#(but for the second one i DID poorly flip his head.)

[thr4shit]

Hey you!

Turn that frown upside down!

Oh!

Hello, I hope you enjoyed this random thing I made because I'm an idiot. :)

[freeabortionslol]

Sassy Man Apocalypse (luke hughes x gf!reader)

summary: you and your bf luke finally have a night for yourselves after not seeing each other for two months, but your drunk friends decide to crash it

warnings! sassy luke (obvi), heated makeout, suggestive, mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking, fluff, slightest bit of angst

a/n I feel like the makeout is so poorly written so pls ignore that. also I can just imagine luke being contributing to the sassy man apocalypse so I wanted to play off that. pls look up "himym robin Canucks" on yt so u understand what scene im talking abt. anyways happy reading!

wc: 2.5k

You and Luke were ready for a night in, just the two of you. He’d been in New Jersey for two weeks and you couldn’t handle missing him any longer. When he told you he was going to fly out to come visit you, you were nothing but ecstatic. Jumping up and down on the other line of the facetime as he laughed at you in joy. Now the two of you were lying on the couch watching How I Met Your Mother for the 6th time. It didn’t matter that you were sick of the show because all you could think of was the chest you were lying on. When Luke was away you missed him more than you cared to admit. The bed felt cold and empty without him by your side, but you were forever grateful that he was finally here. You were both cozied up on each other wearing hoodies and sweatpants. Your head lying on his chest while his hand gently stroked your back. Your arm was wrapped around his torso like he might leave if you were to let go. You started to feel your eyes close slightly at the comfort of the moment. Everything about it was perfect down to a T. Luke was watching the tv as he grabbed another handful of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee bowl. 

“Robin is so overdramatic. There’s no way the Canucks are THAT attractive.” He shook his head at the tv and you tilted your head to look up at him, stealing a kiss on his jawline.

“Well when a New Jersey Devil walked into my apartment this afternoon, my panties just about dropped so hard there was a hole in the floor halfway to China.” You smiled at him and he began to laugh slightly. Luke grabbed your chin and pulled you closer to him, so he could plant a kiss on your lips. It was soft and sweet at first, but deepened quickly. You pulled back for a moment, letting yourself get a couple of breaths in, but he quickly went back in. He firmly grabbed your waist, pulling you onto his lap to straddle. Your hand moved to the nape of his neck, running a finger through his hair. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, causing a slight moan to escape from the back of your throat. Luke took this as a signal to move his hands down to your ass, pulling you up closer to his groin. A groan escaped his lips when you moved your hips slightly against him. Your left hand moved further up his hair underneath his hood, while your right began to travel down to his chest. You tugged at his curls which caused him to move his hands back to your waist, flipping you over under him. With your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer, he removed his lips from yours to begin placing a trail of wet kisses down your neck. You had one hand tangled in his hair, with the other clawing at his back for more attention. He wanted to tease you, make you want it more than you already did. His hand started to make its way up your shirt when he found the sweet spot on your neck. A very soft “Luke” leaving your lips as he began teething at your skin, letting his hand trail up to your breast. You gave him a noise that he knew was only reserved for him as you grew hungry for his touch. Just as the moment was growing more intense by the second, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You decided to ignore it, and Luke started slowly pulling your sweatshirt off. You were both entranced in each other as you felt him pulling up the cloth on your bare skin, until you felt your phone buzz about ten more times. As much as you wanted to let him keep going you let out a quiet “Stop.” Luke’s lips leaving your neck in an instant as he buried his head into your shoulder in defeat.

“What is it?” He groaned out clearly frustrated. You pulled your phone out of your front pocket, to see ten new messages from your best friends Amelia and Maddy. 

Mads: dronk dronk dronk need ride and warm bed

Meels: lorst my shnoes feet hurrrtttttt

Mads: pleeeeeaaassseeeee we are downtown and no money for uber 

You pointed the phone towards Luke to show him the several messages you’d been sent. He scoffed at the sight, and buried his face further into your neck.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He whined and let out a frustrated groan. A part of you wanted to ignore the messages and let him dive into you, but you knew if you were drunk in the city at one in the morning with nowhere to stay, you’d be scared. Without having to ask, Luke got off you and stood up holding his hand out for you to take. 

“Baby, I can go alone if you want. I’ll just find them a shitty hotel or something.” You said with a tone of sympathy as you let him pull you off the couch. You gave him puppy eyes hinting at the fact that you did not want to go alone.

“You think I'd let you go out in the city at night alone? You’re crazy.” He gave you a smirk and held his grip to your hand as he walked to the front door, grabbing your car keys on the way out. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The drive to downtown only took about seven minutes. Luke was settled in the driver's seat with his hood up. One hand gripping the steering wheel, and the other rested in yours on the center console. He pulled into a street parking spot to wait for the two girls. You sent them a message letting them know you were there. The car was quiet for the most part, the soft sounds of Lord Huron playing from the radio, but that all changed when the backseat door opened. Amelia and Maddy were laughing relentlessly about something stupid probably. The car quickly filled with the stench of cigarette smoke and tequila. Luke gave me a glance that said “Save me” and I returned an apologetic smile.

“LUUKKEEEE I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE COMING!” Amelia screamed in a way that echoed throughout the car.

“Can you please use your inside voice? You’re making my ears bleed.” Luke stared only out the front windshield, earning a loud laugh from Amelia in the backseat. He tightened the grip on the steering wheel, slowly rubbing circles on your hand as he pulled out of the parking spot. You turned around to face the drunk girls while they recapped their night which was filled with sugary shots and random makeouts with nameless men. Luke drove in silence while you giggled with the girls. You laughed at how drunk they managed to get in the span of two hours, but Luke was clearly not amused. 

“Luke, I'm hungry. Can we stop at Taco Bell?” Maddy slurred through her sentence, letting her tongue out of her mouth for a slight dry heave.

“No. We have food at the apartment.” His speech flattened, clearly annoyed.

“But I haven’t eaten all day and I want a crunch wrap.” She whined as she kicked her feet against his seat, which earned you a death stare from Luke. You only shrugged at him.

“I’m not responsible for your eating habits, Madeleine.” Maddy let out a frustrated grown, slouching back into her seat. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Getting the girls into a house was more of a challenge than the two of you expected it to be. Maddy marched in perfectly, but Amelia was so stubborn and felt that her seat in the car was more comfortable than wherever you intended to move her. Luke slung his arm around her waist, letting her fall limp onto him, while you placed a hand on her back worrying that she’d manage to fall over. When the four of you entered the apartment, Luke immediately let go of Amelia, already annoyed by her presence. The two girls ran to the kitchen with you and Luke following close behind. Maddy found herself settled on the countertop while Amelia began to rummage through the cabinets. Luke sat on a barstool at the kitchen island and you claimed the spot standing next to him. He pulled out his phone and opened instagram, trying to distract himself from the loud girls, screaming in his girlfriend’s kitchen. You placed a hand on his back, slowly rubbing circles around the fabric of his hoodie. Luke tilted his glance from his phone to see Amelia pulling his favorite bag of chips out of the cabinet.

“No. Those are mine.” He gave her a stare that could kill. She turned around slamming the bag of chips on the counter, giving him a disgusted look.

“So, you say there’s food at the house, but we can’t eat it.” A slight sassy tone to her voice. Luke nodded his head with eyes widened, as he bit on his bottom lip. Amelia rolled her eyes and placed “his” bag of chips back into the cabinet. You gave him a slight nudge to which he looked over to. You gave him a look that sent him the memo “don’t be a dick” and he heard it loud and clear. Luke sighed and put his hands over his face.

“Why don’t we just order a pizza?” He muffled through his hands. The two girls started cheering, jumping up and down. You smiled at him before running to your bedroom to get your laptop. When you returned, Luke held out his hands signaling you to give it to him. He placed the laptop on the counter and started typing into the search engine. You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder while looking at the laptop screen. You could smell his cologne coming off his neck, and in all honesty it made you wish your friends never called. 

“Luke, what's your venmo?” Maddy asked from the counter, earning a big grin from luke.

“I got it.” He said as he smiled and nodded his head like he was the hero that saved everyone. Amelia clapped her hands in joy, as you planted a kiss on his cheek whispering “Love you Lukey.” into his ear which made him blush profusely. 

“We got that NHL card paying for our food tonight.” Maddy shouted, holding her hand out to Amelia for a high five. Luke responded with a triumphant fist to the air. You could tell that even though he wanted it to just be the two of you, a part of him was having fun with your friends. When Luke closed the laptop after ordering the pizza, you sat down at the stool next to him. You grabbed his hand and began tracing over his fingers with your thumb. The scent of liquor and cigarettes had been replaced by your pumpkin spice candle that was centered on the island as the night began to quiet down.

“Hey Luke, are there any hot guys on your team?” Amelia asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Uh I guess some of them are good looking.” He said, not looking up from his phone.

“Can you set me up with one of them?” She gave a mischievous smile at Luke whose eyes were still glued to the instagram reel he was watching.

“No.” He deadpanned.

“What? Whyyyy?” Amelia groaned and let her shoulders slump.

“Because I would never want to put them through that.” Amelia’s mouth gaped wide open as you and Maddy giggled at Luke's comment. You could see a slight smile creeping up on Luke’s face which relieved you, knowing that he wasn’t entirely miserable.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After about twenty minutes, the pizza had arrived and the four of you were now in the kitchen snacking on the greasy food Luke and graciously paid for. The four of you were casually throwing jokes around, most of Luke’s being at Amelia’s expense. He thought it fit best knowing that she had come in and ruined your perfect night in. Maddy was still sitting on the counter with a plate under her slice. She tried to eat without one, but Luke made sure that no pizza sauce was going to get on the linoleum you had moped earlier that day. When Luke finished his slice, his hand made its way to your thigh, painting figures with his thumb. You decided since everyone was finishing up with their food, and it was almost three in the morning, it was time to discuss sleeping arrangements. You told the girls that they would either have to share the love seat in the living room, or make a palette on the floor.

“What? Are you kidding? We both can’t fit on that couch, and there’s no way you’re gonna make us sleep on the hardwood floor.” Maddy whined from her spot on the counter.

“Yeah, we thought we were gonna sleep on the floor in your room, or we’re you guys gonna fuck?” Amelia finished the bite of her pizza crust as she spoke, and Luke returned a deadpan stare.

“Well we were planning on it.” She groaned at Luke’s response and you gave him a playful smack to the shoulder. “But I guess anything fucking goes with the two of you.” Luke crossed his arms in frustration. The girls grew smiles as you leaned your head into Luke’s shoulder, giving his arm a squeeze. 

You and Luke made your way to the hallway closets rummaging for blankets and pillows for the girls, and threw them into the room. Luke insisted they had to set it up themselves since he’d already done enough for them tonight. The girls shuffled into the room already on the floor setting up their palette, and you made yourself comfortable in the bed. You flopped onto Luke, resting your head into the crook of his neck while your arms wrapped around him. He grabbed the remote and turned How I Met Your Mother on the bedroom tv. The same episode you had been watching earlier. As the show began to play in the background, you planted a kiss on his neck and whispered a “Thank you.”

“If this is how I get to end my night, I will take care of your drunk friends all the time.” You gave him a smile and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You let yourself fall into a deep slumber as Luke stroked his hand up and down your arm. The quiet noise of the tv playing in the background, and the subtle laughs of your best friend’s from the floor, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I get it. When I see Luke’s brother, my panties drop harder than that.” Maddy let out during the same scene you and Luke had watched earlier.

“Shut the fuck up. Go to sleep.” Luke said as his eyes started to flutter shut, at the feel of your breath on his neck soothing him to sleep.

[bokutos-babyowl]

The Bet

It was a silly bet. You never thought the boys would have taken it seriously. But little did you know, they were waiting for Max's approval all along.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, 

Max Verstappen X Reader X Charles Leclerc

Notes: This is my first time writing fics in maybe 3 years, so bear with me through the struggles of switching between academic and fic writing.

Word count: 1489

Summary:

Max had been on edge recently with what has now been talked about as the downfall of the Verstappen reign. At first, it was only a DNF, but then the real issues came—the McLaren boys, with their newly upgraded car, were doing wonders on the track while his car seemed to be falling apart at the seams. Max had always been competitive in and out of the bedroom, so why not mix the two? You said it as a joke, thinking that with a new prize on the line, he would win it. But that was far from the truth.

The bet was that whoever won the next race would get to use you in any way they wanted. The "they" being Max—he was the one you made the bet with, after all. Imagine your surprise when, despite starting on pole... Charles Leclerc wins.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-

Waking up to Max’s blaring alarm was not how you assumed you would start the day, tangled in a mess after an evening at a team dinner that you left early—much to Horner's dismay after he saw Max follow you to the bathroom. Trying to find a phone half-asleep was not Max's strong point. Chuckling, you roll back into Max to distract him from getting up and causing the chaos of race day. Grabbing the phone and turning off the alarm, “I can’t wait to get fucked by the winner tonight,” you say to him with a kiss. Grinning, Max was quick with a comeback, “And if I don’t win?” Straddling his hips, you reply, “Well, I guess I’ll just have a new winner to be used by,” you say with a smirk, hoping to rile him up. But what you did not know was what happened in the paddock before dinner last night. His long conversation with Charles did not go unnoticed by some, leaving Horner mildly confused after you both left early.

Flipping you over, hands held above you, back arched off the bed, Max says almost mockingly, “Schat, wouldn’t you like to find out,” kissing you and then walking to the shower. With you confused, thinking of his words on the bed, surely he would not lose on purpose, right?

It was a tight race with Checo crashing out and a poorly timed pit stop on the Red Bull end. Getting out of the car, he was not the winner; he was second to who has been seen as his best bud of the week, Charles Leclerc. It was up on the podium he found you standing with the team. Making sure your eyes were on him, he gave you a menacing wink, looking between you and Charles.

After getting back to his driver room, you had nothing but questions about his small stunt on the podium. Yet when he opened that door, you knew it was not a time to ask him. Helping him pack up from the day, you headed back to the hotel. On the way to the hotel, Max was quiet, looking between his phone and you as you drove him back, thinking he was just tired. The whole way to the room was silent; you expected to open the door and go straight to bed. Yet the bet you made this morning was still happening, even if you thought it was null and void.

As Max opened the hotel door and you walked through, he slapped your ass. “Get the nice red set of lingerie on—you know, the one with all the lace. Be ready on the bed by the time I get back, Schat.” Nodding, you agreed. “With words, love, not your head. Will you be ready?” Looking him in the eyes, “Yes, sir.” “Good girl,” he says as he heads out of the door.

It did not take long for him to walk back into the room. As you are laying there in your red lacey set, you hear the door open. You hear Charles first. Walking in, Max showed a small smile, pleased that you did as he told you. You smile back, holding eye contact to see where he was going. “Fuck, when you said you had a present for me, I didn’t think you were a man to share,” said Charles. “It was all her idea. She said she wanted to ‘fuck the winner tonight.’ And after our conversation, I decided it would get you to stop following her like a lost puppy. So don’t be shy on my account. Schat, don’t be shy now, give the man what he won,” Max said with a smirk.

As Charles walked over to the bed, Max found his place on the chair, opening his pants just enough to pull out his member. Charles looked back at Max to confirm it was okay. Max nodded. Turning around, Charles pulled you flat on the bed, holding your hands as his tongue found its way into your parted lips. One hand wandered to your core to see how wet you were, as he dipped in a finger to find you soaked, showing Max. “Fuck, do you like it when I watch him fuck you, Schat?” Moaning as Charles moved down to your collarbone. “She squeezes my fingers so well, I can’t wait to fuck her.” With that, he turned you over, slapping your ass as you pulled it into the air. On all fours, he ripped off your lace panties. “She likes it rough; she is a good slut like that,” Max says, slowing down his pumps to delay his release.

With that, Charles loosened you up a little more before slamming it deep in you all at once. “Fuck, Charles, so full,” you moan as he lets you get used to his cock. He was a little longer than Max, as balls deep, the tip kissed your cervix just right. Max watched you with calculating eyes, giving him the nod. “She’s ready. Be careful; you won’t wanna stop once you start,” Max says, keeping his eyes on you. With that, Charles grabbed your hair, starting slow, building up pace. “Show him the works, Schat. Don’t leave anything out.” With that, you let go of all the tension pent up in your body.

He was a little longer than Max, as balls deep, the tip kisses your cervix just right. Max watches you with calculating eyes, giving him the nod. “She's ready; be careful; you won't want to stop once you start.” Max says keeping his eyes on you. With that, Charles grabs your hair, starting slow and building up pace. “Show him the works, but don't leave anything out.” With that, you let go of all the tension pent up in your body. Rushing towards your release, you can tell Charles is almost as close as you. Both moaning messes as Max pumps his cock to seeing you getting fucked by his friend. He watches as Charles fucks you through your organum, chasing his own. He can see the glint in Charles's eyes as he is about to spill his load in you. Right when you can feel Charles pulsing, ready to release, he suddenly is pulled out of you by Max. 

You let out a sound of complaint as Charles spills his load on your ass. You can feel your insides itching to have that second release as Max grabs your throat, pushing you up so you're back in facing him as you can feel the nudge of his cock. Max motions Charles, and you kneel in front of you, your tits pressing against Charles's nipping mouth. Slowly he guides Charles back into you, before he slowly inserts himself. Hearing a whine of concern, he kisses up your neck. “Relax, schat; I got you. I won't let anything bad happen.” You trust him wholeheartedly as you slowly get used to the new stretch you have not felt before. 

You give them a small moan alerting them that it was okay to move now. With the sounds of thrusts and moans, you are lost in a teetering bliss between being too full and not full enough. Charles starts circling your clit, and Max is teasing your nipples, on the brink of pain. Your eyes roll back, and you are on the verge of your next orgasm, overstimulation starting to prickle your senses. With a loud moan, you fall into your next orgasm. “Fuck, schat, did I tell you you come cum?” Max whispers in your ears, whining as you know what happens next, as they are still going. Charles is slowly losing pace, focusing on your clit, and he gives the notion that he is about to come. 

Coming in you with a load moan, he slowly pulls out, as he is not focused on your clit, pushing you into overstimulation. Max keen on getting his way can make your body tense up on him knowing that you are both so close. “That's its Schat. Let go for me.” With that, you fall over the edge, your body burning with overstimulation, as Max keeps his pace, letting you come down before coming in you. 

Charles catches you from falling to the bed as Max composes himself. Getting off the bed, Max gets the supplies to clean you up as he sees you falling into sleep with Charles holding you close. After cleaning you up, he gently wipes Charles, who moans with how sensitive he is. “If this is what I get for winning, I might fight for pole more often,” he says with a yawn. “Don’t get too comfy; you know who she comes home with at the end of every race,” he says, and he crawls in on the other side of you, taking you from Charles's grasp.

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! First meeting their S/O

Slashers! x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence

Michael Myers

It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house

A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night

Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall

“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”

“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”

“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”

Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache

Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim

Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume

You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin

He wanted, no, needed to kill you

Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his

“You know what would be so funny-“

The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers

Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact

His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl

There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend

But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it

Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs

“I’m, sorry for breaking in”

Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move

His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor

As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion

If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?

He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely

Jason Voorhees

Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by

There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather

That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts

Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone

“Oh my god”

Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences

Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching

“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”

Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire

Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world

“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”

You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind

Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure

But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget

Thomas Hewitt

Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone

Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out

Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go

That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun

That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door

Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck

“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”

Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in

“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”

Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so

Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys

You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone

Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall

Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder

Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him

“Thank you”

Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his

“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”

Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire

Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster

“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”

You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you

“You’re not worried are you?”

Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no

“He seems very reliable”

You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so

Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man

Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help

Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor

“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”

Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before

Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face

The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin

You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet

Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye

Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed

“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”

Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway

Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you

Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room

Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until

“Is that man from before gone?”

You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did

“Good, he scares me”

He merely nodded, unsure of how to act

“Is he going to come back?”

Vincent shrugged

Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you

“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”

Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!

^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months

[peachsukii]

✮ content. little thoughts related to this post. fem!reader. mentions of mental health struggles & blood/wound care. reader is a little mean to herself. angst w/ comfort + fluff. softie bakugo.

Lost in the nothingness inside your head, you don’t have time to react when the cup slips from your hands, crashing into the sink with a loud crack. It was an accident, but you can’t help thinking that the universe is out to get you, and somehow, that you deserved it. Your favorite mug laid in ceramic slices, shattered under the running water of the kitchen sink.

“The hell was that?” Bakugo calls from the living room while making his way to the kitchen. “Did ya—”

He stops, the look on your face sending a chill through him as you stared into the sink basin, eyes unfocused and hazy. Carefully, he approaches you and turns off the water.

“Sweets, you’re bleeding,” Bakugo says hurriedly, a hand coming to take the shard from your grasp. When did you even pick that up?

“Lemme clean you up, yeah?” It’s phrased as a question, but Bakugo won’t take no for an answer — it’s not in his vocabulary. He runs into the bathroom and back to the kitchen in the blink of an eye, first aid kit in hand. The tin bangs against the counter as he throws it open. He lets out a breath before taking your hand to examine it further.

“Doesn’t look like anythin’ is stuck in the cut. Here,” Bakugo pauses to turn the faucet on and pushes your hand under the icy stream of water. “S’gonna sting, but cold water helps numb it.”

“Might make me feel something,” you mumble monotonously. “Other than stupid for dropping the damn thing.”

“Hey.” Bakugo orders sternly, fingers instantly finding your chin to turn your gaze toward him. “None’a that. Shit happens, you didn’t break it on purpose.”

You roll your eyes at him when he lets go, unintentionally getting snippy at his words. “Sure, I’m constantly terrible at everything because shit happens. Can’t be that I’m a failure of a hero, or at everything lately.”

“Stop.” Bakugo’s hands tremble as he rummages through the first aid kit to find what he needs. He hates seeing you spiral, loathes hearing you talk so poorly about yourself during these episodes. “S’not your fa—”

“But it is my fault!” You don’t mean to interrupt him, but your emotions are getting the best of you in the moment, the pain begging to be released at any cost. “All this misery and pain is exhausting. I should’ve let the villains take—”

Bakugo unexpectedly slams the first aid kit closed and shuts you up instantly. You’re speechless, the sudden outburst shaking you out of your self pity party and shifting into concern for him.

“…Katsuki?” You ask sheepishly, knowing full well your words cut him deeper than any knife could.

“Please…stop.” He turns his back to you, a hand coming to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. The air is heavy, the only noise being the water trickling over your wound. All he wanted to do was take care of you, fix your physical wounds in order to help heal your emotional ones. "Not sayin' ya can't be upset, just...don't say shit like that."

He’s right, you know he’s right.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.” Bakugo turns back toward you, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “Don’t wanna think about you not bein’ here is all.”

Before you can stop yourself, the question spills over your lips. “But Katsuki, why are you here?”

He hesitates for a few seconds, cycling past the urge to spit back something sarcastic or harsh to such a stupid question. You think for a moment that he’s considering leaving without a word, the hurt in his eyes evident from your negative attitude.

“Do I need a reason?” He tilts his head before lowering his eyes back to your hand, gently taking it in his and flipping your palm toward him, dabbing the excess water away from the open cut. “Y’know if I didn’t wanna be somewhere that I wouldn’t bother.”

“Yeah, but—”

He holds his free hand up to interrupt you. “M’here ‘cause I happen to love your ass and don’t like seein’ ya down. I won’t leave ya when you’re strugglin’, what kind of hero would I be then?”

You don’t mean to, but scoff at the mention of being a hero. “Always gotta be the hero.”

Bakugo stops to take a deep breath before invading your space, dropping the cloth from his hand and encasing you in a hug, his dry hand pushing your cheek against his chest. “Listen, sweetheart. Fight me all ya want, but as long as my heart is beating, m’gonna be here to take care of you. Sunshine or rainstorms, good and bad times. We figure it out together. I’ll keep drillin’ it into your head until you believe me, no matter how long it takes.”

There’s no point in arguing any further or being stubborn, Bakugo always knew how to win that race. A graceful surrender is your best option. He lets out a dry huff of victory at your silence, a tiny grin plastered on his face when he pulls away from you to return to the first aid kit.

“Now lemme wrap up your damn hand before you bleed all over my kitchen, then I’ll take ya to get a new mug. Deal?”

Your lips curl into a half-smile, suddenly feeling a little lighter than earlier, even if it’s just for a moment. “Deal.”

[inkdrinkerworld]

Cw: a little suggestive so maybe 18+only, I’m just kinda playing around to figure out his voice ygm?

Dick Grayson who’s the world’s biggest flirt and doesn’t mind one bit that you’re the feistiest thing he’s ever come across.

“You know, I could always help you spar, get your hand eye coordination up to my levels,” he’s still the dorky gymnast kid he’s always been- just older and a lot hotter.

You’d been in the league with him and went solo when he’d founded the Titans but he still pops up every now and then to tease and get under your skin like he’d done when he’d still been Robin.

“And what level would that be Grayson? Second base?” Your chest is heaving as you stand, body dripping in sweat from your latest sequence.

Dick knows you don’t really need pointers, but how else is he going to make a show of wanting to be around you.

“I’m wounded,” he places his hands on his chest and leans forward, the perfect opening for you to swipe your foot at his legs and have him falling forward.

Instead, the stupid (read:sexy, cocky, egoistic, did you say sexy yet?) man jumps over the anticipated attack and flips you onto your back.

“You wound me, pretty girl.” You roll your eyes and flip you both over, so you’re hovering over him.

“I really might,” he winks at you as you stand and you shake your head. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Dick stands, takes your towel and wipes his face and then leans on the doorframe.

“Came to check in on my girl, that so bad?” You get up on your toes and press a kiss to his lips.

“Missed you,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands holding your waist tight as he pulls you closer. “Spend the night with me?” He trails his nose against your jaw, his lips stamping kisses under your neck on the myriad of beauty marks you have that make your knees weak.

“Dick,” you grumble, hands sinking in his hair. “Fine,” you try to keep your voice all gruff and steady but he knows better. He feels the jump in your pulse, his ears are insanely attuned to you so he hears the little hitch in your breath too.

“Don’t sound so excited,” he pulls away with a smug smile and you know you’ve got a hickey somewhere on your neck. “Meet you by the bike in ten?”

“If you think I’m getting on that thing with you Grayson, you haven’t missed me enough.” There’s a poorly hidden smile on your face as you back out of the training room.

“Whatever you say, gorgeous. I’ll be by the bike.”

You don’t protest much when you step outside, dressed all pretty with your duffel bag full of clothes and whatever else you might need and find Dick leaning on his car- a midnight blue that puzzles you on how no one figured him out to be Nightwing for so long.

“Such a liar,” he takes your bag from you, chucking it into the trunk as you reach for the door.

“Touch that handle and we’ll have issues,” your hand drops immediately. “Didn’t want you to feel all desperate having to rub up on me the entire ride back to our place.”

The way he says it, our place, warms your heart. You and Dick had the roughest time getting accustomed to each other and now that ease, that familiarity, that willingness to share something so intimate and it be easy- it makes everything you’d both undergone worth it.

“Yeah b’cause I’m the desperate one between us,” He smiles as he buckles your seatbelt for you.

“Glad you could admit it, gorgeous.” He kisses you then closes the door before you can complain and all you hear is his laugh as he rounds the car to get in.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

so glad jason is getting out in his place for the reverse, no one gets to treat baby poorly

Dick shouldered your bedroom door open and exhaled slowly. You hated having other people in your room. "Just lay her on the bed," he said, putting your bag down and putting the lunch box of snacks on the desk. "She'll be okay."

"She's really still," Jason said frowning as he laid you down. Taking half a second to unfold your arms from across your chest- just to make you look less dead.

"Happens," Dick said, pulling a clean blanket from the chest at the foot of your bed and throwing it over you quickly. You had half a dozen extra blankets. Throw pillows. Plushes. At some point in the intervening years, you'd gone from a full-sized bed to a queen just to accommodate it all. "She gets tired out after all that." He paused for a second and checked the temperature in the room before jerking his head towards the door.

It was better to leave you alone and let you rest. And once they ere outside, he shut the door and lead Jason down the hall. Going to find Alfred and let him know that you're safely in your room.

"What did she do to her hands?" Jason asked?

Dick shrugged, "Punching the shit out of the trees, tearing out brambles... The clearing is bigger than it used to be. I know she's hurled rocks around before. But. I only know that because I check up on it every so often."

"But-"

"Otherwise," Dick sighed. "It's a lot of crying, blood-curdling muffled screaming, and emotional turmoil that would make Bruce crack... It all has to go somewhere."

"Just out in the woods recreating a horror movie?"

"Nowhere else to do it," he said practically. "It could potentially fuck up the whole manor if she just flipped shit in her room. She can't just run screaming down a street. And unless she wants to live isolated in the middle of nowhere- which might be okay for a while- she'd probably just go crazy and either join a cult or start a cult."

"She's terrified of people-"

"Terrified of hurting people," Dick corrected, "and of being hurt. there's a difference. It's like befriending a feral cat. You get pretty far with snacks- it takes a while to get her to warm up to you. Alfred won her over with Homemade Cinnamon rolls."

"What'd you do?" Jason snorted.

"Snuck her into the zoo early one day," he said smiling at the memory. After a disastrous family trip that had you whimpering in pain, watching you zip down the walkways beaming... It was worth bribing a few people.

"What'd everyone else-"

"Little wing, look," Dick sigh. "I get it. She's a cutie. She's got an air of mystery about her but-"

"I don't-"

"It's just a little crush. If you just relax a little when you talk to her she'll stick around. She doesn't really hang around any of us-"

"I don't like her like that," Jason murmured," cheeks heating. "She's just weird."

"She's weird and you're a reheated corpse," Dick snorted at his retreating back. He'd HAVE to tell Stephanie. She liked knowing when her hunches were right.

[sleep-i-ness]

Maybe They're Born With It, Maybe It's Trauma

Summary: You make a new friend at rehab.

Content Warning: Drugs, rehab

TUA MASTERLIST | GENERAL MASTERLIST

“I hoped we wouldn’t be seeing you back here so soon.” The dour face of Dr Hartleben greeted you as you waltzed into the rehab centre, a grin splitting your face in two.

“How could I stay away? I simply adore the early morning yoga sessions and going around in a circle after lunch explaining why we’re all so fucked up.”

Dr Hartleben’s pursed lips and sour expression conveyed all she had to say on the matter as you turned sharply on the ball of your foot. She took large strides down the corridor, and you had to jog to catch up, your scruffy trainers squeaking on the shiny linoleum floor. This place was like a second home to you, having been in and out every few months for the past 7 or so years.

You’d tried to hold down a steady job, really, you had. But all you had to show for it was a place as a flautist in the local orchestra, which did not pay, and a spacious but surprisingly cheap apartment in the dodgy part of the city. That you’d bought with money from your past life, when everything had been fine and on track to at least a minimal amount of success. But all in all, you’d decided that there was no point in trying to regain some semblance of normalcy in your life when all you ever did was try to escape the ghosts from your past.

Dr Hartleben pushed open the dull aluminium door with your foot, a shaft of sunlight illuminating the room. Ah, home sweet home. The stale scent of iodoform and sweat wafted out and you breathed deeply. This was the one thing that never changed, no matter what.

“You know your way around, the top bunk on the far left is vacant. I expect to see you adding your name to the duty rosters and coming to group therapy this afternoon,” Dr Hartleben was itching to leave you in the confined patient dormitories, barely even standing on the faded doorstep of the room. “Your stuff will be brought to you as soon as it has all been checked.”

You scoffed. “I’m always a model patient, I’d never jeopardise my spot in this wonderful place by bringing shit in with me.”

“Then why are you back again? I’ll leave you to get settled and make your bed. Your sheets should be on the end of your bunk. The others are in the garden, one of the nurses will be round in 10 minutes to escort you.”

With that, the door swung closed, and you were left standing in the dank and poorly lit room. The frosted windows were too grimy to let much light in and the bulb in the lamp buzzed a faint yellow. At least this time you had a top bunk, which was clearly the superior spot.

That was the problem in having so many drug overdoses on your medical record; every so often you’d be sent back into rehab, with or without a court order to stay. You had forgotten the strict rules that had to be followed and the lack of freedom; you didn’t need a babysitter. At least in rehab you wouldn’t be quite so lonely, you had roommates to keep you company now. And everyone had their own demons to face, otherwise they wouldn’t be here. There was no room for judging.

The crisp sheets smelt of starched linen, over washed and firm to the touch. No more comfy bed sheets, you mourned. The mattress was lumpy and had a suspicious dark stain on the plastic that you straight up refused to touch, choosing to flip it over instead and hope that the other side was less grimy.

“Y/N?” A knock sounded at the door and a nurse popped his head round the door, clutching your overflowing crochet shoulder bag. It was a face you hadn’t seen before, and you quickly plastered on your friendliest grin.

“Hi, yep, that’s me. Is my stuff all okay for me to take?” All there was in the bag was a change of clothes, some toiletries and spare underwear. No point bringing anything too nice, someone was bound to nick it otherwise.

“Yeah, yeah.” The nurse returned your smile, holding out the bag for you to quickly grab and sling over the end of your bed. He was quite young, you would guess late 20s to early 30s. You pitied the poor guy, having to deal with them all the time. Well, he had chosen this.

“Dr Hartleben said that the other patients were all in the garden, can I join them?” You skipped over to the door, your colourfully patterned skirt swishing round your ankles. You hadn’t been quite sure that your outfit was particularly fitting for the centre; it had felt a bit too bohemian but seeing the drab and dreary walls reminded you that a pop of colour would do this place some good.

The garden was a bit of an overstatement really. It was more of a paved courtyard with weeds growing between the cracks in the slabs and a couple of small flowerbeds, one of which had been a vegetable garden the last time you had been here but now appeared to have been taken over by weeds. It was the space for the newest patients, who couldn’t be trusted to go into the slightly more expansive grounds yet. It was depressingly barren, and you eyed the patients morosely milling around with a grimace. How boring.

“What’s growing in the beds at the moment?” You turned to the nurse, whose name you hadn’t learnt yet, with a dazzling smile.

“I don’t think there’s anything particular being grown.”

You pursed your lips. How sad. Any life or nature in this place really was stifled and stamped out in the end.

--

You trudged into the group therapy room, eyes following your feet as they left scuff marks on the shiny floor. You slipped into a spare seat, barely making eye contact with anyone else. If you could get out of this without a single person trying to become your new bosom pal, you’d count it as a win.

“Hi, I’m Ella and today we have someone new joining us, so I’d like everyone to go round in the circle and introduce themselves by saying their name and why they’re here. Louisa, if you wouldn’t mind starting off for us.” The irritatingly cheery voice of the therapist was grating on your nerves, you hated these sessions with a passion. What was the need in sharing the same stories every week?

“I’m Louisa and I’m an alcoholic.”

“I’m Mark and I’m a heroin addict.”

“I’m Susanna and I’m a drug addict.”

“I’m Brent and I’m an alcoholic.”

The droning of voices soon became a wave of background noise that washed over you like a sea of calm, each introduction as monotonously boring as the next. The person to your left spoke and you yawned softly, daintily lifting a hand to cover your mouth. “I’m Y/N and I’m an addict.”

There was something so tiring about rehab. Between the withdrawals and the endless therapy and need to be in touch with emotions, it was draining both physically and mentally. You couldn’t wait to get out; you only had a couple more weeks to go.

“And, our newest member, would you like to introduce yourself?” You could practically hear the beaming grin in Ella’s voice, and you rolled your eyes. Bit much.

“I’m Klaus and I’d like to say I’m a tortured soul-” Your head snapped up to look curiously at the newbie. Heavily eyelinered brown eyes stared back at you, a mischievous twinkle shining in them. “But to stick with the same pattern as everyone else, I’m an addict.”

He lifted a ringed hand to wave to the circle, winking at you. And you felt yourself flush, ducking your head from his intense gaze.

Group therapy had never felt so long as today, not that you could recall anything discussed, not when your eyes kept straying towards Klaus. And boy, did he notice. Every time his eyes met yours, he held the eye contact, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you flushed redder and redder.

How unfair that someone this gorgeous was at rehab; how were you meant to even attempt to recover when he kept looking at you!

It wasn’t until the end of the session, as you all shuffled out, that he properly made his way over to you, a cheeky grin on his face. You glanced at him, turning your head back to the door with a small smile which you tried your hardest to fight back.

“Hello, Y/N,” he murmured, voice so low it felt like a conversation that was only for you. And you bit at the inside of your cheek to squash the blush crawling up inside you.

“Hiya,” you whispered, hoping you didn’t sound quite as excited as you felt.

“Come here often?”

You giggled, hating how much like a schoolgirl you sounded, and finally plucked up the courage to make eye contact with him. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“Court mandated as well?”

You nodded, picking at a stray thread on your skirt.

“Well, we’ve got each other now.”

And you chewed at your bottom lip, beaming grin splitting across your face as a heady rush of giddiness filled your chest. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

“Want to go see the garden with me?”

You nodded, a little too quickly and eagerly, and he just chuckled at you.

Maybe rehab wouldn’t be as bad this time around.

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Random Soap MacTavish headcanons

sfw and nsfw

pairing: sgt. Soap MacTavish x reader (cod mw)

tags/tw: domestic stuff, afab!reader, handjobs, shower-sex

a/n: just a taste of our cinnamon-role-but-can-kill-you Scottish man before I start publishing my new series with him, tihi

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish MASTERLIST

sfw

-the way to this man's heart is through his stomach and I will die on that hill

-has such a big appetite, two portions minimum and has no shame in eating more, ''m a big lad, bonnie, need the fuel'

-but he's still respectful if you're having dinner outside your closest circles of friends and family, not complain and always lets everyone have their fill before even thinks about serving himself a second one

-this means Soap always has some snacks with him, most times it's a protein bar or something verging on healthy

-such good table manners??? you were surprised when Soap didn't eat like the average man, scarfing down the food in seconds well he still did that sometimes

-you got the explanation when he caught your poorly hidden astonishment, explaining how his ma drilled him with all kinds of etiquette and manners always saying 'just because yer in the army doesn't mean yer need to behave like a Neanderthal'

-give this man an evening with a home-cooked meal and cuddle on the couch to nap away the food coma afterwards and he's whipped

-he never puts on a shirt at home, just really likes walking around with only a pair of joggers

-he unmistakably has golden retriever energy, but compared to popular belief, his seemingly never-ending social battery can run out, and when it does, Soap's behaviour can flip like a switch

-makes him an introverted extrovert, he loves people, loves chatting and social situations, but craves alone time to re-charge

-you're his uncertified pillow, if you sit together he most certainly either has his head in your lap, is sprawled on top of you and face in your neck, head on your stomach with arms wrapped around your waist

nsfw under the cut

-much like, but compared, to Price, Soap doesn't mind your ass but he's a certified boob man

-if your boobs are big enough, he likes using them as cushy pillows, which often end with his face between them

-yes, he's definitely motorboated you out of the blue

-other times he repeatedly nudges them so they wobble or simply squish them together, grinning when you question if he's having fun

-if you don't have fuller busts, he likes to just rest his hand on your chest, always defending himself that even you unconsciously do it sometimes, but the argument falls apart when he rubs your nipple to make it perk against his palm

-Soap. loves.handjobs

-will never forget when he was taking a shower and you decided to join him, boobs pressed nicely against his back as your arms wrapped around his torso, then your hand slipped down his stomach until brushing his already half-hard cock, blood rushing straight to it the second you joined him

-when your fingers wrapped around him, Soap's hands fell to the wet tiles, head hanging between his shoulders, staring at your small hands jerking him off

-sometimes he feels like a teenager concerning how reactive he's to your presence, you don't even need to do something overly sexual and blood rushes south

-sometimes you caught the way he watches you intently, asking an innocent 'what?' squealing out a 'Johnny!' when he pulled away whatever cover or his pants remember the point of him going commando most of the time? showing off his bulge or rock-hard erection rather than verbally answering

[lostintransist]

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish Has ADHD

Johnny stared at the computer. Arms crossed, brows touching, jaw working back and forth, he stared. This fucking report needed to be done in an hour and he hadn’t started. The words were there, buzzing around in his mind. Trying to catch them and force them out through his fingers was like trying to catch minnows in the open ocean. The freeze response only captured him it wasn’t life or death.

The minutes ticked away. As each one disappeared behind a new number the tension in his spine mounted. It was as if his mind hid the switches he needed to flip to move. He would give anything for a gun to appear at his head. At least then he could bypass the maze of his mind.

When ten minutes remained for the report to be submitted without Price ramming a broomstick up his ass, Johnny found he could move again. Fingers flying across the keys he slammed out the report with seconds to spare as he smashed the submit button. Disgust watered his self-hatred. Why did this happen to him every time? All reports, washing his dishes, even remembering to shower without Simon nudging him into it.

Pushing himself up to standing Johnny slammed the inoffensive office chair under the desk. The daily drudgery of existence wore on him. Days when he wasn’t out on a job were harder. Jobs allowed him to focus, to simply be in and of the moment. Setting himself at a clip Johnny stalked across the base. The quagmire of his thoughts sapped at his will.

Slamming into a body he stopped moving.

His hands shot out to catch the person he had so rudely hit like a freight train. The civilian communicator with a bright smile. She smiled warmly up at him.

“Sorry about that, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she took a step back, placing a respectable amount of space between their bodies. Johnny crossed his arms.

“Sorry lass, my doing.”

She waved away his comment.

“It’s fine. I actually have something for you,” she dug around in her pockets as Johnny waited.

When she found what she was looking for, a small sack with the drawstring closed tight, she held it out to him.

“And what is it?”

He unfolded his arm enough to accept the offering.

“Do you remember several months back we had a conversation about ADHD and how you seemed so surprised by all the things I mentioned were related to it?”

“Aye,” he dug his fingers into the fabric, separating the two sides.

“Well, I thought you might appreciate a gift.”

Johnny dumped the contents of the bag into his other hand. Four small oval pills spilled into his palm. He looked at him, uncomprehending.

He opened his mouth to ask but got cut off.

“They are a really low dose and should wear off in a few hours but if they help you can get in with Doc and get a prescription of your own, right? Let me know how it goes, I’m curious if it will help you as much as it helps me.”

She patted his arm as she passed him by. Johnny stared at the small pills for a moment longer before tucking them back into the small bag and shoving them deep into his pocket. It would take days before he could muster the bravery to try a single one.

❍❍❍

The day started bad and ended worse. Johnny woke to Simon being gone from their bed. All he had wanted to do had been to snuggle until he couldn’t feel his bones stabbing at him from the inside anymore.

He found no peace at breakfast, seemly everyone needed him before his tea had finished steeping. Morning drills went poorly, with one recruit having to visit medical for a broken jaw. By noon Johnny wanted to crawl so deep into the earth that the sun and everyone else would never find him. Instead, he pulled out a few guns that needed cleaning from the storage and began to break them apart.

The pills from the communicator lived in his pocket. He hadn’t told Simon about them. Unsure if he would try them, and didn’t want to deal with Simon’s too observant eyes on him. When a pistol sat disassembled on the table before him he paused.

What the hell, he thought to himself, why not try one?

He swallowed the pill dry.

With a shrug, he went back to his task. Picking up each piece and examining it for damage before wiping it clean and oiling the parts that needed it. Finished with one he set it to the side. As he began to break down the second gun he noticed his hands. He became viscerally aware of them. They moved with ease and a speed that almost shocked him. He had done this same task at least a thousand times and only now noticed that he didn’t have to think about each move of his hands. The flick of his eyes started to make him nauseous. Why were his eyes moving so fast?

Setting the barrel down with a clink Johnny stood abruptly. He didn’t have to think about standing. Looking internally he couldn’t have been more shocked if a grenade had landed in front of him. The bees were gone. The constant hum of thoughts and feelings and general nonsense had disappeared. Casting his eyes around him Johnny searched for something to fill the void in his brain. Finding himself alone he sat down again and finished his task. The ease of completing the cleaning and reassembly of the gun enraged him.

He had to think through every step of everything he ever did. The only time he could move on instinct had been on jobs; when his and everyone else's continued breathing rested on him being able to move before thinking. Tucking the guns back into their cabinet Johnny rested his forehead against the cool metal doors.

He had never seriously contemplated the fact he might have ADHD. His brain worked fast, oftentimes too fast for him to get ahead of and he ended up in some pretty bad situations as a kid because of it. Even now his mouth ran faster than he could stop most times. It was the reason he had been banned from so many important meetings. Asking generals if they are fucking stupid tends to not be received well.

Years of practice had given him the ability to let out just enough of himself. So much of his experience lived under the surface of his skin. Not even Simon knew the extent of how hard he worked to keep up with everyone else in the 141. That man held Johnny’s whole heart and he could still not find the words to tell him.

Tension started behind his sternum. Deciding he needed to move his body Johnny headed for the training room. He observed every person as he passed them, contemplating if they could move, think, do with such ease as he now did. With each person he passed his anger grew.

The training room, while not full, had more people than he cared to see right now. Nodding to a few familiar faces he went to the locker room to change. The decisions of which shorts, shirt, if he should wrap his hands all found immediate answers. The cacophony of thoughts he suffered under did not barrage him. No demands for questions yet unasked sapped at his strength.

The rage grew.

He chose a loose pair of gym shorts, a compression shirt, and yes he would wrap his hands. Popping in headphones he turned on his heaviest base music and set the volume just louder than tolerable.

Rage.

Stepping from the locker room he locked his eyes on the punching bag suspended from the ceiling. Johnny noticed but ignored the way everyone watched him. Fists moving became the sole focus. Had he ever been able to completely concentrate on one thing? Even when seconds ticked away on a bomb in front of him, hadn’t he been thinking of how to say goodbye, wondering where they would lay his headstone, sent silent apologies to his team.

A pit opened in his chest, a black hole eclipsing everything.

Johnny hit resistance he hadn’t expected, the shock moving up his arm and settling in his shoulder. Someone must have told Simon. Large hands held the bag from swinging wildly like it had been. Lungs searing with each breath Johnny stared at his lover's face. Well, as much of his face as he could see. Simon wore his soft balaclava today. His eyes were softer than the mask he wore.

“Johnny.”

They watched each other as Johnny took deep breaths, hands hanging loose at his side. He didn’t want to talk about why his knuckles had split under the tape.

“I can’t do this here Si.”

Simon nodded once at Johnny’s quiet words. Stepping around the bag Simon slid a hand up and over Johnny’s shoulder. One tight squeeze and then he used gentle pressure, pushing forward.

Johnny moved with the touch. Letting himself be led. If he stopped moving then he would start sobbing. He hadn’t cried since he had been sixteen and kicked out for the final time. Listening to their footsteps combine became the lifeline he held onto.

Once Simon closed the door behind them Johnny couldn’t stop his lip from trembling.

“What happened Johnny?”

His whole jaw quivered now.

“I can think.”

“Aye, you can always think,” Simon pushes him back onto their bed. Setting a chair in front of the bed he starts to care for Johnny’s hands.

Johnny watches as his lover carefully ignores the tears streaking down his face.

“Every day half of my energy goes to functioning. Did you know I have to think about standing, moving, being? One tiny pill and I can stand without the effort of thinking through each minute movement I need to rise. My brain has never been quiet. It sounds like a jet turbine in there. All. The. Time.”

Simon finished on one hand and started on the other. They both ignored the blood that dropped onto their feet.

“I have struggled all my life to get ahead of my own thoughts. To stop the word vomit. I have to outthink myself to keep myself safe. I..”

Simon looked at him now, the lightest sheen of tears in his eyes. He gently cleaned the breaks in Johnny’s skin, stemming the bleeding.

“My anxiety is gone,” Johnny blubbered. “It’s like discovering I have been using a musket when everyone around me gets to use a fully automatic rifle and I am still accomplishing more than they are.”

Hands reached, resting on either side of his face. Johnny reached up and pulled the mask off of Simon. Placing a kiss on Johnny’s brow Simon followed it up by resting their foreheads together.

Simon’s heart ached. The whole of his love lived in the man between his hands and he was hurting. Simon had never been good with words, even less so when it came to Johnny.

“What do you need?”

Johnny sobbed out a laugh.

“God, I just need a nap.”

Simon’s brows rose; Johnny didn’t nap. The man barely slept.

“Want some company?”

“Absolutely.”

Johnny toed off his shoes as Simon unlaced his boots. The men scooted onto the bed until they found a comfortable position tucked against each other. Simon held his lover as he slipped into the first sound sleep he had ever seen from the man. 

Masterlist

[authorsofghosts]

Restlessness | Peter Maximoff x Reader | Pt. 1

Author's Notes: everyone blame (or thank) @genderqueerbarbie777 for this, they made me like Pietro before I even met him in any media. also surprise bestie !!!

Summery: Peter's sleep schedule is... borderline non existent. You try to give him some of your own coping skills, things you've learned over the years of also dealing with mutation-induced insomnia.

Themes: Fluff, Friends-to-Lovers, Mutual Crush, Mutual Pining, Slowburn, Cussing, Labs mention, Mental Health Talk, Peter steals stuff (offscreen), Peter's worst day ever (/j), R has insomnia, R is a mutant (no powers written), R is a Student at the school (older, over 18), R scolds Peter.

Word Count: a lot. (4.8k)

"Hey, wait up!" You call out to your friend, who quickly zooms to your side with his signature goofy grin.

"Yeah?" He asks, looking at you, eying the book in your hand, "What's the journal for?"

"I- Peter!" You're baffled. You knew that he was usually a snooping kind but when he did it to you, it was embarrassing. You shake it off, clearing your throat, "It's for you. You saw it was blank, huh?"

He nods, taking it from your hands and flipping the pages with his thumb. He looks up from the book towards you and grins again, "That's sweet, but I'm not much of a writer."

"Yeah, but I thought maybe it could help with your... uh, insomnia?" You question yourself, looking at him again as he holds the black leather book in his hands, thumbs rubbing the texture. Maybe it was a stupid idea, but you had to stand your ground. "Sometimes journaling can help calm your mind, make you sleepy."

"Yeah?" He smirks, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you into a hug. "Thanks. I'll give it a try." He pulls away, looking down at an non existent watch and smiling, "I gotta get going now, have fun with your... whatever you're doing."

And with that, he was gone, but not before leaving something in your hand. A piece of paper with a poorly drawn alligator mouth with the words "Later" in it. It was cute. You found yourself staring at it for a little longer than you should.

Later, indeed, you saw your friend again. Surprisingly, in the gardens. He turns and looks at you, zooming up next to you and smiling widely. "Heya. Whatcha doin'?"

"I was gonna go for a walk, but maybe with you it'll turn into a run." You joke, looking down to see the journal in his hand. "You drawing or something?" As soon as you say that, the journal disappears from his hand.

"Uh, I don't know what you're talking about." He laughs, poking you on the head, "You going stir crazy in the mansion, yeah? Wanna run to the mall or something? My treat." He snakes an arm under yours and holds your head, and suddenly, without even letting you answer, you're sitting at a table in the food court of the mall. You go to say something but he cuts you off, "One second-"

And for only two or so seconds, Peter is gone. You groan, staring at the chair, waiting for him to come back. He returns with two large cups of soda, sitting one in front of you. "You pay for these?"

"Well- no. But I mean, the prices are so jacked up here." He laughs, leaning into the table you both sat at. "I don't mind it, if you don't. I'll go get some of Beast's cash and we can-"

"Peter! I'm fine with you doing that here," You start, holding your cup in your hand, pointing it slightly at him, "but don't you dare think I'll let you steal from Hank."

"Aw, you have a soft spot for the blue fur ball, eh?" He teases, rolling his eyes and sipping his soda. He watches as you shift in your sit, eyes studying every minuscule movement.

"Yeah, may I do, and? You can't just be taking from your friends, Peter." You look at him, watching as his eyes dart up to meet yours. He chews on the plastic straw for a moment, looking to the side and thinking.

He shrugs, "I guess you're right. But hey, don't tell me you haven't at least thought about how much money that rich guy Charles has got." He wasn't wrong, you two weren't the only ones to think about it either. Rumors around the school, mostly stupid ones, were always about the money that kept the school up and going. But you didn't really care for that kind of gossip. "He's not exactly a millionaire, you know?"

"Change the topic." You say before sipping your drink, tapping your nails against the grody table you both sat at. He nods, laughing softly at your tone. He looks around and grins.

"Arcade?" He asks, nodding towards the bright lights of the games not so far down from the food court. You smile widely, a strange feeling in your heart. Is this a date? Is he taking you, you of all people, on a date? Surely not.

You stand up and push your chair in, waiting for him to do the same. He slaps his legs as he stands up, grabbing his drink again and wrapping an arm around you. "I'll take that as a 'yes', then."

"Yeah, show me your 'amazing video game skills'. I still kick your ass in anything you can't cheat at."

"Oh, you're on!" He says before running forward, at a normal human pace. You follow, laughing softly as he looks back at you. You both make it to the arcade, looking around for the first game to play. Peter already spotted his favorite, but knew if he choose it before you could make a decision, he'd look bad. So he let you pick. You grab his hand and slide into a booth cabinet, the screen in front of you flashing images of gunning down monsters. You look at him for approval and he nods.

Peter digs in his jacket pocket for a second before pulling out a roll of quarters, putting a finger to his lips in a 'Ssh'ing motion. You gasp, wondering where he even got them from. Before you can even ask him, the game blares to a start. He places your hands on the controller gun and smirks.

The game is fun, I mean, of course it is. You choose it cause you knew you'd like it. The competitive nature of both you and Peter rang out in the banter, but also the brilliant teamwork. You laugh and fight together. For an arcade game, it's really good. And you go through at least half of the roll of quarters to play the whole thing, continuing the story line and getting the high score in each.

Peter smiles at you after putting both your initials on the scoreboard and leans back, shoulder brushing against yours. "Why didn't you tell me you're a great shot?"

"I did, you just didn't believe me." You laugh, leaning into his touch. You both sit there, your cheeks heating up as you realize your proximity. You quickly crawl out of game, stretching slightly as you look around the Arcade. Peter stands next to you, following your gaze.

"What now, Sargent?" He chuckles, putting his hands on your shoulders with a slightly rough plop. You laugh with him, shrugging. "Pac-man it is then." He grins, pushing you towards the row of arcade cabinets to the left. He leans against the wall and slides a quarter into the slot, quickly making work of the game because of his powers. You watch, not surprised in the least, seeing him do this multiple times before.

If anything, it was entertaining. His hands moving impossibly fast and he chews on his cheek, sticking his tongue out in focus. You felt that strange flutter in your chest once again, realizing what it was now. Were you really falling for the dumb speedster, or did you just heavily care for his well being?

You related to Peter, both being mutants and both of your mutations causing sleep issues. You never really told him what kept you from sleeping, but that didn't stop him from telling you, yapping about every detail as he sat on the couch, legs criss cross as he holds the toes of his boot, swaying back and forth.

He can't stop moving, ever. If he stops moving, then everything slows down, and he can see everything fall into place. His mind is constantly racing, too, to try and combat the slowness of everything. If he could, he'd just sleep in micro bursts, but if he falls asleep, everything goes back to normal. He's done it before, falling asleep in the halls because everything is so slow and so peaceful, immediately falling over and drooling onto the floor.

Watching him beat the game and cheer, you see the tiredness behind his excitement. The eye bags under his eyes, the way his eyes slowly blink to give him just enough rest to keep going. You sigh and lean into him, "When's the last time you slept?"

He looks at you, eyes widening at the question and your proximity to him. "Well, uh... I don't know... maybe... Friday?" He shrugs, pulling you closer and ruffling your hair, "Why? Worried about me, hm?"

"Peter, it's Monday."

"It is?!" He says, faux surprise. "I know, I know. I just, uh... can't, ya know?" He laughs, looking around for something to distract you both. He finds the prize stand and quickly counts tickets. "786. I can get uh... not anything cool, really."

"Then let's keep playing, dingus." You punch his arm before dragging him towards more games, trying to find something he can win a lot of tickets in. You push him in front of a simple, large jackpot game. "You got this one, right?" You tease, smiling at him as his eyes scan the machine.

He nods, clearing his throat as he looks it over more, "Yeah, yeah I can get the jackpot no prob, doll." He shimmies a quarter out of the almost empty roll and puts it in the machine, leaving you stunned at the last word he said. 'Doll'? That one's new.

To Peter, everything slows down as he focuses on the spinning wheel watch each tick move clockwise. He smirks, eyes not leaving the lit up indicator. It's the first time he's seen a machine like this, actually, so he was amused to watch it go. He quickly pressed the button as it landed on the bright green panel that said 'JACKPOT!'.

You squealed as the tickets started to flow out of the ticket slot, watching the counter rise up to the big, big number of 500 tickets. You kneel down, collecting all of them so that they aren't on the floor, giggling happily as you look up at him. "Knew you could do it."

The words make Peter flustered, taken aback slight by them. It wasn't that they were unexpected, just... different. He looks down at you, leaning against the arcade cabinet and watching the tickets funnel out of the slot. He can't help but let time slow around him so he can stay in the moment longer. Your eyes looking up at him, your smile, everything. He felt at peace, and God, did he need some peace in his life. He cleared his throat as you stood up, the bunches of tickets in your fist. "Anytime." He said calmly, thinking about the response while he left his eyes to wander over you.

You both trotted over to the prize table after he did the same number a few more times (20. He did it 20 times, even after you told him to stop.), racking up your ticket pool to a solid 5 digit number. The ticket counting machine almost breakdown on you both. This caused you both to laugh softly, leaning against each other as you walked over to the prize table. Peter slid the ticket slip to the worker, who looked at him with narrow eyes. You knew what for.

"What did you do now?" The man behind the counter asks, looking down at the slip. "Ten thousand, seven hundred and eighty six fricking tickets. How?"

"I have my ways," Peter laughed, blowing across his knuckles as he shock them in front of himself. He looked over at you with a smirk. "That new games easy, might wanna turn up the difficulty."

"You got ten thousand tickets from that spinning wheel?" The worker eyed you both, raising an eyebrow. "You sure you and your friend there did just spend God knows how many hours here in the last few days to crank up this number?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. Peter spoke up again, "No, mister Dan. I haven't been at the mall since last week, you can check your cameras." He pointed around to each of them before turning back to him. "So you gonna give us the alligator and crocodile plushies or what?"

Your ears perked up, remembering the doodle from earlier that day. You pulled it out and looked at it before shoving it back into your jacket pocket carefully. You walked over and followed your friend's gaze to the two stuffed animals connected by the hands. You tilted your head, trying to read the tag before it was blocked by Dan, the arcade worker.

"Here. Have fun." He grumbled.

"Hey, hey, no, I still have seven hundred and eighty-six tickets. The matching bracelets and the candy bundle, por favor, senor." Peter smiled, leaning over the glass and pointing at what he wanted. You watched the rest of the conversation, taking a step back and looking at the note and plushies again. It was funny, like he had planned it all along. You weren't sure if he did, it wouldn't be that far fetched, would it?

Peter turns back around to you and waves his hand in front of you. "Hello, earth to planet you, what's up?" He looks at you and then your hand. He laughs softly, grabbing the note from your hand and looking at it. "You kept it?"

You tilted your head, looking at him. "Yeah, of course. I mean, that was only a few hours ago anyways." You rolled your lips into your mouth, biting them softly before smiling and grabbing the bracelets from his hand. Each had a picture of the plushes, one alligator, and the other a crocodile. It was cute, the little doodle of the alligator on your note was clearly based off of the bracelet. "Who's is which?" You twirl the rubber bracelets in your fingers, smiling as you look at him.

"You get the Gator, obviously." He smiles, using his super speed to slip the bracelet on your wrist then holding his next to yours. You both laugh, the connected plush animals falling to the ground as Peter drops them. He picks them up and looks at the stitches that connects them. "Yeah, I can get a seam ripper and unconnect 'em, huh? So we can each have one."

You smile, agreeing with him, "Yeah, I'll help you so you don't fuck it up." You grabbed the plushies and wrapped them in your arms, sinking your face into the soft fabric. "Oh these are surprisingly well made, real soft. Like those Valentine's Day stuffies."

You both freeze at your words, both stopping right outside the arcade and into the mall. He wrapped an arm around you, looking around before grabbing your head and giving you a heads up before zooming back to the mansion. As you got the the front door, Beast and Charles were on the front porch. Peter hissed out a curse as both the men looked at you two.

"Have fun, Maximoff?" Hank said, looking at him with a slight tinge of anger. You don't know if that was from the escapade you two had at the mall or if it was because of something Peter did before. Before you could ask if you were in trouble, the convenient mind reader cut you off.

"You're not in trouble, but he is. Come on," Charles said, turning his chair around and opening the door, waiting for you to go in first. You knew you were going to get a stern talking to, and you hated it. There was nothing worse than being scolded by a British man that could see your every thought.

You took the walk of shame to the Professor's office, sitting down in the chair with the stuffed animals in your arms still. You knew he could tell you were afraid of getting in trouble, but that didn't keep him from doing what he had to. He gave you a warning, something he said Peter had way too many of, and this was only your second.

"Your other warning, if you remember correctly, was because of something similar with your buddy, yeah?" Charles said, looking at you. You nodded, biting the inside of your lip as you recounted the time you and Peter had went up to the roof past curfew, just to hang out a little longer. It was something anyone would do really, to chill under the night sky with their best friend. "I understand your relationship with Mister Maximoff is-"

"Relationship?" You spoke, looking up from your feet for the first time since you stepped foot in the room, "We're just friend, Professor." You looked at the bracelet around your wrist and the stuffed animals in your arms as you started to laugh slightly. "We're just friends." You repeated yourself, trying to convince yourself as well.

"Oh." was the last thing that Charles wanted to leave his mouth, eyes widening as he realizes he said it out loud. He clears his throat and tries to save himself, "Still, you are one of our school's smartest kids, you can't be acting out like this. Again, there is no punishment for you. It will, however, go on your record." He turned, pulling open a filing cabinet and taking your file out. "I'll see you in class tomorrow. Please, behave yourself so I don't have to before then."

With that, you got up and left, the room silent with only the sound of the clock above the door's second hand ticking. You weren't upset at Peter, of course not, that's your best friend, but you were mad about something. You couldn't figure it out, but you stormed to your room and locked the door, groaning as you threw yourself, and the plush animals, onto your bed. You looked at the two plushes as you laid on your back, eyeing the seam that kept them together. Maybe you should make Peter do it, after all, he got you both in trouble.

It was supposed to be a quick trip to the mall. Nothing else. That turned sour as soon as he laid his eyes on the arcade. Peter wanted to win for you. He wanted to get the matching bracelets and stuffed animals, so that maybe you'd see that he cared about you. He just never really knew how to express that.

"Look, Hank, you can skip the whole speech of having the behave if I'm gonna stay at the mansion, I get it just-" You goes to walk into the mansion and Hank's hand stops him.

"I'm sorry, Peter. You're kind of on your last warning." Hank said, his voice rough. Peter looked at him, his eyes wide.

"No, I mean, what is this, like... 25? 35...? There's no way it's more than that, man, I've basically been a saint since that time on the roof-"

"I know you have, but still. You can't keep getting away with whatever you want. You gotta promise me something, alright?" The two looked at each other before Hank continued, "This is the last stunt you're doing. You're an X-Man now, Peter. You can't keep acting like the world doesn't have consequences, and you can't take someone down with you."

"Down with me? Hank, Charles isn't writing them up, right? Listen, I'll take double the warnings if that's what it takes to keep their record clean. I didn't even properly ask, I mean, I just kinda grabbed 'em and zoomed to the mall, it's my fault, really." Peter rants, talking expressively with his hands as he always did, but this time he was stuttering and stammering as his face heated up with embarrassment. He quickly covers it and groans into his palms. "Fuck!"

"First of all, language," Hank laughs out, shaking his head, "Second of all, this isn't their first warning. You know that. And Charles would never do that, you both broke the rules. If it was brought up, even if not verbally, the Professor would probably not care to begin with. He's harsh on the rules, bud."

"I know! I know, it's just, I didn't think we'd be gone for that long!" Peter looked at Hank, a wide smile on his face as he laughed, "I thought we'd be in and out, but honestly, that arcade grabbed way too much of my attention. And they kept egging me on to keep playing, so I decided to-"

"Get enough tickets to buy the plush reptiles? Yeah, real smooth." Hank laughed. "You know that's gonna look a little suspicious, right?"

"Suspicious? What are you talking ab-" Peter blushed deeper as he saw the look on his friend's face, "I do not have a crush on them!" He stomped, zipping around the porch in anger. "Okay, maybe, but shut up!" He continued the little bit of a temper tantrum on the porch and when he finally got out all the frustration he stopped in front of Hank. "What do I gotta do to clean my record? Anything, Beast, anything at all I'll-"

The next day, you walk into one of your classes and see Peter standing at the front, a look of defeat wiping away as soon as he saw you. "Hey!" He said, running up to you, unusual as he'd almost zoom up on you and hug you whatever way he thought was funniest.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have like Danger Room duty or something?" You asked, looking at him with a little bit of worry because of what happened the day before.

"Oh, yeah, that's after this though, I kinda owe one, or well, a lot, to Charles for letting me crash here and, well, uh.... This is one of the things I have to do to scrub clean that 'bad boy' record. Did you know I have the most warnings? Yesterday was the 50th."

Your eyes widened at his words, blinking a few times. You laugh as you realize a new addition to his usually terrible fashion chooses. "What's with the collar?"

Peter sighed, groaning as he fixed his jacket to try and hide it, "It's supposed to repress my mutated gene, in turn making it to where I can't speed through the chores I'm supposed to do." He says, clearly mocking either Charles or Hank.

You move his jacket to look at it again before smiling up at him, "Well, don't let me distract you, Mister Maximoff." You said before patting his cheek and going to sit in your chair. You looked back at him and saw his bright, goofy smile, which warmed your heart, making getting through the rest of the day a lot easier.

Peter slowly, oh so painstakingly slow, went around the day, cleaning the mansion head to toe, teaching some as a substitute, and helping Hank with his day to day. He was basically, in his words, a 'paper pusher' the whole day. He did mundane things when he could be training to be a better X-Man. It annoyed him, but if it meant being able to stay at the mansion, being a X-Man, and staying close to you, he'd do it ten times!

The most annoying part, though, was that he couldn't use his powers. This also caused the day to seem a lot faster, since he didn't space out and slow down time accidentally. As soon as the last of the classes ended, he walked up to Hank, "Alright, take it off now, please? Please, please, please!" He pointed at that damned neck collar and grumbled, shaking his hand rapidly as he waited for Hank, who was going as slow as he possible could to watch Peter's reaction.

"Alright, I get it. World's fastest mutant misses his powers. Thanks for being a test subject." Hank laughed softly, unclasping the collar from Peter. He watched was the younger man speed around the lab, making sure not to upset any of the stacks of papers around them both.

"Thank you! Oh my GOD, you have no idea what my day was like. Wait- did you say test subject?"

"Well, yeah, who do you think developed the technology?" Hank laughed, sitting back down and looking at Peter. "It was just a small thing I worked on to past the time."

"That thing could've killed me?!" Peter exclaimed.

"No, I tested it myself before, but because my mutation is, well, uh... physical, it didn't do anything to me. You have an actual power, beside turning blue."

"Oh..." was all Peter could say, staring into space for a moment, "Alright, but that means, my day is done? I'm free from doing this again right?"

"You think one day of chores is enough to repay all the broken rules?" Hank laughed softly, "Try a whole week."

"A week?!" Peter groaned, falling to his knees dramatically, "You're gonna kill me, Beast..."

"Well, that's not the plan." Hank chuckles, turning back to whatever he was working on. "Go. I'm sure they'll wanna hear all about your day."

Peter's eyes lit up at those words, had forgotten you existed for the last few hours. He zoomed out of the Lab and up to the main floor of the mansion, jumping back and forth eagerly in the elevator as he planned out how to surprise you. You probably hadn't made it to your room yet, so if he slipped in and stood there til you walked in, that would be a shocker, right? But first he had to find you.

With a quick lap of the Mansion, he found you walking up the stairs to your room. He smiled as he passed you, the quick air making you groan as you realized what happened. You run up the stairs faster and open the door to find Peter standing there, looking at a nonexistent watch and tapping his foot.

"Heyyyy," He said, turning to you with his arms open, waiting for you to run into them. But you didn't. You sat on your bed with a groan as you walked past him. "What? What happened, why are you bummed? You were fine this morning, who bummed you out? Do you want me to beat 'em up?" He asked a hundred questions a second as he walked over to you, sitting on the foot of your bed.

"No, I'm just tired. Don't get into any fights, please." You groan, laying on your side as you looked at him. You eyes brightened as you realized you actually had something for him, "Oh! Right, look!" You got up quickly and reached under your bed, pulling out the alligator and the crocodile plushes from under your bed, which were now separated.

Peter's eyes lit up and he grabs the gator from your hand and beams a bright smile, "Oh my goodness, you did it?! You didn't, like, rip them to shreds because you were mad at me?" He laughed hugging you tightly.

"No, what the hell do I look like?" You laugh, a little out of breath as he squeeze you. He pulled away, letting you breath and continue. "You're my best friend, man, I'd never do that to you. especially when we got in trouble for rescuing these from big nasty mister Dan, huh?"

Peter laughed, falling back onto your bed and holding the plush alligator to his chest. He had forgotten about the bracelet around his wrist and his eyes gleamed as he saw it. "Well, speaking about that, uh, getting in trouble?" He looked at you, his face softening, making you know his next words.

"You don't need to apologize, Peter." You quickly cut him off, mirroring his position with the crocodile against your chest, laying back next to him. "Just, uh.. promise me something?"

"Yeah, yeah, anything, what's up?" Peter turns to the side, looking over at you as he props his head up with his elbow. You look really nice, and he couldn't get that thought to go away. There was something different about today, seeing the things he had done, bringing you down with him, getting you in trouble with Charles. It made him love you even more, he had carelessly kept living the way he had before meeting you. He realized his thoughts and gaze caused everything around him to freeze as you hadn't replied to him yet. He shook himself free, looking at you, "Hm?"

"Use the journal. Maybe it'll help keep you in check, too, yeah?" You ask, putting out your pinky finger. He had completely forgotten about it, honestly, but if he was gonna make a promise to you, he'd have to keep it. He nodded and made the pinky promise with you. You both laid there for a moment before bursting into nervous laughter, sitting up and continuing with the both of your night.

[saintgoths]

ᴄᴀᴛ ꜰɪɢʜᴛ

DEALER!ELLIE X READER - CAT FIGHT. [COLLEGE/UNIVERSITY AU].

[PART EIGHT TO THE CATGIRL SERIES.]

WORD COUNT - 2,214.

RATING - 18+. [protective Ellie, lesbian sex].

SUMMARY - you and ellie get back together, but an angry doris confronts you.

[follow for more content & feedback would be appreciated thank you <3].

previous chapter - chapter seven.

You smiled, never had you thought you’d have a lover serenading to you. Your hands cupped your face as Ellie hummed, while she easily strummed her fingers against her instrument, you had watched with awe as you listened to the lyrics fall out of her lips, “I watch the moon, let it run my mood, can’t stop thinking of you,” the girl sang, and complimented you had leaned your back against the head board, hands now away from your face and now against your lap as she finished.

“That was amazing,” you said as she put down her guitar against the foot of her bed.

“Thank you,” Ellie acknowledged before she moved herself to kiss you, it was quick and soft, but the smiles between the two of you had mirrored the intense shared passion.

It had been two weeks ever since what had happened, and the two of you were confident to say that it had pushed the two of you closer.

Ellie had now had you in her arms as you comfortably rested on her chest, you stared up at the ceiling. “Did you really mean that song?” You curiously questioned, you looked up at Ellie, hands around her tattooed arm as she stared back at you.

“I can never stop thinking about you,” Ellie truthfully shared and with another kiss, you had gently flipped yourself so you could lay on your stomach. Eager to touch her mouth, you had moved your hands beneath her shirt but the sound of someone knocking on Ellie’s dorm door had stopped the two of you.

Your girlfriend had groaned as she pulled herself off her bed. It had been both Dina and Jesse behind the door, and quickly, you had remembered there was a party the four of you were going to. Jesse said he’d drive, which is why the two of them had gone to pick both of you.

You pulled on your shoes, and now on your feet, both you and Jesse greeted each other, he threw a certain look towards your way before he had commented. “What were you love birds doing?” He questioned; half of his question had sounded serious but you were able to hear the playful tone.

With a knowing look, you arched your eyebrow. “Leave it to your imagination,” you responded as you slipped past him and before he did, Dina slapped his arm.

“Don’t you dare imagine anything,” she comically threatened which had then caused the rest of you to laugh.

❊❊❊

It was loud and packed. Both you and Ellie had clung onto each other as the two of you adjusted to the new atmosphere, there had been led lights, drinking competitions and people passionately kissing each other on one of the couches on display

“I wonder if there’s a room we can be in,” you poorly joked, thus Ellie squeezed your hand to reassure you.

“We should get a drink,” she said and with a quick peck on her lip, you told your girlfriend that you’d be the one to get them.

Once you left her side, you scanned for where most of the drinks had come from and made a bee-line towards it once you had found it. You hadn’t realised Doris had been there, but once you had felt someone’s hard eyes dig into you, you had looked up.

You remained silent as you poured both you and Ellie drinks but as you went to leave, Doris had commented.

“You managed to get Ellie back,” Doris said, as if what had come out of her mouth had been irony.

You turned to look at her. “I’m serious about her.”

“It took you time to become serious,” Doris pointed out, which had been true. “To be serious about people, I mean.”

Flatly, you smiled. “The previous people I were with were just stepping stones to get to Ellie I guess.”

Doris smiled right back at you, and in a matter of seconds, the liquid in her cup had been splashed all over you. Everyone turned to look at what had been happening, and annoyed, you had thrown your drink back at Doris as people encouraged the two of you to fight.

Quick on her feet, Ellie immediately stepped in between you and Doris, her eyes dark as she looked at your ex-partner. “Leave [Y/N] the fuck alone!” Ellie rudely spat, and bold, Doris had taken a step forward, ready to speak, but Ellie had been quicker. “I promise I’d give you the beating I should’ve did back in the toilets.”

With a scoff, Doris looked at both you and Ellie up and down before she left. Your arms crossed, you realised how drenched you were, your excitement for the party had been put out the moment Doris threw her drink on you. “I’m wet but not in a good way,” you muttered as Ellie turned to look at you.

Empathetic, Ellie had sighed as she grabbed your wrist. “Come on, let us look for somewhere to dry you up,” she said and obedient, you had followed your girlfriend through the crowds who returned to party to the loud music.

❊❊❊

The two of you had found a room to sit in, Ellie had been the one to look for a bathroom and a towel, and once she did, she had used it to dry you up. “At least you still look very pretty,” Ellie said and you rolled your eyes to her comedic timing.

“Please you love being told you’re pretty,” she teased before she kissed you. Tenderly, Ellie had pulled away before she tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “How do you feel?” She asked as she gave you another peck. “Being confronted, and everything with your dad?”

You burst out laughing. “Ellie, we’re about to have sex and you’re asking me about my dad?” You asked and with red cheeks, Ellie kissed you again.

“I’m so stupid,” she mumbled and you agreed, with a smile you pulled her closer as she slipped off your shirt.

You had gently moaned as you could feel her grope your breasts. You could feel the way she circled her thumb around your breast fore she moved her tongue to suck it, her other hand had slipped off your lower garments and to support yourself, you had rested on your elbows as you had watched her desperately devour you. Her mouth had been hot and wet, and every few times she’s suck on your breast she’d fan her hot breath against your skin.

Ellie had slid down your body, left trails of wet kisses against your naked skin till she met with the opening of your legs. Elie had been terrifically wet and had the obsessive crave to rub herself against you, but she had focused on you, had left kisses between your thigs before her mouth wrapped around your pearl, as she sucked, the texture of her tongue had stroked against your slit, and you had shuddered, sensitive, your hand immediately reached for her hair.

The tip of her tongue repeatedly flicked against your clit before she slid her tongue inside, her swift movements had caused you to shake in surprise, her tongue also being aided by her digits had glided inside of you, her fingers arched as she stroked the soft lump inside of your cunt, eyes sunken into yours as she had watched the way your body had twitched.

“Ellie!” You had whined as you could feel yourself quickly cum, with a smirk, Ellie moved herself back to your lips, she had a smirk on her face, a smirk of arrogance, proud of how easy she had made you climax. The Williams girl helped herself to pull off the rest of her clothing, and immediately, your eyes were trained on her lean body.

“Look at me,” she commanded and immediately you did, your lower lips tucked behind your teeth, as you felt her adjust on top of you, your wet skins had barely touched but there was a ghostly gasp that left your lips, and when you had felt the pressure of her weight lean against yours, your eyes softened.

Your hands against her waist you had supported Ellie’s weight on top of yours as she commenced to rub her clit against yours. She moaned as she lowered her body against yours, her face buried between the crook of your neck as she had moaned, her eyes rolled back as the gentle sparks began to increase.

“Kiss me!” She begged and immediately, her lips were pressed against yours, the slick shared between your heat had augmented, and the lewd sting of her pressing your clit against yours had boosted, you had tucked your tongue into her mouth as she had sucked, her thrust had become quicker and more animalistic, greedy to chase her high, Ellie had moved her lips to the sharpness of your jaw, hungry as she used her tongue to lick down your neck.

Intense, your nails had dug into her back, you were almost there, entranced by the way your clit had moved and circled against hers, your eyes watered. “Fuck!” You cried out just as your body started to twitch. “Ellie!” You screamed as you climaxed, stubborn, Ellie had remained against you, her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her figure slowly cloaked with heat.

Her hand that was tightly clasped with yours had dug into your skin, she was wordless, looking down on you as she bounced on your swollen clit, her orgasm coming seconds after yours. Her nectar, spilled against your opened heat as she had then dropped beside you. Briefly, she had pushed a deep sigh as her wet eyes looked up at the ceiling.

“We should get back,” you breathed out as you had then sat up at the side of your bed, your back faced towards her, aware that the sight of her eyes glided down the figure of your back. You held back a smirk, if it had been you two back at her dorm, you would’ve gone for second rounds.

❊❊❊

It had been another week, you had remained by Ellie, spent almost the entirety of your term in her dorm, your finals were soon, but reluctant to stay away from you, Ellie had encouraged you to crash at hers.

The both of you knew how’d it end, kissing and touching each other. Ellie singing to you as you wrote about your fashion research, truthfully, the sex had taken over the amount of time you had spent with her, but it had been one of your favourite things to do, lips gently locked with hers as your fingers circled her clit, her tongue slipped into yours as she arched her fingers into your depth.

You had gasped into her mouth as you could feel your orgasm reach, around your fingers you had released, and Ellie had been after you. Currently, with your forehead pressed against each other, you had been the first one to roll against your back.

“After all this,” you said out of exhaustion. “Where should we go?”

“London,” Ellie quickly said and excited your eyes brightened.

You had then sat up. “London,” you said with a smile. “I’d love to go there,” you encouraged as you slipped on your panties.

“And then to Paris, to Rome,” Ellie listed, in early anticipation of what the future held for the both of you. “We go to the Eiffel Tower and we make out under it.”

You hit her shoulder as you teased her. “How corny,” you joked and with the dramatic roll of her eyes, Ellie pulled her hands behind her head.

When you put on the rest of your clothes, Ellie decided to put on her briefs, you phone had then rung and with a dismissive look you had muttered. “I’ll reply to it later.”

Unsure, Ellie stood to her feet, her gazed fixed on your phone, it had vibrated as the screen shined brightly white. “I think it is best that you answer now,” she suggested, though with the sound of her voice, it had appeared more commanding.

With a side smile you reached for it, unaware that the number of missed calls had been detrimental.

It was from your mother.

With a frown you had picked up the call, you had quickly pulled a strand of hair behind your ear as the sound you were met with were the frantic cries of your mother. You didn’t need to hear what she had to say because you knew, it had come to you like a moth to a flame, but with your silence and the stiffness of your body, you didn’t know if you had become paralysed or had been in shock to what your mother finally said.

You knew it was always going to happen, but there was always a delusional hope you had within you that believed that your he would survive, but it was just the inner child naivety. A scared daughter clinging onto her dying father. You had already wept before you mother had spoken, but when her woe words eventually came out of her mouth, clarifying the death of your father, your whole world had come to a stop.

feedback would be appreciated! if you want to be apart of the tag list comment <3

plus, it is ending there's only one chapter left.

tag list - @liasxeatt

masterlist

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[luveline]

Oh my gosh Zombie!steve holds a special place in my heart. Please write more for this Drabble series

thank you for reading!! steve zombie!au —you and steve reunite after a morning apart. 1k, fem!reader

Steve's sitting by the fire unawares when you drape the spare blanket over his shoulders. His hair, wet from a quick scrub in the stream, has soaked the collar of his shirt. The blanket is a welcome warmth, your doting moreso. 

He puts his makeshift bookmark between the pages of his book and follows your face as you sit with him. The apocalypse and subsequent lack of movies has turned him into a bookworm through necessity. He worries about things too much if he has nothing to do, and lately that's always the case. 

"Hello," you say, crossing your legs. Your knee bumps into his. "Sorry. Hey. What chapter are you on?" 

He flips the pages until he finds the chapter header. "Chapter twenty five." 

"You're getting quick," you say. 

It's weird to him that after so many confessions, days spent in one another's arms, nights laying between each other's thighs, you still hesitate sometimes before touching him. You know how much he loves you, and you waver. 

"We could start reading them together again."

"I go too fast." Your eyes widen in recognition. "But you're quicker now." 

He doesn't mind missing the last few lines of each page if it means you'll lean your head against his arm for a couple of hours every night. Your breath warms his collarbones. Your cheek soft and smushed to his rigid shoulder. 

"Way quicker." 

He thinks you're beautiful. It might be hurtful to say you aren't everyone's type, and it's not that he felt he had to warm to you before you became his type or anything, but you have something about you that he loves. Maybe it's purely the way you smile at him, that silly devotion poorly smothered (that he hopes you'd find reflected by him), or maybe it's your eyes. Maybe it's the way you speak to him, half the time like you're worried he won't talk back, and the other half like you're the same person thinking all the same things. He's hungry for every thought you have. 

Beautiful, and he loves you. Steve couldn't be more sure about it, and everyday it gets worse. He wonders if it'll ever stop, or if one day he's going to wake up next to you and choke on air, astounded by the chances of it all. How did you manage to find him? What luck was it of his to get to keep you despite his bad behaviour? He knows he was never as kind as he should've been to start with.

He looks at you and he thinks, Fuck, she's pretty. 

Steve tosses his book down into the packed dirt and just stares at you. You look back unabashed for a handful of seconds he savours. 

"Do I have something on my face?" you ask. 

"No," he murmurs. "You're just beautiful." 

Your eyebrows thread together at the starts, a wrinkle creasing the skin between them. You don't believe him, your lips puckering into a small frown.

"Why do you say stuff like that?" you ask. 

"I really, really think it's true. That's why. I can't not look at you without thinking about it. Even when we're dirty and starving and smell like hot garbage," he says, shrugging gently. "You're beautiful." 

"You've been reading too many romance books."

"I get that it sounds weird," he says. "Doesn't make it less true. You're beautiful." 

"That's enough," you say with a grin. "Stop. If Eddie hears you saying that he'll make fun of you forever." 

Steve gives you a fake shove. "Sorry, I'm confessing my love and the first thing you bring up is my arch nemesis?" 

You wince though he's only kidding, more than aware of his Eddie Munson related jealousy. You both talk about everything without punches pulled these days, and you've assured him he's the only one for you, but he'd quite like to hear it again. 

"Sorry, that's my bad," you say, shuffling closer to him. You put your arm behind his back and kiss his shoulder, warmth unfurling from the contact despite the shirt and blanket between it. "I think you're handsome, too, but you know that. Beside the fact that I'd never really been naked in front of someone before, those early days were torture for me 'cus I thought you were, like, the handsomest guy I went to school with." 

"Just school?" 

"No," you mumble, crossing your free arm over his stomach, nestling yourself under his arm. "Handsomest guy ever." 

He dips his head to touch his nose to the top of your head. 

"I love you," you say, scrunching his shirt in your hand. 

"Yeah, I love you, too. How was work?" 

"Bah. How was your day off?" 

Steve likes getting time off at camp, but it's pointless when you're not off with him. "Wasted. Missed you stupid, helped out with the kids at lunch anyways, spent the rest of it on that shitty book." 

"It's no good?" you ask. 

He loves your voice. It shoots through him like a spark, your genuine, lilting concern. 

"Shit. I don't think I wanna finish it."

"Skip to the end and go get a new one," you suggest. 

He closes his eyes and breathes in the smoky air of the campsite. You have this effect on him —of many— where you can quieten a hectic place. You sit down next to him and suddenly he's not sitting a ways off from the fire in the middle of the Michigan woodland, he's with you. Plain and simple. 

"I will." 

"Maybe I can help you vet some? Make sure you get one you enjoy this time. Or we can trade some of our credits for a new pack of cards. I'll teach you how to play speed."

"After you tricked me into being bad at gin rummy? Nah, you're okay." 

You force his head up as you lift your own, pinning him with your tender gaze. "You like losing. You do, you always say I have to kiss it better." 

He's a simple man. A kiss from his girl is all he needs. "Maybe we should get a pack of cards," he says smugly. 

You shake your head at him, but you're beaming. 

[veryace-ficrecs]

Do you have any zosan fic recs?

Of course I do! Here are some

Zosan Fic Recs

all the hidden love, beneath by Giosele - Rated M

His eyes flicker towards the more discernible scars, the deep ones with smooth taut skin. The ones his hands have traced hundreds of times. Then Sanji spots the fresh, poorly stitched wound dancing across Zoro’s flank. The shoddy quality screams Mosshead. “Moron.” Sanji crumples his cigarette and flattens it underfoot in one smooth motion. “Idiot. You stupid, reckless swordsman. Stay here, I’ll get Chopper.” -- The crew is a wreck after Enies' Lobby. Despite being a wreck himself, Sanji tries to take care of them all.

you got time, you're on the mend, babe by steeringwheeleater - Rated T

“He doesn't trust me, and he obviously doesn’t want the captain to know.” “He doesn’t want me to know, either.” “He knows that you know, Cook.” “What the hell are you talking about?” Sanji’s shoulders creep up again. “… Sorry.” Robin adjusts her stance from one leg to the other; her nearest analog to rolling her eyes. “You’ve been too gentle with him to be subtle, Cook. It’s like I said: you’ve been defending him to the others.”

Kept Down, Helped Up by Gay_as_fuck - Rated T

Zoro's near death in Wano strains the crew, the latest in a long line of risk taking. A very stressed Nami solves this problem by throwing Sanji at it.

In Tandem by lemon_drop48 - Rated M

"I wanted to make you laugh." The honest admission felt dumb the second it came out of his mouth. It's too breathy, he's still out of breath from a distinct lack of oxygen recently. And there's no way the cook understands - Sanji throws back his head in laughter. For a moment there isn't even fear that he's laughing at him. Sanji's laugh is beautiful, and seeing that huge smile spread across his cheeks in genuine mirth felt like it was priceless.

revelations by cloversome - Rated T

It's been three days since Zoro blacked out. When he finally awakens, he finds his spirit is detached from his still unconscious body.

Demon's Deception by Maik_Morrow - Rated T

Summary

Having read an article about the ‘Demon of the East’ years prior to joining the Strawhat crew, Sanji was confused. He didn't understand how the man he heard would be a ruthless monster could be so different. All he saw was a caring, kind and gentle man. Until he understood the reason some time later.

It’s In His Kiss by Hazel_Athena - Rated G

They reach the island of Bise early in the new year.

unintended consequence by itsmylifekay - Rated T

Imagine person A making person B a friendship bracelet, expecting person B to never wear it, but when it’s given to them person B puts it on and is rarely seen with it off. A group of marines charge, Zoro slices through them, and in that instant Sanji feels his own eyes grow wide. Because there, on the arm now outstretched towards him, steel glinting in hand, is the stupid bracelet he’d given Zoro. The bastard is actually wearing it.

Language of love by averybidisaster - Rated E

It irked Zoro that upon meeting him, a whirlwind of limbs, blue eyes and a cigarette dangling from his cocky smile, something in his gut flip-flopped, instead of the usual, clear feeling he usually got when he met men, like a natural yes/no answer. Obviously, the lovesick fool greatly admired women, ceaselessly shouting his love for them at any opportunity. But he had met many a man like that who still sought to warm his bed- and Sanji was... well, Sanji . His simple existence riles Zoro up like no other. And why does it matter to him what the shitty cook’s preferences are anyways? OR Zoro secretely learns French to understand Sanji. Because that’s obviously the easiest way to learn if the cook likes men.

Did You Know Marimo Came In Pink? by wiillowwriites - Rated T

After some some accidental tickling turns into something very intentional, Sanji’s the first of the two to notice that Zoro seems to be enjoying himself. Zoro isn’t quite sure what to do with the realization, but Sanji has an idea.

waiting by tinyjet7 - Rated G

zoro watches sanji hand out treats to everyone but him.

Ink by BleuReivers - Rated T

He’d gotten the first one for no reason other than he’d simply wanted it. Had ever since he’d first laid eyes on one of the cook’s ink during his Baratie days. It had taken him a while to actually get it and for a while he’d been convinced he never would. But, as the years went on and he crossed paths with more and more people who bore elaborate and, honestly, beautiful tattoos, the desire grew until he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

ham and rice by hailure - Rated G

"I'll get that bastard gets all the food he wants and then more. You don't need to forfeit your protein serving for that." "Oh, now I get it." Zoro's face turned mischievious, his nose bridge tinted with red now that the alcohol was briefly kicking in. "You're worried about me." After their victory in Wano, Sanji is not amused that Zoro just can't seem to eat properly.

Here’s To Us by TextlessNovel - Rated T

In which sharing a drink can tear down walls in a way that Sanji and Zoro never expected.

[sonder-paradise]

𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 & 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫 — 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢

◊ characters. mitsuya takashi, gn!reader

◊ wc. 1k

➺ 𝘪𝘮·𝘱𝘶𝘭·𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘫. 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵

𝘔𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘺𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭��� 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵.

Mitsuya doesn’t consider himself impulsive. 

He’s calm, collected, passive even. He thinks through his movements, his actions, everything. He plans and double checks. It's out of habit mostly. Years of being an older brother, a mentor, a designer, have crafted him into a precise and composed person. 

And then you came along. 

“Hey, I’m your new neighbor,” you said with a grin, hand outstretched as you offered him a simple handshake. Mitsuya flashes you that signature smile of his and takes your hand in his. You’re warm. His hands are chilly in comparison. Having been lost in his current project, his hands had grown cold from the open window. 

“Mitsuya Takashi. It’s nice to meet you.” 

And then you smiled and he felt his stomach warp and flip. He wished you wouldn’t let go of his hand just so he could feel your warmth a little longer. 

“You as well. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mitsuya.”

His eyes follow you down the hall. He counts the doors carefully till you reach the first, second, then third—no—fourth door. Mitsuya shuts the door behind him, hand reaching up to settle above his eyes before dragging down to cover his mouth. An exhale leaves him before he heads back to his work area to continue his project. 

He leans back against his chair, rocking against it before glancing out the window. It’s been a while since he moved out of the apartment with his sisters and mother. In moments like these, when it’s quiet and the word seems so distant, he wonders if it’s a good thing. He stares at the light fabric in his hands. Fingers running through it before he looks back at his initial design sketched out on the notepad next to him. 

It didn’t look right. 

It didn’t feel right.  

This sketch had been too rushed, too… 

The word alluded him as he reached over to turn the notepad over. As he did so, the mug of coffee next to it tumbled over and onto the light-colored fabric he had been working on. A string of curses fell from his lips. He immediately went to his feet, wiping down the coffee and eventually assessing the large and visible stain on his newest project. 

It seemed unsalvageable now. He handled the fabric slowly, scanning for any other stains or abnormalities. Eventually, he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair and grabbing his keys. Maybe a good wash would fix it up. 

The laundry room under his apartment complex was always poorly lit and filled with a puddle or two. He was used to this sort of environment. He used to take Luna and Mana to a laundromat just like this when he was still in high school. There was one other person in the room. Mitsuya blinked a couple times before spotting you leaning against the washer, scrolling on your phone. 

“We meet again,” he said, hand in his pocket while his free one cradled his project. 

You looked up, pulling out one of your ear pieces to look at him. Then a grin sprouted on your face. “Mitsuya, right? What brings you down here to the lint-filled dungeons?” 

He raises the white fabric with the obvious coffee stain on it. 

“I had a little spill.” 

You stood a little straighter, moving closer to look at the bundle of fabric in his arms. He offered it to you and you held it so delicately he could have sworn you already knew of its importance to him. 

“Is this your girlfriend’s or something?” 

As you unraveled the coffee-stained project, it unfolded to reveal the rough beginning of a dress. He placed a curious look on his face before realizing. 

“Oh, no!” he said, a light snort escaping him as he looked down for a moment, “It’s just a design I was working on this morning.”

Your eyes widened a moment as you handed it back to him. “Wow, you’re a designer? That’s impressive.”

“Not as impressive as you’d think, honestly,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m still trying to get my name out there. This… was supposed to be for a show I managed to get in. But I’m thinking of just trashing it.”

He stared at the dress, a frown creasing on his features as he traced his fingers over the coffee-stain. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all that on you,” he said quickly, flashing you an awkward smile. 

You shake your head. “Nah, you’re fine. I’m always happy to listen to someone who needs an ear.” Mitsuya watches as you motion towards the project in his arms. “I’m no fashion connoisseur, but… I think you should give it another shot. This one already looks really well-done.”

Mitsuya feels his stomach flip-flop again when you flash him another smile. 

“Besides,” you continued, “it looks like you put a lot of work into it already.”

The lavender-haired man laughed, shaking his head. “Quite the opposite actually. I drew up the sketch for this one too… impulsively.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” you shrugged, a smile still strung upon your lips, “Maybe get to know the design a little more.” 

Mitsuya stared down at the design. He thought about the notepad upstairs and the rough outlines he’d so hurriedly gone over while commuting to work. He chuckled, tilting his head slightly as locked eyes with you. 

“Maybe you’re right… Though, it doesn’t change the fact there’s coffee all over it right now.” 

You rolled your eyes, patting his arm heartily as your dryer pinged to alert them of its completion. “I got the perfect cleaning solution for you. Let me grab my laundry and I’ll show you the miracles of detergent and white vinegar.” 

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲

[apteryxparvus]

hello and congrats on 100followers!!!

wanderer x rtawahist darshan scholar reader, who really overworks themselves and almost always gets sleepless nights because of their occupation in rtawahist, and so wanderer often finds reader either sleepy (or sleeping) in the akademiya's library, or on some open grounds where they can stargaze not only for their studies, but for themselves, and wanderer js either can't see them so sleepless and forces reader to go to sleep, or he watches the stars with them༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

Thank you!! I really like the idea of a Rtawahist Reader, and I hope I did your request justice 😊

Part of my ✨ 100 followers milestone event ✨ running from September 2nd to September 9th.

Pairing — Scaramouche / Reader

Word count — 1,657

Content warning — none

The first time Scaramouche lays eyes on you, he assumes you’re just another one of those Akademiya students, running on caffeine and a never-ending string of sleepless nights. You're sporting the school's uniform, your hat somewhat askew atop your head. He notices the blue pin adorning it, signaling your affiliation with the Rtawahist Darshan, and he can't help but scoff at how it's slightly crooked.

You're stumbling through the hallway, precariously balancing a tower of books that's taller than you. It’s no surprise when you collide with him. He watches as the heavy tomes scatter across the floor, and you scramble to gather them, your lips rapidly uttering a thousand apologies.

With an exasperated sigh, Scaramouche crouches down and grabs the book closest to him — "Starry Atlas: Navigating the Night Sky." He idly flips through the pages, half-curious about the illustrations and the meticulously written descriptions and notes.

"You could at least lend a hand," he overhears you muttering under your breath.

He scoffs once more, closing the book. "You could at least attempt not to endanger anyone's life, Rtawahist."

You respond with a huff but continue collecting your scattered belongings. "My name's not Rtawahist," you retort, meeting his gaze. He can't help but notice the dark circles under your eyes and the exhaustion in your expression.

Scaramouche raises an eyebrow, expecting you to introduce yourself. However, you remain silent. You grab the last of your fallen books, "Exploring Destiny through Astrology" — the thickest and most heavily annotated of them all — and with that you scurry away.

As you vanish from his sigh, he doesn’t give the encounter much thought.

That is, until he meets you for the second time.

You’re nestled in a quiet corner of the House of Daena, face buried within the pages of yet another heavy book. Your hat sits neatly on the table, surrounded by an array of colored pens and papers adorned with doodles and incomprehensible scribbles.

He decides not to approach you directly, choosing instead to observe you silently from his own secluded nook. He has his own agenda for being in the library — researching the available books on the history of Inazuma, specifically the Tri-Commission. He’s feeling irked by a student from his own Darshan, a brash and loudmouthed boy, who had confidently presented what Scaramouche considers the worst thesis defense he had ever witnessed, centered around the history of the socio-economic and cultural impact of the Tri-Commission. He’s now determined to scrutinize the books he had referenced, seeking out the specific passages so he can construct his own review paper, one that disputes the boy's conclusions.

Perhaps it's a tad bit petty, but he couldn't care less.

After an hour or so of sifting through poorly written and dull texts, mental exhaustion starts to set in. His gaze lifts to where you're seated, and he notices that you're on the verge of dozing off. Your eyelids droop, and you unconsciously lean towards the book you're reading.

He can't help but find it foolishly stupid — your unwavering dedication to academics that drains you to such an extent.

Yet, in this particular moment, his icy heart, scarred by past experiences, seems to thaw as he watches you.  Eventually, you surrender to the drowsiness, your head leaning against the wall. He stays in his spot for a moment, confused by the inexplicable warmth he feels towards you — you've only crossed paths twice, and he doesn't even know your name.

When you start shivering, your Akademiya robes not offering sufficient protection against the chilly air seeping from the library’s walls, he doesn’t even think as he rises from his own spot, removing his tunic. He drapes it over your slumbering form.

He’s even more baffled by his own actions as gathers your scattered materials and arranges them neatly on the table.

Finally, he takes a seat beside you. His own body lacks warmth, therefore, he cannot shield you from the cold, but he allows you to lean against him. It’s as if you sensed his presence and an unconscious desire to close the gap between you overtook you. He sighs, adjusting your head to prevent any neck soreness after your nap.

The two of you remain like that for a while, and he's surprised to discover that he doesn't recoil from physical contact. At least, not when it comes from you.

Scaramouche lets you enjoy the nap, aware of your need for rest. You sleep peacefully, faintly snoring. When he decides it’s time for you to leave, not wanting to have you traverse the city’s streets so late at night, he gently disentangles himself from you and rises.

"Rtawahist," he calls out as you stir. You blink up at him, your eyes heavy with sleep and mild confusion. It takes a few moments for you to fully awaken, and he watches as your eyes widen before you avert your gaze bashfully, embarrassed by being caught napping in the library. "Go home and get some proper sleep."

Scaramouche can't help but feel a bit self-conscious, as if he's suddenly become aware of his own actions. He strides away from your secluded corner.

"Hey, wait! Vahumana guy, wait!" you yell, voice still tinged with sleepiness. However, he doesn't turn back, already on his way out of the library. You blink in confusion, fingers fiddling with the extra clothing draped over you — it's the white tunic with blue accents that you'd seen him wear before.

As you stand up and begin gathering your belongings, you’re further taken aback by how neatly they are organized.

That night, as you stroll past the dimly lit streets of Sumeru City, you think that perhaps this may have been one of the most refreshing naps you've experienced in months, if not longer.

The third time he meets you, he finally learns your name.

Nightfall had fallen, the clear sky adorned with countless twinkling stars. The songs of Dusk Birds fill the humid air, echoing through the rainforest, and tiny critters scurry about in the shadows of the lush foliage.

Scaramouche is returning from a mission given by Nahida — intelligence from numerous travelers had revealed multiple hidden Fatui camps, and his task was to determine their intentions and eliminate the threat. 

Strangely, he doesn’t feel tired; he doesn't feel anything at all. His mind is numb. He knows he should be experiencing some sort of emotion after encountering the soldiers proudly donning the Fatui insignia — perhaps anger or revulsion — but instead, there is a hollow void where his heart should have been.

He passes by a hilichurl camp, the savage beasts sitting around a campfire. Their leader, nearly thrice their side, senses his presence and roars, raising his ax. The entire pack rises, each wielding their own weapon, ready to confront the intruder that dares to trespass on their territory.

Scaramouche barely lifts a finger, sending sharp wind blades towards the creatures. They fall to the ground, unconscious. He stares silently at their grotesque forms, repulsion rising in his throat.

"Hey! Vahumana guy!" A familiar voice rings out. He looks up from his position, body freezing as he spots you waving from a nearby cliff. Anger surges within him — how reckless could you be, wandering through the forest littered with roaming territorial Rishboland Tigers and wild hilichurls?

“You idiot,” he yells back, using his Anemo Vision to propel himself towards you. He lands at your feet, and you let out a shriek, clearly not expecting him to soar through the air. 

Your eyes lock on the glowing teal Vision pinned alongside a singular gold feather. "Oh," you manage to mumble. “You have a Vision.”

Scaramouche dismissed your comment. “You foolish Rtawahist,” he continues to berate you. “How irresponsible must you be to wander alone in the rainforest at night?”

“I’m perfectly fine. In case you didn't notice, I'm here to gather data for a paper I'm writing.” You gesture towards the spot you’d arranged on the grassy cliff — a cozy blanket adorned with snacks and a thermos, as well as star charts, maps, and your tools, including a shiny astrolabe, a small old telescope, and a planisphere. “And also to enjoy the breeze and the clear night sky,” you add bashfully.

"Didn't you see the hilichurl camp below you?" Scaramouche demands angrily.

“They were all sitting around the fire! They couldn’t have attacked me!” you counter.

"Do all Rtawahists have a death wish, or is it just you?"

"First of all, stop calling me Rtawahist. I have a name, and it's Y/N," you say with an eye roll. "And since you're already here, why not take a seat and enjoy the night sky with me?" You gently grasp his hands, and lead him towards your cluttered spot. Scaramouche allows you to guide him, remaining silent.

You settle on the blanket, making some room for him. “I never got your name, Vahumana guy.”

"You may call me Kunikuzushi."

“Hmm,” you muse, pronouncing the name slowly, syllable by syllable. “I like it.”

Scaramouche doesn’t quite understand why he had shared his old name with you — he had believed he had moved past that part of his life. Yet, hearing the way you pronounce his name stirs something warm and comforting within the depths of his stone-cold heart.

You adjust your position and point towards a constellation. "That is Peregrinus, a constellation said to represent the free spirit of exploration and self-discovery."

Scaramouche stays silent, listening to you ramble about the stars twinkling in the night sky, the constellations and their deeper meanings. He notices your voice grow drowsy, and soon, you are nearly mumbling your sentences.

You struggle to repress a yawn. "By the way, I never got to thank you for the tunic, nor did I get the chance to return it."

Scaramouche chuckles softly as he watches you drift to sleep moments after finishing your sentence. He watches as you snuggle closer to him, head resting against his chest.

Author's note: being an overworked STEM student myself, I can totally relate to Reader 😪

Do I have 3 chapters and 1 lab protocol on Genetics, and 2 chapters and 3 research papers on Psychology to read for this week? Yes. Am I procrastinating reading them by writing this? Yes, again 😋