#They're both exhausted from the adrenaline

[softquietsteadylove]

For the bodyguard AU:

A crazy Fan attacks Thena with a knife on stage. Luckily Gil is there to protect her👀

The crowd was roaring with enthusiasm for her performance. She was coming off the high of a few straight shows that had gone well. The audience was feeling excited, and it had even spread to Thena, penetrating her pessimistic shell.

Thena waved to them as they applauded her efforts. She swallowed, feeling the fatigue in her vocal cords after the full set she had performed. Nothing like a full concert, but evident none the less. She backed up from the microphone.

"Athena! Athena, you're my goddess!"

Gil looked out from backstage, trying to find where the voice had come from.

Thena also scanned the crowd, but couldn't find anyone who might have been able to be heard so above and beyond everyone else. She tried not to let it show on her face.

"Athena, I love you!"

She looked closer to the front, wondering who possessed that voice. It was male, deep, rough. Everyone close to the barricades seemed to be younger fans jumping and waving.

"Athena, be mine!"

Her chest rose and fell more quickly. This was becoming more of a situation by the second, but she couldn't pinpoint the source. She took a few more steps back, her hand subconsciously reaching behind her for a comforting presence.

Gil emerged from backstage to meet her halfway. Usually his code of conduct - per the label's insistence - was to be present but not seen. But this was an exception, "come on."

"I said you're mine, you bitch!"

Gil pulled Thena behind him, holding out his arms and making his surface area replace Thena's tiny frame behind him. He searched the crowd for himself, with eyes trained to detect problems like this.

Security dove for the man, but he must have had training in something. Because all they did was provide him with a staircase of bodies he could use to launch himself onto the stage.

"Athena!"

Gil's eyes focused in on the knife in his hand. There were worse weapons to face, but the best one to disarm was none. He held out his hand, "put it down!"

The assailant charged at them, fuelled by either delusion or a more powerful, more tangible substance. He came in swinging, "she's mine!"

Thena curled up behind Gil, not able to do much else in the given situation.

Gil moved only as close as needed to grab the assailant's hands by the wrists. So long as he could overpower him, he could keep the threat minimal. "Don't even think about it!"

Gil was stronger than the freak jumping impossible distances up onto the stage. He raised their hands above their heads, not leaving much room to get stabbed in the crosshairs. "Let it go!"

Bodies in yellow and black polo shirts came rushing out; better late than never, at least. The venue security rushed the assailant, enough of them piling on the threat that it didn't matter what was in his system, he went down hard.

The knife clattered away across the stage. The crowd screamed.

Gil didn't wait to see what would become of the animal, or deliver any last words. He turned around, pulling Thena into his arms and rushing her off stage, "come on."

Thena clung to him.

"Move, move, out of the way!" Gil barked at anyone who so much as came near them. This was his job, this was his protectee, his client: this was Thena. "Make some room!"

He led them straight through the backstage and out of the building. He wasn't making any stops in any dressing rooms, Kingo would bring them anything they had left behind. His priority now was getting Thena alone and safe with him.

She followed him silently, clinging to him.

Gil held his jacket up and in front of her face as they made their way to the car waiting for them. As always, no matter how they tried, there were still fans clambering to get a glimpse of the Goddess of War in her human form. "Back up!"

Thena climbed into the SUV, immediately sliding over in the backseat so Gil could slide in after her, no need to go around to the other door. He jumped in, nearly cracking his head on the frame in his haste. He slammed it closed and leaned forward, "drive!"

The ride service didn't ask questions.

Gil put the divider up immediately, looking over at Thena, "hey."

"I'm okay," she exhaled, with only some trembling in it. She pushed her hair out of her face.

"Thena," he repeated, moving until their legs were squished together on the hard and uncomfortable leather seats. "Look at me."

"I'm okay, she repeated before he held her cheeks, guiding her gently to meet his eyes. Her face crumbled.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pulling her into his shoulder as he rubbed her back. No matter how expected or calculated a risk it was, it was still someone threatening her safety and life. He never blamed her for feeling rattled by the actions of those obsessed with her persona.

Thena shook her head against him, still pressing her eyes into his suit jacket. She was dismissing herself.

"Hey, no one would blame you," he said gently, holding the trembling songstress. "He came at you with a knife, Thena. It never should have happened."

She let out a breath, even more shuddery than the last. "You shouldn't have to keep doing this."

Protecting her? "Thena, it's my job to do this. I'm certainly not gonna let you fight these creeps by yourself."

"I mean it!" she lifted her head, pursing her lips in that stubborn way she had.

He brushed away some of her tears, careful of the eye makeup she had on that was admirably still in place. "I do too, Thena. I'm not going to let anyone get away with shit like that."

Thena pulled back, brushing more of her tears off his lapel and clearing her throat, which any vocalist usually did their best to avoid doing. She sniffled, "this seems to keep happening."

Gil let her fuss over him, if it made her feel better about it, "a couple times in a year is a pretty bad streak."

Thena looked at him in the dim light of the back of the limo. "I know you're saying it's not a big deal, but I've watched you had to fight a few too many psychos for my liking. And I still haven't forgotten when that mob of Eros' little fan-children mobbed you."

Gil chuckled, "that was a pretty bizarre fight to have."

"I wouldn't call it a fight," Thena grumbled but sat back again with a sigh. She flicked some hair over her shoulder, "at least the show was good. Although I'm sure Kingo is already bursting a blood vessel over the coverage of that attack."

"It was pretty open to see that the guy was nuts," Gil shrugged, already reaching into his suit jacket for both their phones. "Limo's taking us straight home. Do you want delivery?"

She looked up from her phone as he handed it to her, giving him the saddest, greenest eyes, like a kitten in the rain. She nodded.

How could he ever say no to that? He opened the app, "mood?"

"Surprise me," she sighed, looking down at her phone to check what Kingo was saying.

"Okay," Gil chuckled, already knowing to order her a comforting bowl of ramen with some dumplings on the side. He claimed one of her hands with his, even though it hindered her texting greatly.

She did visibly have trouble texting Kingo back with only her left thumb and a phone wider than her slim hand's width. But she gave him a squeeze back, grateful for the comfort.

[apartmentsmoke]

does Tommy find Buck's appalling table manners cute? when does he find out about them? you're always on your best behavior for a first date so Buck probably didn't shove a whole slice of pizza down his gullet at once. was it the wedding? both of them exhausted from the day's events, coming down from the adrenaline rush of their lobby kiss, and when Buck gets them both cake Tommy has a normal-sized bite while Buck swallows half the slice in one go? what if he doesn't find out until later - Eddie complaining how Buck stole half of Bobby's spaghetti before he got any - and Tommy says what on earth are you talking about? brings it up to Buck, who maybe says he's been on his best behavior around Tommy or maybe says that Tommy shouldn't be surprised at what he can swallow down. or maybe he finds out while they're having a meal in private together, when Buck's not thinking and eats like he normally would, tucking into his meal and not coming up for air only to find Tommy looking at him when he does. and he stammers a little bit, but Tommy smiles, says they're learning all sorts of things about each other - and then digs into his meal with equal zeal, because a man who was in the military and then a firefighter knows to eat his fill as quickly as he can

[ikarakie]

after everything, after all the adrenaline dies down, steve collapses one day whilst helping out at the school. the doctors say it was a delayed reaction, all his injuries finally catching up to him. the stress of everything making his stubborn ass keel over and finally give in.

everyone's fucking terrified. eddie and max are already in hospital beds, though at least they're awake. luckily lucas had been by steve's side as he fell and stopped his head smacking against the linoleum. for a fourth or fifth time.

the doctors assure them all he'll be fine. it was just exhaustion, his body needing some time to recover. there's nothing to worry about!

though when he wakes up, something is fucking wrong. robin tells everyone as much through tears, how he'd woken up and asked who she was. that all he knew was his name and basic information about himself.

dustin is beside himself when steve does the same to him. he'd held onto this hope that he'd be different. steve was like his brother, of course he'd remember him, right?

but no. no, the only person steve seems to remember is eddie munson. not only that, but he's convinced they're dating. won't listen to anyone who tells him otherwise. it's all a bit much, no one really knows what's happening with him, if he'll ever remember them. the case is forwarded, with vague promises that they would do whatever they can. but they needed the bed, so he can't stay.

when he's discharged, he beelines for eddie's room. he's in there and by eddie's side before anyone can even fucking blink, or attempt to stop him. eddie lights up seeing him, then dims a little, asking if he's okay, asking why he's up, if his head hurts at all. (dustin had kept him informed, but neglected to mention the whole 'steve thinks you're dating' thing. didn't want to stress his friend out any more than he was, you see.)

and steve just... kisses him. everyone freezes, but eddie only melts, leaning into it like it's natural. dustin is two seconds away from breaking them apart when they hear him ask, in the smallest voice ever,

"you remember me?" steve just nods, like an overexcited puppy. grinning from ear to ear.

and that's how everyone finds out that, no, steve's brain isn't as scrambled as they thought. he's just actually been dating eddie since a little after starcourt. and they've both been somehow hiding it from everyone.

(steve's memories fade back in eventually. eddie never lets the fact he's the only one he remembered go. ever.)

[arthursfuckinghat]

So, I've been wondering something.

In red dead online, there isn't too much use for Dead Eye because it doesn't/can't slow time down since you're playing on a server. It's still a powerful skill if you work on the upgrades for it, but one thing I noticed a lot (because I rarely use Dead Eye in online mode) is that your character really doesn't like having a low Dead Eye meter.

As in, your character will cover their eyes and scrunch up their face and wince as if they've got a bad headache (this goes for playing in story mode too). Now I know they're just visual cues for the player to see and be able to tell that the Dead Eye is low (because your aim is much worse with low Dead Eye), but the implications are pretty interesting to me.

So the question is, does having low Dead Eye hurt and why?

We know that both Dead Eye and Eagle Eye are learned skills, and things like cigarettes, cigars, chewing tobacco, alcohol, snake oil and cheese all benefit your Dead Eye when it's low. It's a crucial meter, just like your heath or stamina - which raises more questions in itself.

Dead Eye and Eagle Eye are fascinating to me because they're very valuable abilities that can be used at will, and have specific set limits for how long they can be used at a time.

But only Dead Eye needs regular sustenance, or "feeding" I suppose.

This gives me the impression that Dead Eye is constantly dormant, instead of something that's "turned on" when needed. Like a constant state of being on high alert that's running on the sidelines of your character's day to day life.

When your character hasn’t used Dead Eye for a while and it still drains, it could mean their brain is struggling to maintain that high level of alertness in the background. This constant readiness, or the potential to drop into Dead Eye at any moment, would be like someone constantly being on high alert in real life. Even if they don’t act on it, the strain of staying ready for danger builds up.

Dead Eye uses an almost superhuman level of focus and precision. To enter that state of hyper awareness where time seems to slow down (even if it's just the perception of it), your character's brain might be working much harder than usual, forcing the mind into overdrive. Just like overusing muscles leads to physical fatigue, overworking the brain through intense focus could lead to mental exhaustion and physical symptoms, like headaches or vision problems.

And since Dead Eye depletes like a stamina bar and requires nourishment (cigarettes, alcohol, cheese), the skill could be linked to the body’s energy resources. Using Dead Eye probably increases your character's heart rate, sharpens reflexes, and probably even increases adrenaline production, which are all very taxing on the body.

Which makes sense as to why things like tobacco and alcohol help replenish it.

Stimulants like nicotine or the rush from alcohol might help keep that mental sharpness in check or at least alleviate the strain. It's as if the brain needs to be sharpened or soothed with substances because it's working overdrive in the background, even when you’re not actively engaging with Dead Eye.

So if we treat Dead Eye as something that affects the brain’s chemistry, like sharpening focus and precision, it could also deplete certain neurochemicals or hormones over time (adrenaline, dopamine, etc). Tobacco or alcohol might simulate the release of chemicals that help regulate those abilities. The discomfort your character feels when Dead Eye is low could well be on the same level as withdrawal symptoms, where the brain is craving more of those chemicals to return to its state of super focus.

I mean, what a fucking fascinating concept right?

Dead Eye is solely tied to heightened awareness for life or death situations, focusing entirely on people who can fight back and threaten your life. So while you're using it, you're engaging with targets that could potentially harm you, and that’s why it probably has such a taxing effect. Your mind and body are fully ramped up for combat, for precision, and for survival. It’s essentially a battle skill, designed for quick, decisive violence.

You also gain Dead Eye points for killing people, so you're not just using this dangerous skill, you're learning every time you use it and kill with it.

From a world building pov, this really deepens characters like Arthur or any other Dead Eye users. They're not just "good with guns" - they're managing the toll that comes with honing such a deadly skill. And unlike Eagle Eye, which is more of a passive, less draining ability, Dead Eye seems to tap into something more intense and unsustainable. Which is really fitting for their lifestyle.

Eagle Eye is taught through patience and understanding of the natural world, Dead Eye is forged in fire and the result of a life steeped in bloodshed and conflict.

[sxcret-garden]

ღ Ateez Mingi x fem-bodied!reader ღ words: ~1k ღ genre: smut (dom!Mingi, semi-public (they fuck backstage), oral (idol receiving), unprotected sex) ღ reader: has a vagina, no description of chest, no pronouns used to refer to reader ღ warnings: none ღ prompt: "Say my name."

Author's note: As you can probably tell, this was totally not inspired by Chella Mingi....

You're anxiously awaiting the end of the performance, watching each of their movements from backstage and having your eyes glued to one of the guys in particular. You don't know why you still get so nervous whenever they're on stage - by now you've been with them long enough to know they'll do well, and even more than that. They'll do amazing.

Today as well the crowd cheers loudly, and you can see exhausted but content smiles on their faces as they come off stage one by one. And then there's him. His shirt open, the writing on his chest still flawless despite the pearls of sweat dripping down his skin. And the expression on his face is different.

Mingi smirks at you when he approaches you, one corner of his mouth raised up higher than the other, and then he licks his lips, hungrily, the excess adrenaline from the performance still coursing through his veins - you can tell he needs an outlet, just like he always does. Wordlessly, you turn around and you walk towards one of the empty rooms backstage, closely followed by him, and the way he's breathing down your neck like a starving animal is only fuelling the excitement deep inside of you. The door is shut behind you, you don't know if he locked up but you sure didn't, and in the same moment he already has his lips attached to your neck, arms thrown around you and you can feel him digging his fingertips into your flesh. Your hand ends up placed on his stomach, you can feel it rising and sinking along with his still heavy breaths whenever his lips leave your nape for a second, and then suddenly he pulls away.

"I want you." He says it matter-of-factly, and yet his words burn like fire. You gulp. Mingi leans against the wall behind him, there's not much space in the room, merely a small table and some chairs, and with a look to the ground he signals to you where he wants you. You earn yourself a hum of approval as you drop down on your knees and you start by unbuckling his belt, soon having made way for his cock to spring free. "Suck me off," he orders, like he still has to tell you at this point, and as you peer up at his face and at the way he's devouring the sight in front of him, you get to work.

You know better than to tease him in this state, and yet you just can't help it. Swirling your tongue around his tip once, you withdraw, shoot him a cheeky glance, go back in for a few chaste licks that could not possibly be satisfying in any way.

"Hey," Mingi warns you, and the dark look in his eyes makes you shudder. You don't get to see him like this often, and it surprises you time and time again how much he affects you when he gets like this - demanding. With his large hand placed on top of your head as a warning, he doesn't need a single word to make you do what he wants you to. You take him into your mouth, and you start to slowly bob your head up and down, your hand at his base moving along with it. As always, it takes you a few repetitions to get used to his size, and he grants you that short amount of time, and soon enough you have him hitting the back of your mouth repeatedly as you suck him off, and everytime you gag a bit, a moan falls from his lips.

"Fuck," he curses loudly, seemingly not concerned about whether someone could hear you two from outside of the room. He throws his head back when a strained groan escapes him, and then suddenly, he pushes you away, making you almost tumble over and land on your ass. With urgency behind his actions, Mingi pulls you up to your feet, and when your eyes catch sight of the small table he's steering you towards, you unbutton your own pants. You bend over the tabletop, both your and his hands tearing at your clothes until your core is uncovered enough, and when his tip impatiently prods at your entrance, Mingi hisses another curse.

"Shit, you're that wet just from having my dick in your mouth?" You whine at his words and at the way he's teasing your folds, arching your back prettily in hopes he'd hurry up and fill up your aching cunt already. The rush of adrenaline sure took over you too, and when he pushes up inside you, you groan at the stretch. He holds still so you could adjust to him, but soon enough his patience runs out, and he grips onto your hips when he starts fucking into you at a relentless pace. Blood rushes to your head as the pain of his nails clawing at your flesh mixes with the pleasure of the way he hits that perfect spot inside of you over and over again, and already you know it's gonna take him a ridiculously short amount of time to have you falling apart under his touch.

"Say my name," Mingi growls behind you, and as your head starts to spin, you do as told.

"M-mingi..." you mewl. "Mingi, please... f-feels so good, Mingi..." You begin to stutter along with his hips, and you know he isn't going to last long anymore either.

"Fuck, babe, that's right..."

"M-mingi..." you hiccup, your voice higher with each time you repeat his name, while his only seems to be getting deeper.

"Fuck..." he growls, and as your high crashes down on you, making your legs shake while your walls contract around his thick cock, he's thrown over the edge too. The warm feeling of him releasing inside of you has you moaning his name once again, and then finally his movements cease, and he lets you catch your breath for a few seconds before helping you up.

"Shit, you're perfect," Mingi mumbles as he can't but pull you into a soothing embrace, his fingertips running down your body once - it's his way of checking that you're okay. 

"You too..." you answer, and it probably comes out slurred, as you have yet to fully recover from your high.

[nyarumie]

hey axia ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

enjoy the start of your semester, before uni gets crazy!! I loved your previous works, so I'll just slip into your inbox while the requests are open:3

What do you think would make Hoshina blush, or like, properly flustered?!

(be it headcanon, scenario, or whatever else you feel like, if anything:))

have a great day 🔆

Heart in Your Hands

hoshina soshiro x reader — fluff, comfort, they're both deeply in love, (god me when), short and sweet, established relationship

Author's Reply: Hi, thank you anon! I hope this work caters well to your request; finally got the time to work on something (which hopefully helps with my writer's block)

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! Please view my pinned and masterlist too (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

Trying to get Soshiro to blush is definitely rarer than a blue moon. Trust me, even his own platoon of talented rookies tried catching him off-guard — it's just near impossible!

Keyword: Near impossible. That's where you enter the picture.

As a Platoon Leader, you do your best to be a figure of inspiration to your officers, thus keeping up your facade of a strict mentor; but honestly—you’re not fooling anyone, you're totally a softie! Despite your personal ‘no-distractions-during-work’ policy, obvious signs of your feelings for the Vice Captain naturally slip out occasionally. Still, you refuse to get your relationship in the way of your work.

Behind closed doors lie the reserved intimacy and affection you held for him. He won't ever admit it, but he sometimes pushes himself too hard, hard enough to have scars and calluses all over his hands from his intense training, and you can only imagine how tight and desperate his grip is on his personalized close combat weapon.

He’s always desperate to prove his worth, desperate to keep the only thing that gives meaning to his existence, and you know that your words are not enough to quell the distress behind each swing and slash of his blades.

That's why you do what you know will calm him best—love him just as fierce as he swings those blades of his.

You caught him training again one night, exhaustion evident on his form. The adrenaline coursing through his body has yet to be quenched, and you know you have to do your magic to get him to rest.

“Soshiro. You're here again. One more night of this and you’ll really strain your body.” you softly said, concern evident in your voice.

He stopped midway his slash, breath heaving as he turned to face you. “Can't rest easy when the rookie officers are a whole ‘nother level, dear. If I don't do this, I doubt I’ll be able to get even the slightest hit on No. 9.”

Sighing, you made your way to him. “Put your weapon down for a while, please? Let me at least do something for you.”

Doing as you asked, he kept them somewhere safe and curiously stood in front of you again. He gave you an inquisitive look, patiently waiting for what you're planning to do.

You took his hands and caressed them, slowly feeling the roughness and evidence of all the nights he's spent bruising himself up just to get even stronger. You move his hands so that his palms are facing you, his eyes widening at your next move.

He felt a soft, careful kiss touch each of his palms, followed by a kiss to each of his fingertips.

He thinks his ears are on fire with how hot it's burning.

“W-what are ya doing, dear? I haven't cleaned my hands up!”

You entwined your hands with his before he could even pull them away, thinking that he didn't like what you just did. “I’m sorry, did I make you uncomf— Oh.”

Oh, indeed. The sight that greeted you when you turned your face up to see him is… remarkable. You can't believe the Third Division’s Vice Captain would be blushing over his significant other tenderly kissing his rough, tired hands.

“Ya didn't have to do that… I know you love me plenty! And please stop gripping on my hands harder, ya aren't letting me turn away!”

You snort. “Of course I won't let you. This is a rare sight. Still, I didn't know something like that could get you severely flustered.” you said, a hint of pride in your tone.

“Told ya I haven't cleaned ‘em up. I was holdin’ those nasty blades moments ago.”

“Ah, excuses. Just say you liked the kisses more than you expected. I’ll let you off this one time and say it's just out of exhaustion.” you giggled.

Your expression turned soft and serious again, now hugging him. His arms wrapped around you, a tired sigh coming from him. “You do so much for me, ya know that? I thought I was gonna explode earlier. Don't know what I did to deserve ya.”

“Mhm, ‘Shiro. You have no idea how at a loss I am sometimes to do something for you. I want to shoulder at least a piece of your burden, want you to share your pain with me without worrying about whether I can take it. Because I will, just for you. I’ll hold your hand whatever happens and stand side by side with you. All I ask is that you take care of yourself.”

He let out a soft laugh of relief. “I should be sayin’ these things to you. I hope ya know how amazing you are to me.”

You both pulled away from the hug, him taking a hand of yours in his. “Let's get some rest. Don't wanna worry my princess over here.”

Smiling in content, you nod your head at him. “Thank you, Soshiro.”

[crappymixtape]

baby let me in

REQUEST → @thecreelhouse , SUMMER BLURB PARTY ❝ 🌘 because of you prompt – angsty in-between at steve’s house post-upside down –* steve drives you home after vecna and cleans you up, but who’s gonna help him? | ( 1.2k – TW: blood, wounds, etc // steve harrington x reader, lovesick and a lil fluffy )

B A B Y L E T M E I N 🎶 even if the world don’t understand you, aquilo

Everything was a little hazy around the edges, soft in the low light of Steve’s parents’ room, your bare figures swimming in navy shadows and slivers of gold from the lamp on the nightstand. In any other circumstance this would feel different, charged, skin to skin on the bed and close enough to see the steady rising and falling of Steve’s breaths, but it wasn’t.

It felt like something between grieving and falling onto your knees in relief. Felt like gasping for air after being under water too long. Like you’d both lost something out there in the Upside Down and were leading each other through the dark, finding and feeling your way together.

Bent low over a box of medical supplies, Steve sorted through band-aids and rubbing alcohol, gauze and thread and needles – a first aid kit for monsters. He’d just finished cleaning and covering up the last cut on your back, hands sure and steady as he taped you up before carefully tucking the antibiotic ointment back into place.

The rush of adrenaline was long gone now, exhaustion creeping in around the edges of the bed as you sat knee to knee and cross-legged next to each other on the duvet. Steve had given you an old, oversized Journey tee to wear, the hem dancing just above your knees, but was shirtless himself. Wearing only a pair of old basketball shorts that hung low on his hips and you couldn’t help letting your eyes trail lazily over him.

Damp hair stuck messy across his forehead, a mark to match yours squeezing around his neck, his jaw half-cast in shadow – so stoic, so calm. His lashes were a long sweep over his cheek bones, gaze low in his lap, his lips twisted in concentration.

Pretty. So pretty. Even like this.

The muscles in his arm flexed as he spun the lid closed on the rubbing alcohol, his bare chest warm in the low light, like his skin held summer underneath it. You traced the bob of his Adam’s apple, the small tick of concentration in his jaw, soft slope of his shoulders, down, down, down, until your eyes caught on his shoulder blade.

Bright red.

An angry looking cut courtesy of a demobat or maybe the tangled vines that crept through the Creel house and it made your stomach knot with worry.

“Steve–” you started and it pulled his gaze up from his lap.

“Hm?” came out tired, but when he met your eyes and saw the furrow of your brow his own pinched together. “Oh–what is it? Your bandage?”

“No. It’s your shoulder blade,” you said softly, hand lifting to ghost over his back before pulling it back quickly.

He suddenly glanced away, nerves buzzing under his skin and shrugged it off, too casual for how bad it looked, “Oh, I’m okay.”

“Steve, it’s bleeding–”

“I’ll get it after I finish your stitches. Done it plenty of times.”

“But how can you reach–”

“Ah, I just turn around in the mirror and patch it up, it’s really no big deal. Don’t worry about me, Princess. I’ve had worse, it’s not impor–”

You grabbed his hand in yours, stopped him from digging out anymore supplies and he froze, the feeling of his fingers flexing against your palm making your heart stutter in your chest.

“Not important?” you finished his sentence for him, shaking your head, “Yes it is.”

Steve cleared his throat and tried to go back to finding a needle and thread, but you stopped him again and he listened this time.

“Let me help you…please?” you asked, meeting his gaze and his expression melted – soft, defeated.

“I just–it’s–it’s my job to take care of people, I gotta put them first because if I don't who's gonna make sure they're–”

“Steve,” you squeezed his hand, “It’s okay.”

And taking the box from him you let go of his hand and slowly moved around behind him, careful of your thigh, making sure to not bump the tape and gauze he'd pressed to it. Your eyes didn’t leave him, watching how his shoulders tensed, his pulse fluttering against his neck, the way he squeezed his eyes shut and tongue jammed into his cheek.

“It’s okay,” you said again and he nodded, eyes still closed.

“Okay,” he murmured.

Pulling a cotton ball from the supply box you uncapped the alcohol and wetted it, still watching. “This is probably gonna hurt,” you warned, eyes catching the way his hands balled into fists as he nodded quietly. Just get it over with. And when you pressed the cotton to his skin he sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, a low rumble groaning in his chest.

“Sorry,” you worried, but he looped his hand around his back and pushed it to your waist.

“I’m alright, keep going,” he said, eyes still squeezed shut.

And so you cleaned it, slow, easy, gentle, as he winced and tensed and groaned, gripped your waist like a life line as you washed the blood from his back, red turning pink until you could see the cut clearly.

It wasn’t as bad underneath it all and when you placed the last piece of tape over the corner of gauze you let your hand linger on his back, your fingers resting on the ridge of his shoulder blade.

“Thanks,” he murmured, finally turning on the bed to face you.

A tiny smile flickered at the corner of your lips, but it faded the longer you looked at him. “Why don’t you think you’re important too?” fell out before you could bite it back and your cheeks warmed when his eyes widened.

“Well, I guess I just…I’m the oldest and those kids need me and as long as they’re safe then…” he drifted off at the end, hand moving to rub at the back of his neck and you took his hand again.

“Who’s making sure you’re safe?”

And it quickly pulled his eyes back up to meet yours. Warm honey and burnt caramel, a muddied mixture of surprise and bewilderment and deep gratitude.

“I…” he started, but couldn’t finish and you reached up to tuck a lock of hair out of his face.

“You’re important too, Steve,” you said softly.

And your words struck him heavy, his throat squeezing around everything he wanted to say to you, blinking rapidly against the stinging in the corners of his eyes. He tried to will it away but knew it was no use and closed them tight, tears slipping between his lashes and down his cheeks.

“Okay,” he said, voice thick as he let you pull him close to settle into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping wide and warm around your waist.

And you sat like that there in the dark of the room, in the strange little bubble you’d created for yourselves out of vulnerability and trust, peeling back your layers and letting each other in. Seeing each other for the first time. Learning each other for who you really were.

A new start. A fresh start.

I’ll make sure you’re safe.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[cringefailvox]

overlord husk aus are very interesting to me in part because they present such a radically different vision of the huskerdust dynamic that is very compelling to me. present-day husk and angel are exhausted. these are people genuinely at rock bottom, who have been so worn down and chipped away at by the long, dragging stalemate of their circumstances that they have nothing left to give but their bare minimum selves. which is okay, and it's enough for them; a lot of what makes their dynamic so interesting is that it's about two people at their lowest rediscovering what it feels like to not be alone down there, to even begin thinking about the possibility of climbing out of the deep dark hole they've made their peace with now that they won't be doing it by themselves.

in contrast, overlord husk aus imagine a version of husk and angel before they were losers together. they imagine versions of them that haven't been beaten down all the way just yet: husk at the height of his greed and power and reckless addictions, angel riding the high of his stardom while adamantly refusing to peel back the surface and acknowledge the rot. both of them still digging the hole and saying to themselves, "i've got a ladder, i'm not going to get stuck. i can always climb back out."

and having these two meet at this stage in their lives, i think they would really, really not make each other better. husk's consideration for the souls on his chain had to have been close to zero for him to use them as gambling chips the way he did, especially the recklessly self-destructive way he did that ended with his own soul in alastor's pocket. and i imagine that for a long time, angel lived in total willful denial about val's escalating abuse and the toll his increasingly demanding job was taking on him, because acknowledging it would be tantamount to making it real, making it something that could actually hurt him and not just be rationalized away, and so of course he'd put off doing that for as long as he could.

if husk had actually won angel's soul, it wouldn't have been any different from all the other people he traded back and forth across his table just for the illicit thrill of the game. angel probably would've had a whole sunk-cost freakout about it (what was the point of all that pain and suffering and lack of autonomy if all the consequences are coming from a stranger now and not val? when it isn't personal? and now he can't even claim a little bit of power back by saying he chose it, because he didn't.) angel knows full well what it looks like when someone is going to kill themselves with their addictions, but what obligation does he have to the guy who would just as quick give him up to somebody else if it gave him an adrenaline rush? nothing, that's what, and he has enough of his own problems anyway.

crucially, they're both INCREDIBLY self-absorbed. not even in a conceited or vain way, but just in that they're so wrapped up in their own mess that they can't see beyond it, they don't have any space for empathy, and furthermore, they have no reason to even try.

it's why the version of their dynamic we get in canon works so well—they're in the same place now, at just the right time to finally start opening up their worlds to how they affect other people (angel watching charlie interact with val at the studio; husk being forced by alastor to engage with the hotel's residents as the bartender). there's space for empathy in their lives now, because they've finally been brought so low that they can't hide anymore, can't look away, can't deny how completely and totally fucked they are. it's a kind of brutal honesty that can only really come from confronting your absolute worst-case scenario. but for them to even begin connecting with each other in any authentic sense, they needed to have the ladder taken away so they could finally bring themselves to stop digging, look up, and realize there's been someone down here with them all along.

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 4: Wound Tending/First Aid

After Dew cuts his finger on stage, Aether takes care of him.

Content warnings for blood and mentions of injuries

Mushy May put together by the wonderful @forlorn-crows <3

Divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

Aether smells it before he sees it. He's unmuzzled, unlike some of his pack, so despite his human glamour dulling his ghoulish senses, he can almost taste the thick, cloying scent of blood. He keeps playing, just barely stumbling over a chord, his eyes darting across the stage at his Papa, scanning, searching.

Papa's fine. Still singing, commanding the attention of the screaming crowd with out a hitch. Aether redirects his gaze, looking for the source of the blood.

His eyes lock on it, smears of color against an otherwise pristine white Stratocaster, and his heart drops into his gut. His mate is bleeding. It takes everything Aether's got to keep his cool and not storm across the stage to the fire ghoul.

Dew, in his defense, has not faltered; his scent hasn't changed, still riding on the excitement and adrenaline of performance. Still, Aether keeps an eye on him, watches as that guitar gets redder and redder, dripping from the fingers of his picking hand.

He'd be more worried about the bleeding not stopping if Dew were human, but they're ghouls. If anything, the bleeding has only riled him up.

The rest of the show, thankfully, goes off without a hitch. After bows, Dew steps off to stage left as Aether goes right, watching out of the corner of his eye as Dew hands his bloody guitar to his human tech, the man wide eyed at the state of his hand and the guitar. But Dew brushes right past him, and Aether quickly goes through the motions with his own tech, chasing after his mate backstage.

Dew's halfway to the dressing room when he intercepts him. "Darling," Aether says, his hand wrapping around his skinny wrist. The sleeve of his compression shirt is soaked through, with blood or sweat Aether can't quite tell.

"'M fine, Aether," Dew snaps, voice exhausted and tinging on a growl.

Aether doesn't flinch. "Listen to me, Dew," he says, not unkindly, straightening to his full height. Dew tenses, eyes locked onto Aether's. "You really think it's a good idea to walk right into a room with Rain and Sunshine while you're still bleeding?"

They're both still masked, but Aether knows Dew's rolling his eyes. His wrist is still locked in the circle of his grip. "I can deal with Rain and Sunny, Aeth. I'm fine, lemme go. I wanna get changed and get on the bus."

Aether's fingers twitch around Dew's wrist. The air, now that Dew's no less than a foot and a half away, the smell of blood is overpowering. "Dewdrop. I have been watching you bleed all night, unable to do anything about it. Ask for it and I will help you, love, but I don't want you to go in there without stopping the bleeding. I love Rain, and I love Sunny, but I love you."

Dew lets out a huff of breath from his nostrils, the steam catching in the low light. "I'm a grown ghoul, Aether," he snarls, but it's weak, and Aether knows him well enough to practically see the way he's clinging to that persona, the stoic shell that gets pulled up over his soft spots. Aether reaches up with his free hand and brushes his fingers over the side of Dew's helmet, as if tucking a long strand of hair behind a pointed ear.

"I know, darling," he hums, eyes tender. "I know. I just don't like seeing you hurt. Let me help you?"

Through the lenses of his own mask, Aether can see the way Dew's unglamoured, copper eyes soften, the fire ghoul leaning ever so slightly into his touch as he nods slowly, almost imperceptibly. Aether can feel the adrenaline starting to falter, even through the hard plastic of the mask. The crash is barreling towards Dew like a train, and Aether pulls them into one of the venue's unused dressing rooms, locking the door behind them.

Aether takes his mask off, and Dew follows suit, collapsing down onto an old threadbare couch as he pulls his balaclava down. Aether finds paper towel in the bathroom, and a first aid kit under the sink. He sits down next to Dew.

The fire ghoul's examining the cut on his finger, still bleeding, but sluggishly. He glances up as Aether sits down. "You gonna patch me up, Doctor Aether?" He asks, but the snark is fading, revealing sheer sincerity.

Aether's lip crooks up in a smile. "I am, darling. Gimme your hand?"

He does so without hesitation, trusting completely, and Aether meets his eye, kissing his knuckles before examining the cut himself. A string sliced into his pinkie on stage, and Aether hisses in sympathy.

"I barely felt it," Dew says, exhaustion seeping into his voice. "Think I got sweat in it. Fuckin' stings now."

"I bet," Aether says. He cleans the blood from his mate's hand with damp paper towel. "It looks nasty."

"Kept playing though," Dew shrugs with his other arm. Aether glances up at him, amethyst to copper. "The fans ate it up."

"If I couldn't smell it, I think I would have known when I heard it," Aether says as he reaches into the first aid kit for gauze and medical tape "Proud of you for sticking it through."

Dew makes a noise between a laugh and a scoff as Aether presses a wad of gauze to the cut. "What else was I supposed to do? Up and leave?"

"You've got me there," he hums. They're so close that Aether can feel the familiar, comforting heat radiating from Dew's body, the fire that burns at the very core of him. Dew shifts his weight, the springs of the couch squeaking in protest.

They fall into a comfortable silence as Aether works, ripping a strip of medical tape to secure the gauze to his finger. Dew watches, narrow chest rising and falling as Aether shuts the first aid kit, examining his work.

"There we go," Aether hums, tipping his head back and taking a deep breath, all of the worry hitting him as his own adrenaline starts to crash. "Should be good to meet up with the pack, 'm sure Swiss is wo-"

He cuts himself off as spindly fingers wrap around his wrist, grip tight. "Think you're missing something, starshine."

Aether cocks his head, brows furrowing tight as he does another once over on his mate. His hands come up to cup his face, thumbing over sharp cheekbones. "Are you hurt somewhere else? What am I missing, darling?"

Dew sighs, but he's smiling, relaxing into Aether's touch. "Starshine, I'm okay." He raises his hand, waggling his fingers in front of Aether's nose. "Come on, gimme a little somethin' somethin'."

"Oh," Aether laughs, taking Dew's hand in his and kissing the back of it. A little spark of quintessence jumps between them, just enough to kickstart the healing process. "Let me kiss it better, darling."

Dew laughs, smiling fondly at his quintessence ghoul. "Alright, Doctor Aether, can we go change, or do you think Rain and Sunny will still jump me?"

Aether stands, taking Dew's hands to help him up. "Let's go get changed. I'm sure the others are worried about where we ran off to."

Dew snorts, tucking himself against Aether's side. "I think they think we found a dark closet and sucked face for half an hour."

Aether cackles as he puts his mask back on.

"Aether?" Dew asks as he does the same.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you, for taking care of me." The fire ghoul's eyes are soft and earnest, shining through the lenses.

"Any time."

[omegalomania]

the thing is that i can still remember the way it felt.

end of november, 2022, suddenly every feed lights up. they're doing something. people are posting images of the chicago tribune, a full page ad that has this bicolored logo, a face both happy and sad, black and white, and it simply says: FOB8.

"is this real?" quite a few people were skeptical after the years-long pause between mania and now. "i'm not convinced."

"it's a full-page ad in a single chicago newspaper out of nowhere, right after joe got finished doing a whole book tour where he insisted they had no new music to speak of," i answered. "of fucking course it's real. it has fall out boy all over it."

i remember so vividly the sense of wonder that arrived on christmas morning of that same year, when i woke up at the exact right moment to learn that fall out boy did something again. an eerie, playful, earnest, weird claymation video with a haunting soundtrack, featuring a little black and brown dog. it was mystifying and bizarre and striking - a sprinkling of stardust on the dog's muzzle that prompted it to sneeze - and the adrenaline rush i got from the snippet of heart-pounding drums and guitar was the best gift i'd received all year.

so much (for) stardust. i've said it before and i'll say it again - it's a damn near perfect title. it's a play on words, it has multiple meanings nested into one another. given enough time, we all fall apart like so much dust, like so much stardust because that's where we came from. we are made of and from stardust. for stardust. so much for stardust. so much for the cosmic clay that shaped us. so much for this life, so much for the very foundational fucking firmament from which we we all sprang, so much for this whole strange weird existence. it's exhaustion and anger and spite and frustration and, at the same time - it's wonder. it's love. it's a doberman frozen in an instant of elated play, snapping at bubbles. it's a dog breed conventionally associated with danger captured in a moment of buoyant delight. it's an oil painting, surrounded by words shaped from sparkling clay.

it's love.

it's a record full to bursting with love. it's in the very first song they sent to us, sending us their love from the other side of the apocalypse. it's a record that says yes, the world is a mess and it feels insurmountable. maybe existence is meaningless. maybe it's all fucking pointless and we're all gonna die anyway. but like hell that means i'm not going to love life with all that i am. like hell i am going to let that stifle me. if nothing matters, then love is what matters.

and they committed to it, too. if there's one thing we can take away from so much for (tour)dust, it's that fall out boy loves us the way we love them. they'd have to, right? they could have called it quits years ago. hell, they could've packed it up after the hiatus and just never come back. they'd have to really love doing this to want to keep at it, years later, and look at that. they have.

fall out boy, at the end of the day, is propelled by love. they have to really love what they do to keep doing it. they have to love each other, love the music, love the fans, to keep doing what they do. this is something they've repeatedly asserted over the course of this tour and record cycle: the sheer, shared joy, the positive feedback loop of creative energy that comes from sharing something you made with the world and seeing the world respond in turn.

the world is a wreck and it feels, at times, like nothing you do matters or changes anything. so much (for) stardust is the antithesis to that kind of existential apathy. look, it says. look at what your love has changed. because as desolate and nightmarish and inescapable as the pitfalls of this strange, oftentimes terrifying existence can be - we have laughter, we have good friends, we have good music, and we have the ability to not let our own ennui defeat us. there are things in this world worth living for. there are things in this world worth loving. you have to love one another. you have to laugh and do whatever silly, inane thing makes you feel alive. you have to hug your friends and sing with them, cry with them, and savor every drop of this life that we get. prioritize love. be seriously unserious.

a week before this record came out, i spent some 6-7 hours in a car driving to a record store to hear it with a bunch of people, many of them strangers. i heard so much (for) stardust in its entirety in a record store with one of my favorite people, surrounded by awed chatter as we all drank it in. we didn't catch all the words, but the ones we heard sank into us and took root. i almost couldn't bear to wait for to hear the record properly.

a year later, it's sunk into the recesses of my soul. i'm not sure it'll ever come unstuck there. i don't think i want it to.

thanks for the stardust, fall out boy.

we love you back.

[batneko]

Something Goes Wrong and Bowser Jr.'s clown car ends up flying off halfway across the globe with Luigi in tow. They crash-land in a hostile environment which means they can't just wait by the wreckage for rescue, and to distract Junior from how much danger they're in Luigi pulls the two-way radio out of the car and asks if Junior can fix it.

Meanwhile back home everybody thinks that Junior kidnapped Luigi for some reason, which leads to Bowser and Mario fighting, which means nobody notices for most of a day that Junior really should have been back by now...

Surprisingly, Junior does fix the radio, and manages to contact his dad just as Bowser is starting to worry. Junior assures him they're fine, they just don't know where they are, and they're traveling in the direction Luigi thinks people most likely are. Bowser yells at Luigi that he'd better keep Junior safe, Luigi says he will, and that's that.

Until a few hours later when Junior has dropped off to sleep and Luigi uses the radio again to let Bowser know that they are not okay, there's hazards and predators everywhere, Luigi has no idea where people might be, he's just been lying and distracting Junior all day to keep him calm.

Bowser is like, "Good. Continue that." and asks Luigi for more details about where they are so he can mount a rescue team.

But out of spite Bowser doesn't tell Mario that he's heard from his brother.

The next day is more travel and more danger and once again Luigi waits until they've found shelter and Junior is asleep before radioing Bowser to update their actual progress and not just whatever Junior reported at random. This time Bowser listens a little better, and gives advice on the monsters he recognizes. Eventually Luigi actually feels a little bit reassured.

It keeps going like that for days. Luigi is running on adrenaline and fumes, they're foraging for supplies when they're not running for their lives, and since Junior is oblivious to most of the danger he keeps insulting Luigi for being a coward and a wimp. Bowser is sending out search parties to everywhere that matches their descriptions, but they're spending so much time fighting and fleeing that even if a ship flew right overhead they might not notice it.

But every night Bowser and Luigi talk, and though Bowser is still prickly about it he can't help but appreciate everything Luigi is doing for his son. Likewise, Luigi looks forward to those talks as the only time of day he can let out what he's really feeling.

Finally they stumble upon a town. Luigi goes to the first person he sees, asks where they are, reports that back to Bowser, and passes out.

Next time he opens his eyes he's laying in a doctor's office with Bowser, of all people, yelling about how hard can it possibly be to treat a guy for heat stroke?! while Junior, sound asleep, clings to Luigi's hand.

The next next time he opens his eyes he's in Bowser's castle and Bowser is fighting with Mario in the hallway about whether or not Luigi should be moved again. Luigi drags himself out of bed to tell both of them to please keep it down and he's fine and what day is it?

Over the time Luigi is recovering (it's mostly exhaustion and stress but he's not complaining about the meals in bed) he talks with Bowser more and more. About what happened, but also in general, casual conversations. Chit-chat. And Junior likes to come visit him too, even if he's just drawing or playing with toys in the corner. He still doesn't seem to understand how close they both came to dying out there, but it's clear he feels comfortable with Luigi nearby.

And so does Bowser, Bowser realizes, when it's time for Luigi to go. Those evening conversations weren't exactly enjoyable, under the circumstances, but he got used to Luigi's voice. Even with Junior back, without Luigi the castle is going to feel... empty.

Just as Bowser is trying to think of how to ask if he can see Luigi again, Luigi asks for Bowser's number.

"I'm not sure I can fall asleep anymore without hearing your voice."

Choked up, all Bowser can say is, "Sure."

[wrathofrats]

Phantom/Swiss cuddles after a long show where they're both exhausted and just wanna snuggle and rest with each other

I love them your honor. Also this is probs a lot more playful than asked but it’s sickenly cute so

The ride back to the hotel was almost silent.

The buzz of slowing adrenaline and shuffling of aching joints after Satan knows how many shows in a row filled the bus. It was a short drive to the hotel, one that felt like it could’ve lasted an hour with the way most of the ghouls were just dying to sleep on a real bed. Dew was practically trying to curl up under rains skin with the way he shoved himself as far into his side as possible, trying to get just a tiny bit of rest. Mountain had cirrus’ head in his lap as she closed her eyes to ward off the headache she had complained about before the show even started.

Phantom was in a similar state, his breathing slowing as he leaned against Swiss.

“Still with me bug? We only got like 10 more minutes” Swiss leaned down to whisper into his hair. The breath on phantoms scalp tickled, earning a sleepy smile from the smaller ghoul.

“Could just sleep here, don’t need the hotel” phantom mumbled into his sweatshirt.

“Then where will I sleep?” Swiss laughed

“Don’t need to sleep, just need to be comfortable for me to lay on” phantom giggled. Swiss pushed him off slightly so phantom was sitting up right. He was adorable like this, messy hair and a jacket no doubt stolen from rain or dew, a small blush on his cheeks from having his head buried in Swiss.

Swiss gave him a small kiss on the forehead before slowly collapsing onto of phantom earning a surprised quiet yelp once Swiss had his full weight on him and squishing him into the couch of their tour bus.

“Swiss!” Phantom laughed, squirming underneath him, slightly hitting his sides “get up!”

“Im your blanket now. You said I had to be comfortable for you, so I’m only helping”

Phantom continued to wiggle as Swiss finally rolled off of him and onto the floor, pulling the quint with him. Phantom fell on top of him with an oof!, resting his head on his chest.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, you’ve gotta carry you stuff in”

“Can’t carry, am bed bug now”

“So you expect me to do it?” Swiss rolled his eyes jokingly.

“Yes, am bed bug now” phantom said, snuggling into Swiss’ chest.

[marveling-cg]

Okay, I just turned on MHA like six weeks ago, and just finished the manga yesterday. And while I have.....thoughts -.- about that ending, I also can't help think about:

Deku's Accidental Charm Offensive & Unintentional Rehabilitation of Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight's Image

Like:

On one of Deku's first patrols with Dynamight, they wrap up a villain with no injuries, no collateral, no casualties, and Dynamight lets rip his signature shout: "FLAWLESS VICTORY!"

The PR folks at his agency (and the internet) have told him that it's off-putting and unnerving

But Deku breaks out laughing behind him, Bakugo turns for the fist bump, aggressive, still pumped up from the adrenaline

Deku returns it automatically, smile bright, cheeks flushed, eyes nearly shut

The internet thinks it's adorable

And when:

They've responded to a request to back up heroes in an adjacent zone

Bakugo's been picking up more requests for backup now that Deku's in the field -- he knows the nerd gets a kick out of working in teams, and sometimes they run into their classmates, it makes Deku smile, whatever

There's a group of villains working in a team, and the biggest of them has a quirk it takes the the BakuBros way too long to figure out, but Deku, Chargebolt, and Red Riot manage to clear the extras from the field long enough for Bakugo to finally put the big bad down

It was a messy and exhausting fight, Bakugo's barely staying on his feet in the aftermath, but then he hears a shout from a nearby roof -- Deku:

"Great Explosion Murder God --"

"DYNAMIGHT" Kaminari and Kirishima join Deku's dumbass shout, and Bakugo is tossed up on the idiot's shoulders like an American frat boy.

They're so embarrassing.

The nearby newscaster filming from the police line laughs with the rest of the nearby civilians, says something about the atmosphere of joy as the villains have finally been subdued

But especially that time:

Some overexcitable brat almost got themselves killed on Deku and Bakugo's watch

There'd been some two-bit criminal, hardly enough of a threat to be called a villain, but Endeavor'd taught them to respond quickly, and they'd never been able to kick the muscle memory

The kid, no more than 8 or 9 had seen them passing by from her window and climbed out onto her fire escape, climbing up on the rails to try and record the interaction

Thank fuck the sensors on Deku's suit had picked up the anomaly of her sudden descent

Though they'd both rushed into action, Bakugo made the save snatching the kid from the air before she'd injured herself

When he got them both on solid ground, he'd been ready to light into her -- "Listen here, you --"

But Deku had been there, hand firm on Bakugo's elbow, "Kacchan, no!" Before hip-checking Bakugo out of the way and crouching down to get at eye level with the girl

"Hey, what my buddy, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight" (Deku always says it like Bakugo had dreamed it, like it's the name of someone trustworthy) "is trying to say is that your safety is way more important than a picture or video of us. Right?"

Here Deku had turned to look up at Bakugo. His midnight green eyes stern and expectant. Reminding Bakugo:

He'd made a promise to himself. If Deku gave becoming a hero a chance -- not just doing test work with the suit, not just moonlighting between class and grading papers, but really gave partnering with Bakugo his best effort -- Bakugo wouldn't let himself do anything to get in the way of Deku becoming the #1 hero. Anything.

"Yeah kid, it's not a flawless victory if you get hurt."

Deku beamed at him as if Bakugo just plucked the moon from the sky and personally gifted to him. Bakugo's cheeks had burned. But it didn't matter (he'd thought it wouldn't matter -- smartphones are the worst) Deku had already turned back to the girl.

"And if you want to come chat with us, we'll be at the Fall Festival at _____ Park around the corner in just a couple weeks! We'll be at the ______ Agency booth!"

Business kids had gotten the bright idea that heroes ought to be more accessible, feel more a part of the communities they helped protect.

A week later, Ashido sent a tweet to the Forever 1A group chat. A video of he and Deku with the kid. The caption: "Turns out Great Explosion Murder God just needed an anger interpreter."

The first comment under the tweet: "Anger interpreter? Do you mean husband?? Look at the blush!"

Bakugo is going to kill them!

But like, after 3 months of he and Deku partnering, they're neck and neck with Todoroki - the Big 3 back in competition.

[winchestermylove]

we've all heard of sam calling dean mommy, but what about... sam calling dean dad!

not even daddy. just like dad. like dean is sam's dad so ofc he's going to call him as such! and like it's not inherently sexual but that doesn't mean they strictly keep it out of the bedroom...

maybe it starts as sam being sarcastic after dean tells him to do something, like, "thanks, dad" with an eyeroll. but dean freezes and stares wide-eyed at sam and neither of them say anything about it or bring it up again.

and then a few weeks later sam gets hurt on a hunt and dean's patching him up and says something like, "you can't do shit like that, sammy, it was stupid" because sam made a mistake and endangered his life

and with an eyeroll, sam says, "whatever, dad."

and dean stops for a second but recovers quickly and continues his stitching in silence. sam's had a few gulps of whiskey by now to dull the throb of the slice in his abdomen, so he gets sleepy soon after dean finishes up and the adrenaline begins to wear off.

so after they're both curled up under the covers in their respective beds, and sam is mostly asleep, he mumbles a "thanks dad"

sam doesn't even realize what he's saying and dean chalks it up to a combination of the exhaustion and alcohol and doesn't reply.

then sam starts calling dean dad in casual conversation, sometimes as a joke but other times a little more serious. and dean doesn't hate it.

and then they get used to it. it becomes normal. neither of them ever talk about it, or what it means to them, but somehow it works. because in all the ways it matters, dean is sam's dad.

sam even starts referring to dean as his dad to other people.. he'll be at a bar or something and the bartender will ask what he wants and he'll just say like "oh i need a minute i'm just waiting for my dad to get back from the bathroom!"

and then some guy who can't be more than 5 years older than sam comes sauntering out of the bathroom to stand next to sam and throws an arm around his shoulder and says, "what'd you order, sammy?"

the bartender is so weirded out that they take their break right then and there <33 and sam and dean don't even bat an eye

anyway this got out of hand

[sadisticyouko]

hello, im not sure if requests are open or closed, if they're closed you can ignore this ^^

reader is female.

can i request a one shot where the reader is a part of team urameshi and reader and hiei were secretly dating until (either member of your choice maybe kurama or something) walks in on the two of them kissing and eventually they come out that they've been dating. :P

☆ author's note : a little bit suggestive but not too much detail, I wrote most of this while i was super drunk last night and finally got around to finishing it up today, not sure if i love the ending tbh, but i hope this is to your liking ! ♡

❝ JUST BETWEEN US ❞

You weren’t sure what to call it. At first it started with bouts of protectiveness, almost constantly initiated by Hiei. The Dark Tournament was a vicious, cruel game that in a way, exposed a softer side of Team Urameshi as a whole. How you all cared for one another. How you would all willingly fight a stadium full of monsters for one another. It a was a fast track way to bond for a pair of teammates that knew little to nothing of each other previous to boarding that boat and fighting to the death one round after another.

You couldn’t tell that anything had changed about him after the first match. You were bloodied, slightly concussed, and amped up by the adrenaline of having won your first fight. Bruises no doubt littered your entire body. Yusuke congratulated you with a rough pat on the back, his hand accidentally slapping against a particularly deep wound. You gave Kuwabara a half hug on your way back, his embrace gentler, but still sturdy with relief.

When your eyes broke contact with the healthy green grass you stamped beneath your feet, you met Hiei’s crimson eyes.

Almost like an accident, at first. How long had he been staring? His eyes quickly darted to the left, almost embarrassed to have been caught watching you. But why would that be unusual? You figured he was just still learning it was normal to care about his friends.

You instinctively stood beside him for the remainder of the fights. Not much conversation, both of your attention glued to the arena before you. Your shoulders feeling like magnets. More effort to distance yourself from his side than it took to stay there. Your eyes occasionally meeting when you dare to look from the fight to his face. Like he had been staring. A light pink dusting his cheeks when he’s caught in the act before he immediately looks away. Another complaint if you stare for too long.

If Kuwabara breathed too hard you never heard the end of it from Hiei. If a contestant took a misstep in the arena he had a corrective remark to make of it.

When your hand accidentally brushed his…he was silent. When your eyes met his in the middle of a group conversation…he was silent.

It wasn’t until one of your matches went sideways that he decided not to waste anymore time.

Feeling out powered. Out classed. Running out of ideas. Out of time… You thought you might really die in front of your friends and a stadium full of demons chanting, praying for more of your blood to spill on the pavement. Your vision gets blurry after losing enough blood. It’s like seeing through static. Lungs burning with exertion. Muscles freezing, locking in place. This is it, you think. This is death.

And Hiei’s voice breaks through the thick fog of your surrender.

“Fight, (y/n), fight!”

It’s by some miracle your opponent passes out seconds before you. You released a burst of energy, you don’t even know how, to knock them out of the ring and begin the count down. The sound of the announcer’s eager voice ringing in your eyes. One…two… staggering…and darkness.

The air conditioner makes a comforting noise in the darkness of the hotel room. It’s a gentle hum. Sometimes a staccato to disrupt the pattern. Before your eyes even open, a heavy pounding begins in your head. Aching all over. Body heavy with exhaustion. And yet…your body fights. Shooting up in bed. Tense and primed for violence. Your hands balled into fists as your eyes adjust to the dark hotel room…

“Hn, finally. You’ve been sleeping for hours.”

It’s Hiei. His voice stirring an unfamiliar warmth in your belly that relaxes your muscles, your fight or flight instincts taking a back seat to an entirely new set of instincts. Of warmth…of uncertainty. You fidget in the white linen bed they assigned to you and let out a deep sigh you didn’t know you were holding in. “Did we win?”

“Obviously.”

You haven’t dared to look at him yet, you hand encasing your face as your body adjusts to its surroundings. The bed dips with his weight as he comes to sit beside you, bringing a cool cup of water up to your lips and tipping it. Holding the glass as you sip and then gulp all the water within the glass. A bead of water escapes from your lips, drips down the side as Hiei retracts the glass.

Unbeknownst to you, he watches that little bead of water carefully. He watches your face carefully the same way he watched over you while you slept. Examining your breathing, dressing your wounds.. The moonlight bounces off the side of your cheek and casts a glow around your features. Features he worried he’d never see again. The face he saw bloodied and battered in the arena. The face he had secretly hoped he’d get to enjoy for years to come…

When you finally turn to look into his crimson eyes…he is electric… A live wire full of emotion and pain. Before either of you even realize, his hand is under your chin and pulling your face close into an innocent kiss. A press of his lips against yours, and moving fervently, desperately against yours until he opens his mouth and lets your taste in. Until he’s on top of you in bed, moving the sheets away from your body to feel you close. Until you’re gasping at the proximity. Until you’re wondering if you really did win that fight or maybe if you’ve descending into a blissful hell and hiei’s there to greet you with the most blissful sins imaginable.

No one notices for the rest of the tournament.

And, why would they? A life for death scenario each and every day. Never knowing whether or not you’d all finally make it home or if it’d be your last night on earth. Murdered in front of a live audience desperately cheering and hoping to see as much of a mess of your innards as possible.

You and Hiei made the most of it.

After everyone had fallen asleep. After everyone had made their way into their respective rooms. Whether it had been an exhaustive training day or an actual fight in the arena. You kept your door unlocked. Sometimes wandering through the halls of the hotel into his room, sometimes him seeking you out. Every touch of his calloused hands against your face. Every stolen glance or secret kiss. Every moment you had of darkness and peace after the tournament was indulged in between the two of you.

There were a few times you worried the secret would be given away. He didn’t like for anyone to stand too close to you. He didn’t like for you to volunteer for any fights, not if the four of them could handle it. It wouldn’t always be words or outward aggression he’d show to keep others away from you. Sometimes it was just an ominous energy emanating from him if someone else took the seat beside you. It took everything within his power not to drape an arm around you and tell his teammates flat out to back off. Don’t touch her. Don’t look at her. She’s mine…

Naturally, a part of you worried that it would all come to an end once the tournament was over. No matter how sad or distant it made you feel, you always welcomed the fire demon into your arms and into your heart whenever he made his presence known. Life was too short to waste time worrying about a future that might never come. Not when you already had everything you wanted in your arms.

Despite having made it all the way back home, you were pleasantly surprised when his affections didn’t stop then.

He still needed to see you. Still needed you in his arms. Still needed your lips and hips pressed against his. There was no one else but him. There was no one else but you. It was a bit hard to define the limits, but Hiei seemed to understand what you were. You were his. And he was yours. And that was enough for a demon from another world to understand.

Moments alone were easier to come by after the tournament. Hiei would seek you out whenever he felt like it, and the others were occupied with going back into the daily routines they held before. So when the team was called back together for another mission, you two were a bit out of practice in the sneaking around department.

The gang had been around each other almost every second during the last few days.

No alone time. No stolen kisses or quick pecks, not while the others were present and within sight. And every moment that Hiei had to go without your touch was another moment of growing agitation.

Kuwabara finally dozes off laying on the living room floor. The lights are dim in his family room, everyone had been strategizing hard for the next mission. Yusuke stretches his legs in front of him from where he leans against the couch, getting lost staring at the screen of his phone. Kurama stands stiffly before excusing himself for a light walk around the neighborhood.

You lock eyes with Hiei.

He gets up and disappears further into the house. You wait a few minutes. Eyes darting between the two boys in the room. Both tired and both not paying any attention. You finally stand and follow Hiei into an empty bedroom.

The room is dark, and the door closes behind you before your eyes even adjust to the darkness and register his presence.

It's his hand at your waist you recognize before finally meeting his crimson gaze. Your hand naturally drifts up to his cheek, cupping his face the way you've done dozens of times before.

He doesn't say anything. Doesn't need to. Not when his body already fills the silence. I need you. I miss you. I need you closer. I need your touch...

When his lips finally press against yours, his kiss is heated and desperate and heavy with wanting. Wasting no time to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring your familiar taste and claiming you the way he had been dying to for so many days in a row.

Click.

The doorknob clicks open and the door bumps into the wall as it swings open. "Oh my god."

Hiei had instinctively gripped you tighter at the sound, pulling you close with one arm as his other hand gripped the handle of his sword.

A move which he instantly regretted, given the sight.

"Oh my god!" Yusuke points with a devilish grin, laughing at the unexpected discovery, "Are you two dating?! Hiei, you dog!"

Hiei grimaces at the detective's discovery. His grip on you only slightly loosening as he turns to threaten Yusuke. "Shut up you idiot."

"Oh my god, how did we not notice?! How long has this been going on for?!"

The discovery is entertaining enough for Yusuke to go on and on, only for Kuwabara to wake up and barge in and the entire secret is exposed. On the one hand, it's a bit of relief that you two won't have to sneak around the gang anymore. On the other, it's a relentless barrage of jokes and euphemisms while the two dummies come to terms with the discovery. At least Hiei won't be as agitated during the team meetings anymore, if he somehow manages not to kill one of them before the night's over.

©️sadisticyouko | please do not plagiarize, repost, or redistribute in any way without permission.

[17020]

ᥫ᭡ CAMPUS CRUSH GALORE! THE TEACHING FARM.

# CRUSH 002 — KEISUKE BAJI, 26. VET STUDENT.

Keisuke Baji gets to work in a teaching farm along with his classmate in order to pass his clinical rotations. 1.3k fluff/crack, ooc! baji, soft! baji, this is absolute poopy im sorry. gn! yn. ending is a bit rushed sorry.

Clinical rotations were a pain in KEISUKE BAJI's ass.

Yes, his life-long dream was to become a veterinarian, and even though it had seemed out of reach at first, he was now one step closer to fulfilling it. The road to veterinary included clinical rotations, which is what Keisuke dreaded the most.

Although rotations prepared him for emergency situations, nine times out of ten Keisuke had found himself utterly exhausted and sleep deprived, and thanks to the team-based approach rotations had, the hot-headed male found himself drowsily provoked by some of his classmates' stupidity.

Keisuke knew clinical care would come in handy, as his friends Chifuyu and Kazutora had already graduated veterinary school, with Chifuyu offering both him and Kazutora a job at his new pet shop, Peke-J Land.

Nonetheless, the raven-haired male was prone to picking fights as hunger, sleep, and a shit ton of information to memorize plagued his mind all at once. The deprivation of sleep and his constant nagging behavior had set him back, marking his rotations as failed.

Keisuke Baji was not surprised when he got called into the counselor's office. Again.

It was no secret to the university's academic faculty that Keisuke could be a... handful. When he sat down in front of the counselor, he was served a tremendous stack of white papers, with check boxes marked and signatures at the bottom.

Reports. Each and every one was about him.

"We understand how stressful clinical rotations can be, as well as the toll they can take on one's health, Baji, but your classmates—even the teaching faculty, they find themselves..."

"Find themselves what?"

"...they're walking on eggshells, Baji. Look, your behavior has made you fail clinical rotations, and our policy states that if a student was to fail, they would have to undergo remediation. So, for the meantime, you'll be assigned to a new, more calm rotation as remedial."

Which is why Keisuke Baji found himself standing in a barn, waiting to be assigned a partner.

A part of him understood that remedial was, to some degree, necessary. Yes, he had tried his best to be studious, yet his behavior ended up costing him his rotations approval. Keisuke was grateful that university had granted him more independence, as the news of his remediation classes would never reach his mother unless he himself were to speak to her about it. Though, the people he did have to tell, were his friends, as he had to explain why he would not be joining the pet shop during vacations.

When the news reached Peke-J Land, Keisuke's phone flooded with messages, ranging from jokes, to good luck wishes, even to bets, as Chifuyu and Kazutora were sure that this would be the first time in which their friend would finally be put in his place.

A few minutes after he arrived, Keisuke felt a tap on his shoulder, and as he turned around, he was met with the most gorgeous pair of eyes he had ever seen. Standing in front of him was an alluring figure, which had put every other person he had caught a glimpse of from his friends' magazines to absolute shame.

"Excuse me, are you Keisuke Baji?"

"Who's asking?"

"I'm Yn Ln, and we got partnered up for this week's rotation."

"Nice to meet ya."

Keisuke had found himself quieter than usual, speaking only what he deemed as mandatory. For someone who could be quite rowdy and filled with adrenaline, he was more zen than ever. Because he was determined to not fail rotations again, and set his dream of being a vet even further. Besides, he had a good night's sleep, as well as some good old peyoung yakisoba as breakfast. The fact that the person in front of him had caught his eye and their presence basically coerced him into being on his best behavior had nothing to do with that. Yup. Nothing. Nothing at all.

Into the barn stepped one of the farmers, along with a small calf. It looked as if it was only a few weeks old, with its fluffy, white fur being covered with caramel spots. It let out a soft moo as it followed suit behind the farmer.

"Her name is Daisy, and she's ready for feeding" the farmer explained, leaning down and petting the calf, "the feeding bottle is at the table in the back. You take good care of'er, will you?"

You nodded and offered the farmer a smile, and as he stepped out of the farm, the calf raced in an attempt to gallop outside of her barn. She was successful, until a small dip in the grass had caused her to trip and fall.

"Shit!"

"Baji! Run!"

You and him sped towards the calf, which was now crying in pain. Keisuke had reached her first, with him scooping the calf into his arms and carrying her back to the barn. Your cheeks flushed, as the image of your (very cute) classmate with Daisy was to be carved into your memory forever.

"It's so nice of you to carry Daisy, Baji! You want me to carry her with you? Calves can be a bit on the heavy side, you know..."

"I got it" he grinned, "I could carry two Daisy's if I wanted to."

No, he could not. That was a complete lie. Even though his hobby was muscle training, Keisuke was on the verge of accepting your offer, but the laugh that escaped your lips as you trotted towards the barn made it totally worth it. You approached the table, picking up the feeding bottle filled with milk and waiting for Keisuke.

He stepped into the barn, carefully laying Daisy on the ground. Keisuke kneeled next to her, snaking his arms around the calf's neck, seemingly embracing her.

"I'll hold her so she won't run away while you feed her."

You smiled, thanking him as you kneeled with the bottle in hand, driving it towards the calf's snout. Daisy happily suckled on the bottle, with you and Keisuke staring in awe. Unbeknownst to you, Keisuke's focus had shifted, with his eyes now admiring you.

"So, how come you're here at the farm?" he questioned.

"I was told to come help some students that had remedial!"

"Oh."

"How come you're here, Baji?"

"...remedial. But this time I'll pass, I swear!" he replied, ears red from embarrassment as he tried to defend himself. You giggled as he subconsciously hugged Daisy even tighter. "If you're with me, then you're sure to pass" you winked.

"Is that a promise?" he smirked.

"It's a threat" you smiled, "I've helped many of my classmates before, and nobody has failed. If you fail I will personally raise Daisy so she can push you to the ground."

The man in front of you let out a heartfelt laugh as he pulled away from Daisy and stood up, offering you a hand. You grabbed his hand and stood up, seeing as the calf had finished her milk. All of a sudden, a sound was heard.

Plop!

Keisuke had felt a sudden weight added to the top of his shoe, and a pungent smell had reached both his and your nose.

"She..."

"Baji, this is totally normal in veterinary, okay?"

"She... she..."

"She's just a few weeks old!"

"She shit on my shoe."

"Yes, Baji. It seems like poor Daisy couldn't wait until she reached the freestalls—"

"Daisy took a fucking shit on my shoe."

You stifled a laugh as Keisuke let out an exhausted sigh, burying his face in his hands as his whole face was beet red.

"Look, if she pooped then that means she's ready for nap time. There's a convenience store nearby, I can buy us some ice pops while she naps if you want!"

"And be reminded of the damn log she just left on my shoe???"

"Oh."

"I'd be down for yakisoba, though."

"Great! Shall we, then?"

He nodded, "let's go, pretty."