#i want to embarrass him until hes no longer functional and shooting his brains out his dick

[babblingeccentric]

Sanji + gender play (fem reader) for kinktober! Wanna ride him while he's all dolled up in lingerie with a vibrator in his ass 🤤

I didn't quite capture the letter of your request but I think I at least got the spirit. I wrote this in half an hour tipsy on mulled cider and I think I got possessed by the spirit of a novel writer from the 1860s

Kinktober 5: Gender Play, Sanji/Reader

Contains: Sanji's fucked up thoughts on gender, feminization, humiliation, lingerie, cross dressing, hand jobs

The kitchen door is locked, and most have gone to bed. But here on one of the chairs Sanji sits disheveled and full of shame and lust. You’ve removed his tie and jacket a long time ago, and tugged open his shirt and slacks to the soft sweet prize that’s been waiting for you all day beneath stiff wool.

It’s a set of lacy pink underwear, a matching bra and panty set that you bought with Sanji under the pretext of wearing it yourself. So consumed by thoughts of you in lacy bralettes and bikinis spinning through his head Sanji had neglected to notice they didn’t match your measurements (which he had of course memorized, as any good shopping companion should).

The long hours since you had connived him into the set this morning with soft kisses and softer touches had become tortuous, with Sanji hyper aware of the soft lace against his cock, and then comfortably forgetting, before swells of guilt at the thought that he was so little a man he could forget such a humiliation sweeping over him in turns throughout the day. 

Finally, finally, you had come flouncing into his kitchen long after the dishes were done, eyes full of mischief to offer relief to him.

And that’s how he had ended up here, eyes tearing as you stood between his legs softly stroking his cock through delicate pink panties until he came and soaked them through as you called him, “Good girl~”

#black leg sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #one piece smut #reader insert #x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji smut #fic #mine #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #also yes its the 21st and this is number 5 dont look at me #ive been having PROBLEMS #anyway the thing about Sanji smut is its about the SHAME 🤌 #i want to embarrass him until hes no longer functional and shooting his brains out his dick #its the fundamental tension between i could fix him- i could make him worse #synthesized by I could have gay sex with him #hes pathetic and that must be visible in everything i write about him #also im trusting yall to not be obnoxious about the politics of crossdressing on this #my writing

[ultraimaginez]

My Love Is Not A Joke - [Mammon x Reader]

Fandom: Obey Me! Ship: Mammon x gn! reader Word Count: 1.9k Rating: T A/N: just thinkin about the amount of effort it would take to convince mammon you actually like him and you’re not just being an ass to him like everyone else made me feel a lot of thiiiings and then this was born lol.

Mammon lives in a liminal space between fear and a love so fierce it threatens to consume him. It’s a hell of his own making-- too cowardly to tell you how he really feels and too devoted to let you go. 

And so you are forced to exist in this hellish space with him. Each time you try to get close he pushes you away, afraid he’ll be the butt of just another joke. Each time you try to give him space he pulls you back in, terrified you might leave him. It’s an exhausting game of tug of war between his ego and his heart and, frankly, you’re sick of being the god damn rope.

Eventually you reach your breaking point. 

You are lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying another days worth of back and forths between you and a certain white haired demon boy. This has become as much a part of your night time routine as putting on pajamas or brushing your teeth. Every flush of his cheeks-- be it in anger or embarrassment or affection-- every dumb argument, or sweet sentiment, or stupid joke. They all play like a never ending feedback loop in your mind. But tonight a thought strikes you as you roll over to finally try and get some sleep-- as long as Mammon is engaged in this endless war against himself you’ll be stuck in it right along side him. He’s never going to give himself peace. He’ll fight until there’s nothing left of himself. So if the two of you are going to get out of this mess it comes down to you.

It’s a scary thought, the idea you might have to be vulnerable and make the first actual move. Scary enough that you try and let it go. Maybe you can just sleep on it and think about it more in the morning.

But now you can’t think of anything else. The thought begins to ruminate in your brain and there’s no way you can sleep at this point. You stay awake all night wondering if there’s any other solution. Any other way out of this mess. It turns out you also exist in the liminal space between fear and love. The idea of telling Mammon how you feel is paralyzing. And so you go to school the next day not having slept at all.

This pattern continues for nearly a week. Each night you stare at your ceiling going round and round in circles. And maybe Mammon can take this awful tug of war but you certainly can’t. You don’t have millennia to stay away pondering this shit. You’re a mortal and you’re being driven in-fucking-sane. So finally, on the seventh night of nearly no god damn sleep, you fling off your covers and irritably begin stomping down the hall. 

You ignore Beel who is hip deep inside the refrigerator cleaning it out of whatever the hell is left inside. You passively wave to Levi when he sticks his head out of his room to ask you to play games and mumble some lame excuse. You’re on a mission to resolve this once and for all and nothing will stop you.

You make a beeline to your destination and once you reach Mammon’s door you begin to pound on it aggressively. 

A familiar voice rings out from inside. “Jeez, cool it, Lucifer. I told you, I’m working on it. I’ll have all these late assignments done by tomorrow just gimme some time.”

“It’s me.”

There’s a pause and you can’t practically hear the gears turning in Mammon’s head as he registers who is speaking.

“Oh well why the hell didn’t ya just say so? Come in.”

You open the door to his room and find Mammon sprawled out in one of the arm chairs in the center of his room. His feet are propped up on the table and his leather jacket is flung over the couch opposite of him, leaving him in his normal jeans and black shirt. You can tell he’s been running his fingers through his white hair in frustration as it’s mused and messier than normal and his brows are knit in concentration as he looks down at his notebooks. 

“Stupid Lucifer. Makin’ me do all this damn work in one night. It’s not fair.” He says, tossing the books onto the table as you shut the door behind you and approach him. 

You have a rebuttal about how it’s not exactly ‘unfair’ since all of that work had been assigned weeks ago, but it dies on your lips when he looks up at you. You can feel you heart jump into your throat as your eyes meet, the normal façade of the student mode dropped here where he is comfortable and alone. People often attribute fastidiousness with appearance with Asmo, but Mammon is usually just as put together. Seeing him so relaxed is special, it’s something you know he reserves for only people close to him. 

Your not sure how long you stand there at the edge of his chair looking down at him but it must be longer than normal because the sound of Mammon clearing his throat pulls your attention. “Eh? Do I have something on my face? You’re staring and it’s weirding me out.” His cheeks are pink and he looks absolutely anywhere but your face. “Anyway, what the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night? Couldn’t wait to see me until tomorrow, huh?”

Well.. It’s now or never. You’ve plucked up enough courage to make it this far so you might as well commit.

“Mammon, I like you. A lot. And I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable but I just... do. So. Yeah... Do with that what you will.”

If you weren’t borderline unhinged from the complete lack of sleep and frayed nerves and being so vulnerable, you would find the way his eyes quadrupled in size fucking hilarious. 

“Wha? What do you mean? Is this some sort of dumb prank.” You can see him looking past you at the door. He’s searching for his brothers, searching for a camera, searching for the evidence that this is all some elaborate joke at his expense. You can already hear the derisive laughter he’s waiting for playing in his head. ‘Stupid, Mammon.’ ‘How could you think they would ever like you?’ ‘Got you good, huh?’ ‘Actually thought that they might like you? You’re even dumber than we thought-’

You cut off whatever string of insults he’s playing in his own hand by gently touching his face, cupping his cheek with your hand. 

“It’s not a joke, Mammon. I like you. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way but... I need you to know that.”

It’s clear that the moment you touch his skin his internalized war rises into a crescendo. It breaks you open to see his eyes soften with a vulnerability you’ve never seen before, blue gold shimmering with an emotion you can’t quite place but sends your heart hammering harder than it ever has before... and then immediately they harden again. “Do you have a fever or something?! Jeez, leave it to a human to get sick right when I’m supposed to be doing something else. I don’t always have time to be-”

He begins to rise from the chair and it’s clear he wants to run, wants to hide, wants to lick his wounds before they can even form. You can tell he’s already written this off as another joke at his expense. If you let him get away from you right now you’ll lose that look you found in his eyes just moments ago for good.

You push down on his shoulders, seating him in the chair again, and then wordlessly climb on top of him, pinning him beneath your weight. Surely he could pick you up and yeet you across the entire god damn room if he wanted to, but the action seems to break the string of negative self talk long enough for you to actually speak to him. 

“Mammon.” You grab his face between your hands and force him to look at you. His expression is wild-- scared and hopeful and completely unguarded. “I. Like. You. And it’s not some joke. If you don’t feel the same way just tell me. But if you do-”

You don’t get to finish the rest of the sentence.

Mammon kisses you like you are oxygen and he’s on the verge of drowning. One hand shoots up to the back of your neck, pulling you close, tangling his long tanned fingers in your hair. The other comes to rest on your thigh. It’s all you can do to twine your own fingers through his soft white hair and pull him closer as he rocks into your body. You feel tears begin to well in the corner of your eyes as a surge of emotion races through you. You’ve never felt so much for one person in all your life. It’s enough to make you feel like you’re being crushed under the weight of it all. 

At some point you physically can’t keep kissing him because you’re afraid you might actually suffocate. You pull back to take in a breath but he continues to hold you close, keeping his hands in your hair, lips still only inches from your own. You look at him, his eyes are more gold than blue now and you feel like you might catch fire if you look at him too long. You let out a breathy “Oh...” 

Apparently he’s decided you’ve had enough time to breath and he’s on you again, pulling you close and making desperate little noises every time you part lips even briefly. You wonder if maybe you can die from catching on fire internally because every part of you feels like it’s engulfed in flames.

Eventually you manage to part again, long enough to put a hand on his chest and keep him from chasing your lips. You’re breathing heavily, trying to suck in air but finding it hard to do so when Mammon is looking at you like he’s just waiting for the chance to devour you again. 

“So..” your voice comes out an octave higher than normal and your face turns scarlet, clearing your throat so you can try to speak somewhat normal. “Uh.. I take it... we’re on the same page then? Y’know... about... stuff...?” You’re not exactly eloquent but Mammon just kissed you to the point of ceasing brain function so, really, who can blame you? 

There’s a beat of silence, and then Mammon speaks, voice deeper, quieter, and more serious than you’ve ever heard it before. “Don’t leave, okay?” 

You’re not really sure what he’s referring to. Leave this chair? Leave the Devildom? Leave him? But he’s raw and real and so fucking perfect staring up at you perfectly kissed like that and the answer comes to you without thinking. 

“Never. I’m never leaving. I’m here for as long as you want me.” 

Suddenly both of his arms are around your waist, drawing you close. Your face is pushed into his neck and his into yours. You breathe in the smell of his aftershave and shampoo and you’ve never felt more at home. Your hearts are pressed up against one another and you know you’ve never felt more right than in this moment. 

The last thing you hear him whisper as you drift off to sleep for the first time in nearly a week is a whispered. “Always... I’m always going to want you, silly human.”

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #mammon x reader #mammon x oc #obey me imagine #obey me imagines #obey me fic #fic #0-2k

[stillebesat]

Beneath the Moon -Part 1

December Drabbles Day 18  Sanders Sides: Logan, Roman Blurb: After all the research he’d done, after all the signs he’d been experiencing. Logan needed someone to tell him he wasn’t crazy. And Roman...Roman had always been the one most likely to believe in the fantastical, the impossible, the...supernatural. Fic Type: Werewolf!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Bite Wound -Semi-Detailed, Dog Attack Mention, Injuries, War Talk, Fighting Talk, Death/Dying Talk Taglist in Reblog.  

“A werewolf.” 

Logan swallowed, fiddling with the loosely wrapped bandage on his hand as he kept his eyes firmly on Roman’s ankles. “I told you.” He said. “It isn’t logical.” 

“Hence why you came to me because I’m…what was that phrase you used the last time we…talked?” 

Logan ran his uninjured hand through his hair as he ducked his head. Why had he ever thought, after how they’d left things off, that Roman would actually help him? The unhealing bite wound had to be infected and addling his brains despite the numerous doctors visits and medications he’d been on this past month that would prove otherwise. 

“I believe I called you a ‘pompous prick of a prince stuck in a permanent delusional daydream.’” He whispered.

Roman snorted, uncrossing his legs as he leaned forward like a hawk about to snatch up his prey. “Trust the Brain to remember such a phrase after what? Fifteen years, Lo.” 

This was a mistake. Logan made a noncommittal sound as he hunched his shoulders. But he’d seen Roman and just---reacted, instinctively trusting that he would be able to help. 

After all the research he’d done, after all the signs he’d been experiencing. Logan needed someone to tell him he wasn’t crazy. And Roman...Roman had always been the one most likely to believe in the fantastical, the impossible, the...supernatural. “It’s what I’m good at.” He said, closing his eyes, again fidgeting with the bandage. “Remembering things.” 

He’d been teased constantly for his memory all throughout school. Been called Sherlock or Brain so often that half their graduating class didn’t know his actual name. 

Which made the fact that he couldn’t remember the fever filled two days after he’d received this...this bite...from that black dog--wolf?...more concerning.  

And after a month’s long session of ‘research’ into his wound, his further symptoms, and the circumstances around his bite and the dog--wolf that had bitten him…had led him to the only explanation that fit the entire experience. 

He’d been bitten by a werewolf. 

And if...IF this was true, his research pointed to the strong possibility that in under an hour, when the full moon rose, Logan would forcibly be changed from man to wolf. 

He didn’t want to believe it. 

But all the signs pointed to it. His sudden allergy to silver. Cats no longer liking him. An increase in appetite, especially for red meat--which Logan had historically disliked the taste of. His eyesight inexplicably improving to the point where he no longer needed to wear his glasses. His sense of smell and hearing randomly becoming overwhelming to the point he could barely function only to return to normal a split second later. And most importantly, the fact that the bite wound on his hand would not heal, which a very dusty book from the library had stated would not vanish until after the first full moon after the bite occurred---all pointed to him being a werewolf.

 But it wasn’t like Logan could just tell anyone about this theory of his. About what he thought could happen tonight.

After all, werewolves shouldn’t exist. 

To confide to anyone that he thought that they did and that he could become one tonight because he’d been bitten by a dog that looked like a wolf--

“And you thought...that I was still this...delusional Prince?” Roman asked, raising an eyebrow, his amber eyes glittering. “Willing to go along with any make-believe or fantasy adventure that comes my way at the drop of a hat?” 

Logan could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and hated himself for it. Of course it was crazy to expect that Roman of all people would believe him. 

In retrospect he probably was the worst choice Logan could have made when choosing to confide in someone. After all, they had been, for all intents and purposes, enemies for the past fifteen years. 

Yet Logan had momentarily forgotten that little fact. Had only remembered his childhood friend who had lived and breathed adventure growing up and would probably be the one most likely to believe him when he saw him pull into his driveway. 

A Child’s fantasy was a lot different from an Adult’s though.

And Roman...Roman had gone from wanting to be an Actor in high school to choosing to serve three tours overseas in the War and coming back a decorated hero. Someone who had seen the darker side of being a modern day knight in shining armor and yet had chosen to embrace that reality anyways. 

Even sitting, Roman commanded the room. He was all confidence, a lion lounging on his throne, claws only sheathed because there was no need to use them...yet. 

And if things went…badly. It was all too likely that he would use those warrior skills and shoot Logan the moment he...he changed. After all, Roman was now trained to see threats and take care of them.

Werewolves were historically, in their lore, always a threat. A danger to society.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut, conscious of how his heart rate had picked up. 

Mistake. Mistake! MISTAKE!

He had under an hour to get to a place where he could potentially shift in safety. Where he could test his theory of what he was and how he would change without endangering himself or any people who might be around and here he was talking to his high school enemy like he expected Roman to take him in like a lost injured puppy.

Logan pushed to his feet, bringing his bandaged hand to his chest protectively. “My apologies, Roman.” He said, unable to look up from the ground to properly face him. Roman probably was staring at him like he was a crazed loon after his sudden appearance on his doorstep and the ludicrous story he’d just told. “I shouldn’t have intruded in such a manner.” He turned for the door. “I’ll see myself out.”

He’d been so desperate to find someone, anyone to humor him. Someone he could trust. To help him test out his theory. To make sure that IF he changed. If something went wrong. That--that if he--he became a crazed bloodthirsty beast, there would be someone there to take care of it--keep him safe from hurting others. 

Or…if nothing happened. Which Logan desperately wanted to believe. That nothing would happen. That the moon would rise and he would just be standing there, perfectly fine and definitely embarrassed to have indulged in such a fancy...that someone would keep his momentary lapse in judgement quiet--

He highly doubted that Roman would keep this particular visit quiet. What sane person would? Logan probably looked like a crazed lunatic, showing up out of the blue in an old NASA t-shirt and worn jeans, spouting off theories on how he could be a new-made werewolf going to change for the first time tonight--Roman should have called the police as soon as he opened his mouth.

Logan would have, had their positions been switched. 

He tensed, breath hitching as Roman caught his wrist in an iron grip before he’d taken three steps, conscious of the fact that his childhood friend probably now knew twelve different ways to incapacitate him before he could blink.  

“You didn’t show me the bite wound.” Roman said, voice soft. “How can you tell me such a fantastical story and expect me to believe you if you don’t show me your key piece of proof?” 

Logan bit his bottom lip, daring to glance at his childhood friend, gauging how serious he was about seeing the injury. 

“Well?” Roman held out his hand, palm up towards Logan. “It’s not like I haven’t seen my fair share of battle wounds, Lo. I doubt your little bite will compare.”

That was true. Roman had seen battle. War. People dead and dying.

Logan steeled himself, he’d been careful about who touched his injured hand, not sure what the wound would do should it come in contact with another. “It’s not a little bite.” He said, reluctantly holding it out to him.  

He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll be the judge of that.” 

Logan looked away as Roman unraveled the bandage. His feet shifted in place as he glanced at the clock on the mantle, watching the second hand tick its way closer to the full moon’s rising. 

It was odd...Roman had never needed proof before. He’d been the sort to take people at their word and go harring off at the slightest hint of an adventure.

Obviously he had changed far more after high school than Logan had anticipated. It was--

Roman whistled as the last of the bandages fell to the ground. “This...happened a month ago?” He asked, turning Logan’s hand over studying the bite that formed a large crescent shape from his middle finger down to his wrist. 

“Twenty-eight days.” He corrected, wincing as Roman gently poked the wound. He’d been attacked on the last night of last month’s full moon cycle. 

“It looks--”

“Fresh?” Besides the visible lack of blood coming from the wound, it looked like it could have happened only minutes ago.

“Horrible.” Roman frowned. “I’ve seen men take sharpenal to their hands and this--just a bit more pressure and you could have lost your thumb and two fingers--”

Logan winced, his stomach twisting. “I know--I didn’t.” It had been a close thing though. He could have lost half his hand if the wolf had dug its teeth just half an inch deeper into his flesh and pulled, it was a miracle he could still use his fingers at all. Another inconsistency really, with normal dog bites. His hand still worked perfectly despite the large wound maring half of the surface that should have destroyed his tendons and muscles.

“And you’ve tried--”

“Everything short of surgery.” And with his hand able to function normally, no Doctor was willing to try that just yet, not after a single month. “Nothing heals it.” 

Roman hummed. “An unhealing wound.” He mumbled, looking up. He frowned, raising a hand to Logan’s chin, turning his head this way and that as he peered into his eyes. “Did you always have a golden tint to your irises?” He asked, trailing his fingers down to press gently against the side of Logan’s throat, where the pulse of his heart frantically pounded against Roman’s warm fingers.

Logan swallowed, feeling the color draining from his face. Golden tint? “No.” He whispered. “They’ve always been green. You know that.” 

Roman clicked his tongue, abruptly pulling away from him and crossing his arms. “Okay. Say, hypothetically, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

Logan blinked at the sudden change in tone. “You don’t?” He asked, not quite believing he was hearing this as pulling his hand back to his chest. It would be pointless to try and rebandage it with the moon so close to rising.

“Hypothetically.” Roman stressed, giving him a tight smile. “If you are going to turn into this--” He waved a hand around. “Werewolf creature. What exactly did you want my help for? Cus I highly doubt you’re thinking something stupid like true love’s kiss will work in this particular scenario of yours that you’ve set up.”

To Be Continued.  Part 2

#Beneath the Moon #December Drabbles #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Logan #Roman #Logic #Creativity #Werewolf!Logan #Werewolf!AU #bite wounds tw #injuries tw #war talk tw #fighting talk tw #death talk tw #mentions of Dog Attack tw #December Day 18

[pips-fics]

ask: hello :] could i request a fic where maybe yechan's messing around with the rest of the group (maybe during a game, like their minigame heaven?) and ends up with a concussion, and the boys take care of him afterwards? thank you!! (also! trying to choose a favorite lucy fic on your survey was difficult bc i love all of them lmaooo, but especially the ending of your recent wonsang fic, yeop's little comforting bit with the tentative song was super soft and cute :(

tw: blood (from a bloody nose), a head injury/concussion, mentions of alcohol/drinking, fears about death and brain damage from injury, lots of medical inaccuracies (probably), hospital setting

thank you again, anon, you're so sweet <3 i hope you enjoy the fic!!

caution: ghost stories may cause injury –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

the clatter of raindrops against the roof was a soothing backdrop to the absolutely bone-chilling stories that gwangil seemed to never run out of. it had been yechan’s idea - telling ghost stories while they were drinking. gwangil was always teasing him for being too scared to hear them, and yechan had hoped the alcohol would help. wishful thinking, it turned out, but the realization came too late, because there was no way yechan was backing out after egging gwangil on.

it didn’t stop him from curling up in the safety of sangyeop’s lap and covering his ears for the scariest parts of each tale. it didn’t stop him from whining about how sangyeop was the only nice member of their band, either, because that earned him a placating head pat from the vocalist, which felt quite nice.

at the other end of the couch, wonsang was doubled over, cackling at yechan’s terror and at the stories gwangil was telling. he was laughing so hard his stomach evidently hurt, which, in yechan’s opinion, served him right.

still, nights like this were quite fun. sangyeop, who was authentic and kind even on his worst days, became warmer and softer at times like this, and absentmindedly carded his fingers through yechan’s hair. yechan felt safe, even with the fear, which really did him very little harm in this environment. gwangil was a fantastic storyteller, all the more dramatic with the buzz of a few beers, and looked adorable with his cheeks flushed pink. the rain continued on, a steady and calming rhythm to support the melody of wonsang’s laughter.

yechan wished nights like this would never end, but drowsiness began to weigh on him. he sunk into it, breaths deepening and evening out, and thought that he hadn’t felt so relaxed in a long time.

moments later, a clash of thunder jolted him awake and into motion. there was a moment where reality and his dreamscape blurred, and so in an attempt to scramble away from a hazy looking darkness that was probably a ghost, yechan smashed the back of his head against whatever was behind him.

almost immediately, yechan’s ear was assaulted with a too-close cry of pain. he jumped up and away from the noise, still half-asleep, and tripped over the coffee table. yechan realized with a touch of humor and a hefty sense of guilt what must have happened just before losing consciousness.

——

the room felt far too bright as it came back into focus.

“woah, hyung, are you okay?” gwangil’s voice roared loud in his ears, enough to send spikes of pain through his head and stabbing at the back of his eyes. yechan thought the younger man must have been right next to him, but as he took in his surroundings, he realized that gwangil hadn’t even been speaking to yechan, but to sangyeop, a few feet away.

he must not have been out for long, then.

his relief was short-lived. sangyeop’s face was a bloody mess, expression scrunched up in pain. as his eyes met yechan’s, he tried to mask it, but the damage was done. yechan felt sick at sangyeop’s forced smile.

“i’m alright,” sangyeop said, taking a tissue from the box gwangil was offering. “looks worse than it is, i’m sure. yechan-hyung, are you okay?”

“yes,” yechan croaked, finding his throat painfully raw. sangyeop really was the kindest out of all of them, he thought, feeling triply miserable. yechan wasn’t at all sure that he should be standing, but he figured checking on sangyeop was the least he could do, so he made his wobbly way back to the couch.

well, yechan thought, he’d managed to ruin their peaceful night. wonsang, who rarely drank but always mellowed out when he did, was now standing with his shoulders hunched and tense. everyone else looked just as alert. they were all very much awake and feeling as sober as they’d ever been. it was unlikely that anyone was going to want to hear any more scary stories.

yechan felt his eyes burn with tears of anger and embarrassment, and tilted his head back so that they wouldn’t fall. he regretted the action almost immediately. black spots ballooned in his vision and pain bloomed from the back of his head. it was enough to make him woozy. fortunately, wonsang caught yechan before he toppled over, his brows furrowing in concern. yechan quickly waved him off.

“sorry,” he said, wiping away the wetness he’d failed to keep from his cheeks, “i’m no good with blood, and the alcohol, you know, it doesn’t help.”

wonsang nodded, even though he didn’t look convinced. he looked viscerally worried, actually, which made yechan worried, so he turned away. what he couldn’t see would hurt less.

“we should all get some rest, probably,” yechan said, trying to move on from wonsang’s silent interrogation and also genuinely wanting to sleep. he snuck a quick glance at sangyeop (the sight of blood really wasn’t doing him any favors) and was relieved to see that gwangil was helping him clean up what looked to be the tail end of the bleeding.

the others readily agreed with yechan’s suggestion. it was nice to be listened to, for a minute, until yechan found himself alone and in pain and still sick to his stomach, only now he didn’t have the excuse of being grossed out by blood which meant that something might actually be wrong.

maybe he was just tired. yechan tried to convince himself that was it, but something told him it wasn’t. then again, it might have been the voice of his paranoia saying that, telling him that he might have a concussion and that something awful could happen if he let himself fall asleep.

even when he tried, though, sleeping eluded him. the pain had not lessened and had spread to his neck, and even the soft pillow hurt his head. yechan bit his lip, tried to make himself think clearly, and concluded that the solution was informing himself on head injuries via the infinite wisdom of the internet.

the internet told him that he might be dying, that he might have lose his memory or his ability to speak, that maybe his brain has become more akin to a scrambled egg than a functional part of his body, and all sorts of other things that yechan tried desperately to be okay with, or to not think about at all. he tried to focus on the rain, but the rain - the soft, soothing rain, even without its thunder - seemed to have turned on him. he no longer heard a rhythm, but the echo of what felt like each individual drop, amplified, booming, and painful.

——

about three hours later, gwangil found yechan curled up in a corner of the couch, crying softly. his computer was balanced precariously on his knees, light glaring off of the wetness on his cheeks, and gwangil could see that his eyes were bloodshot.

“hyung!”

yechan responded as though he’d been struck, flinching away with a muffled whimper.

“gwangil,” yechan whispered, sniffling. “stop shouting.”

gwangil, who could not remember the last time he’d heard yechan whisper - if he ever had at all - was thoroughly shaken. one thing he was certain of was that he had never seen any of his hyungs cry - not from anything other than being overwhelmed by emotion during a performance.

he didn’t know what to do.

for a few moments, his hands fluttered about uselessly, looking for something to touch, something to fix - but even just speaking had caused yechan pain, so he didn’t dare make contact with the older man. instead, his fingers settled on the the computer and pulled it from it’s owner’s easily relenting grasp.

as soon as he saw what was on the screen, gwangil felt ice cold fear shoot through him. it must have shown on his face, because yechan’s hand, unsteady as it was, ran up and down his arm.

“it’s okay, gwangil,” yechan said, breath shaky. “it’s– i’m just–”

yechan broke off, the absence of words speaking for itself. gwangil inhaled slowly. the instinctual fear had begun to melt away. as soon as yechan started comforting him, gwangil began to understand that the older man was scared, too, and that the words on the computer screen said more about yechan’s fears than about his actual condition. gwangil knew how internet searches went when it came to investigating one’s health.

he nodded, and took another deep breath.

it was probably not as bad as they’d both feared. yechan would most likely be okay. that didn’t mean that gwangil would take this lightly. something was wrong, even if it probably wasn’t life threatening.

another breath.

he thought about how long yechan had sat here alone, hurting and scared and putting himself at further risk, deliberately keeping it all to himself. gwangil thought about how little that mattered, and felt his momentary frustration dissipate. it had been hours already, and yechan was still worried about this - he wasn’t a hypochondriac. something was wrong.

“hyung, you know, right?” gwangil said at last, trying to speak gently. “we have to go to the hospital.”

in the silence that followed, gwangil feared that yechan had stopped breathing.

“okay,” yechan said quietly, finally, exhausted and resigned. and then, in the same voice: “i think i’m going to throw up.”

“…fuck.”

gwangil didn’t know that much about concussions, but he was fairly certain that it was bad practice to move someone with a head injury. if yechan’s uncharacteristic stillness was anything to go by, he would guess that the internet agreed. he didn’t want to leave yechan alone, either, but after careful consideration, gwangil decided being quick was his best bet. he darted off, first to the bedroom. he shook sangyeop awake - quite roughly, probably, but he didn’t have time to be gentle.

“‘gil? wad’s wrong?” sangyeop slurred, half asleep, still.

“yechan-hyung’s hurt his head–”

sangyeop stood up so fast, he almost passed out before he could do anything to help. gwangil steadied him.

“we’ll need you to drive and - can you keep an eye on him? i’ll be right there.” there was a snag in gwangil’s voice, suddenly, the kind that meant a seam was about to come undone and ruin an entire garment. they didn’t have time for that, but sangyeop took a moment to lay a reassuring hand on the back of gwangil’s neck before they parted ways. it was a taste of “you did well, thank you” without the exact articulation - but the words would have to come later.

sangyeop found yechan sitting in the dark with his head in his hands as if it weighed a hundred pounds. he approached slowly, and spoke softly. “yechannie-hyung?”

yechan didn’t even look at him. “sangyeop?”

he hummed lightly in confirmation, and blinked quickly, willing his eyes to work better than they were meant to in the dark. yechan had a hand over his mouth, and sangyeop winced. he suddenly understood where gwangil had run off to, and hoped he wasn’t having too much trouble finding what he was looking for.

“hyung, can i rub your back?”

there was a moment of hesitation, and then a very quiet “please.”

sure to move slowly in order to avoid jostling the couch, sangyeop sat next to yechan. the older man slumped against him, and sangyeop could feel him trembling - from pain or nausea or both, sangyeop wasn’t sure.

“i don’t want to go to the hospital,” yechan mumbled. his voice was muffled against his hand, and unsteady. something like a broken laugh seized him before he continued, “we haven’t left yet, and i already want to come back home.”

sangyeop ached. it was something he excelled at, aching for the people he loved. sometimes it was a strength, and sometimes it just hurt. “i know,” he gently massaged yechan’s shoulders. “it will be okay,” he said.

gwangil returned with a mixing bowl soon after that, so sangyeop never found out if yechan believed him. as soon as the bowl was in yechan’s arms, he was retching. it came on violent and painful - with every retch came a gasp of pain at the movement, and the pressure, and it wasn’t long before yechan started crying.

sangyeop offered a hand, and yechan squeezed it readily. with his other hand, sangyeop did his best to hold yechan’s head steady as his body expelled the day’s meals and the night’s alcohol as well as it could.

in the end, once it started, it was over quickly. after about five minutes of unproductive retching, yechan’s body rebelled suddenly and forcefully, ejecting all of its contents one wave after the next. sangyeop worried that yechan didn’t have enough air, and found gwangil’s muttered reassurances to be a comfort, even though they weren’t meant for him.

fortunately, yechan retained consciousness, sputtering coughs earning him oxygen as his body let up. even so, it was alarmingly clear that the ordeal had sapped every ounce of energy he’d had left. tears streamed down his face, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

gwangil took the bowl without a word, and sangyeop stayed with yechan, hoping the silence was a comfort.

“it hurts,” yechan said, brokenly.

“i know,” sangyeop whispered. the older man looked miserable. “hyung, we’re going to have to get you to the car. gwangil can catch up.”

any other day, sangyeop was sure yechan would have wanted to wait. he hadn’t meant the suggestion to be a test of how poor yechan was feeling, but it confirmed it anyway, had there been any doubt.

“okay.”

gwangil caught up to them well before they made it to the car. they’d taken the stairs, weary of the damage an elevator might do, and it was slow going. by the time they made it to the car, yechan seemed to have run out of tears, or perhaps stopped them by sheer force of will.

fortunately, the hospital wasn’t far. that didn’t make the drive easy, but at least it wasn’t long. yechan was so out of it by the time they arrived that he put up very little resistance about entering, even though it was one of his least favorite places. he was just too tired.

after filling out some paperwork and answering some basic questions, sangyeop and gwangil were forced to wait in the lobby while yechan was taken - more reluctantly, this time - for examination on his own. sangyeop took the opportunity to text wonsang and fill him in on the details, hoping it would soften the sting of being left out of the loop for a short while. gwangil went to the restroom, and returned with red-ringed eyes.

“gwangil…” the younger man turned away, embarrassed, but sangyeop just laughed and hugged him to his side. “you did really well,” he said. “yechan-hyung will be okay now.”

gwangil nodded, but didn’t seem fully convinced until the doctors told him the same thing. it was a weight off of everyone’s shoulders. they were told that yechan needed dark, and quiet, and rest, which would be best achieved at home - but that he should stay the night for supervision. sangyeop and gwangil both decided to stay. it was an easy decision, no conversation needed - there were only a few more hours until morning, anyway.

——

wonsang woke up to a series of text messages that felt like a horror story.

he knew it wasn’t sangyeop’s intention. it was just the way he explained things: chronologically, rather than in order of importance. like, say, maybe mentioning that yechan was going to be fine right off the bat, instead of burying it in the middle of expository explanation and loads of medical jargon.

he knew they’d had other priorities, but he still intended to complain about it when they returned.

it didn’t happen. shocking, really, because wonsang was fond of harmless complaining. it generated good discussions, and he liked the attention, sometimes. he liked the reassurance that he would be heard, if he needed something.

this time, though, wonsang took one look at yechan and wanted nothing more than to make him feel okay.

he was sure the previous night had been worse, but that wasn’t comforting. the yechan wonsang was seeing looked fragile and brittle and pinched - it made him look old, the pain. wonsang wasn’t used to believing the age on yechan’s ID was accurate.

“hyung…” wonsang’s voice was watery when he spoke, much to his own surprise. even having sifted through sangyeop’s messages to find the reassuring truth that yechan would be fine, the worry had been overwhelming. it was still there, but seeing yechan home, in person, had a bigger impact than wonsang had prepared himself for.

“aw, wonsangie, don’t cry,” yechan said, teasing, but his eyes were warm and understanding. gwangil snorted, softly.

“says you.”

sangyeop elbowed the youngest of the group gently, and wonsang wasn’t sure that he wanted all of the details behind that exchange, if tears were indeed involved. if he did, the figured he could get them later.

at the moment, he just wanted to know that yechan was alright.

the group had breakfast together, just a light meal. they agreed that wonsang would keep watch on yechan while gwangil and sangyeop caught up on their sleep, so the group parted ways after that - half of them to the bedroom, the other half to yechan’s bed in the living room.

it wasn’t exactly reassuring, seeing yechan so compliant. wonsang tried to stay quiet, reminding himself that’s what yechan needed, but once he’d ensured that yechan was comfortable and properly resting, the words slipped out anyway.

“hyung, are you really okay?”

yechan blinked slowly, drowsiness clearly weighing him down, and he smiled. “wonsangie, come here.” wonsang obeyed, and yechan brought wonsang’s hand to his own chest. “i’m okay. you can feel it, right?”

under his palm, yechan’s heart beat. it was a steady rhythm, comforting. at times, wonsang had sought out his own pulse for similar reasons. rainy days had never been good to wonsang, and he liked to blame the inconsistency of the rain’s pounding for that, but the steady beat of a heart felt nice.

“it was scary,” yechan said suddenly, honestly. “and it hurt. it still does, but it will heal.”

wonsang’s breath shuddered, and then smoothed. “i’ll stay with you, hyung,” he said. he could hear a smile as yechan spoke again.

“i know.”

——

a very quick reader survey (specific to this fic!) to give your input on some exclusive previews of upcoming fics and to make my day! :)

——

feel free to send more asks! / rules

#tw vomit #tw emeto #emeto tw #sick yechan #tw concussion #head injury #tw injury #tw blood #lucy sickfic #kpop sickfic #sickfic #shin yechan #choi sangyeop #shin gwangil #cho wonsang #tw anxiety #lucy #tw throwing up #tw hospital #[ caution: ghost stories may cause injury ] #omg this is my longest fic to date #finally broke 3000 words :D #and i still have a longer fic in drafts :') #good job pip ur getting there

[unresolved-kpop-thirst]

chilling with roommate!wonwoo and he’s lowkey watching you and you’re like what and he says “can i try to make you squirt” and then proceeds to finger you and overstimulate you to get his sheets soaking

God okay he's not subtle though. He keeps glancing up at you from his phone while you're busy playing some little game on yours, and while he's distracting you you're more interested in your high score than him right now. You hang out all the time and whatever's on his mind can wait.

"Ouch," you say flatly, and his gaze snaps to your face. You hadn't really been paying attention, but he was already looking in your direction - just not at your face. Where did he think he was staring so intently?

"What?" He asks, looking to your phone to see you're still mid level.

"I feel like somebody is staring a hole through me," you tell him, finally glancing up, and just like that you catch his eye and lose your high score in an instant.

He would normally laugh at you for failing a level he knows you can beat, but he actually looks sort of... nervous. You go from annoyed to concerned right before he opens his mouth.

"Can I try to make you squirt?"

Your mind blanks at the question that's so out of the blue, and you give it a second to reboot.

Then you laugh.

"Is that what was on your mind?" You ask him, incredulously, putting your phone away so you can scoop up a pillow to throw at him that he absolutely fails to dodge, setting his glasses askew.

"I'm serious!" He protests, hugging the pillow to his chest, and you wonder how a guy who looks like him can be so fucking Baby.

"I can tell by your super serious face," you snipe back, grabbing for another pillow, and he leaps forward in reaction, tackling you onto the mattress. "Oof! You're heavy!"

"That's so rude," he admonishes you, while you both wrestle a bit. You're less trying to win and more trying to get him in a good position on top of you, because of course you're going to say yes eventually - you just wanna razz him first.

You wiggle underneath him until your legs are bracketing his hips and he has your arms pinned over your head, and you raise your head to knock his glasses off with your nose so he has to let go to grab them. With one free hand, you squish his cheeks mercilessly.

"You were sitting there thinking about something like that! Which one of us is rude?" You tease him, and once he's set his glasses right he bats your hand away.

"Are you saying you don't want to?" He goes in for the kill quicker than you expected - he must really like this idea.

"I mean, it'll be messy," you say thoughtfully. "Sure you wanna handle the cleanup? If you can do it, that is."

His eyes narrow. You grin, and he rises to the bait.

"I can," he says, his voice dropping low, and he presses his hips down against yours. "I can make you cum til you forget your name."

You wrinkle your nose. "Well, yeah. But can you make me squirt?"

"Wanna find out?" He grinds against you again and you press up into it, arching your back and nearly lifting yourself off the bed so he has to use his whole weight to pin you down.

"Yeah," you say, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He lets go of your wrists and slides a hand into your shorts, teasing at your entrance.

"Fuck, you're so wet already," he says quietly, and you blush. You're so good at playing it cool until your body betrays you like that.

His fingers press into your heat and you moan softly, reaching up to hold onto his shoulders to ground yourself. Already he's finding every spot inside you that makes you melt in his hands. He rubs his palm over your clit, makes you grind up against him, pushing his fingers deeper and making you moan louder.

"Fuck, okay, take- I have to take these off," you say, while your brain is still semi functional, and Wonwoo gives you the space to wriggle out of your shorts before he goes straight back to it.

The thing is, you've done this so many times that he can bring you to the edge in minutes. But he's not doing it. He's crooking his fingers inside you, and fuck, it feels good, puts fire in your veins, but it's not enough.

"Wonwoo," you gasp his name and he looks at you, licking his lips. "What are you fooling around for? Make me cum. Do it, baby, I want it so much."

His eyes darken, and the press of his fingers in your cunt becomes an almost painful pressure as he wedges his hand under his hip, driving so deep you feel winded for a second.

"I'm going to," he says, thrusting into you. The simulated penetration hits different, your legs pulling up around his sides. "Gotta find just the right spot."

"O-okay," you nod breathlessly.

He twists his wrist, and you gasp, your head tipping back while a blinding pleasure surges through you. Wonwoo makes a noise in the back of his throat and pulls back to hit that spot again, and this time you swear loudly, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He slides a third finger in, stretching you around them, and starts fucking you fast and hard, his aim unerring. You cry out, you legs shaking, as a strange pressure builds alongside the heat coiling in your stomach.

"God, I- I think-" you stutter, and then all of a sudden you feel heat rushing through you, and the slick sound of his fingers fucking you thoroughly becomes impossibly wetter. Your cheeks burn and you go tight around him, holding back out of sudden shame - you really just-

"That's it, baby," Wonwoo murmurs, leaning down to bite at your neck. "Cum for me. Wanna see you all wet just for me."

His words make your skin prickle with heat, your thighs tensing as you try to hold back. You can only hold on so long until you snap, toes curling, back arching, breath catching in your chest as your release sprays up the length of his wrist, soaking into the sheets beneath you and his jeans.

"Good girl," he says, kissing your cheeks and slowing his hand to a stop. You gaze dumbly at him. "How's it feel?"

You have to take a second to organise your thoughts. It feels good, embarrassing, messy, maybe a little like a triumph.

"Feels wet," you respond, glib, making him laugh.

"Wanna keep going?" You shiver. You do want to, but whether you can take it is another question.

You nod anyway, looping your arms round his neck. "Mm hm."

He beams, wiping his hand on the sheets before reaching for the button of his jeans. You can see even before he strips them off that he's fully hard, and when he tugs his underwear down to free his cock the head is glistening with precum. You want to lean down and lick it, but Wonwoo doesn't even let you try. He grips your thighs, pushing them back until you're folded double, and sinks into you in one movement.

You let out a low, drawn out groan as your walls stretch around him, the glide of it slicker than it's ever been. You can't even think about the mess the sheets will be in - your whole world narrows to Wonwoo's cock filling your cunt. He lets you adjust for a minute, then experimentally, tilts his hips and hazards a thrust in.

Your legs shake and you whimper at the smooth, slow drag of him, in and out, building a rhythm. You grab his hand where he's still holding you firmly down.

"Does it feel good, baby?" He asks, leaning back and thrusting harder.

"Yes, god yes," you whine. His pace picks up, and your pleasure mounts alongside his - his soft, low moans accompanying yours as they rise in pitch.

"Then cum for me," he commands you. Your cunt tightens around him, sending the sensation of him filling you up skyrocketing. Your thighs twitch and you feel yourself hit the edge. This time you see it, your cum shooting out and painting his lower stomach, a hot rush of fluid that leaves you whimpering.

Wonwoo leans down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss you have absolutely no coordination to return, and you feel him cum inside you in hot, pulsing bursts.

He kisses you through it, until both of you are coherent enough to wind down to lazy, messy make outs. He lets your legs down, but stays inside you a little longer, gazing down at your dazed and sated expression.

"I'm in the wet patch," you remind him, soaked and starting to get cold despite his body heat on top of you, and he huffs a laugh.

"Right," he says, "cleanup time."

#svt smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #kpop imagines #hey anon this got away from me #absolutely set in the same timeline as my other wonwoo ask #it took me so long bc i started watching videos of him on yt #and got real soft #so this is less d/s than the other one #i hope you like it anyway!!

[americas-golden-boy]

Operation Merry and Bright

Summary: Sam Wilson is many things.

Highly trained former United States Air Force pararescue airman, Avenger, and above all else:

Expert matchmaker.

AKA the power of Christmas traditions bringing together Bucky and the girl from down the hall.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Word Count:  2,161

“Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Bucky.  It’s uh...” he trailed off, pushing a hand through his hair before dropping it to rest on his hip, head hanging slightly as if it’ll hide the wave of embarrassment that he’s feeling from the A.I., “It’s November, right?”

“Yes, sir.  It is November 13, 2017, your name is James Buchanan Barnes, you were born on March 10, 1917, you are in the Avengers Tower—“

“I’m okay, F.R.I.D.A.Y., thank you,” he cut her off, the corners of his lips curling at her reassurance.

Even with the trigger words safely removed from his consciousness along with the rest of HYDRA’s programming, it was still a long road to recovery dealing with the aftermath of his time as the Winter Soldier.  Nightmares were a regular occurrence, his training was always pushing at the back of his mind, and on rare occasions his memories would lapse, leaving him confused and disoriented.

At times like these, F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s programmed response to his mounting distress, if he was alone, was to recite facts, beginning with grounding him in the present and becoming more detailed as she progressed.  The last time he had snapped back into his mind was to her reciting a recipe for plum cobbler, something he had built up the courage to ask her for in preparation for the team dinner around Thanksgiving.

He found it almost sweet that on more than one occasion, such as just now, she did it even when he spoke to her directly, despite the realistic probability that he would recognize her in that state being close to zero.

Even for an A.I., she had enough sass and sarcastic wit to stand on par with her creator, and she still met every random question and whim he had with seemingly unlimited amounts of patience and understanding.  

Which, he supposed, she could really have.

He hadn’t forgotten the date, though.  Or at least he was relatively sure he hadn’t.  He figured it couldn’t hurt to check, but with that simple piece of information, he just found himself terribly, incredibly confused.

Because hanging from the ceiling, right in the middle of the hallway leading from the common area to his suite, was a mistletoe bunch.

Even with Stark’s eccentric party planning at every opportunity, not a single Christmas decoration had made its way to the residential floors yet.  Not on any of the floors, probably, but he hadn’t made any recent visits to the S.I. or R&D sections of the building, both out of a lack of necessity and a personal mission to avoid social interaction when at all possible.

As he shifts his weight to his other leg, arms coming to cross over his chest with a soft huff, he sifts through his recent memories, trying to determine the most likely culprits with a motive to hang up the offending piece of greenery.

“It’s not even Thanksgiving yet, where did they find this thing?” He questions aloud, thankful that no one else is around to see how ridiculous the whole situation is, even before he started talking to empty space, and even more so that F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn’t answer his rhetorical question.

I should take this down, she's in this hall too, it might make her uncomfortable, he thinks idly, moving under the bundle to inspect how it was suspended from the ceiling, muscles stiffening as soon as he fully processes the thought.

Could it be for you?  There’s really no evidence that it’s for him at all when he thinks about it objectively, and he really wouldn’t put it past a few of the other people on the team to hang it up as an excuse to see you flustered, or some setup to an elaborate prank, something he knew you’d been victim to more than once.

Almost all of which were headed by the same person.

“Fucking Wilson,” he grumbles under his breath, spinning on his heel to head to the training room and confront the man in question, before promptly rocking back on his other foot to prevent himself from knocking straight into you.

“Sorry!” You squeaked in surprise at the sudden movement and proximity, hand shooting out to grab his arm in an attempt to steady him if he needed it.

He didn’t, but he wobbled a bit longer than necessary to enjoy the feeling of your hand on the plates of his arm.

While Stark and Banner had made some improvements to the limb that HYDRA gave him until a new, upgraded prosthetic could be completed, he was still limited to the basic sensations of pressure and temperature along the surface.  

It made his heart swell every time you touched his left arm, knowing that you weren’t afraid of it and embraced it as just another part of him.  Despite this, he really wished you had grabbed his right, just so he could enjoy the contact of your skin on his.

“That was my fault, I should have heard you coming,” he managed to get out, the slight lift of your brows and the hint of blush spreading across your cheeks equal parts humorous and sweet, as your wide eyes flitted across his form to make sure he was securely planted before slowly releasing your grip.

Would it be too obvious if I just tipped forward?

“Didn’t know I had what it takes to sneak up on a super-soldier.  What did Sam do?” You questioned, slipping back into your easy banter with a small smile.

“Oh, right. I’m actually not sure if it was him yet but um...” he trailed off, foregoing completing his statement in favor of simply pointing above them.

She quirked a brow at him before tilting her head back and shifting her gaze to the ceiling.  

If her expression before had been humorous, this one was simply priceless.  

The blush erupted with renewed force across her cheeks with all the grace of paint splashed across a canvas, lips parting at the sudden drop of her jaw, eyes blinking owlishly before they shifted to focus on him again.

This time he couldn’t hold back the bark of laughter that came out of him, smacking his left hand over his mouth, the slight sting of the impact a punishment for possibly offending her.

“Is that...mistletoe?” She asked slowly, looking back and forth between him and the bundle.

“Yes.”

“In November?”

“That’s what I said.”

“And you think Sam put it there because...?” She trailed off.

“Well, uh, this hallway is just you, me, and him.  I highly doubt it was put there because of me, and he pranks you all the time.  He just seemed like a logical option,” he explains lamely, realizing how weak his logic is when forced to voice it out loud.

“That makes sense, and it probably was Sam, but it’s uh—“ she starts, peering over her shoulder at the end of the hallway— “it’s not for the reason you think,” she finishes, her voice lowering a bit as she fiddles with the bracelet on her wrist, a habit he noticed she had a tendency to do when she was nervous.

“Okay, well, what do you think is the reason he has to hang it up?” He decides on asking, the direct approach seeming like the quickest and most effective way to find answers to the question literally hanging above his head.

“He— Well we—“ she attempts to answer, eyes darting to look anywhere but his face, “We were talking about the holidays a few days ago, right?  And I really love Christmas, it’s probably my favorite holiday.  So we were exchanging stories, things we like about the season.  At some point I, um, I mentioned that I had never been kissed under the mistletoe, and that it was on my bucket list.  He’s the only person that knows that, I think, so, yeah.  It’s probably because of me.”

By the end of her rant the words are coming out in a rush, and she finally manages to meet his eyes again, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, the soft jingle of her charm bracelet drifting in the space between them.

His brain stops functioning.

Not really, he knows what that feels like, but it’s his turn to look dumbly between her and the bunch as he processes her confession.

It’s probably the most endearing thing he’s ever heard her say, and the warm feeling blooming in his chest creeps up the back of his neck in a way that is in no way unpleasant.

What she told him was also in no way an invitation, and he doesn’t even think he’s worthy of taking away an opportunity like that from her, but it doesn’t stop the image of her body pressed against his from pushing to the front of his mind, and the tingle in his neck turns into a burning electric current, shooting straight down his spine to rest in a roiling boil in his belly.

He realizes he’s still staring at her.

“Bucky?” She asks quietly, looking like she wants to melt right through the floor and he could kick himself for putting that doubt in her head.

“Yes, yeah, right.  I would say that’s sweet of him but uh, I doubt he did it with pure intentions.”

She huffs out a laugh and he feels a bit better for relieving at least a bit of her tension.

“Yeah, well, he’s probably making fun of me for being one of the only people that hasn’t done it.  He thinks it’s mostly for kids,” she concedes with another self-deprecating laugh.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he reassures her quickly, stepping closer to place a hand on her upper arm, startling himself with his own sudden movement, smile growing when she relaxes into the contact, “I haven’t either,” he adds on.

Her head snaps up to look at him so fast that he’s momentarily concerned about her neck.

“Really?” She asks incredulously, searching his face like she’ll be able to spot the lie.

“As far as I can remember.  I always spent the Christmas season with Steve and his Ma or my sisters, eating more popcorn than stringing it,” he confirms, chuckling at the memory.

“I thought you were a player in your day,” she teases, gently pulling her lip between her teeth as she grins at him.

“I might’a been,” he concedes, deciding to take the risk and trail his hand down her arm to grab her own, carefully holding it and checking her expression for any sign of discomfort, “but I spent the most wonderful time of the year with the most important people in my life, and if I had a girl I think I really would’a enjoyed the sweet and simple things.”

The smile she gave him nearly took his breath away.  It crinkled the corner of her eyes and shone brightly enough to compete with the star on the top of the Rockefeller Tree.

And in that moment it was just for him.

She slowly reaches up with her free hand and brushes the loose hair behind his ear, palm resting on his cheek with a tender swipe of her thumb.

“Bucky?”

“Mm?” He hums lightly, almost scared to break the moment as he leans into her touch.

“It’s a bit early but, will you kiss me under the mistletoe?”

The warmth in his chest explodes with the strength of a supernova, pulsing heat licking across every inch of him so hot he’s worried he’ll burn her where they’re connected.

He brings her hand to his lips, pressing a feather-light kiss on her knuckles before guiding it to caress his other cheek, resting his own hands on her waist and the small of her back, closing the last bit of space between them with a gentle tug.

“Nothing would make me happier, doll.”

He watches the way her eyes flutter shut, wanting to memorize every second of this moment before letting his own close.

There is no rush, the press of their lips is languid and soft and even better than he could have ever hoped for.  It’s not a kiss of desire, the embrace isn’t hurried and needy, it’s an acknowledgment and acceptance between them and says all of the words they haven’t gotten a chance to express yet.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when they pull apart, but it feels like no time at all and he already wants to sweep her away and continue for as long as she’ll indulge him.

With one last peck on her lips, he presses his forehead to hers, maintaining the contact that he had been yearning for so long.

“We might need to get Sam a fruit basket or something,” she says.

“Maybe. But he can wait till Christmas.”

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #fluff #christmas fluff #avengers #mcu #avengers imagine #avengers fanfiction #marvel

[eddieeatsass]

Put Your Hand in Mine

Summary: "It had been two years since he'd first kissed Eddie, and Richie was still unequivocally in love with him. He'd deluded himself into believing that his crush on Eddie would fade as time passed, that the memory of those soft lips would stop plaguing his dreams. But it only got worse as they grew, and as Eddie continued to shine brighter than the fucking sun. So sue him, he was head over heels." Pairing: Reddie Rating: T Read on AO3

It had been two years since he'd first kissed Eddie, and Richie was still unequivocally in love with him.

He'd deluded himself into believing that his crush on Eddie would fade as time passed, that the memory of those soft lips would stop plaguing his dreams. But it only got worse as they grew, and as Eddie continued to shine brighter than the fucking sun.

So sue him, he was head over heels.

Eddie seemed as oblivious as ever, and Richie had never been more thankful for anything in his life. Richie could get away with pining as openly as he wanted, and Eddie remained none the wiser.

He'd settled into comfort knowing Eddie was blissfully unaware of the way Richie felt about him. In fact, he preferred it that way. If Eddie found out, they'd have to have a conversation that would undoubtedly lead to Richie dying right there on the spot. So, Richie would much rather just pine from afar and avoid that whole situation.

Eddie's obliviousness is exactly why Richie felt so secure in asking Eddie to the movies that weekend. It had been a while since they'd done something just the two of them, and even though the one on one hangouts caused butterflies to scatter about Richie's stomach, he still longed for the moments he got to savor between just the two of then

Richie sometimes let himself indulge in the delusion that they were doing these things together as a couple, that when they sat together in the dark theater, Richie could reach over and intertwine their fingers. That he could feed him popcorn and then kiss those buttery lips when no one was looking. It was embarrassing really, that Richie would spend their time together pretending it was a date while Eddie simply enjoyed his time with a friend, but Richie allowed himself these small vices.

That vice, however, was a lot harder to reign in when Eddie showed up looking far more put together than what was strictly necessary for the movies. He was wearing a brand-new button down that Richie didn't recognize, and his hair seemed freshly cut. Richie just about lost his ability to function, fighting against everything just to keep from reaching out and grabbing Eddie by the waist, allowing the line between reality and his fantasy to merge.

"Hey Rich!" Eddie greeted him with that sunny smile that made Richie's world spin on its axis. Richie thanked the gods that he was leaning against a wall for support he hadn't realized would come in handy.

"Wow Eds, looking mighty fancy for a showing of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles." Richie commented, hoping he'd been able to school his tone enough not to reveal his current state.

Eddie shrugged, looking down at himself as if to assess Richie's claim.

"I know you're used to wearing the same three shirts on repeat, but normal people actually buy new clothes every once in a while." Eddie teased.

"Touché."

"Got the tickets?" Eddie asked.

Richie's legs stopped threatening to give out beneath him for long enough to push himself off the wall and begin making his way towards the theater entrance. He held up two tickets over his shoulder in response.

"Don't say I never treat ya, kid."

Really, Richie owed Eddie money from the last time they'd gone out, so it wasn't like he was paying for Eddie exactly. If he'd given the money straight to Eddie, it would have gone towards the ticket anyway, but this way Richie got to continue the charade in his head of being the doting date to one Eddie Kaspbrak.

They stopped for popcorn on the way to their theater room. Richie got M&Ms for Eddie because be knew he liked to dump them into the popcorn, and Eddie got an extra water because be knew Richie always got thirsty halfway through the popcorn bag. With their arms full and goofy smiles carrying them down the hall, they made their way to their seats.

Richie had almost digested all the butterflies that had made their home in his stomach. There were still a few that would flutter when Eddie looked at him a certain way, or when their fingers would brush as they passed the popcorn back and forth, but Richie was feeling much more capable of taming his betraying body than he was ten minutes ago.

The previews came and went, lighting up the theater with promises of future movies that Eddie and Richie would dedicate themselves to seeing. Every time Eddie would lean over and whisper a little ‘we need to see that’, Richie’s heart would flutter at the thought of being able to do this all over again.

When the movie finally started, they sank down into their seats and turned their full attention to the screen. It was a welcome distraction for Richie, and he let himself be fully pulled into the show unfolding before them.

 It was about 45 minutes into the movie when things changed. Their popcorn had long been finished, the bag sitting empty at their feet, and Richie was on his second water bottle (thank you Eddie). A fight was unfolding on screen, a battle between the ninja turtles and a new villain Richie didn’t recognize from the comics. He was so invested in the story that he almost didn’t realize when Eddie snaked his hand into Richie’s, which laid across their shared armrest with accidental invitation.

Richie jolted in his seat, having to physically hold back from letting out a noise that would probably get them kicked out. His head spun to regard Eddie whose head was still engrossed with whatever was happening in front of them.

Richie’s body felt like it was shutting down, stopping all executive functions in favor of rerouting his energy to the part of his brain that was trying to figure out what the fuck was happening.

The most logical reason Richie was able to come up with was that Eddie was a little shit.

Eddie always berated Richie for taking up the entire arm rest to himself every time they went to the movies, so this was probably his way of teaching Richie a lesson. He could almost hear Eddie’s voice saying ‘Well, I wouldn’t have to do this if somebody had learned the concept of sharing in kindergarten’.

Richie decided then that if Eddie was going to be petty, then so was he. He would hold Eddie’s hand until it got sweaty and unbearable.

 It never got sweaty and unbearable. In fact, the longer they held hands, the more Richie sank into the comfort it offered him. By the time the credits were rolling, it felt like second nature. Of course they were holding hands, this was Eddie and Richie loved him and therefore he held his hand.

That’s when the realization hit Richie like a freight train. He’d allowed himself to be consumed by his daydream, convinced himself that they were on a date and Eddie loved him back and unicorns existed.

Richie suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

“I gotta go take a piss.” Richie muttered, shooting up from his seat and speed walking out the door.

His hand tingled, still warm from the heat of Eddie’s. Richie shook it violently as if he could wick off his feelings like water.

 Richie took twice as long as he needed to in the washroom, dreading what was to come when he left the safety of his stall. He practiced what he was going to say to Eddie enough times that he was sure the entire male population at the theater had heard him, but he still found himself speechless when he walked out of the bathroom to see Eddie waiting for him.

“Hey.” Eddie smiled encouragingly.

“Hey.” Richie answered, mouth flapping open and shut like a fish out of water.

“So, if you want, uh, we can just forget that ever happened.” Eddie blurted suddenly.

“Do… you want to pretend it never happened?” Richie asked cautiously, trying to read Eddie’s expression.

Eddie took a moment before shaking his head. It was such a small movement Richie might have missed it if he hadn’t been observing Eddie so closely.

“It’s fine, Eds.” Richie continued nervously. “I’m no stranger to taking the joke too far. And now I’ve learned my lesson, I promise to never hog the arm rest ever again.”

Eddie’s face contorted in confusion, causing Richie’s to mimic the same.

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

Richie stared at Eddie calculatingly.

“…What are you talking about?”

“Richie.” Eddie sighed, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “What is going on in your head right now.”

“Uhhhhh, you held my hand because you wanted the arm rest.” Richie babbled dumbly.

Eddie continued to stare at him, that same amusement now accompanied by a smug little smile.

“And does that make sense?” Eddie’s tone was teasing.

“What other explanation is there?”

“That maybe…” Eddie’s hand reached forward, brushing against Richie’s delicately. “I just wanted to hold your hand.”

“That’s even less logical than my reasoning.” Richie countered with an exhausted huff.

“Why?”

Eddie’s face was completely open, but there was something vulnerable there too. Something Richie hadn’t seen in a long time, not since-

“Eds… are you… gay?” Richie made sure to ask in a hush, leaning closer to Eddie so those around them couldn’t overhear.

Eddie leaned in as well, closing the space between them until there was only a breath between their lips. Flashes of the first time they kissed clouded Richie’s thoughts. Eddie had grown so much since then, filled out into a body that harnessed all his allure in the perfect package. Richie wanted to know what it would be like to kiss him now.

“Are you?” Eddie whispered.

Richie gulped, nodding even though he had a feeling Eddie already knew the answer. In fact, it was seeming more and more likely that Eddie was privy to much more than Richie’d thought he was, and that realization was terrifying.

“Good, I’m glad we have that settled.” Eddie stated in an almost business-like fashion. Richie almost cracked a smile. "Hopefully our second date goes better than this one has."

Richie’s entire face went blank.

"THIS WAS A DATE?!" Richie shouted, earning a shush from Eddie through unrestrained giggles.

"Come on, Rich, I'm not completely oblivious. I knew you were asking me on a non-official-date date. I've known you for years, I know your tells."

"What tells? I have tells!?"

Before Richie could get an answer, Eddie was joining their hands once again, this time dragging Richie behind him towards the theater exit.

"What tells, Eddie?!"

Eddie simply looked over his shoulder, all innocent eyes and bashful smile. He seemed determined to keep his secrets for now, and to Richie's surprise, he didn't care all that much.

Because Richie was holding Eddie's hand, and it was infinitely better than that silly kiss had been all those years ago. This signified something, it was the start of Richie’s fantasies bleeding into reality, tangible in the way Eddie’s hand slotted perfectly into his.

#reddie week 2020 #reddieweek2020 #reddie fanfic #reddie fanfiction #reddie fic #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fluff #my writing #my posts

[punkrock-writer]

Space Cowboy- part 4

Roasting the Shit Out of Toro Because He Deserves It 

Pairing- Din Djarin x F!OC

Warnings- Mentions blood, fighting, swearing, Canon Typical Violence. Spoilers for The Mandalorian

A/N- WOAH It is here. 5.3k words. The longest chapter so far. Let me know what you guys think, is it still too short or too long, lemme know. And yeah, the end IS cheesy. I am the Mayor of Cheeseville it should be expected. 

And a reminder Din is de-aged a bit, he's around mid to late 20′s here, just for a little more ~spice~

Let me know what you think! I love hearing from ya’ll it helps me a lot :D 

Masterlist AO3 

She honestly didn't know how he was so quiet. That collection of Ironman armor should make much more noise than it does. Or he could have at least woken her up before screaming.

"HEY" Sedona jumped violently. Her eyes springing open in panic, he wasn't in the ship, but his voice echoed throughout it. She heard the panicked voice of Peli yelling outside. She scooted further into the middle of the hull to peer out of the open door. Din looked as intimidating as he could, shoulders raised and feet wide. Peli marched from her office up to him, cradling a wailing Grogu.

"Give him to me" she wanted to laugh. The paternal instincts kicked in so fast, albeit a bit misplaced and underdeveloped. But he tried his best.

"Not so fast! You can't just leave a child all alone like that." Peli cried out, though not entirely alone, she was right. "You know, you have an awful lot to learn about raisin' a young one."

And then much to Sedona's discomfort, Peli's eyes met hers.

"AND leaving an injured lady! No water or bandages, that isn't very kind. Prisoner or not." She scowled up at the towering Mandalorian, whose head slowly turned to meet hers. She quickly scooted herself back against the crate. She wasn't ready for that kind of attention, she needed to get her thoughts in order.

"Anyway-" she racked her brain as she heard Peli continue to talk about the ship. She had gotten this far in the episode, and Din had obviously made the deal with... that motherfucker whom she cannot remember the name of. She was so focused on trying to remember she didn't even notice Din had walked back onto the ship.

"I thought I told you not to talk to anyone." His voice made her jump once again, it was rough, a warning. Her wide eyes met his visor, and suddenly the right words met her tongue.

"Don't leave him alone with the bounty" they were rushed, she probably looked crazier than Peli's wild curls. "Y-you can't trust him, something bad is going to happen."

She watched as he turned with a bag in his hand. He looked like he was going to speak, or step closer to her, his body seizing up. Instead, his gloved hand curled into a fist at his side, and he spun quickly on his heel and exited her line of sight. She heard the pair talk a bit more, mostly Peli talking at Din's retreating back. Then she was alone again. And her ass hurts.

Standing up was much easier now that the magic space goo had somehow healed her knees. Though she had extreme doubts, she sincerely hoped Din might heed her warning. She really did not wan't to be caught in the crossfire of their shoot out that was soon to come. Maybe that was the worst part about being plunked into this universe. The constant dread of knowing what's going to happen, and having no power to change it, was going to destroy her. She could already feel the way her body sagged with exhaustion. The ever-present headache was taking a toll on her mind, and her fight or flight response was kicked into high gear. She hadn't felt like this in years.

Trying to keep her mind from straying too far into the darkness. She decided to do some light exploration of the Razor Crest. She wouldn't touch anything, as Din so kindly instructed. But she was definitely going to touch all over with her eyes. First, she was going to figure out if that man had a shower. She turned opposite the open door and headed in the direction of what looked like an airplane toilet. She was pleased to find a small door stationed adjacent to the weird space toilet. Obviously hidden from view on the show, it was a rickety metal sheet. Actually, everything on the ship was a metal sheet, but she wasn't going to roast it too harshly. Opening it, the oval-shaped door created an edge that she had to step over to enter the small room. The floor and walls were tiled, and there was a small drain in the middle. A large ledge jutted out from the wall at about knee height, above it was what looked like a sink, and a small foggy mirror. Avoiding its reflection, she ventured back further. There was a curtain, pulling it back revealed a showerhead and a series of ledges cut into the wall. She tried to keep her heart from fluttering at the sight of soap bars, and a razor. Then heat began to creep up her spine, embarrassment making its way to her cheeks.

How fucking old are you 13? Get a hold of yourself.

She spun quickly not wanting to be caught snooping. She felt like a high school girl who had just seen her crush's room for the first time. She was 26 for fucks sake, and it was a bathroom.

On a space ship.

On an unknown planet.

In a universe that had once only existed in media form.

She wasn't able to wallow in her embarrassment much longer, through the open door she saw Peli return from wherever she had followed Din. She walked with determination, coming up to some kind of machine that was attached to the ship. Sedona didn't really know what to do, she stood awkwardly in the hull of the ship. Listening to Peli mutter to herself, she hated feeling like this. She liked to be moving or at least distracting her brain in some way. Now there was only the unfamiliar ship, her bags were already organized neatly- and then it hit her.

She still had her phone in her purse.

Springing into action she darted for her bag, rummaging through it until she finally found it. It was an iPhone and she still had her headphones attached to it. Her heart soared in her body, unable to contain her smile at the sight, relieved to find at least this thing hadn't magically transformed into a space object. But clicking it on she was met with slight disappointment. Only 32% charged, and the fact that her phone was wicked old and functioned at about 60% of its normal battery life, it would be dying soon. There are no outlets in space. She thought angrily. So she sighed and set it back into her purse, deciding to save it for when she truly needed a mental escape. For now, she could maybe go and see what Peli was up to.

And that's how she spent her first evening in space. She sat at the table, watching Peli fix the Crest. Or making sure the child didn't eat sand or some shit. Peli didn't talk much while she worked, which she was secretly grateful for. Only asking occasional questions, or pausing to complain about the old ship. Sedona didn't offer much, vague answers, allowing the older woman to speak more than herself. She really didn't feel like having to convince someone else she's from an alternate universe. Especially someone who was very much capable of throwing her into the endless Tatooine desert.

In time it grew darker in the hangar. Peli wiped her hands off on her jumpsuit, leaving grease marks in her wake. Sedona held a sleeping Grogu in her arms, he had been quite a hassle for her to wrangle with her hands still cuffed together. He was quick, and incredibly sneaky when he wanted to be. He currently held some kind of bolt in his little clawed hands, one of the braver droids had given it to him when he was fussing in her lap.

"How about another round of some bone broth, and then we get some rest." She snapped her fingers at a droid, who scurried off to the back of the hangar quickly. "It looks like that little stinker has the right idea." Peli sat, the smell of oil and metal rolling off her. She grabbed the cup of water she had sipping out of periodically and drank. Then she turned to Sedona, who up until this moment had been zoned out, staring at the shadows cast on the ground.

"You look like you've seen some shit." Sedona's heart nearly stopped at that, but when she met Peli's eyes they glittered with amusement in the dim light of the hangar.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," she said with a laugh and a shrug. Then a droid appeared next to her, carrying more bowls of broth. She accepted it, thanking the droid once again. The liquid warmed her, she didn't consider how cold a desert got a night, and her shorts and men's t-shirt didn't exactly hold much warmth. But the broth helped, and she tried not to let Peli notice her shivers.

"Listen, I wanted to ask you something" Sedona almost choked on her broth. "I heard what you said to the Mandalorian, why do you think he can't trust that other bounty hunter?" Peli's gaze was quizzical, genuine curiosity, not suspicion. It gave Sedona confidence, but not enough to tell her the full truth.

"I guess I just have a really bad feeling, I think there's something off about the deal." She said after swallowing, and Peli was silent for a moment. Searching her gaze before suddenly leaning forward.

"You know I was thinking the exact same thing." She said it like it was the juiciest secret in school. "There was just something off in his eyes." She finished with a nod. Sedona couldn't stop her smile. She felt the beginnings of a friendship blossoming there in the cool evening. She hoped it wouldn't be ripped away from her too soon.

They finished their broth in comfortable silence. Then Peli rose, a mischievous smile on her face.

"Well, I'm going to take this little womprat to the back with me, if you need anything just holler," she said, reaching down to scoop the sleeping bundle from her lap. "You sure you'll be all right in that ship by yourself?"

"I'll be okay," she said with a smile, trying to look convincing "but Peli, if you see anything happening, take the child and run."

Her face turned serious, and she gave a curt nod.

"I'll make sure the droids stay awake, they'll give us a good warning" and with another nod, and a pointed look at the group of droids, she turned to the back of the hangar.

Sedona was alone again, and fear was beginning to crawl up her spine. She had to prepare herself. Somehow, she wasn't going to let that fucker touch baby Grogu.

~o~o~o~

Night came and went, Sedona spent it pacing. Somehow, that sneaky tin can had taken her taser, and her Swiss army knife. Leaving her with only pepper spray from her keychain to defend herself. She held it tightly in 2 hands, having finally sat down when she saw the hangar becoming light again. She heard Peli out in the open area, talking to the droids and the child.

"Here's a ration bar, I'm going to try to finish these repairs before the Mandalorian gets back." Peli had walked into the ship quietly, giving her the foil-wrapped bar, the child gurgling on her hip. The tension was thick between them, both women could sense something wrong. But if Peli wanted to say anything more she didn't, instead turning her attention to the ship, the child held tightly to her. Sedona honestly didn't feel like eating, her head was pounding again. The effort of trying to figure out the plot was scrambling her brain.

She didn't know how exactly to define it, but it felt like the memories of the show were drifting away from her. Scenes she had remembered and re-watched multiple times now were faint memories. It felt like she was losing her mind, literally the only information she needed right now was dissolving like snow in her fingers. So she settled for clutching her pepper spray and hoping the droids gave her a good warning like Peli said.

The droids held up their end well.

It was maybe 3 or 4 hours later, Peli had miraculously just taken Grogu to the back for some food and a nap. When suddenly the droids went absolutely batshit crazy.

Sedona sprung from her spot on the floor, her headache was instantly forgotten as she squeezed herself against an indent in the wall of the ship. Hoping to spring on the hunter. She heard his blaster fire, then it was eerily quiet.

God, I hope they can get out of here.

Sedona tried to keep her mind from straying from the task at hand. She tried to keep her breathing quiet, straining her ears for any sounds.

Those shitty self-defense classes are going to have to work today.

There were footsteps on the ramp. Slow, but heavy, he really was a pretty shitty bounty hunter. She switched the safety off on her pepper spray, trying to judge where he was on the ship by the sound of his footsteps. Then the barrel of a gun crept into her line of sight, and she didn't hesitate.

Springing from her hiding spot she sprayed upwards, toward what she hoped were his eyes. Based on the shouting she was successful. She did her best to ignore the burn in her own eyes as the fumes carried toward her. Taking his surprise as an advantage she attempted to kick him in the balls.

Keyword- attempted.

Sedona did not consider the fact, that he might be wearing goggles. And that he might catch her leg. With a shove, she was sent sprawling onto the floor, with no way to catch herself. Her butt hit the ground hard, knocking the breath out of her. She looked up to meet a gut-churning smile.

What a fucking dick.

"That tasted awful, but I don't think it did what you wanted it to." He said with a smug smirk, he was so incredibly proud of himself. "Look at this! A third bounty, I'm going to be the king of the Guild!"

Well, if Sedona couldn't beat him physically. She was going to try to demolish his ego.

"Fuck you, Toro, this is why your mom doesn't FUCKING love you" the words were filled with rage as they flew out of her mouth, she lunged toward him. Her mind suddenly supplying the correct name when she needed it most. His face immediately fell, twisting into shock and confusion.

"What do you know about my mother?" he sneered, taking a few steps forward to tower over her on the ground. But his intimidating stance did nothing to stop the pure hatred Sedona felt in her heart.

"You look like you watch Big Bang Theory on purpose." It was one of her more creative insults, her new goal was distraction. Try and confuse him as much as she could, so that hopefully Peli could escape with the child. It seemed to work so far.

"I don't know what that means, but I would shut the hell up if I were you" he leaned down and sneered at her. She grit her teeth, the insults flowing fast.

"Your earring looks like shit"

"I said shut up!" He raised his blaster to her head, a position she had just recently became familiar with. She met his eyes, and with as much bitterness as she could muster, she put the nail in her coffin.

"I know how you die, and you die like a bitch."

That was the last thing she could say. Toro reacted very poorly, to say the least.

And for the first time in her life, Sedona was pistol-whipped across the head. Toro stalked away from her body that laid slumped on the ship floor. Continuing on his original journey, much more confused and irritated.

~o~o~o~

The Mandalorian could not shake the sick feeling in his gut as he tied the dewback to the hitch outside of Hangar 3-5. One look at the speeder outside had the mysterious woman's words repeating in his head.

You can't trust him, something bad is going to happen.

It really didn't help that she was right. In fact, he hated that she was right. It was making his decision on what to do with her much harder. He unclipped his blaster, drawing it ahead of him as he made his way down the stairs. The hangar was quiet, aside from the annoying droid that startled him. He slowly made his way through the sand toward his ship.

"Took you long enough Mando" there he was. He stalked forward raising his blaster up into the dark ship. Calican emerged; somehow he got angrier at the sight of the child in his arm, and the scared woman who had been kind to him caught in this mess. "Looks like I'm calling the shots now. Huh, partner?"

Din wanted to roll his eyes and shoot him right then.

"Drop your blaster and raise 'em." This time he couldn't stop the eye roll, instead having to suppress an annoyed sigh as he carelessly flung his blaster to the ground. Twisting his body in a way that let him quickly grab a flash charge. He truly was a pretty shitty bounty hunter, this would be his final mistake. Din was irritated, just waiting for the right moment to strike. Calican handed it to him on a silver platter.

"Cuff him." After that, Din really didn't give a shit about what this guy said. Instead watching as the woman approached him with the bindings. He rolled the flash charge in-between his fingers. Waiting.

"You're smarter than you look" the woman whispered in his ear. Obviously not, if only he had listened to the woman she left in his ship. He wouldn't be in this mess.

The right moment came as Calican raised his blaster higher. The flash brightening the entire hangar for just long enough, Din slipped behind some of the junk lying around. Coming around the side before Calican even knew he had disappeared. It was over quickly, his body tumbled off the ramp, taking the child with it.

"Stay back." He tried to tell the woman, who scrambled quickly over to him as he went to inspect the body. He didn't like the way she fumbled around him, grabbing his cape as he tried to make sure the man was actually dead. Then he heard the babbles of the child. He didn't really register what she was saying to him, just thankful she was calming him down. Inspecting the body he found what he was looking for, the bag of credits was heavy in his hand.

Turning to the woman holding the child, he prepared to pay and leave.

"Be careful with him." She said, the child simply snorting as he was placed back in his arms. She then tried to break some of the tension, bringing up the question that Din knew she would ask. "So I take it you didn't get paid."

Din didn't really feel the need to say anything. Instead pouring the contents of the pouch into her outstretched hands. But he decided to make sure.

"That cover me?" The woman sputtered in response, giving a shocked form of Yes. Din then turned, making his way back to his ship, babbling baby in tow. Until he was stopped.

"Listen, I don't know what you plan on doing with that girl, but she fought to distract him. She tried to make sure I could get away with the baby." Din turned back to the woman, his curiosity peaking. "She told him she knew how he died, and something tells me she did. Sh-she was very nice and helpful. I think you should give her a chance."

Din thought about it for a moment. It seems she was truthful about yet another thing she said to him.

"I would protect the child with my life."

Internally he was glad it hadn't come to that, or so the woman who stared up at him made it seem. He nodded at her, hoping he conveyed his understanding and turned back to enter his darkened ship. He heard her yelling at her droids, but he was more concerned with finding out what state his ship was in. As the ramp closed, he flipped back on the lights. With a heavy sigh, he observed the way her body was crumpled on the floor once again.

There was a large, bloodied scrape on her temple, the area already beginning to bruise. The child was struggling in his arms again, letting out indignant cries as he reached for the girl on the floor. He set him down next to her and reached to grab her under the shoulders and knees. Deciding to move her much gentler than he had the first time. He didn't really know where to put her though; he spun in his ship, her body limp in his arms, the child followed him in circles crying out in frustration.

His eyes landed on his sleeping compartment, figuring that was better than nothing. He quickly set her into it. Taking a moment to remove the cuffs still on her wrists, he internally cringed at the redness. Another thing he should apologize for. He didn't feel comfortable sitting in the hangar for much longer. He scooped up the child, who was trying in vain to climb into the compartment with her.

"Come on we have to get outta here" he grumbled to the child, who was squirming in his arm. He paused to look up at him, angrily babbling at him before resorting to pouting as he was hauled into the cockpit. Din started the ship quickly, not entirely certain where he was going. He only knew he needed to sit down with the woman in the hull, and really figure out what the hell she was talking about.

~o~o~o~

Sedona really didn't want to wake up. In her dream, she was warm and comfortable, and definitely not about to get crazy-murdered by a space villain. Whatever she was laying on was slightly squishier than the floor, but only slightly. It felt like if you were to lay a thin yoga mat onto a wood floor and then tried to take a nap on it. But she kept her eyes closed, trying to stay in her comfortable bubble just a few moments longer. Whoever was shaking her leg did not get the message.

"Please, just let me pretend this isn't happening for a little while longer" she grumbled, not yet opening her eyes. She tried to imagine her bed again, her soft blankets, and a cup of her favorite tea. She could pretend her head didn't hurt, and her body didn't hurt, and her brain didn't hurt. She could pretend she didn't have to open her eyes and face more confusion and struggle.

"Please, I'd like to talk." A soft modulated voice was not what she expected. She slowly opened her eyes, taking in the metal ceiling above her. With a deep breath, she slowly sat up, taking in the sight before her. At some point, after she had been knocked out, she had been placed in Din's sleeping compartment. At the end of the 'bed' (she didn't really want to call it a bed this was awful) stood the Mandalorian himself, and Grogu was vigorously shaking her leg with 2 hands. He babbled excitedly when she sat up, looking up at her and giving a wide smile. "How is your head?"

The new gentle tone was mind-boggling. She could only stare at him, mouth open like a fish. Her head was bad actually, feeling very bad. She just got smacked across the head with a gun, she couldn't imagine how she looked. But the sudden shift in mood was what confused her most; there was a stumbling, awkward, sort of kindness in the way he stood and spoke to her. She searched the visor a bit more, not really sure what she was looking for. A particularly loud coo broke her from her distraction.

"It... could be better I suppose." She licked her lips, mind suddenly wandering in fear. "Where are we? Are we stopped?" The Mandalorian couldn't afford to just stop, so they had to be in hyperspace or he wouldn't be down here. Why was he down here exactly? When did the cuffs come off?

"Yes, we're still on Tatooine, I— I wanted to talk to you," he cleared his throat. "I had some things to say, and to ask." He turned and walked further into the ship, she just now noticed the door was open. Showing the dark Tatooine desert.

Oh!

She was going to be dropped off here. Left to wander the space desert. It was a short run of things, but at least it was horrible while it lasted. She slowly got up, moving around the child to set her feet on the cold ground. The child babbled up at her, raising his arms, and for a brief moment, she considered picking him up. Her mind flirted with the idea of carrying him over to the metal man who leaned against the hatch door. Looking out to the rolling sands together, in peace. But instead, she grabbed her purse and prepared for the worst.

"So I guess this is it?" She paused next to Din, nervously looking up at him as she twirled her purse strap in her hands. His helmet snapped to her, quickly his body followed, straightening out to face her completely. He looked down at her for a long time, his body tense. Her body heated up under his gaze, feeling even more nervous under the scrutiny.

"Do you think I'm leaving you out here?" He tilted his head at her, it was almost condescending. If she was able to re-wind it and analyze the tone of his voice, she would've caught the amusement.

"Well I mean you did leave me handcuffed on the ship for like 3 days, and then brought the Crest out to the desert. Which you would never do if you weren't going to...leave me here" she rambled. Her eyes searched the area around them, not meeting his visor. He was silent once again, just watching her squirm under his gaze. She didn't know how to read him in real life, he was so much taller, and without the fan analysis she could skim through, a lot of his body language was lost.

"I was going to apologize..." he paused, his voice soft but gravely. Her mouth dropped open, slowly looking up to his helmet. "I'm sorry for leaving you cuffed in the ship, but you have to admit, you sounded pretty crazy."

The humor was detectable now, and after a long moment Sedona smiled, and as the words penetrated her brain a little deeper. A chuckle bubbled into her throat, and before she knew it she was laughing. It wasn't that funny honestly, but this was the first display of emotional release her body had experienced in a while, so it kind of went overboard. When she finally calmed down she was breathless, tears gathered in her eyes. Mando just looked at her, head tilted in confusion, and when he folded his arms over his chest, she knew he was irritated.

"I'm sorry... that wasn't that funny, but I think I need to cry and that's as close as I'm going to get." She wiped a tear from her eye, looking back at the still Mandalorian. She quickly dropped her face when she saw the way he was standing, straightened her shoulders. "W-what else did you want from me?" She should know better to think she was off the hook, he could still freeze her in carbonite. He would probably be able to get some sort of profit from her. The thought had her shrinking, she suddenly felt small again.

With a hefty sigh, he readjusted, facing back toward the endless desert. His trend of silence was much for daunting when it wasn't happening on a tv screen. Suddenly something grabbed her ankle. Of course, how could she forget the 3rd passenger? With an incredibly grumpy face and some mighty grump squeals, he reached his arms up to her as hard as he could. She smiled in pity at him, it didn't feel right to pick him up in front of Din. It wasn't her place, and she really didn't want to upset him when he was deciding his fate.

"You can pick him up." His voice was soft again, though he hadn't turned to look at them. "He seems to like you a lot" Her eyes glowed, and with free hands, she bent down and picked up the little one. Finally being able to hold him properly was wonderful, he was a comfortable weight in the crook of her arm. His little dish towel onesie soft on her skin, she smiled at him, and he cooed happily. Looking up she found Din had turned around, looking on with a tilted gaze.

"I want to know... do things work out well for him." It was almost a whisper, true concern laced in his modulated voice. She had to think about it for longer than she wanted. Yes, as far as she knew things went relatively well for the child, as for the man protecting him that was different.

"You have lots of adventures, but he makes it out okay." She gave him a small closed-mouth smile. Thinking further filled her with hope. "D-does... this mean you trust me?" She searched his visor, hoping she met his eyes.

"I..." He cut off, his head shaking. "I don't know for sure what to think, I know you're not a threat, but I can't...comprehend the things you've told me." He inhaled deeply, letting out a long sigh. A gloved hand reached out to stroke the ear of the child. "But I can't shake the feeling that I need you with me, so I suppose you should stick around for a while."

As if he understood Grogu chirped happily up at you. His head turning back and forth between the two of you. Sedona's heart soared. She couldn't stop the smile that crept its way onto her cheeks. She felt like jumping, but she resorted to squeezing the little guy tighter to her chest.

"Thank you." It came out in a whisper, she hoped he could register her gratefulness through his helmet. Grogu gave a little cheer, reaching up one clawed hand to tap her cheek.

"Well...don't get too comfortable, I'll need your help." There was the familiar grumble. She dropped her smile quickly.

"You got it. I used to be a babysitter, I'll earn my keep." She gave a sharp nod, determination overtaking her face. But another tap to her cheek had her cracking a smile once again.

"Can you fight?" That question was a bit trickier to answer. While she had a knife and a taser, there was no formal training to back them.

"I... had to take a few self-defense classes, but I didn't have many options in my city." She answered with a shrug. "But I'm willing to learn." She said, determined. No, she wasn't a gifted fighter yet, but if that's how she would be able to survive here, then she was going to become the best damn fighter this galaxy had seen.

"Good." He said, seemingly satisfied, and gave her a nod before abruptly turning back to the ship. "Then I'll train you when we're able to stop, but for now, we keep going." With that he brushed past her, the hatch closing behind him. She watched as he made his way up the ladder, she heard the hiss of the cockpit doors opening. She looked down at the gremlin in her arms, and his big eyes looked back at her. A smile showing off his nubby teeth on his little face. With a shrug, she walked back over to the sleeping compartment.

Now as she looked over her belongings, 2 bags, and a fucking hotel towel. It didn't seem so bad.

She should really put on a bra now.

#din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x oc #din Djarin x f!oc #din djarin x sedona #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x oc #the child #grogu #baby yoda #Peli Motto #best space mom ever Peli Motto #toro calican #fuck toro calican #in this house we hate toro calican #the mandalorian crack #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian crack #mando #star wars #razor crest #original character #space cowboy

[tra-sh]

Mine to Hold (Bucky Barnes ABO)

Bucky comes back from Wakanda and you feel different around him. What's your solution? Avoid him until it goes away. This doesn't go over well with him.

Sometimes, on days like today, you find yourself staring out over your surroundings and wondering: how exactly did you get here? When people you where you work, you would answer “Stark Industries,” and nothing more. When those same people inquired who you work for, they would receive a tight-lipped smile, and perhaps a “Tony Stark,” laced with sarcasm. After all, how could you explain to the public that you worked for the Avengers? It was much easier and less exasperating to give a little white lie. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the hoards of fans who would follow you to work or try to convince you to slip them a photo of a sleeping Thor.

You'd long forgotten how you had ended up in this position, but you couldn’t imagine working anywhere else. You spent most of your time working with Dr. Banner, helping in the lab, and performing first aid on missions. Of course, you'd needed combat training, which the team was more than happy to provide. You had been afraid when you presented as an Omega a few years back, but nothing changed in the tower dynamic. No one treated you as if you were a fragile little doll, ready to break with the slightest touch.

You felt as though you were going against your biology and stepping out of the pack mentality-- and hell if it wasn’t thrilling. However, the doting and motherly nature of the Omega would often rear its head in regards to your team. The longer you worked with everyone, the more protective you felt over them. You would flit about nervously if one of them was on a dangerous mission, and launch a frenzy of panicked questions while checking them for injuries upon their return. It wasn’t too bad with the Alphas (Natasha, Steve, and Thor), but you couldn’t stop yourself from worrying over Clint and Bruce (Betas), and Tony who was the only other Omega in the tower. When Peter Parker began to visit, You'd guarded him almost immediately. You would coo over him and dote on the boy, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. Peter had yet to emerge into a class, but You secretly hoped he would be an Omega like you and Tony. The tower was constantly full of competing Alpha pheromones and it was very overwhelming at times.

Yes, it was times like these where you looked at your current life and smile. You felt so at home here, and the Avengers were nothing more than family to you.

You walk into the living room and laugh softly at the group that had congregated in front of the TV. Tony was showing Thor the movie Wall-E, and the others had most likely filed in one by one and sat down. There were also times when you felt like a glorified babysitter. You step down into the living room, heels clicking against the hardwood floor. In addition to working the med-bay on missions, you often helped Pepper with the more official side of Stark Industries. You couldn't help but feel bad for the overworked Beta and assisted her as often as you could. She'd learned rather quickly that Tony listened to you more than her anyways.

“Tony?” You ask quietly. You rest your hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

Tony’s head lulls back, his eyes still trained on the cartoon robot in front of him. You roll your eyes and snort.

“You have a meeting today at 6:00? New York Times interview, remember?”

Tony made a strangled heave as if signaling to you that he didn’t want to go. “I know you don’t want to, but this is the one we’ve rescheduled three times already,” you point out. Tony groans as his head falls back to hit the couch. “Can’t they find some other superhero to interview? How about Ant-man? He has nothing better to do,” Tony offered. You shake your head and sigh. “I’m absolutely telling Henry you said that, and they specifically want to do an article on Iron man,” you remind him.

Tony was about to protest when F.R.I.D.A.Y interrupts. “Sir? James Barnes is at the entrance.” You can't help the fluttering in your stomach as you resist the urge to look at the elevator. Bucky is back?

Tony shot up off the couch grinning ear to ear. “Oh darn! I forgot our dear little soldier's mission ended this week! Guess we’ll have to cancel that appointment?” He feigned disappointment, shooting you a pleading look. You glare at him but eventually give in with a sigh. “You can explain to Pepper why I’m canceling. I’m not taking the fall for this one,” you mutter and pull out your phone. Tony cheered as he sauntered out of the room, presumably to greet the new guest. You hold your phone up to your ear and crane your neck as subtly as you can manage to try to catch a glimpse of the winter soldier. "Hello?" Pepper's voice carries through the speaker, catching you off guard.

"Oh! Hey, Pepper, sorry if I'm interrupting," you apologize quickly. "Not at all. Is something going on?" Pepper asks. You don't usually call her unless there's bad news coming. You spare a glance over to the elevators. "Yes, I'm afraid Tony is very adamant about not going to the New York Times interview today," you explain. Pepper makes a strangled sort of noise over the phone. Uh oh, she's really pissed. "And why exactly does Tony not want to go this time?" Pepper asks, trying to mask the edge to her tone.

Before you can answer, Tony strolls back into the living room with a very shy brunette in tow. Nat and Steve are the first to welcome him back. You feel your throat clench as you stare at him. To say Bucky was an attractive man would be a deplorable understatement. While his body language was very closed off and introverted, he dripped Alpha pheromones. Stupid Omega brain, you think to yourself. You and Bucky were fairly good friends, you'd say. You two would sit in comfortable silence with each other when he wasn't on missions, reading books or making small talk. You knew Bucky was put off by the social ranks, and you were scared for a while that he would avoid you after you presented an Omega. But your relationship stayed fairly stable much to your delight.

When Bucky's scent filled your nostrils and you felt a soothing calm wash over you. He smells like freshly ground coffee, cinnamon, and something earthy- like sage or myrrh. As embarrassing as it was to admit, his smell made you feel grounded and safe. "Hello?" Pepper wondered. 

"Right! Sorry, Pepper, actually Tony is here now if you'd like to speak with him," you offer, turning back towards him. Tony blanched and began to shake his head vigorously. You grin deviously at him before thrusting the phone in his hand. "You're the worst- Hey Pepper!" Tony quickly switches to his charming personality, making a beeline out of the living room so no one can hear her yell at him.

You laugh and turn around to look back in the living room. Bucky turns to look at you and gives you a gentle smile, making your stomach perform flips. He lumbers over to where you stand, looking down. "Hey, doll," he greets quietly. You can't help the smile that ghosts across your lips as you stare up at him. Were his eyes always that blue? You try to shake the thought from your mind. "Hi, Buck," you reply. "How was your mission?" You ask quickly, trying to maintain the conversation. Was it always this hard for you to talk to him? "Not too bad," he mumbles. "Shuri says hi."

You perk up at this and beam at him. "You saw her? How is she? Is everyone doing okay?" You can't stop the ramblings as they spill from your lips. Bucky laughs and you feel a hot blush creep up your neck. "Too much?" You ask cautiously. He shakes his head and rests a hand on your shoulder. "Just enough," he says. Your stomach clenches as you look at him. His peaceful smile, the way your skin tingles under his grip. You felt strange and it was beginning to poke and prod at your fight or flight response. "I have to go help Doctor Banner," you say quickly before excusing yourself from the room. Your heart was beating fast and your face felt hot. What was happening to you? Bucky watched you leave, a frown tugging at his lips.

"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Bruce asks after a while.

Your head snaps up and you stare at him. "What?" You ask dumbly. He scoffs and places his coffee mug down on a nearby desk. "You reek," he points out. You flush and realize he's right; you're putting out distress pheromones. You sigh and move to sit down on the small lounge chair Tony had brought into the lab. Bruce often worked well into the night, so the lab also functioned as a living space.

"Bucky's back," you say hesitantly.

Bruce sits next to you quietly, urging you to continue. "It feels different," you tell him. "Like, before I could ignore his scent and everything and be close you know? But now it's like my brain wants me to jump his bones," you prattle off, your face growing redder with each confession. Bruce listens patiently, waiting for you to finish. "Well, it sounds to me like you've chosen Barnes as a potential mate," he says. You feel your body go rigid as you stare at your friend in shock.

"What?"

Bruce leans back on the couch, deep in thought. "Sometimes Omegas will seek out and choose a mate out of a group of Alphas," he explains. "It's not uncommon, although today you don't really see Omegas taking the initiative. Your body is trying to claim Bucky."

You shoot up from the couch, stumbling away from Bruce as he speaks. "No, no no-- I can't claim Bucky!" You shrill. Bruce sighs and walks over to you. He puts his hands on your shoulders in an attempt to calm you down. Betas weren't as commanding as Alphas, but his presence still helped to decrease your heart rate. "I'm afraid it's not up to you," Bruce says quietly. "Your brain chose Bucky and it's not going to let go of him unless the Alpha rejects the claim."

Your body shivers at the idea of Bucky rejecting you. Why does it make you so sad? Despair rolls off you in waves, making Bruce flinch. "I'm sorry, kiddo," he adds. "Is there something you can do? Raise the dose of my suppressants?" You ask hopefully. Bruce sighs, dropping his hands. "That's too dangerous. It could make you miss your heat for a prolonged amount of time, which would only make matters worse," he explains. You look at the ground and feel your eyes sting with unwelcome tears.

What were you supposed to do now?

Over the next few days, you fall into a carefully planned routine. You've discovered that if you only see Bucky in short bursts of time, it's easier for you to suppress the Omega instincts. You sit with him and talk to him for a few moments at a time, before finding some excuse to leave. Although you try to convince yourself it's the right thing to do, it gets progressively harder and harder for you to leave.

Everyone in the tower has noticed your behavior; especially Bucky. He saw through your excuses almost immediately, and it made his stomach sink. He couldn't help the ill-placed thought that you no longer wanted to be around him. He was the only one in the tower that you would avoid and he didn't like it. He almost growled when he saw you train with Sam instead of him. Since when were you so close to Sam?

Bucky didn't realize he was sitting on the couch pouting until Steve came over. "Jesus, Buck," Steve said. "It reeks in here." Bucky's lips pulled into a snarl as he glared at Steve. The blonde super soldier raised a brow at his friend's actions. Since when did Bucky act like this? "You're acting like a lovesick pup," Steve points out. Bucky grumbles something under his breath, looking away.

Why was he acting like this? He wasn't even sure. Bucky feels so on edge like the slightest movement will set him off. It's unfamiliar to him, and he hates it. "I know," he sighs after a moment. "I don't know why." Bucky looks up to Steve with an exasperated expression. Steve hums quietly and sits on the chair across from the winter soldier. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the Omega you're so close with, would it?" Bucky's grip on his metal arm tightens.

"She's avoiding me," Bucky mutters. Steve looks away, his eyes scanning the living room for any unwanted ears. He's noticed your new attitude towards Bucky, but Steve wasn't as naive. He knew mating behavior when he saw it, considering how Tony had acted before they claimed one another. "Have you tried asking her?" Steve wonders. Bucky scoffs and his grip gets tighter. "She won't stay long enough for me to try," he growls. The more he thinks about you and Sam the angrier he gets. Steve smells the anger and tries to suppress his Alpha instinct to fight. He clears his throat, looking at Bucky. "Buck, you need to talk to her. You can't just sit here and stink up the place. You're not the only Alpha in the tower," Steve reminds him. He gets up and leaves the living room quickly, trying to clear his head. Bucky sighs, looking down at his feet.

How would he talk to you if you wouldn't stick around long enough to get a word in?

Bucky stands outside your door, hesitating. He's been in here before, sure. But that was before you'd started avoiding him. He debates turning around and leaving. The last thing Bucky wanted was to fuel your hatred toward him. He felt something in his chest tighten at that thought. Did you hate him? He pushed the thought away and steeled his mind, trying to focus through the Alpha thoughts telling him to find you and take what's his. He knocked softly at the door and waited. No response came, making Bucky frown. Were you still in the gym? He chewed his lip nervously. Were you with Sam?

Bucky felt a possessive surge in his brain at the thought of you training with Sam for over two hours. He pushed his way into the room and looked around. His eyes fell on the bed and he froze.

He stared at the nest of fluffed pillows and clothing on your bed, placed in such a way that there was a little divot in the middle for you to curl up in. He felt something snap in his brain as he looked at the nest with white-hot anger.

Whose clothes had you taken? Who were you nesting with?

He stormed closer to the bed until a familiar scent hit him like a wall. He blinked, staring at the mound of pillows before him. Were those... his? He stared at a familiar pair of sweatpants and a balled-up t-shirt. Did you bring his clothes into your nest? Your safe space? This realization made Bucky's chest flutter. His scent was all over the pillows and sheets, and it made his pride soar. You wanted him in your safe place; he was comforting to you. Bucky couldn't help the smug grin that danced across his lips. Well, now he knew you didn't hate him at least. But why would you avoid him? Bucky decided at that moment that he needed to talk with you- whether you wanted to or not.

Bucky paced around the tower, brows knit together in concern. No one had seen you for a few hours. Where had you gone? Did you leave because of him? To make matters worse, you weren't answering your phone.

Bucky glanced around anxiously. He debated running around the city to look for you, but where would he even start? F.R.I.D.A.Y didn't even know your location. Why was no one else panicking? The elevator in the middle of the floor dinged and Bucky immediately looked up. You walked into the tower looking down at your phone in shock. '23 missed calls from Jon Snow'. You felt your face grow hot as you try to ignore the fluttering in your chest. Why did Bucky call you 23 times? He never used his phone unless it was for emergencies. You look up and freeze in your spot. Bucky is standing in front of the elevator, staring at you like a man in the desert would an oasis. You felt your knees grow weak at the desperation in his gaze. "Bucky?"

He's about to question you when an unpleasant smell wafts through his nose. You shrink back at the anger that settles on his features. Was he upset with you?

Bucky glares at your neck, where the unfamiliar smell is coming from. Why did you smell like an Alpha? Had someone scented you? It didn't smell like anyone he knew and it made his blood boil. "Who did it?" Bucky growls after a pause. Your brows knit together in confusion. Who did what? You wrack your brain for what he could be upset about when suddenly it clicks in your mind. "Bucky, it was--" Before you can finish your sentence, Bucky whisks you away to the sleeping quarters. A started noise leaves your lips as he heaves you over one shoulder effortlessly.

Bucky carries you swiftly into his room, dropping you on the bed like a rag doll. "Bucky," you begin again only to be interrupted by the Alpha crawling over you. He pins you down to the bed and brings his head to your neck. You shudder and present your scent gland to him almost immediately. Bucky preens at this and happily marks you. He does it over and over until your own smell is barely a whisper. You know you're practically dripping in Bucky's scent, and something in your brain sighs happily as if to say, 'more!'

He seems satisfied with his work and looks up to your flushed face. You can't help the purr that slips out of you as you look at the proud Alpha above you. Your body feels light and airy as if you're floating. A languid smile drifts across your lips as you stare at Bucky. He sits up, dragging you forward so you rest on his lap. "My 'mega," he mutters under his breath. You preen at the claim, nuzzling your nose against his cheek.

"If you've gotten that out of your system, can I explain now?" Bucky nods begrudgingly, making you chuckle. You lean forward and place a soft kiss on his forehead. "I was with Pepper at a meeting for a new Stark Industries internship program," you begin. "One of the interns was nervous and accidentally scented while I was next to him."

Bucky frowned. If you were with Pepper, why didn't anyone tell him? "Who knew you left?" Bucky asks, rubbing his chin on your shoulder absentmindedly. "I told Tony," you say, pausing to think. "Tony and Steve."

Bucky curses under his breath. This was probably Steve's way of making him talk to her. You look at him, your heart swelling in your chest. Had he been worried? Why did that make you so happy? Bucky pulls away and you whine at the loss of his warmth. "We need to talk," Bucky says finally. You feel a rush of dread pool in your stomach but you manage to nod.

"You've been avoiding me." You look away and bite your lip. You knew he would notice eventually, but it still made you nervous. "I know," you whisper. You feel guilt settle in the pit of your stomach and you sigh. You should have told him sooner but you were just too afraid of what he'd say.

"I saw your nest," Bucky adds.

Your face flushes as you look at him in shock. "You did?" You squeak. Bucky nods, looking you in your eyes. "Why were you avoiding me?" He asks. You look down and sigh softly. "I, um," you fumble over your words as you try to think. "I might have-- unknowingly-- claimed you?" You say awkwardly. Bucky feels his stomach flip at your confession. "Did you not want to?" Bucky whispers. "No! I do!" You say quickly, before realizing your words. Your face turns pink as Bucky raises a brow at you. "I know you weren't exactly thrilled about the classes, and I was afraid you'd reject me," you murmur. "Oh, doll," Bucky sighs, leaning forward. He places a kiss on your cheek and you feel his stubble scratch against your skin. "I was worried that you wouldn't like me as an Alpha," he admits. "I didn't want you to think I was just some knot-head looking for a rut." You're quick to shake your head and look up at him with a reassuring smile. "Bucky, I could never think that about you," you say quietly.

He hums in appreciation and peppers your face with light kisses. Your chest flutters at the affection and you turn your head to nuzzle his face with your own. A pleasant silence falls over the room, and you swear you can hear your heartbeat pounding away. Bucky's arms tighten around your frame, holding you close. You reach up timidly and rest your palms on his chest. A small smile ghosts over your lips when you feel his heartbeat speed up at your touch. Bucky leans down and places a gentle kiss on your shoulder, closing his eyes. "Mine," he whispers.

You feel your chest swell with pride and you can't help the grin that takes over your features. You plant a loving kiss against his hair and wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders.

"Yours."

#bucky barnes #fanfic #bucky fanfic #buckyxreader #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #abo #alpha #beta #omega #im trash #avengers #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #bucky #fluff #buckytrash #reader insert

[kalypsichor]

five’s a crowd [ beatles x reader ] part five

chapter summary: It’s time for some apologies (aPAULogies!). You and Paul have a chat about student debt, Parliament, and showers. John tries to convince everyone that he won’t break the telly (again), Ringo tries to convince everyone that he’s NOT an old man, and you just wish George would drop that goddamn towel. 

warnings: george is almost naked but not naked enough (sigh)

masterlist and parts one | two | three | four

these chapters are just getting longer, huh. also, queen makes a more... definitive appearance.

Paul’s chosen the corner booth. It’s the spot that you all usually cram into, obnoxious and loud and always on the verge of being kicked out. Sitting there all by himself with nothing but a cup of coffee, he looks very small and lonely and you feel a pang of guilt.

He glances up when you sit down next to him. “Back for round two?” Paul says, and despite this he still scoots over to give you more room.

“No.” Sighing, you resist your fight-or-flight instinct. You’ve always hated confrontation. “I just wanted to apologize. I probably overreacted today and I shouldn’t have, um… ”

“Ripped me a new one?”

You laugh. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I’ve just been so stressed about midterms and all that--which isn’t an excuse for being an asshole, I know. It’s been such a long day, with Ringo having to go to the hospital and John almost killing us in your car and George, uh… actually, George hasn’t done anything. But… forgive me?” You try your best puppy eyes, although that’s more of Paul’s forte.

He pretends to think about it, but he’s already got that smile on his face. It’s soft and accentuates the roundness of his cheeks and you can see what John fell in love with.

“Of course I do. I could never stay angry at you for too long.” You let out a sigh that you didn’t know you were holding. “And I’m sorry, as well. I hope some of your papers were salvageable? I’ll pay for your textbooks, really--”

“With the thousands of pounds of student debt you’ve got? No way.” You nudge Paul teasingly. “No, it wasn’t that bad. Besides, if I don’t have most of that stuff memorized by now I’ll be fucked for midterms.”

“It’s the damn Tories, I tell you!” A businessman at the table over shoots him a dirty look and you have to muffle your snort behind your hands. “Anyway, we’re not here to talk politics. How’s George?” At the last bit, Paul leans in, raising his eyebrows conspiratorially.

Just great, still want to snog him senseless. Nothing new. “Why don’t you ask George yourself, you live with him. He’s still pretty pissed about having to take cold showers in the morning.”

“Please, no more. I’ve gotten yelled at about it enough already.” He throws his hands up in mock surrender and you’re reminded uncannily of John. They really are two sides of the same coin… “Morning’s the only time I can shower, anyway. It’s not fun waking up early, you know, but I do have to get the studio time. I’ve got, like, a million art pieces to turn in next week. It’s killing me.”

Though he says this with a rueful grin, you can see there’s bags under his eyes. With all the drama going on, you hadn’t stopped to think about what Paul must be going through. You internally scold yourself not to be so wrapped in your own concerns next time.

“I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah, well. The woes of an art major. But when I asked about George, I wasn’t talking about our little row.”

You ignore that. “Showering every day is bad for your skin, y’know.”

“First off, that’s my phrase. Secondly, you’re changing the subject.”

“You’re the one changing the subject!” Don’t blush don’t blush don’t blush. “Look, can’t you try and compromise with him? Like, taking turns or something. You can have the first shower every other day and ditto for George!” You smack the table excitedly. “Damn, I’m a genius.”

Paul laughs and downs the rest of his coffee. “Alright, alright. I’ll talk to him about it.” Standing, he stretches and tosses the cup into the trash. “You think the flat is safe enough to go back?”

You mirror his actions, donning your fleece jacket. “Probably. I’ll protect you, though, don’t worry.”

“My hero!” He swoons and loops his arm through yours as you step out of the cafe. The rest of the walk back, he doesn’t mention George again and you think he’s forgotten all about it. That is, until you reach the apartment. Paul unlocks the door and gestures for you to go first. When you brush by him, he leans down to your ear and says it so casually you don’t even register the meaning at first.

“I’ll get the truth out of you one of these days, y’know.”

Paul winks and though he doesn’t say exactly what the ‘truth’ is, you think you have a pretty good idea what he’s talking about.

***

The next day, you’re sat at the kitchen table over a bowl of cereal and some salvaged papers, not unlike yesterday morning. John is once again swiping through his phone. Ringo’s there, too, having scrutinized the entire kitchen floor this time before sitting down.

“TikTok is a load of shit,” John announces, throwing his cell down.

“Yet that doesn’t stop you from being on it for hours on end.”

“It’s addicting! All that… hitting the woah and- and grenade stuff.”

“You mean renegade.”

You both shoot a surprised look at Ringo, who pouts. “What? I can be hip too.”

“Okay, the fact that you said ‘hip’ kinda contradicts that.”

Ringo sticks his tongue out at you and you snicker. John clears his throat, steering the conversation back to him. Attention whore.

“Aaaanyway. As I was saying. Our phones are all the government’s rubbish way of brainwashing us. And that’s why I propose… drum roll, please.”

Ringo obliges. You note that he keeps a rather good tempo.

“Game Night Part Two!”

He’s met with silence.

“Uh, let me think about it-- no.”

“What? Why not!”

You tap your finger to your chin. “Did you already forget getting piss-drunk and missing your American Lit quiz the next day? Or spilling Fanta all over my /nice/ white tee? Or doing that?” John’s gaze follows your gesture to the tv in the living room with a great crack down the middle.

“And you’re a sore loser,” Ringo adds. John frowns and throws a cornflake at him.

“George was definitely cheating-”

“Abupbupbup! I’m not done.” You point at his sour expression. “Don’t you remember the noise complaint we got from our neighbor?”

John actually pauses at this. “You mean Paul’s classmate? The one that does graphic design? Not that you’d know it from the way he dresses like a fashion major.”

“His name is Freddie.” Ringo supplies helpfully. Ringo was always good at names.

“Yeah, he actually knocked on our door and everything. That was embarrassing, John.”

A scoff makes its way through John’s pursed lips. “He’s got no right telling us to keep the noise down when his bloody flat houses an entire fucking band. I can hear them going at it until two am sometimes and I don’t call the police on them.”

“They’re quite good.” As if to accentuate his point, Ringo taps a familiar rhythm with his spoon. Must be from one of their latest songs.

John inhales and you can tell that this’ll turn into a scuffle if you don’t steer the conversation away soon.

“Anyway! We don’t want another repeat of last month’s shenanigans. I’d like to be able to keep watching Netflix on a functioning telly, thank you very much. You’re outnumbered, Johnny.”

“Well, actually.”

You both swivel to look at Ringo: you in horror and John with glee. The oldest boy is usually the tie breaker, the swing-state if you want to be American about it. If he throws his weight behind John, it’ll be over.

“I think it would be a good idea. For morale, you know. We’ve been at each other’s throats all of yesterday, and havin’ another Game Night might get everyone on good terms again.” Damn you, Ringo, you think, damn you and your altruism. John, in every sense of the saying, looks exactly like the cat that’s got the canary. He swings to you with the stupidly smug look on his face.

“The match goes to Lennon! Take that,” he gloats, and you fight the urge to strangle him across the table.

“When you fail Professor Ono’s midterms because you’re too hungover to tell Walt Whitman from Langston Hughes, don’t go crawling to me,” you hiss.

John makes to retort but he’s cut short by the sound of footsteps running down the hall. Your brain barely has time to conjure up the weird feeling of deja vu before George skids into the kitchen.

He’s wearing nothing but a towel. Again. But this time, he’s smiling, and the brilliance of it cuts through your sleep-addled brain and curls up somewhere below your rib cage.

“I just took a shower!”

“Good for you, mate,” John snarks, staring ruefully at the phone in the center of the table--did he change his phone case or something? It looks different, somehow. You can see his fingers twitching toward it.

George ignores him. “I just took a warm shower. A real shower with warm water.”

Yes, you can see that from the bit of steam still rising from his shoulders and his hair, which is now curling slightly in the colder temperature. There’s a droplet of water making its way from George’s very naked chest down to his very fit stomach--how he has abs, you have no idea, since the boy inhales food like Kirby--and you look away sharply before your gaze can wander any further.

“A warm water shower,” he repeats.

Ringo nods. “Ah, yes. The poison. The poison for Kuzco. The poison chosen specifically to kill Kuzco.” He pauses, looking you in the eye rather seriously, and you say the next bit together.

“Kuzco’s poison.”

The two of you double over, giggling like schoolgirls. George, however, looks confused.

“What are they on about?”

“Some American film.” John finally gives in and snatches up the phone laying on the table. Something flashes across his face. You know that look, and nothing good ever follows it. “Smile, Georgie.”

There’s the click of a photo being taken.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Nothing.” John pushes his chair from the table and stands up rather abruptly. The look on his face is growing into something… wicked. “Nothing at all. I will be in Paul and I’s room. Doing nothing.” He surveys you all once more with that good-for-nothing grin, cradles the phone to his chest, and then sprints down the hall past an even more confused George. The door closes and locks with a decisive click.

The three of you look at each other questioningly. Ringo grunts something unintelligible and shovels more cornflakes into his mouth. George shrugs and turns to head back to the bathroom.

He’s already halfway down the hall before he freezes.

“Wait a minute. Was that my phone?”

#beatles fanfic #george harrison x reader #ringo starr x reader #paul mccartney x reader #john lennon x reader #the beatles x reader #mclennon #five's a crowd #kalwrites #crack

[nishithunder]

Fall (Kuroo x Reader)

He never meant to fall, and she never intended to catch him. - TW: mental health struggles, cursing - Part 2: It’ll be okay, I’m here for you - Masterlist

 ‘I don’t want to get up yet…’ Y/N thought to herself as she opened her eyes, locking on the ceiling fan as it spun around in front of her. Her alarm had been going off for the past five minutes, yelling angrily at her that she needed to go take a shower and actually, ya know, get the fuck up. But it was so hard...doing everything was getting so hard. A heavy sigh escaped her mouth, something that happened often because it was easy. It didn’t take effort to sigh, it might even be considered a staple of her vocabulary at this point. Toes hit the carpet, the first step to being a ‘functioning member of society’ or whatever the fuck. The alarm continued to blare from her phone, and she shut it off quickly, throwing the phone on to her bed. It was Saturday, why was she up before 2pm on a SATURDAY?

 Loud knocking came from the front door, pulling Y/N from the intrusive thoughts that were beginning to spread through her brain. The knocking continued, pounding against what seemed to be her forehead and she groaned. Again, it was too early for this.

 “I’m coming!” She called, shuffling from her room and towards the front door, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and a yawn shoving its way out of her mouth. The knocking stopped, whoever was on the other side seeming content with her voice calling out to them. She opened the door, her eyes meeting with Kuroo on the other side who was smiling at her widely.

 “Did you forget that today was the first day of training camp or did you think I was just going to go without you after you reminded me to wait for you last night?” He asked, a smirk on his lips. Her eyes widened and she pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead, groaning.

 “I forgot to be honest with you. Come in, I need to take a shower and get dressed and then we can leave.” Y/N told him, stepping to the side to let him into the house. Now it was his turn to be shocked. She was inviting him into her house now? After only having one actual conversation with her? Either way, Kuroo walked inside, slipping his shoes off at the door and watching her scurry off in the other direction, closing the door behind himself.

 The house was what he expected it to be. Clean, orderly, but eerily dark inside. Not that SHE was eerily dark inside, but she didn’t exactly seem like the type to like that much light. It was quiet other than the sound of the shower being turned on, and he sat on the couch, assuming that her father was away on business again and she was here alone. He pulled his phone out again, sending a quick text to Kenma to let him know that they would be there as soon as possible, that Y/N had just woken up and was taking a shower before they left. He set his phone down on his lap, looking around the living room. There wasn’t much in there as far as decor and pictures went, nothing that really stood out at least, until his eyes locked on a single photo that was sitting next to the television in front of him. In the photo there were two adults and a small child, assumingly it was her family. The man looked to be in his mid 30’s, not very old, whereas the woman did look younger, like she may have been 5-6 years younger than the man was. The small girl, Y/N, looked like she was only 7 at the time of the photo, and he realized she never did tell him how long her mother had been gone. Since she just started going to Nekoma recently, it was safe to say that since they moved due to her mother's death and her father's new job, that her passing was also just as recent.

 “Are you okay?” Y/N’s voice rang out through the room, catching Kuroo off guard and causing him to jump, eyes shooting over to her. He nodded quickly, standing up and rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed that she had caught him mid zone out. Her hair was wet, hanging around her face as she rubbed a towel over it. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a plain red t-shirt, nothing special, but for some reason it took his breath away.

 “Yeah, everythings fine, are you ready to go?” He asked her, walking towards the door to get his shoes. She nodded, following him and grabbing a set of keys off the hook and an overnight bag near the door. Kuroo quickly realized that when he had shown up, he had set his own bag near the door outside, and it was still just sitting out there on the concrete.

 “Be careful, this complex isn’t the best.” Y/N informed him, closing the door as they walked out and locking it behind them. Kuroo’s ears heated up slightly and he chuckled, giving her a small smile.

 “I wasn’t expecting you to invite me in.” He admitted, reaching down and grabbing his jacket off his bag and handing it to her.

 “Here, just in case you get cold or something,” He told her, trying to sound as smooth as possible. Y/N looked at the jacket that was being held to her for a moment, before grabbing it and setting her bag down, slipping it over her arms and up her shoulders. It was much too big on her, his volleyball jacket obviously hanging off her loosely, but it was definitely comfortable. She grabbed her bag again, not noticing that Kuroo was now fully blushing at the sight of her in the jacket that he wore almost every day since he received it. 

 “Come on, we’re already late thanks to me.” Y/N said to him, shoving her keys into the pocket of the jacket and beginning to walk down the sidewalk, Kuroo catching up to her quickly. 

~Time skip to at training camp~

 “Could you taken any longer?” Yaku asked as Kuroo opened the doors to the practice gym, letting Y/N walk in ahead of him. Kuroo looked over at him, glaring a bit in return, Yaku now shrinking down slightly and turning back towards Lev who he had been talking to previously. Y/N looked around the gym, more than one team occupying the space around them, her chest tightening with every new face she saw. Kuroo could tell she was getting uncomfortable and he placed a hand on the small of her back, smiling down at her. 

 “It’ll be okay, I’m here for you. Nobody will hurt you while I’m around. I won’t let anything happen.” He assured her, feeling as she slowly relaxed against his hand and gave him a small nod. Kenma walked over to the two, looking down at his phone as he walked, only looking up once he was directly in front of them.

 “Hinata just texted me that they were pulling up, they should be here in a few minutes so that we can start practicing.” Kenma informed them, Y/N’s face instantly brightening at the sound of Hinata’s name. This was why she was ready to come, this was the reason she was EXCITED to be here. She would finally get to see her friends again after months of not seeing them and barely hearing anything from. That was all she wanted, she missed her friends more than anything. 

 “Until then, we can do some sets just to get warmed up. I need it.” Kuroo told Kenma, beginning to stretch. He looked over at Y/N, then pointed over to some chairs so that she could sit down. Though he didn’t say a word to her, Y/N knew what he meant, and nodded to him again, smiling a little before walking over to the chairs and sitting down, pulling Kuroo’s jacket around her a little tighter. She liked it, more than she thought she would. It made her feel protected, since it was so much bigger than she was, and she felt like she could hide within it. It also smelled strongly like Kuroo, cologne and maple, somthing that she didn’t exactly expect but comforted her in a way. 

 Y/N felt like Kuroo was a magnet, or had some type of magnetic force, because she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of him. His movements were so fluid, yet precise every time a volleyball came his way. It was impressive, and almost mesmerizing to watch. She still wasn’t sure what his motive was, being so nice to her and seemingly always finding his way to her. What exactly did he want? Because Y/N was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to give whatever it was to him. She couldn’t help but feel like anyone trying to befriend her had some sort of ulterior motive, though that wasn’t the case with Kuroo. He genuinely just cared about her, but she wasn’t aware of how much or why.

 “THE SHOW HAS ARRIVED!” A voice boomed through the gym, Y/N’s head instantly snapping to the doorway to the owner of the loud voice. Tanaka stood, arms outreached, having just barged his way into the gym like he OWNED that bitch, and Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Each one of the members of Kurosuno’s team walked into the gym after Tanaka’s grand entrance, all seemingly as hyped up as he was despite the long bus ride they had just taken in order to get there. They hadn’t noticed her yet, and she didn’t know whether or not she should run over to them and tackle them with hugs, or stay exactly where she was at. What if they didn’t want to see her? They hadn’t made any sort of effort to talk to her, though she had texted them numerous times to stay in contact. Y/N was scared of the abandonment, and the rejection that might come from her going over to them as if she had never left in the first place. Her eyes scanned over each of them. Daichi and Suga stood behind everyone, pointing towards a different side of the court. Hinata and Kageyama were already starting with the arguments, causing Y/N to giggle, remembering all the fights and arguments between the two when she was still with them, and how much she missed them. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima were setting down their things, talking amongst each other as usual. And then there was Tanaka and Nishinoya, always in their own world, but walking towards her. No. They weren’t walking, they were running towards her.

 “Y/NNNNNN!!” They screamed in unison, knocking the chairs down around her as they both tackled her in a hug. Her breath was once again caught in her throat, as if she suddenly forgot how to breathe. “WE MISSED YOU!” They continued, tears now streaming down Y/N’s face as she wrapped her arms around the two of them. She missed them, GOD, she missed them so much. Y/N pushed her face into Noya’s shoulder, taking in the all too familiar scent of his cologne from all the times he had been the one to console her when she was having one of her panic attacks. She turned, now pushing herself into Tanaka’s shoulder, tears continuing to stream down her face as she held them tighter.

 “You two don’t understand how much I missed you. I thought you both hated me.” Y/N whispered, trying to keep herself from ugly crying in front of the two boys. Noya looked at her, concern covering his face as he pushed her hair back behind her ear.

 “Why would you ever think that, Y/N? I’m sorry I didn’t always text you back, we’ve been cramming school work so that we could come here.” Noya explained, rubbing her back gently. Tanaka nodded, pointing his thumb back at the others.

 “Yeah, even Hinata and Kageyama studied harder for this. We were all really trying to get the extra practice in, we had been letting our grades slip for a while,” Tanaka told her sheepishly, expecting the scolding look that she normally would have given him before realizing that he was standing in front of Y/N, but how? “Wait, why are you here?” he asked in confusion, then his eyes landed on the jacket that she had wrapped around herself.

 “I’m Nekoma’s team manager now. Yaku convinced me.” Y/N told him, rubbing the back of her neck and giving him a shy smile. Tanaka grinned, ruffling her hair playfully.

 “We made you love the sport that much, huh, Lil Bit?” He asked her, the old nickname sounding like music to her ears coming from his mouth. She nodded her head, shoulder checking him gently in a teasing way. Kuroo watched the three, a smile on his face as he saw how happy Y/N looked, something they hadn’t seen since she started coming to Nekoma. Something about the moment seemed bitter sweet, despite the fact that this might have been what Y/N needed in order to finally come out of her shell. He just wished he could have been the one to do that. As Kurosuno’s team noticed what the commotion was all about, they began to walk over, excited faces as well.

 “Isn’t that Kuroo’s jacket?” Tsukki questioned as they approached, standing behind Y/N and straightening out the writing across her back so that he could read it better. A pale blush spread over her cheeks as he looked, realizing that if Tanaka and Noya didn’t know she was her captain, neither did they, which meant they didn’t realize that she also knew Kuroo.

 “Yeah, he walked with me to the camp this morning and didn’t want me getting cold. He lives down the street from me, he walks me to school every morning too, and home from practice after so that I’m not walking alone in the dark. He’s really nice to me.” She explained, seeming to ramble without realizing it. Noya smiled, placing a hand on top of her head.

 “I’m glad someone is taking care of you, at least.” He said, quieter than normal, as if he only wanted her to hear it. She was always closest with Noya, the two of them being polar opposites so it was a perfect match. Tanaka too, but he was more of a big brother to her, and would always baby her. “I know you’re not our manager anymore, but I hope you’ll still cheer for us.” He added, his eyes sparkling when they met with hers. A large smile was now on Y/N’s face as she nodded eagerly.

 “I’ll always cheer for you, no matter who you’re playing against or what you’re doing. You guys will always be my team.” She confirmed, barely out of earshot now from Kuroo who was walking towards the group to say hello. He stopped when he heard her words, his heart clenching tightly in his chest. That stung.

-

Tag list~ @yafriendlyfangirl @sokka-simp-420 @neodnyl

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurō #nishithunder masterlist

[meridia002-lorddiavolosconcubine]

Dizzump in the Devildom

WARNING: FECES/DEFECATION, NSFW (NO SEX, BUT UTTERLY DISGUSTING), MERIDIA HAS AN ACCIDENT

Let this be the first entry in the Devildom Diary.

My first day in the Devildom was a total ASS DISASTER. Literally. Imagine finding yourself in an unfamiliar world that lacked amenities as basic as toilets. I was horrified and embarrassed when it came time to take my first dizzump in the Devildom. On that first evening I grabbed my demon boyfriend, Mammon, and pinned him against a dark corner to ask him where the toilet was.

“A toy what?” Mammon asked as he characteristically threw up his hands in confusion.

I dumbfoundedly watched him shake his head at me as waves of impeccable white hair grazed his forehead. Why humiliate myself by explaining the concept of human defecation to this shiny, smooth entity? I waved off my question as an exhaustion-induced brain fart and  decided that it was best for me to search for a place to poop that night.

Why doesn't Hell have toilets? I searched the Internet for “demon boy anatomy,” and what I discovered didn’t comfort me. According to AkuWikia, demons lack functional buttholes. Their pink starfishes are only for anal sex and were never an original part of their evolution. The wiki article said the first king of the Devildom spent centuries watching humans procreate and fuck. He saw anal sex as unique and wanted demons to be able to do it. From that day onward, the demon king cast a spell on all his subjects that drilled perfect puckered holes in their anuses. The article made no mention of human defecation.

So there I was, my struggles to contain the doo doo within my donut hole failing me. Touching cloth is what humans call it when you’re desperately trying to keep the turtle’s head in its shell. Prairie dogging. You get it. I bemoaned my choice to wear tight-ass pants. I clenched my cheeks, my hands pushing them together to stall Mr. Hanky for as long as I could. I waddled sideways in the hallway like I had something up my ass. After all, I did.. it was threatening to break free. Why did I have to eat that burrito baby last night? Shit!

Stiffly shuffling against the wall, I opened the bathroom door. No toilets, but a pretty big bathtub. big enough to squat and drop deuce in the drain.

No! Shaking that thought from my mind, I continued searching every closet and room I had access to. Buckets? No. Where would I dump it? Asmo’s underwear drawer? Maybe. Ugh. Behind the bookshelves in the living room? Possibly. Let’s keep that as the number two choice.

I paused mid step in the hallway as my rectum clenched up in painful spasms. You know when the the shit starts coming down the pipe a bit more and holding it in causes painful cramps? That’s a sign you needed to find a toilet yesterday.

Time was running out as I was growing a monkey tail in my underwear. I needed to paint the Oval Office soon. Do I go in the bathtub and try to wash it down the drain? It seemed like the most private option. At this point, I could go outside for all the little D’s to see. What if Caveman Solo spied me dropping anchor in the grass like a dog? He’d probably like that.

I shivered at the thought of that shady fuckboi watching me shooting torpedoes on the side of the House of Lamentation. Why? Why didn’t they prepare this one little detail? Would it hurt these perfect, poopless men to install toilets for the one disgusting poop human?

My ass cheeks squeezed to the maximum when the final cramp hit me with a rumbling so loud it could’ve been Beelzebeef’s stomach. My cheeks gave out, and I went right in the seat of my pants. Staying in the bathroom, I locked the golden doorknob behind me. I dropped my pants, sticky brown separating from the cotton of my dollar store underwear. I glared at the brown curl in the seat of my panties with disgust. "I hate you," I whispered with all my vitriol.

I threw my clothing into a sagging, sad pile in the corner. I stood buck naked with my legs obscenely wide over the drain, squatting as much as my shortened Achilles’ tendons allowed. I inhaled and exhaled slowly to relax my sphincter. Warm ropes slid through my rectum like a monorail. I waited until I heard the soft plop in the drain. Sighing, I was about to stand up when another bout of the shits hit me, and this time it wasn’t as neat as the turd I just birthed. Before I could gather myself and clean my mess, a second violent episode of the shits gripped me. At this point, I was already half standing and no longer perfectly aiming over the drain. A typhoon of liquid ass viciously blasted the white tiles.

I panicked, and the more anxious I got, the worse the diarrhea became. I decided to accept the situation and let it all out.

“It will all be over with soon,” I said out loud. “And then I can clean it.”

With that being said, I pushed like a mother in labor. Pressure built inside my belly and travelled down to my colon until it exited my body in mere seconds. I became lost in the moment. I don’t know how much time passed, but it felt like the best time of life. Being so far gone in my poophoria, a moan escaped my mouth. Oh, the relief I felt in my guts! For hours I had held it inside me until the feces seemed to be sentient. It came out on its own.

My sweet moment was disrupted by a knocking at the door.

“Oi! Meridia!” Knock! Knock! “What’s going on in there? The smell is awful, and I gotta take a piss!”

Oh, fuck! Mammon’s timing couldn’t have been worse! Fuckfuckfuckfuck. I had to squeeze my cheeks together to restrain in the rest of the shitstorm while I looked around for paper towels. What was I supposed to say?

“Uh ... J-just a minute! Just taking an extra long bath!” My voice faltered.

“I gotta pee, so I’m comin’ in,” he answered. “It shouldn’t interrupt your bath!”

Goddammit!

Before I could stop him, Mammon turned the doorknob. The gold knob turned slowly, the door opened the slowest I’ve ever seen a door open. It creaked and squeaked ever so loudly, and I feared it would attract more attention. My stomach dropped again resulting in a tiny spurt of brown goo. White hair and brown skin poked through the door. First his head came through the crack like a little prairie dog. Then the crack opened wider as a RAD uniform appeared. The hands that were on the demon’s hips flew up to his nose as he gagged.

“Ack! What is that sme—” My boyfriend stopped talking as he stared at the Pollock-esque brown masterpiece I made all over the tiles.

“Meridia! What’s that comin’ outta your ass?!” He screamed.

My legs quaked with each spasm of shit I held back. It was useless. My cheeks jiggled with one final effort as a downpour of liquid brown splattered the tiles below me. Mammon was panicking, and I needed to explain this before he called his brothers for an emergency.

“Please calm down!” I begged. “I’m pooping!” My arms waved around agitatedly as I attempted to explain defecation to his confused face. “It’s a human thing. Please, just help me clean this fucking mess!”

Mammon seemed even more confused and distressed. His arms flailed all over the place in confusion. 

“What does this even mean?” His voice cracked out. “Does your shit need to ... go back inside ya ass?!” 

What? Oh, god no. I hope he doesn’t try that!

“No! Just, please don’t call attention to this!” I hissed. “I need you to bring me towels so I can clean this mess up.”

I hoped I could get through to him, because he gazed with a half-mile stare at my brown splattered masterpiece on the walls. 

“Mammon!” I snapped him out of his shock. “Get. Me. Towels!” 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, thing.” 

Poor little guy. He sounded ill. It wasn’t long before the white-haired tsundere came back with a bunch of white towels. I palmed my face.

“White towels? Human excrement will stain those so much!” I said.

He shrugged. “I guess we’re gonna have brown towels at the end of the night.”

Taking one from the stack to wrap around my body, I was able to set about frantically mopping my midnight regret off the walls and floor. Maybe the most difficult part was scooping my mess out of the bathtub drain. I turned to Mammon and was immediately floored by the sight of the demon with his jacket off, sleeves rolled up, and shirt unbuttoned. Suddenly, for the first time in my life, I think I was freakishly turned on by the smell of shit. His body odor combined with the scent of fecal lasagna twisted something primal inside of my core. I looked down at my hand, remember that I was squeezing an ice cream scoop sized clump of doodoo in my hand. I shook my head to snap out of my arousal before my thoughts went somewhere taboo. 

I hurled the crap clog inside a garbage bag, which reminded me of the lack of a toilet. 

“So, we need to talk to Lucifer rather discreetly about installing a toilet in the house,” I reminded Mammon. “On second thought, let’s just see if Diavolo can put toilets everywhere.”

Mammon shook his head. “Why didn’t ya just say something earlier, human?” he said. “When you asked me about the toilet earlier, ya coulda just explained it to me. I think I heard something about Diavolo having putting those in RAD just for the human students.” 

I froze. “You ... What?!”

He gulped. “Uhh, yeah. How’d ya think Solomon shits?” 

My body began to shake in anger. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

He stopped when my emotions started to show. “Hey, now. I’m sorry. It just slipped our minds.” 

My jaw tensed as vengeful ideas played through my shit-addled brain. Leaning over the tub, I eyed the drain deviously as a new set of spasms wrapped my bowels in their grasp. 

“Mammon,” I eyed him sideways. “We’ve cleaned enough in here, and I need to bathe.” 

He stopped scrubbing to wipe sweat off his sexy forehead. “If ya say so. Call me if ya need me human.” 

Before he left, we made out like teenagers, my soiled hand leaving smudges in his clean, white hair.

When I was finally alone, I dropped my fluffy white, brown smudged towel on the clean tiles. Stepping inside the shower, I marveled at the freshly cleaned tub. Sad I would have to soil it again. 

Once more positioning my legs vulgarly wide over the drain, I unleashed everything. No holding back.

#obeyme #mc has an accident #tw feces #obey me mammon #bathroom #cursed fic

[m00nslippers]

Everyone Crushing on Jason 2

Today is my birthday, and I’ve got a present for you all! It’s chapter 2 of the ECoJ AU! Later tonight I’m going to post the first on AO3 under the title Jay-Crazy, then a few days later I will add this chapter tow it and then all future chapters will be simulposted. So I hope you all enjoy this slice of complete crack.

If you missed Chapter 1, it’s here.

- - -

“Holy shit, who is that?” Hal demanded of Barry, jabbing his friend with his elbow to get the hero's attention.

They were in the Watchtower Satellite after routing a poorly orchestrated alien invasion attempt. Even compared to the usual morons that thought they could conquer Earth despite it's super-powered protectors, it had been especially inept and the whole endeavor had barely made it to the ground. Martian Manhunter, Cyborg and the Watchtower scanners had detected the alien vessels quickly and, once hostility was ascertained, the satellite and vacuum-hardy heroes like the Kryptonians and Lanterns  lit their asses up. A small force managed to slip by their attacks and make it to the Earth, but according to MM, a hastily dispatched contingent of available JLA members mopped them up easily enough. Hal hadn't heard any of the reports, was actively avoiding them to be honest, but everyone seemed to have come out of the incident alright except the bad guys, so he'd say everyone in participation had earned a beer, especially himself for being a front-line badass. Too bad he was stuck on the Watchtower until the all-clear went through.

He and Barry had just managed to dodge an after-action report with ugh Batman and were loitering in the infirmary—partly because Barry suggested they should be around in case anyone needed more hands with the injured, but mostly because Hal had found out the Bat was allergic to medical care—when Hal's eyes had zoned-in like a laser on the most exquisite pair of tits he'd ever seen on a man.

Jesus that chest was toned! Hal didn't know what kind of exorcize gave a guy pecs developed enough to spill out of your hand, but this guy was doing them and clearly never skipped. Hal was damn near hypnotized as he watched the man strip out of thigh holsters and shrug out of black reinforced-Kevlar body armor that zipped up from the back, revealing a body like a battle axe, hard, cut and stacked, shoulders broad and muscular. The man's legs were insane, his thighs were bigger than Hal's head! He looked like he could dead-lift Hal with one hand and Hal was suddenly wishing the guy would try.

Hal had pretty much been sold before he managed to take in the full package, but lighting on the guy's face Hal realized he was young, in his early to mid twenties, and almost painfully good-looking, even with the domino mask obscuring his eyes. His hair was dark and had a hint of a wave, longer on the top of his head and short at the sides, and at his temple was an interesting streak of white. His face was long and he had a wide, dynamic mouth that was on the verge of a snarl as he argued something with—oh, hey, Nightwing! Damn, he'd been so distracted with the view that he somehow missed that Nightwing, AKA the best ass in the entire vigilante community, was trying to stitch up a nasty three-inch gash in the mystery man's side that should have curbed Hal's arousal but somehow just made him hotter. Yeah, Hal liked the battle-worn and sweaty look all of a sudden.  

Barry squinted where Hal was staring (he assumes, Hal refused to look away from those drool-worthy abs, squeezable pecs and powerful arms and back muscles that had him drooling a puddle on the infirmary floor). Luckily his friend had an answer for him because Hal needed a name to put to that amazing piece of real estate ripe for the tapping that had presented itself before him.

Barry's voice was incredulous as he answered, “That's Red Hood. You know, the guy we all voted into the JLA two nights ago?”

Eh, Hal never paid attention at those things. “Remind me, will you?”

“Gotham Vigilante. Like Nightwing, he used to be Robin. He was a bit of a villain until a few years ago, but he's cleaned up his act and Batman vouched for him—which is all information you should know if you listened at the meetings,” Barry complained. “Don't tell me you voted for someone without knowing anything about them again, Hal...”

Hal tore his gaze away from the smoking hot Red Hood so he could roll his eyes at Barry. “Does it really matter? You listen to the boring stuff and look into all these people and I just vote what you vote.”

Barry sighed, wearily shaking his head. “Hal, that's not--”

Hal raised his fingers to Barry's lips and cut his friend off mid-sentence. “Shh—Daddy's on the prowl,” he whispered and bobbed his eyebrows suggestively.

The speedster's wince was clearly communicated despite his mask as he shoved Hal's hand away from his mouth. “Please don't let me ever hear you refer to yourself as 'Daddy' again, Hal. I'm begging you.”

Hal smirked and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Begging me, huh? Don't let Iris hear about this, she'll be jealous.”

“Why are we friends again? I can't say anything to you,” Barry mused, covering his face in embarrassment, ready to phase through the floor to disappear from the conversation.

“Don't know, but here is where I leave you, pal.” Hal gave a lazy two-fingered salute and grinned. “I've got a pair of pants to get into or die trying—and the pants don't belong to me!”

“I don't even know what to say...” he heard Barry profess as Hal smoothed his hair and strode confidently across the infirmary floor to where his future—Boyfriend? Sex friend? Morning regret? He'd take what he could get, honestly—had an arm resting on Nightwing's back while the other vigilante was underneath it, bent over his side, putting stitches into the long red gash across the man's ribs. And honestly it spoke to the power, or maybe just the novelty, of his new obsession that he wasn't drifting behind Nightwing to get a view of his fantastic booty, but was marching straight up to Red Hood, ignoring Nightwing almost entirely.

But no sooner had he stepped up to the plate then Guy Goddamn Gardner stepped out in front of him with his dumb red hair and his cocksure strut, cutting off his path.

“Hey, is that your jacket, there? Looks nice,” his rival Lantern said, nodding to a brown leather jacket laying on the medical cot next to Red Hood.

Guy's head blocked his view as he raised a brow in disbelief. 'Hey, is that your jacket, there'? 'Looks nice'? What kind of opening line was that? The hell was Guy playing at?

The Red Hood looked up from where he'd been scowling at the floor—damn, his scowl was mean, it was freaking hot—to eye Guy with the confused incredulity such a stupid ice-breaker deserved.

“Uh, thanks?” Hood said, sounding confused as to why anyone was talking to him, which was vaguely adorable to Hal for some reason. “'s kinda breezy, though. Gotta few bullets holes I haven't patched up yet.”

Hal thought he was going to melt into the floor. Shit, even Red Hood's voice was hot. On the deeper end of baritone with a street-sounding drawl Hal had only ever heard in movies because most people didn't actually have accents that strong.

Gotham vigilante, huh? He sure sounded like it. Hal usually had a 'no Bats' policy when it came to pretty much everything in his life he could manage, but this guy seemed different, more chill, more down to Earth than the usual Bat—or maybe Hal was just making excuses to justify sucking face with the guy. Whatever, he wasn't about to question it. The dick wants what the dick wants.

“Yeah, I used to do the whole leather jacket biker-schtick,” Guy said, his usual cockiness leaking into his tone as he flipped up the collar to his vest as if he actually thought he looked cool emulating a 60s greaser. He pointed a thumb at himself with pride as he said, “I incorporated it into my Lantern uniform and everything. It's a one of a kind style in the corps.” Hal could hear the attempt at a smolder in Guy's voice as it dropped half an octave and he praised, “I bet it doesn't look as good on me as it does on you, though.”

Red Hood's expression slanted into bafflement, mind clearly whirring as he processed the words spoken to him, turning them over every which way before hitting on the realization that he'd just been hit on. All at once Red Hood's cheeks blushed pink and he reached a hand up to tug through his hair anxiously, almost as if he wasn't used to people pulling out corny one-liners trying to get his attention and he had no idea what to do about it. It was so damn cute that Hal's brain momentarily ceased to function. Hal was stunned, amazed, incredibly turned on. What the hell, how does someone who looked like they could punch a hole in a car door, no powers necessary, and shoot you without remorse, look that sweet and innocent? It would be wrong if it wasn't so sexy.

Crap, he couldn’t let this go on. Hal had to get in there and break this up or he was going to be shown up by freaking Guy Gardner of all people, and that was something he simply couldn’t allow, especially when someone this good-looking was on the line.

“Okay, move over Horatio, the real Green Lantern has arrived,” Hal said, reaching out to physically maneuvered Guy out of his way before the other Lantern realized what was happening. Taking advantage of the opening, Hal swooped in to his place in front of the delectable Red Hood, whose eyes flicked from Guy to Hal and back quickly, with the almost creepy assessing intelligence that Gotham vigilante's were known for.

Hal offered a hand and his most dazzling smile. “Hi, Red Hood? I'm Hal Jordan, AKA Green Lantern, AKA Earth's first and best Green Lantern, AKA one of the JLA's founding members. I hear you just got accepted into the league, congrats! I bet you'll be a worthy addiction—I mean, addition, around here. Maybe after Wings finishes fixing you up I could show you around? I know all the best spots to avoid Batman.”

The Red Hood didn't take his hand but his mouth stretched into a lop-sided grin, a thing of brightness with a hint of mischief that had Hal going weak in the knees and he didn't know what he said to get said smile but damn was he going to enjoy it. Red Hood snorted in amusement. “'All the best spots to avoid Batman', huh? Maybe I'll take you up on tha—ow!”

Red Hood scowled down at Nightwing who was glaring at the Red Hood's wound as he tied off his stitches. “Oops,” he deadpanned, sliding his disapproving gaze Hal's way. Hal narrowed his eyes back, not sure when the guy had put on that party-pooper bat-look Hal hated, but now he suddenly couldn’t forget the other vigilante had worn the cowl of his greatest rival, world-class busybody Bruce Wayne. He'd always liked Nightwing better in the role of the big bat—he was more laid back, he cracked jokes even if they were mostly stupid puns—but he might have to reassess that opinion. Apparently Nightwing had picked up a thing or two from his mentor. Specifically, how to make Hal feel like scum for breathing.

Hal opened his mouth to ask Nightwing why he was here and what his relationship even was with Red Hood, but before he could confront his potential cockblock, Guy grabbed Hal by the arm and dragged him away to the corner of the room with a mumbled, “Excuse us, guys...” as Hal complained, “Hey, easy on the goods there, Guy!”

As soon as they were out of ear-shot, Guy rounded on Hal with fury in his face. His usually pale complexion was flushed red with anger and embarrassment, twin to his fiery red hair.

Guy shoved Hal hard enough to rock him back on his heels, whisper-shouting, “What the hell, Jordan! Why you gotta butt into my business?”

Hal scoffed. “Your business? No no no, I let you have first crack, but now it's my turn.”

Guy snorted and got in his face, as if he actually thought he could back down the GL Corps original 'man without fear' with his inadequate self. Please, Guy wasn't even close to his level. “You didn't let me do anything, Jordan. I saw him first and you just shoved your way in, like an asshole!”

Hal threw up his hands, unrepentant. “Hey, the man has a right to make his own choices, and clearly the better choice is yours truly. I'm just presenting him the option of my amazing self.”

Guy looked ready to strangle him with his bare hands, which was pretty typical of the man. “Why do you always have to be number one, huh Jordan?” he demanded and an edge of pleading entered his voice that put a momentary damper on Hal's sense of entitlement. “I might have found my soulmate here, why can't you just let me have this?”

Hal frowned, suddenly uncertain. Did Guy know Red Hood previously and have some relationship with him Hal didn't know? Was there some connection between the two that Hal was selfishly getting in the middle of?

“Soulmate?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding his fellow Lantern with skeptical but open ears. “You think Red Hood is the one, huh? What makes you think that?”

Guy's face turned dreamy-eyed and dopey as he explained, “I saw him right-hook an alien in the jaw, take the goon's own gun and blast his face off in a quarter of a second, then back-flip off a car and detonate an explosion that wiped out a landing craft. I fell in love instantly Hal, this is the real deal, man!”

Oh, so he didn't have a connection, Guy was just being typical Guy.

Hal rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “He's not your soul-mate, you just saw him do something badass and now your smitten!”

“Well you just saw him take off his shirt and now your smitten,” Guy countered with a snarl, “At least my reason isn't superficial!”

Hey, physical attraction was usually the first step to a relationship, or so he'd heard somewhere. It was human nature to see a hot body and go after it. “There's nothing wrong with—”

“Hey!” Hal heard as someone snapped their fingers in front of his nose and he looked over to see another fellow Lantern, Kyle Rayner, gracing both of his predecessors with something like irritated disbelief. “Are you two seriously fighting over Jason Todd of all people?”

“So his name is 'Jason Todd'?” Guy perked up, voice soft, “I love it. It just perfectly captures his, like, his everything, and—”

Hal shook his head. “Words are not your strong suit Guy, just stop.” Please.

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his Green Lantern's mask, wearing a pained look as he said, “Okay, let's just put on hold the absurdity that is anyone thinking that dickhead Todd is attractive enough to pursue despite his garbage fire of a personality--”

“Woah, that's a bit harsh Rayner,” Hal said with a raised eyebrow, taken aback by the fierceness of Kyle's insult. What the heck? The kid was usually so nice. What did he have against the other man, how did he even know him?

“—aside from all the obvious reasons Todd is a bad idea,” Kyle went on, ignoring him. “If you're really interested, then you guys have way bigger problems than each other.”

Guy crossed his arms and tilted his head in question. “The heck are you talking about?”

Kyle jerked a thumb behind him and Hal looked over his shoulder to find the object of his and Guy's affections, Red Hood, one Jason Todd, was crowded by no less than Supergirl, Superboy, Booster Gold, Arsenal and Starfire, as Nightwing and Orphan hovered nearby like stodgy nannies. Kara had actually latched onto one of Red Hood's arms like a leach and was pressing her breasts against the man's biceps as she covertly ran her eyes all over him, no doubt putting her Kryptonian x-ray vision to good use (so unfair). Superboy—the older one, Kent's kinda-clone, not his kid—was trying to shove Kara out of the way and insert himself into the conversation, but the girl was clinging fast and refused to let go. Booster Gold was yacking and gesticulating, trying to draw attention to himself, but Red Hood seemed to be ignoring him in favor of chatting with Green Arrow's old partner and the Tamaranean princess who were looking way too friendly, with Starfire's hand on his shoulder and Arsenal poking at his ribs, as Red Hood swatted back.

“What the hell is this?” Hal demanded, the unfairness of it all pissing him off. “We were there first, come on!”

“I was there first,” Guy corrected and clicked his tongue angrily. “Man, this is freaking bullshit. This is all your fault, Jordan!”

Hal huffed, indignant. “My fault? You're the one who dragged us away! If you hadn't we—”

“Seriously guys, don't fight over the Red Hood. He's the worst,” Kyle spat with an uncharacteristic vehemence. “He thinks with his gun instead of his head and he's a broody goth-nerd lone-wolf-wannabe who he doesn't know when to quit!”

Guy's face screwed up in confusion. “What's your angle here, Kyle? You're just making him sound hotter.”

Kyle put a hand on Guy's shoulder, inviting him to listen closely as he explained, “Look, he's not hot—I mean, yeah he is, he's like crazy hot—but he's not, trust me.”

Guy looked like his brain was struggling to keep up with Kyle's non-logic. Actually, Hal's was too. “You are making no sense,” Hal informed the kid.

Kyle didn't look especially bothered. “Just don't fight, okay? Seriously, I'll sic John on you.”

Oh, not John Stewart-stick-in-the-mud! He'd shut down their whole operation like the by-the-book buzzkill he was! Damn, when did Rayner get so bitter? The kid was still in his twenties but he was already old and jaded and wise to he and Guy's ways.

“Woah, calm down,” Hal said evenly, as if soothing a potential jumper away from the edge. “We don't need to get John involved. We're cool, right Guy?”

Guy was a bit closer to John than Hal was, so he wasn't sure if the other Lantern would back his play on keeping the third Lantern out of it, but Guy also seemed to realize they needed to think smart here.

“Yeah, we can act civil about this. Probably,” Guy said, fluttering his lashes innocently.

Okay, 'smart' was relative.

Kyle rolled his eyes, not in the least sorry that he was trying to ruin their day with a lecture from John about GL solidarity and keeping your mind out of the gutter, or whatever rules the architect-ex-Marine followed to keep his nose so damn clean.

“Yeah, sure you can,” was Kyle's skeptical retort. The younger man rolled his shoulders wearily and finally seemed to let up on the oppressive tone. “Well, I'm out of here—they sent out the all-clear, no casualties, so I'm flying to my apartment to crash.”

“Okay, goodnight, I guess. Good work out there,” Hal said by way of a goodbye.

The younger Lantern smiled back, suddenly more himself. “Thanks. You guys too.” As he started to walk away Kyle hesitated and stabbed a finger their way, saying, “And if you take my advice you'll stay away from Todd.”

With that, Kyle set off toward the door, only pausing as he walked passed Red Hood and his accumulated admirers to sling a snarky, “Not dead yet, asshole? Shame.”

Jason immediately reacted, throwing up a middle finger as he tossed out a, “Fuck you, Bitch-Lantern,” that sounded almost playful. “I've already come back once, what makes you think I wouldn't rise up from the grave just to kick your ass?”

Kyle was still walking towards the door, yelling back, “I'd like to see you try, Failure-Robin.”

“Suck a dick, Rayner, I could bend you in half,” Jason retorted easily.

“I've got a piece of alien jewelry that says otherwise.”

“I bet your ring runs out of power before I run out of bullets.”

Kyle huffed. “Pff, whatever.” He turned the corner out the door with a much more friendly, “See ya nerd.”

Red Hood rolled his eyes and flapped a dismissive hand at him. “See ya geek.”

Hal stared wide-eyed and dazed in Kyle's wake. The hell was all that? How the heck did Kyle know Red Hood, Jason Todd? And what was with all the belligerent sexual tension? Did he have to worry about Kyle now too? Damn it, this was getting out of hand!

“That kid's a problem,” Hal muttered darkly.

Guy looked like he had somehow fallen even deeper in love after hearing his crush shout at Kyle to suck a dick. “Shit, this is bad,” he said and Hal wasn't entirely sure what Guy meant by it, but he was also certain that the man was correct.

“I hate to say it, but I agree.” Hal chewed his lip, for the first time beginning to think this wouldn't be an open and shut case of show-up-get-laid. He might actually have to work for his prize. It would probably be worth it, though. God, but he could die happy crushed between those beefy thighs.

“Maybe we should...I don't know, join forces or something,” Guy offered.

Hal frowned. “How would that work?”

Guy raised both brows and pointed at himself with a deprecating chuckle. “You're asking me?”

Of course, what was he thinking? “Good point, um...” Hal thought a moment before he said, “How about...we share information and give each other space to work, but everyone else is the enemy. If either of us land him we back off.”

Guy nodded. “I'm game. Truce?”

“Truce,” Hal answered. They sealed their alliance with a fist bump, ring to ring, and both Lantern rings sparked green briefly. Hal and Guy dropped their hands and moved to regard their competition with zealous scrutiny.

“Right,” Hal said after a moment to strategize. “Now let's get in there. You try to push out Booster and the ex-Titans and I'll take the Supers.”

Guy punched a fist into his hand and grinned, ready for a brawl. “Got it.”

#ECoJ AU #Everyone Crushing on Jason AU #Chapter 2 #Jason Todd #Red Hood #robin #Hal Jordan #Guy Gardner #Kyle Rayner #Green Lantern #dick grayson #Nightwing #JayKyle #JayHal #JayGuy #fanfic #Justice League #crack #jason todd rarepairs

[mothmansfriend]

when i’m sad oh god i’m sad (pt. 2)

link to pt. 1

follows a very similar timeline to @tearxofink‘s fic Rules for a Functioning Alcoholic but will prob have differences (such as no established relationships) and takes place in @illogicallyinclined‘s hockey au after the mention of Remus possibly having undiagnosed bipolar disorder

update: i think its important to acknowledge roughly where this takes place in the big timeline bc D doesn’t really drink past freshman yr in this AU because of self preservation and trauma, alcoholism was more an issue before then in high school (when remus and d were Rowdy Boys) but the stress of Logan’s concussion lead to some heavy drinking that was caught quickly by Virgil because Remus Cannot Keep Secrets.

summary: Remus has undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder and is dealing with a severe depressive episode in the aftermath of realizing that binge drinking with D wasn’t just his own search to Feel Something, but was also D’s relapse into alcoholism. Remus comes to the realization of lost time during manic episodes and refuses help.

tw: graphic descriptions of a depressive episode, self harm (burning),  suicidal thoughts, and suicidal intent (but not attempt). unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol abuse, mentioned alcoholism, undiagnosed mental illness, miscommunications on shared trauma, ask to tag if i missed any.

There are a number of places that are simply uncomfortable to sleep. Barely sitting up and using the chairs provided by the previous tenants as a pillow is certainly one of them. It takes Remus a moment to identify what woke him up as there's another round of knocking on his door and he doesn’t want to respond. It’s bright out,the sun is blocked from his figure by the curtains covering most of the windows. He hears Roman’s muffled voice as the locked doorknob jiggles, “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is”.

Their footsteps move away and Virgil speaks, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that-” his voice fades as they enter the kitchen.

Remus can barely pick himself off the floor before his phone lit up with a notification.

the shittier twin: You good? LMK when you’re coming home, Virgil is lowkey freaking out  (received: 10:14)

He stares at the words willing his brain to focus as he decides, maybe he should reply.

He sends a photo of a fat pigeon he took outside a club him and D got kicked out of a few weeks ago. It would be clear that the picture was taken at a different time, but does get message of ‘I’m alive’ across. Which is about as much as Remus is willing to communicate to people that haven’t even tried to contact him before now. How sad is it that his twin brother didn’t even check on him until six days later. Or maybe he should be asking if it’s sad that after four days Roman still hasn’t noticed that he’s home, or that it took Roman six to even ask? Remus spends all this time in the theatre and in the arts studio, and still Roman was the only one to ask, though at the request of someone who wants to get mad at him. He considers if maybe that he is a bad person, and that isn’t something he normally would care about, but if he weren’t then people might have checked on him. He usually hangs out with D almost everyday and he swears he’s never been gone more than maybe four days. But no one else seems concerned at all.

He considers reasons why this might be and gets stuck on Roman’s comment that he hasn’t been gone that long, and the implications then of him being gone longer. Things that don’t really make sense, but he knows losing your train of thought and getting distracted is a part of ADHD, but maybe, this is much more concerning. How does he know that he’s only ever been gone so long, maybe those lapses are more than a few minutes of zoning out. Which leads to, does Remus know who he is during these lapses? The contrast between the two prince twins have always been clear in their behaviour, Roman who follows every word their parents whisper in his ear. The boy grew up to be an actor after years of who takes any command without thought at that chance to be on top, and revelled in praise. It’s the cowards way of survival, are you really living if you’re not you? He knows Roman wasn’t quite loving that, but he still complied. Remus has always known exactly who he is and who he always will be. But the uncertainty of who he is in those spaces that seem to be taking up more and more space, maybe he;s been following someones script too?

He’s constantly changing his mind and forgetting where he is, are his feelings his? If everything the thought he knew about himself is slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass than how does he make it stop?

—

Virgil slides into the recently empty chair next to Roman the second Patton gets up to ask the waitress for another round of coffee, he steals one of Roman’s sausages and speaks, “By the way, I’m catching a ride to your place with you and D”.

Roman squawks at the sausage thief, “Why? I already told you Remus isn’t home!”

Virgil rolls his eyes, “Yeah I know, just humour me. I went to talk to Joan before we left and Thomas said Remus texted to apologize for missing practice, he’s never done that before! I just wanna come check, you can make fun of me later or whatever.”

“Fine, whatever, I know you’d just show up anyway. I don’t think him texting Thomas means anything though, even if it is weird.”

“Well we can agree to disagree then.”

—

The entry to the apartment the Prince twins share with D was just as full of banter as expected. D and Roman irritating Virgil without effort but Virgil matching that with his own comebacks and determination to check on Remus. “Alright, Emo Knightmare, let’s go knock on his cave door so I can know you again, that he isn’t home” Roman drops his bag next to the couch and heads down the shared hallway of D, Remus, and the storage closet. D walks past him with comments of a essay due tomorrow and disappears. Roman walks down and knocks on the door sternly once maintaining eye contact with Virgil knowing there will not be a response. Virgil follows him and he knocks again after a moment and jiggles the knocked door handle. “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is.” Roman turns and leads them back out into the living room towards the kitchen.

Virgil pauses for a moment watching the door before he follows, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that he actually texted to apologize for not showing up today. You know when Remus is out he never remembers to charge his phone, it just seems weird.”

Roman exhales and wordlessly pulls out his phone shooting off a text to his twin before pulling some leftovers out of the fridge to offer to Virgil despite the fact they had eaten not long ago. Virgil accepts and he puts it on two plates for the microwave. Roman’s phone vibrates on the counter with a text. The emo leans over to read and snorts, “Wait, is Remus’s name actually ‘the shittier twin’ in your phone? He just send a picture of  what appears to be an obese pigeon, that doesn’t answer my question at all!”

Roman shrugs, “Of course it is, and yeah that sounds about right, it’s like he’s trying to communicate through hieroglyphics, he’s just telling us he’s fine.”

Virgil’s dark eyes examine Roman’s face for any reflection that he’s just trying to make him stop bothering him with his concern, but when he sees nothing he drops his defensiveness, “Yeah, okay, he’s your brother, he’s kind of like a cat I guess. He always comes home right?”

The microwave beeps and Roman slides the extra plate in front of Virgil, “Exactly, he’s just like this, I’ll text you when he comes back. You don’t need to worry about it, Virge.”

Virgil shoots him a small smile before taking his plate to the couch closely followed by the oldest Prince twin as they settle down with Netflix until they need to leave for their respective classes.

—

Roman blearily wipes his eyes as he wakes up in his dark room and rolls over to check the time. 2:34am wake up and bathroom break time. He briefly considers just rolling over and waiting four or five hours until he needs to get up for class, but decides there’s just a higher chance of getting a restless sleep the rest of the night. The hockey captain rolls out of bed standing in his room shirtless and only wearing a random pair of soft sleep pants and stumbles out of his room, crossing the living room and entry way he’s about to try the handle of the dark bathroom door when it opens to reveal a tall dark figure.

Roman jumps back with an admittedly embarrassing squawk before recognizing the dark figure to be a freshly showered, exhausted, and almost weak looking Remus. The two stood in silence for a moment, Remus not even reacting to the sight of his brother. Roman awkwardly laughed for a moment, “Holy shit, Remus! I didn't even realize you were home.”

Remus stares emptily, moving to walk away without replying, Roman stops him with a hand on his shoulder, “Are you like, uh, okay? You kind of look like shit”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say as suddenly Remus’s face hardens into a snarl, “Oh fuck you, Roman.” His voice cracks halfway through but it doesn’t do anything to diminish the venom in his voice, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Christ! If you’re going to be an asshole then nevermind, I just wanted to check up on you. You know, like a concerned brother just might do?” Roman fires back suddenly feeling defensive. The tone of voice Remus uses almost sounds scared to him but he doesn’t have the energy to pry at Remus in the hallway less than 6 feet from D’s door at 2:30am.

“You don’t get to play any kind of concerned brother role right now! You don’t just get to decide to be concerned one day, it’s all about appearances with you, I dont fuck with that!” Remus’s voice raises as he gets more and more riled up, his voice sounds like shit as if he hasn’t used it in days, “Tell me when you think I got home, Princey, huh? You don't know shit about me and it’s time you stopped asking like you do.” He steps towards Roman edging back down the hallway to the living room.

“Why am I supposed to know when you got home?” Roman fires back, “You’re an adult! You’ve taken care of yourself fine for years, I’m not your parent I don’t need to know where you are twenty-four-fucking-seven!”

Vaguely, Roman hears D’s bedroom door open and feels brief regret that was smashed by Remus shoving him backwards. “You don’t need to know! But, did you ever think to wonder? Did you ever once care enough to ask? No! I don’t remember ever being gone more than three or four days.”

Roman recoils for a second in confusion but counters standing his ground, “What does that fucking mean? You own a calendar, a phone, you should know your average in the last year has been like five to seven days, you can’t blame me that you decide to go on a bender every 6 months or less. Can’t you ever grow up?”

“It means I don’t know where I was for two to four of those days at least! You self absorbed prick! Fuck!” Remus crumples for a second, his facial expression looks so, lost. He violently grabs and tugs on his still damp hair. He stands back up face guarded once again. “I know I never go out without a plan, I have paid some fucking terrible prices for that that you never need to know about. But, you’re telling me that I was out there and I don’t remember it? And no one thought to mention anything to me? And you’re asking if I’m ‘okay’? Fuck that, fuck you. I’m going back to my room, and ideally I’ll fucking rot and die before I have to look at you again,” Remus seethes before turning and slamming his door without waiting for a response.

Roman sags at his brothers exiting remarks, making tentative eye contact with D who waits in the dark hallway. “I don’t know what to do,” Roman says quietly.

D moves towards him moving them to the couch offering a comforting touch to the remaining twin, “Roman, I cannot tell you that I have any idea about what just happened. But, it seems like he just wants you to be there for him, in his own weird displays of affection he does love you and I think maybe he’s scared sometimes that you don’t care for him, and he lashes out. But right now, you need to go back to sleep so you can go to your boring nine am lecture, and I’ll try to spend time with him tomorrow. Sound good?”

Roman examines D, letting himself feel vulnerable for a moment but trusts that D knows what to do. He’s known the twins since high school, if anyone knew it would be him. “Thank you, D” Roman whispers, leaning into the little affection for a moment before he stands up and moves them back down the hallway.

Roman goes to the bathroom as originally planned but thinks about the things his younger brother had said. How much is he missing? What does it mean for Remus to simply not remember days at a time? Is it because of drinking too much or something else?

As Roman tucks himself back into bed, preparing himself for the restless sleep he had been trying to avoid. His mind wanders, and he can’t help but think that maybe he should be questioning blood stains on Remus’s carpet a little more.

#sanders sides angst #sanders sides #remus sanders #hockey au #university au #creativitwins #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus prince #roman prince #virgil fosc #bipolar disorder

[olicitysecretsanta]

Wrapped up

For @sadfangirl05 by @sparklesannie

Fluffy: Best Friends AU. 

“Smoak!” Oliver called out as he made his way through the whole IT department of QC finally making a stop at the door to her office.

Head of IT Department

Felicity M. Smoak

He’ll never get used to that title—even though she’s been the head of the department for five years already.

“Smoak- hey there you are! You said you were coding but you weren’t in the server room.”

It’s where she normally goes to code, it’s the only place where she knows she won’t be disturbed.

“Yeah, I decided to do it from my office.” She says without even looking up, her voice muffled by the pen she’s chewing on. The only one who can understand her when she does this is Oliver, but of course he’s had a ton of practice. “What’s—Do I smell coffee?” She asks finally looking up and yanking the pen from her red colored lips.

Oliver smiles. After all these years he’s finally figured out how to get Felicity’s attention when she’s coding.

Coffee. 

“Indeed, you do. Here,” Oliver offers her a big to-go cup from Jitters. “I bought you a Peppermint Mocha to celebrate the beginning of the holiday season.”

“Very thoughtful.” Felicity hums appreciatively as she sips her coffee. “Thank you. So…what do you really want—and don’t say nothing because we both know you only bring me coffee when you need something from me. So… shoot, what can I do for you?”

“You know me too well.” Oliver winks at his best friend. “When does Hanukkah start this year?”

She looks a little surprised and confused by the question but still answers all the same. “Tomorrow. Why?”

“I was thinking it’s about time we learned about our holidays. So I’m staying over at your place until Hanukkah is over and I was thinking you could come over to my place to celebrate Christmas.”

“I’ve never done Christmas before. But I’m so busy with the company and the new software we’re implementing. I’m sorry Oliver but I’m gonna have to pass.”

“Lis come on. All you do is work, work, work. Besides you’re the boss here, which means you can—”

“Uh-uh. Don’t ‘Lis’ me you know I can’t resist it. And you’re one to talk Mr-I’ll-sleep-when-the-restaurant-opens. When was the last time you took a day off?”

Feeling attacked Oliver crossed his arms over his chest. Yes, he has been busy too, and like Felicity, he too is the boss. He’s been working nonstop for the past six months on opening his very own restaurant. And with the opening date getting closer he’s been spending a lot of time making sure everything is set in place. “Fair enough. How about I’ll take the time off if you agree to celebrate Christmas with me.”

A beat of silence passes as Felicity wages wether to say yes or no, then a huge smile appears on her face and a sparkle in her eyes he’s never seen before. “Oliver Queen you are way too easy. Of course I’ll do it. And since you can actually cook we can even make latkes! Ooh! This is going to be so fun!”

Did she just trick me into taking a mini vacation.

Smoak: 1

Queen: 0

*****on the last day of Hanukkah ****

Felicity insisted that he didn’t have to buy her presents for Hanukkah but he did it anyways. He wanted to, plus he liked showering his best friend with gifts.

He got her a lot of useful things like, computer parts and processors, earrings, makeup, a beautiful red dress he insisted she saved for the Christmas dinner his parents hosted every year. He also got her a new platinum menorah with her name engraved on the bottom, a collection of Doctor Who DVDs and lastly a hand stitched red stocking to hang on her fire place.

He got a kick of saving the stocking for last.

“Aww! It has my name on it!” She jumped excitedly from the couch to hug him. “Thank you!” She presses her lips to his cheek.

Oliver could feel his face getting warmer thanks to the rush of blood that flowed up to his cheeks. It’s not the first time she’s kissed his cheeks but that doesn’t seem to matter.

It’s embarrassing that he’s almost thirty years old and has a crush on his female best friend. Total fucking cliché.

“Whoops! Sorry about that.” And he’s still blushing when she uses her thumb to wipe the lipstick stain she left there. “So what did you think? You like Hanukkah?”

“It was really nice. Definitely way more meaningful than what my family does to celebrate Christmas. Now I feel like you’re not going to like it.”

“I doubt it. Not that I know much about it but it always looks fun in the movies.”

***** Christmas Eve ****

It was Christmas Eve and Oliver called Felicity to make sure she remembered to pack a bag. Sure she had a change of clothes at his apartment but that was for emergencies only.

She would crash at his place often especially around the time the quarterly reports were due at QC. She would work until the wee hours of the night and she would stay over at his guest room since he lived so close to the office.

He also kept an overnight bag at her place. More often than he cares to admit he’s faked being drunk or drunker than he really was just so he could stay over at her place. In truth it wasn’t just staying over at her place that he liked, what he really liked was that she babied him. She would tuck him into bed, drop a kiss to his forehead—probably thinking that he wouldn’t notice. But he did.

He’d tried to confess his not platonic feelings for her but he never went through with it because he knew she wouldn’t take him seriously if he was ‘drunk’.

He knew that she cared for him but just how much he had no idea. She never crossed any boundaries or said anything that might even suggest she even found him attractive.

They were just friends. Best friends.

“So we can stay at my parents house—”

“I think you mean castle.”

“Mansion?” He offers and he can practically hear her nod in approval over the phone. “As I was saying, we can stay over there tonight so we can have a proper Christmas morning with family and presents.”

Originally they planned to go to his parents’ dinner then go back to his apartment and then open presents on Christmas morning. But Oliver knew that the more time he spent alone with Felicity the more opportunities he’d have to screw up their friendship.

And there is nothing more important to him than Felicity.

“Yeah, That sounds nice. By the way thanks for helping out again with Christmas shopping. It’s really difficult shopping for billionaires.”

Oliver chuckles, he had the same problem shopping for Felicity’s presents. Though his problem had more to do with the what he really wanted to buy her not his budget.

“No problem. So I’ll pick you up around six, that okay?”

“Yeah, see you. Don’t forget the wine!”

“I won’t.”  

********** *********  

He knows how gorgeous the red dress he bought her is. But he’s not prepared at all to be so blown away by the way it fits her. The straps hang low around her shoulders and the sweetheart neckline accentuates her collarbones and makes her neck appear to be even longer. Tempting him to run his hands over her body and plant kisses all over her neck and shoulders. Her hair is done up, pulled back into what looks like a low bun and a couple of curls frame her face that is devoid of her usual glasses. A thin gold chain he recognizes- it was a birthday present from earlier this year- hangs from her neck. The dress is loosely draped on her lower body, a high split on her left leg shows a decent amount of gorgeously toned thigh.  

Felicity looks smoking hot. Pun very much intended.  

Felicity has been waiting for a good minute by the door, but his brain has yet to register that.  

“Is it too much? It’s too much, right? Is it the hair? Maybe if I wear it down instead—”

“No! No. It’s good like that. You, um,  look very—you—Wow.” Since when does he fumbles like an idiot? Oliver shakes his head as if to shake his brain back to function. “You look incredible, Felicity.”

She smiles brightly at him, her cheeks seem pinker than usual. “You don’t look bad yourself. Come on in, I’m gonna need help with my bag and the pre— did you bring the wine?”

“Yes. It’s in the car.” Oliver smiles as he walks past her to grab the wrapped presents she bought for his family. He can feel her eyes on him.  

Is she checking him out?  

Oliver bends more than necessary making sure to really bend his knees thus flexing his butt. He hears a whimper and oh yeah, she’s definitely checking him out.  

But when Oliver turns around he sees why Felicity is making that noise. She’s struggling to reach the zipper on her back it’s halfway done.  

So she wasn’t checking him out.  

“Oh, here let me. I got it.” Oliver drops his cargo and walks over to Felicity. He gently grabs the zipper with one hand and with the other he secures the ends of the zipper before pulling it closed. “There. All done.”  

Zipping up his best friend was not a good idea. He hadn’t planned to be in such close proximity much less this level of domesticity. Her soft skin beneath his fingertips, the smell of her perfume enveloping him and when she turns around he realizes just how closely together they were standing.  

Her eyes roam over his face before smiling. “Okay then let’s go.”  

Oliver helps her into her coat and grabs her bag and the presents.  

They are greeted by his sister when they get to the mansion.  

“Speedy. Good to see you.” Oliver drops a kiss to his baby sister’s forehead.  

“Merry Christmas, Ollie.” His sister responds. “Felicity, I didn’t know you were joining us.” Thea says as she hugs Felicity.  

“Yeah, well Oliver convinced me to celebrate Christmas with him this year.”  

His sister arches an eyebrow at him. She knows about his not so little crush on Felicity. Apparently it’s more obvious than he thought, the only one who doesn’t see it is Felicity.  

“Well then, come on drop you coat and let’s get you a drink.” Thea offers and pulls Felicity along to the main living area.  

Oliver hands off their bags and gifts to Raisa and she assures him she’ll put them up in their room. Rooms. She definitely said rooms.  

When Oliver steps into the main room looking for Thea and Felicity. He finds Thea by the bar but she’s with her boyfriend Roy not Felicity.  

He spots Felicity over with his parents by the fireplace, he walks over.  

“Oliver, dear.” His mother greets him with a hug and a kiss. “My beautiful boy.”  

“Mom.” Oliver widens his eyes in mock embarrassment, still he presses a kiss to her cheek then turns towards his father to hug him. “Hey, Dad.”

“Son.” Robert replies with a smile and offers him a glass of scotch which he gratefully accepts.  

Oliver continues to watch the exchange between Felicity and his mother.  

“I must say Felicity that dress is stunning.”

“Oh, thank you. Actually it was a Hanukkah present from Oliver.”  

Moira glances back at him, clearly impressed by his taste in women’s fashion. “Good choice. Very festive and very beautiful.”  

______________________

The rest of the night goes off smoothly. They have dinner in the formal dining room. Oliver makes sure to point out to Felicity that his parents only ever use the formal dining room for special occasions such as Christmas or birthdays.  

Felicity asks about their traditions for this holiday. Oliver tells her about when he and Thea were younger, how they used to race each other to see who could finish eating a candy cane first. Thea always won because she cheated. Also he liked seeing his sister win.  

Once they’re done with dinner they move back to the main living area to watch It’s a wonderful life before going to sleep.

“Well if you all excuse us Robert and I will head to bed now. We’ll see you in the morning.” Moira excuses herself and her husband.  

Thea fell asleep on Roy halfway through the movie so Roy gently picks Thea up and heads upstairs to their room.    

It seems like it was just yesterday that his baby sister used to run circles around him and Tommy. Oliver still can’t believe that Thea is twenty-three years old, a grown woman right before his eyes. He couldn’t be more proud of his sister. She is currently finishing off college to join Tommy’s latest business venture gentrifying The Glades.  

“Hey,” Felicity pokes his side pulling him from his thoughts.    

He’d forgotten that he lent her his jacket and he can’t help the way his chest tightens when he looks at her and sees her being dwarfed by his clothes. “I’m sorry I spaced out. What’d you say?”

“It’s midnight. Merry Christmas.” Pushing herself up by pressing a hand to his chest Felicity presses her lips to his cheek where they linger before sitting back down. Felicity burrows her face in his chest and sighs in contentment.  

“Merry Christmas.” His heart hammers at a painful pace threatening to jump out of his chest. He can’t help it. Felicity is looking up at him with that joyful smile of hers that brightens up your day. Suddenly Oliver thinks that she can feel his traitorous heartbeat, then she speaks.  

“Oliver?”  

“Yeah?”

“I kinda wanna get out of this dress.”

Holy shit, Smoak! What are you doing to me? Oliver thinks to himself. If it were up to him he’d rip off that dress with his teeth.  

“Of course.” Oliver gets up from the couch and offers her a hand up. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

Oliver shows Felicity to her room that’s actually across from his. He helps Felicity unzip her dress then he’s gone to his room. He barely sleeps that night with the image of his hands gently taking off her clothes.

*****XMAS MORNING *****

Felicity knocks on Oliver’s bedroom door, giddy with excitement. She’s practically bouncing on the balls of her feet but Oliver doesn’t open the door. So she opens the door and walks in to wake him up.  

It’s not the first time she’s done it, she does it all the time when he sleeps over at her place.  

Oliver lies face down with his arms hugging the pillow, the duvet is a mess wrapped around his legs. He’s shirtless but Felicity can see his pj bottoms peeking out from under the covers.  

Damn his gorgeous perfectly toned ass.  

“Oliver.” Felicity gently sits on the edge of the mattress and shakes his shoulder.  

In a swift -and not thought through- move Felicity lays down on top of him and puts her arms around his torso, her hands coming to rest one across his chest and the other on his abs. “Come on! It’s time for presents!” She squeezes him to emphasize her urgency.  

Oliver grumbles in response something she can’t understand. “What was that?”

“I said,” Oliver turns his head to the side so his voice isn’t muffled by the pillow anymore and grabs both of her hands and pulls them to his chest. “This has been gift enough.”

Felicity’s heartbeat quickens to an alarming rate, she’s still plastered to his back and all she wants to do right then and there is plant one on him. Oh how she wishes she could have the guts to make a move already. But she doesn’t so she settles for dropping a kiss to his cheek. “Oh, well then I guess I’m the gift that keeps on giving. Come on I wanna open presents!”  

—————  

After copious amounts of coffee and delicious french toast, Oliver and his family gather around the Christmas tree to swap presents.  

He is happy to see that everyone has given gifts to Felicity despite her invitation to go along with him was last minute. Moira must have sent Raisa on an emergency shopping trip.  

Oliver and Felicity are the ones left to swap presents.  

“Merry Christmas Felicity.” Oliver says as he extends a manila folder for her to take.  

He watches intently as she opens it and studies the contents. He can see the exact moment when she realizes what he’s actually giving her.  

“Oliver! You can’t be serious!” She screeches.  

The papers state that he’s giving her twenty five percent of his trust fund. He is investing in her. Her dreams and her vision. Because he believes in her.  

“I am serious, Felicity. For as long as I’ve known you all you ever talked about is your dream of one day creating your own tech. So of course I’m giving you that chance. I believe in you.”

Unshed tears shine in her eyes and she smiles at him still not knowing if she should laugh or cry. Oliver hugs her to him and she settles comfortably on his chest. “Thank you so much, Oliver.” She whispers as he drops a kiss to her forehead.  

Felicity squeezes him before pulling away to pepper his cheeks with kisses, one lands half on his lips. They both blush profusely but before anyone can say anything, specially his sister, Felicity urges him to open up her gift.  

It’s a small green box wrapped with a red bow. It doesn’t weigh much, in fact it almost feels like it’s empty.  

Carefully he unwraps the bow and takes off the lid of the box. He’s confused by what’s inside it.  

Mistletoe?

Does she even know what you’re supposed to do when you’re under it?

Everyone is quiet waiting for his reaction. When he finally finds his voice it comes out lower than he anticipated. “Umm…Do you know what this is for?”

Felicity doesn’t say anything, instead she puts both hands on his cheeks and pulls him to her. She plants her soft lips on his and it feels like time has stopped. Everything around them disappears and it’s just him and Felicity like he’s always wished.  

He’s ripped from this fantasy when he hears his sister ‘aww’ from behind him.  

“Felicity?” He asks dumbfounded because he’s an idiot that hasn’t realized Felicity’s feelings for him. That this isn’t one sided.  

“I’m tired of waiting for you to get a clue. You are a good friend—the very best. You’re smart, caring, charming and handsome and I’ve been waiting four years for you to ask me out!”

“I had no idea you felt this way.”

“I’ve been single since the day we met. Do you have any idea how many dates I’ve turned down?! A lot Oliver, a lot. Not even a coffee.” Thea chuckles at that in the background while Felicity continues to lay it on him. “You seriously didn’t notice? I thought I’d made it obvious with the forehead kisses, the hand holding, the lingering glances…I’m pretty sure I cuddled y—” she doesn’t get to finish because Oliver is kissing her now.  

One hand on her back the other cradles her cheek as he kisses her. Right there in the middle of living room, in front of his family.  

Best Christmas ever!!

Hope you liked it <3 happy holidays

#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity secret santa 2018 #submission

[eerythingisshaka]

Pt. 3 The Kickback

Part 1  Part 2

(M’Baku x Black!OC) 

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N:This is a continuation of my Day 24 Fictober prompt.  I recommend going back to that if you want to enjoy this fully!  Next chapter will wrap this up!

Gina couldn’t keep from looking in her rearview mirror at the Mercedes Benz G-Class trailing her car.  How nuts is it that after two chance encounters, this M’Baku character is coming over to her house for...what?  She gripped her wheel tightly as she turned down her block.  She’s grown, so whatever she wants to do, is no problem, especially since he seems down...right?  But is he down because of her body or her brain?  He’s already gotten a headful of both and soon Gina begins to regret the executive decision she’s made soon as she brings her old bucket in park.

Getting out, Gina waves at M’Baku as he parks on the visitor’s side of the apartment’s garage, jogging to catch up to her, smiling infectiously like a kid arriving at a theme park.

“I almost thought you were trying to lose me back there for a second.”  M’Baku says.

Gina messes with her keys walking through the lobby.  “Why do you say that?”

M’Baku motions to the elevator, hitting a button to call it.  “Well I don’t want you to feel bad but you didn’t use your signal for half of the turns you did.  If I were a cop, your license would be on my mantle.”

Gina looks up at M’Baku in embarrassment.  “Ooh,, yeah?  Sorry, I was kind of distracted.  But hey, at least the wine wasn’t in my car.  Then they’d really have something on me.”  Gina inconspicuously rolls her eyes.  Why did she have to be so damn corny?

M’Baku holds up the white wine bottle with his happy gap toothed smile.  “This is true.  Saved by the bell, indeed.”

On cue, the elevator doors open with a ding as Gina leads the way inside hitting the fourth floor button.  As the doors close, conversation topics leave Gina’s mind completely as the motors quietly whine to life, elevating them both one floor at a time.  M’Baku just stares at the buttons, giving her some license to study his appearance in the bright indoor lighting.  

His skin has a light shine to it, possibly from the jog, or maybe he was more nervous than he let on, either way it only highlighted his melanin more beautifully.  The roundness of his cheeks give him a look of trustworthiness, only slightly masked by his manicured beard.  The basic olive green shirt laying across the mounds and valleys of his torso held her attention desperately until her eyes caught hold of his thighs, amplified thickness under his trousers due to the cross at his ankle.  The wine bottle held in front of his crotch helps to censor her mind for what she wondered most.

Her thirst became punctuated in reality, licking her lips as her eyes met his face again only to see his gaze had left the glowing buttons to catch Gina completely caught up in his stance.

Gina instantly cracks up, waving her face from feeling hot.  “I wondered-uh, where did you get your...socks?”

M’Baku’s eyes shoot up as he looks down at his amazingly moisturized ankles above his canvas shoes; completely sockless. “Umm…”

Gina curses under her breath as the elevator finally reaches her floor.  M’Baku tucks his lips to muffle a smile as she crosses out of the enclosed space to walk down the hall.

“M’Baku, I wasn’t planning on any company, so excuse the place for being a bit of a mess.  It gets kind of crazy around finals time especially.”

“I don’t mind at all.  I trust the cleanliness of your place more than the average person, without having been in it.”  M’Baku boasts.

“Why is that?”  She asks, opening the door, kicking her shoes off.  

M’Baku follows suit.  “Well, I’ll say if  I knew food borne illnesses off the cuff as much as you, I would have every surface spotless.”

Gina laughs.  “Well then, you know me very little, mister.  But I’m not disgusting, just junky, so watch your step.”

Gina goes around her living room to pick up some stray books and papers off the couch, table and floor.  

“Take a seat whenever you like!”  Gina calls as she goes into her bedroom, which is way more of an embarrassment, picking up her discarded clothes and undergarments from the week, shoving them in her closet.

M’Baku calls back.  “I might as well get this bottle started while it’s still cool.  Where is your opener?”

“Uhh...second drawer by the sink.”

M’Baku shuffles a couple drawers before finding the right one.  Gina comes back out to see him  twisting into the cork.

“Working up a sweat there, huh?”  Gina smirks, walking across the room and turning on her TV.

M’Baku peers over at her.  “Poking fun at your guests first visit?  You’re as witty as I know you to be.”  M’Baku says with a swift jerk of the cork followed by a satisfying pop.

Gina gets some glasses from a cabinet.  “That’s the thing.  I don’t know if I should treat you like a guest or like a long time friend and not give a shit.  Hell, you already know more about me now than most folks do.”

The sound of the wine glugging into the glasses fill the silence a moment as she hands one into M’Baku’s hand.   They share a sip, looking over their glasses at each other as they savor their drinks.  M’Baku smacks his lips looking at the glass thoughtfully, as Gina almost spits her wine muffling a laugh as a thought crosses her mind.

M’Baku looks at her curiously.  “What is it?  Do I have…”  M’Baku starts to scratch and pinch his nose.  

“No!  You’re fine, I’m just tickled by how…”  Gina hem-haws around walking away.

M’Baku follows her to the couch.  “What?  What is so funny, I can’t take the anticipation!”

Gina looks him over, tucking her feet underneath her as she builds up the tension deliciously.  “Are you an insecure man?”

M’Baku sits up a little straighter, cocking one eyebrow up.  “Hardly.  But I don’t like being made a fool of.”

Gina nods.  “Ok,” and goes on to switching stations on the TV.  Gina plays innocently as she feels his eye barring into her profile.  “So do you come around here often or…”

“Gina!  Please!”  M’Baku moans childishly, looking pitiful as she cackles.  

“Aha!  Yes!  Beg for mercy!  No, it’s just that glass looks completely ridiculous in your hand.  Like look at mine….”  She holds it by her face in a model-esque way.  “Then yours is just…”  She sets down her glass and takes his hand holding the glass.  His skin is soft, but his hands aren’t big for nothing as she can feel the power beneath his skin, frankly surprised the glass hadn’t broken.  “It looks like a shot glass in your hand.  You might as well drink from the bottle!”  She laughs nervously, letting his hand go as his face drops.

M'Baku looked serious for a moment.  Kind of a moment too long, Gina began to feel uncomfortable, she considers asking if she offended him until his booming laughter busted forth.

“Hanuman's sake, you are funny!  You try to seem shy but your bluntness is refreshing when it jumps out.”  He says, sitting back, laying his arm across the back of the couch.

Gina felt relief as she giggled back.  “I can't help it sometimes.”  She says, refilling their glasses again as time went on until they just stare at the television.

“Gina, I have to admit, I didn't expect the night to go this way.”  M’Baku states so quietly Gina thought he was talking to himself.

“How was it supposed to go?” Gina asks curiously, turning closer to him.  She waits patiently for his answer.

M'Baku hesitates, staring at his emptied glass and the dry bottle in front of them.  “I didn't expect to talk to you so effortlessly, be around you shamelessly.  I shouldn't be though, our meeting at the grocery was the best conversation I've ever held over produce.”

Gina smiles resting her head on her hand.  “You're not too bad yourself.  I wouldn't have asked you up without really wanting to, you're an interesting individual.”

“I've gotten that a lot.” He says.

“Oh I bet!  Not just cuz of the foreign nature of you though, don't get me wrong your culture sounds amazing. But, i don't know, you just seem so down to earth, so opposite of what you appear.”

“Did I intimidate you?” he asks, dropping some extra bass in his voice.

Gina rocks a little back and forth, thinking carefully about what next to say. “Kind of, yeah. I mean first of all look at you.  Where’s the beef?  It’s you!  But also, I looked ratty as hell when we first met and you still seemed interested in who I am and then after seeing me in the club, you're treating me normally.  I don't invite guys to see me by the way.”

M'Baku raises his hands in surrender.  “I wouldn't have gone, I swear.  I was just there because of the dumb tradition. But...I was glad I had.  You have great stage presence and...”

M'Baku pauses before giggling to himself.

“What?” she asks.

M'Baku looks in the kitchen.  “Is there.more wine or…”

“What's so funny?” Gina asks, voice rising in distress.  

M'Baku bites his lip, looking at Gina intently. “I think it’s nice how awkward and normal you are, that is all.”

Gina’s mouth drops open as she sets her glass on the table.  “Are you calling me boring?”

M’Baku looks up at the ceiling as if to ponder.  “Uhhh, yes!  That’s the word I’m looking for!”

“Wow, ok.  You are no longer welcome in my house.  You can see yourself out!”  Gina replies with a dramatic flourish as she takes her remote to flip through channels.

“I’m just saying, you are adorably bashful, incredibly smart, functionally disorganized.  The most exciting thing I’ve seen tonight is that boa on the lamp-”

“And yet, you could not keep your eyes off of me THAT night, hm?  I seemed VERY interesting with half my clothes off and shaking it in your face, eh?”  She tosses the remote down as the channel landed on a random music video countdown station.  Gina picks up the empty bottle to discard in the trash can, collecting the glasses as well.

“None of that is what I meant.”  M’Baku replies casually, unphased by her outburst.

Gina doesn’t look at him as she quickly wipes down the glasses.  “You don’t understand having to keep myself one way in real life and another on stage.  Both of those people are me, I just have a time and place for both.”

“I understand keeping a part of yourself from the world.  More than you know.”

Gina turns to retort as she is drying a glass, and almost drops it when she sees what is going on in her living room.  M’Baku has hijacked the fuzzy boa off of her lamp and is parading around with a sassy sashay to boot.

“Oh...my….”  Gina covers her mouth as she snorts at his pitiful excuse of a sexy walk.  Awkwardly thrusting his hips from side to side instead of a fluid motion, he looks like his joints are out of place.

“I too, am a man of the stage just waiting for my big break.  Do you think I have a shot?”  He wiggles the boa’s feathers in Gina’s face as she comes around the counter.

Crossing her arms, she says, “Ok.  Give me ten seconds of your best and I’ll ‘swipe’ you if I wanna see more.”

M’Baku smiles at the challenge raising his arms to do a rather stiff body roll.  His large body seemed cumbersome for himself to control, but she couldn’t turn away.  Gina lost track of the countdown from laughing so hard.  “God!  Ok, maybe I’ll give you a tutorial first.  They don’t have dancers where you’re from?”

M’Baku takes a couple of labored breaths.  “We do, I’m just obviously not as skilled.”

Gina yanks the boa from around his neck.  “Fine.  So dig deep from your hips, like this…”  Gina over demonstrates to emphasize what she means.  M’Baku furrows his eyebrows in extreme focus as the rhythm trails body slowly.

“That’s it, looking good!”  Gina starts to move normally, adding some hip rotations as she spins around, getting into the music playing the in background.

“I can’t keep up with you!”  M’Baku scoffs, wiping his brow.

Gina winks over her shoulder.  “Of course you can!  Look just keep doing it.  Think of the music, not me or what you’re doing”  Gina wiggles around him, dressing the boa back over his shoulders, using the opportunity to feel them lightly so he becomes more comfortable.  

M’Baku is getting into the motions better now, Gina could tell as she remains behind him, watching the muscles in his back operate his body just the right way, his hips surrendering to the call of the song orchestrating their dance.  Gina forgot to take her hands off of him as she played with the boa more instinctual, running her hands over his shoulders and chest, for what she could reach.  The warmth of his body is so inviting, she felt intoxicated and not at all from the wine.  “I can’t tell if you’re swiping from back there…”  M’Baku looks over his shoulder at Gina, bringing his hand to hers, resting it on top.  Gina wasn’t sure how it happened, or who moved first but before she knew it, she felt ready to max out on a session with M’Baku.

Masterlist

#m'baku fic #shakafic #black panther fic