#But the only boxes I have are either massive or way too small | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

navybrat817 · 1 year ago

Note

How does Bucky handle you being sick? 🥺

I may have gone overboard, nonnie. 😂

Sick Day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky takes care of you when you get a cold. He also takes care of the guy who may have given you a cold.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, humor, established relationship, reader has a cold, implied smut, interrogation, Bucky Barnes being a ridiculously wonderful boyfriend in love (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I don't know where this came from. Maybe a bit of inspiration from @inklore here. 😂❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When you had a hard time getting out of bed this morning due to a cold you caught at work, you tried to brush it off. Bucky immediately called in to take a personal day and said he had to take care of you, which forced you to take a sick day as well. It was for the best. You had a tendency to push yourself past your limit some days and he kept you in check.

You snatched a tissue out of the box beside you just in time to sneeze into it. With a pained groan, you scrunched up your face and dropped the tissue into the small pile in your lap. It took you a moment to sip your water, followed by your herbal tea. Though your throat was sore, you had to stay hydrated. You also had to get some rest.

Bucky wouldn’t let you hear the end of it if you didn’t.

“I hate this,” you mumbled to yourself before your boyfriend rushed into the living room to check on you, his piercing eyes searching the room as if to assess a threat.

“I heard you talking, baby. You need to rest your voice,” he said, adjusting the humidifier he set on the coffee table before his concerned gaze snapped back to you. “Wait. Do you need something? Do you not have enough blankets? I can get you more tea. Or I can put something on TV. Shit, where’s the writing pad?”

You tried not to smile as the massive shirtless supersoldier bustled around the room. He hadn’t seen you under the weather since the two of you started dating and you should’ve known he’d make a big deal out of it. Whether it had to do with growing up with Steve who dealt with all sorts of ailments or simply because it was his girlfriend feeling less than stellar, you weren’t sure. Either way, it was endearing to see the former Winter Soldier worked up over you.

He had nothing to worry about though.

“I’m fine,” you croaked before you went into a coughing fit.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he crouched beside you and brought the water back to your lips once you had yourself under control. His brows furrowed when he checked your forehead with his right hand, which made you fall in love with him a little more. You tried to tell him earlier to keep his distance so he didn’t get sick before he gently reminded you that he wasn’t exactly prone to catching colds thanks to the serum.

A silver lining from the pain he had to go through.

“You’re not fine. You’re sick. Well, you’re still 'fine',” he smiled a little, making your heart swell. “I used that in the right context, didn’t I?”

You almost went into another coughing fit as you giggled, the sound huskier and deeper than normal. “Only you would think I’m fine when I’m like this,” you said, reaching up to run your fingers through his silky chestnut hair. He hadn’t brushed it today. Too busy taking care of you. “And I’m not ‘sick’ sick. it’s just a cold.”

“It isn’t just a cold. Not to me,” he said, his jaw clenching as his vibranium fingers curled.

“I’ll be better before you know it,” you assured him, raising an eyebrow as his cheek twitched. “What’s the matter?”

Why is he getting himself worked up?

“I just don’t like you feeling any kind of pain,” he said, leaning up so he could press his lips to your forehead. He huffed as they lingered there. “I wish I could take it away and I can’t.”

It was a sweet sentiment, especially after everything he went through.

“I know you would if you could and it’s okay that you can’t,” you said. You understood where he was coming from though because you didn’t like the idea of him in pain either. He had a heart almost as large as his body and you were lucky to get a single ounce of his love. “Don’t worry, okay?”

“You’re my girl and it's impossible not to worry,” he said, a touch of possession and tenderness seeping into his tone. Belonging to him was as natural as breathing. “But I'll try to relax a bit.”

“As long as you try,” you said as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

Your head tingled from his lips before you frowned. This close, you could usually get a whiff of his woodsy cologne. Your eyes welled up when you inhaled again and couldn’t smell him, doing your best to blink the tears away so he wouldn't catch them. It was silly that you suddenly missed the comfort of that smell because your nose was acting up.

He didn’t need your tears on top of that.

But, of course, he caught your sad sniffle, which sounded slightly different from your cold sniffle. His body stiffened, like a cobra ready to strike. “Tell me what’s wrong, even if I can’t physically fix it.”

God, I love this man.

“I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I really miss the smell of your cologne,” you told him, your gaze probably nothing short of pathetic as you tilted your head to see his handsome face.

Your breath caught when he looked back at you and brushed a tear away with his thumb. There was nothing but love and adoration in those brilliant eyes of his. It made you feel lighter.

“That’s far from ridiculous because I smell amazing,” he teased, bumping his nose against yours to bring a smile to your face. “How about I spray the blankets after you take a nap and I make you some soup? That way my scent will be there even if you can't smell it.”

Tears clogged your throat as you gave him a nod, committing the moment to memory. You were used to going it alone before he came into your life. He couldn’t take the pain away, but he could make you feel better in ways that mattered to you. That likely comforted him just as much as it soothed you.

“That would be great,” you said, yawning a bit. “Can we watch a movie after my nap?”

“We'll watch whatever you want.”

You pulled him close so he could join you on the couch, knowing that his muscular and warm frame against yours would feel just as comforting and safe as the blanket that covered you. And he relaxed and quickly accepted your wordless invitation to wrap his arms around you, keeping you in his loving embrace. It was home and always would be.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, closing your eyes as you nuzzled your head against his bare chest. “I love you.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” he promised, his vibranium hand moving in slow circles along your back as you began to drift off. “I love you, too.”

You let out a happy moan before you said one more thing. “And hunt down the person who gave me this cold, okay?”

With your eyes shut, you didn’t see the determination written all over his face. “You got it, baby.”

You were right as rain and back to work a couple of days later, thanks to Bucky caring for you and some much needed rest. Not even an hour into your shift though, Steve requested for you to meet him in the second lower level. You didn't hide your surprise as that was usually reserved for interrogations.

Which was exactly why he called you down there.

“What's going on?” You asked as you walked into the viewing room. Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Tony all looked your way, but didn't give you any sort of response. “Seriously, what's up?”

“You don't know?” Natasha responded, nodding toward the glass.

You followed her gaze with a gasp as you saw Bucky tower over some blonde male agent in the cell. Your boyfriend was almost unrecognizable with his face devoid of any emotion, dominant and on the edge of terrifying. It was a far cry from the loving side you were privy to, yet you loved this side of him just the same.

“Buck dragged John down here a few minutes ago,” Steve explained in a quiet voice as he punched the bridge of his nose. “Said something about him hurting you.”

You tilted your head as you looked at John, recognizing him after a second due to his punchable face. “Him? No. He didn't hurt me. He just bumped into me the other day in the break room,” you explained. Which wasn't that big of a deal to you, but probably offensive to Bucky. “But he didn't apologize.”

He also had a cold.

Oh, no.

“So, you had nothing to do with this?” Sam asked, chuckling as you lifted your chin.

“No, I didn't,” you replied as you bit your lip. “At least, I don't think I had anything to do with this.”

Your heart raced faster when Bucky pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and gripped John by the collar, the veins in his right arm popping out. You wished you could lick them. Maybe later.

“I know it was you, you piece of shit,” he said, roughly shoving the agent back into his chair. “You got my girl sick.”

Oh, Bucky.

You stared straight ahead as you felt the group collectively look your way, refusing to react under their stares. “Before any of you say another word, this is definitely not my fault,” you stated.

“Of course it isn't,” Natasha smirked. She knew Bucky loved to play the hero on your behalf even though you could take care of yourself. “Just enjoy the show.”

Your mouth fell open as your boyfriend slammed his left fist on the table, leaving a sizable dent as John nearly fell backwards in his chair. This guy was an agent? He was either new to interrogations or simply scared shitless of the former assassin.

Maybe both.

But you ignored him as you shifted your attention back to your beefy, perfect boyfriend.

When you had mumbled for him to find the person who gave you the cold, you didn’t think he’d actually do it. You weren’t sure how he narrowed down to John, but the former assassin was resourceful and you should've known he'd take you seriously. And, fuck, if it wasn’t slightly mortifying on your behalf and hot as hell watching him in action.

“That cold you gave her made her cry. You made my girl cry. Do you know what I do to guys like you who make my girl cry?” Bucky said through his teeth, bringing his fist down on the table again as John flinched and you smiled. With all the strength he possessed, you never had to worry that he'd hurt you. But you couldn't say the same for the frightened agent. “You're about to find out.”

You didn't think you could love Bucky more after he helped you get over your cold, but he proved you wrong.

And you could now add Bucky threatening people to your list of things that made you dreamily sigh and tingle between your thighs.

“Look, I'm sorry. I’m sorry! All I did was bump into her. It was an accident!” John shouted, putting his hands up in surrender and trembling when Bucky stood to his full height and cracked his neck. Your boyfriend waited a beat before he grabbed one of his hands and began to twist, making the agent pale as you bit back a whimper. “Fuck, stop! I won’t even breathe around her again. I’ll hold my breath! Just let me go!”

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Tony asked you, taking out his phone to type a quick message as you hummed. Maybe you were enjoying it. How many guys went out of their way to scare someone who possibly gave you a cold? “Does the Manchurian Candidate know how much I’ll have to pay to keep this guy from suing him?”

“We can tell him it was a prank?” Steve suggested, bringing another laugh out of Sam as Natasha shook her head.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he flung the hand away, his hair falling in his eyes as you held your breath. He looked like a wild animal, untamed and stunning. “I should choke you. Make you see how long you can really hold your breath before you pass out,” he snarled as John rubbed his sore skin.

Steve snuck a glance at you, his cheeks a little pink when you put a hand to your throat. “I don't want to overstep because you're my best friend's girl, but you do know you just moaned, right?” He whispered low enough for only you to hear.

Oops.

“Oh, my god,” you groaned, putting your warm face in your hands to hide your embarrassment for a moment. “Is anyone going to stop him?!”

“Why haven’t you stopped him?” Natasha countered knowingly.

Because I’m too busy thinking of how I’m going to suck his dick so good later that I'll make him see God.

You took a breath as the ache between your legs got stronger and pressed the button beside the glass. “Bucky?”

He swung his head toward the glass and met your gaze even though he couldn’t see you. No matter what, he’d always be able to spot you. “Hey, baby. I found the prick who gave you a cold. Want me to beat the shit out of him?” he bragged as John paled.

“I love you,” you giggled from how sweet and ridiculous he was. “And no. I appreciate you defending me, but I think you can let him go.”

Tony playfully rolled his eyes when Bucky grinned. “Your crazy matches his crazy.”

True.

“Okay. I love you, too,” Bucky said in a light tone, his smile falling the second he looked back at John and smacked the table against the wall with a clang. The agent looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Next time you see my girl, apologize and walk away. And the next time you have a cold, stay the fuck home or you'll answer to me.”

Yeah. I’m going to suck the soul from his body to thank him for everything the moment we get home.

And maybe the two of you could take another sick day to spend the day in bed.

Totally normal boyfriend, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

1K notes · View notes

tevanavernus · 5 months ago

Note

how about some angst for established bucktommy? i only got vibes for you: held at gunpoint on a call, one of them gets in between the gun and the other, wanting to shield them 👀❤️

[Thanks for the request! I see your angst and raise you: they're both idiots trying to protect each other. Hope you like this! Also, they're still...technically on call right? ❤️]

In hindsight, Tommy should have known the other shoe would eventually drop. He should have prepared himself for it, should have anticipated that the universe wouldn't let happiness linger around him for too long. But it was easy to forget, wrapped up in Evan's orbit, with his blinding grins and the way he wore his heart so openly on his sleeve. It made Tommy drop his guard, lulled him into a sense of security.

That's not to say it was all sunshine and smiles. They had their bad days—days when they got snappy with each other or when an argument dragged on for longer than it should. There were cold shoulders, fueled by pride or stubbornness, but those days never lasted long. One of them always caved, and they'd find their way back to each other, realizing that whatever it was just wasn't worth staying mad over. It had taken Evan a while to truly believe that Tommy wasn't going anywhere, but eventually, even he came to accept it.

So now, a year after their failed first date, Tommy's old house was cluttered with moving boxes and scattered belongings, as they tried to find permanent spots for Evan's things. The chaos drove Tommy a little insane, having to step over things and deal with the mess of combining their lives. But if it meant Evan was in his bed every night? It was more than worth it in Tommy's opinion.

The morning, though, should have been the first clue that the day was about to turn to shit.

Evan had an early shift, so by the time Tommy woke up, his side of the bed was cold—a sure deduction of points right off the bat. Then came the next blow: apparently, Evan had left in a rush and, in doing so, had used up the last of the oat milk. Which meant Tommy was now doomed to drink black coffee. He'd sighed in resignation as he spotted the sticky note attached to the fridge that read, "Sorry babe, I'll buy more after shift! Ily <3"—but pocketed it for safekeeping despite the frustration. Sure, it was a small inconvenience. But still, it set the tone, didn't it? Little things tend to pile up.

The biggest clue? The storm. It was meant to be stormy all day, and in Tommy's experience—other than meeting Evan—storms never led to anything good, especially for Harbour. People tended to get careless, acting like they weren't facing weather they were completely unprepared for.

Tommy's instincts were proven right when, not even halfway through his shift, they were called out to a massive pileup on the highway. Multiple vehicles were involved, and dozens of people needed transport to hospitals. So, as always, Tommy did what he did best: jumped into a helicopter and flew out to the scene with his team.

From the bird's-eye view, he hissed in sympathy at the sight. The wreckage was bad—mangled metal, cars overturned, and scattered debris everywhere. It wasn't pretty. But there wasn't time to dwell on that. As soon as they touched down, his team sprang into action.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the familiar 118 number at the scene. Over the past year, he and Evan had crossed paths at work more often than either had probably anticipated, but never for anything small. When Harbour and the 118 were both on-site, it usually meant there was no time to spare, not even for a quick hello.

Tommy knew how this went. Most of the time, he didn't even leave the cockpit while his team prepped patients for transport. And today wasn't any different. He stayed put, eyes scanning the scene, focusing on his job. He sighed, knowing he'd have to wait until they were home to talk to Evan. Though, for a brief moment, he thought he saw a familiar pair of wet curls rushing through the chaos, the saw in hand.

It wasn't until the fourth round trip that the storm really began to pick up, and Tommy found himself battling the wind and gusts of rain to safely land on the hospital's helipad. The helicopter shook slightly as the weather worsened, and Tommy had to grip the controls a little tighter, to guide the aircraft down through the increasingly erratic winds.

Just as they touched down, the call came in over his headset to ground them. The storm had escalated to the point where it wasn't safe to fly anymore. Tommy let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that even though it was the right call, it meant he wouldn't be able to get back to the scene. Grounded meant he would be stuck in the hospital, waiting out the weather.

His thoughts drifted back to Evan—out there in the middle of it. So, when Tommy was the last one in the helicopter, he took a moment to pull out his phone, hoping for a text or update. But the screen was empty. No messages, no missed calls. He knew he shouldn't worry—Evan had handled worse, and a storm was just another part of the job. But despite that knowledge, his stomach clenched uncomfortably.

Tommy pocketed the phone, feeling a bit ridiculous for worrying so much. He exited the helicopter, and even in the quick dash to the hangar door, the rain managed to half-drench him. His pilot suit clung uncomfortably to his skin, the chill seeping in. He grimaced, brushing a hand through his damp hair.

"Great," he muttered to himself, shivering slightly as he pushed open the door and stepped inside. From there, he navigated the labyrinth of hallways, heading down toward the ED. After years on the job, Tommy had learned a few secrets from some of the nurses—like the fact that the coffee in the cafeteria near the ED was much better than what they had in other wings of the hospital.

It seemed like luck was on his side when Tommy noticed the familiar set of curls hunched over the nurse's station as he entered the ED. Evan hadn't noticed him yet, which gave Tommy a moment to take in the sight—completely drenched, looking like a wet rat after being caught in the storm. Tommy had to bite back a laugh at how disheveled he looked.

"Hey, handsome," Tommy grinned as he slunk up to where Evan stood.

Evan jumped slightly, glancing up from his notes. His expression softened into a tired but genuine smile, water still dripping from his curls.

"Hey yourself," he said, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes. "What are you still doing here?

"Dropped off the last patient. We're grounded for now, thanks to the weather," Tommy replied with a shrug.

"You've got time?" Evan asked, his voice a little too eager as his eyes darted around the busy ED. "I could probably make up some excuse with Bobby... We could grab coffee?"

Tommy raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Is my coffee going to have some milk this time?"

Evan gave him a sheepish grin, stepping closer until their shoulders nearly brushed. Without hesitation, he reached out and laced his fingers through Tommy's. "I promise, I'll grab some on the way home."

Home. Tommy felt that familiar flutter in his chest at the word again. Evan had started to throw it around more casually lately, and each time it hit Tommy in a way he wasn't quite used to. It made everything feel more real—not just some wishful daydream Tommy conjured up when his place felt too lonely with only him in it.

"Mhm, I have that in writing too," Tommy reminded him playfully, squeezing Evan's hand. "But, yeah, I've got time."

Just overhead, a loud roar of thunder echoed through the hospital, followed by a sharp crack of lightning that struck somewhere nearby. A moment later, the lights began to flicker and dim, casting the hall in an eerie, unstable glow. Instinctively, Tommy looked up at the ceiling, his grip on Evan's hand tightening ever so slightly.

"Great," Evan muttered, his gaze following Tommy's, as the lights struggled to stabilize. "Just what we needed—a power outage in the middle of all this."

"The generators should kick in any moment now," Tommy mumbled, more to himself than to Evan, his eyes still fixed on the flickering lights above. They stopped flickering.

When Tommy would look back at that moment, guilt-ridden as he replayed the events over and over in his mind, he would think of all the things he should have done. He should have grabbed Evan's hand and dragged him right out of the hospital, ignoring every instinct as a firefighter and instead said, "Screw it". He should have known, sensed it—should have put Evan first, before everything went sideways.

Except, he didn't.

When the shouts and screams erupted from a room somewhere to the side, Tommy didn't do any of those things. Instead, he frowned, shared a look with Evan, and stayed put by the nurse's station.

His mind went into a familiar mode: assess, analyze, act. The screams grew louder, panicked voices echoing off the sterile walls, but neither of them moved just yet. They were waiting, watching, gauging the situation. And then, there was no more time.

The next second, a commotion erupted from a nearby room. A shuffle broke out as one man pushed another through the door. Chaos spilled into the hallway. Tommy vaguely heard a nurse's voice shout, urgent:

"Security! Code silver! Active threat in the ED!"

And then a bang.

Tommy blinked against the brief, blinding flash of light that followed, and before he could process what was happening, a body hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Tommy froze. For a split second, everything around him blurred—the gunshots, the chaos, the sound of bodies hitting the ground. It was a moment he'd never fully forgive himself for. His feet were rooted to the floor as security rushed past them, but it didn't matter. The gun was still raised, and another shot rang out.

Another body hit the ground.

The shattering of glass, splintering into a million pieces, finally snapped him back to reality.

Evan was already moving, ripping his hand from Tommy's grip and dropping to the ground to check on the security guard who had fallen. Tommy's heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself into action, his mind racing to catch up as adrenaline surged through his veins.

A scuffle broke out, the chaos intensifying as some people scrambled to evacuate while few of the staff rushed to help the injured.

For a moment, Tommy lost sight of Evan, the blur of bodies clouding his vision. His heart lurched painfully in his chest, panic clawing at him as he scanned the area frantically, searching for that familiar figure amid the chaos.

He didn't see as the shooter grabbed someone in a choke-hold, with a gun raised to their head. His attention was set somewhere else.

"Evan!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the noise as he finally spotted him crouched. Relief surged through him, but it was short-lived. Just as Tommy moved to get to him, the shooter's attention snapped toward them.

The man's gaze locked onto Evan, and in that split second, Tommy's blood ran cold.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Evan exclaimed, raising his arms slowly, palms open. "We're firefighters! We can help!"

"No, no. Only one of you," he said finally, his voice shaky but determined as he waved the gun between the woman he was holding and their general direction.

Tommy's stomach dropped, a sense of dread settling in like ice in his veins. The shooter was barely in control, panicked and irrational, and every movement felt like it could tip things into disaster. This was spiraling, fast, and Tommy knew it was only going to get worse.

He was no stranger to guns. He'd grown up seeing them in his father's hands, the man recklessly firing off rounds in their backyard when temper mixed with alcohol took over. He'd seen guns in the military, had been trained with them, witnessed firsthand what they could do. He saw it almost daily in the gunshot victims he transported at the back of the chopper - too many lives torn apart by bullets. He had become desensitized to it, to the violence they brought.

If it was pointed at him, his pulse likely wouldn't even spike. His hands wouldn't shake.

But this was different.

Now, his pulse thundered in his ears, and his hands trembled with an intensity that terrified him, because the gun wasn't aimed at him. Instead it was dangerously close to pointing at the one person who meant everything to him— Evan.

The love of his life.

"Okay," Tommy finally managed to force out, though his voice wasn't quite steady. "What do you want?"

The man growled, his eyes wild and darting around the room. "How do I lock the doors?"

A nurse, her hands trembling, hurriedly pulled out a pair of keys from a drawer and held them out, showing them to the man. Tommy's heart sank; it meant their only exit was about to be cut off. The situation was rapidly closing in on them, both figuratively and literally.

But as the shooter's focus shifted toward the nurse, instructing her to do it, Tommy saw it—an opening, a brief moment of distraction.

Without thinking twice, he moved closer to Evan, subtly shifting his stance so he was positioned just enough to shield Evan from a clear shot, should the man spiral even further and snap.

He wasn't sure if Evan noticed the shift, and he didn't care. If something went wrong, he wasn't going to let Evan be the one in the line of fire. If he had to, he'd gladly take the hit first.

There was no universe, no reality in which he'd allow himself to be standing with his hands covered in Evan's blood today. Not ever.

"Tommy," Evan hissed quietly beside him.

Ah, so he did notice. But Tommy didn't dare glance at him, didn't risk looking into Evan's eyes and seeing the concern—or worse, the fear—there. There was too much at stake to get distracted, and Evan was his weak spot. Seeing those emotions would break his focus, distract him—and distractions could get them both killed.

"Hey, they can see where I... They're going to shoot me!" the shooter yelled, panic creeping into his voice.

'Yeah, no shit,' Tommy thought briefly, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. But he stayed silent.

"Hey, you!" The shooter's focus snapped back to them, and Tommy's shoulders tensed, his body instinctively shifting just a little more in front of Evan. "I have to cover the windows! What do I use?"

"I don't know." Tommy replied curtly, his voice clipped.

"How about- how about the sheets?" Tommy took a glance where he gestured toward one of the rooms "Alright, they have lots of those, right? Do it. Now."

Tommy's stomach twisted. He didn't have much choice, but still, he hesitated. His eyes flickered to Evan, who was still on the ground, kneeling next to the security guard as he tried to put pressure on the wound in the shoulder. Moving now would leave Evan completely exposed, utterly vulnerable.

If anything went wrong, if the shooter spiraled even further, Evan wouldn't stand a chance. Not even if he had the fastest reflexes in the world.

It would be an execution.

For a split second, Tommy's world shrunk, zeroing in on that one horrifying thought, the fear tightening its grip on his heart.

But the thought of that combined with Evan—his Evan—didn't compute in Tommy's mind. His brain outright refused to entertain the idea and his body locked up as if physically rejecting the command.

Whether the shooter noticed Tommy's hesitation or simply felt the walls closing in on him, he made a sudden move, shoving the woman he was holding toward Tommy and ordered her to help him.

Fuck.

Tommy finally moved, with a heavy heart, every step feeling like he was walking through a minefield that he might set off with one wrong step. His every instinct screamed at him to stay, to protect Evan, but he had no choice

It felt like betrayal, stepping away from Evan.

Almost like an out-of-body experience, Tommy moved mechanically, helping the woman as they covered the windows, sealing off any visibility into the room and sucking out all the oxygen.

The doctor with the first victim started to talk with the shooter, pulling his attention away. Tommy crept back to Evan, without taking his eyes off the shooter, Tommy squatted down beside Evan. His hand found Evan's instinctively—like it always did—and he squeezed it tightly. Whether it was to reassure Evan or to ground himself, he couldn't tell. Maybe both.

"Listen, I just want to get my girlfriend out of here. I don't want to hurt anybody else, but I will if you get in my way." The shooter's voice wavered as he spun around, his eyes wild and desperate. His gaze locked back onto them, and Tommy felt his muscles tense.

"Hey, you. Back where you were," the man barked, gesturing toward Tommy.

Tommy hesitated, his grip on Evan's hand tightening.

"It's okay. Go," Evan mumbled softly, when Tommy made no move. Tommy glanced down, eyes locking with Evan's for a brief moment, silently pleading for something. To tell him to stay? Maybe?

"Go," Evan repeated, more firmly this time, giving Tommy's hand a squeeze before letting go.

Tommy swallowed hard, his throat tight as he slowly stood, feeling the warmth of Evan's hand slip away. Taking a breath that felt too shallow, he stepped away, forcing his feet to move back to where the shooter had pointed.

Tommy's blood ran cold as the gun swung in Evan's direction, the finger on the trigger making his heart lurch painfully in his chest. The air in the room seemed to freeze.

"You!" the shooter barked, voice harsh and desperate. "Get those cuffs. Now."

Tommy's pulse roared in his ears, panic clawing at him, but he forced himself to stay still, forced himself to swallow the instinct to rush forward.

"Take it easy," Evan said, his voice steady despite the danger. He reached for the cuffs, holding them up for the shooter to see. "I'm getting them. Just... take it easy."

"Cuff him to that desk."

Tommy flinched as the cold metal of the cuff locked around his wrist. He glanced down, frowning in confusion. The metal bit into his skin, his arm instinctively tugging against it, testing for any give. But before he could react further, another click echoed in the air—Evan securing the second cuff to the desk.

Tommy's heart dropped.

And then he felt it—Evan's hand briefly wrapping around his forearm. The words that followed were barely a whisper, soft but devastating.

"I love you," Evan murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

A wave of panic and dread crashed over Tommy, his throat tightening painfully. He shook his head, eyes burning as he met Evan's gaze.

"Don't," Tommy choked out, his voice strained. Don't say it like that. Please.

Suddenly, a commotion broke out from one of the nearby rooms—the same one where the shooter had come from originally. The noise set the man off. He jerked in response, taking several threatening steps closer to them, his movements frantic and unpredictable.

And Tommy couldn't do a damn thing. He couldn't move, couldn't act—his wrist still cuffed to the desk, helpless to stop what was about to happen. He could only watch Evan, without hesitation, moved in front of him, his arm stretching out protectively, shielding Tommy with his own body.

Of course Evan did. Evan, who always wore his heart on his sleeve, who rushed headfirst into things without thinking it through. Evan, who seemed to believe it was his responsibility to protect everyone.

Tommy loved him.

Tommy would never forgive him for this. For being so fucking reckless. As if Tommy needed his protection more than he need him. As if he wasn't Tommy's entire world.

But then the shooter spun around, distracted, pacing erratically as he moved in and out of the room. He could feel Evan tense beside him, could see the wheels turning in his head. His hart seized with paralyzing fear.

"Evan," Tommy hissed, grabbing at his arm, his grip tight with desperation. "Don't. Don't do anything stupid."

Tommy would plead if he needed to. He'd drop to his knees and beg if it meant Evan would stand down. Because he knew Evan. Knew how his mind worked, how he was wired. Evan wasn't the type of man to stand by and do nothing. He wasn't someone who waited for the danger to pass; he ran into it.

And Tommy couldn't lose him. Not like this. Not now, not when they had just really started building their lives together. Not ever.

His grip tightened on Evan's arm, his fingers digging into his skin, until Evan had no choice but to look at him. Evan's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything. Didn't move. Not yet.

And Tommy clung to that sliver of hope like a lifeline. Even if he knew, deep down, that it was false.

For a fleeting moment, it was nice. Almost comforting.

It last all of a few minutes.

Because the next time the shooter passed by them, Evan, honest to God, lunged at the man.

Tommy's heart stopped.

"No!" Tommy's shout ripped from his throat before he even realized it.

The time stood still.

Tommy's eyes were wide open, unblinking, but it was as if he couldn't see. Maybe it was because Evan's back was turned to him, as he wrestled with the shooter for the gun. Maybe it was because Tommy's mind was too busy processing the raw sound of his own voice—hoarse and desperate��screaming as he pulled against the cuffs with every ounce of strength he had. Or maybe, he did see everything but his brain, in its cruel mercy, refused to let him process it.

It was too much. Too loud. Too fast.

Another bang erupted, deafening in the enclosed space, and Tommy's world stopped.

A body dropped to the floor.

The world tilted on its axis, and Tommy's breath hitched. His heart stopped for one agonizing second.

No. No.

Hands were suddenly on his face, trying to steady him, trying to make him focus. But Tommy couldn't. He flinched at the touch, his body trembling violently, too overwhelmed to respond. He shook his head, refusing to let the scene before him solidify into anything real.

He couldn't look. Couldn't force himself to look.

"Breathe, baby, breathe." Evan's voice cut through the haze, repeating the words like a mantra. "Breathe."

Tommy choked in a ragged breath, his chest tight and painful as the words slowly registered. He blinked, and slowly, too slowly, the world began to come back into focus. Evan was there, right in front of him, alive and breathing, with his hands still cupping Tommy's face, trying to steady him.

Tommy's hands instinctively reached out to touch him, to make sure he was real, even though there were specks of blood splattered across Evan's skin. But the cuffs yanked him back, cutting his reach short. A pitiful sound escaped him, more like a wounded animal than a man.

Evan did it for him, closing the gap, he wrapped himself around Tommy and buried his face in Tommy's neck. It took Tommy longer than it should have to wrap his free arm around Evan, to actually feel his warmth, his solid presence. To know he was really there.

"You're okay," Evan murmured into his neck, his breath warm against Tommy's skin. Soft lips pressed into his neck, bringing a flicker of warmth back into his cold, numb body. "We're okay."

"I hate you," Tommy whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking.

"No, you don't," Evan hummed back, his tone matter-of-fact.

Tommy let out a trembling choked out laugh, his body sagging. "No, I don't," he admitted quietly, finally squeezing Evan tighter.

There were so many things he wanted to say, things he needed to say. He will tell Evan how much he loved him. He will berate him for doing something so stupid, so dangerous. He will make sure Evan didn't leave his sight for days, maybe weeks.

But all that would come later. After his heart stopped racing like it was about to leap out of his chest. After his mind could fully register that Evan was here, alive, and okay.

Because there was an after.

[ ps: This was heavily inspired by an episode of Chicago Med, credit is where it's due]

#bucktommy #buck x tommy #tevan #kinkley #tevan fanfiction #tevan fic #tommy kinard #evan buckley #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic

147 notes · View notes

ribbonsncherries · 24 days ago

Text

The Contract

Warnings: Lots of smut, P in V, Oral (both m and f receiving), BDSM!, Sexual Assault, Stalking, Angst, Alcohol mentions, Dominant and submissive plot, Drug Mentions, Virgin user, mentions of drugs.

Chapter 3

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x inexperienced! User

Summary: When her roommate and work partner gets sick, she is in charge of interviewing famous billionaire businessman Dean Winchester for his new bar's grand opening which leads to a passionate and tumultuous affair where she discovers his dark sexual desires, marked by control and dominance. The one catch? He doesn't do romance.

Based on the trilogy Fifty Shades of Grey.

(4500 words)

Divider credits: @dollywons, @anitalenia, @selysie

The next morning, (y/n) woke up to the sun brushing through the curtains. The sounds of the city burst through the walls. She groaned in pain from the massive hangover that she was stuck with. She turned around in bed to see herself in a hotel room. She doesn’t know where she is, which immediately makes her panic. She sat up and brushed her hair away. She looked on the bedside table to see some Tylenol and orange juice waiting for her with the notes beside them that said “Eat me” and “Drink me.” She took the pill and began chugging the orange juice from wanting something more than alcohol in her system. While chugging the juice, she heard a keypad sound from a short distance, almost as if someone was trying to get in. She got up from the bed and grabbed a vase. Lo and behold, Dean Winchester shows up with takeout boxes in his hand in a casual black tee and jeans. “Good morning (y/n).” He said casually. “It’s you? she asked, still holding the vase. He approached her slowly, “Surprised?” he said with a smirk, “How are you feeling?” He asked, his hand wrapped around her wrist. He brought down the arm that had the expensive vase. “What..?” she responded, still confused and intimidated by how close he was to her. She had to look up at him from how tall he was, his broad shoulders seemed to look down upon her.

“I asked how you’re feelin’ sweetheart,” he asked once more. (y/n) nodded, “A lot better thanks…” She carefully snuck past him and sat down on the bed; she realized her clothes were much different, Her clothes she was wearing yesterday were carefully folded on a chair. She looked down again and saw she was wearing a regular white shirt that was a little too big for her, and when she realized she had no pants, she immediately covered herself with the sheets. “Did you put me in here?” she asked, looking around towards him. She saw him with the takeout box and fork; he started chewing on some bacon and eggs. “Mm-hmm.” he hummed. Dean sat down on a small sofa next to the bed, he began taking a clean fork and put down some toast and eggs on a new plate. “And you undressed me?” she asked confused.

Dean looked up at her while still chewing, “Didn’t have much of a choice, darlin’ it was either that or puke-stained jeans and shirt.” he said. (y/n) immediately had her hands over her mouth in shock. “Oh my god…” she mumbled to herself. Dean then got up from the sofa and carried a plate to her; he placed it on her covered lap, along with a fork and napkins. He sat down on the sofa and continued eating like nothing. (y/n) looked around the hotel room and saw she was in the only bed, and the sofa he was on was way too small to fit anyone. “Where did you sleep?” she asked. Dean gestured his hand next to her; she saw a messy side next to her with the blankets messed up. “Oh god did we…?” she trailed along. Dean immediately shook his head,

“No, Necrophillia's not my thing,” he said immediately. (y/n) took a deep breath, “So we just slept…got it.” (y/n) awkwardly saw the plate of toast and eggs on her lap and picked up the toast Dean got up and went to a different room, he came back a few seconds later with a fresh clean folded clothes, “I asked Benny to bring you some new clothes,” he stated putting them next to her on the bed. “Thank you, you didn’t really have to do that,” she said quietly. She continued eating her toast slowly with a slight hesitation. “I did, you shouldn’t have drank like that in the first place,” he grumbled. Dean began drinking his cup of orange juice when some had spilled onto his shirt. “Shit,” he mumbled, he took off his black shirt leaving (y/n) a whole view of his chiseled toned chest with a unique tattoo. “W-well, I like to test my limits when it comes to alcohol,” she said chewing on her toast.

His eyes roamed at her with a grumble, “Test your limits…you put yourself at risk last night.” He said. He began to place his hands on the bed and began slowly making his way toward her, almost like a lion reaching for a lamb. “I know…” (y/n) said softly, mesmerized by Dean, she couldn’t move or get away, it was like she was trapped. Softly in a low tone, he said, “If you were mine, you would be able to move from the bed, let alone walk…” he got closer and closer to her. “Huh?” she said quietly, not knowing what to say. Dean leaned lower to her hand and bit the rest of the toast off, he looked up at her and held her hand, then began sucking the powder off her fingers slowly. Her breath hitched, and she immediately tried hiding the fact her thighs were clenched together.

He looked down at her with his piercing green eyes. “I’m gonna go take a nice shower, don’t wait up,” he said before getting up from the bed and gathering his clothes. (y/n) let out a long breath before turning her head towards him. “Dean, why did you bring me here?” she asked. He came out of the other room and looked at her, “You’re here because I’m incapable of leaving you alone.” she looked up at him up and down, “Then don’t…you didn’t want me with you anyways, why did you send me that album and shawl anyways? Pity or something?” she asked. Dean came closer to her “I thought because of the way I acted towards you I owed you an apology.”

“For what,” she stated. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her. “For letting you believe that…” he took a deep breath. “Listen, I don’t do romance, I don’t do the hand holding, movies, dinner.” “Why?” she questioned. “My tastes are very particular; you wouldn’t understand if I told you,” he said. “Try me. Enlighten me for all I care,” was all she could say. Dean brushed his rough hand on her cheek and then to her lips. Her eyes try to mimic the stare he gives him.

After a few hours, Dean had already showered and was in fresh, new, casual clothes. (y/n) came out of the bathroom in the clothing that Benny had picked out. “Tell your friend he’s got good taste,” she said. She looked forward to seeing Dean writing some stuff down in his notebook. (y/n) gathered her clothes while Dean stood up and leaned on the desk. “What are you doing later, darlin’?” he asked. “Well, I have to go to my job till either 8 or 9, but besides that, nothing. Why?” she asked. Dean could only look her up and down. “I’ll have Benny pick you up,” he said. He came a little closer to her and softly touched her hair down to her lips. “The way I kill a million monsters to be able to kiss those lips,” he said. (y/n) looked up and stood still “I think I would like that too.” she said softly. Dean backed his hand away “I’m not going to touch you…at least not until I have your written consent.” he said. She tilted her head (y/n). “Written?” she asked, confused. “I’ll explain later, cmon let's get you home,” he said to her.

As they both got on the elevator, (y/n) backed up to the back of the elevator while Dean stood beside her, “fuck the contract.” he said before immediately beginning to roughly kiss (y/n). Her hands were on his shoulders, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her while his other hand was down to her waist. Just as (y/n) was about to softly release a moan, the ting of the elevator alerted them. They both got away from each other and acted like nothing happened. (y/n) released a few short breaths and calmly combed her hair with her fingers before the door opened to businessmen. Dean looked down at her and smirked.

When (y/n) and Dean got to her apartment, (y/n) heard music coming from inside. As she opened the door, they both widened their eyes to see Sam and Jessica halfway naked on the couch. Sam and Jessica immediately looked up from the couch. (y/n) turned her head to look away. “Samuel you dog, he had a good time last night. Clearly.” Dean said to (y/n), who was still looking away. “Dean shut it,” Sam said, picking up his pants. Jessica laughed as she looked at the situation. “Hey, you must be (y/n),” Sam said, holding his hand for (y/n) to shake. She awkwardly shook it “Nice to meet you.” she said. “Yeah, sorry for meeting me like this. I got a little sidetracked,” he said looking over at Jessica. (y/n) smiled “Oh no, it’s ok.”

“Sammy, find your shoes, and let's get goin'.” Sam and Jessica had one more goodbye kiss before telling her, “Later, darlin’.” Sam then walked away from her to leave the apartment. “I’ll make sure to email you if anything comes up. You can also email me whenever you want to. I’ll see you tonight,” Dean said. (y/n) took a deep breath “My computer is acting weird; I can’t use it.” she said. “Alright, you have my number. Call me whenever you can. Later, darlin’,” he said, mimicking Sam, he then left the apartment and closed the door. “So Sam seems like a nice guy.” (y/n) giggled.

“Nooo, don’t even start with that. If you’re seeing him again that means something must’ve happened.” Jessica teased. (y/n) could only sigh and walk slowly to her room tossing her house keys to the small bowl where Jessica’s were. “(y/n) you have to tell me what happened!” She squealed. “We have to get ready for work Jess!” she ignored the questions and kept going. “No, no, no, (y/n), I’m your best friend even if it’s TMI, just spill.” she encouraged. (y/n) smiled “You really wanna know?” Jessica nodded excitedly expecting (y/n) to say they had sex when in reality she said “We just kissed.” She nodded expecting more to come out of her. “Uh huh and then.”

“And then what? That was it,” she said. “That’s it?! Only once?! That's super weird.” (y/n) could only hum a yes. She began walking down the small hallway, “And I can tell that’s a new shirt, You never dress in those colors.” she said.

(y/n) was typing away once again, focusing sternly on her computer, Jenna her secretary came in with a smile. “Hey (y/n), I made some lunch for myself last night and accidentally made too much. Thought you might want some, it’s your favorite.” she smiled. (y/n) took the container from her hands. “Thanks, Jen.” Before Jenna was about to leave she remembered something, “Oh I almost forgot your mom sent messages.” Jenna began going through the small sheets of paper. “She said ‘(y/n) I hope you’re doing well, Richard and I miss you and we came to tell you that Flora is graduating middle school in June and we would like you to come to the graduation party. Hugs and Kisses Mom and Richard.” (y/n)’s face scrunched, “As much as I love Flora’m not sure how to feel about the step monster” she giggled.

Jenna looked at her with her eyebrow up. “(y/n) I’m saying this as a friend, man up, I get it Richard kicked you out and your mom never defended you but your sister is 13, she needs her older sister, especially at that age, facetime, and text messaging isn’t enough. Besides you’re a badass editor and journalist for the biggest fashion magazine in the nation.” (y/n) smirked and nodded, “You’re right, I just hated that guy with every bone in my body since I was 16.” she said. “Any other messages Jen?” she asked. “Yes, another from Mr. Winchester.” (y/n)’s eyes widened as she got up, closed the door to her office, and dragged Jenna to her desk to sit down. “What did he say?” she asked. Jenna still a little surprised gave (y/n) the paper to which he wrote down the message.

Hello, Ms. (l/n). I wanted to follow up regarding the agenda we discussed during our last meeting. As we agreed, it’s crucial to ensure we stay on track with the upcoming deliverables. I’ve attached the updated project plan, which includes all the necessary timelines and responsibilities.

Let me know if there’s anything else you need from my side before we proceed.

Best regards, Dean Winchester.

“Everything ok (y/n)?” asked Jenna. “Me? Oh yeah yeah, I’m fine. Is that all the messages?” she asked. Jenna nodded rapidly and got up from the chair to the door, “Thanks for lunch by the way.” (y/n) said. “Anytime.” (y/n) looked at the small sheet of paper and smiled.

When she got out of work, Benny was standing next to a black car with tinted windows. (y/n) smiled and walked up to him, “Hi, Benny. Where’s Dean?” she asked. “He will be meeting us at your destination,” he said as he opened the car door. She climbed inside before saying thank you. As they made their way to a corporate office building Benny helped her out as he led her to an elevator. (y/n) ran her fingers through her hair in nervousness. As they reached the top her eyes widened when she saw a helicopter but no Dean. “I thought he was meeting us at our destination.” asked (y/n). As they began walking towards the helicopter Benny leaned a little to her ear and whispered “Don’t tell him I said this but Mr. Winchester is a bit of a wimp when it comes to flying.” He said. (y/n) looked up to him and smirked. “Do you know where I’m going?” she asked him. “You’ll see.” he sighed. (y/n) was being helped by the pilot to buckle in and adjust the headset on her head.

As they flew she was amazed by the sights of the city. The beautiful lights and buildings that look like they are coming up at her. When they landed there he was, Dean, was wearing a casual-looking tux with a white dress shirt with a regular black blazer. When the Helicopter had stopped the engine Dean went up to the doors and saw (y/n) coming down the helicopter, he took her hand as he led her downstairs.

She walked down a dim hallway into a penthouse. Her steps are the only sound echoing along the room. Dean separated from her and went to a wine cellar only a few meters away. (y/n) curiously let herself wander around. She saw rows of guitars, some electric, and lots of acoustic. She ran her fingers softly along the strings. “You play a lot?” she asked turning towards him, he had wine glasses and a bottle of a newly unopened wine. “Yes, I’ve been playing for as long as I can remember,” he said. He placed the two wine glasses down on a glass table. But when she saw him opening and pouring the wine, there were sheets of paper gathered in a single spot on the table, curiosity took over and she came up to him slowly. “What’s this?” she asked. “It’s a nondisclosure agreement,” he said as he finished pouring the wine and sat down next to her at the head of the table. “To summarize it that means you can’t tell anyone anything about us. To anyone.” (y/n) looked up at him as she clicked the pen. “I don’t say anything other than ‘he was alright.” Her eyes looked into his for a quick moment before the sounds of the pen scratching the paper were lilting to their ears. She set the pen down and looked at him “What now..?” she asked softly.

She was still nervous, afraid to say something wrong that might upset him and kick her out. He leaned forward towards her and told her “Two things, I don’t make love…second I make pleasure, I fuck hard and rough to a point you won’t know your name and can only scream out mine.” she swallowed and let out a soft breath, all she could do was nod and look at him. He got up from the seat and offered his hand for her to take. “I’ll show you,” he said. (y/n) looked at his hand for a quick moment before taking it. He led her down the long hallway before stopping at a door. He looks at her and says “It’s important to know you can leave at any time and the both of will never talk of this again.” He said. (y/n) was confused for a moment, “What’s in there?” she asked. “I said I control people, I like it when people do my bidding, what's beyond here, lies upon that statement. Just know the helicopter is on standby to take you whenever you want to go.”

“I can handle it, Dean open the door,” she said sternly. Dean looked into her eyes for a quick moment making sure she was serious, he took a deep breath before inserting a key into the door and turning it for the door to unlock. When he opened the door and stepped inside she was surrounded by darkness before he turned on the lights. The room was red and dim like his bars but inside lay toys..sex toys. “Oh my god,” she said under her breath. There wasn’t your typical dildo or vibrator. More like whips, buckles, and handcuffs, As she began walking around her eyes ran along the red room, or ‘playroom’ as Dean likes to call it. “Please, say something,” Dean said. She stopped at a row of whips lined along the wall. “Do women do this to you or-”

“No, I do this to women,” he said in a low tone voice, “with women, women who want me to.” he clarified. She started making her way around as he followed right behind her. “So what are you?” she asked turning to him curiously. “I’m a dominant,” he said. “What does that even mean?” she asked.

“It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me, and follow everything I say, to please me,” he said. (y/n) scoffed in shock, “To please you? Are there rules for this or something?” she said sarcastically, her smile dropped when she saw Dean’s seriousness on his face. “There are rules. If you follow them I’ll reward you, if you don’t you get punished. Simple as that sweetheart.” he said. “So, you’ll punish me, with these?” she asked. Dean simply nodded “Yes.’’

She looked around for one more moment, “So what’s in it for me?” she asked. Dean smiled at her with a grin. “Me,” he said in a low rumble tone. As they got out of the room (y/n) was still concerned yet somehow excited. Dean took her hand as he led her to the back of the hallway he opened another door to a room with a queen-sized bed, a vanity, and a huge window. But she stopped at the record player sitting on the bedside table, it resembled the one her mother broke on purpose since it used to be her dad’s. “Now, if we were to do this…this would be your room, you can decorate it however you like.” She crossed her arms and looked at him “So..you want me to move in with you?” she asked.

Dean shook his head “No, not full-time, only Friday through Sunday. We can negotiate the particulars. You know I don’t sleep with anyone, So I won’t sleep with you, I’ll only be down the hall.” he said. He took her hand in his once more and led her downstairs back to the living room where they sat on a couch. “So what if I decide to back out?” she asked. “I would understand it completely, but as I said, we will never speak of this to anyone ever.” (y/n) looked at him and observed his face before looking back to his eyes, “And…we won’t talk to each other again?” she asked. “No, I don’t do relationships, I told you…It’s just the way I am,” he said. Dean sighed as he looked back at her “I have a contract prepared, it’s all in there, you would review it and we negotiate from there.” he said.

“Well, what if I’m not sure what to pick?”

“Well, was there a time you had sex with someone and there was anything that you didn’t like doing?” he asked. She could only clear her throat and looked away. “We have to be honest princess for this to work,” he said. For years (y/n) was a bit embarrassing for her to say she was a virgin. She's done stuff to herself and masturbated a few times but that was it. She's never had time for love and relationship until now. “Well, it’s a bit complicated cause…I” Dean tilted his head in curiosity. “Cause what?” She looked at him once more and said “I haven’t done..it.” she mumbled. Dean was taken aback, “You’re still a virgin?” I just showed you-”

“I know. I just, I’ve..done some stuff just not that,” she said. Dean leaned in closer to her and took her cheek with his hand. “Men must throw themselves at you, sweetheart,” he said roughly. She looked into his eyes and all she could see was lust. “No one caught my eye,” she responded. Dean leaned forward and kissed her. She had no hesitation to kiss back, Before she knew it Dean helped her up and walked her to his room, “Where are we going?” she asked.

“We are going to fix this problem.”

“I’m a problem?”

He led her to a dark room, it was a regular bedroom, and no sign of the toys in sight. Dean’s hands slowly caressed her body, the lower she went the more he started bending down. His fingers unraveled the buttons on her jeans and brought them down slowly to show her lace panties. He kissed her thighs one at a time, the more he kissed her the closer he got to her wet core. He stood up and slowly lowered her down to sit on the edge of the bed. (y/n) looked up at him as he was doing the work, His fingers looped around the seam of her shirt pulling it up to take it off. As they kissed once more Dean moved his fingers to her back to unclasp her bra that was trapping her breasts underneath the white lace. He pulled the bra forward to take it off her, with her, her breasts now spilled out for him to see. He growled under his breath when he saw them, He leaned into the crook of her neck kissing and nipping at her neck, and (y/n) moved her head away for more access to skin. She moaned at the sensation of him kissing her sweet spot. He backed away and slowly pushed her down to the bed. She lay on the bed as Dean kissed her inner thigh and kissed her cloth-covered puss, his hands running up and down her thighs.

She moaned out his name softly and tilted her head back as she closed her eyes. Dean stood up and removed his shirt showing her once more his chest. He took off his pants and boxers and climbed onto the bed on top of her. He kissed her once more as his hands traced down to the valley of her breasts, to her stomach, then to the edge of her panties. He slowly took them off her and threw them to the floor where their clothes were lying. His hand went up her waist and cupped her breast slowly teasing her nipple. He leaned closer to her, trapping her against him and the mattress, his cock was running along her wet folds and finally, he pushed himself inside her. He let out a sharp gasp from the pain of his thick cock stretching her out. But she couldn’t help herself, she wanted more. Her hands went to his shoulders but he quickly took them off and pinned her hands above her. The sounds of sex were filling the room, “C’mon sweetheart you can take it.” he groaned out. Her back arched in pleasure and the new sensation she was so desperate for. Dean began sliding in and out of her pussy filling the room with squelching sounds from her pussy making contact with him balls deep. “So fucking good f’me.” His hands began tightening around her wrists which were still above her. He began going a little faster which made her tits bounce and her moaning rapidly.

His tip was hitting her g-spot just right she felt a knot in her stomach wanting to unravel. She could feel his cock twitching inside her as he felt her walls tighten. As her orgasm finally let go, liquid came out of her like a faucet. He let go of her wrists before pulling out to spill his cum all over her stomach. His neck leaned back in pleasure before looking down at (y/n) who was panting. He leaned down once more and kissed her softly. “You ok sweetheart?” he asked. She looked at him and nodded. He quickly got up and grabbed a wet towel, cleaning her stomach and her thighs. Quickly she fell asleep.

She was awoken by the strumming of a guitar. (y/n) looked to her side to see no one but unraveled blankets and sheets. She grabbed a blanket and covered herself before heading outside to see where the music was coming from. She took a peek and saw Dean who was only in sweats strumming a guitar in the middle of the night. (y/n) came up behind him and kissed his neck slowly before going up to his jaw. Dean smirked putting down the guitar and taking off the blanket. He led her to his lap where his hands went up and down her body, he kissed her roughly before picking her up and fucking her once more. The sounds of moans and yelling out his name were all they heard for the next hour before they both fell asleep.

Taglist: @applelovesposts @ladykitana90 @cevansbaby-dove

A/N: @steviespookie here damn don't chop chop me. (Im jk ilysm!) ok for once I focused on my school work instead of writing this so that's why it came out a little late today. But yay it's done, I'm already starting for the next chapters ahead so I can just post and write. The comments thoughhh omg yall are so sweet you're making me kick my legs. Hope you guys are staying safe and thank you for the notes and reblogs, and to more followers hello your first a/n on my blog! also if you have some advice on how to spice up my smut scenes PLZZZ LET ME KNOW. other than that thanks for reading and I'll see you guys next week!

96 notes · View notes

a-bottle-of-tyelenol · 23 days ago

Text

agere bakugou katsuki headcanons !!

— requested by @v4mpiirew1tch —

— cw: trauma and swearing —

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

💥 - usually regresses to be about four years old since that’s when his quirk came in, but katsuki has a massive range of ages that he fluctuates between with a lot of overlap in behaviors. like sometimes he’ll be in an older headspace but still need a pacifier to self-sooth or he’ll be in a younger headspace and still wanting to engage with his older interests (I also love the headcanon people have where he pretends to be older than he is!! Chefs kiss to whoever came up with that one). if we’re being honest, he’s likely on the scale of being a perma-regressor but he can barely handle the fact that he regresses at all so no one really brings that up.

💥 - very prone to tantrums and meltdowns. his nervous system is chronically dysregulated and he really struggles getting a handle on his emotions. he’s either feeling things too strongly or not strongly enough and the former usually occurs in tandem with his rocky headspace. he tries really hard to be good but he just struggles when he’s on his own and it’s really helpful to have a caregiver sitting with him and helping him regulate. more often than not, it helps for him to physically move (running, breaking things, ect) so sometimes his caregivers just send him off to break down boxes or run around a training field or whatever other busy work they can give him that gets out his energy. when he’s alone and upset, however, he just shuts himself away in his room and rocks back and forth in the dark until all the bad feelings go away (autistic bakugou my beloved <3).

💥 - he likes learning when he’s small!! his favorite activity is any kind of early language assignment meant for young kids because it helps him feel young while also being productive use of his time. he gets antsy if he’s too bored, though, so he has to constantly be switching what types of work sheets he’s doing or even what subject it is. he also likes those educational kids cartoons but he’s banned from watching any that ask the audience for answers (think like dora the explorer) because he’d get too rowdy with it. there is only so many times you can hear a toddler yelling “FUCK YEAH” from the living room because they knew the answer to a basic math question.

💥 - he hates wearing his hearing aids when he’s small because it can be overwhelming and overstimulating (whereas he refuses not to wear them when he’s feeling older because he hates feeling different or like he’s missing something). when he’s especially young, he’ll do baby babble in sign language which sometimes turns to babble signing basic words for what he wants and you just have to hope you understand him. if you don’t, he WILL cry about it.

💥 - aizawa has a sticker chart for his behavior, particularly in the classroom, where he gets to pick the stickers when he’s good and aizawa picks the stickers when he’s misbehaving. it sounds low stakes but aizawa has ZERO sympathy for little boys that break the rules and consistently uses terrible bootleg all might stickers that irritate katsuki in how ugly and inaccurate they are. katsuki is extremely competitive and there is nothing he won’t do to win against aizawa and have a chart full of REAL and AUTHENTIC all might stickers. he’d rather riot against the school than allow for such a travesty. in general, katsuki makes it his life’s mission to make aizawa’s life hell (but in the most baby-fied way possible) and aizawa matches that energy every single time. everyone finds aizawa’s beef with a baby very funny and aizawa mostly puts up with it because he likes knowing that katsuki trusts him enough to misbehave like an actual child after years of perfectionism and volatility.

💥 - he really likes bears and tigers. that’s it. that’s the tweet. he has teddy bears and tiger plushies and he loves when you point out that his black and orange color scheme is similar to a tiger’s. he WILL get pissed if someone says that lions are the king of the jungle because it’s actually the tiger. he isn’t big on pet names but he doesn’t mind being called cub or bear specifically because of how much he likes tigers and bears. except koala bears— he hates those.

💥 - a lot of his regression is trauma related and he usually slides down to his younger ages when he’s triggered. he has a lot of nightmares too so he often wakes up crying and feeling really small. there’s an open door policy for any of his caregivers (I usually imagine aizawa, midoriya, or kirishima) that lets him waddle into any of their rooms to snuggle up with them if he’s having a particularly bad night. in general, he has a couple code words that he can text people (assuming he isn’t actively melting down) for when he’s regressing and needs help.

#I have more angsty headcanons but they involve his mom so 🫡 perhaps I’ll do another post #my post #my headcanons #agere #mha #mha agere #age regression #agere headcanons #agere fandom #agere community #my hero academia #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou

77 notes · View notes

rottingcorps3s · 9 months ago

Text

god i’m obsessed with men eating box. sue me.

konig is ravenous for some putang. little bit of mean!konig, but not too bad. overstim. mention of bruises. siiiizzeee kink bby.

this was not proofread. who has the time? ENJOY!

i see konig as someone who isn’t fully aware of how strong he actually is to a normal person. like yeah, he obviously knows he’s big and strong, but thats when he’s being compared to other military personnel. it becomes evident once you enter the picture. he doesn’t mean for it to happen. you’re just so fragile and…sensitive in so many ways.

once you guys were ‘official’ is when it started. konig had always been respectful of your space and your body. having never gone out of his way to seek physical contact unless you initiated it first. it was like a light switch had been turned on, day to night within weeks.

his hands were constantly on you in one way or another. first off, his hands are MASSIVE. no matter who you are or what size you may be, his hands will always dwarf your own. he was rough, unintentionally…mostly. the finger print bruises on your hips, your ankles, your ass; the hickeys that littered just below the neck of the shirt you wore. juuuussstttt barely out of sight.

it had started in a play fight, one you had initiated and frankly, weren’t prepared for. konig had just come back from the gym, adrenaline and testosterone still coursing through his veins. he just looked sooooooo good…irresistible, really. sweaty and slightly out of breath from his run back. he b-lined straight for you, like he always did when he arrived home. he yearned for his ‘welcome home’ kiss.

his arms encircled around your waist, his neck craning down to collect what was rightfully his. his eyes flashed with disappointment when his lips made contact with something other than your lips. he thought maybe he had accidentally missed your lips, but when he tried again and was met with your forehead, he pulled back. a shit-eating grin spread across your face.

“fucking kiss me.” he’d demand, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. you had yet to say anything, only offering a quick ‘no’, smile still on your lips. before he had a chance to retaliate, you were gone. running down the hall and disappearing.

he was on you within seconds, he was a professional after all. you had just made it thru the doorway of your shared room, konig grabbed you by your arm, his leg kicking the door closed behind him. he spun you around to face him. his hands now holding both of your biceps, his fingers digging into your soft skin. definitely leaving behind a trail of bruises.

you squealed in pain from his tight grip, “ow! konig you’re hurting me!” you whined, a small pout on your soft lips. his eyes held a dark stare, your small protest not affecting him in the slightest. you’d played the same card in the past, faking being hurt to get him to knock his guard down before you’d strike. he had you this time.

“ooooohhh, schatz…” he said in a fake tone, almost as if he were mocking you, “i’m sooooo sorry…” he apologized, his grip on you loosening slightly, but not all the way. he could see the excitement in your eyes, thinking you had him wrapped around your finger again. “let me make it up to you…” he said, a wicked smile threatening to appear. you only nodded, smiling sweetly at him.

you know what they say about men with big hands…

big tongues 0_0

anyway…

just the thought of the big…hot…wet appendage toying with your clit for hours…oh brother. and it would be hooooouuuurrrrsssszzz (yes with a z).

he’d pull you by your ankles to the edge of the bed. completely towering over you as he worked on getting your shorts off. which was easy enough considering he was able to maneuver your body in ways no one ever had. your thighs would sit comfortably on either side of his shoulders, his arms wrapped around the backs of your legs, holding them tightly in place as his tongue made its first assault.

your thighs would tremble from the sudden stimulation. broken curses falling from your lips as his tongue would flick your clit back and forth, unrelenting. tears would prick your eyes as your first orgasm approached at the speed of light.

“ko-n-ig,” you pleaded desperately, your fingernails digging into his scalp to try and push him back to relieve some of the pressure. he was as still as a statue and as strong as a bull. his grip around your thighs only tightened.

the pleasure was overwhelming, washing over you like a giant wave, boarding on painful as his pace didn’t falter. tears had now begun streaming down your cheeks. so soft and sweet…one of konig’s favorite spots to kiss…

he didn’t stop, no matter how much you tried to beg and plead your case…i mean he did warn you that he was going to make it up to you…you just never asked how.

only after you had your third orgasm did he stop, his grip on you finally relaxing, his face pulling away from your wet cunt. his face dripped with saliva and cum. his breathing was labored. similar to how he walked into the house earlier, the only difference being his pupils that was blown out to the size of saucers.

oh and the cum on his face.

Oh my gawd i had to force myself to stop writing 😔 would’ve been here for hours.

#call of duty #cod modern warfare #modern warefare 2 #cod konig #smut #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig smut

231 notes · View notes

reallyhatethiswebsite · 6 months ago

Text

for @ra1denov1tch raphtav knotting, afab tiefling tav using they/them (first time writing knotting can you tell 🫣)

Read on AO3

“Such a wonderful, devoted little mouse,” Raphael purred. Smoothed his palms over their back, touching the bumps and ridges of their stunted infernal heritage. The spots of bunched skin that once might have been wings were especially sensitive, but Raphael did not linger there. He lightly dragged his claws down their spine, snatching their tail in a big paw. It had been swaying to-and-fro, a signal of their arousal and excitement. The devil didn’t let them wrap it around his wrist; instead he rubbed the fragile skin of the tail’s underside with intent.

“Nngh,” groaned Tav, fingers clenching the red silk sheets. Bubbly pleasure sparked from their tail’s base to the tips of their horns, coiling in their belly. Raphael chuckled.

“Does that feel nice, my sweet pet?” He spoke patronisingly, as though Tav were a puppy receiving a treat.

“Yes,” the tiefling breathed, gasping when Raphael’s grip tightened. “Ah! Yes, master…”

“That’s better,” the master rumbled, “after all, it wouldn’t do for you to forget your place, would it?”

As if they could. On all fours, baring themselves to their devil on his own bed. He loomed over them in his massive cambion form, devouring them in his mighty shadow, his presence. There was no doubt who belonged where. Tav wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Never,” they swore.

“Good,” said Raphael, approval and dark amusement in his tone. “Good pet.”

Tav couldn’t help the way they shuddered, a desperate, yawning ache in their cunt for him, for his cock, the only thing that satisfied them. Raphael laughed at them, a little cruel and a little pleased. He stroked their tail once more, its full length this time. Then the mattress dipped with his weight as he settled behind them. The heat his naked body gave off was intense. He surrounded Tav, but he didn’t mount them yet. He cupped their backside, spread their cheeks so he could hungrily stare at their sex, slick and flushed. Tav hung their head, fighting not to squirm, to just let him look.

“Sublime,” he said, swirling two fingertips between Tav’s hot velvety folds, deliberately ignoring their clit, and they knew better than to chase his touch. Push too much and he would pull away, laughing as he did so. “Wet and ready for me at a moment’s notice…I’m tempted to ask if you’re embarrassed, but we both know you don’t have any shame. I enjoy that about you, you know. Your sin is delicious. Just like your pretty quim.” He punctuated his words by sucking his fingers clean. Hummed when Tav’s taste hit. A sharp thrill of desire had Tav gripping the sheets again. They were going to rip them at this rate.

“Raphael,” they whined, “please…”

“Oh, yes,” growled the devil, “beg me. Beg me for salvation from your delightful suffering. Salvation only I can offer.”

He grabbed Tav’s hips, squeezing hard. When he pressed himself closer, Tav felt his leaking erection rub against their ass, the small of their back. His thick, ribbed thighs boxed them in. His serpentine tail encircled their calf, coaxing their legs to spread wider. The places where their bodies touched grew damp with sweat.

“Please. Please, Raphael,” begged Tav.

“Please what?” Raphael’s long forked tongue licked up a salty drop on the back of Tav’s neck before it could drip down or disappear into their hair. “Mmm…almost as sweet as your tears.”

“Please…” Tav knew what he wanted to hear. The devil was right; they had no shame. They rolled their hips, rutting against him. It was easier when they couldn’t see the smug satisfaction on his face. “Take me, fuck me, use me…anything.”

“Ah…how could I refuse you, when you’re so desperate?” Though he was amused, there was a tightness in Raphael’s voice that suggested he wasn’t unaffected, either. His claws dug welts into Tav’s flesh from the strength of his grip. They’d have bruises tomorrow. Bruises they would relish. “As you wish, little mouse.”

The blunt, flared tip of his cock, its tiny slit oozing precum, nudged through their slippery mons, bumped their clit, before snagging on their weeping entrance. Raphael pushed inside them slow, steady, both to tease them and to savour the first breach of their tight, hot cunt; held Tav still when they pushed back, tried to hasten him. He was in control. Tav could only bury their face in the sheets and gasp as their devil leisurely filled them with his thick hellish length, relishing every tug of soft fleshy barbs and ridges. That gasp became a muffled squeal when Raphael abruptly snapped his hips, his cockhead kissing the opening of their cervix as he sheathed himself to his infernal hilt. He grabbed one of their horns and yanked their head up, making Tav cry out.

“Let me hear you,” he commanded. “Every scream, every whimper. You will not deny me.”

He gave them little time to adjust, fisting their hair, his rhythm indulgent and brutal and selfish. When he was balls-deep, Tav’s cunt clenching and milking his hard cock for everything it was worth, was when Raphael’s true fiendish nature often came out to play. His voice got deeper, raspier, a little less human as his fastidious facade crumbled, as he surrendered to his baser instincts. He was vicious, unforgiving, ravenous and focused in his sexual appetite. These were the moments Tav lived for. Tieflings could experience fractions of this fucking frenzy, but cambions, being so much closer to full devils, were on a different level. Since they’d first taken Raphael’s cock, been split open and unapologetically fucked raw by him, nothing else could ever scratch the itch for Tav again, and of course, the devil knew it. Took advantage of it. Revelled in it. He squashed their bodies together, hunched completely over Tav, so that he could bite their pointed ears and snarl filth into them. His other hand moved from their hip to their abdomen, flattening and pressing the tender yielding flesh. He wanted to feel himself fucking into them. Ruining them.

“You are mine,” he hissed, barely audible over the obscene sounds of sweat-slick skin and cum-slick sexes slapping together, Tav’s mewls and squeaks and sighs, and Raphael’s own grunts and harsh, ragged breathing. “No one can satisfy you the way I can. No one feeds your twisted lust the way I do. No other cock feels as good inside you as mine. Does it?”

“N-no, oh fuck,” Tav choked. Wracked with a violent, all-consuming, shuddering orgasm that thrashed the tail, bared the teeth and curled the toes and fingers. Those sheets were absolutely shredded. “Fuck, Raphael!”

“So tight,” snarled the devil as he began to unravel, his thrusts fast and sloppy, ignorant and uncaring that Tav was coming, that they were overstimulated, that they wept and writhed and cried out to him. He feasted on their pleasure and their suffering in equal measure. His wings spread, surrounding them. Everything was Raphael. Raphael, whose balls were swollen and yearning to empty, his leaking cock stiffening further inside Tav, and…

Something else nudged their entrance. Fat, firm, about the size of a fist – his fist, not theirs. Working its way up the devil’s prick. Tav’s breath hitched, their thoughts blanking. They knew what it was. His knot. Another special little gift of his biology. One that only showed itself if he was especially worked up.

“Oh, Gods,” Tav whimpered. They were already so full, so sensitive. “It won’t fit, I…I can’t take it…”

“Yes you can,” uttered Raphael, merciless, and that was that.

A low, indulgent groan that became a deep sigh and the devil reached his peak, his knot squeezing itself into Tav’s cunt with a squelching pop. It hurt, but only for a moment. The stretching agony melted into ecstasy and Tav trembled as they came for the second time, stuffed with the devil’s thick squishy knot as his potent release – so damn hot, like liquid fire that somehow didn’t burn – spurted inside them over and over. They knew they’d be staying that way for quite some time, plugged up and full of cum, their devil purring monstrously on top of them. And that was alright.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #fanfic #cringe #bg3

96 notes · View notes

imagionationstation · 1 month ago

Note

Whats your opinion of the Rise community’s impression of 2012 splinter? For me I think he’s a very nice guy just unprepared like bro just got shoved four children

Uh this was random

I just want to make a note of something:

I’ve spent so long trying to come up with a response to this because I can think of some people who are pretty deep in the RISE fandom who are like “2012Splints ain’t that bad tho”. So addressing the entire fandom is actually more difficult than it sounds concerning Splinter.

So instead of addressing the entire community, which would put many people in boxes that they don’t fit in, I’m going to use this Ask to make a statement about the whole Rise VS 2012 debate.

So my firm opinion that I will give is this:

You cannot forgive Rise Splinter without forgiving 2012 Splinter.

And for the 2012 Fandom:

You cannot understand 2012 Splinter without understanding Rise.

You cannot say that you honestly grasp the extent of one trauma/depression without acknowledging the existence of the other. Both Splinters have similar building blocks of trauma (forcefully separated from someone who they love dearly, forced to fight for their lives for who knows how many weeks/months, forced to live/adapt to a body that’s not their own, and forced care for helpless mutant children on top of it all) but their ways of dealing with it are different ONLY because of their different upbringings.

Their traumas are the same but their history is different. (No, you can’t use the ‘well one is a struggling immigrant and the other isn’t’, because Yoshi literally grew up in Japan. He only moved to New York because that’s what Shen wanted. So he has more connection to his origins than Lou has. But that really is beside the point.)

Anyone can have the argument that they feel that one Splinter is the ‘lesser evil’ in this scenario. There are some pretty good debates for both sides, but you cannot claim to have any sort of proof that one Splinter loves his sons more than the other.

You can’t. It’s ignorant and untrue. And I stand by that.

After all, they both kept and raised four mutant children.

And I know that’s a pretty obvious piece of lore, but I don’t think most people truly realize just how monumental that is.

It’s hard enough to raise one child, and harder still two, but four mutant infants? All on your own while trying to manage a new body with no outside help of any kind- and dealing with the fact that their entire infant hood would be a guessing game of do I have any idea if this would hurt/kill the turtle side of them? Not to mention the patience it would take raising children with super strength and amazing abilities that most parents don’t have to deal with?

Four children- all with different mental capacities, all with the different dreams and desires, all the different wants and hates, all the different fears and struggles and tantrums, and you have to learn how to understand and raise all of those personalities (because toddlers absolutely have MASSIVE personalities) all at once.

All of the variables that came into raising them, all those reasons that would make life beyond difficult, all the temptation not to, and these men pilled with trauma and grief still looked at the tiny freaks of nature and went: Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be their dad.

Just like there are many different love languages, there are also many different ways of showing your love. RISE Splinter did it in the big ways while often neglecting the small, and 2012 Splinter did it in the small ways well often neglecting the big.

One man does not have worse trauma than the other.

One man does not have more love for his children.

You will never be able to convince me that you truly understand what 2012 has gone through but still hate him, if you cannot acknowledge that there might be a reason for you to hate Rise too.

If you cannot comprehend understanding/forgiving 2012 then I really don’t think you truly understand/forgive Rise either.

So, yeah. That’s my hot take, ig.

#was kinda random but a good thought experiment #Thanks for the Ask!#IS Asks #Not entirely certain this makes sense but #here’s to hoping the words and wording?#teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #tmnt fandom #teenage mutant ninja turtles #2012 tmnt #splinter 2012 #tmnt 2012 splinter #2012 splinter #lou jitsu #rottmnt lou jitsu #splinter tmnt #tmnt splinter #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2k12

44 notes · View notes

silentscrying · 5 months ago

Text

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter FOUR.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, minor injury, anger/threats of violence. || sfw. 3.1k words.

YOU HAVEN’T BEEN in New York in a long while, it feels like, and walking through the busy streets you think you might’ve missed it. It reeks of weed and you’re met at every corner by someone trying to sell you hop-on hop-off bus tickets, but you welcome the familiarity of the big city chaos.

You’re not the only one, either.

“New Yoooork,” Gojo sings, flinging his arms out dramatically. “Concrete jungle wet dream tomaaaaatooo!” A few stares are tossed in his direction, but he’s also not the weirdest thing on the streets of New York. Across the way, there’s a man meditating on Razor scooter next to someone dressed as Spider-Man.

Megumi stares at Gojo, unimpressed. “Those aren’t the words.”

Gojo stops and spins to look at Megumi with his mouth agape. “You listen to Rihanna? I knew it!”

Two minutes later, Yuji has joined in, and it’s clear that they not only don’t know the real lyrics to the song, but they only know this one part. It’s going to haunt you at two in the morning when you’re trying to sleep. Nobara is recording them and as soon as Gojo notices, he somehow becomes ten times more obnoxious.

You’ve already settled in at the hotel, and now at Gojo’s insistence you’re out with half the team, searching for dinner.

“Jet lag is a state of mind!” he protested when Kusakabe said he was staying behind to sleep.

“It’s not jet lag, it’s indifference,” Kusakabe intoned in that dry, unaffected way of his, and then left Gojo complaining in the lobby.

You wind up at a pizza joint and get it to go, because even if New York is crawling with celebrities to start with, a bunch of NBA players during playoffs season is a little too much unwanted attention.

It’s cool for April in New York, and your long-sleeve black shirt is perfect as the skyscrapers and massive shopping centers block whatever breeze might be coming in from the ports. You told Ieiri you’d bring back food for her, and you’ve fallen back to walk with Nobara as the team paves the way through the Manhattan streets.

Nobara is awestruck by the city, has been since you could see it out the window of the jet, and you can’t help but smile as she looks around and takes photos of everything in sight.

“First time in New York?” you ask, and she nods eagerly.

“I’ve always wanted to come. I’m from kind of a small town, but I think I was meant to live somewhere like this.” You believe it—she seems so alive here, the electronic billboards and flashing lights gleaming in her eyes like sun rays on open water.

“Oh, wait ‘til you have actual New York pizza.” You nod toward the team up ahead, because you made them carry all the boxes. They eat like horses. Or pigs, or whatever animal consumes entire pizzas in a single sitting. Nobara grins. She reminds you a lot of yourself, in your first year, so enamored with the novelty of the NBA and the travel and the pace of life.

It’s exhausting, but you still love it.

You love it as Yuta holds the door for the whole team and then you and Nobara and then gets stuck holding it open for another crowd of people coming in behind. You love it as Ieiri grabs a box of pizza from Kento and proclaims she almost died of starvation. You love it as the whole team, coaches and all, crowds the floor’s common space and demolishes every pizza in the span of half an hour, and you love it as you’re sandwiched between Ieiri and Nobara with the guys sprawled on every surface they shouldn’t sit on.

At some point, Toge silently pulls your laptop and clipboard away and sets them pointedly on a table across the room. You protest, but he silences you with a look. Hard to argue with someone who won’t argue back. You suppose you can take a few hours off.

By ten, the guys have started throwing greasy napkin balls back and forth. “Can none of you go five seconds without playing basketball?” you ask, and in response Gojo lobs a napkin at you.

You catch it, and he yells, “That’s our star player! D1, baby!” The other guys whoop as you hurl the ball back at Gojo and hit him square in the face.

There’s a chorus of ooh and she got you and you gonna let that slide, Gojo? And then the room devolves into a full on war of paper napkins. Yaga grabs the pizza boxes before they can be weaponized and leaves the room, mumbling something about plausible deniability and damage charges that you should probably take to heart but don’t.

You’re ducked behind the couch, gathering napkin balls for ammo and lobbing them at whoever’s nearest, Ieiri and Nobara on either side of you. The guys have turned on one another, Gojo making a point to hit Megumi as many times as he can and Yuji heroically throwing himself in front to save him.

You feel a napkin hit you in the side of the head, and you gape as Ieiri grins at you with another napkin loaded in her hand.

“Betrayal,” you gasp, and stand up, pointing to Ieiri. “Betrayal from the inside!” Yuta obligingly starts pelting Ieiri with napkins. Junpei, the sweet thing, is underneath the pool table creating new ammo from a pile of unused napkins.

You’ll have to shut it down at some point, avoid the noise complaints and make the guys clean the space up and hit the sheets. You imagine explaining a loss to the Phantoms because of an all-night paper napkin war bender. But for now, you just let yourself go, and you don’t think about the paperwork or the phone calls or the tournament or the paycheck.

And you love it. You do.

—

It's always strange, playing in other stadiums, but really you’ve only just begun to think of Jujutsu Arena as home. Manhattan's stadium is around the same size, but its massive, curving architecture gives it an entirely different energy. The real truth of “home court advantage” is, you know, the fans.

The stands are flooded with blue and red, signs for players you don’t know. You feel a little out of your element in this new conference. A good number of tourists and dedicated Sorcerers fans have shown up as well, but they’re nowhere near the majority.

No matter. You’re confident in your team.

They start off strong, Ino in his element, nailing shots left and right and center. Kento’s going crazy on assists and Gojo and Megumi seem to be even more in sync than usual. Yuji, per usual, is having the time of his life.

Hakari and Toge sub in after first quarter, and Yuta and Junpei get their time too. Really, the Sorcerers are just toying with the Phantoms, who never stood a chance in the first place.

The only real issue is that the same player who had it out for Megumi in the last game is even more confident on his home court, and it’s making you nervous. His fouls are becoming more and more flagrant, and the ref’s not even calling him. Some prick named Hanami, with a massive stature and unnerving face tattoos.

You’re about to mention something to Ieiri when the man absolutely barrels into Megumi, and whether it was malicious or he simply lost control of his momentum doesn’t matter, because he hits the ground hard.

Your heart lurches in your chest. The stadium goes quiet, or as quiet as it ever is, the anxious murmurs of thousands of fans overlapping with the shouts of anxious teammates and the squeak of Ieiri’s shoes as she runs out onto the court.

It’s not like players never get knocked down. Sometimes they’ll even stay down for attention or to encourage the foul. But Megumi hates attention, and he hasn’t gotten back up.

He’s still on the floor, shaky hand gripping his head, and Yuji is there on his knees in an instant. Ieiri squats in front of him, talking low and urgent.

You yank off the headset as the Manhattan commentators start speculating—you don’t want to hear it. Megumi pushes himself up on an elbow, trying to wave Ieiri off, until Yuji says something that makes him listen to her.

But suddenly, that’s not where anyone’s attention is.

Gojo’s got Hanami’s jersey in his fist, and he’s up close and personal, yelling at him with a lethal grit in his tone. You feel the color drain from your face. Something in him has entirely shifted. There’s no trace of the silly, fun-loving Satoru Gojo now. He’s angry, and you’ve never seen his bright eyes so dark.

Whatever he’s saying to Hanami has started to sound almost manic, like there’s nothing Hanami would be able to say to talk Gojo down—not that he’d even be willing to try.

Should you do something? He can’t get kicked out now—if you lose both him and Fushiguro, you’re really not so sure about a sweep.

And Hanami isn’t having any of it, either. His massive hand is wrapped around Gojo’s forearm, and you can’t quite make out his words, but they certainly aren’t an invitation to dinner.

Suddenly Kento’s yanking Gojo back by the elbow and shoving him toward the sideline, saying something sharp and angry under his breath. Gojo doesn’t look at anyone as he stalks off the court with fists clenched, and Yaga is on him in a half-second.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing out there?” he barks. “You get your temper in check or you won’t see the court for the rest of the series. Take a walk, Gojo.”

You don’t need to look at the ref to know Gojo’s earned himself an ejection. He may not have thrown a punch, but one more second and he would have. The NBA is strict when it comes to violence. At least Hanami was fouled, though you doubt Megumi will be taking the free throw anytime soon.

Ieiri and Yuji get him on his feet and the crowd cheers, and you wish you could just tell them all to shut up. He clearly has a concussion, and the loud noise won’t help. But Megumi waves them off as Ieiri leads him back out of the gym to the training room for evaluation.

After review, Hanami isn’t ejected, and your fingernails dig into your palm hard enough to leave marks. There was no reason for him to go at Megumi that hard.

Gojo doesn’t come back. Yuji’s wringing his hands in an uncharacteristic show of anxiety, and the remainder of the quarter is played in a tense, unrelenting swarm of dunks and slightly-too-aggressive blocks. The Phantoms coach pulls Hanami shortly after the foul.

Christ.

You leave the gym before the half, making your way to a quiet back room to make a series of calls. You’re already getting swarmed on your work phone with questions about Fushiguro’s wellbeing, and soon Nobara’s joined you in the back room, undoubtedly experiencing the same thing.

After a few too many inquiries, you toss your phone on a table and head to check in with Ieiri. You can’t very well reply to questions you don’t know the answer to.

You catch her at the tail end of her standard concussion evaluation, and she has to argue with Megumi to keep him from going back out to the court. The only thing that gets through to him is her threatening to get Gojo. Not that Ieiri knows where Gojo even went, but the idea of it is enough to get Megumi to lie back down, grumbling.

She meets you just outside the door, looking exasperated. “That was fucking uncalled for. Ridiculous. Tell me he got fouled.” You nod, and she lets out a long breath. “Gojo?”

“Ejected. Probably in the locker room.” She sinks down the wall and groans dramatically, and you follow. “I get the feeling.” She yawns, and it makes you yawn too. “How bad?”

“Just grade one. He’ll be fine,” Ieiri says, and you feel the tension bleed from you in relief. “As long as he actually fucking rests. He’s so stubborn, it’s like Gojo.”

You snort. “He’ll listen to Yuji, at least.”

Ieiri eyes you for a moment. “Are they…?”

You shrug. “Hell if I know.”

Nobara appears a few minutes later, dropping your phone into your lap. “I should head back out,” she sighs. “Maybe if we flood all the social channels with three-pointers they’ll forget it ever happened.” You all know that’s not how it’s going to work, but it’s nice to imagine. “He’s okay?” Nobara asks. Ieiri briefs her on the concussion and Nobara sighs and nods before striding back in the direction of the gym.

You and Ieiri sit in a silent hallway for what feels like a long time. You track the score on your phone, and it’s not even close. According to Nobara, the rest of the team is taking this personally. No more playing around. They’re beating Manhattan into the floor, and Hanami hasn’t come back on.

“I’m gonna go find the problem child,” you say, and Ieiri cocks a brow at you. She knows who you mean.

“And you’re the best person for that?”

You shrug. “I’ve never seen him that… angry before,” you admit. “He looked like he could’ve killed that guy.”

Ieiri sighs. “Well, he did fuck with Fushiguro. And that’s the one thing you don’t do.”

You consider asking her what the hell that’s supposed to mean. And then you decide you’ll just make Gojo tell you.

You find him in the visitors’ locker room. You probably shouldn’t be in here, but the game is going on; nobody’s going to walk in until halftime.

He’s raking a hand through his hair, tense, stressed. Angry.

Worried.

His head snaps toward you in the doorway, and he immediately looks away, everything in him wired and on edge.

“He’s fine,” you promise. “It’s just a grade one. He’ll be good in a few days.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead he’s pacing, looking like he’s two seconds away from pounding a fist into the wall.

“Gojo.”

“Tell me he got ejected.”

You sigh, which is answer enough.

“Fuck!” He kicks the air, at a loss.

“Gojo.”

“What?” he snaps, and then he freezes. “Shit. Sorry, I’m sorry, I just—”

“It’s okay,” you say, and you’re moving forward without really thinking. “Hanami’s a dick and he’s awful and he should’ve been suspended. I get it. But shit’s not fair. Just win the next game and you don’t have to see him again.”

Gojo sinks down onto an empty bench, groaning. “He can’t just get away with that, did you see how hard Gu—Fushiguro went down?”

“Ieiri’s got him, Gojo, he’s okay.”

He shoots to his feet again, unable to sit still.

“I’ve never seen you this… mad,” you admit. He sighs deeply and crosses the room to you.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this. I just—god, I lost it, didn’t I?” His laugh is self-deprecating, void of any real humor. “He’s had it out for Megumi this whole series. I don’t know what the fuck his deal is.”

“His deal is Megumi is a better athlete than he’ll ever be, and he thinks he can compensate with dirty play.” You hesitate momentarily, but the curiosity wins out. “You’re protective of him. Like, very protective.” You clear your throat, stalling. “I know he’s your teammate, your friend, but that was…”

How do you say this? How do you ask what they are to each other? “He told me you knew each other before he was drafted. But you didn’t play in college together, right?” You know for a fact they didn’t. You know all of your players’ college records like the back of your hand.

“I—”

The buzzer blares through the locker room speakers, but you’d probably have heard it even without them—that and the resulting roar of sound from the gym down the hall.

“Shit,” you hiss, and retreat toward the door. He was going to tell you. You were so close. You slip out the door with the intent of checking in on Megumi. You can hear Gojo exiting the locker room behind you, probably waiting for Yaga to walk in and start yelling at him for his behavior.

When you look up at him, the tension hasn’t left his shoulders and his gaze is still far away, anxious and unfocused. You reach up and tug the headband down over his eyes again. He huffs a laugh before peeking out under it, holding it away from his eyes with one hand.

“Thanks, Alley.”

You smile, and he smiles back.

Only seconds later, Yuji comes skidding down the hallway and overshoots the door to the training room, catching himself on the doorframe just in time. “Megs?”

“Itadori, get your ass to the locker room!” Yaga shouts after him, but he’s already disappeared into the training room. Ieiri walks out shortly after, immediately clocking you and Gojo. And then the team filing into the locker room, and Kusakabe approaching Gojo with a scowl that you wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of.

Gojo glances toward the training room.

“Yuji’s got him,” Ieiri promises.

Kusakabe grabs Gojo by the back of his jersey and drags him into the locker room, already chewing him out for losing his temper. You sigh and let your head fall onto Ieiri’s shoulder.

Less than fifteen minutes and you’ll be back out on the court. You wonder if they’ll put Hanami back in. You hope they do, just so you can watch the team kick his ass.

Yuji slinks out of the training room a minute later, looking at you sheepishly before darting into the locker room. You hear Yaga shout something along the lines of about fucking time, Itadori and leave the team to their strategizing.

Hanami doesn’t come back on, and the rest of the game is a blur for you. It’s weird, watching the team play without Gojo, not even on the sidelines being obnoxious and making weird hand signals at his teammates. You’re back in the team area halfway through third quarter, taking more calls with Nobara, but you’re back in the gym in time to watch the Sorcerers finalize a 144-103 score.

You smile, but you don’t feel that thrum under your skin, the infectious enthusiasm. You have too many questions.

directory. || prev. || next.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #megumi fushiguro #nba basketball #yuji itadori #kento nanami #nobara kugisaki #shoko ieiri #geto suguru #jjk hanami #toge inumaki #yuta okkotsu #ino takuma #hakari kinji #kusakabe atsuya #yaga masamichi

70 notes · View notes

eliza-and-her-monsters · 3 months ago

Note

jb x reader putting up the tree and julien can't quite reach

Christmas Tree Farm

Julien Baker x Reader

Summary: Julien might’ve hated Christmas, but if there was one thing she didn’t mind to splurge on… it was the tree. Not one of those artificial ones either- a real one. The only problem was is that a lot of times the more majestic looking trees were double both of your sizes.

Contains: Engaged/old married couple banter and teasing, subtle fluff and subtle discussions of mascxfemme relationship dynamics!!

I know Julien not being able to reach is a very small part but I hope you enjoy regardless! 💚❤️

How many lesbians did it take to lug a 8” Christmas tree back towards the car? The answer was clearly more than two. Every single muscle and tendon and bone in my body seemed to burn as I shoved the wheelbarrow back in the direction of Julien’s red truck with a groan. “Julien, I think you’re taking this whole Sisyphus obsession too far!” I huffed.

“We can transfer this to actually be uphill if you’d like.” She shot back with a glare of her own. “It’s not even that far.”

“You push it then!”

“I’m pulling… which is arguably harder.” She spoke.

In true fashion I knew I was probably being a brat, in all honesty I almost admired her determination of actually getting a real tree this year. Even though part of me believed she was doing it in some act of protest in order to convince me that setting up a tree was hardly worth it. Something I would never do.

“If you’re trying to prove your masculinity it worked.” I sighed, crashing onto the excess inches of snow like it was some fluffy bed the moment we made it back to the truck. And compared to the work we had just done… it definitely felt like it.

“I don’t think I needed to prove anything, you clearly weren’t going to help chop that thing down.” She replied with a nonchalant shrug as she sauntered over towards me with a tiny smirk.

“Julien… do you want sex this month or not?” I nearly growled causing her eyes to fly open in shock.

“Good God, woman! A whole month?! That’s harsh!”

I knew what it sounded like, and if it was anybody else people probably would’ve thought the dynamic of said relationship was a little fishy. But in all honesty I couldn’t even remember my life before Julien, we had spent so much of it together. Your stereotypical childhood best friends to lovers to her getting down on one knee on my birthday to ask the age old question. It was just how we were. We bantered and ranted and laughed at each other and grew to exponential levels of annoyance at each other’s stubbornness. One of those things of course being the time of Christmas.

I had to admit I was surprised whenever she sprung up the idea of getting a real tree this year. Until the evening progressed and it started to feel more and more like an act of ‘I’ll show you!’ Either way though I’d be lying if I said the sight of her swinging that axe didn’t do something to me.

“Careful! Those are breakable!” I scolded the moment I heard her dashing down the stairs once we had settled in and got everything set up at home. A miracle in all honesty.

“Well there’s 5 thousand layers of ribbons and bows in here so they should be fine.” Julien said with a roll of her eyes as she sat the box piled high with various Christmas decorations in front of the massive tree.

“You know, the tree isn’t going anywhere. I don’t really know why we’re rushing.” I began with a clear of my throat as I shoved my aching body up to my feet.

“Most people get their tree up in one day though.” Julien stated, eyes following my hands as I plucked a piece of ribbon from the box and proceeded to throw it around her body like she was a Christmas present. “Y/n, baby, what are you doing? We have a lot to do.”

“Put the box down.” I practically whined as I pulled myself in closer to her and only proceeded to press against the box instead of her. “We have all day. I never thought you would be the eager one.”

“Well, I just wanted you to actually have a good Christmas since we were, kind of, really busy last year.” Her cheeks went pink as she finally let the box plunk on the floor. Giving into the ribbon she slid her arms around my waist, bodies finally pressed together as our lips met. A hint of nicotine mixed with apple cider still lingering on her breath and I caught myself wanting to lap every bit of it up.

“Well, I mean I could’ve done without the physical labor but it has been a pretty sweet holiday so far.” I shrugged once the two of us reluctantly parted and I knelt down to scoop up a shining green ornament.

“Aren’t you the one always bitching to me about this being an ‘equal partnership’ whenever we start branching too much into the whole ‘masc and femme’ roles?” She teased with a use of quotation marks.

“Physical labor has nothing to do with masc and femme roles, Julien, some of the most masc people I know would never think of getting a massive real life Christmas tree twice the size of them.” I scoffed with a roll of my eyes as I placed the Christmas bauble on one of the already fluffed branches.

“Well, I’m not most masc people… I wouldn’t mind being a lumberjack.”

“Oh if only you were born with the same height of your personality, you’d give all those basketball girls a run for their money.” I giggled a bit to myself, just in time to see my five foot nothing fiancée acting like she was doing just that. Or trying to audition for a ballet either one. “Julien! Get a fucking step stool for christ’s sake!”

I nearly flew behind her to catch her whenever she inevitably fell as she launched herself right off the floor to haphazardly more or less throw the ornament onto one of the taller branches. “It got up there just fine.” She said with a huff as she blew a loose strand of hair out of her face, bent over with her hands on her knees.

“You’re getting much to old to do that, you know?” I spoke with widened eyes as I stared down at her. “Now, since I have no interest in playing ballerina, I’m going to go grab a step stool that you’re welcome to use.”

“I might take you up on that offer.” She replied, body finally flopping on the couch behind her. So now she was finally tired.

Credits: Divider by @mikeykuns 💚

#fanfic #boygenius fanfic #boygenius x reader #rpf #julien baker x reader #julien baker fanfic #blurb #lesbian #christmas #wlw

46 notes · View notes

thedirtiwalkoniswet · 2 months ago

Text

Alright, rating how terrifying the empire feels in every imperial era star wars media

The bad batch - 9/10, while our mc do get away with their lives (almost) always, it has to be said that the empire is in it's early stage and the clone troopers aren't super terrifying, which makes the empire overall less threatening. However, the people in charge, the emperor, Tarkin, whoever, they are terrifying in this. They brutally take over everything in their path, soldiers are less than numbers, your life is only worth preserving if you have purpose.

Solo - 2/10, there isn't a large focus on the empire, so really there is not much to rate

Tales of the empire - 5/10, there is little focus on the actual empire, Morgan Elsbeth is just doing her own thing and the inquisitors are actually pretty brutal, but they are also kind of their own seperate group, focusing on a very small part of the empires plans

Obi-Wan Kenobi - 4/10, it was way too easy to sneak into and break out of this 'super secure base', their plans were barely thought out which only made the imperials seem like massive morons. The inquisitors also weren't super terrifying, but maybe I'm just saying that because the make up doesn't allow you to take them seriously. Now, I do think Vader is a terrifying force in the show, but it's mostly just for the shock value and not any other value (also he had plenty chances to kill Obi Wan, but instead just stood there) But the empire overall seems weak, like there are always some major flaws to be exploited instead of small cracks to slip through

Rebels - 7/10, for the most part it doesn't feel super terrifying, after all do always keep our mc alive when captured, they barely torture them, and when they do it's not super severe. 3 out of those points are just for Thrawn and Thrawn alone, because he is terrifying, the rest? Eh

Andor - 10/10 hoooly shit, they do not care about anything that is in their path of success. The imperials here are not portrayed as mostly idiots who don't know what they're doing, they're actually cunning and smart and the only reason they lost is because the heroes were even smarter and more daring than they thought. They use intense torture to get what they want, the prison is unlike anything we've ever seen, they spy on every person, the empires paranoia is a suffocating boot to everyone who holds even the slightest position of power.

Rouge one - 9/10 been too long since I've seen it, but from what I remember, yeah, it's terrifying, all of it

Episode 4 - 3/10 silly little guys who just happen to blow up a planet and then literally all of them die

Episode 5 - 8/10 alright, they're actually kinda scary. The scene where Han gets tortured just for funsies is pretty rough and the battle on Hoth was quite intense

Episode 6 - 7/10 pretty big threat in this one again, the emperor was scary up until the point he was picked up like an empty tv box and tossed aside. It wasn't super easy for the heroes to win this time either (but the plan was pretty simple and the emperor really underestimated them) Also I still stand on the fact that if it wasn't for the death star the empire would've continued on much longer, especially without the second one.

Guess that's all

#star wars #also you must excuse the mistakes I drank a litre of energy by mistake and haven't slept in 24 hours #original trilogy #andor #star wars rebels #the bad batch #obi wan kenobi #tales of the empire #rouge one

34 notes · View notes

24hlevi · 1 year ago

Note

is it too early in november to ask for christmas themed gen v headcanons? like kissing under the mistletoe or smth

it is never to early dear friend! i love this so much thank you for requesting 🫶🎄

— christmas with the gen v characters

gen v characters (marie, jordan, emma, cate, & sam) x gn!reader

warnings: none!

Marie Moreau -

- marie has always loved christmas, but after her parents passing's she didn't really celebrate it in the orphanage, so when you came around and wanted to celebrate it with her, she was so happy

- she absolutely adores walking around the city at night to see the snow and all the pretty lights lit up while drinking hot chocolate with you, despite how freezing it is, she loves it

- marie enjoys a few christmas movies, like the nightmare before christmas that you will be watching with her every day before christmas with a different movie each day, and if you have the old school rudolph movie she will go insane

- you'll have to put up mistletoe on your own and not tell her because she lowkey thinks it's dumb and will gently shove you when you kiss her under it but is smiling

- she will buy presents for everyone she's friends with or cares about, and gets you a lot of different gifts for the holiday, and will wrap them very prettily, usually they are wrapping paper coded so each person has a different wrapping paper

Jordan Li -

- christmas is one of jordan's favorite holidays in general, and that love only expands once they have you around and can buy presents for you, which will be a lot

- their favorite activity is decorating the tree, they don't like real ones because of how much work they are so it'll be a fake one, but they love putting up the ornaments and the star on the top (they think the angel is creepy)

- they will take you to every christmas party or event imaginable, and yes they might make you both dress as versions of santa for shits and giggles

- they are gonna make you watch the old school holiday movies they have them on dvd and will watch them consistently throughout the month

- mistletoe is a must, they are continuously pulling you under it to kiss you or you pulling them to it, either way wherever one is yall are kissing under it

Emma Meyer -

- god is this girl obsessed with christmas, like. obsessed. she loves the music, the decorations, the traditions, everything

- emma will make you put up decorations as soon as thanksgiving is over, and she has lots of decorations, the place is covered in lights and tinsel you can hardly sleep because of how bright it is

- she is the best at wrapping presents they come out looking so pretty and she loves making bows with ribbon around the box but dies a little inside whenever someone just cuts it off instead of carefully taking it off

- girlie is definitely putting up mistletoe somewhere without telling you just so she can kiss you unexpectedly just to point up to the plant with a grin on her face

- alcoholic eggnog is a must for christmas eve, she will have so much because she loves eggnog and will be passed out on top of you to wake up christmas morning with a massive headache

Cate Dunlap -

- cate isn't the biggest fan of christmas, she hates the music, thinks all the decorations are a bit too much, but she will still get presents for people

- she mainly spends the cold days inside with you watching the snow fall, usually with a coffee spent in a comfortable silence

- she doesn't spend a lot of time wrapping presents, she'll put it in a bag or box and call it a day, but she'll put a little more effort into your gifts

- kiss her under mistletoe and she will roll her eyes and grumble about how stupid that is but you can tell she likes it

- she puts up a little tiny tree to put in the corner cause she hates spending a lot of time decorating a giant tree so she settles with a small one

Sam Riordan -

- sam hasn't celebrated christmas in a while, so when you brought it up to him on celebrating it with him, he was overjoyed

- he obviously knows santa isn't real by now, but he still wants to set out cookies because he's still a kid at heart

- he will not open any presents until he has a hot chocolate in his hands and the fireplace is on or at least the tv station with christmas music playing

- he definitely doesn't know the thing about mistletoe so when you kiss him under one he is so confused so you will have to explain it to him

- he rips apart the presents wrapping paper entirely, don't put too much effort into making them look pretty cause they will be destroyed in two seconds

186 notes · View notes

megs-98 · 3 months ago

Text

i had to shower without music so naturally i spent the entire time thinking about what the datv companion/rook bathrooms would look like

i'm gonna add my thoughts under the cut but everything will be sfw, there's just going to be a lot of rambling cause i will be talking about every companion and my rook. also i haven't finished the game yet so some thoughts are definitely incomplete

now i don't know if the fade would generate bathrooms for each character or if this place that can seemingly produce anything would just plop down a communal bathhouse. but i like to think the caretaker would make sure each person has a personalized ensuite. i also think that these bath areas would change as you get farther along in that companion's quest, similar to how harding's room gets more and more plants in it as you do her quest.

harding, for example, would her shower start off as a waterfall cascading off of rocks. symbolizing her love and appreciation of her ancestors and then by the time you finish her quest would there be a massive leaf coming from the rock side causing the water to cascade down? similar to the giant flower coming from her ceiling, tying in her love of plants

or with davrin. at the start, would he just have a pond? of questionable water? cause those wardens are roughin it for sure. but then as he and assan find their turlum, the water clears and rock walls form so assan can jump into the water from different heights? giving both davirn and emmrich a heart attack cause we know manfred would want to give it a try

would neve have a small area with basically just a bowl of water, a bar of soap, and a cloth? essentially only giving herself a bird bath cause she has leads to follow up on.. but as she continues through her quest and knows she has people to count on and is not alone in the world so she, for lack of a better word, grants herself time to enjoy a relaxing moment bathing, so an actual bathtub with nice soaps and soft towels appear. it doesn't need to be elaborate, she still enjoys things that are practical and get the job done

bellara's could go one of two ways in my head; either her shower would be more akin to rain falling through the tree canopy. or would it start as a small waterfall feeding into a stream. not sure how it would improve on itself from there though. maybe the foresty area comes more and more to life maybe having a calmed relic or two

taash, i think taash's would start as something more qunari centered, but as they learn more about themselves !and especially if rook encourages them to embrace their riviani culture! it would turn into a desert oasis and is just their small patch of paradise to enjoy however they choose to

emmrich i think his would be a practical bathroom but with a flair. i honestly haven't finished his questline yet but i know he's secure with himself and knows what he likes. so of course it would have all his creature comforts, maybe even have a box or something that would warm up his robe for him

lucanis would have a rather grandiose bathroom. he is used to the finer things in life and has an appreciation for style. he would have all the latest items popular with antivans, but he would prefer a small flow of water coming from the ceiling. could you imagine how broody he'd be in the shower, and it would probably cold too so he doesn't fall asleep. but then as he and spite are able to work together, he feels more comfortable to sit in a warm bath, appreciating how relaxing it can be, especially with a good glass of wine, hopefully even spite enjoying it to whatever extend he's able too

now for rook. my main rook is crow!rook, named yaryna (goes by yary) hers would definitely be practical but still have her favorite items. she's knowledgeable about plants, she is a poisoner after all, so she'd have eucalyptus hanging from the walls, some aloe vera, maybe an orchid or two. just a decent amount of high humidity plants, a *mirrorless* vanity table where she keeps her skin/hair care and makeup. and as she progresses through the story, finding more confidence in herself, a mirror would appear. her area wouldn't necessarily turn better, but she'd appreciate what she has, what she has always had, seeing the importance in "average" things, just as she does with herself.

#megs rambles #this got so long #dragon age the veilguard #lace harding #davrin #assan the griffon #manfred the skeleton #neve gallus #bellara lutare #taash the dragon hunter #emmrich volkarin #lucanis dellamorte #spite dellamorte #rook #crow!rook #these little guys live in my head #rent free #dav

27 notes · View notes

aheckinmess · 2 months ago

Text

Jingle Bell Rock

(Part 19 of The Snowball Effect)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Enji Todoroki, Endeavor, Female Reader, Reader Has an Ice Quirk, Endeavor x Reader, Enji Todoroki x Reader, MHA Christmas Special, Attending a Christmas Party, All Might is Mentioned, Got a Little Angsty, But Not Overly So, More Like a Deep Conversation with Enji, After All He's Only Soft with You

Word Count: 891 words

Summary: Official pro hero Christmas parties are much more difficult than Christmas parties with friends who happen to be pro heroes. The obvious trial? The press. Lesser known struggles? Having to remind your husband that even the Symbol of Peace is human.

Playlist: The Snowball Effect

December 19

Pro hero Christmas parties make you a lot more nervous than parties with your friends who just happen to be pro heroes. The biggest difference? The media is a beast. Even just pulling up in the car with Enji you both find yourselves boxed in a metal car with camera flashes twinkling like stars outside the dark tinted windows.

“Ignore them.” Enji reminds me with a kiss to my temple. “It’s just me and you, remember?”

When the two of you step out, he’s no longer your Enji. He is Endeavor.

Flames mask his face as his features cement into rigid lines across his face. His exterior transforms to gruff and grouchy in moments with his careful hand at the small of your back contradicting the icy glare he throws towards everyone else.

It draws a chuckle from your chest as you both make it past the press and into the main hall, where a magnificent tree stretches to the ceiling and declares a season of joy and generosity to the massive crowd of heroes.

“Just me and you and a bunch of strangers.” You snort.

“It won’t be so bad.” Enji consoles.

“Strangers? Why, Mrs. Todoroki, I’m hurt!” All Might’s laughter echoes behind you, accented by the shuttering of camera lenses. “Surely you and Endeavor have seen me enough times to consider me an acquaintance, at least!”

You chuckle at his comment, not even a little surprised when your husband grits his teeth.

“Hardly. You’re more like an irritation. Arguably worse than a stranger.” Enji growls, his fingers gripping your hip tighter. “Come, my flame, let’s go.”

As he steers you away and off to the side for refreshments, you squeeze his forearm.

“I know he’s your rival, but what’s so bad about him otherwise, Enchan?” You press, a smirk developing around your cheeks. “He’s only ever treated you with respect and honor.”

“My flame,” Enji pinches the bridge of his nose, sucking in a thin breath of air. When he opens his eyes, his hand lays on his napkin. “I’ve explained this before.”

“And you promised me you were working on it.” You urge, resting a hand on top of his. “We agreed. You can train Shoto to strive for the number one spot if he wants since he’s insistent on being a hero like All Might, too. But trying to make him shoulder your dreams is not fair to either of you. The first step to breaking free of those corrosive thoughts is more interaction with your rival. He is human, just like you.”

“Sometimes I wonder.” Enji mutters, glancing at the blonde who’s still surrounded by fans and reporters alike. “Why else would all my work go to waste?”

“Don’t you think he feels the same way?”

Confusion swirls in the skies of his eyes as he looks at you.

“Impossible. His goal is achieved.”

“His goal may not be the same as yours, Enchan.”

You’ve spent time with All Might both as the Symbol of Peace and as Toshinori. But one thing remains common between the two of them: it’s lonely at the top of the hero rankings.

“I fail to see your point. Enlighten me.” Enji loads a fork with turkey as he eats and listens to you.

“Have you ever seen All Might’s family, Enchan?”

“No, but I imagine he has good reason for keeping them hidden with his status being what it is.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You chuckle. “I mean, have you ever seen anything about All Might having a family? There’s no mention of a wife, children, even immediate family like a mother or father. You, of all people, should know that the higher up in the rankings the more impossible it is to hide your loved ones from view. If he had a family, we’d know by now.”

Enji opens his mouth to speak, before understanding sparkles in a sea of blue.

“You’re saying that what he really desires is a family, but no matter how hard he works he cannot attain it…”

“Yes.” You nod. “While you consider him your rival because you want to compete for the number one spot, I wonder if he considers you the same because he wants what you have…a loving family to share that success with.”

Both of you eat in silence for a time; while it’s frustrating not knowing what’s going through Enji’s head, you’re just glad he marinates on this subject. When it was first evident Shoto had the desired quirk Enji had hoped for, he’d been much less receptive to any advice regarding All Might.

Trapping Enji in a thick icy prison that took twenty minutes to melt had finally reminded him that you wouldn’t be pushed around, especially concerning the safety and emotional care of your children.

Now? Here you are. He’s much more receptive to your thoughts regarding his ambitious obsession with beating the No. 1 hero and Symbol of Peace.

“I don’t suppose I’d considered that.” Enji finally answers. “You are right, of course. Even now, he still stands over there unable to move because of the crowd.”

“Why don’t we go help him escape for a bit of reprieve? In light of the Christmas spirit, if nothing else?”

And though you can tell the idea genuinely pains him, he stands with a heavy sigh.

“Fine.”

Day 20

Credit to @saradika-graphics for the holiday banner! Thank you so much!

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #Enji Todoroki #Endeavor #Female Reader #Reader Has an Ice Quirk #Endeavor x Reader #Enji Todoroki x Reader #MHA Christmas Special #Attending a Christmas Party #All Might is Mentioned #Got a Little Angsty #But Not Overly So #More Like a Deep Conversation with Enji #After All He's Only Soft with You

9 notes · View notes

misc-obeyme · 9 months ago

Note

YEAHHH JOIN THE SOLOMAMS TRAIN !! I am here to ramble, they make me crazy. I'm brainrotting so hard about coffee shop AU. Vibrating with ideas.

I never thought about Mammon owning the cafe, but hell that would be so cool!! Okay, okay, here's my thoughts. Mammon owns the cafe and works there, and also has an apartment directly above it (trying to decide WHY he owns it, maybe took over from Lucifer?? Bought the cheap building impulsively bc apartment, deciding it was a problem for future him to decide what he'd make out of the lower space).

People go mostly for him because the vibes are immaculate, everyone always leaves in a better mood. The college campus down the block has a rumor that if you buy a coffee, leave a good tip (specifically dollar coins or two dollar bills), and have an exam the next day, you'll always get a passing grade no matter what. Mammon works overtime during midterms and finals, business is booming.

Solomon is a college student (need to decide on a major) and comes at the exact same time every weekday morning, buying a danish (sometimes strawberry, sometimes ham and cheese) and a coffee before class, except on Wednesdays because he doesn't have classes. Mammon knows his order by heart after a month, but pretends to ask him what he wants while literally typing it into the kiosk. Mammon will squint at him, somehow knowing which danish he'll choose that day before Solomon utters a word. "Ahaha, why do you ask when you already have a danish boxed up?" "Who says that's for you, eh? I don't know everyone's order around here." "Not everyone. You're right. Just mine :]" "O-OI, SHUT UP BEFORE I CHARGE YA EXTRA!"

If I'm including my mc, I'm definitely working at a record shop a block down the street (my dream job)!! Records, CD's, small music sheet collection, buying services (trading and hunting down records is available for repeat customers, AHEM, Lucifer and Solomon.) Took over from the old owner because I visited so much as a teen, was hired as soon as I was old enough, and took over at say 22 ish.

HEAR ME OUT, Solomon who still uses a walkman. I think it'd be nice. He visits the store occasionally after class to browse, getting lost in the CD's. I'm imagining him having a massive collection, and having some rare items. He once showed up with a copy of something I had only ever dreamed of owning (once saw it secondhand for $800, he also had other stuff with him), and I almost jumped across the counter when he said he was looking to sell or trade for credit. "You look like you're simultaneously about to faint or attack me." "I can't decide which to do."

Lucifer loves collecting records, so he visits a lot, and uses it as an excuse to check up on Mammon (won't admit it). There's a collection of records kept up front that are deemed 'cursed' because they always skip the first track (Lucifer will buy one every month). Lucifer became a regular after I accidentally came across a rare first press edition of a record online and presented it to him because he mentioned it was a dream to own. He brought me a coffee and a croissant from his brother's coffee shop the next day to show his gratitude, mentioning it wasn't too far either.

Suddenly I'm visiting the cafe the next day, waking up early to have time before opening up shop. Almost die trying to order, because Lucifer did not mention his brother was hot. Successfully get my hands on another croissant, and a sandwich that was recommended. I don't visit every day, but when I do, it's always at the same time. Mammon grumbled something about trying to have my order ready before I got there, only for me to not show up some days. "N-Not that it means anything! I'm just tryin' to be more efficient!" "Well, I'm sorry I don't always wake up early! Getting out of bed is hard. If I had your number, I'd text you saying I was on my way, y'know?" "Y-YOU'RE ASKING FOR MY NUMBER?" "WAIT WHAT, N-NO, I MEAN- well.. actually, that wouldn't be... so bad? F-FORGET I SAID ANYTHING IF THAT'S WEIRD, UM, UH, SORRY, CAN I PAY NOW?" "... It's on the house. And uh, look inside the cup sleeve whenever you leave."

HELP I NEVER MEAN FOR MY ASKS TO GET THIS LONG, I JUST CAN'T STOP RAMBLING. The fact this isn't even everything, this is just the backstory. The lore, if you will. There is a plot !! Everything is connected.

- ✨ anon

✨ anon, tell me you're writing this story. This sounds exactly like what I do when I'm brainstorming a story before I write it.

And it's so good!!! I love every part of this!! I mean, okay, you don't have to write it if you don't want to obviously lol but I think it'd turn out really good if you did!!

I mean, you have fully converted me to the solomams train now, I'm so invested!!

I love Lucifer's role in all this and I LOVE that you work at the record shop down the street!!

Definitely living for the poly vibes, I wanna see what happens when you and Solomon show up at the same time. Poor Mammon might just have a whole heart attack about it!

Anyway, I love this. Please feel free to tell me more. I love coffee shop AUs so so much.

#what is it about coffee shops huh?#I can't explain it but I'm all about it #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me solomon #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #✨ anon #misc answers

21 notes · View notes