#*gets plummeted into the ground*
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intended to do a little sketch but it snowballed into a colored piece aeeueuueâ âŚď¸đŞ˛


uwaaahh and some doodles both old and new
#back then i struggled drawing canon scarab a lot#i meanâŚ. i still do but am LEARNING (ภâ˘Ě_â˘Ě)ŕ¸#huzzah!#prohibitedwish#scarab#scarab the god auditor#prismo#prismo the wishmaster#fionna and cake#adventure time#inky doods#inky art#same meâŚscarab save meâŚ.#*gets plummeted into the ground*
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08:27
#â
#i fly out to the uk today#and i get a particular worry about flying (one of you knows)#it's not so much a worry about being off the ground#but more about whether i'll come plummeting down#>_>#with this being my first international flight since i was a kid#it's safe to say that i'm only just a little worried agsjdkh#i'm so very excited though !! i think this'll be a really fun trip :>
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so what if i go insane and draw diakko as these panels
#so like we know how akko probably has low self-esteem post chariot reveal right#like she went all this way only to find out everything she knew was a fraud#but still powers thru lona and sorta has semi-self deprecating thoughts like kana has occasionally#diana doesnt comfort her and they get into a fight and it turns into this#*twirls hair* so like i just wanna make them suffer~#diana is so hellbent on repressing her feelings that inadvertently plummets akko's own self esteem#but akko's own source of comfort of self is that diana considers her a friend and rival but then diana avoids her and starts dating andrew#and akko's own sense of self gets WORSE and she doesnt find much to comfort#knowing it was all for naught because what she thought she had in her was just stolen long ago#like sure she saved magic and all but like it was surely traumatic for her#so wants something to confide in that no it wasnt a mistake#BUT THEN DIANA just doesnt interact with her anymore#and she tries her hardest to befriend her again after their rocky start and thought diana would be ok but then#uh oh diana catches feelings and stays away and akko's heart just breaks when diana does anything and everything to avoid her#akko after diana pushes her to the ground: do you... really hate me that much?#âyoure right im still so stupid diana im sorry i wont talk to you againâ#and diana just sits there in the rain like shinji on the chair LOL#diakko#aqukana#lwa#onk#little witch academia#oshi no ko#diana cavendish#akko kagari#hoshino aqua#arima kana#*eats this panels like peter eating burger meme* exquisite angst *gets food poisoning*
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i think iâm getting better at shielding myself from it though i can calm down pretty quick but like god is it triggering when iâm being screamed at and backed into corners and things are being thrown i go from âiâm fineâ to âi am going to dieâ in .5 seconds itâs so frustrating
#if he tries to physically attack me everything goes out the window i will defend myseld#but this is a guy whoâs much taller/bigger/stronger heâs literally picked me up and thrown me to the ground then started plummeting me#not that long ago lol !#(bc i wanted to get a game for my ds. yeah that was the whole reason. he got that angry over MY property)#absolute fucking insanity and this guy thinks heâs in the right
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Alice Perrers as Icarus and the sun
#alice perrers#edward iii#sun = lady of the sun. the most powerful woman in the country. a queen in all but name. the first and last of her kind.#Icarus = she dared; she reached too high; she grasped the sun. she soared on brilliant wings of dust#and when the sun set she plummeted to the ground#what does that mean?#it means that she had a meteoric rise - from a commoner to a damsel to a royal mistress to a queen in all but name.#she was loved by the king with the sun burst as his emblem. she attained ultimate glory#but that glory was both real and an illusion - it was power that was given not legitimate authority she possessed#she was a quasi queen but she could have never ever been a queen. it both shaped her and it doomed her#so when the sun set - when the King died - she fell! she crashed to the ground. she was cast out and nearly destroyed#she died forgotten and abandoned#but for a moment she was glorious#if that isn't sun-coded AND Icarus-coded I don't know what is#14th century#my post#(i can usually be much more poetic but this has just ended up sounding silly instead.#oh well#hopefully people still get the drift)
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There is very little standing in between Ortho and him causing a fuckin Incident at Night Raven over Idia, and 94% of it is Idia himself.
#hc; Ortho#//See now#//I say hc; but this is basically canon jhgktg#//Lil bro straight up started a COUNTDOWN bc ppl were laughing at Idy#//What was he going to do at the end of it; WE WILL NEVER KNOW#//And we're better off not knowing lmao#//Lil bro threatened to d0xx errbody who didn't help get Idy back when he got snatched#//I bet; bro would fucken laser someone's broom midflight class and let them plummet if it weren't for Idy#//MAYBE would catch them before the hit the ground like 'That was a Warning :) Don't provoke me/Big Brother again :)))'#//Bro would look a bully dead in the eye and quote the name of their most watched AV or secret account and watch them SQUIRM#//They think they can get away with anything of they mess with him OR Idy?#//THEIR DIGITAL FOOTPRINT IS HIS TO EXPLOIT#//Anywho; back to post subject kjdbfdg#//Lil bro most definitely got a calander thing started for him kjfngtg#//A '[x] days since last Ortho incident Prevention' or smth#//It never goes higher than 2 days lmao#//But yeah#//The only thing stopping him is the idea that if he goes too far; he MIGHT get expelled/be forced to leave#//& he can't just LEAVE his Big Brother Idy behind! Who would help look after him! :(#//As if Or wouldn't redownload himself somewhere like Idy's PC or his phone to do so anyway#//dbkrdg#//My favorite little menace
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It actually makes a lot of sense that Bruce was one of the few people left standing in the crowd at Halyâs Circus when Dickâs parents died.
Watching two innocent people plummet to their deaths is gruesome. Itâs shocking. It can be horribly traumatic, depending on the blunt force trauma of hitting the ground. They might not have died right away. They might have bled and made awful noises that were heard even above the sounds of the crowd.
But Bruce is Batman. Bruce saw his parents get murdered right in front of him. And he knows the sounds and sights of someone dying. Heâs hardened himself to stay calm in a situation like that, both through trauma and practice.
I think the image of a young Dick Grayson making eye contact with the one unshaken person in the crowd is chilling. A man standing resolute when everyone else is screaming, sadness etched across his face. But not panic. Not confusion. Resignation, maybe.
#yada yada#morning thoughts#saw a comic panel and got carried away#anyway i might write this if anyone wants to hear more#bruce wayne#batman#dc#dick grayson#Robin#flying graysons#halyâs circus#tw injuries#tw character death
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"The man who has called climate change a âhoaxâ also can be expected to wreak havoc on federal agencies central to understanding, and combating, climate change. But plenty of climate action would be very difficult for a second Trump administration to unravel, and the 47th president wonât be able to stop the inevitable economy-wide shift from fossil fuels to renewables.Â
âThis is bad for the climate, full stop,â said Gernot Wagner, a climate economist at the Columbia Business School. âThat said, this will be yet another wall that never gets built. Fundamental market forces are at play.â
A core irony of climate change is that markets incentivized the wide-scale burning of fossil fuels beginning in the Industrial Revolution, creating the mess humanity is mired in, and now those markets are driving a renewables revolution that will help fix it. Coal, oil, and gas are commodities whose prices fluctuate. As natural resources that humans pull from the ground, thereâs really no improving on them â engineers canât engineer new versions of coal.Â
By contrast, solar panels, wind turbines, and appliances like induction stoves only get better â more efficient and cheaper â with time. Energy experts believe solar power, the price of which fell 90 percent between 2010 and 2020, will continue to proliferate across the landscape. (Last year, the United States added three times as much solar capacity as natural gas.) Heat pumps now outsell gas furnaces in the U.S., due in part to government incentives. Last year, Maine announced it had reached its goal of installing 100,000 heat pumps two years ahead of schedule, in part thanks to state rebates. So if the Trump administration cut off the funding for heat pumps that the IRA provides, states could pick up the slack.Â
Local utilities are also finding novel ways to use heat pumps. Over in Massachusetts, for example, the utility Eversource Energy is experimenting with ânetworked geothermal,â in which the homes within a given neighborhood tap into water pumped from underground. Heat pumps use that water to heat or cool a space, which is vastly more efficient than burning natural gas. Eversource and two dozen other utilities, representing about half of the countryâs natural gas customers, have formed a coalition to deploy more networked geothermal systems.
Beyond being more efficient, green tech is simply cheaper to adopt. Consider Texas, which long ago divorced its electrical grid from the national grid so it could skirt federal regulation. The Lone Star State is the nationâs biggest oil and gas producer, but it gets 40 percent of its total energy from carbon-free sources. âTexas has the most solar and wind of any state, not because Republicans in Texas love renewables, but because itâs the cheapest form of electricity there,â said Zeke Hausfather, a research scientist at Berkeley Earth, a climate research nonprofit. The next top three states for producing wind power â Iowa, Oklahoma, and Kansas â are red, too.
State regulators are also pressuring utilities to slash emissions, further driving the adoption of wind and solar power. As part of Californiaâs goal of decarbonizing its power by 2045, the state increased battery storage by 757 percent between 2019 and 2023. Even electric cars and electric school buses can provide backup power for the grid. That allows utilities to load up on bountiful solar energy during the day, then drain those batteries at night â essential for weaning off fossil fuel power plants. Trump could slap tariffs on imported solar panels and thereby increase their price, but that would likely boost domestic manufacturing of those panels, helping the fledgling photovoltaic manufacturing industry in red states like Georgia and Texas.
The irony of Bidenâs signature climate bill is states that overwhelmingly support Trump are some of the largest recipients of its funding. That means tampering with the IRA could land a Trump administration in political peril even with Republican control of the Senate, if not Congress. In addition to providing incentives to households (last year alone, 3.4 million American families claimed more than $8 billion in tax credits for home energy improvements), the legislation has so far resulted in $150 billion of new investment in the green economy since it was passed in 2022, boosting the manufacturing of technologies like batteries and solar panels. According to Atlas Public Policy, a research group, that could eventually create 160,000 jobs. âSomething like 66 percent of all of the spending in the IRA has gone to red states,â Hausfather said. âThere certainly is a contingency in the Republican party now thatâs going to support keeping some of those subsidies around.â
Before Bidenâs climate legislation passed, much more progress was happening at a state and local level. New York, for instance, set a goal to reduce its greenhouse gas emissions from 1990 levels by 40 percent by 2030, and 85 percent by 2050. Colorado, too, is aiming to slash emissions by at least 90 percent by 2050. The automaker Stellantis has signed an agreement with the state of California promising to meet the stateâs zero-emissions vehicle mandate even if a judicial or federal action overturns it. It then sells those same cars in other states.Â
âState governments are going to be the clearest counterbalance to the direction that Donald Trump will take the country on environmental policy,â said Thad Kousser, co-director of the Yankelovich Center for Social Science Research at the University of California, San Diego. âCalifornia and the states that ally with it are going to try to adhere to tighter standards if the Trump administration lowers national standards.â
[Note: One of the obscure but great things about how emissions regulations/markets work in the US is that automakers generally all follow California's emissions standards, and those standards are substantially higher than federal standards. Source]
Last week, 62 percent of Washington state voters soundly rejected a ballot initiative seeking to repeal a landmark law that raised funds to fight climate change. âDonald Trumpâs going to learn something that our opponents in our initiative battle learned: Once people have a benefit, you canât take it away,â Washington Governor Jay Inslee said in a press call Friday. âHe is going to lose in his efforts to repeal the Inflation Reduction Act, because governors, mayors of both parties, are going to say, âThis belongs to me, and youâre not going to get your grubby hands on it.ââ
Even without federal funding, states regularly embark on their own large-scale projects to adapt to climate change. California voters, for instance, just overwhelmingly approved a $10 billion bond to fund water, climate, and wildfire prevention projects. âThat will be an example,â said Saharnaz Mirzazad, executive director of the U.S. branch of ICLEI-Local Governments for Sustainability. âYou can use that on a state level or local level to have [more of] these types of bonds. You can help build some infrastructure that is more resilient.â
Urban areas, too, have been major drivers of climate action: In 2021, 130 U.S. cities signed a U.N.-backed pledge to accelerate their decarbonization. âHaving an unsupportive federal government, to say the least, will be not helpful,â said David Miller, managing director at the Centre for Urban Climate Policy and Economy at C40, a global network of mayors fighting climate change. âIt doesnât mean at all that climate action will stop. It wonât, and weâve already seen that twice in recent U.S. history, when Republican administrations pulled out of international agreements. Cities step to the fore.â
And not in isolation, because mayors talk: Cities share information about how to write legislation, such as laws that reduce carbon emissions in buildings and ensure that new developments are connected to public transportation. They transform their food systems to grow more crops locally, providing jobs and reducing emissions associated with shipping produce from afar. âIf anything,â Miller said, âhaving to push against an administration, like that we imagine is coming, will redouble the efforts to push at the local level.âÂ
Federal funding â like how the U.S. Forest Service has been handing out $1.5 billion for planting trees in urban areas, made possible by the IRA â might dry up for many local projects, but city governments, community groups, and philanthropies will still be there. âYou picture a web, and weâre taking scissors or a machete or something, and chopping one part of that web out,â said Elizabeth Sawin, the director of the Multisolving Institute, a Washington, D.C.-based nonprofit that promotes climate solutions. âThereâs this resilience of having all these layers of partners.â
All told, climate progress has been unfolding on so many fronts for so many years â often without enough support from the federal government â that it will persist regardless of who occupies the White House. âThis too shall pass, and hopefully we will be in a more favorable policy environment in four years,â Hausfather said. âIn the meantime, weâll have to keep trying to make clean energy cheap and hope that it wins on its merits.â"
-via Grist, November 11, 2024. A timely reminder.
#climate change#climate action#climate anxiety#climate hope#united states#us politics#donald trump#fuck trump#inflation reduction act#clean energy#solar power#wind power#renewables#good news#hope
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Desperate Measures
Summary: When you encounter a mysterious substance during a mission, it forces you and your mission partner to get closer.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger F. Reader
Warnings: Quinjet crash. Sex pollen. Smut. Slight choking. Brief fucking with a gun. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.
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You curse Nick Fury for what feels like the millionth time in the past three years. He had a "brilliant" idea, mission partners. When there was a world threat all of the Avengers would assemble. But when it came to smaller stuff like mobs, small Hydra threats, or robberies, he wanted just a few of you to take care of it.
Fury paired everyone based on their skills, their background, astrology, and other secret factors he wasn't willing to share. The idea came shortly after you joined the team, making an even number of people on the Avengers. You received copies of each other's files. You were supposed to spend most of your time with them at first to learn everything about them.
Fury wanted you to be able to almost read your mission partner's mind, to anticipate every move they made on the field. You should know them better than you know yourself. Which would have been great, except you got paired with Bucky Barnes, the former brainwashed assassin. He hated you, and you weren't even sure why. But the moment you met him, he was cold to you. He wasn't normally the friendliest anyways, but he had it out for you specifically.
He would smile and laugh with Steve and Sam. He was more guarded with the others, but he tolerated them, not you though. He fought with you all the time over nothing usually. So three years ago when Fury assigned you to be his mission partner, Bucky was furious. He complained to Fury, trying to switch. Fury immediately shot him down. He told him if he didn't like it, there was the door. After Steve talked to him, he begrudgingly accepted his fate.
You fought more often than not, an occurrence the other Avengers were used to. Youâd argue the whole way on a mission. But when you were working together, you both could end your petty squabbles until it was completed. Then youâd be back at it the second it was over.
This time was no different. Bucky was flying the quinjet while you looked over a map of the Hydra facility you were going to. Your mission was simple. Break in, get the files, and get out. The building was located in Italy. You and Bucky both agreed once you got the files, you would part ways and explore the city. You were excited. The food, the culture, the men were all calling you. You packed a new dress just for the occasion.
You were pulled out of your thoughts when the quinjet made a noise that made a shiver run up your spine. The lights on the dash started blinking rapidly. Beeping filled the jet as you looked to Bucky. âNot a fucking word.â He barked at you, his metal fingers frantically pressing buttons.
The jet started to spin in the air. Bucky cursed as he tried to steady the wheel. It was no use, you were going down. You sat straight up in your seat holding onto your seatbelt for dear life. Of course, you would die with the person you hate most in the world. Karma was a bitch and you werenât sure what you did to deserve this fate. The jet whipped around in the sky before plummeting to the ground.
After the initial shock wore off, you opened your eyes hesitantly. You must be dead. You hit way too hard and fell fast. The first thing you see is Bucky who quickly unbuckles himself and stands. Oh great, this must be hell. Youâre gonna be stuck with him for all eternity. âNot that Iâd have a problem with it, but if you donât want to be here when the jet explodes, you better get out now.â Bucky tells you as he uses his metal hand to pry open a caved in wall and crawl out. You follow him with no hesitation.
Bucky walks a good distance away from the wreckage with you in tow. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls Nick Fury letting him know what happened. After a few minutes, he hangs up. âWhat did he say?â You ask hoping someone was on their way to get you. âOur coordinates show that we arenât far from the Hydra facility. Fury said do the mission and he will have somewhere for us to spend the night when we are done. Someone will come get us tomorrow.â
âAll our stuff is on the jet, are we not gonna get to go out like we planned?â You whined. You knew you were being selfish, but you had been dreaming of going out after the mission ever since you found out about it a month ago. Bucky shoots you a glare. âNo, Princess. We arenât going out after this.â
He rolls his eyes at you. You put your hands on your hips, pissed off at the nickname he calls you. âPrincessâ wouldnât be a horrible nickname. But the way he used it made you furious. He said you were spoiled and bratty. So he had given you the nickname three years ago after you became mission partners.
He uses his phone to find the location of the Hydra facility. You followed him the whole time, flipping him off or making faces behind his back as he berated you for still wanting to go out. When you make it to your destination, Bucky turns around and gives you that signature glare. âIf you donât stop flipping me off and sticking your tongue out at me, I will break your fingers and rip out your tongue.â
Your heart dropped as you realized he knew what you had been up to the whole time. Before you could defend yourself, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you inside the building. He led the way through the dark. It was silent and it seemed like you were alone. You finally found the main computer. He stood guard as you pulled up the files and downloaded them to the device Fury gave you. When you were done, you shut down the computer and handed Bucky the device. He pocketed it and started walking toward the exit.
A loud siren started going off, blue lights flashed through the building. A chemical scent filled your nostrils. You look up to see red smoke descending from the ceiling. It was everywhere. You start to panic. It was probably some poison designed to kill whoever broke in here. Bucky was half way to the door when you finally realized you should move. You ran to him as he pulled on the door. âItâs locked.â He told you. Your heart beat faster as the red smoke slowly got closer to you.
Bucky started kicking the door until the wood splintered under his leather boots. You follow him to the front of the building, the red smoke almost face level with you now. He runs at the front door using his strength to break it down, but not before the smoke surrounded both of you. You both cough as it fills your lungs. He wraps his flesh hand around your arm, dragging you behind him.
You walk a good mile before you decide to speak up. âWas that poison?â You ask him, scared for what was to come. âHow the hell should I know?â His hateful reply pissed you off. âIâm so angry that Iâm gonna die with you of all people!â
âIâm not. I canât wait to watch you take your last breath. Iâll fight to stay alive until you do. Then I can die peacefully.â You open your mouth to reply when his phone starts ringing. He answers it, telling who you presumed was Fury about the mission. He asked about the red smoke but it didnât sound like Fury had the answers. When he hung up, he turned to you. âHe sent me the location of the safe house. We are going to go there while Bruce and Tony try to figure out what the smoke was.â
When you arrive at the safe house, youâre actually impressed. Usually it would be some shack in the woods. But this was a nice house. It was clean, it smelled nice. Most importantly, the kitchen was full of ramen, canned food and water. You made dinner for the two of you, bringing him a bowl of ramen as he accepted a video call from Tony.
Tony was smiling so wide, his face looked like it might split in half. âI got good news and bad news, kiddos.â He waits a second before speaking again. âThe good news is, youâre not going to die.â You let out a breath you didnât know you were holding at that revelation. âThe bad news is it was a sex drug.â Bucky and you look at each other, confusion on both of your faces. Tony bursts into laughter.
âIâm gonna assume, you donât know what I mean?â You both shake your heads as Tony continues. âWell, the sex drug enhances all your senses. Youâre going to be horny if a breeze blows by. And it will be unbearable. Youâll feel like youâre going to die if you donât have sex. And you will. The drug is designed to make your body so hot that a high fever will set in. It will boil your brain if you donât have sex. Donât bother touching yourselves, that wonât work. You have to sleep with someone to make the side effects go away.â Tony cackles as he looks at the shocked looks on your faces.
He looks at his watch. âYou should have about an hour before it sets in. And probably four after that before it kills you. So good luck.â He laughs before hanging up. The silence between you and Bucky is filled with tension. Both of you unsure of what this situation will bring.
You finish your dinner without saying a word to each other. But you canât take it anymore. âDo you think heâs right?â Bucky considers your question for a moment, his blue eyes focusing on you. âYeah, he wouldnât lie to us.â You take a deep breath. âWe have about thirty minutes before we start to feel it. What are we gonna do?â
âIm going to take a shower and go to bed.â You look at him incredulously. âBucky, he said we will die if we donât have sex. Thereâs gotta be a bar around here or something. We can go out and find someone to sleep with.â You offer a reasonable solution. Bucky chuckles, âWe are in the middle of nowhere. Thereâs no one around for miles. And Iâm sure as hell not fucking you.â He spits the words at you like venom.
âI donât want you anywhere near me. But we donât have a choice.â You fire back, but Bucky ignores you, walking to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. You go into the bedroom with the en-suite bathroom and take a shower too. You can feel your body start to heat up. You turn the water as cool as it can get. When you dry off, your skin is sensitive. You can feel yourself getting wet just from the towel touching you.
You look through the drawers, knowing that there was usually clothes in there just in case. You were so hot you were starting to feel like not putting any clothes on at all. But you settled on a thin, white tank top and a pair of red panties. Your hard nipples rubbed against the fabric of the tank top making you moan. You lay on the bed and check your phone. The symptoms were just now setting in, and you were already miserable.
You closed your eyes, trying to sleep. Maybe Bucky was onto something. If you could sleep through your death, it might not be so bad. But sleep never came. You tossed and turned, you touched yourself. But nothing would suppress the horrible ache between your thighs. Your panties were practically stuck to you, they were so soaked. You checked the time again, realizing you only had an hour and a half before your imminent demise.
You stand up on shaky legs and walk to the bedroom Bucky was in. Desperate times called for desperate measures. You knock on the door gently at first, but after a few minutes pass with no answer, you try the door handle. Itâs locked. You beat your fists against the door. âBucky let me in. Iâll do all the work. You can close your eyes, pretend Iâm someone else. We can put bags on our heads. But I need you to fuck me right now.â
He opens the door, his long hair in a messy bun, his blue eyes dark with lust. Heâs naked, his hard cock on full display. âBucky, please. I know we hate each other, but we have to. I canât take this.â He doesnât say anything as he grabs you with his metal hand slinging you onto the bed. You gasp as your back hits the mattress. Bucky towers over you looking at your body hungrily. His gaze lingers on your breasts. Your nipples are so hard, youâre surprised they havenât cut through your tank top.
âIf we are doing this, we do it my way.â He grumbles. You just lay there, willing to do whatever he wants. He walks over to the nightstand, grabbing his pistol and walking back to you. âWhat are you doing with that?â You ask wide eyed. âShut the fuck up.â He growls. You swallow hard as he brings the gun down over your torso.
He grips your tank top between his large hands and pulls. The rip of the fabric echoes through the silence. He moves above you, bringing his head to your breasts. He captures a nipple between his lips, pulling it with his teeth. You cry out as he soothes the pain with his tongue, lapping at it gently.
He jerks your panties down your legs, discarding them behind him. âGod, Princess, youâre soaked.â He runs the muzzle of the pistol through your folds. The cold metal making you shiver. He positions it slightly, sliding the barrel into you with ease. âBucky! Whatâs with the gun?â He smirks as he works the weapon in and out of you. âI donât want to touch you yet.â He shrugs, maneuvering the barrel causing it to hit your g-spot. Your toes curl and you arch up off the bed.
Bucky grabs you back down, his vibranium arm laying across your stomach to hold you in place. He removes the pistol, looking at it in awe. Itâs covered with you. His tongue darts out to lick your arousal off it. He moans as he sucks all of you off his weapon. âYou taste so good, Princess.â
You gasp as he jerks your legs apart, fingers digging into your flesh. Youâre dripping down your thighs, making it harder for him to keep hold of you. He lowers his head, lapping up your arousal from your thighs. When he finally makes it to where you need him most, he wastes no time. His lips and tongue feasting on you like heâs ravenous. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly as he pulls a forceful orgasm out of you.
He stands, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Bucky is fully inside you with one forceful thrust. You gasp at the delicious stretch. âFuck.â He whispers, a few loose strands of hair fall from his bun. You have to fight the urge to grab a piece between your fingers.
Buckyâs movements are erratic. Heâs like a wild animal. He lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder, the new angle causes him to hit even deeper. Youâre a mess, crying out his name, watching his face as he sets a brutal pace. The heat in your stomach becoming unbearable. You move your hips with him, matching his rhythm. He brings down his vibranium hand, touching over your chest before bringing it to your neck.
He squeezes lightly at first before adding more pressure. Your eyes roll back in your head. This was all too much. The way his big body pressed you against the mattress. The way he was looking at you. The way his vibranium hand was wrapped around your throat. How he fit so perfectly, it was like you were made to take him. You clench around him, causing his movements to falter. He is getting sloppy.
You wrap the leg not on his shoulder around his waist bringing him impossibly closer. You feel him spilling inside you sending you over the edge with him. He removes his hand from your neck, bringing it to your chin forcing you to look at him. âI hate you.â He whispers as he stills inside you. Bucky removes himself and stands between your legs. He gathers the cum dripping out of you with his middle and index fingers, forcing it back inside you. âI hate you too.â You say as your legs tremble from the intensity of it all.
Tags in the comments â¤ď¸
#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky smut#bucky#bucky fanfic#bucky x reader#bucky x yn smut#james bucky barnes#bucky x you#desperate measures#bucky fic#bucky barnes and reader#bucky marvel#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky x y/n#bucky x female reader#the winter soldier#the winter solider x reader#bucky x yn#bucky x reader smut#bucky x female yn#james buchanan barnes#bucky and reader#bucky au#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky fanfiction#bucky imagine#bucky mcu
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Fable - During

Pairing:Â Azriel x Reader
Summary:Â Azriel was too late, and something was brewing. The fate of your wings rested in the balance and there was nothing left of him to reconcile with.
Word count: 2.2k
Warnings: Angst, injury, violence
a/n: This is part of a mini-series but each part can be read on its own/out of order. The next part is going to be long guys <3 Thank you for reading all of this angst!!!
Series Masterlist (all parts âĄ)
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The ground beneath Azrielâs feet must have disappeared.Â
He was unstable, falling, plummeting into an unknown abyss.Â
When he looked down, Azriel saw the plush carpet at his feet, but as he replayed Rhysandâs wordsâfour words, echoingâthe blur behind his eyes made the physical obsolete. We canât find her, Rhysand had said, followed by a multitude of questions from Cassian that Azriel could not hear. Everything was buzzing and the carpet was gone.Â
Where was Lucien? Azriel remembered that Lucien was to go with you. Where was he?Â
He had to be dead because if he were alive and you were missing, Azriel would kill him himself.Â
âLucien,â Azriel spoke, his voice rough, interrupting the conversation he had not been part of.Â
âWhat?â Rhysand asked.Â
But Cassian ignored his High Lordâs confusion. âShe was never bringing Lucien,â he growled, throwing his brother a sneer. âShe only said that to make sure you went on your date. I told her I shouldâve come. I told herââÂ
Azriel had lost his breath. He was grappling for it, trying to make sense of Cassianâs words as his lungs began to burn, but you wouldnât do that, would you? Why would you lie to him? Over something like this?Â
âCassian, enough,â Azriel gasped, the buzzing of his brotherâs voice a constant barrier in the losing battle within his head. âWhoâs looking for her? Where should we go?âÂ
Azriel was dressed in a ridiculous button-up shirt with slacks that now felt too tight on his legs. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms and his shadows took advantage of the open space, trailing up to protect him from nothing. Because nothing was hereâhe wasnât in danger.Â
You were.Â
Azriel had only gotten through drinks with Elain before the call from his High Lord sent him into the sky. He couldnât remember if he apologized. Azrielâs shoes were pinching his feet.Â
âI had just lost connection with her when I called you. I sent her to the northeast camp. Thereâs a possibility thatââÂ
Azriel was traveling through the shadows, darkness consuming him before Rhysand could finish his sentence. He should have grabbed Cassian for backup, but that was a thought Azriel would only have much, much later.Â
His mind was on youâonly on you.Â
That wasnât unnatural for Azriel; you were one of the most important people in his life and you had been in trouble before. Life-threatening, war-induced trouble, but somehow, this felt different.Â
You had been distant lately.Â
Azriel had noticed, but Azriel had also been so zeroed in on getting Elainâs attention that he figured he would have time to check on you in a few weeks.Â
When he landed in the camp, the foreboding quiet made him consider that he might never get to check on you again. Illyrian camps were never quiet. There was always shouting or fighting or nagging mothers getting after their young. But the insects in the bushes could be heard in this camp, and Azriel paused amid his racing heart to make sense of the noise.Â
And then he heard the scream.Â
Your scream.
And he was running.Â
His shoes groaned as they pounded into soft dirt and you screamed again. Azriel had never heard that sound come from you. The way it erupted into the airâit was as if it was ripped from your throat, evoked from nothing but agony.Â
He pushed himself harder, faster, until the screams became closer and a small hut materialized on the horizon. The image of the quaint house brought Azriel relief, but that relief was short-lived because your screams had become tired in his journey. With each step, your voice broke more and more and Azriel didnât even feel angry.Â
The rage he expected to feel was consumed by the terror that gripped him.Â
He ripped open the door and that terror only increased tenfold.Â
Azriel was usually focused during battle, his mind razor-sharp. He was known for calculating every step, for remembering each life he took, and being able to recount each slice of his blade when asked for a report days later. Azriel was a warrior and a spy.Â
But Azriel could not remember his actions.Â
From the moment he opened the door and found you on the ground, surrounded by enemies and so broken, he lost the ability to calculate anything other than death.Â
He figured a few must have gotten away because he vaguely registered that the door made a sound. But over the screams, that sound was inconsequential, and with the image of you before him, lying in your blood, chest only minutely rising and falling, everything else was inconsequential.Â
He only remembered that the rage finally found him.Â
Only when bodies littered the floor did the anger make way for the visceral fear that came with reaching for youâgrabbing you as you let out small, weak sounds and took labored breaths.Â
âY/n?â Azriel stressed, eyes roving over your figure with haste that his hands couldn't match. He had to be careful; so much of you was broken. âY/n,â he spoke again, as if the echo of your name would somehow fix you, snap you out of the hurt.Â
Azrielâs breath quivered. His scarred hands hovered over your skin now, afraid to touch you more than to bring you into his arms. His fingers shook. Your wingsâit was your wings.Â
âYouâre okay,â Azriel affirmed, whispering only to himself. âYouâre okay. Youâre okay.âÂ
Salt tainted the surface of his tongue, and Azriel then recognized that he was crying. Fat, heavy tears blurred his vision and fell into his mouth as he repeated his mantra into the stagnant air.Â
Your wings looked beyond repair. When Hybern destroyed Cassianâs, the roots remained. The delicate flesh was burned and torn, but regrowth was still feasible.
Only small pieces of the membrane along your back remained.Â
Azrielâs soul wept.Â
You groaned, and Azriel stopped his inspection of your back, his hands brushing your hair off from where it stuck to your skin.Â
âY/n?â he tried again. âCan you hear me? IâmâIâm going to bring you home, okay? Youâre going to be fine, I promise.âÂ
He shouldnât have promised that. His voice broke as he spoke the words and Azriel knew he shouldnât have promised that because you only let out a broken rendition of âmy wings?â that Azriel had no response to. He only squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to your temple before shadows consumed him once more. They had been rampaging around the pair, whispering worried, angry words in Azrielâs ear, but they remained faithful.Â
They brought you home.Â
Mor screamed first.Â
He assumed everyone would be out looking for you, but Azriel hadnât broken the connection to Rhysandâs mind, and they had been expecting him. His family stood before him as your blood stained the rug of his High Lordâs favorite sitting room. Rhysand was missing, gone to retrieve Madja, but Azriel was only looking for those he knew could help you.Â
His throat caught on air as he frantically searched for Feyre in the room. When he saw her wide eyes, he let out a desperate, âHelp her,â that sounded nothing like him. His High Ladyâs shoulders rose and fell with hurried panic as she came forward and then hesitated.Â
Azriel heard someone vomit in the corner of the roomâCassian, he thoughtâand Mor came to kneel beside him.Â
âFeyre,â he sobbed. âPlease. Please, try.âÂ
Mor was crying. Cassian had wiped his mouth and come to stand beside Feyre, but everyone was too afraid to touch you. You rested in Azrielâs arms, but even his palms remained face up and did not connect with your skin. He would break you more, he was sure of it. Your wings bent at odd angles and hung from your body by only tethered threads and no one knew what to do.Â
Azriel thought that dying would be better than this.Â
His button-up was stained red.Â
âFuck.â Rhysandâs voice rattled the air in the House. At some point, Feyre had broken her hesitancy and kneeled before you, a gentle glow emitting from her hands as she tried to stitch together the broken remains of your skin. When her mate appeared with the elder healer, she turned wild eyes towards him. Rhysand stood frozen, mimicking each person in the room, but he was the High Lordâa composed leaderâso his reverie lasted only seconds before he was sent into action.Â
âThe table,â Rhysand demanded. âLay her on the table.âÂ
No one moved.Â
Azriel couldnât stop looking at you.Â
Madja then spoke, no, demanded, âNow.âÂ
The table was cleared, everything swiped to the floor with abandon. As gently as he could, Azriel rose from the floor on shaking legs and heaved you up with him, offering soft apologies as you cried out. He wished you would pass out from the pain, be free of it all, but the agonizing reality that you might not wake up struck him harder.Â
âIâm so sorry, y/n,â he whispered against your hair. His body ached. Azriel leaned you against the table as the other members of his family turned you on your stomach. He kneeled to meet your lidded gaze, your face pressed against the wood. âMadjaâs going to fix it, okay?âÂ
The healer was giving ordersâCassian to get water, Mor to support your head, Feyre for support. It was all a buzz in Azrielâs ears. He licked his lips and tried to meet your eyes, but they were trailing off, unfocused.Â
âY/n?â he tried. âAngel?â A name he had dropped once Elain came into the picture. Your lashes fluttered. His attention peaked. âItâs okay, angel. Iâm so, so sorry. Iâm sorryââÂ
Azriel was torn from his position on the ground, a heavy hand shoving him up and against the wall. His shadows remained caressing your skin, but a fist met Azriel's face and he lost sight of you.Â
âThis is your fault.âÂ
âCassian!â Mor called, desperately pleading with no one.Â
âIt is,â Cassian seethed, his arm pressed to the Shadowsingerâs throat. âIf he hadnât been searching for something with a woman not even meant to be his, he would have been there. She would have said anything to ensure your happiness. Anything, Azriel.âÂ
Azriel blinked and Cassianâs face was inches from his own. âI didnâtââÂ
âYou have been blinded, brother. Youâve been blind for years and now this is the price.âÂ
âI donâtâwhat are you saying?â Azriel pleaded, trying and failing to look over Cassianâs broad wings to catch a glimpse of you.Â
âCassian, this is not the time,â Mor scolded, but the anguish burned so deeply in Cassianâs eyes that Azriel could tell he wasnât hearing her.Â
âShe gave you everything,â his brother continued. âSheââÂ
Your scream punctuated the building tension in the room. Cassian whipped around and Azriel used the opportunity to shove him away, the Shadowsinger racing to your side once again. But, once again, he was pushed away. Rhysand held his shoulder back this time, shaking his head with a furrowed brow.Â
The screams echoed in the room and they hurt.Â
They hurt everyone.Â
Feyre and Mor stood beside Madja, the three of them set to the fruitless task of saving your wings. A small part of Azriel spoke the truth that they were also just trying to save you. You had lost so much blood and he still knew nothing of your other injuries.Â
âRhys,â Azriel begged, beseeching him with his gaze.Â
But Rhysand only shook his head once more. âThey need the space.âÂ
âShe needs me.âÂ
Cassian scoffed and ground his jaw, but a glance in the generalâs direction found only tears and the quivering of his lips as he pressed them together.Â
âYou need to let them work.âÂ
âThis is my fault,â Azriel spoke, his tone dead, lost within the echo of your screams. âI was seeing Elain,â he admitted. He met Rhysandâs eyes. âYou told me not to. She lied so I could go.âÂ
Rhysand didnât even look disappointed. He didnât look surprised. He only ticked his jaw to the side and breathed deeply through his nose as your screams filled the room once more.Â
Azriel flinched. The soles of his shoes were caked with blood and cracked along the stitches.Â
Rhysand would have the right to be angry. He had the right to send Azriel away and force him to sit in uncertainty and the consequences of the night, but Rhysand found something familiar in the Shadowsingerâs eyesâsomething different. Something that Rhysand could find in himself if he were to search his mind from the night he thought Feyre to be dead.Â
Impossible, the High Lord assumed, but you were still screaming and there was no time to inspect the intricacies of Azrielâs reaction.Â
So Rhysand only held back the maelstrom of his own emotions, his sister broken on the table just feet from him, and kept his response to that of a leader.Â
âLet them work, Azriel.â
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x female!reader#azriel x y/n#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel acotar#acotar#acotar fanfiction#azriel angst
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Hi! I would love an imagine for the boys that includes the reader getting held captive and they rescue her, maybe a little Angst to Fluff?
Love your work btw â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸
Only a little angst? Friend, I may have gone and made this more angsty with just a sprinkle of fluff. I can't help myself sometimes. So, fair warning to y'all, that it is angst-ridden with a bit of fluff at the end of each. Sorry?
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): angst, canon-typical violence, swearing, reunions, light fluff
Word Count: 1.7k
ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
John Price
Johnâs heart is thunderous, beating so loudly itâs like a bass drum in his ears.
To be successful, to execute this rescue with precision, he needs to remain calm, to be the leader he knows he is. Itâs not a lack of confidence, but a growing dread that he might be too late. There is no room to show fearâto let everyone in on how important this is.
Because it is important.
You are important.
Not just to the team but to him. Maybe the team knows. Laswell likely does, but the boys might not. Sure, they have suspicions, but you and John have always been discreet, have always tried to keep the relationship between the two of you private.
Now, with the mission ahead, all those secrets and subversion might overflow. Become known to everyone.
John breathes in through his nostrils, and exhales through his mouth. Box breathing. Itâs helping. But only a little.
âWeâre ready, Captain,â says Gaz, crouching beside him, gaze scanning the land before them.
Thereâs open ground and then a building. Someone stands guard near the door, head on a swivel. Soap silently appears next to Kyle, taking a knee. Simon is somewhere in the dark, ready to snipe every enemy in sight before they enter the building.
Price nods, and then speaks into the walkie. âYouâre clear, Ghost.â
âCopy.â
Seconds later, the man guarding the door jerks like heâs been electrified before crumpling silently to the ground. A few more moments and a body plummets from the top of the building, landing with a sickening crunch.
âNo signs of life,â comes Simonâs voice over the comms.
Soap snorts. âCheeky bastard.â
John wants to join in, but youâre consuming his every thought. Itâs only been twenty-four hours since you were taken, yet it feels like an eternity.
âLetâs move,â murmurs John.
They advance in unison with Simon emerging from the dark to bring up the rear. Entering the building is easy, but theyâll have to go slowly and silently inside. Up close and personal is the way to go in a place like this. One wrong move might spook the rest.
Kyle and Soap take the front, breaking necks and slicing throats. Itâs clean. Efficient.
John signals with his hand and everyone shifts down a different hall, heading toward the internal bunker. That is where theyâre holding you, along with other hostages.
A few more quick deaths and then John is kicking in the door.
There are screams. Shouts. Rapid gunfire.
John is already searching, seeking your face.
âTargets are down, sir,â shouts Soap.
There are cages. Rows of them. He searches each one, looking at every face.
âContact base and tell them we need civilian pickup,â says John.
âOn it,â answers Kyle, already leaning his head to the side to speak into his radio.
John searches. And searches.
âJohn.â Your voice cracks but itâs soothing. Soft.
He murmurs your name, going down on one knee, reaching through the bars to grasp your hand.
âIâm here,â he murmurs.
âI knew youâd come,â you reply, smiling. âI knew.â
With his back turned to the rest of his team, John silently mouths three little words. âI love you.â
John "Soap" MacTavish
Johnny is on the mission, but he isnât. Not really.
Heâs watching it all on monitors at a safe distance. Others are taking the lead. Others are executing the mission. And Johnny must step aside because while he is physically capable, heâs too emotionally invested.
Too explosive. Too irate. Too volatile.
But this is about you. Of course heâs going to be angry.
Yet here he is pacing, gaze glued on the screens, listening to the chatter. Every muscle is primed for movement, ready for action, but Johnny cannot expel the energy. Itâs buildingâshifting into anxiety.
âWhatâs taking so bloody long?â he growls.
Laswell glances over her shoulder at him. Though she appears calm, Johnny notices a small flicker of sympathy.
âTheyâre returning,â she replies. âWaiting on e-t-a.â
Johnnyâs pacing worsens.
âYouâre going to wear a path in the concrete,â says Laswell.
Johnny opens his mouth to reply, but the sound of helicopter blades reaches his ears. Itâs not loud, just a hint of sound, but as it increases, his heartrate spikes.
Laswell doesnât have to say anything. Johnny is already moving, rushing out to the landing pad, watching as the helicopter approaches and descends. The seconds pass in small eternities. Nikolai is in the pilotâs seat, and it is Captain Price who opens the sliding door just as the helicopter lands. Johnny is rushing forward, almost throwing himself inside in his search for you.
âJohnny.â Itâs Simon, his large hand coming down on Johnnyâs shoulder.
Johnny wants to tell him to move, to get the hell out of his way, but it is your voice that Johnny hears. As the helicopter blades slow, the air calms, and it is easier to understandâto recognize your familiar tone that Johnny has missed for all these days.
Thereâs a blanket around your shoulders and a sunken quality to your features that speaks to malnutrition. Other than that, you appear fine. Unharmed.
Johnny, no longer impeded by Simonâs hand, moves toward you, coming down on one knee. You immediately reach for him, and Johnny takes your hand. Youâre cold, and it pains him. Placing both of your hands between his, he brings them to his lips, brushing kisses along the knuckles, attempting to warm them with his own heat.
You bend forward, and as Johnny glances up, you rest your forehead against his.
The fight is over. Youâre here.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
There is a hunger in Simon.
Like the snake, he will consume his prey headfirst.
It is eerie how calm he isâhow focused. A mission is a mission is a missionâuntil it isnât. Until there is no target, no capture or kill, no sense of duty. This is all primal rage boiled down into a thick, viscus consistency. It is invisible, smeared over Simonâs eyes, drenches the world around him into a grey haze.
Simon could be the rapid dog let loose from a broken chain. Poisoned saliva. Bared teeth. Prone to biting.
The knife in his hand is bright and hot and burning. It itches for blood, for Simon to take these fuckers down a peg. He has it in him, but all Simon needs from his superior officer is the affirmative. And then, like the ghost he is, they wonât ever see him coming.
Come on, Price. Call it.
A part of him is missingâshredded. He did his best to protect you, to keep you secret from the world. Cruelty and deception move quickly though, and now your life is in danger.
Give the fucking word.
âPath is clear,â comes Captain Priceâs voice over the radio.
Itâs all the affirmation Simon needs. He is up and moving in seconds, a wraith in the dark, a silent shadow out for blood. His blade is his guide, sheering and cutting, leaving a trail of bodies behind him. There are no shouts, no cries of pain. Simon is clean, brutal, efficient.
But there is only one thingâone person on his mind. And thatâs you.
A set of stairs. A hall. Rooms. More stairs.
Ascending. Ascending. Ascending.
The rest of the team isnât far behind, but they stay back and leave Simon to it. They know this mission is for him. That heâs not only doing it for you but for himself.
Itâs a wonder his knife doesnât grow dull. It cuts true. Cuts clean. And it isnât until the last enemy has fallen that some of the tension in Simonâs muscles melts away. He has consumed his prey, and there is only a singular door left to open.
There is the moment before he opens it, a space of breath that feels like eternity packed into single moment. The hinges creak, revealing a tiny room no larger than a walk-in closet. And there you are, on your side, ankle chained to the wall.
âSimon?â
You sound so broken. SoâŚhollow.
As he sinks down onto one knee beside you, the unsteady confusion on your face gives way to hope. Simonâs arms reach out instinctively, wanting nothing more than to be around you. You throw yourself into him, and there is nothing sweeter in this moment.
âIâm here,â he whispers. âIâm here.â
Your sobs of joy nearly break him, nearly fracture Simon into pieces. But the fact that youâre alive, that you appear unharmedâat least physicallyâis more than he expected.
âIâm here,â he repeats, even as your tears stain his balaclava. âIâm here.â
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
It is impossible to measure the love you have for someone until theyâre taken from you.
Kyle thought he understood. Yet for these last few weeks, heâs been a fractured creature. A small illusion. A flicker of a man.
But youâre not gone, just far away. Alive, he hopes.
Alive, is what he repeats. A mantra in his head. If he says it enough, it will be true.
Price, Soap, and Ghost are in front of him, moving like shadows through the building while Kyle brings up the rear. With them beside him, there is calmness in the chaos, a softening to his chaotic emotions. They are his support, the ground that he can stand on.
Price motions, and then Ghost kicks in a door.
There are shouts first. Then gunfire. Then silence.
Each of them enters, walking amongst the corpses.
Price digs around in the pockets of one of the men, and then tosses a set of keys over to Ghost. Kyle is already following, moving into position as Ghost unlocks a nearby door. He points the firing end of his gun inside, and then steps back.
He glances at Kyle, and nods.
Lowering his weapon, Kyle pushes the door wide, the light bleeding into the dark, revealing a shape he knows well.
Kyleâs surroundings melt away, leaving only you. He cradles your cheeks, thumbs rubbing away the dirt and blood and tears. Youâre smiling, but there is red there, too.
âI knew youâd come for me.â
âAlways,â he whispers, voice cracking in pain.
Captain Price appears at his shoulder, glancing down at the two of you on the floor, face grim. He speaks into his radio. âI need a med evac now.â
âYouâre going to live,â reassures Kyle. âI promise.â
âPlease donât leave,â you murmur, fresh tears pooling in your eyes.
Kyle shakes his head. âNever. Iâll never leave again.â
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deep inside him, a voice whispered, if he catches me, iâllâŚ
âŚ
âthanks,â he said in a hoarse voice.
he wasnât scared of faking. he has fallen so many times over the years. but hitting the group still hurt.
i am going to have a fucking Event right now
#not only literally#with falling from the tree and plummeting into the burial mounds#but wei wuxian has lived his entire life in free fall#and the worst always comes when itâs that impact - that moment when thereâs no going back#like in the burial mounds with the wens. life was unpredictable and he did what he had to - and then jin zixuan dies#and then itâs over! heâs hit the ground! and thereâs no getting back up - thereâs no going back#itâs all over!#mdzs
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Katsuki x fem reader? Reader has a nightmare and he comforts her.
Safe With Him
The air feels heavier than it should. Like a weight pressing down on your chest, suffocating, crushing. You try to move, to run, but your limbs wonât listen. Shadows stretch and twist around you, faceless figures emerging from the darkness. Their hands reach for you, grasping, clawingâtoo strong, too many. A scream rises in your throat, but it dies before it can escape.
Thenâsuddenlyâyouâre falling.
The ground beneath you disappears, and your stomach lurches as you plummet into nothingness. Cold air rushes past your skin, the terror stealing every last breath from your lungs. You brace for impact, but it never comes.
Just an endless, suffocating void.
And thenâ
You wake up.
A sharp gasp rips through your chest, your body jerking upright as if yanked from the nightmare by invisible hands. The room is dark, but your eyes are wide and unseeing, your heart pounding erratically in your ribcage. Every muscle in your body is coiled tight, drenched in lingering fear, and it takes everything in you not to sob.
Your fingers clutch the sheets, your breaths coming too fast, too shallow. You can still feel itâthe phantom touch of those hands, the weight of the nightmare pressing against your skin like a bruise that wonât fade.
A groggy voice beside you stirs.
âOi⌠what the hell?â
The sound of Katsukiâs voiceârough, low, laced with sleepâusually makes you feel safe. But right now, youâre too rattled to respond. Your breath hitches, your entire body trembling as you try to steady yourself, try to push the nightmare away.
Katsuki shifts beside you, propping himself up on one elbow. Even in the dark, you can feel the heat of his gaze burning into you.
âBabe?â His voice loses its edge, softening just a fraction.
You donât answer. Canât.
He notices.
His hand reaches out, resting against your back, and the moment his fingers make contact, you flinch. That makes him go still for half a second before his touch grows firmer, grounding, his palm tracing slow, steady circles against your spine.
âYouâre shakinâ,â he mutters, his voice quieter now. His hand moves, traveling up to your shoulder, squeezing gently before sliding down to your wrist, feeling your pulse racing beneath his fingertips. âShit⌠what happened?â
You swallow hard, trying to force out an answer, but all you manage is a shaky whisper.
âNightmare.â
His grip on you tightens.
âTch.â The irritation in his voice isnât aimed at youâno, itâs at whatever had the audacity to mess with you in your sleep. His other hand finds yours, prying your fingers away from the crumpled bedsheets before lacing them together. âIt wasnât real,â he mutters, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, soothing strokes. âYouâre here. With me. Breathe.â
You try. You really do.
But the fear is still there, thick and suffocating.
Katsuki noticesâof course he does. He always notices.
Without another word, he shifts closer, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you into his warmth. Your body melts into him instinctively, your forehead pressing against his bare chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek instantly grounding you. His scent surrounds youâwarm, smoky caramel with a hint of something sharp, something distinctly him.
He tilts his head down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the crown of your head. âYou wanna talk about it?â
You hesitate. The nightmare is still vivid in your mind, the images too raw, too unsettling. But the words get stuck in your throat, tangled with emotions you donât know how to untangle.
So you shake your head against his chest.
ââŚNo. Just wanna stay like this.â
His grip tightens. âYeah. Aâright.â
He doesnât push. He never does. Instead, he moves you so youâre fully on his lap, cocooned in his embrace like heâs trying to shield you from whatever nightmare had dared to touch you. His arms are solid and strong, caging you in a way that makes you feel protected rather than trapped.
One hand slides up to the back of your head, fingers slipping into your hair, massaging gentle circles into your scalp. The other wraps around your waist, holding you close, like heâs afraid youâll slip away if he lets go.
His voice is quieter now, a rare gentleness laced in his words.
âJust breathe, okay? Youâre safe.â
You do.
Slow, deep, shaky breaths against his chest. Inhaling his warmth, exhaling the fear. Over and over, until the tremors in your body start to ease, until the nightmare no longer feels like itâs suffocating you.
ââŚDâyou have nightmares a lot?â he asks after a long silence, his fingers still combing through your hair, slow and deliberate.
You hesitate, then nod.
His arms tighten, his breath ghosting over the top of your head. âYou shoulda told me.â
âI didnât wanna bother youâŚâ
A sharp tsk leaves his lips, and he pulls back just enough to tip your chin up, making you look at him. His red eyes burn with something intense, something protective. âYou ainât ever a fuckinâ bother to me, got it?â His voice is firm but gentle, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. âI donât give a shit if itâs three in the fuckinâ morningâif you need me, you wake me up. End of story.â
Your throat tightens, emotions swelling in your chest. ââŚOkay.â
âGood.â He exhales through his nose, shifting so he can kiss your forehead again. âNow lie down. I ainât lettinâ you spend the rest of the night shakinâ like a damn leaf.â
You let him pull you back down with him, your body naturally curling into his. He tangles your legs together, keeping you locked against his warmth, his hand resting against your back with slow, steady strokes.
His lips brush against your temple, voice quieter than before.
âSleep, baby. I got you.â
And this timeâwrapped in his warmth, his presence anchoring youâyou actually believe him.
Because with Katsuki holding you like this, thereâs no room for nightmares.
Just him.
Just safety.
Just love.
#bakugou katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou x you#bakugou x reader#bnha x reader#mha x reader#x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugo x you#bakugo x y/n#bnha#mha#mha fanfiction#my hero academia#boku no hero academia
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â PLUMMET. ft BOOTHILL.
â â âswoopinâ in to save me again, sugar plum?â
â ď¸ mechanic!reader (but it isnât really relevant), i saw boothill trailer and ran to google docs, gn reader (maâam used once at the end) wc 1k.
âyour bounty has been completed!â
boothill could feel the explosion of the ship, even from the distance he was and against the strong winds from his high speed fall. a rush of heat slapped him in the face, leaving a thorough hunger in his gut temporarily quelled.
âhow would you like to land?â
the cyborg kept his hat fastened to his head with his palm against the top, eyes briefly glancing down to the city below he was slowly getting closer to plumetting down into.
ââŚgood question.â
the ground was steadily approaching, even if it was gonna take him a solid second or two to actually reach it. heâd never tested if his body could withstand smacking against concrete fromâ give or takeâ six thousand feet in the air, but he had a small hunch today wasnât the day to try his luck. becoming a blue splat on the pavement wasnât exactly in the cards of his itinerary.
boothillâs eyes looked left, looked right, fingers twirling the rope on his belt. he doubted itâd do much to really help, but it was a start nonetheless.Â
he eventually came up with an ideaâ a totally foolproof idea. loop his rope around one of the street lights when he got close enough, avoid hitting the ground, swing himself back up into the air, and land safe and sound onâŚwherever the hell he managed to land. hopefully on his feet.Â
super simple, super easy. lightwork.
and so he eyed the ground, wrapping one end of his rope taught around his right palm, his left getting the momentum of the other end ready in a smooth swinging motion.
âcâmon now boothill,â he muttered to himself, voice thoroughly drowned out by the wind. âainât nothinâ but a lilâ repositioninâ.â
he kept falling, getting closer,Â
closerâŚ
closerâŚ
almost thereâŚ
boothill readied his hand to swing, but the motion quickly became unnecessary when somethingâ or rather, someoneâ grabbed his wrist, and he was pulled upward with a shocked âmuddleâ!â before he could test the success rate of his plan.
the cowboy snapped his head up, hat nearly tipping off his head. he was hung like a ragdoll from his arm, feet dangling down below him as his eyes met his apparent savioursâ
of course.
boothillâs sharp teeth slowly shone in a wide grin, loud and scruffy laugh echoing into the still rather open air around him. because who else would it have been besides you, your brows slightly furrowed at him from the safety of your little hoverboard he remembered you tinkering with just a couple days ago.
âwell fudge me!â heâd slap his knee if the position allowed. âlook who it isâ ainât you a sight for sore eyes!âÂ
boothill reached up for your other hand, you wordlessly met him halfway reaching down, leaving both of your fingers locking around the others wrist.
âswoopinâ in to save me again, sugar plum?â
you shake your head with a sigh, hoverboard beginning a steady descent down. it was a little harder to balance with boothill weighing it down, but nothing you couldnât handle.
âyouâre lucky,â you half scoff. âiâve got a sixth sense for you being an idiot.â
boothillâs hearty laugh echoed out again, the wind whipping around you leaving his hair tousled and a little tangled.Â
âainât that the fudginâ truth,â he jostled your hand a little. he doubted he could really get adrenaline rushes anymore, but this was pretty damn close. âreckon iâd be flatter than a darn hotcake if it werenât for yer timely intervention!âÂ
his feet touching the ground were a welcome stabilisation, though the cyborg made no move to release your handâ instead he actually broke into a quick sprint, barely giving you the time to pick up your board as he tugged you along.
âyou got somewhere to be or somethinâ?â
you asked, stumbling a bit before you got your footing to keep up. you were just so cute when you pretended to be all sore with him.
âyou bet i doâ somewhere that ainât swarminâ with those sorry IPC shirtbags!â
it was a fair pointâ a giant explosion in the sky of one of their own ships made quite the beacon for attention.
running with him wasnât so bad, at least. his grip around your wrist was surprisingly gentle, and the smell of him filled your nose in the wind as you trailed behind. some citrus, maybe cedar, and an unmistakable lingering of those phosphorus tracer bullets he chewed on so often.Â
you two dipped around a corner, backed against an old brick wall as some heavy footsteps kept running the other way.Â
âsay, remind me to getâcha a drink later,â boothill gave a small tug to your wrist again, bringing you just a little closer. âas a thanks for all them times yâsaved my sorry behind.â
boothill smiled when you chuckled rather than shooing his hand away or giving a smart response.
âyouâre gonna have quite the tab going.â you carefully repositioned your hand with his, your fingers lacing together rather than him just holding your wrist. boothillâs eyes could have turned into cartoonish hearts.
âtell ya what,â his hand gave yours a squeeze. âi know a place. it ainât too far from here, wonât have to worry about no one botherinâ us,â it was quite endearing, the way his voice still held that gentle rasp even as it softened. âi start workinâ off that tab, get a night with you, and heck weâre both winninâ ainât we?âÂ
you hummed at that. it didnât sound so bad.
âalright,â you nodded. âbut letâs focus on you not having to gun down another dozen IPC workers first.â
it was your turn to pull him along with a swift tug of his wrist, resuming your sprint just in time to avoid some more heavy footsteps heading in your direction.
âyou werenât pullinâ my leg about that sixth sense, were ya sweetheart?â boothill fell into a natural step behind you.
âconsider this added to your tab.â
âyes maâam!â
â MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?
#boothill#boothill x reader#boothill hsr#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail headcanons#boothill honkai star rail#hsr boothill#boothill headcanons#boothill x you#star rail x reader#UNEARTHLY
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If the last fic takes place before the Batfam knew about Conners existence, I just wanna see Mouse explain to them that a Superman cosplayer saved them lol
I love that. "Yeah some cosplayer saved my life. 10/10 would let him do it again."
Littlest Wayne: Information Gathering
Masterlist is Here!
"You and Superman need to come straight to the Cave when you return to Earth."
"I miss you, too, babe," Hal smirks, gliding just above the ground on a planet he and Clark are guarding for a major diplomatic conference. "Tryna get the debrief out of the way so we can get me out of by boxer briefs right after?"
"Mouse was in a hostage situation in Metropolis today that was too overcast for them to get out of."
Hal's good mood plummets. He almost shouts for Clark to get his ass over to him so they can immediately head back.
"Are they â"
"Alive, and relatively unharmed considering the severity of the event."
"What does relatively mean in this context, B?" Hal snaps. "Relatively unharmed by vigilante standards or by civilian standards? Are they in the hospital?"
"Some bad bruising to the temple and a low-grade burn on the right arm. They're safe."
Bruce's calm tone and steady cadence helps relax Hal. His shoulders un-tense and he lets out a sigh.
"Alright. But there's more to it, otherwise you wouldn't have contacted me."
Bruce hums in that quiet way he does when he's pleased by Hal's deductive reasoning. It makes him smile and miss him that much more, and he's only been gone two days.
"They were rescued by a new Meta. Called himself Superman."
"Look at you, crackin' jokes on an official League line. Never thought I'd see the day!"
"..."
"You're not joking. There's a second Superman flying around?"
"A Superboy, by the looks of it. He's the real deal â the flight, the strength, and the suit all points to another Kryptonian. This will make three, after Supergirl."
Hal furrows his brow. He lets his feet hit the ground and starts to pace, kicking up little bits of purple dirt. This planet is ridiculously fragile. It's part of the reason he and Clark are protecting it during these peace talks.
"Is it a baby? Don't remember either Kara or Lois looking pregnant."
"A teenager. Around Mouse's age, by the looks of him, and very inexperienced from what scattered footage I can find of the event."
"Which makes no sense. There's something up if he's a teen but still can't use his powers right. Supes told us he could hone his almost perfectly before he was old enough to drive a car. A new scheme by Luthor or Waller, maybe?"
"I knew I married you for a reason."
"Keep praising me like that and there won't be time for a debrief when I get home."
Bruce hums again. His considering sound. The Green Lantern suit feels very constricting, all of a sudden.
"You don't need to rush your mission to get back. There is one more thing you need to know prior to return, however."
"I'm all ears."
"Mouse described the Superboy as... handsome."
Hal falls to his hands and knees, kicking up a small cloud of purple dust.
"No, no, nooo! They're just a baby!"
"Well. They're seventeen."
"Well I say they're too young for romance! Yesterday they were afraid of Cooties!!"
"Time flies. It's inevitable."
"We're gonna wrap these peace talks up tonight."
Bruce sounds amused on the other end of the line, like he hasn't just crushed Hal's entire world three sentences ago.
"You aren't due back for another week."
"We're wrapping it up tonight!"
"Okay. Agent A will know to set your plate tomorrow."
"Can he make some of those mini quiches? I'm gonna need comfort food to get over this."
"I'll pass the request along."
"And can you wear the see-through robe you were given after you shot that Dior commercial?"
"...if you slick back your hair, yes."
Hal grins. He's still not happy about his youngest kid growing up so fast, but this is a nice consolation prize.
--
True to his word, Hal and Clark get the peace talks concluded by nightfall and head back to Earth. Clark is given the general run-down of what happened on the way, and his curiosity and insistence on getting answers lets Hal know it'll be a long night. He's gonna slick his hair back anyway. He misses his husband, dammit.
You sit at the meeting table in the Bat Cave, feet propped on top exactly like Jason does it, with your hands stuffed in the pockets of your hoodie. You stare groggily at Hal and Clark as they fly in from their trip, shuffling to your feet to give them both sleepy hugs.
"Welcome back," you yawn. "Dad said you have questions?"
"Hey, Mousey," Hal grins, ruffling your hair. You grumble and wave his hand away, then grumble louder when Clark does the exact same thing. "Just got some follow-up questions about the field trip, then we'll let you get back to bed."
You go back to your seat and slump into it, rubbing your eyes. "Kay."
"Did the boy you met tell you his name?" Clark asks, sitting to your right. There's a dossier sitting on the table that he flips open, glancing over the information Bruce collected with Tim's help. He frowns at a still image pulled from his interview on TV.
"Just called himself Superman," you explain. "He had a version of your suit on. It looked legit. I'm guessing he's not your son, based on the way you're looking at the file."
"He is not. Did he seem to be acting maliciously or under someone's control? Was he flesh and blood or robotic?" Clark asks. "Did he hurt anyone? Did he try to hurt you?"
"No," you say, "he was warm. He's flesh and blood and definitely saved us from that fire. In fact he seemed...uh.."
You wave your hand around vaguely and pick over the best way to phrase this.
"Okay! There's a boy at school named Rory. He transferred to Gotham Academy this year after being homeschooled."
"Mousey," Hal speaks up, "I know you're tired, but we kinda gotta stay on track â"
"I am!" You insist. "I am, I swear. Look, it was obvious Rory was homeschooled because he didn't know how to, like, socialize properly? He asked a lot of questions that feel like common-sense if you're used to going to public schools and talking to people outside your family. The Superman cosplayer kind of acted like that."
"Cosplayer?" Clark mouths at Hal, who waves him off.
"So you think he's never been out there doing any hero stuff before that day?"
You shrug and nod. "I think he's never been out at all before that day. He reminded me a lot of Rory on his first day of school."
"But he didn't hurt you?" Hal asks.
"I promise, he didn't. He spoke to me like twice and then brought me to the EMTs to get looked at. Then Jason showed up and brought me home after making sure the school knew I wouldn't be taking the bus back from Metropolis."
"Last question," Clark promises, recapturing your attention. "Can you find him right now? With your shadows?"
"Uh, I can try."
Your gaze becomes a little distant. The shadows cast from one of the overhead lights shifts and dissolves into the ground, zipping out of the cave. Hal and Clark wait silently as you work, feeling for the presence of the boy that saved you just a day before.
"... M e t r o p o l i s..." You mutter, voice taking on that faint, echoing quality it does whenever you speak through the darkness. "...A r o o m...c o n c i o u s...k n o w s I s e e..."
"Come back, Mouse," Hal says, urgent. You take a moment to get your bearings, yawning and rubbing your face. "He knows you used your power to find him?"
You nod. "He saw my shadow move in the corner of his room. Guys, it's so bare and dark. He's got a cot, an alarm clock, and one blanket in there. It looks like some room you'd stick a sick person in to quarantine them."
"Where in Metropolis is he? That doesn't sound like the Solitary Confinement cells in the prison."
"It's not a jail. It looked like a lab, I think?"
"Lex Luthor," Hal and Clark state at the same time. Clark stands up, drawing you into another gentle hug, then heads for the exit.
"Thank you for your help, Mouse! Sleep well."
"Bye, uncle Clark. Have a good night," you call after him. When Hal stands, you rise with him, stretching. "Can I go to bed, now?"
"Yeah, hon," Hal nods, pressing his hand to your back and guiding you to the stairs. "We'll head up together. I'll tell your dad what we learned when he comes back from patrol."
"Kay," you mumble, climbing the steps with another wide yawn. "M'sleeping in tomorrow. Being up at two am sucks."
Hal chuckles. "Yeah, it does. We'll put your breakfast in some Tupperware for when you get up, then."
Once the two of you climb through the grandfather clock and reenter the manor proper, you give Hal one more goodnight hug, then excuse yourself to go to bed. Your eyes are closed as you shuffle into your room and nudge the door closed behind you, navigating the space from memory. It's not until you start climbing back into bed that you feel a dip in it that shouldn't be there.
The dip of another person's weight.
You snap your eyes open and you inhale to scream. A hand presses itself to your mouth, and you find yourself staring at those brilliant blues from yesterday.
"Waitwaitwait-" the boy gasps, whisper-shouting. "Please!!"
You push his hand off and he lifts them both up in placation, floating off the bed and several feet away from you.
"What do you want!?" You whisper-yell back. "Why are you in my room!? That's creepy!"
He grimaces, knees curling towards his chest. In the low light, you can see color painting his cheeks.
"I wanted to come see you," he murmurs.
"Why?"
"I don't know your name."
You're completely flummoxed. You shake your head and shrug.
"Do you need to?" You ask.
The boy floats a little closer, his gaze intense. He looks at you like...he looks at you like you're the most important thing in the world right now. It makes your stomach swoop.
"Yes," he says, completely sincere. "I'm...I can't...there's this..."
His brow furrows. He's exceptionally easy to read, like he's never known how to be anything except fully, authentically himself. It's a welcome change in a family of vigilante detectives with emotional intimacy issues. It'll help you know if he's trying to deceive you, too.
Quietly, you give him your name. His eyes snap to yours and he repeats it, lips shaping the vowels and consonants with an unusual reverence. You can feel your own face getting a little warm.
"I'm...Conner," the boy says. His eyes dart to your mouth. You oblige.
"Hi, Conner," you mutter. His whole body un-tenses, looking like a puppet with his strings cut as he almost dangles in the air.
"Can I â" Conner cuts himself off. He drifts closer to you. You shift back, feeling cornered from where you kneel in your bed. "Ah. I wanted... I don't know how to say..."
Exhausted and confused, you gesture at him to hurry it up a little. You know you should probably alert someone that the new Meta boy is literally floating four feet away from you right now, but you know he isn't here to cause harm.
"It's late," you speak up. "Can you try a little harder to get the point across so I can sleep?"
"Yes," Conner says quickly, obediently. "Call for me."
You blink heavily. Your mind feels like sludge. "Elaborate."
"When you need something," he specifies. "If you're in danger, or lonely, or just...or just want to. Please. Call for me and I'll come to you."
"Why?" You yawn. It's getting harder to stay conscious. You let your body fall over until you collide with the pillows, eyes slipping closed. "Why me?"
Conner floats above you, reaching down to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with more reverence than is appropriate for having barely met. His fingers brush against the bruise on your temple, featherlight.
"Because it's you," he says, as your consciousness fades. "Something in my heart is yours... I hope that's okay."
You hum, managing a barely discernible "kay," in your last seconds of awareness before sleep pulls you under.
In your subconscious mind, you register warmth wrap around you for a moment, and then you're alone with nothing but a cracked window as evidence anyone had ever been there.
#littlest wayne au#batfam x reader#batlantern#conner kent x reader#gn reader#kon el x reader#conner kent#bruce wayne#hal jordan#clark kent#superboy x reader
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he canât sleep without you. | roommate!scara x gn!reader.
in which you both are roommates (gasp). and he cannot seem to have a goodâs night rest without your warmth.
notes: clingy scara!!, profanity, mutual pining, one mention of innuendo but still sfw, scara is sort of like a cat that waits outside of the bathroom door, not proofread
roommate!scara small hcs: here | masterlist
For someone so adamant about getting all his 8 hours of sleep, he sure as hell was too willing to lose it so easily.
With one hand begrudgingly wiping away the drowsiness from his eyes, he clenches the blanket closer in the other, shivering as the breeze hits his puffed cheeks and loose top that he carelessly slipped into the night before.
Scaramouche felt the heaviness weighing on his movement; his hair was no doubt disheveled, and his dark circles were already starting to pull underneath his bottom eyelids. Miserably, he tried to run his fingers through the strands, only to struggle when he was met with a particular knot...
In other words, he felt like complete shit.
âŚ
Just where are you right now?
Squinting at the faint light peering through the corridor, he hears nothing but the hum of the air conditioner and the shuffling of footsteps behind the bathroom door.
Tossing his legs over the edge of the mattress, he briefly weighed his options:
Either pass out on the cold, hard ground
Watch the lost hours take a toll on his plummeting mood as he waits for you.
Neither which seemed possible nor pleasant to him.
God, are those his only alternatives? He drags a hand down his face, slipping on some fuzzy cat sandals (a gift, courtesy of you after convincing him that it was well worth the price only to see him lap around rocking cute merch, much to your amusement).
And his mind reels back at the thought of you.
âŚ
A normal and sane person wouldnât limp his way out of the bedroom; a normal and sane person wouldnât take the time dragging his dwindling patience and weary feet towards a conveniently placed bathroom door; a normal and sane person would instead, hog the blankets and fall back to sleep...
âŚ
Despite this, Scaramouche found himself at the mercy of the blazing light at the aforementioned conveniently placed bathroom door.
He scoffs. âA normal and sane person.â
With his blanket draped across the wooden tiled floor, his hand dug out from under the duvet before landing swift knocks on the wood.
1 knock.
Then 2.
Then finally, 3.
Scaramouche clenches the makeshift coat closer, shivering as he shoots glares at the door.
âAre you done?â Scaramouche grumbled before plummeting his head onto the door itself; a sense of exasperation flowing through him and by god, he hoped you could sense his desperation too. âCome back to bed, it is too cold.â His sense of shame would come back in the morning once he was more lucid. But right now, he just wanted to sleep.
And unfortunately, he also wanted you.
â
It started as a simple movie night: hiding within the cozy sheet of a small blanket, huddling closer for warmth, pressing up so close against each other. Even with the screen blaring on his face, the clear exhaustion from a movie marathon, he still found comfort in the way your fingers gently roamed and traced down his back then up to brush the hair sticking out from his neck. While his head rested comfortably at your shoulder, humming slightly to the background static.
This was becoming a regular occurrence:
You suggest a movie after watching him fumble around with his work, eyes nearly drooping after painstakingly looking at a computer all day, with coffee prepared in those branded âBest Employe of the Yearâ mugs his company loves parade around. With one quick glance at his sad form, you were already coaxing him onto the couch for âjust a few minutesâ until suddenly, he was cozied in pajamas and the blanket wrapped around him like some sort of makeshift hostage situation.
More and more, until he finds himself cuddling close to your form, his arms wrapped under the fabric of your waist, and your leg lifted onto his hip.
More and more, until he is the one to instead force you out of your chair and into watching a horror movie with him, sliding snacks he knows youâll indulge in when he doesnât see.
More and more, until he feels you wrap the blanket around him the next day, gently whispering a quick âgood morningâ before quickly making a beeline to the bathroom in order to prepare for work.
But in your absence, his hand reaches out after you, eyes flat on the door: a fleeting acknowledgment and the longing to get you back into his arms.
It was maddening.
..So, this was no different.
Another excuse to press close against each other; the cold chill from that busted heater leaving you to fend for yourself with the only pair of a heated blanket until the next morningâbringing you to offer another movie.
This time, childhood classics.
âYou know, we should sleep together,â you suddenly say, the rumbling from your chest awakening him.
He pauses, his head lifting from his spot. âExcuse me?â
âLike bed-sharing. Cuddling. Horizontally lying on a mattress. Together. Ever heard of the concept?â you chuckled. âWhat were you thinking about?â
He makes a face. âAbsolutely nothing.â And he turns on his side, his back to your chest, away from your stifling laughter. ââŚWhy are you even asking in the first place?â comes out after a moment.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the way you stretched your arms out to release some of the tension from your body, then leaned your head on his shoulder. âWeâve been doing this for a while, yeah? I donât know, heater is still kinda busted and I kinda donât want to be alone right now.â
There was an extended pause in his reply.
Truthfully, there were little reasons to hate the arrangement and even fewer reasons to refuse it. In fact, with the way your chin comfortably sits on his skin, his mind was reeling with warmth despite the bitter cold biting his skin.
âNo worries, the deal is still on the table so donât feel pressured,â you smile up at him, taking his silence as a refusal. âI can go out to get-â
Then he cuts you off, huffing with amusement. âSure, do what you want.â
And he leaves it at that, already scooting closer to your chest and comfortably making room in your arms.
But soon, he feels you gently intertwine your hands together, pulling the back of his to your lips. With your eyes glinting with fondness, you breathe in. âThanks.â and before he can react, you were already pressing your face into the curve of his neck, contentment rolling off on you in waves.
âŚYou were maddening.
â
For a moment, there was no other sound except the hum of the air conditioner and the shuffling of footsteps behind the bathroom door. Scaramouche sighs.
From being habitually conditioned into only sleeping by your side, he finds that the aftermath led up to whatever state he is in right now.
3:12 am. He checks once more. You were taking long. He embraces the cool chill, the blanket already half shallowing his body at this point, spilling to the bottom like some coat.
He probably looks ridiculous standing in front of the bathroom, tapping his foot, impatiently waiting for your return.
Like a cat, he could hear you say.
And as if you heard his increasingly humbling pleas, before long, the door peers open, shedding light on his poor eyes and through his rather tense squinting. Barely stepping foot into the room, you jump at the sight of your roommateâwho, he would have guessed from your dumbfounded gasp and prolonged stare, you werenât expecting to be up at this hour.
ââŚHow long were you standing there?â
He only regarded you with the tilt of his head, his eyes narrowed at your form. âLong enough.â he murmured.
With your eyes doused with concern, he watched as you took one step towards him, reaching out to tug his hand back into your room. âSorry, had to use the bathroom.â That was until you seemed to catch the odd blush on his face, dimmed light exposing his visage. He could almost sense your glee the moment you decide you werenât going to pity his poor self. âDid you miss me by chance?â
Firmly, he quickly tugs you closer, landing his head on your shoulder and pointedly ignoring your comment. âJust shit faster, I need to sleep.â
Scaramouche didnât comment on how you sucked in a harsh breath, lips parting as he hugged you tighter. Buried into your neck, he fought the smile that crept up on his face and the raging heat coaling in his cheeks. He heard a soft laugh echo into the air before a lightweight softly hit his head, humming a gentle: âMissed you too.â
He wasnât sure if it was pounding in his ears or the thumping of your heartbeat, but as your warmth wrapped around his cool body, his composure ever so slightly weakened and lulled into a quiet hum. Gathering all his aches in a single embrace, he canât help but desperately tug onto your shirt, demanding a resemblance of dignity â only for it to fail terribly as he leaned in closer, his body already weak to the kisses you press against his temples.
And that was enough for him.
(That was enough for his mind to come to a rest.)
So yes, you were revolting in every sense of the word. And yet if he were to choose, Scaramouche would willingly suck up his pride than ever pull away from your warm embrace.
#LMAOOO#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x you#wanderer x reader#scaramouche x reader fluff#genshin x reader#genshin x you#scaramouche#who is up and yearning right now
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