#got elbowed in the face to the internet ruined me

[somber-sapphic]

Ruined Plans

〘Prompt 10- "The only place we're going is to the pharmacy."〙

〘Notes- Two in one night and maybe (hopefully) a third will follow!〙

〘Summary- Your plans to go to the aquarium are ruined by a pesky cold and an overprotective witch.〙

〘Word Count- 700〙

〘Pairing- Wanda Maximoff x Sick Reader〙

〚Main Masterlist〛⌶〚Sicktember Masterlist〛

“Come on Wanda, please?!” You begged, following the witch as she walked around the kitchen island, narrowly avoiding her hastily kicked off heels. She was annoyed with you, well, maybe not with you, with the circumstances of the day.

It was supposed to be a fun trip to the aquarium (or “water zoo” as you jokingly called it) at night, with a special jellyfish exhibit. The videos you’d found on the internet showed beautiful creatures flowing under blacklight floating and pulsing against each other. It was magnificent. You had been looking forward to it for weeks.

Then, you got sick. Some kid you had rescued had repaid you with a cold that was taking a toll on you. You’d loaded up on cold meds and participated in every home remedy you could find, but nothing was working.

An hour ago, you had made the wonderful decision to take twice the recommended dose of Dayquil, hoping against hope that it would make you well enough to enjoy this trip. Despite your best efforts, it didn’t work. For whatever reason, this bug seemed immune to the medication you’d been throwing at it.

“No. The only place we’re going is to the pharmacy.” She huffed, whirling around to face you. The witch’s forehead was crinkled in concern, her brow furrowed, and lips turned sharply downward. She was worried, but also disappointed about missing the jellyfish.

“Wandaaaaa!” You whined pouting and stamping your foot. You were acting pathetic, that you were well aware of. In this instance, you felt like you deserved a bit of a break. You were sort of high on cough medicine and something you were very excited about wasn’t happening. Everyone deserves a little temper tantrum after that.

“Don’t ‘Wanda’ me, missy.” She sighed and shook her head slightly, regaining her composure.

“We’ll go soon, okay? But for now, as soon as that stuff wares off you’re going to crash hard. I mean, a fever even with the amount that you took, love that’s a bad sign and you know it.”

You slumped and crossed your arms over your chest, turning to stare at the floor. The two of you stayed in fragile silence until a sneeze ruined it. You caught the sneeze in your sweater covered palms, holding them there to catch two more. It was gross.

Wanda walked forward and took your elbows, her sock clad feet padding quietly across the kitchen tile. You lowered your hands slowly and sniffled, wiping your nose on your sleeve. With the adrenaline gone, you were feeling how you actually felt. And how you actually felt was bad.

“We’ve been planning this for months.” You whispered, on the verge of real tears. It wasn’t very often that you got so excited about specific plans, but this trip was something you had been looking forward to since the moment Wanda had the idea.

“Aw, sweetheart, I know. I’ll reschedule, okay? We’ll go as soon as we can. For now, why don’t I make you some tea, yeah? I know your throat hurts.” She was right of course, your throat definitely hurt. Every swallow felt like knives scraping down your esophagus.

“I don’t like tea.” You complained meekly, lower lip beginning to quiver. Wanda rolled her eyes a bit but understood your stubbornness. It was not a secret that you despised the leaf water, but she also knew that it would help.

“I’ll make it with lots of extra honey. Go change into something nice and warm and we’ll watch something about the ocean, we’ll have our own little aquarium.” Wanda said kindly, leaning over to kiss your forehead. You nodded, tempted by the idea of an ocean documentary. It was a cute idea and better than nothing.

“I love you.” You whispered, still not ready to admit that you should probably be laying down. She grinned and kissed your forehead again, pulling you into a quick hug.

“I love you too. Oh, and I wasn’t joking about the pharmacy. We’re going tomorrow, you took all of the medicine. Dummy.” You groaned and waved a hand at her as you walked away, trudging to the stairs. It may not have been the night you were looking forward to, but it would still be fun. Or at least…maybe. Your body was beginning to make you second guess that fact.

〖Join My Taglist!〗@lovelyy-moonlight, @bloomingflowersthings, @lots-of-pockets, @asiangmrchk13, @fxckmiup, @animealways, @scrambled-brain-eggs, @kljhsong, @juststuckhereforever, @fayhar, @chairhere, @canvascoloredin, @iliketozoneout, @ash26424, @goldenempyrean, @waltermis

#sickfic #fanfiction #sick fanfiction #fever #marvel sickfic #marvel #sick reader #marvel mcu #fever whump #wanda maximoff #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x sick reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #wanda marvel #sick fanfic #wanda mcu #mcu sickfic #avengers sickfic #avengers #mission gone wrong #flu #caretaking #fluff #sicktember #sicktember 2023 #somber's sicktember

[daughterofthereaper02]

If you’re still taking TGM requests: platonic group (mainly phoenix, rooster, and hangman) trying to take care of sick younger reader. A few lines from the internet for inspiration: “Put your arm around my- Or just fall on me, that works too." "As much as I want you to rest right now, it's freaking me out that I can hold you down this easily." "This is the third time I've had to put you back in the bed. Why the heck do you want to lie on the floor so bad?"

A/n: I have been thinking about this all day! I was ready to kick my feet in the air as I thought about it.

You stumbled into your place, coughing into your elbow. Jake held you steady, "Okay, little mouse, let's get you to the couch," he said, "Put your arm around my- or just fall on me, that works too" he chuckled as you lost your balance. Bradley and Natasha were closing the door and putting away the supplies they bought while Jake helped you. "Just gotta get you to the couch so we can figure out what to do," he told you.

You leaned heavily on him and he just scooped you up and put you on the couch. "Y/n, you really need more food in your place... Scratch that, you need more of everything," Bradley said as he noticed your empty cabinets. He felt like a mother hen at that moment, Mother Goose would have fit him well just like it did with his dad.

It was no secret that everyone babied you because you were the youngest, you were like their little sister and you often forgot to take care of yourself. What really was no secret was that Hangman, Phoenix, and Rooster, took care of you the most.

Natasha came over and took your temperature, "Jesus, Munchkin! You're burning up! You should have never tried to come into work, kiddo," she told you, shaking her head. She helped you up, "Let's get you changed, guys can you get the medicine ready?" She asked. You rolled your eyes, "I'm not completely helpless!" You said, your voice hoarse and it was obvious you were exhausted. "Says the one that nearly passed out during our briefing!" Bradley called.

Phoenix helped you get changed as you shivered, "I'm taking you out shopping when you're better. You have the bare minimum, kid. You're stationed here permanently, you need stuff," she sighed. You just waved your hand, "'M okay... I got what I need," you shrugged.

They gave you medicine and you fell asleep pretty quick after it, they left you alone in your room and you barely realized that you pulled the blanket and pillow off the bed to lay on the floor. You liked how cold the floor felt against your feverish skin and you fell into a deep sleep. Bradley checked on you and put you back into the bed, frowning at how you barely moved, normally you woke up at the slightest noise.

This happened another time and it was throwing them all for a loop. When they went in for a third time to check your temperature, Bradley groaned seeing you with no pillow or blanket this time. "This is the third time I've had to put you back in the bed. Why the heck do you want to lie on the floor so bad?" He asked, shaking his head. His heart softened as you clung to him, burying your face in his chest as you coughed a little. You were breathing through your mouth as you couldn't breathe through your nose, Jake and Nat secretly took pictures before grabbing the pillow and blanket. "Let's bring shortie to the couch," Bradley said, "She obviously can't be trusted," he joked.

They woke you up an hour later to have you eat and you looked a little more coherent than before. "You guys really don't have to stay and ruin your Friday night, I'll be okay," you said, trying to get up. Bradley kept you down, you tried to fight back but had no energy to, "As much as I want you to rest right now, it's freaking me out that I can hold you down this easily." he said, letting you up suddenly to help you to the kitchen for more food and medication. "You calling me weak, Bradshaw?" you murmured, leaning heavily on him. "Nope, that's why I'm considered. You had more energy when you had broken ribs. I want you better to have the firecracker version of you back," he said.

It was a rough time because your fever kept rising and you seemed to get worse before you got better but the three stuck with you the whole time. They just gave you plenty of soup, tea, and snuggles to keep you resting. After all, you were their little sibling.

Taglist:

@teti-menchon0604

@peaches-and-sunshine

@natasharomanoffisbaebby

@sweetheartlizzie07

@lollypop90907

@the-hottest-lieutenants

@jamiedontbeacracko

@fandomstanner24

@casperlikej

@lyn07

@luckyladycreator2

@spidermankenobi

#top gun #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #phoenix x reader #hangman x reader #rooster x reader #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake seresin #natasha trace x reader #natasha phoenix trace #natasha 'phoenix' trace

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 9.3

The door banged against the shelf, wedged between wall and bookshelf, so it jutted out and got in the way of the door opening.

Avery-at-home chapters are always exhuasting

“Stop looking at porn and let me download my update, Avery!” Declan shouted, fighting with Sheridan now.  Avery only had glimpses. “It’s not porn. Why is that everyone’s go-to? Is it that common a thing?”

I think if Avery's ever going to want to actually watch anything explicit, she'll need to take Verona up on that offer to watch at Verona's house

Sheridan looked down at Declan, who elbowed her in the gut.  “I’m thinking… speaking of blood and violence, I don’t think our parents understand video game rating codes.  That game sure looked violent and bloody.”

hahhaha. get him.

Avery got her phone.  “This is my life now, you know.  Opening strange files from strange men on the internet is pretty minor compared to some other stuff I’m doing.” “It’s so weird you see me as a man. I’m still a teenager in my head.”

still not entirely sure how old Zed is, but I'm thinking eighteen at the oldest

“Is that okay?  It’s not an emergency or anything, but I feel like if we didn’t touch base every once in a while we’d drift apart.  I don’t want that.  I’m trying to hold onto connections.”

being the person who reaches out for regular connection times is an underrated and incredibly valuable trait in a friend

“Isn’t that what we all want?  Isn’t it that we want to make the world better, we care, but we can’t agree on how?”

oh. Avery is really sweet! Actually amazing that she's still holding onto this after *waves vaguely at prior arcs*

"I feel like video calls might not be enough, uh-” “I’m a technomancer, Avery. I can eat, sleep, and breathe in the internet. If you want some tips on getting set up, I can help. With a few tweaks it wouldn’t be much different from face to face. Video calls aren’t an issue for me.” “But there’s no true substitute for real life."

so this was written during the pandemic

“They really need a team player, he said.”

yeah avery speaks this guy's language

“What do we know about the space?  This new Path?” Avery asked. “That it’s crowded,” Zed said. “A lot of Others they’ve seen elsewhere on the Paths are there. He seemed to think that by getting to the right position, they could block the movements of some Others who tend to come out of nowhere and ruin your day.”

might be a good place to look for Miss?

“The time, the expenditure of power, my siblings being annoying.  I’m thirteen and you’re… seventeen?” “Yeah.”

oh thank you for finally clarifying that

“It’s fine.  Don’t sweat it, Avery.  You’re a friend, and even if you’re younger, it feels like… I dunno.  A little bit like I can fill that hole in my heart where my sister belongs…” Avery pressed both hands over her heart. “…and a bit like I can mentor you and maybe help in a way that I would’ve wanted to help when I was your age. Not that our experiences are much alike at all.”

awww

I hurt some friendships along the way. I got desperate to hold onto those identities, I got mean, I got into the moderator politics and manipulated the systems, tried to sabotage people who questioned the lie.

I'm picturing Zed wrapped up in one of those tumblr fake identity scandals a la hivliving

And I was out the door.  Some sarcastic comments to go.”

“Um, geez.  That’s… that’s a nightmare.  What did you even do?”

"And I was out the door. Some sarcastic comments to go.” “Um, geez. That’s… that’s a nightmare. What did you even do?” “Freaked out.  My thoughts got pretty dark for a good while, there.  I’m pretty darn lucky that people at the youth shelter had, uh, very gentle voices.

I wonder if Zed has talked with Nicolette about this? Sounds like they had some similar experiences, though he found a safer way out.

And a few years later, here I am. Found myself, not lying anymore. I’m pretty good at this technomancy stuff. All it took was- was support.”

explains why Zed's so set on helping people out, being that support to other people that he got

“Yeah.  She makes games for these make-a-game-in-12-hours competitions.”

impressive for an eleven year old. I think at that age I was pretty much just playing around with Scratch

“You said something that scared him so badly he’ll want to go on a plane?”

Zed is an excellent friend

Sheridan shrugged.  “I don’t care.  I’m just tickled I got to see the look on Declan’s face.  Outside of that, I don’t give two shits who’s miserable or not.  Except, you know, you whine.  That’s a bit annoying.”

aww, she cares

“Do you think your friend who knows stuff about computers could score me tickets to anywhere that isn’t this shithole town?”

or that

“It’s starting to feel like you were recruited with a siege in mind, as much as anything,” Verona said.

something to think on: what situations are the new Others most useful in? I guess Ken is the only one who was purpose-made for this, rather than happened to be in the area and got recruited. I'm now wondering if any of the new Others were specifically recruited to help when the murderer takes the judge's seat.

Avery pulled on her deer mask, antler broken, and Verona did much the same.

will the broken mask end up impacting her practice? I could see it getting fixed in some symbolic way. Deers grow back antlers every spring, right?

Avery nudged it, careful, then investigated.  She pulled out a knife. “You’ll be loaded to bear by the time we’re done here,” Verona said. “I’ve gone through four hockey sticks, I should have something,” Avery commented.

I feel like she should stick with something with that reach and heft though, since she's already used to wielding it and moving quickly. Maybe a polearm of some sort? Or a hefty longsword. Though the trap in using Maricica's glamour for the charm bracelet might make it harder to transport

“Fernanda asked and I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I’m better at… touching base.  Departures, arrivals, and making contact.  I circle around and I get in touch with people.”

yes! This is what I've been saying! And big props to Avery for finding confidence in an area that isn't athletics. Also, nice job in linking it into her theming.

“You’re nicer, too, so you don’t scare them off when you get in touch.” “Yeah. I wasn’t going to say it, but…”

also what I've been saying

“I kick myself for not stepping in sooner, when Lucy was interrogating Nicolette, or when we got on the wrong side of Yadira.  I played along because I wasn’t sure.  And that ended up hurting us a bit.  I want to do that stuff.”

I've talked before about how Avery's lack of self-confidence can hold the group back, so I'm really glad to see her recognizing that and working on improving. This is a major step forward for her.

“I could do with that city navigation magic.”

oooh that would be neat

#booksandchainmail reads pale #pale #wildbow

[mobiivs]

140720XX

@xinqfu 🍀

sorin’s running off the moment she passes through customs, forgoing the baggage claims—her manager will get that for her, eventually. there’s eighteen hours of a plane ride she’d braved still stuck to her, impatient wave of her hand when she finds the company car waiting. “i’ll tip you extra if you get there in twenty minutes,” are her first words, leaning forward, the unflappable, confident bassist looking just a little more frazzled for once. “it’s really important!”

summer’s packed full with tours, inescapable heat on her back. she misses the lazy summers from forever ago, when all she had to worry about were white dress codes and the startling new discovery of sungho’s... everything. but sorin’ll admit she likes it better now, even though her schedule’s fit to burst and it’s been two years since that beach party and more. she’s never been that much of a romantic, to be honest, but having the literal best boyfriend in world means she’s got to at least make it home in time for their anniversary.

the drive home follows that winding red thread, her leg bouncing impatiently. she worries at her nails, a watchful eye on the clock, hands cradling the little giftbox she’d gotten. red weaves down the road, through the sights of seoul, and there’s a smile she can’t fend off. she’s going to be home.

⚾

they’re sitting face to face, in dead silence. she hasn’t talked to him—not just right now, since she saw him first in the team’s hall, but in months. sorin should’ve known this wouldn’t last, the calm away from the storm when she’d finally sucked it up and left their team, for a second time. the last time, she’d promised herself, that she’d give in to the player.

and months later, because they’re both good at what they do when they’re not trying to ruin each other, sorin and sungho sit in the same room in the olympics village.

the string lies taut and frayed, that last, single fibre connecting them dyed scarlet. “we should meet the rest of the team,” she’d said. “we should,” he’d replied. sorin’s still sitting across from him, arms crossed; he eyes her, and there’s that look she used to think meant something. but she’s got someone who smiles at her with none of the edge, sweet and soft in a way she’s still learning to keep up with. she’d wonder if he’s found someone else too, but sungho probably has half the girls in the village on his phone instead.

she stands up, and team captain’s eyes follow, an arm coming in front of her. it’s all so easy, she thinks, to fall back into this. he still looks at her the same, the thrill that’d drawn her in jumping down her spine. sorin pulls away and lets the string snap between them. today marks the first day of moving on.

👓

sorin sets the cake down in front of him, a smug little raise of her eyebrow. all pleased with herself, even though the lettering is off and the biggest ( and only ) candle is tilted to the left. sungho’s eyebrows shoot up, and she quickly raises her hands. “i only decorated it! i bought the cake. i didn’t bake it, really.” a mock gasp, elbowing him. “you didn’t even get anything, stop looking at me like that—you forgot, didn’t you!”

she’s kidding, laughing over his sputtering, indignant defense—she saw the present sungho tried to bury in the back of his closet, one night when she’d stayed over. a month early, too. she’ll bet she can find one of his posts on reddit and that means her present’s going to be internet-sourced, but she trusts her little nerd. sorin pulls him in, both hands on his cheeks, and plants a kiss square on soft lips.

he’s not the same gangly, awkward nerd he used to be, and she’s no longer the mean girl cheerleader stereotype she’d hung her pride on back in high school. can you believe yoo sungho’s blond, now? probably not as much as lim sorin reading books on string theory to impress a nerd, though. their red thread is the colour of the strawberries around the cake, knotted in places; the loops they’d made around each other and back again, milestones to the fate that links their pinkies together. sorin makes him light the candle and grins at him, and thanks the skies out there for the second chance on their high school romance.

🔪

“i should take a picture,” he’s marveling, and she just knows he’s going to say something smart.

she flicks the wound she just bandaged before he can, hard enough to sting. “shut up,” sorin huffs. the red of their string is bright against bloodied cloths and discoloured iodine, weaving around their wrists. “i’ll leave you to bleed on our doorstep next time,” she warns, has to take a pause when she realises she hadn’t meant my. it’s... been a while since sungho stopped loitering around the ground floor of her apartment, hands shoved in his pockets. the younger guy follows her up now, most days, terrorises the rest of the tenants with his tattoos and scuffed up jackets, his harley rumbling menacingly by the entrance.

the lawyer looks at him, grinning on the couch, and wonders when she got domestic with the boy rough around the edges, cornering her in the office. perhaps, since the day her flimsy morals had folded so easily over his request. “i was just gonna say you’ve gotten better at this,” he says. sorin rolls her eyes at him, teases, “only because i need to keep my boyfriend from dying on my couch,” and immediately spots the flaw in her premise, the keyword not even second guessed. a hand slaps over sungho’s mouth, his eyes smirking knowingly at her. red bridges between them as she points with her free hand. “don’t you dare,” she warns, but sorin’s laughing despite herself and, well, it wasn’t anything they didn’t know already.

🪙

she knows she’s picking at it, unravelling the thread that binds them together, like if she pulls at the loose ends hard enough, it won’t just fall apart. looking out from her glass walls to where sungho’s sitting, neutrality strained on his face while she meets yet another chaebol son, smiling the way weak men who think they’re powerful do.

“just a moment,” she says, standing up. outside, she sees her secretary do the same, brief relief on his face. her hips sway as she exits the glass door, stopping in front of his desk. sorin places a hand on the warm wood, head tilted up to look at him, in full view of her prospective blind date. the muscle in his cheek jumps, understanding and resignation setting in. “c’mon, save me, he’s boring,” she says, and sungho doesn’t move. can’t, really, before she does.

she kisses him, lips coated with something glossy and saccharine, like overripe peaches sitting out for too long on a summer afternoon. sticky sweet and soon to spoil, on his. something gets thrown, audibly, in the office behind her, a door slamming closed soon after. his arms around her don’t let her turn away; sorin presses a hand against his chest and pulls away, doesn’t let the daze distract from the point of this. “is he gone?” she asks, and the other looks up, nods briefly.

“good,” sorin says, “you’re mine.” an assurance, empty—she leaves the second half unsaid, even though she can see the thread wrapped around his neck, and still she drags him down and tightens it herself.

📷

“should we film something for our anniversary?”

sorin tilts her head back, crown of her head meeting his thigh where she’s draped across his lap. she’s scrolling through her feed; he’s editing her newest video. red string hang loose between them, comfortable and unseen. “mm,” is his reply, focused on the task. she sighs and reaches up, running her hands through his hair to get his attention. “your roots are growing out again,” she complains, “we should find another colour you look hot in that doesn’t stain my hands purple every two weeks.”

there’s a huff of laughter above her, sungho looking down. “you like it, though,” he teases, and well. she’s got no comeback for that. sorin shrugs her shoulders. it’s a bigger feat than you’d think, while lying down and avoiding dropping her phone on her face. “let’s keep our anniversary for ourselves,” sungho adds, wraps her like a strand around his finger and pulls her in, wry smile on his face. “just us, no one else.”

she lets herself be pulled closer, snuggling up to watch him touch up the footage they’d filmed earlier. “okay,” sorin grins, “the internet thinks it’s on, like, whenever that last episode of inferno aired anyway.” she laces their fingers together, intangible crimson link disappearing somewhere between their held hands. it’s their little secret, hidden from view.

🎾

the red of their strings are dyed darker, reaching across the tennis court. they’re still the star players, even if they’re not partners on mixed doubles anymore.

“good game,” he says, jogging up to her, and sorin scowls a little at him. “we’re still getting used to working together,” she defends herself, because it sucks to be on the losing side, across from sungho instead of beside him. “since you, y’know, left and all that.” sungho’s graduated and gone, even though he visits the team once in a while, and now there’s that undeniable distance between them, as certain and tangible as the net in front of her. it feels unfair, somehow, the double fault that they’ve fumbled completely, serves and signs missed because they were just a beat too slow. now he’s someone else’s.

but she still thinks of him as hers, first. “it’s fine, we’ll play another round and keep the nets later,” sungho calls to the rest of the members, waves off the clean up with an arm slung over her shoulders, skin warm against hers. like they’re still best friends and partners, the contact innocent and friendly and casual, the sort that mean nothing until everyone else is gone. sorin knows she’s going to regret this. but he kisses her like he still wants her, and at least the regret tastes a little like victory.

🎞️

there’s music booming, the reverb of something bass while the rest of the set cleans up, stylists carefully peeling her out of the last expensive, horribly branded outfit she’s paid to make look good. sungho’s by the monitor, going through the photographs; there’s that focus on the screen that she’d seen develop as their careers started rising, an inexplicable flutter to know it’s her he’s looking at now, even though their best pictorials have always been together.

sorin hops out of the makeshift stall, dressed down and comfortable, and she’s caught up to him before she can think. she’ll blame it on the fact that she hasn’t seen him in a while—haven’t been booked together, as that set they used to come as. it’s spite that drives their synergy today, annoyance over the rumours of a slump in their partnership she’s determined to prove wrong. the rumours were wrong, anyway, crisp lines on the samples on the screen, the splash she knows this one’s going to make.

sungho glances at her, the sort of grin when they’ve pulled off a concept, and something tugs at her. “wanna grab a bite?” she asks, entirely on impulse and that vague, ever-present sense of missing him. there’s a pause, point two seconds too long, sandwiched between sungho’s surprised expression and no answer. oh god, she’s made a fool of herself.

she turns on her heel and flees the room, embarrassed; sorin doesn’t see the relieved laugh he lets out, picking up the red thread that’s spooled out and following it back to her.

🕸️

the tear in the fabric of the spacetime continuum seals itself shut at the tip of sorin’s index finger, pointing at nothing. “wait, was that us?” red strings crisscross unseen, a multiverse of possibilities, and the constant that ties them together shining in between. sungho blinks from where he’s seated at the console, his code done executing. they’d just been looking for an alternative design to the webslinger they’ve got now, and yes, taking a peek at the multiverse is kind of cheating, but if you figured out the formula in advanced physics... it’s fair game, really.

“so... no webslinger designs there...” she fixes him with a look that says duh, because that universe’s sorin is definitely missing the spidey sense if she didn’t notice two college kids gawking at her while she ‘made out’ ( censored for the pg-13 movies ) with the sungho of that other universe... uh huh. sorin of this universe might have bigger problems than faulty webslingers right now.

“hey, the us in that universe, were we...” “... yeah.” “huh.” ”...” “wanna try it too?”

❤️

sorin rushes into his arms and laughs, gives him a kiss that’s far deeper than it ought to be, airplane breath and their door still ajar. the thread tied between the two of them is barely a centimeter long, their hands interlocking as he pulls her in for another kiss. sungho smells a little like the hospital mixed with the candle she’d bought on a whim, hugging her tightly. “missed you, baby,” he says, kisses the crown of her head and moves to take her luggage in, sorin still clinging to him. home feels like a forever, ticking off the years. there’s no other way to describe it, the surety of the two of them after the rollercoaster to get here, red wrapped around their pinkies. fate, choice, and love, everything in between.

“i made it in time, right? happy anniversary!”

#discovering new sungso aus while doing sungso research in our chat was a Trip #happy sungso day hehe enjoy ✌🏻

[cruciv3rbalist]

@nightmarefuele

One thing the internet has is closed systems. I call them self-sealing systems. The sort of clever, but dangerous aspect of the online communities from the way the algorithms work. You click on something, something else pops out and you click on that, and before you know it, you’re barreling down a deeply personal rabbit hole. You’re lost in a world of like-minded thinkers, seeking these paths without having the time to think about it. You think critical thinking shuts down and you’re going along with the crowd. But we are all critical thinkers here. We won’t cancel Bruce Wayne, oh no, we love him, for now.

Fri July 16

It keeps turning July 16. The day I realized. WHY. The Renewal fund wasn’t what it was supposed to be. There were so many reasons for me to get incarcerated. So many times I thought I was the wrong, jaded, hurt one lashing back at society. But then I realized I was looking at this crazy kaleidoscope the wrong way. Suddenly all the pieces fit and everything made sense. I wasn’t the only one who was jaded. Everyone was, at the rats of Gotham.

So I’ve got to say hi. To gleam a pale, unmasked face at the product of a Sinner, the Thomas Wayne. Someone the streets thought was untouchable, till this dull, uninspiring, depressing day.

He crashes into Bruce from behind, like he’s tripped into him from being in a hurry.

He isn’t surprised the butler’s pissed. Clad in a half three-piece suit, he’d jumped from the driver’s seat over to Bruce’s elbow.

Nashton cringes on the inside. From glee. It’s like a slap to his slightly rosy cheeks.

‘  Oh my god.  ‘   His voice is as deep as the ocean goes. Close your eyes and you’ll lose yourself. He wipes Bruce’s elbow down with paper napkins. All the stickiness of his ice cream sticks to it anyway.

‘  I’m sorry for ruining your suit.  ‘  He waves, folded waffles in his hand.  ‘  My favourite place. Hey, if you aren’t in a rush, you wanna grab some?  ‘

#nightmarefuele #for your nice 2022 bat #dc rp #dceu rp #indie rp #mcu rp

[hangovercurse]

Nerd Love

After years of working together, Pete still manages to break you.

Request: “Hi! Can I get a Pete imagine where you guys work on SNL together and you have few skits together and during one of them you can’t stop laughing”

Pete Davidson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2237

“Live from New York, it’s Saturday night!” You hear Kate and the host of the week announce before Lorne motions that the cameras had cut for commercial break. You and Pete had a sketch together in exactly 12 minutes and 45 seconds, and you were trying to cool your nerves.

You loved your job, writing on SNL was something you had dreamed of since you were in middle school, and now it was your reality. Of course, it was hard, the hours were long and the work was demanding. But having Pete by your side made it all bearable.

You had met on your first day, getting hired one season after him. You two were deemed the “babies” of the cast because you were the youngest, so naturally you got paired up. A lot.

At first it bothered you that you only really ever worked with one person, but after your first few episodes you grew to love Pete. Your energies matched so well, and whenever you wrote together you easily built of each other.

After 6 years of working on the show together, you had become really close friends. You were with him through all of his hard times, and you were one of the few people he let visit him in rehab. In return, he stuck by your side through everything, even when the internet tried to cancel you for an interview that was taken completely out of context.

You couldn’t pinpoint when, but at some point, you had developed real feelings for him. Obviously, you’d never tell him, not wanting to mess up your amazing friendship. But they still flourished, especially when you would be up until 6 am writing sketches and goofing around in the writer’s room. Of course, the comments from fans didn’t help your feelings either. They loved you guys. Anytime you posted Pete on your social media, they were all over it.

But you guys had denied the dating rumors countless times since they’d started 5 years ago. Even though having to hear the words “we’re just friends” over and over killed you.

You were lost in thought when Pete came up behind you, hands grabbing your shoulders and shaking you slightly. “Ready bookworm?” He asked, moving to stand next to you.

“Only if you are, Mr. jock-man.” You laughed, rolling your eyes.

The sketch you and Pete had written was a young couple on a really fancy date to celebrate their 6-month anniversary. Your character was going on the date with Kyle Mooney’s character. Both of you were the stereotypical nerd couple with glasses, suspenders, and everything else. Pete was playing your waiter, who obviously did not give a shit about his job. He was the stereotypical jock character. Your character was super attracted to him and kept paying attention to him. He loved the attention and would do things like show you his (reaaaallllyyy) lame tattoos, tell you about sports, and everything that nerds don’t like. Kyle obviously didn’t like that and kept trying to get your attention in the weirdest of ways.

It was pretty funny in rehearsals, almost too funny. Seeing Pete act so out of character was hilarious to you and having to overdramatically flirt with him felt ridiculous. You barely made it through in rehearsals without laughing, so you had to hope you could do it on stage.

“Y/N, Pete, and Kyle. You’re up.” The stagehand told you, and you grabbed Kyle’s hand, walking to the stage.

The sketch started and you were doing okay. You and Kyle had your conversation about your anniversary and your favorite Star Wars movies. But then Pete walked onto the stage in his ridiculous waiter getup. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the top and wrinkled, his black pants hanging low on his hips, and his apron only half tied. You bit your tongue to keep yourself together.

“Welcome to White Oyster, what do you want?” He said in a very bored voice. You acted interested, eyes raking up and down him. You felt ridiculous and had to swallow a laugh.

Kyle pushed his glasses up on his nose, “me and my girlfriend are here for our six-month anniversary, so we would like the couple’s special.” His nerd voice was incredible.

“Okay. Anything else?” Pete’s voice remained monotone.

You bit your lip, “do you recommend anything else?” You asked, trying to sound nerd-sexy.

You could see Pete struggling to contain a smile. “I mean, whatever. Food here is shitty anyways.”

Kyle’s mouth gaped, “can you not speak like that around my girlfriend, please?”

The sketch continued with you making flirty remarks towards Pete, him being very bored and unaware, and Kyle trying to direct your attention. After your second attempt at flirting with him, you could feel yourself breaking down.

“So, I was wondering. Do you have any tattoos?” You asked him, your elbow on the table, twirling a piece of your hair in your finger.

Pete nodded, pulling up his shirt to show the big MOM tattoo on his side that was drawn on earlier. You felt a giggle slip out, completely out of character.

You tried to cover it up and continue, “wow, you really must love your mom, huh?” Another chuckle leaving your mouth, “that’s kinda hot.”

Kyle looked at you with wide eyes, “Linda!” He screamed the name of your character

Pete shrugged, “Nah, I did it myself. It says WOW, like world of warcraft.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell out of your mouth, and one followed from Pete. This was a disaster. You tried to regain your composure, knowing Kyle was probably really frustrated right now. “I just think tattoos are so cool. You don’t have any, do you Darren?” You asked Kyle’s character, eyes narrowing at him. You heard a chuckle from Pete beside you and you bit your cheek.

Kyle faked looking flustered, “N-no. But I have all 7 of the Harry Potter books and 4 collectors wands.”

Pete nodded, “Oh cool, I have a Harry Potter tattoo.” He pulled up his arm to show his real tattoo.

Your eyes went wide, “Wow. That’s way cooler.” You batted your eyes up at Pete, making him break even more. Watching his face go red and his mouth lifting up with laughter made you squeeze your eyes to hide your laughter.

“But babe!” Kyle was starting to break now too. “You love my Harry Potter stuff!”

“It’s cool, I guess.”

The sketch continued with you and Pete laughing anytime you looked at each other, your energies feeding into one another. You both tried really hard to keep it together, but something about flirting with Pete made you so giddy inside that you couldn’t help it.

Eventually the scene ended and the lights went down. You knew the cameras probably caught an extra few seconds after the close of the sketch, meaning they caught you and Pete breaking down into fits of laughter.

You somehow made it offstage, faces red. “We’re so gonna get fired.” He said through giggles.

“I’m so sorry,” You started, trying to take breaths through your laughs. “I don’t know why I couldn’t hold it together.”

“You looked ridiculous.” Pete laughed, pointing at your glasses.

 After the show you made your way back to your dressing room, changing into your day clothes and getting ready to leave. You finally checked your phone, which had been off the duration of the show.

Your twitter feed was filled with clips of you and Pete laughing through the sketch.

They’re so cute together #goals

Love their friendship

Get you someone who looks at you like Pete looks at Y/N

Poor Kyle ☹

The way they can’t get through a skit because they’re too in love

And they say they aren’t dating…

Can’t believe the unprofessionalism

Pete and Y/N are dating… no one can convince me otherwise

The flirting!!! The looks!!!

I would like Pete and Y/N to get married and adopt me please

Your heart melted at all the comments, a sigh leaving your mouth. You watched the video and noticed the way he looked at you anytime you broke character, it was the same way you looked at him all the time.

You shook your head, convincing yourself you were imagining it. You couldn’t afford to think like that, it would ruin your friendship.

A knock at your door pulled you out of your thoughts, “Y/N, wanna go grab a drink with me?” It was Pete.

“You can come in.” You called, and he did so. “I don’t know, I was thinking I might just go home. I’m pretty tired.” You really just wanted to go home and sort through your feelings for the umpteenth time that month.

He nodded, watching as you tossed various items in your bag, “you were great tonight.”

You giggled, “Pete I barely made it through our sketch, it was a disaster.”

He rolled his eyes, walking over to where you were at your vanity. “I messed up too, but it was fine. No one noticed.”

You leaned into the mirror, fixing your makeup slightly. Pete was very close to you, watching you through said mirror. “Trust me, Petey. Everyone noticed.” You laughed, standing up straight again.

Your back was inches from his chest, and you could suddenly feel a different sort of tension in the air. But you didn’t make any move to shift away from him. He gave you a quizzical look through the mirror and you took out your phone, turning to him.

You took in a breath at the proximity. You weren’t close enough to kiss or anything, but his chest was only a few inches away from you. You shook away the thoughts you were having and opened your twitter, letting him scroll through the tweets. He chuckled and shook his head as he read them, eventually handing you your phone back.

“People really like us together.” He said, smiling.

You rolled your eyes, “They have for the past like, 6 years, Petey. We’re funny.” You smiled moving to turn back to grab your bag, but his hand grabbed your hip and made you stay facing him.

Your mind went blank at his touch, trying to figure out if this was real or if you were just really really tired. “That’s not what I meant.” He said, quieter.

You laughed, looking away from his eyes, not really knowing what to say. “I mean, people have always thought… stuff like that.” You mumbled, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Pete’s eyes were searching your face, taking in every detail. “Have you ever thought about, like, why people think we’re…” He trailed off, but you knew what he was implying.

You blushed, looking down at your toes. “I mean, I guess we’re together a lot and we get on well. People just like to make assumptions, I guess.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure it doesn’t help that I can never keep my eyes off of you, even when the cameras are rolling.” He said, a chuckle following.

You smiled, looking back up at him, your brain trying to process what he just said. After a few moments of silence, you spit out a “why are you bringing this up?” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper.

He sighed, hand moving from your hip and rubbing his face lightly. “I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking a lot.” You gave him a look that told him to continue. “I mean, I think it’s kind of obvious that I like you.”

Your mouth dropped, “obvious? Pete Davidson you have been far from obvious about your feelings.” You really thought you were dreaming, hearing those words from him was just impossible.

“Are you kidding me? How many sketches do I have to write just so I can flirt with you? Have you not picked up on the fact that literally every sketch I write for you to be in we’re playing some sort of couple?” He laughed, stepping towards you, and grabbing your hips again. “Dude, and I thought I was oblivious to this shit.”

“In my defense I’ve spent the past like 6 years trying to convince myself you didn’t feel the same way.” You said, a smile crossing your face.

Pete rolled his eyes, leaning closer to you, “now why would you wanna do that?” There was a playful tone in his voice, but you couldn’t help your serious answer.

“Because I didn’t wanna read the signs wrong and mess up our friendship.” You sighed.

Pete’s smile softened, “Y/N I literally want to kill you right now for making me wait this long.” You giggled, leaning closer to him. “But you’re cute so I guess I can let it slide.”

“If I kiss you will it make up for it?” You asked, batting your eyelashes.

Pete pretended to think about it, “hmmm, maybe. You should definitely give it a shot to see.”

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you. Your lips touched his and it was like everything in the universe suddenly aligned. His mouth moved against yours in soft, perfect motions. His hands pulled you closer into him, your bodies molding together like it was meant to be.

When you finally pulled away for breath, he pressed his forehead against yours, a wide grin on his face. “So, about those drinks?”

#pete davidson #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson fluff

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Cabin in the Woods [18+]

Jackson Neill x Female Reader

For @storiesofsvu​’s Fall Bingo! Requested by @resparza​​! 

Summary: You and Jackson take a trip to New England that goes slightly awry.

Warnings: NSFW, nipple play, fingering, praise, slow gentle sex until the end when it gets a lil rough. Fluffy fluff & the tiniest bit of angst (so Jackson can reassure you). Trans male version here

3,350 words

Jackson made a tiny mistake with the timing. He booked your leaf-peeping getaway for mid-October, when the leaves in the city were just beginning to turn.

When you arrived at your cozy Airbnb in the mountains of Vermont, you were greeted by the awe-inspiring sight of… sticks.

“Goddammit. I forgot how geography works,” Jackson griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d been in a sour mood for most of the drive up I-91 when the scenery started to look distinctly more ashen than orange halfway through Massachusetts.

“It’s like we time-traveled two weeks into the future,” you marveled at the bare tree branches rattling in a chilly breeze. Your rustic cedar-shingle cabin was surrounded by forest and at the end of a long dirt driveway. Even without the screen of leaves, you couldn’t see any neighbors.

“So much for leaf-peeping. There are no leaves.”

You picked up a bright red maple leaf from the driveway. “Found one!”

He chuckled at your enthusiasm and shook his head. “If I made our reservation a week earlier, the foliage would be, you know, in trees.”

“Found another!” you pointed at the colorful ground, grinning. “There’s another!” You picked each one up and tossed them at him like confetti.

“Alright!” he groaned, curling his elbow about your neck like a shepherd’s crook to wrangle you in. “I see you refuse to have a miserable time. Won’t even wallow with me for two seconds?”

“I think it’s pretty.” You turned in his arm and kissed him.

The tip of your nose was cold, but your lips were warm as he kissed you back and tried to look on the bright side. Just because things weren’t going to plan didn’t mean he had to relapse into his ingrained Catholic guilt.

***

Since the publication of his book, Meyerism: A New American Religion, Jackson Neill had been receiving threats from the eponymous cult that had him on edge. Not only was he afraid for himself—he wasn’t so macho to pretend otherwise—but he worried about you or his kids getting caught in the crossfire. The deeper he dug into the Meyerist Movement, the more he was convinced they were capable of anything.

This vacation was supposed to be a way to leave all that behind for a weekend, but stress clung to him like spiderwebs.

At least the weather was cooperative. Friday afternoon was clear and sunny—just the right temperature to sit out on the porch with a hot cup of cider. After unpacking, you settled down with Jackson on Adirondack chairs and listened to the sounds of nature as the fading sun slanted orange and red through the forest.

Pops of bright color still stood out amid the dull grey-brown landscape like flames—late trees that had waited for your arrival to change.

“You’re right: it is pretty,” Jackson conceded, your hand nested in his. Your fingertips were getting cold, so he held them to his lips and blew on them.

Tomorrow, you’d go on a nice hike with a beautiful view of the snow-capped Green Mountains. The trip wasn’t a total waste, Jackson thought. He tried to relax.

***

The next morning, you awoke to the pounding of rain on the roof and Jackson pacing downstairs in the living room. The entire cabin creaked and groaned with the force of the wind, and you quickly pulled on a sweater and wool socks before padding down the stairs.

Jackson was tapping at his phone, muttering under his breath, before finally tossing the useless device on the couch with a dry laugh. His apparent crankiness couldn’t have been that bad, though—he’d gotten up early to light about a hundred votive candles, filling the dim living room with flickering golden light. He must have been planning something romantic.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“No signal out here in God’s country,” Jackson rolled his eyes at a wooden cross decorating a door frame, which had not been visible in the listing photographs.

“Isn’t there Wi-Fi?”

Jackson stared at you with lips so thin they vanished into a fine line, and eyes that looked ready to shatter like exploding light bulbs at any moment. “Storm knocked out the power.”

Oh. That was why he lit candles.

“And our hike is canceled, unless you want to go out in that.” A freezing mix of rain and sleet rattled the window panes.

It was easy to let another person’s bad mood get you down, but you tried to stay positive. He’d been so tense lately, he needed support. You both needed this vacation to go well. “That’s OK. We can stay in and get cozy with the fireplace.”

“You would think so,” he gave a humorless chuckle, shaking your arm off to sulk into the open-plan kitchen. “The listing said breakfast was included, but the refrigerator is empty. We’ve got… toast.”

“Maybe we can drive into town? Find one of those quaint little bakeries.”

“Out into the cold,” he sighed. “And we don’t have internet to look a place up. No wonder the host thinks they can get away with starving us—I can’t even call to complain!”

The wall of positivity you’d constructed groaned and cracked, and the anxiety it held back began to stream through. You sank down onto the couch.

Oblivious, Jackson hunted through the charmingly rustic (and empty) cabinets with an increasingly frustrated frown. “This trip is a disaster.” The words stung as surely as if he called you a disaster.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” He turned. Your voice was so quiet he barely heard you say anything.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated so he would hear, lower lip trembling with the effort.

It took him three strides to cross the entire cabin, and he was on top of you, kneeling in front of the couch, stroking your face. “Hey, no, no… What are you talking about?” His green eyes were soft as the hay fields you’d passed yesterday as they searched yours.

“It was my idea to come here,” you sniffed.

“I know.” His head tilted, and frown lines creased his forehead. “I wanted this weekend to be perfect for you, and I can’t get anything right. I don’t know why you’re sorry. This is my fault.”

“But it’s my fault you’re miserable. I thought getting away from the city would be relaxing. I wanted some alone time with you. But you’re not having any fun. I just don’t want you to be upset…”

Something changed in his eyes.

“I… I’m not upset.” His thumb gently stroked your cheek. “I’m not upset at all—not at you. Maybe at myself. Fine, entirely at myself. This was your trip, and I fucked it up. I hate disappointing you.”

A hint of a smile crept back into your face. You covered his hand with your own and turned into it to kiss his palm. “Jax, you could never disappoint me. All I wanted out of this trip was to spend time with you. So long as we’re together, I’m happy.”

“You don’t look happy.” A flicker of a self-deprecating smirk. “Guess I ruined things by being a grouch, huh?”

Your face once again threatened a smile. “No…”

“Yes. I’m a big mean grouch. Come on, you can tell me off,” he grinned, leaning close to your neck and purring his words against your earlobe. “Punish me. Throw a handful of sleet down my shirt. Push me into a pile of wet leaves.”

“Nooo!” you squirmed beneath him, fighting a laugh as he invented tortures for himself and kissed them into your skin.

“Come on, I deserve it.” He pulled back, and a smile broke across his face like dawn to see how your eyes had brightened.

“Alright, alright. Maybe just a little sleet.”

“From now on”—he pressed his lips against your neck again and sucked lightly at the beat of your pulse point—“I promise”—he nibbled his way over your jaw—“to appreciate every moment of our vacation”—his lips ghosted against yours—“and make sure you feel good.”

You pulled him down onto the couch with you, falling back onto the cushions as his lips melted with yours and his tongue hunted for a moan inside your mouth. He found one, long, slow, and tortured as you tasted the raw heat of his apology.

“Mmm,” you hummed as if a chocolate truffle were melting on your tongue. “You want to make me feel good?”

“Yes,” he sighed back, lips moving against your cheek and his hips lazily grinding against your thigh.

“I have a few ideas about how you could do that…”

“So do I.”

His long fingers slid down your stomach and slipped beneath the waistband of your flannel pajama pants. You drew a sharp breath as his pads grazed the top of your slit, and he paused, looking to you with lust-blown eyes for permission to continue. Sucking your lower lip between your teeth, you angled your pelvis to move his fingers onto the aching bud of flesh that sent hot shivers out beneath your skin at the contact.

“Seems we’re on the same page, Dr. Neill,” you whispered, and captured his lips again.

Moaning into the kiss with a dark, gravelly rumble, Jackson let his fingers venture deeper into your folds. You weren’t drenched for him yet. Moments ago, you had been on the verge of crying, and he still had to reassure your body that it was wonderful and loved—but he was a patient man and enjoyed taking his time. Each breath and sigh was a signal he attended like a rapt student in the front row of the classroom, his own pleasure coursing through his veins as he played with your pussylips and brought out your trust and desire.

“Shirt off.”

Nodding, you peeled the hem up over your stomach, and he sat up to help you wriggle it off over your shoulders. While he was at it, he pulled off your pajama bottoms and stripped to his boxers.

“Hey, I’m cold,” you whined, pouting as goosebumps began to prickle over your naked arms.

He pulled the fleece blanket off the back of the couch and covered you both with it. “I’ll keep you warm, querida,” he purred as he lowered himself over you.

A hot flush spread over your skin. You loved when he spoke Spanish—sweetly, with the vocabulary of a 1950s telenovela, and full of diminutives the way his mother used to speak it to him as a child. A well-placed querida or cielito could send shivers up your spine. It was nothing compared to the back-arching jolt a moment later when his tongue teased your nipple.

You cried out, fingers curling sharply into his hair as if his tongue carried an electric charge, unsure if you were trying to push him off or pull him closer and make sure he never stopped. As he gently sucked and your sensitive flesh pebbled into a stiff peak beneath his circling tongue, you were leaning toward the latter. Head thrown back, you gasped out his name, begging for more.

He worshiped your chest, eyes flicking up to meet yours with a playful, attentive expression, but he didn’t give you more, no matter how you clawed at the back of his scalp. His tongue worked in gentle, leisurely circles, tracing one fully before moving on to give attention to the other.

Fingers delving back between your thighs, he found your clit swollen and throbbing. You let out a startled, sobbing moan as he stroked it, your back arching, clinging to his head almost painfully tight to brace against the overwhelming sensation. If he kept touching your two most sensitive areas at the same time, you were going to come fast.

“Easy…” he soothed, sensing your agitated level of arousal. “I want to make this last. Can you be good for me and wait?”

Whimpering, you nodded and loosened your tight grip.

“Yes, Dr. Neill.”

“Good girl.”

As he languidly serviced your nipples, he dragged his fingers lower, through your folds. It still made your skin prickle with wanting, but without direct contact with your clit, you wouldn’t come as fast.

When he found your entrance with the pad of a finger, it was slick enough to press inside without resistance. You let out a delicious, tortured moan as the long digit penetrated your tight walls, opening them a little at a time.

“Fuck, you’re so warm. So wet. That’s my good girl.” He lifted his face from your chest to kiss you in praise.

Your hips writhed to push the finger deeper as you kissed him back. He was hungry to reconnect with you—to go slowly and spend as much time as he could sharing pleasure with your naked body—but you were starving. You might explode if he didn’t fuck you.

He moaned softly as your wetness swallowed more of his finger. “Feels like you’re sucking it. Trying to pull me in. You must want more.”

“Yes… please,” you whined, your hands gripping at his broad shoulders.

A second finger stretched your entrance, and he began slowly fucking you with both.

“Oh, fuck. More! Harder,” you moaned.

“You sound so desperate,” he observed casually. “Like one of my students trying to cram for a test.” Heavy-lidded bedroom eyes betrayed his desire, but he wore a cheeky grin and did not increase his pace.

Wet sounds of flesh filled the cabin, so slow it was torture. “Please, Jackson… please let me come. Please…” you begged, but he just kept watching you studiously, worshipfully, as he fingered you slowly. Enough to keep you begging, but not enough to let you finish.

He was straddling one of your legs, and his cock pressed rock-hard into your thigh. Every so often, you would feel it twitch, usually when his fingers massaged a sensitive spot inside that made you give a satisfying noise, and he could feel your pussy gripping around him. Then he would murmur, “You’re so beautiful. Fuck, you feel so good.”

Only when you were a drooling, trembling mess that could barely string two intelligible words together did he start to actively roll his hips, rubbing his erection against your leg.

“Do you want more?”

“Y-yes,” you sobbed.

He sat back on his haunches, and you wailed as his fingers slipped from your yearning wetness, leaving you so empty. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked softly, so tenderly that “fuck” sounded like the most romantic, poetic word in the English language.

“I love you,” you replied, which wasn’t technically a yes, but made Jackson’s breath catch suddenly in his throat.

“I love you, too, mi corazón.” He tugged the elastic waistband of his boxers down over his straining cock, and, taking it in his hand, notched its thick head against your entrance. His forehead rested against yours as he demanded huskily, “Now tell me you want me inside you.”

You gasped. He was so big and blunt against your tight pussy, you almost didn’t think he could fit. But you knew he could—and you knew that was why he always warmed you up so gradually, so agonizingly, so he would never hurt you. With the crown of his cock stretching your opening, the temptation of being filled by him was so close that an unbearable ache drowned out every other thought.

“I want you, Jackson. I need you.”

A thrill rushed through you as his walls came crashing down. His hips canted forward, and a pleasurable burn filled your depths as his cock stretched you open farther than seemed possible—and you watched his mind empty in that moment. All the stress and worry were gone. Nothing was on his mind but you and how good you felt wrapped around him. Nothing existed for you but him between your legs and the ragged sound of his breathing.

As if to seamlessly replace his fingers with his cock, he set the same languid pace. At first, the difference in girth was enough to make it infinitely more intense. Relief cascaded through you as your pleasure finally began to build toward a finale, heat pooling in your lower body with every thrust. Dipping his head, Jackson found a hardened nipple and sucked it until you were babbling incoherently, hips jerking to add to the depth and friction he was giving you.

“H-harder,” you whispered, and this time, he didn’t tease you.

Your pussy coated his cock with so much cream, he knew you could take all of him. Knew you were ready to snap, and so was he—so his hips pounded faster, thighs slapping your skin, heavy balls swinging against your ass.

“Yes… yes… yes…” he breathed rhythmically, chasing his climax as your arousal coated his cock and slicked your thighs.

“More,” you rasped, though your fingernails were already digging red crescents into his back, the stretch almost too much. He needed a stress release, and you wanted to be his outlet. “Let yourself go.”

A final barrier broke inside him, and he took you so quickly, it was more like jerking himself off with your body than making love. Nothing went through his mind but seeking his own release. For a moment, Even you vanished, and there was nothing but his cock surrounded and gripped by unbelievable warmth. You cried out in pleasure at the new depths he struck with reckless abandon.

His hips stuttered. “Fuck!” he gasped, fingers gripping the couch cushion as his hot seed painted your inner walls.

He panted, going still. After a few moments of catching his breath, cock twitching the remainder of its contents into you, he wiped the sheen of sweat off his brow and opened his eyes.

“You didn’t come, did you?” He gave a sheepish sigh.

“It’s OK. Sometimes it takes me too long… It was fun anyway.”

“Stop that. Whoever gave you those excuses is a fucking idiot.”

Keeping himself sheathed inside you, he reached between your bodies to stroke your clit. You gasped out, finding your body responded quickly with waves of molten heat exploding between your thighs. You were still close to finishing.

Jackson circled his hips, using his spent, tender cock while it was still hard. Though each movement was overstimulating and made his body cry out to stop, he savored the way you responded to the pressure: your eyes squeezing closed, your breath growing shallow. He lowered his mouth to your chest again, stroking your clit faster as he flicked his tongue and rocked his hips in shallow thrusts. Your moans built, louder and more strained, back arching beneath him until finally, you came, walls crashing around him, convulsing and releasing, then clenching down again as your whole body shuddered with wave after wave of ecstasy.

Jackson’s mouth popped off the bud of your nipple as a pained moan tore from his throat. His exhausted cock suffered as your pussy involuntarily tried to milk another orgasm from it, but there was a smile on his lips. A breathy laugh.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re perfect.”

You lay together for a while under the blanket. Even after you’d recovered, your shared body heat was incentive enough not to want to get up yet. The storm outside didn’t relent, and despite the warm light of a hundred flickering candles, the air inside the cabin was chilly. Soon, you would start up the fire in the rustic stone hearth, and you could stay cozy inside all day roasting marshmallows and reading books or playing board games. After a brief trip into town for supplies, that is. Besides, you would have to brave the storm to make good on your promise to slip some ice down his shirt.

For now, Jackson’s face was buried contentedly in the curve of your neck, hot puffs of breath tickling your skin. You held him in your arms, combing your fingers through his hair.

“So,” you murmured. “Enjoying our vacation yet?”

You felt him smile. “It’s everything I needed.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box​ / @katierpblogg​ / @worldofvixen​ / @sassyada​ / @detectivebarba​

#Jackson Neill x Reader

[sanderssideswriting]

ship: prinxiety, background intrulogical

genre: fluff

warnings: swearing, like one sexual innuendo, very breif mention of murder (as a joke, this is fluff after all) 

summary: Radio AU where Virgil runs the 11-1 am radio on his college and every night someone calls to complain about his music selections and request disney, and Virgil never plays disney.

Virgil sat in his swivel chair and put on the headphones “sup bitches I’m back and this time with like three monsters because finals are a bitch and sleep can suck my dick. The first song of the night is Lotta True Crime by Peneople Scott. Why? Because I say it is that’s why.” Virgil put the song on and worked on his final project as the songs played.

The phone rang and Virgil groaned and checked the number. This dick again. He picked up and put it on air since people seemed to love listening to him and disney guy argue. 

“listen asshole if you want to listen to Disney so fucking badly then apply for a spot and stop calling me.”

there’s a laugh “how about you just play some disney then? if you do I’ll stop calling. Because your music taste sucks.”

Virgil rolls his eyes “bitch apply for an opening and have a disney hour. And let me listen to my music, because not everyone loves fucking disney.” 

“Well many people do so why not play one song.”

Virgil snorts “first no, and second if I had to I’d make everyone regret it and play let it go.”

“Let it go is great!”

“bye bye Princey, stop calling”

Virgil hung up “and since Princey called you know what we’re playing? MCR because I know he hates it. So this one’s for you princey, up next after this ad because this place needs money. By the way if you’re not a broke bitch donate because this job is like kinda decent and I like making you all listen to the music I like. Blood by MCR is up next” Virgil played the ad and leaned back in his chair.

��Why do you take his calls if you know he’ll just be annoying?” Janus asks in class.

Virgil shrugs “since it started I get more listeners which is good for the station.”

“I think it’s funny, cause you two have cute pet names for each other, princey and emo nightmare” Remus says.

Virgil elbows him “they’re not pet names.”

“they are,” Janus says, moving so Virgil couldn’t elbow him.

Roman waits to dial the number, he had to admit he sort of enjoyed his and emo nightmare’s conversations, who refused to reveal his name or grade.

At first they’d been annoying and he’d genuinely complained about all the emo music and asking to play disney but it’d soon become a nightly ritual, that had very quickly ruined Roman’s sleep schedule.

He dialed the number “seriously, why all the emo music, emo nightmare?”

“you just answered your own question princey, why the obsession with disney songs princey? See? Sounds fucking stupid.”

Roman sighs dramatically “you wound me emo nightmare. But seriously what’ll it take to get you to play ONE disney song?”

“a hundred grand, that’s how much the station needs to keep running, do that and I’ll play ONE disney song.”

“four.”

“Three songs and a hundred and fifty grand, fifty grand per song. final offer. and I get to pick the songs.’

Roman nods “deal,”

“oh and, you have until the end of finals to get the money donated, and I’ll make the gofundme, not you.”

That’s like a month and a half away Roman thinks I’ll have enough time. “sure thing emo nightmare.”

Roman’s emo hung up. He smiles like an idiot.

“Why not ask him out? it’s clear you’re fond of him” Roman’s roommate Logan says from his side of the room.

“ask out a guy I don’t even know the name of? yeah sure” Roman snorts.

“what? Scared you’ll be rejected? I cannot believe I’m saying this, but Roman I am getting more dick then you have been ever since you started talking to your radio boy.” Logan says in an even tone.

Roman pretends to gag “you don’t need to tell me how much you and my brother have done it Logan, you two being together is enough for me to want to bleach my eyes.”

“you’re no better whenever you’re going out with someone, or even hooked up with a slightly above average guy.”

Remus barged in “Loooo I need help studying.”

Roman stood up “that’s my queue to leave.”

Remus watches Roman go “so what where you two talking about?”

“oh you know, he’s still calling the campus radio station to ask for disney songs” Logan says.

“Wait, Roman is Princey?” Remus asks, he starts laughing

“Yes? You didn’t know?”

Remus cackles “no! oh this is great! My best friend Virgil does the 11 to 1 radio, he’s Emo Nightmare and Roman is his Princey”

“We could set them up, Roam is so lovesick, I swear he’s head over heels for him and he hasn’t even met Virgil” Logan says.

Remus gasps “this is why I love you! Of course we’re going to set them up.”

Logan and Remus came up with a plan, they’d invite Roman and Virgil to a study session and then never showed up, leaving Virgil and Roman to wait.

Virgil puts on his headphones and starts loudly playing panic at the disco and reading over his shitty notes.

Someone taps him on the shoulder “hey can you turn the emo shit down, I’m trying to study and it’s really loud.”

Virgil turns it down a bit “that good?”

he nods “yeah, where you also ghosted for a study session?”

“Yeah I was, my best friend and his nerdy boyfriend where supposed to help me study, they probably forgot all about me.” Virgil says.

“Logan And Remus? Remus is my brother and Logan’s my roommate” Roman says.

“Yeah, well since we’re both here we could study together if you want” please say no please say no.

“Sounds good!” Roman says.

Fuck.

Virgil and Roman studied for awhile and Virgil very slowly started warming up to Roman. “ah shit I have to go, see you round I guess” Virgil says packing up his stuff, he wanted to have some alone time before his shift.

“ok Bye Virgil,” Roman says packing up, he had to go do his own thing, which would probably end up becoming a quick nap before his emo nightmare started his turn being the radio host.

Virgil sat in the chair “what up bitches, so far the goal has 10k, so no disney tonight, or ever because this is on a time crunch and 150k is a fuck ton of money for broke college students. And now onto Fuck you by Lily Allen. Why? Because she’s underrated and because I said so.” Virgil played the song.

Virgil got the call around 12:30 “you’re calling later then usual princey, and no, no disney tonight.”

“Oh I was just about to ask. And also I was asking how to find the gofundme.”

“It’s on the UCLA radio website, can’t miss it. Now let me do my fucking job” Virgil hung up and played MCR as was tradition.

What he didn’t know was Roman recorded the phone call and posted it everywhere he could anonymously and waited.

Virgil checked the go fund me in the morning “it has fifty k already?! What the fuck? Princey what did you do?”

Virgil waited for the nightly call “Hey what the fuck how is the goal at sixty k? How the fuck princey?”

He laughed “I asked the internet for help, I think most of it’s from tiktok, you’re going to have to play disney emo nightmare”

“fuck you princey and your stupid obsession with disney.”

“you have an obsession with my chemical romance and Brendon Urie”

“name three other artists I play on here then bitch.”

“Mother Mother, Lily Allen and as of late Derivakat” Roman says without hesitation.

Virgil was speechless for a second, then hung up. “fucking bitch, you guys know what time it is” he played Teenagers.

A week and a half passed and the funds had slowly been going up, and Virgil and Roman’s calls continued nightly as usual.

Virgil and Roman met up a few times to study for finals, sometimes with Remus and Logan, sometimes without.

the goal just barely missed the end of finals. Virgil smirked “No disney today, or ever because you people missed the goal byyyyy” Virgil checked the go fund me “three thousand dollars. I’d say better luck next time but there won’t be a next time.” he chuckled. The phone rang and Virgil picked up, knowing it was Princey.

“oooh too late princey no disney songs during my shift.”

“you might want to check the gofundme one last time my dear emo nightmare.”

Virgil refreshes the page “first of all, I’m not yours bitch second- what the fuck, how?” the goal had been met.

Roman laughs “play the disney emo. Play. The fucking. Disney.”

Virgil could tell he was gonna gloat so he hung up.

Virgil grumbles and gets the disney queued “ok fine the goal was met, so time for my suffering, I have queued Fixer Upper from Frozen because it’s a shitty song with a shitty message. Make a man out of you because I like Mulan and for everyone’s inconvenience I have How Far I’ll Go so have fun with that stuck in your head.”

Roman was a bit insulted when Emo nightmare hung up on him, so he called him back once the songs had ended “wasn’t so hard was it?”

“for you maybe, it was for me,” Virgil hung up and blocked the number.

Over the Summer both Virgil and Roman found themselves missing their talks. Roman so much so he applied for one of the newly opened spots for the next semester from 2-5 pm.

Virgil drove onto campus at 4, putting on campus radio and was met with disney. the song ended and the new host spoke “and I hope everyone liked that, up now is a short commercial break.”

Virgil nearly swerved off the road and pulled over and called the station.

Roman picked up. “Hey what the actual FUCK?” Virgil says as soon as he does.

Roman laughs “oh how the tables have turned Emo Nightmare”

“I hate you, I fucking hate you what the actual fuck princey”

he laughed more “You yourself said that working here is nice, and there was an opening, so I took it. You should be happy, I mean now I won’t brother you about playing disney.”

Virgil frowned “yeah yeah, whatever princey have fun with that.”

“oh I will emo nightmare, I absolutely will.” Roman hung up feeling happy in a way he hadn’t felt all summer.

Virgil unpacked his stuff in his new dorm, he was a little pissed but also excited. Maybe he and princey would finally meet face to face. Why am I excited about that? I hate him, at the least he annoyed me every day for months, but he did raise a bunch of money. Even if his disney obessed ass is super annoying.

Roman walked in at 6 “hey Virgil, I’m guessing you’re going to be my roommate?”

Virgil looked up from his laptop “I guess, don’t take my monsters from the fridge and we’ll be golden, or blast disney 24/7″

Roman chuckled “what do you have against disney?”

“Micky Mouse killed my parents in front of me after I said that Merida was my favorite princess.” Virgil said dryly.

Roman chuckled “that’s why I dedicated my life to the mouse.”

“That’s why I swore to get my revenge on the mouse.”

“I won’t blast disney 24/7 but you can’t blast your emo music.” Roman says

Virgil snorted “dude I have the worst anxiety I don’t even own a speaker. so you don’t blast your music, I won’t blast mine and we’ll be fine.”

“Deal,”

Roman called that night like always and Virgil was ready “aww Princey, did you miss me that much?”

“not really, but I’m still trying to get you to willingly play a disney song.”

Virgil rolled his eyes “you know what, it’s a new year, time for a new leaf, I’ll humor you princey and play a disney song.”

“wait really?”

Virgil queued up Mad At Disney “no.” he hung up and the song started.

Virgil and Roman went back to their usual routine of lowkey flirting with each other during Virgil’s shift, and sometimes during Roman’s.

They where getting along well as roomates but hadn’t figured out that they where each other’s Princey and emo nightmare.

Somehow he and Princey had gotten into an argument about if Cruella would be a good or bad movie. Roman had hope it would be, Virgil wasn’t so convinced.

“Princey, she is a completely evil character, she can’t be redeemable, she shouldn’t be. She wanted to make puppies into a coat, that’s fucked up. There’s no black and white she’s bad and that’s that.”

“Maybe if you gave the movie a chance!”

“fuck no! did you not hear what I just fucking said?”

“then how about we see it then we can see who’s right?”

“fine, I’m free at three this Satuday.” Virgil said, way too caught up in the moment.

“same, see you then emo nightmare, I’ll be by the doors waiting.”

“fine, but I’m going to be right.”

“then it’s a date!”

“I guess it is!” Virgil hung up.

he didn’t realize he’d said yes to going out on a date with a guy he didn’t even know until the next day.

The whole campus was freaking out about it since the station had blown up quite a bit because of Virgil and Roman’s nightly arguments. 

Roman left early, he’d dressed up a bit, and had a disney shirt with a little crown logo on it, it wasn’t that obvious but he figured it’d be telling enough.

Virgil put on a bit more eyeliner then usual and fishnets under his ripped jeans but that was about it, he chose to be petty and waited until about 3:20 to go to the doors where Roman wait waiting.

Virgil walked passed him at first. Roman saw him “emo nightmare?”

Virgil stopped “are you fucking kidding me?” he got a few glares from parents. “You’re princey? my fucking roommate?”

“I did not plan that, but yeah I am, and you’re my emo nightmare.”

Virgil rolled his eyes “still not yours princey, come on the movies about to start.”

They exited the movie and Virgil grinned “I fucking told you it’d be bad, I told you!”

“yeah yeah, you did it was bad. Want to get some coffee?”

“sure, I’ll pay,” Virgil said casually.

Roman grinned “I’ll win you over one day my emo nightmare.”

“stop begging me to play disney music and maybe you will.”

#roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders #sander sides #prinxiety #roman x virgil #roman sanders x virgil sanders

[sunshineandbnha]

Unexpected - Denki x reader (Valentine’s Day)

Word count: 3,978

Warnings: none, aside from a case of “Did not edit, just finished this this morning”

A/n: HOW DID THIS END UP SO LONG?? I swear, I started it with the idea and intention that it would be 1.4k or 1.9k words. How did I accidentally write two thousand more words? Anyway, I hope this is a good valentine fic for Denki boy. I thought of it due to a prompt on tumblr. If I can later remember who it was who made it, I will edit this and have a link to that post.

Edit: Found it. The prompt was made by @love-me-a-good-prompt

~

When was it you started to look at him differently?

"Hey!"

You looked over your shoulder to find Kaminari making his way past several students in the cafeteria to get to you. You turned your body to face him. Though, you felt awkward about still holding your lunchtray, as if it was a barrier between you and him.

"Do you got a date for tomorrow?" he asked with a grin.

Your heart gave a weep at the reminder of Valentine's day. As if the hearts and commercials all over the place weren't enough. "What do you think?"

"Just checking." He dashed to get his lunch tray he had set down, and sped walked to your side as you picked a table to sit at.

Kaminari had been your friend for several months. One day you had simply overheard him talking about a manga, the same one you had read, and you jumped into the conversation. After that, the both of you became easy friends, and frequently had lunch at the same table.

"Why would you even ask?” You slid into a seat at the table. “You know there's no one I'm really interested in."

"Except for fictional characters," he added while getting into his own chair across from you.

"Yeah. Unfortunately they aren't available for me to ask out."

He leaned back in his seat. “We’re really missing out on these things. I thought by the time I was in high school training to be a cool hero, I would have tons of girls who like me by now.”

“And I, for some reason, thought I would magically manifest a special someone. But that’s clearly not happening anytime soon.” You stared down while absent mindedly stirring your food.

He suddenly sat straight and looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes. The kind that told you he had an idea. "What if we did all of that classy Valentine's day stuff together?"

"I think you meant cliche."

"Banana, ba- ... oh wait, that's not how the saying goes."

You let out a large laugh and nearly choked on your food.

"Something with tomatoes or potatoes," he continued with a wave of his hand as if throwing away the topic. "Well, what do you think? You wanna do it?"

"You just want the chocolate, don't you?"

"No! I would never!" He waved his arms around. "... Well, that too."

"I knew it!" You lifted your fork/chopstick of food into air in triumph. "Just make sure you get my favorite chocolate once White Day rolls around."

"Sure thing!" He gave a thumbs up. "I'm sure I can get enough money by then!"

"You've been using all of it on manga and snacks again, haven't you?"

"What else would I use it on?"

"Okay. Just don't use the money for my chocolate on manga."

"If I did, It would be a great manga and be worth a lot more than some chocolate. Actually, that should be a thing. Instead of getting girls chocolate, get them manga! And we should get manga too. ... So, are we doing it?" he asked when he paused long enough to think.

"I don't know,” you shrugged while taking another bite.

He slammed his hand on the table. "But you said it like you did! I just agreed to get you chocolate next month!"

"I was saying if I agreed. If I agreed then you would have to get me chocolate.” You internally laughed at his response.

Kaminari slumped in his chair. "Okay, but my point is, how long have we been single? And it doesn't look like it's going to change anytime soon, so I was thinking why not we experience some of it while we're still in high school?"

"Hmmm," you tapped your finger against your lip. "Well, you have a point. And I guess I got nothing better to do tomorrow."

“So it’s a yes?” his eyes lit up.

“I guess so.”

“Yes!” He jumped up and some heads turned towards him. “I got a—!”

You hastily pulled him back down and got a hold of his ear. He yelped in pain before you shushed him. The attention he had gained was beginning to die down after doing that, much to your relief. You released a small puff of air, grateful that you didn’t feel like you were in a spotlight anymore.

“Kaminari,” you whispered into his ear, an edge present in your voice, “Don’t go announcing it to the world, especially if it’s not an actual date. Do not ruin it for me.”

You let go, and he got out of the awkward position of being pulled half way onto the table. Thankfully, he hadn’t landed in his food when you pulled him down. He settled back in his chair and rubbed his ear.

“Okay! You can count on me!”

 Maybe it was a bad idea to suddenly agree when that meant you had to make chocolate for him that night. You already had some chocolate you bought from the store for family and friends. One of those giri chocos was originally going to be his, but now you would have to actually make him honmei choco if you were going to have the whole Valentine's Day experience. You considered skipping on that for a brief second, but you had already agreed to do it. Plus, you weren't sure if you would ever get to do this during high school at this rate. And you wanted to at least have done it once.

You'd have to run to the store to get better quality chocolate, a cute wrap for it, and a heart shaped mold. In order to save time, you went directly to the nearest store after school. It would save time, which you didn't have much of it. You didn't know how long it would take to make them, and you wanted some extra time in case you make a mistake and had to do something over again.

It was more crowded than you thought. You also didn't realize how many stares you would get just for being in your U.A. uniform. Thankfully, everything you needed was there and you made your way to the counter to pay. As you were weaving your way through the people, you thought you saw another student. You did a double take. Uniform. Pink skin. Ashido.

You tried to duck and hide, but it was too late.

"Oh, hey!" She waved you down and ran to you. A bag of purchased goods was hanging from her arm. "What are you doing here? Are you getting last minute giri choco too!"

“I, uh.”

“Hey, isn't that stuff to make chocolate? Wait a second… OMG! Who’s the lucky person!”

You nervously held the items close to you. This was why you didn't want her seeing you. "No one, really. I'm just... making it for the experience." You put a smile onto your face and did your best to make the last half of the sentence sound cheery.

It wasn't technically a lie. You just hoped she bought it. Because if she kept prying and learned it was for Kaminari, you would never hear the end of it.

"Okay. Can I have some when you're done?" She joked and bumped your arm with her elbow.

"Only if I didn't eat it all first." You internally high fived yourself for the quick reply.

"Okay. Well, see you at U.A." She waved before dashing out the door.

"Bye!" You watched her go. When she was out of view, you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding.

 You stood nervously in the park. You wore a Valentine Day themed outfit you had put together, with the help of some ideas from the internet. It was 5:45 pm, the time you agreed on meeting. You had honestly expected him to be slightly late. Though it did nothing to make your feel less jittery.

There were quite a few people who also had the same idea of going to the park. Some friends playing Frisbee. A family walking by. And some couples. You scanned the area for him, multiple times, but still couldn't see him.

Why were you even so worried? This was your friend. It’s not like it was an actual date with someone you liked. If he forgot or something, you could just chew him out later. Then that 'what if' situation made you sick to your stomach and you forced yourself to stop thinking about it.

"Hey!"

You head turned up within a split second and you saw him. He wore a dark blue button up shirt. This plus his smile and hair... somehow made him look nice. A smile spread on your face, yet your nerves didn't completely calm down just yet.

"Hey!" You greeted back.

"You look nice," he commented.

"You too." You nodded. "So, what were you planning on doing first?"

"I thought we'd walk around here first, then go to this one restaurant. And after that we can wander around shops." he shrugged.

"Okay, sounds nice." You began walking side by side with him.

Your brain tried to sabotage the moment by beginning to make you feel awkward. You did your best to push it away. But were you supposed to be walking in silence? Or talking?

"You wanna hold hands?" He offered.

"Hmm," you joking held your finger to your lip in deep thought. "I think no."

"Oh, come on!" He acted upset, but there was a big grin on his face.

You laughed and he joined in. A few more jokes were thrown back and forth as you passed trees and other people. Though within a seemingly short amount of time, the conversation hit dead end. You pulled on your sleeve and look in any direction but him.

"Okay, this is getting boring,” he said. “Can we go to the restaurant now?”

"Lucky for you, I think we're almost at the end of the park, and I'm hungry."

“Yes!” he cheered. “They always make walking through the park look more fun in the movies.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a laugh.

Kaminari led you to the place he picked out. Well, more like he tried to go there, then got lost and had to give up on relying on his memory. He made the brilliant move of pulling out his phone, setting the location on his map app, and he following it. But you both realized that he had gotten the point where you going mixed up with your location.  This resulted in having to backtrack and ignoring your growling stomach as it took even longer to get there.

Finally, you found it. You entered through door with him. Inside were tables placed around a large circle. The conveyor belt had several plates of food with different types of sushi and other dishes. The chiefs in the middle of the circle conveyor worked hard to keep the food coming. Almost every table was filled.

“Aw, man. We should have gotten here earlier,” Kaminari grabbed your hand. “C’mon.”

You both ran until you spotted a free table and slide in. It took a second to catch your breath after the sudden sprint. Sitting in the chair, you looked around more closely. It was a nice place. There were people chattering, some clanking of plates, and mouth watering food slowly passing by you. You reached up to begin to grab one, but then you stopped yourself.

"Wait, am I paying for myself or where you...?"

"You can have whatever you want. My treat," he replied with a ish eating grin. Probably meant that he thought what he just said was very cool.

You laughed to yourself and picked one and he did the same. It was good. You were pleasantly surprised, though you weren't sure why. Maybe it was because he had only learned of the restaurant while looking up ones online to take you to. And it was only yesterday that you agreed. Then again, you had made honmei choco the other night...

You suddenly remembered something and nearly choked on your sushi roll.

"You okay?" Kaminari said, unfortunately dismissing any hope you had that he didn't notice.

"No, I'm good. I just need to make a phone call. One second." You excused yourself and walked outside while pulling out your phone.

It was an uncomfortable change to suddenly be greeted by the chilly February air. Was it really that cold when you  were with Kaminari? You dialed your mom's number and resisted the urge to pace.

As soon as you heard the other end being picked up, you began. "Mom, I need you to get something for me. If you look in the kitchen, somewhere on the counter is where I left a bag of chocolate for Valentine's day. Can you bring that to me?" You had been so busy trying to get ready and be on time, that you had accidentally left the honmei choco you made.

"Uhh, okay. But where are you? It’ll be awfully hard to give it to you if I don’t know where you are."

"In a little bit I should be..." you tried to think of a good point to meet up, "near Takoba Municipal Beach Park. Probably close to that one gazebo. I'll text you that so you don't forget after I hang up."

"Okay. I hope you appreciate this. I really don't feel like going all the way out there to give you something you forgot."

"If I could go back and un-forget it, I would. Thank you. Bye."

With that, the call ended. You took a deep breath to calm your heart, which seemed to think forgetting chocolate was a catastrophic event, and went back inside.

When you caught sight of Kaminari again he was dunking a chunk of seaweed and fish into soy sauce, before shoving it into his already full mouth. He stopped  and paused upon seeing you. He chewed and swallowed as quickly as he could and finished by the time you sat back down.

"So, what was that about?" he started it off as a joke, but his voice seemed shaky for whatever reason.

"I just forgot something and asked Mom to go get it for me." Technically wasn't a lie.

"Oh, okay." He began eating more. He started counting the plates and you could see his face pale a tad.

"Is everything alright for you?"

"Huh? I mean, yeah, everything's great." He smiled at you.

You shrugged and focused your gaze on the conveyor belt. A particularly delicious looking morsel. It was clearly more expensive, with a nice layer of tuna in it. You reached out your hand, considering getting it when you saw Kaminari flinch at your action.

You turned to him. "Do I need to pay for my own meal?"

"No, no," he tried to retain the coolness he built up, "I can pay."

You sighed. "No, you are not going broke because of expensive fish."

"But, that's not-"

"What? It's not cool? Denki- oops.” You realized you accidentally used his given name.

His face turned the slightest bit pink, though you hardly even noticed in your own embarrassment. “That’s fine. You can call me Denki. We’ve known each other long enough.”

“Thanks,” you nodded and continued, “Denki, you are my friend," why did the word 'friend' leave a different taste this time 'round? "and I don't want you doing something stupid because you think it makes you look cool."

He struggled to make a comeback and ended up blurting out, "Doing something stupid that makes me look cool defines me."

"Look, let's split the bill between us, that way you pay for some of mine, but you don't spend up the money for the chocolate you promised me."

"Wait, you didn't care about me, you just wanted to make sure you still got chocolate." He faked an offended expression.

You exhaled a laugh. "Yeah, sure. Whatever makes you feel better. As long as you agree."

"Fine."

"But don't purposefully buy more just because I'm offering to pay half."

"Can't make any promises~"

"You little-"

Eventually, you became full enough, or rather reached the maximum to what you were willing to pay. Then you left. You blinked when you stepped out. You hadn’t expected it to become this dark. Kaminari began walking off, probably to some store or the mall, but you grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Is it alright if we stop by the beach?"

His eyes lit up, like the stars in the sky. "Great idea! That'd be much more romantic."

You expected to roll your eyes, but what you found was your face growing warm and your mouth being lost for words. Thankfully, he didn't notice and just started running for the beach, pulling you along. Buildings loomed over you in the dark, until they finally cleared and the beach came into view. The sea seemed to become the night sky. It gently washed over the sand in a rhymic pattern. The sound of it filled your ears and your senses listened. A sense of calmness washed over you.

You both walked up to the gate that separated the beach from the road. Kaminari leaned against the metal gate, resting on his arms. The two of you stared at the view in a comfortable silence.

“Wow, this is nice,” he commented.

“Yeah.” There was a weird feeling, somewhat reminiscent to a flutter or squeeze, in your chest. Something that made the moment seem more magical. You could almost feel this feeling rising and beginning to climb up your throat.

More silence, then a movement caught your attention out the corner of your eye. Your mom was waving to you and held a small bag that slightly reflected in the small amount of light there was.

“One second, I need to go get something,” you let him know and ran to your mom. “Thank you so much.”

“Just don’t make this a habit,” she handed it to you. Then she glanced to where Kaminari was and squinted. “Is that your date? Is that why you were making chocolate?”

“No,” your voice came out more unsure for some reason, “well, I… was just making that for myself. This is just giri choco.”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “Don’t stay out much longer.”

“I won’t.” You quickly ran back. “Hey,” you greeted him.

“Hey. What was that about?”

“Noting important,” you shrugged and leaned on the gate. “Oh, and here.” You held the bag out to him, trying to act cool and nonchalant, but you knew you had a big smirk on your face.

He gasped and snatched it out of your hold. He wrestled with the bag, trying to get it open. Once he succeeded, he looked inside. A big smile spread across his face and he pulled it out. He held a large chocolate heart on a stick, almost like a lollipop. You thought that would be fun to make. Of course, now that he held it, you could see all the tiny imperfections. Like where a small air bubble had been, or how some chocolate had gotten on the stick. But Kaminari didn’t seem to care at all. He stared at it in awe. Like he had just been given something he wanted for years.

“Wow! Wait, did your mom just give this to you? Did you forget?” he looked over to you.

“What, no, I would never…” you laughed nervously. “But I did make it. You better like it, or else,” you joked.

“I’m sure I will! Wow. You made this?”

“Yep. Last night.”

“Thank you!” He took a bite out of it and began happily chewing.

You smiled. Your eyes locked onto the gazebo on the beach. It looked really nice. The thought of you being in it made you want to go even more. Currently there was a couple there, but then they walked out and started going down the beach. Your eyes lit up.

You looked to Kaminari, tugged on his sleeve, and pointed to the now empty location.

He grinned. “I think I know what you’re thinking and I think we should do it too.”

With a couple of small laughs you both hurried down to the beach was fast as you could. The sand made you slow your pace into a walk, but you didn’t mind. The sea air on you felt refreshing, chilling your skin. The moon was beautiful and the water reflected slivers of the moonlight that danced.

"It looks really nice." You smiled.

"Yeah... wanna hold hands?" He offered his free hand to you.

To your surprise, this actually sounded nice. And to your greater surprise, you accepted. Your hand slipped in his perfectly. Almost like it found its home. The second you skin touched, it was like electricity ran through you and jump started your heart. You were about to ask if he was using his quirk, but quickly realized that it didn't feel exactly like electricity. But the strange feeling in your heart continued. You couldn't tell if it felt nice or if you wanted it to go away.

Your feet kept sinking in the sand until you reached the pier and had to get used to walking on concrete again. You made your way to the roof on the end of the pier, hand in hand. You stood by the edge. Staring at the water.

Kaminari took the last bite. “That was delicious.”

“Thanks.”

“So…” he looked around. He put the stick back into the bag and placed it in his pocket. “Wanna dance?”

Instead of your usual joking reply, you felt flustered, but shyly accepted. He pulled out his phone and started some music up. You put your hand in his and the other on his shoulder. He held you by the waist. You tried to regulate your breathing and calm down. The two of you began spinning in time with the music. He twirled you around. You even did that one move you would see in movies. When you’d spin out, like a door opening, while still holding his hand. The he’d pull you back to him. It all felt simple, and fun.

Right as the fourth song was ending, you had an overwhelming urge to ask him something. “Umm,” then you stopped yourself when you realized exactly what it was you actually wanted to ask. But why did it feel like it was rising out of your throat, desperately wanting to be said.

“Yeah?” he looked at you. His yellow eyes made you feel like melting, an effect they never had up until that point.

“I… it was nothing.”

“Really?”

“No.” You cursed yourself for automatically saying the truth.

 “Then what is it?” He looked at you more intently.

Your mind was doing somersaults trying to figure out what to do or say. “Date, please,” you blurted out.

“Huh?”

“Well, um.” You really wished you had kept your mouth shut. You stared down and said in the most quiet voice possible, “I think maybe I kinda like you and maybe, kinda, want to go on a real date with you. Maybe? If you’d be fine with that, maybe.”

“Wait,” he stepped back as if in surprise. “You. Want to date… me?”

Your face was burning to the point you wanted to stick into the water like an ostrich. “Yes?”

He threw his arms in the air and jumped around. “Yes! I got an actual date! I’m finally dating someone! They said I couldn’t do it!”

“You don’t need to announce it to the whole world.” You laughed.

“Well, you are m—”

“I swear, if you say finish with ‘my world’ I will knock you over the head.”

He let out a big laugh. “Why? You don’t want to be my world?”

His laughter was contagious. “No, it’s cheesy, and this literally just happened a minute ago.”

You both started to walk back, and hardly even noticed when your hands slipped perfectly into one another.

#denki x reader #kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #Valentine's day #bnha denki #mha denki #bnha kaminari #mha kaminari #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

[caranfindel]

Take these broken wings and learn to fly (15.20 coda)

het, but Wincest-compatible | about 2300 words | PG-13 for language | characters: sam winchester, sam’s blurry wife |

Julia has been widowed (God, what an awful word, widowed) for three years when she meets Sam. It’s a work-based friendship at first. She’s kind of lonely and sad, he’s kind of lonely and sad, and they gravitate toward each other. And then one evening they’re at a bar, the last ones left from an after-work happy hour, both of them drinking more than they should, and she thinks he’s kind and thoughtful and smart and he may be 10 years older than me but he’s still hot as hell and I enjoy being with him and I look forward to seeing him and maybe I should just… and she kisses him. He’s shocked; shocked enough to confirm that he wasn’t just hanging around hoping to make it out of the friendzone. And then he’s holding her face in his hands and he’s kissing her too.

It’s good. They’re good together. It’s not the earth-shattering, all-encompassing romance she had with Shaun. Julia knows she’ll never have anything like that again. Most people don’t even get one soulmate in their lives; no one gets two. And she knows Sam doesn’t have that same desperate love that Shaun had for her; she knows she’ll never have his whole heart. (She knows the woman he intended to marry was killed in a fire, she knows another woman he loved went back to her ex. She doesn’t know which of these women still owns that last piece of Sam’s heart.) But she loves Sam, and he loves her, and they get married.

(The sex is amazing. Sometimes he’s gentle, almost reverent, as if he’s afraid he’ll break her, and other times he’s fierce and passionate and almost tries to break her, and she loves both ends of the spectrum.)

She suggests they melt down her old wedding band to make a new one. It was an heirloom from her grandmother, a plain wide band of yellow gold that she loves, that she thought she’d wear for the rest of her life. But Shaun is the one who put it on her finger the first time. It doesn’t seem right to ask Sam to accept it now. A new band from the old gold seems like a good compromise. No, Sam says, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I know a way we can make it ours. He has the inside of the band engraved with the same symbol he wears tattooed over his heart, and makes her promise to never take it off. Bad luck, he says.

He’s such a contradiction. Scary smart, but as superstitious as an Appalachian grandmother. Calm and unflappable, but with a weirdly hyperactive startle reflex. Kind and empathetic, but capable of extreme violence when pushed to his limits (seriously, don’t walk your drunk ass up to Sam Winchester’s wife and lay hands on her, and don’t get mouthy when she tells you to back off) and just really, frighteningly skilled at that violence.

(A little frightening and also very sexy. Julia’s always had a thing for the hero type.)

They both have nightmares. One night Julia watches Shaun’s face melting under his gear and wakes with a cry of horror. Sam holds her as she tearfully describes living on the knife edge of constant fear that comes with loving someone whose job is literally running into burning buildings. I know, he says, over and over, even though he can’t possibly know. The irony of their first loves both dying in flames is not lost on her, but it’s not like his college girlfriend was a firefighter. It’s not like he watched her go to work every day and prayed she’d make it home alive.

Julia’s pregnancy is a wonderful surprise. She and Shaun had tried for over a year before she was widowed, and she just didn’t count on it happening with Sam. They agree not to name the baby after anyone they’ve lost. Let’s not name him after our pain, she says, and Sam is okay with that. (Or he isn’t. But ever since she showed him the positive pregnancy test, she’s known she could ask him for anything. She’s known he would rip out his heart and serve it on a platter if she asked for it.)

But they haven’t decided on a name yet when her water breaks four weeks early. When their perfect baby boy is born at 12:10 a.m., the nurse announces the date and time and Sam looks up at her in shock and blinks away happy tears and says it’s the 24th. It’s my brother’s birthday. Julia is flying high on endorphins; she loves this baby and she loves this man and she even loves his dead brother she never got to meet, and she says it’s got to be a sign; let’s name him Dean.

She takes off her wedding ring, just this once, to have Dean’s birthdate engraved on the inside. Sam does the same with his own ring. He insists they go to a jeweler who will engrave while they wait, rather than leaving the rings there. She waves a hand at her lumpy postpartum body. You afraid someone’s gonna make a move on all this if you don’t keep a ring on it?

He laughs at her and says you’re onto me, even though he’s the one who needs to be locked away, still with that long lean runner’s body and the amazing shoulders and the goddamn dimples. I just don’t like us being without them, he says. He is a sweet, sentimental fool and she adores him. He bends down to kiss her, carefully maneuvering the baby he’s wearing in a sling, and Julia looks at this man and this baby and this life she didn’t think she was get to have and knows she’s happier than she has any right to be. And she’s relieved when Sam slips the ring back onto her finger, this ring imbued with the men she loves, so maybe he’s not the only sentimental fool.

(One thing she loves about Sam is that he understands why she feels guilty that Shaun didn’t get to share this life with her.)

In July they light a little candle for Dean’s six-month birthday. When Julia wakes the next morning, Sam’s side of the bed is empty and cold. She finds him cuddling their sleeping baby in the living room. I got up to give him a bottle, Sam says. I guess I just fell asleep out here. His red-rimmed eyes and empty coffee mug suggest he didn’t actually sleep at all, but, well. They’re both battling their own private demons. If a night cradling the baby gives Sam some peace for whatever reason, she’s glad of it.

Sam’s fierce love for their child takes her by surprise. If Julia has 90% of his heart, his son has 110%. He parents with a vengeance, is the only way she can think of to describe it. Like he’s making up for something. She doesn’t feel slighted, but it’s impossible to ignore that ever since Dean was born, Sam’s prime objective has been to make sure the boy is happy and safe. Everything else comes second.

(When she notices Sam has been carefully marking his tattoo symbol onto Dean’s clothing, hidden near seams and always in a color that almost matches the fabric, she decides not to say anything. He gets a little funny about his superstitions sometimes.)

Sam desperately wants Dean to have a sibling, and they try for another one, but it doesn’t happen. Julia reminds him that they’re lucky to have even one child. That having a sibling is not a lifetime guarantee of companionship and love. She should know, after all, since Stephanie cut her off after she married that asshole Scientologist and decided she couldn’t have a relationship with anyone who wasn’t also in their stupid cult.

Dean has plenty of friends and tons of activities, which Sam encourages with an almost religious fervor, but he never pulls away from his parents. They have so much in common, Sam and his son. Instead of rebelling as a teenager, Dean seems to grow even closer to his father. They spend hours together, paging through the ancient books in Sam’s study (she hates them, they smell musty and make her sneeze) or driving in the old Chevrolet. They even travel together sometimes, visiting those friends of Sam’s that live up north somewhere. Julia met them at the wedding and they were perfectly nice, thrilled to death that she and Sam had found each other. But she always feels like an outsider when they’re around, like they’re part of something she’ll never understand. So much history, with Sam and the brother she never got to meet. They absolutely dote on Dean though, and he seems to love them too, so the boys’ trip to Sioux Falls becomes an annual event.

(Dean is 14 years old when he comes home from one of these trips with his own version of the tattoo.)

When Julia is diagnosed with cancer, Dean is 16 years old. Sam does his best to ensure life goes on as normal for their son but somehow never neglects Julia’s needs. He throws himself into research and is always on top of the latest treatment, always at her elbow with the top internet-recommended remedy for her side effects, making sure both she and Dean have everything they want and need, all the attention and support they can tolerate. She doesn’t know when, or if, Sam actually sleeps. When she feels up for it, he arranges experiences for the three of them. A week lying on the beach, a weekend in New York City, a night in the mountains looking at the stars. When we look back on this time, he says, I don’t want us to only remember how much it sucked. I want us all to have good memories too.

(She doesn’t know why he’s concerned about her memories. There’s a good chance she won’t have much time to enjoy them. But it’s good for Dean. She doesn’t want this to ruin Dean’s childhood.)

Sam insists Dean go away to college as planned. Julia agrees, although she’s kind of surprised he’s willing to let the boy out of his sight. Aren’t you going to miss him? she asks.

So much, he answers. But this isn’t about me, and what I need. It’s about him. They drive Dean to school in the ancient Chevrolet. Supposedly because the trunk has room for all of his stuff, but Julia is pretty sure it’s just one last sentimental road trip in the old thing before Sam retires it. When they pick Dean up at the end of the school year, it’s in her SUV. Dean promises his father, more than once, that he’ll restore the Chevy someday.

Five years after Julia’s diagnosis, she’s sitting in the doctor’s office learning that her last remission was her last remission. There are no more options. She has months, not years. Sam clutches her hand and nods, once, as if to say I should have known this would happen; I should have expected something like this. Then he takes her home.

It’s a blessing in a way, he says late that night, after a little too much to drink. Knowing what’s coming. Having time to say goodbye. You don’t always get that. And yes, she knows this as well as anybody does.

Sam has always been supportive of her choice not to contact Stephanie, but one day he says Jules, I promise I’ll never bring it up again. It’s just that I don’t want you to have any regrets. I don’t want you miss the opportunity to say things that you’ll wish you’d said. Julia isn’t sure Steph will speak to her. She’s not even sure she’ll have the same phone number — they haven’t spoken since Dad’s funeral, a year after she was widowed — but she makes the call. And Steph answers. And cries. And comes to visit, where she hugs and cries some more. Sam watches it all with a sad smile for a while, then disappears into the garage to sit in the old Chevy.

When Julia takes her last conscious breaths, Dean is holding one hand and Sam is holding the other. She squeezes her son’s hand and thinks I love you, dear boy, and I’m sorry I have to leave you. She squeezes her husband’s hand and thinks thank you for giving me this, thank you for taking care of me, thank you for loving me and letting me love you. Then she closes her eyes and lets the soft, warm darkness take over.

And then. Then she wakes to a cool breeze and the sound of chirping birds. She’s standing at a lake she recognizes. It’s Shaun’s favorite fishing spot. And Shaun is there, waiting for her. And everything is okay.

Sam does show up eventually. Julia’s sitting on the porch of the cabin with Shaun, enjoying the perpetual nice day (sometimes a spring morning, sometimes a fall afternoon, but always nice) when she hears the familiar rumble. It cant be, she thinks. It can’t be that old car. But it is.

I’m glad you found someone with good taste in cars, Shaun says, as Sam unfolds himself from the driver’s seat. He looks exactly as he did the day she met him; no glasses, only a little grey at his temples. Still tall and strong and beautiful. She runs to meet him and embraces him as Shaun watches from the porch.

You found Shaun, Sam says. I’m so happy for you, Jules. I really am. He doesn’t seem to have any intention of joining her (their) Heaven permanently, but he doesn’t seem to have anyone else with him either. Where is the dead girlfriend? How is this fair?

They talk about Dean, and Julia’s heart swells with pride over her strong, smart, kind, brave son. He’s like you, she says. He’s just like you.

Sam shrugs. He’s a Winchester.

But what about you? she says. You’re not — you’re not alone here, are you?

Nah, he says. I’m good. I promise.

(Eventually Julia meets the first Dean, and she understands.)

===

I know a lot of people have mocked Sam's blurry wife, but I actually have grown to love the concept. Because it means she can be anything we want her to be. And yeah, initially I liked the idea of her being Dr. Cara, or Eileen. But now I don't think that would happen. I think Sam would have to start fresh to have that kind of relationship. And I also like the idea of Sam's wife having her own soulmate somewhere, waiting for her, so she's not a huge part of Sam and Dean's shared Heaven. I mean, they're gonna visit, obviously. And then they'll go home to their soulmates.

The title is from "Blackbird" by the Beatles.

#spn #15.20 #my fic #episode coda #sam winchester

[hyunjilicious]

100 ways to say ‘I love you’ Christmas Edition [bucky barnes]

Summary: it’s pretty self explanatory, I guess. (FLUFF) 1.6k

Warnings: absolutely none, just Bucky being cute, awkward and madly in love with you!!

-

In 2018, you were in Namibia, hunting down an American terrorist that had been on the run for the better part of the year. In 2019, the avengers were scattered around the globe, executing a 'shoot first, ask questions later' type of mission that ended long after the new year began. But this year, all of your friends were home. For the first time in years, the Stark Tower was shining from top to bottom with Christmas lights, carols echoing down all of its long, secluded hallways. It was the first time you'd get to actually spend the night of 24th of December with your true family. That is, if you made it in time. Back on December 19th, you and Bucky got stuck in the depths of Louisiana, with absolutely no means of communication, let alone transportation. You decided to make the best out of the situation and turn it into a road trip, but time flew by so much faster than expected, that it was now 2:13 pm on Christmas eve, and you and Bucky were sprinting down the snow covered empty highways of the east coast, dead set on making it home in time. He wasn't that eager to get back and tried to get you to rent a hotel room and spend the night alone, but you weren't having it. He huffed and puffed about not giving a shit about Christmas, but it was the first one he could celebrate with people that loved him, in over 70 years. With every motel that you passed, he'd turn and look at you from the passenger seat, begging you to stop. You didn't even consider it. You wanted him to have the full Christmas experience. A storm was brewing and you were whiteknuckling the steering wheel, fighting back the urge to yawn for the 3rd time in the last 10 minutes. After driving for 7 hours straight, you were close to passing out, but nowhere near ready to give up. "Pull over, love" he smiled, grabbing your thigh, "Let me drive. I'll wake you up when we arrive"

-

And of course Bucky refused to decorate. You spent the better half of the day rummaging through boxes and looking up diy tutorials on the Internet, doing your absolute best to make your bedroom as cozy and Christmasy as possible. Candles were scattered all over the furniture, their soft light and delicate cinnamon scent filling up the room, a small Santa Claus figurine was sitting neatly by the window, garlands dripped from every corner and your Christmas playlist was on shuffle for probably the 4th time that day. As you kept busy, lowkey exasperated whenever one ornament didn't fit in as planned, Bucky laid on the bed, making nasty comments with every chance he got. He complained about the music, said the room was too hot, that the candles made his nose feel funny and not for a second did he stop begging you to drop the fucking decorating and join him in bed. You didn't wanna hear it. You kept going, bringing in box after box of ornaments, each one making Bucky more and more frustrated.

"Buck!" you whined, turning around in your hands a little remote controlled reindeer. "His leg is stuck... he keeps falling"

"Throw it into the trash" he scoffed, plopping down on his back and hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.

Of course you didn't listen to him. "No..." you mumbled, more to yourself. You sounded like a child, but you didn't care. Instead, you just sat down on the edge of the bed, all your attention focused on the broken toy in your hands, "I'll fix it somehow"

"Just throw the goddamned thing away, Y/n" he groaned, "Only on my nightstand there are other 3. We got enough"

You just shook your head, focused on getting the reindeer to walk again. It was no use. You got no utensils and your nails were threatening to break as you kept trying to open up his battery container. 5 minutes of painful silence followed, ending with you finally giving up, "I'll just put something under his leg and use it as a decoration" you whimpered, legitimately heartbroken over the toy.

"Fuck, just come here. Give it to me. I'll fix the damn thing for you"

Your heart swelled up, "Really?"

"Yeah..." Bucky sighed, grabbing a screwdriver out of his nightstand and picking up the toy. "Master assassin and I'm fixing toys" he mumbled under his breath and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek.

-

Your version of paradise started just when you arrived at the tower on Christmas Eve. Bucky did as promised and then offered you a weak smile, full of warmth as he helped you out of the car when he parked in front of the Tower. You were beaming with excitement for the days that were to come. When the next morning arrived, you were sipping your coffee on the balcony, waiting for everyone to wake up so that you could all start unwrapping the presents. When the door opened you didn't expect Bucky to come out, as he never - ever, failed to sleep until noon, if given the chance. But there he was, wrapped in one of your comfy blankets, padding over to you with a coffee mug in his hand. When he reached you, he opened his arms and welcomed you against his chest, closing his hold around your body and engulfing you in the warmth of the blanket. It didn't take long until you noticed the little paper bag lodged under the elastic of his sweats, and when you asked about it, he cursed himself for ruining the surprise. He handed you the bag, and urged you to open it, insisting that it wasn't your present. When you did, your eyes landed on a knitted bunny clutching a heart to its chest. "An old lady was selling these a few weeks ago at a boutique I saw while waiting for you to meet me. I know you love to call me Bucky Bunny because you know how much I hate it. I forgot about it and came across it this morning at the bottom of my bag while searching for my charger. Now I think its stupid, a dumb rabbit and his eyes are a little bit fucked up, but he's cute and it reminded me of you, so here you go"

-

As much love as some of you had for the holiday, it still wasn't enough to convince the whole group to actually watch a Christmas movie. So, in true avenger spirit, you all decided to watch Terminator. After finishing dinner, you all scattered around the Tower. Some people left to change in more comfortable clothes, some helped clean up the kitchen, and some, like Bucky and Thor, remained in the living room, plopped in the middle of the couch, fangirling over Arnold Schwarzenegger's acting and the great sense of humour of the 90s. Eventually everyone gathered around them, you and Wanda being the last ones to show up. She cuddled against Vision's side, but Bucky was lodged in between Thor and Steve, and there was no way you'd ever ask any of them to move. Seeing you eye an open spot, Bucky waved you over as he stood up. "Here, take my seat". You wanted to object but he didn't want to hear it. Eventually, you sat down, and so did he, on the floor, right in front of you. Nonchalantly, Bucky pulled your legs apart and settled between them, with his back against the couch. He gathered your Christmas themed sock clad feet into his lap and rested his head against your knee as the movie began.

-

And like any other Christmas dinner, of course yours wasn't an exception. Natasha's recipe for apple pie was by definition the best that ever blessed the earth and none of the attendees was any stranger to that. Considering how many of you there were, as you made a point of spending the end of the year together, 2 batches had to be made. It was hectic, everyone fuzzing around the Tower, preparations on tow the whole day. And of course there would be repercussions for the chaotic atmosphere, but you'd only find out about them later. After burning through the first meal courses of the evening, it was finally time for her sweet delicacy to grace the table. Natasha neatly placed the two pies on either end of the table, proudly announcing you could all dig in. Bucky was seated to your right, and he unlike you, managed to grab a piece of pie from the first batch. You didn't think too much of it, until you started eating yours, only to realise the bottom was burned. Despite all of you trying to assure Natasha that it was not her fault and that she shouldn't beat herself up about it, she promised she'd make another one tomorrow. The night carried on as planned, but no matter how much you tried to push away the thought, you couldn't help but feel bitter about missing out on the good pie. Just when you were about to come to your senses and realise what a dumb reason for you to get upset that was, Bucky sent you text, asking you to come to the bedroom. Curious as to what this could have been about, you hurried upstairs and burst into the room, nearly crashing into Bucky's chest. He slammed the door behind you and handed you his plate - his slice of pie only halfway eaten. "I saved you a piece. These are jackals, I had to hide it. Dig in before anyone comes!"

-

On December 27th the buzz was starting to die down. When you put up the lights in your bedroom, Bucky said they could stay on for two days and two days only, and you reluctantly agreed to make a compromise. Just this time. The time to turn them off came last night, and since he offered to let them on until the morning, you felt like an unreasonable little shit if you were to ask him to turn them on again. It was about 7pm and you were two seasons deep in The X Files, and Wanda asked for your help. Bucky pulled out his phone and assured you he wouldn't watch ahead until you got back. It took you about 30 to help your friend with her problem, and when you returned to your room, confusion washed over you. The Christmas lights were on and Bucky was nowhere to be seen. "Fuck" he grunted.

You turned around to see him behind you, standing in the doorway, two cocoa mugs in his hands, "I made these cause I know you like them. And I wanted to surprise you with the lights but vision is a dumbass and forgot to text me and tell me when you were almost done"

"So she didn't actually need help folding the bed sheets?" you laughed, endeared by his antics.

"Of course she didn't" Bucky shook his head, handing you one of the mugs, "She's not an imbecile"

"Oh my god" you giggled in disbelief as you sat down on the bed.

"I'll squirt shit nuggets out of my ass for two days, so please tell me at least I got the recipe right" 

He was so adorable, anxiously waiting for you to taste the cocoa he just made. "It's so good!" you rolled your eyes in pleasure, taking another sip, "Thank you, you're too sweet, Buck"

"Yeah, I know-" he chuckled, grabbing the mug from your palm and placing it on the nightstand. "I got one more present for you. Close your eyes and hold out your hands"

"No, Buck-" you whined, "I didn't get you anything else-"

He dismissed your words in an instant and kissed your lips, before guiding your hands up. You opened them up and closed your eyes, curious about what he could have gotten you. First, you heard him shuffle around the bed, and then you felt something rather itchy touch your palms. You nearly burst into laughter when you realised it was his chin.

"Ok, open your eyes"

And as you did so, your eyes landed on Bucky's face, as he had placed his head on your hands. He was wearing a tiara with reindeer ears, and you couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"You're my present?" you beamed, throwing yourself against his chest.

"My face is the present-" he corrected you. "Guess what it does. Take your leggings off and you'll find out"

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan fluff

[floralseokjin]

;cyber sex (m)

FIRST LOVE, LAST LOVE

⟨gif credit⟩

You want to partake in some “cyber” sex...

pairing; jeon jungkook x reader  genre/warnings;  smut, fluff, skype sex, or as oc puts it, cybersex, sex toy usage (here 😘) words; 3,038

more﹆chapter index

“Are your parents in bed?” 

On the screen, Jungkook looked a little on edge, jittery almost. Like he was doing something illegal. 

“My dad is. Mom’s downstairs catching up on soap operas.” 

He still looked a little unsure. “How was your day?” 

You shifted on your bed, crossing your legs, your laptop jumped slightly, pixelated Jungkook bouncing around for a second. Internet at your parents’ house had always been shitty but he still made a bunch of cute pixels. 

“I’d love to small talk, Jungkook, I really would, but I woke up wanting sex and have been horny ever since.” 

You were expecting him to log on all eager and possibly already halfway to naked, but he’d appeared in sweats, back against the headboard of your shared bed, legs stretched out where laptop you was placed on his thighs. 

You watched him hesitate and grew annoyed. “What happened to being up for this?” 

This afternoon he’d been eager, possibly even cocky when you’d texted him over lunch. Your mom gossiping in your ear about her co-worker’s so called affair while you passively listened and arranged sex plans with your boyfriend...

There had been a time you were too embarrassed to even think about masturbating in your family home, but like Jungkook kept saying, you were a grown ass woman now, not still in high school or even in college. Those days had long past you by. You were a hot blooded female with needs. Needs for your super hot, super sweet boyfriend. There was really no need to be ashamed. You were going to participate in some cyber sex, no matter how much Jungkook laughed at your awkward phrasing. 

[You: 01:34pm]  Are you busy tonight? 

[JK: 01:36pm]  if eating cheetos in bed by 8 is busy then yes 

[You: 01:37pm]  Don’t you dare bitch 

[JK: 01:37pm]  why do you want to know if im busy? 

[You: 01:38pm]  cybersex 2300 hours 

[JK: 01:38pm]  Cybersex 😭😭 no one calls it that weirdo  but see you there my morning wood misses yoir ass 

Here right now, Jungkook made a noise, arguing with you. “I am up for this. It’s just your parents...” 

You rolled your eyes. He was a grown ass man and he was afraid of your parents. More so your dad. He’d taken a while to warm up to Jungkook—you blame the tattoos. But that was years ago when you’d first started dating. Your dad liked Jungkook now. Honest. 

“My dad’s asleep. I can hear him snoring,” you commented, giggling. 

Jungkook groaned. Way to ruin the mood, he was probably thinking. “That doesn’t help.” 

“Come ooonnn,” you whined, leaning into the screen. You knew your robe was dipping in the middle, already tied deliberately lose. He had a great view of your cleavage, however muted because of the shitty lamp lighting. “I miss youuuu.” 

Jungkook scoffed quietly. “And you’re making it worse. I wanna touch you for real.” He was speaking low, pouting really, but you caught his hand that slid across the front of his sweatpants. Was that some inconspicuous rubbing you’d spotted? Naughty. 

You leant back again and tried not to grin in triumph. Jungkook 0, your tits 1 once again. 

He carried on his rant. “I want you in this bed. In this house. I can’t wait 4 more days!” 

Diddums. He was a child, you swore. “Should’ve come with me then.” 

He was rubbing his crotch again, you didn’t think he realised he was doing it. “You know that’s only reserved for a Christmas every two years.” 

Yeah, like you said, he was terrified of your father. It was probably why he hadn’t proposed yet, too scared to ask for your dad’s blessing. Not that you would say that to his face. And not like you wanted to get married anytime soon, it was just only natural to think of those things. You had been together for years after all. 

You didn’t reply, instead shifting on the bed once more to spread your legs a little. You hiked one up, robe falling open to reveal the triangle of skin between your legs. You meant business.

“What’re you doing?” He practically stuttered, sitting up straighter against the headboard.

“I’m not wearing any underwear.” 

“I can see that.” 

You began to rub the pad of your index finger across your clit. Sensitivity shocking your body and you fought with yourself not to snap your legs closed. You softened the impact, slowly circling before slipping down your folds and collecting the moisture to drag back up to your clit. Agonisingly slow now because you wanted to tease the hell out of your boyfriend. Despite the near darkness, he had eyes like a hawk. “You’re wet already.” Maybe he could see it glistening through the camera. Or maybe he was just starting his descent…

“Like I said, I’ve been horny since this morning.” You ever so slightly dipped the tip of your finger inside yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d played with yourself like this in front of him. It was fun. Especially because he was hanging onto each movement like his life depended on it. 

“Jungkook,” you nudged. 

“Mm?” It was just one sound, too far gone now. 

You murmured the next part, voice low and heavy, laced with a desperateness you’d felt all day. “Get your dick out.”

He didn’t argue. You let yourself grin in victory, ogling him as pushed a hand into his sweatpants and pulled out that thick, hot cock you’d been fantasising about since 7am. 

He ran his fist along it, definitely not lazily. Tugging at the head, his thumb rubbed the drops of precum across his slit. You clenched and pulsed down below. Unfair move. Your image of him was grainy and unlit but he looked just as hot as he always did. Maybe it was time to unveil your secret weapon... 

“Goodnight, love.” 

You jumped immediately at the sound of your mom’s voice, hand jerking away from between your legs. You’d been so distracted you hadn’t even heard her coming up the stairs. 

Your took a quick breath and tried to sound normal, praying you could keep your voice level. “Goodnight mom!” You succeeded, but only just you were sure of it. 

You heard the click of the bathroom door and turned your attention back to Jungkook, eyes wide. His were too. “Jesus christ,” he muttered, sounding annoyed. “This was a dumb idea.” He was sat forward, dick back in his pants, tops of his cheeks rosy, either from the jerking off or the near close call. Probably both. 

You tried to refrain from giggling but failed. “She wasn’t going to just barge in here.” 

Both waiting a few seconds, it wasn’t long before your mom exited the bathroom and shut the door to her bedroom. You untied your robe, relaxing into the bed instantly. You weren’t losing this moment. 

Jungkook groaned slightly, eyes apprehensively raking over your practically naked body. “This is so wrong.” 

“Relax, we’re alone,” you insisted. “Just remember to be quiet.” You’d use your earphones but you’d forgotten them, remembering as soon as you’d boarded the plane. 

“I’m alone.” He corrected, now sounding sorry for himself. Jeez, it was as if you weren’t spread out like a human buffet. “I miss you. Can’t you come home right now?”

Jungkook did not do well at being alone at all. It was cute. You smiled at him softly, running your hand down your stomach and between your legs. “But I wanna cum right nowww.” 

“Fine.” His stare hardened, watching the way you rubbed at the bundle of nerves. “You cum and then come home. Then I fuck you. Properly. None of this Skype shit.” 

You laughed, genuinely amused. He was such a baby. You watched him lift his t-shirt over his head. Taking initiative, you liked that. His hair fell in his eyes and he shook it away. He’d finally had a haircut a few weeks ago, but it grows fast, which was possibly a good thing because you really, really missed that long hair of his. 

Your eyes fell down to his chest and across his shoulders. He had a few tattoos that decorated his torso, amongst other places, but they mainly covered his arms. Speaking of which you clenched and pulsed again, just imagining those arms wrapped around you, squeezing you tight, hands pinning you to the bed... Shit. You really wanted to fuck him for real. 

You splayed around against the bedsheets, arching your back a little and Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Take your robe off. Keep your bra on.” He sounded demanding, it wasn’t intentional, lost to the urge right now as usual, but you loved it when he ordered you about, even more so when he didn’t realise he was doing it. 

You quickly got to it, snapping at your bra straps as you lied back down, propped up by your elbows. “Is this actually sexy?” You’d done this a handful of times but that was back in college. Now older, it seemed more daunting. 

“Of course it is, babe,” Jungkook reassured. On cue he got his cock out again. He was still hard. 

You watched him rake his hand along himself a few times and then grinned. “I have something.” 

He raised an eyebrow again, curious but also clueless, and watched you pull something out from under the sheets. A glittery, rubbery thing that made his eyes light up. 

“You brought a dildo to your parents’ house?” He asked after a split second of silence. You nodded, biting down on your lip, holding the specimen up to the screen. He caught the look on your face and chuckled. “You planned this?” He sounded impressed. 

“Thought it would be fun.” You tried to sound casual but maybe you were a little nervous? Embarrassed? There was no need to be. You’d had a sexual fantasy and had acted on it... Jungkook was just as into it. Hm, maybe it was the being naked over cam that was making you feel so jittery? 

Jungkook eyed Miss Jessica Rabbit and laughed again. “Only you would arrange a visit to your parents’ place just so we could participate in some ‘cybersex’.” 

Joking aside, he was eager to begin. You could tell by the look in his eyes and by the way he’d straightened his back, leaning in closer for a better look. You didn’t feel nervy anymore. You were back in the zone. 

“Cybersex sounds cool, I don’t know why you find it so funny.” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes affectionately. “You’re adorable, that’s why I find it so funny.” 

“Lameee.” You sang. But now you were running the head of the vibrator along your slit, spreading your legs in the process.

Jungkook watched you carefully, still stroking his dick with leisure. “I’m surprised you didn’t get caught at security with that thing.” He was making casual conversation but his voice sounded strained. He kept having to swallow. “Hiding a giant vibrator in your clothing.” 

“Can you imagine?” You’d die of embarrassment right there on the spot. 

“I‘d come bail you out, don’t worry.” 

You giggled at his silliness. Who was going to tell him you couldn’t get arrested for carrying a vibrator in your luggage? 

However, soon the mood for small talk was over, only distracting at this point. Or maybe what was distracting was now the vibrator beginning to stretch out your insides. It was a little uncomfortable at first, maybe you were just too well aware your parents were a few feet away, or maybe you were just out of practice when it came to fucking yourself. 

Jungkook helped though, whispering encouragements and giving you useful tips, which only made you wetter; so yes, a huge help. It wasn’t long before you got a rhythm going, not long before your breathing quickened and you were trying really hard not to moan out loud. 

Jungkook matched your movements, now jerking himself off with vigour. You watched one another, fully at ease and lost in your own little world. 

“This is so unfairrr,” he grunted soon enough, burning a hole between your legs. His newly sworn enemy, Miss Jessica Rabbit. “I want my dick inside you, not some phoney.” 

You moaned quietly, agreeing of course. Nothing felt as good as Jungkook inside you. Nothing ever had. You clicked a button on the toy and the first level of vibrations started. 

You lifted your head a little, trying to gauge the sound. “Is that too loud?” 

He shook his head. “I think you’re good. Fuck.” He cursed because you were now grinding up against the ears of the bunny, vibrations against your clit sending you all gooey and warm. “Go faster.” 

You listened, the length of the vibrator now slipping in fully as your insides finally loosened up, no longer tense. You rolled to your side a little and like that you found your g-spot. Pleasure began to burst behind your eyes and you almost forgot Jungkook was there because now you’d remembered how to use this damn thing and there was no going back. 

You clicked another button, powering up the shaft as the pearls inside the rubber began to rotate. You bit down on your lip, desperate not to make a sound and you cursed yourself. Why did you think this was a good idea? Pleasure screamed at you but you must keep quiet. 

“Babe... Baby,” Jungkook was trying to get your attention. “Baby, get on your back again. I wanna see.” 

You slowly listened, knowing you had been restricting his view and try to fuck yourself on your back. You planted your feet on the bed, kicking the laptop to the centre in the process and hoped now that he had a good view. 

Whatever he saw, he liked, moaning maybe a little bit too loudly. You’d turn the volume down if you could move, but you can’t, too paralysed with pleasure. “This is so fucking hot.” He was legit growling, it sent a fire through your veins. 

He watched you buck your hips into the vibrator over and over again, struggling a little to keep thrusting the shaft inside of you, but you think he found that hot. You were close. You knew it. Lips spread apart, your clit was swollen and greedy for pleasure, sensitive to the titillating vibrations and your walls squeezed and began to spasm around the thick rubber, the rotating sensation you felt making you tremble all over. Your wrist hurt but it was a good kind of pain, burning, making you work hard for your release. 

“Wish you were here to fuck me better, baby,” you purred, because despite how amazing this felt Jungkook could make you feel a pleasure ten times greater. “Does your hand feel good?“

You couldn’t see him, flat on your back, eyes shut, face directed at the ceiling, but you could hear the sound of skin on skin. His palm raking up and down the rock hard flesh of his cock. 

“Don’t rub it in,” he chided, voice low. Ha. Because that was exactly what he was doing. Luckily you were too out of breath to drop a shit pun. 

Your lower half suddenly spasmed and you stifled a cry. You couldn’t hold on any longer. “Shit,” you gasped. “I forgot how strong this thing was.” 

“Yeah? I’ll cum if you cum.” 

That’s all you needed to hear. It wasn’t even five seconds later before you were coming. Like an explosion, thigh and vagina muscles clenching, toes curling into the sheets and your chest heaving, sweat beading at your hairline. Miraculously you managed to stay silent. Albeit your breathing. You ceased movement immediately, removing the pressure against your clit before turning the vibrations off. The shaft was still rotating inside you, nerves twitching in your thigh before you ended those too and slid the vibrator out with a silent pop. You threw it to your side. Your whole body tingled but you urged yourself to come to, to open your eyes and lean up on your elbows. Jungkook still needed to cum and you wanted to watch. Just like he watched you. 

“Good, baby?” He asked. His eyes were black, breathing shallow. His fist still tugged at his dick, desperate now. 

“Mm hm,” you nodded, feeling a little chilly now the thrill had worn off. 

Jungkook grunted a command. “Spread your legs a little. I’m close.” You listened without question, giving him what he wanted. 

You watched the veins protrude from his forearms, some painted black with the ink of his tattoos. The hand not wrapped around his cock cupped his balls ever so slightly, tugging on them a little before he tensed and groaned. The first spurt of cum shot out and landed on his stomach, then another, it slipped into the lines of his abs. The third load slowed and he tugged his fingers tight across the tip, over and over again, draining each drop. It thickened in the air and slid down his length, getting on his fingers too. You observed all this greedily. What a sight to behold. 

A couple of tissues later for him and your robe tied back around your body, you were both grinning and giggling like a pair of idiots together, still on a high. 

“We need to incorporate that into the real deal more,” Jungkook said, referring to the vibrator now stood on your bedside table. “Let me be in charge.” 

“It’s got to make its way back home first,” you joked. 

You had climbed into bed by now, welcoming the warmth and annoyingly your eyes started to feel heavy. 

“You tired?” Jungkook noticed straight away. 

“I can stay up a little longer,” you insisted, wanting to chat with him before you fell asleep. A text or a phone call just wasn’t the same, and even though it’s only been a few days, you missed him like crazy. “What did you eat for dinner?” You asked, making small talk. 

He raised both eyebrows, eyes wide. “Do you really want me to answer that?” 

No, probably not. You knew the answer already. 

It was always a ramen diet for Jungkook when you were away...  

Written 2020. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2020

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:flll

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 25

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger

Nothing to do but talk.

Martin and Jon settle in for a movie night.

The documentary, if it could be called that, was absolute bunk.

Littered throughout were vague interviews and wild assumptions on the part of the very on-screen director, all tied together with a final push for people to purchase a very specific brand of smoke detector. And the low quality of the video couldn’t be blamed solely on Martin’s internet.

They watched the thing from start to finish, though, and by the end of its 70-minute runtime (“I should’ve guessed by how short it was,” Jon had grumbled partway through) their viewing had turned primarily to Jon taking the piss out of it. Academically, of course.

On Martin’s end the film itself was bad in an enjoyable way, and while he didn’t have the context for all of Jon’s complaints it was easy for him to listen. He’d even made some jokes that got Jon to snort.

He did have to sit uncomfortably straight to keep from leaning against each other. Jon had turned it a bit so they could both see, but when viewed from too hard an angle the picture looked even worse. So, Martin did his best to give Jon space and not let the effort distract him from the screen.

All of this being true, Martin was grateful for the horrible film. Nothing filled silence better than movies and television, so the nights following they settled into a routine. Someone would make dinner (with no further… outbursts) and then they would find something to watch. Afterwards they would say goodnight and Martin would escape upstairs to decompress with his little notebook.

Jon’s original idea had been to find something related to their goals. However, after another let down on night two involving a very old retrospective on the mid-century fishing industry (“Wrong century,” Martin had said about five minutes in), Jon dropped the idea, thus opening up a whole new world of cable television and old vhs tapes on night three.

“You bought yourself a laptop but never had a dvd player?” Jon yawned, getting comfortable on his side of the couch. 

“We sort of… skipped it?” Martin dug through a box of tapes for something worth watching, sifting through sappier options and 80s action flicks alike. “Dunno how, but we never got one. The laptop ended up being the first thing I ever had to play dvds, but the telly is too old to be hooked up to it. S’fine, though. I like tapes.”

“And you never get bored of it? Flipping between tapes and whatever’s on at a given time?”

Martin rolled his eyes. “I have a phone for other stuff, obviously. To be honest I don’t watch a lot to begin with, nothing new anyway.”

“Hmph. Same for me,” Jon conceded, sinking further into the couch. “Feels like there are other things I could be doing.”

“Except for now?”

A wry smile. “Special case.”

Martin’s stomach did a flip. He didn’t feel guilty, per se, but he wished he had something for Jon to work on to stave off the boredom. Everything had been so quiet with Peter gone and Simon’s waiting that no new leads had popped up. It wasn’t fair that Jon had to sit around doing nothing after wandering about in the sea for weeks. The least he could do was provide some entertainment.

“Hm. Right, how about this one?” Martin looked back and waved a vhs set. It was some old fantasy series with a group of children on the cover standing in a hallway. “Haven’t watched it since I was a kid, but I remember liking it.”

“Two tapes’ worth?” Jon glanced up at the ceiling. “It’s in episodes, right?”

“Yeah, though if you’d rather find something else…?”

Jon waved his hand. "No, I can’t spend the whole evening making up my mind. If we don’t like it, then we can find something else.”

With that settled Martin popped the tape in and took up his seat. On the other end, Jon sat with the blanket pulled to his chest. He wore a new set of pyjamas Martin had picked up at the shop along with a few other things to save Jon from having to wear the same clothes day and night. 

The show was a simple series meant for children, easy enough to follow in plot that some side chatter didn’t interrupt things too much. Honestly, Martin was glad they weren’t paying a whole lot of attention. He hadn’t watched it in years and wasn’t looking to be embarrassed.

A few minutes in, the children from the cover were running up the stairs to explore a large house. “Safe to assume you don’t have siblings?” Jon asked.

“Hm? Oh, no, it’s just me. You?”

He snorted. “Even if my grandmother wanted another child running around, I was enough to deal with.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “What, were you a terror?”

“I’d use the word ‘adventurous’, but she would’ve agreed with that description. If we’d been in that house,” Jon gestured toward the screen, “she would’ve been in trouble. Until it ate me or something.”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes?” 

Jon frowned. “That’s- No, I mean if it were real it would probably mean harm. Supernatural houses aren’t trustworthy entities outside of fiction. In fiction they’re mischievous at the least.”

“Can’t imagine that, a building that likes to mess with you,” Martin said, grimacing. He really didn’t remember much about this story. Maybe that was how it went? “I’m sure they’ll be fine. I wasn’t into spooky things back then.”

“I’ll take your word for it, but I’m not letting my guard down,” Jon said. He watched as the children walked up a spiral staircase. “Would you have wanted siblings?”

Martin considered this. “I can’t imagine having them? But an older sibling would’ve been nice. Someone to know better and help me with things.”

“I think any other child would’ve found me irritating, older or younger. Best to keep to myself,” Jon said dryly. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes, you can imagine the additional worry of raising a child who could explore the ocean like it was the woods. It’s not like she could follow me in.”

“I bet… She wasn’t like you, then?”

Turning back to the television, Jon said, “No. She was from my father’s side.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t tell if the question was wrong to ask, so looked back to the show. It was luck of the draw, then, whether someone was born with a selkie skin. Perhaps there was nothing to do with genetics in circumstances like this.

Back on the screen, one of the children had chosen to wander outside into the beginnings of a snowstorm with no thought to the cold. Outside the real world window it had begun to hail, and Martin realized how frigid it had become both outdoors and in.

“Well, at least this story is right for the season,” Martin said, standing up. “I’m gonna grab another blanket.”

With a start, Jon looked at him and held up the one he was under. “Do you want this one? I don’t-”

“N-no, that’s fine!” He walked briskly out of the room, feeling rude and stupid. All Jon had offered was for him to use the damned thing, not share it. And it wouldn’t have fit both of them even if he had meant it that way!

Opening the hall closet, he tried to calm down. He peered at the pile of folded sheets and blankets, lifting each layer to search for one he liked. There was a flannel one somewhere, deceptively warm for how thin it was-

Oh.

Tucked far down into the pile, far back enough so it was hidden if the one above wasn’t lifted, Martin saw something dappled and grey and out of place amongst the linen. Jon had left it to dry completely beforehand, so the surrounding fabric was unwrinkled. Considerate. And in a decent hiding place all things considered. It was a shame Martin had gone and ruined it.

He sighed, grabbing one of the blankets at the top that he’d initially passed on. Once he reached the doorway to the living room, he stopped and stared at Jon who was doing his best to seem unperturbed.

“So, I saw it,” he started, squeezing the blanket in his arms into his chest. “I use that closet a lot, if you want to put it somewhere else.”

Jon winced and stood. As Martin let him pass, he mumbled, “Right. I’ll just-” 

And then Martin was left to sit back on the couch and wait, pausing the tape out of courtesy. 

When the skin had disappeared from the shower that first morning he hadn’t considered anything but Jon hiding it, and there was an awful satisfaction in knowing he was right. He rubbed his arm and stared at the blanket in his lap, still neat and folded. 

After a couple of minutes, Jon returned empty handed and resumed his seat. Pulling his blanket back up, he said, “It’s nothing… personal.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath and pressed play on the old remote, letting the child continue their new solo adventure. “I figured you hid it.”

“I appreciate that you told me.” His voice was stilted and unsure. “That you found it.”

“Sure, whatever helps.” Unfolding the blanket, he pulled it up to his shoulders and leaned on the arm rest. He could feel Jon fidgeting in place, turning the blanket so it faced the right way and making it tuck under him in the right places. Martin kept his eyes ahead.

Finally giving up on any further adjustments, Jon slouched into place. “It does help. I know my caution can come off as distrust, but genuinely I just… I need to keep it hidden. I need to know where it is and to be the only one who does. For now.”

“You… don’t need to justify anything.” Martin sighed and had to fight back a yawn. “It’s your coat.”

A grunt of frustration. “No, you don’t- It’s not a rational thing. I trusted you enough to tell you the truth, and yet I was barely into my first night here before I panicked and stowed it away.” He sat upright and let the blanket fall to his lap, quiet distress written across the lines of his forehead.

Grasping for words, Martin said, “You still haven’t known me that long. It’s not wrong to be careful.”

“That’s not the point,” Jon replied quietly, resting elbows on knees. “It hasn’t been all that long in the grand scheme of things, but a lot has happened. I consider you a friend. And yet I can’t stop feeling like everything is about to go wrong if I’m not careful.”

The hail continued to slam against the window, almost overpowering the sound of the television and the faun describing the witch’s plans. On the far side of the couch, Jon remained hunched over his own knees with his face bent in irritation. 

A wave of shame broke against him, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. Carefully, Martin scooted over just enough to reach out a hand. His trembling fingers hovered just an inch away, brushing against the fabric of Jon’s shirt before coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Jon whispered, massaging around his eyes with his fingers. He reached his free hand up to tentatively cover Martin’s, giving it a tiny squeeze. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Do you… want to keep watching?”

Jon nodded, shaking himself out a little. Martin released the gentle grip on his shoulder, though he didn’t move away. They both settled into the back of the couch and watched.

The child had gone back inside with the shivers, but no one was to be found. Around the halls she wandered, calling her siblings’ names with indignation that slowly turned to concern and then to fear. Eventually she was running, and it wasn’t until she was on the upper floor that one of her brothers popped out to scare the living daylights out of her. 

Deep down he remembered this part making him cry. Perhaps siblings weren’t worth it with how cruel children could be. 

Martin coughed. “You explored the sea as a kid, then?”

Jumping slightly, Jon said, “O-only a couple of times. And not far from the land. And it’s not as fun when you can only grab one thing at a time, with your mouth. I sorely missed my pockets and picking up sticks.” As he spoke, he resumed the more casual tone from before with modest success. 

“You thought checking out the sea with no real limits was too much of a hassle?”

With a roll of his eyes, Jon said, “It wasn’t entirely that. Eventually my grandmother warned me away from it. Told me about dangerous animals that absolutely weren’t native to the coast where we lived.” 

“Great white sharks?”

“Surrounding our seaside village on every watery side, ready to eat hapless little seal boys who didn’t listen to their nans.”

Martin chuckled, relaxing further into his seat and listening to Jon go on about all the ways his grandmother had tried and failed to reign him in. He could see it, a younger, scrappier version of the man next to him stomping around the woods and climbing fences. 

The instinct wasn’t all that relatable to someone like Martin who’d kept to the front porch on nice days, but it sounded like an adventure. Maybe it meant he was less likely to get eaten by an evil wardrobe out of the two of them. In his position he could only hope that was the case.

They called it for the night when, out of nowhere, a man suddenly appeared at half opacity screen and let out a screeching noise to close out an episode, making Jon laugh in a way that only could’ve been from exhaustion. 

Martin lingered downstairs for a while after they shut the television off. It was Friday, after all. For many reasons they couldn’t go out to a pub, but without the need to get up early he could afford to stay up a little longer and listen to a sleepy Jon talk over the tapping on the window panes.

--

Tim: not next weekend, but the one after i think. finally time to call it on preparation and get down to business, if this is something we can be prepared for

Martin: encouraging

Tim: look its been rough over here, alright? 

Martin: i know, sorry. itll be easier to talk once we’re all in one place 

Tim: yeah

Tim: things are ok over there, then? youre sounding better

Martin: ?

Tim: it was starting to get scary if im honest, how quiet you were

Martin: oh, sorry. things are fine, just didnt have a lot to say

Tim: yeah, i get it. its hard to fill the space. dont be a stranger though. in a few weeks we’ll be there to get you out of this mess

Martin: looking forward to it

Sighing, Martin looked from the private chat to Jon, who was ignoring his breakfast to type away at the laptop. “Sounds like the others are making plans to get here.”

Jon looked up briefly. “Good. It will be… nice to see them.”

“And show them you’re not dead?”

Ignoring this, Jon said, “How is Tim doing?”

He glanced back at his phone. “Worried. About a lot of things, I think.”

“Thinking of how he’s going to break my disappearance to you, no doubt,” he said, taking a sip of his tea. He avoided Martin’s eyes. “That’ll be resolved soon enough.”

Martin poked at the eggs on his plate. “He… lost someone, didn’t he?”

It was only for a moment, but Jon froze in the middle of setting his mug down. He seemed to struggle with an answer.

“It’s fine if you can’t say, but he implied as much,” Martin said gently.

With a frown, Jon shut the laptop. “Sasha knows more than I do, but yes. His brother, a few years ago.”

“Oh. That’s… really sad.” He leaned back in his chair. “He seems like he’d be a good brother.”

“I’m sure he was. He certainly looks out for us.” Jon took a bite of his toast.

“As best as he can,” Martin added sheepishly. 

“Once this is all finished he’s earned a vacation.”

Yes, they’d all given poor Tim their share of heart attacks. Martin had managed to several times in the last month. But at least when the time came Tim would see that both of them were alive and themselves and able to apologize for making his and Sasha’s lives just a bit harder than they needed to be.

Once it was all finished.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #selkie au

[with-paint]

Not Alone

Part 1 of 2 of Whatever the Outcome Series

Rating: Teen and up

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,555

Summary: Lip needs your help to convince Amanda to speak to the board regarding the picture she leaked of Helene, and you’re coming for blood

Warning: lots of swearing, blood, broken nose, slut shaming (kinda)

A/N: Okay so clearly I’m watching Shameless and writing Fics as I go. I know I got problems. That’s on meeee. I’ve never written for Lip so don’t @ me if it’s ooc. Set in 6x06. Part 2

A series of knocks on your dorm room door made you sit up blearily. The mid afternoon sun streamed into your room and you looked over at your roommates bed. It was empty. The incessant knocking turned into frantic pounding as the door remained unanswered. Yawning and stretching you stumbled out of bed, ready to cuss out whoever decided it was a good idea to wake you up.

“Alright shit what do you want?!” You hissed throwing the door open. Lip Gallagher stood there, he ran a hand over his mouth and jaw and let out a heavy breath.

“Y/N fuck can you come with me to talk to Amanda about Helene? Amanda’s always liked you. Maybe she’ll listen if you come.” He rushed out looking behind his shoulder to her dorm room.

You blinked at him and sighed deeply. This was about the pictures of Professor Runyon, of fucking course it was.

“She’s scared of me idiot. Alright fine. Let me put some pants on.” You sighed out and turned away from him. Tugging a random pair from your floor, you shoved them on and turned back to Lip. Usually he’d make some comment about your constant state of half nakedness, but not today. He was standing in your doorway, eyes staring at the floor. His thumb traced his lips. You couldn’t help but notice how bright his blue eyes looked. They always got this way when he was stressed. Something you always thought was both incredibly endearing as well as so fucking sad.

Usually eyes get brighter when their owner is happy and carefree. Not with Lip. The poor boy only knows the feeling of stress so his anatomy worked around it.

You smiled softly and put a hand on his shoulder, scaring him out of his panicked silence.

“It’s gonna be alright. We’ll fix this. It’s gonna be alright Lip.” You murmured rubbing, what you hoped, was soothing circles into his tense shoulder. He let out a deep breath and allowed himself five seconds to calm down before his eyes snapped open and he pulled away from you abruptly.

“Alright let’s go.” His voice was still rushed, but not nearly as fast. He jogged over to Amanda’s dorm room, looked over at you for confirmation, and began banging on her door as loudly as he had yours.

You let out a little laugh and slammed your open palm on the door next to his, yelling at Amanda to open the fuck up.

“Open up Amanda.” He called and you kept your knocking up to keep the noise loud and clear for this horrible person. “Look just tell the board you made a mistake.” Lip called again.

You kicked the door and yelled your own plea to get her to open up, “Say you’re a jealous cunt and you didn’t mean to get her in trouble.” Lip looked at you with an eyebrow raised. You only shrugged and kicked away at her door again before it swung open.

Amanda stood in all her stuck up glory, holding two bags and looking down on the both of you. You wanted to deck her on sight. You never liked her and when you found out she was the one to send out the picture because her itty bitty heart had been broken, you were halfway across campus to break her arm before Lip caught you and carried your swearing form back to your room. You kept your anger in check this time. This was all Lip’s fight and causing this bitch any pain would only result in more harm done.

You leaned on the door frame as Lip took up most of the space in the doorway to plead with Amanda.

“What board?” Amanda snapped looking between the two of you. “Y/N why the fuck are you here?” She huffed.

“Like the committee, the provost.” Lip cut in before you could make a wise ass comment and make Amanda even less likely to help you two out.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” She said and had the audacity to seem irritated with this conversation. You forced down a snarl.

“What do you mean? They didn’t ask you to come in?” You hissed instead. There was no way she was getting out of the mess she created without having any repercussions.

“Nope. Excuse me.” She said dismissing you and attempted to push past you two, but you stepped forward and crowded her, she took a step back and turned to Lip with a sigh.

“Okay, wait, then, then make a statement or post a retraction somewhere.” Lip stuttered looking frantically between the both of you.

“Where?” She demanded.

“Online!” Lip exclaimed, sounding as panicked as he looked. You pursed your lips and crossed your arms. If she kept this “holier than thou” attitude up you were going to make her bleed.

“Do you actually not understand how the Internet works?” Amanda spat. You took a step forward, read to level her only to have Lip pull you back by the waist.

“I don’t care how it works, okay! Helene could lose her job!” Lip shouted before his voice faltered at the end. He squeezed your stomach as a grounding point and you stayed still. Letting him have an anchor in his panic. Amanda jumped in at the sign of weakness.

“Well, maybe she should have thought about that before she started banging her students! And maybe you should learn how to treat the girls that you sleep with better. Ever heard of the campsite rule?” You wanted to punch her right in her snotty nose. You completely agreed with her, but making the dig about how Lip treated people was too far. Amanda knew damn well all she was was a fuck buddy and she created this fantasy of a boyfriend in her mind. It wasn’t Lip’s fault, it was hers.

“The what?” You spoke up, an eyebrow raised as you challenged her. Lip sighed sounding dejected.

“Leave the area in better shape than you found it, asshole. Move.” She spat and knocked her shoulder aggressively into Lip.

“Wait wait wait.” He cried letting go of you to block her path.

“Give me a break.” She whined doing all but stomping her foot down.

“Where are you going?” You said interrupting her tantrum. She huffed and looked down at her bags.

“The Feminazis are after me. Accused me of trying to destroy a high-status female because I’ve internalized my own gender oppression. Two thousand comments on my Facebook page, including death threats. My parents want me to leave campus until it blows over. You’re on your own, Lip.” She turned the lights off in her room before facing Lip again.

She smiled sickly and hissed out. “But then again I guess you always were.”

You sucked in a deep breath, shoved Lip out of the way, and slammed your forehead into Amanda’s nose. Her glasses fell off as she doubled over, gripping her nose in shock and pain. A scream came out of her mouth as she stumbled back into her dorm. You made a move to lunge at her before Lip’s arms grabbed you by the midsection again and hauled you back.

“Y/N that’s enough!” He yelled as you tried to kick out from his hold. Wanting nothing more than to get your hands on the now fake blonde cunt who ruined two peoples lives with her bullsht jealousy. You didn’t like Helene either, fuck you might’ve even hated her. But Lip was falling for her and she made him incredibly happy. So you kept your mouth fucking shut.

“You send out a statement to the board right now you bitch!” You snarled watching as she cried hysterically, her tears mixing in with the blood gushing from her nose. It was now crooked and you stared at her broken nose for as long as possible. Wanting this to be what you remembered when you thought of the fucking skank. The damage she deserved from your own hands.

Lip yanked you as he walked backwards. “Amanda shit, I gotta go!” He yelled as you kicked and flailed, your feet off the ground as Lip hauled you away from his former fuck buddy. He kicked open your door and dumped you on your bed. You scrambled off it and made for the door before Lip was on you again. He forced you back on the bed and straddled you to keep you down.

“Hey hey hey that’s enough! You broke her fucking nose I think you did enough!” Lip sighed and rested his head by your elbow. “We’re fucked. It’s over.”

He sounded so broken as he rolled off you and lay face first in your pillow. All the anger in your body melted out as you took in the sad dejected boy curled up next to you. You ran your hand through his hair and sighed.

“Lip I’m so sorry.” He didn’t say anything just laid there letting you comfort him.

You didn’t know how this would end. Didn’t know if Lip would get expelled or Professor Runyon would lose her job. But you knew whatever the outcome, you were going to be there in Lips corner. Because what Amanda said was dead wrong. Lip wasn’t alone. And he never had been.

#lip gallagher #lip Gallagher x reader #shameless (us) #shameless #shamless #Amanda shameless #Lip Gallagher college #Lip Gallagher x reader #Lip Gallagher one shot #Lip Gallagher angst #lip gallagher fluff #Lip Gallagher