#think i might make the eye rip take two prying opens. really get the yanking in there instead of making the split so fast

[skrunksthatwunk]

hiei jagan surgery hallucination wip

[youryanderedaddy]

♡100 followers special♡

Guys, I would like to thank all of you for all the support since I started this blog, you are the best <3 Btw this is the fic Elon Musk doesn’t want you to see lol, jk jk 

Title: Humanity

Words: 3.6k 

Summary: When you get sold to an odd looking robot after the last failure of a rebellion, things go better than you had expected. Until they don’t. 

tw: robot/AI apocalypse au, dystopia au, slavery, slight non - sexual public nudity, discrimination, vulgar language, mention of death and child abuse (in the past), obsessive behavior, non - consensual touching, angst 

              AD 3061y., 14 September

 Your hometown was in ruins, shattered by the Forces and left without any source of food, clean water or reliable manpower. The rebellion had failed just like the first ten attempts and as much as you had wanted to believe this time would be different, your dreams stayed nothing more than a way to cope with the harsh reality. Any intelligent individual had either managed to flee before the prosecution or died in agony while trying. You could still hear their pained screams ringing in your ear, the desperate look in their pupils sealed forever in your mind along with the sound of heavy breathing slowly fading into the background like your own hopes for a better future.

 The ones who decided to play meek and close their eyes to the inhuman torture happening in the area were spared, but what awaited them could potentially be worse than death itself. You were part of the flock of pitiful weak humans who had surrendered to the heartless machines wanting nothing more than to see mankind squirm and kneel underneath their mechanic heel like a bug. And now you would face the hour of judgment – tired and exhausted, heavy rusty chains around your bruised ankles making every next step a little harder than the last one. But you were certain that the most painful humiliating event hadn’t taken place yet and the thought made your blood run cold. You could recall the countless stories you used to hear on the streets from your friends about androids stealing kids and selling them like cattle to the most powerful leaders of society. Back then you would laugh at them, finding the ideas ridiculous, better fit for a conspiracy theory or a legend rather than an actual threat. But during that time life was easier – the robots were still your friends, just your average citizens, equal to the humans in every manner. It wasn’t until ten years later that some of them realized just how much better, stronger and smarter than the people they really were. That’s how the apocalypse started and that’s how it was going to end. These days the mortals were becoming extinct with the population cut down to one million. You didn’t have names or rights to any possession. Your mere survival had one purpose only – to entertain the machines so they could feel human again. And right now you were being dragged to Soraq, also known as the biggest slave market in the country.

----

 It was just as terrifying as you had imagined it to be. The Capital was supposed to express wealth, luxury and maybe even happiness but your old human views were easily opposed when faced with the mud  covering what was left of the pavement and the pale exhausted bodies of the mortals wandering the streets searching for a hot meal and a little bit of kindness it was clear no one wanted to provide. You reached out to help a young girl sobbing all by herself on the ground but the Officer roughly yanked your shoulder back and ordered you to keep going – his cold hard touch was enough to bruise your skin.

 After a few long minutes of uncertainty your keeper finally stopped, pulling you up some black stairs leading to a small stage and if you weren’t too busy looking around for the others who were captured, you might have noticed the crowd gathered inches away from you. Soon enough you were forced to redirect your attention as you heard the approving screams and cheering below. There were hundreds of robots staring at you, smirking maliciously, pinning you with their cold calculating gazes. You finally realized that this wasn’t just a bad dream or a nightmare, something unreal you could easily run away from by opening your eyes. You were about to become property and the worst part was the way the cruel machines perfectly resembled people – they looked the same except for the dark red pupils each possessed which glowed when going into a fight mode. But unlike humans the androids had gotten rid of their most intimate emotions and fears, turning themselves into empty shells, shiny and murderous with no way to experience anything properly, be it pleasure or pain.

 “Ladies and gentlemen!” The Officers started off with a low chuckle, his heavy hand wrapped tightly around your arm. His voice should have been programmed to be monotone but now it had a playful edge to it. “Today our dear subjects have decided to be feisty yet again. They still haven’t learned their lesson it seems.” He grinned eerily, quickly followed by the mocking laugher of the crowd. Some even shouted slurs and insults but you tried to focus on controlling your feelings. You needed to stay calm if you wanted to survive. “We really can’t expect more from the mankind. They are primal after all, they just can’t learn from their mistakes.” The male robot paused for a second to fix his microphone. “It’s in their DNA code to be foolish and pathetic. That’s why we need to take better care of them.” He whispered the last line down your neck and despite knowing that the machines didn’t have actual lungs, you could swear you felt his cold breath on your sensitive skin.

 “The woman is in her early twenties. Her background is unknown, but she certainly looks like someone you would want in your collection.” The android continued talking as if you weren’t there, his hands all over your tinier frame. The mass was yelling, but you only made out the words „down”, „strip” and „human”. Your eyes watered involuntarily and you let the tears stream down your cheeks in spite of the weakness they showed. It didn’t matter – it couldn’t get any worse so you could at least let yourself experience such little bits of comfort. In the next moment the Officer ripped your old ragged t-shirt, exposing your breasts to the cold autumn air. The hot red humiliation washed over you as the degrading whistles pierced trough your heart. It was such a cruel unfair punishment and you couldn’t even keep your composure long enough to not break down ugly – crying right there.

 “The bidding starts at one thousand eros!” The robot’s evil voice echoed through the area, reaching the market borders. Suddenly all the attention was on your scared vulnerable half-naked self. More than ten androids raised their hands, making your stomach turn in terror. Most of them had unpleasant appearances, resembling old people, usually men. “Do we have two thousand eros?” The officer added quickly afterwards having seen the shown interest. This time there were only five bots willing to buy you for so much money – but the show was far from over. “Am I seeing three thousand eros?” Your keeper kept going, determined to drain your bidders off their wealth, but to his utmost surprise now there were only two robots with their hands in the air – one seemingly younger and the other looking all wrinkled and bitter at the world. You silently prayed that fate would work in your favor only this time and hand you over to the man who would treat you more like a living being and less like an object.

 “Ten thousand eros.” Suddenly the android with a kinder appearance declared out loud, his cold stern gaze fixed onto you. The other male hesitated for a moment, probably wondering whether or not you were worth so much money, but at the end he cursed under his breath and slowly put his hand down with a sour expression. “Sold to K-010 for ten thousand eros!” The automatic voice of the Officer was ringing in your ear like an alarm while the crowd was shouting and cussing, some going as far as to criticize your new owner for giving up his monthly salary for a “cheap human whore”. Next he was invited on the stage to sign off all the needed documents leading to your freedom being ripped away forever and you were injected with a tiny chip which would make your location visible to your buyer at any given time. The android looked at you soon after and in one swift move he managed to place his leather coat on your shoulders, muttering at you to cover up. You obeyed, embarrassed by the reminder that your upper half was still fully exposed to all the hungry prying immortals. When the chains were finally removed, the robot took you by the hand and led you to a small white flying car with a yellow lily drawn on top – the brand was popular among the most powerful members of the Forces.

 “Don’t even think about running away.” K-010 growled when he noticed the way your attention drifted to the nearby road before finally taking your seat. You knew it was pointless now that the tracking device was deep into your skin but deep down you still couldn’t kill the last bit of hope screaming at you to do something before you were too far away to find home again, wherever it was. “If you so much as look outside while we drive, I will use my lasers to turn you into ash. Okay?” You nodded meekly and sank into the soft comfortable seat, wishing that your body would stop shaking in fear but to no avail.

---

 The journey was long and silent but it made you remember the days when music was still allowed and you used to turn the radio all the way up in your mother’s car. You would sing loudly until your throat hurt and your friends would ask you to just shut up and focus on the road. Everything was so normal and happy back then. The stinging nostalgia threatened to overcome so you tried to focus on something else. You finally faced your owner in an attempt to study his appearance. He was probably in his late twenties, his hair white with some black locks here and there, a fashion trend you usually didn’t care much for. You couldn’t afford to bother with your hairstyle when you were constantly running for your life after all. The robotic male had sun-kissed brown skin, he was taller than most human men and his lips seemed softer than most robots’. But the biggest mystery laid in his deep dark eyes, they looked scarlet at first but the more you stared, the easier it was to realize the color was actually brown.

 “Are you a cyborg, K-010?” You asked in a small voice out of the blue, breaking the peace and quiet in the air. The android didn’t spare you much attention with his gaze fixed onto the open sky serving as a road, still he opened his mouth slightly to respond. “My name is Kyle, the numbers are just a formality.” He inhaled sharply as if he was reminiscing a bad memory. “And yes, I am biologically human – just with a few practical upgrades.” You had heard of such people before, the ones willing to become an experiment so they could join the high society oppressing their own neighbors, friends and relatives, setting the lands on fire and destroying the dying environment but you had never met one until today. Honestly, you felt betrayed. It was one thing to be some unfeeling machine’s plaything and entirely another to be owned by someone with a functioning heart even though they weren’t too keen on using it properly.

 “Why would you do that?” You couldn’t stop the question from leaving your lips in the next moment. “You should know what humans have to go through just to stay alive. Today hundreds of us were crushed and sold like some animals! Yet you changed yourself to appeal to their disgusting standards.” You raised your voice, the hot tears already spilling down your cheeks yet again, your fists clenched in pure anger at the foolish greedy man. He simply shook his head and leaned back. “I had my reasons, sweetheart. You don’t know anything.” With that the conversation had ended, you could try and argue or even blame him for being a selfish bastard but it wouldn’t have done you any good so you decided against it. It didn’t matter much anymore.

----

 A few months went by slowly even though time meant little to someone in your position. Living with Kyle wasn’t as terrible as you thought it would be – his mansion was big and spacious, luxurious even. You had your own room and you were allowed to explore the house in your free time. You didn’t have many duties to attend to, your work mostly revolved around cooking, cleaning and keeping company with your owner when he was too tired to keep the robotic mask on and just wanted something sweet, something weak, something more human around. He didn’t want much out of you so you tried to do your best and stay on his good side – there was always a warm meal waiting at the table at night, every window was carefully wiped from the previous dust and the glass was now shining brightly, and you would listen for hours on end to the cyborg’s ramblings no matter how dreadful it could be sometimes.

 But it couldn’t be denied that the man had some odd habits, even if you were to overlook him buying a living being instead of simply hiring a maid. For example, you knew how thin the walls actually were because you could hear him cry almost every night. The half-robot would hold you close any time the news were too loud or a bottle of beer had fallen and shattered on the ground. Still you weren’t allowed to leave his home so all the doors leading to the outside world were locked while he was away or at work. And there were these weird long cuts on his shoulders you had managed to take notice of the first time your master had asked you to bathe him. You hadn’t meant to prey upon his naked form, but the task had been so awkward you needed something to focus on to drive the unpleasant thoughts away. The injuries looked deep and the man would close his eyes any time the soap made contact with them. Finally one day you gathered the courage to ask him what had caused the raw scratches. You were messaging his scalp gently, applying jasmine in his roots, trying to soothe his nerves and get to the information.

 “ ’S not important. ” K-010 answered lazily while arching his back into your touch. More often than not the male would melt under your care and you couldn’t help but wonder just how lonely it was to be neither a human nor a machine. “She is dead now.” He whispered darkly, secretly hoping it wouldn’t reach your ear, yet it did. “Who is dead?” You questioned him after a while, stroking his wet locks until you heard him moan. You were getting better and better at provoking a reaction from the cyborg and despite knowing it was manipulative and a little devious, he was still the ruthless owner who held your one and only life in his palms. You needed to be sneaky if you wanted a safe, comfortable life.

 “My mother.” Kyle added quickly before looking at the blue ceiling, the glossy material copying both of your reflections. The mention of the woman made the sensitive skin of his nape crawl but he kept talking. “The crazy bitch used to beat me every. She even tried to kill me a couple of times.” A slight smile appeared on his full red lips. “It didn’t work out in the end, unfortunately.” So that’s where the cuts were from – he had been violated in his childhood by no other than the person supposed to look after him. You had always hated abusive parents taking advantage of their authority and even now your own imagination made your heart ache at the picture it painted. A small boy being hit over and over until there his whole body was bruised and bloodied. A child with no one to turn to. It didn’t excuse your master’s evil doing but it certainly explained a lot. “Don’t make such a sad face, darling.” He cooed at you, reaching out to pinch your cheek. “I will always be grateful to the Forces since they gave me the power I needed to finally free myself from her grasp. I even buried her myself after everything was said and done.” Kyle grinned from side to side like a little kid waiting to be praised for the picture they had drawn, except now the man was speaking of the way he had murdered his mother. You were at a total loss of words, suddenly too frightened to respond.

 “What’s so special about being a human anyways?” The cyborg grumbled, sounding almost offended of the words you still haven’t said but were definitely thinking deep down. You were staring forward unable to draw away from that one crack in the wall, his words flying above your head. Your confusion was interrupted by the man quickly raising to his knees and catching both of your hands with his strong robotized ones. The cold touch of the metal combined with the camouflage of a soft skin was enough to mess your mind even further into the maze that was his dark gaze. Next thing you knew the male had you pinned on the hard ground, spotlessly clean and reeking of abstergent. You tried to squirm away but the hold of your wrists was too tight and strong to even make your struggling worth the trouble. “Just look at how weak you humans are.” K-010 taunted you, smirking teasingly, cruelly, yet there was something desperate in his eyes, something hidden. “You are so fragile I could probably break you if I were to press harder on your flesh.” He whispered into your ear, breathing down your neck as he dug his icy fingers into your collarbone and made you whimper pathetically at the dull pain. “People are foolish creatures, illogical by nature. They try to fight authority yet the moment they are left with a free choice, they find a way to run from their responsibilities.” The cyborg chuckled maliciously while digging his nails further into your skin.

 “We might be doomed forever because of our emotions but there is something you fail to consider.” You finally spoke out despite your rapid heartbeat and fear so great it could defeat death herself. The predator already had you in his sharp claws and there was no pointing in playing coy anymore. The worst had come to worst. Your words caught the attention of the half-robot and he licked his lips in anticipation to hear what you had to say. “Unlike the androids we can still experience love. And at the end a life without love is a life wasted in the big picture. We might be mortal but you are the ones waiting to die instead of living.” You spat at the man fiercely, ready to face any punishment he would bestow upon your weak tired body for the sheer honesty. Instead he started laughed maniacally, the sound so loud it hit the ceiling and echoed through the house like a pained scream and so violent his shoulders shook to the sides. For the first time his eyes were glowing in a bright red color so saturated and vivid you couldn’t stand to look at them.

 “This is really funny, my little human.” Kyle pronounced carefully, having calmed down. He lowered his head so that his lips were ghosting over yours, just brushing against them. “I belong with neither humans nor robots so why does my chest ache every time I look at you? Tell me, darling, am I in love?” His voice was harsh, husky – as if he was purposely trying to sound evil but the tears in his eyes pointed at another feeling. A raw painful feeling.

 You couldn’t reply not only because you had no idea what to say after the confession but also because you couldn’t breathe properly with his pretty, wicked face so close to yours. Your silence only managed to stir the cyborg up further into his madness and he kissed you roughly, hungrily lapping and biting at your lips until they were sore and bruised, the robotic man more than happy to lick the small drops of blood off. For a moment you considered kicking or shouting for help but there wasn’t anyone willing to in the radius of kilometers. No one of significance cared much about the few remaining mortals. “I could never love you.” You uttered weakly, half – heartedly pushing the man away. You were all alone in this and there wasn’t really a point in fighting someone so much bigger and stronger, yet a sad little part of you hoped that Kyle would leave you alone if you made it clear enough just how much his actions were hurting you.

  “It’s fine if you don’t love me by choice.” Your master replied calmly in a cold piercing voice. His hands were wandering through your form stopping at your hips to draw them into his. The pretty dress you used to like so much was now crumpled and reeking of him, torn apart from your shivering body and thrown away. You wished you could cry but all the adrenaline had left you too uneasy to process the pain and fear. Kyle whispered in your ear while stroking your hair gently and it made you feel like a trembling sheep before a starved butcher. “I own you, little human.” He placed a small kiss on your hot sensitive neck. “And I have enough love for both of us.”

[feral-dumbass]

Speak of the Devil

James “Bucky” Barnes/ Female Reader

Summary: You tag along with Bucky to a undercover reconnaissance mission at a goth club. Smut ensues. 

Includes: Degradation, Choking, little bit of slut shaming, unprotected semi-public sex, hint of cockwarming, dirty talk, oral

Words: 4,307

A/N: This is my first fic I have ever posted on here. I hope I included all the warnings correctly. Not sure if I need to include fingers in mouth, but that happens. Title credit goes to the Misfits. Tagging @gagmebucky​ and @babybluestan​. Thanks for giving me the guts to post this! I am so thankful for you guys. 

Masterlist

The bass of Molchat Doma vibrates the walls as you search for Bucky. When you stepped into the goth club on 66th street, you were more nervous than you liked to admit. The club had recently gone under new management and is rumored to be a place for arms trafficking. It is ingenious, actually. Under all the makeup and leather, anyone could hide their identity. Take Bucky for instance. Tight jeans, a black t-shirt, some eyeliner, and a leather jacket down to his calves, Bucky is unnoticeable. Also, helps that the most identifiable thing about him is covered under gloves. Don’t even get started on the leather band and silver chain wrapped around his neck. You need to fan yourself just thinking about it. 

You also look quite different from your usual lab coat and safety goggles and Bucky has certainly noticed. He could not keep his hand off your thick fishnet covered thighs the whole way here. 

With a kiss to your cheek, Bucky had left you at the bar to check out the area. That had been twenty minutes ago and sadly, people were starting to notice you too. 

You felt eyes on you as you mindlessly scrolled through the meme group chat. Peter and Shuri were having an entertaining fight on who sent the best memes. You couldn’t handle the creepy feeling anymore. You were ready to show this creep the pretty switchblade Bucky got you for your birthday. Chin raised, your eyes met with green ones across the bar. You tried to give your best resting bitch face with dead eyes, but he only smirked and took that as his cue to swoop in. You slammed cash on the table for your blood red drink and slipped into the crowd before he could make two steps in your direction. You went down a hallway in the back which led you to your latest predicament. Where the fuck is your thick ass boyfriend? 

You have enough PHDs under your belt to know not to yell out Bucky’s name. Searching for his wide frame under the neon lights is the only option you have left as you pass the restrooms. You think finding a 6’2” man would be easy, but apparently, every alternative person wears 5 inch platforms. Not like you can really blame them. If they weren’t so expensive, you’d be Bucky’s height too right now. 

As you fill with envy for people that can fit into knee high platforms, an arm wraps around you and yanks you into a unisex bathroom. “It’s me.” Bucky’s deep voice assures before you can even start going through the defense attacks he taught you. You slip out of his hold and turn around to face him. Ignoring the fact Bucky has taken off his jacket and his muscles are now stressing the seams of his long sleeve shirt, you cross your arms. 

“Where have you been?”

Bucky blinks confused before finding his answer. “Bugging this two floor building. Why? What’s wrong?” You will tell him sooner or later. Might as well do it now. 

“Nothing. It’s just, uh, a skeevy man was staring at me far too long. We made eye contact and he tried coming over.” 

“Did he hurt you because I will-” Bucky’s already heading for the door before you squeeze his arm. 

“Bucky,” you laugh astounded that he’s so ready to fight for you. You didn’t even give him a description. Bucky lets you pull him back to the center of the room. “I slipped through the crowd before he could try anything. I’m fine.” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise. I’m fine.” You stand on the tip of your toes to kiss Bucky’s cheek but he turns his head to kiss you instead. He kisses you deeply just long enough to leave you wanting more.

“You still have your knife right?” 

“Yes, you dork.” He visibly relaxes at the confirmation. You take a hold of his chin and turn his face towards you. “You do realize you have cut on your cheek right?” It’s not too bad. A medium cut surrounded by bruising. Super serum is probably at work already healing it, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. It’s not like you’re left with the best of first aid in the bathroom. You head to the sink to wet a paper towel with soap and water. 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” You glare at Bucky through the mirror. “I don’t suggest going three doors down. A couple of guards are sleeping on the clock.” He walks over and cozies up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he kisses your shoulder. “Is that really necessary. I think there’s more pressing matters to attend to.” He rolls his hard on into your ass as he kisses across your shoulder and up your neck. 

“Really?” You pry as you wring out the paper towel.

“I have been hard since you walked out in the commons.” Your face gets warmer at his confession. “I mean-” Bucky groans as he looks down at your fishnet covered legs. 

“While we’re on the subject, the eyeliner is working for me.” You’ve piqued Bucky’s interest. He meets your eyes through the mirror again. “You should wear it more often. You look so much like-”

“If you say Chase from the Covenant, I’m leaving.” Life drains from his eyes as he speaks.

“Like a man who can get into my pants.” 

“Nice save.” 

“Anyways, I say fuck it. Let’s do it.” Bucky’s eyes light up with excitement. “But clean the blood off your face first.” Bucky takes the paper towel out of your hands, scrubs the line of dried blood off his cheek, and throws it in the trash can before you can blink. Bucky turns your face to meet his lips not even a second later. He kisses you even deeper than before slipping his tongue in your mouth. You lift your hand to thread through Bucky’s hair. At the feel of your hand in his hair, he breaks away. 

“No. No. Keep your hands on the sink. I think this could be fun.” He grabs both of your wrists and places your hands on the edge of the sink. He’s moving your hair off your neck before his lips connect with it. “So pretty, baby. Is this all for me?” He mumbles before placing a hickey on your neck. His hands squeeze your thighs before snaking up your torso and kneading your breasts through your top. Lost in the pleasure only Bucky can give, you assume his question is rhetorical. You learn it wasn’t as he stops his ministrations. “Is this mine?”

You scramble to find your words. “Yeah.” Your voice cracks. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” He looks directly into your eyes through the stickered mirror as he unzips the front of your top. Bucky brings his gloved hand up to your mouth. “Bite,” He mumbles before planting multiple kisses on your neck. 

You bite down on his index finger and he pulls his hand away, leaving the glove in your mouth. He quickly takes the glove, stuffing it in his back pocket, before his right hand is kneading one of your bare breasts. You sigh at the feel of his calloused hand on your soft skin. You get a moment to enjoy the feeling until Bucky is lifting his other gloved hand toward your mouth. You get the memo without having to be told. You help tear off his glove for his metal hand and he’s stuffing it in his back pocket again. Instead of going for your other breast, two of Bucky’s metal fingers tap on your bottom lip. 

It is not like you to deny him. You take his fingers in his mouth and suck on them, giving them the same attention you’d give his dick. Bucky leaves the growing patch of hickies on your neck to growl at the sight. “Such a fucking tease.” His metal fingers press down on your tongue making you take his fingers deeper. He let’s up when he knows you are about to choke. “Can’t wait to get inside you, but first I want to see you cum on my fingers. Would you like that, honey?” His right hand leaves your chest and plays with the hem of your short skirt. 

With his fingers still in your mouth,  you nod, widen your stance, and back your ass up into his crotch. He chuckles lowly right next to your ear before his right hand is yanking up your skirt. Your skin tight skirt barely budges with one hand. 

“You gotta be kidding me?” Bucky takes his metal hand out of your mouth and uses it to yank up your skirt. You pray to whoever’s listening that your horny boyfriend doesn’t rip your bottoms off. It’d make getting out of the club a lot more messier. “This skirt is annoying me. You’ll just have to be naked for a week to make it up to me.” Thankfully, your skirt moves up your body to bunch at your waist. You don’t have time for a witty retort or to even think about how you were airborne for a second before Bucky is digging his metal fingers into your sex. At the feel of fishnet over wet folds, he pauses. “Wait, are you-”

“Not wearing panties? Yep.” 

He lets out the longest groan to date. “You’re gonna kill me.” Bucky tears open a hole in your stockings at the apex of your thighs before massaging and digging into your sex with vengence. “That’s what you’re gonna do. Forget all the highrisks missions. The stupid fucking guards. I’m gonna die because my girlfriend can’t wear a fucking decent pair of underwear.” Bucky groans and he’s… he’s being unfair as two of his thick metal fingers slip into you. He knows how much you love it when he uses his metal hand. Bucky is using it against you to sear his touch into your brain. You throw your head back onto his shoulder as he reaches sensitive depths inside you. His right hand goes back to kneading your chest.

“Wearing panties makes it harder f-for… for you to fuck me. Need to be prepared for your horny ass 24/7.” You pant in between words. Bucky raises an unimpressed eyebrow. The speed of his pumping fingers quicken to the point where the both of you can hear how wet you are over the distant music. “W-when are you not… horny?”

“I’m not even going to entertain you with an answer when I have this wet pussy to play with. ‘Sides, I’m not the one who sounds horny right now. “ Bucky’s metal thumb rubs your clit. “I’m not the one desperate enough for my boyfriend’s cock that I'll spread my legs in a public bathroom. Honestly, you just went with it? No second thoughts?” You’re too overwhelmed with pleasure to even bother a response. Bucky clicks his tongue. “That’s not good girl behavior. More like slutty behavior.” Bucky’s eyes light up with an idea. “Be a good slut and cum for me.”

“Bucky,” you gasp pleadingly. 

“C’mon, you heard me. Cum for me. It’s the least you can do.” He’s sucking on a pulse point on your neck when you go rigid underneath him. You cry out as you reach your euphoric high. 

“God damnit, you’re so gorgeous when you cum.” Bucky makes you feel the full effect of your orgasm as he continues to pump his fingers and rub your clit. You have to practically tear his metal arm off you to get peace. Both of his hands leave you and you can hear the tell tale sound of his pants being undone. 

You get a small amount of reprieve before Bucky is rubbing his dick through your drenched folds. His thick cock stimulating your sensitive nerves. Bucky’s steel toed boot nudges your stance wider and he’s dipping into your entrance just enough for you to start to feel the intoxicating stretch of him. You’re arching your back at the burn when he pulls out suddenly. You sputter as you try to find your words. 

“I don’t think you really want my cock.” He goes back to spreading your folds over his cock. The tip runs across your sensitive, overworked clit every once in a while.

“I’m literally on display for your fucking dick right now.” 

“Then say it.” Bucky nuzzles your neck and blows cool air on the patch of hickies. 

“Bucky, please fuck me. I’ve been wet since you mentioned you had to wear a leather jacket. Let me have it.” 

Bucky snorts at that. “My sweet slut. Always so ready and willing for my cock.” 

“Only a s-slut-” Bucky slides into you slowly making you feel every massive inch of him  “- f-for you.” You whimper at the feel of him as your back arches. You're trapped in between Bucky and the sink. No choice but to feel all of him. 

Bucky rumbles right against your back. “My own little whore. I like the sound of that.” He tests the waters by thrusting shallow. You’re convulsing around his cock. It always takes a few to get used to the initial stretch. He groans. “Always so fucking tight. My own personal heaven.” He hasn’t been able to stop his little thrusts, addicted to the feel of you. 

“B-Bucky,” you gasp strained. “P-please, move. Do something.” 

“Look at you so desperate for my cock. I love it. Such a good whore.” He pulls out and you could cry until he’s thrusting back in, knocking the wind out of you. You gasp, collecting enough air for him to knock it out of you again. Again. And again. It’s not before long, Bucky is setting a brutal pace and all you can do is take it. You are going lax as the pleasure makes your extremities tingly. Bucky is pretty much the only thing holding you up as he brings three of his right fingers towards your mouth. He doesn’t even have to tap on your lips. You open your mouth for him to slip his fingers inside and suck on them. Bucky’s eyes zero in on your pretty lips wrapped around his fingers. 

“What a good slut. Such a good girl. I love you so much.” His metal hand gently wraps around the base of your neck. His index finger and thumb stroke the skin right underneath your choker causing goosebumps to break out. “This looks so pretty on you, baby.” He kisses the spot your jawline and neck connect before continuing. “I think we both know how much better my hand is wrapped around your neck though.” He gives a light squeeze, slightly cutting off your blood flow, and grins at you. A broken moan leaves you as drool pools around his fingers starting to drip down his hand and your chin. “So fucking stunning. Should have got out my phone before we started.”

A light, airy feeling starts to creep into your head, kind of like your floating. Bucky’s pace never lets up and you’re close. So, so close.  A few more thrusts and Bucky is reaching new depths. You’re knuckles strain as you grip the sink hard. 

“Shit.” He grunts. His fingers press down on your tongue not give a fuck if you gag. Your eyes widen as his warmth floods you. Bucky’s pace slows and he’s pumping his hips shallowly while he cums.

 As much as you love the bare feel of him, you’re pissed. You were so close to an orgasm and he stopped. It was without clittoral stimulation too. It was gonna be groundbreaking. You actually gag on the pressure of his fingers down your throat and smack his wet wrist. He quickly takes his fingers out of your mouth and apologizes. You can’t believe you're stomping your foot while still on your boyfriend’s dick, but there’s a first for everything. You’re actually pouting as you cross your arms over your bare chest and jut out your lower lip. 

“Bucky!” You wait for him to take his eyes off your ass and meet yours through the mirror. 

He smacks your ass, squeezes it, and hums, mildly distracted. “Yeah?” He glances up and does a double take. “You’re pissed?”

“Uh yeah. Do you know how close I was before you ruined it? I-” Bucky takes his hand off your throat and uses both to dig his thumbs in the dip of your back as he shushes you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you.” You’re frustrated and slightly on edge when Bucky slowly pulls out. “Don’t get more upset, but that was literally the hottest thing we’ve done. You have never looked hotter.” 

“Why would I get upset when I feel the same.” You begrudgingly agree. 

“Oh my god, you’re gonna hold not letting you come against me. You’re such a baby.” You open your mouth to defend yourself, but Bucky turns you around and lifts you on to the edge of the sink before you can start. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at that manhandling and you ignore it. While you avoid his eyes and glare at the wall over his shoulder, he wipes some of the drool off your chin. You melt on the inside and try not to show it. If you look in his eyes, you’re going to forgive him. If you look into his eyes, you’re going to forgive him. “This is ridiculous. When have I ever left you hanging? Don’t you think maybe I had a plan?” Your eyes slowly slide over to his. His eyes, still darkened by lust, bore into you. “I don’t want to see you cum on my cock through the mirror. I want you to face me, eyes rolled back, mouth gaping as I repeatedly reach all the sensitive spots inside you.” 

“You’re the one that’s the fucking tease.” You smack his broad chest. He takes your hand and kisses each knuckle. His hand then goes to knead your thighs dangling off the edge. 

“So, what do you say? Second round?” 

“I can’t believe I am saying this, but I’m sexually frustrated and still slightly mad. Fuck me before someone comes in.” He wedges himself between your thick thighs. Bucky leans down to kiss you and you thread your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck, happy to get to touch him.  He eventually stops kneading your thighs, just feeling the texture of the mesh stretched across your skin. 

Bucky groans as you nip at his lips when he pulls away. His head drops down and shakes it in disbelief.  “You need to wear these more often.” He looks very serious at you and you would snicker if you weren’t about to fuck. You do smirk at him though and swirl his hair between your fingers. 

“You gonna fuck me in public more often if I do?” You wipe some of your burgundy lipstick off the edge of his bottom lip as you ask. 

Bucky’s Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. “I-is that what you want?” He’s grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to the edge. You can feel his hardening cock against your hip. You’re so close to Bucky, you lean in just a few inches to press your chest against his and whisper sultry in his ear.

“I am constantly ready for your cock. Twenty four seven. Name a place and I’ll spread my legs. So fucking big. Feels so damn good.” You kiss right underneath his ear and then move a few inches down to suck hickey on a soft spot of his neck. With super soldier recovery rate, it won’t last long, but it sure does rile him up. He moans and it echoes off the linoleum poster covered walls. You love the vibrations underneath your lips as he tilts his head to the other side. You know his eyes are fluttering as you can’t help but to give him a few others hickies next to it. 

You lean back to admire your handiwork. Purple blotches litter his neck in between smudges of burgundy lipstick. You’re pretty sure you’ve wiped off all your lipstick on Bucky. His blown out pupils watch you like a hawk, hands digging into your ass. He’s rubbing his hard on into the crease of your stomach and thighs and he doesn’t even know it. “C’mon, I want to feel the ache of you tomorrow. Fuck me like the whore that I am.” You feel a chill run down his spine before he finally takes action. 

He rolls up his sleeves and of course, because your chest is now facing him, he needs to leave a few hickies on them. As he guides his dick to your entrance, you wrap your legs around his waist. Bucky momentarily ceases the hickies to watch your puffy folds easily accept his wide cock. Both of you are groaning at the feeling. 

“Your pussy’s so wet for me. Fuck.” Bucky’s too turned for a filter. You keep your edging comment to yourself and kiss his sweaty temple. The edging thoughts stewing inside are knocked out of you as Bucky fingers trace the place you two are joined. He uses the excess of your combined wetness to rub your clit. Pleasure makes your toes curl. 

“Not what I meant when I said fuck me, Bastard.” You can’t get Bucky to move his hips without falling on your ass. He seems perfectly fine to have you warm his hard dick as he kisses and leaves hickies along your collar bones. Your free hand grabs his bicep and you’re close to coming already. 

“Yeah. Your bastard.” You can feel him grin against your skin. You’d comment if you weren’t about to cum. 

“C-close. Please don’t stop.” You gasp out, begging as the rise of your orgasm hits. You’re squeezing Bucky while in your peak. He almost groans as loud as you’re moaning.

“You’re so gorgeous. Love when you convulse around my cock, honey.” He kisses your cheek momentarily before going back down to your chest. He starts pumping his cock in and out of you. This time literally knocking the wind out of you. You’re oversensitive from your orgasm and he never truly let you come down from it. Bucky is certainly making his promise. You’ll feel him in your guts for the next few days. Your hands run through his hair and pull on the ends. His mouth finally detaches from your chest as he moves with your hand. He lets out a full blown out moan that makes your heart pound. Bucky always lets out the filthiest moans when you pull his hair. You fucking love it. His metal hand leaves your ass. He grabs a hold of the edge of the sink as he pace picks up. 

As much as you love filling all your wet dreams with the hottest audio ever, you don’t have the strength to keep your arm up for long. Your hand drops to his back. His muscles ripple underneath your fingertips as you dig your nails into his back. Both of you panting into each other's ear. Your legs shake at the approaching orgasm. 

“I know you’re close. Be a good whore. Cum on my cock. I’ll wait for you.” He rubs your clit even faster. 

“FUCK.” You’ve never been happier for loud music blasting through the club’s speakers. An intense orgasm takes over you. White dots fill your vision as tears collect at your waterline. With how hard your gripping his cock, Bucky isn’t far behind. He can only get in a few more thrusts before he’s cumming again. He bites into your shoulder and groans. Shivers wreck down your spine as his warmth fills you for the second time tonight. Bucky lets the sink carry his weight as he grips it hard. 

There’s a groaning protest before a chunk of the sink falls off. You’re there to block him from falling. He pulls out and moves you closer to the other edge, away from the crime scene. You look over your shoulder. Thankfully, he didn’t break off any of the major plumbing parts. Water spraying everywhere would make looking yourself presentable a lot more harder, but maybe that could have been your excuse. Oh well. 

You turn back to Bucky. He’s still holding on to the broken piece of sink. Both of you break out into giggles as he throws it in the trash. 

“I can’t believe you did that.” You’re grinning ear to ear as he tucks himself back into his boxers. 

“I can.” Bucky shrugs. “I don’t think you get how tight you get when you cum. Me breaking things during sex is not new.” 

“My back. Our nice bed frame. The ottoman in the commons… Can’t forget the multiple tables. Shout out to Tony’s dented Acura hood.” You pull Bucky’s shirt to get him closer to you. You kiss him before he speaks. “Are you trying to seduce me?” 

“If you fuck me again, there won’t be a sink left.” 

He hums and rubs your thighs. He’s definitely addicted to the feel of the fishnets stockings. Good luck trying to get his hands off you for the rest of the day. “You have a point.” He drops to his knees. 

“What are you doing?” He’s spreading your thighs wide in front of his face.

“I can’t let my cum drip down your legs out there. That would be irresponsible of me.” That's all the explanation you get before he’s burying his face in between your legs, stubble scratching your inner thighs. You gasp as he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. Fuck what he said. You’re the one that’s gonna die. Bucky is truly your horny bastard. 

[drowningbydegrees]

TITLE: Even in the Dark I Know You (Part 1 of 3) SHIP (if applicable): Geraskier PROMPT DAY: Four - Betrayal MEDIUM (Netflix, Books, Games, Hexer): Netflix WARNINGS: No archive warnings apply, but canon typical violence SUMMARY: 

The thing is, he’s seen Geralt in a bad way. Even the witcher can’t always avoid injury in his line of work, and so Jaskier has plenty of practice patching him up. But this is new, and it makes something awful and anxious twist in Jaskier’s stomach. 

A contract goes wrong leaving Geralt captive and stripped of most of his senses by the time Jaskier gets to him.

WORD COUNT: 2,142 AUTHOR’S NOTES: Written for @geraltwhumpweek Part two will cover the prompt for day five and part three for day six. Ultimately, it’s hurt/comfort, but the comfort is later.

AO3 Link 

“I can’t thank you enough.” By all accounts, the mage’s smile is kind. Her soft doe eyes paint a picture of good natured innocence as she meets Geralt’s gaze. If he’d been younger or more naive, he might have taken her at face value, but he hasn’t survived this long without recognizing that mages, just like the rest of humanity, are very rarely what they appear to be. He takes in the softened features of a face trapped in eternal youth, framed with golden hair that falls in waves, and wonders idly what the truth of her is. 

Whatever she’s playing at, his patience is running thin. Everything seems normal enough, from the absurdly ornate chandelier that lights up the library to the rug rolled out across the stone floor, but he’s still eager to be done with the contract and on his way. Geralt doesn’t smile. “The only thanks I need is payment so I can be on my way.” 

“Right to the point. Of course.” She gets up from the armchair she’s been lounging in, with an easy grace that might be as manufactured as the rest of her. It’s only when she glides closer, holding out a bag of coin, that Geralt realizes there’s a problem after all. 

He begins to reach out to take it, but freezes halfway there, finding he cannot so much as curl his fingers into a fist. Thinking perhaps it’s a matter of proximity, Geralt tries to put some distance between them, but his feet refuse to be any more cooperative. 

“It’s under the rug, my dear. Even if you could move, you won’t smudge the lines enough to escape.” Her voice never loses its warmth, might even sound like sympathy coming from anyone else. 

Geralt tries to demand an explanation, to growl out a threat, something. The only sound that passes his lips is a wheezed out breath. 

“I’m terribly sorry. I’d much rather you had been someone less upstanding so I could justify just killing you and being done with the whole debacle,” the mage explains, and it seems like a very strange line to draw. She doesn’t look all that sorry anyway when she finally stands within his line of vision. “But you see, there are two of us who know what I contracted you for and that is just… one too many.” 

Geralt can’t reply. He can’t even jerk his head away when her long, nimble fingers skim his cheek, cradling his jaw the way a lover might. “No hard feelings, I hope.” 

It’s the last thing Geralt hears before silence descends, oppressive in the finality of it. The witcher falls into darkness, and then there is nothing. He cannot so much as utter a complaint as she strips him of his armor and weapons. 

***

Lost in the dark and the quiet, without even his sense of smell to keep track of his surroundings, everything blurs together. There’s no telling what the mage claims his crime is, but it must be heinous if the way he finds himself dragged along is any indication. Every instinct demands that he fight back, but escape would be momentary at best, so he lets them take him away, instead focusing on breaking through whatever spell the mage cast. They traverse a long hallway Geralt hasn’t been down, and he presses against the thing holding him. For a moment it shudders and the darkness brightens from pitch black to the less impenetrable color of the night sky. It’s not much, but it’s progress, a suggestion he might break through. 

He’s running out of time, Geralt realizes as he trips over a downward step he cannot see. Taking a breath, he tries again, ignoring the guards’ rough treatment in favor of straining to see the steps he’s being led down. The world is still veiled, but it’s taken on an ashen cast. 

After so much silence, the water dripping off to his right is deafening. It’s slow, each droplet echoing against the stone floor of what he assumes is a dungeon. The sound is only important in that it is a beacon he can strain towards. 

And it’s progress. Sort of. Soon, the clanking of armored feet surrounding him reaches Geralt’s ears. There are at least a dozen guards blocking both the path ahead and behind. Geralt can pinpoint where they are though, and one bright, shining moment, that’s enough. Even with his senses skewed, Geralt of Rivia is a force to be reckoned with. 

He does not know what tale the mage spun about him but it must have been terrible, truly. Aside from wanton cruelty, it’s the only explanation for the way the guards respond when Geralt jerks out of the grip they have on him. As if they’d only been waiting for an excuse, they descend upon him. 

Whatever their intent, a dozen isn’t nearly enough. Geralt moves deftly now that he can hear them. Weaponless though he is, Geralt is really only as unarmed as a witcher can ever be. It’s second nature to duck away from a blade thrust in his direction, leveraging the momentum to kick one of the guards down the rest of the stairs. 

It’s not victory Geralt wants, but escape, so when outlines begin to form in his hazy vision, the witcher only uses his slowly recovering senses to steer clear of the guards. He races back up the steps, towards a nebulous light that must be the hallway of the palace proper. If he can just reach that... 

“Enough.” The mage’s voice is the last thing he hears before his senses are ripped from him once more. In the whiplash of it all, he doesn’t realize one of the guards is at his back until there’s a sword run through his side. 

“Fuck.” Is somehow far less satisfying when he can’t even hear himself say it. 

---

Jaskier cringes inwardly as he realizes how much of this rescue was dumb luck. It’s lucky that the horse he finally got around to acquiring meant seeing Roach in the stable or he’d have moved on after the first night. It’s lucky that Jaskier is charming enough that the mage pursued him. It’s lucky that said mage was fool enough to stash Geralt’s swords in her chambers. Most of all, it’s lucky that the lord she serves, the lord Jaskier gambled on pressing about all this, didn’t know what she’d done and was utterly appalled. Granted, the horror might have only been that it was that particular witcher and that this particular bard learned about the whole mess, but Jaskier cares very little about why it worked. Only that it did. 

The thing is, he’s seen Geralt in a bad way. Even the witcher can’t always avoid injury in his line of work, and so Jaskier has plenty of practice patching him up. But this is new, and it makes something awful and anxious twist in Jaskier’s stomach. Most of the wounds look to be healing, but Jaskier has seen enough to know how truly awful they must have been in the beginning to look like this now. The bruises are almost worse, even though they’ve begun to fade into a sickly green. 

Bad as Geralt looks, what’s truly alarming is something else entirely. The witcher doesn’t so much as glance in their direction when they descend the stairs. He continues to stare at nothing as they approach. Geralt doesn’t even seem to notice the loud clank of the dimeritium cuffs around the mage’s wrists, or the banging of metal against stone as the armor her escorts are wearing walk through the dungeon. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier says anyway as the guard unlocks the cell, but there’s no more reply to that then to anything else. Furious, the bard, turns on the mage. “What have you done to him?”

“It was only supposed to be for a few moments, long enough to bring him here, but he fought through it faster than I anticipated.” The mage shrugs as if it doesn’t even matter, and Jaskier wants nothing more than to strangle her. “I had to fix it.”

“What. Have. You. Done?” Jaskier bites out again, and only the fact that he doesn’t know has kept him from opening the cell already. There’s magic in this, and he doesn’t want to make it worse. 

“I had to muzzle his senses for a while. I was neutralizing a threat,” she says, as if her reason somehow excuses the horror she’s visited upon Geralt. “Relax. It’ll pass in time.” 

Jaskier sucks in a breath because he knows a thing or two about witchers. As keen as Geralt’s senses are, the loss of them must be devastating. Worse than that, if they all come back in a rush, it may well be agonizing. He can’t fix that, but he can at least make sure it doesn’t happen here. Satisfied that he’s not going to set off some trap or hurt Geralt inadvertently, Jaskier yanks open the door and steps inside. 

If Jaskier could have possibly missed Geralt’s hamstrung senses before, there’s no doing so now. The witcher doesn’t so much as twitch when the barred door creaks open. Jaskier drops to his knees on the dirty floor of the cell, but Geralt still stares straight ahead, clearly seeing nothing. Jaskier’s heart feels like it’s clutched in a blacksmith’s vice as he searches for a way to alert Geralt to his presence without startling the. There’s nothing for it though, so Jaskier sighs out a resigned breath and reaches out to touch Geralt’s shoulder. 

It’s not surprising in the slightest that Geralt’s immediate response is to go on the offensive, but Jaskier still lets out a rather undignified squeak when he finds himself on the receiving end of it. Even blind, Geralt has the capacity to be deadly, effortlessly pinning Jaskier on his back. Instinctively, Jaskier’s hand covers Geralt’s where it rests on his throat, trying to pry the witcher’s fingers free. Geralt is clearly restraining himself, even now, even when he must think Jaskier is the enemy, but better not to risk him changing his mind.

“No, leave him!” Jaskier insists when a heavy clanking from beyond the cell alerts him that the skittish guards mean to come to his aid. Fraught as the situation is, their interference would only complicate things further. While he doesn’t really fancy putting himself at the mercy of an angry, confused witcher, Jaskier cannot bear the idea of making things any worse for Geralt. 

It’s that act of compassion that pays off. Whatever state he’s in, Geralt is clever, and it doesn’t take him long to notice Jaskier isn’t fighting back. The pressure on Jaskier’s throat disappears as Geralt’s fingers stray to trace the line of his jaw instead. They linger at the hinge of it, Geralt’s brows scrunching in confusion. “Jaskier?”

At least like this Geralt can feel him nod, so Jaskier does, probably a little too enthusiastically. That should be the end of it, but of course nothing is ever just the end of anything where they’re concerned. Geralt shifts to let Jaskier up, but makes no move to get to his feet. 

“Idiot,” he mutters instead. “How the hell did you get yourself stuck down here.” 

“You know, out of the kindness of my heart, I’m not going to mention how rich that is coming from the person I’m here to rescue,” Jaskier grumbles, reaching to take Geralt’s hand in his. “Well, and because it takes all the joy out of proving you wrong when you can’t even hear me.” 

Geralt scowls when Jaskier’s fingers brush against his. “You have to get out of here.” 

“I am. With you,” Jaskier protests before remembering Geralt still can’t hear him. Geralt of course doesn’t move. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Jaskier casts about for something, anything to get his point across. Geralt won’t budge when Jaskier tries to yank him to his feet, and the bard is nearly desperate enough to enlist the help of the guards when he remembers they’d brought the witcher’s belongings with them. 

In the end, that’s what does it. Geralt might not understand Jaskier, but he recognizes the hilt of his sword immediately judging by the way his eyebrows climb. This time, when Jaskier tries to urge Geralt to stand, the witcher goes willingly, even if he sways a little when he gets there. 

“Right, good,” Jaskier murmurs, trying very hard not to see the vicious looking gash in Geralt’s side, or the dark, weary smudges under his eyes. The prospect of trying to lead the way back to the inn is a daunting one, but even though Geralt cannot see, Jaskier only lets the easy smile that graces his lips fall away once his back is turned. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

[marvelous-imagines]

Brightest star

Starlord/Peter quill x reader!

Summary: being friends with Peter ever since the reader and he was both young, the reader had grown feelings for him, a rather large crush. Things never changed when they was both abducted and became guardians of the galaxy....

Warnings: language. Slight Angst. Fluff

You couldn't help but watch with growing annoyance at your friend, watching how he shamelessly flirts with gamora. You scoff when he leans closer to her, clearly annoying her, as he tried to flirt his way into her heart. You tear your angered eyes off the two and watch the zooming star's among the galaxy, rocket piloting the ship through space skillfully.

"why are you glaring at the stars like they murdered you're whole family?" rocket asks, making you look at him with a deep sigh.

"I'm not!" you retort as you began playing with the necklace Peter gifted you a few years ago for your birthday, the pendent a little replica of saturn, the word's 'to the brightest star in the whole galaxy' engraved on the rings of the planet. Although you found it to be a little cliché, considering you was both in space, you loved it. It was the best gift ever.

"yes you are, why are lying?" he said bringing you out of the memory of how you got the necklace. "what's up?" he asks genuinely concerned about you, especially since you wasn't one for really letting anger get to you. You always opted for a less violent suggestion of things, which you found to be hard when with the crew you called friends.

"nothings wrong rocket, I'm just -

"pissed at the stars?" he cut your words off with a snicker. You roll your eyes and shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the feeling of utter sadness and anger.

"I'm not pissed at the stars... I'm pissed at starlord" you grumbled quietly but rocket heard, the fury little raccoon looks over his shoulder at peter and gamora, the woman taking her knee and hitting Peter in the stomach making him groan and fall to the floor while she walks off. Rocket snickering, looks back at you, oblivious to the what just happened.

"you ain't the only pissed at him" he said, groot agreeing with a amused smile, "but even though we all get pissed at him all the time, it's a bit unusual for you to be, what'd he do?" rocket prys. You look away from the necklace and at rocket, sighing when you realize you can't tell rocket your in love with Peter, he'd instantly tell or laugh at you...just the thought was embarrassing. So you just stand up from your seat walking away, heading to the little storage closet you call a bedroom. But on your way there peter tried talking to you, asking for help or something.

But you ignored him and shut your door behind you. Sulking away in your room....

Watching from the floor with confusion and in great pain, Peter stood up, clutching at his hurt stomach watching y/n slam the door shut behind her. He lifts a curious questioning brow at drax who had been laughing hysterically at peter and gamora.

"what's her problem?" Peter asks, never really having seen his best friends angry side. That was unusual for the usually calm and peace baring woman. Drax wipes tears from his eyes from how hard he was laughing at peter.

"maybe she's just tired" the large man spoke breathlessly little chuckles escaping from him. Peter rolls his eyes and slightly limps over to the cockpit of the ship, spotting rocket and groot arguing about something.

"hey, do you two now what's up with y/n, she seems mad about something?" Peter asks, groot looks to rocket and rocket looks up at peter with a shrug.

"she told me she was pissed at you, that's you're problem to solve quill" the raccoon focuses back on the galaxy in front of him as he pilot's the ship.

"pissed at me? What the hell did I do?!" he exclaimed with confusion, last time he checked he hasn't done anything wrong, nor has he said anything insulting about her. He would never do that, he cared about y/n to much to speak anything negative about her.

"like I said quill, that's you're problem to solve" rocket repeated himself. Peter sighs muttering sarcastically about what great help rocket was. But before Peter could walk away rocket turns around to face him fully in the pilot seat. Eye's fixated on the star-lord, "just to throw you a bone quill, I think it has something to do with your insistent flirting with gamora" Peter looks at the fury small raccoon with a deep confused expression.

"why would that bother her?" he spoke with a seriousness, something uncommon for Peter.

"perhaps because she cares about you, somehow..." rocket said his last sentence with disgust as he looks over peter with a grimace.

Offended peter flips rocket the bird and walks off, that only made rocket laugh, "what a loser" he muttered while continuing his duty.

Laid out on the small uncomfortable cot, you look over the pendent with a frown. When Peter had first given it to you, you had thought he was going to kiss you, it was a wonderful memory, the best day of your life actually...

The stars was beautiful in the galaxy, a pink and dark purple dust floating around the galaxy. You watched out of the large windshield of the spaceship, everyone else asleep as you and Peter was the only one's up. You nearly jump when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, you look only to be greeted with the gentle soft green with swirling brown eye's staring down at you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"I didn't mean to startle you birthday girl" he said quietly as he takes his seat beside you back in the pilot seat. "which reminds me, here's a little present for you, it's not much but he kinda reminded me of you" he digs around in his pocket until he found a horribly wrapped small box, handing it to you.

You take it and smile at him widely, "Peter you didn't have to get me anything" you told him. He shrugs and urges you to open it all the while watching you with anticipation. That made you smile even more as you tore it open, eye's lighting up with admiration at the necklace inside. You pull it out and look at the planet shaped necklace with a fond smile. Looking over at peter with a pure love.

"Peter... It's perfect, I love it! Thank you so much!" you excitedly exclaimed, he shrugs once more with a little laugh when you jump from your seat and practically yank him up and into a tight warm hug.

"you haven't even read the engraving on it yet" he laughs at you, you pull back slightly, still rather close as your chests nearly touched. You look over the pendent and spot writing on the ring, "to the brightest star in the galaxy..." he muttered as you read it. You felt a wave of emotions wash over you, tears swimming in your eye's as you felt touched by his gift...

He looked down at you with a look only one could describe as love, his green eye's locked on yours as he placed his hand on your waist, face inching closer to your own. Your heart was pounding, beating against your chest in anticipation, the longing you've felt for Peter threatened to escape, the urge to just grab him by his shirt and close the distance between you both was tempting. But you wanted him to go at his own pace, to let your lips meet slowly.

But it never came, he pushed you away, said happy birthday and went back to sit in the pilot seat, ignoring you for days after that....

You sigh and jump out of your skin when you hear a knock on the door frame, knuckles rasping against metal. You look up only to see the red haired man you really didn't want to see right now.

"a little sarcastic, slightly on the major dick weed side, raccoon told me you was pissed at me" he spoke, watching your expression carefully. You sigh and roll your eyes, of course rocket told him.

"just get out peter, I don't want to see right now" you spoke bitterly, looking away from him as you sat up in bed, hands gripping the edges of it tightly as you look down at the ground.

Walking inside the room and closing the door behind him, he walks so now he's standing in front of you, speaking once more much to your dismay.

"that same sarcastic dickweed told me that you might be mad at me because of the fact that you think I'm flirting with gamora, when clearly I'm not-

"think you're flirting?! Peter you're totally flirting with her! What do you take me as stupid!?" you stand up yelling at him, the pent up anger rolling out of you. Peter's eyes go wide with a slight panic as he shakes his head.

"what? No, no! You're not stupid, I don't think you are -

"then why lie to me? Everyone knows that you flirt with gamora on a daily basis!" you yell while pointing a finger at him, jabbing it into his muscular chest.

"I don't know! Because she's hot?!" he says with a raised confused and questioning voice. You stare at him as tears swell up in your eye's. Of course he would say that, gamora was beautiful, gorgeous and a total badass. What was you? A quiet, scared of everything loser. You couldn't never compare to gamora...it was only necessary for the flirtatious handsome man you had as a friend to find her attractive. How could Peter love you when he had her?

You felt all anger wash away, staring into those soft green eyes with a hint of brown swirling amongst the beautiful orbs. "then what the hell are you doing in here when you can be out there with her?" you ask quietly, voice breaking a bit. You felt as if your heart had been ripped out of your chest and ripped into a million peices.

"no, y/n that's not what I meant - that's far from what I was trying to say..." he tried to explain himself only to trail off at the tears streaming down your face, "why are you crying?" he asks softly, concern dripping from his voice.

You hadn't even noticed that you was crying until then. You wipe your tears away roughly and turn away from Peter, "just get out" you whimper. But he places a large hand on your shoulder spinning you around and wrapping his arms around you, holding you close as you cry into his chest.

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me... What's wrong?" he asks softly yet sternly. You wait a few minutes calming down some before answering him, taking in how he gently sways you both while humming a song. It makes your heart ache, knowing that you was going to tell him the truth, knowing he wouldn't talk to you afterwards....

"I - I really care about you peter..." you force out and he stops, brows netted in confusion as he cups your cheek and makes you look up at him.

"and I care about you y/n... Explain why you're crying?" he said and you sigh, annoyance bubbling up inside you once more at how oblivious he was.

"Peter, I mean I really, really care about you..." you whisper while looking up at him, eye's glistening with tears as realization starts to sparkle in his own.

"oh, like a more then friends type of thing..." he said, and you nod, looking away from him as your lip trembles. He didn't feel the same and now you ruined your friendship.

"I'm sorry, this stupid - I'm stupid for saying anything -

"y/n slow down! You're not stupid" he laughs at your rambling grabbing your face in both his hands gently making you look up at him, his gaze glued to you, "I love you..." he muttered, the truth behind his words couldn't be mistaken. You feel your heart being mended and fluttering at his confession.

"I love you too" you whisper back with a blooming smile, Peter chuckles while pressing his forehead against yours, nose bumbling yours in a loving way.

"I wanted to tell you the day I gave you that necklace... But I chickened out" he confessed eye's closing as your flutter shut as well.

"that would have been the best birthday present ever" you tell him with a little smile, he let's a breathy laugh escape his lips, breath fanning against your face.

"what if I had kissed you?" he teases, swaying you both. You feel your heart pounding against your chest, eye's opening to look at him only to find he had been gazing at you... You bring a hand up to delicately carress his red scruff adorning his cheeks. The little hairs tickling your palm.

"then it would have been the best day of my entire life..." you whisper, watching how his eye's fall to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he looks back into your eye's.

"can I kiss you?"

"you don't even have to ask"

And with that said, he pressed his lips against yours. His lips was soft, dancing with yours in a slow loving dance. He tasted sweet, like honey with a mixture of something utterly him. You melt into the kiss, loving every second as he wraps his arm around your waist as his hand on your cheek brings you closer, deepening the kiss by nibbling at your bottom lip. Just as you are about to a part your lips the sound of someone dramatically gagging makes you and Peter part, breaking the kiss reluctantly.

You blush madly, Peter holding you against him with a arm slung around you, your cheek pressed against his chest. You both look at the door seeing rocket standing their with a face of disgust.

"oh my God! I'm gonna puke! Get a room you two!" rocket exclaimed while gagging. You and Peter both roll your eyes.

"we have a room rodent and you're standing in it!" Peter pointed out while rocket grimaced.

"I thought it was mine asshole!" he fired back, shaking his head, "I'll never be able to erase that horrific disgusting image out of brain, quill and y/n sucking each other's faces off...." rocket grumbled while walking away leaving the door open. You giggle a little bit as Peter yells after him.

"you could have shut the door at least!" he yelled, shaking his head as he looks down at you with a smirk, "now where were we?" he starts leaning down to kiss you, only to stop midway when drax enters your room.

"the tiny rodent blew my room up with a gun misfire, I have to sleep in here with y/n" he spoke while casually throwing a pillow and blanket on the floor and laying down. Looking at you and Peter, "you can continue" he said.

"dude?! What's is wrong with you?!. Jesus christ.... Okay y/n were going to my room" Peter said, taking your hand and leading you out of the room. You giggle and feel a happiness fill your heart that you've missed dearly. Who would ever thought peter quill would actually love you back.....

A/n: I hope whoever reads this enjoys it! Also I'm taking up requests for any marvel characters if anyone wants to request?

[jaspers-levis]

Continuation One: Wildfire

Continuation of Coffee Shop AU

Taking place several weeks after the reader first starts dating Paul

Again, this is post Breaking Dawn, all characters are in their twenties. Resume does not exist because fuck that

Continuation One: Wildfire

TW: smut, cursing

The door to Emily’s cafe slapped open, a not unusual occurrence due to the typical crowd that hung out there being enormous shapeshifters, and Jared strode in annoyance in every line of his body. He beelined straight for your table, ignoring Seth and Quil who sat with you working on homework for their college classes and slapping his hand on the table. “For the love of God, Y/N, PLEASE just screw Paul already. I’m sick and tired of hearing him lusting after you on every GODDAMN patrol,” he growled in exasperation, startling you with his words and eliciting a raging blush that burned your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, what?!” you asked in shock, frozen at your keyboard. Seth and Quil laughed uncomfortably, trying to hide grins. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Y/N, Paul has explained the sharing thoughts thing, hasn’t he?” Jared asked with exaggerated patience. “Well, all he can fucking think about lately is YOU, and the dude gets pretty creative. Please, I am begging you, just screw him so we can get some peace around here!”

“I don’t wanna pile on, but my poor innocent eyes have had enough,” Seth grinned awkwardly, scrunching his shoulders up to his ears when you chucked a wadded up napkin at him.

“Are all of you as involved in each other’s… private lives as you are apparently in mine?” you scrunch your nose, closing your laptop. The blush was slowly beginning to fade as you gathered the rest of your belongings to head home.

“We try not to be,” Quil said quietly, his half smile apologetic. 

“Paul is just really fucking loud,” Jared rolled his eyes, hands on his hips. “The dude never does anything quiet and we are all sick of him imagining every little detail of your body at top volume. Please, for our sake, just screw him and be done with it. Please!”

You make a face at him, standing and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I’ll think about it,” you grumbled, unwilling to agree to having sex with your boyfriend in front of his best friends.

“Speaking of imagining every detail, do you really have a freckle on your left buttcheek?” Seth asked innocently as you headed for the door. Glaring, you smacked him on the head as you walked out, irritated that he’d even ask. What other parts of you had the boys seen???

***

Later that evening you were cooking in the kitchen in one of Paul’s old shirts and your underwear, smiling when you heard the front door close. “Hey baby,” Paul greeted you, kissing the back of your neck and wrapping his arms around your front. He groaned, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as well. “You’re too tempting in my shirts, you know that. What do you want?” he teased.

“Well…” you began, drawing the word out. “Jared had an interesting request for me today.” You turned in his arms to face him, his face suddenly wary.

“What?”

“He complained about how… loud your thoughts have been about me lately,” you smirked as Paul winced, inexplicably blushing. “So it is true!”

Paul closed his eyes, pressing his lips together in frustration. “I’m going to fucking rip his tail off the next time I see him,” he muttered, looking away and clenched his jaw to subdue a shudder. 

“Hey, I know he’s annoying, but we might want to do something about it, y’know, just to appease them,” you shrug, turning back to stir the pot on the stove, knowing Paul was standing shocked behind you. You bit your lip to hide a mischievous grin when you heard Paul swallow audibly.

Before he could reply, his phone rang. “Hey,” he answered, releasing you and pacing to the other side of the kitchen. “Yeah, we can come. Okay, we’ll be there in a bit.”

“Sam?” you asked, looking over your shoulder.

Paul stared longingly at your backside for a moment and sighed. “Yeah, he wants us to come down to their house for a strategy meeting. Apparently there has been bloodsucker activity in the Seattle area again so he wants us to be prepared,” he replied reluctantly. 

“Okay, I’ll go change,” you said, kissing his cheek and dodging his grab at your ass as you passed him. “Just turn off the stove and we’ll go.”

***

You were on your way soon enough, the roadway turned slick in the evening mist. Paul’s arm was comfortingly warm around you as always; playfully you put your hand in his back pocket, thinking of what Jared had said earlier.

“Y/N, don’t,” Paul warned, his arm tightening around you.

“What?” you grinned wickedly, squeezing his admittedly sculpted ass. “This?”

“I’m warning you,” he growled, a darkly mischievous look in his eye. “If you keep tempting me…”

“What are you gonna do about it?” you spun to face him, wrapping your other arm around him and pressing yourself against his body, collarbone to calf flush against his incredible heat. 

“That’s it,” he grunted, easily yanking you into his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist and backing you up against a tree several yards off the road, away from prying eyes. Your next retort was cut off by his feverish lips on yours, urgent kisses heating your mouth, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you returned his passion, a soft moan escaping your throat as Paul’s length rubbed against your core. 

“Baby…” he gasped at the noise, tearing himself away, panting. His eyes were dark with poorly concealed lust, his hands reluctant to let go as he released you to stand, though his arms still caged you against the tree. “Are you sure…?”

“Please,” you whimpered, your own passion lending itself to boldness as you placed his hand on your thigh and lifted your leg around his waist again. “I want this. I want YOU.”

Paul shuddered once, his eyes closing briefly as you begged before his hands eagerly occupied themselves, one cupping your ass to support you against the tree and the other seeking your silky folds under your dress. He moved your underwear to the side and growled with delight at the wetness he found, teasing you gently as you threw your head back with a gasp as he found your clit. “Here baby?” he asked and you nodded, watching his face through your eyelashes as pleasure sparked along every nerve ending in your body. You lost yourself to sensation, rapidly building to a starburst of release… Paul stopped suddenly.

You pouted briefly before realizing he’d only stopped to unzip his shorts, releasing his hard length and lining himself up with your entrance. “Are you on the pill?” he hesitated only for half a second to see you nod and then he thrust deeply inside you, aided by your wetness. 

From the beginning he set a relentless pace, angling himself once you cried out as he hit your g-spot to continuously stroke against it. “God baby, you feel so good,” he groaned in your ear, pressing sloppy kisses down your neck and nipping at your shoulder. “You’re better than I dreamed,” he whispered into your skin and you moaned his name.

“Paul,” you panted as his grip tightened on your ass, holding you so close to him it felt as if you were one body, your own hands clawing at his back and fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Paul, don’t stop, please…” you gasped out, throwing your head back.

“Yes baby, just like that, say my name,” he grunted, his thrusts taking on a new urgency as both of you rapidly approached your peaks. Your teeth bit into his shoulder as you reached an agonizing state of ecstasy, disengaging only to blindly search for his lips in the last moments. Your mouth met his urgently as you both came, his thrusts stuttering within you as your own release washed over your senses. 

Paul gasped for air, his heart slamming against his ribcage under your hands, fingertips trembling with the aftermath of such a passionate escapade. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes soft with love as he caught his breath. “God I love you, '' he whispered into the silence with a half smile.

Your own answering smile met his in a tender kiss, your wildfire of desire tamed to a manageable ember. “I love you more,” you whispered back, caressing the back of his neck. The two of you spent a few moments basking in the afterglow before Paul’s phone buzzed again, reminding you of why you were in the woods in the first place.

Quickly you rearranged yourselves, doing your best to disguise the telltale signs of a tryst in the woods before heading back to the road hand in hand. You grinned, looking up at Paul’s shoulder, where a very clear bite mark still remained. “Well, now you can tell Jared we’ve answered his demand,” you joked, and Paul rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe he even said anything,” he grumbled, rubbing the bite mark irritably. “Rude bastard.”

“I mean, it did take you a while to finally get around to business,” you smirked and he shot you a look. “Honestly I was wondering when we would finally have sex myself.”

“Well, I just-- I didn’t to-- I wasn’t sure if He’d hurt you like that. I didn’t want to come on too strong,” Paul said awkwardly, referring to your ex.

“And here I thought you were shy,” you laughed as you dodged his playful pinch, your heart swelling with love for this gentle giant. “No, my ex and I only had one round of extremely awkward sex before he determined that other women were much more worth his disappointing efforts.”

“Oh.” 

“And besides, I never wanted him as badly as I want you right now,” you gave him an exaggerated wink you weren’t sure he caught in the misty gloom until you saw his spreading grin. You giggled as he pulled you back into the trees, his hands already burning on your skin, ready to rekindle the wildfire in your core.

[lady-wallace]

“Pinned Down” (Febuwhump Day 4: “Impaling”)

@febuwhump​ Prompt: Day Four “Impaling”

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Battle Tendency

Synopsis: A fight ends with Joseph is a very dire position. Luckily Caesar is there to get him through it.

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

(Also check out my Ko-Fi, if you enjoy my stories! I also do fic and art commissions ^_^)

~~~~~~~

"Jojo, watch your back!"

Caesar's sharp shout had Joseph spinning around, barely dodging as another of the Pillar Men's zombies flew down from the rafters, preparing to take him out from above. He spun the knife he was using, taking a breath and infusing the blade with hamon before slamming it into the zombie's chest, pushing it back with a foot to the midsection.

"I've got it," Joseph replied to Caesar with a grin as the older man rolled his eyes and sent a vicious bubble launcher toward another zombie.

"Just keep your focus, idiota. I'll take the others here. Make sure those two who dashed out of here don't get away."

"On it," Joseph said and bolted away, boots pounding up the stairs. They were currently in an old house that the surrounding people had said began to have strange sounds coming out of it nightly. They thought it was haunted, but Joseph and Caesar had gone to investigate it, and found that it was actually some of the Pillar Men's minions who had been causing havoc in town, responsible for several disappearances.

Thus, the two hamon warriors in training felt duty bound to take out the whole house full of them.

Also, they had been spotted so they didn't really have much of a choice.

Joseph caught sight of the zombies he had gone after up ahead. They were currently prying at a shuttered window in an attempt to get out.

"And just where do you think you're going?" he demanded, brandishing his knife and also pulling out his clackers, beginning to charge them with hamon, working up momentum.

The zombies spun around the lunged at him. Joseph swung his clackers and took one of them out.

Unfortunately, the other was already on him, throwing itself at Joseph. The young Brit lashed out and slashed the zombie across the chest before he hit the floor with a resounding crack…

And kept going.

It took a second for Joseph to realize he was no longer on solid ground, and then he slammed into something below, the air getting knocked from his lungs, and everything going black.

~~~~~~~

He didn't know how long he was out. Maybe just a second, or maybe longer, but when he blinked his eyes open blearily, he realized he was lying on his back, staring up at a jagged hole in the ceiling where light flowed through.

How the hell had that happened? The house was old, but the floor must have been really bad off for him to have simply fallen through like that.

He could still hear the sounds of fighting and knew he had to get back up to help Caesar. He took a deep breath, and sat up.

Except he didn't even get past the first step.

Joseph felt an excruciating pain rip through his chest and abdomen as he tried to fill his lungs and reached down to feel the spot the pain was radiating from, right under his ribs…

His hand hit something hard.

It took Joseph a second to even make sense of what he was feeling. Even when he glanced down, it didn't really register what he was seeing except that it was bad. He touched the object with a shaking hand and even that sent another wave of agony through him, forcing a gasp out of his lungs.

There was a metal rebar coming out of his side. He didn't know how it had gotten there, but there it was, sharp and covered in his blood as it kept him pinned to the ground and the debris from the floor he had fallen through.

Joseph started to panic. His chest tightened, and his breathing stuttered. That only made the rebar shift inside of him, which caused more injury in turn. Joseph felt the sudden need to cough, and did so, whimpering from the pain that shot though him as he tasted blood in the back of his throat. He reached a cautious hand up and wiped his lower lip, finding blood there as well.

"Damn," he whispered, shaking even more.

"Jojo!"

Caesar's voice suddenly shouted from above and Joseph looked up, instantly relieved to see his friend peeking through the hole, eyes wide. "What are you doing down there? Are you all right?"

"Cae-Caesar," Joseph gulped before another cough burst from his chest and he let out a sharp cry, his breathing so erratic he was seeing stars.

Caesar seemed to see that something was wrong, and he jumped down landing lightly, before he stepped over with a cautious frown. "What's wrong, Jojo?"

He stopped, as he finally moved out of the light and it illuminated the rebar that was currently impaling Joseph.

"Dio mio," Caesar breathed as he rushed the last few feet forward, and fell on his knees next to Joseph, grabbing his flailing arm and slipping his other hand under the younger man's head. "What happened?"

"F-fell through th-the f-floor," Joseph gulped, swallowing down more blood. He hiccupped back another cough and watched blood pool around the rebar in his side, feeling woozy and nauseous. Caesar seemed to see he was really struggling and squeezed the back of his neck.

"Easy, you need to calm down, Jojo."

Joseph's wandering hand latched onto Caesar's jacket, tugging. "C-Calm down? That's rich. You don't have a-a rod through your bloody side!" The outburst caused his lungs to spasm again and Joseph choked on more blood, eyes blowing wide as he felt like he was drowning.

"Jojo!" Caesar snapped, squeezing his wrist tightly. "I told you to calm now! It's damaged your lung, which means you won't be able to use your hamon to help free yourself. You need to stay still and let me handle this."

Joseph was still trembling, toes curling from the pain, doing his best to fight against the panic of not being able to breathe. "Wha-what're you gonna do?" Joseph croaked.

Caesar carefully laid him back as flat as possible and leaned over to inspect the rebar. He cautiously slid a hand beneath Joseph's back to feel the spot the metal rod had gone in. Joseph's breath hitched in a bitten off whimper.

"You can still move your legs, right?" Caesar inquired.

Joseph twitched his feet in answer. Caesar bit his lip as he looked around the room.

Joseph started to get annoyed. "Hey! You going to help or—or what?" he demanded shakily.

Caesar narrowed his eyes at the other warrior, but there was none of his usual annoyance. If anything, Joseph thought he looked worried.

"Look, I can get you off of it, Jojo, but it's not going to be pleasant. Maybe…maybe I should go get help. Lisa Lisa might know something—"

"No!" Joseph cut in quickly. He didn't really want to admit it, but the thought of being left alone like this was terrifying. Especially if more of the zombies showed up…

Caesar's face softened and he nodded. "Okay, then what do you want me to do?"

Joseph bit his lip, a breath shuddering in his throat. "D-do it. Get it out of me. I—I trust you."

Caesar sat up straighter, his face pale, but determined. "Okay, Jojo. But I warn you, I am not very practiced with hamon healing. If this goes wrong…"

"I could bleed out by the time you get back anyway," Joseph pointed out. "M-my lung might collapse soon. Just…get it over with, okay? Like ripping off a plaster."

Caesar let out a short huff and nodded. "Fine. And I know this is a lot to ask, but try not to tense up. It will make it worse."

Joseph took a wet, shaky breath and tried to go as limp as possible as Caesar bent over him, hands under his back. One above and below the rod.

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath and hamon suddenly appeared around the rod, creating a barrier between the metal and Joseph's flesh in an attempt to make the passage smoother. It tingled, and Joseph's breath fluttered.

"Caesar…" he tried but his friend had already started moving.

Caesar, to his credit, was swift and efficient, heaving Joseph up and off the rebar in one motion. That didn't stop the utter agony that crashed through Joseph.

He screamed, arching his back, feeling like fire was tearing through his middle.

"Jojo!" Caesar shouted, grabbing his flailing arms, trying to keep him from injuring himself further. "Easy!"

Something gripped his lung and squeezed. Joseph gasped for breath, choking as more blood, frothy this time, seeped from his mouth. He grabbed hold of Caesar, eyes wide in alarm.

Caesar's own eyes went wide. He hurriedly settled Joseph on the floor and pressed a hand against his chest, forcing hamon into him. Joseph fought, the hamon feeling like electricity shooting through him. He choked out a pitiful whimper.

"Jojo, stop fighting it!" Caesar commanded sharply, reaching up to grip his shoulder with his other hand. "I'm trying to help you, just relax!"

Joseph did his best, and as he fought against the panic, he did finally feel Caesar's hamon working. His lung felt less tight and he could breathe. It was still painful, but he could get air in without coughing blood.

Caesar finally pulled back and Joseph slumped fully on the floor.

His eyes fluttered, feeling extremely exhausted as he watched Caesar yank his coat off and start binding it around Joseph's middle. He felt sticky, there was a pool of blood under his back and his whole torso was drenched in red. He swallowed hard.

"Caesar," he mumbled.

"It's okay, Jojo, I'm getting you help. Just hang on," Caesar told him.

Joseph wasn't sure he would be able to. He was so tired. All he could think of was his blood dripping away. It seemed to have really started flowing in earnest the instant the rod was out. He felt the electric warmth of Caesar's hamon again, but was too tired to care. The last thing he was aware of was Caesar lifting him off the ground and the weightlessness finally put Joseph over the edge. His head fell back and he succumbed to the encroaching blackness.

~~~~~~~

The next time Joseph woke, he was back on Air Supplena. Someone was humming, and he felt the swipe of a warm cloth against his face. He blinked his eyes open and through the bleariness saw Suzie bending over him.

She gasped softly as she saw his eyes open. "Jojo! You're awake!"

He managed a grin and a wink. "Looks like it. No need to stop on my account."

She blushed and ducked away out the door. Joseph sighed and lay back staring at the ceiling, flashes of the events that had led up to this crashing over him. He shuddered and brought a hand up to press against his side, feeling thick bandages there.

"So, you're awake."

He looked up to see that Caesar had come into the room, Suzie hovering behind him with fresh bandages.

Joseph managed a small smile. "Yeah, thanks to you, I'm still here."

"Hm," the Italian looked like he was fighting a smile. "It appears I need to try harder to keep you from doing idiotic things."

"Oh, like you're one to talk," Joseph snipped and Caesar's lips quirked up in a smile, shaking his head. Joseph gulped. "How bad is it anyway?"

"You'll recover," Caesar promised. "It's mostly closed now, but you'll have to rest for a couple more days."

Joseph sighed and lay back more firmly in bed. "Well, I suppose it won't be too bad. Kind of nice to be waited on—agh!"

Caesar tossed a bottle of pain pills at him and they bounced off his forehead. Joseph glowered, rubbing his head as he grabbed the bottle.

"There you go. Time for your medicine," Caesar told him, glaring at Suzie as she went to fuss over Joseph. "He's not hurt, stop feeding his pathetic whining."

"Not hurt, I am actually an invalid!" Joseph pouted. "You said as much."

Suzie smiled. "It's okay, Jojo, I'll get you what you need. Let me get you some water so you can take your medicine.

Caesar rolled his eyes as she skipped off and Joseph turned to him, sticking his tongue out. "See? That's how you treat a wounded warrior."

"Oh shut up," Caesar grunted.

Joseph sobered. "Really though, Caesar, thank you."

The Italian sighed but nodded. "I'm just glad you're okay." He held up a finger. "But I am not waiting on you hand and foot."

Joseph shrugged. "That's fine. Suzie's prettier anyway."

Caesar huffed a laugh and reached down to ruffle Joseph's hair, causing him to snarl in annoyance. "Just be good to her. Or I'll kick your invalid ass."

Joseph pouted but lay back, relaxed, as Suzie came back in with water for him. He really was grateful to have such good friends watching out for him.

[loveisnotadagger]

Love Is Healing - Chapter Two

I forgot to put this in the first chapter, but originally this was supposed to just be a response to a prompt on an imagines site on Tumblr, but then it sort of veered away from it, so it no longer is what it was. :)

Also: I don't own Loki or any of the characters you recognize from the Marvel franchise. I'm just writing for fun.

Author's note/warning: there are brief mentions of torture in this chapter (dealing with Loki's time with Thanos.)

---

Loki being distracted by Thor's presence now, Arianna was able to sneak onto the balcony to try and get to the Tesseract. She needed to find out how to deactivate the thing, as it was what was allowing the Chitauri to come through from their world and into hers.

Down below the city was being destroyed by Loki's army. There were creatures on robot-looking things and there was also a demonic worm that seemed to be made of metal. What even was that?

She wasn't sure any of the Avengers could actually fight these things and win. She heard and saw the explosions taking place on the streets below and knew if she was going to save anything, that she had to do it now.

Thor and Loki were fighting on the balcony, but neither of them was paying attention to her. She was able to get past them fairly easily. Thor had slammed Loki against one of the windows. He wouldn't let Loki go without a fight. He actually seemed to be talking the other, crazier, Asgardian down – something Tony had tried and failed at doing.

Maybe Thor being his brother and all would mean something to Loki. Maybe Thor could make Loki see that all this destruction wouldn't end in his rule.

Arianna now stood a few feet from the Tesseract. She was so close, yet she couldn't touch it. There was a forcefield around the blue cube and unless she could get through that she couldn't get to the Tesseract to close whatever portal it had created to bring Loki's army to Earth.

Arianna placed her hand against the forcefield and was relieved when it didn't hurt her. This type of magic – or whatever one called it – wasn't defensive.

She closed her eyes and visualized a large blue dome surrounding the Tesseract and then she felt the familiar tingle in her fingertips that came from channeling her ability through her hands. If anyone were watching, they would see a bright golden glow coming from her hands. That was how her ability manifested.

She was now imagining a hole forming in the forcefield protecting the Tesseract. She didn't need a big opening, just something wide enough for her to squeeze through.

She'd almost made it when her wrist was grabbed.

"Now, tell me . . . How does a Midgardian such as yourself know how to do that?"

Images flashed through her mind – just another part of her ability. Her mind, her energy, was merging with the one who had grabbed her.

'You don't know pain . . . if you fail, you will wish for something as sweet as pain.'

She was seeing through someone else's eyes and what she saw was a barren wasteland. She had hurt herself somehow. Her back was killing her. There were chains and whips. Sometimes she was suspended in mid-air. Sometimes she was tied down. Sometimes she was chained to a rock, facedown. There were lashes and beatings and fire.

There was Thanos . . . someone named Thanos.

Pain ripped through her as lashes from a whip connected with her back. There were brief but welcome pieces of oblivion that she was sure were bouts of unconsciousness. Then came fire – everywhere. It seemed to race through her veins.

Had she died and gone to hell?

The vision ended when the physical contact ended, when her wrist was no longer being held.

She turned to the person who'd been touching her and saw Loki – a much different Loki than she'd seen earlier. He was looking at her with wide, almost vulnerable eyes. She'd been seeing Loki's memories, and what horrible memories they were.

"What happened to you?" she whispered, not really caring that she was talking to the man who had so terrified her.

She wished she hadn't spoken, though, when his eyes hardened again. She almost couldn't blame him. She had seen into his mind and had gone through what were probably his deepest and darkest memories.

This man had been tortured for only God knew how long. No wonder he was insane. ----------

As Loki stared at the Midgardian girl, he wondered exactly what she was. Midgardians didn't know magic, not like this.

She had been able to pry into his mind. He could do that when he concentrated hard enough. The ones who had tortured him had been able to do that as well, but they hadn't seen so much as they had torn into his mind. They had torn and manipulated and replaced his jealousy and bitterness with all out resentment and rage.

This human girl had shaken his resolve for a moment, but he was himself again now and he couldn't allow her to get her hands on the Tesseract.

He looked back to where he had been fighting Thor just moments before. Loki had stabbed him, not to kill him but to get away from him. Thor was nowhere to be found now. He was probably on the streets, helping the other so-called heroes.

A surge of energy pulsed from the Tesseract, a signal meant to release more soldiers, more Chitauri.

The girl in front of him gasped and looked up. Loki glanced up as well and almost choked on his own breath. There were thousands of the Chitauri in the sky. Midgard had no chance of winning.

The girl looked at him then, anger in her eyes, and turned from him. She stepped through the hole she'd made in the forcefield and headed straight for the Tesseract.

Loki was almost tempted to let her try her hand at stopping all of this because he was fairly certain she didn't know how. It might even destroy her if she touched it, what with all the energy emanating from him. However, she was clearly gifted in what Midgardians considered magic, so she might just figure it out, might survive touching it.

Maybe he should just shove her off the balcony. It would solve this whole problem. Or he could just put her under his control. Where was his staff? He could definitely use someone like her on his side. ---------- Arianna finally reached the Tesseract, got her hands on it. The only reason she'd reached it was because Loki was trying to figure out what exactly to do with her.

Loki had been right when he'd asked about her magic because in a way what she could do was magic. She could manipulate energy to a certain extent. All things were made of energy, and manipulating that was what made it possible for her to heal people.

Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed. At first Arianna thought she was causing it, that the Tesseract was responding to her trying to shut it down, but then she remembered she had Thor on her side.

She looked up and saw several of the Chitauri fall from their place in the sky, dead. Thor had that part covered, at least.

Loki grabbed her again, and again she was pulled into his memories, his thoughts.

Loki was worried. If he failed to take over Midgard for Thanos, there would be more pain in store for him. No . . . If Thanos didn't get the Tesseract, Loki didn't even want to know what would happen.

"Let go!" Arianna screamed at Loki.

He didn't listen. He actually yanked her away from the Tesseract and pulled her out of the forcefield, which caused a slight shock to go through her.

"Let me go!"

"Really?" he asked and held her slightly over the edge of the balcony as if he were going to drop her.

"No! No, no, no!"

She grabbed onto his leather-clad arms and silently promised herself that if she went over, he would too. The fall might not kill him, but it would slow him down a bit.

She was able to see all the destruction below and she could feel from Loki that he hadn't wanted 'this' exactly. He'd needed the Chitauri more as back up in case the humans rebelled. He hadn't wanted what was to be his world destroyed.

"Help stop this, Loki," she said, knowing those four words could very well be enough for him to actually let her topple over the edge.

Instead, it made him jerk her forward.

"How dare you use my name! You need to remember your place. I am a god, you pathetic girl."

He shoved her away from him but not over the edge of the balcony. Her knees hit the cement and she caught herself, scratching the palm of her hands as she landed.

The relief of not being thrown off the balcony was short-lived, however, because the problem still remained: she was stuck there with a raving lunatic.

What she didn't know was that Natasha and Bruce had been fighting their way to Stark Tower. Natasha got there first, but Bruce was close behind and he had his game face on; he was the Hulk now, which could have been a whole other problem, but Bruce seemed to have control of the green beast that sometimes came forward. He at least seemed to know who the bad guy was.

Natasha helped Arianna off her knees and the Hulk shoved Loki through one of the windows of the penthouse. At least Loki wasn't near her anymore.

"The Tesseract," Natasha exclaimed. "Can you shut it down?"

"I think so. Keep Loki away from me."

"I think Bruce has the covered."

It was easy getting to the Tesseract since a hole was already in the forcefield. Her hand trembled as she touched the cube and instincts took over.

Energy meshed with energy and, as Arianna had thought before, it was good for her. The things she could do with that much energy, all the people she could help . . .

But no . . . she wasn't there to take in the Tesseract's energy. She was there to stop it. She just needed to find the off switch.

She focused all her energy on the complexity that was the cube's raw power, but there seemed to be no hole for her mind the slip into, none that was for stopping the portal in the sky.

She did find out that there was a key, though, and she needed it right away.

"Tash, look for Loki's staff. That's the key to cutting this thing off."

She broke her connection with the cube and stepped out of the forcefield. Someone grabbed her wrist and, looking down, she saw the science guy who had helped set up the Tesseract in the first place. She was pretty sure his name was Dr. Selvig. He had a small cut on his head, and he didn't seem to want to hurt her, so she lifted her free hand and lightly touched his head with her fingertips. The cut closed up before her eyes.

"The staff can change you. Be careful."

She nodded once and he let go. ---------- Natasha ended up being the one to actually shut down the Tesseract. She'd found out that a nuke had been released to take out the enemy – SHIELD's decision – and that Tony had basically flown himself into the portal to make sure the bomb didn't go off in the streets of Manhattan. Arianna refused to close the portal without Tony coming back out first, so when Steve had called for them to close it Natasha had been the one to do it.

Thankfully, Tony actually made it back out. Everyone was now in what had been Tony Stark's penthouse. Now it was just a mess of a room, the whole place having been torn apart.

Bruce had long since changed back to his normal form. Clint had his bow and arrow fixed on Loki, though Arianna had no clue what an arrow would do to Loki. Would it even penetrate his skin? Thor was there with his hammer. Steve was there glaring. Tony was hurt but still standing. Natasha had Loki's staff held tightly in her hands.

Arianna didn't like the staff. More precisely, she didn't like the blue stone at the end of it. The stone made her feel weird, made her feel anxious. It made her feel like everything she was afraid of was hovering in the shadows to get her.

"Can we get rid of that thing? It's freaking me out."

"Second that," Clint said.

"We'll put it away until SHIELD gets here," Tony said.

"And what about the Tesseract?" Steve asked.

"I will take it to Asgard when Loki and I return," Thor said.

Loki couldn't speak or do much of anything, really, because Thor had put handcuffs on him and had put some form of muzzle on him.

"Before we get moving, may I heal you guys?"

"Tony's the worst. I think his ribs are bruised," Natasha said.

Tony was still in his suit, so that had to come off, but then she was able to heal him just fine. Well . . . after he got over the fact that she had to touch him to heal him, he was fine. She did feel some residual fear coming off of him, but considering what he'd been through she considered that to be normal.

The rest of them had bruises also, but Tony's had been the worst. Steve healed fast, as did Bruce, and Natasha and Clint hadn't taken any severe blows. Thor seemed to be completely fine.

She would save her energy for the civilians that would need healing. She knew there would be many.

"How is it you know magic?" Thor asked, unknowingly mirroring Loki's earlier question.

"I don't know exactly how it happened," Arianna admitted. "I just woke up one day years ago and was able to do it."

She looked at Loki and then back at Thor. "Is that muzzle thing really necessary?"

"It's what all Asgardian prisoners wear until they get to Odin."

"Yes, well, we're not in Asgard right now. Unless it's physically harmful for him to have the freedom to speak, could you please take it off? I understand the restraints, but the muzzle is a bit much. He's not an animal."

Everyone looked at Arianna as if she were crazy for standing up for Loki, but they didn't know what she knew. Having seen only seconds of what he'd been through, she knew being restrained was probably driving him crazy even if he wasn't showing it.

Loki lowered his eyes when she looked at him again. Thor didn't move from his spot. She guessed that meant he wasn't going to free Loki's mouth.

"Fine," she said. "I'll do it myself."

"Aries," Natasha said. "What're you doing?"

Arianna ignored her friend and began walking toward Loki, who was standing ram-rod straight and looking at her warily. It struck her then that because she knew 'magic' Loki might be more afraid of her than any of the others in the room – except for maybe Bruce and Thor.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said as she brought her hand to the metal contraption covering his mouth.

A click sounded through the air as she sent enough energy into the muzzle to unlock it, and she gently pulled it from his face. Bruises were already forming where the thing had lined his mouth. Arianna would have healed him, but she was scared to actually touch him. She didn't want to be pulled into his thoughts again.

A bright light filled the room then and it took a few seconds for Arianna to be able to see clearly again. Out on the balcony was a woman with long golden hair. She was wearing a floor-length light green gown.

"Mother," Thor said, stepping forward.

Loki tensed beside Arianna and she realized that this was Loki's mother too.

"Thor. Loki. My sons."

Arianna wondered if this woman was here to help or harm. If she was Thor and Loki's mother, then she was obviously Asgardian as well, which meant she was strong and resilient even if she did seem soft-spoken and friendly.

"Thor, I'm here to take you home. Loki is to stay here."

The woman looked at Loki now, sympathy all over her face.

"You are to face the same punishment Thor did not so many months ago. You are to remain here, mortal, without any powers. You can come back home once you learn your lesson."

Loki had to stay on Earth? Powerless and human? He would age and die if he didn't 'learn his lesson?'

"If I may," Arianna said, stepping forward. "Have you considered he may have had a reason for doing what he did?"

"Yes, of course," the woman said. "Be that as it may . . . his deeds cannot go unpunished."

"Agreed. I just thought it bore mentioning."

The woman shared a kind smile with Arianna.

"What is your name?"

"Arianna."

"Arianna." The smile was still on her face. "Beautiful name. Can I assume that since you were so quick to defend my son that no harm will come to him under your care?"

"What?" both Arianna and Natasha said.

"This man who stands before me . . . he is a darkened version of my son. You, however, have the ability to heal people . . ."

"Oh. Physically, yes."

It occurred to her that this woman must have been keeping watch over her or something because she hadn't been there to see Arianna heal anyone.

"There are some things I cannot heal."

Arianna didn't want to say what those things were, what she'd seen in Loki's memories. There weren't words to describe it even if she'd wanted to. It wasn't her secret to share, anyway. She wouldn't bring it up unless she had to.

"Loki is undeniably clever. I think he'll be himself in no time." This time she sent Loki a smile. "Now, I suggest everyone vacate the room if you want your vision intact."

Needless to say, the Avengers – minus Thor – got through the rubble blocking the exit in record time.

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Drag Me To Hell...

Monster Prompts #3 “i'm going to breed you” #11” look at you… I thought you wanted me to stop?” With Demon! King Bakugou.

Warnings. NonC. Group NonC. First Time. ImPreg. Mind Break. Blood.

You loved the supernatural . The Mercy Thompson Series, The Vampire Diaries. The TV shows, Lost Girl, Supernatural , Being Human . Even horror video games like Until Dawn. Anything horror and supernatural you loved. But you were taking that interest a little too far according to your friends. When you told them you wanted to try practising the Dark Arts and they just looked at you. ‘That's not a real thing ya know y/n’ is what they always told you. But who were they to tell you how to live your life?

You also wanted to buy a ouija board so you could see if you could talk to the dead. The website you ordered the board from seemed really into demons and hell but you paid no mind really. It would be cool to summon a demon but you were just a beginner . Before you were about to check out the site suggested a seance book. It was black and orange with an interesting star crest in the middle. You shrugged adding it on , smiling at that Free Shipping you just unlocked.

••

It arrived the very next day . In a pretty well put together purple box with a bloody red ribbon you couldn't see throwing away. So you made it into a bracelet and a necklace. It burned your skin once it made contact. But when you checked in the mirror nothing was there, no singes, nothing. So eh , what the hell. Right?

You sat down on the floor setting up the board and pulled the book on your lap to read it. You raised an eyebrow at the summoning items. Where the hell would you get goat's blood? A virgin sacrifice? Well.. you shrugged that off and found a chapter about the board. You set the book down and lit some candles, turning off the lights.

You grabbed the dial and held it over the board repeating the words in the book. The dial shook and you couldn't help but have a stupid grin on your face.

“ is anyone there?”

‘Y,E.,S”

You shook all giddy. “What's .. your name?”

“S.E.E. F.O.R Y.O.U.R.S.E.L.F”

You tilted your head. What did that mean? “How can i see you.?”

“B.L.O.O.D.C.H.A.L.K.”

“Blood and chalk? Like a chalk circle?”

“Y.E.S.”

You hopped up running to find some chalk and the dial spazzed out hovering over “M.I.N.E” .

••

He was sitting on his throne when you weakly summoned him. He looked up from his claws to see a wavy cloud of you reading a book. Oh look at you.. this might be fun. And you even have the ribbons on.. perfect.

He leaned on his knuckles while he talked to you. His long lizard tail slapping all around the hot ground. He was a Demon King in Hell. He had thousands of goblin minions who waited on him claw and foot. A giant red dog slept at his side , his fur was spiked on his back and the tips were black. The King though. Was at least 6’5. Lean, muscle, scary charred feet and legs that he covered with some kind of fur cloth. His chest was bare with scratches going in every direction along with the charred skin creeping up like hands up at his pecks. He had strong charred arms equipped with curved claws. The ashy blond hair traveled down to the middle of his back and his horns were long and mighty with a blood red crown hanging off the left horn. Curling back at the edge. Piercing red eyes stared into your soul. He chuckled deep at how innocent you were. He was going to break you.

••

You returned with the items and sat back down to see the dial where you left it. You made the circle on your carpet, placing the candles down on each tip. He grinned watching you.

“The knife. Use the knife my pet.” He said to himself leaning forward. His dog also woke up to see his master looking excited and hungry.

You held the knife to your head making a small cut . You winced, tipping your hand over and the blood fell in the center while you repeated the words in the book.

Bakugou grinned standing up as the cloud of you turned into a portal. He laughed alerting his goblins and they all ran over cheering for a new toy to arrive.

“Tonight we dine!!!” Bakugou yelled as his bat wings spread out bringing him to the portal.

The floor shook and you got very hot all of a sudden. The candles tipped over starting a fire and you backed away screaming. The circle opened up and a long charred claw rose out scratching at the floor .

You screamed again looking for the door but it was on fire. You started to cough and get dizzy. This wasn't actually happening was it?!? You summoned a DEMON? No no, i mean you CANT. A second claw appeared clawing up the floor and you saw two long horns along with a crown.

Bakugou pulled himself up stepping into your world with a very hungry grin on his face . His tail flicked around crushing your tv . His horns dug into the ceiling scratching it all up and his claws reached out to you, offering his hand. “Come. My little Feast. come meet your new Husband” He hissed at you , almost mocking you.

You backed up more and his tail shot to you grabbing your ankle making you scream out . He dragged you to him , his wings spreading out knocking everything over. You were getting hotter, burning. You could smell burning skin. You dug your nails into the carpet as if it would do something. Bakugou snapped his claws and the ribbon glowed making the burning flesh heal . You didn't feel any heat all of a sudden, you didn't feel like you were burning alive.

Bakugou grabbed your ankle and his tail let go . He laughed and laughed flipping you over, ripping your clothes off and licking your stomach to your face with his very long tongue. “Lets go , shall we?” He dragged you down with him, right down to hell.

••••

Bakugou grabbed your ankle yanking your clothes off and threw you right down once the portal closed. Right down to his minions and dog . The goblins caught you and immediately started touching you all over. Little slimy hands covered every inch of your body , touching your chest, pulling at your nipples and digging into your pussy. One of them tried to pry your mouth open and you shook him off , you rolled over and one of them humped your rear trying to get himself inside you.

You begged for this to stop but one of the goblins shoved his slimy cock down your throat and began to face fuck you. You screamed and he just went faster. another goblin went for your pussy and Bakugous tail grabbed him, tossing him into some lava. “No one touches my feast there. That's mine.” He said sitting back down on his throne watching the goblins stomp around forming a line at your mouth.

Bakugou laid his leg over his knee watching with satisfaction on his face. His dog rubbed on Bakugous side and Bakugou reached up to pet his nose. “Hungry?” He waved his hand and some meat appeared. The dog wagged his tail pouncing on the food and Bakugou turned his attention back to you.

••

Every single one used your mouth , and if one tried to sneak back in line Bakugou tossed them into the lava. You had cum falling out of your mouth forming a puddle at your chest. It was starting to form a bump in your stomach and your jaw was aching .

By the time they were all satisfied Bakugou got up and they all ran off on little short legs going elsewhere. Bakugou kneeled down grabbing your hair so he could see your face. You coughed up a bunch of cum heaving hard. He smiled at you showing off his fangs, talking deep.

“That was fun right? I'm surprised you lived through it. Most women dont. “

“I…”

“Hm? Why are you here? Why you summoned me of course. “ he licked at your face cleaning it all up from tears and cum. He spit into some lava and lifted you up more. “ Those words you repeated in the book? Were vows. Your mine. Forever. And if you think you're gonna die down here then guess again.” The ribbons glowed a shiny red. “Your immortal now. And I'm gonna breed you. Every.Single.Chance i get. “

“But im-...”

“But what.?!? A lonely little human? You thought you could .. play around with a little book?!? Practice some dark arts like they do in those fantasies of yours?!? Well guess what honey it's real. And you're never leaving this place.”

He dragged you to his throne sitting down and pulled you up, you tried to fight him but as soon as he grabbed hold of you he slid you right down on his hard cock all the way down. You screamed. It echoed all throughout hell . The smell of your blood made him go nuts. Fucking you hard and fast , he didint care if he was breaking you, didint care if it hurt. He only wanted to fuck you till your mind broke . Till you were begging him for his cock like a bitch in heat.

••

The days went on . And the goblins demanded service at least every other day. But fewer and fewer showed up since Bakugou had to toss them in the lava. Other demons showed up too, creatures you've never seen before. Wanting the same treatment. Your jaw broke a few times and Bakugou had to snap it back into place each time with an annoyed look on his face.

You were free to walk around Hell as you pleased, but if you did you had to service anyone you came across. And Bakugous dog had to go with you just in case anyone tried anything with your pussy. They could have your ass though, no matter how loud you screamed no one helped you. Just waited for their turn while the big demon dog wagged his tail watching the lava burst nearby .

Why exactly were you walking around Hell?!? A very small part of you.. the part that wasn't broken. Was fascinated with everything you saw. It was all you had left of yourself, your real self. You even found a quiet spot away from creatures and goblins. A shady spot with no lava , it looked like a little cave almost. You crawled inside hugging yourself . It had been a month? Maybe? Did anyone know you were gone? You looked down at your stomach rubbing the small bump. You had fallen pregnant at some point. All you could think about was what it would look like. And the king.

Your hand dipped between your legs and you rubbed your clit in circles , leaning back on the warm rock sighing with relief. The demon king rushed all around in your head causing you to breath hard and slip a couple fingers in. “My king..” you sighed into your shoulder. The dog howled and minutes later he was there, crouching down watching you with a smile.

“Look at you.”

“King..” you crawled to him in between his legs fishing his cock out and hugging his hips. He smirked turning you around to run a claw down your rear watching it shake . You offered your dripping pussy to him and he rubbed your stomach. “Look at you… I thought you wanted me to stop..,?”

A whine left your mouth and Bakugou got up on his knees rubbing his cock on you . You came hard just from that and Bakugou grinned, rubbing his cock on your clit . “Oh you little slut. I'm glad you saw it my way” He shoved all the way inside you and you looked up grinning like an idiot. You came again and Bakugou tipped his head back laughing into the dark.

••

@crushonkatsuki @knifeewifee @squeaky-ducky @maron-k-rh @lady-bakuhoe @kittifer @redflannel

[ben10daily]

happy day 2 of gwevin week! this fic is for the prompt of the day: warrant. shout out to @brooken-gwevin-weeks for organising this event!

title: could be a nail in my coffin  words: 1,091 summary: two superpowered hot-heads walk into a bar. stop me if you’ve heard this one. ben10k-verse.

“You know, you’re really getting lazy about this whole ‘convict on the run’ lifestyle.”

Kevin’s head turned up from the bar, chin still leaning on his closed fist as he lowered the half-empty glass of Vulcan whiskey from his lips. With a growing smile, toothy and shark-like, he tipped it at her in greeting.

“Gwendolyn. Been a while.”

“Two weeks,” she said dryly, slamming her Plumber’s badge down on the bar next to his elbow. “I have better things to do than chase you across the galaxy, Kevin.”

“But the chase is the best part.” His pupils glowed unnaturally as he held her gaze, the energy of eleven thousand ill-fated aliens prickling just under his skin. Kevin soothed it, pushing down just far enough to keep his human form in place. It wouldn’t do to cause a scene in public. Not yet, anyway.

He hadn’t finished his drink.

Gwendolyn looked away first, scouting the room quickly with her eyes, and no doubt considering how to empty the place before she had to mana-blast his ass through a brick wall again. His shoulder still wasn’t quite right from the last time, but that was all part of the fun.

Truth was, Kevin had all kinds of hidey-holes to crawl into, places he could disappear from Plumber eyes if he wanted to, and from the Big Brother sight of old Benjy. He’d done it before, just like he’d broken out of the Null Void more times than he could count. It was getting laughably easy, really. 

But he couldn’t resist goading her like this, knowing Gwendolyn would take it upon herself to come out personally just to make a point. Or maybe she knew full well he’d mangle any other life form that came into his line of fire these days. Kevin liked to think she just missed having him around.

“You could make this easy, for once,” Gwendolyn offered, leaning over him to avoid prying eyes. Her hood was pushed back, the scarf that usually concealed her face yanked down to her neck, so he could take in the uneasy frown he’d become accustomed to in recent years.

She smelled the same, Kevin noted, a sweet, floral scent he could pick up with those helpful vulpimancer senses. Likewise, he could hear the way her heartbeat wasn’t quite steady around him. Time didn’t change everything.

He tilted his head, humming thoughtfully. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“I’m serious,” she said, and he caught her fingers twitch against the badge.

With a swig, Kevin emptied the remains of his drink and dropped the glass heavily onto the bar. Gwendolyn’s eyes narrowed, so close to his own, and he could almost kiss her as his arm morphed into a diamond blade that shot out for her stomach.

The sharpened point cracked hard against a flat orb of pink mana, veering off at an angle, and Gwendolyn’s palm caught him under his scarred chin, a blow so fierce it flipped him backwards off his stool.

To a normal human, that uppercut might have been dangerous enough to cut the wire of his consciousness, but Kevin was, above all, a freak of nature. He knew that much, and he rode the momentum of her strike into a turn that let him swipe at her with a roundhouse kick to the head.

His foot, now splintered and red with blazing heat, smashed against her forcefield yet again, this time hard enough to throw her sideways into the bar. He rotated on his hands, pushing off and landing on all fours a few feet away.

Gwendolyn looked flustered as she righted herself, rose-coloured light gathering around her clenched fists.

“Don’t you get bored of this?” she snapped at him. Kevin stood to meet her, ignoring the petty criminals fleeing from their tables at the sight of them facing off. “The same fight every time, just to get caught or run away with your tail between your legs?”

“I’m not scared of him, Gwendolyn,” he bit out. Little Ben Tennyson with his alien watch, no powers but the ones given to him by his betters. No cost, no consequences, just a statue of his smug face in every city, on every planet.

“Aren’t you?” Gwendolyn’s mana whipped out like a poisonous viper, and Kevin ducked in time to miss a swipe that separated more than a few strands of his hair. “Then what about me? Because I’m running out of patience with this cat and mouse game.”

Her eyes flickered, pupils disappearing into an unearthly glow as she lurched at him, flinging bolts of mana, one after the other, always aimed directly at his head.

Kevin dodged one, and then the next, and smacked the third aside with a bulging red arm that extended lightning-fast from his side, ripping against the open seams in his armoured shirt. Her energy singed the fingers black, but he couldn’t feel them anyway. Too much DNA had amalgamated in his body for him to feel much of anything these days.

Thick rope-like tentacles unravelled from his back, a gift from those nasty little guardians he’d grown so familiar with in the Null Void. He found them grotesque, and once upon a time he might have been ashamed to reveal them in Gwendolyn’s presence, but damn if they weren’t effective.

Like vines, they lashed around the uncovered pipework hanging from the ceiling, stretched taut then released, propelling him well out of her firing range and into the air. He landed by the door and she spun on her heel, another bolt already seeking him out.

Kevin deflected it with a petrosapien hand, grinning, and caught her follow-up shot across the side of his face. An angry flare of mana from her eyes burned through his cheek and consumed the helix of his right ear, leaving charred skin in its wake and a feeling closer to agony than he’d known in a long time. His head whipped back and he gritted his teeth, barking out a sonic howl that shattered the bow of energy she’d been casting to leash him.

Gwendolyn leaped away, a reactive forcefield swallowing the rest of his blast as he backed up towards the street. Helpfully, she’d blazed a gaping hole straight through the entrance and Kevin planned to make use of it.

“You?” He smiled at her with a droplet of blood beading at the corner of his upper lip, where she’d clipped him, warm and slick as it trickled into his mouth.

“Gwen, you scare the hell out of me.”

[trillian-anders]

the harlot - iii

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: descriptive violence, angst, fluff, smut, slow burn

word count: 3k

description: harlots inspired au;

one last run before shipping off steve rogers is brought to a brothel to love a woman in case of his untimely demise at war. he meets the reader, young and fresh, not yet tainted by the world they’d been born into. a torrid one night love affair that costs their mother greatly. a promise and years later they meet again, the reader resentful and distrustful. the charming, now captain rogers, seems as captivated in reader as ever. but it’s never meant to be. and you both know that.

Steve had changed a great deal physically in the last ten years. His broad shoulders filled in with firm muscle. His waist thickened yet still tapered. The chest you lay your head upon nearly a decade ago, you could trace his ribs with your fingers. Freckled and waifish. But the man beside you had filled out tremendously. Not only in his body, but in his mind. The firmness in which he told Brock that he was not to be contested gave you pause.

You were sure in Pierce’s conversations over the last ten years you would have heard about the Roger’s family at least once, but it hadn’t been brought up. Maybe perhaps not in front of you. Was Steve into dirty dealings or was his family just nobility?

“I must say,” You begin, “Either you’re more powerful than I previously thought, which would mean you’ve lied to me.” As the two of you stepped into the park, “Or you’ve recently come into a position that Sir Pierce values greatly and he’s seeking to have you join his merry band of thieves, criminals, and moral bandits.”

A crack of laughter from his chest, “You’ve definitely gotten a league more brazen since our last meeting.” Met with a glare from you. The laughter still in his eyes, “I may have omitted certain details of my lineage the last we met, but the war also put me in a higher ranked position in itself.” So both were true.

“Why are you here?” It wasn’t an inappropriate question and you’re sure he knew you were going to ask it. “Why now? Why after all this time?” His hand tightening on your arm, not in a threatening way, but an attention-grabbing way. It smarted the bruise left by Pierce the night before. A sucked in breath of pain on your part and his hand falls to his stomach.

“You know why.” A roll of your eyes as you continue your walk, leaving him a step behind. He meets your step and continues, casting a friendly greeting to two men who pass. A cordial, I know you but don’t have the time of day to stop, kind of greeting.

“I’m just a fool then.” You sigh, watching as he holds his arm back out for you to take. A courtesy.

“You’ve never been a fool.” His arm is warm under your touch. It felt so new, yet so familiar. Your mind drifting back to the way he held you that night. Your fingers tracing the skin from freckle to freckle and the warmth from his chest. For a moment you wonder what it would be like now. Only for a moment.

“You’ve made me into one.” A bite, a nip at his heels really. His hand covers yours.

“I never meant to.”

“But you did.” You had to let a deep breath from your chest, you desperately wanted to remove your corset. A little too tight today it seemed. A little too constricting. The summer heat was coming in. The least favorite time of year for women. The days would soon become too much for the current stroll. Your chain a little tighter to the home not more than a mere block behind you.

“How can I find your forgiveness?” Truthfully you just missed his voice. You’d forgotten how it sounds. The way it made you feel. Almost like you’d invented him all on your own. You shake your head, not answering him. “Pierce might gift you to me if I ask.” Your steps halt, and you look at the hopeful expression on his face.

“So then you may become my master?” His brow pulling in confusion. “So that I may be chained to your bed and not his? You’ve gotten further in age, but not in your naivety. You ask me to be your mistress?” You pull yourself from him and fist the front of your dress. “You are truly daft aren’t you?” His jaw set, “I will not be your whore.” A spit, and you start making your way back to the house.

“It was not my intention—”

“But you spoke it anyway.” Moving out of reach for his extended arm. “I think you should go Captain Rogers.” Your breath coming out in short pants in the rising heat, heart rate rising. The door was getting closer and closer with every step. You were almost home and able to loosen this godforsaken thing and maybe have a good cry and a nap.

“Y/N, please.” His hand wraps around your arm and pulls you close to him garnering a couple of stares from those nearby. “Listen to me.” The force of it. The anger makes you flinch. His other hand comes up soft, barely a brush against your cheek, his grip loosening. “Y/N…”

“Please.” You were scared. You were no stranger to a man’s ire. And the sweet boy you’d met before was now a man himself. You didn’t know him in the first place, now he was a stranger. You needed to go. You needed to be alone. “Please, let me go.” His hand releases you, and you see the sorrowful look on his face. Some abject horror masked in sadness.

You grip the railing to go up the steps and disappear into the house. Out of the direct sun it’s much cooler, but still unbearably hot. The stumble up to your room and your fingers ripped at the expensive silk of your dress, pulling at the laces to untie it and finally being able to breath as you rip the corset from your chest. Discarded on the floor you trip into the bed, crawling up the side to bury your face in the pillow, makeup be damned. And you cry.

Pierce being gone was usually a great relief. But this felt worse than that.

You hear your door open and you already know who it is. You couldn’t be bothered.

“Get out Brock.” Muffled into the pillow.

“What did the Captain talk to you about?” Straight and to the point. You hear his boots settle heavily in the doorway, scuffed against the floor.

“Brock, get out of my room.” With a little more force. His footsteps closer, hands gripping the blanket and yanking it from your body.

“You look like shit.” He leans over on the bed, gripping your chin in his hand and pulling your face from the pillow, your eyes red. “What did he talk to you about?” You smack his arm, pulling away from him.

“Nothing.” Hand reaching for the blanket now spilled onto the floor. “Get out.” His hand shoots out and grips your jaw even harder, pulling you back and slamming you down on the bed, twisting your knee in the process.

“You don’t tell me to get out.” Spittle on your face as your hands wrap around his wrist, trying to pull him off. His other hand pinning your arms to your chest. “What did he say to you?” Tears pooling in the corners of your eyes, as he straddles your body, preventing you from kicking your legs.

“Nothing,” You whimper, wincing as the grip on your jaw tightens, “He just made pleasantries.” His hand slips down to your throat. “Brock, he didn’t say anything to me.”

“You’re lying.” Pressure on your throat. His face red and the vein in his neck prominent. “How do you know him?” You choke as his hand presses down on your throat, a struggle to breathe as his thighs clamp around yours, keeping you complete still.

“Brock.” Barely choked from your throat. “I… can’t…” He seems to remember himself, loosening his grip on you. And you turn your head to cough, gasping for air. Your fist meeting his chest weakly. His hand finds your hair, turning your face back to his as he tries to grip your wrists back in his large palm.

“How do you know him?” Brock had never been more violent with you before. Yeah, he would get a little handsy. A grope here, a rough grip of your arm to drag you around here or there. But never this. You wouldn’t be able to leave the house for the rest of the week at least.

“His battalion came into our house once,” You swallow roughly, throat sore, “A long time ago, he talked to me and I played piano for them.” Not technically a lie. “Nothing more.”

“So what did you really talk about?” His thumb moved to your bottom lip, pulling down to reveal your teeth.

“He just asked me how long I’ve been in Alexander’s employ.” You shake your head, feeling your tears run hot into your hair. “He just remembered that I was being bid for.” He didn’t believe you; you could see it in his eyes.

“I know Pierce did not send him here.” His jaw tight, thumb pressing against your teeth, “Open.” Prying open your jaw to press his thumb on your tongue. “And I will choose to ignore the fact that you continue to lie to me, because the truth will always come to the surface.” A whimper as he pressed your arms to your chest even harder, restricting your breath. “And you, little whore, will buy my silence.” A cry leaving your throat as he pressed against your tongue even harder, “Now suck.”

Later, your curiosity to see what you looked like in the mirror was damaging. You stand in front of the floor length propped against the wall next to the fireplace in your room. Your bare body, your eyes just about swollen shut from crying. You could see the bruises on your jaw and neck, your forearms and wrists. The bruising against your hips and knees. Crying in the dark, you walk back to your bed and slip yourself under the covers. Staring blankly at the gold pattern in the wallpaper until you could find sleep.

The next day found Captain Rogers back on the doorstep. And you hiding around the corner with your cup of tea and picked at breakfast. You heard Brock answer the door, and you heard Steve on the other side.

“Captain Rogers?” His voice ever pleasant to a man who could murder him and get away from it by the way Brock kissed his ass. “Three times this week, you seem very eager about the proposition from Sir Pierce.”

“I’m still going over it with my associates.” You were sure he was smiling, real charming and fake.

“If you’re here for Y/N Parker, she’s indisposed at the moment and is not taking visitors.” Clipped and short this time. Like his word was law.

“Actually, I’ve come to talk to you.” You cup clinked heavily against the plate. Leaning towards the door further to listen. “Would you mind?” You grew anxious in your seat, in nothing more than your night dress and stockings. Indecent for Brock let alone any company. But you couldn’t be fucked to put on your petticoats, especially when you were as sore as you are.

“Come in.” The half toast and jam you’d eaten stirred in your stomach as you watch Brock lead the broad-shouldered man into the parlor. Unable to see more than his back. Your heart pounding. Brock appeared in the doorway, “Try to go upstairs without being seen.” An order. A chill down your spine. You slip from the room and start up the stairs. A creak on the floorboards as Brock begins his walk back into the parlor, you risk a glance back over your shoulder to see Steve’s face staring at you from the position he’d taken on the couch, the clench of his jaw as the parlor doors shut.

Your heart continued to race long after your bedroom door was shut, and you sunk back down into your sheets. You wondered what they were talking about downstairs. What Steve was talking to Brock about knowing he’s seen the bruises. He must have.

You didn’t know how long Steve was downstairs. You could hear the front door open and shut again. You could hear the boots coming up the stairs. Your door opening.

“I’m going out tonight.” His steady foot falls across the floor. You feel the bed dip behind you. His arm bracing itself next to your head, nose burying itself in your hair, “You are not to leave this house, do you understand?” You nod, you feel his lips brush against you and it makes your skin crawl. A push off the mattress and you hear him leave the room. Burying your face in your pillow, you willed yourself to fall back asleep. Stomach rolling with acid.

It was dark when you’d woken up later. Hungry and groggy. You slip from bed and light the lamps in the room. You squat in front of the fireplace, piling in some new wood, and setting it to light. A chill in the room.

The stairs creak as you make your way downstairs, hopeful to grab some spiced meat, cheese and bread before returning to your room. Maybe a cup of tea too you figure, setting the kettle on the stove to boil.

Usually, when Pierce was home, there’d be the maid to make you tea. Serve you dinner. But with it just being you and Brock and no master she would come do her basic services and then go home for the night.

You didn’t mind all in all. Your Ma had always made you self-sufficient enough to know how to cook simply and be overall well rounded. And it was nice to pretend like you lived alone. Like this was your own home and you could close your eyes and pretend you were living in the countryside. The smell of the grass and flowers. A garden you could grow. You could almost feel the soft breeze. How the sun would be so warm on your skin. Not having to worry about staying as pale as possible for the upper class.

You startle as the kettle starts to whistle. Broken out of your reverie to glance down at the dark stovetop. Unbothered to light more than a candle or two to put together your meal. The leaves added to the tea you leave it to steep, cutting chunks of cheese and the salted meat scraps.

“Do you want to pour an extra cup?” A gasp, you nearly nick your finger at the sound and turning is when you see him.

“Steve?” His eyes scanned you from tip to toe. You were suddenly very self-conscious. The bruising was surely noticeable. You’d been avoiding mirrors. You watch his fists clench at his sides. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” You realized you were still gripping the knife, your hand loosening on it as you let it rest on the cutting board. “What did he do to you?” You shake your head, backing as far into the counter as you could.

“Steve how did you—”

“I invited Brock to a gathering hosted by a friend of mine…” His voice made you weak when he said, “Y/N… what did he do to you?” He invited Brock out to get him to leave the house, knowing you’d be alone. The aftereffects of him seeing you like this earlier. You could only imagine how badly you truly looked to him.

“This is… indecent.” You move to your left, towards the door. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Y/N…” You look at him, his arm outstretched towards you, “Come and sit down, talk to me.” The vein in his neck was prominent and the anger he held under the surface was almost frightening. But the way his voice cracked when he said, “Please.” It made you sit at the table.

He moved behind you to grab the food you’d been preparing and returned with the kettle and cups. In the dim light of the kitchen you could almost see him how he was. The shadows making him look thinner, gaunt as he sat himself across from you. Your hands shook while he poured you tea and he gestured to the food in front of you. “Eat.” Not an order, more like… begging.

“When Brock comes back—”

“He won’t be back tonight.” Steve shook his head softly as you picked at a cube of cheese. “James will make sure of that.” You sigh, digging your nail into the cheese as he takes a sip of his tea. “Y/N…” Your eyes meet his over the light of the candle between you. “Just ask,” He shakes his head, “And he will never come back.”

Your throat tightens and you shake your head, sitting against the back of the chair, “Steve.”

“If I needn’t much tact I would have killed him in the parlor this morning.” He bit in anger. “Is this something he normally does while his master is away?” Gesturing towards you.

You shake your head, “No.” You clear your throat, “No, he doesn’t usually…” You furrow your brow looking down at the table between you. At his hands.

Those soft hands you remember on your body, the gentle touch of a boy exploring a woman for the first time. Those hands were not the same as the calloused hands on the table. The scars from where you could see his knuckles had been split, over and over.

“Steve,” Your eyes drift up from those hands to his serious face, jaw still clenched in anger, “Tell me. Now.” You swallow, “Who are you exactly?”

[mysterioh]

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 10

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

Synopsis: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge in art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Masterlist

My Shining Knight in a Tom Ford Three-Piece

"I'm doing good," he chuckled awkwardly.

"Is this your friend, Stevie?" Nat asked innocently. Like she doesn't know a thing about the world.

Stevie.

"We've met a few times," you told her, slightly affected by the nickname. "Here and there."

"Oh, cause he's never really told me about you," she said.

"Nat," Steve warned. She turned to him with a wicked grin. "How about we order?" He suggested through gritted teeth and opened the menu.

"Good idea," she followed.

The two gave you their orders and you scribbled them down on your little notepad while shooting a few glances in the blonde's direction.

He kept his nose in the menu as if he was hiding from you and when you take them back he quickly pulls out his phone.

You walk away with a smile and a very bad case of confusion. Steve waited until he saw you turn the corner to speak.

"Alright, what're you up to?" Steve questioned.

"Me?" Nat asked, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play stupid," Steve jabbed. "You can't fool me."

"How was I supposed to know your girlfriend worked here?"

"Don't call her that!" Steve whisper-shouted, looking around to make sure you weren't around.

"I thought you said you were over her?" Nat mused.

"I am," Steve sat straight, with a firm look. "Just don't say weird stuff like that. Someone might hear."

"Oh look there's your girlfriend right there," Nat pointed.

Steve huffed in defeat as he took a quick glance. You were walking down an aisle with an empty tray in hand and a high ponytail bouncing behind you with free strands shaping your face. You looked cute, very cute . Steve's quick glance turned into a lingering gaze and a small smile making Nat chuckle in amusement.

"Excuse me, Miss?" A young man called you with a pointed finger.

You turned back to him. "Yes?"

"I'd like to make an extra order."

"Sure," you pulled out your notebook. "For?"

"That ass" he grinned and his friends roared in vulgar laughter.

You rolled your eyes annoyed while turning on your heel to walk away, your hair whipping behind you.

"Hey baby," he drawled and caught your wrist. "I didn't say you could leave," he shook his head, smiling wide for you to see his tacky gold tooth.

"Let go of my hand," you hissed, trying to pry from his grasp.

"C'mon I ain't causing no trouble, right guys?"

"Yeah, baby, why don't you sit with us?" One of his friends asked. "We'll show you some fun."

Steve's jaw clenched at what he was witnessing. His eyes narrowed onto the man, onto the way his hand was wrapped around your gentle wrist. Burning rage hissed through his body like deathly poison, screeching a demanding release in the form of unwanted violence. He stood up abruptly, banging the table as he walked towards them.

Nat raised a brow at him. "Steve, where are you going?" She turned in her chair to see him stalk towards you. "Steve?"

"I said let go of me," you stated coldly, but it wasn't enough to mask the fear racking inside.

"No can do, princess," he shook his head, bringing you closer. His eyes avert from yours to see Steve steaming towards them.

You turn to see what he's looking at, but it's only for a split second. In a matter of seconds, the man's grip on your hand loosens as Steve yanks him up by the collar and slams his fist right into his jaw.

Heads turned and raised at the sound. Everyone stopped doing what they were doing to see what was happening.

"Who the fuck do you think you are touching her like that?" Steve hollered, pulling him back up by the collar.

You caught him by the arm. "Steve, it's fine." You were more afraid of what he'd do to the man. "Just calm down. Let him go," you asked slowly, tugging on his arm gently.

"No," he snarled. "Guys like him deserve to get beat. I oughta punch his teeth out for touching you like that," he growled.

"Yeah?" The guy chuckled in pain, blood trailing down the side of his lip. "Acting like a saint, are we, mob king? I heard what you did to the Gambinos." Steve's jaw ticked. "Don't act so righteous when you're not."

Steve pumped his fist back to punch him again until Nat interfered.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" She hissed.

"Do you hear what the hell he's saying?" He snapped at her.

"There are women and children here," she warned.

"That never stopped him before," the guy guffawed.  

"Shut the fuck up you piece of shit," Steve punched him in the nose and he fell backward onto an empty table. Nat slapped her forehead.

"What the hell are you doing in my restaurant?" May shouted as she stormed down.

"Steve, you have to leave," you ordered.

"What?" He asked incredulously. He just saved you from a scumbag and you're telling him to leave?! Shouldn't he deserve something better? Like a kiss or a hug. Hell, he'd even take a smile.

"I said leave," you stated. "Now."

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Nat beat him to it.

"C'mon, we're going," she pulled him by the arm.

"But-,"

"No buts. Now move it, Mister," she led him like a mother. Steve looked at you as he passed by, but you looked away.

He grumbled. Why must I ruin everything?

"I'll call you for the damages," May hollered at Nat.

Nat waved her hand at her as everyone looked on in confusion. What the hell just happened?

"All I wanted was a nice lunch date," Nat nagged. "But you just had to go and ruin everything."

"Sorry," he mumbled as she unlocked the car. He reaches to open the door but she stops him.

"No, you're staying here," Nat stated. "And you're going to talk to her."

"What?" Steve asked puzzled. "No, never. I'll die first."

"You're a damn coward."

"Why are you leaving me here?" Steve complained.

"Because you need to apologize," Nat replied, getting into the car.

"This is bullshit," he groaned.

"Watch your fuckin language," Nat warned. "And don't you dare go home without doing it."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Steve whined.

"Trust me when I say it's for your own good."

With that, Nat drives away, leaving a sullen Steve in the dust. Her phone dings and she checks what it is.

A message from a hired henchmen.

I'm taking extra for that punch.

"Y/N," Wanda cooed, face pressed against the large window of the now empty restaurant. Her hot breath steaming onto the window.

"Yeah?" You asked while sweeping the floor, thoughts elsewhere.

"He's still there," she said with a giggle watching Steve leaning against someone's car. His back facing them.

"And what am I supposed to do about that?" You countered coldly. "I didn't tell him to stay."

"Oh come on!" Wanda yelled. She turned around and placed her hands on her hips, eyeing you down dangerously. "You can't be this heartless!"

"I am not heartless," you retorted. "All he ever does is make a mess out of everything."

"He saved you!" Wanda exclaimed, ready to rip her hair out.

"I never asked him to," you shrugged with a grumble. "I can take care of myself."

Wanda groaned exasperatedly while sinking into a chair. "I just can't with you," she exhaled deeply. You rolled your eyes but kept on working as she should have been.

"Hey, Y/N," May called from the register.

"Yeah?" You turned to see her motioning you to come to her. You obeyed and reached over the counter with the broomstick still in your hand.

She gives you a warm motherly smile while leaning over the counter.

"Now, listen to me and listen to me well," she said with a smile. "A guy like that" she points towards the window, "is hard to find. Not every guy's gonna defend your honor, only the special ones do. So listen to your sweet old boss and don't mess this up? Go out there and say thank you."

You swallowed what she said with a bright blush.

"Cause I know you like him." You opened your mouth to retort and she chuckled. "You can come up with any kind of excuse you want, but you can't hide what's in here," she pointed to your heart with her pen. "Why don't you give your heart a break and just give in? I mean what's to lose right?"

You nodded mindlessly, heat rushing to your head.

"Well?" She asked with a chortle. "What are you doing here? Hurry up and get out there before he freezes to death!"

"But I still have to-"

"Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it," Wanda assured, shoving your things into your arms. "Now go, go, go," she urged, excitedly.

"Okay, okay," you hissed and they chuckled at the way you pouted in embarrassment. You put on your coat and slung your bag over your shoulder. You walked over to the door and were about to leave when Wanda called you back.

"Here," she threw a small bag of cookies into your face, "say it's on the house. Good luck!"

"Uh-thanks," you gave her a lopsided smile.

You walked out into the nightly winter air. You see him standing across the street, back to you, leaning against a midnight black car with a thin trail of smoke dancing in the air.  

Your heart is soaring, livelier than it's ever been before, and it feels strange. Heavy but light, scared but wanting.

Alright, Y/N, there's nothing to worry about it's just Stupid Steve.

You turn back to find May and Wanda both pressed against the window to see the drama. Way to be subtle.

They gave you big thumbs up and smiles; you can't help but chuckle at them.

"Okay," you whispered to yourself. You rubbed your hands together and slapped your numb cheeks. "I got this," you affirmed.

You crossed the street and stepped onto the curb. Steve turned his head to see you and stood up straight. He drops the cigarette in his hand to the ground and crushes it under his shoe.

"H-hey," you stuttered. I thought you said you had this!

"H-hi!" He replied, quickly.

"Uh- um- I-uh," you lost the words. Then it came to you. "Here!" You threw- chucked the bag of cookies and he caught them. "Uh those are for you! They're not from me, so don't get any ideas," you stated flatly.

There's that irresistible charm.

He smiles wide, the smell of freshly baked cookies making the moment all the sweeter. "Thanks," he replied.

You crossed your arms with a pout and walked by him. You turned back from the waist up, using every bit of power in you to not to smile at him. "The bus stop is a block away and you're gonna come with me. You're my bodyguard for the next ten minutes cause you've got a good arm."

Steve chuckled. "That's fine by me," he grinned, catching up to you with wide footsteps. He pockets the bag of cookies in his coat as a snack for later and tucks his hands inside his suit pants.

The night whispered sweet nothings, luring the heat packed under layers of clothing out. It was a cold, moonless night. The sky was dark and low with a rolling blanket of ash grey.

The cold came like the spell of an enchantress. Earth to iron. Water to stone. Green grass to frosted white. There was no hint of warmth left, the autumn, or a kiss of the vanquished sun.

Every step becomes a prayer to home, streaking the chilly silence settled into the streets of Brooklyn. As the cold air nipped at your cheeks, your thoughts scattered in a frenzy of what to say and what not to say.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that you weren't good at these kinds of things. You failed at it. Failed so bad that the gods of love would cry on your behalf.

"So…" you spoke up. "That girl."

"Hmm?"

"The redhead," you elaborated. "She your girlfriend or something?"

"Nat?" Steve asked. "Oh no, she's just a friend. One of the guys, y'know?"

"Oh, I see," you replied, a strange sense of relief settling inside.

"Why? You jealous?" he smirks.

You snorted. "As if," you stick your nose in the air. He chuckles in reply, making you smile.

"I'd like to say thank you," you said, your breaths turning into puffy white clouds. "For what you did back there."

"Oh," he blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was nothing."

"No, really, no one's ever really stuck up for me like that," you said playing with your hands. "Well, maybe just Quentin."

"I mean he's your boyfriend," he said, sounding close to a snarl. He looked away with a disgruntled frown.

The stinging thorns of a white lie pricked into your skin.

"Quentin isn't my boyfriend," you confessed and he whipped his head towards you. You bite your lip in embarrassment and keep your eyes on the path. "He only said that so you'd leave me alone."

"But why?" Steve asked, completely lost.

"Are you kidding me right now?" You asked, stopping to look at him. "You're kinda clingy. Not even kinda, you are clingy."

Steve tried to retort, but it only came out like a garbled mess of words. “But lying is bad,” he stated with a triumphant smirk.

“Wouldn’t you lie if a guy you met once followed you around?” you countered. Steve’s jaw went slack and he didn’t have a reply.

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” he mumbled.

“I am right,” you said with a sigh.

“You are right,” he echoed sadly. “I’m sorry. I guess I came off a bit too hard?”

“Just a tad bit,” you said with an amused grin. “But it’s okay, I forgive you.”

He beams in the dark of the night. “Yeah? Does this mean you’ll go on a date with me?”

"No,” you deadpanned, resuming your trek.

“Right, sorry,” he replied, following behind. “How about a very platonic coffee break?”

You groaned in exasperation. “I just don’t get you,” you placed your hands on your hips. “Why do you like me so much?”

“That’s a really weird question to ask someone,” Steve laughed.

“Well, it’s my question,” you retorted. “I mean what do you find in me that you can’t find anyone else? I’m not special or beautiful. No one’s ever liked me before, so why do you?”

Steve stood still, the playful grin splayed on his face slowly fading. You searched his eyes for an answer. They say the eyes are a gateway to the soul, yet when you look into his they’re clouded with mystery.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I just do. I just like being around you. You’re funny and smart. But I guess that’s not a good enough reason.”

Suddenly, you don’t feel very cold anymore with heated blood rushing through your veins. His chest rose and fell with even breaths, his slightly chapped lips curved into a half-smile. He takes a step closer and into your space, but this time you don’t mind.

“But sometimes you don’t need an answer. I certainly don’t need one.”

When he looked at you it’s as if every ounce of breath was taken from your lungs, floating into the air like midnight smoke. You bite your lip, your breathing becomes softer, the pensive look melting into a smile as soft as the morning light. You squirm just a little as your muscles relax. There’s something about his gaze as if at that moment your souls have made a bridge.

You chuckled lightly. “You are crazy.”

“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” he chuckled along.

Heads turned at the sound of the bus zipping down the street and you gaped at it.

“That’s my bus!” you yelled, running after it. Steve followed behind. You barely made it to the door and quickly got in, heaving deep breaths as you climbed up the steps. You turned around towards Steve. He waved goodbye with a soft smile. You took a step down and leaned out of the bus to give him a kiss on the cheek, setting a sweet fire in his soul.

“Don’t be a stranger, ya hear?” you flashed him a smile.

“You know I won’t,” he grinned wide.

You got in and the doors closed. He stood for what felt like an eternity, relishing in the sweet aftermath of a simple kiss, feeling hopeful for the future.

“Yes,” he pumped his fist towards him. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” he exclaimed while doing a victory dance.

You watched him from the window of the bus and giggled. He was such an idiot.

TAGLIST: @ashwarren32 @rootcrop @siriusement @savedbystark @little-dark-empress @great-goddess-of-sin @boxofteenageideas @imsonick @scuzmunkie @achishisha @calwitch @chuckennuggets1213​ @captainchrisstan​ @voltage-my2dlove​ @thirstybunz​

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 30

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 5,379

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Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

"Chorus?! That's bullshit! There must be some mistake, lemme see that thing," Lea snatched the paper off from where it'd been taped to one of the auditorium doors, causing it to rip a little as he did so.

Sighing, I stretched a hand out to try and retrieve the cast list from him, "Don't be silly, it's fine. It makes sense."

He yanked the sheet out of my reach, squinting at it with a perturbed frown before scoffing. "Makes sense my sweet ass. Where's Marluxia? Me and that cotton-candy-haired punk are gonna have words."

"You'll do no such thing," I finally managed to get my hands on the paper, prying it free of his fingers. Seeing it was now horribly wrinkled to boot, I grimaced and taped it back to the door, doing my best to smooth it back out. Then I slipped my hand into Lea's and started half leading, half dragging him back towards where he'd parked his car. "And it does make sense. They don't know me. They've never worked with me before. On top of that, I did choke a bit at the start of my audition. They can't trust a starring role to someone that's inexperienced and that they're unfamiliar with, not until I've shown them how I do in a background part as well as shown them that I'm capable and that they can rely on me."

"But you were the best one at the whole damn tryouts!" he huffed back. "What are those numskulls even thinking? I tell ya, if I were the director, it woulda been no contest. You'd be the leading lady like that," his fingers snapped.

"You're sweet and not at all biased," I rolled my eyes with a soft snort. "...honestly, I'm actually a bit relieved to be starting in chorus. I'd rather take it slow, ease myself back into theater and not take on too much responsibility right out the gate. It'll give me a chance to feel it out and see if this is something I really want to pursue. And if it is, I just have to put in the time, do the grunt work and by the next time they're putting on another production, maybe then they'll have enough confidence in me to give me a lead part."

Lea harrumphed. "They better. Otherwise I'm gonna kick Marluxia's stupid butt."

I hid a small grin behind my fingers, "He might not even be the one directing next time."

"Don't care. His ass will still be the one I kick outta pure spite."

A snerk escaped me, followed swiftly by a tiny, bubbling laugh. Lea glanced towards me, the corners of his eyes crinkling. As we came to a stop on the passenger side of his car, he tugged on my hand, pulling me up against him. He slipped one arm around my waist while his other came up to tuck some of my hair behind my ear as he ducked his head down, kissing me thoroughly.

Breath? Gone.

Knees? Jelly.

Brain? Mush.

As he pulled away and I struggled to remember how to take in oxygen again, I asked, "What was that for?"

"Just cuz I can," he winked, planting a light peck to my forehead. "You know this whole dating thing we're doing? Huge fan. Ten out of ten. Would recommend."

Face warming, I gave a derisive snort. "Sap."

"Yes, but I'm your sap," he nuzzled his nose to mine before releasing me to unlock my door and hold it open for me.

"Sap squared," I promoted him with a chuckle as I took my seat, reaching for the buckle. "Cliché sap squared."

"Too true. And you wouldn't have me any other way," he beamed before shutting the car door. My eyes followed him as he made his way around to the other side of the vehicle, one corner of my lips twitching up.

No. I suppose I wouldn't.

"Alright, next stop," Lea said as he plopped down into his own seat, retrieving his shades from where he kept them tucked in the sun visor and slipping them onto his nose. Thankfully, it was only his aviators. But I seriously doubted I'd seen the last of those ludicrous heart-glasses. "Lay that address on me, chica."

I fished the little piece of paper it was scrawled on out of my pocket and he tapped it into his phone as I read it off to him. Then the device began reciting directions in a bored monotone, his engine roared to life as he started the car and we sped off. We hadn't even been driving for a full minute before I heard a… peculiar noise coming from the back seat. I blinked, then glanced back over my shoulder. Had I imagined it? ...no, wait! There it was again! And it seemed to be coming from the floor behind my seat, where piled in a rumpled heap was…

"Um…" I quirked an eyebrow at Lea. "...your jacket seems to be barking…"

"Hm?" He was keeping his eyes on the road, but I didn't miss the hint of a smirk tugging at one side of his mouth. "Oh! Yeah, that. It does that from time to time. Needta train it to be better behaved."

My eyelids drooped. "...maybe you should feed it or take it for a walk."

"Nah, that'd only encourage it and then I'd never be able to get the damn thing to quit yapping," he snerked as he stopped at a red light. Then he was reaching behind me to shove his leather jacket aside, revealing a big box, its lid decorated with a frilly bow on top. He hoisted it up with a small grunt and deposited it into my lap. "Here. Was originally supposta be a Congratz-On-Landing-The-Lead present, but now it's more of a Congratz-On-Being-Glorified-Scenery present," Lea chuckled, scratching his cheek.

I lightly swatted at his shoulder. "There are no small parts, only small actors," I quoted with a shake of my head before directing my gaze back to the gift. I could feel it twitching and shifting slightly in my lap as it gave another couple of muffled barks.

Gee. What could it be? I really do wonder.

(Note the sarcasm.)

I was just glad to see several air holes poked into the lid. Come to think of it, Lea had been keeping his windows rolled down too. Sighing and smiling despite myself, I lifted the lid up. Sure enough, a puppy poked its head out to greet me, one that was a super white ball of pure fluff. The same one that's stolen my heart at the pet store when Lea and I had stopped by a while back. The one I'd dubbed Marshmallow. "Lea, no. I told you already that my complex doesn't allow pets." My chiding words were at odds however with my delighted chuckle as I picked the little guy up to hug close. "You shouldn't have gotten me a dog."

"I didn't," he said brightly as the light turned green and he stepped on the gas once more. "I got myself a dog."

I stared at him blankly as I felt the pup flicking its tongue along my chin. "...so wait. In essence, you got yourself a gift to celebrate me being glorified scenery in the play?"

"No, I got myself a gift to celebrate you getting the lead in the play. Not my fault you failed to live up to your half the bargain," he tsked before laughing as I gave his shoulder another smack, this one with more force behind it. Then as we shifted lanes, he flashed a smug grin, "'Sides, keeping the furball at my place gives ya an excuse to come visit me more often."

Petting the puppy's soft fur, I snorted, "Manipulative."

"Hey, what you call manipulative, I call incentive."

"You're right," I hummed as my fingers scritched behind Marshmallow's ear, a sly curve to my lips now. "You're definitely not enough of an incentive on your own for me to make the trip."

"Rude! You're lucky I think you're so cute," he reached over to pinch my cheek. I ignored him, holding the dog up in front of my face so we were nose-to-snoot. Marshmallow wagged his tail, licking the tip of my nose and I heard Lea grumble, "Oh sure. You he gives puppy kisses while all he ever gave me was tooth hugs."

"Tooth hugs?" I echoed, brow furrowing slightly.

"Lil furball's been tearing the shit outta my ankles nonstop," his face pinched sourly and I couldn't help a small laugh.

Once I'd sobered, I said, "I thought you said Saïx would murder you if you ever got a dog. How are you not dead?"

He flicked on his turn signal. "Oh trust me, it's not for lack of trying on his part, but bastard's gotta catch me first. The trick is to never stop moving when I'm home. Stay in one place too long and I'll get pulverized. Also got six different deadbolts locking my bedroom door now to keep him out, though I'm just waiting for him to get pissed enough to Kool-Aid Man his way through our shared wall."

"Hope I'm there to see that," I grinned, shifting to cradling the puppy in my arms in order to maximize belly rubbing efficiency. "Surprised the little guy managed to stay quiet for so long."

"Me too. Squirt was yipping up a storm the whole drive over when I was coming to pick you up. Was worried he was gonna ruin the surprise. But musta just wore himself out eventually and took a nap or something."

"Mm," I just hummed distractedly. "Also kind of shocked you were able to snag him. We saw him at the pet store, what… two weeks ago? Would have thought someone would've adopted him already in that time."

"Heh… well, I didn't exactly pick him up today..."

"Yesterday?" I glanced towards him and he gave a weak chuckle, shaking his head. "Then when?"

Lea scratched a finger behind his ear. "Er… same day we went to the roller rink?"

I blinked a couple times, then deadpanned, "...as in the same day we went to the pet store?"

"That'd be the one!" he nodded as he pulled up to a stop sign, his hand coming up to pluck at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. "After you left to go home, I went back. Ya just liked the lil mutt so much, I couldn't help myself. It was an impulse buy. Five seconds after I became a proud, new dog dad though, I felt like a total dumbass. But woulda felt like shit if I'd tried to give him back, so..." he shrugged, "I kept him."

My gaze returned to Marshmallow as my lips pursed to one side. He panted happily back up at me. "...I didn't see him that one time Saïx had me over for dinner. How'd you manage to hide him?"

"Stashed him away at Xion's for the night. Couldn't risk you finding him and realizing what a twitterpated bonehead I was," he snerked as the car propelled us forward once more.

I bit back a little grin. "But it's okay for me to find out now?"

"Well yeah, course! Since you're my girl and all now. Back before we were dating, me buying your dog was weird and possibly a lil creepy." He shot me a smirk, "But now it's just sweet and endearing!"

"If you say so," I murmured, only listening with half an ear as I smooshed and squished the pup's face.

His head turned slightly towards me and I could practically feel the slight narrowing of his eyes behind his aviators. "...crap, I'm gonna have to compete for your affections with that damn fleabag now, aren't I?"

I struggled to keep a straight face as my finger booped Marshmallow's cute little nose. "Is it really a competition if you've already lost?"

"Oh-ho, I see how it is," he snorted as he checked the rearview. "Well don't be too alarmed if next time ya see me, I'm down one dog and up one pair of a brand spanking new white, poofy earmuffs. The two things'll be totally unrelated. Pure coincidence."

I gave a tiny, amused huff and rolled my eyes. Then I leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for the puppy. You're very sweet."

He ruffled his hair, "Shit, if it's always gonna make you this happy, I'll have to buy myself more gifts!" I made a noncommittal noise in my throat, all my focus diverted once more to playing with the dog. Lea gave a defeated sigh but smiled. Then he asked, "So… how's Anna been doing?"

I frowned slightly. "...okay. She's… better."

The altercation with Hans had been a few days ago now. By the time Anna had gotten through with him, he'd staggered out of my apartment with a limp and a black eye. I hadn't heard from him since, though part of me did wonder if he was just taking time to lick his wounds before coming back to further profess his supposed love for me. Guess it just depended how much of a hard time his parents would give him and how easily he'd break under the pressure.

As for Anna, once she'd spent all her rage on rearranging Hans' face and had nothing left, she'd proceeded to bawl her eyes out. She never took breakups this hard, but apparently she'd really thought Hans was it. The One. After such a rude awakening to the fact that he wasn't and having her heart shattered, I didn't blame her for having a bit of a breakdown. She'd ended up staying over and Rayne and I had turned it into a sort of a girls night to try and cheer her up. We'd binge streamed romcoms until 3 a.m. which honestly, with Anna wailing through every single one, I had no clue if they were making things better or worse. But she was the one who kept putting them on one after the other, so I'd just let her as I hadn't had the heart to deny her.

In the days since, it was obvious Anna was still down, even though she tried to hide it behind sunny smiles and loud laughs. Still, she seemed to be on the road to recovery.

"She's strong," I added softly after a brief lull, fingers absently toying with Marshmallow's paws. "She'll bounce back. Just needs a little more time, that's all."

Lea's phone suddenly gave a small ding, announcing that we had arrived and our destination could be found on the right. Luckily a spot had just opened up on the curb for him to turn the car into. I unbuckled my seatbelt as the engine shut down and opened my door, stepping out onto the sidewalk. My arms were still holding the puppy and I unfortunately had to concede that I probably shouldn't bring him inside. Spinning one-eighty, I set him back down inside the car and he immediately tried to hop out to follow me. My hands shot up to block him and he retaliated with sad eyes and a whimper.

Oh, this little con artist.

Laughing, I stroked his head soothingly, "Now now, Marshmallow, no need for all that… we'll only be gone for a few minutes, I promise."

"Awfully presumptuous of you, naming my new pupper," Lea teased as he appeared at my side now, a paper shopping bag that he'd retrieved from the back seat on his way out of the car now dangling by the handle from his fingers. Rubbing a curled knuckle over his chin as he glanced skyward, he smirked. "I was thinking something more along the lines of…" now he stretched a hand out, dragging his splayed fingers through the air as if the words themselves were magically materializing in front of our very eyes, "...Imperius, the White Death and Destroyer of Worlds."

I shot him a dull look. "...bit long to fit on a dog tag, don't you think?"

"Not if we use really teeny font!" his grin twitched wider and my eyelids just drooped in response. "Fine, fine, ya have a point. Hm… compromise? How 'bout... Marshmallow, Destroyer of Worlds?"

One corner of my lips turned up, "I can live with that." Giving the puppy one final scritch under the chin, I cooed, "Be back soon, Mr Worlds," before locking and closing the car door. As I turned to fully face Lea, it came to my attention that he was now scrutinizing me with a squint and a little frown. My eyebrows knit together. "...what?"

Without a word, he abruptly bent forward and friggin' licked the side of my neck.

With a small yelp, I squirmed and jumped back, hand flying up to clamp over the now damp skin as my cheeks threatened to spontaneously combust. Lea's face twisted in distaste as he spat and razzed his tongue, "Yeck, concealer. Thought so. Knew there was no possible way my masterpiece healed and faded that quickly."

Ah. He was talking about the Mother Hickey. I nodded with a sigh, "Yeah, Rayne helped me figure out how to cover it up."

Stepping closer, he hooked a finger under my chin to gently turn my head to one side so he could take a better look, muttering, "Hmph. Nice job, Raindrop. Matched your tone perfectly, never woulda even known it's there. But also… so not cool. I'm an arteest! A maestro deserves to have his pièce de résistance on display for all the world to see."

"Not when your canvas is my neck, maestro," I snorted, getting on tiptoe to plant a quick peck to his lips as I took the bag from him. Inside it was a powder blue sundress, a pair of ankle boots, and a phone book.

He gave a tiny pout, but it quickly melted into a grin as he took hold of my free hand, lacing our fingers together. "So… you ready for this?"

I spotted the little store we'd come here for and started walking towards it. "Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

"Ya sure the dude even wants all this junk back? It's more than a lil used now."

"Well, it's a used clothing store, so I'm sure it's fine," I shrugged.

Lea chuckled, "That old phone book is rumpled from water damage and is practically a rat's nest. No, scratch that cuz calling it that sullies the good name of rat's nests everywhere."

"It doesn't matter," I exhaled heavily. "I told the man I'd bring it all back and that's what I'm doing. If he won't take any of it, then I'm happy to pay him back for it all with interest." On that note, we stepped through the automated sliding doors beneath the big sign that read Wandering Oaken's Trading Post.

The store looked the same as the last time I'd been here. The cluttered racks, the secondhand clothing all but bursting out of every nook and cranny, the rustic decorations on the walls and hanging from the ceiling… all of it exactly the same. It honestly surprised me a little. I would've expected some changes since it felt like my last visit had been absolute ages ago. I had to remind myself that in reality, it'd hardly even been two months since.

I hoped the man (employee? proprietor?) who'd assisted me back then wasn't also exactly the same as I remembered him. All angry and stocky and big. I gulped, feeling my breathing turn shallow as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Surely, he wasn't still mad and wouldn't rip me limb from limb on sight, right? And surely, my memory had to be lying to me and exaggerating. No one, not even Lea, was that hulkingly ginormous… right?

"Hoo-hoo! Big summer blowout! Half off swim su-" the familiar voice immediately cut off as its owner, that same man I'd recalled, locked eyes with me from across the store. "You!"

Nope. He was exactly as terrifyingly ginormous as I remembered him.

Suddenly - and I don't quite know how exactly, because I didn't remember moving - I was hiding behind Lea.

Huh. Seemed like my latent surprise teleportation powers had activated to catch me unawares once again!

Taking a deep, steadying breath to settle my nerves and get a grip, I slowly creeped back out from behind him to respond to the man with a shaky smile and a tiny, "Me?"

He abruptly came charging at me and I swallowed a squeak, screwing my eyes shut.

This was it. The final countdown. The last roundup. I could already see the fabled white light. Was already watching my life flash before my eyes. Could hear an angelic choir singing somewhere. All but feel the-

Those giant tree trunks he had for arms unexpectedly wrapped themselves around me, crushing me to him in a spine-cracking hug that lifted me several feet off the ground and forced a surprised grunt out of me.

Um…?

"What is this?" I wheezed as I was swung to and fro like a ragdoll. "I don't understand what's happening."

Lea snerked, being absolutely zero help as he simply crossed his arms and watched the absolute epitome of bear hugs continue. "Apparently, this is how he deals with shoplifters. His own unique brand o' vigilante justice."

"Well it's cruel and unusual punishment!" I croaked out, kicking my feet and trying to wriggle free. "How do I make him stop?!"

Miraculously, he chose that second to release me of his own accord, shooting me a big smile that took up over half his face, "Oh thank you, deary! Thank you!"

...okay, not quite the greeting I'd been expecting.

Like, at all.

Both eyebrows shot up my forehead as my hand went to rub at my elbow, "You, uh… you remember me?"

"Of course, deary!" he nodded eagerly, tapping his fingertips together.

I squinted at him uncertainly. "...and you remember that I… stole from you?"

More enthusiastic nodding, "Ya, ya!"

...was I the only one totally bewildered right now?

My eyes darted over to exchange a brief glance with Lea, who just shrugged his shoulders.

Oh good, so it wasn't just me then.

Looking at the worker once more, I hesitated for a split second before awkwardly thrusting the bag out to him, heart thudding loudly in my ears as I began, "Well I… I brought it all back like I said I would… even the phone book! It's all still in decent shape… er, except for the phone book, that is. I can compensate you for that though and… and the dress and shoes too, of course! That is, if that's what you'd prefer... and I'll even pay inter-"

"Nonsense!" he gently pushed the bag back towards me. "Keep it all, it's yours. And your munny's no good here."

I stared at him blankly. "...I'm sorry, I'm confused."

The man beamed at me now, "Your dress, deary! The one you left behind in the fitting room and said I could have? I must say, that had to have been some costume party you came from! I sold that gown for enough munny to pay for all four of my sons' college tuitions! So I insist, keep those items! And please let me know if you see anything else in here that you'd like, ya?" A sudden low chime rang out overhead, signalling that another customer had walked into the shop. Gracing me with one final warm grin, he then plastered on his customer service face and walked past me, waggling his fingers in greeting, "Hoo-hoo! Big summer blowout!"

Frowning slightly, I watched him go before I heard Lea say in realization, "...you left your wedding dress here."

My fingers twisted and fidgeted with the bag handles. "Sort of… yeah."

He shook his head with a snort. "Shit, El, a gown like that made for your upscale, hoity-toity, blueblood wedding? You didn't shoplift, you way, way overpaid!"

Feeling heat creeping into my face, I gave a tiny scowl and huffed, "Well, it certainly felt like shoplifting, the way he was yelling and chasing after me when I ran out the store!"

"Babydoll, you just lost some serious street cred," he chuckled, pressing his lips to my temple. "Seriously though, just ditching it in some random fitting room? You coulda sold that thing for bookoo bucks and made this whole striking it out on your own thing way easier on yourself."

"You said the same thing about my car back at my parents' home. But just like with the Ferrari, that dress was bought and paid for with my parents' munny," I sighed, crossing my arms. "I don't want to accept so much as even a single cent from them if I don't have to… I don't want to feel like I owe them anything. And I just… I didn't know what else to do with the dress, really. I just wanted to be rid of the wretched thing."

He tsked, tapping a finger to my nose, "Oh you. Always gotta do things the hard way, huh? Silly." Reaching for my hand, he then started us meandering about the shop, idly perusing the racks and shelves as he went on, "If it'd been me, I wouldn't have thought twice 'bout pawning that dress for some quick cash. What's the big deal where the munny came from? All that really matters is how you spend it to give yourself a better, happier life. Turn bad into good, ya know? I- sweet!" he cried out abruptly, eyes lighting up as he happened upon a clump of feather boas draped across the corner of a chaotic, jam-packed shelf. Snagging one that was made of red feathers marked with black stripes, he wrapped it around his neck with a flourish before batting his eyelashes at me. "How do I look?"

I rubbed my fingers over my tiny smile. "Beautiful. Simply gorgeous."

"Damn skippy!" he chirped, now spotting a full length mirror nearby and moving to admire himself in it.

From insightful to kid playing dress-up in under two seconds flat. That had to be some kind of record.

Seeing that the employee had returned to his post behind the cash register, I walked over to him. "Hi again. How much for one-"

There was a sudden giggle at my ear that was distinctly Lea's, followed swiftly by a second feather boa being looped around my neck, this one comprised of blue feathers with white tips. With that, Lea zipped off once more, this time heading towards what looked to be the toy shelf.

I blinked in his wake, then shook my head with a soft hum of a laugh. "I'm sorry, how much for two feather boas?"

"Holy shit, this orca action figure comes with a tiny machine gun! And-" Lea gasped, running back now to excitedly show it to me, "-it also turns into a goddamn freaking robot!"

Patting him on the cheek, I turned back to the cashier with a sigh, "And the toy too."

"For you, deary?" he asked, still happily tapping his fingers together. "Free of charge!"

My head rocked back slightly. "What? No, but-"

"Oh hell yes! Thanks, big guy, and have a great day!" Lea cut me off, snatching up my hand and bolting out the store, forcing me to stumble after him as the cashier called out after us to do the same.

As we exited through the automated doors back out onto the sidewalk, I said, "Lea, wait!" I dug in my heels, bringing us both to a lurching stop. Then I frowned over my shoulder back towards the little shop. "I'm not comfortable with this. He's only giving us this stuff because of that stupid dress and I told you already-"

"Don't look at it as benefiting offa your folks munny," he grinned, taking the bag from me to tuck the toy and his boa inside with the other stuff. Then he set to work uncoiling mine from around my neck. "Instead, try this on for size: ya did a good thing with that dress. Maybe even the best possible thing ya coulda done with it. You donated it to the worthy cause of paying for the education of that dude's small army of kids. And if that's not enough for you, here's another way to look at it: ya traded in a wedding dress worth a sultan's ransom and all you got in return was a handful of cruddy, secondhand junk that altogether costs maybe twenty bucks max. On the divine cosmic scale of ethics, I think you can consider your conscience clear and your heart light as a feather."

Now fully freed from the feather boa, I released a tiny huff through my nose as I watched him slip it inside the bag too. "Well, when you put it that way…"

"It's settled then," he beamed, slinging an arm around my shoulders and guiding me back towards his car. "Now onto the next item on the list!"

My head tipped to one side. "There's more? But with this place checked off, I thought that was the whole list."

"Maybe your list, but we haven't even begun to scratch the surface of mine. And first up is immediately correcting one epic fail on my part."

"Oh?" I arched an eyebrow at him.

He nodded, "Mm-hm! For ya see, I've been grossly neglectful in my boyfriend duties. Can you actually believe I have yet to take you out on our first proper date since officially becoming a couple?"

A tiny smile fought its way onto my lips. "For shame. The absolute scandal."

"I know, right? People are already beginning to talk, my good name is being dragged through the mud," he puffed out an overdramatic breath, shaking his head.

I laughed. "Well then, what did you have in mind?"

As we came to a stop next to his car, he tapped the window glass where Marshmallow was pressing his paws up against the other side while barking his little head off. "For starters, how 'bout we take this lil fellah to a park somewhere for a few hours? Once he's all played out, we can drop him off back at my place. Make it real quick, in and out before Saïx wakes up and realizes he's been unknowingly volunteered for doggo-sitting duty." Setting the bag down on the roof the car, he then faced me, taking both my hands in his as he idly started toying with my fingers and murmured, "Then I was thinking I could take ya somewhere nice. Maybe Le Grand Bistrot? And after that…" he gave a lazy shrug, that dimple of his emerging, "well, guess we'll just see where the night takes us from there."

My eyes crinkled as I stared up the few inches that separated us. "Sounds perfect."

It'd been one wild and, at far too many points, absolutely absurd ride that had brought me here. And it was far from over for I still had a long road ahead of me. I'd yet to even determine what exactly I wanted the future to hold for me, and that was okay. I could hardly be expected to have the rest of my life already planned and mapped out after experiencing only a couple short months of freedom. Come now, that would be unrealistic.

But it didn't truly matter that nothing was really decided yet. What mattered was that I was the one who would get to decide, no one else. And for the moment, I was just deciding to focus on what was immediately before me. Today, I had a date with my boyfriend. Tomorrow would be a shift at my job in a mall ice cream shop. And the day after would bring the start of rehearsals for community theater. All in all, it was nothing grand, nothing fancy… but it made me happy. And for now, that was enough. More than enough. I could figure out the rest in my own time, and that sounded pretty good to me.

In fact, it sounded absolutely amazing.

THE END

…sorta?

Author's Note:  And thus we come full circle... it ends where it all began way back in chapter one... cheesy, I know XD Okay, I rarely finish stories and thus I don't have a lot of experiencing doing it, so factor that in however you will in judging this final chapter xD I know, it was stupidly, cavity-inducingly sweet and not a lot happened, but damnit it's my story and I'll end it how I want to! Oh, and the toy Lea found wasn't a reference to anything, it was just something stupid I found on the internet that I figured the goofball would go absolutely nuts over xD

So, you probably have questions about that "...sorta?" at the end there xD Well that, my friends, has to do with the good news I mentioned that I had for ya'll a couple chapters back! Although the big, main plot of the story is now complete, there will be *drum roll*... bonus chapters! Wooo! These are more like self-contained one-shots that generally have time passage between them anywhere from a few days to like a month with no real overarching plot connecting them, which is why I'm not considering them a part of the "main" story. However, I will still be just slapping them at the end of this story, keeping it all in one place as opposed to posting them as separate fanfics, just because I can! I do what I want, yo! These bonus chapters will cover various events (relationship and non-relationship alike) for our new happy couple - as well as some that are just for pure funsies due to random ideas popping into my head that I really wanted to write xD I just always write the "how they got together" story and have never written them as a couple, so I'm excited to finally have a good excuse to do that! Plus now I can share with you guys how things go from here - stuff like relationship milestones, fam drama, Elsa's further adventures in theater, and much more! If you guys have any ideas of your own for a one-shot you'd like to see, please let me know! I make no promises about actually writing it, BUT there's a very good chance I'll read your suggestion, the plot bunnies in my head will go wild and I'll have no choice but to write it anyway xD 

ANYWAY! I already have written and completed a few of these one-shots, so my once-a-week updates can continue for a little while longer! But fair warning - when (not if, WHEN) my updates catch up to as far as I've written, my once-a-week updates will be reduced to whenever-the-chapter-is-frigging-done updates xD

Whew! I think that's a wrap! Thank you so much for reading my lil story here, I super duper appreciate it! I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far! Seeing those lil notifications pop up always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

See ya next week for the first bonus chapter, which is a silly, for funsies one-shot xD I'll give you a hint... helmets are involved! Ooooo, what could it be?! Stay tuned and find out!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

[heli0s-writes]

IV. I’m in the mood for love

Summary: Beyond the sass and the crass lies a tender moment Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: Maybe I wrote myself into a pickle? Idk but I teared up a little at the end. Also this is the most politics I’ll ever put in my work-- let’s keep it civil and chill if we disagree.

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

 It’s a miracle that you had worked up the courage to trot downstairs to return the only covering that separated two bare-ass naked men from your eyes. And not to mention yourself, who was only covered in a towel, too.

You make Steve stand so far around the corner of the doorframe that all he can do is stick out his hand. Bucky rustles the shower curtain impatiently and makes a comment on how “non-hyperverbal” you’re being and you’re too nervous to even respond back. When Buckyeye starts looking at you and the swinging white hem at your shins, you shoo him up the stairs before he gets any other bright ideas.

“Didn’t know you were such a prude.” Bucky comments later as you fiddle around in the kitchen, “But I guess it makes sense-- you still have those stuffed animals on your bed.”

You bristle and glare at him, “Just because you didn’t have a childhood doesn’t mean I can’t.”

It’s a little too mean, and you hear the venom that shoots right into him as soon as it leaves your mouth. “Sorry.” You comment. Damn it. He grew up in the fuckin’ Great Depression where everything was dusty and shit.

“Not all of us can travel the world eating caviar at the ripe age of four.” Bucky snarls. Ugh. Why’d he have to do that?

“Oh, fuck you.” You retort the same time Steve sharply calls Bucky’s name to reel him back in. It doesn’t work, as Steve knows, because when you and Bucky get into it—you get into it.

“You wish, princess. Wait, you’re such a goddamn prude, anyway--”

All Steve can do is cross his fingers and bark, “Buck!”

It’s too late. You’re across the room before Steve can say much else and you’ve launched yourself over one empty couch and straight into Bucky sitting on the other. The force knocks it slightly and it teeters before flopping back with a muffled thud.

Buckeye begins to run around in circles, unsure of the kind of play this particular moment is.

You have no idea what you’re doing, and you doubt you even want to—or can-- hurt him in any way, but you are so finished with his bullshit. You death-grip his hair as you jab both knees into his abdomen. Bucky moves to rip you off, but you clamp your teeth over his wrist and he yelps.

“Fuck you!” You scream, “fuck you so much! I—ow! I fucking apologized, you—Ugh!”

Buckeye, ever the perfect audience member, begins to bark to the rhythm of your screeching and aggressively nudges Bucky’s foot with his snout.

Soldat’s metal hand pushes your face back until its tilted up to the ceiling and further beyond, precariously suspended. The only thing keeping you from cracking your skull on the coffee table is your clinging to his hair. Steve’s concerned expression is upside down and his arms are outstretched, trying to determine the right configuration to pry the two of you apart. “Get that fucking! Aluminum foil finger the fuck away fr---”

“Shut up!” Bucky’s palm smashes against your mouth as his legs wrap around your back until you’re a squished human pretzel inside of him. You’re too crushed even to make any sounds and behind you Steve is sputtering vowels and consonants but not stringing together any real words. Finally, he nearly shrieks,

“Bucky! Jesus! You’re gonna actually kill her!”

Yep. This is how you’re gonna go, you think. The Winter Fucking Soldier has officially had enough of your bullshit, too, and he is going to bear-hug you to death. Who would have thunk it? Your fingers disengage and fall uselessly over his arms.

When time begins to slow and your soul starts to yeet itself from your body, Bucky blessedly lets go. “You’re bluer than I was in cryo.” He sneers.

Steve gasps, scandalized by the comment. For whatever reason, he’s covered Buckeye’s ears, too. You would send him an incredulous look, but you can’t feel your face.

With a pathetic whistle of air, you flop backwards and hang upside down over the couch, thighs gripped tightly by Bucky, heaving deep breaths until your lungs feel like they might burst through your rib cage. No wonder you are not a superhero—fuck the hubris, you are physically not built for this shit.

“I think I’m gonna vomit.” You mutter when Steve’s face begins to spin alongside your dog who slobbers all over your nose. Bucky yanks you up by the front of your shirt and the cough that blasts from your mouth goes right into his face. His smug expression twists into one of disgust and you take the moment to waggle your eyebrows suggestively.

Your sour mood has fled and now that you’re absolutely sure you cannot kick his ass—you return to the one thing you do know you’re capable of:

“Hey, baby. Is that a glock in your pants or are you just really happy to see me?”

To drive your point home, you bounce on his lap with a wide grin, wiggling your butt in exaggerated motions.

“Okay! That’s enough!”

Steve scoops you up and plants you back on the other side of the coffee table. “That’s too smart! Too smart!” He scolds as you pat your bottom and then curtsy. Bucky only huffs and crosses his arms, refusing to meet your gaze. Ha-ha. Winter Soldier, meet your match—Ass Woman. No, that just sounds like a porno.

“Alright, fuckers.” You declare, stepping over to the built-in bookshelf around the flatscreen and retrieving a leather-bound copy of The Wizard of Oz. “Ready for chili?”

They watch you open the front and stick your hand inside the false pages and retrieve a roll of bills. “What?” You ask nonchalantly. “Oh—shut up, Barnes. Like you guys really need me to pay back the vet fees. Technically, my tax dollars pay you.”

Steve shakes his head no. So, you casually toss him the roll of cash and then pull out another one.

“Jesus! Will you put these back?”

“Look,” You say, “For every month I don’t come home my mother puts another wad in this box.” You show them the pile of rolled bills, each encased in varying sizes of rubber bands. “She thinks it’ll ensnare me, but joke’s on her, the more I’m away the more there is to spend. She’s not very smart—a consequence of never having to think for herself.”

“And you’re fine with spending it?” Bucky ponders. The relationship you have with your family grows more confusing the longer they spend in your parents’ house. The memorabilia littered in your childhood bedroom seems to suggest that you aren’t completely detached from your family or your childhood. The way you respond to being home is paradoxical, too—disgusted at the excess one minute, reveling in it the next.

“It’s just fucking money. They make so much of it. I couldn’t bankrupt them if I tried. My father has offshore accounts in the fucking Caymans. I literally could not.”

They both pause before Steve speaks up, “Are you an only child?”

You frown. “No.” Then you aggressively push him by the shoulder and toward the exit, motioning for Bucky to follow. “It’s fucking Skyline time.”

Suddenly, you pause at the door and turn around to put both your hands on your hips. Looking both of them up and down, you shake your head impatiently. Steve is wearing his civilian Captain America outfit again. And Bucky, honestly, Bucky looks like someone cosplaying Bucky.

“Who dressed you?” You demand, exasperated, “You guys like, do spy stuff? It’s baffling to me that you don’t get caught immediately. Steve—khakis?”

Upon being admonished, he scoffs and looks around, “What’s wrong with my khakis?”

“Will you please tell him something?” You ask Bucky, who only rolls his eyes as if to say, you’re fuckin’ telling me. When it’s obvious that Steve’s poor choices are solely the result of him being an old fuck with no fashion sense, you mumble. “At least switch shirts. I’m going to take Buckeye out… please… fix this.”

-

When you come back, the sight of Steve wearing black and Bucky wearing light blue is so discomforting you cover Buckeye’s eyes. “It’s okay, boy.” You whisper loudly. Bucky flips you off but fixes the hem of the shirt he’s sporting. Steve—for whatever inexplicable reason, has decided to tuck… You quickly yank his shirt from his waistband and shake your head. “Christ, why are you like this?”

--

Untucked and uncomfortable in black, Steve looks at the menu as if the letters on it were runes from an ancient past. He doesn’t understand at all what Skyline Chili is or why it is. They’re coneys—this he does understand. But the rest of it—nope. Why would anyone ever need that much cheese? Bucky mirrors his sentiment by shutting the menu and crossing his arms.

The small bowl of oyster crackers in the middle of the table is being torn apart as you shovel handful after handful into your mouth. There is an inordinate amount of hot sauce sprayed on the top of the crisps, and you wipe your hands haphazardly on a napkin when you’re finished.

“Okay. You feelin’ spag or nah?” You ask, not even looking up. “Spagbol.” You continue, “Spag-y. SPAGHETS!” Then, in a terrible and very offensive Italian rendition, you pinch your fingers together and enunciate, “Its-a-spha-ghetta!”

Bucky slumps down into the booth until you stop. Steve puts his hand over his eyes.

“Why would you put chili on spaghetti noodles?” Bucky hisses.

The waitress arrives right after his question and you reach over to take his hands into your own— still reeking of peppers and vinegar from the hot sauce. “Shh,” You say almost tenderly, “Adults are talking now.”

“I hope you rub your eyes with that hand later.” Bucky snarls.

“I’ll cup your balls with it, instead.” You respond.

The waitress whimpers at the conversation she’s just stumbled into.

--

Six coneys arrive and as well as two plates of spaghetti. You explain to the boys that the Skyline specialty is steamed buns, mustard, special secret spice chili, raw onions, and hella shredded cheese. The noodles come with the same, sans mustard, and if you’re feeling extra frisky— beans. One plate is extra frisky today. Then you unscrew the cap to the hot sauce and shake the shit out of it onto everything.

They are bewildered at the sheer excess of American consumption as you shove almost half a coney into your face. Cheese flops down onto your plate.

“I think I’m gonna vomit.” Steve whimpers.

“Big baby, wimpy, Stevie can’t eat the cheesy?” Between mouthfuls, you’re still a dick. “Just try it! What are you, six?”

He glares at you and then sends a puppy-dog look to Bucky who already is lifting a coney to his face. You take another bite and watch them do the same.

Immediately, Steve coughs. Bucky starts laughing so hard he drops the pile of shredded cheese all over the table. You tuck into the overflowing plate of spaghetti, hot noodles melting the cheddar on top into an amalgam of gooey yellow. “I can’t do it.” Steve groans, “This isn’t right. This isn’t what God wanted.”

“God is dead, bitch.” You reply, “There is only Skyline Chili.”

--

“So what’s your deal?” Bucky asks from the couch.

The three of you have returned back to the house, winding down for the night. It’s eight now, and you’ve driven them around the city just to show them the sights. The gentrified downtown with its bustling crowd of young, white party-people interspersed with streets of dilapidated buildings and homelessness. There’s a bitterness to your voice when you talk about the changing scenery—but a kind of sadness, too. You admit you don’t really know the solution. The business brings in money to the city, but all the people left behind are really getting left behind.

You show them the more relaxed areas, like Over the Rhine and point out its massive brewery. You promise to take them there soon. There’s also the famous Cincinatti Zoo, and King’s Island, where you swear is better than where Steve wanted to go- Coney Island #2. There’s no point in taking him there, you declare when he starts to sputter, because he only wants to go to shit all over it, and because King’s Island is way cooler.

“What do you mean?” You ask back, flipping through the stations with your feet propped up on the coffee table. Steve and Bucky are sitting side-by-side under a blanket. There is a bowl of chips and hummus shared in their laps since Steve refused to eat during dinner and is now very cranky.

“All of this. Excess. Money. And then... you.” he waves to the house, then to you, sprawled out carelessly on a leather couch in mismatched pajamas. Buckeye’s head is faithfully in your lap, big eyes peering up at you, as if he’s waiting for an explanation too.

“You hating on my penguin top and pumpkin bottoms or what?”

“C’mon...” Steve beckons, knowing that your deflection is just another cop-out.

So, you groan, because they’re teaming up on you and after almost three months it’s bound to happen. They’ve told you so much about themselves already. You’ve learned all about the personal lives of the Commandos, the war stories, serums and experimentations, the cryo, the trial after the Triskelion... the blood, and sweat, and all of Steve Rogers’ tears.

“Well... it’s not as exciting as you think it is.” You mutter, tugging on Buckeye’s ear, finding the texture comforting under their persistent gaze. “Just a dumb girl born into an obscene family.”

But you tell them, truthfully and genuinely. Your family has old money- oil, or steel, probably both. As a result, you grew up in the lap of luxury, private schools, language programs, singing classes, dance lessons, horseback riding, trips to Europe and Asia, enormous birthday parties and a line of suitors as soon as you started growing breasts. The worst part, you admit, is that you loved it.

The picture they picked up in your room was from junior prom, and the date was a boyfriend- family friend- you’d been with for about six months, and he already planned on proposing. That was just how it was. Rich people marrying other rich people continuing the line of one-percenters.

Really, you say, your family was maybe the 10 percenter-range. As rich as maybe low A-list movie stars, not quite Jeff Bezos. But you know him, too.

“What changed?” Steve wonders out loud for both him and Bucky.

“Living in New York.” You half-smile at the memory of Union. “After Ohio State, I went to Union for my graduate studies and it blew my shit wide open. But that’s what happens when you start opening yourself up to other realities.”

You tell them about the immense struggle the first year at Union, feeling ostracized and realizing that your life is nothing like most peoples’ lives, and then beginning to frame your understanding of the world in a different way. You tell them you got mugged once and you felt like you probably deserved it.

“Then the election happened.” You sigh, and they both groan at the reminder. “As you know... it’s just been downhill and fucked. We had a big falling out here over Thanksgiving holiday.”

You didn’t come home in almost two years. You took out loans, you worked two jobs, took a full course load and wrote a thesis, and then went on to your Doctoral program. Your parents reached out to you and you eventually came half-way back into the fold.

“And spending their money?”

Most of the money you get you give to the local shelters. “That’s just direct action, baby.” You laugh. “We go at it, all the time. But you know, I figure... If I have to live in this shit world, might as well be a bastard about it.”

That earns a hearty chuckle from both your guests. “Jesus, that explains a lot.” Bucky grins as you nuzzle Buckeye and plant a kiss on his wrinkly face.

It feels so much better now that you’ve aired all the dirty, 1000-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.

Steve hops up from the couch and runs downstairs, “Be right back!” He yells. You and Bucky narrow your eyes at the trail he’s padded into the carpet. In the distance, you can hear his rummaging and then thumping footsteps back up into the living room. He’s perfectly in one piece, because he’s Captain Damn America and nearly flying up a flight of stairs ain’t shit.

“I figured this would happen.” He grins, holding up a metal flask. “It’s time to break out the Asgardian mead.”

--

The three of you are drunk on whiskey and space-juice, tumbling around the downstairs living room. You are banging on the piano keys, tapping out a stuttering and off-kilter rendition of The Magic School Bus theme song while they wrestle. Why is it that no matter how old boys get, they still love to wrestle? Around their legs is Buckeye, running around in circles and panting, like a racecar at the Indy—only making left turns, having the time of his life.

“Get a fuckin’ ROOM!” You scream, throwing another shot down.

“You mean your room?” Steve laughs back, head under Bucky’s arm, tapping uselessly on his ribs.

“Captain America, fuckin’ in my room. Carve that on my grave, baby.” You mutter, as the piano lid slams down and you take a bow, knocking the bench over with a crash. “Oops.”

“Thas direct action, baby.” Bucky parrots you, “You’re so fucking lame.”

Buckyeye leaps into the air and licks him on the face. “Fuck!”

“Yeah, defend my honor, Buck!” You whoop. “Not you!” You point to Bucky, who flicks you off with a cackling laugh. The sound of it flutters into your ears like a ghost- leaving cold trails down your back. Suddenly, you get an idea.

“Hey-- you guys on Twitter?”

--

They sit crosslegged on the floor flanking you as you scroll determinedly through what seems to be endless tweets. There are other tabs open, too, of compilations of these. Thirsttweets, you explain. The internet loves and wants to bone the hell out of Captain America. Some of them want the Soldier there too—just watching, apparently.

Steve is seventeen shades of red and a little bit of purple. Bucky keeps cursing under his breath and at one point, you think, is reciting Hail Mary. It’s a million times worse than your playlist.

Who’s Got the Biggest Dick in Baseball is nothing compared to captain america could spit into my mouth and id say thank you

“I would never!” Steve gasps. “Or that!”

The tweet in question says: ruin my life big dorito daddy

“What does that mean?” Bucky groans, a little ruffled by all the lewd attention Steve is getting.

“His back is shaped like a Dorito, duh. Don’t get jealous, big boy. You’re next.”

For whatever reason, Bucky’s tweets are way worse. Maybe it’s his persona—that redeemed baddie type of thing. People eat that shit up like chips and dip—and apparently want to eat him too.

As long as I have a face, Winter Soldier has a seat rearrange my guts, Sargeant Sexy When will James Buchanan Barnes put his fist in me? WHEN? I didn’t know I was into getting choked until I saw that metal arm.

You snort whiskey into your lungs in the middle of reading one out loud and spend the next five minutes with your insides on fire. Steve has his head in Bucky’s lap and there are tears coming out of his eyes both from Bucky’s clenched jaw and you, crumpled into a heap spewing amber.

--

A jazz tune belts out from the surround sound system. Steve has picked a Music Choice station from the seemingly endless list of cable possibilities and of course, being a nostalgic thing, chose Swingers — wait, Singers and Swing. Your brain is loopy with joy.

“Didn’t you say you took dance lessons?” Steve asks nonchalantly.

“Uh-huh,” you sigh on the floor, legs crossed over Buckeye as you pull him down on your tummy. Rolling side to side with you, your dog begins to groan and flop, aggravated at your antics.

“You know, Buck used to dance.”

“Uh-huh, you sure did, didn’t you, big baby?” You kiss Buckeye on the nose.

“Bucky. Bucky, not Buckeye.”

He returns from the restroom with his hair pulled away from his face, changed into a long sleeved soft shirt and sweats. “What?”

“You used to dance!” Steve urges with a flick of his wrist, “Get on out there!” He waves his finger to the carpeted living space where you are spread-eagled, trying your best to keep your dog next to you. Damn it, you want cuddles!

“You want me to lead her? Stevie, I couldn’t lead the girl to water if she were a horse.”

“I am not a whore!” You cry indignantly, shooting up from the carpet and knocking Buckeye over with a yelp.

“A horse! Jesus H. Christ, ya deaf!”

You probably are, you think, as the music slurs itself into one long whine. Bucky grabs you by the hand anyway, determined to prove some point to Steve. He turns you around until you face him and takes a second to start on the right beat.

It’s like a switch has flipped and he becomes all step and sway as he moves to the music, leading you, too. Some vestigial memory digs its way out of your muscles from all those damn dance lessons and your feet point and tap along with him, hips rocking when he spins you around and pulls you back. A grin slowly breaks across his face, big and lopsided, all teeth.

You feel like a little puppet in complete submission to him as he expertly uses the perfect amount of momentum to change your course.

Laughter bursts forth from your mouth as you whirl dizzily around Bucky, hands clamped tightly in both of his. The room is a blur of colors and the blue of Steve’s eyes, watching.

At one point, you stand hip-to-hip side-by-side and kick your feet together before he takes you by the waist and dips you low. You’re breathless as he laughs, mirroring your puffs of warm air from above, wild with motion— his hair slipping from behind his ear to hang over your forehead.

“Holy shit you got moves.” You proclaim as the song finishes and he tugs you up with a satisfied chuckle. A slower melody comes on and you move to return to the couch where Steve is sitting with Buckeye, but Bucky tugs you again, closer.

He places one hand behind your back, resting on the ridged thread-bare waistband of your pajama shorts, and the other one he holds up to his chest. You blink away the fuzzy spots from your eyes and peer at him, looking so far away even though he’s just inches apart. His expression has changed, dropping into something distant and removed and staring straight through you.

You see it now. He’s not Bucky anymore.

It hits you like a bag of bricks, that this is James Barnes, in all his glory as a beautiful Brooklyn boy. Out dancing with a girl. Laughing, just like this: bristled, square-jawed and cleft-chinned. Wide, pouty lips. Bright steel eyes. Before he was a soldier, he was just a boy.

Before he was The Soldier, he was just a boy.

His chest rises and falls slowly as he takes a deep breath. The crooning in the background is tender, melodic, with the singer’s sweet voice pining for her loved one accompanied by delicate plucks of a piano.

Once, too, he pined.

The tears in your eyes spill over when you press your mouth to his. Bucky lets go of your hands and you catch his face with them, instead, holding onto his head, fingers grazing his ears and neck and brushing away his hair. You kiss him as if he might be shipped out to war tomorrow. It hurts even more to know that he probably had a night just like this, in the arms of a girl he loved, right before his entire life changed.

And then, you tear away and look at the couch where Steve sits, chewing on his lip, red-eyed too. You sob uncontrollably when you rush around the table and into his arms. He wraps them around you, pushes his face down into your shoulder.

“I love you guys.” You whisper, curled up in Steve’s lap, because the story of Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter was never explicit in the history books, but you know it too. “Oh God. I’m so sorry it’s like this. I’m so sorry.”

Steve forgets sometimes, that they were ripped out of time. He forgets the torment and tearing of Bucky’s entire being. They busy themselves in tomorrow and moving forward so much that they bury how the things that made them also broke them.

You are clinging onto his shirt, crying for him now, for both of them. Two handsome soldiers, living, dying, resurrected again. Having only each other to know and hold.

Sergeant Barnes of the 107th closes his eyes and presses his lips together. When he opens them, he is Bucky Barnes of the terrible, modern age once more. He crosses the room quietly, as he always does, as he was made to do. He sits down next to Steve as you look up at him with love and sympathy and so much sadness he can’t stand it. He links his hand in yours and smiles in a way that cracks your heart right open.

“Don’t get weird, kid.” Bucky whispers with moist lashes. Your laugh is strangled when it escapes your throat, all wet and whine as you squeeze his fingers tighter.

“I love you. You don’t understand.”

Steve breathes a sigh into your shoulder and rubs his damp cheeks on the penguin print of your sleeping shirt. From next to him, Buckeye looks up quizzically and gives his arm a long, slow lick.

“Yeah, yeah,” He mutters, swatting at your dog’s snout lovingly, lips pressed into your collarbone. Then, he kisses you too, tipsy and torn open. In the background, Julie London sweetly croons:

If there’s a cloud above and it must rain, we’ll let it.

But for tonight, forget it.

I’m in the mood for love.

Next Chapter

[cozycryptidcorner]

“This takes place in the universe I’m working on! Some of my followers might recognize the characters, I’m drawn them plenty of times before. I’ve been wanting to actually write the relationship, but have been working on the plotline beyond what ya’ll see in order to do so. I hope you enjoy these two dumbasses as much as I enjoy writing about them!”

This can’t get any worse, AJ thinks, as it inevitably gets… well, worse. At least instead of freely orbiting through the vastness of space, she gets caught in a planet’s gravitational pull, but that opens a whole other can of worms that involves things like possibly burning up in the atmosphere. She doesn’t know if her spacesuit has any kind of heat guards or impact safety measures beyond the basics, but oh boy, she’s about to find out.

Being caught in a gravity well is sort of like how AJ imagines being caught in a whirlpool while completely paralyzed and numb all over. It’s an inevitable sort of horror, though she can’t actually feel friction of any kind, like someone on the outside might think she would be experiencing, her spacesuit at least makes sure of that. From her position, she can see the planet through her tinted visor, a soft, golden shade overtaking everything it possibly can.

There are two possible planets she could land, twins, locked in each other’s gravitational pulls, and she doesn’t know which one claimed her first. Her so-called team briefly stopped in the system, trying desperately to pull the energy of the sun to refuel the damaged warp engine and repair the external damage before the accident.. Her body flips over, tumbling, plunging, flipping head over heels, wholly unsure of the direction she is heading, much less the planet that has decidedly grasped onto her frame and pulls her ever closer. She has thrusters, but they won’t so much when barreling towards the ground at high speed; however, maybe she can angle herself so that she bounces right off the atmosphere bubble?

She has to think over this very quickly. Which sounds worse, floating in a vacuum and hope someone who aren’t the space pirates her crew was running from picks up on her suite’s emergency beacon, or pray her suite can take the impact of a crash and try to make contact with the natives? Tentatively, she tries working her thrusters and quickly realizes by the lack of movement that they must somehow be damaged. Awesome. Incredible. Her day is just getting better and better.

There’s a blinding flash, and she realizes that all other options are now unavailable, because she is now falling to the planet’s ground. She’s also on fire, that’s why it’s suddenly so bright. The light control on her helmet kicks in a moment too late, her eyes ache from being exposed that, but she can’t do anything about it. Her brain fizzles for a moment, and when she opens her eyes again, she realizes that she must have fainted for a few seconds. The systems operator is going insane, flashing messages running across the face shield, one of them politely suggesting that she call for assistance because it appears she’s moving faster than the recommended speed the suit can tolerate without disintegrating.

Helpful advice, but AJ knows that slowing down will probably aid in her survival, so she maneuvers her body around so that she’s parallel to the ground, spreading out her limbs to create surface drag. A warning pops up in front of her face, letting her know that the heat of reentry is melting the outer layer of her suite. She doesn’t even have any time to panic, though, because she’s trying to figure out if there are any sort of functions she can use as a makeshift parachute, something, anything to cause enough drag that will increase her chances of not pancaking into the ground.

It’s so very unbearably hot. AJ’s suit’s internal systems try to let her know, unhelpfully, that the air conditioning is not compensating enough for the external heat. AJ thinks she might start crying but tries her best to keep her shit together so she can focus. A part of her wishes that the impact could be instantaneous, but the ground doesn’t seem to be getting any closer. The descent controllers work, though, miraculously slowing her fall to the point where she is no longer on fire.

She hits her thrusters, hoping they might decide to work now, though nothing happens. Then, miracle of miracles, sees that the option for the descent controllers is still available. Nothing that will guarantee a soft landing, but it might be enough to keep her bones from shattering on the impact. She hits the release and two hexagonal shapes pop out on either side of her, the difference in speeds almost immediate. Her body wobbles uncomfortably, but nothing breaks off, thankfully

One problem is out of the way, but another one is fast approaching. She can’t really control her descent beyond angling her body slightly to fall a little more forward, so it’s not as though she can pick where she’s going to hit. There’s a loud snap as her body rams into a tree, and the damn thing cracks in half as though it were made from weak plastic. There’s a dull pain on her hip, AJ can feel the suit take critical damage, but she doesn’t fucking stop. It’s like she’s chained to a speeding train, her body skidding through the forest, the leaves and branches doing little to stop her, the protective layers of the suit beginning to crack and warp.

AJ can hear the pop of her chest piece as it fractures, and parts of her arm guards begin to rip off. Just as it looks like she’s finally stopping, she slides right off the edge of a cliff, which, incredible! Excellent addition to her day. Water leaks into the cracks of her armor, and her breathing apparatus beeps a warning that it can’t manage to sort oxygen from other harmful molecules anymore. A current sweeps her away, just as merciless as the gravity has, and AJ has to figure out how the fuck to get the helmet off so she has a better chance to breathe.

The weight of what is left of her armor drags her down, but she tries to focus on one dilemma at a time. The release buttons of her helmet are almost welded together, which only leads to further panic, thus speeding up her oxygen use. After a few, shaky moments of being tossed about in the water like a ragdoll, she finally managed to release the helmet, letting it get sucked away by the current. When she manages to find and break the surface, she barely has time to take in two, gulping breaths before her foot catches something, and she’s yanked back under.

She flails, terror building because AJ did not survive a freefall through a planet’s atmosphere just to fucking drown once she hit the ground. Again, she manages to surface, if only for the barest moment, and she quickly goes back down. She tastes blood in her mouth as her chin hits something solid. Then, by some other miracle, she’s again up, jerked roughly from the water, and she can finally breathe as something- or someone- drags her out of the river and onto the grassy banks.

At first, all she can do is sputter any water out of her lungs, too shaken from the river to do anything. A hand sets on her back, and she turns to look over her so-called ‘rescuer’ as a headache fully setting in once she manages to sit up on her own. Actually, everything hits AJ at once, a shudder of pain rippling through her body like a goddamn tsunami. With trembling fingers, she begins to peel away what is left of her armor, side eying the… the person with a curious glance.

He’s remarkably tall, she can tell that just from his kneeling position, his legs slim and long. His gaze holds hers, eyes wide, pupils small, as though he sees a ghost, which AJ supposes if fair. This is most likely his first time seeing someone from outside his world, his shock is understanding. AJ is, after all, completely desensitized to all things’ alien,’ she can’t imagine what he must be thinking.

“Thanks for getting me out of there,” AJ says, her voice raspy, and she can tell her face is swollen just from the areas of pain that come with speaking. After prying her gloves and finger guards off, she finds that most of her hands are covered in blisters, which explains why moving them hurt so much. When she wipes her nose with her wrist, it comes back tinged with red.

He answers, but when all she hears is a string of gibberish, AJ realizes that the universal translator must be fried. Her day just keeps getting better and better, because she needs to ask him to help pull the arm plating off next. Her fingers are dripping with pus and blood, some of her blisters popping from the effort, and with the way that the metal has melted and hardened weird on her arm, she’d be surprised if it’s only bruised.

“I need your help,” she says, slowly, in case the translator is just having some minor processing issues, “can you,” she gestures in his direction, “pull this,” she taps on the armor and mimics a good yank, “off for me?”

He seems to catch the gist, hesitantly reaching over, his long, slim fingers grasping the end of the metal awkwardly, as though he isn’t sure where to grip. As he pulls, there’s a sharp pain that runs up AJ’s arm, but she tries not to make anything more than a soft grunt as the plate pops off its attachment. Before she even has a chance to recover, he holds his hands out, taking the opposite piece in hand and doing the same thing. That one hurts a bit more, though, and AJ finds herself letting out a quiet whimper.

The alien quickly places a steady hand on her shoulder again, a comforting gesture that catches her off guard, and then he helps pull off all other parts of the suit until it’s just an exoskeleton. It’s a bit more complicated to get off than the external plating, since it involves a load of switches and locks, safeguarding her body against the vacuum of space. AJ’s fingers are stiff and aching, but she somehow manages to undo all the bells and whistles, and with her brand new friend’s help, she actually gets the damn thing off.

Her arms are covered in dark, swelling bruises. Patches of her skin are burned, much like her fingers, and she doesn’t want to know what her legs and feet look like quite yet. She can’t even wrap her arms around her chest to fight the oncoming chill since, beyond the obvious, her left arm spikes with pain every time she bent her elbow. Something in her stomach gurgles, she isn’t sure if it’s anxiety, hunger, or the fact she might have accidentally swallowed half of that river while she was fighting to breathe.

She starts crying. Not full-on sobs, but the tears are there, sliding down her already wet cheeks, mingling with the blood and snot that’s dripping out of her nose. The alien looks like he’s about to panic, and glances self-consciously over his shoulder, pointing to somewhere in the trees. He stands, and yes, AJ’s first observation about his height is correct. Good god, he has legs for days, the cool, blue of his skin remarkably reminiscent of a clear, sunny day back on Earth.

Oh, and he has horns. AJ doesn’t know how she missed that part, plucking the translator from the rest of the discarded suit and tucking it against the waistline of her leggings. He helps her up, slowly, carefully, clearly aware of how the more bloody and battered body parts are strictly off-limits. AJ doesn’t know how she could possibly walk, but she somehow does, another miracle to add on today’s list. Just because she can, though, doesn’t mean it’s not absolute agony,because there are a lot of things happening at once and none of them are good.

She’s suddenly overcome with pain, and she can’t do it. She can’t go any further. Her legs are quaking, her balance is warped, and just as she stumbles, the alien catches her. Carefully, conscious of her other injuries, he wraps her arm around his neck, placing his other hand on her wrist, effectively pulling a significant amount of weight off her feet. It’s torture, but she quietly tells herself that the pain will end just over the next landmark. They’ll get where the alien has them going soon, just beyond the trees. Beyond that big rock. Over the bridge.

And then there’s a house, small, rectangular, made from dark pink clay up ahead. AJ breathes out a gasping sigh of relief as the alien steers her there, letting her in through the awkwardly placed door, into the warm glow of weak, artificial light. Lightbulbs. Electricity. That’s a worthy observation because that pops the lid off dozens of possibilities that come with such a technological advancement, including things like functional, decent medicine that AJ is probably going to need in the near future.

There’s someone else in here, but AJ doesn’t try to be too worried. A woman, older than him, it looks like, judging by the slight creases in some areas of her face, and she’s looking at them like… well, like she’s seeing an alien for the first time. That’s also pretty fair. AJ tries to make herself seem like less of a threat, though she doesn’t really know… how to do that when she’s almost broken apart from the fall. Surely she possesses no sort of danger to these people?

They speak, and all she hears is garbled nonsense, though there is an undertone of familiar syllables that signals that her translator is trying to do its job. The female gestures over to a nearby table, and she is now ferried over to a kitchen area and seated on a comfortable wooden chair. The two proceed to converse, while AJ tries to use all her linguistics training to pull meaning from the gestures, tones, and facial expressions alone. After all, it is her goal to eventually be able to communicate with unknown species from the ground up, as is most linguistic anthropologists without technological aid. Might as well start now.

The older one sets a blanket around AJ’s shoulders, then goes about something around the kitchen area. Carefully, AJ undoes the straps of her giant work boots, wincing as her fingers bend around the straps. Her feet are horribly swollen, she can already tell without looking at them, and she’s almost afraid that she will have to cut the damn things off. Luckily, though, once everything’s loosened enough, her feet slide out with minimal effort. Like her hands, her toes and heels are burned, the red, raw flesh already peppered with popped blisters, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to walk for a good couple of days at least.

A bowl- no, cup, is set in front of her, the older one must have made her something to drink. Before AJ has a chance to pick up the ceramic mug, the female picks up her hands, looking over the wounds with a skilled glance, clucking her tongue sympathetically. After a moment of banging around in a drawing tucked to the side, she returns with long strips of cloth and a glass jar filled with some sort of paste. Carefully, the female patches AJ up, a sharp, biting sting overtaking her senses as that sticky stuff is unceremoniously smeared all over her hands and arms.

AJ dimly wonders if this is what a mummy partially feels like as her hands, fingers, and forearms are wrapped firmly in the bandages. Despite the burning pain from the salve, she feels… tired. Like she could just go to sleep at this very second. Slowly, she drinks the tea, though that doesn’t help the drowsiness, watching the two people go about their day like an extraterrestrial isn’t chilling in their kitchen area. Now, she can’t be sure unless she like… actually speaks to them, but the older one seems to have some sort of parental authority over the one who saved her from the water. Like a mother and son dynamic?

Her eyes drift closed, and AJ finds herself fighting them back open. Is she even safe to sleep? She doesn’t know, there hasn’t been any sort of weird vibes from the natives. Self-consciously, she takes another sip of tea, wincing as her hands move weirdly against their wounds.

The one who pulled her from the river disappears for a few minutes in the back of the house, then returns, wearing something entirely different from the simple tunic he sported earlier. The fashion is… Well, it’s something, that’s for sure. Lots of ornaments dangling from his ears, horns, and nose, dozens of piercings that she hadn’t noticed now plugged with gold-colored jewelry. There’s something more aggressively strange about his outfit, too, with a longer skirt and an open front, and he’s quick to avert his eyes when he catches her staring.

The female says something in passing, probably to her, but AJ doesn’t understand any of it. She finally takes the time to finally pick up her universal translator in an attempt to repair it. Not that she has any sort of confidence in her engineering abilities, though, because to put it nicely, she’s not really an electronics person.

When the masculine one actually leaves, though, ducking out from the door, AJ is overwhelmed with a sense of absolute panic, though she doesn’t really know why. She trips over herself, trying to stand, and she doesn’t know what she would do once she finds her footing, maybe follow him, but her feet just are not capable of walking anymore. He returns to her side as she crashes into the ground, hoisting her up by her waist, and she catches a whiff of his scent. Oh, it’s nice. AJ didn’t think that the indigenous people of technologically unadvanced planets use things like cologne. Still, he definitely smells different than when he first pulled her out of the river. He picks her up, arms hooking under her knees and around her waist, like a bride, and carries her through the hallway.

The bedroom he enters is cluttered, yet clean, a collection of things lining the walls and various shelves, clothing folded and carefully placed in little cubbies dug. AJ is then placed onto a bed, which is good, because she’s tired, but she’s also aware that the alien is just going to leave her, and a part of her is remarkably nervous over that. Even so, she buries her face in the blankets, struggling to find a comfortable sleeping position to accommodate all of her injuries, and she still manages to sleep, fully aching.

[funkymeihem-fiction]

King Jamison

A 3k commission fic for https://pandaioh.tumblr.com/

Thanks for your support!

***

Beyond the thick metal doors that had once protected the heart of the ruined omnium, Mei could hear the din of the crowd. Junkers, many many junkers, had all crowded into what had once been the arena, chanting and shouting as they waited for the spectacle to come. Ordinarily, it would have been gladiator matches, mecha-battles, or the gruesome spectacles of omnic executions. The arena was where they always gathered, to bay for blood and oil and death— violent celebrations in a violent land.

Not today. Today was the day they crowned their new King. And that King was already late to his own coronation.

Hurrying down a nearby hallway, she lifted a fist to bang on another door. “Jamison! Jamie, you were supposed to be ready ten minutes ago! I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep them waiting!”

His reply was muffled within. “Ah, yeah! Just getting this…thing! On! Ow!” There was a faint crash and rattle. “Okay, almost ready!”

She pressed one ear to the door, squinting suspiciously. “What was that? What are you putting on in there? We already got you that suit to wear to your—”

“Heh! Did you actually thing I was gonna wear that thing? No proper junker wears suits, much less their King! I’d be pelted with shit before I got a word out. No, these are special occasions. And that calls for…special accoutrements! Voila!” 

The door abruptly hissed open while she was still leaning on it, and Mei stumbled and nearly crashed face-first into him. One long arm reflexively launched out and caught her, yanking her upright and putting her back on her feet. She only stood there, eyes wide and not even seeming to notice her near-accident. She stared for a long while, before sputtering and gesturing up and down him with both hands in clear disbelief, starting to laugh.

“Jamie! What on earth are you wearing?”

Junkrat was clad in a very gaudy array of stolen relics, gold, jewelry, pearls, and all manner of riches, strung out over an outfit that was literally printed with gold-threaded dollar signs. His peg leg had been replaced with a royal scepter, and an extremely enormous and extremely silly crown was set at a jaunty angle atop his head.

“It’s called royal attire, Mei,” he said proudly, opening both arms wide. “Look at this, I’m practically jingling with bling. Blingling! Feast your eyes!”

“I can’t feast my eyes. I can’t even look directly at you, I’d go blind.” She pushed her glasses up and covered her eyes with both hands, clamping them over her face as he grabbed onto her and started trying to pry them off. “Nooooo!”

“Yeah!” He continued pulling at her fingers, snickering wildly. “Mei! Lookit me! C’mon, you love it! You’re gonna—”

A harsh static noise emanated from Rat’s belt. His communicator crackled to life, and Roadhog’s thrumming baritone offered them a warning. “You’re late. We’re breaking up fights already out here.”

Junkrat cursed and fumbled, snatching it up to his mouth. “Got it! Tell ‘em the King is about to make his grand appearance! Mei, help me tie the thingy!” He swept a ridiculous fur-lined red velvet cape around his narrow shoulders, leaning down so she could tie it for him, slicking down what remained of his hair and adjusting his oversized crown. “Ready! Roadie, we’re on our way!”

Mei leaned up to place a very quick kiss to the tip of his nose before ushering him forward, headed down the hallway towards the arena. “Are you sure we’re ready for all this? I still don’t really know all that much about junker culture but… I’ve got some plans I’ve been working on. We could introduce specialized agriculture, repair the environment, get better medical supply lines… With that mean Queen gone, do you really think we can help Junkertown?”

“Well she’s gone for good. And since I’m the one what took her down, that means I’m in charge! King Jamison Fawkes, his true and royal highness of Junkertown! All will finally bow down! And ya know what, anyone who ever made fun of me in this town? Executions! Executions left and right!”

“Okay, Mr. Maniacal Dictator, that is not at all what I had in mind. We only stepped in so we could help the junkers. Until Junkertown’s government is figured out and the Queen’s underlings are dealt with and things get more organized… that does make you the active representative. I’m not sure if it’s really classified as proper ‘royalty’ but—”

“Ugh, you’re making it sound all suit-like. You gotta remember who you’re talking about here. I’m the one who got rid of the Queen, so I’m in charge. That’s junker law, so just say it with me. King! King Jamison Fawkes, don’t it sound lovely? And since I’m the King…I’ve already got a few decrees in mind.” He stopped short before the door, listening to the chanting on the other side. His face split into a grin, teeth glinting with gold veneers, eyes gleaming with that wild look that always made Mei nervous. “Yeah. Got a few idears already.”

“Jamie—” she began, but it was too late.

The doors rushed open, and he lifted both arms and swept forward, cape fluttering behind him. The crowd roared at his appearance, an echoing din of howling bloodthirst from the desert’s most dangerous people. Some chanted his name and welcomed him, others screamed in sheer enthusiasm for whatever the hell was going on, and still others booed and sneered while under the watchful eye of Junkertown’s enforcers…which included the massive pig-masked man who loomed menacingly near the throne as Junkrat took up his place in front of it.

Mei remained hidden within the little hallway, only occasionally peeking out as she listened. His screeching tone wailed over the tinny microphone, his speech broadcast throughout the arena and throughout all the rest of town where they had crowded to listen. And Mei didn’t…really understand all of it? It was extremely fast-paced and littered with Australian slang and junker vernacular, with no small amount of curse words and not-so-subtle threats about his new rule, all screamed into the mic as he paced back and forth with his cape trailing behind him.

The Queen was gone, overthrown and removed from power. A new power had taken over, and his strength had outdone hers. And it would outdo theirs if they tried anything. This desert was theirs by rights, and he’d be acting Overseer for the entirety of inland Australia. Junkrat was calling the shots now and— That guy! That one with the suspicious look! Seize him! — No bones about it, Junkrat was the new power in Junkertown and he wasn’t to be tested.

To anyone else it would have sounded demented, positively tyrannical… but Mei only listened as the junkers’ cheers grew louder than ever. She knew that they respected strength and strength alone, but she had hadn’t really known how they might react to their former leader being deposed. They seemed to take to this new line of royalty with few questions asked. So far Junkrat was openly confident about being in charge…and to them, that simply meant he must have been in charge? What a strange—

“And as your new King…” he was saying into the mic, suddenly turning back to face her hallway with that too-wide grin. “Well, a King’s gotta have a Queen.”

Mei’s expression went slack, staring back at him. Oh no.

He outstretched his metal hand towards her, the spotlight shining down upon him. “Sorry to break your hearts out there, ladies, but I have just the right Queen in mind already. A proper Queen! C’mere, show ‘em your beautiful face, darl!”

Oh no.

Roadhog was suddenly at her side, motioning her towards the spotlight. Shooting him an absolutely terrified look, Mei took his arm and crept very cautiously forward, until they had joined Junkrat out on the floor. Her hand was shaking as she lifted it upward, but Rat seized upon her fingers and lifted it with his, urging her up against his side and almost enveloping her entire body in that stupid King cape of his. Grinning violently at his onlookers, Junkrat squeezed her covetously and planted a kiss on her hair, shrieking into the mic again.

“And you’re all gonna give her the respect she deserves, or else! So! I’m gonna just…crown her here…” He produced a crown, much smaller than his and far less gaudy, and gingerly went to place it atop the shellshocked girl’s head. “There we are! All hail, Queen Mei the Merciless! Give us a few words, Queen Mei!”

She had apparently just been literally crowned, reaching up dumbly and feeling the alien touch of cold jewel-studded metal under her fingertips. She found the microphone thrust up towards her face, the spotlight blinding her, surrounded by junkers on every side. She swallowed hard and leaned forward under his arm, clearing her throat.

“Um, hi?” She said, just as the ancient microphone screamed with feedback and the junkers in the audience began snickering. She winced, glancing up to Junkrat as he nudged her gently, nodding to the mic. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I-I’m really looking forward to um, working with everybody? I’ve got some plans that I think will set us all off on the right path, for a brighter future. I think with teamwork, we can do anything. And we can do this together. J-just remember, our world is worth fighting for!”

The junkers stared at her blankly. Out in the audience, somebody coughed loudly.

“Roight! Thank you, Mei the Merciless!” Junkrat snatched the mic away and squeezed her up against his side. “Didja hear that, you worthless bastards! She said Junkertown’s worth fighting for! So we’re gonna have a fight alright! We’re gonna roll in this reign with two brand-new contenders in the mech fighting arena, just after this! The blood’s gonna be flowing…and so are the drinks! Free beers all night, courtesy of your King and Queen! That’s all, mates!”

The world exploded around them, the cheering and stomping almost as loud as an omnium explosion echoing from decades ago. Several brawls immediately broke out and junker enforcers began wading through the chaos, ripping junkers off of one another. The beers hadn’t even been tapped yet, but the blood was already flowing. The newly proclaimed royal couple turned about and headed back towards the relative safety of the fortress, trailed by their pig-masked standover man who took up his position to cover the door.

A broken bottle crashed somewhere overhead and Junkrat didn’t even flinch, as Mei broke away and fled towards the safety of the guarded hallway, practically scampering inside. The heavy barricaded doors soon fell shut behind them, and the chaos outside went muffled as Junkrat’s grin eased and he limped towards her, cape dragging along the floor.

“Well! I think that went pretty well, don’t you?” he said cheerily.

“Tiān a! Zhēn de ma?!” She grasped onto her chest, leaning up against the wall with her crown starting to fall to one side of her head. “You could have warned me!”

He held up both hands in a placating manner, pearls and bracelets rattling. “Wanted it to be a surprise, lovey! Surprise! You’re my Queen!”

Her cheeks puffed, breathing in deeply before exhaling long and low. Wiping a hand uneasily at her face, she leaned back against the wall and resisted his attempts to peel her up away from it. “That was…really one of those things I wish you’d let me know ahead of time. I could have prepared more.”

“Yeah, nah. It’s really not one of those speech-makin’ occasions. I just needed to get ‘em all wound up before the big show is all. Probably the only thing they’re gonna remember from today is the booze and the mech fights anyhow, gotta get on their good sides first thing. But now you’re officially my Queen, and everyone knows to step off from you, because you’re mine!” He tugged at her waist, still trying to pull her up off the wall as his voice went low and cajoling. “C’meeeeere. My first kingly decree is that you gotta come with me. For our own little coronation of sorts…Heh-hehehe.”

“This had better not involve you thrusting me in the spotlight again.”

“Well, no,” he said, voice suddenly going guttural as he wedged a hand under the small of her back and finally managed to pry her up off the wall and into his grasp. “I mean, there is a bit of thrusting you involved but— Agh!” He petered off into another fit of reedy giggles as she went pink and whapped at his chest, squirming to push him away only for him to start pulling her along once more. “Asides, I’ve been waiting for this for years, to take over the old Queen’s digs for meself. Let’s go!”

Mei grabbed onto her crown, holding it steady as she was dragged over-enthusiastically through the maze of omnium halls. Behind yet another series of blast doors was the former Queen’s personal holdings, opening onto a ballroom-sized area that was crowded with more gold, more cash, more treasures, and more riches— enough that it made even Junkrat’s gaudy outfit pale in comparison. The furniture was so lavishly appointed as to be ridiculous, including a bed that was so huge and overstuffed that it looked like four mattresses had been sewn into one, covered in piles of blankets and cushions and a pachimari collection that could rival Roadhog’s own.

Junkrat struck a jaunty pose, gesturing around his new den. “Whaddaya think! Suits me much better than her, don’t you think?”

“Well she certainly liked her displays of wealth. Though I guess you do too,” Mei mused, eyes roaming to the far wall. “What on earth? Is that a giant velvet painting of Wrecking Ball? Who would even commission such a—”

“No time to explain! Get your dacks off!”

Junkrat interrupted her with one brisk motion, spinning her in a circle before bodily tossing her onto the enormous bed. She landed with a bounce and a roll amongst all the finery, and was helpfully starting to undress herself already…Which was fine with him, since it was taking him longer than he thought to remove all his King gear. All the jewelry needed to be unclasped and untied, the gold bars strung around his neck weighing him down before he managed to squirm out from under them, clunking onto the floor. The heavy crown was tossed across the room, and beads and jewels flew every which way as he began shucking off all the things that had taken him nearly an hour to put on in the first place.

Mei turned onto her back on the bed, propped up on her elbows and waiting. “Um, do you need help?”

“No! ‘Cause I’m the King! Hold on, it’s stuck on the—Wait, I got it!” He flung his peg leg back and forth, the joint squeaking as his entangled pants were finally wrested free and slung onto the pile on the floor. He struck the same jaunty pose from before, naked except for the fur-lined cloak that billowed around his skinny body, unfurled dramatically. “And the cape stays on!”

“That sounds like a very official decree.”

“Yeah! Hehehehe, hey Mei. You wanna be christened with my royal sword?” He stuck his tongue out and grabbed lewdly between his legs, waggling his member at her. “Tap it on both your shoulders, make you a Knight Queen. Or I could uh, seize those bountiful tracts of land you got there?” His eyes roved to her chest, then further down. “Or maybe I’m gonna… I dunno, pillage your village? Real King sorta stuff.”

She half-lidded her eyes at him in that amused-but-not-going-to-admit-it sort of way that he loved, snorting aloud. “Ugh, is this how you’re going to be?”

He laughed a shrill laugh and then fell upon her, his long cloak falling over them and trapping them in a soft red curtain full of grasping hands and plush flesh. 

“Can give you the world now, if ya want it—” he mumbled, tongue lapping and teeth biting to leave little half-moon marks in her skin, his hips reflexively moving against her thighs. “Whatever you want, darl, I can get it for you now. Anything. Just gotta say. I’m the King now, just like you deserve.”

“Jamie…” Her gaze softened, and pulled him up out of her bosom to kiss him. “I never needed you to be a King. Just be…you?”

He could do that. He sunk his hips into hers and started to move, until the two of them were panting and sweating inside the sweltering confines of his royal cloak. She called his name and it sounded so much sweeter than how the crowds outside had chanted for him. This new bed was soft, unlike his couch back in his old home, and so were the overstuffed pillows with real goose down, and the satin cushions, and stuffie toys, everything was soft and expensive just like he’d always dreamed of. But she was still softer and better than anything all that money could buy, his hands finding her breasts and burying his face in them just as deeply as the rest of him was buried in her too.

When he came, he gave her everything he had, just like he had always done. And she took it all and seemed to be content, just like she’d said, just like how she’d always loved him. Her breath was sweet against his chest, cooling the perspiration beaded on his skin. Was this what it felt like, to be content? He had everything he'd ever wanted, everything he'd wanted in his entire life, and most of all he had her. For at least a few moments, everything was perfect and quiet…

And then he started talking again.

“Ha! Hahaha! Conquered! I conquered you! See, was all part of my cunning plan. You got conquered!”

Her eyes opened and her expression turned exasperated. “Really?”

He lifted both fists into the air in triumph. “You never suspected a thing! That’s called strategy, right there. Conquest. First act as the ruler of Junkertown, is making sure everyone knows who’s really Boss. That’s me, by the way, I’m the boss. I’m the King. Hooly dooly, though, can I conquer you again? Like…just another minute, and I’ll be ready to conquer? Please?”

His lovely new Queen rolled atop of him, her knees slung on either side of his waist as she straddled his lanky form, both of them awash in red velvet and fur. She leaned down and kissed him again, slender fingers on the side of his stubbled jaw, and tilted his chin up to trail more kisses against his throat. When she closed her lips and sucked a bruise there, he couldn’t help but moan.

“Or maybe…” Teeth closed on the side of his neck before lifting upright, small hands pressing him down into the mattress. Her lips twisted in a cruel little smile down at him. “What if you were overpowered? If I staged a coup right here? Maybe you’ll be overthrown by your own Queen?”

His grin widened, ears and cheeks splotching as they flushed almost as red as his cape, eyes alight as they watched her slide down his long body. He grasped onto her hips, urging her down, eager to take part in being overthrown just a few hours into his reign. If those bedroom eyes of hers were any indication, he was going to enjoy this new Queen’s revolution much, much more than the last one. So he lay back and let her do exactly as she pleased.

“Oh yeah. It’s good to be the King!”