#yeah I know the barrel is bent

[foxiboxvii]

Have another crappy and rough sketch of my oc

[pucksandpower]

Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 11th. blaise - mirror sex, body worship.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: writing this was detrimental to my health. blaise is a man. a MAN. you’re having a terrible day, your boyfriend knows what you need to make it better.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, PIV, fingering, multiorgasm, teasing, begging, doggystyle, dirty talk, praise so much praise, body worship, soft dom blaise, pet names, the usual nasty shit you'll find this month.

"Yeah that's what I said...he didn't listen to me, though. Of course."

Parchment crinkled under the weight of your hand, quill scratching faintly as your boyfriends voice hummed in the background—an effortless drawl that filled the room like low music. You barely caught the words, caught up in the mechanical rhythm of  your writing—but that didn't stop him from droning on, stretched out like a relaxed cat on your bed—one leg bent, both hands tucked behind his head, his gaze lost somewhere in the ceiling's quiet expanse.

"And? What happened?" You asked, finally letting the quill drop, grimacing at the ink smudged across your fingers.

"Detention," he said, clearly amused, "cleaning rat barrels for a week."

You managed a smile, but it was small, fleeting—more like a shadow of the real thing. Blaise noticed, of course he did, but he let it linger undisturbed, as if waiting for the right moment to ask what was really wrong. His stories were always an offering, an attempt to pull you from the depths of a day that felt as heavy as the sky before a storm—which usually helped, but today, even he couldn't shake the weight entirely.

You rolled away from your desk, chair wheels creaking until you reached the mirror. There you were, reflected back at yourself—no makeup, hair half-tumbling from the ponytail you'd given up on hours ago, the lines under your eyes telling a story you didn't want to read. You sighed, lifting a hand to touch the flyaway strands, knowing it wouldn't help. You were a bloody disaster.

"What're you lookin' at, baby?" Blaise was behind you before you even realized it, his warmth filling the space behind your chair, his arms snaking around your waist with the same natural ease as breathing. "Did I tell you you look beautiful today?"

You exhaled as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his eyes meeting yours in the glass—

"Don't lie, Blaise," you muttered, the exhaustion making your voice heavier than it should've been. "I look a mess."

"Not a lie," he whispered back, his lips so close you could almost taste the mint on his tongue. His hand lifted, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before trailing down the side of your face like it was something sacred, like you weren't just a tired girl with too many thoughts. "You're always beautiful...so, so beautiful."

The heat from his words bloomed in your chest, a slow burn, even as the weight of the day pressed heavier. It felt as though the reflection was mocking you—this version of yourself you could barely recognize, worn down by everything that had gone wrong.

"I can tell when something's bothering you," he pressed on, his voice drawing you back, patient and unhurried. His fingers made soft circles on your stomach, waiting, coaxing. "Wanna tell me?"

"Nothing's bothering me...I just.." you shook your head, the words coming out on a breath, too small to carry the weight of what you meant. "I just had a bloody terrible day."

He hummed, thumb grazing your skin. "How terrible?"

"The kind that makes you feel like the universe is against you," you whispered, gaze falling, unable to look at him while your voice cracked. "I'm sorry—I know you wanted to go out tonight, but I just—"

"Shh—hey, don't do that," he interrupted, his fingers tilting your chin, forcing your eyes back to his in the mirror. "I don't care about going out. I care about you. We don't need to be anywhere else. I've got everything I need right here, baby. Okay?"

Merlin—your heart clenched, the ache reminding you just how easy it was to fall in love with him—and how you managed to do so, all over again, every single day. Blaise always had this way of making you feel like the center of the world, even on days when you felt like you were disappearing from it.

A small, trembling smile ghosted across your lips, and you nodded. "Okay."

"Yeah?" He nudged your chin gently, brushing more stray hair from your face—he never once took his fucking eyes off of you. "You're so fucking beautiful, babygirl...how are you all mine..."

A sigh escaped your lips as his fingers moved to massage your shoulders, his lips finding their way back to the curve of your neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your skin. The tension in your body began to melt, replaced by something warmer, softer.

"Messy hair, no makeup...you're a fucking dream," he whispered. "Every morning I wake up...and I still can't believe..." his hands trailed down your arms, a slow blaze of fire, grazing over your belly before they curved up your chest. "...that all of this...is all for me..."

Your head tipped back, a soft whimper slipping from your lips as he pressed himself closer. One of his hands slid back up, fingers curling around the base of your throat, his thumb stroking the side of your neck. He groaned softly against your temple, other hand still pawing at your chest.

"Look at you," he rasped as his eyes met yours again in the mirror. You could feel his gaze tracing the outline of his hand wrapped around your throat. "Tell me you know you're beautiful."

Your heart was racing, breaths coming in shallow bursts as the intensity of his touch, his words, filled the room. He was crowding over you, pressed against the back of your chair, his hands insistent but not frantic, like he had all the time in the world—

"I know," you whispered. "You tell me every day..."

He hummed, the sound vibrating in his throat. "Mhm…and I'll keep telling you…because I don't think you get it yet...just how truly beautiful you are…”

Your lashes fluttered, eyes heavy beneath the weight of his gaze as his fingers moved lower, the buttons of your shirt parting effortlessly, baring the delicate lace underneath.

His jaw clenched, hunger flickering behind his eyes, his touch roughening with it. “…and just how lucky I am... to get to touch you like this."

Your head lolled back onto his shoulder, your back arched, baring yourself to him with a shivering sigh. His hand around your throat tightened, not too much, just enough to remind you he held you, that in this moment —this skin—belonged to him.

His other hand moved across your chest, teasing your nipples through the lacy fabric, kneading, coaxing your heart to race under his palm.

"I'm a better man because of you," he whispered, lips ghosting over the pulse at your neck. “...because you make me want to be."

Your whimper came unbidden, warmth flooding your veins as his eyes never left yours—devouring you through the glass. This wasn't just about touch. It was something Blaise always made sure you felt in this relationship, the thing tethered between you—the fulfilment of a need to be seen and a need to be known.

"Look at you." His lips tilted in a breathy smile, dripping with reverence, with something sacred as his hand roved over your chest, taking his time. "Perfect. So fucking perfect."

Both big hands fell to massage your tits now and a small, broken sound escaped you—helpless against the onslaught, your body betraying your efforts at control. You closed your eyes, biting your lip to stem the flood, but it was useless. Blaise, like this, was unrelenting, determined to make you remember this moment, every whisper, every touch. His voice was an echo you'd hear in your dreams.

"Blaise..." his name fell from your lips in a breathless whisper. “Gods.”

"Open those pretty eyes for me, babygirl..." he purred  as his teeth grazed the curve of your neck. You obeyed with a shiver—your reflection pure chaos — a mess of need and want, heat pooling low in your belly, an ache between your legs you couldn't ignore. Blaise hummed. "I want you to watch yourself. I want you to see what I see."

His hands slid lower, skimming the curve of your hips and settling on your thighs. You watched as he moved with deliberation, savouring the way your skin shivered beneath his touch. He shifted your legs wider, pushing the fabric of your skirt higher until it bunched around your waist. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you weren't sure who was falling apart faster—him or you.

"Fuck," you moaned, barely holding onto the sound, feeling it slip past your lips like a breath. "Blaise.."

With a satisfied smile, his eyes flicked to yours and you noted the way his breathing shallowed—admired the way his fingers slipped along the insides of your thighs, tracing the soft skin without haste. The sensation made your breath hitch, and you bit down on your lip, fighting to keep your eyes open.

A low groan rumbled from deep in his chest as he pushed your skirt up further, exposing your underwear in the reflection.

"That's my girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with adoration. "These thighs...mm, fuck...so soft.."

His fingers dragged back down, agonizingly slow, tracing your thighs again.

You shuddered. You knew just how needy you sounded but gods—"Blaise, please..."

Blaise knew too, and of course he just chuckled, lips grazing the curve of your shoulder, his teeth catching on the fabric there. The nip was gentle at first, but just enough to make you gasp, your hips jerking reflexively—and you watched his eyes flash, lashes fluttering—

"Fuck...these hips," now he was growling, his nails biting into your skin. "The way you roll them...torture, pure torture... just to make me give you what you want..."

Your breath hitched again. You were a squirming mess, now—each fucking word a slow burn that licked at every nerve.

"Is that so bad?" You whispered, though the words barely left your mouth before a soft moan interrupted them. "Making you…give me what I want...?"

His laugh was rougher this time, his breath searing hot against your ear. One hand moved again, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear—and you realized you were holding your fucking breath—meeting his gaze in the mirror, wide and wanting, the tension between you thick enough to choke on.

"Not so bad...when I want to give it to you..." his fingers danced over your clothed cunt—light, taunting, threatening to give you everything you craved but holding just shy of it. Your hips rolled again, involuntarily. "But absolutely disastrous," his fingers traced higher, the ache of wanting made your pulse thunder. "...when I'm trying to make you wait."

You whimpered, snuffing a groan in your throat, and he smiled—watching the effect, his jaw falling open when he grazed over your clit through the fabric and you moaned loud—shameless.

"Gods—Blaise, please—" you were so fucking desperate now. Heat scorching your skin. Eyes squeezed shut. He was going to kill you, you were sure of it. “No more teasing—“

"Eyes open." He husked, bringing one hand back up to cup your jaw. "You close them and I'll stop. Keep being good for me, baby..."

You whinged—meeting his dark eyes in the mirror, lust blown pupils swallowing his irises. You watched yourself—his arms curled around you, strong and firm—long, slender fingers finally, fucking finally, giving you what you want—slipping under your underwear, fingertips kissing the sensitive lips of your throbbing cunt.

"Good girl...so good for me..." he muttered, slicking a single digit between your folds, grazing your clit. That did it—blinded with relief, you whinged, moaning deep in your chest. "Oh fuck, you're so wet...you need this, don't you, baby..."

"Yes—Gods—" you held his eyes in the mirror, hips jerking toward his touch. "Need it...need you..."

"So sensitive f'me..." he whispered in your ear, brushing the bundle of nerves again, earning another shuddered groan. He kissed at your jaw. "I'll never get tired of hearing you say that...that you need me..."

"Fuck—I do—always—" the words bled out, unfiltered. "Always need you."

Blaise shuddered, you could feel his hips rocking gently against the back of the chair as his fingers found your clit, indefinitely this time, and began drawing tight, frantic circles over it. Your back crested, your head falling back just slightly before you remembered what he said and returned your gaze to his in the mirror—he was watching you, body crowding yours like he was preparing a meal—and you spread your legs wider, noting the entire mess he'd made of you in minutes.

"Beautiful," he cooed, jaw tensing as you gripped his wrist—one hand shifting to grope your chest. "Messy girl...m'dying to get inside you..."

You cried out, your pussy clenching, craving to be filled by him. "Blaise—baby—please..."

Wetness soaked your thighs—coated his fingers as he dipped lower and pushed two inside you, crooking them deep. The reaction was involuntary—you cried out, ground your hips into his palm, fucking yourself on his digits, wanting—no, needing more. He groaned, squeezing your breast harder than you're sure he'd intended—teeth sinking into your shoulder in a futile attempt to compose himself.

"Fucking hell—that's it, baby—" his thumb twirled your clit, fingers driving deep—bliss burned your eyes, and you moaned. "Soaked and still so fucking tight...fuck.."

"M'gonna—I need you—" you were babbling, lost in sensation, coherent thoughts banished to the perimeters of your mind. "Inside—pleasepleaseplease��need you—"

"Cum first," his hand on your breast slipped up, tangling through your hair and nudging your face toward his—his lips found yours, soft and tender. "Wanna' make you feel good..."

Pleasure flooded you, muscles collapsing as you succumbed to it—Blaise kissed you again, holding you there, tongue delving into your mouth while he rubbed your swollen nub faster, pumped his fingers deeper.

"I...oh, Gods—already feel s'good..." you moaned into him, and he jerked you harder to his body, tongue massaging yours while his plush lips worked over your mouth. "Mm—fuck—s'good—"

He groaned. "Mhm—cum for me."

And then you did—every nerve in your body ignited at once. The obscene, wet sounds of him pumping his fingers into you filled the room, a rhythm that matched the frantic pulse in your ears. His mouth smothered the desperate cries of pleasure that fought to break free as your body convulsed, writhing against him. Your hips bucked, helplessly seeking more, fingers digging into his wrist like anchors as your entire world spun wildly out of control. He was both your rock and your undoing—keeping you tethered to earth while hurling you into the stars.

It felt like you were suspended in that ecstasy forever, the air leaving your lungs in shattered gasps, until, at last, your breathing found its rhythm again. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, his own breath shaky, eyes dark with hunger. He brought his slick-coated fingers to your lips, pressing them past, and you groaned as you took him in, suckling greedily.

"You like that?" His voice was a low rumble, vibrating against your spine. You moaned in response, your tongue swirling around his digits, eyes fluttering shut at the taste of yourself. His other hand moved, urgently, his belt coming undone and echoing through the room as he freed himself, groaning, "Fuck."

Blaise had lost his composure completely—you didn't need to look at him to know it. In an instant, you were on your feet, his hands pulling you up as he kicked your chair out of the way, rolling into the wall with a thud. You turned your head to look at it but his lips crashed into yours, both hands cradling your face as he sank to his knees, dragging you down with him. The hardwood floor beneath you was cold, but his touch—his touch was a wildfire, scorching every inch of your skin, setting your blood to boil.

You moved instinctively and gasped as your fingers found him, warm and hard in your palm, twitching at your touch. He growled low in his throat, his hips jerking involuntarily as you stroked him, kneeling together on the floor, breaths mingling in the heated space between you. The moment stretched, unbearably tense, until with a swift motion, he spun you around, turning you to face the mirror.

His hands were everywhere—on your hips, sliding down your thighs, grazing the curve of your waist—pulling your skirt higher as he met your eyes over your shoulder in the reflection—

"Look at yourself," his fingers tightened on your hips, guiding you back against him, his length slicking between your thighs, grazing against your heat. "See what you do to me."

You gasped, melting into him, tightening your thighs around his shaft, fighting to keep your eyes on his in the mirror. Blaise exhaled, cranking your throat to the side and snatching a breast before biting the meat of your shoulder, cock pulsing when you whinged in delighted pain.

"Blaise—fuck—please..." your cunt clenched with anticipation, heat at your cheeks as you watched yourself in the mirror, desperately trying to tip your hips so he'd slide in. "Please, fuck me—"

Your voice was ruined. Music to his ears. Blaise could never deny that begging.

"Shit, baby..." he pressed in, leaning you forward until you were resting on your elbows in front of the mirror—seething as his girth stretched you open—splitting you wide in a way that made your eyes roll. He pulsed at your entrance, taking his time, letting you bask in the drag of your walls along his swollen length. In his reflection, his were lips parted, chest working with broken breath. "So goddamn tight..."

"Fuck," you moaned, unbridled, his hands bruising your hips as he picked up the pace. "Yes—mm—Gods, yes—"

The power of his thrusts stole your breath, quaked your bones, your cries of pleasure hiccuped by the rapid strokes of his hips. Blaise was the most patient man you'd ever met, until he wasn't. He groaned, his eyes trained on your ass, skin smacking skin with loud slaps—you were captivated, unable to think or speak or do anything other than watch—fire stoked by the sheer eroticism of watching him fuck your pussy. A hard, vicious plunge—you shrieked, and you could see him smirk to himself before gracing your ass with a soft smack, piercing your cervix.

"Sexy little thing. All fucking mine." He wound your hair in his fist, popping your neck back to hunch over you. "You like that, hm? Watching yourself get fucked?"

You whimpered, neck aching with the force of his grip, nails digging into your palms as he drilled you. The switch in his demeanour was dizzying. His dick was hollowing you out, rending you wide—you could hardly focus on his words—

"Yes!" You managed. "Fuck—yes—"

He groaned, fucking faster—his gaze ravaged you, wandering over every inch of your reflection before stopping at your jiggling chest. His hand slipped down from your hair to grasp a breast—squeezing and kneading the soft flesh in his huge palm, his other hand snaking down around your thigh to swirl over your clit, and you choked—a noise wrenched from your lungs far louder than you'd have liked.

"Fuck—fuck—" his hips moved erratically. He was getting close. So were you. "Tight—squeeze me s'good—"

You whinged. He swirled his fingers faster. "Blaise—m'gonna—cum—"

It descended upon you—the promise of oblivion—as you found one breath, another breath, and then found yourself in the mirror, skin gleaming, expression wrought with pleasure, entire body shaking with the pistoning of your boyfriends hips.

His eyes were still on yours, reverence inside them, worship.

He grunted. "Yes—fuck, cum on my cock, baby—let me feel you—"

It was a command that shattered all thought, a primal cry of ecstasy that ripped through you, overtaking every nerve, every vein, every muscle in your body. Your limbs trembled, thighs shaking as the pleasure coursed through you, molten, burning under your skin. You were less than halfway cognizant of what was leaving your mouth—barely picking up on your boyfriends groans and moans in your ear as you squeezed and milked his cock through your climax, fucking you deep until he couldn't take it anymore and erupted as well—pouring his cum into you, rolling his hips until he was empty.

Swallowing hard, you collapsed onto the floor, your chest heaving as he pulled out, leaving you breathless and trembling. His hands, still warm from the heat of your skin, gently held your arm as he sank down beside you. Without a word, he tugged you against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing a calming rhythm against your back. His fingers threaded softly through your hair, untangling the remnants of tension as the two of you lay there, catching your breath.

After a few moments, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple, the touch so tender it made you melt all over again. You tilted your head to meet his gaze, a soft smile curving your lips, all the stress that had plagued you earlier dissipating into nothing.

"Maybe I should have bad days more often." You smiled through an exhale.

"If this is what it takes to fix them," he murmured with a smirk, his voice deep and gravelly from exertion, "then I'm more than willing to be your remedy, anytime."

You hummed, a huff of a laugh slipping out as you traced lazy shapes on his chest—inhaling his scent with each breath. You loved this man. Loved that he never failed to make you feel so goddamn beautiful, so special, so needed.

"Seriously though," you whispered after a while, your cheek pressed to his chest, "thank you. For this. For knowing exactly what I needed."

His fingers stilled in your hair, a quiet hum of understanding in his throat.

"I always know what you need, baby," he said, his voice soft, filled with something more than just desire, something warmer. "And I'll always be here to give it to you."

[ramp-it-up]

That Face

Summary: You get drunk and tell Bucky exactly what you want to do to that face.

Pairing: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 1.9 K

A/N: You can read this as a companion piece to Red Wings.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. More angst on the part of the reader. Sweet Bucky fluff. Jealousy, excessive drinking, intoxication, drunken confessions, face riding, fingering, extreme oral sex (f receiving) anal play, praise kink, allusion to anal sex. Not Beta’d. All errors my own. 

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I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Bucky was holding you close to him, and it should have been romantic, but it wasn’t.

You were shit faced, and practically falling down with every step.

“Careful Doll, I’m gonna have to carry you home.”

After just six months of dating, you’d moved in with him, your relationship barreling along with breakneck speed, but who wouldn’t fall in love with Bucky?

Who wasn’t still in love with Bucky?

You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, half a block from your brownstone.

“That sounds hot, Bucky, but I’m pissed…”

“Yeah, I know…”

“No, I’m mad.”

You stomped your foot and wobbled, until Bucky’s hands steadied you again. Bucky bent down and looked you in the eyes.

“You good, Doll?”

His sky blue eyes looked sincere, but jealousy and alcohol wouldn’t let you accept that.

“No! This was supposed to be our night to fuck and have a romantic dinner. You’ve been gone for three weeks. Three weeks, James!”

Bucky looked contrite, but then again there were four of him weaving in front of you right now, so you couldn’t be sure.

“Sorry, Baby. Didn’t know the guys would be in town. It’s my crew.”

“I can take your army buddies, but her. She’s a bitch!”

“Wow. Whoa whoa whoa. You know I don’t like anyone calling women bitches. Even you.”

Bucky straightened up and the stern look he gave you sent a thrill through you, but you weren’t done.

“She still wants you, Bucky. Sharon is a slut. And you always say you love when I’m a slut for your cock.”

Bucky looked around as you started crying and people walking by avoided the scene.

“I don’t want Sharon, Doll. I want you.”

Bucky looked down at you, eyes sparkling with amusement at your jealousy. Even his voice was smiling. It made you madder and you stumbled as you advanced on him, bucking up to the man who was a foot taller than you.

“Look at that fucking face.”

You reached up and took his chin between your fingers.

“No one gets to ride this dimple but me!”

This time Bucky didn’t care about who heard, you’d peaked his interest. His eyebrow shot up.

Even though drunk, you read his expression.

“Yep!”

You nodded and it threw you off balance, but luckily Bucky was there.

“Betcha didn’t know that I touch myself to the memories of the feeling of that chin between my legs. Did it the entire time you were gone. That cock is something else Bucky, but that face. I just want to ride it into the sunset….”

This was new information to Bucky. You seemed to love when he ate you out, but you were always hesitant to ride his face. He licked his lips as he thought of you pleasuring yourself to the thought of his face.

Then he grinned.

You read him again.

“Oh no! No no no. You think you got me. But you said you were mine…”

Bucky leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“I am yours, Doll.”

“So she can’t ride your face?”

Bucky slowly shook his head.

“No, only you.”

You sighed and sagged into his arm.

“Good, because I-“

And that was the last thing you remembered from that night.

You woke up the next morning, head pounding. You looked around, grateful to be in your bed. And grateful for your boyfriend, who’d left a bottle of water and some aspirin on the bedside table.

You could hear Bucky puttering around in the kitchen but you weren’t quite ready to eat.

You eagerly took the pills and drank the bottle down. Then, you turned on the shower as you brushed your teeth.

You reflected on the gathering at The Howling Commando, the neighborhood bar so familiar to you as you met Bucky’s friends. Which included Sharon Carter.

Bucky’s ex.

“Bucky’s just being nice, y’know?”

Steve tried to reassure you as she and Bucky caught up in the corner. You nodded back at Steve, but when Bucky smiled at Sharon was when you ordered your first shot of Jameson’s.

You showered as you tried to remember the rest of the night. But all you could remember was Bucky’s sweet face. You wrapped up in a towel and sat on the bed as you thought of how sweet Bucky was. He was so cute. That face.

That face.

“Shit!”

Your head fell into your hands as you remembered what happened the night before.

“What’s wrong, Doll?”

You looked up and your heart dropped.

Bucky was clad in only sleep pants and you could tell that there was nothing underneath.

You licked your lips, not bothering to hide your stare. Bucky came and sat down on the bed.

“See something you like, Doll?”

“Morning.”

“G’morning Sunshine..”

Bucky leaned down and kissed you on the cheek, chaste, despite the look in his eye. Your eyes fell to his lips. And lower.

Bucky licked his lips and rubbed his chin.

“You didn’t answer my question, Doll.”

Bucky’s mouth was an inch from yours. He reached for your towel and hooked his finger at the makeshift knot, causing his fingernail to brush your nipple.

“Don’t tease me Bucky…”

“I should say the same to you, Doll. You told me all the things you wanted to do to my face and then passed out.”

“James! I was drunk!”

“They say we are the most honest when we’re drunk.”

Bucky kissed you and then looked into your eyes.

“D’you believe that I don’t care about Sharon?”

You liked into his true blue eyes and you knew he wasn’t lying.

“I believe you. I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you too, Doll.”

You reached up and caressed his lips and chin.

“Gotta admit. This face is pretty irresistible.”

Bucky grinned and you leaned in for a kiss and climbed on his lap, grinding as he took your towel off.

“Been so long, Bucky.”

Bucky’s hands caressed you as he leaned back and let you have your way.

You made your way down his body, reacquainting yourself with his form with your lips, tongue, and fingers. He lifted his hips as you pulled down his pajama pants, lightly scratching his thighs on the way down.

“God I missed you so much, Doll. Spent all last night just waiting until we could get home. Wanted to lose myself in you.”

You had Bucky in your hand, sitting on his legs as you stroked his half-hard cock to full life.

“M’sorry Babe. How can I make it up to you?”

You looked up at him, ready to suck his soul out.

“Come up here and ride this irresistible face.”

You gasped as Bucky pulled you up his body until you were kneeling over him.

“There she is.”

Bucky’s fingers helped to separate your lips as he breathed hot breath into your cunt.

“So fucking wet for me.”

And then he went to work on licking into your tangy goodness.

“So good. Such a good girl for me. Such a good pussy.”

Bucky sat you down and suckled your clit, pulling on it like it was gum, stretching it and your soul out for the world (inside your bedroom) to see. He was kneading your breasts and pulling your nipples, serving to make you wetter and him messier.

But it was only just beginning as you started gyrating on his chin.

Bucky smacked your ass and pushed you over on your hands and knees again.

“That’s a girl. Bounce on my tongue.”

You did as you were told, feeling Bucky’s chin in your vagina each time you bounced on his tongue.

“Smear that shit all over my fuckin face Doll. You know you want to.”

Bucky took your ass in his hands and then started moving you back and forth on his face. You were overwhelmed with numerous sensations as his lips, tongue and chin, covered with short facial hair, destroyed your soul.

“Now sit up and fuck this face, Doll. Please. ”

You peered down at his bright blue eyes as his fingertips grazed your stomach. You obeyed him as you pulled his hair and took your throne, his thick, wide tongue spearing into you as you fucked his face.

His chin was now grazing your puckered hole, and you moaned as the scruffy dimpled part of him made you tremble.

“J-James…”

Bucky spread your cheeks and moved his tongue so that it could invade your inmost parts. He licked you from ass to clit and your legs started trembling.

You leaned back over and bounced in his tongue again, holding your breasts with one hand as you braced against the wall with the other.

Bucky’s hand snaked around to flick your clit as you gasped and fully sat on his face as his tongue speared into you, twisting and curling, not as all consuming as his cock, but reaching that special spot inside you nonetheless.

You gasped and sat back, hand on his sternum as you rolled your hips into his face.

“Oh. Ohhhh, oh Jamesssss.”

You whimpered, and your crying-like noises as you moved told him how it felt.

“So… fuck it feels so good…

You were grabbing his hair as he craned his neck upward to look at you.

Bucky growled into your cunt then lifted you upright again, his thumb slipping into your ass. This caused a gush of your fluids into his mouth and he started moaning.

“Mmmmmm. Mmhmmmm!”

“Oahhhh oh ahhh.”

Bucky was still breaching your ass as his tongue sped up impossibly and his lips suckled your clit intermittently.

“More… please!”

You were seeing stars as you reached back and pushed Bucky’s thumb in to the hilt.

Bucky moaned as you started bouncing again. His hand was fucking your ass as you rode his face.

“Please please please…”

“Hmmph… yesssss.”

Bucky spoke into your cunt as you started to reach your crescendo. He could taste your orgasm coming before it happened. Everything sped up.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!”

“Ummmmmm!”

Bucky was in heaven as you continued to gush into his mouth.

You came with a scream as Bucky lapped you all up.

“Unnnnh!”

Bucky pulsed precum on his stomach as you came on his face.

“Unh ahhhh.

“So pretty, Doll. Stay right here.”

Bucky kissed your lips as you quivered in front of him.

“Want this ass. Gonna give it to me?”

“Bucky…”

“She’s ready for me now.”

Bucky’s finger found that hole again.

“Gonna make you feel real good.”

You whimpered as Bucky spit on his fingers and manipulated two of them inside you.

He gave your clit a peck with his lips and you jumped.

“Nice and loose for me.”

You looked down on him adoringly and carded your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. He moaned.

“Please Doll. But only if you want that too. I need you. You’re my best girl. My good girl.”

You looked back, his cock jumping on his abs, sticky with his pre cum. You shuddered at his praise and at the thought of him inside that hole. But as Bucky probed and kissed you further, you knew you wanted it.

You didn’t need to look back down to know that Bucky was buried in your cunt again, bringing you to another peak. Instead, your head lolled back on your shoulders as you rode Bucky’s mouth again.

“Anything! Anything you want, Bucky…I want it too! Ah…”

You just couldn’t resist that face.

[the-californicationist]

Ok but imagine price being a dockworker and coming to the bar the reader is a server at after long days. Smelling like the salt on salt, chest hair peeking thru his shirt. She knows his exact order down to how much froth he wants on his beer and he just melts into his chair once he sees her on shift but their asses won’t even kiss yet (they wanna fuck diiiirty in between all the barrels out back tho)

Thank you so much for the ask!! I wish I got more of these <3 I love impromptu writings!! ^_^

MDNI

Somehow, you knew it was him by the sound of your door. The way that it creaked and popped, and the force with which it knocked the tinkling little bell at the top - all of these noises were the same, or at least they should have been, no matter who was coming or going from your bar. The way the metal bolt clicked out of the frame, the way the warped wood of the threshold whined and bent, the way that one pane of glass shuddered in the top left corner... it shouldn't have sounded different when he walked in. But, it did.

He sat in his seat, objectively the worst one in your bar. It was out of the line of sight from the television, and it was down at the fruit-filled service end, far from the keg taps. It was where you ran credit cards and kept your phone to take breaks, and you flattered yourself that the reason he sat there was to spend time with you.

John Price was a piece of work, that was for sure. He would come by right before close and linger. It was nice to have someone walk you to your car, especially on cold nights, since you were so close to the docks. He'd ride his old Triumph over from his work as a shipping and receiving foreman in the harbor, and he'd smell like sweat and the salt from the sea. His clothes would reek of tobacco from those fat cigars he'd always smoke, and you knew his beard would smell like it, too.

You wondered what it felt like, his beard. You wondered if it was as soft as it looked. You wondered what he would say if you asked him to give you a ride back to his place on that old, worn-out bike and lay you on his bed so he could kiss you from behind that beard all night. You wondered, over and over when you lay in your own sheets alone, what it would feel like for him to drag that rough-shaven chin over the swell of your breast. How would it feel on the insides of your thighs? Would it hurt you?

"You want the usual?" You asked him, trying your best to concentrate on shining the glass in your hand and not about having his body between your legs.

He smiled up at you and nodded,

"Sure, love. The usual."

As you poured his lager, keeping a little extra foam at the top, just how he liked it, you caught yourself staring again.

It was cold out, so he was in a thick coat, but he never had his collar buttoned up. There was always a bit of his chest on view for you through the drab plaid shirts he wore. He had a cut tonight, and you could see it soaking through the white of his undershirt.

"You okay, John?" You set his beer down and motioned to his gash.

"Oh," he chuckled warmly, "Yeah. Just got a little too close to the off-loader crane and paid for it. No harm, really."

"Let me clean it up for you. C'mon," you opened the bar's side door and lifted it so he could duck underneath, taking his beer with him and following you upstairs to your office.

Your barback would take care of the two other patrons you had. It was a Tuesday after midnight. You could close without any harm done.

As John wandered into your space, he noticed your makeshift cot in the corner.

"Surely you're not sleepin' at work, love?"

You laughed a little nervously,

"Don't tell the health inspector on me. Have a seat in that chair. Lemme get the first-aid kit."

He sat. Your heart pounded in your throat. As you dug around for the kit, you felt your nerves fraying. Maybe you liked John a little more than you thought.

"Here. Alright, can you show me the cut?"

You knelt in front of him so you could be in line with the wound. You tried to clean it, but his clothes were getting wet.

"Oh, sorry. Uh -"

"Here, love," he shucked his jacket off and peeled his shirt off from his back, leaving it around his arms, pinned in the sleeves, "That better?"

You nodded, feeling your breath catch in your throat.

He was huge. It was almost monstrous, the way his body bulged out around his bones, enormous snapping muscles rolling around his shoulders and neck, making him look like an animal. He was covered in soft, brown fur, and as you went to touch him, you made a grave mistake.

You hesitated.

Ever observant, you knew he caught you stumbling over him, frozen in place like a scared doe. But, mercifully, he said nothing, and allowed you to get to work.

Clean. Dry. Salve. Bandage. Smooth the edges. Make an excuse to do it again, once more to seal it down.

"There, all done. You have been a very brave patient," you smiled up at him and went to box up the supplies back in their little tin.

"You know," he purred, "Brave patients usually get some sort of prize."

You laughed softly,

"Fresh out of lollies and peppermints, I'm afraid."

"Sure there isn't anything else you'd offer me to suck on, love?"

His voice was low, dark, and deep. It crawled to you on its belly from the bottom of the sea, from the pressures and the cold, black hell of the fathoms of the water, lapping at the sides of your boat, threatening to sink you. He looked at you like a tiger shark studies a diver, with a chilling curiosity from the mighty to the fragile, wondering what you taste like and deciding if he'll bite.

John's arms were still bound by his clothes. If you wanted to flee, you would've had plenty of head-start. But, you didn't. You were moving outside of your own volition. It was as if you were dreaming, watching yourself be piloted by an unknown force. You stared him down and stood, stepping right between his knees, forcing him to look up at you and wait for your reply.

You peeled off your white tee shirt, revealing your bare breasts to him. Going bra-less meant usually meant more tips, but tonight you weren't concerned about the money. You wanted him to praise you. You wanted to call his bluff. You wanted him to fuck you on the stack of kegs in the corner of your office and let the sharp metal rims dig into your belly as he stuffed his cock into you from behind.

His shirts were gone from his arms in a second, and he leaned forward just enough to put his face to your breast, letting you feel the heat of his breath on your skin, sighing into you. John held your eyes captive in his the whole time, as if he may look away and break the spell. Then, he watched you watch him take your nipple into his mouth, suckling on it as gently as he possibly could, as gently as anyone had ever done.

You trembled, letting go of a breath you'd been holding, looking down at him as he sucked your flesh between his wet lips. You were right about the smell of the tobacco.

[funeralpartyclown]

dale has got to have insane kinks…… like this man is going to want to have cameras on you and shove random shit up you and make you say weird stuff to him . I LOVE HIM I CANT

SO TRUE…

Sorry if this is too much for you guys im just writing anything I think of 😭 pls lmk if it gets to be too much,,

I think he would be into a lot of worse stuff. Blood, knife play, bondage (unsafe probably) corruption, marking you up, age gaps (LEGALLY. Not that kinda freaky)

Cameras for sure, he’d love that. Pull your hair and force you to look right at it while he rams into you from behind. The way it makes it feel so much dirtier, his own personal pornstar. He’d watch them over CONSTANTLY and make you watch too while whispering filthy things into your ear.

Random stuff in you, I can see that. I imagine him having very few limits,, as much as I do love him. You cannot look at a picture of him and go yeah that’s a regular guy. He is into anything and everything fucked up and weird. If you’d let him do that he’d abuse the opportunity and just see what he can fit up there for fun and you’re probably ending up injured or with an infection to be honest..

Making you say weird stuff,, I can see too but it would probably be realll fucked up with him. He knows exactly how to make you uncomfortable and what gets you flustered and hes forcing you to repeat the nastiest things he can think of just to watch your face flush in red, stumbling with your words.

I think he’d really enjoy wax play too and he had plenty of candles. Idk if this is true because I wasn’t paying attention to it but I’ve seen people say the gun Lee has at the end of the movie isn’t hers, and was probably dales. Gun play…. With Dale… cold metal being slowly dragged across your skin. Loaded pressed to your temple safety off. Fucking you with the barrel, finger on the trigger, better sit still for him.

Size difference for sure, which is great for him because hes huge. The one shot of him and Lee from the side in the interrogation room where hes slouching and his legs are bent but hes still SO much larger than her? I need him to lay on top of me and suffocate me.

I think he’d enjoy making his partner cry (only during anything sexual) just watching you squirm and beg incoherently with tears running down your face, listening to your voice crack.

Marking up for sure, especially if afterwards he can make up an excuse to drag you out in public and show it off. In most longlegs fanfics it takes place in a small middle of nowhere town, he’d love risking your friends and family having to see you not only with him but covered in a painting of bruises and indents. No shame no restraint no respect for others comfort or social norms. He’s being awful in public, and with most of the fandom from what I’ve seen being like early 20s-30s the age gap would be VERY visible.

One sweeter thing I think he’d especially enjoy, have you in top for specific reasons. He’d be used to the treatment he gets from most people by now and have a hard time believing you actually want him, he needs a lot of reassurance. Esp if you initiate things, having you on top would have him in tears. Facing him, nails digging into his clothes, hot breath on his neck, repeatedly making the effort to bring him closer to you. Every sweet second you spend moving on top of him is just more confirmation to him that you want and need him.

Non-sexual but, I think he’d really like to do things for you as well. Having you need him, reaching things off a shelf, opening containers, lifting something heavy.

Bdsm, bondage, whips, paddles, restraints, all of it anything you ask hes okay with trying. If you’re really vanilla, good luck I don’t see him being able to adhere to that. If you reciprocate his feelings it will take very little time for him to feel serious about your relationship and he looks at you almost like his property, though that extends both ways. He’s just assuming you’re okay with whatever he wants, because he’d do the same for you. I think at first he’d ask if you’re okay with it before trying something but eventually he just does what he wants and waits for your reaction.

[squintyeyedjoel]

Look For The Light | (Joel x Reader) - Coming Soon!

Synopsis: When Joel and Ellie are on their way to find the Fireflies, they stumble across something else in an abandoned farmhouse. Something unexpected and life changing - you. ….and the three year old toddler you rescued three days ago that happens to harbor something familiar Joel has a hard time reconciling with.

(Sneak peek below the cut!)

Suddenly the handle on the door to your room jiggled, making the breath stutter in your chest.

The low voice on the other side of the wooden barrier made you jump. “I’ll give you to the count of three, otherwise I’m breakin’ this thing down.”

You gulped.

“One.”

Silence.

“Two.”

A beat more.

“Three.”

Suddenly the door swung open, the latch busting into pieces and skittering across the floor as the hulking frame of a man barreled through shoulder first. Just behind him you saw a teenaged girl peeking in curiously from the top of the steps.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, offering a timid smile. “I’d have met you at the door, but,” you looked down toward the bundle in your arms, the smile turning more genuine. “My hands are full.”

“Holy fucking shit,” the teenager mumbled, before trying to make her way around the grumpy looking man. He caught her by her backpack, not allowing her any closer, to which she turned a skeptical look his way. “Really, Joel? It’s a baby. What’s it gonna do, drool me to death?”

You snorted a laugh, arching an eyebrow at the man- Joel’s unimpressed look your way.

“It’s a toddler. They’d scream your ear off b’fore they’d drool-” He stopped when he glanced from the tiny human in your arms who looked up at him with wide, curious eyes, and focused back on the teen, finding her already looking at him with raised brows.

After a moment he released her with a sigh, and she took a few tentative steps your way, wide grin climbing up her face.

“How would you know, anyway?” She teased the man without sparing him a glance.

The look he shot at the back of the girl's head made you want to grin, but you successfully tucked it into the top of the little human’s head in your lap.

“I’m older ‘an you. Been ‘round the block a few times, is all. Know a thing or two.” His voice was a rumbling grouse, the dry tone exasperated and saying he’d been here a time or two before, this argument worn and thin.

“Yeah, because you’re ancient,” she mocked.

“Ain’t that old,” he grumbled.

“Dirt is younger, Joel.”

“Not worried I’m infected?” You kept your voice calm, not wanting to poke the angry bear known as Joel.

The girl smiled in a way that said she had more to say than what she was telling as she knelt next to you. “No. Not really.”

“Ellie,” Joel groaned, taking a step closer as the teen sat next to you, her shoulder lightly bumping against your own as her back pressed against the wall.

“I’m not, by the way,” you looked between them both. “Infected.” Looking down to the toddler in your arms, snorting as she tried to hide further into your threadbare shirt, you couldn’t help but smile softly. “Neither is she.”

“What’s her name?” Ellie reached out a finger for the little one to hold. It was taken tentatively, and given a firm shake like she had seen countless adults do around her in the QZ you’d been in before.

It made Joel snort out a laugh through his nose.

“Sarah.”

The laugh turned into a choking sound, quickly melting into a coughing fit as Joel bent over at his waist, bracing his hands on his knees as he fought for air.

“You okay, old man?”

You tried to stifle the smile Ellie’s comment brought to your face before you turned your gaze back up to Joel once again.

After a long moment, he stood up straight with a huff. “Fine.” Another long pause. “Just swallowed wrong.”

Wanna be tagged if/when I write any future Joel stuff? Here’s how to sign up!

[peacefulwriting]

A Christmas Wish

For years, you were used to Jake being gone for some holidays, including Christmas. His job had him gone for countless holidays and sadly, it was nothing new to you and you'd be able to handle it. When you started a family, that had all changed.

You and Jake got extremely lucky and he didn't have to leave for any deployments for a few years but that had all changed in a matter of time.

Your son had just turned 5 and you little girl was 2. Your son was old to know and remember why daddy wasn't around for the holidays, but your daughter didn't know much. You got lucky and he was gone for the spring and summer holidays and home for the ones that mattered the most.

Jake left in late October for his temporary deployment. It was only supposed to be for a little over a month, but the news came barreling down on you at the begging of December that it was going to be longer and that he should be expected to be home after the new year.

"I hate this, I know it's your career and you can't help it, but I hate this, Jake." You choked back tears. " Your kids miss you. I miss you."

"I am so sorry, honey. It breaks my heart that I'm not there. I miss you all so much."

Jake hated it as much as you did. He hated knowing that he was missing being able to go visit Santa with the kids and go look at Christmas lights while drinking hot coco. He hated being stuck on a ship with nothing but the ocean skyline in the distance.

You had to be strong for your kids and not have them see you break down. You had to still go and do everyday life with them, including going and doing Christmas things, without Jake, so that it seemed somewhat normal, even though, none of this was normal.

So, that's what you did.

You would load them into the car and go grocery shopping, Christmas shopping, going to see Santa, and Christmas lights and Ice skating, all of the things. You had to take pictures and videos for Jake and man did that break your heart.

You never thought you'd be the one to breaking down crying in the middle of a store when your son pointed to something that reminded you of Jake.

"Mama, look! It's a plane like daddy's!"

He pointed to an F18 ornament and your heart dropped while tears started to brim the edges of your eyes. You bent down, gracefully holding the ornament in your hands. Tears were spilling out of your eyes as your turned towards your son.

"Can we get it for daddy, mama?"

"I think he'd like that, baby."

You shook your head as your song grabbed the ornament and gained the biggest smile on his face. He held it so close to him throughout the whole store and all the way home. It was his little plane just like daddy's.

You got everything in the house, laid your daughter down for a nap, and took a rest, and when you looked over into the living room, you saw your son looking at the Christmas tree that uncle Rooster helped put up. He had the plane in his hand and you knew he was contemplating on wether he wanted to put it up or keep it close.

"What are you thinking, baby?"

You bent down, hugging him to your side, looking at him. He just stared right ahead at the Christmas tree and the lights.

"Will daddy be home for Christmas?"

You sighed, your heart breaking all over again. You couldn't lie to your son but you didn't want to ruin anything for him, so you did your best by sugar coating it with a little Christmas story.

You sat down on the floor and your son turned to look at you, still with that innocent smile on his face.

"You know how Santa has to work on Christmas so that all the children can get their gifts and treats?" You asked, and he shook his yes, "that's kinda like daddy's job. He he gets to fly to all these places so that he can help us and provide things for us when we need them."

"Daddy's like Santa!" He shouted with a big smile on his face.

"Yeah," you said, tears threaten to spill out again, "and that means that daddy might have to work on Christmas, like Santa, so that we can get what we need and want."

"Does daddy and Santa work together then?" He asked, so innocently.

You had to blink up so that tears wouldn't come out in front of your son. You composed yourself and looked back at him.

"I think so, baby. They are both working super hard to make sure everyone gets what they need."

You son smiled, walking to the tree and putting the F18 ornament on the tree. "Mama, if I'm really nice and ask Santa to let daddy not work on Christmas, do you think he'll get me that?"

Your heart shattered.

"Maybe if you're extra nice, baby."

Your son jumped up and down, giggling. You sat there watching him with his excitement and you had tears welling in your eyes that were slowly dripping out.

You cleaned yourself up, heading for the kitchen to make dinner for the kiddos. You silently hoped the night would go by quick, more so, the whole month of December.

"Our son thinks he if he's really nice for Santa that you'll come home."

You snapped. You know this wasn't Jake's fault, nor yours, nor your sons. He was hopeful and full of dreams while this was breaking you. The only time Jake could FaceTime you was late at night due to the time zone.

"Our little boy, full of hopes and dreams," Jake whispered, you watched through the phone as tears were coming out of his eyes. "I want that so badly, for you and the kids."

"You have no idea."

As the days passed and Christmas grew closer, you felt more and more sadness. You were loosing sleep making sure everything was wrapped and Christmas dinner was bought, and watching your son remain hopeful that Jake was coming home. You were exhausted.

Christmas Eve approached and no sign of Jake coming home. You wanted to scream and cry knowing that when you'll wake up that Jake wasn't going to be here and how sad your kids were going to be.

You finished up cleaning up the kids, laying your daughter down before your son, partly, because you know he's going to ask a thousand questions as to where daddy was.

You gave your daughter a kiss on the forehead as she cooed. You turned on the rain machine and shut the lights off and walked into your sons room.

You walked over to him as he was slipping under the covers. You grabbed the corners of them and pulled them up on his body. He pulled his arms out from under the blanket and turned on his side, looking at you.

"I think I was really nice for Santa."

"You were very nice, yes. I'm proud of you."

"I asked Santa to bring daddy home since I was so nice."

"I hope that Santa is able to give you that gift." You leaned down and kissed him on his forehead. "Goodnight, baby. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, mama."

You shut off the lights and to your bedroom. You shut the door, sighing. You didn't have anymore energy to cry, just felt empty. You knew that Christmas was going to be extremely hard and you just wish things were different. You swallowed, shutting off the lights and slipped into bed, drifting off to sleep.

"MAMA! IT'S CHRISTMAS! WAKE UP!"

You woke up to your son jumping on you and laughing. You blinked your eyes open and looked at your son, smiling. You grabbed him and pulled him in for a big hug.

"Merry Christmas, baby. Why don't we go grab your sister and see what Santa brought you?"

He shook his head with the biggest smile and jumped off the bed. You walked into your daughters room and she was already awake, just standing in her crib. You smiled, grabbing her from her crib. You gave her a kiss on the forehead.

When all of you approached the staircase, you heard the backdoor opening and jinglebells jingling. Your heart began to race as your son looked up at you with a big smile on his face. He took off down the stairs.

No, there's no way, you thought. Jake wasn't due to be home for another few weeks.

You began to take a few steps down the stairs when you heard your son gasp. Flight and fight mode activated but when the next word came out of his mouth, you felt your heart flutter.

"DADDY!"

You began to rush down the stairs with your daughter in your arms, trying to hide a smile, and once you rounded, your eyes locked with Jake's.

"I was right, mama!"

Jake laughed, giving your son a kiss on the forehead. He looked at him again and released him and your son went flying past you to the presents. Jake began to walk towards you with a big smile on his face.

"Is this real?" You whispered. "Are you really here?"

Jake stopped in front of you, grabbing your face and pulling you in for a kiss. You pulled back and placed your head into his chest, laughing. You heard him give your daughter a kiss.

"I'm home, darling."

You lifted your head, looking into his green eyes. He grabbed you by your waist, pulling you into him and placing the soft kiss on your lips. You stayed there, taking it all in and embracing your husband. You just wanted to stay in this moment forever.....

"MAMA! DADDY! COME ON!"

You and Jake pulled apart, looking at each other, laughing. He took your hand in his and you walked over to the couch, and sat down. You set your daughter on your lap and you gave your son the okay to open his presents.

You were so thankful and happy that Jake was home, able to spend Christmas with your and the kids.

A Christmas Miracle.

[ladylooch]

Bones - Part 5 - [Mack x David]

A/N: I want to say big, huge thank you to @wardlow and @casualhilarity for being so supportive and kind when I asked them if they would read the first 5 chapters of the series for me. I was really struggling on if this was good, flowing, made sense etc. Both of you showed up for me, even though you're so busy, and gave great feedback! I love you soooo much! A million forehead smooches to you! I could not have gotten through these first few parts without you both 💜

& I have to shout out my favorite little sister, @missjomarch. Part of this angst was your idea in the making. You little writer you 😘 I love you! Thank you for dreaming about these two with me.

Okay, now, without further ado.... let's get into it 🔥

Word Count: 5.0k

Silence.

Not even the hum of the refrigerator or a chirping bird to break it. It’s too heavy, blanketed in fresh snow and the stillness of the morning after a big storm. 

Inside her family’s cabin, Mack slowly brings a cup of fresh, hot coffee to her lips. She stares out the window, ignoring her blurry reflection in the glass. The pines are practically bent in half from all the snow the area has seen this winter. Normally, she may have been hesitant about driving into the Alps alone in these conditions, but nothing about now is normal. 

Mack shakes her head, trying not to think about the circumstances that brought her here. Or how she walked into JFK three days ago with a ticket bound for Ireland, but didn’t get on that plane. Instead she transferred it to a one way ticket to Zurich then rented a car to get up here without disturbing her parents. Although with the security cameras on the cabin, they know she is here. 

Everything okay? Her mom had texted her.

Yeah. Just need a break and some solitude. 

Okay. Love you 😘 

One corner of the blanket across her shoulders falls down to her elbow. Mack grabs it, putting it back into place and curling more into herself. Nothing about the cabin is cold. It’s modern and fancy with high end heating elements, but it is no match for the chill of a broken heart. 

A lump forms in Mack’s throat.

What the hell did she do?

She should call him. She should apologize immediately, but her limbs and fingers won’t move. They won’t grab the phone to her left and press his name to ring across the world. The muscles of her face can’t possibly move her mouth, and her brain is blank for the words she should say to him. 

But Mack knows exactly what happened, an 8 hour plane ride helped her quickly realize it.

She got scared. Plain and simple.

It was too good. All of it. To the point that the darkness in the corners of her brain lured her into the comforting old habit of being the one who cares less. Her deep seeded beliefs that she doesn’t need anyone to live on this earth. Survival depends on your ability to exist alone and she could feel herself depending on him.

She broke all of her rules for him- she dated him, fell in love with him, spent weeks on his farm, turned down assignments. Then the trade rumors swirled and he acted like they didn’t exist when her whole world was turned upside down with the what ifs. What if he left New York? What would she do? But David's silence made it seem so simple. She would go with him. And when it came to the next steps he was starting to talk about, and want, Mack couldn’t do it. She liked the way things were and him wanting more is a need Mack doesn’t believe she can provide for him.

Because he deserves so much better than this. Wasn’t that what she was trying to show him by leaving? Look at how much better your life is when I’m not in it. Simple. No one running across the world, chasing after who knows what. He deserved someone who would follow him anywhere and put roots down. That’s not her.

It can’t be her. 

But when he came barreling into his apartment, looking at her like she was shredding his hearts to pieces, she almost faltered. She almost stayed. And that reaction scared her more than anything else did. It was a blimp, but she could see herself in Seattle or fucking Dallas. For him. But what is in those cities for her? Is that who she is now? 

No. 

No matter how much she loves him, she can’t do it this way.

Mack jolts up from the chair, shaking away these thoughts. She is done with this merry-go-round of nothing. She has work to do.

Later in the morning, Mack is deep in rewriting her next piece for the magazine when a loud pop jolts her away from her computer screen. She smacks her ankle on the leg of the table, yowling out in pain. Then she whips her head towards the front door where the sound came from. She glares in frustration until the reality of how alone she really is out here settles in. What was that? She gets up, tiptoeing over towards the door with her blanket flowing like a cape behind her. She looks out at the U shaped drive way, seeing her dad pulling out a Louis Vuitton duffle bag from his shiny Mercedes. 

Mack’s grip on the blanket tightens.

Her mom did not believe her. If she did, she wouldn’t have sent in the big guns.

Mack sighs, then unlocks the door, opening it for her dad as he steps on the porch.

“Mom sent me.” He shrugs then greets her with a hug. “But also I wanted to come. Lucie called.”

Lucie. Fuck. In Mack’s haste to leave New York, and David, she didn’t think about her older sister. David must have told her. Guilt pierces her thoughts again. Lucie is going to be so angry with her. Connor too. This is why she should have never started down this road to begin with.

“Oh.” Mack responds blankly to her dad.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Her dad assures her. Mack nods in agreement, looking down as a sting fills her eyes. 

Nico walks into the cabin behind her, setting his duffle bag on the couch. Mack touches two fingers to the corners of her eyes, collecting the wetness there discreetly.

“Um, there is still coffee in the carafe over there.”

“No, thanks. I got some on the drive up.”

Mack nods, then pads over to the chair in the living room. Her dad takes the couch, stretching out his long legs onto the coffee table. He crosses his feet at his ankles, then laces his fingers at the back of his head. 

“How is work?” Mack shrugs. Probably not good considering she didn’t get onto the flight she agreed to be on. She did text Sonja that a family emergency was calling her home to Switzerland and received an instant response for her to take all the time she needed. “Lucie seemed to think you were going to Ireland?”

“I was.” Mack acknowledges. She reaches up to her nose, scratching a non-existent itch to avoid his gaze.

“Ah, she is a true Swiss girl. She traded luck for snow.” He chuckles. Mack smiles at his corny attempt to make her laugh, then curls her legs tighter up onto the chair. She swallows hard, looking at the fireplace embers blackened from last night's fire.

“I just… couldn’t go.” She whispers. Her bottom lip is scraped into her mouth by her top teeth before she sighs. She meets his patient gaze again. “What did Lucie tell you?” Mack asks. His arms cross over his chest.

“That you left for Ireland on an assignment after breaking things off with David.” Mack drops her gaze back to the cream carpet. “Is that true?” Mack nods. “I’m sorry, sweets.” He murmurs. “Will you tell me what happened?”

Shame fills Mack’s throat as she assumes her dad means ‘what did David do?' Because nothing. All he did was fall in love with a scared and timid woman, who ran at the first real sign of trouble. How can she tell her dad the truth? How could he not be extremely disappointed in her?

“I fucked up.” She chokes through a sob. Her bottom lip trembles like the breath she sucks in. This admission surprises her as much as her father who raises his thick eyebrows. She begins to pant heavily, trying to suck in big breaths to stop crying. “He is perfect and I am a mess.” 

“Mack, you are the furthest thing from a mess.” He assures her. He opens his right arm out towards the empty couch cushion next to him. Mack gets up and folds herself into his body, sighing into his chest as more tears fall down her face.

“He’s never going to forgive me for this. He shouldn’t. I deserve whatever happens after this.” Mack closes her eyes, letting herself be comforted by her dad’s hands wrapping around her back. She sniffs. “I got scared. It all felt so good. So perfect. And this monster inside of me flipped the table when rumors started about him being traded. He never told me anything about them, but kept like making plans for us and this wasn’t supposed to be anything like what it was. We were just supposed to…” She trails off. 

“Hang out?” Her dad fills in. 

“Yeah.” 

“Baby, nothing about what mama and I saw when we were in New York was hanging out.” He rubs her back comfortingly. “You are in love with each other. I can’t imagine that all could have blown up in a few weeks, or because of some rumors.”

“No, it didn’t.” She shakes her head. “I wrapped dynamite around it and blew it up instead because I don’t know how to be in love like that. And I don’t think I wanna be.” 

“You don’t want to be with someone who loves you? Mack?”

Mack pauses, then pulls away to look at his face.

“What?”

“You don’t know how to be in love like that, so you blew it up because you don’t want to be in love?” He rephrases. Mack still looks confused. Is her reasoning that wild or does she not understand what he is saying? “Did you talk to David about any of this before you strapped the dynamite to it?” 

“No.” She shakes her head. Bigger tears fill her eyes. “Why do you make it sound so simple?”

“Because I’ve been in love with your mom for almost 30 years. I’ve had some practice.” He removes a slice of hair from her wet cheek. “Don’t beat yourself up. You’ll figure out more of this as you go through life with him.” Mack’s bottom lip wobbles.

“No. He’s… never going to forgive me. You didn’t see his face. He tried to talk to me. He tried to save us and I wouldn’t let him.”

“Sweets, this all comes down to a simple conversation. Get on the same page. If you don’t want to move if he gets traded, say that. Or if you want to go with him, say that. Give him the opportunity to meet you where you are, so you can grow together into the next stage.”

“He deserves better than someone who is unsure.”

“You don’t get to decide that for him.” His reminder is gentle but deeply true. “He does.” Mack nods, looking down at where her tears have splotched into his gray sweatshirt. “You do get to decide for yourself if this is what you need though. It’s okay if he is perfect, and loves you the way that you deserve, and you still don’t want it right now.” Mack starts to cry again, shaking her head no.

“No I really, really, really want it. I love him and all I did was hurt us both.”

Nico pulls her back into his chest again becoming the safe space she needs to feel everything catch up with her. It’s long, painful sobs that threaten the collapse of her chest. When her tears dry on her cheeks, and her body stops quivering from emotion, her and Nico sit in the same silence that was here before he arrived. Light snow begins to fall outside again and they both watch the flakes settle into the white ground from their perch. 

The only thing Mack can think about is how badly she wishes David was the one holding her right now.

Mack sniffs, wiping at her nose with her thumb.

“I’m going to go back.” She nods. “Face whatever is waiting for me there.” 

If she doesn’t try to fix this, she’ll never have him again. She owes it to herself, and to him, to try.

“I like that choice.” Her dad smiles gently, squeezing her tighter to his chest for a moment. It’s almost like he is trying to imprint this moment into his skin. “Maybe we could go back home though? Spend some time with mama? I know she would love to get her hands on you too.”

Mack smiles through her leftover tears and nods. 

Going home is exactly what she needs.

- - - & - - -

Back in New York 10 days later, Mack sits on the familiar espresso brown couch in David’s living room. The leather is cool beneath her leggings as falling snow drifts down in icy, zigzag swirls through the black night.

20 minutes.

In 20 minutes, David should walk through that apartment door.

Butterflies dive in Mack’s stomach, threatening to send her to the bathroom to spill the contents of her light dinner. She ate a salad from the market down the street, but half of it is discarded in the kitchen trash. Every time she started to chew the limp greens, her mouth filled with saliva while her stomach twisted painfully. She can’t remember a time she was this nervous, especially about David.

Mack brings her hands up to her hair, collecting the long brown strands into a pony tail at the top of her head. She sighs heavily, checking her phone again. Only a minute has passed. She calculates the exact timing she thinks she can expect David from the airport. The team has been on a road trip since right after she fled the city. His plane already touched down from what Mack could track off the itinerary he had forwarded to her before their demise. 

Her arrival in New York is planned, though later than she really wanted it to be. David left not long after she did for a road trip. The thought of returning home and him not being here made it too painful. So Mack hung around Switzerland with her parents. She visited Sophie at school, who clearly knew not to ask about David. She drank way too much German beer and ate too many baked goods. In the midst of all that, she thought about David the entire time. During those long days, Mack had held her phone in her hand so many times to call him, but each time doubt had her closing out the phone app before she could, especially when he never called her. Silly of her to expect that, she knows, but it felt like more confirmation of her consequences.

Mack inhales nervously when she hears the key in the lock. She looks towards the door, watching the lock flip, then the door handle turn. She stays sitting cross legged on the couch as he opens the door. He walks in wearing black dress pants and coat, a white shirt and a dark gray tie loosened from around his throat. He wheels in his black, hard cover luggage with his duffle bag on top.

He is looking down at his hand where he juggles his keys, wallet and phone. The phone screen has lit up against his fingers and she can see it’s the same picture of them from Christmas morning a few weeks ago. She is silent as he walks over to the bowl on the skinny entry room table that collects his things. There, he sees her purse resting too. Next to it, he finds her corn cob key chain in the bowl. He stares at it, then looks over his shoulder to where she is on the couch. 

Tears blur him as her throat swells with a lump. She practiced this moment at least fifty times on the long plane ride over here. But now that he is in front of her, Mack can’t find the will to speak. He looks tired and worn out- exhausted even- as his green eyes soak her in like dry land after a steady rain. And the words that Mack came up with on the plane don’t seem like enough. There is nothing she can say to him to make up for what she’s done to them. 

“Hi baby.” He greets her tenderly. 

“Oh.” She croaks out.

Mack covers her face with her hands and collapses forward, immediately sobbing. She hears the clattering of items into porcelain and the roll of a bag being placed off to the side. Then she feels the big hands of her man wrap around her body. They lift her easily into his lap as David settles himself into the couch cushion behind him. One hand is wrapped around her hips, pressing her into him while the other cradles her head to his chest.

“I’m so sorry.” She sobs. 

“It’s okay.” 

“It’s not okay!!!” She wails. 

“It is. Because you’re here now. You came home to me. Nothing else matters.” Mack fists the lapels of his coat, breathing him in, letting him take over her senses. She has been back in New York for hours, but now she is home.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers again, shaking in his embrace from both remorse and relief.

"I know. You got scared."

“Damn it, don’t be so understanding.” He’s totally already forgiven her. Mack can feel it in his touch that the second he saw her it was all resolved. 

"We're okay, honey.” Mack winds her fingers up his chest to his neck, tangling in the hair at the base. David turns, kissing her forehead. Mack focuses on his lips plumped on her skin, willing herself to say some of the words she thought of on the plane.

“You’re right. I was really scared and I freaked out.” She inhales deeply, trying to stop the croaking of her voice so she can speak clearly. “I should have told you that. You would have understood.”

“Yeah.” He acknowledges then grabs her chin so her face is primed for him to kiss. It’s achingly beautiful and brimmed with love. Their greedy lips soak up the taste of their lovers without the desire to pull apart for air. Mack’s tongue laps at David’s as she hoists herself closer to him. His palms press harder into her until not even lint could slide between their bodies. When they pull apart, David groans in relief.

“I went home.” Mack blurts, suddenly finding her voice. 

“I know. Lucie told me.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t.” His lips purse and he laughs a bit.

“I knew you wouldn’t. You were long gone the second that door shut behind you.” 

“I-"

“Baby, we can talk in the morning, but I am dead tired right now. Just come to bed with me.”

Mack would do anything he asked of her right now, as long as they are doing it together.

In bed, after stripping naked and collapsing into each other’s arms, David’s hands run down her back to her ass. He pulls her flush with him then uses her cheeks to raise her left breast to his lips. He sucks her deep into his mouth as a few fingers slide against her entrance from behind. 

Too tired to talk, but never too tired to make love to her. 

His lips work them both up into a state of arousal that needs to be cured. Between their bodies, Mack reaches for his thick cock, rubbing it through her slit as he continues to play with her nipples- one in his mouth and the other pinched by two fingers. 

“Mmm.” She grunts, then bites her lip as she pushes just his swollen head inside of her. David breaks away, needing to see her face as she fills herself with him. 

“Perfect.” He compliments her quietly as she takes him without resistance. “My perfect fucking girl.” He nips at her breast, then maneuvers himself into place. His hips give her slow, deep thrusts. 

His mouth collects her moans as he makes her come undone on his cock, like it’s like the first time all over again.

He spills into her greedily, marking her neck when he does.

Then they fall asleep curled deeper into each other than they’ve ever been before.

- - - & - - -

The next morning, a car alarm jolts Mack and David awake at the same time. David squeezes Mack tighter to him, lifting his head to pinpoint the noise. When he registers the alarm, he loosens his grip. Mack slowly opens her eyes, glancing up at him. All she can see is the underside of his chin. She runs her eyes along the waves of his growing out stubble, then tilts up to kiss along a particularly swirly patch. David hums beneath her lips. It isn’t long before David’s fingers running along her back have her falling back to sleep. When she wakes again, David is gone but the sounds of him rummaging in the kitchen float into the bedroom.

Mack pads out to join him after doing her morning routine of skin care and brushing her teeth. She stretches her arms above her head, swaying left and right to force the stretch further down her back. David looks over his shoulder, smiling at her. Mack bites her lip, taking in the deep groves of his muscular shoulders as his arms filter through his pantry. 

“We should talk.” Mack murmurs, tucking her hair behind her ear. She puts her forearms on the counter, folding her hands together.

“About what?” He asks, taking out a box of pre-made mix for waffles or pancakes. Mack stills. Is he serious?

“About me… leaving.”

“You’re back though?” He scratches at his nose, flipping the box to the back and reading the directions. “Do I have eggs?” He murmurs to himself, moving towards the fridge. He pops the doors open. “I do.” He grins back at her, wiggling his eyebrows. “Do you want waffles or pancakes?”

Mack sucks her cheeks in as he begins to bring out bowls, a whisk and measuring cups. With intention, she pushes off from the counter and comes to intercept him before he can get to the fridge for water. 

“What?” He chuckles as she weaves her arms around his waist.

“I don’t want waffles or pancakes. I want us to talk about me leaving.” David stills, eyes finding hers and tracing the brown irises. 

“Okay.” He sets the measuring cups behind her on the counter. His hands collect on her lower back and he waits expectantly. 

“I feel like you don’t want to?”

“No, not really. It’s over, ya know? You’re here.”

“Right but…” Mack trails off, staring at him, trying to find the words. She inhales to start, then stops again, clearing her throat. “I left you…” Surprisingly, David chuckles genuinely.

“Baby, you ran away from a lot of things, but you came back for me.” She stares at him. “Right?” Mack nods. “Then, again, I don’t know what else we have to talk about here.”

“I’m scared if we don’t talk more about this that it’s going to leave a big crack in our foundation.” She shakes her head slightly, looking away. 

“If you’ve got things you feel you need to say to me, go ahead. I just want you to know, before you even start, that from my perspective, everything is okay. Now and in the future.” Mack pauses, considering, then she nervously chews on her bottom lip. She swallows hard, tilting her head down to look at the hairs in the middle of his chest. He trimmed them recently, probably right after she left. She brings a hand up, stroking his pecs.

“I got scared.” She mumbles then forces her teeth into her bottom lip again to stop from crying. “I got scared that some organization’s decision could wreck my whole life. I still don’t think I’m cut out for relationships, but I love you so much, it’s like there is nothing I wouldn’t try for you. That scared me too. That I want to be here in New York. That I don’t want to go on long assignments that take me away from here for weeks at a time. That I feel this pull to come home when New York was never supposed to be home for me.” 

“You’ve changed everything for me.” She continues. “Not because you asked for it to change or forced me into anything. It’s just happened. And I woke up a few weeks ago with all this news and chatter and you wouldn’t talk to me and…” He brushes his thumbs under her eyes to collect her tears. “That wasn’t wrong of you, but suddenly I was thinking about moving to Dallas with you. And getting a place together because that makes more sense than having two places, if I was going to move to another state with you. And do they have an international airport close by? Or do I have to do multiple flights and it was too much. My life no longer was mine. It was completely consumed by someone else.” 

David says nothing, but his eyebrows pull tight together. His hands grip her hips harder, pulling her in more so they’re completely pressed together.

“I was in fight or flight. And I told myself that you deserved so much better than this. So much better than someone who had one foot out the door the first time something goes wrong. So the old habits that die hard, hit harder than ever before, and I was packing my bag the second you left for lunch with Connor. I felt like I was drowning and exploding all at the same time. I couldn’t stop the spiral to think about who that person was that had filled my life up. Or rationalize with myself about how lonely and unhappy I was before you. You have changed everything, but it’s been for the better.” She closes her eyes, letting the tears stream down for him to catch again. 

“When you came home while I was packing…” She shudders, trying not to sob. “I anticipated you would do so many things, but not that you would tell me to go. It was like I wanted you to tell me to stay, but then you told me to go. And I’m stubborn as hell so I did.”

“Mack, I couldn’t ask you to stay. I need things too and I needed you to stay without me telling you to. I won’t hold you back. I won’t tether you down or clip your wings. You are free to choose. And when you came back last night, you choose me. That’s all I need to move past all this. I just hope you keep choosing me… Forever.”

It’s the boldest David has ever been with his plans for them. Forever. Mack gnaws her bottom lip, causing it to plump and redden. 

“Forever?” She repeats. 

“Mhm.” He mumbles into her lips. He kisses her deeply, fusing her lips with his until she has to gasp for another breath. “You gonna run if I let go of you?” The deep smirk on his lips makes her understand he is joking.

“No!” She laughs, slapping his chest. “God, of course you’re already joking about this.” He runs a hand down her hip to her ass, giving it a healthy squeeze. He levels her with a serious stare, then kisses her again.

“Waffles or pancakes?” 

“Waffles.” She decides immediately. 

“Chocolate chips or strawberries?”

“Both?”

“Yessss. I was hoping you would say that.” He kisses her nose, then releases her to grab the other two ingredients. “Hey, we are going to Connor and Lucie’s tonight for dinner.” Mack stares back at David with an anxious, wide-eyed expression.

“I haven’t talked to Lucie yet.” She admits. That is definitely a conversation she is still avoiding.

“Nice.” David chuckles. “What could possibly go wrong?”

- - - & - - -

“Heeeee-YAH! MACK!” Lucie’s smile fades instantly when she sees her younger sister. “Nice.” She snaps at her, crossing her arms and blocking the doorway.

“I saw mom and dad in Switzerland. They say hi… I-I have chocolate for Stell!” Mack tries to smooth her sister’s angry scowl immediately.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lucie snarls in Swiss German. “Get in here.” She wraps a hand around her wrist then tugs her into a hug. “You scared the shit out of me and I’m fucking pregnant!”

“I’m sorry, Luc.” Mack closes her eyes, squeezing her older sister tightly. The pregnancy is not a surprise at all to her considering last time she saw Lucie. “Congratulations. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You hurt him.” Mack nods then steps out from their hug. 

“I know.” Mack whispers back. Lucie sighs, then steps around her to hug David.

“Go easy on my girl, Luc.” David murmurs to Lucie but looks at Mack while he says it. 

“Welcome home, Mack.” Connor murmurs from behind her. He tosses an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. Mack looks up at him. “You two good?” He motions between her and David. They both nod. “Then this group is good too.” He says decidedly. “Now tell me about this chocolate you brought for Stell. She has a dad tax to pay, even on gifts.”

They all laugh then move further into the apartment. Lucie and Connor go back into the kitchen together. Mack knows her and Lucie will discuss more later, when it's just the two of them. She'll cross that bridge when they get there.

David puts a hand on the small of Mack’s back to guide her into the living room. Stella is bouncing between various activities in the living room, but stops everything and dives at Mack for a hug. Mack smooches her cheeks, then allows her past to David. 

“What are we playing tonight, Stelly?” He asks her. 

Mack knows exactly why she ran. 

But this right here, is exactly why she never will again.

Read more Mack and David here.

[riddle-me-ri]

A/N: my first shot at the spot lets gooo. I’m sure this idea may have been done before, but the idea wouldn’t leave my mind as I imagined what it must be for Jon’s significant other to realize what he’s become when he tries to reach out after the incident, so here’s my take on it! It has been about 3-4 weeks since I’ve seen the film so sorry for any ooc-ness, I tried to stay true to his awkward, quirky, dorkiness though.

Trigger Warning: none

Word Count: 907

Jonathan Ohnn/The Spot x Reader - Welcome Home

After living in New York City for a while, you figured you've seen just about everything. 

Robberies, arson, colossal property damage, and even the usual Spider-Man swinging around or the occasional fracturing of reality as you know it…

You know, the usual. 

However even with all of that…it didn't prepare you for what or who waited for you at your apartment. 

You opened the door and began kicking off your shoes when you looked up and saw…it.

There stood a tall white figure that had its back bent against the ceiling. The figure had no face, just an endless black hole with various shaped holes littered all along its body. 

Your back hit the door as you jumped back in shock. "W-who-Wh-what are you?" 

The figure also jumped. "Ah! Hey-hey I-I know this is weir-AH!"

You came barreling towards the figure with a baseball bat you kept by the door, but the figure quickly shuffled behind the sofa. 

"What-Who-What're you doing here?! Who are you?" You shouted as you tried to get closer to him and make contact with your bat. 

"Hey! Hey-Sweetheart! Listen! I-Its me Jonny! I-I know I look-WHOA!" He ducked as you swung the bat again. “No, no, stop! It’s okay!”

The figure was on his back now, slowly scooting along the wooden floor with his arms out in defense.

The voice made you pause. It…it sounded familiar. C-could it be? 

"Jonny?" You slowly lowered the bat. 

Once you lowered your bat, a black portal appeared at your side and a white hand emerged and snatched your bat.

"Hey!" 

The figure in front of you, claiming to be Jon, now held your bat. 

"Sorry, sweetie…but you-we don't need this…just let me explain. Please." 

Your eyes scanned vigorously across the figure. Where were you supposed to look? His head had no facial features at all, you suppose the voice came from the black abyss where his face would be…

You couldn't deny the voice though and the warm comforting feeling that resonated in you when he called you sweetie. 

Plus you weren't sure how to explain to the cops that a large figure with spots broke into your home. 

"O-Okay…" You sighed, crossing your arms, having no other choice but to hear him out. 

At first, it was beyond difficult to comprehend. Super-Collider, radioactive spiders, dark matter, different dimensions and a bagel? 

"When the Super Collider was destroyed…I-I got mutated into this…this thing…I…I'm still getting used to the whole…portal..hole…spot stuff." He explained sheepishly. 

"I tried to go home..to my family but they shunned me away immediately, I-I was so nervous about coming here, but…I had nowhere else…no one else to turn to…I-I'm so sorry for scaring you, sweetie…if…if you still want me to leave or-or-" 

You finally spoke up. "No. No I-I don't want..I mean…yeah you did freak me out…a little…" 

Jonathan chuckled nervously, "uhh..yeah." 

"I mean…I-I don't quite understand the science behind it all, but it makes sense…it's just a lot."

He nodded. "I-I understand, t-thank you for letting me speak…I couldn't get a word in back home." 

"I missed you." You blurted out. "I-I didn't believe you when you said you were you, but…your voice…there's no mistaking it…and I missed it." 

"Oh, sweetheart…I-I'm so sorry." Jonathan got up on his knees and was able to get eye level to you. 

You couldn't deny how unnerving it was to stare into the pitch black abyss of his face. Did it go somewhere? Were his features sucked away into it? Or are they permanently erased? 

You gasped softly when you felt a heavy hand with long fingers touch the side of your face. 

A stray tear had fallen down and his thumb gently swiped it away. 

"I..know it's a little unsettling..my appearance. But I promise I'm still here…" He murmured. 

You gulped the lump in your throat as you experimentally reached your hand out. The tips of your fingers tracing the side of his oblong face, before nestling his cheek (or atleast where it would be) into your palm. 

Jonathan may not look like the Jonathan you knew, but you couldn't deny the warm loving feeling of being whole. To finally have that missing piece back where it belonged. 

"Is…is it safe to hug you?" You whispered softly. 

Jonathan pekred up. “Oh, uh, I mean…yeah, i-it should be, I-I won’t try and send you to another dimension or anything,” he chuckled nervously. 

“Yeah, please don’t do that, I just got you back.” You giggled half-heartedly, trying to keep the mood light. 

He nodded as he experimentally opened his arms up to you. You glanced all around his torso, shoulder, and arms. The spots stared back at you, as if tempting, daring you.

You closed your eyes and sighed before wrapping your arms around Jonathan’s waist…

Soon a pair of long lanky arms followed and returned your embrace. Jonathan rested his chin on top of your head.

“Wow…so, so, glad that worked out.” His arms squeezed tighter around you. 

You couldn’t help but smile as you relished in his close proximity. “Yeah, me too…”

“I-I know…I don’t look like me-but–”

You shushed him as you looked up at him. “It’s okay…it’ll be an adjustment but…I’m just so glad to have you back…regardless. We can..make it work, right?” 

You leaned in and pecked a patch of white skin on his cheek that wasn’t obscured by a spot. “Welcome home, Jonny.”

[discoknack]

Skully's Punishment Part 2

Part 1 here

As always I got the idea from @sonicasura

Also spoilers for episode 10-11.

Hoshina crooned at the Yoju, stopwatch in hand, "Good~ good, keep breathing just like that."

Skully's breathing was measured and deliberate, but their small form would occasionally shudder with a suppressed sob.

"Keep those arms out, knees bent. Tuck that tail more, no cheating! Almost there... Five. Four. Three..."

Hoshina almost couldn't hear himself over Skully's sudden outburst - they roared and screamed, mouth wide open and fists tightening. But they held their position, even with their limbs shaking. Very good. When he reached zero with an "all done!" Skully finally collapsed, sprawling onto their belly.

Then Skully took a deep breath, chest expanding, and began to weep, whimpering softly like a deflating balloon.

Hoshina swept them off the floor, holding Skully up by their underarms and grinning. "Ya done good, Rookie! I'm proud of you! Think you'll listen to me next time~?"

Skully was almost limp in his hands. But then they began to wiggle, straightening and grabbing Hoshina's arms for support, whimpering with each effort. They looked him in the eyes with tears streaming down their face and nose. Hoshina was kinda hoping they'd reply with a defeated 'yeah' or an 'uh huh' at least, but instead the Yoju babbled at him for a good ten seconds or so. Their words slurred together and they stopped and started several times, interrupted by sobs. Their kaiju vocal cords weren't doing them any favors, either. There were only a few words Hoshina could make out: Papa... gigantic scary... hurt... something...

He got the gist of it anyhow.

"Well, aren't you a sweetie!" he said, bringing Skully closer and wrapping his arms around them. "Just like your mumma."

Hoshina rubbed the spines on Skully's back. Skully settled in immediately, rumbling and chirping.

"But I'm not just your Papa; I'm also your Vice-Captain. I have a duty to my soldiers, ya know." That didn't fully sound right. "I have a duty to my children, especially." That sounded weird still. But it was probably the best description. "So. You hafta listen to me double-time~" Hoshina nuzzled Skully's neck, provoking happy chirps.

Hoshina sighed. "Justtt like your mama..."

Of course Kafka's kid would be just like him. Incredibly loyal. Admirable, but he sets a bad example. That's what I get for bringing on a rookie just 'cuz I liked him, huh? "Don't get too attached to your comrades," I told him. "Anything can happen."

Kafka! You had better come back. You owe me that much!

Hoshina was glad he had sent Okonogi away and was alone with the Yoju. So no one else could see his face.

-

"Hibino Kafka." Captain Ashiro said, idly thumbing the barrel of her gun. The smaller one, that is - not the cannon, thank god.

Kafka had stopped stressing a few moments ago, no longer sensing his whelp's cries and figuring that, with how they tapered off, it was fine. But now he was on edge again. Did she notice him sigh? "Y-yes, Captain?"

"The little one..." Mina shifted her weight, seeming uncertain. Kafka couldn't place why. "It's yours, isn't it?"

Well, there was no sense in lying.

"Yeah."

"Are you...?" Mina asked, "Do you...? Did-?" Then some color came into her cheeks and she turned away. "Sorry. Inappropriate questions."

Kafka took a moment to understand...

"Ehhh?! You got me all wrong! There's no way I'd be fooling around with- eee! sorry sorry..." He shrank back down into his seat at the sight of all the guns trained on him.

After some moments had passed, and the gunmen slowly relaxed, Mina made an odd sound, and looked like she was about to throw up. Her whole body was tense.

She did it again, grabbing at her neck and making little "ahem"s. She had to close her eyes or else they'd bulge out of her skull.

"Mi-!"

"Captain are you alright?!" Kafka had been interrupted by one of the soldiers.

Mina's forehead creased and she covered her mouth, but she couldn't stop the giggle from finally escaping. She managed to quiet down quickly, but even still, her shoulders shook. Finally, she took a breath and then did it again, tears springing to her eyes.

On the third breath she had it handled, getting a proper hold of her gun. She slowly exhaled, sobering up, almost to the point of a slight frown. Blinking away the tears, unsmiling, she said, "yes."

[rdng1230]

Random orphan scenes

Since I'm done with the multi chapter I was going back to some of my old bucktommy WIP's and I cannot remember where I was going with some scenes in one of them and honestly wherever I was going with it I kinda don't want to write anymore but I do still like the scenes so here ya go:

“So I see he didn’t crash and kill you both.” Eddie pants as he dodges a couple of Tommy’s quick punches. “I like to think,” Eddie’s returned blow grazes off Tommy’s left shoulder, “I’m not a bad teacher.” 

They continue their sparring around the center of Tommy’s garage, fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above them. The sun had set but the Los Angeles heat hadn’t gone with it. Both of them wore ratty black tank tops, mostly just to have something to dab up the sweat.

The two had fallen into a quick routine since their meeting at Harbor a few weeks ago. Tommy’d met Christopher picking up his father for a basketball game. It was pretty much impossible not to be charmed by the kid. He also had the added benefit of not having to be asked for intel on Evan. He opened up immediately upon knowing that Tommy had flown his father and his Buck, Tommy’d raised an eyebrow at that one, into a hurricane. 

“Wow, so what does this superhero do on his off hours?” Tommy had inquired, after Chris was done recounting the tale of Buck and his father saving a girl in a runaway hot air balloon. Tommy’s budding crush was growing a little more with every story. Chris paused, “We play a lot of video games,” he starts, “Buck’s always trying to get his recipes right so we cook and bake a lot together.” 

Eddie landed a punch straight to Tommy’s sternum, jerking him back to the present. His breath sputters and Eddie looks almost apologetic before his smirk returns “You daydreaming, Kinard?” he taunts good-naturedly. 

“Maybe a little,”  Tommy says, lifting his knee. “Not enough to lose though.” With a leftward push to the abdomen he shoves Eddie out of the ring. 

—-

Back at the Diaz house, Buck lounged out on the couch watching Chris do his math homework. Chris had now surpassed the point where Buck or his Dad could really assist. Eddie was in the kitchen catching up on dishes when there was a knock at the door. 

“Are we expecting anybody?” Eddie called to the living room. 

“Yeah yeah, It’s Tommy.” Buck responded. “He’s picking me up.” Eddie could hear Buck’s tall frame rise from the sofa and start toward the door but Eddie had him beat. 

On the porch, Tommy started at the sound of the swing door opening. Eddie was wearing a dish towel over his shoulder with Evan a pace or two behind. 

Eddie made a move to hug Tommy but Buck barrelled past him, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders while Tommy’s instinctively wrapped around his waist. Tommy gave Evan a tender kiss to the cheek. Opening his eyes, he found Eddie’s gaze had remained fixed, and an unidentifiable emotion flashed in it, gone as quickly as it had appeared. 

Releasing Tommy from the hug, Evan grasped his hand and started pulling him toward the car. 

“Hey, aren’t you gonna say goodbye to Cristopher?” Eddie called after him, crossing his arms. 

Buck bent backwards to get a clear view of the front door around Tommy’s broad shoulders. “Chris, I love you buddy, I’ll see you tomorrow!” Buck called into the hallway. 

There was a pause, the sound of Chris putting down his paper and pencil and leaning towards the back of the couch. “Love you too Buck!” he called. 

Buck flashed Eddie a cocky grin and climbed into the passenger seat. When Tommy joined him in the driver’s, Evan immediately seized back his hand. Tommy loved how much his boyfriend seemed to need to touch him in some way all the time. “Thanks for picking me up, babe.” Tommy looked to his side mirror as they made the turn off Bedford, catching sight of Eddie still looking at them from the porch. 

“It’s no problem.” 

—-

Was I going for pining Eddie? Was I going for "being worried about Buck drifting away from him and Chris" Eddie? Was I going for a totally separate Gay! Eddie arc? fuck if I know.

Absolutely nuts how you can read your own writing even just two three months later and it's like somebody else entirely wrote it. Like "Damn where is this bitch going with this? Motherfucker this bitch is YOU?!?!?"

[dandylovesturtles]

Raph and Leo trick or treat

Uhhhh this one is breaking the rules but I had an idea and no one asked for Leo and Raph trick, so here we go.

CW: death (of OCs, no major characters), violence (not particularly graphic)

———

Just seconds ago they were watching a movie together. Leo got up, said he wanted more tea. Raph offered to get it for him, because Leo still needed crutches, still had nasty cracks in his shell, but Leo shook his head and said he wanted to move around.

Now, there are six people in their home, and Raph has idea how they got here.

Humans, all of them. Adults, big guys, some of them even taller than Raph. They’re wearing military fatigues and vests and helmets, and they’re armed to the teeth. EPF is emblazoned on their lapels.

They’ve positioned themselves to block Leo and Raph off from each other. Three gun barrels trained on each of them. Raph wonders how they got past Donnie’s security system.

Calling for help is no use. Mikey and Splinter have gone to the Hidden City for supplies, and Donnie’s looting a junkyard. Maybe this is why they’re attacking now. It’s just the two of them, and Leo is in no state to fight.

Raph feels frozen, unsure what to do. He doesn’t have his weapons - if he summons them, will they shoot him? Shoot Leo? He doesn’t know if bullets would pierce their shells. He doesn’t want to find out.

“Heyyyy guys,” says Leo, his voice light despite the situation. “Are you from the IRS? Sorry, we’ll get right on those taxes.”

“Quiet,” barks one of the men.

“Oh yeah, right to remain silent.” Leo chuckles in a strained way. “Never been good at that one.”

“You will come with us,” the same man says. “We are authorized to use force if you do not cooperate.”

“Sorry, my dad says not to go with strangers.”

Raph can’t see it, but he hears it: the slam of something his little brother’s face; Leo grunting in pain; the clatter of his crutches as he stumbles and falls.

Something inside Raph wakes up and roars.

They are outnumbered. They are unarmed. They are just kids, facing down adults with guns and armor and forceful expressions.

And Raph will fight tooth and nail, to his last breath, to protect his family.

His ninpo crackles as it engulfs his fists. He hears one of the men shout in surprise. There’s a gunshot, then another.

Raph barely registers it. His only thought is to protect Leo. He knows nothing else.

It’s a few minutes later when the static clears. “Raph!” Leo is calling, and he sounds panicked, and it shakes Raph back to awareness.

There’s blood everywhere. The air stinks with it. And there are bodies. Six of them, mangled and bent and impossibly small on the ground.

The red of his ninpo falls away and Raph stares in uncomprehending shock.

They’re dead.

He killed them.

It had been easy.

“Raph,” Leo says again, something begging in his tone. “Raph, come on, snap out of it. We can’t stay here.”

“I killed them,” he says.

“It was self-defense,” Leo answers immediately. “They broke into our house. They had guns.”

“It was easy,” he says, and feels sick.

“They attacked us,” Leo argues. He’s shaking and so is Raph. “You were protecting me.”

Raph stares at his hands. He feels like they should have blood on them, but they don’t. His ninpo shielded him from the spray.

“Raph,” says Leo, voice somehow measured despite everything. “Donnie’s alone.”

It’s this that finally shakes him out of it. His other little brother is alone. What if they’re after him, too?

He looks at Leo. There’s a trickle of blood coming from his nose where he got hit. He’ll have a shiner for sure. But he’s unhurt otherwise. His eyes are big and worried but they aren’t afraid.

“We have to get out of here,” Leo reiterates. “We can get the tank. Get Donnie and Dad and Mikey and figure out what to do.”

Raph nods. Right. They can’t just stand around. They can’t stay here with the-

He takes a deep breath. “I’ll carry you, you try to get Donnie on the comms.”

Relief floods Leo’s face, and he nods. “Great plan, big guy.”

Raph lifts Leo in his arms, grabbing his crutch and tucking it under his shoulder before he’s moving. Away from the stench of blood and death.

Leo calls Donnie on the comm, and he answers right away. He already knows, and Raph listens as the twins work out a meeting point. Leo doesn’t tell Donnie what happened. Just says they’re okay.

It will do for now.

[naavispider]

Oh No

The prompt was Quaritch showing up to the Sullys' front door, hell bent on reclaiming Spider and uncaring about the consequences. Here's the drabble! 1.6k, swearing, Lyle features!

Oh, shit. 

“Jake!” Spider yelled, his voice conveying the level of absolute terror that the sound of the tyres on the drive sent into his very being. “He’s here!” 

He’s found me. 

“Get away from the window!” Jake came barrelling into the living room, shoving Spider away from the curtain where he’d been watching. His face was panicked.

“Kids!” Jake yelled, calling up the stairs. “Stay in your rooms! Lock the doors!”

Lo’ak, Kiri and Neteyam didn’t have time to reply before the intimidating figure of Miles Quaritch was bolting from the door of the car and charging up the driveway. 

Terror flooded Spider’s insides. 

Thump. 

Thump. 

Thump. 

The door shook with the force of the hits. Jake pulled Spider by the shoulder into the hallway. 

“Open up! You’ve got one chance! I'm here for Miles!”

Spider’s heart was pounding so hard he thought his ribs were going to crack. Quaritch was here. 

And he wasn’t leaving. 

Jake pushed Spider roughly behind him, up a couple of the stairs. What would happen if Miles broke in? Would he be content with taking Spider? Or would he silence the rest of the family? Spider thanked his stars that Neytiri and Tuk were out at least - but the rest, would they be allowed to escape unscathed?

“Get off my property!” Jake shouted through the locked front door. “The cops are already on their way!”

“I’m coming for you Miles! Come out so no one gets hurt!” 

“Jake…” Spider urged, voice low. 

“It’s okay, he’s not gonna take you.”

Whack. 

The door shuddered as Quaritch began shouldering it in. 

“How long till the cops get here?” Spider's voice was shaky, matching the trembling hands he was using to grip Jake’s arm with. 

“Not long,” Jake's voice was firm, reassurance only thinly veiling the fear he clearly felt. “Don’t worry, he’s not taking you.”

Whack. 

The door shuddered again. 

“Come out, Miles.”

Whack. 

The door splintered, small at first. Spider watched with wide eyes from behind Jake as Quaritch shouldered the door again, forcing the splinter to split the wood further. “Jake…” Spider’s voice rose. 

“He’s not getting you.”

Spider looked up at his foster dad, his body tense and defensive, gaze locked on the door, which surely didn’t have long left. 

“Dad!” Kiri called down the stairs, terrified at the sounds. 

“Kiri! Lock yourselves in! Don’t come out!” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

One more forceful shoulder was all it took to break the door completely, and to Spider’s horror, Quaritch’s hand appeared through the gap in the wood and fumbled around for the lock. 

“Stay out! I’m armed!” Jake lied. 

“Oh yeah?” Quaritch replied, finding the lock and twisting. “So am I.”

The door swung open and the full height of Miles Quaritch was revealed, holding in both hands a loaded, grey pistol, pointing straight at Jake.

“No!” Spider yelled, pushing Jake to the side to better see his father.

Quaritch’s face lit up when he saw him. “Miles!” he grinned, eyes wide and looking like a textbook maniac. “It’s been a while! You’re looking good!”

“Please leave,” Spider tried to get his voice to sound assertive, but he knew it couldn’t have been working.

“Course I’m gonna leave! I’ve got no plans to stick around here!” He cast his eyes briefly around the entrance to the house. “But I’m not leaving without you. Get in the car.”

Spider shook his head, while Jake shoved him back behind him. “You’re not. Taking him. The cops will be here any minute-”

“I’m bored of this,” Quaritch cut him off. He turned his attention back to Spider. “Come with me, or I’ll shoot this man.”

Cold, cold terror flooded Spider’s gut, rising up his throat and into his mouth. He stared at Quaritch, then looked at Jake, knowing he didn’t have a choice. 

“I don’t want to, but I will,” Quaritch sighed, staring only at Spider as he trained his gun towards Jake’s chest. 

“Stop! Okay, I’ll come with you!” Spider tried to push Jake aside, but the man wasn’t letting him go. 

“No,” growled Jake. 

Bang! Before Spider realised, Quaritch let off a warning shot, pointing straight up into the ceiling of the house. Dust trickled down from the hole left behind in the ceiling. Quaritch retrained his aim on Jake. 

“Hurry up, kid.”

This time, when Spider shoved past Jake, Jake didn’t try and stop him. Spider knew he was thinking the same thing as him. It was Neteyam’s room right above where they were. Had the bullet hit any of the others?

Spider deliberately didn’t look at Jake as he crossed the space between him and Quaritch; his legs felt like they were moving of their own accord. He scrambled out from behind Jake, then cautiously closed the gap. His breaths came in pants as his ex military father stared him down eagerly. 

He didn’t get a chance to say anything before Quaritch grabbed him by the arm, spinning him around to face the door and keeping his gun pressed into Spider’s back. 

Spider gasped at the sudden threat to his life and it was all he could do to keep up as Quaritch marched them out of the door and up to the car. Another man was waiting for them, bald and dressed in all black combat attire, holding a pair of snapcuffs. 

“No!” Spider shouted, struggling against Quaritch’s bruising grip, but with the other man yanking his hands behind his back and securing them in the cuffs, Spider could do nothing to fight. “Wait!” Spider yelled helplessly as Quaritch shoved Spider into the back of the car, the two men racing around to the front and climbing in without wasting a moment. 

Spider landed half on the seats and half on the floor, unable to brace himself with his hands, and scrambled to get up. 

He was in the car. 

This was really happening. 

“Let me out!” He demanded furiously, as the second man only let out an amused huff and his father spoke condescending words from the passenger seat. 

“I’ve got you now, Miles. I’ve waited so long to have you back. You’ve got no idea!”

They were off, speeding away down the street before Spider could even fully accept what was happening. 

“Please!” He shouted. His hands being tied behind his back made it impossible for him to try and attack either man sat in front, so he grabbed the door handle instead and pulled. 

He knew it would be locked, but the dread of the confirmation still froze him all over. Undeterred, he wiggled into a better position and pulled again, this time using his legs to kick the door out as well. 

“Quit that! You know, I’m surprised at you Miles. I thought you’d be smarter.”

Anger bubbled in Spider’s stomach as he snarled in frustration, taking it all out on the car door. “Fuck you!” He shouted. “And my name is Spider!” 

Spider could see Quaritch turn to his mate in the driver’s seat, who still hadn’t spoken a word, and exchange smirks. 

“And a mouth on you too! I’m glad you’ve got spunk! Yeah, you’re my boy alright.”

It was so… evil, so unhinged. Spider couldn’t contain his fury. “I am not your boy!” He snarled, lacing the words with as much hatred as he could muster. 

“It’s okay, Miles. I know this is a stressful situation for you. But you’ll see soon enough.”

Spider threw his head back against the seat, trying to repress a scream of frustration. He did the only thing that felt right. “You’re a piece of shit! Good for nothing, son of a bitch! Let me out, now!”

When he got no response, he doubled down. “Bastards!” He shouted, trying instead to kick the window out. Thank God he was wearing his boots. He lay down on the seat and used his heel to hit the window as hard as he could, over and over again, cussing his mouth out the whole time. 

“Damn, kid!” Quaritch said, laughing. “You’ll break your foot before you break that glass!”

Everything the man said triggered Spider. His next kick was only partly an attempt to escape, and more so an effort to spite the man calling himself his father. He rammed his foot as hard as he could into the ungiving glass, uncaring about the consequences and fuelled by adrenaline, and cried out as what Quaritch said would happen came true. 

Pain tore through his ankle as his foot gave way, feeling like something had shattered. 

“Fuck!” he screamed, unable even to clutch his throbbing ankle. He lay on the seat, keeping his injured foot raised against the window, panting against the pain. 

When he came to his senses, he resumed his verbal tirade. “I hate you! You’re a sick ballsack who needs therapy! Open the fucking door!”

“You’re not gonna quit, are you?” Quaritch half turned from the passenger seat to face him. Spider sized up the distance between them, wondering if he could manage to spit at him from here. 

“Like fuck, I am!” he yelled. 

He didn’t see the look Quaritch threw the bald driver, or the man’s nod in response. All he saw was Quaritch reach into the glovebox and pull something out, fiddling with it in his lap before suddenly lunging back towards Spider and covering his mouth with a thick wad of material that stank of chemicals. He panicked, trying to wriggle away, but his hands were trapped underneath him, and Quaritch was strong. At first he thought his father was trying to suffocate him, but after only one breath he realised he’d misjudged it. His eyes started to close without his permission while his head suddenly swam at the stench. He could do nothing more as the world around him turned black.

[dooralight]

The demons have passed, and the king is naked(Erase everything you've known about me until today)

It's been two days, three hours and 27 minutes since damian went missing.

It's been an hour since Jason found him.

Usually, Jason didn't care much about the brat; he could take care of himself, after all. Like Jason, Damian was trained by the league, and knew 102 ways to kill a man thrice his size but he hates killing, and felt the need to remind the elder of that at least once a week. Plus, Jason had very few reasons to care for his so-called 'family', as dick insists to call their weird, creepy, sad bat-cult. And damian was definitely not one of them.

While the two were technically brothers, the role of robin was the only thing they had in common. Jason was raised in poverty, barely surviving the cold nights of gotham, and was forced to steal and run. Jason had nothing but a mother who wrapped her bony body around him at cold nights until she didn't. Damian, on the other hand, lived a life of luxury. The league's prince, the al ghul's pride and joy. Damian was raised in a cult full of murderers, barely surviving the brutal training he was forced to endure, forced to either kill or be killed. And Sometimes he was killed. damian had everything except for sympathy. And for those differences, Jason couldn't ever connect with the kid. That, and because damian was an absolute displeasure to be around.

So when he got a frantic call from Dick, claiming damian went missing, Jason honestly didn't care all that much. ''maybe the demon spawn doesn't want to be found.'' He told the oldest of Bruce's child soldiers children, not even removing his eyes from the gun barrel he was cleaning. "what?'' dick's disdisbelieving voice uttered from the other side of the call. "how can you say that?" Jason rolled his eyes and got up to get cleaner rug from the kitchen. ''you heard me. Kid's does that all the time. Disappears for a while, then comes back from the pits of hell just to torment us.''

"don't talk about your brother like that.'' Dick scolded, and gosh, he sounded like such a mom. ''besides, he never disappeared like that before. he always leaves a note or something.'' 'he always lets me know' was left unsaid. Honestly, gross. ''I don't know what to tell you, dickie. Maybe the kid felt like he was too old to let his wannabe daddy sigh his permission slip-'' a beep announced that the call has ended before he got the chance to finish his sentence. 

He found damian by accident.

Stephanie informed him of a case that cannot tolerate delays. ''a bunch of magic users are trying to summon a demon in the forest near gotham.'' She told him, a deep frown settled on her chin. She looked unusually troubled. "do we know why?'' he asked. That was too vague, even for brown. Batgirl only seemed to grow more upset by his question. "from the intel Constantine gave me, they're trying to create a new world from 'the ruins' of this one.'' She tried to mimick the man's British accent, but it ended up sounding more like Alfred. "and why exactly do you need me? I may be friends with an amazon, but I don't know all that much about magic, kid.''

Stephanie straightened her posture from being bent over the bat-computer and started heading towards the bat-mobile with her fists clenched at her sides. ''I need your…brute force. Either knock some sense into them,'' batgirl's too-calm voice echoed through the cave, ''or knock them out.''

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

And that's how he found damian, standing behind a large, relatively flat boulder in the middle of a forest, surrounded by various animals, holding his katana in a threatening pose. ''your footsteps were too heavy, and I could hear the sound of Autumn leaves crunching under your feet from a mile ago. Were you not aware you're in a forest, Todd?" the little brat criticized distastefully, though he drew the weapon away and lowered himself into the ground. Jason scoffed. "yeah, whatever. Mind telling me what am I seeing?"

because the view in front of him probably got into the list of 'top 10 weirdest things red hood has seen this month', which meant something. In front of him, damian, in his 4'5 glory, was sitting calmly, drinking tea from one of alfred's favorite sets of cups, and he wasn't the only one; batman's blood son was surrounded by a raccoon, two deers, titus & Alfred the cat, and a fricking bear, all of them having their own cups. ''why do you care?" damian spat. Titus let out a growl. The dirty looking racoon stuffed his face into his cup of tea. ''I don't want to take the blame when B and dickie finds out their little baby got torn apart by a bear.'' Jason returned with the same amount of venom.

He regretted separating from Stephanie. She's one of the only people on the planet who has mastered the ability to deal with damian's attitude. ''I am not a baby. And besides, American black bears are the friendliest breed of bears." Damian scowled for a brief moment, then let a small smirk crawl into his features. "though, I wouldn't expect you to know that."

''you little—oh, whatever. Good luck with your bear.'' Jason turned to leave, then remembered the reason he came in the first place. "by the way, have you seen any magic users around here?'' Damian paused from petting one of the deers. "magic users?" Jason nodded. "yeah. Batgirl reported seeing them yesterday. You didn't happen to see anything?" Damian stared at him. "brown was keeping me company yesterday. There is no way she noticed something that I didn't." Jason's brain short-circuited.

"She was with you? yesterday?" And she didn't tell Bruce anything? Well, he could actually understand that. But why didn't she at least tell dick? Damian scoffed. "Are you deaf as well as foolish?" Jason's fingers twitched around his tranquiller, his vision filling with a too-familiar-green.

'Knock sense into them, or knock them out'. So, Steph led Jason to the little punk on purpose. She couldn't possibly expect him to talk damian into coming back, could she? She was smart enough to know he was the less suitable bat for the job. Did she expect him to get him home forcefully? Hm. He supposed could do her a favor. He might even enjoy it.

"What are you doing here anyway?" He asked and sat himself between damian and the bear , making himself a barrier between the two. "Why do you care?" The tiny satan demanded yet again. There was a certain spark in his eyes jason could tell he was trying, and failing, to hide. Jason shrugged. "Just curious." And he wasn't lying; Damian has run away before to fight villains, mercenaries, and sometimes even heroes behind their backs. But this? Going missing without telling anybody just to... hang with a bunch of animals? Jason didn't get it.

At his answer, the spark in damian's green eyes died. "Go away, Todd." He sneered with hunched shoulders. "Listen here Junior-"

"Go away!" Damian suddenly lashed out, standing with his fists clenched in front of his body, preparing for a fight. "You weren't invited here! You're ruining everything!" Jason remained sitting, though his hand tightened around his belt. He's missing something. Damian was going through some crisis for a reason he didn't know, and Stephanie, damn her, was nowhere to be found.

"Just tell me what's happening, damian." He said cooly.

Damian eyes, damian's sparkless, tired eyes locked with his. For a reason jason didn't know, the younger listened. "Will you leave if I told you?" He whispered defeatedly. "Sure," Jason decided to entertain him, but his hand didn't leave his tranq'.

Damian looked down with an unusual shyness, his foot shuffling against the forest's ground, before he looked up.

"They're my new brothers and sisters." He stated with renewed confidence, and smiled a little when the bear let an unholy screech.

"Your- what?" Jason expected a lot of things, but certainly not that. Definitely not that. Damian didn't seem how understand how strange the situation was. He repeated, like it was obvious. Like it was normal.

"They're my new family."

'But they're a bunch of brainless animals' Jason thought. Out loud, though, he chose to ask: "why do you need another family?"

Damian's long, thick lashes hid his eyes as he tilted his head down, locking eyes with titus as if silently asking for advice. "I… do not belong in father's family. I never did, and i never will. I understood it, and it's only a matter until they- until you realize that too." damian informed blankly.

What? Damian 'the batman's only blood son' Wayne thought Jason, the failed robin, fitted in the family more than him? Jason bit back a shocked laugh. "Kid, they're looking for you right now. They're worried sick-"

"They're afraid. Afraid I'll go on a killing spree now that I have no supervision." he dismissed bitterly, then his head snapped up with a glare. "I wouldn't. Tell them I wouldn't."

'Like they'll believe me'

"...Why did you come here of all places?" Jason asked and tensed when the bear roared loudly. "Do you want a refill, Stephanie?" the boy completely ignored Jason's question and got up with a teapot, circled the boulder to get to the bear- to "Stephanie", apparently- and gracefully poured the warm liquid into his cup. The bear roared again, and this time damian took it as Stephanie being happy and returned to his seat.

Only after he settled down he bothered to answer Jason's question. "…All people know to do is to judge. they decide for you whether you're good enough, kind enough, or if your cruel enough, skilled enough, brutal enough- " the moment he started, damian couldn't seem to know how to stop, "and do you know why that's the problem, Todd? let me spill light on the ugly truth; You will never be good enough for them. For any of them. Because they're people. and all people know is to judge. It doesn't matter how much you will train, or how much blood will you spill -yours or others- or how many people will you've maimed, or how many people you saved- you will keep running and running and running, until your legs give out and you won't be able to breath and you will still. Never. Be. At. They're. Pace."

Damian's scarred fingers- why were they so scarred? - patted alfred's fur distractedly, his eyes burning holes into Jason. "Because they are saints. And you, Todd, are not." And as true as it was, Jason got the feeling damian wasn't talking about him.

"Damian-" Jason's voice cracked as he stared back at His brother. At his kid brother. Because damian was just a little kid. How could Jason, who called himself Gotham's children protector, not protect his little brother from the pain he knew all to well? How could he- how could they all not notice the kid in their house was suffering? How could they let him think his worth was only judged by his actions as robin?

"Animals don't judge, todd. They're just... animals."

'Because it was'

"Damian," jason spoke. The other failed robin peeked curiously at him. "can… can they be my brothers and sisters too? I kinda need a family too." He hoped damian would understand what was he really saying. 'Let me into your new family. Let me into your heart. Give me another chance to be a brother to you. Let me save you from becoming me.' Because as much as damian needed him to, Jason couldn't get himself to say all of that out loud. In some ways, he guessed he wasn't all that different from their old man.

Damian eyes narrowed, then widened almost comically. His fingers fidgeted and his breath hitched.

"Only...uh, only if they say it's ok." Damian stuttered and leaned to put his ear near one of the deers' mouth. Jason held his breath as the deer licked damian's cheek, and watched damian scrunch his nose and wipe it discreetly.

"they allow it.'' damian announced boredly, but jason didn't miss the return of that spark to his shining eyes. "but don't you dare tell any of the others about it."

jason, despite himself, chuckled. "not even tim?"

damian's nosetrills flared. "especially not drake."

mabye they weren't so different after all.

"I'm back!" A cheery voice called from the behind the trees. Oh, so now stephanie bothered to find them.  

"I see the stealth training I gave you finally started to get into your head." damian told her.

"oh, please. if anyone trained me, it was cass." steph rolled her eyes and set a plastic bag on the surface of the boulder. "here, i brought more supplies to your little tea party."

"it is not a tea party! what do you think of me? a mere child?" 

"yes." steph and jason responded at the same time, and locked eyes as damian scoffed, offended.

"knock some sense into them, huh?" jason lifted his brows. stephanie smirked.

"or knock them out. i gave you two options.'' she shrugged innocetly.

"why me?" jason asked her.

"why you what? what are you two talking about?" damian demanded. steph looked them both over, then sighed.

"we... the three of us, 'the dead robins'," the failure robins, jason translated easily. "need to stick together. have each others backs, y'know?"

"i agree." surpisingly enough, damian was the one who said it. "we will never be a match for dick grayson, or cassandra cain. it wouldn't do any of us any good to stand alone in their shadows."

wow. the kid was full of surprises, wasn't he? "I don't know, kid. i think you're on the way to get there." jason then procceded to wrestle his baby brother into a mendatory head ruffle, to which damian tried to bite his way out of. 

"okay, enough with the emotional talk. damian, you're going back to the manor today. we'll figure out a lie about where you've been later." damian tried to protest, but was distracted by knuckles dugging harshly into his skull. "now, how is stephanie the deer?" she cood.

"the deers' names are gilbert and mr. alexander." damian deadpanned, finally free from his ridiculous big brother.

"wait, what? then who's stephanie?" she questioned. jason tilted his head towards the bear, who was napping now. he will have to ask damian later how did he manage to tame a wild bear, but for now he'll just lean back and enjoy the show while alfred the cat cuddled close to him.

"you named a bear after me?!' the former spoiler shouted, outraged.

"it seemed fitting, fatgirl." 

"why, you little--"

[brewed-pangolin]

Have some more Soap x Mason for Super Soap Sunday

18+ Mildly NSFWish

Previous Interaction Here

You had completely lost track of time. Shift work taking its toll on your circadian rhythm to the point you had forgotten what day it was altogether.

Walking into the kitchen, back bent in exhaustion and a stride that was only just above zombie incarnate.

Opening the fridge, you eyed a Styrofoam box and flipped its top to spill the remnants of whatever days Chinese food into a bowl from the rack on the sink.

With a loud click, the door to the microwave swung open, and you were once again met with a familiar sight.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you muttered in restrained frustration. Rolling your eyes, stepping out of the kitchen to stand at the base of the staircase to fully release your starved irritation.

"Johnny! Get your goddamn fleshlight out of the microwave, you petulant celery stick fuck!"

"Eh, eh, eh...easy, hen. No need fer smearin' this early in th'mornin."

Turning on your heels to Soap's murmured voice from within the living room, you eyed his distinctive hawk as he peered his groggy blue stare over the back of the couch.

"S'ides. It ain't mine."

You parted your lips with a snarl, puffing your chest to expell another series of disgusted expletives. Only to be silenced as Mason came barreling down the staircase, pushing you aside as he swiftly plucked the pleasure device from the within the appliance.

"Sorry, love. Didn't think you'd be home til later," he said with a soft smile and an impish stare. Explaining his actions with ease and nonchalance that had your head spinning in confused disgruntlement.

"Are you just gonna stand there with your warmed up dick toy, Mason? Or can I eat my lo mein in peace?"

"I don't know. You want dinner and a show?"

A muffled gag erupted from within your throat at his provocative query. Tossing the left overs into the garbage, your appetite abruptly disappearing while making your way out of the kitchen.

"I'm moving out."

"Like hell you are, sweetheart." Mason replied while passing by and disappearing briskly up the staircase.

With a heavy sigh, you grabbed at your purse to make way up to heavenly seclusion.

"Eh, bonnie?" Soap called out, halting your ascension.

"What?"

"Ya like celery?"

Rolling your eyes, you turned to face him with a sardonic brow.

"Yeah. Sure. Why?"

Soap's eyes narrowed, shifting his gaze from you to the obvious tent in his sweatpants than back again.

"Got'a thick stock callin yer name, lass."

Your stomach folded in on itself at his decisive temptation, nearly bolting up the stairs. However the sudden tingling within your heat made you think otherwise.

Tossing your purse to the floor at the end of the stairs, you made your way down with a hungry glare. Joining Soap on the couch as he intended to feed a more carnal appetite.

-

The banter in this series is going to be epic. I'm so excited. Can't wait to get this AU finally started.

@deadbranch @ohgeesoap @efingart @writeforfandoms

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