#Bruises and broken boards

[midnightorchids]

more jason todd headcanons

- he always keeps extra bandages with little cartoon characters for the injured children that he runs into while he's on patrol

- jason makes sure to take care of the kids. he even carries granolas bars and snacks in the pockets of his tactical pants to feed them (major dad energy)

- he also does weekly readings with the kids in his old neighbourhood. they always get so excited to see him

- the children think of jason as an older brother figure and will pick fights over who loves him more. jason laughs while holding back tears

- he's really good at playing chess and to be honest, he's good at most board games. people always think he cheats, but he really is that good

- he has a huge sweet tooth and will never say no to sugary goods

- jason's nose is crooked from being broken one too many times (it's still so perfect and beautiful tho)

- his hands are almost always bandaged up or covered in bruises. they're cracked and beaten, but despite this, they are the most comforting thing to hold in times of distress

- theres always empty tea mugs piled up in his apartment

- he sleeps with a night light (same, at my big age smh)

- he volunteers at the local library whenever he has free time and the elderly women adore him

- they always ask about his injuries and he tells them they’re from work. he tries to convince himself that he's not technically lying, so he shouldn't feel guilty, but he always does

- the ladies give him sympathetic smiles and bring him lunch and freshly baked cookies. he once again laughs while holding back tears

- whenever anyone shows him affection, he gets really shy and always starts to blush. he tries to play it off tho because he thinks he's a big, strong, tough guy (he's not, he's baby girl)

[8siangemini]

Everything I Do Is For You (Miles Morales!Earth 42 x Reader!Spiderwoman)

Summary: You are SpiderWoman on Earth 42 and Miles is still the Prowler. The Prowler has a mission to kill Spider-Woman due to the high bounty on your head. For months now he has been tracking you down and has focused so much on tracking you down that he does not realize you are right under his nose. One evening when you followed the Prowler back to his hideout you find something you wish you never saw.

Word Count: 2,282

Author’s Note: Based on how Earth 42 looks and based off of the Prowler’s mask I am going the make SpiderWoman a little more cyber-ish. Hope y’all enjoy :)

“Fucking A” You say underneath your breath as you look at yourself in your full body mirror you had in your mirror.

You had an interaction with the Prowler earlier tonight and the beating he gave you took a number on you. Bruises on your arms, parts of your suit torn up, scratches and cuts on your face, and worse your backpack and gauntlets were fucked up. Your backpack was initially a project for your engineering class that Miles had helped you with that slowly became a weapon you used while fighting. The backpack was compact yet was able to hold yourself up by large metal spider legs. Your gauntlets were like claws but had the same function to spew out webs.

But due to the Prowler multiple legs on your backpack were broken and he had punctured a couple holes into your gauntlets with his own claw. That was until you were able to crush his claw while his hand was still in it. Your fight ended when you finally retreated before he could total your backpack. But luckily you are going to finally be able to find him.

“You think you won this fight Prowler?” You ask yourself.

You go to your desk that had multiple monitors on it and took off your gauntlets. You typed some things into your computer and pulled up a map and in the middle of the map was a moving red dot. You smile to yourself as you lean back in your seat and look at the dot like it was the proudest thing you had accomplished.

“Lucky for me, you ‘n I kept doing at each other’s gauntlets that you did not even notice the tracking device I embedded into your claw when I crushed your hand.” You chuckle to yourself, waiting for the red dot to stop to figure out where the Prowler hides out.

After a couple of minutes of movement the dot stays still. You smile to yourself and zoom out of the dot to figure out where the location is. You grab your mask again and pull it over your face and jump out of your window with just your webslingers, no backpack and no gauntlets.

You make it to the location and the only room that was still active with the lights still on was the one on the very top. You shoot your webs up at the railing and quietly and stealthily you land on the metal railing without making a sound. You peak inside through the windows and see the room was lit with a purple color. Gym equipment running across the window closest to you and at the end of the room there was a large connect web with a large map and multiple pictures of you.

You began getting scared. Looking on the web you begin seeing more and more accurate information laying on the board. Your age, the places you recently been, possible schools you go to, possible places where you would go as a civilian, and your nightly patrol routes. But the picture on the top of the board was what scared you the most. A printed out bounty poster of you. $900,000 on your head.

Just then two figures come into the room. The room was very dark but you tried your best to figure out who the figures were. Luckily the two stand under one of the brightest light sources in the room. Your heart dropped at the uncovered person, tall and slender, Uncle Aaron. Miles’ Uncle, in the same room as the Prowler. They were discussing something, like they were partners. They showed no threat to one another but you could still not believe what you were seeing, there was no way. Why would he be doing this sort of business? Then in front of him stood a slightly shorter figure, he was in the mask, the Prowler.

You carefully open the window quietly to try and hear what they may say. The Prowler’s claw was off laying on the table his actual hand was bandaged up with blood staining the gauges. Just then his mask begins to move, begins to open up. You stare with eyes wide open to make sure you see who the Prowler is. Your heart begins racing, eager to find out who the Prowler is.

Then your heart drops, breaks. As the mask disappeared two braids fell down, you knew those two braids. The mask completely disappears and there he stood, Miles, with furrowed brows. Your Miles, your boyfriend, but also your nemesis.

“You’re gonna have to take a few days off with that hand like that.” Uncle Aaron says as he helps Miles take off his jacket and shirt, leaving him shirtless.

“Yeah I know. What do I tell (Y/n)?” Miles asked which pirked your ears up. Miles exams his hand and you begin to feel guilty that you were the one to hurt your boyfriend so badly.

“Just say you cut your hand or some’.” Uncle Aaron quickly says. “You haven’t told her right?” He asks strictly and Miles just shakes his head.

Miles kept on looking down at his hand with his eyebrows furrowing and his eyes glaring down.

“I’m gonna get her, for sure. The next time I see her, I’m gonna get her.” Miles says with determination. His voice was laced with venom and determination, it shook fear throughout your whole body right down to your core.

“You sure as hell better. With that money,” Uncle Aaron says as he points at the bounty poster at the very top of the web. “You, your mama, and your girl could live in luxury. So you better get her the next time you see her or else the cops are gonna get suspious.”

Was he going to use the money for all of us? Is this where the money comes from whenever he gifts you one of your many pieces of jewlery or the multiple pairs of matching Jordan’s you two have? This was the reason why he never picks up your calls late at night whenever you wanted to call him while you were on patrol. This was the reason why whenever you came by his place to make sure he was safe after your nightly patrol he was never there. He was also patrolling too. He had a night life full of violence, violence you should have prevented as Spider-Woman. But in the end you had to admit it was him, the Prowler, that kept causing the violence and fear in Brooklyn.

Uncle Aaron goes to the claw and picks it up and begins to examine the damage you brought upon it. His eyebrows furrow but soon his eyes widened at the slightest bit, he found it. He plucks out a small red device crammed into the mess of the claw and looks at Miles. He holds out the small device to Miles with a pissed off expression, knowing full well on what it is.

“Miles!” Uncle Aaron yells. “Do you know what this is?” Miles just shrugs. “A tracking device Miles! A tracking device!”

Just then you shoot my webs at the top of the window and use your momentum to break through the window, landing in the center of the room. You place your hands on your hips as you turn your head back and forth to crack your neck.

“Let’s try this one more time, Prowler.” You say.

You begin webbing up Uncle Aaron down to his knees and you quickly knock him out cold with a punch to the jaw and his body falling limp to the ground with a loud thud. You web both of Miles’ shoulders and use your momentum to kick him in the jaw. For a couple of hits you kept on doing the same thing, using your momentum to kick him in various of areas until he finally caught your foot with his good hand. He yanked you down and pinned you down with his two knees digging into your two thighs, causing enough pressure to create bruises. His good hand tried to hold both of yours but you were able to keep on escaping for at least one of your hands to throw a punch at him.

You did not care that you were punching the shit out of your boyfriend, he wanted to kill you for a price. He wanted to kill you for money. The person you love the most wants to kill you. He also kept secrets and kept on telling lies to you. Yeah, you were doing the same thing but he was doing it because it was a violent and dark job. All of your glamorous and luxiorous gifts he gave you, you were know questioning if the bought those with the money from these dirty jobs. It made you sick to your stomach.

“You’ve been lying to me Miles!” You yelled at him as he kept trying to pin you down. His eyes widened at the slightest bit.

“How do you know my name?” He asks as he manages to finally pin you down properly.

“What? You wanna kill me? Kill the girl that bandaged you up when you were all bloody without asking any question?” You yelled as tears began to fall through your mask. Miles expression started to somewhat soften. “You gonna kill the girl that was there for you when your dad died?”

Miles slowly starts to reach his bad hand carefully towards the edge of your mask. Your breath started to quicken as his hand started touching your masked face.

“I thought you said that you would burn the world down just for your girl?” You say meekly as tears still start beading from your eyes.

“(Y/n)?” Miles asks and carefully takes off your mask.

Face sweating and bleeding and eyes full of tears. Miles stared at you with his eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Kill me Miles.” You whispered.

“What?” Miles questioned.

“Kill me!” You yelled. “If you want the money so bad then just kill me now!”

Miles looked so broken, so betrayed. He could not believe you kept a secret like this hidden from him. He slowly let go of his wrists.

“Yeah,” You started. “Doesn’t feel good does it? Knowing your amor has been keeping a secret from you for so long? Imagine how I felt about you just a couple of minutes ago when I found out you were the Prowler. Imagine how I feel knowing I was the one that hurt you.” You say with a voice full of pain but Miles stays quiet for awhile.

“Miles say something!” You demand.

“I wanted to do this job for you.” Miles whispers. You look at him confused.

“What?” You ask.

“I wanted to do this job so that I could plan our anniversary.” Miles begins to explain. It was true, your guys’ anniversary was now only less than a month away. “I wanted to plan a nice dinner with you, get you nice things, and give you money for your engineering projects you want to carry out.”

Now everythings just washed over you and all you could feel now was guilt and regret. You regretted the fact that you beat the shit out of Miles, you were mad at yourself that you were the reason he wanted to kill someone, just so he could get you some nice things.

“I-I am so sorry Miles.” You begin to apologize.

“Why are apologizing ma? I should be apologizing for getting you roped into this.” Miles chuckle and you could not help but laugh a little. He began to get up off of you and offered his good hand to help you up.

“For not telling you about,” You start as you wave your body over your tattered suit. “This.”

“Then I’m sorry for not telling you about,” Miles says as he begins to sit on the couch and spread out his arms to jesture to the apartment. “this.” You laugh a little as you scan the room.

“Prowler huh?” You say through a laugh as Miles smirks a little while he slouches into this couch a little, spreading his legs and adjusting his pants.

“Spider-woman huh?” He says with a cocky smirk.

You smirk back and bend down to give him a deep kiss. He places his good hand on your hip as his tongue roams your mouth. You pull away a little bit and go back to standing up with your arms crossed as you scan his body.

“I gotta admit,” He leans forwards and places his hand on your hip and draws you in to stand inbetween his legs. “Tu te ves hermosa mami.” (You look beautiful, Mami) which causes you to smirk and chuckle.

“Then I’ll have to admit,” You place your hands on his bare toned shoulders as you lean down and peck his lips. “I dig you in the suit.”

You two stay like that for awhile as you rub his neck and he squeezes your hip every now and then. An idea comes into your head.

“Why don’t we make a deal?” You ask him.

“What is it, mami?” He asks you which causes your stomach to flip.

“If you stop messing with me as Spider-Woman I’ll make sure you won’t get caught by the cops.” You proposed and Miles raised an eyebrow in interest. “I have connections and have a little,” You raise your hand up away from Miles’ neck and your hand begins to emit yellow electric sparks and glitches. “advantage when it comes to hacking.”

Miles looks up at you with a smirk and he guides your hips down to lower you to his level.

“You have a deal, mami.”

[writtenbymoonflower]

hii!! i hope this is where requests go! but i was wondering if you could do either a remus x reader or poly x reader- (would rather poly but idk what you prefer) where they’ve been getting bruises from somewhere, but they don’t rlly notice it until it’s like finger prints somewhere, it could be like an ex harassing them or something? something along those lines of them being protective and hurt/comfort <33

hi sweetness! sorry it took so long! poly!marauders x gn!reader

cw: mentions of physical abuse from coworker. post-trauma stress, swearing

1.1k words

You had been growing increasingly skittish. Before these series of incidents, your boyfriends had been able to touch you whenever and wherever with little reaction. (with the exception of pleasant shivers). Sirius seemed to always have his hands in your back pockets, James had a habit of coming up behind you and nuzzling into your neck, and Remus, though not very tactile, would brush his hands appreciatively over your hips and waist. But in the past few weeks, your boys had been pulling back. And you knew the reason, you knew it was your fault. 

It had started with slight flinches. When Sirius gripped your shoulder affectionately and you jumped, eyes wide with fear. At any other time, the press of his fingertips would be pleasant. But when he squeezed the broken skin- broken skin he had no knowledge of -you winced and whimpered in pain. He immediately pulled his hand back, concern notched between his dark brows, and you immediately began reassuring and apologizing. You told him that you were just tense, that his touch was unexpected but not unwelcome, but he had still been careful since then. After a string of similar circumstances with James and Remus, they had all been handing you with kid gloves. 

Your behavior had changed as well. You had swapped your normal tank tops and tees for crew neck hoodies and sweaters, long sleeves to cover the purple and green spots littering your arms. Your face had been permanently tense in an attempt to stifle grimaces from rising up. You were sore, mentally exhausted, chronically anxious, and your boyfriends could tell. You had been constantly reassuring them of you being fine, but you could see their suspicion growing with every attempt. You could feel the tension thick in the air, attempting to rear its ugly head. 

Despite every attempt to seem normal, you still flinched when James touched your back, trying to pass behind you. 

“Right behind you, lovely” instead the usual comfort James’ voice carried, it put you on edge, making you inhale sharply, tensing your whole body. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled, shaking your head and squeezing your eyes shut, urging the panic to leave your body. Only when your breathing slowed down did you realize the crippling silence that had taken over the room. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweet thing?” Sirius probed, unusually careful. He was eyeing you suspiciously over his laptop screen. You quickly fixed your face, grateful for the distance the bar island put between you and your investigating boyfriend. 

“Yup. I’m all good, just startled me ‘s all.” You went back to chopping the vegetables in front of you with slightly too much vigor. The boys were still silent. You quickly changed the subject. “Remmy, can you grab the turkey from the fridge for me, please?” 

“Sure, dovey.” He walked behind you to get to the icebox. You made sure not to shudder as he made his way. He stopped, looking over your shoulder. Every nerve was standing to attention.

“You okay, honey?” You did everything to keep your voice from coming out strained. 

“I’m okay.” Remus sounded slightly confused. “Here, sweetheart. Your sleeves are going to get in the way.” He reached over to roll your sleeves up. A sweet gesture at its core, but you still froze in panic. He pulled them all the way up to your elbows. You just stared at the cutting board, wincing when James hissed, quickly making his way over to inspect further. Sirius took his computer glasses off, nearly catapulting himself over the bar. 

“Fuck, baby. What happened to you?” Sirius went straight to the issue. He grabbed your wrist, tilting your stained flesh towards the light. There were small, round splotches on the delicate skin of your wrist. Before you could find an excuse, Remus took your wrist. When he held your arm, his fingers fitting almost perfectly into the marks, he inhaled deeply.

“Who the fuck did this.” Remus bit out. James reached over to place a hand on his shoulder and Sirius gave him a pleading look, but nothing was going to calm him. Usually it would be Remus calming Sirius down, but when Remus’ fierce protectiveness comes out, nothing can pull it back in. In these cases, Sirius acts as the calmer one. 

“Rem, it’s ok-” You started.

“It’s not fucking okay! Someone put their goddamn hands on you and I need to know who did it.” Despite his voice growing in volume, he was still handling you ever so gently. James still moved between you and Remus, suspecting that Remus’ extremely visible stress would only put you more on edge. 

“Sweetheart,” James started, keeping his voice calm, even as it wobbled with worry. “Is this why you’ve been so tense lately?” Before another denial could form on your tongue, James continued. “Please, lovely. You can tell us. We won’t be mad, we just want to help you.” His dark eyes were searching your face, looking for any shred of emotion to cling to. 

Everything just felt so raw. You knew you were being ganged up on, drowned with affection and it was all too much. You pressed your lips together to keep them from wobbling but it was no use. Your eyes filled with hot tears and sobs started to wrack your body. Weeks of pent-up hurt came spilling out. 

“I just-” You struggled to get the words out between too-fast breaths. The boys caged you in, but for the first time in weeks, you felt comforted rather than clutched. 

“Take your time, baby. It’s okay. We’re not going to leave you.” Sirius smoothed your hair out of your damp face. 

“T-they hired someone at work. I-I used to know them.” You struggled. Pausing to suck in small bits of air. You could see questions spinning in their heads, but they didn’t interrupt. “I guess I make them mad. I’ve always made them mad. I don’t mean to, but I just d- do.” 

“Nothing.” Remus’ voice was sharp, but terribly kind. “Nothing you could do would make this okay. This is not your fault. Never has been, never was. No matter how upset they are, they don't get to hurt you.” You kept shaking, hot tears dripping off of your jaw. 

“I-” You struggled. “I’ve been so scared.” When you said this, Sirius caged you in his arms. You knew this struck a nerve with him too. 

“I know, baby. I know. I’m so so sorry you’ve been dealing with this yourself. It must have been so hard. But we’ve got you now. You’re going to be okay.” You couldn’t get words out anymore, but it was okay. They would stay with you until you could. 

“We aren’t going to let them do this to you anymore, you hear me?” James pulled your face out of Sirius’ neck to make you look at him. “We’re going to fix this.” 

[suuuupernovaaa]

Clean | Hobie Brown x f!Reader

You got yourself into a little bit of a fight, and Hobie has to patch you up.

Mature. 18+. Mention of blood.

The cloth meets your tender skin, and you hiss and try to pull your hand away.

"Hobie, that hurts," you say through gritted teeth. "What is on that?"

Holding your hand tightly to your chest, as if to protect it from him, you look up to see an exasperated expression on his face.

"Stuff to clean it. Give me that back." He grabs your hand a little gruffly, and puts the cloth back on. When the sting subsides, it does feel nice and cool.

"Someone out to teach you how to throw a proper punch," Hobie says, dabbing the cloth gently, moving it up your arm to where your other scrapes are. None of them are terribly deep, except a slight gash on your thigh from, you think, falling onto some broken glass.

"I know how," you reply quietly. He moves to your other arm, and you feel the stinging again. "It wasn't much punching, anyway. It was like... clawing and shoving. It was chaotic."

He gives you your hands back, and looks down at your legs, noticing the cut on your thigh. He lets a whistle out from between his teeth, and stands up. He rinses out the cloth he's been using, and grabs a new one from his kitchen drawer. He puts more 'stuff' on it, and returns to you, sitting down.

"This is gonna hurt." He scoots close, so that your legs are between his, and without another warning, presses the cloth to your cut.

"Oh crap!" you shout, and you're annoyed when Hobie starts chuckling.

"Oh crap!" he mimics in a high-pitched voice, meant to resemble yours. He places a large bandage on your leg, and a couple others on cuts that look a little nastier on your arms, and then sits back. "Think you'll survive," he comments. "Now, you need to tell me why you were in a fight. Looked like a couple of cats in a bag when I arrived."

You turn away, looking from where you sit at his kitchen table over to the TV, which is showing the news. Hobie always has the news on, even though he hates it and everything they ever talk about.

"It just, escalated. She was a fan, I guess, of the band. And she asked if I knew you, and I said yes. And she said... some not nice things. She was just drunk."

You're his whore, then? Do you think I could get in on some of that? I'm sure he's not very picky. I mean, look at you.

You can feel the way she grabbed at your stomach, pinching it. It felt like something scripted out of a bad teen movie, except it was really happening, and she just wouldn't stop.

"What did she say?" Hobie asks. When you look back at him, he's leaned forward, eyes narrowed, lips pursed.

"It doesn't really matter. It's over."

"It matters to me."

You shake your head and wave your hand in the air, as if to dismiss the conversation. "Really, Hobie. It was just, I don't want to relive it."

He reaches out and places a warm hand on your bruised knee. "Tell me."

You roll your eyes and sigh. "She said like, I must be, uh, sleeping with you and your standards must be low because... I'm like, fat, or whatever."

Hobie sits up, his back straight as a board, his eyebrows raised and his jaw a little slack. "And you beat the shit out of her?"

You draw your line into a straight mouth and nod. "Sort of. I mean, I can't fight but, she was bleeding and crying at the end of it. I was bleeding too but, I wasn't crying."

He nods, as if in approval. "Why does she think we're sleeping together?" he asked. "She's seen you, at a show or something?"

"I didn't get a whole backstory, Hobie. I guess so."

"Hm." He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Must've noticed how I look at you. Everyone has. 'Cept you."

How Hobie looks at you? You try to think of what he could be referring to. Sometimes when he's on stage, he finds you in the crowd and smiles. But, you're good friends, so that doesn't seem all that exciting to you - does it seem that way to everyone else?

"How do you look at me?"

"Like I'd like to fuck you, Y/N. Like the shape of your body is all I can think about, and it really doesn't fucking matter what anyone else thinks about it. It fucking keeps me up at night."

It feels like you've been slapped in the chest, and all the air has left your lungs. Your mouth is instantly dry, and your legs feel weak.

Hobie is so dry, so even-toned, it's hard to tell if he's joking or not - but would that be a funny joke right now? Hobie is a lot of things, but he's not insensitive, and he certainly wouldn't try to hurt you on purpose.

"It does?" you ask finally.

He leans forward again, bringing his face just a few inches from yours. "I want you, Y/N. I thought I'd made it obvious, but now I see, I didn't."

You lick your bottom lip, and Hobie glances down at your mouth.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask, and a soft moan escapes his mouth, as if asking for permission turns him on. You feel his fingertips on your cheek, running upwards, until he cups your face in his hand.

You should close your eyes, you think, but the sight of him coming towards you is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. His soft brown eyes, his full lips, his sharp cheek bones, his glistening piercings; you want to remember every sharp edge and round corner.

He pauses, just before your lips meet and whispers, "Anything you want to do to me, you can."

[cheriladycl01]

How the fuck has a bird been the reason I DNFed - Grid x Driver! Reader

Plot: Y/N is racing in Silverstone when a Pigeon flies into her and is stuck to her while she's driving at 200mph around the track until it starts to fly away but gets pulled under the car and causes Y/N to crash out.

Credit to umlewis for the GIF

"Y/N you are currently P2, Lewis ahead 2.6 second gap" your radio engineer says.

"Copy, increasing" you report.

Sky Sports: Commentator - It's really been a fantastic race at Silverstone, with only 4 laps left to go, it's looking like a Lewis win, Y/N behind him in P2 and Oscar Piastri who just overtook Max Verstappen. WHAT'S THIS Y/N JUST HAD A BIT OF A TWITCH ON TRACK! She remains steady but... was that debris? Commentator - Lets look at that on-board, to me it looks like Y/N's had a bird attack. Oh woah yeah look at that, it flies straight into her. She flinches which is what that twitch was, but she's recovered so well and the birds still in there with her. Commentator - Let's look at that radio.

Y/N Radio: Y/N - A fucking bird just flew into me Radio Engineer - Copy that Y/N - What do you mean copy that, what do i do. It's covering my vision from the left with its wing! Radio Engineer - Go into turn 14, and try shift it off. If not then pull it off on the straight Y/N - I'm driving 200mph and you want me to take my hands off the wheel?

As you swoop round that corner the bird manages to jump out all on its own, without you having to nudge it, where you were slower. However next thing you know as your speeding down the straight is you see a large mass get sucked under you car. You car jumps slightly with the intrusion under the car and you spin a little, recovering it once again.

"Fuck fuck" you mutter to yourself as the car starts to spit the engine.

"Did you just take the bird under the car?" you engineer asks and you let out a small whimper. You couldn't believe you'd just killed a bird with your car.

"The car's fuck-" you start, but something gives out in you car and in a freak accident your car skids as you attempt to break. However with the motion of your car clipping the race edging you car flips over multiple times. Where you car was flipping, the gravel wasn't much help to slow you down, and you colliding into the barriers was the only thing you remembered.

Sky Sports: Commentator - And what a nasty crash that is for Y/N, really unfortunate where she was gaining on Lewis. And i think that's a red flag because of the amount of debris and that crash. Everyone's being called back to the pits and the Red Bull Team are looking extremely worried for their youngest driver. Commentator - this just isn't looking good David, no Marshalls have arrived on scene, Y/N isn't replying to her Engineer... everyone in the pits looks worried. These are those crashes that, you just really don't know the outcome...

Y/N Radio: Radio Engineer - Y/N please come in, Y/N are you okay? *Static* Radio Engineer - Y/N, the Marshalls are nearly with you, if the radio is broken, please just give us a hand gesture of something. *static* Radio Engineer - Christian, she's not replying Y/N - How- Radio Engineer - Y/N! Y/N - How the fuck has a bird been the reason I DNFed

Sky Sports: Commentator - Her voice sounds a little strained but, she's getting herself out that wreck as the Marshalls approach. The car engine has just caught alight as well, so the Marshalls will need to look at that.

You pulled yourself out, before putting a week thumbs up to the fans who were all standing round near the barrier waiting to see if you really were okay!

Marshalls came running over, two of three going to defuse the car and the others coming to check on you.

"You okay kid?" a man asks you, you had your arm wrapped round the front of you, by your ribs. They were most definitely bruised for sure.

"Smells like a fucking fuel infused Christmas dinner" you shout over the loud noises of the crowd and the car being put out before pointing at the roasted Pigeon on the floor next to your car.

The medic bursts out laughing, happy to see that you were okay and cracking jokes.

"Fuck, I just lost P2" you say kicking some of the gravel. You look up seeing the medical car come up to you. You walk over to it explaining your okay, but they refuse saying they need you to come in for observation.

After a long time in observation coming out with a mild concussion, bruised ribs and a sprain you were sent back to see the last few laps of the race. You saw some crew from various new channels film you, making you wave and smile.

You saw Christian and he immediately came from the Pit Wall pulling you into a hug.

"Hey its okay, it's okay! I'm just glad you are okay. That was a freak accident and there wasn't much else we could have done" Christian says rubbing your shoulder.

Everyone was happy too see you, Max ended up overtaking both Oscar and Lewis, coming in first place as a make up for what happened with you.

After the podium you were directed to post race interviews.

"Well, Y/N what a race that was. Could have been a race win but ... talk us through what happened" Will says looking at you and pushing the mic forward.

"Well, its uncommon but yeah. I was driving, pigeon flew into my cockpit and gave me the scare of my life. It hit my chest and helmet hard which caused that spin. And from there on it was a shit show, and I ended up crashing. Considering that wasn't a crash with another car, that's one of the worst I've been in! I blacked out and don't remember too much" you explain and he nods in thought.

"Yeah, you definitely had us all worries there! That's up there with the nastiest crashes I've witnessed. We're just all glad your okay!" he smiles and with that your sent off.

You went online to see everyone making memes of you and the bird and your funny radios.

All the other drivers had messaged you to make sure that you were okay, and you'd been treated to dinner by Max and Christian who felt bad about your scare today.

But overall, if you ever see a bird on the track again, you'll probably cry!

A/N: Just a small little drabble!

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo

[staratie]

i’m real. i’m here.

prompt from @nightprompts

sfw-ish, mentions body injuries, some forms of torture, language summary: after getting rescued from sadistic kidnappers, you were frantic, unsure if the voice you’re hearing are theirs or your pirate’s

Zoro

“I’m real. I’m here.”

After he helped you onto the ship, he pulled you into a hug. It wasn't like him to give that type of affection, so the crew was caught off guard.

When you felt his arms around you, you instantly tried to punch him off, thinking he was the man squeezing your body while putting a knife on your throat.

“Fuck you, let me go!” You screamed. Trying to find your sword was futile because you remembered the man taking it away. Little did you know that Nami was holding it.

“Calm down, it’s Zoro.” He said gently, easily evading your punch.

Hearing his name snapped you out of your vision. When you saw his eyes looking into yours with concern, yours bubbled up and you leaned your forehead on his chest.

Sanji

“I’m real, I’m here.”

On the beach, Sanji was carrying you bridal style. He was holding you close and kissed the top of your head as the crew ran to the boat.

You felt so limp, so helpless in his arms. Your body had purple bruises, and cuts on your legs.

Despite your injuries, you shook yourself free from Sanji’s grip, almost falling to the sand. “Let. Me. Go.” You growled.

“It’s me!” Sanji exclaimed. “It’s me, Sanji.” He repeated, kneeling next to you. Your eyes were bloodshot, making you look hysterical. It took you a minute to make sure that Sanji is Sanji. When he whispered your name, your eyes brimmed with tears and you melted into his warm embrace.

Luffy

“I’m real! I’m here.”

He was insistent. He wanted you to know that it was him giving you a piggy back ride, and no one else.

Your full body weight was on him. He didn’t mind though. Knowing you were safe with him was all that mattered. However, when the sedation started to wear off, you started kicking and screaming, screaming how you didn’t want to go under again.

He didn’t mean to make it worse, but Luffy tightened his grasp, trying to prevent you from falling.

“Go eat shit, asshole!” You yelled, freeing yourself. Luffy didn’t want to do this, but knocked you out with a (soft) punch. You effortlessly fell backwards and luckily didn’t suffer any more injuries.

Usopp

“I’m real. I’m here!”

Usopp was worn out from the fight but still managed to bring you on board.

Your arm was broken and you had a swollen eye. Astonished by how someone can be so cruel, Usopp grabbed some ice from the freezer and gentle placed it on your eye.

“I’m telling you I don’t know where they are!” You whimpered, wincing when your arm lightly touched the kitchen floor. “Let me go…”

Usopp sniffled and wiped the tears off his face. He chastised himself from not getting there in time to save you.

“Let’s get you to bed.” He whispered lovingly. “I won’t leave you alone this this time, I promise.”

[cal-flakes]

hi babe <3 I just wanted to say congrats on 1.5k! you def deserve it! can I request dealer Rafe x reader with “I’ll be here when you wake up”? Maybe she’s gotten really hurt and he’s just at her bedside or something! I’d love to see him go crazy over her <3

╰┈➤ prompt eleven, dealer!rafe

warnings: light swearing, mentions of stitches.

“get the fuck out!” he bellowed, bursting through the door in a flash, not giving the nurse’s horrified expression a second thought. “rafe it wasn’t his fault!” kiara plead, coming between the two. “wasn’t his fault? why was she out there in the first place, huh?” he snapped, his eyes flickering between the boy and her, bruised and broken.

“look man, she asked if she could have a go on my board, i didn’t know she had no idea how to surf..” jj argued, pushing away from the chair at her bedside, coming face to face with her seething boyfriend.

“i told you, maybank. if you ever, ever— let anything happen to her, i’d fucking kill you. so i suggest you fuck off, and don’t come near her again, alright?” rafe growled, nostrils flared as he puffed out his chest, revelling in the fear in kiara’s eyes. “c’mon jay, we can see if she’s okay later..” she muttered, tugging on the back of jj’s tank top.

sighing in relief, he let himself relax for the first time since he got the phone call as he watched the door close behind him. “i’m— i’m sorry about that, alright? is she going to be okay?” rafe mumbled, turning to face the nurse, who clutched her clipboard tight.

“i assume you’re the boyfriend?” she asked, eyes flickering to the girl laying on the bed. nodding frantically, rafe moved to perch on the edge. “she’s going to be fine, but she’ll need a lot of rest. a hairline fracture on one of her ribs, and she took a nasty bump to the head, knocked herself out cold, but she should be waking up shortly”

nodding, he muttered a quiet thank you as she left the room.

—

“rafe..rafe?” she croaked weakly, groaning as the pain rushed through her, deciding against turning look at him. his eyes widened quickly, rushing to her side immediately. “i’m here angel, i’m here..” he cooed, stroking her tatty hair away gentle, careful not to brush his hand against the growing bump on the side of her skull.

“what happened?” she whimpered, wincing as she took a deep breath, noting the unfamiliar feeling in her chest. “surf accident, you were with the pogues..” he sighed, deflating at the thought.

“oh..” she groaned, fighting against the yawn overriding her face muscles. “please don’t be mad at jj, it wasn’t his fault..” she whispered, allowing her eyes to flutter shut again. “i’m not baby, i’m just worried about you..” he spoke softly, lying as if he hadn’t already informed barry of the situation. “m’tired”

“go to sleep sweetheart, i’ll be here when you wake up, alright?” he whispered, a small frown curling at his lips as he looked over her injuries. “m’kay..love you..” she mumbled, her breathing deepening as she fell back into a slumber.

[mintmatcha]

cw: cisfem reader, sex work mention, slight blood mention

“You don’t belong here.”

The man jumps, surprised, then dissolves into a chuckle as he brings his drink to his lips. There's something familiar about this face, hidden under the swollen cheekbone and bruised fat lip, but you can't place where you know him from. You apparently marvel too long, as the stranger cheeks grow redder by the second.

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Um, yeah.” You gesture up and down him, “You’re stiff as a board and you tried to order food.”

The stranger scoffs into his drink, genuinely insulted for a moment before he dissolves back into his smile. There's no airs about him - a rare occurrence for the clientele here- and that knows you a bit off guard. "What’s wrong with ordering food?"

You ignore how the bartender shoots you a look when you slip into the seat beside your tall blonde and simply gesture to the place as if it explains itself- dim mood lighting, men in suits, women in dresses that barely cover anything. There's a woman on stage, perched on all fours and writhing ever so gracefully, arching her back as she slinks on the floor. Her quirk activates for a moment and her skin shimmers with a kaleidoscope of colors, a fairy under neon lights.

This place has the decency to call itself a gentleman's club. It has polished glasses and comfortable seats, but that doesn't change what it is. It's a strip club. Through and through. It's lacquered shine doesn't change anything underneath. It still reeks of malintent.

"What’s wrong with ordering food?" he repeats. He places his drink down and you take it before he can react, bringing it up to your lips with a playful grin. When he doesn't protest, instead just watching you with wide, wide eyes, you take a sip. It's strong enough to make your chest bloom with heat.

"I don't think they have food here."

"They do," he replies.

"Then you're going to pay six thousand yen for three bites of food." Your lipstick clings to the rim as you hand it back to him.

"Well," he sniffs, flinching at his own crinkled nose. It must be broken; there's flecks of dried blood lining his fulcrum. "Have you ever tried it?"

"Clearly not."

He takes a long chug from his drink and finished the glass. When he gestures for another, your lipstick has smudged on to his cheek. "Maybe it's worth the money then."

You laugh, and it's not your normal practiced giggle. It's real and loud enough that the bartender shoots you another look. He knows what you're supposed to be doing here, and it's not hanging with the slummiest man in the room. When you meet his eye, there's a bit of a silent conversation between you two.

I know, you try to tell him, Let me have my fun.

"What are you doing here?" You turn back to your current play thing. The man shrinks slightly, a sheepish smile creeping back onto his face.

"Long night," the stranger mumbles, "Needed a drink and, well-"

He looks towards the stage, where a mouse eared girl spins on her pole, dark braids the only thing covering her tits. She's short and thick in the places that make you look longer than you should

"Some pretty things to look at?" You finish for him.

He tears his eyes away and back to you. You don't miss how they flicker down, how they soften when you scooch closer.

"Does that make me a bad person?"

"I think it makes you a guy," you shrug. One of the better guys, in fact. The unashamed ones get grabby and mean; this one talks to you like he considers you a person.

"What's your name?" he asks suddenly. You debate giving him your real one for a second, but then you adjust your legs and feel the bite of your stiletto straps on your ankles.

"Star."

"I'm Taishiro."

You regard him again, soaking in all the little details about him. He's tall- insanely so. There's a fair amount of muscle on his frame and you think maybe, under those bruises, he's pretty.

"You a boxer, Tai?"

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I am," he hesitates, "How'd you know?"

"Well, your nose is broken, so you definitely fight, but you aren't a hero," you gesture to his clothes. Oversized sweatpants, and a loose long sleeve - he looks like someone that's cut weight lately. "I know all the heroes in the area, and you aren't one of them. I would have remembered your pretty face."

The stranger draws back a bit, brow scrunched with confusion, but a smile creeping across his face. He must not get compliments much. You slyly check his finger for a ring and find it empty. Good, but that doesn't mean anything. Lots of men take off their rings.

"And you aren't a bad guy or a villain. You don't have that scent to you."

He also doesn't smell like anyone else. If he slept next to someone, there'd be lingerings of them.

"Villains have a smell now?"

"To me, they do." You nap the side of your nose, "It's a quirk thing."

Your quirk sounds more useful than it is. There's a scent to bad intentions, something that lingers

He rolls his head to his shoulder and finally relaxes fully. "You can sniff out crime? Full on McGruff the Crime Dog?"

You mirror him. Ear to your shoulder, a slight grin tugged onto your lips, you say: "A dog? Are you calling me a bitch?"

The stranger blanches. His hand flies to his face so quickly that you're worried he's going to hit himself.

"Oh, geez, I didn't-"

You lean forward with a tinkle of laughter and pat his thigh. The muscle is tight and corded through the thick fabric. Messing with him is easy. Too easy. You almost feel bad for riling him up. "I'm teasing. I'm like a bloodhound."

"How does it work?" Taishiro asks, "What do I smell like?"

He smells like home cooking, with spices and herbs you can't quite place. It's homey, it's warm, it's familiar in ways you can't quite place. There's an edge in there you can't quite place, not quite sour or sweet, but just off enough that you know he's not being 100% truthful with you. You suspect his name isn't what he says, or his boxing career isn't exactly that.

You can't judge. Your name clearly isn't Star.

But, then again, he moves so earnestly that you have a hard time assuming he's bad in anyway, especially next to some of these men. One of them, an older man you unfortunately recognize, keeps looking at you. His smell is sweet in the same way rot is.

"It's a secret," you reply, "Just keep on behaving and you won't have to worry about it."

He laughs at that, big and booming enough that a couple of the girl walking around look your way, and you can't help but join it. You think, if you had met him anywhere else, if you were someone else, you'd pursue this further, let something develop between you.

But you aren't anyone else.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks, suddenly, and you suddenly are hit with the guilt of reality.

"I gotta be honest with you." You peel your hand from his thigh. "I don't come to strip bars for the tits, baby."

"Do- do you work here?"

"Men buy my time." He stares at you blankly and you sigh. "My companionship for the evening. And my boss is going to get mad if I don't start schmoozing paying customers."

Taishiro furrows his brow, then widens his eyes as the realization hits him.

"Oh. Oh." He swallows and nods, clearly thinking this through. Just as you start to get up, he reaches for you, wide, wide, wide hand on your hip to keep you in place. "How much?"

Something inside you sinks. You should have expected this. "I didn't think you were interested in that."

"I'm not-- I mean, I am, but not like- well-" He staggers through his thoughts, "I just want to keep talking. Really. Maybe even split my food, if you want, but I don't- not that kind of companionship- just, like, normal companion stuff."

You sniff. He still smells the the truth, for the most part. You're not sure if you pity him.

"Two hundred thousand yen for the night," you say. "Ends at sun up- no exceptions."

"Oh," he perks up, head tilted like a puppy again, "That's it?"

"What does that mean?"

"I thought it was going to be--" he pauses and shakes his head, thinking better of it, "Yeah, that's okay."

"Do you think I'm cheap?" you gape.

"No, I just--" he laughs again, clearly embarrassed. "You just look really, really, really expensive?"

Despite yourself, with a roll of your eyes, you smile too. "Nice save."

He mum les to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. Most of your clients are experienced with this life, but the new ones are always like him. Nervous. Scared. You step closer to him, trailing your fingers down his arm. You both watch your manicured nails trace loose patterns.

"You really want to spend that kind of money to just have dinner with me?"

You'd fuck him. Of course you would. You expect him to crumble under the flirtations, just like the others did.

But he surprises you when he nods.

"Yeah, I am," Taishiro says, "Is that okay?"

You shrug. "It's your night. Anything you want is okay."

The hand on your waist squeezes tighter, but it's not sexual. It's comforting, almost normal.

"I guess I'll..." he says awkwardly, "Get cash?"

"Cash is good."

-

Taishiro knows this is a bad idea.

A horrible, awful, terrible idea.

Using his real name was stupid; he's lucky you incorrectly guessed his career. If he wasn't so thin right now, you might have recognized him. He'll if he's not careful, you could figure him out anyway.

If the media gets word of this, his career would be ruined. His poor interns would never meet his eye again. The headlines flash in his mind: FATGUM CAUGHT WITH PROSTITUTE. OR ESCORT. WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE?

Well, he's sure they'd be more creative than that.

He shakes it out of his head. This isn't about sex. He's just... lonely. So, unbearably lonely. It's just a dinner, just something to stop him from going hone and wallowing by himself again. Sure, you're the prettiest thing that's ever talked to him-

He shakes that out of his head too.

[letoasai]

dp x dc Chronos Part 4

Part 1 - Previous - Master List

Danny woke up confused, stiff, aching. He didn’t know where he was, but he got the distinct feeling of déjà vu. Honestly, he was used to waking up dead tired. Heh, dead tired. For the last year or two it had even been his normal. 

The bone deep pain however was something he only had every now and then. He had gotten hurt often while trying to protect Amity Park but being seriously injured seemed to be left for special occasions. 

Memories came back sluggishly, and he didn’t exactly delight in them. His father breaking his ribs like he was a twig... Relishing in the pain he supposedly didn't feel...

His mother trying to pin him down like a butterfly on a board was an image he’d like to have erased from his mind forever.  Her weapon trained him him was almost underwhelming. When did he become used to it?

Unfortunately, he needed those horror driven moments. His parents' reaction to him had never been a sure thing before. Only speculation at best. He’d hoped their love for him would override their hatred of ghosts. It was what kept him under their roof. That hope that they’d still love him. 

He’d grown up with borderline mad scientists for parents and he’d always put that notion aside. It was its own box in his head. The Fentons and their questionable science. They’d been mom and dad first. Always, mom and dad first. He’d hoped to be Danny first to them. 

He wasn’t. Now he knew though, and he could free himself from that house and their neglect and dangerous excentrics. When things were safe he’d contact his sister, but he didn’t have parents anymore. Not living, human ones. 

He did have Clockwork though. Clockwork who had been at the right place at the right ‘time’ to save him one more time. He had Frostbite too, who would fret over Danny’s injuries while in the same room, and rage later, away from Danny’s senses. 

There was something overwhelmingly kind about that. Frostbite put Danny first and didn’t make him feel badly about his attachments. He worried more while Danny needed him. His anger could wait for later. 

His human parents hadn’t been much, but at least he had ghost guardians. 

It took a moment, but alarm slowly settled in when he didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t move well, a blanket tucked in tight around him. It was the slowly quickening BEEP BEEP BEEP that spiked his adrenaline but when his eyes cracked open, he wasn’t met with a white ceiling and a very obvious ghost shield. 

The room looked more like a barely used guest ro-.... That déjà vu again. 

Danny looked around, the door had been left cracked open, on his other side… Oh… The curtains were open. Even in his human form, his obsession could easily take root. Space. Was the bed closer to the window than it had been before? Did it matter? He had such a good view. Looking out into the vastness of space could hardly be considered comparable to looking up at it from Earth. It was beautiful and distracting… 

Danny reached up on reflex alone and grabbed the oxygen mask someone had put on him at some point. With a flicker of power he turned it intangible and pulled it off of his face before dropping it on the floor. 

He…ached. It was a literal, bone deep kind of ache and it occurred to him all at once that it was just because he was an idiot. He’d just… transformed. Just like that. Like that was a good idea. Like he wanted to impress Wonder Woman and instead came off as immature doofus with a death wish. 

Death wish… Funny… 

Danny inhaled slowly, feeling the air fill his lungs that were tender around bruised ribs. Bruised but maybe not broken anymore. Healing left him exhausted but the open curtains and the expanse of space before him would help with that. 

“Highness. Danny. You’re awake.” Diana was pushing the door open, looking fairly relieved. He wondered if he’d have even been able to tell if she didn’t have the same stress markers that Jazz had. The small tics and twitches of a woman who was normally so poised and put together. Someone unflappable who in some cases had really seen it all. 

There was the squint to her eyes, the way her shoulders lowered when she walked in and saw him awake. The octave of her voice betraying how tightly wound with worry she’d been. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so weird to introduce Diana to Jazz some day. He’d probably regret it instantly. They’d likely get along a little too well. 

Wonder Woman came in, dragging the seat closer again and the bed was definitely closer to the window than it had been before. 

“You gave us quite the scare. How are you feeling?” 

“Like i got hit by the GAV.” Danny muttered, inhaling carefully again. “I’m…sorry. That was stupid. I knew better.” 

“I’m quite certain you did, but the concussion you’ve recently sustained probably did not help that.” Diana said, and he was weirdly having a hard time deciphering if she was just politely giving him an out for acting like an idiot or if she really thought a concussion would alter his decision making. 

“I have a concussion?” he asked slowly. 

“You do. Among a myriad of other injuries all in various states of healing.” She gave him a firm nod. “I apologize for bringing medical personnel in here without your permission but you were losing quite a bit of blood and we had very little knowledge to work with. Chronos did say one of your forms healed faster than the other. I understand that better now.” 

Danny winced. “Sorry about that.” He did have a headache but he attributed that to passing out from pain. That and the fact that it was easier in his living form to focus on Diana and not just the space beyond the window. “As long as there’s no experiments or intentions of ripping me apart molecule by molecule, then it’s okay.” 

Judging by the way Diana’s expression darkened, that wasn’t the thing to say. “Is that something you’ve had to worry about in the past? Chronos did say you were removed from your home. Is there anything more you can tell me?” 

“Eh…” Danny made a face. He wanted to sit up properly in bed but he knew that was going to set off a chain reaction of pain and he wasn’t interested in that yet. “Clockwork really didn’t say anything? Figures.” 

“There was one thing he said.” Diana said, after a short pause between them. “He said that you would ask for help if you wanted to.” 

Danny snorted. “Brillant, CW, thanks.” He reached up and rubbed his face tiredly, he could still just barely feel the marks on his cheeks from the mask. “Yeah, it’s a worry. It’s a worry for everyone like me. I’m not a person after all. The US Government says so.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Danny blinked slowly and hopefully hid the way his body tensed. He wasn’t a fool, he knew that tone. Sam had that tone. Val definitely had that tone. It promised hell for someone. “Uh, yeah? The Anti-Ecto Acts? The Ghost Investigation Ward? Did we cross wires somewhere?” Danny paused. “I don’t remember. Did we talk about the fact that i’m dead? You know, Ghost King?” 

Diana’s lips tightened unhappily, and she was sitting more rigidly then he remembered during her last visit. “Yes, Chronos called you the Ghost King. I recall you as well mentioning ghost guardians. It was also impossible to miss your lack of pulse when you arrived, and your sudden pulse returning when you switched forms. Is this normal for ghosts?” 

Danny appreciated the way she kept her voice calm and curious despite the bits of anger he could taste in the air. She wasn’t trying to make this an interrogation but the need to know details would eat at anyone. 

“No. There’s only two others like me. To my knowledge.” he amended. “I’m something else. Half dead and half alive. It’s… yeah, that’s probably why i’m here. I can be in the Infinine Realm no problem, but my living human half needs, you know, a living realm from time to time.” 

He plucked at the blanket around him, not sure where this own nervous energy was coming from. “I’m meant to be a balance. Something like that anyway. I can’t go home so Clockwork…was trying to be helpful by finding me a new one.” 

“Which you have.” Diana said gently, hesitating for only a moment before laying her hand on top of his. “You still have your home with me. That has not changed. If you are in danger however, you are in the right place.” 

“Am i?” Danny asked, trying to make his expression as blank as possible. “You’re the Justice League. You follows laws and…stuff. The law says i don’t feel pain. Says i’m not a sentient being. Says it’s completely legal for me and others from the Infinite Realm to be hunted. That we are free game to be caught, tortured, experimented on and exterminated. Legally, you should be turning me in.” 

“Hah?” It wasn’t a happy sound. “I understand a few of your fears, but Justice will come first. You are talking about the genocide of an entire species. An entire realm.” 

“They did try to nuke us once…” 

Diana’s free hand tightened into a fist. “The Anti-Ecto Acts, yes? We will be looking into them. I’ve little doubt that it is already on the immediate docket. You are obviously an intelligent being. I have witnessed myself the pain you are in. Not only are you a king, and a child, you are my family. I would never turn you in.” 

Danny averted his gaze and looked at the wall, hoping it hid the way his bottom lip trembled. His own mother was happily planning to hand him over. She believed her own biased research. 

He’d known Diana less than a day. Less than a couple hours? “I…” His voice was clogged. 

“You focus on healing.” Diana whispered, squeezing his hand. “Resting. Let me have a turn with this mess.” 

He hiccuped, but he didn’t dissolve into tears. That meant he was holding himself together right? “Y..yeah. Sure.” 

“Are you in pain now?” She asked. “We weren’t sure of your exact biology for all you appear perfectly human. Only mild pain killers were given to you while you were out. Small doses in case there was an adverse reaction.” 

“I dunno.” Danny said quietly. He tried twice to clear his throat. “Maybe. Yeah. I’m so used to it, i don’t know anymore.” He laid there for a moment, too afraid to even move and find out what would tug and pull. “I am, you know, perfectly alive right now so i think i would like a little more pain killers. It was never an option before.”

“I’ll call for a nurse.” Diana said with a nod, hitting a button on the side of his bed that he hadn’t noticed before. 

Danny heaved a sigh, overwhelmed with the direction his day had taken. “Probably better that way. Frostbite says i can’t just hide in my ghost form and expect my human form to heal naturally. He says that should be for emergencies.” The problem with that train of thinking was that it was always an emergency. He couldn’t have just bled all over his bedroom in Amity Park. His parents were oblivious unless it would be a headache for him. He wasn’t going to explain to them that he was bleeding because they’d shot at his ghost form two hours prior. 

“Frostbite?” 

“He’s my doctor. He’s chief of the Yetis.” 

There was something…hilarious about Diana just nodding and mentally filing that information away for later. She didn’t raise a brow or question the existence of yeti’s or anything. She just took him at his word. “Then i imagine he knows what he’s talking about. I wasn’t sure since you were brought to us in your white haired form.”

“Probably because i was brought from the Infinite Realm. I’m obviously liminal and that changes a few things but Frostbite still doesn’t like me to depend on that alone. He treats me like i’m normal.” 

Diana smiled weakly, but the upturn of her lips did express her amusement. “I’m starting to think i will have a new question to ask every time you open your mouth, Highness.” 

“Danny.” He corrected with a small smile of his own. 

“Danny.” Diana agreed. “Your usage of the word liminal?” 

“Oh, uh. Basically death adjacent?” Danny shrugged. “A lot of people in Amity Park are liminal because of their proximity to the portal my parents made. My sister and three of my friends are very liminal. My parents are liminal too though they’ve never noticed. It’s spread through the town.” 

“Portal.” Diana sighed a little. 

Ah, yeah. She was probably right. It was a lot of information when it was only passed on in bits. “Yeah…” Danny muttered. “Maybe you should get a notebook. Write this down…” 

He paused when a nurse came in after knocking. Her smile was friendly but she was clearly there to do a job and not loiter when Wonder Woman was right there. She did greet them both and told Danny how relieved she was that he’d woken up while setting up his IV that would double as both pain control and hydration. 

She didn’t even notice Danny taking the glowing green post-it off her back. He instead just held it in his fist until the nurse finally excused herself. 

It’s a good view. Frostbite will come to you. 

“Cool.” Danny muttered dryly, suddenly exhausted before deciding to eat that note too.

“Yes?” Diana just raised a brow at the action. It was kind of funny how that was the thing that threw her off. She’d been observing the nurse the entire time with a keen eye and had only moved herself to pull out her cell phone.

“Clockwork often communicates via vague ass post-its. I’m taking that one to mean i need to heal as much as i can by my obsession with space before Frostbite shows up to scold me for stupidly hurting myself like that.” Danny heaved a sigh. Frostbite’s disappointed looks could be weaponized. 

“And eating it?” She asked and if Danny wasn’t mistaken, she’d be laughing if she wasn’t so composed.  

“Ectoplasm. The reason the post-it glowed. It’s good for the dead. No sense in wasting it.” Danny offered a one sided shrug, and relaxed back against his pillows. He sagged, rubbing his face tired and glancing out the window. 

He’d love to get some paper and chart out what stars he could see. 

“I guess you have questions? If you really think you can help with the Anti-Ecto Acts and all…” 

Diana had her phone on her lap, ready to take notes. “I think the most pressing question i have…” She leaned a little closer. “How did you sustain your injuries? Who hurt you?” 

Danny frowned, his entire body almost closing in on himself. He should have expected that, but somehow hadn’t. “My parents…”

~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging started to get difficult but a bunch of people recommended a master list that i'll update. It's linked at the top ^__^

Also i never planned past part 3 so we're in uncharted territory now.

[halfmoonshines]

soft spot

damon salvatore x reader

summary; you're injured in a fight with a rogue vampire who breezed into town, and Damon is being weird about it

hurt/comfort

----

You tried to stay hidden in the shadows outside of the streetlight, but your rapid heartbeat probably would've given you away either way.

"Who the hell is this guy?" You heard Damon mutter from the spot he was tossed just a few feet away from you, dusting the dirt from the trash cans he'd squished like cardboard. His ice blue eyes spared you a quick glance but didn't say a word, trying not to draw any attention your way.

Damon intervened as Caroline was struggling to grapple with the stranger. In the span of a moment, she was on the ground groaning with a broken arm and he had launched the assailant to give them a chance to regroup - right toward you.

You couldn't help the little gasp that you emitted, no matter how much time you spent around these creatures this was a vampire. One in particular who would have no hang ups about snapping your neck.

Per their supernatural hearing, it didn't take long for the mans vicious senses to find you, and took half as long for him to have a bruising hand around your neck.

The sound of Damon yelling your name was distant in the background, you were focused on the threat literally snarling in your face.

"Don't you smell good?"

That was as far as the stranger managed to get before Damon had the broken handle of a broom protruding from his back. His grip slipped off your throat as his body slid sideways and you toppled to the ground, heading bouncing off the pavement hard enough for you to see stars.

Damon's voice was faint to you again, but you could hear him begging for your attention. Caroline was in the background too, in panicked discussion with someone over the phone. You couldn't get your eyes to focus though, hair becoming wet and warm.

The eldest Salvatore's touch on you was feather light, his mouth still moving with words he wanted you to latch onto but you had already lost the dance with consciousness.

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The first thing you were aware of when you woke up in a bed was that it was decidedly not yours. The next thing you noticed was that you weren't in any pain, just a bit stiff when you went to sit up from the bed. Someone had definitely given you blood, which was against every rule her and her friends had discussed, but from the smell of the sheets behind you - Damon wouldn't have cared either way.

You made your way out of the room and down the stairs, vaguely knowing the layout of the boarding house from your handful of times actually coming inside. Over the last few months you had become dangerously intertwined in Elena's grapple with the supernatural, despite Bonnie's vehement advice to go as far as possible. You were emancipated, you could switch schools and move to Pennsylvania.

No, you couldn't. Once your conscious had been opened to everything around you, once you were aware of the dangers of the dark - you could never ignore that. Better the evil you know.

Speaking of.

You came upon Damon in his favorite spot, a tumbler of bourbon in his hand while he leaned up against the fireplace. The suit jacket he had been wearing earlier that night was discarded on the couch behind him, a small amount of blood on the collar of his shirt still.

"You always look so broody." Poking fun at him might not be in your best interest, but you figured you'd give it a go. Over the last few months, your and Damon's relationship had morphed into something you couldn't quite understand, but moments like these had seemed to become more comfortable between you.

"I believe you're confusing me with my much broodier younger brother." Damon's words were laced with sarcasm, but his tone didn't have a hint of amusement.

You felt suddenly awkward, in his space and home. Just because you had gotten kind of comfortable lately didn't mean he wanted to be around you.

"Well, thanks for the whole life saving thing." You began to babble nervously, a faint pink glow to your cheeks. "I'll get out of your hair. Sorry for taking your bed, I don't even know what time it is-" You had begun turning toward the door, making to just leave and find a way home. How you could this age and still flustered in front of attractive men, especially murderous ones was beyond you.

Damon appearing in front of you almost made your heart stop, hair stirring at his incredibly fast movements. He was barely a foot away, his piercing gaze holding your confused one. From this close you could smell just how much he had probably drank.

"Are you... okay, Damon?" Your voice wavered a bit under the heat of his stare and you saw the muscle in his jaw working overtime while he looked like he was debating whether or not he wanted to actually say anything to you.

"You don't have to thank me for saving you when you were in danger because of me." His eyes had drifted from your eyes to your neck, voice whisper quiet.

Vulnerability was the last thing you expected from the man standing over you. "What do you mean? It wasn't your fault. Just wrong place, wrong time and I so happen to be the weakest link." You hoped your voice conveyed even a bit of humor.

His eyes snapped back up to yours, head tilting slightly while he assessed you. Damon's hand rose to grab a lock of your hair, twirling it around his finger in thought. Your breath caught in your throat, feeling like you were on the precipice of something.

"My weakest link, maybe. Have I told you how much I like your hair?" His voice was still quiet, an innocent lilt.

Your mind was reeling, half drunk on his closeness and hazed by confusion. Where was this coming from? Had he drank a small liquor store and now he was confusing her for her much more appealing best friend?

"Damon, I'm not sure how much you've had to drink, but I'm happy to brew you a pot of coffee. Does that even work for vampires?"

You had started to pull away, making to turn toward the kitchen but Damon was infinitely faster than you. His drink was discarded, one hand going to your upper arm and the other to your waist, tugging you back into his vicinity.

"On the contrary, I don't think I've ever been so sure minded, sparrow. I'm sorry for not protecting you tonight." His voice was tight now, the warmth of his hands tingling down your body.

"It's not your fault, or job, Damon." Your voice had quieted to match his, all humor leaving. You didn't know where this guilt had come from, but it was misplaced. Since you'd met Damon he'd made some bad decisions, but you had also seen his sacrifice so much for the sake of the team. Even if others didn't acknowledge it, he didn't need to add anymore to his plate.

"I'd like it to be. My job." His reply was lightning quick, eyes pinning yours in place.

Were you dreaming?

Damon's signature smirk was visible for a split second, telling you that your confusion was written all over your face. "I think that I'm asking you, in the most coming of age movie way, if you'd like to go steady?"

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send any fic requests here!! all comments/criticisms/requests welcome

[jellyfishsthings]

WARNINGS: sorry this is quite small , so they do have a reunion but I have kind of left their relationship as it was. Angry reader, lovestruck Five. Reader can read minds and direct thoughts...

part 1

He was laying in stacks of hay. His mind was spinning and a memory resurfaced behind his eyes.

Soft fingers trailed his arms. Deep watchful eyes stared back at him and their foreheads touched. The only thing that covered them was a light gray sheet. His arms were tightly wound around her, his hands either buried in her hair or trailing the arch of her back. They were talking about everything and nothing. She could talk his ears off and he wouldn't care. The sun rays warmed their skins and Five watched as the sunlight adored his wife.

The memory was gone as fast as it appeared to him. The happiness that flowed through his veins left a sour taste in his body. He could hear his siblings arguing around him. He could feel the blood staining his hands hours later after he fled the commission… again. Only this time he took the board with him.

Hoards of assassins appeared in front of the small shed they hid, trying to form some kind of plan. Was she out there?

His hands shook as he tried to keep up his cold uninterested facade. Trying to seem distant when in reality he was frightened to his core. The Handler was standing opposite of him. Sporting that creepy, horrible smile that put him on edge. Next to her is standing Lila, Diego's crazy friend from the asylum. And on the other side, a young woman sat kneeling on the ground. Her hair was cut short just above her shoulders, not in their usual length. Her cheeks were hollow and her eyes red, hunted in a faraway look. His wife, his beautiful, strong wife, sat with her hands shackled barely sparing him a glance.

“I believe that you remember her, Five.”

Diego looked at him dazzled, trying to place the pieces of the puzzle together. But Five only had eyes for her.

“She hasn't been of any use to us.”

Her words barely registered to him. She looked broken and yet strong. She held her head high, proudly showing the bruises that adorned her beautiful face. He could feel his heart shatter in his chest because somewhere deep down he knew that he was the reason for the bruises, of the broken look in her eyes. He wanted to destroy the Handler and anyone else who dared to lay a finger on her. Don't.

Her soft voice echoed in his head. She had read his thoughts and probably anyone else's thoughts in the vicinity. Her plan formed into his head and they fell into their familiar rhythm. But something was different. Nothing would be the same. Because even if by law she was his and him hers…. he had lost her, simply as that. Rather was when Vanya showed she was glowing all around and everyone was stunned. But not her, she took the opportunity and struck the Handler behind the neck while rushing towards him and his brother. He worked quickly on her bindings, setting her free. She smiled at him and the breath was cleaned out of him.

That was when she slapped him.

“What the hell?”

She quickly grabbed rocks close to her and started throwing them at him.

“Would you stop? I swear to God-”

“You pretentious fuck. How could you? You, hypocrite. Why must you always plague me?”

“I'm sorry. Please just-”

“He is sorry, he says. Do you ever mean what comes out of your atrocious mouth?”

“Please, sweetheart. Can you -”

“What was that? Huh? You have the audacity to talk to me? After everything you have done?”

Five felt a weird mix of love and irritation. He had missed her. And her yelling at him was a familiar scene. There was something comforting to it, besides the rocks that he dogged. He could hear the faint sound of his brother laughing somewhere behind him as he watched the presumable love of Five's life, giving him an earful.

Suddenly, everything was put to a stop as a scream sounded, and they ran towards the barn, where Lila was fighting with his siblings. And just as he was about to put an end to it, she grabbed the black lathered briefcase, their one way out of this hellhole, and disappeared into a vibrant bright blue light. He quickly grabbed hold of each of his family, and while they argued around him, he drew on his powers, reading himself and the others along him into another time jump. He looked at his wife's face and her eyes and found the remaining strength he needed to gather. Her terrified look was the last thing he saw as blinding light engulfed them. Everything could go wrong, but as long as he was by his side, he felt invincible.

words: 700 - something

[phantasmiac]

dabi who has no concept of having loving sex until he meets you

tw/cw: smut (mdni), afab!reader, soft dom!dabi, mentions of bdsm, one allusion to prostitution (not reader)

wc: 0.6k

a/n: thought i’d always be too embarrassed to write anything sexually explicit and i AM 🤧

dabi who’s always gotten off to watching sadistic, hardcore bdsm porn and is completely unfamiliar with the concept of sex that means something. i know there’s a whole debate on whether or not he’s a virgin but in my head he’s had his fair share of hook ups with random people he’s met in sketchy places, maybe even coughed up some money during times he was especially horny, pent up and desperate.

and then he meets you and suddenly his dick doesn’t twitch at the sight or even the thought of his hand wrapped around your throat or his belt keeping your hands tied up behind your back? it confuses him because he knows he’s attracted to you, so why isn’t his body reacting the way it’s supposed to? you notice his dilemma, and his definition of fucking hasn’t exactly been doing it for you either. it was alright the first few times, when the sexual tension was at an all time high and you were eager to have him in any way you could; but now you just feel empty, even when he’s balls deep inside you.

he’s very hesitant when you suggest taking things at a slower, more intimate pace. stiff as a board (just not in the right area) when you take the lead at first, gently kissing down his torso and lacing your fingers through his. but then it’s his turn to be on top. “take your time”, you remind him, hands cradling his face as you guide him down your body. you take his scarred, motionless hands and cup them around your tits. and even though he’s skeptical about this whole thing, he’s willing to learn and try it out if it means getting his dick to function around you again. you nod at the confusion in his eyes that makes him look oh so innocent, encouraging him to go ahead and touch you.

he circles his thumbs around the buds, slowly. gives them gentle licks, slowly. all while keeping his eyes locked on the pretty little face that had his pants all tight before he actually got you in bed for the first time. he doesn’t know whether to blame it on the way your lips part or the broken affirmations that leave them; maybe it’s the way they’re left all red and bruised after you pull them by your teeth, or the way your eyelashes flutter all seductively to expose the hearts in your eyes when you look back at him from above. maybe it’s all of it. all of it has him more than just hard; it already has him leaking pre cum. it’s fucking embarrassing, how he’s made a mess while just mouthing at a pair of tits. but even more embarrassing is the way he ruts against the mattress at the sight of the pleasure written all over your face while he eats you out; slowly, until he can’t take it any longer and starts lapping at your cunt like a man starved.

before you, dabi had never thought to press kisses down someone’s thighs or to their clit. never cared to ask if he was making them feel good; a stark contrast to the way he demands to hear your moans and affirmations. to hear that he’s making you feel good. he could have easily fucked every person in the country without asking to see their face, but grips your chin to force you to look at him so he doesn’t miss a single one of your expressions. if there’s an after you, whether it be after a breakup or a falling out, dabi falls right back into his old habits. because dabi is a sadomasochist; he’ll treat anyone like shit and enjoy it, whether it be emotionally, physically, mentally or sexually; anyone but you.

a/n ii: i don’t think smut will become a regular thing on this blog i’ve just always had this interpretation of dabi and i had to let the world know

[miley1442111]

remember me.- f.odair

a/n: MY FIRST FINNICK FIC. I love finnick so much, he's such a king. this wasn't intended for a fem! or male! reader so imagine what you like :))))

summary: after being taken by the capital you're brought back to district 13. you remember the real finnick, right?

pairing: finnickodair x reader

warnings: general hunger games topics, feeling broken, mentions of pain and hurt, mentions of wounds and general capital hijacking.

You sat up in your hospital bed, a familiar brokenness in your mind. Who were you? 

You were a victor. You were a capital darling. You were a product. 

You felt the restraints on your wrists and sighed in discomfort. When would you be free? When would you ever be allowed to live? You knew someone had taught you that dream, the dream of being free, but you couldn’t remember who. He had… blonde hair? White teeth? A sweet tooth? You had also been taught that that same man had hurt you, that he’d left you to the capital, left you to die. 

The images and pictures of your broken and bruised body they’d shown you. Shown what he’d done to you. They flashed in and out of your brain, a constant torment. Everyday he visited you, but never came in. You could see him against the glass, watching you cry and scream. Watching you beg and plead for them to take him away. 

You had been badly beaten, at least that’s what you’d heard from the nurses. You had broken bones and stab wounds, and severe mental damage. They assumed you had been sleep deprived, psychologically abused, and ‘hijacked’. 

A woman walked into the room, a kind smile on her face, and behind her was the man. The man who'd left you to the capital. 

“Please,” you begged. “Please don’t let him in, I-I didn’t do anything, I-I th-thought  it was s-safe here. Why is he here?!” Tears streamed down your face as you pleaded with the nurse and he started crying too. Why was he crying? He hurt you. Right? 

“Darling, please,” he pleaded, clenching his hands. “Remember me.”

“Y-you hurt me…” you trailed off, a real memory coming back, one of him and you at a beach. Him running up to you with a surfboard under his arm, the warm sun on your skin, making the swimsuit you were wearing bearable. He smiled at you and kissed you, then brought you to the water and helped you onto his board, teaching you to surf. When you fell he’d held you to him and kissed you, whispering words of encouragement and making bad jokes to bring a smile to your face. His hair was soft, even when it was wet.

 Soft, that’s what he was. Your finnick was soft. 

Then everything came back, all at once. Finnick had fought tooth and nail to save you, but couldn’t get to you in time, he had to be pulled off of the person taking you away, just to keep him safe. “Finnick?” You shouted and his face whipped up, shock evident. “Finnick, you’re ok!” You braced your hands against the restraints and the nurse quickly unlocked them. He stalked over, picking you up in a tight embrace. It hurt, the bruises and wounds on your skin, and the broken bones inside all ached to be left alone. But he wouldn’t put you down. You didn’t want him to. “You’re ok,” you repeated, trying to convince yourself of the fact. Finnick was ok. Finnick was here. Finnick was here to keep you safe. You were safe again. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry darling, I couldn’t get to you in time- I-I shouldn’t have-”

You cut him off with a kiss to his lips. This kiss was a promise. A promise that you would be together no matter what. That any flaws or shortcomings would be forgotten and dismissed. A promise that you loved each other. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled, tears falling from his pretty eyes, you brushed them away and kissed his cheek. “We’re ok again.” 

“We’re ok again,” you echoed, a sense of determination for your dream. Your dream of freedom.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Hello! For the shy!reader blurbs, could I request swimming with Steve but it’s the first time he’s seen reader in a swimsuit? Also, happy Friday :)

The Indiana sun was baking. The height of summer had arrived, July bringing heatwaves and endless blue skies that lacked clouds, a heavy humidity that lasted well into the night, even when the sun had sunk past the tree line.

The beginning of the month also marked your eighth week as Steve’s girl, something he liked to brag about whenever he could, smile proud, eyes fond as he pulled you into his chest and reminded you pretty he thought you were. But the relentless warmth didn’t call for days spent wrapped up in each other, as much as you wanted to. Skin slick, hair frizzy, cheeks flushed and having Steve too near was more heat than you could handle.

Eventually, Steve’s parents left for whatever trip they’d been talking about for the last week, the front door slamming early in the morning, just as the sun was starting to rise. It woke you and the boy, both of you lying amongst the sheets, listening to the sound of their suitcase wheels rolling down the drive. A car door slammed, an engine started with a purr and then they were gone.

Steve grinned. “Wanna go for a swim?”

You laughed, almost too loud for the early hour, ‘cause Steve’s alarm clock read four fifty two and the sky was a pale pink, cotton candy and peach, the sun barely rising amongst the hazy clouds. But you turned to the boy, a smile growing over your lips when you saw he was serious, eyes too bright to go back to sleep. It was too hot, the thin sheets kicked to the bottom of the mattress, your skin already clammy from the warm air that leaked in from outside.

You nodded, grinning back at him and it felt childlike, it felt forbidden, it felt like an adventure.

Steve leaned over to smack a kiss to your cheek, uncaring when you mumbled something about morning breath, before he tumbled out of bed with more energy than you’d seen. The house was quiet, big and empty, and Steve Harrington came alive.

His parents had monopolised the backyard for the majority of the week, spending their time between the loungers and the pool, claiming that you and Steve were welcome to join them despite the way neither of them made much conversation when you tried.

So you spent most of the time in the shade of Steve’s bedroom, staring mournfully out of the window at the blue sky. The boy had said ‘absolutely not’ at the idea of the community pool, ‘cause it was filled with kids that weren't his and the last time he went with Robin, the girl had come home with a nasty foot infection.

You told Steve to go ahead as he sat waiting on the edge of the bed, already dressed in blue board shorts, breath now minty and his leg bounced with excitement as he watched you shuffle around his room for your rucksack, trying to shake off the sleep like old cobwebs.

Steve was already in the pool when you appeared by the back door, barefoot and swimwear covered with a shirt that was even too big for Steve. An old Hawkins High thing that had holes in the collar and it dropped just above your knees. You shuffled nervously, bare thighs rubbing together and although you had Steve had done plenty of fooling around, standing in front of him in broad daylight whilst wearing very little, wasn’t something you’d grown accustomed to yet.

He’d see every line of you like this. The curve, the dips, the pudge of your stomach, the soft dough of your thighs, each strip of skin lighting up silver with stretch marks, a sign you’d grown and changed and grown again over the years he didn’t even know.

There was a scar on your right hip from when you were ten, a nasty mottled thing that came from falling on rollerblades, skin hitting broken glass and sidewalk. There was a bruise on your shin, a purple and blue mark that you weren’t sure of its origins. You hadn’t shaved your legs in a day or two, a stubble growing back, barely seen but you felt it when you dragged a foot up on leg.

You pulled at the hem of the shirt and eyed the loungers.

“I can practically hear you thinking from over there,” Steve interrupted. He was treading water in the middle of the pool, tanned shoulders sparking wet, hair soaked and wild ‘cause he’d run his hands through it. Droplets clung to his lashes and he grinned at you. “Comin’ in?”

You nibbled at your lip, chewing until it stung and you squinted at the boy through the sunlight that had started to glare down a little more brightly. It lit Steve up gold.

“Maybe,” you said and your voice sounded too quiet, even to you.

It’s like Steve knew, even after only two months. The boy walked to the edge of the pool, to the shallows, water skimming his hips and he smiled up at you, hands out to his sides as if to say, ‘here, take a good look, babe.’

There was scars on his sides, marks you knew he didn’t like, reminders of a story he was yet to tell you. His shoulders were a little burnt, evidence of his refusal to wear sunscreen unless you were the one applying it for him. His arms were wrapped in muscles, broad and strong but his stomach was softer, his chest fuzzy with coarse hair and you knew he was considering the gym again after his father kept prodding at his sides and mentioning how the lack of basketball practice wasn’t doing him any good.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Steve said softly. “If you want.”

You knew there was no pressure in his statement. You knew you could’ve granted him a kiss to his damp cheek and left for a sunlounger, a book in hand as the sun came up, T-shirt covering you. He wouldn’t have minded, he wouldn’t have pushed.

That’s why you took a deep breath and grabbed its hem, pulling the cotton up and over your head without any other thought. Your red bikini stretched over all your curves and dips and bruises and scars and Steve’s eyes widened.

“God damn,” Steve immediately cried out, pretending to fall backwards into the pool. Chlorine scented water dripped at your feet and you flushed, mortified. “My girl’s a fuckin’ smoke show, Jesus Christ!”

You rushed to the pool, dropping yourself in as you swore at him, face on fire as you tried to cover his mouth with your hand. “You’re going to wake up the neighbours!” You hissed but you were grinning. You couldn’t help it.

Steve just used the opportunity to lick a stripe over your palm, laughing when you squealed and he hooked his arms around your butt, lifting you easily in the water. He smacked a kiss to your cheek and pulled you into deeper water.

“Givin’ Baywatch a run for its money, baby, shit, you gotta warn a guy next time.” He said it fondly, despite his smirk, all charm and flirt and it made you hide your face in his neck, too pleased. “I changed my mind, you wanna go back to bed?”

You pushed at his shoulder, rolling your eyes but you leaned in to kiss him all the same, heat rolling across your chest in waves at the way the boy was buttering you up. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t like it

..

[pherelesytsia]

Who did this to you? - 9

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Bruised and broken, Y/N, trapped in a loveless marriage, arrives at her best friend’s house, desperately hoping someone will help her, aware she cannot return to the estate of her husband.

Warning: fear, anxiety, Angst, swearing 

Word Count: 2.7k

Part 8

Chains, bloodied and graced with torn rotting flesh, moulding in the light of the wanning moon, dangled in all directions in the howling wind. Bones cracked under polished shoes freckled by grime and coated with rotting leaves. The lightbulbs among the broken were shining faintly, breaking the doom, the utter darkness ruling in the endless corridor leading into different vacant rusty halls.

The wind was howling, a lonely wolf, a hound greeting the full moon. Water dripped through the holey ceiling of metal and musty wood. The old building, far away from civilisation, with shattered windows barricaded by boards was surrounded.

The man clothed in a form-fitting suit didn’t bear a map, didn’t need a compass to find the right path. The faint stench of mould lingered in the stiff air. Rats fled in great haste, screeched and warned the brothers hiding in the holes in the ground and empty chests. A few dark grey strands illuminated the dark sea. Untroubled Thomas followed the path. His fingers tapped against the polished metal. He did not put his gaze over his shoulder, focused on the light showing the end of the tunnel. Deep hush voices exchanged brief words and the grin on his lips widened, thought of ways to harm the men who had dared to touch his wife.

Thomas tilted his head. The light hit the tip of his shoes, but the Shelby, a demon, the devil himself waiting patiently, remained in the shadows. Deftly, he leapt to the side, hiding behind the cargo crates stacked high from India, Africa and the far East. Footsteps echoed and a soft whimper, a kitten, a newborn calling for its mother, fell silent. More men, dark dressed creatures, followed the order with drawn weapons and waited for the signal. Thomas leaned forward, peering through the crack between the crates. Two men, shabbily dressed, stood in the light of the flickering yellowish bulb, but his keen eyes couldn’t find the source of the whimper.

            “The money?” the thinner one pecked, wiping the oil from his fingers on his trousers.

The taller one laughed, folding his arms in front of his bulging chest. 

            “The woman will pay us off. I called her. By the end of the day, we’ll get the money.”, “We should have killed his wife right away,” the other said, leaning against the cargo boxes.

            “Karl, I would have killed her, but the other guy came. We would have died otherwise. I know him, Solomons. He would have killed us,” he interjected.

            “And what are we supposed to do now, Jimmy?” Karl questioned.

            “And what will happen to us, Karl?” Jim asked.

Karl shrugged his shoulders. Eyes widened in shock, screams followed, bullets pierced flesh and grazed bones. Men in suits stormed the old run-down complex, a tsunami swallowing villages and towns. Closely followed by his men, Thomas entered the room, stepped closer with his gun drawn, fired and hit the bull’s eye, ran ahead, searched and cursed, but didn’t find the woman. Sweat cascaded his face, turned, and hoped the men could answer his questions, but the eyes had paled. Cursing, Thomas stared at his brothers opening the crates in the hope of finding Peggy in one of them.

            “Where is she?” Arthur asked, heaving.

John cursed, nearly fell into the crate. Perplexed, he stared into the distance, cursed under his breath, turned with paled features towards his brothers and mumbled a short prayer.

            The moon wandered on, over land and mountains, on and on, climbing hills and swimming over lakes and raging streams. Under the cover of the moon, ghastly shadows crept forth. Light burned in the mansion far away from civilisation, from towns and villages. The vehicles parked in front of the mansion were not neatly lined up. Curtains were drawn and didn’t allow to witness the people warming themselves by the flames, gnawing on the hardened biscuits and awakening the sense with the dark unsweetened liquid. The phone didn’t ring, and the bell didn’t announce a guest.

The clock was ticking, heels clicked against the creaking hardwood. Voices had died down, the women did not chatter as the gentle voice breathing delicate word into the microphone sang of love and gentle kisses. The women exchanged meaningless glances, glanced at the man they thought would never enter the house, who had settled down by the fireplace and was leafing through the book with his legs crossed, staring again and again at the doors and windows in search of grim faces pursued by evil intentions. Y/N warmed her fingers on the cup filled with tea and dipped her tongue in the warm liquid.

            “Don’t worry, they will be here soon. It’s just a matter of time. Don’t worry, my dear.” Ada breathed.

She flashed the shaking woman a smile, breathed encouraging words, but they couldn’t banish the fear from her heart.

            “They’ve been gone for a long time. At least three hours now.” Y/N breathed.

            “You worry too much Y/N/N. The Shelby can take something. If he’s not here by seven, then we’ll go looking for him together.” Alfie joked.

Y/N stretched her arms into the air. Sleep gnawed on her bones and the voice in her head assured her that all would be well, that Thomas was on his way back, that the door would open soon and he would stand with Peggy and a promise to change by her side. She counted the seconds, focused on the clock, yet Y/N had lost track of time and space a long time ago. Her eyes widened. The tiredness was gone with the wind. Groaning, Y/N jumped and threw the blanket away. A wall, the last wall of defence rose in front of her and a palm settled on her back.

            “Come, little one. We will go together. You stay here. I have everything under control. I saw a car.” Alfie said.

Y/N tried to argue, telling him to stay with the others, that she wanted to go alone, but no words crossed her lips and nodded. Alfie smiled, gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, stuffed his gun into the pocket, and guided Y/N away from the richly set table. Keys jingled. Alfie pushed Y/N behind him, but the young woman went ahead. The cold air brushed her skin and painted her cheeks. Brows almost touched. Y/N looked questioningly at Peggy, shook her head, and lips parted.

            “Peggy?” Y/N whispered, not believing her eyes, convinced she was about to awake from a dream.

She looked healthy. Not a drop of blood clung to the long white evening dress, looked like a woman on her way to church to walk down the aisle. The hair was laid in curls, dotted with pearls and glass shaped in tears. The bouquet, white and red flowers fell to the ground. A smile, false as a fox’s, sweet as a snake’s voice, spread on her lips.

            “You’re well?” Y/N questioned.

            “Why shouldn’t I be well? I am glad to see that you are well. I see nothing happened to you while I was away. I told you to wait for me at home. I could never have forgiven myself if something bad had happened to you.” Peggy spoke coldly, stoically, emotionlessly.

            “Where’s Thomas? He’s out looking for you. I was worried about you.” Y/N uttered.

Spreading her arms, Y/N wanted to enclose Peggy in a tight hug, but fingers clawed deep into the thin material covering her, forcing her to stagger backwards.

            “Alfie, can you please let go of me?’ Y/N demanded.

Y/N turned and stubbornly demanded to be let free, but Alfie shook his head.

            “Why do you have to make everything more complicated? Get in there and don’t do anything stupid or you’ll all regret it. Are we clear?”, “I wouldn’t do that.” Alfie interjected. He removed his hand from the pistol and rose his hands into the air after he pulled Y/N closer to his chest.

            “Peggy?” Y/N breathed, hoped the person bore a mask, but it was Peggy.

Colour drained from her features. Cold metal pressed deeper into her skin. Bloodshot eyes forced Alfie to step back and told him not to dare to waste a single thought about doing something he might regret. Questions nor curses crossed Y/N´s lips pressed into a fine line. A lonely tear cascaded down her left cheek and left a red burning mark on her skin. Y/N questioned her life, every decision she had made, every word and complain she had said to Peggy in hope she would aid her. Synchronically, Ada and Polly arose, aimed, but no shots pierced the air. Peggy chased Alfie away to stand by the wall and he listened and placed the weapon on the ground as the women as Peggy stood tall behind the crumbling shield.

            “Why?” Y/N inquired, her heart bursting through skin and bone.

Peggy laughed and combed through Y/N´s locks with her long light-coloured nails.

            “I should be in your place. It would have been so easy. But those idiots let you get away and then you were at my door and I just had to let you in. I called these fools. I knew they would be at the bar, and informed them that you were with me, that they should walk in and take care of you. I then set off here, wanting to inform all of you that something might have happened to Y/N. I would have taken your place, but this man had to interfere with my plan.” Peggy joked.

Her bloodshot eyes slid from one person to another and pointing her finger at the tall man settling down on the armchair by the crackling fire.

            “How would you have done it? The Shelby wouldn’t have to believe you. Nobody would have.” Alfie questioned, with his arms crossed in front of his body.

            “Nobody? Suddenly everybody was searching for Y/N. When I returned home, she was gone. I am a good actress, I had classes when I was young and played in the theatre, always the evil and wicked,” the woman huffed.

She chuckled.

            “Thomas would have believed me. I would have played the good friend, helping him through this rough path. I just wanted to play the worried friend. I would have helped to find Y/N and then after a good month the case would have gone cold. The postman would have brought a letter from overseas and the problem would have been solved. Thomas would have found a good friend in me and later a wife,” she sneered.

            “But they trashed your house.” Y/N breathed, eliciting a malicious laugh from the mad woman.

            “I was a bit angry and had to let my anger run free. My plan was perfect.” she huffed, stroking Y/N’s skin with the weapon.

            “You wanted to kill me?” Y/N breathed.

            “No one cared about you, you told me everything, your former husband barely cared about you, you slept alone, spent your days alone, were air for everyone, I didn’t expect anyone to care about you.” Peggy laughed.

Y/N gulped, nodded, and breathed a soft prayer, prayed for the safety of all of them a few steps away from her.

            “A confident woman. Why would I marry you?” a deep voice sneered.

Smiling, Peggy turned around, fixed her hair and let go of Y/N, but she was rooted into the ground, turning into a statue overgrown by moss.

            “All these months you’ve been using me.” Y/N

The veil fell, and the wind carried away the dense mist. Y/N balled her hands into fists, nails bore deep into the soft flesh, but no sound escaped her lips. She faced Peggy, unfearful of the weapon in her right hand.

            “You never told me to give Thomas a chance, to at least try to get along with him. You never said anything nice about him. When he gave me flowers or chocolate, you told me he’d cheated on me and feared I would find out.” Y/N whispered, her voice raising with every fallen word.

She remembered the forgotten, the lonely nights, the long calls, the endless hours spend in the small room and crying her heart out to the wrong person, hoping Peggy would help her like only a friend could.

            “We spoke on the phone when Thomas didn’t come back that evening and instead of telling me that he must be working but you swore on your parents’ lives that you saw him in the arms of a woman.” Y/N cried out.

Y/N faced her friend, unfaced and untroubled by the loaded gun.

            “I suppose that was a lie, too. Probably everything you told me was a lie,” Y/N whispered.

She remembered the nights she was pouring out her heart and the answers that were as false as the snake’s words. She raised her eyes and looked up at Thomas. The man swallowed, saw the questions in his wife’s eyes and smiled.

            “I was never unfaithful, Y/N. I was a terrible husband, but I was always faithful to you,” Thomas assured her.

            “I believe you,” Y/N whispered, but Thomas had heard the answer.

Y/N advanced, oblivious to the woman in the wedding garment, wanting to go towards her husband, but Peggy made it impossible for her to do so, getting in the way.

            “Enough of this sweet talk.” Peggy chuckled.

Metal dazzled the eyes. She grabbed Y/N by the collar, scratched her skin, pressed her tightly against him. And the men and women, apart from Thomas, recoiled with their hands up. Thomas stashed his hands in his trouser pockets and nodded, guessing what she would demand.

            “You let me out and nothing will happen to her.” Peggy requested.

The Shelby nodded, exchanged brief glances with his brothers.

            “Good, go, you know the way. You hand Y/N over to me at the door. I leave my gun here and you put yours away. Do we understand each other?” Thomas spoke.

            “I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands here, Thomas, but I’ll take your offer. But I want them out of here. I want them all out of here in the kitchen.” Peggy interjected.

Thomas gestured to his siblings to leave, nodding, indicating that they should be on their way, that they shouldn’t worry, but his eyes betrayed him. Slowly, they rose from the sofa and did as Thomas ordered them again to leave. Heels clicked against the hardwood. Hush voices exchanged words, and the door slammed shut.

            “Can we go?” Thomas probed.

Thomas walked ahead, showed the way, paused at the open door, pushed it wide open and motioned the woman to leave. His hands clenched into fists. He wanted to free Y/N from the woman’s clutches, heard the soft whimpering as Peggy grabbed her former friend. Teeth gritted. Peggy stopped and turned with Y/N.

            “Here you go.” she shoved Y/N in his direction.

Y/N staggered forward, threatening to fall like a soldier, but arms wrapped tightly around her body, pressing her tightly to his chest. Thomas breathed loving words into her ear, pressed his dried lips on her skin and pressed featherlight kisses on her cheek. He murmured a prayer and begged for her forgiveness. Sweat danced down his face. He pressed another fleeting kiss on her temple. Thomas put his hands over her ears, deafening her to the screams and bullets piercing the air and suddenly, after all this time filled with screams and prayers, silence reigned over the land.

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[definitelynotstable]

Trouble [Ghost x fem!Reader]

AN: hurt/comfort will ALWAYS be my fave.

Synopsis: You find yourself caught in an explosion during a mission. Ghost looks after you. Words: 1.2k Warnings: swearing, injuries Ghost x fem!reader (callsign Fern): Not explicitly romantic but there’s certainly a spark. SOFT GHOST <3 Slight hurt - lots of comfort. 

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

You knew something felt off about this mission. But you weren’t gonna sit this one out based on a mere hunch. Maybe you should’ve. Because now you were buried under a heap of rubble, ears ringing and head heavy. 

“Fern?” A voice called from somewhere in the distance. You didn’t know what was up and what was down. Gun shots echoed nearby.

You swallowed, coughing as dust clogged your mouth and nose. “Y-yeah?” You rasped as loud as you could. Comms were useless. 

“What’s your status, soldier?” Ghost.

You wriggled slightly, stopping as a flash of pain radiated up your leg. 

“Leg’s fucked, might be broken and a concussion.”

“Can you move?”

You bit your lip as you tried again, nothing budged. “No, sir. Something’s got me pinned.”

“Alright,” his voice called back, calm and stoic as usual. “Price? We need backup, Fern was caught in the blast, need some extra hands to move rubble.”

You couldn’t hear the reply. Your comms hissed with static in your ear. Blood dribble from your temple, down your cheek and into your mouth. The sounds around you were fading. Everything ached. You could rest, right? Just for a moment?

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

You woke to a searing pain with a cry. Someone was moving the beam which compressed your leg. 

“Fern?” A Scottish accent called out from somewhere behind you, “we found what’s got you pinned. Try not to move while we shift it.”

You groan as it shifts again. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to, Sarge.”

The scot huffs, chucking a chunk of concrete into the pile behind him. “Humour me, Fern.”

You cough again as a cloud of dust forms from the moving rubble. “Where’s LT?”

There’s a heavy thump and Soap groans with effort, finally uncovering your twisted form. He squats in front of you with a grin, patting your head lightly. “Getting a spinal-board - you sure are trouble.”

You squint up at the man and mirror his grin. “So I’ve been told.”

“Soap!” 

The man in front of you turns to the side and you see Ghost running, gun across his back and a spinal-board tucked under his arm. Soap gestures to where you lie amongst the debris.

“Hey LT, look who I found!”

Ghost doesn’t laugh, pushing past the scotsman and coming to kneel beside you. He pulls his glove off, tossing it to side. His scarred hand brushes your hair from your eyes. 

“Always gettin’ yourself into messes, aren’t ya?” He murmurs, fingertips ghosting the laceration on your temple. You wince but your lips quirk up. His hand lingers on your cheek for a moment, cobalt eyes intense as they meet yours. 

He stands, hand dropping away as he turns to Soap. 

“We need to get to EXFIL now, I’ll need your help to move her.”

Soap nods, shifting his gun to sling it over his back and out of the way. “What do you need me to do, LT?”

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

They manage to roll you onto the stretcher, Soap mumbling apologies while Ghost swears lightly under his breath at each noise of discomfort you make. 

They manage to get you to the truck waiting at the extraction point. Gaz is behind the wheel, engine running, while Price squats behind the open side door, his gun poised. 

You make to get of the stretcher, Ghost holds you down, eyes stern. “We’ve gotta rule out a spinal injury, Fern. Stay down.”

There isn’t room for argument in his eyes, Soap helps the Lieutenant slide the stretcher into the bed of the pickup. Ghost settling in beside you, his gun now in his lap as he surveys the area behind you. Soap joins the Captain and Gaz in front and the vehicle spurs forward. 

It doesn’t take long to get to the safehouse but everything feels bruised twice over by the time the truck comes to a rolling stop. 

“Please tell me I can get off this fucking slab of plastic, LT. Everything hurts.” 

Ghost looks down at you, eyes softening slightly. “Just let Gaz look you over first. Then I’m sure we can find you a bed or a couch to settle on.”

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

There’s a bang as someone lowers the side of the pickup bed. 

“Let’s see the wounded soldier then,” Price’s voice barks, his hat and beard coming into view, smiling but his eyes worried, “what’ve you done this time, love?”

Soap and Ghost slide the stretcher off the pickup and make for the safehouse. You look up at the Captain with a sheepish expression. 

“Picked a fight with a wall.”

“Oh yeah? Who won?” Price inquired, holding open the door for you, looking down with a grin.

“The wall.” Ghost interrupts as him and Soap lower you to the floor, Gaz brushing past with a med kit. 

You scoff as the younger sergeant wraps a cuff around your upper arm, taking your blood pressure.

“Put up one hell of a fight by the looks of it,” Gaz quips, moving your neck gently from side to side and getting you to squeeze his fingers and wriggle your toes. He cleans and wraps you leg quickly, a scarred and pale hand squeezes your shoulder as the antiseptic burns. Ghost.

“Thank you Gaz,” you huff, letting him ease you up as he gives the ok. Ghost silently moves forward to wrap an arm around your waist and helps Gaz deposit you onto the rugged couch against the wall. 

Price and Soap’s laughs echo from the makeshift kitchen, cupboards opening and closing as they look for food. Ghost settles on the arm of the couch and you slump against him, too tired and sore to sit up straight. He stiffens slightly before relaxing, moving to shift you over and slides off the arm of the chair to settle next to you.

Gaz rustles around in the med-kit before popping a few pills into his hand, offering them to you as Soap appears next to him with a glass of water. 

“Take these, I’ll give you more in a few hours. They should tide you over till RTB.”

You swallow them, sculling the water. Ghost takes the empty  glass from your hands, handing it to Gaz who returns to the kitchen with Soap where Price has managed to turn on a radio that looks older than you. 

Jazz crackles through the cabin and the hiss of a kettle sings as dishes clink. You sigh, sinking deeper into the couch and the warm body beside you.

Ghost clears his throat. You look up, pulling back. 

“Oh shit, sorry, LT.”

“’S’alright,” his chest rumbles, an arm pulling you back into his side. “Rest, Fern. You did good.”

You don’t have the energy to refuse. He is so warm and safe. You feel yourself drifting off, the murmur of voices in the background lulling you into a peaceful haze. You feel him shift beside you and your limp arms are threaded out of your vest. Someone tosses a blanket into your lap and Ghost whispers harshly at them to fuck off. Probably Soap. The lieutenant shakes it out before tucking it around you.

A hand brushes through your hair.

You sigh.

Everything fades to black.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

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