#i think this one is going to pierce through the gums soon...

[jungkookstatts]

Cherry Flavored

[Summary]: Your biker boyfriend takes you on a joyride.

[Theme]: Established realtionship!AU, Biker!JK

[Rating]: 18+, explicit content, oral (f receiving), spitting, dom!JK, riding, creampie, spanking

[Word Count]: 5,498

[A/N]: The biker verse has come to me in the new year. So has covid. But biker fantasies heal me. Enjoy! (P.s. thinking of doing a Tae fic soon??)

“Just, hold onto me,” Jungkook smiles. It’s a toothy grin, one that would usually send butterflies of affection straight to your tummy. His lip piercings shine like the metal around his fingers and ears, catching the midnight glow of the street lamps against them.

“There’s no seat belt,” you exhale.

“Of course,” he laughs a little. Brown hairs fall over his forehead with the soft force of his voice. You’re too nervous to move them out of the way like you usually would right now. “It’s a motorcycle, baby. I’m your seat belt.”

You laugh in disbelief.

“Kook, I’m not sure—” you begin, but he stops you. Cold hands cup your cheeks, his nose inches from yours. You can smell cherries on his breath, left over from the cherry flavored lollipop he bought from one of the gum ball machines at the entrance of the diner you just ate at.

“Baby,” he kisses your lips once. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you know that.”

You exhale against his lips, knowing his words are true. But still, your mind can’t help but evaluate all the “what ifs”.

“I’ll go slow,” he smiles softly. “No games.”

“Promise?” You search his eyes. You know he isn’t lying. He’d never play with your safety like that. He loves you too much. Such an over protective boyfriend. A big teddy bear at heart despite the piercings, tattoos, and loud motorcycle he has to his name. He’d never do anything to harm you.

“I promise,” he kisses you again. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you exhale. The boy smiles again. It shoves your nervous butterflies away and briefly replaces them with those affectionate butterflies you missed dearly.

“Good,” he kisses you deeper this time. You feel his pillowy lips against yours, sliding between your lips like they were made to be there. You almost grab his jaw to keep him against you. But he cuts the kiss short. The taste of cherries is left on your lips when he pulls away and grabs the spare helmet off the back of his bike.

“Put this on,” he hands it to you. It’s black and glossy and twice the size of your head. But you slide it on anyways, looking at your boyfriend through the tinted glasses of the helmet.

“How do I look?” You ask him.

Jungkook’s heart nearly flips. Who would have thought you’d be so cute with a helmet on? He did. You just confirmed it.

“Cold,” he settles with. Pulling of his biker jacket, he puts it over your shoulders. It’s night, and the air will only get colder once he starts riding. The jacket will provide extra protection if you fall, too. It’s thick exterior and interior act as a buffer against any surface. He doesn’t have a spare, but he’d risk himself for you on any occasion.

You slide the bulky sleeves up your arms, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the unfamiliar garment. It doesn’t really feel like a proper jacket, too stiff and thick to have on unless you were riding. 

“Now, the key is to just lean,” he puts his own helmet over his head, trying to refocus. You watch his tattooed fingers grasp the handle of the left side of his bike after he walks over to it. “And hold onto me. Tight.”

He swings a leg over his bike, situating himself. Cocking his head to the side, he signals to you to come over. You do as you’re told. 

With timid hands, you tightly hold onto his shoulder and hike yourself over his bike. It wobbles, and your heart skips a couple beats at the thought of falling. But Jungkook is calm, and you feel slightly reassured knowing he trusts the bike won’t do as you thought it would.

“H-How tight?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his waist. The softness of his t-shirt makes you feel better. Rather, the feeling of his body underneath your fingertips does. It’s soft and warm, but you feel the ridges of his abs as you test the tightness of your grip.

“Tighter,” he asks. You do.

He shakes his head. You see a wrinkle in his eye, knowing he’s smiling behind his helmet. With his rough hands, he grabs your own, tightening them himself around his waist.

“For dear life, Y/n,” he rubs your hands soothingly afterward. 

You nod, doing as he says. A raspy chuckle leaves his lips at the tightness of your grip. He pulls his biker gloves and his keys out of his pocket before putting them on. With a twist of his key, the bike comes to life with a loud roar, and you somehow grip him tighter. He wishes you could see the blush he has going on right now. It’s worthy of a few lines of humiliation you like to throw at him whenever he’s feeling flustered by you. 

“You ready?” He double checks.

You take a deep breath, telling him yes, which prompts him to lean the bike to the side and kick up the kickstand. He leans forward a little, and you move with him. With a flick of his wrist, you’re moving with him on his bike.

You feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The bike is moving! You’re gripping his t-shirt, probably some of his skin underneath, too, holding on for dear life like he instructed. 

“Kook!” You inhale, weary of the already fast approaching speed. Little do you know he’s barely made it to the local street speed limit.

“Trust me,” he tells you surely.

Looking at the sureness of his hands on the steering, the steadiness of his pace, you decide it’s time you really do. This is Jungkook. He wouldn’t let you backpack unless he knew he was sure enough to handle you as one, unless he knew you’d be safe with him as a rider. He’s been training for this moment. Never proposing the idea until recently, and you knew it was because he finally felt ready to be trusted with your safety.

You’re still a little nervous, but you’ve transferred most of that into your arms and hands. You hold onto him, wrapping your arms fully around his waist, leaning into his back as you let him guide you through the night. He’s guided you through many things in life. Your first tattoo, your first New Years kiss. Your first true love. You trust him with your soul. You love him with all of it, too.

Under his helmet, Jungkook smiles with content when you wrap your hands around him. You’re trusting him. He feels the weight of responsibility. But moreover, the excitement of showing you something he loves. Of showing someone he loves something he loves to do. Riding through the night with wind going against him. The motor of his bike propelling him forward as he rides under the stars. How he’s dreamed of taking you on one of his joyrides. Something in him knew you would like it. 

He goes faster, not daring to enter the highway on your first ride without your permission. But he goes through the local roads, hitting the exact speed of the speed limit given to him. Not going a unit over the number on the signs. You giggle when you realize, knowing the boy you hold onto usually does go a little over, even in the car. But the fact fills you with warmth that he wouldn’t dare play games with speed right now. Not with you on his back. 

After a certain point, you reach a red light, and he puts a foot on the ground to stabilize the bike at the stop.

“How do you like it?” He turns his head slightly to check in with you.

“I love it,” you smile. “I love you.”

His big heart skips, and he looks back at the time on the cross walk to see if he has enough time to kiss you silly from your confession. But you give him no time.

“You can go faster,” you scooch closer to him.

“You sure?” He looks back at you again. The red reflection of the light still beams on his helmet.

You nod. “Take me on the highway, Kook.”

Suddenly, the light turns green.

“Okay,” he shakes his head in disbelief. A small laugh erupts through his chest. When did you get so dauntless? “Better hold on, then.”

You squeal, doing as he says when he accelerates forward. He’s faster this time, still stable and not at all reckless. But the wind catches your clothes enough to know he’s going to do as promised.

The laughs that erupt from your body when he hits the highway is enough to solidify that he’s so totally going to kiss you so silly tonight. Maybe all night, if you’ll let him. 

He stays in the slow lane, going the minimum speed the highway gives, and yet you’re screaming joy and laughing relief out of your lungs as he guides you through the night. Just you and your biker boyfriend.

You trust him enough to take one hand away, letting your fingertips feel the wind of this summer night. But it’s interrupted after a while when Jungkook’s hand returns your own his waist. He pats the top of your palm a few times, telling you to behave, and you do. You hold him tighter, if that’s possible. Scooching closer to him as he finishes the ride off the highway.

The streets start to look familiar, the houses and street names ringing bells in your head. You’re sad to end the ride, honestly. Especially when he pulls up to his townhome, sliding into the parking spot right in front of it all a little too soon.

With steady hands, you sit up from your leaned position, still holding his waist, as he turns off the bike. Jungkook pulls off his helmet, brown messy hair falling around his ears from the release of the protective gear. There’s a bit of sweat forming at the base of his hairline, and you almost went to kiss it if it weren’t for your helmet. Before you can take it off, the man is already standing up, positioning himself in front of you to pull it off himself. You swing your leg around the bike, leaning your feet against the pavement as you stay seated. He stares down at you, tall and handsome as he awaits your approval.

“Well?” He tugs his lips upward. The piercings on his eyebrow dance as he raises it.

“I loved it,” you candor. “I kind of want to suck your cock right now.”

He laughs, crinkled nose and all. That nose nudges with yours when he kisses you. It’s slower than the pecks from before, when he was coaxing you into the joyride with him.

“That much?” He laughs. Those rough hands of his help you stand, the reminder of chest against yours only makes your heart flutter more. “Should have taken you sooner, then.”

“It was perfect, Kook,” you hold his jaw. “I really loved it.”

He looks at the stars in your eyes. The overwhelming presence of you in his biker jacket, holding his spare helmet in one hand and his jaw in the other. God, could you be any more perfect? He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

So he leans into you, holding the back of your neck as he sears his lips onto yours. He’s still cherry flavored, and you can taste it surely when he dips his tongue into your mouth. You envelope it warmly, kissing him with all the love you have. Except you wish you could feel more of him, have his skin against yours. You want the hand that holds his helmet to hold your waist. For your own hand that holds his spare to run through his hair. You want to be on his lap, to look at him from above, sweaty hair and brown eyes. 

He seems to read your mind, detaching your lips only slightly when he whispers against them, “Do you want to go in?”

You nod, watching him smile knowingly. It’s one of those smiles he gives when he’s shy, when he feels bashful and is receiving more attention than he’s used to. It’s one of his cutest smiles to-date. The desire to jump his bones is stronger than it’s been all night.

You follow him as he walks up to the door. He takes your helmet from his hand and balances it on his finger like he does with his own. The key turns, and the smell of his apartment fills your lungs. It smells like him. Like man, but better. A strange thing to think about, as you never associated “man” with smelling good. But he does, somehow. He smells like home. 

You follow in suit, taking your shoes off as he does the same when hooking your helmets on his biking rack next to his door. You lock it for him, and he smiles back at you in a quick thanks.

Quickly, you tread in front of him, becoming taller as you leave him in the shoe divot in front of the door.

“So does this mean you’ll let me take you on a few of my joyrides, then?” he asks you.

“You can take me on all of them if you want to,” you promise.

He comes up to you, destroying the height confidence you had from before when he steps up from the shoe divot.

“I love you,” he cups your jaw with both of his hands this time. Puffy lips connect with yours, they’re hot and slightly damp, firmly kissing you. Passion presses your back against the wall, his frame engulfing your body in love and lust as he kisses you. You can only return the favor, sliding your hands up his clothed chest. He breaks his grasp on your jaw when your hands slide around his neck, prompting him to replace his hands underneath your thighs instead. With no effort at all, as if you weigh a feather in his strong arms, he lifts you around his waist.

The new angle allows you to kiss him deeper, your hand securing around his neck and shoulder. Big hands hold your waist and back. He walks with you, messing around through his apartment, taking you to his bedroom by pure muscle memory as he’s too distracted by the smell your clothes against his skin to focus on anything else. 

For a second, his hand leaves your back to push open his door. The lamp on his bedside table is still on, something he forgot to turn off when he left to meet you at the diner with your friend and her date earlier.

Gently, almost as if you were made of glass, he lays you on his sheets. You still have his biker jacket on, and he swears it’s never looked better on anyone else.

“Biker looks good on you,” he says, admiring you from above.

“Want me to leave it on?” You suggest, an eyebrow raise up at him.

You visibly see his cheeks turn red, and you have your answer before he can even say it. 

“You don’t have to,” he denies. But you’re already sliding it off, taking your shirt and bra underneath before bringing the jacket over your shoulder again and zipping it up halfway.

He looks at you, bewildered and so terribly infatuated before he hides his face in his palm and groans. He’s so unbelievably flustered and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You’re going to kill me, Y/n,” he muffles in his hand. 

You almost say something, but he’s already trapping your frame underneath his, searing his lips onto the skin of your neck. He bites and sucks at your skin, marking you in his purple and blue love bites. You can’t get enough, tilting your head for more, which he gladly gives you.

You pant lustfully in response when he hits your sweet spot. His lips are delicate at first when he comes across the territory he’s memorized so well. But you know better than to think that he’d stay that way. Not when he knows how it causes you to slide your hands in his hair and pull at his scalp in the way he likes best. Not when he knows you’ll react with the breathy moans he loves so much that flow from your lips at the slightest kiss. So he does just that, feeling your back arch into his chest and your fingers tangle in his hair when he plays with your pleasure. 

“Jungkook,” you flutter. His lips feel so good, like they were made to make you feel like this. 

He kisses down your neck, coming to the base of the zipper you left done halfway up the jacket. Slowly, he unzips it, watching the fabric part ways as gravity takes it to the sides of the bed. The jacket doesn’t completely reveal your breasts though, so he takes matters into his own hands and cups them from underneath.

His stare makes you feel shy, and you inhale sharply when his thumbs brush over your nipples slightly. The reaction makes you even more shy, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand to hide the small moans that leave your mouth.

“So pretty,” he looks up at you. 

You tug at the rim of his t-shirt, begging him to take it off as you lay open chested below him. He only chuckles at the realization, seeing that he’s still fully clothed, way too preoccupied with you to take care of himself.

He does as you ask and more, tugging off his t-shirt and his jeans, leaving him in only his boxers. You feel a wave of slick come through your panties at the sight. Tattoos and muscles stare back at you. You try to ignore the halfy he’s sporting in his boxers, a pure reminder of the activities you wanted to give to him as a thank you for taking you for a ride on his bike.

But he’s quick to turn you down when you sit up to do just that, hiking his fingers under your pants and sliding them down along with your underwear. He throws them somewhere on his floor, falling to his knees to admire you.

“Oh honey,” he marvels at the sight, sliding a slender finger gently up your folds. “You’re soaked.”

You whimper against the back of your hand.

“I-I wanted to suck you off,” you protest, placing a hand on his wrist. Not because you necessarily want him to stop, but because you were scared about how good his touch feels already. “As a thank you.”

“What for, baby?” He stops playing with you, his spare hand cups your thigh. Soothingly, his thumb rubs against your skin, waiting for your answer. 

“For letting me ride with you,” you respond.

“You don’t need me to thank me for that, sweetheart,” he smiles gently. “I’d allow you to ride with me any time you want. I need to thank you for trusting me enough to want to,” he takes your hand in his. Those big doe eyes capture yours, asking for permission with stars in his eyes. “Will you let me?”

Fuck, will this man be the end of you. Of course you will, you’re basically leaking infront of his face.

You nod, and he shyly smiles again. The hand that had previously slipped up your folds springs to life again. This time, it circles your entrance gently, causing you to whimper into your skin. Hot lips envelope your clit, his tongue playing with you softly.

“K-Kook,” you gasp at the feeling. He only hums, his eyes closing when he applies more pressure into your leaking heat. The vibrations from his moans against your clit cause you to arch your back, your head falling back against the sheets when his fingers play in tandem with his tongue. They tempt over your cunt, circling your hole and gathering your juices just enough to make you go crazy.

He detaches his mouth for a brief moment, his lips covered in your heat, red with lust, as he watches you squirm when he replaces his thumb with his tongue over your clit. His mouth always does wonders, but something about his thumb against that ball of nerves makes you clutch onto your orgasm for dear life. It’s firm against you, not too harsh, but just enough to make you feel all of it when he circles it slowly underneath his thumb. Jungkook pulls your hips closer to the edge of the bed, completely in control as you let him thank you. He watches you carefully as he inserts a finger into your aching pussy, seeing how you gasp and grab onto his wrist. But he’s stronger than you, and you’re fully aware of that. You also don’t want him to stop—your grasping onto him a mere reaction for support.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He asks you. He’s so gentle, always so cautious at first. You know at one point he’ll become a sex demon and ram you into the sheets. But he’s being a sweetheart right now, wanting to coax an orgasm or two out of you first. He does it right.

“Mhm,” you solidify. Your answer is weak, too taken over by the sliding of his finger against your walls. 

“Do you want my mouth?” He asks. You know he’s asking permission, well too aware that the combo is a recipe for an orgasm.

“Y-yes, please,” you give it to him.

He chuckles at your polite response, although it takes over his desire in ways that he’s struggling to control. You’re just so sweet to him, always so perfect in every way. He couldn’t ask for anything more. You’re perfect. And you’re his. 

He replaces his thumb with his mouth again, this time moving faster than before. His pace quickens, and he adds another finger to your dripping cunt. The feeling makes you dig your fingers into his hair, pressing him against your pussy. It gets him high, moaning against your cunt shyly as he curls his fingers against your g-spot.

“Jungkook, m’ gonna cum,” you whine into air. Both your hands secure his head on your mound, as if he’d leave before you finish.

He feels you clench around his fingers, so damn tight his cock twitches in his boxers embarrassingly. But he ignores it, taking his mouth off your cunt to give you his thumb again. The change makes you arch your back, the coil in your tummy slowly unraveling beneath him.

“There you go,” he coaxes you. “Good girl.” 

You gush at the nickname. White heat flows around his fingers, and he replaces them with his tongue as you finish against his lips. The sensation is almost too much, your over sensitivity making you whimper and close your thighs around his head to stop him.

“K-Koo,” you whine. “Sensitive.”

He finishes up at your request, swallowing your release sweetly. He leaves you gently to stand up, tossing his boxers somewhere on the floor. You’re left to catch your breath, an arm over your eyes as you gasp into the air of his bedroom. Only when you feel his familiar frame tower over you again do you look up. You’re met with a sweaty man with wet lips and a lovestuck smile plastered on his features.

“You okay?” He kisses your forehead.

“Mm,” is all you have the strength to say.

You feel his thumb pry your mouth open.

“Open for me,” he asks you anyways. You mewl when you see him gathering spit in his mouth. He transfers it to you rudely, and you feel you might just cum again from the sheer force of it. He’s so hot, you feel overwhelmed.

You feel it enough to gain the strength to flip him over when he’s off guard, straddling his hips with his biker jacket on your shoulders.

“What’s this?” He grabs your waist. God, you look so good in his clothes.

“Let me give you a ride this time, Kookie,” you suggest.

He swears he’s never heard anything hotter in his life. It makes his dick leak with precum, your suggestion paired with his favorite girl in his favorite jacket ontop of him.

Your soft hands lay on his chest for support as you lift up your hips. He helps you, grabbing your waist with his big hands. You grab his cock, so big and just for you, lining it up with your wet cunt. You slide it in with a small gasp of your lips, and you swear you see his eyes roll back slightly at the feeling.

“Oh,” you softly gasp as he fills you up. The stretch is so good from this angle, filling every inch of your walls up to the brim. You feel all of him, and he can feel all of you, too. You know it with the way he grips your hips, telling you to give him a minute when you reach the base.

You give him just that, before you test the waters again and start a pace. 

“Fuck,” he tilts his head back. You riding him is an entirely different sensation, his thighs slack and your ass bouncing on his cock as you use him for pleasure. You feel so good, you always feel so good. So perfect for him. 

“Koo,” you mewl as your hands plant for support just below his rib cage. Your hips move perfectly, bouncing on his cock like it’s your day job. It’s exhausting, but it feels too good to stop. You won’t until it’s too much, until you can’t do it anymore.

You see why Jungkook likes to be on top most the time. The view from this angle is sickening. You see the sweat coming down from his scalp and neck. It begs to make entry into his forehead, and you hope at one point it does. Brown hair flops and lays over his skin and the sheets blow him. His Adams apple bobs every time he moans and swallows. You see every scar, mole, and blush this man presents to you. You feel entirely privileged that he is all yours.

He catches you staring, his big hands that you love so much cup your thighs on either side of his hips.

You feel sweaty in his jacket, already knowing it probably smells like sex and sweat already. You feel flush from the heat, and he seems to take note, coming up to hug around your waist with one arm and push off the jacket with the other. His legs dangle over the edge of the bed, supporting you on his lap as the jacket falls to the floor.

“So pretty,” he hums against your lips. His cock throbs inside of you, and you beg for friction, pushing your knees against the mattress and sliding up and down ontop of him again. “You like this, huh? You like fucking my cock?”

“Yes,” you whine against his neck. You feel like a horny teenager, unable to get enough of the man beneath you.

“So needy, baby,” he helps your pace with his hands on your hips. It’s quicker, making you dig your fingers into his scalp as you moan against his neck. “You like riding me? Tell me which one you like to ride more, my bike or my cock. Hm?”

“Y-You,” you respond almost immediately. But he doesn’t seem to like your answer, his hand landing a harsh slap against your ass that causes you to dig your nails into his shoulder.

“I can’t hear you, baby,” he kisses your neck.

You somehow muster the strength to face him again, your hips changing direction slightly to rock back and forth against him. It makes your cheeks feel numb and your fingers tingly, his dick pressing against your g-spot so delicately.

You nudge your nose against his, his cherry flavored lips ever so slightly touching yours.

“You,” you repeat. “I like to ride you more than anything.”

That seems to do it for him, your short ride of dominance ended as his lips take you over. He kisses you until he’s got you in your back again, his body obsessed with your own.

“So perfect for me,” he kisses you. “Let me fuck you good, yeah? My perfect baby.”

You can only nod, ready to come back to your throne as pillow princess. Your boyfriend takes your thighs, hiking them up around his back before he rams into you.

He fucks you like he’s in heat, needy and overwhelmed. His tip hits you in all the right places, causing you to arch your back into his chest. You scratch at his tattoos, chanting his name against his neck as he makes you feel good over and over again.

“J-Jungkook,” you gasp. You try to say your words, but you’re hit with euphoria with every thrust he delivers into your body. “Koo, I-“

“I know, baby,” he shushes you, a kiss to your cheek. “Just cum for me, hm?” He suggests.

“C-Close,” you tell him. The man seems to know your body more than you know it yourself, his lips reattaching to your sweet spot so delicately, it doesn’t match up at all with the way his hips piston into you. “Jungkook,” you gasp when he sucks there. The familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach returns, and you feel warm throughout your entire body.

With his hair in your face, lips on your neck, and hands caging your body beneath his, you tighten around his cock, unraveling for the second time underneath the man above you.

You feel him twitch, knowing he’s not that far behind you. He moans so sweetly against your neck when you tighten around him, his hips losing rhythm as you cum on his dick.

“Sso tight,” he groans against your neck. “I-Is inside okay?”

“Y-Yes,” you sigh against his ear. You’re so fucked out, so obsessed with him. You really don’t know if there’s a request out of his cherry lips you can deny.

“Oh, ah—“ he grips the sheets, balling them up in his fists. “M’ gonna cum.”

You simply run your hand through his hair, gripping it strongly as he thrusts harshly inside you. It overstimulates you, and you pant his name against his scalp as his seed spills out of you in hot, thick ropes. His moans are like music to your ears. So breathy and sweet. You swear you’ve never heard anything more lovely in your life.

The two of you calm down, your sweaty bodies absolutely filthy with summer night air, the smell of motorcycle exhaust, sex, sweat, and cum. It starts to make you cringe after a while. Ever the attentive one, your boyfriend notices and comes up from his place by your neck.

He gives you a soft smile before pecking your lips gently.

“I’ll start the shower,” he offers, pecking your lips again.

You let him leave you for a few seconds. Feeling cold and bare, you get up and search for your clothes. But you’re unable to find them, probably kicked somewhere underneath the bed. You only see Jungkook’s t-shirt and his jacket from before. So you slide the t-shirt over your head, feeling giddy again with the smell of him engulfing your senses.

With sore legs and an aching core, you walk over to the bathroom, hugging your man from behind like you did on his bike just an hour ago.

“This is my favorite part,” you start, holding him tighter.

“Hugging me?” He asks.

“Mhm,” you confirm.

You feel him laugh a bit in your arms, turning around in them only to poke at your frown.

“I like to hold you close. Especially when you go fast suddenly and I get a little scared,” you look up at him.

The shower mist fills up the mirror, and the heat lulls you into the feeling of sleepiness his aftercare always gives you.

“I never want to scare you,” he kisses your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you lean into his palm, his hand holding your face close as he kisses your swollen lips softly.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up,” he cups your hips.

You open your eyes, watching him eye the shirt you’re wearing.

“Seriously, baby, you gotta stop wearing my clothes,” he slides his t-shirt over your head. “It’s doing things to me.”

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll wear your biker suit then,” you wiggle your eyebrows.

“Now that would murder me.”

***

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]

#jk #jeon #jungkook #jeongguk #jeonjungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkookxreader #jungkook x y/n #jungkookxy/n #jungkook fanfiction #jungkookfanfiction #bts fanfiction #btsfanfiction #bts fanfic #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jungkookimagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x female reader #jungkookxfemalereader #jungkook smut #jungkooksmut #btsimagine #jungkookoneshot #buts smut #bts x reader #bts x y/n

[xzaddyzanakinx]

I Crybaby I part three

Mean Punk/Grunge Anakin × Naive Femme Reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: demeaning comments, crude behavior, aggression toward reader, hurt/comfort

Info: Anakin is an ass, like no joke he's really mean. Pierced and tatted Ani, he plays the drums, annoying rude neighbor, modern AU (90's), he might be mean now but I promise he is changing

Smut is coming soon! Be on the look out for the next chapter.

NOT PROOFREAD

You woke up in a panic, sulked on your drive to work, suffered through the day at the diner, and drove home with an anxiously churning stomach.

You paced the floors of your living room and kitchen, you’d already called Marie three times and had stopped yourself from sprinting to the wall phone once again. She offered to come help, but you’d refused, saying she’d already done so much for you. Besides this was something you felt like you had to do on your own, Anakin was nosy, he’d definitely take notice of a stranger visiting your house.

He had already tried to rip your shopping bag of makeup from your hands, insisting he needed to see inside. Stating that he was better at it than you anyway, you could benefit from a lesson or two. At this point you would’ve considered taking him up on the offer if you knew it wouldn’t ruin your plan.

You’d never so much as owned black eyeshadow, and Anakin did wear it often. You closed your eyes and tried to picture the way it looked in your head, then thought better of it. That would be creepy right? Copying his look?

So instead you settled on clumsily going through the motions of your transformation with the company of girls from Marie’s magazines. You’d ripped them out and hastily stuck them to your bathroom mirror with gum.

You braided your hair and looped some silver hoops in it just like one of the girls who was modeling a very painful looking choker necklace. The girls were all wearing heavy makeup, and your attempts had all turned out miserably, so you went back to the magazines and flipped through until you found the perfect reference.

A skinny boy in a fishnet shirt had on subtle and simple looking makeup, you could handle that, it should be easy… right? Digging through your grocery bag of new eyeshadows you selected a black eyeshadow palette that had a gorgeous little square of greyish sparkles.

You tried over and over again until your eyelids felt raw, with a frustrated cry you slammed the palette down onto the counter, effectively cracking the clear plastic lid.

“Great!” You huffed, “just great.” You began scraping up the fallen black powder with your bare hands, being interrupted by the phone ringing.

You screeched in surprise, the abrasive and shrill noise always startled you. The floor was slick under your fuzzy pink socks as you rushed to the kitchen wall phone. You sniffled, tears of frustration forming as you slipped and almost fell, swiping at them without thinking.

“Hello?” You croaked.

“What’re you doing?” The voice on the other line laughed.

“Anakin?” You questioned in surprise.

“Obviously.” He huffed, you could visualize his eyes rolling in annoyance. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Why do you want to know?” You shot back.

“Your bathroom window is wide open and you’ve been banging around in there for the last hour.” He grumbled.

“I’ll close it.” You huffed.

“What’re you doing?” He asked again.

“Nothing!” You said loudly, “it’s not your business.”

“Well sorry for trying to make sure you weren’t being murdered.” He retorted, starting to speak again.

“Listen. I’m busy. I’ll close the window.” You started to hang up, but stopped when you heard him shouting.

“Hey! Wait a second! God, you’re impatient.” He grumbled, “I won’t be home tonight, so if you’re going on some shitty date don’t count on me to rescue you alright?”

“Got it.” You said through gritted teeth.

With that you hung up, bringing the heels of your palms to dig into your tired eyes. Was this worth it? What was that phone call? Was he looking through your window or did he somehow hear you another way? Were you just that loud?

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face before sucking in a sharp breath. The phone was covered in black power and as you looked down you realized your hands were too.

“Shit!” You spit out, stomping to the bathroom sink and staring at yourself in the mirror.

You looked a mess, your whole face streaked with eyeshadow. Angrily your wet a towel and scrubbed off the makeup from your cheeks and nose, washing you hands and then grabbing your makeup remover for a more gentle approach on your already irritated eyes.

But when you looked back at yourself, you realized it wasn’t all that bad. It actually looked kind of good? Maybe the trick was using your fingers instead of a brush, maybe just cleaning it up around the edges would fix it. You could salvage this as long as you stayed calm… probably.

First things first though you went and shut the window, closing the curtains before returning to your task.

Thirty minutes later you had penciled eyeliner and tinted lip gloss to go along with your surprisingly nice eyeshadow. You were proud, you looked good, you - felt - good.

You headed back to the kitchen, pulling out the scissors from the knife block, it was time to cut off shirt. You slipped it on over your bralette, pinching the fabric at the spot you wanted to cut along the midriff. Snipping a tiny hole there before moving to your shoulders and repeating the process.

Once the snips were put in place you lifted the shirt up and over your head again, cutting off the places you’d marked. The sleeves were gone, along with a good portion of the fabric that would normally hug your sides, the bralette peaking out from under the shirt. The new hem hit just above your belly button, the breeze from the fan tickling your skin.

You slipped on the ripped baggy jeans complete with your homemade rips and tears before allowing yourself to slump to the floor. You had about a hour to kill, you didn’t want to be extremely late and you didn’t want to be early so you planned to arrive about fifteen minutes after start time. You wanted to be able to sneak in and find a spot among the crowd until you were comfortable enough to make your way to the front.

You heard the pop and crack of Anakin’s car starting and the tell-tale sign of him leaving could be heard as he screeched out of his driveway. Another glance at the clock showed only 5 minutes had passed. You couldn’t just idly sit there, it was excruciating to wait for something you were so anxious for.

You stood up, deciding to stop at the gas station up the road and grabbed a bottle of Pepsi before heading off to your destination. That would kill some time, the old man behind the register always talked to much, you needed gas anyway. Smiling at your new plan you rushed to grab your keys and small wallet.

You pulled in at the warehouse and saw it was absolutely packed with cars, people milling about, smoking, music playing through speakers from a CD you didn’t recognize. You jogged inside, taking in the scene. It was incredible. The people were all so different, it was interesting to see so many kinds of people all mixed together in one place, interacting as if they all knew each other.

You weaved your way in a dense spot at the tail end of crowd just as Anakin and his band walked on the makeshift stage.

You could feel your heart race as you caught sight of Anakin, his usually gelled hair was shaggy and moving with attitude as he stepped onto the stage with his bandmates. The crowd erupted with cheers, as the front man introduced them all, the excitement and anticipation from the crowd palpable in the air.

He took his seat at his drum kit, his tongue poking out in concentration while twirling his drum sticks. It shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was, it wasn’t your fault that he exuded a magnetism that was hard to ignore.

The band began to play, a heavy wave of guitar and pounding drums filling the warehouse. The low growl of the lead singer was much more intense in person than what you had heard on CD’s.

You found yourself struck with awe, your eyes locked on Anakin. The way he thrashed about, fully immersed in the music, was both powerful and mesmerizing. It was as if he had tapped into something primal, expressing his raw emotions through each beat of the drum. It was something you’d never seen from him before, he was so focused, so in his element.

In your stupor you failed to see a younger man stumble your way after shoulder checking another person. He fell into you and immediately apologized, laughing at himself. He quickly realized you weren’t laughing along with him, in fact you looked quite miffed.

"Hey! First time?" He asked and you nodded quickly with eyes wide, he laughed and pulled you into a nearby group of people. They showed you what to do, shared the unspoken rules of events such as this and it was exhilarating.

You’d never have imagined yourself enjoying something as chaotic as this, but here you were, soaking it all in with enthusiasm. Laughter and excitement filled the space as they showed you the ropes, guiding you through the chaos of the wall to wall mosh pit. It was an exhilarating experience, completely freeing and liberating. You laughed and let go, surrendering to the atmosphere that surrounded you.

As the music reverberated through the warehouse, the room alive with pulsating energy. Each beat of Anakin's drumsticks echoed in perfect synchrony with the crowd's wild enthusiasm. You couldn't tear your eyes away as he effortlessly commanded the drums, his body moving wildly with the rhythm.

After bidding farewell to your newfound friends, you found yourself gradually making your way to the front, eager to witness Anakin's performance up close. The sight of him sent bolts of anticipation shooting through your veins. You smiled widely, unable to contain the surging energy bubbling within your chest.

The song reached its crescendo, the crowd roared their approval, their cheers crashing against the walls. Anakin's drumming intensified, his body drenched in sweat, his passion tangible in every stroke. It was a breathtaking sight, even more so when you realized he was playing some parts with his eyes closed. Facial muscles twitching occasionally with the effort of keeping himself on track.

They wasted no time in jumping into another song, and another, and another. It was bewildering to see how much effort it took to play with such intensity up close. How could they all keep up? How could Anakin not be exhausted already? He was throwing his entire being into beating those drums and making it look completely effortless despite the sweat dripping from his forehead.

The show had ended but the people hadn’t dispersed as much as you would’ve liked. You maneuvered through the crowd, heart sinking at the sight of Anakin surrounded by a group of girls vying for his attention. His eyes met yours, and you felt hopeful for just a moment, before reality crashed down on you as he turned away. Jealousy twisted in your gut, and you found yourself hesitating, unsure of what to do next. Should you wait and try to speak to him, or should you walk away, heart heavy with disappointment?

Feeling a mix of frustration and defeat, you took a step back, hiding in the shadows of taller people, observing from a safe distance. Anakin seemed disinterested in the attention, his eyes scanning the crowd as if searching for something--or someone.

But the sight of those girls clinging to him, vying for a moment of his time, stirred a sense of unease within you.

As you weighed your options, a new wave of frustration washed over you. You couldn't bear to watch any longer, feeling the sting of jealousy and insecurity gnawing at your confidence. With a pout, you turned on your heel and walked away, deciding that it was probably better to leave and nurse your wounded pride in solitude.

The journey back to the car felt heavy, each step punctuated by the weight of disappointment that pressed against your chest. It was only when you felt the cool metal of the car door beneath your clammy fingertips that you finally allowed the emotions to consume you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, their droplets tracing a path down your reddened cheeks as you crumpled into an emotional wreck. Sobs wracked your body, unleashing pent-up frustrations mingling with the raw ache of rejection. It was an agonizing release, the culmination of disappointment and longing that had been building within you. In that moment of vulnerability, you allowed yourself to grieve the connection you so desperately wanted but felt slipping through your fingers.

As time ticked by, the tears slowly subsided, leaving behind a sense of exhaustion and resignation. You wiped your cheeks, the dampness lingering as a reminder of your emotional unraveling. With a heavy sigh, you started the engine and prepared to drive away. Wanting nothing more than to escape the ache that lingered in the air.

By the time you shifted into drive there were even more people leaving the venue, the parking lot getting empty. You sighed, pulling out of the parking lot and speeding home.

"Great." You rolled your eyes and sniffled, Anakin had beat you home, he was standing on his front porch smoking a cigarette, shirtless.

His shirtless form glistened under the porch light, his sweaty t-shirt hanging haphazardly over the railing. You couldn't help but feel vulnerable in his presence. You sniffled, still fighting back the remnants of tears, as you stepped out of the car and closed the door with a soft thud.

"Bad date?" Anakin shouted, snickering.

"Guess you could say that." Under the cover of darkness he couldn't see your clothes and for that you were thankful.

You knew you would have to walk quickly so you could get into the house before he saw your clothes under the porch light. So you ran up your driveway and jogged up your steps.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" He barked out laughing.

He couldn't see the full outfit from this angle, just the tattered t-shirt.

"Stop it." You shouted, trying not to cry again as you fumbled with the keys.

His laugh filled the air as he witnessed you clumsily struggling in your disheveled state, the pain in his eyes masked by his laughter tinged with a touch of cruelty. Your heart sank further, emotions teetering on the edge of overwhelming you once more.

"Does baby need a hug?" He asked teasingly, hopping down from the second to last step of his porch and making his way to you.

"Stop it Anakin," You pleaded, desperation lacing your words as you dropped the keys.

You groaned, scooping them up hurriedly, desperate to get inside. But it was too late. Anakin was walking up the steps, taking in every detail of your very out of character clothes.

"What the fuck is this?” He asked pointing at the clothes with a confused expression.

"Stop. You're just gonna be mean." You said back.

Anakin's features softened, an uncharacteristic flicker of concern crossing his face. His fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to reach out and offer comfort.

You took a step back, heart pounding in your chest. You’d had seen the glimpses of his softer side, his capacity for care buried beneath layers of cynicism. But in that moment, you couldn't allow yourself to hope. His previous toxic behaviors and hurtful words echoed in your mind, urging you to protect yourself.

"Where were you?" Anakin's gaze remained fixed on you, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Where were you?" You shot back hoping that the venom in your voice would convey your disappointment.

He didn't recognize you at his gig. After you tried so hard to impress him, now he was here making fun of you for dressing this way.

You could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to piece together the puzzle before him. But when his silence stretched on, your frustration grew.

"Where were you?" You asked again sharply.

You wanted him to feel the sting of disappointment, to understand the effort you had put into the night, only to be met with ridicule. You had hoped to impress him at his gig, to have him notice you, and now he stood before you mocking the very choices you had made to catch his eye.

Anakin's brows furrowed even deeper, a hint of remorse flickering across his features. He was adept at hiding his emotions, but in that moment, you saw a glimpse of regret in his eyes.

"You were at the gig, weren't you?" His tone had lost its earlier teasing edge, replaced instead by a heavy mix of confusion and realization.

A wave of emotions washed over you-disappointment, hurt, and even a tinge of anger. You had gone out of your way to support him, to be present in a world that wasn't yours, just for him. And in return, he didn’t even recognize you.

"It's doesn't matter if I was does it?" You asked, wiping your eyes.

He leaned in closer, the subtle scent of his Marlboro cigarettes mingling with the hint of his cologne and sweat. His voice, now gentle and sincere, reached your ears like a soothing melody.

"No, it does matter," he replied, his voice laced with regret.

"It's okay. I get it, I know what you're gonna say. I look dumb, I look like I'm trying to hard, I shouldn’t have even come to your show.” You sniffled, tugging at your shirt that now felt so uncomfortable.

Anakin's face fell as he listened to your words, sensing the insecurity and self-doubt that had clouded your thoughts.

"You don't look dumb. I didn't mean to make you feel that way." He ran his hands through hair, his tongue playing with his lip piercings.

“You don’t even look like yourself babydoll.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he sounded upset.

"But-" You had finally stopped crying and then your voice broke once again. "I thought you'd like it if I dressed like I belonged there."

He let out a low sigh, his fingers absently playing with the chain on his pants as he searched for the right words.

"I get why you did it, darlin'," he said, his voice gentle yet tinged with self-reproach. "You wanted to fit in. But listen, you don't have to change who you are for anyone, especially not me."

He stepped towards you, still not looking up.

"Its not that you don't look good, you do, you always do. But I know it's not you. You only wore that because of me. I don't want that, YOU don’t want that.” He sighed and finally looked into your eyes.

"I was looking for my pretty princess in a pink dress." He whispered, his hand coming up to your cheek.

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @cherrylooney @star611 @tahliac11 @exquisit3corpse @jeldog @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @lilliethefairy @slut-4-ani @offthethirlwall @slutforhayden @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @no1klet @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes

Click here to add yourself to the tag list! (Comment an emoji)

#anakin smut #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #sw anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x you #star wars #darth vader #darth vader smut #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #darth vader x you #darth vader x reader #star wars fanfiction

[glass-dahlia]

Sierra

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x gn!Reader

Word Count: 17.8k

Warnings: Swearing, cannon typical violence, concussion, use of y/n, mention of eating, (let me know if I missed anything)

Summary: Lloyd Hansen could and would kill anyone for enough money. Well- maybe not anyone. Seems someone sparked his interest back in the day. What a coincidence that they happen to be meeting again.

A/N: I posted this fic already on Wattpad (under a different username, SpideyPeterTingle), I just decided to start writing on Tumblr because why not. Requests are open, I just don’t write desciptive smut

Masterlist

Your breathing refuses to calm as screams pierce through the air. You can practically feel his pain just by hearing it. You shut your eyes tight, not that it does anything in the lightless room you woke up in.

“See, I really don’t know what to say. I mean, you go against your mission? Snoop where you shouldn’t? This is what you can expect, bud,” you hear a smooth, unbothered voice speak up. More exclamations of pain follow. Quite honestly, you’d rather not know what’s happening. Instead, you place your focus on escaping your restraints like you had been taught.

Soon enough, but after what seems like an eternity, the screams have subsided and the silence is blaring in your head. Footsteps approach the room you’re in. You let out a quiet, shaky breath. Pressing yourself against the wall at the side where the door will open, you hear a slight click as the door is unlocked. The second you see the shadowed figure of the creep that brought you here, you throw a punch, only for him to catch your fist and immediately grab your other wrist. His strong grip keeps you from freeing yourself, despite your struggles against him.

“Not so fast, sunshine,” he hums flirtatiously, almost making you gag, “play your cards right, and I might just let you walk out of here. Can’t say the same for your friend there though,” he chuckles darkly.

“Fuck you,” you seethe and knee him directly in the groin, causing him to double over in pain and lose his grip on you.

“Charming offer, but that’s not quite how you do it,” he musters out through the pain.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

“Look, Five, you know Sierras work solo, you have no grounds to ask for a partner,” Fitz sighs as he looks at you.

“I don’t give a shit, just please try, I need to know he’s ok. And honestly, he’d kick ass at this,” you insist, starting to get desperate. You know if anyone has your back, it’s Fitz.

“The things I do for you,” he concedes with a sigh as he turns to his computer to begin his search as he types in the name. 

‘Courtland Gentry’. The older brother you thought you’d never see again. 

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

Leaning against the wall, shadows hide your face from his view. The only sounds that fill the room are the jangle of his chains and the snap as you pop the gum in your mouth.

He breaks the silence first, “If this is about Winky’s Cantina, I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

You smile to yourself slightly as Fitz assures him, “It’s not about Winky’s Cantina.”

“I like honey buns as much as the next guy. I’m not gonna gouge your eye out for one. You gonna write that down?” Court nods to a notepad on the table, keeping his eyes on Fitz.

“I’m not gonna write anything down.”

Court looks over at you slightly, trying to see who you are, but getting nowhere thanks to the lighting.

“You want some gum?” Fitz offers him, regaining his attention.

Court leans in, “What kind you got?”

Fitz takes the gum out of his pocket to read the label. “‘Bubblicious Watermelon Wave’. What do you say?”

“There is no other kind,” Court says with a slight shrug, reaching his hand out as much as the cuffs allow. Fitz slides the pack across the table to him. Court starts to unwrap a piece before placing it back on the table with more force than necessary. “If you think I’m gonna rat somebody out for Bubblicious, you got another thing coming to you. Watermelon or not.”

“It is pretty good though,” you offer with a smile evident in your voice. Court looks over at you and smiles, slightly amused.

“‘Courtland Gentry’,” Fitz begins to read his file, “‘Born 1980. Incarcerated 1995. Eligible for parole in 2031,’” he closes the file as Court looks back at him. “You got quite a long way to go, son.”

“There’s an upside to sleeping so close to your toilet,” he shrugs nonchalantly, popping the piece of gum in his mouth.

“I get it. You’re glib. So were they,” Fitz nods back to you. 

You walk over and sit in an extra chair next to him, feeling eyes on you. You look across the table at Court who squints slightly at you, trying to figure out what that means and who you are. In his defense, it has been years and you’ve both grown up.

“Well, I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” Fitz continues, “My name is Donald Fitzroy, and I’m here to commute your sentence.”

“You’re gonna commute my sentence?”

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

“When I get out of this chair and we walk out of this prison,” he looks at you briefly, “you’ll walk with us.”

“Who are you, my fairy godmother?” Court laughs, not quite believing Fitz. “No offense, I thought you’d look different.”

“I may be. We’ll see.”

“What’s the catch?”

“There’s always a catch,” you add and Court’s eyes shoot back to you, this time with a glint of realization and recognition. You smile slightly.

“You work for us. With Y/n,” Fitz informs him.

“Y/n?” Court’s voice is quiet and you nod in confirmation.

“I missed you, a lot has happened without you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles in relief at finally seeing you again, “I guess it has. So who- who’s ‘us’?” he looks between you and Fitz.

“The CIA,” you state.

“We’re gonna train you to kill bad guys,” Fitz adds, “and since you’ve already killed one, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You notice Court’s light hearted and joking persona drops slightly, “What makes you think I wanna do it again?”

“Because I personally requested you as a partner. You fit the type anyways, Court.”

“You’d be part of an elite unit with Y/n, the Sierra program,” Fitz says, “you would exist in the gray.”

“Disposable?” Court all but scoffs at that idea, worrying you that he won’t agree.

“I’ve worked with Y/n for a few years now. I know why you pulled that trigger,” Court’s eyes go back to you protectively as Fitz speaks, “I would’ve done the same thing myself. Now, I’m here to help you become a value-add instead of value lost. So why don’t you take all the pain or whatever the hell got you here, turn it around, and make it useful?”

Court hesitates for a few moments, looking down slightly to contemplate the decision before looking over at you again, seemingly making his choice, and looking back to Fitz.

“How long do I gotta work for you?” he asks.

“Let’s just say you’d be indefinitely useful.”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

Bangkok, eighteen years later…

You look around from your seat with Court beside you. All you have to do is wait for the signal that your target has arrived, take him out, and mission accomplished. They didn’t like to tell you much about your missions anyways. It helps keep your morals out of it, you don’t get the luxury of making your own judgements you figured.

You look over at Court and he just gives you a slight shrug and smile, knowing you’re not a big fan of the waiting period. It makes you feel useless and vulnerable. You smile back at him and chuckle lightly. With all the bright colors and lights surrounding you, the bright red suit he adorns provides an oddly fitting source of camouflage. You opted for the blue suit, they didn’t exactly offer any more muted color choices.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as you see Dani Miranda come into your line of view with a floral suit. Very spiffy.

“Do you need anything?” she asks nonchalantly.

Court shakes his head, tossing a piece of gum in his mouth, “No, we’re good.”

“Nice suits,” Dani states.

“Back at you,” you smirk slightly, “though we just wear what they tell us to.”

“Subtle,” she smiles slightly at you. You two had always gotten along well.

“You’re no fly on the wall yourself,” Court adds as Dani places what appears to be a plastic water gun on the table. She slides it forward to him. “I don’t have a permit,” he jokes.

“It’s not that kind of party,” Dani responds before walking away.

“You look really hot!” you call after her as Court picks up the water gun. You swear you could see her laugh slightly as she disappeared into the crowd.

“Well, if you’re done flirting,” Court trails off as he tosses his napkin onto the table, having finished whatever horderve he grabbed earlier.

“You’re just jealous that I’m the hot sibling,” you tease as you both get up and start walking to where you were told to go.

“Oh, and how has that worked out exactly? You’ve dated how many people?” he prys playfulls, spinning the water gun on his finger as you walk down a dimly lit hall. You both know the answer is zero.

“Shut up,” you mumble as you halt once you reach the door. He glances down the hall briefly as he holds the water gun to a sensor. It beeps as the door unlocks and you follow him inside.

As the door shuts behind you, Court sheds his jacket and removes a sheet from a box containing the scoped rifle. You look above the room, through the mostly opaque glass to see the outlines of footsteps and shadows above you. You can hear the dull murmur of the party guests talking and the vague bass of the music above.

“Five, Six, you copy?” a voice rings through your earpieces. Court doesn’t respond and just gives you an exasperated look at their constant need to babysit the both of you. It gets old fast.

‘Five, Six, you copy?’ you mouth mockingly, rolling your eyes and earning a light chuckle from your brother.

“Five. Six,” the agent repeats, more serious.

“Five and Six, copy,” you reply, watching Court fine tune the rifle. 

“Five, Six, this is Denny Carmichael, your center chief,” a new voice says, “Our target, code name ‘Dining Car’, is selling information that could severely compromise national security. We need him eliminated before that transaction is complete. Am I understood?”

“Understood,” Court replies and you nod slightly.

“‘Could severely compromise national security’,” you whisper to Court before mouthing a silent ‘woooow’. He rolls his eyes slightly, but you catch the smile before he turns away.

“I have eyes on Dining Car. Target imminent,” Denny speaks once more.

Court moves the curtains back slightly to get a glimpse outside as you remain focused on watching the feet and shadows above.

“Dining Car has security,” Denny informs you both, “Stay the plan.”

“When do they not have security?” you mutter mostly to yourself.

Court readies the scope rifle, turning on an infrared camera and walking over to your side.

“He’s coming up on you now. He’s almost to you,” Denny states.

You move forward slightly, Court following you. You point up when you spot your target and Court aims the rifle, readying to fire. You keep an eye on the floors between as Court lines up his shot, hearing chatter through your earpieces from the floors above. You pick up some of your target’s conversation to confirm it’s him.

“Target acquired,” Court mutters slightly, a toothpick between his lips muffling his voice just slightly.

“Execute,” Denny confirms.

A crash above draws your attention and you quickly grab Court’s arm once you hear a voice. He glances at you and moves his finger off the trigger. You point to your earpiece with your free hand, telling him to listen as you both hear a child’s voice speaking in thai. He looks back up but doesn’t shoot as you continue to hold onto his arm.

“Five, Six, why am I not hearing anything?” Denny asks, beginning to get impatient.

“We’re picking up collateral. There’s a kid near the mark,” you respond.

“You’re cleared for collateral,” Denny snips shortly, “Go loud.”

You grip Court’s arm slightly tighter, starting to worry about what will happen. You may have done some things other people would call you a monster for, but you liked to think you had your morals straight. That you were on the right side.

“We have a very small window to take out a very bad dude. Go loud,” Denny pushes.

You let go of Court as you hear the crowd begin to count down. He moves around the room, trying to find an angle that will avoid collateral. Especially a child. When the countdown hits one and cheers erupt, Court looks at you and puts the rifle down.

“Standby,” he says to the agents on the other end of your earpieces. You smile slightly and nod, proud that he too kept his morals in check.

“Do not stand by,” Denny objects.

“Gun jammed,” Court says nonchalantly as he smacks the infrared sensor on the rifle down and walks to put it away, clearly pissed that anyone would approve moving forward despite avoidable collateral.

You follow Court out of the room quickly, pulling the fire alarm on your way. The lights go out as the alarm blares once you reenter the main room. 

“Five, was that you?” Dani asks through the earpiece, knowing your style when something goes wrong. You don’t respond. “Five? Six?”

You walk past a crowd exiting and you seamlessly pull a pin from a woman’s hair. Without even bothering to turn towards him, you jab one of Dining Car’s security personnel in the neck and continue walking as he instantly collapses. Court takes another out with a knife off a nearby plate. You smash a glass bottle over another’s head.

“You know, I learned that one from dad!” you say loud enough for Court to hear. He shakes his head, getting another with the knife.

Screams have erupted all around you. You hear gunshots somewhere behind you and quickly assume it’s Dani. Court takes on two more guys, shooting at them and taking them hand to hand when needed. You shoot a third that Dining Car uses as a human shield. He throws his human shield out the window, shattering the glass, and jumps out after him. You run after him and jump, Court following a moment after.

You smack Dining Car with a metal pipe you landed near. He reciprocates with a punch to your jaw. He attempts to bring out a gun, but you grab his hands in yours to keep the gun pointed away from you. You quickly unclip the magazine, letting it slide to the ground and away from you both. Court, having just landed and gotten to you, places a foot on the magazine so Dining Car can’t grab it back.

Your target smiles slightly, impressed by your skills and preferring to not jump to hand to hand combat. He throws the gun into the distance as Court kicks the magazine farther, glancing at you to check that you're ok. You shift your lower jaw slightly, trying to get rid of the tension from the punch. It was solid, you’d give him that. Sparks fall around you as fireworks go off.

“You know, I know who you two are,” your target says. “You’re Sierra Five,” he nods to you, “and Sierra Six,” he nods to Court. You both remain silent, slightly shocked at this, not that you’d show it. “They didn’t tell you who I am, did they?”

“They never do,” Court admits.

“I’m Sierra Four. They sent you out to kill one of your own. That’s probably not gonna make you walk away, is it?”

You glance at Court slightly as your target, Sierra Four, takes off his suit coat and tosses it aside.

“Probably not,” Court shakes his head.

Sierra Four clenches his fist before suddenly lunging forward at the two of you. He swings for Court first, but Court dodges, hitting Four in the side. Four grabs Court’s arm, elbowing him in the side and tossing him back. You jump in, throwing a punch towards his throat, but he manages to catch your hand. You use his focus on your missed punch to your advantage and knee him right in the crotch, a favorite move of yours. Court gets up, tackling him towards a firework about to go off, holding his head over it as it does. They struggle and Four begins to get the upper hand, so you jump in, tackling him to the side and freeing Court. You tussle as he backs you against some pipes, landing a few punches that you try to dodge but don’t quite manage to. Before he lands a more damaging punch, Court rams him off of you, knocking him off balance and getting the upper hand. He stabs Four with a sharp piece of debris he found, ending the fight.

You walk over to Court’s side and give him a slight nod to let him know you’ll be ok, if a little bruised. Or a lot of bruises. What else is new?

“If you’re Sierra, who recruited you?” Court asks.

“Fitzroy,” Four breathes out, “same as both of you.”

“Where’d you train?” you cut in.

“Dark site. Tel Aviv. Same as you two. I got all the answers ‘cause I’m telling the truth. They’re not.”

Court doesn’t react, instead cleaning the blood from the debris he used to stab Four. You just look down slightly. You hadn’t exactly liked Carmichael all that much. Or at all.

“Denny Carmichael is a piece of shit. That’s why I’m sitting here in my own blood. You two are probably next.”

You look at Court as he chucks the debris as far off as he can, still refusing to respond with any form of reaction to Four’s words. You look back at Four as he reaches to take off his necklace with a shaky hand.

“Take this,” his voice becomes very breathy, you can tell he doesn’t have long. “And bring the bastard down.” He holds out the necklace, hand shaking.

“I don’t want it,” Court insists.

“You trust Carmichael? Just take it. Please.”

“No, I don’t,” you grab the necklace before Court can interject, “There, I took it, happy, everyone?”

“You give ‘em hell,” Four smiles slightly before his ragged breathing stops and an eerie stillness engulfs him.

You take in a deep breath and hold it, looking over at Court, not knowing what to do next. He has the same unsure look in his eyes and glances at the necklace in your hands. You look down at it as well, noticing it seems to have two halves. You hear footsteps and close your hand into a fist around the necklace to hide it.

Dani slowly approaches with her gun at the ready, “Very discreet.”

“I thought this’d be cleaner,” Court retorts slightly.

Dani approaches Four’s body, still with her gun at the ready just in case, to check his vitals. “It wasn’t,” she states simply. She reaches up to her ear piece to inform the agents on the other end of the status of the mission, “We’re Romeo.”

“He said he was Sierra,” you speak up, clutching the necklace tighter in your fist.

“That wasn’t in the mission folder,” Dani glances at you.

“He knew who we were,” you add on.

Dani grabs her phone from her pocket, sending a picture of your target to confirm you’ve succeeded in your mission. “Maybe he had access to stolen intel,” she offers halfheartedly.

Court looks down slightly, “We’re Sierra. There is no intel.”

Dani just looks over at you two and Court promptly turns and begins to walk away. You glance at Dani briefly before following Court.

You follow Court through a crowd of pedestrians as police cars slowly part the crowd, heading towards the building. Fireworks pop in the distance and you feel your heart racing as you try to wrap your head around what just happened. Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by Court’s phone buzzing in his pocket. He answers and you turn up the volume of your earpiece to hear what he’s hearing.

“Six,” Court answers, continuing to walk.

“Wanna explain whatever that was?” you hear Denny Carmichael’s stern tone.

“Gun jammed,” Court sticks to the excuse he used earlier. He looks over his shoulder and nods to you to let you know the coast is currently clear and you aren’t being followed.

“That doesn’t qualify as an explanation.”

“Maybe on a secure line.”

“I need a status report. Insecure line. Did the target say anything to you or Five?”

“Well, he was dead, so, you know, no.”

You look at the necklace still clutched in your hand and gently pop the top off, revealing some type of drive. You look at Court and show him what you found.

“What about pocket litter? Did you get anything off his body?” Carmichael prys further, getting no response. “Six, did he have anything on his person that you or Five now have that you’d like to give to me?”

“Who was he?” Court asks, avoiding the question as you close the necklace, slipping it into your pocket.

“A bad guy.”

“Carrying?”

“Bad shit.”

Court looks back at you, trying to decide what you can do, what your options are. You shake your head slightly, not wanting to play along in whatever game Carmichael is leading.

“Last chance, Six. Same goes for Five.” “Understood,” Court hangs up the call.

You look across the street and spot a store. Figuring you’re both forced to go on the run now, you head over to get some new clothes with the spare cash you have on you. A blue suit isn’t going to continue to keep you hidden.

“Hey,” you hear Court call to someone near him, “You a 42 regular?”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

Surrounded by indistinct chatter in a mix of Thai and English as those around you focus on their video games, you sit down at a computer. You slip the drive in the port and open it as Court walks over to stand behind your chair, watching over your shoulder and keeping an eye out for the both of you.

Files pop up on your screen along with pictures of Carmichael. When you click on anything, it asks you to enter an authentication key. With only three attempts available, you decide to not press your luck. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

“Yeah,” you answer, leaning back in the chair. Court leans forward so he can hear enough without you putting the call on speaker.

“Wheels up in five. Carmichael’s been calling,” Dani speaks on the other end.

“We spoke. You should go without us.”

“You sure you wanna do that? Both of you? What happened with the target, Five? Tell me what I don’t know,” she pressed gently. “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” you mutter slightly before hanging up.

Court takes the drive out of the port of the computer and you hand him the necklace. He places the drive safely back inside and puts it in the pocket of his newly acquired track suit. He places his phone on the table next to the computer and you follow suit, ditching yours as well.

“No way in Hell we get it right in three tries. We do know someone who will though,” he starts walking off with you following at his side.

“You got a plan?” you ask.

“Enough of one at least. Any idea where we can get a couple of masks?”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

You and Court pause in an alleyway, far enough from anyone else to keep a conversation private as he places a call on a burner phone you just got with your remaining cash. He places the call on speaker, only loud enough for you to both hear.

“Max’s Fireplace and Barbecue,” the familiar voice answers.

“You Max?” Court asks.

“There is no Max,” Fitz responds.

“So it's like ‘to the max’?” you ask, smiling slightly.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” you question.

“Because if something went wrong, I couldn’t blame Max.”

“How you doing, Fitz?” Court jumps back into the conversation.

“It’s good to hear from you two.”

“How’s life in retirement?” Court begins with some small talk.

“I’m headed to a funeral. Putting a friend in the ground. I’m getting to that age, you know? You two working?”

“We were,” you respond.

“Got loud?”

“It got loud. Got real weird too. You know that guy that handed you your walking papers?”

“Yeah, Carmichael.”

“Well, brace yourself, but, uh, he might be sideways,” Court states.

“Might be?” you tease, earning a slight eye roll from Court.

“I’m shocked,” Fitz responds in monotone, “What’s your gut?”

“My gut? It’s gonna be our funerals you’re going to next,” you state quite bluntly.

“Give me an hour to find a local extraction team. Get mobile. You may have to hustle.”

You look around, spotting an unmanned taxi. You walk over and Court follows, taking the phone off speaker as you hotwire the taxi effortlessly.

“Let me ask you a question,” Court says to Fitz, “Four have a scar on his right chin?”

You move to the passenger seat and look at Court once you’ve gotten the taxi started.

“They just had me stick a fork in him,” Court informs Fitz, getting into the drivers’ seat. “Some foreign op bullshit,” he continues on the phone, “You know they don’t tell us much. He gave us something they really want.”

You lean back against your seat, feeling tired.

“No. Somewhere safe.”

You nod to the phone and Court puts it back on speaker for you to hear.

“Well, I’ll do some checking. I still have friends up the food chain. Where are ya?”

“Bangkok,” you reply tiredly.

“There’s an airfield near Chiang Mai. Get to it. Watch your backs. Take care of each other.”

“Always,” you smile slightly.

“You too,” Court adds, knowing Fitz could be putting himself in danger with this. “Hey, Fitz. I know there wasn’t some palm trees 401k plan for either of us here,” he looks at you, “but, uh, I mean, at least tell me you guys had some kind of exit strategy.” “We never got that far, kid,” Fitz replies, sounding defeated. You sigh lightly and just nod your head slightly. “And now, probably not.”

“Got it.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be in touch.”

“Beats being on the wrong side of the bars,” Court admits before hanging up the call.

You stifle a yawn as Court begins to drive.

“I’ll wake you if I’m too tired to drive anymore. Get some rest, we’ve got a rough road ahead,” Court states gently, keeping his eyes on the road.

“No shit,” you mutter, leaning your head back and closing your eyes.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

You’re woken up as you feel the taxi come to a stop. You squint against the bright light of the sun that’s now up. Court gets out of the taxi and you follow his lead as armed men cautiously surround you with guns at the ready. Court stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks forward to one of the men.

“You our ride?” he asks.

“Identity challenge. Heathen,” the man responds.

“Response, hermit,” Court replies without hesitation.

After a glance at the armed man that just checked out your taxi, the man holds his hand out to Court. Court reaches forward for a handshake, but the man pulls back his hand with a laugh as Court looks disappointed in himself for falling for that. You chuckle as he stuffs his hand back in his pocket.

“Need anything?” the man asks, looking at both of you.

“Just a nap,” Court shrugs as he walks towards the plane.

“A massage and cocktail would be nice, but I’m guessing we aren’t flying first class,” you smile as you earn a hearty laugh from the man before following Court onto the plane.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

Court is asleep next to you with his head rested against a metal divider, slightly separating sections of the plane. Your head is rested against his arm and you have your eyes shut, not wanting to fully fall back asleep, but wanting rest. You hear a phone ring, but decide to remain still with your eyes closed.

“Yeah” the man that joked with you earlier answers the phone. You obviously can’t hear the other end of the conversation, so you put all your focus on the man’s responses.

“Mhmm,” a pause, “Come again?” you squeeze Court’s arm slightly to wake him up and you feel him stir slightly. “Roger that.”

An uncomfortable silence falls over the plane apart from the music playing over the speakers which increases in volume. You feel Court move briefly before stilling again as you faintly hear footsteps approaching you. They stop just to the side of you and you open your eyes as you feel Court’s sudden movement. He sprays both men that had approached you with a fire extinguisher before jumping up and hitting one in the gut with the extinguisher. You get up, delivering a swift kick to the same location on the other man. Court spins around, continuing to take men out with the fire extinguisher. You grab a parachute pack, swinging it to smack guys’ heads to knock them out.

Grabbing a flare, Court lights it and uses it to draw some men away from you, taking them on himself. With their lowered visibility from the flare, Court takes them out easily with a few skillful punches.

You kick the gun out of another guy’s hand, leading to you both diving for it and grabbing it at the same time. You use your grip on the gun to angle it away from yourself, but the man fires. It hits a gas tank that quickly catches fire and explodes, creating a gaping hole in the side of the plane.

As air is whipped out of the plane, an announcement can be heard overhead warning of a sudden pressure drop and advising you to put on oxygen masks. You manage to make your way to Court and he grabs your arm, pulling you towards the side of the plane where he’s holding onto a bar with his other arm, using that hand to hold on an oxygen mask. You grip onto the bar next to him, shoving an oxygen mask quickly over your nose and mouth and taking a few deep breaths.

You look over at Court, but suddenly a man tackles you from behind, causing you to lose your grip and begin falling towards the hole. You regain your stance much better than he does as he falls to the hole, gripping the remaining bar at the top of the hole. Finding a broken pipe near your feet, you swing it at his hands, forcing him to lose his grip and let go, being dragged out the hole.

Court slides down to you with your parachute pack from earlier. You both grab onto the bar as you feel yourselves begin to be lifted off the floor as the plane drops. You both grab oxygen masks and you catch your breath again. When the plane manages to pull up to a horizontal position again, Court gets into a scuffle with another man which ends with that man being whisked out of the hole and straight into one of the jets.

The hole suddenly begins to widen as more of the side of the plane is ripped away. You glance at Court and he quickly nods to you. With the slight footing you have left, you jump from the plane, managing to slip the parachute pack on as you fall and opening it just in time. You try to look up at the increasingly more destroyed plane that’s plummeting to the earth to try to spot Court, but your parachute blocks most of your view.

The moment your feet touch the sandy ground beneath you, you unstrap yourself from the parachute. You move under a large and stable rock to avoid being hit with any falling debris as you hold your breath slightly, waiting for Court.

You suddenly see a pair of feet above you and to the left as a parachute gets caught on the large rock. Court hops down from the dead man dangling off the rock like it was nothing.

“I guess you didn’t choose to drop by in style,” you tease as he walks over to where you’re sitting.

“What more style can you ask for?” he sits next to you.

“Ok, seriously though, what the fuck was that?”

“That’s what I want to find out,” he pulls out his phone, quickly hitting redial.

“Hello,” Fitz answers.

“It’s us.” “Where are you?”

“Emotionally? I think we’ve both been better,” Court replies sarcastically.

“The extraction team?”

You glance up at the dead man hanging from his parachute on the rock above you and Court. “They’ve been better too,” Court sighs.

“Are you okay? Either of you hurt?” Fitz sounds slightly concerned as he hasn’t heard from you yet.

Court looks at you, but you stay quiet and let him speak. “You know what, Fitz? I’m trying to figure out what answer it is that you want.”

“They leveraged me, kid. They have my niece. You hear me?”

“Hold on. You’re breaking up,” Court holds the phone at arms length and mutters so only you would hear, “shit.”

You run a hand down your face and huff lightly. You glance at the phone as Fitz repeats ‘hello’ trying to see if he lost your connection. You purse your lips slightly as you begin to get an idea of who would use extreme tactics to find the two of you like this.

“Okay, there you are,” Court brings the phone back in front of the two of you, “Sounds like you’re in a real pickle, Fitz.”

“Put him on,” you suddenly state firmly. Court gives you a confused look, but you hear Fitz’s phone being handed off.

“Hey, sunshine. Good to hear your voice again,” Lloyd’s familiar voice responds on the line.

“Lloyd Hansen. To what do we owe the displeasure?” you sneer, taking the phone from Court’s hand as he gets more confused.

“So feisty,” Lloyd retorts with more than a hint of flirtation in his tone, “I’m the one running this op.”

“What op?”

“The one where I get exactly what I want,” he pauses slightly and you can practically hear the smirk in his tone as he adds, “and maybe a little more, Five.”

You choose to ignore his flirting, not that it isn’t at least mildly entertaining to you, “I’m a little unclear as to what that is.”

“Okay, that’s fair. Well, Five, why don’t you come on in, and we can chat? My assistant will get lunch. You like sushi?”

“No, I’m good. I just had some Skittles,” you reply sarcastically.

“Tell you what. Why don’t we skip lunch, you can give me the asset you and Six stole, I won’t chop your heads off, and uh we can have that chat afterwards?”

“When you say things like ‘chop your heads off’, it makes you sound untrustworthy. That’s a big turn off, Lloyd. So, even if we had this thing, I’m not sure I would give it to you.”

“Oh I think you would. See, your old COS here has drawn way outside the lines, Headquarters needs a scapegoat, and his neck is just about the right size.”

“Fitz is a big boy. He knows what business he’s in.”

Lloyd just hums in response, clearly not happy that you’re making this more difficult for him. “And what about having that chat, hm? I’m told I’m a great conversationalist,” he not so subtly continues the innuendo.

“Hey, Lloyd,” Court cuts in, not wanting to hear more of the flirting.

“Yeah?”

“I immediately don’t like you.” You laugh lightly at Court’s bluntness.

“Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Lloyd responds before Court hangs up the call.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

“Looks like you overplayed your hand,” Fitz chides Lloyd in the van after the call ends.

Lloyd wordlessly turns, opening the door to his left and tossing the phone out of the moving vehicle. He slams the door shut and turns back to Fitz. “Looks like you need a new phone,” he states.

“Let me give you a word of advice, Lloyd,” Fitz leans forward as Lloyd hums for him to continue, “They say that life in its most unadorned expression is a battle of wills. Five and Six? Their wills, each one their own, are preternatural compared to yours. You’re taking them on teamed up.”

Lloyd delivers a swift, sudden kick to Fitz’s face. Fitz grunts in pain, leaning back into his seat.

“Don’t say ‘preternatural’ to me. It’s an asshole word.”

“You’re a child.”

“A child that’s about to put a hit so big on your kiddos' heads that even their most loyal allies won’t hesitate to drop a dime. Every grade-A wet team from here to Reykjavik will be vying to the prestige of killing the infamous Sierra Five and Six. I’ll dig up every safe house they’ve ever stayed in. I’ll unearth every man or woman either of them have ever slept with. They won’t be able to walk ten feet without getting their heads blown off. And that, Don, is exactly what bad ethics and zero impulse control will get you. I can kill anybody.”

“Maybe not anybody.”

“Well, we’ll see.”

“Five has seen. They’re still around, so-” before Fitz can finish, Lloyd clenches his jaw and swiftly kicks him in the face again.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

Court and you sit side by side on the floor of a train compartment to avoid notice. Court eats his share of the food you two scrounged up before getting on the train as you just stare blankly at the door. He glances at you.

“So you know that Lloyd Hansen guy?” he asks.

“Yeah, he’s not someone you want to be up against.”

Court stays silent, waiting for you to explain further.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

It was your early days in the field with the Sierra program. You were new and Sierra Four had recently gone MIA. Headquarters needed some foreign intelligence. Sierra Three was sent to retrieve it as you were told you weren’t ready for such a high profile mission.

You ignored them and followed after Three unnoticed. He was the only other Sierra agent you had contact with as he had helped you in training.

“You’re an idiot to want to sneak onto a mission like this, you know they’d lose their shit if they found out you followed me,” he had said when you followed him to his hotel.

“Then you’d better not let them know I’m here,” you shrugged, earning a slight smile from Three.

“Fine,” he finally conceded after plenty of convincing. You had always thought you’d work best with a partner anyways. Knowing someone would have your back and you doing the same for them.

Neither of you could have known the mission was a set up. Three had stepped out of line one too many times in the eyes of the CIA, and he needed to be disposed of. Before you could even begin what Three had been told the mission was, you were both knocked out by mercenaries Lloyd had hired.

You woke up in a lightless room alone, ankles and wrists bound securely.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Lloyd chimed as he walked in the room, “I have to admit, I wasn’t told Three here had a sidekick. Though I can see why he’d keep you around, you are pretty tough, they said you put up a good fight before they knocked you out. Not to mention attractive,” he smirked at the last part, slowly scanning you up and down.

You did your best not to react, though you felt your face involuntarily heat up. You watched Lloyd as he stopped in front of you. You began to look away, but he quickly grabbed your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look up at him. Not a bad sight, you’d have to admit to yourself.

“So what’s your deal?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not his sidekick, that’s the deal.”

“Then you’d better start talking, Sunshine, because your clock is ticking.”

You huffed lightly, trying to pull against your restraints, but realizing you wouldn’t get anywhere with him in the room. “I wasn’t supposed to be on the mission. No one else knows I came. They call me Sierra Five.”

“Well, Five, how sure are you that no one knows you’re here?” he pried, letting go of your jaw and starting to pace as you swore you saw him soften just slightly.

“Absolutely certain,” you watch him, feeling an odd sense of disappointment at the sudden lack of contact.

He shook his head slightly and let out a sigh before looking back at you. You could practically hear your heart racing as you both held eye contact. You were broken out of your trace when he cursed under his breath and abruptly left the room, locking the door behind him.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

“He killed Three?” Court asks. You just nod, still feeling like you can hear his screams echoing in the space around you. “But why leave you? If he wanted to kill you, he had the perfect opportunity. I mean, if he’s this ruthless mercenary for hire, why would it make a difference to him?”

“No clue,” you yawn, leaning into Court’s side.

“I guess he just likes you.” “I wasn’t his target, though I guess if he really wanted to keep me from escaping, he would have. But he didn’t.”

“Exactly.”

You just shrug it off slightly as you drift off to sleep, not wanting to admit you might have feelings for the man paid to kill you.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

Two years earlier

Court and you sat side by side in a CIA station in London. Across from you was Fitz and Margaret, a woman from the CIA that worked closely with Fitz.

“Fitz, tell them why they’re here,” the woman instructed, gesturing to the both of you with a cigarette between two fingers.

With a slight sigh, he began, “Okay. I have a niece that I’m raising. I know what line of work I’m in. I want the kid to have a normal life, and Margaret’s helped me give her one,” he nodded to the woman across from you.

“Any number of nefarious assholes would like to see him and his family dead.”

“Is there a point to this story?” Court glanced between Margaret and Fitz.

“Someone in the DC office has accidentally leaked Fitz’s address in Hong Kong.”“‘Accidentally’?” you repeated skeptically.

“Bunch of idiots,” Fitz shook his head.

“Indeed,” Margaret agreed, “We’ve asked for agency security, but for some curious reason, Denny Carmichael won’t supply it.”

You rolled your eyes at the name. The whole situation didn’t sit right for obvious reasons.

“Fitz is starting a mission in Brazil tomorrow,” Margaret continued, “which means you two are going to babysit.”

“Your niece?” you looked at Fitz.

He nodded and began to explain, “My brother and his wife died about three years ago, and to top it off, Claire was born with a heart condition. Last month we put in a pacemaker, and since then, she’s been in and out of Mount St. Mary’s.”

“Poor thing got dealt a brutal hand,” Margaret added.

Court looked between Fitz and Margaret, still a bit confused, “You guys taught us how to kill people, not care for them.”

“You don’t have to care. Just keep her alive.”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

Claire’s nanny showed you and Court through Fitz’s house in Hong Kong and brought you both to Claire’s room.

“Claire, dear,” she spoke, “this is Five and Six. They’ll be looking after the house while Donald is away.”

Court hardly paid attention to the introduction, scanning around to have an idea of the layout of the house and possible weak spots. You did the same, noticing that Claire wasn’t looking anyways.

“Just the two exits?” you looked at the nanny.

“Yes. That’s right.”

You walked over to look out the window next to Claire’s bed as she was looking through her Polaroid camera. “Five and Six are odd names,” she spoke up without looking directly at either of you.

“Yeah,” Court sighed with a nod, “yeah. Just, uh, 007 was taken, so.”

You chuckled and Claire looked over at Court, “Are you chewing gum?”

Court looked slightly taken aback and just looked at her for a moment before replying, “Yep.”

“We don’t chew gum in this house.”

Court didn’t really know how to respond and looked at you for help, so you stepped in and smiled slightly at Claire, “He wasn’t briefed. I’ll keep him in line.”

“I’m older than you,” Court tried to argue, but went quiet at the shutter of Claire’s camera as she took a picture of the two of you.

Claire smiled as the picture printed from the camera.

“Um, ok,” Court trailed off, not sure what to do or say, “Well, we will try to stay out of your way.”

“Do you mind?” you looked at Claire and gestured to the Polaroid picture, asking to take it, “May I?”

She shrugged slightly, “Sure.”

You took the picture, placing it in the back pocket of your pants, “Thanks. Nice to meet you.”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

“You have a nice house,” you said, sitting on a poolside chair near Claire to keep an eye on her while Court patrolled around the house.

“Thanks,” she shrugged slightly and looked over at you, away from her phone.

You nodded as the awkward silence fell over you, neither of you sure how to continue the conversation.

“There’s not a lot of stability in the line of work Six and I are in. Never in one place too long, definitely never settling anywhere,” you said, looking over at the pool water dancing gently in the wind.

“Do you get to visit your family? Or friends? Between your missions?” she sat up more, interested in hearing more about your job.

“Don’t have any. Just Six at this point,” you trailed off slightly.

“I don’t really have other friends either,” she admitted, “too risky to be going out on my own. For multiple reasons.”

You nodded understandingly as you heard footsteps approaching. You didn’t bother looking away from the water, knowing Court’s gait. Claire went back to her game on her phone.

Court rounded the corner, stopping when he saw you and Claire. She looked up from her phone and you glanced over, earning an awkward, quick wave from Court.

“Excuse me,” he turned and started to walk off, not wanting to invade your space.

“Looking for your jacket?” Claire called after him. He turned back to the both of you and she continued, “Looks like I sat on it,” she raised her leg to show it under her and chuckled lightly.

You smiled slightly as Court walked over, “Is that a secure phone?” he asked and pointed to the phone in her hands.

“Just got the high score,” she showed him the screen briefly, “I had a lot of time to practice after the operation. They made me stay in bed.”

Court didn’t give much of a response, years of training to kill after being in prison most of your early life really didn’t help your social skills.

“‘How long they make you stay in bed for?’” she asked aloud for him, “Quite a long time. Several weeks, actually. ‘Oh, hope you’re okay.’ Better now, Six. Thanks for asking. How’s your time been here? Enjoying the grounds? ‘Oh, they’re lovely. I like to walk in circles and stare at my shoes.’”

“Can I get that jacket?”

Claire sighed at her inability to break through with him and handed over the jacket. “You know, Five is more fun to talk to.”

“I know,” he took the jacket from her.

“Like your tattoo,” she complimented, noticing it as he reached for the jacket because his sleeves were slightly rolled up. “Where’d you get it? Prison?”

“Yeah, actually,” he sighed as he slipped the jacket back on.

“I’m shocked,” she mused sarcastically. He shrugged slightly, beginning to walk away. “What’s it mean, the writing?”

“Oh it’s, you know” he turned back around, “it’s a guy’s name in Greek.”

“What guy?”

“Just a guy. You know, trying to get a rock up a hill.”

“Why?”

“They made him.”

“Who made him?”

“The gods.”

“Did they need a rock?”

“They were just trying to punish him, I think.”

“Did he deserve it?”

“Probably.”

“Did he like it?”

“Probably not.”

“So why’d he do it?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Court smiled slightly at her.

“You’re quite the conversationalist,” she replied with her signature sarcasm.

“I’m gonna get back to work,” Court turned to leave once more, but again was stopped by a ‘hey’ from Claire and turned back to her.

“Does he ever get to the top of the hill?”

Court let out a humorless chuckle, “I’ll let you know.”

Before Court could walk off again, you grabbed his arm, “He will make it because he isn’t in it alone.”

Court smiled slightly, “You know, I think you’re right.”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

You shined the hazy beam of your flashlight down the hall that was in front of you as you walked. You peaked into each room on either side of you to scan for any threats. You got to the front door to see the nanny getting in her car to go out. From your location, the house was almost silent apart from the air conditioning running.

“Five!” a sudden shout from Court broke the silence as you heard his running footsteps, sounding heavier than usual. As you turned to see what was wrong, you saw him turn the corner and run towards you and the front door with a barely breathing Claire in arm. Without hesitation, you ran out the front door ahead of them, quickly getting in the driver’s seat of the nearest car.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

“She’s stabilized. Tell Donald there was a programming glitch. We were able to repair it, non-invasive,” the doctor informed Claire’s nanny, “The remote system flagged it ten minutes before they pulled up. We can keep track of her pacemaker from just about anywhere.”

“Thank you, I’ll let him know,” the nanny left the room quickly to call Fitz.

Court stood against the door frame as you sat in a chair nearby. Both of you kept an eye on Claire as the machines around her produced a steady beeping. She looked over, exhausted, and gave a sign of the horns gesture and a nod to reassure you both that she’d be okay.

You smiled slightly while Court gave her a nod back.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

Back at the house, Court monitored the security cameras around the property on a secure laptop. Claire sat with the both of you at a dining table, eating a bowl of ice cream.

“You feeling better?” Court asked without taking his eyes off the computer screen.

Claire gave a small shrug. “Just another Thursday,” she said with a sigh, “Donald says this is the best medicine, ice cream. Tend to agree.”

“He’s a very smart man,” you nod in agreement.

“Only family I got.”

“Closest thing to family we’ve got too, apart from each other.”

“Maybe that kind of makes us family.”

You and Claire both noticed the slight smile spread across Court’s face, but you could tell something was wrong when his eyes snapped back to the camera footage and the smile fell.

“I think it kind of does,” you mused, “but I think you should get to bed.”

Claire’s nanny walked over, “All right, little one. You heard the number. Let’s go.”

“Night, robot,” Claire teased Court as she waved a goodnight to you as well. You waved back, getting up as they left.

“Goodnight, Claire,” he replied in a slightly robotic voice to amuse her.

You walked behind Court’s chair to see all the cameras were offline suddenly. Claire put one of her records on and ‘Silver Bird’ by Mark Lindsay started to play. You looked out the window to your left as you heard the hinge to a gate squeak and a dog begin to bark.

Court and you split up to catch the intruder without raising any alarm. You heard the song throughout the house and indistinct chatter from Claire and her nanny.

After walking a quick circle of some empty areas and finding nothing, you spotted the beam of Court’s flashlight as you heard a gun click. You lost the light of Court’s flashlight, and clicking yours off as well, you jogged down a hallway to come around from the other side of the intruder.

You rounded the corner quickly as Court was already in a tussle with the intruder, gun laying on the floor a few feet away. You jumped on the intruder’s back from behind, throwing him off balance, and causing him to stumble into a wall. You quickly let go, landing steadily on your feet and trapping him between you and the wall. With a hefty punch to the right location of his head, he dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Claire peeked out of her room and looked at the both of you, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, broke a bowl,” Court held up a shard of a broken glass bowl. You stepped to the side slightly to try to block the intruder’s feet from her view.

“You sure you’re alright?” she glanced at the feet behind you and looked at both of you.

“Yeah,” you sighed with a shrug, “just another Thursday.”

Claire glanced back down at the intruder’s feet, clearly startled at what she could guess had just happened.

“You should go to bed,” Court suggested gently but firmly, “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

Present Day

After leaving the train station and finding your bag with various supplies, you and Court were headed to a dry cleaners listed in a notebook in the bag.

Court knocks on the door and you both stand to the side when you get to the address. Court counts through some of the cash in his hands. You hear movement inside the door and the man inside speaks in German.

“We got dry cleaning,” Court states without looking at the door. You hear the man reply with ‘nein’ and he begins to say something else, but Court cuts him off, “We want the works. Starched, cleaned, pressed, and we want it same-day service. Can you do it or what?”

The man finally responds in English, “That’s a very expensive laundry list.”

Court slams a wad of cash through the open peep hole in the door. He holds up another wad of cash in front of it.

“You seem like a man who wants his shirts done right.”

After all the locks are unlatched from inside, the man opens the door for the two of you and moves his sweater aside to show a gun in his waistband as a warning.

You roll your eyes impatiently, “We’re in a hurry.”

With that, the man leads you down a flight of stairs slowly, grasping the railing for support.

“We’re also gonna have to get into a secure system,” Court adds as you look around as you slowly descend the stairs.

“Sure,” the man chuckles, “You really are the, uh, full buffet, aren’t you?”

The man stops at the bottom of the stairs and looks at you two. Court shrugs and shakes his head slightly, not knowing how to respond to that.

“I do passports over there,” the man points to the far side of the room, “And, uh, well, let’s do your- let’s do this thing first. You can sit. You can sit here.”

You walk past where the man gestured. “Where are you going? It’s… What’s… What’s the secure system?” you glance around a corner to look for something, anything to confirm why a knot is growing in the pit of your stomach, but find nothing. Court looks at you and you shake your head and keep looking around.

“Cormeum Electronics,” Court states as the man repeats it to himself and begins typing.

“It’s medical supplies,” the man states before pointing over at you, “Don’t- Don’t touch that door.”

“Yeah, we’re looking for a pacemaker,” Court informs him.

“I can get you a serial number.”

“That’s all we need.”

“Name?”

“Fitzroy. Claire Fitzroy.”

“This will be a minute.”

“I’m getting that.”

“I think you should go get yourselves cleaned up before we take your pictures,” the man gestures to a small area with a sink and curtains surrounding it, “Unless bloody and beaten is the look you’re going for.”

Court looks unamused at the man’s attempt at a joke. You grab the bag of supplies and walk over, closing the curtain behind you and seeing Court’s shadow just outside to stand guard just in case. You don’t tend to feel so uneasy at nothing, so you’d have to prepare for the worst.

You slip your shirt off and wash off the dried blood from yourself with a wet towel, ignoring various old scars and a burn for your father’s cigarette lighter and quickly changing into a set of fresh clothes from the bag. You sigh lightly and look at yourself in the mirror as an anxious lump forms in your throat. You do your best to shake the feeling and open the curtain, letting Court head in and you hear it close behind him.

You walk over to where the man is setting up his camera and look around for threats.

“A little to your left, please,” he looks through the view in his camera as you hear water running behind the curtain. You oblige and feel your heart racing, blood pounding in your ears.

“Wait-”

Before you can get another word out, you feel the floor drop beneath you and you roll to your side as you hit a cement floor of some kind of pit to avoid injury. You look up just in time to see the man quickly moving a rug over the glass trap doors you fell through. In a dazed state, you suck a big gulp of air back into your lungs and lazily glance around, seeing no route of escape. You hear muffled talking above you and you curse under your breath. Any attempts you make to call out to Court go unheard.

Resigning to your inability to escape, you just press yourself against the wall and sit, hoping to avoid being squashed by a falling Court. A moment later, the doors open and Court lands on the ground next to you with a thud. He coughs, sucking air back into his lungs as you had.

He stays on his back and looks up at you sitting next to him with your head rested against the wall.

“All right. Trapdoor. Unexpected,” Court clears his throat.

Above you, the man shows you both a wanted poster of the two of you through the once again closed glass trap doors. “Someone is very upset with you two."

Court groans in pain slightly as he starts to get up, “Well, now I’m upset with them.”

“A ten and seven zeros’ worth for the both of you.”

Court grabs his gun and shoots at the man, ducking when the bullets ricochet, but luckily don’t hit either of you.

The man shakes his head, tutting at Court. He grabs his camera and looks down at you both, “Hey. Smile,” he taunts as he takes a picture.

Once the man walks away, Court offers you a hand and helps pull you up.

“You okay?”

“Probably got a concussion from that landing, but otherwise, yeah. I should’ve trusted my gut, I knew something was off with that guy.”

“It was the mustache, right?” Court jokes lightly, causing you to chuckle. “What’s the plan now?”

You sit and dig through your supplies bag that Court had on when he fell and you quickly get an idea, “Boom.”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

“What do you know about the Sierra program?” Denny Carmichael asks Dani back at CIA headquarters.

“Reckless mysteries you guys send in when you can’t officially send anyone else,” she replies.

“The grey men. Your predecessor’s idea. He founded a program to recruit hardened criminals, commuting their sentences in exchange for a lifelong commitment to the agency. Assets were chosen for their skill set, lack of family, and plausible deniability. Identities permanently destroyed. Nameless assassins with limited morality. I mean, what could possibly go wrong, right? Every single Sierra flamed out. All dead or back in prison. Five and Six are the last of the dirty half dozen, and they are 100% conforming to pattern. They hurt people because that’s who they are. Both of them. Your predecessor thought it would be a good idea to take both of them on, let them work together, two heads are better than one deal. They’re siblings, they’ll stick together no matter what it costs anyone else. That’s who you’re protecting.”

“Remove yourself from my personal space. Please,” Dani fixes him in a passive aggressive stare.

Turning back on the voice recorder he had previously paused, Denny takes a seat facing Dani, “Officer, I have reason to believe you’re not being truthful in this debrief. And as such, I must recommend you be suspended from field duty.”

“I want to talk to my COS.”

“I already did, she’s lost confidence in you,” he clicks off the recorder, “Am I jarring your memory yet?”

A buzzing sounds from Carmichael’s pocket. He pulls out his phone, finding a text from an unknown number with the picture of Court and you trapped below the trap door, noting your location, all reflecting in his glasses in the darkened room.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

Treading water, you place your makeshift bomb near the trapdoor. Court had managed to burst a water pipe while you assembled the explosive from miscellaneous things you had in the supplies bag. The pit had filled with water and was nearly at the top. You nod to Court and both dive to the bottom of the pit, you with a string in hand that will trigger the bomb. You spot lights being shone through the trap doors. Fucking hell Lloyd’s men got here fast. You tug the string, triggering an explosion that sends the men and the trap doors flying off. Water sloshes across the floor as you and Court hoist yourselves out of the pit. You offer him your hand and help pull him up after getting up quicker. Smoke swirls through the air, limiting your vision as you run forward. Court and you each take on a few armed men, you using their weapons against them and Court using a broken pair of scissors from your supply bag.

A leg reaches out and trips you suddenly leading to a harsher landing than you were prepared for. You feel your head throbbing with a dull pain as your sense of hearing is overtaken by ringing in your ears. With a sigh, you just relax and let your head lay against the floor, shutting your eyes tightly as the room spins around you. Definitely a concussion.

You hear Court getting into a scuffle next to you and hear some kind of spray, likely pepper spray, you’d guess, and the scuffle comes to a halt.

“Come on, man,” Court groans in annoyance.

“Hey, sunshine,” Lloyd’s far too peppy voice chimes.

“Fuck,” you huff, trying to get up, but quickly failing as the spinning room knocks you back down.

“You must be Lloyd.”

“What gave it away?”

“The white pants, the trash ‘stache. It just… it leans Lloyd,” he sighs.

You smile slightly and Lloyd chuckles before getting serious again almost immediately.

“Where’s the drive?”

“I got it here somewhere. It’s just hard to see,” you hear some movement and know Court is about to pull some trick and you’d best run for it. You slowly get up, taking a wide stance to keep your balance, but swaying slightly nonetheless. Your eyes dart between Lloyd and Court as you see Court fiddle with a grenade. No, two grenades. No, two Courts? Or just seeing double from a concussion steadily setting it. “Is that it?” Court holds the ring of the grenade up to Lloyd as he drops the grenade beside them.

Lloyd looks down quickly, “Ballsy.”

They quickly split, Court running one way and Lloyd running the other way and directly at you. Before you can process the situation, Lloyd’s arm collides with your waist and wraps around you as he tackles you out a window, the grenade exploding behind you. 

“Alright, we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?” Lloyd quickly gets up as you sit up, still on the ground.

“Fuck you,” you mutter and glare at him.

“Is that a promise?” he teases flirtatiously as he grabs your arm and pulls you up. He keeps a strong hold on your arm, making you walk with him as he practically holds you up himself. He leaves you next to a car with a group of men who quickly get you in the car, standing guard so you can’t run off.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

An armed guard forcefully holds your arm as you’re led into some fancy ass mansion in who cares. Lloyd stays at your other side, walking with an odd limp. You don’t know what happened to him and hardly remember any of the car ride as you kept losing consciousness. Fitz is led in and upstairs by two other guards.

“Is that Donald Fitzroy?” Suzanne whispers aggressively, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Suzanne!” Lloyd speaks with a passive aggressive enthusiasm, “Long time. If I’m honest, I liked your old haircut. The one where you didn’t look like a bitch.”

“We did not give you permission to kidnap former CIA personnel and their family members. You’ve been hired by the agency to recover-”

“To do your job,” he cuts her off, “because you couldn’t. Could someone get me a Vicodin, please?” he calls out over his shoulder before looking back at Suzanne, “Besides. It’s working, isn’t it?” he gestures to you, “Get them a Vicodin too, actually.”

“But where is Six?” Suzanne demands.

“Where I want him,” he retorts, pouring a cup of coffee.

“In the wind?”

“On the run, scared shitless.”

“Evading you,” you mumble.

“This is ten years of my work on the line here, Lloyd-”

He cuts her off by forcefully sweeping nearly everything off the coffee table in front of him. You cringe at the loud noise.

“I am your only prayer of getting that drive back,” Lloyd snaps, “because I can do everything the agency can’t. You know all those rules you guys are always trying to work your way around? They don't mean dick to me. So unless you want our names spilled across every news alert on every phone in every pocket on earth, shut up and go sit in the corner.”

Suzanne just clenches her jaw unhappily and doesn’t respond.

“Oh,” Lloyd grabs a bottle of pills and rattles it calmly, “How about that? Forget about the Vicodin.”

Lloyd grabs his coffee and holds the bottle of pills out to you to grab. You just stare at it in confusion and he sighs, placing it in your hand until you grab it.

“I’ll take them from here, thanks,” the guard lets go of you and Lloyd takes your arm instead, walking you out of the room.

“Why are you walking like that?”

“‘Cause I got shot in the ass, Suzanne!” he yells, causing you to shrink at the loud noise, he glances at you slightly as you walk, “Sorry.”

Lloyd brings you upstairs to a large room. The curtains are wide open, letting in all the light possible. He leads you to a chair and sits you down, turning back to close the door behind you both. You raise an arm and cover your eyes to block out the bright light.

“Concussion?” Lloyd guesses as he walks over to the windows, drawing the curtains closed to block out most of the light.

“Because you’re so concerned,” you drop your arm as the room darkens, wishing he saw your eye roll.

“So what if I am? Do I have to be a heartless monster all the time?”

You look around the room half heartedly and look at the messy bed. “Can’t even make a bed for your hostages?”

“This isn’t a hostage room,” he hums, walking back over to you and gently pulling you up from the seat and taking the pill bottle from your hands.

“What then? Death row?”

“My room,” he sits you down on the bed, giving you some of the pills and a glass of water as he takes a few pills himself, chasing them with coffee.

You just watch him silently for a moment before taking the pills yourself, desperate for relief from your throbbing migraine.

“Need anything? Food? Change of clothes?” Lloyd offers, sitting next to you on the bed.

“Why?”

He sighs, looking over to the door that has remained closed. “‘Cause maybe I do care, just sometimes, would that be so bad?”

“What other times do you care?” you look at him in a mix of skeptical and dazed.

He hums in thought and looks back at you with a playful smirk, “When we met and I let you ‘escape’, other than that, can’t say any come to mind.”

You feel heat rising to take over your face as you realize how close you both are. In his bedroom, alone. You let your eyes trail down his facial features from his eyes, ending at his lips.

He chuckles lightly, “Something you wanna say, Five?”

You hum and nod slightly, looking back up to his eyes, “It really is a trash ‘stache, Lloyd.”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disbelief, but you catch a smile spread across those lips you had a stare down with moments ago.

“Such a smooth talker,” he compliments sarcastically as you try to hide a smile, “So, Five-”

“Y/n.”

“Hm?”

“Y/n Gentry is my name. Well, it was. To anyone besides my brother, I’m just Five. Really gotta strip you of everything in my program, even your name.”

“Y/n,” he smirks slightly as the name rolls off his tongue, “want to tell me how someone like you ended up in a shitty ass program like the Sierra program?”

“Lack of hope, it was that or spend a hell of a lot more time in prison.”

“What wound you up there?”

“It’s a long story,” you lay back on the bed and Lloyd watches.

“We got all the time you want, sunshine.”

“My father was an abusive piece of shit, one day was exceptionally bad, and Court knew it was my life or our father’s so he uh, he killed the piece of shit to save me and went to prison for it. No one seemed to care if it was self defense, they thought it was still just a murder. Our mother passed soon afterwards and I was on my own. Floating around the foster care system doesn’t really do you wonders, I can tell you that. It does, however, introduce you to plenty of assholes when you live in the shit end of town. Traffickers, abusers, kidnappers, all those fun sorts. I eventually just figured I didn’t have much of a life to live at that point, so I wanted to do something I could be proud of myself for. I started going after them. I took out a good handful of them too, before they got me.”

“So you really have been righteous your whole life?” Lloyd smiles slightly and lays back next to you, both of you just looking at the ceiling. Your eyes travel over the ornate crystalline light fixture that remains off.

“I guess so, why haven’t you?”

“Because I have no moral compass.”

“Don’t give me that shit, you would’ve killed me a long time ago if that were true, Lloyd.”

“Yeah,” he sighs and glances over you without your notice, “I guess because it’s not what I get paid to do. And I do what I have to to finish my jobs.”

You kick your feet slightly as they hang off the side of the bed still, “Then you’re working for the wrong people. You’re a skilled man, maybe one day, if we’re lucky, you’ll be a good one.”

He smiles slightly, not taking his eyes off you as they graze along the profile of your face as you focus on the ceiling, “Maybe. Get some rest, best thing you can do for that concussion.”

You hum lightly and feel the mattress decompress as he gets up and limps slightly out of the room. You shift your position, pulling your legs onto the bed and resting your head in the pillows that surround you with the scent of whiskey, gunpowder, and musk.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

The embellished chair squeals against the floor as Lloyd drags it from the table, nodding for you to sit. You reluctantly oblige, knowing you have no chance at running now.

“Where are we? What do we got?” he asks as he places his hands on the back of your chair, leaning forward to see the various screens in the front of the room.

“Wet teams en route,” someone replies from in front of you.

“Everybody be advised, he has help,” Lloyd glances down at you slightly, “Well, more help.”

“We sure?” Suzanne questions, looking back at the two of you, but you remain silent, refusing to give anything away.

“Well, I didn’t tranq myself in the ass and neither did they, so yes.”

“Got something,” someone else on tech speaks up, “CCTV in Bangkok. Night of the op.” 

He walks over, holding the laptop in front of you and Lloyd. Footage of you and Court in masks rolls as you deposit an envelope with the necklace and drive you found in a mailbox.

“They ditched the asset,” Suzanne realizes aloud to which you just sarcastically hum in mock intrigue.

“Where’s the package now?” Lloyd asks the tech, knowing he’ll get nothing out of you anyways.

“Well, it’s already in the system. Resolution’s too shitty to read the address. Clerk said it was to a PO box in Prague? He doesn’t keep any records, so that’s the best we got.”

“That’ll do, pig. That’ll do,” Lloyd smiles. 

Suzanne looks at him, “You have Five right here, isn’t your thing to get information out of people with your ‘methods’?”

Lloyd shoots her a glare that you don’t notice while you roll your eyes, just looking straight ahead. “They won’t talk, not worth the time,” he states bluntly, “Better try elsewhere.”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

“Goldilocks, would you be a lamb and excuse us?” Lloyd walks over to Claire as you walk into the room.

“Go to hell.”

He grabs her shirt with two hands, pulling her up and tossing her aside.

“Hey! Woah! Stop!” she protests.

“Don’t touch her!” you yell, protectively wrapping your arms around her and bringing her close to steady  her.

“She has a pacemaker, jackass!” Fitz argues at the same time, trying to lunge at Lloyd, but being held back by his men.

Two more men begin to approach you and Claire, ready to drag her out of the room, but you move her behind you, glaring at them and ready to fight them off despite your concussed state.

“Well then, she definitely shouldn’t stick around for this next part. If you keep her out of the way, they won’t have to touch her,” Lloyd addresses you.

With an indignant huff, you take Claire’s hand and lead her out of the room without a glance in Lloyd’s direction. The door shuts behind you and you bring Claire to a room down the hall, knowing neither of you wants to hear what’s about to happen.

Claire takes a few deep breaths to calm down as you sit side by side on a clearly overpriced couch. You just look down at your feet on the floor.

“What’s he going to do?” she asks quietly.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think we want to.”

“Is he going to kill him?” her voice is barely above a whisper out of pure fear.

“No, Lloyd wouldn’t kill him, not now. He wouldn’t get anything out of that and would be losing a potential source of information.” Claire nods slightly and leans into your side for comfort. You hesitate slightly, but wrap your arm around her shoulders and rub her arm gently. “It’ll be okay.”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

“Do not underestimate this target,” Lloyd announces to the wet teams that are after Court as you watch the various computer screens from your chair, “Hit this meatball like a freight train. And turn on cams. I want this pay-per-view.”

You don’t know what went down in the room between Fitz and Lloyd, but you figure Lloyd must’ve threatened Claire and/or you to get Fitz to talk. You know Court is in Prague with Margaret to find out what she found on the drive, though you’re unsure who his ‘help’ is that Lloyd mentioned. Regardless, Court and Margaret are smart. They’ll get out of the corner they’ve been unknowingly trapped in.

You look at each of the cameras displayed on the televisions in the room, watching as the wet teams begin to swarm the area. Lloyd paces behind you, watching the screens as well. You hardly flinch as bullets rain down on the building, mostly annoyed by the loud volume of it that fills the room. Smoke begins billowing out windows after an explosion. The cameras don’t show much as the smoke filled building is swarmed.

“In here,” you hear Margaret’s voice call out in the video feed.

“Where is he?”

“Where is who?”

“Do not play with me.”

“What the hell is she doing?” Lloyd leans forward, bracing his arms on the table in front of him. You can’t help but watch the muscles in his arms tense as he does so.

“Outplaying you,” you point out.

“Oh, doll, whatever they are paying you,” Margaret calmly holds a cigarette in her hand with a lighter in the other, “it is not enough.”

You bite the edge of  your lip until you taste iron, knowing what’s about to happen.

“Oh shi-” the cams on screen go offline, leaving only maps.

“Jesus,” Suzanne mutters with a shake of her head.

You can see Lloyd’s back tense through his tight fit shirt, though his voice remains steady and unbothered, “Well, that was unexpected.”

“Did we just kill Margaret Cahill?”

“Makes you question if you’re on the right side, huh, Suzanne?” you look over at her, “Because he’s doing exactly what your boss is paying him to do.”

She looks over at you, uncertainty strewn across her features, before turning back to the televisions to mask it.

“We have Alpha and Bravo teams circling,” the tech from earlier announces, “Delta’s en route. Cameras aren’t live yet.”

“Send everyone,” Lloyd instructs as he walks back to your chair, “Get ‘em in there, every team. Light it up.”

“Cops have him near the square at the opera. They’ve called in a SWAT team,” someone informs Lloyd as he stands behind you, observing all the screens ahead of him.

“Alpha team arriving now,” the tech verbalized.

“This clown’s a sitting duck,” he shrugs, pouring two glasses of whiskey and placing one on the table next to you. You ignore it. “You have my permission to shoot anyone standing in his way.”

“Confirmation on target,” a mercenary speaks through his earpiece.

“Make him dead,” Lloyd confirms, bringing the whiskey glass to his lips.

You just stare ahead at the maps and various screens, refusing to show any sort of reaction. You see chaos erupt in the city square where Court is handcuffed to a concrete bench. Bullets fire from every direction, forcing the pedestrians to make a frantic attempt at escape.

“We’re going to prison for this,” Suzanne mutters.

“Keep any more cops out of that square.”

“We’re killing cops now? Margaret Cahill wasn’t enough?”

“SWAT team approaching from the bridge. Multiple vehicles. Six is in the southwest corner.”

“Get Bravo team in there. We need more guns.”

You clench your jaw and quickly down your glass of whiskey, ready for the worst.

“Bravo engaging now.” The screen displays the rosters of Alpha and Bravo, some individuals crossed off, likely dead by now. “Bravo, SWAT on your flank. Watch the fire from that heavy gun.”

“Would someone mind shooting the man handcuffed to the bench?” Lloyd raises his voice in annoyance at the apparent simplicity of the task that is still incomplete.

“We can’t get to him. There’s too many cops.”

“My God, how hard is it to shoot somebody?” Lloyd sighs.

“Not hard at all when you work with the right people,” you raise an eyebrow and shoot him a condescending look. He chuckles darkly, shaking his head.

“Take out that assault vehicle,” he turns his attention back to his job at hand.

“This is insane,” Suzanne moans, looking almost as if she’s about to be sick, “Lloyd, please, pull everyone out now.”

He doesn’t respond, deep in his own thoughts.

“Lloyd!” she raises her voice.

“Extra ten million to the first guy to put a bullet in this Ken Doll’s brain,” he doesn’t even spare her a glance as she lets out a panicked gasp.

The camera footage from a vehicle suddenly goes offline. “What happened?” Lloyd demands.

“The relay antenna must have snapped off,” the tech replies as Lloyd walks over and threateningly leans over him with a hand on the back of his chair.

“Well, get it back on before I beat you to death with that keyboard,” he lowers his voice menacingly but in that undeniably hot way. After letting the threat hang in the air for a moment, Lloyd straightens back up, looking at the screens, “Anybody got eyes on him?”

“Negative, negative. We lost him.”

Lloyd sighs, but before he makes any remark, you hear shots, “He’s on the tram!”

More individuals on both Alpha and Bravo have become crossed off in all the commotion.

“Delta team’s in pursuit.”

Lloyd turns, walking back over to you and placing an arm on the table beside you, entrapping you between him and your chair. “You two are impossible, you know that? The infamous Sierras Five and Six,” he states, almost amused.

“We’re good at what we do, Sunshine,” you smirk, looking up at him with unwavering indignance.

He hums, letting his line of sight trail slowly down from your eyes to your lips, “We could make a very good team one day.”

“Yeah, it’ll be a cold day in Hell before that ever happens,” Suzanne shoots down the suggestion immediately.

Lloyd rolls his eyes at her, walking behind your chair and bracing his hands on the back, “All teams, report status.” The screens iterate a beeping as the icons of individuals on the teams flash with X’s through them. He gets no response. “All teams, report status.” Still nothing.

“This is quite possibly the most spectacular failure in the history of covert ops,” Suzanne turns to Lloyd and raises her voice, “This will be taught in schools as the primary example of exactly what not to do in asset retrieval.”

Radio static hisses from a computer before a voice breaks through, “This is Lone Wolf. Over.”

Lloyd looks up with a slight smirk, “Hello, my sexy Tamil friend. Sit rep?”

“Tracking the target.”

“No change, Lone Wolf. Get me that asset.”

Suzanne nervously looks from the screen showing Lone Wolf to Lloyd as he speaks, “What I do can’t be taught.”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

 “Vehicle on approach,” a voice speaks through a radio.

“Let him in,” Suzanne replies.

The gates open, allowing Lone Wolf’s car to enter as security guards confirm it’s whereabouts to make sure nothing will get past them that shouldn’t. You follow Lloyd towards the entrance, not having much of a choice as the armed men around the place all keep a close eye on you.

“You know what I love about you?” Lloyd walks over to meet him, “You look like you’ve been hit by a bus, but it only adds to your mystique.”

Lone Wolf doesn’t reply, but holds up the necklace containing the asset to Lloyd. You sigh and look away from it and out the glass windows around the front door.

Lloyd exhales in relief as Lone Wolf places the asset in his outstretched hand, “Yahtzee.”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

One of the people on the computers places the asset in a port on their computer as Lloyd and you both watch the televisions, waiting to see the contents so Lloyd can confirm that it’s what he was after. “It’s loading.”

“Tell me, Suzanne,” Lloyd turns to her condescendingly, “is there any other part of your job that I can do for you?”

“Failing upwards does not qualify as success,” she retorts as he leans on the back of your chair once more, a fresh glass of whiskey in hand.

“No, success qualifies as success.”

“Do you consider putting a bullet in the girl upstairs a success? ‘Cause I’m struggling to see how you’re gonna get out of all this.”

“You wanna make an omelet, you gotta kill some people,” he quips.

“You’re killing a girl?” Lone Wolf speaks up, sounding apprehensive now.

You roll your eyes, knowing Lloyd is all talk right now. If he was going to kill Claire, she’d be dead by now. You just look at the live security camera feeds on a computer ahead of you. Lloyd just looks over at him and takes a sip of his whiskey before placing the glass on the table beside you. 

“You know, in English, we call this a happy ending. However, if you say one more word, you may not see it that way,” Lloyd threatens firmly, “Suzanne, please pay my Tamil friend and send him on his way.”

You notice something on one of the feeds and smirk just as Suzanne notices, calling attention to it, “Who’s on the east perimeter?”

“Unit five,” someone responds.

“Where are they?”

“They were there two minutes ago.”

The power suddenly shuts off and you glance back at Lloyd as he begins to get nervous, though he hides it well.

“Get the genny up,” he orders.

Explosions erupt outside, shaking the mansion slightly. Everyone jumps, startled, and they turn to look out the windows behind you. A flaming helicopter crashes into the water beside the building.

“Lock everything down. Get all units to the courtyard,” he grabs a gun in his right hand, grabbing your arm with his left and bringing you with him. You just feel a light sense of amusement at how pissed off he is. “And do not pay this asshole,” he lunges aggressively at Lone Wolf who stands his ground.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

“You wanna tell me what the fucking plan is, Y/n?” Lloyd quickly jogs down a hall, leaving you to follow along, “Make this easy for me and I won’t kill the girl.”

“Bullshit, if you were gonna kill her, she’d be dead. Besides, I have no idea what their plan is, haven’t talked to Six in a while. We’ve both been too busy to call,” you sass.

He doesn’t respond, instead leading you down another hall and speaking through his earpiece, “Get me eyes on the bridge.”

You hear the high pitched whiz of a rocket and quickly move behind a cement wall to avoid the explosion. Lloyd just laughs, appreciating the struggle as if it were a game. He moves out from behind the wall, shooting at the figure that shot the rocket, but not landing a hit. More explosions ensue, pushing both of you forward to avoid them.

“I seriously don’t get a gun or anything?” you huff.

“So you can turn around and shoot me?” he scoffs.

“Aww, you know me so well,” you mock.

“No chance, sweetheart.”

He slowly walks out from behind another wall, stalking along a fence line. He watches the shadowed figure run off.

“He’s trying to draw us away. Shit!” he takes off running. 

You follow along, laughing as you go, “You really didn’t realize that sooner?”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

You both run up a staircase inside, straight to the room Fitz and Claire were in, only to find it empty. You just hum triumphantly as he speaks through his earpiece, “He’s in the house.”

You jog over to look out the window as Lloyd walks back to the hallway, productively using his time and resources by yelling at the corpses outside and firing a few bullets in them.

Quickly, Lloyd leads you out to one of the bridges connecting parts of the building over water. You spot Fitz, Claire and Court across from you on another bridge. Lloyd and his men fire at them before you can shout to them, but it looks like they miss, hitting the concrete of the building instead.

“You’re making me destroy a historic building here!” Lloyd yells to Court before they open fire again.

You glance over the edge of the bridge behind you, seeing what’s beneath you, hoping to come up with an exit strategy. You’re snapped out of your thoughts as Lloyd grabs your arm, dragging you with him as he takes off running again. You’re dragged along as Lloyd and his men circle around to the bridge Court is on.

You stay back to avoid being collateral killed by a stray bullet intended for someone else. You hear Claire screaming in panic and you feel your throat tighten. Everything quiets down and you hear a splash down below. Lloyd gestures with his gun, as a vague threat, for you to follow. You walk over to see Fitz laying still.

“Roll him,” Lloyd commands to one of his men who obliges and rolls Fitz over.

Fitz scoffs, “Boring.” He flicks the safety pin off a grenade in his hand.

“You douche,” Lloyd shoves one of his men out of the way, going for you. 

You, however, take the opportunity to escape. When Lloyd is close enough, you rip his gun away from him since he won’t be focused on keeping ahold of it. You immediately hoist yourself up and over the side of the bridge, diving into the water below as the blast goes off and before Lloyd can get a hold of you.

You resurface to hear Claire sobbing as Court pulls her to the shore. You quickly follow after them and meet them at the shore.

Court helps pull you out of the water, handing you an earpiece in the process, “You good?”

“Been better,” you shrug as you hop in a boat nearby. You hear a vehicle approaching and Court walks over to check it out. “Stay down,” you nod to Claire and follow him.

Court fires some shots through the windshield to try to take them out. You drop to the ground as the car stops and shoot the mens’ legs as they get out. One runs around the car quickly and kicks at your hand holding the gun. You keep a grip on it and fight with him for the upper hand.

Lloyd runs over, tackling Court to the ground. The two of them struggle for control over Court’s gun. You hear the sizzle of a rocket and a pained yell from Lloyd. The man you’re fighting gets a hold of your gun, attempting to aim it at yourself or Court. Court uses Lloyd’s distraction as his chance to roll to the side, splashing in the water to avoid getting shot.

You use your favorite move, kneeing the man in the crotch to make him lose his grip on the gun. When he doubles over in pain, you fire a bullet through his head and he drops to the ground.

“Wait. Please don’t shoot!” Lloyd begs. You turn around and see him approaching Claire. You try to fire near him as a distraction, but you only hear a click when you pull the trigger, informing you that you have no bullets left. “Look what you did to my hand,” Lloyd whines.

He gets closer to Claire and grabs her before you can react, “Give me that, you little shit.” He yanks the flare gun out of Claire’s hand, causing her to scream as he drags her with him into the hedge maze.

“Lloyd, you jackass!” you yell, running after him.

Court quickly catches up to you and you both hesitate outside the maze, not knowing which direction Lloyd went. You nod to Court and quickly head down the left path, Court quickly moving down the right.

“Six!” you hear Claire yell further from you. You jog ahead, knowing she must’ve seen Court and that you’ll need to find the right way.

“Now, I’m gonna stop you right there, cupcake. What do you say we wrap this up? I mean, I’m having a blast, but it’s way past the kid’s bedtime, don’t you think?”

“Keep him talking. I have a line of sight,” Dani speaks through your earpiece.

You rush around a corner, skidding to a halt as you come to the center, standing behind Lloyd.

“You’re gonna throw me that gun, or the little one gets a new face,” Lloyd threatens Court, not having noticed you yet. “If your strategy relies on whether or not I’ll kill a child, you need a new strategy.”

“Bullshit. Let her go Lloyd,” you walk up behind him, placing the muzzle of your gun against his back. Despite it being out of bullets, it’s a good bluff.

Lloyd chuckles darkly and glances over his shoulder at you. Court sighs and unclips the magazine from his gun, tossing the magazine to the ground and the gun into the side of the fountain in front of Lloyd. Lloyd lifts his arm that was around Claire and she runs to you, both of you backing away from the scene in front of you.

Lloyd aims the flare gun at Court, backing his way around the fountain as Court walks towards him to keep him at a distance. “You know, I think we would have been friends, you and I. Aside from your childish sense of morality and eight-dollar haircut, we have a lot in common. It’s really a shame this isn’t gonna work out between us. Now normally at this point in the night, I wouldn’t be sticking around. With the house lights about to come on, not really my scene to hang out, but you have been a pebble in my shoe since the very beginning. And now I just don’t think I can walk away.”

Court looks over at you and Claire to see if you’re both ok, now closer to you than Lloyd is. Claire clings to you in fear, and you do your best to not sway on the spot as the dizziness creeps back in. You haven’t felt right since the water landing, definitely not a good concussion treatment. Adrenaline has just been mostly keeping it at bay.

“Guess what I’m thinking right now?”

“That you’ve overshared,” Court responds.

“I think I’m better than you. What do you say, Six, you wanna dance?”

“Push him right, and I’ll have the shot,” Dani vocalizes through the earpiece.

Court looks at you again, noticing your uneasiness, “Forget the shot. Come get Five and the kid.”

Court looks back at Lloyd who tosses his flare gun aside, holding up his hands to show that he won’t do anything yet. “You two get to the edge of the maze, okay? Agent Miranda will meet you there.”

“No, no, wait,” Claire sobs, “Wait, we’re not just gonna leave you here with him. He’s crazy.”

“I got this,” he reassures the both of you, “You’re gonna have to help Five walk. Don’t turn back.”

“No, you gotta come with us, just come with us please,” Claire sobs, trying to tug at Court’s arm.

“Claire,” he tries to cut her off, but she hardly hears.

“Please, you two are all I have,” she sobs.

“Claire,” she finally quiets and looks at him, “this is just another Thursday.”

You glance over to Lloyd and couldn’t find that usual cocky confidence. In fact, you could swear you saw uncertainty. Even a sense of sadness. Not that it lingered once he noticed you looking at him, he masks it quickly.

Claire hugs Court tightly and looks up at him, taking a deep breath to calm herself, “kick his ass.”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

With your arm around Claire’s shoulders, she helps steady you as you walk through the maze to find an exit. You take a shaky breath and stop walking for a second, looking around you.

“What?” Claire looks up at you.

“I don’t feel so good,” you mutter.

“Are you gonna be sick or something?”

“No, not like that, bad gut feeling. I’m not usually wrong with that,” you sigh and turn back the direction you came from, “Go find my friend, she’ll keep you safe.”

“Five, you can’t go back, you can barely walk. And Six said-”

“Lucky for us I’m a fighter and smarter than him most of the time. I’ll be fine, so will Six.”

Claire hesitantly nods and continues walking towards the exit while you turn and retrace your steps slowly.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

Coming to the opening to the center of the maze, you hear the safety of a gun click. Looking ahead, you see Suzanne lining up a shot at Lloyd.

Without a second thought, you charge forward, tackling her to the ground and knocking the gun out of her grasp just after it goes off. Court immediately abandons his fight with Lloyd as he sees you, running over to help you. Suzanne gets the gun back and shoots him to incapacitate him.

“What the hell?” Suzanne yells at you, shoving you off her and pointing the gun at you and Court. You stay seated on the ground and Court raises an arm in surrender, sitting on the edge of the fountain and keeping pressure on his wound with the other. Lloyd stays where he is, kneeling in the fountain and raises his hands as Suzanne turns the gun to him as well as a threat.

“Don’t shoot him.”

She scoffs, cocking the gun once more to retake the shot you forced her to miss.

“Kill him and he gets the easy out,” you rattle out quickly to keep her attention, “Why not leave him to rot in prison for the rest of his days?”

She glances at you, raising an eyebrow in intrigue, “You really want to let that toxic piece of shit live?”

You glance over at Lloyd who just looks back at you, not sure what your goal is here.

“We have history,” Suzanne continues, “Me, Denny, Lloyd, we all went to Harvard together. Those two had this absurd bromance which made it impossible for me to prove to Denny how much of a liability Lloyd was. Then I see these two troglodytes bashing each other. The whole thing just crystalized. Lloyd Hansen is going to take the fall, dead or alive, for everything that has happened. Now, I know how to do that. What I need are a few witnesses to corroborate my story. So, if you two want that girl to live to a ripe old age, you’re gonna do exactly as I say. Bad news is you’ll probably get your old cells back, but the good news is, if you two behave, I’ll let you out to play sometimes. ‘Cause frankly, you are both freakishly good at why you do.”

Court raises his hand slightly.

“What? Do you have a question? What is that?”

“Does this plan involve us all living?”

Suzanne looks down at you, “If Lloyd acts as a witness to corroborate the story, yes. Yeah, you’re gonna live.”

“Then we should go,” Court mutters, “Lotta blood… lotta blood.”

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

Court is carried out on a spinal board. Claire looks over as a paramedic checks her over. He smiles slightly at her and holds up a sign of the horns to show he’s ok and she smiles back at him.

Lloyd is examined by another paramedic, but surrounded by CIA agents and cops, ready to jump at any hasty move he could make.

Dani is led by two agents and hardly spares a glance towards Suzanne when they pass one another.

Court quickly gets loaded into a helicopter to airlift him to a hospital for more in depth medical treatment than they can’t do on the scene.

The light of the morning sun continues to bleed over the land, reclaiming the scene of last night’s events.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

Two weeks later, Washington D.C.

“Where are they keeping Six and Lloyd?” Denny Carmichael inquires as Suzanne shuts the car door behind them.

“Basement. Most secure floor.”

“And Five?”

“Still MIA.”

“Should’ve put a couple of bullets in their heads.”

“Five and Six tore through thirty of the best operatives in the world. Why would I waste an asset like that?”

“They’re Fitz’s gray men. They’re not gonna do anything you say. You don’t even know where Five is.”

“We’ll find them and they will. As long as I have the girl, they will.”

Carmichael reaches out a hand to stop her, slowly turning to face her, “It is very dangerous for you to start thinking for yourself.”

“You threatened, Denny? How pleasantly out of character. Would you rather I be floating in the Potomac?”

“You’re just lucky Five and Six didn’t try to overpower you in that maze. Guess they didn’t perceive you as a threat.”

“That would be their mistake,” she states simply, walking away and letting the threat hang in the air.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

Police line the halls of the hospital, heavily guarding two rooms. A nurse walks past, giving them a short nod as they walk into one of the rooms, swiping an ID card to do so. The card reader beeps as a green light displays. The steady beep of machines sounds from inside the room of Courtland Gentry until it is muffled by the closing door. Just next door, Lloyd Hansen is stuck in a similar position to the former, laying cuffed to the bed as machines beep steadily around him. A beard has begun to grow around his strong jawline due to the lack of shaving opportunities. The nurse walks over to the door connecting the two rooms.

Court looks over, noticing the break in the very rigid routine the nurses have seemed to follow daily. Lloyd simply rolls his eyes, sitting up more and looking over, ready to make a witty remark.

“Hello boys, long time no see,” you smirk at the confused and astonished looks on their faces as you pull down the medical mask that had obscured anyone’s view of your face.

“How?” Court begins to ask, but is quickly cut off by you.

“Let’s table that discussion for later. We’re on a schedule now, gentlemen, please do hurry. We’ve got to pick up Claire on time,” you quickly pick the locks of Court’s cuffs and set him free, walking over to Lloyd to do the same.

Court practically jumps out of the bed, grabbing a scalpel he noticed in the room for a weapon. Lloyd grabs your hand once you undo his second cuff, before you pull away. He sits on the edge of the bed and smiles slightly.

“You know, I think you were right,” he holds you close, bringing your hand up to his lips as he places a kiss against your knuckles. Your face heats up against your will.

“I’m right about a lot, I’ll need some clarification.”

“You said I’ve worked for the wrong people.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“So, are you hiring?” he smirks and you smile brightly.

≣≛▸✭◂≛≣

A draft blows through the open window to Claire’s room in the practical prison she’s being held in. She peeks out in confusion. Upon seeing nothing out of the ordinary besides the open door,  she turns to her record player to see her favorite record propped up. Silver Bird by Mark Lindsay. A piece of paper sticks out the side, just enough for her to notice. She walks over and carefully picks up the record, delicately sliding the note out to read it.

PLAY ME LOUD

She glances around as her suspicions grow, but nonetheless, she places the record on the turntable. The song begins to play once she lowers the arm onto the spinning vinyl. She turns the volume knob as high as it will go as she begins to hear yelling and gunshots below her and outside.

Your sign is Capricorn and every corner of your mind

Says you’ll remain my friend, my friend until you’re mine

Silver Bird

Fly my lady away

Silver Bird

Take her over the bay

Silver Bird

Give my lady a ride

Sensing a presence, Claire slowly turns to look at the door as you and Court walk over, stopping in the doorway.

“Am I allowed to chew gum in here?” Court asks.

Claire runs over to both of you in tears, engulfing you both in a hug. You smile, hugging back just as Court does.

You quickly get her downstairs to your waiting Jeep, hearing a few more gunshots as you go. You keep Claire low, opening the back door for her to get in behind the passenger seat as Court hops in the back with her behind the driver’s seat. You quickly hop into the passenger seat.

Claire looks at you and Court in confusion, “Who’s driving us?”

“My guard dog,” you smirk.

The driver’s door flies open and you catch the gun tossed to you. Lloyd shuts the door behind him, quickly starting the car and shifting into drive, taking off and speeding away from the house.

“Good guard dog,” you tease, earning a smile and an eye roll from Lloyd.

“How do you know we can trust him? He’s crazy,” Claire states.

“Oh, I’m counting on it, he works for me now. His job is to help keep us, and especially you, safe.”

Claire nods reluctantly, looking between the two of you as Lloyd drives. “Ok, but no kissing when I’m around, I’m still at an impressionable age.”

Court laughs hysterically at that, leaning back in his seat as you chuckle too.

Lloyd pouts dramatically, “How am I gonna get paid now?”

“Oh, we can discuss more ideas later,” you send a wink his way.

#lloyd hansen x reader #xreader #lloyd hansen #chris evans #the gray man #chris evans x reader #lloyd hansen x you #the gray man fanfiction #lloyd hansen x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #court gentry #courtland gentry #ryan gosling #netflix #fanfic

[crissiebaby]

Double Diaper Dare: Chapter 11

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, public humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, WAM, hypermessing, hypnosis, diaper filling, slime transformation, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

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

“I-Is this a prank or something?”

Baffled by Codi’s sudden change in behavior, Crissie couldn’t help but have flashbacks to trick-or-treat night when she and Codi swapped personalities. Only this time, it was only Codi whose personality shifted, at least as far as Crissie could tell.

Shaking her head no in response to Crissie’s question, Codi didn’t appear bothered in the slightest by Crissie’s apprehension. “Hehe! Nuh pwank! Buh if chu wans…” she said, rubbing her hands together as she exploded into an abundance of mischievous giggles. As her laughter slowed down, she began to blow a bubble with the gum in her mouth, drawing Crissie’s attention to it.

*POP!*

“Hey, wait, didn’t you spit that out already?” asked Crissie, causing her to look back at the table where the gum was found, spotting that the once discarded gum wrapper was once again empty and unfolded. With the words, “Bubbly Baby,” written in bold on the wrapper cluing her in, it didn’t take her long to figure out what the purpose of that experimental gum was, “I-I think you might want to stop chewing that gum.”

However, as Crissie looked back at where Codi had been sitting, she was shocked to see that her babified roomie had disappeared without so much as making a sound. Having been so focused on deciphering the mystery behind Codi’s new attitude, it was no surprise that Crissie didn’t hear Codi slink away without a trace.

“Codi?! This really isn’t the place to go full Little Space!” shouted Crissie as she looked around frantically. Having written for the Test Dummy series several times, as well as making up various other CrissBaby inventions throughout her bibliography, she knew what dangerous, potentially perma-regressing stuff was in here. She may have wanted to see Codi open up her Little side more to her but this was NOT the way.

*POP!*

Whipping her head in the direction of the ear-piercing popping sound, Crissie began to make her way toward its source. Codi may have been sneaky but Littles could only be so quiet, giving her the upper hand. All she had to do was follow the popping and she’d find her eventually.

Passing through a set of hanging, opaque tarps, Crissie entered into the greater testing area, where Mark’s control console and various other testing devices that were further along in development were located. At the moment, everything was set up to test a finalized version of the playsuit that Charles wore in Lawyer Dummy. She snickered a little as she remembered writing in the caveat that he would have to be the one to test it.

As Crissie admired the new and improved playsuit, of which several were hanging on a clothing rack in a variety of colors, she failed to notice the small stream of purple goo that was crawling across the floor near her feet. With the hose to the filling machine in clutches, Codi lifted a pair of slimy tentacles from the floor, pulled open the back of Crissie’s diaper, and jammed the hose inside.

“WHAT THE-” was all Crissie had time to say before the filling machine roared to life and began pumping oatmeal into the back of her diaper. The sloppy mush quickly filled all the available space it could find, pushing its way between her legs and up into her diaper front before she even had time to react. Bits of slop gushed through the slots in her chastity belt, increasing her sexual frustration. She reached back to grab the hose, hoping to halt Codi’s deviance in its place.

Unfortunately, as soon as Crissie touched the wide tube sticking out of her diaper, Codi rose from the ground fully to stop her, placing her hand on Crissie’s and keeping her from removing the hose. “Ah-ah-ah! I Douba Diapee Dawe chu ta keep da hose in until chu’s diapee espwodes,” she whispered, her soft words sending shivers down Crissie’s spine.

Unable to say anything due to a mixture of steaming humiliation and unabated bliss, Crissie whined like a dog in heat as her shaky hand slowly ungripped the hose. If Crissie kept a list of her most desired fantasies, this would certainly be at the top, and she knew Codi was aware of that. She gazed down at her rapidly expanding diaper, pressing a hand against it to test how much it sunk in. This move only heightened her horniness, nearly causing her to drop to her knees in the process.

“Das right, I knows how much dis turns chu on, Widdwe Sis,” said Codi, fully turning the tables on the infamous Big Sis Criss. The cheeky slime-girl licked her half-formed lips, finding herself undeniably turned on by Crissie’s predicament as well.

Soon, oatmeal began to drip through the leg holes in Crissie’s diaper. Unlike one of CrissBaby’s Super Absorber XXXs, there was a limit to how far the BunnyHopp she was wearing could stretch. As globs of goopy porridge began to pile at her feet, it was only a matter of time before the tapes of her diaper began to loosen.

*SNAP! PLOP!!!*

In one swift action, the two tapes of Crissie’s BunnyHopp diaper ripped open, causing the oatmeal-filled nappy to drop to the ground and splatter outward dramatically. Chunks of sticky grain clung to her chastity belt and dribbled down her legs, making a mess out of both Crissie and the testing chamber. Her lower body quivered with unfettered arousal. Frozen in place, she let out a heavy breath, attempting to come down from her sudden sexual high.

“Hehehe, did chu have fun? Chu did say chu wansed me ta pwank chus,” said Codi, completely twisting Crissie’s earlier statement. Returning her body to her human form, she draped her arms across Crissie’s chest, cuddling her close, “If chus wikes, we can esperiment with somfin a bit gooier in chus next diapee.” She held out one of her hands in front of Crissie’s eyes, changing the tips of her fingers into translucent, purple slime, “I don neesa key ta get passed chus chasity bewt.”

For Crissie, this was everything that she had wanted to hear and more since their game of Double Diaper Dare started. Heck, it was what she’d been dreaming about ever since Halloween. How could she say no to such a tantalizing offer?

*POP!*

Having almost forgotten about the brain-altering gum that Codi was chomping on, Crissie’s expression began to turn sour as she watched Codi’s partially-gooey hand start to lower itself toward Crissie’s princess parts. “W-Wait,” she said, grabbing onto Codi’s wrist just as slimy her fingers were about to make contact with her oatmeal-coated clit. She took a deep breath and lowered her head, “This…isn’t you. I mean, it is you physically…but it’s not…you you. And as much as I want this, and fuck do I really want this, I don’t want to disrespect the real Codi’s wishes. I’m sorry.”

Loosening her arms from around Crissie’s body, Codi backed away, feeling a bit hurt by the rejection but also slightly relieved. In the back of her mind, her silent but still existent mature side knew Crissie was right, even if the forefront of her mind wanted to cry like a spoiled child being told no. The warring factions of her conscious and subconscious spiked her anxiety something fierce, causing her gum chewing to accelerate. “Buh…chus did stuff on Hawwoween! Why’s dis any diffewen?!” she shouted, her panic transitioning into a full-blown tantrum.

“Because neither of us knew what was happening. This isn’t the same thing,” said Crissie starkly, her eyes rising to meet Codi’s. Listening to Codi’s gum-smacking grow louder and more intense, she glanced around the area, spotting a jar of the lisp lollies sitting on Mark’s control panel. She quickly retrieved one and rushed back over to Codi, waving the sucker in the air, “Here, I’ll trade you a lollipop for that stinky piece of gum.”

“Oooooh!” exclaimed Codi, who immediately stuck her fingers into her mouth and pulled out the small wad of gum. She chucked it on the ground before snatching the lolly out of Crissie’s hand and pushing it between her lips with a derpy, satisfied grin. The yummy cherry flavor seemed almost dull in comparison to the gum but that didn’t stop her from humming happily as she lapped at the lollipop.

Picking the piece of gum off the ground, Crissie quickly disposed of it, sighing in relief that Codi no longer had access to its mental regression powers. “There, hopefully, whatever that gum did to you wears off soon,” she said, leaning back against Mark’s console and looking down at the mess Codi made, “What do you think? Should we clean up or let the testing team get in trouble?”

*Rattle!*

Suddenly, the sound of a door being unlocked began to echo throughout the testing chamber. Crissie and Codi shot each other panicked looks. Even regressed, Codi knew this was not good. “W-Wuh sood we do?!” she asked with zero control of her volume, prompting Crissie to shush her.

“We gotta get out of here,” whispered Crissie as she reached down to grab the teleport key from her diaper…or at least she would have if her diaper was still taped to her hips! Dropping to the ground, she frantically started to search through the gallons of scattered oatmeal, “C’mon! Where is it?! Nothing this pink and shiny should be able to hide!”

*Click!*

Out of time, Crissie grabbed Codi by the arm and sprinted into the nearby changing room just as a security guard entered the testing chamber.

TO BE CONTINUED…

« PREVIOUS l FIRST l NEXT »

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

SubscribeStar: subscribestar.adult/crissiebaby pixivFANBOX: crissiebaby.fanbox.cc All CB Links: linktr.ee/crissiebaby

Edited by AllySmolShork

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BlossomBitchDolly BlushyBen DD Exminister Gun1242 JFN LittlePissy PrincessKittenLizzi Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca & One Anonymous Investor

#diaper art #diaper stories #crissiebaby #little space #ab/dl #ab/dl stories #ab/dl art #diaper humiliation #md/lg #dirty diaper #diaper messy #wetting diaper #crissbabydiaperco #doublediaperdare #double diaper dare #ab/dl girl #diaper hypno #hypnosis #wet and messy #slimegirl #slime girl

[whereonceiwasfire]

I hope you feel better soon! Here's some ideas to play with (if you want)

Danny gets a tattoo

Danny owns a tattoo parlor

Danny works for Tony Stark as an engineer

Danny is visited by the X-men

Magneto finds him first (soon after the accident)

Danny as an antihero

Danny and Deadpool are friends

Danny meets Bill Cipher in the Ghost Zone - they become chaos buddies

Danny is really into motorcycles

Danny ends up on an alien planet and is found by the U.S.S. Enterprise

Danny somehow becomes a member of the Guardians of the Galaxy

Danny as an assassin

Baby eldritch danny

Danny becomes a toddler and is surprised adopted by a hero of your choice

Danny ends up in the Spirit World and runs into Aang

Pick and choose whichever you want - hope this helps keep the bordeom away!

Thanks so much for all these wonderful suggestions! I had such a bonkers idea for the "Danny as an assassin" one, but it was going to be all kinds of AU and pure, feral vibes, so I ended up going with the "Danny gets a tattoo" one instead because it was less out there haha. That being said, this still turned out ridiculous, and I may yet have to come back to the "Danny as an assassin" prompt one day haha!

“I can’t believe you’re really going to do it. This is so badass,” Sam says, practically vibrating with excitement as she loops an arm over Danny’s shoulder, leaning in close to all but shout the compliment into his face.

“Are you nervous?” Tuck asks, ducking his head to meet Danny’s gaze as the three of them scuff down the sidewalk. 

“I mean, not really,” Danny says with a shrug. “I don’t figure it’ll hurt any more than getting blasted through a brick wall, and that happens on a weekly basis.” 

“What are you going to get?” Sam asks, eyes sparkling. “Flames? A skull? A skull with flames?” 

Danny just gives a noncommittal laugh in answer and shakes her off as they reach the doors of the tattoo parlor—the words Amity Ink adhered to the glass in vinyl letters. Danny pushes through first, his friends following, a little bell jangling overhead as they traipse into the space.

The floors are concrete, the walls plastered with art. It smells a little like antiseptic, and the loud, rattling bzzzz is pervasive. 

Despite all of his big talk, Danny’s heart does a little flip in his chest.

“Hey. I’m, uh, here to see Spike?” Danny says as he approaches the counter. 

The blue-haired woman behind the desk arches a pierced brow and gives Danny a sweeping up and down gaze. 

“You old enough to be in here, kid?” she asks, snapping on a piece of gum. 

“She is so cool,” Sam whispers dreamily in Danny’s ear, and he has to brush her off of him. 

“I’ve got an arrangement,” Danny says, rolling his shoulders back and standing a bit taller. “We're doing a favor. For Phantom.” 

“Oh?” the woman asks, lips tweaking on a smile. “Well. That’s a horse of a different color then. Come with me.” 

She leads Danny, Sam, and Tuck into a little cubicle in the back, a long, plush bench set out, a cart filled with inks and supplies wheeled up next to it. Spike sits on a rolling chair, feet apart, grin wide as he spins and meets Danny’s eye. 

“Fenton!” he says, throwing arms wide. “You really getting a tattoo? This is sick!” 

“Y-yeah,” Danny says with a laugh, fishing a crumpled napkin from his pocket where he’s scrawled out a rough approximation of what he wants. “I need you to do this. I was thinking, like, I don’t know. The upper arm or something? Somewhere I can hide it, but that’s not like, too inconspicuous.”

He can feel his friends’ silent questions as he hands the napkin over—watches Spike’s brows lift up his forehead as he examines what’s on it. To the guy’s credit, he doesn’t ask any questions, just pats the bench seat gently in invitation.

“Do you want me to gussy this up at all, or just leave it as is?” Spike asks as Danny looses a shaky breath and sits. 

“You can do whatever you want with it. As long as it’s, like, readable,” Danny says.

“You got it.” 

There’s not a lot of room in the back here, so Spike shoos Tucker and Sam away for the time being, telling them it’s not a big piece and shouldn’t take too long. Danny can hear them wandering around the parlor, Tuck exclaiming about the different designs on the wall, Sam chatting up the lady at the front about her different tattoos and piercings—how much they hurt, how much they cost, what they mean.

As Spike gets started, Danny squinches his eyes shut, holding his breath as his arm is cleaned with a cool, antiseptic wipe, a stencil laid down against his skin. He shivers a little when the loud, buzzing rattle of the tattoo gun finally begins—flickers a glance down when Spike draws the first small line of the tattoo. 

“Doing okay?” Spike asks. 

“Yeah,” Danny answers with a nod.

Spike keeps going, working silently, eyes focused and determined.  

It burns a bit, but really isn’t that bad, and Danny breathes easily through the next few lines, only grimacing a little in a couple of places.

Before he knows it, it’s done.

He watches as Spike wipes away the last beads of crimson blood—smiles down at the lettering inked against his skin. 

“Thanks a million. I owe you one,” Danny says. 

“Naw, don’t worry about it. Like I said before. It’s a favor for Phantom,” Spike says with a little wink. 

When Danny comes out from the back, tape and padding slapped over his tattoo, Tucker and Sam are immediately crowding him, asking if it hurt, if he really did it, demanding to see.  

Danny obliges with a satisfied little smile, peeling away the tape to reveal the words penned against his upper arm. 

If found unconscious, please return to the care of Clockwork, Master of Time. 

Sam and Tucker are completely dumbstruck, and Danny is completely oblivious as he chatters excitedly—gaze not leaving his arm as he turns it over. 

“Isn’t it great? Now I don’t have to worry about passing out and winding up in a hospital, or a morgue, or about whether or not my parents are going to find me! I’m not sure Clockwork will be thrilled to be my new, eternal, all-knowing emergency contact, but I couldn’t think of anybody else. And, I mean, let’s be serious, the dude exudes huge Time Dad energy. I think he likes being responsible for me. It looks so cool, I can’t believe this is real,” Danny says, poking at the tattoo briefly before hissing in a startled breath and jerking his hand away. “Right, okay, bad idea. Don’t poke it.” 

“I can’t believe that’s your tattoo,” Sam says with a heavy sigh.

Danny misses her tone, parroting her sentiment as he looks back down at his skin, his voice dreamy and awestruck. 

“I know,” he says, smiling. “I can’t believe this is my tattoo."

#drabble requests #phanfic #danny phantom #danny fenton #Sam manson #Tucker Foley #Spike #ashoutinthedarkness #thanks for the request!

[metalbuckaroo]

Birthday to Remember

SUMMARY// After being pulled along to a strip club by your friends on your birthday, you end up leaving with some company.

WARNINGS// smut, oral (f receiving), kinda corruption kink, pussyjob, cursing, mentions of tobacco and alcohol use

AU// Stripper!Bucky x Innocent!Readee

AN// Requests and asks are always open, 18+ ONLY Minors DNI

Masterlist

Moodboard by// @commonintrest Dividers by// @skylightlantern

The last thing you wanted on your birthday was for your friends to drag you to a strip club. You felt awkward and out of place walking amongst the room full of half naked men and drinking customers.

"This just feels weird." You sighed, following your three friends towards the bar that was in the corner. "We'll get one of those private rooms they have here for parties and a beefy man. It will be a birthday to remember, c'mon." One of them grinned.

You pitched in on the drinks and a private room, one of the men walking in right after you. Dark, chin length hair and a sweet smile that nearly distracted from the tight leather shorts that left little to the imagination.

You spent most of the time staring down into your glass, having to silently remind yourself you were suppose be having fun as your friends cheered and giggled as they stuffed bills into the waistband of the man's shorts; whose named you learned was Bucky.

You weren't really paying attention to what he was doing. More to the way the silvery metal of his arm gleamed under the dimmed lights and where metal met flesh at the base of his shoulder.

Wondering how he got it or if he could feel when someone touched it, rather than thinking of the smooth way his body moved.

One of your friends said something to him that you couldn't quite make out. Bucky nodding and looking over at you with a half smile.

"Want the birthday special?" He asked, moving to stand in front of you. Your face warmed at his words and you swallowed thickly, shaking your head. "No, it's fine."

"Oh, come on. Don't be a prude." One of the three girls groaned, poking one of your crossed legs.

Wetting your lips, you glanced up at Bucky who looked at you with welcoming eyes. "Yeah, okay." You nodded.

Your stomach flipped when he took the drink from your hands, handing it to your friend before the cool metal of his left hand nudged at your knee for you to uncross your legs.

Bucky placed his hands on the back of the couch, your shoulders trapped between metal and flesh as he leaned down to talk in your ear. "If you're uncomfortable with anything, just pinch me."

You gave another nod and he smiled, flashing his pearly whites as he leaned his knees against the edge of the plush cushion on either side of yours.

Your heart beat wildly in your chest when he tugged at the laces of the shorts to loosen them before taking your hands in his.

Bucky was eating up every reaction you gave. The way you chewed your bottom lip as he guided your hands along the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen, your fingers feeling every dip in the smooth skin and grazing over the barbells that pierced through his nipples.

He especially liked the way you weren't trying to rush his hands to go under his shorts; letting him be in full control.

Your eyes went wide when he stopped your hands at the waistband of the leather, the sound of your heart beating and blood rushing in your ears almost drowning out the sound of your friends giggling and squealing.

And the sound of the door opening.

"Buck, you've got a set." Another man said from the doorway. "I'm in the middle of a session." Bucky huffed, looking over his shoulder but not moving your hands. "Cap is gonna fill in."

Letting out a heavy sigh, Bucky finally let go of your hands, but his close proximity wasn't letting your body relax just yet as he leaned to peck a kiss to your cheek. "Happy birthday." He chuckled before standing.

A broad blonde took his place, this one letting you sit in peace and stare into you half empty glass.

"I'm gonna head home." You exhaled, glancing at the happy looks on your friend's faces. "Fine, buzz kill." One of them muttered.

Pushing through the crowded club, you pushed the heavy metal door open. Bucky was leaned against the concrete wall of the building not far from the door, now in a pair of sweats and a hoodie as he smoked a cigarette.

"The birthday girl." He grinned, blue eyes meeting yours as you stepped closer. "Want one?" He asked, holding the cigarette out towards you. "Uh, no. Thanks."

"Listen-" he cleared his throat, pushing away from the wall to stand in front of you. "I can find someone to cover for me if you need some company on your walk home." He offered before bringing the cigarette to his lips.

"I'll be fine, I'm not too far." You shrugged, looking to the sidewalk. "You can't walk alone, it's one in the morning." Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "That's different than walking with a stranger?"

His tongue jutted out across his bottom lip, eyebrows twitching upwards. "Well- I was about five seconds away from putting your hand in my shorts around thirty minutes ago. I think I'm a little better than a stranger." He teased, leaning forward slightly. "Besides, your friends kinda seem like assholes."

He wasn't wrong. They were sometimes pushy, telling you to loosen up a little and dragging you along with them to places where you felt out of place.

"Ok, fine." You exhaled. Bucky cracked a smile and dropped his cigarette, stomping it out under his shoe. "Let me get my stuff, just wait here for a second." He said, brushing his fingers to your forearm.

"Thanks, for walking with me." You said as you unlocked your front door. "This isn't the worst side of town but it's not the best either." Bucky said with a small laugh.

"I forgot to tip you, by the w-" his warm hand stopped yours from digging in your wallet, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it. Just- invite me in for a drink." He shrugged.

You narrowed your eyes at him, cocking your head to the side. "You're not a creep, are you?"

Bucky laughed, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "No, just don't want a pretty girl to spend her birthday alone. Plus, I had someone take over my shift."

"Well, my apartment is dry. So, you're out of luck on that drink." You smiled, opening the door to walk into the small studio apartment. "That's fair."

Bucky was good company as the two of you sat on the couch in your living room, telling you funny stories about his time working at the club and listening intently to anything you said. The lighting in your apartment made his eyes even more blue than you'd noticed earlier and his features look sharper, framed by his dark locks.

Over the last couple of hours he had slowly moved his way closer to you. Close enough that you could smell his woodsy cologne mixed in with the scent of cigarettes, his metal arm resting on the back of the couch as his right hand would occasionally brush against you when he'd talk.

"You're cute, like a bunny." He said with a small laugh, making your face heat up. "Thanks, I guess?" You mumbled, chewing your tongue as he lifted his hand to your cheek.

He hummed in response, leaning closer until his lips brushed yours and your breathing hitched.

You pressed a hand against his chest and leaned away slightly. "I've never..." You trailed off, hoping he'd get the point. "I figured that much. Can go as far as you want, or we don't have to at all."

"How many girls have you said that to?" You silently cursed yourself for saying it as soon as you did, biting down on the inside of your cheek. He just chuckled and brushed his thumb over the tip of your nose. "I'm more of a long term guy. Pretty sure I can count who I've slept with on one hand."

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." You said quietly, pulling at a string on the seam of your jeans. "I know." Bucky said before slotting his lips over yours, the kiss gentle and sweet.

The taste of cigarettes and mint gum flooded your tastebuds when his tongue slipped past your lips to press into yours, the softness of his plump lips contrasting the scratch of his stubble.

Bucky just felt so welcoming, his touches cautious to wait for you to stop him as his hand moved from your cheek. Fingers ghosting down the side of your neck to leave goosebumps in their wake, along the buttons of your blouse and finally stopping to wedge between your thighs.

He pulled away, leaving your breathless as you blinked your eyes open to meet his lust filled blue ones. "Remember to pinch me if anything makes you uncomfortable." He teased, pecking a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Things were moving fast, clothes quickly discarded on the path from the couch to your bed. Bucky's hands and lips only parting from you long enough to rid another clothing item that shielded his skin from yours until all that stood in his way was your underwear and his leather shorts.

You weren't sure if it was the head rush from only knowing Bucky for a few hours after holding out for so long, or the way his darkened eyes looked you over as he bent his body over yours.

"You're so beautiful." He breathed, leaving a brisk kiss to your lips before trailing wet kisses down your neck and chest.

Your hands gripped onto the sheets harder the further down your abdomen he got, trying to keep your breathing even as fingers hooked in the waistband of your underwear.

Bucky looked up at you one last time before dragging the fabric down your legs, tossing them to the side and taking his spot back between your legs.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as he peppered kisses to the inside of your thighs, cold metal and warm flesh gently massaging the outsides of them as his stubble scraped at your skin.

A squeak erupted from your throat when he sunk his teeth into the supple flesh, making you move your leg away from his face to pull the skin from between his teeth.

Bucky chuckled and placed a soothing kiss on the mark. One to remind you that none of this had been a dream.

An excited chill ran down your spine when his hot breath fanned your dripping folds. Bucky giving one last glance before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud, a soft chuckle bubbling in his chest when your body jolted and you drew in a sharp breath.

"So responsive, I could get use to that." He winked, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit.

Bucky basked in every breathy sound and reaction he elicited from you, moaning at the taste he wanted to burn into his memory. In hopes he had another chance at this, the slice of heaven he held in his hands.

The chance to have his own angel to bend and mold into his filthiest dream.

He moved his hand to ease his middle finger into your heat, groaning at the immediate flutter of your walls as your hands fisted the sheet and chest heaved with a soft moan.

"Oh, c'mon. You can be louder than that, bunny." Bucky purred, curling the long, thick finger to find the sweet spot to set off the reaction he wanted. A louder moan pulling from your chest when he found the rough patch just inside your cunt making him smirk. "There it is."

He locked his lips around your clit again, fingers curling into the spot that pulled the vulgar sounds from your sweet lips as he sucked and flicked his tongue over the bundle of nerves. An unfamiliar feeling quickly building in your lower belly.

"Bucky-" You keened as white hot pleasure surged through you, your trembling thighs closing on his head as his metal hand moved from your hip to grope at your chest.

His fingers pinched and grazed the pebbled bud before massaging the flesh under his palm as your back arched, your breath catching in your throat and ears ringing.

Bucky lifted his head from between your legs, finger continuing to stroke your walls to work you through your orgasm as he pulled the laces of his shorts loose.

Your skin felt like it was on fire, every nerve alive as you opened your eyes again to Bucky standing at the end of the bed and shoving the shorts down his thick thighs. Erection springing free to give a glance of the two barbells on the underside of his cock. One under the ridge of his swollen head, the other at the base.

Your heart pounded in your ears when he moved back between your legs, stomach flipping from the nerves as his leaking tip ran through your folds and prodded your entrance. "Wait-"

Your hand pressed to the firm muscles of Bucky's stomach made his movements still and eyes flick up to meet your nervous expression. "We can stop if you want. Or we can try something else." He suggested, leaning on his palms to catch your lips in his briefly.

You nodded and let out a shaky breath. "Yeah, something else." You breathed.

A whimper passed your lips when he rocked his hips forward, the barbell sliding over your clit sending shocks of pleasure through you.

Bucky's bottom lip disappeared behind his teeth as let out quiet groans from the feeling of your slick coating his shaft.

"Talk to me, bunny. This okay?" He panted, gaze raking over your naked form that still had the sheet clutched tightly as melodic sounds spilled from your lips.

"Feels good," You panted, words slightly slurred from the dizzy feeling in your head caused by the pressure quickly building again. "So good." He moaned, holding his base to have better guidance through your folds.

You bit your lip into your mouth as tears prickled your eyes from the second wave of warmth that spread, choking out a moan as his pace quickened.

"Fucking shit-" Bucky huffed, his grip on your thigh tightening and release spilling onto your lower abdomen.

You inhaled a few deep breaths, trying to steady your heart beat as he pecked a kiss to your knee before standing from the bed to grab a piece of clothing for clean up.

You pulled the blanket from under you to hold to your chest, waiting for him to get dressed and make an excuse to leave like you'd heard your friends talk about after a hook up.

Instead, he wandered towards the kitchen, finding an empty can as he lit a cigarette, your eyes staying fixed on the way the muscles in his back rippled with his movements.

"C'mere." Bucky said with a soft groan as he got under the blankets with you, sitting the can on the nightstand. "You're staying?" You asked, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

"If you want me to, yeah." He shrugged, holding his arm out for you to lay on as he placed the cigarette between his teeth and grabbed a pillow to cushion the metal.

You gave a soft yeah and cuddled into his side, the soft whirring of his arm under the pillow helping you slowly drift to sleep.

You felt yourself waking up as the bed dipped under the weight of Bucky moving, deciding not to fully wake up and let him leave in silence.

"Hey," Bucky whispered, moving his body over yours to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder. "Hmm?" You hummed in response, peaking an eye open to look at the slate blue eyes that held adoration in them.

His knuckles brushed down your arm, a sweet kiss placed on your lips as he gave you a soft smile. "I gotta go, but I left my personal number under your alarm clock. Give me a call sometime."

You nodded and smiled lightly at him, another kiss pecked to your lips before he left the bed to gather his things, walking towards the door.

"I'm gonna hold ya to that, bunny."

TAGLIST: @likeahorribledream @cxddlyash @iwannabekilledtwice @bookstan0618 @glxwingrxse @yliumy @pineprincess @makbarnes @cupcakehinch @doasyoudesireandlive @magicwithinnightmares @andy-is-gay @stucky-my-ship @marvel-3407 @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @i-l-y-3000 @avoxzy @impala1967666 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @supernaturalbaesduh @bucky-hues @suchababie @eireduchess

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes smut #stripper!bucky smut #stripper!bucky #bucky #james buchanan barnes #bucky barns x you

[harryspet]

caged bird | s.rogers, p.parker & b.barnes

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, dark!peter parker x reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader, polyamory, prison au, noncon/dubcon sex, this plot scenario is very unrealistic but oh well,  reader makes a deal so she can survive, hella manipulation, dominants/submissive, oral sex (male recieving), hella angst, shower sex, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: this is like a really f’d up situation so enjoy :):):) i also wrote this over the span of two weeks so i’m sorry if the pacing is weird and (also x2) this is nowhere near canon

In which you have to make a deal with three devils in order to survive in The Cage.

word count: 4.8k

main masterlist

Your eyelids were heavy though the bright light outside the bus was forcing you awake. Your limbs shackled to the seat, it reminded you that you had lost your freedom so quickly and that you’d probably never have a good night of sleep ever again, “How long?” Your mouth was dry, the heat from the wasteland you were driving through crept through the window. 

“Twenty minutes, princess,” Officer Rumlow looked you over for the millionth time like you were fresh meat ready for the slaughter. His perceptions weren’t far off and that’s what scared you the most. You weren’t cut out for a place like the Cage. 

A week ago you thought this place was fictional, a nightmare tale that was used to scare the new employees. It was still a nightmare but you were now living in it. You thought your heart might explode out of your chest as the facility finally came into view. Five stories of complete concrete surrounded by two, hundred-foot fences and surrounded by a barren wasteland. 

You were the only one on the bus. The Cage rarely received new inmates due to the nature of crimes that the prison was built for. Vigilantes and government traitors. Many used to consider them heroes but they were unregulated and dangerous. That's how they ended up here and, your boss, Alexander Pierce had sold you out to save himself.

“When … W-When am I going to get my phone call?” You asked as the bus entered the gates of the prison, finally stopping at the processing center. 

Rumlow chuckled, walking over to unchain your shackles from the floor of the bus, “Who are you going to call, princess? Mommy and Daddy?” He grabbed you roughly by your upper arm, pulling you out of your seat and dragging you down the steps of the bus. 

You refused to accept that you had been erased. Your parents probably thought you were only missing, not that you had been wrongly accused of betraying the government and had been thrown into the most dangerous prison in the country. 

“They can’t do this,” You winced as your arm stung, “No trial. No jury. T-This is illegal!”

Rumlow ignored you, and you had to pick up your pace in order to not fall down. Your eyes wandered around, the sun nearly blinding you and stinging your skin at the same time. You noticed in the distance a group of male inmates standing behind a wired fence, wearing the same navy jumpsuit as you, and even from far away, you could see cold and hungry glances. 

You thought you were lucky for a minute since you were a woman but then you remembered what kind of women probably lived here. As you were brought inside, past several guards, through metal detectors and pat-downs. 

When you got to the body cavity search, you expected to part way with Rumlow. Standing in a small, cold room, Rumlow stood in the doorway with his hands casually in the pockets of his pants, “Undress, inmate,” Your eyes widened and you quickly crossed your arms, “Slowly, if you don’t mind.”

“I-I do mind,” You said quickly, “I’m supposed to have a female officer-”

“You don’t get those kinds of privileges in the Cage. We don’t separate inmates by gender,” You shook your head as your eyebrows began to furrow. 

“That’s insane-”

“Undress, inmate,” He said more sternly this time, “Or would you like me to do it for you? You’re lucky I don’t make you put on a show for the rest of the guards.”

You shook your head again, tears starting to form in your tired eyes, “Please don’t-” You tried to plead with him but, as you did, you watched him reach for his baton, “Okay, okay!”

Rumlow smiled a wicked smile, “Good. Bend over and cough, inmate. Let me see that cute, little ass of yours.”

+

When you finally got to see a female officer, she was escorting you to your cell. In your hands, you held the rest of your life which included one more set of clothes, bedding, and a toothbrush. You had to eat what the prison provided and you could only earn extra commissary from working. Hela tried to explain everything to you but you were only latching onto every other world. 

You walked along a slim passageway which had cells to the right and a metal railing to the left. There were three floors of cells and they seemed to go all the way around in a circle. Passed the railing and in the middle of the dome was where it seemed most of the inmates were gathered. 

The shouting, laughing, and fighting echoed through the dome and you couldn’t help but think those calls were for you. You could barely carry your bag of things and walk straight without stumbling. If they couldn’t send your weakness from your appearance then they’d surely sniff it out soon. 

“This can’t be allowed,” You whispered to Officer Hela, though her dark hair mixed with the look of death in her eyes didn’t scream “empathy” to you, “There has to be some sort of rule-”

She stopped in front of an empty, six by eight-foot cell which told you that this would be your new home, “You can sit in solitary if you like,” She spoke coldly, “Your meals get brought to you and you don’t have to deal with the animals in here but there’s no time outside. It’s easy to lose track of the days and forget which voices are real and which ones are inside your head. If you prefer to go insane before you die then I’d recommend that route.”

There wasn’t much of a choice to make and you found your feet moving before your brain could register. You stepped inside the cell, setting down your things on the bottom bunk, “A girl like you is going to need to latch onto a group, pledge your allegiance, and do not let them question your loyalty. They live by a different code here and following it is life or death, do you understand?”

You slowly nodded as you listened and part of you was grateful that she wasn’t completely cold, “T-Thank you-”

She scoffed, “Such a precious little thing … I give you a week,” With that, she turned on her heel and you felt hopeless once again, “I’ll escort you to dinner-”

You shook your head, “I’m not hungry.” You were actually starving but you could not yet face the beast. 

She only shrugged and pulled the door closed. The light above you flickered and you stared back down at your bunk. You were holding back your tears as you tried to make up your bed. Staring at the flimsy mattress material only made you more depressed so you decided just to lay down. Facing the wall, your tired eyes roamed over what was scribbled on the walls. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. is evil. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. is corrupt. 

You hated that the words initially sent a wave of anger through you. You hated that you still felt loyal to that group of monsters. You were a low level worker with good standing and they had just sent you to die?

With your face tucked into your arm, you cried yourself to sleep. 

+

The next day you had no choice but to face your fears. You couldn’t go any longer without food and, in a place like this, you needed to keep your energy up. Before the sun was even out, you heard the mechanical click of the cell door. Your favorite officer, Rumlow, made sure to stop by your cell during roll call. 

“So you decided on general population,” He popped the gum he was chewing, looking you over, “I’m sad to hear it, I was gonna visit you every day in solitary but I guess we’ll get some alone time soon enough.”

You scowled at him and a shiver went through you as he continued pass your cell. You were now grateful that you had chosen general population. 

That feeling didn’t last as inmates started moving from their cells down to breakfast. You stayed back, waiting to slip out of your cell when the crowd had passed. You lingered in the back of the line but no one seemed to notice you until you were in the kitchen line. The first reaction was a quiet murmur that went through the group of (mostly) men at the sight of you. 

You didn’t quite match anyone's stature, not even the women. At least they looked like they could take care of themselves. You were sure that your face probably had dark circles and sunken in features. You looked down when you felt someone's eyes on you and you cringed at every word whispered about you. 

“If I could just get my hands on her …”

“I wonder what a little girl like that could’ve done to get in here.”

“I’d be real gentle with her …” “I wouldn’t … I’d make her scream …”

“Move along,” Hela barked at the inmates in the line. You tried to tune them out as a staff member handed you your tray of food. A stale piece of toast, plastic-looking eggs, peaches, and what looked like could be oatmeal. 

It was when you turned away that you felt a pinch on your bottom. You turned around quickly only to find yourself staring at a chest rather than a face. As you looked up, a man with long, dark black hair stared down at you, “Aren’t you adorable?”

“I said move along, inmates,” You looked towards Hela for some sort of help but didn’t receive any. 

When you looked back again, the man had disappeared. You shook it off, figuring that was the least of what you were about to experience today. As you stepped out into the middle of the dome, you remembered the advice that Hela had managed to give you. 

There were cliques formed at each circular, metal table and you looked each one over as you walked past them. Again, people stared and said vile things but you spotted a table where two women were sitting. They were much older than you but the look you got from them was not maternal in the least. 

“Can I… sit here?” You knew the answer based on their thin-lipped scowls. 

You weren’t like any of them … you were fragile. Besides that, you used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. and the organization was responsible for locking half of these people away. You kept walking, eventually finding an empty table to sit at. 

All you could think about now was eating. You picked at your tray with your plastic fork, and with each bite of the food you cringed. The toast was also completely rock hard, “It helps if you dip it in water,” Your head snapped up as you felt a shadow over you before someone took a seat beside you. 

You weren’t expecting someone so young and you certainly weren’t expecting a friendly smile. You stared at the handsome man with your mouth agape. You hadn’t realized what he meant until you looked back down at the bread in your hands, “Oh … I doubt anything would make this edible-”

He ran his hand through his light brown hair, before reaching into the pocket of his jumpsuit. On the table in front of you, he placed a twinkie. The entire room seemed to go quiet for a moment and you realized that everyone was watching the two of you. 

“I can’t accept this …”

“Of course you can, it’s no big deal,” His brown eyes pierced into yours as he shrugged, “I’m Peter.”

The sugary, process food was calling your name but you still weren’t sure what his deal was, “T-Thank you,” Not wanting to come off rude, you accepted it, unknowingly beginning to seal your fate, “I’m … I’m-”

“Y/N Y/LN,” He finished for you which left your eyes wide with shock, “You’re already famous. The guards like to gossip and it’s rare we get new inmates so people get curious.”

“Oh,” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. 

“Don’t worry, some people in here care about your charges, how you got here, but not me,” He tried to reassure you, a smile tugging at his lips, “S.H.I.E.L.D. screwed us all and I don’t think there’s a point in playing who’s the better bad guy.”

You looked around. Now that you knew that people knew your charges and your history, you were starting to feel unsettled. The only thing keeping you grounded was him reassuring you that he didn’t care, “How long-” Your voice came out in a whisper, “How long have you been here?”

Peter took a breath as he thought for a moment, “Few years. Now I kinda forget that I was a normal teenager when this all started.”

Years. And he was a teenager when they brought him here? Did they have no limits to their cruelty?

“God,” You breathed out, overwhelmed, “I don’t think I can … do this-”

Peter reached out, placing a calm hand on your arm, “Hey, hey, you have to survive here. Whether you were meant to be here or not, you have to live like this is your reality. Looking like you’re about to vomit is not a good look to everyone else. I saw Loki over there … he’s an asshole touching you like that  but it’s because he’s already sniffed you out.”

You nodded, trying to stay calm, “But I don’t know how to look … to look less weak.”

“For one, you’re going to have to start eating more and building some muscle,” You could tell by his grip on your arm that he was quite strong, “And the next time someone disrespects you, you have to stand up for yourself. You also can’t just bark like a little chihuahua. Maybe you could pick someone out, someone that you could win in a fight against.”

As Peter started to scan the room, you immediately started shaking your hand, “I can’t just attack someone,” You whisper-shouted, your eyes wide with worry. 

Peter chuckled, “Not with that attitude. Maybe you could go for Heather over there,” He eyed a woman who was practically elderly, “She has a cane so even you could probably overpower though I’ve seen here use the thing as a weapon a few times-”

“Peter,” You spoke sharply, “There has to be another way.”

Peter looked into your eyes and you lost hope for a moment until he seemed to perk up, “I have some friends, we kind of run together in this place, looking out for each other,” Peter explained and you listened intently, hoping for a means of survival that didn’t require attacking an old lady, “I could probably convince them to start looking out for you too. But it won’t be easy, we take loyalty very seriously here, and it wouldn’t be without a cost to you.”

“What sort of cost?”

Peter shrugged, “Could be lots of things. They serve plums on Friday and Bucky loves those so maybe you’d show your support to the group by giving him yours. Something like that,” You followed Peter’s finger as he pointed two men out, one with dark hair and the other with light. Both were built like bodybuilders, “Steve’s a respected leader here and maybe you could help run messages for him.” 

You nodded, “T-That sounds fair,” You paused for a moment as the men eyed you, “And for the twinkie? What do you want?”

“Now you’re starting to get it,” Peter grinned, “Eat it and that means you accept our claim. You’re one of us.”

“Can’t I have time to think about it?” 

Peter seemed to hesitate for the first time, “I’m sure you won’t get a better offer,” Your face fell, “But sure. I’d be quick about it though. Those big, doe eyes aren’t going to work on everybody.”

+

The dark-haired one was following you. Loki, Peter called him, hadn’t taken his eyes off you ever since you parted ways with Peter yesterday. He and his greek god, blonde friend were now walking behind you as you made your way through the halls. They were pushing mop buckets, evidently taking a break from their cleaning duty. 

You had gotten lost trying to find the hospital wing and now you were paying the consequences. 

“Little bird … caged and unprotected,” He taunted you and your heartbeat quickened as you tried to keep from looking back,  “Not even the guards want to save her. Poor thing.”

“It seems she’s in need of protecting, brother.”

“Protecting? If I got my hands on her, the last thing I’d think of is being gentle-”

You turned into the first room you passed, expecting to find somewhere to hide but you only seemed to encounter more people. It was the TV room, a staticy old television airing a baseball game was hanging in the corner of the room, and a bunch of men were sitting at different tables. 

They all turned their heads to you as you interrupted and you immediately recognized the two men from Peter’s loyal “group”. Bucky and Steve. Your heart was out of your chest at the point and you found yourself whispering a “sorry” before turning back towards the door. Loki and his brother, however, were waiting patiently. 

Loki leaned in the doorway, eyeing you like you were fresh meat. 

“Is this jackass bothering you, hon?” Your eyes wide with fear, you quickly realized that it wasn’t Loki taunting you. The dark-haired man’s, you remembered Peter calling him Bucky, voice boomed through the room.

You froze.

“Don’t you have toilets to scrub, Laufeyson?” The light hair man with a thick beard spoke, and by the look on his face you could tell he was a man of power. Not so much power-hungry but someone that demanded respect and often received it. 

Loki scoffed, looking over you again, “As far as I know, this one is free territory.”

“Well, this room is my territory and guess where she happens to be standing,” Loki’s jaw clenched at Steve’s words. 

“C’mere, hon,” Bucky spoke to you, signaling to cross the room. She hesitated but only for a moment as you realized your choices were Peter’s friends or letting Loki, have you. You crossed the room cautiously towards them, everyone now looking at you. You paused awkwardly in front of the table but a small yelp left your lip as Bucky grabbed you by the arm, spinning you into his lap. 

“See,” Steve said as you uncomfortably tried your best not to squirm, “Don’t touch things that aren’t yours, Laufeyson.”

You felt a hand clench your thigh and cringed.

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

As soon as Loki stormed away, you stood up, brushing whatever wrinkles had formed in your jumpsuit. Amused, Bucky smiled at you, “You could at least thank us,” Bucky leaned forward and you tried not to scowl. 

“Thank you,” You whispered. 

“Good girl,” Bucky smirked. 

“Lang, get Y/N a chair,” Steve ordered another man in the room. He was quick to obey the command and, even though you were in a new place, you felt you’d been transported into an entirely new planet. 

“You don’t have to-”

“Sit,” Steve said as the chair was placed beside you, “You can leave when you give us an answer to the offer Peter mentioned yesterday.”

You had thought long and hard about Peter’s offer and decided last night that you wanted to reject it. It wasn’t until now that you realized your decision was a mistake. There was no telling when you’d be getting out of this place, Peter had been here for years, and it seemed you were already a target. 

You’d even heard a rumor that the guards placed bets on how long you’d survive in here. 

“Yes …” You nodded your head, “That’s my answer.”

Steve's lips pulled into a small grin as he eyed his friend across the table, “Good choice, doll.”

+

A week later and you were still alive and relatively untouched. Bucky was quite handsy but Peter reminded you that it was just protocol. Everyone had to know that you were a part of their group and that, if you were harmed, they’d have to deal with Steve and his minions. 

Like Peter said, there were quite a few sacrifices you had to make. Your new job in the kitchen allowed you to provide the group with all the food they wanted and when you weren’t working, you were running errands for Steve. You got an idea of all the inmate leaders and how they functioned as a society. 

Steve seemed to be at the very top and you realized the possible consequences of crossing someone like him. Still, you felt more pampered than like you were a part of some elaborate prison gang. Most of your wishes were theirs to grant. 

They let you watch whatever you wanted in the TV room. Bucky always called you pet names that you were starting to grow fond of. Steve had some pull with the guards so Rumlow was never around to bother you anymore. Peter even found you a set of paints to occupy your time in your cell. As long as you followed them around like their cute little puppy, they were quite nice to you. 

“C’mon, run a lap with me. You gotta build your strength,” Peter asked you, his face sweaty and shining under the baking sun. He was shirtless, the shirtsleeves of his uniform wrapped around his waist, and his magnificent physique was on display just like Steve and Bucky’s. During rec time in the courtyard, you’d become accustomed to standing by the fence and watching them lift weights. 

“I’m good, thanks,” You smiled awkwardly, “I get tired just from watching you guys.”

“Peter’s right,” Steve let out a breath as he dropped his hundred-pound dumbbell.

“I just …” Your voice trailed off as Steve eyed you with his strong gaze. You knew that what he said goes but you were growing nervous, “I don’t want to get sweaty.”

“You’re serious?” Bucky chimed in, a curious look on his face. 

“Is that like a girl thing I don’t know about?” Peter flashed you an amused look and your cheeks began to heat with embarrassment. 

“Y/N?” Steve could see that you were hiding something.

You crossed your arms, sighing, “I just don’t want to have to shower, okay?”

“You haven’t showered since you’ve been here?” Peter asked incredulously. 

“I have!” You quickly defended yourself, “I mean, I’ve just been using the sink in my cell.”

“I see what this is about,” Bucky had a knowing look on his face, “Dollface is scared of the communal showers.”

Peter’s mouth formed the shape of an “o” as he realized what was going on. You still felt so embarrassed. It was yet another thing that made you seem totally defenseless. 

“Is that true?” Steve asked and you were beginning to feel overwhelmed by their concerned gazes, “Why didn’t you tell us? Next time, one of us will keep watch for you. No one’s gonna bother you.”

Maybe it was the isolation or the fact that your life would never be the same again. Maybe it was the fact that you’d never see your family again or that you cried yourself to sleep every night. That might be the reason you felt that they genuinely cared for you and why you wanted to fully embrace the comfort that they were providing. 

Maybe that was why you wanted to belong to them. 

+

For the first time, you were reminded of your old life. You weren’t sure how long you’d lost yourself under the water, letting time get away from you, as the warm water cascaded along your skin. The showers had a sorry excuse for water pressure and, despite the creepiness of the beige tiles and flickering light above, when you closed your eyes you were in paradise. 

“All clean, beautiful?” Bucky’s voice brought you out of your trance. Suddenly you were back in the square room with showerheads lining each wall. You wiped the water from your eyes before turning off the water. 

“Y-Yes, I’m almost done!” You shouted back, grabbing your towel from off the hook. You pressed it to your face, drying your skin. You were quite grateful that they’d taken the extra steps to make you feel protected, “Bucky-”

As you turned around, that feeling of gratitude quickly turned to something resembling fear. He was supposed to wait for you outside the bathroom and yet, there he was, only three feet away from you. 

“What are you-”

He looked over you hungrily and you pressed your towel closer to your body, “You have no idea how long it's been since I’ve been with a beautiful woman like you … Steve too. And Peter, he’s just learning the ropes.”

You took a step back, towards the wall, and as you did you caught a glimpse behind Bucky’s towering figure. Both Steve and Peter were here, stalking closer. 

“You said you’d protect me…” Your voice cracked, your hands beginning to shake. 

“We will,” Steve spoke, determined, “No one else but us will touch you.”

“Nothing in here is without a cost, Y/N,” Peter seemed a bit solemn like his current life was not what he wanted it to be but he was just as hungry, if not more, as Bucky. 

Bucky grabbed you then, his eyes impatient, and you wrestled for your towel for only a moment before he easily snatched it away from you. A helpless squeal left your mouth as he grabbed you by the arm with one hand and placed his other hand between your legs. He grabbed your thigh tightly and as his hand moved further up, you found yourself paralyzed. 

“Good girl. You’re going to take all of us,” Bucky spoke quietly, shushing you, his grip growing tighter and tighter. Before you knew it, all three of them were surrounding you, their curious hands wandering over your wet skin. Grabbing your breast, your thighs, turning your face to bite at your neck. 

“Get on your knees,” Steve grunted against your ear, growing impatient like his friend. 

When you didn’t move, Peter was the one to push you down onto the cold floor. You hiccuped, trying not to hyperventilate as they overwhelmed you from each side. As they all started to pull down their clothes, you made one final attempt at trying to crawl away. 

Steve grabbed you by your throat, making your efforts futile, pushing your face towards his crotch. You felt it, hard and throbbing against your cheek, “Open up, don’t make this hard, doll,” Through the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky stroking his own length, waiting patiently for his turn. 

Steve grabbed you by your hair next, pressing your closed lips against his tip. He forced himself in your mouth, “There you go,” Steve grunted, pushing himself deeper, “Move that tongue around.”

Steve Rogers could make your life a living hell in the Cage. Was this really the price you had to pay in order to survive here? You couldn’t imagine it being any worse than this but Steve could make that possible. That’s why you started to swirl your tongue like he said, deciding that their orgasms would end your pain. 

Bucky was much rougher than Steve, pinching your nose closed and enjoying watching your eyes widen and water. He practically touched the back of your throat and still commanded you to stroke Peter and Steve’s cocks with your hands while you took him in your mouth. Somehow, you managed. 

Peter was much more gentle and you were grateful for that. His hands rested softly on the back of your head, guiding your mouth slowly up and down his length, “God, this is awesome,” He cursed, his head tilting back as he enjoyed the stimulation. When he finally finished, his warmth filled your mouth and before you could spit or catch your breath, Bucky grabbed you again. 

He came so far down your throat that you were forced to swallow it but, unlike him, Steve took his time, “This little mouth. Is ours. Every single hole. Is ours. No one else, do you understand?” With each sentence, he thrust hard until he filled your mouth. You leaned over, coughing as you felt the stinging of your sore throat. 

You were about to collapse onto the dirty cold floor when gentle arms lifted you up into a broad chest. You found yourself not fighting, only pressing your face into Bucky’s chest as you began to sob. 

Steve didn’t have to say anything more. You understand your new position and there wasn’t anyone else there to save you from that fate. 

That night you learned there was a change to your cell assignment. You’d sleep in Steve’s arms, a little bird that was safe and protected in it’s cage. 

+

hope you enjoyed!! i’m posting this instead of sleeping because I have class in this morning :) 

#dark fic #dark peter parker #dark bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark!peter #dark!bucky #dark!steve #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #dark!stucky x reader #peter parker #steve rogers #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #steve rogers au #prison au #polyamory #menage #peter parker smut #bucky barnes smut #stucky x reader #winter spider #tom holland #chris evans #sebastian stan #the devil all the time

[discotechque]

but would you tell me if you want me?

pairing: abed nadir/m! reader word count: 1.3k rating: T requested: yes

im really sorry this took so long but i had no idea what to write and idk bc i love abed so much but here it is

Abed is aware of the natural progressions in a relationship ( he’s seen cookie cutter romances blasted through a projector ). It’s always meeting with witty banter or shy smiles which doesn’t correlate with anything he’s experienced. Anxious hands inching towards each other underneath a gingham table cloth and when he attempted it, it only resulted with scraping past wet gum. And casual kisses that appear to be monoliths within relationships.

Films make it seem so easy but those are characters who have people be paid to bring humanity to them. Lacking a certain complexity about the human psyche and varying reactions to unprompted actions. How do you kiss someone without needing to ask? Does asking enhance the experience? When is the right time to kiss someone? It’s a series of questions with no real answer and he’s uncertain if he’s willing to hear the truth.

He thinks that now is better than never but he would never purposely cross boundaries that have not been set. ( He didn’t meet you in a scripted manner, he would not want that. ) Yet, Jeff and Britta have already given him tips; Pierce has starting saying nonsensical things he tunes out; and Troy, Annie, and Shirley are the only ones who seem to understand the natural progression of dating.

Now is better than never. He’s never certain as to when now is.

He sits on the floor of his apartment, slowly watching you shift through his DVD collection. Pondering what you might pick before jumping into his arms again. It’s a domestic scene, one he might’ve missed if he waited. Now is better than never but a kiss is different than a date. It’s different wanting to see what his lips feel like pressed against yours.

“Are you fine with Corpse Bride again?” he doesn’t answer, instead watching as you sit back on the couch and adjust to fit in his arms. He was made to mold around your form. “Abed?”

He blinks. Once then twice.

Nodding even though the question has fallen deaf against his ears. “Totally,”

“Awesome, cause I was worried you were gonna get bored watching this movie again and I was thinking of Kauffman but that just gets you tired. So maybe comfort was a nice go to, y’know?”

Abed doesn’t know, he just watches you ramble about things and enjoys the haven he finds within the action. Knowing what makes him tick and reminding him of it. A saccharine feeling settling within the scene. He loves it, he loves what you do, he loves you.

He rushes in as he catches your wide eyed stare. A yelp leaving you as his forehead bumps against yours and his nose pokes your cheek. “Ack!” The sound leaves you both as you nurse surface level wounds that will wear off within minutes. He’s quick to cover his face, find solace in the darkness so he does not have to spare another thought to this onslaught of embarrassment.

“Abed?” you softly ask but he does not move his shield of fingers until your gently pull them down.

He watched you, he could watch you forever and never be bored by the prospect. Yet, it is not the time for romantic idles that will only keep him stalling from the truth. He tried his hand at unprompted gestures that only failed. Abed Nadir is swearing off from impulsivity ( an unlikely promise ).

“Did you want to kiss me?” you inquire and the soft grin that tugs on your lips only furthers the small pot of humiliation harboring at his stomach. You are a complex being, one he did not imagine and plays along with his endless ideas ( so many that are questionable but you still stay ).

“You could’ve just asked.”

You say as if its the most obvious thing in the world. It is, but he does not want to accept it.

“I—” Abed wants to protest but his lips fail to form any retort that could be reasonable. “I thought this would be more romantic like Pretty Woman.”

He thought romance was chronological. That there’s a right timing as to when moves can be brought out and what would make his boyfriend less upset. However, divine timing seems fictional at the moment.

“Wasn’t Julia Roberts a prostitute in that?” you question, smile only seeming to grow by the second. Ignoring his plight, instead trying a joke to help seal his hurt. You know him like the stars do the moon.

He retorts, “Do prostitutes not deserve romance?”

Your lips purse in thought, only pretending. A small huff leaving him as you do. He wouldn’t trade moments like these for some so formulaic and scripted. ( You’re real and all he’s ever wanted. ) The smile soon returns your lips with a firm nod.

“Very astute observation, Mister Nadir. I think that deserves a real kiss.”

Slowly, you lean in. Unleashing any prior tension as your fingers brush past his face and your mouth finds his. He doesn’t know what you taste like, a bit like toothpaste and chocolate that sit right upon his tongue as it glides along your bottom lip. Everything about this is new and untimed.

It’s the best kiss he’s ever had, he realizes after you lean back. His fingers loosely pressing into your waist as you still caress his face. ( His whole life in his hands. )

“We should do that again sometime,” he adds after and presses another peck to the corner of your mouth.

#during pride month ?!?! #i started this in june but its july now so its not pride month anymore #homophobia did not exist in 2009 sorry historians #jeff and britta r the worst at dating and would give the worst advice to abed #‘member him and rachel … oh abed is a good man indeed #ch: abed nadir #abed nadir x reader #abed nadir imagines #abed nadir imagine #abed nadir #julianscribbles #community x reader #community imagine #community imagines #tv: community #male reader

[atsuminthe]

The Devil has golden eyes

—After an unfortunate mishap with the Fukurodani clan, you find yourself in a rather interesting spot with their leader.

note: weyyy i swear i want to finish the “squish” series, but i get inspiration for other things and i get carried away asdfjiwgi i promise i’ll finish those soon!! damn i’m so inconsistent

warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, violence (implied death of background characters), VERY LONG!

smut warnings: female reader, 18+, cunnilingus, a bit of dirty talk

part of the “boundless” series: MAFIA!BOKUTO KOTARŌ

status: unedited

taglist: @nakizumie; @lovelytarou; @risjime;

This can’t be happening.

That’s what you keep repeating in your head as you sit alone in the dark room, tied to a chair. The chains are eating away at your skin with how tight they’re wrapped around your limbs and you’re lightheaded. The bruises on your legs don’t hurt anymore—not that you can move to make them hurt.

How did you get here?

You have no idea. All you know is that some shady guys followed you around for a few days before knocking you out cold in some secluded alley and that’s about it.

You exhale.

This can’t be happening.

The sound of footsteps echoes through the corridor and the metal door of the room swings open—you should be startled, but the fatigue in your body renders you useless. Your captors enter, crooked smirks on their faces as your unfocused eyes strain to make out color splashes and silhouettes. One of them tilts your head up by grabbing your hair, and you hiss.

“Are you going to cooperate today? Or do I have to beat the info out of you again?” a voice bellows, and you close your eyes, head throbbing.

“Too loud,” you mumble. This simple sentence lands you a hard blow to your stomach—you would have hit the wall, were you not tied down.

“Fuckin’ bitch, thinking you can backtalk—boss is gonna be pleased once I bring him the stuff you know,” they spit—figuratively and literally—as a glob of saliva trickles down your cheek. “Tell me what I want and I’ll consider sparing your pathetic life.”

You chough, the sudden pressure on your chest becoming unbearable by the second. It hurts—but there’s nothing you can do, other than endure and hope it’ll be over soon.

“I told you, I have no idea what the fuck are you talking about,” you groan, earning another blow that rattles the chains, blood seeping in through your gums and into your mouth from the impact. They’ll believe you eventually.

Meanwhile, in his office, a few blocks away, a certain golden-eyes clan leader is wondering what the hell is it taking so long to obtain some simple data when his men are notorious for being the most efficient informants.

“Boss, I know we’ve taken a little too long—” the man explains, fiddling with his hands as Bokuto walks down the hall, intent on paying a special visit to the person that’s been hindering his plans for a week now.

“Far too long, you mean,” his voice echoes, deep and gravelly. Taking out his leather gloves from his coat pocket, he slides them on his hands. If he’ll get messy, at least he’ll do it in style. The man beside him cowers slightly, voice wavering and face twitching nervously.

“Yes, yes, exactly as you say—but please, just a little bit more—”

“No.”

He stops abruptly, turning to face the man. His golden eyes pierce right through his soul, and Bokuto clicks his tongue, annoyed. “I’ve given you enough time. The job should have been done a good while ago. If you’re incapable of handling a simple situation, just tell me. Don’t waste my time.”

Sighing, he continues walking—but something doesn’t seem to be right. His intuition flares and rumbles. He purses his lips. He stops again, the heels of his shoes clacking gently against the concrete.

From down the hall, Akaashi—his life-long friend and right hand man—emerges, clearly upset. Or is he mad? From this distance, he can’t discern it. He stays put, arms folded over his chest as he taps his foot.

“It’s not the person we were looking for.”

Akaashi has always been good with faces. His photographical memory is incredible, being able to memorize and recognize even the faintest features of a person after a fleeting glance. He’s the brains of the clan—his advice is invaluable and his judgment is unbiased.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me at this point?” Bokuto exhales, rubbing his temple with one hand. “Who are they, then?”

“An innocent civilian woman that has nothing to do with us, our rivals or anything underground related,” Akaashi explains, and it’s obvious now that he’s mad. His brows are slightly furrowed and he speaks slowly, accentuating every other word. He turns around, waving a hand for Bokuto to follow him. He does, taking off his gloves and placing them back in his pocket.

“How the hell did they even mistake her for our target? That’s what I want to know,” the blue-eyed man continues, taking off his coat and placing it on one of the chairs in the anteroom. Bokuto snorts.

“Not everyone has your eyes, Keiji.”

“I know that. But does she—” he gestures towards your limp body, scattered with bruises and flesh wounds, both old and new, “look like a middle aged woman with a knack for pearls to you?”

Even with your face bruised, he can see your features are nowhere near a middle aged woman’s. Your lips are quite plump, no creases in sight—your eyes are closed, but he’s sure, if you weren’t in this situation, that they’d be vibrant and full of life. Yeah, you’re clearly not who they’re looking for—even he can see that much. At least his underlings had the decency of not hitting your face too hard—there’s no swelling, only a few patches of purplish blue. He mutters an ‘untie her, you dumb fucks’ towards the men that stay huddled in a corner and they scramble to execute the order. He gets frustrated with the way they handle your already battered figure. “Gently! God damn it, do I have to do everything for you?” he groans, cradling you in his muscular arms. He watches as your nose twitches gently, face turning to the warmth of his chest and he sighs.

“Great. Now we have two problems,” Bokuto exhales, careful not to move you too much. Those wounds are pretty nasty, he has to admit.

“Three, actually. Someone ratted us out.”

Things couldn’t get worse.

You wake up with a jolt from one of the muscles in your leg aching suddenly. A groan escapes your lips as you plop back onto the soft pillows, sinking between in fluffy fabric and closing your eyes, ready to go back to sleep.

Wait.

Pillows?

Your eyes shoot open and you raise yourself quickly, only to regret your decision a split second later when your side starts to burn. Something wet seeps through and you press down gently, with the rest of the strength you have left.

“Oh, you’re awake. Good. We were worried you wouldn’t wake up.”

The smooth voice of a man startles you, but you fall back on the bed, eyelids heavy. You can’t fight—not even if you wanted, your body too tired to move, let alone run or perform complex actions. Said man comes in view, holding a tray of what you suppose is medicine, gauze and some light food. You blink.

“...Where am I?”

“The Bokuto manor. Don’t worry, you won’t be harmed any further. Please relax. I’ll wrap your wounds in a second.”

His hands gently lift your shirt—which, you note, isn’t the one you had when you were kidnapped—pressing gauze down to stop the bleeding. He applies a few ZipStitches, closing them gently. “Please let me know if it hurts.”

“How long have I been out?”

“A day, almost two,” the man answers softly. He lifts you gently, taking his time to properly wrap the bandage around your torso. After he’s done, he grabs the tray and places it on the bed next to you. You can see some buttered toast with two sorts of jam and a little cup of what seems to be herbal tea. “Make sure to eat when you feel like it.”

“Thanks, uh...” you stammer, realising that he didn’t tell you his name. The man smiles sympathetically, understanding your unspoken question from the glint of your eyes.

“Akaashi,” he answers. ”Should you need assistance, call for me. I’ll be in the other room.”

He exits, making sure to close the door gently. You take a look at the toast, stomach grumbling loudly. Eating has never sounded better.

In the other room, Bokuto skims through papers with a pen in his hand, a half-empty glass of whisky perched on a stack of sticky notes. “How is she?” he questions as soon as the door closes, not looking up from his work.

“The smaller bruises have started fading and her wounds are closing. She’s getting better.”

He hums. He feels bad for you—you have no idea what’s going on, having been thrust into this mess by idiots and suffering the consequences of a crime you didn’t commit. His clan already fucked up their first impression—he has to make sure his is impeccable.

“What are you thinking of?” Akaashi asks, a knowing smile on his lips as he takes the whisky glass and pours a bit more in it. “Our lady friend in the other room, perhaps?”

“Please stop reading my mind, thank you.”

Akaashi chuckles, placing the glass in front of him along with an Arturo Fuente cigar. Bokuto quirks an eyebrow, smiling, and accepts his friend’s peace offering. “Be a dear and bring me my flint lighter. The black one, if you will.”

Akaashi opens a fancy cabinet, rummaging through various boxes and fishing out a black cubic thing. “What are you going to do with her?” he asks, placing the lighter in Bokuto’s palm. Said male lights his cigar, puffing out smoke a few times before leaning back in his chair. He shrugs.

“For now, I’m making sure she doesn’t die. We can figure something out while she heals.”

A weak call of Akaashi’s name has them both snap their heads to the door. It opens slowly, hands poking from behind it, as your legs wobble slightly. You peek shyly in the room, eyes widening slightly at the sight of Bokuto in his chair.

The air that he exudes, the sheer confidence and refinement drip from everywhere on him. The white vest, buttoned neatly over his back shirt (whose two upper buttons were undone, a silver chain dangling over his chest) accentuates the muscles rippling underneath his clothes. His black, white and grey hair is gelled back, a cigar between his lips and a glass in his hand as his golden eyes stare right into your soul. He’s so handsome—like an Adonis, sculpted from the finest of marbles by Michelangelo himself. He relaxes, lips curving into a small smile.

“Good morning, little bird.”

Three weeks and a few breakfasts together later, your relationship with Bokuto (who has since explained the situation and apologized on behalf of his men) improved drastically, thanks to both your first impression of him and his general demeanor. He’s a passionate man, hot-blooded and quick like a hurricane—but not with you, Akaashi had told you one night when you asked him more about the handsome clan head. He’s never been this gentle, this attentive—this soft. And while nobody complains that the boss is in high spirits and nobody pisses themselves in fear when he so much as glances at them, your blue-eyed companion jokingly asked you not to mellow him too much.

Bokuto didn’t visit you this morning. While you knew he was a busy person, you were getting bored. They had given you books, you had access to Netflix, you even got a console of your choice equipped with enough games to last you a lifetime, and a new phone (the golden-eyed man insisted that he buy you a new one after your old one was smashed to bits)—yet, without his company, it was too quiet.

What you don’t know is that Bokuto is busy with spring cleaning—lining all potential traitors in front of his desk in the meeting room of the headquarters and questioning them thoroughly. Akaashi, of course, helps—the intel team has many aces up their sleeve. One by one, they fall, the loud bang of a gunshot reverberating in the huge room. Smoke rises from the usage as Bokuto gently blows over the barrel to dissipate it. “There, we cleared the air,” he states calmly, grabbing a piece of cloth and wiping his black Glock pistol. “Whoever tries to pull another stunt like this one ends up with a bullet to their head,” he threatens—and it’s even scarier because of the low, cool tone he uses. “Remember, I see, hear and know everything. Now get out of my sight.”

Everyone scurries out of the room, leaving only Bokuto and Akaashi to discuss further. A comfortable silence settles, with only the clicking of pens and lighters filling the air. The creaking of Bokuto’s chair has Akaashi look over to his boss.

“I’m leaving the matters here to you, Keiji.”

“Of course. Pleasant evening, boss.” A sly smirk settles on the blue-eyed man’s lips as he laughs genty. “And say hi to Birdie for me, please.” His friend only laughs, slinging his coat over his shoulder.

“Will do.”

The door to your room opens silently. You don’t notice it right away, too immersed into your mindless scrolling through social media to feel Bokuto looking at you from the doorway. Him clearing his throat makes tou jump, but you smile nonetheless.

“Bokuto!” you gasp, enthusiastically waving your arms and making grabby hands towards him. He laughs, not being used to such a commotion in his bedroom, but complies nonetheless and bends down to hug you, throwing his coat on a nearby chair. “You came back, finally!”

“Missed me, little bird?” he asks, sitting down next to you on the bed and placing a warm hand on your head. “Haven’t been away for too long.”

You giggle—then the tiredness in his voice and the faint dark circles under his eyes make you pout. You wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him closer.

“Is everything alright, Bo?”

“Yeah. Just a little tired.”

You gesture for him to come lay next to you, moving over to make space. He obeys wordlessly, sliding under the cover—he lets his head rest on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

In the three weeks that you’ve spent recovering in the Bokuto manor, you’ve become quite used to his presence. It was soothing, really—the way his smooth voice calmed your nerves, how his silly stories uplifted your mood, his big hands on your head, his head propped on your shoulder. Every little thing made you like him more and more—until you ended up knowing that you love him.

Truth be told, Bokuto loved you too. He wasn’t quick to let people in his heart due to personal reasons, but you somehow stomped on his morals and carved a path right into his soul. You’re a special one, he keeps thinking, especially since you don’t seem to ever leave hia head.

“Hey, little bird,” he exhales, hand caressing your side as you hum a gentle tune. Your fingers work to detangle his hair gently, because he forgot to gel it and the wind ruffled it. “You know what’d make me feel better?” You shake your head.

There’s a faint pause where the covers rustle gently, and something big and warm cups your clothed sex, making you squeak. You try to close your legs, but he keeps them open firly with his elbow.

“Me?” you stammer, red like a tomato.

“You,” he confirms and gives your cunt a gentle squeeze. The action has you mewling, writhing under him in an attemtp to stop him from teasing you further. “Impatient? Don’t be. I’ll devour this pussy soon enough.”

His fingers push your panties aside to rub at your clit as you moan and whine. Lowering his fingers, he coats them in your slick. “You’re so wet, little bird—and all for me? What a pleasant surprise,” he chuckles. “Relax, birdie. I’ll make sure you only remember my name tonight.”

His statement sends a shiver down your spine, back arching as he slides off your underwear, throwing it somewhere in the room. He lowers his gaze, coming face to face with your aching cunt, and he groans. “Smells divine,” he exhales, nudging your clit with his nose. “Be a doll for me and put your hands in my hair. You’ll need the leverage,” he instructs and you do as he says.

And he knows what he’s saying—not even a second later he’s nipping at your inner thighs, placing hot, open mouthed kisses to your sensitive skin. You shudder, fists balling up in his hair—you almost scream when he flattens his tongue against your soaked cunt and licks a long stripe along your slit, swirling his pink tongue over your clit and making you dizzy. He laps, sucks and licks everywhere as if you’re his last meal—a hand shoots under your shirt to squeeze your breast, and your mewls make him go even harder. It’s impossible to refrain—the way you arch your back, your sweet voice when you moan his name, your trembling thighs, everything about you like this—raw, uncensored, beautiful—makes something in him go feral—the last sliver of his patience snaps when you whimper out a ‘more, Kotarō’.

Legs thrown over his shoulders, fingers rubbing at your clit, his tongue darts out and into your needy hole, gasps and whines falling from your lips. Bokuto groans too, too lost in the feeling of your thighs squishing his head to hear you scream his name to the Heavens as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave—almost knocking you out—little sobs of overstimulation escaping you. He does, however, feel the tug on his hair and with one last lick and a tender kiss to your folds, he cleans you up, collecting your juices on his tongue and licking his lips. Golden eyes stare at you from between your legs, charming smile ever-present on his glistening face.

“You look so fuckin’ good ravaged like that, little bird. That fucked out face of yours is incredible,” he chuckles, raising himself to press a kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself. The groan he lets out against your mouth makes you mewl, and your arms circle around his neck. “I want to see it every single day. And my shirt looks perfect on you.” He laughs at your blush, foreheads pressing against one another.

“Your eyes are so pretty, Kō,” you whisper and his orbs soften immediately, gazing fondly at your form as you drift off to sleep, arms still tightly wrapped around his neck. Another delicate kiss is placed on your nose and you scrunch your face—he snorts, caressing your sides and flopping next to you, holding you gently.

Yeah, he won’t let you go too soon.

#haikyuu!! #bokuto x reader #bokuto x y/n #bokuto x you #bokuto smut #bokuto fluff #bokuto kotaro x reader #[ ⚡ : boundless ] #[ minty’s kitchen treats — chocolate syrup ] #bokuto kōtarō

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

like a secret in your throat

y’all asked for whump. y’all got whump. title from “Vampires Will Never Hurt You” by my all-time favorite band, My Chemical Romance

whump, hurt/comfort with a happy ending!

tw: manhandling the bard, vampire transformations (side character), non-sexy biting, blood mention, canon typical injuries/violence

---

Geralt looked up from his mug of ale when he realized that Jaskier had stopped playing. Instead, the bard was chatting merrily away with a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark cloak. The hood obscured most of the stranger’s face but Geralt caught the reflective glint of a bead or piece of metal braided into his matted black hair. An instinct tickled at the back of the Witcher’s head but Geralt couldn’t quite place the feeling. Something was wrong about this little tableau but he couldn’t figure out what it was; his medallion wasn’t reacting to anything in particular and Jaskier seemed perfectly happy, lost in conversation with the dark-haired man.

Geralt returned his gaze to his mug and let his mind wander.

Jaskier did seem perfectly happy to be without him on nights like these, when they were back in civilization and the extroverted bard could branch out and meet new people. That was the problem, in Geralt’s opinion. 

Lately the Witcher had found himself contemplating what life would be like on the Path if he decided to travel alone again. Winter wasn’t close enough for him to excuse himself and go North, but he’d developed a strange and uncomfortable dependence on the bard that he needed to be weaned away from. It wasn’t healthy for either of them. 

It wasn’t safe.

If he grew too close to Jaskier, then… 

Wouldn’t that be a weakness? Wouldn’t that be a vulnerability and a dangerous closeness? Geralt couldn’t risk forming a connection like that. He couldn’t allow himself to hope for something so organic and pure to develop between a half-monster and a youthful, bright-eyed bard; Witchers weren’t meant to get nice things. That was not his lot in life.

And yet…

Some mornings, when he only barely cracked his eyes open and used his heightened senses to peek across their campsite, he saw Jaskier looking back at him, a curious glint in those pretty blue irises. Geralt couldn���t pinpoint the emotion the bard’s face held; he was bad at that, and the uncertainty of the younger man’s feelings scared him. He could handle rejection, but acceptance? If Jaskier was as loving and openminded as Geralt thought him to be, it could prove to be a problem. Jaskier was too good for a Witcher. He didn’t deserve to be trapped by a life on the Path, dying too young because he was foolhardy and quick to fall in love.

The Witcher’s introspection came to an abrupt halt when the Jaskier in question appeared beside him, flushed and grinning. “Geralt, dear heart, are you ready to retire for the evening?”

“Are you asking me to bed?” the Witcher smirked, smothering the very real ache in his chest at the thought of curling up next to Jaskier like that. “Or do you need to borrow our room to entertain a guest?”

“Oh, no, I have no plans of that nature.” Jaskier’s already pink face darkened a shade and Geralt’s stomach flipped. “I’m actually rather tired. I was hoping to get some decent sleep tonight before we flung ourselves back into nature tomorrow.”

“Hmm. I’ll be along shortly. Don’t wait up.”

“See you in a bit then, dear heart.” 

And Jaskier disappeared up the stairs.

Unfortunately, the Witcher didn’t realize he wasn’t the only one watching Jaskier slip into their rented room with a longing expression on his face.

---

“We need to set up camp for the evening,” Geralt announced, bringing Roach to a stop and sliding gracefully down from the saddle. Jaskier loved the way his Witcher looked when he did that, like some kind of fairytale Prince or knight errant. The way his long, silver-white hair shifted and fluttered against his shoulders in the dusky light made him look more like a fantastical painting than a century-old Witcher; even with his scars and his pallid skin tone. 

The unconventionally enchanting sight made ballads stir in the most romantic corners of the bard’s busy mind. Words pooled and shifted behind his eyes, arranging themselves into neat rhyming couplets or quatrains. 

Geralt of Rivia, tall and fair,

With golden eyes and silver hair;

Whose glare could even douse the sun,

And send a Gryphon on the run.

The bard barely kept himself from sighing aloud as he removed his pack from across his shoulders and unfolded his bedroll and thin travel blanket. The material felt fragile between his calloused fingertips and he sighed forlornly,  “I’m going to need a new blanket soon.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it. And I’ll get Roach some new reins while I’m in town,” the bard waved his hand nonchalantly, as if spending money was no big deal. It really wasn’t, all things considered. They would be able to travel far more comfortably if Geralt would allow them to stop in Novigrad and access his University accounts more often. Alas, Witchers are stubborn creatures. “I see the way they chafe her poor muzzle, Geralt, so don’t argue. If you really insist you can pay me back by letting me write a song about the color of your eyes.”

“My… eyes?”

“They’re rather pretty, dear heart, and I think the world could do with a ballad about how they glow when you turn your face toward the sun.”

Geralt felt the back of his neck grow hot and he glanced away, “Hmm.”

“Well, let me know what you think in the morning. I don’t need an answer right away.”

Geralt finished setting up a decent pile of firewood and brought it to life with an efficient burst of Igni. He glanced across the flames to Jaskier and grunted, “I’m going to catch us some dinner. Make tea.”

“Yes, sir,” Jaskier saluted, smiling. Geralt rolled his eyes, grabbed his crossbow, and disappeared into the darkening treeline. Jaskier began to hum as he set up their tea kettle and filled it with water from the waterskin. The humming turned to quiet singing as he measured out two mugs worth of tea from the sachet of dried leaves. 

Singing that was cut off with a sharp, sudden cry.

---

Geralt heard the bard scream once. Only once.

The sound punctuated the air before leaving an uncomfortable, grating silence in its wake. 

The Witcher took off towards their campfire without a second thought, allowing his instincts to take over and guide him safely back, the potency of Jaskier’s fear hung thick and sour in the air, growing stronger the closer he came to their clearing. When he burst back into view, chest heaving from the sprint, he widened his eyes at the sight before him:

The cloaked figure from the tavern had Jaskier wrapped in his burly arms. One large, long-fingered hand had immobilized Jaskier’s wrists by pressing them into the dip at the base of the bard’s spine, forcing his elbows out and pressing his chest even tighter against the stranger’s. 

Jaskier looked up at Geralt beseechingly through his dark, damp lashes. His mouth opened in a silent cry of confusion and pain when the man tugged at his wrists and forced his arms to bend awkwardly. The bard wriggled and strained against the stranger’s iron grip in an effort to escape but the man only snarled in irritation and jerked him back into place. “Bad bard. Stay put, little thing.”

Geralt took a slow step towards his swords, trying to reassure Jaskier with his expression that: Everything will be okay. I will get you out of this. I will protect you and keep you safe… somehow. 

Jaskier needed Geralt to pay attention and protect him from harm.

Geralt had failed.

The Witcher watched with wide, horrified eyes as the hulking man keeping Jaskier captive shifted slowly into a far less humanoid form. The baubles braided into his hair jangled and clinked as his nose elongated and his eyes widened. His arms lengthened to form clawed bat-wings and his face thinned and covered over with a layer of grey fur. Fangs burst forth from his gums and slid over his previously humanesque canines. His voice, which had been rasping odd little sounds in the Witcher’s direction, faded into an terrible shriek. 

A Katakan. 

A Katakan that had snuck in and out of civilization without Geralt so much as smelling it; one that had Jaskier pinned against its chest, the claws of its unoccupied hand sharp and dangerous as they hovered near the bard’s ribcage, ready to pierce but unwilling to waste precious blood unless absolutely necessary. It screamed again, even more shrilly. “Want him!”

Geralt dove forward and pulled his silver sword from its sheath. He swung it in an elegant arc and narrowed his eyes, “Let him go and I might let you live.”

The Witcher’s words were a lie and they both knew it.

The Katakan twitched its long ears in annoyance and hauled Jaskier even closer. It wrenched his arms painfully and the bard whimpered, blue eyes filling steadily with tears. Geralt’s heart seized wretchedly in his chest and he tried his best to ignore it; he couldn’t let his feelings distract him until Jaskier was safe. 

“I want him,” the monster rasped, readjusting the bard in its grip. It turned Jaskier around until he was facing the Witcher, releasing his wrists just long enough to pull his hands around to the front before capturing them again. It grazed its two long fangs against the column of Jaskier’s throat and trilled happily. “He sings so pretty. Talks so sweet. Bet he tastes sweet like he talks.”

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed. “He does have a rather pretty singing voice. I suppose that’s why I can’t have you killing him.”

“But he will sing for me,” the vampire shrugged. It shook Jaskier like a toy and the bard’s tears finally fell. He whimpered again when the vampire leaned close and told him: “Sing, little thing. Let me pull lovely music from your veins.”

Jaskier shivered visibly. He gave a few panting, strangled sobs as he slipped into panic, too frightened to move with the vampire’s fangs so close to his neck. He wanted Geralt to finally swing that stupid sword and get this over with. He wanted to curl up in Geralt’s arms and never leave for the rest of his life. He wanted to be taken to Kaer Morhen and hidden away in safety, fuck his music career and the rest of the world. He wanted Geralt to stay in his presence forever, never letting him out of sight again. He wanted…

Before he could finish his thought there was a sharp, piercing, all-encompassing pain at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.

A keening wail filled the air once. 

The vampire bit down harder, its tongue sliding against the skin of the bard’s neck in an effort to urge the blood to exit faster. 

There was another high, piteous cry for help and then... 

The world went black.

---

When Jaskier opened his eyes again, the world was even darker than it had been before; mostly because the light from both the moon and their campfire was being blocked out by the broad plane of Geralt’s chest, which Jaskier found himself cradled against almost… lovingly. Above him, he heard the Witcher murmuring: “Jaskier, please. Please wake up, Julek. Come on, bard, I kn-”

“G-Geralt?” he managed to croak. He followed it with a very eloquent, “Hunh?”

“Jaskier,” the Witcher sagged with relief, pressing his forehead against the bard’s and breathing in deeply. He tightened his arms around Jaskier, pulling him even closer as his frown disappeared, “Melitele be blessed, you’re alive!”

“Should I not be?” Jaskier asked. He tried to sit up on his own and winced when a bright burst of pain flared out from his shoulder.

“The Katakan- You were bleeding so much and I-” Geralt was, as always, at a loss for words. Jaskier waited patiently, still feeling drowsy and half-alive, and allowed the Witcher to gather his thoughts. His neck ached and his left arm tingled fiercely every time he tried to flex his hand on that side. 

“Did it… Am I a vampire now?” he asked. The absurdity of the question broke Geralt from his confusion.

“No,” the Witcher answered swiftly. “You’re still very mortal-” a hand swept through Jaskier’s hair, calming him further “-And unfortunately still very fragile.”

“Are you going to beat yourself up over this for the next week and somehow twist it around until it’s all your fault?”

“Hmm,” Geralt looked away. Jaskier was still being held so very tenderly in his arms, laid across the Witcher’s lap like some kind of swooning maiden. He rather liked how close he was to Geralt and hoped to stay that way for just a little longer. The Witcher surprised them both by letting a full sentence slip into the air between them, “I don’t like seeing you hurt, Jaskier, especially not when… when I was close enough that I could have prevented it from happening at all.”

“Your medallion didn’t give you any hints about this thing back at the inn when I was talking to him? He seemed completely normal, if a little monosyllabic. I’m used to monosyllabic, anyway,” the bard joked, trying to lighten the mood somewhat. It didn’t work; Geralt lifted his head and stared into the fire, his brow already furrowed as he slipped into his private realm of self-loathing. Jaskier was still laying across his lap, his neck and shoulder giving off pulsing aches with every beat of his heart. 

Eventually the Witcher spoke again, his voice low and full of frustration. “Katakans are different, they don’t- they don’t set off my medallion the way other creatures do, and they can disguise themselves as people. They can move and talk like people; you saw it transform.”

“I did,” Jaskier grimaced. “And it wanted me to sing while it drank my blood.”

“You didn’t do very much singing,” the Witcher grumbled. “You screamed twice and fainted. It nearly dropped you.”

“If I remember correctly,” the bard smiled playfully, “Someone said my singing was too pretty for me to die.”

“Hmm.”

“It was you, Geralt. You said that.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier tried to sit up again and nearly passed out from the pain that screamed through the entire left side of his body. “I- Geralt, I-”

“What’s wrong, Julek?” the Witcher asked, adjusting the bard until he was more comfortably enclosed in Geralt’s arms, his back leaning against one of Geralt’s bent legs for support. Geralt’s other leg was straightened out before him and Jaskier let his calves fall atop the Witcher’s thick thighs. They looked like a painting, with Jaskier reclined as he was and Geralt looking at him like that.  

“Everything hurts, dear heart. My whole left side feels aflame.”

“It’ll burn like that for a day or so,” Geralt shushed him. “You bled quite a lot, you were bitten, and you hit the ground pretty hard.”

“You didn’t catch me?”

“I was a little busy beheading your attacker and keeping you from becoming a member of the undead,” Geralt scoffed. “Pardon me for not carrying you to safety first.”

“Well since you let me get injured, you have to kiss it better to gain your pardon,” the bard insisted. Geralt’s eyes widened comically and his hand clenched where it was resting on Jaskier’s lower back. 

“It’ll- It would hurt if I kissed your wound,” Geralt replied shakily, trying to escape while he still could. Jaskier wasn’t about to let him. Not again.

“Then you’ll just have to kiss my lips instead.”

“Jaskier?”

“Hush, Geralt. I know how you feel about me, and I feel much the same about you. Let’s skip the words bit, because I know that’s not your favorite, and get right to the kissing.”

“Oh, uh...” The Witcher allowed himself to smile. It was a soft, nervous thing but it made his eyes crinkle at the corners and Jaskier felt himself fall even further in love with his darling Geralt. “Alright.”

Geralt cupped the back of Jaskier’s head carefully, tilting his own chin down, and brought their lips together slowly. The bard’s lips were soft and plush and warm beneath his own, giving just slightly but not wilting beneath his touch. It was better than anything he could have imagined. When they pulled apart, Jaskier frowned. 

“Was it bad?” Geralt asked automatically, more nervous than he had ever been with another lover. 

“No,” Jaskier shook his head. “I just don’t think I’m healed yet. I may require another. Or several more.”

“Well, if the patient thinks it’s necessary,” Geralt grinned, leaning forward again. Jaskier pulled himself up a little to meet him, ignoring the lances of hurt in his arm. “I suppose...”

#geraskier #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fluff #whump and fluff #jaskier whump #katakan #yes i know they can also turn invisible #but that wasn't really gonna help the plot here so sorry #geraskier whump #whump with a happy ending #geraskier whump and fluff #bouncey's endless getting together fics #kissing #first kiss #getting together #jaskier in trouble #wounded jaskier #protective geralt

[ikevamp-shrine]

Hmm so i just had this idea, can i please request a drabble when when mc and dazai had their 'first time' ?? Naturally it would be a smut lol but i'd really appreciate it if you throw in some fluffs too, because i think making love with dazai is more goofy than a serious one! Thank you so much if you do this :)

Author: @ikevamp-shrine​

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character(s): Dazai, MC

Pairing: Dazai x MC

Words: 2072

Warnings: nsfw, vaginal penetration, Dazai being Dazai

Notes: So since this request says mc I’m gonna assume its referring to the in game female MC. Anyways, thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy and forgive me for just now answering your ask. (please don’t think I’m ignoring any request that has been sent in, I just haven’t gotten around to them- they will be done at some point.)

Preview: 

He traced his thumb over her bottom lip, rounding over the dip, pulling the plush pad of pink down from between her teeth. He glances up; the playful gaze gone from his eyes, instead replaced with the low burning of sizzling embers and wanton lust. He breathed in quick; her scent invaded his senses making him high on her. “Giving in to our most carnal desires, my dear.”

She swallowed thickly forcing his eyes to follow the movement of her throat. He smirked tensely. The tip of pulsating fangs caught the light as they slid from his gums. Dazai laughed lowly, his fingers wrapping around the exposed skin of her neck.

“Do you have any- “his yellowed eyes met hers, and suddenly he was all she could see- “idea... what I want to do to you?”

She opened her mouth to respond only to be cut off by a voice she had never heard the man before her use. Dangerous, lethal, lustful- a trickster warning those of his true power. “Do you have any clue to how hard it is to restrain myself from piercing your skin right now and claiming you as mine?”

“Dazai.”

He hums in response to her shaky voice, completely captivated by the parting of her lips as his face reveals nothing but an internal battle within himself. She gasped when his fingers find purchase on the soft curve of her hips, bringing their bodies flush together with a tug.

“What are we doing?” A bite of her lip has Dazai trembling.

He traced his thumb over her bottom lip, rounding over the dip, pulling the plush pad of pink down from between her teeth. He glances up; the playful gaze gone from his eyes, instead replaced with the low burning of sizzling embers and wanton lust. He breathed in quick; her scent invaded his senses making him high on her. “Giving in to our most carnal desires, my dear.”

She swallowed thickly forcing his eyes to follow the movement of her throat. He smirked tensely. The tip of pulsating fangs caught the light as they slid from his gums. Dazai laughed lowly, his fingers wrapping around the exposed skin of her neck.

“Do you have any- “his yellowed eyes met hers, and suddenly he was all she could see- “idea... what I want to do to you?”

She opened her mouth to respond only to be cut off by a voice she had never heard the man before her use. Dangerous, lethal, lustful- a trickster warning those of his true power. “Do you have any clue to how hard it is to restrain myself from piercing your skin right now and claiming you as mine?”

“I-.” She furrowed her brows, completely at lost as to what to say.

His grip on her throat tightened as Dazai loomed over her form, his wispy breaths of whispers tickling her ear like a lonely breeze. “I want you. All of you.”

He rested his cheek on her shoulder, glancing up at her wavering eyes with need, continuing, appearing vulnerable and innocent, “you want me to... don’t you?”

She nodded, not trusting her words.

Dazai pulled away, completely ridding the girl of his touch as her hand twitched, raising to grab at the thick fabric of his clothing. He grabbed her hand, tsking while murmuring, “I’m going to need a verbal consent to be sure you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

She panted, her eyes pleading and hands shaking. “Please Dazai. I need you.” His jaw clenched. “Did you know I’m a selfish man, my dear? I will not share.”

She pulled him to her. His silken hair dangled in the air, his hands slammed on either side of her head against the wall she was pressed to, steadying himself. Their foreheads touching, breaths mingling, and hearts yearning.

She gasped for air, her want building to unimaginable heights, “be selfish then. Take me and keep me as your own.”

Dazai stilled, his face dropping and tone depressed. “That’s unfair. You know I can’t resist when you say things like that.” He shook his head, a devilish smile appearing, his features morphing into fox like proportions.

“Ask and you shall receive, my dear,” he paused his words to lift the woman up, turning towards the bed, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist, “after all- “he laid her down on his sheets, gently tracing the buttons on her blouse, popping one open at a time- “I am nothing more than a poor writer pleased to be a servant to someone as radiant as you.”

Dazai’s lips caressed the soft skin of her exposed stomach. Chills rose along her flesh as his finger ran over the curve of her thigh, his body moving over her, his kisses leaving a burning path down her body. His hand wrapped under her knee, kneading slowly. Pushing her leg in the air, Dazai watched as her skirt slipped down the limb. His other hand gripped her hip. His face went blank. His glowing, yellow eyes observed the flush of her skin, the reddening marks he left on her stomach, the heave of her breasts that began to spill out of the cups of her bra, the plush of her lips, and the blatant need in her eyes. His head tilted. Silky bangs hiding one side of his face. He whispered, “say my name.”

She shivered when his tongue met the sensitive expanse of her calf, lapping slowly up to her ankle. “Dazai.”

His fangs nibbled at her toes; her shoes previously discarded on the floor. MC gasped, her leg jerking at the ticklish sensation.

“Who do you belong to?” Dazai growled lowly, his eyes flashing.

MC moaned as his teeth dug into the front of her ankle. “You, you- only you.”

Dazai hummed, his eyes drifting closed as he opened himself to the intense emotions and rising tension. Muscles twitched under his mouth as he tracked back down her leg, his hand sliding from her hip to the waist band of her skirt, tugging the fabric off and tossing it to the floor. Opening his eyes, lids hooded with lust, the writer inhaled sharply at the spread of her hips before him. Her hands gripped at his sheets when he descended upon the growing wet spot on her panties.

She stopped breathing, her breath catching in her throat, when the male flattened his tongue over her clothed entrance; his moan vibrating through her at the taste. Her knees bent over his broad shoulders- broader that what they appeared. She felt his muscles tense and ripple as he sucked and licked at her through her underwear, his saliva mixing with her damp want. Her legs began to tremble when sharp teeth bit the cloth of her panties; her heart fluttered dangerously as Dazai pulled them off with his lips.

He looked utterly feral as he rose above her, regal even. Majestic, powerful. Like a snake slithering around its prey, soon to wrap around its form and swallow the defenseless creature whole. Dazai flicked his tongue out to lick over the glimmering points of his fangs, still tasting MC on his lips. His skin appeared to shimmer in the candle light, his pupils dilating and nostrils flaring as he nuzzled his face into her inner thigh. His breath fanned over the apex of her thighs, his low laugh shifting through the air when he saw her clench with excitement.

“Look at how obedient you are being. Spreading yourself just for me… I might just give you a reward.” They met gazes; she felt dizzy.

Dazai’s fingers dipped into her, coating the digit as she groaned. He curled inside of her, his jaw clicking at the tightness. He already knew he would struggle with not being completely consumed by the thought of her. He pumped slowly, building her up only to push himself knuckles deep, adding another finger. She moaned louder at the sudden stretch.

Dazai’s brows furrowed with concentration and MC barely heard him speak.

“I hope the walls are thick.”

She panted, confused. “W-what?”

He glanced back up at her reddened face, murmuring, “I hope the walls are thick or our neighbors will hear every pretty moan of yours.”

Her eyes widened when he reached above her head, knocking on the wall, mind blanking as she watched the writer smile expectantly at the barrier behind her. Another knock sounded back making her blood run cold.

Dazai shifted his gaze back down at her, smirking flippantly at her baffled expression. “Not so thick after all, I guess.”

MC blushes, opening her mouth, huffing embarrassingly.

Dazai shifts, leaning back on his haunches, knees bent under him. He brings MC with him, pulling her to straddle his lap. His hands rests on her lower back as he watches her, amused at how desperately she tries to untie his clothing, her embarrassment forgotten.

Her hands shake, her whine tumbling past her teeth when the knot tightens instead of coming apart.

Dazai rubs his hands around the globe of her bottom, soothing her. The knot finally comes undone and MC slips her hands under his clothing, pushing the fabric back, relishing in the smoothness of his skin beneath her finger tips. His clothing pools on the bed, catching at his elbows making him appear as if he was a fertility god ripe for the taking.

With tensing muscles and sweat damp skin, Dazai crashes his lips onto hers, their tongues fighting for dominance. His fingers flex against her skin, his form flinching when he feels MC grip the heavy weight of his cock between her palm, pumping and squeezing. A breathless moan follows and Dazai’s head falls limp between the junction of MC’s shoulder as she jerks his manhood; her thumb rubbing over the sensitive slit, smearing what seeps out along the smoothness of his skin.  

His stomach tenses, his mouth pulled into a grimace. Dazai grips MC’s wrists, stopping her, whispering shakily, “easy. I want to make this last.”

He takes a nipple within his mouth. It pebbles between his teeth, darkening as she throws her head back, scratching her nails against his scalp. He reaches between them to rub the swollen head of his cock against her clit. Her wetness drips down her thigh, dampening the cloth still trapped around Dazai’s thighs.

“Damn it, stop teasing me,” MC groans out, frustrated and impatient.

“The best things come to those who wait,” Dazai grins.

She digs her nails into his nape in warning, forcing a hiss from the writer. He glanced up at her heated eyes, smirking impishly around her nipple.

He snorts. “Ok, ok. Stop abusing this poor man.”

She breathes heavily, his tongue lapping at her chest, moving up her collar bone; he sucks at the pulse of her neck as he pushes the tip of his cock into her sopping heat. MC whimpers.

Dazai’s arm cages her, wrapping around her middle, holding her still as he slips deep within her.

“Ah! Dazai...” MC mewls, hugging his shoulder as they begin to rock together.

The writer whines at the heat gripping his cock. They lose each other in themselves. Clawing at the other’s skin in hopes of leaving a mark. They become one; feeling their bodies slide against each other, their minds fuzzy and hearts entwining.

“My dear,” Dazai growls, his fangs dropping further than they had before, his throat screaming with the need for it to be cooled by the one he craves, “I need... please, let me.”

His head is pushed back into the curve of MC’s neck as she nods at his begging, knowing and willing for him to take what he wants.

Dazai places his lips loosely over her skin, lightly brushing her with his lips, kissing delicate flesh stained with effects of his actions. Allowing his teeth to scrape against her, his eyes shoot open when she moans out.

“-close,” she mumbles, her body tensing and back arching.

He feels the tight fluttering of her walls around him as he sinks his fangs deep within her skin, holding her tight so she doesn’t rip his fangs through her flesh while she bucks wildly; waves of pleasure crashing over her, overwhelming her, dragging her down the river of ecstasy. Dazai grunts sharply, pulling himself out of her warmth to spurt thick ropes of white along the quivering planes of her stomach. Rolling his hips in the air, Dazai’s illuminated eyes grow blurry; his mind suffocating with the pleasure and the taste of his lover.

He sucks once roughly, his brows pinching together, face pained. Slowly removing his long canines from MC when she stills; her back shivered, rising and falling quickly.

She exhales when his tongue, slick with her blood, laps weakly at the puncture wounds upon her neck, helping it to heal. Exhaustion seeps deep within her bones as they bask in the aftershocks of their love making, holding each other close, her head on his chest listening to the steady thumps of his heart.

“Still with me?” Dazai questions. Euphoria makes his voice heavy and lazy.

She nods.

Dazai uses his sleeve to wipe his cum from her skin, pressing their cheeks together. He tenderly strokes her spine as he takes in the warmth of her companionship. “Stay?”

MC falls back dragging Dazai with her. They both laugh as she digs her nose into the crease of his breasts. He kisses the top of her head when she responds, her voice thick with the need for rest, their legs tangling as they slowly drift off to sleep, “always.”

Tagging @dazaiswindow @alby-rei @gallifreysperfectrose @nishtharya @robin-the-enby for saying yes on my previous post

SHOTS MATERLISTS

MASTERLIST

ABCs SMUT MASTERLIST

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen series #ikevam #ikevam dazai #ikemen vampire dazai #ikevamp dazai #ikevam fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikevam fanfic

[albatris]

hey ho it's nanowrimo day 15

today's word count is 28,455

today............... sure is monday!

you get two different excerpts and two different Quinns in The Excerpt Zone today, you get one :3 Quinn and one early-ish-story downright fucking bastard Quinn and I do not mean that in a fun way

first up,

"Excuse me, please." Nat offered Margaret a polite but seething smile, and picked up the phone to address the waiting customer. "Good morning! This is Nat Finch speaking. I'm calling from..." He craned over Quinn's desk, rifling through the clutter, hoping for a stray business card or some company-identifying stack of sticky notes to jog his memory. He came up empty. "...oh, you know what company I'm calling from, of course! How are you today?"

"I was speaking to someone named Quinn earlier," the voice, presumably belonging to one Ms. Holland, informed him. "They said they were going to call me back."

"Quinn's dead," Nat said cheerily. "I'm the new hire. I'm Quinn's replacement."

"I was... I was talking to them two hours ago. Is this a joke?"

"No. The hiring process here is very efficient."

He tipped back in his chair to eye off Quinn by the coffee machine, who was currently waiting for their mug to fill. They gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up, then motioned for him to continue.

Quinn's instructions for leaving Nat on call centre phone duty were "just say whatever you want lmao no one cares"

next one is. hm. trigger warning for self-inflicted injury and also extremely extremely bad vibes

under cut as is the rest of the update. I feel dicey about posting it

"Quinn, you—you know I'm not strong enough to push us out of here," Nat said, panicking. "There's no way I—just let me go find someone to help, okay? We still have time. We—"

Quinn snatched the metal water bottle from the drink holder and placed their left hand on top of the steering wheel, their fingers spread. Before Nat even realised what was happening, they lifted the bottle up and brought it smashing down into the back of their hand. Then they did it again. And again. Rapidly. Mercilessly. Nat heard the sickening crack of splintering bone. Blood splattered onto the dashboard. Alex inhaled sharply from the back seat.

Quinn placed the bloodied metal bottle gently back in its place, their face still blank. They held their mangled hand out to Nat, red dripping off their fingertips. Their voice was dead cold. "Then fucking make yourself strong enough."

The sweetness swarmed into Nat's nose and he jerked back away from the door, stumbling down onto the asphalt, a hand flying up to cover his mouth. Pain fireworked through his jaw as fangs tore themselves free from his gums, jagged and clumsy, several piercing straight through his lip. Hunger twisted agonisingly in his stomach and the Garble drove itself into his legs, his arms, flooding him with power and adrenaline, preparing his body for the hunt.

"Get up," Quinn spat, "and push."

Nat choked on the thirst that tore at his throat. Nat choked on a sob.

Nat got up, and pushed.

yeah definitely I think a quick "hey Nat maybe if you smell some of my blood we can trick/lure the garble into giving you the necessary strength to help us get out of here" would have gone a long way and Nat probably would have agreed but the only thing going on in Quinn's head at this point is "my best friend is minutes away from death and I don't give a shit about anything or anyone else right now"

it's the first time in the story Quinn is legitimately fucking terrified and scared Quinn is scary Quinn

dick move nonetheless. n in general at this point in the story, while Quinn has been mostly pleasant to Nat, they still view him as a mostly tool to be used and not much else which uh. makes itself somewhat apparent here

as soon as they've calmed down a bit they're like "yeah that was pretty fucked and crossed a lot of lines I'm sorry I did that" and Nat says nothing bc Nat does not speak to Quinn for three days

Alex is fine, btw. and is also just sort of like "look I get it but fucking yikes dude 😬" at Quinn

also yeah Quinn just forfeited use of that hand for. a long fucking time

anyway sorry for the Oof excerpt. I have fun posting fun excerpts but also This Story Is Not Fun. do not follow anyone's example in this story except maybe Lloyd's

today's mood is a consistent 13.6mmol/L (my body has decided to hate me for some reason) and today's jam is "human sadness" by the voidz (it is ten minutes long)

goodnight. tomorrow I go shopping for Crafts and Items

#self harm tw #? i guess #like. i HAVE told you that particularly early quinn is. a rather callous person who doesn't care about much #they improve! they do. but also i have told you that the nat/quinn relationship is tender and sweet but also super fucking yikes #the power dynamic shifts to something much closer to an equal balance as the story wears on but i am still like #yeah you're horrible. you're fun as a character! but fucking yikes man #like they just do nooooot start out in a good or okay vibe at all and while they grow to care for each other so fucking much #it's also still very flavoured by Yikes because of just #what they're like as people and some of their history #anyway yeah #brutalising your own hand in spectacularly bloody fashion in a car with two extremely stressed out vampires is kind of a ballsy move #just communicate a little better next time yeah? #a rental car takes a left down rake street and disappears #also yes their names are. Nathaniel Finch and Quinn Cooper #alex yvonne lloyd and riley have no other names yet #Margaret gets a :))))) from nat because Margaret keeps trying to get everyone to join her pyramid scheme lmao #just popped her head over and was like ''hello stranger. boy do I have a proposition for you :)''

[footballffbarbiex]

Father’s Day blurb 5.

Player: John Stones.  Words: 546 Request:  Making a scrapbook with all the baby photos of your son and some cute ones. John gets all emotional as he re-lives all the memories.

“And this one," John points as he turns the page. His fingers hover over the picture, the date written beneath in your scrawl. “Shit, I don’t even think he was crawling then.” Your son Daniel is sitting on the grass, tears streaking his face after a tremendous breakdown because he didn’t like the feel of it. Few babies do, and Daniel was another baby to add to that list. He had cried and cried until he was picked up and placed on a thick blanket. Even then he was hesitant and shooting daggers at the two of you as he sucked on his fist, making the perfect picture moments later. 

“Nope, but he was damn well trying to, to be able to get back onto that blanket.” you add, leaning your head against his arm as John continues to flick through.  

Memories upon memories laid out in colour before the two of you. After downloading several free printing apps where only the postage needed paying, you’d decided to take advantage and order as many as possible, whilst paying for a few canvas prints of the ones you absolutely loved. John wasn’t for the idea of having so many photos up, but once he saw them in their frames and within the scrapbooks, he couldn’t help stopping and reliving some of the times splayed across the pages.  

“His first holiday, obviously it had to be skeggy.” he chuckles, eyes not budging from the shot of Daniel sitting on a donkey with the biggest smile on his face. His sun hat blocks most of his face, but sun cream streaks across his cheeks, nose, and chin. His grin is wide, showing off the three teeth that had popped through the gum only two days before, giving him both relief from the continuous teething pains but also a few found pain as he discovered he could grind them against one another. The sound of it still goes through you and makes you involuntarily shudder at the memory. Chocolate ice cream is still around his mouth, but he seems unbothered. 

Daniel looks so much like John. From the same unruly dark hair and piercing light eyes, but he had your personality, a mix of your humours and certainly John’s charm. His teachers at nursery have a lot to say about the way he’s able to talk his way out of situations and John couldn’t be prouder.  

“Y’know, I think we should have another,” he says, resting the scrapbook upon his thighs as he turns to look at you. Stubble covers his jaw and cheeks, making you want to reach up and stroke over it. You burn under his stare, one that is so intense you feel as though you’d agree to anything he asked right now.  

“You want another baby?” you repeat, knowing full well that he’d said previously he’d like to have more. This wasn’t a complete surprise, though the timing did.  

“It’s a good time. Dan’s gonna be going to big school soon, it’s not like we haven’t got the money or space here.” John shrugs, “I’d like another with you. For him to have a sibling.” 

“I’d like that too,” you smile at him, leaning forward a little more to press a light kiss to his lips.

forevers:   @kxndrixx​ |  @christhickevans​  | @degea-drama-llama​ | @evie-pr​ | @meteora-fc​  |  @anakindoesntlikesand​ |  @lawsandother​ | @spursondele​  |   @footballerimaginess​   |    @pom277​    | @emilielfc   |   @sunslittlesister​ |   @layazul​   |  @donkeykai​   | @football-and-fanfics​ | @penguintransporter​ | @fanfictionstuffmostly​ | @judexbellingham​  | @dclsbaby​

premier league: @domspeach

#amy's father's day blurbs 2021 #john stones one shot #john stones imagine #john stones blurb #john stones drabble #john stones fanfic #john stones fanfiction #football one shot #football imagine #football blurb #football drabble #football fanfic #football fanfiction #footballer one shot #footballer imagine #footballer blurb #footballer drabble #footballer fanfic #footballer fanfiction

[mochiiwrites]

🍁✨Autumn Troupe Headcanons!✨🍁

Hooray for more uncensored swearing! Sorry, this took so long! It’s hard to think of things for the Autumn Troupe since I don’t know them super well!

🍁🧡Banri Settsu🧡🍁

Whenever it's time for practice, Banri begins by smacking the back of Juza's head! (Not super hard, but enough for it to piss him off)

Diluc main, that is all. Before he got Diluc he was an Amber main, and somehow was good. Still uses her every once in a while!

Slightly intimidated by languages sometimes, I dunno how to explain it, so hopefully the dialogue does!

“Banri, come here for a second.”

“Hell no, I’m in the middle of a match right now.”

“Banri.”

“Sit your ass down and wait, Chikage! I’m busy!”

"Halika dito! Huwag kang humintay na papatayin kita at iwanan kitang dumugo sa lansangan! Inumin ng mga aso ang iyong dugo at kukunin ng mga uwak ang iyong laman. Gusto mo yan?!" ("Come here! Don't wait for me to kill you and leave you bleeding in the street! Dogs will drink your blood and crows will take your flesh. Do you want that ?!" ) I'm unsure of the translation, since the filipino was from Irumaaaaa_saaaaamaaaaa's comment on my Ao3! I just put it into google translate

“Damn! Fine, fine, I’m comin! Chill out!”

His older sister gave him a leopard plushie when he was a kid, which is why he’s fucking obsessed with animal prints!

Plays drums and almost broke the coffee table because he “jammed too hard” on it!

Constantly messing up Taichi’s hair, or he’s drumming to songs on his head.

*boom boom bap boom boom bap*

“Buddy, you're a boy, make a big noise, playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday! You got mud on your face, you big disgrace! Kicking your can all over the place, singin'-”

“We will, we will rock you!”

“Haha! Hell yeah!”

🍁💜Juza Hyodo💜🍁

Likes carrying Muku or Kumon on his shoulders! Sometimes they still parade around!

“Are you sure about this, Ju-chan?”

“Yeah, you’re real light, y’know.”

“What the hell are you doing, Hyodo? Practice is soon.”

Chews on things a lot when he’s nervous! He always has gum or a lollipop to avoid chewing on his shirt, his nails and other inedible things!

Uses shorter Mankai members as an armrest, but only the ones who are okay with it! He’s polite like that.

On nights where he just can’t sleep, he’ll go on walks or drive around on his motorcycle!

Terrible with eye contact and looking like he’s paying attention. Sakyo has to snap his fingers at him to make sure he’s listening!

Y’know the awkward sibling hug from Gravity Falls, he and Kumon have done that...a lot. It’s not actually awkward though, they just liked the show!

“Awkward sibling hug?”

“...Awkward sibling hug.”

*embrace*

“...pat, pat.”

....

“Hyodos, what the hell?”

🍁💖Taichi Nanao💖🍁

Cried twice when he got his piercings, the first time was because he was very, very afraid, the second time was because he was so happy that he looked good with them!

Has Heelys! One time, he tried to 'heely' into the rehearsal room, but he immediately fell over!

Plays the ukulele! He wanted to play guitar because he saw someone serenading their partner with it at school! He borrowed Masumi's guitar but bar chords suck and his hands are kinda small, so he settled for the uke!

"Aghhh! How do you play that! That hurts my fingies!"

"I have bigger hands and more experience."

"But you're only like an inch taller than me!"

"Height doesn’t really have anything to do with this."

Has a Tiktok! He doesn't post often, it's more for looking at memes or sick outfits. (He does the dances though! He's pretty good at them but they're all in his drafts since he's not super confident in them!)

Y’know how kids crawl up the stairs really fast. He does that. Constantly. Kazunari joins in, sometimes. It pisses Sakyo off a lot, but he gave up on trying to get them to stop.

"Taicchan, what are you doing?"

"Kazu-kun! I got the zoomies!"

"Nice! Can I join ya?"

"For sure!"

*Rapid thumping up the stairs*

"Aren't you gonna stop them, Sakyo?"

"...If I had that ability, they would've stopped a long time ago. Those idiots don't listen."

He LOVES Sk8 The Infinity! Langa's his favourite character! He's also probably a Reki kinnie!

🍁💙Omi Fushimi💙🍁

(It's blue like his regular shirt and Tumblr doesn't have any other colours ;-;)

Despite being tone-deaf, he hums a lot when he cooks! No one seems to mind it!

Enjoys scrapbooking! He kind of prefers scrapbooks to albums, since scrapbooks have a more homemade vibe, you know?

Gives the best hugs, and tends to hold hands with the younger members when they cross the street!

Regularly has this conversation!

“Banri, have you eaten?”

“I dunno Omi, have YOU eaten?”

“...I have. But that's not what I’m concerned about.”

“...I had a granola bar like, an hour ago.”

“...I’m making you something.”

When he first joined the company, he took notes on what everyone liked and didn't like to eat, plus if they had allergies! He still has it, he just doesn't need to use it anymore!

I feel like something like this has happened once!

“Ah, Omi! Can you help me grab something?”

“Oh, sure. What do you need, Sakuya?”

“Homare asked me to get some of that tea, but I can’t rea-”

*lifts Sakuya like Simba*

“Ah! Omi, haha! What are you doing?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it! Do you want me to stop?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine! It’s kinda fun actually.”

🍁💛Sakyo Furuichi💛🍁

Absolutely blind without his glasses, like it’s really bad. He walked into a doorframe without his glasses. Thankfully, no one noticed (he thinks).

He has a bit of bubble-wrap in his a pocket all the time and sometimes he uses it as a threat! (Hopefully that made sense...)

“Settsu, move over.”

“I literally can’t! Your fat ass is taking too much space!”

*pop*

“Just scoot your lazy ass over.”

*pop*

“I can’t I already-”

*pop*

“...Alright, I get it! I’ll shut up! Jeez, how is that so threatening...”

“...Asshole.”

*pop*

“...Sorry.”

Definitely told Azami that Santa wasn’t real when he was like 6.

Sakoda got him a mug that said #1 Dad but he crossed it out and replaced ‘Dad’ with ‘Aniki’! Sakyo still drinks out of it, sometimes!

Azami also made him a friendship bracelet when he was a lot younger. Sakyo doesn’t wear it (because it doesn’t fit him anymore) but he still has it! He likes rubbing the beads between his fingers.

Good at trivia! Like, really good. He somewhat enjoys Trivia Murder Party. (I just watched a play through and skipped to a random question, I have no idea if it’s actually hard lol.)

“Which body of water connects the Mediterranean Sea to the Atlantic Ocean?”

“Wh- How are we supposed to know that?!”

*Sakyo answers ‘The Strait of Gibraltar’ and is the only one who answers correctly*

“Fuck, my thumb slipped.”

“That shouldn’t be allowed. Sakyo’s shitty and old, he shouldn’t be able to know and remember things.”

“Oi, brat. I’m not that old. You’re not the one who got the answer right.”

“You’re not the one who literally never learned this!”

🍁❤️Azami Izumida❤️🍁

Has smacked too many cans/cups out of Itaru and Tsuzuru’s hands!

“Wh-”

“Drink actual water. And jeez, go take a nap or something. Your skin is even worse than I thought it could get. Aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one in the Spring Troupe?”

“Ah... I guess, you are right. Thanks for looking out for me.”

“W-well! W-we can’t have you on stage looking like a raisin! S-so!”

Often criticizes Izumi’s eyeliner and ends up just doing it for her. N-not that he minds or anything!

Played Love Nikki at some point, I do not take that much criticism.

Because I think the troupe/play themes are canon, he definitely helped with Shake the Shape and wrote some of RESPAWN!

Always has extra hair ties on him, even though most of the others don’t really need them. Most of the time, the hair ties end up being used for...other purposes.

“Ready.”

“What?”

“Aim.”

“Azami, I swear to whatever god is listening, if you fire that elasti-”

“Fire.”

“...You shitty brat-”

“Oh shi-”

Part of the ‘wears nail polish’ squad! He hates stickers. (Most of the time they somehow fall off) His go-to is an alternating pattern of black and red.

#a3! incorrect quotes #a3! headcanons #Autumn toupe #Banri Settsu headcanons #Juza Hyodo headcanons #Taichi Nanao headcanons #Omi Fushimi headcanons #Sakyo Furuichi headcanons #Azami Izumida headcanons #Autumn Troupe headcanons #akigumi

[amerrierworld]

Supposed To Be

Ocean’s 8 fanfiction

request: the reader finds out what Tammy does at party with the girls and maybe gets angry at Tammy for not telling her and lying to her. Then hets angry at everyone else and they all fell guilty. And maybe tammy says something that’s losses the reader of more. Then the reader walking out. The next morning the reader is ignoring all the texts and calls from Tammy and the girls. Tammy going over to talk to her...

Summary: Tammy is planning something for you with the team, but can’t let you know about it.

Characters: Tammy x fem!reader, the Ocean’s girls, (divorced!Tammy)

Word Count: 2,550

Warnings: Angst angst angst angst angst angst!!!!!! Miscommunication!! Hurt & comfort! Eventual happy ending :)

You first started feeling uneasy when Tammy’s text responses went from excited paragraphs and emojis to one-word answers. It was such a simple thing, but you barely got to see her in person some weeks, and this was the only thing that kept you connected.

After an inevitable divorce, Tammy moved to the city to be closer with the entire group, sharing custody of her children every other week. It had been stressful, but you had been there for her every step of the way, and a fruitful, happy romance had blossomed.

But now, even after all those months, there was a sudden barrier you couldn’t seem to get through. Her phone calls were hasty, her texts short, and no one else in the group seemed concerned like you were. You got no updates on her kids, which usually she couldn’t stop taking about. Frankly, it felt like she had gotten tired of you.

So, you shut your phone off and went out for the rest of the day, window-shopping and wandering around the city to get your fuming mind off of things. 

-

On the other side of the city, in Lou’s spacious loft, Tammy had gathered the other ladies, vigorously typing lists on her phone as she paced back and forth.

“Really, Tam, you’re overthinking this! Why do you feel the need to go through all this?” Lou sighed, swirling her glass of rye. 

“Because it has to be just right,” Tammy snapped back. 

Everyone knew how detail-oriented and perfectionist Tammy was. It was a life-saver for criminal activity and ensured safety for the gang to get through undetected. But sometimes, in ordinary life, it was a bit overkill.

“I really don’t think Y/N needs all this, babe,” Nineball added, lounging in a large, velvety bean bag and a joint between her lips. “Lou’s right, you’re overthinking it.”

“Listen, she’s my girlfriend, and this is my plan. Can you please just be a little bit supportive of this?” Tammy threw her hands up, exasperated. 

“Her birthday isn’t for another month,” Debbie pointed out.

“Exactly, I’m already running behind!”

The remaining seven shared a few bemused glances before Daphne handed Tammy a glass of wine to calm down. Debbie sighed, pulled up a chair and reached for the snack bowl.

“Alright, what’s the plan, TamTam?”

-

You still had one of Lou’s door keys from the last heist, and figured it was the best time to return it. It was starting to get late, and it was a bit of a walk, but you didn’t mind. The fresh air did good for your nerves and bad mood. 

You hadn’t seen Lou in ages either, so you figured a quick catch-up was needed too. Not even thinking, you used the key to let yourself in, washed over by warm light coming from inside, and-

Laughter? Music?

You froze. The first person you saw, of course, was Tammy. Your eyes were drawn to her in any room, always. She was laughing, nursing a drink in her hand, chatting with Lou and Debbie, who looked equally as pleased.

There was popcorn popping in the microwave, and the TV was showing a movie. Your heart sank little by little, as you realized that yes, they really had gotten tired of you. You didn’t register the pile of paper and notes on the coffee table, at all.

Lou saw you first, and went a little pale. She registered the keys in your hands were hers, and it clicked in her brain why you were there. She nudged Debbie, who immediately turned off the music, as if they’d been caught doing something illegal.

Then Tammy turned her head and saw you, her beautiful smile fading away instantly. Her mouth hung open a little, as if she didn’t know what to make of you standing there, in the flesh.

Suddenly your confusion melted into anger, and your heart broke little by little as they stood there, staring at you, not even bothering to say anything.

You tossed the keys to the floor, turned around, and slammed the front door shut. 

-

No one was moving. Tammy’s brain was lagging, still trying to register why you  looked so distraught, so betrayed. The rest of the group eyed her shyly. Constance had a mouth full of popcorn that she was afraid to chew down on because of how loud it would be in the silence.

“You fucking idiot,” Rose was the first to speak up- Tammy was shocked to hear her swear. “What’re you doing jus’ standing there? Get out and go after her!”

“Yeah,” Amita said, “she didn’t look too happy when seeing all of us.”

“Did you tell her where you would be today, Tam?” Debbie questioned her, looking her squarely in the eye. Tammy bit her lip, and shook her head. Cue a collective frustrated groan. 

“Tammy, we love you, but you can be so stupid sometimes,” Lou said, grabbing her glass from her. “Go on!”

Tammy nearly stumbled over her heels as she hurried after you, fearing she wouldn’t be able to find you in the dark.

“Y/N?” she called out, frantically looking out as the door closed behind her. She  spun around, looking left and right. “Y/N!”

“Stop yelling,” you snapped. She turned and saw you leaning against a streetlamp, face washed in eerie light. 

“You’re still here,” she said, relieved.

“No, I’m just waiting for a cab,” you said, not meeting her gaze. “You should go back to your party.”

“Do you want to come inside?” she asked you, wringing her hands.

“No, thanks,” you said, shoving your hands deep in your pockets. “I wasn’t invited, so.”

“Oh, Y/N, I didn’t mean to-,”

“No, no, you clearly did,” you shook your head, interrupting her. “It’s fine, really. But next time you get sick of me, have the fucking courtesy to actually break up with me, please?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re barely answering any of my texts, and every time we talk you’re miles away. And now you’re throwing a party with the whole team, except for me. What gives?”

“It’s not what you think!”

“What the hell am I supposed to think, then? Do you even realize what the past few weeks have been like for me? Jesus, Tammy, I’ve been worried sick.”

Tammy didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to lose you, she knew she couldn’t lose you, but to explain the plans and explain everything she’d prepared would ruin so, so much.

“Y/N, I love you with my entire heart. I can explain, I promise.”

“No, forget it,” a cab pulled up to the sidewalk and you yanked open the door. “Come back when you’ve made up your mind, I guess. Unless it’s something I don’t want to hear. Bye, Tammy.”

With that, the cab sped away, and you left a stunned Tammy standing on the sidewalk.

-

It was nearly two weeks later. You didn’t know how on earth you got this far without talking to Tammy at all, but you figured you made it clear where you stood. If she never talked to you again, you understood the message, and you were through.

A bit overdramatic, maybe, you wondered? If it was, you weren’t prepared to be the first one to cave. You wouldn’t go begging and crawling back to her. You were too stubborn and proud- even with the constant crying over the past few days.

You were sitting at a bar, drinking a sweet and fruity drink while watching some mindless sports game on the monitor when a familiar blonde slid into the seat next to you.

“Go away,” you said, not looking at Lou. She  waved her hand, and the bartender set to work on a drink for her.

“Good evening to you too, sweetheart,” she said. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. This is my bar after all,” she received her drink and took a big gulp, leaning forward on the bar and looking over at you.

“No it isn’t,” you frowned, trying to piece your memory together. “Your club is dozens of blocks from here.”

“Yeah, and then I bought almost every bar and club on this side of the city. You’re looking at one rich-ass owner, Y/N.” Lou grinned, but you couldn’t be bothered to return the smile.

“Well, congrats Lou. No need to rub it in. Some of us are meant to just be broke.”

“Since when did you become such a downer?”

“Uh, since my girlfriend decided her life was better off without me?” you scoffed.

“Is that really what she said to you?” Lou asked, blue eyes piercing. You shifted in your seat.

“Not exactly, but I know when people are tired of me,” you muttered. “Walking in on the whole team who went through hell together having a party without me kinda sends a clear message.”

Lou chewed her lip, and sighed. She pushed the empty glass away from her and took her time to unwrap a stick of gum. 

It was quiet between the two of you as she got up and straightened her jacket, flicking her bleach blonde hair away from her eyes.

“It wasn’t a party, Y/N,” she said. “Talk to Tammy. She’s been absolute shit the past week.”

You bristled, not wanting to think about Tammy again. But Lou left you to it, paying for your drink, and headed out the door. You rubbed your face, tired, and lonely, and cursing yourself for letting it get this far. 

Hesitantly, you took out your phone, reading the ‘six new voicemails’ notification, and lingering your finger over the green listening button. All from Tammy. 

“Hey, Y/N. Giving me a taste of my own medicine, huh?” A weak laugh. “I’m sorry for not responding or talking more with you.. you have every right to be angry.”

You got up and headed home slowly, going through each voicemail carefully, listening at least twice.

“God I don’t even know where to start. It’s been so... empty without you. Please call me soon? There’s so much I want to tell you.”

Turning multiple corners, you put on your sunglasses, hoping it would hide the tears threatening to spill over. 

“I feel terrible. And the girls are mad at me for letting you get away. Not-not like you ran away, but- but not fighting for you, you know? For such a stupid, stupid reason too. I, uh, hm... I miss you.”

I miss you. You stared at your front door, listening as the voicemail ended, frozen. You were mere steps from getting inside, but there was something in the way.

Tammy looked over her shoulder, standing on your doorstep, and you nearly burst into tears all over again. She was startled just like you were, surprised to see you there.

Your arm dropped limply to your side, voicemail forgotten, and you took a shaky breath,

“I miss you too.”

-

You sat across each other awkwardly. You offered her a cup of tea, she politely declined. Tammy was carrying a large tote bag with things inside, and you were intrigued, but didn’t make any effort to start the conversation. You would remain stoic, and not cave. No matter how beautiful she looked, how rosy her cheeks were, how done up her hair was. But there were giant bags under her eyes that you could not ignore, and something pulled at your heartstrings. 

“You look well,” Tammy said, smiling weakly.

“No I don't,” you replied. Her face fell. “Neither do you.” Ouch. 

“Crazy what only two weeks can do to a person, right?” she chuckled hoarsely.

She continued, “I realize that... that I didn’t handle things very well, with how it ended.. on the sidewalk that night.”

“Hmm.”

Her fingers were shaking, and your resolve nearly crumbled. She reached into the bag and grabbed a massive binder, nearly bursting with the amount of pages. Your name was written in thick letters on the front. 

“This is why I wasn’t talking to you,” she muttered, bashfully. “And I realized that keeping this a secret from you isn’t worth the risk of losing you.. like, actually losing you and never getting to have you in my life again.”

Your mouth fell open as you turned to the first page. It was one of those massive wedding planner books that some young girls like to have when dreaming of their future wedding. 

Only it was for your birthday. Lists and lists of your favourite music, your favourite foods, restaurants, colours and clothes. Plans for venues, DJs, special outings and reservations. Plans for each member of the team to take care of little things; drinks, dances, meals, performers...

“Oh my god,” you whispered.

“It was going to be your first birthday with the two of us really together. It was supposed to be a surprise... perfect and special. I guess I went a little over the top..” she rubbed her neck with her hand and blushed.

“Tammy... oh my god,” you kept saying, with every new page, and new intricate lists and ideas. “Oh my god.”

“This is incredible,” you breathed, tears falling freely now. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“No no, I should be the one apologizing,” Tammy replied firmly. “I should have told you.”

“But then it wouldn’t have been a surprise! Oh my god, I should have been more trusting in you,” you cried softly. “Tammy, oh, god. Tammy, I love you so much.”

Every detail was spot-on. She knew you inside and out, like no one else ever  knew you. No one had ever cared so deeply for you, to think so deeply for you. 

Now Tammy was crying too, and you were two blubbering messes, clasping hands across the table and spilling tears on the pages. Thankfully, they were laminated.

“I’ve scrapped it all,” Tammy confessed. 

Your head snapped up, “What?”

“Well, when I say scrapped.. I rescheduled it for next year.. I didn’t think that you would want this anymore. Not after what I did.”

“Debbie thought it a good idea to just move it to next year, in case you still wanted it, and.. well, in case you and I are still...” she cleared her throat, face red, not wanting to finish her sentence for fear of jinxing it.

You pushed your chair back and walked over to her, cupping her face and kissing her sweetly. She melted in your touch.

“Of course I’ll still want it,” you said, brushing her mouth with your lips. “I want you.”

“So-, are- are we o-okay?”  Tammy’s breath hitched with increasing sobs and you kissed her, again and again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you laughed, kissing her tears away. “I don’t want anything except you.”

“Good,” Tammy giggled, “because I don’t think I had anymore energy to finish these plans.”

“When did you start making this?”

“About a month ago.”

“Oh, Tammy, my God,” you threw your head back, understanding why she had gotten so distanced now. “You can’t possibly think all of that-” gesturing to the thick book, “would be possible to plan in just a few weeks right? Not with your perfectionist habits, at least.”

“Hey,” Tammy warned, but her eyes were twinkling. 

“Plus, I love every single detail you put in there, I swear, but I don’t need anything except you and the people we love on my birthday. Seriously.”

“Good, because that’s exactly what Lou offered after she slapped some sense into me,” Tammy confessed. “A party at her loft or one of her clubs? And then.. cake?”

“Yes!” you clapped your hands. “Our friends, and cake.”

You slid forward to sit in Tammy’s lap and pressed your warm face in her neck, kissing her there and hugging her closely.

“That’s all I need,” you murmured. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

Tammy let out another sob, wrapping her arms around you tightly and kissing the side of your head, nuzzling your hair without abandon. 

A/N: A bit longer than usual but I wanted to do the lovely request justice :D Miscommunication is such a bitch... especially when it doesn’t work out, but in this fiction land it does!! We love soft!Tammy~

#tammy #tammy oceans 8 #tammy x you #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x you #sarah paulson character #wlw #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #ocean's eight #oceans8 #oceans 8 #oceans 8 fanfic #ocean's 8 #cate blanchett #Sandra bullock #fanfiction #merry writes

[werewolfbansheelove]

Calm Down Vlog Squad angst

Summary: You struggle with anger issues and you have such a hard time keeping your cool, especially when going out. You only start to lose you're cool when somebody threatens or hits one of your friends which is the Vlog Squad. Sometimes they have a hard time keeping you calm down, even when the police get involved. 

Warnings: Anger issues, language and physical/ verbal fights

The vlogs that are going to be in this is Vlog #436 and #478. 

Word Count: 1, 132

When you were in elementary school, you had a short fuse. You had gotten yourself in trouble from teachers and the principal numerous times about getting into fights at school. 

Your parents had tried everything to keep you calm down but sometimes nothing really works until you explode. But things are starting to get a little bit more worse when you got in the high school when you see a friend or family member of yours getting bullied or just getting teased, you had no choice but to get into it especially when it comes around to your friends and family. 

Even in public places, when somebody that you don't like at all is taking a long time  or is just doing just brutal things like picking on other people especially like kids, old people and even adults as well. Even if it'd just a stranger, you don't know you can't help but get involved. 

Up to now, you are 23 year old and you're best friends with the vlog squad, and they all know about your anger problems but sometimes your friends are not really the big strongest people in the group except for like a few people like Todd, Ilya, Alex and few others. 

Your friend, David Dobrik was vlogging a video at a party, you decided to come along to the party. 

But later on, Seth told you that David had got beaten up by a girl. Right now, you were fuming with anger so much. David, Y/N, Seth and a few other friends had left the party. 

"I just got punched in the face. Look at this." David said to his block camera I see flips over his lips since he's looks like he has a bloody gum. 

"David's just happy as fuck. I was like what the fuck is going on, bro." Seth said. 

"To make things worse, Seth decided to tell (Y/n) what happened, which is a bad thing to do, cause she has anger problems." David said, to Seth's face. 

"I'm sorry, but I can't help but tell her cuz she deserves to know." Seth said. 

"David, just over question, what did she look like when she was hitting you?" Y/N asked. 

"No, I'm not telling you." David said with a small laugh. "Brandon starts running away." David adds. 

"Because Brandon's a pussy." You said which caused everyone gasp and laugh and Brandon looked offended. 

Everyone just started making a big deal out that David got punched in the face but BigNik was kind of happy that David got punched in the face by a girl. 

They arrived to the Tesla and you sitting in between two seats. "Okay, guys she's right here." David says to the camera.  

Brandon got scared again like you said before he's a bit of a pussy. You looked out of the car and saw her walking but you saw red. "David, let me out of the car or I'll break the windows." You said. 

Y/N was getting angry. "Y/N, don't even think about it." David yells to you from the driver seat. 

But Seth and few of his friends held you back from getting out of the car. 

Soon, the girl was in the ambulance and then she started to get violent again and you are struggling with Seth's friends strong grips on you. (if that makes sense) 

David luckily drove away and you started to calm down. With your anger problems, one day you will get very violent and you'll regret it. 

                                              ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧    

A few months later, Y/N was out with David again, but this time Scotty, Todd, Ilya, Alex and David were out on the street. You had a crush on Scotty for the past two years and even though he was taken, he is still your friend. 

David had made a deal with Scotty to get his nipples pierced and he did it. But that didn't last long, a dark skinned guy came up and started to threaten Todd to fight him.

Then people had to hold the guy back but also Y/N and Todd had ti get held back as well. "Why is it everytime Ilya around somebody gets beat up?" David asked, that made Ilya and Scott laugh. 

Before the guy ran off, he decided to come back and soccer-punch Scott in the face. Stop watching the vlog now if you love this beautiful face. (This means David's narrating.) But when they was blood kind of out of Scott's nose, Y/N got so angry that she started to beat the guy up. 

The guy came back and punched Scott in the face  which made you looks shocked but when you saw the blood you saw red. 

Y/N ran up to the guy and punched him in the face and pushing down on to the concrete ground and started swinging on his head repeatedly. 

But Y/N got held back by Todd and Alex but was shaking to get out of the grip on her. She was literally shaking in anger, she calmed down with Alex telling her to take a few breaths.  

She calmed down with Alex and Todd holding her then she wrested to cry out of frustration. Todd, Alex, Scott and David hugged her, since Y/N has anger problems when she was a kid. "I'm sorry, David." Y/N said. 

"It's okay, N/N." David said and hugs her back. 

They all got back in the telsa. "What a night." David said, then looks at Alex who was frowning. "Alex, are you OK?" 

"No." 

David begins to chuckle while speaking. "Dude, Alex walked by and pretended to be a cop and went like "10/4 we got him"." That made everyone laugh including Y/N at least she has friends to help her through all of her anger. 

A/N: I'm sorry for the long delay, I've been doing another stories and hope you guys like this. 

#vlog squad imagines #vlog squad x reader #vlog squad angst