#and holy fucking goddamn shit i have never had a medication just WORK so quickly i am shocked and fucking DELIGHTED

[nexus-nebulae]

remeron my fucking beloved

#I've been taking it mostly for anxiety #and holy fucking goddamn shit i have never had a medication just WORK so quickly i am shocked and fucking DELIGHTED #and it's helping SO FUCKING MUCH with eating????????? #i think partially because it alleviates the stomachaches from anxiety bc I'm not panicking constantly #but also it's supposed to help stimulate your appetite? i think? #and so fucking often i would just Not Be Hungry like all the time i just wouldn't eat bc i just. wasnt hungry? #but now im. definitely getting hungry when I need to and way more often #and I'm not getting that sense of If I Dont Eat The Food Im Craving I Just Wont Eat feeling as often anymore #where my brain just gives me a brick wall where we can't get a food but it's the only thing my brain will allow us to even put in the mouth #anything else is Bad i need That One Thing or at least a very close substitute #but now I'm more. idk the word for it. loosey goosey. I'm more open to eating more different foods every day #and every time i have a period of time where I'm off my pills bc i can't get a refill until monday or smthn #i NOTICE the difference like it is clear as day #i get way more angry and i get way more anxious and i stop eating when I'm off the meds #but when I'm on them i feel BETTER. like it's definitely not perfect but holy shit i can actually kind of function now 😭

[vendettaparker]

What a Dumbass [P.P]

Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter 

a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again. 

     This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop. 

     Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through. 

     At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him. 

     “Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch. 

     “He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.

     “Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth. 

     “How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz. 

     “Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?” 

     “She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.” 

     “I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes. 

     “Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake. 

     “Make it a month, I know my worth.” 

     Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.” 

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter. 

You: are you home

Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?

You: i’ll be there in 5 

Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?

Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????

(Y/N) declined (3) calls 

Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot. 

     Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room. 

     “(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room. 

     “Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”

     “Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you. 

     “And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor. 

     Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?” 

     “Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.” 

     ‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers. 

     “Bring a mop too.” 

     Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh. 

     “What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.” 

     “Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed. 

     “Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste. 

     “I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.

     “Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?” 

     “Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further. 

     “I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound. 

     “Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other. 

     “You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!” 

     “Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets. 

     “You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.

     “What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously. 

     “I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.

     “This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—” 

     “Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement. 

     “Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach. 

     “What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle. 

     “You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch. 

     “I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch. 

     You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss. 

     “You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.” 

     You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement. 

     “Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”

     “It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair. 

     “Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh. 

     “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.” 

     You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

     “No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”

     “Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.” 

     Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.” 

     “Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

     “But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”

     You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection. 

     Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features. 

     “Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”

     “Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss. 

     You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.

     “The feeling is mutual.” 

     “Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense. 

     “You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned 

     “You’re the one who got caught watchin—”

     “(Y/N)!”

#avengers #peter parker fluff #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x avenger!reader #spiderman fluff #tom holland spiderman #marvel #marvel fic #peter parker fic

[yeah-all-of-it]

I’ve had this headcanon for awhile now about Ian and Mickey starting a family and since I’m becoming more comfortable with writing, I thought I’d turn it into a fic. Enjoy!

A Life Changing Gift

“Debs, are you sure you understand what you’re offering right now?,” Ian questions, feeling a bit skeptical.

It is Debbie after all. Sometimes she’s perfectly pleasant and reasonable, other times she can be a raging bitch. But, she is his sister and he can’t imagine her offering something this monumental only to renege after they’ve gotten their hopes up. And she’s definitely mellowed out since they didn’t end up selling the house and she didn’t have to find a new place to live.

Ian and Debbie are sitting at the kitchen table in the Gallagher house. She had called him over to look at a cut Franny had gotten playing in the backyard. Wasn’t sure if it needed stitches and thought Ian could use his past medical training to check it out. In reality, it was barely a scratch. Ian should have known at that point Debbie was up to something, especially when she invited him to stay for coffee.

“Ian, I’ve been thinking a long time about this. Came up with the idea months ago but wanted to be completely sure before I said anything,” Debbie explains.

“Yeah, but, Debbie. This is fuckin’ huge. Think about how hard it’ll be on you-“

“I’ve already thought about all that shit, Ian. I’ve been through it before, you know. It’s really not that bad,” Debbie assures him.

Debbie seems sincere. Like she’s really considered every angle, every downside, upside, and in-between. He’s trying to keep his excitement reined in because he still has to convince Mickey that this is a good idea, which could be easier said than done.

“Listen,” Debbie says. “You don’t have to say anything now. Go home, talk it over with Mickey. You can even bring him over here and we can all talk about it if you want. No pressure.”

They both stand from the table and Ian goes to give her a hug.

“Wait, what the fuck are you doing?” Debbie jokes. “Thought you hated me and that we don’t do hugs anymore.” She laughs, and Ian knows she’s remembering how tense things were a year ago when she thought she’d be homeless and alone and she lashed out at all her siblings.

“Would you just fuckin’ come here?” Ian smiles warmly and holds his arms out.

She steps into his embrace and he just holds his little sister. Sometimes he still likes to imagine her as that sweet little girl that was always helping people. Always loving people, sometimes so much she would get hurt. It would kill him to see the tears in her eyes.

Sometimes, he sees glimpses of that caring little girl in the jaded woman she’s become. Like when she pretended to be the bride at his wedding; staying in the kitchen, missing the whole ceremony, just so he and Mickey could get married without any problems from the homophobes at the venue. And now, when she’s offering this selfless and life changing gift to them.

Ian whispers into her hair, hair that’s the same vibrant shade of red as his own, “I don’t even know what to say, Debs. Just… thank you.”

Debbie gives him one more big squeeze before pulling away. “You’re welcome. Now, go home and convince your husband to let me have his baby.”

———

“No fuckin’ way, NO fuckin’ way!” Mickey exclaims. “No way am I bangin’ your little sister.”

Mickey hops up on the counter, takes a long chug of the Old Style in his hand.

“Mick,” Ian sighs, leaning up against the opposite counter. “That’s not how it works. You would basically jerk off in a cup and she’d use a turkey baster, in the privacy of her own room,” he emphasizes,” to… place the sperm where they need to go.”

“Don’t you need like, a doctor or some shit to do that?” Mickey asks incredulously.

“Well, you can use a doctor but it’s expensive. This way is free,” Ian clarifies.

Mickey is clearly churning the idea around in his brain. Finally speaks.

“I thought we were just gonna like, find a fuckin’ kid that didn’t have parents or somethin’.”

“We can do that too, one day. Ya know, if we like the first one enough to do it again,” Ian says lightheartedly, slight grin, trying to calm Mickey.

Ian steps toward Mickey, placing his hips between Mickey’s knees, resting his hands on his thighs, rubbing softly.

Ian continues. “Think about it though, Mick. This baby would be us, you and me. It’s the closest we can get since we don’t exactly have the right stuff to do it on our own. He or she would have your DNA and, through Debbie, a little of mine too.”

Mickey beams at this, wraps his arms around his husband’s shoulders. “It would be kinda fun to have a little version of us runnin’ around,” Mickey admits. “You know a kid that’s part Milkovich and part Gallagher is bound to be a little shit though, right?” Mickey jokes, smiling at the thought.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Ian quips, leaning in and planting a sweet kiss on his smiling husband’s lips.

Ian pulls back from the kiss and asks seriously, “So. Do you wanna do this?”

“Yeah. Yeah I do. What about you?” Mickey questions.

“Fuck yeah, I do. Let’s call Debs right now.”

———

“I’ve done a lot of research about this. You guys know it might not work on the first try right? Don’t want you to be frustrated or disappointed if it doesn’t work this month. Doesn’t mean it won’t ever work, but it can take a little time,” Debbie explains.

They are sitting in the Gallagher living room the day they are making their first attempt at insemination.

“Yeah, we know, Debs. Don’t worry,” Ian replies. “We’re not in a hurry.”

“Okay, good. Keeping your expectations reasonable is good,” she says. “I’ve also been tracking my basal body temperature and took an ovulation test, so today is my most fertile da-“

Mickey interrupts, “Thanks, Dr. Gallagher, but we don’t need all the gory details. Now where do I jerk off? Hey Ian, you gonna gimme a hand, man?” Mickey clicks his tongue and bounces his eyebrows playfully.

“Ugh, no gory details, right? Let’s just keep all the personal shit to ourselves okay?” Debbie requests.

“Yeah, this is already awkward enough. Don’t need to make it weirder,” Ian agrees and eyes Mickey scoldingly.

Ian and Mickey are forced to go into the bathroom because Lip and Tami live there now and their old bedroom is now Fred and the baby’s room. They’re not home but it would be uncomfortable seeing Fred’s little toddler bed, his stuffed animal collection staring at them while Mickey gets off. So, bathroom it is.

“Listen, Mickey,” Ian explains. “I’ll help, but we are keeping this clinical. Short and sweet. We can fuck at home later for fun; this needs to be done with a purpose, a goal. Debbie’s waiting.”

“Ugh, Jesus, man, why you gotta bring up Debbie? Doesn’t exactly make this process easier to think of her waiting in her room to squir-“

“Okaaayy, focus Mick,” Ian interrupts before that sentence goes any further.

Ian yanks down Mickey’s pants and gets to work. He knows exactly how Mickey likes it to make him come quickly. It works and Mickey finishes into the bulb of the turkey baster in record time.

Ian wipes off the edges and walks it to Debbie’s room, knocking on the door. She opens it just enough to stick her arm out and Ian places the bulb in her hand. Ian hears her say, “Uh, you guys can go home. I’ll text you later,” and shuts the door.

On their way back to the Westside, Ian’s phone dings. He picks it up and reads the text from Debbie out loud. “Transfer is complete.”

“What now?” Mickey asks.

“We wait,” Ian answers.

———

“It should have worked by now, right?” Mickey asks, an edge of concern in his voice. “I mean, it’s been almost 4 months. What if like, my fuckin’ swimmers don’t work or somethin’?”

Ian tries to calm Mickey down, rubbing his arm that’s slung across Ian’s belly. It’s midnight and they really should be asleep but Mickey’s spiraling over the whole surrogacy thing.

“Mick, this is normal. We knew it could take awhile. There’s no need to freak out yet,” Ian assures. “What’s all this about, anyway? All the worry.”

“Just… I know it took a long time for me to even wanna have kids. Then you had to convince me to do this shit, to be okay with Debbie carrying my baby. Fuck, that still sounds creepy as hell. But anyway, I know I wasn’t on board with everything at first, but now? Ian, I’m so fuckin’ excited to have a baby with you. To be a dad with you. It’s just hard to wait, that’s all. And then I think… what if it doesn’t happen? What if this whole plan just fuckin’ fails? Then what?”

“Then, we come up with another plan,” Ian assures. “I wanna raise kids with you too, Mickey, so fuckin’ much. I wanna give them the childhood we never got to have. I wanna take them to the beach with you, I want us to play blocks on the living room floor, and read bedtime stories together. All that shit. It’ll happen, Mickey. One way or another, we’ll make it happen.”

Ian snuggles Mickey closer, kisses him on the top of the head, and they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

They are woken up by Ian’s obnoxious ringtone at 6:00 am, well before they have to be up for work.

“Who the fuck is calling this goddamn early? Better be fuckin’ important,” Mickey grumbles while rubbing his eyes.

It’s Debbie.

“Hey, Debs!” Ian says with fake cheerfulness, still half asleep. “What’s up?”

“There’s two lines!” she screams on the other end of the phone.

“Okay?” Ian replies.

“There’s TWO lines!” she repeats, emphasizing the word two.

“I don’t know what the fuck that means, Debs. Two lines where?” Ian questions.

“On the pregnancy test, dipshit! It’s positive! I’m pregnant!” she yells.

Ian bolts upright in bed. Mickey grumbles “what the fuck” under his breath, eyes still half closed.

“Holy fuck! It’s positive?” Ian exclaims. “It worked?

Mickey’s up now too. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Debs! Thank you! I love you! I’ll call you back later!” Ian says, unable to hold in his excitement.

He hangs up the phone. Turns and looks at Mickey. “It worked. She’s pregnant,” Ian practically whispers, unable to believe it. Ian sees tears well up in Mickey’s eyes and, for only the second time Ian has ever witnessed, they spill out onto his cheeks.

———

“Damn, you look like a beached whale, Debbie,” Mickey observes.

Debbie gives him a dirty look but chooses to keep her mouth shut.

She’s a week past her due date so they are at the clinic today to make sure everything is good. Debbie is up on the table and Ian and Mickey are sitting in the two available chairs when the doctor comes in.

“Hi, Debbie! Hi, Dads!” she says cheerfully. “So we are going to measure your belly and do a quick ultrasound just to make sure your amniotic fluid looks good.” Mickey grimaces at the term “amniotic fluid”. “I’ll have her back in a jiffy, guys!” the doctor says as she whisks Debbie out of the room.

They spent the last 6 months getting everything they needed for their new baby. Tami even threw them a shower where they got clothes, bottles, a swing, a carseat, and about a billion diapers. They decorated the nursery in light gray bedding with tiny white stars. Gender neutral because they want to be surprised. They have everything ready, all they need is the baby who is taking its sweet time.

Around 20 minutes has passed when the doctor pokes her head in the door.

“Sooo, I have some news. Debbie’s water broke while we were doing her ultrasound and her contractions started coming really fast. From what I’ve been told, her first delivery was pretty quick so we’re transporting her to the hospital just down the road, just to be safe. You are welcome to head over there now. I will be delivering so I’ll see you guys there!” and her head pops out as quickly as it appeared.

Ian and Mickey just look at each other, stunned. Finally Mickey regains his senses and breaks the silence. “Well, let’s fuckin’ go!”

They finally make it to the OB floor after a couple wrong turns inside the hospital. A nurse points them to Debbie’s room and they walk in when she’s in the middle of a pretty intense contraction. Once it subsides, she greets them and informs the epidural is on its way.

Once it’s been administered and Debbie is blissfully pain free, she asks, “Do you guys want to be in the delivery room?”

They both look at each other. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” Ian replies.

“Fuck, no,” Mickey says. “I don’t wanna see that shit.”

“Mick, you don’t have to watch. We can stand up by her head. Hold her hand. Be supportive since she’s bringing our baby into this world.” Ian turns to Debbie. “Are you sure you don’t mind? We understand if you want to keep things private.”

“Ian. I gave birth to Franny on our kitchen table in front of… like, everyone. Kev saw my vagina. V saw my vagina. Fuckin’ Sean saw my vagina. Trust me, I don’t care if you two are in the room.”

Ian looks at Mickey. “Fuck… fine. We can be in there,” Mickey relents.

A nurse comes in to check Debbie and informs her she’s 100% effaced and 10cm dilated. It’s go time. Things move at a quick pace after that. More nurses come in, turning on extra lights, bringing in supplies, wheeling in the heated bassinet.

Ian and Mickey stand side by side to Debbie’s left, Ian holding her hand, while she pushes. It’s fast. She only pushes for ten minutes before they hear cries and the doctor’s holding the baby in her hands, declaring, “it’s a girl!”

The next thing they know, a nurse is throwing a clean blanket over Mickey’s chest, and another nurse walks over and places the baby, his daughter, in his arms, blood, vernix, and all. Ian expects him to be grossed out but Mickey just stares in awe at this beautiful baby. This baby that looks like him in the face, but has a head of red hair.

Ian steps up to Mickey and wraps an arm around his shoulders, placing his other under Mickey’s arms that are holding their daughter. There is not a dry eye in the room. Ian and Mickey are crying, Debbie is crying, even the doctor and nurses are crying.

The next hour or so is spent getting the baby, and Debbie, cleaned up and dressed. They take the baby and run the normal tests and give her a vitamin k shot.

Once Debbie is in a room, the nurse brings the baby in to her dads. Ian sits in the rocking chair snuggling her while she sleeps and Mickey is right next to them.

Debbie just gazes at this new little family from her spot in bed. “So,” she finally says. “What are you naming her?”

Ian and Mickey just smile at each other before Ian responds, “Debbie, meet Margaret Laura Gallagher-Milkovich. Maggie for short.”

Debbie’s eyes tear up. “You guys gave her my middle name?”

Mickey surprisingly fields this question. “We wanted her to be named after the person that’s responsible for her bein’ here. For helping’ create her for us. I know I give you a lotta shit, but I love ya, and I appreciate the fuck outta you, Debbie.”

“Aww, Mickey, I love yo-“ she begins before being interrupted.

“Don’t get fuckin’ used to it. I’m emotional today,” he snaps with feigned grumpiness. Then smiles at her.

They let Debbie snuggle her for a bit before being released by the pediatrician to take her home. Thankfully they had already installed the infant seat in their car so they were prepared.

They walk through the door of their apartment 30 minutes later. Ian sets the carrier down and picks the baby up out of it, snuggling her tiny body to his chest before passing her off to Mickey.

“I’m not sure what you were so worried about, you’re a natural, Mickey,” Ian says as he gazes at his handsome husband tenderly cradling their beautiful baby girl.

They walk over to the sofa and sit down, thinking about the whirlwind of a day. Not knowing when they got up this morning to take Debbie to the clinic that by evening, they’d be holding their daughter in their arms.

Ian wraps Mickey’s shoulders with his arm, places his hand on their swaddled baby and says, “Welcome home, Maggie Gallagher-Milkovich. Your dads love you so much.”

#gallavich fic #ian and mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #debbie gallagher #post season 11

[catharsis-in-a-bottle]

AHSDHFHHJKKHD

THE QUEEN’S GAMBIT. WAS SO FUCKING GOOD. 

[spoilers below if you haven’t seen it and you want to]

Here are some of my (not in any particular order) bullet points. This is gonna be long as hell because, you know, brain dumps amiright

First off, Anya Taylor-Joy’s acting. Is just incredible. In particular moments, you can tell what she’s thinking with a simple hand gesture or with the tiniest raise of an eyebrow. She develops Beth’s signature facial expressions and movements throughout the show, and you just feel like you know her. And during her chess matches, sometimes it feels like she’s staring into your soul. Especially when she gives that badass chin-on-the-hands look and she knows she’s going to win. Powerful energy.

Secondly, I fucking knew I recognized Harry Beltik from somewhere else but my mom didn’t BELIEVE me and then I looked up the actor and he’s DUDLEY DURSLEY, I WAS RIGHT MOTHER, I WAS RIGHT

I love love love how they didn’t make, like, a major romantic plotline. Beth doesn’t end up with a partner - she ends with a bunch of super supportive friends that have her back by the time she gets to Moscow, and like, she has a crush on Townes but they end up being just like super good and healthy friends and I love it?? So much?? Thank you producers

Townes. Just, in general. I really like his character, he’s super nice and his voice is oddly soothing

BORGOV. I LOVE BORGOV. HE IS SO GODDAMN RESPECTFUL. Like, he seemed like a very cold character at first - well-mannered and extremely professional, yes, but rather cold. But when she wins in Moscow? “It is your game. Take it.” I LOVE THAT SO MUCH. AND HE HUGS HER AND STARTS CLAPPING AND THE AMOUNT OF RESPECT AND ADMIRATION AND AFFECTION IN THAT SCENE IS INCREDIBLE. And you don’t see any of that in Borgov’s face when he’s playing. His facial expressions do not change at all. But then his face when she wins!! He’s HAPPY! He’s like, goddamn, I’ve spent my whole life mastering chess, it’s about time somebody fucking beat me! I know I’m repeating myself but just his RESPECT I absolutely adore it

And Beth’s officer-watcher-person in Moscow was all like “ahhh be wary of the Russians! communism!!” but they absolutely did not make this yet another evil Russian show, like please that trope works for plots but it’s about time somebody did something different - they showed the US government as suspicious of the Soviets but then they showed the solidarity between the chess players that Benny talked about earlier (”The Russians work together, Americans work alone” or something like that), and then they showed the kind and excitable people on the streets, and the amount of support they would have had no matter WHO won that goddamn match. The old man she plays at the end. Everyone is a community.

Continuing that - I cannot for the life of me remember the name of the old man with the very puffy white hair, but I loved him too. He sees Beth as the rising star she is, and he respects her. He admires her. The dynamic there is absolutely immaculate, contrary to the dynamic between Beth and the man she beats earlier, the one who walks off and doesn’t even talk to her. We don’t like that man - we like the ones who admit defeat and respect Beth!! I love them!! They are extremely professional, and they show the warm-heartedness that often doesn’t show with all of the cold stares and glares that pass between players during matches.

Joline. I’m so glad she came back. I love her. She’s extremely independent but she comes back for Beth because Beth needs her but she’s also like “I’m not your savior! Get your shit together!” which is fucking awesome. And the fact that the two of them interacted like the best of friends even after years of separation was really sweet to me.

I nearly cried when Beth went back into the school. (I say ‘nearly’ because there were other people in the room and naturally I can’t do that in front of other people. If I was utterly alone, maybe on my own planet, I would have.) Because of all of it. Because of her trauma, because that’s where all the shit began... and the music during that scene. It was hauntingly beautiful, especially when the melody began switching to cello. And then Beth saw all the pictures and newspaper clips that Mr. Shaibel had saved, because he cared about her so much, because he started it all - he’s the reason she’s going to national tournaments, to Paris, to Moscow. And in that scene, we know he’s too old to be alive anymore, and she does too. The whole school scene in general just feels so ghostly and ethereal. 

I love Borgov, did I say that already? I just... strive to exude his energy. I want to be good at things but I want to hold deep, genuine respect and admiration for others who are also good at the thing, because sometimes I just have the biggest fucking ego and I can get carried away. ‘Borgov, Borgov, Borgov.’ A mantra. He wins respectfully and he loses respectfully. 

BETH’S MOTHER (the second one) JUST FUCKING DIED OUT OF NOWHERE?? AND I WAS SO SHOCKED? Which is really an accurate reflection of reality because death often comes out of nowhere, but DAMN I was not expecting that shit

And the fact that the mother just,,,, let her chug a beer,,,, oof

THE ADDICTION. BETH’S DOWNWARD SPIRAL. IT MADE ME FEEL SO HORRIBLE BUT IT FELT SO REAL. Everything about her progression through addiction was just... I can’t find an adjective. But when she just fucking inhaled that bucket of pills as a kid and then collapsed. When that addiction lasted into her adulthood - it’s really impactful and horrible and just so real. She needed proper care throughout this entire goddamn show and she never got medical care, she just got supportive friends - which, btw, that’s one thing that kind of threw me off. Like, she didn’t have withdrawal in Moscow, she went from chugging like four bottles of wine a day to... not drinking at all?? Without withdrawal symptoms?? And I’m proud of her for throwing away those pills but honestly it felt really fast, idk

GIVING CHILDREN TRANQUILIZERS WAS AN ACTUAL THING THAT HAPPENED. I DID NOT PREVIOUSLY KNOW THIS. BUT LEGITIMATELY, IT HAPPENED. HOLY SHIT.

HARRY BELTIK. He was like, awkwardly in love with Beth and that shit didn’t work out but even afterwards he FUCKING CARED. He’d seen his father drink himself to death and he knew that would happen to Beth and he was scared. So he came back, he tried to help her, and at that point (when she had that fucking scary eye makeup, yeah that was rock bottom) she didn’t care much about the outside world anymore. She was angry, and she was closing herself in. It made my stomach clench in physical pain. Which is a good thing. But also not.

Harry Beltik in general just being so supportive and wanting to help her though, like yeah it was very awkward, but they were vibing

AND BENNY WATTS IS FUCKING GREAT. THAT WHOLE COWBOY LOOK, COWBOY CHESS PLAYER, NOW THAT’S AN AESTHETIC. He was concerned for Beth too. He wanted to help her. He wanted to create that American solidarity that he knew the Soviet competitors had, and ultimately he did when he and everyone else called her in Moscow. Benny is... chaotic good? Neutral? He is quite an interesting character, and Beth’s persistent social awkwardness fades away with him because he knows how to interact with her. He’s a dedicated and smart narcissist, and I’m here for it.

The fact that they made me love and hate Cleo at the same time, and also question Beth’s sexuality when she first met Cleo. Like, she’s from Paris. She considers ‘tomorrow night’ to be a very long time away. I love her mysteriousness. But also, she was the catalyst for Beth’s downward drinking spiral before the match in Paris, so like... I like Cleo’s personality, but not her choices in those previous moments.

The music. Did I mention the music? The soundtrack. The orchestrals. That one song that the mother plays on piano that I hear all the time and I still don’t actually know what it is PLEASE HELP. The music is melancholy in the right moments, upbeat in the right moments, intense and suspenseful in the right moments - and also absent in the right moments. There’s tacet. There’s silence. And it’s always been my firm belief that silence can hold just as much impact as sound. 

Just an interesting note, my mom watched the whole show before me and then re-watched it with me, and when Mr. Shaibel showed up she quickly reassured me that he wasn’t a child molester, because quote “it may be a creepy basement but he’s just really nice” so...  I was reassured

I love Mr. Shaibel, and Beth just kept sticking up for him in front of the press and,,, yeah

I hated that bitch from the high school, what was her name?... The one who showed up in the store with a child? It makes me think about the fact that so many kids are just jerks in high school simply because they can��be... and occasionally their fuckery lasts into adulthood but oftentimes it doesn’t. You don’t have to be a jerk when you’re an adult, and you don’t have to be a jerk in high school! People remember, people always remember! So, to the bitch from the high school: fuck you for making Beth feel like an outsider and then trying to reverse gears and accept her, cuz Beth isn’t falling for that shit.

The twins, Matt and Mike. They’re so doubtful of Beth in the beginning but then bam, she’s competing nationally, and I adore how the three of them become friends. All those men playing chess in Kentucky in the beginning seem so condescending, but ultimately they show respect because Beth absolutely fucking deserves it.

I enjoy the fact that we never *really* know Beth’s age. It’s just like... she’s 9, she’s 15, she’s 17, she’s... twenty something? Who the hell knows? As many characters say, when it comes to skill level, age ultimately isn’t an important factor. This young woman beats the oldest man with the bushiest white hair in Moscow and age. Does not. Matter. 

The Jesus people lmaooooo when Beth said “because it’s fucking nonsense” I just. Mad respect ma’am, don’t take their money, go be a communist and “sPrEaD tHe aThEiSt AgEnDa”

Wow I really just... wrote all that didn’t I damn wish I could write essays this fast at reasonable hours of the day

Beth’s relationship with her foster mother is so fucking sweet until she fucking dies

And fuck Beth’s legal father. He is an asshole. That is all.

The mother deserved Manuel, she deserved that sketchy Mexican salesman goddammit

As my final bullet point: This has made me want to play chess. This has made me want to get good at chess. You know that thing where you like, download the personality of the coolest character for like a day after you watch something... I don’t do that anymore (maybe), but I want to download those mad chess skills. This has made chess seem so cool. I want to wear a fancy suit and compete with people. I just have to, you know, actually develop some strategy and stop losing brutally against people online. I wAnT tO pLaY cHesS dO yOu HeAr mE

I’m going to stop now, but I just,,, peeps, I love this show. I’m absolutely going to require a re-watch in the future. I just love it. The characters and their development, their relationships with each other, the progression of time and of Beth’s maturity... it is simply incredible. This concludes my brain dump.

#ah. just ah. #the queen's gambit #beth harmon #elizabeth harmon #townes #harry beltik #mr. shaibel #vasily borgov #chess #netflix #rant #random #thoughts #brain dump #joline #tw drugs #tw drinking #tw alcohol #tw trauma #ahdsfgsdjfgsjgjdgjhdsgfjsdgjfds #anya taylor joy #benny watts

[phobiadeficient]

If you wouldn't mind, could you do a scout x fem sniper? I've seen stories of both females or femscout, but not very often does fem snipes get any love.

welcome to “this request got out of hand and i basically just wrote 5k words of scout tf2 being a goddamn simp”

(no warnings)

-

How the fuck was it that Scout kept ending up head over heels for women who both could and would kill him without any hesitation? Hell, maybe he had a type of something. Who knows?

And he’d kind of done a joke about it, when he heard there was a girl on the team, right? Been all ‘hey, hell yeah, at least boredom won’t be an issue!’, right? And then he’d gone to meet the team and for a minute he’d figured it was the Pyro since he didn’t exactly see a lady and the flamesuit didn’t give out much information. But then he’d seen the figure sitting off to one side facing away from him with the wide-brimmed hat pulled down low and the big shooter’s glasses and the crossed arms and the braid that just barely reached her back and he pieced together some stuff. So he walked over and introduced himself with a handshake and all because he was trying to be polite to everyone up front, good first impression and all, and apparently then he made a mistake, because he called her ‘Miss’.

And then suddenly that handshake turned into his wrist being bent in completely the wrong direction, and her standing up and holy shit she was tall and her voice was way deeper than he’d expected as she calmly informed him that if he called her ‘Miss’ again she would be packing him up in a burlap sack and sending him on a long roll down a short pier, and in fact that her name was Sniper and he could call her that and only that, clear?

So pretty much she was way more intimidating than he would ever be and he was a little annoyed with himself about how hot he found that.

Just his fuckin’ luck, that his nerves got the best of him so bad whenever he really had a thing for a girl, made him act like such an idiot. And he already kind of had his shit wrecked in front of the team once and he wasn’t looking to be turned into the official laughingstock of the group, so he tried his best to leave her alone and steer clear of her before he looked like a complete idiot.

It was just that holy shit she was tall, and every once and a while he would see her in the common area reading a book—like, an actual one—and her voice was kinda gravelly and she could pop a guy’s head from a hundred and fifty feet without even thinking about it and this one time when most of the team was waiting outside the infirmary for Medic to fix them up from battle she fell asleep in the chair across from him and her glasses were all crooked and her hat was lopsided and it was just really really cute—

Okay, so he had a thing for her. The main issue was that he didn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

Because, like—she was so fuckin’ cool. And he hadn’t talked to her much for not wanting to look like an idiot reasons, but he’d gathered that while she wasn’t, like, twelve PhDs or mad doctor kinds of intelligent, she was pretty damn smart. And she wasn’t exactly Doris Day or whatever, but he thought she was pretty in a different sort of way. In a could-kick-his-ass kind of way. And also she had a bunch of freckles, which he was just all about.

But he didn’t have the best track record when it came to cool, smart, attractive women wanting to associate with him. Namely, they just straight up didn’t. Mostly they called him annoying or laughed in his face when he hit on them.

Which you would think would start to hurt less after a while, but boy, would you be wrong.

Then again... hey, his luck had to turn around eventually, right?

That’s what led to him putting on the only shirt with buttons that he owned and a pair of nice-ish pants and strolling all the way out to the camper van she lived in instead of the room they had for her in the base.

He knocked, and for a good ten seconds he didn’t hear anything at all and thought maybe she wasn’t even in and he’d have to do a walk of shame all the way back, but then he heard the sound of movement within and a good ten seconds after that, she opened the door.

She was clearly trying to wind down after work, down to her tank top but still in her boots and shades for some reason, and most notably she was holding that big fuckoff knife she always carried into battle. She stared at him, expression flat.

“Uh,” Scout said, eyeing the knife, thrown entirely off of his game for a second.

She went to shut the door again.

“Aw, c’mon, wait a sec!” he whined in protest, stopping the door with his hand. “I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“You had a look on your face like you were planning to ask me to prom,” she deadpanned, and he flushed.

“Did not!” he protested.

She sighed hard, opening the door again. “Alright, then what’s all this, then?” she asked, gesturing loosely at his outfit with the knife.

“Uh,” he started, and fought hard to kick his brain back into motion, to try to piece back together the script he’d had in his head, but they were already wildly off track. “Uh, I was uh—I was just, y’know, I was wondering, if you’re—are you uh, busy?”

She stared at him. “...Am I busy,” she repeated, and he realized how dumb that sounded. Of course she wasn’t busy. None of them except maybe the eggheads were ever busy.

“I uh I meant did you have—y’know, plans or anything? Tonight?” he tried. She raised an eyebrow. “I mean y’know because I was just kinda wondering if maybe you’d wanna go and uh—and get a drink or somethin’. With me, later. Uh, tonight.”

“Mate, you wanna take another run at that without the stutter?” she asked, voice still flat, but her expression had shifted a little, the slightest quirk to her lip.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, shelving his pride for the moment. “Do you wanna go get drinks with me tonight?” he tried, and forced a hard stop at the end, biting his tongue before he could keep rambling and ruin it.

She looked at him. Moved to lean her shoulder against the door, to cross her arms. He glanced at the knife and back up to her face again. Her expression was hard to read.

“What, at a bar? In town?” she asked, tone a little lighter.

“I mean, yeah, sure, whatever’s cool,” he shrugged. “I’ve—I’ve got a motorcycle. Or, uh, I could borrow Demo’s car maybe, he uh, he’s really cool about lending it to me whenever as long as like, like if I’m heading to get food or something I bring back somethin’ for him, and I gotta pay for gas if it’s a long way or whatever but I figure that’s probably fair since I’m the one usin’ it most of the time anyways, I figure that’s a fair trade-off—“

“Scout,” she cut in, and he shut up. She paused. “Rather not go to a bar, if I’m being honest.”

His shoulders sank. “Oh. Uh, yeah, okay, that’s—that’s fair, I uh I totally get it—“

“But I‘ve got drinks here,” she cut him off again, voice raised a little to be heard over his mumbling, and when he looked up she had an eyebrow raised again. “Swing by ‘round nine or so, yeah?”

“Oh. Oh! Uh, no, yeah, totally!” he agreed quickly.

“In something besides the polo, if you don’t mind,” she deadpanned, head tilting to look at his shirt pointedly. “Aren’t exactly a fancy establishment.”

“Sure, okay,” he nodded, and shuffled on his feet for a second before taking the cue and starting to head off back towards base. “Uh, see you then!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she murmured. A pause. “And if you bring flowers I’m locking the door on you!”

“Hah, sure!” he laughed, and waved, and she went back inside.

Two hours later, a few minutes after nine, he’d changed into something more closely resembling his usual outfit, and noted that Sniper had also changed, just a little, putting on a different shirt he’d never seen her in. He realized belatedly that he’d never actually seen her out of the clothes that made up her uniform. It was a nice shirt. He tried extremely hard not to stare at her chest. He mostly succeeded.

And he was proud to say that if nothing else, he could at least hold his alcohol as well as she could. Most of the guys made fun of him and said he was probably a total lightweight, but he wasn’t actually that bad, mostly on account of eating full meals and getting a lot of exercise. She drank a brand of beer he didn’t know shit about, and it wasn’t the worst he’d ever had. And they talked a bunch, about work mostly, but he went on a bunch of tangents in the middle about other stuff, music and movies and home and stories about all his brothers.

Luckily for him, she was apparently pretty patient, and didn’t get annoyed with him and tell him to leave. Mostly she just sat and listened, nodded along occasionally, snickered at a joke every now and then (which was a grand slam victory every time). And by the time he looked at the clock and realized it was pretty late and he needed to head back, maybe it was just the buzz of the alcohol, but she seemed more relaxed, her usual deadpan replaced by the slightest little smile. She offhandedly mentioned that she wasn’t busy around the same time next week, and maybe they could hit an actual bar or something that time.

And he was through the fuckin’ moon over that already, then he was standing outside the door and trying to agree and make sure she was serious as best he could, stammering like a dumbass probably but she already knew he was a dumbass so it was fine, but then he wasn’t stammering because she tilted his face up and kissed him full on the mouth for one, two, three seconds before pulling back and saying she’d see him later and shutting the door behind her.

And he was about halfway back to base when his brain turned back on, and only barely managed to talk himself down from sprinting directly into the common room and announcing what had just happened to the entire team because holy shit he was pumped. But no, no way, he had to keep cool about this. He didn’t know the most about Sniper, but he knew enough to figure she probably wouldn’t be psyched about that.

So instead he just chilled out and wrote in the date and time on his calendar with minimal exclamation points and calmed down.

Mostly.

And, well, he knew he had kind of... a thing, about jumping into relationships a little too quickly, about zooming around the bases and then promptly striking out next time he tried to talk to a girl again, about seeming like he wasn’t really taking things seriously so the girls he dated also didn’t commit super hard and then lo and behold they think he’s a two-weekends-wonder and wander back off again and leave him by the wayside unless they get bored and circle back, then rinse and repeat.

He knew it was partly his fault, and if he wanted to get taken seriously he should really slow the hell down, and god damn it he was committed to not completely fucking this one up, if nothing else then because any kind of messy breakup was gonna make the next god knew how long out in the desert a real problem.

So he kept his hands to himself as best he could, relying more on bumping elbows or jostling shoulders so she didn’t get the wrong idea, kept the flirting exclusively verbal, and kind of joking even then. 

But also at the end of that actual bar date then she’d kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, and she tasted sugary like whatever those technicolor drinks of hers had been called, and she only jokingly complained about how he tasted like tequila, and she smelled like leather and dust and somewhere under that, vanilla—wait, was she wearing perfume? Had she put on perfume for him? Holy shit.

And they were like, right outside the camper, mostly because she’d had just a little bit of trouble standing up and he wanted to make sure she didn’t fall and eat shit on the way back since he was doing just a little bit better, but he had to remind himself over and over, no, no, take it slow, c’mon idiot, don’t ruin this. And so he inched back, kept just a little more distance, and it didn’t take long before Sniper pulled back and glanced him over, from the hands placed at a nice, respectful point on her waist to how he was visibly trying to reorient himself.

“Sorry, mate,” she said, a little quirk of her lip to indicate a smile. “Too much?”

“Uh,” he said, and was cut off as Sniper leaned in and gave him a parting peck on the mouth, followed by a short one to his cheek. “It’s, uh, fine, just, y’know. You’ve had a lot to drink and all and so have I and, y’know, I don’t wanna rush or nothin’—“

“Sweet of you,” Sniper cut in, and that smile was ticking up just a little further. “But it’s alright if you just don’t feel like more than a date, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, nodding and then processing what she said a second later. “Uh. I had fun! This was good. Great! Kicked ass!”

“Again soon?” Sniper asked. “Not next weekend, got other business to do, but soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally! Uh, I’ll see you around, uh,” he said, and he had to tip up onto his toes to give her a kiss on the cheek, and then he was bumbling his way through a goodbye.

And then he was in his room jerking off to high heaven, muffled into his hand, mind full of mixed drinks and leather and vanilla and quirked lips and desert heat.

He held himself together for two more outings, once more to a pub and once impromptu in the middle of a Sunday to get tacos from a place Scout liked. And he held himself together almost the whole way through another date in the camper—Sniper made it pretty clear that she liked the privacy of it—even though half of it was spent sitting together on her bed, idly drinking soda and beer and talking about nothing in particular.

But then she was leaning in against his side, a warm weight there, and he couldn’t just not kiss her with her that close, and then he felt her fingertips inching below the collar of his shirt, and it was so damn hot in the camper and he reached for his own shirt and glanced at her with “is this okay?” right on the tip of his tongue but she kissed it right out of him and urged his shirt up and off in a moment.

And before he knew it he was lying on his back and she was half-draped over him, practically pinning him down and kissing him until his head spun and his heart thumped and he hoped to god that she wouldn’t feel that he was getting pretty damn hard already.

“Uh, I-I-I uh I don’t wanna uh, assume nothin’ but uh—“ he stammered out when she leaned back briefly, only to shut directly up when he realized she was taking off her shirt and dropping it off to one side, moving back in to kiss at the place below his chin. “Uhhh but y’know uh I wanted to—to ask, uh, can I—?”

Sniper took hold of his hands where they were lying tangled against the sheets and placed them at her now-bare waist, settling back up to kiss him again, a hand carding into his hair.

“Uh yeah okay,” he mumbled against her lips, and tentatively at first his hands wandered, one sliding up her lower back and feeling out the ridges of her spine and the other hesitating around near her ribcage.

Hesitation, trying to just deal with how wildly unexpectedly good she was at kissing when it got down to it, before his hand trailed up farther, farther.

A pause just as his fingertips reached the edge of her bra. He managed to untangle enough to get a breath in, inhaling to ask a question. “Uh so is it okay if I—?” he started to stammer, then she caught hold of his chin, tilting it up to face her. She had an eyebrow raised at him, expression firm.

“Scout,” she deadpanned, and he shut up. “If you start doing something I don’t like, I’ll bloody well tell you. Unclench, mate. I can handle myself. Stop babying me.”

He gulped, nodded, and reached up to cup at one breast firmly.

“Bloody finally,” she sighed, and sank back in to start kissing a line up his neck.

He felt overheated again, cupping and squeezing and just feeling out her torso, namely what was hidden under firm fabric, fixated and aroused. It wasn’t until his fingers slipped on the cup and he pinched just over where he figured a nipple was that he managed to wring a noise out of her, a soft sound in the back of her throat, and it made his whole body thrum. God. Fuck. God. And she tolerated him playing around for quite a while—patience and all—before getting impatient and tugging his hand around to her back, and seemed pleased that he knew how to handle a bra hook without fumbling. And then he got that burst of confidence, and he was using the arm around her waist to haul her up a bit so he could throw his mouth into the mix.

He talked a pretty big game, he knew that. And he also knew that he did exaggerate a little bit about stuff sometimes. Or a lot. Or made things up.

But he really did actually know what he was doing in bed, honest, even if he usually ended up fucking things up outside of the bedroom often enough to ruin it for himself before he even got there.

All he knew was that Sniper seemed to be caught off guard by both the enthusiasm and his ability to figure out how exactly he could make her feel good, where to kiss and where to suck and overall what he needed to do to get more little noises out of her.

He had his free hand a solid distance down the front of her slacks, sliding with purpose against the front of her underwear and idly admiring the heat of her through the fabric before his brain caught up with him, and then he was pulling back a little. “I, uh, I don’t have—uh anything to uh—“

She hummed, lifting his chin and planting a kiss to the corner of his mouth before leaning over to try to fish through a drawer without needing to untangle from him. Impatience took hold of him fast, made his mouth wander across the expanse of her neck, made her fumble and swear and take just a few extra seconds to pull out a strip of foil squares, tearing one off and dropping it on his chest.

By the time he managed to fumble open the wrapper she’d stripped her slacks off and settled back into place straddling his hips, and he choked on air briefly when she settled back further, weight and heat against where his pants had gotten very tight very fast. She had that quirk to her mouth again. His head was spinning. He reached down to pop the button of his pants, pretty sure he was like, going to die otherwise.

And then condom-kitted fingers were teasing at her, and he watched the way his playing and exploration made her face draw up tight, the way breath puffed out of her unevenly, watched her thighs tremble when his thumb drew soft circles just against the nub hidden just a bit further up between soft folds and fuzz and—

She groaned a plead under her breath just before she teetered over the edge, and it made his hips buck involuntarily, which rocked her and sent her back down much harder than before, and she cried out, thighs going tense, and he felt like he’d touched a live wire watching her jolt through it and back down again, jittery and desperate to move but just barely holding himself back.

She panted hard on the way back down, and some of her hair was sticking to her face with sweat, and she blinked down at him after a second, and her eyebrows furrowed after a few moments.

“...Are you holding your breath?” she asked, eyes narrowing, visibly puzzled.

He exhaled and inhaled and the second he had air back in his system his mouth was running a mile a minute. “Yeah sorry I just y’know I was kinda worried I was gonna start just kinda yakkin’ away there and I didn’t wanna like fuck up my concentration or like throw you off or nothin’ because I kinda do that sometimes and it sucks so I really try my best not to fuck it up like that anymore y’know because uh—“

She rolled her eyes lightly at his shenanigans, moving to stretch briefly, taking a deep, satisfied breath.

“—because y’know heat of the moment stuff I kinda end up just goin’ on and on and on about shit and I don’t just mean in like a dirty talk kinda way even though it’s also that too I just mostly mean like in a sorta just rambling about like—

She reached back over to the strip of foil squares, snapping one off and shifting a short ways further down the bed—not that there was much room, but she managed.

“—like just kinda how gorgeous y—people—uh, girls, I meant girls—!”

She raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise let him keep babbling, just pulling his pants and briefs a short way down his legs and ripping open the foil square with the help of her teeth.

“—uh y’know just how fuckin’ good-lookin’ girls will be because like holy shit y’know? And it’s just like y’know I’ve gotten like compLAINTS—“

His voice rose up into a yip for a moment as she rolled the condom on in a swift motion and squeezed on the upstroke, and he swallowed hard to get his voice back to slightly less shaky, needing to glance away, face flushing at the way the noise had made Sniper grin.

“—uh like about me talkin’ way too much so I figured just better safe than sorry and I’ll just shut up to begin with unless I’m like makin’ sure everything is totally kosher but also you told me to shut up about that too and I didn’t w-w-woah, hah—“

He trailed off with a wheeze followed closely by a very embarrasing squeak as she started to sink down, and he promptly clamped a hand up over his mouth to prevent further noises and found that an added benefit his own shutting the hell up meant he could hear the way she hummed, her shaky breath, the soft sound that rose up in the back of her throat when she’d finally settled.

She finally took a short breath, hummed again, and looked down at him. Her face was flushed down to her collarbones, and her freckles faded into that flush, and she had that quirk to her mouth again. She took hold of his wrists, pulling his hand away from his mouth and where it tangled in the sheets, and instead set it against her chest, the other to her waist. “None’a that,” she murmured, and he nodded quickly, and then she shifted her legs, settled her weight, and started to move.

It took all Scout had just to keep his hands from shaking as he stroked at her skin in rhythm with her movement, watching her move with appreciative, hungry, slightly-awed eyes. His thumb rubbed circles around one nipple, and it made his breath catch seeing the way she bit her lip to keep quiet, the way her eyelids fell that much further, feeling her internal muscles fluttering.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he breathed, honestly and enthusiastically, and she looked up at him, and the quirk of her lip seemed almost sheepish and so he continued. “So fuckin’ gorgeous, look at you. You’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Her lip quirked that much further. “No need for the flattery, there,” she breathed back, voice similarly low. “You’ve already in bed with me.”

“Ain’t flattery if it’s true,” he shot back, and squeezed at her breast and made her jolt into a harder motion for a moment. “I’m serious, look at you! I’d sit here and watch this all day if I was allowed, you’re like every painting and sculpture and drawing all rolled up into one, and even then you’re better because those can’t drink me under the goddamn table.”

She huffed a laugh, thrown off her rhythm and falling still for a moment as she grinned down at him as if not entirely sure what to do with him.

“I’m not jokin’!” he insisted, and he was smiling too, even as his breath returned to him. “If I could just sit around with a view like this all the time, it’d totally ruin me. I’d probably sit there until I starved to death and then the last thing I’d ever do was thank you for the fuckin’ privilege.”

“You’re a sap, Scout,” she said, clearly going for a tone of vague disapproval, but she couldn’t quite wipe the smile off of her face.

“Guilty,” he shrugged, and was only a little surprised when she suddenly leaned down to kiss him, and he smoothed hands up her back to hold her there for just a few seconds longer when he thought she was about to pull back away.

“Well,” she murmured, half against his lips, and then sat back up and steadied herself, rolled her shoulders. “Bit refreshing to hear sweet rather than just filth, but either works for me, yeah?”

And she didn’t exactly give him a chance to respond before she was back in motion, so he just nodded again, head falling back briefly.

“God, you feel good,” was all he managed at first, drawing the nail of each thumb down her sides like seams. When that went pretty well, he continued down the outside of her thighs, then back up the inside starting at her knees. “All hot and—and slick—fuck—“

He took hold of her hips and helped support her weight, started rolling his hips along with her rhythm in increasing force until her breath caught alongside every thrust.

“That good, huh?” Sniper asked, and she was grinning again.

“So fuckin’ good,” he agreed, voice dropped, trying hard to keep his head on straight but finding it increasingly difficult.

The room felt sweltering, and the heat alone was making everything spin. That, combined with the heat and weight of another body on top of him—

“Fuck,” he swore again from behind clenched teeth, rhythm faltering as suddenly he felt just a little too close for a moment, and she echoed the sentiment, reaching a hand down between her own thighs, eyebrows all screwed together and thighs trembling. “Wait—“

He brushed her hand aside and found her clit within a moment, rubbing firm circles against her and feeling like the king of the fuckin’ world at the way that made her cry out, rhythm ticking up in speed.

“C’mon,” he urged, and she panted, choked on a moan, and that was it for her, making a series of bitten off noises.

He clenched his teeth and tightened the muscle in his thighs and held on and held on, and only once she was back to limp and out of breath did he slide out and tug himself over the edge. He would’ve been embarrassed about how loud he was as he finished, but it was soothed pretty quickly by the way Sniper settled forward to lay against his side, pressing a brief kiss to his temple and another just below his ear.

“Holy shit,” he breathed in a very unsteady voice, and managed to get his arms to move to lie more comfortably, an arm over her waist. “You’re fuckin’ incredible.”

“Not bad yourself,” Sniper murmured, voice a hum, sounding much more relaxed and much less grumpy than usual.

“Again soon?” he managed, tilting his head towards her.

A hum of affirmation, a pause. “You’re sleeping here, by the way,” she informed him, squeezing with the arm around his chest.

“Hell yeah,” he murmured. “Uh. I wake up kinda early, just so you know.”

She hummed again. “You gonna do the whole nine yards, cook breakfast and all that nonsense?” she mumbled in a deadpan.

“Well usually it’s ‘cuz I go for a run in the morning,” he explained, “but sure, if you want. Got plenty of exercise already, huh?”

A light smack to his flank only made him giggle more, and he felt her shaking her head at him. “Hooligan,” she chided like a term of endearment, and that was when he became certain that he hadn’t fucked everything up.

Well, yet, but he figured if he made it this far, maybe he really did stand a chance.

#//sniperscout #//fem!characters #//tenderness #scout tf2 is a simp #all i could think art when writing this was that one post like #'writes m/f ships but in a distinctly bisexual way' #anyways

[anika-ann]

Cold Feet

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert               Word count: 2643

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Reader

Summary: After two months of dating, you’ve come to a conclusion as exciting as well as a bit irritating: Steve Rogers is a perfect man. He simply has no flaw.

Or does he? 

Warnings:  all the fluff in the world, like one f-bomb and mentions of intercourse

After two months of dating, you came to a conclusion as exciting as well as a bit irritating: Steve Rogers was a perfect man. He simply had no flaw.

It was a little scary, really. Even your meeting was like something from a rom-com.

You had met him by chance when visiting your baby niece who wasn’t a baby anymore to be honest. She was five. But she would always be your baby niece, even when reaching 18, so that was irrelevant.

Your not-so-baby niece Karen had fallen off of monkey bars when playing on the playground and had broken her arm so skilfully that she needed to have surgery, hence staying in hospital for four days; there was no chance you would let her struggle through that without her favourite (read ‘only’) aunt by her side for even of those days.

And on the third day, fate pulled at some of its infamous strings.

As you hummed Karen’s momentarily favourite song under your breath, striding through the hospital halls with three different flavours (or rather colours) of Jell-O, wondering how else you could cheer your pouty cute niece, you rounded the corner.

Walking straight into the most perfect man of all men – as if ‘perfect’ wasn’t already a superlative.

“Whoa!”

The collision was hard, but the landing soft. Crushing into the wall of muscle would have sent you falling on your butt, but a swift hand secured you as it appeared under your shoulder blade, keeping you upright. Two plastic cups slipped from your fingers, landing in his palm covered in fingerless leather glove.

Your eyes snapped up to the face of a man with incredible fast reflexes and your heart jumped to your throat.

Holy shit he’s pretty.

“Sorry. Got it. You alright?”

I just fell in love with a voice. God, his eyes are blue— no, not pure cerulean blue, but holy mother of God, I’m drowning-

“Madam?”

Worry had his brows furrowing and you quickly jumped from his warm grip, gulping. He let you go, those goddamn eyes watching your every move as if he expected you to trip over your own feet, which was a valid concern, actually.

“Sir,” you blurted out in response instinctively at such addressing, your brain finally catching up with your mouth. You scanned him head to toe, realization slapping you in your face. Oh. OH. “Sir. Cap-captain. S-sir.”

You had crushed into Captain freaking America; he even had his shield on his back. You were so going to be deported. Oh boy, you hadn’t even apologized yet.

What the hell was he doing in child’s ward anyway? In a plain boring hospital?

You were proven wrong on your earlier evaluation when the corners of his lips rose, spreading his lips in a brilliant shy smile; he wasn’t pretty. He was prettier.

He wiggled the cups in his hand, holding them out for you. You took them wordlessly, too stunned and embarrassed to talk.

“And just for who these are?” he asked sweetly, genuine curiosity lacing his voice. “Daughter? Son?”

“Karen! I mean— my niece! They are for my niece. Whose name is Karen. I said that already,” you babbled, closing your eyes simultaneously with your mouth.

God, somebody shoot me. Or throw your shield at me, whatever.

Status: still hadn’t apologized to him.

Heavy footsteps had you opening your eyes, only to find the blonde Adonis in uniform still smiling at you, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Cap, you’re supposed to be cheering up kids, not the ladies, no matter how pretty they are,” a man – an Ironman, the Ironman, to be precise, Tony freaking Stark – grunted from behind the soldier, casting a smirk your way.

Now seriously, somebody shoot me, please.

You eyed the Captain, resisting the urge to bite your lip; thank heavens you weren’t the blushing type otherwise you’d be red everywhere. He only looked a bit annoyed with his colleague, his gaze fixed on you. The smile never left his face.

“Why not both?”

And that was it. That was how your life turned upside down, starting with shy smiles, lingering gazes, heart-warming date nights, hesitant hand-holding, tender kisses growing into daring making-out sessions. Comforting hugs, days dedicated to worrying over him coming from god-knew-where in one piece, few nights spent in the medical ward sitting by his bedside, sleep escaping you. Brain mostly on vacation, heart behind the steering wheel.

You were in love. You were so much in love with the amazing man that words didn’t seem like enough to express it. You spent the most amazing two months with him, having nothing – or nearly nothing – to complain about; because even after the rare sleepless night by his bedside, he would wrap you in affection and made you feel like everything was more than okay.

In every conclusion possible, Steve Rogers was perfect. Maybe way too perfect.

And it wasn’t that you felt like less – he showed his adoration for you so clearly you couldn’t but feel special despite being plain ol’ you, because he was perfect like that.

The first time you two made love – there was no calling it differently, because it had nothing to do with fucking and calling it sex might have been anatomically accurate but desperately lacking the sentiment – he nearly worshipped you. You enjoyed it immensely, returning the favour. It was a very long night and perhaps… few times the tender passion did blur the lines and shifted towards the f-word in the best possible way.

It was no wonder that when you woke up on your own after that first night together, checking the time and finding it was only seven a.m. on a Saturday morning, you scooted closer to feel Steve’s sleeping form. Head nestled on his chest (an absent grumble vibrating his ribcage at your disturbance of his dreams), arm sneaking over his waist (causing his own to pull you closer), feet tangling-

You yelped, jerking away from his body so fast you nearly tipped over the edge of your bed. Steve shot up into sitting position, instantly on alert, sharp gaze wiped away of sleepiness in a second, scanning the room for threats.

He clearly found none, settling his confused eyes on you, his shoulders relaxing.

“Whatzit?” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes as if examining you would tell him.

You stared right back at him, unable to form words.

Until you could.

“Your feet are freezing!” you accused him, horrified.

What the hell?! Steve was a walking space-heater. He always enveloped you in his arms when your teeth were clattering, because you wore a dress for a romantic walk through the frozen Central Park in attempt to please his sight. Sure, now his feet slipped from under the covers, sticking out of bed really, because he was freaking tall, but… what the hell?!

He blinked in confusion before an adorable blush coloured his cheeks, already red and creased from the pillow.

“Sorry for that.”

“Sorry for-“ you parroted, dumbstruck, your sleepy brain processing the sensory input of his toes fucking freezing against your feet very slowly. “Is that normal? Are you sick? Aren’t you- aren’t you supposed to be immune to all diseases?”

Steve was literally radiating embarrassment at that point, his fingers working on scrunching the sheets, his eyes glued them as if nothing else on this world mattered.

“I am immune. It’s just… I always had it like that.”

“But your hands are always so warm!” you protested. That usually was the combo, right? People had cold hands and feet, circulation shit – not that Steve had any problem with circulation last night--ugh.

Cold hands usually came together in a package deal with cold feet, period – hell, you knew it yourself on occasion. But Steve…?

Steve grimaced.

“I used you have them cold too,” he admitted, oblivious to the amazement that started to replace your surprise. Oh god. Oh boy. A miracle had happened! Steve Rogers actually had a- “The serum fixed it, but not… uh, not my feet. Usually it’s not an issue, when I’m on the move it’s fine, exercising and-“

He trailed off as if not knowing what else to say to his defence (as if he needed any). Teeth worrying over his lower lip, he glanced up at your face. A smile was spreading on your face and he possibly took it wrong way, because he groaned, falling flat on his back to the cushions and stole your pillow – only to hide his face in it and try to smother himself.

You giggled into your palm, delighted, and got up, your bare feet tapping with each step as you made your way to your cabinet. The choking noise coming from the bed at your action sounded suspiciously like Steve screaming into the pillow.

You contained more laughter, hesitating before making the final decision.

Screw it. You manipulated the item you had come for from the very back of your drawer, closing it gently and went to sit at the end of the bed by Steve’s feet which magically disappeared back under the covers. You reached for the hem of the blanket, but stopped, thinking twice.

“Do not kick me,” you warned him, sneaking your hand into the warmth and lifting the blanket, revealing the source of discussion. Steve honest to god whined – in embarrassment, you assumed – when you touched his left ankle.

You carefully lifted it and rolled one sock on. The soft sensation seemed to give Steve a pause and he peeked at you, rolling the pillow just enough to free his surprised eyes. He didn’t protest though, watching you as you put on the other sock as well with a compassionate smile. He hesitantly lost the pillow completely when you scooted over to sit at his waist.

He wiggled his toes in the fluffy colourful socks to examine them. He was adorable, more so wearing them.

“Thank- thank you,” he whispered, still slightly embarrassed, but not saying a word of complaint. “How are these my size?”

You cleared your throat, for the millionth time since you met him grateful you weren’t the blushing type.

"Because they were for you," you admitted sheepishly, earning a raised eyebrow as he once more looked over the striped red-white sock with a plush reindeer on outer side of his ankles. "As a cute and silly Christmas gift until... uhm, until I figured out the perfect one."

“Oh,” he let out intelligently, causing you to leave your nervousness behind. “Thanks.”

You giggled. “You’re welcome, Steve. They look great on you.”

Adorable. And what more, proving the incredible fact that you had been wrong about him. About him being absolutely perfect.

He pouted then, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You’re enjoying this too much. Why?”

Of course he would notice. You shrugged and stopped fighting the grin attacking your lips, not feeling like denying it.

"You... you actually have a fault," you announced cheerily, which took him aback greatly.

"I have plenty of those," he said matter-of-factly, propping himself on his elbow to be closer to you. You only shrugged again.  

"Possible.” Not quite. “But this... this is just a reminder of you being only human."

Steve tilted his head then, curious about your train of thought. It only proved your previous theory that wasn’t quite right now, not without that one exception; he was curious about you, always listening to what you had to say, patient listener even when you simply rambled.

"You've seen me hurt. That’s pretty human."

You scoffed, chasing the image of him, unconscious, cut, bloody and attached to a heart monitor, away from your mind momentarily.

"Oh, I did. I do not enjoy that despite seeing the wound literally closing in front on my eyes. You're not invincible, apparently,” you noted dryly, causing that little wrinkle to create on his forehead as the guilt for making your worry displayed. You bit your cheek before trying to explain how you felt about this ridiculous discovery about him. “But, you know... that's something... serum-related, Captain America related.”

Judging by the expression on his face, he was still not getting it. You sighed and pointed at the reindeers.

“This? This is personal... intimate somehow? Something I get to know, because I know you, I get to see the tiny flaw-“ you stopped in midsentence, realizing you were babbling more than usual and more importantly, wondering just how uncomfortable this had to make him.“Is it weird? Am I-- I'm being weird, aren't I? Shit. Sorry."

Steve’s nose crinkled at the bad word you used, but he let it pass without comment in favour of a more pressing matter. His face was kind as he opposed you swiftly.

"No! No, it's... I think I understand,” he assured you, something unfamiliar twinkling in his eyes. He smiled then, a soft curve of his lips. “And thank you. It works wonders. It’s… much better."

You only flashed him a brief smile, lowering your gaze. You took a deep breath, only partly comforted by his words. Steve would always let things slide easily, even when you crossed a line you shouldn’t have crossed, said or done something that wasn’t quite appropriate; when you were being your weird self.

It was your turn to fumble with the blanket, self-depreciated, wavering to make one more confession, admitting to your fear, once more oversharing.

"Okay. I’m glad. Uhm… I-- I wouldn't want you to get cold feet," you mumbled, not quite sure if you wanted him to read between the lines and consider cold feet more than bodily reaction to low temperature.

Silence fell on your bedroom, stretching for long enough to wreck your nerves. You clenched your jaw, forcing your fingers to stop moving, which only resulted in you gripping the sheets instead.

Looking down, you only caught a glimpse of Steve straightening, seating himself on his heels. The fingers of his right hand gently threaded into your locks, slipping to cup your cheek, forcing you to lift your chin and meet his gaze.

Steve always seemed too kind to you, appreciating you, cherishing you even, in ways you couldn’t quite comprehend; meeting his eyes now, you saw nothing but pure adoration and a hint of vulnerability, gratitude at your willingness to admit some of your fears.

He had caught the double meaning of your words, there was no doubting that. Seeing none of your timidity resolving, an amused spark twinkled in his eye. He patted his ankle pointedly with his free hand.

"Well, with warm socks like these...” he hummed, his face inching closer to yours as he held his gaze locked with yours. His thumb tenderly caressed your cheek, his lips finally close enough to brush yours for a passing second. Your eyes fluttered shut, revelling at the sensation. God, you were so, so lucky to have this man… “And with such beautiful and caring woman like yourself... how could I?"

You barely had time to sigh in relief when his mouth caught yours in another kiss, this time a proper one, morning breath be damned. His hand on you angled your jaw to deepen the kiss, the other sneaking around your waist and lower to urge you to sit on his lap. You weren’t hesitant to obey, rewarded by a content rumble deep in his chest and a tease of tongue.

Needless to say, the socks came off soon enough. After all, morning exercise would keep you both warm enough. Especially when performed in the bed sheets.

Later and later on, you would find a lot more flaws of Steve’s – involving unbearable stubbornness and recklessness, traits which you sometimes wanted to punch him for –, but this very first you had discovered would always feel special.

Steve never got cold feet ever again. On your wedding day, you were grateful for it more than ever.  

#marvel #captain america #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #fluff #christmas fluff #close enough anyway #cute and cozy #one shot #fanfiction #anika ann

[chillassimagines]

Birthday Sex (Teen Wolf Preference) PART THREE

PARRISH:

“Soo, you don’t wanna role play good cop and criminal this year?” You teased, handing Parrish his warmed tupperware with his lunch inside. He laughed and shook his head at you.

“Work doesn’t turn me on as much anymore, Y/N.” He played along with your joke as he pressed his lips against yours. You sarcastically sighed.

“Guess I’ll have to come up with another plan.” His hand came down from your waist to squeeze your behind slightly.

“You never disappoint.” He whispered in your ear, his tone changing quite fast. Your mouth gaped open momentarily before you shut it.

“You have three more hours on this shift, how am I going to make it?” You asked with a whine. He nodded towards the door to his office.

“Lock the door and you won’t have to wait.” Your mind when from a million things to one, getting Jordan’s pants off. You dashed to the door to lock it and ran back to your husband to engross yourself in his kisses.

“Happy freaking Birthday, Jordan.” You sighed happily as he sat you on top of his desk and pulled your shirt off. He smirked in return and pulled off your pants and your panties were to follow. You paused any further action and took off his shirt. You grabbed onto his back and pulled him close to your body. “I won’t disappoint tonight.” You winked at him, signaling that you came up with something different for when he came home to you. Something changed in his eyes at that.

“If you make it there.” He spoke darkly. Within moments his belt’s thunk sounded, letting you know his pants were removed. It was one of the sexiest sounds your officer could make. Parrish proceeded to cup his hands under your ass and thrust into you. You dug your nails into his skin at the pleasure. His thrusts were calculated and smooth, he dug right into your g spot, knowing that would evoke his favorite girly moans.

“Yes! Right there.” You clenched your legs around his waist, but you weren’t expecting him to lift your body up and walk around his desk to sit in his chair, with your body above him. You had never done something so vulgar in his workplace. He leaned the chair back so it would rest against his desk as his hungry eyes scanned your torso.

“You know how it goes.” He spoke in the same low tone, almost daring you not to start riding him. One hand removed itself from your ass and trailed up to the back of your neck. You began grinding against him, using the desk to balance your movements. The hand on your ass pushed you up and down on top of his growing length. The hand on your neck moved to your hair and pulled on it slightly. Your eyes caught his ass they rolled back into his head.

“Fuck, you look so good, baby.” You moaned out as his hand tangled itself in your thick hair. He pulled even harder, making your eyes meet the ceiling. You yelped when you felt his hand smack your ass.

“Shhh, Y/N.” Jordan warned from below you. You had the overwhelming desire to go faster, because your end would bring so much more pleasure. Your hips stuttered at the thought of cumming. “You wanna go faster?” He knew your ticks.

“Please.” You whined. He removed his guiding hand from your behind and your hair and went to play with your breasts.

“Do it.” He ordered. Your brought your eyes down from the ceiling to watch his face as your skin began clapping against his aggressively. His mouth hung open and his eyes could barely stay open. You loved seeing him so lost in this, compared to when he was lost in frustration of his work. He let out a high pitched whine and thrusted his hips up to meet yours.

“You gonna cum?” You cooed in his ear and kissed his neck. He nodded quickly and forced his eyes to meet yours, through their daze. Within seconds you felt his thumb at your clit. You bit your lip and quickly brought Parrish to his end.

“F-fucking shit.” He grunted, his hands landing on your waist as the feeling of his orgasm shot into you, triggering your own. After you both calmed down you rested your head on his shoulder. You chuckled and rolled your eyes.

“You’re right, I might not make it there.”

THEO:

“You know you want to, Y/N! I mean, just look at him.” Your best friend pointed to the male whom had just exited your pool. Your watched from your sliding glass door as the water cascading from his body accentuated his built figure.

“I can’t! He probably doesn’t even like me like that. People just come to get drunk and high off their asses, the fact that it’s my birthday is just an excuse to do it.” You tore your eyes away from Theo reluctantly. Your best friend took you by your shoulders.

“He’s literally giving you sexy eyes as I speak to you, Y/N. Take this goddamn cover up off and go win you some good dick. You deserve it after everything the whole McCall pack put you through.” You bit your lip in hesitation. You were Deacon’s medical student niece after all and the pack had always stressed you out when your uncle was unavailable. You took a deep breath.

“Okay, fine. I got this, right?” You asked your friend, needing more encouragement. She smiled in satisfaction.

“Hell yeah.” You took off your black silk cover up and handed it to your little hype man. She grinned at you as you opened the sliding door to the backyard. Music flooded your ears and you felt the vibrations in the ground as you walked to the drink table. You grabbed a bottle of Malibu and took a swig of the sweet drink.

“Birthday girl’s getting wilder every second.” You knew it was Theo and you knew he was grinning. Turning to him you caught him looking at your ass, but his eyes quickly drifted to your chest in replace.

“I’d be a terrible example for everyone else if I didn’t. Gotta take risks, right?” You smiled slightly before taking another swig. Theo’s eyes met yours and you felt like you were drowning in the ocean of baby blues.

“Risks are how you truly live.” He spoke in a genuine tone. You held out the bottle to him.

“Cheers to that.” Theo took a swig and walked closer to you, reaching behind you to set the drink down. When he stood straight, you two were very close.

“Mind if I take a risk?”

-

“Lock it, lock it!” You spoke between the kisses Theo brought onto your lips. He turned slightly and locked your door.

“Don’t worry, birthday girl. I only plan to have you for myself tonight.” One hand cupped your cheek and took your bottom lip between his teeth.

“I like when you call me that.” You whispered before untying one of your bikini top’s knots. Theo raised a devilish brow.

“Birthday girl?” You hummed and nodded, moving to the last knot and letting the top drop to the ground.

“Yeah.” Theo’s hungry eyes looked at your bare torso.

“Come here, birthday girl.” He took your hand and motioned for you to sit on the end of your bed. He pushed you softly onto your back by holding your sides. His hands drifted down to your bottoms. He removed them and you couldn’t help but get turned on from how gentle he was being with you. He hadn’t touched you yet. “I can touch you tonight, right?” He made eye contact with you, leaving no room for uncertainty. You nodded. He chuckled and shook his head. “Tonight you’ll learn to use your words. Say it.”

“Yes.” Your body shifted at the tone in his words. He knelt down on the ground, which you hadn’t expected. You leaned against your elbows so you could see what he was doing. He pulled your waist down the bed further, so your heat lined up with his face. Your eyes widened. He noticed.

“I’m going to assume that no one has done what I’m about to do.” You shook your head no and his mouth twitched upward. You forgot.

“I mean, uh, no. No one has.” You spoke sheepishly. His hands gripped your thighs and his thumbs drew circles on your skin.

“What a shame for them. This is my favorite place. You’re going to love this, birthday girl.” He winked and began sucking a hickey on your inner thigh. As the moments went on, you could feel yourself getting more and more turned on by Theo’s word choice and his aura. He was confident and knew his words came with effects. His lips left your hickey and his tongue dragged against the sensitive bruise, making your body shiver. He smiled up at you, making your hand come up and cover your face.

“I’m sorry.” You were as fucking nervous as a virgin.

“Cover your face one more time and I’ll make it permanent. You’ll want to see this, Y/N.” You quickly removed your hand with widened eyes. His threat was spoken with dominating seriousness. His eyes flashed their wolf golden color and you fought not to shiver once more.

“Okay.” You spoke, allowing your body to relax. His head went back to your thighs and you watched as his tongue traced the hickey several times. He enjoyed the shaking of your thighs by his smile. However, the smile wasn’t able to be seen when his mouth encased your clit. He began sucking, nibbling, and pulling on it. “Holy shit.” You squeezed the bed sheets, fighting to thrust against his mouth. His tongue laid against it and moved up and down. You bit your lip and whined.

“Louder.” He ordered and his tongue flicked against you at a fast pace. You couldn’t fight the urge anymore and let your hips buck up.

“Fuck!” You cried out for him. Your shaking thighs threatened to close in on him, but his hands slapped harshly against them before holding them in place.

“I bet your ass jiggles just like them.” He murmured, pausing his actions as he got an idea. “You’re gonna ride my face, birthday girl.” He stood and laid on his back next to you. Your eyes grew wide.

“I, um, I-”

“You’ll move, or I’ll move you.” You licked your lips in nervous habit and sat up. You moved your leg over his chest and looked down at him before moving up closer to his lips. “Just enjoy it. And for fuck’s sake, move, birthday girl.” He smirked before gripping your ass and pressed you down onto his lips. Your sensitive clit made you grind down on him. One of his hands moved yours to his hair. You gripped his hair harshly, which he definitely didn’t expect. But he let out a loud moan into your heat, making you cry out his name.

“Theo, your fingers, I need them.” You begged, continuing your grinding. A moment passed and you felt two of his fingers prodding at your entrance. He definitely felt how wet you were and you knew it. They sunk inside of you with ease and you hummed in pleasure. His hand on your ass came down on it and allowed him to feel it jiggle as much as he said it would.

“Take off my shorts before I cum in them.” He spoke before going back to eating you out. Your eyes widened and you looked behind you to see his hips thrust up into the air, the tent in his swim shorts quite evident. You reached back and slid them down to his ankles. He didn’t ask, but as you faced back to him you left your hands behind you to lean on the bed, and one of your hands wrapped around him. He grunted against you and you smiled as you moved faster for him, both with your hips and your hand. His fingers shot up right into your g spot.

“Fuck!” You cried out. Theo’s moans vibrated against you as he got closer to his end. Before you knew it you felt his cum on your hand. You looked back and watched him finish.

“Watch your pussy cum now. And put those in your mouth, pretty birthday girl.” Theo ordered, making you shoot your head back to him. His tongue flicked against your clit once more as his fingers continued their tummy twisting pleasure. You put your cum covered fingers inside of your mouth, making sure he saw you. He let out a higher pitched moan, that made you absolutely fall head over heels for the man. And it made you fall over the edge as well. You fell next to him shortly after.

“We have to do that again.” You spoke between pants. Theo smiled at you widely.

“Glad you feel the same, birthday girl.”

MALIA:

“Thanks for coming over, babe. This is just so frustrating and I needed a break.” Malia opened the door to her house to you and pressed her lips to yours. Your rubbed her furrowed eyebrows with your thumbs with a smile.

“You need a break from homework, or you’re horny on your birthday?” You asked. Her brows unfurrowed and her lips cracked into a small smile.

“Maybe I was a little bit lonely?” She put her hands up and shrugged. You laughed and shut the door to her house.

“Malia, you know that you’re at risk for not graduating this year?” You tried to lightly say it. She huffed.

“I know.”

“You know that until you do one assignment I’m not touching you, right?” She growled softly and walked up to her room. You couldn’t help but laugh a little, however, as her ass moved in those little sleeping shorts you didn’t think you could help yourself. You knew she wanted to lure you into her trap so she could seduce you as soon as she texted you. You naturally, got a little hot and bothered as well. You didn’t hear her bedroom door shut, so you began your plan.

You discarded your clothes by the stairs and walked up the stairs. At first you wanted to go quietly, but Malia was a freaking coyote and hears everything. You approached her bedroom and she was faced away from you on her computer typing.

“Come to torture me, huh?” She asked, continuing to work. You were so proud at the fact that she didn’t even turn around. However, you remembered that she just wanted to get it done to get down and dirty.

“Or relieve you.” You leaned against the doorway and watched as your girlfriend spun her chair around with a grin.

“Yes!” She cheered and pulled her shorts and shirt off.

“Never thought we’d be the couple that does birthday sex.” Malia pushed you up against the wall.

“I happen to be horny on my birthday. That’s all.” Malia didn’t like the concept of birthdays, but you wanted to celebrate her presence in your life so badly.

“Really horny.” You sighed as Malia’s lips encaptured your breast and her hand played with the other. Your hand trailed down to her heat to do exactly what she liked. “I love you, Malia.”

“Love you too, Y/N.” She paused from her assault and took your hand to toss you onto the bed with her super strength.

“You’re gonna break me one day.” You joked as she parted your knees.

“One can only hope.” She winked and placed her pussy right over yours. You moaned in unison as Malia grinded at a fast pace.

“Fuck.” You sighed and squeezed her ass with your hand, then proceeded to smack it, watching it move and turn pink. “You’re so pretty with a red ass.” You smacked it once more and Malia whined.

“More.” She pushed your knee down so she could arch her ass up in the air. Malia loved that you were obsessed with her behind and always let you do what you desired with it.

“Grind harder.” You ordered and she followed your orders while waiting for you to follow with your intentions. You smacked her ass about six more times before she stopped grinding and took her thumb to rub your clit hard. “Shit! Yes, baby!” You grinded against her thumb while she sucked on the breast she had abandoned earlier. You smacked her behind once more as you came and held onto the flaring red cheek. You ran your finger to her pussy and felt how wet she was.

“Sit up here, Malia.” You gestured for her to sit on your face and she happily obliged. You pressed open mouthed kisses to her heat and poked your tongue out into her hole. You brought your fingers down to her clit and pinched it a few times. Her uneven panting made it apparent that she was close.

“I’m close, Y/N!” She began grinding down onto your tongue as her thighs shook. Soon you felt your girlfriend’s cum hit your tastebuds. You flopped your head back down onto the mattress and stared up at Malia.

“Now get your homework done, birthday lady.”

STILES:

“Why him though?” Lydia asked you. You bit your lip and shrugged.

“I think the wildness turns me on.” Lydia looked at you in disgust.

“That’s called the most annoying anxiety ever! Stiles, is like, overwhelming.” You smirked.

“Nothing I can’t tame.” You laughed when Lydia’s jaw dropped.

“Yanno what? Fine, get it out of your system so I can stop hearing about it.” You shook your head and watched as Stiles walked down the hall to his locker and Scott walked away from him.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to get him out of my system.” You left Lydia to her angry murmuring as you approached Stiles. “Hey.” Stiles closed his locker and jumped when he saw you. You were a lot like Lydia to most of the school, a top dog. So Stiles was rightfully taken aback by your presence.

“Um, hey Y/N. Did you uh-uh need something from me? Or just something? Or like want something?” You thought that his stammering was freaking adorable, but you thought that if he spent enough time with you he’d be able to tone it down. You really did like Stiles...he was truly your type. You didn’t like the big buff guys like Jackson or Theo. You wanted someone rational and someone to balance out your social butterfly lifestyle.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over later? I need some help with Chem.” You leaned against the neighboring locker. You knew you didn’t need his help, because unlike Lydia, you didn’t let on that you didn’t know shit, you were smart.

“You want help? You need help? From me?” His eyes widened. You pointed over your shoulder.

“You know, Lydia’s not the brightest bulb in the school’s hallway, and I figured you paid more attention than I did today.” You painted your nails during Chem today. You knew you’d pass the class without batting an eye, because your last school was really expensive and focused on making their students the next Einstein’s.

“Sure, um, where do you live?” You handed him your phone.

“Put your number in there and I’ll text you the address.” He typed his number in with shaky hands.

“Thanks, Stiles.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek and walked off.

-

“The mitochondria!” Stiles looked at you like you were on crack.

“That’s not an element, Y/N. You know Chemistry isn’t a required class, right?” You smiled at Stiles’ soft expression.

“I’m well aware. I’m also aware that the element would be Bromine. And the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.” Stiles brows furrowed in confusion and you tossed the text book off of the coffee table.

“What-”

“Truth is, Stiles, it’s my birthday today-”

“Happy Birthday! Shit, I didn’t bring anything.” He looked around like he would be able to find something. You grinned at his sweet heart.

“Stiles. I made a birthday wish this morning. I wished that I’d be able to do some things with this boy I like.” You leaned towards him slightly, making your breasts pop out just a bit. His eyes grew wide as he noticed.

“He’s a lucky guy, Y/N.” You sighed and sat up straight. This wasn’t gonna work if you were too out there.

“I think I’d be lucky if he’d like me back.” You said softly. Stiles shook his head with a small smile.

“He’d be nuts not to.”

“Well, that’s good because the boy I want to spend my night with is you, Stiles.” His eyes almost popped out of his head.

“You’re pranking me, okay, I get it. I’ll leave.” Stiles picked up the book and stood up. You stood up and pushed him onto the couch.

“Stiles, I am not pranking you, okay? I’m being honest. You...you turn me on, like, a lot.” You felt your face begin to heat up. “If you let me, we can have a good time together, and maybe spend quality time together.” You took the book out of his hand and let it drop on the coffee table.

“Like, like what?” He asked, stunned at your proposition. You smiled, knowing he was interested. You bent down to his ear.

“Well first, I can start by making friends with someone in your boxers...you’ll find out what you like, I’ll find out how to make you feel good. Then you can cum inside of me, because I’m on birth control. How does that sound?” You backed up to see his face.

“That sounds like it’ll feel good.” You smirked and knelt down on the ground. Your hands undid his jeans button and zipper. There was a tent forming in his pants as you continued. You noticed how tense he was.

“Stiles, relax. It’s gonna feel good, just like you said.” You pulled down his jeans and boxers after he nodded. He was thicker than you might have given him credit for. “Who would have thought?” You whispered before letting your hand wrap around his member. His fists were squeezed hard on his sides. You took your other hand and intertwined your fingers with his. His hand felt right in yours. “I don’t have a gag reflex.” And you took him inside your mouth.

“Sh-shit.” He spoke shakily. You looked up at him as you bobbed your head up and down. His opposite hand came up to your hair cautiously. You moaned against his dick to let him know that you were okay with it. He thrust up into your mouth at the feeling and gripped your hair harshly. You missed the brief feeling of him so far in your throat so you moaned again, and he began steadily bucking his hips up. “You-you like that?” He asked genuinely curious, not even dirty talk. You wanted to smile at him, but you only moaned once more. “I’m so close” He whispered, looking in your eyes. You slowly came off of him, watching your drool cascade down his length.

“Good, because I need you inside of me.” You stood up and straddled his waist. He tensed up once more. You began kissing his neck tenderly. “Relax, baby. Did you like that?” You asked, before nibbling on his ear lobe.

“Yes. A lot.” You smiled happily and kissed his cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” He nodded and you cupped his face and brought your lips together as you moved your panties to the side and sunk down onto him. He let out a long grunt. You broke away from his thick lips and bit your lip. “Watch yourself disappear inside of me, it turns me on a lot.” Lifting your skirt up, you cupped his chin and tilted it down. You both watched as you slowly rose up and down on him. When you lifted up he was coated in your wetness and your pussy took everything he had as you sunk down.

“You’re so hot.” He spoke in amazement. You smiled and took his hands and placed them on your ass.

“Guide me.” You whispered and wrapped your arms around him. You laid your head sideways on his shoulder so you could watch him take your cheeks in his hands and push you up and down how he wanted. He liked his thrusts deep and slow. He dug so deep at one point he ground right into what you now discovered was your g spot. “Ah fuck, Stiles!” You cried quietly and whimpered as he ground against it again.

“You’re so tight, I’m gonna cum.” He whispered back to you. You began riding him faster, regardless of what his hands decided.

“Cum in me, Stiles. Come on.” You begged him as you purposely clenched around him numerous times. He let out another long grunt as you felt his cum fill you up. The sensation made you fall to your orgasm as well. “You’re so good, you’re so good.” You whimpered against his lips as you rode out your orgasm. When you finally stopped your put your hand against his cheek.

“Best birthday sex ever.” Stiles nuzzled his face into your hand and you fell in love immediately.

“Thank you.” You shook your head.

“No, thank you.”

PART ONE: https://chillassimagines.tumblr.com/post/176975393682/part-one-requested-liam-finally-it-was-your

PART TWO: https://chillassimagines.tumblr.com/post/177544626507/requested-scott-scott-get-up-scott-you

#imagines #preferences #teen wolf #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski smut #malia tate #malia tate smut #jordan parrish imagines #jordan parrish smut #theo raeken smut #theo raeken #teen wolf smut #chillassimagines

[kenzieam]

About Last Night - Chapter One

@jewels2876​​​​​​​​​  @moonbeambucky​​​​​​​​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​​​​​​​  @iammarylastar​​​​​​​​​@captstefanbrandt​​​​​​​​​  @badassbaker​​​​​​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​​​​​​  

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut, major angst, drama

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FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL!

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Lev wakes up the morning after a wild night at the Compound and realizes she hasn’t spent the night alone. The fact that the man unconscious beside her is her most trusted teammate is besides the point, he’s also her best friend and

NOW WHAT THE FUCK DOES SHE DO???

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What the hell?

Where am I?

Lev groaned as she opened her eyes and immediately regretted it, closing them with a wince. It had been a long time since she’d felt like this, but even this was different from her average battle wounds and training injuries. She felt almost…

Hungover.

What the everlasting fuck?

Since becoming the newest HYDRA experiment enhanced by serum to be discovered and released from imprisonment, Lev had not suffered so pedestrian a sensation as being hungover. Her body simply did not get sick from excessive alcohol anymore, something that had been both a blessing and curse since the Avengers had found her half-alive and more than three-quarters feral in that underground bunker a few years ago.

What the hell had changed?

Wait…. Loki.

The golden god Thor and his emo brother were here, at the compound and last night, while starting innocently enough, had devolved quite quickly into a hazy mess. At least Tony had perfected that concussion shield thingy he’d been bragging about that could contain most of the lightning bolts Thor tended to throw when pickled.

All Lev could remember was Loki pouring the drinks, a strange, secret little smile on his aristocratic face and Lev hadn’t found it in herself to question her growing vertigo.

Christ, if she’d gotten drunk then Steve and Bucky had too and even Thor for that matter, for the only thing that Lev knew of that could induce drunkenness in a serum-enhanced man or god-like creature was Asgardian Mead, a hearty supply of which the trickster god was more than capable of conjuring with his seemingly unlimited magic.

Shit.

What the hell did I do last night?

A new sensation hit her then, bringing with it a queasy realization.

Oh God. Not what but WHO?

A tender ache between her legs, and a thick stickiness. She’d had sex, a lot of it with someone genetically gifted in the size department and hadn’t bothered with a condom.

Oh, holy Jesus.

Was the other person still here? As her senses returned Lev recognized her own room and bed, thank god, but the identity of her partner remained fuzzy.

Muscular arms, bracing on either side of my head, supernatural, soulful eyes boring into me as he thrusts, each driving snap of his hips bringing me closer and closer to ecstasy. Oh god, the beautiful, primal sounds he made-

Lev turned her head, squinting, the pounding behind her eyes a jackhammer of agony.

When she found Loki…. She wouldn’t stop kicking his ass until HER foot was sore.

Her bed mate lay face down, arms shoved underneath the pillow his head rested on, face turned away, his breaths heavy and regular, still deeply asleep.

For the moment Lev’s breakdown was hers and hers alone.

The sheets were tangled and low, exposing a perfect ass and there was only one man in the compound who possessed that behind, that level of raw musculature and that soft chocolate-brown hair currently splayed across her other pillow.

She didn’t even need to see his most distinguishing feature.

She had just woken up after a night of wild, drunken sex with none other than her best friend and teammate, James Buchanan Barnes.

No.

NO.

She needed to get the hell out of here, before Bucky woke up too and started asking questions that she had no answer for, like ‘what happened?’ and ‘what do we do now?’. Rusty machinery screeched and grated in her head as she moved, made moderately better by squeezing her eyes shut as tight as she could but that only ensured she stubbed her toe on the doorframe, biting back a hiss of pain but it was too late, her surprise lover was inhaling sharply, stretching with a groan like he was waking up and Lev cursed under her breath, slamming the bathroom door shut and locking it.

Christ.

How did you continue to work with and train with a man who’d been inside you? How could you grapple and spar on the training mats when your body remembered the way his weight felt on you another time? Remembered the groans and curses that had fallen from his sinful lips, the way those lips had tasted?

Oh god.

Spinning the shower to its hottest setting, Lev escaped under the spray, desperately scrubbing at her skin to erase any trace of her actions, any hint of Bucky’s mark. She winced as she felt his seed dripping from her, trickling thickly down her thighs. Bruce figured that between the serum and years of cryofreeze that Bucky was effectively sterile, but what if he was wrong? Shit, Lev needed to hightail it down to medical for some type of enhanced morning after pill.

Goddammit.

She’d been so careful!

Three years with the team and she’d never done shit like this before!

The worst thing was she couldn’t stay under the spray forever, while Tony’s plumbing was too good to do anything plebeian like run out of hot water, she just couldn’t hide here all day, she couldn’t live the rest of her life in her goddamn bathroom.

But surely, she’d been in here long enough for Bucky to leave.

Wrapping herself in towels, Lev cracked the door and peeked out into her quarters.

Shit, double SHIT!

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, waiting and as he raised his head, their eyes locked.

He smiled at her, something sparkling in his eyes and Lev frowned in confusion. How the hell was he smiling and looking so fresh and not hungover. Didn’t his head throb too? Didn’t he feel like he’d been run over by a truck?

His smile faltered then disappeared, forehead creasing, something vulnerable falling over his face. Lev turned and marched to her dresser; it was infinitely easier to speak when she didn’t have to look at him.

“Lev…. About last night-”

“It was a mistake.” She replied curtly, ripping open a drawer.

“A mistake?”

“We were drunk,” she continued, slamming that drawer, yanking open another. “It’s nobody’s fault, except maybe Loki’s, and I’m going to kill him when I find him. Just forget about what happened, it’ll never happen again.” Lev forced the words, managing to sound almost breezy then turned to face Bucky again.

He was watching her with sad, wounded eyes, forehead furrowed in confusion and hurt. Seeing her gaze land back on him he forced a blank face and stood abruptly, his nod so brusque it was almost a jerk.

“Right.” He turned sharply, striding to the door then paused, his fingers curling against the wood. He was breathing heavily and when he glanced over at Lev one more time he finally looked hungover, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with confused pain.

A pang hit Lev, this was a wounded look she’d had only seen on his face during his lowest and most traumatized flashbacks to HYDRA, when the nightmares woke him up screaming in the dark and he struggled for hours later to sort through the tangles, piece together what was reality and what was only a anguished memory.

It looked like something he’d held close and dear and necessary had been ripped from him, but that made no sense. They’d made a mistake, gotten drunk and done something they shouldn’t have, Lev was just laying it all out to get it out of the way, so they could move past this and hopefully continue on as friends.

Shit, she would never forgive herself if her own weaknesses, her own stupidity last night by continuing to party had wrecked her best and most important friendship.

Bucky had been the first one to reach her, the first one to crack through the feral shell that had kept her isolated from the team. He had been the one to see and touch the damaged girl underneath, share his misery and experience in a way that let her see she wasn’t alone, that there was a way out of the darkness and she would forever be grateful to him for that kindness; for cracking open his own chest to show her the devastation inside, to teach her that within her own abyss was the strength she needed to beat what HYDRA had done, the skills and grit to let go of the horrors and pain, because he struggled with the same thing, every fucking day, and still managed to get out of bed and face it.

If she’d lost that by giving into some alcohol-fueled lust, she would hate herself more deeply and viciously than she ever had before.

“Bucky, wait.” She called, immediately cursing her tongue, for what could she say right now that wouldn’t mortify them any further?

He paused, eyes focused on the floor, still breathing heavily. He sniffled once. “Yeah?” There was a note in his voice Lev rarely heard from him, a low type of vulnerable plaintiveness, like when he’d been torn awake by a night terror and was now clinging to Lev, begging her to talk him back to the here and now.

Her nerve failed her, she was going to ask if he wanted to train later but it was a blatant attempt to force normalcy, and an embarrassing one at that. And she didn’t feel good, she wanted to burrow under a blanket until this festering hangover slunk away, not sweat and exert herself down in the gym. “N- nothing.”

For a beat, his eyes met hers again and he looked like a betrayed little boy, confused and bewildered by the turn of events, by someone he’d trusted ripping the rug out from under him.

It made no sense, for him to look at her that way, unless he blamed her for the mess that they were in, blamed her for getting shitfaced and losing control and that’s exactly what she’d been trying to avoid by dismissing their night together, letting him know right away that it was a mistake they could both let go of, that she was just as willing to forget it as he was…. so why did he look so anguished?

Her head hurt too much right now to think about it any further. The longer Bucky stood there, the more she felt this strange, inexplicable crawling guilt and shame and she couldn’t find the words to take that look off his face.

Without another word, Bucky left, the sound of the door closing a thunderclap in the dead air and Lev collapsed to sit on the bed, a wave of unexplained misery washing over her.

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Despite her efforts, blessed oblivion would not come and Lev lingered for the next few hours with a nameless dread, a sense that something had gone horribly awry but with no idea of exactly what.

Yes, she’d made a horrible mistake by sleeping with Bucky, but she’d cleared that up, right? Laid it out and Bucky had agreed, hadn’t he? He’d looked absolutely horrible when they’d talked, but they were both hungover.

He didn’t want to mess up their relationship anymore than she did and bringing feelings into it would definitely wreck their friendship. Love had a habit of doing that, love was what had driven her mother insane, love for a man who didn’t love her back, who enjoyed playing with her mind and body but ultimately skipped out when she started to become too much work and in retaliation, her mother had slashed her wrists. Her last screams, even as a teenaged Lev, who’d discovered her and worked feverishly to stop the rivers of blood streaming from her mother’s forearms, were aimed at her lover, the words ‘Is this what you wanted?! Is this what you wanted?! Are you happy now?!’ echoing in Lev’s nightmares for years to come.

Her father had taken her in after that, the man who’d watched passively from a distance as his ex-wife tore herself apart for the man she’d left him for but the damage had been done. Before her mother’s blood had even dried on her skin she’d vowed to never let something so evil and poisonous as love to infect her, ever.

Friendships were dangerous enough, but there was something about love, the total giving of your mind, body and soul that Lev could no longer risk, the chance that your own psyche would become so linked to the other that to separate meant death for the one who’d been foolish enough to go all in in the first place.

And shit, she’d had a good friendship with Bucky, he’d maintained a distance with her, unseen by everyone else, who considered them joined at the hip, but enough to keep Lev’s boundaries, her set demarcations of what she would… and could accept.

He’d never tried anything so stupid like kiss her or ask her out on a date; when they held hands it was with easy camaraderie, a causal affection and the times Lev caught herself gazing covertly at him, wondering what his lips tasted like were just signs of her own weakness, a brittleness inherited from her damaged mother, a deficient gene in her DNA.

And then she’d had to get drunk and fuck him.

Fuck.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts and, for a breathless second, she both wished it was Bucky and anyone but Bucky.

“Come in?”

The door opened and Steve poked his head in. Although he looked a little green around the gills as well, the lines in his forehead were of worry. “Hey, haven’t seen you all day…. You alright?”

Lev grimaced, debating whether to spill her acrid guts or not. “Hungover, you?”

Steve groaned, dropping his head. “I’m never drinking again.”

“I’m never letting Loki pour my drinks again.” Lev clarified and Steve shot a finger gun at her without raising his head.

“Buck in here?” The blonde continued and Lev’s skin prickled.

“No. Why?”

If Steve noticed that her answer was too fast, he gave no sign and, sick as he was, he probably hadn’t anyway. “Haven’t seen him all day and you two looked pretty tight last night.” A little grin pulled at his lips as he invited himself into the room, shutting the door behind him. Lev scooted over with a grumble and he collapsed on the bed beside her, jostling her and making her stomach roil queasily.

“Don’t,” she mumbled, grabbing her head.

“Sorry,” he mumbled back then exhaled, seeming to centre himself before continuing. “Yeah, you two were getting a little cozy, did anything happen?”

“No!”

Steve raised a brow and Lev hurtled forwards.

“I mean, no, of course not. We’re friends, Steve.”

“Hmmm.”

“What?”

“The way he was looking at you last night says different.”

“Oh, fuck off, Rogers!”

“Language.”

“Fuck that!”

Steve snorted, shaking his head. “Alright, whatever. You know you can talk to me though, right? Anything that’s bugging you, I’m here.”

Whoa. This wasn’t the first time Steve had played big brother, but Lev could not handle that shit now.

“Steve, I’m fine. Bucky and I are fine, I’m just sick as a dog from that little Nordic prick last night fucking with our drinks. Buck’s probably crawled in a hole somewhere feeling the same damn thing.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, probably.” He stood with a huff. “I’ll let you sleep it off.”

“’Kay, thanks.” Lev replied, watching as he left, grateful he hadn’t pushed.

Steve nodded in return, opening the door, and stepping outside. Bucky was further down the hall and seeing Steve, stopped his approach to Lev’s door. His eyes widened, darkening with something like betrayal, and then he was storming away.

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Lev dropped the weight with a bang, exhaling heavily and pushing a chunk of sweaty hair off her forehead. Where the hell was Bucky? They always worked out together, encouraging and competing in a friendly manner to push each other higher and further but, for the last week, the former assassin had been MIA.

For the first few days Lev had been able to shrug it off as a lingering hangover, but Bucky had continued to avoid her in the gym and, to be honest…. everywhere. She was lucky now to catch fleeting glimpses of the man she used to spend hours with a day, just a free random encounters in the common room, with the big man disappearing before she could open her mouth to speak to him, to ask what was going on.

But she knew what was up.

Damn her, now she saw, and she hated her previous blindness.

This past week’s famine had clarified her thoughts, and her hunger. She missed Bucky, and not just as a friend. Something had shifted in her that last night, as Bucky had moved so sinuously inside her, holding her like his most cherished gift, or maybe had even broken free before that but she hadn’t had the guts to face it and… she missed him.

She missed his smile, his warmth, his presence, the way he seemed to sense her impending anxieties and could calm them, distract her and draw her away from that hateful, swirling abyss inside her. Without his guidance this last seven days, she was struggling, close to drowning at times.

And it was so much more than that.

She’d known the reason behind his smile that morning, the sparkle in his eyes, because the same joy and hope had embraced her heart, warmed her soul.

And scared the shit out of her.

So, she’d deflected, ducked, jabbed and redirected. Plunged into a near maniacal rebuttal, a deliberately obtuse rambling about mistakes, and forgetting; not letting this lapse tear their friendship apart.

But it hadn’t torn anything apart, it had opened up new facets inside her, thrown open doors she’d slammed years ago and she’d never been more terrified, for even as her heart had called for him that morning, the echoes of her mother’s crazed screams had played a gruesome melody in the back of her mind.

You couldn’t fall in love. It was dangerous, it was self-destructive.

And yet she’d gone and done just that, shared a magical night with her best friend and fallen hard, opening the door to what had honestly been knocking from the start, masquerading as close friendship but just biding its time, waiting to fully ensnare her heart.

She didn’t know what to do. Her sabotage had worked, Bucky hadn’t tried to pursue anything, and she wished with everything she had to take it all back.

She was such a fucking idiot and if she’d wrecked her chances with Bucky forever, she deserved the misery, but god did it hurt.

Tonight, she would talk to him tonight. Corner him in the common room and make him listen to her, force him to pay attention to her apology and then beg for his forgiveness. It was the perfect opportunity, tonight was the night the team all sat down to dinner together, one big happy family and he wouldn’t be able to hide from her.

She hadn’t let herself realize before how empty her heart was, hadn’t turned to face the ghost that had stalked her ever since it had climbed from her mother’s corpse and the void threatened to suffocate her now that she’d allowed herself to see it.

With new purpose, Lev set the weight back and hurried up the stairs to her quarters.

Bucky didn’t show until it was time to sit down and eat. Lev heard his voice from inside the kitchen and hurried out with the dish in her hand, ready to throw it on the table and pull him away so she could bare her heart and confess the truth, but ended up almost dropping the plate instead.

He was not alone.

She clung to him almost nervously, or maybe star-struck, watching the assorted teammates moving around and looking like normal people, bantering and laughing and bickering like they weren’t Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Lev immediately resented her hand on Bucky’s chest, her hip bumped against his, her head resting in that little cradle of his shoulder, feeling the comforting weight of his arm around her.

Bucky’s new friend was blonde and tall and gorgeous, and Lev instantly felt like a troll compared to her. A supermodel standing next to a ragamuffin, a brat with a wild mane and weird violet eyes daring to share the same air with haute couture.

Bucky’s eyes drifted to hers and, for the briefest moment, he looked uncomfortable, maybe even…. sad, then his face changed, going expressionless in a way Lev had never seen before, dismissing her like so much garbage and she stumbled, managing to set the dish down without breaking it.

Blood rushed through her ears as everyone gathered, as her teammates commented on the newest guest, smiling and offering their hands when Bucky introduced them, no one seeming to notice Lev, pale and adrift among them.

She offered a nod and shaky smile when Bucky, almost as an afterthought, finally introduced her as well to Lilly, his girlfriend. Was it Lev’s imagination, or was his voice almost defiant, bordering on savage when he addressed her? Almost a ‘choke on this’ tinge in his tone?

There was a brief silence, a few nervous clearings of throats, telling Lev she hadn’t invented his truculence, but then the moment had passed, the team diving back in, sparing any further discomfort and Lev faded into the background, taking a seat not far enough away from the new couple, struggling to maintain at least the semblance of self-possession as the dinner commenced.

Lev forced herself to choke down her food as she listened to her teammates around her, talking and laughing and asking Lilly question after question, ‘how had she met Bucky?’, ‘what did she do for a job?’, ‘ had she sucked Bucky’s cock yet?’.

Okay, no one had asked the last one, but it floated nastily through Lev’s mind as her shock began to give way to anger.

What the fuck?

A week after spending the night with her he was bringing some new girl around? He’d moved on? The possibility terrified Lev and with it came indignance and rage.

What the hell was he doing? Her mind growled, and she forced her hand to let go of the fork in her hand before she bent it.

Moving on, her inner voice replied, the one that liked to whisper from the darkest corners of her mind about how useless and pathetic she was, just like you wanted him to.

But I didn’t! Not really….

Too late, sugar. He’s found someone else.

No. NO.

And there’s nothing you can do about it, her mind sneered.

#au bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #au bucky #au bucky barnes fanfic #au bucky barnes fanfiction #au bucky barnes angst #bucky and lev #bucky and levi #bucky barnes drama #bucky the morning after #bucky mixed signals

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

HAIKYUU IS BACK AND SO HERE I AM 

listen folks, season 4 has come. my crops are flourishing, my skin is clear, i’ve been revived. i cried and watched the opening 4 times, i’ve watched the episodes 3x now. Kuroo has always owned me and bITCH he still does. 

as usual, i have no shame, so have this professor Kuroo x  grad student reader that turned surprisingly angsty (my heart is so full with s4 that idk how it ended that way). i dont even care how cliche this is, im so weak for stuff like this. also i have no idea if this field is even a thing but i dont care 

warnings: suggestive nsfw, angst 

will there be a part 2? who knows 😉 (spoiler, there is...and three and four)

as usual, 💖 J

~

You weren’t exactly sure what you were expecting what your faculty member that you’d be working with for your graduate career to be like, but it had been more along the lines of: crotchety old man, white hair, still sporting tweed suit jackets from the seventies. It definitely never crossed your mind that a young man, probably around your age, you’d guess a bit older since he was already a faculty member, would greet you on your first day.

You also weren’t expecting him to be fucking drop dead gorgeous—and you mean ovary melting, cliché totally swooning material. Never in your life have you felt so nervous around a person before. It really wasn’t fair in the slightest. And on top of it all, he was amiable. The two of you got along swimmingly, half in part to how close you are in age and the other half since you’re both mad about biotechnology.

You tried. You really did. Tried not to develop a crush on him. But the more you got to know him, the more days spent together, you felt yourself falling deeper and deeper because it wasn’t just about looks anymore. You liked him. A lot too. You can’t even explain why. You learned rather quickly he’s no lady killer like he’s looks suggested—oh no. He’s the biggest dork you’ve ever met.  And now you’re head over heels with no hope of going back. It was a rather futile attempt to resist it.

Sitting at your desk, you rub your hands over your face trying to get those thoughts out of your head. Or at least shove them to the far depths of your brain so you can continue to act like everything is fine and not like your heart is going to overwork itself anytime he’s anywhere near you. And god—was that getting increasingly difficult. With your first year ending and presenting your research at the National Biotech Conference coming up, the two of you have been spending more and more late nights in the lab together. Alone.

You might as well dig your grave now.

Just a few nights ago the night ended early because he set off the fire alarm making a hot pocket. The two of you too enamored with the project to notice the microwave on the verge of combusting. Why the hell he put it in there for five minutes was beyond you, but he tried to explain that he was planning on taking it out before the timer ran out. The memory of it makes the corner of your mouth quirk upward.

“You bored out of your mind already?” A voice teases from behind you, making you to jolt in your seat.

Speak of the devil.

You turn in your chair to find none other than the root of your problems: Dr. Kuroo. Jesus fuck you can barely look straight at him without feeling some sort of nerves ball up in your stomach.

Giving him a weak smile, you say, “Those all-nighters are really getting the best of me.”

His eyes soften and christ—you need medical help to deal with the way your heart is stuttering in your chest. By the end of this conversation you’re going to need a defibrillator with the way he smiles at you sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Riiiight. About those….” He avoids your gaze and you already know what’s coming.

“Another one tonight?”

He sighs. “Yeah. Sorry about that. We’re just really down to the wire now. I want to make sure everything is set.”

You wave him off, there’s nothing to apologize for. You knew what you were getting into here. And you know it’s only his second conference as a distinguished member of the community, so he has a standard to uphold.

A startled gasp escapes you when his voice appears right next to your goddamn ear, his warm breath against your skin practically sending you into a frenzy. “You working on the statistics?” The nod you give him is almost imperceptible, afraid any movements from you are going to give away how his proximity is making you feel. His eyes scan your screen before patting you on the shoulder. “Looks good so far, send it to me when you’re done.”

You let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding when he moves away.

How the fuck are you going to survive the next year?

Hell—how are you going to survive a week-long convention with him?

As he heads back to his own desk, Kuroo glances warily around the office to make note of any suspicious onlookers. It’s been harder and harder to keep that professional line with you, and every public conversation you shared he was highly aware to not slip into his easy mannerisms he found himself indulging in during all those late nights. Because fuck him—he liked you. Why did he of all the options get assigned the one graduate student who is his age and is fucking gorgeous on top of your academic prowess?

He never stood a chance.

He is barreling straight towards an academic violation at full speed and his brakes are broken. That’s how bad it is.

But goddamn he can keep it in his pants for the sake of his job and your career.

That sentiment went to shit that night.

You’re late, which almost never happens. He can count on one hand the times you’ve been late. And you always texted him with your ETA and an explanation but tonight…silence. He knows you haven’t left, he saw you a little over an hour ago speaking to Dr. Yu, and a quick trip to your desk confirms it; all your stuff is still here.

He’s lucky to catch Dr. Yu on his way out, asking if he knows of your whereabouts. “You haven’t seen her?” His brows lift. “Must’ve gotten caught up in the library. Said she was going to stop by there before your meeting.”

Kuroo does an excellent job of hiding his confusion. Meeting? Is that what you’ve been disguising your all-nighters with him as to your colleagues?

That means you feel there’s a reason to keep it a secret.

Or is he reading too far into it?

Nonetheless, he strides towards the library, irked to find most of the lights off and it utterly silent inside. He checks the table area first, then peruses the shelf, peeking down each to see if you’re actually in here. It’s likely you already left and are now waiting for him in the lab in the time since he’s begun looking for you.

He finds you in one of the farthest corners of the library and it isn’t until he approaches you does he realize the situation he’s just put the two of you in.

Alone.

In the dark library.

You’re sat deep into an armchair, legs curled up underneath you, head resting on your hand while you flip through the pages of a book sitting in your lap. You look so picturesque he can’t help but stare for a few seconds before clearing his throat to alert you to his presence.

He scares the absolute shit out of you.

Leaping out of the chair, the book clattering to the floor, you shout, “Holy fu—Dr. Kuroo! You can’t just do that!” Then you blink, like your brain is catching up to you, then you frantically check your watch and outwardly groan. “I knew I should have set an alarm. Sorry, just lost track of time back here.” Smirking softly, he takes a step forward, bending to pick up the book sprawled on the floor. He hands it to you, your fingertips brushing his, a jolt of lightning spearing through you at the contact.

Every sense of yours is filled with his presence, your head clouded with thoughts of what if you just…closed that gap. What would happen if you took just one step forward? Would he let you run your hands over his chest, snaking around his neck to tangle into his dark hair? What would it feel like to press your body against his?

Holy hell—you need to get out of here.

It’s then that you realize you’ve been staring at him.

And that he’s holding your gaze, his golden eyes locked onto yours. The air is so charged you feel like your entire body is buzzing, urging you to indulge in the thoughts swirling in your head. You open your mouth to break the silence, grasping at any sense of logic you have left to end this dangerously tempting situation.

Kuroo’s last strand of self-control splintered the moment he caught you staring at him so intently. The same thoughts weaving through his head as yours, the fantasy he’s had for months now of holding you against him, his lips pressed to yours, is so tantalizingly close he can barely stand it.

So, he comes to decision. Before this opportunity eludes him, he has to act now. He watches as your mouth opens, your better judgement clearly still intact, and before you can get a word out, he leans down to kiss you. His hands finding their way to your waist, tugging you to him, he’s pleasantly delighted to find you sink into him. Your own hands reaching up to curl into his shirt, soft mouth moving against his own, he almost groans at how you’re reacting to him.

He’s intoxicating, the way his fingers are digging into the skin of your waist, how his tongue slips into your mouth, you can barely keep your feet underneath you. What’s even more exhilarating to you is that he initiated this.

He wanted you too.

The thought makes you a bit dizzy.

When he feels your hands travel from his collar to slip your fingers through his hair, this time he can’t help it, a deep pleased sound escaping him, rumbling through your entire body and sending heat straight to your core. Jesus Christ this man his going to be the absolute death of you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his hands roam from your waist to cup your ass, using the leverage to press you even closer to him, letting you feel just what exactly you’re doing to him. All he can think is that he wants more, he wants you underneath him, chest heaving, moaning his name and no one else’s. With that on his mind, he splays his fingers out underneath your thighs, intending on lifting your legs around him.

The action turns your brain back on, the gears working hard through the haze clouding your mind, realizing where exactly this is going. Your sense of reason finally coming through, screaming: Stop! What the fuck are you doing?! Instinctively, you shove him away from you.

He blinks in surprise as he stumbles back into the bookshelf, thrown off by your sudden rejection.

Your heart crumbles seeing his hurt expression. It’s no use denying it anymore. You want him. So bad that you were this close to throwing all caution to the wind just now. But you can’t, not under the circumstances. He is your colleague. Your superior. What the hell were you thinking?!

Steeling your resolve, you say quietly, “Kuroo…I—That…that shouldn’t have happened.”

You can’t even look at him, too afraid of what will happen if you do.

He knows you’re lying.

He stares at you for a moment, considering all his options. Truly, he’d like to just gather you up in his arms, assuring you everything will be fine, and kissing your worries away until you melt beneath him again. But he knows that’s crossing the line. Instead, he settles on making his feelings clear. He wants you to know where he stands. He doesn’t want you to think what just happened meant nothing to him. But he’s willing to give you space to put your thoughts together.

“I need you to look at me,” he says.

You bite your lip. “I can’t.” Now your throat feels tight with the effort of keeping tears at bay. Why is it like this? Why did you have to meet him in this way? He says your name like a command, so you ball your fists in determination and raise your watery eyes to meet his.

With such surety and resolve it just about makes you burst into tears, he tells you clearly, “I’m so head over heels for you it’s not even funny.”

He’s right, this isn’t funny. It’s anything but. And he’s making it worse by being so goddamn perfect you want to scream. The universe must really be a bitch for putting you through this, making you fall in love with someone who is so off limits. You can feel your heart wilting within your chest as you plead, “I need to leave.”

He lets you go, despite every instinct telling him not to. He spends the night in the lab alone, barely getting anything done through his ever-present thoughts of you. He tries to remain hopeful, that somehow this will all work out. That on Monday you’ll come to work, and everything will be alright.

Monday morning, he finds out you’ve put in a request to join a separate project.

He doesn’t know what to do with the growing hole forming in his chest.

And neither do you.

~

part two part three part four 

#kuroo x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyu #Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou scenario #kuroo tetsurou imagine #reader insert

[imagining-supernatural]

What Happens in Vegas...

Part 1 of Seventy Percent 

Series Summary:  When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: You wake up in Vegas with a brand new wedding ring on your finger next to Sebastian Stan

Word Count: 1641

A/N: I am super excited about this series! And it’s completely written (except maybe an epilogue), so I won’t leave you hanging when writer’s block hits. 

What was a Vegas weekend without waking with a major hangover and a random naked guy next to you?

Ideal. That’s what that would be.

Yet, here you were. Hungover as hell. With a naked guy next to you. In your hotel room. So you couldn’t even sneak out.

Not Ideal.

Aw well. This was your last Vegas weekend ever, so you might as well go out with a bang.

The form beside you groaned and shifted until you could see his face.

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed, prompting him to squint at you, slowly waking up. It didn’t take long for his blue eyes to open. Eyes you’d only seen on the big screen. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

“Who are you?” He shot back, voice still scratchy with slumber.

“This is my hotel room so I think my question should get answered first.” Sitting up, you pulled the sheet up to your chin. It was pretty obvious what had happened last night, but if he was even half as drunk as you had been, he wouldn’t remember. So… there was no need to flash your assets.

Sebastian Stan – yes, the Sebastian Stan – looked around for a moment before his thoughts were gathered enough. “I… don’t remember. I mean, I think I remember you from a club? But the rest of the night is blurry.”

“Yeah. I’m dealing with a lot of different kinds of headaches right now.” As soon as he left, you were going to dig out your medication and down a pill or two. You must have forgotten to take your pills last night.

His eyes widened when he looked at your hands holding the sheet up to cover your body. “You’re married? Fuck, how did I not notice that last night. I—shit.”

“Married? I’m sure as shit not—” Now it was your turn to ogle the giant ring on your left hand. “Wait a goddamn minute.”

The look of disbelief he was giving you sent your mind into hyper drive. “You’re saying that we…”

“Not necessarily. I mean, maybe it’s just a ring, you know? Maybe, shit I don’t know. Maybe it’s fake and we won it from one of those machines where you put a quarter in and twist the knob and you get a toy, you know?” By this point, you weren’t talking to Sebastian anymore. You were muttering to yourself, trying to calm the fuck down. And, for the record, when you tapped the diamond you knew it definitely wasn’t plastic. There was still the hope it was fake. Glass or something…

“And even if we did have a ceremony, that doesn’t mean it’s legal, right? Like, there have to be documents filed with the state and shit. I feel like I would have remembered that. But if we did file those, we’re in Vegas! The town that probably processes more annulments than any other city. It can’t be that hard. We’ll sign some papers at the courthouse and bam! No more marriage, no legal financial obligations when I die. I mean, this isn’t how I expected to end my weekend, but whatever, it’s an adventure. Something to tell my fri—”

“What do you mean, when you die?” he interrupted, latching onto the one part of your blabbing that you definitely hadn’t meant to say aloud. “You got plans to get in an accident or something?”

You could see the worry in his eyes and it took you a second to process what was beneath his question. “Oh, no. No, I’m not gonna kill myself. Don’t worry about that.”

“So what did you mean?”

How much to tell him? As a stranger, you didn’t owe him anything. But he was your husband, maybe. At the very least, you were both naked in the same bed. And anyway, what could it hurt? Telling him the truth wouldn’t change your prognosis and it might light a fire under his ass to figure out how to cut all ties with you.

“I’m not planning on killing myself, or anything. But my body seems to be doing a great job on its own. I have cancer, can’t afford treatment, and this weekend was my last weekend to cut loose before getting my affairs in order, you know?” Hopefully he would let that all slide. Not question further. “But that’s not your problem. We need to focus on figuring out if we really did get married, and if so how to—”

“Won’t your health insurance cover treatment?”

His well-intentioned question startled a bitter laugh from you. You relaxed back into the pillows, starting to say more than you needed to. “Yeah, sure. It already covered the chemo and radiation I went through. Those didn’t help enough. And I can’t afford to cut my hours back again at work. If I do, corporate will shunt me down to part time and take away my benefits. Ain’t that the American Dream?”

Shaking your head, you determined that it was time to get away from your sob story.

“Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I can, uh, get dressed and poke around a bit to figure out how to see if we really are married. It can’t be that hard. I mean, how many accidental, drunken, Vegas weddings do you think happen here? There’s probably a website somewhere called, like, help-i-woke-up-married-to-a-stranger.com or something.”

That stupid joke rewarded you with a half-smile on Sebastian’s face. “By the way, wife, what’s your name?”

“Y/N. And,” you shrugged, “I already know yours.”

“Yeah?”

“How could I not? You’re in the fucking Marvel Cult.”

“Cult?”

You grinned. “What else would you call it?”

After a soft chuckle, he leaned back against the headboard, sheets pooling around his waist and you tried extra hard to keep your eyes on his face. “Cult’s a good word actually. All the secrecy.”

“Y’all got so many devotees, man. Like, if all of you sent out a tweet that said something about taking over the world, it would be yours.”

“You one?” At your eyebrow raise, he clarified. “A devotee?”

“Ha, no. A fan, sure. I’m far too lazy to get in a cult. While y’all storm the capital, or something, I’d be at home watching YouTube videos of Kelly Clarkson singing while I’m eating chips and salsa.”

“Kelly Clarkson?”

At his question, you got defensive. “She’s a goddess.”

“Kelly Clarkson devotee?”

“I—” you stopped to consider that before tilting your head. “I suppose so. But only because she wouldn’t want to take over the world. She’d tweet something like Everyone come over to drink wine and chat and I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

He grinned and you found yourself wishing this was real. That this really was the morning after your wedding to a handsome man.

But that wasn’t your life.

“Never thought I’d marry a Kelly Clarkson Devotee.”

“Not to, uh, cut this marriage short, but I have to be on a flight tomorrow morning. So we should probably get on with figuring shit out today. Get that annulment if we’re actually married.”

A playful frown toyed with his lips. “You’re divorcing me because I made fun of you for being in the Clarkson Cult?”

“Yes,” you played along. “I’m sorry, Sebastian, but I just can’t stay with someone who doesn’t share my absolute love and adoration of KC. If I’d have known this last night, I would have definitely left you at the altar.”

Briefly, you caught sight of a shy smile before he turned his head away. “So, uh, you mind if I grab a shower?”

“Not at all. I’ll start researching,” you motioned to your laptop that was laying over on the desk.

After he nodded, he started looking around the room. It took you a minute to remember that you were both naked. Though it shocked you that he would be as shy about his nudity as you were, you didn’t point it out. Instead, you pointed to your travel blanket that was draped over a chair within his reach. With a grateful nod, he grabbed it and secured it around his waist as he stood.

As he walked over to the bathroom, you found yourself staring at a wrinkle in the sheets, letting your brain start shutting down just enough to process the whirlwind of the last few minutes.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You glanced up.

“I, uh, I just… Look. With my job I just wanted to ask that you not share anything on, you know... Twitter or anything.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t. No one would believe me even if I did.” You offered him a reassuring smile. “I don’t really know what it’s like to be in the public eye, not like you are, anyway, but I’m sure it’s not all glitz and glam.”

With a nod of thanks, he disappeared into the bathroom.

That brought up a whole new side of worry. If you were married and did need to get the annulment, how would you keep it from getting out? You needed to make sure all of this stayed out of the press. You couldn’t let your reputation tarnish his. Not when you were going to die and leave him to deal with your bullshit.

As soon as the shower started, you darted across the room to quickly pull on some clothes. Once you were no longer naked, you dug out your medication and popped a pill, knowing you’d definitely need it to keep up your strength. Hopefully it would also work some sort of wonder on your hangover headache as well.

Once you swallowed your medicine, you grabbed your laptop, only to have a paper fall to the ground. You bent down to see what it was and stopped cold at the calligraphy written across the top:

MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE

PART 2: THE FIRST DATE

#sebastianxreader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

[dxctorstephenstrange]

Back To Life, Back to Reality (RP w/ @punchyourwayout)

THE NEW YORK SANCTUM NOVBEMBER 22, 2023

"I can't help you, even if I wanted to.  It's not possible."

Stephen Strange folded his arms in front of his chest, his body language reflecting the defiance in his voice.  The request being made by the man before him was absurd and irrational, and he couldn't possibly entertain it.

Clint Barton sighed angrily and began to pace the width of the Sanctum's Grand Entrance.  Strange had barely been able to say hello before Barton strode inside and started his pitch: cross dimensional barriers and find a way to get Natasha Romanoff back.

"You're a freaking WIZARD, man!"

"Sorcerer, actually."

"Oh, what-the-hell-ever!  Point is, you can do all this magic shit, right?  That Parker kid told me you were able to look into millions of futures to see which version we won against Thanos.  Why can't you use that power to go back and, I don't know, find another way for her to survive?"

"That power came from the Time Stone, which Steve Rogers took back into the past along with the other Stones, remember?  And the future in which we defeated Thanos couldn't have happened without Natasha and Tony giving their lives.  Clint, I know you miss her...but as you told us, she made her choice freely, and you know it couldn't be undone."

"It was supposed to be ME, goddammit!"  Barton growled back, his voice cracking as tears welled in his eyes.  He stumbled over his own feet, and Strange moved quickly to get the both of them in chairs, noticing a familiar scent on the man's breath and clothes.

"I think you've had a few too many tonight, Clint."

"I-I don't usually...I...today was her birthday.  I was the only one she ever told the date for it.  I went to a place we used to go after the ops we were assigned to, and one shot became two, then three...four...you get the idea."

"I see."  Clint's demeanor and the motivations for his anguished plea were now more explainable.

"It was supposed to be me, Doc.  I made the call.  I was ready for it.  I knew it was the right thing to do."

"You have a family, Clint.  Why would you want to leave them behind?"

"I didn't even fucking know if any of it would work, but if it did...then, I would've gone out doing something right, doing one last good deed for their sake."

"And they'd return to a life without you."

"You don't get it, Doc."

"No, I guess I don't," Strange admitted, shaking his head as he sat back in the chair.

Clint took a deep, shaky breath, wiped his face with his hands, and leaned forward.  "I'm...I'm going deaf, Doc."

Strange's eyes moved back to Clint and widened a bit with shock.  "I'm...I'm sorry."

"A sonic arrow; used those damn things over hundreds of missions, and never thought twice about 'em.  Then, one fucking arrow malfunctions and goes off right next to my head before I fire it.  Permanent damage and progressive hearing loss, I was told...but I ignored it, like a goddamn moron.  Didn't know how to break it to my wife and kids, or the other Avengers.  I wasn't ready to be put out to pasture...but it's getting worse, and now I have no choice, and they'll know that I knew all along."

"There are remarkable new medical breakthroughs and technology that could help you-"  Stephen began to explain, wanting to offer some hope to a man believing he was past his prime.

"Look, there's more to it than that.  You don't know the whole story, and that's not even why I'm here, alright?"  Clint hand-waved the detour to their discussion aside as the tears began to reappear in his eyes.  "I just...miss her.  I could tell her anything and...she understood, like I understood her.  I need to see her.  Please...at least once more.  Can't you do that, at least?  Can't you give me that, if nothing else?"

Strange sighed deeply.  Everything about the idea was wrong.  Even if he had the Time Stone to use as a means to go back to Vormir at the time of Natasha's sacrifice, his mere presence would cause a deviation in the timeline so drastic it could create an entirely new timeline and universe.  It was a step too far...but maybe, there was something he could do for the grieving Hawkeye that would provide him with much-needed closure.

"Let me see what I can do, Clint.  I can't and won't promise you anything...but I'll try."

Clint choked back a happily surprised sob, relieved that there was at least a chance that he could say one last goodbye to his best friend.  "Thanks, Doc.  Truly...thank you."

"Don't thank me yet.  Just go home to your family.  Here...I'll call you a ride."

Strange stood, slipped on his Sling Ring, and drew open a portal that led to the Barton farm.

"Holy shit...that's wild," Barton said in awe.  "Thank you for this...for listening to me, even if you don't want me to say it."

"Good night, Clint," Strange said before drawing the portal forward to send Barton home.

LATER...

Stephen went over the plan in his mind, believing he'd found a way to allow Clint the closure he needed with Natasha without disturbing realities or the timeline.  First, however, he'd seek out Natasha on his own to make sure that she'd want Clint to see her one last time.

Taking a seat cross-legged in front of the large round window bearing the symbol of the New York Sanctum, he took a few deep breaths and raised his arms, touching thumbs to ring fingers.  Soon his breathing slowed to a near-imperceptible pace, and his astral self parted from his physical body.  He took a look back at his body before rising into the air, through the ceiling of the Sanctum, far into the sky, beyond the planet itself and across space to the center of celestial existence, where Natasha Romanoff sacrificed her life...

VORMIR

Strange descended from the storm-ridden crimson skies to the clearing below the cliff, where Natasha would have landed.  From there, he ascended to a path that led up to the cliff from which Natasha would’ve jumped.

"Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange, son of Eugene and Beverly, brother of Victor and Donna."

Stephen, alarmed at the voice that seemed so familiar with him, turned to see a hooded figure approaching.  It reached up and pulled back its hood to reveal a red, skull-like face.

"Do I know you?"  Strange asked.

"No, but you are known to all who dwell within the Multiverse...and beyond:  the Master of Time;  the Man of a Million Deaths..."

Strange waved his hand around impatiently.  "Yeah, sure, great; I'm looking for someone."

"Korrectur, Doktor.  You seek the soul of one sacrificed for the sake of many.  She is here; free and yet imprisoned."

"What do you mean?"

"She gave her life of her own free will; a gift of love.  She is free from the bonds of this world, and yet she remains."  The red-skulled guardian gestured to a rock near the edge of the cliff, and the astral form of the red-haired woman who sat upon it, facing away from him.

Stephen floated towards the rock and hovered a few feet away.

"Natasha Romanoff," he greeted.  "I'm Doctor Stephen Strange.  I’ve come here on behalf of your friend, Clint Barton.”

@punchyourwayout​

#(RP: Back To Life) #punchyourwayout #doctor strange rp #doctor strange roleplay #marvel rp #mcu rp #avengers rp #dxctorstephenstrange

[salacious-mlm-snowbird]

Rage and Spite

Kieran Duffy x Male!Reader

Rating: SFW, tags: murdèr, torturé and fluff, word count: 2036

A/N: this was requested by @agaycowboi and btw I’m so sorry it took this long, I was being trained by my manager at my new job plus I was behind in school so apologies for that!! Otherwise enjoy :)

You were furious, seething with fuckin’ rage, tonight you wanted to treat Kieran to a couple of drinks in Rhodes as a present for being accepted into the gang. You two are in the saloon drinking and having a fun time when you went to the bar to get more drinks, but when you turned around you saw a sight you thought you’d never have the displeasure of seeing in a lifetime.

 Kieran Duffy had his scrawny arms wrapped around the waist of a fuckin’ harlot who works in the saloon as a public ledger, he was kissing her in a way he’s only ever kissed you, so much passion was hidden behind the drunk blush across his cheeks. You dropped the bottle of whiskey to the floor and stomped over to him before grabbing the woman by the hair, pulling her off of Kieran, “What the hell?!” she shouted as you shoved her to the floor. “W-Wait, Y/n! I didn’t mean it!” Kieran squeaks as you grab him by the collar of his blue shirt, you reared your fist back and launched it at his cheek, pain exploded in the side of Kieran’s face as he fell to the ground.

You huff and walk out of the saloon with a growl, Kieran tried calling after you but you didn’t listen as you climbed onto your horse before you raced out of Rhodes with no destination in mind, how could he do that to you? You were his goddamn lover! You felt tears threaten to spill but you only frowned and wiped them away before they could fall. It felt like a couple hours before you pulled off the road and trotted through the grass for a moment before pulling on the reigns to make your horse come to a halt.

“Good job, darlin’, I know I pushed you a little too hard. Sorry about that.” You said to your horse, patting the side of the neck of your mount as an apology and appreciation, pulling out a carrot you lean over and present it to the large animal, s/he takes it with a snort and gobbled up the carrot with a soft chuff of happiness. You dismount your darling horse with a sigh before grabbing your bedroll, placing it a couple feet from the big horse, you then begin to gather loose dry brush along with some twigs and sticks from the surrounding woody area. 

Satisfied with the amount you had gathered, you go back towards your makeshift camp and start to try and set up a small fire; it took you a couple of tries but you got it on the fourth attempt of lighting the damn thing and keeping it lit. You didn’t even realize that it had been hours since you ran away from Rhodes, here you sat in front of a small fire while you hugged your knees, soft whimpers escape your lips as tears fell down your face. Everyone treated Kieran like absolute shit, in the beginning, even you but that soon changed when you saw that he was innocent and that he didn’t know a damn thing about Colm and his boys.

Kieran warmed up to you quickly and he soon became attached to you, leaving you poems and pressed flowers on your bedroll every couple of nights. Unfortunately, you had to hide the presents from everyone, so you kept them in your leather journal for safekeeping and such, since Kieran began to gift you things of that nature you felt you had to give him something in return the only way you knew how.

You started by leaving pretty bird feathers in the strap on his hat, then you started gifting him bigger things like raccoon skulls and muskrat skins before giving him a bearskin at some point. The items you had scavenged and hunted were a lot harder to hide but the only thing the others did was look at you two weirdly, given your ruthless reputation in the gang they left you guys alone for the most part.

You were so busy sifting through pleasant memories, you never heard the footsteps sneaking up on you, eyes widening in shock when a hand clamped over your mouth and the smooth barrel of a gun pressing against your temple. You reluctantly complied with the hands of the men who had captured you as they roughly tied your hands behind your back, you growled softly when the sight of agent Ross and agent Milton came into your view.

“Surprised to see you without your rut mate, Mr. L/n. A man of your caliber should be more aware of his surroundings seeing as we just found you on our way to your camp. We thought maybe it would be better and more effective to capture a high ranking member like yourself and use you as our informant instead of massacring your whole gang. If you’re willing to participate, if not, we’ll just have to kill you and your friends anyway.” Agent Milton said with a smirk, you growl against the firm hand that held your mouth.

Agent Milton laughs before using the butt of his revolver to knock you out, you fell limp against Agent Ross but only for a moment as they let you fall onto your face so that they could tie your ankles together as well. Agent Ross holstered his gun and slung you over his shoulder before settling you on his horse’s rump, the group of Pinkertons mounted up and left your horse alone as they rode away, your mount not really knowing what to do so s/he just began trotting towards home.

When you woke up, you were tied to a chair with your shirt and guns missing, a litany of scratches and bruises cascades all across your back, arms, chest, and stomach. No doubt even more was below the belt, luckily no Pinkerton decided to have a look for themselves. You were slumped over in the chair, mumbling incoherently to yourself, blood and spit dripped from your mouth after numerous fists previously landed harshly on your face as a way to try and pry information from you.

“Just cooperate with us, Y/n. you’ll then be set free, well, under certain conditions.” Agent Milton said as his hand glides over various tools of torture, “Fuck… you.” You manage to growl as you lift your head to glare daggers into the back of his head, he smirked to himself before he grabbed a knife and turned toward you. Milton wordlessly steps forward and slashed at your chest with the knife, blood spilled freely from the wide laceration, your vocal cords bled a little as you screamed in pain while Milton continued to carve into your chest until the word, ‘R A T’ was legible.

“You’re a pathetic little rat, Y/n, thinking that you’ll make it outta here alive. That you’ll ever see your whore again-.” Milton went on and on about you but as soon as he mentioned Kieran your mind fractured in two, the leather straps that held down your arms and legs snapped in half as you forced your limps upwards with a broken yell. Milton tried reaching for his gun but was stopped as you grabbed a bloody throwing knife and shoved it into the side of his neck, blood spurting out of the man’s jugular, a series of growls and grunts escaped your bloodied mouth as you repeatedly stabbed Milton in the face and neck. 

You saw red as you grabbed his gun and shot your way out of what looks to be Van Horn, you found your guns stashed in a run-down building and grabbed them before continuing to shoot and kill your way through the countless bounty hunters and Pinkertons. After you determine the coast is clear enough, you grab a dead Pinkerton’s horse and make your way back to Clemens Point, many thoughts were filling your mind as if anything Milton said was true but what if it was? 

You shook your head and continued to head through Lemoyne, using your spurs to make the Tennessee Walker pick up speed, racing through the swamps before coming across the torn down cobblestone building, you slow down the speed of your current mount and trot down the small pathway. “Holy shit! It’s Y/n! Dutch, he’s back!” Lenny shouted as he jogged over to you from his spot on guard duty, you began leaning forward in exhaustion and ultimately fell off of the horse to the dirt.

“Jesus! Son, what the hell happened to you?!”

You growled softly as you tried to get up with the help of Dutch and Miss Grimshaw, they questioned you about what happened and you answered as many as you could as they walked you over to your tent to lay you down, Miss Grimshaw quickly walked over to the medical caravan to grab some supplies before returning to your side. She started to patch you up while saying reassuring things to you. You half-listened as you were really out of it by the time she got the bleeding to stop, you fell asleep shortly after Miss Grimshaw dressed your various wounds, Swanson even gave you some morphine to help with the pain.

Kieran returned to camp after he had sobered up enough to ride back, he felt embarrassed and terrified that he had lost you because of some stupid bullshit at the saloon. As soon as he walked past the tree line he saw the various camp members by your tent, ‘Something’s wrong…’ he thought to himself, he rushed over to your tent but was stopped by Arthur walking out of your tent, “Hold it, O’Driscoll, you can’t see him right now. Y/n was kidnapped by Pinkertons and was tortured for most of the night, he ain’t doin’ too well. You can see him in the morning. Plus, you need to sober up some, I can smell you from here.” The blonde man said while lighting a cigarette, Kieran’s eyes welled up with tears immediately following the news of what happened to you. 

Arthur looked down at Kieran with a somber look before stepping aside and motioning for him to go inside your tent, he does so quickly but stops mid-stride when he saw the state you were in. Tears spilled down the sides of his face, his lip quivered as he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now, “Y-Y/n, I’m-m so sorry, I sh-should’ve been w-with you! Oh god, please let him recover from this… fuck, I’m s-so ‘hic’ sorry.” Kieran said as he knelt beside you, gently resting his forehead on your bare shoulder.

“It’s okay, Kieran, I’ll be fine. I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have left the saloon like I did. Forgive me?” You mumble, he gasped when you spoke, listening intently to your words. “N-No, I should be the one apologizing, I was the one who kissed her. I-I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Y/n, it’ll never happen again. I promise.” Kieran said as he grasped your uninjured hand, softly rubbing your knuckles with his thumbs, “Good, can I have a drink of water?” You say as you look over at the small bucket of water and a metal tin cup that sat next to it on a crate.

Kieran grabbed the cup and dunked it into the water to get a good amount of cool water, you try to sit up a little so you could drink, leaning back on your elbows you wait for him to bring the cup to you. Kieran presents the cup to your lips and you drink like you never have had water before, “S-Slow down, you’re gonna choke.” The brunette man said as he rubbed his hand on your shoulder. You gasp softly when you stopped gulping down the water, with a deep sigh you lay back down, the thick layer of gauze on your chest peeled a little, showing the edges of a large laceration to Kieran.

“I’ll be ok, doll, don’t worry about me too much.” You said with a pained grin, he smiles softly before carefully leaning over to kiss your lips, “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too, doll.”

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr 2 #kieran duffy x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 kieran #murder tw #torture tw #death tw #fluff #blood tw

[state-of-longing]

fix-it hc where reddie saves adrian and don:

total au but what if richie and eddie are already in town at the time of the attack and are driving back from the jade orient and see the attack about to happen on the bridge?

richie comes across them first and beeps because he thinks it’s just a bunch of kids blocking the road after coming home from the carnival

but then he sees adrian getting kicked to the ground and don being held back by these gross hillbilly motherfuckers

at first richie is all, don’t get out of the car man, you need to get the fuck outta derry

but of course he doesn’t do that so he beeps again to get the attackers attention

john garton and co. stop what they’re doing and look over at the red mustang and start yelling at richie to stop being a pussy and get out of the car

richie realises that shit he didn’t think about this plan too well and he’s kinda drunk and hasn’t been in a fight since he was a teenager

then eddie’s car pulls up behind him and he sees him in the rearview mirror looking all confused and he gestures a ‘what the fuck dude?’

then richie looks at adrian coughing on the ground and reaching for his aspirator and he just loses it

he thinks of all the times bowers and co. scared him shitless and bullied eddie right in front of him and he wishes he had done something. anything

he gets out of the car, leaving the engine running and slams the door shut yelling out ‘hey shit stains, leave them alone!’

garton gets off adrian who is wheezing and coughing on the ground. the other guys still have a hold of don who is desperate to get to his boyfriend

eddie who has been trying to figure out why richie has just decided to park in the middle of a bridge, rolls down his window to lean out and ask what’s going on

‘richie, are you having a goddamn stroke? why the fuck did you —’

but he stops when he sees richie get out of the car and slam his door closed and walk out further onto the bridge

worried that the stupid idiot will drunkenly walk into oncoming traffic, eddie also begrudgingly gets out. just to ensure the dickwad doesn’t get hit by a car before they’ve even escaped the clown

richie is face to face with garton and he also notices a kid who spits on the ground near his feet. he’s unfortunately not surprised by how early the hate starts in this town. he’s a little replica of bowers

‘are you their boyfriend too?’

richie freezes and he’s getting flashbacks to being 13 and not knowing why the bowers gang is yelling at him and why they’re calling him a fairy

‘i asked you a question f**’ and garton pushes richie’s shoulder

eddie runs up to them at that point and before he can even think of his personal safety he notices adrian struggling on the floor and fumbling for his aspirator that’s too far away for him to reach

‘holy shit’ he stumbles to the ground and picks up the familiar device and takes in all of the blood on adrian’s face. he shakes the dispenser and hears the comforting rattle

‘here, take a deep breath. it’s okay, you’re going to be okay just breathe.’

adrian grasps at eddie’s hand and takes the puff allowing the medicine to open his tight airways

eddie instantly thinks of richie helping him with his own aspirator when they were teenagers and looks up at the gang now surrounding him

richie looks terrified

‘eds! what the fuck are you doing? get back in the car!’

the two cronies let go of don, noticing this new threat and he immediately runs to adrian’s side

‘i’m helping you numb nuts. you trying to be a martyr or something?’ with richie here with him eddie doesn’t feel as terrified as he know he should

‘what is this? some sort of old queer reunion?’ the kid spits out and blocks eddie in from the side

eddie ignores him and sees a chance for the guy on the ground and his boyfriend to escape

‘make sure he gets another puff of this and get him straight to the hospital. his nose is broken.’ he pulls out the keys to his rental and passes them to don

richie can’t help but smile proudly at eddie and his fucking balls. but he was always better in a crisis, can’t resist giving someone medical advice

‘thank you.’ adrian groans out as he grabs onto don for support

‘just get the hell outta derry.’

don smiles thankfully and they stumble to eddie’s car, the attackers ignoring them now that they have richie and eddie

‘maybe we just give a derry welcome to this one boys’ the kid rounds on eddie who now realises how much danger they might actually be in. the gang turns on him

richie panics and calls out for their attention. ‘look fellas if you wanted us to suck your dicks all you had to do is ask’

eddie eyes richie down with a why are you so stupid look

but it distracts garton and his cronies long enough for richie to pull his arm back and swing a punch at the ringleaders nose

he gets him, blood flying everywhere

richie is in shock that it actually worked. and then he’s groaning as he clutches his hand as the pain radiates up his arm

‘fuck me that hurts’

eddie, who is in awe of the whole thing, watches as garton stumbles back holding his bloody nose, the ratty kid next to him moves to help his friend so eddie trips him over as he’s not looking

the two other numbskulls turn on them

‘run!’

‘eds i just fucking punched that guy’

‘that’s great. now run!!’

eddie bolts for the passenger door of the mustang and richie catches on and scrambles for his keys as the gang closes in on them

‘unlock the car dipshit!’

one hillbilly tries to swing at eddie and he ducks, the guys fist going through the car window. eddie laughs hysterically in both terror and elation

‘holy shit that actually worked!’

richie jumps in the car and yells at eddie to get in before locking the door

‘we’re gonna get you, fucking f**s!’

richie looks over at eddie who is grinning like a madman and nods at him to drive.

‘yipee ki yay motherfuckerrrrrrs!!’ he punches the gas, hollering out the window, eddie flipping them off

garton panics to get out of the way of the speeding car and stumbles backwards over the side of the bridge

the hillbilly cronies all run down to the kenduskeag to save him. pennywise gets a 3-course meal instead

‘that was fucking awesome! did you see their faces? they shit their pants man!’ eddie’s eyes are shining as he looks on proudly at richie

he frowns when he notices richie’s smile has faded and his hands (including the bloody one) are shaking on the wheel. he turns down the music which is blasting a talking heads album

‘rich...hey richie. hey man, you okay?’

richie is pale behind his glasses, and wipes sweat from his brow. ‘who me? sure am eds. never better buddy boy.’

eddie is unconvinced but rather than push him he just says ‘you did good richie.’

richie tries to concentrate on the road and it takes all of his might to not turn the car around and drive straight out of town. he already has eddie in the car. but he can’t get the image of adrian mellon lying on the pavement out of his head

but he doesn’t. he just drives to the town house and he and eddie escape upstairs before the others arrive

‘come with me.’ eddie grabs richie’s arm and drags him into his room

richie would follow him anywhere

eddie digs through his very large toiletries bag and pulls out a first aid kit. ‘your hand needs cleaning.’

‘it’s fine.’

‘bullshit. just let me clean it before you get an infection and it falls off.’

richie knows better than to argue and he flops onto eddie’s bed, his hands are still shaking

eddie picks up the hand, inspects it and then starts cleaning with antiseptic. richie lets out a hiss between his teeth but can’t deny that he’s been wanting to hold eddie’s hand all night. he just didn’t think it would be like this

‘what you did tonight...’

‘it was stupid, i wasn’t thinking...’

‘it was brave. you didn’t have to help them. you know most people in this shithole town wouldn’t.’

richie smiles and is overwhelmed by the sincerity in eddie’s eyes. he quickly looks down at their hands where eddie is now applying some sort of smelly salve

‘this town. it hasn’t changed one bit. it’s...it was terrifying even without the clown...’

‘yeah...i know what you mean...’

eddie pulls out a bandage and wraps it around his knuckles. richie is mesmerised by how methodical he is and how soothing it is just to watch him at work. he should have been a doctor

‘do you think that couple is okay?’

‘i hope so. all thanks to you rich.’

richie knows that tonight was just another moment that will scar their hearts. watching someone you love being hurt like that...it never leaves you. richie blinks back tears as eddie finishes with his hand

but he doesn’t let go, just rubs his thumb along his knuckles

‘did you see he had an aspirator?’ eddie barely whispers out and looks up at him through his eyelashes

‘...yeah’

richie smiles through the tears and squeezes eddie’s hand back

‘yeah I did...and it terrified me’

they soak in each other for just a moment

until the others arrive downstairs

#reddie #it #tw: violence #tw: slurs #it chapter 2 spoilers #never written a hc before #did i do it right? #adrian mellon #don hagarty #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #my writing

[365days365movies]

January 28, 2021: The Fugitive (Part 2)

No navel-gazing, I’m on the edge of my seat, so let’s start before I fall the hell off! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Now at the hospital, the Marshals try to figure out why in the hell Kimble would return to the hospital. They figure out pretty quickly that he’s come to discover the identity of the one-armed man. They decide to follow suit, in order to find Kimble, at the very least.

It’s St. Patrick’s Day, and Kimble walks by the traditionally-dyed-green Chicago River into City Hall, where one of the one-armed suspects is in holding, after having been arrested for armed robbery (yes, they DO make a joke about that). Gerard’s close behind, and questions why Kimble’s doing any of this, if he’s actually the one who killed his wife.

God, it’s good to have competent people in law enforcement in this movie. Not as much for Kimble, though, as Gerard chases him down a winding staircase. Kimble BARELY escapes the building, and heads outside into the St. Paddy’s Day crowds, making this my new St. Patrick’s Day movie, officially.

The media now knows about the Kimble situation, and a confused Gerard takes an interview, where the veneer begins to crack, and uncertainty shines through. The original stupid cops, on the other hand, double down on Kimble’s guilt, despite NONE OF THIS MAKING SENSE.

Ford now investigates the next person on his list. They aren’t picking up their phone, so he does the next best thing: break into their house. That’s when the sees a photo of his suspect, and…

WHAT

HOLY SHIT WHAT

HE’S A FUCKING COP?!?!?

OH MY GOD

And even worse, he has a tie to a colleague of Kimble’s that he met at the fundraiser that night. And then, EVERYTHING begins to unravel. Pieces are coming into place, involving a drug, the fundraiser, and this one-armed ex-cop, Frederick Sykes (Andreas Katsulas). Do you smell cover-up, BECAUSE I DO.

Kimble calls Gerard, they have just an AMAZING conversation, and he purposely leads Gerard and his guys to Sykes’ place via traced phone call. They make it there, as soon as Sykes returns home. Gerard questions him, and Dykes claims that he wasn’t in Chicago that night. He works as security for a pharmaceutical company.

...I really hope that the villain is Big Pharma, that’d be AMAZING.

Gerard’s now convinced that Sykes is involved, and also sets his sights on a photo that Kimble was looking at, one that contains Sykes and the doctor from the fundraiser. Kimble calls Chuck, and reveals the full conspiracy. Sykes and the doctor, Lentz, work for a pharmaceutical company named Devlin McGregor. They’re releasing a new drug, one which Kimble realized could cause severe liver damage. That would’ve prevented them from releasing the drug, and making BOATLOADS of cash. Which means that Kimble? He had to go. And HE was the target, not his wife.

DAMN YOU BIG PHARMA!!! YOU KILLED HELEN KIMBLE!!!

As Gerard and his team are investigating, they find out that Lentz died last summer, shortly after Helen. Kimble does his own investigating. He goes to a medical school archive and gets some help from a friend there in getting liver samples submitted for the drug test. He then goes to the hospital to see Kathy, discovering that the slides he submitted were different, and switched out with healthy ones by Lentz...on the day he died. Que? Kimble has a revelation, and he goes to “see a friend.”

Meanwhile, Sykes gets a call from a mysterious number, and calls in a fire emergency to make an escape from the cops watching him. Gerard’s men find out Lentz is dead, and that the samples were swapped out by…

YUP. IT’S THAT MOTHERFUCKER. Nichols, the “loyal friend,” is the one who plotted all of this. And now, both Gerard AND Kimble know, and are headed to confront him. Sykes, on orders, is going after Kimble as well, and corners him on the train. But after a fight, Kimble knocks him out and chains him to the train doors. In the process, however, a policeman is shot by Sykes, maning that he’s now high on the cop’s hit list as well. Pressure’s on.

As Nichols is giving a speech at a local conference, the cops, Kimble, and the Marshals all arrive at the same time. The stupid cops from earlier try to stop the Marshals, but Gerard pushes through like a boss. Kimble shows up at the speech, where Nichols states that the drug has no side-effects. Kimble publicly confronts Nichols, and reveals his lies to the freaked-out audience. Nichols pulls him aside for a talk.

As Gerard and the police close in, Kimble and Nichols take it outside, where police helicopters are watching them. Gerard follows, and soon all three of them are on the roof. Kimble and Nichols fall into an elevator shaft, onto an elevator. They get off in the building’s laundry room, and Gerard does something he never does: he talks.

Kimble FINALLY gives up, mostly because somebody FINALLY believes him. The cops get reamed for the STUPID, SHITTY INVESTIGATION, GOD I HATE THEM AND I HOPE THEY GET FIRED. They take Kimble to the car, and Gerard gets in the back with him, and he uncuffs the innocent doctor.

That’s...that’s a real goddamn good movie. Damn, Lindy West, you called it. More in the Epilogue!

#the fugitive #andrew davis #harrison ford #richard kimble #dr. richard kimble #dr richard kimble #tommy lee jones #sela ward #joe pantoliano #action thriller #365 movie challenge #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies 365 days #365 movies a year #user365 #mygifs #samuel gerard #movie challenge #action january

[jeontaeh]

THREE³

There was an awkward silence.

The only sound in the room was, well, none because there's no goddamn sound in space. Just their breathing, little clanks from here and there, and the small woosh of the engine.

There were 7 of them, and none of them spoke. Jungkook had his head in his hands. Taehyung was looking out the big window. Jimin looked distraught and a little heartbroken. Yoongi was drinking from a flask and everyone was pretending they didn't see. Hoseok was on the chair with his legs propped up on the side of the chair. Jin was lying on the floor face first.

Namjoon was the only one doing shit. He had his tablet out, pressing quick buttons on his tablet and then on the communications table.

"Engineering, you don't know shit about Communications. Get off before you accidentally contact that planet full of cannibal aliens." Yoongi said, and Namjoon pursed his lips.

"I have a name." Namjoon snapped, and Yoongi scoffed. "Right Sorry- uh- Seokjin."

"That's me." Jin said, raising his head a bit to look at Yoongi. "Oh shit, sorry." Yoongi said.

"It's fine, Jimin." Yoongi said, and Jimin sighed. "I'm Jimin."

"I don't know which one of them is Taehyung and which is Jungkook." Hoseok admitted, looking at the ceiling of the ship.

"The one that doesn't look like a wanna be android is Jungkook." Jungkook said, and Taehyung scoffed.

"The one who doesn't look like he just dipped his head in period blood is Taehyung." Taehyung retorted.

"Yeah.. your mom's." Jungkook mumbled back, and Taehyung just ave him a pissed off look.

Namjoon yelled. "Ah!"

Everyone shut up. "Jesus Christ- what's wrong?" Jin asked, and Namjoon placed the tablet down and groaned. "No signal. No fucking signal."

"Maybe- maybe we should move? At least try and find the Galactic patrol to get through to the other galaxy-" Jimin suggested, and Namjoon sighed. "We can't. There's no patrol here. This entire place and the galaxies on either side are undiscovered territory. So we're alone."

"Ugh. Can't we go to that galaxy which has that planet which is all girls?" Jungkook asked, and Taehyung scoffed.

"We're stuck in the middle of nowhere and you;re thinking about girls? What are you, straight?" Taehyung asked, and Jungkook shot him a glare.

"I am." Jungkook snapped, and Jimin gasped. "Really? I've never met a straight person before." Jimin said, and Jin hummed. "Me either."

It took planet earth many years and year, but somehow, more than 60% of the population of Humans were bisexual. The 40% was the people who liked one gender. But it's fine. Everything's accepted, it's fucking 3418. No one was homophobic. They left that shit behind a thousand years ago.

"Y'know what, I think it's best if we don't move. Just stay in one spot, until we get some help. Mrs. Tin-"

"Yin."

"Mrs. Yin will send some help, of course she will. We just need to waist. And there doesn't seem to be any disturbance the satellites are picking up around us, so we are fine." Namjoon said, and the guys hummed in agreement.

Another awkward silence.

"Let's play a game." Hoseok said, and everyone looked at him. "A game? What are we, 4 years old?"

"Do you have anything better to do? Exactly. So let's just get to know each other because I don't know shut about anyone." Hoseok said, and then Namjoon hummed.

"Yeah, that's cool. I'll go first. I'm Kim Namjoon, I'm 21, and I spend most of my time in the library." Namjoon said, and Jin chuckled.

"Heyy- you're that guy that helped me with my homework that one time. Thanks, man." Jin said, and Namjoon gave him a look and smiled a little. "Yup. I'm that guy."

"Great. My turn. I'm Jung Hoseok, also 21, and I really like dancing and fixing shit, which is why I'm in engineering."

"Cool. I'm Jin, 23. You guys probably know me. Like, not know-know me. But know me. I'm pretty popular." Jin said, and the guys hummed. "Yeah, we know you, Jin. You're like, president of every club you join."

"True."

"Okay I'm Park Jimin. I'm 20. I just found out my girlfriend cheated on me with that guy," Jimin said, whose eyes widened. "And though I want to kill him, we'll probably get home soon, and I don't have that kind of energy in my life." Jimin said with a smile, and then sat down.

Jungkook cleared his throat, giving a small smile to Jimin, who ignored it. Yoongi stood up.

"I'm 22 and I'm tired." Yoongi said, and then sat back down.

"Is your name 22 or is it tired?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Got it."

"Okayyy- I'm Kim Taehyung. I'm 20. My mother is one eighth jupiterian, which is why I have grey eyes-"

"Your dad fucked an alien?!" Jungkook asked, and Taehyung frowned at him. Everyone paused for a second, and then Jungkook realised what he said came out weird, and he cleared his throat.

"I mean- oh my god your dad fucked an alien.. congrats." Jungkook said quickly, looking down. Taehyung pursed his lips and then looked back at the other guys.

"....Anyways. I like reading books from time to time." Taehyung said, and Jungkook arched his eyebrow.

"What's that?"

"Huh?" Taehyung said.

"What's a book?"

"Oh my god."

"No I'm serious-"

"It's like words but written on paper and shit." Jin said, and Jungkook frowned. "Paper? Like that shit from trees? People used to skin trees?"

"Oh my god are you fucking dumb?" Taehyung snapped, and Jungkook pursed his lips at his words and then huffed and stood up.

"I'm Jungkook. I like space exploration because going out in space is fun. I'm 18." Jungkook said, and then sat back down.

"Going out in space is fun- Jesus Christ, couldn't get a dumber answer. Makes sense since you;re a child." Taehyung mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands, and Jungkook frowned.

"I'm literally 2 years younger than you,"

"You're a baby."

"Fight fight fight fight-" Yoongi started chanting, and Jimin giggled at him. Taehyung turned away from Jungkook and faced the rest of the guys, who all looked bored.

Another awkward silence.

"Hey what if that woman just left us and we're here all alone forever?" Jin said, and everyone gulped, because the fact that the statement was plausible scared the shit out of everyone.

"Guess we'll just die." Yoongi said, and Jimin giggled again, playfully nudging his foot.

"We won't die. No one's dying. Not yet, we're only 20-"

"Jungkook's 18."

"Dude shut the FUCK up-"

"Holy shit someone get silver away from cherry over here," Hoseok said quickly, and Jungkook just got up and walked away himself, feeling a little annoyed, staring daggers at Taehyung.

"Okay, good thing is. We have two engineers, two communications, one medical, and two explorers." Namjoon said, and Hoseok hummed. "Don't really need two engineers."

"I know, but the more the merrier I guess." Namjoon said.

"That's what she said," Jungkook giggled, and then looked at Namjoon, laughing with his mouth open, until Namjoon didn't laugh and Jungkook shut up, looking forward.

"Holy shit this is awkward. I'm gonna take a tour of the ship." Yoongi said, and then stood up. "I'll come with." Hoseok mumbled, and he got up with him and they walked to the other side of the ship whee the other rooms were.

"I wanna go check out the kitchen in this place." Jimin said, and Jin stood up. "I'll come." And they both walked out.

Namjoon was still looking at the communications table, pressing some stuff, muddling around files and information. Jungkook gave him a look, and then turned and saw Taehyung standing beside him.

"Wanna check out the rooms?" Taehyung asked, and Jungkook frowned. "With you?"

"Or you could just sit around here and bask in your piss. Jesus- I'm just asking." Taehyung snapped, and both heard Namjoon sigh.

"Can you kids get out of here? I'm trying to work." Namjoon said, and Jungkook and Taehyung both paused at his words and just found themselves nodding and walking out of the control room.

"So, Kim Taehyung. Funny I never noticed you on campus." Jungkook mumbled, and Taehyung smirked as the two continued walking through the halls of this ship. "Why, because I'm so attractive?"

"No, because I wouldn't notice someone cosplaying as the tin man for sure." Jungkook replied cockily, and Taehyung raised his eyebrow.

"It's my natural hair colour, unlike you.... Wannabe little mermaid headass." Taehyung retorted under his breath, and Jungkook rolled his eyes, and they kept walking.

They finally reached the plate with the rooms, and saw 8 rooms. Both grinned, thankful they were getting their own rooms, at least. They entered one, and then gasped.

"Dude it's like a hotel room in here, holy shit." Jungkook whispered, and it truly was. The floor was carpeted and the beds were big and plush and there were huge windows lining the wall, along with dim lights that turned on because, y-know, lights were activated by kinetic energy now.

There was a bare wall on the other side of the bed, and Taehyung placed his hand on the wall, and a screen showed up, and it read Welcome on it.

"Welcome indeed." Taehyung said, tracing his hand over the screen.

Jungkook snickered. "That's what she said."

"What?"

"Like- well come." Jungkook said, and Taehyung looked at him for a few seconds. "Like- it's- it's a joke on- it's a play on words on orgasming-"

"Dude, I get it. I'm just not 12 so I didn't find it funny." Taehyung mumbled, and Jungkook rolled his eyes.

"Oh my god, you're so fucking high strung I assume you're walking around with a dildo up your ass," Jungkook snapped, and Taehyung looked at him, his silver eyes darkening.

"What did you just say?" Taehyung said lowly, and Jungkook pushed past him, walking out of the room. Jungkook saw Jin and Jimin holding a whole basket in their hands.

"You guys there's so much food in here! Like, everything!" Jimin squealed, and Jin grinned happily and both of them giggled and rushed to the little dining room place with hovering chairs and what not.

Yoongi and Hoseok walked out of the lounge room, and they were both grinning. "So fucking cool."

"I know right."

"What?" Taehyung asked, and Hoseok and Yoongi looked at them. "The lounge has one of those 6d virtual headsets and it has all the video games we like." Hoseok said, and they both continued talking to each other while walking into the lounge.

Namjoon walked out of the control room, cursing under his breath and placing his tablet against the wall, it's inbuilt wall mount acting up. Namjoon looked frustrated, so Taehyung sighed.

"Namjoon, don't worry. We'll get communications somehow. Let's just go eat for now." Taehyung said, and Namjoon nodded, giving Taehyung a grateful smile.

"Thanks Taehyung. I'm just worried we'll be stuck here for longer than a day or two." Namjoon said, and then two responses came at once.

"We'll be fine!"

"We're fucked."

Namjoon and Taehyung glared at Jungkook, who scoffed. "What! Am I wrong?"

"No, but just learn to keep your mouth shut sometimes, cherry." Taehyung snapped, and Jungkook frowned as Taehyung gave Namjoon a sheepish shrug and they both snickered and walked into the dining room.

Jungkook, standing alone outside, huffed. "Cherry." Jungkook grumbled under his breath, and then walked into the dining room, seeing all the guys sitting on either sides of the table, some laughing.

"Yo this shit is so good," Hoseok said, biting into the pizza, while the other hummed in agreement, also digging into the food. Jungkook walked up to there, and grinning sarcastically.

"Great. There's six seats.2 Jungkook said, and Taehyung looked at him. "There are more dining rooms."

"I don't wanna sit alone." Jungkook snapped, and then decided to just stand and eat, because it's better than leaving. Jungkook grabbed a piece of fried chicken and bit into it, and moaned a little.

"Holy fuck, that's good." Jungkook said, and Taehyung scoffed.

"In other news, a chicken leg turns an 18 year old on." Taehyung said in a news anchor voice, and Jimin laughed.

"Isn't this kind of weird?" Namjoon asked, and the boys looked at him. "Like- there's so much food.. and they don't stock the food until one or two days before takeoff. But from what I know, the Space Nova wasn't supposed ready to launch  for at least another year. So why's there so much food here?"

Everyone stilled, but Jungkook continued biting into his fried chicken, and then gasped. "Ohh- Jin pass the mayo." Jungkook said, and everyone looked at him, and Jungkook blushed lightly and just grabbed the mayo himself.

"That is weird, Namjoon. It's weirder how no one stopped us from entering it properly. I mean, if the kitchen is stocked, technically that means this ships should've been taking off in a day or two, right? But I didn't see any cleaners or mechanics working on this ship." Yoongi said.

"Yeah. Usually before a ship, especially as big as this one, is due to venture out- there's many cleaners and people working in and out to make sure it's safe. 7 kids like us shouldn't have been allowed to just walk in with such little supervision.." Jin said, and everyone paused again, looking down at their food.

"Holy shit chocolate covered strawberries." Jungkook piped, and the guys looked at him in annoyance again as Jungkook reached forward to grab some.

"Jungkook I think you should just sit in the other dining room from now." Jimin suggested, and Jungkook frowned, and then they heard some loud beeping.

Message Alert. Message Alert. Message Alert.

Namjoon shot up in an instant and ran out, and everyone dropped their food and rushed out as well. Jungkook sighed, and then grabbed his drink and ran to the control room.

There was a big calling screen on the big window in the control room, and Namjoon pressed a button. "Mr. Disung?" Namjoon asked in relief, seeing the head of their University sitting against a chair, looking at a screen as well, probably.

Yes yes, hello. Kim Namjoon, right?" He said on the monitor, and Namjoon nodded, grinning.

"Sir, thank you so much for contacting us. We've been trying all day. We really just need some assistance from the Galactic Navy to get here, and-"

"Things aren't that easy, boys. There's no other ship like the Space Nova. None that travels that fast. Taking a normal ship and getting to where you are will take a long time." Mr. Disung said, and the boys frowned.

"W-what? Can't you- can't you do something, sir? We can't be stuck here for a long time- we'll run out of supplies!" Hoseok said, and Mr. Disung sighed.

"Here's the thing, boys," Mr. Disung said, and then smiled gravely. "Your safety is our utmost priority."

"Then act like it!" Jungkook said, and Taehyung smacked his head from behind, shutting him up.

"However, we understand how-how fatal this can be to the media. If they find out that the Navy let go of seven students aboard a mega ship, we'll get major backlash." Mr. Disung said.

"Oh no that's so sad." Yoongi said, not a hint of sadness in his tone. "But when can we come home?"

"Boys, I've talked to my superiors. And they've advised me this. We suggest you make your way back to Proioxis yourselves." Mr. Disung said.

"What?!" Jimin snapped, and Mr. Disung nodded. They couldn't help but notice how Mr. Disung kept looking off camera, almost nervously, like he was reading lines. "The Galactic Navy has decided that you seven can provide us some help. Make your way back to Proioxis, and in between, perhaps complete some missions for us and venture in some planets. You have explorers with you, right?"

Mr. Disung looked right at Jungkook and Taehyung, who huffed, both scowling.

"Wait- sir, we're like, 20. We don't know much about this- it-it could be dangerous. Are you sure the Navy said to leave us hanging out here to come back on our own?" Namjoon asked, and Mr. Disung, again looked off camera, gulped, and looked back.

"Yes. Yes you will come back on your own. We'll try to contact you and give you directions the best that we can. We have sent you a map for the way back. It should take around two weeks, but you will be fine." Mr. Disung chuckled, and before anyone could protest, the call ended. And on the screen popped up a file.

Map to Proioxis Cloud

"What the fuck?" Jin let out, looking at them. "This- this is... not okay." Jin said, and Namjoon nodded, looking torn and confused and both.

"How can they just leave us without any back up? We don't have rayguns, or-or anything." Yoongi said.

"I don't know if that food will last two weeks." Jimin piped.

"I don't know if we'll last two weeks." Yoongi mumbled.

"What if we get lost?" Hoseok said, and Jungkook gulped.

"Is-is this bad?" Jungkook asked, and the guys looked a bit sympathetic, but Taehyung groaned.

"Yes, Cherry, it's bad. We could die." Taehyung said, and Jungkook gulped, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth.

"Hey hey, guys, let's not lose hope. We have a map, right? And it's just two weeks. It could be much worse. Plus, we can just call the Galactic Navy or Mr. Disung whenever we need help. We're fine. We- we have two explorers. Two communications. One medical. And two engineers. We're more than fine." Namjoon said, trying to lighten the mood.

"But no Captain." Jungkook pointed out, and Yoongi nodded. "Yeah. No Captain."

There was a small silence, and then suddenly all the boys looked up and looked at Namjoon, who was looking at the floor tentatively. Namjoon felt eyes on him, and looked up, and frowned when he saw the six boys looking at him with wide eyes.

"Why... are you all staring at me?"

"You can be our captain!" Jimin said, and the guys grinned, but Namjoon scowled.

"What? No, I'm only 21-"

"And?? Dude, you're proved to be good at communications and engineering. And as I said, we don't need two engineers." Hoseok said, and Taehyung hummed.

"Don't need two explorers either."

"Shut the fuck-"

"Are you guys sure?" Namjoon asked, and then Jin walked up to him.

"Namjoon, you'll be a good leader. You're perfect for this role. Plus, didn't you want to be captain?" Jin asked, and then smiled with Namjoon blushed a little. "Exactly. So get your butt on that chair and let's get moving, Mr. Captain." Jin grinned, and Namjoon did as well, and then walked over to the Captain's chair and sat down slowly.

"This is the hottest thing I've ever done." Namjoon whispered, placing his arms on the armrest of the chair.

"Chair kink.." Jungkook whispered, and Taehyung tried to elbowed him lightly. Jungkook grabbed his elbow before he could do anything though, and Taehyung turned and saw Jungkook standing kind of close.

"Nice wenis." Jungkook whispered to him, and Taehyung scowled.

"What the fuck?"

"This." Jungkook said, and then touched the skin on Taehyung's elbow. "It's called a wenis." Jungkook said, and Taehyung watched as Jungkook started laughing, and Taehyung just pulled his arm back, rolling his eyes with a small smirk on his face.

"Somehow, by being in the middle of all of this, being stuck with you might be the hardest part, Cherry." Taehyung said, and Jungkook gave him a small smile.

"You'll learn to love me." Jungkook replied, and Taehyung looked at him for a few seconds, and then they both heard coughing.

"Silver and Red are flirting, I repeat, Silver and Red-"

"Shut up, Jimin." Jungkook snapped, and Jimin giggled, getting a whack on the head by Taehyung. "Hey! I'm just practicing for when you guys go out to explore."

"The real question is- who's the Dora and who's the Boots." Yoongi said, and then winked, making all of them laugh. Taehyung snickered and rolled his eyes, but Jungkook frowned in confusion.

"How does that even make sense?"

✫  ✬  ✭  ✬  ✫

https://jeontaeh.tumblr.com/post/647226081649328128/four%E2%81%B4

[mynameisdreartblog]

Structural Isomers 3

Libra: 2,2,4-Trimethylhexane. <The familiar bell to mark someone’s entrance into the library chimes again. Yellen, after rubbing her magnifier for a comically lung time, peers up to greet whoever’s there. However, a striking intuition splashes her mind, which results in an aftershock of total disgust that needs to be disguised for the sake of etiquette> Oh, hello… you. «Good morning, granny. So, what’s new here?» <Yellen thinks to herself:> Goddamn Inez again. And here I was thinking he’d never come back! «Still holding onto all these worthless texts? You of all people should know by now that there’s nothing valuable here… Actually, I don’t want to be that harsh, but still: Necessity calls!» These works still hold considerable weight to our modern world, young man. «Keep up with the times; we’re on the edge of it being ‘postmodern’ now, which means everything here will become even more antiquated.» <Yellen thinks to herself again> Ugh, he’s put on this completely fabricated hatred of literature to justify his intentions of buying up the property here. So shallow, but at least I’m getting closer to knowing who’s paying him. The transition into a new world makes preserving older knowledge all the more worth it in my eyes <Yellen grips her wrinkly flesh around her pens.> «Heh, you seem aggravated by my progressivism.» Yes, because you’re violating one of the rules <Yellen pulls out a pristine paper, in which the second rule states “no political discussion”> I’d hate to be rude, but I think you’re overthinking and making up a ‘political issue’ again, and that leads you to discussing it loudly on the premises. That isn’t tolerated, as the politics (like everything else contentious) remains in the books here. «Oh, but the politics are happening right outside as we speak!» <Arduous and nonsensical conversation can be heard mumbling through the front door. Promptly, Yellen claps her hands once and the door becomes reinforced with sound-proofing, intimidating Inez> But this space is a different world with different rules, dear Inez.

Cancer: 3,3,4-Trimethylhexane. Time for a flashback way back in medical school. You know what you remember the most fondly? <Springe takes a puff from his cigarette: An almost disparate drag. He holds on this moment for dramatic effect and resumes speaking> Learning how to treat patients. <The lounge around him stares silently, thinking how out of character this was for him, and they were waiting for the inevitable fake-out> I’m serious, guys. Normally, I’m not an empathetic person, which makes you wonder why I got into this, but those instructors really beat those flaws out of you. They take the flaw you had before and make it into an entirely different character flaw, actually. «You went from not caring to caring too much?» Precisely, Luna! Passion took its cold, meaty hands and frightened the criminal in me. «How do you know my-» In anatomical dissection, the words of “you’re special because you’re human” kept banging in my head. It made me realize the place I was in while slicing through the fetus’s flesh. [,] Oh, it’s in my head with a permanent residence. <Luna mumbles to herself> «He’s way too cheery today; he must be manic again.» “You have quite a lot of sympathy for that pig you just dissected, Springe. We have all of those bones to protect that which is most vulnerable inside of us: The gross and mushy stuff.” To which I responded with “shouldn’t you be describing this in a more professional manner?” But I was the fool there, <Springe takes another puff from his cigarette> and the teacher said “toss it in with the rest.” That’s when they threw everything into a biowaste basket and I automatically passed that assignment. Thank God it’s that wonderful education that stopped me from becoming a shrink! <A nurse interrupts Springe, stating he has a patient to see> …What’s their history of cleft palate surgery again? Let me see here… Oh poor thing, it’s her first time.

Virgo: Nonane. It's blah, like my personality. «What about this one?» No, you don't understand; I want something deliberately tacky that we can all wear through the parking garage. «Bluma, there’s nobody here to see us; why do you care how we look?» It’s about how we look to ourselves! «So, you want to wear something you dislike? …I don’t get you.» I’m an expression you can never solve, Jouka. «Ah… Science has enabled man to split the atom and explore the cosmos, so one day, we’ll be able to solve the mystery of you.» Maybe you can solve this mystery! <Bluma playfully lifts the ephemeral capes from her studded leather boots, stomping them to the ground in a way to assert spatial dominance and showcase their fragrance> «H-holy shit! Where have you been keeping these, girl?» They’re imports. <Jouka ogles her boots while thoughts of how their previous goth fits were never truly complete because they didn’t feature boots like these. A mix of envy and pride fills their heart.> «Imports: How much did you pay?» Well- <skateboards can be heard echoing from the top of the parking garage: They indicate sharp and swift movement alongside a disregard for the physics of the structure> We’ve got company. «Ah yes, those skateboarders must be a threat.» No time for sarcasm, Jouka. «…I’m in agreement with you.» <Crumpled cans fall from the top floor, landing with a light grace and a hollow pang> They’re already attacking <Bluma quickly pulls out a retractable baton hidden in the new boots, making an intimidating clang.> Oh shit, I didn’t think you took that as that big a threat. «You agreed, didn’t you?» To a degree, hon. <Brandishing her boots once more, Bluma readies her legs to begin rushing into the building> «What’s the holdup: Are you not confident enough?» You let your worldview get shaken by what the books say: How are you more confident than me? <The cans from before explode violently, leaving a hazy smoke cloud in their wake. What happened to the two?>

Sagittarius: 2,2,5-Trimethylhexane. <Rossouw wipes the sweat off her brow and tries to avoid the pain she’s receiving from both the sunlight-induced headache and the memories plaguing her thoughts> Two parallel assholes in my life: Unbelievable! After everything I’ve been through, I’m at the end of the road again. I keep going at it, thinking things will change this time in an epic twist of fate, but fate always wins! The songs I sing, the art I make: All things I do to spiritually reinforce a positive ending get flipped on me. The mystics tell me it’s to learn a lesson, but I think that’s what they say to soothe the suffering. <Rossouw keeps monologuing to herself in a self-repeating way, constantly wondering what went wrong. This continues until she’s at the brink of realizing something life-changing, only for it to be interrupted by someone asking for directions> «Hey, do you know where these roads diverge?» <Rossouw communicates almost automatically> Yeah, they diverge about four miles down from this station. <Afterwards, she is utterly dazed at the fact that talking with this white man in a jeep completely erased her newfound knowledge. A great insecurity overtakes her, feeling like the opportunity has already left her, she tries to compensate immediately for the otherwise profound grief this would bring her> Hey, do you want to hear a story? «I got five more days here, so go ahead.» During my time where I was stationed in Uganda, I met a petite woman: She looked like someone suffering immense grief, like a massive opportunity was taken from her. I approached her and asked what was wrong, and she replied “my daughter’s gone: They took my daughter away from me!” I was immediately worried and replied “was it the terrorists?” And she replied “no, it was the American couple who came and took my baby!” Turns out, their child was stolen from them because of international adoption policies. That's fucked up, huh? «Uh, yeah. You know, I was expecting a more… wholesome story?» Right, right. I’m so sorry, holy shit. «Thanks, goodbye.»

#Zodipunc #Zodiaccupuncture #Libra #Cancer #Virgo #Sagittarius