#Itching to take a peek at my butt

[vollereix]

This idea has been stuck in my head for daysss anyway genshin men of your choice (bonus points if Tartaglia or Kaeya are included) with an s/o (gender neutral pls) who is alot like Kenny McCormick from South Park. If you don't know the show, he basically wears an oversized hood that covers most of his face except for his eyes and when he talks its mostly muffled but the only person who understands what she's saying are people like traveler and stuff. Anyway, daily reminder to stay hydrated <3

(More bonuses if you add their reaction when they finally see and hear reader without the hood.)

Help, this has been in my drafts for months 😭 I’m so sorry pookie here it is! Also I’m not sure to do hc or scenarios so I just did a little bit of both!

Also idk how to write for Kaeya, I honestly don’t remember his personality at all :(

Characters: Childe, Zhongli, Alhaitham X gender neutral reader

Warnings: Idk y/n without the hood or smth

CHILDE

— oh you just said ‘$;@:@:?#%>\&” ? Yeah no worries, he understood that.

— Childe likes to rest his hand or arm on top of your head, in this case, your hoodie at every chance possible.

— He doesn’t always understand what you’re saying so he sometimes depends on your body language as well.

— The first time he saw you without the hood was when you woke up at 4am to get some water and saw him there too.

Your throat had been itching for a while now, you had wanted to ignore it and go back to sleep but it’s now come to a point that the dryness was making you uncomfortable.

Rubbing your eyes in frustration, you got out of bed, not noticing the absence of your boyfriend next to you. Still partially tired, you ran your hand along the wall to turn the lights on.

Taking a cup, you were oblivious to the statue in the corner with his mouth slightly parted. Clearing his throat, you almost died on the spot of a jump scare.

“Well well, isn’t this a rare sight?” You looked at him in shock, taking your time to register his words.

Upon realising, you reached for the hood. “Oh no, it’s quite alright, I don’t mind seeing you like this ever so often!” With a few quick strides Childe was already standing next to you, stopping you from pulling the hood over your head.

Now it was your turn to clear your throat, “oh right, okay” you mumbled, turning back to your cup of water.

Childe tried his best to not look surprised upon hearing your actual voice and not the muffled responses he was used to.

“Like music to my ears, you should drop the hood more often.” Putting a hand under your chin, he tilted your head up to get a better look at your face.

ZHONGLI

— No, I don’t know why but I just feel like he already knew how you’d look and sound.

— Not that surprised and all, it’s not that big of a deal to him whether you choose to wear the hood or not.

— But!! Compared to when you are wearing the hood, he will definitely steal glances at you more often. Y’know, just a peek here and there.

— He’s fine with it either way, if you feel more comfortable with the hood he’s perfectly fine with that.

The two of you were taking a stroll through wuwang hill, enjoying the peace and quiet after a long week of work. It’s not unusual to come across monsters in Liyue, so when a group of anemo slimes bounced your way you were well prepared to take them out.

Though you were not prepared for the strong gust of wind from the big slime that blew your hood of. On top of that, you also lost your balance for a split second, falling back on your butt.

Zhongli made quick work of the rest, getting rid of them with an easy blow. Walking towards you, he extended a hand and pulled you up.

Still preoccupied with smoothening your clothes and getting rid of the dirt, Zhongli kept his gaze on your face the entire time.

You looked exactly like how he thought you would, maybe even better.

“Thanks, let’s get going now.” You made eye contact with him, a small smile on your face.

“What’s wrong? Why are you staring at me like that?”

Shaking his head, Zhongli acted as if everything was perfectly normal and continued walking in front of you. Well, that was until he heard you gasp.

Pulling the hood back over your head, you tightened it quickly, catching up to him.

“You know, you don’t always have to wear the hood. It must be stuffy and warm.”

Truth was, he just like seeing your face and hearing your voice.

ALHAITHAM

— Once again, kinda monotone and just like “oh so this is you without the hood, I see.”

— That’s it. Literally.

— He doesn’t care enough to say anything else. If you wear your hood, you wear your hood. If you don’t, you don’t.

— No reaction to anything, just ‘ok, cool’ attitude.

You fell asleep on your table while staying up late to work on a project. That’s how Alhaitham even saw you without the hood on.

He had spent the entire morning looking for you. He even went out of his way to ask his roommate about your whereabouts.

When alhaitham finally found you in your office, you were sleeping with stacks of paper surrounding you. A few of them even made its way onto the floor.

But whatever, it didn’t exactly faze him. He just tapped you a few times before you woke up in a panic.

“!! Huh, what?” You asked, confused.

“Nothing, just waking you up. Did you enjoy your nap?” Taking a piece of paper that had been plastered onto your cheek off, you suddenly realised what happened.

“Oh, I must’ve fallen asleep…” You sighed at the realisation.

Thanking alhaitham for waking you up, you quickly picked up the stray papers and arranged them neatly onto different stacks.

You would have expected him to leave by now, I mean he was a busy person after all. But by the time you were done tidying up, alhaitham was still standing at your doorway.

Giving him a questioning look, he simply gestured to your hood before leaving you in another state of panic.

#genshin impact #childe #childe x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #al haitham #al haitam x reader #gender neutral insert #x reader

[trash-monkey]

A Sunrise Is A New

Chapter 4

I watch the calves while leaning over the fence and trying to decide which one I want but the two pair of eyes of the young Omegas drilling holes into my back is distracting me, I ain't even releasing any pheromones!

"I'm sorry about their behavior." Shin apologizes when seeing the two peeking around the house to eye the Alpha.

"It's alright, Hinata informed me that this town doesn't see Alphas much and seeing how a unmated one moves right in suddenly might be quit strange to everyone." He nods with a knowing smile.

"Shin? Can me and Draken go into town?" I hear Mikey calling which I turn my attention to seeing him smiling while Draken is standing by him away from the corner of the house which a very small blush appears on his face when we catch each other's eyes.

"You can but be back an hour before dark!" Shin sighed as the two immediately starting down the road.

"Oh no, the code for gossip." I joked which caused Shin to laugh and agree with it.

"Draken seems different then other Omegas." I stated while returning my eyes back to the calves in the fence.

"Yeah, he's more on the dominant side but he does have a soft side." I give him a smirk as I turn to him.

"I can tell when we meet eyes his cheek turned a little red." Shin used a hand to cover his mouth in a attempt to hold his laughter back before we hear a horse riding up to the house which we turn to see Imaushi coming home.

"Welcome home" I watch from the distance as Shin welcomes his Alpha back home.

"You decide yet?" Imaushi gestures to the claves which I shook my head no.

"I can't so I'll let you pick." He nods before getting into the pen and picking up the brown calf which I pack to my wagon after he hands it over to me.

"I sure do thank you two!" I give the couple a smile in thanks.

"Well, I better get going! I'll see ya at the Sunday gathering tomorrow!" After a see you later I ride back to the house with the calf which I take to the small barn with the other three animals before unhooking the two horses and into the barn also as the sun is setting, after leaving old hay for the animals to eat on which it'll have to do until I can get feed I get ready for bed as I have to get up early for a bath in the morning.

I give a gasp in pleasure as I set my body into the hot water filled tub which smoothed my aching muscles but I put that out of mind as I started washing before heading into town after a small breakfast.

"Ho,ho,ho." I called as I pull the two horses to a stop next to a another wagon as I hear people along with kids talking and laughing beside lake Miyu, I walk around hearing people but mostly Omegas whispering and giggling voices basically checking me out but I pay no mind to it as I'm looking for Hinata. Soon I found her standing in a small group of older Omegas talking while holding Eden in her arms which I can see them adoring her and itching to hold her but she won't let them, I smiled as I walk up to them.

"Hello Hinata." I greet her as I gently take Eden from her arms.

"Hey, little one! You miss me?" Eden giggles and babbles causing the other Omegas watching to aw at the cuteness of the little girl, I can see in many of their eyes that they're getting baby fever.

"I tried to get her to stand on her legs a few times." Hinata spoke as she watches me sit down on my butt on the ground and try to get Eden use to standing on her legs some so it won't be hard for her when she starts walk later on.

"Hello Hinata" A short inky black haired Omega approachs our small group but what caught my eye right away is his bright sea blue eyes, so naive and loving but I immediately look back to Eden before I could fall even more into the Omegas eyes.

"Oh, hello Takemitchy!" Hinata immediately hugs him when seeing him as other young Omegas follow behind him, I see both Draken and Mikey but the others with them I haven't seen before. One has long bleach blonde hair with teal colored eyes as two diamond scars on the corners of his mouth, two are brothers as the one with long braids is a year or two older then his short blond brother that had glasses sitting on his nose and both share lilac colored lazy eyes, another pair are brothers but I can see that they're twins although their hair are different colors like cotton candy I had once at a festival, one has short lavender hair as his roots are a darker color since the top of his head is slightly longer enough to be a lighter shade plus it matches his eyes, and the last Omega has the shortest hair in the group as it's a royal blue color like his eyes with a swirl pattern on one side of his head.

"Mikey!" Draken panicked when Mikey suddenly jumps onto my back as he worries about the sudden impact harming the little one in my hold so he immediately take the blonde Omega off me.

"Mikey, carefully of the little one! I'm so sorry, Alpha! Is the little one ok?"

"It's ok, Eden is fine." I quickly responded to ease the Omega's instincts while showing him the happy little pup is actually ok.

"Alpha, I'm sorry." Mikey shows the back of his neck in submission after realizing his childish behavior almost hurt a pup.

"You're forgiven but don't do it again when I holding her, ok?" I said as I hand Eden back over to Hinata after standing up and lift Mikey's head back up which he nods as he understands what I'm saying.

"My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N) if some of y'all didn't already know." I introduce myself to the group of young Omegas which in return one by one they introduced themselves.

"Sanzu" he's the one with long bleach blonde and two scars.

"Ran and this is my brother Rindou" Ran is the one with the two braids and his brother has the short blond hair with glasses.

"Smiley and Angry." The enteral smiling orange haired twin spoke for the both of them.

"Mitsuya Takashi" The lavender one introduce himself right as a little girl come running up to him which he picked her up and settled her on his hip, the way he handle her and the similarities they share I can see they're siblings.

"Hakkai" The last Omega is quite despite his great height but he still isn't as tall as Draken and I can he mostly sticks to Mitsuya side by the way he stands next to him, once they see me and that each of them have my attention they unconsciously let some of their Omega hormones out.

"I have to step aside, please excuse me." I excuse myself in respect of the young Omega group when their different scents overwhelm me, I see the confusion on their faces in the corner of my eyes when I walked away which turns to shock and embarrassment when Hinata tells them why I had to step away.

"Well, hello there." A Alpha that's even taller then Draken when he suddenly appears next to me, he has short hair with yellow stripes that he keeps slick back as a piece of hair flows down his temple on one side of his face while circular glasses sits on his nose and his golden eyes pierce into me with mischief.

_______________________________________________

#fanfic #male y/n #male reader #anime #tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyrev #tokyo revengers au #alpha beta omega #omegaverse

[daily-escuella]

God You're Disgusting - Micah Bell - NSFW Short

Micah x f!Reader

In honor of @kitty-the-outlaw's Micah Fucks Monday I have something VERY different for you o.o

I've never written smut before so I chose a character/scenario that was not very tender so I wouldn't get too shy writing it but I'm so extremely nervous to post it haha Inspired by Micah when he says "I'm always likely to despise them more afterwards."

((Thank you @ttuesday for your help proof reading this! <3))

Word count: 1970

Second warning this is !!!NSFW!!! please only read if you're comfortable with that and 18+

Kinks/warnings: Degradation, disrespect, little bit of dom/sub, orgasm denial, dirty talk/name calling

You stood in the dark at the usual place, resting casually against a large tree. Nothing but the half moon and the cherry of your cigarette to light the night air in front of you. Your heart skipped when you heard approaching footsteps and the rustling of a large leafed plant being pushed aside, but you kept your face neutral, gaze distant.

A low chuckle sounded to your right as the man you’d been waiting for arrived at your meeting place.

“I knew I’d find you here again,” he groaned softly, a slight mocking tone to his voice. You hadn’t missed a meeting since the first time you’d made this mistake with him. You couldn’t help but scrunch your nose at his comment.

“Shut up.”

“Gladly.” He replied as he snatched the cigarette from your hand and took a long drag on it. You glared at him, looking over at the man for the first time. He hadn’t even washed his hair, it looked stringy from grease and sweat, even in the night. You let out a sound of disgust as he blew the smoke out towards you, flicking the mostly finished butt to the ground.

You both hated each other. You hated each other just a little more after your secret meetings in the woods. He was a disrespectful, slimy rat.

He knew it too.

But you were the woman who kept coming back for more.

Micah closed the gap between you, roughly taking your waist and pulling you against him. Even through the material of your skirt you could feel he was hard. You felt a throb in your center as you couldn’t help but grind against him slightly. He leaned in to smell your hair, sighing in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Kiss me.” You demanded. He obliged willingly, holding you firmly around the waist with one arm, taking your face in his free hand and meeting your lips. His mustache itched your face, you never liked the feeling. He pushed the kiss deeper, the taste of the cigarette not masking his usual flavour. You groaned against him as he swiped his tongue hungrily over yours. “God, you’re disgusting,” you breathed when he finally pulled himself away. He laughed in response before moving to kiss your neck. That damn mustache. You pulled his head roughly against you and he found a spot to bite down on. You couldn’t help but gasp.

“You’re so dirty…” he groaned as he cupped your ass, pushing your shoulders back against the tree you’d previously leaned on. “My dirty whore,” he groaned between rough kisses down to the nape of your neck.

“Fuck you,” you replied, the sneer audible in your voice despite your breath getting heavier at his touch.

“Mmm hmm hmm,” he chuckled against your skin, “maybe you’re right, you’re not a whore,” he planted more kisses along your neck until he was standing upright again to look in your eyes, “you won’t let me pay you.”

You slapped him.

His eyes were wide as he registered what you’d done before a lusty smile took over his face. “Bad girl,” he chastised before grabbing your throat, pushing you back and kissing you deeply once more. You couldn’t have fought him off if you wanted to, he was surprisingly strong. Instead you grabbed the back of his head again and pulled him in hard kissing him back just as deeply, drool escaping the corner of where your mouths connected. You bit his lower lip as he tried to pull away and he growled in reply, moving down to your neck again to plant more rough kisses and bites. Keeping one hand on your ass, he reached up to cup a breast, groaning at its softness in his hand. You knew he hardly deserved to enjoy your body like this, but feeling degraded by him ignited a feeling in you like nothing else had.

“Fuck me already you snake,” You hissed as he left another mark on your collarbone.

“With pleasure,” he laughed, turning you around and pressing your chest against the tree. He unceremoniously flipped your skirt up and you moaned in twisted lust at his disrespect. Normally he’d enter you immediately, but this time he took a moment to admire your body in the moonlight. He let out a soft groan as he peeled back your undergarments, exposing your sweet sex to the night air. For the first time ever he lowered to his knees and swiped his tongue along the slit. You gasped at the unfamiliar sensation.

“What the hell are you doing back there?” You questioned apprehensively, though you tried to sound pissed off.

“Ain’t I allowed to admire how wet I make you?” he replied lewdly, taking another pass with his tongue at you. You shivered at the feeling, all at once turned on more and disgusted with yourself for loving it. He paused his work briefly as you heard the sound of his trousers opening. You expected him to stand and enter you finally but instead he pressed his mouth back to your center, kissing it hungrily as you heard what sounded like him touching himself. A wave of pleasure coursed through you at the sounds of him moaning against you, enjoying your body for the first time as more than just a hole to dump his seed.

Your body tensed as the pressure of your high built, your breath quickened and your hips pushed back against him involuntarily as he worked relentlessly with his mouth. Suddenly as your pleasure nearly peeked he pulled away from you. The cold air hit immediately and you moaned remorsefully at the absence of his touch. “No…” you groaned helplessly.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked mockingly, swiping a finger along your slit, chuckling at your hips bucking reflexively.

“I could ask you the s-” you gasped at his touch again before continuing, “-same. Take me already you bastard.”

Instead of doing what you’d asked, he slipped two of his fingers inside you and pressed his mouth to your clit, licking and sucking it mercilessly. You stopped yourself from crying out by chomping down on the back of your hand though that did nothing to stop the torrent of needy moans he drew from you. It took only moments for your high to build back up, your hips bucked against his hand as the pressure grew again. You could feel yourself involuntarily gripping his fingers with your internal muscles when he withdrew them, once more pulling away from you with a dark chuckle at your cry of distress.

“What the fuck?” you cried incredulously. He laughed in reply which made your chest burn with anger. “Why won’t you just fuck me already? I have things to do!” You lied, frustrated, but he knew there was nothing left at camp to finish.

“I love watchin’ you squirm for me,” He breathed, swiping his fingers along your wet slit before pressing them into you once again, chuckling triumphantly when you groaned needily.

He’d found a new way to torment you and he was loving it. You knew you could walk away, finish yourself off alone, end the suffering you felt deep in your core, but you craved him. You knew it wouldn’t be the same without him buried to the hilt inside you. Finally you were reduced to degrading yourself further by begging for him. “Please Micah…” you gasped softly as he stroked that perfect place inside you, pulling another involuntary sound out of you. You could hear the smile on his face as he groaned hornily in reply.

“What did you say?” He asked innocently, suddenly stroking that sensitive place harder in a circular motion.

Your eyes flew open at the intense pressure from his fingers, your mouth hung open uselessly, breath caught in your throat as you endured the pleasure. When he finally relented you felt yourself throbbing around his fingers, you ached for more. Needing a second to catch your breath, you whispered, “Please Micah, please fuck me.”

He sighed in a satisfied way as he withdrew his fingers and stood. He put his hand, shiny with your wetness, in front of your face. “Be a doll and clean me off.” He demanded, looking down at you with a devilish glint in his eye. You hesitated for a second, looking between him and his hand before obeying, taking his fingers into your mouth. You were slightly relieved it tasted good, though he didn’t deserve it. Chuckling darkly as you complied with his lewd request, he pressed the tip of his cock gently against your opening. You couldn’t help but be immensely turned on by it all. He was such a filthy, horrible man. He groaned as he took his hand back and rested it on the side of your ass, admiring the view. Even in the dim light of the moon he could see it all clearly. He rocked the tip slowly against your opening, pulling just far enough away when you tried to push back on him.

“Ah ah ah,” he chastised. “Now, what were you sayin’ earlier?”

You scoffed. Gritting your teeth, you mumbled, “Please.”

He withdrew his cock entirely from you, the absence of its warmth leaving you feeling gutted. “Nicer than that.”

You whimpered before relenting softer, “Please, Micah... please…”

“Good girl,” he cooed before thrusting himself to the hilt inside you. You cried out as he groaned deeply. He stayed mostly still, only gently grinding himself deeper as he mercifully gave you a chance to adjust. As slicked as you were, he was thick. Though you’d never admit it to him, the way he stretched you out felt very good. After a pause he began to move, pulling almost entirely out and slamming back in a few times before finding a generous pace that worked well for both of you. You felt yourself throb around him as you listened to his involuntary moans. He was loving the way you squeezed his every inch. “Reach your hand back and pleasure yourself.” He demanded through groans. You obliged, moving the fabric of your skirt aside and rubbing your sensitive nub as he continued to thrust relentlessly. The angle you were at from reaching back made it so he was striking the perfect place inside of you.

It didn’t take more than a minute to feel yourself getting desperately close to your high again. As the pressure built to the brink of no return he finally let it come over you, pressing his hips firmly against yours, achieving his own release simultaneously. He gasped and panted as you felt him throbbing inside you, unloading everything he had as deeply as he could. Your muscles tensed as you choked out a sob of pleasure, gripping tightly around him, milking him for all he was worth.

As you both came down from your highs he slumped his body over yours briefly, reaching a tired hand up to your arm to caress you gently. You let it happen for a minute before saying with false impatience, “alright get off of me already.”

He chuckled softly as he regained his posture, pushing into you once more with his slowly softening member, drawing a final gasp from your lips before pulling away, leaving you a dripping mess as his fluid leaked lazily out. You’d clean yourself up later, for now you just pulled your bloomers up and fixed your skirt back in place as Micah tucked himself away again and fastened his trousers.

You pulled out a new cigarette and lit it to get the taste of him out of your mouth. He sniffed satisfied and looked back saying with a laugh, “Same time next week?”

“Fuck you.” you replied, flicking the burnt match to the ground with a smirk.

#Micah Bell #Micah Bell x reader #rdr2 smut #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #daily escuella

[1987vampire]

A Good Something? | Judd Birch

Fandom: Big Mouth Word Count: 1.9k Warnings: a hurt racoon, the f slur, just a lot of cussing.  Request: None! A/N: This isn’t established Judd x reader, this is meeting him for the first time so if I write more fics for him, I have something I can refer y’all back to :) If y’all want to see more Judd, an ACTUAL judd x reader, I can give y’all that ALSO the reader has dyed hair in this - not blue - it’s not super important but there’s a line in here that references it.  Extra: 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” your words were stressed as you slammed on the breaks. The rain made it hard to see; it wasn’t your fault that the animal had run into the middle of the road. You weren’t even going that fast, they should have been able to hear you.

You flung your door open harsher than you meant to, but you had to move quickly in case someone came speeding down the road, and you ended up bleeding out right next to whatever you had hit. The road was slick underneath your feet. You almost slipped and fell as you skidded to a stop in front of them. It was a racoon, a fat one at that, and it was staring up at you with big doe eyes. His leg was twisted, and he was letting out small grunts of pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry, little buddy,” You cried. “Can I pick you up? I’ll find somewhere to take care of you, I promise.” You hadn’t really expected an answer- it was an animal after all – but he nodded up at you, reaching his little paws out in hopes that you would help. You paused for a moment, taking in the situation and trying to figure out how to pick him up without hurting him.

You reached an arm under his butt and the other under his neck so you wouldn’t jostle his leg too much. He made little chirping sounds as you steadily walked over to your car, using your head as a shield so he wouldn’t get rain in his eyes. You let out a quiet stream of ‘I’m sorry’s as you did so. You made it into your car just in time to close the door as someone sped down, narrowly missing you as they went.

The little racoon shivered in the passenger seat, but you covered him in blankets and spare clothes you kept in the back, turning the heat in your car on high, trying to dry him and heat him up at the same time. He stared up at you thankfully as you put the car in gear, driving home even slower than before, never going over twenty-five-miles-an-hour.

Once you had reached your apartment, you had to sneak him in in hopes that your shitty landlord wouldn’t notice. He had a strict no animals policy, but this was a bit more important. Fortunately, you could sneak past his office by telling the raccoon to be quiet, since he seemed to be good at listening to directions somehow, and hiding him underneath the pile of clothes, passing him off as laundry.

Finally, inside the comforts of your apartment, you laid him down on the couch and set to researching what to do. After a few calls to a few vet offices and a lot of google searches, you were able to give him a makeshift cast and lay him in a way that would be best for his recovery. He was still talking in his little racoon language as you went. It really looked like he was trying to tell you something, but unfortunately, you were human and could not understand him.

That was until he held your hand in his little paws and pulled them to his neck. How had you not noticed the skinny collar he was wearing? His thick fur had almost completely covered it. Really, it wasn’t even a collar but a thick piece of cord with a circle nameplate in the middle.

You fiddled with it, reading the information attached. ‘Contact Judd. 555-4200’ was engraved onto it in someone’s personal handwriting instead of with a machine. “You know it’s illegal for someone to own a racoon around here, right,” you told him. The racoon made a noise of disapproval and fiddled with the collar again. “Do you want me to take it off?” He hissed in displeasure, making you stop abruptly. “Call him?” He nodded enthusiastically. “You’re a strange little guy, you know that, right?”

You pulled out your phone and dialed the number, tapping your foot against the floor anxiously. It took a few rings, and you were sure he wouldn’t pick up, when a deep voice answered the phone.

“Do you know what fucking time it is, right now?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you turned towards the first clock you could find—three o’clock in the morning. “I- I’m sorry. I can call back in the morning if you want. I just have this racoon with me, and his ankle is twisted because I accidentally hit him, and he had your number on his neck, and I- I-“

“Racoon?” His voice cut you off, and you could tell that he was waking up at the information. “You hit one of my fucking racoons?”

“He ran out into the middle of the road when I was driving. It was raining, so I could barely see, and I couldn’t swerve to miss him because there was a car on one side of the road and trees on the other. I wrapped his leg, and he’s resting, but he wanted me to call you, so here we are.”

He let out a few grumbles, and my fingers instinctively rose to my face so I could bite at my nails. “Fucking hell. Why was he in the middle of the road?” It was a rhetorical question, but you had almost wanted to respond even though you didn’t have an answer. “Does he have any distinctive marks on him? A missing toe, clipped ear, maybe he has uneven stripes.” Your eyes fell on the racoon again. He looked pretty normal besides the leg.

Almost like he knew what you were talking about, the racoon pulled one of his hands up to his forehead. After you pushed some of his fur to the side, you knew what he was pointing at. “He’s showing me that he has a scar on his forehead - like he split his forehead or something.”

“Of course it’s fucking Gerard – the fat fuck.”

You frowned at the statement. “He’s not that fat.”

“I mean the sentence in the most loving hatred filled way I can mean it. He knows I don’t mean it. Can you give the phone to him?”

This was the weirdest fucking situation you had ever been in. “Oh yeah, I guess.” you placed the phone in the racoon’s hand, and he made a chirp as a hello. You could hear Judd’s voice lowly in the speaker as he talked to him, the racoon making noises of acknowledgement as he went. You could make out very little besides him asking if you were taking care of him and then berating him for being stupid. The racoon – well, Gerard – kept trying to talk to him, but Judd refused to let up, barely giving him a moment to speak even if he did understand him.

After a few minutes, Gerard pushed the phone towards me, and I took it back. “So, what do you want me to do with him. Like, I can take him to yours, since I guess he belongs to you, or-“

“Fuck off. What are you – the feds? Give me your address, I’m not letting you see my shit.”

“Well, usually people ask me on a date before seeing my place, but-“ the words had slipped from my mouth before I thought about what I was saying, and my eyes immediately widened with embarrassment. “Oh my god- I’m sorry-“

He laughed loudly and pulled the phone away from his ear. “Well, we can think about that after I get the fat fucking faggot in your house.”

Your arms crossed. “You better part of that community if you’re using their slurs, fuckface.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mused. “Give me your address. I’m getting in my car.”

After giving him the information, you hung up, itching at your arm as you stared at Gerard. “He isn’t very nice, huh,” you told him. He chirped and shook his head as if defending him. “Is he really mean or is it a front?” He chirped at the second part, and I smiled. “Well, he’ll be here soon.”

And soon it was. It only took him about ten minutes before you heard a loud knocking on your door, banging more like. You jumped from sitting beside Gerard to the door, peeking out into the dark hallway, the latch still connected. “Judd?”

On the other side of the door was a decently tall man with black and blue hair, his sides shaved til it was only stubble. He was clad in a gray hoodie and black jeans, gray converse on his feet. His face was set in a glare as he stared at you. “Who the fuck else would it be?”

You shut the door and unlatched it, opening it wider so he could come in. “You knock like my landlord.”

“Landlord?” He pushed into your apartment, his sights set on the racoon lounging on your cheap couch. “You don’t look old enough to have a landlord.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m nineteen. This is my apartment.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder. “And you let some strange man in? Pretty stupid if you ask me.”

You frowned and pursed your lips. “I can kick you out- keep your racoon if you don’t start acting nice.”

“You could definitely try.” He picked up Gerard’s leg, inspecting it. “You did a good job with this. Almost as good as my work.”

“He was a good patient.”

Judd scoffed, sticking his hands underneath Gerard to pick him up just as you had earlier that night. “He was probably just basking in a pretty girl’s attention.”

Pretty? A smile was climbing onto your face. He was pretty, too, if he didn’t have such a sour attitude.

His eyes fell onto yours as he turned. “I like your hair by the way. The color suits you.” You ran your hand through your dyed hair, suddenly very conscious of how you looked. “You should try blue next time.” Gerard made a loud noise in his arms and reached out to you. Judd frowned down at him. “You had your fun, dumbass, but you’ve got to go home now. I’m sure the others are worried about you.”

“Others?”

Judd looked back at you. “Yeah, I was – uh – training a battalion of racoons to kill my younger brother.” He groaned quietly. “Now they’re good for catering and attacking intruders, but they refused to hurt him. Got a few scars because of it.”

You chuckled quietly and shook your head. “You sure are something, alright.”

His lips upturned the slightest bit into a tiny smile. “Is that a good something?”

“Sure, we can say that.”

You opened the door for him as he started taking strides towards it. He paused right past the entryway, something sitting on his tongue. “Try not to hit any more racoons, alright?”

Your fingers drummed along the door, and you laughed. “I’ll be sure to call you if I do. Just in case.”

He was already walking away when he responded. “You have my number.”

You hesitated on shutting the door right away, choosing to listen to him begin to berate the racoon as he walked down the hall, something along the lines of, ‘you make me come out in the middle of the night, scared shitless. You could have died, you fucking cunt.” He continued as he disappeared out of sight, but you didn’t even have the heart to ask him to cover the racoon as he left, preferring to just deal with your landlords berating the next day.

#judd birch #judd birch x reader #judd big mouth #judd big mouth x reader #big mouth #big mouth x reader

[h2bakugou]

Hello! Could I please get a soft shiggy x fem!reader? Basically the reader is like god dammit why aren’t u taking care of urself? And basically gives him a lil homemade spa day! I think it’d be really cute! It can be fluff or smut, whatever you prefer!

a/n: hii!! of course!! i kept this kinda fluffy, posting a day later but happy birthday shiggy baby

summary: the constant state that shigaraki stays in while running the league is certainly an interesting one, but you can’t bear watching him not take care of himself. so you arrange a day to do just that

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, mentions of not eating, mentions of anxiety, a few mentions of nudity but nothing sexual

word count: 2.2k (okay pop awf-)

;cut for length;

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The prominent dark circles under Shigaraki’s eyes were a clear indication that he had been up all night again. Even while he sat in the bed beside you, playing a game on some handheld console, you could tell he hadn’t been to sleep at all in the past twenty-four hours.

Trying to ignore the soft sounds coming from his game, you cuddled up to him anyway, slinging an arm under on of his, resting your hand back up on his shoulder, your grasp resembling that of a backpack strap.

“What are you playing?” You mumbled quietly, your eyes just barely peeking over his arm, the screen illuminated a little too brightly for your comfort.

“Some weird RPG I downloaded from a forum. It’s stupid.” Shigaraki quickly turned the game console off and set it on the night stand, turning over to look at you.

“You look tired, did you not sleep good last night?” You ask, reaching a delicate hand up to caress his cheek, thumb carefully grazing over the top his cheek. You pull him in for a delicate kiss, just barely touching his lips.

You were still half-asleep, but you could tell Shigaraki wasn’t taking care of himself again. He had these spells, usually around the time when the League wasn’t doing much, plotting or just moving around, he wouldn’t sleep, he’d barely eat-his excuse would be he forgot, but you knew he was anxious.

Anxious for what was to come. He was a good leader, and he was strong, probably stronger than you were, but that didn’t matter. You were worried about him.

You couldn’t stand seeing those dark circles under his eyes, of hearing his tummy rumble when you lay next to him. It seemed the scratching on his neck would worsen as well, raw skin peeking through under the already cracked and dry skin he itched at for what felt like hours.

“Didn’t sleep.” He replied quietly. He knew you were about to scold him. He could read it all over your face as you pouted, pulling him into you.

“You could’ve woke me up, and we could’ve done something to help you fall asleep.” You sit up, ushering him to lay in your lap. As he does so, you take one look at his hair and inwardly cringe.

It’s a knotted mess, and no matter how much you wanted to run your fingers through it, you probably wouldn’t even get halfway before having to brush your fingers out of there with a hair brush. Or worse, cut them out.

“Didn’t wanna bug you.” Shigaraki seemed cold. His responses were dry. You heaved a sigh and pushed him up by his shoulders. Slinking out of the bed, you walked around to his side and tugged him out, pulling him over to the bathroom by his arms.

“How many times have I told you I don’t mind.” You sigh as you set him down on he toilet lid, watching as he just nods, hanging his head as you turn on the water for the bath.

Allowing it to warm up, you turn back to him and tug at his shirt.

“Arms up.” You speak softly, proceeding to take his shirt off as he lifts his arms up.

“When did you get this!?” You’re visibly and audibly worried as you spot a rather large bruise on his side. It looked like it hurt.

“Last fight.” Shigaraki sighed and glanced up at you.

“What are you doing?” His lips were fitted in a thin line, his eyelids were barely open, probably to heavy to even try.

“I’m going to help you relax. Look, your shoulders are so tense you can’t even relax them!” You went to touch his shoulders and just as you had stated, the muscles felt locked and telling by the hissing from Shigaraki, they were painful to move and touch.

“Alright alright! Just, am I taking a bath?” He questioned. You nodded and stepped aside, allowing him to undress the rest of the way before getting into the tub, his lips parting as he sat down, the warm water already making him feel slightly better.

Taking a cup you’d left in the bathroom from dumping out some soda, you rinsed it quickly under the sink, making sure it wasn’t sticky, and then brought it over to the tub where you scooped up some water and poured it over Shigaraki’s hair.

Once it was wet enough to lather some shampoo in, you allowed him to lean back as you worked your fingers through his locks. Unknotting his hair and washing it was a bit difficult, but taking your time, you made sure every strand of his hair was clean.

Your fingers worked their way back up to his scalp where you massaged for quite a few minutes, both to try and remove any built up dirt and dandruff and to give him a bit of a massage.

Shigaraki was almost purring in satisfaction as you finally dragged your hands away, reaching for the cup to rinse his hair. It didn’t take you long to rinse out all the suds before getting started on the conditioner.

“Thank you.” Shigaraki mumbled, holding his knees to his chest, his head dipped back so you could wash his hair easier.

“Of course. I know you haven’t been taking care of yourself again, I know you don’t mean too, but I can’t help but notice.” You sigh, running the pleasant-smelling conditioner through his white locks.

“You have these weird spells. I understand though, how you feel. It’s not easy being the leader, I can’t imagine the stress you feel, but you’ve got to take care of yourself. It’s important. You gotta be strong for the league, and for yourself.” You know Shigaraki, a little more than everyone else in the league does.

You’re dating him for peat’s sake. But Shigaraki became standoffish, grumpy, and even distant during these spells. There was nothing to do. Besides maybe make up a plan for a little something just to do something.

He was anxious about the little things. About how the league looked to the public. About how long they had stayed in one location. About how long it had been since their last big attack.

He needed to get back to league business, but there needed to be time, a good plan, an opening, the forces to attack, all of it needed to be planned with pinpoint accuracy, and those things took time.

“I love you, a whole bunch.” You lean over and kiss his cheek, smiling as his cheeks burn red.

You lather up a loofa with some nice scented soap and begin to wash his back and shoulders, down his arms and a little on his neck.

You’re extra careful around his neck and try not to get any of the scented soap on his raw skin. You know it hurts, and it’ll sting when water washes over it, but you’ll have to take extra good care of that spot later.

When you’re finished washing him, you drain the water and let him stand up, switching the bath to a shower and you begin to rinse him off.

It feels so domestic, these few minutes. The way you laugh and giggle when you tell him to lift his arms and spin and then call yourself some sort of car wash as you spray the warm water over him.

“You’re making a mess.” Shigaraki states at the various puddles of water on the bathroom floor. You sigh and finally help him rinse his conditioned hair out, asking him to hold the shower head for you while you run your fingers through his hair and ring out all the suds.

After the shower, you let him stand and air dry why you go and retrieve a towel. Upon walking in, he’s turned away from you, so you decide to pinch his butt, playfully of course.

Shigaraki just turns and glares at you, taking the towel from you as you giggle.

“I touched the butt.” You laugh as you leave the bathroom, letting him dry off. While he does so, you search around for a pair of boxers to hand him as well as a comfy t-shirt to put on after you give him a nice back massage.

Handing him his underwear, you look away and decide to make the bed quickly while he gets partially dressed.

“Where’s my shirt?” He questions. You turn and for a few seconds, you’re flustered. There’s Shigaraki, hair dripping wet and running down his toned chest, right down to the waist band of his black boxers. The towel you’d given him is lazily tossed over one shoulder, and he looks like some sort of actor out of a terrible romance movie.

Too entranced by his looks, you quickly shake your head, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You pat the freshly made bed.

“Back massage.” You blurt out kneeling on the bed, waiting for him to lay down.

“Flustered?” Shigaraki stands beside the bed, a finger under your chin as you look up at him. You lean up and kiss his lips, smiling as you pull away.

“Well when you look that good can you blame me?” You tease, waiting as he lays down on the bed like you had motioned for.

“I guess not.” He replies.

Laying his head over his folded arms, his chest is against the bed. You move to sit over his butt as you look at his back. Still a little damp from the shower, you take the towel that had been tossed on the bed and dry it off, running it through his wet locks a bit.

Tossing it down onto the floor, too unbothered about it leaving a wet-mark on the carpet, You squirt some lotion into your hand and delicately begin to rub it into his back, carefully drawing your fingers across his skin, massaging it up over his shoulders.

Your fingers work magic as you relieve his tension, working at his shoulders carefully and strategically, undoing any knots that had formed.

Shigaraki’s eyes are closed, and small hums of satisfaction spill from his mouth as you do so.

You spend minutes massaging his back, quietly and gently working lotion into his skin. And when you’re finished, you ask him to sit up and face you. He puts on a shirt and you ask for his hands.

He’s skeptical but allows you to see one. You carefully apply some lotion to your hand and begin to massage it in, working down each one of his fingers before gently massaging his palm.

He stares at you in admiration as you seem un-phased by his hands, or the fact that he could kill you with them if you messed up. You don’t even look anxious, or worried about them.

And when you switch to his other hand, you continue, even when his fingers twitch. You just smile and kiss the back of his hand when you’re done, complementing the way he looks.

Interlocking your hands with his, Shigaraki’s eyes go wide.

“Careful!” He speaks up, falling into you as you tug him back.

He’s laying on top of you as you lay under him, smiling up at him.

“I can handle myself, don’t worry. Now come here.” You wrap your arms and legs around him, clinging to him like a sloth. You can’t help but giggle as he turns over, allowing you to be on top of him.

“You’re so stupid.” Shigaraki sighs, closing his eyes. You brush your nose against his, kissing the tip of his nose before burying your head into the crook of his neck.

“But you love me. And I love you too.” You kiss his neck gently, closing your eyes as you rest against him.

“I do love you.” Shigaraki’s arms are wrapped over your back, holding you down on top of him. He smiles and finally feels how tired he was.

“I’m gonna go make breakfast soon, so take a little nap okay?” You sit up and kiss his forehead.

“I can’t fall asleep without you.” Shigaraki mumbles, holding you tighter.

“This is a bad idea. I’m gonna fall back asleep too.” You mumble reaching for a blanket. Shigaraki helps cover the both of you.

“Guess we’re napping then.” Shigaraki kisses your cheek, nuzzling his head against yours.

“Guess so.” Your words are quiet as you slip back to sleep, peacefully dozing off as Shigaraki does the same.

It’s a bit of a long nap, a couple hours pass. And when you wake up, you make some food for the both of you, eating a big meal while watching a show on Netflix. The day is all about Shigaraki and so cuddles are a must when you’re finished eating.

You switch from basic cuddling to sitting in his lap, to even under his baggy t-shirt, your head poking through the head-hole, your back against his chest.

It’s a long day, but it’s spent with Shigaraki, taking care of him and showing him how much you truly adore him. And he loves it.

And at the end of the night, when you go to bed for real after gaming for an unreal amount of time, he holds you close and kisses the top of your head. You’re tuckered out completely sound asleep as he begins to doze off himself.

He loves you. He really does.

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masterlist

#shigaraki #tomura #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomue #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #tenko shimura x reader #tenko #shimura

[stevenbasic]

8:10, there she is, good fucking god, I thought to myself, peering surreptitiously under the cheap window blind of my second-floor apartment, out into the parking lot. Already several strides from her white beemer, Melissa’s outrageous, hourglass figure grabbed my eye, my attention, my whole fucking beng. Tuesday morning, and I hadn’t actually seen her since Friday; I’d cloistered myself away in my office all day yesterday, refused to see anyone. So, now, watching her utterly magnificent hips in her tight black pants, her long legs strut her towards the building, her huge chest wobbling in a too-small, skin-tight turtleneck top...it was like filling a deep need of mine. What’s wrong with me?!? I fretted, as unconsciously my hand began stroking the huge erection already growing down my thigh...

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He’s watching me he’s watching me I can feel it don’t look don’t look up at his window

<clack-clack-clack-clack>, the sound of Melissa’s new, size-12 red heels on the pavement, carrying her past other parked cars in the lot of Far Horizon Medical Associates. It was early - 8:10! I’m late! - but her mind was already on the big task at hand today: him. She hadn’t seen him since last week, he hadn’t taken as much as a single step out of his office yesterday, and his absence had confused her, bothered her, made her actually upset. Despite being so busy with all the excitement of yesterday, all the new girls, the new construction, an emptiness nagged at her, and there was an itch inside her skin that needed scratching. But now that feeling of his eyes, the thought, the mental image of him spying down at her from his little room upstairs, trying to catch a peek of her as she walked into work, animated her. She had grown used to the gazes of men, had learned to tolerate them and be patient with them. She’d grown accustomed to being the object of their attention, a magnet for it since middle school, but with him, these days, it was different.

She wanted him, she wanted his eyes on her. She craved his attention. And even beyond that, she ached for more from him….more than just him ogling her from a faraway window. She needed more than to be able to have him sit alone all day in his little office, doing whatever it is he does in there, when she’s outside, right there. She needed him to need her. Yes, he was married, technically, still, but she was impatient, now. She wanted him to realize it was over, that his life was changing. She needed him to realize what his next step should be...how much he needed her…

She needed to get him to sign those papers.

She put an extra sway in her hips.

Someone else is watching me too…

<clack-clack-clack-clack>

...there’s someone in that truck.

<clack-clack-clack-clack>

She smiled crookedly at the naughtiness of the plan that just materialized in her head.

Okay...okay...yes...let’s see how he likes this...

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Oooo, okay, yes, there she is… AJ thought, sitting low in his truck, surveying the lot, waiting for her white beemer to pull in. 8:10 in the morning and he was technically late to work; he should have been on the job ten minutes ago. But he’d been here all night, and damned if he wasn’t at least going to get a look at her, this boss-girl Melissa. He at least needed that, to cheer him. Angie had broken up with him, for real, yesterday, and he now had nowhere else to go. He was, now - ffff, shit - basically homeless.

Holy fucking shit, he thought to himself, as her tall, TALL body stretched up and up and up out of her 3-series. Jesus christ, he marveled, as his hand went between his legs, no woman should be allowed to be built like that.

She was walking across the lot, towards the building and closer towards him. She was going to pass right in front of his truck, right by him. He watched her, wide-eyed, and grasped himself through his utility pants. Though his windows were up he swore he could hear the <clack-clack-clack-clack> of her heels as she came nearer, now within twenty feet or so, now just right in front of his truck. He could actually feel them, through his truck, shaking the pavement. God she moves the earth, this girl, he goggled, agape at her huge ass as she passed, and right as - ohmigod! - she turned and looked right at him, over her right shoulder...

...and smiled at him.

Oh shit, he panicked, swiftly taking his hand out from between his legs, sitting up straight, and trying to smile back through the windshield at her. He was sure, dead sure, that she’d caught him gaping. That smile told him everything.

Oh god, no...no no no...he lamented, she’s turning around. She was turning around, bending over to look through his windshield, and - with a smile of recognition - waving at him.

Flushing red, AJ did everything he could as a man who’d just slept the night in his truck to look put together, calm and collected. She was coming back, around to his side of the car, and he began to roll down his window. He couldn’t help but goggle at her tits, right at eye level.

“Hiiii..!” she sang as she leaned in towards him, forearms resting possessively on the lower edge of the window frame. Her big hands were inside the space of the truck and, not even realizing it, AJ had backed away a bit from this larger person. “You’re Aaron, right? Angie’s, uh…”

She’s fucking gorgeous, AJ couldn’t help but think, momentarily dumbfounded by the twinkle of her eyes, the brightness of her dimpled smile. He knew he was staring, and- had she asked him something?

“Oh, uh - heh heh, yeah, sorry - boyfriend?” he finally managed, recovering his tongue. C’mon, Shaw, he thought, working to rally himself in the face of a beautiful girl, an opportunity to make something happen, you can do this, turn it on. “Well, ex-boyfriend…”

To that, Melissa smiled, and AJ’s heart skipped a beat. The body language this chick was giving him was all-signals-go. Leaned in as she was, she filled the space between him and the outside. Her body moved languorously, slightly rocking at the hips; anyone watching from the building would be getting quite a show as she swayed that ass slowly to and fro...

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What is she doing?? he fretted, what the hell is she doing??

He’d watched her, covertly gawking from his little upper-level window, and had immediately started to worry when she’d stopped in her tracks, turned to talk to some guy in a pickup. A guy! One of the construction guys, he grumbled, knowing the jealousy that immediately tightened his throat was unreasonable, she shouldn’t be talking to a guy! She’s flirting, she’s totally flirting.

His pulse quickened, a cold shiver prickled his skin. He, this meathead, was probably tall, young, strong. Someone she’d find cute, attractive, maybe funny. It burned at him, and he hated it. But, from where he was, all he could do was watch.

Good fucking lord look at that ass…

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Melissa felt them on her, she felt his eyes, from that upstairs window. They were on her rear, and the gaze of them warmed her, brought a moist heat between her legs. In response she embellished it, displaying herself to him, lazily rolling her hips as she leaned over, talking to this skinny, nervous guy in the truck. He could watch her from his little post, from that little window, he could watch all he wanted. I like him looking at my butt, thinking about it. And he could have it, it could be his, she thought, presenting herself, getting wetter as she imagined him staring at her, maybe getting hard...

“I was a model, yes,” she answered, as AJ’s questions had come predictably to her appearance. She did her best to act flirty, though her thoughts were distracted, elsewhere, upstairs in that apartment. “That was me, the Mega-Milk girl…”

=====================

my apologies but I have no idea who did the morphing in the first image. I've left it untouched/no faceswap so if anyone can figure it out, I'd love to credit the artist. In the meantime, enjoy the curves.

More GITJ stuff at my Patreon

#growing into the job

[blonde-in-charge]

Wildcard, Chapter Six

Summary: Steve Rogers found you on the side of the road after a mission involving Hydra and convinced the Avengers to take you in. You have no name, no memories, and no idea of what you are capable of. All you know is that you are a super soldier with more hidden abilities than you care to admit. The first step to finding answers was to train you. Nobody, including you, knows what is up your sleeve.

Characters: Bucky x reader, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Random Hydra Soldiers

Warnings: blood/violence, murder, suffocation, scars

Words: 1.9k

A/N: Hey guys! This fic is a little shorter but I hope you enjoy it and please let me know how you like it!

Link to the taglist

You slept peacefully for the first time in over a year. You opened one eye to peek at your surroundings. The small cabin bed room was filled with the beautiful morning light, shining through the white curtains. The sun did justice to the man sleeping opposite you, the sheets pushed down to his waistline, following the deep V of muscle. The strong metal bicep was tucked under his head, his face was completely relaxed. His other arm was draped over your naked shoulders, holding you close to his side. You closed your eye and let your hand trail from Bucky’s collarbone down his torso, memorizing the ridges of muscle. You felt him shift slightly as he woke, you turned your head to face him, resting your chin on his chest. His eyes opened slowly, blinking at the brightness of the room before they settled on you, looking up at him sweetly. 

“Mornin’ Buck,” You said quietly, your lips tugging up into a smile.

He smiled back at you sleepily, running his hand through your hair, “Good morning, doll.”

“So what is our plan today? I know we are going to train but do we have a video conference with the team?” You asked, propping your head up on your hand. 

Bucky groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, “Why are you already trying to start the day, we are still in bed.” 

“Then come on, Barnes,” You said sitting up, the sheet falling from your bare chest, “Let's get out of bed then.”

Bucky grinned mischievously, “Absolutely not,” He wrapped an arm around your waist, throwing you back down onto the bed under him, making you squeal. 

-

You stood in the center of a clearing with Bucky, studying the trees surrounding the both of you. You had walked from the cabin to find somewhere you could train and not cause a forest fire. You adjusted the sleeves on your training suit, as they rubbed uncomfortably against the scars encircling your wrists. You watched Bucky set up various targets around you, today we were going to try propelling sharp icicles, or at least creating them and then throwing them like a knife. You felt something else stir within you as the wind blew harshly through the trees. You have had this feeling before, the tingling sensation underneath your skin, begging to be released. You let the ice seep from your pores, encapsulating your hands, hoping to scratch the itch of power from inside of you. The wind blew harshly, causing your anxiety to spike. You whipped around as you heard a noise come from the tree line behind you. 

“Hey Buck? Something doesn't feel right…” You started, you turned back around to face your friend, finding him on the ground with blood coming from his hairline. A dark haired man stood over him, with a gun pointing down at Bucky. You recognized the man from your nightmare the night before and your heart dropped.

“Hello, pet.” The man spat out, grinning at you nastily with yellowed teeth.

 You took a step forward, but the man's index finger flew to the trigger quickly and you froze. “Why are you here?” You asked him, raising your hands up to show you were unarmed. 

The man's grin faded, and turned into slight annoyance, “Here to collect my property, but there were some obstacles.” He gestured the gun at Bucky, who stared up at him in disdain, “Nobody has to get hurt if you just come with me, pet.” 

You assessed the situation and looked down from the man, to Bucky. His eyes were angry until they met yours, they were filled with concern. He held up the number three with his fingers by his side where you could see. You started formulating a plan as he put down a finger, two. You could feel the buzzing underneath your skin as the wind blew your hair back, then it clicked. Bucky’s last finger went down and he shot his hand upward, grabbing the man. The man turned towards Bucky, pushing him away and aiming his gun at your lover. You flicked your arm upwards, creating an ice barrier between the man and Bucky. You started walking towards the man, feeling the fire escape from your eyes. He watched you with a grin, almost as if he was sickly proud of himself.

Bucky circled the wall of ice, forcing the man's attention elsewhere. The man shot at Bucky's metal arm, which ricocheted off to somewhere in the tree line. You heard rustling behind you and turned to greet eight more assailants, who were probably with this guy. The man bared the mark of hydra on their suits as they advanced towards you. They circled around you, their rifles pointed straight at you. Your hands shot up into the air, pushing the fire from your body. Most men jumped back, but at least two of them were caught in the flames. You could hear Bucky behind you trying to defend himself, no doubt from more men who came to the fight. You created circles of fire around each individual man, trying to contain them away from you. Forcing your way through the plethora of men, you made your way to your friend, your lover. Bucky was fending off the four men who were throwing themselves at him. One man had Bucky’s neck locked in his elbow, Bucky maneuvered himself, using his metal arm he punched the man in the ribs until he was released from their hold. Behind you, your fire was extinguishing, freeing the men you trapped from the circles of flames. You halted your approach to Bucky when you felt the cool metal of a gun against the back of your neck.

“I’d stop right there, pet.” The man behind you said, his voice dripping with venom. You held your hand up in the air, watching Bucky surrender to the men around him. The men grabbed Bucky and half dragged him to stand in front of you. “This could end now, pet. You can come with us now, willingly, and Soldat will live,” Bucky flinched at the name, “or you can refuse, and we will kill him here in front of you.” A hydra soldier stepped up behind Bucky and cocked his own gun, pushing it into the back of Bucky’s skull. 

Bucky swore under his breath, “Y/N, you're not going with them.” You kept your eyes trained on the grass in front of you, feeling the flames prick the back of your eyes like tears. You finally met Bucky’s eyes, your complete eye had turned white. Bucky looked back at you in pure confusion, in almost a blink of an eye you had reached back and disarmed the man behind you, striking him across the face with the butt of the gun. You spun around and stood, shooting the man holding Bucky hostage right in between the eyes. The two men who were holding Bucky down had long since ran away from the scene. Around you, a dome of swirling wind started forming, sheltering you from the rest of the soldiers who were attempting to rush you. You turn to see the man you had disarmed, starting to get on his knees. You grabbed the hair at the back of his head and forced him to look up at you.

“You made me this monster.” You watched his eyes fill with horror as he struggled to breathe. You were sucking the air out of his lungs, suffocating him, the way he had suffocated you between the doses he would inject into you. You felt the sickening satisfaction swell within you as he started turning purple.

“Y/N, STOP!” You froze, reality setting in as you stepped back from the man, watching him fall to the ground and fight for air. You turned back the color rushing back to your whitened eyes as you met him. You looked up at the swirling dome of wind around you as it disappeared. The field you were in was now empty, only filled with the quinjet. You looked up to see Natasha escorting a hydra soldier into the jet in cuffs. In front of the jet, stood Steve. Steve watched you with worry in his eyes, he had just watched you almost murder a man. You hadn't realized the ringing in your ears was drowning out every noise ever. You watched as agents from SHEILD came to arrest and transport the man who had made you into this monster. 

- 

You remained silent the entire trip back to the Avengers tower. You sat at the back of the jet, away from the people who cared about you most. The ringing in your ears had not ceased, only grew more annoying. You ignored the worrying glances from the avengers as you surveyed your hands. You were so capable of many things, but what were they? You pulled your sleeves back from the jagged scars around your wrists, shivering as the memories came flooding back to you.

The metal underneath your skin never ceased to draw the goosebumps to the surface. Your face was stained and swollen from the tears you had shed from the previous dose you were given. Today was a new room, same experiment table. The room you were in was comparable to one where you would get a CAT scan or MRI done. The only difference was, this room could be depleted of oxygen in under a minute, suffocating whoever was inside. Today the men had come in, and injected the same serum you had been given the last year, then wheeled you into this room. The ceiling was more interesting in this room as you studied the various vents and tubing. A loud buzzing noise brought you out of your thoughts and you turned your attention to the red light flick on in the center of the room, indicating the new cycle was starting. Your body tensed as your lungs heaved for stolen air. You could feel your face changing color and you prayed that you would lose consciousness. Your body was locked from lack of oxygen and you barely registered the biting pain from the cuffs in your wrists. You tried focusing on trying to get your wrist free instead of the immense pain of every vein in your neck popping from exertion. You heard the metal of the cuffs pop and you sat yourself up, easily ripping off the cuffs around your ankles. You held your throbbing arms to your chest as you located one glass wall. You threw your fists at it over and over again, watching it crack beneath your touch. You leaned up against the glass, considering giving in to the darkness at the edges of your vision. You gave it one more shot and threw your body against the glass, shattering it completely. The air rushed back into your lungs and you laid on the ground, savouring the oxygen. You groaned loudly and rolled onto your stomach before pushing yourself up, onto your shaky legs. Your legs were weak after months of no movement, you forced your way through the metal hallways, you leaned against the walls as you made your way around, searching for an exit. After a couple moments you found it, the gate that led out. You rushed towards the door and it opened with little force. The light of the sun blinded you for a couple moments, you squinted and stuck close to the exterior wall. In the air, you watched what almost looked like a plane land on the other side of the compound and panic swelled within you. You looked off into the trees surrounding the compound and you ran. 

forever tags:

@lhiamelona-blog

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #marvel imagine

[hes-writer]

Don’t Make A Scene

Summary: y/n is an actress and harry is jealous

Warnings: unwanted touching, implied smut, a teensy bit of angst and fluff

Word Count: 2000 words

“You have to what?” Harry raised his voice slightly at the news. 

Y/N fiddled at the silver jewelry adorning her wrist, “It’s a quick scene,” She retorted. “It’ll only be on screen for a minute or less,” 

He shook his head as if disappointed. His lips in a firm line tucked in his mouth while his brows furrowed in complete confusion.

“Y/N, listen to me. You have a choice to do this scene or not and you’re just—,” Hary's hands gestured gesticulatively, cutting through the air in an appointed manner. 

Y/N huffed lightly, “I’m just what?”

Harry groaned, frustrated with the way this night is taking a turn to. “You’re just doing whatever they tell you to!”

“Harry, this is my decision!” Y/N explained, “No one’s forcing me to do anything,” 

“So you’re just kissing him for what?”

“For a thank you because his character literally saved my life!”

Harry looked like a fish out of the water as he tried to conjure up a response to her words.

“You can come to the set if it makes you feel better,” Y/N offered, to which Harry immediately agreed to. "You can't get angry at me for doing my job, Harry."

-----

Harry is a jealous person. There wasn’t much shame in admitting it because he believed that what’s his was solely his—especially Y/N. The idea of his love sharing intimacy with another person, albeit a co-star, was enough kindling to light a fire at the base of his spine, slithering up his back and making his head heated to the point that every thought fired by his neurons resembled an atomic bomb. He could feel his hands itching to stay put, his nerves aching to grab Y/N and never let her go.

Y/N could see Harry’s antsy body from the peripheral of her vision. The curly-haired boy glancing anxiously upon the set; a room with dark mahogany walls decored with wooden furniture and accented knick-knacks sitting atop. The atmosphere of the set was enigmatic, curtains shut with only a sliver of orange-hued light peeking through directly on the bed. Candles were lit around the room, wafting off a cinnamon vanilla aroma that reminded Y/N of the ones she would carefully light when the time arose with Harry.

The pout of his pink lips deepened as he released a breath, his cheeks puffed up while his eyes tried to catch hers indicating that Harry’s usual calm persona was close to crumbling. Time was drawing closer as the producers slowly wore their ear-in pieces and microphones, adjusting the equipment to fit comfortably. 

“How you doing, baby?” Y/N asked gently, wanting to comfort him as best as she could before she was skewed away in the world of acting. Her hands folded his curls atop Harry’s crown, palm grazing the creased lines of his forehead as he tilted his head up to look at her from his decreased height on her assigned chair. 

“Do you have to do it?” Harry quipped silently, his voice resembling a whine. During the time of their argument to now, he managed to swap his thoughts from being angry to accepting, Well, as best as he could. Y/N was glad that their argument did not explode more than it had to.

He whined low in his throat when Y/N nodded, wrapping his arms around her waist. The fuzzy material of her robe caressing his cheek and Harry briefly forgot what he was here for in the first place. 

“Alright, everyone. Places!” The director’s voice boomed through his mic, amplified by the speakers surrounding the studio. Harry pouted some more when Y/N practically untangled his hands latched tightly from around her middle. Her make-up artists powdering her face with translucent powder as she walked towards the bathroom of the set. He smiled slightly at the sight; his love was so talented and he couldn’t be any prouder than he is right now. 

“Action!”

 The lights dimmed to further accentuate the romantic atmosphere of the room, the cameras slowly moving in circles, zooming in and capturing the room. Y/N’s co-star, Allen, was sat upon the headboard with his back supported, the lower half of his body was draped with a silky red sheet covering up to his upper thigh. Harry could only roll his eyes at the cliche scene with Allen’s gaze focused on a book, fingers flicking focusing in on the bathroom door opening. 

Harry could hear the muttering of the director, cueing the crew to indicate Y/N’s arrival to the lenses’ eye. Y/N opened the door just as the large camera drifted to focus on her. Her innocent face appearing on the screen, hair tousled and make-up was just the same as Harry had seen moments ago, only this time did a seductive stare plastered her face. Her lids hooded the dark fluttering of her lashes as her pointer finger rested upon her lower lip. Harry gulped, shifting silently in his seat.

Everything happened in slow motion after that. Allen’s eyes drifting from the words on the book to Y/N carefully untying the knot of her robe, revealing stretches of smooth skin that had Harry’s mouth watering despite the circumstances. The nape of his neck bubbled with heat while he watched the scene unfold to its climax.

Y/N walked until she was at the foot of the bed, Allen meeting her with his knees digging on the mattress as their lips grazed each others’, muttering the necessary lines from their scripts. His hands wandered around the fabric before Allen pushed the robe off from Y/N’s rounded shoulders, dropping on the hardwood with a soft thud. Harry’s jaw dropped at the lingerie adorning her body, speckles of black lace covering her most intimate parts but surely left little to the imagination. The opaque material highlighting the peeks of her breasts, intricate lace swirling around the firmness of her buttcheeks. The garter snapped around her thigh attached to a fishnet stocking was enough to have Harry imagining doing dirty things to his girl.

The camera shifted its neck lower and lower, following Allen’s hands caressing her soft skin raising with goosebumps before resting on the crest of her bum. Harry’s annoyance overpowered his arousal as he watched another man’s touch affecting Y/N even if she didn’t mean to. 

Y/N craned her neck clockwise, adding to the sensuality of the scene and for Allen to nip at her neck. Her mind was zeroed in on capturing the essence of the script as perfectly as possible, the goosebumps on her body elevating with the need to push Allen’s hands away from her. Still, she continued with her acting. Y/N was a professional actress after all. 

She counted in her mind to make sure that her lines were delivered on time, willing her body to relax under the touch of another man’s hands, knowing that her tense figure would be captured by the prying eyes of the camera reeling. A gasp parted her mouth open when Allen squeezed both of her butt cheeks tightly, gripping the tender skin with enough force to prickle tears in her eyes, his fingertips leaving white indentations for a few seconds before turning a blush red. 

“Cut!” The director yelled, “That wasn’t in the script, Allen! Are you alright, Y/N?”

Harry leaned forward, forearms resting on the armrests, his ears straining to hear the conversation being shared as the director angrily stomped to the stars, his microphone tilted away from his mouth. 

She nodded slowly, gulping a ball of wool down her throat. “I’m fine,”

“We have a script and we follow it so everyone is comfortable.” 

An arrogant smirk drooped Allen's cheeks, glancing at Y/N,  her arms awkwardly hanging at the sides of her body. “I thought it felt right. Right, Y/N?” Allen eyed Harry walking towards them, a pissed off look on his face but he couldn’t care less.

“What the fuck?”

“It’s acting, pal. Don’t get so heated,” Allen’s hair flopped in front of his eyes, hiding a mischievous glint.

“You don’t treat women like that even if you’re acting,” Harry’s timbre mellowed the tense aura, noticing Y/N’s barely covered body still adorned in goosebumps from the chilly air. He removed his jacket, wrapping it around her.

The director nodded in agreement, fingers massaging his temples as he glanced at his watch. “Sort this out. I’ll be right back,” 

Allen chuckled in disbelief, “It’s acting.” As if his annunciation would magically make his actions better. “We’re professionals, right Y/N?”

Both men watched Y/N in anticipation of her response, Harry's silent stare asking her a million times to say what she means, to address the elephant in the room before stuffing herself in the corner in fear of confrontation. 

“Yeah, we are.” Y/N began, tucking Harry’s jacket tighter around her, “It doesn’t mean I deserved what you did,” She snuggled closer to Harry’s side, finding comfort by the heat of his body close to her. “I don’t want you touching me like that unless it says so.”

Harry sized Allen up, noticing the swole biceps and peaked pecs but he would knock him out this instant if Y/N told him to. 

“Fine. Whatever, we’ll have to do this scene again anyway,” Allen’s confident tone shook Y/N with fear and rattled Harry’s control to the ground. 

“Actually, you won’t have to,” The director returned with a clipboard grasped in his aged-hands, a pen tucked in his ear. “You’re fired, Allen.”

“What?”

“I expected you to treat Y/N with respect but you didn’t,”

Harry hugged Y/N closer to his side, their eyes wide in surprise at the bombshell.

“Oh, come on! You can’t do this. I’m the male lead,” Allen pointed out with such arrogance and defiance against authority. “You can’t shoot this without me.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed in worry. It was only the first day of filming and without a lead; there would be no movie.

“Of course we can,” The director answered calmly, “Why do you think we film the intimate scenes first? Need to see if you can treat your co-stars with respect before we move on,"

Allen’s mouth was dropped open, frustration clearly etched on his features. If Harry didn’t know any better, he might have felt bad for the guy, but his filthy hands marked his girlfriend up without her consent and that’s just not something that he can let slide off his back.

Allen ordered his assistant to get his shirt, slipping his head in the hole before storming off to his dressing room. The director turned to the couple with an apologetic face, promising Y/N that her next co-star is someone that respected her as their partner. 

“Harry, would you like to audition?”

Y/N squealed in delight, immediately wrapped her hands around his wrist, bouncing up and down with excitement, “Will you do it, please?”

“Are you serious?” 

The director nodded, “I’ve seen you on Dunkirk. A Nolan film for your debut,” His tone carried an impressed valve. “I think Y/N here would love for you to be her co-star,”

Harry stared at Y/N’s pleading, doe eyes. He sighed, nodding with a small smile on his lips, “I’d love to,”

“Great!” The director clapped his hands in celebration, announcing through his headset that they would be filming the scene again. “This is your audition scene. I want this film to showcase intimacy and unrequited love between two people battling against the criticisms of the outside world, think you can do that?”

Harry’s mind reeled in the judgments, comments and harsh words spewed at him and Y/N for being together. The criticisms harshly raking up and yelled in their ears when they didn’t know the truth. Rumours painted to tear them apart, causing doubts and misunderstandings but they always worked through it. It pained his heart to have the world treat her like they did, especially when she was the sweetest little things that could have ever graced foot on the world.

 “Already am,”

_____

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut

[factual-fantasy]

Its done! Its all finally done!! All 16 cars! Man, this took like, what, two weeks?? This is one of the biggest and riskiest projects I’ve done in a long while. My hands are bruised and sore and I hope now more than ever that this was all worth it! And yes, the two mystery cars were Dragsters all along! If you’re wondering how a race car like that can be even remotely similar to a Tank, a Tractor, a bathtub with an Engine, a little tikes car, AND a power wheels... well, they’ve got a butt ton of power, they’ve got the biggest friggin tires EVER, they’re basically just flat bowls with pipe legs and an engine, and they’re most certainly toys so... kinda? Also the whole “You’ll wonder what’s in my family basement” thing? They’re trophies. Lots of them.

And I know the names aren’t cool Transformer names, I just wrote down their main name as what they are most commonly called.

Also, I bet you’ve noticed that my persona is in a few of the drawings? Well I put myself beside the cars that are my favorites. The very first drawing, Suburban, being my all time favorite.

Now what I have after the keep reading is a list of summary’s for each cars personality. You absolutely do not have to read them, but I worked hard on it and think they’re cool so.. I at least encourage you to take a lil peek. :}

So you wanna learn more ey? Well let me give you a little summary on their personalities!

Note: Some of the cars’s pictures have been taken from google because I didn’t actually have a picture of the car in my camera roll. And The google image is not identical to the actual car, its just the closest thing I could find. Also for privacy reasons, I will not say the name, age, gender or relation of the drivers of the cars or how many drivers there are in total. And also for privacy reasons, all the cars aside from the google images have been cropped or blurred to hide the background.

Also I am writing their descriptions as if they are real Transformers and have met some of the real Autobots.

Now, to the cars!

Suburban: Is my favorite out of all our cars. Suburban is similar to Bulkhead in may ways, he looks kind’a like him, he is gentle, considerate and kind to those around him. Big and small. Although he isn’t a meat head, he’s a smart guy that thinks everything through before doing it to ensure everyone’s safety. And he isn’t a Wrecker, or a Soldier, he’s a field medic. He uses his size and strength to charge into battle and retrieve wounded soldiers. He tows people out of harms way and uses himself as a shield to protect, not to harm. Although he can kick aft if it is necessary. Because he is not super chatty, is very compliant and polite, he gets along great with Ratchet.

Miata: Miata is a very squirrely scout and energetic go get’er. She’s always bouncing off the walls and just itching to get back out onto the road and show the other bots just what she can do! Although she isn’t an air head and knows when to joke around and when to take things seriously. She points that energy in the right direction while out on the battlefield. She is one of the faster bots of the bunch and always uses that to her advantage during fights. She’s real witty and clever, so she gets along pretty well with U.M.Dragster. She seems to always be smiling and laughing, so just like Escort, she really brightens everyone up where ever she goes.

Escort: One of my favorite cars. Escort is a very old bot that has been through quite a bit. In real life its idle is so quiet you cant even tell the car is on. But I always kind’a pictured him having a tendency to be a bit chatty. He is a really nice guy but there seems to always be something wrong with him physically, He is a recurring patient in the docs office for sure. He is very small, not strong at all and not particularity fast.. but boy is he smart. He is an Engineer turned backup medic, He can fix just about anything and always manages to bounce back from any and every situation. Mentally and physically. He is really positive and normally brightens up the team because of it. He is polite to everyone and easy to get along with, all he wants to do is help people and not be a burden.

Brown Suburban: The Brown Suburban is a bot of few words, the strong and quiet type you know? However despite being normally quiet, he has the best laugh there is. The only time this old lug smiles is if he’s laughing. Which is probably partly why him and U.M.Dragster are such inseparable friends, U.M.Dragster is the only bot that can make him laugh. Brown is a guy that can handle a lot, when it comes to annoying kids or injuries, its difficult to get him wound up. He’s just too tired to bother getting upset or worked up over the little things. He’s not too easy to talk to because of the lac of response you normally get, but I assure you he listens to every word you say.

U.M.Dragster: U.M.Dragster is surprisingly our youngest car, currently standing at only 14 years old. And obviously, he is by far the fastest of our cars, he’s even faster than his sister. He is fast, witty, and courageous, but cant dead lift scrap. As a transformer, he’s an energetic young scout that somehow is friends with the big lug Brown Suburban. Some people think Brown only likes him because U.M.Dragster makes him laugh. Now, U.M.Dragster is guy that knows if he was just given another chance, he would really light up the race track. He can be a real stinker most of the time, but generally he’s real sweet and honestly just wants to be worth something again.

A.T.Dragster:  A.T. Dragster is U.M.s big sister and our oldest car, currently standing at 51 years old. She is a lively spirit, and most certainly carries that big sister energy with the other Autobots, not just with her brother. She is a kind bot that uses her speed and agility to help out in any way she can. She just wants to help, and be of use again. She does everything in her power to stay alive and keep fighting. She tends to be a little more laid back compared to the other Autobots and doesn’t seem to get surprised by anything easily.

Green Truck: One of my favorites, and our second to oldest car. He has most certainly been there and done that. He has seen it all, war, injuries, death, betrayal, he’s heard all kind’s of screams and cries, all kinds of destruction.. He’s too tired to dwell on the memories anymore, he just focuses his energy on helping out in any way he can now that he’s back in the game. He’s a big guy, and despite his age, he is one of our strongest cars, standing in second place. He’s someone that knows that when duty calls, you just have to suck it up and get dirty work over with. And of course, due to his age he is a frequent flyer in the med bay. But he tries to not let that get him down. He’s still in fighting shape and can stand on his own two pedes. He fits something that Peter Cullen’s brother once said, “Be strong enough to be gentle”. Green Truck at his core is just an old soft hearted bot that gets along really well with basically everyone.. and just wants this stupid war to end.  

Vega: Although Vega is very old, he’s one of the fastest guys on the team, but he isn’t one to brag. He is a frequent flyer in the med bay after all. He’s a humble bot, who still has so much more life left to live. He’s not really shy, but he’s normally a bit quiet around the other bots. He’s still adjusting to being around so many people again and trying to get his barrings back when it comes to fighting. Like every other Autobot, he’s a nice guy and is pretty easy to talk to because he’s a good listener. But don’t let him get too comfortable with you, because then he’ll be the one talking your ear off. Vega isn’t necessarily the smart one of the group, he’s better at just being told what to do and doing it how ever he can. Vega is also a bit nervous around Humans. He’s new to Earth and not great with kids, he has so much to learn it gives him a headache just thinking about it. No, Vega isn’t really the smart one, he’s the strong and fast one. He’s a Soldier. He’s a monster out on the track and can beat the snot out of you if he needs to.

Red Van: Red Van is the Mamma bot for sure. She may be a van, but she’s a real hot rod. In her eyes, everyone is her baby. Even Optimus. She goes to great lengths to ensure their safety and always puts them first. She is a nurse and is always checking up on everyone and worrying about them. She can be really sweet, and she adjusted to being around the Human children faster than any of the other bots did. Although she does have a tendency to be a bit chatty, she really does help to brighten up the atmosphere where ever she is. Because of the motherly vibe she gives off, the other bots feel more comfortable around her and normally go to her to talk about their problems.

White Truck: White Truck is a real go getter and is always ready to lend a helping hand whenever its needed. He may not be very fast, or very strong, but he’s fairly big and can still hold himself decently in a fight. He is also pretty smart, he isn’t a certified engineer but he knows his way around most gadgets. He’s careful with Humans and wants to better understand them, but he still has a lot to learn. He’s really kind and tries his best to help out in anyway he can, when ever he can.

Beluga: Beluga is a really chirpy and bubbly person, She gets along very well with Humans and bots alike. Although she is a completely different person on the battlefield. Some would even call her ruthless. When asked, she explains that she tries to be very kind to everyone all the time and just bottles up her anger and frustration over anything and everything. Big or small. And then later proceeds to release that anger out on the battlefield. All and all though she doesn't like to hurt people. Bad guy or not.. but because of how she handles stress and because of her physical strength being very great, she believes she can better help others by being a soldier.

Honda: Honda has never been one for close combat, no, she prefers long distance, so chose to put her already acquired skills to the test as a fighter pilot instead. Opting to not see her enemy as she kills them.. Like Beluga, she doesn’t really want to hurt anyone. Honda is a smart girl that can pilot and repair almost any kind of Cybertronian aircraft. Honda gets along wonderfully with the Human children, and just Humans in general. She is very patient with them and always remembers to be very gentle. Shes a really sweet young bot that can be a bit shy at times, but is normally very bright and bubbly. Her and little sister Beluga are inseparable.

Ranger: Ranger is a tough gal for sure. If Cybertron had a word for Cowgirl, it would be used to describe her. At her core, she has a soft spot for those she considers family and would do anything to protect those she cares about. At times she can be very laid back, but she most certainly knows when fun times over and when things are getting serious. Something most people don’t really know about her is that she has a deep fascination with Earths Oceans and other bodies of water. Any chance she gets while scouting or something similar, she likes to stop by a river nearby and just watch the water flow curiously. Because of her soft spot, she cares very deeply about the Autobots and despises the Decepticons. Primarily because their very existence is a danger to her friends lives.

Volvo: Volvo is the silent type for sure. He is extremely intelligent and has no time for chit chat. If he discovers a subject that he doesn’t know anything about and that he also believes could be useful information, he will work tirelessly to learn every single thing possible about that subject. He is a hard worker and takes everything seriously, he has no time for jokes and games. Him and Ultra Magnus get along swell. Although despite this all, Humans intrigue him, and he wants to learn more about them. So despite him and Magnus being virtually the same in most ways, he does partake in Human shenanigans to “learn more about their species and culture”.

Jeepy: Jeepy is a real hot shot, but the friendly kind. He thinks Humans are a riot and fun to play around with. Jeepy normally isn’t particularly careful with Humans because he hasn’t fully grasped the fact that Humans all have this genetic condition called uh, fragile. So a side effect of that is he takes Miko on these crazy dangerous fun rides in secret because Bulkhead has common sense wont take her. He may have his moments of not thinking things through.. but he truly means well and would never intentionally hurt an ally, same species or not. If he knew better, he would be more careful. He’s got a big heart and his drive to fight comes from wanting to protect others and end this war. To end the suffering of his friends. Of the Autobots.

Bash Buggy: If you know anything about Overwatch, he’s basically Junkrat, just not on fire 24/7. He takes weekends off. Now, Buggy is an Autobot, so his spark is in the right place, and at his core he is a genuinely good person. He’s just a little weird you know? He’s got a few screws loose here and there.. and a missing fender.. or two.. and a trunk.. and his back seats.. and an optic.. ANYWAY, despite his ragged appearance, he is not dumb. In fact, he is actually very smart, and disturbingly calculated when it comes to his explosives. Buggy actually makes all of his own grenades and is pretty knowledgeable when it comes to other kinds of weapons and how to repair them. But he’s no medic that’s for sure. Although he is generally smart, he’s kind’a of a dunce when it comes to the severity of injuries because of how durable he is. He could be in blinding pain and bleeding out of every crack and crevasse, and just go, ”Let me go back out there chief! I can still fight! ୧⍢⃝୨”.

#my ocs #transformers #transformer ocs

[talkfastromance4]

Poolside part 2--c.h

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

a/n: I blame Calum. Read first part here

Word count: 2k

Warnings: smut no plot basically (female receiving oral)

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Enjoy :)

• • • •

You’d come home after doing a quick grocery run, Duke greeting you by the door with his fluffy tail wagging at your arrival. Reaching into one of the bags you hand him a small bone you bought and he trots away to his favorite spot on the couch. Usually upon hearing Duke and the cupboards opening and closing, Calum would be greeting you with a kiss and squeeze to your waist peering at the goodies you bought but he didn’t come.

Pausing your actions of tossing the yogurts in the drawer to listen for distant guitar playing, your ears didn’t pick up on a melody. He’s obviously home because his car is in the garage and if one of the guys picked him up for lunch or something he definitely would have texted you. 

He’s gotta be around here somewhere, you conclude after putting the last of the groceries away. 

You move to the sliding doors and spot your boyfriend doing some laps in the pool then notice a pair of weights sitting on the other side. He glides easily through the water, his mop of blond/black curls bobbing above the water. You sigh watching the muscles in his back constrict and it brings you back to a few months ago when he was out by the pool. 

A lightbulb goes off in your head and you skip your way to your bedroom fishing for a brand new suit you ordered. It was an impulsive buy and something you never would have bought while sober (Michael and Crystal were over one night and she insisted on you purchasing the swimsuit). It’s a black two piece with the top being fastened together in the front by a gold hoop, it pushes your breasts together thoughtfully and the bottoms also had two gold rings on the sides. What made it extra special was how the bottoms were thongs.

You turn every which way in the full body mirror behind the door of the bathroom, humming at how well it looks on you. It accents your curves and makes your ass look extra plump. You felt sexy and couldn’t wait to show off your impulse buy to Calum. 

When you enter the pool area, Calum’s out on the opposite side jumping rope, his hair flopping against his forehead. Trying to act like you don’t see him, you make your way directly across from him, yoga mat in your arms, making sure to swish your hips a bit more pronounced. 

You roll your mat down until it’s flat, bending over with your ass pointed in Calum’s direction as you do so then step onto the squishy mat. You raise your arms over your head, eyes closed as you breathe in deeply then open your eyes to Calum’s intense stare at you as you bring your arms down. He’s currently doing bicep curls with his weights, his sweat and a pool water mixture run down his chest in droplets.

With an innocent smile, you wiggle your fingers in his direction in a ‘hello’ gesture then turn your back to him. Ashton has shown you some new yoga moves to do so you start out with the simplest one of downward facing dog. From your vantage point, you spread your legs a little so you can see him through the opening as you rise on your toes ever so slightly to feel the stretch. You try to focus on your breathing but Calum’s gaze makes your heart race as he stares directly at your ass in the air.

Feeling smug, you hold the pose for another thirty seconds before transitioning into the puppy dog stretch. With your arms stretched before you and your chest and knees flat on the mat, your ass sticks up in the air. To your amusement you hear Calum grunt from across the way. Whether it’s from his weight lifting or your current position (one that you both love in the bedroom) you’re feeling euphoric and just waiting for him to come over. 

You hold this pose for thirty seconds more, rocking back onto your heels to really feel the pull in your upper arms. You peek under your arm to Calum and he’s sat on the pool chair leaning forward on his knees, watching you intently. 

Smirking, you rise up from the position and move to your back so you can do the reclined big toe which is a favorite of Ashton’s and now a favorite of yours. When you lift your right leg up, up, up until you grab your big toe, you tilt your head to the side just in time to see Calum shaking his head at you. 

He pushes off the pool chair and slips into the water until he’s on your side off the pool. He doesn’t come out though, instead he rests his arms on the ledge and continues to watch you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, voice deep and low. It fills your tummy with butterflies. 

“Yoga,” you respond innocently lowering your leg then lifting the other one. You give him a smile as he bites his lip. His brown eyes darken as he slides his gaze up and down your leg. 

“Is that a new suit?” he prompts.

“Yeah, Crystal convinced me to buy it,” you sigh and lower your leg. You move to a sitting position pressing the bottoms of your feet together into a butterfly position, this was your favorite because it made you more flexible and the pull in your muscles felt wonderful. “What do you think?”

“Love it,” he grins, his eyes zeroing in on your breasts that are pushed even more together because of the position of your arms. “Why don’t you come over here so I can have a closer look.”

“I’m not finished yet,” you shake your head leaning forward to feel more of the stretch. 

“Let me finish for you,” he lifts his hand and motions you to him with his two fingers. “Get your cute ass over here.”

The change in tone stirs something inside you and you can’t help but obey him. You release your feet then saunter your way over to him. He moves back then pats the concrete for where he wants you to sit. You oblige, enjoying the cool feeling of the water on your legs. The hot LA sun already made your skin warm but when Calum’s hands spread your legs open you were covered in goosebumps from his touch. 

“Closer,” he orders and you scoot closer to him until your butt is right on the edge. The sun shines in his mixture of blond and dark curls, begging for your fingers. “I like the gold, here.” his finger presses inside the gold hoop below your breasts, water dribbles down your stomach. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” you mumble.

“Very pretty,” his eyes meet yours and he drags his finger to the gold hoop on your waist. He circles it teasingly. “These are pretty too. Can you take them off for me?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise and you glance around the yard, you know your neighbors are a very good distance away but still. The last time you had a rendezvous by the pool you were at least under the safety of the house in the shade. Now the sun felt like a large spotlight. 

“No one can see, baby,” he teases reading your mind and then he kisses the inside of your knee. 

Giving in to his voice and his touch, you work them off your legs setting them next to you. Calum hums appreciatively, his hands firm on the tops of your thighs as he leaves a trail of wet, hot kisses up your inner thigh. His mouth hovers over your core, breath hot and he glances up at you smirking before kissing down the other side. 

“Cal,” you breathe, his hands tightening. “Don’t tease, please.”

“You were teasing me,” he mumbles kissing his way back up again. He stops to suck on the flesh of your inner thigh.

“Not on purpose.”

“Bullshit,” he chuckles and sucks on another part closer to where you want him more. “Should I tease you more until you’re begging for my mouth?” his lips are delicate on your lower stomach as he kisses the area, it leaves your pussy throbbing. “Love when you beg for it.”

You bite your lip as he leaves more little love bites on your body, torn between giving what he wants and begging or just doing it because you’re desperate for his tongue on your clit. Instead, you reach your fingers in his hair to try and aid his face lower but he laces his fingers in yours pushing them away from his hair. 

“No touching my hair until you beg, sweetheart,” he warns and your hips buck forward involuntarily. 

You groan in frustration, the sun and his actions making you even hotter and you have no choice but to give in. 

“Please...please, Cal,” you whisper, curling your toes against his sides. 

“Please what, pretty girl?” he exhales over your core and a shiver races through your body. 

“Want your mouth on me, please, please, please,” you beg.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he huffs then lifts your left leg onto his shoulder and dives in. 

Your head tilts back from his wet tongue slipping in and out of your folds, toes already curling from the sensations. You’re itching to grab hold of his curls in your fingers and as if reading your mind, Calum brings your hand into his thick hair. You grab on desperately and he hums against you, tongue circling around your clit deliciously and your stomach drops as if on a rollercoaster. 

His tongue works you over expertly as he moves his head from side to side then up and down with the motions of his tongue. His tongue slips inside your hole and you gasp, toes curling tightly onto his back as he keeps it there working his muscle inside you. 

“Mm, fuck, Cal,” you exhale, mouth staying open in ecstasy. He hums which sends another shockwave of pleasure through your body then he ups the ante and really works his mouth on you. 

Your other hand flies into his hair, guiding his mouth where you want him to be as your stomach bubbles with your orgasm fastly approaching. He lets you move his head and then you throw your head back as your orgasm tickles its way throughout your body. A long moan exudes from your lips and your eyes seem to go blind from the intense pleasure. 

When it starts to subside you think Calum will pull away but he continues to eat you out, urging another orgasm from you as his tongue nudges your clit repeatedly. Your ears ring as you come on his mouth once more, chest heaving and your grip in his hair becomes even tighter. 

“Give it to me, sweetheart,” he pants and works his lower jaw faster to prolong your second orgasm. It leaves you curled over, nose in his hair and breathing heavily. A mixture of his shampoo, his sweat and the chlorine fills your nose and you love it. 

When your body finally relaxes your toes straighten out and your fingers loosen from his curls. You sit up straight and he gives you a cocky grin, his chin glistening from your juices. You hold his cheeks and lean down to give him a searing kiss, his arms slide around to your backside yanking you into the water.

The quick temperature change makes you squeal against his mouth and he laughs continuing his kiss. You feel his hardened cock press against your thigh. 

“How long has this been here?” you ask after breaking the kiss, you look down at the water where he’s hard underneath. 

“Since you went into that downward dog position,” he shakes his head in mock anger. “Where’d you learn those poses?”

“Ashton,” you giggle as he moves around the pool.

“You better not have been in this when he showed you,” he grunts pushing you against the pool wall. 

“‘Course not,” you trace his collar bone with your finger. “Want to get out so I can help finish you off?”

“Or we could stay right here,” he smiles shifting his hand to his trunks. 

You gasp when he slides inside you and his mouth attaches to your neck. You’re thankful for pool days like this.

• • • •

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#calum hood oneshot #calum hood smut #calum smut #calum 5sos smut #calum 5sos #calum writing #calum 5sos writing #5sos smut #5sos writing

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap) - Part 12

Summary: Sam inherits Steve Roger's crime empire after a handful of his men betray and kill him. The rest of the crime world, sensing an opening, go after Sam and the territories he's inherited from Steve. Thankfully, Steve left him a number, someone to call if he ever needs help. Someone, Steve claimed, he can trust. But can Sam really trust a mercenary with that much blood on his name? And that many knives in his pockets.

WARNINGS: (there will eventually be all of these things) blood, violence, murder, shooting, stabbing, sex, blood play , food related things: malnutrition, feeding, blow jobs, bathing/washing, chronic pain. Limb loss and regrowth.

18+ Content: Make Good Choices Kids <3

Ao3

"Awful lotta people in there." Wade says as he pushes himself onto his toes again to look through the window.

"Yeah." Bucky says, not bothering to look.

"I mean I know I've been gone awhile but I do not remember there being that many "familes" in this city." Wade says, dropping back down next to Bucky, his fingers jumping around the air quotes.

"There's not." Bucky said, his voice even.

"So you mean to tell me, that all these fucking criminals, and thieves, and neirdowells. They all got together... and lied?" He says, looking at Bucky, and he can hear him smirking under his mask.

"I know. It's shameful." Bucky says, shaking his head.

"It truely is. This town is really going to the dogs." Wade said, checking the chamber of the gun in his hand.

"You saw the cameras right?" Wade asks, serious now.

"I saw 'em." Bucky nods.

"We got a serious voyeur on our hands." Wade says, pulling another gun from its holster and checking it as well.

"They're Sam's." Bucky says, moving his eyes slowly to Wade's face. He pauses and looks over his gun at Bucky.

"Sam's." He says,

"How do you know that?" He asks.

"Cuz I watched Helen put them up last night." Bucky said, checking his own gun, and patting his pockets, making sure his clips were still there.

"Ooh shit. Your boyfriend doesn't trust us." Wade says, shoving his guns back into place. Bucky snorts.

"He doesn't trust anyone right now." Bucky mumbles, leaving out the fact that he agrees, Sam shouldn't trust anyone at the moment. He takes a deep breath and pushes himself to his feet, facing Wade as he does the same.

"Probably a good call. We are notably untrustworthy." Wade says, a wiggle of his eyebrows making Bucky incline his head in agreement.

"So we're just gonna kill everybody right?" Wade asks as he follows Bucky to the giant sliding door on the side of the warehouse.

"Yeah. Yeah that was pretty much the plan, yeah." Bucky says, resting his back against the bricks of the warehouse.

"Just checkin, since there's, ya know, like... fifteen people in there. Fifteen, highly armed, people. And we were expecting like... what, five maybe?" Wade says, Bucky turns to look at him.

"You were only expecting five fucking people to show up?" Bucky asks, incredulous.

"I was trying to be optimistic!" He whispers loudly. Bucky rolls his eyes and turns back to the door, his hand resting on the butt of his gun.

"Five people." He mutters, shaking his head.

"Well I don't know!" Wade almost yells, both of them wincing at the noise, their shoulders bunching as they both crouched back down.

"Who's there?" A voice calls from inside. Bucky sighs, turing to glare at Wade.

"I am... so sorry." He sighs, the eyes on his mask going wide. Bucky sighed and stood up, squaring his shoulders, he moved his eyes back to the door, the low light in the warehouse illuminating a small sliver on the ground.

"Showtime." Bucky says, and it sounds like a sigh to his own ears, but his fingers are itching. Wade nods and follows him as he walks into the light of the warehouse.

Bucky keeps his eyes on the group in front of him as Wade slides the door shut and locks it. There are fifteen plus guns trained on them, and very limited places to hide from gunfire. A few high stacked pallets here and there. They could probably make it behind one if they had too. Bucky let his eyes scan over the muzzles in front of him and blinked slowly.

"Evening gentlemen." He says, keeping his hands still at his sides, not wanting to give them any reason to shoot him. He was used to be shot. But it still fucking hurt.

"What the fuck is this?" The man at the front asked, Bucky thought he looked familiar but he couldn't place which family he worked for, and truth be told, in a few minutes, it wouldn't really matter. Bucky took a step, slowly, to his right, he felt Wade move a step left, and heard the guns in front of them click.

"Well," Bucky started, going so far as to raise his hands, his fingers twitching with need.

"It would seem that your heads of house have been... misguided." He said, he took another step, Wade mirrored him, staying blessedly silent.

"Misguided huh? I think they got just what they wanted." Leader of the pack said, his stupid fucking buzzcut irking Bucky as he spoke. Bucky's head twitched, ever so slightly.

"Did they?" He asked, sarcasm lacing his voice and he moved his foot slowly.

"Cuz it seems to me, that they're right back where they started." Bucky said, turning his hands a little, shrugging at Haircut as the man frowned at him.

"Back where they started? You think that goody two shoes idiot can take over what Steve left? He ain't doin a very good job is he? We got half the old businesses running scared. And the rest of 'em will be ours soon enough." Haircut said smiling as laughter echoed through the group of men staring them down. Bucky nodded, taking another step.

"Maybe. But you are kind of... overlooking, something pretty important. Aren't you?" Bucky asks, his left foot sliding behind his right as he moved further, the men standing behind Haircut were now split almost down the middle, half pointing guns at Bucky, half pointing guns at Wade.

"And what the fuck would that be?" Haircut asked. Cocking the shot gun he was holding. Bucky licked his lips.

"You think a goody two shoes would send us after you? You think we're just here to talk?" Bucky asked, scoffing, he couldn't help himself. He saw a few of the men behind Haircut swallow hard, their hands beginning to shake.

"You think we just locked the door to have some privacy?" Bucky asked.

"It is nice to have privacy for what comes next. To be fair." Wade said, breaking his odd silence finally. Bucky nodded, his eyes not leaving the man with the shotgun.

"What comes next? There's two of you." The man scoffed, the laughter that echoed through the men behind him was now shaky, at best. Bucky smiled, letting his foot slide further across the floor.

"Yeah." He glanced at Wade, saw him smirk.

"It hardly seems fair." Bucky finished, grabbing the knife out of his belt quickly. He threw it, hard, sending it spinning toward the group. The man pulled the trigger as Bucky and Wade dove for cover behind the spaced out pallets. Bucky crashed to the ground and kicked himself backwards til his shoulders slammed into whatever was on the palette nearest. The air was full of gunfire. His shoulder was throbbing. He grimaced and looked down, his arm was bleeding. He sighed, dropped his head back once, hard, and then took a deep breath.

"You good Wade?" He called over the noise.

"All good! You?" Came Wade's answer. Bucky looked at the blood trickling down his arm and sighed.

"I'm good." He said, his voice dropping as the gunfire quieted.

"It seem fair now? Huh, you little shit!?" Haircut called, firing a few more shots at Bucky's hiding spot.

"Depends." Bucky says, adjusting himself to a crouch.

"My knife hit that idiot with the bright yellow jacket?" Bucky asks, pulling his gun out, checking the chamber again, force of habit. There's a long pause before Haircut answers.

"Yeah. He's dead." Bucky smirked, cracked his neck, and pressed his finger agaisnt the trigger.

"Then yeah, I'm good with it." Bucky says, shrugging though he knows they can't see him. He hears them muttering, peeks over the top of the stacked pallet and sees them all huddled together, all of them looking over their shoulders off an on, looking like junkies on the corner waiting for a fix.

"Wade." Bucky calls, smiling when the murmurs cease.

"Yes darling?" Wade calls back.

"After you!" Bucky says, he hears Wade laugh and then the air explodes.

It all blurs together. The noise, the bullets, the knives, and the blood. Wade and Bucky move through them like a well oiled machine. Their backs pressed together for a moment as Bucky rolls over him, shoving his gun under some guys chin and firing before rolling to the side. He shoves a knife through someone's knee, wrapping his arm around their neck as they fall and yanking, their neck snapping. He has his hand on someone else's throat before the body hits the ground. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" He hears Wade yell, fires his gun into a man's chest twice and turns to look. Wade is pointing to some guy, standing off to the side.

"He's got a fucking machete!" Wade yells, looking to Bucky.

"Who the FUCK brings a machete to a gun fight?!" Wade asks, firing both his guns into the men groaning at his feet.

"You bring swords to gun fights all the fucking time!" Bucky yells, grabbing a gun that's shoved in his face and twisting, turning the man's arm back on himself and firing his own gun into his stomach three times.

"Okay first of all! That is not the same!!" Wade yells back, sounding offended, Bucky laughs and ducks an empty gun that's thrown at his head. He locks eyes with the guy who threw it, cracking his neck and smiling as the man screams when he walks toward him.

"It's almost exactly the same thing!?" Bucky shouts, grabbing the screaming man's shirt and slamming his metal fist into his face three or four times until he goes limp. He hears Wade gasp and glances back, he's fighting the man with the machete now, using his empty gun to deflect the blows.

"It is completely different and you know it!" He yells, now throwing his empty gun at the man in front of him before stumbling back a few steps. Bucky turns, about to try and get to Wade, when he's grabbed from behind. He spins easily out of the man's grasp, grabbing the hand at his neck and snapping it backwards. He grabs a knife from his boot and shoves it into the man's throat, his scream turning to gurgling as he choked on his own blood.

"OOOW! YOU MOTHER FUCKER!" Wade's pained voice turns Bucky's head again, he sees Wade on his knees, the man with the machete standing over him, Wade's right arm is laying on the ground next to him. Bucky's arm shoots out from his side, grabbing the man trying to rush him as he's distracted, he glares at him before looking back to Wade, digging in his jacket for another knife as the man struggles in his grasp.

"Hey Wade!" Bucky calls, smiling as he watches Wade junk punch the guy in front him and grab the machete as he drops it. Wade rounds on him, the eyes on his mask looking wild.

"Don't you fucking say it!" He screams, pointing the machete at Bucky. Bucky flips the knife in his hand, holding it by the blade now before drawing it back over his shoulder.

"Need a hand?" He calls, throwing the knife with ease, wiggling his eyebrows at Wade as it embeds itself in machete guys head. Wade does, what is effectively a quadruple take, before stopping on Bucky.

"You absolute fucking peice of shit!" He says, his voice nearly cracking. Bucky watches him spin, bringing the machete he's now holding down into the shoulder of some guy behind him. Bucky smiles, presses his fingers into the struggling man's throat until he stops moving, and drops him.

They clear the warehouse quickly. A few moans here and there as they walk over the bodies left in their wake. Bucky fires one shot into anyone moving or making noise. Wade is carrying his own arm by his side, looking put out. Bucky hears stumbling foot steps to his left. He grabs a gun off the floor, points and pulls the trigger twice without looking, dropping the gun when he hears the body crumple to the floor.

"Jesus." He hears Wade breathe. Bucky stands, wiping the knives he'd retrieved on his pants, and looks at Wade, his eyes wide.

"What?" He asks. Wade stares at him.

"What?" He asks again, louder.

"You have no right looking that fucking innocent after what just happened here. You just shot a dude without even looking, hot, by the way, that one's now permanently in the spank bank, so thanks for that." Wade rambled.

"And then, you're standing there, pulling knives outta dudes, wiping blood on your pants, gunshot wound to the arm, and you look at me with these wide innocent eyes. It's ridiculous!!" Wade said, waving his arm around like it's a prop and not his own severed arm. Bucky furrows his brow and looks down at himself, his hands are covered in blood, the shoulder of his jacket is torn from the shot gun fire he'd taken. He looks back to Wade.

"I'm...sorry?" He asks, not sure if it's really a question.

"It's fine." Wade huffs, and Bucky knows if both his arms were where they should be, he'd have his hands on his hips. Bucky rolls his eyes and spots another knife. He moves forward, boots slipping a little on the blood covered floor. Now this, he thinks to himself as he wraps his wet fingers around the hilt of the knife and removes it from the dead man's neck, is a bloodbath. He wipes the knife on his pants and stows it away.

"Did he want us to like... take anything?" Wade asks, toeing at the body he's standing next to before looking down at his armless shoulder with a sigh.

"Naw. Just wanted 'em dead. And for us to leave this." Bucky said, shaking his head and giving the bodies another once over before reaching into his jacket. He pulls out a blood red envelope and looks around at the bodies, a little sound coming out of him when he finds what he wants. He walks over to Haircuts body, turns him over, and places the corner of the envelope into the mans mouth. Bucky steps back, looking at the morbid obelisk now standing in the center of the room full of blood and bullets. He sighs and looks down at his feet, the blood spattered yellow jacket catching his attention. He shoves his boot under the body and flips it, easily.

"Oooh! There you are." He says, bending down and yanking the knife out of Yellow Jacket's chest with a sickening squelch. Strictly speaking, he didn't need to take the knives, he could leave them. But he loved his knives, a lot, Wade would say too much, but then Wade was notoriously jealous, he'd told Bucky that himself. When he was sure he'd gotten them all he moved toward Wade, patting his shoulder as he sighed again.

"What's in it?" Wade asks, nodding to the envelope.

"No idea. Didn't seem like a good idea to open it." Bucky said, shrugging.

"Well aren't you well behaved." Wade teased, bumping his shoulder into Bucky and immediately groaning at the pain.

"Only when I'm in a good mood." Bucky said, giving Wade an unsettling toothy grin, Wade snorted and turned toward the door.

"Oh. One more thing. Gun." He said, holding his hand out and wiggling his fingers. Wade pulled his gun from the holster and sat it gently in Bucky's hand.

"Oh great. You're gonna shoot me now aren't you? Gonna put me down like a dog. It'll grow back I promise! I can still be useful!!" Wade begged, pawing at Bucky's shoulder. Bucky snorted and shoved him away, the blood on his hand feeling sticky against Wade's shoulder.

"Not you. Them." He said, motioning the gun toward the cameras lining the walls.

"Ooooh okay yeah no that makes more sense." Wade nodded.

"Yeah. Besides. If I shoot you, I have to carry you back, and you're not exactly light weight. Even without the arm." Bucky says turning away from him to hide a smile as Wade gasps behind him.

"That was so mean." He says, voice small.

"I think you'll get over it. Now," he paused, turning back to Wade.

"Take a bow." He says, smiling brightly. Wade looks at him for a moment and then Bucky sees the lightbulb go off. Bucky moves to stand next to him, clicking his heels together as he stops, raising his arms, and the gun in his hand, above his head. His shoulder throbbing as it moves.

"Thank you for watching gentlemen, and ladies, and others." Wade said, his voice full of drama, sounding like a ringleader at a circus.

"We hope you enjoyed the show!" Bucky said, bowing in synch with Wade, both of them dropping their heads low before moving smoothly back up. Bucky smiled, pointing the gun at the nearest camera, he winked and pulled the trigger.

#sambucky #sambucky au #winter falcon #sambucky fic #winter falcon fic #Dirty Deeds #DD part 12 #DD(DDC) #sambucky mob au #my writing #mob boss sam wilson #mercenary bucky

[sloppy-butcher]

I will sacrifice my first born for a part 2 of dare you with joey

well anon, hand it over. give me the baby

edit// this thing is long like godDAMN i need to relax. hope yall enjoy it :)

Part 1: Dare You - Joey x Reader crackfic

Double-Dare You

The Legion (Joey) x Survivor!Reader

The pallet dropped against the concrete wall with a loud whack followed by a disgruntled shout. Joey reeled backward, his head aching from the collision with the wooden object. At the moment of successful contact, you spun around to the killer and passed him the biggest shit-eating grin you could conjure. Joey catches your elation and decides to ignore the pain to instead focus on you. 

“Y’know, I’m still waiting for an answer,” Joey said, his tone casual as if this were a conversation taking place between equals in a normal situation. You rolled your eyes amazed by how stubborn and oblivious the man appeared to be - he would not drop the topic for anything, not even as he chased you with a hunter’s knife poised. “When are you going to take me on that date you promised?” This earned a chuckle from you, fully swinging round to face the masked man with your arms crossed over your chest.

“You’re joking, right?” He tilted his head feigning ignorance. Your smile stretches to an impossible brightness, how exactly this killer always made you feel so giddy and playful was beyond your simple understanding. Perhaps it was because you had never experienced a killer who was so talkative and lively, this being such a unique situation that against your better judgment you decided to humor it and actively encouraged his behavior. It was fun. “And where,” You shake your hands in the air, “would I take you on this hypothetical date?” Joey hummed, standing straight with his knife tapping under his chin in a contemplative manner.

“That should be for you to decide really. Though we could always go check out some cool places. These realms,” he gestures to the weepy forest around you both, “are ten times cooler when they are empty.” You raise a curious eyebrow, demanding an explanation without uttering a word. He sighs and lifts his foot to kick the pallet. “I mean, that cowboy saloon place is pretty awesome on its own. All old-western and shit. But it would be even cooler if it was just us two.” At the sound of the wood splintering, your instinctive reaction was to flee to another pallet leaving the man's comment to fall of deaf ears. Joey followed but stayed far enough behind to not have his skull caved in with another hit. You bring the new pallet down between you two and once again spin around to the killer.

“Tell me again why exactly I have to take you on a date? I don’t remember doing anything wrong.” You spit at him, venom dripping from every syllable of your inherently rhetorical question. Joey smirked under his mask - oh you were a feisty one alright. Cocky and proud even when kneeling at the feet of a predator. Rather than kicking the pallet, Joey let it sit between you two, making it an honorary truce-table. You would not run if he did not chase. And he only wanted to talk. 

“Because you harassed me. Remember?” You shake your head in a mischievous ‘no’ earning another grin from the enthralled boy. God, you were good. Doing absolutely nothing at all but dragging him in all the same. “You smacked my ass,” Joey deadpans, “And you never made up for it.” 

You smile at the reminder of your triumph from a few trials previous. Though you were scared pant-less at the time, looking back now only filled you with the taste of sweet victory. You would not let anyone convince you to do anything like that again, not even Meg with all her stupid, little games even if it did somehow end up with the outcome of befriending a killer. 

“I don’t see why I have to pay anything for that little smack,” You toss your head and throw him a coy eye. You practically see the man shake from restrained laughter and knew that you had him wrapped around your little finger. You could easily manipulate him just as he could easily kill you. You shudder at the glimmer of the knife in his hand but decide to focus on the conversation rather than his purpose being there. “It was a harmless little thing.” You pull your hand up to your mouth to nonchalantly hide your growing grin.

“It was twice.” Joey retorts matter-of-factly. He watches as you release your tense posture, throwing a hand on your hip and rolling your eyes. 

“Oh please, that is nothing really. Besides,” Your gaze falls down to his knife again and you feverishly swallow your mounting fear. “You have done far worse things to me.” At your words and pointed implication, Joey’s confidence plummets to the ocean floor. Of course, you would never trust him willingly, not after all he has done. And though he knew full well that he could just take you if he truly wanted to, Joey denied his animalistic urge in favor of keeping the peace. He wanted to keep your fire - preserve that genuine playfulness that he oh so enjoyed lest he shatters it by forcibly caging you. 

“I know you have no reason to trust me,” Joey’s voice has lost all semblance of the peppy court-fool it was just moments before, catching you off-guard in its sudden change. He lowers his hand that holds his weapon, moving it behind his back so that it was out of your view.  His head drops, the ebony eyes peeking out from underneath his mask glistening with unmistakable remorse. “But, when I say that I don’t want to hurt you. Please know that I mean it.” You wanted to scoff, to call his bluff and his terrible acting skills but something about his tone made you hold back your comments. There was a pure genuineness in his voice that flickered a light of hesitation in your head. Maybe it was your nativity or that stupid part of your brain that always wanted to see the good in people, but you believed him. You believed that he did not want to hurt you. At least not now. 

“What about my friends?” You ask through your dawning affinity, guarding your words with the last ounces of your resistance to him. He was pulling you into him, dragging you down into those deep-as-night eyes. 

“I will let them all go. But only today. Next time I…” Joey turns his head away from you, embarrassed and partly ashamed that he could not even offer you a solid answer. “There are things you don't know. I can only spare you sometimes before It gets angry.” He sighs and his shoulders deflate, making him look pitiful and small. You frown and feel yourself unconsciously step towards him, reaching out to try to comfort the killer. “Please believe me.” 

“I do. I do believe you.” You spoke without thinking, stepping closer to the pallet, and to him. He instantly raises his head at your words and approach, surprised by your forwardness but nonetheless delighted. “For some reason, I do believe you. But I can’t…” You pause, shaking your head free from the intrusive thoughts daring to bubble over, “I can’t be alone with you. Not yet.” Joey understood that completely and a little too eagerly, nodded his head in agreement. 

It wasn’t much but it was a start. And he was beyond happy to be given this opportunity.

“For now, I suppose.” You cringe inwardly as the idea formed in your head and moved into words. “I suppose you can smack my butt if it will even the odds.” Joey nearly fell over at your suggestion. He bit back a laugh and had to spin around so that he could compose himself. You watch as he doubles-over, clutching his stomach while emitting sounds of stifled giggling. After a few minutes, he straightens and faces you again, his expression and tone stone-like. 

“Yes. I think that would suffice.” He narrows his eyes cunningly, “For now.” With your mouth agape in shock, you scoff and throw your arms up.

“Dude! I was joking! I didn’t think you’d actually agree to it?!” You feel your face begin to heat up. The man tilts his head ever-so-slightly and you could physically see his enjoyment growing at the expense of your humility. From the way he was standing so assured in his next decisions, you had the dawning realization that there was no way to talk him out of it now. Sucking back your pride you bite your lip and glare daggers at the man.

“Fine. Just,” You twist your body around, presenting your ass to him. How embarrassing. How humiliating! Every inch of you burned from excruciating pain, birthed from the pure absurdity of the situation as it finally rested upon your shoulders. “Just make it quick!” You practically shout over your shoulder, your face now a burning furnace you were sure was bright enough to light up the night. Joey was overwhelmed by your willingness to oblige and for a second, contemplated if this was even real. Just minutes before he was chasing you, begging you to so much as to stop and talk to him, give him just one single chance to try to reach out. And now, in the most brilliant and wonderful course of events, you had offered yourself to him! His fingers itched, his heart pumped louder than gunshots. 

“Close your eyes.” Joey reactively says without planning or action. He only realizes his command when he notices your confused expression. “Please, trust me.” Your face flickers, shifting between utter bewilderment and denial. Then something clicks and you agree, closing your eyes and squeezing them shut. Joey goes to break the pallet, its job as instigator between debating parties no longer necessary. You flinch at the sound and fight the inherent urge to run from it and the monster behind the noise. Suddenly you feel him closer, the brushing of fabric against your bare arm lets you know that he was standing right beside you.

Ordinarily, killers breathed obnoxiously, panting loud and hard like hungry wild boars with their teeth bared and frothing saliva dripping from their bleeding lips. But as the man neared you, coming closer than you had previously ever allowed him to, he was quiet and gentle as a bee. Buzzing around slow and tentative, asking for you, a sweet flower, to open up and let him rest. He held back that part of him that had scarred you so many times before, confining the violent boar in favor of being human - if only for a moment.

Joey’s heart threatened to pump straight out of his chest, the hammering so boisterous in his ears that all he heard was thumping and all he saw was you. Your lip twitches, your eyes furrowed shut tense as his shadow covers your face. He slowly lifts up the bottom of his fabric mask, careful about his movements so as not to alert you. You were so much like a rabbit, frightened and easily spooked - he could not risk losing you now that he was so close. So close - close enough to…

In the blind obliviousness, you grow impatient, wondering why he had not already taken his chance you return his ass smack tenfold. But as you went to open your mouth to curse his slowness, a pair of lips land ever-so precariously on yours. Light as the cool breeze of a winter’s morning, so soft that you doubted they were even there. It was only when you pushed up into them did you realize their fullness. The man was kissing you - if you could call this weak excuse of a peck a kiss. He was scared to force himself on you, scared to chase you away if he let loose his full eagerness to consume you, and in doing so barely even allowed himself to touch you. You appreciated his controlled reluctance and as your boldness grew, so did your pressure into the embrace. You deepen the kiss and you feel the man shudder.

After a few seconds, the man pulls away gasping, his hot breath cascading across your flushed cheek. You stand there a moment longer with your eyes closed, unsure of what to do after this peculiar sequence of events. You feel the man move his lips once more to your tender face and place one last kiss on the corner of your mouth. 

“The name’s Joey by the way.” He whispers into your skin, his voice a creamy, dark mess. The power you had over him, even in something as simple as a shy kiss, was immeasurable. Joey knew he couldn’t be around you for much longer lest he does something regrettable so begrudgingly he lowered his mask and stepped back. He looked you over one last time before sprinting off into the foggy abscess in that unnatural speed of his. You watch the whiteness consume his form and scream after him, 

“That was not part of the deal!” But Joey was long gone before the first word had even left your mouth. Suddenly you couldn’t wait for that date.

#another joey crackfic #im waiting for the baby anon #lowkey really had fun writing this #dbd imagine #dbd x reader #dbd the legion #dbd the legion xreader #dbd the legion joey #dbd the legion joey x reader #dbd joey x reader

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

Unspoken: Chapter One - Oikawa Tooru x f!reader

Oikawa has been in love with you since you became a manager for the university’s volleyball team, but keeps it to himself in fear of what his fan club might do to you if they found out

genre(s): college!au, mutual pining (mostly Oikawa), friends to lovers, angst, eventual smut  words: 3k+

a/n: don’t worry folks, i just got carried away with this fic and felt it would be better to split it up. chapter 2 is complete and will be up tomorrow 💖 with a bonus smut ending if you are a heathen like me. enjoy ~ J ✨ i am also sorry i made the fan club so bitchy

taglist: @takingyouruwus @kurosarium @apollochjld @afterglowkuroo  (lmk if you’d like to be added to my general or a specific taglist!)

Chapter 2 

The Oikawa fan club is definitely not a fan of you, and you certainly aren’t of them. Not because you have a crush on him too but because they’re obnoxious and take the best seats at volleyball games. It also doesn’t help that they outright despise you. They don’t even try to hide it. Snickering in the hallways at school or passing quick remarks whispered amongst them at games. You really aren’t a fan of that. You don’t care, you don’t care, you don’t care—you chant to yourself to keep your tongue locked behind your teeth. It isn’t worth your time or the effort.

Not until you hear one of them hiss today at the game, “What is she even doing up here? I thought she’s the manager,” a scoff. “Guess the team likes Miko better.”

Your fists ball instinctively. You can’t sit down there, as much as you’d like to. If they knew anything deeper about volleyball beyond Oikawa’s killer serve and being obsessed with his ‘pretty hair’ they’d know that you might be a manager but there is a senior manager who outranks you and only one is allowed on the bench down on the court.  

Though you have to admit, sitting up here in the bleachers with the Oikawa ogling brigade in front of you—the manager—fawning over his every move is degrading. You don’t necessarily have to sit directly behind them, but god dammit you want to see the game too and are willing to grin and bear it for the sake of the team. You can’t sit in the normal cheering section crowded with students either since you arrive late and would have to sit at the back of the stands. So, this is the better of two options, even if today the fan club is being particularly petty.

“Or maybe she’s just a wannabe,” another snickers, loud enough that you know she is intending you to hear it.

That pushes you over the edge, making you abruptly stand up. You’re wearing a university volleyball club jacket for fucks sake! Are they really so shallow as to start slinging rumors like that around? They jolt at your sudden movement, glaring back at you, clearly with no intention of apologizing. They so obviously just want you to leave.

You want to watch the game, support the boys you watch work so hard and work hard for yourself, but you don’t want to be around for this bullshit. You know shouldn’t care, but you do, and it fucking ruins the game for you.

Instead of giving them some mean remark like you’re itching to throw at them, you just turn on a heel and go. You stride up the steps and towards the exit right as you hear the crowd gear up for Oikawa’s serve. You stop once you reach the doorway, fists clenched and trembling with anger, furious at yourself for letting them get under your skin. Exactly like they wanted to. You should have stayed as a silent ‘fuck you’ to them, but you can’t stomach going back either. Not like they even care anyways, probably too wrapped up in Oikawa’s serve. Now a sigh escapes you; forcing your hands to unfurl and stretch the ache that formed from how tightly you had them clenched.

You need to take a breath and move on. You have nothing to prove to them, all the matters is that you know where you stand. It also makes you feel better that the team actually knows you, they can pretend it isn’t true all they want but that doesn’t change that you get to spend time with the team, and inevitably, Oikawa. A fact they loathe.

You end up lingering in the hallway near the entrance to the gym, waiting for the game to finish. Usually you can be a part of the between game meetings if you want to, sometimes you can’t get down there fast enough but sitting here in the hallway, you’ll make it today. While you wait, you slide down the wall to sit, leaning against it and pulling your legs close to rest your chin on.

You like to think that you have tough skin and their words can’t hurt you, but they do. And while you may not put the same about of blood, sweat, and tears the boys do into the sport—you put in your fair share for them, and it’s hard to be met with scoffs and sideways glances purely because of jealousy. You’re appreciated enough by those who matter, so why are you so bothered by the fan club?  Shaking your head at the fleeting thought that it has anything to do with Oikawa, you convince yourself it’s just annoyance that you can’t enjoy games like you’d like to.

Interrupting your thoughts, the whistle blows to signal the end of the game and you perk your head up. You’re grateful for the distraction, not really wanting to delve deeper into your thoughts about Oikawa, and peek into the gym. Miko notices your head in the doorway and waves you in to join the huddle.

Ha, take that fan club. Wannabe my ass.

Miko’s movement catches Oikawa’s attention. He looks to where her attention is drawn and watches you beam before throwing the door wide and joining the huddle by Miko’s side. He wonders what you were doing waiting by the door, normally you wait until the last possible moment before bolting from your seat in the bleachers to join the huddle. You never want to miss a single second of the game, which he finds rather endearing. And he can’t remember the last time you skipped out on a game early.

He stares at you, trying to get your attention, but you’re fixated on the coach, no doubt trying to soak up as much information as possible. It makes his mouth curve ever so slightly at how eagerly you listen during these huddles. When you do briefly slide your gaze over to him, he gives you a questioning look to which you just shake your head at and point discretely at the coach.

Ah. Your way of saying, ‘shut up and listen’.

He supposes he likes that about you. Your bluntness.

So, with an eyeroll, he fixes his eyes on the coach, fully intending on pestering you later about it. He tries to grab you before the next game, but you hurry away as soon as the whistle is blown, and his fingers grasp empty air.

The team wins the next set, winning the match without going to the 3rd set. As customary, he lines up with the team to thank the spectators and Oikawa gets the chance to pick you out in the crowd. He spots you off to the side, and he’s noted since meeting you that you don’t sit with the cheering crowd, but rather on your own. It’s never too hard to find you, your face split in two by a smile as you clap for them. It’s then that he notices who is sitting directly in front of you.

He fights the urge to frown. He likes to think he’s a polite guy, having always given attention to his so called ‘fan club’. He got used to it in high school, the constant barrage of placating a group of fans, but had been secretly looking forward to hopefully leaving it behind. Only to have a new one re-emerge within the first few months of school. The other guys on the team weren’t too keen about him for a while after that. It took him forever to convince them to tolerate him again.

And he hates that they give you trouble. Ever since they discovered you interact with him outside of school, it seems they deemed you an enemy. He tries to stay away from you during regular school hours, keeping it limited to volleyball only, but lately the two have started bleeding together. He simply can’t help himself, however selfish that may be. Gathering his things, he wonders if they’re the cause for your weird behavior earlier.

He glances at you helping Miko put away the chairs, a tight feeling constricting his chest. God—if he ever told you how he actually feels about you, what would his fan club do then? How miserable would they make you? But damn him to hell, he’s selfish, and it doesn’t stop him from striding over to you cooing your name.

Without hesitation you reply, “Oikawa-san~,” in the same sing-song voice he uses for you. You don’t even bother to look over your shoulder at him, continuing your task.

“What was with the little peeping tom imitation earlier?”

You’re glad to be facing away from him, your skin prickling with the thought of having to explain to him that his fan club was pissing you off. Surely earning yourself a more prying follow-up question that you definitely do not want to answer. So instead you shrug, brushing off his question, “You guys were so far ahead, and I was sure your serves would end it, so I figured I’d actually be a part of the entire huddle.”

He squints, finding that to be rather out of character for you. “You missed my serves though!” He pouts, deciding it’s better for him to let you off the hook than continue to pry. He doesn’t think you’d tell him anyways, no matter how much he pesters you.

“Oh, big baby. I missed what? Two?”

“What if they were my best yet!” He protests, leaning around you so you can see his impressive pout. It delights him that he elicits a smile from you, peering at him from the corner of your eye, clearly finding his antics amusing. “Guess you’ll have to help me with serving practice to make up for it.”

You stick your tongue out at him, which he hates to admit he watches very closely as you answer, “Fine.” Though, truthfully, he’s not really pulling your leg too much. You like helping him practice.

He can’t help how his mouth turns downward into a frown as another member of the team, a bold freshman, butts into the conversation. “Need any help?”

Though he does find immense delight at the way your face falls to a neutral expression, giving him a curt, “I’m alright, thank you.” You don’t even turn to him, instead tilting your head to look at Oikawa continuing, “Oikawa-san is more than enough help here. Why don’t you see if they need help putting away the net?”

The freshman slinks away and Oikawa has to physically restrain himself from doing a victory lap as you shove a chair into his hands grumbling to yourself. The muttering continues as you move to put away more chairs, loud enough that he catches you say, “Is he ever going to get the hint?”

“What?”

You almost drop the chair you’re holding, turning wide-eyed at Oikawa, not realizing you’d been talking out loud to yourself. “It’s nothing.”

He frowns. “Is he bothering you?”

God he’s talking so loudly, making you nervous that the underclassman might hear him. “Can you talk any louder?” You hiss. Oikawa’s expression doesn’t change, however, and you groan really not wanting to get into this right now. “He’s been at it for a couple weeks now,” you say, trying to play off the situation as best you can. You’ve never had someone as persistent in pursuing you as he is, or someone as oblivious to your subtle rejections either.

You vaguely wonder if this is how Oikawa feels all the time with his fan club.

“Wanna pretend to date for a while?” He suggests harmlessly in your opinion, but very selfishly in his. And while he knows he isn’t joking in the slightest—you certainly think he is and bark out a laugh at the idea of fake dating him to get the underclassman off your back. “What?” He pouts. “Is it so crazy of an idea?”

You’re laughing even harder now, enough that people are beginning to look your way, so you swallow you remaining laughter and wipe your eyes dramatically. “It just don’t want to be murdered in the dead of night by your fan club, that’s all.”

You go back to collapsing chairs and don’t notice Oikawa stiffen. He doesn’t like being reminded that his fan club will literally rip apart any girl he is even remotely interested in. And he isn’t just interested in you. He likes you. A lot.

Clearly not thinking anything of this conversation, you say over your shoulder, “What are all those muscles for if you’re not going to carry more chairs than me?” He blinks back to reality and makes a show of picking up way more chairs than you and putting them away faster too. That only earns him a scowl in response, but he knows it’s only for show.

~

“Oh, pleeeeeease?” Oikawa almost gets on his knees begging you. Practice is done but he wants to stay late and hammer in more serves before the night is over. And sue him if he thinks it’s way more enjoyable if you stay to help him. “You promised last week!” You groan, scrunching your eyes tight, not wanting to look at his stupidly adorable pouting face that usually breaks you. It doesn’t help that you can feel he is standing very close to you. “You’re going to have to open your eyes sometime.”

“Nope, I’ll walk all the way home like this.”

He pleads your name again. “You’re going to miss the rare sight of Oikawa Tooru on his knees for you!”

You don’t budge. “Nice try.”

“I’m serious!” Now he really does get on his knees, dramatically putting his hands together to beg you. “This is a once in a lifetime chance!”

He keeps it to himself that you could definitely get him on his knees for many different reasons.

He’s sure that he’s broken you when you groan loudly and peek an eye open at him. Upon seeing that he is being serious, both of your eyes widen, and you have the audacity to start giggling at him. “I should take a picture.”

That makes him scramble to his feet, sticking his tongue out at you. “You better not.” It just makes you grin and his heart soars at the sight. He can’t help that your smile makes his stomach do somersaults. He takes you by the arm and drags you further into the gym before jogging over to the other side of the court and grabbing a ball from the cart.

He loves that he doesn’t have to tell you what to do. You’re already digging through your bag to find objects to place around the opposite side of the net for him to aim for. He notices that you’ve placed some of them very meanly—some sitting just barely on the outside line, others in spots that he has a record of having trouble hitting. And while it makes his chest swell with pride you even notice his performance, the scowl across his face betrays his annoyance that you aren’t making this easy.

If you’re going to help him—he’s going to have to work for it.

And hell, if that doesn’t drive him wild.

“Those good?” You ask, stepping off to the side, a smug smirk splayed across your lips.

You know exactly what you’re doing.

He levels a look at you that you return with a sickeningly sweet yet utterly terrifying smile. “You’re going to have to do better than that, I’m afraid.”

Your smile transforms into something that makes his stupid fucking shorts tighten, holding his gaze steadily as you challenge, “We’ll see.” Then you tear your eyes from his and he feels like you’ve ripped his chest out with it and like he can barely get enough air into his lungs. He knows the challenge is to drive him to do better, to perform the best of his ability, but damn—he’ll give 110% for the rest of his life if you ask him to.

You will never admit how much you love watching Oikawa play volleyball. Watching him shift from his teasing, easy-going smile, to this intensely serious and calculating gaze that while foreign to you—is also so strangely familiar. You feel lucky to be able to watch him up close, someone who has honed their craft, yet is ever looking to be better. When it comes down to it, you truly admire Oikawa and want to be there to watch him grow and see where he goes. Because to you, the sky’s the limit for him.

Where the hell are those thoughts coming from?

The sound of a volleyball slamming onto the court, sending the notebook you placed on the line skittering across the floor, startles you. “Hey! Pay attention!” Oikawa scolds. You quickly apologize, knowing full well how much a stray volleyball can hurt. “And make sure you’re watching! I’m going to hit every single one of those first try.”

You nod, a bit blankly, still reeling from the thoughts tumbling through your head. He tosses another ball up, his powerful thighs straining as he thrusts his body upwards, hand meeting the ball at the perfect point—the sound of his hand cracking against it almost as loud as the sound that reverberates around the gym when it connects with the floor. It all happens in the blink of an eye, but you feel like you’re watching it in slow motion until his feet touch the floor and you’re jolted back to reality.

God, what the fuck is going on with you tonight?

Oikawa isn’t blind. He knows you’re watching him. And it sends such a thrill down his spine he doesn’t know what to do with himself besides channel as his energy into his serves. Otherwise he’s going to do something very stupid tonight.

You’re uncannily quiet for the remainder of the night. Just watching him serve over and over again, and when he’s finished, helping him pick up the balls and set up the targets so he can start again. He is desperate to know what’s going through your head, but he lets you stew, just as interested in what conclusion you might be coming to on your own.

It’s not his fault that his imagination runs absolutely fucking wild that night. He can’t sleep, theorizing what changed today—if anything did. What were you thinking about as you watched him so intently? What flipped the switch? Are you thinking about him right now, lying awake in bed like he is? It torments him even in his dreams.

~

He does keep you awake that night. You can’t get the image of him out of your head. His voice either. It’s infuriating. You try to convince yourself he’s just a friend. That all those late nights in the gym, all the times he’s walked you home, all the bus rides you’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder, are harmless. He hasn’t wormed his way into your heart, he hasn’t made you fall in love with him slowly and quietly and its only now hitting you like a tidal wave—has he?

Fuck. Has he?

You’re grateful your roommates’ room is down the hall, giving you the freedom to scream into your pillow.

Are you a fucking Oikawa fan girl now?

You don’t know the difference between you and them is that he’s been in love with you a lot longer than you can even imagine.

#oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru imagine #oikawa tooru scenario #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu #oikawa tooru

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {epilogue}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: Short & Sweet

A/N: Thank you for reading & being so sweet with all the love. xx

also, shoutout to @the-regal-warrior​ for helping me come up with a baby name...i love u.

Even Mila had yet to see her baby brother.

Having a five year old in a hospital wasn’t ideal, so they had Mila stay with Feyre and Rhysand until they brought him home.

As they rode in the car toward their townhouse, the baby slept soundly in the backseat. Elain was completely exhausted, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t wait to introduce him to everyone.

And everyone was waiting, their cards lining the road in front of the townhouse.

Azriel yawned as he pulled into the driveway. “They couldn’t come...I don’t know...next week sometime?”

“I just pushed a baby out of my body,” Elain said, undoing her seatbelt. “If I can do an hour of introducing our son to our family, so can you.”

Azriel chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Fair enough.” 

Elain got out of the car and headed up the drive as Azriel pulled the carseat out of the middle of the back. He was still sleeping.

It was hard being three days old. 

The minute Elain opened the door, she was grinning.

They all stood there. Mor, Amren, Feyre, Cassian, Nesta, and Rhysand, Mila in his arms, beneath a banner that read Welcome baby boy!

Elain cursed her hormones as her eyes lined with tears. 

Azriel came up behind her, yawning, once again.

Elain didn’t know why he was yawning so much.

He didn’t push a baby out of his vagina recently. 

She blamed such thoughts on the hormones. 

Everyone was grinning wildly, but they remained quiet, careful not to startle the newborn.

All but Mila, anyway.

“BROTHER!” she screamed, and Azriel froze in the doorway.

“Shhhh,” Rhysand laughed. “You have to be quiet, remember?”

“Oh,” Mila began, eyes wide, voice a whisper. “Yeah. Sorry. Brother.” 

They all laughed quietly as Azriel came into the entryway and set the car seat onto the wooden floorboards.

There he was, a head full of dark hair and Azriel’s tan complexion. He was still fast asleep, wearing a onesie that read “Mommy’s little studmuffin”. There was a muffin on the butt of the pants. When Elain purchased it, she had cried for an hour.

Damn hormones. 

“Meet Alexander Isaac Asghar.”

The women swooned.

Even Cassian swooned.

Rhysand hid his face behind Mila to keep from tearing up.

They would call him Zander, and his middle name came from Elain’s father, from the sacrifice he had made to ensure that Zander had a father in his life. And his last name was Azriel’s, of course, the same last name that Mila now had.

A name Elain herself would have, soon, too. Azriel had proposed months ago, but they promised to keep the wedding planning at bay until after the baby came.

Now that he was there, though, Elain was itching to get started. White dress. Lilies. An outdoor wedding with white fold out chairs filled with people. Her sisters by her side. Azriel waiting for her at the end of the aisle.

It would happen.

Soon.

Feyre and Nesta were holding Elain in her arms, congratulating her. Cassian was clapping Azriel on the shoulder. Rhysand was still holding Mila, telling her how important it was for her to keep her voice down and be gentle. 

“Just look, don’t touch, just look, don’t touch….” Feyre whispered, as she bent down over the carseat, where baby Alexander was sleeping.

Azriel gave Rhysand a curious glance.

“She has serious baby fever,” Rhysand explained.

Feyre’s eyes snapped to her husband’s. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

Rhysand rolled his eyes as he let Mila onto the ground, at last.

She crawled to the side of the car seat and peeked over the edge. Azriel’s arm went around Elain as they watched the sight. Even Azriel teared up as he watched - and he did not have new mommy hormones. 

Mila smiled as she took Alexander’s tiny little hand. “Hi, little brother.”

When Elain looked up at Azriel, he was already watching her. He kissed her, softly, before wrapping both of his arms around her.

They were both thinking the same thing.

This was their family.

Their little, unorganized, messy, completely perfect family.

~~~~~

Nesta was living with Cassian. She had moved in with him nearly a month before Alexander had been born, so that Azriel and Elain could transform her room into a nursery. She didn’t mind. She completely understood. 

Besides, she liked living with Cassian. 

For many, many different reasons. They had been together for a while, and as obnoxious and cocky as he was, she found he was the ideal roommate. Clean, good in the kitchen, better in the bedroom...he checked off everything on her list. 

“Alexander’s a cute little thing, isn’t he?” Cassian called from the bathroom.

Nesta had just laid back on their bed as she agreed. “He looks so much like Azriel.”

Cassian chuckled. “Yeah, he does.”

“Do you ever want kids?” Nesta asked.

“With you?” Cassian asked. “I like making babies.”

Nesta laughed, quietly. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation, Cass.”

Cassian didn’t reply until a moment later, when he came around the corner of the bedroom and leaned against the door frame. He was ready for bed, hair still damp from his shower, shorts hanging low on his hips.

“Someday,” he answered, at last. “Do you?”

“I used to not,” she answered, honestly, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him. “Now, I don’t know. Maybe.”

Cassian’s eyebrows rose as he meandered toward the bed. “With me?”

“Maybe,” she said, eyes bright. “If you’re lucky.”

“Ah,” he laughed, crawling onto the bed and pushing her back. He hovered over her as he said, “I’ve been lucky so far. I’m not too worried.”

Nesta shook her head and pushed his hair back, out of his face. She reached up to kiss him, softly. “I want to be married first though. For a few years. Enjoy that little bit of freedom in the married life before babies come.”

Cassian pulled back, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait - we’re not married?”

Nesta rolled her eyes and pushed against his chest.

“No, I’m serious,” Cassian said, but he was laughing as she rolled her eyes, again. “I’m pretty sure I’ve asked. I haven’t proposed?”

“If you have, it wasn’t very memorable,” she said, head cocked to the side.

“Hmmmm,” Cassian began, pretending to think long and hard as he propped himself on his elbows, one elbow resting on each side of her head. “No, no, I’m pretty sure I’ve asked. You must be mistaken.”

“You’re so full of shit,” she muttered.

He laughed softly, his body shaking against hers. “Fine. Maybe I’ll have to ask again, then.” 

Nesta’s eyes softened as she asked, “Is that so?”

Cassian nodded, and pressed his mouth against hers.

“When will that be?” Nesta whispered.

Didn’t he know by now that she hated surprises?

Cassian’s eyes were bright as he leaned back. “Oh, when you’re least expecting it.”

Nesta’s mouth formed a tight line.

Oh, he definitely knew.

“Cruel bastard,” she mumbled, but Cassian only laughed. 

Nesta couldn’t stay mad, though. Especially not as his hands wandered up her shirt, as his mouth hungrily found the side of her neck.

The entire time they made love, though, all Nesta could think about was one thing.

Cassian Nazari wanted to marry her.

Maybe that was a surprise she would happily, and patiently, wait for.

But, if he didn’t ask her soon enough, she would fucking as him herself. 

~~~~~

Rhysand awoke to an empty bed the morning after they had welcomed baby Zander home from the hospital.

He leaned up on his side and looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand. 

It was just after 7.

On a Saturday.

“Feyre?” he called, voice raspy.

She didn’t answer.

Sitting up, Rhysand rubbed his eyes. The sun was peeking through the curtains, bright in the early morning light. Just as he was about to pull himself out of bed, Feyre came through the door. She looked absolutely stunning, dressed in one of his hoodies, her long hair messy from sleep. Her hands were shoved into the pocket.

Rhysand fell back against the mattress, smiling softly. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said, but her eyes were bright. She was wide awake.

She sat on the mattress next to him, on her knees.

And she stared at him, smiling.

“Yes?” Rhysand asked, huffing a laugh as he yawned. 

“Close your eyes,” she whispered.

“Ooh, I like this game,” he muttered, eyes fluttering shut.

“Calm down, cowboy,” she laughed. “Alright. Hold out your hand.” 

He did so, and was met a moment later with cool plastic in the palm of his hand. 

Feyre said nothing.

“Can I open my eyes?” Rhysand asked, laughing quietly.

Feyre didn’t answer, but Rhysand opened his eyes anyway, to find her eyes bright and blurry. He looked down at his hand, at the pregnancy test sitting in his palm. He blinked, his thoughts going blank.

It was positive.

“This is a pregnancy test,” he said, at last, because it was the only thing that came out.

Feyre nodded, slowly, clearly taking in his reaction.

“It’s positive,” he said.

Feyre laughed, nodding, once more.

“Which….you….” He finally looked up from the test, up to his wife, who was grinning from ear to ear, eyes lined with tears. “You’re pregnant.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, “Rhys, I’m pregnant.” 

Rhysand blinked, rapidly. “With...a baby?”

“Typically that’s what women become pregnant with,” she laughed, crawling on top of Rhysand, straddling his lap. She took his face into her hands. “We’re having a baby, Rhys.” 

“We’re having a baby,” he repeated, quietly.

Feyre nodded, brushing his cheeks softly with her thumbs.

“We’re having a baby!” he said, dropping the test and taking Feyre into his arms. He threw her down on the bed and hovered over her. Then stilled. “Fuck, sorry, I should be more careful-”

“I’m pregnant, Rhys, not breakable,” she muttered, pulling him down to meet her lips. She kissed him, passionately, running her hands down his bare back.

Rhysand rested his forehead against hers as he breathed, “Fuck.”

“You’re happy?” she whispered.

Rhysand pulled back, eyes wide. “Of course, I am. We made a little person. There’s….fuck, there’s a baby in there.”

He lifted his hoodie up that covered her body.

Feyre rolled her eyes when he purposely exposed her breasts, too. Gently, Rhysand brushed his fingers up her body - over her abdomen, between her breasts, up to her face to cup her cheek.

“I’m so happy,” he breathed.

Feyre couldn’t contain herself any longer. She began to cry soft, happy tears. “Me too.” 

The last year had been an adventure. They had found peace, had healed, had forgiven themselves, had moved on. They spent time with their family, making new memories and welcoming a new tiny member of their crazy little crew into the world. 

And now, at seven on a Saturday morning, they found out they would be welcoming another little member soon, too. 

“I love you,” Feyre breathed.

Rhysand felt an overwhelming sense of peace and joy as he said, “I love you, too.”

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

The end

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty  @starkovsnesta​   @redisriding​  @photofeesh

@mariamuses​   @tswaney17    @amaranthas-whore​   @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr​  @rachaels14 @faequeenaelin​  @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn​

@hashtolanashoba  @poisonous00​  @chemicha @samotita​

@mynewdreamwasyou​ @humming-asong​  

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s​  @sensitiveillyrian​

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass​  @stars-falling​

@ifangirlninja  @sleeping-and-books  @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem​

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq​

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books​ @alwayss-reading​

@amren-courtofdreams  @b00kworm​

@wifeofchrishemsworth​  @booksstorm​

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts​

@humanexile  @over300books​

@booksbooksbooksworld  @starrynightsbooks​

@girl-who-reads-the-books  @mockingjayusa​

@mis-lil-red  @mini-monster-amren

@shhhimreading03​ @brittneym15​

@emilyrose111294​  @queen-of-glass​

@negativenesta​  @keshavomit​

@argentumstella​  @sebxstianbarnes​

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae​

@feyrethedarklady​

@starryandbooks​

@gingerglides​  @candid-confetti​

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit​ @iliketoasterstrudels​

@6255igntm​  @moondancer-204​

@littlehoneyybee​  @acourtofbookworms​

@the-regal-warrior​

@awkward-avocado-s​  @nightcourtcinnamonroll​

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn​ @bamchickawowow​

@julemmaes​  @itsme-malin

@regular-nessian-trash​  @made-of-stardust-and-wanderlust

@ugh-avila​  @awkward-avocado-s​

@superspiritfestival  @the-dark-swan​  @girlgotattitude448​  @eversincebeirut​

@midnightrose-reader​  @lord-douglas-the-third​  @thestarguidingyouhome​

@empress-ofbloodshed​  @starkovsnesta​ @nickjgoodsell​

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#the end #tacmc aita #nessian #feysand #elriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #modern au

[ao3bronte]

Mamma Mia AU [Part 5]

READ PART 4 HERE!

I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do

“Marinette! There you are! I was beginning to worry—oh god, are you okay? Why is there mascara on your cheeks? Are you crying?!”

Juleka is running over to Marinette in a flash, pulling a makeup brush out of god knows where, “I’m fine, really. I just have some...allergies to the garden, that’s all.”

“Bullshit,” Alya crosses her arms over her chest, having been the one to spot Marinette sneaking into the venue in a state of disarray, “What did Adrien say to you?”

“It’s not…” Marinette bites her lips as Juleka smooths a makeup brush over her skin, carefully erasing any sign of her teardrops, “He tried to apologize and I...I kind of unloaded on him.”

Alya sighs, “Girl, I love you, but can you please keep it together for the next few minutes, at least? I was having a panic over here when you didn’t show up.”

“I’m so sorry,” Marinette steels herself and allows Juleka to continue fixing her face, closing her eyes to centre herself. She has to focus on Alya right now, not her pesky feelings. She could do that for her best friend; she owed her that much, “I promise, I’m fine now. I think I just needed to get that off my chest.”

“Good,” Alya exhales before cupping her palms to her mouth, “Marinette’s here! We’re all good to get started.”

“Oh, thank god,” Joséphine and Sophie sigh in relief as they peek around the corner, “I’ll let the officiant know we can get started.”

Rose helps Juleka collect her things and sets them to the side, straightening her gown as Juleka follows her out towards the hallway. Marinette follows suit beside Alya and fiddles with her veil several times before fluffing it upwards just so. It drapes down to her waist perfectly and Marinette deftly arranges the train of her dress before coming up to stand in front of her, “You’re all ready.”

“Thanks, girl,” Alya smiles, giving her best friend one last big hug before the ceremony begins.

As the music starts to fill the picturesque venue, Ella and Etta make their way down the aisle first alongside Nino’s younger brother Noël and his closest cousin Alexandre. As the two couples split to their respective sides, Juleka and Rose follow suit, tossing rose petals in their wake. Rose had been adamant that there be a flower girl in the wedding despite not having any children in the party and took on the role with feverish delight.

Nora walks next, side by side with one of Nino’s best friends in the music business, and then Joséphine and Sophie join the fray with Nino’s collaborator and producer respectively. Marinette holds her breath, both entranced by the scene in front of her and horrified at what’s about to come.

Marinette takes her place at the beginning of the aisle, still as a statue. Adrien walks up beside her and holds out his elbow for her to take, which she does with all the finesse of a rusted robot before they start their slow, mechanical walk down the aisle.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he whispers, his voice barely audible as the music begins to swell.

Marinette squeaks a brief thank you, her back ramrod straight.

“And I know this isn’t the right time but…” his voice trails off, his model smile still plastered to his face as he speaks to her like a ventriloquist, “There’s only two people who know Chat Noir is back in town and I have a feeling they're both in this room."

~

“Welcome to Alya and Nino, and to all your friends who have gathered here together this afternoon...” the officiant begins as everyone sits, their eyes glued to the gorgeous couple at the centre of it all. Marinette desperately tries to focus except Adrien is staring intently at her from the other side of the room, his lips mouthing something she can’t quite ascertain.

And then it clicks.

I’m sorry for leaving you, M’Lady.

“We are all here in this glorious celebration of Nino and Alya's unconditional love for one another…”

What?! Marinette mouths back, blinking repeatedly. She must be dreaming and this is all just a very elaborate hallucination based on her imagination of what’s going to happen at Alya’s wedding tomorrow and she’ll wake up in just a minute—

I’m Chat Noir! And you’re Ladybug!

There’s no way this can be happening. There’s literally, absolutely, positively no way—

“...and today we remember that a wedding between two people is a heartfelt and meaningful ceremony that represents…”

No you’re not!

Adrien’s eyes widen with worry, his expression pale, I am! And I’m sorry that I—

“Alright, enough is enough,” Alya announces, spinning around to glare at her maid of honour and her future husband's best man, “If you have something you need to say to each other, you need to spit it out right now!”

The crowd gasps, then begins to murmur as Adrien leaps from his place beside the altar to run over to Marinette, “I have spent one thousand, four hundred and twenty three days regretting the choice I made to leave Paris because it meant leaving you. I never should have—”

Marinette finally finds her voice, “Am I getting this right? You’re apologizing in the middle of Alya and Nino’s wedding to tell me, to say to me—” Marinette flings her arms into the air, “I can’t believe you’re doing this right now!”

“If you had just let me talk to you—”

“Don't get all self-righteous with me,” Marinette counters back, embarrassed beyond all belief, “Because you have no one but yourself to blame.”

“I know, which is why I’m trying to apologize now that I have the whole picture—”

“The whole picture?! If you hadn’t just dumped me and gone off to some foreign land, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation!”

Their audience gasps. The photographer drops his camera.

“Hey, hey, wait a minute! I had to leave Paris. When my father found out I had applied to universities behind his back, he personally called up every single one of them and told them that I was prohibited from ever getting a post secondary degree while I was living under his roof. My job — my only job — was to model for Gabriel, so I had no choice! The only way to secretly get an education was to move to the Haus of Gabriel in Shanghai under the guise that I wanted to use my modelling as a way to further the brand overseas!”

“So you…” Marinette flounders, her indignance and guilt warring against each other, “You left because of that?”

“I didn’t want to leave, Marinette,” he pleads with her, his flushed cheeks and watering eyes revealing just how sorry he is, “But I had to. He had taken everything from me. I wasn’t even allowed to leave the house once I graduated, except to say goodbye to all of you.”

“But…”

“And every Christmas I came back to try and find you. Everyday, I’d go out looking for you. I’d call you but you’d never answer. I left notes. I did everything because I was crazy enough to think that you would be waiting for me.”

“I—”

“And every January, I’d go back to China feeling like an idiot. I’d lost the love of my life, the woman I’d loved for years and all because I couldn’t handle being used as a pawn in my father’s business. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to come back and find you, until I did this week and—”

“Sorry, can I just...can I just butt in?”

Marinette and Adrien turn away from each other to gawk at Alya.

“If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about — and judging by your faces, you are — I just want you to know that while I’m furious with the the two of you for interrupting my wedding day, I really, really, really want the two of you to work this out because I wouldn’t be anywhere without you guys and I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this under our noses this whole time!”

The lightbulb ignites above Nino’s head after Alya briefly whispers something in his ear, “Dudes! Dudes! Oh my god!”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, babe,” Alya grins, tugging insistently on her fiancé’s shoulder as he continues to freak out, “Look, you have our blessings, but can we please get on with this? I really want to get married!”

Red faced and humiliated beyond her wildest dreams, Marinette gathers herself. Adrien scampers over to the other side of the aisle and tries desperately to keep it together except he can’t stop looking at her, his fingers itching to reach out and touch. How the hell is this happening? And how is he going to ever earn her forgiveness now that they both know who they truly are?

“I have loved you for so long, Adrien! And I loved Chat Noir too, with all my heart, even if I never got the chance to tell him.”

Her words echo over and over again in his ears like an enchantment, tugging him further and further under her spell. She loves him! Both sides of him! She’s loved him all of this time! There’s still a chance!

“Alya, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Today, I vow to love you and hold you in my arms as long as we both shall live.”

“Nino, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Today, I vow to love you and support you as long as we both shall live.”

Marinette begins to tear up again except this time, she’s not sure if it’s because of the wedding or him.

“Nino, please place this ring on Alya’s finger and repeat after me: With this ring, I take you to be my lawfully wedded wife for now, forever and always.”

Sliding her wedding band up her middle finger, Nino gives the love of his life an everlasting smile, “With this ring, I take you to be my lawfully wedded wife for now, forever and always.”

“Alya, please place this ring on Nino’s finger and repeat after me: With this ring, I take you to be my lawfully wedded husband for now, forever and always.”

Vibrating with barely contained glee, Alya returns the favour, “With this ring, I take you to be my lawfully wedded husband for now, forever and always.”

The officiant, relieved that there were no other spontaneous distractions, raises his head in exultation, “Now that you have dedicated yourselves to each other with your vows and the giving and receiving of rings in front of all who have assembled here, it is with great pleasure that I may now pronounce you husband and wife!”

The party roars, cheering and crying from their pews as Nino hoists his wife into the air and spins her around, “You may now seal your vows with a kiss!”

The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur of movement. The wedding party follows Alya and Nino as they parade back down the aisle, dancing and skipping and partying down the stairs and into the gorgeous garden courtyard where the photographer has already set up his equipment. Marinette stumbles into autopilot as she directs the wait staff to deliver hors d'oeuvres and specialty cocktails she had created specifically based on the couple. The Alya Punch was a blood orange margarita while the Nino Spritz was a twist on a gin and tonic, with a little orange zing.

She’s almost gotten herself completely distracted by the revelry when a strong pair of arms snag her by the waist and lead her into a shaded alcove on the edge of the courtyard.

“Did you mean what you said before?” Adrien asks, his heart racing, “Have you really been in love with Chat Noir and I all this time?”

Marinette hesitates, shaken and stunned, “I never stopped. And I hate myself for it.”

“What?” Adrien reels back as if he’s been slapped, “Why?”

“Because for four long years, I fought with an imaginary ghost by my side. I could never forget you, even if I wanted to. And I did. I tried everyday to get over you. I worked eighteen hour days and fought akumas and gave up on my dreams so that I could do what needed to be done.”

“I’m so sorry,” Adrien rubs his hands over his cheeks and eyes, “I never should have left you without an explanation.”

“You couldn’t tell me without exposing your identity,” Marinette concedes, sagging against the stone alcove they were hiding in, “I just...I thought you were going to be gone for a semester, not an entire university degree.”

“I wanted to do something more with myself…” he trails off, glancing down at his shoes, “And I knew that if I didn’t take the opportunity when it presented itself, I would have lost it forever. My father still has no idea I have a degree in Science and Engineering. I was even accepted for my Masters in Architectural Design this past May.”

Something poisonous shatters in her heart, “So you’ll be going back to Shanghai after this?”

Somehow, Adrien begins to appear even smaller than he already feels, “Sunday night. Just long enough to be ghosted by my father for dinner.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The air cools uncomfortably between them, “Well, then I guess there isn’t really anything else to say.”

“What?”

Marinette finally gains the courage to look up at him, “You’re going back to Shanghai and I’m staying here to hopefully finish off what we started here together. I can never leave or travel or live my life so long as Le Papillon continues to terrorize Paris. And that’s all there is to it.”

“I…”

“The only ‘I’ in this team is me, Chat Noir,” Marinette says, straightening out the wrinkles in her dress with all of the grim determination of a woman who’s falling apart on the inside, “Please, don’t make this harder than it is.”

He snags her wrist as she goes to leave, “Wait, Marinette! There has to be something I can do—”

“There’s nothing you can do,” she levels with him, her words scraping like shards of glass on her tongue, “Goodbye Adrien. I wish you all the luck in the world on your Master’s degree and I hope you find your freedom and a great job out there. You’ve always been a good person and you deserve to have a happy life.”

She tugs her arm free and steps back into the sunlight to take her place beside the rest of the wedding party.

She doesn’t look back.

~

When All Is Said And Done

The wedding reception goes off without a hitch.

Everything is glorious. The food is divine and everyone is taking part in the generous libations being poured. The music is blasting through the speakers and everyone is dancing to the beat with their partners and their friends in a celebration of love. Marinette supervises from the sidelines and makes sure all of the gifts are accounted for, still too embarrassed to socialise much after completely humiliating herself in front of everyone during the ceremony.

As the clock strikes midnight, Nino raises his glass in the air and calls for everyone’s attention, “Here's to us and to everyone here who came out to celebrate! Let’s have one more toast!”

The party cheers and raises their glasses, downing them all in one go.

And with that, the party is over. Guests trickle out of the venue slowly, calling Ubers to get them home. Marinette leaves the wedding favours to Rose and Juleka and collects the decorations as fast as she’s able to. Her feet are aching and she kicks off her shoes, skirting around each and every table to grab centrepieces and the like. She’s nearly finished when she spots the source of her agony by the door, helping Sophie cart off the wedding gifts to the room they’d rented upstairs.

Her chest aches. It really does feel like goodbye now. After tonight, she would never see him again. She’d delete his number and stop following him on Instagram and TikTok. She would stop torturing herself with imaginary conversations as she leaps through the night searching for akumas and fighting bad guys. Weddings were a symbol of love and a symbol of new beginnings and this was about as close as she’d ever be able to get at having a fresh start.

With her head held high, she hops in her parent’s bakery van and listens to the gentle hum of the engine as she sits silently in the passenger side, her father’s fingertips on the steering wheel a good enough lullaby as anything. Her mom helps her out of her dress and she retreats for the night, feeling the heaviness of the day slip from her shoulders. 

She would have time to mourn tomorrow. 

~

And she does mourn for a few days. She cries into her pillow as Sunday turns to Monday. She watches Adrien’s Instagram story about getting back on the plane before unfollowing him and then cries some more, her eyes red and itchy from the overwhelming deluge of emotions four years in the making purging from her soul. 

She laughs through her tears as Alya and Nino tag her in TikToks of their vacation adventures in Spain, travelling from Barcelona to Valencia to Ibiza. Watching Nino cringe as he chews on the black pudding tapas is certainly a highlight, especially when Sophie gifs it and turns it into a meme that blows up once she uses it in a Buzzfeed article. 

When Marinette eventually gets to Kagami’s feed, her eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. Somehow, Luka (of all people!) had convinced her to travel to Los Angeles for a mini vacation and he was trying to teach her how to surf. She's obviously a natural at it and by the time Marinette checks all of their Instagram stories again, Kagami is weaving through the waves like a pro.

For everyone else, things are looking up.

And eventually, things would start to look up for her too.

By Tuesday, Marinette gets out of bed and stays out, turning on her sewing machine for the first time since before the wedding. Glancing at her email that had somehow been filled with commission requests over the weekend, Marinette feels a little like she’s standing at a crossroad and this time, she has no desire to run.

With her scissors in hand, she turns towards her fabric collection and feels a genuine smile pull at her lips as she gets to work on the first of three bridesmaids dresses for Joséphine. They would be powder pink and cocktail length, the perfect look for a lighthearted springtime celebration beneath the cherry blossoms.

She could go job hunting later. There’s no hurry anymore now that all is said and done.

READ PART 6 HERE!

#miraculous ladybug #mamma mia au #adrinette #djwifi #angst

[ifyoulovemeletmebinge]

We’re All Monsters

destiel au where everything in canon is used at the wrong time and oh also cas is a monster. 

for @beingforcedtolivebadwriting

RATED M 

read it on ao3 here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Dean Winchester knows he hates monsters.

That’s one thing. It’s almost the first thing. In almost every situation.

Dean wakes up and all he can think of is how much he hates monsters.

Some of it comes from the fact that John is a shitty dad and that’s not because of him being a shitty dad. Dean can’t remember much at all from his life before the fire, but from what John tells him, they were The Perfect American Family. He knows that at least.

He also knows that because monsters fucked that dynamic up for his family, he hates them unconditionally.

None of that has been truer than how he feels tonight. Tonight, his hands are still shifty on the wheel of the Impala, tonight his feet are still struggling to reach the brake pedal without stretching, and tonight the sky is pitch black and the air is warm and humid, and tonight he’s gonna kill some monsters.

Well. Maybe not.

John’s instructions were to stop by (by which he means break in) the morgue, take an extra look at the bodies, and identify any marks that stand out for a tell of what kind of son of a bitch they were dealing with.

John usually does this himself, but Dean thought it best to not bring up the fact that his dad needs to drink himself to blissful unconsciousness on the week of the anniversary of his dead wife. The case was bad timing, thus, Dean is the lucky pick to do the dirty work.

Not that he minds. This is something he wants to do. This is something he craves. Dean has been getting taller and bigger and stronger, and his hands have been itching more, and he can’t stop shifting his weight, and lately he feels like doing something that will fully transition him into the man he’s supposed to be. Except all he knows is John, and John is a hunter.

But Dean doesn’t mind. He’s good with a gun, and he’s a quick runner (he would have joined the track team if John had let them stay past Christmas break at his last school), and if that’s all he’s got, he’ll use it to do something. He’ll figure it out.

He’d way prefer to risk himself getting arrested, and going to juvie (again), than Sammy. Sammy, who’s back at the motel. Sammy who’s hopefully, peacefully sleeping. Sammy, who he hopes won’t be awake to see John come back from the bar. Dean intends to make it back before that. It’s only 11pm. He’s got time.

Dean parks the Impala (he only struggles for a few seconds with it, alright) a couple blocks down from the police station. His shoulders crowd up around his ears, cotton of his sweatshirt brushing his jaw, as he walks, as silent as he can, between the shadows of the decorative trees in this stupid suburb, to the back of the station.

He’s already scouted the place earlier in the day, so he knows which window leads to the desired formaldehyde smelling room. The station is only one story high, so he’s easily able to unlatch the outside lock with his pocket knife, and heave himself up. He shimmies himself in (fuck, that window’s tight) and ends up doing a supported handstand on the morgue floor. He throws his legs to the side--only hurting his ankles a little on the edge of the window--and then he’s finally got both his feet on the ground.

Dean stands up from his crouch, slowly. Then he scoffs to himself. Who the fuck is gonna hear him in here?

He moves closer to where the target is. There’s a sleek metal table in front of him, and yes, there’s a dead person on it, covered by a thin white sheet. Dean searches for gloves in the dark, because he’s a teenage boy but he’s not that gross, and he snaps them on, pulling back the sheet and averting his eyes from the corpse’s face. He goes straight to where the money is.

At the junction between the corpse’s shoulder and jaw, right in the middle of the neck, there’s a big bite. It’s not anything his dad has seen before, as he kept complaining so much since they found the case, and Dean has to swallow back bile at how ugly it looks. Black and protruded, half scaly-like, half-raw ripped skin, at least under the moonlight coming from the window. He should have brought a flashlight.

Dean is cataloging the patterns to draw for his dad later, tracing his fingers over the lines carefully, really feeling the texture and the way it’s swollen the skin. He thinks he imagines the sound at first.

Then he stops his hand, and he thinks again.

That’s definitely a sound. Like a real movement that wasn’t him, and it’s coming—it came at least—from the room right next door, the main storage for the other bodies. Dean turns his head to look at the door, and oh, would you look at that, it’s peeking open to more darkness on the other side. Where the sound came from. Except how is there a sound at a morgue in the dead of night?

Dean was not prepared for this. His heartbeat starts announcing itself in his ears, and he’s almost vibrating with fear. He thinks of his dad. What would John do at a time like this? Probably start shooting.

But Dean didn’t have a gun. Even if he did, it could just be the doctor, or a policeman staying after (they always got in his way), and he can’t go around shooting random people. It’s hard to explain to a dead person: “Hey! Sorry! Thought you were a monster! My bad!”

Then he remembers his pocket knife, whips it out, and holds it tight in his right fist. Dean starts walking towards the door, but he wants to knock the whole wall down and skeet the fuck out of there.

He holds his breath as he gently kicks the door with the tip of his boot (he figured out a way to make Sam convince John to get him new ones, and yeah, these loggers are pretty fucking cool), and then he’s in the room.

The first thing he notices when his eyes adjust to how dark it is in there (honestly, would it kill a monster to turn on a light?), is the two figures bent over what he assumes is another poor corpse being taken advantage of. He also hears… ew. Those are chomping and chewing noises. He never gets the clean ones.

Dean doesn’t know what to do! Does he shout? Scare them? Lunge at them? Anything he does next could be the last thing he does. Is he ready to die?

Luckily, Dean doesn’t have to decide his first move because the figures do it for him.

It happens too fast—and maybe he’s reading too many comics because his first thought is I wish I had super speed like Barry so I could gank these fuckers, except he doesn’t, so it’s fast.

He’s on his back in a blink. There’s a bony arm on his neck and another holding one of his wrists in a grip so tight Dean wants to make a eulogy for his circulation. There’s also a normal-ish weight on his hips and his stomach, which suddenly lurches because fuck. Fuck. The monster’s on him, he’s pinned. And for some reason he’s still alive.

Still. Fuck.

After a moment of heaving breathing from the guy on top of him, the figure lurking around, and his own wheezing lungs, Dean grunts out: “You guys gonna eat me or what?”

The guy above him doesn’t let up, but Dean does feel the other one walking around. Like the ground shakes with his every step as he comes closer to Dean’s ears near the floor.

“Personally,” says Figure 2 from way above him, and Dean feels disoriented at how far away his voice sounds, “I’m fairly content. My son here, however… well, he’s just famished.”

Dean’s eyes flick to the guy on him, trying to make out his features but it’s just too dark, and all he can feel is the terribly tight grip on his wrist, the way his forearm is crushing on his neck, and—hey. His pocket knife is still in his hand. His free hand, the one trapped under the small of his back, where he can feel the butt of the handle digging into his skin slightly.

“Go on, son.”

Figure 1, aka The Son, seems to be hesitating, and Dean doesn’t want to wait till he decides if he wants more salt on him or not before the meal, so he wriggles his hand out, and drives it across his body and downwards in a surprisingly strong stroke. He knows he hit something when the arms on top of him lift up entirely, and there’s a pained groan resounding amid the darkness.

He rolls on his side, scrambles up, and flies out of the room, back into the main morgue lab, through the door, down and down the long hallway, past the reception desk, and he’s out the main entrance, not caring one bit about the obnoxious ringing of the alarm behind him.

His calves are burning by the time he throws himself in the Impala, and he clumsily fishes out his dad’s keys, turning the car on. He drives 50 above the speed limit until he gets to the motel.

Dean tells John everything. He draws what he remembers with shaky hands. He neglects to mention how many of them there were.

<15 years later>

“And then, like a fucking Clint Eastwood movie, he comes back home--”

“You mean the motel?” Sam interrupts.

“Yeah, whatever. So he barges in the door--” Dean frames a rectangle with his hands “--silhouetted by the moonlight, and he tucks his gun in and he swings his dirty machete over his shoulder and he tilts his head and then he says: ‘Boy, pack your stuff. Our job here is done.’ I mean… it was fucking awesome,” Dean chuckles.

“I think your memory is unreliable.”

“Sam, you were dead to the world that night. On my bed, might I add, so you didn’t even see any of this. John kicked ass!”

Eileen’s smile is a little forced, and a little awkward, but Dean can’t blame her. His energy is hard to match when he’s a few beers in. Sam keeps eyeing her, like he's checking in on how she’s receiving this story about their dad. Like she would ever judge him for it.

“He sounds like a brave hunter,” she signs and says. Dean feels way too proud.

Sam tries and fails to keep the grimace off his face. “Yeah. Babe, is it late? We should…” he trails off, tilting his head in the direction of their bedrooms. Eileen nods in agreement, seeming relieved. She squeezes Dean’s hands as she leaves. Sam is standing now, and he waits until Eileen is gone to turn his bitchface on.

“Dean, please stop doing that.”

Dean furrows his eyebrows. “Doing what?”

Sam sighs, exasperated. “Praising dad. I don’t know, sugarcoating him, painting him as the hero. You know damn well he wasn’t.”

Dean’s throat tightens. If that’s what Sam thinks he was doing, he really doesn’t know him at all. He's full of indignation when he answers: “That’s the last thing that I would do. I know firsthand, more than you, how shitty John was. Sam, I know. I was telling the story how I remembered it. ‘Cause back then? Yeah, he was my hero. I’m old enough to know better now, but--what the fuck do you care? You think I’m purposely lying to Eileen? For what?”

Sam can’t meet his eyes. “Dean, no that’s not what I-I just can’t hear that shit. It makes me… uncomfortable. I don’t wanna talk about dad like that anymore. I'd rather not talk about him at all, actually! I just… I can’t hear that shit from you.”

Dean balks, mouth open. He scoffs, “Fine.” He stands up and puts his jacket back on, checking his pockets for his keys and his wallet.

He’s halfway up the stairs when Sam calls from the library, “Dean, come on. Let’s talk about this. Or not! Dude, we just got back from a hunt, don’t leave. Let just-let’s forget about it, alright?”

Dean pauses at the railing. He turns around and shouts down at Sam: “Yeah, sure, Sammy! Let's forget our whole heritage. It never fucking mattered to you anyways.”

He’s slamming the door to the bunker closed behind him, and hopping in the Impala (which he didn’t have time to wash or put in the garage since their hunt), and then he’s off god knows where. He needs a drink.

Dean picks the fourth bar/restaurant place he sees. That seems like far enough away from his brother for now. It’s one he hasn’t gone to yet. Fun, new, and exciting!

He’s working on his third whiskey, maybe half an hour after he arrived, when the bartender puts down another glass in front of him.

Dean glances up. “Hey, um. I’m good for now, really.”

The bartender is tying his long cornrows in a ponytail on the back of his head, and when he meets Dean’s eyes, he gives him a shit-eating grin. He nods off to the side, “Courtesy of your secret admirer.” Then he winks at him and leaves for the kitchen behind him. Dean feels all warm inside at that, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it before a man sits down on the stool next to him, a non-respectable four inch distance away.

Dean is appalled before he takes in this dude, and okay. Not bad. Looks about the same age, dresses like a grandpa from the trenchcoat he sees, has spiky black hair that Dean might want to run his hands through, and shit, fuck, he’s looking at Dean, say something!

“Hello,” the man says and whoa, who died and made you Batman? His lips are plumper than a guy’s lips usually are (look who’s talking, Dean) and chapped and they’ve got a nice shape. Dean likes the cupid’s arch on his upper lip, it looks classy. His nose is pointy, and maybe a bit small, but damn if it doesn’t work well with his sharp cheekbones. By the time Dean can register his eyes, all his brain can think of is wow.

Dean’s never seen bluer eyes. They’re as clear as the sky, but Dean feels like he could drown in them. Or maybe that’s just the way this man is looking at him. Dean’s rarely been stared at with this much intensity, and he feels a blush spread to the tips of his hot ears.

He clears his throat. “Hi.” Dean has to look away now, back to his own glass before he combusts. He’s surprised a dude like him would buy him a drink.

Apparently, the man can’t sense how awkward and unprepared Dean was for this because he starts talking again, keeping his voice low so that only Dean can hear him, so it’s only a rumble in his chest. “I hope I’m not overstepping. You looked like you needed some company. Is that the kind you like to drink?”

Dean is so flustered at the sheer… whatever this dude has, he has to remind himself this is a normal human interaction. Be nice. Make eye contact.

“Yeah, it’s uh--it’s great. Thanks. For buying it. Um, I’m kinda driving tonight, though, so I might want to stop at this--” Dean raises his own drink in his hand “--You can-you want it? I'd be a waste otherwise.” He’s cringing so bad inside that his stomach hurts.

The man levels him a neutral stare. A few seconds later, he nods and reaches over to pick up the extra whiskey. Dean follows his hands and fuck they’re nice. He’s got long fingers, and for some reason the way his metacarpals shift under his skin is incredibly attractive.

The fun doesn’t stop there though, because then the guy is bringing the glass to his mouth, and he’s not taking his eyes off Dean’s own wide ones, and he’s taking a drink and it all looks sinful. The way his trachea shifts as he swallows, the opening and closing of his enticing jaw, and especially the way his pink tongue peeks out from his mouth to lick at the rim of the glass.

Dean swallows what feels like sandpaper.

“My name is Castiel,” he says, putting the glass down, holding it between his hands like he's bracketing it. He shifts his hands and the glass follows, rotating back and forth.

“Dean.”

Castiel nods, his lips quirk up a little, and this might be the first sort-of smile Dean has seen from him.

“Why’d you buy me a drink?” he blurts out.

The grin grows by a millimeter. “You looked like you needed one.”

Dean snorts. “That bad, huh?”

“Maybe that good.” Dean sees a peek of teeth from Castiel and he can’t help but shiver.

Dean recognizes it for what it is, so he turns on his own charm, slipping into familiar flirting territory.

“So what do you do, Castiel?”

Castiel’s eyes flick to Dean’s mouth for the quickest moment, and then his mouth is a neutral plane again, smirk vanishing completely. He thinks for a few seconds. “I’m an accountant.”

Dean knows that could mean literally anything, except the guy is wearing a tie and there’s a trenchcoat, so yeah. He’s an accountant for real.

“Cool. Numbers, huh?”

Castiel narrows his eyes, like he’s squinting. Dean finds it both intimidating and endearing. “Yes. How about you, Dean?”

He blushes harder at hearing his name in that gravelly voice, but keeps his cool when he answers, rehearsed: “Odd jobs, here and there.”

Castiel doesn’t miss a beat. “Fascinating.”

Dean blinks. Okay. “Is it?”

“Yes. You must travel a lot.”

“I do, yeah,” he nods, feeling a little vulnerable.

Castiel is back to staring at him intensely, and it makes Dean’s veins sizzle a little with want. They’re upgrading from Flirting/Small Talk Territory to Let’s Go Like Now Territory. Dean’s breathing comes a little deeper.

“Would you like to travel right now?”

“What?”

Castiel is definitely looking at his mouth. “Would you like to go outside?”

Dean raises his eyebrows in surprise. This guy does not waste time. Not that he’s complaining, he’s been feeling hot all over since Castiel sat down, and he’d give himself at most another half an hour before he proposed they move this interaction somewhere else himself. So Dean downs the rest of his whiskey, feels the buzz in his ears and the tips of his fingers, and he stands up. “Let’s go.”

Castiel follows him outside.

The night is more humid than it should be for August, but Dean can feel the chill of Fall coming, and he’s grateful for his jacket. He’s shoved his hands in his jean pockets as he walks to the corner where the sidewall of the bar meets the front wall of it. He stops and leans one shoulder right at the edge of the wall to the side, facing the parking lot. Out of options for what to say, Dean waits until Castiel comes closer (his hands are in his trench coat pockets and it’s weirdly cute), and he points at his Baby, thirty feet away.

“That’s my car. She’s my Baby.”

Castiel stops two feet away from him, but right in front, and he turns his body to the side to follow where Dean’s finger points. He stares at the Impala for a bit, before he turns his head to Dean again. The light coming from inside the restaurant is what brightens Castiel’s face and Dean is a little breathless as he admires his illuminated features.

“She’s very beautiful.”

Dean smiles, proud and sheepish. “Thanks. Um, what about yours?”

Castiel inhales, taken aback. “Oh. I didn’t drive here tonight. I like walking.” he says slowly.

“Oh, okay.” Dean answers stupidly. It’s not that he’s disappointed they can’t talk about cars, it’s just… what else are they supposed to talk about at a moment like this?

“So what brought you here tonight, Cas?” Dean doesn’t catch himself in time, and the nickname is out. Oops. Castiel seems to inflate a little in response though, so he’s fine. For now.

“Rough day.” He says, then like an afterthought he adds, “At work.”

This dude is so fucking weird. Dean is obsessed with him.

Suddenly, he doesn’t want to wait anymore, he just wants to take what Castiel offered. He’s been wanting to taste him since he looked at his lips, so he smirks at Castiel and he asks, “Come here, Cas.”

For a moment Castiel tilts his head, and Dean can’t figure him out, and he kinda loves that, the anticipation of not knowing what this guy is gonna do or who he is. Dean beckons him with a hand. He’s drunk enough on the beers from earlier and the whiskey and the adrenaline drop from the finished hunt that he’s allowing himself this tonight. A little recklessness can’t hurt.

Castiel walks closer than Dean expected him to, and Dean turns to press his back to the side wall, his shoulder barely off the edge where the front and side connect. Castiel follows the twist of his body perfectly because suddenly he’s crowding Dean against the small space with his hands on either side of his head on the wall. Their faces are mere inches apart.

Dean loves the way the air shifts then, like someone pulled a lever down and the current of electricity started running. They’re breathing each other’s air, and Castiel’s eyes are glued to Dean’s mouth, while Dean alternates his staring between Castiel’s darkened eyes and those chapped lips. Dean feels like he's vibrating.

He forces his hands to unfreeze and brush the trench coat flaps aside, coming to rest on top of Castiel’s hips, over his belt. This moves their bodies closer still, Dean subconsciously opening his legs wider to let Castiel slot a knee in between them. Their hips press, Dean shivers, and then he shivers even more when he feels Castiel’s lips pressing against his.

It’s exactly like he imagined, except it’s about a thousand times better. Castiel’s lips are soft and pliant, and he presses brushing kisses and pecks Dean’s lips for a bit, leaving them tingling for more, until he starts to really get into it. Castiel softly clamps his mouth around Dean’s bottom lip and he pulls back, and Dean is so fucked. He tries to keep his knees from wobbling, and then he gets what he wants when Castiel presses forward again, kissing him open mouthed, and there is his tongue, and it tastes really sweet and Dean feels positively intoxicated.

He can’t remember when he closed his eyes, but there are fireworks exploding behind them, and his dick is saying “Hell, yeah!” and he’s tilting his head to kiss Castiel deeper, chasing more of his mouth and his taste and his smell. His hands are gripping Castiel’s hips in a vice.

Dean can’t help the moan he lets out when Castiel’s tongue does a thing, and he also can’t help his surprise when Castiel pulls back abruptly after the sound has registered. His shock is almost overshadowed by the crude things his brain is thinking when he takes in Castiel, whose lips are shiny and wet, and whose pupils are enormous.

Dean holds his breath, furrows his eyebrows, and waits. Castiel is looking at him, pained.

“Dean, I can’t,” he whispers.

There is a moment, and then Dean blinks, understanding everything. He’s a little upset, but mostly embarrassed, except his brain can’t fully express that, so it’s put through a well-oiled machine that converts it into anger. Now, that he can do.

He’s pushing Castiel off him, walking five steps away then pivoting and walking back. He repeats this path, running a hand down his face as Castiel just fucking stands there, looking at him sadly.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Dean bites out.

“Dean, I can-” Casties tries.

“No, seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whirls around to stare right at Castiel a few feet away. Castiel’s shoulders fall and it enrages Dean even more.

“You know what, Cas? Go fuck yourself. You got some issues to figure out, and it’s not gonna be with me. Go to hell, asshole.” Dean spits out, fixing Castiel with a furious stare, feeling his jaw tick in anger, and then he’s stomping away.

As he gets closer to the Impala, he crosses his arms, feeling indignation constrict his chest. This is not the first time this has happened with Dean and unfortunately, he thinks it probably won’t be the last.

Damn it. A guy like that? Probably has a pretty little wife, probably hides his wedding band right in his front pocket, which Dean completely skipped on his way to grab at Castiel’s ass. He groans internally as he rounds the back of the car till he reaches the driver’s door. He’s going home with the worst case of blue balls he’s ever had.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” He hears as he fishes out his keys and puts the right one in the slot to unlock the door, and hey, Castiel’s voice is much closer than he expected, but Dean doesn’t have time to turn around and yell at him some more because suddenly the ground is completely gone from under his feet. Dean’s vision goes blinding white, and then pitch black.

The pain finally registers on the back of his head, and the last thing he sees before he's out, is the key chain dangling from the lock on the Impala’s door.

****

The world slowly slots back together as Dean wakes up. There’s four, then three, then two, and then it all merges into one again. Dean acutely feels the pouding in his head.

He’s… laying down? Yeah, he’s on a bed. The mattress is nice. There's even a thin blanket on top of him, dark grey. He turns his head to the side-nope, that’s a wall-tries the other side and okay good, there’s the rest of the room. He feels a little less claustrophobic now that he’s seen the whole space. It’s dark just because the lights are off. It looks like a normal basement, unfinished ceiling and all, with boxes stacked in the corner covering a whole wall. There’s a couch facing him, parallel to the bed, and there’s a figure sitting there. Dean eyes his phone, wallet, car keys, and pocket knife on a night stand next to the bed. It’s just out of his reach.

He pinches his eyes shut, wiggles his toes in his boots (no brain damage done, yay), and then he groans out: “What can I do for ya, Mr. Monster?”

When he opens his eyes, Castiel has turned one of the overhead light bulbs on. He looks serious.

“Firstly, I want to apologize, Dean. I didn’t want to have to do this, and I didn’t plan for it.”

Dean is more than confused. “What.”

Castiel stands up from his couch, he’s only in his suit now, tie loosened, and damn Dean’s stupid (probably concussed) brain, but he still looks yummy. Monster, Dean. Focus.

Castiel crosses his arms, and plants his feet. He keeps a very respectable distance away from the bed, and Dean’s gut twists at the thought that he was playing him all along.

“I didn’t… want to seduce you. I just wanted to talk. I might have derailed from my plan slightly.”

Dean’s jaw ticks. “And what was that amazing plan of yours, Castiel? If that’s your real name.”

Castiel narrows his eyes at Dean’s tone. He huffs a breath out his nose, frowning.

“You know, Dean, you may not remember me, but I remember you. Fifteen years ago, your father killed my father, and I’ve been keeping tabs on you ever since.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breaths out after a few seconds of stunned silence, propping himself up to fully sit up on the bed. He feels his bruised brain click things together. “You’re the second one. You survived.”

Castiel is silent, and that’s all the confirmation Dean needs to know he was pinned down by this guy way before tonight.

Dean laughs. “What kind of fucked up revenge plot is this? You’ve been stalking me for years? Well, then you must know my father died of alcohol poisoning almost a decade ago. It was ugly and painful, and you missed your chance, asshole.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Dean,” he says sternly, “I didn’t want to kill your father. And I don’t want to kill you. That’s not why I ended up kidnapping you tonight. I’m grateful for what your father did for me.”

Dean does a double take, swings his feet off the bed and onto the ground. “You’re what?”

“This may come as a surprise, but not every monster is a monster. Not fully, anyway. I’m half-human. And I need your help to go all the way.”

#no i didnt beta this f off <3 #this IS the craziest thing ive ever written but i had to be realistic here #monster!cas has different motivations and slightly different characterization bc.... well he's a monster #hopefully ill get part 2 up by the end of the weekend!!!! #i hope you enjoyed this im kinda scared to post it im not too sure about it but it was fun to be in dean's head again :) #my destiel fanfic #destiel fanfic