#flash fics

[saiilorstars]

✯ ocs/wips of fandoms being updated and/or being worked on in no particular order ✯

Doctor Who

DC (TV)

Marvel

SVU

Harry Potter

Criminal Minds

Nancy Drew 

TVD/TO

Sailor Moon(Crystal)

Fantastic Beasts

Miscellaneous works:

OCs Playlist (currently under construction)

Plot Bunnies

Joint OC special edits

Canon Character Edits

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​ @arrthurpendragon​ @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet​ @averyhotchner @foxesandmagic  @kmc1989 @caplanbuckybarnes​

[If you’d like to be a part of any OC’s works/edits, let me know!]

[milflewis]

i love u. so very very much. happy birthday. here’s 3k of medieval schumilton. sorry about the soulmate fic lol i will get to it eventually ! mb

The stranger raises his eyebrows as he straightens up from his bow, hand curling into a loose fist at his hip. Mick narrows his eyes at him.

He’s seen Lewis do the very same thing over and over again. It is one of the few tells the Head of the Kingsguard has — flexing his fingers when he’d prefer Mick’s father to duck and run behind him even though he can’t ask him to because no, Your Majesty, they haven’t done anything yet but I’ve got a feeling, a bad one, Sebastian, please remind the king what happened the last time he ignored one of my feelings and —

His dad grins, easy and loose, waving a hand. “No need for the formality, Bottas. You took an arrow for Mika — you do not bow here.”

The man’s — Bottas — mouth twitches, ticking up at one corner, something in his face relaxing as he stands at a casual parade rest, hands not quite behind him. The handle of the double headed axe peeks over his shoulder, stained dark wood, notched and leather wrapped. A days worth of travel dust and dirt clings to his boots and cloak, face unshaven but eyes clear and hands washed.

Bottas. Mick knows that name.

“Well?” His dad says, rising from his chair, hands on his knees because he likes to act a decade older than he is. He grips Bottas’ elbow when he walks over to him, hand clapping his shoulder. “What can I do for you? Are you staying for a while or just passing through? We have rooms to spare if you want one, and I could have food brought up. Rather late for dinner but I’m sure we’ll be able to find you something.”

Bottas shakes his head, shifting on his feet minutely. He rolls his shoulders ever so slightly. “No, thank you. I ate before I arrived. I was — I was hoping to stay for a couple of nights but —“

“Daniel thought it’d take you at least five years before you came calling but see,” Sebastian grins from the doorway, doublet open, trousers creased. “I knew better.”

His dad laughs and Bottas flicks his eyes up before turning to look at Sebastian. “And how many did you think?”

Sebastian shrugs, long silver chain under his clothes glinting in the firelight. Mick doesn’t miss how Bottas’ eyes follow it for a moment. “Less than five,” he replies, eyes bright, and lets the door swing shut behind him, Mick catching a glimpse of Jenson’s armoured shoulders standing guard in the hallway, as he steps inside, pulling Bottas in for a close embrace.

Bottas laughs, bringing his arms up to grip him back, Sebastian’s doublet bunching up under his hands. “Glad to know Ricciardo has faith in me.”

Sebastian pulls away, hands on either side of Bottas’ face. He taps him lightly on the cheek as he says, “I just knew you’d miss us too much to stay away. Lewis agreed.”

Bottas shoves him, cheeks heating. “Well if Lewis says you’re right….” His eyes are heavy with a joke that Mick does not understand but Sebastian seems to as his grin widens.

“Speaking of Lewis,” his dad says, arms crossed, leaning back against his desk. “I would’ve thought you’d bring him with you?” He looks at Sebastian who shrugs, lips struggling to press together around the stretch of his smile as his face lights up, delighted with himself. “I was with Daniel and a few others,” he replies, not looking at Bottas, eyes wide. “I didn’t know if this visit was a secret or not.”

Bottas’ smile flattens into a dead-eyed stare. Sebastian turns to blink at him. “Considering how things were left with him last time.”

“And how,” Bottas says, quietly. “Were things left last time?”

Sebastian tilts his head to the side, smile sliding crooked. “As I just said, I don’t know. Did you not hear or is that left ear still bothering you?”

“Alright.” His dad rolls his eyes at the two of them, cutting Mick a look of fond exasperation. His dad doesn’t like many people or, well, that is not entirely true. He likes people but he just doesn’t have the patience most of the time. There are very few he will tolerate at a late hour, especially one where people will not talk directly to each other. He remembers his hand on Bottas’ shoulder, how he stood like Lewis. He looks at the easy way Sebastian stands in the man’s space, even as Bottas glares at him.

You took an arrow for Mika.

Mick came up with a game three months into Lewis training him, desperate for an insight into the man’s life, desperate for anything. Lewis had played along in that way that he does where Mick isn’t sure if he understands why Mick seeks him out when he doesn’t need to, why he catches Mick watching him so often. For every hit Mick manages to land on Lewis, Lewis tells him a story, about anything at all as long as Lewis is in it.

This one, Lewis had said, tapping a thumb along the thin white nick on his jaw, barely longer than a nail. It was nearly fully covered over by hair. Mick squinted against the sun, leaning in closer.

A friend gave it to me. During the Bull campaign, I had broken a few fingers and so, could no longer shave by myself. He had flexed his hand, fingers long and thick and stretching, covered in thin tattoos. But to let someone that close to your throat with a blade, he had laughed. Not very easy, you know? Still. It had started to bother me. I hate, he said, mouthing twisting. Having a long beard, especially when it is messy. Gets in the way. How Seb does it, not a fucking notion. Apologies for the language, my prince, he’d grinned and danced away when Mick kicked at him.

Your friend, Mick had poked as Lewis, like always, came wandering back. Lewis had only shrugged, pulling his sweat dark shirt over his head and swapping it for a new one. Guanyu grinning at him, a few feet away where he was leaning against a pillar, waiting to escort Mick to afternoon audiences.

Valtteri Bottas, Lewis said, face soft. A good man. The best perhaps, if I am being completely truthful, but truly awful at giving you a shave. When he looked at him, smiling, Mick could see the scar again.

Or at least, he is when Daniel is trying to make him laugh with dirty jokes – I don’t know if you’ve heard the one about the honey badger and a bottle of gin but it nearly got me killed. Mick choked on his water and Lewis grinned, slapping his back.

“Mick?”

His dad is looking at him, eyebrows raised, and Mick clears his throat, the back of his neck growing hot. “Yes?”

“Would you go and bring Lewis here?”

“It’s his night off,” Mick says, a little too quickly judging from how Valtteri Bottas looks at him. Sebastian laughs beside him. “I know,” his dad says. “But he will be angry with me if we wait until morning to tell him that Bottas is here, and I am not in the mood for an angry Lewis Hamilton.”

Sebastian laughs again, nudging Bottas with an elbow as he asks what happened to the gloves that he sent him and why isn’t he wearing them.

—

When Mick finds him, Lewis is sitting cross legged on the floor of the Kingsguard’s barracks, feet covered in thick socks. His shirt is loose around his shoulders and untucked. The fire in front of him throws in the room in strange shadows and glowing orange light.

He does not look up when Mick enters, only putting down his sewing as he gets closer. “My prince. Is there anything I can do for you — it’s very late, you know?”

Mick recognises the material Lewis is holding as one of Sebastian’s tunics, the deep navy of his family house. Lewis seems to be embroidering an even darker blue into the body of it — delicate tiny flowers. Mick reaches out a hand, tracing one with his fingers.

“Yes,” Mick says. “I know.”

The firelight softens the line of Lewis’s face, rounding out the bags under his eyes, catching off the metal in his ears. There is a bruise along his left jaw, under his beard, old and green and yellow.

Mick was too young when the war came around years ago. He was not out on the battlefield, on the front lines or even in the camps. He had not seen Lewis’s wounds until they had long since healed. He knows all their stories only as just that. It is more than pleasant, he has found, to see the injuries that Lewis seems incapable of not collecting when they first appear, and even better, that they come from sparring and training now than anything more sinister.

“My father is asking for you. We have a visitor.” He watches Lewis’s eyebrows raise. “And I thought I had convinced you to start calling me Mick.”

He gestures at the empty room, at the closed door and darkened windows. “And we’re alone. As you asked.”

Lewis hums, pressing his lips together. “So we are.” And then he falls quiet. Mick has the suspicion that he is being laughed at.

He rolls his eyes, holding out a hand to help Lewis up. “Come. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Lewis grins when he takes it, a bite in the dark, fingers curling around Mick’s. He doesn’t stand up, bending his head over their hands, hair piled on the top of his head in elaborate braids, exposing the back of his neck in one long vulnerable line.

The scar on his throat wraps around from the front, ending in the nape of his neck, thick and white and shocking in the low light.

“As my prince wishes,” Lewis says again, quiet like he is saying something else, and his mouth presses quickly against the back of Mick’s hand, thumb digging into his palm.

Mick swallows, stomach swooping. He pulls his hand away, flicking Lewis on the forehead before moving away. Lewis laughs behind him, loud in the silent room, and Mick turns his back on him so he can smile.

Lewis catches up with him just barely out of the room, bumping his elbow with his, boots pulled on, shirt tucked in but rumpled, jacket open. There is a long knife strapped to his left thigh. He looks solid and broad, eyes still gentle with rest and warmth. The skin on his hand where Lewis kissed tingles. Mick hasn’t been able to stop smiling.

He catches Lewis’s gaze as he falls into step with him and Lewis’s grin grows with whatever he sees on Mick’s face. Mick has been thinking someday for a while now, around Lewis, and he is starting to think that, maybe if he plays this right, someday will become today.

—

Jenson gives Lewis a two-fingered sloppy salute when he sees him, shifting on his feet. Lewis exhales, raising one eyebrow. “I’d tell you to be at ease but,” he says, gesturing at Jenson’s casual stance and relaxed face. Jenson only grins, pushing the door open with his foot, winking at Mick as they pass.

Lewis laughs when he sees Bottas and barely hesitates before he’s crossing the room, throwing his arms around the other man, half lifting him off his feet. Bottas lets him, one hand cradling the back of Lewis’s head. He is careful not to touch the thick scar on his neck. He’s blushing faintly when Lewis releases him, the lines around his mouth tender. When they settle, Lewis still holding his elbow loosely, Bottas looks years younger, at ease for the first time since he arrived.

“I have your shield.” Lewis is grinning, all the exhaustion from earlier bled away. “It’s back in my quarters. I can go fetch it?”

Bottas shrugs and Mick notices how Sebastian’s shoulders loosen as he replies, “No need. I can pick it up in the morning.”

“You are staying then?” Lewis is watching him carefully, still smiling. Bottas looks at his dad then, head inclined in deference. “If you will have me.���

His dad waves a hand. “I told you. You are always welcome here. If not for what you did for Mika, then what you did for me. And besides, I would never hear the end of it from these two if I turned you away.”

Sebastian grins as Lewis rolls his eyes, tugging Bottas into one of the seats by the fire, glancing back at Mick as he goes.

“You’ve met?” Lewis asks Bottas who shakes his head, obviously amused. Sebastian drops onto the thick carpet before the fire, stretching out like a cat. “Prince Mick Schumacher,” Lewis says, waving his wrist with a grand flourish. “Son of King Michael and Queen Corinna Schumacher. Age twenty five, proficient in swordplay and hand-to-hand combat, likes reading and blueberry jam and ducking his guards.”

Mick laughs, stomach heating, and kicks at Lewis’s feet as he drops into the chair by Sebastian’s head. “Proficient?” Bottas looks like he’s biting back a smile. “That’s high praise, you know, coming from him. You must be very skilled.”

Mick shrugs, trying to swallow as his throat sticks dry and scratchy. “I have good teachers.” He resolutely ignores the look Sebastian throws him.

Lewis jerks back, twisting in his seat. “What is that supposed to mean – ‘coming from him’?” Bottas stares at him, opening his mouth but Lewis never gets to hear what it means because his dad interjects from across the room, seated back at his desk.

“Wait. Mick ducks his guards? Regularly?”

Lewis and Sebastian both turn the same unimpressed flat looks at their king, the movement fluid and so in tune with each other you would think they had practised it. “And where,” Sebastian starts, slowly. “Do you think he could’ve gotten that particular trait from?”

His dad falters, jaw working, and Mick turns away, hiding his smile. Lewis winks at him.

—

Jack is looking out the window, the low morning sun glinting off the steel of his armour, when Mick comes out of his room, pulling on his boots.

“Ready?” Mick asks, and Jack grins at him, popping a grape into his mouth. “Just waiting for you, Mickie.” He swipes another handle of fruit from Mick’s breakfast tray before side stepping him to get at the door first. He pauses, hand trapping Mick’s fingers on the handle, for just enough time for Mick to get irritated before swinging it open wide, forcing Mick to scramble back, nearly tripping over Jack’s feet.

Jack laughs behind him and Mick regrets the five months he spent pestering and petitioning his dad to allow Jack to be his sworn shield.

“I thought Guanyu was on shift this morning.”

Jack falls into step with him, one hand on the hilt of his sword, eyes alert for all that he’s still smiling. “You know, someone could think you are growing tired of my company. Not me, of course, I am well aware I’m your favourite, heavy burden that it is — you’re so clingy — but one could worry.”

Mick rolls his eyes, and frowns slightly. Jack’s hair is longer than he’s seen it in years, not by a lot, mind you, but just — longer. Jack hates when his hair is long, hates how hot it makes him, hates how it falls in his face. Mick presses his lips together, looking away. He wonders who has caught Jack’s eye, who he’s trying to impress.

“You’d do well to worry more,” Mick says and nearly walks into a visiting merchant coming their way as he avoids Jack’s ankle kick. Mick is red in the face when they continue on, trying not to smile, as Jack laughs beside him.

“Ah,” Jack says, smug and terrible, and Mick is definitely going to find out who Jack has become interested in now and be insufferable about it. “Lewis is already here before us. I’ll leave you to his very capable hands then.”

Mick gives in, shoving him away by the shoulders, which isn’t even as satisfying as it should’ve been because Jack, the arsehole, catches himself before he falls, cackling as he wanders away.

“Having fun?”

The circles under Lewis’s eyes aren’t any lighter in the morning light. Mick isn’t all that surprised. It had been late when he left Lewis and Sebastian to another one of Valtteri’s stories, laughing and fire warm and wine drunk, and they hadn’t seemed like they were stopping anytime soon. Still, Lewis looks good — happy, well rested.

“No,” Mick says, mouth twisting into a petulant frown. Lewis’s laugh is loud and when he throws Mick’s sword to him, metal bright in the sun, Mick catches it easily.

“Will you be at the feast tonight?” Mick asks, when it looks like Lewis will continue talking about Jack and him. Lewis grimaces, mouth twisting, and Mick walks into the ring, blinking against the sun, trying not to smile.

“Of course,” Lewis says, not bothering to hide his lack of excitement, settling his weight onto the balls of his feet, stance familiar. He holds his sword like it’s an extension of himself, like he barely even registers it as something other. Watching him and Sebastian fight always draws a crowd.

Mick shuffles over a few steps, Lewis following him, eyebrows raised, until the sun is at Mick’s back and in Lewis’s eyes. Mick grins at him. “You still owe me a dance.”

Lewis’s smile is a small and lovely thing. Mick can feel it in his belly, hot and sweet, filling him up. “So I do,” Lewis murmurs, and when Mick darts forward, Lewis is there with his sword raised to deflect him, eyes bright.

[fierypen37]

Prompt: Dany meets Night Watch Jon.

A Dragon or Three

Once, as Mance Rayder bore down on the Wall with the greatest army the north had ever seen, Jon had wished for a dragon or three. Now he watched from atop the Wall as a black dragon descended from the clouds like a god. The wind ran its icy fingers through his hair, a few strands flying loose from its tie to whip in his eyes. He was afraid to blink and miss seeing a living dragon dive from the perfect blue of the sky. Gorgeous beast. The powerful stroke of wings as large as ship sails, gleaming black. Here and there the sun caught a crimson streak. He squinted. A pale speck on the beast’s back. Daenerys Stormborn herself.

“Lord Commander, what would you like me to say to the Queen’s man?” Satin’s sweet voice broke his trance. The awe raising his soaring heart crashed down to the mundanities of running a castle. Far below, it was a seething anthill. Men running to and fro in preparation for Daenerys, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and her entourage.

“About what, Satin?” Jon asked, clenching and unclenching his fist around Longclaw’s hilt. Satin raked a hand through his springy curls and gestured to the mess below. Far beyond, he could see the queen’s men approaching from the kingsroad.

“About . . . this! Where are we going to house and feed all these people?” Satin asked. A knife thin smile touched his lips.

“We’ll figure that out. Come, let’s go down. There is much to do,” Jon said. Together they entered the winch-drawn cage and began the long descent down. Jon craned his head to watch the dragon’s descent. From the tail of his eye, he watched Satin’s eyes widen in tandem as the dragon grew closer. Bigger than an aurouch. Bigger than a mammoth. Bigger than the giants he’d seen north of the Wall. The dragon roared. The sound rattled in Jon’s ears, made the fine hairs on his body stand on end. A savage smile touched his lips. Any who heard that sound would tremble. Perhaps even a dead army.

Once again on solid ground, Jon sent Satin scurrying off on half a dozen errands. He settled his black cloak around his shoulders, the fine sable fur tickling the side of his neck. In deference to royalty, he dressed in his finest blacks. It was her laugh that greeted him first. A bright burst of sound. She was smaller than he’d pictured, the crown of her head coming to his collarbone. Windblown braids and cheeks pinked with cold, the curve of her smile struck him straight in the gut. A sharp, golden-eyed look from one of her women prompted the introduction.

“Queen Daenerys Stormborn of the Seven Kingdoms, may I present the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Jon Snow,” she said in a voice smoothed by some singing accent. Jon sank to one knee in the snow. He heard muted thuds as all of the brothers in earshot made their deference.

“The Wall is yours, Your Grace,” Jon said, charmed by the scuffed toes of her boots. Well-worn and oiled, it was obvious she preferred them to silk slippers. This one. This one could save them all—if she would only believe him.

“Rise, Jon Snow,” Daenerys said. Jon met her gaze, startled by how fucking beautiful she was. Too beautiful to be fully mortal.

“We have a feast prepared in the keep,” Jon said, offering his arm. Satin appeared at his elbow, breathless, and fell in with the queen’s entourage. A glance over his shoulder found among them squat man with black device on a grey-green field that he couldn’t place. A Reed? What was a Reed of Greywater Watch doing at the Wall? Queen Daenerys stole his attention by threading her arm through his elbow.

“We have much to discuss,” she said.       

[alidravana]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Ignoring the fact that I'm half an hour into Monday...here's my seven sentences (plus a couple more) to make up for it!

The last of the WIPs from our discord's flash fics:

Fuck, fuck, Mitchell swore under his breath as he limped towards the building, trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, even though all he wanted to do was collapse on the ground.  His vision blurred, and he couldn’t help the flinch at the explosion that went off behind him, even though he knew it was coming, he had been the one who set it.

They were slowly dismantling the remaining ATLAS labs, one by one.  It was a painful process, often requiring a full team of scientists, bomb disposal experts, and a team of soldiers; the bomb disposal experts to get them past all the booby traps, the scientists to confirm what was in the lab, and then the soldiers to get them in and out, all in one piece.   

Other than the occasional security guard, they normally didn’t see much in the way of other patrols or defense.  But as soon as they dropped into the lower levels of the building in Santorini, Mitchell had this sense that something was going to go wrong.  He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  There were no signs that anyone had been in the hallways recently, a layer of dust had settled on the floor, and that musty smell lingered.  

He even briefly checked on the comms, making sure that Gideon wasn’t seeing anything on his end; and everything was looking fine. 

Until it wasn’t. 

[gothamite-rambler]

Duke Thomas gets added to the payroll

Bruce Wayne (seeing Duke walk past his office): Duke.

Duke backwards walks to Bruce’s office.

Duke: Sup?

Bruce: Did you check your bank account? The direct deposit should’ve hit.

Duke: The what? Oh you were serious about that?

Bruce: Of course, you’re not only my son, but you do work for me and you deserve an income.

Duke: Thanks dude, but I can’t take your money I work at the library.

Bruce: Duke, trust me. You deserve this. I do it for all my kids… except Tim.

Duke: Why not Tim?

Bruce: Long story… he owns part of my company, plus he- he definitely embezzled a lot of my funds before I noticed so him working at my company is his paycheck.

Duke (alarmed): That was him?!

Bruce: Yeah, but that’s not important currently. You enjoy your first payhcheck and I’m proud of you.

Duke: Thanks man.

Duke leaves the office, checking his phone as he walks to his room. He nearly drops his phone seeing the four digits in his bank account that had five dollars in it three days ago.

Duke: Three- Three thousand dollars?! Whoooooooo! I’m eating good tonight! No wait, game stop here I come!

Duke runs out the house passing by Stephanie and Jason.

Duke: I can finally buy a PlayStation!

Jason: Wait until he finds out it’s a monthly payment.

Stephanie: I’ll tell him later. Want to go tell Tim about it?

Jason: 100% yes.

[movedtodykedvonte]

*Spidey and the Sinister Six having their usual fight*

Doc Ock, landing a hit: You’re getting slow Spider-Man! Age finally catching up to you?

Spider-Man: You wish! I haven’t even hit my 30s! From those costumes I can already tell I failed to save you guys from those midlife crises! Sorry by the way.

Vulture: Watch it wallcr- wait… Did you just say your not in your thirties yet?

Spider-Man: Surprised that this spiders so young and spry? Well-

Electro: Dude I’ve been fighting you for at least 5 fucking years! How old even are you?

Shocker, joking cause he’s the only one who picked up no grown adult acts likes Spidey: Don’t swear in-front of the boy you don’t want him to pick it up.

Rhino: Christ! You’re tellin me I almost crushed some 12-year-olds skull all those years ago?

Spider-Man, regretting his quipping: I was not that young! Like just starting freshman year but-

Sandman, horrified as he’s the only one with a kid and dad instincts(as of my iteration): I could’ve killed a kid…

Shocker, genuinely curious: Are you even old enough to drink? Cruel to kill a man who ain’t had his first drink yet.

Electro: Please tell us you’re at least over 25 as of this fight. Hell, I’ll take over 21!

Spider-Man:….

Sandman, realizing just how young he really is: Oh my god.

Spider-Man: My birthday’s coming up soon so I guess it counts?

Doc Ock, exacerbated: It. Does. Not!

Vulture: What would your mother think if she knew her son was out here risking his life telling poorly constructed jokes?

Spider-Man, offended cause it quips slap: 1. My jokes are great 2. She and my dad are dead so-

Sandman, hysterical cause holy shit he almost killed a kid orphan: OH MY GOD!

[dragonsbluee]

All of us gathering as ao3 goes down for the second day in a row.

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

So Dani has gotten captured by the GIW, and got reverted to her chronological age (7, she was 19 when she was captured. Team phantom was attending collage and couldn’t get to her in time)

Luckily, Bruce Wayne, training to be Batman, breaks into the Base and rescues her.

He invites her to joins him while traveling and she accepts. But, after a while Bruce heads back to Gotham and they part way. (Dani was 8). Dani was the kid he never had.

Dani visits whenever Bruce’s kids are all away, so she’s never meet them. And Bruce forgets to mention the fact that they all have an older sister (Bruce is her emergency guardian)

There are multiple ways the batkids can find out about Dani

“Bruce? I found your old video logs from when you trained to be Batman, and who’s the kid you’re with?”

“Oh that your sister. She’s dead”

———————

“All in favor for Phantasm the ghost girl to join the JLD?!”

“Superman, I thought I said that none of my kids will be joking the Justice League while I’m still alive.”

��She’s your kid? But she dead!”

———————

“BRUCE! I thought you said you were in Paris for a mission with a partner?”

“I was.”

“Then why is there a photo of you in a cafe with a women three years older than Dick?!”

“She was my partner.”

“Who is she?”

“She’s your sister, Duke.”

———————

“Oh no!? How do we defeat big bad ghost baddie?!?”

“Hn. I will call in an expert.”

“Batman, you know someone who is an expert with ghosts? Who is she?”

“My daughter.”

“Black Bat?”

“No, my other daughter.”

“Spoiler?”

“No. My oldest daughter.”

“Oracle?”

“No.”

“What other daughter do you have?”

“Dani. She’s dead.”

[incorrectbatfam]

Teen Titans first meeting except they independently get in trouble and are put in timeout in the same room at the Watchtower, Breakfast Club style

[tom-whore-dleston]

Bed Chem

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f. reader

Word Count: 541

This fic contains: smut, pwp, fwb dynamic, spanking, lingerie, Bucky has different sides in bed, light choking, hair pulling

Summary: Being fwb with Bucky has amazing benefits.

Notes: look, after the release of the teaser trailer of Thunderbolts*, I’ve been feral for Bucky okay 🫣 I couldn’t think of a good title for this fic so I settled for my fave Sabrina Carpenter song lol This is my submission for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt: Change in Tone.

You and Bucky had a different kind of relationship. You weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but you were both more than friends. For lack of a better term, you and Bucky were friends with benefits. And those benefits were the best terms you both agreed on.

Every time you had sex with Bucky, it was a different experience. Sometimes, his touches would be gentle and feather-like. Other times, his hands would be rougher and he’d grip you tighter in a possessive manner. Then, there was his voice. During his more tender moments, his voice was smooth like whiskey. On the flip side, when he was a little more aggressive with you, his voice was lower and animalistic. Bucky’s range in the bedroom taught you that sex wasn’t a performance but rather an experience. And each time you both ended speechless and satisfied.

In this current situation, you found yourself on all fours on top of Bucky’s bed wearing in a sheer lingerie one-piece. Bucky stood by the bed, admiring your backside with a smirk that you couldn’t see from your position, but could still sense. Bucky wore a crisp white shirt with the buttons done enough to get a peek of his chest hair and sculpted pecs. If you had seen how his sleeves were rolled enough to reveal his forearms, you would have melted into the bed sheets without him having to touch you.

You feel the bed creak under your hands and knees and suddenly Bucky’s bulge is right against your thigh. His fingers ghost above your spine, sending chills down to your cunt. Your breath hitched as you craved to feel his fingers down where your sensations were traveling to. All of a sudden, a hand crashes down on your ass, causing you to yelp in shock. Bucky chuckled, soothing the sting with his palm.

“Tell me what you want, darling, and I’ll give you that.” Bucky muttered, his lips dangerously close to your earlobe, his favorite part to tease.

“I want…you,” you gasped. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough for Bucky.

“How do you want it?” His vibranium hand sensually traces the curves of your body. “Do you want it soft and sweet?” He places a kiss on the back of your shoulder, causing you to smile and bite your lip. A moment later, that same hand yanks you by the hair, pressing your back flat against his chest. “Or would you like it hard and rough?”

You were unable to conjure words. Only a broken moan left your vocal cords. Bucky’s flesh hand cupped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. You gulped before Bucky smashed his lips against yours with fervor. His grip on your hair tightened as his teeth grazed your bottom lip. He let go of you once you attempted to grind against his hardness.

Bucky pushed you back down on the bed, your face in the pillow and your ass waving in the air. He unleashed a feral growl as he hurriedly unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down. The tip of his cock teased your entrance, making your voice drip with need like your pussy.

“I’ll give you what you want, darling, but I’ll give it to you how I want it.”

Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

[terracottakore]

in another life

[inspired from "wind back the clock" by @sarioh! i loved it so much that i felt like i just had to draw something for it TT (tysm for sharing your wonderful writing with us!!)]

+ still frames under the cut

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ seven word prompts for seven sentence fics 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

¹⁾ “really? i never knew that about you.”

²⁾ “come on, don’t pretend for my sake.”

³⁾ “looks like they left in a hurry.”

⁴⁾ “who’s calling you this late at night?”

⁵⁾ “seriously, were you dropped as a baby?!”

⁶⁾ “i could eat a horse.” “please don’t.”

⁷⁾ “ice cream? at three in the morning?”

⁸⁾ “get your ass here, right fucking now!”

⁹⁾ “i really did care about you, y’know.”

¹⁰⁾ “you’re not going home, you need stitches!”

¹¹⁾ “we need to get you warm, fast.”

¹²⁾ “how long have we been driving for?”

¹³⁾ “[name]- “ “don’t start. [boss]’s already deafened me.”¹⁾

¹⁴⁾ “what’s a single bed between three friends?”

¹⁵⁾ “why are you in just a towel?!”

¹⁶⁾ “i’m your bodyguard, not your damn friend.”

¹⁷⁾ “swallow your pride.” “i’d rather swallow concrete.”

¹⁸⁾ “you look really good in my money.”

¹⁹⁾ “i said i’d help. didn’t say how.”

²⁰⁾ “come, sit. i made you some dinner.”

²¹⁾ “hide! they’re coming your way, and fast!”

²²⁾ “i knew you had feelings for them.”

²³⁾ “you’re exhausted, pet. let me mind you.”

²⁴⁾ “[name]’s in the hospital. it’s not good.”

²⁵⁾ “but you promised it’d all be okay!”

²⁶⁾ “their cover’s been blown- get them out!”

²⁷⁾ “who’d buying you flowers that isn’t me?”

²⁸⁾ “i was stupid enough to believe you.”

²⁹⁾ “isn’t paying for dinner a date thing?”

³⁰⁾ “for you, i’d do anything.” “i know.”

[milflewis]

fran. my beloved. happy birthday and i love you and here is 1k of dantteri being stupid. hope you like it !!

“What the fuck.”

Valtteri looks up from two mueslis he was comparing trying to remember if Lewis said he wanted the one with raisins or without. Lila twists in her seat, curls bouncing, little hands grabbing at the shelves.

Valtteri reaches out, dropping the two boxes into the cart because who cares, whichever one Lewis doesn’t want, Valtteri or Sebastian will eat, and nudges it further away from the shelf of produce, out of Lila’s reach.

Daniel Ricciardo gapes at them from the end of the aisle, tanner than Valtteri saw him last, broader along the shoulders, shirt pulled tight, jeans low on his hips. Valtteri is reminded of the years that have passed since then, seven if one wanted to keep track, when he sees the grey creeping into his curls around his ears and across the hair on his jaw.

“Language,” Valtteri says, pushing the cart along and out of the aisle, fruit next on his list. Sebastian had sent him a google spreadsheet, colour coded and everything, because apparently all of Valtteri’s friends are freaks.

Lila laughs, grinning up at him, front tooth missing, “fuck!”

Valtteri winks at her, throwing a, “now look what you’ve done,” over his shoulder. Lila laughs again, she loves this game. She’s heard worse at home even though Lewis is denying to everyone, including himself, that he is not the reason she is constantly calling Alonso a cunt.

Daniel scrambles to catch up, eyes wide, basket swinging. “Hey, I, I didn’t mean — wait, is that Lewis and Seb’s kid?”

“No,” Valtteri says, drawing out the ‘o’ sound, rolling his eyes, though it’s very clear, even if Daniel wasn’t getting the annual Christmas cards of the Hamilton-Vettel/Vettel-Hamilton family, which Valtteri knows for a fact that he is, that Lila is Sebastian and Lewis’s daughter.

He hands her another piece of one of the brioches he’s buying and grins as she holds it in her hands, knuckles white, biting carefully around the edges before eating the middle. All Lewis she is and when she smiles at him, chocolate smeared in the corner of her mouth, saying, “thank you,” already holding out her hand for another piece, she’s all Sebastian.

He shakes his head and breaks off another one, “Last one.” She nods, not listening, Sebastian, watching Daniel nearly collide with another shopper because he’s too busy staring at them.

Valtteri pushes the trolley up against the stall, out of anyone’s way, and considers the food in front of him. “Apples or oranges?” he asks and Lila frowns back at him, still chewing.

Valtteri throws in some kiwis and a mango, grinning when Lila declares “bananas!”

“Bananas it is,” he says and runs a hand over her hair absentmindedly as he reaches past her to grab them. He can hear Daniel’s footsteps following them as he moves on, Lila trying to catch his open jacket with her feet. His stupidly bright shoes squeak along the floor.

“This is insane.”

Carrots. Celery. Kale. Potatoes.

Daniel has caught up to them now, half walking backwards so he can face him. Valtteri gives him another five minutes before he bumps into someone else. It is strange — what lingers, what sticks to him, after all these years — he can’t help, even now, to want to reach out and guide Daniel around, maybe knock him into a shelf but keep him from properly falling over.

Daniel’s eyes are staring at him, also familiar, dark and wide like he’s trying not to blink, like he can’t quite believe that Valtteri is in front of him, minding Lewis and Sebastian’s child. He swallows, once, twice, and then again, trying to get his throat to unstick.

Valtteri can count on one hand the amount of times he’s seen Lewis nervous, like, proper mouth biting, words tumbling over themselves nervous. He had to force himself to stand up straight at least twice, hands in his pockets, very deliberately looking Valtteri in the eye, four years ago, telling Valtteri that they had found an adoption agency that they were very happy with and that they, well, mostly Lewis but Seb too, were sort of, maybe, not that he has to, of course, but, like, if he wanted to, but no pressure, but Lewis wanted him to be the godfather.

Valtteri hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking why and Lewis, fuck, he had just glared at him, sharp and angry, like he had always done in those last few years, unable to let anyone get away with talking shit about Valtteri. Why not, he had pushed at him, nervousness all gone, why the fuck not. Valtteri had just shrugged, Lewis softening.

Because, he had grinned then, something soft and quick, smaller than Valtteri had seen aimed at him in years, everyone needs a VB in their lives and I want them to be loved, you know? And you — you’re pretty good at that, man.

Are you trying to bribe me into staying your friend now that we’re not racing together with a baby, Valtteri had asked just to watch Lewis laugh and he had never exactly said yes to Lewis’s question but they had never, not really, not where it mattered, needed words to talk.

It is remarkably easy to forget how much Lewis Hamilton loves you, for all that he is so very loud about it.

You’d be Uncle Dan if you’d stayed around, Valtteri thinks, making sure to grab both regular milk and oat milk from the fridge, Daniel’s eyes flickering around the shop and back to Valtteri, trying desperately not to stare at Lila, who’s back to knocking her feet against the trolley, laughing at the clink clink the lights on her runners make against the metal. Sebastian and Lewis would’ve never allowed it to be any other way.

Daniel has always been so good at making Valtteri feel small that sometimes, Valtteri forgets that he’s pretty good at doing the same thing to him.

New beginnings, Valtteri thinks and asks Daniel to get the orange juice, yeah, the one with bits, this one, yeah, nice to know Sebastian is still weird, from the cold shelf beside him. Valtteri can be kind to him again, he can do that, he can, and he tears another piece of brioche off, shaking his head as Lila lights up, tilting her head as she smiles at him, Lewis, Daniel laughing behind him, the sound just a little wet.

[simplyender]

Can you tell I've leveled up my game?

[jinxs-gf]

The Human Spider

The Team x Spider!Reader

summary: you are this universe’s one and only spider-person.

warnings/content: set before the 1st episode of young justice s1, a few marvel references, this whole thing is from the perspective of the reader who’s basically Spider-Man so the writing is a bit silly…but I like it

word count: 2.1k

a/n: this is essentially an introduction to this world, I’m really hoping I can pop a couple fics within this little universe 😭🙏🏽 if not then…I’m sorry LMAO. only time will tell. ENJOY!!!

Life was good.

I mean, how could it not be? You got to fight side by side with some of Earth's greatest heroes. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Flash...oh and Black Canary and—

Yeah. It was great. Not to mention how incredibly easy it was for you to defeat the bad guys you'd fought. You definitely didn't have four near death experiences because of them!

Well you did, but they were completely your fault and not at the hands of a couple of phony villains. They happened before you got used to your powers and gone through extensive training.

It seemed like a curse at first, but now you take them with stride. Your super strength foreign as you'd broke nearly everything in your apartment (that hadn't been a fun thing to explain to your Aunt and Uncle when they came home to a trashed place). Sticky hands well...getting stuck to literally everything. The amount of money you spent replacing your clothes after accidentally ripping up your whole closet only trying to get ready for school...that was also not fun explaining to your guardians.

And the webs. Oh boy. You didn't want to think about it. The hole in your wrist that shot out webs like a proper spider freaked you out the most. You nearly turned yourself in to the government after that one. It was something that took the most mental work to control, the weird hole (yuck) closing up when you didn't need it.

The one thing you did appreciate immediately was the abs. Yeah, those were nice to wake up to one morning.

Today was just another day in your life. A simple mission happening in the middle of the city. Actually it was a pretty unusual mission, it wasn't the regular Ice Family or Joker cult you were fighting...but a Rhino. Seemingly a man in a Rhino cosplay. And his henchmen? Definitely not something you see everyday, but you have seen weirder.

Speaking of his henchmen...there was a lot of them. Enough to keep each member of the team occupied. They had insanely advanced weaponry, surprisingly keeping the fight going for a while.

You hadn't realized so many of the guys were on you now, all surrounding you and trying to shoot at you with guns that weren't spitting out regular bullets.

You look to your side and see your best friend (he doesn't think so but that's what you tell everyone so deal with it sucker). Speedy, Green Arrow's sidekick, Roy Harper under the mask, and Pain in the Ass (a nickname you'd affectionately given him) to you.

You were in a compromising position, one that you could easily get yourself out of. But now you've spotted an unoccupied Roy and you wanted to have a little fun admist the chaos.

"Hey pain in my ass! A little help here!" The men were now taking shots with their fists, all failing to land their hits of course. And your best friend had completely ignored you.

"Hellooooo you know I'm talking to you!"

"I told you I wouldn't answer when you called me that. And I thought I made myself very clear." Definitely referring to the embarrassing way he took you down in front of the team after harassing him all week with the nickname a month ago.

"Well you answered right now soo...."

An arrow suddenly flew right past you, nearly grazing your cheek. A couple more followed.

"Um hello?! You nearly took me out!"

"That's my way of saying cut it out while saving your ass. And don't your spidey senses detect that kind of stuff? Danger and threats? You should've seen them coming."

"Huh. Guess you aren't as threatening as you think you are. At least not with that silly little hat on."

He simply glared at you. He was definitely going to kick your ass later. (Again).

With your guys dealt with, you turned to watch as Flash and Kid Flash emptied out a school bus on the road. Well, watched was a strong word. The job was done before you could fully process what was happening.

And suddenly that same school bus was being throw your way by the Rhino-man. Directly above your head actually.

Uh oh.

CRASH!

This was the third time that's happened to you this week!

He had good aim, you'll admit. It landed on you perfectly, but thanks to your incredible strength he seemingly didn't know about (how could he not? You're literally the Spider-Person from tv! Spider-Person...pfft what a stupid name. No one seemed to come up with something better), the biggest indicator to this being his shocked face. Oh how you loved that look. You threw it right back at him. Jokes on Rhino-man, you also had incredible aim.

"It's gonna take a lot more than a school bus to take me out!" Although you could feel the nearly broken rib and bruises you'd need to get checked out before you went home today.

You sighed happily, dusting your hands, "light work to me. Maybe try one of those city buses next time? Might be heavier and more effective-"

The words barely left your mouth before a city bus was being throw at you, "Wait I didn't actually mean it!" You caught the bus this time. And although your senses knew the danger was coming, it was still a bus that caught you off guard with its weight. Your legs and arms quivered at the force of having to hold it up, you could feel every bruise spotted on your body with the strain and it was not fun. While your body healed faster than the average human, it definitely wasn't fast enough to recover from the previous hit.

The back of the bus was fully tipped to the sky. You prayed there was no one in this thing. And sure you were strong, but there was no way you could tip it back on its wheels without potentially hurting someone.

Luckily Superman helped you with that, seeing you struggle. He easily took it off your hands (show off) and maneuvered it so it was placed safely back on the road.

"Thanks Supes!" He gave a nod and his famous smile.

It was only a couple more minutes of fighting and cars being thrown around before the whole thing was wrapped up. The adults would give their words to the police and news reporters, blah blah blah...

While they did that, you and your best friends, the teens (the cooler ones) got together like you always did after a mission.

Superman is being interviewed by the infamous Lois Lane (the talk of the teen team, there was definitely tension there).

All while Wally stands a little behind them making faces and ridiculous poses for the camera. The rest of you stood out of shot either cackling or rolling your eyes.

Wally steps back, clearly offended. "What? All he's doing is flirting with her in front of a live audience. Remember what they said last time? No one's gonna be paying attention to me."

Robin snickers, "What? The whole 'no one can take Superman' 'but you sure can'?" He repeats their words in poorly done impressions.

"That was totally an innuendo!"

"Very mature KF."

"Hey! Robin and Spider laughed with me. And I saw Speedy’s smirk, he sat there trying to pretend he didn't find it funny. Maybe you should get that stick out of your ass, Aqualad?"

Roy, completely serious, replies, "Now that's no way to talk to the adults' favorite."

You perk up, "oh, me?"

Your friends immediately explode into disagreement, apparently in disbelief you'd think such a thing.

It was a simple story, how it all came to be. You got bit by a spider (totally cool about it).

Totally didn't scream your ass off because of it and stay paranoid the rest of the day, constantly thinking there was a creepy crawler on you...no. You found out the next day that you weren't actually paranoid—if you were in the first place, which you were not! Because apparently the spider had camped out in your clothes all day and night...

You totally didn't scream your ass off again that morning at the revelation.

You did scream at the sight of abs on your body that same morning though. And that's the only reason you'll ever thank the spider, forget the cool powers.

After that you thought it would be cool to use your powers for good, inspired by your uncle. You decided to have your own cool hero costume, symbol, and name (which you still haven't gotten. You originally thought of the Human Spider. People on the streets called it dumb, claiming they would not be calling you that). You had (unfortunately) been (TEMPORARILY!) named the Spider-Person. Which was insanely stupid and you needed to come up with something quick before it stuck completely. Maybe the Human Spider wasn't so good but it wasn't as bad as your unofficial name now!

Anyways, as for the cool hero costume. You had to use what you had at the time, which was...your normal clothes. Getting a costume online seemed cheap, and dressing up as an existing character in the media and saving people seemed wrong. It would only deny your identity as a hero. So you put on whatever clothes (mostly colorful pajamas) that you had, covered the bottom half of your face with a bandanna, and called it a night. And boy did that get you a lot of ridicule, but you got the job done, right? The only thing it didn't do was protect your body from scrapes and...stab wounds. You hated little knives.

You're not the smartest in the world and it's not like you had the money someone like Bruce Wayne could pull out of their ass and make cool superhero wear.

Once you were recruited by Batman, he gave you your own hero costume—no, suit. Every suggestion you made was followed. It was perfect. The mask had to be your favorite part though. Something you didn't suggest was the some type of magic on it, something called hammerspace. Basically you could have any type of hair, or ears...probably even a pair of headphones on your head and it won't show through. It'll seemingly disappear to this hammerspace (you weren't sure how it worked exactly, but it works nonetheless so you won't question it). The magic was done by a team member who was needed very rarely named Zatara. Another man with a silly hat on his head.

You attempted to try it with Batman to see if his bat ears would disappear (which was completely encouraged by Robin by the way. No- completely his idea!) He was not happy. (You got benched for a month...no patrols, no missions...and Robin got off scott-free! How was that fair?!)

Wally starts to bring up your part of the fight, specifically the bus incident.

"Hey isn't that the third time that's happened to you this week?"

You sigh, exasperated and playing it up, "yes."

Robin butts in before you could say anything more, "Couldn't you have caught them? Y'know with your spidey senses and incredible strength?" He has the nastiest smirk on his face. His smartass totally figured you out.

"Well yeah, duh. But it's fun seeing the looks on the bad guys' faces when they realize I'm not dead and I can carry a however many pound bus! Is that so bad?"

"No but it's embarrassing for us."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Yeah, our best friend who's powers include crazy senses that gives them insane reflexes? That best friend can't catch a big, yellow bus being thrown at them? Embarrassing." The one time Roy will take the claim as your best friend is when he's insulting you? Unsurprising.

Kaldur cut in, sensing your defense a mile away, "It is pretty shameful of you."

Your jaw dropped, even Kaldur of all of people was agreeing? Oh this is insane!

You point a figure at your friends, trying to get your threat across, "Well I find that incredibly offensive and you should all take that back before I-"

"Isn't the point of your powers to detect danger before it comes? How come that's the third time this week you've been hit by a school bus? It's embarrassing, Spider." Batman's monotone voice made his words all the more insulting. Your frown deepened.

You sigh, "Yup. Real embarrassing for me. I got that."

"No, embarrassing for me. I've got a reputation to keep up."

He walks away without another word.

"I can't tell if he was trying to joke around like you guys were, but I'm still offended."

"He was being dead serious. And for the record, so were we."

I wrote this before I wrote my Conner fic. I just realized I made Batman tease reader at the end of both fics…??

[gothamite-rambler]

Bruce: You are grounded!

Jason (whole adult): You can't ground me!

Bruce: Grounded!

Jason: But I don't even live here!

Bruce turns Jason around and points to the stairs to his old room.

Bruce: The night, your room. Grounded!

Jason: This some bullshit!

Jason stomps upstairs and heads to his old room. A door slam is heard and then the sounds of random items being tossed around.

Bruce: He'll work it out his system. I'm going to bed.

Dick (looking at Tim confused and then Bruce as the man heads upstairs): Did you just ground a 23 year old?

Tim: And did it work?

Bruce: You forget I'm Batman.