#ya bitch is DESPERATE for a small glass of red

[dilutedconfusion]

A Moth to a Flame

Eustass Kid x F!Reader (Part 3)

UMMM SOOOO YA’LL ARE LIKE THE NICEST PEOPLE EVER. Kisses and hugs to everyone who gives a semi-shit about what I write. I wrote this BEHEMOTH of a chapter and I personally think plot wise its my best yet. So get out your forks and knifes cause we eatin good today!

Summary: Having just found out Kid is a super big time murder machine Y/N is left in shock whilst sitting at the bar. Kid and Y/N finally have a coherent and tangible conversation. Emotions arise but Kid is still a total grump. In a fit of stupidity and some grief Y/N does something that I would not advise doing if you’re not like a professional idiot or something.

Warnings: Gore, NSFW (nothing actually happen theres just some sweet innuendos and mentions of NSFW related things)

Word Count: 6.3K

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tags: @st4rfevrr @archangelshavethetardis @likeeliterallywtf @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @tulipps-maehem (At this point, if you comment something I’m smacking ya right in the tag lists. If you don’t want that just tell me! I’m totes fine with it.)

Kid took a sip of his rum. The cool yet bitter liquid burned his throat and swirled in the deep parts of his gut. Leaning back against the pleather booth he let out a little sigh. His arm was still throbbing like a bitch. Another sign that a strong wave of phantom pain would soon be coming on. But he tried not to think about it. Hoping his brain would stop the onslaught of pain if he got it drunk enough.

Killer was sitting across from him. Using a straw to take periodic sips of his beer. They had been sitting here for a good bit but hadn’t talked too much. A comfortable silence sat between them as it usually did. Kid’s stump randomly twitching now and then though he kept his eyes closed as he tried oh-so desperately to relax.

Watching him quietly Killer noticed the small twitching movement of his partners arm. “Is it hurting again?” He asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible despite his worry.

Trying to hold himself back from being a total asshole, Kid spoke. Opening one eye and letting out a dry sigh. “I lost a fucking arm. What do you think?”

Was that the nicest reply? No. But if anyone other than Killer would have asked that question Kid would’ve just punched them. So he was getting off easy in Kid's terms.

Killer stayed quiet for a moment, grimacing under the space of his mask. “Well, you look a little strained. Is the liquor helping or making it worse?”

Kid finally opened both his eyes, leaning forward and putting an elbow up on the table in front of him. “Helping. Now quit pestering me about this shit.” Kid grabbed his glass and took another long chug of his rum. Finishing out the last bottle he had asked the bartender to make him.

Letting out a hearty burp he felt his torso sway a bit as he sat. He wasn’t drunk but he could feel that warm goopy feeling building up in his brain. Staring blankly at the rest of the vacant and dimly lit room. Listening quietly to the sounds of people in the front room of the bar. The waiter who had taken his order was working the bar itself so he knew she was going to take a while to make an extra round.

“Want me to go get ya some more? I’ll order some food so you don’t crash as hard later.” Killer murmured out, already slightly sliding to the left to get on his feet.

That made Kid's red-painted lips scrunch up, waving his hand at Killer to stop. “Get your ass back on that seat. I got it.” Kid let out a grunt and started sliding off the booth to a stand. His body swayed just slightly but he stood up normally. His huge fur coat lay discarded on the booth seat.

Kid turned towards it and picked it up. His body felt stiff like an old piece of wood. Nearly groaning at even the slightest movement and it annoyed the shit out of him. Feeling light-headed he swung his coat over his shoulders. It was a bit difficult considering the lack of an arm but Kid has since gotten used to it. Making sure that his stump was at least halfway hidden by the fur of his coat. The bandages and torn scars running along his chest were mostly hidden, though he couldn’t hide the fresh scars on his face.

“Ya know…you don’t need to hide it. They are proof that you made it through something shitty after all.” Killer whispered to Kid, knowing it was a sensitive spot on his poor Captain's mind.

Kid’s face stayed sharp and demeaning but Killer's words had gotten to him even if just a little. Letting out a huff of air he responded, “Ya don’t think I know that? I just want everything to heal a bit more. Then I’ll show it off.” With that Kid started walking away from the table, leaving Killer in his lonesome.

He bounded past the other booths. His boots hitting the wooden floor below loudly as he made his way to the other part of the building. The sounds of casual conversation floating towards him along with the satisfying sound of taps being drawn while the bartender siphoned out beer.

Walking up the two small steps that separated the rooms he could feel the air around him get just a tiny bit warmer. The low crackling fire tracing the room with a rich wooden scent and faint smoke. Walking up to the bar he paid no mind to those around him. Leaning up against the wood as another much stronger wave of pain shot up through his stump.

Shit. He thought, gritting his teeth. He would give anything to start rubbing his arm. Soothing the muscles trying to avert whatever pain would come next. But as that same waiter came up to him he had no choice but to deal with it.

She had that same polite smile on her face. Standing on the other side of the bar, her hands filling up beer glasses as she talked. “Run out? Sorry, I didn’t make a round back there. We’re pretty short-staffed right now. What can I get ya?”

“More of the same. And…some fried chicken.” Kid mumbled out, settling down onto the barstool nearest to him. The woman looked him over for a moment. Glancing at his stump and bandages for only a second. Her face turned a bit contorted in what Kid could only assume was disgust before brightening up once again.

Never seen a guy with some wounds eh? Kid thought, almost wanting to say that out loud. If he wasn’t so tired and beat up he would’ve.

Well in truth if he wasn’t in pain he'd be drinking his ass off and winning bar fights. But he was in pain, his throbbing stump a reminder of that.

“Sounds good. I can walk it back there when it’s ready.” She said in that same sweet customer service tone.

Kid just rolled his eyes at her. “I sat down. I’ll stay here and wait. Can’t go back expecting you to remember to bring the damn food.”

The bartender cringed a bit at that but remained neutral regardless. “Sounds good. Let me go get that started for you.” She said awkwardly. Walking away from Kid in a bit of a rush and heading towards what he supposed was the kitchen door.

Kid eyes watched her as she disappeared, letting out a soft tongue click in annoyance. Eventually, his eyes just started drifting. His right hand once again itching to rub his poor stump but he held back. He looked down the line of the barstools absentmindedly to take note of the few people littering the room.

However, something made his eyes pause. They hovered over a girl. She was sitting at the other end of the bar, holding up a newspaper and looking it over as if it were the most important thing in the world.

Wait a fucking minute. I’ve seen her before.

It’s not like he didn’t expect it to some extent but a part of him had already forgotten what a weird little stalker you were. He glanced over your body, seeing the same clothes, jacket, and satchel he’d seen earlier.

Damn, it is the same chick.

He just kept staring at you wondering exactly when you were going to notice him. Your eyes were so glued to the newspaper your damn nose was nearly shoved in it. Even though Kid didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, he couldn’t help but rub your face in your obvious fuck-up.

“So you really-”

“WAH!” Your body jerked randomly hearing that deep voice once again. The newspaper crinkled as your fingers dug into it. Your whole body turned towards Kid at the other end of the bar but leaned away as if he was diseased. “Goddamn it! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“What the fuck?” Kid mumbled out, brow furrowed in confusion as he stared at your beet-red face. Soft eyelashes blinking over and over at him again as if you couldn’t tell if he was real or not.

“What do you mean what the fuck? You snuck up on me!” You yelled, voice faltering a tiny bit as you realized just how LOUD you were being. Covering your mouth with one hand to almost suppress the sheer adrenaline running through your veins.

You hadn’t expected to be talking to him, especially since he was the one to initiate it. The mortifying news about him on the paper mixed with his sudden appearance and this lunging feeling in your gut was a lot to handle.

Kid narrowed his eyes at you, face more bemused than annoyed by what an idiot you were being. “I didn’t fucking sneak up on you. I’ve been sitting here for like 5 minutes just starin’ at your ugly ass and you didn’t even notice me.” He turned the barstool a bit more towards you, leaning his good arm against the bar gingerly.

Taking your hand off your mouth you leaned forward towards him. The multiple chairs between the two of you made the distance of the conversation a bit awkward but that wasn’t going to stop you from being an asshole. “Well if my ass is so ugly, why were you staring?”

Kid's lip twitched at that, his cheeks almost daring to blush red but he held it back. He didn’t like that you had taken his insult in that way. But before he could let it affect him he let the first thing he thought of slip past his tongue.“Cause it's so damn horrific I couldn’t look away. Plus you might as well have been licking that newspaper by the way you were holding it. Following my order like a good little puppy eh?”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, still holding onto the newspaper rather tightly in one hand. Looking down at it for a moment like you should be ashamed before frowning at him. Kid watched and bathed in your reaction, a condescending smile on his lips. It made you reel with anger. Wanting to slap that shit-eating grin off him until he was black and blue.

“I ain’t looking at this 'cause you told me to! I wanted to do this because you wouldn’t tell me who you are. Just so happens that I know who you are now and if my calculations are correct, you’re a total asshole and a lunatic. Though I probably didn’t need the newspaper to figure that first one out.” You told him, voice quiet enough so the whole bar didn’t hear but your tone was condescendingly lethal.

Again Kid just stared at you for a moment. If anyone else would’ve given him even one-quarter of a verbal punch that you just gave him they would’ve been dead on the ground. But he was tired and though he would never admit it, your comeback was good. Letting out a strong puff of air through his sharp nose to calm his urges he decided to take the argument in a different route. One that would give him the advantage over someone who had just a tiny bit of bite to them.

“I get it, sweetcheeks. You’re desperate to know me. To get my attention. Thought you could read up on me so you could handle the real thing easier but clearly you can’t.” Kid said, raising his hand in the air so ‘matter of factly’ though his tone was anything but serious. The glint of his teeth as he smiled and the way his low voice rumbled just made you angrier by the second.

A small tint of red rising on your cheeks out of pure embarrassment. Making mouth go agape for just a moment before you concocted a comeback.

“Q-Quit acting like you're the shit, you glorified puffball. I figured out who you are and if you’re anything like how this newspaper is portraying you in real life, then I should go get a pitchfork and a torch to exile your ass.” You flipped open the newspaper and pointed it towards him. Showing him the two pictures of him committing crimes aplenty.

Hearing you call him a puffball made Kids lack of eyebrows raise in confusion, wondering why in the hell you thought he looked like a puffball. You could see the gears in his head turning as he looked down at his chest to notice the large fur coat he was wearing. Yet still, after another second of mental debriefing, he put two and two together.

“Hey don’t fucking call me a puffball!” Kid said in a slight snarl, a tiny bit of red gracing his cheeks at your comparison. Leaning forward he eye’d the pictures you were holding up. “And I look great there so I don’t know what you’re getting at. They got all my best angles. Even a good picture of me back in my start-up.”

This time it was your turn to be confused, pointing sharply at the pictures of him and even raising out your arm so he could see it better. “So we're just going to ignore all the murder. Ya know, like right here and here and here.” You pointed at the dead crucified bodies hanging limply on their crosses. Blood and splattered guts dripped out of the slightly blue and cold-looking bodies.

Kid rolled his eyes, looking at you as if you’d just said the earth was flat. He rubbed his chin almost to feign boredom as he spoke. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

And with that, you smacked yourself in the face with your palm. Rubbing a hand over your temple and scrunching your face in a mesh of lines that represented pure annoyed disbelief. Taking a deep breath you responded, “Look, I ain’t your mommy and I ain’t going to tell you what you can and cannot do. But, this is my island. You do this shit here and don’t think you’ll be leaving with all your vital organs intact.”

“Well by the sounds of it maybe I should do just that. Give me some entertainment with a good little fight.” Kid immediately quipped back, his face returning to that patronizing smile you oh-so hated.

At this point, it felt like maybe you were talking to a wall. One that was so caught up in having an argument with you he didn’t want to take you seriously. “You are just a complete fucking menace aren’t you?” That was all you could say, almost dumbfounded by his stupidity.

“I am and the people dig it. Can’t say a little danger doesn’t get ‘em all hot and bothered.” He remarked, his shit-eating grin growing even wider as he tilted his head and leaned towards you a bit more. Your face just went completely flat. Void of all emotion except annoyance and the painstaking wish he had said anything but that.

“I love it when people lie through their teeth to my face.” You said so flat and lifeless a robot might as well have said it.

Kid's eyebrows scrunched up a tiny bit, not at all pleased he didn’t get the reaction out of you he wanted. He wasn’t flirting with you, or at least that's what he thought when he said it. In all honesty, Kid has the same flirting skills as goldfish. Just making bubbles and floating by expecting someone to get drawn in by how shiny his scales were. So when he said that he actually just wanted to see you embarrassed like you had made him feel. Little to say it was the first time he felt genuinely peeved by you.

“I ain’t lyin'. I’m a big-time pirate that’s big in more places than one. What more could someone want?” He clamored out, trying to lean into his more cocky attitude. Again his innuendo is less about stroking his ego and more about getting a reaction out of you. He didn’t need confirmation that his dick was big. But he wanted you to blush because he told you.

Your eyes twitched a bit when he said that. Not knowing exactly how to interpret why he was bragging to you and most definitely not taking it as flirting at all.

As if a cocky asshole like him would ever flirt with me, he just wants me to feel small and worthless doesn’t he?

Giving him a blank dead stare you spoke, “What more could a person want? Well…I don’t know, maybe literally anyone but you.”

Kid would never in a million fucking years admit it but that shit stung. He usually never lets people's opinions cloud his view of himself. They were nobody to him so why care?

Then why the fuck am I taking what she said seriously? He mulled over this thought for a moment feeling almost ashamed that he let anything you say get through his impenetrable skin.

But he beat himself out of that thought, scowling harder than ever before and clenching his one good hand until his knuckles turned white.

You noticed this despite the multiple barstools that took up the space between the two of you. Face once dead of emotion now alight in a wave of slight nervousness and even a bit of regret.

Why the fuck did I say that? To a murderer of all people? Do I want to get killed that badly?

Kid felt his stump throb in pain once again like a hammer cast in flames slamming into every single nerve. He grits his teeth hoping you didn’t notice before responding. “Like your opinion of me matters. Quit acting like you know me. You’re nothing compared to what I am.”

You watched him carefully, eyeing the way his muscles uncomfortably tensed underneath his fur coat. The slight sheen of sweat on his brow became a bit more noticeable in the low light. It made a strange feeling of guilt swirl deep in your core seeing him like that. He was a total douchebag but it felt wrong kicking him when he was down.

“I don’t know you but I’ve met people like you. More than I’d like to admit.” Your tone was soft as you spoke, not looking him in the eye as you held on to the newspaper in an almost delicate way. “I’m just saying I don’t trust you. And…if I’m right then I have every reason to be cautious. Reading this newspaper gives you a ‘I’ll kill everyone’ air.”

Kid watched you as you spoke. His amber eyes were sharp and clear as he noticed the change in tone. It didn’t bother him but in his opinion, it sounded like the most truthful thing you’ve said so far. “I don’t just kill everybody. I have some restraint ya know.”

“Well according to this newspaper, you kill pretty much anyone all the time. To the point that it's what you are known for. I mean, look at this headline, it says slaughtering right there.” You pointed to the headline once more, laying the newspaper flat on the bar before picking up your glass. The sight of rotting flesh in the pictures forcing your heart to lurch each time you even glance at it.

“Well, all of the people I kill fucking deserve it. Do you think I hand out mercy out of sympathy for worthless people? The motherfuckers get in my way so they deserve to be in the ground.”

Kid’s voice was harsh with conviction as he spoke. As if he's said this same thing nearly a thousand times. You took another quick sip of your daiquiri. Licking the sugar off your lips with a quick swipe before glancing back over at him.

“So…are you going to do that here? On this island? String me up by my belly and let my intestines slip out?” You asked him quietly, eyes boring into him with an intensity he hadn’t seen from you before. It felt raw and almost threatening. Like you were daring him to try because you knew he would lose.

He wanted to be annoyed and he wanted to punch you right in the jaw. Snap you out of whatever diluted sense of power you seemed to be feeling. But his stump was still soaring with pain. He was managing it sure but he knew if he started moving around too much he’d topple over. So instead he resorted to using his words, which was his least favorite thing to do. “Well…I’m thinking about it but…I’m not in the mood. It's too worthless to kill someone so weak. I have bigger fish to fry.”

Your eyes narrowed, reading into him for even a sliver of deception. You didn’t know what kind of man he was. Supposing he was a liar and cheat like most of the men who traveled the sea were. So you prodded him deeper, trying to find the root of his honesty. “Could your lack of motivation to kill me…have anything to do with those injuries of yours?”

You glanced at his stump and bandages running across his chest. The scabbed-over and healing scars on his face were still red and puffy from their recent affliction. Kid's eyes widened and he leaned back away from you ever so slightly. Hating the fact that you dare mention his injuries. Hating the fact that you thought they were making him weak. That they were holding him back.

That rage he had been holding in ever since it happened started to bubble up. The same rage that he felt for his crew members when they pitied him. The same rage he felt for himself. He had to look away, trying to regain himself. Control his overwhelming urges to not only split your face open but break every piece of furniture within ten feet of him.

He finally looked back at you, ready to scream his head off, “Don’t you dare-”, but he paused.

It was surprising to see your face like that.

It stopped him dead in his tracks, his once boiling rage now a soft simmer within only a second.

Kid didn’t know how to describe it. It was like you weren’t looking at him for who he was. For the scars he held. Those eyes of yours were looking at him for what he is. Deep somber orbs filled with nothing but…empathy?

No…that’s not the right word. It doesn’t feel…like it’s meant to be helpful or caring. Not an ounce of pity.

Familiarity. She knows how I feel.

Kid wasn’t good at reading people's emotions. He could barely understand his own emotions most of the time. So it was strange how he met you in the middle with just a glance.

Even though it didn’t last more than a few seconds.

“I have another pitcher of beer, a tall glass of rum, and that chicken you ordered.” Came the voice of the waiter. Walking through the swinging door with a large tray in hand carrying all the contents she mentioned.

Your face contorted to embarrassment as you watched the waiter stride up towards Kid. He had to force himself to look away from you, wanting to continue the conversation with you despite himself.

What the fuck has gotten into me?

Kid nearly rolled his eyes at himself. Feeling a pang of heat cross his cheeks he let out a grumbling cough to mask it. The waiter placed the tray carefully in front of Kid at the bar.

“Sorry for the wait but does everything look good?” She asked, sliding her body behind the bar and eyeing both Kid and you. Her eyes were bouncing between the two of you a bit, clearly wondering the origins of the tension floating in the air.

Oh god. She even knows I was researching him. You thought to yourself. Feeling like you’d been caught in the act of doing something reckless and stupid.

Kid stared down at the tray, his jaw tight as he let out a deep breath of air he’d been holding in. “It’s fine.” He grumbled, again that ache in his stump making his eye twitch.

Sliding his weight down onto the floor he stood up. His back cracked a bit as he rolled his shoulders trying to subside the ache. You watched him silently. Gliding your eyes gently across his wide shoulders. How the strong muscles there tensed and rolled as he moved. His smooth pale mounds of warm skin with bandages on every other inch lingering in your mind. His height was just as demeaning as you remember it though you still were a good ten feet away.

Always close enough to talk but not close enough to be considered next to him.

His hand tugged his coat around his shoulders a bit more, before he haphazardly tried to pick up the tray. His thick and lacquer-covered fingertips tried to dig under the tray without spilling anything. His one-handed skills at doing pretty much anything got in the way of even the simplest tasks of his life.

“You sure…you don’t need a little help?” The waiter softly asked. Watching Kid as she cleaned off the countertops with a rag.

“Say that again and don’t expect to be going home tonight with a tongue.” Kid spat back, his voice dripping with venom.

The waiter again nearly clammed up but backed off almost immediately. She was used to dealing with pirates but…this man was on a whole other level. Staying quiet and walking over towards your side of the bar instead.

She glanced at you but you didn’t pay much attention. Instead, you were trying to slyly watch as Kid finally wound his large hand underneath the tray. Holding it up easily on his palm at shoulder level before starting to walk away. Disappearing through a doorway without even a second glance towards you.

You let out a small displeased huff of air. At least expecting a glance or chance to continue that conversation. You felt like you were getting somewhere with that. Getting to know him a bit better. It was interesting beyond belief and if someone asked you if you’d rather stay at home in safety or talk to a scary pirate. Well…you would choose a scary pirate every time.

It felt nostalgic and it made your boring life more lively. That is until the waiter got in the way.

“You okay hun? He didn’t threaten you right?” She asked softly, giving you a sympathetic smile as she continued to wipe the bar.

You gave her a little quirk of a smile purely just for show. Not willing to give her a hard time for breaking up your conversation with that man. “Yeah, I’m fine. He did nothing wrong.”

“Well that I don’t believe. Seems to me like he's nothing but a walking pile of wrong.”

You stayed silent at first. Fiddling with your glass a tiny bit before finally picking it up to your lips and finishing the last of it off. Gulping it down and feeling the smooth taste of it run down to swirl in your gut.

“Well sometimes…a whole lotta wrong is just right.”

__________

No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t force yourself to stand up and walk into the back room of the bar. To go face that redhead again and his masked friend.

His name is not redhead, it's Kid. Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid. That thought dawned upon you as you thought over your conversation with him. You knew his name but hadn’t spoken it out loud even once. Even now his name stays within the confines of your mind. You had learned it while reading the newspaper along with the aforementioned Massacre Soldier, that blondie that’s with him.

Mulling over the idea of going and talking to them you tried to hype yourself up multiple times to gain the courage.

Come up with a catchy one-liner that would make you just a bit more likable. Maybe say nothing and sit down next to one of them like you own the place.

Assert dominance. Yeah….no.

You had no reason that wasn’t deathly embarrassing when explaining WHY you wanted to sit with them.

I’m just…bored, which would lead them to joke about my small, stupid, and uninteresting life. Maybe even lead Kid into bragging about how ‘important’ and ‘amazing’ he is compared to me.

Even thinking about that made your face sour. Rolling your eyes at nothing like you had just heard the worst joke imaginable.

I could…tell them that I have this strong gut feeling and it's dragging me towards them like a fish on a hook, which would lead to them being confused, taking it as flirting or calling me…ugh desperate.

That word crawled on your skin and sunk into your flesh. Like a tick taking root so one way or another you’d end up with Lyme disease or even worse, a bruised self-image.

You weren’t about to let that happen but this longing in your gut was almost incurable.

You even tried to calm down and look at your situation in a simpler light.

It’s just two men. Two pirates. You’ve dealt with pirates. You know how they work. You told yourself, hands feeling clammy as they gripped the edge of the bar. I already talked to one of them and it went…okay. Or maybe I’m just lying to myself and it went horribly.

You slouched in your chair and frowned. Nearly slamming your head down on the bar but you held back. Remembering you were indeed, still in public and if you wanted to wallow in your self-loathing you needed to go home for that.

I don’t need more people thinking I’m crazy.

You eventually stood up, walking to the point where you were just at the precipice of the doorway before panic struck you and you turned around just to walk straight out of the bar.

Red as a tomato and filled with shame you retreated into the night.

Did I even tell him my name?

You chewed your lips, the pleasant sounds of raindrops hitting the hood of your jacket and filling up your ears. It was a dark walk home. One that felt unmotivated to return home. You’d rather be out here, at night. The barren surroundings, whirring trees in the wind, and the rain pleasant yet cold. So you started meandering, walking as slow as you could despite the late hours.

Now and then the moon would peek through the clouds as if to say hello. A far-off lantern leaving a cool milky glow on your surroundings before being swallowed up by darkness once again.

Thank god my jacket is waterproof. You thought, watching the raindrops slip off the edge of your hood and in front of your face. It wasn’t a downpour just yet but it was not the best walking weather in most people's minds.

Yet even so you started making a detour.

What the fuck am I even doing?

At some point, while walking along the slightly muddy but managing trail to your home you made a hard 90-degree turn. Walking away from the direction of the little cabin your father had built when you were born, deep on the west side of the island.

It took about a half hour to walk through those woods to your house. Strong iron lanterns hung up on a few trees so you didn't get lost in the night. The animals are far too afraid to even step foot near your trail ever since your father claimed this portion of land.

So you were safe thankfully but what you weren’t safe from was yourself.

The trail you turned off onto led straight to the ocean. It was a bit muddier and more overgrown with thick roots and ferns but you have walked on this trial nearly half of your life. You knew it better than anyone because you were the one who made it.

Now and then you could hear the low rumble of lightning in the distance. Not too close but not entirely far off. The evergreens, birch and a few sparing oaks protecting you from the onslaught of the wind. As the wind cascaded through their branches it sounded like the raw howl of banshee. It creeped you out a bit but it was something you’ve heard before. This forest home even in the looming hours of the night.

Eventually, you breached the forest and reached the shoreline. The rain had died down a little, just a light pitter-patter against your jacket. The sand was wet but solid as you stepped down onto it. Your feet sunk in just a bit held against your weight regardless.

Looking out you noticed the ocean was in havoc. Waves nearly half your height would roll in and crash down like a bomb along the shore. The ocean tugged the water back in a greedy fashion as if it wanted to consume the land. Tall white-tipped waves stretching far out into the bay. The scent of salt, seaweed, and something oh-so comforting gliding in the space between you and the water.

Gosh if it's this bad here, I wonder what it’s like out on the open sea right now.

You looked down the shoreline, spotting the docks more towards the middle of the bay off to your left. There lay a few fishing ships, all bobbing up and down like pelicans in the water. But of course those weren’t the boats your eyes stayed glued to.

The contrast between those boats and the absolute behemoth that was the Kid Pirates ship was amazing. It was a good distance away, much bigger looking than it had originally been when you first spotted it. Squinting your eyes you could still make out a few shadows of people walking along its deck.

Your memory started floating into the forefront of your mind. Days on a deck like that. Nights spent harboring the seas as you tossed and turned in your bed. It felt like ages ago. That part of your life was now foreign to you the second the incident happened.

I wonder what he would’ve wanted for me.

Grief sunk deep into the root of your being. Covering the very base of who you are in a thick, oily, and dark substance. One that no matter how many times you tried to wash it off, it just wouldn’t go away.

“Goddamn it,” You muttered, trying to will yourself out of the feelings you held. You looked over at the sea once again, eyes trailing off towards your right. A long line of huge boulders stretched out into the waters. Built to elongate the bay and protect the land from bigger waves.

Without a thought, you walked towards it. The jetty calling your name as it has done a million times.

Climbing up onto the slick boulders you made sure to stay towards the shoreline side. The other side of the boulders, facing towards the open ocean, getting berated with large waves. You could barely hear yourself think with how loud it was. The light spritz of water landed on you periodically as you slowly and carefully traversed the boulders. Algae, kelp, starfish, and mussels littered around you. Wanting to trip you up whenever they could.

This is stupid, I can’t see shit. You thought, using your hands to steady yourself on any taller outcroppings of rock as your feet trembled underneath you. It wasn’t out of fear though, it was excitement. Excitement to do something dangerous. Excitement to try something so stupid.

Why am I like this? It’s cold and wet and I could fall into the ocean, get thrashed, and drown.

But you knew why you were like this. You knew exactly why and yet you still didn’t understand yourself. Feet moving without a thought. Your brain so focused on feeling something more than yourself that you don't care to stop.

At first, you didn’t even notice them. The pair of eyes watching you from a distance. Red-painted lips frowned in confusion as they eyed the familiar image of a girl seemingly trying to get herself killed.

In the cacophony of the waves and how they thrashed you heard another noise. A low deep whine of something in the distance. Your head perked up, blinking as if you had heard a ghost. As if the wind and waves were trying to talk to you. Thinking it was nothing you continued along until a second later you heard it again.

You looked out onto the sea towards your left, swallowing hard as you stared at the rocking waves just a few feet below you. You pressed your back up against a flat boulder at your side. Gripping onto it to keep your balance you finally glanced back at the shore.

What the-

An image of a man, a puffball-shaped man to be exact, standing at the edge of the shore right next to the jetty. You couldn’t make out his features but there was no denying who it was. His one intact arm waving and pointing toward something in your vicinity.

What the fuck?

The second you finished this thought something hit you.

Something dangerously cold and heavy enveloping you. Starting from the top of your head down to your toes. It burned your eyes as the cold sunk deep into your marrow.

Scraping your hands against the rock as you tried to stay upright, though the second it broke skin you were forced to let go. Your knees caving in under the insurmountable weight thrashed upon you.

One second you were standing and in the next you were getting sucked into the dark and desolate ocean below.

A/N: SHIT IS GETTING REAL YA’LL. BAD THINGS ARE HAPPENING. I wrote this with my eyes comically wide the whole time. Sorry to leave ya’ll on like a cliffhanger but it makes for good story telling so have fun suffering. Quirky reminder but Kid can’t swim. So like….yeah shes fucked. I mean she did it to herself but still. RIP Y/N 🙏 or a least RIP until the next chapter.

[ase-trollplays]

The Time For Reconciliation

Corali drove through the unfamiliar forest on her bright red ATV, her thoughts frantically bouncing around like bumper cars in her head and she tried to formulate exactly what her next move was going to be. It'd been more than two months since she and Thiomi last spoke, and she was still going strong with her sobriety as spite for her former friend strengthened her resolve to stay alcohol free.

She was now three months sober and feeling better than ever physically, but mentally and emotionally there were a lot of unresolved issues that desperately needed to be aired out. She'd never been to Thiomi's hive before and had to fight her kismesis (almost literally) to make him give her the coordinates. However, he didn't elaborate any further than that, so when the coordinates brought her to an empty clearing beneath a small cliff, a rush of anger came over her.

"God damn sonuva bitch. There ain't nothin' here!" Corali fumed and kicked her bike in frustration. She should have known he wouldn't give her the actual coordinates. "I'ma give that jackass a piece a my mind an' a boot so far up his ass he'll be tastin'--"

"Corali??"

The rust woman whirled around to see none other than Thiomi herself atop her enormous mouse lusus. She looked at her with wide eyes as she climbed down, though she didn't make any moves to approach her. Corali sighed and ran a hand through her hair before stuffing both hands into her pockets.

"I'm ready ta talk now."

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

"I'm glad to hear you're s-still s-sober," Thiomi said with a forced smile as she took a sip of her tea. Corali sat across from her at the table and drank from a glass of water since Thiomi didn't keep soda or coffee on hand, and she didn't feel like having milk. "I was worried."

"Yeh, well, y'ain't the sole source a my resolve ta stay clean. I can handle myself. If anythin', I did even better after ya went an' made it all about you," Corali spat. Thiomi visibly sink into her chair a little, and Corali looked away from her as though not being able to see that she upset her would rid of her of sudden pang of guilt at upsetting her.

The two sat in uncomfortable silence as they sipped their respective drinks and tried to ignore the tension. After two minutes, Corali couldn't stand it anymore and opened her mouth to say something, but Thiomi managed to beat her to the punch and break the silence first.

"Has Darius--"

"No. Kiddo still ain't talkin' ta me," she interrupted. Thiomi nodded with a disappointed "Mm," and the silence resumed. This time it only took thirty seconds before Corali started going insane from the discomfort of neither of them talking or even looking at each other. She downed the rest of her water and stood up to refill her glass.

"Ya got a nice l'il hive. 'S real cozy. Buildin' it underground was a smart idea; y'ain't gotta worry about undead or folks breakin' in if they don't know where it is. Even if they find it, they'd get lost in the tunnels."

"Thank you. The tunnels are all Mom's doing, really. S-she likes digging and burrowing."

"Heh, so's my pa, but he don't got nothin' this extensive. Least, I don't think he does."

With her water replenished, Corali took her seat across from Thiomi, and silence resumed once more. This was getting ridiculous now. Of course, Corali knew why this kept happening. The elephant in the room had been obvious from the moment they saw each other outside.

Unacceptable. If Thiomi was going to stubbornly ignore it, then Corali decided she was going to be the one to finally address it because these constant silences were bordering on painful. She slammed a metal hand on the table, startling both Thiomi and her lusus (Who'd been sleeping until now).

"Okay, enough a this shit. We gotta talk about two months ago cuz I'm not about ta sit here in silence fer another gotdang minute," she declared and looked Thiomi directly in the eyes. Thiomi glanced downward and, with a sigh, looked back at her guest with forlorn eyes.

"... Yeah, I guess we s-should," she said and took a deep inhale. "I'm s-sorry. I s-should have taken a s-step back when I realized my feelings for Mareth were resurfacing," Thiomi apologized, though Corali's gaze remained hard. "Instead, I treated you like her replacement and used your s-struggle to make myself feel better about how things ended with her, and that was... it was an awful thing to do to a friend."

Thiomi pauses to sniffle and wipe away translucent green tears forming on her eyes. Corali felt a little bad seeing her start to cry, but still being hurt herself, she found her sympathy lacking.

"Yeh, that was a real rotten thing ya did. D'ya have the slightest idea how shitty that feels? I ain't a win ta put under yer belt or a replacement fer a failed quadrant. I was damn near fightin' fer my fuckin' life. This sober shit's one a the hardest things I ever done, an' I was weak an' strugglin' ta keep goin', an' y'all fuckin' took advantage a me. Ya say it didn't start that way, but when ya knew that's where it was goin', ya shoulda just told me! Ya shoulda told me an' fucked off until ya got yer shit back tagether!"

By the time Corali was done venting, Thiomi was reduced to silent tears and crying. She choked out a pitiful "I'm sorry," and part of her took a vindictive joy in seeing how upset she was. However, the pleasure was quick to fade, and she groaned and gritted her teeth as the next words came out of her mouth.

"But I fergive ya."

Thiomi looked at her in complete disbelief as tears continued to fall. She struggled to find words to voice her shock for several moments before finally managing to utter a single "W... what?"

"What y'all did was prolly one a the shittiest things anyone's ever done ta me in my life, but... I fergive ya. I'd be a hypocrite not ta. I mean, I hauled off an' assaulted my son over a bottle a beer, an' I been desperate fer him ta fergive me. How am I s'posed ta expect him ta fergive a big mistake when I won't even fergive a big mistake?"

Thiomi wiped away more tears threatening to fall and took a deep breath as she looked at Corali with relief mixed in with her sadness and regret. She smiled at her, and Corali gave her a small smile in return.

"Right, so now it's done. No more stewin' over that shit. Ya said yer sorry, an' I fergave ya. Problem solved, arright?" Corali stated and held out her hand. Thiomi sniffled as she slowly and gingerly reached across the table to take her hand. Corali grabbed her hand tightly and gave it a firm, hard shake. "Good."

The silence that followed was much less agonizing this time around and didn't last nearly as long as they drank their drinks and resumed chatting like old friends. After about an hour of talking and catching up, Corali allowed the conversation to drop off. The tension crept back again as she considered her next words.

"I wasn't just stoppin' by ta get the bullshit squared away," she stated with an uncharacteristic wavering in her voice. Thiomi stared at her in confusion, then worry. Corali ran a hand through her hair and bit her lip. She couldn't bring herself to look Thiomi in the face and turned her head to the side to stare at the wall. Although she couldn't see her, she could feel Thiomi's eyes on her staring in apprehension.

"I met someone recently while I was huntin'. She gave me a place ta lick my wounds an' get a l'il settled, an' we got ta talkin'. I was ventin' ta her an she, ah... she made me realize somethin'. Somethin' kinda important," Corali said as her face flushed the lightest shade of red. She prided herself on being direct and never beating around the bush when she had something to say, but now her boldness was failing her. Just do it! Treat it like a bandaid and rip it off! she told herself and took the deepest breath she could before looking back at Thiomi.

"I-I'm pale fer ya," she finally managed to spit out. Thiomi gaped at her with a hand modestly covering her mouth, and Corali immediately regret confessing to her. The silence was absolutely deafening, and it was making her anxiety flare up. She could feel herself becoming angry at the lack of a response after she put herself out there and let herself be vulnerable. She clenched one of her fists for a few seconds before unclenching it and swallowing her anxiety.

"Well? Ya gonna say somethin'?"

More silence. It was getting harder to contain her anxiety; she could practically feel the yellows of her eyes changing. Thankfully, before she had a chance to say "Fuck it" and storm out in shame, Thiomi finally spoke.

"I'm s-sorry, I just... I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm flattered, really," she started, and Corali's heart sank like a lead balloon. She knew a rejection when she heard one. It was probably for the best. Hell, she fully expected to be shot down, but that didn't take the sting off at all. She put up a hand to silence any further speech and stood up.

"Y'ain't gotta say nothin' else. I just needed ta get it out there cuz not sayin' nothin' was drivin' me nuts."

"Corali, wait--"

She turned and started walking back toward the hive's entrance, and she could hear the legs of Thiomi's chair drag across the ground as she stood up and followed her.

"Please, just let me--"

"Nah, nah, it's fine. I get it. Ya don't feel the same. 'S alright, no big deal."

"But I do feel the s-same!"

Now it was Corali's turn to stare wide-eyed as she stopped within inches of exiting the doorway and turned around to face her. Thiomi stared back at her with a frown on her lips, and they stayed locked in eye contact before Corali furrowed her brow and crossed her arms incredulously.

"Bullshit," Corali said as Thiomi fussed with her hair and bit her lip anxiously while averting her gaze. "Yer gon' hafta fergive me fer bein' more'n a l'il skeptical considerin' what happened a couple perigees back an' why."

"I know. Believe me, I know," she answered with a pained sigh. She looked up at Corali and prepared to crumple under a judgmental stare, but there wasn't one to be found. She was, in fact, glaring at her, but there was very little malice behind it. If anything, it was closer to a look of concern than anger.

"You're a lot like Mareth, maybe too much like her. I don't have any doubts that I'm pale for you. ... But I'm also s-still in mourning, and I don't know for s-sure if my feelings are genuine or because I'm s-still grieving. I want to give us a try, but not if it's for the wrong reason," Thiomi explained solemnly. Corali's expression eased, and she nodded sadly.

"Ya mentioned yer seein' a therapist now, right? Yer gonna get better eventually, an' I still got a good number a sweeps left in me, so why don't we just wait?" Corali suggested with a shrug and the smallest hint of a smile. Thiomi's frown not only persisted, but deepened as well.

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Yer not askin'. I'm offerin'."

"I don't know how long it'll take for me to move on."

"I ain't in no rush."

"What if you meet someone else you'd rather be diamonds with?"

"What if I don't?"

"Corali, please. I'm not someone worth waiting for. I've already hurt you before."

"An' I fergave ya, so it ain't a issue anymore. I'll be the one ta decide if waitin' ain't worth it, so quit makin' excuses. If it don't work out, then oh well. Least we tried."

"But..." Thiomi struggled to find the words to say to convince Corali to change her mind. However, she couldn't come up with anything she was sure the rust blood wouldn't immediately find some sort of counter to. "I don't deserve you. ... But I can't really stop you, can I?"

Corali placed a hand on Thiomi's head, earning a surprised squeak from her, and gave her hair a gentle ruffle. "Nope, ya can't. We both know what a stubborn shithead I am. Just ask yer matesprit."

Thiomi sighed and smiled at that, and Corali retracted her hand.

"S-so how long do you plan on waiting?" Thiomi asked, and Corali placed her hand on her chin in a thinking pose

"I'm willin' ta wait fer as long as it takes, but since ya wanna put a time limit on it, how about 'til my suspension from my job is up in a l'il under half a sweep. That should be plenty a time fer that therapist a yers ta getcha sorted," she said. Of course, she fully intended to keep waiting beyond that deadline if need be assuming nothing happened to change her feelings. "Whaddya say, we got a deal?"

Corali once again held her hand out to her, and Thiomi smiled and took hold much more confidently than she did previously.

"It's a deal."

[fangirl--writes]

BookKeeper. Jeremiah Valeska x Reader 🃏

 A/N: Here is the first of the many WIP’S that have been left to die in my folders. A small drabble based around 4x21 in all it’s incomplete glory.

Enjoy!

“Detective…” Jeremiah’s voice floated above the rain.  

The words fell from his mouth almost absent minded as the hand holding the detonator slid back out from his coat pocket. Jeremiah’s heel clicked as he turned to face the group of officers again.

The air around the precinct was tense as half the force poured out the doors armed to the teeth to face the twin to one of Gotham’s most destructive and terrifying forces. The tension was overwhelming as you stepped out to watch from the safety of the precinct. They always said bad things come in pairs.

Wordlessly you peeked a look from the crevice between the wall of officers. Your breath caught in your throat as your captain snarled.

“Listen ya’ sick freak”

Harvey manned the front well but you knew on the inside he and all the other officers had to be a wreck. Just the day before the G.C.P.D. had been invaded by Jerome’s old followers for a wake party.  

You were still reeling.

Jim Gordon was missing-

That monster declared him dead, and the city was on the brink of the abyss.

A soft sigh left Jeremiah’s lips. “Here I was thinking you would jump at the chance to buy the city more time.”  He signaled his followers with a raise of his hand in sync they turned to take their leave.

There was a shift as the wall of armed forces jostled. You tensed pushing your back against the cold concrete of the wall preparing for the worst.

“Hold It.”

Your commanding officer’s voice raised to quell the movement at his sides as he raised a fist. The cult followers at Jeremiah’s back made no move to intervene as he stood statuesque against the brewing war in front of him.

“I propose a trade.”

Harvey staggered on the stairs dumbfounded; you could see his form hesitate as his stood up straight. “Wait a damn minute’-

Jeremiah cut him off as he raised his free hand. You strained to see as your opening closed in a burst of movement.

“One of yours for another hour to evacuate Gotham.”

His next breath made your heart drop to the bowels of your body-

“Let’s say… the Book Keeper.”

You.

Your heart beat wildly in your ears flooding your mind in a blanket of cold panic. Harvey’s rejection did little to calm you as the Valeska tsk’d at his response.  

You clawed at the wall trying to gain some semblance of calm as the figures at the front of the pack jostled around in hushed whispers. Their voices muddled. Your breath was shallow as you tried to disappear in the into the bricks.

Why you?

You’d never even seen the man before 10 minutes ago. Sure, you knew of him. Who didn’t by now, but you’d never spoke to the guy?

The devil’s voice wormed its way to your ears. “I’m waiting.”

You felt fear as you swallowed hard fighting the urge to scream. The bodies of your co-workers parted as a familiar face met your panic-stricken eyes.

“Alverez…” your voice caught in your throat as he approached you.

“It’s okay Y/N.”

His hand brushed against your arm as he gently pulled you from the spot on the wall. Yesterday he had guarded you during the siege; you’d barricaded yourself in your workspace while the chaos raged outside. His dark eyes were tender as he tried to soothe you, holding your arm gently as he led you down the steps. The faces of your co-workers were sullen, down cast. They refused to meet your eyes as you desperately looked for some scrap of kindness.

Someone had to stop this. Shoot him. Something.

“Captain-” You started to plead with him, beg to change his mind. The salt and pepper detective met your face with a short shake of his head. His eyes conflicted as he stopped Alverez at the last step taking your arm. “We’ll get you out of this Y/N. We’ll evac the city and come straight to ya’.” His teeth grit as pulled you in close. “And beat this sonofa’ bitch to a pulp.”  

He let you go as you turned to face Jermiah. His steel eyes watching you from behind dark shades hand outstretched. You forced yourself to stand tall against the light rain raising your chin to him as you tried to quell the jelly settling in your legs.  

The city of Gotham rested on your next move.

Silently you worked your legs forward one step at a time until you were mere inches from him now. He was cold, frigid in a human form.

“There we are.” His mouth twitched with the slightest satisfaction at your compliance.

“Remember now. Six hours or the horrors that befall the citizens left behind will fall on your heads

Good day detective.”

Jeremiah squeezed your arm as he turned again. It was a tight grip enough to seal you to him. You squirmed trying to break his grasp as Harvey’s frantic voice called after you.

“Seven hours-

You promised.” You interjected, voice cracking as you dug your heels into the pavement pulling your captor to an abrupt halt.

The shades dropped down his nose as glass eyes met your frantic state. He watched you with silent reserve studying your face, dark brows arched at your sudden outburst.

“My time is valuable, dearest.” His voice was tender as he let out a frustrated exhale. It oozed an aura of calm as he dragged you in close; his words dripped heavy in your ear. “Since I was forced to waste my time, my stance has since been retracted.”

He ripped you from your spot on the street.

You didn’t have time to react as he glanced back over his shoulder.

“Incase my instructions weren’t clear...”

You flinched as a great blast shook the row; your eyes widened as your Jeremiah’s glasses lit up, glistening with the reflection of the grey skies that glowed red with the flames and glass debris that fell to the waiting streets.  Your stomach dropped as the world slowed. People stood frozen as the grand structure cracked and toppled in a matter of seconds.

The clock tower was a ball of billowing smoke in ash, shattered.

Your heart wrenched at the distant wailing screams. A silent cry left your lips; a pale hand blocked your chest, reeling you back in.

“Six Hours.”

Taglist:

@kpopgirlbtssvt​​

@valeskaduh​​

@theunquenchablethirst​​

@spider-lonesome​

@maria-akira​​

[riverisnotsafe]

Mine.

PAIRING: F!Servant!Reader x Naoya Zenin

WARNINGS: NAOYA ZENIN. Naoya smut. NSFW, Minors DNI. | If you're into any of these: possessive Naoya, breeding kink (?), mentions of overstimulation, jealous Naoya.

A/N: You can call me Noct or River. I’m still fairly new to how tumblr works and how writers and bloggers (?) write their imagines/fics so I do apologize in advance if my writing is not to your liking. I will also post on AO3 under sunflowerpsycho. I'm still trying to improve^^ This was self-indulgent and not edited so pretty all over the place and might be unclear in some parts, sorry bout that.

The reader lowkey a pick me but depends on how you view her, either she's a pick me or she just acts the way she acts to accustom and stroke the lil bitches ego.

“A-ah! Naoya-sama!” you moan his name as he shoots his load deep in you. A few moments of bliss and you were ready to clean yourself. Naoya never liked staying in bed long after sex. He finds it disgusting. All the fluids of sweat, semen and love juices mixed together made his skin crawl. “Oi woman, where are you going?” You haven’t even gotten up but Naoya had you strongly wrapped in his embrace. His cock still deep within you, as if acting as a plug. “I’m gonna wash myself..? You don’t like being dirty like this...usually?” the last bit came out as a question when Naoya buried his head deep into the crevice of your neck. “Ah, I’ll let it pass today. Just stay here. My cum is gonna leak out if you move.” he tried to shove himself deeper, earning an unexpected moan from you. “L-leak out???” Does Naoya have a breeding kink? Is he trying to keep his cum in you???? “N-naoya-sama...are you trying to breed me?” at the mention of breed, you could feel his dick twitch in your core. “Shut up woman.” Ah...so he is and he’s embarrassed to admit. “I feel honoured if that’s what you’re trying to do...” another twitch.

Under that tough misogynistic act, this man is just a boy who thrives on praise, he probably was deprived of any in his childhood, hence the superiority complex. But with you, he’s quite honest. The body doesn’t lie. You were just another servant. He probably paid and slept with many so you never thought of it as anything special. Besides, after all of this dirty work, both of you end up going your separate ways. A servant and the young master. That’s all it is. That is until one of the maids tried stealing from the family, unfortunately from Naoya and he didn’t take it too lightly. A woman and a thief, absolutely the worst. Ever since that, he appointed you as his personal maid, to ensure that only one person will serve him. Only one will enter and exit his quarters. Only one will serve his meals. Only one will tend to him. Only one will follow him around the house. Only one will keep him company when needed. Why did he choose you? Honestly you had no idea. Out of all the servants, clearly you were the least appealing, especially for a man of Naoya’s caliber.

You could never rival the looks of any of the other girls. You were chubby. Your thighs a bit too thick. Your cheeks were puffy. You had no thigh gap. Curves? Well, they weren’t hour-glass curves so you were bedrock bottom ranked. And when it came to family, you were a nobody. All the other servants have been serving the Zenin clan for generations. You were just a nobody who was pulled into the servant life to pay off your parent’s debt. What luck. It took him time though, to make you tend to him sexually. He might have a big ego and any woman would sleep with him but deep down he knew it was only for money and his looks, which he prided on. The sex was always bland. He could care less about the women’s pleasures, he would ejaculate outside, toss them money and demand them to immediately leave. He found them disgusting. Weren’t you just the same?

He had a great face, an even better body and all the riches you could’ve dreamt of, so why has he not tossed you out yet. He for sure can suspect that you’re just the same as all those women, plus, you were even lower, a nobody. Yet, here he is, deep inside you. This has been..about the sixth time you and Naoya have had intercourse. The first three times was when you were just a normal servant. Coincidentally he always found you and forced you to pleasure him. The pay was good so you never complained. After becoming his personal maid, it took a few months to make you fulfil his sexual needs, which is rather strange. A man like knows nothing of consent. He’s a tyrant. What he wants, he can get and he will. So why did he take months to make you fuck him when it was so easy before becoming his personal servant. Who knows? Maybe it was his underlying insecurities asking him to be sure.

“Naoya-sama...may I turn to look at you?” he grunts. “I’ll be sure to avoid any leakage” he nods. You slowly turn your body, still impaled on him. It was a different kind of pleasure but you withheld your moans. Your face are so close. This moment is intimate, for you and him. Almost unreal. He’s gorgeous. That red tint of blush and sex afterglow just added more to his beauty. “Naoya-sama. May I speak more than usual?” “Only because you asked for permission. Proceed.” he avoided looking into your eyes. A shy one. “I appreciate my master’s kindness. Thank you for allowing me to speak. Naoya-sama...please be honest with me. Are you trying to impregnate me? Why? I’m just a lowly servant. I could never be perfect to bear your children, or be a concubine. I have no value. You are too kind. We should stop. I will remove myself now. Thank you for your time master.” You slowly push yourself off him. He grabs your arm harshly, definitely bruising it.

“You said no leakage. And how dare you speak to your master so insolently? How dare you question what holds value to me or not. You are a lowly servant. You’re a filthy no-name bitch. You live to lick my shoes and pick up money I throw on the ground. You are not going anywhere. You are staying on this bed with me in you. You have to be reminded who your master is.” Oooh, you definitely pissed him off. You winced at his words. They were normal, he always told you where your place is so it wasn’t a surprise. “You stupid woman. Now it’s out. You moved and now it’s out.” he sounds disappointed. He was whining like a child. “Naoya-sama!” he plunged into you hard. “Yes, scream my name you stupid bitch.” He went faster and faster. “Don’t cum inside...I’m not worthy master” “Shut your mouth. Worthy? No woman is worthy of me. Selfish. All they care about are themselves. Such an inferior gender thinking what they know is worthy? I decide. I decide your worth.” He changed positions. He pressed both your legs close to your chest. A mating press. He was so deep. The squelching of his previous load acting as lubricant was erotic.

“You. Your lewd body. You were always trying to seduce me. Those luscious thighs. These fat breasts. You were made for child-bearing. The look you make when I fuck you. So in awe, eyes rolling back. Ah. Ah. Sometimes you even forgot payment because you rushed to clean yourself. You were the only memorable one. The sounds you make. You’re erotic. No one else can see or hear you except me. Mine. Mine. Mine.” Naoya drilled you senseless. So desperate to hear you. Desperate to look at your expressions. Desperate to conquer you. “N-naoya-sama! Ah! Ah! Naoya-sama!” You had practically lost any sense and all you could feel was his dick fucking you mercilessly. The veins. The length. The girth. He fit like a glove. He had shaped you to be accustomed to him. “When that no-name clan came yesterday for a meeting. I saw your look. You enjoyed how they all looked at you didn’t you? You slut. You’d want them to fuck you like this right? Only I can though. You smiled and served them. Desperate bitch.” The meeting yesterday?

Your mind wandered. Oh yes, a small clan that are partners with the Zenin in business. The heirs were quite good-looking and well-mannered, how could a lady not feel flattered. You can’t remember if you specifically smiled or enjoyed their small talk. Was being polite not a simple necessity a servant should have towards guests? To ensure their master was not seen as tardy. You can’t remember their names or faces. All you remember was Naoya slipping his hand under your garments and fingering you. “You enjoyed people watching right? Especially since they were good-looking. I WAS RIGHT THERE WITH YOU. Disgusting piece of shit.” He got even rougher. You don’t know how many times you’ve orgasmed and how many times Naoya had ejaculated in you but he was still at it. He’s jealous huh.. how strange. A man that could have anything and anyone in the world was strangely possessive of a worthless woman like you. “You can’t show them those expressions. Mine. Your kindness mine. Your sounds. Mine. You’re my servant.” he sounds sad.

Despite being in subspace, you unintentionally reach out to your master and cub his face. “Naoya-sama. I love you.” Those unintentional words made the malicious man slow down his pace. “What did you say?” Is he angry? Oof, all the best dealing with another tantrum. You couldn’t feel anything. Legs sore. Your mind had wandered. The pleasure had made you dumb yet the little consciousness you have for your master remained. “I love you, Naoya.” His cock twitched. “Again” “I love you.” “Again” “I love you, Naoya-sama”. All that repeating made you come to your senses. “I don’t remember the men from yesterday. All I remember were your thick fingers in me. My expressions and mewls were for you. If this body is what you want then I will offer it all to you, my master. Ask, you are my master after all. All of me is yours.” You get up a bit, and stagger, he fucked the life outta ya. “Master, allow me to speak.” a small dumbfounded nod. You slip a hand onto his cheek and kiss him. Both of you never shared a kiss.

It was too intimate for a servant to kiss their master. Only their betrothed would be worthy but you couldn’t help it, you needed to assure this man-child, you were no one else’s. “Master, I-“ “Naoya. When we’re alone call me Naoya.” a small smile crept onto your lips. “Naoya, breed me.” His face was flushed. That’s exactly what he wanted. Through the night, he fucked you in every inch of the room. Both of your fluids and smell, absolutely drenched his quarters. He never once ejaculated outside. Every drip of his semen was in your womb, he wouldn’t even pull out, in fear it would leak. Shower? He fucked you while showering too. His animalistic senses stopped when a knock on the door came.

“Lay down with your back arched. It can’t leak.” He put on a robe and answered. A woman’s voice. “Naoya-sama. Naobito-sama is calling for you.” “Tch. Annoying old man” he slams the door shut. “Oi. Arch even more.” He came back to you. “I’m going to put this in you so you don’t spill.” He was holding, A DILDO? This man has a dildo? “N-naoya-sama, t-thats...” “Some servant I had my way with some time ago left it to fuck with me. I kept it not knowing what it was but now the shape looks like it’d plug you up good.” A servant he had his ways with huh. You were just another one right. He seemed to have noticed your train of thought. “Stupid woman. That servant is long gone. And now. You’re mine. No other stupid bitch except you. Stop thinking nonsense. Maybe I’ll remind you a bit more. That old man can wait.” He unrobed and pounced you. You definitely can’t walk for a few days.

“I’ll plug you up and we’ll go see the old man” he sounds, quite joyful. “If you move and leak, I won’t hesitate to fill you up again.” Ah. He’s definitely Naoya Zenin. “Naoya-sama” you smile. “What? You should be grateful that I’ve allowed you to speak so many times since last night.” You can’t help but giggle. A slight blush forms on Naoya’s face. “How dare you laugh at m-“ you pull him in for a kiss. He reluctantly kissed back. “Naoya-sama, I love you.” you smiled. He thrusted into you without warning. “The old man can definitely wait. You filled with my child is more important.” God knows how many times he’d come in your womb without pulling out, there’s no way you’re not pregnant. “Naoya-sama...let’s stop here...I can’t walk properly if we continue, then a different servant will have to serve you.” He was about to argue but held his tongue. “Fine.” He pulled out and slowly shoved the dildo in. Looks like he’d rather have wobbly-legged you than another servant. You can't help but smile. “Go shower and meet me back here. And clean the room after meeting with the old man. The smell...erotic but dreadful. Wash everything.” “Yes my master.” You hurriedly got clothed and rushed to the servant quarters to clean up. You were happy. What a weirdo.

[yourstarvic]

Walking into the venue, you took a deep breath, talking all your willpower not to try and cover the exposed skin. Looking around, you saw the many tables for the silent auction and many people groups together as they had their own conversation. Scanning the area, your eyes landed on Atsumu and the others, all giving you an encouraging nod and smile. Giving them a wide smile, you looked back at the crowd and spotted Haru and Rieko acting way too close. With a deep breath, you started to walk where they were with your head held hair.

“Atta girl,” Atsumu smirked as he watched you walked over to them. His smirked widen when heads were turned in your direction, especially Haru and Rieko, who did a double-take when they saw you.

“Sorry I’m late,” You smiled at them, enjoying the shocked looks on your face.

“Your dress,” Rieko eyed you, not hiding the sneer and her anger. “What happened to the dress you were supposed to wear?”

“It seems that you are wearing it,” You smiled innocently at Rieko, batting your eyelashes at her.

Haru, stepped away from Rieko, making her let out a loud whine in protest as he grabbed your hand and bring it up to his lips. It took everything in you to not cringe at his touch as he kissed your knuckles. “You look amazing,” Haru breathed out, moving his hand to pull you by the waist.

Taking a deep breath through your teeth, you tried not to falter your smile. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Haru kissed your forehead, making you tense. Luckily for you, Haru didn’t seem to notice, only caring how beautiful you looked.

Breaking away from Haru, you looked at Rieko with a smile that hides your smirk, “Are you okay? You look a bit upset?”

“Haru,” Rieko turned to look at him, talking through her gritted teeth, “I need to speak to (Y/n) alone.”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” You gave her a small pout, before smirking softly, “Haru seems to like it.”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” You gave her a small pout, before smirking softly, “Haru seems to like it.”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” You gave her a small pout, before smirking softly, “Haru seems to like it.”

“Haru likes a lot of things,” She rolled her eyes. “And honestly, that dress doesn’t look good on you. Red looks terrible on you. Why did you change your dress? We could have matched or at least let me help you. Honestly (Y/n) as your best friend-”

“You look beautiful,” A deep voice interrupted Rieko.

Thinking the man was talking to her, she instantly put on a sweet facade. Turning to look at him, she giggled as she tucked a small piece behind her hair, “Thank you so much.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sakusa glared at her, “I don’t talk to trash.”

“W-What?” Rieko gasped out. A few people around who heard him started to whisper, looking at her as they gossip about what just happened. Feel overwhelmed with embarrassment, Rieko choked out a huff as she glared at you, before walking off to Haru, “We’ll talk later.”

As she walked off with a huff, you turned to Sakusa who was furring his eyebrows together. “Are you okay?” You asked slowly, seeing Sakusa look uneasy.

Patted your arm with his hand awkwardly, Sakusa nodded his head, fueling the gossips around them, “You look…Very… Nice…”

“A-Are you flirting with me?” You asked him, looking at him questionably. Sakusa nodded as he looked down his hand with a frown. Smiling at him, you chuckled, “You can go wash your hands if you want.”

“Thank you,” Sakusa said quickly, walking away to where the restrooms were.

You shooked your head at him with a small chuckle, making your way to the bar that was on this floor. As you were walking, many people turned and smiled at you. You smiled back respectfully, not liking how you felt everyone's eyes were on you. Arriving at the bar you asked the bartender to get you a glass of champagne. The bartender was quick to fulfill your order, sliding the flute towards you. Thanking him, you turned around and took a sip of your drink, eyes darting around the room. “You know,” you heard a familiar deep voice said as they were coming up next to you, looking out on the crowd. “I never liked them.”

You hide your smile behind your glass, turning around and place the flute on the bar table, and placed your hands on the edge. Taking a deep breath as your eyes roamed the vanity of drinks behind the bar, “How come you never told me?”

“You loved them so much I didn’t want to say anything,” He stared at Haru and Rieko, his eyes narrowed at them with disgust. “Say the word and I can fire them on the spot. Have you thought about the offer?”

“I have…And…As much as I want that,” You chuckled, “there’s a plan.”

“Plan?” He muttered, “As in revenge?”

“Yeah,” You sighed, “but I have an idea when and where they should be exposed. If I do things correctly and get to approve of them it could work.”

“Approved?” He looked at you in confusion, “What are you-”

“Hey,” You heard a familiar smug voice coming to the other side of you said. “Seem’s that my tie matched yer dress.”

Rolling your eyes and chuckling at the voice, you turned to look at the blonde, seeing him lean on the bar counter, “What a coincidence.”

“I like to think it was fate,” Atsumu winked at you.

You giggled at him as he signals the bartender for a drink, smiling at you. Hearing the man who you were talking to earlier cleared his throat. With a knowing smile you turned to the man, introducing him, “(L/n)-San, this is Miya Atsumu. Atsumu, this is (L/n)-San, CEO of (L/n) Cooperation.”

“It’s nice to meet ya, sir,” Atsumu greeted the man politely. “Please call me Atsumu.”

“It is nice to meet you as well,” Your father greeted him. “How do you know (Y/n)?”

“We actually just met,” You smiled at him.

“But you knew his name?” He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t hear him introduced himself.”

“I-I just recognize him from his volleyball matches?” You said hesitantly.

“I see…” (L/n) nodded his head. “Well, please enjoy the party. Downstairs is where the ballroom is and where dinner would be served.”

You and Atsumu thanked him as he walked off, making you release the breath you were holding. Atsumu started to snicker at you, grabbing his drink as he took a few sips. “What’s so funny?” You pouted at him, turning your body to face him.

“I-I just recognize him f-from his-” Atsumu mocked you with a smirk.

Hitting his arm playfully with an offended smile, you rolled your eyes, “Shut it.”

“Why were ya so nervous?” Atsumu chuckled, bring his cup up to take a sip. “He’s just some random dude. Who cares?”

“Well, that dude,” You grabbed your drink, giving him a stern look, “is my fa-Haru’s boss. And he’s the one hosting this gala.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Atsumu waved off, making you roll your eyes. Moving his body towards the crowd, he offered his arm to you, “What do ya say? Want to bid on some stuff and hope for the best?”

“Well...The money will go to charity,” You smiled, linking your arm through his. “So let’s bid a lot.”

The two of you walked around, occasionally stopping at a few to write down a bid. As the two of you walked around, Atsumu leaned his head down and whispered in your ear, “He’s been starin’.”

“Oh?” You felt goosebumps appeared as his breath tickled your ear.

“And not just him,” Atsumu smirked, standing back up. “Ya got all these scums lookin’ at ya doll. ‘M startin’ to get dirty looks just haven’ ya next to me.”

“Should I let go of you?” You hummed, looking at him.

“Nah,” Atsumu winked, “love the attention too much.”

Giggling at him, you rolled your eyes and looked in the corner of your eye where Haru was. Seeing how Haru was glaring daggers at Atsumu, who purposely looked at him with a smug innocent smile. You chuckled when you noticed Rieko desperately trying to gain Haru’s attention, giving you a look of hatred and annoyance. “You really are terrible,” You smiled at Atsumu with amusements.

After a few moments, Atsumu unhooked his arms with your, tilting his head towards the bar, “Imma go get another drink, want me to get you something?”

Handing him his glass, you gave him a thankful smile, “A scotch, please.”

“On it doll,” Atsumu winked, leaving you to yourself as he went to the bar. Right as Atsumu left, you were instantly surrounded. You would smile politely at them and had a small conversation with each of them before walking off.

As you were walking and having a small conversation, a pair of eyes were glaring intensely at out of envy while another pair of eyes glared at the blonde to who you were clinging. “Haru!” Rieko whined, tugging on his arm, “Why is everyone swarming her? They have supposed to be around me and telling me how pretty I am! She doesn’t even look good! What a bitch making it all about herself! This is for charity and everyone is caring about her!”

“Who is he?” Haru ignored her, looking at Atsumu. Feeling someone look at him, he turned around and saw Haru glaring at him. Sending him a wide-open smile and a small wave, Haru felt his blood boil, “That little bastard.”

“Who cares about him?” Rieko scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “We are supposed to be the center of the attention. (Y/n) needs to know her place.”

“She’s my fiancé,” Haru continues to glare at Atsumu who made his way towards you and handed you a drink. “It’s normal for her to get attention.”

“She never gets attention,” Rieko rolled her eyes as she muttered. Slapping his arm to get his attention, she huffed, “When are you leaving her?”

“I’m not leaving her Rieko,” Haru muttered through his teeth harshly, “now is not the time to talk about it.”

“We have to talk about it,” She eyed him sternly, “especially after what you said last night to me.”

“I was drunk,” His eyes narrowed, “I didn’t mean anything.”

“But you still said it,” Rieko smirked at him, soothing his suit. Haru tensed under her touch, his eyes scanning around to make sure no one was paying attention to them. Grabbing her wrist, he started to tug her somewhere private.

“What are you doing?” Sakusa asked Hana as he raised an eyebrow at her intense gaze.

“Trying to figure out where I’ve seen her,” She muttered, her eyes followed Haru and Rieko as they sneaked away.

“You didn’t ask (Y/n)?” Sakusa hummed.

“No…” Hana pouted, “I didn’t want to bother her with it.”

Sakusa shrugged his shoulders, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he frowns at how many people were here, “Maybe she was a model at your company or audition.”

“That’s impossible,” Hana shook her head, “I remember everyone-”

“What?”

Looking at the spiker with wide eyes and mouth dropped open, she started to pat his arm, “I remember! I can’t believe I forgot!” Sakusa rubbing his arm and pouted down at him, feeling a slight sting with how hard she patted it as she started to talk. “She auditions at my company! She was so terrible! Oh! Oh! And she talked about how her friend and how rich she was and how she always gets everything she wants and she was-oh…Oh…She was talking about (Y/n)…”

“We have to tell her,” Sakusa said seriously.

“Yeah I know,” Hana nodded, looking at you as you laughed at what Atsumu said to you. “But not now…We’ll tell her tomorrow…She’s having fun right now.”

Nodded at her, he turned and look at you and Atsumu, seeing how easy it was for the two of you to go along with each other. It seemed you were talking about something that was on auction and Atsumu soaked up all your words, looking at what it was and at you, blinking his eyes repeatedly in wonder. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Sakusa sighed. “But they would make a good couple.”

“I can’t believe it either,” Hana sighed, looking at the two of you with a happy smile. “But they would make a good couple…”

“It’s one of the rarest gems in the world Atsumu,” You explained to him, looking at the necklace in the display. “And this-this necklace is THE item of tonight. Everyone wants it and will pay for anything for it.”

“Why is it call The Eye of the Night Sky?” Atsumu tilts his head as he read the name of the necklace.

“Because when you look into the gem,” You said excitedly, “it looks like you’re looking at the night sky!”

“I don’t see it,” Atsumu shrugged his shoulder, stop caring about the necklace.

“Well, I see it,” You pouted with a small frown. With a deep sigh, you bit your lip as you eyed it, “I really want it… But I’m not sure my bid would outbid everyone else…especially if everyone overbids...”

Atsumu's ears perked at what you said, giving the necklace a final glance. “Let’s go look at what else they have to offer,” You smiled at him.

Before the two of you took a step, someone called out you and Atsumu’s name. Looking to your side, you saw Bokuto waving at you as he walked towards both of you with Hinata and someone else behind him. “(Y/n)! ‘Tsumu!” Bokuto laughed, standing in front of you. “Been looking for you! I want you to meet Keiji, my husband!

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” The handsome male greeted you. “I’m Akaashi Keiji. Kotaro talks about you.”

“Good things I hope,” You smiled at him. “It’s so good to finally meet you! Bokuto always talks about you.”

“Good things I hope,” Akaashi smiled at you.

“Of course they're good things!” Bokuto puffed his chest out. “You’re so amazing! I love you so much Keiji!”

“I love you too,” Akaashi smiled at him as Bokuto started to list all the reasons he loves him. You smiled fondly at the two, seeing how much in love they were.

“Nice of you all to have a conversation without us,” Hana joined the group with a teasing smile with Sakusa falling close behind her. All of you started to have a conversation and joking around, enjoying what the night had to offer. Moments later it was time for dinner. Everyone was told to come to the first floor where the ballroom was. Everyone went to their assigned seats, ready to eat.

“This is my table,” You stopped behind your chair.

“We’re a few tables away!” Hinata noted, looking where his table was.

“If anything happened just wink,” Hana smiled, waving goodbye as they walked towards their table.

Taking your seat at the round table with a few business partners of (L/n) Cooperation, Haru and Rieko then joined. Rieko gave you a smug smile as she took a seat next to you while Haru avoided your eyes, taking his seat on the other side of you. Looking straight in front of you, you noticed Atsumu was a few tables away, straight in your eyesight. Seeing you staring at him, he sent you a wink, making you roll his eyes. Hana noticed you were right in the Atsumu line of sight, leaning a bit over, and waved at you. You smiled when Atsumu shooed her away, seeing his lips moved, “Stop hogging her attention!”

Taking your attention away from them, you focus on the conversation happening at the table. You listened intently at their conversation, occasionally telling your opinion on the matters. Throughout the conversation, waiters came by and filled your cups with wine and/or water. Moments later they started to serve the main entrees of what you decided on the invitations. You thanked the waiter as they placed the plate in front of you, picking up your fork and knife.

You noticed a certain vegetable that was on your plate. Stabbing it with your fork, you raise it up, your eyes looking straight at Atsumu who did the same as you did. Atsumu’s eyes nudged towards a certain figure next to you as he tried not to burst out laughing. You try not to snicker as you looked at the baby carrot that was on the end of your fork, remembering Atsumu’s word a few days ago.

“Is something wrong?” Haru asked you, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he sees you trying to hold back a burst of laughter at the veggie.

“No,” You smiled, trying to not let the burst of giggles escape from you, “not at all.”

Taking the bite of the vegetable, your eyes went back to Atsumu who was pointing at the carrot and looking in your direction. When Atsumu was done talking, everyone slowly moved in their seat to look at you, raising an eyebrow in question. Knowing what Atsumu told them and waiting for you to agree with what he said, you nodded your head once slowly, affirming what Atsumu said was true.

Many faces were made. Few nodded their head with a tight lip, slowly accepting the new information they heard. Others had a face of pity as they heard the information, while others had a look of disbelief. Leaning a bit to your side, you were able to see Bokuto looking at the baby carrot on his fork and down to his crotch as if he was measuring something in his head.

I think Atsumu over-exaggerated a bit…

Once dinner was over, many people stayed in their seats or went to the bar instead of dancing in the open space in the middle of the room. The small band that was playing played a nice tune allowing people to sway to the music in their seats but no one got up to dance.

Sighing softly as you looked longingly at the dance floor, you were broken out of your train of thought when a hand appeared on your face as a voice asked, “May I have this dance?”

MASTERPOST-PREV-NEXT

NOTES: Hey guys! I hope ya’ll like (Y/n)’s dress! (Also the pic is only for the outfit) but I wonder what baby carrot told Rieko? Also (m/n) is suppose to be your mothers’s madam name :)

TAGLIST: @girlyluke @reina-de-tay @bloody-bella @gothkaoru @freaksnque @kayleighbeccaa @itoshibaby @missalienqueen @90s-belladonna @ntimacy @persyhange @loser-keiji @lilith412426 @fandomatakeover18 @bbdaydreams @sillyanimedream @noya-kinnie @itzlally @fayeimara @izmeaweeboo @zukoslosthishonor @camcam1617 @karlitaburrito @sakusaakiyoomii @strcwberrieswine @sunavf @tanakasimpcorner @sakusasimpbot @random-fandom-girl-24​ @rintarovibes​ @matsunshine​ @plump-peach @marifujioka @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @criesinpisces

[bitchassbucky]

Ｍｅ/Ｙｏｕ

📎Word Count: 1.9k

📎Warning/s: smut! MINORS DNI. toxic relationship dynamics <3 facefucking, sloppy blowjob, facial (not the skincare one), spitting in mouth, biting?, name calling, cheating/affair (bucky cheats), mean!bucky ig, toxic & manipulative!reader (she coerces bucky into cheating... so), alcohol mention, very very very brief sam x reader was mentioned

📎A/N: this was supposed to be a quick drabble but the fic practically wrote itself sooooooo @babyboibucky @sarge-barnes-sir @borikenlove this one’s for my hoes 💛✨

📎reblogs & comments are always welcomed!

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

The stage lit up as the band finished with a flourish. A roar of cheers and applause vibrates through the entire room, breaking the sweaty and the smoky atmosphere of the bar.

Patrons milled around with their drinks in hand. Drunk people leaning over walls and stools, waiting for their friends to come find them.

Your black-rimmed eyes scanned the room for a viable option. You slowly gaze upon the sea of bar-goers, picking out the best of the bunch.

The girl in a pleated skirt? Still giggling with her friends.

What about the man who’s been eye-fucking you since you got here? Too desperate.

There’s someone leaning over at the edge of the room, but they’re too tall for your liking.

You finished your drink with a sharp gulp, already walking towards the bar for a refill when someone caught your eye.

He looked like a sore thumb sticking out of the crowd. His hair was cropped short, a bit frazzled. A fair shade of stubble showered his sharp jaw, lining over his pink lips.

A smirk played on your painted lips, signaling the bartender for two drinks.

“Hey Sam,” you practically purred. A handsome man tending the bar leans closer to you, bringing forth a couple of shot glasses.

“It’s on the house,” Sam said, sliding a neat square of napkins over your side before placing the drink.

You tilt your head that way and smiled in lieu of thanking. A clink—half a second later, you put the empty glass facing downwards.

“Who’s the new guy?” A genuine question. The subject of the conversation sits patiently behind you, checking his phone periodically.

“A friend,” Sam carefully approaches your question, “he’s dating another friend of mine.” Sam already knows what your game is and how... unstoppable you are, for the lack of a better word.

“Well, that didn’t stop us before, did it?”

Looking over your shoulder, you meet his gaze, beckoning him to join you and Sam by the bar.

“Hey man, what can I get ‘ya?” Sam asked his friend, laying another napkin on his end.

“Just a beer, thanks.” He’s short with words. His steely eyes darting everywhere but you.

“What’s your name?” Now you’re scooting closer, even playing up a stumble when the man behind you roared a boisterous laughter.

He then looks at you, finally, albeit hesitant, “I’m Bucky—are you okay?”

You let a small giggle out, playing coy, “Yes, Bucky, I’m okay.” You stick your hand out, a couple of silver and tungsten rings adorning your fingers.

“Nice to meet you...” Bucky prompted, his large hand engulfing yours.

“Sam’s...friend.”

“Right,” he said, letting go of your hand after a firm shake, “‘m just waiting for my girlfriend.”

Sam already moved away from your area, serving a group of girls by the far end of the bar.

“He always does that,” you pointed out. A shared tidbit of mutual interest. Bucky was close enough to get a whiff of his musky cologne. A sliver of necklace hiding beneath his black shirt.

“Yeah, that’s how I actually met him.” It was unprovoked, what he said, but you kept the conversation going.

“You were with a group of drunk girls?” Your quip made him look at you with a playfully defeated smirk, his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. An act that made your thighs clench from under you.

“No, no. Well—he thought that I was some girl’s boyfriend and he gave me a free drink to ‘apologize.’”

You bring up your best laugh, flicking your hair off your shoulder. Exposing your jewelry-adorned neck to him. He gazed down to your chest before clearing his throat.

He was nervous, you—hell, anyone—could tell. His hands were stuffed in his pants, he fidgets by shifting his weight back and forth on his left foot.

“Are you okay?” You looked up at him through your lashes, you were already a mere half a-foot away from him.

Bucky ran his hand through his hair impatiently, checking his phone again. Still no texts. “Yeah—yeah, I’m fine. My girlfriend’s just taking too long.”

You shot Sam a look before putting your hand on Bucky’s chest, “I know a place where you could wait. It’s quieter in there, you could call her.” Your tone was hopeful—a mutual acquaintance helping out a friend.

Before he knows it, Bucky’s hand was in yours as you guide him through the crowd and into a dimly lit hallway.

The wall was decorated with posters and stickers; pictures of patrons and banned people too.

“In here.” You opened a door, flicking a light switch before fully opening the way to let Bucky through. “This is a rehearsal room, the walls are lined with foam so any noise is filtered—can’t really go in and out.”

The old couch on the back was surprisingly clean and comfy, Bucky settled there as you rummaged around the mini-fridge for another drink.

“Beer?” That wasn’t really a question as you pass him a cold can, sitting down beside him.

He huffed, deft fingers dancing over the screen as he composed a longer text, “she always does this. It’s fucking annoying.”

Like the good friend you are, you scooted over to him, laying a soft hand over his shoulder for comfort.

“Hey, it’s fine. She’s just probably held up right now,” you cooed, a sweet little thing. You take a sip of a drink as he does so.

You give his broad shoulder a brief squeeze and made a face, “you’re really tense, man.”

Comically, he relaxes, letting out a breathless chuckle that sent your core fluttering. “‘m sorry. It’s just—this is our first night out in a long while.”

You hum inquisitively, propping up an arm on the backrest, “have you guys been together long?”

A beat passes before you backtracked.

“Sorry, I haven’t been in a long relationship...” You trailed off, tucking a piece of stray hair behind your pierced ear. You tentatively took another gulp of your drink, your cheeks heating up.

“No, it’s okay. We’ve been together for like, maybe three years, or so?” Bucky looks at you. God, it’s like he’s trying to read you before curating his answers. “Been a long time too.”

“Anything adventurous happening?” You teased him, Bucky’s visibly more relaxed now.

“No, nothing adventurous.” He confessed - an unknown reaction washes over his face as he says it.

“I may or may not know a thing or two on how to make your relationship more exciting.”

“Really? Is that so?” Bucky’s voice dropped a couple of octaves, sending shivers down your spine. He leans over then, getting closer to your face until his face is merely inches away from you.

“Bucky,” you breathe out. Your hands flat against his chest.

He blinks—once, twice.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry—shit, I’m sorry. I- I shouldn’t be here. I’m gonna go—“ His whole demeanor changed. Bucky stands up, straightening his pants and shirt before looking down at you, still seated on the couch.

He was just three steps away from the door when you slot yourself between him and his way, “where do you think you’re going?”

“Outside. Outside, I’m gonna wait for my girlfriend outside.” He’s rambling, his ears are going red. A thin sheet of sweat glistening over his forehead.

Closing the gap between you and him, you lay a hand against his chest, over his heart. “Do I make you nervous?”

Bucky stammers out a broken ‘no.’

“No? Why’s your heart beating so fast, then?”

You reached up to his nape, pushing him down to your height to kiss him hard. He didn’t push you away yet, his hands are gripping your arms for purchase. His fingers digging in the flesh of your shoulders. It’s sure to be bruised come morning.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed out as you pull away. His lips shining and swollen, “what did you do?”

“Something thrilling, really.”

Bucky didn’t know how you got on your knees, tugging his black jeans down along with his boxer briefs in a desperate manner.

“God, I knew you were packing.”

His cheeks heat up even more as you palm him, his length hot and heavy against your hand. You lean in and nipped his thigh, your sharp teeth digging into his skin.

Bucky couldn’t help himself but to hiss and slap you across the face, “don’t fucking bite me.”

He expected you to look up at him with tears in your eyes, what he wasn’t expecting is you looking up with mischief and joy glinting in your eyes as you bite him again—harder this time, “God, fuck—you slut!”

Bucky saw red and grabbed you roughly by your jaw, squeezing your mouth open, “you want me so fuckin’ bad, you’re marking me, aren’t you, huh? Such a fucking slut, look at you.”

He squeezes harder, prying your mouth open as he missed your mouth with his spit, “open your mouth—fucking open!”

You obliged, your knees scraping raw as you kneel before Bucky. You feel his spit drip down your chin, the first time he missed. The second one slid down your tongue, prompting him to forcefully tap your cheek close as you swallow.

His angry cock stood dripping with precum; prominent veins making themselves known. You scoot closer, licking his balls up to the crown of his head which earns you a grunt.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Bucky orders. He wastes no time in bunching your hair up in his fist, slapping your swollen lips and cheek with his cock. “This better than your gloss, yeah? Hmm, yeah, ‘course it is.”

Bucky squeezes your mouth again, pushing his thick cock past your lips, your warmth engulfing all of him at once. “No reflex? My god, you’ve been here before, haven’t ‘ya?”

His presumptions were proven wrong when he started to pump in and out of your mouth. You gagged and choked, your throat constricting around his head every time he hits the back. “In and out through the nose, hmm? Yeah, c’mon. You can do it, bitch.”

Once you got past your reflex and relaxing your throat, Bucky took advantage and sped up. His balls slapping your chin when he thrusts in. The neckline of your shirt wet with spit and drool as he continues to fuck your mouth like he owns it.

You hum as you feel Bucky’s cock throb in your mouth.

“Yeah, yeah—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Another set of rough thrusts, Bucky pulls out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for air. He strokes his girth with his hand, with you licking the angry crown of his length. Ropes of cum spurt out, painting a good portion of your face milky white. You managed to swallow it, catching some in your abused mouth.

He stands tall above you, catching his breath as he tucks himself into his pants once more. “The fuck did I just do?”

“Something adventurous.” You smirk, standing up on your own, wiping your face with the inside of your shirt.

Bucky pats down his pocket for his phone, landing his gaze on the couch to look for it. He saunters over, looking for any texts from his girlfriend.

“You know, I’m doubting you even have a girlfriend,” You let out a sharp quip as you smooth your hair down, drinking the rest of your beer.

“Shut the fuck up.” Bucky retorts, stuffing his phone down his back pocket. Before strutting over a desk and scribbling something.

“What? You came on my face and I can’t say shit?”

He tosses you a piece of paper, catching it on your hand. Bucky gives you a reluctant look before turning the doorknob, leaving you alone in the room.

You unfold the paper then, ‘call me when you’re feeling adventurous’ it says, along with his phone number.

[y0itsbri]

gallavich week 2021 - day 3 - travel au as always inspo from @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

Stuck with You

Words: 5.5k

Summary: A winter storm strands a desperate-to-return-to-Chicago Ian at the airport with no car. A dark-haired mysterious man in an expensive-looking leather jacket and sunglasses seems to be his only hope. Ian grows suspicious of the man's true intentions as they embark on their road trip with some funky excursions. The two men find what need they most in each other.

"Fiona, I'm literally at the gate. I'm about to board now!" Ian was lying straight out of his ass as he was running through the bustling airport, dragging his bag as fast as the bent-as-all-hell wheels on the suitcase would allow him. He had not, in fact, woken up to his first alarm... or second. Maybe he was running extremely late despite Fiona's near-constant nagging to get there early in case something happens again.

Ian mumbled a quiet "Fuck" as his suitcase's wheel locked up again. He did not have time for this. His huffed cursing was apparently heard by Fiona's supersonic hearing. A woman in white capris glared his way. Okay, maybe it wasn't that quiet.

"Ian!" Fiona's voice rang through his phone. She sounded frantic and exhausted. She had every right to be, but Ian was not in the mood for an early morning guilt trip. "What happened? And you better stop fuckin' lying to me and get your ass-"

"Fi, I gotta go, love you, talk to you later, promise," he mumbled all the formalities as genuinely as he could muster before he hung up. He had tuned his attention into his surroundings and noticed an absurd about of people hovered around the rent-a-car station while the airport gates nearly empty, except for the occasional airport employees trying to reason with irritated passengers.

Sure enough, something did happen, as Fiona would have happily predicted. There was a massive winter storm and all flights had been delayed until further notice. Ian idly walked to his gate just to make sure he wasn't going to miss his plane like he had the day before. The gate was a fuckin' ghost town besides one man in an expensive-looking studded leather jacket and shiny dark hair to match. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of purple sunglasses, despite the fact that they were currently indoors.

Ian instinctively stepped closer to the man to maybe strike up a conversation. It wasn't something he was so fond of doing, but if he was trapped at an airport, he might as well make friends. Anything to distract his anxious thoughts about not making it back to Chicago in time for his interview. He couldn't even look at his phone, knowing Fiona was probably blowing it up right now about how he has to get his shit together. He knows.

In the midst of his inner debate, Ian oh-so-gracefully tripped over a chair -- the wheels of his suitcase coming to a halt, causing the bag to loudly clang against a nearby pole.

The man jumped up with a startle, yanking off his glasses and swiftly reaching into his boot and pulling out a small knife. He slowly took in the fact that there was no threat -- just a giant blushing ginger wincing at the knife pointed his direction.

The man sighed and tucked his knife away, "Shit, I thought you were trying to rob me or something."

Ian eyed a small black backpack tucked behind the man's legs. That bag was sleek and tiny compared to Ian's nightmare of a bag.

"Ain't look like you got much to steal," Ian joked, immediately regretting his decision to be witty after literally just being held at knifepoint. Maybe the mysterious man would appreciate his charm.

The man frowned. Okay, maybe Ian's humor wasn't for everyone.

"And how did you get that knife through security?" Ian asked in attempt to ease the tension a bit.

"None of your damn business." The man retorted shortly, but his eyes lingered over Ian for a moment longer, amused.

"Right." Ian replied after a moment. That was fair. He was a stranger, after all. But there was something about this man that was so intriguing. The man stood nearly half a foot shorter than Ian and clearly had the personality to make up for it. Ian was most definitely not in the mood to almost get stabbed again so he decided to lay off the talking, making an obvious show of adverting his gaze from the gorgeous leather-clad man in front of him.

"Uh.. hey," the man spoke up again as he looked around the terminal. "Did I miss the flight or did everyone just get abducted by aliens or some shit?"

Ian was amused at the aliens bit. Who even was this guy?

"It looks like all flights are delayed. Some freak super-storm coming in, don't want any crashes or anything."

"Buncha pussies," the dark-haired man grumbled as he stood up.

"Where are you going?" Shut up, Ian, shut up shut up shut up.

"Rent-a-car? Is that okay with you?" The guy pulled his bag over his shoulder, but turned his gaze back to Ian.

"Uh, yeah, I mean -- sorry, never mind." Nice going, Ian.

"I'm just busting your balls, man. Just gotta get back to Chicago before the weekend. Can't just sit around like a little bitch and wait for a storm to pass like some people." The enigmatic man teased him.

Ian rolled his eyes, but followed him like a lost puppy. "You're not the only one. I have an interview in Chicago in two days and I really can't miss it." Ian pointed back towards the rent-a-car area when the man didn't question him any further. "Don't think you'll have much luck with that, by the way. They looked almost sold outta cars when I walked past here earlier."

"So you walked past the rent-a-car instead of actually getting one? Real smart, Stumbles."

Ian cringed at the nickname. So much for first impressions. The man pulled out his phone from the tight pocket of his pants and stopped abruptly, Ian almost losing his balance to keep from stumbling into the guy. Again. Ian was literally swept up off his feet by this dude. He had to get himself in control before he lost what remained of his dignity.

"Ey' Dimitri, I need a car." The guy said into the phone. Ian awkwardly waited around. It wasn't like they made any plans of travelling together but they were in the middle of a conversation, he couldn't just leave. It wouldn't be polite. Not that much about this guy was polite to begin with. But they had something going at least. The phone conversation got heated very quickly. Now Ian could very clearly see why he was the type of person to have a knife in arm's reach at any given notice.

"I know you have fuckin' plenty. I'll drop it off next time I see Yevgeny, you know I'm good for it. I gotta job this weekend- It is your fuckin' business when your bitch of a wife- Oh c'mon, you can admit she's a bit of a bitch. Whatever- Or do you wanna tell Svetlana that your incompetent ass is the reason why she ain't getting her payment- or do you plan on paying for that shit? Didn't think so. Black cat. Red one."

There was definitely a lot to unpack and as curious as Ian was, he was definitely not gonna ask... yet.

"Red, you comin'?" The dark-haired man called over his shoulder as he started heading towards the airport's exit.

"Me?" Way to play it cool, Ian.

"No. The other giant ginger standing behind you. Yes, you."

"My name's Ian, by the way."

"Don't care."

"Where are we going?"

"Chicago."

--

Together but not together, they waited for... Dimitri, maybe? The shorter man beside Ian was tapping around on his phone and hadn't said a word about their plans beyond the simple 'Chicago.'

Right as Ian got the nerve to ask, a sleek black jaguar came to a halt on the street in front of them. Ian only knew a bit about cars because his brother liked fixing them up -- and man, was this a sick car. Lip would be jealous. Ian fought the urge to take a photo of the car -- unsure what the boundaries were in situations like this.

Ian's mystery man sauntered over to the driver's seat, exchanging a loaded handshake before switching places with the driver, who was apparently not Dimitri.

The passenger side window rolled down, revealing a bright red interior. "Coming, princess?"

Ian placed his suitcase in the backseat before hopping in the front himself.

"Do I ever get to know your name, princess?" Ian teased back. But he was genuinely curious.

The guy smirked, "Buckle up. I ain't slowing down for anything." And true to his word, they sped out of the parking lot, earning a few well-deserved horns from cars that they had cut off. Ian cringed.

--

Ian waited until they were on the interstate to speak again, not wanting to be the cause for an accident with this guy's hectic driving and the snow lightly falling on the road in front of them. Maybe he shouldn't be getting into cars with mysterious strangers. Maybe he should have thought of that before he did, in fact, get into a car with a mysterious stranger.

Ian decided to try again, "Ya know, if you don't tell me your name, I'm just going to start calling you something real stupid, like Bob or Cookie or Raven."

"Raven is actually kinda badass." The man replied, not taking his eyes off the road, but the side of his mouth quirking upward.

This guy was impossible, "Ugh."

"Ya know, you're kind of annoying for a passenger who should be grateful that I'm saving your ass. I could dump you on the side of the road, make you hitch hike all the way to Chicago or wherever the hell you end up. Probably some real weirdos out there wanting to pick up a pretty boy like you."

"Didn't ask to be saved." Ian blushed despite his best efforts to play it cool.

"No? So you were just following me all around the airport, why?" He glanced at Ian this time.

Yeah, he had a point. "Like I said, I got an interview I can't miss. My sister set it up for me and she would actually have my ass if I fucked this up. I'm talking like this-is-the-final-straw." Ian sighed, running his hands up and down his face.

"Hmm. You'll make it. I'm a good driver." He smirked. He lifted his hand off the wheel as if he were about to touch Ian's shoulder or something, but decided against it at the last second.

"Good and fast are not equivalent." Ian's breath hitched.

"Says you." The guy drummed his fingers.

"Says most people. And probably the cops." Ian was not about to spend a night in the slammer.

"Fuck the cops." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah."

The conversation died down and a rock ballad lulled over the car's exquisite sound system. Damn, this was a nice car.

"Mickey." The guy murmured, barely audible over the bass.

"What?" Like the mouse?

"My name's Mickey, by the way." He glanced over at Ian.

Oh. "Kinda badass." Ian returned with eye contact a smirk.

Mickey smiled at the road ahead of them.

--

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." Mickey called out from the driver's seat, patting Ian's shoulder. Ian could have sworn Mickey's hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, but maybe he was just reading into the interaction.

Ian must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive, because now they were parking in the parking lot of a diner. Red neon lights highlighted the exterior, giving the place a sultry vibe. Odd vibe for an off-the-road diner, but Ian supposed it could be weirder.

Mickey hopped out of the car and shoved his hands into the pocket in his leather jacket, searching for something.

After a moment, Ian slowly stretched his legs out as he crawled out of the car and found Mickey smoking a cigarette while leaning against the hood of the car. It was picture perfect. Mickey hadn't noticed him emerge yet, so Ian decided to give into his urges as he snapped a picture of the beautiful man in front of him -- all black shadows and glowing red.

Ian closed the car door and Mickey stubbed out his cigarette and led them inside. "Usual table," he said to the hostess, who led them to a table set for two towards the back of the establishment.

Yeah, this was weird. Who the fuck had a 'usual table' at a joint off the highway in the middle of nowhere?

Inside hung the heads of exotic animals that Ian hoped were fake. Once they were sat across from each other, Mickey ordered a short stack of pancakes and Ian ordered a hamburger and fries -- the first thing he saw on the menu.

"So, brunch and tigers? What is this place?" Ian mused, curiosity and now suspicion overtaking him.

"Cool, huh? Got connections." Mickey went back to rearranging the condiments and sugars on their table.

"Mhm." Ian was skeptical, but didn't want to pry. He seemed to be on this guy's good side for now.

Ian spent the better part of their stay just taking in everything around them. The walls were lined with playing cards, posters from bands he's never heard of, bizarre news articles, lights swung and tacked up with a casual precision, literal jewelry and crowns under display cases, and he could've sworn there was sparkles mixed into the red paint covering the walls. It was like a goblin's cave or something.

Occasionally, he would look up at Mickey, who would look away almost instantly -- like he'd been caught in the middle of something. Planning something? Ian couldn't tell if Mickey's cheeks were actually blushing red or if it was just the lighting. Probably for the best because Ian blushed like a motherfucker whenever he held Mickey's eyes for too long.

Luckily, the waitress brought over their food before Ian could say something stupid. Ian's hamburger and fries were places in a classic red boat with black and white checkered paper. The burger was massive and had a flamingo pick placed in the center of it. Mickey's pancakes were covered in bananas, blueberries, and powdered sugar. The waitress also set down a glass elephant bottle filled with, what looked like, maple syrup. The waitress just smiled at them and walked away without another word. This place was strange. And Ian couldn't shake that feeling.

About halfway through eating, Ian had enough of the odd vibes and promptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. He had to get out of here, forgo his luggage in the fancy ass car. He didn't care if he'd have to hitch hike at this point. He washed his hands in the bathroom sink, planning when to make his escape, when the door swung open.

"Ian." Mickey looked genuinely concerned. No stupid nickname. Ian. "What's wrong, man? You looked pretty sick back there. Is it food poisoning? I'll give Anakin a fuckin' piece of my mind if he didn't cook that fuckin' burger. He knows better than to fuck with me." He rattled off.

Ian felt flighty and tried to take off during Mickey's rage-induced ramble but an arm gripped his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, Ian, look at me." That was the problem. Ian couldn't stop looking at him. He would probably do anything he asked. And that was fucking dangerous. He was a stranger with connections. That couldn't lead to anything good.

Ian finally made eye contact and the grip on his arm loosened, gently sliding towards his wrist before falling back to Mickey's side.

"Promise me you won't kill me." Ian blurted out.

Mickey's eyebrows nearly flew off his face, "Kill you? Where the fuck is this coming from? You think I hate you or something?"

"Well, maybe, I don't know. This is weird."

"Maybe." Mickey paused, actually making an effort to see this whole strange situation from Ian's perspective. "But I like weird."

Ian stayed silent.

"I promise I'm not going to kill you. I promise that I'm going to get you back to Chicago for your interview. I promise we're all good, okay?"

The tension in Ian's shoulder's visibly relaxed and he released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. But that confession still doesn't explain this weird excursion.

"Why does everyone here know you?" Ian finally asked, swallowing his nerves.

This was not a conversation for the men's bathroom, but here they were anyways.

Mickey looked a bit embarrassed. "Used to live a few towns over with my ex-wife-"

"Ex-wife?" Ian nearly choked.

"Svetlana. Fuckin' disaster. But I used to come here with my son, Yev, on special occasions when his mom was out. He always loved it -- thought he was the king or some shit."

"Oh."

"Don't see the kid as much anymore, but this place still has the best fuckin' pancakes so we go when we can."

"So this isn't a sting operation to kidnap me?"

Mickey rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot. I actually happen to like you."

"Yeah, me too."

"So glad you like yourself, champ."

"Oh, fuck me." Ian groaned.

"Maybe later." Mickey smiled too sweetly for someone who had just insinuated what they had.

They returned to their table, finishing off what they could. Mickey had insisted he pay for both of their meals -- reparation for nearly giving Ian a heart attack and fleeing off to fucking Mexico or something. The waitress collected their tab and walked away with a wink, "Have fun tonight, boys."

"See ya 'round, Geneva." Mickey called, "Always in my fuckin' business." But Ian could tell it was meant with nothing but fondness.

Mickey held gave a two finger salute to the hostess on his way out before holding the lion-studded doors and turning to face Ian, "We're in this together, yeah?"

"Yeah."

--

Ian didn't fall asleep in the car this time. Instead, they played the license plate game and carried impersonal conversation in between stops at gas stations and fast food restaurants.

--

"Books or movies?" Ian read from his phone.

"What kind of fuckin' question is that?"

"From the online list you made me look up!"

"Yeah, because you suck at coming up with questions!"

"Whatever. Books or movies?"

"Movies, duh."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't like books? When was the last time you even read a book?"

Mickey flipped him off, "What about you, smartass? You prefer books over movies?"

"Well, no..."

"Well, exactly."

--

"Cats or dogs?" Ian asked. "I've never had either, but dogs are cool."

"Yeah, 'cause you act like one."

Ian gasped, mocking an expression of hurt. "I bet you're a dog person, though."

"Yeah, why're you so sure about that?"

"They're all tough and shit."

"I got a cat back home. She's tougher than any dog I know."

"What's her name?"

"Indy."

"Aw, softy."

"It's short for Indica, clearly we're cool."

Ian gave an even more exaggerated "Aww."

"Shut up, next question."

--

They had missed the worst of the winter storm that had threatened their flight and gotten them in this situation to begin with. It was starting to get dark and while Mickey assured Ian that he could drive through the night, Ian insisted they could stop at a hotel and still make it back before his interview. Truthfully, he didn't want to be involved in a luxury car crash with a maybe Russian mobster. He couldn't pinpoint Mickey, but that's what he had currently decided on.

They had pulled off into the lot of a pink hotel. Mickey had gotten them two rooms, side-by-side. Instead of going up to his room and passing out like Ian had expected, Mickey headed straight towards the hotel bar -- ordering a mojito and a vodka tonic and making friendly talk with the waitress in a very low cut red shirt like they were old friends. Mickey was nothing like Ian expected.

Ian headed up to his room to drop off his suitcase and call Fiona back, sure she was going to disown him right then and there for avoiding her calls all day.

--

Ian opted against going down to the bar and instead watched reruns on the hotel tv. Alcohol didn't really mix well with his meds and he didn't want a hangover if they were going to be in a car all day tomorrow -- especially a nice car like that. Yeah, he wasn't puking in that anytime soon if he could help it.

He took a long, hot shower, indulging in the hotel's eucalyptus-scented body wash before settling in for the night.

Ian was resting peacefully until he heard a blood-curdling scream next door. Mickey was next door. Mickey.

Ian leapt out of bed, grabbing nothing but his shirt before frantically knocking on Mickey's door. C'mon Mickey, don't be dead. C'mon. C'mon.

Mickey swung open the door rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Ian?"

"Uh, hi. I heard screaming. Just making sure you're not being murdered."

"Shit, yeah. I get night terrors sometimes. I meant to mention that to you, but it must have slipped my mind after a few drinks. Didn't see you down there?"

"I called it an early night," Ian replied guiltily. He felt bad if Mickey was waiting for him. But he didn't know.

"Yeah... anything else?" Mickey looked Ian up and down. Ian was suddenly hyper aware he was standing in front of Mickey in only his boxers.

"Um, no." Ian glanced around nervously.

"Great." Mickey shut the door. Whatever. Ian turned to open his door, but it wouldn't open. He searched his pants for the key card only to be reminded that he was not, in fact, wearing pants. Fucking great indeed.

Ian knocked on Mickey's door again.

"What?" He grumbled with a tooth pick between his teeth. "'m not fuckin' screamin' anymore."

"I locked myself out."

"Of course you did." Mickey rubbed a hand down his face, "You ain't goin' down to the front desk in your underwear and I'm not goin' down there either so it looks like you can either come with me or sleep in the hallway, your choice."

Some choice.

Ian followed Mickey into his room, the same layout as Ian's -- just mirrored. Mickey tossed a blanket at him and then collapsed back into the pillows himself.

Ian tried to make himself comfortable on the ground but all he was going to do was bruise his fuckin' spine and freeze his ass off because apparently Mickey likes to sleep in Antarctica.

"Fuckin' cold." Ian mumbled, cocooned in his one tiny hotel-grade blanket that hardly covered his long body.

Mickey didn't open his eyes, but he lifted the comforter on the bed, "Get in here, Frosty."

Ian hesitated. But he was really fucking cold. He made sure not to touch Mickey at all as he crawled under the covers, laying as still as he could on the edge of the mattress. Mickey sighed and scooted his back into Ian's chest, grabbed Ian's arm, and draped it around his waist. "There."

Ian was still for a moment before settling into the warmth.

"Mickey." He said softly. He wasn't even sure if Mickey had heard him.

"What?"

"Is that your real name? Mickey?"

Mickey sighed, "Mikhailo."

"Hmm. I like Mikhailo. It's like Mick-halo, like you're an angel."

"Baby, you've met me. There ain't nothing good about me. I'm more like the devil."

"Why's that?"

"Dude, I almost knifed you when we first met."

"I had that coming, though."

"Maybe so."

"Is that all?"

"Fuckin' terrorized my neighborhood as a kid."

"Me too, you ain't special. Got anything else?"

"I'm a raging homo."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Me too. Anything else?"

"Can't do enough for my own kid."

Ian was quiet so Mickey continued.

"Svet won't keep him in Chicago where my job is. I don't wanna be the asshole to choose work over my kid, but I can't just up and leave, either."

"Yeah, but it sounds like you visit him a lot. He must know you love him, though. Bet you're a better father than mine."

"Yeah, mine too. Ain't hard to beat. He's a real dick. I don't wanna be anything like that piece of shit."

Ian squeezing his grip around Mickey's waist. "You're not. I'm still betting you're all things good."

"Hmm."

"Guess we'll just have to see."

"Guess so."

A moment passed before Mickey spoke again.

"Go to sleep, stupid."

"Goodnight, Mick-halo."

Ian nestled his head into Mickey's hair, smelling the eucalyptus on his as well. The two not-strangers drifted off together.

--

Ian woke up after Mickey, who was already packing up his oddly tiny back pack again. And Ian's suitcase. He took a moment to recall last night's events.

"How the fuck did you get that?"

"Morning to you, too." Mickey tossed a prepacked muffin at Ian's half asleep body. "Went to the front desk for a spare key after continental breakfast, duh. Eat up, we're leaving in 10."

Ian groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He felt a weight on the mattress beside him. He peeked from behind the blanket to see that Mickey had sat down and was currently staring at his legs? Ass? Who knew. Turns out 'thighs' was the correct answer as he set his hand on the outer part of Ian's right thigh. Just resting it there for a moment before getting up.

"Fine, we're leaving in 15."

Satisfied, Ian closed his eyes for a few minutes, feeling the ghost of Mickey on his leg. He was so warm. It was like his heart was on fire.

--

They ended up leaving 10 minutes after Mickey's initial 15 were up. But it wasn't Ian's fault that there was a hold-up at the front desk. Something about a scheduling conflict between a drag show and a speech contest. Hell, Mickey thought they should combine the two events and call it a day.

Back in the car, Mickey had some upbeat indie music playing this morning while they circled around the old town to find a gas station.

"Ya want anything?" Mickey asked before he turned away from the pump and towards the building, patting down his ass to make sure he had his wallet.

Ian was distracted by the patting for a moment before replying. "Uh, maybe a Gatorade or something?"

Mickey tapped the hood of the car twice instead of replying verbally, but the message was received nonetheless.

Ian pulled up the picture he had taken yesterday of Mickey in front of the bizarre diner, moments before he thought he was being hunted for sport. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

After a moment, the driver's side door swung open, "Whatcha lookin' at, Smiles? Texting your girlfriend?" Mickey teased as he closed the gas tank and hopped in with a coffee balancing in one hand and three different flavors of Gatorade in the other.

"Nothing." Damn, Ian. Like that ain't an obvious lie.

"Ain't nothing, lemme see." Mickey took Ian's phone and dropped the Gatorades on his lap.

"Ouch! Well, thanks -- for these -- but give me my phone back!"

"Is that me?"

No sense in lying now. He was literally looking at it. "Uh, yeah. Thought it looked cool."

"That's dope as fuck, man. Send that shit to me, I wanna post it on my Instagram."

Ian certainly hadn't expected that response. But when had Mickey ever been what he expected?

"I don't have your number." And he wasn't asking for his number like some school girl. Mickey had literally requested he send him something. Ian had no idea why he felt so ridiculously nervous.

"Gimme." Mickey made grabby hands for the phone and began to plug in his number before Ian realized that this definitely counted as distracted driving in a very nice car. "Done."

Done.

--

The morning and afternoon went by pretty quickly. Mickey sang along to some pop songs while drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Ian took some photos of the inside of the car, earning some light teasing from Mickey. Shut up, this might be my only time in a car worth more than ten grand.

Ian watched the highway and the grass blurring past his window when he suddenly remembered the small notepad and pen he had swiped from Mickey's hotel room.

Mickey looked pretty distracted, so Ian took it out and began to sketch his profile. The man was too beautiful. He couldn't help himself. With a burst of confidence, he added a note to it before ripping the page out and sticking it in the side pocket of Mickey's back pack. If Mickey saw him, he didn't say anything -- for once -- and Ian was glad for that.

--

They were nearing Illinois state lines, so they had to get into travel specifics. Ian gave him the address to his apartment. Both being Southside, Mickey knew the area well enough that he wouldn't need directions until last minute.

Ian figured now was as good as time as any to ask, "What are you doing in Chicago?"

Mickey made a face like he was thinking about how much he wanted to explain to Ian. "Well, for one, I live there. Second, you've seen my tattoos right?" He held out his knuckles reading FUCK U-UP. Ian nodded and Mickey relaxed one hand back onto the steering wheel before continuing, "Tattoos were a family ritual. I help my brothers on runs when they need it -- those idiots can't plan for shit by themselves. Makes good money though. I also work part-time at this high-end restaurant downtown. Satisfies my sister that I have a legit job. Ain't too bad either. Lotta sketchy shit goes on, though, but they know I'm good to look the other way for a low low price." He grinned.

"Damn, you sure are something," Ian mused.

"Yup yup. What about you hot-shot? What's the whole deal with this interview?"

Ian sighed. "Never finished high school and uh, I have a mood disorder thing so a lot of places won't even consider me. Got fired from my last job for snapping at the dickhead manager --which was well-deserved by the way -- but still stupid. My sister, Fiona, got me this interview with the magazine company she works for -- she thinks I'm so sick like our mother and that if I don't have a job to keep me stable that I'll just fuck off. But the job would be really cool because I've been into photography and shit since like forever. I don't know, it's stupid. But I really just can't stand to let anyone down again, because I am better. They just don't always believe me."

Mickey frowned, and Ian worried he shared too much. But then Mickey rested his hand on Ian's thigh, "Hey, man. That sounds cool. But it's okay to not be okay. Just be honest with me, and I believe you. Promise?"

"Promise."

--

Ian's apartment was in sight before he knew it. It was starting to get dark out, but he would still be able to get a good night's sleep before his interview in the morning. Mickey's car definitely did not belong in his neighborhood. It stood out like a sore thumb. He couldn't stay for long if he wanted to leave with the car in tact.

Mickey helped Ian get his suitcase out of the backseat and then leaned against the car, watching Ian with a strange look in his eye. Before Ian could ask, Mickey stalked over to him and leaned up, and pressed his lip's against Ian's. He smelled so sweet. It wasn't the eucalyptus shampoo either -- that had long faded. This was just pure Mickey. Mikhailo.

The moment was over too soon and Ian groaned. Mickey gently patted his cheek, "Don't worry, big guy, you ain't gettin' rid of me this easy. I'll see you soon."

"Soon." Ian repeated back, still a bit dazed in the head.

Mickey smirked as he hopped back into the jaguar and sped off to wherever the fuck it is that Mickey goes.

Ian lugged his bag upstairs, unlocked his door, and plopped down on the couch.

Soon.

--

After texting Fiona one last time, Ian had turned his phone off to avoid any distractions. Giving in to the urge to text Mickey would definitely be a distraction. He needed routine. At least for tonight.

It was a relatively quiet night in terms of activities. He had microwaved a frozen dinner and watched a couple episodes of Schitt's Creek before taking his meds, brushing his teeth, and heading to bed.

No matter how chill of a night he was planning on having, his mind kept racing with thoughts of Mickey with everything he did. That man was so cool and funny and kind, even if he didn't believe it himself. Ian didn't know what exactly had caused such a reign of self-doubt over him, but they would talk about it someday. Ian wanted him to see how good he was. Mickey just brought long-vanished excitement to Ian's life again. He trusted him and cared for him. And he missed him. They had only spent two days together, but Ian couldn't imagine sleeping without him. He drifted off to sleep thinking about what Mickey would look like in his bed with him.

Ian had gotten up at his first alarm for once and arrived to the interview 15 minutes early. He was genuinely passionate about this job so it was easy to turn up his charm. He would hear a call back later that afternoon, but given that he was pretty sure Fiona was sleeping with his would-be boss's boss, he was almost certain he would get the job.

Ian finally turned his phone on when he got home. One message from Fiona -- reminding him of the interview. But more importantly, three from Mickey. He immediately clicked on Mickey's name, absolutely no use in playing it cool anymore. He couldn't get him out of his head.

Mickey (9:27pm): *image attachment*

Mickey (9:27pm): found this in my bag, i wonder how it got there🤔

Mickey (7:32am): good luck at your interview! hope it was worth literally dragging your ass across the country for

Ian smiled.

Ian (10:06am): I have absolutely no idea how that drawing got there. Maybe trolls? 😇

Ian (10:07am): And your luck helped! I think the interviewer liked me :)

Mickey (10:07am): hopefully he didnt like you too much

Ian (10:09am): SHE liked me a very healthy amount.

Mickey (10:10am): gonna keep it that way

Ian (10:12am): 🙄 Oh Mick. Can't be jealous over something you don't have.

Mickey (10:15am): i have you right where i want you dont you worry your pretty little head

Ian (10:17am): So you think I'm pretty is what I'm hearing?

Mickey (10:18am): i think your annoying go away

Ian (10:19am): I thought I couldn't get rid of you that easy?

Mickey (10:19am): changed my fucking mind

--

Their texting banter came to a halt when Mickey picked up a shift at his legitimate job. Ian unpacked his ratty old suitcase and cleaned up his apartment while he waited for his phone to ring. From the job... from Mickey.

--

Right when he was switching loads of laundry, his phone rang. It would be a lie if he said he didn't drop everything and run.

It was his new boss him on his new job. He couldn't hold back his grin as he immediately texted Mickey, then Fiona. He was proud of himself.

Fiona called and they chatted about the job -- omitting the part where he assumed she was sleeping with the boss -- and Ian's road trip -- omitting the part where he kissed his once assumed kidnapper -- and then about Fiona's kids and Carl's lately stunt. He was so invested in his little criminal brother that he almost didn't hear the knock at his door.

"Fi, I gotta call you back. I think I have a delivery or something." Ian wasn't expecting anything.

Ian nearly leapt backwards when he cautiously opened his door (there were no damn peepholes in his building) to find Mickey waiting on his doormat with a grin on his face. "Congrats on the job, man!"

"Oh my God. You're here?"

"Yeah, I told you I would see you soon. I'm a man of my word. And I brought cupcakes." Always the unexpected. "Well minus one. I didn't know which apartment was yours and I went to your neighbor's first and he wouldn't tell me where you lived without a fuckin' cupcake. Greedy asshole." He murmured, quietly smiting the old bastard.

"Mickey." Ian smiled, eyes crinkling with it. "You're good. You're so good."

[jostepherjoestar]

An Educational Favour: III

NOTsfw // FEM! reader & pronouns

warnings/notes: 18+ content, minors dni, it’s Ghiaccio x reader x Risotto ;), interc0urse, v0yeurism?, degrading, female pejoratives, spanking, overstimulation, stuffed creampuff (if ya get what i mean)

part 1- 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

PART III: ⛸Ghiaccio⛸

Soft light blue fabric bounced on your upper thighs as you sped to Ghiaccio’s room to meet up with Risotto and the blue curled grump. The cute ruffled trim tickling you every once in a while, the babydoll negligee making you feel like the cutest little cake topper. You had indulged an inkling that Ghiaccio would like cute and frilly things despite his usual nature. Curious to find out what today had in store as you entered your third guest’s dimly lit bedroom. The two men broke off their conversation to eye you from the very top of your head to the very tip of your toes. A bit taken aback by their staring you softly smiled while waving your fingers at them, starting to feel shy under their hungry gazes. The red frames resting on Ghiaccio’s nose were quite bad at hiding his cheeks that starting flushing in a similar colour. “Hey guys.” Nervously rubbing the ruffled fabric of the flouncy hem between your fingers, your soft voice snapping the two out of the strange spell you had seemed to put them under.

As far as you could tell the men appeared to appreciate today’s choice of lingerie, patting yourself on the back for the excellent choice. “We were just discussing things, come sit.” Risotto informed as you slid next to Ghiaccio on his bed who seemed to have grown anxious as his shoulders tightened and his jaw locked, a big gulp bobbing his Adam’s apple when you inched closer. Nodding to indicate you were listening, hoping that Ghiaccio would start. “Ghiaccio…?” Your capo inquired, giving his knee a quick tap to bring him back to reality. He had been staring in front of him, catatonic almost, while you’d both patiently awaited his plans. The nervous man besides you snapping his head to meet your eager one, taking in the way your compassionate smile tried to calm him down. The space between you seeming too suffocating for a moment, making him breathe out deeply. The gentle hand being placed on his shoulder almost melting right through him. “I’m fine.” The low growl swatted away your kind gesture. “What are we doing today, Ghiaccio?” You tried your best to remain patient with him, still curious to know what he’d like to indulge in.

Risotto didn’t let much slip about what Ghiaccio had revealed about his kinks or desires. He’d assured you it wasn’t too overwhelming to ease your mind that had conjured up the wildest suggestions. “First I need to know you won’t tell anyone what we’ll do today.” His tone had softened, a few drops of nervous sweat slowly drying up again as he recollected himself. Risotto moved back in his seat to offer the man space, the creaky woven chair noisily squeaking as he leaned back into the pastel coloured cushions, the sight of his darker and goth like aesthetic against the softer hues of Ghiaccio’s interior offering quite the comical contrast.

“I promise. You have my word, Ghiaccio.” Another sympathetic hand squeezing his thigh, offering a small smile, urging him to continue. You kindness moved away the heavy fog that clouded his anxious thoughts, choosing to indulge in your sweetness rather than swatting it away again. “Ok. Risotto told me you’re very comfortable with stuff already. A little too eager maybe…” he trailed off as you shot the dark eyed capo a frown, only making his dimple appear, enjoying teasing you. “Uh-huh, ok.” Turning your attention back to tonight's guest for his follow up. “Well I can get worked up during…you know-” he gestured vaguely, indicating he meant sex. It made you huff out a chuckle at his choice to not say it. His voice grew quieter as he continued. “I want to spank you… call you mean things. If that’s ok. And…” the hesitation so obvious but his tone so kind and demure for once. The idea of being spanked and called names already peaking your interests as you pressed your thighs together in anticipation. “And?” You urged him on. “Risotto can join as well… I mean I’ll do everything but he can hold onto you.” For a moment there it had almost felt like all your dreams came true, a rush of pure lustful energy coursing through you as you perked up, eagerly searching for your capo’s approval. “It’s fine by me.” At this point you were practically hopping up and down next to Ghiaccio who seemed to grow less nervous now, unclenching his jaw and placing his hand over the one you’d rested on his thigh, avoiding your delighted smile and excited noises as he stared off, rosy cheeks growing even darker.

He’d been slightly nervous about the whole ordeal, having heard little about the previous escapades from his teammates other than that you were ever so delicious. Having to be so vulnerable made him all the more anxious, wondering if you’d let him cuddle you afterwards, something he so desperately craved after the roughness. The idea of his capo there as well had brought him peace of mind, just like it did for you. The man always had a knack to offer his stern voice as a guiding beacon to settle Ghiaccio’s frustrations, grounding him back into clarity.

You couldn’t help but admire Ghiaccio as he removed his top, his muscled arms and broad shoulder being revealed to you for the first time. He’d asked you to keep your pretty outfit on and to only take off the matching panties, them quickly being placed on his desk. Risotto had taken a seat at the head of Ghiaccio’s bed, resting topless against the headboard, his torso never having looked more inviting as your hungry eyes traced his well defined abs. Those dark eyes trained on you, hazed over in desire and the idea of having you in his arms while you’re being pleasured. The thought alone making his growing bulge twitch. Ghiaccio had removed his trousers as well now, his silk blue boxers the only thing separating his hardness from the open air.

You gave him a few innocent blinks, awaiting the man to take action, his hunger was clear in his harsh glare that kept moving between your chest and eyes appreciatively. He grabbed onto your shoulders with a strong grip, swiftly placing you between him and Risotto. Those sturdy hands letting go and traveling up to clutch your face tightly as he met your lips with bruising strength. His hold was strong and full of need, his tongue racing to lap around yours as he breathed heavily. No choice but to meet his power, straddling onto his seated hips and letting your hands roam his back, toying with his curls as he nipped at your lips while coming up for air. “God you’re such a gorgeous slut. I want to fuck you into the mattress till you can’t even breathe anymore.” His nasty words tickling your neck as he worked his way down, lightly spanking one of your cheeks behind you with a velvety groan. The slight tap making your core clench around nothing, feeling his hardness grow underneath you. Seeing how the tap didn’t affect you just yet, he opted to provide another one, this time with thrice the power. “Fuck Ghiaccio!” You hissed while grinding your hips into his cock, breathing heavily down his neck. His ferocity was intoxicating, almost animalistic and drenched in longing.

As you clung to his hips he moved you in between your capo’s legs, almost too flustered by the icy haired one’s actions, making it slip your mind Risotto would also be a part of tonight’s activities. If only a little bit. His chest felt so nice against your back, his warmth radiating against you as he swung one arm around your waist, securing you in place. He hummed in appreciation as Ghiaccio fervently worked down your body, rolling a nipple through the thin light blue fabric and kneading and massaging your other breast. “I’m gonna make you come before spanking your ass raw while I pound into you. Such a good cock slut.” His growls only made your core ache in anticipation, thoroughly wet already and awaiting any attention. Letting out soft hisses whenever he pinched you too hard, the stings only preparing you for the spanking in mind.

The way Risotto breathed deeply and the feeling of his clothed hard cock grazing the small of your back, the way Ghiaccio was sliding down to move open your legs, made a loud needy moan escape your plump lips. Begging him to please you, tired of clenching around nothing. “Fill me Ghiaccio please!” You pleading so pathetic it only made the man move faster than he already was. The nerves from before having been completely replaced by carnal desire. “You’re such a needy whore, begging me to fuck you.” His growl grazing your folds as he got down between your legs. You felt the arm around your waist tighten and the hard cock behind you twitch as the wet sounds of Ghiaccio starting to lap at your pussy began. Another deep growl vibrating straight through you this time as he tasted your wetness. “You even taste sweet, like you were made to be used like this.” The brims of his glasses had started to fog as he got down again, suckling on your clit and moving his tongue in alternating motions, the sensation as good as you remembered. More mewls and desperate moans filled the air, another team member who clearly knew how to please you. Every lick and suck sending fiery jolts through your body, your hips bucking up to meet his hot mouth.

After a slight shift, Ghiaccio slid a thick digit inside of your wanton core, the squelching of your juices so lewd as he pressed deeper, grasping walls already moving against it. The welcome entry of another one filling you making your breath hitch, the fingers felt quite chilly inside you while you clenched around him with need. With a swift stroke he moved his wetted fingers out, up and inside your slacked mouth, making you taste your own sweet essence. “You even like the taste of your own pussy. Of course you do, such dirty bitch.” His fingers only slid deeper as you lapped at them, sucking off all you could, slightly choking as he reached your limit. Your spit now mixed on his digits as he slid them out, drool sloppily still connecting them to your lips, working them back between your wet folds. Returning to his previous position to suckle at your throbbing bud of nerves while working his fingers in and out with great power and tempo. Just like he’d warned you, he was getting worked up, cheeks red and forehead sweaty as he aimed to please.

His actions making you babble his name over and over intermingled with “oh fuck”’s, nails digging into Risotto’s arm around your waist. The fast movement of his fingers stimulated your senses as he worked your clit with his able mouth. “Come for me you nasty slut!” You had been close already but his awful words only drove you further, toppling over the edge and letting the waves of pleasure take you over while his movements didn’t even slow. He let you moan and writhe until his jaw hurt and his fingers cramped, the overstimulation burning but not before he coaxed another orgasm out of you. It came on amazingly fast and unexpected, it almost made you scream at how deep it hit you. Ghiaccio had stopped his mouth now, wiping your juices from his chin while panting. His fingers slowing down as the final clenches eased around them. Out of breath and thoroughly fucked out by his fingers you started to release your iron grip on Risotto’s arm, crescent moons denting his tender skin.

“Fuck Ghiaccio…” mind still recollecting itself after the double orgasm he just so kindly delivered. “Now it’s my turn.” Licking his lips while a lecherous smirk ate up your tired expression. A quick nod to his capo and the warmth of his grasp left you, another quick motion later and he’d pulled you back from Risotto before flipping you over. Face down into your capo’s hard cock, still constrained under his trousers. The man behind you dipping the mattress after slipping off his silken shorts, already having left a wet spot of leaking pre-come in them from all the excitement.

You felt him line up at your entrance, his spongy head teasing you as he firmly gripped the base. “You gonna take me like the slut you are?” His voice was never that displeasing to the ears when calm but his usual growls would be forever changed after tonight. No longer making you wish he calmed down, instead wishing they growled how much of a good slut you were. When you only replied with a hum, mind still recovering, he offered a loud smack to your asscheek that was so invitingly staring back at him, both waiting to get painted red by his taps.

“Answer me!” Another harsh slap, this time on the other, the stinging mixing with the lingering pleasure of your orgasms making it hard to mutter anything as your legs trembled. “Yes Ghiaccio! Please…” Unashamed you felt yourself drooling over Risotto’s cock as he held your head gently. His thumb ever so lightly caressing your cheek, finally letting himself touch you after much hesitation. He couldn’t deny it, seeing you like this, barely able to speak from pleasure made him throb. You were doing so good, it only made him want to ravage you more.

Pleased with your answer he slid inside your waiting hole, so incredibly wet that there was no set back as Ghiaccio slid inside. You fit so nicely around him, his length felt less girthy than the others but enough length to reach all the way to the most pleasurable spots inside you. With every slam into you he reached so deep, heavy balls smacking against you with every move. Small moans coming from your cute little mouth as you tiredly basked in satisfaction, your walls clenching around him every so often making him twitch and hiss, followed up by another hard spank on your ass. It had grown so beautifully red as Ghiaccio admired his work while continuing his thrusts.

Risotto’s soft ministrations on your neck and cheek bringing you comfort while ferociously getting slammed into, every move rubbing you further into his groin. A curious hand coming to slide over his clothed cock. In your hazy state you still wished to please your capo, this had been the closest you’ve ever been to him. It felt like a gift to have him under you, so hard and excited. Part of your initial request to have him educate you on the world of desire coming to fruition. With every harsh thrust, you moved over his cock, grabbing onto it through his clothes. An almost unintelligible hiss coming from his softly parted lips, they looked so inviting.

Ghiaccio’s grunting behind you got louder and louder, his thrusts were starting to falter into helpless shakes. The way you clenched around him after hitting deep inside you making him moan. The sound so sweet and needy as you gripped your capo tighter and worked faster, the man behind you was getting awfully close and you still had a job to do. Offering wet sloppy kisses to Risotto’s clothed cock every few strokes to get him closer, his pets on your cheek still continuing as his grip and your head tightened. He was close as well. “I’m gonna come inside your wrecked pussy!” The harshest slaps you’ve received all night being planted on your cheeks as his sloppy speed quickened. His movements had made a deeper wave of pleasure build up in your core, ready to spill over just as he was.

Loud groans filled the air as hot ropes of come filled you up, the feeling of the warm drips making you help fill the room with the most lewd sounds. But your cup was so close to overflowing, still needy for another orgasm and that of your capo. “Keep going Ghiaccio… f-fuck.” You muttered, a wet puddle of drool staining your capo’s pants as you fervently worked his shaft. “You’re such a fucking slut.” The man behind you growled as he kept working in and out of you, his come coating you so nicely as his cock slid easily with his movements. If only you could so how blazed red his face was, trying his best to keep going as the overstimulation made him hold his breath. Finally you felt the rush of heat move over you, legs trembling as you gripped Risotto’s cock, urging him to come for you during your own loud moans. Ghiaccio’s pace faltered completely, the way you squeezed around him pulling the sweetest mewls from him. “Sh-i-it.” His breath hitched as he felt a final rush of pleasure careen through him.

Finally you felt your capo twitch under your hand, working him through his orgasm as you hazily recovered from yours. That deep sigh of relief letting you know he was satisfied, his large finger’s movement had slowed down considerably until they stopped, resting on your flushed face.

Ghiaccio pulled out, too exhausted to even admire the way his come was leaking out of you. Your tired knees sliding down onto the mattress as you regained your breath. Risotto moved you over next to him, Ghiaccio sliding against the far right side of his bed to lay next to you. The bed was tight for three people so you took Ghiaccio into your arms, letting him rest his head into the crook of your neck as you cradled him. The grump too tired to protest and if he’s being honest with himself, it was just what he needed and hoped for. To rest in gentle arms after a job well done. Risotto’s large figure spooning you from the other side while gently caressing your arm as his chin rested on top of your head.

All worked out and sleepy, the three of you lay there, no shame or embarrassment. Blissfully indulging in each other’s intimacy. A lazy hand from your blue haired teammate came over to lightly pet your outer thigh. “Do you want me to ice that?” Remembering how red he’d slapped your behind, hoping he hadn’t been too harsh. “Mhh… later. Let’s rest first.” You yawned, not even bothered by the mess seeping out of you. Too worked out to worry about it now.

As you recollected your thoughts, that goofy worn out smile resting on your lips, you made sure to encapsulate what you’d learned today. Everything about the combo of being degraded, used and spanked turned you on. The contrast of the loving holds on each other offering a comforting conclusion. Feeling a smug satisfaction over having been able to work your capo twirling around your mind as you gently played with the blue curls resting in your neck. “That was fun.” You whispered, hoping your companions were still lucid to hear it.

[tomdiddlyumptious]

Hey! If your uncomfortable please ignore this ask, but i was wondering if you could write something similar to malcome & marie? Thank you! Happy belated birthday!

Thank you baby! I actually thought about this ask for a bit. As a community we do NOT support or want anything like that in our lives, okay?

But if you as a reader would be uncomfortable with reading this then do not.

this will be kinda very similar to the plot of malcome & marie sooo....

Pairings: Film creator!tom x used to be sex worker!reader

WE SUPPORT SEX WORKERS. YOU ARE GOLDEN😩🙌🏽

Summary: after a celebration its time for the downfall

Warnings: argueing, slut shamming, smut mentions. Drinking, smoking. Not proof read. TOXIC- suicide mention.

I hopw this is just as confusing as it was in the actual movie, cuz yeah. Pls dont be shy to say something about it. And tbh if it isnt that good to you i dont blame you, its currently 11:16 and i should be asleep.

You and tom walked in, a wide smile on his face as he danced around and shut the front door behind him. “Baby i did it!”

A faint smile played on your lips as you walked to the kitchen “yes you did, tom. You hungry?” You asked, opening the fridge as he went to go get a bottle of remy and two glasses, the rings shinning bright on his finger. “Yeah, can i have uh-“ he thought, stopping in his tracks and jerking his head as he couldnt think of anything.

“How about pancakes?” He randomly said and you chuckled “pancakes? Really?” “Of course! A sweet treat for a very sweet day” he walked up to the kitchen placing the glasses and the remy down.

You laughed again before taking out the pan, he also got to work by getting out the mix and the water while you got everything else. A cigarette in your mouth as tom helped light it while you mixed up the powder with the water.

“I never knew i could make it so far” he muttered, grabbing the remy and pouring it into the glass, tilting his head back and letting out a small moan from the sting in his throat. “You did a good job”

“Ya know, everyone is so judgemental, like i could walk around with my shoes untied and somebody would fucking give me a glare- or even what you call it. a stank eye” you nodded at his words letting him know you were listening, “but when i made that fucking movie i had all these women just- i cant even explain it” he shrugged, walking around the house with the glass in his hand, a wide smile on his face while you sighed and puffed out the smoke, the sizzle from the mix going on the buttered pan audible before he speaked again.

“They just kept on telling me how fucking talented i am, how i get women so fucking well. I mean goddamn im such a fucking genius” he edged on, cocky as he stomped his feet at his words,’ such, a, fucking, genius’

“Yes you are tommy” you looked down and seen the mix bubbling, taking the spatula and flipping the pancake, shifting and leaning on your right leg as your dominant hand sat on your hip, the other holding onto the cig.

“But it’s confusing. Any other time they would probably fucking- what do you call it” he snapped his fingers before taking a sip. “Aha! Fucking cancel me!” He pointed at the ceiling. “Why would they do that tommy” you lifted your eyebrow, “youre only writing a good story” you sighed, looking at the plates and rubbing a mark that was left on them.

“People now days do it just because....just because their bored- or even because they dont like them- BUT-“ he lifted his finger towards you “they have no reason to”

“Mhm, you should wait for the reviews” you took the cigarette and put it in the ash tray, taking the fire out before putting the pancake on the plate.

“They have to be good! I can make fucking millions off of this” he smiled, quickly walking over before chugging his drink.

“Yes...yes you can” “and then we could buy a fucking island, a boat and even a horse!” He laughed, amazed and he set down the glass before coming behind you, pressing kisses to your neck as he watched you put the batter on the pan again.

“What makes you want a horse?” “What makes you think about reviews?” And with that you shrugged “just because a few reporters and new york news writers like it doesnt mean that everyone will”

“Why are you being so negative? Goddamn you bring the worst out of everything y/n” he let you go, and you looked at him, giving him the famous eyes.

“The worst? How about you go fuck yourself” you said, aggressively grabbing the spatula to flip the pancake. “Go fuck myself? Whats your problem”

You stayed silent, wondering if you should just go outside and smoke another cigarette or hear him bitch and moan. “Y/n you have a problem every other fucking day. I try to talk to you but you dont. You rather talk shit and let it marinate” he rested his hands on his hips and starred at you while you bit your lip and put the pancake on the plate, grabbing the syrup you put the right amount for him before aggressively walking to the table and slamming it down.

Your heels clanking against the floor as you made your way to the bathroom. Leaving tom by his self as he let out a harsh sigh and rubbed his chin, thinking about what he should do before finally grabbing a fork to eat his breakfast.

“You know. You do the same shit every night- you curse me out then the next hour you wanna suck my dick or something” you starred at yourself in the mirror, biting the side of your cheek before you took of the heels, then coming back out.

“How dare you, thomas” you said harshly, walking back to him and watching him eat the pancakes. “How about you be fucking mature and stop eating”

“No. I dont wanna fight” he shrugged, cutting the pancakes fancy before he placed them in his mouth. “Your such a fucking bitch” your eyes squinted as you leaned forward.

His eyebrows raised and he cleared his throat “a bitch?” He let out a loud laugh, tilting his head before coming back “i think we both know whos the bitch here”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” “Oh you know exactly what im talking about” and with that your jaw basically droppped to the floor “why are you suprised?”

“Have you ever thought-“ you caught your words before repeating them “im the reason why youre gonna get millions, if i was never there for you. If you were never in my life youd still be in that house that you hated so fucking much” you walked closer.

“Trust me baby you were apart of it, but you sure as hell werent the main character” “then please-please tell me who else was doing sex for money?” You asked, and he didn’t answer, instead continued to eat the pancakes.

That made you more aggressive, quickly walking to the table and snatching the plate. “How dare you have to nerve to talk shit about me while you eat what i made you”

“Fuck you y/n” “no fuck you!” He dropped the fork, his face becoming a shade of red. “Im the reason why youre in this fucking house right now, im the reason why you have that fucking ring on your finger” you said, then put your fingers on your ring.

“Dont you fucking dare take off that 50,000 thousand ring y/n” “why shouldnt i?” “Because you love me dont you, darling?” that made you soften up a bit, taking your fingers off the ring as he smiled, telling you to come over. He sat you on his lap, taking the cigarette out of his jacket that youre wearing, grabbing the lighter from his pocket.

You put the cigarette in your mouth and he repeated the same action, lighting it for you. “I love you y/n”

“Mhm” you smiled, taking out the cigarette to press your lips on his and he rubbing your hips, the passion over the tension in the room. “Oh well i thought the movie was shit, i uh- couldnt help but think thats not how it ends” you teased with an old grandma accent and he laughed.

“Yeah i did to, how does man get with a prostitute and marry them” he teased back making you both laugh. “The movie felt so real, it reminded me of my friend miranda” you playfully said with a more younger high pitched voice.

And it went back and forth, laughs leaving both of your lips until he pushed the buttons “man she really was a thot” your eyebrows furrowed as he laughed to his self. “Man he really was desperate for a blow job” you said in your serious voice “man i wonder why he hooked up with such a thot”

“I didnt mean it like that-“ “fuck you” you got off his lap and walked back to the bathroom. “Here you go again y/n!” He shouted, and you turned back around.

“Your so fucking selfish” “we werent even talking about that-“ “no fuck you. All you do is say i-i-i” you yelled, words strong. He stood up agitated “you know what you wanna argue, lets argue”

“You gave up on me” “if i gave up on you why would i marry you” “our love was strong in the beginning and then you just-became you” you looked at him up and down.

“That was because i was in love with your body” he smiled “really? Why didnt you just leave me on the fucking street!” You yelled again, “because I thought you deserved better, maybe you should still be in that fucking old apartment with fucking big ass rats running through it, men twice your age fucking your loose ass whole”

“FUCK YOU” you shouted pointing at him “maybe i shouldve used that sloopy mouth of yours to stay on my dick so you could stay shutting up” “NO FUCK YOU THOMAS” and with that you walked away, into the room this time before tom followed behind you.

“Please leave me the fuck alone before i flip out on you, please just leave” “no”

“You know what. I feel like once you feel like you gave everything they wanted and more you expect them to stay with your sorry ass” “oh im not sorry. And thats not true” he shrugged, standing infront of the door as you sat on the bed. “Im so embarrassed to call you my husband” you shook your head.

“Why shouldnt i be embarrassed to call you my wife?” He shrugged again, leaning against the door looking at you. “If it werent for me you wouldn’t be as happy as you are now” “what makes you think im happy y/n! Im really not” “and you think i am?!” You looked up at him, getting up and walking to him but he continued to back up, until you both were in the open hallway with a table in the middle of it.

“I was never happy in the first place” you said, eyes starting to tear up. “Dont give me fucking alligators-“ “do you know how embarrassing it is for someone to tell you to get your own fucking ride home because you wanna fuck someone else?” You asked, your voice changed as you wiped under your eye, smuding the makeup.

“I had to ask Harrison to give me a ride home. I was scared tom” you sighed, shoulders becoming slump. “What if i ran into somebody i fucked? And they forced me to have sex with them again or else theyd report me to the police?” You asked, breaking down and falling to the floor while tom watched, guilt and shame all ocer his face as he leaned against the table.

“I watched you with my two own eyes make out with someone then the next day you asked me to ride you. But you wanna slut shame me for being broke and needing to survive, that broke me so much. And i did it” you choked “i gave consent everytime, brusied my knees from getting on them for you. Just to make you happy. I let you get full of yourself and now its all about you” you whispered and he came down to you, holding you and pressing kisses on your hair while you broke down more, hiding away from him. “You let me stay out there on Christmas day” a frown met on his lips, thinking back on the day and how you were probably reallty cold, he knew you couldnt stand it.

“And i gave consent to getting married to you, your such a hoe” he couldnt help but chuckle “no seriously your a hoe to feeds for attention” you made eye contact with him, and then you both broke into laughs, sniffels leaving your lips causally but easily ignored knowing you feel slightly better.

And with that you both beard his phone ding, well multiple dings. You told him to answer it, check it. And it was a review, he stood up and helped you up, walking to the livingroom before going over to grab the glasses and remy, pouring it in both cups you both took one.

“Alright, this is from whats her name....janice!” He said, sitting on the couch and you sat between his legs in the floor, sipping the drink. “Overall the movie was great. But there was a few things that werent right in my opinion-“

With that his eyebrows furrowed, you played with the carpet as you waited for him to continue, he leaned forward with his elbow on his knee using his thumb to scroll. “I couldnt understand why the character had all these strange things about her, why the sex scenes were that necessary”

“Ding ding ding”

“Shut up y/n you arent helping- i don’t understand how jhon and candy got along and became freinds if they continue to have intercourse. What the fuck are you talking about? Bla bla bla” he muttered, skimming through it “how candy and ron got along? Shouldnt they be together of they clicked so well?”

A small laugh left your lips “me and Harrison? That wouldnt be so bad”

“How in the world did they get married? Honestly the whole relationship is toxic, but i see it as they were to late to give it up, they were already in a too tight knot. Thats not true we are madly in love with each other” he jerked his head at the phone.

“Ms janice does have a point” you cleared your throat a bit. “Y/n please. Ms janice has no fucking idea what shes talking about jhon and candy are in love with each other and they have problems sometimes....well most but oh well its not to late either one of them couldve got up and go”

“Not if one loved more then the other and it was to late to go, janice is right tom” you crossed your arms.

“Do you wanna-“ “no tom i dont. Just speaking my opinion, coming from a woman your being pretty harsh about it” “well it wasnt really about candy-“

“That doesnt make any sense, shes the main fucking character” you looked at him. “It was more on how jhon viewd candy” “then why was candy always in camera”

“Because...” he shrugged. “Your so dumb” you got up and sat far away from him on the couch, he eyed you in confusion “isnt that fucking movie based off of my life. Like im some type of experiment and you solved made something out of it” you dozed off, swirling the remy in your glass. “Im not feeding into this” he ignored you, until you got up and barked at him, which he looked at you as if you were crazy before doing it back “fucking prick!” You stomped off out of the livingroom and went outside.

“Fuckin-“ he couldnt come up with anything before he let out something random “fuckin mood swinger-“ you finally took the time to take off your makeup and dress, muttering words about him “thats why he stinks, smellin like a gorrila- asshole- man whore” you took a bath too, you didnt feel your best at the moment.

Tom on the other hand just took off his shoes and aggressively stomped on the pillows, throwing a tantrum and jumping on the couch and punching air, kicking it until he accidentally fell.

By time you were dont he thought about it “harsh?” He questioned and walked into the room, finding you reading a book on the bed with the night light on and a cigarette in your mouth.

“Y/n?” “Yes thomas?” You looked up at him “harsh?” He asked and you tilted your head at him “i wasnt being harsh about it” “mhm” you shut your book and set it on te night stand, he undressed until he was in his underwear and climbed into bed with tou.

“How was i being harsh about it” you sighed and rested the cigarette in the ashtray, not putting it out just yet. “You arent really aware of others feelings tommy” you said simply. “What does that mean?” He asked, crossing his arms and sitting up next to you, both backs against the headboard and he looked at you.

“It meas i loved you more then you loved me” his eyebrows furrowed at the statement “that cant be true” “tom it is. You didnt say it but you did. You only wanted me for my body. My love and soul came later and i was to blind to notice. That was my bad”

“Loved?” He questioned. “I think i started to love you less and got on a even level with you, then we built together” you shrugged, crossed a leg over your other one and crossing your arms to. He let out a small laugh, “you know i never understood why jhon died in the end and why candy committed suicide” you said and his heart sunk a bit low.

He cleared his throat before saying something “i know you’re afraid of losing me, y/n. I never told you this but ive read your journal” he nodded his head and you bit your lip, knowing every single letter you wrote and how much it sucked thinking back about those days.

“I know how much you loved me but hated me. But something really grabbed my heart. ‘I want to keep tom, hes like my soulmate. My hearts gotton closer by every minute and moment ive been with him. Even though i feel like ive been burned by some of the things hes done, id forever love him. Losing him would be like losing me entirely’”

“I still don’t understand” you mutter, silently wondering how he knew word by word. “I took advantage of that. Because when i was done reading it i knew it was true, it is true. I couldnt feel it in my heart, thats why i picked you up and took care of you. I noticed you really care for me and ive done nothing but asked you to suck me off, i thought i was making both of us happy by giving you what you needed, or wanted. I became so happy when we got closer, you told me about your new apartment and i was so excited, but it wasn’t because of me entirely. I wanted you to myself. I needed you to myself and you needed it too. So if you lost me you would lose everything, give up on love.” Everything he said was true, it wasnt what you wanted to hear but he needed you to hear the truth.

“So candy gave up on it” he shrugged “she didnt try because there was no need to, she didn’t think anyone else would love her, ‘without tom i have no one else, i know ive done some un speakable thigns with him but i can tell by his eyes and heart that he wants something, he just wont tell me’” he smiled, quoting off of your journal again with a smile on his lips. “Thats why i try every time to keep this relationship strong, go to therapy with you, kiss you and tell you how beautiful you are everyday, cook you breakfast when i know your trying to do something new”

“So youre only doing this because you dont want me to kill myself?” “No y/n. I did it at first but then i opened my eyes and noticed how much i really fucking love you” he uncrossed his arms and reached for your hand. “And i know you love me too, on a even page” you both shared a crooked smile, using your free hand and grabbing the cigarette and putting it to your lips. The time currently 4:30 in the morning as he reached for the cig, your eyebrows furrowed as you let him take it. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Since i had too much of your bullshit” “shut up” you both laughed, slapping his chest as he handed it back, a small laugh leaving his lips. “Im sorry for giving you such a headache” he muttered and you ignored it, putting out the cigarette and turning off the night light, keeping your distance from him you got under the covers and shut your eyes, and he did the same, turning away from you so you are back to back.

A smell of bacon filled your nose when you woke up, a faint smile on your lips as you got up, walking to the kitchen and finding thomas cooking.

“Whats the special occasion?” “I know youre trying something new”

[wouldpollyapprove]

Jezebel

Summary: Thomas Shelby is a man who is used to getting what he wants no matter the price. He’s willing to play any game as he knows he will be the one to come out on top. But when someone knew walks into his life, he is left with nothing but loses as he is forced to come to terms with the fact that he was not the winner at the table.

Based on Jezebel by Herman’s Hermits

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Alcohol

A/N: I did this as apart of @vicmackeybullshxt songfic challenge. It’s taken me forever to actually get to it, but I love the idea I came up with and am very proud of this, you may need to look at the song lyrics to better understand how the two relate. I believe this is one of my longest fics and I’m really happy with how this turned out. Tommy’s a dumb bitch and I think this would definitely happen (if Grace was smarter, it could have). And this takes place between season one and two.

Masterlist

London was always a drag. Full of business, bullets, and boring meetings. Thomas Shelby may have raised through the ranks of class, but the decadent life gifted to the dukes and duchesses, lords and ladies, those with barely an ounce of royal blood in their veins, was one he couldn’t have with his line of work. Though he tried to do things legally, not everyone complied to his demands and often things had to be taken by force, blood on his hands. Tommy didn’t mind if it got the job done as long as he was no longer the gypsy scum people walked all over. 

Finding himself bored, he took his brothers to one of London’s fanciest clubs one night. All the rich in the city often found their way through the crowded club, reserving a table so they could get a grand view of the club's singer: Y/n Y/l/n. In her cherry red dress and golden heels, she was a siren to the crowd. Pulling them in and stealing their souls with the voice that floated threw the air, tickling their ears. 

Like the masses, Tommy found himself pulled in, dazzled by the woman that stood before him on the large stage, a swing band made of golden instruments creating a backdrop behind her. But none of the performers grabbed his attention like she did. Y/e/c eye’s landed on him, crimson red lips turned up in a smile as the pair locked eyes. Heat raised to his cheeks, making them burn and his heart ceased to beat, breath caught in his throat. Batting her eyes at him, Y/n winked before finishing off the last notes of her song. When the note hit people’s ears, she was greeted with a chorus of applause and cheers as she waltzed off the stage. 

“Tom, what ya lookin’ at?” John teased him as he fiddled with his cigar. His brother blinked, the space that had been filled by a goddess moments ago was empty. There was nothing left but the band and a microphone. 

Reaching for his drink, straight whiskey, the man knew nothing better, Tommy sighed as his heart once again beat against his rib cage. He’d known love, known it in many forms. There was the love for his family, one he believed he was born with. The love he held for Greta… the one that made his heart skip a beat. Then there was the intoxicating love that was Grace Burgess. Even the simple thought of her, a whiff of what smelled like her perfume, had him spiralling all day off a momentary high. But none of those loves, not a single one, compared to how he felt when his eyes locked with Y/n Y/l/n’s. 

The world around him was lost, devoured by a dense fog that had surrounded him. The gangster didn’t care about the next act, the entertainment he knew wouldn’t compare to what he’d witnessed moments before. “I'll be back,” he said, discarding his glass and standing from the table. 

He had to find the siren. 

Y/n sat in front of her vanity mirror, brushing her curls. They bounced back into form with each stroke, glistening under the heavy lights. Staring at her own reflection, she ran her tongue across the top of her lips. Growing up a shy and tucked away child, never had she thought she would spend her nights stealing men's hearts, but there she was. It was a thrill, really, power she never believed she’d possessed in her life. The woman that stared back at her was mighty and tall, what she imagined a modern amazonian would be depicted as. 

A sigh parted her lips as she rested her elbows on the counter, turning her brush over in her hands. Y/n hadn’t been in London long, but it’d been long enough for her. Not one of gypsy blood, the fact didn’t stop her from dreaming of wide open fields, the heart of a song bird in her soul. She dreamed of traveling in the dead of night or the heat of the day. The young woman didn’t care where she was to go, anything was better than staying put in a forgein city. 

But there was a job to be done, one Y/n thought would have been done sooner.

Moving on from her hair, she opened her makeup bag and pulled out her favorite lipstick and reapplied it for her next act. Glancing at the mirror, Y/n smiled at the man who was leaning in the doorway. She’d caught his eye before fleeing from the stage, thought he was a looker if she were to be honest, but never thought he’d think the same of her. At least, she thought that was the reason he’d abandon his drink to visit her. “Enjoy what you see,” she smiled, meeting his eyes in the mirror as she closed the tube of lipstick.

The man nodded and pushed himself into the room. “I believe everyone does when their eyes land on you,” he shrugged as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his dress suit. 

Y/n hummed, turning to face him and laid her arms on the back of her seat. Getting a full view of the dark haired man, Y/n could tell he had deep pockets. Now, she was no tailor, but she knew an expensive suit when she saw one and that’s what the stranger wore. With his sharp features, she could look at him all day, get lost in his ocean eyes and run her hands through his hair until her fingers hurt, but then she wondered… what did he look like without his posh suit? “May I ask what you’re doing here…”

“Tommy,” he indulged, striking a match, a thin trail of smoke traveling towards the ceiling. 

The singer nodded with a satisfied smile, “Tommy?”

There was silence as Tommy lit his cigarette and shook the flame off the match. Once he took a drag, he peered down at her. “I would like to buy you a drink. If that’s alright with you, that is,” he added and waited for her response. 

She wanted to scuff, she really did. From how he held himself and the boldness of his words, it wasn’t hard to see he came from a world where no one told him no. Y/n wanted to be the first to deny him what he could almost have, but… the words wouldn’t leave her tongue. Thinking of the world he would surround her in, she couldn’t pass the stranger’s offer up. Not only was he lovely on the eyes, making her yearn for his touch, but he would do wonders for her wallet and that mattered more than anything. 

“My last session in ten minutes,” she informed him, biting her lip. “How ‘bout after?” The man seemed content with her suggestion, nodding, but Y/n wasn’t sure if it was more for her or himself. 

Leaning forward, Tommy placed his hands near her’s, their faces inches apart. “I’ll be waiting,” he whispered with a smirk.

Y/n barely suppressed her gasp as he turned on his heels and vanished from sight. Cheeks hot, she fanned herself with one hand as a laugh escaped her lips. 

It would be nothing short of an entertaining night, that she knew.

Polly groaned as her nephew came into view, the perfect nightmare dressed as daydream by his side in a golden dress that clung to the woman’s hips. Tommy had been infatuated by Y/n, the singer who never strayed from his mind, but he was that way with all women. Any woman intrigued him so long as she wasn’t like any that had passed him on the streets of Small Heath when he was a child. A man desperate for the finer, more exotic, things of life, Mr. Thomas Shelby wanted no village or dirt caked woman. He wanted what others couldn’t have and that was what Y/n was.

Of course, Tommy loved her. 

It was evident in the glint in his eyes when she walked in the room and how his breath caught in the back of his throat, like it had when he’d first laid eyes on her, when he thought of her. But not all love is good, that Polly had learned the hard way. Just as her nephew would have to.

“This is lovely,” Y/n mused, hanging onto her boyfriend’s arm. She’d been to only a handful of gala’s, but nothing could compare to the one the mayor of Birmingham had invited the Shelby family to. Though she wasn’t their kin and their last name wasn’t her own, Tommy insisted she accompany him. It would be dull without her, that’s what he’d said when he asked a few weeks earlier. 

Tommy hummed, eyes on her, watching how the lights danced on her skin, making it glow. Since the moment he’d laid eyes on her, it had become hard for him to rip them away. No matter what else deserved his attention, Y/n deserved it more. It drove his family mad yet he didn’t care. 

“Tommy, are you even listening?” she asked, looking up at him with a pout.

“I’m always listening to you, love,” he told her with a smile, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “What were you saying?”

She huffed, feeling the eyes of his aunt on her from across the room. “You’re aunt doesn’t like me, I don’t think it would go over well if I went to the family meeting with you,” she confessed, spotting a handsome man from across the room who was eyeing her up.

The words that jumped off her tongue were all to save face, Y/n didn’t care whose feathers were ruffled with her appearance at the next Shelby family meeting. She’d wiggled her way into Tommy’s heart and she would make her place in his life nice and comfortable. That, of course, had become a challenge once his aunt stepped into her way, putting her foot down. No matter the hold she held over her boyfriend, her candy sweet words weren’t always convincing when Polly was in the room. The two didn’t necessarily butt heads, but they both detested each other, leaving a foal taste in each other’s mouths once either left the room.

When Y/n convinced Tommy to let her work for him, he’d been on board, willing to move Lizzie to the betting shop so she could be his secretary. Internally, Polly was up in arms about the idea, but she didn’t dare voice her true opinion, remember the defensive man that was her nephew. Instead, she convinced her nephew that if he truly loved Y/n, then he would want her out of harm's way. Her wellbeing was more important to him than anything, so Y/n ended up spending her days in his lavish house, a beautiful sum of money left to her in place of a paycheck. There was little to complain about, she was still bleeding him dry, but it simply put a dent in her plans, no matter how small it was.

Guiding her through the crowd, the man came to a stop at the bar, ordering himself whiskey and her wine. “Don’t worry about Polly. Or any of them for that matter,” he assured her, taking his drink before placing a glass of wine in her hands. “Soon you’ll be a Shelby like the rest of us; My wife and a part of this family. They’ll have to accept you.”

Tommy didn’t catch the groan that escaped her lips at the thought of marrying him. There was nothing else that could make her last meal reappear better than the thought of being his wife. That title would be chains around her ankles, keeping her in the walls of his home. No matter how much he claimed to love her, Y/n didn’t feel the same and couldn’t stand the thought of being weighed down by him. 

“When do you leave for London?” she inquired, wishing her glass was full of something stronger as she changed the subject and that she was hanging onto the arm of the man she had seen earlier.

Tilting his head, he sighed, “Tomorrow. I wish you could come with me.” Y/n leaned against him, resting her head against his arm.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Two days.”

From across the room, Polly caught the devilish grin that spread across Y/n’s face. She didn’t like the woman, viewing her as a snake, cut from an almost identical cloth as Grace Burgess, but she had to hand it to her. Whatever Y/n was planning, she was doing a wonderful job of getting the stones rolling. The bitch had Tommy wrapped around her finger. Being one of the most powerful men in the United Kingdom, second to the king, nothing would be out of her reach for long with the tight hold she had on him. But Polly Gray would be waiting, like a wolf in the night, she would be waiting for Y/n to take a risk and end up with a broken neck when she was caught, sharp teeth clamped around her neck.

The day Tommy was to leave, Y/n made sure to have her day filled, no room for error or abrupto events. There were to be no interruptions and no suspicion. Deciding to spend the morning shopping, Tommy dropped her off before he set off to London, giving her a kiss that wasn’t returned before she stepped out of the car. Y/n waved as he drove away, wearing the diamonds he’d given her that morning. A little going away present, how sweet.

Turning on her heels, cold daggers replaced her warm orbs, and she began to browse the shops, spending all the money she could, wishing to leave her purse empty. It would be full once again come nightfall. Y/n picked out a couple evening dresses, one red and the other green. To match, she bought a few heels, it couldn’t hurt to have options, now could it? Moving on to a jewelry store, she threw Tommy’s hard earned cash on the desk and demanded to see the most expensive item they had.

A diamond necklace with an emerald center sat on her neck, a matching pair of earrings in her ears, as she walked down the streets of Birmingham to the filth of Small Heath. Now, she had grown up in a similar place, but working her way up in the world, Y/n couldn’t understand how people could sit in such filth, growing older without trying to better themselves. Get out of the hell they had been born into. The sun was on the brink of setting and from what had been divulged to her the night before, everyone would be at the Garrison celebrating a big transaction. 

Things couldn’t be more perfect.

Just a shadow in the night, Y/n unlocked the betting shop door with the key Tommy had given her once she’d moved into Arrow house. Even if she wasn’t to work there, he wanted her to be a part of every aspect of his life, a mistake on his part, and that meant letting her into places that she didn’t belong. The lock clicked and she turned the nobb, the door creaking as it opened. She was hit by the pungent smell of cigarettes and whiskey as she stepped into the building, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. For the first time, she was glad Polly didn’t trust her enough to want to work for the family, who would want to smell like a drunk without having touch a drop of liquor? 

Setting her bags by the door, Y/n navigated the small building, trying to picture the verbal map Tommy had given her once of the building’s layout. With his words as a guide, she passed desks and walked through doorways until she stood in front of the thick door of the company safe. Never had she been told what it contained, but she wasn’t a child and needed no explanation, her wildest dreams were behind that door.

Before her was a vault that held her freedom. The ticket to a world she missed, the people she longed for, and the person she wanted to kiss and never let go of. It was everything that would set her for life, let her live like a queen until the day she died.

With a grin on her lips, she dug threw her pocket for a tiny piece of paper, holding it in her hands, she unfolded it to reveal a set of numbers. Carefully, Y/n turned the dial on the door until she heard the heavenly sound of the gears click into place and she was able to pull it open, revealing stacks of bills and cloth bags with the same items. Rubbing her hands together, her eyes darted around the vault, what was she to grab first?

Shrugging, Y/n waltzed into the small room and started pulling the bags off the shelve and threw them onto the cold wood floor. “What a fucking fool,” she laughed, it was foolish of Tommy to give her the vault code. The fact he never raised a brow when she asked, never questions her motives or reasons. His lover didn’t work for him, there was no need for her to possess the numbers, but Thomas Shelby was a fool. And in a fool’s fashion, he jotted the numbers down for her, never questioning the destruction that could be caused with such information as he handed it to her. 

Polly tapped her foot violently against the floor, hands on her hips with nostrils flared. She’d been the first in the office that morning, putting on a pot of tea and getting everything in order before the rest of the office arrived. Pulling out a few files, the woman placed them on her desk before going to fetch the log book. With that tucked by her side, she went to open the vault, smiling when a click hit her ears and she was able to pull it open. The smile was whipped off her face as if a train had passed by at the sight in front of her.

“What are we going to do, Tommy?” his aunt asked him as he racked a hand through his hair, standing in front of the empty vault. 

The man, supposed to be the leader of the family, was at a loss for words. For once in his life, Thomas Shelby didn’t know what to do. He’d arrived back at Arrow house happy to see his girlfriend, hoping to surprise her with an expensive ring he had tucked in his back pocket, ready to make her an official Shelby. But every nook and cranny was searched and she was nowhere to be found. Francis said Y/n had plans the evening before and probably stayed with Ada. Ringing his sister, Ada was home alone with Karl, having received no visitors the night before. And then… Polly called and he was forced to deal with the mess in front of him.

“Well, Thomas, are you going to say something or stand there like a frightened child?” the woman threw her arms up, wondering what mess his cock would get the family into next.

“It wasn’t her… it couldn’t have been,” he muttered, noting that over two hundred thousand pounds were missing from the shelves. Sucking in a breath, Tommy knew who had taken the money, whether he wanted to admit it or not, Y/n was the only one unaccounted for and he’d made the mistake of giving her the vault code.

Moving from her place behind him, Polly walked to the nearest desk and picked up the phone. “Who could it have been, the fucking King of England? Don’t be naive, boy,” she spat and picked up the ear piece. Placing it against her ear, she announced, “I’m phoning the police, they’ll be more help then a fool in love.”

The words stung Tommy’s ears, being nothing but the cold hard truth. He’d ignored any harm Grace had done in the short time they were together. He wanted to believe that love meant more than anything and that no harm would come to him with that mindset, he was mistaken. There would always be harm whether he was a gangster or a lovesick boy untouched by war. Willingly, Tommy had let Y/n in, given her the whole fuckign world, his heart with it, and let her break everything around him until it all came crashing down. He was a fool, plain and simple, what he would always be when it came to love.

Unbeknownst to the Shelbys, Y/n would never be found, neither would the money. Hopping on a train to France that night, suitcases full of money by her side, she set off for Greece, arriving four days later.

Stretching her arms out, she made herself a cup of tea and made her way through the quaint house she had settled in. Standing in the doorway to the balcony, a smile spread her lips when she caught sight of the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

“Happy to be home?” Cora asked her with a smile as she continued her latest sewing project, the wind whipping her hair around.

Coming to sit beside her, Y/n rested her head on the woman’s shoulder. “I’m happy wherever you are, love.”

Cora hummed, missing the touch of her lover. She didn’t want Y/n to leave, ever, no matter how long it had to be for. But people paid her to do their dirty work and the couple needed money. If she had to watch her girlfriend leave for a few months for them to get a month or two together then she would watch her go.

Y/n pushed a strand of hair behind Cora’s ear, peppering kisses along her exposed shoulder and neck. “You know, we could take a trip to Rome, like you’ve always wanted, with the money we have,” she suggested, the sea gently hitting the rocks below. 

Seagulls flew above, creating a beautiful landscape before them. How the two had found themselves on the coast of the Mediterranean was a mystery to them. But they had made the place home and Y/n didn’t know anywhere she’d rather be. It wasn’t by any means like the home of Thomas Shelby, only one story with a view of the sea, but it was worth more than his. 

“I would love that,” the woman smiled. “Imagine all we’ll see, it will be wonderful.”

Y/n sighed in content, happy to be home, away from the misery of Birmingham and the Shelby family

*~~*~~*

Let me know if you would like to be added to any of the tag lists (please tell me which one) and feedback is always appreciated.

Permanent: @amirahiddleston @haphazardhufflepuff @woahitslucyylu @mzcrazy2 @lovemissyhoneybee @multi-fandom-iimagines @tarafaithe @jenepleurepasbaby @fernweh-fangirl @the-anxious-youth @theshelbyclan @wtfdanness @chloeforde @futuristicslimemongerbanana @auds24 @lucillethings @nemesis729 @sirkekselord @princesscornbread @i-volunteer-for-finnick @iwillboilyourteeth @anyasthoughts @ellieemais @sweatydragoncloudknight 

Peaky Blinders: @simonsbluee @queenofmankind @astheworlddturns @banana-tree-freddiemercury

Thomas Shelby: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @imnotuglyimjustpredebut @creativemayhems

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Diego Hargreeves x reader - A Small Inconvenience

Masterlist

Walking down the sidewalk with a warm bag of Chinese takeout securely in your arm, the scent of it wafting into your nostrils putting a smile upon your face as you trail your eyes down the street. You’d been tasked with hunting down the best food in town for yourself and Diego this evening, who’s patiently awaiting your arrival in your apartment. Well in all honesty, you’d actually lost to Rock Paper Scissors and were promptly sent out into the cool autumn air as your man cheered for his victory before he quickly made up for it with a kiss.

Just enough for you to brave the city streets, and the grumbling in your stomach.

So with a pinch to his cute firm bum did you say your goodbyes and walk out the door in search of something delicious for the evening. You’re hunt had taken you down a couple blocks and past some drug deal near an alleyway entrance before your eyes found the best Chinese restaurant in town.

It practically glows golden and red, a big beautiful dragon smiling at its front door welcoming everyone who enters. Wasting no more time, you make your way through the doors and up to the counter. You know the usual order by heart and the workers there are quick and efficient as they quickly bring your meal to the front counter.

You pay and happily walk out the glass doors with a delicious bag of yours and Diego’s favorite. You’re able to make it halfway to your apartment before you spot Klaus chatting up the hotdog guy from across the street. The man looks rather bored of Klaus as he attempts to make a hotdog for a customer. Shaking your head you quickly duck under a blue mailbox to avoid catching his eye.

No sooner do you hide does the tell tale sounds of Klaus’ shuffling reach your ears as he jogs across the street to find you. You let out a sigh as you stand up from your once crouched position, coming face to face with a beaming Klaus.

“So what brings you round these parts Y/N?” Wonders your childhood friend as he leans casually against the mailbox.

Handing him a half smile you clutch your takeout closer, “Oh you know, food n’such.”

He raises a brow, his green irises glancing down to your precious takeout, “And uh...where are you going with that delicious bag of goodies?” You purse your lips together, knowing exactly what Klaus is after.

“Not tonight Klaus.” You deadpan, trying to assert that you’re not interested in having a movie night with two Hargreeves.

He taps his fingers against the hood of the mailbox, “Ah come on Y/N/N, my tum tums a grumbling and.” He shakes your shoulders, “we could have such a fun time! It’d be like a party, we could lock Diego out of the gym and drink to our hearts content as we make fun of shitty romcoms....come on Y/N it’d be so fun.” Whines Klaus as you gently remove his arms away from your shoulders with your free hand.

Taking a short step back you squint your eyes at him suspiciously, “You’re not getting my teriyaki chicken strips.” His face falls as you firmly state your business, “Don’t even try to take it out of my hands you know you can’t outrun me.”

Klaus pouts, “Yeah, well you’re being a real butt right now. And to think you were my favorite, despicable.” He says with a disapproving shake of his head.

You simply chuckle at his childishness, “Maybe next time Klaus.” 

You smile as a second later does he lunge at you, an unknown force slapping your bag of Chinese food right out of your grasp as Klaus quickly grabs it, another invisible force pushing the back of your knees forward. With a surprised yelp do you quickly fall to the concrete, an annoyed huff of air leaving your lips as you watch Klaus book it past you as he races down the street cackling like a maniac.

“Fuck you Ben.” You whisper with a roll of your eyes, a smile breaking out upon your face as your nerves prick in excitement for your new hunt.

 Klaus.

 And your Chinese takeout of course.

But before you’re able to even take a step does your phone buzz in your hand, fumbling to take it out of your coat pocket you look down to see it’s Diego calling. Pressing on accept you bring the device to your ear, “What’s up babe.”

“You’ve been gone a while, just making sure you’re okay.” Worries your sweet Diego, an adoring smile finds its way onto your lips.

“I’m fine. I’ve just run into a little problem is all.”

“What’s wrong Y/N.” He asks, his voice laced with concern.

You let out a small laugh, “Nothing terrible really, D. I was just robbed but I’ll be fine seriously don’t even worry oka...”

“What?! Where’d they go, I’ll stop them.”

“Diego take a breath.”

“Who was it? Anyone I know? What’d they look like?”

“It was Klaus.” You deadpan, the other line goes silent for a few long seconds as you wait for him to respond.

“Klaus. Is he far?”

Looking down the street you catch the last glimpse of Klaus’ pink scarf as it flows wildly in the wind, “Not really, okay uh....I’m gonna go get our food. I’ll see ya at home. Love you D.”

“Alright I’ll be here, love you.” Replies Diego, confusion clear in his voice as he leaves you to save the day.

Stuffing your phone back into your pocket you let out a quiet “fuck” as someone gives you an odd look, flashing them a nervous smile you nod before booking it down the sidewalk like a mad woman on the run. Wind pushing your hair back as your feet pound against the sidewalk with each rushed step. You can practically smell your delicious takeout as it wafts into your nostrils while you’re on the chase.

In no time do you finally turn a corner to catch a pink flash of cloth as it hides behind an alleyway corner, huffing in frustration do you race forward and grasp the bricks as your feet slide into the opposite wall. When you look down the opening do you find the back of Klaus as he desperately races over the cracked cement. Rolling your eyes do you look down to fortunately find a discarded shoe next to the trash.

Perfect.

With a smile upon your face do you pick up the old smelly thing before chucking it in the direction of his messy brown hair as he cackles in the wind. You watch in delight as the worn out leather smacks him right in the back of his head with a thwack. Instantly does he fall to the ground as you race to save your food in a hasty blur. Luckily catching it before a mess is had on the dirty concrete, you turn to look down at Klaus who’s laying on his back in defeat.

He sticks his tongue out at you, “You have no right being that fast Y\N!” Grumbles Klaus as you chuckle.

“And you have no right to let Ben trip me.” You add with a raise of your brow.

Klaus simply rolls his green eyes, “He dared me to take it! And I’m not a bitch so of course I accepted.”

Reaching your hand out for him to take, he takes your offer and just like that do you pull him from the ground, “I haven’t seen you run that fast since you robbed that convenience store a month ago.”

“You didn’t even try and help me escape.” Remarks Klaus as he stands next to you, a hand upon his slender hip.

“Oh right, but if I remember correctly you told me and I quote Y/N watch me rob this store and flip off the cops inside as I make off with the donuts. Then you told me not to help you cause you’re not a little bitch. So I didn’t.”

Pursing his lips together, he nods, “Yeah well. Can I have a twenty?”

You scoff, “Drugs or food?”

“Food. Obviously.” Answers Klaus more quickly then you’d believe.

Nodding you fumble around in your pocket, “Fine. But if you steal my delicious sweet teriyaki chicken I will break your arm next time.” He smiles as you hand him the twenty.

“Noted.” Winks Klaus as he pockets the single bill excitedly. You say your goodbyes before turning around and making your way to the gym where Diego patiently awaits you and your food.

The walk there takes about three minutes, giving you time to settle your once pounding heartbeat from Klaus’ little adventure through the streets of the city. At long last does your eyes find the glass doors of the closed boxing gym, when you wander closer does Diego finally spot you. A smile comes to his face as he quickly opens up the door, his face turning to amusement as he takes in your disheveled appearance.

Walking through the door do you mock glare at him as he chuckles, “I’d ask, but I’m not sure if I want to know.” He says as you walk quickly to your shared apartment.

“Your brother just gave me a run for my money, literally and figuratively.” You muse before opening up your apartment door, swinging it back with a whoosh. He laughs as he shuts the door behind him, jogging down the small row of stairs as you sit down with a huff.

Diego smirks as he sets himself across from you, “Well I hope our food is still warm. Jeesh Y/N I give you one job and then you get robbed, thought you were a superhero or something.” Teases your man as he takes out his box of the usual favorite, opening it up with ease.

“You’re fucking hilarious.” You quip, no venom in your words as you fight back a smile.

He slurps up a noodle, “It’s warm so you’re off the hook.”

Swallowing your chicken you raise an eyebrow at him, “Oh really now. And what would you have done to me if it wasn’t and Klaus took all the goods, huh?” You challenge with a smirk before biting into another crunchy piece of chicken.

He simply shrugs, “Guess you wouldn’t get any of these goods.” Muses Diego as he implies something very intriguing yet not what you’d like to think about while stuffing yourself of chicken and steamed vegetables.

Slowly blinking at him you point a chopstick in his direction, “Don’t make it weird.” He breaks out into a huge smile as a laugh escapes him.

“You started it.” Replies Diego with a wink.

Leaning in closer to him you smirk, “And I’ll end it if you don’t shut that pretty mouth of yours.” Your add with a dark glare, he instantly shuts up at your words, an excited thrill coursing through him as you seductively sit back and chew your food.

[amoosewritesfanfic]

[+18]

[Dabi x Fem!Reader]

[Villain x Pro Hero]

[Warnings: drunk sex, aphrodisiac, drugging, mentions of alcohol, rough sex, lipstick marks, runny make up, kinda dub con, swearing, stalker kinda vibes]

[I have no clue what this is, but here ya go, while I'm still busy writing that other thing.]

[I own none of the characters or art! All credit goes to original creators. Edit and story is mine tho]

-

Another bust, Y/N had been working on this case for the past two months, a string of burnt corpses popping up all over the city, it was hard to I.D the bodies but they were apparently some low rate criminals that seemed to piss off the wrong person, this man was named Dabi, his distinctive feature was the burnt skin covering his body, but there was not much else about him that she could find.

But Dabi definitely found out about her, chatter could be heard from a few low rate villains who was starting to chase after him. When he saw Y/N for the first it it was like hos heart was set a flame not because he was in love, no... far from it. He thought;

'This is the one that I'm going to absolutely ruin~'

-

Usually Y/N would have said no, as usual, to any drinks or a night out but her boss happened to tell her to take a break and with a direct order like that she couldn't say no. Her friends were immediately excited to see her rock up in that tight black dress she loved to wear when she went out, the way it hugged her curves and showed off just the right amount of cleavage was pleasing to anyone that looked, of course she wasn't wearing a bra and anyone who would feel her up that night would know.

The black heels making her slightly taller than usual, her hair loose, framing her face. Her lips painted with a pretty black lipstick and somewhat of a smokey eye done giving her that real seductive look.

Y/N had no clue that the man she had been hunting was in this bar and he knew that she was hunting him, of course everyone was, but he had grown infatuated with her specifically. The way her body moved with her friends or the way she laughed with those flushed cheeks had the man eager to see... to feel more of her. He knew when she were about five shots in and a glass of gin and tonic she would be wonky and her perception of who or what was around wouldn't matter.

So that's when he made his move, after all she stood alone ordering what looked to be like another gin, when she wasn't looking a distraction which came from one of her friends he managed to slip something into her drink. A harmless little drug.

Five minutes in she was back on the dance floor having chugged down her gin and almost bouncing off the walls from how good her body felt. Dabi wasted no time in moving in, his eyes watching her now, Y/N noticed him now, not taking in his appearance under the low colourful lights. He moved in closer when he saw that cute little finger beckoning him to come closer to her and he did, he got in close, pulling her back up against him.

She didn't mind, no in fact she grinded her ass against him, her fingers tangled up in his hair as his hands trailed along her curves, giving a few gropes to her ass and breasts. He could hear those cute little moans fall from those pretty little lips grinding her ass more against his slowly hardening cock. He tilted her head slightly, capturing her lips against his, a pierced tongue slyly running along her bottom lip making her part her lips allowing him access to her mouth.

She couldn't help but moan in delight from the way the metal felt against her tongue. Soon he broke away from the kiss, his fingers dancing along the hem of her dress, a deep voice rumbling against her ear making her giddy. "You wanna fuck doll?~" the way his tongue tan over the edge of her ear made her almost moan again but she gave him an eager nod, her body felt far too hot to say no and honestly she felt like this man would give her the pleasure she desired.

With a small smirk against her skin he took her hand and led her to a back room, away from prying eyes. Seems as though her colleagues hadn't even noticed. When the door shut his hand immediately moved around her throat slamming her against the, a small smirk on his lips. He couldn't believe it, the hero that had been chasing him for the past two months was practically moaning for him to fuck her. "Look at you... you look so slutty, like a bitch in heat~" he teased as his free hand pulled down her dress, exposing those pretty breasts, a thumb trailing over the hardening nub.

His hand then dipped between her juicy thighs, running over her, panties, no... a g-string. "What a slutty bitch... and you're so fucking wet too~" he breathed against her ear, earning a quiet moan from her. "D-don't tease me...~" she whimpered as her hand kept his hand between her thighs, he didn't hesitate for a second as he dipped his finger between those slick folds earning an almost desperate moan from her. "Do you want me to fuck you doll face?~" his lips were still pressed against her ear, his hand tightening slightly around her throat, the other wiggling inside her sloppy wet hole.

"Gods yes... please... please fuck me~" she moaned as her fingers dug into his coat. His lips captured hers again before he shifted them again, he pulled his hands away from her body for a moment before he bent her over a nearby table, the room that they happened to be inside seemed to be an office of sorts? Who honestly knew, all that Y/N was thinking about was being plowed until she couldn't think straight.

'If this is how she acts on a simple aphrodisiac what will she act like on a stronger drug...?' He thought as his hand landed a firm smack on her exposed rear making the female yelp her hands gripping the table. "I hope you're on birth control dollface~" he hummed burning off the g-string. "There's no need for this~" he added on, the sound of his zipper being pulled down and that light smack against her ass had the hero whimper almost.

She didn't even need to look back to tell he was rather well endowed, but what really surprised her was the slight bumps she could feel, his hand wrapped around his shaft slowly gliding his tip to rub against, the groan that fell from his lips was drowned out by the moan that fell from her lips as he slid himself inside her, stretching out her walls making her moan in delight, the feeling of his piercings rubbing against her walls made her legs tense up and her back arch slightly.

"F-fuck~♡ you're so big~"

"And this pretty little pussy of yours is taking my cock so well~" he grunted, his hands gripping her hips before thrusting deep inside her, his tip pressing against her cervix making her moan. "Shit...~♡ you're gonna make me cum already~" she whined out. "You better hold it~" he grunted, his hand moving from her hip to her hair, gripping it as his hips started moving, the pace wasn't slow at all, it was rough, the sound of skin smacking against skin filled the room along with grunts and moans from the two of them.

"Oh gods... you're gonna make me cum... your cock is touching all the right spots~ I can't hold it" she whined, he leaned in keeping her head tilted so he could attack her neck as his hips didn't stop, even as her walls slowly tighten around his cock.

"Oi oi oi, you better not cum doll, I'll stop if you cum~" he breathed against her ear as his hand now wrapped around her throat making her gasp out, legs were shaking. "P-please let me cum... I want to cum..~" she managed to breath out, she was so close, she could feel herself slowly reaching that high as much as she tried to stop herself, but oh... she definitely couldn't hold back anymore, her love juices dripped all over his pierced cock, making him grunt slightly from how tight she had gotten, but his thrusting hadn't stopped no, in fact he picked up the pace.

His hips snapping back and forth into her sensitive cunt with his hand tightening around her throat. "W-wait... you're being to rough, if you... ah!"

SMACK!

A bright red hand print was left on her ass, the skin swelling up slightly from the harsh impact of his hand, tears building up from the harsh spank.

"Little sluts who don't listen shouldn't be treated nice, you can't even listen to simple orders I'll have to teach ya a lesson doll face~" he cooed into her ear, his hand easing over the swelling skin, making her wince slightly, his tongue running over the shell of her ear. His hips were pressed up against hers now, not moving at all.

"Now that you've cum don't you think you should make me cum? Hmm~? I think you should let me fuck that pretty little throat until its bruised..." he whispered into her ear, her hips grinded slightly back getting some form of friction from his cock still buried deep inside her. "Huh? Or should I fuck you here...?" His hand trailed over her ass spreading her asscheek slightly before slowly dipping his thumb into her puckered hole squeezing her throat a little tighter making her gasp out.

For him however it almost felt like her pussy walls tightened around his cock. "Oh? Well would ya' look at that doll face~ I just squeezed your throat slightly and your pussy tightened up so much~ or was it my thumb rubbing against your pretty little ass hole?~" he hummed it felt like his thumb heated up against your puckered hole making you gasp out, your back arching. "Are you a horny little masochist? Do you like being choked out and fucked? Nod if that's what ya' like~" he teased and she nodded almost eagerly, her make up seemed to be running down her face from the tears that spilt, but she didn't care...

"What a stupid little masochist..." he murmured.

His hand loosened around her throat before he pulled his cock out of her pussy, it looked like it was twitching but his focus was now on that puckered hole. Dabi let his cock sit between those sweet asscheeks, lubing it up with her pussy juices before he shifted his shaft, pressing the tip against the puckered hole. "W-wait... not so-..." he didn't slid himself into her tight little ass, inside he pulled her up and shoved her onto her knees.

"I'm gonna save it for when you really piss me off~" he hummed as his hand stroked her cheek softly making her look up at him.

"But that doesn't mean that you're let off the hook dollface~ I'm gonna mess up that pretty black lipstick all over that pretty little face of yours~" he hummed trailing a thumb over her bottom lip, forcing her to part her lips, his eyes watching her expression as she ran her tongue over his tip which earned a quiet grunt from him. "Open that pretty mouth doll..." he mumbled as his hand trailed through her hair before giving it a firm grip, her lips immediately parted for him, he wasted no time in sliding himself into her mouth, groaning at how her tongue immediately rubbed against his shaft as it slid into her mouth, he stopped for a moment to let her get use to his size, but slowly pulled back, grinning slightly at the sight of her lipstick already staining his cock, but

"Don't forget to breath."

Was all he said as his hips snapped forward, burying his cock down her throat, making her gag slightly, his grip being firm on her hair made it easier for him to start thrusting, heavy balls smacking against her chin, faint lipstick marks covering his balls and cocks when he pulled back. Cerulean hues watching her eyes tear up and the drool starting to drip from the corners of her lips down onto her breasts or on her thighs. He felt the way her throat tightened and the way her nails dug into the back of his thighs, it made him pick up the pace.

His thrusts were slowly becoming a bit more erratic, with a few more harsh thrusts she could feel him throbbing in her throat, with one last harsh thrust, he buried his cock deep down her throat, his that warm salty essence spurting down her pretty little throat.

Her hands were tapping at his thighs as an indication that she couldn't breath, she almost passed out but he pulled back, his cock falling from her lips as he examined her face.

Mascara running down her skin and her lipstick smudged with strings of salvia connecting from her lips to his cock.

He loosened his hold on her hair, threading his fingers through the slightly matted locks. "I can't wait to use you more... do you want that doll face?" His words were soft as his fingers played with her hair as some means of 'aftercare'

She gave a slow nod, she looked like a dog waiting for it's master to give an order...

And gods it would be so wrong for the villain not to use that to his hearts content.

"Good, cause this is far from over my cute little hero~" he taunted and Y/N let the words fly over her head, it wouldn't be until the next morning that she would find her hands cuffed to the bed, her pussy feeling oddly full and her legs feeling sore along with her throat, yet she felt she was on a soft bed...

How smashed did she get...?

"Oh, you're awake~" that slightly familiar voice teased out, she looked up towards the source, there was standing with his hands shoved into his pockets a smug smile on his face, the scars on his face confused her for a moment before everything clicked in place.

"Dabi..." she whispered.

"Oh you figured it out hero~ how adorable~" he cooed clapping his hands together. "I can't let you go." He said as he moved closer, "shame you can't use your quirk would of been more fun if you fought, but it was more entertaining to watch a hero fall in a pool of ecstasy last night. It was fuckin' cute the way you be-..." "Shut up." She blushed, looking away from him, but feeling of him gripping her face made her whimper and look up at him.

"I think it would be more fun to fuck you while you're sober, you'll break so easy because of how weak you are~" He hummed a thumb trailing over her bottom lip.

"Oh I can't wait to fuck you into submission~" the way he had said it had her body throb in... delight? No... it had to be disgust delight

-

-

[I still have no clue what this was but I hope you enjoyed it :3]

[anotherfacelessauthor]

Scenes from October 31st through November 2nd, 1981

James was watching television—some old movie he wasn’t really following—when it happened. He had just been playing with his son, making multicolored smoke bubbles appear out of his wand and chuckling as Harry delightedly tried to catch them, when his wife had announced that it was well past both of their bedtimes. He supposed she was right as he yawned and stretched, discarding his wand on the sofa beside him.

Lily was upstairs in the laundry room, just beginning to fold a few of Harry’s footies after putting him down in his crib. The house in Godric's Hollow was small enough that she could still hear the dialogue of the movie if she listened intently enough. Lily smiled as she recognised it: Meet Me in St. Louis. It had been her mother’s favorite. She fondly recalled watching the film together, curling up under one big blanket and munching on popcorn, singing along to all the songs.

Something caught her eye outside, moments before it happened. A small group of young children parading down the street in pumpkin costumes, their pillow cases dragging on the street behind them, closely followed by two couples. The parents were chatting, saying something Lily couldn’t hear through the glass and layers of protection spells. The children were dancing about, throwing empty candy wrappers on the pavement with reckless abandon. Lily allowed herself to daydream about what Harry’s first Halloween costume would be, once she and James were finally allowed out of the house again. She imagined her son, laughing and feasting with the other children, adorable face sticking through a silly penguin suit.

One of the mothers, a tall, thin woman in a pointy black witches hat, bent down to pick up the littered wrappers, and then it happened.

The pram, still kept hopefully by the door, was tossed aside as Voldemort entered the Potter’s safehouse with a thunderous clatter.

“Lily!” James cried, voice straining in the effort to make sure she heard him. In an instant she knew something was wrong. “Take Harry and go! It’s him!” Her heart rate accelerated, pounding in her ears as she immediately dropped the laundry, springing to action. “Go! Run! I’ll hold him off!”

His words seemed to echo throughout the small house. Every nerve in her body set aflame with adrenaline as Lily rushed into the nursery. Then she heard the terrible curse, the words confirming her worst nightmares, “ Avada Kedavra! ”

The faint thud that followed was barely registered by Lily’s senses as a blood-curdling shriek escaped her throat, pouring her soul out into the cold, still night. It only then occurred to her that she was wandless. Trapped, stuck on the top floor with no way out. No escape.

She shoved a chair under the door handle, a desperate last attempt to barricade herself in, and pressed a final kiss to her son’s forehead. “I love you sweetheart,” she whispered.

Voldemort cast the furniture aside effortlessly and entered the room.

Lily had seen him before, face to face. After all, he had thrice asked her personally to join his legion of Death Eaters. She had always refused. Holding fast to that same determination, Lily swallowed, dropping Harry in his crib and throwing her arms wide to shield him. She was not scared. No harm would come to her son. Of this, she was certain.

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!” She knew he would not listen. The words were a last instinct, more for herself than the foul murderer who stood in front of her, draped in a dark cloak, wand outstretched.

“Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside now.” He commanded her with force in his tone. Lily recognized the familiar sensation of the Imperious curse and fought against it.

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—” She would do anything, anything to protect her son.

“This is my last warning—” His voice was cold, cruel, and calculating.

“Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy… Not Harry! Not Harry!” she repeated the words over and over again as if saying them one more time was the key to changing the course of time. “Please—I’ll do anything—”

“Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!”

In the fleeting moments that followed, Harry Potter became the Boy who Lived.

***

It was in some of the final moments of October 31st, 1981 that Hagrid arrived at the decimated house in Godric's Hollow. He’d gotten his orders from Dumbledore the moment the fated curse had rebounded, thanks to a number of surveillance spells, which rang sharp and loud like sirens throughout the Headmaster’s study that night. Hagrid had heard them, even from far off in his hut on the grounds. His blood had turned cold.

The instinct to collapse on the pavement at the sight very nearly overwhelmed him. James and Lily. But above all the devastation he could hear the baby’s cries and he remembered just why he had come.

He dug through the ruins, trying and failing to bite back tears in the chill of the late October night. Just as he found Harry, the tiny infant with a new lightning scar cut jagged across his small forehead, wriggling around and sobbing, a faint rumbling came from down the street. No—from above.

Sirius Black descended upon the scene carefully, landing his magical motorcycle on the street just outside what had been the Potter’s front gate. He was shaking slightly and out of breath, his famously sleek hair now messy and knotted from the wind, his cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink from the chill.

“No!” The shout tore through the too-still air like a shotgun blast. Sirius discarded his bike, letting it fall to the pavement carelessly. He climbed through the wreckage, falling to his knees when he discovered James’ limp body, collapsed over the stairs. His glasses were askew across his face and his mouth was open, gaping lifelessly.

“Where is he…” Sirius muttered to himself. “That son of a bitch where is he—I’ll kill him myself—”

“Hol’ on there Sirius,” Hagrid placed a heavy hand on his shoulder as the tears began to flow. Sirius couldn’t bear it, the tidal waves of emotion, crashing into his body and drawing him under one by one. “It’s a tragedy, but we can’t go doin’ anything reckless, now. It’s not what they would’a wanted.”

Sirius looked up, blinking away the unrelenting stream of sadness pouring down his face. His eyes locked on the baby.

Harry.

His godson.

Harry had fallen back asleep, settled by the soothing rocking and warmth of Hagrid’s arms. He looked so peaceful, so serene, so unaware of the horrors that surrounded him. It broke Sirius’ heart.

“I’ll take him.” His voice broke and he coughed, clearing his throat. “Harry. He’s my godson after all. It’s my responsibility to make sure he’s okay.”

Hagrid looked down on him with an expression of pity. “Oh… I got strict orders from Dumbledore ‘imself. Gonna bring ‘Arry ‘ere to his aunt and uncle in Little Whinging.”

The information washed over Sirius. He swallowed. “Okay,” he agreed hesitantly. Who was he to be a father? He was young, he was reckless, he—“Dumbledore’s usually right in these instances.” His eyes flashed over to the street. He straightened up. “Take my bike.”

Hagrid paused in his rocking of Harry for a moment, shocked. “You sure ‘bout that? Ya love that thing.”

Sirius nodded. He had never been more sure of anything else in his life. “I won’t be needing it, and it’ll get you there quickly. Probably a day, day and a half trip but it’s faster than any Muggle transportation.” He eyed the pink umbrella by Hagrid’s side, “And safer than any experimental magic.”

Hagrid’s cheeks turned a tinge pink. “Right, yer right o’course.”

Sirius helped him get settled, tucking Harry in with a final, tight hug. “I’ll come to visit, all the time,” he promised, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple, where the lightning scar graced his soft skin. He watched as the pair drove away into the night, keeping his eyes steady on the headlights until they faded in with the blackness and the stars.

He arranged the bodies of his best friends carefully, placing them together, side by side. He closed their eyes and lay their hands on top of one another. If it weren’t for the devastation surrounding them, the fading Dark Mark illuminating the sky, he could’ve convinced himself they had simply fallen asleep.

As muggle sirens wailed in the distance, red and white flashing lights turning just around the corner, Sirius Black disapparated.

***

November 1st, 1981

Sirius Black appeared on the streets of London just as the sun was rising over the tall buildings. He was raving, blistering rage driving him to mutter to himself nonstop “I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill him.”

And that was the extent of his plan.

He was going to trace down Peter Pettigrew, the murderer, the spy , and kill him, if it was the last thing Sirius ever did.

Peter found him first.

Sirius was stalking the streets around Peter’s flat, desperately thinking of a way to find him. Workers had only just started their days, but Sirius had been up all night. The bags under his eyes were dark and heavy, and the grief had set on his face. If any of his friends could have seen him, they would have said he’d aged a decade overnight.

Peter very nearly didn’t recognise him, but he saw the wand hanging by his side, gripped with tight, white knuckles. He knew what he had to do.

“Sirius,” Peter cried, putting on a mask of grief and desperation, “how could you?”

Sirius growled as he turned around. He wanted to tear Wormtail limb from limb, chop off his fingers one by one, anything to make him feel the excruciating pain that he’d forced on Sirius. Feel the weight of his actions, feel the death he had caused.

“We were your friends, Sirius!” Peter let his voice raise higher, attracting the attention of the people passing by. Commuters stopped in their walking, exchanging confused and worried glances, a few eyeing the phone booth on the corner.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sirius grumbled, confused but no less angry.

“James and Lily—”

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK THEIR NAMES!” Sirius couldn’t wait another moment longer. He lunged, pointing his wand forward, but an explosion drew him back. He covered his eyes instinctively as the dust and rubble blew into his face.

He lowered his arm just in time to see a rat scuttering down the drainpipe into the sewers.

And Sirius Black laughed.

He threw his head back as maniacal, uncontrollable laughter overtook his senses. There was nothing more he could do.

The street was in full panic now; a dozen or so muggle bodies lay across the street, heads cracked on the pavement, oozing blood. Sirens sounded, but they were far off. The Aurors apparated in with a crack .

Sirius Black was still laughing hysterically as they took his arms and roughly dragged him off, all the way to Azkaban.

There was no trial.

***

Remus had thought he’d known pain. He’d broken virtually every bone in his body—twice—from his smallest finger to his spine and skull. He’d woken up with gruesome wounds, scarred skin torn and still gushing blood. He’d dislocated and contorted his joints and was plagued by never ending aches now that he was older. His knee, his hip, his shoulder. He’d experienced the agony of his entire body stretching and extending unnaturally once a month for nearly all his life. He’d taken curse after Unforgivable curse from Death Eaters and still stood to tell the tale. He’d felt everything from the dull throbbing of a sprained ankle to the all-over torture of being bitten by a werewolf. He’d even dealt with heartbreak—earth-shattering anger and gut-wrenching confusion and pure pure sadness.

None of it even remotely compared to how he felt when he heard the news.

Dumbledore had sent a patronus.

James and Lily. Dead.

Peter. Dead.

Sirius. The love of his life. His fiance. A murderer. The spy.

And Remus was left all alone.

He threw up.

Just as he was starting to come to, gasping for air, hunched over the toilet lid, arms shaking with the effort to keep himself up, face splayed with hot, salty tears, thoughts frantically drowning in his mind, he remembered the baby.

Harry .

His stomach twisted. He retched again.

***

November 2nd, 1981

Molly Weasley didn’t know what to think when a sudden knock came at her door in the earliest hours of November 2nd, 1981. The knock itself shook the Burrow, jolting her awake from the half-sleep she’d been catching in the old armchair sat in the corner of Ginny and Ron’s nursery. She’d checked that the babies were still sleeping and rushed down the stairs at once.

When she swung open the door, her heart dropped.

“Hagrid,” she gasped, beckoning him in “Oh, come in. What brings you here at this time of night?” Her pulse raced, silently

He was standing beside Sirius Black’s bike, Molly recognized it from all the times her husband had asked to take a poke around. His bushy hair hung over his eyes and his shoulders were shaking. “I’s… jus’ terrible. I got ‘im and ‘e started cryin’ an’ I’m okay wi’ kids but…” Hagrid blubbered on, tears streaming down his face. He interrupted himself to blow his nose as Molly struggled to follow his story.

“Hagrid, how about I make you a spot of tea and we can—” then she spotted him.

Harry. The Potter’s son.

He was bundled in a small cloth that had come loose and unraveled on the flight over. His mouth was open wide and it was only once Hagrid’s voice died down that Molly heard that he was, indeed, crying.

She reached down immediately and wrapped the baby in her arms, soothing him, even as her own stomach dropped. Hagrid wouldn’t have the Potter’s child unless…

Her husband came down the stairs at that point, still in his nightclothes. “Molly, what’s the matter—” his eyes landed on Hagrid, who’d settled himself down on their couch, which creaked and bent worryingly under his weight. He raised his wand. “Have you asked the questions?”

Molly snapped, “Oh, Arthur, is that really necessary—”

“No, no, it’s right,” Hagrid said, still sniffling. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and nodded. “Go on Arthur.”

Mr. Weasley glanced between his wife and the half-giant sitting in his living room. “What did Molly and I serve after dinner last time we hosted the Order?” he asked, voice strong, still unsure of the situation.

“Treacle pudding, an’ a mighty fine one if I do say so m’self,” Hagrid chuckled sadly.

Arthur lowered his wand. “Sorry, Hagrid. You understand, don’t you?”

Hagrid bowed his head. It was only then that Arthur caught sight of the baby in his wife’s hands. It didn’t have the telltale ginger hair of a Weasley. “Molly…”

She looked up and her face was streaked with silent tears. “It’s Harry.” She couldn’t say any more.

Hagrid filled in what he knew, though there wasn’t much. He spared them the details of the broken house, the strewn bodies, the Dark Mark radiating menacingly above them. Even still, the knowledge was haunting.

The Potters. Gone.

None of the three of them slept that night. Molly made a cup of tea—she’d offered a warm meal but none of them had much of an appetite—and they talked themselves silly, sitting in the living room, reliving their best memories of the young couple. When the eldest Weasleys thundered down the stairs early that morning, they found their parents with heavy bags beneath their eyes, cheeks still stained with the dried reminders of their grief.

Harry, who’d fallen asleep shortly after being placed in Mrs. Weasley’s arms, awoke with a bit of a startled gurgle. Seeing him awake made Hagrid remember his responsibilities. He cleared his throat and placed his hands on his thighs, beginning to stand, “Well, I bes’ be off. Got a long journey ahead of us, don’t we ‘Arry?”

“Oh Hagrid, don’t be silly,” Molly retorted. “You’ll fall out of the air in your current state!” She gave him the friendliest smile she could manage, “Take a rest. You can sleep in the guest room—at least a few hours. I insist.”

When Hagrid came down a short while later, feeling slightly refreshed, if not exactly well rested, he shook Mrs. Weasley’s hand. “Can’t thank you enough, Molly.” She wrapped him in a tight embrace and just stood there, breathing in the hug for a moment. It was moments like these, in between all the death and destruction and despair, that she wanted to cherish.

***

read the whole fic on ao3

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 34)

“This looks like the place.”

Yeah, sure does, Daryl thinks to himself as he stops next to Mila in the bright sunlight; surely they’re at the right place. A blind couldn’t even avoid seeing this big block of concrete, even if that poor son of a bitch tried his best to. The beige shopping complex at the other side of the vast parking lot looks hauntingly big and abandoned where it stands. Against the blue sky it looks almost grotesque. 

“Ah. The stronghold of capitalism, as my dear papa called it.” Mila exhales and shakes her head, still with her eyes on the mall. “Bless his soul. And yet, my Russian heritage boils with fury at the sight of this… monstrosity.” 

“Thought ye’ weren’t a commie?”

“Doesn’t have to be a commie just because one believes in equality and a society for everyone-” Mila shrugs. “Not only the riches. Maaaybe a socialist.” Mila blinks at him. “Papa preached about that day in and day out. In the end, we are all equal before death, he used to say. Death doesn’t take into account money, nor power.”

An enormous, weathered billboard on the wall proclaims that the concrete box offers them “plus twenty shops, ten restaurants and a playland”, where exhausted parents can check in their obnoxious offspring; and probably, Daryl thinks, as they start to walk towards the futuristic entrance, lots of walkers. He has consciously avoided malls his entire life. His parents could never afford to take ‘em to one, not even dress for such an occasion. The thought of that many people in one spot made his skin crawl, even at that age. Flashy lights, plastic, glossy surfaces and the feeling of being a fish among hundreds of other fishes, in a bowl that’s too big for them to comprehend. A bowl of upper class brats, nuclear suburban families, teens moving in packs like wolves and retirees clinging desperately to their coupons. Nah, he stayed far away. He bets that Mila must have felt the same overwhelming feeling when she set foot in a mall for the first time. Did they have shopping malls in Russia? He doesn’t ask.

“Ya’ ready to rumble, Jersey?” He prepares his crossbow. 

“Calm down, Dixon.” Mila winks and holds out her arms. “It’s not rush hour.”

They steer the steps over the deserted parking lot. There’s rubbish everywhere, shopping carts and bodies. Here and there, nature has burst through tarmac and tufts of long grass peeks out from underneath. 

“Got a plan for this?”

“Get in and get out, alive.” Daryl replies, while searching the area with his eyes. There’s no movements, nothing. It’s completely deserted. Too deserted. Why? He can come up with two possible scenarios; either it is already raided, or it’s a suicide attempt to get in. If so, how many walkers can it be? “Pretty much.”

“Sounds good to me.” Mila says as they pass a shopping cart. She stops, looks at it, before climbing into it. “Escort me to the entrance. Gotta rest these baddies.” She kicks her legs and leans back, eyes closed, in the hard cart.

He can’t help but grin a little. Fine. After all they are completely alone in the large parking lot-

“Hold on then.” Daryl grabs the red rubber handle and starts pushing the wheeled cart in front of him, then starts running.

Mila laughs, squeezes the metal and he increases the speed; they’re like two kids sneaking out on mischief at night. He has done his fair share of monkey business through the years, not specifically racing with shopping carts in a desolated parking lot; rather stole cars, participated in bar fights and occasionally, burglary. Things he ain’t too proud of, but they very much happened nonetheless, not infrequently in the company of Merle. Though he must admit, as he runs over the cracked asphalt with the squeaking shopping cart in front of him, that this is actually fuckin’ funny. He breaks by digging the heels of his boots into the ground and the cart stops. Mila continues to laugh as she gets out of it, but it tips over with a crash, and Mila tumbles over the ground, laughing even harder. She rolls over on her back, her hair flows out like a halo around her. As he steps over to Mila, a thought pops up in his head; he can’t remember the last time he lowered the guard completely, let loose. Only for a moment, but this short moment of letting go, acting childish, was quite- 

“Help me up, will you?” Mila holds out her hand at him. 

Daryl pulls her up from the ground in a handle. She doesn’t let go, instead intertwines her fingers in his and turns to look at the glass entrance door, barricaded with a big pile of carts. It excludes the main entrance as their way in. Maybe for the best, but it doesn’t bode well for what awaits in there. Whoever created the mountain of debris did it to keep something inside.

“Let’s look if there’s a side door.” He states and pulls at her hand. “Come on.” 

They walk alongside the vast entrance side of the mall and around the corner. They pass garbage, a battered mannequin dressed in a sundress that might have been blue or purple, before the blazing sun turned into a pale, washed out mess. Eventually they notice a metal staircase leading up to a single door, painted in the same blant tone as the wall. From the backpack Mila takes a crowbar and hands it to him. He presses it into the small opening between the door and the doorframe, gives it a push, then another one, and the door opens with a metallic crack.

“After ya’.” He offers. 

Mila takes the lead and disappears into the darkness. Daryl follows, pulls the flashlight from his belt and raises it in front of him. The faint light beam is cut by Mila’s silhouette that leads the way through the dark. The air is trapped, dusty and musty. Even though it is dark, Daryl notices on Mila’s posture that she’s holding her handgun out in front of her, ready for anything. She leads them to a door, opens it and enters a darkened, desolate clothing store. In the glow of the flashlight Daryl sees pristine, filled clothing racks, dusty floor mirrors and tables where clothes are in a mess. They start moving through the store. He passes small cubic changing rooms with white revolving doors, a small seating area with funny looking chairs and a small podium with a disproportionate mannequin, dressed in a sequin dress that could fit a five-year-old but not an adult. On the other side of the store, Mila crosses between the racks towards the checkout desk, holding her own flashlight next to her gun. But the store is empty. 

“Nothing.” Mila says and turns, aiming her light in his direction. “Clear.”

“Ya’ good to go?” He crosses the store, steps over a tipped over jewelry rack and a bunch of beads from a broken necklace. 

They walk out of the store, out into the great corridor. It’s completely different than moving out in nature, where he’s familiar with sounds and vegetation. However many times they’ve been ransacking stores, he’s never been fond of the idea of scouting a mall. It’s no easy job and an absolutely foolish one, being only two to pull if off. For every step they take he regrets it even more, taking her with him. Still, he puts a lot of trust in Mila on this one. She moves accustomed over the shiny floor, with the rifle freely hanging on her shoulder, holding the handgun; much easier to use in close combat. Bodies after walkers are scattered everywhere, probably eliminated by previous looters, or by other walkers who have been eaten at each other for lack of other things to feast on. 

The large corridor soon opens up into a circular area, like a square, with an indoor fountain in the middle. Around the square are coffee shops, cafes, a donut bar and a totally destroyed Burger King restaurant. From the square, escalators run up to the upper floor. 

“I’ll check up there.” Daryl says in a low voice, nodding towards the roof.

Mila, who has already set her sights on a store with ‘ZARA’ written over the entrance, gives him a thumbs up over her shoulder, without slowing down or turning. Yeah, she’ll be fine.

Daryl looks at the escalator and begins to move silently towards the square. Silent as a cat, he climbs the broken escalator, crossbow height in front of him, ready for any kind of surprise; walkers or other looters. But no one’s attacking, nothing’s moving. What meets him when he puts his foot on the second floor is a mess; corpses, debris and chaos. As if many people had fled up the escalators and thought they were safe up here. Well, boy they were wrong. Silently, Daryl scouts the second floor corridor, no flashlight this time. His worn boots stand in stark contrast to towards the white, polished floor; it’s not just his boots, his entire essence is the total opposite of everything he’s surrounded with. And yet, the bewildering of this place somehow makes it more bearable, but the cost of it is another matter. 

He decides that it’s safe to turn on the flashlight, lets it dance around the surroundings as he moves past the shops; a shop with outdoor clothing and hunting gear, a shop with only crockery and other knick-knacks, shoe stores, men’s clothing, women’s clothes, women’s lingerie, more women’s clothing- Suddenly, as the light wanders over a window, something bedazzles him, makes him squint and turns the light down. Still squinting, once again getting used to the dark from being totally bedazzled, he looks at the window, tries to catch a glimpse of the cause. Nah, it’s too dark. He looks up at the store front. A fancy-as-fuck jewelry store. The front shutter has only gone down halfway before it stopped, possibly because of power failure. Once again he peers through the dusty glass window, catches sight of a glass box. It’s inside is covered in some shiny soft fabric he doesn’t know the name of, on which three small gemstone rings rests; the stones must’ve glistened in the light from the flashlight. A single one of those glistening bastards has to be worth a smaller fortune. Daryl squints even more, catches sight of a teeny tiny price tag that makes his eyebrows travel upwards in his forehead. Holy fucking shit. 

“I’ll be damn.” He says faintly to himself, but doesn’t take his eyes off the treasures behind the glass. 

A fleeting thought strikes him, only for a short moment and he quickly shakes it off. He makes his way into the store, does a sweep before stating that it’s empty. Just as he’s about to leave, he hears something. He turns, crossbow raised and notices Mila.

“Fuckin’-” He mutters and lowers the crossbow. “Ya’ scared the crap outta me.”

“Sorry.” She grimaces. “Didn’t think you were the fussy type?”

“Well ya’ kinda good at sneakin’ around.” He scoffs. “Found what ya’ looked for?”

“Yup.” She nods. “Be prepared for the big Juri fashion show when we're back home.” She smiles in the dim light from his flashlight. “You done here?”

“Let’s go.” 

They crouch under the shutter and once again find themselves standing in the upper corridor. Mila steers her steps to the right, towards the store with women’s clothes and lingerie.

“Ya’ not done?” Daryl says. 

“I haven’t gotten something for myself in fucking ages.” Mila turns on the spot and gives him a gaze he doesn’t know how to interpret. “Come on, we’re in a dead mall. There’s millions of stuff here for free. Might as well- you know.” 

She turns and walks into the store, gun and flashlight raised in front of her. Reluctantly Daryl follows her, swearing inside his head. Is she going to drag him around this goddamn mall all day or what? Apparently an apocalypse, the goddamn end of the world, ain’t enough to stop her from strolling around in stores. When he catches sight of her, Mila has already grabbed at least ten pieces of clothing, moving between the racks. 

“Great, there you are.” She says and slips out of her backpack, that she throws over the store at him. “Hold on to that for me.”

“Ya’ ain’t goin’ to try all of ‘em, right?” Daryl says admonitory, he doesn’t intend to linger in this place longer than necessarily. Mila on the other hand looks at him as if she cannot believe her ears. “Goddammit’ Jersey!” 

“Jeez, you are really not much fun to hangout with sometimes.” Mila scoffs and waves her hand at him. “Relax, I’ll be quick.” While continuing to mutter, in russian this time, Mila turns and sweeps into a changing room, where she pulls the dusty curtains together. 

The only thing that can be seen are her boots, which she begins to lace up, while humming on some song he’s unfamiliar with. This shit’s going to take forever, Daryl thinks and throws out his arms, as to get support; well, from who? God almighty himself? Nah. In one hand he’s holding his gun and Mila’s backpack, stuffed with what could be Juri’s entire wardrobe, in the other he’s holding the crossbow and his flashlight. Like a pack mule. He looks up, towards the roof, sighs and puts on the backpack. He catches sight of a chair in front of the row of changing rooms that he crashes down into and once again sighs deeply.

“Relax, Dixon.” Mila says from the other side of the curtain, struggling with some kind of garment. 

“Ya’ impossible, ya’ know that?” Daryl points the flashlight’s light beam at the curtain, which appears deep red in the bright light. Once again she’s saying something completely gibberish in russian. “It better be good.”

“Or else?” Mila chuckles.

The next moment she pulls apart the curtains and stands as if in a spotlight, bare feets, wearing a small floral dress in some kind of crumpled fabric or whatever it’s called, he ain’t no fashion expert. But he has fully functioning eyes, and she’s mighty fine.

“This is weird.” Mila grimaces and nods down at the floral fabric. “I used to wear dresses like this all the time before, well, when the weather allowed it. Can you believe it!” 

Yes and no, Daryl thinks, at the same time as the insecurity, the damn insecurity, arises inside of him; he doesn’t know where to look, his mouth gets dry and feels that he’s starting to get a hard-on. She sighs and turns to look at herself in the mirror on the wall. She’s incredibly pretty, but it’s like she’s a completely different person all of a sudden. As if they’re thrown back in time, before the apocalypse. He’d never had a chance on her back then, that’s clearer than ever when she’s standing in front of him like this, in what apparently was her usual spring and summer attire. Still, it arouses him to the point of him almost exploding.

“Yup, I’m gonna keep it.” Mila says, who hasn’t noticed his inner struggle. “I haven’t owned a dress in years and days.” She turns around and walks over at him. “So?”

“So what?” Daryl replies, shaky.

“Do you like it?” She nudges her bare knee at him. “That’s what the chair’s for. Giving advice. So?”

Even though it is dim, no- dark, in the abandoned store, Daryl tears his eyes from her face and looks down at her kneecap, so that she doesn’t see that he’s blushing. Her subtle, yet appealing way of expressing desire; He no longer experiences anger and frustration in combination with this pleasant feeling of gushing heat throughout his entire body, but it still taunts him that it’s not ‘easy’, that he’s still feeling slightly awkward. Her looking all dressed up pretty doesn’t really make it easier. It’s like being back in a bar, eying dressed up girls with lots of makeup and whatnot, without the slightest courage to go over and talk to them. Merle used to say that the only women worth approaching were the ones they could buy, of course referring to prostitutes or the occasional biker hangaround if he was really lucky. Well, Daryl was never one of those lucky ones. What the heck, he thinks to himself and raises his gaze, it’s Mila. Heaven and hell of his life, his alcoholic, kind, funny, stubborn girl, dress or no dress. Right now that dress needs to get off. He wants to rip it from her body with his teeth, like a lion.

Mila lifts her leg and rests her foot up on his thigh. He puts his hands on her calf, leans in and places his lips on the knee that seconds ago nudged on his teasingly. It has a faint bruise on the kneecap that shifts in blue, green, yellow and purple. As he lingers there with his mouth, his hands caress her lean calf, continuing upwards to her thigh. 

“Come ‘ere.” 

Without hesitating she lowers herself onto him, gazing into his eyes and making it practically impossible to tear his eyes from hers. Even though it’s dark Daryl sees them clearly, like gleaming obsidians. Softly he places a strand of hair behind her ear, brings her head closer to his into a kiss. 

“Take it off.” He declares as he briefly breaks the kiss. At Mila’s faint chuckle, he replies, calmer and steadier than he’d expected: “Would be a shame if it was destroyed.”

She’s not difficult to persuade. Mila easily pulls the dress over her head, straddling him only in her underwear, bra and panties.

“Meaning that… you liked it?” She grins, biting her lower lip. 

The atmosphere is already at a boiling point and she wastes no time to wait for an answer. She returns to kiss him passionately, while threading his vest over his shoulders and dropping it to the floor. With accustomed fingers she starts to unbutton his shirt, while pressing herself towards his throbbing hard-on. They’re abruptly interrupted in their frenzy kissing by a noise; a loud, echoing clink, like a fork hitting tile that sounds like a volcanic eruption throughout the empty mall complex.

“What was that?” Mila exclaims, with her hands still clinging to his shirt, hanging halfway over his shoulders. 

No matter how much Daryl wants to pretend he didn’t hear anything, just so they continue what they’ve just started, nah- he won’t be able to. He sighs, grabs a firm hold of her behind and rises from the chair. Reluctantly, Mila puts her feet down on the floor next to the dress and lets go of him.

“Be right back.” Daryl straightens his shirt and turns around, steers his steps towards the entrance while correcting his hard-on through the jeans. “Son of a-”

As he places his hand on the gun in his belt, he moves silently out from the store. It strikes him that the open areas are brighter than the store, not much but enough for it to be noticeable, making him search for a source of light. He walks over to the railing, overlooking the void with the square and fountain underneath. His gut feeling tells him that something is wrong. Very wrong. He turns his head upwards, expecting to see a big window. He does, more specifically a glass dome, but at the sight of it, he finds the reason for his gut feeling. Crawling over the big glass dome, like worms in a jar, more than dozen walkers lie scattered without any chance of getting up. They must have been people who hid on the roof, then somehow turned into walkers that fell down onto the thick glass, where they’ve been trapped for who knows how long? He looks closely at the glass. A large crack -the source of the screeching noise- is visible in the glass, and hundreds of smaller cracks branches out from the larger crack. How he managed to miss that before is a mystery. Then a loud noise, like sending off a wrecking ball into a crystal chandelier, follows; the glass dome collapses. Glass and walkers rain down into the void and land on the floor, in the fountain, on the railing to the second floor and the escalator. Daryl throws himself away just as a walker lands in the spot he just was in. Rubble and bodies, exploding as they hit the floor, continues to rain down from the dome. He turns around and runs back into the clothing store. Mila, now once again dressed in her regular clothes, adjusts the collar of the leather jacket when he returns.

“We gotta go!” He grabs his vest and crossbow from the floor.  

“What the hell happens?”

“Walkers.” Daryl says shortly. “Fell through the roof.” He turns as soon as he hears another, closer familiar noise. Hissing, scraping, thudding. “They’re comin’. Lets go.”

He grabs the backpack while Mila takes the lead, gun’s lifted, ready for combat. She doesn’t have to wait long before firing the first bullet, then the second. Daryl steps up by her side and makes a quick estimate that there were undoubtedly more walkers on the roof than he imagined; probably inside the mall as well, who woke up from their dead slumber somewhere in the shadows, when the glass dome collapsed.  

“Where did all of these come from?” Mila cries over the gunfire.

“Dunno.” Daryl replies and sends off a well aimed arrow into the head of another walker. “We’ll fend ‘em off then get the hell outta here.” 

Mila nods, raises her gun and- it clicks.

“Oh come on.” Mila tries once again, but nothing happens. “For fuck sake!” 

Malfunctioning guns wasn’t part of the escape plan. The break in gunfire is enough for the walkers to round up against them, forcing them back. While Daryl fends off the walkers with arrows, they move backwards towards the railing. In the corner of his eye Daryl sees the escalators, approximately three or four meter away to their right. Suddenly the hoard bolts at them, forces them to back into the glass banister. Mila loses balance as one of the walkers attacks her with force, she’s pushed against the banister while wrestling the walker, preventing it from biting into her flesh. With a grunt of force, she manages to wrestle the walker and tip it over the banister, but it pulls her with it over the railing. As in slow motion Daryl throws himself towards Mila, just in time to reach over the railing and grab her by the arm of the leather jacket. The sudden thug caused by the prevention of Mila falling makes the walker lose its grip around her and it falls down into the walkers in and around the halfway dried up fountain. Mila clings to Daryl’s arm, dangling like a bait over a pack of carnivores. 

“Hold on!” He cries as he lifts his head towards the walkers approaching him, as he fires the crossbow at them.

“I’m trying!”

He must not let go. It’s a fall of several meters if he drops her. While he’s frantically trying to find a way out of the situation, he hears how Mila with her free hand seems to have solved the problem with her handgun and has started shooting walkers below. His arm cramps and his hand begins to slip over the smooth leather. He can’t let go of the crossbow to adjust his grip or pull her up. But it’s inevitable and he screams out loud when he feels how his cramping hand, covered in sweat, slips from the leather and he loses his grip around her. 

“Nooo!”

He turns around at the same time as he sends off the crossbow through the air on his way, and it hits two of the dead bastards. Daryl’s blood freezes and panic rushes over him like a cold shower as he sees how Mila drops down, feet first, into the snake pit of walkers and disappears. Cold sweat runs down his back and it feels like he’s going to vomit, at the same time the blood starts to boil inside his veins.

“Ya fuckin’- bastards-” He yells and starts to punch down walkers, fists and knuckles, while he, as fast as he can, moves towards the escalators, in which walkers from the ground floor have begun to struggle upwards. ”Jersey?” he screams, almost panicking, while shooting, punching and pushing walkers out of his way. ”Mila?”

He can’t see her anywhere in the hoard. Suddenly he hears gunshots somewhere in the crowd, whereupon Mila becomes visible in the rotten mass. Her lip is cracked, her hair is bushy but otherwise she’s visibly unharmed and she begins to ram through the carnivore. Daryl’s heart, which seems to have stopped completely as soon as he lost the grip of her up at the second floor, begins to beat frantically and he makes his way towards her. At the same time a walker appears behind Mila, preoccupied with the ones in front of her, is about to dig its teeth into her shoulder from the back. Before it gets the chance, Daryl raises the crossbow, aims and puts an arrow into its eye socket, and it collapses behind her. 

“Ya’ alright.” He pants in a cracked voice. Talk about having nine lives or what? The anxiety knot in his chest begins to loosen up, but he can’t let it untie fully, not let himself breathe fully just yet. Not until they’re far away from this place.

“Landed softly.” Mila replies, mildly exhausted from wrestling walkers. “Let’s get outta here! I’ve had enough of the mall for today.”

They begin to run towards the big entrance, towards the light, feints newly awakened walkers who have crawled out of their corners on their way. They stop in front of the tall glass doors when they see the pile of carts on the other side. Fuck, they totally forgot about that.

“We don’t have time for this crap!” Mila says and reaches for her rifle, that has been offered a well needed rest since they were out in the woods earlier. She directs it at the entrance doors, pulls the trigger and shoots. The glass shatters into a million pieces and rains down onto the floor. “Come on!”

They start to climb the unstable construction of shopping carts, then get down on the other side, finding themselves standing in the parking lot, next to the cart they raced in before. They look at eachother, then turn to look at the mall entrance. On the other side of the mountain of carts the walkers stomps around, crashing into the rustling pile of metal. 

“That was-” Mila pants, grasping for words. “The dress made it.” 

“What?” Daryl looks at her, what the heck is she talking about? 

“Yeah I put it in the backpack when you went out to check on the noise.” Mila says, corrects the rifle strap on her shoulder and shrugs. “We both seemed to like it.”

[classycadaver]

A side blog for my main classycorpse. I'm posting any future art + writing here just cause I like making things difficult for myself. Anyways- heres a oneshot esc thing I wrote for a Post-Apocalypse esc au based around Fallout and Metro Exodus. I dont think I'll ever finish it but I was fairly proud of how the first chapter came out so I'm sharing it.

The original title for this work was "Pieces of The People We Love " and was going to follow the main plot of the founding of L'manburg up until it went boom, but through a Post Apocalyptic lense.

Reblogging is much appreciated and encouraged!

•○●○•

" Watch out for that branch. " 

    

" What bra- OH FUCK!" 

    

    Wilbur snorts at the explosive cursing behind him, smirking as he stops and turns toward Tommy. The young teen was hunched over, rubbing at his face all the while letting out a litany of curses. 

    

    " Your just a grade a fuckin' comedian, aren't ya Wilbur? '' Tommy spats venomously, glaring up at his brother. Wilbur chuckles, a genuine smile splitting across his face as he rolls his eyes. " Do you think it's funny? Trying to blind your poor, helpless, younger brother in such dire times?" Tommy adds. Wilbur notes the red line that streaks across Tommy's nose and cheek, presumably where the branch had struck him; Wilbur shakes his head as his younger brother continues to air his grievances, rolling his eyes at Tommy's overreaction. 

    

    " Well, I did warn you. Not my fault you can't follow simple commands. '' Wilbur humms back in a matter-of-factly tone. " And good job with the big words Tommy, I didn't know your vocabulary had expanded so much. Techno would be proud. " 

    

    Wilbur is already turning around, walking further along the path the two were currently traversing. Tommy fumbles with himself, trying to think of a response as he hurries after Wilbur. Tommy has to lengthen his gate to match Wilburs pace, almost fast walking to keep up with the taller man. 

    

    " I- well-.... whatever, you're a jerk, I don't have to explain myself to you. " Tommy hisses, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.  " Plus- dire isn't a big word. Anyone can say dire, bitch. " The blonde added hotly. 

     " Whatever you say, Tommy. " Wilbur chuckles, waving off his younger brother. Tommy gapes at him, taken aback at being dismissed so swiftly.  

    " Did you just wake up on the ' let's bully Tommy today' side of the bed this morning? Cause you're being a pretty big dick, Wil, not gonna lie. " Tommy grumbles, glaring holes into the back of Wilbur's head. Wil simply shrugs, letting out an exasperated noise that indicated he was clueless towards Tommy's accusations. " I have no idea what youre talking about,Toms. " Wilbur hums. " Someones just extra sensitive today it seems. " 

     Wilbur cackles when Tommy punches him in the side, a string of angry curses leaving the teens mouth. The punch had no real anger or malice behind it, but the younger boy's bony knuckles dug into Wilburs side almost painfully, leaving a sting where Tommy's fist had struck Wil's side. The taller of the two let's out a huff, a shaky, wheezing, laughter following it. 

    " This is older sibling abuse-!" Wilbur laughs. The darker haired man dodges another swing aimed toward his arm, he catches Tommy's fist in the air. Wilbur is quick to spin the agitated teenager away from him, snorting humorously as Tommy almost loses his footing. Tommy desperately tries to catch his balance less he falls head over heels into the dirt road. 

     " Fockin- What the hell do you call that, then?" Tommy yells back at Wilbur, gesturing to the open space around them. " 'Older Sibling abuse' my ass!" The blonde growls, throwing his hands in the air. Tommy stands his ground, arms crossed over his chest as he stares Wilbur down with narrowed eyes. 

    " I demand an apology. " Tommy practically growls in a haughty tone. 

    " A- you can't be serious?" Wilbur stops in his tracks, looking at Tommy with a exspression that screams 'your bullshiting me, right?'. " You started it!" Wilbur accuses, letting out an airy laugh of disbelief.  " You want me to apologize for defending myself against such a brutal attack?" 

     Tommy's gaze seemingly hardens at Wilbur's words. His brow furrows and his mouth sets into a deep frown. Wilbur finds the look downright adorable. It sparks a small nostalgic memory for wilbur, reminding him of the earlier days with his brother- when Tommy used to pout whenever things didn't go his way. Although it seems like not much has changed over the years. 

Wilbur lets out a long, drawn out sigh; a hand flies to his face, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. " Fine. " Wilbur knew that Tommy wouldn't let something as simple as this go so fast, it was best to just apologize and get it over with. Internally, Wilbur cheers himself on by being such a good older sibling. 

    " Tommy I'm sorry-" Tommy looks at Wilbur triumphantly, a smirk already replacing his frown. Wilbur suddenly narrows his eyes behind his glasses, " I'm sorry for defending myself against a rather vicious attack. " He finishes. Wilbur mirrors Tommy's fading smirk as he turns away, suddenly dismissing the teen with a simple wave of his hand. Still a totally honorable older sibling thing to do. 

     " Asshole!"

     Wilbur snickers, shoving his hands into his pockets as he hears Tommy's encroaching footsteps. 

     " You think you're so-" 

     " About a mile up this road and We'll reach Essmpy." Wilbur interjects into Tommy's sentence, smiling softly as he watches his brother give him a death glare. There's a few beats of silence that pass between them, only the ambiance of nature filling in the gaps. The quietness seems to calm Tommy down considerably; the teen walking behind Wilbur in uncharacteristic silence. Wlibur cast a glance over his shoulder, observing Tommy with a mild sense of worry. Wil opens and closes his mouth, unable to find the words he's looking for. Eventually Wilbur lets it go, content with the silence. 

   But the quietness doesn't last long before Tommy begins to talk. " I'm not letting that go, by the way-you shit head. I'm holding that against you, until you actually apologize." The blonde declares, looking pointedly at Wilbur before looking away. Wilbur simply shrugs, deciding that there were worse fates than a brother's faux hatred. 

    A pregnant pause follows Tommys sentence, although Wilbur can tell the boy was attempting to put together another string of words. Wilbur walks patiently alongside Tommy, slowing his pace considerably." Do you think Techno will be there? Or.. or Phil?" Wilbur seems to be caught off guard by Tommy's question. The taller man's gate stutters as he tries to formulate a response. " Maybe? I don't know. '' Wilbur chokes out, furrowing his brow. " I mean-.. Techno was all the way up near Glay'seir. Doing college stuff and what not. So he's probably still up there, yea? I heard they were pretty well fortified, so Techs… okay, most likely. '' Wil blurts out, looking at the road ahead of them. His brown gaze flits over to Tommy, who had fallen back into a concerning quietness.

    The blonde simply nodded his head, looking down at the beaten dirt path below his boots, subconsciously wringing his gloved hands. He quickly pushes down his anxieties, shoving his hands to his sides as he thinks of something funny- anything to get rid of the melancholy mood.

    Tommy grunts when he smacks into Wilburs back, huffing agitatedly as he stumbles back a few feet, an insult already on the tip of his tongue. Before he can say a word, Wilbur whirls around, grabbing Tommy's hand as he starts to run the way they had just come. 

     Tommy barely has time to collect himself before he gets jerked backwards by the force of Wilburs hold on his hand. He nearly trips over his own feet in an attempt to keep up with Wilbur, the anxiety and fear building up in his chest making it even harder to focus on where he's running. 

     In another quick motion, they stop. Wilbur ducks past one of the shrubs lining the road, tugging Tommy in after him. Before he knows it, they're both sitting behind a tree, covered by the foliage surrounding them. Tommy scowls at the uncomfortable feeling of roots, sticks, and leaves beneath him; but he does not express his disdain for the area Wilbur chose to hide them in. 

     " What was it?" Tommy whispers, trying to peer past the tree trunk to get a glimpse of whatever Wil had seen. Tommy is immediately pulled back, a hand planted over his mouth as Wilbur shushed him. The blonde glares at Wilbur, scowling as he pushes Wils hand away from his face, grumbling angrily at his brother. 

     They wait in uncomfortable silence. Tommy listens intently for any sign of movement, but only hears the general ambiance of the forest. He lets out an exasperated sigh after what feels like ages of waiting, head thudding against the trunk of the tree before turning to Wilbur. 

     " Come on Wil, there's literally nothing out there-” Tommy's mouth snaps shut, body going completely rigid and eyes practically bulging from their sockets. Fear silences any words from escaping his mouth as he stares at the thing Wilbur had apparently seen earlier. He feels Wilbur tense next to him as the brunette moves into a crouched position, his hand clenching Tommy's  hand almost painfully. Both of their eyes are trained onto the creature just a few trees away from them, its giant grey body could clearly be made out from between the greens and browns of the forest around them.

    The lanky abomination has its flank toward them, its whip thin tail flicking back and forth as its large head hangs heavy between its bony shoulders, presumably sniffing the ground. Tommys breath catches in his throat when the creature's head suddenly snaps up; a high pitched, echoey cry leaves the animal's parted maw. The sound seeps directly into Tommys soul, his hand clenching Wilburs. 

    Wilbur glances back at Tommy taking his sights off of the creature for a moment. Tommy catches Wilburs eyes, fear very prominent in his blue gaze. Wil takes another quick look toward the creature before mouthing the words ‘ back to the road.’ at Tommy. The blonde furrows his brows in confusion. Back to the road? Surely that thing would hear them going through the underbrush? Was Wilbur nuts? 

    Tommys eyes widen when Wilbur shifts in place, yanking his hand from Tommy's. In a swift series of movements, Wilbur's arm is thrown back with a large object in hand- wait when did he get a rock? There's a loud crash as Wil throws the object; The rock tumbles through the foliage, effectively catching the creatures attention. It lets out a rumbling bark, immediately nose diving into the underbrush. Tommy scrambles against the bark of the tree, watching as Wilbur bolts from his spot besides him and quickly disappears past the tree trunk. 

     Tommy scrambles to follow Wilbur, tripping over his feet and the roots of the tree as he goes after Wil. Dread seeps into his stomach when a loud, ear piercing howl erupts from behind him. Tommy has his eyes set onto the back of Wilburs trench coat, focusing on his brother's back as his legs fly a mile a minute beneath him. His heart thunders in his chest, lungs burning as he sucks in quick gasps of air. 

    A crash and screech alerts them both that the Creature had caught on to their scent, the loud pounding of paws on the earth floor was enough to light a fire beneath Tommy's feet. He watches as Wilbur pushes past the barrier of foliage that encases the road they were traveling earlier- a spark of hope ignites in the boy's chest as he closes in on where Wilbur had disappeared. Tommy's mouth opens into a silent cry as he trips over a root or rock, sending his body barreling through the wall of leaves and out onto the road.

    Tommy hits the ground hard, the impact forcefully knocking the wind from his lungs as he tumbles forwards. Tommy lets out a wheeze as he lays helplessly on the road, desperately gasping for air as he claws at the dirt beneath him,  trying to make more distance between him and the creature. 

    A loud caterwaul fills the air, quickly followed  by a near deafening screech. Tommy curls in on himself, covering his head with his arms. The blonde cries out when something solid hits his side as an uncomfortable warmth seeps through his ragged clothes. 

     Tommy peeks open one of his eyes, face morphing into fear as he stares at the battered face of whatever had been chasing them. He screams, desperately scrambling backwards to get away from the thing. It takes him a second to realize that the creature very much wasn't alive at all. The head that had been staring at him was decapitated, head severed just below its jaw from its neck. 

  

     " Damn- that was a close call. " 

     As if the situation could get even more confusing, a voice comes from Tommy's left, spooking the boy significantly. He turns to face whoever had just been talking. Tommy is immediately greeted by a figure looming above him, the sun above perfectly silhouetting the stranger just right so he couldn't make out their face. 

 

     " Wil?" Tommy asks hesitantly.  He quickly realizes that whoever this was- certainly wasn't Wilbur. Tommy immediately gets into a standing position, swaying lightly on his feet from an intense feeling of vertigo- he must have hit his head hard when he fell. 

     The green man takes a step back, holding up his hands in an attempt to appear harmless. The bow and arrow in hand accompanied by the sword on this stranger's hip paints a different story. The incredibly tall height this guy is packing intensities the whole "intimidation" factor- he has to at least be eight feet tall. He was clad in a green camo jumper, a gold chest plate adorns his chest along with golden shoulder pads, his face obscured by what appeared to be a gas mask. 

     " Who- Who the fuck are you?"  Tommy splutters, unsure of what to make of this situation he's found himself in. The stranger lowers his hands, a soft "oh right" escaping him as he tries to find the right words. 

    “ My name is Awesam... But my friends call me Sam. “ 

[missbeautyandherbeast]

Leverage

Raphael X Reader (Soulmate AU)

Summary: Raphael’s name was written on your skin forever, but before you told him, he told you he didn’t have a soulmate tattoo. So you lied and denied you had one too. How could he be your soulmate if he didn’t have a tattoo? 

A/N: Hey so this is pure ANGST with a little fluff and slight +18 content at the end... slightly... anyway for this is for the lovely @oceans-daughter-3​ (I know it’s not fluff, but I had a dream and well here we are). I love you guys, let me know what you think!

Tags: @brightlotusmoon​ @boatloadsofheart @legandarybeauty​​ @crazywritingbug​​ @bitch-kms @ravn-87 @just-a-casual-fangirl-011​​ @unicornjoos @stuckoutsideofthebox @ilikestuffproductions​ @whygz​ @coffee-addicti​​ @sugarspooks15 @leslieebee @serperiorkb@blossom-skies @fantastical-67impala-fangirl @coresan​ @big-banging-red​ @iceprincess2019​ @raphaeladdict​ @thirstyforvenom​ @merindagriese​ @depressedemo-152​ @bengewatch @corabmarie​ @bitemebro522​ @tmnt-queen​ @muleka-loka​ @violet-sky-96​ @curadopordeus​ @artemismohr18​ @thewhisperpen​ @xjupitermoonsx​ @bisexualbumblebeesstuff​ @merindagriese @oceans-daughter-3​ @dixonreedusfangirlforever

“This is big.” I whispered. “This is... biological warfare big...”

“I just don’t know how he’s doing it,” Donnie muttered tapping on his screens. “If I figured that out, maybe I could stop it.”

“It doesn’t make sense though,” Raph scoffed. “Stockman has beef with Y/n and me, not all of New York... why would he do this?”

Raphael glanced over to me beside him and I quickly looked down, my cheeks flushing slightly. It was hard to deny the pivotal point that was Raphael in my life. What was worse was that his name was written in eternal ink on my skin.

Have I told him this? No. Was I going to? Not even close. For all the brothers knew, I didn’t have a soulmate tattoo. It was easy to fake, not everyone had one. Each of the brothers did... except Raph.

So, my tattoo wasn’t for him then. Who the hell it was supposed to be, I didn’t know. I didn’t want it to be anyone but him. I awaited the fate that would eventually prove that it wasn’t meant to be after all.

“Y/n are you listening?” Leo pulled me from my thoughts. 

“Huh? What? Yeah.” I gave a false smile.

“Space.” Raph teased.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Careful or I’ll use that tongue for something else,” He grinned making me flush bright red again 

“Will the two of you focus?” Leo scolded. “We need to figure this out, you two can flirt later.”

We both grumbled and looked down. My cheeks were still warm. Little did I know that so were Raphael’s.

_____________________________

“Pheromones” I whispered looking to Raphael. “That’s how he’s doing it.”

“Pheromones?” Donnie asked but I kept my eyes trained on Raph.

“They’re like... drugs, that make the mind give into instinct...” I stammered the explanation.

“I know what they are,” Donnie muttered. “I just don’t get why he’s not using them for... something more violent.”

“So, it’s a bad thing that he’s not using this for violence?” Raph mused, smirking at me. 

“Well, no...”

“And it’s not affecting us,” Raph pointed out.

“Shouldn’t they though?” I thought out loud. “Aren’t you guys like... more susceptible?”

“It’s not affecting you either,” Raph shot back. “Freak,” He muttered. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I haven’t been above ground since it all started, it’s not in my system,” I snapped and folded my arms. “but ya know I can go up right now.”

“No,” Both Donnie and Raph protested.

I raised an eyebrow at Raph. He just rolled his eyes.

________________________________

We stared down Stockman on a rooftop on New York.

I looked over to Raph, and he looked at me. We were both ourselves, not under the influence of Baxter’s weapon.

“It didn’t affect us,” I breathed out relieved.

“Well, of course it didn’t,” Raphael rolled his eyes and smiled at me.

“Well,” I smiled. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone.” That had to be a silver lining.

“On the contrary my dear,” Baxter laughed. “If I am so smart to create this pheromone don’t you think I would have tested it on the brothers? No, I have one for Raphael specifically. This is what the two of you deserve.”

“What?” I glanced over to Raphael. His eyes were squeezed shut, straining against some unseen thing.

“Raphael,” I took a step away from him, my hands going up in defense.

It wouldn’t be too bad right? The pheromones just made everyone else zombies... I’d be fine. He’d be fine.

Yeah, maybe I wasn’t convinced.

“Run.” He breathed out before his golden eyes snapped up to mine.

It was a second for me to process but I was too late. In that second, he grabbed me and threw me to the ground. I scrambled up looking for a way out. I couldn’t fight him. Even if I had the ability to, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

“Raph, come on,” I pleaded as he stalked towards me. We were predator and prey.

“Oh, won’t it be so sad. He’ll kill you, wake up, realize what he did... Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo,” Stockman sighed amused.

From the corner of my eye I saw the brothers hop into the roof, making their way towards us. 

“No! Stay back!” I called, keeping my eyes trained on sharp gold ones.

“Why?” Stockman laughed. “He has no aggression towards his family... you on the other hand never were his family,”

I froze in my tracks. His words broke me more than anything else could. I’d rather have Raphael kill me than believe those words.

“That’s not true Y/n. You know that,” Leo’s voice was the voice of reason.

I didn’t particularly listen though. I was too focused on the terrapin in front of me. I knew he could kill me. Easily. He knew how to, in many ways probably. Not probably... he did.

“Leo, one of us isn’t walking away from this,” my voice was surprisingly calm. “and it can’t be him,”

“You both can walk away from this,”

“No Leo,” Raphael’s voice was calm, cold. “She’s right. She’s not walking away from this.” His velvet voice purred the menacing words.

“Raphael,” I whispered. “I know he’s in your head. I know you’re giving into instinct. Please for once Raphael, be yourself! I’m begging you!”

He came at me viscously and I dodged out of the way. He swept around and knocked my feet out from under me. I fell back, my shoulder hitting the ground hard. I let out a cry and flinched waiting for the blow...

But it didn’t come.

I dared to open my eyes and saw Leo, Donnie, and Mikey holding Raphael back, forcing him to the ground.

Getting up I panted, rolling my shoulders out. Something had to be dislocated.

 “Think think think,” I whispered harshly. “How do I get you out of this.”

“The stuff he used... it has to do with scents yeah? Instinct?” Mikey struggled as Raphael tried to dislocate his arm.

“Yeah,” I took a small step back.

“Then kiss him!” Donnie shouted panting from the effort that it took to keep his brother contained.

“What!?” I demanded. “How is that going to solve anything?”

“Look anger and love are very close together. Passion is passion. Instinct is instinct. You have to snap him out of it!”

The three of them wrestled Raphael to his knees. He still struggled against them, his eyes stayed trained on me, furious growls radiating from his chest.

“Raphael doesn’t...!” I cried. “He doesn’t love me!”

“Bullshit,” Leo snapped. “Even if he didn’t, you love him, don’t you?” 

“Of course, I love him!” 

It was the first time that I had ever said the words out loud. They seemed final somehow. Those words were what were going to make or break me.

“Then you have to kiss him!”

The golden eyes that once held fury were now petrified as he stilled.

“Please, don’t let her do that,” his voice was a begged whisper that went deep into my soul. “Please I’m begging you don’t let her touch me,”

My heart shattered at the desperation in his voice. Shards of glass that pierced every part of who I was. I wanted to give in. How could I go against such an agonized plea?

“Raphael, don’t you do that to her,” Leo hissed. “Don’t you dare. You are playing a sick game.”

“One that I have to lose,” I whispered tears streaming down my face as my eyes tried to find Stockman, but he was gone.

“It’s okay Leo... Let him win. I’ll kiss him... but he has to win.”

I took the steps forward and knelt in front of him. I didn’t dare to look up. I could hear the faint sounds of his panting and low growl in his throat. My heart hammered in my chest.

This was it.

“I never loved you,” his voice hissed. “You were always too slow, too weak. Your emotions make you weak.”

I met callous golden eyes.

“I’d rather be weak than never feel at all,” my voice broke. “I’m sorry I have to do this Raph.”

My eyes flickered to the brothers, who all had some sort of pity on their faces. I shook the thought and looked back to Raphael.

“Come back to me,” I begged and reached out, my fingers caressing his face as I pressed my lips to his.

I had thought about what it would feel like to kiss him. Just once. Not that I’d ever imagine it to be like this.

His lips attacked mine, the same passion he had before in taking me down in battle returned behind his force of the kiss. But I wasn’t backing down. Not from this fight.

My fingers gripped his jaw tighter as my other hand came up to stoke his cheek, the edges of his mask, his jaw, anything that I could reach.

His hot breath entered my mouth and I almost lost focus as his tongue met mine.

Maybe this was a cruel game after all. Because this kiss was everything I wanted it to be and yet... it wasn’t right. It wasn’t Raphael. Not my Raphael anyway. Not my friend... and not the one written on my arm.

I felt tears slip down my cheeks as I pulled away, leaning against him slightly turning my face from him. I heard him take a sharp breath in.

The feeling of regret washed over me. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have just let him kill me.

My hands fell into my lap where my eyes stayed trained. Until I stood walking away a bit, back turned to him.

“Let me go,” Raphael’s voice sounded strained. 

“What kind of idiot—”

“Let him go!” I demanded. “It’s fine. I... I already lost.” I looked up to the empty night sky. “I lost your game Stockman! Are you happy now!?” Tears streamed down my face as my heart wretched.

“Y/n,” Mikey tried. “Are you sure you want us to—”

“Do it.” I gritted out, trying to hold back the cries that wanted to escape.

Rough fingers found mine. I waited for the yank and drag down to the ground. For his aggression. It didn’t come. Instead it an easy tug to spin. I didn’t dare to look up.

Gentle hands caressed each side of my face. My eyes flashed up knowing these were my last moments. He would snap my neck easy. Or maybe choke me. His golden eyes would be the last thing I saw.

His thumbs brushed away the tears that were streaming down my face. I didn’t understand the gesture.

I closed my eyes waiting for death. The relief from pain that riddled my chest. But it didn’t come.

Instead he came back. His lips were back on mine seemingly picking up where our last kiss left off. The cruel kiss.

Though this one was just as rough it wasn’t cruel any longer. It was emotional and bare and raw.

I opened my eyes in surprise but left it all to reckless abandon and curled my arms back around him as he pulled me closer. I could feel the warmth radiating off of him. I whimpered into his mouth and he hummed a response gently stroking my cheek as if to calm and reassure me.

My anxiety ran wild not knowing if this was him or the one who wanted to kill me. When his hand slipped down my arm and to my waist using the leverage to pull me flush against him, I decided it didn’t matter.

I loved Raphael and I’d be damned if I’d let him wanting to kill me hinder that love. I’d be damned if I let a stupid tattoo stop me from loving him.

I heard someone clear their throat obviously somewhere around us. It was hard to differentiate because everything in my mind was blurred by Raphael. Every touch, every breath, every stammering heartbeat.

He pulled away however, his hot pants fanning my face. Both of our eyes were still closed as we sat there, foreheads resting against another, panting.

“Tell me that was real,” I whispered. “Tell me or kill me,”

“That’s a bit dramatic don’t you think?” There was humor in his voice, a sly smirk on his lips.

“Raph!?” I gasped.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he grinned.

“Is it you? Please tell me it’s you,” There were tears in my eyes again. “I need it to be you,”

“It’s always been me hasn’t it?”

Though he said the words and they made sense in context I knew it wasn’t what he was referring to.

One of our first fights was because I refused to tell him anything about my tattoo. He saw right through my nonchalant lies and demanded to know who it was... I walked out instead of giving him an answer and it was about a week until I spoke to him again.

I nodded.

“It’s always been you,” I admitted defeat. “I’m so sorry Raph,” I whispered. 

“For?”

“What do you want me to apologize for? For kissing you? I’m sorry! For not letting you kill me? I’m sorry for that too! For ever having your stupid name on my arm!? I’m sorry! But I can’t apologize for loving you. Not anymore.”

“Baxter was right. You were never just family, Y/n,” He reached out and stroked my cheek. “You were always so much more than that.”

“Raphael don’t— don’t lie to me. Don’t play this game...” I whimpered, pulling away from him. 

“I’m not.”

“But how can... you don’t... I’m...” The cries that I had been holding back finally made their exodus.

“Will you stop crying and listen,” There was a slight tease to his voice, but it remained gentle.

I sniffed and looked up at him. He smiled, timid and unlatched the guard from his forearm and let it fall to the ground. He turned his arm over, palm up and I saw delicately etched into his skin...

My name.

“But... you said...” I wiped my eyes and took his arm, my fingers trailing over the letters of my name trying to make sense of it.

“I lied, I had to lie.” He tried.

“No, you didn’t.” My voice was hard and cold. “I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out why your name was on my arm and you had no tattoo! Do you know how scared I’ve been!? To know that I might lose you!? And you’ve kept this from me!?”

“Y/n, I’m... I’m sorry.” He whispered. “Please, believe me, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know...” 

I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Y/n,” It wasn’t Raph who pleaded to me, but Leo.

“Stay out of this,” Raph hissed.

“No, she needs to know,” Leo came up beside his brother. 

“Know what?” I asked hopelessly.

“It was my fault,” Leo spoke softly. “I’m the one who told him to lie... I gave him the order to. I wanted to keep you safe from us,”

“So, you lied to me? You made him lie to me?” I squeaked.

“We didn’t know Y/n, please,” Leo sighed. “Be mad at me, hate me, but don’t blame him. He just wanted to keep you safe”

My eyes met Raphael’s. I could see tears brimming into his eyes. This was it. What I decided to do would change... everything.

“Of course, I forgive you,” I whispered. “I love you Raphael, and God damn me for it, but I do,”

He let out a hopeless laugh and pulled me into a close hug, pressing his lips back to mine. I relaxed under his touch, melting into the kiss. It was slow and steady this time. We weren’t in any rush. The weight of the world didn’t depend on us.

He seemed to realize that too as he scooped me up into his arms, breaking the kiss and carrying me off towards my apartment.

“I really am sorry,” He murmured into my skin as we curled up in my bed. 

“I’m sorry too,” I whispered, stroking my name on his skin, marveling at it.

There were no walls between us now. We were bare to each other. No more dancing around the topic, no more stolen glances and awkward moments.

“When did you... tonight... the first kiss did it...?” I asked quietly. He smiled and stroked my hair.

“It did... by the time you pulled away, it was fading and all I could see was you... I clung to that. To you,”

I looked down and suppressed a smile, my cheeks flushing. His hand gently came up and tilted my chin back up so that I would look at him.

“Don’t hide from me,” He teased. “I love seeing you blush,”

“You make me do it so often,” I mumbled.

“I know,” He grinned smugly.

I made a face and stuck my tongue out at him. A playful growl left his lips.

“I think I told you not to do that,” He rolled over me, pinning me to the bed, holding his own weight so that all I felt was his warmth.

“Mmm. I think you told me to be careful about doing it,” I smirked, “but I’m done being careful around you,” I murmured, leaning up pressing a kiss to his lips.

He chuckled against my lips and followed me as I laid back, still kissing him. It was soft and slow, our breaths intermingling and our tongues figuring out how to dance with each other.

I small moan slipped from my throat as once again he consumed every thought and every sense I had. He matched my small moan with a light growl one of his hands trailing down my figure, sending a shiver down my spine—the other kept my hands pinned.

My breathing quickened and I had to pull away, my eyes meeting warm amber ones.

“You’re beautiful,” He murmured softly, pressing a kiss to my jaw. “Amazing,”—another kiss— “Smart,”—I turned my head to give him better leverage as he continued down my neck—“Sexy,”—kiss—“extraordinary,”—his tongue ran along my collar bone and a gasp escaped my lips— “and mine,”

.

.

Like my writing? Want more? Here’s my masterlist!