#okay I looked up the flag and why does it slap so hard

[dorayakichan]

tysm for responding!! may I request dating & smut (only if you are okay with the topic) hcs for wooin & joker (I love them both sooo much) take your time & thank you! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Pairing: Joker x Fem bodied!Reader, Wooin x Fem bodied!Reader

Genre: smut, headcanons

cw: MDNI, sub!reader, fingering, oral, rough, squirting.

a/n: Thank you for the request, here it finally is and I hope you like it!

Wooin

Being in a relationship with Wooin is not only hard but near to impossible. You sometimes ask yourself why are you even enduring all of this, why are you still with him?

He is not the kind of person who will put your needs above his, yeah he does care about you but he cares about himself more than anything else.

You’re going to ask what’s wrong with that? Well, there is quite a lot starting with the fact that he doesn’t care where you are, how you are feeling, or what you are doing. If he wants to meet you you will always have to make time for him. 

To add to that he shows no affection at all be it when he is in a good or bad mood the only thing he ever does is tease you and get on your nerves. Or going on dates…. When was the last time you both went on a proper date? Right, you can’t even remember it anymore. 

 Well, you decided to ignore those red flags when you first started dating him so you have to accept the consequences of that now. 

You have more than once gone to meet him with the intention of breaking up and well all those times he has been able to change your mind because there is one thing Wooin is good at and you have to accept you enjoy it so much that it makes it impossible for you to break up with him…and that is…the way he pleasures you.

There is something so addictive about those moments when Wooin with one hand regardless of where you are slowly lowers his hand rubbing through your clothed core, the friction stimulating you as you let out small whimpers. He moves his fingers slowly but addictively, in result making you subconsciously wiggle moving your hips to get more of that friction.

Every time this happens you wish you could slap away that grin on his face as he gets you in an isolated area with no one around, holding onto your hips and then pushing down your panties getting a beautiful view of your glistening pussy, waiting to be devoured by him. 

Your panties are pushed inside one of his jacket pockets never to be returned in the end to their original owner. His eyes never leave yours as his hand moves up and down your thighs, thumbs ultimately resting on your wet core. As he does these he whispers in your ear the filthiest, most degrading things a man can say. Knowing how much that turns you on.

Wooin bents down, facing your dripping pussy as his thumb continues making circles on your clit. He looks up at you, waiting so you can take his glasses. As you do so degrading words come out of his mouth.

Although you wish you could hate it, you can’t when you see Wooin moving up one of your legs, your thigh resting on his shoulder, as he gets larger access to your naked core.

You are always taken by surprise the moment his snake-like tongue touches your area. Maybe it’s the way his tongue has that unique shape, you are not sure but the feeling it gives you is close to divine. In the beginning, he licks you moving all over your uncovered area. Not even leaving one part out. 

Then pulling your cunt closer to his mouth, nose pressed just over your clit as he inhales deep into you, causing a shiver to run through your body. You moan, unable to keep it suppressed anymore.

As if getting the signal he had been waiting for he starts devouring you, pulling you as close as he can. His tongue enters your hole and you feel the metallic touch of his piercing inside of you. He works diligently on you making you a crying mess begging for the release.

As you get closer to it he moves his tongue out and pushes two of his digits in and out of you curling them, while he continues to slurp up on your clit. Your hands grab on his hair, pulling him closer, too lost in the haze of pleasure. 

As if sensing the right time Wooin accelerates his movement bringing you to your orgasm. Your body shakes uncontrollably but is still held in its place as he sucks all the juice dripping down from your legs. 

After that, as every time thing happens you find yourself on his bed being fucked throughout the night and ending up once again losing all your resolve to end things for good with him.

Joker

On the other hand, Joker is quite the opposite of Wooin but not in the ways you would expect him to. It’s not like he is the kind to show affection by making big gestures. In the eyes of others, it might look like he is quite cold to you, but only you can see that he is not.

It’s the way his hand always ends up on your shoulder, waist, or grabbing one of your fingers gently and so lightly holding it. It’s the way he only looks at ease when he can touch a part of you, even if it’s just a strand of your hair. It’s weirdly satisfying to see how he is so dependent on your presence. 

You can understand it even when he is on the ring fighting as soon as his eyes catch yours, you can see relief wash over his body as though your existence in itself brings peace to him. 

He doesn’t say much or compliment you daily, but when he does he makes sure to speak the most heartfelt words to ever exist. His personality is not one of a romantic guy, but strangely enough, everything he does makes the whole atmosphere change into one full of hearts, flowers, and confetti falling over the two of you. It melts you on the spot.

Certainly, there are days when things don’t go well, and when you argue or fight it ends up in a silent war of nerves and giving attitude to each-other. 

If you think he could become violent with you when angry, even when it goes above and beyond his limit, he never touches you. He keeps such cool that would amaze everyone who sees it. 

It’s as if he becomes weak in front of you. 

On the other hand, there is a time when he can definitely get a bit especially when he is angry and that is during sex.

If he is angry he usually lifts you up from where you are and takes you to a motel, his changing room in the underground fighting club, or one of your houses, never anywhere else.

When you hear the click of the door lock that’s when you know you are in for a rough time. He nearly rips your clothes apart leaving you naked in front of him. He turns you around, bending you down as you hold on to the nearest thing you can find. 

He violently rubs your clit pushing his fingers inside and out enough to get you wet and then with no prior warning he pushes his member inside of you causing a squeal to come out of your mouth due to his length. 

His cock moves fast abusing your walls with each powerful push of his hips into you. His arms cage your body pulling it harshly with every move. He pounds and pounds until the only audible sound inside the room is the slapping of your skin with fluids squelching and dripping down on your legs. 

He ends up pushing you and himself to the limit as his tip pounds your cervix monstrously reaching that desirable state of intense pleasure. 

If he has calmed down after that he usually turns into vanilla mode taking care of you and gently entering a second and third time with a much more delicate feeling than the beginning, holding you much more lightly kissing every inch of the skin he previously bruised with his tight grip. 

But if he has not calmed down yet, well the process of ravishing you like a beast continues for hours on end, even when you beg him to stop he does not listen. 

Usually after those nights, you are unable to walk the next day making him feel internally guilty for what he has done. To Joker's luck and surprise, you are never mad although sometimes you ought to be you end up always reassuring him that it was okay.

Let’s accept it you love it too when he roughly manhandles you sometimes how could you ever complain about that in the first place. When you notice his lowered head the morning after, you can’t stop yourself from whispering to him how you are fine and you love him no matter what.

#windbreaker x reader #windbreaker smut #windbreaker webtoon #windbreaker wooin #windbreaker joker #windbreaker joker x reader #windbreaker wooin x reader #smut headcanons #windbreaker characters

[radiant-reid]

Blurb on Derek giving spencer “advice” on

How to swoon reader but when he desperately tries to flirt with reader by acting like Derek the reader is all like “you know you can be yourself right?” This is just so cute and funny to me 😍

Love love love

“I just really want her to like me.” Spencer whines, trying not to look at you from across the bar. It’s basically impossible when you’re so enticing. He can’t help his eyes drifting over to you.

“You have to be smooth then, charm her.” Morgan instructs him. “Flirt with her, play some cat and mouse, touch her a little. You have to make her want you, and before you know it, you’ll have a girlfriend.”

Spencer shakes his head firmly. “I can’t.” Even with two drinks in him, when he’s bolder than usual, there’s no way he can flirt with you. “Seriously. She’ll just think I’m an idiot.”

“No, she won’t, kid,” Morgan reassures him. “I’ll give you some pointers if you want.”

Spencer’s first instinct is to shut him down. He’s never going to be able to get with you so why not try with one of Morgan’s routines. But the longer he thinks about his friend's flirting, the more clear the answer becomes. “Okay.” He agrees. If Morgan’s gotten countless girls to go home with him, something he does must work. “But I’m not baby-girling her.”

“Good. Garcia wouldn’t be happy with you.” Morgan reminds him. “What you need to do is go over there.” He points to the bar where you’re sitting with the girls. “Stand behind her with your arm on one side of her so when you talk, it’s in her ear. Ask her if she wants a drink. Then sit next to her, tap your knees against hers, compliment her and let the conversation go from there. Easy.”

It doesn’t sound easy. “Is that really going to work?” Spencer asks, not wanting to be set up.

Morgan hands him the rest of his beer. “If you drink this, ditch the cardigan, roll up your sleeves, gain some confidence, make eye contact and stop thinking so hard. Also, lower your voice.”

Spencer unhappily gulps down the rest of the beer, grimacing at the taste. He much prefers cocktails with enough sugar in them to make a normal person sick.

Morgan slaps him on the back as he gets up. “Go get the girl, lover boy.”

He’s nervous as he walks over. Although he’s permanently nervous around you. Following Morgan’s instructions, he places her hand on the bar to your right side and hovers behind you.

You don’t expect such a bold move to come from Spencer Reid, but you recognize those forearms and that cologne. “Spencer.” You hum, looking up at him. To your left, JJ and Penelope are watching eagerly.

“Want a drink?” He offers, already flagging down a bartender. His voice does make a noticeable shiver run down your spine.

You order another of what you were drinking and Spencer, much to your surprise, orders a scotch. It’s his own improv move, figuring Morgan doesn’t go around sipping cocktails.

He slides into the seat beside you while your drinks get made, and he spins the chair around so you’re facing him. That was smooth.

He taps his knee against yours, hoping you realize it’s more than just because he’s tall. “Green really is your color.” He says, looking at your olive-colored blouse.

“Thanks.” You reply, slightly suspicious. You hadn’t even realized Spencer noticed things about girls until now.

“It might be my new favorite color now.” He continues, cringing at every word. “Or maybe your eye color.”

You laugh, and he tenses, worried about how you're reacting. "Tell me more." You prompt.

"I'd love to." He agrees. "At mine or yours?"

"How do I know you're not a serial killer?" You ask, leaning closer and grinning.

He frowns at you. "What do you mean? Obviously, I'm not, we work together against serial killers."

"Really? Because I thought maybe you were one of those frat boys." You nod to a group of backward-cap-wearing, colored-shorts kids. "Who definitely have fake IDs."

"What?" He asks again, confused.

You touch his knee lightly with your hand. "Spencer, you know you can be yourself around me, right? I like you, not some really odd persona."

He's blushing, more from your confession than embarrassment. "You like me?" He squeaks.

"I do." You assure him. "Real you, though. Can I have him back?"

"Yes." He nods quickly. "You can."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb

[snowdrop-ivy]

Danger. | I - The meet

a/n: this is a dream that I had which I thought I'll write. I hope you enjoy! also this is fictional so if there's any errors with the timeline, deal with it ig haha hope you like it! This is the first part of this series! Enjoy. lmk what you think.

Brooklyn, New York 1945

Thousands of people waved and cheered with their flag as the Japanese surrendered effectively ending WW2. Crowds and streets are unpassable and stores are closed which made it hard for Anastasia to go home. She vividly remembered that her father warned her about rounding the streets of New York during this time and for that she mentally slapped her head.

She gave everything to push and scream "Excuse me" to get to her home but she is just getting no where. Tired and annoyed, she decided to take a turn when she saw an alley, an empty one. She groaned and shook off the confetti on her dress.

"What would I do now? This is just great! New York, you are great! Oh bloody hell!" She stomped her Prada shoes.

"You okay there?"

"Oh bollocks!" She screamed. She turned around and saw a man leaning on the wall smoking a cigarette.

"Who are you?" Anastasia asked, holding on to her bag which has a pepper spray.

"I should be asking you that," He said, throwing the cigar and walked up to her. "You don't sound like a local to me."

"A local? What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

He grinned. The light gave a way to his features. Ana was gobsmacked when he saw this bloke in bright setting. Her gaze met his shocking blue orbs. He is what her friends say; gorgeous- short ruffled brown hair, his bright blue orbs protected by dark long eyelashes, his plump pink lips complimenting his tan complexion. Although he looked ragged; wearing an open neck top; letting his dog tag hang, and suspenders with a cargo pants.

He looks danger. But Ana hates danger. Yes, she's feisty and mean but she follows the rules, well most of the time she does, but she hates putting herself in places where she doesn't have control.

"Let me guess- you're British?" he asked, still grinning. God, that will be the death of her.

She cleared her throat. "So what if I am?"

He pursed his lips to prevent his laugh coming out. "Where you going?"

"What does have to do with you?"

"What's your name?"

"What's your name?" Ana reiterated, raising her brows.

"Bucky short for Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes," He said, lighting up another cigarette. He took a step back while Ana fanned the smoke away; she hates it. "Now what's yours? And stop answering questions."

"A soldier?! He's a goddamn soldier!?" Ana mentally said. Ana, once again, hates soldier. Soldiers are what killed his sister which is also the reason why they moved from Edinburgh to Brooklyn. She contemplated whether to answer or not but she thought that this will be the last time they'll see each other so why not.

"Ana short for Anastasia Josephine Holmes."

"A pretty name for a pretty girl."

Oh, please! Ana rolled her eyes at the line. How many times has she heard that the moment she stepped into this city that never sleeps.

Bucky laughed when she saw her eyes rolled. He can tell that she has heard that before but the difference now is that he means it. Bucky never thought that someone would go in his way on a day like this. Sure, drunken couples who wish to have a privacy but he never expected that a prim and proper English woman would come on his way, let alone talk to him.

"So... Ana, where are you heading to?" He asked. He noticed that he swayed the smoke so he tossed it on the ground and put his hands on his pockets.

"I was going home."

"Where's that?"

"Why would I tell you?"

This time he let out a laugh. She looked annoyed at him buggering her. This woman is feisty.

Ana raised her brow when he laughed. What is so funny? She looked back and saw people are decreasing. Good, now she can go home.

"I'm gonna go," She said and started walking, trying not to look back and look at his dangerous eyes.

He raised his brows and nodded. "See you around?"

Ana stopped on her tracks and slightly turned, giving her the pleasure to see him last time. "Oh, I hope not."

Bucky laughed louder this time as he watched her getting tangled into the streets of Brooklyn.

He wondered if he'll ever see her face again—her curly waist length auburn hair styled with a bow half up do, her curled eyelashes matched her brown almond eyes, and those lips, oh man, her red heart shaped lips.

Ana sheepishly took of her coat after an exhausting commute to get home. She went straight to kitchen where she was met by her father and brother who was drinking tea.

"Hey," Her father, Truman, greeted her. "Where'd you go?"

"Just took a lap around," She answered and sat with them while she listened to them talk about the nonchalant things boys talk about. Ana drank tea while thinking again, which she should not, about those blue eyes.

And the danger it will bring.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x daughter!reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky fanfic #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes

[me-chubchub]

Warning: This story will contains sensitive language and sexual activities. Minors/Young readers are not allowed.

RED FLAGS CHARACTER

Psychological Disorder - Felonious Activities - Toxic Behavior

EXPLICIT VENEREAL ACT

Contains: whims, threesome, mouth gagging, cunnilingus, degrading.

Disclaimer: The male leads of this have toxic attitude and psychological disorders, if you have an anger management issue you can skip this story.

This story is not suitable for the young readers!!!

The girl is gripping the bed sheet so tight while he's pumping her. She's gasping and her eyes are totally closed.

-Prologue-

He continues pumping her, in and out. He's not satisfied on what he feels right now he needs more and more.

He stops pounding the girls inside and grab his phone.

"Babe, why did you stop?" She asked.

"Wait for a minute" he said.

He called someone before sitting on the couch.

The girl who’s pounding her earlier come to him. He’s still naked. Leaning his back on the couch why his arms are on the arm rest of the couch.

The girl kneels in the front of his cock, she looks at his eyes before sucking his whole cock.

He just closed his eyes and feel the pleasure given by the girl.

"Fuck..." he moans when the girl licks his dick.

The girl starts to move her head up and down. He grabs the girl hair and guide her.

“Good girl, keep going. Baby” he exclaimed as he keep on guiding the girl’s head up and down to his cock.

He's hold became tight and move the girl's head fast. All he got to do is to closed his eyes in pleasure. But not satisfied.

“Ah! Shit!” he exclaimed.

The doorbell ring, sign that there is someone outside. He pulled out her head and walk out to the room to check the main door.

When he opens the door, he smirks to the visitor.

"Come in" he said. The girl come in, he's naked in the front of the another girl. Why embarrassed when they will feast with my body later. They should be thankful after all.

"Why did you call me?" She said while trailing her finger to his cock.

“You know why I call. Don’t be a dumb” he said to her.

The girl smirked at him and continue stroking his cock while looking at him seductively.

"I need more pleasure" he said. The girl’s name Anna came out to the room. (the girl who pleasure him first)

"Who is she babe?" Anna asked then she hugs him from back.

"This is Helen, ex-girlfriend." He coolly said

The girl named Anna can’t react from what her boyfriend said.

“Wait, what did you—” the girl didn’t finish her words when her boyfriend slaps her.

“If you don’t want to, the door is wide open. Leave, I don’t need a kind of slut who’s always complaining” he said in firm voice.

The girl sobs but she holds it, if her boyfriend finds out that’s she’s crying this will be the end of her.

"You're Anna, right?" Helen asked.

"Yeah" the young girl said.

“Just be a good girl so he don’t be mad at you. Okay?” The named Helen whispered to her before licking her earlobe.

"Take off your clothes Helen, so we'll start" he ordered, then Helen do it. She took off her clothes.

He sits on the long sofa in the living room. And he does his position earlier in the couch. Helen and Anna look at each other.

Helen kneels in the front of him while Anna stands in the sofa and positioned herself to his face.

He smirked to his girlfriend before whispering “such a slut.”

Helen starts to lick his cock while he holds the butt of Anna and push it closers to him and start to lick her wet pussy.

Anna moan when his tongue starts to trail her wet pussy. He groans when Helen starts to suck his hard cock. He licks Anna's wet pussy more and when he wants more his tongue enter her pussy.

"Ahh! Shit! More babe! Ah!" Anna moaned so loud.

He smirked at her soaked pussy. Good girl, slut.

Helen sucked his hard stiffened cock that made him groan while eating Anna’s soaked pussy.

He knows that Anna is about to cum cause Anna move her hips in the rhythm of his tongue.

"Ah! Babe keep your tongue fucking me. Yes! I'm c-cuming! Ah!" Anna moaned. And then she explodes her cum inside her boyfriend’s mouth.

Anna sat beside him and start to pleasure herself. He looked at Anna and he smirk when he saw her eyes are closed and lips parted.

Helen continues sucking him while pleasuring herself. He needs more.

"Fuck! Faster slut! Give me more!" he moaned in such pleasure and held Helen’s head burying his long hard cock inside her tight mouth.

He can feel it. He’s cuming. "I'm cuming."

She moves fast but he doesn’t want to cum yet. So, he pulled her heads up.

“Ride my cock, darling.” He ordered her to sit on his shaft.

A long and loud moan echoed through the whole house as she keeps on burying his cock inside her.

"Ah! Fuck! You’re so big!" Helen moaned and she hold his shoulder then move up and down.

His right hand, go down to Anna's wet pussy. And start to play with it. While Helen is pumping up and down. The whole room filled with moans and screams.

Helen and Anna change their position. Helen is now on his side and he start to fingering her. While Anna is on top him bouncing up and down to his shaft.

They moaned and pleasured themselves. Anna explodes and Helen too. He pulled out his shaft to Anna and explode his cum to Anna's breast.

They are all exhausted. But his cock is still hard.

"Anna go home its 8am in the morning, Your parents might worried of you" he said. Anna just nodded and fixed herself.

Anna didn’t argue with her boyfriend. She will just receive slap if she argue with him.

So, she fix herself and bid a goodbye to him. She kiss him before leaving his house.

Helen left there in his house. He's still naked. His shaft is still hard. Helen knows what to do. She kissed him senseless.

While kissing his hand trailing down to her body and when he finds his target, he cups it that makes Helen moaned

"Ah!" Helen moaned.

He played her wet pussy and then start to slid his two fingers on her hole. "Ah! Fuck! More baby!"

“You like that baby girl? You like my fingers inside you?” he said his fingers moving fast inside her.

He slid another finger, so three fingers are now inside her hole. Her hand goes down to his hard sex and start to give him a job.

"Shit...faster" he moaned and Helen obliged.

They pleasure themselves in long time when he feels like he's about to explode, he stop.

The girl look at him in confuse. “What?" Helen asked

"On your knees, baby girl.” He commanded to her and she obliged , she make on her knees.

She can feel the excitement inside her, She’s exciting of what he will going to do.

Her thoughts come back to reality when he caress her ass and spanked it.

"Oh! Spank me hard, Daddy." Helen moaned.

"Magic word baby" he said while teasing the girl.

"Please spank me...I'm begging please" Helen begged and he spank Helen so hard make her moan so loud.

"Ah! Take me now" Helen asked.

He spank her ass again and pulled her hair up so does the girl lean backwards.

“Don’t command me. I’ll be the one who will in change, understood?” He said before slapping her ass again.

She groans in pain but the pleasure is more high that the pain.

“Answer me, baby girl” he said before slapping her ass again.

She whines when she feel a sting of again in her ass. “Yes, Daddy.” She said.

He begin to tease her with her cock ribbing against her pussy.

"You want this?" he said while scratching his length to her pussy.

"Yes, I want that. I want you and your cock inside me" in the sound of her voice. She's begging. That’s it beg for more baby.

He didn't say any word, he position himself to her back and he position his length to her wet.

He held Helen's hips to make him enter to her wet hole.

"Oh! So fucking big" Helen moaned.

He starts to thrust in Helen's hole in and out.

"Faster baby" Helen moaned.

"You know the magic word"

"Please...faster"

He thrust her so fast.

His movement became more aggressive; he buried his rock hard cock deep inside her that made the girl grip unto the bedsheet and moan loud.

"Ah! Oh! More Daddy more!" The girl moan loud didn’t mind the neighbors around them.

"Fuck! You're so fucking hot" he said.

His pace became fastest than earlier making the girl scream on the top of her lungs.

He removed his cock inside her and commands her to stand up. While they were kissing his hand move downwards to her soaked pussy.

Rubbing her clit that giving such pleasure to the girl. He position himself and with further ado his cock is inside her again.

"Ah! Fuck!" The girl named Helen moaned from the sudden sensation she received.

The man thrust her aggressively making the little slut’s knees trembles. But it didn’t ends there, his movement became faster than earlier.

The girl didn’t know where to hold, she’s moaning and whimpering wanting more.

“You like it little slut huh?” the man teasing her while slapping her face.

"Ah! More Daddy!" Helen screams.

The man obliged the girl’s demand. She wants more I give her more. She never failed the man to give pleasure in him and that made him want her more.

"I'm near." The girl named Helen said.

“Hold it, baby girl.” He commanded.

“But—” she refuse to believe.

She can’t take it anymore. She’s about to cum.

“No buts, hold it. Let’s cum together baby girl.” Her ex-boyfriend said.

She didn’t have any choice but to obey.

After a few hard and deep thrust. “Go on. Cum with me. Baby.”

With that signal, she burst what she’s holding inside her together she felt a squirt inside her telling that her ex-boyfriend cum inside of her soaked pussy, making her roll her eyes because of sensation.

The man carry her and sits on the couch. The girl doesn’t know what to do, her ex-boyfriend didn’t like aftercare and cuddling after sex.

The girl named Helen stays quiet and didn’t move. Scared that she might do something her ex-boyfriend didn’t like.

Meanwhile the man thought of Helen as one of his ex-girlfriends who satisfied him in sexual terms and in bed.

She’s really good on making him warm during his cold night. For all of his ex-girlfriend his little slut is his favorite.

He commands his ex-girlfriend to clean herself before leaving his house.

When his ex-girlfriend leaves, his girlfriend called him, asking him if he’s done. He politely said yes, his being honest to her girl.

As usual his girl is being mad and he doesn’t have any choice but to make up with her again. He still needs something to his little brat that’s why he doesn’t cutting his ties to her.

After that he went to the living room and watch some action movies.

He's in the middle of the movie when his phone ring. He answers the caller.

"Yes?" After he answer

[Where are you?]

"I'm here in my house, why?"

[Come back here.]

"And why the fucking I'm going to back there" he said in slight high voice

[Just come back here, Mom wants to talk to you.]

He closed his eyes in frustration

"She can talk to me through phone" he said

[No, it’s about Psalm]

When he heard that name, he immediately changes his mind

"Okay coming" he said and end the call

And in just a blink of an eye he went home to know what’s really happening

When he comes in his sister greet him. “You’re here. Mom’s inside, come.”

He followed his sister and when they arrived to the room where his mother is. Her sister speaks.

"You need to be ready for this, Zedekiah"

-ChubbyeME-

#me-chubchub #commadingthewildflower #prologue #degrading #toxicbehavior #male lead #pyschotic

[kingkinnie]

aah if it’s not a bother could i request they/them lesbian nagisa ran? have a nice day!!

yep yep

#anon #request #okay I looked up the flag and why does it slap so hard #I am SO envious of all yalls neat flags #some of my flags are.... downright ugly #still bitter over the trigender flag tbh #also i consider myself a demiboy veteren and shdhvdhdbd bro u should have been there for the old flag when the new one was gettin introduced #some ppl thought that wed never switch over 😭😭😭 #bro it was so so so ugly & eyestrainy Im glad we did switch #certified done

[foli-vora]

danger! high voltage

A/N: So uh, I don’t know. I thought my threesome lactation fic was the filthiest thing I’ve written but uh... this might take the birthday cake. Absolute fucking filth. It’s all my favourite things, and some fun extras, thrown into one long ass piece with my newly favourite 6′2 military himbo as a present to myself so... happy birthday me lmao. ENJOY ANGELS!

Dedicated to the ever wonderful @charnelhouse​

Pairing: Rick Flag x metahumanf!reader

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: swearing, obs it me. THE SUICIDE SQUAD SPOILERS (a few scenes from the movie but nothing detailed) SMUT 18+ ONLY. Jesus okay—slight dom/brat vibes, fingering, hand job, electro stimulation, oral sex (f receiving), titty lovin’ (rough handling/pinching/biting), choking, spanking, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, overstimulation, hair pulling, semi public sex, spitting, anal play/fingering, creampie, cum eating... (if I’ve missed anything, let me know!)

I blame this on the yellow tee + cowboy hat combo. Also, this is my first time with Rick and the DCEU so uh... sorry lmao.

+++

Fucking yellow.

Yellow.

And eight sizes too small—not that you were complaining. It was the stupid hat that was doing it, though. Why did it look so fucking good? You find yourself tossing up what you prefer, the stupid hat and tee combo or the downright delicious vision you were greeted with when you found him—

Before. It was hard to feel remorseful for the unnecessary… brutality unleashed on the camp when he’s walking around like… well, like that. A damn treat. You should put in a word with Waller—no more shirts for Flag, and you’ll do whatever fucking bizarre mission she throws at you no questions asked. 

“Colonel,” you greet with a sarcastic little two fingered salute when he’s in ear shot, eyes flicking over his bare torso with a lick of your lips. “Lookin’ good.”

It’s all playful. It wasn’t the first time you’d had Flag on a mission, and poking him was something you’d taken an extreme liking to. He was a good sport about it—not like the other toffee nose higher ups that were too good for a bit of harmless banter. He wasn’t above chuckling at one of your shit jokes, or accepting comments about his appearance with a polite nod of thanks. 

Now is apparently not one of those times. He shifts, brows pulling together into an almost apologetic wince and the resistance lady beside him whirls on you. She scoffs in what seems like disgust, eyes narrowing sharply at you before she breezes past without a word.

Your gaze follows her before you blink in surprise, turning on him in question. “What?”

“Not really the best time.” Flag mutters, eyes falling on the blood and bodies scattered around the camp.

You frown defensively, following his line of sight. “Well I didn’t do that.”

He levels you with a look that just screams ‘bullshit’ and you grin, yielding with a little shrug.

“I didn’t do all of that. I did that, and that one… and those over—you know what? It doesn’t matter. It was a team effort and, I for one, think we should be commended on such a great execution of teamwork.”

You let your comments settle in the humid air before snorting, back of your hand slapping softly against his bare chest. Damn. Firm.

“Get it? Execution? I saw that smile, Flag, don’t fuck with me.”

Current. —it shouldn’t look as good as it does. On anyone else, it would be fucking ridiculous. It does look ridiculous, you decide. He just… fucking pulls it off. You follow him into the club, warming when he pauses to let you walk ahead, his palm firm and hot on the low of your back as he guides you along.

A greedy hand lands on your wrist, dragging you towards the dance floor, and you’re sneering into the face of a complete stranger, uncaring as his hands falls from you while he gives a shout of pained surprise, hand raw and blistered from the currents you had just delivered to him. 

You miss Flag’s own curl of his lips, his eagle eyes watching the man all but run away clutching his skin. Though you often called your… talents boring, him recalling you pouting about not being able to throw lightning bolts or mess with the city grids, they came in handy. You were like a mini taser, delivering just enough shock to kill, to be useful in the field—to Waller, anyway. He was just happy to have you on his team, zaps or not.

“Here’s to being alive in three hours!”

You snort, but raise your glass anyway, grin wide as it knocks softly with the others. Conversation flows with the more drinks that come to the table, giggling at Polka Dot Man’s adorably lame jokes, dancing in your seat when Sebastian crawls up your arm and starts to look like he was throwing his little furry arms up in the air to the music, Cleo cooing into your shoulder about how he likes you.

The group eventually parts, and your smile is easy as you watch the team on the dance floor, heart surprisingly warm considering they were complete strangers and only knowing them a short while. They were nice. They deserved a little fun, a little respite. You stick to the table with Flag, content with his company for what could be the last time.

“You can’t handle it.” He grins, head tilting as he appraises you from across the table and you suddenly can’t remember the topic of conversation, mind racing to catch up.

Something had been building around the table, the air slowly getting thicker, and while you originally thought it was just the night getting humid, you think maybe not the more his gaze falls to rest on the neckline of your stupid little sundress the resistance lady all but threw at you.

You didn’t mean to kill her men—it was like she’s never heard of a mistake. Christ.

Despite the low flames of attraction that had been burning for Flag for an almost ridiculous amount of time, indignation flares within your chest and you straighten in challenge. “I can handle anything.” 

He huffs, lips lifting into a grin and then his eyes find you from under the rim of that stupid fucking hat, something stirring in them that had your stomach falling to the fucking floor, heart lodged and beating heavily in your throat.

“Could you handle me, sweetheart?”

What? He did not just say that. 

Fucking—

“Any day, Flag.” You return confidently, resting against the back of the booth while your fingers run along the smooth bottle, tips collecting the small beads of condensation and smearing them across the glass as you tilt your head. “But the question is, cowboy… could you handle me?”

His tongue runs along his bottom lip and you follow the movement with darkening eyes, his low drawl soon following, “I’d like to find out.”

Shit yes. “...would now be out of the question?”

You can see he thinks about it, eyes falling to his watch before moving to survey your surroundings, to where the team are all dotted about and then he stands, smirking curling his lips into a charming little half grin. “We’ve got time.”

There’s a line for both bathrooms, and by the looks of the many couples interlocked in the queues, you weren’t the only ones in need of some privacy. Flag pauses, eyes quickly looking around before he rams his shoulder against a locked door to the right of him, grin wide as it gives in easily under his strength and then you’re being ushered in. 

He keeps there, face lingering so fucking close, almost teasingly so as he backs you into the room and kicks the door shut behind him. It rattles violently against the frame, a bit splintered from the violent entry but otherwise stays firmly shut, and finally you’re alone.

It’s a managers office, or something along those lines, with filing cabinets and a sturdy looking metal desk sat in front of blind covered windows you assume looked out over the bar. You see it all from your peripheral, but worry you’ll break whatever fucking trance Flag’s thrown over you if you break eye contact for even a second.

“You sure about this?”

“Are you?” You fire back, brows raising.

Unspoken words hang between you before something in the air just snaps, the both of you meeting in the middle in a messy kiss, uncaring when teeth clash in your hurry to get to the other or when the stupid hat knocks against your forehead, hands moving to grab whatever they could on the other. You’re stumbling back and soon feel the dig of the desks edge along your thighs and hop onto the surface, legs widening for him to step in between.

A hand cups and tilts your face, thumb brushing along your jaw before moving down, fingers slipping the small buttons of your dress through their loops before your chest is bared to hungry hands, rough palms sliding along your heated skin and tugging at the cups of your bra until it slides enough out of the way for your tits to be bared to the warm air.

The hands that move in on the flesh start soft, but soon turn harsh when his fingers pinch and pluck at your nipples, your quiet groan of approval at the rough handling encouraging more aggression, and you arch further into the touch when he pinches and twists them slightly, your gasp eagerly being swallowed by the hungry mouth working against yours. 

Eager to play, your hands dive for his pants and dive in, humming in appreciation when you find nothing more in the way of your pursuit of feeling him as your fingers wrap around his hard cock and pull him free from his pants.

The low moan that reverberates into your mouth when your hand starts to move is downright fucking sinful, and you chase more of them as your thumb swipes along the weeping head of his cock, smearing the bead of precum along his skin before reclaiming your grip, free hand falling to gently massage his balls.

A thought hits you in your haze of being swept away by his glorious fucking mouth fighting against yours, and you briefly wonder if it’s something you should try. It’s something you’ve done before, practised and perfected to not burn any skin, just enough energy to deliver some fun little surprises. 

You keep it light, barely there. A little shock—nothing too noticeable, but it’s enough to make his mouth stutter against yours, and your eyes snap open to watch the twitch of his brows with a small wave of amusement. His eyes stay closed as you pull away, but the frown remains, deepening when you repeat the zap through your palm, only just a little stronger this time.

“What—”

You hush him softly, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and sucking on it softly. “Relax.”

“Fuckin’, Jesus—” He jolts in your arms at another longer, little zap, bucking into your grip, and you laugh sweetly against the hot skin of his throat, tongue sliding along and tasting the tang of sweat and dirt hanging there.

“Not quite, cowboy. Think you could handle a little more?”

You move at his nod, keeping your grip tight as you jerk him while every now and then delivering little shocks, ranging in length and intensity. He likes it. You know by the way his frown twitches, the way his eyes crease along the edges...

“Shit wait, I-I’m gon—”

Like hell he was going to disappoint—

Scoffing quietly, you tighten your grasp and smirk slyly up at him, lashes fluttering. “‘Wait’? But this is what I want. Cum for me—Colonel.”

One last sharp zap, mixed with your sultry coo of his title and unforgiving jerks of your hand, rip through him and he buckles in your hold, face crumbling as his high crashes over him in unforgiving waves. You chuckle softly against his lips as he floods your fingers in heavy spurts, his cum hot and sticky as it catches under your touch and slides along his cock.

You keep going, even as he softens in your hold, squeezing and milking him until he’s spasming, his hands quickly landing on your arms in a firm plea for relief. Pulling your hand away, you keep your gaze locked with his darker one as your tongue moves across your palm and hungrily along your fingers, sweeping up the streaks of his cum left on your skin with an appreciative hum that has his eyes narrowing.

He drops, knees hitting the floor while his hands fight with the hem of your dress, soft fabric slipping through his grip in his hurry to get it the fuck out of his way. The dress survives, but your panties don’t—the stitches holding the seams of cotton together tearing as he rips them down your legs, his teeth clenching in irritation when they catch over your calves.

“Easy, cowboy.” You coo down at him, slipping back to rest on an elbow as your licked fingers flick the rim of the hat playfully.

He huffs softly in amusement, breath fanning over your exposed pussy and you shift on the table, legs widening further. You flood with heat the longer he stares, so deliciously open and exposed all for him. Fingers dance along the inside of your thigh, drawing steadily closer until they ghost over your glistening folds, up and down, teasing in their movements while you whine impatiently.

“You’re a fuckin’ pretty little thing.” He murmurs in his low drawl, eyes flashing up to meet yours, fingers parting and smoothing along your slick pussy until his fingers zero in and circle your swollen clit. “You want more, baby?”

“Stupid question.” You huff sarcastically, lips twitching when he grins.

“You and that smart fuckin’ mouth.”

His fingers move away from your clit and push into your wet pussy, curling deeply against your walls and patiently searching, probing, until he finds that sweet little spot that makes your thighs twitch. A hum of victory and then he’s moving forward, open mouth hot and heavy as it lands on your pussy, tongue lapping where his fingers disappear into you before hungrily gliding up and rolling against your clit with a quiet groan, that stupid fucking hat knocking and rubbing along your lower stomach, hindering your view of him.

Lips lock around the nerve and then he sucks on it sharply, tongue flicking unforgivingly over the surface while his fingers start up, steadily thrusting deeply and continuously hitting something so fucking good you feel yourself hurtled halfway to a peak already. 

“Fucking h—” your sentence evaporates into a sharp gasp, head falling back while his mouth works you over, his fingers moving with lewd squelches as his tongue and fingers work your pussy harder. You can’t help but grind into it, pushing back against his fingers and face as something deep in your core starts to churn and twist, tightening with every rabid flick of his tongue and curl of his digits.

He feels it coming, can feel the way your thighs start to spasm and shake where they hang and cradle his face. It pushes him harder, something in him desperate to see what sounds your smart mouth makes when you’re completely shaking from pleasure he surrounds you with, drowns you in.

Your breathless chant of fuck, fuck, fuck reaches its peak when you do and, for a split second, everything hangs in a timeless void and you float hazily between stars, mind wiping clean with no knowledge of where when how, before a flare of heat explodes in your core and you come violently crashing down with a dizzying cry that has his ears ringing.

He feels the buzz of your powers through your system as you shatter, a pleasant charge moving through his fingertips as fluid gushes around his fingers and coats his chin. Your pussy clenches violently around nothing as he rips his fingers away and locks his hands around the tops of your thighs, fingers unforgiving as they dig into your flesh, dragging you tightly against his mouth before his tongue buries itself in your pussy, coaxing your body to give him fucking everything—

It throws you into the heights of another, prolonging the ecstasy already pounding through your veins and twisting it into something deeper, stronger, the depths of it reaching out and curling over you, clawing at the backs of your eyes until tears form and spill down your cheeks. Whatever spills out of your mouth is jumbled and incoherent. A mixture of pleas, voice mewling coos of more, p-please, so so fucking close—

Blackness overtakes the edges of your vision as you outright implode, a flow of charged energy shooting from your hand as it knocks against the desk lamp and shatters the glass to complete pieces, your body twisting and arching and shaking on the desk as he still keeps going, mouth hungrily taking the fresh wave of arousal that coats his tongue, content to stay exactly where he was and push you to your fucking limits.

You ride it out, voice breaking into pleading little whimpers the longer he stays locked against you, ravaging every little gush and twitch until he breaks away with a ragged gasp of his own, chest heaving as his tongue runs along his lips, back of his hand catching whatever his tongue doesn’t.

Panting towards the ceiling, your lips twitch into a well-fucked little smirk, voice breathless, “I underestimated you, Flag.”

He grunts, standing and stretching his tall frame over you, briefly pausing to lick and bite at both of your tender nipples before continuing up until his face is mere inches from yours, eyes fiery. “For once, just shut your fuckin’ mouth.”

Your mouth opens to deliver a sharp retort, but fingers are shoving their way in before a single word can even form. The tangy taste of your arousal floods your mouth and you moan lowly, lips wrapping tightly around his fingers, tongue dancing along his calloused skin as he slides them softly in and out, watching the way your lips thicken and pucker with his leisurely strokes.

The challenge swirls in your eyes, and it’s ultimately your sly little eyebrow curl that has his fingers pushing deeper until they’re down your throat, your brows creasing while a whine falls from your throat as you fight off the urge your muscles have to contract and flex around the intrusion.

“You’d take my cock so well.” He mutters in quiet admiration, grinning at your little mhm of excitement. “Not today, sweetheart.” Lips press against your temple in a silent apology when you make a noise of complaint, running soft open mouth kisses along your skin until he hovers just next to your stretched lips. “I know. One day—just not today.”

His fingers slip from your mouth, a string of saliva spilling across your chin, and then his mouth is over yours, open and breathless as he coaxes your tongue to move along his. You knock the damn hat off his head, tangling your fingers in the short dirty blonde hair at the nape of his neck before tugging it, ripping his mouth away from yours and letting your lips breeze over his with a teasing coo.

“Fuck me, Flag.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

His hand disappears between you, rubbing the head of his thick cock against your sensitive clit and then moving, probing your still fluttering pussy and sinking in, face dropping to bury into your shoulder. He’s tender, hips careful in their strokes, almost testing the waters before he pulls away to check, eyes flickering over your face. Finding no pain or discomfort, he thrusts forward, hips meeting yours with a violent slam that has the breath leaving your lungs in a sharp gasp—

“Hold on.”

You almost want to scoff, but then he’s moving. Your hands scramble to find purchase on something, anything, while he drills into you, ramming so fucking hard into your pussy you start to slide up on the desk and away from the fury of his hips.

This apparently starts to annoy him after only a minute, his body ripping away from yours with a snarl before hands are grabbing your hips and dragging you up and off the desk, spinning you around and letting your front slam against the metal top, dress soon being flung over your ass and leaving you spread and on display.

A sharp slap rings around the room and you yelp in slight surprise as your ass cheek starts to throb with the immediate after effects of the strike, skin tingling with a thousand little bites. Your eyes find his over your shoulder and he grins darkly, smug, rough fingers digging in and massaging the tender flesh.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

You smirk in return, shaking your hips ever so slightly against his touch, “Oh? Is that all you got, Colonel?”

The next is much harder, your toes curling in your boots as his palm lands harshly on your ass, your lungs barely getting a full inhale before his cock is pushing into you again, your pussy clenching around him when he aims another two to match on the other cheek. You feel his palms against your skin, squeezing and pulling at your ass cheeks and you know he’s spreading you to watch where his cock disappears, engulfed by the wet heat of your pussy as he starts to move.

It’s not long until the brutal pace is back and he abandons the little show in favour of keeping you pressed against the desk, large hand resting on your head as he tears into you, urged on by the moans you make when he hits that borderline painful limit within you. Your pussy coaxes him back in greedily every time he pulls back, and he’s weak to fight the pull of it, eyes slipping shut as workers harder, pouring weeks of pent up irritation and anger into his thrusts. 

His hand stays splayed on your head, keeping your face pressed harshly up against the cold metal desk, hips violent as they pound into yours from behind. You can’t help the wrecked little whines falling from between your lips with the harshness of his actions, ears ringing with the slap of flesh. His other hand splays across the bottom of your spine, heel of it digging into your flesh in time with his thrusts to keep the momentum.

You feel the brush of his thumb moving lower, cautious, curious, and you damn near melt through the fucking table—

“‘s okay,” you pant, eyes rolling. “Do it.”

He pauses his movements and you don’t know whether your cry is from him stopping the brutal thrusts or relief that you get a break, but it soon melts into a gasp when you feel a drop of spit hit between your cheeks, sliding down down down until his thumb rubs it softly over the puckered hole sitting above where the tip of his cock sits buried within you.

“This okay?”

Wrecked. He sounds fucking wrecked, voice almost non-existent between his sharp pants for breath, and you briefly wonder what’s doing it to him. Was it the workout of driving you into the metal; stubbornly motivated to keep you whining and boneless beneath him in some display of dominance? To prove that he can, and will, handle you wherever and whenever you’d allow him?

Or was it that you were so eager to let him do as he pleases? The fact that he had you bent over a desk in the middle of a hostile environment, spread and open, knowing anyone could just walk in and see how fucking filthy you are—all for him.

You’re nodding against the desk, sweat slicked skin sliding across the surface as you try to grind back on him, the only thing you could conjure rasping from your throat in a tangled line—more, more, more…

It’s slow, the movement of his hips starting up, just keeping to shallow, barely there thrusts while his thumb presses into your tight hole, sliding it in and out, softly pressing deeper and deeper until it’s buried fully in you and you’re whimpering into your arm.

“Please R-Rick—”

You’ve never called him that before. It breaks him.

The feral growl of “Fuck.” is all the warning you get before he’s moving again, thumb fucking and stretching your ass in time with the aggressive slam of his hips and you arch on the desk, head falling back as he drills into you further. Fingers grasp at your hair and pull, sharp and unforgiving, forcibly arching your back further until a hungry mouth could meet the soft flesh of your throat.

Teeth melt into the curve of your shoulder and you cry out, fucking yourself back against him as the hand holding your hair moves to wind around your throat, fingers tight and unyielding as they squeeze, and you’re just fucking done.

The hand slowing your oxygen supply, his thumb brushing deeply along the soft, sensitive walls of your ass, along with the bruising pace of his hips and the overwhelming ache of him hitting your cervix builds until you’re physically trembling in his hold, face creased and sweaty—

Lips brush along your throat, “That’s my girl.”

You shatter at the words, hands scrambling to hold onto his forearm wound tightly around you as his hips stutter, your pussy clenching so fucking violently tight around him along with the increased shockwaves of your powers shooting through his cock has him quickly following, his low growl of f-fuck melting into your throat as you sharply cry out, tears spiking your eyes.

The next time you meet the desk is a lot more gentle, his hands soft as they rest you down before removing himself completely from you. You vaguely hear him shuffle around the room before a cool wet cloth is carefully running along the swollen folds of your pussy, providing slight relief with the sting of cold before it warms against your body. 

“That better have been clean, Flag.” You mumble, face buried in your arm. The smile that curves your lips is soft when he chuckles quietly in return.

“I think it was.”

You make a low noise of disgust, nose curling at whatever the fuck could be on that cloth, while arms wind around your torso and help you stand straight.

“You alright?”

You hum, swaying slightly on your feet. “Fucked outta my damn mind. Good job, Colonel.”

He doesn’t get to reply—

“OI!” It comes sharply through the door. DuBois. “You finished yet? Or are you tryin’ to fuck this whole thing up?”

+

Tags: @infuriatinglyoptimistic @221bshrlocked @blueeyesatnight @januarystears @madhattervanessa @runic-belova @vvola13 @mrscrain-x7 @panemedited @southside-otaku  @lacontroller1991 @xoxabs88xox @h-hxgirl @whoopsiedaisez @witchygagirl​ 

#rick flag x f!reader #rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #rick flag #rick flag imagine #rick flag fanfiction #dceu fic #dceu fanfiction #the suicide squad #the suicide squad fanfiction #i apologise to my pedro followers lmao #it's 2.30am on the 24th which means---- #it ya girls birthday #celebrating with smut - naturally lmao

[keanureevesisbae]

You're on a roadtrip and in the middle of nowhere, your car breaks down. Obviously your phone died too - what happens next?

This, is very interesting and my horny brain figured out what would happen next 👀👀

Walter Marshall x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1.5k (yes, a lot happens)

Warnings: Fingering, squirting, unprotected sex 👀

‘Piece of shit,’ you mutter under your breath. You cannot believe this happened again and to make matters even worse, you're in the middle of fucking nowhere. Last time your car decided to break down, at least it happened downtown, meaning there were around five men who saw you hopelessly staring at your car, not knowing what to do and offered their help.

Now, you’re by yourself.

You grab your phone from the passengers seat, only to discover the most horrible thing that could ever happen to you.

Your battery died.

It’s probably around thirty minutes until you reach some sort of civilization and it’s getting darker and darker.

Oh no, is this how people get murdered?

Great, now you’re not only by yourself, but you also scared yourself by envisioning horrible scenario's. You pop the hood of the car, only to realize that everything looks the exact same and you have no idea where to start. Why do the problems have to be so complicated? If it were a flat tire, you probably would’ve managed to fix it, but this is on a whole new level of complex.

A car stops behind yours and your heart stops for a few seconds. Please don’t be a serial killer, please don’t be creepy in general. You peek around your car, only to see the very familiar truck. You’ve seen that car around in town, including the owner of it.

You watch him step out of the vehicle. His shoulders are broad, his strut is confident and his brows are furrowed, but that is nothing new. When he sees it’s you, one corner of his mouth curls up. ‘Sweetheart,’ he says and you can’t help but slightly giggle when hearing that nickname.

Detective Walter Marshall is a very well loved customer at the cafe you work at, mostly because he comes by every day and has become a reliable income. He always orders one cappuccino to go and sometimes he goes a little crazy and orders a cookie with it as well. He rarely smiles, but recently you noticed that whenever you took his orders, you not only earned yourself a very lovely 'Sweetheart', but also a small smile. Sometimes, he would even go as far to asking you what your plans were for after work and when you answered with whatever the plans were, he would simply nod and tell you to not have too much fun without him.

It was cheeky and slightly flirty, but it was always within the four walls of the cafe and nothing happened. You wished though. Walter Marshall was a very desired bachelor in town.

‘Hi detective,’ you say with a smile.

‘Car trouble?’

You nod. ‘Yes, it’s just that my car gives up from time to time.’

‘I see, I see.’ He rolls up his sleeves and stands next to you, examining everything. He starts to say something about some sort of liquid/fuel-thingy, but you have no idea what he means. Not only are you distracted because it’s too complicated, but also because of his outstanding beauty. No man in town tips to him.

Of course you fantasized about him, just like everyone else. There was quite the age gap between you, a rough fifteen years, but that never stopped you from having the most disgusting, NSFW dreams about him.

‘What?’ you ask him, when he looks at you, obviously waiting for an answer.

‘You weren’t listening,’ he chuckles. ‘That’s okay. What I said was that it’s too late to call for a tow truck and that I can’t fix it right away. We can leave your car here and I can drive you to your place if you want.'

'But what if it gets stolen?'

'How?' he asks. 'The car doesn't work, right?'

You shake your head. 'Maybe it's for the best. It's a stupid car anyway. The only reason I have it, because I got it for free.'

'Maybe that should've been a red flag. Free cars are rarely reliable.'

You scoff. Dammit, you hate it when other people are right. 'You sure you want to give me a lift?'

Walter scoffs. ‘I’m not gonna leave you in the middle of nowhere by yourself.’ He closes the hood of my car and adds to it: ‘Besides, I don’t want anything to happen to my favorite barista. You’re the only one who hasn’t messed with my cappuccino.’

You shouldn’t giggle or feel nervous, yet you do both.

‘Come on, go grab your stuff and we’ll go.’

You walk over to the driver’s side and lean over the seats to grab both the key from the ignition and your bag. Then you realize that you are wearing a pretty short skirt and your underwear is a bit on the flimsier side. You hear an approving hum from behind you. Part of you wants to die of shame, the other part however makes sure things heat up in between your thighs.

When you get out of the car and close the door, Walter has his arms crossed in front of his chest. ‘One condition, sweetheart,’ he says, taking the bag from your hand.

You frown. ‘For what?’

‘For me to give you a lift back home.’ He holds out one of his hands and says: ‘That piece of fabric you call your underwear, please.’

You blink your eyes once, twice and the universe how many times after that, mostly because you cannot believe those words—those dirty words—left his lips. His expression barely changed. It’s the emotionless look you are so used of seeing, but the words that take you by surprise.

You have had many dirty daydreams, but handing over your underwear in the middle of nowhere wasn’t one. You hook your thumbs behind the waistband of your panties and push it down your legs. When you step out of them, you hand them to Walter, who nods in approval.

The two of you walk towards the passenger’s side of his truck, when he grabs you by your hip and turns you around. With your back pressed against the door, he lets his hand slide underneath your skirt between your thighs. Your lips slightly parted, as his rough fingers knead the soft flesh of your thighs. ‘Do you have any idea how much I’ve been wanting this?’ he asks you. ‘It’s always those pretty smiles,’ he continues, ‘the way you lean over the counter in those tops with a deep neckline and how you bite your lip when you’re focused. Have you got a clue of what that does to me?’

‘No detective, I don’t,’ you whimper.

Walter smiles at your desperation, as you’re already grinding against his fingers. Fuck, he knew deep down what you could be, but this he didn’t expect. He dips in one finger, but when he discovers how wet you are, how ready you are for him, he pushes in another.

Your pleasured moan fills the emptiness around you. You’re a loud one too, Walter thinks to himself. You sure are the jackpot. His fingers brush against all the right spots. He watches your eyes rolling back, your breathing become ragged and your thighs and walls clenching together. ‘Beg for it,’ he says.

Instantly, you obey. ‘Detective, please, please, can I cum?’

There is no way you are truly real.

He barely has the change to answer, when you tumble over the edge. When you have to hold onto him since you can’t trust your own legs. When you squirt passed his fingers down your legs. The sobs and strained moans that leave your lips, make him grin in satisfaction. He roughly slams his lips against yours and within a second you melt against him.

He pulls out his fingers and without letting go of your lips for one millisecond, he opens the door of his truck. ‘They always say you are such a lovely young lady. So innocent and sweet,’ he says to you. ‘But you’ve got a dirty streak.’

You bite your lip and let out a sweet giggle when he turns you around, bending you over the passengers seat of the truck, your toes barely finding the ground. As Walter uses one hand to knead the soft flesh of your ample behind, the other unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. After pumping it a few times, he lines himself up at your throbbing cunt, before pushing himself in entirely.

The sounds that leave your lips, make him go feral. Part of him wants to take the time, worship your body and look you in the eye as you fall apart in his arms. But that part doesn’t have the upper hand now. The part that wants to destroy you, rail you, fill you is completely taking over.

There is no stopping now. Skin slapping against skin. His groans mixed with your cries of pleasure. He can feel it, your warm walls that feel so good around him, start to squeeze his hard member. ‘Detective, I’m close again,’ you wail.

‘Let it go, sweetheart,’ he tells you and on cue you start to shudder, your orgasm washing over you and that’s enough for him to reach his limits. He holds your hips tightly, probably imprinting you with some bruises, as he paints you from the inside.

He gives himself a few seconds to regain himself, before he pulls out and watches it all drip down your legs. You’re limb, barely able to stand on your legs. Your skirt is still bundled up near your waist, revealing your beautiful round bottom.

He grabs you by your arm and pulls you against his body, pressing his lips on yours. ‘You’re gonna make a mess on my seat,’ he says.

‘You’re fault,’ you mumble against his lips, only for you to earn a sharp slap on your behind. ‘Sorry, detective,’ you whisper. ‘How— Where do I sit then?’

He smiles. ‘Right on my cock as I drive you to my place, because we’re not done yet.’

✨ Okay, I'll see myself out now ✨

#walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall smut #walter marshall drabble

[liberty-barnes]

Oh, goodie

Holland Brothers & Holland!Reader

Request: “I didn’t fall. The floor looked lonely so I wanted to hug it.” “Then why are you crying?” “It was an emotional reunion.” Could you do this with Holland!sister and all the brothers and she is clumsy? + Ohhhhhhhh congratulation on you’re finishing you’re exams. Please can you do Holland!sister having some kind of medical condition and the brothers all being really comforting and helping her? Have a great day

Warnings: mentions of injuries, cursing, but we already knew that

Word Count: 800 words

Estimated Reading Time: 3.5 minutes

A/N: Combined those two requests cause they just fit so well together. Have fun reading this cause writing it made me laugh very hard.

Masterlist | Miah’s Comeback Sleepover

You held the gun closer to your chest as you panted, keeping a sharp eye out for any stragglers. Your chest, legs, and arms were splattered in red, your whole body aching. You pressed your hand to your stomach, where the most recent bullet had hit.

Sam came up next to you, equally as splattered as you.

“How’re you feeling?”

You glared at him and sneakily looked over the barricade, trying to spot your enemies.

“Like I’ve just been shot, dumbass. What kind of question is that?”

He shrugged and fire a shot into the distance, smiling at the answering groan.

“Haz is on the other side, we need to draw them away from their base so he can get out.”

You nodded.

“Run on three?”

With one last confirmation, you got ready to go.

“One. Two. Three, go, go, go.”

You started running in zig-zags so they’d have a harder time hitting you, jumping over obstacles and focusing on getting away. You heard footsteps behind you and quickened your pace. You couldn’t afford to be slow, right now.

A bullet hit your leg just as you were about to jump over a barricade. It threw your momentum off and you felt your foot get caught on the top. There was no time to think, only react, as you put your right hand up to cushion your fall, left hand still holding the rifle. There was a sickening crack as your body hit the ground.

“Oh, fuck!”

You turned on your back and cradled your arm to your chest.

“Time out! Everybody regroup, (Y/n) got hurt.”

Tom called and put the rifle down next to you, body splattered in blue from where you managed to hit him.

“Hey, you okay, that was a nasty fall.”

You scoffed, but your voice sounded pinched.

“I didn’t fall. The floor looked lonely so I wanted to hug it.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“It was an emotional reunion.”

He brushed away your tears and helped you sit up, taking off both of your masks.

“Hey, what happened, is she okay?”

Harrison kneeled next to you, Harry following with a heavily splattered Paddy behind. Sam was probably already taking care of everything, the responsible idiot.

“She just fell but from the looks of it, it might be broken.”

The blonde nodded.

“I’ll get the car ready for the hospital, I can get changed faster than you. You’ll just meet us there.”

You shook your head as your older brother helped you get to your feet.

“That’s really not necessary. It’s probably nothing, just a little ice and-”

Paddy slapped a hand across your mouth.

“Shut it Miss I’m-Fine-When-In-Reality-I-Had-A-Concussion.”

Okay, that’s a low blow.

“I was young, naive, and careless about my health.”

“That was six months ago.”

You should maybe stop talking about your injuries.

You walked to the entrance of the war zone.

“So, does this mean we won? At least Haz was halfway back to our base with your flag in hand.”

The opposite team shared a look.

“Yeah, alright, we’ll let you take it.”

You cheered.

“Yes! Paintball wars are fourteen to thirteen for us!”

----------

“Be careful, you’ll get hurt!”

With how much you’ve been rolling your eyes the last two hours, it’s a wonder they aren’t stuck to the back of your head.

“I can make my own tea, Samuel, thank you very much.”

He guided you to the table and sat you down.

You see, there’s a reason why you should never get hurt in the Holland household: no matter what age you are, you still get treated like a bloody baby.

“I am an eighteen-year-old independent woman will you just let me live?”

“You’re my baby sister and you have a broken wrist, stay still and let me take care of you.”

Fucking Holland men with their fucking overprotective streak.

“We’re back!”

Thank God your Mum and Dad were here to save you.

“Why’re you out of bed, love? You should be resting that wrist of yours, go lay down, we’ll bring you whatever you need.”

Correction: thank God your Mum was here to save you cause your Dad was just as stupidly overprotective as them.

“You know, I have a broken wrist, I’m not paraplegic. I can still take care of myself.”

Your Dad hugged you tightly, paying close attention to the glaringly pink (Tom’s choice) cast.

“I know, but we’re here and we love you, so we’ll take care of you until your full recovery.”

You watched Harry and Paddy bring up the “Sick Bell”, probably to install it in your room, while Sam and Tom were setting up the “Care Schedule”, so you’d “never be alone” and “always have someone available to help you”.

“Oh, goodie.”

These were going to be a long two months.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

*insert [they had us in the first half] meme* DIDJA LIKE IT? I DO, VERY MUCH SO

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you)

PERMA TAG

@adriannajackson123 @evermoreholland @inlovewithmobtom @andycanbeemotional @officiallyunofficialperson @lost-in-the-stars03 @jeezkiddo @a-singleboat @parkersbliss @highlydisfunctional1 @inthecornerchair @harishaanne @anjalika03 @peterspideyy @lozzypoz321 @mendes-marvel @sovereignparker @sofyluv17 @dracoswhore007

HOLLAND & CO.

@just-here-to-escape-from-reality @onelovesr @agentnataliahofferson @zeusmyster @parkerpetertingle @juliebean247 @joyleenl @quaksonhehe @clara-licht @frustratingpaperclip @hungryforfood-blog @tutuabby28 @tacobacoyeet @thegirlwiththeimpala

#Libby’s stuff #libby writes #miah’s comeback sleepover #holland!reader #holland!sister #tom holland #sam holland #harry holland #paddy holland #dom holland #nikki holland #harrison osterfield #tom holland x reader #harrison osterfield x reader #sam holland x reader #harry holland x reader

[hopefullystillatheatrestudent]

i'm so excited about you taking asks again ahhhh okay so. if you'd absolutely had to choose. what would be your top 5 cockles moments, and why? thank you ily <3

here’s the thing: there are so many routes i could go down with this, because cockles moments come in all shapes and sizes and formats. these include moments from their panels, their bloopers, the footage we get when they don’t even know they’re being recorded, stories being passed down from photo ops & autographs(one of my personal favorite ways to get cockles, tbh, because they’re all insane), and social media(tweets to each other, instagram posts & comments, etc.). 

SO! since many a list like this has already been made, and i want to stand out from the crowd, what i’m gonna do is definitively give the number one spot to each of these five categories.(i might even throw in honourable mentions because they’re so despicably in love that they warrant that. i really put my whole pussy into this, guys, i hope you’re happy.) 

disclaimer: these are my own personal opinions. but that also means i’m right. so. enjoy. 

number one: top cockles panel moment

so we’re starting off with a bang, because how do you even BEGIN to rank what atrocities jensen and misha commit at jibcon. every single one they’ve had is damning in it’s own right, for different reasons.

however, considering just how much unabashed fuckery they’ve given us to sift through, it’s a good thing i do have a personal favorite despite it all. it’s heartwarming, the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen, AND it’s jarringly cinematic - mainly because it has a whole ass arc to it that was years in the making. it might even be surprising to some people, but my favorite cockles panel moment, and what i consider the one that encompasses their entire gut-wrenching journey from 2008-2013 in the most sweepingly romantic gesture possible, is this one.

i want this burned into my retinas. i am not even joking. when i'm through with my explanation, let me convince you why this is thee most romantic cockles moment of all time.

first, some history: people call this the resume off, but many seem to forget the botched attempt at a resume off a year prior. and yes, you guessed it: it's during their break up. it's a juicy time period for a reason, guys. it came across as exceedingly one-sided and VERY awkward. let me refresh your memory as to just how bad it was, and just how hard jensen was trying and ultimately failing at winning misha over: the funniest part of the whole resume off in 2013??? every joke/bit had literally already been made/done. they were just going through the motions again, but the difference THIS time...is that misha reciprocated jensen's energy. it. is. fascinating. i want to get into it more detail in another post, and i'll link it here when i'm done, but the main takeaway, i think, and the main difference that showcases how much they've grown in a year, is that in jib 3, misha flat out refused to do an accent, and this time around, he indulges jensen for literal minutes. when i tell you they're crazy, they're crazy. i can't wait to actually dive into it later.

ANYWAY, the resume off culminates in this moment here. and, like, a million things happen in this gifset. actually, more like a million and one. the music starts playingneediremindyouthatthesongissingingintherain(h e l p), misha starts dancing, jensen 'perpetually fake grumpy' ackles lets misha think he's not going to join, misha sits down defeated, but no!!! that was jensen's plan all along(look at his stupid fucking smirk) and he offers his arm to his dance partner who immediately grins like a fool, jensen then leads misha into their kick step, they perfectly synchronise and let loose, and are then very clearly having the time of their lives, hanging off of each other with joy and ease. from their expressions alone i can tell that this moment is so. so. so. so! much more than what initially meets the eye. i mean-misha is fighting back the biggest smile i've ever seen. to me, it reads like jensen is offering something to misha, something that misha kind of gave up on expecting, and him offering his arm like that is like, a surprise to him in the best possible way(and it's so not platonic, let me just say that.) as soon as jensen did that, it ushered in a new era of cockles. this panel is jensen and misha's favourite for a reason, and i think this moment is the biggest clue as to why.

whew!!! ok. that took a lot out of me and that was only point one. moving on,

number two: top cockles blooper moment

cockles bloopers hold an extremely special place in my heart, because it shows just how fucking disastrous jensen and misha are. they are so goddamn infatuated with each other that they HOLD UP PRODUCTION ALL THE TIME TO FLIRT WITH EACH OTHER(???). let me repeat. let it sink in. jensen ackles; arguably one of the most professional actors on that show who puts everything he has into each scene, with mountains and mountains of notes to prove it: would rather hold up production to flirt with misha collins. this sounds fake. it's not. he does it. all. the. time. and here's the thing guys!!! i'm gonna let you in on a secret!!! misha loves it. he loveesssss it. on top of that-misha collins: overlooked because he's pranked and people assume he's unprofessional as well, but his only pranks are in retaliation/off-set, and he rarely if EVER causes problems if he can help it....lets himself get carried away when it comes to jensen making kissy faces at him!!! are you actually kidding me!!! i mean. misha. it's just a face. you've seen it a million times. i don't buy that it triggers something in you that strongly....you like it, and you like jensen's reaction. you can't fool me!!! lisa berry's face in that one gifset shows just how fed up the crew is with their gross, coupley boyfriend antics.

i could pull up so many examples. sooooooo many. but my favourite was sealed since the moment i saw it.

i actually already wrote an analysis on it but i can't find it :(((( which SUCKS because i really unpacked the whole thing. i'll try to summarise.

basically, a backstory is part of this too!!! jensen and misha both had a really really hard time with this scene(because it's explicitly romantic there i said it), they sat down for hours and poured over their scripts together, they were super super nervous going into filming, both of them, jensen especially, were super hard on themselves for their performances not being true to their characters but they both complimented the other's work(boyfriend moments fr). so, yeah. they weren't confident going into shooting. and how do they get themselves to feel better???? by cuddling each other, apparently.

a lot. a LOT. happens in this specific blooper. to the point that i saw it years before i knew about cockles and it raised all sorts of flags for me.

1) stop pulling my face towards your crotch(as a thinly veiled request that misha would, in fact, move jensen's face towards his crotch, considering it was jensen moving himself there in the first place. also, why so comfy down there guys???) 2) you're my baby daddy i know(in the most intimate voice i've ever heard please) 3) i know, i know, i love you too i didn't say i love you i know but you wanted to say it etc. misha's right, of course. that's what jensen meant.

it just reeks of comfort, familiarity and intimacy between the two, and it's a moment that is extremely sweet and silly at the same time. they're so <3

number three: top cockles found footage moment

WONDERFUL category. truly the culmination of the cockles experience. many people have said that shipping cockles doesn't work because 'they're just onstage you dummies!! they're playing it up for the audience!!!' here's the thing, love. i could not disagree with you more. once you climb your way up the cockles ladder, you soon learn that they are, in fact, playing their dynamic DOWN, not up. they really are just Like That™, and they could not care less about the paying audience, if we're being honest, considering how much time they take to giggle with each other and refuse to let the audience in on the joke. and i love them for it <3

anyway, my point is that this category is for all you naysayers out there, all you 'jensen and misha's relationship is just for show and is real life queerbaiting'(?????lordhelp???) oh yeah? ok, explain this.

he. he. he calls jensen sweetheart. literally enough said. there's nothing to really add here, except, misha and jared then immediately engage in damage control. jared's method is distraction and misha's is retconning('get out of the car, dude') this was what got me to buy into the cockles dumpster for GOOD good. you don't call your buddy sweetheart accidentally and sound so completely earnest while doing it! especially not when that buddy is jensen ackles!!! you think he would let any of his friends call him that? do you?

one more thing; if it was a slip of the tongue, little mouth thing or whatever, you think jared wouldn't have jumped on it immediately??? i can hear it now. 'did you just call him SWEETHEART???' yeah. that's what i thought. you know why he didn't? because it was too revealing.

number four: top cockles autograph moment

i mean, i think we all know what it's gonna be, and if you don't, well, do i have the piece de cockles resistance that is gonna send you over the edge.

if you haven't heard of this story by now, as a cockles, truther, i'm gonna go ahead and get you to read it, because there is no possible heterosexual explanation for any of it, and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise.

spoiler alert: it's the story where phones weren't allowed in an auto session, jensen nuzzles himself in misha's hair, leans his full body weight onto him, holds his hand, etc. etc. i'm imploding just repeating this back, actually. also, just, the sheer amount of stories from photo ops where they tackle hug each other or slap each other's asses or sing romantic songs to each other or almost kiss is, frankly, a lot. if i could wish for anything, it would be to witness them in person.

and finally,

number five: top cockles social media moment

this one is super difficult, because there's obviously a lot to choose from. but you know what? full send, i'm going with this one:

i just. what to say about this. how often do misha and jensen watch sunsets together for it to qualify as ‘always’ ??? why are sunsets synonymous with their relationship??? that’s like??? a very romantic thing????? ‘this guy’??? the fact that it’s a CANDID??? i don’t know guys.

that could have been better but i am TIRED so. there you go rose ily

#cockles #cockles ask #liz answers #i really just. spend hours. writing about misha and his boyfriend. #why. why do i. do that #long post for ts

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

part v

~

cw: homophobic encounter.

~

November

November shadows, 

shade November change

November spells sweet memory, 

the season blue remains

~

“Lo!” Finn called. “Guess who just got traded to the Rags.”

Cool dread spun its way into Logan’s chest at full force. He felt the point of one of his hips knock against the counter. “Quoi?”

“Marshy and Morgs!” Finn said, and the appeared around the corner into the kitchen, red hair a mess. “Like, together. Like us.”

“These were Harvard teammates, yeah?” Leo asked, spooning sugar into Logan’s coffee.

“Like us?” Logan said. “They’re dating?”

“Oh, no,” Finn laughed. “I just meant together, like, at the same time. Around the same time, I guess I should say.”

“Wow,” Logan nodded, which prompted Finn to imitate the way he said wow, drawing out the W’s. Logan smiled, lifting his cup to his mouth. “We could visit them over the next free weekend maybe.”

“Damn, that’d be a blast to the past.”

“What are they like?” Leo asked, leaning into Logan’s side.

“You’d love Will. Will Morgan, Morgs,” Logan said. “Really level-headed, probably the nicest person I know. Marshy…”

“Percy Marshall is one crazy motherfucker,” Finn said, and poured his own cup of coffee, black.

Logan leaned into mock-whisper to Leo. “And Finn gets insane when they’re together.”

Finn shot him a look, but continued. “Best way to say it. He’ll party until the sun, he’s crazy superstitious—worse than Cap and Loops combined—and he’s also,” Finn slid onto a stool. “One of the hardest working guys you’ll ever met. Probably the hardest working.” Finn’s smile was one Logan’s favorite one, made even more so by the fact that he got to see it directed at Leo. “Until I met you, that is, Nut.”

Leo let out a pleased laugh and let Logan brush a hand through his hair. “Well, they’re in our division now. I’ll get to meet them.”

“Oh, man, we’re in for a fucking treat when we play New York next,” Finn grinned. “Gonna hit the town hard.”

Leo snorted. “You guys might.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Finn pressed a kiss to Leo’s cheek. “I know everyone we need to know.”

“And I can finally tell you,” Logan began. “That the first time you dragged me around New York knowing ever person you saw, I loved you.”

Finn blushed a little and let Leo pull him to settle in the V of his legs from where he was leaning back against the counter. “Well, it’ll be nice to see them.”

Logan nodded, but part of his chest pulled. He cleared his throat. “Ouais. Also…”

When he paused, Leo tapped their socked toes together encouragingly.

Logan shrugged and looked down into his coffee. He thought of Finn’s quick breaths when they took the Cup back to Harvard. He thought of kissing him in their old room. He thought of everything before. Percy and Will were a part of all of that. Not directly, maybe, but Logan knew what seeing them again would do.

“Memories,” Finn said, and Leo nudged him.

“Don’t say it for him.”

“Oh, right, sorry.”

“Memories,” Logan agreed. “Good and bad.”

~

Remus missed the net three times in fifteen minutes, and only barely managed to keep himself from breaking his stick against the boards. He would be embarrassed afterwards if he had, but could it really be so much worse than the way that he felt now?

He accepted Thomas’ fist bump as he passed him going into the locker room and sat down heavily in his stall. The game had been close, but the Devils had won out in the end. He glanced at some of the assistant coaches, who were murmuring together. There was no guarantee it was about him, but it still felt as thought it was. Sirius was talking with Evgeni, Evgeni’s loud laugh warming up the room. Remus stripped out of his sweaty uniform quickly and was headed for the showers with a towel around his waist when someone slapped him on the back.

“It’s decided,” Logan’s accent came from beside him. He wasn’t bothering with his towel, which was slung over his bare shoulder. The fleur-de-lis tattoo on his hip—and everything else—was on full display. “Me and Talker are taking you out tonight.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean exactly?”

Logan just smiled. “No boyfriends. No hockey. We have a day off tomorrow, so no pressure. Just some drinks.”

“And some pool, maybe,” Thomas said, coming up to Remus’ other side. “What do you say, Loops? Fun, eh?”

“Okay, one of you is butt-naked right now and the other is in a three-piece suit. I’m going to say yes and shower, all right?”

Thomas gave a whoop, and Remus couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face as he dropped his towel in the change room and turned on the hot water. He felt like a sling-shot lately, being catapulted one way, and then in the opposite direction. He guessed he should feel thankful that his friends could pick him up like that, and he did, but another part of him caved in beneath the sheer affection.

I’m letting you down.

He scrubbed his hands through his hair, and looked over his shoulder when he felt a gentle, quick kiss against the back of his neck.

“Bonsoir,” Sirius said with a soft smile, and went to the shower head beside him.

“Hi,” Remus smiled back. “Beautiful goal tonight.”

He watched the water lace over Sirius’ tan skin, darkening his hair further as he pushed it back, away from his face. “You’re beautiful.”

“Hey, Olli,” Finn called across the showers, making Olli look over at him. “You’re fucking beautiful, man.”

Olli just squeezed shampoo into his palm. “I know that, Harzy.”

Sirius’ laugh echoed through the showers, joined by others, and Remus let it warm around him like the steam.

“Apparently Tremz and Talkie are taking me out tonight,” he said to Sirius as they walked back into the locker room.

“Tremz,” Sirius called over to him. “Ouch.”

“Pas de capitaines,” Logan waved him off and went back to looking at whatever Leo was showing him on his phone. Sirius laughed and looked back to Remus.

“Sounds perfect,” he said. “Wake me up when you come in if I’m asleep.”

“And go to bed without a kiss?” Remus glanced down at the towel slung low across Sirius’ hips, then back up to his bright silver eyes. “I’d never.”

Sirius smiled and kissed him, but Remus felt the unspoken settling between them. Sirius had stopped bringing up wanting to help with Remus’ shortcomings on the ice. Remus knew he had brought that upon himself with refusals after refusals to talk about it, but now it felt more like a thing. An object. An ugly vase in the corner of the room.

Maybe he really did need to go out tonight.

Thomas settled in his stall beside Remus. “We’re gonna go to Red’s, yeah?”

Remus nodded as he pulled his gray t-shirt over his head. He held up his dark jeans. “I can wear this, right?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m not wearing this thing,” Thomas picked at the lapel of his suit. “Noelle already screen shotted the snapchat I sent her. Why keep it on now?”

Remus just laughed. “All right, Talkie. Lead the way.”

Red’s bar was shoved up against the side of a larger block of buildings in Gryffindor. Remus glanced up, one or two stars were poking through the increasingly cooling loud cover. Inside it was warm, though. Foggy in the way some rooms get when there are lots of happy people in them. Logan had chosen a long-sleeved, dark gray cotton shirt, so thin that Remus could see each ridge of his defined muscles and his necklace, too.

“What the fuck happens when that thing gets wet?” Remus snorted, plucking at it as they waited for their drinks at the bar.

“I’ll pretend we had a fight,” Thomas said. “Throw a drink on you, find out.”

Logan just eyed them suspiciously as they leaned against the bar. “You guys are strange.”

Thomas just flagged the bartender, stretching the white material of his thin knit sweater. He ordered a whiskey, Logan a rum and coke, and Remus opted for a lighter gin and tonic. They still had a game on barely 72 hours. Not that anyone was that much of a light weight, but he didn’t want any assumptions being made, any photographs taken that could put him in a worse light than he already was.

“I know what this is, you know,” he said after Logan and Thomas’ intense COD debate had gone on too long. They both looked over at him, the picture of innocence. Remus rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Media’s a bitch,” Thomas said. “That’s all this is. Hockey’s hard. You can’t help that you live with Cap, who makes it all look like a piece of cake.”

Logan laughed. “I think Cap would disagree. He stinks after games, mon dieu.”

Remus and Thomas shared a look. “And you don’t?”

“Finn likes it,” Logan smirked. “Gets him going.”

“Are you sure its the stench and not the muscles?” Thomas raised an eyebrow.

Logan waved him off. “I’m not talking about this with you two. We’re here for Loops.”

Remus groaned. “Guys…it’s not…I mean every player goes through this, right?”

They both nodded.

“Sure,” Thomas said. “But it doesn’t help that some people—“

“Assholes,” Logan amended.

“Right. It doesn’t help that some assholes don’t think you deserve to be here.”

Remus tilted his glass towards him. “Yeah.”

“We just think…” Logan began uncertainly, tongue poking out to wet his full bottom lip. “Look, I love Cap. He’s like a brother. But he’s intense. For him…sometimes hockey solves hockey.”

Remus wavered. “Yes and no.”

“We just thought you might want some other ears,” Thomas offered a smile. “I mean we can’t offer a feel good night of lovin’ to make you feel better…”

Remus snorted. “Right. You know, Talkie, that’s exactly what Sirius calls it.”

Thomas cracked up, too. “But we can offer drinks. And, you know…”

Logan raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “Ears?”

“Right,” Thomas nodded. “Look at Tremzy over here, finishing my sentences.”

Remus let his smile die down a little. “I…thanks, guys. I mean, I love talking to Sirius, but I also…he is the Captain. He’s a representation of all of us. I feel a little…” Remus took a slow breath, not sure if he was even ready for the words to come out of his mouth. “I feel a little like I’m letting him, and you all, down sometimes.”

“Aw, Loops,” Thomas said, voice softened.

“I know,” Remus sighed. “It’s just…it creeps in sometimes.”

Remus watched Logan swallow. “I get it. If there’s anything I can understand it’s guilt.”

“Tremz,” Remus said comfortingly. “I guess I should listen to my own advice here, but it’s not your fault. I can be ears, too, you know.”

“Is this…” Thomas said quietly. “Carrot?”

They both stared at him. “Carrot?”

“Code names,” Thomas whispered, even though the tables were noisy and the bar was somewhat empty.

Logan laughed a little, and nodded.

Remus waited. Logan gathered thoughts slowly, carefully. Interrupting, he’d learned while talking with Leo, tended to scatter them. He was also happy that the spotlight wasn’t entirely on him anymore.

“I found him at Harvard,” Logan began, swallowing dryly despite the drink in his hand. “And I was a mess. And then we spent that year apart, and I was a mess. And then I found him again, in Gryffindor, and I was a mess. I fell in love with Leo and I was a mess.” He looked at them, eyes pleading, then back down at his drink. “I am so, so happy now. It worked out. I can’t believe my luck. I wake up so fucking happy every morning. Every little look at them, my life with them, is incredible.”

Remus and Thomas waited some more. Thomas sent Remus a half smile across him, then leaned his cheek on his fist.

Finally, Logan finished. “But I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t a mess without them.” He closed his eyes, exhaled a frustrated breath through his nose. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah, it really does. Tremz, I get it.” He tilted his glass, making his ice cubes stir the liquid inside. “You’re someone when you’re with who you love. But you gotta be your own someone, too.”

“Ouais,” Logan was already nodded. “Right, like…Re, you’re you, no matter what. Leo, he’s the same way. Finn, too.”

Remus sighed. “I’m not so sure right now. But I think what you’re saying makes sense. Tremz, you’re allowed to want that for yourself. It’s not a slight to the boys. At all.”

Logan laughed, still laced with frustration. He rubbed at his eyes. “But I don’t even know what I’m asking for.”

Remus smiled. “Hate to break it to you, but you’ve got a pretty level-headed duo in your corner. I mean, Finn’s Finn.”

Thomas snorted. “Might take him a second.”

Logan smiled and it was fond. “Yeah.”

“But Leo…” Remus snapped his fingers. “He’ll get it. They both will.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at the bar. “I’m not asking for space. I don’t want space. I don’t want anything to change I just want to stop feeling like I’ll crash and burn by myself.”

“Me too,” Remus admitted. “Maybe in a different way, but…me too.”

“I don’t know if I feel like I’m gonna crash,” Thomas said thoughtfully. “But hey, life’s tough sometimes.” He smiled and raised his glass. “Friends.”

They clinked their glasses together, laughing, the conversation turning to organizing a pick-up game in the park that weekend—if it didn’t snow. 

“Gotta use the big WC, gents,” Thomas said after a while, picking up his crutches. “Then pool?”

“Who the hell calls it that?” Remus snorted.

“Me,” Thomas called over his shoulder, politely excusing his way through the crowd with his charming smile and causing a few longing looks to follow him at his back.

Logan drained the last of his rum and coke. “You don’t feel like Cap’s putting pressure on you, do you?”

Remus looked at him, eyes widening for a moment. “God, no. No, he’s been nothing but supportive. It’s mostly me, I think. He even wants to talk about it. Sometimes I just…can’t.”

Logan nodded. “Good. No, good, I just thought I’d ask. When I first met him, he’d get like that with me sometimes. Wanting to run extra drills or talk through tape. I snapped at him for it a bit. This was before he was really who he is now.”

“Parents were lingering in him,” Remus nodded. “Yeah, I remember.”

A man came to lean against the bar beside Remus, then, and Remus shot him a smile that he hoped looked friendly rather than uneasy. The guy was really in his space. He shared a look with Logan, who’s shoulders were rounded a little in alert, green eyes narrowed in on the guy.

“You’re Lupin, eh?” the man said.

Remus sighed softly, looking down at his now watery drink. He should’ve known.

“Yep,” he replied, and looked at the man. He had two friends, hovering a little ways back.

“What’s going on this season, huh?”

The worst part was that the man was smiling, as if he thought this conversation was going to go well.

“I mean, I know you’re with the Captain and all,” the man said. “But, I mean…come on. Some of us care about how the team does.”

“Excuse me?” Remus replied.

The man tilted his head, looking mockingly regretful. “It’s not just about you.”

“Okay,” Remus said, keeping his voice flat.

“What he do to get you there?” the man asked, leaning in like they were friends. “I mean, like…some type of reward, or does he already give you those at home?”

Remus flushed. “I think we’re done talking.”

At least his friends had the decency to look a little nervous.

The man narrowed his eyes. “I’m just saying.”

“Fuck off, man,” Logan said in a low tone.

“What,” he sneered. “You got yourself a boyfriend, too, Tremblay?”

Logan was on his feet then, stools screeching back, taller than the man, stronger. Remus’ arm shot out against his chest, keeping him and his balled fists back. The man’s friend stepped forward, too.

“Whoa, Mike,” one of the friends said, hesitating. “That’s not why we…that’s not what this is.”

“Oh,” Thomas scoffed, announcing himself as he made his way back to them. He somehow made his crutches and boot look threatening. “Wrong type of harassment for you, my guy?”

The fans’ eyes went large. “Talker…”

Thomas just stared at them, and Remus watched him go from Thomas Walker with his friends to Thomas Walker on the ice, defensemen. Enforcer. “Only my friends call me that. Sit down at your own table or get out.”

Thomas shouldered through them, one crutch landing briefly on Mike’s shoe, who only just bit back a groan. Thomas was all bright, sharp grin as he sat down, leaning his crutches against the bar again. He waved the bartender over, then looked at Mike who was still standing there.

“Do I have say it again for you?” Logan snarled. “Trust me, you don’t want me to.”

Logan sat down slowly as the three men backed up and turned away. Remus pressed a thankful hand to his shoulder, also meant to calm him down a bit.

“Well, that was fun,” Thomas sighed. “Jesus. We take you out to forget about it and those three show up.”

“It’s fine,” Remus said, though his heart was pounding. “I’m surprised that was the first time it happened. Had a close call at the grocery store the other day.”

“Another round?” Logan asked. “Then pool?”

“Ouais,” Remus smiled, in his best impression of Sirius.

~

Most of November passed without change. Remus felt the stagnant ball of frustration in his stomach. He and Sirius cooked together, slowly mastering more and more recipes. Remus lived for the triumphant look on Sirius’ face when a dish came out just right. He went out with Logan and Thomas, with James and Sirius, Finn and Jackson and Kasey. He never felt more at home than when he was tucked against Sirius’ side at a team dinner, watching Logan toss food into Finn’s mouth from across the table, hollering when he caught it and then ruffling an embarrassed Leo’s hair, who was shushing them.

The weather had officially turned to Gryffindor winter, biting harsher and harsher with each night. It got to the point where Marlene started bugging them all about the Christmas video—for the fans, she kept insisting. Come on guys, it’ll be fun!

Evgeni seemed to be the only one who was truly game for it.

Remus wasn’t unhappy, but the media was growing more and more aggravated with him, the fans’ patience was running thin like ice, and now Arthur had started sending him glancing looks until, finally, he pulled Remus into his office as the boys were packing up.

The ball rolled around Remus’ ribs, fighting for space with his heart, and he sat in the leather chair across from Arthur’s desk.

Arthur took off his glasses, which was a bad sign. He didn’t say anything for a long time and Remus didn’t have the courage to make him.

“I know,” Remus finally said, and then his throat choked up. “I’m…”

“I don’t want any apologies,” Arthur said. “And, God, Lupin, I didn’t bring you in here to yell at your so get that look off your face.”

Remus blinked through the scarce relief and looked down at his hands.

“Media’s being real tough, I know,” Arthur sighed. “I know. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’m fine,” Remus said. “I’m just…it’s not connecting, I…I don’t know. Maybe I could put in more time one-on-one with one of the coaches. Or ground work with the trainers. I know we’re about to go on the road. Maybe tomorrow morning before practice.”

Arthur hesitated, then nodded. “If you’d like. But overworking yourself isn’t gonna help if that’s not the issue. Frankly, I don’t think skill is the issue. You’re a beautiful skater out there. You’re wicked fast and can misdirect hits like I’ve never seen. But…”

“No net,” Remus mumbled.

Arthur looked regretful. “No net.”

Remus nodded. “I’m working on it. I’m doing everything I can.”

“I don’t doubt that, Remus. Really. Don’t think I do. I’ll be seeing you at the Dumais Thanksgiving, yeah?” Arthur asked.

Remus nodded, spared a smile. “Of course.”

Arthur smiled back and rose. He clapped Remus on the back as he opened the door to his office again. “Good. Try and relax over the break, okay? I know it’s short, but sometimes its less work that pays off. It doesn’t always have to be more.” He looked up. “Ah, another young rascal I’ve had to say that to.”

Remus looked up to see Sirius’ smile, his dark hair curling against his neck, but otherwise tucked under a thick black winter hat. Every muscle in Remus’ body eased at the sight of him. He wanted to wrap himself up in Sirius, tuck himself inside of his winter coat and never leave.

“Cap,” Arthur gave him a nod. “See you for Turkey. Who you’ve got for the big game?”

Sirius just shrugged. “American football. Who cares?”

Arthur made a wounded noise—and another one came from Leo and Thomas down the hall as they were bundling up for the cold. Evgeni was holding Thomas’ crutches for him as Jackson helped him into his coat. Remus cracked up and took the warm palm Sirius held out. They walked down the hallway that smelled familiar and warm, under toned by the scent of carpet and cleaner that, had it been any stronger, would have been unpleasant, but it just added to the familiarity.

The garage door rattled shut behind them as Sirius unlocked their back door, letting them into their warm kitchen. Remus shook out of his coat, hanging it in the closet and rubbing his hands together. With his coat and bag, he tried to drop everything else at the door. This was his and Sirius’ space. This wasn’t a rink, or a locker room, or the press room. Theirs. The word was warmer than the heat Sirius had set to come on a half hour before they got home.

“I’m starving,” he said. “What do you feel like? I maybe want pasta.”

“I feel like you,” came the reply from behind him.

Remus’ smile was slow and he turned to see a glint in Sirius’ eye. “What is it, the cold weather? You’ve been all riled up after games lately.”

Sirius just grinned, hands squeezing Remus’ hips. “I love watching you out there.” He pressed a kiss to Remus’ cheek, his neck and his nose, between each phrase. “I love your face, I love your feet, I love your shoulders, and the way you bite the finger of your glove while you watch the game between shifts.” The kisses got considerably more heavy, lingering and accompanied by the the brush of a tongue and teeth. “I love the way you cradle a puck and the way you tape your stick. The way your hair sticks to your neck.”

Remus just smiled, eyes closed. “I’ve been playing like shit.”

“Nu-uh,” Sirius said, and Remus whined a little at the next nip, letting Sirius rock him back against the kitchen counter. “Slumps are normal. You play amazing. Just no points. Shit and slumps,” Sirius said, and Remus’ mouth went dry as he was lowering himself to his knees. “Shit and slumps are different.”

Remus let out a laugh. “Aren’t those the words to turn a guy on.”

Sirius just grinned and bit at his pants zipper. “I love you.”

“Better choice.”

Sirius carefully pulled Remus’ zipper down. “Can I? Here?”

Remus only reply was tugging Sirius’ hat free to get at his hair, the thick strands weaving between his fingers. He could already feel himself getting interested, pressing against the slip of his boxers by Sirius’ proximity alone.

“Sirius Black,” Remus sighed as Sirius nuzzled against him.  He stroked over his hair, overwhelmed with how much every part of Sirius meant to him. “I love you.”

Sirius took one of the hands Remus had in his hair by and kissed the inside of his wrist.

Remus let Sirius’ mouth fuzz his mind out, moaning softly at his hollowed out cheeks, laughing at the gentle nips to his hips and thighs. After, Sirius kissed him against the counter until both of their stomachs growled. Remus pressed his mouth against Sirius’ flushed hot cheek.

“I feel like a million bucks, thanks, baby.”

Sirius just smiled, tucking himself away.

It was true. Remus felt home. Settled. Almost as if he could forget the conversation today. Maybe even like he wanted to go down the the basement rink, just for fun, which he hadn’t felt like in a while.

“D’accord,” Remus sing-songed. “We have pasta or chicken or both.”

Sirius grinned. “Both.”

They were mostly quiet as they cooked, bumping hips, iPhone playing softly through their speakers. Remus watched the way Sirius kept his fingers carefully curled away from the knife, like Remus’ mom had taught him that summer. His tongue peaked out of the corner of his mouth, the same way it did when he was carrying a puck up the ice.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sirius asked softly as Remus minced garlic.

Remus glanced over at him, then kept his eyes on his fingers, so close to the sharp blade. “Um. Coach says it’s not my fault. He says I’m playing well. It’s just…pointless.”

“C’est pas—”

“No, not like pointless, like, pointless. Like I’m not getting net.”

“Ah.”

They smiled at each other, Remus’ a little shakier.

“Yeah.”

I feel like I’m letting you down.

“I feel…” Remus began, and the words caught. “Um. I mean, it’ll get better. It has to.”

Sirius’ expression flickered, but he nodded. “Mhm.”

“Do you feel like a white sauce?” Remus asked, turning to the refrigerator. “Go well with the chicken.”

“Sure,” Sirius nodded. “Sounds perfect, mon loup.”

Remus took a long breath as he opened the refrigerator doors, maybe taking longer than necessary to find the half & half. He was angry at himself. He didn’t know why the words were sticking to the back of his throat. He didn’t want pity, he supposed. He didn’t want Sirius to feel like he had to comfort him. Remus closed his eyes.

He’d do better.

~

Leo and Finn had their shoulders pressed together, each with their own book in their hands, when Logan opened the apartment door.

“Got the cream,” Logan raised the shopping back, and Leo all but leapt from the cushions.

“Yeah you do,” Finn said without looking up.

“Thank you,” Leo slid on his socks in his rush to get to Logan. He pressed his palms to Logan’s cold cheeks, kissing him in a quick burst. “Thank you, thank you, I love you.”

Logan smiled as Leo scurried back into the kitchen to finish making his part of the the American Thanksgiving dinner Pascal was hosting.

“I can’t believe I ran out,” Leo said, stirring something on the stove.

“It’s fine, Le,” Logan said, shrugging out of his jacket and following him in. “Happy to get you whatever you need.”

Leo turned, a touched pout on his face, and Logan beat him to it this time with a slower kiss of his own. Leo tasted like the caramel he had had them all taste test earlier and Logan licked into his mouth eagerly.

“I love you, too,” Logan mumbled.

Leo’s expression softened in the way it always did when one of them said that. Maybe Logan wasn’t the only one who couldn’t believe his luck.

“Want to peel sweet potatoes?” Leo asked with a hopeful grin, and Logan laughed.

“Sure, soleil.”

Finn gasped from the couch, eyes on his book, glasses on his nose. “They kissed. I fucking knew they would.”

Leo gasped, too. “No. Harzy, spoilers, you’re faster than me.”

Logan looked between them. “Are you guys reading the same book again, like, next to each other?”

“Sorry,” Finn said, but he was gripping the book like another secret might spill out. “And yes.”

Leo pressed a peeler into his hands with another kiss, this one fast and skittering across his cheekbone.

“I love both of you,” Logan sighed as he picked up the first potato. “You’re weird.”

Finn closed his book without marking his place and heaved himself up with a groan, cracking his back. He came to sit at the bar counter across from where Logan was peeling.

“Thanks for the help, Harz,” Logan said.

“I don’t like it when my hands smell like potato.”

Leo laughed. “Sweetheart, how’d you ever survive on your own?”

“Take out,” Finn and Logan answered at the same time.

“And catering,” Finn added. “I think the NHL is used to boys who can’t cook. Marlene just slid the caterer’s card into my hand without a word.”

Leo just shook his head. “She tried the same thing on me. Honey, please.”

Logan and Finn shared a smile, both turning to gaze at Leo’s back.

“How much time do we have?” Leo asked.

“Like, two hours, babe, you’re good,” Finn said.

“Do I have time to ravish you in your glasses?” Logan asked.

Finn raised a teasing eyebrow. “Oh, these old things? You want to wear them?”

Logan dropped his peeler and walked around the counter. He spun Finn to face him on the stool and Finn’s feet hooked around his calves, holding him there. “Non.”

Finn smiled, leaning forward to nip at Logan’s bottom lip and pull.

“Tremblay, potatoes.”

Logan groaned and Finn gave his butt a firm slap as he pulled away. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

~

“Uh, hey dad,” Cole cleared his throat. “It’s me. I just um. I’m in Pascal Dumais’ house. Can you believe that? Uh, I just wanted to say…you know, happy Thanksgiving, and all that. Maybe you can come out to a game soon? Yeah…let me know, I can get you tickets. Okay. Okay, see you. Merry—or happy Thanksgiving. Yeah, okay. Bye.”

Cole sighed as he put his phone down and looked around the Dumais’ sitting room. It was tidy, with food laid out every table, ready for guests. Cole, after that phone call, already felt tired.

There was a knock on the doorframe and he turned to see Layla, smiling at him hesitantly. She held out a glass of a deep colored wine. “I thought maybe you’d want some.”

“Oh, I can’t, uh…” Cole began.

Layla snorted. “Me neither, but…” she glanced around the tall-ceilinged living room. “Who’s gonna tell? Dumo? Please.”

Cole laughed a little and took the thin stem from her fingers. “Thank you.”

Layla nodded, bending for a cheese and cracker. “That sounded a little tough. If you don’t mind me saying.”

Cole pocketed his phone. “It’s not really. Well…maybe now it is. But I don’t think of him that way, of this that way. He’s a good father.”

He sounded defensive even to himself and sighed. “When he decides to be.”

“He hard on you?” Layla asked. She took a seat on the couch and Cole glanced around before settling on the ottoman of one of the fat leather chairs. “About all this?”

“Hockey?” Cole said, then laughed. “No. No way, he doesn’t give a shit about ice hockey. My mom got me into hockey. My dad still hopes I’ll be, like, I don’t know…I don’t know what.”

Layla frowned. “It’s not like you could’ve been a money-bags doctor and chose to paint watercolors instead?”

Cole cracked a smile. “Yeah…Yeah, he sort of skipped around a lot before I actually started getting good.”

“Oh,” Layla said softly.

The doorbell rang. And then rang again and again, like someone was jamming their finger into it repeatedly.

“Tremzy!” he heard Katie shriek a moment later.

Warm voices filled the hall.

Cole rose and, after a moment, offered Layla a hand. She smiled, letting him pull her up. “It’s not as sob-story as it sounds.”

“I get it,” Layla nodded. “My older sister skipped altogether when I was little. Still don’t know why. I know it’s not the same but…”

“I’m sorry,” Cole said.

Layla just smiled, one of her bright ones, and wrapped her hand—gold rings and all—around his arm. “Come on. Shit’s about to get wild.”

“And delicious,” Cole said, turning towards the smells coming from the kitchen.

Layla laughed, and Cole wanted to hear that sound twenty more times.

#vaincre lumosinlove #wolfstar #harry potter #lumosinlove #lumosinlove ocs #sweater weather lumosinlove #sirius black #wolfstar au #remus lupin #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #Leo x Logan x finn #Thomas walker #Cole reyes #hockey au #Harry Potter hockey au #brief smut #cw: homophobia

[deluluass]

all yours; all mine

71 and 58 with Atsumu pleaseeese. I just love this man and I would appreciate it if you wrote something with him. Youre so talented!💕 — anon

sidenote: anon, i hope u know that u have a very special place in my heart for being the first ask ive ever received. i hope u are well & having a gr8 day ;U;

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; daddy kink; mild angst; implied post-breakup depression; toxic relationship/s

Breakups are a messy business. A lot of crying, begging, screaming (if it's that type of a breakup). Whatever it is, breakups generally inspire intense— so-intense-it-could-get-you-kicked-out-if-you're-in-a-public-place, high-strung, and the most unpleasant kind of emotions. 

It’s understandable, considering you’re losing the person you love. 

But he doesn't even look upset.

"Aah," Atsumu sing-songed, twirling the plastic stirrer between his fingers. "Ya wanna call it off?"

The heat from the mug bit your skin as you gripped it. 

"What?" you choked, shaking your head. "I didn't say that, Atsumu. I only-"

He scoffed. "Fuckin'- ya just did."

You finally looked up at him, porcelain clinking as you placed your drink back on the saucer. Ball cap on,  muscles filling up and straining his hoodie and jeans; even in an outfit that almost concealed him he never fails to take your breath away. 

Only, it's for a different reason this time.

"I said that I-" you cleared your throat. "I want- I want you to-"

"I get it, I get it." Atsumu sighed, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Let's break up, then."

He was already standing up and he didn't even deign to meet your eyes. You didn't expect much when you'd travelled all the way to Tokyo just to have a talk with him. After all, the last conversation you had was over the phone. (And that, too, did not go well). 

Though, is it too much to expect he'd at least listen to what you have to say?

"Tsumu-kun! Wait!" 

Some customers were already staring, urging you to hide, hop on the next train, and run back home; away from the cold scrutiny of strangers. 

But not now. Not when what you have with him is hanging on a balance.

"Please, sit down and- and let's talk," you huffed, voice and hand trembling as you held onto his.

Breakups are a messy business, you heard.

A lot of crying. A lot of begging. A lot of screaming. Whichever kind it is, don't breakups usually inspire only the most intense emotions?

But he doesn't even look upset, doesn't even look like he feels anything other than a passing irritation, as if you were a fly buzzing in his ear, when he told you, "I know this is ya first rodeo, but yer gonna find someone new eventually, hm?"

It's been a long time coming, Atsumu thinks. He'd known for quite a while now that his relationship with you would end, actually, ever since you'd wanted to include "feelings" and "trust" and "opening up" into the mix. 

"Why?" he'd laughed at your face once. "What? Ya ain't happy? That it? We got somethin' good goin' on don't we?"

He didn't get it, at first. You'd always been your cheerful, bubbly self; never failing to be that one sunny spot when his day gets too pesky and such a pain in the ass. You were happy.

Until you weren't. 

"You don't.. tell me things," you muttered, fiddling with your hands on the kitchen table. "Which is fine! I'm not- go at your pace, but- but know that I'd listen to you. Always. I'm here, 'Tsumu."

And it wasn't as if he didn't try. It's just that Atsumu realized, a few months later, that he wasn't any good at it. 

Every time he'd lay it all out in front of you⁠— every tiny and pathetic and gritty part of him, you would eventually take him in your arms. So much smaller, weaker than his and yet Atsumu did not mind if it could be his entire world. 

Then, a thought would creep in, like a thief that'd stab him in his sleep. In the safety of those tender arms, with those guileless eyes peering at him, Atsumu would think that he'd rather stay there forever, cling onto you until he bites the dust.  

It disgusted him. 

Atsumu couldn't stand it. Because if he could be anything in this short life, he'd choose to be perfect. And that- that wasn't it. 

So he avoided it when the occasion arose. Diverting the subject to mundane stuff was easy, at first. The weather, the new show you're binging, your slacker of a boss, what happened back in the game. When that didn't work⁠— well, there were other ways. 

(His favorite was sticking his tongue in your wet cunt, to prod at the soft walls with the tip, and to lap and suck at the clit until you're begging for the stretch of his fat cock.)

The break up was understandable. When you'd greeted him in the café as if you'd spent the entire time you were apart crying, Atsumu knew it was over. 

You just repeated what you'd always said. It's okay to be vulnerable. If he needs some time to work out the right words then you'd always wait because I love you, 'Tsumu. 

(But there was that feeling again. Like he could die on the spot if you would so much as leave his sight.)

(Ending it was the only way out. When poison seeps itself into the bloodstream, you're left with no choice but to cut off a part of you.)

Unlike others, he can say that it was a clean parting. You wanted something and he was bad at it. And because he hated fucking up, Atsumu decided to leave. Easy. 

Really, the only people who didn't understand were his teammates.

"That's strange," Hinata spat, rice bursting to his chin when he suddenly faced Atsumu. "I don't think I've seen her for weeks now."

He could hear barely suppressed groans  behind him, no doubt from Bokuto and the others, before their spiker blurted out a confused, "What?"

Because, of course, Hinata could only mean one "her.” (There had only ever been one that Atsumu Miya allowed inside the team's gymnasium; inside his circle of friends; inside his life.)

Apparently, except for Hinata Shoyo, everyone had caught on that the both of you had thrown in the towel, so to speak. (And here they thought the guy's finally in it for real.)

"Nah, it's fine," Atsumu smirked, addressing it to everyone gathered around Samu's onigiri stand.  

"We broke up." 

He clicked his tongue. "It's not like there ain't no other fish in the sea."

The remark, casually said in between sips of cold coffee, was met with a gaping silence. 

That turned out to be right, like everything else that he'd predicted. 

A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole. No disrespect meant to you. But before you there had been many others who'd helped warm his bed. It just so happened that you got to stay for far longer. 

(Because waking up next to you meant waking up to that dreamy look, as if whoever's in charge up there has finally given you everything you've ever wanted.)

(And when he greets you with a hoarse good morning you say it back with eyes that tell him he's worth it, simply for being there.)

Anyway, going back to that old routine hadn't been difficult. 

(Except when he finally does it with someone new, for some reason he keeps searching for a different touch, expecting that endearing combination of inexperience and enthusiasm.)

(And when they cum he can't help but put a hand on their mouth, around their throat, because he's hearing the wrong voice, seeing the wrong face.) 

It's obvious, looking at him. Everyone can see that life's going pretty well for Atsumu. He can only hope that the same goes for you.

"You're miserable."

Peeling your attention away from the mother braiding her young daughter's hair, you hurriedly brought it back to the two women sitting in front of you.

"See?" Aya swung her hand in your direction. "Not even listening."

"No, no," you giggled sheepishly. Kaori was already pursing her lips.

"No, seriously. I am."

You sat upright, setting the chopsticks on your bento box. 

"Then what was it she said?" Kaori pressed. She folded her arms and you knew you were in trouble. 

"Uh..huh." You nodded. "Right. So. Um...."

"You didn't catch it," said Kaori.

"I didn't catch it," you winced.

Both girls sighed. 

The first three buttons of their blouses were open, the heat of the afternoon getting to them. And as they leaned back against the wooden bench, you had a feeling that they were about to give you the Conversation that's been waiting to happen for two long months.

That's why you'd decided to start it before they could. Just so it won't linger anymore painfully so.

“I know what you're going to say."

They only raised their brows, a mere "okay, go on" than an actual expression of surprise. 

"I've been sad. I haven't been..fine. That is true," you inhaled, preparing yourself for the agonizing part. Then, you released your breath.

"Ever since..'Tsu-" you gulped. "Ever since breaking up with Atsumu I haven't been feeling like myself but nowadays I'm getting back on my feet and I'm still working see so really there's no need to worry okay? Okay."

Aya grinned, but it didn't hold her usual devil-may-care humor to it. 

"You say that," she started, "but we’ll probably always be if you keep at that- at that⁠—"

"You're rarely in the moment," Kaori supplied, to which Aya replied with a harsh thank you. "You're distracted. And we know you're trying your best to be okay on your own. We've given you space, but remember that you have us."

Something was lodged in your chest and you found it hard to breathe. You'd missed them. You hadn't realized it, but you missed your friends. 

So much.

"Thank you," you whispered, forcing back  tears. "I- I wouldn't know what to do if it not for you two-"

"Hold it." Aya raised a palm. "Before you get corny again. Can I just say, I know he's your first dick-"

"Aya," Kaori murmured.

"And we all know it was good-"

"Aya," you hissed.

Your face burned as you searched from left to right, making sure no innocent being heard her.

"But can I just say," she slapped a palm on the surface of the table. "I don't care what you or the TV or his fans say about him! But the man's a walking red flag since day one!"

Kaori rolled her eyes. And despite yourself you couldn't keep a chuckle from bubbling. 

"Here we go again."

Aya almost rose from her seat. "When he sent that poor dude from accounting to the ER for just, I don't know, breathing your way, I knew something was up!"

You felt your smile die. 

That had been the first time it happened. You'd asked him what's wrong, after you'd rushed to the hospital, and all he gave you was silence. A whole day of it. He hadn't spoken a word about it, only that he'd warned you not to talk to that bastard again, or else.

(You'd learned, much, much later, that he doesn't do well with people that annoy him. That's what he said. You wanted to know more, but he suddenly decided that he had to make it up to you between the sheets.)

Kaori touched your hand. "Talk to us," she whispered.

You hummed as you shook your head. "I just remembered him," you said, only half of the truth.

If they knew it, they didn't let on. But Aya did say, "Tell you what. Company outing's upon us. So you know what that means?"

"Oh, I don't know," you mumbled apologetically. "I might sit this one out."

"No," Kaori gritted. 

Aya held your face with both hands as she  stared you down.

"You will buy yourself a new swimsuit. You will enjoy that cheap beach resort." 

The heaviness was lifting, bit by bit, as you felt your stomach ache with laughter. And with each silly word uttered by your friends, you could almost see the gray clouds overhead disappearing. Even for a little while.

"And you, you beautiful person you," Aya beamed. "Will finally, finally get laid."

Having best friends who are dead set on helping you get over an ex is a fearsome thing to behold, indeed. 

You couldn't even get a word in edgewise as they took you in a whirlwind of spas, salons, mani-pedis, and shopping bags. 

"Calm down. You rarely spend for yourself," Kaori told you when she'd caught you peeking forlornly at the frightening bill you'd amassed. 

But, try as you might to miss owning a fat wallet, you couldn't deny that you have no regrets wasting your money away. Not even for a single cent. Because you did feel amazing.

And when the day arrived, you couldn't help at the giddiness of having compliment after compliment thrown your way. 

"Is that really you?" said a co-worker when you'd boarded the bus. "You're glowing!"

During the games, as well, you'd often hear "Love the new look!" and "Have I ever told you before that you're so pretty? Because you are." And you'd preen with a soft-spoken thank you, having been taught by Kaori that denying a compliment makes one look stupid.  

It was so silly, honestly. Though not the part where, after a lovely comment, you'd be emboldened to strike an actual conversation. Learning that a coworker has a new baby now, or that so and so has recently moved up the corporate ladder; learning that, during your period of grief and self-pity (and even during the blissful time you’d spent with Atsumu), there were so many things you hadn't noticed.

You basked in it: the shower of pleasantries and anecdotes that had you feeling soft and fuzzy inside. The same way you lazed on the sandbar, clutching tiny conch shells in your hand, as you watched the sun tinge the sparkling waves with warm light.   

"Hey."

You jolted, turning towards the person who'd called your name. It was him. "Poor dude from accounting" as Aya dubbed him.

"Sano-san," you gasped, reaching for the towel beside you to cover up. "How- how are you?" 

Of all the people in your office, he was the last one you wanted to see. Solely for the reason that things have been awkward between you ever since that incident. A working relationship characterized by the literal turning of the other cheek whenever you two bumped into each other.

"Oh, pardon me," he scratched the back of his head. "Do you..want me to go?"

Yes. 

"No..!" you blurted out. "I think-"

The sun was almost setting. You wrapped the towel around you as you took in the balmy sea breeze. 

"I think I'm done hiding," you whispered, meeting his gaze for the first time in a long while, head on and baring the tiniest hint of shame, like how you did with your friends and other coworkers.

He didn't say anything, allowing you to continue. "I- It's nice. Talking to people again," you giggled. "Look, Sano-san. About before, I'm really sor-"

"Actually," he smiled. "That's why I'm here. Well, my partner pushed me but-"

You grinned at the blush that rose to his cheeks. 

"But I wanted to tell you: No hard feelings."

Sano-san extended a hand. You stared at it for a few seconds. His hand, then his face. Back to his hand, then his face again. And when you'd finally accepted it, it felt like witnessing the cage that’s imprisoned you for centuries finally open.

"By the way," he added, walking back towards an obviously amused fianceé. "It's a good look on you, being happy."

Atsumu entertained the possibility that maybe— just maybe, not everything was  fine the night the Jackals went home after an overseas tournament.

As soon as the plane landed on Japanese soil, the hunger he felt throughout the journey morphed into some kind of  anticipation, palpable through the thrill that electrified him into wakefulness. He might have left in a hurry, only half of his mind present when the Coach ordered for a short meeting. 

His foot tapped endlessly on the way⁠— while in the car; during the tedious elevator ride⁠— and when he'd finally entered his pad, slamming the door open with much eagerness than usual, Atsumu felt his heart plummet down his stomach when he was welcomed by a dark and empty hallway. 

You're not here. Not anymore.

Hasn't it been almost half a year now? Why did he expect you, face brightened by a grin that went from ear to ear, to materialize in front of him, with the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen? As if a magician with a hat trick.   

("Welcome back!" he was aching to hear.)

(You always insisted on eating with him when he got home; sometimes opting to just stay by his side⁠— munching on a midnight snack while you babbled on, if he arrived later than usual and you'd already had dinner.)

("It's lonely having a meal on your own," you explained. "Don't you think food tastes better if you have someone with you?")

Perhaps it was the jet lag. Or, it could be that the abrupt change in time zones was starting to mess with his head. Either way, Atsumu was sure that sleep would eventually cure him of the momentary delirium. 

But then he woke up the next day feeling like someone had pissed in his morning drink. The day after that, too. Even the next had been the same, persisting onto the following weeks. 

Until one game, after a winning streak that had the crowd chanting their names and with blood still roaring in his veins, he condescended to survey the numerous people occupying the bleachers. 

And when he couldn't find one⁠— one person that had always stood out to him despite being constantly drowned in an ocean of spectators— it was only then that Atsumu Miya decided that enough was enough. 

You hadn't really agreed with Aya when she told you that you'd be getting "laid" during this short vacation. 

Reason number one: it's a company outing. And you're sure you'd be breaking some protocols by fooling around with any of your coworkers. Reason Two: as you'd sagely imparted to a miffed Aya, "I don't think it's nice to cure a broken heart with sex; strings attached or no."

That being said, the lingerie she'd chosen for you did flatter your figure. It didn't matter that "no one would see it," as Aya grumbled. It was enough for you that you yourself saw it, you thought as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror. 

The way it was tailored made it seem like it was made just for your body. The details of lace also made it look so pretty that you felt kind of sad that you'd have to cover it up with a summer dress soon. 

Nevertheless, you allowed yourself to strike a few poses in front of the mirror; feeling like a teenager on their first date as you admired how you looked in it. 

You smiled to yourself, humming a tune, before you opened your makeup kit and prepared the necessities you'd be bringing for the bonfire dinner. 

"Wipes: check," you murmured, rummaging through your bag. "Hygiene stuff. Where are you hygiene stuff, hygiene stu⁠—"

You froze.

Something rustled. Outside. As if something had moved. 

Putting a robe back on, your heart thundered against your chest as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit sleeping area, illuminated only by a small reading lamp.

"Be careful there, girlie," the old caretaker warned as she guided you to this room. "Lots of mean spirits lurking about."

You didn't believe in ghosts. For some reason, however, your coworkers did. So you'd taken it to yourself to move here after a room assignment mishap, leaving Aya and Kaori behind. 

It didn't seem like the cursed chamber that she purported to be. Sure, it was isolated at the furthest wing of the beach house, away from the other rooms and separated by a too dark hallway. But that had been the creepiest thing about it. Besides, you heard from logistics that renting the house didn't cost much, despite its size, so maybe it's just that they lacked the resources to renovate. 

The floorboards creaked beneath you. "Aya? Aya, I know it's you," you called out as you squinted, catching a faint silhouette reclined at the corner of the bed. 

It was too large to be Aya, but you chalked that up to the shadows playing with your eyes. You puffed out a chortle, resting a hand on your hips when she finally stood.   

"Very funny, Aya," you snorted when she sauntered towards you. "Just you wait until Kaori hears about.…" you trailed off.

"......this."

You drew in a breath as she moved closer, revealing a build that was much taller, towering almost in the small room, shoulders that are way broader than the ones your friend has, and a face that clearly wasn't Aya's.

"Evenin'," Atsumu yawned. 

Your legs refused to listen to you.

"Been a minute, hadn't it, darlin'?"

You don't know why he's here. 

And even if you wanted to ask, you find that no sound could escape from your mouth when you tried to open it.

You do know this, as he gave you a lopsided grin that used to have you eating at the palm of his hand, along with a lazy gaze that was belied by a bird-like focus:

That although he told you that all he wants is a little chat, you knew that he didn't come here just for that.

You ran.

Atsumu had been the worst boyfriend.

He's aware of it now, realized it fully when he knocked on Samu's door, shit-faced, and it only took a single look and a consoling arm from his brother to break Atsumu into tears and snot, as well as Samu's voice telling him, "Yer a big baby. Ya need her, dontcha?"

That's why he followed you here, figuring that you'd love a thoughtful surprise. Because you always have. He didn't expect you'd take to it kindly, of course, not right away. But he also didn't expect that you would be doing the surprising.

You were talking to that man when he arrived. 

Didn't he tell you not to?

His intentions still haven't changed. He's here to bring you back, but before anything else Atsumu's sure it's only normal that you guys clear things up first. 

And if you're going to do that, he can't have you running away now, can't he?

Grabbing you by the waist, Atsumu's palm tingled at the feel of your body, pulling you closer to him as he pinned you to the wall and stifled your shrieks with his hand.

"Everybody's gone, angel," he whispered, losing himself in your skin, though covered in silk; lips and fingers roaming every which way because finally, finally, fuckin' finally you're here and you're real.

"Just wanna talk." He stroked the curve of your ass, middle finger tracing the lining of the crack. "Ain't this what'ya always wanted? S'let's talk," he murmured against your collarbone.

You were already crying, shaky hands weakly grasping his back and tears wetting even his cheeks. Atsumu couldn't help but smile. You'd always been a crier. It's one of the many things he loves about you. Always so honest with your emotions.

"I missed ya," Atsumu groaned as he grinded his cock against your pussy, feeling it harden when he mouthed your tits.

There was something peeking out of your robe, he noticed as it became more rumpled. 

"D-don't," you breathed, your attempt to swat his hands away thwarted when he seized your wrist.

It was lace. The color pulling the eye to your body like a siren's song. And when he stripped the robe off of you, silk swishing down your elbows, Atsumu saw that it was a piece of lingerie. One that he hasn't seen before.

Because he didn't buy this one. It wasn't from him. You weren't the type to get one yourself. 

Until now.

"This for him?" he murmured, pressing a kiss against your pulse, beating like a drum against his lips. 

"Wh-who?" you whimpered.

"The ugly piece of shit. Saw you guys gettin' chummy earlier."

He was close, too close to you, back at the beach. You smiled at him, laughed and showed him what he isn't supposed to see. And when he touched you— when the fucker touched you, Atsumu wanted blood on his hands.

"Yer gonna fuck the guy whose face I busted?" 

You squeaked as he dug his blunt nails against your wrist. Atsumu licked the red impressions they made.

"And what- what about it?" Your voice was so brittle and small. God, he just wanted to hold you. "It's none of your business, who I spend my time with. And don't- don't tell me you're jealous because-"

He chuckled, the sound of it making you shrink back into the wall. "Jealous? Doll, ya wouldn't wanna know what I'm feelin right now. But, sure." Atsumu lightly nipped at the tips of your fingers. 

"'Course I'm jealous," he rasped. "You're mine."

Then, Atsumu looked at you. And what he saw in your eyes made him stumble that when you shoved him away, all he could do was stand and stare.

"I'm not your thing, Atsumu," you cried. A light-year difference from the girl who'd always stare at him so tenderly. "I never was and I never will be. I'm not yours."

You didn't run this time. You should've. 

Atsumu clenched his jaw. "Like hell ya ain't," he snarled.

People say that breakups are a messy business. Atsumu was so sure he wouldn't have to endure that, before he met you.  Now that he's had the experience, though, Atsumu can say with confidence that breakups are, in fact, a goddamn mess.

But you're over that now. It's time to turn over a new leaf and return to one another. And Atsumu's finding out, in the process, that making up can be astonishingly reminiscent of the breakup.

You started crying when you woke up, screaming for help as you tried to budge the rope that was tying your hands to your knees. You got louder when you found out that you were naked and not in the rickety confines of the beach house. 

"Welcome home, baby," he beamed, eying you from between your legs. 

The begging started when you realized how drenched your little pussy was, his tongue lapping and slathering the cum dripping from your twitching hole, against  your swollen folds; his calloused thumb massaging deep circles on your clit. 

And when he stuck another inside your puckered asshole, you writhed out of your binds and squealed, "T-tsumu-kun…!"

Fuck. 

"Babydoll," he growled. "Daddy's gotcha, daddy's gonna treat ya so fuckin' good."

He slapped your damp cunt with his long fingers, thrusting them inside to rub and feel at your walls, at the bump that never failed to make you screech. "Daddy's been mean hasn't he? Hm? Been a bad daddy to ya, baby?"

You could only gasp out wordlessly as he slurped the juices off your clit, not stopping until you were gushing, sloppy cum drizzling on the bedsheet, every muscle in spasms, incapable of even stretching out your legs although Atsumu knew you wanted to, you really wanted to so fuckin' bad, resorting to curling your toes instead. 

"E-enough, please, please, stop!"

How adorable, Atsumu thought. "My little slut," he cooed, tapping the tip of his hard cock on your pussy. "My good 'lil fucktoy."

He relished it, wanting to draw this on forever, so he slides it against your folds, pussy lips wrapping the meat of his cock, gyrating his hips back and forth, as if he were fucking you, and grabbing your tits to play with your nipples. 

"Atta girl," he laughed, licking his teeth when he finally sunk inside your tight cunt, pushing you so far down into the mattress until his chest was rubbing against your tits, your feet dangling against his shoulders.

"I don't-I don't want this, 'Tsumu," you sobbed. "Don't want this!"

Oh, of course you don't. Atsumu knows you don't. He'd fucked you against your will, after all. 

But you were taking him so well, darlin'. Your walls were hugging his cock so fuckin' nicely that he couldn't help but shove deeper inside you, craving for the way your pussy twitched rapidly around him. 

If you weren't bound, he's also sure that you'd be pushing his hips away. But that's not what's getting to him. Because as he pistoned his cock into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass, you instantly turned your face away.

Did you know that you were breaking his heart? Shattering it to pieces, when you close your eyes like doors, locking them to prevent him from ever reaching you again. 

So he gripped your chin. Forced you to meet his eyes as you wept and shook your head. 

"Am gonna be better, baby," he groaned.  "No more keeping things from ya. None of that bullshit, now."

Atsumu shivered as you came around him, convulsing under him and strained voice still begging him to stop. Because he wasn't. He would never stop. Not when it comes to you. 

"Am all yours, angel. All yours." He pounded your fucked out cunt, chasing his own high as he kneaded your tits. 

A tear fell from your eyelids. And when he kissed you, it felt like everything in his life shifted back in its rightful place. "You can have it all," he sighed, cupping your cheek.

"So give me all of you now," Atsumu pleaded. "Come back to me."

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x female reader #dark content haikyuu #prompt

[tsunderedoctor]

How They Kiss 3

some more babies I’ve been thinking about

“Red Haired” Shanks

Another casual/lazy kisser; but boy is also a pervert so expect him to get a bit handsy! It’s not his fault his partner in crime is just too cute to resist! Would literally just peck your lips and grab a feel at your assets while at it!

The crew stops asking why every time he comes back after seeing you he has a black eye or a red handprint on his cheek. They don’t want to know that badly-

Always laughs and swats your fists/slaps away and has this smug cheeky grin that just makes you feel weak in the knees (and he knows it too-).

Surprisingly can be serious when he has to say goodbye, holds your face and looks deep into your eyes as he leans in for a kiss; but still somehow ends with his hand on your butt. It’s like his hands are out to get him and he can’t control it! (”I swear I didn’t mean to this time, it’s just instinct!”)

“Red Flag” X-Drake

He’s a stern kisser (is that a thing?). He treats kisses like his work, with this hard look and determined eyes. It can be a bit intimidating, but is also kind of hot knowing he takes it so seriously!

Will blush a bit and cough awkwardly if s/o kisses him out of the blue. He’s still used to the idea of being with someone and the whole relationship life. He also never had much affection growing up so this is just a whole new world for him.

When s/o leaves after kissing him he has this small smile and it makes him feel wanted and appreciated for once! 

Won’t ask for kisses, but has this longing look in his eyes as he looks at your lips and you know right away he wants a kiss; baby is just unsure how to ask or if he even can!

Donquixote “Cora-san” Rosinante 

An innocent kisser! Just loves kisses! They remind him of his childhood before all the craziness happened; the nights where he would have a nightmare and his mom would kiss his forehead and sing him to sleep.

Gets really excited after kissing and does a little skip (that sometimes ends in him falling- ha he’s falling for you). 

You actually can’t help but giggle at his cuteness which leads him to be confused and wondering what’s so funny. You could tell him, he would just blush and look down all shy; or you could say nothing and he will smile sweetly and go about his day.

Physical affection and words of affirmation are this man’s love languages! So it always makes his day when s/o gives him pecks. Wouldn’t know what to do if things got steamy though; you would have to lead the way! 

Rob Lucci

A sadistic kisser! He likes seeing how much it takes until his s/o is wanton and needing something else besides just innocent kisses.

The type to shut you up with a kiss if you two are arguing. He doesn’t like to be insulted and wouldn’t want to raise his voice/hand at you; so what better way to keep you quiet then with his lips?

Doesn’t initiate kisses; s/o has to be the one to do that. If he’s in a particular mood he may give in right away, but most times he wants to know how bad you want it and what you will do for it.

Get’s a bit jealous if you give Hattori pecks; excuse you those lips are his. Will send daggers at you for the rest of the day and will deny you any kisses no matter how much you beg.

Penguin

The boy next door kisser! Has totally read love novels/comics and thinks he is a 10/10 kisser because of it. Is actually pretty confident in his kissing abilities and would bet with the others he can make you a blushing mess.

In reality his kisses are good, but not like fireworks; but you can’t help but smile at how happy he looks knowing you like kissing him.

Gets red when you kiss his cheek or the top of his hat. Makes him feel like some shy teenage boy rather than a cool guy. Would have a quiet voice asking for more while looking at his feet.

Totally loves when you dominate the kisses because it makes him feel safe. Boy is a pirate and has had a tough life himself, so it’s nice knowing he has at least one person he can feel safe with!

Shachi

An inexperienced kisser! Definitely not a bad thing and somewhat sweet to see how nervous and shy he gets. Fixes his shades or messes with his hat while he stares at you (and you’re like “boy you gonna ask or what?”)

Cannot kiss in front of the crew; he knows how embarrassed he gets and will not be put on the list of things they make fun of him for. Tells the crew how awesome he is and how he makes you swoon (I see him and Penguin getting competitive and their s/os are like “If people only knew.”).

Might go to Law for advice and Law just stares at him like, da fuck? Then tries to play it off that this is for his friend/nephew, not him.

Will only take his shades off to kiss you. Didn’t plan on it, but you took them off when you two were about to kiss and now does it every time after!

Cavendish

This isn’t a kissing type, rather a troupe. He’s the player who has kissed everyone, but once with s/o gets so flustered and bashful (like “this for me?” meme).

Can see him with someone who didn’t fall head over heels with him and he has been trying to win them over, but ended up falling for them instead. Is that too cliché? Meh, he’s a cliché guy so it’s fine-

Loves seeing s/o’s smile after kissing and it makes his heart just flutter with joy knowing he can make someone this happy. Used to use kissing for his own amusement/pleasure, now he only wants to see your pleasure!

Wants kisses when he comes back from trips because he missed s/o so much and he was very brave/strong so he deserve some reward! 

Bartolomeo

A fanboy kisser! Like just screams/fangirls after kissing! How did he get so lucky to have you as his one and only, his star, his moon, his sun- (okay bro chill).

Loves holding your hands when and after kissing you; actually just wants to hold your hand all the time. It makes him feel loved and cared for, even when he gets obsessive; you still are there for him! 

Reminds me of Juvia Lockser; so after a mission/battle wants to go on a date and kiss you! 

Would also have a plush version of you that he kisses when you are not there. He sleeps with it too and it is his most prized possession. Not sure if you should be weirded out or not-

If you told him to get rid of it would totally hide it and said he did-

#tsunderedoctor #shanks one piece #x-drake #cora-san #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #rob lucci #penguin one piece #shachi one piece #cavendish #bartolomeo #one piece #one piece headcanons #my thoughts

[forever-rogue]

For the 390 prompts, how about #381 “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” with Catfish... My devil side want to make it angst but it's totaly up to you 😭 🌱

It’s angst hours, baby!

Pairing: Frankie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: language

MASTERLIST

FRANKIE MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Hey,” Santi slipped into your abandoned stool at the bar next to Frankie. You were all at the bar for weekly get together, but Frankie had noticed you seemed down from the moment you walked in. He was attuned to you, very much so from years of being your closest friend, but it hadn’t taken much to see that you were upset. Your lips barely managed to curve into a smile, and your eyes had a heavy tiredness behind them, despite your best efforts to appear happy, “you heard about what happened, right? With Bee?”

“I...no? She hasn’t said anything to me,” his brows knitted together in confusion as he downed the rest of his beer. A sense of worry settled into his bones at your behavior; it was so strange and unlike you, “w-what happened?”

“Mark,” Santi dramatically rolled his eyes at Frankie before flagging the bartender over for another round of drinks; it seemed like you could all use it. Rage boiled in his blood at the sound of the name; he’d hated Mark from the day the two men had met. It wasn’t just because he was the man that had won over your affections, although that was definitely a large part of it, but because after a while it was clear that he was genuinely an asshole. He wasn’t good, or good to you, but for some reason you’d never seen that. You ended up putting up with so much shit that you’d normally never take from anyone else. Frankie’s grasp around his empty bottle was so tight it was a surprise it didn’t shatter into little pieces, “he cheated on her...she finally dumped him.”

“He cheated on her? That fucking asshole,” Frankie almost jumped out of his spot as every bad thing he wanted to do to the man that broke your heart bubbled up, “I will-”

“She found them together,” Santi put his hand on Frankie’s arm to calm him down, “and apparently he still tried to make it seem like her fault. She’s really upset, Fish. Don’t make things worse right now. I know - we all know - how you feel about her. Give her time and space.”

“I’m her best friend,” he huffed as he slid out of his spot, “I need to be there for her. I’ll just...I’ll make sure she’s okay. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t tell me...:”

“Why do you think, Fish?” Santi cocked a brow at his friend before letting out a long sigh, “she knows you’ve always hated him. She doesn’t want you to do anything stupid and get yourself into trouble. She loves you too, you know. Even if she doesn’t realize that.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Everyone knows it,” Santi was amused at how blind the both of you could be at times, “it’s so obvious to everyone...except perhaps the two of you. The way you look at each other, how you act...that shit ain’t just friends shit. You both know it.”

“Then why did she date Mark? For almost two years and waste that time on him?” Frankie grew frustrated as he slid off the stool and hit the dirty floor of the bar with a dull thud, “why wouldn’t she say anything to me?”

“Why haven’t you ever said anything to her?”

“I don’t want to lose Bee,” he pulled off his old, batted cap and hand a hand through his curls in frustration, before slapping it back on his head, “I’d rather keep her as my friend forever than face a life without her.”

“There’s your answer.”

“I’ve got to see her,” he insisted, brushing past Santi, “I have to let her know.”

“Don’t - give her time and space,” Santi grabbed his arm and insisted, “don’t push her just because he’s gone. She’s hurt and been through a lot. Be her friend and let things happen on their own.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Frankie snapped as he pulled out of Santi’s grasp and headed to the back of the bar, where he’d seen you step outside and disappear a little bit earlier.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were pacing around with your phone pressed to your ear as you tried to keep it together and not break down into another fit of tears and sadness. The whole day had seemed like a blur, one painful, horrible nightmare and you just wanted it to be over. You just wanted to sleep and wake up and have no memory of anything. Perhaps not even the last two years.

“I can’t believe he did that to you,” your sister sounded as incredulous as you felt, “you’ve been so good to him, more than he deserves honestly, and for him to do that? Asshole. I am so, so sorry for what he did to you, babes.”

“Me too,” was all you could choke out as your lips trembled with effort not to cry. You looked at the inky black sky, dotted with glittering stars as you tried to ground yourself.

“At least you’ve got the guys with you. If he does or says anything, you know they’ve got your back,” she reminded you, causing you to experience a momentary pause of peace, “and now you can finally tell Frankie how you feel.”

“No,” you insisted firmly as Frankie stepped outside, quiet as a mouse as he tried not to interrupt. He hadn’t meant to be sneaky and listen in, truly, but now that he was there, he couldn’t stop himself, “I’m not telling him anything.”

“You love him! You’ve been in love with him for what? Almost six years?” she scoffed at the other end of line, “you have to tell him how you feel, now is the time. He’s not...he’s not to wait for you forever. If you love him, let him know.”

“I don’t,” you lied thickly, steeling your nerves as you bit back bile. It was hard to lie; especially when it came to Frankie. He was everything you were not: good, gentle, pure, loving. He didn’t deserve to have you dragging him down. He deserved the world - something you felt you could never give him. He would be so much better off without you, no matter how much you actually loved him. 

“You’re such a liar!” she insisted as you groaned, “the two of you are in love! You’re just blind fools, scared to get hurt.”

“No!” you shouldn't have called her, you should have just gone home and cried yourself to sleep like you had planned on, “I don’t love him! I don’t love Frankie. He’s nothing but a friend and he’ll never be anything else!”

Frankie’s breath hitched in his throat as he listened to your angry tirade. He must have heard wrong...surely you hadn’t meant it, right? Santi had said...everyone had told him….he loved you. But...you didn’t love him? He needed to get out of there and fast; he left like he was going to be sick. But as he turned on his heel, he almost slipped on a rock and made a small sound of surprise. 

You froze in fear at the sound, realizing for the first time that you weren’t alone at all. Your sister was still babbling away at you, calling you a liar as you turned around and found Frankie, frozen in fear as he tried to get back inside. You swallowed thickly, knowing exactly what had happened; he had heard your blatant denial of love. The lie you wish you’d never spewed. Ending the call without a word, you stepped closer to him as his own eyes appeared glossy with tears.

“Oh Frankie,” your voice cracked as more tears rolled down your cheeks. Could this day really have gotten that much worse? You wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole, “you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“I wish I hadn’t,” he admitted quietly, “I came to look for you, to make sure you were okay. Santi told me what happened.”

“Frankie, it was a lie,” you might as well tell him the truth now. There was nothing left to lose at this point, and he deserved to know the truth finally, “I was talking to my sister and it was all a lie. I didn’t mean it. I-I do love you-”

“You don’t need to lie to me now to spare my feelings,” he stared at the ground before slowly opening the door to the bustling bar back open, “if that’s how you feel it’s how you feel. I just...I should have known better. I was the fool, not you.”

“Francisco, don’t go,” you darted towards him but he was already inside and weaving his way through the crowd, barely acknowledging your friends as he made to leave, “Frankie! Frankie! Don’t do - don’t walk away. It was a lie to get her off my back and because I….”

“Because what?” he turned around, and the look on his face was enough to break your heart then and there. His cheeks were already tear stained and his eyes were nothing but hurt, as you struggled to find the right words. After a few beats of tense silence, he shrugged, “I’ll see you around, Bee. Eventually...I just need some time to deal with my own feelings. I’m sorry I thought there could ever be more between us.”

“Francisco,” his name was a pitiful whimper as you watched him get into his truck and start, leaving without hesitation. Your hands flew to your face as you stood there in panic, “what have I done?”

“Bee?” Benny came up behind you, confused as he looked between you and the spot Frankie was previously parked in, “what happened? Is everything alright?”

“I think I just fucked everything up,” you admitted as you let him pull you into a hug, “I think I just lost the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“He’ll come around,” Benny promised, although it felt hollow, “it’s Fish. You know he will.”

“I hope so,” you cried, “I sure hope so.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fem!reader

[fandomwriterstuff]

Rewind

Rick Flag x you

Rated T

~6.5k words (I could not turn it into chapters, it didn't work out right)

Warnings: canon typical violence

I highly recommend listening to this song because it is very epic and I listened to it while I wrote the dramatic end scene.

You were a petty thief, a modern Robin Hood; you stole from the one percent to gave to the needy. And you know what? More often than not, the one percenters never even noticed. And every time you got caught you used your powers to get out of the situation. However, you knew a day was coming when you wouldn’t be able to get out of a nasty situation. A feeling of dread was filling up your nightmares and seeping into your waking life. You were filled with anxiety that your next job would be your last. Of course, it was never an issue with your powers. That is, until it became an issue.

You were doing a job in Gotham, a shitty city if you did say so yourself. Nothing like the country home you grew up in. You knew the ins and outs of the city bank. You knew the guard schedules, you knew the camera angles, you knew the passcodes, you knew which day your target would be inside. Bruce Wayne. Local billionaire who wasted his time and money hosting galas for the rich and famous. You loathed the idea of him. He wouldn’t notice a couple million getting lost in the shuffle. You knew everything that Gotham City Bank had to offer. But what you didn’t know would get you caught and sent to a metahuman prison. What you didn’t know was why you’d been feeling the dread of this job creep up on you for weeks. You had a bad feeling about it, more than the rest. So when you walked in, in disguise, you thought nothing of the exhaustion and weakness that filled your body.

You’d barely slept the night before, so it was normal. And this wasn’t a cash job, it was all wire transfers. But Wayne had to be there for the biometrics to work. Unfortunately, he knew all about your little job. He knew and he had you caught. You were confused, at first, when all you saw when you walked in was an empty bank. It was just the tellers looking at you nervously, but there was a swish behind you and you whipped around, military training coming back to you from your brief time in the army as you took a fighting stance to see… the Batman?

“The Masked Marauder,” he mocked you in his autotuned voice. You scoffed, two could play at that game. You were posing as a man today, trying to throw the trail off of yourself. You turned on your voice modulator and laughed haughtily at him.

“The Batman. Fancy seeing you here,” you were unsure as to how Batman was involved with Wayne Enterprises, but you had no doubt he was there for you.

“Feeling a little weak yet? I can see you straining,” you were on guard as he approached you, coming close enough that you could see the stubble on his chin. If you could turn him around so you were closer to the doors you could use your powers to get out of there and make a quick escape. It was easier to change your own position with your powers and not an entire scene, but you could do it if need be.

But he was onto something. You did feel weak. You were tired, your limbs heavy.

“What did you do to me?” You asked, shifting on your feet but trying to keep the charade up. You were masked and cloaked, but he had a nerve-wracking effect on you.

“It’s new technology. Power blockers at every entrance. You’re powerless inside this place,” at his words you backed up, falling weakly towards the ground as your powers were seeping out of you. You tried to use them to get out of this situation, breath shaking and palms sweaty as the seriousness of the situation dawned on you. You were well and truly screwed.

It was only moments before the GCPD came and fixed you with a power-blocking collar, chaining you up in an armored vehicle and sending you on a long trip to Louisiana. You had no next of kin to notify, no friends to take care of your apartment. You were alone.

Belle Reve was a hell of a place. You were brought in under the cover of nightfall and were only given a brief explanation of the situation. You were in a metahuman prison. You had less rights than normal humans. You were being tried for multiple robberies and the associated injuries that people had gained when fighting back against you. You’d never killed anyone, not since the army, but it didn’t matter. The crimes had stacked up. You were looking at forty years in this place.

When they threw you into the cell you were going to stay in, you were relieved to see there was only one bed and it wasn’t occupied. Solitude, at least, was your friend. You could think. You’d have thought it would be less time in prison since you hadn’t killed anybody, but it didn’t seem like it mattered. You shrugged to yourself. It’s not that you had issues killing people, you were in a special metahuman unit in the army before you became the Masked Marauder. You had a different codename then, but working with them had made you a little crazy. You had to see your close friends and colleagues treated with less respect than dirt because of their metahuman status, and you had to see most of them killed in action. You barely made it out, and you came out with a raging hard on for disrespecting authority figures.

You were only in Belle Reve for six days before you met Harley Quinn.

“Live fast, die hard, baby. You gotta do what you gotta do,” was something you heard a lot out of her smirking mouth. If you were in another life, you’d have been instantly attracted to the beautiful blonde, but you had enough crazy in you to not want any more on your plate. Despite the lack of romance between the two of you, you still got close. “As thick as thieves,” Harley would say with a wry twist to her mouth. She loved puns.

“Chronos?” You whipped your head around at the sound of your military nickname. “What the fuck are you doing here you little slut?” Your eyes widened as you recognized one of your previous teammates. Another bad egg, turned away from the army and towards a life of crime.

“Who’s Chronos?” Harley frowned next to you at the lunch table you were at, she hated not knowing things.

“That’s what they used to call me,” you whispered, standing and facing the other woman. You were small in stature, and the Amazon-like woman towered over you.

“Annie,” you knew she hated being called by her real name. She was one of the cocky ones, thinking metahumans were better than regular old humans.

“You’re wrong,” another voice called. “Chronos is a dude,” that came from Blackguard, a weirdo that you were avoiding. You avoided most people, really.

“Chronos is not a dude,” Annie growled, suddenly looking at the smaller man. “You calling me a liar?”

“I think it’s time for us to get out of here,” Harley dug her fingers into your bicep and pulled you towards the rec yard.

“What’s up with you? You normally love people watching the fights,” you wondered, concerned when Harley passed her favorite guard without saying hi. (It was Colonel Flag, the fucking hottest guard at Belle Reve who you’d definitely formed a crush on. You couldn’t help it, he was compassionate and he didn’t spit on you or throw you around or humiliate you like the other guards.)

“You didn’t tell me you had a super secret past with a cool nickname,” she whisper-shouted when you got to a bench and she could slap you on the arm.

“It didn’t come up,” you shrugged sheepishly.

“What does Chronos even mean?” She asked and you were going to explain, but Colonel Flag sat down at the bench across from you with a warm smile.

“Harley, Y/N, just the two people I wanted to talk to,” he then raised an eyebrow at the bruising grip Harley had on your arm. She let go and he frowned at the angry half moon marks her nails had left there.

“Not now, Ricky,” Harley pouted. “Y/N’s been holding out on me! She has a cool secret life and never told me about it!”

“I doubt you ever asked,” he followed up in a deadpan way and you stifled a chuckle. It was true. She could be forgetful and also unobservant. She didn’t exactly ask you about your life a lot. You thought it might be an act, she did have a PhD, after all.

“She even has a cool nickname. What does Chronos even mean?” She asked again, but side-eyed Colonel Flag when he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Chronos? I thought they called you the Masked Marauder. You’re in here for theft.”

“They must not tell you all the deets,” you raised your eyebrows at the man. “Before I was a criminal I was a part of an elite army group of metahumans. But that went to shit and I’m considered a war criminal in several countries. Never got the pardon for working as a part of the US military because they wanted to keep my unit under wraps,” you frowned. You couldn’t ever leave the country because of it.

“Well you’re not going to like the proposal I have for you, then,” he looked like he was regretting coming over to you and you threw a smile on your face.

“What do you need, Colonel?” You asked, tilting your head, but Harley was bouncing up and down in her seat.

“Oh! Task Force X? Is it a new mission?” She looked so excited you nearly didn’t listen to her words. But you did.

“Task Force X?” You asked him, narrowing his eyes. Maybe that’s why he was so nice to you all this time. He was buttering you up. “I don’t think so. I’m not dying today.”

“You get ten years off of your sentence for every mission you do-” You cut him off.

“You had me at ‘ten years off of your sentence.’ Say no more. I’m in,” you grinned, shark-like, at him. He had the wherewithal to not look confused at your sudden change of heart.

“It’s always fun, like weeding out the weak!” Harley exclaimed as you were ushered out of the briefing with Amanda Waller, a woman who terrified you and chilled you to your core. You felt okay though because Rick was going to be your commanding officer. It had been three weeks since your conversation with him outside in the rec area. Three weeks and your relationship had shifted just enough to make you feel safe in his capable hands. If it wasn’t the genuine human respect he gave you, or the dirty looks and reprimands he gave the guards who manhandled and mistreated you, it was the lingering fingers brushing against your back when he led you places and the warm smile he had just for you.

“Flag,” you smiled softly as you passed him on the plane.

“Chronos,” he smiled back. You knew it was commonplace to call each other by their names (Bloodsport, Blackguard, Chronos, etc), but you felt a twinge of fear. This was your first time using that codename on a real life mission since you left the army. But, when Rick came up with a fancy electronic screwdriver and unhooked your power-dampening collar, you felt such a high. You were ecstatic, your limbs felt light, you felt like you could go a million rounds against Mayweather, you wanted to fuck-

“Am I missing something? Isn’t Chronos a dude?” Blackguard asked, again, and you scowled.

“Chronos is a myth, man. This is clearly just someone with the same name, right?” Boomer nodded towards you and you gave him a tight grin. But before you could respond, Rick did.

“She’s definitely Chronos, and you better hope her powers aren’t mythical,” you grinned at that. He had your back. However, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to save them all if it all went to shit. For several reasons.

You hadn’t used your powers since arriving at Belle Reve, so you didn’t know if you were at 100%

You only had certain amount of power over large situations, so you’d likely only be able to save yourself and a few others

You didn’t care enough about these fuckers and they didn’t care about you. Your priority was to get out alive with Rick and Harley

That’s when Harley made her first appearance to the team. She was apparently good friends with Boomer and you mentally added him to your list to keep alive.

After you set off, things happened quickly for you. You made eye contact with Rick (yes, you were mentally calling him Rick now, because you wanted to fucking date the shit out of him), and made small talk with Harley as Blackguard freaked out about Weasel. But when you dropped and made your way to shore, you stuck close to Rick. He had your back and you had his.

As it turned out, Blackguard had set you all up, giving your location to the enemy and getting his face blown off for his efforts. You watched as your elite team of killers was picked off one by one. Harley had run off and you were panicking that you didn’t have an eye on her. You needed her to get out of this alive.

“Follow me!” Rick shouted, nodding his head towards his intended destination - the forest.

“But Harley and Boomer are-” you shut your mouth as Mongal’s actions finally took their toll on Boomer. But maybe you could fix it, if you could use your powers-

“No, we have to get out of here, or we’re next,” Rick grasped at your arm and dragged you into a full out sprint towards the forest, gunshots echoing behind you. You slapped his hand away once you were deep in the forest, though the sky was darkening you cut your eyes to his.

“Harley is all I have,” you spat.

“She’s my friend too, you know,” he frowned. You’d never used that tone on him before. “She can handle herself,” as much as you were loath to admit it, he was right. She was crazy but she could get out of nearly any situation. You sighed and bent over, hands on your knees as you calmed your breathing.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” you muttered, but you gasped when a sudden pain shot through your right bicep.

“That was a warning shot,” you heard a voice call out in accented English.

“A warning shot?” Rick shouted as he crossed over to you, pulling you close to him and inspecting the wound. It went straight through, but it was bleeding badly. “Warning shots are supposed to be in the ground, not at people,” he spat, considering running but you were in too much pain and losing too much blood. “Don’t use your powers in front of them,” his lips brushed against your ear and you nodded imperceptibly. You wouldn’t want to show your hand.

“Take the colonel,” a woman’s voice called and you glanced at him, wide eyed as they dragged him off of you.

“Hey, hey!” He shouted, reaching out as you fell to your knees, putting pressure on your wound. If you could stifle the bleeding until they left you alone you could use your powers to fix it.

“Leave the girl,” the voice passed by you and you stared at Rick, panicking but unable to stop them as three men held him back and dragged him away. You couldn’t help but think this was the worst case scenario. The enemy was taking your leader but you had lost too much blood to put up a fight.

As the rest of the enemies passed you, you sat back on your heels, but one of them roughly bumped into you, making you lose your grip on your arm. The blood flow was back at full force and the world turned black around the edges. You were alone. You put your left hand face up in front of you, and your right hand an inch above it face down. Your hands were parallel to each other and you tried to gather your strength to use your powers, but you couldn’t. You hadn’t used them in so long and you had lost a lot of blood. The last thought you had before you lost consciousness was of Rick’s panicking face.

You awoke to gentle hands cleaning your wound with what you assumed was water and opened your eyes when you felt a tight bandage wrapping around your arm. It was a young girl, younger than you.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” she smiled softly.

“She’s awake?” A gruff voice came from behind you and you craned your neck to see a team of people behind you.

“Let’s get going then” another man said. “You patched her up, she can go on her own from here.”

“Who are you?” You asked the girl.

“We’re the Suicide Squad,” the dark skinned man growled. “Here to collect our Colonel.”

“No,” you sat up, quietly thanking the girl for patching you up. “I’m a part of the Suicide Squad,” you squinted in the early morning darkness. Was that… DuBois?

“Bloodsport?” You asked cautiously. Were these all other prisoners from Belle Reve?

“Who are you?” The guy in red and white asked you… Was that Peacemaker?

“They call me Chronos, but you might know me as the Masked Marauder,” you spoke cautiously.

“The thief? Why would they have a thief on a mission like this?” Peacemaker asked and you shrugged.

“My powers are useful for other things.”

“Chronos is a myth though, right?” A smaller man walked over to you, in a suit you didn’t recognize.

You shook your head. But that wasn’t the point, you had picked up on something DuBois had said.

“You’re looking for the Colonel?” You stood and approached the group, which apparently included a shark man.

“Yup, Colonel Flag was taken by enemies and is alive at their camp. He is our first mission,” DuBois spoke and you nodded.

“I’m coming with you. Colonel Flag helped me get out of the bloodbath at the beach. The enemy camp people shot me and took him away,” you frowned at the thought and the girl - Ratcatcher 2, she had specified - gasped.

“Why didn’t they take you, too?” She asked.

“I think they knew I wasn’t important. They noticed immediately that Flag was a military officer and took him away.” Likely to be tortured, you thought to yourself but didn’t say aloud.

“Well, let’s get going then,” Peacemaker said brightly and the group of you made your way to the enemy camp. You were lost in your thoughts on the way there. You weren’t sure whether or not you would kill anybody. Maybe hurt them or knock them out. You hadn’t killed since your time with the military. But they’d taken Rick and left you for dead. So you had very little qualms hurting them.

Turns out, it didn’t matter. Bloodsport and Peacemaker made what was almost a competition out of who could kill the most people in the sneakiest ways, but it got bloodier and bloodier as the rest of you approached the glowing tent. You heard laughter and glanced in, borrowed gun pointed in as you parted the flaps of the tent. But you immediately put your gun down. Rick was shirtless and all patched up, laughing with a woman who you’d seen the dark of the night before. You couldn’t help the rising feeling of jealousy, you’d never have that with Rick. The easy jokes, the equal ground. You were a prisoner, and you would likely die as one. But you couldn’t help the breathy “Rick,” that came out of your mouth when you realized that he was okay, and he wasn’t being tortured by enemies. He snapped his head over to you and stood.

“You’re okay,” he made his way over to you in three long strides, as if he couldn’t wait to be near you, and your heart swelled at the thought.

“So are you,” you whispered, and took a moment to look him over and let your body sag a little. You’d been so worked up that you had barely felt the pain of your wound.

“I didn’t know you were important to each other, I wouldn’t have let them shoot you,” the woman sort of apologized with a half smile and stood. “Let me get you something for the pain.”

It was then that she noticed the very silent camp, commented on it, and that’s when you looked down at your feet. Whoops, you’d let Bloodsport and Peacemaker kill an entire camp of rebels. People who were technically on your side. Waller had given you bad information.

Rick brushed a hand down your good arm and gently held you, pressing his thumb into your elbow as if making sure you were okay, that your pulse was strong.

“I was so worried,” he muttered, and you were sure only you heard it.

“So was I,” you looked up into his eyes, and if there wasn’t an audience, you would have kissed him then and there. Alas, you had another mission. Well, two. The first was to get the Thinker. The second one was to get Harley, and that was a plan you were ready for. You were down to clown, as Harley might say. As long as you had Rick by your side, you could do anything you set your minds to.

The Thinker would be frequenting one of his favorite bars, and as you left the shark dude in the bus you felt yourself relaxing a little upon entry. You knew bars. You knew how to blend in. You glanced over your shoulder, you couldn’t say the same for your teammates. So, you slinked away and found your way to the bar. The leader of the rebel camp provided you with a pair of stretchy black skinny jeans and a MCR band t-shirt. You’d fought harder battles in more confined clothing, so this wasn’t too bad.

“Una cerveza, por favor,” you spoke fluently. You grew up in the country, but your family was affluent and taught you several languages so that you could travel safely and easily.

The bartender smiled and grabbed you a bottle, and you watched the team gather around a table. They stuck out horribly, and you shook your head. Maybe with a few drinks in them they would loosen up, you watched as Peacemaker ordered drinks and nursed your own. You used to like drinking with friends, but other than Rick (and the missing Harley) you didn’t consider these people your friends. You had a tentative relationship with the Ratcatcher 2, and you were beginning to begrudgingly like Bloodsport. But, Polka-Dot Man freaked you out, Nanaue had the English understanding of a kindergartener, and Peacemaker was a dick.

“You going to join the team?” You failed to notice Rick coming over to you, and rolled your eyes, taking a sip as you mulled over your answer.

“Only if they start looking more interesting. You look like a bunch of tourists. I’d like to gather intel,” you scrunched up your nose at Rick and sipped at your beer.

“Yeah, you really look like you’re gathering intel, darlin’,” it was Rick’s turn to roll his eyes. “Sitting here, sipping on a beer and staring at us.”

You scoffed. How dare he call you out. But it was true, you were busy judging the team to actually get any good information.

“Fine, I’ll join you,” you swigged the last of your beer and glanced at the bartender. “¡Uno más!” You exclaimed, and the man smiled at you before grabbing you another ice cold bottle.

“You speak Spanish?” Rick raised an eyebrow at you.

“I speak a lot of languages,” you shrugged and took a swig of the drink before making your way to the now empty table. It seemed like your compatriots decided to go dancing. That left you with Rick.

“Oh yeah, and how did you come to know so many?” He seemed genuinely interested, though you were hesitant to talk about your past.

“My parents were diplomats and wanted me to be able to travel with them, so they had me learn Spanish, French, German, and Russian by the best tutors money could offer,” you shrugged, sort of stilted, at his curious glance.

“And I thought you were a thief because you were poor,” he shook his head with a smile. “Waller has very little info on you so I wasn’t sure.”

“My parents were cruel, and utilized their money to help bad people get into power,” you looked down at your lap. “I resent the things they taught me. And I tried my best to right the wrongs that people like them did.”

Rick sobered up and placed a hand on your arm.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he frowned and brushed his thumb over your skin. “I knew a little bit about your thievery and who you robbed and why, but it makes sense now. You were trying to help. I get it,” he sighed and took a sip of his drink while you downed yours. You hated talking about your family. You wanted to move on to something else. Anything else.

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore,” you sighed, brushing your hair out of your face and looking up into those beautiful eyes.

“What would you like to talk about then?” he whispered, not willing to break the reverie you were in. You were close, closer than you should be.

“I want to talk about you, Colonel,” you smirked and placed a delicate hand on his thigh. He dragged his eyes from that hand slowly up to your face.

“What do you wanna know, beautiful?” He smirked and blinked those pretty eyes at you. You’d both had too much to drink. It was a little scary making the first move, but you found him incredibly attractive and you were 99% sure he returned your feelings.

“I want to know,” you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. “What those lips would feel like against mine,” you wondered aloud, and his sharp inhale was all you had to go on before a gentle hand was turning your face to his. The kiss was gentle, tentative even, but that’s not what you wanted. You wanted everything that Rick Flag could give you and you tightened your grip on his thigh, hoping to convey your thoughts, when everything went to shit. Peacemaker jerked Rick away from you and Cleo pulled you towards a darkened corner of the room.

“They’re asking for IDs,” she hissed, pulling you towards where you saw Abner had the Thinker.

“But what about-” she shushed you as you glanced back, making strained eye contact with Rick. Maybe you could use your powers to get out of this. But… You looked at the Thinker. This was the mission. You looked back at Rick. Would you get your brains blown out to save him?

You made your way to the exit, finding your way to the van and getting out of there. You were only vaguely paying attention while you were in pursuit of the truck holding your … friends? You panicked for a moment when it crashed, and when you pulled to a stop you sprinted out of the van and over to the fiery wreckage, thoughts racing about what could have happened to Rick when he, Bloodsport, and Peacemaker burst through the doors like some sort of boy band.

You couldn’t care less though as you threw yourself into his surprised arms and pressed your lips to his.

“That was stressful and I didn’t like it,” you muttered against his lips, barely noticing Bloodsport rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Rick smiled and pulled away to look down at you. “This is pretty nice.”

You scoffed and grabbed at his hand, not willing to let go just yet, and dragged him to your vehicle.

“Shut it,” you muttered as you all gathered. All he responded with was a light chuckle.

Your next mission was saving Harley, but as it turned out, she was no damsel. You were on your way into the place she was being held when she walked down the street towards you.

“Hey, guys! Whatcha doin?” She was smiling brightly and you rolled your eyes at the situation before hugging her.

“We’re here to save you, obviously,” you muttered and she looked from you over your shoulder to Rick.

“You came back for me?” She whispered and Rick came over to you, Bloodsport rolling his eyes in the background.

“Yeah, it was a really good plan, too,” Rick muttered, but still hugged back when Harley threw herself into his arms.

“Well I can go back in and let you save me,” she offered and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not necessary, Harley. Now that we have you we can get back to the mission,” you patted her on the back and nodded to the rest of your team.

Now, you could say that you acted heroically and saved the day, but you and your ragtag team… You were amateur heroes. It was a shitshow. You were setting up explosives with Nanaue when you had that bad feeling again. The one you had when you were going into that bank in Gotham. Maybe it was your intuition, but you knew some shit was about to go down.

“Keep at it!” You shouted at the King Shark and raced your way down the stairs to where Peacemaker and Rick were headed. If you remembered their part of the plan correctly, they were with the Thinker, but something went wrong when you were about halfway down.

“Fuck!” You shouted as you heard a great BOOM. They’d set off the explosives too early. Maybe you should have stayed… You looked up at the dust coming down from above. Your brain was telling you to get out before the building collapsed on you, but your gut was telling you to make it to Rick.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you chanted as you raced down the stairwell, crumbling concrete raining down as you danced around to avoid it. Your stomach cramped in warning, and you crouched into a ball as the floor beneath you gave out and you fell several floors. When your falling came to a halt you took stock. There was rubble above you, but not crushing you. Your breathing was heavy and your heart raced as you clawed your way towards the fluorescent lighting. You grunted and groaned as your fingernails cracked and your fingers bloodied, but you were not about to die here.

You crawled out into the open and peered through the dark, dusty hallway. You didn’t see anybody, but you heard a scuffle and made your way towards the grunting and smashing sounds. The alarm bells started going off in your brain again, and you started running. Your feet pounded against the jagged edges of concrete on the ground but you didn’t stop. You whipped your pistol out when you came to the source of the sounds, but you froze.

Your eyes took in the scene very quickly, and you knew there was a decision to be made. You saw Cleo’s figure in the dark corner, eyes shining in the dusty haze. The others hadn’t seen her yet. At first glance, Rick was atop Peacemaker, and your initial thought was that he was winning this fight. But his eyes, wide and shocked, locked onto yours for merely a moment before he collapsed forward, a dead weight, and all of your breath left your body.

You also saw Peacemaker’s eyes shoot to a computer chip that had scattered across the floor right before you came in. Right before they shot over to you.

But you knew this: Peacemaker didn’t know who you were. He had no clue what you were capable of. He roughly pushed Rick’s body off of himself, but you were faster.

You put your hands in front of you, parallel to each other, and green mist started swirling around between them. You hadn’t had to use your powers to alter a scene this big or intense before, usually just using them on your own body, but you could do this. For Rick.

Suddenly everything slowed down, Peacemaker was still lying on the ground, Rick was face-first in the rubble, and Cleo was crouched in the dark, hand reaching out to the chip.

But you were alive as your powers raced through you. You had seen yourself in a mirror once as you used your powers, and you could imagine how you looked to them. Glowing green veins covered your skin as you altered the fabric of the universe itself. A wind picked up in the room, swirling in tandem with the green mist in your hands. You only needed a few moments. You didn’t need to go back and stop the fight, you just had to stop Peacemaker. You contorted your fingers and molded the green mist to your liking before throwing your arms wide, the green mist expanding to encapsulate yourself and the two men. You didn’t need to include Cleo, she wasn’t involved. The wind whipped around, the green mist blinding everyone but you, and things started to go into motion.

It would all happen very quickly for everyone involved. Just a rewind. But for you, you had to painstakingly watch as Rick’s body rose above Peacemaker, and you had to watch as the ceramic in his heart was drawn out. You had handcrafted this reality and you were forced to watch as your handiwork took place. But you had gotten to the moment you needed. They were near the end of the fight, Peacemaker had slammed Rick into a wall, and with a wave of your hand, the mist disappeared and everything was clear.

“Wait, what?” Peacemaker shot his eyes over to you, but he was too slow in his understanding. You had already whipped your pistol out of its holster and shot him twice in the throat. He grasped at his, trying to stifle the bleeding and crumpling to the ground, but your eyes were focused on Rick. A very shocked, but very alive Rick.

“What did you do?” He asked, and you weren’t sure if that was disgust or wonder in his voice, so you turned, walked slowly over to Cleo (who had witnessed the whole thing through a haze of green), and picked up the chip.

“I believe you were looking for this?” You asked, holding it out in front of yourself to him. He gulped, walking over to you, but your strength was draining from with a display of your powers. When he pulled the chip out of your hand and tucked it into your utility belt, you wavered, edges of your vision darkening as you slowly knelt to the ground.

“What are you doing, we need to get out of here?” Cleo shouted at you, but you waved her off.

“I just need to sit for a moment,” but your voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

“No you don’t,” Rick hauled you up by your armpits and lifted you into his arms, princess-style. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered and followed Cleo out of the rubble and into the daylight. You squinted, the bright sun blinding you after being underground for so long.

“Shit,” you muttered, shoving your face into Rick’s neck to avoid the light.

“So,” he sounded very casual and you tensed up. “I really thought you weren’t going to use your rewind powers at all, what happened to make you use them?” You bit your lip, not sure what to say.

“Peacemaker killed you,” Cleo answered for you and Rick stopped walking. You winced and looked up at his face.

“I panicked,” you whispered, not sure how he was going to react. But when he turned his head to face you, it was as if he was looking at you for the first time.

“You saved my life?” He asked and it was your turn to gulp.

Okay, so maybe you had feelings for Rick. You knew that. He was a hot piece of ass, and he was kind, and he respected you. And you kissed at the bar and after the van chase. So he definitely knew you liked him. But did he know your feelings were deep enough to save his life and endanger your own in the process? Well… Now he did.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to lose you to that prick,” you tried to shrug it off, but Rick gently let your legs fall and your feet touch the ground. You weren’t sure what was happening until he reached out and pulled you into the warmest, most all-encompassing hug you had ever experienced.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair, and you let yourself sigh and sink into the hug.

“Yeah well now you owe me one,” you muttered jokingly, trying to slightly ease the seriousness of the situation. He squeezed you tightly once more before pulling away and smirking.

“Anything you want, you can have,” he smiled that sunlight-bright smile at you and you blinked at him once before returning his smile.

“You can take me on a date once I’m out of prison, how does that sound?” You asked and his smile widened.

“I can do that.”

“That might be a lot sooner than you think,” Bloodsport had walked over to you and (you assumed) Cleo had explained everything to him. You blinked.

What did he mean by that?

Apparently he meant he was going to threaten Waller and keep the information hostage. It wasn’t exactly what Rick wanted, but he got out with his life, and you didn’t have to go back to prison. You were thinking about it as you settled into your new apartment, only two weeks after fighting Starro and killing Peacemaker, your first kill in years.

You were sitting on your comfy couch watching reruns of Adventure Time when Rick called you.

“Hey,” you answered warmly, and smiled at his voice when he responded.

“Hey, yourself. What’s up?” You drew a blanket over your lap and muted the TV.

“Just relaxing. What’s up with you?”

“I was thinking, how about I take you on that date tonight? I’ll pick you up at seven?” If your instincts were correct, and they usually were, he was nervous about it. He was unsure you would actually want him, considering how sheltered and uneven your relationship had been before. You were quick to dispel that.

“That sounds lovely, Rick,” you couldn’t help but bite your lip in anticipation when he hung up a few minutes later. You also couldn’t help the excited squeal you let out and the little dance you did. Things were finally falling into place.

#rick flag imagine #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag dc #rick flag x you #rick flag x reader #dceu #rick flag #harley quinn #peacemaker #ratcatcher 2 #starro #polka dot man #nanaue #king shark #bloodsport

[rynnaaurelius]

Titan’s Curse But Make It Time Loop: Nico di Angelo Edition

-Okay so I’m at work and not doing much and who wants to actually edit your shit drafts for your actual WIPs so that they’re less bad? No one, that’s who

-So I had an idea: The Titan’s Curse. Also known as the book where people start to die. It sucks to be a demigod in this book--for the first time in the original series, it really does.

-Not everything is fixed, not everyone is saved, and people start to have to make really tough decisions.

-So we fix it. Not by throwing Percy, or Annabeth, or Thalia, or, hell, even Bianca or Grover into the mix.

-Throwing the marginally more grown-up, more trained, and more knowledgeable demigods into the fire, who’d get everyone alive and safe by the third time ‘round? Nah.

-We’re making Nico fix this.

-Because here’s the thing about Nico di Angelo: Sure, he grows up to become a major badass, the Ghost King, so on and so forth. But not yet.

-For now, Nico is baby, a ten-year-old whose experience with any kind of fighting consists of one (1) Capture The Flag game and who’s still half-reliant on Mythomagic to explain what the fuck is happening.

-He’s also got the worst knowledge makeup possible! He knows he’s a son of Hades, which is bad, he knows to stick monsters with the pointy end of swords but nothing else, he knows that Percy Jackson and Thalia Grace are Very Big Deals (But also doesn’t know why beyond parents), and he’s, at best, vaguely aware that there’s some kind of bad prophecy hanging around.

-Also by the end of the book, he’s just been told his last immediate family who isn’t Hades is dead in one of the worst ways possible, and he--pretty irrationally IMO, but Nico’s a kid who has been through a lot recently, so we’re not holding that against him--blames Percy Jackson.

-Literally, you probably can’t pick an angstier or worse choice to run through the time travel trope. I love it.

-We’re making this kid save Bianca’s life via time loop, which happens due to. . .hmm, we’ll say the Fates did it.

-So, Loop 0 = Canon, only at the end of the day on December 21st, after the conversation with Percy, Nico falls asleep only gods know where only to wake up the day he meets Percy Jackson:

Loop 1:

-Nico doesn’t actually change anything meaningful at first.

-Spends most of it shellshocked and not unconvinced the last week (For him, anyway) wasn’t a horrible nightmare; shellshocked and staring at Percy Jackson, anyway.

-(Percy’s wondering what’s up with the silent kid his sister had talked up as a cheerful chatterbox)

-It’s only when Bianca agrees to join the quest for Artemis that he starts kicking up a fuss; demanding to go, screaming that she can’t leave him even more, not again.

-(Bianca hesitates; briefly, enough to remind Nico that she loves him. But she’s not their mother, and she needs this)

-Bianca still dies. Percy comes back pale and guilty. Nico doesn’t yell at him when he returns--he already knows. He accepts the Hades figurine so that he can throw it into the lake.

-He slinks off back into Cabin Eleven and falls asleep, hoping desperately that he gets a third chance.

Loop 2:

-He does.

Loop 3:

-After a very painful death at the hands of Dr. Thorn, Nico, generally being a straightforward person at this stage of life, takes the obvious path this time around: He tries to tell Bianca--who brushes it off as a dream.

-Annabeth still goes over the cliff when Nico takes the initiative of attaching himself and his sister to Percy Jackson and Thalia Grace at the dance. He tries to tell Percy and Thalia when Bianca still joins the Hunt, promising Nico that whatever he saw, she’ll be extra careful.

-(Bianca’s fearful of what Nico's saying, and thinks that if these sworn sisters can’t keep her safe, who can?)

-Artemis gives Nico a speculative look but agrees when he begs her to protect Bianca at all costs.

-He doesn’t get on the quest. Being a reasonable demigod of questionable parentage, he sneaks out of camp.

-He gets caught, because despite being aware of his awesome new powers, he doesn’t know how to use them, and is still a ten-year-old who can barely hold a sword the right way.

-He gives Percy the puppy dog eyes and shows off said awesome new powers. Percy forces him back.

-Nico follows him.

-Repeat until Percy dies saving Nico from the Nemean Lion in Washington, DC.

-Nico can’t find it in himself to be terribly sad--especially when he doesn’t make it much longer.

Loop 4:

-He’s really stuck like this, huh?

-Oh, Di Immortales.

-(Before Percy gets his chest ripped to shreds by a lion and Nico meets skeleton cats, he learned how to hold a sword properly and curse fluently in Greek. Percy probably only meant to teach him one of those things)

-In unrelated news: Having a big crush on a guy who thinks he’s only known you for a couple hours? Terrible.

-Trying to hate the guy who let your sister die when he’s that stupid and nice? Even worse.

-That stupid lion.

Loop 5, 6, 7, 8, 9:

-Nico repeats: That stupid lion.

-Somewhere in Loop 7 he starts to steal supplies out of the camp store when he follows Percy following the quest.

-They forcefeed the lion enough trail mix and frozen ice cream in Loop 9 that they don’t die this time.

-At least until someone called the General shows up and Nico’s dead before he can raise his sword.

Loop 10:

-Nico wakes up in his and Bianca’s room in Westover and starts crying. Bianca tells the headmaster they’re both sick and Nico lets her hold him all day.

-They fall asleep and Nico swears he won’t let her die again.

Loop 11, 12, 13:

-He wakes up and he still can’t get out of bed without feeling that blade cutting between his ribs, burning like it’s on fire.

-Gods, he’s so sorry, Bianca. Dispiace tanto.

Loop 14:

-He can get up without feeling like he’s about to die again. Bianca fusses but assumes it was just a bad dream.

-Nico is caught stealing and can’t follow Percy until it’s too late.

-Everyone assumes this means he’s a son of Hermes, however, and Nico can’t correct them without opening his mouth and letting the sobbing laughter out.

-Figuring he’s about to get another chance next round anyway, he takes Travis and Connor Stoll up on their offer to learn a thing or two so that he doesn’t get Cabin Eleven slapped with kitchen duty from now until Doomsday.

-He likes the Stolls. He spent most of the time, pre-looping, actively avoiding everyone at camp as he waited for Bianca and Percy to come back, but they’re not that bad.

-Percy comes back with the figurine and no sister and Nico remembers why he’s stuck.

Loop 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23:

-After Loop 12 and being killed in Washington DC again, Nico realizes: He needs to learn how to fight.

-Unless he gets killed early or refuses to leave Westover, the loop resets after seven days. So, he has seven days to train each time.

-He gets to camp, finds the arena, and meets Clarisse La Rue. He demands she teach him how to kill monsters.

-She laughs, and tells him that attitude in his size will make monsters easy to kill, they’ll laugh so hard.

-Clarisse teaches him how to swing a sword each time--but only after mocking his unamused face.

-Somehow, Percy coming back with news of Bianca’s death only hurts more each time.

Loop 24:

-Nico wakes up before Bianca this time. He looks over at her bed and knows. He’s got to try this time.

-It’s disturbingly easy making friends with Percy Jackson after the last loops.

-Bessie’s new. Cute, but new.

-Nico wonders just how much he’s missed in the past--he thinks of Annabeth Chase, and hopes she hasn’t been dying each time.

-Percy doesn’t even argue when Nico shows up in the stables with a bag slung over his shoulder, and the sword he’s been stealing out of the shed strapped to his hip.

-Nico suggests the ice cream--again--to Percy in DC before

-Nico might be getting the hang of this.

Loop 25:

-Nico is not getting the hang of this.

-Zoë Nightshade’s refusal to accept Percy and Nico on the quest--violating a prophecy, and gods, Nico’s curious if that prophecy ever mentioned this--has so far gotten them attacked and killed by spartoi once.

-And again. As Nico bleeds out on the floor, he watches a panicked blond man--a demigod--plead for mercy.

-Isn’t he on the other side?

Loop 26:

-His name is Luke Castellan and he apparently wants the gods dead.

-Nico can relate at this point.

-The General is Atlas, and Nico knows enough about Greek mythology, real and wrong, at this point to know that is bad.

Loop 27:

-Twenty-six tries, but they finally make it out of DC. Threatening the questers with Atlas killing them all is more than enough.

-For the first time, Nico doesn’t know what happens next. He glues himself to Bianca’s side and glares at anything suspicious.

-With help that Percy refuses to name, even when Nico tries his hardest, they go to New Mexico.

-There’s a boar and it’s so close, they make it to what the others are calling “the junkyard of the gods”.

-Nico sees the Hades figurine on the ground.

-Bianca grins in delight and picks it up, calling for him.

-He can’t help it.

-Nico starts screaming.

Loop 28:

-His sister’s murderer was never Percy Jackson.

-His sister’s murderer was a force of mechanics that makes Nico fully understand, for the first time, what the gods are, beyond stats on a card.

-Talos.

-Nico is going to destroy him.

Loop 29:

-She dies.

Loop 30:

-Again.

Loop 31:

-Again.

-Loop 32, 33, 34, 3536373839FortyFo r t y O n  e--:

-Again. Again. Again. Again again againagainagainagainAGAIN--

Loop 42:

-Nico gets out of bed. He finds Percy Jackson at the dance, hugs him, and tells him he’s sorry.

-Nico walks outside and waits for Dr. Thorn in the snow. He can feel the shadows curling at the edge of the wood like a sixth sense, now. Waiting for him to summon the restless dead out of them.

-So many attempts to save his sister, ranging from sacrificing himself to sacrificing Percy--not that Percy needs the push, Nico has found--to any and all members of the quest.

-She dies. Always, always dies. Whatever Nico does, that junkyard is full of the death of Bianca di Angelo.

-He tried avoiding it. Once. Loop 33. Nico threw such a fit he’s surprised he wasn’t sent back to Camp Half-Blood by the Hunters, but it kept them out of the junkyard.

-He tries not to remember how little was left of his sister’s body by the monsters that time.

-Son of Hades. After all this time, Nico’s beginning to wonder if this is what it means. Death and death and death.

-Dr. Thorn walks outside, and Nico can feel a ghoulish grin crossing his face that has no place on a ten-year-old.

-One of them is going to die, this loop. And Nico will not go to New Mexico.

Loop 43:

-Nico wonders if there was a past life of his he needs to remember. Who could he have made this angry?

-He lies to Bianca and they stay in Westover again this time. Better than death, anyway.

Loop 44:

-Nico tries a different tack this time. A more roundabout way of things.

-He takes Bianca and throws the two of them in the way of the battle with the manticore.

-After all this time, he still doesn’t know much about Annabeth Chase. She gets kidnapped and returned safely to Percy every time, to the best of his knowledge.

-Nico dies holding up the sky, but at least Bianca lives, under the protection of Artemis.

Loop 45:

-Nico looks in the mirror and studies the new grey streak with fascination. And, maybe, some hope.

-Things can change.

Loop 46, 47, 48, 49, 50:

-Nico gets kidnapped a few times. Once, he’s killed in a rage by a Titan with horns, but it’s quick. Mostly, he holds up the sky to get Artemis out.

-She looks at him strangely each time and Nico wonders if she can see what he’s done.

Loop 51:

-They figure out he’s a son of Hades. They offer him Olympus. Olympus and Bessie--the Ophiotaurus, rather.

-Nico says no.

Loop 52:

-Nico says yes.

Loop 53:

-Being on the verge of overthrowing the gods and keeping everyone he’s grown to care for--in the case of several Hunters, against his will; in Percy Jackson’s case, Nico loves him as much as he hates him at this point--doesn’t do much, apparently.

-Nico stays in Westover again. He resists the urge to tell Bianca that would-be destroyers of Olympus don’t need to brush their hair, whatever she says.

Loop 54:

-Nico goes over the edge of the cliff again, but with Percy Jackson.

-This isn’t the first time; in Loop 46, Percy had taken the sky for both the sake of Artemis and Nico until it killed him.

-What’s different, is Nico’s in the middle of what’s become the usual panic attack when he’s about to die for the hundredth time, and his powers react.

-Percy holds him close and calls him cousin. Tells him he’ll never leave Nico.

-You have no idea, Nico whispers. You can’t leave me.

-You think I want to? Percy whispers back. You’re not alone, Nico.

-Nico’s sobbing sounds like laughter.

Loop 55:

-Nico tells Percy the truth for the third time. This is the first time he hasn’t told Bianca first.

-They’ve just found the Erymanthian Boar, Thalia’s told Nico his goth needs work--whatever that means--and Nico’s bracing himself for the junkyard again.

-Getting kidnapped by the Titans really gets old after a while.

-He still has the grey streak, and no number of excuses will fully soothe his sister, but the Hunt’s a good distraction from it.

-Nico doesn’t blame Bianca anymore for it. He thinks.

-Nearly a year into this loop and Nico’s finding it hard to blame anyone for much of anything, anymore. Especially when he sees what she’s faced. Again. And again.

-For now, this time, Percy Jackson is staring at Nico with wide eyes at what Nico’s told him--through these loops, Nico’s starting to wonder if he now knows more about Percy than Percy’s own best friends--and says he believes him.

-Once, Nico would’ve exploded from joy. Now, he just sighs and nods.

-Percy tells him how to condense the conversation for the next loop. He advises Nico to research Talos, “like Annabeth would.”

-He advises Nico to warn Percy’s next loop self about Annabeth’s kidnapping. Nico wonders if he’s gone insane that he’s considering it.

-Bianca dies.

Loop 56:

-Nico makes the executive decision this time to try and befriend Annabeth Chase. As such, he takes Percy’s advice.

Loop 57:

-It takes him two tries to befriend Annabeth Chase and learn about Talos.

Loop 58:

-Three times.

-But the nail. The nail in the ankle of Talos.

Loop 59:

-He hangs back at camp again this time and meets Charles Beckendorf, head of Cabin Nine, and son of Hephaestus.

-Nico figures that short of finding the god himself and committing temporary suicide--not that it hasn’t crossed Nico’s mind--his son will have to do.

-(He’s tried his hand at summoning ghosts, but Daedalus refuses to show, for some reason)

-Beckendorf frowns and tells Nico he would have to see Talos himself.

-Nico hadn’t realized just how much cursing he had picked up off of Percy and Thalia until that moment.

Loop 60:

-Nico knows what the prophecy says. One shall be lost in the land without rain.

-He knows it’s why he’s been failing so much.

-The trouble is, he no longer cares.

Loop 61:

-It took him a try, but he gets Beckendorf on the quest, prepared to defeat the Talos prototype.

Loop 62:

-Strike that, two tries.

-Nico really hates the Nemean Lion.

Loop 63, 64:

-Nico has solved half a problem: How to defeat Talos without putting someone inside the robot.

-The other half of the problem is now that they are all electrocuted by a dying automaton for their efforts.

Loop 65:

-Beckendorf’s crush--girlfriend? crush, they’re both insisting--Silena Beauregard comes along this time. Nico won’t complain over the extra manpower, even if he’s positive that eight campers and Hunters are patent overkill for one quest.

-Silena pulls Bianca out of the wreckage. Nico’s heart stops.

-Silena’s crying when she mentions that if they had been a bit earlier, she could have been revived.

-Nico wonders if Thalia’s going to stab him as he starts whooping. And takes notes about where Talos falls.

Loop 66:

-Nico swears, if Percy Jackson tries to sacrifice himself for Annabeth Chase one more time--

Loop 67:

-Bianca.

-I found you, he sobs. I found you.

-Gods damn the Hoover Dam.

Loop 68:

-And again.

-Despite having the distinct inkling at this point that he doesn’t much like like girls, Nico could kiss Silena Beauregard and Thalia Grace when they manage to revive his sister each time.

-She’s shaky and leaning on him and was dead, he could see her soul floating away--

-But she’s there.

-Nico refuses to let his sister out of the sight at the Hoover Dam and Percy befriends the Naiads this time.

-At least, until the Titans--who Nico made the very big mistake of taunting at DC--sends monsters he can’t control.

Loop 69, 70, 71, 72, 73:

-They keep dying in various combinations at the Hoover Dam now that Nico’s figured out how to save Bianca.

-At least, until he gets separated from Percy in Loop 73 and he meets a redheaded girl with a penchant for calling Nico pint-size.

-Athena dislikes Percy, Nico, Bianca, and Thalia in equal measure. Having learned of the Great Prophecy in Loop 16 and Percy’s mooning over Annabeth in. . .well, every loop, Nico can’t quite blame her.

Loop 74:

-Her name is Rachel Elizabeth Dare and Nico likes her. She takes none of their shit and if it weren’t for the fact that they already have eight people on the quest, he’d want to take her along.

-Bianca gets in a fight with the Old Man of the Sea. Thalia electrocutes him when he throws Bianca in the bay.

Loop 75:

-Nico wakes up in Westover with the distinct feeling that he was drowned on dry land.

-He stays in bed shivering, that day.

Loop 76:

-Atlas is the father of Zoë Nightshade. Nico learned this around Loop 50. He had realized around five loops ago that this probably meant she was going to die “by a parent’s hand.”

-He hadn’t realized that it was going to hurt to watch.

Loop 77, 78, 79, 80, 81:

-Now that he’s figured things out to about San Francisco, it seems the world is out to get him. The number of fights or mistakes that he either makes himself or has to head off are ridiculous.

Loop 82:

-Nico is so very tired. And wishes he felt ten years old again.

Loop 83:

-If Thalia gets in one more fight with Nereus, Nico's going to walk into the sea.

Loop 84:

-He wanders off, in this one. Grover had been killed in Hoover Dam, so Nico’s waiting for the reset at this point.

-In the meantime, Nico figures there are worse things to do than enjoy a good afternoon in San Francisco. He even meets a boy in a purple shirt.

-His name is Jason and he has hair like the sun.

-If he ever fixes this, Nico wants to find him.

Loop 85:

-Nico’s not fast enough in the junkyard.

-In San Francisco, he tries to find the ugliest, biggest trouble he can find.

-He finds a pair of teenagers in armor who yell Latin at him instead.

Loop 86:

-There’s a dragon that will attack them in the Garden of the Hesperides if they make it angry enough and Nico is so tired.

Loop 87:

- Zoë Nightshade is dead. They’ve won.

-Funny definition of “win”, considering they’ve all almost died this loop about a dozen times each, and Nico can’t explain why he’s crying on the body of a Hunter he only met a week ago, in their eyes.

-She hates him, some loops. More loops, she looks at him with ghosts of old grief in her eyes and hands him a knife.

-The gods execute Bessie, and then, Nico watches as his father turns to him and Bianca with sorrowful eyes.

-Nico should’ve figured, after almost ninety loops.

Loop 88:

-Luke offers one of them the entrails of Bessie again.

-Nico takes them.

Loop 89:

-For all the good it does. Nico wakes up as he does every time now: Powerless, in bed, and with only a grey streak to show for his efforts.

Loop 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98:

-Nico doesn’t know how to save Zoë Nightshade. Bianca, he could trick and fight his way into it. Beckendorf and Silena and Percy and a loophole in lost could save his sister.

-Her, she just. . .dies. Sometimes in DC, sometimes in San Francisco, sometimes on the hills of Mt. Tamalpais. Always at the hands of Atlas.

-Always, being murdered by her father.

-It’s not as gutting as watching his sister die, but it aches more in his chest, somehow.

Loop 99:

-He sticks close to Zoë this time. Same as he’s done with Percy, Annabeth, his sister, Thalia, and Grover, time and time again. But not her, Nico is realizing. Not the clinging he’s achieving now.

-Hoping for. . .something.

-He knows better than to tell the immortal Lieutenant of Artemis the whole truth. The loneliness is enough.

-She’s less frosty to him from the start than to, say, Grover or Percy, after Annabeth goes over the cliff again. When he shows up in DC, she’s much less angry than he’s seen her.

-Along the way to New Mexico and then San Francisco, he listens. He’s grown better at it, this far in. When the others are asleep, when Bianca is being fussed over after Talos, when everyone but them is asleep by the fire, he listens.

-And she tells him about her sisters. About her father, when the world was young and Atlas had looked on every daughter of his with pride. She tells him, pride glistening in her eyes, of the battles she has seen, the hunts she has overseen at the command of a goddess, the monsters she has killed, and the epithets she has been given.

-He doesn’t ask anything of her. Not until they’re in the house of Annabeth’s father, drinking lemonade the night before the battle, and Nico knows she is about to die again.

-What do you want, he asks. You’ve done everything. What’s left?

-She stopped, ice seems to creep over her again, and Nico wondered if he’d hit some sore spot.

-He’s opened his mouth to make his apologies when she answers, so quiet and quick he thinks he’s imagined it.

-To be remembered. When my lady has taken another lieutenant, as she must, and I have gone to where all gods go when they die, I wish for my memory to remain. And. . .

-Nico waits, and ignores the sudden, terrifying thought that he no longer knows what he wants.

-I wish to see the stars again. I was born a nymph of the sunset; starlight is precious to me. I want to see it again.

-Nico dies to preserve the memory of Zoë Nightshade.

100:

-Nico di Angelo wakes up in Westover Hall. He hopes for the last time.

-He does everything right: Annabeth goes over the cliff, his sister joins the Hunt, Percy is soon his friend, and he convinces Silena and Beckendorf to join the quest.

-The Nemean Lion never stands a chance, and Nico is glad to be rid of it.

-His sister lives.

-Nico watches Percy watch Rachel Elizabeth Dare go, looking like he’s just taken a frying pan to the face, and fights the urge to snicker.

-Thalia doesn’t start a fight with Nereus, but Percy certainly does. Nico could’ve sworn he saw the boy with sun-hair again, watching with curiosity.

- Zoë Nightshade dies in the arms of Artemis and is made into the stars she loves so dearly. Nico promises her soul that he will remember.

-For, he has found, the dead have a tendency of remembering things they shouldn’t.

-Annabeth and Percy now have grey streaks to match Nico’s, and Nico can’t wait to spend the rest of his life trying to explain that.

-It’s closer than he would like, but much less close than other lives with Olympus. The Ophiotaurus is alive and safe, and they are all alive.

-As Nico walks out of the council, he looks off to the side. By the fire is the familiar girl with red eyes--the Lady Hestia, looking much closer to Nico’s age than that of the Olympian she is.

-Besides her are three old ladies. Nico’s heard about them from Percy, in Loops 26, 53, 61, and 62.

-One lady holds a ball of string that is the color of a warm umber. The other is knitting what looked suspicious like socks. The last. . .

-Scissors, in one hand. Just as expected. Nico swallowed.

-In the other, was a knot of burnt string, tied to the socks. Behind her, Nico could see discarded string of all colors: an electric blue, a stormy grey, a black that seems to glisten with the promise of a storm, string the soft, hopeful pink of love, yarn run through with bright copper.

-Glowing threads that Nico could only describe as the color of starlight.

-As he walked out, firmly between Percy Jackson and Thalia Grace, the Hunt of Artemis behind him, Nico hears one last promise:

It is done, Nico di Angelo.

#pjo #this is what i do when i'm trying to avoid work #nico di angelo #bianca di angelo #percy jackson #thalia grace #zoe nightshade #i traumatize nico a million times but dont worry #i eventually fix it #annabeth chase #luke castellan #blink-and-you-miss-her-rachel-dare #pjo fanfic #ryn is back on their bullshit #pjo fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #long post #writing #death tw #nico dies a lot #and is a bit suicidal in parts #this is part ridiculous part angst #charles beckendorf #silena beauregard #the titan's curse #this got weird real quick

[gaysimpsstuff]

Fatgum As a Dad

This was inspired by a conversation I had on a discord server, we all have daddy issues and want Fatgum to adopt us so here’s all the shit we collected.

There are some serious themes in here, mostly regarding the biological parents of the kid, but it’s vague as possible. If anyone wants me to add a trigger warning please let me know.

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It all started when he was a kid, when he learned what an orphanage was. One of the kids in his class mentioned being from one, so when he got home he asked his parents about it. 

“Mom, what’s an orphanage?”

“Well, Taishiro, it’s where children that don’t have parents go. Then people can come and adopt the children. Why do you ask.”

“A kid at school said he’s from one, when d’you think he’s gonna get adopted?”

“He might, not all children get adopted. Some of them stay in the orphanage until they’re adults.”

“BUT THAT’S NOT FAIR!” he shouted. “EVERYONE DESERVES A HAPPY CHILDHOOD!”

“Well, honey, life’s not fair. And not everyone gets a happy life. It’s how most villains are made, actually. They were hurt more than everyone else and couldn’t handle it anymore. Not all villains are like that but many are. I think you should stay away from that kid, Taishiro. He might turn out a villain.”

But he didn’t stay away. And he made it his mission to become a pro hero so he could make a ton of money and help as many people as he could. He’d help even villains, keep them from doing something dangerous and inspire hope in them.

Then, he’d adopt any kid who needed a father. All the orphanages and foster programs would be empty. Homeless children off the street and in his house, being fed and clothed. He’d care for each and every one of them, not wanting a single person to feel like they didn’t belong. 

He finds most of his kids at pride parades. He walks around with a shirt that says ‘FREE DAD HUGS’ and a box full of candy. He remembered one of the kids walking up to him slowly.

“Um.. are you Fatgum?” 

“Yes I am!”

“Can I have a hug?”

“Yes you can, Kiddo!” he got down, and the kid put his arms on his stomach (Fatgum’s too big for anyone to fully hug, the dude’s taller than Allmight!) he wrapped his arms around the kid before he heard sniffles. He looked down and saw that the kid was crying.

“M-my parents never hug me like this!” they exclaimed. “They haven’t since I came out. They want to kick me out when I turn thirteen!” 

“Can I have their number? I’m going to... talk to them.”

He ended up taking the kid’s family to court, and since the parents were going to just kick the kid out anyways, they let Fatgum adopt them, but they kept nagging him about how he was ‘going to be raising a little demon.’

“Then call me Lucifer.” he spat right back. Now, that kid’s grown up, has pride flags all around their walls, and doesn’t ever doubt that they’re loved.

Fatgum probably bakes with his kids. Helping them up onto the counter to mix ingredients and play with the dough. If they mess something up or break a glass, it’s fine. He doesn’t yell at them or sigh and shake his head, he just kissed the kid on the forehead and helps them clean up the mess. 

The food always turns out amazing, and Fatgum always tells the kids that. All of his kids are now Gordon Ramsay level chefs and have probably met Gordon Ramsay. 

No matter what their body type is, Fatgum tells his kids their handsome/beautiful and are model worthy. If anyone comments of one of his kid’s body, whether it be negative or... ‘positive’ in a creepy way, you can expect that they’re getting slammed into the ground. No questions asked.

One of Fatgum’s kids is really good at make-up. Like, really good. So Fatgum did the only thing a rational father would do. 

Ask for a make-up job.

It didn’t end all that well...

“Hold still.. I gotta get the eyeliner on.”

“Gosh, Kiddo it’s making my eyes water.” 

“I know, just hold still... aaaand...... done! Now don’t touch it or it’ll smear!”

“Wow, that looks great! You’re really good at this!”

“Thanks, dad- you smeared it already didn’t you?”

“....Nope.”

Fatgum: I'm not gonna do it, it just seemed like a good option. 

Fatgum not even two seconds later after seeing a trans kid crying: now carrying said child on his shoulders while his spouse is chuckling in a corner after signing adoption papers I did it.

This man would get his kids almost anything they wanted. Especially kids with ADD/ADHD/Autism/Tourettes/Anxiety who need stim toys.

Kid: chewing on their nails.

Fatgum: here take this stim toy, and this one, you chew this one so that might help-

Kid ends up with more stim toys than they can count.

Fatgum: just doing his job 

The Daddy Issues Gang: Hi dad- oh shit wait- Hi- I- fuck- trauma ensues. crying

Fatgum: grabs the daddy issues gang we're going to the nearest courtroom say hello to your new father its me im the father ok lets go.

Kid: um, dad can I talk to you? 

 Fatgum, turning around quickly: yes? 

 Me: ‘he moved so quick, he's mad at me, I'm gonna get yelled at’ Sorry, sorry! 

Fatgum: uh, no. I'm getting you ice cream and a new stuffed animal no questions asked

He'd just know when something's wrong, and he’d be great at comforting.

His usual style of comfort is to let the kid sit on his stomach and tell him what’s wrong. His body is one giant pillow for his kids to lay on, he can fit at least eight of them if they cuddle in closely.

Once filmed a commercial dressed as the Cool-Aid man, and all of his kids were in the commercial.

Fatgum: Busts down wall  “OH YEAH!”

Director: “And CUT! Okay, try a little more aggressive-”

Fatgum, in tears: “I don’t wanna scare my kids.”

As stated before, if anyone makes his kids feel bad he’s punching them to the ground, but sometimes he’s not in a position where he can do that. Like if a Karen mom ever comes over.

"Linda stop bringing lemon squares if you're going to talk about my son that way because they're just as sour as your attitude."

Fatgum but he slaps the toxic members of your family and tells them to do better or he's taking you.

Then takes you anyway because you prefer him.

Fatgum with a sweater that says ‘mr dad guy on it’

Fatgum definitely watches ATLA, and quotes Uncle Iroh daily. When his kids are minding their own business they suddenly hear

“Leaves from the vine... falling so slow...” 

INAUDIBLE CHAOS AND PANIC

Fatgum agency cosplayed ATLA characters on Halloween.

Fatgum was Iroh.

Kirishima was Sokka.

Tamaki was either Momo or Appa.

Maybe get a couple others in on it too, Mirio could be Aang and if Kirishima convinces Todoroki to join for a while he’d totally be Zuko.

Fatgum lets his kids squish his face.

Fatgum used to work with a hero who was hard of hearing, so he learned sign language to help them, and he’s got the skill saved in case one of his kids might be deaf.

So one day, Kirishima invites Bakugou on patrol with him, and we all love that headcanon of Bakugou going deaf, so when he gets pissed at something, he starts insulting everyone around him in SL.

Fatgum notices and starts signing back to him.

YOU’RE ALL MOTHERFUCKERS AND I HATE YOU ALL!

Hey, now, let’s calm down and not call everyone motherfuckers.

FUCK YOU TOO

Bakugou...

Everyone thinks that they’re doing magic, because they’re making all these shapes with their hands and keep looking offended at each other.

Now, Fatgum tries his gosh darn hardest to keep up with the memes, so when his kids come home with good grades, he says “That’s so pog, Kiddo!”

All of his kids are embarrassed.

In the middle of a battle, he throws Kirishima at a villain and they both scream “YEET!” the villain afterwords forever lives in fear of the word ‘yeet’ because he thinks it’ll result in a human rock being thrown at his face.

Fatgum can’t text very well, because his fingers are just too damn big-

sonhsisntextsblooklikehthis'

Translation: so his texts look like this

you learn to understand his texts

Someone better get him a large tablet instead of a phone

If he gets married after he adopts the kids, there’s going to be a huge competition over who does the rings and who does the flowers etc.

If any of his kid’s ever bring home a romantic partner, you can bet your ass he’ll be all over them.

“What’s your average grade?”

“E-eighty percent sir!”

“And do you take sports?”

“No sir, I wish to be a biologist.”

“I see, I see...”

“DAD, YOU AREN”T INTERVIEWING MY PARTNER, ARE YOU? YOU SCARED OFF THE LAST THREE I DON’T WANNA DEAL WITH THAT AGAIN!”

“SORRY, KIDDO! I’LL LET THEM GO NOW! I’ve got my fucking eyes on you. Don’t screw this up.”

Hope y’all enjoy this, if y’all want I can write some headcanons for if Fatgum’s kid becomes a villain-

#fatgum #taishiro toyomitsu #fatgum bnha #fatgum mha #mha fatgum #bnha fatgum #dadgum #fatgum as a dad #fatgum is a dad #daddy issues gang