#im definitely going to get a blocked nose by tomorrow

[sxnctxxry]

.

[latibvles]

100 paired prompts list -⁴²⁾ a blocked (or unknown) number and traffic lights, for Vivian!

DIDN'T HAVE TO.

more frat boys au because im stuck in this trench. thanks for the prompt, merc!! another general "viv's dad sucks in every way a dad Can Suck" warning.

James whistles from his spot up front, peering out the window onto the street as Viv approaches, shrugging on her jacket and looking at him curiously.

“News says it’s below freezing tonight. You walkin’ home, Vivvy?” he asks, looking at her curiously. She knows it's both a question and a well-meaning proposition — which is enough to make her smile a little bit, but shake her head.

“My ride’s waiting for me. I appreciate it though,” she hums. “Oh! And I won’t be coming in tomorrow. Sorority stuff,” the host nods, looking half-mournful as he leans on the wood podium. Viv chuckles a little, rolling her eyes in slight amusement as he straightens out, looking past her once more towards the downtown street, lit up by window signs and orangey street lamps.

“Right, see you…”

“Monday.”

“Monday, right.” Vivian zips up her jacket, heading out the door and looking down at her phone. Bucky’s text is simple: ‘on the corner’ following up their previous conversation: which was Viv going ‘I don’t mind walking’ and Bucky reacting with a thumbs down emoji. She recognizes his car further down the street and speed-walks towards it, already eager to get away from the chill of late autumn. She chuckles when she approaches, peering into the window. Bucky is leaning back in his seat, eyes shut, arms crossed over his chest.

She raps her knuckles on the glass and he shoots up, looking around before his gaze settles on her, effectively startled, and Viv laughs.

In spite of his initial fright, he smiles when he sees her and she hears the faint click of the doors unlocking. She opens the door pretty quickly after that, tossing her bag into the backseat.

“Knight in shining armor,” she teases, as opposed to a proper greeting, before following it up with: “Sorry if I smell like a deep fryer.” He waves it off dismissively.

“No problem. I love french fries.” Viv swats him in the center of his chest for that, which makes him laugh with an additional mutter of seat belt as she settles into her spot. The engine of his car revs to life, phone connecting to the speakers and Bucky’s all-over-the-place playlist hopping to the next track. He pulls off the curb as Viv pulls her hair out of its low barely-there pony and sighs in relief, scratching at her head.

“You were right by the way.” He glances at her momentarily and she’s looking at him dead-on. “Saw that woman in my calculus class with your economics professor — I avoided their table like the plague.” Bucky makes a noise, something between a squawk and a gasp that has Viv throwing her head back in a fit of laughter. “The fuck was that?!”

“Sorry— sorry I just— that was supposed to be a joke,” Bucky laughs a little, breathless and shoulders shaking. “Holy shit, what’d they order?” She can’t help but grin, knowing he’s going to hate the answer.

“Big plate of spaghetti. Think they were trying to do Lady and the Tramp.”

“Gross.” Viv can’t help her second bout of laughter at the scrunch to Bucky’s nose, displeasure evident on his face. Fair enough; his economics professor is about a half a century older than both of them — but her classmates also had a solid ten years on either of them, so more power to her.

“You think they got together before or after realizing she’s a student at his place of work?” She asks, just to watch him scrunch his nose again.

“Whichever makes it more likely that his desk’s clean because I’ve definitely touched it with my bare hands.”

Viv snorts again, rolling her eyes with a parroted gross that has him grinning from ear to ear, wide and bright as it usually is. She lets her gaze shift outside the window to the darkened downtown streets — some windows slightly frosted, twinkling lights starting to go up. They hadn’t even passed Thanksgiving yet.

“Thanks again, for the ride. You didn’t have—”

“Vivian, if that sentence is anything but ‘you didn’t have money on tonight’s game, did you?’ I’m going to ignore it,” Bucky cuts her off without missing a beat, and for a moment Viv just balks at him. He seems satisfied with himself, though, and she huffs.

“Well did you?”

“Fuck no. Rosie’s already killing me in the goddamn fantasy league. Can you believe that? I’m losing to a damn pledge, Viv.” He’s dramatic about it, bemoaning his fantasy football losses in a way that almost makes her forget that he really didn’t have to come pick her up from work. She was more than willing to tough out the hour-long walk back to the sorority house while her car got fixed, but evidently he had other plans. Ones that involve waiting on the curb for her to clock out after closing and enthrall her with the woes he has about his fantasy league. He swears under his breath as he catches the red light. The one at this intersection always feels like it lasts forever. The vermilion glow casts shadows on his face that Viv can’t really help but stare at. She likes how it makes his curls look impossibly blacker, like ink.

“Are you h—,” her question is cut off by her phone ringing and she looks down.

Viv can’t help the souring of her expression at the unsaved number, but lately he’s been calling so much that she knows who it is automatically. She’s more than grateful that her friends haven’t cast stones over her inability to block his number. She’d be going back for Thanksgiving break and a lot could happen in a week. While she’s willing to fight her father on a lot of things; it isn’t smart to forfeit him from paying her phone bill while she’s in school.

This is the fourth time he’s called her tonight. She couldn’t answer the other three because she was working. And there’s a permanence in blocking him out  entirely that has Viv a little terrified. Nail in the coffin, something like that — she’s put the hammer down for now and she isn’t sure if she’s quite ready to pick it back up again.

“Viv?” Bucky looks over at her fully, brows furrowing in concern, pulling her out of her thoughts. Her thumb hovers over the pick-up button.

“S’just my dad,” she manages. “This should be qui—”

She hardly registers Bucky reaching for her phone, plucking it from her as she opens her mouth in protest. He holds up his finger though as he picks up and presses it to his ear. Viv swallows hard, hands curling into fists. She can’t really hear what her dad is saying, but she can hear the muffled sound of his voice as he yells into the phone.

When I call you, answer. I’ll cut you off. I’ll make you transfer. If you wanna act like a grown little girl so bad—

Bucky’s face contorts into something like disgust. She can tell in that moment he just might spout off at the mouth. Viv reaches over to grasp at his wrist, shooting him a pleading look.

She hasn’t been scared of her father since she was fourteen. She still isn’t, but she doesn’t want Bucky to step in it with him. It’d be like arguing with a brick wall.

Bucky nods once, still saying nothing. Letting her father spout off at the mouth and taking it all without a word. Eventually the muffled shouting stops.

“Yeah, sure thing Mr. Savorre. I just didn’t want to talk on the phone and drive, y’know? Not exactly safe driving habits. They teach that one in high school. You have a good night now,” Bucky drawls, Viv’s eyes feel like they might pop out of her head as he hangs up and the light turns green. He passes her phone back to her and she can hardly believe what’s just happened.

She can’t help the noise — somewhere between a laugh and a scoff of disbelief.

“You…”

He smiles, softer than before, goes to pat her knee twice then squeeze it.

“So what’re your plans for Thanksgiving break?”

[whoretan]

You | Two

masterlist.exe

Summary: What should've been an easy pick-up ends up being one of the worst nights of your life.

Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader

Genre: SMUT, Psychological, Angst, Eventual Romance (Unhealthy and Obsessive)

Tags and Notes: yeah jungkook is fucking crazy, and sexy UUGH just you wait, lots of confusion, who is who what is going on, reader is going through it im sorry, reply to be added to taglist

WC: 3.2k

chap1_jk970.txt | chap2_trojan.exe | chap3_r3d.mp4

The hand you’ve pressed over your mouth pushes you backward until your spine collides with the closet’s wall. Quickly, you move your shoulders to the side, angling your body out of Jeongguk’s field of view, and hope that your dark clothing is enough to mask your presence inside the tight space.

With your free hand, you dig into the bottom pocket of your cargos. Your fingers claw at the cotton opening in search of metal. They wrap around the cold drive and you silently thank yourself.

“Soo, wait,” Jeongguk says, and with a wet plop, he removes his girlfriend’s mouth from his dick. 

You could’ve very well been seeing things, you’re paranoia must’ve taken over when the panic settled in because there’s absolutely no chance that Jeongguk spotted you from a one-inch gap in his closet door. No way in hell.

Your vision blurs and your head shakes against the hand you still have planted against your mouth. No way, no way, no way. You endlessly repeat the phrase in your head as your fingers gouge themselves around the metal of the USB drive until you’re sure you’ve drawn blood. 

You can’t lose the text file. You can’t. 

If Jeongguk catches you in his closet he’s going to ask questions. He’ll get suspicious, check your pockets and find the USB, and once he gets the file, you’re done for sure. 

Soojin’s mumbling something to Jungkook but all you could pick up on is the sound of pants being pulled up and the heavy slow steps of boots approaching the door. 

The closet door. 

Your feet are glued to the bottom of the floor, and your ribs are being jabbed by sneakers, boots whatever else Jeongguk hides in here. Snot builds up below your nose and runs into your mouth, leaving a wet and salty taste on your lips. 

You’ll go to jail for this. 

Your life will be over.

There’s a tsk outside the door and the handle to push the door open shakes, “How the fuck is it stuck?” Jeongguk growls from the other side, giving the door several tugs in the opposite direction.

It takes a few seconds for your brain to register the pain building up in the side of your foot. The same foot that happens to be blocking Jeongguk from sliding the door open and exposing you in it.

He shoves the door once more and you wince into your hand, that’ll definitely leave a bruise tomorrow. 

“Yo Jeon! Open the damn door!” A voice erupts from the hallway, followed by several loud pounds on the door. 

Jeongguk curses and the pressure on your foot subsides. The footsteps move away from the closet and somewhere to the opposite side of the room. Your eyes sting and you clamp them shut, letting the tears that accumulated on the brim race their way down onto the floor.

“What the fuck you want Taehyung?” 

Taehyung?

Jeongguk knows Taehyung?

The same Taehyung that you spent an hour talking and sneaking into the frat with? 

The same Taehyung that you told your plan of hacking the person he’s currently talking to?

“Quit your whinin’. Jimin’s beating the shit out of some guy downstairs.” 

Yeah, that’s definitely your Taehyung. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Soojin, do not move.”

Jeongguk’s running starts with heavy thuds exiting his bedroom until the sound completely dissipates into what you presume to be downstairs. Your phone pings in your pocket, confirming the change in elevation. 

You shakily breathe in, trying to regain the smidge of dignity you have left. Letting the USB go, you take your hand out of the pocket and rub the blood onto your pants. 

Slowly, you lift yourself off your side and the pain in your ribs eases. You remove your hand from your mouth, trying to ignore the mixture of snot, tears, and sweat that’s glued to the surface. You lift your arm up, feeling for any cotton or any soft fabric, and when your hand lands on a piece of Jungkook’s clothing you tug the cloth downward and wipe your hand and nose on it. Fuck you, Jeongguk.

“Sweetheart, Imma’ need you to get the fuck outta here,” Taehyung says.

What?

Soojin scuffs, “I’m sorry?”

You pause, dropping the shirt onto the empty space next to you, and move back toward the gap. In the one-inch opening, you see Taehyung bend the upper half of his torso to Soojin’s level until his face is eerily close to hers. 

He tilts his head, “I said, get the fuck out. Or I’ll let your lil’ boyfriend know about Senator Trent.” 

Senator Trent? What the hell would Soojin have to do with the fucking Senator?

“I—“

Taehyung lifts his hand, grabs Soojin’s chin, and presses her cheeks together causing her lips to form a pouting shape. She shakes against his hold but Taehyung doesn’t falter, instead, he continues, “I don’t give a shit about what you wanna say. Now splat.” 

He shakes Soojin’s chin one last time, and when he lets go, the girl runs out of the room. 

Taehyung straightens and turns toward the closet. 

You gulp, pushing yourself further into the wall. 

“I know you’re in there. Now c’mon, we needa’ get outta here before he gets back,” Taehyung approaches the door and this time you let the panel slide open.

When your eyes meet his, his eyebrows furrow, and he sticks his hand out to you, “You good?” 

You shake your head, grab his hand and let him help you back onto your feet. When you rise, your feet wobble, and Taehyung places his arm around you to steady you. 

“He knew I was in here,” you stare at the now empty bed. The remnants of Jeongguk’s presence send shivers up your spine. 

Jeongguk most definitely knew you were in the closet. He was fucking staring directly at you. 

“Maybe,” Taehyung says and gives your shoulder a little squeeze, “but, he didn’t catch you did he?”

“No.”

“See. Now c’mon, let’s call you an Uber.” 

You shove the USB into your desktop and quickly type in your password and watch as the PC unlocks itself, revealing the Windows XP wallpaper you installed months ago.

About half an hour ago, Taehyung took you down the emergency ladder, called you an Uber— on him— and told you to get home safely. 

Didn’t give you his last name, or his number. Hell, he didn’t even let you know if you’d ever see him again.

On the bottom right, a disk icon appears with ‘JJK970 PASS’ attached as the title. You usher your swivel chair closer to the desk and double-click the icon, waiting for the file to open.

Your screen flashes black three times and you rush to press control and escape on your keyboard. Before you get the chance to force quit the file, your terminal opens and about sixteen scripts begin to run. Your eyes scan the Linux code, hoping to pick up on anything you might understand.

The words move at the speed of light, but your eyes flicker onto the red ‘Trojan.exe’ and at that moment you know you’re fucked. 

Jeongguk encrypted a Trojan virus into the text file, and when you ran it on a different computer the script ticked off, like a horse hearing the gunshot at a rally. 

Fuck. You’re going to have to blow the hardware. Right along with the drive that you so desperately worked for tonight. How did he figure you’d go to the frat?

Just as you’re about to bend underneath the desk and pull the cord connecting your desktop to the electricity, a website opens, and the sound of confetti being popped fills the room. 

Congratulations ___,

It’s Jeongguk. Obviously. And before you ask, yes, I know it’s you. I mean, who else would you be stupid enough to hack me? Anyways, sweetheart, in about three minutes, your computer will start running the Trojan horse virus I’ve installed on your computer weeks ago. If you want to know, I have access to everything, so, I’d suggest you do a better job of encrypting your files next time you hack a house full of people. 

I’ll give you two options. 

One.

The Trojan will release a set of sixteen different emails coming directly from your student and personal emails to all of campus and the FBI. The emails include all of your computer logs, and who you’ve hacked. I’ve gone ahead and added my files on there too, so don’t worry. I suspect you know what that means, right? Good. I won’t explain it further.

Two.

Blow up the drive. Take all of your hardware and blow it up too. The virus will run for 25 minutes, plenty of time for you to blow up the hardware and meet one of my drivers who’s already waiting for you outside. You’ll meet me at the location I've told to my driver and we’ll discuss what’s going to happen. If you decide to be stupid and call the police, well, you already know what’ll happen.

Besides, you’re a smart girl, I’m sure you’ll make the right decision. 

Love,

JK 

You reread the message once, then again, and again, and again until your hands are shaking so hard against the cord that you accidentally pull it out of the socket. 

You yelp when the screen flashes black and the message Jeongguk left for you disappears. What are you going to do? You can’t go to the police, you’d be ratting yourself out. Can’t call Jennie, your roommate, her mouth is larger than the pit you’ve dug yourself into. It’d be the equivalent of calling the cops. And that’s as far as your social circle goes, so, you’re fucked.

A vibration rattles your thigh, and you tug your phone out of the pocket. On the screen, an iSH shell is running, similar to the one you had on Jeongguk earlier. You recognize the coordinates as they’re you’re very own. 

Jeongguk’s tracking your phone, making sure you go downstairs and meet his driver. You’re starting to think that in reality, he has given you only one option.

You turn back to the PC and pull the drive out of it. Shoving the chair to the side, you bend on all fours and press the button you installed on your desktop to open the sliding glass door. Repeating a process you’ve done at least a dozen times, you remove the RAM, close the sliding door and lift yourself off the floor.

After what is basically bolting out of your room, you place the drive and RAM into the microwave, set the timer to thirty, and walk away. 

Jennie who has the critical thinking skills of a toddler will assume you’re just being “extra paranoid” for no reason as usual and will toss the hardware into the bin as she’s done every time you’ve left its reminants in the microwave. 

The wall of windows in your apartment glistens from the rain, and the lights from the surrounding buildings fills the void of the night sky. You don’t remember the forecast mentioning rain. 

The RAM sends splatters of irons into all directions in the microwave, and the sound of what could very well be popcorn popping rustles the kitchen. You pay it no mind, ignoring the various gleaming sparks that fill the dark space of the apartment. You shove your pinging phone into your pocket and close the front door on your way out. 

It takes you less than three minutes to sprint down the three flights of stairs, nearly tripping over your feet a couple of times. You don’t care though, your heart thumps in your chest, ears, and brain, sizzling your body with so much adrenaline you should’ve gone into cardiac arrest about ten minutes ago. 

Outside, the same black Cadillac you noticed when the Uber dropped you off, waits. When you shove the glass door open and tug your hood over your head, the tinted window rolls down and you slip on the concrete, barely having enough time to use your hands to stop yourself from planting yourself face first onto the pavement.

“That surprised?” Jeongguk purrs from the backseat. 

The driver, a tall, stocky, bald man exits the car and opens the rear door that faces the street. You avoid the gaze that is digging into the depths of your soul and try your best to compose yourself, wiping away the grains of concrete that have etched themselves into your palm on your hoodie. 

The rain plummets onto your hood, hitting you with such velocity it feels like tiny knives scraping the surface of your clothes.

You mutter a ‘thanks’ to the driver, who nods in acknowledgment and sit in the empty seat beside Jeongguk. When the door closes, Jeongguk says, “Cat got your tongue?”

This is going to be one hell of a night. 

You huff and swing your head back onto the headrest. “Weren’t you supposed to be at the location?” You say, using your fingers to make air quotation marks when you say location.

Jeongguk laughs. And your stomach turns, his laugh is dry and calculated like he’s playing a game of cat and mouse and he wants you to believe he’s the mouse.

“I wanted to see if you’d come.” 

You don’t reply. Simply, because you have nothing to say. 

You’re confused above everything else. Thirty minutes ago you were sure you’d caught whatever the hell Jeongguk was trying to hide. The next, you’re stuck in a car with him without any other option but to abide by all of his commands. 

“I didn’t really have a choice,” you mutter.

Jeongguk sighs, and from the corner of your eye, you see him typing something into the Linux shell he’s running from his phone. About a second later, he turns his phone off, and your phone vibrates in return. 

When you pull the device out, a single notification reads, “Sorry, you’ve lost! Better luck next time! :P”   He couldn’t just kill the program without trying to piss you off? Your eye twitches and you feel an urge to chuck the device right at Jeongguk’s fucking face. 

Jeongguk must’ve noticed your soiled reaction because then, he does laugh. 

He laughs at the fact that you thought you were smarter than he is. That you thought you won against him. That he most likely did know you were in the closet earlier and still proceeded to almost fuck his girlfriend in front of you out of spite. 

Before you can't process the consequences, and convince yourself you’re better off being the bigger person. You’re throwing your phone so fast that Jeongguk completely stops laughing and has to duck to avoid being hit with the device. 

The driver brakes and you're shoved forward, your face collies with the back of the front seat. 

“Sir, are you okay?” 

“Keep fucking driving,” Jeongguk grits, quickly moving from his seat. 

He grabs you by the collar, pushing you against the backseat with so much force you’ll probably have a mild concussion tomorrow.

Jeongguk splits your legs open, digging his knee into the empty space, and leans in. You wince from the contact. He’s entirely too close. You can smell the lemon mint that spews out of his mouth, the smokey auburn scent of his cologne, and the way his leg is quite literally digging right into your pussy. 

When your eyes gaze downwards, he gives your collar a shake causing your eyes to look back into his. His eyes are black, fiery, and demanding. Like he’s ready to suck your soul out of your body with each word. He looks like he wants you to mold into whatever he demands.

“Listen here sweetheart, I don’t think you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into. I have my limits but you’ve been fucking pushing me ever since you tried to get information on Jimin. If you ever pull some shit like that what you did right now I’ll get rid of you faster than you can kill a command.” 

You shakily inhale and try to get him off of you, when his body doesn’t budge you try to push your ass further into the seat and away from his knees. Jeongguk chuckles, digging his knee further into the region. 

Your pulse quickens and you look everywhere except at him. Trying to ignore his completely engulfing presence. He’s everywhere in the space, in the air, in your mind. He’s consuming you and he hasn’t even touched you.

Jeongguk leans in, letting go of your collar and using the same hand to push your chest into the chair, “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin, doll.”

The scent of auburn collides with your senses, dizzying you completely. You try to gasp for air, grab the handle above you, you reach for anything to help you regain your composure. But, you can’t. You can’t because now, Jeongguk’s at the shell of your ear, hot breath tickling the surface of your lobe. 

“You like this don’t you?” He whispers, his voice dropping an octave.

You bite your lip, and Jeongguk chuckles, dropping his head an inch to press a tender lick to the area below your ear. The ends of his black hair tickle your cheek and your heart thumps so hard against the cage of your chest that it nearly jumps out. 

This is definitely the most embarrassing moment of your life. He threatened your life a minute ago and now you’re moaning under him like a whore.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

You try and push yourself further into the chair but you’ve reached the leather’s limit, a hard plastic underneath the chair bites at your back. It pushes you forward, and closer to Jeongguk and you bite back the moan that manifests itself in your throat when Jeongguk begins to suck on your neck. 

He gives the skin a wet kiss, proceeding to open his mouth and suck hard. He sucks until his tongue rolls over the surface and the moan you bit back escapes. 

The fucker must be enjoying this because he smiles against your skin, continuing to attack the region. 

“Please,” You moan, trying to use any of the energy you have left to lift your arms up and onto Jeongguk’s shoulders to push him away. 

You shouldn’t be doing this, not with him.

There’s a vibration against the pit of your stomach and you suppress another moan. What the fuck are you doing?

“Fuck,” Jeongguk groans, removing himself from you. He uses one hand to hoist himself over you, while the other digs into his sweats and pulls out his phone.

You watch as his face illuminates and he flips the phone toward you. A shit-eating grin enveloping his features, “Would you look at that, your little friend Taehyung is calling.” 

Taehyung?

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

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

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[tf2redshot]

How would the mercs react to 'you are the father'? Which one would cry while holding their baby for the first time? WHERE ARE THEY!...oh, sorry. Wrong fandom on that last one...

mercenaries | holding their kid for the first time

Scout

"Me? A pa?"

He's frightened. He's excited, but he's frightened. He grew up with only a mother, how the fuck does he become a father? He silently curses whoever his father is for putting him in this kind of situation, but also thanks him for giving him the opportunity to not fuck up like he did. Scout springs back up again, a determined grin on his face as he holds his kid. This was his kid. A mini him. Scout as much as possible tries to block out any insecurity and tries to see the good side of things. Though every now and then, he'll need constant reassuring.

"Imma spoil him rotten. Ya think he'll like chicken for breakfast?"  (son is literally a few minutes old without any teeth)

Soldier

He has such a gentle look on his face it'd be hard to tell if this man was Soldier or not without his helmet. For once, he fathers up and takes the news like a champ. He isn't scared, this is his kid. His little.. part of him. The information is still processing in his head, but you can tell he's struggling to get the right words out. He tries to give a decent reaction. This isn't the war, this isn't the battle back in Teufort, this is his fucking child. He already has a whole future planned out in his head for what he wants to do with his kid. He's ecstatic, and he's looking forward to all of this. 

"You and me, son. I'll make you proud."

Pyro

It's a MINI PYRO! It's obvious they're struggling to keep their giddiness in, with shaky hands they cradle their kid, eyes sparkling with joy. They take a moment to admire all this. Their own kid, alive and healthy, pure and innocent. Pyro treated them like they were the most fragile thing on earth and momma hen instinct took over.

"Um, excuse me, we still need to run some tests." The doctor stood by the door, watching the firebug cradle their kid in the far corner of the room. Pyro just shook their head.

Demoman

Demo's in silent shock, a look of pure adoration in his face. This was his kid. *His* kid. There's a gentle smile on his face as he pokes the kid's cheek. Okay, this wasn't a dream. He's doting on his kid so much it's unbelievable. He nudges their cheek with the curve of his finger, tickling their nose, anything. He still can't believe this is happening. He doesn't have the heart to let go of the kid when the doctors come in to check on them.

"Just check 'im while I'm holding 'im. Och, is that so much of a problem?"

Heavy

He's mommy. Let him be. He's overjoyed to be holding his kid, he needs to be scolded sometimes to keep it down. It's surprising to see Heavy like this; the usually stoic man doting over his kid like there was no tomorrow. Can't stop with the nicknames, might have forgotten their real name because of it who knows

"медвежонок.. you are so small. You fit like egg in hand."

"Heavy, da fuck did you just say?"

Engineer 

Engineer is speechless. What? Him? A father? Holy shit. He thought that maybe his experiences with being a total father figure to the team would help him out, but boy was he wrong. The moment he held his baby, he realized that taking care of a baby would be very very very different from taking care of eight grown men. He can't hit them with a wrench or send them into respawn. This was a FUCKING BABY. He's nervous when he holds his kid, but once his kid let out their first giggle or laugh, Engineer was laughing along for whatever reason, hell bent on making them laugh again. That was a very cute noise. Do it again.

"Hell.. I can't believe this. You're.. adorable. Got that from your father, didn'tcha? Heh. Just kidding. Or am I?"

He's a freakin dork

Sniper

W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-what? He was mentally preparing for this moment the past nine months, and all his training went crashing down the moment he held his kid. He was shaken up, this was his kid. Was this even okay? Was being an assassin and a father a good idea? Definitely not, but the way his kid grabbed his pinkie stole his heart, and he was determined to keep his little roo safe. This man is fucking territorial, not even his partner could hold the kid for the first few hours. 

"Mundy, c'mon, give-"

"Piss off." He says, a dangerous edge to his voice as he pats his kid's back, trying to get them to burp. He would have been taken seriously if not for the adorable scene he was making.

Medic

The reality of him being a father doesn't hit him until later, when he's back in his own sleeping quarters. In the hospital, he's professional, checking on the kid to see if they're healthy. He gives the check-up, even does the delivery, if adopted, he did all the paperwork. He did everything he needed to do as a doctor. But as a father? It dawned on him in the middle of the night, when he heard his baby cry. Like an automated response, he got up, carried the baby until they calmed down. Then it hit him. When did he ever learn to do this? From nurturing baby baboons probably? It came to him so naturally it was surprising, pleasantly surprising.

"Mein gott.. this is veird. Babies are so fragile.."

Spy

Sadly, he misses his baby's delivery. He spent the entire night and morning on the roof, finishing his pack of cigars. He was stressed. Very. He had his car keys in one hand, contemplating whether or not he should just drive off and forget this ever happened. But he didn't. After a couple of years with Scout back in the base, he's learned his mistake, and he still regrets it to this day. He's been wishing for a chance to redeem himself, now he has it. He returns to the hospital room, apologizing for his delay. When he sees the baby, he's stricken with fear. What does he do? Without being given another second to decide, he's given the baby, and he's never felt genuine fear before, but staring at the baby really got him thinking hard. The baby's eyes, they were exactly like his. The baby's hair even even looked like his. All of this was so shocking to Spy. He couldn't help but stare at the baby- his baby- the whole time. The scene itself was adorable. Spy holding and staring at a baby with eyes full of adoration for 9823487 hours.

"This.. this is mine?"

"Yes, Spy, and can you not talk about the baby like he's a thing?"

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hey!!! I'm so glad you liked the blurb night idea :) 💞 Can I request a blurb with Peter bumping into the reader while she's kinda lost at times square and he's dressed as spiderman so he tries to flirt with you, but it makes you laugh instead?

I loved the idea hun, thankyou sm for helping me with this idea xxx

“You’re a guy?”

Pairing | Peter Parker x reader

Summary | based on the request

Warnings | mentions of crime, brief mention of death and drugs, mention of sex

2K blurb masterlist

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

“And there was this girl. She was really pretty, but-“ May quirked her head at her nephew, hardly understanding his blabber as he sped through his words like he was racing verbally against a cheetah, though, she was manage to uncover that particular sentence.

“Whoa, slow down kiddo.” His aunt laughed lightly, bracing her shoulders on his arms as he caught his overexcited breath. “How about you start from the beginning, and take a breath?” May had much practice with calming the boy down, she sincerely remembered how that night his parents had dropped him off, how worried he had been for them not to return. And they didn’t.

Peter bobbed his head in a eager nod, doing as he was recommended by his legal guardian, puffing the air in through his cheeks, as he inhaled and exhaled normally through his nose.“I was out patrolling the city, checking out for any bad guys, and then, I saw her...” her, the girl that had captured his attention, and distracted him from his friendly neighbourhood duties. She was much like a magnet, pulling his north face into her axis spinning world, distracting him from the things that he was actually meant to be ensuring did not happen on his watch.

“Weren’t you supposed to be patrolling?” The elder of the two quirked a brow, earning a splutter of a response from the teenager under her roof. She wasn’t a strict guardian concerning his heroic antics, though, she made sure to keep him on track for his own sake. Peter had quite the tendency to become overrun with stress from the amounts of responsibilities that he took on, and him being only young did not help the situation.

“I’m getting to that!” He was fast to defend himself, huffing his chest in as he prepared to tell May his story, from the beginning. It was quite the tale, he’d say, combined with the embarrassment of his own presence entangled in the random and friendly interaction that he had felt promiscuously lulled to create.

Queens, it was new to you. There were so many streets, filled to the brim with people that seemed to know where they were going. Unlike them, you didn’t, in fact, you’d go as far to admit that you were lost. Lost in a place that was known for the chaos that wrapped it off with a tarnished bow, and made the collateral practically fashion within its various newspapers that rounded every corner to divulge their companies’ obscure theories.

A panicked look struck your eyes, as you turned, shaking your head and pressing through the mass of citizens and finding an empty lot, scrolling through your phone, diverting your attention quickly towards google maps. It was the only thing that you could think of, it’d be a shame if you were to disturb one of the many passersby from their clearly packed schedule; you did not need that, nor berating them on your conscience.

“You lost or something?” A voice asked, making your shoulders jump as a figure, twisted in the colours red and blue, with a seam of black fell from the roofs above. Your heart rate imploded, more so when you realised who the mask wearing vigilante was. The wearer, although unknown, was infamous for the successions of saving lives that they had participated in, including defending the galaxy against outside threats.

It was Spiderman, the neighbourhood dubbed avenger, that tried their utmost to return stolen or lost bikes to their rightful owners, and protected banks from armed and overnight robberies. There was known to be something different about this particular hero, they were young and clearly had time to improve their skill set, for they were quite the clutz, and spoke significantly more to those he faced off against than what was necessary.

But this one hero, stood out amongst the rest. Not only was their suit designed by Stark technology, as you had written about in a work article, but it was far more concealing, and not to mention restricting, for the person beneath the red concoction to wear. Yes, you were in town for a new job, specifically to delve into the details that regards the world of heroes, and exploit all possible angles to how they deserved as much recognition for their stunts, as the president received for his noble speeches.

“I-“ you paused, think back over what you were preparing to say. It was without a doubt, that you had not expected the vigilante to appear in your spectacle gaze the first time that you stepped foot on the premises that he roamed, and protected. But here the spider enthusiast was, leaping down to stand beside you, burdening you with more knowledge that you could use, such as the person beneath was not as tall as you had expected, and there was definitely no way you could see their true eyes through the shallow white cases that covered them.

That was something you could write about, and make various descriptive theories about. ‘Seeing in white vision, sparked by the purity that glazed their unknown signature irises, Spider-Man halts all with the sparing of their true self. They may have reasons for shielding their eyes, much like Daredevil, not needing to see when they are overcome with various other senses that convulse their body into attentiveness,” -no, that sounded absolutely terrible.

And not to mention, if you spread that horrid writing about, Murdoc would be ashamed of ever deciding to get your aid in uncovering the route of the villainous underworld, that had take over Hell’s Kitchen and turned it into their own ring for drugs and more. The battle of New York had many repercussions, that being one, another influencing you into the career choice of being said reporter that you now proclaimed yourself as.

“Yeah, I am.” You responded with the company of a smile, and Peter swore he could feel his heart convulse beneath his suit. It’s pace was vaguely rapid, disheartening him from thinking of any more to say, he was practically speechless. “I’m looking for New York Times, you ever heard of it?” Yes, he most definitely had, it was the average run of the mill newspaper company, though, he did not know that you intended to change that into something much more.

“Funnily enough I have.” He scratched the back of his head, his arm subconsciously flexing as he did so, feeling like he had failed as your eyes remained focused on the wideness of his suit’s intense eyes. “It’s about three blocks from here, I could take you there if you want, I have nothing more to do.” From his proclamation you quirked a brow, crossing your arms amusedly.

“Don’t you have a city to watch over?” You asked, watching as Spider-Man’s false eyes widened, and he visibly panicked, realising that you had been right. “I’ll find my way, I’ve been to New York, many a time, Queens is bound to be a piece of cake. Also, a map is always handy.” A shrug rippled off your shoulders, Peter watching and walking closer as he thought of something more to add to the initial acquainting conversation.

“I’m Spider-Man.” Inwardly, and beneath his mask, Peter cringed noting how his voice rose, and it could be perceived as boasting. That though was definitely not his intent in the slightest, but he worried of how it may have come across to you. He wasn’t sure how you may have read it as, but a swarm of relief filled his lungs as he watched the corner of your eyes crinkle up, humoured by the tone of his that had significantly heightened. “Im a guy by the way.”

He felt the need to state that, especially considering people’s perceptions in the past. But instantly after saying it, he was regretful, through, he had to admit, he enjoyed listening to you laugh, it was like a melody that he wanted to listen to until the end of time. “You’re a guy?” You released a dramatic gasp, aiding your phoney response. “Yeah, no. I completely thought that you were a girl.” Sarcasm, he had well gotten used to frequency of it thanks to Mr Stark, who... well, he wasn’t around any more.

“You’re funny.” He smiled, shaking his head whence he realised that you could not see his hidden expression. “I don’t know, maybe, would you like to go to coffee with me, if you have time before you have to get to the news place? I mean, I don’t drink that much coffee, I get told that if I have too much caffeine that I get a little hyper, but I mean, I’m trying to ask you out and I have a really bad track record of-“

“Sure.” You spoke, ignoring the map that had finally loaded onto the screen of your phone. It was to your luck that you weren’t required to make your presence known at the business until tomorrow, and there was always time to kill, so you thought screw it, and decided to find it so that you didn’t get lost the approaching day. “Are you going to be wearing that, or you know, take it off?” You pointed at him, making peter surprised.

“It’s not that kind of date.” He quickly responded. “I meant just for a drink, not to hook up in the back of an a- oh, you meant the suit, didn’t you.” With a roll of your eyes, you nodded, pursing your lips together, as Peter felt the rain of relief once more. “Oh, that’s good, not that I wouldn’t want to, you’re gorgeous, that just wasn’t my intent and I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“Basically.” You wrinkled your nose, with a laugh, the way you scrunched it up was adorable to Peter. “So I’ll meet you here in two hours, I’ll let you finish up your duties, and change into something that doesn’t make you look you’re wearing a thong, because I can tell you from experience that those things are not comfortable. That good for you Spidey?”

“That works.” He spoke, trying his best to contain his overflowing excitement, biting his lip to do so. “That definitely works.”

“Hi.” The familiar voice of Spider-Man spoke, and you turned around, watching as a young man, not much different in age from yourself rounded the corner. He was clothed in a blue and white chequered flannel, and grey jeans, and you had to say, that whilst the amazing Spider-Man was quite the sight, this was something else.

“Oh, I was waiting for a girl actually.” You informed him, clearly messing with him, as you walked closer, a stretching smile pinning up the corners of your lips. “But I guess you’ll do webslinger.” He could feel his heart racing, but he walked closer, watching as you eyed him, a stranger met with the sight of a vigilante unmasked. “Where to, red and blue?”

“There’s this really good place on main, they sell the best sandwiches. And trust me, once you buy from there, you won’t stop...” the two of you began to walk away together, and towards Peter’s secret destination, where the two of you learnt the others real name.

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter One

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2101

Chapter Warning: Bad Language Words, tiny bit of angst

A/N: I started this on AO3 awhile ago. Now that I have a blog dedicated primarily to just Marvel/Bucky, I thought I’d add it here, too. Enjoy!

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission.  

Bucky heard his phone buzz as he was tugging a butter-soft tee over his head. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand next to his bed as he worked his arms into their respective holes.

9:36

Steve was long in bed already, so the text most likely wasn’t from him. Sam was on a me me kick-- No, what did he call them? Memes!-- of a disgruntled cat which he swore reminded him of the super soldier. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were him. Or possibly Nat. She picked up the new issue of Guns & Ammo the other day and was sending him pictures of a Mossberg MC1sc 9mm she was drooling over.

Smoothing the body of the shirt over his torso, Bucky ambled over to his bed. He snatched up the phone from the navy blue comforter and flipped it over. To his amazement, the text wasn’t from Sam or Nat. Or even Steve.

(917) 460-5480 work thing boring af. kinda tied one on. might be late meeting you tomorrow

He blinked several times at the message, uncertain how to respond. It was a wrong number, right? Bucky hadn’t made plans with anyone for tomorrow that he could remember. Plus, everyone he knew had the same work thing. And it was rarely boring.

Definitely a wrong number.

He set the phone down near the clock, choosing to ignore the text. Hopefully, whoever this person was, figured out quickly they were texting the wrong number and moved on.

Bucky pulled back the covers before climbing into bed. His body melted into the mattress, muscles relaxing for the first time since breakfast. Training had been non-stop all day today. It felt good to just be, for once.

He grabbed the book he was reading off the nightstand and opened it to the spot he left off. He cleared his mind, as best he could, and concentrated on the words on the page.

A few pages in, his phone vibrated alive again. Another text message.

(917) 460-5480 sis dont be mad youd be drinking too if you had to sit thru one of these business dinners

Bucky sighed. He had hoped his radio silence would have clued this person into their mistake. Wishful thinking. Before he could punch out a reply, another text came through.

(917) 460-5480 timmons is droning on about this new client. kill me now

He quickly typed out a reply:

(917) 308-3117 I think you sent this to me by mistake.

Bucky watched the text indicator pulse as this unknown person worked out their response.

(917) 460-5480 haha very funny sis

Bucky huffed at this person’s disbelief, thumbs working on typing out his next message.

(917) 308-3117 I’m not trying to be funny. I can’t be someone’s sister when I’m a man.

He set the phone down on the nightstand again, hoping this person finally took a hint. He opened his book back up to the current page, taking a deep breath.

The room’s silence was broken again by the loud thrumming of his phone skittering across the surface of the black wood veneer.

(917) 460-5480 how does kevin feel about this so close to the wedding???

(917)460-5480 will you still need a wedding dress or will you just get a tux???

(917) 460-5480 am i still your maid of honor???

Bucky chuckled at this girl (no, young woman) asking the essential questions.

(917) 308-3117 Your sister did not get a sex change. Yes, she will still need a wedding dress. Yes, you are still her maid of honor. Like I said before, wrong number.

An almost immediate reply came through.

(917) 460-5480 prove it

Bucky grew slightly irritated at the insinuation. Why couldn’t she take his word for it? He exhaled loudly through his nose.

(917) 308-3117 How?

A few moments passed before the device juddered in the palm of his large hand.

(917) 460-5480 selfie

Bucky blanched at the request. He could feel the color drain from his face, only to immediately heat with a blush. A selfie? That is the last thing he wanted to do.

Although he’d been exonerated for his crimes as The Winter Soldier, he still knew about the dislike people felt about him as a person, in general. They couldn’t get past the brainwashing or other persona. God knows he still struggled with it.

He couldn’t go broadcasting his face through texts to a stranger. What if she was one of those who didn’t understand he had no say in what he did or what happened to him under Hydra’s control?

What if he ignored the solicitation? He could do that. Maybe even turn off his phone.

She did seem the type to be very persistent until she got what she wanted.

True to form, another text rang through.

(917) 460-5480 i will keep texting until i see your manly face

One corner of his lips quirked higher. Yup, persistent.

He navigated to the camera app on his phone and switched it to selfie mode. He stared at the damp locks falling to his shoulders. His beard would require a trim soon, but it wasn’t scraggly. Luckily, he’d had the hindsight to shave his neckbeard in the shower earlier.

Was he considering this? Some girl says jump, and he asks how high?

He combed metal fingers through his hair, blowing out a breath.

(917) 460-5480 im waiting

Bucky growled at the text, running a hand over his face. “Okay, okay. Give me a second,” he said to his phone. He held it up to head height, half an arm’s length away.

Click!

He previewed the picture, assuring himself it didn’t reveal too much. It was, somehow, off-center, containing a bearded chin and half a smirked mouth, one nostril, and a half-lidded eye.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bucky pulled the messaging app back up and then sent off the picture. He tossed the phone aside, not wanting to watch the taunting blinking dots as he waited for a reply.

The picture was barely recognizable, but someone like Steve or Nat could tell it was him. It would be okay. No one would know.

His phone vibrated violently near him on the bed. Bucky cautiously plucked the device up, debating whether he wanted to read her reply. What if it said, “Holy shit! You’re The Winter Soldier!”? The hope of this woman thinking he was just some regular guy knotted up his stomach. He didn’t know why he cared so much about whether this stranger thought he was The Soldier or not. He had no control over who believed the lies perpetrated as truth through the media. He could only wish for the best.

He blew out the breath he was holding in and eyed the phone’s screen.

(917) 460-5480 is it fair to say men shouldnt be allowed to have long eyelashes??

Bucky laughed and immediately thought of poor Steve.

(917) 308-3117 You should see my buddy’s. The girls swoon and complain at the same time.

He quickly added to the message thread:

(917) 308-3117 Am I correct to assume you believe I’m a man and not your sister?

The response was swift.

(917) 460-5480 oh shit ur not my sister

(917) 460-5480 this isnt 9173083447?

Bucky laughed again, the tension in his chest slowly unfurling.

(917) 308-3117 Unfortunately for you-- no.

(917) 460-5480 ugh im such an idiot sorry for the shit i said

(917) 308-3117 Don’t worry about it. I had a good laugh at your expense.

(917) 460-5480 oh god now i feel like a bigger ass

Bucky suddenly felt like backpedaling. He hadn’t meant for her to feel bad about her mistake. It was cute in a roundabout way.

(917) 308-3117 Please don’t be embarrassed. It was the highlight of my night.

(917) 460-5480 me forcing u to prove ur a man was the best part of ur night??

Bucky thought for a moment. Was it the best part? The training sessions had become monotonous lately, even with the new agents. The team hadn’t been on any missions in a few weeks, so it was pretty accurate to say he was bored around the compound.

(917) 308-3117 I suppose it was. Work’s been a little slow, and there’s only so much training you can do before it becomes tedious.

(917) 460-5480 training? r u in the military? ooh, r u an athlete??

A laugh bubbled up from his chest. It was comical to see her try to guess his profession. His selfie hadn’t announced who he was to her after all.

(917) 308-3117 Something like that.

(917) 460-5480 so mysterious! r u some assassin who needs to keep his identity secret? is that y ur selfie only showed a quarter of ur face??

He paled at the implication. Maybe she did know and was yanking his chain. How did he block numbers again?

Another text came through from the mystery woman:

(917) 460-5480 not that i mind u have a luscious mouth

Bucky guffawed at the comment as flames rose beneath the skin of his cheeks. He hadn’t remembered blushing this much in such a short amount of time in decades.

(917) 308-3117 How much have you had to drink tonight, doll?

(917) 460-5480 doll?? what r u my grandpa??

He chuckled again. God, he was old enough and then some.

(917) 460-5480 enough to not want to shoot my brains out but not enough to know this dinner isnt a party

(917) 308-3117 Maybe you should get back to your dinner? I don’t want to get you into trouble.

He regretted the text the second he pressed send. Was he trying to get rid of her? No. Or was he looking out for her? This person he knew nothing about. She was more entertaining than the recurring nightmare he’d been having for the last week, that's for sure. He'd cling to this unknown to avoid slipping into that black abyss.

(917) 460-5480 aww does the military-trained assassin athlete mchottie not want to talk with me anymore?? 🙁

(917) 308-3117 No!! I’m honestly concerned you’ll be reprimanded if you pay more attention to your phone than Timmons.

The last thing Bucky needed was to feel more guilt, especially if it was at the expense of someone’s livelihood. His shoulders were already heavy enough.

(917) 460-5480 thats sweet but dont worry ur pretty little head over me timmons wouldnt last a day w/o me

(917) 460-5480 timmons may be the boss but i run that office

He simpered at her swagger. He could only imagine what kind of office she worked in because, again, a total stranger. Did he want to get to know her more, or was this a one and done thing? Would she wake up tomorrow and want to continue the conversation or blow him off for the drunken mistake her first text had been?

Bucky stared at his phone for several more minutes, pondering precisely what he was doing and what his expectations of the night were. It’s not like he was going to meet her in person, right? Was he that delusional? He was an Avenger now. He didn’t get a social life. Not that he had one before but still.

He was startled from his reverie as the phone shook in his hand.

(917) 460-5480 did i scare you away??

(917) 308-3117 No. Just thinking about tomorrow.

(917) 460-5480 shit a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie must have a lot to prepare for mentally ill let u get ur rest

He smiled at the gesture. If only she knew.

(917) 308-3117 Send me a text when you get home. I want to make sure you arrived okay.

(917) 460-5480 such a gentleman! i don’t want to wake u if ur asleep tho

(917) 308-3117 I doubt I’ll be sleeping, but it’ll help ease my mind.

(917) 460-5480 alright ill shoot a text ttfn

(917) 308-3117 ttfn?

(917) 460-5480 ta ta for now god u r a grandpa

(917) 308-3117 Yeah, yeah

Bucky’s mouth split into yet, another grin as he set his phone down once again on the nightstand. He picked up his discarded book and found his place on the page. After a few minutes of re-reading the same paragraph over and over, he slipped the bookmark into the gutter of the book. His mind was too preoccupied with the thought of some random girl in the city at a boring work dinner. He realized he hadn’t stopped smiling since they temporarily said goodbye.

Maybe there was a good chance this conversation would carry into tomorrow.

CHAPTER TWO

[horansqueen]

one shot request: y/n is watching Niall working out and seeing him all sweaty really turns her on and he helps her out after his workout (based on workout Niall 🥵)

okay so, 2.5k. im supposed to be sleeping because i work tomorrow. but i just had to post this first. i hope you guys enjoy! SMUT. the usual warnings i guess? so i added the pics or Niall and a few gifs because visuals are always good. so here it is. let me know what you think!

I've always loved summer days, and that feeling had really increased this year. I always had the habit to get on the terrace to sunbathe or read a book (or both) but this summer, my boyfriend had started working out right next to me. He said he wanted to enjoy the sun, and that it was more motivating, but one night, when he was very drunk, he had admitted that not only did enjoy spending more time with me, but he also liked the way I was looking at him when he worked out. It surprised me slightly since I thought I was clever and subtle about it but I couldn't deny that I enjoyed watching him work out next to me.

I thought we would be used to each other after over a year of dating and spending all that time together but it seemed like I would never get enough of him. Mentally and physically. He didn't need to work out, he was already perfect the way he was, but there was something sexy in watching him sweat, and that something couldn't be compared to anything, except maybe when he'd sweat and groan while being on top of me. The thought made my eyes flutter behind my sunglasses and I turned my head slowly and slightly to look at him. I couldn't do much since he was zooming with his coach but I just enjoyed the view, not able to focus more than two seconds on the book I was reading.

When he finally stopped, he got up and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat off is forehead and looked back at my book, pretending to read. I felt his body move closer to mine and suddenly, my sun was blocked by his shadow, making me move my sunglasses up on my head to look at him.

"Can I help you?" I asked, raising my eyebrows, as I saw a smirk draw itself on his lips.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." he replied, the left corner of his lips raising up slightly more. "I could feel your eyes on me the whole time I was working out." he added, crossing his arms on his chest.

My eyes wandered on one of his arms for half a second before moving back to his face. "I have no idea what you're talking about." I just said with a shrug.

"You're a good actress Y/N, but you can't fool me." he added with a chuckle. "Besides, you've been reading for over an hour and you haven't flipped a page."

This time, I grimaced and he laughed some more, taking a step back and taking his towel again to place it around his neck. Slowly, I got up and tilted my head to stare at him.

"It's just because I was lost in my thoughts."

"Lost on my chest, you mean, but it's okay, you can look all you want." he let out, half-joking, raising his eyebrows and sending me a cocky smile.

"Oh you're hot alright." I admitted, taking a step closer. "But can you really please a girl? That's the real question, Horan."

He placed both of his hands on the sides of the door frame and I held my breath, my eyes immediately moving to his armpits. Why was this so fucking hot? Why did this sight totally turn me on?

"I'd be offended that you ask... if you didn't scream my name and shake in my arms every single time I fuck you."

My eyebrows raised and my lips parted at how bold he was but I couldn't really deny his words and I just licked my lips, moving again his way. The closer I was getting the more his smile was growing and when I was so close that I could feel his body heat hitting my skin, I inhaled deeply, staring into his eyes. Was it wrong to enjoy his post-workout smell and the sight of sweat falling on his forehead?

"I can bet you anything you want that I can keep quiet the whole time you fuck me."

He chuckled and shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine, and his hands gripped the door frame more. "Bullshit." he replied, clearly teasing me. "You start whimpering as soon as my hands get on you. It only takes a fingertip and those beautiful eyes of yours just close while your lips part. And the way you moan petal, that's totally worth it."

He was right, and I knew it, but it was a challenge I was ready to try. "What do you want to bet?" I proposed, tilting my chin up and licking my lips.

He glanced at my mouth and when he looked back in my eyes, his smirk was even bigger. "How about if you lose, I get to fuck that pretty dirty mouth of yours whenever I want for the next week?"

'Whenever I want', for Niall, literally meant 'whenever I want'. It could be three times in an hour, or randomly while driving to the grocery. Sometimes, I would even wake up in the middle of the night with the tip of his dick between my lips. He knew what 'owning' was all about and he enjoyed it. I did too, and he was well aware of it.

"And if I win?"

He bent down more and his lips were almost touching mine but I didn't budge. My heart was beating so hard in my chest though that I was wondering if he could hear it.

"If you win, I'll spend two hours between your legs every day for a week."

"With your mouth?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Mouth, tongue, lips, nose, my whole face if you want."

"Oh, I want." I admitted with a small smile, bringing one of my hands up and brushing my thumb on his bottom lip. "Very very bad."

"It's a deal, then." he whispered. "And we're starting now."

Without giving me a chance to protest, he crashed his mouth on mine and I had to stop myself from whimpering as my heart jumped in my chest. He tasted so good and when he pushed his tongue in my mouth, I shut my eyes tight. Quickly, he turned us around and walked my way, making sure I'd step back inside as his hands found my waist. I broke our kiss and grabbed the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head quickly and throwing it away. I didn't know if going faster was going to make it easier for me, but the thought of him eating me out for two hours while I came over and over on his face was strong enough to make me want and try to win this bet.

"You're so impatient and you think you can actually win this, pet?" he chuckled low. "This is impossible for you, I know you too well. I know exactly what to do to make your heart race, your pussy throb, and your body shake."

I knew it was true but I simply let my lips run on his neck, ignoring his words. His skin tasted salty due to the sweat and somehow, that turned me on even more. I swallowed the moan that threatened to escape and felt his hand slip under my shirt.

"Like when I play with your tits, and run my thumbs on your nipples." he continued, doing exactly what he was saying and making my eyes flutter. "I'm impressed, petal. Didn't think you could keep quiet with that. Now let's try something else."

He took a small step back and worked on my pants, unzipping them and pulling on them. I held my breath and looked down at him as he got on his knees and helped him take my pants off before he threw them farther. The left corner of his lips raised again and slowly, he moved closer to me, his gaze still stuck to mine. I held my breath when his lip pressed against my panties but it didn't take long until he pulled them on the side to run his tongue on my slit. I immediately reached for his hair and let my eyes roll back as my head fell on my shoulders. What exactly did I get myself into? Niall knew me by heart. I was definitely going to lose.

He slipped his tongue inside me and I pressed my lips together as one of my hands reached for his hair, pulling on it hard and pressing his face more in my pussy. I knew it was going to be even harder to keep my moans in but I couldn't resist. I started grinding on his face and when he moaned against my pussy, I started feeling dizzy.

"You can't do that." I pointed out in a whisper, making him laugh.

He got up and I blinked a few times as my vision was getting clearer. He was close to me and my eyes dropped to his glistening lips. "I can do what I want. I'm not the one who can't make any noise, you are."

Suddenly, he moved closer and his hand wrapped around my neck, making my heart skip a few beats and I held my breath again. Slowly but a bit roughly, he brought me to the couch and made me lie down on it before laying on top of me. With his free hand, he snapped the side of my panties off and my eyes got bigger but I had a hard time focusing on anything else but his fingers pressing on my throat.

"You make me so hard, petal. I'm so horny. I'm gonna fuck you so hard it'll be impossible for you to keep quiet." he added before I felt his cock press on my inner thighs, realizing he had pulled his shorts down quickly. "But I'll help you a bit." he finally let out with an other smirk, choking me slightly more. "Not easy to moan with my hand on your throat, right darling?"

"Fuck you." I whispered as my lips parted, making him laugh again.

"Fuck me? No fuck you, that's what I'll do."

Without waiting, he moved his hips against mine, making his dick fill me completely in half a second. My eyes opened wide and it was a miracle I didn't let out any sound, but I spread my legs more to feel him as deep as possible.

"Look at you, all fucked under me. Don't you wish you could moan my name?" he chuckled. "You know what I'll do darling? I'll allow you to moan my name once. Just once. When you cum. How's that? What do you say to your amazing boyfriend?"

"Fuck you." I repeated with a smirk, making him raise his eyebrows.

"I was thinking more something like, 'Thank you, your dick is massive and I can't wait until you fuck my mouth multiple times a day for a week'... but it'll do."

If he hadn't started to thrust in and out of me at this moment, I would have laughed and replied something smart, but the way he was moving completely out of me before pushing himself back deep inside me over and over again was making me dizzy.

After fucking me for a while, he let go of my throat and I breathed in deeply to catch my breath. He moved back on his knees and grabbed my waist, pulling me up and turned me around. I felt my palms sink in the cushions of his couch but the way his hands ran on my back and until my ass made me close my eyes again. He spread my cheeks and pushed his cock inside me again but slowly this time, and I could feel myself throb around him.

"Fuck, my love, you feel so fucking good." he groaned low, slipping one of his fingertips in my ass. "I miss your moans though, why don't you let out a few whimpers for me?"

I didn't answer and he just let out a low 'Alright then!' before thrusting in and out of me again, pinching and slapping my ass whenever he wanted. He ended up with his chest leaning against my back, his damp skin rubbing against mine as he held himself on his couch with one hand while the other was running on my breasts quickly.

"You make me want to cum deep inside you." he murmured as his hand brushed on my stomach to reach between my legs. "I want to feel you clench around me, first. I want to hear you moan my name as you cum."

Two of his fingertips started rubbing my clit as he fucked me harder and I knew it was close. I tensed beneath him, shutting my eyes tight, and despite myself my body quivered and a low moan escaped my lips. He didn't mention it and his thrust became unsteady. He kept pushing himself harder and deeper inside me, making it harder for me to keep my balance and without any warning, I felt an orgasm hit me.

"Oh my god, Niall, fuck!" I let out louder than intended as I started shaking.

It only took him half a minute to started coming too and the grunts he let out as he kept fucking me to ride both our orgasms made me see spots behind my eyelids.

We ended up both panting as he peppered kisses on my shoulders, making me shiver, and after a while, we both lied down on the couch, facing each other.

"I heard it, you know."

My eyes fluttered open and I started nibbling on my bottom lip, sending him an innocent look and making him laugh. "Heard what?"

"I heard you moan before you came." he explained, totally aware that I knew what he was talking about. "I won."

I raised my nose up and groaned. It had been tough and I couldn't believe I had lost like that. I was so close to win.

"But you put up a good fight." he added, his smirk turning into a fond smile. "How about we both do what we said we'd do if we lost?"

I raised my eyebrows at him and my lips curled. I brought my hand to his cheek and brushed my thumb gently on his cheek, watching a few drops of sweat fall off his forehead.

"That's nice of you."

"Hey, I'm a nice guy." he chuckled, moving closer to peck my lips.

"And... I did stare at you the whole time you worked out." I admitted, trying to hide my smile. "It's just so hot, I can't help it."

This time, he laughed and his nose raised up in the cutest way possible. "If my work out sessions can always end like this, pet, I would never complain."

[they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon]

Please Don’t Leave Me

Sirius Black x Reader Fluff

Words:1641

Warnings: Panic attacks, sad boy hours, two swear words

A/N: Got some Sirius comfort for you, also (Y/p) means “Your Patronus“

After how long you and Sirius had been friends you’ve developed a special bond, you would stay up late and talk, he found it so easy to talk to you and be vulnerable with you. He loved that you wouldn’t push him, or bring it up the next day, you just helped him how and when he needed it.

And after your chats you’d go with him go up to the marauders dorm and kiss him on the forehead and say one last “You’re safe” and he’d be able to sleep. No matter what time it was you’d be there for him. And the next day he would go back to being his flirty, confident self.

One day he had gotten a really bad letter from Walburga (You refuse to call her ‘Sirius’s mother’ or ‘his mum’ she doesn't get that right after what she’s done to him)

It was just after the dinner feast and the ancient most noble house of assholes’s ‘Bitch bird’ had flown off after Sirius untied the letter from his so called family, ripping it open, he just looked at the page for a bit, only half reading it before getting up and running from the great hall with his hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying. Merlin, he hates crying. 

The group watched him leave, you and James looked at each other as if telepathically talking about who should go after him. The two of you knew the most about his trauma. You ended up going after him.

You knew exactly where he would be, on the 2nd floor in a little secret room that you and Sirius have practically claimed as yours. The marauders had found it while making the map, Sirius started to go there when he was overwhelmed with feelings, one day you had found him there, and you just sat together, and for the first time, he was ok with crying. That was the day he started to open up to you.

***

“Siri?” walking in you saw him in the back corner. His head was buried in his knees, holding his hair so tight it would definitely be pulling some out and he was crying, the kind of crying where you feel like your suffocating, where you swear you’ll become dehydrated from all the tears, where no matter how much time passes that day your eyes will still be red.

You sat crossed legged next to him, didn’t move to touch him or talk first, after doing this for how long you had, you’ve picked up on what helped him best.

The main being, let him move first. Not only did it give him a bit to collect his thoughts but it made him feel more in control in a safe space. Growing up in his household he had no control on anything in his life and he was told to never show emotion as it showed weakness, told to sit straight, keep your head down and do as you're told, or else. So giving him a chance to feel and think and register that it is ok to show emotion and that he does have control of things.

He slowly started to shuffle over to you. Taking his hands from his hair and holding yours in one, and wrapping the other around his knees, he was still curled into himself and crying but he could breath now. It was a start.

Ever so slowly he leant on your side, you just held his hand in both of yours. After around five minutes he had gone from sitting in the back corner to leaning on your side and holding your hand. A year ago, he would be sitting alone, crying and hating himself.

He fully curled into your side, his other hand going looping around your arm and basically hugging it and he buried his head into your chest. Kissing his forehead you slowly move one hand from his and into his hair, running your fingers through it, making him melt into you.

The two of you sat there for a while, just holding him and humming to yourself, he always liked the small vibration it made in your chest.

You both just sat there calmly, blocking out the world, you had no clue how much time had passed. In this room, you were in your own world. There were no obligations to be anything other than yourself, you didn’t have to worry about school work or ‘family’ or anything, you could just exist.

You’ve even brought pillows and blankets to the room so you could sleep there overnight, when leaving the room was too much for him.

Peter had asked why you guys didn’t just go to the room of requirements. The room of requirements isn’t just for you and Sirius, everyone could get into it, only you and the marauders knew about this room. It was hidden behind a statue in the back of a corner of a dead end hallway no one else really went to. Other than to snog for ten minutes before class.

Taking your hand from his hair, you grab your wand and look up to the roof for a moment before looking back at Sirius and smiling softly.

“Expecto Patronum”

A thin wisp of silver poured from your wand and hovered like mist before you before moving off around the room transforming into a (Y/p) and continuing to play around the room.

“Wha’d you think of?” Sirius mumbled watching the wispy animal dance around the room, since he mumbled it into your shoulder it sounded a bit more like ‘whadyoinkoff’ but you got the jist of it.

“When I met you” Putting your wand back in your robes, you rake your fingers through his hair again.

Sirius lightly scoffed “Don’t lie, surely that’s not one of your most happy memories that you can cast a corporeal patronus. We met because me and the boys pranked you and got you sent to the hospital”

“Trust me, I remember, and adore that day” 

“Why?”

“Well, for start I met you four, and for the two days I was in the hospital wing, a certain boy with majestic hair, perfect grey eyes, and bad jokes” you tilt your head slightly so you could see his face a bit better

“Hey! My jokes are amazing and you love them” he scrunched his nose up with a tiny smile 

“Yeah, yeah, anyway this amazing person sat with me until Poppy would kick him out, cause he felt bad”

“I like that memory too” he sighs, your patronus had vanished at that point, as you had stopped focusing on it, but it had done its job, it made him feel better. It always made him feel better. Which is why you were able to cast it.

Sirius had calmed way down to the point he was a puddle on your side. “You’re all melty” you smile resting your head on his and he hummed in agreement and a small head nod.

You stayed like this for a little longer but your arm started to fall asleep “Siri, I love you, but my arm is ‘bout to fall off. So why don’t we take these obnoxious capes off and cuddle with the blankets and pillows?”

He nodded again moving off you (rather reluctantly) before giving you a little smirk “Sounds like you just want me to take my clothes off” 

With a sigh, a smile, and a shake off your head you throw your cape to the other wall “Sirius, I will leave” You joke, before quickly realizing now was not the time for that kind of joke, you had just got a bit distracted as he was joking as he does when he’s feeling alright, before you can ‘fix’ what you said he grabbed your wrist a stressed look on his face.

“Please don’t leave me” 

“’s ok love, I’m not going anywhere” you give him a soft smile, moving over to the pile of blankets and pillows in the corner, grabbing some and making a nest like bed pulling one of the softest blankets up.

“Come here” you open your arm and pull the blanket back and he basically leaps next to you and attaches to your side like a koala.

You give a soft chuckle, shifting so you're comfortable, Sirius basically engulfs you, tangling his legs with yours, his head resting on your chest so he can hear your gentle heartbeat, while you wrap your arms around him holding him close, making him feel safe. Keeping him safe.

“You're not gonna leave, right?” he mumbles, eyes drooping  “I’m not going anywhere”

“You’ll keep me safe?” he yawns “I’ll always keep you safe”

“And you love me?” “I love you so much” “I love you too”

“Sleep now Siri, I’ll be here, keeping you safe, and I do so cause I love you” He slowly nods falling asleep in your arms.

You were finally about to doze off yourself when there was a soft knock and the door cracked open, James’s head popping around it “He ok?” he whispered  “He’s ok now, if you wake him up, I will hex you into the next millennium” you whisper back

James just nodded and slowly closed the door, he knew how much you loved his brother and didn’t want to disturb that. He left smiling with the picture of a calm, sleeping Sirius, with a small smile on his lips.

Bonus:

“Who 's that?” Sirius grumbled going to move, but you gently moved his head back to where it was. “Was just James” “Should I say bye to im’ tomorrow? For wakin’ me up?” “Yes,” you smile “now shh, go back to sleep, I’ve got you”

He just nodded and fell back asleep as you did shortly after.

[clonecaptains]

Please I need soft Santi! Like helping him shower helping him shave because he is just so lost. But reader takes care of him. He buries his head in their neck once in bed and snuggle so hard. Maybe even a moist cry but reader just wraps her legs around his and plays with his hair. He doesn’t have to put up a hard exterior with her. She will take care of him.

OMG ANON THIS JUST SPARKED A FIC IDEA????? I JUST WROTE SOMETHING REAL QUICK?? i could cry anon ive been having writers block for weeks and this just sparked something

i didn’t proofread this so im sorry for mistakes omg 

it’s soft w/ a lil dirty santi action in the shower but it’s v light 

word count is 1k!

tagging: @pascalispedro, @damndamer0n, @tintinwrites, @mandoplease, @darksideofclarke, @yougottakeeponkeepinon, @huliabitch, @himbopoes, @mylifeliterally

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Santi’s tired. He’s so tired. His whole body aches, he hasn’t had a chance to let down in far too long. Maybe since before he joined the military. It takes a toll on one’s body to be on alert all the time. But this time, this time he lets down. Not his guard mind you, but he stops to breathe.

He’s laying on your shared bed, jeans undone, belt unbuckled, shirt unbuttoned. That’s as far as he got before he collapsed on the bed with a sigh. His belt buckle is digging into his stomach uncomfortably, but he can’t bear to move. He’s too tired.

You come home later and find him there, asleep. Or mostly asleep.

You press a gentle hand to his back, resting on the warm muscle under his shirt. With a lifted eyebrow, he angles his head to meet your gaze.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi, you,” he whispers back. His eyes closing and he hums as you rub his tense shoulder.

“Are you feeling ok?”

Silence.

His breathing is steady, but his lack of an answer is all the answer you need.

“The dream again?” you ask.

He nods, eyes still closed. This time you see a small tear fall from the corner of his eye.

The guilt eats away at him. He often wakes in the night from terrible nightmares. It’s usually the same one, where his beloved team member his shot in the head. Sometimes that team member is replaced with you.

It scares the hell out of him. Maybe he’s let his guard down too much.

You know what he’s thinking. Gently, you sit down on the bed next to him, still rubbing his shoulder. Your hand moves up to his hair. Lightly scratching his short hair on the nape of his neck. Your fingers wind up through his greying curls and he groans. A soft whimper follows, and he’s about to break.

“C’mon,” you tell him and pull him up. “Shower time.”

His hand squeezes yours when you pull him into the bathroom. He doesn’t question your actions, just follows quietly. He knows when you’ve got something on your mind you won’t take no for an answer.

You surprise him first by hopping up on the counter. With your legs spread slightly, you pull him to stand between your thighs. His brow is quirked in question, but again he’s going to follow along. If he’s about to get laid he definitely isn’t going to stop you from what you’re doing.

His hands make a home on your thighs and rub up and down.

“I thought you said it was shower time?” he asks, leaning in to kiss your neck.

“Shaving first.”

He pulls back, a very confused look on his face.

“Honey,” he laughs rubbing your thighs again, “You love this.” He moves a hand to rub his jaw, the stubble scraping under his fingertips. “You make these cute little noises when I-“

“Santiago,” you flush and shove his chest a little. “I do love it, but I love the man underneath even more. You’ll feel better after a shave. Besides, it’ll grow back by like, tomorrow. Let me do this for you.”

Reaching for the bottle of shaving cream, you pour some into your hand. You dab it on his cheeks, and he watches you with soft eyes as you move.

When his cheeks and jaw are covered, you reach for the razor. But you’re hesitant.

“Do you trust me?” you laugh, suddenly embarrassed in front of your own husband.

“Baby, you let me shave your legs that time when you broke your arm,” he reminds you. You can’t help but smile at the memory, and how cute he looks with shaving cream all over his face. You’d kiss him if you wouldn’t get the foam on your own face.

“But this is your face!”

“I trust you,” he scrunches his nose with a smile. You breathe deeply and go in for the first touch. The razor glides on his skin, and he seems quite calm. His hands still moving up and down your thighs, reassuring you.

He moves his head easily for you, letting you be the guide when you need to tilt him to get all of the hair.

When you’re all done, he presses a kiss to your cheek. Remaining foam gets on your skin, but you can’t help but smile.

“See?” he pats your thighs.

You smile, but still your heart hurts for the man in front of you. While he was good and still, there was an air of sorrow surrounding him. You can tell from the look on his face, the heaviness in his eyes.

When you hop off the counter, you turn the knob for the shower. You push his shirt off his shoulders, and he pushes down his jeans and tight black boxers. You undress quickly and follow him in the shower.

That’s when it comes out, the pain.

His hand is against the wall, the water pouring over his head. He’s looking down at his feet. His shoulders move as he breathes, and when you touch his warm skin that’s when he breaks. He looks up at you with tears in his eyes.

The dream must have been really bad this time.

“It’s ok,” you shush him and coo. Your voice soft as you pull him into your arms. Your bodies slick and warm and close. The chain around his neck presses into your skin, and his face buries into the crook of your neck. You don’t stop rubbing his back, your nails scratch gently.

You hold him for a long time. You hold him until his breathing returns to normal. You don’t let go until he does. He straightens up and reaches for your body wash.

“Going for that first huh?” you tease and push his shoulder. “You should let me wash you.”

“With ‘Fresh Gardenias’?”

“If you want,” you laugh, and he squirts a generous amount into his palm. He blocks your body from the spray and takes his time to wash your skin. He takes a little extra time feeling your breasts and ass in his slick hands while he kisses your neck.

He sniffles only once more when you comb your fingers through his curls when it’s his turn to be washed. Something about your affection has him melting under your touch.

“Ready for some food?” You ask him, noticing his eyes still look heavy. A good dinner and quiet might help clear his mind before bed tonight.

He nods, turning off the water.

He steps out, reaching for a towel he wraps it around you. He pulls you in for a tight hug and hums out a thank you into your dripping wet hair. He pulls back and cups your face in his hands to tell you again. The look in his eyes brings tears to yours, it’s then he smiles a real smile before kissing your lips.

Santi wraps his arms around you again, his cheek brushing up against yours.

“I think I missed a spot,” you laugh when you feel a small patch of stubble on his cheek.

He snorts out a laugh, “unless it’s just too hideous for you then I’ll worry about it tomorrow.”

“How can I even stand to look at your face?” you kiss his cheek.

“Don’t tell Fish,” he shakes his head.

“I don’t know maybe I should, he might feel better if you have patchy facial hair too.”

Santi barks out a hearty laugh and you cover your mouth, shocked at your own joke.

He’s still laughing even as you get dressed and thinks on it as you eat. You know maybe that nightmare is still eating away at him, but for now he’s happy and laughing. And to you that’s all that matters.

[kurlyfrasier]

The Plan: Step Four (final)

Raph x Reader

Synopsis: Reader has a plan to win her favorite terrapin over. Step Four: This wasn’t part of his plan.

Warnings: some violence, somewhat dark raph (although I think I’d really enjoy some dark!Raph. Know anyone who writes that?)

Word Count: 2281

You weren’t paying attention as you walked home from a leisurely day in the lair- even if it did start kind of rough. Your thoughts ranged from Layla’s insincere words to a game you couldn’t seem to beat Mikey in. You thought maybe he had figured a way to cheat and had yet to share his insights. Then you thought about churrs, causing an unconscious smile to grace your lips. Raph hadn’t churred all day, though- which turned your smile into a frown.

“Hey there, girlie,” a rough voice said next to you, stopping you cold as you held your breath. “I liked that smile.”

“Yeah, me too, Vinny,” another stated behind you, his footsteps heavy on the pavement, his voice sinister. “I bet we can make her smile again. Whaddya think?”

“Real pretty like?” The first voice you assumed to be Vinny, snickered. “Ya really think so, Jim?”

Blood rushed in your ears as your breathing turned rapid and eyes raked over your surroundings in a panic. It had gotten dark on your trek home and you may have passed it a block or two back- you weren’t certain because you didn’t travel the opposite way of the lair very often. Not only had you passed your home, but you seemed to have turned into an unfamiliar alley. One that reeked of liquor and urine. So definitely not the best alley you could have wandered into. 

“Yeah,” Jim chuckled, sounding closer, close enough for you to feel his body heat behind you. The eerie sound gave you chills. “I bet her scream sounds like a siren’s call, too.”

On some unknown reflex, you elbowed Jim in the stomach, sidestepped away from Vinny, and spun to face the so-called men in a fighting stance- the cold, rough brick behind you a comforting presence. The move surprised you and your wide eyes proved that.

“Oh-ho!” Vinny laughed as he nudged his doubled-over, hacking friend with a menacing grin. “She’s a feisty one.” 

Jim spit at your feet. “Good. I like to tame them-”

“Do ya hear that?”

You strained your ears and steadied your breathing, hoping the rush of blood would go silent.

“Wha-”

“Shh!” Vinny put a finger up to his lips, eyes wide and frantic with fear. “I swear I hear-”

The pavement beneath your feet vibrated and that’s when you noticed the deep, rumbling, growly noise coming from the shadows behind the men. Whatever it was, wasn’t human and had your heart rate beating wildly in your chest.

“Ya promised, Swee’heart,” the baritone growl forced your eyes to focus up and into the shadows, latching onto familiar, furious green eyes. You ignored the new nickname, thinking it was the anger talking. His voice was deeper than you had ever heard. His gaze promised retribution. For the first time since you had met him, you were scared. Scared of what he was capable of. Scared the men before you may not see tomorrow. Scared of his fury and what it meant for you.

“Hey!” One of the men shouted, already facing away from you. “We found her first.”

“Yeah! Go find your own b-”

A hand reached into the dim light. Three-fingered and deep green wrapped onto the talking man’s neck, squeezing just enough to shut him up. The man automatically grabbed the wrist the hand was attached to- a sad attempt to free himself. His friend stood statue still and silent as he stared at the mutated hand. 

“Ya promised ya wouldn’ go lookin’ fer trouble,” Raph said, slow and meticulous, eyes never straying from your own as the ground continued to vibrate beneath your feet. “An’ I tried stayin’ away, Swee’heart. I really did. But these lowlives kep’ talkin’ an’ I didn’ like wha’ they were sayin’.”

The statue moved, but Raph grabbed the back of his shirt in a flash. The man squeaked.

“Nuh-uh. Where do ya think yer goin’?” Raph held him in place. Now that he was facing you, you saw it was Vinny who tried to run. “She’s been workin’ real hard learnin’ how ta fight,” his eyes gleamed. “It would be a shame if she didn’ get ta practice.”

You cocked your head, slightly confused, arms long ago fell to your sides. Was Raph saying to hit the man?

“Ya elbowed this guy pretty good earlier,” Raph shook the man he held by the neck and you were certain he was going to pass out at any moment. Raph smirked. “Thought ya might like a chance ta hit this guy too.”

“R-really?” Your voice shook. You weren’t much of a violent person, but you had been curious if Raph’s praise during practice was truthful. Plus, it felt great defending yourself a bit ago.

“Yeah. Wide stance, remembah?” 

You nodded, a gleam in your eyes as you got into a fighting stance. 

Raph somehow grunted in approval over what you had, by now, figured out to be another one of his churrs. “Do me a favor, though. Only hit ‘im once. I don’ wantchya ta hurt yaself.”

You gave him a half nod, pulling your arm back and aimed for Vinny’s eye. Bone crunched under bone. Your arm vibrated from the contact and you pulled back, shaking the sharp pain out of your hand and wrist, causing more pain than you thought it would. When you looked up you saw you missed Vinny’s eye and instead, jabbed his nose. Vinny was groaning in pain, hands filling with blood as Raph chuckled, still holding the men in their place.

“Good hit, Swee’heart,” Raph tossed Jim into the side of the building and he slumped onto the ground in silence. Then Raph jabbed Vinny in the temple, knocking him out and dropped him on the ground before crossing the alley.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Raph stood in front of you, unable to stop the protective churr that still hadn’t quietened down even though the threat was literally passed out on the pavement. He had a feeling it wouldn’t stop unless he took you to the lair- where he knew you would be safe- and had Donnie check your wrist.

“C’mon,” Raph lifted you up into his arms and made his way to the roof. He stayed silent, aside from the churring, and was comforted by the fact that you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder as he hopped roof to roof until they arrived at the manhole closest to the lair. Reluctantly, he set you down, knowing he couldn’t hold you and enter the sewers at the same time. Immediately after he closed the manhole up he lifted you back into his arms and held you close. Thankfully, you didn’t protest. He never wanted to let you go. Pride filled his chest as he remembered the move you pulled the same moment one of the thugs reached for you. Not that you saw what that lowlife was doing, but the dread that filled Raph as he watched was a memory he would never forget. It made his blood boil, you being in danger. He was happy now that you had convinced him to teach you how to fight. 

Now in the lair, he strode straight for Donnie’s lab, his obnoxious churring catching everyone’s attention as he walked by. They didn’t dare follow him. Not even Leo.

“Donnie,” Raph’s voice was demanding as he walked into the lab. “I need ya ta check Y/n’s hand an’ wrist.”

“I’m not touching her,” Donnie stated, backing into the wall, hands up in surrender as Raph sat you on the table.

“What. Why not?” He growled along with his churring, never taking his eyes off of you, a hand rested on your knee.

“Your churr, bro. I’d rather keep my shell in one piece, thanks.”

“I won’t hurtchya, I promise,” Raph gritted out, squeezing your knee without realizing it, still not moving his gaze from you.

“Raph,” you rested a hand on his, causing his grip to loosen, and the other on his chest. “I’m okay, see?” You moved your wrist and fingers to prove nothing was broken. You barely even winced, but he saw it and it kicked his churr up a notch in volume. 

“Donn-”

“Please, Raphie?” Your plea had his heart skipping a beat, your eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I promise I’m okay. Please don’t be mad anymore-”

“Mad?” Both brothers spoke in shock.

“I’m not mad, Swee’heart. I’m-I-” Raph ripped his gaze away from you and looked to his brother for help. He didn’t know how to express that he just wanted you by his side. That he wanted you safe and away from danger. That he couldn’t live without you. That he’ll always be there to protect you. That you didn’t need to fight because he vows he will always be with you in whatever capacity you deem him worthy of. That you were never leaving his sight again if he had any say in the matter.

“He’s not mad, Y/n. Although, I could see why you would think that considering how domineering his protective churr is.”

“Protective?” Your face scrunched in confusion.

“Yes,” Donnie nodded and Raph looked back to you, never wanting to look at anything other than your beauty for eternity. “He wants to keep you safe and, in his eyes, the only thing he deems good enough to protect you is himself. Honestly, I’ve never seen him like this so I’m worried that if I touch you, he’d try to kill me.”

“Kill you-” Your furrowed brows raised in surprise. “Raph you didn’t?”

“No,” he held your gaze with confidence. He may not have killed those men in the alley, but he wanted to. His entire being begged him to squeeze the life out of one and crush the other, but he didn’t. He was worried you may never want to have anything to do with him again if he did and that thought kept him refrained.

“That’s good,” you breathed out. “So now what?”

“Donnie’s gonna check ya out,” Raph unconsciously rubbed his hand up and down your thigh in a soothing gesture. More for himself than for you. Touching you proved you were alive. That you were there- with him.

“Not with you in here, he isn’t.”

“Well I’m not gonna leave ya,” he rasped barely above his churr, leaving the sentence hanging. You now knew what this particular churr meant, he didn’t need to say it.

“Yes-”

“No way in-”

“Raph,” you cupped his face in your hands. His eyes closed at your gentle touch. “If you want Donnie to check my hand, you’re going to have to leave the room.” His eyes flashed open at the suggestion.

“No-”

“Five minutes.”

“Fiv-”

“No-”

“Minut-”

“No-”

“I promise.”

Your words made him pause for a beat. His churring the only sound to be heard. Donnie still hadn’t moved.

Two.

“Ya said that before, Swee’heart.”

“Donnie isn’t going to hurt me, Raphie,” the nickname made his heart soar even as your hands fell to your lap. “You know this. And you know I didn’t go looking for danger.”

“Tha’s not what it looked like ta me,” Raph saw the confusion cross over your face. “Ya walked past yer place and cut through three alleys headin’ who-knows-where before ya entered that last alley an’ those guys saw yer pretty little smile.”

Your eyes widened in shock as your cheeks turned into his favorite shade of pink before you finally stuttered out your question. “Y-you think I h-have a pr-pretty smile?”

He tucked some hair behind your ear. “Yeah, Dum-dum-”

“And you wanna keep me safe?” Your voice was determined this time, a certain gleam in your eye that had always frightened him. You looked as if you had connected more dots than he had ever planned to let you connect.

“Y-yeah-”

“Then why am I not your Layla!?”

“My Layla? Oh-”

“Yeah! I’ve learned how to fight. I had to freeze my butt off just so you would be forced to lend me a shirt! I-”

“Ya did what?” His sharp tone shut you up and had you looking to Donnie for help. So Raph blocked your view of his brother, smirking down at you. “Y/n, ya can borrow my shirt any time. No need for a ruse.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “But that still doesn’t explain why we- w-why we aren’t y-you know?”

“Togetha?” Raph finished for you, a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” you whispered, looking down at your lap, thumbs fiddling.

“‘Cause I nevah thought ya would wan’ somethin like me,” Raph answered, voice hoarse, his churring much quieter than before.

“Like you? Raph, I’ve liked you for months!” You exasperated, clearly frustrated he didn’t get the memo.

“Ya deserve more than me-”

“No! Don’t you dare do that, Raph,” you gave him a pointed look.

“But ya do-”

“Oh yeah? Then who do you think could protect me better than you?”

Raph stayed quiet, unwilling to answer that. He was certain nobody could protect you better than him, but that wouldn’t help him convince you otherwise.

“Exactly,” you whispered out before tugging him down by the edge of his plastron. Surprising him with your soft lips against his own.

~~~

Donnie never did check your hand that night and Raph’s churring didn’t stop for the next few days; going back and forth between his deep, growly protective churr and his rumbly happy churr- depending on who was close by. Layla claimed she became stifled because she was always stuck in the lair and was never able to go on any ‘proper’ dates, which eventually led to her breaking up with Leo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Oh gosh...I had to write the little “L” word lol and I added in a tiny kiss too! I usually try not to do that lol Idk why cuz I like to read them lol but whatever. I hoped you like this! :D

Want to read more by me? Masterlist

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Concept: RED Spy is down, his watch damaged and the knife blasted from his hand by a clever strike from a BLU. His ribs ache from the force of being hurled bodily into the unforgiving soil of Teufort’s rocky ground, and he grits his teeth into a snarl. 

He can fight without his knife, he lived this long as a Spy prior to this whole mess of a contract... but it would not be easy. His ankle feels damaged, twisting as he rolled and Spy curses at the misfortune; still, his arms were hale enough to enact a chokehold when the opportunity arose. 

The sun disappears as looming shadows block the light, and hearty chuckles linger in the air, the malice behind the sound sending a shudder through the espionage agent. He understood, this was... well, it was personal to a degree, if he had a downed BLU then of course he would think nothing of enacting some quick revenge for a past death/insult.

But it was also their job. He hoped to take at least one down with him, if possible... but it would not be the end of the world to die here and now, later he could hunt them down and delight in the gurgled screams as his butterfly knife pierced their spinal columns. 

Blood dribbled slowly from the shallow indentations in his bottom lip wheren a few teeth had pierced accidentally during the heavy impact. Spy’s tongue darted out automatically to catch it, equally thrilled and revolted by the taste of the coppery substance... 

He grunts as a heavy Texan boot digs into his side, and two voices laugh uproariously as if the world’s wittiest joke had just been exchanged. They would pay for tha-...

His vision flashes sharply a second later, pain radiating through his face like an explosion as a steel-capped boot makes contact; without even consciously registering it, Spy knows his nose is broken. That was a sensation he had become all too familiar with in the past. 

He cries out as something heavy crunches down on his legs, efectively trapping him. 

“Aw, don’t be such a wuss Spah, I manage to carry that around when it’s full all’a the time!” the BLU engineer coos, his expression worryingly unhinged, though not unfamiliar... the RED Engineer had made the same face a truly disconcerting number of times in the past. 

Indeed, the toolbox weighed more than one would suspect, and if his ankle had not been shattered before, it certainly was now. There was only one solution, if he could but find it... where was his-...? 

“Oh laddie, don’t go looking for your pretty little pistol... our spook went and knicked that when ye blacked out for a second, like the delicate little crossaint ye are.” BLU Demo taunted, crouching down over the RED. 

Spy did not recall blacking out, but that’s not generally a good sign...

“You are, as ever, outclassed here, mon frier.” came a smug voice so like his own that it irritated to no end, as the BLU Spy faded into visibility.

If this had been the first death of the day, or even the twelfth, then perhaps he would not have stopped trying to find a solution. Beady blue eyes darting subtly around until some ingenious escape plan came to light and he could be freed from this mess...

But it wasn’t, and he was so, so very tired. Between the Pyro, Sniper and a number of rather lucky swipes from the BLU Medic, Spy had been dying all day long. He would love for this to end quickly... but given the location, and the unlikelihood of help arriving in time to curb the enthusiasm of the currently losing team surrounding him... Spy felt that things were not in his favour this day.

Hovering gently across the room, the intel gleamed innocuously, cruelly. A beacon that lured them all to their deaths day in, day out on these damn capture the flag campaigns; a beloved sight for both the teams’ benefactors. 

And so they died, day after day, for nothing more than a glowing briefcase with an ever-changing array of useless paper inside. Why, last week there had been a recipe for some fried chicken with eleven herbs and spices... useless, though Engineer had been eager to try it, as had another fried chicken afficiando on the team. 

The week before? A number of magazines, a short story about some science fiction show he was certain may have been written by one of the Pyros, and a crudely drawn map to different households that Spy could not make heads or tails of...

A slap snapped him back to reality, sending fresh waves of sizzling pain through his face as the damage to his nose once again took his full focus. 

“Looks as if he’s back with us again.” BLU Spy said, radiating smugness from every pore as he flicked out his knife with unnecessary flourishes. “Good evening Monsieur, seeing as you will be staying with us for some time, I would hope you will be an obbliging guest... and not miss out on the festivities. Such as,” he said, pointing the blade directly at a blue pupil, “when I remove your eye from its socket, hmmm?”

“Hey, I called dibs on ‘im first boyo.” BLU Demo exclaims, swatting at the blade-wielding hand, and trying not to look too pleased as it scored a deep groove across Spy’s face. Spy hisses at him through clenched teeth, loathing the man. “He needs those eyes to see what ol’ eyelander and I are gonna do tae him, aye?” 

“Just don’t go hogging him, I’ve had to rebuild a dozen sentries today because of him. Not to mention my back’s achin’ somethin’ fierce from all the damn backstabbing the little red weasel’s gotten away with.” BLU Engie interjected, groaning as he stretched, fingers and spine making awful audible pops. The man flexed his gloved hand and the mechanical whirring sent chill straight down the Spy’s spine. “Now see, I’m thinkin’ that fair’s fair only if’n I get to pull yours right on out of that body of yours. Whatcha think about that, you filthy RED?”

It would technically fall under ‘fair’, but not anything Spy particularly wanted to experience. Before he could open his mouth in his own defence, with a smooth ‘Gentlemen, please...’ the mechanical fist slammed in from the side. Bile rose automatically in his throat at the sensation of a tooth dislodging and blood filling his mouth. The BLUs seemed wildly unhinged today, beyond their normal bloodlust... but they had lost all week long, so they may be getting sanctions and penalties from the Administrator.

His head whirled. When was the last time he’d had more than a few hours sleep this week? The last time he drank some actual water or ate something substantial? Maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess if he’d not insisted on skipping the team lunch during ceasefire, in order to do some covert surveillance in the enemy intel. 

Consciousness flickered. 

There were delighted but angry voices jabbering back and forth about ‘waiting their turn’, and ‘going a little easy to start because the french fry had to last’...

And then, there was screaming.

It was almost like a bad horror movie, with the sounds of screaming, crunching and swearing flickering in and out. Little snippets of a full scene that he could not comprehend as his battered head swam...

In the sudden silence, loud and grotesque for the heaviness of it, all that could be heard was a sharp, angry series of breaths.

Spy blinked frantically, trying to ascertain what had happened, trying to cling to the here and now when all his body & mind wished for was to give in to the swirling darkness. 

A figure coalesced before him, eyes seeming to glow with a feral light, body and bat completely splattered with blood and gore, expression half in shadow. 

“S-Sco-...?” Spy tried to get the word out around damaged molars and a outhful of blood. Everything throbbed, but the silence was a symphony of hope to his ears.

“Don’t worry, they won’t fuckin’ touch you again, Spy. I got ‘em.” growled an unusually serious Scout, his fist shaking around the bat’s handle. He seemed frozen, a figure in a portrait surrounded by the broken corpses of the BLUs, uncertain what to do next.

A wheezey exhalation from Spy seemed to snap the runner out of it, and he knelt to shove against the toolbox pinioning the espionage agent to the ground. It clunked to the ground with a heavy metallic finality, and Spy sighed at the sudden freedom. 

“Ya look like shit, Spook, so we gotta get ya out of here before those guys fall outta respawn lookin’ for revenge.”Scout says, mouth running while his eyes dart over the mess that the normally immaculate espionage agent made. He slips an arm under Spy and they slowly work the man into a sititng position.

Ankle’s definitely shattered, Spy notes with a true lack of enthusiasm.

“Scout... just prop me against the wall there and take the intel. Once it is secured, they cannot touch me anyway, as the humiliation round will keep me safe.” 

“And just who the fuck do you think you are ordering me about like that?” Scout objects, eyes never once leaving Spy’s face. 

“Someone who wants to win as much as I do?” Spy hazards.

Scout leans back on his haunces, crouched by Spy. He tilts his head, “Ya a real bastard, ya know that? I don’t care about the intel, we gotta get you outta here. But if it means that much to ya...”

In a frankly ridiculously fluid movement, Scout is up, across the room and back again before Spy could blink. The intel snapped to his back like a magnet.

Spy is hauled to his feet with minimal protestations, an arm over Scout’s shoulders and the runner’s other one about his waist. The majority of his bodyweight was resting on the runner, and Spy felt rather despondent about their chances of surviving like this.

He said so.

“The others are coming, don’t worry about it.” Scout grinned. 

Heavy machinegun fire could be heard above near the BLU spawn, along with delighted maniacal laughter. The REDs were here, and judging by the beeping of a sentry, they were spawncamping like no tomorrow.

“See? We got this. So don’t worry about it.” Scout shrugs as they begin the slow ascent up the corridor and hiopefully towards a dispenser. Spy lurching along and trying to think of other things as each jostling movement created little discomforts. 

In a momentary pause, he looks to the runner. “Merci, mon... fils.” 

The words felt too big for such a narrow corridor to hold all at once.

Scout laughed, half in delight and half from awkward nervousness. “Yeah, yeah, you better thank me. I saved ya butt in there!”

They continued hobbling towards the rest of RED for a long moment, before Scout said, looking anywhere but at Spy. “Don’t worry about it... Dad... I got ya.”

Spy could not help but smile through a mouth of bloody, broken teeth. Suddenly, the world felt a little brighter... 

The End

[xiu21chen99]

hxh headcanon!!

/imagine ofc!! everyone expected another, i hope shhdjdkf

umm... my art?? I'll be transferring it to digi-art tomorrow or sth but uh be nice pls, im new to dis

the art is related to the hc,,, anYWAYS DARK CONTINENT ARC TIMELINE and... TW! blood, violence and death. this is what i envision the "battle for hisokas head" arc story thingey would go

ON THE BLACK WHALE!

Hisoka has killed most of the spiders already, all that was left were Illumi, Kalluto, Chrollo, Shizuku and Bonolenov (bc the latter three formed a group truce rmmbr)

he decides to save the Zoldycks for last so he hunts for the mf who mangled his face and literally killed him

Hisoka makes quick work of killing Bono and Shizuku (nooo my bby ;-;)

Chrollo and he have a sort of stalemate stance bc they're in a discrete room in the Black Whale, they're meters apart and they're literally just walking in a circle to see who'd make the first move

Bono and Shizuku's bodies are in the same room

Illumi comes in with Kalluto in tow and the two siblings stop dead in their tracks to watch

that's when Hisoka moves in for the kill

but Chrollo counters w a spell he pulled from his book- an explosion erupts, tho it's a small, kind of controlled one but still, everyone in the room are forced back

Hisoka's thrown to a wall while the other three skid back on the feet

the emergency alarms ring in the room, the automated doors move to close

Illumi and Kalluto make eye contact before Kalluto runs for it, Illumi goes to block the door when he left, making sure Chrollo doesn't follow suit before walking towards Hisoka

"what are you doing?" Chrollo asks when Illumi helps the clown to his feet.

"oh, did i not tell you?" Illumi pulls out a few needles from his outfit "Hisoka has also commissioned for your head, but only under the circumstance where he could see."

"no, you forgot to mention that." Chrollo humors, book in hand and a forced smile on his lips

"oh this should be fun," Hisoka adds beside him, cracking his neck with a sinister grin

"i take it you were serious about the... engagement ring you mentioned earlier?" Chrollo asks as he flips to a page in his book

"quite, yes. i have already told my brother to not contact our parents about it, hence why he was with me up until now." Illumi explains, pins glowing with violet nen

"how boring, i had hoped you'd at least introduce me to my in-laws before we get on with it." Hisoka teases, cards in hand

"disgusting." Chrollo sneers, and the tension in the room snaps.

There's another explosion, quite bigger and definitely stronger. Illumi blocks the stray debris from his eyes with a hand, squinted eyes taking in everything that was to see.

Hisoka was still beside him though his head was snapping from left to right trying to navigate their common target

There's whispering, then Chrollo's puppets appear behind them, seeming to have grown from the concrete ground

they were mindless pawns, Hisoka gladly kicked them all til they returned to dust

what came next were Bono and Shizuku, though Illumi could have sworn they were dead earlier

"it's a stolen power, they might still be able to use their nen." Hisoka warns, and as if to prove his point Shizuku attacks Illumi with Blinky

"cut off their heads!" Hisoka yells, disappearing into the still present dust cloud of the post-explosion

Shizuku was the easier target, death made her think that vacuum of hers was a sword. Illumi pins her to the wall and snaps her head off

Bono was more clever, he hid in the dust and used his whistle like body to distract Illumi from where he actually was

Then he attacks when he had his back turned to him

But Illumi soon gets the hang of it, whips back to his right to catch Bono mid jump, and crushes his neck like paper

He drops the twice killed body and wipes his hands on his pants

There's strong aura somewhere in the room, so he follows his instincts through the smog

Another explosion, but this time actual smoke builds up in the room, triggering the fire alarms and the sprinklers

"you fucking bitch!"

"you should have stayed dead, Hisoka!"

Illumi follows the voices and now obvious sounds of fighting

as the smoke clears, he sees multiple figures go after who he assumes was Hisoka. Logically speaking, he was the only target of those useless puppets

Illumi jumps to his feet to help him, throwing pins at the three running to Hisoka at stumbling speed

He lands behind Hisoka with grace, feet as silent as ever.

the smoke is nearly gone now, so when Illumi turns to see if Hisoka was alright he's shocked to find a rock figurine, roughly formed to Hisoka's shape and build

"Hisoka-"

"i can't believe you fell for that" Chrollo says behind him, but Illumi has already sent needles flying his way

"what did you do?"

unprepared, Chrollo's sent to the wall, hands pinned and spread. there were matching pins buried deep into the palms of his hands making him unable to move

"I just killed the bastard who shouldn't have come for my friends."

his hands needed to touch something to detonate. with two more pins each added to his hands (and two more to each of his feet), Chrollo's made to float with Illumi's Manipulation

(hc power here bc i think he could do this, but he only saves it for special occasions or enemies lol)

Illumi pulls forth a mind control needle amd jams it into Chrollo’s forehead, “answer my questions, and answer me truthfully"

"what did you do to Hisoka, you could not have killed him in that short amount of time. I should have been able to sense something if you did. he is not in this room, so where is he?"

Chrollo groans, "he's trapped in the room i laid out for him"

"explain."

"i stole some random passenger's teleportation ability. its' condition is to only be able to open a portal if the room's closed and only has one door. i opened the portal and left him in the in between."

"you have been planning this, correct?"

"i only came up with it when Shizuku encountered the man with this power. he's still alive of course, but if i kill him then his nen portals would cease, and Hisoka will be trapped in that limbo forever."

"and nen after death..?"

"he adores the spiders, he surely won't hold a grudge if i killed him for this."

"this is a well executed plan." Illumi complements despite the situation

"thanks."

"open the portal, bring him back."

"why should i?"

Illumi grabs another pin from his shirt, this time giving it a lick before jamming it into Chrollo's arm

"i am already annoyed at how everything has turned out, just pull Hisoka out of the portal."

life slowly drains from Chrollo's eyes, as he goes limp against Illumi's pins that kept him afloat and away from any possible detonation medium

Chrollo-puppet, now on his own two feet, pulls out his book and flips to a page. The wall behind him opens, the metal folding out as if crumpled then Hisoka walks out, in shock. The wall closes silently, as if it never opened to begin with

Hisoka snaps out of it quickly, lips curving into a pleased smile, "nice work, Illu!"

Illumi waves a hand dismissively. "would you like to do the honors?"

"ooh~ don't mind if i do," Hisoka pulls out a card from somewhere and approaches the still Chrollo.

Illumi walks to a wall to lean against it, knowing Hisoka would take his time.

"you've married an idiot, Illumi Zoldyck." a voice said beside him, and he snaps his head up to see Hisoka's killing slash

"wait-"

But it was too late

another explosion, this time strong enough to blow the doors open and the walls broken

Illumi's once again pushed to the wall, back through the metal it poked him with blisters

As the dust settled for a third time, Chrollo stood in the middle of the room, unharmed and unpinned.

Under his foot, Hisoka. Dead?

"no-" Illumi coughs, dust filling his lungs

Illumi stumbles to the pair as Chrollo backs away, to the door now open

"Hisoka-" he falls to his knees beside the man, cradles the head to his lap. This was real, this was really Hisoka. he felt it- he felt the last ebbs of his presence fade along with the explosion.

He was really dead...

Was his Bungee Gum/after death nen a one time thing?

He was so stupid, he should have noticed that Chrollo was a fake. It had been too easy. Fuck.

Hisoka coughs, and Illumi zeroes in on it, on the way his once steady chest heaves with labored breaths. "Hiso- Hisoka?"

"Illu..." he drawls, unable to say it clearly

"what do i do?"

"ta... take m-" he coughs again, "take my heart, Illu."

"what do you mean?" Illumi presses a hand to the side of Hisoka's neck, trying to find a pulse

"this is my nen condition-" heave- "Bungee gum will help me get the engagement ring to you. it's in my heart, literally-"

"Hisoka, you are not making any sense-"

"just kill me already, illu-" cough- "and carve out my heart. you'll find the ring there."

"o-oh" Illumi's eyes widen

"do it, illu. before my-" heave again "nen runs out."

Hisoka's smiling. his glamour of texture surprise has worn off already, so his nose-less, peeling face stared back at Illumi

"go on, love."

with no other choice, Illumi elongates his nails and digs into the crevice between Hisoka's rib cage. his blood felt hot and sticky between his fingers, but Illumi dug deeper.

his heart was still beating though weakly, as if it still had a chance to live on

"bye, love." were Hisoka's last breathy words as Illumi pulls the organ out. It was shrouded in pink nen, Bungee Gum he thought, its distinct tint a permanent brand in Illumi's mind

gore slid down his hand, as illumi held it closer to his face for inspection

for a few fleeting moments it continued throbbing, but now it's stilled to a mere heart.

Illumi has done this method of killing before, but this is the first heart he thought held value

blood dripped from his hand down to Hisoka's smiling face, eyes open and gaze somewhere to Illumi's direction

as the Bungee Gum lifted, a ring popped out from an outward ventricle.

a bloody ring

how did he manage to do this?

despite the crimson, Illumi slips it to his ring finger with a grim smile

even after death, Hisoka still amazed him

He gently puts Hisoka's head to the ground, off his lap, and closes his golden eyes

Illumi's en grows with unbridled rage that it covered the whole ship. Chrollo is just a few hallways down

Bloodlust up in new heights, Illumi lets his presence explode, making sure nen and non nen users alike felt his hunger to kill

Finding Chrollo was too easy, but this time he's sure it was the real one. he was at the balcony, looking out into the sunset.

"i take it, you loved him?"

Illumi doesn't answer, instead walks closer with eery silence

"if you loved him then why didn't you tell him?"

one step forward, two, three. just a few more left.

"he wouldn't have reciprocated? blah, he was of peculiar taste, I'm sure he would've accepted you."

pins, needles, hell even a card he got from Hisoka. he threw all of it to Chrollo, aiming for where he was and the surrounding spots he could have gone to, to avoid them

pinned down and bleeding, Chrollo continues "or were you not aware you loved him until you saw him die right before your eyes?"

Illumi, more than once, said that assassins don't need friends. didn't have a need for anyone else but family.

but

"he was my friend. that's all there was to it."

Chrollo's head rolls to the balcony, falls off and to the sea. a king of hearts was placed where the head should be, engraved into the floor.

later that day, Illumi went back to the room where Hisoka was, to find Kalluto there. His kimono was bunched up by his hands to make sure blood didn't touch the ends.

"aniki, what happened here? where's danchou?"

"kallu, i want you to help me with something." Illumi said instead, "can you help me clean him up?"

"should we throw him overboard?" Kalluto gestured to Hisoka.

"no, i want to fix him up and find a coffin in this ship. i will bury him when we get back to the mainland."

"why?"

"because..." Illumi fiddled with the bloodied ring, "he was my husband."

for those of u confused don't worry, i am too. basically chrollo used a bomb dummy of himself and that’s the one hisoka killed but uh got him killed instead. shjsjfkf sorry if this was shitty it's 2:30am nd i just wanted to write this before i forgot. I'll fix it tomorrow hopefully

also the hc is the ring in hisokas heart thingey and maybe the room trap plan bc togashi wouldnt have introduced that bitch if he didnt plan on using him for the plot shjsjdkfkgl good night!

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Saving Grace - Part 15

A/N: Just a quick update because i've been slacking!! 💕

As lovely as my weekend away with Bucky had been i was so happy to be back with Harrison and Grace. Harrison had been so excited to see us when we got back to the compound.... he crashed out an hour later, clearly he wore himself out!

The next couple of days i mostly spent with Wanda, she was helping me with the kids while we sorted out the details for Harrison's birthday party. Bucky, Sam, Steve and Clint had all been kept busy with work. Bucky and Sam had had so many meetings with Ross while Clint and Steve had been training recruits.

"I can't believe our little Harry is 4 the day after tomorrow!" Wanda smiled sadly as we finished sorting some last minute party details "i missed so much of those years..."

"Aww Wan, dont be sad. You're here for him now thats all that matters, Harrison loves his Auntie Wands"

"I love him too! And my little miss Gracie, Y/N you seriously have the perfect kids!"

"They are pretty great, but i'm totally biased" i laughed quietly trying not to disturb Grace who was fast asleep in my arms.

"How's the house hunting going?"

"We've seen a few places online" i shrugged "but honestly, we just haven't had time to properly look yet what with Bucky being stuck in meetings most of the day. He comes home exhausted most days, i can't expect him to sit up for hours looking for houses"

"Ross has definitely kept them busy since you've been back from your dirty weekend" she smirked while wiggling her eyebrows.

"Funny" i laughed shaking my head at her "I think i preferred it when he didn't want Bucky and Sam involved in whatever god awful plans he's making"

"I think we all did" she chuckled.

Once the final details for Harrisons party were sorted i headed down to the gym to meet Bucky while Wanda stayed with the kids. We had arranged for some refresher training after the break in and realising how rusty i was, it was decided it would be a good idea for me to get back into fighting shape.... of course Bucky volunteered to help me. Walking into the gym i looked around for that man of mine but he was nowhere in sight, i sat and waited for 15 minutes and still nothing.

Y/N: Hey babe, i'm at the gym.... you still okay for our training session? Xx

Bucky: Fuck, sorry baby i'm still in this meeting with Ross..... can we reschedule something for tomorrow? Xx

Y/N: okay not a problem, i'll see you later xx

I tucked my phone into my bag and grabbed my water bottle ready to head back to the living quarter's when i heard my name being called, I turned around and was face to face with Steve.

"Hey, you leaving already?" He asked looking confused "you just got here"

"Yeah i was supposed to be meeting Bucky, he was going to train with me. After the break in and realising how out of practice i am we thought it'd be a good idea" i shrugged.

"He ain't coming?"

"Nope, Ross has them stuck in some meeting"

"I could help you.... i mean its not like i haven't trained with you before and im done for the day"

"I don't know....."

"Wow, you're really gonna turn down the chance to land some punches on me huh?"

"Well when you say it like that..... sure! Lets do this" i smiled shaking my head "just go easy on me its been a while since i've done this"

"We'll go slow, come on" he nodded towards the sparing mats and i followed him over, Steve tossed me some gloves while he took off his hoody and rolled his shoulders out.

"When was the last time you trained?"

"Before i found out i was pregnant with Harrison" i replied avoiding eye contact with Steve, i remembered it clearly. The second i found out i was pregnant i decided i was out of the avenging life, and being a new mom i just didn't have the time for training.

"Wow"

"I know, i should have at least tried to keep up with some of it...."

"No, its not that, its just you look good"

"Having two kids keeps me busy" i shrugged "besides, i could use the tone up. Im still carrying some baby weight..."

"Well not that my opinion counts but i think you look great" Steve said blushing slightly, it reminded me of when we first started dating. Steve would always get embarrassed when paying me a compliment, it was cute. I finished fastening the gloves and stepped onto the mat to stand in front of Steve who held up his bare hands.

"You don't wanna grab some pads??"

"Im good, i can take it" he smirked.

"Lets do this then".

It only took 10-15 minutes before i was finally getting into it, the moves suddenly falling into place, my confidence increasing.

"Okay i think we're good here for today my hands are gonna bruise" Steve smirked after a good 40 minutes of sparing.

"It'll be gone in seconds don't be a baby Steve..... besides i'm enjoying myself"

"How about we change it up then, lets work on your defence. Gloves off, i'm gonna come at you.... stop me"

"Stop you?? Steve you're a super soldier!"

"I'll go easy on you sweetheart don't worry" he chuckled, his laugh quickly dying when he noticed his slip up of calling me sweetheart, old habits die hard i guess. I didn't react to it i just pulled off the gloves and turned to throw them off to the side. While my back was turned Steve lunged at me wrapping his arms around me so my arms were pinned to my body.

"Hey! Cheater!" I moaned struggling in his hold.

"Break free..... remember what i used to tell you?"

I tossed my head back hard hitting Steve in the nose, he wasn't expecting me to hit him so hard and loosened his hold on me enough so i could elbow him in the gut, i turned in his arms and was about to aim for the groin but he quickly blocked my attack and swept my legs out from under me. I landed hard on my back, Steve was then straddling my hips with my hands pinned to the floor.

"Nice try..... did you have to head butt me that hard though?" He laughed.

"It wasn't that hard, maybe you're outta practice too old man".

"Whats going on here?" I heard Bucky from behind and i turned as much as i could to look at him.

"Hey babe, Steve offered to train with me.....but i'm not so sure he's up for the job. Old man Rogers can't even take a head butt to the face anymore"

"Still kicked your ass though"

"You can get off of her now man, you've proved your point. I'll take over from here" Bucky said throwing a death glare at his ex best friend. Steve quickly got up and went to reach his hand out to help me up but Bucky quickly beat him to it. I took Bucky's hand and he easily got me to my feet before pulling me close.

"You wanna carry on training for a bit longer or are you done?"

"I think i'm done for the day" i smiled up at him "i need a shower".

"Okay lets go"

"Thanks for the training session Steve"

"Sure, anytime".

Bucky was silent on the walk back to our room, unusually quiet.

"Hey, you okay? Did you have a bad meeting with Ross?" I asked closing the door so we had some privacy.

"Meeting was fine" he mumbled.

"So whats wrong?"

"Oh maybe it was walking in finding your ex straddling you in the middle of the gym....."

"Buck come on, he just offered to help me out for a bit"

"I know but i dont like it! Seeing him like that with you....." he shook his head and i knew he was thinking of Steve and I together.

"Hey, you have nothing to worry about. You know that right? Im yours.....Completely"

"I know that, i do, but i can't help but worry when i see you two together. You've got history and kids....."

"We have a shitty history incase you forgot? And the kids are yours, you might not be their biological father but you have been more of a dad to them than Steve has been"

"Im scared im going to loose you.... all of you"

"Baby you have nothing to worry about i promise you. I love you Bucky Barnes and im yours"

"I love you too doll, i love you so much" he leant down and kissed me hard pulling me tight to his body.

"You wanna come join me for that shower Sergeant?"

"Yes m'am".

Saving grace tags: @jennmurawski13 @kenzieam

@captainchrisstan @s-t-r-i-k-e-us

@lets--be-honest @ms-betsy-fangirl

@damnaged-princess @farfromtommy

@disneylovingal @lbuck121 @billweasleey @heathens-takeitsl0w

@lacontroller1991 @supervengerslock

@mariswritingforfun

@perpetually-tuned-out @thummbelina

@marvelousstyles @broco8 @ineffableg-irl @ilovesupersoldiers

@writeroutoftime @ek823

@Imjstaghoststory @cap-just-said-language

@xxloki81xx @death-unbecomes-you @bellemile @buckyandsebastian @afuckingshituniverse @i-ran-out-of-fanfics

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit @rynabarnesrogers-reading @rainbowkisses31 @rororo06 @supernaturalwintersoldier @fairlightswiftly

[atmilliways]

On the 2nd day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 14 - Kissing under the mistletoe (or office party shenanigans)

Charles gets roped into the role of Santa Clause at the holiday office party. 

Charles/Pickles

~

The dreaded Dethklok Inc. office Christmas party was coming up—dreaded not by the band or most of the employees, who typically had a blast, but by the CFO who had to arrange and organize everything before and after, up to and including the inevitable handful of resulting funeral arrangements.

Charles was looking forward to it even less than usual, because the band had thrown an absolute shitfit to get him to agree to play Santa this year. He didn’t know why they wanted him to do this. The party didn’t even normally have a Santa. His first thought was that it was Toki’s idea, but on second thought Toki tended to lack the charisma to get the rest of the guys to throw in with him on niche interests like that.

But fine. Whatever. He’d agreed to do it once, and next year he could simply point to whatever came of it this year as an argument against repeating the experience.

He kept telling himself that right up until donning the red and white Santa suit, the iconic hat, and the fake beard. (The damn thing was so big that practically all he could see of his own face in the mirror were his eyes. At least they were letting him keep his glasses.) Then he took his seat in a throne-like chair that had been special ordered for the occasion, specially decorated with carvings of presents, the most unsettling depictions of Christmas elves that he’d ever seen, and skulls with real candles balanced on them, lit and already beginning to dribble red and black wax . . . and immediately felt that somewhere in life he must have made a grave, grave mistake to have ended up here.

The band took the stage in the center of the hall, half the room away from where Charles sat, and went into a jumbled “Merry Christmas, go fuck yourselves!” sort of speech. He mostly tuned it out until—

“And hey, errybody,” Pickles slurred into his mic, “don’t ferget ta sit on Santa’s lap and tell ‘im what you want fer Christmas!”

That had not been part of the discussion, let alone the agreement, but at this point what was he going to do about it? Besides hope that grown men and women hired for their professional abilities would have no interest in sitting on the lap of the man who signed their paychecks.

~

“You can’t have a pony,” Charles said flatly. “There isn’t space for one in the employee barracks, and even if there were it would be both impractical and unsanitary.”

The Klokateer perched on his lap, crushing the feeling out of his legs, tittered and took another sip of his holiday punch through a straw poked up under his mask. “Oo-kay Mr. Grinchy-claus, no pony for me then. Aren’tcha going to say ‘ho ho ho, Merry Christmas’?”

“Ho ho ho. Now go away.”

Laughing drunkenly, the man lurched up and made his way off the Santa podium to get a refill of punch. The next Klokateer in line had an Online Division pin on one shoulder and a spiked eggnog in her hand. Charles braced himself for yet another request for fewer blocks on searching for porn using company computers.

~

“Hey look, it’sch Schanty Clausche!”

Charles grimaced behind his beard. “Hello, Murderface.”

The first of the boys to visit him, Murderface seemed to be in unusually high spirits. His ass landed on Charles’ knees like a ton of bricks. “Wow,” he crooned with exaggerated delight, “Schanta really does know all the namesch of the good little boysch and girlsch!”

“Very funny. Would you mind telling me whose idea this was?”

The bassist shook his head. “Hey man, I’m not here to narc on my bandmatesch, I’m here to tell Schanta what I want for Chrischtmasch. ”

“Alright. Fine. What would you like for Christmas.”

Murderface looked around furtively, then leaned in and whispered, “A dischguische kit.”

“A . . . disguise kit.”

“Yeah! I’m tired of being mobbed whenever I go out in public, scho I need it. For camouflasche. ”

Charles couldn’t remember a single incident of a fan mob forming for just Murderface; it only ever seemed to happen when one or more of the other band members were with him, though there were probably a few people who did wander up and ask for an autograph. There had been one unfortunately memorable band meeting a few months ago where Murderface had bragged about someone wanting to touch his penis for good luck, pleased at the recognition but at the same time calling said fan an ‘incredibly fucking gay regular jackoff.’

“I’ll, ah, make sure that’s added to the list,” Charles assured him, and breathed a sigh of relief when Murderface nodded in satisfaction and stood to leave.

~

“Hey, knock knock.”

Charles sighed from the depths of his soul at this second Dethklok visitation. “Who’s there.”

“Nathan Explosion,” said Nathan Explosion, dropping unceremoniously onto his lap.

Luckily, the beard hid Charles’ wince at the impact. He was probably going to have a lot of weird leg bruises tomorrow. “Nathan Explosion who.”

“Nathan Explosion, here to tell you you’re the party ho ho ho! ” Nathan broke into riotous laughter and clapped Charles good-naturedly on the back, causing him to accidentally inhale a mouthful of fake beard.

After a moment to catch his breath, Charles nodded along. “Very amusing. What would you, ah, like for Christmas, Nathan?”

“I need new pants.”

Well, that was unexpectedly straightforward. “New pants. You got it.”

“One hundred pairs. Exactly one hundred.”

“Okay.”

“Just, uh. A couple inches bigger in the waist. For the holiday weight that I am definitely going to lose in January.”

He couldn’t feel his legs; this was not the time to point out that Nathan wouldn’t have time to wear all one hundred pairs of new pants between December 25th and the start of January, nor that January as a deadline for such a drastic fitness undertaking was probably an unrealistic deadline.

“That’s fine, Nathan. One hundred pairs of pants. I’ll make sure, the, ah, elves get the message.” Maybe he would throw in some math flash cards while he was at it.

~

Toki weighed less than the first two, but was unfortunately so excited that he landed on Charles’ lap hard . Definitely, definitely going to have bruises.

“God Jul, Charles —I means Santa!” the guitarist chirped, bright-eyed and swaying slightly. Charles fervently hoped he wasn’t about to throw up; he didn’t even think being covered in vomit would do much to get him out of this holiday circle of hell. “Merries Christmas!!”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Toki. What do you, ah, want to ask Santa for this year?”

He didn’t have a watch, but he estimated that Toki’s list, plus miscellaneous excited chatter, took at least half an hour and mentioned many things he knew for a fact that Toki already owned.

~

“Eeuyghh, looks, it ams everys-ones favorites butler,” Skwisgaar said, then folded himself gracefully into a sitting position. After an hour or two of being sat on like this and having plenty to compare it to, Charles wondered if the man was eating enough.

This was in spite of the fact that Skwisgaar was toting around a small plate loaded with various cheeses, fruit, and greasy finger sausages skewered on toothpicks. Party food. To Charles, who hadn’t realized that this gig would take so long and therefore hadn’t eaten in advance, it smelled wonderful.

The Swede must have noticed him eyeing it, or perhaps heard the growl of his stomach over the noise of the surrounding party somehow, because he smirked and held it out in offering. “Pickle says for you to haves this. Gots to keep yous strengths up, you knows.”

Pickles, Charles noted as he balanced the plate off to one side on one of the less obvious and candle-less Christmas skulls. He also pulled one of the sausages free of its toothpick and reached under the beard to jam it in his mouth. Still warm.

“Thank you, Skwisgaar,” he said once he’d finished chewing. “Now, what can I get for you? Ah, as Santa. Ho ho.”

“Everyones know it ams three ‘ho’s, dildo.” Skwisgaar steepled his fingers. “But I woulds like five ins mine room to enjoy ons the Christmas morning. You know the kinds I likes?”

Charles didn’t know what he’d expected. “It’s my job to know, so . . . yes.”

“Greats.” The guitarist patted him on the shoulder of his Santa suit. “Glads that ams sorted outs. Keeps up that good works, yous.”

Then he got up and wandered away, leaving Charles to realize that he hadn’t had a chance to ask him who was behind this whole Santa idea.

~

Charles finished the plate of food before Pickles made an appearance. He also realized that he could persuade his increasingly inebriated employees to bring him more food, and also drinks, by threatening them with cleanup duty after the party. (He was not in a generous mood; the ones that tried to weasel out of it at first would get cleanup duty regardless of whether they eventually caved or not.) There was no way to escape the alcohol content in the drinks—even when he asked for water it came spiked with vodka or peppermint schnapps, because everyone wanted to see the company’s CFO hammered.

At least they knew better than to roofie him, because Charles would have them killed.

He saw Pickles coming from a mile away. Maybe it was because Charles knew that once all of Dethklok had a chance to visit with “Santa Clause” he would be allowed to escape this torment; maybe it was because he really wanted to know if Pickles was, indeed, the mastermind behind this whole thing; and maybe it was just a tiny bit because he was annoyed the drummer had forgotten to wander over earlier.

But being annoyed at any of the guys was a nonstarter. Putting up with their antics was just part of the job.

“Heeeeeeeeeeey,” Pickles greeted him as he swayed his way over and plopped onto Charles’ lap. Unlike everyone else who had visited Santa this evening, he didn’t stick to perching closer to Charles’ knees but scooted in as close as he could until they were practically nose to nose. Mingled notes of every kind of booze available at the party wafted the short distance from the drummer’s mouth (and shirt, and hands, and dreads), until all Charles could smell was Pickles. “Lookin’ hot in that suit, dood. Is the temp in here okay? Gettin’ a little warm in there?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Charles said, trying not to be too aware that Pickles seemed incapable of sitting still and his ass was rubbing against . . . things. “Ah. Merry Christmas.”

Pickles snickered. “Did Nat’en make that ho joke?”

No one could see for the beard that Charles’ lips twitched toward a smile at that. “Yes, he did.”

“‘M glad yer not a ho, Charlie,” Pickles slurred affectionately. “A'least, not no much'a one. That’d be a bummer.”

“Ah . . . okay.” He didn’t know what to make of that, or the continuing subtle lap dance, so he said, “What would you like for Christmas this year, Pickles?”

“Weeeeell. . . .” Grinning, Pickles waggles his double-pierced eyebrows. It seems like he’s trying to be suggestive, but Charles has no idea what that’s supposed to suggest. The drummer leaned even closer, lips brushing against Charles’ ear as he murmurs, “I kinda already got my present right in front’a me, chief. Just gotta unwrap it.”

All of this was sending shivers and goosebumps down Charles’ spine under the (admittedly warm) Santa suit, but for heaven’s sake, it was just Pickles. When wasted, which he was more often than not, man oscillated between being a destructive drunk and clingy one. Apparently tonight it was . . . very much so the latter. Not a good time to ask about the Santa plot, really.

He had dealt with this before, just not with Pickles literally draped over and inconspicuously grinding on him. Come on, Offdensen, pull it together . Do not get a boner at the holiday office party. No matter how long it’s been!

“Well, ah, sounds like you’re all taken care of then,” Charles hazarded. “All that’s left to do is, ah, enjoy the party. Why don’t you go do that.”

Pickles chuckled, a low, sultry sound that just made the situation even more difficult. “Workin’ on it dood, I’m workin’ on it.” He shifted thoughtfully again, then bit his lip through a grin. “And it feels like we’re gettin’ there, huh chief?”

“I. Ah, what?” At least the big fake beard was concealing his blush better than he’d been able to contain his body’s mounting interest in the increasingly distracting ass squirming around on top of him. This is a public place , he wanted to protest, but didn’t want to risk pointing out something that might be completely unintentional. After all, it was Pickles , who did this sort of thing fairly regularly.

But the next murmured words out of Pickles’ mouth stopped every single one of Charles’ thoughts in their tracks.

“Fuck, even in this stupid suit yer sexy. How d’you do that?” A brief nip, teeth closing and tugging on Charles’ earlobe before releasing with a soft wet pop .

Nothing but overwhelmed static on the other side of that ear; the quiet gasp was completely involuntary.

“C’mon Charlie,” Pickles all but whined, “you don’t have to do this anymore. Jest call it a night and meet me in the bathroom or somethin’, okie?”

The amazing thing, Charles thought distantly, was that from a distance, it wouldn’t look like anything was happening. Just a grown man, swaying drunk off his ass, sitting on Santa’s lap to whisper what he wanted for Christmas. Regular office holiday party shenanigans for a laugh. But under the surface, Charles was starting to feel like a shaken champagne bottle.

“You, ah,” he managed. “You do realize that you, ah, seem to be prepositioning me for, ah. Sex?”

Pickles leaned into him with a laugh. “Like I said, dood, that’s what I’m tryin’ ta do. Fer like, fuckin’ forever. For a smart guy you can be pretty stupid, y’know that?”

“Ah.” Charles shifted awkwardly and nearly choked when Pickles very pointedly pushed into it at the exact right moment. “There’s . . . a chance I’ve been told that before,” he hedged, already vowing to himself that he would never admit how many times. This isn’t something he ever would have looked for, but mistaking Pickles hitting on him for god only knew how long for just being an affectionate drunk? That was pretty fucking funny if you thought about it, and he'd consumed just enough alcohol so far to really give it some very serious thought.

And . . . his job was to keep everyone in the band happy.

“So, ah. There are several bathrooms off this hall. . . . Which one did you have in mind?”

[illfoandillfie]

After Party

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Reader x Lucy Boynton

Summery: You and Joe were planning on having a quiet night in, until Lucy called inviting you to the Oscars after party.

Warnings: Smut (18+), Threesome (duh), dom/dom/sub (dom! joe, dom!reader, sub!lucy, with a slight blink-and-you’ll-miss-it hint at sub!joe), orgasm delay/denial, fingering, oral sex (both m and f receiving), face fucking, little bit of choking, cumplay, spanking, strap-on, overstimulation.

Words: 6385

A/N: Ya’ll can blame @supersonicfreddie​ for this one. Also Lucy for looking so fucking cute at the 2020 vanity fair oscars party. And that video of Joe making out with a cupcake. I know that happened months ago but y’know, some things just stick with you until you write something filthy. 

(there are zero pics of them together that night and frankly that’s just not fair)

Taglist:  @laedymoon​​  @dtfrogertaylor​​  @vee-ndetta​​​ @atomic-watermelon​​ @kellypenac​​​ @labessieisallama​​​ @deakyclicks​​​ @jennyggggrrr​​​ @drowseoftaylor​​​  @hannafuckingsucks​​​  @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​​​ @queenmylovely​​​ @supersonicfreddie​  @tenement-funstah​  

It was close to ten when the first text came in. You laughed and showed it to Joe, sending off a quick reply before you turned back to the movie you were watching, pulling Joe’s arm a little tighter around you. A second text followed about ten minutes later and then a third not long after. “Is that Lucy again?” Joe asked before you could show him. “She really wants us to crash that after party,” “What’d you say?” “That we’re in our PJs already and don’t plan on leaving the house until tomorrow. Should we send her a photo to prove it?” “Make sure you get my good side,” “I’ll try,” you laughed, opening the camera app and holding the phone out, quickly snapping a shot of you and Joe, tucked up under your warm quilt. You waited all of five seconds before your phone began to ring, Lucy’s name flashing up on the screen. “Put her on speaker,” Joe said, pausing the movie. “Hi Luce,” “You’ve got to come out! This party is so much fun, you’d love it!” You winced at Lucy’s shouted laugher, “You sound like you’re having a good time, how was the Oscars?” “They were fine, boring, this is wild though! Adam Driver is dancing on a table and I think I just saw Margot Robbie run through here with Taika Waititi’s Oscar! At least, I think it was him chasing her,” she broke out into laughter again, though the noise behind her faded out as she headed for somewhere a little quieter. “Stop namedropping,” Joe said, clearly amused, “it’s getting late and we’re all snuggly over here, I was thinking of a little snack and then bed.” “Oh god, don’t tell me you’re becoming one of those couples,” “One of what couples?” “One of those boring couples who never do anything fun. It’s just after ten, that doesn’t count as late. Now get up, put on something niceish and come join me here.” “We are not boring,” joe became indignant at the implication. “Then come and prove it. I’ll make it worth your while,” Lucy’s promise hung between you as you and Joe exchanged looks, both of you interested, but she followed it up with a long, “pleeeaassee,” anyway. It reminded you of what had happened last time Lucy had ended up back at your place, and that was all you needed to be convinced. “Fine,” Joe said into the phone, “We’ll come. Give us like half an hour to change and get over there.” As soon as he’d hung up you were both moving, pushing yourself from the couch, stretching. “What should I wear?” “Go with that blue dress. If Lucy’s anything like me she’ll be drooling over you so damn fast.” You giggled at his cheeky grin, “She’ll be drooling no matter what I wear, did you hear how whiny she sounded?” Joe laughed, “Couldn’t miss it. It was so hard not to ask her to beg.”

It took a little closer to 40 minutes for you and Joe to arrive but Lucy managed to keep her texts asking how far off you were to a minimum. She was waiting for you inside the lobby when you arrived, squealing when she saw you and pulling you into tight hugs. “Finally!” “We’re not that late,” “Shhh, yes you are. I love your dress! C’mon, we’re missing all the fun,” she grabbed your hand and dragged you upstairs, the noise getting louder with each step you took. There were people everywhere inside – women who’d kicked off their heels, men with undone bowties, some sitting around laughing and talking, others busting a move on the dancefloor. Lucy led you straight towards the crowded bar and pushed her way into the throng, giving you no choice but to follow. “You guys are like three behind me, so start with these,” she handed each of you a shot glass, “and then you can have some champagne.” “Do we get any food? Y/N made brownies earlier and I didn’t get to eat a sixth one because you called and made me come out.” “I think I saw food down that way,” she pointed away from the bar. “Hold my drink I’ll go find us something,”

Joe returned, triumphant, with a selection of cupcakes on a plate, each of them decorated with shards of toffee or chocolate curls and edible gold glitter. He carried his haul to a spare table, batting away your hand when you tried to take one of the desserts and picked one out for himself, taking a bite as seductively as he could manage. Lucy laughed which only made it harder for you to keep a straight face. “Jealous?” he asked through his mouthful. “Little bit,” "Well,” he said once he’d managed to swallow the cake, “I can fix that.” Joe darted forward to peck you on the lips, laughing as he pulled back an inch, almost nose to nose with you. “Not sure that helped much,” you initiated a second kiss, longer but soft and sweet. “Careful honey, or we’ll make poor Lucy jealous,” You turned your head and caught sight of Lucy, cheeks tinged with pink though that might have been the warmth of the room. “I’m not jealous.” “Oh yeah? How about now?” Joe bit into the cupcake again, right as Lucy began filming, covering her mouth so her giggles wouldn’t be heard too loudly. “Instagram is going to love that,” “They definitely will. Not as much as you’re going to enjoy…” he leaned in towards her ear and said something too quiet for you to hear. Whatever it was had an instant effect, Lucy’s lips opened in a soft gasp, her cheeks turning a darker shade of pink and her eyes darted towards you. You just smiled back and took another sip of drink. It took Lucy a few moments to recompose herself but it was made easier when Joe was pulled into a conversation with a few people he’d previously worked with, momentarily forgetting about teasing Lucy. Not that it mattered since you were there to take his place. “I didn’t say it before Luce, but I adore your dress. It’s gorgeous!” “Thank you! I’m so happy with it. Makes me feel like a princess,” “It totally suits you,” you giggled along with her, before leaning a bit closer and dropping your voice, “And kind of makes me wonder what you’ve got on underneath.” Lucy froze with her drink halfway to her lips. “Can’t really blame me though. It’s such light material, almost looks see-through in some places. Tease.” You looked off at the crowd as if you weren’t talking about Lucy’s undergarments, “Do they match the aesthetic, princess? They all pretty and pastel? I hope so.” “Lilac.” She almost whispered, not quite able to meet your eye. “Bra and panties?” “Flesh coloured bra. Lilac panties.” “That does sound pretty. And I bet we’ll be able to turn those pretty lilac panties a bit see through themselves with how wet you get.” Lucy bit her lip, eyes darting around to make sure no one was listening in. “But, really, you should have got rid of them the moment you called us to come here. You certainly won’t be wearing them for long once we leave. If we decide you deserve to come home with us. Pretty fucking obvious it’s what you wanted when you called.” Lucy whimpered right as Joe reappeared. “Y/N, what have you been doing to poor Lucy? She’s got that pleading subby look about her.” “I haven’t done anything to her. All we did was talk, hardly my fault if the silly little slut gets wet from it.” “Can we go, please?” Lucy asked, looking up at Joe. “Not yet, princess,” you said, “we were all comfy in our PJs when you called. So we’re going to stay for a bit longer, make the effort of getting up and driving over here worth it.” Joe leaned down to your ear, “Are you sure? She looks pretty needy already.” “I think we can get her looking downright desperate before we go.” You were both grinning when you turned back to Lucy, a slightly panicked look about her, though she was obviously aroused too. You could have sworn you heard her heart pounding as you shuffled your chair closer to hers, crossing one leg over the other and turning your body in towards hers. You definitely felt her shiver when you ran your fingers through the ends of her hair. Joe dropped into the seat on the other side of Lucy, taking her glass from her and placing it on the table in front of you before dropping his hand rest on her knee, blocking her in. His hand rose higher up her thigh, pulling the dress up with it and pulling another whimper from Lucy. “Awww, poor princess,” you cooed, “You wanna be touched, don’t you?” “Yes,” “Wanted that since the minute we arrived, haven't you?” “Yeah,” “You know if you just asked, we’d be happy to oblige,” “I asked to get out of here and you said no,” “Hear that Joe, she wants to get out of here and we’re being so mean,” you dropped your tone to the mocking one that never failed to make Lucy blush. “Awww, princess, you don’t get to make those decisions. And believe me, if we took you home with us now it wouldn’t be half as fun. For you anyway.” “You’re nowhere near ready for us to use yet. We’d have to tie you up and make you watch us until you were a drippy mess.” “We’d strip you first of course, wouldn’t want to ruin such a pretty dress,” Joe pinched the hem of her dress between his thumb and forefingers, dragging it a little higher up her legs. “And then we’d tie you to a chair so you’d have no choice but to watch me fuck Y/N until you were begging to be fucked the same way.” “If we were feeling generous we might use your mouth for a while. You’re very good with your mouth.” “And if you were very well behaved and begged enough we might find the energy to use your cunt. But chances are we’d be all worn out, spent, and you’d spend the night wet and desperate.” “In our bed of course, so we could make sure you weren’t playing without us. We’d make you wait all night for it,” you tugged on her hair, noting that Lucy’s legs were spread open just a little more than before, inviting you to touch her. “But if that’s what you want,” Joe made to stand up but Lucy stopped him. “Please, no. Stay.” “Then what do you want?” “I want one of you to touch me please,” “Touch you where? Gotta be specific, Luce.” Lucy’s eyes were wide as she looked at you, pleading for you not to make her say it, but she knew it was no use. She’d been caught between you and Joe enough times to know how much you enjoyed hearing her ask for what she wanted, how much you enjoyed making her blush and squirm, even if she pushed back. Sometimes especially when she pushed back. For a moment you thought she was going to cross her arms and pout and refuse to obey. But then. “Touch my pussy, please.” It was barely audible over the noise of the room. You glanced up at Joe who winked back as you dropped your hand and slowly began to trail your fingers up the inside of her thigh. Joe did the same on his side, slowly, softly. Lucy whined and let her legs fall open a little further. With a chuckle you pressed your fingers to the wet spot already forming. “Remind us what your safeword is,” “Apple,” “Apple, good girl. Now, don’t be too loud. Wouldn’t want anyone to realise what’s going on here,” you warned as you dragged your fingers up and down over her panties, irregularly pausing to circle her clit. Joe’s grip tightened on her leg to hold her in place as he kept talking to her, reminding her of what happened the last time she’d submitted to being your plaything, telling her how filthy she was for wanting you both to use her again. Lucy was struggling not to whine out loud, giving in when you pulled your fingers away. “Shhhh, princess. You knew you weren’t going to cum like this so there’s no point being a needy brat about it.” You wriggled your fingers under the leg of her panties, dragging them through her slick as much as the angle would allow. Her delight at finally being touched the way she wanted soon turned into a groan as you pulled your hand away, snapping the leg of her panties against her in the process. “Uh uh, don’t complain. Would have let your greedy cunt clench on my fingers a few times if you’d been good enough to remove those. But you didn’t, so you don’t get to.” You stood up, Lucy’s hand grabbing at your own. “Where are you going?” “Not far,” you shook her hand off and took the few steps that brough you to Joe’s chair, dropping onto his lap. He grinned as you brought your lips to his, the kiss harder and messier than the other you’d shared since you arrived. When you pulled back, shifting your attention to his ear and jaw, Joe grabbed your hand and brought your fingers to his mouth, sucking the residual wetness from them. “Fuck Luce, you taste incredible,” Lucy let out the most pathetic whine imaginable. “You reckon she’s desperate enough to fuck yet?” You laughed, nipping lightly at Joe’s jaw, “no but I think she’s desperate enough to take home.” Lucy was barely three steps into your living room when Joe unzipped her dress revealing her bra and, as she’d promised, lilac panties, a very noticeable wet patch darkening the front. He threw the dress over one arm and grabbed her ass with the other, “Y/N was very generous to touch you. Think it’s time you repaid the favour.” Lucy nodded and mumbled a yes as she moved behind you, unzipping your own dress. “Here, I’ll take that one too, darling. I’ll hang them up,” he draped the second dress over his arm and left you with a quick kiss, “you can get started on the slut.” Lucy whimpered but was quick to move when you clicked your fingers, kneeling at your feet. You ran your hand over her hair, smoothing it out, “Why am I still wearing panties?” Lucy gasped as you tugged on her hair, pulling her head back to look at you, “You know you have to earn the right to be fucked, and you know how much I love your pretty whore mouth. So what are you waiting for?” “I’m sorry,” she said, hands already grasping at the material and tugging it down your legs. You slackened your grip on her hair, letting her drop her head forward again, though you didn’t let go completely. Your underwear was halfway to your ankles when her tongue met your core. Slightly hesitant at first, she flicked her tongue over you, drawing back to look up at you with wide eyes. “Good girl, keep going,” As soon as she had your approval Lucy leaned back in, more sure of herself with every hitch in your breathing and every tug on her hair. Her fingers spread you open as she explored every inch of your pussy, nose nudging your clit as she sucked on your lips, the flat of her tongue dragging along your slit, small moans and hums getting lost against your skin. Joe was greeted by the sight when he re-entered the room, his cock already half hard from teasing Lucy. He’d shucked off his pants and shirt when he hung your dresses out of harms way, so there was only the thin barrier of his boxers when he palmed himself, watching from the doorway. “Good girl, Luce,” you gasped as her tongue pressed into you, her hands tight on your legs for stability and leverage. Joe took that as a cue to join in, his fingers brushing over your side as a warning he was there seconds before his lips found your throat. You hummed at his touch and let your head fall back. “You look like you’re having fun,” his voice was rough, right against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, “she behaving herself?” “Better than normal,” “Guess that’s what happens when she gets so desperate,” Joe laughed and busied himself with your neck again, sucking at a spot he knew would drive you crazy. Slowly he trailed his fingers up your sides again, pulling away to unclasp your bra. He threw it to the side and replaced the material with his hands, squeezing your breasts and rolling your nipples between his fingers as he began creating more marks on your throat. Your legs were fast turning to jelly, stimulation coming from both sides. Lucy was focused solely on pulling you to the edge, pushing first one and then a second finger into you as she lapped at you. “Can tell you’re getting close,” Joe mumbled, “aren’t you?” “Yeah,” the word slipped into a moan as Lucy shifted on her knees, latching onto your clit right as her fingers twitched against your wall. “Go on, cum all over Lucy’s face. She wants it, Y/N. Wants you to reward her for being so obedient, being such a useful whore.” “Fuck, yes, s-so close,” your leg shook as your orgasm approached, grasping behind you for Joe. And then it stopped. You whined as the edge slipped further away, blinking as you looked down and found Lucy smirking up at you. Your head was cloudy but Joe realised what had happened, quickly stepping around you to grasp at Lucy’s hair himself. She hissed at the strength of his hold. “You fucking brat,” “I was just repaying her like you said to. She didn’t let me cum before.” Joe didn’t know what to say to that. He walked towards the couch, Lucy having no choice but to follow on hands and knees. Realisation of what had happened crept up on you as you watched Lucy struggle to keep up, and you followed, taking a seat before your legs gave out completely. “You still wanna cum, darling?” “More than ever,” “Hear that, brat? No more fucking games.” His hand remained firm on the back of her head as he pushed her towards your soaked folds. Lucy let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a whine, but it was muffled as her mouth once again found you, Joe holding her in place. You moaned and let your legs fall open wider, the orgasm you’d been so close to before steadily building once more as you brought your own hand back to the top of Lucy’s head, laying it over Joe’s. Lucy moaned as her hair was caught between, the vibrations making your hips buck up towards her. “That’s right, Luce, keep going,” Joe growled, his free hand fumbling with the waistband of his underwear, trying to push them down. The sight of him pulling his cock free, calmly stroking it as he watched you writhe under Lucy’s ministrations, made your head spin and your cunt drip. “Use your fingers,” he commanded, tugging on Lucy’s hair again until she complied, “make her cum.” “Oh!” was all you could manage to say as Lucy slid three fingers into you, as deep as she could, fucking you with them as she focused her lips and tongue on your clit. Your nails clawed at the couch as you felt your stomach tighten, the release inevitable this time since Joe gave Lucy no other option but to finish you off. It hit you hard, a moaned curse torn from your throat as your back arched and your legs shook. But Lucy kept going, prolonging the pleasure. She slowly pulled her fingers from you, tongue still lapping up the mess you’d made, only stopping when Joe pulled her away.

Lucy was yanked back on her knees, panting slightly, Joe’s fist still tangled in her hair as he stepped in front of her, using his grip to position her where he wanted. “That was so fucking hot,” he said, tapping the head of his cock against her lips, “got me so hard. But that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” Lucy gasped out a quick yes in the second she had before he was filling her mouth, slowly easing himself in and out, letting her adjust. You watched from the couch, still a little dazed, as Joe worked himself further down her throat, cooing about how pretty she sounded when she gagged. It was only after she’d adjusted enough to properly deepthroat him that you joined them, kneeling on the floor beside Lucy. “Such a talented little slut, taking dick so well,” you said softly to her, dropping your fingers down to slide along her soaked undies. Lucy’s moan was muffled but you could tell it had happened by the way Joe’s hips bucked, pushing him deeper into her. “Gonna let Joey fuck your throat, aren’t you? Blink twice if you’re okay with that.” She blinked twice. “There you go, Joe, she wants it.” “She always wants it. Can’t fucking get enough of it.” He laughed as he pulled back and then snapped his hips forward again. He quickly found a steady rhythm, pulling wet gags from Lucy as he used her throat mercilessly. You took the chance to unhook her bra, pulling it off her easily since there were no straps to worry about. The panties were harder to get to while she was kneeling, so you settled on partially pulling them down and wriggling your hand in the rest of the way, sliding your fingers between her lips and around her clit. But never enough to make her cum. Lucy whined when you paused your movements to let her calm down a bit. “Sorry princess, am I being mean again?” She hummed urgently, Joe grunting above you as he felt it in his cock, only inspiring him to pick up his pace. “What was that? Couldn’t hear you?” “Thi-nk she want a-another edge,” “That can be arranged,” you began circling her clit again, careful not to let her get too close. Lucy blinked, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks as saliva dribbled over her chin. “He’s close, Luce, and you’re going to behave and let him fill your mouth with cum. But you are not going to swallow. Clear?” Lucy blinked twice again. “Good.” Joe pulled himself from her throat as you reached up to his balls, rolling them in your hand, pulling a gasped expletive from him followed by a moan. He was still holding onto Lucy’s hair, keeping her in place as he coated her tongue. You tugged your hand from between her legs and instead grasped her throat, warning her not to swallow. “Fuck,” Joe breathed out as he fell from her lips, panting slightly. His eyes fell to Lucy, makeup smudged, face covered in spit and tears, tongue sticking out to display her obedience, “you look like a fucking mess. Spit everything I gave you into Y/N’s mouth.” Lucy made a noise of protest and didn’t move. “Don’t argue. We know you get off on being our cumdump. We know you’d swallow load after load after load and still want more. But you decided you’d try to be clever tonight. And bratty little whores don’t get rewarded. So do what you’re told.” You grabbed Lucy by the chin, turning her head towards you, and stuck out your own tongue. She hesitated for a moment before she shifted on her knees, leaning over you and letting a string of saliva and cum drip onto you. You swallowed before pulling her into a sloppy kiss, double checking you’d got every drop from her.

When you were done you pushed Lucy from you and grabbed onto the hand Joe was offering to help you up. “Fuck that was sexy,” he whispered to you, “and it’s got Lucy so riled up.” “She is fun to tease,” you giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek before he reached out to help Lucy up too, smiling at her. “Do you want me to call you a cab Luce?” He asked, “Or you can crash here if you’d like. The spare room’s already made up.” “What?” Lucy’s tone was panicked. “What? Were you expecting something else?” “I- But- I-” “Words, Lucy,” you said kindly, wrapping your arm around Joe and leaning into his chest, “You gotta use ‘em for us to understand,” She looked from you to Joe and back again, clearly confused by the turn the evening had taken, “but…I didn’t...I thought you’d…” You raised your eyebrows but didn’t say anything. Finally Lucy sighed, “You didn’t fuck me.” “Aww, princess,” Joe laughed, “We said you weren’t going to be rewarded.” “Please, I promise I’ll be good.” “She sounds desperate Joey,” “I am. I want it so bad. I’ll do anything if you please please fuck me.” “That’s good, because you’d have to do something to atone for your lapse of judgement earlier. A punishment.” “Yes, of course, anything, please.” “What do you think darling?” “I don’t know,” “Please, Y/N,” You hid your smile as best you could, thoroughly enjoying seeing Lucy looking so pathetically needy, “I suppose we could work out something. A spanking maybe? Say five?” “You think that’s enough of a punishment?” Lucy’s head flicked between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match as you discussed her fate. “Hmmm, ten then?” “How about ten from each of us? And she’s not allowed to cum until we say she can.” “What happens if she does?” Joe thought about it for a moment but before he could answer Lucy chimed in with her own suggestion. “You tie me up and make me watch while you fuck Y/N.” “Someone liked being threatened with that earlier. But it works for me,” Joe agreed and then nodded towards the couch, voice low and rough when he spoke to Lucy, “Arms on the back of the couch and bend over.” Lucy quickly complied but you and Joe took your time joining her. “You’re fucking devious and I’ve never loved you more,” he caught you up in a kiss, pulling you tight against him. “Except when I’m using that deviousness against you, right?” A soft blush coloured his cheeks, “Yes, ma’am.” “Don’t worry, I’ve still got plenty of ideas just for you,” you laughed as he dropped his head to your shoulder with a groan, cock twitching against your thigh, “C’mon, our pathetic princess awaits.” Joe let you take his hand and pull him over to the couch where Lucy was shivering with anticipation, hands braced on the back of the couch and ass stuck out. “Who should get the first turn, princess?” Lucy opened her mouth and then closed it again, thinking it over, “Umm, Y/N?” “Yeah? You don’t sound so sure.” Lucy bit her lip, “Joe?” “Do you want us to choose?” “Yes please.” “Then Joe can go first,” you gave his bum a playful tap to send him on his way and then kneeled on the couch, lightly rubbing the back of Lucy’s hands, “we’ll be nice and get the harder hits out of the way first.” Lucy jolted with a cry as Joe brought his hand down without warning. “And then I’ll have my turn when you’re all sore and warm and drippy.” A second spank made Lucy groan, head falling forward so she was leaning her forehead against the back of the couch. You let her stay like that for a few more smacks, shifting your hands to grip her wrists more tightly, locking her in place. Each hit made her squirm, trying to dance out of the way of the next but there was nowhere to go. All she could do was wait for the next and whine when it finally happened. After the sixth spank you told her to look at you. She didn’t need to be told twice. “Why are you being spanked?” “For being a brat and trying to edge you,” she managed to pant out around the whine another spank caused. “That’s right. And you’re not going to try that again, are you?” “No,” “Good girl,” you brushed her hair behind her ear, all the better to see her face, tear stained and pleading, “Taking it so well, princess. Only a few more to go.” Joe paused to rub his hands over her burning skin, letting her take a few shaky breaths. The last three spanks came quickfire, one after another, the sound of each one louder than the last. Lucy let out a broken sob when it was over. “Good girl, doing so well Luce,” you said softly, letting go of her wrists to rub her arms. Joe agreed as he once again rubbed lightly at the spots his palm had just left. He bent forward to leave a light kiss on her back, “you okay to keep going?” Lucy took a deep breath, letting it go slowly, “yeah, I’m good.” “You sure? We can skip forward if you want,” “No, no, I can take it. I want it.” With that confirmation you allowed her one small kiss to the top of her head, a gesture that made her hum in appreciation, before you stood and joined Joe behind her. “So pretty and pink,” you said, rubbing one of her cheeks. Joe chuckled beside you, “Not sure I hit her hard enough if she still wants more. Think she forgot it’s meant to be a punishment.” “Guess I’ll just have to remind her then,” Joe took the spot on the couch, hands tight around Lucy’s wrists to hold her still. You let her stew for a minute, just rubbing your hand over her ass, letting your fingers dip down towards her pussy but never quite making it. When you heard her whine you let her have the first slap, sharp and fast. She squealed and danced on the spot. You went back to the slow, soothing, rub, giving her a chance to calm down. Once again you trailed your fingers lower, this time letting them slide along her folds. “God she’s wet.” “I noticed,” Joe said with a grin, “Pathetic.” Lucy whimpered as you kept rubbing her, though the noise turned into a squeal when you brought your hand down on her again, as hard as you could manage. Your fingers stayed between her legs, as you lay a series of rapid-fire spanks against her ass, the pink blush deepening with each one. Your hand tingled when you were done but it was worth it just to hear the way her breath came in broken gasps. “Learnt your lesson?” Joe asked, only letting go of her wrists once she'd said yes, “No more trying to be clever? No more brattyness?” “No, I’ll be good,” she pushed herself to stand up straight again. “I don’t know,” you looked over at Joe, winking at him when Lucy’s back was turned, “I think she might just be saying that so we’ll let her cum.” “I swear I’m not,” Lucy whipped around to look at you, eyes pleading. You laughed, “Let’s test that, shall we?”

Grabbing her hand, you pulled her towards your bedroom, Joe following. She hissed as you pushed her onto the bed, reacting to the sheets against her sensitive bum, but the sound was quickly swallowed by you as you straddled her and pressed your lips to hers. “God that’s hot,” you heard Joe say, making you laugh into the kiss. Lucy was hungry for more, hands coming up to grab your waist as she willingly opened her mouth to you. You teased her by intentionally slowing down, though it took most of your willpower. You rolled over so you were both on your sides, continuing to kiss her as your hands roamed over her body. She whined at the loss of energy but stopped trying to speed up when you pinched her nipple. It was always fun to get Lucy this worked up. She would have done anything you asked of her at the promise of some small stimulation. You were on the verge of telling her to hump your leg like a bitch in heat, just to see how fast she’d agree, when Joe joined in, his fingers finding their way to your pussy. You let out a moan at the contact, so worked up from playing with Lucy. And judging by the similar sound she made, he’d got a hand on both of you. He matched your slow pace as he let a finger slip into you, pumping in and out methodically, adding a second and then a third. “Please,” Lucy whined when you broke away to mouth at her neck. “Please what?” “I need more.” “More what, princess?” “More...I don’t know, more something, please.” “That’s not very specific,” Joe said with a laugh, his fingers withdrawing from you and Lucy, “but I think we can come up with something.” You grabbed Lucy’s chin and looked her right in the eye, “Don’t fucking cum.” She swallowed hard and nodded. “Alright, Joey, she’s all yours,” you pushed yourself from the bed as Joe grabbed Lucy roughly by the hips and pulled her onto her knees, her ass in the air. “About time.” There was a brief pause as joe stroked himself and then he thrust into her in one hard movement, her moan muffled by the sheets. You looked over you shoulder, taking a second to appreciate how good Joe looked, how well the dominant roll suited him, before making your way towards your cupboard where your special box lived. Unhurriedly you looked through it, finding first the harness and then an appropriately sized dildo, something comparable to Joe though a little wilder in colour. Lucy was moaning a mixture of unintelligible sounds and pleaded names, both yours and Joe’s, into the bed as Joe took his sweet time, teasing her with each slow, deliberate thrust. His white knuckle grip on her hips was the only indication of his self-control, everything else about his movements appearing easy. Once you were set up, you walked back to the bed, standing in front of Lucy and lacing your fingers through her hair. With one tug you had her raising her face towards you, pulling her up onto her hands. She didn’t even need to be asked before she was opening her mouth, letting you lay the head of your fake cock against her tongue. You tried to time each of your thrusts to match with Joe’s, one of you sliding further into her as the other pulled back. Always slow. A few times Lucy tried to speed things up, tried to take you deeper in her throat or to thrust back against Joe, but you never let it happen. His grip on her hips held her where he wanted her and it was simple enough to pull back further than she was expecting. The third time she tried to deepthroat you, you laughed. “Cock hungry bitch,” Joe chuckled too, “I think that means she’s ready for you,” Lucy nodded rapidly as you pulled back completely. Joe gave one last lazy thrust and then moved away too, letting you take his place. “Want you on your back,” you said, tapping Lucy’s thigh to get her to roll over. She complied quickly, letting you settle between her thighs, your cock resting against her soaked cunt. You leaned forward to kiss her as you slid into her, able to feel her gasp when you bottomed out. “You can cum whenever you want but I’m not stopping until I have too.” Lucy’s head tiled back as you began pounding into her and you took the opportunity to wrap your hand around her throat. Her moans only got higher and louder as she rapidly approached the edge. Joe trailed kisses over the back of your shoulders and neck, up to your jaw, as he pressed in close. Your tempo faltered as you let him enter you, Lucy whining softly, but before long you’d found your rhythm again. Lucy came when you let go of her throat, unable to hold off any longer. “A-always been vo-vocal, princess,” you panted as her cries filled the room, yours and Joe’s grunts and moans almost getting lost with how loud she was. But it didn’t take long before she was whimpering as her sensitivity rose. You didn’t slow down though, chasing your own release, just as you said you would. “She can go again,” Joe said against your ear and you brought your fingers to her clit, pushing her, whimpering, into a second orgasm. Joe came at the sight, biting down on your shoulder as he filled you. He didn’t stop though. Your own hips stilled as you felt yourself getting closer, the dildo rubbing against your clit and Joe continuing to fuck you just how you needed, even as he hissed with overstimulation. Lucy pulled you down into another heated kiss, biting your lip as she pinched and pulled at your nipples. You moaned against her lips as you finally hit your peak, trembling with the force of it.

With a groan, Joe carefully pulled out of you and collapsed on the bed. You took a few moments to calm your breathing before you climbed off Lucy, using what little energy remained to free yourself from the harness. It fell to the floor and you left it there as you climbed back onto the bed. “You okay, Luce?” you asked softly, stroking her hair. “Mmhmm, great,” “Joe?” “I’m here, I’m good,” You all just lay there for some time, breathing heavily, Lucy between you and Joe so she was in easy cuddling reach for both of you. “See, I told you, Luce” Joe said, finally breaking the silence. “Told me what?” “I told you we weren’t a boring couple.”