#Lamplight team

[ashitakaxsan]

“Spy Classroom” season 2

INTELLIGENCE IS THE MOST DANGEROUS WEAPON.YOU JUST DON’T HAVE THE LUXURY TO FAIL,ONE SLIGHT MISTAKE ENDS WITH YOU DEAD.

Spoilers ahead:

  “Thea, Monika, Annette, and Erna bested Corpse and his accomplice Olivia.So they have earned a break. Unfortunately, their relaxing vacation’s postponed, as they soon come face-to-face with Annette’s mother—although Annette herself has no memories of her past. While the emotional reunion initially brings everyone together, but soon fissures begin spreading throughout the team… Plus,a new ally is introduced:Captain Welter Barth”.

Who’s Barth?

  Captain Welter Barth is the Captain of the Military Intelligence Department. With origin and citizenship of Din he is a man loyal to his nation.He’s 24 years old, and with a body rigorously trained reaching strength,he takes his job as a captain seriously and scoffs directly anyone who disregards the power level of Din’s military.

In fact he senses that any spy team,with Lamplight particularly,gets to much praise for their work -while the soldiers and military officers risk their lifes on the war front.He’s a man of action,also an understanding* one who uses his rhetoric skills to boost the spirits of fellow soldiers.

He and Klaus have known each other a long ago,they don’t get along!

*He has a sixth sense on sensing the troubles up ahead,thus he read the malice coming from while Annette: "There is a great evil at work here, Bonfire--someone so wicked their soul is twisted to its core."

[liloinkoink]

i’m not focused on work at all today anyway experienced the thought “lamplight au but pokémon. Martyn w the partner pokémon of a shiny chandelure Ren that used to be a normal human man” and it has me a little bit hysterical

[rinhaler]

𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐌𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨

Baby I Know How To Use a Gun (gun.. gun)

18+, dubcon, vaginal sex, alcohol consumption, cheating, toxic!relationship (they are both toxic af), gaslighting, manipulation, coercion, co-dependency, gun inaccuracies (probably), gunplay ♡ physical abuse?, pussy drunk!megumi, choking, dacryphilia, daddy!kink, bruising ♡, spanking, masochism, minor dildo use, fingering,dumbifcation, pussy spanks, scratching, breeding kink, calls your pussy ‘she’.

words: 8k

Requests:

little pervy brother megumi!

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨

You Deserve Roses and You Know This

18+, dubcon, vaginal sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), nipple play, dacryphilia, pregnancy, abortion ideation, miscarriage, depression, adultery, breeding, creampie ♡, smoking mention.

words: 4.1k

By the Dim Lamplight

18+, fem!reader, noncon/rape mention, noncon filming mention, hybrid!reader, abuse, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome ♡, whipping mention, Fushiguro's have a Southern twang, branding, fingering, age gap (megumi + reader 20s, toji 40s), lactation!kink, tit sucking ♡ (duh), sir!kink, spanking ♡ (incl. pussy spanks), manipulation, pet names (sweetheart, darlin', honey), cheating, reader has pubes!, tummy bulge ♡, creampie.

words: 5k

Trigger Finger Ready and Got Nowhere To Run To

18+, dub/noncon, mentions of violence/murder, toxic!relationship, free use ♡, manipulation, jealousy, fem!Uraume, degradation ♡, praise, no prep, oral fixation ♡, size!kink, daddy!kink, choking (hands + belt), slight breathplay, exhibitionism, spanking, dacryphilia ♡, dumbification, creampie(s), calls your pussy “she/her”, slight cucking, oral (m+f receiving), restraints, fingering ♡, pussy spanks, squirting ♡, multiple orgasms, double penetration!(one hole), brief anal mentioning, breeding ♡, belly bulge ♡, pet names (princess, brat, good girl, sweetheart).

words: 15.2k

In The World My Demons Cultivate

18+, fem!reader, no smut, dead character, mental heatlh struggles, suicide ideation, grief/loss, drug abuse, pet names.

words: 3k

Two Lovers Entwined

18+, fem!reader, british slang (duh!), brief slut-shaming, size kink ♡, slight exhibitionism, dry humping, spanking ♡, cunnilingus, daddy!kink, vaginal sex, squirting, belly bulge ♡, creampie ♡, pet names (baby, princess, darlin', sweetheart etc.)

words 9.5k

Requests:

Toji & his bimbo sugar baby

Toji noncon w/ virgin step daughter

One night stand

Yakuza boss!Toji

Step dad!Toji is lonely and needs you

Toji + petplay

Yakuza!Toji + brat taming

Thirsts:

bloody knuckle fingering

Yakuza!Toji & Yakuza!Shiu spoil you

Step daddy!Toji making you watch porn

Toji w/ morning wood

𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

Am I (25F) The Asshole For Fucking My Boyfriends Older Brother (28M)

18+, dubcon, mean dom!sukuna, sub!reader, cheating, hate sex ♡, drug taking, weed smoking, blowbacks/shotgunning, heavy degradation, slight praise, fingering ♡, vaginal sex, sixty-nineing ♡, face sitting, squirting ♡, pussy spanking, noncon filming, coercion, manipulation, daddy!kink, creampie, cervix fucking.

Words: 10.6k

DEATH IS NO MORE !

18+, fem!reader, violence, blood ♡, daddy!kink, size difference ♡, age gap, degradation, fingering, orgasm denial, pussy spanks, dacryphilia, finger sucking, vaginal sex, choking ♡, creampie, squirting ♡, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby).

Words: 10k

Requests:

plug!sukuna after fingering you

plug!sukuna and yuuji double team

noncon w/ step bro!sukuna

plug!sukuna w/ a shy girl at a party

plug!sukuna offers you a treat

sukuna slips his hand/tongue under your skirt

play fighting w/ plug!sukuna

plug!sukuna wants to hear you

jealous uncle!sukuna

cucking!Ino

Thirsts:

noncon w/ new student reader

sukuna's happy trail

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢

Requests:

mutual masturbation w/ uncle nanamin

uncle nanamin & step daddy gojo

uncle nanamin gives you a vibrator

step daddy!nanami is jealous

date night w/ uncle nanamin

Thirsts:

uncle nanamin

jealous uncle!nanamin

step dad!gojo and uncle nanamin catch u camming!

𝐘𝐮𝐮𝐣𝐢 𝐈𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢

Requests:

yandere step bro!yuuji

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨

Requests:

step bro!gojo noncon

step dad!gojo ft. step itadori bros

getting off to you fucking his bestie!

jealous daddy!gojo read your texts!

ex!babysitter gojo & ex!babysitter suguru dp you!

giving step!bro gojo a pussy job

Thirsts:

step dad!gojo and uncle nanamin catch u camming!

step dad!gojo and uncle!suguru

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐨

Requests:

pervy roomamate!choso

𝐈𝐧𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐦𝐚

Don’t You Love It When I Come Around?

18+, fem!reader, dubcon (he's high), toxic relationship, exes to lovers?, rich boy!ino, dacryphilia, pussy eating ♡, light nipple play, vaginal sex, love making ♡, drool ♡, praise, slight orgasm denial, scratching, creampie ♡, manipulation, calls your pussy she/her, pet names (princess, baby/babe, gorgeous etc.)

words: 4.6k

Thirsts:

cum eating

cucking!Ino

[failbettergames]

any games you'd recommend? could be for any reason! (similarity to fallen london, you know the people who made it, you just think it's neat, etc.) besides your own, of course, I already own all of those :)

Yes, here's a list of all of the games we talked about in our newsletter last year:

Birth: an adventure puzzle game about constructing a creature from spare bones & organs.

Scarlet Hollow: an immersive, episodic horror-mystery.

Egypt: Old Kingdom: a strategy simulator of the Great Pyramids period.

The Past Within is a fun, eerie way to spend an hour with a friend.

The Pale Beyond: high stakes on the frozen wastes, Sunless Sea feelings. 

King of the Castle: medieval monarch party game.

Stray Gods: an urban fantasy, musical visual novel featuring the gods of Greek myth.

Vampire Survivors: so moreish.

Knotwords: extremely satisfying crossword-anagram-puzzle game.

The Banished Vault: so gorgeous it actually makes us a bit cross.

Astronaut the Best: an anarchic comedy about assembling a team of hapless astronauts. 

El Paso, Elsewhere: supernatural neo-noir shooter, in which you must destroy the villain you loved - even if it means dying yourself.

Thank Goodness You're Here: may be the only game that’s more British than the ones we make.

The Fabulous Fear Machine: pulpy horror narrative strategy.

WORLD OF HORROR: Junji Ito-adjacent roguelike.

Lies of P: tickles your Fromsoft fancy. 

The Lamplighters League: essentially 1930s supernatural XCOM 

Tails Noir (formerly known as Backbone): gorgeous, bleak, compelling and unsatisfying in equal measure. 

Mediterrea Inferno: a spicy story about finding yourself after isolation.

DotAGE: manage a village where the Village Elder has helpfully precise visions of the future.

Slay the Princess: the princess is very bad and you have to kill her. 

VR remake of The 7th Guest: very fun, silly and far less punishing than the original. 

Astrea: Six-sided Oracles: interesting dice-and-deckbuilding system. 

Return of the Obra Dinn: truly a modern classic.

[mountttmase]

Sweetheart

Note - so I wrote this in the way home from work after all the softness on the dash for masey 🥺 it’s super self indulgent and rushed and probably rubbish but I hope you guys like it 🩷

@yoursselo @tsimvkas @ithinkimokeei @saltyheartnightmare @harvestmount 🩷🩷🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 1.2k

Warnings - fluff

Leaving the office late used to be a rare occurrence, now it was the norm.

With the days getting longer and lighter you didn’t mind so much but when it was raining like it was right now you knew the trains would be packed and you wouldn’t be there early enough to get a seat. The weather had fooled you that morning and you were dressed in your favourite blazer but it offered you little protection from the rain so you were forced to stand the whole way home, crushed against someone else with your head under their arm while you dripped all over the floor

You made it home in one piece though. Letting yourself in and shunning yourself of your soggy clothes by the door as you didn’t want to walk through in the wet ones and luckily enough for you, Mason had thrown a hoodie of his over the bannister at the bottom of the stairs. His smell consuming you as you pulled it over your head to cover your body that was only clad in your underwear now and a sense of warmth hit you immediately.

You knew you wanted to see him right away, listening out for where he might be but the sound of the tv coming from the lounge made you head that way and your suspicions were confirmed when you found him sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket watching tv.

You knew you were lucky to have Mason, he was more than you could ever dream of, but getting to watch him like this when he was unaware made your heart thump and you felt overwhelmed with how much love you had for him.

You’d mentioned a few weeks ago about how you loved the hair style he had a year ago and now it was cut into the same one. A fluffy brunette mess sitting on top of his head that was still unstyled from his shower at training and all you could think about was running your fingers through it.

You couldn’t help but find everything he did adorable, the way his big brown eyes followed what was happening on the screen, the way he bit his lips absentmindedly and scrunched his nose as he focused on what was going on and you could have stood there for the rest of the night and just watching him in the dim lamplight.

He caught onto you being there soon enough though, his eyes snapping over to where you were standing as you moved a little further into the room and the way you both laughed as he held his hand out for you made your heart leap.

‘Hey sweetheart, when did you get in?’

‘Just now’ you smiled. Getting a better view of him in his favourite comfy clothes under his blanket and the sight made you smile even wider.

‘Oh yeah? I do hope you didn’t go to work dressed like that’ he laughed as he helped you into his lap. Wrapping the blanket around the both of you so your naked legs that were across his thighs were covered and you chuckled at his childishness.

‘Don’t worry, gorgeous. These legs are for your eyes only’ you teased, shivering as he placed a sweet kiss to your temple.

‘Good’ he winked. Squeezing your thigh as you cuddled into each other and you felt yourself relax instantly. ‘How was your day, love?’

The pair of you sat chatting for a little while. Filling him in on the carnage that your least favourite coworker had thrust upon your team that day and in turn he told you all about training. Laughing as he told you stories of how the team were still banging on at him about his goal and the joy on his face was infectious.

You’d missed this. Missed him being on a high from having a good game and scoring an amazing goal. Missed his animated features and as the pair of you both finally had something to say to each other. Knowing that Mason loved contributing something positive about his day which he hadn’t been able to do so much lately and you hadn’t realised you were staring at him until he stopped talking halfway through a sentence.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Because’ you smiled, your hands coming up to cup his jaw before you playfully pinched his cheeks. ‘You’re so adorable, Masey’

‘Stop it’ he giggled, trying to shake his head away from you so you couldn’t carry on but you weren’t done with him yet. Placing your hands gently on the side of his face so you could make him look at you and it’s like you were falling for him all over again.

He looked so happy. Big brown eyes that made you feel like sunshine, a soft smile on his pretty lips as he looked up at you adoringly but it was the adorable blush over his cheeks and bridge of his nose that made your heart skip a beat. No matter how much Mason told you he didn’t like you making a fuss of him in that way you knew he secretly loved it. He was the king of physical touch, but he also loved to hear how much you loved him and clearly the mix of both right now was too much for him.

‘What’s gotten into you tonight? You’ve gone all soft'

‘I just love you. And I love coming home to you’ you whispered. Your eyes flickering over his features and you melted at the way he rested his cheek into your palm. ‘Moments like this, it makes it all worth it, right?’

‘I love you too’ he whispered, shutting his eyes momentarily before he was looking back up at you. ‘You’re always worth it, my love’ and when his eyes dropped to your lips you knew what he wanted.

It was one of the softest kisses you’d ever shared. No intent of taking things any further, just content with wanting to show each other how much you loved the other as you loving brushed your lips against his and when you lightly scratched over his stubble he giggled adorably onto your lips. In turn tickling your naked waist under his hoodie until you squirmed in delight and your giggles mixed together.

‘Have you eaten, sweetheart? It's getting late and I don’t want you going to bed hungry’ he told you and you felt yourself melt again.

‘Will you make me your special pasta?’ You asked shyly, knowing how happy it made him whenever you asked and it was worth it for the bright smile that adorned his lips.

‘Till the day I die, I’ll always make you my special pasta’ he professed, the pair of you laughing as he scooped you up under your legs and carried you off into the kitchen.

[eddiediaaz]

@lgbtqcreators creator challenge: team color [insp] spotify wrapped 2023: #13 + buddie for @underwater-ninja-13

when i was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet in the low lamplight i was free heaven and hell were words to me WORK SONG — HOZIER

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ²

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥...

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: whispers all around the marine ship warn of a new cadet handpicked by the vice admiral himself, making for fine gossip. meanwhile, the strawhat crew wonders why their captain is so frustrated with a storybook.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!luffy x gn!reader, koby x platonic!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: use of Y/N, gender neutral reader, angst, platonic fluff, koby and reader team up of the century

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: this is me trying

series masterlist

Koby really wanted Helmeppo to shut up, but didn’t have the heart to say it. So he let his new friend rattle on and on whilst they were meant to be getting important work done mopping the deck.

Though Koby did admit, the hushed whispers around the ship of a new cadet were intriguing. And apparently, Helmeppo knew all about the new recruit.

“New?” Helmeppo laughed. “They’re far from new. Been at this for a matter of months and already they’re at the top.”

“How come?” Koby couldn’t help but ask, leaning slightly on his mop. “Experience?”

“Probably,” Helmeppo considered, turning secretive the next moment. “I hear they grew up with Garp, learned all they know from him and their father, who also happens to be a major.”

No wonder there was so much praise for this cadet. “And they’re really that good?”

Helmeppo nodded through a sigh. “So they say. Apparently, they’ve been assigned to this ship by Garp himself. No big surprise there. If this cadet is as fierce as they claim, we’ve got some competition.”

Koby nodded mindlessly, getting back to swabbing the deck, trying his best to focus, but Helmeppo just moved on to the next topic of his interest. 

“Hey, do you wonder—” Helmeppo stopped short, catching sight of an approaching figure through the dark shrouding the deck. 

Glancing up, Koby saw them too, a puzzled crease forming on his brow. The figure fumbled about the dark, mumbling to themself, two buckets in hand. 

Only after nearly tripping over air and stumbling to a stop did they draw out a sigh and assess their surroundings, finding Koby and Helmeppo watching with equally curious expressions.

“Oh, uhm,” they stammered, stepping into the dim lamplight Koby had set to the side. “Hello. I’m, uh, I was sent me to help.” They set down the buckets and stepped back. “Fresh warm water, and uhm, soap.”

Koby reacted quicker than Helmeppo, who watched this stranger carefully. He went to inspect the first bucket, smiling at the sudsy water. Given that Helmeppo had knocked their bucket over and Koby could only save a quarter of the water, this was a godsend. “Thank you. This helps a lot.”

The words went straight to the stranger’s head, a smile breaking out on their face as they turned to take up a spare mop. “No problem. Anything to stay useful. That’s what my dad always says, at least. A useless soldier's a dead soldier, or something like that.”

Whatever reservations Helmeppo had faded at the prospect of another gossip buddy, prompting an eye roll from Koby as he moved to start cleaning the farther end of the deck.

“Are you new?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“Oh, yeah,” the stranger replied. “I just transferred from that marine base we’re docked at.”

Helmeppo immediately stopped mopping and zeroed in on the stranger, like a disarming fledgling hawk to an unbothered mouse. “You would know about Y/N L/N, then. They’re being transferred to this ship too.”

There was a brief silence after the question, only long enough to have Koby cast a curious glance back at them. The stranger stopped mopping too, a thoughtful look crossing their face, before they nodded. “What about Y/N L/N?”

“So you’ve met them?” Helmeppo wondered, cutting the stranger off before they could answer. “I’m curious to see if they live up to their reputation.”

The stranger folded their hands behind their back, face quite expressionless. “Oh… What’s their reputation? From an outside perspective, I mean?”

“Only that they’re responsible for twenty arrests within the span of three months. That’s bullshit, in my opinion. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” The stranger’s undivided attention was now given to Helmeppo, and he was living for it. “Apparently, they were trained up by Vice Admiral Garp himself. I hear they’ve even had a drink with Dracule Mihawk. Can you believe that? Honestly, I’m just waiting to meet this cadet and see if they’re as cold hearted as everyone says.”

Now, Koby was smart. He had to be in order to survive. So of course he’d caught on far before Helmeppo, watching the stranger’s grip on their broom tighten and their gaze tighten into a glare. 

He rushed up behind the stranger and mimed for Helmeppo to shut up. All Koby got in return was a strange sort of look and complete ignorance. Koby ran a palm over his face.

The stranger was quiet for an everlasting moment, before they dipped their mop into a bucket and continued to do their job. “It was twenty-three.”

Helmeppo tilted his head as if to hear them better. “Sorry?”

Quite having enough of hearing what other people thought of you, you swiftly whirled back to face him with a steeled expression. “I said I took part in twenty-three arrests in three months. I was raised in the same town as Garp, so yes he trained me as a child. I’ve never met Dracule Mihawk and I’ve never had a drink with anyone.”

You jutted out your chin. “And yes, I’d say I am cold hearted when the situation requires it. Like when dealing with a ignorant, gossiping pain in my ass!”

Jaw slack, Helmeppo searched out for Koby’s assistance, only receiving a pointed glare from his friend. You mopped some more and moved to go back over the spot Helmeppo had already done. “Put some more elbow grease into it, yeah? These decks outta be spotless by morn.”

Miraculously, the deck was nothing but tranquil after that. The three of you worked in silence till just as you’d said, the deck was spotless to your satisfaction. Helmeppo retreated back to the barracks immediately, seeking to collect his pride off the floor, leaving you and Koby.

Koby was going to apologize on his friend’s behalf when he found you picking up your bucket and mop and trudging off to the afterdeck. Koby followed after you, telling you, “Oh, we don’t have to clean the afterdeck. That’s next shift’s job.”

You didn’t reply, setting the sloshing bucket down and starting to work. Koby paused. “We should sleep. We’re setting off tomorrow—”

“I’m aware,” you said carefully, without too much malice. “I know we don’t have to. I want to. I’m not tired.”

The bags under your eyes begged to differ. Koby watched you work before he hurried off, and half of you was sorry to be alone again. But then the boy came back with his own mop in hand, causing you to halt and observe as he started to join you.

“What’re you…”

“I’m Koby,” he said, holding out a hand with a scant smile. 

Glancing down, you accepted his hand and grinned. “Y/N. But you knew that.”

He grimaced. “Sorry about Helmeppo.”

Shrugging, you said, “Eh, I’m used to it.”

And you set back to mopping the night away, having the occasional laugh with Koby who did the same. Only when there was without a doubt nothing left to clean of the afterdeck, yet you continued to go back over it, did Koby stop and get in your way.

“I can see my reflection in the deck,” he tried to joke. “It’s okay to stop.”

You couldn’t tell him he was wrong. If you stopped, you had time to think. If you had time to think, you’d think of him. If you thought of Luffy, well, you’d be lost to your thoughts for the rest of the night. It was a whole cycle you couldn’t afford to go down. Not as a marine. 

Marine’s don’t have time for trivial affairs such as heartache.

But Koby was insistent, snatching your mop away from you and holding you back when you tried to get it back. He held a soft look as you glared daggers into him. “I think I understand.”

You scoffed, giving up and picking up the buckets to put away. You turned your back and headed to find the supply closet. “What exactly do you understand?”

“I... I was on a pirate ship before this,” he told you, causing you to slow enough for him to fall into step beside you. “I was forced to do things I’m not proud of. Sometimes I feel like I’ve got to make up for it.”

You cast him a glance. “I wasn’t a pirate.”

“But you’ve done something you’re not proud of,” he guessed.

Coming to a halt, you bit down on your cheek as Koby turned to face you, confusion laced in his expression. “You don’t know me, Koby. I’m proud of how I got here. That doesn’t make it easier to sleep at night.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I understand.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. But it was nice he tried, you supposed. “Okay.”

So he helped to put away the mops and dump out the buckets, following you back to the barracks. All the lights were off, leaving limited sight to find your way to your bunk, clambering through the dark as quietly as you could.

Koby was having a harder time, tripping over something and nearly waking the whole room. You shot him a glare and hurried to bed, hiding under the covers. The bed was hardly comfortable, and tossing and turning did nothing to provide any comfort. 

Rolling onto your back, you refrained from opening your eyes as long as you could before they pried themselves open, and you came face to face with Monkey D. Luffy. His wanted poster was pinned to the underside of the top bunk, something you had thought was a good idea at the time, but now it offered an unwanted spectator to your sleeplessness.

Still, you didn’t have the heart to take it down, pulling the thin blanket up over your head.

જ⁀➴

Nobody wanted to be the first to approach the captain, not when he was in a mood none of them had ever seen him in. If the crew was honest, it made them nervous.

“Somebody should make sure he’s okay,” said Usopp, looking around the lot of them as if to prompt one of them to step up. 

They all leaned upon the railing around the ship’s helm, eyes locked on Luffy. The boy sat cross legged on the deck, a book of all things in his lap. From the crease in his brow, he was growing increasingly frustrated.

“Not it,” Zoro quipped when he caught Nami giving him that look.

She rolled her eyes and pushed off the rail, glaring as she scathed, “Honestly.”

Taking tentative steps, Nami assessed the situation closer, not meaning to provoke whatever was going on in Luffy’s head. The book lay open to the very first page, his face a little too close to the words as he sighed every few seconds. He flipped to the next page, then the next, before gritting his teeth and going back to the first. 

Kneeling at his side, she bumped his shoulder as she settled down. “Luffy?”

“Hmm?” He barely looked up from the page, and Nami wondered if he even registered what she’d said.

“You okay?” When she didn’t get a response, she ducked forward to see what he was reading. “The Two Birds?”

Luffy snapped the book shut so fast Nami flinched, the sudden smile on his face a little bit of whiplash. “Sorry, what?”

“Luffy, what’s wrong?” she asked, concerned. “You’ve been glaring at that storybook all day.”

“Nothing,” he waved her off and tried to hide the book behind him. “Is it time to eat?”-

Nami wasn’t letting him get away from this, not when his smile was a little too bright to be real. Luffy had never been like this, and it was worrying her more than she liked to admit. “Luffy.”

Gaze flickering from each of her eyes, Luffy’s smile slowly but surely lost its enthusiasm, lips curling downward. He brought the book back to his lap, holding it ever so gently, skimming his fingertips over the cover. “It belongs to my lover.”

“Wait.” She blinked. “Lover?”

Nodding, Luffy almost smiled. “It’s their favorite book. I used to have more, but my ship sank. This is the only one I could save.”

The melancholy in how he said it gave Nami a sick kind of feeling, a million different ideas of this stranger’s fate coming to mind. She almost didn’t even ask. “What happened to them?”

“We got separated a few months ago,” he said, before giving the book a firm nod, “but I’ll find them again.”

“How do we do that?” Nami asked instantly, drawing another half smile out of Luffy as he raised his eyes to meet hers.

“Well,” Luffy laughed breathily, “it’s a bit complicated. They’re with the marines.”

They weren’t dead, which was good, Nami supposed. But this? This wasn’t what she’d expected. “Your lover is a marine?”

“Unfortunately. I couldn’t save them. But they’re strong.” His grin wavered. He thought of that sinking feeling when you remained on land, staring after him with this look he couldn't get out of his head. You'd looked like this was what you planned; him escaping, and you staying. It had been noble of you, he supposed, and he could never hate you for it.

Luffy swallowed thickly and his eyes went all misty. “They’re the strongest, kindest, truest person I know. I’ll find them, and I’ll return their book.”

Nami still couldn’t figure it out. “If they’re so good, why’re you burning a hole into their book?”

“Oh.” Luffy’s cheeks warmed at the question. “Uhm, I was trying to read it but… I got stuck. They usually read it to me.”

She should have left it at that. Really, Nami should have patted him on the back and offered to get a pre-dinner snack to cheer him up. But for some reason, Nami found herself looking at the storybook and hesitantly saying, “Can I?”

“Really?” The shine in Luffy’s eyes nearly made it worth it. 

Nami sighed and forced a smile. Only, she didn’t have to force it too much; Luffy’s quickly brightening expression warmed her from the inside out. “Sure. Hand it over.”

She’d barely laid a hand on the book when Luffy whipped his head around and shouted across the deck, “Guys! Nami’s reading a story!”

“Luffy…” she groaned, pursing her lips as Usopp jumped down the stairs, swiftly followed by Sanji and a more reluctant Zoro. 

Luffy raised a brow. “What?”

Letting out a huff, Nami simply flipped open the book. Usopp plopped down beside her, leaning in to see what book it was. 

“A story?” Zoro asked, ever unamused. Nami shut him up with one glare. 

“I personally am happy to hear Nami’s lovely voice,” Sanji piped in with a wink.

Nami gave the chef a deadpan, her head tilted. “Thanks.”

“C’mon,” Usopp urged her. “Let's see if it beats the tales of Great Captain Usopp.”

“All right, all right,” she laughed, turning to the very first page and starting to read off the story to them. 

Every once in a while Luffy would start frowning again, eyes unfocused, the words Nami read piercing his heart. It never lasted too long though, some commentary from Usopp dragging a snicker out of him. And when the story came to a close, Luffy offered his crew a grin. 

“Y/N would like you guys,” he said, raising some confusion among the men around him.

Nami tried to smile and, half to explain and half to reassure, said, “We’ll get your lover back, at some point.”

Maybe three seconds went by before all heads jolted in Luffy’s direction. 

“Lover?!”

>>

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being A Fire Supe

Requested: Heyy can I request the boys preferences to dating the reader that's a fire supe, maybe they radiate alot of heat so they like hold them for warmth? (I hope you see my vision lol) - anon

A/N: I see the vision my love!!!! Thank you for requesting!! I really love this idea!!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher hates sharing the bed with you, especially in the summer. You're a million degrees, and you just make the heat and humidity of the night worse. He does, however, love that when you're engulfed in flames, your clothes burn off. You always make sure you have another set of clothes, or at least Butchers jacket, to cover you up. He whistles and hollers and cheers you on and, after you're safe and covered, makes tons of jokes, many of them sexual. He needed to warm up to you at first, no pun intended, but after he got to know you, he was able to overlook his own bias against Supes and fall for you. His favorite thing is holding your hand. Your hands are so warm, especially when you're nervous or excited your skin can get so much hotter. Despite some of the discomfort he knows how powerful and necessary you are, to the team and to him.

Hughie blushes uncontrollably when he first sees your clothes burn off. You've gotten a lot more comfortable with it over the years, so you're not as fazed as you used to be. Hughie's never cared that you're a Supe. He knows there are good ones out there, and you're one of them. Still, he's getting used to you. Your relationship is pretty new, and he doesn't want to overstep, but he's got a lot of questions. Sometimes, it's uncontrollable. You'll boil just about anything you're holding. The shower steams as soon as it touches your skin. You rarely wear a jacket even in the dead of winter. For the most part, it's under control, but if you're really scared or worried, that's it. You're up in flames. He tries to help you when you're in that state, talking you down, offering support, and making sure you have nothing to be embarrassed about. You apologize profusely, but he shrugs it off. He loves you even if you burn through every piece of furniture. You'll figure it out together.

Annie met you when you were in The Seven. You and Lamplighter were a bit of a duo. Thank goodness Vought had the technology to make you a suit that wouldn't burn away every time you used your powers. That's about the only thing you liked about Vought. When Annie left, you were right beside her. In the beginning, she was afraid you'd be like everyone else, but you quickly proved that theory wrong. She fell for you instantly. She doesn't mind that you run hot, especially in the winter when the insulation in the apartment is shitty. She knows you have a lot of insecurity attached to your suit, something you held on to, all those years you spent with Homelander and the team, so she tries her best to talk it through, to get you to see just how powerful you are. It takes a long time before you start believing her. You work on your confidence together. You aren't anyone's sidekick. You're a superhero.

M.M. has a lot of issues with you at first. He doesn't like any Supe. You really have to prove your goodness, which is even harder because you like him so much and end up saying the wrong things. After he gets to know you a little better, he warms up to you. He still doesn't love the whole Supe thing, but you're a good asset for the team and you make him laugh. Once you start dating, you're a little more open about your abilities. You boil the pot when you're cooking with your hands and you light candles with the tips of your fingers, you let go of some of the control you had over your temperature and radiate as much heat as you like. When you're protecting him, you're while body is engulfed in flames. He's never seen you like that before, powerful and unapologetic. He's definitely left speechless, thought you can't tell if it's showing off your full abilities or the fact that you burned your clothes off. Either way, you don't mind.

Frenchie loves your abilities. He thinks you're powerful and dangerous and definitely a huge help in the fight against Homelander and Vought. It does help that, whenever you go all out, he gets to see you naked, though he's working on creating undergarments that don't burn away. He knows you have a lot of self-blame about being a Supe, wondering how your life could have looked had you not been able to burn through every chair you sat in or was able to feel fear and rage without bursting into flames. He thinks you're perfect just the way you are and reminds you of that constantly. He loves giving you nicknames. His favorite is Petite Flamme. He wants you to be proud of yourself, not insecure. You might think you're destructive, but he only sees power when he looks at you. Homelander should be afraid when he's up against you.

Kimiko never knew you without your powers, at least not for long. You were both held captive, both injected with Compound V. Whoever you were before then no longer exists. It was hard to control. They'd put you in separate cells. You had nothing that would catch fire. Just you and the concrete. Still you became friends and later a couple. She was never afraid of you. Where others saw destruction or uncontrollable power, she saw strength. She doesn't blink twice when you burn off your clothes or become a human heater, making the room twenty degrees hotter than it normally would be. She tells you she could never be afraid of you and she means it. When you unleash your full abilities she's awestruck, not scared. You're so much more powerful than you give yourself credit for.

[delusionalfanficwriter]

forgive me

My heart pounded in my chest as I turned the key in the lock, the anticipation of finally being home after what felt like an eternity abroad making my hands tremble. I had missed Leah desperately during my time away, longing for her comforting presence after I missed the possibly winning penalty for the USWNT. But now, as I stepped inside our apartment, that longing turned to dread.

The soft glow of lamplight illuminated the living room, casting eerie shadows against the walls. And there, on the couch, lay Leah, wrapped in the arms of another woman. My stomach dropped as the scene before me registered, the shock and disbelief hitting me like a tidal wave.

I wanted to scream, to demand answers, to tear apart the fabric of reality until this nightmare dissolved into nothingness. But all I could do was stand there, frozen in place, my heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

Leah's eyes met mine, a fleeting expression of surprise and guilt flickering across her features before she spoke. "Y/n, I can explain," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart.

She quickly got up from the couch in her panties and long t-shirt while the other woman I did not recognize gathered her belongings and ran out without hesitation.

I didn’t respond and as Leah took another step towards me, I took one back, shaking my head in disbelief. 

“Say something, y/n. Please. I know I fucked up, but I can explain.”

I block out her words and just stare at her, tears filling my eyes as my heart breaks every second I stand there. I take a shaky breath before saying, “I am going to pack a bag and go.” She goes to argue but I shake my head and interrupt, “Leah, you need to let me go.”

Leah's face crumpled in anguish as my words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them pressing down on us both like a suffocating blanket. She reached out to me, her hands trembling with desperation, but I recoiled from her touch, unable to bear the thought of her hands on me after what I had just witnessed.

"No," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "Please, y/n, don't do this. I love you, I swear, I never meant to hurt you."

Her words cut through me like a knife, reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal. I wanted to believe her, wanted to cling to the illusion of love and happiness we had shared, but the reality of her betrayal loomed large in the space between us, an insurmountable barrier that threatened to swallow us whole.

"I can't do this anymore, Leah," I said, my voice cracking with emotion. "You've hurt me in ways I never thought possible. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you."

Leah's eyes brimmed with tears as she reached out to me again, her desperation palpable in the air. She knew how hard I worked in my self-confidence but this just took the biggest blow to it. "Don’t for a second think you are not enough, y/n. I’m the problem. Please, y/n, give me another chance. I'll do anything to make this right, anything to prove to you that I love you."

But I shook my head, my resolve hardening with each passing moment. "It's too late for that, Leah. You've broken my trust. I can't just forgive and forget."

I ignore her as she begs for forgiveness while I head to our room to grab a few extra items as I already have a suitcase filled because of my trip with the national team. 

As I hastily packed my belongings, Leah's pleas echoed in my mind, each word a painful reminder of the love we once shared. 

Leah followed me into the bedroom, her footsteps hesitant as if she were treading on thin ice. "Please, y/n," she implored, her voice choked with tears. "Don't leave like this. We can work through this together, I promise."

Her words stirred a flicker of doubt within me, a small voice whispering that perhaps forgiveness was possible. But as I looked into her eyes, I saw not just remorse, but a deeper struggle, a fundamental flaw in our relationship that could not be easily mended.

"I need some space, Leah," I said, my voice firm despite the tremors of uncertainty coursing through me. "I need time to figure things out on my own."

Leah's shoulders slumped in defeat, her gaze falling to the floor as tears streamed down her cheeks. "I understand," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the din of my racing heart. With a heavy heart, I zipped up my bag. As I made my way to the door, Leah's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Y/n, wait," she said, her voice wavering with emotion. "Just know that I'll always love you, no matter what."

I let the tears I have been holding back drop silently as I look her in her eyes one more time. I love her so much but obviously I am not providing enough if she’s seeking more elsewhere. 

I get into my car and drive around aimlessly before arriving at Katie McCabe's place, seeking refuge in the familiarity of her warm embrace, she immediately sensed something was amiss. Concern etched across her features as she ushered me inside, her voice laced with worry.

"Y/n, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," Katie exclaimed, her eyes scanning my face for any sign of explanation.

I managed a weak smile, attempting to mask the turmoil raging within me. "It's nothing, Katie. Just... a rough day."

But Katie wasn't easily fooled. She took my hand gently, her touch grounding me amidst the chaos of my emotions. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I'm here for you, no matter what."

I hesitated, the weight of my unspoken truth threatening to suffocate me. But as I looked into Katie's compassionate gaze, I knew I couldn't bear to burden her with the tangled mess of my heartache.

"It's complicated," I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I don't want to talk about it."

Katie's brow furrowed in concern, her instincts urging her to push further. "Is it Leah?" she asked softly, her words hanging heavy in the air.

I flinched at the mention of her name, the pain of betrayal still fresh in my mind. But I couldn't bring myself to tarnish Leah's name, not when the love I once felt for her still lingered like a ghost in the recesses of my heart.

"I can't," I choked out, tears threatening to spill over. "I can't do that to her. I still love her, Katie. I can't bear the thought of anyone hating her."

Katie's expression softened with understanding as she wrapped me in a comforting embrace, her presence a soothing balm to my shattered soul. "You don't have to say anything you're not ready to, y/n," she murmured, her words a whispered promise of unwavering support.

…………. ……….. ………… ………….

As the days passed, life seemed to go on as usual. I returned to my routine, throwing myself into training with the Arsenal team, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Despite my efforts to appear unaffected, the tension between Leah and me was palpable, a silent rift that threatened to tear us apart.

At practice, the atmosphere was strained, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. My teammates exchanged knowing glances, their curiosity piqued by the unspoken tension between Leah and me.

Leah, ever persistent, continued to plead for forgiveness, her desperation evident in every fleeting glance and tentative touch. But I remained steadfast in my resolve, refusing to entertain the possibility of reconciliation until I had fully come to terms with the betrayal that had shattered my trust.

As we gathered on the field, preparing for another grueling session, Leah approached me tentatively, her eyes brimming with remorse. "Y/n, please," she whispered, her voice pleading. "We need to talk. I can't bear this distance between us any longer."

I shook my head, my resolve hardening with each passing moment. "Not now, Leah," I replied, my voice firm despite the turmoil raging within me. "I need time to process everything that's happened."

“Please, y/n. I can see you training extra hard just to avoid thinking about this. Please, I don't want to see you hurting.”

“You did that, amore. You hurt me. I knew I wasn’t enough and you reassured me countless times I was. I was stupid to believe you… that I was enough for you.” I whisper before walking away. 

“Y/n, wait! At least tell me why no one else knows? I was expected to get some lash back from the gals.” She grabs my arm before I face her once more.

“Despite all you have done, and might think, I still love you.”

As Leah and I stood on the training field in our emotional exchange, a voice interrupted from the sidelines, cutting through the weighty atmosphere with unexpected levity.

"Well, whatever Leah did, it must be forgivable if she's still alive," came a joking remark from one of our teammates, interrupting the solemn moment with a touch of humor.

I turned to see Alessia smirking playfully as she approached us, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Despite the seriousness of the situation, her lighthearted comment momentarily lifted the heaviness that had settled over us.

"Seriously, y/n," Alessia continued, nudging me gently with her elbow. "You must be a saint to consider forgiving whatever she did. I mean, I can barely forgive her for stealing my snacks, let alone whatever this is."

A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips, the tension easing slightly under the unexpected reprieve of humor. "Trust me, Alessia," I replied, my tone light despite the lingering ache in my heart. "It's going to take a lot more than snacks to make things right."

[stevieschrodinger]

Dustin’s crying so loud, Steve can barely hear when Eddie speaks, “trust me, Stevie?”

Eddie’s never called him that before. Eddie coughs again, bloody, and it spatters his lips and stains in between his teeth, mutely, Steve nods.

Eddie grabs Steve by the collar of his own denim jacket, pulling himself up and Steve down. He’s surprisingly strong considering Steve is absolutely certain that Eddie’s about to die. That’s what makes Steve close his eyes and open his mouth; lets Eddie have whatever he wants. Invites it when Eddie invades with a wet and bloody tongue. It’s a battle of a kiss, and Steve soaks it up.

Eddie disappears from under Steve’s hands, and he almost falls forward, Eddie disintegrating into a cloud of fiery ash. It settles, and in the middle, there’s an egg.

It’s shocking enough that Dustin stops crying, “what the fuuuuuck?” Dustin reaches for the egg, pulls his hand back, hissing, sucking his fingers.

Steve reaches for it next, “it’s too hot,” Dustin tries to warn him...but it isn’t. It’s pleasantly warm in Steve’s hand and he lifts it comfortably.

They take it with them.

They have absolutely no fucking explanation for what the hell just happened. Steve, instinctively, refuses to put the egg down anywhere. He sits, staring at it, cataloguing the slightly speckled pattern, watching how it catches the light as he turns it in his palms, pale and diffuse in the lamplight of the lounge.

He doesn’t really like other people touching it, but allows Robin to brush it with her fingertips; she draws them back sharply, hissing, blisters already forming. He carries it with him, even going so far as to showering one handed so he can hold it. He curls around it that night in bed and isn’t even worried that he might accidentally break it; he knows he won’t.

They have a day to recuperate, the party all together again, and safe; Vecna is defeated.

Eddie has one living relative that everyone knows about; Wayne Munson. It’s the only possible place they may get some answers; the trailer is just...gone. They contact Hopper, who contacts Owens, and an hour later he calls Steve back. The trailer was impounded by Owens team to study the damage and now closed gate inside; Wayne Munson is in a Motel.

Everyone piles into the beemer.

Wayne looks sallow when he opens the door, distraught, but in a kind of worn in way. Like he’s already accepted it. No one speaks, they just watch as Steve produces the egg, cupped carefully in his hands. Wayne’s face crumples, his eyes well up, and he pulls Steve into a hug, “thank you. I thought I’d lost him, thank you.”

“Okay,” Steve replies, “but we have no idea what’s going on.”

Wayne shoos them into the room. There’s two doubles, Dustin, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan climb onto the still made bed; not the one that’s clearly been slept in. Wayne sits at the foot of his bed, Steve remains standing, carefully cradling the egg.

“He never told you what he is?”

Everyone on the bed is staring at Wayne wide eyed, Steve almost laughs at them, but he’s too busy shaking his head at Wayne.

Wayne nods, scratching his head, “so how long have you and my Eddie been seeing each other?”

Everyone on the bed turns to look at Steve instead, eyes, if anything, even wider, “we...aren’t. That’s not. We’re not…” The egg pulses hotly in Steve’s hands; for a brief moment, it’s unpleasant.

“You must be something, or you wouldn’t be able to touch his egg. Bound in blood?”

“There was blood, he was coughing up blood...when he was dying and he…”

“They kissed,” Dustin interjects, super unhelpful, “right before Eddie…” Dustin makes the form of an explosion with his hands, “you know, went poof.”

Wayne nods, “it’s enough, this time, for Eddie to come back. But if you don’t complete the bond, he won’t last long. Eddie must love you a hell of a lot.”

“Love me?” Steve asks weakly.

“Yeah,” Wayne says, “phoenix’s mate for life, and they won’t come back for anything less.”

There’s a long, drawn out silence, before Steve, finally offers a weak, “we hardly even know each other.”

“Eddie knows. A phoenix always knows. And you have to complete the bond, or he won’t be able to stay.”

“What?” Dustin asks, panicked, “what do you mean, stay?”

Wayne shrugs, “a phoenix, rejected by their mate, will burn up from the inside. He’ll wither and die unless Steve...reciprocates.”

Steve, weak limbed, just gives up and sits on the floor.

“What about you, Mr. Munson, are you a phoenix?” Dustin’s going to start in with fifty million questions. Steve’s kind of glad, gives him a moment to sit here and...stroke Eddie’s egg.

“Nah, I’m his dad’s brother. Him mom was the phoenix; that’s how she died. My brother wasn’t the best of guys and when he fucked it up...she died. Didn’t take long. Eddie’s a half breed, they can see it on sight, so the other phoenix, they rejected him. He’s been with me ever since. Not human enough to fit in here, not...good enough for them.”

Dustin looks affronted on Eddie’s behalf, “that’s not fair, Eddie’s a great guy. They’re...prejudiced, Eddie’s better off without them, anyway.”

Wayne hums agreeable, “they put a lot of stock in their feathers, what they look like. His mom knew at birth he’d never be accepted, but we had to try after she died. I’d hoped that they would take pity on him but...no. They said his colors were an ill omen.”

“What’s wrong with his colors? What colors? Eddie doesn’t even have feathers.”

“He will when he hatches, and they’ll be black as night.”

Steve figures it’s been around seventy nine ish hours when the first crack appears in the shell. He has no idea if there’s a significance to the amount of time, but he doesn’t interfere. He just turns the volume of the television down low and sits and watches, fascinated, as the crack widens and little, damp, black chick gets itself free. The inside of the shell shines like dark mother of pearl; like an oil slick.

Steve already knows he will hide the egg away and treasure it forever. He had sworn again and again to Dustin that the second Eddie showed signs of hatching, Steve would call him. He couldn’t though. He just couldn’t. Something in him screamed loudly that it would be wrong. It would be so wrong for someone else to be here.

He decides to let them have one night together, just him and the tiny, feather light ball of blackness sitting on his thighs. He’ll call Dustin in the morning.

Steve tries to put Eddie down to go to the bathroom before bed; Eddie chirps miserably the whole time. He walks around on top of the comforter once Steve is in bed, and Steve watches in the lamplight as the tiny chick negotiates the mountains and valleys of Steve's bedding. He falls asleep finally, bored of exploring, nestled against the side of Steve’s neck.

“You said you’d call!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, it’s just it was late and-”

“He’s so big!”

“Yeah,” Steve replies. Nothing else to say really. Eddie seemed to have quadrupled in size overnight. He’s now the size of a chicken, covered in long, sleek black feathers. He has a long neck for his size, and his tail feathers sweep along the ground as he follows at Steve’s heels.

“Are you going to go and see Wayne?”

Eddie tilts his head at the sound of his uncles name, watching from his perch on the kitchen counter. Steve had tried him with a bowl of dry cereal, but Eddie had merely pecked at it a couple of times before ignoring it. Steve had added milk and eaten it himself.

“Nah,” Steve replies absently. The thought of leaving the house is...well. Steve doesn’t like it.

The next day, Eddie is the size of a very large turkey and his head, thanks to the long neck, can almost stretch to the height of Steve’s shoulder. When Steve sits on the couch, Eddie flaps up to sit on Steve’s lap, long neck winding around Steve’s, his head looping around to rest on Steve’s chest. His eyes are warm brown, just like Eddie’s human eyes, and Steve isn’t even a little worried about the huge talons or wickedly sharp beak.

On the seventh day, Steve wakes to find a man in his bed with him. He sighs with relief, pulling Eddie closer and whispering, “hello sweetheart,” into his fluffy hair.

Steve assumed they had time, he had hoped they could get to know each other; that Steve could do this properly, but by lunch Eddie is looking tired and has gray hairs at his temples so Steve simply says, “I love you, too,” over coffee and toast and hopes that it’s enough.

[saintship]

Could I request a fic for konig (and/or anyone in the 141) (whoever you think fits the best).

One where the reader has an eating disorder that she's been hiding for a while and the team is starting to notice.

Eventually they confront her and she tries to defend herself but only makes it worse. Saying stuff like she knows her limits now and explaining how it doesn't really hurt that bad to purge since she figured it out.

Like she's trying to comfort them but is only making it so much worse. I need my angst + comfort

I decided on Ghost because there’s a lot of König’s big ass on my blog

WARNING: potentially triggering content for people suffering from restrictive/bulimic eating disorders

This hits close to home, and v accurate to how a confrontation like this can go, I hope you’re alright ml

You’re not fine - Simon Riley x Reader, 141 & Reader

You had a love-hate relationship with little celebrations like these; you liked talking with everyone, and you also liked that it was held at the base, so you didn’t have to worry yourself watching your back. But with celebrations, there will be alcohol, and then food, and then inebriated recruits spewing whatever comes to their mind. One in particular you were sat near was especially vocal, swinging his glass in arcs as he grumbled on and on. Many of his words were nonsense, their only repercussion being the drunk giggles of his friends.

You sat up a bit straighter when he leaned closer.

“Oi, I hate these, you want it?” He murmured, gesturing to the cherry adorning his drink. You looked away a bit, shaking your head.

“Why? You was eatin’ them before..”

“I had enough.”

He only grinned. “What, you think a cherry will make you fat or something?”

Your silence only amused him more.

“Aw, you starve yourself, lovie?” He laughed loud and bright, like what he’d suggested was the most amusing thing he’d ever thought of. His friends didn’t miss it either, now cooing comments and non-questions in your direction that made your head spin.

It wasn’t until you pushed yourself to your feet and made a break for the door that you clocked the eyes behind Simon’s mask, following you carefully. The embarrassment flashed through your mind, but you continued, leaning against the outside wall where people came to smoke or grope each other in the lamplight. You felt the cherry on your tongue, your stomach beginning to flip before you gathered yourself. You were in control. A sharp pain sliced through your gut. You’d been able to walk the line of hiding your self torture until now; if someone walked up to you, there was no way you’d play it off. You were in control. Everything is under..control.

You thought about going back inside, just eating the stupid cherry and getting rid of it in the common room bathroom. But you were tired, and the only 141 member inside seemed to have a habit of burning holes in your back, so what was the point? Going back to your barracks seemed best. Walking by the front entrance again, Ghost pushed open the door simultaneously.

“Oi.”

You stopped and turned; Ghost rarely incited conversation. He approached you, scanning around the grounds as he walked. He seemed to be searching for the right words, a quiet grunt escaping him before he spoke.

“What’s wrong with you? You’re acting..” he gestured with his hand vaguely, his eyes glowering with suspicion.

“Acting what?”

He dropped his hand. “Off.”

When you didn’t reply, he sighed. “Look, I’m not good with this shit, yeah? If something’s wrong, I’ll only catch it once. So what is it?”

Your heart ached. You wished so badly there was a way to brush him off and reinforce his compassion at the same time. But there wasn’t.

“I’m okay, really.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sergeant.”

His reply made you blink, but your head still shook for the negative. “I’m fine.”

“You-"

“Goodnight, Ghost.”

Your tone only registered in your mind when you’d walked ten paces away from him. Simon Riley had just mustered up the courage to show a bit of concern, and you’d fucked it up. It would take a miracle for him to show vulnerability like that again. Your exhaustion urged hot tears to run down your cheeks, your skin heating up with shame and embarrassment. You didn’t get a wink of sleep.

The next morning it was pouring rain, and your walk to the med bay left you completely soaked by the time you opened the door to your office. The cold and discomfort of wet clothes were dull in your mind; all that played in your head was the encounter from the night before. The unit was empty other than resident patients, the rest of the staff likely at the mess hall. By noon, you were dry and warm, but every knock at your door made you jump. Just as you tried to convince yourself that you were being paranoid, your pager buzzed. Price’s voice rang clear.

“My office. Now, unless someone’s dying.”

Another day, you would have huffed a small laugh at his bluntness, but now, your anticipation weighed heavy on your chest.

Jogging through the rain again to the main building, scenario after scenario ran through your mind. Ghost outranked you, and you’d brushed him off without a glance behind you. You’d never had a charge of insubordination, ever. You admired and cared for your superiors in a way you hadn’t expected, and with that, there was never a time mouthing off even crossed your mind.

You lowered the hood of your rain jacket carefully as you eased Price’s door open, seeing it was already ajar.

Your heart sank through the floor when you saw Price’s expression, and then further some when you looked around the room. Soap, Gaz.. and Ghost.

“Is this an intervention?”

Your joke was met with a downcast silence, as Price rose from his desk chair. “Sit.”

He walked past you to shut the door gently, leaning on its surface. You obeyed his request, settling into a chair near his desk.

“Sergeant..you know that you’re cared for here, right?”

You blinked, glancing at Gaz and Soap. The two of them were so rarely serious that their concerned expressions were distracting.

“Uh..yes. Yes, sir.” You murmured.

“Since we care for you, we notice when you’re not all there. Isn’t that right?” The squad nodded, and you wished for a sinkhole to pull you into the center of the earth.

“Ghost. Why don’t you explain why we’re here?”

You couldn’t look at him, but you felt his eyes.

“You ran off last night. And I know it wasn’t cause of that daft recruit.”

The wood panels of Price’s floor were faded with a worn path of heavy boots. Gaz stepped a bit closer.

“We just don’t want you to be doing anything that’ll hurt you, love.”

You didn’t look up.

“Why would you think that?”

The sound of shifting weight was all that answered at first. Soap’s gentle voice filled the small space.

“You’re not eating, lass.”

Your eyes finally found their way upward out of surprise. “That’s what this is about?” You look around; no one’s expression had shifted. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve skipped every weigh in the last three months.” Price folded his arms.

“I’m a medic, I was busy! I think I would know if I had a problem.”

“So why do you drink your calories? Why do you work through mealtimes?” Ghost’s tone became a bit firmer.

“We’re just a tad worried-"

“There is nothing to worry about!” You interrupted Soap, making Gaz back up a pace. “I know my limits, I know how to do it right. I don’t need a lot.”

Price’s head tilted. “Sergeant..”

“I know how to do it right.” You repeated, a trembling hang raking through your hair.

“Do what right?” Gaz’s question hung heavy in the air.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, I-I figured out how to..you know, purge. Correctly.”

“What?” Price pushed off the door, standing closer.

“It’s fine!” Tears pricked at your eyes.

“No, it’s not.” Gaz’s voice was low with emotion, his eyes following you as you got to your feet.

“I’m fucking fine!”

“Sergeant, lower your voice.” Price’s order silenced you, a tear escaping down your face.

“It’s—I have it under control..” your voice wavered.

Soap sighed. “That’s not how it works-"

You wiped your tears angrily, irritating the skin that was already warm with embarrassment.

“What do I have to do to convince you that I am fi-"

Ghost’s arms were around you. The rest of the room was silent. Your eyes were closed. You cried into his vest. He smelled like smoke.

“You’re not fine.” His voice was softer than you’d ever heard it.

“I’m sorry..I’m sorry..”

“Oh, love..” Gaz hand was warm on you shoulder.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Soap assured. Ghost’s gloved palm stroked your back.

A different hand laid on your other shoulder, and you turned you head to see Price lean to your level.

“You’re not alone, soldier.”

That night, the entire team accompanied you to dinner. They made sure to tell you that even if you couldn’t stomach anything, just being there made them proud. Proud that you could face this disease that would follow your every step, and that you trusted them to walk alongside you. Ghost excused himself for a smoke, and you followed him out where he stood in the night air. The cicadas were chittering incessantly, but the breeze was nice. You stood by his side for a few moments before speaking.

“You called the meeting.”

He held his balaclava away from his face slightly with a thumb, exhaling a breath of smoke.

“I did.”

Your heart hammered in your chest.

“Thought you’d be angry with me for brushing you off like that.”

His head shook slowly. “No.” He breathed a sigh of the fresh air. “You’re not the snippy type. Something was off. So I went to the people who deal with that sort of thing better than I can.”

You eyed him. “Why do you always end with that?”

He glanced back, but continued to toe at the gravel.

“What do you mean?”

“You say you’re not good with this sort of thing. But you are.”

His brow furrowed. “M’not.”

“When I walked away from you, you could have just decided I was a dick and moved on, but you didn’t.”

His head shook again. “I had to get backup.”

“You knew who to put in that room.”

“Because I couldn’t do it alone.”

“You hugged me.”

Your shoes turn toward him, the glow of the entrance light glancing off the woven fabric covering his face.

“When I was freaking out, you steadied me. It really helped..” your admission suddenly embarrassed you, and you looked at your feet the moment he brought his eyes forward.

“Doesn’t mean I’m good at this.”

“You’re good to me.”

He blinked. “Am I?”

“You’re good to the team. Good to your trainees.” Looking up into his eyes, the apprehension there was gut wrenching. “I’ll tell you every day if that’s what it takes for you to believe it..”

“Sergeant..”

“It’s true. You make me want to be better.”

Ghost shifted on his feet. “I just want you alive.”

You cracked your first smile in weeks. “You make me want to be that, too.”

He gazed at you a bit longer before outstretching an arm, pulling you into his chest while taking another drag with his other hand. Your smile stayed as you leaned into his coat, the warmth radiating from him making your heart swell. The gratitude you felt that Simon Riley was letting you be so close to him was exhilarating. He rubbed your back as he’d done in the office, but out here, where it was just you, Simon, and the cicadas, it was just better.

[nataliasquote]

Back in time [pt. 2] | n romanoff | winterwidow

Back in time au: part 1

Summary: Bucky and Natasha’s daughter seeks comfort in her Aunt Wanda as her parents go missing on a mission

Warnings: major character death, panic attack, grief

Pairings: winterwidow

wc: 3.5k

- ⧗ -

The sound of Wanda's phone ringing shocked her awake. The room was pitch black and she fumbled around for the light switch. Tapping the phone to switch it on, the bright screen flashed 4:36am and she groaned. But Fury's name got rid of any thoughts she had of falling back asleep and she answered the call, sitting up in bed and pushing the hair from her face.

Y/n had slept in her own bed for a little over a week now, so luckily the phone call didn't wake her. Wanda was barely awake as Fury started talking, but at the mention of Bucky and Natasha, she was suddenly alert. As the call ended, she quickly threw on jeans and a shirt and raced downstairs to the meeting room.

As early as it was, the office was teaming with activity. Agents were typing away on computers and Fury was on the phone with someone who he clearly wasn't happy with. Wanda smiled at a couple of people she knew, but she felt so out of place. But Maria Hill came to her rescue and pulled her aside.

"Thanks for coming down Wanda. We've had a note that Bucky and Nat might be coming back today. I'm guessing Fury filled you in on everything?"

"Yeah. He said the quinjet had finally pinged a location?" When she first heard Fury tell her the news, she nearly screamed. But she knew not to get too excited. Nat and Bucky had been missing for weeks and this could just be another false alarm.

"We think. There have been a couple of wrong alerts before, but a team of agents left this morning to investigate the location. They could be back any minute." Maria was tapping away on a tablet as she spoke, her mind in 2 places at once. "You might want to get Y/n down here. She's gonna want to see her mom and dad if they get back."

"If?" Wanda was shocked at Maria's uncertainty.

"I'm sorry we can't give you a 'when' yet." Wanda nodded and slowly backed out of the room. The news of her best friends coming home had excited her, but everyone seemed so unsure, and it left an aching feeling in Wanda's gut.

She decided to distract herself by waking Y/n. The 16 year old was still fast asleep, as she should be. Quietly flicking on the bedside lamp, Wanda brushed the hair from Y/n's face.

"Good morning angel." She whispered as not to startle the poor girl. Y/n's eyes fluttered open and she squinted in the lamplight.

"Morning" she mumbled, stretching her arms and legs out to try and wake up. "What time is it?"

"It's early, baby, and I'm sorry. But we've got some stuff to do." Wanda tried to keep her answers as vague as possible. She really didn't want to get the girl's hopes up incase nothing came of today's investigation. But Wanda couldn't help but be hopeful.

The teenager didn't have any energy to argue. She would usually have gone back to sleep, but something was different about the way Wanda was behaving. Call it a gut instinct, or maybe because she was raised by Natasha, but Y/n could tell Wanda was excited. Why she was excited at 5am was a whole other story, but it was enough for the teenager to go on.

Wanda left the room to let Y/n get changed, which she did fairly quickly. Her usual signature braids had been swapped for a ponytail ever since Nat had left. But the hoodie she was wearing was Bucky's of course. It made her feel just that little bit closer to her parents, wherever they may be.

"What are you hiding?" Y/n asked as she tucked into her cereal. Wanda looked confused at how she'd managed to pick that up so quickly.

"I'm not sure what you mean, darling."

Y/n rolled her eyes and dropped her spoon on the table. "I'm not dumb. You seem excited. And we were up at 5am. None of that is normal behaviour for you. So what's changed?"

Wanda hesitated for a moment. She didn't want to tell Y/n, but the girl deserved to know. These were her parents in question and they couldn't withhold information about them. "There might be an update on your mom and dad." Y/n's eyes went wide and her spoon froze halfway to her mouth.

"What?" She breathed, her eyes filling with tears. "Really?"

"It's really early still, and it's just a location, but Fury thinks it's from their jet." Wanda told her everything she knew. The 16 year old was desperately fighting back tears as Wanda spoke, but the prospect of maybe seeing her mom again became too much. She completely broke down and dropped her head to the table, letting out heart wrenching sobs.

Wanda rushed to her side and pulled her into a hug. "I just want to see them again." Y/n cried against Wanda's shirt. "I miss them so much."

"I know baby girl, I know."

Y/n kept her head against Wanda's chest for a few minutes as she cried. "Can we go see Aunt Maria?"

"If that's what you want, then yeah. Let's go."

The teenager stood up on shaky legs and pushed away her half eaten breakfast, her appetite no longer there. She held on to Wanda's hand like it was a lifeline, gripping her fingers to make sure she was still there. It was a silly thought, but Y/n couldn't lose her too.

They were finally back in the office, but this time Steve was there. He was hovering near the doorway, looking as out of place as Wanda did when she first arrived. In any other circumstances, Y/n would have given him a hug, but she barely even noticed him as she walked in. Wanda flashed him a warm smile which her returned, but a tug on her sleeve notified her of the impatient teenager still hanging on to her arm.

Y/n was frantically searching for the familiar brunette that she loved. There were agents racing around everywhere and she recoiled back into Wanda, feeling rather exposed and overwhelmed. Wanda felt her goddaughter flinch into her side and she wrapped an arm around her protectively, guiding her through the sea of people to where Maria was stood. Y/n hands were slightly clammy, the intensity of the day already getting to her.

"Aunt Maria?" Y/n blurted out, her voice weaker than she intended. But the SHIELD agent still heard her and whipped around, shocked to see her niece.

"Hey Y/n, what-" She was cut off by the girl throwing her hands around her waist and tackling her into a hug, almost sending them both flying backwards.

"Please tell me you've heard something about them. Please Aunt Maria!" Y/n voice sounded so desperate that the surrounding agents shared a sorrowful look between them. Bucky and Nat's disappearance had been hard on everyone, but that kid had suffered the most. "I just want to see mama and papa. That's all I want."

Maria clung on to her niece harder. The truth was, they had more information, but Maria couldn't say what state the couple would be in until they came through the doors, and the last thing she wanted to do was worry the trembling girl anymore than she already was.

"I'm sorry Y/n, there's been nothing so far. But I promise you that-"

A yell from the hallway caught everyone's attention and cut Maria off mid-sentence. A group of agents sprinted through the hall, but what, or who, came after them was the main focus. After the chaos in the hallway cleared, Y/n could have a proper look of what was going on.

She let out a whimper and broke into a sprint, Wanda unable to hold her back. The doors at the end of the corridor were open and 2 people had just crossed the threshold. They were still quite far away, but Y/n knew those figures anywhere. If the red hair wasn't a dead giveaway, then the obvious height difference was. She kept running, getting closer and closer.

But as her body moved on autopilot, her mind span slightly. Her mama was smaller than Bucky, sure, but not that  much smaller. She kept running, but slowed down as she saw the scene in front of her. Her papa was walking with his arms holding Nat upright. She was hunched over, her hands pressing into her stomach as she stumbled, just trying to put one foot in front of the other. Bucky was muttering stuff in her ear, so the couple hadn't noticed their daughter stood 20ft in front of them.

Y/n felt sick to her stomach. She'd waited months, but it felt like years, for her parents to walk through that door. She'd dreamt about it so many times, the day they came home, the way they'd all be reunited as a family. Nat and Bucky would walk in without a scratch, their arms open wide to pull Y/n into a tight hug.

But dreams are not reality. They weren't waiting for a hug. They were being swarmed by doctors and Y/n found herself being pressed against a wall. Her chest felt tight as she watched her mama and papa walked past her without a second glance. She tried to call out, but her voice had been reduced to a whisper, proving futile against the noisy corridor.

She slumped to the floor, her legs giving out under her weight. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. The sweatshirt she was wearing felt suffocating and she pulled at the collar, trying to relieve pressure on her chest. Her mind was screaming at her to run after them, but she didn't move. She couldn't move.

People pushed and shoved above her but she payed no attention. Until a familiar hand grabbed hold of hers and pulled her into their arms. Steve picked up the frozen teenager and carried her back into the office where Wanda was still standing, relief flooding her features as she laid eyes on Y/n once more. The teenager hadn't noticed that she had moved locations, her mind was still replaying that moment in her head. Wanda sat with her in a quiet corner as she tried to bring her back, but Y/n sat there, shaking and sweating, her breathing erratic.

Wanda was good at calming panic attacks, but Y/n barely even acknowledged her presence. The witch was quickly running out of options and Y/n was getting paler and paler.

"Papa?" Y/n voice shook and she reached out, desperately trying to grab onto something. "Papa? Mama?" Wanda offered her hands but Y/N didn't accept them. The teen was still zoned out and Wanda tried her best to keep calm. Seeing Maria walk past the window, Wanda dashed out and grabbed the SHIELD agent, pulling her into the room.

"Please can Y/n see Bucky and Nat? She's in a state and she won't snap out of it. She needs her parents Maria. This girl needs her mom and dad." At the mention of Nat, Maria's smile faltered before she hauled it back in place.

Y/n was still closed in on herself, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles were going white. She was mumbling about Nat under her breath and Maria couldn't help but worry for the girl. "Bring her with me."

She walked out of the room, Wanda hot on her heels. Steve had picked Y/n back up as they made their way to the restricted area of the medical centre. He could feel her body vibrating in his arms and as much as he was desperate to see his best friends, he knew his job was to make sure Y/n saw them too.

There were agents guarding one of the doors, but they saw Maria and let the entourage through, quickly resuming their positions once Steve had walked through. There was a section curtained off, but one person they wanted to see was sitting on a chair, his head in his hands, still in the clothes he wore on his mission.

"Buck." Steve couldn't believe what he was seeing. The best friends made eye contact and smiled before Bucky noticed his daughter in Steve's arms. He leaped up, ignoring his searing muscles, and quickly took her from him.

Y/n noticed that she'd moved and the person felt very familiar. "Papa?" Her voice was hoarse but she was slowly coming back to reality.

"It's me doll. It's Papa." He had tears streaming down his cheeks, and Bucky never cried. Y/n reached out and placed her palm against his cheek, wanting to feel that it was him. That he was real.

"You're real!" Y/n had finally grounded herself enough to fling her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into his neck. "You came back."

Bucky hugged her back with reciprocated emotion. "I'm sorry for leaving you doll. I really am. But I'm back." He pushed his face into her hair, just glad to be holding his daughter for real. Every night on the mission he and Nat would talk about stories and memories they had with Y/n, laughing about her as a toddler. They each had a photo they kept in their pockets, and Nat had Y/n's baby thumbprint on the handle of her gun alongside her own thumbprint, so she was always with her baby girl.

"Where's Mama?" Y/n looked around but saw no sign of her. She looked back at her papa, who eyes flashed with sadness. "Where's Mama!"

"She's just in there doll." He gestured to the blue curtains, and Y/n instantly climbed off his lap. "Wait a sec, let me come with you." She waited for him to stand up before they made their way over. "Be gentle with her, Y/n. She's a bit fragile at the moment."

Y/n nodded in understanding as Bucky slowly pulled the curtain open, allowing them to slip through. Y/n stopped still for a moment as she took in what she was seeing.

Her Mama. But she wasn't up and moving like Bucky was. She was on a hospital bed, with wires attached to her arms and chest. But her eyes were open. Her eyes were open and she had a smile on her face as she saw Y/n.

"Hey big girl" Nat breathed, lifting her arms to invite Y/n for a hug. As much as she wanted to run into her arms, Y/N looked back at Bucky for confirmation before she made her way over, collapsing gently into her mother.

"Mama" Y/n took a deep inhale of her mother's scent, missing the instant calming nature it had on her. She didn't know why Nat was in a hospital bed so she made sure to be careful, not putting her weight onto her mother's body at all. She felt immediately felt at home, the feeling of her mama's fingers running through her sending a calm feeling through her body.

"Oh my baby girl. I missed you so much." That was an understatement. Natasha felt as though she was missing a limb without Y/n.

"I missed you too, Mama. God I missed you so much, you don't understand. But you're ok, right? Wh-what happened?"

Y/n sat up and shifted so she was perched on the side of Nat's hospital bed, her fingers intertwines with her mother's. Bucky had taken a seat on one of the chairs at Nat's bedside, placing his hand on top of his girls'. "It's nothing, baby. You don't need to worry. Mama was just a bit careless that's all."

Y/n couldn't believe her. "You're never careless. Every move you make is so calculated and controlled. Natasha Romanoff never makes mistakes. Ever."

Nat and Bucky were both shocked by Y/n's outburst. Their little girl had always been spirited, but not to the extent where she would question her parents' words. Had so much really changed in the months they had been gone?

"You promised you would look after each other! That was the one thing keeping me from going crazy! Knowing that you were watching each other's sixes." Y/n had stood up from the bed in despair. "What if you had been killed? What do you do then? Come home and tell me that my mom is dead because you were to stubborn to protect each other! I could have lost you, mom!" Tears were streaming down her face as she spoke. "I can't lose you." Y/n exhaled a shaky breath, collecting her thoughts. "I can't lose either of you."

Nat went to speak, but was cut off with a groan. Her body tensed up, pain contorting across her features. Beads of sweat quickly formed across her forehead and Y/n moved back from the bed in panic. Bucky slammed his hand on the emergency button, moving to grab Y/n. Nat was screaming in pain and Y/n could barely watch. She wanted to make it stop. She would trade places if it meant her mom would be ok.

Doctors came rushing in, pulling up Nat's hospital gown to check on her stomach. Bucky tried to drag Y/n away but she kicked her heels in in protest, not wanting to leave her mama's side. But she almost vomited into a bucket as she saw the extent of her mom's injury.

There was a scar which looked like it had come from a bullet wound. It was healed but still looked relatively knew. But that wasn't the alarming part. The skin around it was black and it spread through her veins, send some sort of toxin surging through her body, attacking her muscles and nerves. Nat was injected with something to help the pain, but it had little affect.

Her heart monitor started to spike and she thrashed around, her back arched in agony. Y/n was yelling out, fighting Bucky's tight grip as she tried to get to Nat. The monitor kept rising, the beeps getting louder and louder. The walls of the room felt like they were closing in, crushing Y/n's lungs until she could barely breathe. Her mind was a reeling mess, adrenaline running through her veins like lava. The doctors were rushing around, connecting more wires and trying to reduce Nat's pain.

It stopped.

Everything stopped. Nat's body slumped into the mattress, her muscles no longer tensing, her chest no longer heaving. In fact, it didn't rise or fall at all. Just stillness. Y/n was frozen once again in Bucky's arms, her heart hammering inside her chest like a hummingbird. No one spoke. The only noise was the heart monitor.

The continuous beep.

The one that everyone dreads.

No one moved. No one dared say a thing.

Apart from the redheaded teenager who had just lost her sun. Her moon, the light in her life. Gone. Breaking out of her papa's grasp, she raced over to Nat and threw herself on top, sobbing into her mom's neck. There was no pulse, no warmth that she usually felt. It was all gone. Reduced to nothing but an empty shell of a person. The doctors left in respect, bowing their heads as they exited.

Y/n let out a scream which echoed through the whole compound. Everyone who heard it recognised it was not one of fear. It was one of loss, of grief. Holding on to her mama's shoulders, Y/n broke down. Her heart ached to say goodbye. To rewind the last 5 minutes and say goodbye. Her body had attached itself to Nat, her legs wrapped around her waist and her face buried in her neck. Y/n's hands found their way into Nat's hair and she twisted the Scarlett strands around her fingers, almost tying themselves together.

"I can't lose you Mama. I can't lose you." Her heartbreaking mantra started out as a whisper but gradually got louder until she was screaming the words. She was angry. At Natasha. At the universe. At herself.

Wanda had tried to go in, but Bucky had told her to wait outside. He couldn't bear to watch the agonising scene, and he wanted Y/n to have some privacy. She'd just found and lost her mama on the very same day.

"Come back. You need to come back!" Nat didn't move, no matter how hard Y/n begged and pleaded.

"I can't do this alone. I need you."

"I can't lose you." Y/n’s broken voice was reduced to a whisper as she continued to recite these words. This lasted for hours. No one could remove the grieving girl from her mother's body. She just lay there, breathing in her mother's scent for the final time.

"I can't lose you."

[cherrifire]

Archived in the Southlands: Masterpost

An AU between the 3rd Life Series + The Magnus Archives.

Main AU tag: #the southland archives

[Note: This AU mostly focuses on Ren and Martyn but will look into other characters down the line.]

Act 1: Head Archivist Martyn

Main Fic Series:

Case #0211905-A: Another Man's Treasure

Case #0211905-B: Turn the White Snow Red

Case #0211905-C: Martyn's Mix

Main Art Series:

Case #0211905-A: Cherri's Another Man's Treasure art

Case #0211905-B: Cherri's Turn the White Snow Red

The Archival Team: 2017 - 2022

Fan art:

Case #0211905-A: Haunted's Another Man's Treasure art

Case #0211905-B: Myra's Turn The White Snow Red comic

Case #0211905-B: Newhermitblog's Turn The White Snow Red art

Case #0211905-B: Haunted's Turn The White Snow Red art

Case #0211905-B: Meta's Turn The White Snow Red art

-

Extra Fun Stuff:

Archivist(Martyn) and Hunter(ren)

Paladin!Martyn from LampLight AU and Hunter!Ren I made as a guest artist for DailyMartyn

Archivist!Martyn in a skirt

Hunter!Ren in a skirt

A ven diagram between Martyn InTheLittleWood and Martin Blackwood I made while first conceptualizing this AU

-

Non-Canon Material

[Note: Since I started this au here with no clear goal, the storyline I presented in the below material is not canon to the main story I wish to tell.]

Art:

[Treebark week] day 1 - Mint

[Treebark week] day 2 - Dark

[Treebark week] day 3 - Hide

[Treebark week] day 4 - Water

[Treebark week] day 5 - Stay

[Treebark week] day 6 - Win

-

[katareyoudrilling]

Audience of One (Dave York one-shot)

Pairing: Bodyguard Dave York x Female Reader

Summary: When online comments threaten your safety, you reluctantly agree to hire a bodyguard

Word count: ~3k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: a bit of danger, masturbation, unprotected PIV (please use protection IRL), a hickey (sort of)

A/N: This is my entry for @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope challenge! I got famous person AU and twisted it to fit my very niche tastes lol.  It has been quite a while since I posted something, thanks for hanging in there with me.  I really hope you enjoy it! Big thanks to @burntheedges for the beta 😘

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

Dave York Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio or let me know!

“I really think you’re overreacting.”  You finish cleaning off your instrument and securing it in your case.

“I’m not and it’s not open to discussion.” 

You sigh.  “I’m a concert violinist, not a movie star.  No one is out to ‘get me’ or whatever.  This is ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” your manager forces you to meet her gaze.  “There have been emails, social media posts… I know you don’t want to believe it, but there are creeps out there focused on you.  I need you to be safe.”

She’s looking at you with so much care and concern that the fight leaves your body.  “Fine.  Send him in.”

“Thank you.”  She turns to open the door to the dressing room and gestures to someone in the hallway.  You gather the rest of your things into your bag and prepare to head to your hotel.

Your manager steps back into the room trailed by a tall, broad, dark-haired, incredibly attractive man in an overcoat.

“Meet Dave York, your bodyguard.”

. . . . . . . . . .

“I’m really sorry about this,” you apologize for the tenth time since getting into the back of the town car with your new bodyguard in tow. “All this fuss is unnecessary.”

Dave regards you across the darkened backseat.  “Your manager doesn’t think so and neither do I.  The sooner you accept my help, the better this will go.”

You lose your train of thought as the streetlights sweep across his gorgeous features.  His pouty lips… his aquiline nose… his strong jaw… his dark eyes… each feature takes its turn in the lamplight.  It’s probably for the best, taking him in all at once might actually kill you.  No one has the right to be this handsome.

You shake yourself out of your reverie and find Dave watching you closely.  You look away quickly, shifting your focus out your window.  You cross your legs, and the slit of your dress opens, revealing your legs up to mid-thigh.  You quickly adjust the skirt to cover yourself and tell yourself that you’re imagining Dave’s eyes flickering away.

You clear your throat, “Right, umm… how is this going to go, exactly?”

“I’ll be with you during the day.  When you return to your hotel room at night, I’ll hand off responsibility to my security team.  There will be extra security at your concerts and events as well.”

“That doesn’t sound too intrusive.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“I hope you like classical music.”

“We’ll find out.”

. . . . . . . . . . .

And that’s how it goes.  Dave meets you outside your door when you’re ready to leave in the morning and accompanies you on each step of your schedule.  He tags along to masterclasses, rehearsals, concerts, and your own practice sessions.  Ushering you in and out of town cars and back exits.

You share brief conversations in the car.  His dry, sarcastic wit comes out little by little as you spend time with him.  He often makes you laugh and you thrill when his pouty lips tilt at the edges into a wry smirk at something you said.

He leaves you at your hotel room door in each city at the end of the day, waiting until you close the door to call his security team.

You don’t lean against the door and wonder where he goes after he’s with you.  That would be inappropriate.

You don’t replay the events of the day, the glances, the almost touches, that assuredly exist only in your own imagination.

You don’t catalog the little things you’ve learned about him.  Single.  No kids.  Ex-military.  Coffee, black.  Unexpected crinkles around the eyes when he smiles.

You don’t seek him out in the concert halls, looking for a sign that he enjoys the music you’re making, always finding him watching you intently from backstage, still and focused.

You don’t find yourself pulling out your favorite toy to relieve some tension more and more frequently as the days spent in his company add up.

Definitely not.

. . . . . . . . . .

“You played something different tonight.” Dave’s deep voice breaks the silence of the car. 

You hum your assent, “Sarasate’s Carmen Fantasy.  It’s a real crowd pleaser.”

“I didn’t know a violin could do that.”

You chuckle, “Yeah, the soloist gets to show off in that one.”

“You like to show off, don’t you?”

The energy in the car shifts in an instant.  Dave’s dark eyes are even darker than usual as he regards you across the cab.  The question hangs heavy in the air.  

“You have to like to show off to do my job,” you explain a bit breathlessly.  You meet his dark gaze, and he hums in approval.  “Do you like to show off, Dave?”

He drags his thumb across his lower lip, your eyes can’t help but follow the movement.

“No, I don’t like to show off.  I like to watch.”

His words hit you like an electrical current, zinging across your skin, breaking you out into full body goose bumps.

You hold each other’s gaze in the dark, your breath coming in increasingly erratic pants.  He doesn’t look away.  Neither do you.

You cross your legs and allow your skirt to fall open up your legs, just like the first night you were in the car with him.  This time, the dress has an even higher slit—you save this particular gown for when you perform the Carmen, you enjoy playing into the persona.  This time, you don’t cover up.

You watch as his gaze flickers to your bare legs, exposed practically all the way to your underwear, the tip of his tongue sneaks out to wet his plush lips.

He drags his eyes back up to yours.  The air is thick with possibility.  A line has definitely been crossed.  Words begin to bubble up from your gut when the car pulls to a stop in front of the hotel.

The moment pops like a balloon.

Dave opens his door and swings up and out of the car.  In a haze, you open your door and step out into the night.

The next moments go by in a flash.

You hear someone shout your name, Dave yells, you’re shoved against the car, unfamiliar hands grab your shoulders and whisk you into the hotel lobby and into the elevator.  The doors close before you can understand the commotion happening outside the hotel.

You’re flanked by security guards you’ve seen around after hours.  The words “assailant” “custody” “weapon” permeate the buzzing in your brain.  Questions form and dissipate in the tangle of your thoughts before you can get them out.

The elevator doors open on your floor, and you are bodily moved into your hotel room.  Before they can close the door, you finally manage to ask what’s going on only to be met with vague instructions to stay in your room and wait.

You pace the floor and look out your window, hoping for a glimpse of what might be happening on the street below, but you’re on the wrong side of the building.  It doesn’t hold any answers for you.

Your hands reach for your phone only to realize it’s still in your bag in the car, along with your instrument case.

The car.

Your mind returns to that moment right before you pulled up to the hotel.  So ripe with promise and possibility.

Then you had gotten out of the car.

Oh shit.

You got out of the car yourself.  You opened your door yourself.  You weren’t supposed to do that. Dave opens your door.  Dave ushers you out of the car.

It’s all your fault.

Just as your thoughts threaten to spiral, there’s a firm knock on your door.

“It’s me.  Everything is ok. Open the door.” You hear Dave through the door.  You rush over and check the peephole like he told you to.  At least you can say you remembered to do that.  You confirm it’s him and open the door.

“Dave, I—”

He crashes into you, pressing you against the wall with the length of his body before claiming your mouth with a rough, desperate kiss.  His hands grip your chin, your shoulders, your hip as he devours your mouth.

Your hands scrabble against his chest, finding the lapels of his coat to hang on.

Just as suddenly as you found yourself kissing Dave, you aren’t.  He pulls back abruptly leaving you cold and breathless.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t ha—”

You pull him back to you by his coat, drawing his mouth back to yours.  You lick into his mouth, moaning as he responds.

This kiss is less frantic, but still full of need.  Your tongues tangle together, tasting and testing.

Dave eventually breaks away, resting his forehead against yours.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m ok, but what happened?”

“A man came running toward you, the police have him now.  I’m sure it’s the person making those creepy comments about you online.”

“I got out of the car by myself, Dave, I’m so sorry, I know I’m n—”

“Shh,” he hushes you.  “It’s ok.  You’re ok.”

He presses his lips to yours, swallowing your protests, until you melt into him.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He drags his lips down your throat, across your collarbones and shoulders.  He licks back up the side of your neck.

You gasp as he drags his tongue over the sensitive spot on your neck.

“I noticed this mark the night I first met you,” he murmurs into your skin. “I was so jealous of whoever got to do that to you.  I kept waiting to find out who it was, to see if they were worthy of marking your skin, but there has been no one and the mark has stayed.”  You sense the unasked question.

“My… it’s… a violin hickey,” you pant as he drags his nose up the column of your throat and along your jaw. “Where my violin rubs against my neck when I play.”  He chuckles.

“Should I be jealous of your violin?”

“Probably.”

He hums against you.  “Fair enough.”

He steps back to the hotel room door and for a moment your heart drops thinking that he might be leaving, but he only opens the door to pull your bag and violin case into the room.  You hear him conversing with a guard outside before he closes the door, locking the deadbolt before turning back to you.

He shrugs off his overcoat and suit jacket.  He loosens the knot of his tie and begins to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves.  You watch the movement of his fingers with rapt attention.

“So, Miss Show off. Do you want to show off for me?”  His eyes flash dangerous and dark and a thrill runs up your spine.

Adrenaline tingles in your fingertips as you find the zipper of your dress and pull it down your side.

You lock eyes with Dave as you let your gown fall to the floor, a puddle at your feet.  You are left standing in only your panties and high heels.

Dave drinks you in, caressing your curves with his warm gaze.  Your nipples harden under his perusal and wetness pools between your legs.  It’s all you can do to not rub your thighs together.

“Get on the bed.” He commands, his voice deep and rasping with need.  His shirtsleeves are rolled up now, exposing the tendons and veins in his forearms.  His hands fist at his sides, clearly fighting the urge to touch you.  But you’ve learned this about Dave, he is always in control of himself.

You walk over to the bed, turning your back to him and adding an extra sway to your hips.  You catch his strangled moan at the sight of your round ass framed by the string of your thong.  You turn to sit at the end of the bed with a satisfied smirk.  Dave stands at arm’s length from you, pinning you with his dark eyes.

“Show me.  Let me see if those fingers can play your pussy as well as they play your violin.”

You gasp at his filthy words and your center clenches with need.  Keeping your eyes on him once again, you drag your panties down your legs and off, kicking off your shoes as you do, and scoot a bit farther onto the bed.

You lean back into the plush bedding, resting on one elbow, knees bent, and spread your legs for Dave.

He drinks you in hungrily as you part yourself for him, dipping your fingers into your wetness.

Your mouth falls open as you circle your clit, a moan escaping your chest.  You fight to keep your eyes open so you can watch Dave watch you.  You really do like to show off and he is an eager audience.

You quicken your pace, hitting the rhythm you like best, and find yourself careening towards your peak.  Your hips buck on the bed, and you whine that you’re close.

“Show me,” Dave commands one last time before you fall over the edge, pulsing and shivering through your release.

 “Do I get a standing ovation?” you ask, breathless, once you’ve come back to yourself. 

“You tell me.”

You crack one eye open and find that he’s standing at the end of the bed naked.  His cock juts proudly away from his hips at full attention.

“My favorite kind.” You lick your lips as you sit up and crawl to the edge of the bed.  You look up at him as you take the tip of his cock between your lips, sliding down the hard length of him.  You watch his stomach flex with effort as he resists fucking into your mouth.

It makes you want to make him lose control.  He’s always alert and watching.  Even in the car on the way to the hotel tonight, he kept his cool as you tempted him.  Bursting into your room to kiss you is the only time you’ve seen him not in complete control of himself.

You tongue and suck and moan around him, losing yourself in the rhythm.  Dave drags his fingers down your cheek and throat.  

“Look at you, fuck.” He cups your breasts, swaying heavily between your arms, and pinches your nipples.  “I want to watch these tits bounce while I fuck you.”

You whimper around his length, arousal practically dripping down your legs.  He pulls out of your mouth, diving down to kiss you deeply and press you backwards onto the bed.

He arranges himself against the headboard and drags you on top of him.  “Ride me, baby,” he commands.  You eagerly comply, lining his weeping cock up with your entrance.

Your eyes roll back in your head as you sink down onto him, the stretch is so delicious with every inch you take.  When you bottom out, you open your eyes to find Dave breathing hard, the tendons of his neck taut with effort.

You rise and sink back down slowly, angling yourself backwards so he can see his cock disappear into your wet heat.  He licks the pad of his thumb and reaches between you, giving you friction that makes you shudder with each roll of your hips.

“Fuck yes,” he groans, eyes locked on your greedy pussy, swallowing him whole.  You feel yourself start to flutter around him, the intensity of his eyes on you drives your arousal higher and higher.  Being watched with so much desire gives you such a thrill that your orgasm threatens to take you far too soon.

You slow and lean forward, placing a hand on the headboard over Dave’s head.  Your breasts wobble in front of his face and he quickly takes one nipple into his mouth.  You arch your back into him as he sucks and tugs, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

He holds your hips still with one hand as he feasts on you, bringing his other to cup and pinch your tender flesh.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry as the pressure builds in your core.  Your hips grind into him, seeking relief as he relentlessly toys with you.

He allows you to move, to chase your high, riding his cock with abandon as he looks up at you with lust blown eyes.  You tilt your hips, and he finds your clit once again.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he praises you as you near your peak.  “Come on my cock, baby.  I want to feel you.”

You come with a gasp, rising up on your knees as your pussy clenches then collapsing back down with shuddering pulses.  Dave caresses your back before rolling you over and gently pulling out.  He kneels between your legs, stroking his length, as you lie boneless and hazy.

“That was so fucking hot, baby.” His jaw clenches as he strokes himself faster and faster.  “I fucking love to watch you.  Watch you play your violin… watch you touch yourself… watch you fuck…”

“It’s my turn, Dave,” you interrupt.  “I want to watch you come.  Come all over me.” You prop yourself up on your elbows and smirk at the way a shudder moves through his body.  He lets go with a groan, ropes of cum painting your tummy and chest.

You both collapse, satisfied.  Dave cleans you up, taking extra care with your breasts.  You smirk as he chases the warm cloth with his even warmer mouth.

“What happens now?” you ask later, when you’re twined together on the bed. “If that was the guy…”

“I’ll be here as long as you need me and even after you don’t,” Dave presses a kiss to the top of your head.  You snuggle into his side, relaxing in the knowledge that you are safe and thrilled with the prospect of showing off again for your audience of one.

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

A/N: I don't have, and never have had, a violin hickey. I probably don't practice enough lol. But they are often seen as a point of pride among violinists.

Dave York Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist - in reblog

[blindmagdalena]

writing a completely insane au for the boys rn and I'm having such a hard time figuring out what age the seven (i.e a-train, the deep, maeve, translucent, noir) are in season 1 specifically and when they all joined the seven (minus homelander and starlight obvi) and i was wondering if you had literally any idea at all

A-Train, Maeve and the Deep are apparently all around the same age. i can't find a source for it, but this article has a whole bunch of birthdays and info. March 1985 for the Deep, March 1986 for Maeve, and January 1987 for A-Train.

they all attended Godolkin, so it's possible they graduated one after another and were each hired by Vought straight out of school. we know A-Train did Teenage Kix before he joined the seven, but career-wise nothing else is mentioned for Maeve and The Deep.

A-Train is the youngest of the bunch and he did replace Mister Marathon, so before Annie, he would have been the newest member.

Translucent is closer to Homelander's age, like 40, which makes sense to me.

they don't have an exact age for Annie, but during s1 her mom says something to the effect of "I've been waiting 23 years for this" so i would assume Annie is 23-24 when she joins the seven.

Noir is more complicated. he appeared to be in his mid-20s in 1984, but he has a healing factor, a power that typically slows aging, so it's hard to say how old he is.

as for when they joined The Seven, according to Diabolical—which i believe takes place around the year 2000—Homelander would have been the founding captain with Noir being the teammate he met first. although Homelander tells Maeve that she's the one he's known the longest, so take that with a grain of salt.

all that said, i'd say the team was formed with Homelander, Black Noir, Queen Maeve, Translucent, The Deep, Lamplighter and Mister Marathon in the early 2000s.

[appalamutte]

When Eric finally, after three hours of deliberation, decides to take a shower, the oven timer sounds from across the apartment.

"Shoot, hon," he says to a sleeping Deke as he scrambles half-naked down the hall and into the combined kitchen-slash-living room. The dog doesn't even pick his head up—just opens his eyes and raises one ear from the worn-down dog bed in the corner beside the couch. "What is your daddy going to do? Forgetting I put some apple turnovers on, Lord, my mind is plum gone."

A small waft of smoke burns at his eyes when he opens the oven door. The turnovers are a touch too crispy, blackened on the bottoms in a way Eric's always disliked and his family's always preferred. He sets them to cool on top of the stove.

He also lights an apple pumpkin candle, just for the hell of it.

Maybe he even still grabs one to eat.

Some hockey game is playing on the television when he goes to sit on the couch. Eric doesn't even remember turning the television on, let alone deciding to watch the game tonight of all things, but the Falconers are currently losing against the Canucks in the fourth quarter and the turnover tastes like burnt flour in his mouth and Eric was fired from his job, for the first time in his life, earlier that morning.

Deke stands from the dog bed—oh, who is Eric fooling, it's an outdoor patio cushion Eric bought on clearance a few years ago that was the perfect size for Deke to lay on—stretches, yawns, shakes sleep off his body and joins Eric on the couch. Noses his way toward the turnover in Eric's hand, digs his paws into the thin cotton of Eric's underwear to stand up, up, up until Eric's forced to shove the rest of the turnover into his still-full mouth.

"Down," he mumbles out, and Deke doesn't listen, but he does lick at Eric's face and that's okay, too.

"Mashkov chips the puck up the ice into Canuck territory, St. Martin goes to pick it up," the announcer is saying, the bright white light of the game clashing with the soft lamplight of Eric's apartment. "Bit of a struggle with Canuck's number twenty-eight, though St. Martin is able to snatch the puck and send it up to Zimmermann, who—"

"What am I going to do with you?" Eric asks once Deke yawns again and lays halfway onto Eric's lap, belly-side up and ears flopped this way and that.

His phone lights up from the side table, buzzes once, then goes dark again. Eric ignores it for all of two seconds before he snatches it up and unlocks it, seeing seven missed phone calls, fifty-two text messages, three emails, a handful of Twitter notifications, and a reminder from Tinder that his profile will be hidden soon if he doesn't log back in to it. That one is immediately deleted, as well as his emails—all from clients who haven't been told he's no longer with the company—but the Twitter notifications grab his attention long enough that he misses out on the goal the Falconers score until the network starts showing replays.

"What a goal! Wow, Rick, I have to say, despite the rough game they've had up until this point, Zimmermann may have just turned their spirits around. I mean, talk about an all-around masterclass of a shot. He's been quiet all night and then he does this? It's like he's been waiting until this moment to make something happen."

The cameras flick through a series of shots: the full rink from above, panning across the team celebrating at the bench, coming in close to where Robinson's pulling Jack down to Mashkov's wide-open arms for a hug. The joy is palpable. The smiles are wider than Eric would expect for a goal in a lost game. Jack doesn't look so frustrated now, not like he was looking the other night over the phone, and he makes eye contact with the camera as St. Martin comes in to pat against his helmet and Jack winks.

He—he winks.

The screen changes to that of the announcers as soon as Eric registers what he just saw. Surely, that wasn't—he didn't—now, Eric might be a gullible person under the right circumstances, but he's not delusional; he knows Jack doesn't know he's watching the broadcast because they haven't talked since yesterday when Jack was still in Seattle and Eric's life hadn't yet fallen apart and today's game was never mentioned. Jack didn't wink for Eric. He winked for the camera, for all the fans, a culmination of the Falconers' media training and Eric's gentle pushing that he needs to be more personable, more charming, at least for the media.

But—something warm settles inbetween the spaces of Eric's ribs and slowly fills the cavity of his heart.

The Falconers still lose the game. The announcers mention that this is now the fourth game the Falconers have lost in a row. Eric watches until the station starts covering highlights from another game from earlier in the day, and when he turns the television off, he finds the apartment to be silent.

Though, not like before. Not like when he first got home from work six hours too early and turned his phone off and fell face-first on his unmade bed. Deke softly snores in Eric's lap now, hot to the touch. It almost smells like home did when Eric was ten and helping his Mama bake after school. For the first time in years, despite the circumstances, Eric doesn't have to set any alarms for a Thursday morning.

Jack's making a layover in New York tomorrow.

That is enough.