#I am now a fugitive

[inkspottie]

If the breakout actually had Sadao along for the ride

[poorlittleyaoyao]

My toxic trait is that I do not like “JGY hid LXC in the brothel where he grew up” as a conceit, and I cannot fathom why it’s become so prevalent that people don’t even realize it’s fanon. 😐

[sofiiel]

𝐌𝐲 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 | Fugitive!Eddie x AFABReader

▶▷ Table of Contents:

CW: Mentions of Childhood Trauma. Supernatural. Weed. Guns. Alcohol. Mentions of low self-esteem (from Eddie). Harassment. Lots of Fluff. Eventual sex / sexual content. Soft!Eddie. Character Death. Semi-Cannon. Slight drama. Hurt/Comfort(?). Slice of life -ish. Slow-going. Possible slow burn. This fic is not pre-planned. I have a bad history of taking actual ages to update (it's an impulse fic, it is written because 'oh an idea' which may mean I lollygag.)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 1 ▸2▸ (trying to update every friday)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

You've lived in your grandmother's house on the edge of Hawkins all your life. The little odd cottage behind the sunflower fields. Most people think your place is abandoned or that some strange old woman lives inside. The rumors around town are endless.

It's a safe place to raise your skittish niece Bea, who is working through trauma. No one draws near your little slice of heaven.

That is until you get an unexpected neighbor on your land.

Eddie Munson has been on the run for the past five years. It takes longer than one would think to clear one's name when made the scapegoat for the government.

Missing home and with news of possible progress, Eddie moves back to Hawkins, staying on the outskirts...on what he believed was vacant land.

There's a silly fuzzy critter stealing fruit from your garden, and he has a doozy of a secret.

...so do you.

[haventacluewhatimdoing]

Wait so... the Third Doctor said 'I think i'm losing confidence for the first time in my life. And that covers several thousand years'?? I thought at this point he thought he was like 450ish??

[someoneoffthestreet]

ok not to put too fine a point on it but! but!!! there's something deeply funny to me (ha-ha funny and "hm, interesting" funny) about how Phineas and Larks' relationship is comprised of meetings and partings. their journey through s2 is repeated instances of them going "well, I guess this is the end of the road together, goodbye forever" only for Third Person to be like "ten minutes later, Lark caught up with Phineas and insisted that they were just traveling the same way, don't make a big deal out of it". and this happens, like, THREE SEPARATE TIMES, before Lark catches up to him in the s2 finale and explicitly says, "I'm coming with you."

and! like! Lark is old and cynical and Phineas is young and idealistic- and more to the point, Phineas is that awkward age where he is young enough to be in need of guidance (so young. he is baby. baby boy) but also old enough that Lark won't feel pressured to be his mother (like she did with Tzila). and to be VERY clear, I don't want Lark to be Phineas's mom. (reluctant older sister? maybe. crotchety old aunt? sure.) but most of all I just want them be- well- friends! I just! think it would be neat!

[joyridingmp3]

it's so weird to see the trashy town i grew up in becoming gentrified right before my eyes

[radiantlyrey]

[ID: The Seinfeld “I gotta focus, I’m shifting into soup mode” meme, but the word "Murderbot” has been slapped over the word “soup”, and a badly cropped image of Murderbot’s faceless helmet has been pasted on George Constanza’s face.]

I made a meme. :D

[ddarker-dreams]

A Fool's Errand.

Yan Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, imbalanced power dynamics, alcohol mention/consumption, not SFW implications. Word count: 2.1k.

“Now that’s a scary look.” 

Ice cubes clink together as you stir your drink, feigning an air of indifference. The warm pinks swirl in a hypnotizing display. Golden flecks catch the room’s sparse lighting, shimmering within the miniature whirlpool. 

You return your focus to the reflection in your pocket mirror. 

The countenance that greets you is both familiar and foreign. Color is infused into your lips, brushed along your cheeks, and blended atop your eyelids. It’d been a while since you had applied makeup, but the muscle memory kicked in eventually. After some touch-ups, you found the results satisfactory. From this vantage point, you can admire your décolleté, complemented by a dainty choker with a butterfly charm. 

You can also see a pair of eyes staring back at you. 

You clasp the mirror shut, wishing the shadowy apparition would disappear.

Instead, it creeps closer, footsteps echoing throughout the empty room. 

You sip your concoction. It’s tart, with a splash of sweetness that soon fades into a bitter aftertaste. A hazy warmth swaddles your mind in a tight embrace. 

Blade materializes beside you like a phantom coming to life. His presence is heavy and impossible to ignore, but you try your best. He’s frowning, almost glaring at you, the skin beneath his eyes wrinkled in displeasure. Your continued apathy does little to soothe the brewing tension. 

This time, it’s him who breaks the silence. 

“How much have you had to drink?”

“This is my third glass,” you admit. His eyebrows scrunch together. “I thought you’d come faster.” 

“If you anticipated your failure, why bother?” 

“I dunno. Curiosity? Boredom?” Your finger traces the drink’s rim. Suppressing a wicked smile, you add, “Maybe I wanted to find a date.” 

For a fleeting instant, it’s like the room’s oxygen rushed out at once, leaving you to asphyxiate. Your eyes tell a different story — nothing’s changed, at least, not physically — aside from his pupils shrinking to a pinprick’s size. Faintly, what remains of your cognition advises against poking the beast. You’ve already done enough. In the coming days, you’re likely to regret this entire escapade. 

However, your present self finds immense satisfaction in spewing petty jabs. 

“Be mindful of your tongue, girl.” 

Blade’s timbre is dark and gravelly. Shivers envelop your body, which you chase off with another hearty drink. His eyes follow your throat as you gulp the liquid down. They remain fixated there for an unnerving few seconds. Shifting around in your seat, it’s growing harder to deny the magnitude of who you’re dealing with. His suffocating favor doesn’t grant you absolute immunity. 

You try reaching for another sip, only for him to stop you. 

“That’s enough,” he says. His grip around your wrist tightens when you try wrenching it free. “We’re heading back.” 

Heading back. To the life of a fugitive, forever on the run, wreaking chaos wherever he and his band of clairvoyant criminals set foot. It isn’t an alluring prospect. This brief stint has been the longest you’ve gone without constant surveillance. Even if it’s a fleeting illusion, destined to slip through your fingers, you want to hold on just a bit longer. 

The alcohol flowing through your system further emboldens you. “You wanna end our date so fast?” 

This little provocation seemingly accomplishes the impossible — it throws Blade off guard. 

“‘Our?’” He repeats, the upward inflection uncharacteristic of his monotonous voice. 

“I was lookin’ for a date and you happened to come along, so yeah, why not?” You say it as if it’s the most obvious thing. He blinks. “What? Am I not pretty enough?” 

Blade’s lips part and close in rapid succession. He knows what you’re doing, you know that he knows what you’re doing, yet your flirtations still have a visible effect. His body’s gone stiff and his jaw’s set, like he’s concentrating greatly. You hear his leather glove creak as he clenches and unclenches his fists. 

Leaning onto the counter, you look up at him through your eyelashes. “You must not like me after all.” 

“That—” he exhales sharply, his subsequent words coming out in a low, measured drawl, “... You have until you finish your drink.” 

While your mind slowly processes this information, he pulls out a barstool and sits beside you. You can tell he’s still disgruntled, yet you’ve established a temporary truce. For all the brutality he’s capable of, he's willingly domesticated the instant you offer a piece of yourself. A guard dog who requires no leash, for leaving your side is unthinkable. 

This is what’s doomed you and posed as your salvation. 

You break eye contact. 

Outside, you hear the whirr of traffic through the bar’s thin walls. You’d already forgotten the name of the planet you’re visiting. It’s indistinguishable from most IPC-infected civilizations — intrusive advertisements carved in the night sky and menial work for the masses, who will never climb as high as they wish. The Stellaron Hunter’s prolonged presence is an ill omen for the oblivious populace. 

If you asked, Blade would tell you what they’re doing here and what will become of the inhabitants.

These days, you find it’s best not to know. 

“Why didn’t you try dating me, anyway?” You ask. An ice cube begins melting into the drink, losing itself. “I’ve always wondered about that. Who knows? I may have fallen head over heels for you.” 

His answer comes surprisingly fast, slicing through the air like his weapon of choice. “I am not the sort of man you should be with.” 

You whip your head in his direction, utterly dumbfounded. “Huh?” 

“What you deserve… I can never give,” Blade’s eyes betray nothing of his inner thoughts. “It’s best that you never believed otherwise.” 

The universe’s momentum slows to a crawl. You sit up straight, ignoring the wave of dizziness the abrupt motion inflicts, scrutinizing his visage. Dull emotions attempt to burst the pleasant buzz you've cocooned in. Their sharp edges push and push, testing the material’s durability. The lights flicker, unwilling to cast him in permanent light. 

“If you care enough to consider all that, then why—” 

Why rob me of normalcy? 

Why take what made me into the person I am? 

Why deprive me of my life to make what’s left of yours better?

He lets you down what remains of your drink. It burns as it travels down your tightening throat, washing away any playfulness that lingered on your tongue. Your stomach turns in on itself. Still, you lap up every drop, chasing after a numbness that can’t outweigh the grief. The act of pulling the glass away proves overwhelming for your frazzled brain. You sway, temporarily stupefied. 

The cold leather of one hand and textured gauze from another steady your shoulders, keeping your body in place. 

“Careful. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

You glare at him halfheartedly. “What’s it matter? Seeing me in pain obviously means nothin’ to you.” 

He pauses, considering a response you’ll never be privy to, as he keeps his lips shut. Instead, he asks, “Can you walk?” 

This questioning of your motor functions has you scoffing. Wordlessly, you hop to the ground, where you stay still, intent on keeping yourself steady. Despite your best efforts, your surroundings spin ever so slightly. The minimalist furniture of this automaton-run establishment blurs together. Heat flushes throughout your body, warming your cheeks like an internal furnace. 

You overestimated your tolerance. It’s been a while since you’ve indulged — you should’ve considered that. 

Your weak performance confirms Blade’s suspicions. He approaches you, raising his hands, likely to keep you secure like he had before. You dodge his unwanted advances out of reflex. This proves to be a mistake, as you lack the coordination to make any sharp movements. Your ankle gives out and your eyes fly wide open, arms flailing about for purchase. 

Blade moves faster than you can process. You’re made to feel weightless as he lifts you up, holding you firm against his chest. 

“Hey, put me down! I don’t— I can walk just fine!” You exclaim, writhing around like a fish out of water. Exerting a mere fraction of his strength is enough to render your struggle useless. Realizing that all you’re doing is tiring yourself out, you go limp, your breathing coming out erratic from the exertion. Humiliation prickles throughout like hot needles waiting to erupt from your flesh.

“Are you finished?” 

You’re close enough to feel the low vibration of his voice. It rattles your bones, burrowing deep within the marrow. You express your resignation by averting your gaze. With that, he walks out, holding you in a bridal carry. Cool air nips at your exposed skin as he kicks the door open. It lets out into a back alley, where he must’ve skulked in from. 

He stops here and gingerly places you down, muttering, “Lean against the wall.” 

You do as instructed, though given your impaired state, you would’ve fumbled around for support without his prompting. He sheds his outer black jacket and drapes it along your bare shoulders. The fabric engulfs you, smelling faintly metallic. After ensuring you’re properly covered, he scoops you back up, maneuvering your body around like it’s weightless. 

He follows the labyrinth-like expanse of alleyways, leaving the sounds and sights of the densely populated area behind. Not a word is uttered or a glance shared. You wet your lips, your mind racing for ways to break the tense silence. Blade’s always been a man of a few words, but this bout is different than what you’re used to. Heavier, somehow. Your actions have gone beyond petty defiance. Typically, you can gauge what nonsense you can and can’t get away with. 

With this latest excursion, however—

—You’ve stumbled into uncharted territory. 

“What now?” You ask, your voice unusually meek. 

“You’ll be leaving this star system before long. We’re headed towards the pickup site.” 

Your ears perk up at his word choice. “You aren’t coming?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’ve yet to fulfill my portion of the script on this planet.” 

“... Oh.” 

You can feel the look he sends your way. 

“Does this displease you?” 

“Ah, well,” you take a deep breath, finding the act of verbalizing your thoughts in this state difficult, “I didn’t think you… liked being apart.” 

“My preferences are irrelevant. Kafka will ensure you’re cared for until I’m suited to be around you again.” 

You furrow your eyebrows together, parsing through this information bit by bit. It’s like your mental faculties have been slathered with tar, slowing the gears in the mire. You’re only ever stuck with Kafka when Blade’s regenerating from significant injuries or dangerously mara-struck. You reflect on the evening’s events. The ease at which you snuck out, how it felt like the universe itself aligned along the way… 

Ah. 

You’re the ideal variable to tamper with when increasing (or decreasing) his mara. 

It’s a gross feeling — this sensation of being used like a pawn to affect the performance of the board’s stronger pieces. Perhaps the inevitably of it all is why he isn’t upset with you, or he might be trying to delay the onslaught of mara. Whatever the case, you’ve inadvertently done your part for this script. Stirring the sediments of his shortcomings and shoving your dislike of him to the forefront. 

Is this all you are? A side character in the epic Destiny’s Slave has penned? 

You grit your teeth. 

Using what little strength’s left in your muscles, you sit up, slinking your arms around his neck for support. Blade pauses, clearly more interested in your machinations than dropping you off like a package. He turns to face you. Though you’re nearly nose to nose, the night obscures his features, save for his eyes. The two blood-red moons have an otherworldly glow to them. Their gravitational pull is dangerous, yet you approach them as a willing sacrifice regardless. 

A gentle graze of your lips against his is enough for him to stop breathing. You can do what his mountains of deceased enemies gave their lives trying to accomplish. He must know you’re up to something; his grip is nearly bruising from the restraint he’s exercising. You test his fraying resolve by allowing your lips to connect. It’s purposefully brief, ending before it truly began. Upon pulling away, he chases after you, but you deny him.

Blade sounds pained when murmuring your name. 

Whether it’s a plea or a warning, you can’t tell. 

“What?” You ask. “You’re the one trying to get rid of me.” 

“...” 

Blade leers down at you. You meet his stare, unyielding, drunk on the idea of inconveniencing the Stellaron Hunters to any extent.

"... Stay still," he eventually orders, backing you against the alley's wall. "Time is short."

You wait until he's nipping at your neck to smile.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“When I said I owed you,” you whisper and look over your shoulder. 

“Talk as quiet as you want, he’s got super hearing. Can’t even squeak out a silent but deadly with this guy,” Sam chuckles. 

“Wow, that’s gross,” you crinkle your nose. 

“I can be a nasty boy.” 

“Not better,” you give him an apprehensive look as you face him. “I saw him on the news.” 

“Hey, I was there too,” Sam chirps. 

“I know that but...” 

“He got a bit trigger happy. We’re just waiting for things to blow over. He needs a calming personality.” 

“So not you,” you retort. 

“No, not me. I’m into choking but not by him,” he snickers. 

“I can hear you,” the man leaning on the car hood snaps back as the sucker in his mouth hits his teeth. 

“Oh, I know,” Sam shoots a finger gun in his direction. “Also, he’s giving up smoking so he’s a bit testy.” 

“No, I spent eight hours in a car with you so I’m pissed off,” the grumbly sidekick hurls back. 

You look between them. Sam Wilson, the new Cap, superhero, avengers, comedian, and Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, assassin, and... mystery. You should refuse. You owe him but that much? A near-fugitive in your house? 

“Sam, I don’t exactly got a guest room,” you cross your arms. 

“Look, if the dame don’t wanna take me, don’t twist her arm,” Bucky sneers and bites into the sucker, scraping the stick with his teeth. “I can figure myself out.” 

“That’s what you said before the explosion. I’m not falling for it again, man,” Sam shoots back and shakes his head. He puts his hands on his hips and faces you. “You’re not just doing a service to me, but to America.” 

“Yes, okay, but this is Canada.” 

His eyes drift in realisation and his lashes flutter, “right, but we’re allies.” He looks at you again and smiles, “I thought Canadians were nice.” 

You roll your eyes. “Goddamnit. Fine.” 

“Like I said,” Bucky approaches, “I can go somewhere else. I don’t wanna be a burden.” 

“It’s not you,” you assure him. “There isn’t much space, that’s all. If you’re fine with that, so am I.” 

“I told him, it’s not a big deal,” Bucky huffs. “But he insists.” 

“I have to insist. I’m the Captain now.” 

“You keep saying,” he turns on Sam. “So why don’t you get that shield and we’ll see if you’re really up to that title.” 

“Alright, alright,” you step between them. You’re not a fan of conflict. Sam knows that and that’s why he brought him here. “No need to argue. You got a couch,” you look at Bucky then turn to the other man, “and you have a long ride home.” 

“Wait, you’re kicking me out?” Sam says. 

“If you stay any longer, I won’t stop him. I said he could stay, I said nothing about mediating whatever this is,” you wiggle your finger between them. 

Bucky snorts. He’s just as bad as Sam. They seem to only know how to goad the other.  

“Fair. I mean, you don’t want this guy getting any grumpier. He’s already such a treat,” Sam smirks. 

“Enough, I just told you,” you wag your index at him. “Well, nice to meet ya,” you turn and offer your hand to Bucky, “welcome to Canada.” 

“Thanks,” he says, though you can sense him staring down the other man. 

“Sam, have a safe trip. You need water or anything for the road?” You offer over your shoulder. 

“Nah, I think I’m good. A nice ride home alone. With good music. Think I’m set.” He cackles. 

“You wouldn’t know good music if it shot you in the face,” Bucky growls. 

“Dude, go get your bag out of my car,” Sam snips. “Good riddance, is what I say.” 

“Drive safe,” you shake your head as you walk toward the house. “I was in the middle of something.” 

You climb the porch steps and leave the inner door open as the screen door snaps shut behind you. Out of sight, you stop to shake off the adrenaline. You only realise then how the unexpected rival stirred you up. You weren’t ready for Sam but especially not a houseguest. Still, the only reason you have this place is because of that man. You can do this. 

You take a breath and go back to the kitchen. If Sam trusts Bucky, you can too. You’re not one to welcome in strangers, especially men, but this is different. And even if he asked, it wasn’t much of a choice. 

You wash your hands and dry them before pushing your sleeves back up. The striped button-up isn’t exactly your Sunday best. You add breadcrumbs to the bowl of raw beef as you hear footsteps on the porch. The door opens slowly and gently hits the frame. You listen to your guest as he sighs in the entryway. 

The house is small. One-floor, a single bedroom, a bathroom, a living room and a kitchen with a small dining table that doubles as your workspace. It isn’t much, but it’s yours. And it’s history. Your family’s. 

You sense him hovering just outside the doorway. You glance behind yourself and hang your hands over the brim of the bowl. You still need to chop the veggies but that can wait. It isn’t his fault Sam decided this would be the balance in the scales. 

“Let me show you around.” You cross the kitchen as he peers through.  

His beard is dark, his hair overgrown and pushed back behind his ears, and tugs at the bottom of his denim jacket. He looks skittish as you approach. He has a duffel bag in his hand. 

“Look, sorry if I came off short. You know how Sam can be,” you say. 

“I do. He assumes a lot,” he mutters. 

“Sure does. So, like I said, it’s not a big house. Kitchen here,” you point over your shoulder, “living room behind you, bathroom down the hall and the bedroom. There’s a back door. Yard’s bigger than the house.” 

“Got it.” 

“So, you’ll have to camp out on the couch but good news, it’s from 1987 so it folds out,” you squeeze by him and lead the way into the front room. 

“Beats a full barracks,” he comments. 

You nod and peek over at him. “Guess that makes sense.” 

He sniffs, “thanks. Really.” 

“Again, not too much,” you gesture to the room. “I gotta finish the meatloaf.” 

“Think I can handle it,” he affirms. 

[luveline]

Can I request Eddie and R tending to each other’s wounds (given they both survive the demobats in the UD)?

ty <3 fem!reader, 1.4k 

cw canon typical violence

“You’re sweating like crazy.” 

“Eddie, that’s the sort of thing you don’t say to a girl,” you say, hands shaking hard as you ruffle through the duffle bag at your side. Your knees burn like they’re on fire, your arms raked with claw marks, but Eddie’s been minced. If you hadn’t climbed your way back to him with the makeshift flamethrower at his feet, Eddie would probably be dead. Scorched demobat is a gross smell. 

“What are you so scared of? It’s like, running down your cheek,” he says. 

“Shut up,” you say, glancing back, hoping Dustin will be right behind you. You hadn’t stopped to make sure he was alright. What if he’s hurt too? “Seriously, just don’t talk. You’re gonna bleed to death and die and your last words are gonna be about how sweaty I am.” 

You peel back a soaked square of gauze from his waist and smash a clean one overtop to soak up the pooling blood. Eddie gasps in agony, writhing away from your touch, but to his credit, his voice is strong as he says, “Shit, true. I can make them better. How about, um… oh. You’re smoking. Like, seriously gorgeous. That better?” 

Your eyes sting as you turn your face to your shoulder, cupping his cheek, his blood wet on your fingers and staining his skin red. “How would you know? It’s dark out.” 

“I’ve seen your face in the light hundreds of times. I know what I’m talking about.” 

He would’ve been turned to mulch without your rescuing. There are split cuts all over him, it’s awful, and you won’t be able to fix him yourself here, but you don’t have to. You just need to stop his bleeding and help him deal with the pain until Dustin makes it through. The two of you can drag him to safety. 

Maybe the best way to do that is to let him tease you. “You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, pressing another piece of gauze over this second one, wincing when he lets out a pained gasp. 

“Are you kidding?” 

“I thought you liked, you know, the really pretty girls, like–”

“You are a really pretty girl, are you kidding? Don’t fish for compliments.” 

You shake your head, laughing, half-terrified. The blood isn’t slowing. “Eddie, I have to press down harder, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“Just do it,” he says. You dig the heel of your palm into his side. “Fuck!” 

“You’re really not gonna like this next part,” you warn, pushing his legs flat to the floor. 

You climb over his thighs and sit on his lap, hand twisted to cover his wound and the other peeling the paper covering off of another sterile square of gauze. Eddie swears like a sailor as you squeeze down, the majority of your upper weight being pressed to his open wounds. It would be an uncomfortable sensation without the cuts. You know it’s torture. 

“Oh, god,” he says, “I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

“That’s a great reaction,” you say, lifting the edge of the leftmost gauze. The blood pools but doesn’t gush down his side. You sigh in relief. “Oh, thank god.” 

“Maybe don’t say stuff like that sitting on my crotch.” 

“Are you for real?” You meet his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re really thinking about your dick right now?” 

“Of course not, I’m a gentleman, but you’re kind of on top of me and it’s been a really hard week.” 

You burst out laughing. He gags in pain and turns away. 

The cavalry arrives not long after that, though it feels like hours. Together, somehow, you drag Eddie back to the gate, and things get a little blurry after that. 

—

You’ve never been so tired in your life as you are right now, but you’re so relieved that the world has taken on a golden quality, and Eddie looks golden too. 

His hair is wet. You think Wayne might’ve washed it for him over the bath; it’s been greasy for a week while his stitches started to heal up, and he spent it in Steve’s bed. The only good thing about having absent parents apparently is being able to harbour a fugitive without being noticed, and anybody else who couldn’t go home without explaining their injuries. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks. 

“Mm.” You scrunch up into yourself on the couch, cradling your arm where it aches to your chest. 

“You’ve been sleeping all day. Figured I’d make sure you weren’t in a coma.” You think about poor Max. He must see your wavering expression, sitting on the couch by your legs with an apologetic smile. “She’s doing even better today. Sinclair thinks she was squeezing his finger, so that’s something.” 

“Can’t believe all that stuff really happened,” you mumble, the blanket pulled over your chin muffling your voice. It’s a wonder he can hear you. 

“Feels fake, right? I keep forgetting about it when I wake up, and then I have to stand and feel my stomach try to split open and remember I was bat chow.” He nods to your arm. “Still hurting?” 

It’s nothing compared to his. Your cuts didn’t need stitching, but the were deep still. You’ve only had the butterfly bandages taken off yesterday. The skin aches where the scar tissue is forming. “Sort of itchy,” you say.

“Yeah?” He pulls a little white tube from his pyjama pants hesitantly. “Maybe I can help?” 

“What’s that?” 

“Non disclosed ointment. Pretty sure it’s the good stuff from Mike’s girl’s government friends.” 

They’re gonna clear Eddie’s name, apparently. So far they’ve done a whole lot of nothing while Hawkins falls apart around you. Well, besides the drugs. They’ve given out plenty of painkillers. 

Eddie shuffles closer to you and takes your arm into his hand. “Her name is Eleven,” you say. 

“I know.” He pushes your sleeve up over the bump of your elbow to expose the worst of your scarring. 

You think he’s aware of what you did that day to save him. He’s been achingly nice to you since he woke up. Even when he couldn’t walk, he’d been shouting down the stairs from Steve’s room to check if you were alright on the couch. Usually met with a chorus of Shut the fuck ups, it had been sweet, if a little embarrassing to have to call back. I’m okay. Thanks! 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he says. 

You watch him uncap the ointment and squeeze a ball of it onto his finger. It’s semi-translucent, smelling of arnica with a bit of kick to it. He turns your wrist gently in one hand and begins to trace the lines of your scars one by one, as gentle as anyone’s ever touched you, his pinky finger suspended and shaky as he draws toward the crook of your elbow.

“Well, don’t leave me waiting,” you say eventually. 

“Right, just. I’m trying to be braver. It’s not working in my favour yet.” 

You laugh. “No, really?” 

“But you saved my life. Everybody knows it. You and Henderson saved me, and I can’t make it up to you. This,” —he smooths ointment over the ridge of your cruellest scar— “is permanent. And scaring you like that, I mean. I shouldn’t have gone back in, and I should have kept running, it was selfish, trying to do a good thing and…” He holds your arm in his hands and meets your eyes. You don’t see a trace of the shrill, loud boy you’d spent the last two weeks with. “Getting you hurt.” 

“I got hurt trying to save the world,” you say. “‘Cos, you know, not everything’s about you…” 

His smile is slow as molasses and doubly sweet as he wraps his arm behind your shoulders. He’s careful, you’re both fragile right now, but he squeezes you and laughs warmly against your ear and he’s back to the Eddie you remember. “Everything is about me. It’s totally about me, babe, and you’re just jealous.”

He rubs your back. 

“You know,” he adds, hand trialling lazily to the small of your back, where it stays, “I wouldn’t be here without you. So if you need anything, just let me know.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, pulling back. He kisses your cheek as he does, his hands falling on top of yours. “Alright. You’re still smoking hot, you know that? The scars are sick. You’re cool now.” 

Your fingers twitch against his palm. “Thanks, Eddie.” 

[userautumn]

Hey! :) I just saw your new FAQ. What aspects of bucktommy do you enjoy? :)

Hello! I'm going to assume this question is asked in good faith, mainly because I wanna talk about them !! 😗✌🏾

I like that Buck heard Tommy make fake mouth static at the fire chief and immediately wanted to be barefoot and pregnant by this man. Peak comedy. Man is so cringefail loser that he made Buck discover a whole new sexuality. Who will love me like this, says the bisexual who is already aware she is bisexual. Okay moving on

Tommy's little head tilt on the basketball court. Not specifically a BuckTommy thing but something I am wildly into nonetheless.

I like that Tommy came over to talk to Buck about what went down with Eddie. Once you get past the "how the fuck did he even know where he lives?" of it all, because details don't matter when you have a 40 minute network TV slot, I just really like that Tommy didn't just recognize there was a problem, or didn't just recognize his own role in the problem between Buck and Eddie. He actually took time and initiative to try and fix it. He didn't have to do that. He could have looked at Buck and said, "Wow this grown man has issues. He needs to work on that" and just carried on with what he was doing. He would have been well within his right to do that, actually. But he went over to Buck's with the intention of clearing the air and that was very kind and mature of him.

I like that Tommy is very separately friends with Eddie, which isn't a BuckTommy thing exactly. But I remember years ago, when we (fandom) would talk about Buck and Eddie's current partners at the time (Ana and Taylor), we would always say, "whoever they end up with needs to be okay with Buck and Eddie's weirdness for each other, otherwise it's not gonna work." And, like, as far as we've seen so far, Tommy is okay with it. When he went over to Buck's, he mentioned Christopher specifically, mentioned (in so many words) that he's not trying to disrupt their family unit, and that's all I could really ask for out a non-Eddie/non-Buck partner. That checks all my boxes, if we're honest because that family unit is, quite literally, everything to me.

Tommy wants to teach Buck. He wants to give him flying lessons and teach him Muay Thai. Sorry I love a man who gives patient, and occasionally horny, instruction. As if that's my fault.

Tommy's fingers on Buck's chin when he kisses him. Swooning just thinking about it. 🙂‍↕️

I like that Tommy left Buck on the curb. Now, I know this was VERY controversial for some people. But, like, Buck is not a five year old. He didn't die, and his actions had a consequence. Everyone was like "he should have told him he was leaving him!" But. Okay. When did he have time? They got the check -> Eddie showed up -> Eddie left -> Buck and Tommy got up to leave -> Tommy said he was leaving. By MY approximation, that is the only quiet moment they had for him to say that he was making his exit. But! I could be wrong! Either way! 💕 I like that he wasn't mean about it. He knows his worth enough to not put up with bullshit, unlike Taylor, for example, who stayed with Buck even after he kissed someone else and I think someone who knows their worth and who's going to clock him on his shit is something Buck is going to appreciate in a partner.

I like that Tommy showed up to the coffee date. I like that Buck asked him to show up to the coffee date. I love that being with Tommy inspires Buck to take action in his own relationships instead of just settling. 9-1-1 really clocked his (and Maddie's) tea when they called them "the fugitive and the settler." Buck settles into these relationships, without really considering whether or not it's what he wants, because he's scared of being alone. That's always been his problem. But he wants Tommy, wants him to the point of taking action in order to have him, and that's 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 That's the money shot, baby !!

I really, really, really like that Tommy promised Buck he'd be there for the wedding and then tried everything in his power to show up. And did show up. It's my favorite BuckTommy thing. Buck needs someone outside of his codependent family clusterfuck (affectionate) to show up for him, and no one before Tommy ever has. Abby relied on him emotionally so heavily, Ali was more of his emotional equal but was unable to handle his job. Taylor was... Taylor, and Natalia was mostly interested in his death. So Buck hasn't really had a partner who has actively prioritized him before and so far, Tommy seems to. I really like that.

"EvAn," said in all Tommy's many, gently exasperated and/or deeply adoring tones

My second favorite BuckTommy thing is how earnest and attentive Tommy is to Buck's emotional needs. Which circles back to the first bullet point I made, because it's such a consistent theme with them. But when Bobby was hurt, Buck was ready and willing to brush off how he was feeling about that experience. This makes sense because, looking at his other partners, Buck has very rarely had the emotional space to lay his burdens at their feet. But Tommy clocked his angst and hit him first with that look, that said he was reading him, assessing him, and then hit him again with the "you okay?" and allowed Buck to say as much or as little as he wanted. I really like that, that's beautiful to me.

Canon Daddy kink. Sorry, it has to be said. Of all the ships I've had where I've looked at one guy (gn), and looked at the other guy (gn), and been like "oh yeah, y'all definitely get into some freak shit," never in my LIFE has it been made canon. The sun is shining, the world is a beautiful place, etc etc

So yeah, those are a few of my favorite BuckTommy things! They're fun, they're my new favorite toy, and I love them. Hope this helps!

[probablyintensemuses]

mike and marcus running to their friend reader after they’re wanted and her meeting armando for the first time, but to his surprise she can speak spanish after he tried to insult her by saying she might not be trust worthy in spanish 😚🙏🏾

a/n: Ha! I love this prompt so much, so here we go!! Also, I posted these pictures simply because I’m thirsty. You’re welcome.

A thunderous rapp against your door rung out through your apartment.

Immediately you shot up from your seat, grabbing the gun holstered underneath your coffee table.

You crept towards the door, your gun hiding at your hip as you looked through your peep hole.

To your surprise, it was Mike and Marcus.

You sighed, pushing your forehead against the door.

It had been a long few days since they’d been announced fugitives, the whole of Florida and the government hunting them down.

You slip your gun into the back of your pants and unlock your apartment door.

Quickly, Mike and Marcus pile in, smothering you with hugs.

“God, it’s so good to see you, girl.” Marcus says. “Now, where’s the snacks?”

You frown up your face, taking in their foul scents. “Enough about the snacks,’ you plug your nose, distorting your voice. “You need a shower first.”

“Exactly,’ Mike combed through your cabinet and pulled out a glass.

You fold your arms over your chest. “That goes for you too, Mr. Lowery.”

“Thanks,” Mike smiled, taking a swig of water. “We will, but there is just one more thing…” he trailed off, but before he could get a word out, your door flung open.

You whip out your gun, pointing it at whoever just walked through, for all you know, they could be dangerous.

“Whoa,’ Mike pushes off the counter, coming between you and the intruder. “This is my son, Armando.”

You lower your gun, his face suddenly registering in your brain. You remembered seeing him on the screen as wanted along side Mike and Marcus.

“I thought I told you to wait outside,’ Mike whispers.

“I didn’t want to leave you inside with her,’ Armando glares at you, taking in your slender frame and steel demeanor. “Ella podría ser peligrosa y una traidora.”

Mike nods. “She’s not, trust me.”

“Yeah,’ you chime in, brushing past Armando and shutting your door. You observe the new dent in your wall, thanks to his forceful opening of the door, and roll your eyes thinking about the security deposit you wouldn’t be getting back. “I’m not a traitor.”

“But I am dangerous,’ you glare at him and point to your damaged wall. “Entonces vas a pagar por eso?”

Armando’s eyes widen, then narrow as he glares at you. “¿tú hablas español?”

You nod, taking in his wretched scent as well. “Sí. ¿Crees que sólo porque soy negro no puedo hablar español?

Armando’s eyes fill with worry as he shakes his head. “no, yo solo—,”

You playful punch his firm bicep. “I’m kidding, but let’s finish the conversation on how I became fluent in Spanish later. For now, everyone, shower…please.” You gag.

Translations:

Ella podría ser peligrosa y una traidora. | “she could be dangerous and a traitor.”

Entonces vas a pagar por eso? | “so, are you going to pay for that?”

¿tú hablas español? | you can speak Spanish?

Sí. ¿Crees que sólo porque soy negro no puedo hablar español? | yes. You think because I’m black I can’t speak Spanish?

No, yo solo | no, i just—

[umbrellacam]

Azrael: Agent of the Bat #56 - No Man's Land Dick: "Scared, kid?" Tim: "Not really. A little nervous, I guess." Tim: "Who am I kidding? I'm scared. I feel like those soldiers must have felt right before D-Day." Dick: "D-Day, as in World War Two? You must stay awake in history class." Tim: "We're only up to the Spanish-American War, but I saw the Spielberg movie. Really bloody." Dick: "I hope it doesn't get that bad." Tim: "It won't, will it?" Tim: "Will it?"

Okay, several things I enjoy about this moment.

1. I'm just being so well-fed in terms of great Dick & Tim interactions in this era. Cataclysm, Brotherhood of the Fist, Road to NML, breaking into NML in Robin #67 with classic annoying-older-brother!Dick and Tim panicking about his safety when Dick does a quick death fake-out (typical, honestly lol)... And now with an introspective moment to themselves in the calm before the storm - in Azrael's book no less, lol! I wonder if this came from Dennis O'Neil as something he wanted to include or if it was collaboratively planned as a building-tension moment by the writing/editing teams plotting NML.

2. Tim confiding in Dick my beloved <3 But also - Tim lying at first that he's not really scared, before deciding to just be honest. He has these moments of such earnestness at times (not only with Dick (also YJ, Bruce, Steph, Cass), but often) and they're even more striking because of how prone he is to lying, secrecy, glossing over things and pretending to be fine, etc. most of the time.

He's still pretty young here, barely 15 if that, and his tendencies definitely get worse over time, but he's already wrestled with lying to his Dad, Ariana, Steph, and his other friends, already pretended to be fine to Dick's face in Contagion and Legacy when he was actively dying or under threat of doing so again, refused to tell his Dad he was ever even sick, lied to Bruce's face about Secret, etc... It just sticks out to me so much whenever he chooses to go - yeah, okay, I'll be open with you right now even if it makes me vulnerable.

3. Dick not answering him!! Is that last panel, where we can't see him over Tim's shoulder even though he's positioned right behind him in the others, implying that Dick straight up vanished in order to avoid having to lie or be vulnerable himself lmfao? (I mean, probably not, but the thought is v. funny.)

On the other hand, Dick's silence as a type of honesty and vulnerability in and of itself... We know that as much as Dick likes teasing Tim, he also likes to comfort him, to be that figure of strength and reassurance to him. For him to be the one asking Tim if he's scared in the first place, and then not be able to scrape up anything more than "yeah, hope it doesn't get as bad as literal D-Day" and foreboding silence when Tim admits that he is scared...

It makes me think of that contrasting moment in Murderer/Fugitive later on, where Dick does tell Tim the comforting lie, that he'll always be safe with Batman and Nightwing, that everything will be okay, and desperately wants Tim to believe it.

No such comforting lies in No Man's Land, apparently.

[stuckyslut8]

"oh captain! my captain!"

Pairing :nomad steve x reader

Summary : steve comes to meet you after a long time, but you wanna be a brat so he puts you in your place.

Warning : 18+, smut,but gets fluffier. degradation kink, captain kink ,oral , a bit of breeding at the end. Dom/sub vibes. y/n's a slut . So many typos.

"Hey pretty girl." He greeted you as you opened the door to your home.

"Steve ..what're you doing here?"oh you were pissed. You got in quickly and closed the door in fear someone's gonna see him, steve was still a fugitive on run after all.

He didn't answer your question instead pushed you against the door and started nibbling your neck ,leaving kisses along the way . "That's no way to greet you captain sweetheart...is it." He asked as he pulled down your pants.

"Well that's no way to treat your girlfriend sweetheart, three months of ghosting me?" You still let him take off your shirt and bra too, letting him suck on your nipples that haven't seen anything but your touch for so long.

You shuddered as he played with your other nipple, you couldn't stop your moaning at this point . "Steve ..."

"What was that sweetheart? You forgot how to adress me too?" You could sense the irritated tone of his voice, but you weren't backing down now.

"Hmm maybe you shouldn't have left me all by myself then rogers." You looked him in the eye giving him your naughty look that you knew he liked so much.

"bad girl..so mouthy, what am i gonna do with you now huh?" He slapped your pussy through your panties, making you clench.

"Punish me captain." You said licking your lips.

With that steve threw you over his shoulders ,landing a smack on your ass. "Such a dirty slut so desperate for punishment aren't you?" *smack

"Yes sir."

He threw you on your bed rather ungracefully but safely, he was always cautious as to not use his full strength when around you.

"And What do you want your captain to do to you." You got on all fours ,wiggling your panty clad ass towards him, "spank me captain."

Steve put his hands on his chin, pretending to think, "hmm but that would only make you do more bad things pretty girl, i know how much you like getting spanked by your captain. So we're not gonna do that." You turned around to give him a pout.

"Oh don't do that ,come here now and suck your captain."

You crawled to him with a cheeky grin on your face, "what makes you think i won't be bad again just to suck your cock captain?"

Steve moaned at your words, he would never admit how much your dirty talk turns him on but he doesn't have to, you can clearly see it as his erection pokes out.

"Just get to work you little slut." He stood with his hands behind his back ,like he was just giving out orders to his team on the quinjet, which made it even hotter.

"Yes sir." You gave him a little salute as you unbuckled his pants and pulled him out.

You could see how hard he was ,precum leaking from his tip, you almost felt bad for him ,as he had no way but to just get himself off these past months, so you didn't wanna tease him as usual you got straight to work and took him.

Smearing aorund the precum with your tongue and playing with his balls using your hands, you started bobbing your head up and down as good as possible, just how he liked it. "God fuck y/n i missed this, missed you baby." He cried in pleasure

It was only a matter of time before he came , and you swallowed it up eagerly, knowing your captain doesn't like his cum getting wasted.

"Good girl now lay on your back." You did as he said. He took off his shirt in a swift move and came to you, tearing off your panties.

"Now now, since you were a good girl and took your punishment captain's gonna fuck you, alright?" You nodded.

"Words pretty girl. "

"Yes captain."

He stretched you out with two fingers at first ,you thought he was gonna let you cum but retracted them just as you got close and entered you in one thrust, filling you nicely with his veiny cock. "Fuck captain, feels so good."

"I know i know pretty girl, you're such a slut for your captains cock." He stared fucking into you slowly, then changee his phase to pounding you , making you thrust your hips up, he took it as a cue and threw your legs over his shoulders, hitting you deeper ,making you see the stars, your legs were gonna be so sore tomorrow .

"Fuck stevie I'm gonna cum." You said holding on to his arm.

"Cum for me pretty girl, let go ,cum for your captain." You had your release before he could even finish his sentence but he kept fucking you through it, torturing your already sensitive pussy, making you come once again spon after.

"Uhm stevie .." you said as you recovered from your second orgasm. "I'm not on the pill don't -"

But it was too late, you could feel his hot cum painting your walls already, steve tried to pull out as soon as he realized what you were saying,spraying the rest of his release on your belly.."shit shit, sorry sweetheart-i should've known. " his voice was still shaky from the orgasm.

"It's okay, what's the worst that's gonna happen? I'm gonna get knocked up?by my captain?" You pulled him towards you ,giving him a deep kiss, which left both of you out of breath.

"Yeahh, that's - that's not so bad sweetheart." He said holding your face in his palm, "besides..besides I've been thinking about that lately. "

"Really ?" You asked .

"Yeahh it was all i can think about most nights, you ,me and our little family." You could see the tears forming in his eyes.

"Stevie you're gonna make me cry."

"Do you want that too?"

"Of course captain, I'd love that "

"I love you. " he pressed a kiss to your forehead .

"I love you too." You said pulling him into a hug, and he flipped you both over as you laid on his chest. "Let's do it then Stevie, let's have a family."

"You want me to knock you up." He said with a laugh.

"Sir yes sir " you said trying to sound like a soldier.

"Alright then bucky, come in let's knock my girl up." You turned your head to the door as it opened to see the one and only james Buchanan barnes coming through. Has he been here the whole time?

A/N : yes i made it stucky, cuz why two is always better than one. Part 2 might take a while.

[peaxhygirl]

𝙰𝚁𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾 𝙰𝚁𝙴𝚃𝙰𝚂 𝚇 𝙵𝙴𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁

: ̗̀➛𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙾𝙲

: ̗̀➛𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: On the final night of an AMMO investigation their bust is blown up by an unexpected party.

: ̗̀➛𝙰𝙽: Hey y'all! This is my first time writing in a while, so it hope it doesn't suck lmao. Let me know if you guys are interested in this series cause I got lots more to come!

AMMO's newest addition to the team was Armando Aretas. That's right, the same Armando Aretas that had been a convicted drug dealer, cop killer, and fugitive.

It took some serious string pulling but Rita and Judy managed to get Armando amnesty due to his help with bringing down Lockwood and McGrath. It took a while, but they managed to get it done. In exchange, he needed to work with Miami PD.

Armando was a dangerous man, that was true enough, but he was also an asset. Better to have him on your team than to be against him. Plus, it helped everyone keep an eye on him. He hadn't quite earned the trust of those in his new life.

There was a part of him that didn't care. He'd lived this long without the approval or validation of others, so what was different? Then there was a part of him that wanted to put that behind him. His previous life was a tiresome one.

AMMO had been steaking out a night club for about a week. They'd finally gathered enough proof for them to carry out their raid. Tonight was the night, they just needed to get the green light from their UC.

"Yo, Mike. You think we could stop at that hot dog shack on the corner after this?" Marcus attempted to whisper but the small space in the truck provided no privacy. "Hell no, Marcus. Teresa just said your cholesterol was sky high and you gained about three pounds this month."

"Uh.., now, see. Did you have to put my business out there like that, Mike?" Armando shook his head. His father and surrogate uncle were admittedly the best part of his new life, even if they were annoying. "Will you two shut up?" He muttered.

Kelly and Dorn's smirks of amusement always seemed to be present whenever they were with the three men. "Hey hey hey. What's happening?"

Armando's eyes locked on the commotion breaking out on the scene. The place was getting swarmed. Their UC hadn't sent the signal so it sure as shit wasn't them. A woman appeared on screen gun drawn and shouting for everybody to get down. "Who the fuck is that?"

After the raid ended, AMMO exited their van. Armando charging over to the woman who was speaking to who he could only assume she was debriefing to. This woman was clearly police, but she wasn't with them, so as far as he was concerned-- She was out of line. The area was lit up with flashing red and blue lights, cops littered throughout the parking lot, but he was zeroed in on her.

"What the fuck was that and who the fuck are you?" His accent thick in anger at this woman who'd just blew up his mission. His first big chance at showing the team he was really with them.

"Excuse me? You better back the fuck up that's who the fuck I am. Who the fuck are you?" She was feisty that's for sure, responding to him in the same way he'd come at her. In all honesty, it'd taken her a moment to register he was speaking to her because, what?? His hostility towards her was at an all time high for someone who she'd never laid eyes on before.

"Your little raid fucked up our cocaine bust." His nostrils flared in anger as he stepped to the woman a few inches shorter than him. "Or maybe your cocaine bust got in the middle of my prostitution bust." She shot back. "Again, who the hell are you?" The low rasp of his voice was venomous. "I don't answer to you, I don't even know who you are. Let's start with that before charging over here like you hot shit or something."

Armando opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Marcus. "Hey! Ok, everyone. Let's just calm down." Marcus laughed nervously, stepping between the two of them. "Miss, I'm so sorry for Armando. You know, it's that Latin fire in 'em. Hard to turn off. Um, I'm Marcus and We're AMMO. You are?"

"Raven." Her tone softened but her eyes still blazed with anger in the direction of the young male, who was admittedly cute but clearly had her fucked up. "Vice."

[impossiblesuitcase]

You know the line in Cress where it mentions the rumour that Cinder "seduced Emperor Kaito and was now pregnant with a Lunar-Earthen-cyborg thing"?

Imagine if Kai was just a little more unhinged. He doesn't want Cinder to get captured and killed, so at a press conference he practically pulls the Peeta Mellark 'If it weren't for the baby' line. A journalist asks, "what of the rumour that the fugitive is carrying your child?"

And Kai, with a solemn expression, says cryptically, "these are hard times for all, for a number of reasons. Even for myself."

The world explodes. The EC military are freaking out because they can't risk harming the future heir, so the worldwide hunt for Linh Cinder is thrown in for a loop. Alas, Kai doesn't know that Cinder is Selene, so by implying that she is pregnant, Levana is even more determined to kill the two heirs to the Lunar throne and hunts Cinder even more viciously.

Meanwhile Cinder is furious and mortified. Thorne teases her endlessly about it ("I am NOT pregnant! We haven't even hugged!" "You were smooching him at the ball!" "That's different!!"). When Jacin says the line, "one more fling with your toy before he becomes Levana's property", she punches him twice.

Then when they kidnap Kai, she rips into him. "You made me out to be a teen mother! Do you know embarrassing that is?!" He rebuts, "I was trying to help you!"

One successful revolution later, the public are confused why there's no mention of this 'baby'. So in an interview, Kai is asked, "so, is Queen Selene pregnant with your child or not?"

Kai bursts out laughing. "Pregnant? Wherever did you get that idea?"

"...you confirmed it in a press conference."

"I never said she was pregnant."

He straight up gaslights them into believing he never said a thing. It's hilarious. And then when Cinder and Kai are eventually married and actually pregnant, the world is scared to believe it and be tricked again.