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simpleeindulge · 3 months

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The Beast and the Mouse

Info: fem/reader x Kid, 1st meetings, cussing and rude language, Kid in denial, Kid gets a crush, implied sexual yearning, future mature content planned.

Context: Kid develops a crush on a girl he thinks is not his type.

Part 1.

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, and he didn't care who knew it. He stumped through the ship with his fist clutched, looking for Killer. It was rare for him to be pissed off at his best friend and first mate, but dammit, he screwed up!

Killer happened to be in the same room with his fucked-up choice of a new crew member, making Kid paused at the doorway to glared at the man's back. Killer sensed the hostility and glanced over his shoulder. The movement gave Kid a better view of the girl's eyes. Those damn beautiful, doleful eyes that made Kid go still nearly every time he saw them.

“Need something, Captain?”

Kid snapped out of his daze and glared at Killer.

“I need to speak with you in private,” Kid said through gritted teeth then walked away.

Killer tilted his head at Kid, then shrugged and followed him. It was odd that Kid wanted to talk somewhere else.

Normally, Kid would tell whoever was in the room to get out if he wanted to talk with him privately. When Killer walked into Kid’s messy quarters and closed the door, Kid rounded on him and bellowed, “What the hell, Killer! What were you thinking, letting her join the crew without asking me!”

Killer threw up his hands in defense, and he wore a surprised expression behind his mask.

“What are you talking about, Kid?! You asked her to join! Remember!”

“I did not! I-”

But then Kid remembered that he did offer her a chance to join his crew. It had been after a battle with some weaker crew. They celebrated the win at a bar on a nearby island, and she was one of the barmaids there serving drinks.

That is, she was supposed to be serving, but she saw the wounds on some of the men drinking and started treating with her meager medical kit.

Kid had some woman straddle across his lap and happened to see the girl recleaning a wound on Killer. At the time, it was amusing to see this small mouse of a girl patching up rowdy pirates as they drank. How she concentrated on the Killer’s wounds while being aware of her environment made her a paradox of perfection.

“Hey,” Kid called over to her as the woman on his lap kissed and nipped at his neck. “You got a name?”

The girl looked up at him, and Kid, for some reason, froze. There was something about how her eyes shone as she stared directly at him. Her lips were pressed together in a sweet pout, and her hair fell in soft-looking waves around her shoulders.

Kid didn't know if it was the booze, but he felt a desire to shove the busty woman off his lap and carry the girl off. Considering how small she looked, he could even tuck her into his furred cape for safekeeping and have her for later.

The woman stopped kissing Kid, looking peeved that he wasn't paying attention to her.

She then saw who he was looking at and whispered in his ear, “That’s Y/n, but we all call her ‘Mouse’ because of how quiet she is.”

Kid blinked and then laughed at the name, and the harlot laughed with him. “Mouse, huh? How would you like to join my crew?”

“Kid.” Killer said his name to bring some sense to him, but Kid plowed through.

“You’ll see the world beyond this dump ‘little mouse’! See things you never thought possible! Enjoy pleasures you never thought to desire! You would be one of us! The infamous Kid Pirates!”

His voice carried through the bar, and the rest of his crew got swept up in their drunken state and cheered their captain. The girl just sat and stared at Kid as the crew gulped their drinks.

“Think about and talk to Killer when you make up your mind, ‘little mouse.' We set sail tomorrow at noon.”

Kid forced his attention back to the woman on his lap and began biting at her shoulder, making the woman gasp and laugh with pleasure.

After that, well, he ended the night with a good fuck in one of the bedrooms upstairs and walked back to the ship with a massive hangover early the following day.

He didn't see the girl nicknamed Mouse till they were already out at sea. She was helping to scrub the floors in the mess hall when Kid tripped over her, spilling the bucket of soapy water. He was about to yell at whoever tripped him when Kid recognized her from the bar.

“YOU!”

"Oh! Captain, I'm so sorry; let me help." She said softly as she took out a clean cloth and dried his face. Her hand touched his leg as she leaned in to press the fabric to his skin.

Kid went from anger to pure lust. He wanted to grab her and roll her under him without caring who was watching. The sudden carnal desire he suddenly felt overwhelmed him, and he quickly shoved her off him and stood up over her.

She made a surprised sound and glanced up at him with a wounded look that made his knees weak.

“How long have you been here?” Kid growled at her.

“Three days.”

“Who let you on my ship?”

“Killer, but you-”

Kid had left to find his first mate as he cursed himself.

Dammit! How could she have already been here for three days without me noticing?

Which led to the present problem of what to do with her now she's on the ship.

"I tried talking to you the day we set sail, but you were still hungover.” Killer explained as Kid rage grew.

“So you just let her on the ship!”

“The girl insisted on joining the crew. I was there when you asked her, and she didn't care that you were drunk when you asked her." Killer continued to explain.

"So this is my fault?!"

Well, yeah, duh, Killer thought but knew better and instead said, "Look, she may be useful. Heat looked over her bandaging skills. She's not bad and has enough medical knowledge for him to show her more."

"For what!? A nurse!" Kid roared. “We don't need another nurse!”

"She'll be a field medic." Killer clarified.

Kid's mind just stopped as he stared dumbfounded at his first mate. Her? A field medic? Her? Why not just shoot her now? It would be kinder and faster. Or if they wanted to make it slow, tie her up and drop her overbroad.

"You got to be kidding," Kid laughed as he started to pace the room.

"You want that small girl to go onto a battlefield and treat our crewmates! I might as well kill her right now! It would be the one good deed tied to my name!"

Kid then ran a hand through his red hair as he stopped pacing and shook his head. "No! No way! I want her off the ship!"

"But Kid, you-"

"I don't care what I said to her! No way am I keeping some weak pissant around to hold back our crew back!"

Killer's shoulder heaved as he sighed and said, "Okay, I'll see that she's off the ship at the next port. In the meantime, I'll have her do some odd jobs so she can earn her keep."

"Why wait?! Just put her on a rowboat and-"

"Captain."

Kid froze and snapped his gaze toward the doorway. Mouse, that is, Y/N, stood there looking at him with a firm expression on her sweet face.

It was unsettling how quiet she was as she moved. The door to Kid's cabin always creaked, yet she opened the door without a sound. She took a breath and walked into the room. Kid watched her and, for some absurd reason, felt nervous.

"Captain," she said again, "I want to stay and prove you wrong. I won't hold the crew back."

Killer watched as Kid had to visibly shake himself out of whatever sinkhole his mind had just dived into. He readies himself as Kid squares his shoulders and glares down at the girl. The girl didn't appear intimidated and even clasped her hands in front of her as her chin tilted up.

"You want to prove me wrong. Are you saying that you aren't a weak little-"

"I have experience treating the wounded, and I'm not afraid to go into a battle to help." She said quickly as her eyes softened at him.

Her voice was not raised, and her tone didn't sound desperate. It was like she was offering Kid a favor. A kind, healthful favor that made Kid's insides go all mushy.

"Please, Captain." She added gently as her lashes blinked at him. "Let me stay."

Killer glanced at Kid and was surprised to see him deflating. And if his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, Kid was... blushing? Yes, yes, he was. Kid was actually blushing over this tiny, sincere girl who looked out of place on their ship.

Kid gritted his teeth and slapped his hand over his nose and cheeks to hide part of the redness spreading on his face.

“Captain?” She asked again, now looking worried.

Kid growled and turned his head away as he shouted, "Fine! You can stay! But if you screw up, I will personally end you! Now go find something useful to do before I toss you off the side!"

Y/N smiled widely and didn't appear offended by Kid's shouting or threats. "Yes, Captain! Right away! I'll start by cleaning your room!"

"Wait, what?!" Kid had barely enough time to respond when both he and Killer were shoved out of the room and had the door slam closed on their backs.

"What the-how?"

He turned and stared at the closed door and back at Kid. How was a tiny girl able to shove him and Killer out in the blink of an eye.

"She ate the scurry-scurry fruit," Killer explained with a shrug as Kid looked to him for an answer. "It's the other reason she was known as Mouse at the bar. She can move around quickly without making sound and lift five times her weight for a short time. It's also why I gave her the field medic job."

"She can't turn into a mouse, right?" Kid asked as he shivered at the thought of a human transfiguring into a rodent. "Cause that would be gross."

"And less cute," Killer commented with a slight grin behind his mask.

The way Kid snapped his head around at him was enough to prove his sudden discovery. His friend's face was even beginning to redden again. Killer held back a chuckle and cleared his throat.

"I'm going to get a drink; want to join?"

Kid grumbled and walked in the other direction away from Killer. There was no fucking way he thought that the girl was cute. Weak wasn't cute; it was annoying and a pain. She wouldn't last a week with his crew.

If she died on the job, it would be her fault, not his! What was she thinking taking his drunken offer?! Didn't she know she was too delicate for this kind of life?! Didn't she know how small, soft-looking she was? How cute-

"NO! NOT CUTE!" Kid roared as he raked his fingers into his hair and nearly ripped off his goggles.

Nearby onlookers wisely glanced away and didn't bother their Captain. Kid growled and turned to stomp back to his room to throw the girl out.

When he got there, she was already gone, leaving behind a tidy room. Kid glanced around, huffed, and muttered, "I guess she can stay."

He then flopped onto his clean bed face first and sighed. He'll worry about his 'Mouse' problem later. All this raging was making him tired.

As he closed his eyes, he could smell the scent she had left behind while making his bed. Thoughts of her being in his bed, being under him, squirming and wriggling as she whimpered and moaned, seeped into his mind. Kid groaned and growled as he punched his fist into the blankets.

She was going to be a pain, and not just in the ass; Kid mused as his groin throbbed.

A big pain for such a little creature.

Part 2.

#eustass kid x y/n #eustass kid x you #eustass kid x reader #eustass x reader #op eustass kid #eustass kidd #eustasscaptainkid #eustass captain kidd #eustass kid #op fanfic #one piece #op killer #kid x reader #captain kid x reader #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #op x reader

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webslingingslasher · 6 months

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Sometimes I like to think Peter confessed to trouble one night after randomly barging into her dorm room thru the window, bleeding in like 20 dif places, and while she’s frantic asking what the fuck happened looking for a med kit he’s high off adrenaline and is like “SPIDER-MAN. ME SPIDER-MAN.” and she’s just like “what the FUCK did you just say?!”

it makes me giggle

-🪼

😭😭😭 i could imagine this fr. like, he was on the brink of blacking out, bleeding out and dying and all he had was you because may is at minimum, thirty minutes away.

peter leaves a bloody handprint on your window when he pushes it open, then collapses to your floor while heaving for air. you nearly jump out of bed at the sound, terrified and ready to call peter because who the fuck entered your room through your window in the middle of the night?

except it’s spider-man, and you jump into action, getting to him in two steps and hitting the carpet with your knees.

grabbing his shoulder, ‘oh my god, oh my god, spider-man, are you okay?’ he’s not okay, he’s dying on your floor.

peter doesn’t have it in him to play pretend, he rips the mask off. you gasp and throw him back into the wall, peter groans.

‘what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the-‘

‘trouble, please.’

you run around, your mom packed you a first aid kit when you moved to college, you’ve never used it. now you need it, where the fuck is it?

‘what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, peter?’

he’s clutching his side, there’s so much blood.

‘this is why you’re not allowed to do this, you promise me right now you’ll stop.’

‘you know i can’t,’ he gasps for air, ‘do that.’

‘oh what the fuck, this isn’t happening. what the fuck, this is how you told me? i mean, what the fuck?!’

‘you’re doing a great job at handling it, super stellar.’

you throw a towel at him, he holds it to his worst laceration.

‘don’t you dare get upset with me, you’re the one leading a double life showing up to my fucking window at deaths door. jesus christ, peter. what the fuck!’

‘can i please get a bandaid?’

you find the kit, you tear the plastic and open it.

‘you need a fucking trauma unit.’

peter pulls out a roll of gauze, then motions towards his suit, ‘do me a favor and get me out of this.’

‘oh my god, am i dreaming? this isn’t real life, you’re not real.’

peter’s struggling to free himself, you help while dazed. your brain is melting. ‘is this a bad time to ask for an autograph?’

he stares at you. you blink back.

peter can’t believe he has to say it. ‘yes. it’s a terrible time.’

you pull the suit down to his hips, he’s cut a million different ways. ‘so, is that a no?’

peter wraps the gauze around his arm and tears it with his teeth, the sight makes your heart thump, he looks up at you. ‘don’t you dare get turned on right now, that’s sadistic.’

‘you’re hot when you’re bloody.’

‘oh, jesus christ. fucking cauterize me and you can live out your fantasies.’

you grab a handful of bandaids and a tube of neosporin. ‘on it.’

#frat!peter drabbles #peter parker blurb #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader

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slasherbvnnie · 1 year

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Until We Found You | Part VIII

Hello again, part viii is finally out. One last chapter left of this series. I hope it’s been enjoyable so far. This one is a bit short, but don’t worry. The next part will be longer. Tomorrow will officially be the last update. I hope you all return for the next series I write. You know the drill, heed the tags below.

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Poly!Ghostface x reader, NSFW, All characters 18+

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part IX

Word Count: 954

You stumbled on your feet a little as you walked downstairs, in a daze as Stu set you onto the counter. He gave you a kiss on the cheek before heading outside to help Billy with Colton, you grimaced as you saw him and looked away. “Awe come on sweetheart, I saw the photos you had of Casey and Steve in your room,” Billy said with a chuckle, “It’s different in real life, huh? After they die though, it’s kinda the same as seeing it online or in photos. They don’t look real anymore,” he said as you shook your head, “my side hurts,” you said as you looked to them.

Stu was quick to look over your wounds, glaring at Billy and punching his shoulder. “You hit deep, fuckrag,” he said as you whimpered. “Come on sweetie, you’re strong, you can last a little longer, right?” Stu said as he cupped your cheek, your eyes began to well with tears again as you nodded. “Yeah, I can,” you said with a sniffle. Billy was by your side now, kissing you and apologizing over and over as he patched you up. “Come on, little bunny, we gotta get ready now, Tate’s gonna be here soon,” he said as he kissed your cheek and helped you off the counter.

You were sat on the floor of Stu’s kitchen, feeling a jab at your shoulder and blinking in surprise when you saw Dewey hovering above you. “Hey kid,” he said, tears in his eyes as he looked at you. “Dewey,” you said softly, sniffling and letting out a little yelp as he picked you up. “You’re pretty good with a sewing kit by the looks of it,” he said as he looked to the first aid kit next to you. “Oh, yeah, my mom taught me…” you mumbled out, squinting when you saw the daylight. You didn’t remember what time last night you had fallen asleep. You remember Tatum coming back to the house, after the boys dealt with her you remember being in the back of Stu’s car. Stu stayed with you until Billy gave him his queue, after that, things got a little blurry. You remember them hyping each other up about something and their groans, you remember the blood on the kitchen floor of…Stu’s house. After that you remember one of the boys trying to stitch up the wound they gave you, to make it more believable they said. You couldn’t remember which one of them it was, at that point you had began to get a little dizzy.

“Stu…Billy… Where? Are they okay?” You asked as Dewey looked to you. “We’re still taking a look around the house. We’ll let you know if we find them, okay?” He said as he brought you to the ambulance, setting you down for the EMS to check on you. As the minutes passed you saw gurneys with black bags being hauled out, Dewey walking to his patrol car and crying, but eventually you saw Stu on a gurney. Your heart fluttered knowing he was okay, you looked to the paramedic and asked if you could go check on him, thanking them and slowly walking over, being mindful of your injuries. “Stu,” you called out, the older boy looking at you and smiling. “Hey,” he said as he reached for your hand. A moment later you saw Billy, feeling relieved knowing both of them were okay.

You rubbed at your eyes as a few tears fell, feeling everything from the last few hours hitting you like a ton of bricks. You could hear voices in the background, looking up when you heard your parents calling your name. You groaned as they ran to hug you, Stu’s hand slipping from your grip. “I’m okay, really, it’s just a scratch,” you tried to play off, receiving even stronger hugs and more kisses from them.

You noticed a few officers making their way towards you and Stu, both gladly giving them the same story of what happened that night.

All about how ghostface tried to attack you on the porch, how the three of you did your best to get out before learning it was mr prescott behind the mask. How he was going berserk because of the anniversary of Maureen. After he thought he wounded the three of you he left in Stu’s car, meanwhile the three of you were left wounded and exhausted.

It wasn’t long until you could hear the shuttering of cameras and announcements in stuck up news reporter voices not too far. The paramedics treated you, but with the prices of ambulances your parents opted to drive you to the hospital themselves. You looked to your side as you walked to your parents car, seeing Gale Weathers and her henchman with the camera. You frowned, shooting your middle finger at them before climbing into the car. You looked out the window, smiling as you saw the boys parents taking them back into their cars and away from the crime scene.

You were happy to know they were okay, to know they were getting their big dream of being directors of their own movie, to know you all could finally be together. Although you hated the way the girls were left, you couldn’t deny the little twinge of jealousy from last night. They had Billy and Stu all to themselves for so long, when the boys revealed themselves to you, you felt jealous to know Tatum and Sidney had been with them. Despite the small amount of sadness you had now that they were dead, you felt a bit of happiness knowing they were gone and you could have the boys to yourself now instead.

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to-thelakes · 1 month

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exhausted

pairing; frank castle x fem!reader (mentions of matt murdock)

summary; after you lose your cool at matt and frank, frank comes to see you and helps you get some much-needed rest

warnings; initial angst, a smidge of hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic frank castle, soft frank castle, exhausted reader, insomniac reader, discussion of nightmares

notes; this one-shot is an oldie but a goodie, i keep reading back and looking at some one-shots i've previously written and i think this one is good enough that i can share it with the world, i wrote it initially with sharing it in mind so i might as well do it! also this one-shot thingie was inspired by a one-shot i saw here on tumblr, the beginning of this is pretty similar to the one i read so if anyone knows what fic i'm referencing, i'd love to be able to credit who inspired this! otherwise, this is just some comforting frank content because i am an avid insomniac and sometimes you just need the big scary punisher to help you fall asleep

masterlist

You weren’t entirely sure how it had happened but at some point between knowing Matt and Frank, you had become their nurse. Of course, you didn’t particularly mind. Matt had always been kind to you and you enjoyed his company. He was a little flirty but you were used to it and you could lament in your misery with him.

With Frank, he had saved you from some criminals months ago and you had been freaking out. He did his best to calm you down before walking you home and after a particularly bad night, Matt brought Frank to you to patch up. Honestly, you didn’t mind their company and you didn’t mind patching them up.

Ever since you’d moved on from being a Nurse, you’d refound your passion for caring for people but only if it was Frank or Matt. But you also hated taking care of them. Despite having a relatively normal life and sleep schedule compared to when you were a nurse, you were still woken up in the middle of the night by them.

It had been a quiet night for you. You’d finished work and curled up on your bed to drift off and you had. It had been a blissful sleep until you were rudely awoken by your phone ringing. You wanted to tell whoever it was to leave you the fuck alone but when you saw it was Matt, you answered. He asked if you could come over and help patch Frank and him up.

You - reluctantly - agreed since he was only a block over. You didn’t want them bloody up your apartment and so with a great huff, you got out of bed. You changed into comfortable clothes and then grabbed your kit for nights like these and headed to Matt’s place.

Getting in wasn’t hard even in your exhausted and sleepy daze. You managed to find your way up to the fire escape where the two men were sitting. Well, Frank was sat, leaning against the vent, cradling a wound while Matt stood. He was pacing in his Daredevil costume and he looked frustrated. It was practically radiating off of him.

They both looked pretty bruised and yet, they were still arguing. It took you a minute to catch on to the conversation but the second you did you sighed.

“You gotta let me do my shit, altar boy. I don’t give a shit what you can sense, I know what I’m doing and we would have been fine if you hadn’t stopped me from doing my goddamn job,” Frank raged as he stared up at Matt. His hand was pressed against the wound on his side and yet his jaw still flexed with obvious annoyance.

“If you had just listened to me then we would have been fine! You never listen, I can hear more than you can. I can hear their guns, Frank. If you had just shut your damn mouth for one goddamn second, it would have been fine!” Matt snapped in response. His annoyance was radiating off of him and you just looked between them. You weren’t entirely convinced that even of them had realised you were there but you knew Matt could smell you.

“I listen fucking plenty. I knew what I was getting my sorry ass into but you just have to be the fucking saviour, don’t you Red? Always a hero,” Frank scoffed. His tone was scathing and he winced when the pain only seemed to get worse. The irritation that Matt waking you up had began only seemed to grow as you listened to them continue to bicker back and forth about who was right and who was responsible for Frank’s wound. And why Red just couldn’t have listened to Frank for one goddamn minute.

It was probably five minutes of bickering and you had finally had enough. You dropped your kit bag onto the floor and suddenly, both of their attentions snapped to you.

“You are both so insufferable!” You snapped suddenly, glaring between the two men, “I get my ass out of bed after working all fucking day for you two to be bickering like three-year-olds over something that doesn’t fucking matter anymore. Take my shit and patch yourself up. I’m done with this.” Your anger only seemed to grow and you watched as both Matt and Frank’s face fell. You stepped back from the pair of them, “Ungrateful bastards,” You muttered as you headed back to the fire escape and towards Matt’s apartment.

“Hey(!), sweetheart,” Frank’s voice made you pause in your steps. If his next words weren’t an apology, you were going to scream, “Don’t gotta be so fucking moody. Didn’t even see ya.” That was it and you turned on your heel to face them again.

“I couldn’t give a shit if you didn’t see me Frank. I know sure as hell that Matt could smell me before I even got onto the fucking roof. And I’m sure his senses will tell him that I haven’t showered in three days because I’ve been so busy with my new fucking workload that I have barely had the chance to take care of myself. This is the first evening that I haven’t had to work late for my asshole boss and I finally managed to get some sleep until you assholes had to wake me up because you can never work together! I honestly don’t care what happens to you next time. If one of you gets bloody and bruised, don’t fucking call me. Lose my number, both of you.” And with that final word, you walked off the roof and down to Matt’s apartment. You felt like crying, the irritation had seeped into frustration and the tears were blurring your vision as you pulled the apartment door open.

“Sweetheart,” Matt’s voice was so soft as he rushed over to you in the doorway. Your head snapped up so that he could look at you or you assumed he was, you could tell where he was looking with that stupid mask on, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called,” Matt’s voice had softened significantly as he was looking at you.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” You bit back. Matt’s lips turned down into a frown. He suddenly had no idea what to say. He had never seen you like this. Even when you were stressed and overworked as a nurse, you always had this sunny disposition to everything that you did. This was new, he hated it because he knew it was his fault.

“Please, how can I fix this?” Matt asked and you rolled your eyes. The apartment door still open in front of you.

“I told you, lose my number,” You snapped. Matt frowned but before he could even say anything, you were gone. He let out a frustrated huff and he listened as you walked to the elevator and disappeared down to street-level. He didn’t know what to do now.

The weekend eventually rolled around and you were relaxing for the first time in a very long time. You were curled up on the couch, watching trash TV with a pizza from your favourite take-out on the coffee table. It was the ideal day.

Well, that was until you heard a knock at your apartment door. A soft huff escaped your lips and you unfurled yourself from your cocoon of blankets to answer it. When you pulled the door open, the last person you expected stood on the other side. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in Frank Castle in all his broad glory with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your favourite flowers no doubt. You didn’t even know what to say.

“Ya said don’t call,” Frank began and then he held out the flowers, “So I came over instead.” There was a slight softness to his words and it made you let out a soft chuckle. You shook your head but took the bouquet from his hands.

“Thank you,” You mumbled before gesturing for him to come in. The trashy TV show you had on was playing as you grabbed a vase from under the sink and ripped the wrapping from around the flowers. You then grabbed some scissors from the drawer and Frank watched as you snipped the ends at a diagonal and placed them into the water before adding the packet of food.

“M’sorry about the other night,” Frank said after a few beats of silence. You shrugged and rearranged the flowers and when you were happy enough with them, you took them over to the windowsill to replace the faux flowers you had put there weeks ago, “I really appreciate everything’ ya do for me,” He said as he watched you move. You shrugged and wrapped your arms around yourself, moving to sit down on your sofa. You didn’t want to have this conversation.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” You said firmly. Frank sighed and he glanced at the door, not sure whether you wanted him to leave or stay. You glanced back at him expectantly and so he walked over, sitting down on the couch beside you. You grabbed a slice of pizza and offered it to him. He found himself smiling as he took it from your hands.

“M’really sorry, I didn’t-” But before Frank could get any further you put your hand up to silence him. Then your gaze turned on him and he looked back at you.

“Frank, I seriously don’t wanna think about it. Just eat your pizza and shut up,” You told him as you reached out for another slice for yourself. He grunted in response and you seemed pleased with that. You shuffled back, pulling blankets over your shoulder with your free hand before you took a bite out of the pizza. Frank was sitting on one of the blankets on the sofa but you didn’t bother to say anything as you ate.

Your gaze was fixed on the TV. There was about to be an elimination from the show and although you didn’t care for many of the contestants, there was one guy that you wanted to get kicked out. He had the most infuriating personality and had treated every girl like an object since he had been introduced. He rubbed you the wrong way and so, you watched with bated breath to see if he would finally be kicked out.

And he was. Frank noticed the victorious grin on your face as he leaned over for another slice of pizza. You let him grab it as you finished your slice off. Then you shuffled on the sofa and adjusted the blankets around your shoulder again.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You broke the silence between the pair of you. The sound of the TV was the only thing that was filling the air until that.

He glanced over at you before he shook his head, letting out a grunt of disagreement. You nodded and then pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulder, “I’ve had a really stressful week at work, I’ve not been sleeping well and I thought that when I quit my job at Metro General my late nights would end. That I would be able to sleep properly again. But you and Matt changed that and I don’t mind. I usually don’t mind at all but this week, I just- I couldn’t do it. I had dragged myself out of sleep which I had barely been able to get into and then you both just bickered. And I really don’t mind helping either of you. I like helping you both but I just can’t do it right now.”

You were rambling, you knew you were rambling but you felt like Frank deserved an explanation. He was injured and you had left him to be stitched up by Matt. It felt cruel but you were also exhausted. Not even by them, just by life.

“You don’t gotta explain,” Frank said after a beat. You looked up at him, he had a sorrowful look on his face. It was almost guilty-looking and you didn’t want him to feel guilty. A soft huff escaped your lips as you ran your fingers across your face.

“No, I do because I didn’t have to blow up at you guys. I didn’t have to be so rude. I could have just left but I made a scene and it wa-” Frank cut you off before you got a chance to finish your sentence.

“Ya had every right to shout. We dragged you outta bed for somethin’ that we coulda handled on our own. You were angry and shit, I woulda said worse. You can’t bottle that shit up, you know?” He responded as he looked down at you. You let out a soft sigh, running your fingers through your hair. You didn’t know what to even say.

“I’m just so tired, Frank,” You mumbled. It had been weighing on you all week and it was the first time you had let yourself admit it. You were so exhausted. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. The tension in the room seemed to increase tenfold at the submission and Frank was silently observing you as you reached for a pizza slice, hoping to distract your exhaustion-addled mind. It was too much.

“Lie down for a bit, yeah?” He said and you looked up at him, confusion etched across your features. Almost bemused by his words.

“I’ve tried that Frank. Plus, it’s too early,” You mumbled before you took a bite of your pizza. He shook his head and closed the pizza box on the coffee table. He then reached for the TV remote and he switched it off.

“Nah, enough of this shit. We’re gonna lie down and I’ll make sure you get some goddamn sleep. alright?” There was no room to argue with him and as he stood up, looming above you, you weren’t entirely sure you had the bravery to. So, you simply nodded your head. You placed the half-eaten pizza slice into the box and then got to your feet, leaving your cocoon of blankets on the sofa so you could go to bed, “You gonna brush your teeth?” He asked. You nodded your head. Even though you had just eaten, you had to make sure that they were brushed before you went to bed and so, Frank lingered in the doorway as you brushed your teeth, “Red’s gonna give you shit when he finds out about this, sweetheart,” Frank commented off-handedly. You spat some toothpaste into the sink before you glanced over at him.

“He can smell when I last showered, I think he already knows,” You muttered before you finished brushing your teeth. You grabbed the towel and washed the toothpaste off your mouth, washing your mouth out with water before you stepped back. You were already in pyjamas so you were ready for bed.

“Yeah, that’s what he tells ya,” Frank mumbled as you headed towards your bedroom. Frank slipped his boots off at the foot of your bed and discarded his jacket on top of your dresser before he glanced over at you.

“Are you sleeping in the bed too?” You asked tentatively. Frank turned to look at you, cocking an eyebrow.

“That a problem?” He asked curiously. You shook your head and he nodded, “You been gettin’ nightmares?” His question caught you completely off-guard and you just stared at him, dumb-founded from the side of your bed. He huffed out in mild amusement, “You were an ER nurse, gives its own scars,” He shrugged. You sighed and rubbed your hands across your face.

“It’s not nightmares. It’s just not dreams either. I can just hear flatlining and feel blood and I’m running down corridors, plagued by the clean smell of the hospital. It’s sterile and I wake up and I swear I can smell it,” You mumbled, trying your best to explain the experiences. You hated calling them nightmares because nothing scary happened. It was just your feelings and memories of the place you used to love.

“You wake up scared?” He asked as he walked over to the opposite side of the bed. You nodded your head, “Then it’s a nightmare. When did your dirtbag ex break up with you?” You didn’t seem to understand how that correlated but it had been only a month ago. It coincided with the exact time you began to have issues sleeping.

“A month ago. I’ve not been a nurse for months. Why is that relevant?” You asked as you decided to pull the covers back but you didn’t get in.

“You’re sleeping alone, sweetheart. Does things to you especially when you’re not used to,” He stated blankly. It seemed to dawn on you why he knew this and you just stared at him for a moment, not sure whether to apologise or offer sympathy but he didn’t give you a chance, “Now let’s get you some sleep, hm?” You smiled thankfully and slipped under the covers. Frank slipped under them beside you and you pulled them up to your shoulder.

Then you grabbed onto the pillow, adjusting it under your head. Frank was facing you, his hands resting in front of him as yours rested under your head. He watched you adjust and get comfortable before you let out a sigh.

“I always hated sleeping alone,” You mumbled after a moment of silence, “When I was a kid, my little brother would always get nightmares and so we’d sleep in the same bed. Then, by the time he had grown out of that habit, I was old enough that I was going to high school and my parents began to - reluctantly - let my partner stay over. Then, I went to college and I basically spent every night with someone in my bed whether that was a friend or someone I was dating. I never really got used to sleeping alone, I guess.” Although Frank didn’t have the exact same feeling as you as he had slept alone plenty of times while he was on tours, he understood what you meant. After he lost Maria, he found it impossible to sleep alone. The nightmares tormented him. It got better with time but never really truly better. It’s the main reason why he pushed his body to the point of collapse. Then he didn’t have to worry about trying to fall asleep alone. It just happened because his body didn’t give him a choice. You had started to do the same.

“Just try and get some sleep tonight, yeah?” He suggested. You nodded and you let your eyes fall closed. He shifted on the bed before he let his eyes close as well. You sighed and felt your eyes forcing themselves back open. They didn’t want to stay closed and after a few more minutes of desperately trying to keep them closed, you rolled onto your back.

And you stared at the ceiling like you had for so many nights over the past few months. You were never able to sleep, when you woke up from sleep, you just stared. You had memorised every crack in the shitty ceiling and now there was nothing new to look at. You didn’t know what was wrong with you but you hated it.

“Hey,” Frank said softly. It was so quiet that you almost missed it and then you turned your head to the side to look at him, “You gotta tell me what ya need if I’m gonna help,” You knew what you needed but you weren’t about to ask Frank for it. This was already crossing the bounds of your friendship and you felt almost disrespectful even doing this but he seemed insistent. His eyes were burning into the side of your head.

“My ex used to…” You trailed off, not sure whether to say it. Frank grunted in a somewhat encouraging way as he shuffled towards you, “They used to cuddle with me when I couldn’t sleep and they’d… God I can’t ask this of you.” You cut yourself off before you could finish your sentence. Your hands pressed over your face, embarrassment flooding your face in the form of heat crawling up your neck and across your cheeks. This was too much.

“Hey, hey, listen to me,” He brought your hands away from your face and you turned to look at him, meeting his soft gaze, “I don’t give a shit if it’s embarrassing, tell me.” His words were firm and you sighed, taking a deep breath before you turned over onto your side so that you could look at him properly again.

“They’d like hold me against their chest, like my forehead against their chest and then they’d run their fingers across my arm. It just always relaxed me,” You finally admitted. Frank smiled softly, not even caring what you were asking of him. Instead, he shuffled forward on the bed and brought you towards him.

“Come ‘ere,” He mumbled. You shuffled into him and with a tentative breath, you rested your forehead against his chest. One of his hands rested under his head while the other moved to rest against the back of your arm. He drew you closer and you gave in, letting your body mold against his. His fingers slowly began to trace along the skin on the back of your arm.

A soft breath of relief escaped your lips, the familiar touch cooled your nervous system in seconds. Your eyes fell closed, tension releasing at the movements as you moved your arms around Frank. Your hand draped over his hip as you felt exhaustion return to your body after you had fought it away all day.

“Thank you,” You muttered under your breath. Your voice was slower than before, sleep ready to take you as you relaxed into his hold.

“Sleep well, sweetheart,” He mumbled against your hair as he rested against you. His touch against your skin was the last thing you remembered before the bliss of sleep took you in.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x you #frank castle fluff #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x female reader #the punisher fluff #the punisher x reader #reader-insert #matt murdock #daredevil

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ialwaysknewyouwerepunk · 4 months

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queer signalling: louis and harry living their beautiful queer lives, collected by me

since we must take note of our fellow queers when they signal that they are very much one of us, despite being closeted. since i've had a very very queer few years thanks to them, thanks to their signalling, thanks to them being brave.

(!! this list isn't exhaustive, and if i've forgotten your favorite, by all means let me know. there's always room for another edition. it's been a while since i made a compilation and felt there was a need of a new one on my blog. this one goes a few years back, since my last one dates from 2021 :'o. so yeah. here we go.)

harry in my policeman, playing a closeted queer man, based on the book that's long been one of his favorites. lauded by the director and co-stars for how well he portrayed this character, how well he understood.

harry wearing a green flower on his chest for the mp premiere, placing himself (once again) in the same line of history as oscar wilde.

louis's green flowers on his initial 28clothing jersey at the first afhf, which includes bonus roses and 28s all around

the entire late night talking mv bc!!!!!

louis's rainbow stage lights during sibwawc. he really did that. every single night.

the entire dazed magazine happening. “I’ve always tried to compartmentalise my personal life and my working life,” he explains. / “I have unlocked an ability to be myself completely, unapologetically,” he says with conviction." / “I think through my own sense of self and personal journey, I am realising that happiness isn’t this kind of end state.”

louis's gay exit songs: most notably 'ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn't've)'

harry flirting with stanley tucci

louis and his gay ass tank tops !!! we must point it out !!!!!!

all along

harry kissing a pride flag during harry's house ono in nyc

rainbow flare during the btm mv

harry being gifted a mask of his own face at munich n2, which prompted him to say that he feels like he's wearing a mask sometimes

28 in a triangle for 28clothing!!!!!!!!

kit connor soft launching 28 clothing. a young actor starring in a queer coming-of-age series, who was forced to come out after being accused of queerbaiting. he was the first one, besides louis, to wear 28clothing

harry's grammy's speech "people like me" (which ppl sadly misunderstood), echoing what he's been saying on tour for years. this doesn't happen to people like him. if they only knew, right?

harry's freddie-inspired outfit for the grammy carpet (which also brought back his theme for clown/jester fits, like harryween 2021 n2. wonder why)

louis's merch graphic where a boy is trying to smash a glass ceiling

harry posing for david hockney, actual living legend, gay artist of the ages. "Styles seems to know how lucky he is, adding, with a tinge of disbelief: “I’m in awe of the man with enough one-liners for a lifetime.” As to what those one-liners might be? Styles and Hockney’s mutual silence on that question suggests that what happens in the studio, stays in the studio."

louis having suspicious visuals during back to you, the only visuals of that type on tour

harry's 2022 harryween outfit: dressed as danny (literally. he did that. he went grease on us.) but wearing sandy's jacket

louis at barricade aka held safely in the arms of strong security personnel

harry singing man, i feel like a woman and still the one with shania twain. while wearing a rainbow discoball jumpsuit (parallel with kacey musgraves wearing a rainbow dress to sing it with him years ago.)

louis's gay ass merch for the away from home festival

harry dressed in nina ricci by harris reed, an explicitly gender-fluid line. "At 18 I found myself living in london creating ruffle blouses, corsets, fabric flowers and flares from my kitchen floor (...). My creations at the time were met with nothing but criticism for being “too feminine” or “costume”, teachers said I should focus on “menswear” or “womenswear”. l remember it really wasn’t until I started dressing for myself and who I was that it all clicked. @harrystyles was my first ever client who embraced the fun, fluid and expressive clothing I was creating."

continuous bluegreening. to name a few: harry's werchter fit, all this time lights, satellite caps in two colors only, louis's smiley flickering bluegreen on tour in 2022, the james cordon shit, louis in uncasville. enjoy this post here

harry's snl shoot unseens: him as ariel

louis out in amsterdam at a gay bar

harry going to the women's only swimming pond (on a day it was open for men, but this is important to me okay)

harry's use of orchids in his visuals during 'she' during love on tour '23

the 'hairy mermaid' tour visuals

harry as a mermaid during the mfasr mv. as a supreme physical manifestation of harry as the mermaid he truly is inside. but in his true form he gets chopped up and consumed. literally

as it was mv and its parallels with the matrix, hints to harry as the woman with the red dress.

louis jumping up on barricade against the one spot where a pride flag was draped over it

oh yeah that exact same thing happened in 2022 too

harry forming a skirt with a pride flag in brasil after his pants ripped

that gay ass denim getup with the fur collar?? while wearing the fucking peace ring????

harry and phoebe breaking gender norms in the tpwk mv dance. no i'm not over it yet shut up

louis wearing a basquiat t-shirt, another famously queer artist joining the ranks

harry bought an actual genuine basquiat. flex

harry dressed in skirts for gucci

"happy pride! happy pride! 'tis the season! can you tell i'm relaxed?"

"isn't all of this sparkly bi music?"

satellite mv rainbow planet tshirt

louis's bigger than me promo where he's literally george michael like??? IM SORRY???????

harry kissing lewis capaldi at the brits

harry kissing nick kroll at the dwd premiere. lol

and... harry as friend of D O R O T H Y. sang over the rainbow. we all cried. especially me at this clip of harry glancing in relief at his band after over the rainbow.

#queer signalling #my posts #long post #anyways............. hmu if you have more bc i know there's more that i've forgotten but i didn't want to wait #but these were my personal highlights #this is for me more than anyone i know. i don't really know if anyone's really waiting on this #but i personally have been feeling like i gloss over a lot #and forget a lot #and minimise a lot for fear of making a big thing out of something small #but... then i make big things into something small.#which i hate #going through my archive just shows how fast an event passes by and i just stopped talking about it #ive complained about this many a time i know #anygays #for whoever wants to come scream with me <3 #also i have left out some events that were too easily deniable and i didn't want to clutter the post #since what's actual tangibly real and straight from them is so insane already #also that gif is how i feel rn.#how i often feel tbh #i want to be braver again

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jen-with-a-pen · 1 month

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ALL TIED UP - FIVE

Previous ⊹ Series

summary: Steve's night is made when his barista ends up sharing a class with him. But Steve's paranoia gets the best of him– can he really trust his gut?

pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

word count: 2.66k

warnings: flirting, fluff, hand holding, closeness, steve is adorable when he's nervous, paranoia, unease, cursing, barista lore™

a/n: had fun writing this one as we build up to friday! i might be switching the days/chapters around in the next few, but we'll see. depends on the depravity of my brain 😈

gif by @paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Last Thursday.

Learning how to draw, when he already knows how to draw, makes Steve feel bad at drawing.

Sitting in the lecture hall of the art school, he doodles over the half-assed notes he manages to take during the first thirty minutes of class. Usually, he loves Drawing 101; it’s his easiest, only late-night class each week and one of the only times he can relax without worrying about one of the brothers barging in with another stupid homework question. Usually, it's just him, his earbuds turned up a touch too high, and whatever subjects the instructor places in front of him. On Thursday nights, nothing stands between him, an easel, and two straight hours of sketching pots and people.

Except when a said-Thursday night happens to fall on ‘mandatory lecture’ day.

It hasn’t been an hour when Steve gives up trying to force himself to focus, instead choosing to mindlessly doodle over and around the page. The Drawing 101 guest professor continues to drone on about different types of graphite in the pencils kits Steve and twenty-odd other kids in the course were forced to buy. Steve doesn’t understand– nor does he particularly give a shit– as to why a 3H pencil is better over a 3B pencil, or how using an 8B pencil isn’t preferred over a 7B pencil.

A pencil is a fucking pencil.

Steve sighs, failing to stifle a yawn. No amount of coffee– not even the triple espresso concoction his barista had him try earlier that day– could save him from falling asleep in this godforsaken, decades-old room with dimmed lights and sporadically-filled seats scattered amongst the vast sea of empty ones. Honestly, nobody ever came to monthly lectures, save for when their usual professor mentioned the material would be part of their written midterms. Guest lecturers result in a lesser turnout, too, and Steve partially wishes he’d chosen to spend it back at the café or in the library. As the professor continues on to the next type of pencil, the double doors at the back of the room creak open. Still dazed in a bored stupor, Steve cranes his neck over his shoulder to see which unlucky bastard is almost an hour late to the snoozefest.

He immediately wakes up, shooting up in his seat as if a bucket of ice water were splashed on him. He can’t believe what he sees: it’s her. Her. His barista.

Mouth agape, he stares as she slowly closes the doors, careful not to draw too much attention to her late arrival. When nobody bothers to acknowledge her, she makes her way down the carpeted steps of the lecture hall in search of refuge in an empty seat. Her eyes dart across the aisles, desperate for just one, inconspicuous place that will draw the least attention.

As she combs the rows with a furrowed brow and bottom lip slipping adorably between her teeth, Steve realizes he’s got some sort of a chance. Eyes dart to the professor, then back to her. Steve subtly raises a hand, waving to get her attention. Locking eyes, she finally sees him. Relief and surprise replace her bitten lip with a beaming smile. Steve’s heart soars, skipping far more than several beats. He doesn’t– he can’t– take his eyes off her as she quickly shuffles through the row of seats, plopping down next to him and dropping a tote bag at her feet. She pulls out a purple notebook and pen, slouching back into her seat with a relieved sigh, knee brushing gently against Steve’s. A ghost of the sweetest-smelling perfume drifts into his nostrils and he has the urge to replace his oxygen supply with it.

Steve feels like he’s dreaming. Cloud nine, light as a feather, the whole fucking nine yards. He skims over her features in the dim light of the lecture hall– the curve of her lips as she whispers to herself, flipping through the pages of her notebook, trying to find a blank spot; her eyelashes that flick up and down as she copies down the date and class number. He trails down her neck, crossing over the gold bar necklace she wears every day, to her shoulders and arms, her hands. When his eyes drift back up to her face, she’s staring back. Heat blooms in his cheeks and nerves constrict his chest in embarrassment. She smirks, shaking her head and turning her attention to the professor’s current ramblings on B and HB pencils. Steve opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it.

What would he even say? How would he get away with trying to talk to her in the middle of the lecture? The professor would hear him, he’d get called out, everyone would see him–

She huffs, turning to another blank notebook page. Steve side-eyes her as she quietly tears the page out and scribbles something on the first line. Side-eyeing Steve, a small smile pulls at the corners of her lips as she discreetly slides the paper over to him.

hi stranger.

Steve can’t help but grin. It spills across his lips as more heat blooms, trailing up his ears and down his neck. Trying not to seem too eager, he clicks his own pen and scrawls a response. The professor’s voice fades into background noise, going through one ear and out the other. He’s a goner and so is Steve.

YOURE THE STRANGER, STRANGER

He slides the paper back to her. She scoffs a laugh, smile growing wider.

last minute class drop + switch. u know how it is.

TRUE. DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE AN ART KID

She shakes her head, quickly scribbling when Steve cocks his head, mouthing a ‘what?’

film kid. have to take art class for credit. only one available.

Steve’s surprised at her response, nodding once he thinks it over. It makes sense.

She makes sense.

It fits her. It fits the way she moves, the way she carries herself, the ease in which she comes up with witty comebacks. It’s then and there Steve really thinks about the contrast between the two of them– the way he’s perceived versus how he perceives her. He’s a frat brother, a six-foot-two guy with muscles he doesn’t know how to use yet, and a lifelong artist who doesn’t fit in– no matter how much he tries to claw and fight his way out of the hole people dig and throw him in.

If anything, he doesn’t make sense.

Brow furrowing and jaw set, Steve’s caught in the downward spiral he’s been fighting to keep at bay since coming to Richards– since he pledged his life away to Sigma Theta Beta and the never-ending identity crisis the brothers force upon him every waking moment. But, it’s with her that he feels more like himself than anywhere else in the goddamned world. It’s with her he wants to– willingly– be himself. He wants to be himself with her.

He, however, doesn’t realize the hack job he’s performing on his poor cheek tissue until a soft hand covers his, squeezing lightly. Warmth spreads like wildfire across Steve’s skin, breaking him free and bringing him back to the real world. Concern veils over his barista’s expression; her soft, searching gaze jumps between his baby blues.

‘You okay?’ she mouths, studying him, hand still on his. Her brow twitches upwards when he still doesn’t respond. Steve holds up an index finger and goes back to responding on the paper.

SORRY. LOT ON MY MIND

She nods heavily in agreement.

same. pencildick up there is putting me to sleep. how do you even do it?

Steve bites a laugh back.

DRAWING, COUNTING THE CLOCK

Before she takes it back Steve adds,

AND NOW YOU.

Her smile is bright enough to light up the darkened lecture hall.

Two whole pages are filled by the time class lets out. Front and back.

Steve allows his barista to take the lead in following other students out of the lecture hall. Buzzing conversations reveal a shared eagerness to get the hell out of there and go spend the rest of their Thursday night doing something else more worthy of their precious time. Steve slings his bag over his shoulder as he follows close behind, verbally continuing their written conversation about her shift from earlier in the day and swapping ridiculous ways on how they’ll manage to work every type of pencil into their midterm.

As he plods next to her, Steve fights an innate urge to place a light hand on her lower back to guide her out on their way to the parking lot. Instead, he gets the door, jokingly half-bowing with an outstretched arm to the second set of double doors. Continuing out of the building, Steve takes a breath, deciding now is the perfect time to ask if she’s busy tonight. Instead, though, she stops abruptly. Steve runs directly into her, arms jutting out instinctively to steady both of them out of sheer instinct. Grabbing her shoulders, she spins around to face him, closer to his chest than either realized.

Steve feels his ears turn red again. She looks up at him, blinking before taking a step back, lips parting slightly. An awkward beat hangs in the air before Steve clears his throat and rubs his neck.

"You, uh,” he swallows, preparing himself for the inevitable, “You maybe wanna go grab a bite t’eat, or somethin’?"

Her eyes widen, lips twitching at the corners. She looks like she’s about to answer before quickly realizing something, as if internally scolding herself for even looking excited. Pressing her lips together, her eyes dart back to her phone.

"Shit, I–" she quickly types a response and shoves it back in her pocket, exhaling in frustration.

"What is it?"

"I would love to, Steve. I really would, but," she closes her eyes and sighs, "I can't. My sisters need me back at the house. They said it’s an ‘emergency.’" She adds sarcastic air quotes, rolling her eyes.

"Oh!” Relief fills Steve’s chest, thankful she’s not purposefully blowing him off with some shitty excuse. “Okay, no yeah, I–I totally get it, family can be-"

She smiles softly, shaking her head and taking his hand to run a thumb over his knuckles. The gesture is so casual, so soft, yet it sends goosebumps up Steve’s arm.

"Oh, no. No, they're not my actual sisters. They're, um, my sorority sisters." She flinches as 'sorority' leaves her lips.

Steve blanches, swallowing a disbelieving laugh. He can't help the lopsided smile spreading across his face. He can’t help taking both her hands in his and holding them in excitement. The odds of it– all of it– all the things, of all the people, she’s the one to make him feel less alone. She’s the one that understands everything.

He tries, and fails, to contain his excitement.

"No, I– I completely get it. My frat brothers are insufferable and I'm the newest pledge, so–"

It’s her turn to blanche. "You? You’re a new pledge, too?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I’m required by my scholarship–"

"Oh thank God it's not just me!"

"There's one for sisters, too?" Steve gawks. He’s truly in shock at the audacity of Richards to make any student required to endure the circle of Hell that is Greek life. He squeezes her hands. She matches him.

"Of course there is, meathead,” she snorts. “Title nine, or whatever the hell."

Steve nods. "I can’t tell you how glad I am not to be alone in this. It's fucked up, but maybe not as much now that I know you're in the same boat as me."

He pulls her ever-so-slightly closer. She lets him.

"Guess that makes you the Jack to my Rose."

Steve furrows his bro, cocking his head like a confused puppy.

"Oh God– Don't tell me you've never seen Titanic," she gasps, feigning offense and sending Steve off course, thinking he’s fucked up somehow.

Sarcasm isn’t his strong suit.

"I, uh– no, not that I know of. I–I mean I've heard of the Titanic, but I don't remember the– well I know there's a movie, but I–"

She laughs, full and genuine, stepping forward as her hands leave his, placing one on his shoulder. Her touch is soft, gentle, more comforting than anything he’s ever felt.

"I'll show ya some time. Don't worry."

Squeezing his bicep, her fingertips glide down to his hand, grazing his fingers for the slightest moment before slipping between them, lacing them together. Electricity shoots up Steve's arm. Without another word she leads him out of the building, walking down the sidewalk lit by the moon rising overhead and scattered street lamps illuminating the parking lot.

Steve decides then and there he’ll go wherever she takes him. Anywhere. Everywhere.

She stops at the edge of the parking lot and turns to him. "This is where I leave ya, my car’s over yonder.” She nods to a blue sedan with a Richards sticker on the back windshield sitting underneath one of the street lamps. “Plus, I’d like to save you walkin’ me to my car for another night.”

Butterflies. Steve nods. She scoffs a laugh.

“Text me, meathead. I'll see ya tomorrow?"

“Tomorrow.”

She releases his hand in slow motion and Steve hopes she’s relishing every bit of physical contact with him as he is with her. He heads to his own car parked in the darker side of the lot under the shadows of the perimeter trees and dimmer lamps, swaying languidly and ambling across the pavement in a trance. Steve makes a note to himself: watch more movies, because he sure feels like he's in one.

The trance is broken when a split second of what sounds like a scream echoes over the lot and is snuffed out just as abruptly as it started.

Steve freezes, key halfway into unlocking the driver’s side door. Ears prick up, breath held firm in his chest. Turning over his shoulder, he gasps, startled as a blue car– her car– slowly backs out from under the streetlamp and exits onto the road casually. Steve watches it disappear from view. The sound of the engine gunning it down the road leaves Steve alone in the dark, a sick uneasiness pooling in his gut.

He gets in his car, tossing his bag into the passenger seat and pulling out his phone.

You okay? Did you hear that?

Steve turns the engine over and throws the car into drive, foot hard on the brake before checking her text back.

Hear what? I’m okay! :)

The uneasiness doesn’t leave him. She doesn’t usually text like that.

“Fuck, get a grip, Steve,” he mutters to himself, resting his head against the steering wheel. He takes a second to gather himself and calm his nerves. The paranoia he’s been trained to feel thanks to his brothers, in combination with the fear of fucking everything up with his barista tonight, must be mixing together and clashing against every active nerve in his body. He’s fine. She’s fine.

She’s obviously driving right now, of course she wouldn’t fucking text how she normally does. She’s probably using voice text. Calm. Down.

Steve sends another text before tossing his phone into the passenger’s seat, the unease refusing to dissipate. He turns on the radio, turning up the song blasting from the speakers in a sorry attempt to silence his racing thoughts.

No big deal. Get home safe.

His phone stays silent the rest of the night. It stays silent as he gets home, as he throws a bowl of ramen together, as he throws himself onto his bed and flips open his laptop to watch some random brainrot he finds on Netflix.

He nods off, letting himself be taken by exhaustion as the uneaten bowl of ramen sits on his desk, growing colder, while the dim computer light and hum of dialogue pull Steve further and further into a dreamless sleep.

His phone dies silently in his hand.

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bonefall · 3 months

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Struggling to find posts u've made in the past about Stoneclaw, but I love her sm. Definitely one of my BB Blorbos

I don't think I've ever put together a particular thingie on her, she's a beloved background character who tends to show up on her own in various places. Like when I talked about sign, before making the deafness guide!

BB!Stoneclaw is a gray-and-gold tortie, and the sister of Thrushwing. They come from one of the field guides, where it's revealed the two of them were sitting their vigil on the night that ShadowClan drove WindClan out of their home. In canon, Thrushwing is the survivor, but for BB, we all just kinda liked Stoneclaw's name more than Thrushwing's, so I decided to hit him with the Woman Beam.

On the night of the WindClan Massacre, Stoneclaw and Thrushwing were sitting vigil.

Daughters of Flytail and Eagleswoop, and grandkits of Tallstar himself. They were a promising young pair.

Before they even knew what hit them, they heard Brokenstar's yowl.

A squadron burst from the shadows, sliced Thrushwing's throat open, and smashed Stoneclaw's head to the ground

ShadowClan wasn't showing mercy, survivors were incidental. Their goal was to kill as many cats as possible.

Stoneclaw was dazed for a few seconds, going limp, but when she came to she leapt right back into the fray. She watched the rest of her family fold.

Tangleburr and her squadron went right for her father, Flytail, out of revenge for Lizardstripe, mobbing him and pulling him down

Eagleswoop just had a stroke of bad luck, failed to dodge, and was killed like prey

It was a horrific night, and what was once a large family was decimated to a couple of cats. She lost auncles, both parents, and her sister in one fell swoop.

Injured and aching, Stoneclaw said nothing as WindClan escaped the scene. The other survivors took it as a sign of great honor from the young warrior; that she had upheld her vow to the bitter end, even after losing so much.

But it lasted long after that night. The vigil has never truly 'ended' in her mind, so her vow of silence hasn't either.

Unfortunately, WindClan gets rough shake after rough shake from this point on, and she barely has a chance to heal in the constant barrage of violence and aggression. Between Nightstar's invasion, TigerClan, the BloodClan battle, the destruction of the White Hart woods, the Great Journey, and the Civil War... things only really started settling down years into her life, during Po3.

During the Civil War, Stoneclaw was actually ideologically aligned with Mudclaw, but took Onestar's side. She wanted to believe that Tallstar was lied to, but... she knew her grandfather better than anyone. Once the shock wore off, she had to face the horrible truth that he made a sudden, naiive decision.

It didn't take her long to stop regretting her choice, though. Her feelings are complicated, but her line too far is Mudclaw's willingness to attack his Clanmates.

Had she taken his side, she would have gone into battle with her future mate as a target. She doesn't think about it-- dismissing that she ever could have made such a choice.

Her internal monologue is a lot more afraid, frustrated, and exhausted than other cats would guess it is. Her actions don't match her thoughts.

She's hardworking, always trying to make her Clanmates comfortable, frets over her friends and family endlessly. Pair this with WindClan's assumption that her selective mutism is a "vow of silence," and most cats see her as an "ideal warrior." Someone kits should look up to and aspire to be.

She got into a relationship with Snapstorm waaaay too quickly; but luckily, Snapstorm is a really good mate.

After everything she'd been through, Snapstorm's cheerful, easygoing attitude was soothing and attractive. Snapstorm just had to say, "Hi Stoneclaw! Mice to see you around!" and then hand her a mouse for lunch and it was all over

Snapstorm was a BloodClan trader who joined along with Brushblaze, and one of the targets of the Civil War. She's a bit flighty and doesn't always think through everything she says, and doesn't worry about much either.

Their oldest kit is Buzzardclaw, who takes after Snapstorm a lot. So far I also gave them Crouchfoot in a later litter, but I've been thinking about giving them a bunch more.

The oldest litter was definitely accidental.

But not unwelcome. They both responded to it enthusiastically, Stoneclaw because she suddenly felt like she would have a big family again, and Snapstorm because she loves kids and just wanted to be a parent one day.

As mentioned before, they got into their mateship very quickly. They made each other happy and that's the whole reason.

Unfortunately, they would start seeing the difficulties of their personalities clashing while raising kittens. Which I just find FASCINATING which is honestly kinda why I want to throw more kits at them (not to mention how small WindClan is, padding is super appreciated)

See, Stoneclaw is dealing from serious CPTSD. Her mutism is NOT a vow. She can't speak and it's frustrating to her.

At the same time, watching the very helpful tail-signals that WindClan uses to communicate across the distant moor reminds her of battle signals, like she had to deal with during the fights with TigerClan. It's triggering, and that's ALSO stressful.

She's also lost so, so much of her family within the span of a few years, and is dealing with attachment issues as a result. Especially to that first litter, which she would be terrified of losing.

This makes an individual who can't communicate, but is desperate to. She hasn't been able to work well in groups for years, and unlike a more solitary cat like Willowclaw, this is not the result of a choice.

Snapstorm, being an outsider, is the first and only cat to not treat her behavior like... well, some kind of solemn vow to be "respected."

And that means a lot to Stoneclaw. Even if she was poetic, these are complicated feelings which would be hard to describe.

And Snapstorm is a sweetheart, but, she is putting a lot of effort into this relationship. She's not really great at focusing on one thing for too long, and a bit "forgetful" in the way that details go missing for a while until they come back later.

So sometimes an important bit of info slips her mind, or she misses a social cue and makes a joke that's a bit gruesome, or the fact that Clanmew is her second language rears up and she forgets words or translates a Townmew idiom directly and it Does Not Work.

While all this is happening, especially with the early litter, Stoneclaw is being a helicopter parent. Too worried to give her kits the freedom they need to develop, and Snapstorm is both trying to be a good parent and a good mate.

I'm fond of the idea that when Buzzardkit was very little, Stoneclaw was the Mi. But as she started to realize that her fear of losing him was hurting both of them, Snapstorm started taking over as Mi.

I think their dynamic is interesting. I like the idea of each litter ending up having a different upbringing, because of the state of their parents each time. Stone's also going to be sticking around for a very long time; definitely the last survivor of the WindClan Massacre, by many years. It's nice to think she's eventually surrounded by kits and grandkits, growing up in a better world than she did, even if it's not without its problems.

She's also going to start using Pawspeak, being one of its foundational members after developing a little friendship with SkyClan's Fallowfern. It's cathartic to her, finally feeling like there's a new context for WindClan's old tail signs, being used to communicate in a language rather than just be used for battle and hunting.

Stoneclaw is one of my personal little BB blorbos that I think about a lot. It's fun having conflicts like this going on in the background.

#BB!Stoneclaw #Holding her like a potato #I Just Think She's Neat #Better Bones AU #BB!WindClan #BB!Snapstorm

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atlascripts · 9 months

Text

Warnings: smut

you're a spider person, the Hobie Brown of your world is not

You stared at your hands observing the bandages wrapped around them, you had had a rough night and had come crashing into yours and Hobie's shared apartment, soaked in rain and blood and other multiple wounds before you collapsed. When you came to you were just in his old spare shirt and bandages all over. You swallowed a lump in your throat knowing he knew your identity yet none of you addressed the issue that night, it was like the giant looming time bomb in the room.

You were now in his room as your bandages had come undone and Hobie instructed you to just sit in his bed and wait…so you waited. You put the shirt away and used the covers to cover your chest with your back exposed. Being a spider person included an added benefit of regenerative healing but some days it just wasn't helping, the pain throbbed and you closed your eyes. Hobie's tall figure came shuffling into the room holding the aid kit as he saw your exhausted expression and defeated form, and his shoulders dropped a little. He'd never seen you like this, you barely spoke. You didn't look traumatized to him, no, just very tired and in pain, and yet still seemed to be holding up a wall to not let anyone in emotionally.

Yeah, you guys were just flatmates, recent ones too, he was an underground musician hanging with the happening crowd of the underground scene and you happened to have a large network of people there, that's how you two met. It was obvious from the start that you had a crush on him but with your duties as spider woman, you didn't really have time to pursue your love life, though if you were honest your breath would get stuck in a hitch every time you were around him. And Hobie well he was one receptive fucker alright. Everyone said he had a crazy sixth sense and that his gut feeling was never wrong and he loved flirting with you ever since he figured you may have liked him. He was charming and handsome and would always say the right words to get your heart all mangled.

But the tension rose when the two of you started sharing a roof, his senses always made him look at you all suspicious as if you had a secret, and your spider senses always told you to be extra careful to not let him know and so far you had been doing a great job until today.

Hobie cleared his throat “aherm” letting his presence be known and having you snap out of your daze, he sat facing your back and started going through the aid kit, he may have helped you out before when you were passed out and he had only concern then than the now growing boner in his pants. But with you awake he was a little just a little breathless and he could tell you were too. You felt the touch of his calloused fingers over your exposed back and a shiver ran down your spine as you tried not to look worked up, he was so close to you, you thought. His hands worked with ease to undo the stained bandages and for a moment your thoughts of being so exposed were broken by the blood stains you saw and looked a little worried. You were brought back to reality when you heard Hobie break the silence, “Huh?....it's already healing.” Your brows furrowed as you stared at your hands again at that statement and Hobie looked over your shoulder into the mirror in front seeing your expressions. 'There was more to the secret' he thought as his hands traced every scar he had bandaged seeing the smaller ones already healed and the bigger ones looking better already except he heard it, the way your breath got stuck in your throat with every graze of his finger. His hands would gently trace your skin, over the pattern of a scar on your shoulder blade and you felt his breath over the skin. The tension in the air could be cut with a scissor and cut he did when you felt his plush lips against your skin, the cool of the metal ring around it a contrast to the heat of your own burning skin. You gasped closing your eyes from the sensation of it, so soothing and comforting, and he took it as a cue to plant more gentle kisses across your back, slow and dragged over every scar he saw. The kisses lingered and your breathing got hot and heavy, he could tell. His hands traced the length of your arms before wrapping around you and pulling you closer. His fingers found their way to your bare chest playing with your sensitive buds. At this point, you threw your head back over his shoulder as weak little whimpers escaped your lips and his groping became a little intense making the arousal pool between your legs, all the while he hadn't stopped littering your skin with his kisses. His black chipped nail dragged over your thighs under the covers slowly trying to reach the spot where you wanted him to touch you the most.

'BZZZZZ' the buzzer bell rang jolting you out of your lust-hazed stupor and Hobie groaned in utter annoyance and got on his feet immediately taking long strides to pad out of the room to see who it could be. In those few minutes, you caught your breath, rubbing your neck and asking yourself 'what am I doing?' You looked up as he walked back in and he was shirtless now with his denims undone, “They won't disturb us again,” and he gave you a flirty smile as you averted your eyes the shyness immediately taking over. Noticing this he sauntered up to you and held your chin in his hands to have you look up at him. And he leaned down to kiss you a dizzyingly slow kiss, and you held his hand that was holding your face as your lips moved against his with such neediness that when he parted he saw the sigh leave your lips and it only made him grin mischievously seeing you so worked up for him. Stepping back he walked over to his bedside drawer to check if he had a pack of protection with him and he picked one out keeping it on the side table before settling down in bed. "C'mere luv" his voice was deeper but tender at the same time, it was commanding in its low tone and you found yourself crawling to him still hungry for the burning desire and he let you straddle him as you wasted no time in cupping his face and crashing your lips to his. He held you in place in his lap grinding against your wet cunt, he'd leave kitten licks over your lips and nibble at them to let him in.

With just the tension alone that had accumulated ever since you two were flatmates, had led you two to wordlessly just fuck with every passionate fibre of your being, not even bothering to address the obvious elephant in the room and why should you when he was pounding you into the mattress so good, just as you had wanted ever since he touched you with the initial intention to bandage you. His grunts and groans reverberated and made you feel the coil in your stomach begin to form for the third time that night. His metal-ringed hand held both of your wrists over your head and he used his other hand to dent crescent moons into your skin with how fiercely he held you in place that you were sure he'd sear marks in them. Your ankles dangled over his shoulder and he fucked in and out of you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping could be heard in the room mixed with the scent of sex and petrichor because of the rain storm outside. The thunder had been particularly loud and it only seemed to add effect to the fervor in which Hobie snapped his hips against yours. Your eyes welled with tears as you felt the oncoming wave and mewled his name pathetically.

“HOBIEEE!”

He deliberately slowed down his thursts into slow and deep ones letting go of your wrists to make you face him, he wanted the eye contact, the intimacy of it as he sloppily kissed you and you whined. Your eyes saw where the two of you connected and another lewd moan escaped you as you threw your head back and clutched onto the sheets on the sides. “Like what you see babe?” He teased picking up his pace again, your bodies rocking with every fast thrust. He lets your legs fall off his shoulder and you wrap them around him wanting him closer than ever, your now free hands clinging to his back trying hard not to claw him but lord knows your strength as a spider person gave in dragging streaks down his back and he winced and moaned at the feeling, clearly this sheit turned him on. His arms rested on the side of your face budding foreheads stealing kisses as his pace got faster and so did your vocal pleas. “G'nna cum for me again luv?” his deep voice added to the intensity that was building between you two, “ah sheit..babe 'm close,” he muttered and you held his face up to kiss him again and again and again, till until your hearts desire. You broke the kiss with a loud whine feeling your orgasm peak, making you shudder with an intensity you never felt before. Your muscles spasmed and your liquids coated his length as he watched your fucked out face while he kept thrusting to reach his climax. Your eyes were hooded but you held his face to give softer pecks to him encouraging him to finish up as he shot his load but stayed in you rocking back and forth slowly riding the high. The thunder kept roaring though as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer in an embrace, hands rubbing circles at the back of his neck. Both of you share the silent contentment against the patter of the rain on the window.

mood song: harvest moon ft. kevin brauer by blazy

#hobie brown #spider punk #anarchic spider man #spiderman across the spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #mood song #punkgulaab

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apocalypse-shuffle · 7 months

Text

DICK GRAYSON | NIGHTWING (young justice animated)

────────────────────

“Intruder Alert” (Dick Grayson x Gn!Reader)

| Dick sneaks into your apartment after a rough night and the two of you end up scaring each other.

| SFW, false scare, reader has a panic attack, wound care

| Not canon complaint. (pic source: Young Justice animated series)

| 600+ words

When you walk into your apartment you allow yourself exactly two seconds of unease before inching your way right back out.

You might not be Bat levels of paranoid but you still hung around them enough to have picked up on a few things, however subconsciously.

Like the faint sound fabric makes when rubbed against and to stop and listen before you enter a room for breathing.

You feel kind of stupid not bothering to close the door. You’d already given yourself away with your key in the lock though, there was no need to do any more damage and let the possible intruder know that you were onto them so quickly.

You’ve carried yourself in a near daze down two flights of stairs before you remember you’re supposed to be calling someone. For a second something in you seizes up with the sting of humiliation as you tap on the saved name in your contacts, but you shove it off. You’d rather this be a false alarm and look a little foolish than you ignore what you picked up on and end up dead.

As you make your way to the lobby one step after the other the stairs that when you first started we’re perfectly clear are now blurry. Clearly the person hadn’t attacked you the moment the door opened so it wasn’t a rushed hit. So what the hell did you do to earn a calculated hit, one that wouldn’t happen until the door was closed and you felt safe?

You wipe at your eyes in an attempt to get rid of the blurriness but it doesn’t work. Jesus what the hell was going on?

Dick picks up on the fourth ring.

“Hey,” he says, voice tight. “I was just about to call you. What a coincidence.”

The way he says it doesn’t make it sound like a fun coincidence. You feel decidedly not fun right now though as you’re forced to stop when your legs buckle under you. You have to lean against the railing to stay on your feet.

Were you drugged? Did you release some type of gas into your system when you opened your door?

“Y/n, hey babe can you hear me! Where are you?”

“Um- I’m in the….is this line secure?”

“Of course.”

“I’m in the stairwell of my place. Third floor I think?”

“….oh?”

“Yeah. I opened my door and something was off so I left like you told me to do.”

Another longer pause before a muffled ‘shit’ and then: “…hold on I’m coming to get you.”

Turns out Dick had simply - though you didn’t see what was simple about him breaking into your 6th floor apartment with a sword wound - been in your place before you got there. You’d thought he was an intruder, and him the same of you, and you’d both freaked yourselves out in the process.

And now he’s pretzeled beside you examining the slash on his thigh, Nightwing suit laying behind him on the back of the couch with the medical kit unearthed from under your bathroom sink.

“Way to follow your instincts back there,” he’s saying. You only hum in acknowledgment, more caught up on the slash running along his calf and the way he’s bleeding all over one of your good towels.

“Why are your calves or thighs always fucked up when you come to me?”

Dick shrugs, makes a noncommittal sound. “I lead with my legs.”

“Mhm,” you cut him a look. “I like the way you almost gave me a panic attack by the way.”

He looks up at you then, blue eyes flashing with no small amount of embarrassment.

“I did not do that on purpose!”

NOTES: Short and to the point, Hope you enjoyed!!

I had to post something before the month ended so ta-da! This was really just me playing around with writing Dick on his own (more so with his YJ animated characterization) than anything.

btw: this is quite a short story, I know, but you can still write a lil comment if you want to.

#dick grayson #nightwing #black!reader #black y/n #dick grayson x black!reader #nightwing x black!reader #dick grayson x black!gn!reader #it’s actually 614 words but spare me #dick grayson x black reader #nightwing x black reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x gn!reader #nightwing imagine #dick grayson fluff #gn!reader #black gn reader #dick grayson x gender neutral reader

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hopelessdelusional · 11 months

Text

Literally got a dream after i read this prompt, went insane, and then basically wrote a whole book

so it’s safe to say im obsessed

word count: 4K

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Bakugou Katsuki is a hero.

He is a Pro Hero, number 2 to be in fact (damn Deku). He has made a living fighting battles and saving lives, jumping off roofs and flying in the sky. He is a real life super hero, putting his life in danger. Every morning he wakes up has to prepare himself for the things he may see that day. The blood he might shed, and the people he may not be able to save. He has learned to be fearless, never finding himself nervous when jumping into the fight.

And yet, he’s never felt more terrified right now.

He met you three years ago, after quite literally crashing right into the very studio you record your music. He was battling a woman who had the ability to make and control giant vines, and apparently are explosive-proof. Todoroki almost hit him with a blast of his shitty ice, making him turn to his so called “partner” and cuss him out. However, that gave the villain the chance to grab him, and send him flying.

Bakugou soon found himself miles away from the fight, as he had to use his quirk in order not to fall to his death. But as many know, his quirk is sporadic.

That is how he crash landed into your studio.

It hurt like hell sure, but when he opened his eyes and saw you standing over him with nothing but concern in your eyes, he instantly forgot the many injuries he gained. You were breathtaking, and not like anyone he had ever interacted with. You immediately made the terrified people in the studio help him up and you found the nearest first aid kit and fixed him up as best as you could before an ambulance came.

He was dazed, but you were so kind and made small talk. Bakugou had always been one to hate any type of small talk, but he loved every word that left your mouth. You were newly moved to Japan, some sort of opportunity came to you that you couldn’t turn down (Bakugou was severely concussed so a lot of what you said was a blur).

Bakugou does remember Mina and Kaminari mentioning you, playing your music whenever he came to either of their houses. You had such a unique voice, a bit raspy that caught the attention of millions of people. Surprisingly, also caught the attention to Bakugou, as he would play it during the rare nights when he’d be cooking alone in his kitchen. Your story telling was incredible, your lyrics were anything but bland. Making music about the bad and good exes you’ve had, your friends and family, your past, and even wrote songs about random characters your beautiful mind came up with. You always made sure to use all sorts of instruments, and the notes that you compacted into your songs never ceased to amaze Bakugou’s standards.

Now he was here, sitting on a table asking you all sorts of questions about you. Maybe it was the concussion, or maybe it was just your personality but Bakugou began to get addicted to you, never wanting you to stop talking.

“Here.”

You turned away from him, your hand leaving his knee instantly making him already miss the warmth of you as you shuffled through your bag.

He watched you with curiosity (and took the chance to shamelessly check out your ass) before you turned around with a newfound grin on your face. You were holding a pen, and he cocked an eyebrow at you, not understanding the excitement of this pen in your perfect hand. You walked back over to him, your perfume becoming addicting to him, and you gently grabbed his hand. You were making intense eye contact with him, and Bakugou suddenly felt…nervous? You smiled at the blush that rose on the hero’s face, before you clicked the pen and began to write something on his wrist.

Bakugou watched, feeling somewhat like a child, and once you finished and allowed him to look. He was pleasantly surprised to see your number on his arm.

His head instantly shot up, almost not believing this was happening.

“If I text this and it’s a scam, I’m gonna hunt you down.”

His gruff voice didn’t match the face he was making at you, and you threw your head back and laughed.

Once you caught your breath, you smiled at him, making him blush even more (he didn’t even know that was possible!).

“As fun as that would be, I promise that is in fact my home number. I would never trick my favorite pro hero like that.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw two paramedics walking through the door, ready to help him out of there. However, he chose to ignore them and smirk at you instead.

“Favorite eh?”

You giggled, still holding his hand.

“Don’t get too cocky mister, or else I’ll write a mean song about you.”

His grin widened, using his other hand to lead your hand to his lips. He gently kissed it, hating how chapped his lips were, but the blush that quickly appeared on your cute cheeks made it worth it.

“I’d rather the song have another meaning.”

The two of you held eye contact, and he soaked up every second of it not ever wanting to forget what color you eyes were.

You smiled at him before you turned to the paramedics that began to replace your presence. They helped him up, and walked him over to the bed that was rolled in by another paramedic. Once he was comfortable (as comfortable as someone with many broken ribs and a concussion could be) he looked back up at you. Bakugou was annoyed to see one of the paramedics talking nervously to you, asking for an autograph. However, the jealously slowly turned into admiration as he watched you beam at the man as you excitedly signed the crinkled piece of paper he had in his pocket.

“My daughter just adores your music, she started learning guitar because of you actually! It’s truly incredible watching her play, just makes me so proud of her.”

Your lip was pouted, as you stood listening to his words. You looked so genuine, so happy that he was telling you this. Bakugou could tell this means the world to you, watching you enthusiastically hugged him. The two of you quickly made your goodbyes, and you immediately turned to look his way. Bakugou would have been embarrassed that he was caught looking at you if you hadn’t beamed at him like that. You jogged over to him, making him chuckle how eager you were to be back in his presence. Bakugou instantly grabbed your empty hand again, not a single ounce of shame for how “down bad” he was acting.

“Talk to you later?”

Your voice couldn’t have been any louder than a whisper, making sure he knew these were words only for him to hear. Bakugou grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Of course.”

Instead of one of your flashing smiles, your whole face softened and a small smile appeared on your face.

“In the meantime then, I’ll definitely be writing a song.”

That’s when Bakugou realized there was no coming back from you. He was officially obsessed, never wanting anything more than your hand in his.

Unfortunately for him, the two of you were rudely interrupted by the dumbass that got him here in the first place (not that Bakugou is complaining). Todoroki loudly coughed, making you jump and him scowl.

“I see you’re in good-“ his heterochromia eyes looked down at Bakugou and your interlocked hands, and then looked back up at Bakugou with a smirk.

“Good hands?”

Yeah, Bakugou definitely got teased for the rest of the day, and soon the rest of the week by all the people half-and-half told. But honestly? Bakugou couldn’t give two shits when had you texting him all day.

Besides, they were just jealous.

Kaminari and Mina especially lost their shit, begging for him to tell them all about you, even asking for your number. Obviously, Bakugou kindly told them to stop asking (he told them to fuck off and mind their fucking business) and soon enough the two of you began dating.

It was so easy being with someone like you. The two of you worked so well together, and you already understood the pressure of paparazzi constantly swarming you like hawks. Crazily enough, the reveal of you guys dating didn’t release until after your one year. Of course there were plenty of news articles and random fans on the internet who speculated it, but you interacted with enough people for your fans to also say you were dating them as well. Besides, the idea of you, an international singer/songwriter dating the number two hero in the world was not something that people could believe easily. But it was the truth, and people everywhere went crazy when you posted a picture of the two of you.

It was the picture of Bakugou picking you up by the waist in his kitchen. You were wearing his shirt and some random sweats because you had just gotten home from a concert the night before. Ochako was the one able to capture this beautiful moment of the couple. You had been teasing him for being able to cook but not bake, and he had enough of your jokes and simply picked you right off your feet. In the picture the both of you were smiling widely, especially Bakugou. When you posted the picture, fans analyzed the picture like crazy.

Bakugou knew he wasn’t the most well liked Pro-Hero, but the amount of people who tried to make a video showing the picture and claiming it was “obvious” that he was abusing you was a little annoying. You always reassured the blond when you caught him watching those videos, turning off his phone and climbing in his lap. His hands happily making his way on your waist as you ran your fingers through his hair while the other hand held his face gently. His eyes would close and you would whisper sweet nothings in his ear, praising him for anything and everything, sometimes even singing the songs you wrote for him.

Bakugou still remembers when the two of you were almost a year into the relationship (ten months and 6 days to be exact) and in the mist of him casually scrolling on TikTok a video of you performing at your concert popped up. He was certainly surprised to see videos already posted, since the concert had quite literally just ended. Obviously he watched the video, adoring how you talked to your fans.

“Now children, calm down so I can talk. I am not gonna talk over your borderline screaming, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna be able to sing after this if I talk like that.”

Bakugou snickered. He always loved when you were sassy and continued to watch.

“So whilst on tour, I’ve had a song stuck in my head,” the crowd went wild, probably thinking you were going to play one of your songs called “stuck in my head.” Your face lit up in realization, and you laughed at the mistake you made.

“Oh my poor babies, I’m so sorry but I am not playing that song.”

You gave your crowd an apologetic smile as they booed you. Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, upset as to why you were being booed, but continued to watch nonetheless.

“Oh my gosh get over yourself,” you rolled your eye waiting for the crowd to settle down before starting up again.

“I had like, this chorus just repeating itself over and over again. It was so annoying y’all! I felt like I was going crazy! And what made it even more annoying is that I couldn’t go to my safe place and sit down and write it cus-“

You gestured to your surroundings.

“-I’m on tour.”

The crowd went wild for longer than Bakugou liked, but you let them get it out, shaking your head like you were disappointed but the smile gave you away.

“Instead I had to settle with my oh so very empty tour bus bed, and write the song there. It was literally like, what? 3AM? And I was sitting on that bed with my guitar, notebook, and my laptop. I’m so glad I wasn’t sharing or like in a hotel because I was up until 5…”

You bent over to laugh, and the audience as well. Meanwhile, your now very grumpy boyfriend was about to close the app and text you not to do shit like that. You put on full fledge concerts for crying out loud! You should not be staying up that late just to write a goddamn song.

“And that was last night.”

The concert booed as Bakugou’s patience started to thin. What the hell were you thinking? You even texted him goodnight at like 2! Rest is very important and you need to-

“But I’m glad that I did, because I think this is my new favorite song. And I just can’t wait anymore, so is it okay if I play it for you guys?”

The crowd literally went feral. The person recording was screaming along with every goddamn person at that place. Bakugou was now fully sitting up in his bed, eager to listen to this song. He was a little hurt, he will admit. You always send him a video of the many songs that you write sporadically on this tour, and you’ve written a lot. So why didn’t you do the same thing here? What was so different about this song that he couldn’t be the first to hear it like usual?

“That sounds like a yes,” you reached for one of the many necklaces you were wearing and pulled out a very thin necklace with a familiar pendant. Bakugou immediately recognized it, as it was the one he got for you on your six month anniversary. It was one of the petals of a rose that you saved from your first date. He had it dried and put into a charm of a necklace when he noticed you getting upset that you couldn’t keep the flowers he got you. When he gave it to you, tears were falling down your face as he kissed you. That’s when he swore to himself that if he met any of your exes he wouldn’t leave without giving them a brand new scar.

You pulled it out and kissed it gently, before whispering into it.

“This is for you baby.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened, the crowd losing their minds and you started playing guitar. The two of you would make the smallest hints that you were in a relationship, but never as bold as this. Not that he was complaining.

Secretly he had been wanting to let the public know that you were dating, he wanted everyone to know you were his and he was yours. He was honestly sick of seeing people “ship” him with extras and he especially hated when the same happened to you.

He’s good for my heart but he’s bad for business

Tears me apart when he grants my wishes

All of my friends think I’ve gone crazy

But they don’t know me like my baby~

Bakugou remembers that moment like it was yesterday. His face instantly blossomed a bright blush, and his lips formed a soft smile. The crowd finally settled down after the beginning and he was able to listen to the song, closing his eyes pretending like he was there in the audience. He put the phone up to his ear and laid back down, soaking up every word and every note.

He’s good

It’s bad

The best I’ve ever had

And he’s so nice

It’s sad

He ruined all my plans

And he just makes me so crazy

I know everyone sees

He’ll be the death of me

That’s how he got here, standing in a special area in your sold out venue wearing your newest merch.

And Bakugou Katsuki was terrified.

 This was the first time he had come to see your concert, because last time you toured it was when your relationship was a secret. Now, he sat nervously in his chair, his colleagues on either side of him. You had given all of them tickets, making sure they had the best seats in the house but also allowed them to not be disturbed by fans.

Bakugou was bouncing his leg, picking at his fingernails as he watched the crowd. It seemed that nobody knew they were there, everyone waiting in anticipation of your show. Your music was so diverse, everyone knew that it would contain all sorts of emotions and energies. You were the type of performer who liked to be as close to the audience as possible, you loved adding commentary to your songs during the pauses, making faces, and dancing around. You loved to have fun, and let loose. When you got the green light to plan the tour, you were practically bouncing off the walls of your now shared home. You spent three months planning it, which was a new record for you, before announcing. However, there was just one thing that Bakugou didn’t like about the tour.

He knew absolutely nothing about it. In fact, you made sure of it. Hiding your notebook, changing your laptop’s password, making sure your manager didn’t tell him shit about it. That’s why he was terrified. His partner, his very famous singer/songwriter of a soulmate was about to do the very first night of the tour in Japan and Bakugou didn’t know a thing.

That’s why Bakugou Katsuki was terrified.

Soon enough, the lights began to dim, and people started to stand up. A hush fell over the crowd as the venue blacked out, and the wrist bands on everyone’s wrists lit up.

“Holy shit it’s happening.” Kaminari whispered to Bakugou, grin spreading across his face.

Ochako, Kaminari, and Mina happily took the evening off to see you, while the rest of your invites weren’t able to. Kirishima made Bakugou promise at least one photo of the two of them after the show.

A soft hum came out of the speakers, and suddenly a spotlight appeared to reveal you standing at the very far back of the stage. The crowd went insane, and you walked down the stage.

When it came to your outfits, you always had to keep it comfortable. You loved to jump around dancing, sometimes fall to your knees dramatically. You especially loved to squat. Jumping around in that position and when you stood up you always made sure to flaunt the ass that you worked very hard on in the gym.

You came out strutting down the stage in very baggy and flowy black pants and a very cropped black long sleeve sweater that allowed you to show off the lace bra that went down to your belly button. But that wasn’t where it stopped, nor was it the best part of your outfit. To Bakugou’s surprise you were wearing boots with an obnoxiously thick heel, that were very obviously Dynamite themed.

Bakugou smirked at the sight, taking in the rest of the little details of your outfit. You wore a giant ring on your index finger that was also Dynamite inspired, as a fan gave it to you, and Bakugou could see his initials sewn into the bottom of your sweater.

You stopped at the end of the runway, pulling the microphone away from your face in a dramatic motion. You slowly looked around, taking in your crowd. A smile spread across your face, and when your gaze looked straight forward to look for Bakugou, he made sure to make little sparks from his hands to let you know he was right here. You pointed at him with the finger that had the Dynamite ring on it, and Bakugou honestly felt like it was just you and him in the stadium. You mouthed an ‘I love you’ at him, and Bakugou was now ignoring the new roar from the audience.

“You guys should get married already.” Mina whispered in Bakugou’s ear, and instead of blowing her face up, he just smiled, still looking in your direction.

“I plan on it.”

The first song you sang was one of your oldest ones, which also happened to be a much slower and sadder song. Instead of listening to the grim lyrics (not because they were bad, just because Bakugou hated to remember how bad some of your relationships were and didn’t want to get angry) the hero closed his eyes and listened to your voice. He wanted to take in his environment and all the notes you sang. The song started to drift off midway, which confused Bakugou. His eyes suddenly snapped open when he heard your newest song, which was much more upbeat. He watched you jump in the air and sing the song with much more passion than the original version. The crowd recovered quickly from the switch up and was singing along happily.

You sang a couple more of your newer and upbeat songs, making sure to add new notes to them and even belt a couple of notes to get the crowd excited. You were having so much fun, and Bakugou had never seen you look more alive. This is where you belonged, and he wanted to be right here every time watching.

There was a pause for you to sit down at the edge of the runway. You sat criss-cross, and much closer to the audience for Bakugou’s liking. He always got nervous when you reached out for a fan’s hand, scared that they would do something that could hurt you.

Thankfully, that hadn’t ever happened, and you sat very cutely waiting for the audience to quiet down so you could speak.

“Wow. We’re halfway through already? Well, I think we all know what that means…”

You cocked your head to the side, and a soft piano started to play a familiar rhythm.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between, get out your tissues. It is now time to remember why you are no longer dating your ex, and for you to be reminded that your trauma isn’t just a thing that makes you funny.”

The crowd screamed, but almost immediately stopped when you began to sing in a much softer and lower register than before. As depressing as these songs may be, Bakugou firmly believes that these types of songs bring out the best in your voice. It allows you to challenge your breath control, and truly sing with so much passion and emotion.

A couple of songs pass, and Bakugou finds you when the stage gets lit up again. You’re in the middle of the runway, standing with your head down waiting for the band to begin. As soon as the piano starts, the crowd screams and yells. This is one of your all-time most popular songs, it was the one that caught a lot of people’s attention and boosted your popularity. Funnily enough, you actually hated this song because you wrote it in high school, so Bakugou was surprised to see you preform it.

“Is this Sick of Losing Soulmates?” Ochako yelled, because of the screaming of your audience.

Bakugou turned to her and confirmed her suspicions, making Mina and Kaminari start screaming along with the audience (as they were doing the entire time).

Bakugou watched as you began to sing, and noticed how you really got into it. You added a lot more dramatic pauses before certain lines, and even speaking some of the lyrics, making it feel more like anger than sadness.

Yeah, I’m sick of losing soulmates

Won’t be alone again

I can finally see you’re as fucked up as me

So how do we begin?

At one point, you laid down on your back, reaching for the sky as you sang your heart out, and Bakugou noticed you choking up a bit at certain lyrics.

We will grow old as friends

I've promised that before, so what's one more in our grey-haired circle, waiting for the end?

Time and hearts will wear us thin

So which path will you take, 'cause we both know a break does exactly what it says on the tin

The song soon ends, and your last pose has you on your knees, head looking down at the floor. The stadium goes pitch dark, including the wrist bands, before they light up again along with your stage. Bakugou sees you wipe a tear off your cheek, and you sit there once more taking in your fans that take the chance to start chanting your name. You put your lips together, closing your eyes and putting your hands on your heart. Your eyebrows are furrowed and Bakugou can tell you’re still crying. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to go to you and hold you, wiping away your tears and replacing them with tender kisses.

You open your eyes, putting the mic back to your mouth and the audience quiets down in order to let you speak.

“Oh boy, I am so overwhelmed by emotions. I mean that was the song that started it all right?”

The crowd was still practically silent, as you’ve trained them well. You get off your knees and get into a more comfortable sitting position (criss-cross of course) and continue.

“I used to absolutely loath that song, because I wrote that when I was at my lowest. I was so sick and tired of love, having to try again over and over again. Every relationship that ended seem to break a piece of me off, and I was honestly starting to give up.”

You let out a broken chuckle, putting your free hand over your eyes momentarily before starting again.

“But then I met Katsuki, in which he literally crashed into my life.”

The crowd stayed silent, but Bakugou could tell they wanted to start screaming. You were not looking at him, and to his surprise Bakugou felt a tear run down his cheek.

“Three years of paradise. I’ve always had a fear of losing you, but it especially hits when I sing songs like that.”

There was a pause, and suddenly Bakugou felt like he was back in that studio where he met you. Staring at you and falling in love all over again.

“I love you baby, forever and always.”

Bakugou smiled, and all that fear that was with him before left. You were his and he was yours, and that’s all that he needed.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and you knew.

Bakugou Katsuki was no longer terrified.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─⋅ ⋅ ──╯

none of the songs quoted are not mine!!! the first one is “Bad for Business” by Sabrina Carpenter, and the second one is “Sick of Losing Soulmates” by dodie

i hope you enjoyed bc boy oh boy i did

literally took me 4 hours to write but i couldn’t pull myself away from the keyboard

i rlly need to start writing other characters for x readers but oh well

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou katsuki x reader #singer! reader x bakugou katsuki #sobbing #my hero academia #mha #whew #this one is a biggin #definitely got a little too into it #but oh well #i couldn’t get this out of my head so #love love love

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iamthecomet · 4 months

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The ghouls love to tease their kills, make them think they might be spared, let them escape a few times on purpose, and make them beg for their lives. All of this is great fun for them, especially when they see relief wash over a sibling's face just before they kill them. Although it's great fun to trick a sibling in to thinking they've won their safety, would they refrain from doing it to preserve the unadulterated flavor of terror? I'm sure they all have their preferences, but for those of them that love to play with their food I wonder if they ever waste a kill because they couldn't stand the flavor.

Fic idea I got while writing this: One or more ghouls are hunting a sibling. One ghoul, maybe Rain since I think the siblings underestimate how dangerous he is, hangs back and once the others have caught the sibling Rain comes and "talks them out of" killing them. Then Rain goes to comfort the sibling before killing them himself.

Not directly related to anything else in here but: I LOVE WEAPONIZED QUINTESSENCE

God I could talk about murder ghouls ALL DAY (and I have and I will). I started writing headcanons and accidentally wrote something based on the first part of this ask and not the fic idea but OH WELL. Fruits never stop sending me murder ghoul content it makes me so HAPPY. Also someday I'm going to write weaponized quintessence because HOLY FUCK it's so good (but not yet, sorryyy).

700ish words of murder ghouls. gore. violence. ghouls being predators. Ghouls eating people (well more talking about it but you get the idea) Dew being a picky eater. Cumulus being Cumulus. Murder ghouls are NOT good people but we love them anyway.

They all have their preferences. Swiss likes them horny. Boneless. On the verge of an orgasm. Loves the taste of oxytocin and dopamine on his tongue. Loves the heat of them, the pound of their pulse beneath his fangs. Rain likes them unaware. Never seeing it coming. Relaxed. Basic, unseasoned humanity. Aether and Aeon like them drunk on quintessence. The taste of their own magic in their blood. The tang of it sharp on their tongues. But Dew? he likes fear. Unadulterated. Terror. It makes them so sweet. All of those chemicals. All that cold dread pooling thick in their stomachs. Just the smell of it can set him off. So this, is less than ideal. He should have known better pairing up with Cumulus to hunt. She likes it slow--decadent. Likes to savor the way their face opens back up when they realize the monster behind them has been their beloved friend this whole time. She lives for the relief in their eyes. The way fight or flight dies and adrenaline flees and they are comfortable and home and--Dew can't stand the taste of it. The smell of it makes him grimace. He watches from the edges of the trees. In sight, out of mind now that the sibling thinks the real danger has passed. He watches Cumulus stroke a soft finger over the sibling's cheek. Their jaw. Pressing a thumb over full lips. Cumulus coos at them, like she would a kit and Dew feels his stomach churn. He's happy to help--really--but he's hungry and he's picky. He hates to admit it. Rain would dive in--no questions. Mountain too--though he prefers his prey dazed and drugged. But Dew? He can't stomach it.

He should have said no–but just like the sibling he is powerless to Cumulus when she wants something. Big eyes and a pouty lip that has him shoving his hands in his pockets and following her even though he knows he’ll end the night hungry.

Better than dead, he supposes.

“Droplet,” Cumulus says, voice a soft purr. She jerks her head toward the sibling and Dew sighs. He crosses to them, leaves crunching under his boots. Hands balled into fists in the pockets of his jacket. Ravenous and revolted all at once.

The sibling jolts when they notice him again. Eyes darting between Cumulus–trusted confidant and friend–and Dew who has never been kind to a human in his entire infernal life. There is knowledge in those eyes–primal. That this sibling knows he was chasing them. Hot on their tail. Smelling like smoke and sulfur. That if Cumulus hadn’t stepped in, he would have killed them.

She gets to play savior–it’s her favorite role. But Dew smells that little spike of fear, can taste it on the air. Unease. His stomach clenches, growls.

“Do you want to do the honors?” Cumulus turns to him fully now. One hand still cupping the siblings cheek. But her eyes on him. Looking up at him, lips parted. Dew is definitely not thinking about how they’ll taste when they’re covered in blood.

The sibling whimpers, pulls back but Cumulus digs her fingers in. The sharp scent of blood hits Dew like a freight train. Tolerable now. And he feels himself nod. Hunger outweighing pickiness momentarily.

The sibling pulls away from Cumulus fully. Wrenching away even as Cumulus digs in, claws carving for deep scratches in their cheek as they bolt. Darting through the trees. Cumulus licks their blood from her fingers.

Dew waits, allows this human a head start, just enough time for him to look at Cumulus and tilt his head, confusion.

“That’s your kill,” he says, low. She offers him two of her fingers, dragging blood over his lips. His tongue darts out to lap it up. Sweet. Laced with panic and confusion. Soon he’ll have a feast of it. “We’ll share. I’m not the picky one.”

“Lus–”

“Better hurry, before dinner gets away.” She gives him a shove in the direction the sibling went. Dew can still hear them, crashing through the woods, panting panicked breaths. Each of them bordering on a scream. “Bring them back first,” she adds. “I want to watch.”

#comet writes #murder ghouls #violence #gore #cumulus ghoulette #dewdrop ghoul #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #fruits ♥#ghost fanfiction #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #ficlet #not edited #not even read back over #so if you see something weird no you don't

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abarbaricyalp · 1 month

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Written for the @sambuckylibrary anniversary event! CW: Violence, injury, blood, MCD I don't know where this came from. Sorry. I did reblog a lot of stellar art last night if you'd rather look at that. This one is angsty y'all

The Kind You Save

Sam had said it once. I don't know if he's the kind you save. Looking back, he's not sure how much he meant it and how much he just wanted to keep Steve safe. One last ditch attempt to make the other man see reason instead of sacrifice.

Sacrifice.

It's a word that's followed him like a stray dog all his life. The things his grandparents sacrificed to begin building the life Sam got to live. The things he sacrificed to build a life they'd be proud of. His father sacrificing his own life for the possibility of peace among strangers on the street. His mother sacrificing everything to keep everyone fed and clothed and housed. The sacrifices he made to escape, to serve, to protect.

Riley, saving Sam in the middle of the night for no damn reason.

He's the kind you stop.

"Bucky, stop!" Sam shouted. But it was too late, wouldn't matter even if there'd been time. Barnes was the most stubborn asshole Sam had ever dealt with, including the other super soldier in his life.

Bucky, stop, and Bucky was swinging Sam out of the way, throwing him to the ground as he stepped forward in front of Sam. Sam could see the splash of blood from his shoulder first, then by his hip, and the edge of his neck even as he fell.

Sam scrambled over on his hands and knees, ignored the aching in his ribs that kept cutting his breath off. "Bucky," he breathed, instantly pressing his hand to the spurting wound in Bucky's neck while his other hand went to the side of Bucky's face, holding onto his jaw and cheek to keep his eyes on Sam. Bucky held onto his wrist, dazed gaze trying to settle on Sam. "Hey, just stay still, alright?" he halfway begged.

But Bucky was stubborn and he was reaching for his thigh holster, shaking Sam's hand away as Sam tried to keep him still. He raised the gun, scrunched one eye--which Sam had never seen him do--and pulled the trigger on the figure running towards them with a raised weapon. The same man who'd shot Bucky in the first place. The one who'd been aiming for Sam.

Bucky's whole body went lax at the same time that the other man dropped. The handgun fell away with a clatter. Sam put his hand to Bucky's cheek again instantly.

"Hey, hey, stay here. Stay with me," he said, patting Bucky's cheek until his eyes flickered open again. "Why'd you have to go do something like that, huh?" he asked to distract him. He hoped Bucky was distracted enough not to hear the waver in his voice.

"You're one of the good ones," Bucky wheezed out. The muscles in his neck fluttered beneath Sam's hand and he pressed more firmly on the wound, even as blood continued to ooze against his palm. "You're the one who gets saved."

Bucky's eyes closed again and Sam looked around desperately. He tried to call for Steve, who was around here somewhere but currently lost in his own fight, but his voice died in his throat, beneath the knock that was cutting off breath and blood and thought alike. The wingpack had always had space for a medical kit. Half the point of the wings was to do medical triage where vans and humvees couldn't go. He'd kept it when he'd designed his Falcon suits too. But this wasn't a regular suit. It was a stupid, useless stealth suit. It was trim and tight and left no room for excess. He didn't have his medical kit. He didn't have triage tools.

Up there just to watch.

"Buck, come on, stay with me," he said. His voice was verging on desperate. This couldn't be happening. Bucky had just come out of hiding. He wasn't even supposed to be around. He was supposed to be recovering in Wakanda. They hadn't told him about this mission.

"I'm right here," Bucky muttered and forced his eyes open.

"You've been through worse," Sam said, convincing Bucky as much as himself. "You're gonna be fine."

Bucky brought his hand up to Sam's face, leaving finger length smears of hot blood across his cheek and jaw. Sam pressed his cheek more firmly into Bucky's touch and squeezed his own eyes shut.

"Don't go," he pleaded softly. "You weren't even supposed to be here. This can't be it."

"It's a good thing I was," Bucky coughed out. Blood splashed over his face, created a river from his mouth to his ear, one drop detouring to his eye. "Else you'd be on the ground."

Riley, plummeting to the ground beside him. Riley, caught up in the explosion. Riley, in a flag draped box. And all of the thousand sad platitudes that followed. Everything happens for a reason. He'd prefer it was him and not you. It's fate. It's God. It's luck. It all happened for a reason.

"No," Sam said with a fierce shake of his head. "Not again. Not this time."

But when he went to get on his feet, to lift Bucky and carry him to any place that could help, Bucky wrapped metal fingers around his wrist and kept him down. "Just stay here with me. It's my turn now. Stay."

Sam looked around again, pleading with a the universe to throw them a damn bone just this once. For Steve to emerge from the dust and smoke. For a time machine to materialize so Sam could go back just a few minutes and shove Bucky away from him this time.

"This is so much better than I'd thought it'd go," Bucky said and drew Sam's eyes back to his pale, drawn face. He offered a weak smile, eyes going hazy for a moment before he refocused on Sam. "View's a lot better. And I always figured I'd be alone."

"You're not alone. And you're not going to die," Sam lied. Bucky's hand fell from his face, went for Sam's hand on his cheek to hold onto it tightly.

"You're one of the good ones," he repeated, coughed a glob of blood out again, and couldn't reopen his eyes that time. "Sam, you are so worth it."

"Shut up, Barnes," Sam ground out. He didn't have a free hand to pat himself down, to eke out any kind of tourniquet or padding.

"You've gotta keep Stevie outta trouble, alright? He did alright finding you. You're not such a bad replacement for me."

"I'm not your replacement. You're right here," Sam insisted and pressed his hand tighter against Bucky's neck. "It's just a graze. You're being a baby."

Bucky's smile briefly flashed before he grimaced and tried to turn onto his side. Sam kept him mostly still. "You're right. You're so much better than me. You're gonna do good things. Great things, Sammy. This was worth it. All of it's been worth it. It led me right to you, right? Even all the bad shit can't be too bad. Hey? Just...stay. Please. You don't gotta watch, but don't let go of me."

Sam nodded, roughly wiped his face on his shoulder, and then said, "Yeah," out loud because Bucky couldn't see him. "I've got you. It's gonna be okay."

That weak smile came back to Bucky's face and he slowly half opened his eyes to look at Sam again. "Yeah," he agreed. "It is."

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #sambucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatwsanniversary2024

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bleedingichorhearts · 2 months

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𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘 II

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: This one is more of an introduction, if anything.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets.

TW // Attempted Kidnapping? Violence?

“Your name is Scarab?” I managed to pronounce the Thousand sons name, his little blue, and gold helmet nodded at me. “And you are Atheloca?” I pointed to the little Death Guard, getting a nod too.

“Don’t forget your other two that have been assigned to you.” The physician sounded bored, writing something on his clipboard.

“I don’t think I could Dr. Ryker. They are the most troublesome out of all of them.” I said, turning my gaze to the other two. The little Night lord squeaking out in demand.

“Yes, I know your name Saveth.” I responded to the Night Lord. “And yours too, Sarvak.” Tilting my head to the World Eater, a quiet rumble coming out of him.

“Alright, you are set to go.” Dr. Ryker sighed, clicking his pen. “I hope you do not find any more small Astartes out there, but otherwise keep them safe. Who knows what would happen to them.”

“Understood Doctor.” I sighed, understanding the last part of his words well, remembering the day of an attempted kidnapping.

It wasn’t even a week I had them before someone tried to kidnap the little Astartes. The little warband squeaking at me in a frenzy, their litte forms waving up at me. Urging me to come back.

I only left the room for a second, wanting a little snack, but came right back by their demands to see one of Sharon’s boyfriends (or her one night stands) was trying to forcefully pick up Saveth. Who in turn, looked like he was fighting for his life. Slashing at the man’s bare hands with his talon-like gauntlets, making him bleed.

The man, out of anger. Backhanded the little Night lord away, a tiny thunk going off as he hit the wall, then the floor.

Worry crushed my heart while I rushed in, brushing past the man; who didn’t even look remotely sorry for what he had done and picked up the potentially injured Night Lord from the floor. Sharon coming into the room at the noise, and yelling at her one night stand for being “so cruel.”

Carefully moving the recovering Night Lord into a different room. I covered him with my other hand, providing a small protection around him while he used it to right himself. A tiny hiss coming out of him while I carefully looked him over.

No missing limbs. No weirdly shaped, or bent arms. No bleeding.

Saveth cooed softly at me while I searched him. Yet I ignored his attempts to soothe me. Observing him of any injuries that hit could have given him. My chest getting tighter.

I knew I shouldn't have left them with Sharon’s one night stands. They always brought off a bad vibe. Was I stupid to even think they wouldn’t do anything? Was I even a good caretaker to these little Astartes?

A cold weight on my cheek snapped me out of my racing thoughts. A tiny purring emitting from the little Night Lord. Then another, and another. Each one having their own tone, pitch, and vibration.

I don’t remember feeling the rest of the warband climbing up my clothes to join in with the… purring session, but it soothed me down more than I’d like to admit at that moment.

“As regular, come back so we can check up on them and run some tests.” Dr. Ryker reminded me. Taking me out of my daze. “And hopefully, in no time. They will be back to their regular size.”

“I’m sure they’ll love that.” I stated, putting my hand down on the counter for the mini warband to climb on. Feeling the little pin pricks digging into the fabric of my shirt while they made their way up to my collarbone. Taking their spots they personally made there.

The doctor hummed. “Also, try not to get too attached. They might not want to be with you once they grow back to their original sizes.” A certain dread dropped in my stomach.

“Grow back? So you have something in the works for them?” I asked, focusing on the Astartes health more. Ignoring the tiny sting on my neck.

“Yes, we have something in mind, but it isn’t ready yet.” He confirmed before leaving the room, mumbling something underneath his breath as he shut the door. Leaving us in an empty room once again.

“Well, at least you know you are not ultimately stuck as a small gremlin.” I spoke out loud, earning a couple of nicks, and conflicting squeaks from some of the Astartes. “Ow! I’m not retracting my statement!”

I jumped at another nick. “It’s true! You are small.”

“Ow! You know what? Come here you little-” My hand quickly went up to my neck, snatching the little Astartes who caused the most pricks. A squeak came out of him as I held him firmly in my hand. “You’re grounded.”

Saveth, the little Night Lord could only squeak back at me, and chirp to the warband to help him out to no avail. He was stuck with his consequences.

ℕ𝕖𝕩𝕥 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘 III

ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘

#warhammer 40k #space marine #space marine husbandry sentience #x reader #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #yandere?#oc: sarvak #world eater #oc: scarab #thousand sons #oc: saveth #night lord #oc: atheloca #death guard #introduction of characters

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shroomsroom · 2 years

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would you be willing to write a dallas smut? one where he comes to you late at night for you to patch him up. one that's more gentle and he's praising you? tysm!

more than happy to!

CW: nice dally!! (finally like wtf-) praise kink, probably a little graphic descriptions of blood, porn with plot but only if you squint

it's late at night and you're home alone, sipping on a beer while flicking through your uhf tv shows. you finally settled on watching gilligan's island when a loud thud came at your door. dallas has always warned you about thugs goin' around a breaking into houses, so you smashed the beer bottle onto your side table and held onto the neck tightly. slowly you approached the door, no one was knocking anymore, you assumed they left but you needed to make sure. turning the knob you creak the door open slightly. "what you so scared about doll?" its dallas. "oh you fucker, i thought you was a thug," you opened the door more and flicked on the lights. he stumbled into your house looking slightly dazed. "you've been cut to ribbons!" you exclaim when he unclenched his side. the blood had been drying around the edges but a lot was still gushing from his side. "tell me something i don't know baby," he said leaning on a counter biting his bottom lip because of the pain. you stood there for a second. "well?" you ask, he looks down at you. "well what?" "what do you want me to do?" you cross your arms. "suck my dick." he answers and pulls a cancer stick from his shirt pocket. you rolled your eyes and scanned your kitchen for some wine. you settle on a old almost empty california sherry bottle. "siddown," you command but with no real assertiveness in your voice. dallas obliges and lies face up on your couch. you pull a first aid kit from the bottom drawer of some cabinet. when you walk over to dallas he lights his cigarette and pats his lap for you to sit on. you straddle him gently, making sure that you don't disrupt his cut. pouring out some of your sherry onto his cut, he leans his head back trying not to say anything. "oh fuck that shit stings." he whispers. "well it should, you're doing a great job though." you smile down onto him. it's always a gentle atmosphere when dally isn't loud. he smiles a quick smile. "you're doing a great job too darling." he rests his hand on the back of your neck, gently drawing circles into it. you sigh softly and lean into his touch. the white bandages are tainted light red but his bleeding had stopped, you're very good at being a nurse. his hands slowly drag your face near his, breath tickling your face before he captures you in a hungry kiss. he's now sitting up you are still straddling him, his hands are roaming under your shirt while you keep them cupping his face while he knocks the wind out of your lungs over and over again. "take this off please" he points at your pjs and you oblige, slipping them off with ease, next to go is his pants. he's already half-erect, so you decide to help him by unclasping your bra and palming his dick through his boxers. "oh fuck, shit" he lifted you off of him to kick off his boxers and then line himself up at your entrance. he looked you in the eyes with such a gentle look you could mistake him for a kid. this is different from all the times you've had sex. they were always rough and fast. today was gentle. it was lovely. you lower your head to kiss him lovingly and he sinks you down onto his cock. he thrusts into you slowly but it's too slow for your clamping pussy "faster please!" you mewl grasping dally's shirt. his thrusts get faster and sloppier and the coil in your stomach tightens. suddenly a wave of euphoria crashes onto you. "fuck!" you cry, squeezing dally's dick with your cunt. he pulls out and jerks himself off onto your stomach, finish off with white ropes of cum hitting your soft skin. "good job doll, that was amazing"

#dally winston smut #shroomsroom #clara'sroom #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston smut #the outsiders x reader

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luluwquidprocrow · 2 months

Text

oh if you knew what it meant to me

albert & diane

gen

2,128 words

It’s the wrong side of midnight, and he’d planned to leave the airport, stand in the parking lot for as long as it took to smoke out the memory of Leland Palmer’s scalp from his brain, and then get a cab. But he’s dead with exhaustion after the flight (and everything else) and Diane Evans and her fucking car are the best things he’s ever seen in his life.

my fic for @tildytwo for @countdowntotwinpeaks' wonderfulxstrange 2024 exchange!! albert coming home after the end of the palmer case.

title from daydreaming by dark dark dark

He sees Diane in the parking lot, smoking under a streetlight by her blinding red Mustang. She’d told him once it was vintage, and he said that vintage wasn’t going to help her out a bit if the car didn’t crumple when some beige sedan asshole t-boned her out on the highway. No airbags at all. He’s unsure about the seatbelts. The trunk is barely going to fit his suitcases, he knows, alongside the hideously pink tool kit he’s sure is still in there. It’s the wrong side of midnight, and he’d planned to leave the airport, stand in the parking lot for as long as it took to smoke out the memory of Leland Palmer’s scalp from his brain, and then get a cab. But he’s dead with exhaustion after the flight (and everything else) and Diane Evans and her fucking car are the best things he’s ever seen in his life.

Diane startles when he gets close, her cigarette smoldering between her fingers. “You look terrible,” she says, as if it’s a revelation.

“I didn’t ask for the opinion of the local peanut gallery,” Albert says.

“You’re getting it anyway,” Diane says. “Sure you weren’t the one that took three bullets to the chest, Albert?”

“Oh, very funny, madam secretary.” Does he really look that bad, he wonders. He feels that bad, like he’s dragging himself six steps behind where his body really is. Three trips in two weeks to the Mayberry R.F.D. death trap in Washington state will do that to you. Or at least it should. Dale Cooper and all his charms aside, Albert had no plans to stay for a placatory funeral in a town that was getting a track record.

Were they giving that girl a funeral too. Or were they only having one for the father of the year. Albert scrapes around in his brain for her name—she deserves that much. Madeline. What about Madeline Ferguson, her blood still stuck on Albert’s hands. His fingers flex around the handle of one of his suitcases. Coop had said she was from out of town. Did her parents come back for her? Or was she getting buried there too, in the same yawning grave Coop was staying behind in? The thought burrows inside his stomach, another knot of background concern adding to the rest of them. In a few years, if not already, he’ll have a nice shiny ulcer to show for all the nonsense the bureau’s put him through. Fuck, he is too tired for this.

Diane takes advantage of his dazed stupor and gets his suitcases away from him. Albert was right, the toolbox is still in the trunk and still pink; his suitcases barely fit but Diane works the same feat of magic she does on everything else and gets the trunk to close before pushing him into the passenger seat. Miracle of miracles, it does have seatbelts.

He twists the radio dial back and forth until Diane gets in and smacks his hand away. She puts on a top 40s station, because her compassion is obviously limited, and reverses neatly out of the parking lot and navigates through the maze of airport traffic onto the highway. Albert keeps an eye out for sedans as a matter of principle. They’re the sort of car that creeps up on you this time of night, even with Philadelphia still alive around them, pricks of light burning like match heads.

“Oh!” Diane twists an arm behind her around to the backseat, digging for something with a reckless abandon that has the Mustang veering sharply over the road.

“Jesus, Diane, the road—”

“Keep your shirt on, Rosenfield,” Diane laughs. She shoves a thermos into Albert’s chest and then gets both hands back on the wheel. “There. I brought you coffee.”

“At what cost,” Albert mutters, but he unscrews the cup and the lid. The fact of the matter is that Diane makes coffee to die for, and he could use the warmth.

“You’re welcome.”

Then she’s silent for a whole verse and chorus of twangy guitars as someone sings about standing, and Albert knows it’s coming. He downs a gulp of coffee like a shot and his jaw starts to tighten up.

“He didn’t come with you,” Diane says.

“What gave it away,” Albert asks, “the lack of chipper humming in the overall ambience or the fact that I got your coffee?”

“I did make it for you, dipshit,” Diane insists. “I listen in on Gordon’s calls, I knew he wasn’t coming, and I thought you could use it. I just—” She takes a quick drag of the cigarette still tucked between her fingers. When she exhales, the smoke chases itself in circles. “—it didn’t sound good, why you went there again. And I thought, maybe he might’ve come back with you anyway.”

“No such luck,” Albert says. “He wanted to stay for the funeral.”

The corner of Diane’s mouth pinches in. She doesn’t say it, but both of them are thinking it. They’re intimately acquainted with Coop’s—Albert has spent a long time trying to figure out how to put it. He takes another drink. It’s not sentimentality, per se. Attachment isn’t quite right either, although it wouldn’t be wrong. It’s a show of commitment, of a deep-seated determination that sits somewhere in Coop’s marrow. An unending desire to be the one that helps.

Albert can’t begrudge him the idea, not all the way. You were supposed to feel something, otherwise you were in the wrong line of work if you did this without it being able to knock the breath out of you on occasion. But Albert has a different idea of what it means to respect a case and the people involved. And it hasn’t almost gotten Albert killed. Punched, sure, but like he said, he can take a punch and he’ll take one again if it means he can try and do his goddamn job like he’s supposed to.

He wants to say, well, Coop will be back soon enough. Funerals don’t take forever. Coop has never known where to draw the line but even he has to admit one exists, even in a town like Twin Peaks. But fuck, Albert had encouraged him. Just catch this beast before he takes another bite. And Harry had asked later—Where’s Bob now?

Albert lets his head hit back against the seat, the taste of the coffee sour in his mouth, the ache of a migraine starting behind his eyes. Blue roses never sat easy, but this—he’s been awake too long as it is.

“He’s impossible, isn’t he,” Diane says quietly.

“That’s one of the words for it, I guess,” Albert says.

The two of them share a glance—Diane makes it blessedly quick and puts her eyes back on the road where they belong. Yeah, they both know about that, too. They have their own attachments. They wouldn’t be in this car if they didn’t.

Diane drums her fingers on the steering wheel. “Are you hungry?”

“I had lunch.” Or something like it, probably a million years ago. He had the least offensive donut he could find in Harry’s office, which was an overly glazed monstrosity. It stuck on the way down.

“Uh-huh,” Diane says. Her tone is not encouraging. “And?”

“And nothing. I had lunch, Diane, I’m fine.”

“And, that was what, at noon? We’re getting something.”

“Diane—”

“You keep it up and I’ll get you a kids meal, Albert.”

“Excuse me, I am not a—”

“With a small french fry. With a fucking juice box.”

“Fine!” he shouts, which definitely sounds like a fucking child. Diane grins in satisfaction, and she keeps it on her face all the way off the highway exit and to the nearest blindingly bright drive thru, cheerfully ordering two hamburgers from an acne-faced kid in the window who’s chewing gum loud enough to break the sound barrier of Albert’s patience.

“Would you like fries with that?” the kid asks.

Diane hesitates, drawing out the moment and Albert’s absolute last nerve until she says, “Yeah.”

Albert manages to pull his wallet out when Diane gets her own, but she gives him such a look like she’s going to ram it down his throat if he even so much as opens his mouth to offer to pay. It rankles him, but then Diane’s flinging the bag of food at him and driving around to park facing the road. There’s a balancing act between the thermos and the hamburgers and the fries and Diane’s ginger ale and her cigarette, but they manage. Albert unwraps his hamburger, exchanges the onions for the saddest lone pickle slice from Diane’s, and sinks his teeth into the whole thing. It really is the greasiest thing in the world. He hates how good it tastes right now.

The radio crackles with static, only bursts of some recent subpar Chicago song coming through. Cars shoot by, one another another with the lights starting to blur. Albert rubs his eyes and says it. “I feel like I left him there.”

Diane picks at her french fries. “I don’t think either of us could’ve dragged him away,” she concedes. “Not if he didn’t want to leave.”

“He’s got all the self-preservation skills of a deer in headlights,” Albert says. “And he’s not even going to notice if he gets hit. Next thing I know he’ll put down roots there.”

Diane shifts in her seat.

Motherfucker. “Don’t tell me,” Albert says. “Don’t do it, Diane. I’m asking nicely.”

“Too late. He wanted to know about his real estate opportunities in his pension,” Diane says. Then—“I told him it was misfiled and I couldn’t find it. I thought, even Dale couldn’t be serious about that. But—”

Albert’s free hand curls in on itself against his knee. Son of a bitch, it stings. He should’ve stayed and sat through the most pointless funeral so he could pull the hooks out of Coop himself and take him home. He should’ve punched Harry back. He should’ve looked him in the eyes until he saw what Coop saw in there. He should’ve finished Laura Palmer’s autopsy. He should’ve taken them all back with him when he had the chance.

He wonders what his own pension options are. Albert is by no means going to walk right after Coop into his hell du jour, but he’s got enough sense to know where it is and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t stay close enough to drag Coop back the next time.

“You think he’d do it too,” Diane says, her voice low. She turns and faces him, and Albert can see the lights in the parking lot hit on the circles under her eyes. Her cigarette has burned out now. They’re the only ones left in the world for a second, two people waiting to see who loses it first.

So they make a choice, between the two of them. Next time.

He has to get his head back on straight. Albert clears his throat a few times, unclenches his fist. “I think Dale Bartholomew Cooper is going to give me a goddamn coronary,” he says. “Unless this burger does first,” he continues, taking another bite.

“Bartholomew?” Diane repeats, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I am. As serious as the coronary.”

“Bartholomew,” she says it again. “Oh, it’s so terrible I kind of love it.”

“You’ve been his secretary for how long and you didn’t know that?”

Suddenly, a smile breaks over her face. She starts giggling. “Did you know—did you know he didn’t know my fucking last name until last year?”

It startles a laugh out of Albert. It’s the sort of unbelievable thing that becomes believable, with Coop. They keep laughing to the end of the hamburgers. It’s a damn novelty to still be able to do it. Maybe there’s enough hope left for the three of them yet. Next time, by the piercing guitar coming through the radio, Diane dumping the rest of her fries into Albert’s container, Albert drinking Coop’s coffee, Coop’s tapes waiting in Albert’s suitcases in the trunk.

“Thanks,” Albert says.

Diane grins again. “Yeah, I thought you knew how to say it. Let’s get you home before you self-destruct from the strain of it.”

Albert rolls his eyes. It’s a while yet to his place, and even longer back to Diane’s after. “You want me to drive?” he asks. It’s a pointless offer, since it’s her car and she came to get him, and it’s the Mustang, but he feels obligated.

But Diane laughs. “Shut up, Rosenfield. You can get me back later.”

Albert doesn’t think so. He lets her drive the rest of the way home, watching for sedans. None come close.

#twin peaks #wonderfulxstrange #countdowntotwinpeaks #tildytwo #albert rosenfield #diane evans #the title is growing on me. i could not think of anything else. and it was the first thing i wrote down #when i was listening to my peaks playlist while planning. bc this song is on it and i thought it hit something here #but if you knew what it meant to coop.........but if you knew what it meant to albert...........but if you knew what it meant to diane.....#song with twangy guitars and singing about standing -- stand by r.e.m. the subpar chicago song -- you're not alone #the piercing guitar -- paradise city by guns n roses #all of which were in the top 40s in early march 1989.#(i don't think albert would know r.e.m. or guns n roses but i DO think he would know chicago. classic chicago.)

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