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jangofctts · 4 years ago

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Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace.

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy.

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.”

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it.

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.”

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.”

You smile. “Lovely.”

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.

-=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality.

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.”

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home.

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare.

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement.

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.”

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors.

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.”

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot.

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away.

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle.

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder.

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.”

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.”

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat.

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder.

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind.

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile.

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll.

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak.

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement.

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses.

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short.

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more.

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains.

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself.

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist. Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes.

Fuck yeah.

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock.

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh.

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge.

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.”

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation.

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.”

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark.

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now.

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs.

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question.

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command.

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff.

Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight.

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you.

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.”

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs.

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days.

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs.

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much.

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.”

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.”

There we go.

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes.

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness.

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile.

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep.

taglist: @goldafterglow @djxrxn @velvetmel0n @steeeeeeeviebb @stargazingcarol @ohiobluetip @anxiety-riddled-mando @absurdthirst @thesoftdumbass @huliabitch @max--phillips @silverfish-kingdom @krissology @teaofpeaches @pettyprocrastination @nelba @beskars @jango-fettish @corrupt-fvcker @maybege @auty-ren @legally-a-bastard @bigdickdindjarin @thesparkleslugs @cryptid-candy @mandowhorian @pascaliprincess @mitchi-c @vesperstalksclones @cmakars @cptnbvcks @whewchiles @leias-left-hair-bun @astrochellie @angryares @rise-my-angel @stardust-galaxies @phoenixhalliwell @samhollandssweaters @blue-writes-a03 @hdlynnslibrary @darthadeline @calamity-queen @luxurybeskar @justanotherblonde23 @book-hoardingdragon @fahrenheit-not @princessxkenobi @skdubbs @ben-is-a-hoe @3strogen @chasingdreamer @weebblossom @bobaandthefetts

sorry if I missed you AH!!!!

#well yall im #bucket fucker supreme right here I guess #enJOY #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #boba fett x reader x din djarin #din djarin x reader x boba fett #star wars fanfiction #my writing

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oikawaplssteponme · 4 years ago

Text

The Apartment: part 6

▪️for parts 1-5, click here

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x fem! reader

rating/warnings: swearing, like 2 seconds of angst (?), implying ✨spicy✨ things (but nothing happens/happened)

synopsis: You knew that living with your three best friends, Kuroo, Oikawa, and Bokuto, would be a wild ride. It’s never a dull moment with those three. Let’s just hope you can keep your huge crush on Kuroo a secret when he is only a room away.

a/n: HI HI💕! omg i loved seeing everyone’s reactions to part 5 (i didn’t plan for it to be as angsty as it was oops) so i wanted to get part 6 out asap! thanks again for all the love in this, it means a lot :)) as always, my inbox is open for anything and everything so don’t be shy to come say hi or request something💛 and lmk if you’d like to be added to the taglist :)) okay enjoy xx

•

Six: little black dress

No surprise that you got zero sleep that night. Your brain wouldn’t shut off. The idea that Calie could be doing something with Kuroo made your stomach ache. She could be in his room right now, doing god only know what. It was awful.

The morning sunlight came peaking through the window of your bedroom. You laid in your bed, bundled up with the endless amounts of blankets you had. You knew you should probably get up. You had a class at 1pm. You checked your phone and saw that it was close to 12pm. You sighed and got up from your bed, heading straight to the bathroom.

You brushed your teeth and splashed some cold water on your face. Your eyes were still a little puffy from the tears you shed the night before. You left the bathroom and saw that Kuroo was already up.

“Good morning,” he smiled. Kuroo was already making breakfast. He wore nothing but a pair of shorts.

“Hi,” you muttered. You sat down at the counter.

“How’d you sleep?” He asked. Really?

“Like hell,” you said. Kuroo frowned.

“Oh I’m sorry. Here, I made you some coffee.” He handed you a warm mug.

“Thanks. How did you sleep?” You asked, unsure if you really wanted the answer. Kuroo placed a plate of food in front of you.

“Really well actually. I was super tired,” he explained. Hmm wonder why?

“Oh, that’s good at least,” you whispered. You weren’t hungry, you kinda picked at your food.

“Is Calie still here?” You blurted out. Kuroo gave you a confused look.

“No, of course not. She only stayed until her apartment cleared up,” he explained.

“So nothing happened between you two?” you asked, still unsatisfied with his first answer.

“What do you mean?” He questioned. You sighed.

“For being one of the smartest people I know, you can be really stupid sometimes,” you huffed. Kuroo rolled his eyes.

“Well if you’re asking what I think you’re asking, the answer is no,” he said. You groaned.

“Sure…”

“I’m serious.”

“Whatever. I’m gonna go,” you said, getting up from your seat. You walked over to your room and grabbed your jacket and shoes. Kuroo followed.

“I’m sorry, are you mad at me?”

“No no, Kuroo, why on earth would I be mad at you?” You said sarcastically.

“Okay well if you’re leaving then I’m coming with you.”

“No, I wanna be alone.”

“Do you wanna be alone or do you just not want to be with me?”

“Isn’t that the same fucking thing?” You grabbed your backpack.

“Y/N, what's going on? Talk to me,” Kuroo reached for your hand but you swatted him away.

“I don’t want to Kuroo,” you grabbed the front door knob, “if you want someone to talk to, go talk to Calie.” You slammed the door behind you and left.

You hated fighting with Kuroo. You rarely did, so it especially hurt when you two argued. You sat outside of your campus library on a bench. Kuroo left you a couple phone calls but you didn’t answer. You tried calling Oikawa but it went straight to voicemail. You then decided to call Bokuto.

“Y/N-CHAN HEY HEY HEY!”

“Hi Bo..”

“Woah there, why the sad tone?”

You sniffled into the phone.

“I kinda lashed out on Kuroo for last night…”

“Oh no...Oikawa told me what happened with that girl...I’m really sorry. What did you tell Kuroo?”

“I just got pissed off at him for bringing that bitch over and I just have that horrible gut feeling that he likes her and I know I shouldn’t have yelled at him but I’m just so upset. Like why do I have to like him if he’s just never gonna pick me?”

“Listen Y/N, Kuroo and that girl could just be friends. Kuroo could like you, but is just really bad at showing it. He’s an idiot.”

You sighed.

“Yeah I know. I just...god, why didn’t I just tell him when I had the chance?”

“You’ll get your chance, I just know it! Keep your head up. And when Oikawa and I get back, we can deal with Kuroo.”

You chucked.

“Thanks Bokuto. Well, sorry for bothering you,”

“You never bother me. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay I will, love you.”

“Love you too.”

You ended your call with Bokuto, feeling a bit better. You sniffled, wiping away the few tears still on your cheeks. You soon realized that you were still in your pajamas and people were staring. Great.

“H-hey…” a voice said. You turned around to see Kuroo, holding out a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants for you.

“You left with your pajamas on. And it’s too cold to be wearing shorts,” he smiled, handing you the clothes. Your cheeks went warm. You got up from the bench and grabbed Kuroo, pulling him into a hug. He let out a sigh of relief, holding you tightly. You could never stay mad at him, after all, you loved him.

“I’m sorry for getting mad at you,” you muffled out, as your face was pressed against his chest.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for ditching you last night, it was stupid and I shouldn’t have,” he said. You looked up at him.

“Yeah it was stupid,” you joked, playfully hitting his arm.

“Can I make it up to you?” He asked.

“How so?”

“Well, for starters, ditch class?” he proposed. You gasped.

“Kuroo Tetsurou wants to ditch class? Who are you and where is my nerdy best friend?” Kuroo laughed.

“I know I know but you’re worth ditching class for,” he smiled. You felt butterflies in your stomach.

“Fine, you can make it up to me,” you said. Kuroo smiled.

“Can you answer this for me though?” You asked. He nodded.

“Um- is there actually nothing going on between you and Calie?”

Kuroo sighed.

Could you be any more obvious that you liked him?

“No Y/N, absolutely nothing. I think Calie’s girlfriend would be shocked if there was,” he said. Your jaw dropped.

“SHE HAS A GIRLFRIEND?!”

“Yeah, her name is AJ, she’s super nice.” You felt so embarrassed.

“Oh my fucking god…” you burried your face in your hands. Kuroo laughed.

“Yup, Calie and I are just friends,” he said, “anyway, kinda got my eyes on someone else.” Your eyes grew.

“Wait what?”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“Kuroo what did you just-“

“Come on Y/N, I have a plan for us today!” Kuroo grabbed your hand and led you back to the apartment.

You and Kuroo spent your afternoon watching old movies and munching on whatever snacks you had around the apartment. Back in high school, you and Kuroo would often have movie nights together. Whenever one of you wasn’t doing their best, the other would be at the door with a movie to help. You loved that tradition with Kuroo.

You sat on the couch next to Kuroo as the credits of ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ played. You probably watched a total of 4 movies, bringing the time of day close to 7pm.

“I think that’s enough for watching movies,” you said, stretching your back from sitting for so long.

“Good thing I’ve got another idea,” smirked Kuroo. You raised a brow.

“And what might that be?”

“We are going out!”

“Out?”

“Yes, out! So Y/N-Chan, go get yourself prettied up and get ready for a night on the town!” cheered Kuroo. You laughed.

“Kuroo it’s a Tuesday. I’m not sure how much fun we’ll be having.”

“Don’t doubt me. I know where to go for a night like this. Now go get ready!” Kuroo pulled you up from the couch and led you to your room.

“Oh and wear a dress,” he smirked. Kuroo left you to go get himself ready.

Is this this horrible way of asking me out? No, can’t be.

*BUZZ*

You reached for your phone, seeing it was a call from Oikawa.

“Hi shitty-”

“PUT KUROO ON THE PHONE NOW SO I CAN VERBALLY BEAT HIS ASS-”

“Oikawa calm down-”

“AND DONT EVEN GET MY STARTED ON THAT BITCH CALZONE OR WHATEVER HER NAME IS-”

“Toru please-”

“DONT WORRY Y/N, I MANIFESTED THAT SHE WILL BITE INTO A TORTILLA CHIP AND THAT IT STABS HER CHEEK! THE WORST TYPE OF PAIN!”

“Oikawa?” You groaned.

“Okay I’m finished. Yes?”

“She’s gay.”

“SHE’S GAY?”

“Yes she’s gay. She has a girlfriend. I overreacted, her and Kuroo are just friends,” you explained finally. Oikawa went silent on the other line.

“Well that’s awkward... I had a brilliant revenge plan.”

“You’ll have to save it then.”

“BUT HEY that’s good!!”

“Yeah, he’s actually gonna take me out right now.”

“LIKE ON A DATE?”

“Uh I’m honestly not sure...I don’t think so at least.”

“Well regardless, do your best to seduce him.”

“Toru please-”

“Okay okay I’ll stop. Keep me posted!”

“I will.”

“BYE Y/N!”

“Bye shittykawa.”

“You really have to be nicer to me-”

You hung up on Oikawa before he could finish. You saw a text from him.

you suck -sent 7:24pm

You laughed and set your phone down to get ready.

You scrambled through your closet for a dress. You didn’t want to wear the same one you wore to the party those weeks ago. You scanned through your clothes before finding a little black dress in the back of your closet. It still had the tags on it. Oikawa had bought it for you for your birthday last year, saying everyone needs a little black dress in their wardrobe. You never got around to wearing it.

You set the dress on your bed and went to take a quick bath. After you dried off, you began to put on some makeup and slipped the dress on. You looked at yourself in the mirror. The dress fit you beautifully. You felt beautiful. You slipped on some heels, no matter how unstable you walked in them.

“Ready to go…” Kuroo stood in your doorway, nicely dressed. His voice trailed off as he looked at you.

“Do I look okay,” you asked. Kuroo licked his lips subtly.

“Uh yeah you look more than okay…” he said, still staring. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks.

“Well, where are we going?” Kuroo smiled and reached out his hand.

“What’s a good time without a little dancing?”

•

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bella-spil · 4 years ago

Text

The Game

You and the rest of the Avengers play Cards Against Humanity.

Female reader.

Warnings: TONS of adult topics, TONS of cursing, a little bit of fluff (Don't read if you don't like adult topics)

Word count: 6.2k (sry that this is a longer one!)

A/N: sorry this took so long. I had it saved as a draft, but then my account logged out and I had to retype the whole thing. I hope you like it!!!!

@wednesday-add-em @angrythingstarlight if you wanna be tagged lmk.

"What game would that be, Parker?" Nat asked, suspicious.

"You'll find out if you chose to play," Peter declared.

As everyone else in the room started to wonder what "game" Peter was referring to, you Bucky and Sam were grinning at each other, knowing exactly what's gonna happen. You start daydreaming all the possibilities that might happen, from funny scenarios in the cards to people arguing about who won. They all seem great, but you knew it would be better once everyone would start playing.

"Actually," Wanda announced, getting up from her seat. "I'm pretty tired from the mission and the jet lag. I'm gonna call it a night."

"I am quite exhausted as well," Vision said, pushing his seat in. "I need a rest as well. Goodnight everyone."

"Congrats Y/N and Bucky!" Wanda shouted before she left the room, with Visions hand in hers.

"Wait, how can the android be tired?" Clint asked. Then everyone in the room knew what the two avengers were going to be doing tonight.

"WE KNOW YOU TWO ARE GOING TO FUCK TONIGHT!!!" Tony screamed at them. Wanda heard Tony and flipped him off, still walking to her room with Vision. Everyone at the table was laughing from Tonys antics, but you knew everyone might lose their voices by the end of tonight.

"So," Peter interrupted the laughing. "Is anyone else going to leave to fuck?"

All the avengers look at one another, seeing if anyone else would dare to get up from the table. Nobody made a move, except for Steve who just squirmed in his seat, knowing he wasnt going to leave for fucking. He wasn't the best in moments where there was something inappropriate involved, but he had a feeling that's what tonight would be full of. So he decided to man up and stand his ground.

"I dont think Im gonna fuck anybody tonight, unless Nat says so," Sam acknowledged. Nat rolled her eyes at him and kicked him underneath the table. Sam shifted in his seat, tears building up like a bomb about to explode. Nat smiled to herself, not letting anyone get suspicious of her in any way.

"Lets go kid," Tony said.

"Alright then," Peter smiled. "Everyone, follow me."

Everyone followed Peter and got up from the table. As they were following Peter, some of the avengers were whispering to one another. They had no clue about what was happening, which made everything more exciting. As they made their way to the living room, the game was already set up by Peter. The cards were arranged neatly onto the coffee table into piles with little tags on top of them so everyone knew what they were for. You patted Peter on the back to show how thankful you were for him.

He smiled back at you and whispered, "You owe me for this."

Then you glared at him and lit your hand on fire and shoved it in Peter's face.

"No, I don't think I do," you replied, smugly. Peter gulped and inches away from you, not wanting to have his ass kicked before the game even started. As you and Peter were bickering, the others behind you, except for Bucky, realized what the game was. You could hear sighs of realization behind you and internally grinned. You knew keeping them guessing would pay off in the long run.

"Oh, so we are playing this game?" Tony chuckled.

"Now I know why you and Parker were acting weird." Nat said, smiling at you.

"Told you you'd find out." you said.

"Ok are we playing in teams or going rogue?" Clint asked.

"In teams," Peter answered. "Me and y/n already came up with teams of two and team names."

"Oh god," Clint and Nat sigh while Tony is rolling his eyes. Sam snickers, thinking team names are for little kids but Steve is looking at the cards, not knowing what they are.

"Wait, guys. What is this game?" Steve questioned. Everyone rolls their eyes at him and sighs. Steve was very outdated, and even though he has been in modern times for about a decade now, he still had a ton of catching up to do.

"What?" Steve groaned. "Ive been frozen for 70 years. Give me a break!"

"Steve, you're not the only one that's a bit outdated. You have had a few more years to catch up then I have and I still know what this is." Bucky protested, earning a snicker from everyone else on the team while Steve rolled his eyes and lightly punched Bucky in the arm.

"Mr. Rogers," F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimed in. "Do you know the game Apples to Apples?"

"Yeah why?" Steve asked the A.I.

"Well, Cards Against Humanity is basically that game. The only difference is that Cards Against Humanity is for a more mature audience."

"That's a good way of putting it," Tony mocked.

"Ok thank you F.R.I.D.A.Y.," Steve said. "I'm all good now."

"C'mon guys what are the teams?" Clint asked, getting impatient.

"I hope I'm with Nat." Sam whispered, glancing at Nat once again. Sam winked at her, but she punched him in the arm. Nat liked using physical violence, but only went necessary, or if someone was annoying her, like Sam. Everyone chuckled, but then they drew their attention back to Peter, who was waiting to announce the teams.

"Ok, first is me and Mr. Stark." Peter announced. "We are the Student and Master."

"Kid, if we lose, I will take your suit away for a week." Tony declared as he high fived Peter. Peter gulped and took a seat with Tony around the table. Everyone else was standing up, waiting to hear their name be called.

"Then, we have Steve and Nat, the Spys." you said. Steve and Nat smiled at each other and sat down in front of Tony and Peter. Sam, however, was not impressed and his mouth was to the floor.

"Are you kidding me? Sam shrieked. "You put Star Spangled Banner with Nat?"

"The teams were already made," you shrugged. "If you wanted to be with her so badly, you should have made a request."

"I hate you," Sam retorted. "I hope i'm not with the Wiener Soldier over there."

"Shut it Pigeon," Bucky snapped. You rolled your eyes at the two of them, who were still throwing looks at each other like they were elementary school kids that got into an argument.

"Then me and Bucky are together," you said, taking a seat with the Winter Soldier on the right of Steve and Nat. Everyone made kissy noises and ooed at the two of you as you sat down.

"Wait you forgot the team name!" Clint remembered. You sighed before saying the embarrassing name.

"I didn't come up with the names, Peter did," you said, singling Peter out. "We are the Lovebirds." After you said the team name, everyone continued their antics of making kissing noises and everything else.

"Guess we are together, Clint," Sam realized, since Clint and himself were the last two people standing up. They took their seats on the left of Steve and Nat, making themselves directly across from you and Bucky. It seemed as if they did it on purpose, but you didn't care about that. You were waiting for their reaction to their team name.

"Y/N, what's their team name?" Nat asked. You and Bucky looked at each other, giggling like 5 year olds.

"Peter, would you like to do the honors?" you asked.

Peter sighed, knowing this would end up good, but continued anyway. "The Birdbrains." Everyone started howling in laughter. Sam and Clint looked at each other, then back at Peter, ready to pounce on him like lions.

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!!!!" Sam shouted, running after Peter with Clint following suit. Due to his Spidey Sense, Peter was able to dodge the two of them and ran out of the room, followed by an angry Sam and Clint. Steve and Tony ran after them, trying to get the Birdbrains to come to their senses. You and Nat rolled your eyes at each other while Bucky was sitting there chucking.

"Ugh, men," Nat sighed.

You giggled as the five men took their seats. Sam was still annoyed, smoke coming out of his ears. Clint seemed ok, he looked like he enjoyed running after Peter. Peter was laughing, not trying to be rude, but he was trying to control himself.

"Im gonna kill you," Sam said.

"Sure Birdbrain," Peter smirks.

As everyone gets the laughter out of their systems before the game starts, each team picks seven white cards from the pile. Each team read their cards, giggling at some of them and having to hold in a cackle for others.

"Ok who is going to be the judges first?" Steve asked.

"I mean Y/N and Bucky," Nat responded as if it was obvious. "It's only fair that they go first."

"Ok then," you said, grabbing the first black card of the night. You grabbed the card and read it, and then you started laughing and showed it to Bucky. He laughed as well and the both of you were able to regain your senses to read the card.

"Bucky you wanna read it?" you ask, still smiling.

"Sure," Bucky replied. He cleared his throat before going on to read the card. "Fun tip! When your man asks you to go down on him, try surprising him with ______."

Everyone started to laugh again. But then, everyone's mode shifted from having fun to competition mode. Everyone in the Avengers hated losing anything and tonight was no exception. Each team was in deep discussion with their partners, deciding which card was the best to win the round. After a couple of minutes, each team put their cards in the middle for you and Bucky to read.

"Ok," Bucky cleared his throat again. "Fun tip! When your man asks you to go down on him, try surprising him with..." He stopped to read the first white card. "Drowning kids in the bathtub! Holy shit!" Everyone started laughing, including you. That card was very dark, and very funny.

"When your man asks you to go down on him, try surprising him with… an erection that lasts longer than 4 hours." Everyone lightly chuckled at this one, it wasn't as funny as the first card.

"Lastly, when your man asks you to go down on him, try surprising him with… explaining how viaginas work. Ok this one works for Steve 100%!" Everyone laughed and agreed with Bucky. Steve was smiling, not laughing. He was trying to not show how true that was but it wasn't working out that well for him.

Then you and Bucky turned to one another and discussed who won this round. You whispered for about less than a minute, since there was an obvious winner. Then you and Bucky turned around to the three teams and announced your decision.

"Drowning kids in the bathtub wins!" you declare. Then Peter and Tony cheer and high five each other.

"We did it!" Peter cheered.

"Got ya, suckers!" Tony bragged.

"Wait, how many black cards do you need to win?" Clint asked. You looked at Peter, who shrugged. It was a very good question, and you needed a minute to think about it.

"How about the first team with 10 black cards wins?" you ask. Everyone nodded and the game resumed.

"Ok, Peter, Tony, you judge." Bucky said.

Tony reached up to grab the card. As he read it, he kept snickering. When he finished, he showed Peter the card as he leaned into Peter's shoulder for support. Peter was chuckling as well and leaned on Tony's head. As far as you knew, Tony was very tough with Peter, but now, seeing them all cuddled up together laughing, it proved y9ou very wrong. It took you by surprise, but you loved how cute they were together. Tony was the father figure in Peter's life that he needed, and he was that figure for you as well.

"You wanna read it, Peter?" Tony asked.

"Sure," Peter said. "When I was tripping on acid, ______ turned into ________." Everyone chuckled at how ridiculous the card sounded and started to choose their cards for the round.

"Wait, how will you guys know which card goes first?" Steve asked.

"Put the first card on the top and the second one on the bottom." Peter replied. Steve gave him a thumbs up and continued talking with Nat.

As everyone was choosing their cards, you and Bucky were doing the exact same thing. But in the middle of it, Bucky called you "doll." Normally there's nothing wrong with this, it was something he called you since the two of you met. But Sam was in the room. And he heard it. After Bucky said it, Sam started cackling like a witch. He was rolled over on the floor, clutching to his stomach and tears covering his face. Everyone else looked up and wondered what in the world was so funny, since none of them heard Bucky's nickname for you. You didn't know why he was laughing, but Bucky knew the exact reason. He wasn't going to say anything to draw attention to himself or you. Instead he just gave a death stare at Sam, and nobody noticed.

"Partner, you good down there?" Clint asked, confused. Sam was still laughing as he got up from the floor.

"Yeah," Sam coughed. After he caught his breath, he saw Bucky glaring at him. He waved at Bucky, like he had no clue what he did. When your head was looking at the cards, he flipped Sam off and Sam stuck his tongue out and put his finger by his throat, signaling that Bucky would get it later. Bucky rolled his eyes and returned his attention back to you and the game.

After a couple minutes, three cards were placed in the middle, ready to be read by the Student and Master.

"Everyone hush!!! Tony scolded, and everyone in the room immediately shut up. "Thank you. Kid, you may read the first card."

"Thanks Mr. Stark," Peter said. "When I was tripping on acid, Danny DeVito turned into pixelated bukkake! Oh my god! What the FUCK?" Everyone was clutching on the remaining air that was left in their lungs. All of the teams were laughing to the point where faces were turning purple.

"What does that mean?" Steve quietly asked, not wanting a lecture about how pure he was. But everyone heard since the laughter was dying down, but it resumed once more after what Steve said. It took another couple of minutes for everyone to control themselves again.

"I'll explain later, Steve." Sam reassured. Steve rolled his eyes and let Tony and Peter continue.

"Ok, when I was tripping on acid, blowing my boyfriend so hard he shits turned into incest." Peter continued. He laughed at the end and everyone joined him.

"My turn, shut up!!" Tony barked. "Ahem. When I was tripping on acid, my sex life turned into..." Tony never finished reading the card. His eyes were glued to the last white card. It was like he did not comprehend what was on the card.

"Am I- am I reading this right?" he asked Peter. Peter took a look at the card and he snorted.

"Yeah.. yeah." Peter snickered. "You are reading that right, Mr. Stark."

"Ok I just wanted to make sure i'm not getting too old." Tony said. "When I was tripping on acid, my sex life turned into braiding three penises into a twizzler. Alright, who the fuck thinks this is ok?"

Everyone was cackling and laughing again. Tony was ranting on about how obscene the card was and how that would never work in real life, which was making it harder to stop laughing. Once Tony was finished complaining and asking F.R.I.D.A.Y. if the card was able to actually happen, the laugher subsided and Tony and Peter started deliberating. They took longer than you and Bucky, which made it seem as if it was a close round. Finally, Peter stood up and revealed the winning card.

"Before I announce the winning card, I have a question for Mr. Rogers." Peter announced.

"Sure, Peter. Whats up?" Steve asked.

"Did you understand what the last card meant?" Peter asked. Everyone chuckled lightly. Not that it wasn't funny. Everyone knew if they laughed too hard, they would have a hard time breathing.

Steve rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically before answering the question. "Yes. I understood that reference."

Bucky stood up and started applauding for Steve. He was joined by you, Nat, Tony and the Birdbrains. Steve stood up and took a bow, thanking everyone and waving like a celebrity.

"Thank god you did," Nat sighed in relief.

"Finally, you get something!" Bucky rejoiced.

"This was a close one but the sex life one wins for sure!" Peter said.

Clint and Sam got up again and started to cheer, high fiving and chest bumping. They even did some weird thing that was supposed to be a bird call, since they were the Birdbrains. To you, it sounded like a cat dying in an alleyway from food poisoning. Once they finished their bird call, the Birdbrains sat down and bragged about their first win of the night.

"Yeah yeah! Deal wit dat!" Sam yelled.

"Losers!" Clint cheered, making an "L" with his hand and putting it on his forehead.

"We will see who has the last laugh," Nat grunted.

"Birdbrains!" you chimed in.

"Shut it Lovebirds!" Sam shouted back at the two of you. He went to pick up the next black card. Bucky looked around the room, not knowing why he was blamed and not Nat. Nat smirked at Bucky and Bucky just rolled his eyes. You giggled while Bucky stuck the middle finger back at Sam, for the like the 100th time tonight.

Sam and Clint read the card and started to laugh again, but it wasn't a big one, just a chuckle.

"Hehe. Shut it Clint. I gotta read the card!" Sam scolded. Clint stopped laughing, but his face looked like it was about to explode any minute now as Sam started to read the card.

"White people like _____" Sam read. Everyone giggled and went back to their groups to decide which card would be the best. In a few minutes, each team was ready and placed their cards in the middle.

"We got this one Steve." Nat said.

"Yeah, Nat. Lets go!" Steve cheered as he high fived his partner.

"No, Spys," Tony sighed. "We do because we are the best. No questions needed to be asked. Right kid?"

"Yes sir!" Peter joined in. The two of them fist bumped and made faces at the Spys and Lovebirds.

"Oh be quiet," Bucky sighed. "Let the stupid Birdbrains read the fucking cards." You smiled as Bucky held his arm around you a little tighter than before. You knew Bucky wasn't the most patient person, and it seemed like the Birdbrains were taking as long as possible just to annoy your boyfriend. You knew you would win in the end though. And if you didn't, the Winter Soldier would kick their asses to their graves.

"Thank you. Ahem," Sam cleared his throat. "White people like jerking off into a pool of children's tears. Holy fuck." Everyone laughed at the card, just like all the others before it.

"That's my kind of humor. Continue Sam." Clint chuckled. You knew Clint had a very different sense of humor than most of the people at the Compound. You had become friends with him by understanding his jokes that nobody else understood. Even Peter was able to understand some of Clint humor, which was a shocker to everyone. Clint enjoyed having someone that understood him, even if it was for jokes about drowning kids.

"Next, white people like.." Sam never finished reading the card. He shoved the card in Clints face and walked out of the room to get a breath of fresh air. Clint looked at everyone to see if they knew why he walked out, but you and everyone else were just as lost. Then Clint looked at the card and had an "aha" moment.

"White people like a falcon with a cap on its head." Clint finished. Everyone knew the card wasn't funny. But since Sam's superhero name was "Falcon," it seemed so funny. Bucky was trying very hard not to laugh and so were Steve, Nat and Clint. Peter was about to laugh, but Tony was able to cover Peter's mouth in time. Tony raised his free hand to his mouth, making a "shush" motion. You were sitting there, smirking to yourself since you knew it wasn't the right time to laugh.

Then Sam came back into the room after a couple of minutes. He was clearly upset of something so stupid, which made it even harder not to laugh. Sam was staring at you and Bucky, thinking it was the two of you since Bucky and him were friends, but not really. Sam was eyeing everyone in the room like a hawk, trying to see if anyone had changed their facial expression or something else.

"Sam, you wanna read the last card?" Clint asked.

"No," Sam stated, bluntly. "You read it."

"White people like three dicks at the same time." Clint finished with a light chuckle, and all the other teams followed suit.

"Ok, drowning kids in the bathtub wins." Clint decided, without having to deliberate.

"Agreed." Sam said.

Bucky picked you up in the air and spun you around. He hugged you so tight, you had to tap him so you could breath. As you and Bucky bask in your victory, Sam is still looking at the Student and Master and the Spies. He was being a detective, looking for little details that might lead him to the culprits that put that card down.

"Who put the fucking card down?" Sam asked. All of the sudden, Tony and Peter start laughing out of control. Sam knew those two were the criminals in his crime. He took a deep breath, trying his best not to go over and take Peter down to the ground.

"Im gonna kill you." Sam growled.

"Save it Birdbrain," Nat told off. "First team to ten. Then you can kill them."

"You bet yo ass I will," Sam grunted.

~~~

The rest of the night carried on in a flash. The night was filled with laughter, smiles and cheers as each team won a round. When you started playing, it was around 8:30 pm. But now, it was 11:50 pm. Everyone was definitely tired, as everyone started to yawn and get bags underneath their eyes.

You and Bucky were doing very well together. You guys won a ton of rounds and always celebrated with Bucky hugging you and spinning you around the room. But you weren't tired. The adrenaline from the game was serving as a source of energy, and it was the same source for all the other teams too.

Peter and Tony were doing very well too. They won a couple rounds as well and they always high fived when they won. But whenever they lost, Tony threatened Peter, saying he would take away his suit and suspend him from being an Avenger. And as the night progressed, you and everyone kept forgetting the score for your teams. So Tony asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to keep track of the score for the rest of the night. And she did, very well.

Sam and Clint were very competitive and sometimes it served in their favor. They won a few like you and Bucky and Peter and Tony. Clint was yawning by 9:50, he wasn't used to staying up late, but he was having fun nonetheless. Sam, however, was full of energy, matching your level. He grabbed tons and tons of candy, ice cream and other junk food as the night progressed, serving as a food and energy source for all of the teams. Sam ate so much in fact that he got a sugar high at about 10:00 pm, but it wore off a few minutes later.

Steve and Nat were doing good,but not as well and you and Bucky. They won a few rounds, sure, but not as many as they would like. Nat was pretty calm, but when Sam was "high" he was trying to be smooth and get Nat to go out with him. She hit him repeatedly, and she smiled with gusto as she did, which made you laugh. Steve to your surprise, was getting a little worked up. He sighed in annoyance whenever they lost a round, and roared in happiness whenever they won.

~~~

"Ok, what's the score F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" Nat asked.

"The score for the Lovebirds is nine," F.R.I.D.A.Y. recited. "The Spies have seven. The Student and Master have nine as well. And finally, the Birdbrains have nine. Is that all Mrs. Romanoff?"

"Your good, thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y." Nat thanked.

"Ok since you guys have nine each, me and Nat will judge this last round." Steve said. "This is it, the last one. Winner takes all!"

As Steve finished his speech, Nat rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath as she went to grab the final black card.. You knew Bucky had superb hearing, so you leaned to ask him what she said.

"Buck, what did she say?" you asked, quietly.

"She was just saying something about how Steve has a speech for every little thing." Bucky whispered. You giggled under your breath.

As Nat read the card, she showed it to Steve, who started to giggle like a five year old.

"Steve, this isn't that funny," Nat groaned.

"Just read the card," Steve sighed as he regained control of his breathing.

"Ugh." Nat sighed. "Kids, I don't need drugs to get high. I'm high on _____." Everyone chuckled at the card and turned to their partners for the last time.

"Kid, this is it," Tony said.

"Yep," Peter said.

"We gotta go big or go home." Tony said. Then, Tony and Peter looked through the cards and finally, they had their eyes set on their winning card.

"This, my student, is gold," Tony remarked. "No, no. Scratch that. It's the diamond in the rough."

"Do you know the movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory?" Peter asked.

"Yeah why?"

"Well, this card is like our golden ticket to victory Mr. Stark." Peter said.

"I don't want another pop culture reference out of you for the rest of the night. You understand?" Tony scolded. Peter gulped as Tony placed their card in the middle of the table.

"Clint?" Sam asked.

"Sam?" Clint asked.

"This is it." Sam said.

"This is it." Clint said. "We gotta give 'em the money."

"Give em the money!"

"We gotta win."

"We have to show those little shits who the fucking bosses are." Sam declared.

"Yes sir," Clint agreed. As the Birdbrains were chanting, boosting their confidence, they interrupted Bucky's train of thought, and yours as well. To you, they sounded like the football teams in the locker room. When the coach is giving the team a pep talk during the halftime show in the Superbowl, boosting the teams confidence. You were giggling to yourself as you heard them, and Bucky caught on. As you looked back at him, you saw a glimmer in his heavenly, blue eyes, filled with mischief. He had his signature smirk, his one for trouble on as well.

"Doll, watch this," he whispered. He looked over at Sam and Clint, and you waited to see what he would do next.

"YEAH BIRDBRAINS! PREACH!!!" he shouted, clapping his hands and cheering them on, mocking them.

Sam and Clint immediately stop and glare at Bucky, who is smirking at them and batting his eyelashes at them, while you are cuddled up into his shoulder laughing at the Winter Soldiers antics.

"SHUT IT LOVEBIRDS!!!" Sam and Clint clap back.

"Ok, before we were so RUDELY interrupted," Sam grunted.

"Very RUDELY," Clint agreed.

"Do you agree that this one is the winner?" Sam asked. Clint looked at the card that Sam was referring to and nodded his head. Then Sam took the card and placed it in the middle. You and Bucky were the team that everyone was waiting for.

"Ok doll," Bucky said. "Don't worry. We got this in the bag."

"Yeah we got this." you agreed, smiling at your boyfriend.

Bucky looked at the other teams and pointed at them while they were waiting for you guys. "They don't know who they are dealing with. They are messing with the fucking Lovebirds and they have made a BIG fucking mistake."

"Yeah we got this. Also.." you said slyly, biting your lip at Bucky, putting your hand in his hair and leaning into his ear so only he could hear. "If we do win.. We can have some fun later, if you know what I mean."

When you pulled away, looking back at the cards, you looked at Bucky through the corner of your eyes. His eyes bulged open and he looked at you, smirking and biting his bottom lip.

"Oh doll," he groaned, his voice deeper and as smooth as chocolate.

"This card looks good right?" you asked, your tone completely changed from full of lust to innocence. Bucky kept staring at you and smiled at you. He always had a hard time believing he was dating you, but tonight, he realized he wanted you till the day he died.

"Yeah, you do." he blushed. You giggled at him and gave him a peck on the cheek before you put your card into the middle.

"Ok everyone ready?" Steve asked, grabbing the cards from the table. Everyone nodded, nerves were bouncing off the walls for all the teams.

"First card." Steve announced. "Kids, I don't need drugs to get high. I'm high on..." He looked at the card and snickered, making sure his eyes weren't play tricks on him. "I'm high on anal beads." The room was roaring with laughter as Steve blushed after reading the card. It took everyone about 10 minutes to calm down and let the Spies read the next card.

"That's method." Tony sighed.

"That's fucked up," Nat coughed.

"That's kinky as fuck!" Sam exclaimed.

"Next: Kids, I dont need drugs to get high," Nat read. "I'm high on selling crack to children." Nat's voice cracked with shock as she finished reading the card in horror. Everyone cracked up even more.

"That's sick!" Clint said.

"Twisted!" Peter agreed.

"Ok whoever put that card down has the balls and I fucking live for it." you smiled, still laughing.

"What the hell?" Bucky sighed, putting his head in his metal hand, trying to process what Nat read.

"Then, last but not least, Nat will you do the honors?" Steve asked.

"It would be my honor," Nat grinned. Before she started reading, she cleared her throat, overexagrating a little bit, which caused everyone to chuckle. "Kids, I don't need drugs to get high. I'm high on… what the fuck?" Nat looked at the card she had to read and started cackling like a witch.

"Nat, you ok over there?" you asked.

"Yeah Im fine." Nat chuckled. "I'm high on a good sniff." Everyone in the room was soon cackling like Nat. And you sounded like witches. You wondered how Wanda and Vision were "sleeping" with all the noise you guys were making. After everyone calmed down, Steve wasn't out of breath like everyone else.

"Nat, that means what I think it means right?" Steve asked quietly.

"What do you think it means Steve?" Nat sighed. Steve leaned into her ear and whispered what he thought it was. You asked Bucky if he could hear what he said, but your boyfriend shook his head. After Steve finished telling Nat, she nodded her head and rolled her eyes at her stupid partner.

"Yes Steve." Nat groaned. "That's what 'a good sniff' means, you idiot."

"Thought you would have gotten that, pal," Bucky mocked.

"I did, I just wanted to make sure what I thought was correct." Steve stated.

"Steve, how do you not understand anything?" Bucky asked.

"Bucky, I thought you always fucked the girls on the first date in the forties. Did you yet?" Steve asked, trying to come back at Bucky. But it didn't really make sense because you were still a virgin. Tony rolled his eyes in the corner and you sighed.

"Did you fuck a girl yet?" Bucky snapped.

"Steve, do we have a winner?" Nat interrupted, stopping the old men from bickering any longer.

"No, I have no clue," Steve answered. "This was a close round. Do you want to decide somewhere else, so they don't hear? This might take a while."

"Yeah, lets go to the bathroom," Nat said. "Take the cards with you." Steve followed Nat, but Sam wasn't going to let Nat leave so quickly.

"Dont fuck him Nat!!!" Sam pleaded, shouting as loud as he could. "He will lose his powers!" Steve turned his back to face Sam, who was smiling back at him. Steve rolled his eyes and followed Nat, and as he walked down the hall, he flipped Sam off. Nat did as well.

You, Peter and Tony were laughing your asses off, laughing at Steve and Nat as they were in the bathroom. Clint was on his phone, texting his wife.

Meanwhile, Sam and Bucky were making fun of Steve. You heard them saying how much trouble Steve would be having if he was actually fucking Nat. They were saying how Nat would be the dominant one and Steve would be like a ragdoll. You were listening to Sam and Bucky more then Tony and Peter, since what Bucky and Sam were talking about interested you way more.

After about 10 minutes or so, Steve and Nat came out of the bathroom. You, Sam and Bucky were eyeing them very closely, seeing if their hair was messed up, if their clothes were wrinkled, if they had hickeys, but there were no signs of physical contact. Sam, however, wasn't letting up.

"I hope you didn't give him a quickie," Sam mocked.

"Fuck off, Birdbrain," Nat scoffed. "Steve, do you want to announce the winning team?"

"Sure," Steve nodded. "Drumroll, please."

Everyone patted their legs, making a drumroll noise. But Tony just waved his hand for everyone to stop.

"Guys stop, just stop." Tony commanded. "We have an A.I. for a reason. F.R.I.D.A.Y., drumroll." F.R.I.D.A.Y. followed her orders and played a drumroll.

"The winning card is….." Steve announced. "A GOOD SNIFF!!!" You and Bucky erupted from your seats like a volcano. Your hair started to glow and you floated in the air for a second. Everyone saw you and thought you looked like a living candle. Bucky hugged you and spun you around the room in his arms. Bucky kissed you and you kissed him back. Not a makeout, but just a long kiss, filled with passion and love.

Sam and Clint got pissed that they didn't win, but they clapped for you, very slowly. Peter clapped for you and cheered, but Tony just sighed and made gagging noises when he saw you kissing. Nat was smiling at the two of you, and so was Steve. They looked like proud parents, smiling in approval of how happy you and Bucky were.

"YES!! We won!!" Bucky shouted.

"Told ya we would!" You cheered. "Take that, Birdbrains!"

"Yeah, yeah good job. I'm going to bed." Tony groaned and headed up to the elevator, which led him to his room which was on the top floor. You sighed and said goodnight anyways.

"I should call it a night," Clint said.

"Me too. See ya tomorrow, lovebirds!" Nat said. You and Bucky waved goodbye as the two of them headed to their rooms.

"Congratulations guys. See ya tomorrow!" Steve said.

"They was cheatin." Sam bickered.

"Cmon birdbrain, lets go," Steve sighed. Sam was bickering with Steve all the way to their rooms, and as they got further away, you could still hear them, which made you laugh. The only people left in the room were you Bucky and Peter.

"I'm so happy that it worked," Peter said. "Congrats by the way!"

"Thanks Peter! I had so much fun!" you smiled.

"Yeah, it was great," Bucky agreed. "I owe ya big time, Spiderling."

"Oh, thanks grandpa." Peter grinned. "You have no idea what you owe me." Then you guys cleaned up the remaining cards and headed back to your rooms. Peter said goodnight to the two of you and you and the Winter Soldier headed to his room.

"When we get back to my room," Bucky said as you were walking. "We earn our reward."

#avengers #marvel #fanfic #fandom #peter parker #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fucking barnes #bucky barnes #tony stank #tony stark #steve rogers #clint barton #friday #cards against humanity

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mothmansfriend · 5 years ago

Text

when i’m sad oh god i’m sad (pt. 2)

link to pt. 1

follows a very similar timeline to @tearxofink‘s fic Rules for a Functioning Alcoholic but will prob have differences (such as no established relationships) and takes place in @illogicallyinclined‘s hockey au after the mention of Remus possibly having undiagnosed bipolar disorder

update: i think its important to acknowledge roughly where this takes place in the big timeline bc D doesn’t really drink past freshman yr in this AU because of self preservation and trauma, alcoholism was more an issue before then in high school (when remus and d were Rowdy Boys) but the stress of Logan’s concussion lead to some heavy drinking that was caught quickly by Virgil because Remus Cannot Keep Secrets.

summary: Remus has undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder and is dealing with a severe depressive episode in the aftermath of realizing that binge drinking with D wasn’t just his own search to Feel Something, but was also D’s relapse into alcoholism. Remus comes to the realization of lost time during manic episodes and refuses help.

tw: graphic descriptions of a depressive episode, self harm (burning), suicidal thoughts, and suicidal intent (but not attempt). unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol abuse, mentioned alcoholism, undiagnosed mental illness, miscommunications on shared trauma, ask to tag if i missed any.

There are a number of places that are simply uncomfortable to sleep. Barely sitting up and using the chairs provided by the previous tenants as a pillow is certainly one of them. It takes Remus a moment to identify what woke him up as there's another round of knocking on his door and he doesn’t want to respond. It’s bright out,the sun is blocked from his figure by the curtains covering most of the windows. He hears Roman’s muffled voice as the locked doorknob jiggles, “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is”.

Their footsteps move away and Virgil speaks, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that-” his voice fades as they enter the kitchen.

Remus can barely pick himself off the floor before his phone lit up with a notification.

the shittier twin: You good? LMK when you’re coming home, Virgil is lowkey freaking out (received: 10:14)

He stares at the words willing his brain to focus as he decides, maybe he should reply.

He sends a photo of a fat pigeon he took outside a club him and D got kicked out of a few weeks ago. It would be clear that the picture was taken at a different time, but does get message of ‘I’m alive’ across. Which is about as much as Remus is willing to communicate to people that haven’t even tried to contact him before now. How sad is it that his twin brother didn’t even check on him until six days later. Or maybe he should be asking if it’s sad that after four days Roman still hasn’t noticed that he’s home, or that it took Roman six to even ask? Remus spends all this time in the theatre and in the arts studio, and still Roman was the only one to ask, though at the request of someone who wants to get mad at him. He considers if maybe that he is a bad person, and that isn’t something he normally would care about, but if he weren’t then people might have checked on him. He usually hangs out with D almost everyday and he swears he’s never been gone more than maybe four days. But no one else seems concerned at all.

He considers reasons why this might be and gets stuck on Roman’s comment that he hasn’t been gone that long, and the implications then of him being gone longer. Things that don’t really make sense, but he knows losing your train of thought and getting distracted is a part of ADHD, but maybe, this is much more concerning. How does he know that he’s only ever been gone so long, maybe those lapses are more than a few minutes of zoning out. Which leads to, does Remus know who he is during these lapses? The contrast between the two prince twins have always been clear in their behaviour, Roman who follows every word their parents whisper in his ear. The boy grew up to be an actor after years of who takes any command without thought at that chance to be on top, and revelled in praise. It’s the cowards way of survival, are you really living if you’re not you? He knows Roman wasn’t quite loving that, but he still complied. Remus has always known exactly who he is and who he always will be. But the uncertainty of who he is in those spaces that seem to be taking up more and more space, maybe he;s been following someones script too?

He’s constantly changing his mind and forgetting where he is, are his feelings his? If everything the thought he knew about himself is slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass than how does he make it stop?

—

Virgil slides into the recently empty chair next to Roman the second Patton gets up to ask the waitress for another round of coffee, he steals one of Roman’s sausages and speaks, “By the way, I’m catching a ride to your place with you and D”.

Roman squawks at the sausage thief, “Why? I already told you Remus isn’t home!”

Virgil rolls his eyes, “Yeah I know, just humour me. I went to talk to Joan before we left and Thomas said Remus texted to apologize for missing practice, he’s never done that before! I just wanna come check, you can make fun of me later or whatever.”

“Fine, whatever, I know you’d just show up anyway. I don’t think him texting Thomas means anything though, even if it is weird.”

“Well we can agree to disagree then.”

—

The entry to the apartment the Prince twins share with D was just as full of banter as expected. D and Roman irritating Virgil without effort but Virgil matching that with his own comebacks and determination to check on Remus. “Alright, Emo Knightmare, let’s go knock on his cave door so I can know you again, that he isn’t home” Roman drops his bag next to the couch and heads down the shared hallway of D, Remus, and the storage closet. D walks past him with comments of a essay due tomorrow and disappears. Roman walks down and knocks on the door sternly once maintaining eye contact with Virgil knowing there will not be a response. Virgil follows him and he knocks again after a moment and jiggles the knocked door handle. “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is.” Roman turns and leads them back out into the living room towards the kitchen.

Virgil pauses for a moment watching the door before he follows, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that he actually texted to apologize for not showing up today. You know when Remus is out he never remembers to charge his phone, it just seems weird.”

Roman exhales and wordlessly pulls out his phone shooting off a text to his twin before pulling some leftovers out of the fridge to offer to Virgil despite the fact they had eaten not long ago. Virgil accepts and he puts it on two plates for the microwave. Roman’s phone vibrates on the counter with a text. The emo leans over to read and snorts, “Wait, is Remus’s name actually ‘the shittier twin’ in your phone? He just send a picture of what appears to be an obese pigeon, that doesn’t answer my question at all!”

Roman shrugs, “Of course it is, and yeah that sounds about right, it’s like he’s trying to communicate through hieroglyphics, he’s just telling us he’s fine.”

Virgil’s dark eyes examine Roman’s face for any reflection that he’s just trying to make him stop bothering him with his concern, but when he sees nothing he drops his defensiveness, “Yeah, okay, he’s your brother, he’s kind of like a cat I guess. He always comes home right?”

The microwave beeps and Roman slides the extra plate in front of Virgil, “Exactly, he’s just like this, I’ll text you when he comes back. You don’t need to worry about it, Virge.”

Virgil shoots him a small smile before taking his plate to the couch closely followed by the oldest Prince twin as they settle down with Netflix until they need to leave for their respective classes.

—

Roman blearily wipes his eyes as he wakes up in his dark room and rolls over to check the time. 2:34am wake up and bathroom break time. He briefly considers just rolling over and waiting four or five hours until he needs to get up for class, but decides there’s just a higher chance of getting a restless sleep the rest of the night. The hockey captain rolls out of bed standing in his room shirtless and only wearing a random pair of soft sleep pants and stumbles out of his room, crossing the living room and entry way he’s about to try the handle of the dark bathroom door when it opens to reveal a tall dark figure.

Roman jumps back with an admittedly embarrassing squawk before recognizing the dark figure to be a freshly showered, exhausted, and almost weak looking Remus. The two stood in silence for a moment, Remus not even reacting to the sight of his brother. Roman awkwardly laughed for a moment, “Holy shit, Remus! I didn't even realize you were home.”

Remus stares emptily, moving to walk away without replying, Roman stops him with a hand on his shoulder, “Are you like, uh, okay? You kind of look like shit”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say as suddenly Remus’s face hardens into a snarl, “Oh fuck you, Roman.” His voice cracks halfway through but it doesn’t do anything to diminish the venom in his voice, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Christ! If you’re going to be an asshole then nevermind, I just wanted to check up on you. You know, like a concerned brother just might do?” Roman fires back suddenly feeling defensive. The tone of voice Remus uses almost sounds scared to him but he doesn’t have the energy to pry at Remus in the hallway less than 6 feet from D’s door at 2:30am.

“You don’t get to play any kind of concerned brother role right now! You don’t just get to decide to be concerned one day, it’s all about appearances with you, I dont fuck with that!” Remus’s voice raises as he gets more and more riled up, his voice sounds like shit as if he hasn’t used it in days, “Tell me when you think I got home, Princey, huh? You don't know shit about me and it’s time you stopped asking like you do.” He steps towards Roman edging back down the hallway to the living room.

“Why am I supposed to know when you got home?” Roman fires back, “You’re an adult! You’ve taken care of yourself fine for years, I’m not your parent I don’t need to know where you are twenty-four-fucking-seven!”

Vaguely, Roman hears D’s bedroom door open and feels brief regret that was smashed by Remus shoving him backwards. “You don’t need to know! But, did you ever think to wonder? Did you ever once care enough to ask? No! I don’t remember ever being gone more than three or four days.”

Roman recoils for a second in confusion but counters standing his ground, “What does that fucking mean? You own a calendar, a phone, you should know your average in the last year has been like five to seven days, you can’t blame me that you decide to go on a bender every 6 months or less. Can’t you ever grow up?”

“It means I don’t know where I was for two to four of those days at least! You self absorbed prick! Fuck!” Remus crumples for a second, his facial expression looks so, lost. He violently grabs and tugs on his still damp hair. He stands back up face guarded once again. “I know I never go out without a plan, I have paid some fucking terrible prices for that that you never need to know about. But, you’re telling me that I was out there and I don’t remember it? And no one thought to mention anything to me? And you’re asking if I’m ‘okay’? Fuck that, fuck you. I’m going back to my room, and ideally I’ll fucking rot and die before I have to look at you again,” Remus seethes before turning and slamming his door without waiting for a response.

Roman sags at his brothers exiting remarks, making tentative eye contact with D who waits in the dark hallway. “I don’t know what to do,” Roman says quietly.

D moves towards him moving them to the couch offering a comforting touch to the remaining twin, “Roman, I cannot tell you that I have any idea about what just happened. But, it seems like he just wants you to be there for him, in his own weird displays of affection he does love you and I think maybe he’s scared sometimes that you don’t care for him, and he lashes out. But right now, you need to go back to sleep so you can go to your boring nine am lecture, and I’ll try to spend time with him tomorrow. Sound good?”

Roman examines D, letting himself feel vulnerable for a moment but trusts that D knows what to do. He’s known the twins since high school, if anyone knew it would be him. “Thank you, D” Roman whispers, leaning into the little affection for a moment before he stands up and moves them back down the hallway.

Roman goes to the bathroom as originally planned but thinks about the things his younger brother had said. How much is he missing? What does it mean for Remus to simply not remember days at a time? Is it because of drinking too much or something else?

As Roman tucks himself back into bed, preparing himself for the restless sleep he had been trying to avoid. His mind wanders, and he can’t help but think that maybe he should be questioning blood stains on Remus’s carpet a little more.

#sanders sides angst #sanders sides #remus sanders #hockey au #university au #creativitwins #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus prince #roman prince #virgil fosc #bipolar disorder

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ateezgf · 6 years ago

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The rules are:

1. tag the person who tagged you

2. answer the questions

3. tag 10 people

i was tagged by some random @evnwoonies if anyone knows them, lmk :/ NGKJSDNGRE anyway, here’s another get to know me thing for all u nosy hoes

How tall are you? 5′0 but dont talk about it

What color and style is your hair? it’s brown !!! according to other people, it’s also light brown & red (which is my mom’s natural hair color). it’s pretty short right now, around shoulder length. and it’s wavy hehe

What color are your eyes? brown !! they look different in the sun

Do you wear glasses? i do !

Do you wear braces? no, but i should

What’s your fashion sense? i’m like.. in between styles right now idk. idk how to really describe it ?? it’s a lot of high waisted pants & big tshirts. maybe a crop top if im feeling ok with myself. will update yall once i find my fashion sense

Full name? mika ashley !!!!!! i’ve come to love it over the years tbh

When were you born? september 29, 1999 . . . a whole lot of 9′s

Where are you from and where do you live now? i’ve lived in socal my whoooole life oof

What school do you go to? i go to community college nhksfjh. im almost done with my GE’s so hopefully i can transfer by fall 2020

What kind of student are you? in class, im p quiet. i dont really.... talk to anyone which sucks bc if i miss a day, i cant text someone like “ay what happened”. i procrastinate a loT NGKJSDNG but like... i still pass for the most part idk

Do you like school? it’s alright ngkjdngskjngre. it gives me something to do i guESS

Favorite subject? i really love psychology which is why.... it’s my major bgkdsfhgn

Favorite tv show? how i met your mother & how to get away with murder

Favorite movie? scott pilgram vs the world !!!!

Favorite books? it’s kind of a funny story by ned vizzini

Favorite pastime? i spend a lot of on here or writing or watching ... anything nhkdjfsgn

Do you have any regrets? yeah probably but yall dont gotta know

Dream job? i would love to be a writer but i !! know i probably wont be one. i would just love to be able to help people

Would you ever like to be married? that’d be cool !!! idk when but probably not anytime soon

Would you like to have kids? i also think this would be cool !!! i’d probably adopt one and give birth to another. again not anytime soon

How many? o i just answered that but bgkfdjsng two

Do you like shopping? i like shopping online !! idk why shopping in person makes me nervous

What countries have you visited? i’ve never left the us states so ):

Scariest nightmare you have ever had? mmMMMMMMM ION WANNA TALK ABOUT IT but i couldnt sleep after that

Any enemies? i mean, i dont think so but like lmao people got some one-sided beef with me

Any significant other? yes !! for three years heh

Do you believe in miracles? i like to think they exist but idk if i ever really witnessed one

How are you? UH im alright i suppose !!!!!!!!! im almost done with my second year of college so im lowkey stressed. always sleepy because of work ( i slept all day today ) and kind of sad but !! i know there are good things every day even if theyre small so i guess that balances it out lowkey

tagging: i dont have 10 people to tag but i’ll tag @hometual @npua @moonsjun @fan-chngchng @wooyuong but u dont have to do it !! lmk if u dont wanna be tagged in stuff like this ily alll

#about #these are always fun to do idk

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skeletonscribbles · 7 years ago

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Wishes - Ch. 2

she promises, she delivers. this is the Mike Hanlon chapter which means it is Blessed. I think I got everyone on this taglist but if I missed someone lmk I’m a little outta my head atm

Rating: M, eventually. G right now, except for cursing. Pairings: Reddie, Stan/Bill/Mike, Benverly WC: like 3k? idk math Summary:

you know what tumblr there was gonna be a summary here but since you keep fucking up my apostrophes ive decided you dont deserve it

Other: Martin Short is actually a blessing dont listen to Mike

Chapter 1 / Read on Ao3

Tag List: @roobarrtrashmouth @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @tozier-club @aizeninlefox @stanheartsbill @latinxrichie @softeds @pretzelstoday @melancholypurple @wheezygreens @ayyyymichele @loser-marsh

MIKE HANLON - KIDCOT STATION AT THE CANADA PAVILION, EPCOT CENTER THURSDAY, OCTOBER 8TH 6:55 P.M.

There were two hours and five minutes until the Epcot fireworks show began, signalling the imminent close of the park, which meant there were three hours and five minutes until Mike Hanlon could finally clock out.

Not that he was counting, of course.

Sighing, he shifted in his seat at the Canada KidCot station. He’d been scheduled for an afternoon 8 hour shift, 11 to 7, but they’d asked for someone to extend because they were short-staffed and he apparently couldn’t help himself. He agreed to work until close, which was an extra three hours. Normally, he wouldn’t be phased by that, but he was bone tired today. He’d been up late with his Imagineer roommate, poring over plans and ideas for Star Wars.

He should have known better. No amount of arguing for Lando Calrissian or Finn was going to make Bob Iger, the CEO of the company, less racist, which meant that there was little to no hope for representation in the new Star Wars World. His roommate Ben had tried to warn him, but he’d pushed the issue anyway, feeling restless and irritated that he worked for a company that didn’t value people like him.

Now, he was paying the price. He stifled a yawn as a mother with two children hustled them by his table - he would kill for someone to actually talk to, but he wasn’t the type to hustle people over to him Gaston-style. (The Magic Kingdom Gaston was notorious for cat-calling girls, which Mike supposed was in character...but it was deeply unsettling to watch.)

Sighing, Mike picked up a marker and began to color one of the Duffy* drawings at his station. As bored as he was, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Disney, for all its flaws, was more of a home for him than Canada had ever been, and KidCot was his favorite rotation. He loved telling stories and teaching kids about his home country - he loved teaching.

He loved Canada, too...it was his home, after all, but it had never been freeing for him like Florida had. Home came with expectations - from his peers, from his teachers, and most of all, from his parents.

Mike loved his parents, but he was definitely not the son they needed. He had no interest in hanging around and taking over the farm. His dreams were bigger than that.

His parents, for their part, had totally supported his move...at their own expense. He felt guilty about that sometimes, but he had a feeling that all three of them knew, in their hearts, that it was the right choice for Mike to go.

He’d come to Disney World because he hadn’t known where else to go. Disney had a work program for international students that promised to give him opportunities to connect with people around the world, and that promise had really appealed to 21 year-old Mike Hanlon. It had been the right choice, definitely - his first three months at Star Tours had been like a dream. He got to talk Star Wars all day, he got to choose Rebel Spies**, the ride wasn’t that complicated, and he hadn’t had to slog all the way around the perimeter of Hollywood Studios to get to his attraction like the Tower of Terror bellhops did. (There had to be a more efficient way of moving around backstage, and someday, Mike imagined they’d invent it, but for the time being, it was long walks and bikes over at Studios.) All in all, it had been a perfect fit for him.

Then, he had three months doing outdoor vending (ODV) at Studios, and that was...less exciting, to say the least. ODV was hot, sweaty work, and the guests that wanted popcorn or pretzels or light-up Mickey ears were usually tired, hungry, and cranky (and sometimes racist). Still, that was manageable, especially when he got into the groove of Fantasmic shifts. In fact, he still picked up Fantasmic shifts from time to time, for nostalgia’s sake.

After that, his program was over, but he didn’t feel ready to do something else, so he went to Casting to see about applying for a more regular job (and what he would have to do to renew his US work visa). The only full-time position they had to offer him was in the Canada Pavilion, so that’s where he was for the time being. It wasn’t ideal (he was putting in to transfer back to attractions as soon as he was able), but he’d gotten that temporary worker visa for it, so he had no choice but to make it work. So far, the only thing that had been completely ruined for him was Martin Short movies, because after watching the Martin Short ‘O Canada’ film a thousand and twelve times per work shift, he’d sooner die than watch Three Amigos ever again in his life. (He considered himself extremely lucky to have found the roommate that he did via the CM Housing Facebook page, but if Ben put on Father of the Bride one more time, Mike was going to kick him out immediately and permanently.)

Mike finished coloring his Duffy and looked around. There were no kids anywhere in sight. It was around dinner time, and the Canada pavilion wasn’t a highly popular family destination to begin with, so Mike was going to be alone for a long while, people-watching as young hipster couples walked by with Disney shopping bags full of maple syrup and plaid clothes.

He was so zoned out, he almost missed the two attractive men that were walking out of a shop and towards him.

Now, Mike had spent quite a bit of time coming to terms with his sexual identity. His father extremely traditional - which was not to say close-minded, but there was just no opportunity for exploration on the farm. It wouldn’t have made sense.

Disney was on the extreme opposite end of that spectrum. A huge percentage of male Cast Members were gay, and for the first time, Mike had the opportunity to consider his own feelings.

As it turned out, he was pretty equally interested in men and women. He’d had a couple of short relationships during his time in the States with people of both genders, and they’d all been pretty nice...just, not lasting, and none of the people he had dated had been as compelling as the two men - a redhead and a boy with light brown curls, he could see now - that were walking his way.

It was a bit disconcerting, actually. Mike usually wasn’t attracted to white people (they were so entitled and pasty), but there was something almost cosmic about these two. It felt like the universe calling.

Before they got close enough to see him, Light Brown Curls stopped and turned to the redhead, holding up a Disney bag and smirking. The redhead blushed and grabbed for the bag, but Curls swiftly moved it behind his back. They began to engage in a game of keep-away. Mike was mesmerized.

“You trying to stamp their passports?” Mike jumped at the sound of a leering female voice, and almost fell out of his chair. “If you know what I mean?”

“Ma’am, I---” he began, turning to look at the perpetrator and stopping short when he saw her pretty green eyes. “Huh?”

She laughed prettily. “The ginger making an idiot of himself is named Bill. He works Guest Relations over at MK, and he’s been super hung up on these two guys he saw in passing in the Boardwalk slash Epcot area recently. Classic pining gay.”

Mike looked back over at the two men. The ginger (Bill) had retrieved his bag, and was waving it in front of Curls’ face. Curls seemed unimpressed.

“Is the skinny brunette boy one of the guys Bill was pining over?” Mike guessed, watching the bounce of the haughty man’s curls.

“Yep,” said the girl, joining Mike in looking over. “His name’s Stan, apparently. He’s a front desk coordinator over at Yacht, because of course he is. Everyone at Yacht is so fucking put together. Pardon my French.”

“It’s a relief to hear cursing every once in a while,” Mike admitted. “It can’t be princesses and rainbows all the time.”

The girl nodded appreciatively. “I like your style. I’m Beverly. I work in costuming over at MK.”

“Oh, word.” Mike stuck out a hand for her to shake. She took it, and he was immediately impressed by the subtle strength in her grip. “I’m Mike. You wanna learn about Canada?”

“At some point,” Beverly said, smiling amusedly. “Right now, though, I’m trying to play matchmaker.”

Mike squinted at her, confused. “Aren’t your friends already together, though? I thought you were just third-wheeling.”

“Fourth-wheeling, if all goes to plan.” Beverly waggled her eyebrows. “Weren’t you wondering who else Bill has a crush on around here? I did say that he was pining over two guys.”

Mike’s stomach lurched. Pretty boys weren’t generally in the business of looking Mike Hanlon’s way...unless he was reading the whole thing wrong?

“No, but there’s already...they’re already….” Mike protested weakly, hoping his assumptions were correct. “I couldn’t intrude.”

Beverly shrugged her freckled shoulders, looking down nonchalantly. “Two’s an arbitrary number, bud. You can do whatever you want.”

The boys’ eyes were on Mike, now - they must have noticed him talking to their friend. The redhead was smiling, and Mike suddenly felt hot.

Being with more than one person at a time had never occurred to Mike, but now that the idea had been planted, it was taking root in a really fast and embarrassing way.

“Bill, Stan,” Beverly called, beaming, “meet my new friend Mike. He’s from Canada.”

Feeling a little stupid, Mike gestured to his nametag. “Saskatchewan.”

“Mike from Saskatchewan.” Stan stepped forward, confident and smooth. “Very, very nice to meet you.”

Bill smiled knowingly. “Told you, didn’t I?”

“You were right,” Stan said, eyes never leaving Mike.

Mike looked between the two, hoping for an explanation, and Bill promptly provided him with one. “I saw you here the other day, talking to kids. You’ve got incredible charisma.”

Mike was painfully cognizant of the blood rushing to his cheeks. “Thanks. Uh. Bev says you guys are CMs, too?”

“Yep!” Bill tapped his chest where his name tag would be if he were in costume. “I’m in the Magic Kingdom, and Stan’s your neighbor over at the Yacht Club.”

“It’s a shame you don’t have any guests,” said Stan, examining the Duffy coloring pages at Mike’s table. “I don’t know why people aren’t flocking to you, honestly. You seem like the kind of person that I’d actually enjoy learning about Canada from.”

“Do you wanna hear some facts?” Mike asked, and then immediately cringed. Why couldn’t he say something compelling for once?

Fortunately, Bill and Stan seemed to find it endearing rather than weird. Stan opened his mouth to speak again…

...and was immediately interrupted by a freckly, frizzy-haired tornado of a human being, who swept in and slung his absurdly long arms over Bill and Stan’s shoulders. Mike blinked rapidly, trying to take stock of the situation, but before he could get his bearings, the new person adjusted his glasses and started speaking in a thick Russian accent.

“Eet eez veddy hahd, Comrade, for me to trahhck you eef you do not answer calls, da?” He was talking to Stan, but Bill seemed to recognize him, too, if his eye roll was any indication.

“Why the fuck did you need to find me at all?” Stan groaned. It was obvious that he was fond of this weird, lanky guy, but he was playing at irritation. “I turned off my phone for a reason, you nerd. Take a hint.”

“Eh, I was bored. Also kinda sad, thanks to Big Bill here.” The guy abruptly stopped with the accent, turned to Bill, and tutted loudly. “Can you believe that Bill stood in the way of true love today? Also, how the hell do you know Bill, Stanny?”

“We’ve literally just met,” Stan said, “and preventing you from feeling love is only serving to make him more attractive to me, so by all means, Bill, continue.”

“It’s not up to me,” Bill said sadly, “and tragically, Eddie does think he’s hot.”

The third guy inhaled sharply. “Hold on, say that last bit again.”

“Mike, this is Richie.” Bill ignored Richie’s request and turned to Mike. “He’s bad, sorry.”

Richie’s eyes flicked up to Mike for the first time. Mike sat awkwardly as Richie took him in, smiled, and said, “A fucking pleasure. Has anyone ever told you that red’s your color?”

“Just you,” Mike replied honestly.

“Glad I could be your first.” Richie winked, and Mike felt charmed in spite of himself.

“Okay, so how do we all know each other again?” Bev asked, frowning. “I know Rich because he’s a giant pain in my ass when he comes through costuming, I know Bill because I know Bill, and now I know Stan and Mike through Bill…”

“Richie’s my roommate,” Stan said flatly. “Unfortunately.”

Bill whipped around to stare accusingly at Richie. “You’ve been keeping that from me?”

“Hey, I didn’t know you were into stuck-up assholes,” Richie shrugged. “Besides, that’s justice in action for not giving Cute Character Attendant Eddie my number.”

“He was working,” Bill said defensively.

“He was working,” Richie parroted mockingly. “That’s never stopped me from hitting on him before, and it won’t stop me again.”

“I wouldn't,” Bill warned. “Eddie’s no joke.”

“Didn’t say he was,” Richie agreed, bouncing excitedly. “Did he actually say I was hot, though, because--”

“Where do you work, Richie?” Mike asked, trying to save Bill from the conversation.

Richie’s smile was huge and sweet. “The World Famous Jungle Cruise, of course! Why, you itchin’ to ride my bote?” His expression turned suggestive. “Because I’d let you. It’d be worth the long, painful death Stan and Bill would put me through--”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Bill said loudly, elbowing Richie hard in the gut. Richie doubled over on to the damp wood of the pavilion floor.

Stan quirked an eyebrow, obviously impressed. “Beep beep, huh? I’ll have to remember that for next time.” He brushed Bill’s arm with his hand as he said it, and the corner of Bill’s mouth twitched up. Mike was enamoured by the interaction, and wanted more than anything to be on the other side of the table, included in whatever it was they had going on…

...fuck, he was so fucking fucked.

“Richie, if you’re not here for any real reason, then you should come with me,” said Beverly, looking like she was already regretting her offer. “I was gonna ditch these three in a couple of minutes, anyway. Let ‘em have a Food and Wine date, or something.”

“You’re sweet, Bevvy.” Richie gave her a sappy look as he peeled himself off of the floor. “Askin’ me out. Adorable. Unfortunately, I’m gonna have to pass, because Bill, I’m not going anywhere until you promise to get me Cute Eddie’s number.”

“You’re really dedicated to that, huh?” Bill asked, tone halfway between ‘impressed’ and ‘alarmed’. “What the hell happened between you two to make you so frigging obsessed, Rich? Normally you’re all jokes and no follow-through.”

Richie tried to be nonchalant, but Mike could see a bit of red creeping up his neck under the collar of his shitty Toy Story t-shirt. He was silent for a moment, and then when he spoke, his voice was soft. “He’s just...I don’t….he’s all the stuff I like, you know?”

Mike looked at Bill, whose forehead was scrunched up in obvious concern at Richie’s words, and then at Stan, who had his hands delicately on his hips and was trying and failing to not seem affected, and understood that he, Mike Hanlon, knew exactly what Richie was talking about.

“Let’s talk more about this later,” Bill finally suggested after a long moment. “Okay?”

Richie nodded quietly. Something had happened in the last few minutes...it was like someone had toggled the Richie off-switch. Mike hoped it wasn’t something he had said. “Roger that, Billiam.”

“Hey,” Mike said, feeling suddenly bold in the wake of Richie’s vulnerability. “Listen. I can’t hang with you all now, because I won’t be off of work until 22:00. If you guys are free and still awake at that point, though, y’all can come to my place after I’m done. I can write down an address. I bet my roommate won’t mind.”

Bill’s responding smile could have lit up the whole park. “I’d love that.”

“Me too,” Stan said immediately, looking between Bill and Mike with a soft expression (well, soft for Stan the consummate professional, anyway).

“You want us there, too?” Richie asked cautiously.

Mike nodded, and was relieved to note that Stan and Bill were nodding too. “Dude, I could really use some friends. I’m fresh out of those.”

With that, the tension was broken. Richie let out a great howling laugh, and moved over to clap Mike on the back. “Oh, Mikey! You just hit the friend jackpot, my man. Just ask Stanley Uris! Richie Tozier’s a top notch amigo.”

Stan shrugged listlessly. “I mean, if you like people that try to give you sloppy handies every time they’re intoxicated.”

Richie’s expression twisted up, and for a split second, Mike thought he was gonna lose it, but then instead of yelling, Richie groaned. “They’re not sloppy, Stanley, Jesus Christ.”

“Jesus who?” Stan asked, reaching out to yank on Richie’s sleeve, which presumably was meant to signal that he was kidding. “Anyways, yes, the three of us will be there, Mike. Bev?”

“That depends,” she said slyly. “Is your roomie hot, Mikey?”

Mike couldn’t help but laugh at that. Ben was an objectively handsome man, but he was less sexy than he was warm and comforting. “He’s a beautiful, wonderful guy, Beverly.”

“Then of course,” she agreed, laughing her little laugh again. “Write your address on the back of one of these Duffys, yeah?”

Mike obliged her, and when he was done, Stan took the paper and folded it up neatly, ultimately placing it in the breast pocket of his shirt.

“All right,” Richie announced. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, Micycle, but we must go purchase overpriced cocktails now. Adieu.”

“Bye!” Bev called, and almost immediately, the two of them were off, merrily making their way to the main World Showcase walkway.

Stan and Bill lingered for another moment. They were both looking at Mike with expressions that made Mike feel like his stomach was going to explode with butterflies. He didn’t know what it was about these two that made him feel all of 17 again, but he wasn’t complaining. He hadn’t been this excited about romance since middle school.

“We’ll see you later, okay?” Stan said assuringly. He slid his hand into Bill’s after he spoke, and Mike watched their fingers entwine. Absurdly, he wasn’t jealous at all...any interaction at all between the three of them felt right and good.

“Have a nice couple of hours,” Mike said, trying to convey the giddiness he was feeling through his words. “Enjoy the fireworks!”

“It’ll be nicer when we’re all together,” Bill said meaningfully, and then he and Stan were disappearing into the throng, too.

It looked like it was going to be another late night for Mike Hanlon...but somehow, he didn’t think he was going to regret this one tomorrow.

One hour and three minutes until park close, two hours and three minutes until clock-out.

Notes:

we don't deserve Mike Hanlon

*Duffy is Mickey's teddy bear, apparently. He's very popular in Japan. You used to be able to go to a Duffy meet and greet in Epcot, which is fucking wild.

**There's a moment in the Star Tours ride where one guest on that particular simulator is identified as a "Rebel Spy". The cast members get to pick that guest. I have never been that guest, and I will be bitter about that until my dying day.

#reddie #reddie fanfic #mike hanlon/stanley uris/bill denbrough #mike/stan/bill #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #stanley uris #benverly #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #losers club #it 2017 #stephen king's it #disney au #mike hanlon is a good man

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