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starlight-write · 2 months

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Grumpy Cat

Requests: Open!

Summary: Angel enjoys messing with his boyfriend a little to much, which leads to an interesting discovery.

Pairings: Ler!Angeldust, Lee!Husk (Romantic)

Warnings: Tickling, Swearing, Nifty being weird

Word Count: 2495

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It was rare to spot the old cat anywhere in the hotel besides the bar, which had become a sort of safe haven for the old grouch that he almost never let anyone else into cause that's his spot goddamnit.

Besides a certain spider, of course. But that's besides the point.

Today was one of those days it seemed as Husker took his opportunity while the main floor was empty to claim a spot on the couch.

Seeing as no one was around, the cat allowed himself to give in to his animal instincts and circled the spot a few times before curling up in a ball and letting himself drift away into a much deserved catnap.

The bartender couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour before he was woken up by faint whispers and giggling right above his head, followed by the tickly sensation of something touching the inside of his ear.

"Be quiet. I want to see how far I can shove this thing in this hole."

"Oh! Oh! We should shove my needle in there next!"

Husk snapped his head up to see Angeldust and Nifty smiling innocently down at him. He noticed his punk ass boyfriend was holding one of his red feathers in his hand.

Husker quickly shook himself off and got up to face the two instigators.

"Alright, alright. You two had your fun, now scram! There are plenty of other assholes in this building to bother if you're that bored." He said, hands making a shoo-ing motion towards the pair.

"But we didn't even get to dissect you yet!" Nifty whined and held her oversized needle up in the air.

"Hey, I think I heard a couple rats in the vents. Go find those and dissect them instead, you freak." Husk pointed.

The girl laughed maniacally and she scurried out of the room.

Husk shivered a bit.

"God that thing freaks me out."

Angeldust fiddled with the feather in his hands. "Eh. The brats actually pretty fun to be around when she's toned down the psycho a bit."

The man noticed the feather once again and pointed an accusatory finger at his boyfriend. "And just where do you get off shoving things into people's ears."

"You really want me to answer that?" He smirked.

Husk just groaned and fell face-down back onto the couch. Still a bit groggy from his nap and annoyed at his boyfriend's antics.

The cat sprawled out over the length of the couch as he repositioned himself, allowing his wings full range to reach up and hide his face away from the other.

"Whatever, go find your little friend a make a porno with the rats or whatever it is you like to do for fun. Just leave me out of it."

"Awww what's wrong? Monday blues got you down, Whiskers?" Angel cooed sweetly before making his way over to the side of the couch where he proceeded to climb on top of the grumpy cats back.

"Off."

"What? I'm putting the feather back right where I found it." Angel teased and began playing with his boyfriends wings.

Husk couldn't stop his wings from twitching a bit under the sporadic touches. Just as he was about to use one to swipe his boyfriend off of the couch, the spider reached up and began carefully massaging the cats shoulders.

Dammit. The cat thought as his entire body instantly turned too putty under his boyfriend's hands. That bastard knew how much this affected him, it's not fair.

The cat grumbled a bit longer but gladly accepted his fate and relaxed into the touch. His body relaxing completely as he began to purr.

Angel laughed softly at the adorable sight. Figured this was a good way to apologize for interrupting the cat's nap.

"See, I'm not all that bad.~"

Husker gave a small hum in response before nuzzling his face in his arms. Stress melting away and Husk found himself drifting off to sleep not even a few minutes later.

The other just smiled softly and enjoyed the feeling of Husk's soft fur running through his fingers.

"Yeah, your grouchy ass definitely needed this." The demon said before leaning give the cat a quick kiss.

A couple more minutes passed. Angel's fingers continued slowly down the other's back tracing lines and shaped before he eventually reached the space near the base of the cat's wings.

The spider didn't even register that his fingers had accidentally brushed against the wings' base until the cat jolted violently as if he had been shocked, followed by a loud yelp.

Husk stiffened. He immediately tried to get out from under his boyfriend while reaching back to push the other's hand.

"A-Alright. That's enough. L-Let me up."

Angel froze, worried he'd somehow hurt him, but proceeded to do the opposite of what his partner asked and instead pushed him back down on the couch.

"Sorry, did I hurt ya?" He asked as he began feeling around the spot for any damage. "Was it just a really sore spot I hit or something else?"

He continued to gently brush around the wings while barely grazing his fingers, worried to cause any more pain. Only more concerning that the other wasn't answering him.

Angel looked up and saw that his boyfriend's shoulders were shaking and both hands covered his mouth with his face buried deep into the cushion.

It took longer than Angel would like to admit for him to finally put the pieces together, the demon smiled widely at the realization.

"Ooooooh. That's what that was?~" The spider leaned forward to whisper in the cat's ear. Pressing down a bit harder to pin the other even more. "Husker~ Don't tell me you're ticklish~"

Time to go. The cat thought as he scrambled and fought to get away from the menace on top of him. That tone itself was enough to tell him his boyfriend's little mood had returned with a vengeance.

The spider laughed and sprouted his two extra sets of arms to help him pin the other in place.

"Dammit!- Let me go! Hrgh!- Get offa me-" Husk squirmed viciously, twisting beneath the other and fighting for any chance to escape. He hissed as his wrists were caught and pinned firmly above his head, the other pairs holding down his wings and hips.

The demon chuckled and Husk could practically hear that shit-eating grin he no doubt has on his stupid face- that fucker.

"Awww you're so cute, trying to get away from me~" The cat snarled as the demon leaned over to whisper in his ear again. "What's wrong, Whiskers? Surely a tough guy like you can't be that sensitive~"

A finger trailed along the top of his wing causing the bartender's whole body to jolt again.

"D-D-Don-Don't you fu-fucking dare."

"Aw what's gottcha so nervous, Husky?~ Am I ruffling your feathers too much?~" Angel teased, using both hands to stroke along the length of the wings.

Husk's face was on fire at this point. The other's teasing was just too much.

He thought he would get used to the other's constant flirting and teasing remarks the other flung at him every single day. But even then, it never failed to make the bartender's face heat up, granted he would never admit it to anyone. For once, being thankful for the fur covering his face.

That, along with the awfully light strokes on his wings was enough for the poor cat to completely shut down. Too flustered to get a single word out.

The cat buried his face in the couch once again as his body shook with repressed laughter.

Angel smiled and began wiggling his fingers as he ran up and down the length of the wings. Husk let out a frustrated growl, trying desperately to block out the horrible tickly feeling. A few grunts managing to escape as the cat tried to bury his face even further into the cushion.

The wings twitched violently under the touch causing the next pair of hands reach up and hold them in place as well.

"Jesus, Husker, is it that bad?" He laughed. "I have have never seen you this worked up before! Gotta say, I'm a little hurt that you've hid this from me for so long~"

The hands were drawing closer and closer to the demon's back and he was having a much harder time forcing down his laughter.

"You ignoring me? I can tell you're smiling, Husker~ You must be enjoying this!"

A high-pitched whine escaped from the cat demon's throat at hearing his sadistic excuse for a partner. He shook his head rapidly and kicked his legs as he tried to distract himself from the butterflies swarming in his stomach.

The hands made their way to the tips of each wing and stayed there for a good second. Husker took this chance to breath and regain some of his composure. Unaware that he'd just confirmed his parter's suspicions.

"You're so cute." Angel smiled. "Do your wings become less sensitive the farther out they go?" He asked, experimentally scribbling the very ends of the appendages.

Husk froze. It's fucking Angel, of course he'd be the one to figure it out. God, Husk hated how perceptive he was when it came to finding new ways to fuck with him. Husker knew he was screwed no matter what he said. He huffed and turned around to look at his tormentor.

He honestly couldn't believe that bastard had the audacity to smile down at him, just as innocent as earlier, as if he wasn't torturing him to death just for the fun of it.

"Oh, fuck you." Husk spat. Not that it mattered, he knew his boyfriend was about to kill him either way.

Although he'd be lying if he said that seeing the other's face morph from faux innocence so downright sinister didn't send a chill down his spine.

"What was that?~" Angel smiled. Hands moved once again across the wing's length only much, much slower than before.

"I-I sai- I-ugh!-" Dammit. Husk cursed his voice for stuttering and began to yank and twist his wrists again more out of embarrassment than thinking he was actually going to get away from this monster on top of him.

"Oh no. You were so bold just a second ago, why not say it again before I make you regret it.~" Fingers still trailing slowly as he tightened his grip around the other's wrists.

"Yo-Yohohou ahaha b-b-bahahahhahaha-" A steady stream of giggles finally escaped from his throat, the demon being to flustered to even try to suppress any of it at this point. The cat twisted and turned violently in a fit of frustration and embarrassment.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Angel chuckled, finally reaching the base of the cat's wings, fingers barely touching the feathers while still making their presence known. "You never answered my question though, does it tickle more the further down I go? I sure hope not. If that's the case, I don't know how you're gonna handle this~" Angel exclaimed as he finally went in for the kill. Using all four of his hands to torment the base and lower section of the winds.

Husk screamed silently at the sensation, before actually screaming as his struggling increase tenfold.

"aaAAAAAAHHH!!! AHAHAHAH- STA-STAHAHAHAAA- FAHAHA-"

Poor Husker was thrown into screaming hysterics almost immediately, that spot was terrible enough by itself, never mind having four hands completely focusing on wrecking him there!

Why the fuck did Angel need to have three pairs of arms??? This isn't fair!!

The poor demon didn't last long, his body soon went completely limp as he resigned himself to his fate, not having anymore energy to resist the overly intense feeling. His voice went silent for a moment as well when his body forced him to take a break from the near constant laughing/screaming.

Suddenly, the tickling stopped and all six hands released their grip on the poor demon.

Husker gasped deeply and collapsed, pulling his arms protectively over his sides now that his wrists were free.

Angel was still on top of him however, only now gently stroking the cat's head.

And that bastard is still laughing.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. You're alright. Breathe."

Husker did just that, gulping in as much air as he could. The mortification of what just happened setting in as more oxygen found its way to his head.

Angel chuckled almost nervously and began sweetly massaging the cat's shoulder blades again.

"Heh. You still alive? You scared me for a second there, got quiet and stopped moving all of a sudden. I almost thought I killed ya." He gave another nervous chuckle.

"Fu-Fuhuhuck y-you, bihihitch." The bartender managed to get out. Still not moving a muscle and recovering from the attack.

"Ah, yeah. I went a little overboard, I'm sorry. You're just so cute, and I've never been able to get a reaction like that out of you before. I really couldn't help myself. Especially when I got you to smile like that- I was- AAH!!"

Husk promptly cut off his boyfriend's rambling by bucking hard enough to finally throw him off the couch.

The demon grunted as hell fell to the floor. Looking back up at his partner who had curled himself into a ball, wings held tightly against him as he regained his composure.

"I am actually gonna kill you for that one." He huffed out.

Angel stood, brushing himself off and nervously ran his finger through his hair.

"Yeah...I kind of deserve it for that one." He laughed and sat back down next to the cat. "Seriously though, you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." He mumbled, his signature grouch finding its way back onto his face. To which Angel reached up and scratched under the cat's chin.

"What are y- eh whatever." God, he hated being a cat. Being forced to enjoy this sort of shit.

Angel laughed. "You still love me?"

Husk cut his eyes over at his pain-in-the-ass boyfriend and huffed.

"Unfortunately."

The other smiled and cupped the cat's face while kissing his forehead.

Angel pulled back, still holding the other's face. Suddenly he got the idea to test out another suspicion of his.

"I could tell you liked it though." The spider said.

The cat stuttered a bit and jerked his head out of the other's grip.

"You are downright impossible! What makes you think I'd enjoy that type of childishness even a little bit?!"

Angel pressed his palms together and smirked at the other.

"Oh, y'know one sign could be how warm your face just got."

Husk froze with his mouth wide open at the sheer amount of audacity-

"That's it!-" He declared as he shot up off the couch and lunged at his boyfriend who was now running for his life, laughing the entire way.

Husk hated when he was right, and now he's gonna kill him for it.

#hazbin hotel tickle #hazbin tickles #hazbin hotel tickling #sfw tickling community #hazbin hotel tickles #sfw tickle community #tickle fic #tickle fluff #huskerdust tickles #ler!angeldust #lee!husk #this took a lot longer than I care to admit #my stuff

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caramelberzatto · 8 months

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permanent // c. berzatto

HELLO <3 here we have one serving of tattoo artist!carmy, made hot to go, fresh this afternoon!!! i may have enjoyed writing this way too much, now i just wanna book more tattoos LMAO anyway ENJOY MWAH LOVE YOU!!!!!!! carmy x gn!reader (no mention of pronouns.) - Clarke xx

“I know a guy.” That’s what your friend had told you when you’d jokingly expressed a desire to get your first tattoo. But then she’d shot the ‘guy’ a message, right then, over brunch, and you’d almost choked on your food. Now, a week later, you were sitting anxiously at the aforementioned friend’s side on a shiny, velvet couch. Fingers drumming on your knees, you glanced at the clock. Four minutes until your session was meant to start.

Through the saloon-style doors, you could hear the overlapping drone of the equipment; you were no stranger to tattoo parlours, having been the support person for many of your friends, but today would be the first time you’d be in the chair, rather than in the waiting room. And this was a new place, a few blocks east of your apartment, but apparently the artist was awesome and charged lower rates because he’d only just opened the parlour.

“How do you know this guy again?” You whispered to your friend, trying to act like you weren’t freaking out a little.

“He did my spine a couple of weeks ago, and he’s so chill. Super hot, too, so that’s a bonus. Something to focus on rather than the sting, y’know? Real nice voice.”

You swallowed, unsure if that last tidbit of information was a good or bad thing. Your friend's phone buzzed in her pocket incessantly and she picked up, excusing herself, leaving you alone in the waiting area, swallowing your panic. For a moment, you considered following her, abandoning your reluctant post by the decorative, vintage globe of the world.

“You my next one?” The doors swung open with a squeak, ruining your escape plan, revealing a man with a messy head of curls and a tragically easy smile. He held his hand out and your gaze snagged on the tattoos on his knuckles before you took it, graciously, and he pulled you up off the couch.

“I think so, yeah,” you said, trying not to let your nervousness show, relishing in the somewhat soothing warmth of his palm.

“Awesome, just follow me through here and hop onto the second chair for me.”

You did as he asked, not even moving of your own accord, simply running on autopilot. He did have a nice voice. Goddamnit.

You swore you could feel the thudding of the bass-heavy music through the floor as you followed him through the parlour, gaze straying to the way his muscles in his back moved beneath the tight black shirt he wore. Once you got comfortable, the man settled down on a wheeled stool, sliding closer to you.

“Alright,” he fiddled with the equipment in his station, straightening the individually-packed needleheads, sifting through a few sheets of paper with various designs on them until he found the one he was looking for. The one you’d picked out after hours of trying to decide.

“First things first, my name’s Carmen.” He paired it with another soft smirk, and it put you at ease.

“Hi,” you said, and it came out embarrassingly breathily. Clearing your throat, you adjusted your position in the chair and offered him your name. It was hard to focus on much after that.

The softness of his touch as he held your wrist, twisting it slightly, so he could place the stencil. The way he looked up at you, a quiet demand to ‘relax for me’ slipping off his tongue like honey. The closeness as he leaned in, the buzz of the needle making your heart leap into your throat. The way his brow furrowed while he focused, carefully tracing the stencilled lines.

“Remember to breathe for me, darlin’.” His voice was a murmur. A quick glance, a locked gaze, a subtle check-in to make sure you were comfortable. “Feelin’ alright?”

“Yeah, fine.” It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, and it probably had something to do with the fact that you were completely and utterly distracted by Carmen. In fact, the sting was almost… soothing?

“Good. You’re doin’ really great, ‘m almost done.”

He was so close, haloed by the overhead light, and you couldn’t tear your gaze from him. His hand was so steady, so careful and practised, and you found your thoughts straying to places they shouldn’t go. Slowly, you crossed one leg over the other, and you could’ve sworn Carmen bit back a smirk.

He pulled back, setting the handpiece down. “There we go.”

There it was, permanent, on your skin. Glancing down at the fresh ink, you smiled. You hadn’t thought you’d love it so much, but it just looked… good.

“Suits you,” Carmen said, raising a conspiratorial eyebrow. “You better come back for more.”

Unable to focus, you could barely manage anything but a ‘thank you’ and an ‘I love it’ as he wrapped your arm in clingfilm, sealing it with a strip of tape. He’d drifted closer, and your knees loosely slotted together; just enough space between you to make you crave less of it.

As he walked you through the aftercare procedure, you found yourself staring at his lips, the way they curved around each word, and only the sudden ‘there you are, all tatted up!’ that announced the return of your friend snapped you out of it. Rising from the chair, blinking away the headrush after sitting for so long, you tried to ignore the searing imprint of his hand on your hip as he stood, too, steadying your stumbling frame.

“I’ll see you again, yeah?” He muttered so only you could hear it, leading you back into the waiting area so you could pay. And a sense of boldness welled up in your chest, and before you could hold them back, a string of words tumbled out.

“Only if you want to.”

#the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #jeremy allen white #tattoo artist!carmy

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yourfavoritewitchbitch · 4 months

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Gator Tillman x Fem! Reader

Badge Bunny AU - This can be read as a stand alone. Read more of their series here.

Summary: Gator gets hurt which leads to confessions from the both of you.

18+ Only Minors DNI!

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Bunny" or "Bun." Established relationship. Roy Tillman (Roy being the ass that he is). Gator gets hurt - no details just the aftermath. Angst. Fluff. Brief smut (not explicit).

Word Count: 2.7K

Gator had left that morning in a rush, skipping breakfast altogether to go help Roy with something. The kind of something that he stayed tight lipped about that always made you feel uneasy.

Up before dawn, rousing you to make sure he could kiss you properly before starting his day and he was out the door.

You'd wish you'd said it then. It's been on the tip of your tongue for weeks now.

That thrumming in your chest with every beat of your heart. That ache that comes along when you know you care about someone. When you love someone. When you finally admit it to yourself.

You'd gotten to work without so much as a “miss you sweet thing” or “tacos tonight” text. It wasn't unusual for him to go a while without hearing from him but today just felt off.

The moment he'd told you he had to be out early; you knew it was trouble.

“Helping dad tomorrow. We've got to clean up a mess.”

You'd started voicing your concerns about Roy more often since he'd finished completely moving in and was no longer under his dad's thumb 24/7.

He started to see things your way, little by little. You were proud of the man he was becoming, no longer seeking his daddy's approval all the time. He was trying to be a better man for himself and for you.

It was another couple of hours with nothing. You'd sent a few texts his way with no reply. Getting worried, you finally called him on break only for it to go straight to voicemail.

You chewed your nail, debating on reaching out to the one person who would know what was going on. But as if my dumb luck, two deputies walked in for lunch, halting your finger from making that call.

You stomped over to them with a purpose.il

Andy noticed you first, giving you a puzzled look.

“Y/N? Figured you'd be up at the hospital.”

It felt like your entire world came crashing down with those words.

“What happened?” It's all you could think to ask.

“Uh, I don't know all the details, just know he's pretty banged up. Did… did no one call you?”

You didn't answer, going straight to the back telling Henry you couldn't stay.

Your fists were clenched so tight around the steering wheel, your knuckles were white. The hospital was only about 15 minutes away, but you couldn't get there fast enough.

You were a nervous wreck walking through the entrance only expecting the worst, heading straight for reception.

“I need to see Gator Tillman.” You spoke as calmly as your voice would allow.

“You family, hon? Only family allowed back there with him right now.”

“I….I'm his girlfriend.” You should have just lied but you figured everyone in this damn town knew Gator. He wasn't married.

“Sorry hon. You'll have to wait out here for now.” She gave you a pitying look.

“Yeah, okay.” You sighed and found the nearest seat.

You'd tried to talk to reception again about 20 minutes later, but they weren't going to budge. Wouldn't even tell you if he was okay.

Each second was agonizing. Your knee was bouncing, and each time the door shot open your head followed to see if it was who you were looking for.

At this rate, the skin around your nails that you were picking would all be bleeding.

Sitting in your own agony, you almost missed the voice behind you.

“No, goddamnit, tell him to go out there now.”

Roy.

You stood up immediately, walking over to catch up with his large strides.

“Roy!” You'd half shouted, as he turned stunned but his face somewhat softened when he saw you.

“Is he okay? Please just tell me he's okay. These assholes won't let me back there since I'm not family. Won't even tell me what's going on.” It all rushed out with one breath.

“Whoa, whoa.” He clasped a hand on your shoulder. You wanted to jerk away from him but stood still.

“He's going to be fine y/n. Broken wrist and bruised ego. But otherwise, he's fine.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief.

“How?” Your eyes welled, from anger. Looking straight at the reason why but you held your tongue.

“He let someone get the drop on him. Let his guard down, but you shouldn't worry about all that. Why don't you go home and wait on him? He should be released in another hour or so. I can get one of the Deputies to drive you.” He smiled, as if trying to be reassuring but it just turned your stomach.

“I'm fine here. I'm not leaving until I see him.” You finally took a step back, as his hand fell from you.

“Suit yourself. Boys, let's go.” He and the rest of his goons skirted past you.

“You aren't staying?!”

He stopped; his jaw tensed before turning to fully face you.

“Duty calls. He’s a grown man. He doesn't need me here. Or you for that matter. He doesn't need some woman making him soft or distracting him.”

He leveled his gaze, stepping closer to you. As much as you didn't want to, you felt small.

“You are just a distraction, aren't you? Clouding his judgment.”

The insinuation that this was somehow your fault was laughable, but his words sat like a stone in the pit of your stomach.

You were rattled, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how he had affected you.

You steeled your gaze, giving him no trace of emotion.

“I think we both know what's always clouding his judgment. What's always in the back of his mind and it's not me.”

His eyes flickered with surprise just for a moment, but you caught it.

“You have a good day y/n. We'll see you real soon.” He tipped his hat and turned to join his crew.

You watched him take his leave. Standing there alone, finally saying fuck it.

You'd seen the general direction he'd come from. Keeping an eye on the front desk, you walked over to the double doors leading to the private emergency rooms.

Luck was on your side, as someone was being wheeled out, you slipped past.

One by one, you peeked your head into doors and through closed curtains. Muttering apologies along the way.

Finally, your eyes spotted familiar boots, ankles crossed at the end of a bed. You sighed but the hammering in your chest didn't stop.

You slowly crept into the room; steps silent as you drew closer to him.

He was sitting back against the pillows, eyes closed with his right arm still against his side. They hadn't set a cast yet.

You silently watched him, his chest with a steady rise and fall, tangible proof he was here.

“Gator?” Your voice was so small you didn't recognize it.

His eyes shot open, immediately finding your glossy ones.

“Bunny? Baby, hey.” He smiled sweetly, studying your face.

You hadn't moved, as if you were scared to actually see him. He had a bruise forming under his right eye, his top lip had a gash in it and you knew his wrist was broken. You could only imagine what else lay beneath his clothes.

‘C’mere.” He reached out to you with his good hand.

You almost lunged at him. Throwing your arms around his neck, careful not to jostle him too much. Pulling his head to your chest, as he wound his arm around your waist, fingers clutched tight with a bruising grip.

He's okay. He's okay. He's okay.

You finally released a breath you'd been holding.

“You scared me, you jackass.” You sniffed, causing him to look up, as your eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.

“Are … are you crying?” He couldn't stop the smile from creeping across his lips, tucking his head back against you.

“No, shut up.” You wiped a stray tear away with the back of your hand.

He wanted to give you shit. Tease you until you were boiling over but he liked this side of you. It was rare to see you soft. Especially soft for him, so he held you a few more minutes letting you run your fingers through his hair.

“Let me see your eye,” you finally spoke.

He raised up, as you placed your palm to his cheek, running your thumb just under his eye and over the ugly purple splotches marring his handsome face.

You turned your attention to his lip, examining it, careful not to touch the angry, reddened wound as your thumb traced along the curve of his bottom lip.

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“S’fine Bunny. I'm fine. Fucker got the jump on me s’all.” He shrugged as if he wasn't sitting here in a hospital room.

“Fine? You're in the fucking hospital. This isn't fine, Gator. If you hadn't been doing Roy's dirty work, you wouldn't be here.” His nonchalant attitude pissed you off. “And where the hell is your phone?”

“Smashed. I told dad to call you.” His brows knit in confusion.

“Of course, well he didn't. I had to hear it from fucking Andy when he came in for lunch.”

“Oh, he must've gotten busy or somethin’.” Mumbling toward the end.

“Right,” you scoff. “How silly of me to forget how busy Sheriff Roy is to not even give his own son's girlfriend a call when he's in the goddamn hospital. I mean I know he hates me but Jesus Christ.”

“Bunny, just stop. He doesn't hate you. Just lower your fuckin’ voice before they kick you out of here.” He kept his tone level, trying to calm you down when he noticed the nurse passing by gave you both a sideways glance.

You took a deep breath. You knew he was right. It wasn't the place for a full-blown melt down.

“Fine but this conversation is far from over.” Pushing your finger at his chest.

He scooted over on the small bed, making room for you as he tucked you into his side, kissing the top of your head.

“It's ok Bun. It'll heal. Not the first time I've been broken probably won't be the last.”

“Yeah, I know.” As long as he was stuck under any of Roy's influence things would never truly change.

They finally got his cast set and quickly got him discharged so you could take him home.

You stopped for a new phone on the way. Then another stop at the gas station so he could buy a new vape. Somewhere along the way his was lost.

You were both unusually quiet on the drive. Your mind was still running over a million different scenarios on how today could have gone.

He huffed that vape almost nonstop. You knew something was bothering him, so you didn't say anything about the lingering scents wafting in the car like you normally would.

“Want me to cook tonight?” Finally breaking the silence, as he snorted.

“Are you tryin’ to finish me off?” He chuckled.

You reached over, hitting his chest with the back of your hand playfully.

It got quiet again as you drew closer to home. He held your hand, thumb rubbing soothingly against yours as he looked out the window absentmindedly.

Once you finally got him settled into the house, he showered, while you threw a frozen pizza in the oven. About as close to a home cooked meal that you could provide.

You both ate in silence at the small table within the kitchen. You watched him scarf the food down with eagerness, wondering if he'd bothered to grab a bite all day.

He finally looked up and sighed, placing the slice he'd been munching back on his plate giving you his full attention.

“Bunny, you're kind of freakin’ me out. Quit staring at me. Why’re you so quiet, huh?”

Never one short on words, yet you were rendered speechless to the simple fact that you didn't know how to tell him how scared you had been at the thought of losing him.

“Gator, baby… when I found out you were in the hospital, my mind went blank. I was so worried I would never see you again.” The sting behind your eyes made itself known.

“Baby, look at me, I'm fi…”

“I swear to God if I hear you say you're fine one more time I'm going to break your other arm. You are not fine. This is not fine.” You laid your hand on his cast.

“It's…” He started again, but you quickly cut back in.

“No, let me finish.” His mouth slipped closed, as he nodded. “If you keep doing this stupid grunt work for Roy, I'm scared that you're going to end up in prison, or God forbid dead. How do you not see that?”

“Bunny, you worry too much.” He shook his head dismissively. “I got this.”

“From where I'm sitting it doesn’t look like you've got shit, Gator. Jesus!” You stood quickly, the chair almost toppling over from the sudden movement.

He was caught off guard but stood to meet you, catching your wrist before you got too far from him.

“Goddamn Bunny, just calm down. What the fuck am I supposed to do? He's my dad.”

“I don't know? Run away, get out of this town. Out of this state! I don't care where, as long we're together. I just need you!” Your eyes began to well, a moment of vulnerability you never let anyone see.

You allowed him to pull you into his chest, as you wound your arms around his waist. He was hurt, yet here he was consoling you.

He pulled you close. His cast pressed into your back, catching the fabric of your shirt slightly. A glaring reminder of the one person standing in-between you.

You push your cheek tight to his chest, breathing him in. The woodsy spice of his body wash still clinging to him, filling your senses.

“Gator, I can't lose you. I…” You took the moment to lift your chin so you could look directly into his eyes. Those hazel eyes flecked with greens and golds, currently half lidded. He looked as tired as you felt.

Your chest felt tight, it's as if the words were carving their way through you. You had to get them out before they ate you alive.

“I love you.”

It came out loud in the quiet space, as it hung in the air between you. Eight letters, three syllables. Words that could change your entire relationship.

A look flickered across his face, before his gaze further softened.

His reply came pressing his lips to yours. Taking his time, slowly working against yours. Languid movements as if you had all the time in the world and maybe right now you did.

He hisses slightly when you kiss him back, pressure hitting his split lip.

You pulled back, “fuck, I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” Pressing his forehead to meet yours. “Say it again, please.”

“I love you, Gator Tillman.”

He slides the tip of his nose against the slope of yours, “I love you, too.” Mumbling across your lips as they meet once more.

You couldn't help the smile that lifted the corners of your mouth, as you pulled back to look at him. His look of pure adoration mirroring yours.

You weren't sure where you'd go from here, but you didn't want to worry about that now. You were in the arms of the man you loved, both safe and sound.

You laid bare before him that night; hearts flayed open with nothing else to hide.

Your lips trailing across his skin. Promising to kiss it better. Every cut, every bruise and every broken bone.

Hips rolling into his, soft and lazy. Sweat slicked chests sliding against each other. Pressed so tightly together you didn't know where you ended, and he began.

Arms slung around his neck, endless “I love yous” shared between breathless kisses. His blunt fingertips digging into the fat of your hips as you rode him.

Drawing out the pleasure induced haze for as long as possible. Moans and desperate pleas. Closer, harder, deeper until you were both satiated.

Falling asleep with the weight of his arm draped across your waist as soft kisses were placed across your shoulders with promises of tomorrow and forever.

In the quiet moments before dawn, you watched him sleep. Chest rhythmically rising and falling with each breath. Fingers lazily tracing patterns into his bare skin.

Hoping against hope that when the sun rose, he could fulfill those promises whispered to you in the dark.

#gator tillman #🐊#gator tillman fluff #gator tillman imagines #gator tillman x you #gator x reader #gator x bunny #badge bunny series #gator tillman x badge bunny #gator smut

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sketchy-rosewitch · 1 year

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Hewo again! I love the way you write Bo! Could I have some angst with him like s/o is really sick/bad fever and Bo is super worried? Because of how sick s/o is, they sleep a lot and wakes up once or twice for medication and water. One day, s/o doesn’t wake up and sleeps all day, and it scares Bo half to death. He stays by their bedside, holding their hand, maybe cuddle, refusing to sleep/eat for a while until s/o wakes up, or until Lester takes his place for Bo to work and take care of himself. When Bo is alone in the garage, he ends up getting upset and throws/breaks things— he’s angry that s/o won’t wake up but he’s more angry that he didn’t take care of them when he first noticed s/o getting sick a couple days before all of this.

Yes! I’m gonna do a happy ending though cause yeah :3 but angsty too obviously

In Sickness and in Health: Bo Sinclair x sick!reader

Masterlist

A/N: sorry it’s short I’m still not used to writing angst, was happy I got this request so I could practice!

Warnings: Angst, Bo freak out,

You’d been in bed for days, you didn’t do much. Ate soup, went pee, slept. You showered once in the last few days, and your fever didn’t go down a bit. You’d told Bo you easily got sick and took a lot more time to recover unlike other people. This was due to your low immune system.

Of course Bo didn’t have a clear understanding of your situation until now. He’d been at your side to help with everything. If he couldn’t be there for some reason, Lester was there.

Bo lays next to your sleeping form. He sighs and buries his face into your neck and cuddles into you. Your breathing is soft. You didn’t wake up at the same time you usually did, Bo tried to carefully wake you but he couldn’t go any farther than a nudge, barely even raised his voice. He was worried but you looked peaceful. Your soft breathing pulls him into a sleep.

Bo wakes hours later, you still haven’t moved from your spot and Bo’s stomach drops a bit. It’s 6 pm, you haven’t gotten up to even pee yet. He pushes you slightly, but all you do is mumble and curl up. He frowns and gets up to make soup for you.

It’s been two days. You haven’t gotten up but your fever did break.

Bo’s been in the shop distracting himself while Lester watches over you. He fumbled with a screw driver and while trying to catch it Bo smacks his hand onto the engine of the car.

“FUCK!” He backs up and slams the hood of the car shut. He growls pushes his tool box to the floor. “Goddamnit. I’m so fucking stupid! Should’ve been better to you. You’re sick and I can’t fucking do this! Can’t live without you! I want you to feel better! I haven’t been able to function or anything. What the hell did you do to me?!” He takes the screw driver and throws it against the window, it shatters and Bo’s knees buckle.

“God, why am I attached to you? I can’t do shit without you here. Without you I’m fucking nothing I’m a goddamn mess. It’s been almost a week. I finally do some shit on my own and I can’t. I can’t go back to the way things were. I need you to get fucking better or I’m gonna lose it.” Bo mumbles. A tear falls down his face, his breath shakes, angrily he rubs his eyes causing stars to cross them. He slams his fist into the ground and lays there.

Your eyes flutter open, you’re groggy but are starting to feel better. “Bo?” You run your eyes to get the boogers out. He’s not there. You shrug and get yourself up from bed. You pee and walk downstairs to get some food. You grab crackers and soup and start to eat quickly.

It’s hours before Bo is back home. You took another shower and laid back down. Decided to turn on the radio to soft music and play it.

Bo walks upstairs and comes across you laying down, eyes open, wide open. Not even tired. He jumps into bed and squeezes you. You hack trying to cover your face.

“You’re awake! Holy shit!” Bo kisses you all over and you furrow your brows and laugh.

“Yeah, I told you what happens when I get sick silly. Need to rest for awhile.”

Bo looks at you and frowns.

“I-I know but you’ve been sick for a week and it worried me. A lot. You didn’t wake up for two days and it scared the hell outta me… I didn’t think you’d ever wake up.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “Oh hun, I’ll always end up waking back up. For you okay?”

“Okay…”

You cuddle into Bo and hum.

“God I’m so happy I can finally sweat this shit out. I hate being so sick.”

“I hate you being sick too.”

#bo sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x reader

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catierambles · 2 years

Text

Control Ch.7

Pairing: Au!Walter Marshall x Jessica Talbot (OFC)

WC 1777

Warnings: Police procedural violence against women (More CSI, less Saw)

@liecastillo @summersong69

Salt flavored the air as he got out of his truck, clipping his badge and gun that he had stowed in the glove compartment the previous night to his belt. Jackson was already there along with several cop cars and the coroner's van. He could hear sea birds in the distance as he walked towards the abandoned warehouse by the docks, the air chilly despite the sun being warm.

“Good morning,” Jackson said and he grunted in response. “Didn’t you wear that yesterday?”

“You’re in Homicide, Riley, not Fashion.” Walter said, scowling at him as they ducked under the police tape cordoning off the area.

“Someone’s grumpy.” Jackson said, “Did I interrupt something?”

“Yes.” He said simply.

“So does Jess have a friend or a sister…”

“Focus, Riley.” Walter said.

“Right, yeah, sorry.” Jackson said, “Jane Doe, no ID found on or near the body. A couple of kids stumbled across her when they were looking for something to vandalize.” They walked out onto the main floor of the warehouse and Walter faltered in his steps as he saw the woman bound to the chair in the middle of the room. Her head was down, but if he didn’t already know Jessica was safe and well in her apartment, he would have thought he was looking at her, they shared the same shade of chestnut brown hair. “What do we have?”

“She’s been here one, maybe two days, based on the level of decomp and insect activity.” The coroner said, “Duct tape was used to bind her wrists and ankles, I’ll get it to the lab, see if we can pull a print from the adhesive.”

“Cause of death?” Walter asked as he looked down at her, seeing the many cuts marring her skin shown by the blue dress she was wearing.

“Based on the nasty gash on her throat? Severed jugular.” The coroner said, “But I’ll know more once I get her back.”

“No blood on the body.” Jackson noted and Walter took in a deep breath through his nose, but he didn’t smell any blood, just the rotted wood and rusted metal of the warehouse.

“No blood anywhere near it, either.” The coroner pointed out, “She probably wasn’t killed here, lividity is all wrong.”

“If this is a dump site,” Walter started, “Why pose the body like this? Why not just leave her?”

“Not my job.” Coroner said.

“What about the other injuries?” Jackson asked.

“They’re not deep, none of them appear to be fatal aside from the wound on her neck.” The coroner said, “More to cause pain than anything else, would be my guess. Some of them look to be a couple of days old, there are early signs of healing.”

“Bastard wanted her to suffer.” Walter said and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Tortured, throat cut, dumped in a remote location bound to a chair.” Jackson listed off, “Goddamnit.” His face fell.

“Riley?” Walter asked, looking at him curiously. “You recognize this?”

“You really need to read the inter-jurisdictional memos.” Jackson said, “In the jurisdiction over, six women were found in the same way over the course of two months. All with the same MO and cause of death.”

“You telling me we have a serial killer?” Walter asked and he nodded.

“He must have hopped jurisdictions, maybe he thought they were getting close to finding him and he got scared.”

“Or he wanted to move to a new hunting ground.” Walter said and sighed, “We’ll reach out and see what they can tell us about this guy. Thanks, Doc.”

“You’ll have my report later today.” The coroner said and they walked off, heading back outside.

“Motherfucker.” Jackson said, rubbing his eyes and Walter nodded.

“Yeah.” He said, so much for getting back to Jessica quickly. “I’ll see you back at the station.”

“Yeah, man, see you there.” Jackson said and he walked back to his truck, getting in and driving away.

A few hours later he was at his desk, looking over the coroner's report that came in, picking his head up when Jackson leaned against the desk.

“That the coroner’s report?” He asked and Walter nodded. “How do you always get it before I do?”

“By giving the coroner a bottle of scotch every year for Christmas.” He said, “Prints come back?”

“Mary Allen,” Jackson said with a nod, “A couple of petty priors when she was a teenager. Shoplifting.”

“According to the report, the cause of death was a cut jugular, it was clean with a very sharp blade. Far as he could tell, the same knife made the other wounds.” Walter said, “What’d the other station say?”

“They’re sending over copies of the files from the other murders, should be here tomorrow.” Jackson said, “Report say anything else?”

“No sexual assault.” Walter said, “Pre or post-mortem.”

“Small blessings.” Jackson said, “Man, this job sucks sometimes.”

“Someone’s gotta do it.” Walter said with a shrug. “What CSI say?”

“Tire tracks from an SUV at the back entrance of the warehouse, they’re still looking into a make and model.”

“And the tape?”

“Still being processed.”

“Toxicology?”

“Still being worked.”

“You got a picture of the victim?” He asked and Jackson nodded, going over to his desk and taking a photo from a folder, handing it over to him. Walter took it from him, looking at it. It was a mugshot, probably from when she was a teenager. “Pretty girl.” He said, looking at the chestnut hair and pale blue eyes. Setting the photo down he rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair before getting up from his desk. “I’m heading home. We can’t do much until the other reports are in and we get the files from the other murders.”

“Yeah, see you in the morning.” Jackson said.

“See you in the morning.” He echoed and walked from the station.

Jessica got up from her couch at the knock on her door. Opening it and smiling when she saw him there. Her smile fell, though, as she saw the expression he wore.

“Bad, huh?” She asked and he nodded, walking into her apartment as she stepped aside, closing the door behind him. “Don’t tell me it was a kid.”

“It wasn’t a kid.” He reassured her and she gave a relieved sigh.

“Oh thank god. I mean, it doesn’t make it any less horrible, but I hear kids are the worst.” He just nodded again, standing there in her living room. She went up to him, reaching up to hold his face in her hands. “You’ll find the guy who did this. I believe in you. Believe in the me that believes in you.” He gave a snort despite himself, amazed that she could make him feel better no matter what was going on.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He asked, wrapping his hands around her waist as her hands went to his shoulders.

“You’re not too bad yourself, buddy.” She said, “I would say I could order us some Chinese food and we can drink beer and watch movies, but you can’t eat Chinese food or drink beer.”

“Don’t let me stop you.” He said and sighed, “I actually should probably just go, I don’t want to bring you down.”

“Nope, you’re not going anywhere.” Jessica said, “You came here for a reason and that reason is cuddles. So kick off your boots and sit your ass down.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said with a small smile, moving away from her and going to the couch, sitting down and taking off his boots as he listened to her order food. Picking up the remote, he turned on the TV and switched over to Netflix, scrolling through the categories. Woman watched a lot of true crime, he noticed as he went through her recommendations. Also movies about his kind, but he was guessing that fascination was more recent. Finding the one about such an individual talking to a newspaper reporter based on a book of the same name, he turned it on.

“I thought you said that all that stuff was bullshit.” Jessica said as she came over, seeing what he had selected.

“The author got very close.” Walter admitted, “And the actors they got to play them were superb, especially the main character, he captured the level of whiny he had in the book.”

“How close?” She asked as she sat down next to him.

“Pretty damn close.” He said, “Except for the whole “not being able to have sex” thing.”

“What about the homoerotic subtext?” She asked and he snorted.

“Couldn’t tell you. Aside from the one that Turned me, I’ve never met another one of my kind.”

“Ever?” She asked and he shook his head. “Damn. Sounds kinda lonely.”

“I just figure we’re rare enough that it’s just never happened.”

“Makes sense, if there were too many of you guys, might lead to a food supply problem. Not to mention a lot of awkward conversations.”

“There would have to be a lot for that to be an issue, given how many there are of you guys.”

“Have a point.” She conceded and there was a pause. “You’ve never told me how you were Turned. You told me the where and the when, but not the who and the how.”

“It was a long time ago.” Walter said, looking down at his hands.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Jessica said, leaning over to lay her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” He said, laying his head against hers briefly. There was a knock at her door and he got up and went over, opening it and taking the bag of food from the delivery guy and thanking him before closing it again. “That was quick.”

“They always are.” She said and he took it into the kitchen, making her a bowl of chicken and broccoli and rice.

“I really wish sometimes that I could still eat human food.” He said as he brought it over to her, “This smells really good.”

“You can’t even have, like, an egg roll?” She asked and thanked him as he handed it to her with a fork.

“Not unless you want me hunched over your toilet for the next two hours.” He said as he sat down again.

“Romantic.” She said, stabbing a piece of chicken.

“I try my best. We should probably start the movie over.”

“Yeah, we’ve been talking through most of it.” She said around a piece of broccoli and he started it over from the beginning again, leaning back on the couch with his arm behind her shoulders.

#henry cavill #walter marshall #summersong69 #control fic #my writing

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i-have-no-void-and-i-must-scream · 7 months

Text

Im like Constantly teetering on the edge of having a fucking eating disorder because I hate that I weigh this much, and the only thing really stopping me is that I forget I want to stop eating and I eat to avoid pain and then fucking kick myself for it later.

I think I just need a good stretch of bulimia, can't stop myself from eating, but I always realize my mistake, I should just fucking correct it. Throw it back up again. Because let's be honest, yeah, sure, EDs are seen as "not worth it" and give you a bunch of crap, but it Does also give you the one thing that all the trendy diets and pills and exercise can never give you: results. For all its many faults, it WILL make you skinnier. And I'm tired of trying to ignore that.

Like I know all the shit about it. It's not worth it, the weight won't stay off, constant mood swings and fatigue and headaches and whatnot. But what's the worst thing that could lead to, huh? Suicidal thoughts? I already want to kill myself because I can't fucking stand to look at this body. To BE in this body

And I'm doing the "Correct" things to do to lose weight. Hitting the gym, 4 mile walks pretty much daily, healthier foods, fewer snacks, more protein, less food overall, more water. AND ITS NOT FAST ENOUGH. I've been at it for months, and a couple people have Said that I look a little better, sure, But I don't Fucking FEEL IT. It FEELS like I'm trapped in the SAME fucking state I've always been in.

And I HATE this body, I CANNOT just learn to live with it! I run for 30 seconds and get winded for the next hour. I don't look good in Anything! I generate so much heat that I have trouble falling asleep. I go to tie my shoes and I can't see because my fat leg is in the way. I try to twist around and struggle because there's too much ME in my way.

This fucking sucks i cant fucking take this anymore. I want to hack off a leg or Slash my face or Chop off an Arm or Gut out my belly or Cut my hair or Flay My Skin or SOMETHING!!!!! FUCKING ANYTHING TO LET ME KNOW MY BODY CAN CHANGE GODDAMNIT!!!!!

Because it all comes down to this: I Can Not stand to live in this body anymore. So one of two things must happen. Either this body will change into a livable state... or I will stop living. And I've been reeeeeeally trying to make option one work buuuuut...

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agueroh · 6 years

Text

I was sitting on a bench waiting for my driver to come after a class, enjoying the warmth of the sun, listening to the saddest shit ever by Muse then, a sweet man passed near me (he works there maybe) and asked if he could help me move my bench somewhere else cause he thought the heat bothered me and I couldn’t even speak cause fucking hell he was so damn attractive and I just stared like “what the fuck is happening”

he smiled warmly, i swear his smile was warmer than the sun

nodded and said “seems like you’re enjoying the sun”

HELL YEAH IT’S RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME YOU SEXY PILE OF STUPIDITY

he checked on me plenty times and i stayed there until i felt like i was melting to the core just to not make from myself a joke

THE PROBLEM IS HE WAS AT LEAST 35 YEARS OLD WHY AM I LIKE THIS ALWAYS HAVING A CRUSH ON MEN WHO ARE NOT MY AGE!

WHY AM I EVEN ANGRY

at least i get a chance to see him 3 times a week so,

#when i was late for the class couple hours later he opened the door for me and i had a crush on him since then #and now that happened #I WANNA MARRY HIM GODDAMNIT

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forthemasses1789 · 2 years

Note

Hi! Are your requests still open? I absolutely love your style and wanted to request something for John Bender if I may <3 scenario or headcanons for his s/o's parents actually wanting to help him too with his situation at home, becouse they genuinely like him? Maybe letting him know that he can move in/stay for some time whenever he needs to? You think he would be mad about it at first or fluff all the way? Thank you dear and I hope you have a great day/night <3 '🪶

Hi Anon! My requests are always open unless I'm like 'hey my requests are closed' then just assume I'm accepting requests! Thank you so much for this request, especially as this is my first time doing headcanons! I really hope you enjoy it!

-Ok soooo

-First off, a little bit of background, as surprising as it is, Bender was actually like crazy nervous to meet your parents.

-It took a lot of pestering and ‘seriously John why can't you tell me? I promise I won't laugh!’ to eventually get him to admit why he was so nervous

-turns out the reason why he was so nervous was that it was you and your parents and he wanted to make a good impression and try and show them that he could look after you and keep you safe

-after he had finally admitted it he and you had a talk which mostly consisted of you saying that as long as he was himself (maybe not as horny lewd) that they would love him just as much as you do

-2 days later and it was time, admittedly, you were just as nervous as John but you knew that however this night went, you and John would walk out of it together

-Because of how nervous he was you decided to meet up with him before the actual event, which definitely worked out in your favor

-You guys went over how you were feeling, he would most likely try to be like 'im only like a little bit nervous' but that facade dropped real quick

-You tried to tell him how nice your parents are, and how they were really looking forward to meeting him but all he was focusing on was how in the hell he could make himself a 'respectable boyfriend' in less than an hour

-*that one part in 'we don't talk about Bruno'* Time for dinner!!

-you couldn't cut the tension in that room with just a knife.

-You would need a whole chainsaw, and probably then some.

-Conversation started out awkward, but eventually, John got more comfortable, which made you more comfortable too which meant conversation began to flow a lot easier

-Eventually, the conversation drifts to what John's parents do, and what his life is like at home

-Annnnddd exactly like what you expected, John's small smile dropped, and the wall of 'im cool and a badass grrrr' that had dropped only 20 minutes before came flying back

-You immediately interlinked your hands, trying to give him any form of comfort on the subject as you could

-He looked up, his eyes slightly teary with this look in his big brown eyes that just made him look so vulnerable

-You could kinda just tell that he was seeking your comfort and advice on whether or not to tell them the truth or be all closed up and just kinda deflect/avoid the topic

-With some slight hand squeezes, reassuring glances, and unspoken words, he surprisingly opened up

-He was tough at first, talking about his stepdad and the things he did to him at his in a kinda 'that's the way it is' but as he spoke more he began to dissolve into tears, unable to control his pain and anger

-Immediately he was surrounded by your parents and you comforting him

-Your parents were incredibly understanding and comforting, and they never judged him once, not even when he told them to "Fuck off goddamnit! I'm not a child!" with a hand in his hair while pushing them away with one hand

-He ended up desperately holding onto you, crying into your chest while you shushed him, smoothing out his hair, a couple of tears escaping of your own

-you were sure you heard him muttering, something along the lines of "why can't he be a good person? what did I do to deserve him?"

-it broke your heart to see him so broken, I mean, he's normally a lot softer with you anyway, but you've never seen him so broken and vulnerable

-Your parents understood immediately, and let you and John have some alone time in your room to cuddle and sleep and to just... try and process the onslaught of emotions that had been released

-You both ended up falling asleep in your bed, cuddled up and dead to the world

-In the morning, he came down with you, and attempted to apologize for his outburst and the way he spoke to them

-YOUR PARENTS WERE HAVING NONE OF IT

-literally, as soon as the words "I'm sorry" left John's lips they were jumping up and surrounding him, voices overlapping between the supportive 'honey you don't need to apologize' and the slightly threatening but insanely protective 'DONT YOU DARE APOLOGISE YOU SWEET THING'

-After that day John was kind of adopted into the family

-He was over basically every day

-You could really tell that he was changing like his whole demeanor just seemed... more carefree, more positive, like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders

-Somewhere along the way, he began calling your parents their respective names

-First, he started with Mx (Y/L/N)

-not really tho cause he had an emotional breakdown on the first night

-Now he calls them something along the lines of Ma/Pa/or just their first names

-NOWWWW here’s when he starts to kind be like ‘ehhhh’

-Sooo after all of the things previously mentioned had occurred, it made sense that your parents decided to mention to him over dinner one night that if he wanted to move in, he was more than welcome too, and would be welcomed with open arms

-His initial reaction was kinda like in between‘You don’t want me here, im a trouble maker’ and ‘really?? I’ll grab my shit rn’

-Then he kinda heard a voice in his head (one strikingly similar to that of his step dads) that told him that they were only doing it out of sympathy, his connection with you, and that they were treating him like a child

-And then suddenly boom! Anger

-He shut himself off for a few days, not really talking to you or your family until you eventually sought him out and made him talk to you

-it took a lot of persuasion and promises (both spicy and fluffy) to get him to tell you what was going on, but he eventually did

-hearing him say out loud what was making him feel so awful literally made you cry

-when he said it, you pulled him into a hug and then kissed him real hard before grabbing his cheeks, staring him in the eyes and saying the following:

-“Don’t you ever say that about yourself. Ever. I love you more than anything and I’m pretty sure that my parents have already planned out how to add you to the Christmas cards.”

-You both just kinda sat there for a bit after that, cuddling and just existing together

-he ended up moving in, and now he unofficially shares a room with you

-and yes, he is forced into the matching sweaters for the cringy 80s family photo every. single. Christmas.

-he complains every time, not so secretly, he loves it

Taglist-@friendlyneighbourhoodfanficer

If you want to be added to my tag list, here is the link!

#john bender x reader #the breakfast club #breakfast club x reader #the breakfast club x reader #john bender #request #requests are open

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fictionalwh0ree · 3 years

Note

hello! can i request a rafexreader (if you can, pls make it vv angsty and long pls) anyway, the reader is in his friend group with top and kelce and she is really in love with him, and he knows that so he uses that to his advantage. she always does stuff for him and he always takes her for granted and treats her pretty badly / rudely. but one day she’s finally had enough and show him how much he drained her. she starts talking with jj (you know with his funny personality and more) and meanwhile rafe regrets everything. then the rest is up to you. thanks! take your time

drained-rafe cameron

summary: you’ve always had a crush on your friend, rafe cameron, and he used it to his advantage. one day, you’ve had enough.

word count: 2k

warnings: swearing, no happy ending sort of

you had chosen to spend your day like any other, at the club with your friends. you made your way to the restaurant from the courts. the sun beat down on you and sweat was dripping off you from the heat and the tennis match you had just won.

as you walked, you could feel eyes on you. you found this happened very often, though you only had eyes for one person, one of your best friends, rafe cameron. you'd had a crush on him since the third grade, aka when you first met. now, 11 years later, and you were practically in love with him.

you approached the table where kelce, rafe and topper were sitting.

"hey, losers," you greeted.

"did you win?" topper asked as you took your seat.

"do you know me to lose?" you asked cockily.

"whatever," topper rolled his eyes.

"god, my legs are killing me," you said.

"y/n do you mind going up to the bar and ordering the food for us?" rafe muttered, looking down at his phone.

"uh, sure. the usual?" you asked.

"i can go if you want, y/n," kelce offered.

"no, no, it's alright. i've already been running around for a couple hours, what's five more minutes?"

you went up to the counter and ordered what you all usually had. after thanking the waitress, you sat back down. soon your food had arrived. right off the bat, you could tell rafe was eyeing the waitress.

"thanks, grace," he winked, pausing to read the girls name tag.

you rolled your eyes, topper and kelce already looking at you. when she finally walked away, you all began to dig in. you were all in the middle of the conversation, until rafe spit his drink back into his cup.

"what is this?" he asked angrily.

"they, uh, didn't have your usual brand, so i told her to bring the next best one," you said nervously, starting to shrink under rafe's harsh gaze.

"well it tastes like shit. why didn't you tell them to bring one from the back? are you trying to poison me or something?" he said through gritted teeth.

"no. i- no. they didn't have any in the back," you mumbled, looking down to your hands.

"god! there's a reason i don't get the next best. stupid bitch," he seethed, muttering the end.

you kept quiet, trying to hold back any reaction.

"look at me when i'm talking to you!" he yelled.

you looked up nervously, meeting his eyes and he looked back at you, fumes coming out of his ears.

"goddamnit," he fumed, slamming his hands on the table before walking away.

"y/n-" topper began.

"it's fine, top," you said, trying to sound confident, "i'll go. you can tell rafe he can come back."

you walked to your car and got in. after containing yourself, you drove back home. nobody was home so you spent your afternoon relaxing. at around 5:30, topper texted you.

topper:

there’s a party tonight

wanna come?

you:

sure

what time and where?

topper:

i’ll send u the address

you rushed to get ready and eat something before leaving. you arrived at the party a little while after it had begun, but the smell of beer was already strong. you had already notified your friends that you were on your way. you saw all of them, besides rafe, sitting on a couch when you walked in.

“hi guys,” you greeted.

“hey,” they said.

“i’m gonna go get a drink, does anyone want anything?” you asked.

they all declined and you made your way to the kitchen, pouring yourself a drink from the keg.

“y/n,” you heard someone call.

you turned around and were faced with the tall blonde you were in love with.

“listen, i’m sorry abou-“ rafe began.

“it’s okay. don’t worry about it, rafe,” you said

“are you sure?” he asked

“yes,” you confirmed

“okay, cool. i’ll see you back there then,” he said gesturing at the party.

you nodded and followed him back out. when you were back with the group, you noticed a face you hadn’t seen before. it was the waitress from earlier, grace.

rafe must’ve invited her, you thought.

you pushed him to the back of your head and enjoyed the party, though. you played beer pong, talked to sarah, had a couple drinks and, over all, had a good time. it was getting late and many people had already left, including sarah, topper, and kelce.

“hey y/n,” rafe said.

“hi,” you said politely.

“do you mind giving me and grace a ride home? i don’t think i can drive,” rafe asked.

“yeah, sure,” you smiled.

rafe could always count on you to do him favours. he was usually extra nice to you for a couple days after. you pulled your car around the front and honked when you saw rafe making out with the girl against a wall. they both hopped in the back and continued.

if it keeps them from throwing up in my car, you thought.

about halfway through the ride, you started to get annoyed with the kissing sounds and small whines, whimpers and moans coming from the backseat. when you had tried to turn up the radio, grace asked for you to turn it down, which you did. you had been gripping the wheel so hard, your knuckles started to turn white.

“do you guys mind?” you asked harshly.

“what?” grace asked with her stupid bimbo voice.

“the making out. stop,” you explained.

“i told you she was annoying,” rafe whispered in grace’s ear, just loud enough for you to hear.

“i’m annoying?” you rolled your eyes, “i’m the one who has to listen to you two moaning like some fucking porn stars. i tried to ignore it, i did, but i’ve had enough.”

“god, you’re such a bitch sometimes,” rafe said.

“you’re not any better,” you muttered, pulling into rafe’s driveway.

“get out,” you said firmly after stopping the car.

"i hate you so much. i hope i never have to see you again," he said, once he was out of the car.

"you won't. maybe you can get the next bimbo you pick up to do everything for you," you yelled.

you knew that part of this came from rafe's lack of sobriety, but you couldn't help but lash out. at first you didn't see a problem with all the stuff you did for him, but soon you started noticing how he would take advantage of you. you ignored it, hoping that one day it would all pay off and he would confess his love for you and you'd live happily ever after, but as you got older, that possibility seemed less and less likely. now helping rafe and getting nothing in return was getting draining. it was a one-sided relationship. you couldn't be part of that anymore.

"aren't you gonna give me a ride home?" grace yelled as you began to drive off. you stuck your hand out of the driver side window and flipped her off.

when you got home, you cried. that's a bit of an understatement, actually. bawled. you bawled until you were dehydrated and exhausted. this happened over and over again for the next few days. you had also avoided any call or message from topper, rafe, and kelce. topper and kelce had never done anything wrong, but rafe was there first and you weren't gonna make them pick. they even tried to visit, but you never answered the door. you'd avoid them at the country club and at parties. weeks went by and you hadn't seen them. you had made new friends.

the bonfire had snuck up on you and only remembered when one of your friends had mentioned it to you. you got dressed up in a cute summer outfit and did your hair and make-up. when you arrived, you went straight for a drink. you were standing by the fire alone, waiting for your friends to arrive when someone started talking to you.

"hey," he greeted. if you weren't mistaken, he was a pogue. you'd heard about how he caused trouble around town.

"y/n, right?" he asked.

"yeah," you smiled. he was pretty cute.

"jj," he introduced, "i've seen you at the country club a couple times."

"you don't seem the type to hang around there," you commented

"i'm not, but i've gotta make sure the kooks aren't having too much fun, ya know," he joked.

"yeah," you giggled, "hold on, i've seen you at the midsummers before, right?"

"yep, i was helping pope and his dad"

"oh, you're friends with pope! i've talked to him a couple times. he's really nice."

"oh, i know. my man didn't stop talking about your conversation for a while."

"that's cute," you laughed.

"don't worry, he's over you, now. can't say the same for the rest of the island, though," he said.

"what're you talking about?" you asked curiously.

"you and sarah cameron are like these magical kook princesses that everyone island wants to be with," he explained.

"really?" you laughed.

"mhm, not that you would’ve noticed, you’re hard-core in love with kook king rafe.”

“that’s over. i didn’t realize it was that obvious.”

“yes, well staring at someone with heart eyes most of the day is usually a dead giveaway,” he shrugged.

“you’re bold,” you laughed.

“thank you, i have to get my chance to talk to you before rafe realizes what he’s missing out on,” he winked.

“you think he’s missing out?” you asked nervously.

“yeah! have you met you? you’re nice, fun, you’re talking to a pogue without showing some kind of disgust, and you’re hot,” he complimented, causing you to blush and look at the ground.

“thanks,” you said.

“do you need a refill?” he offered.

“sure,” you said, handing him your cup.

he walked away and not long after, rafe, topper and kelce came your way.

“y/n,” rafe yelled.

“what?” you answered harshly.

“why the hell are you talking to a pogue?” he asked.

“why is that any of your business? i thought you never wanted to see me again?”

“i was high, you know that.”

“you’re always high, rafe.”

“is that why you stopped hanging out with us?” kelce asked.

“it was clear rafe didn’t want me around anymore. i didn’t wanna make you guys choose between us, so i made the decision myself. and maybe i was tired of being used by him,” you confessed.

“what the hell are you talking about?” rafe questioned rudely.

“you know exactly what i’m talking about,” you answered, crossing your arms over your chest.

“can we talk in private please?” he said, already pulling you to somewhere isolated. when you two were alone, he spoke again.

“what’s your problem?”

he was standing inches away from you, yet he was towering over you intimidatingly. you took a step back.

“my problem? god, rafe! are you that oblivious? all these years i’ve been behind you picking up after you, cleaning up your messes, doing shit for you. do you know what i got in return? a thank you, if i was lucky. then you’d go and blame me for everything. i was- i am sick and tired of it. i’m tired of caring for you when you clearly don’t give a shit about me. i deserve better, i’ve learnt that. i could have someone who treats me right-”

“then why don’t you?” he yelled.

“because i loved you. i chose you over myself, over my mental health. you knew i loved you, and you used it to your advantage, to get what you wanted. i didn’t get anything in return. you didn’t care about me and now i’m done caring about you. done. i’m done with you,” you yelled back. it felt nice getting all that off your chest.

“you don’t love me anymore?” he asked, sounding a bit hurt.

“no,” you lied, turning around to walk back to the bonfire. a part of you would always love him, but it hurt you too much to do that, so you had to give him up.

“come on, y/n. i’m sorry. we could make this work. me and you could work,” he begged.

“it’s too late, rafe,” you called, not even turning around.

you walked back to jj, a small smile on your face from the thought of him.

“are you okay?” he asked.

“yeah, i am actually.”

#rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x reader #jj maybank #obx imagine #obx angst

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deannaroxannewrites · 3 years

Text

Tropetember Day 8 - 5+1 / 3+1

You're in my sickbay again...

Pairing: Leonard McCoy x GN!Reader

Fandom: Star Trek (I was writing it as AOS but pretty sure it works for TOS as well if that's your jam)

Rating: Teen and up

TW: Mentions of torture, mention of injuries

AN: Day 8 of @tropetember. Not a massively in depth fic, more like snapshots of situations that occur through the relationship.

3 times Dr McCoy didn't want to see you in his medbay and 1 time he did

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 1.3k

While you hadn’t been expecting to be beamed directly into the quarantine suite in the Medbay of the USS Enterprise, after three months working with Captain James T for Trouble Kirk, it wasn’t totally surprising either.

Kirk had been invited to a celebration feast in a system you were exploring, but had only been allowed to bring one guest. As Chief Security Officer or CSO, you had been volunteered for the position.

You had done everything you could to keep the Captain away from anything questionable. Sadly, conversations with him usually went something along the lines of:

“Jim, no”

“Jim, yes”.

It was something you regularly discussed in your sessions with the ship's newly appointed counsellor.

Since quarantine procedures were only instigated when the transporter detected an anomaly in the crew members being transported, and assuming it was due to Jim, you just sigh to yourself and shake your head.

“I told you to watch him closely!”

The southern drawl didn’t soften the accusation, even deadened as it was by the plexiglass divider that separated Quarantine from the rest of the medbay.

“I did! I don’t understa…”

You trail off as you have a sudden realisation and groan.

“I found him with his tongue down the Princess’s throat.”

Dr McCoy gives a long suffering sigh.

“I’ll have to run tests on both of you. The transporter team couldn’t definitively tell if you both have it.” He pauses and looks you up and down. “I expected better of you Lieutenant Commander”

“Yeah, cos you’re so much better at this than I am. It was Orion herpes last time, wasn’t it?”

The CMO just smirks and tells you to stop pointing fingers before sauntering off towards the storage cupboard. You respond by flipping him off. And you maybe watch his ass a little.

Turning to the Captain, who has been uncharacteristically silent until this point, you channel your inner McCoy.

“Goddamnit Jim!”

Jim decides that you and Bones are spending too much time together.

When Scotty had called to warn Dr McCoy of an incoming victim of an explosion in engineering, he had not expected it to be you.

“You’re in my sickbay again sweetheart.”

He uses a sing-song tone that he doesn’t employ with the rest of the crew. Nurse Chapel, who is at the other side of the bed, takes note to check in with the Captain as to the state of the betting pool. She believes she may have lost.

You nod in response to the doctor’s enquiry. You’re in far too much pain to think of anything more complex than that in response.

“What were you even doing in Engineering?” he grumbles to himself, moving around in the space to grab hypos, bandages, burn salve and a dermal regenerator. “You’re almost as bad as Jim and Spock.”

You try to focus on him but you’re struggling to stay conscious. It’s not aided by the painkillers he dumps into your system.

McCoy gently moves you to be laying on the bed. He’s concerned at the extent of the damage done and the nerve trauma to your arm. To ease your pain, he hits you with a sedative and you’re out like a light.

-------

You groan as you come back to consciousness, the light of the medbay hurting your eyes.

“Welcome back darlin’” you hear.

Smiling despite yourself, you squint in Leonard’s direction.

“I was helping with the repairs on the lower decks. I assumed it was safer than an away mission. Apparently I was wrong.”

Surprised laughter bubbles from the grumpy doctor as he agrees.

“Well, get yourself rested up. I’m serious this time. I don’t want to see you back in my medbay.”

“Sure” you agree, both of you knowing it won’t last for long. Occupational hazard. “Dinner and a movie on Saturday if the mean Doctor lets me go?”

It made a change for a mission to go wrong due to something Spock did but in a culture that valued feelings as much more important than logic, it was not that surprising.

Most of the crew had made a successful escape but yourself and Dr McCoy had been taken hostage during the initial skirmish. You’d been thrown in a cell together and that had been that.

Or at least, so you’d thought.

You’d been dragged from the cell, questioned and beaten in front of McCoy in an attempt to find out details of the Enterprise and it’s crew. You hadn’t broken, but by the time you’d been rescued, you definitely had at least a couple of broken ribs, a black eye and various assorted cuts and bruises.

Len was quiet as he helped to repair your injuries. Where you were black and blue, his torture had been psychological. He couldn’t get your screams out of your head.

Noticing his distracted state you grasps his jaw gently, disguising the wince it bring when it pulls a little, and raise his eyes to yours.

“This isn’t your fault.”

His eyes dart away but you stay firm.

“I am trained for this, Len. I’d do it again to protect you. But you’re going to need to let the guilt go.”

He sighs heavily.

“I’ll try.” He pauses to run the regen unit over your upper arm. “You’ll need to do me a favour though.”

“Anything.”

“Go on a date with me?”

Mr Spock had been on his way to apologise for the consequences of his actions but is distracted by the fact that he has won the betting pool. He better inform the Captain and come back later.

You’re still not sure how it happened. As CSO, your main responsibility was the Captain and when things went wrong, his safety was paramount. You couldn’t check on everyone else. You just had to trust that your team was doing their job.

You hadn’t even realised Len had been hit until you landed on the transporter pad.

There had been so much blood.

Now, you were pacing outside the OR. It had been hours since the beam out when finally M’Benga pops his head out.

“He’ll be ok. He won’t be working for a few weeks but he’ll be ok.”

Your knees give out from under you and you land heavily on the chair behind you. Tears of relief escape without your permission and you drop your head into your hands.

M’Benga gives your shoulder a squeeze, letting you know where Len is being moved to and giving you permission to stay with him, before heading off to finish cleaning himself up.

You take a deep breath and approach Len’s bed. His larger than life presence is softened in sleep and you can’t help but notice how fragile he looks.

Taking his hand, you place a kiss on his knuckles and then rest your head against the mattress. After nearly 36hrs awake, you’re out like a light

-----

You wake to the feeling of fingers running through your hair which you automatically nuzzle into. It’s nice. Comforting.

It takes longer than you’d ever admit to orient yourself, but when you do, you raise yourself and meet Len’s eyes. He has a soft smile on his face that you can’t help but mirror.

“Sorry for dropping in, I know you didn’t want to see me in your medbay.” It’s a cheeky comment but it widens his smile into a grin. You pat yourself on the back for lightening the atmosphere.

“I’ll let you off this time.” His voice is a bit scratchy from lack of use but it sounds like the finest music to your ears. How could you have been so close to never hearing it again? He continues, “care to join me for dinner? I’m afraid there’s only jello.”

You laugh at the silly grump of a man in the hospital bed. Your best friend. Your favourite person. The love of your life.

“I’d love to.”

#tropetember #fanfiction #star terk #star trek aos #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy x you #leonard mccoy x y/n #dr mccoy x reader #captain james t. kirk #3 + 1 #torture mention #injuries

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

Text

Title: What’s in a Name?

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from last chapter. You and the others are finally homeward bound, flying back to the U.S. from the events in Egypt and Greece. You get to hear a little more about Peter’s eastern European roots while passing time on the plane together.

Warnings: None, just fluff and Peter being Peter.

Notes: I know where some things I’m referencing don’t match the comics. Blend of comic canon and the movie version going on here.

Chapters: Previous Chapter Here

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

The morning sun was still low and red on the horizon as you’d stepped back out into the open air of the flight deck. But seagulls were already calling from somewhere up above as men milled around, checking and readying a set of helicopters that you knew would soon be taking you ashore.

You wouldn’t miss this boat itself of course, none of you belonged here after all. But you’d be lying to say it’d been easy to let go of Peter when morning had come. You’d woken up far more tangled than you remembered going to sleep as, chest to chest, his good leg wrapped over you and one of his hands somehow far up the back of your shirt.

The longest part of getting ready had been the procrastination of leaving that bed. After that, it only seemed like minutes before you were all awkwardly standing up here now, waiting on next instructions. It wasn’t as if you’d had anything you could pack after all. Besides that somewhat silly polaroid picture you’d seen Peter carefully stowaway in one pocket of his shorts, you had no possessions to speak of here. Even the shoes they’d given you were some poorly fit military boot. The tops of them scraped against your ankles as you walked and you’d be glad to be rid of them whenever possible.

The Professor and Moira approached after another moment, Moira hurrying a little more as one of the helicopters began to fire up, followed by the other soon after. She had to speak louder over the rising noise of the blades rotating faster and faster.

“Keep these on you!” She called, going to each of you in turn, handing over a U.S. passport with a driver’s license closed separately inside. She only opened them briefly to check that she was matching each to the correct person. “The flight we’ll be taking is just a commercial plane. The government has contracted them and dictated the pickup and landing points, but it’s civilian pilots and flight crew. Normal security still applies, but only those with U.S. citizenship are allowed aboard.”

As she’d gotten to you and Peter, she’d handed both passports to you as you’d had your hand outstretched, and he’d still been holding on to his crutches. You quickly opened one just to see which was yours, so you could pocket only your own. The first one opened was his however, but even in the low light of early sunrise, your brain hitched on something unexpected.

The picture looking back at you was clearly him, albeit a little younger, and with slightly longer hair than the way he wore it currently. But that wasn’t the issue. You reread the name printed in front of you more than once, before glancing up to him as if to confirm.

It said Pietro Django Maximoff.

“Your real name isn’t Peter?” You asked, even over the helicopter noise before you could stop yourself. But the realization was already dawning on you almost before that last word left your mouth that so many people were called one name by friends and family even if their legal name may still be another. You felt a bit stupid then for your reaction, instantly wishing you could take the question back.

But thankfully he only leaned in with a smile, taking his passport and license from you even as he spoke right against your ear. “Define real.” He pocketed them, before continuing. The helicopters were at their full ready now. “But it’s a bit loud here, babe. I’ll tell you all you want to know about my sexy alter ego later, deal?”

—————————

By the time you’d gotten to the airstrip on shore, it was full morning sun now. And just as Moira had said, there was already a large U.S. commercial jet waiting there. You also found out you weren’t alone, as you’d had to join a line of people already waiting to board. They were checking credentials as people moved up one by one onto a mobile stairway that had been rolled up flush with the plane’s open door.

Looking around you, most of the would be passengers still looked like military of various branches though. Army, Navy, Air Force, they still had on their uniforms. But there were others too, likely diplomats being evacuated you thought. Men, women, even a few children as you’d seen the curious eyes peeking out from behind their parents’ legs as you all had also moved through the line.

“It had to be damn stairs,” Peter mumbled as the two of you neared closer to the plane. Without any actual terminal here, boarding straight from the tarmac was the only option.

“If Hank can help carry the Professor up them, wheelchair and all, I’m pretty sure I can handle you.” You responded, only meaning to give him a little grief.

But he just spun things right back on you of course. “Oh, you can handle me any time.”

And when your stare said you didn’t seem to find that quite as funny as he did, he only shrugged, still smiling. “Sorry, you left yourself wide open for that one.”

“I did.” You admitted. “But I still want to hear the story of that driver’s license. And why did you even have one to begin with? Seems a little unecessary.” You said, still moving up every few moments as you neared the bottom of the stairs.

Yet he just kept smirking at you, almost a seeming delight in his eyes then, realizing that you were that curious about it. “Now who’s impatient?” He taunted, just before turning back to flash said documents to one of the workers now checking them.

“Do you have anything to declare?” The woman asked him.

With the way he paused, you knew his brain was churning then to select whatever he would deem the funniest or wittiest response. But as odd of looks as you were all already getting, mostly from Hank and Kurt’s vivid blue skin as usual, it probably would be best not to test the waters any further. You did want to get home after all.

“We don’t,” You answered before he could, relieved when she seemed to want to hurry you all aboard and away from her as much as you did. She handed Peter’s passport back to him, then took your own in quick succession to glance it over as well before seeming satisfied enough as she handed it back to you.

After you were past her, it was the issue of the stairs however. Obviously they expected Peter to just figure it out, but you knew you could lend a hand. The trick was going to be in trying to keep that act of levitation a little more subtle though, still being in mixed company here.

“You should have let me have a little more fun with her,” Peter said, though glancing back with some curiosity as you moved behind him.

“I don’t want to make a scene,” you responded quietly. Really, referring to her just as much as what you were about to attempt. “Pretend you’re going up the stairs anyway. Move a little like you’re walking.”

The person in front of him on the stairs wasn’t looking back, and only more of your friends were directly behind you. With the sidewalls of the stairway also going up about waist high, the people still on the ground couldn’t see the little glow that went around his legs as you willed him to levitate just high enough that his cast didn’t drag the steps as you both continued towards the plane’s door.

“Woah, hey at least give a warning.” He responded, lifting his good leg up enough for it to also miss the now passing steps even as his crutches hit once or twice.”

“I did.” You answered, though still trying to look past him the whole time to make sure no one was looking back from the plane’s doorway. Once you’d gotten nearly to the top, you set him back down to do the last couple steps on his own and enter the plane normally.

Once inside though, the aisle really was too narrow to use his crutches properly. Maybe on a more normal flight more measures would have been taken to assist the disabled, but there sure wasn’t anyone offering anything today.

Kurt was behind you, and offered to take the crutches while Peter put one arm over your shoulders and you both half hobbled, half shimmied awkwardly down the aisle until you reached the first open seating.

Being a larger jet meant for transoceanic travel, there were seats in groups of three on both the left and right side of the plane, but a row of four in the center as well. You ended up in one of the rows of three on the side, letting Peter take the aisle seat to have more room for his leg, while you sat in the middle, and Kurt beside you at the window as he’d laid Peter’s crutches down on the floor underneath the seats.

You finally felt like maybe you could relax a little then, just glancing around a bit. There were some old magazines in the seatback in front of you, but probably not much of anything else any of you could really do now in however many hours it’d take to get stateside. You were pretty sure a passenger jet like this would be a good deal slower than the high tech military one you’d gone to Egypt in.

You were only looking up at the light and air vent controls above your seat next as a sudden movement and curse surprised you as your eyes darted back to the aisle.

“Goddamnit.” A man said.

His soft sided suitcase had just burst open, spilling most of his clothing onto the floor as he then paused to shove it back in as best he could. He struggled with the zipper a moment, but it only slid back and forth uselessly, no longer sealing the bag back. “Cheap ass government issue,” He added, finally just picking up the whole thing and holding it closed against his chest as he walked on.

And that random event would have been nothing more to you, except for the way you saw Peter move his head back then, sucking in a pained breath through his teeth as he gripped the armrest between you.

Kurt noticed too, leaning forward as he asked, “Are you alright, Peter?”

“Yeah, sure,” He grunted.

But as you glanced down to see Peter’s other hand now clutching his broken leg, you also saw a newly materialized pair of sunglasses pressed between his fingertips and the cast. As well as a military jacket now folded messily under his seat.

“That was you.” You spoke abruptly, yet low enough just for the three of you. “You took those out of that man’s suitcase!”

“Well I didn’t think the stupid zipper was going to break when I tried to close it back! He’s right, that was a cheap zipper.” Peter admitted.

“And you hurt yourself trying to get back into the chair didn’t you?” You chided a little more, not quite sure what was worse, the thievery or the recklessness.

“I hit my foot on that damn bracket, and the vibration went through the bone.” He motioned to the metal bracing that bolted the seat in front of him to the floor.

“Thou shalt not steal,” Kurt said, not judgmentally, but just as if this should be an inherent truth as he still looked to Peter with concern.

“Oh man, so I get like twelve hours of flight time to look forward to, trapped next to you two goody two shoes then? Awesome.” He joked back, though already looking back down then at the sunglasses in his hand with a little admiration. They had a mirror finish as he spun them over in his fingers. “And hey, you guys are the ones who burned up my last jacket back in Egypt, remember? I’m not going home empty handed. I’d been wanting one of those army looking deals since we got here. Buzzcut there seemed like he’d have one.”

“Mama look!”

All three of you paused your talk then to see a small boy now standing in the aisle as the movement of people had slowed once more with passengers stopping to put their luggage in the overhead bins. But his mother didn’t seem to be paying him any mind as he continued to point. She was talking to the man in front of her as that man fought with an oversized suitcase.

The boy continued staring though, likely at Kurt. But it wasn’t really a fearful gaze, more excited than anything.

“Guten tag,” Kurt said cheerfully regardless, just waving in return.

And at that the boy’s eyes really went wide. “Sprichst du Deutsch?” The boy stammered a little, yet with the biggest grin.

“Ja, ich komme aus Bayern.” Kurt replied.

And that spontaneous connection over a surprise shared language would have been truly adorable too if Peter wasn’t suddenly leaning right over you to interrupt it.

“Yo, Kurt, ask him if I can borrow some of his markers!” Peter pleaded abruptly.

“What?” You and Kurt both said almost simultaneously.

“The markers, he doesn’t need the whole box. I only need like three colors, tops.” Peter answered, motioning back to the boy. And when still neither you or Kurt seemed to understand this sudden sense of urgency, Peter actually put his hands together like making a little prayer. “You told me you didn’t want me to steal, so I’m trying not to. Come on, at least a red one?”

Kurt really was confused then, but he did lean forward, saying something else in German to the boy.

At that request the boy did look down at the coloring book rolled in one of his hands, and the small pack of markers sticking out of his pocket that evidently Peter had somehow put a target lock on.

But he really did like Kurt apparently as after only a couple moments of thought, the little boy opened the marker box to pull three out.

“Sweet!” Peter said as the child handed over red, black, and blue to him. “I’ll give them back in a bit, right?” Peter added though, smirking at him. “Thanks, little dude.”

And it was all just the oddest thing to you as the boy only happily waved bye to Kurt after, the movement of people starting again as he and his mother continued on to go sit a few rows further back.

“I don’t even know what just happened,” you said after they were gone.

“That was world class negotiating, babe. I mean Kurt literally just smooth talked some colors from a kid with a coloring book in his hand on a twelve hour flight.” Peter responded.

“You are actually going to give them back though aren’t you? You told him you would.” Kurt replied with a little concern.

Peter kind of shrugged, “I mean yeah, I guess so.”

“He’ll give them back,” You added for him. “Or I will.”

“Okay, okay, jeez. Yes, it’s not going to take me hours to do anything. Ever. I’ll have this baby gussied up in no time.” Peter responded, patting his cast gently. “You can’t leave a blank canvas to a guy like me. Especially if I have to stare at this thing for weeks.”

And he was right, you weren’t even in the air yet before he just started doodling away.

————————————

Thankfully the plane only stopped one more time, at an air base in France to pickup more U.S. government evacuees, before at last the wings were over water and you were finally pointed home.

By now Peter’s cast looked more like those advertisements or example sheets on the walls of any tattoo parlor. Yet when you made a comment as such, the sly grin you got in return made you instantly wish you’d thought that through a little better.

“Ah, so you’ve been in a tattoo parlor then?” Oh he was so interested in this topic now. You could see that wolfish look coming into his eyes. “You’ve got some ink somewhere?”

“I don’t.” You’d thought of doing it though, quite a bit actually. But it was such a commitment. You’d probably keep that tidbit to yourself for a while though, lest he try to drag you immediately to a tattoo shop on the drive to D.C.

“I’m not totally sure I believe you.” He answered, though leaning in to whisper in your ear after, “Think you’ll let me check some time?”

The fact that he was still so bold with Kurt literally right beside you, made you wonder if you really should be making sure whatever rental car you ended up with later was just some sort of bucket seat tiny two door thing. If it was a boat like sedan with a full bench back seat, you might actually be in trouble tonight.

“We’ll see,” Is all you answered back though. At least for a moment before you realized now was as good a time as any to flip the conversation back on him.

“So when do I get to hear the Pietro story?” You asked, relaxed into your seat as much as the small space would allow. “Kurt and I have nothing else to do. Let’s hear it.”

“The who?” Peter teased back, just working on giving one of the pin up girls he’d drawn a little better shading.

“Or Django. Either Pietro or Django, they both sound pretty interesting I think.” You replied playfully.

Peter glanced at you, but smiled a little. “You’re just going to be disappointed actually. I was just hyping it up, there’s really nothing to it.”

“Then go on, it’ll be a quick story then.” You still wanted to know more about him of course, and every piece was just another part of the whole picture.

“Django was my grandfather. Mom’s dad back in the old country.” Peter replied, still just finding more and more little details to add to his drawings. “I didn’t really know him. Mom never liked to take us back there much to visit. I mean it makes more sense now of course. She didn’t want my Dad to know where she was. But back then I just figured she thought that place was creepy.”

“What place?” Kurt asked innocently enough. You both were actually equally curious to whatever Peter might say about his family. Like he’d said before, Kurt wasn’t used to having friends his own age. And learning more about each other now was all part of growing those bonds.

“Wundagore Mountain,” Peter replied. “And trust me, as much as it sounds like the newest ride at some amusement park, it’s totally not. I remember being like five and going back there thinking Dracula himself was going to yank me out of that freaking soviet tin can Mom was driving us around in. Wanda still swears she heard voices up there. I mean I don’t know, we stayed with Mom’s aunt one time and she tells us this thing so creatively called Man-Beast was going to come down off the mountain for us if we didn’t behave.”

Peter glanced over to the both of you, further clarifying, “Not like Hank or anything though, it was basically just a werewolf I think. But if it’s a werewolf, call it that you know? What the hell is a Man-Beast? They had so many weird things that could take children. I feel like every story was, oh but don’t do that or Porga will get you. Oops, you talked back to your mother? Guess Tagar is coming tonight. Darn, forgot to brush your teeth? Nice knowing you, kid, Bova’s going to take you to live in the woods forever now.”

You were sort of just staring and listening, but out the corner of your eye you saw Kurt only nodding as if in complete understanding. You would hazard a guess that parts of Bavaria evidently had very similar folklore. Between the two of them, they could likely trade stories like this the whole flight.

But Peter just continued, “But yeah, Django was my gramps, just met him a couple times. And Pietro...well that’s just me. Like I said, nothing special. I was Pietro all the way until Mom started us in kindergarten.” He smirked a little. “Guess she figured the dorky little Jewish kid with the curly brown hair needed all the help he could get fitting in with all the John’s, Mark’s, and Scott’s of the world. And yeah, feel free to tell Summers I said that later.”

So she’d Americanized his name. It wasn’t unheard of with first or second generation immigrants, but still there was something a little sad about that. Yet you smiled softly, that image of the kindergarten age Peter frankly adorable in your mind. “You were a baby brunette?”

“Until the old X-gene flared at 12 or whenever that was yeah,” But he paused, a little surprised, just then realizing what look that was on your face. “Oh stop, you’re picturing it now aren’t you? I was a total dork, don’t do that. Seriously, no! I swear I will never let you find those pictures.”

But you just kept grinning. “No need. I can imagine this forever.”

“Hell, where is Jean?” Peter looked around in a little show of dramatics. “Memory wipe needed on aisle 3, Red.”

It was just too funny though, and honestly it made all the sense in the world. The physical resemblance between Peter and Erik would have been a lot more noticeable had they both still shared similar hair color and texture. Yes, you would bet Peter’s hair had even had that bit of auburn in it too back then.

“But I do have a question,” You spoke then, your tone sincere. “What do you actually want to be called?”

“Sexy?” He answered at once.

But you didn’t let him off the hook that easily, still waiting patiently for the real answer as you just watched him.

Finally he relented, but still seeming a bit non committal. “I mean I’ve heard both for so long, I answer to either. Really, I do. But if the Django comes out though, that’s Defcon 1. It means I’ve done something catastrophically wrong and Mom is about to go full on nuclear on my ass.”

You considered this for a moment, before trying it. “Pietro,” you said, looking for any difference in his expression.

He did grin at you, eyebrows going up a little.

“Peter?” You asked then.

And to that he just continued to smile. “Babe, it’s like you’re trying to pick the name of the new dog.” He raised the pitch of his voice a little, imitating a generic wife you guessed. “Honey, which one does he like better? Did his ears go up at that one?”

“Hey, I’m just trying to figure things out,” you defended. “Guess I’ll just go back to imagining all that curly brown hair now.”

“Noooo.” He whined.

———————————

The three of you had joked and talked for quite a while. But somewhere, maybe about two thirds through the flight, things did quiet back down. Eventually you decided to try and sleep some if you could. You weren’t tired yet, but you knew you would be by the time you landed.

With the difference in timezones, even though you’d left early in the morning Greek time, it would likely only be around lunch time in the U.S. after landing. While you already would have been traveling for almost twelve hours.

It was as if you’d get to repeat the day all over again. You had all that time still ahead of you, including having to convince the Professor to let you drive Peter home.

You closed your eyes for a bit, thinking of all the hypotheticals of what you could say. What you would argue if needed, and what Xavier may say in response. But as you tried to let your thoughts drift further, you realized you’d crossed your arms, little chill bumps on them as you opened your eyes to look up at the air vent above you.

Was it stuck open? You fiddled with it a moment, but felt no difference. Shifting to sit back up a little, you looked at the seatback in front of you again as well, in the pouch there with the old magazines.

“They don’t have any blankets,” Peter said quietly, easily interpreting the reasoning for your search.

You’d thought he’d already been asleep just as Kurt was though. You were surprised as Peter reached out, smoothly laying that jacket over your chest and arms. The one he’d taken earlier.

“See.” He added. “Crime does pay sometimes.”

You gave him a skeptical look still, but the jacket really did make the difference as you leaned back again in the seat, snuggling into it. “Thank you, thief.” You answered softly.

“Any time.” He smiled a little, before reaching down to click the button on the armrest between your seats. He moved the armrest up and out of the way, then running a warm hand under the jacket to find one of your own.

You grasped his hand when they met, intertwining your fingers together.

“Have a nice nap, see you in Jersey.” He said, yet closing his own eyes as well.

“See you in Jersey, Pietro.”

You felt him squeeze your hand more at that, and you couldn’t help but smile.

————————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#quicksilver #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #quicksilver xmen #quicksilver x oc #quicksilver x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x oc #peter maximoff x reader #x men fanfiction #xmen fanfiction #xmen fic

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ynscrazylife · 3 years

Note

Hey I was wondering if you can do a Bucky x reader

The reader has powers like Wanda but stronger but can you make them also gender neutral if that’s okay. Im not looking for anything specific for the plot but can u put some angst and fluff.

Sure!

Fighting A Losing Battle

Summary: S.W.O.R.D. has called Y/N in to stop Wanda Maximoff and their boyfriend Bucky insists on accompanying them.

Since gender neutral was requested, I won’t write this with any specific gender and you can imagine it to fit your gender!

Permanent Taglist: @stephanieromanoff

MCU Taglist: @procrastinatingsapphictrash @okkulta @sarahp-stan

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) HERE!

“I don't like this,” Y/N muttered as they reread the email from Tyler Hayward for the umpteenth time, their boyfriend Bucky sitting next to them, his metal arm around their shoulders, and his fingers playing with their hair.

Because Y/N had similar powers to Wanda in that they both had energy blasts and their powers connected to the mind, Hayward wanted Y/N to come in and essentially take down Wanda because Y/N’s energy blasts were stronger than Wanda’s. However Y/N wasn’t fond of fighting their friend.

“Neither do I,” Bucky agreed. “Which is why I’m coming with you.”

Y/N smiled, leaning their head against Bucky’s shoulder. They knew they couldn’t talk Bucky out of this and wasn’t sure if they wanted to.

“I can’t help but think that if I had been there for Wanda more after Vision-” Y/N started to say, feeling the tears starting to form. God, ever since the Avengers brought everyone back - Y/N and Bucky included - all Y/N had felt like they were doing was crying. First for Natasha, then Vision, and now Wanda.

“Don’t do that to yourself, doll. You tried to reach out and be there for Wanda and there was only so much you could do,” he said, hugging them close.

Y/N sighed, nodding. “I just- I don't get why she would do this to all those people,” they said, eyes flickering back to the email detailing in a harsh tone what exactly had happened to Westview and Captain Rambeau.

“Grief does unimaginable things to people - especially those with Wanda’s abilities. She probably didn’t mean what she did, and you’re gonna go make her realize that,” Bucky told them comfortingly, pressing a kiss to their forehead.

Y/N rubbed their face with their hand, a million questions about their current situation running through their head. Hopefully they could fix it.

--------------------------------------------

As Y/N and Bucky walked into the S.W.O.R.D. base, they entered right as Captain Rambeau and Hayward were in a heated argument, and the couple paused to listen to what they were saying. As Y/N listened, they found themself starting to agree with Rambeau. Hayward didn’t just want Y/N to take down Wanda, he wanted Y/N to . . . to . . . they couldn’t imagine it, and Y/N didn’t want to hurt their former teammate and friend.

As Hayward began to get ready for another argument, Y/N made their presence known. They stepped forward, towards Rambeau and Hayward. “If you want me to cooperate with this investigation, know that I will first try to talk to Wanda and then I might fight her if it is necessary. Nothing more,” they said.

Hayward frowned, turning to look at Y/N, then at Rambeau and Bucky and finally at the other S.W.O.R.D agents nodding who were nodding in agreement with Y/N. “Fine,” he hissed with venom. “Don’t come crying when your way fails and you end up dead.” Bucky would’ve went after him as he walked off had Y/N not grabbed his arm and squeezed his hand in a comforting manner.

--------------------------------------------

When Y/N entered Westview, they were able to retain their memories due to their own powers, but their communication with S.W.O.R.D. (and Bucky) was lost. Thankfully it wasn’t that painful to enter Westview and Y/N was able to shake it off, but now they had to find Westview.

As they walked and looking around, they tried to blend in. Everyone walking around town looked normal, but knowing that they were not, and that there was some kind of underlying darkness in the fake cherry facade sparked some fear inside them. Finally, Y/N reached Wanda and Vision’s house and knocked on the door, a bit hesitantly.

When Vision opened the door, Y/N almost choked on air as they tried to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape their lips. Y/N quickly recovered and smiled at the robot. “Hello, I’m looking for Wanda Maximoff. Is she home?”

Vision nodded and directed them inside, telling them they could sit on the couch while he called for Wanda and then went into the other room.

When Wanda came down the stairs and saw Y/N, her smile instantly turned into a frown and she stilled. Y/N saw this and calmly stood up. “Wanda-”

“Did they send you?” Wanda cut them off in an off-putting calm tone, titling her head to the side as she slowly walked down the rest of the stairs.

Y/N didn’t answer that. “I”m here to help you, Wanda,” they said.

Wanda’s eyes briefly flashed red before she composed herself. “There is nothing you could do to help me. I have Vision and I have the perfect life,” she said, monotone.

Y/N shook their head in argument. “You're a hero, Wanda! You don’t want to keep hurting all these innocent people. Besides, you’re not coping with Vision’s death in a healthy way.”

“He’s NOT dead!” The redhead cried, advancing towards Y/N, hands beginning to glow red, making Y/N still.

“I’m your-” Y/N tried to say, but again Wanda cut them off.

“DO NOT SAY FRIEND!”

The outburst made them both silent and, glancing at Wanda’s hands, Y/N conjured their own powers, their hands now glowing silver. “My energy blasts are stronger than yours - please, don’t make me fight you. We can talk,” Y/N tried once last time, slowly moving back.

Wanda smirked. “Your energy blasts may be stronger, but you cannot protect me from your mind,” she said, sending an energy blast at Y/N.

Instinctively, Y/N went to block Wanda’s powers with their own. Wanda used this to her advantage and let one of her hands continue sending the energy blasts. Immediately, Y/N started to easily overpower her and before Y/N could finish that, Wanda used her free hand to send a different energy blast their way (which Y/N didn’t notice because they were too preoccupied with Wanda’s previous energy blasts), and it soon hit Y/N’s forehead and entered their mind, making them falter.

Y/N fell to their needs without realizing it and slowly stopped fighting Wanda, being overtaken by the memories flashes throughout their mind. First they saw the love of their life disappearing.

“Bucky? What - your hand! What’s happening to you?”

“Don’t worry about it, love.”

“You’re disappearing! BUCKY!”

Y/N remembered how they screamed and how they tried to hold onto Bucky, they remembered how painful it was, having to watch him die.

“NOOOOOOOOHHH! BUCKY? BUCKY!”

They remembered moments after they Bucky disappeared they cried because they had lost, and then recalled how scared they were when they saw their foot disappear, and then their hand, and soon their entire body.

“We l-lost. GODDAMNIT WE LOST! BUCKY . . . no. No please. PLEASE YOU TOOK HIM WHY DO YOU HAVE TO TAKE ME TOO? - PLEASE DON’T-”

Y/N gasped and when she blinked, the memory was over. They glanced up at Wanda in tears, feeling weakened, and suddenly Wanda blasted them through the wall and towards the barrier. Y/N tried to use their powers to stop Wanda and it started to delay her until Y/N saw another memory. They screamed as they were forced to relive it and felt the pain from Wanda’s powers, and their screams got choked by sobs when they hit the barrier, which was much more painful now that they were leaving Westview from when they had entered.

--------------------------------------------

As soon as Bucky saw his partner blasted back into the outside world, heard their screams, and then saw them hit the ground with a sickening thump, he ignored the orders Hayward was yelling out and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. When he reached Y/N, he noticed that they were half-conscious.

“Bucky . . . You’re alive,” Y/N said tiredly.

Bucky had no time to be confused over what they meant and scooped them up in his arms, cursing under his breath when they passed out. He then headed straight for his car, not trusting S.W.O.R.D. to help Y/N with what Wanda’s magic did when they didn’t know how to handle her, and went to Sam’s place. Sam would help, right? He had patched up Steve and Nat in 2014, after-all.

--------------------------------------------

About an hour later when Sam had helped Bucky patch Y/N up, Bucky laid Y/N in Sam’s guest bedroom and took to sitting at their bedside, looking at them. Despite being unconscious, they were peaceful, and Bucky took Y/N’s hand in his metal one, smiling sadly.

All he could think about was whatever could have happened? Y/N was stronger than Wanda, why didn’t they win? And then . . . when Y/N had said that Bucky was alive . . . did Wanda make Y/N think that he was dead? That very thought made Bucky tense up, anger flaring through him at the redhead for hurting Y/N and doing whatever else he had done.

However, when the soldier looked back at his partner, all that anger melted away. Just looking at them calmed him, because he was reassured that they were safe and that they were okay. Bucky thought and then pressed a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. Now it was just time to wait for them to wake up.

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dramaqueeenamby · 4 years

Text

WAP • Steve R. & Thor O.

A/N: Smut. No plot at all. Just smut. THIS IS A ONESHOT.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+. Threesome. Double penetration. Oral (male and female both receiving and giving). Cum kink?. Light choking. Very light dom theme.

Words: 3.4K

-------

You wanted to fuck Steve.

But you also wanted to fuck Thor.

It was a problem, a persistent desire that lapped at you even while doing the most mundane tasks such as sitting in on a teleconference meeting with either of them. They spoke politics. You thought dirty.

It was the textbook definition of unprofessional, but damnit, you wanted what you wanted, and you wanted them both.

Separately, of course.

Or maybe at the same time.

The thought sent chills up your spine and throughout your core.

The infatuation began the first day you accepted the job as Stark’s assistant. And that was another thing, your desire initially geared toward Tony. Maybe it was the wife and kid that obliterated the flame. You couldn’t do that to a family man no matter how badly you wanted to literally do the family man.

Some things, some people, were just off limits.

Stark was one of them.

And so, you’d accepted your position as his assistant and became okay with the fact that it was the only position the retired playboy could put you in.

Perhaps that was what did it. You’d never liked not having someone to play with.

And here walked in Stars and Stripes, himself. For a fossil, he played the role of everyday Jake quite well.

There were tiny telltale signs, however, that he was truly the right man living in the wrong time.

For one, his damn wardrobe. Slacks and a button up shirt. That was all you ever saw him in. Goddamnit, the man was in desperate need of some jeans or even better—gray sweats.

And his hair, it was always slicked back. You could always imagine him standing in the mirror of his one-bedroom apartment, making sure it looked presentable.

No one gave a damn about that anymore.

You just wanted to reach up and mess it for him half the time or grab onto it as he ate you out from off the copy machine, but you digressed.

And his speech, so proper, so focused on the semantics. Two things he never did: contractions, profanity, and you.

Okay, so that was three, but your prayer was to get it to two!

Or was it to nail two of them?

That brought you to Thor.

That smug, son of a bitch.

You wanted to slap that smirk off his face at least once a day and smother his face at least once every half hour. A good balance, if you could say so yourself.

You knew his dick was big. You just knew it. So was Steve. It’s just you weren’t sure if Born In the USA remembered how to use it. That wasn’t a concern with Thor. You saw how he eyed some of the interns and trainees. Hell, even Natasha before she promptly put him in his place.

That selfish bitch.

You’d give anything to have him put you in your place.

Right on top of his dick.

And it wasn’t like you were enduring a dick famine. You had several men on rotation, but they were all so boring. There was no spark there, anymore. Half the time, you had to do all of the work anyhow, and that just simply wasn’t fair.

You deserved better.

You deserved the Dream Dick Team.

“Scan these in for me.” Stark dropped a stack of paperwork onto your desk with his left hand while reading over another massive pile in his right. “Thanks, kid.”

You reached over, grabbing it already knowing that I had to be separated and sorted as well. Stark’s method of organization didn’t exactly correspond with the systems that the company used, but it did help to eat up time, so there was that.

“I do have a name, you know.”

“I know. It’s kid.” He called out, disappearing down the hall, oblivious to the middle finger you flashed his way.

“I saw that.”

Or maybe not.

“Sorry, boss.”

You didn’t actually mean it. One of the benefits of working for Stark, sans the much-needed medical coverage, was that the line between professionalism and unprofessionalism was pretty damn blurred. And no one smudged that line more than Stark. He was a fun boss, which made you inclined to believe he was equally as fun in the sheets, not that you would ever get to find out.

Your huff was laced with disappointment and frustration.

All of the good ones really were taken. Or too damn polite to choke you and spit in your mouth. Or from another fucking planet with an abundance of readily available alien pussy.

A tiny gasp emitted as you shuffled through the paperwork. What if they had multiple genitalia or some shit? The thought nearly brought tears to your eyes. Double penetration. Double the pleasure. Double the fun. And fuck forever—ever ever.

This was so damn cruel. The universe clearly didn’t want to see you and your four holes happy, and you were sick and tired of the ardent disrespect.

“Greetings, Y/N.”

Goddamn that fucking greeting bullshit. Unless it was a greeting between your mouth and his dick, you didn’t want to hear it.

“Captain. Thor.” You nodded to each of them, respectively, fully aware of the discomfort that stemmed from Steve.

“I’ve told you, Y/N. Steve is just fine.”

“How about daddy?”

Okay. So, a couple of things could happen in that moment. You could slide back in your chair with wheels and knock your head into the desk until you were unconscious. You could roll back in that chair with wheels, and sprint like you stole something. Or, you could play dumb and pretend what you just said wasn’t really what you just said.

All seemed viable options, really, and you were leaning more toward the sprinting.

But then something happened, something completely horrible and disgusting and despicable and just vile.

He laughed.

The motherfucker laughed.

You.....what?

And then, he made it even worse.

“Sure, why not.”

You pushed your braids behind your ears. Maybe your hearing was off. Yeah, that was it. You were way overdo for an appointment with the ENT doctor, anyway.

“Excuse me?”

This time, Thor spoke. “He’s been waiting some time, Lady Y/N. For you to say that. We both have.”

Your eyes darted from side to side. “What?”

Steve stuffed his hands in his slacks and shrugged. “It’s true, but we knew you’d finally say something when you were ready.”

“Say what?”

Steve spoke so plainly, so calmly, so unlike everything that you were currently feeling. “That you want us to fuck you.”

Sweet, Black Baby Jesus. It’d finally happened. The world had gone to hell in a handbasket.

That was literally the only explanation for not only what was just said, but for what followed what was just said.

“So, come on.”

You struggled but managed a response. “C-come where.”

“Hmm. Preferably, all over that pretty face of yours.”

“Or the pretty lips.”

But, for now, with us.”

You know those moments where all you can do is say what in the actual fuck is life? Well, that statement was made for moments like this. Kelly Clarkson was definitely onto something.

“Y/N.” You jumped in your seat when you realized that he was merely inches away from your face, fists into the desk. “We won’t ask again.”

The sensible thing to do was to continue to probe to figure out just what level of hell this was. Dante should have showed up at any minute. But what did your dumbass do? You slid back in your chair with wheels, stood, and allowed the two men you considered bosses to lead you down the hall, into the elevator, and into the same conference room where you often patiently sat and waited to the side for Stark to finish.

And unfortunately, it was never on you.

Except, this time, you weren’t in the corner, you were on the table, courtesy of Thor picking you up and placing you down as if you were a lightweight.

He stepped back and stood beside Steve while you just looked like any meme from the mid to late 2000’s, still 100% confused as to what in Beyonce’s name was going on.

“Where do we start with you?” Steve spoke to himself, or maybe Thor too, your brain was too foggy to pay too much attention to where or who his words were directed.

“Take your clothes off. Everything.”

Like the dumbass bitch you are, you looked from side to side and pointed to yourself. “Me?”

Wrong move, Dory.

With inhuman speed, Thor stood in front of you, hand around your throat. His grip was loose but firm, so much so that your thighs pushed together. God, you wanted him to squeeze tighter.

“Now.”

And just like that, he was back next to Steve. You wasted no time in following orders this time around. You couldn’t unbutton your blouse fast enough, tossing it to the floor. Every other piece of clothing that covered your body followed suit until you were completely nude, back sitting on the table, legs pressed together.

Well, initially.

The silence was making you uncomfortable. You craved some type of communication. Contact would be even better. And the way they were just looking at you, it didn’t help.

Gradually, your legs parted, revealing your bare pussy. God, you were grateful you kept that wax appointment. It didn’t miss you how Thor’s brow quipped, and Steve’s jaw twitched.

A small smile played on your face as you innocently asked. “What?”

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so innocent, but time was of the essence, and you needed your essence to be spilling from here to the 98th floor sooner rather than later.

“She mocks us.”

“It seems so.”

Holy fuck, this was getting to be fun. You’d hooked their attention, now you just had to reel it in. Your right hand seemed to sense the pending activities and wanted to get a jump. Slowly lifting from its firmly planted spot on the table, your hand moved to your full breast, down your stomach folds, over your fupa, and bow chika wow wow.

You chewed on your bottom lip when you felt your kitty. She was already leaking dew.

“Fuck yourself.”

Two words. One task. Mission: accepted.

You went to work, your three middle fingers working in perfect synchronization, tending to your sensitive and neglected bud. God, you’d masturbated in the shower just this morning, but this felt so different. Probably because of the two men who stood before you. Speaking of, you opened your eyes and grinned wryly at their reactions.

They were pissed, and that only caused a loud moan to leave your mouth as you slapped your own cunt, loving the sound it made because of the slickness.

“I’m so fucking wet.” You played around with your wetness, lifting your hand and sticking your fingers in your mouth, licking each digit one by one, dropping your hand to your breast and playing with your nipples. “Oh my fucking God.”

You were gradually making yourself a sticky mess, not to mention, the mess you’d made all over the table, but you gave not a single fuck. The only fuck, fucks, you gave were about the two men who stood before you.

Returning your hand to your throbbing pussy, you laid back on the table so that you could reach deeper, plunging your fingers inside, milking yourself. Every so often, you’d remove your fingers and spread your juice all over your vaginal area. Call it a kink, but you loved the feeling of cum all over your body. Yours. His. Anyone’s. It was just a serious thrill for you.

“Fuck!” You shouted just as you started to feel the familiar intensity brewing in the pit of your stomach because your ankles were grabbed, harshly yanking you down off the table. Your feet never touched the ground, however, because you were laid on your stomach over the arms of a wheely chair.

Seconds later, your hips were lifted, your ass perked up in the air.

“I think she’s ready for us, don’t you, Thor?” You whined. You could feel Steve’s cool breath on your pussy. He had to be centimeters away from fulfilling ½ of your dream fucking, and yet was insisting on this tantalizing yet frustrating wait.

“Would you just eat my fucking pussy alr--” You shouted as he silenced your protest with obedience. Holy fucking hell, if you could, you would have screamed so loud that all of Manhattan could hear you. He lapped and sucked with an insatiable hunger, booty jerking around but only momentarily as he brought his hands to your hips to hold you still while he feasted.

You dropped your head only to have it yanked up by Thor grabbing a fistful of your braids and forcing you to look at him.

“Such a pretty mouth.” Your eyes almost bugged out of your fucking head when you saw his massive dick, hard and dripping with cum, just hanging in front of you. You were already salivating in anticipation when he used his thumb to part your full lips. “We shall see if you can use it to please your king.”

Without even so much as a warning, he forced your mouth open with his thick fingers and forced your jaw to its absolute max as he stuffed his even thicker dick in your mouth, You immediately felt him stabbing the back of your throat, and the sensation brought tears to your eyes and butterflies to your stomach.

He didn’t have you too shook though because you immediately went to slurping and deepthroating, bracing your elbows on the arms of the chair while holding onto his hips to stabilize you.

Thor’s head went to the top of your head, taking a fistful of your braids. You peaked up over your eyelids to see his head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth tensed. You were so proud of yourself that you took another inch, practically gagging as tears continued to spill from your eyes. The tears a combination of how stuffed you felt, orally, and from the oral pleasure America’s finest was causing down below.

God, who would have thought the fossil could eat pussy so well?

Thor had started face fucking you, the intensity of the thrusts of his hips into your mouth causing the chair to slide back and forth. Still, Steve’s mouth stayed attached to your pussy, and by now, your entire lower half was a stick hot mess.

And you fucking loved it.

It was enough to make you cum. Again, that was.

Even as Steve made you cum, Thor refused to allow you the room to breathe. This caused an intensity in your tears. It was so blissfully overwhelming. You hadn’t a clue what you’d done to deserve this, but goddamnit were you relieved.

Hell wasn’t so bad after all, and if Dante wanted to join in, the more, the merrier.

You moaned, mouthful of Thor, when Steve pulled out only for your ears and ass to perk up when you felt something thick and hot against your ass. “Such a sweet pussy.”

“Is she?”

“Absolutely,” Steve grunted, reaffirming his grasp on your hips. “Now to feel you around my dick.”

Impaled. Stuffed. Exploding. Those were all words that only halfheartedly described how you felt. You didn’t have to see Steve to know that he was big in girth and long in length, I.e. the perfect combination. He was so deep inside of you, hips repeatedly and firmly clashing into yours, driving his dick deeper and deeper into you.

By now, Thor had also freed your mouth and allowed your jaw a respite, but not before emptying all over your face. Your pussy clenched against Steve as you excitedly allowed your tongue to travel as much of your mouth as you could, sucking in Thor’s cum. It was simply majestic, as was he, as was this entire fucking, well, fucking.

Your moans and screams echoed and bounced off every wall, surely reverberating down the hall and across the various floors. You gave absolutely zero fucks. All of New York could hear you for all you cared.

Thor continued to jerk off in front of you, still very much hard even after splattering you with his cum.

What a God.

As expected, Steve made you cum several times, squirting the last time, the first time you’d ever done so. It was more than you could have ever asked for. And yet, it truly was the gift that kept on giving.

After completely filling you with him cum, Steve pulled out of you, making sure to use his fingers to smear the cum that leaked all over your pussy lips.

Seconds later, they switched, Thor was behind you, Steve in front of you. However, Thor quickly flipped you over so that you were on you back and stood between your spread and tacky thighs.

“Do you think you can take me, little one?” He asked mockingly, fingers playing with the cum on your stomach. You nodded furiously, only to feel your jaw grabbed and head craned back.

Steve’s bulbous head tapped against your lips. You opened eagerly, downing him at the same moment Thor slammed into you. If not for them steadying you, you would have jumped right off that chair. Steve was big, but Thor was massive and curved. A curved dick was your dream come true.

Actually, being dually fucked by a God and Captain America yourself was your dream, and now, a reality.

What an afterlife.

The both took you, front and back, roughly. You were being whisked back and forth like a rag doll, your titties flopping all over the place. Whiplash was most definitely a concern as well as the inability to walk tomorrow, or ever, but really, what a better way to be rendered incapacitated?

I mean, Steve was literally beating on the little dangly thang that swing in the back of your throat, and had you been able to look down, you could almost bet you could see Thor in your fucking stomach. He was just that deep.

This was the hill you would die on, and you couldn’t be happier.

Your face was damp from persistent tears and tacky from slowly drying cum, a layer of light sweat soaking you from head to toe, and you knew that your edges were shot, but none of that mattered, especially when Thor pulled out and started to eat you out, your thighs clamped around his head, trapping him. He could stay there forever. They both could.

Unfortunately, all god things must come to a respite, or whatever the fairy tales said.

After cumming at least 87.5 times, they both freed your beaten and thoroughly used mouth and vagina. There was so much cum, it was splattered all over your pelvis, dripping onto the floor. You’d never been so stuffed. Literally.

“Are you okay?”

Thor asked, or maybe Steve. You were too physically exhausted to pay that much attention, your eyes fluttering shut. “Fucking divine.”

“Excuse me?”

Your eyes shot open and you were met with puzzled expressions from both Thor and Steve.

You looked around, you were seated in your desk, hair still intact, fully clothed, edges still laid. You paused.

What the fuck?

“Are you sure you’re alright, darling?” Steve’s concerned voice broke your stunned trance. This....this couldn't be happening. No fucking way. You did not just dream all that. It wasn’t possible. It was too damn real.

And yet....

You felt at your face. It was moisturized, but with CeraVe. Not CeraCum.

“It was a fantasy....” You whispered to yourself, holding back tears. “None of it was real.”

“Would you like us to talk to Stark about allowing you to get off earlier?”

Your eyes widened. “But, I already did,” you all but whined.

Thor whispered to Steve. “Is this what you Midgardians call a psychotic break?”

This was cruel, beyond cruel, sinfully wicked. You had no words. Thor and Steve watched as you whined while gathering your shit. You didn't even bother clocking out or shutting off the computer. You just had to get out of there and fast.

You said not a word to either men as you stumped off completely done with the day, and, well, life.

It wasn’t until you entered the elevator that both men chuckled.

“This is going to be fun.”

“No, she is.”

Steve and Thor chuckled, anticipation for the next time already brewing.

#Steve Rogers x reader #cpatain america x reader #thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #steve rogers smut #captain america smut #marvel fanficiton #fic: wap

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