#and I wanted to show that through patches and stitches

[httpsdana]

heyyyyy, i love your work, please can you do where you’re pau cubarsi’s girlfriend and your a med student and take care of him after your injury xxxxx

Healing Touches~Pau Cubarsi

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

I found two requests that are basically the same so I'll just combine them. enjoy <3

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

Pau laid on y/n's couch, his head resting on the armrest with a slight grimace, trying to act casual despite the fresh stitches along his jawline. The injury had happened during his last match, an unfortunate clash that had left him with ten stitches and y/n with a heart full of worry. He’d been patched up by the team doctors, but that didn’t stop her from fretting over him.

y/n sat beside him, brushing a careful hand along his uninjured cheek, studying the stitches with a concerned frown. “Does it hurt a lot, Pau?” she asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

He gave her a lopsided smile, clearly trying to look unfazed. “cariño, it’s just a few stitches. Nothing I can’t handle,” he replied, attempting to shrug off her worry.

She shot him a gentle but stern look. “Pau, it’s ten stitches across your jaw. Don’t act like this is just a scratch,” she murmured, running her fingers lightly through his hair. “You need to rest, and I’ll make sure you do.”

Pau let out a small sigh, reaching up to take her hand in his. “I know you’re studying to be a doctor and all, but I’m pretty sure the team patched me up well enough,” he teased, giving her hand a light squeeze.

She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Well, maybe they did, but I still want to take care of you. You got hurt, Pau, and that’s not something I’m just going to brush off.”

He shifted slightly, pulling her closer so she was leaning over him, a playful look glimmering in his eyes. “Fine, but only because you’re so cute when you’re in ‘doctor mode,’” he teased, his voice soft.

She rolled her eyes, unable to hold back a small smile. “Pau, I’m serious. Now, have you had any water? You need to stay hydrated for healing,” she scolded gently, reaching for the glass she'd brought him earlier.

He chuckled softly, the sound a little muffled by the stitches, and took the glass from her hand, making a show of drinking. “Happy?” he asked, giving her a little wink as he set the glass down.

“Not yet,” she replied, brushing her thumb lightly over the edge of his jaw, careful to avoid the stitches. “But we’ll get there.”

His hand reached up to cup hers, holding it against his cheek as he gazed up at her. “Thank you for taking care of me, amor. I know you’re busy with your studies and all…”

She shushed him softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss near the corner of his mouth. “You’re more important. Now, let me fuss over you, and stop trying to act like you don’t need it,” she whispered, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes despite his injury. “Guess I have no choice but to let my very cute, very smart med student girlfriend look after me,” he said, pulling her down into a warm hug, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

She relaxed into his embrace, careful to avoid his jaw but grateful to feel his warmth, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek. It always amazed her how Pau could be so calm and lighthearted, even with stitches on his face. But she knew he was doing it mostly for her, to keep her from worrying too much.

Pau’s fingers traced gentle circles on her back, and he tilted his head slightly, looking at her with that same adoring expression. “You know, amor,” he started, a teasing tone slipping in, “if I knew getting hurt would get me this much attention from you, I’d have gotten injured ages ago.”

She pulled back slightly, playfully swatting his arm. “Pau Cubarsi, don’t you dare joke about that! You better not even think about getting hurt again. I was so worried when I saw you all bloody and in pain ” she scolded, but her voice softened as she met his gaze, the affection in his eyes making her heart flutter.

He chuckled, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a feather-light kiss to your fingers. “I promise, I’m kidding,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her hand. “But I have to admit… I love this side of you, so caring and worried.”

“You make it sound like I’m never caring,” she replied, pouting slightly.

“No, no,” he laughed, pulling her back into his arms. “You’re always caring. But right now, it’s like you’re my personal nurse. I kind of like it.”

She sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. “Just let me take care of you, okay?” she whispered, feeling her voice soften. “I want you to be all healed and safe. now do you need me to get you something?”

Pau pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his voice tender. “I’m already feeling better just being with you, cariño, I don't need a thing” he murmured. “It’s like you’re my medicine.”

She felt a warmth rise to her cheeks, and she couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’re so cheesy, you know that?”

“For you? Always,” he grinned, his hand moving to stroke her cheek. “Now, doctor, what’s my next treatment? I think it might involve lots of cuddles.”

y/n rolled her eyes, laughing as she pulled him close again. “Fine, but only because you need it.” she shifted carefully, lying beside him on the couch so he could rest his head on her shoulder. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck.

“See? This is the best medicine,” he murmured, his lips pressing light kisses along her collarbone.

y/n giggled, feeling his warm breath against her skin. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around,” she reminded him, trying to keep a serious tone but failing as she felt herself melt into his embrace.

“Then just let me hold you,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “You’ve done enough, cariño. I’m okay now, really.”

She let out a sigh, relaxing in his arms, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her fingertips. “I love you, Pau,” she whispered, voice barely audible.

He tilted his head, his eyes meeting hers with a soft, heartfelt gaze. “I love you too, amor. And thank you… for always being here. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

His words made her heart swell, and she reached up to cup his face, bringing him close enough for a gentle, lingering kiss. His lips were soft against hers, the familiar warmth filling her with a comforting peace.

When she finally pulled back, Pau’s eyes were still closed, a content smile playing on his lips. “Now, that’s what I call the perfect remedy,” he murmured, his voice a sleepy whisper.

y/n chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Then get some rest, okay? Doctor’s orders.”

He opened one eye, giving her a playful smirk. “Only if you stay here with me, nurse.”

“Fine,” she whispered, settling into his arms and pressing one last kiss to his forehead.

She stayed close, feeling his breathing slow as he drifted into sleep, holding her tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.

[enthusiastic-nimrod]

Lil Sis and Lil Bro! I'm slowly petering towards the beginning of MSG (less because I feel confident in my writing abilities and more because I want it to actually start soon), so I finally drew out some... pretty pivotal starting off characters.

Lil Sis has a Green Soul Color, and Lil Bro's is a Yellow Soul Color. Lil Sis is also just a bit younger than Lil Bro, but that bit makes all the difference!

[bi-writes]

ghost is off limits. not just emotionally or romantically, but physically. you have seen the aftermath of when someone so much as bumps into him or brushes past his arm in a tight hallway. they learn very quickly that lieutenant riley isn't to be touched, not even a little, not at all. (18+)

ohhhh but not for the medic. your touch is clinical. necessary. ordered. ghost glares, but he does not tell you to go away when you make your way into captain price's office. it's late; they just touched down not even ten minutes ago, exhausted and burdened by an op that took a few weeks of their absence.

he smells like sweat, like grime, and you can taste the sand in the air when you take a seat next to him. even seated, he is taller than you. he takes up a ridiculous amount of space, dwarfing the office chair he sits in. you set your kit down on your captain's desk, turning to face your lieutenant.

"uhm...could you show it to me?"

he huffs in annoyance before he pulls his tactical vest over his head, tossing it onto the floor. you swallow, blinking, focusing, as he unzips the jacket he wears and lets it fall at his feet. your lips part a little as he reveals the strength of his arms, tight muscles straining against the shirt he wears and showing off the sleeve of ugly military tattoos that are sunburnt along one arm.

gorgeous, giant man, but then your eyes take interest on the nasty gash along one arm, a jagged wound that stretches nearly from shoulder to elbow. it looks angry and irritated, much like the look in his eyes.

when you put your hands on him for the first time, he flinches. not because he is in pain, but the feeling of skin against skin is so foreign, like a wound of its own. you blink up at him, soft and sweet, and you show him your hands, what you're doing with them.

"just going to clean it out and stitch you up, lieutenant. promise i won't take too long."

but he likes it. the way your soft palm cups his scarred forearm, running a cloth over the lines of blood that trace along the length to his wrist and drip onto the floor. the warm drag of your fingers pushing his skin together so you can hook the needle through and stitch him up solid and effectively. those easy, gentle strokes, threading through skin as you would hem a skirt, a pattern that you have not forgotten that is now being weaved onto his very body.

he'll wear your stitch pattern like a patch he has so dutifully earned. and you will wear his marks just the same, yes she will, the good girl that she is.

when you finish, he grunts, flexing his fist to gauge the tautness of his skin and the way the wound burns as he stretches his arm. he tilts his head to the side, glaring. your hands rest easy there, still pressed up against him, and he nods at you expectantly.

"open y'r mouth, sergeant."

and you do. because he's your lieutenant, and he has given you an order. he hikes his mask up, revealing a disgusting grin and the sharp edge of a torn lip, a face mangled beyond recognition. when he spits in your mouth, he tastes just as you expected--like sand and smoke.

"now swallow."

and you do, but not because he's your lieutenant, it's something else, something more. not afraid, but intrigued, somehow not put off, but needing sustenance.

when he crowds you in the infirmary later that night, you don't understand. you don't understand the sudden need to touch, the way he grips your ass, the nasty way he bites at your jaw and pushes your pants down your thighs and puts his cock between your thighs.

he promises he won't fuck you, promises he'll be nice this time, but it's hard to discern between reality and heaven when he lets the tip catch on your clit with every frantic stroke. you squeak with every rough thrust, pressing your ass against his pelvis as you arch your back, wanting to see his face, wanting to kiss him, wanting to make this tender and soft and a little romantic, but that isn't ghost.

ghost is mean. ghost isn't a giver, he's a taker. ghost is made of sharp edges only, broken glass on all sides, it's such a shame his cock is so nice and so big and so good, lieutenant, please, i need it--

"need more," is what you beg, even though you know he can't give it to you. you know, but he does it anyway, he slips a big hand between your thighs and opens you up, and you cry when he finally sinks deep, hoisting you up, your back tight against his chest as he learns how quiet the voices in his head are when he's so deep in your pretty, pretty pussy.

he slips another hand around your throat, baring it, giving himself room so he can bite at your neck and lick over the salt and brand you with the evidence of the reprieve he refuses to give, but you don't care, all you can do is smile.

you know his secrets now, the things he would never tell, the things he can't say out loud.

it's almost frightening that you don't really care if he has to kill you to keep you quiet.

[thecassafrasstree]

Had a few folks interested in how I made the patches I posted for Solarpunk Aesthetic Week, so I thought I'd give y'all my step-by-step process for making hand-embroidered patches!

First, choose your fabric and draw on your design. You can use basically any fabric for this - for this project I'm using some felt I've had lying around in my stash for ages.

Next, choose your embroidery floss. For my patches I split my embroidery floss into two threads with 3 strands each, as pictured. You can use as many strands in your thread as you prefer, but for the main body of my patches I prefer 3 strands.

Next you're going to start filling your design using a back stitch.

First, put in a single stitch where you want your row to start.

Poke your needle up through the fabric 1 stitch-length away from your first stitch.

Poke your needle back down the same hole your last stitch went into so they line up end-to-end.

Repeat until you have a row of your desired length (usually the length of that colour section from one end to the other). Once you have your first row, you're going to do your next row slightly offset from your first row so that your stitches lay together in a brick pattern like this:

Make sure your rows of stitches are tight together, or you'll get gaps where the fabric shows through.

Rinse and repeat with rows of back stitch to fill in your patch design.

When you're almost to the end of your thread, poke your needle through to the back of the fabric and pull the thread under the back part of the stitching to tuck in the end. Don't worry if it looks messy - no one's gonna see the back anyway.

This next step is fully optional, but I think it makes the patch design really pop. Once your patch is filled in, you can use black embroidery floss to outline your design (or whatever colour you want to outline with - it's your patch, do what you want). I use the full thread (6 strands, not split) of embroidery floss to make a thicker outline.

I use the same back stitch I used to fill the piece to make an outline that adds some separation and detail. You could use most any 'outlining' stitch for this, but I just use back stitch because it's just easier for me to do.

Once you're finished embroidering your patch, it's time to cut it out!

Make sure to leave a little border around the edge to use for sewing your patch on your jacket/bag/blanket/whatever, and be careful not to accidentally cut through the stitches on the back of the patch.

If you have a sturdy enough fabric that isn't going to fray, you can just leave it like this. If not, I recommend using a whip stitch/satin stitch to seal in the exposed edges (I find that splitting your embroidery floss into 3-strand threads works best for this).

And then you're done! At this point you can put on iron-on backing if you want, or just sew it on whatever you wanna put it on. Making patches this way does take a long time, but I feel that the results are worth it.

Thanks for reading this tutorial! I hope it was helpful. If anyone makes patches using this method, I'd love to see them! 😁

[alexaloraetheris]

Oh boy, I feel like it's time for a post nobody will like.

We all know clothes are getting worse. Recently I found some jeans I bought in high school, and since I lost weight recently I tried them on and they fit, so I'll be wearing them once we get out of the Hell season.

But I took them and compared them to the most recent pair of jeans I bought, and... Honestly the difference in quality is so fucking stark it made me want to give up on life. The jeans I wore in high school have gone through everything. I'm talking half of Europe here, because one of our teachers was pretty big on school trips everywhere she could get the money for. They've been washed, tumbled, survived an actual car crash and they're still good.

The most recent pair I machine-washed ONCE, everything else was hand-wash only. I babied them to the max because they made my ass look like was on Instagram. Do you know what they look like now?

They're full of fixes like these. They lasted less than a year on their own. I got another decent year out of them SOLELY because I kept fixing them. And fixing them again. The crotch alone I had to fix SEVEN TIMES. I COUNTED.

And these weren't cheap jeans! C&A jeans tend to be around 40$ these days, and I got these for about 30 with a discount. I expected them to last me AT LEAST a few years, because those high school jeans? THEY'RE THE SAME FUCKING BRAND.

Considering this was the quality I was getting for nearly 40$ I figured I might as well get the same quality for 15$ and downloaded SHEIN. I didn't get jeans from them but I got some light, fluttery summer pants in the style that, honestly, I fucking love. I got three pairs for the price of one C&A jeans, and I am aware I will have to baby them even more, because out of the five pairs of pants in total I have bought on SHEIN only ONE is made of the fabric that I might be brave enough to machine wash. And with SHEIN continually getting sued for using sweatshops I probably won't be getting those pants again.

So what to do with that shitfuck situation?

I am insanely lucky my grandma knew how to sew really well and didn't mind me looking over her shoulder as long as I was quiet. I am aware that's not a skill everyone has, but quite frankly? When nobody has any money and even paying big bucks for clothes does not guarantee any kind of quality, and even fucking THRIFT STORES are full of just junk now, I think it's time to face the facts.

You need to learn how to sew.

I'm not talking about sewing your own clothes, though if you can and you have the time and patience, it's probably the best option (good luck finding decent fabric, because we can't even find THAT anymore unless you're ordering from fucking Belgium). I'm talking about fixing up seams and sewing on a patch, little repairs that make your clothes last. It might be junk, but with sewing you can make it last twice as long for the price of a spool of thread.

Now that I've pissed off everyone who is, for some reason, morally opposed to learning how to sew because it's a 'girly hobby' or 'supporting the patriarchy' (a take that left me baffled like nothing else) I'm going to piss off everyone who already knows how to sew.

I recommend getting this little guy.

It's called a stapler sewing machine, for obvious reasons. If I recall correctly, it was invented to fix clothes on the go for fashion shows and/or cosplay. It does only a chain stitch and needs to be pushed manually, but if you need to, like, hem your trousers and you don't want to spend half an hour on doing it manually (and don't already have an actual sewing machine) this is a lifesaver.

Here's a tutorial how it operates:

Now, why am I recommending this? Because it will only set you back six bucks. I got two right off the bat because I was banking on one not working (and I was right) and so I could use it for spare parts. The one in the video (Spring Come) is the one I have as well, and it's the one that actually works. I can't vouch for any unmarked ones, but the blue one works. It IS a little temperamental, but with a bit of practice it makes things so much easier.

The reason I'm not recommending an electric machine of any kind, even the one that costs 18$, is because, if you're a beginner, then an automatic sewing machine becomes a machine that exponentially speeds up the rate at which you make mistakes, and if it breaks down, good luck fixing it unless you have a dad/uncle/friend who knows his electronics. This thing can be fixed with a screwdriver, and takes the same needles as an ordinary sewing machine.

You can buy a bundle of needles just about anywhere for any price and they'll be decent as long as they're steel, but I would recommend looking for some actual better quality thread. Everywhere else, you can pinch pennies, but the thread itself is what's holding your clothes together, so this should be the part where you're looking for quality instead of price.

Alright, those of you who didn't scroll past with a derisive scoff at my take, I hope I've been helpful.

[rangerbarbz]

Serving Up Romance

Author’s Note: Guys holy FUCK y’all have blown up my account!! Thank you all so much! I just can’t believe it like i'm going bonkers. Thank you so much for all your kind words and everything!! Also, I can’t believe I’ve never written for 80s Stan that’s crazy. (Also i know he’s never worn a denim jacket but i had a vision) 

“Serving up Romance”

You had been working as a waitress at Greasy’s Diner since you first moved to the strange town of Gravity Falls. While others might turn their nose up at waitressing, you loved it. You got the opportunity to know everyone in town, hear their gossip, and meet passer-bys driving through on road trips. You never knew who was going to walk through those doors or what incredible story they were going to tell you. One slow day at the diner, you were making a pot of coffee when you heard the bell above the door jingle. 

“Welcome to Greasy’s! Sit wherever you want, and I’ll be with you in just a sec,” you called out, pouring water into the coffee maker. You heard someone sit at the swivel stool behind you. 

“Take your time, doll. I’m in no rush,” a gruff voice responded. Hm. You didn’t recognize that tone. You turned around to see a man with dark brown hair in a white t-shirt and denim jacket, chewing on a toothpick. You noticed that there were patches of different fabrics and patterns all over the jacket. He hadn’t noticed you were looking at him because he was reading the small menu that was attached to the metal condiment holder. 

You smiled at him. “I like your jacket,” you complimented the handsome stranger. 

His attention quickly diverted to you. He chuckled. “Oh, this old thing?” He lifted up his arms to show off more of his patches. “Thanks. It’s been through the ringer let me tell ya. My ma taught me how to hand stitch so that any time I ripped it, I could fix it right up.” 

“That’s so sweet.” You reached out to point at one that was yellow with small, red flowers on his shoulder. “I like this one.” He looked over to see which one you were talking about and laughed. 

“That one I got from a motel pillow case! I accidentally caught my shoulder on fire.” You raised your eyebrows at him. His gaze became stern. “I learned to keep my distance from candles that day on.” 

You burst out laughing. “Now is this a true story?” you asked, propping your chin up on the palm of your hand. 

He grinned, moving his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “True as you are pretty, sweetheart.”

You giggled as a blush started to spread across your cheeks.“Alright, slick, what can I get you?” you responded, removing a notepad from the front pocket of your apron. He picked up the menu and gave it a quick once over.

“Uh… Give me the bacon and eggs. Scrambled, please, and one cup of coffee.” You finished scribbling his order and turned to put it in the window. 

“Can I get a name for this order?” you asked, winking at him from the coffee pot. You began to walk back over to him with a mug of black coffee. 

He gave you a wide smile. “Stan Pines, proprietor of The Mystery Shack,” he answered, hand outreached to you in greeting. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, waitress at Greasy’s Diner.” You shook his hand; it was firm, calloused, and felt very nice against your smooth skin. You turned over his hand to take a look at his scarred knuckles you noticed when he was holding the menu earlier. You dragged your thumb over the puckered, white lines.

“You got fighting hands, Stan.” You gazed at him through your lashes and grinned.“Sexy.” Now it was his turn to be flustered. His face grew red at your bold statement and laughed nervously. 

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I, uh, used to box, and I’ve gotten myself into a fair share of…scuffles.” You gave him a small smile. You were about to comment on that until the bell dinged from the window signaling that his food was done. 

“Bacon and eggs are up!” the chef barked. His loud voice startled you which made Stan laugh. 

“Sorry, let me get your food real quick.” You let go of his hand reluctantly and went to get his plate. What you didn’t see was him smirking to himself and touching the scars you grazed. He couldn’t remember the last time someone genuinely complimented him. 

Things started to pick up after you served Stan his food, so you didn’t get to continue your conversation. However, you made sure that when he paid for his meal, you got to talk to him one last time. 

“Will I be seeing you again, Stan?” you asked, getting his change from the cash register. “You should come next Tuesday! We serve waffle tacos then.” He laughed as you dropped the coins into his hand. 

“Well, I obviously can’t miss waffle tacos,” he responded with a smile. 

“I’ll see you then. It was nice to meet you, Stan! Don’t go catching yourself on fire on your way out!” you joked as he began walking towards the exit. 

“No promises, doll.” 

Over the next couple weeks, Stan continued to come into the diner and sit in the same swivel stool as he did when you first met him. He ordered a different thing on the menu each time making it his goal to try everything you had to offer. Your conversations were playful, flirty, but, most of all, interesting. He had quite the colorful past, but that didn’t scare you off. In fact, it made you more intrigued. 

One day, during a particularly busy shift, Stan walked in as always. “Hey, hon!” you greeted him while placing a plate of pancakes in front of a fussy toddler. “I’ll be right with ya!” You then noticed he had one of his hands behind his back, and he seemed a bit nervous. 

He didn’t sit down this time, but instead stood at the cash register. You walked over with a confused expression on your face. “Stan? Are you not eating today?” 

“Um, well, no. Not today, doll. I, uh, wanted to give you these.” His face was bright pink as he presented you with a large bouquet of wildflowers. You gasped. “I hope you like them. I found a whole bunch of them in a field near one of the backroads.”

“Oh, Stan,” you said softly. You took the bouquet from him and held it gently, admiring it. “It’s just beautiful, but why?” 

He started to rub the back of his neck and looked down at his feet. “There’s a drive-in movie happening tonight outside of town, and I wanted to take you with me,” he murmured shyly. “I think you’re real nice and fun to talk to and you got a knock-out smile.” He paused. “I would…like to get to know you outside the diner.” He finally made eye contact with you to see your reaction to everything he had said. 

You hadn’t stopped beaming at him since he handed you the flowers. “Stan, I would love to join you.” You reached out to cup his face with your free hand and gave him a peck on his cheek, his stubble tickling your lips. “What time should I be expecting you?” 

His eyes widened at you, his hand touching where you had kissed him. “Um, I. The, uh, movie starts at 7:45, so I’ll pick you up at 7:00,” he stammered, face as red as his Diablo. 

“Sounds good, sugar,” you replied, giving him a slip of paper that you had written your address on while he was talking. “I can’t wait to see what tricks a romantic like you has up his sleeves.” 

Stan let out a giggle before quickly covering it up by clearing his throat. “I guess you’ll have to find out tonight. I’ll see you then, sweetheart.” He gave your hand a squeeze before walking out the way he came in. 

“I’m going on a date with Mr. Mystery,” you whispered to yourself excitedly, burying your nose in the bouquet. 

PART 2 COMING SOON

[vanessaedp]

141 + König reacting to you taking off your mask.

taking off ur bally 😜😜✌️✌️😗😗🫶🫶

warnings: fluff, british slang 😛

FLASHING GIF WARNING

___

Price

He had known the reason why you wore a balaclava and if he's honest. He hadn't ever expected you to take it off.

That was until today.

It was a simple mission really, do some fancy dress up party and poison the target.

However, to get into the party you need to have a partner

So, you and Price partnered up and went to the party as a fake couple. You wore a simple red dress and he wore a tuxedo.

The day before the mission he approached you. "Planning to paint your mask to match the dress, Sergeant?" He joked.

"No sir." You shake your head. "Actually, I wasn't going to wear it at all but now that you say that I might have another idea." You scoff at Price's dissapointed expression.

On the day of the mission you and Price are sat in a vehicle, he's running through the mission with you and take your mask off.

His look alone sent shivers down your spine. You expected him to look at you with horror or disgust but to your suprise he looked at you with admiration.

"Bloody hell, your beautiful, sarge." He said, his voice raspy and his throat dry.

"Don't get too excited, captain." You laugh.

Ghost

You and Ghost had some things in common.

You both were traumatised at a young age and you both wore masks.

He cared for you somewhat. Like how he cared for Soap

Except he liked you more.

During this mission it hadn't gone well. You had a bullet graze the side of your head and now you were splayed across the concrete floor with Ghost surrounded by mangled metal.

"Wheres the bleeding?" Ghost checked everywhere.

"My head." You mutter, turning your head to show a dark patch on your mask.

"May I?" Ghost's fingers hooked under your mask as if he was going to rip it off anyway.

You furrow your brows and roll your eyes. "It's not like I have a bloody choice, i'm bleeding to death you tosser."

Ghost grumbles something under his breath before peeling the mask off and placing it beside your head.

You swear you see his eyes widen the teeny tiniest bit. His eyes trail down your face for a split second before setting on your bleeding skull. "Right.." He says with a sigh, his voice hoarse.

"Enjoying the view?" You scoff, wincing when he starts treating your wound.

"You wish." He mumbles, his gaze flickering down to your face and lingering there for a few seconds.

Soap

You and Soap had been dating for 3 years. Not once have you taken your mask off.

He doesn't mind but all he wants is for you to trust him.

Soap allowed to stay off while you were recovering from a near-death experience. His left arm was hanging on by a thread after being abushed in a mission. He survived and is now on drugs so he can handle the pain.

You visited after his deployment to see how he was. He acted like a drunk man when he saw you, probably from the drugs.

"Who the feck are you..?" He slurred, his head lolling to one side. "My girlfriend won't be happy to see this.." He mutters.

You giggle and take a seat beside his bed. "I am your girlfriend, Johnny." You look down at his leg. It's stitched neatly. You grimace for a moment. You can handle all the gore in the world but your boyfriends? Now thats a different story.

You hear his heartbeat monitor pick up. "You wha?" He asks, his voice higher pitched and his brows raised.

"I'm your girlfriend." You slowly place a hand on his face.

"Fucking hell." He mutters, his eyes wide. "Are you sure? I'm abit of a twat." He shuffles, trying to sit up however you place a hand on his chest and push him back down.

"If I wasn't your girlfriend would I do this?" You hesitantly lift your mask up and lean close, kissing his cheek. You do this because he'll probably forget about it but its precious to see his reaction anyway.

"Fuck me sideways." He says under his breath, looking at you with admiration. His eyes stare at your eyes then the little scar on your left eyebrow. Then the burn scar shaped like a cross. Presumably from a branding iron. He then stared at your lips. He licked his then spoke.

"Can you do that again? But on my lips this time."

Gaz

"Listen i'm so sorry.. I don't even know how this happened I swear i'll fix it." Gaz protested. He accidentally ripped your mask while in a sparring match, thankfully you covered your face before anyone else saw.

"Gaz, it's fine." You say a little sarcastically. Sure, you were pissed he had ripped your only mask but he offered to fix it so there wasn't much point in being annoyed with him. "I want it fixed by tomorrow."

"Of course. I promise it'll be fixed." He even pinky swore on it.

After a long 12 hours of being in your room without letting anyone in with fear that they will see you without your mask you hear a knock at the door. "Gaz?"

"I've got your mask. Can I come in." He asks, twisting the door knob.

"Alright.." You mumble and sit up. Watching the door open and Gaz step in, he shuts it behind him and stops dead in his tracks when he sees you.

"Christ." He swallows hard. "You don't really need this mask, do you? It's only a silly balaclava." He waves it around.

"Kyle give it here." You hold your hand out and Gaz sighs, walking up to you and handing it over. He visibly tenses up when your hand brushes against his.

"So does that mean you'll wear it less around me?" He sounds excited, his eyes fixed on your face as you slipped the mask back on.

"Don't get your hopes up, mate. Thanks for fixing it though." You stand up and give him a wink, hitting his shoulder playfully.

König

"Jesus christ how do you wear your hood for so long." You sigh, blowing raspberries through your lips and lifting the bottom of your mask up to let some air through.

It was a heatwave at the base and you were MELTING

"Mine's baggy. More airflow." König stared down at you, his arms folded across his chest. "Why don't you take it off?"

"Fuck off you manky wank-stain." You laugh, shaking your head. "Bloody hell." You whine, the heat irritating you.

"I have a spare hood if you want it, liebe." He offered. "Come." He gestures for you to follow him and you do. He takes you to his room and he rumages through his drawer, tossing you a shirt with two holes in it.

"The bloody hell is this?" You giggle, looking at the massive shirt. "Your a size.. XXL?" You look at the tag.

"Just put the shirt on, selbstgefällig." He rolls his eyes which widen when he sees you take your mask off. It was truly a beautiful sight. Your cheeks pink and flushed from the heat, some strands of hair stick to your forehead. It was all interrupted when you slipped the shirt over your head.

"Schatz.." He mumbles. "Your very pretty, you know. You don't need it." He holds his head low.

"Thank you, König thats very kind of you." You smile under the shirt and adjust it. "Thanks for the hood aswell." You step forward and cup where you think his face is from under the mask. "I'll wear this more often."

You leave the room, leaving König flustered, flabbergasted and head over heels in love.

___

here u go pookies come here and kiss me

[leahrintarou]

hii i wanted to request like enemies to lovers for dabi x fem!reader when reader is one of the villains in league and she and dabi always hated each other, or more like they love each other but won't admit a shit. and also dabi is always this rude, snarky bitch and then one day they get send together for some mission and he gets injured, like somewhere in the chest and reader has to take care of him and patch him up. and like she decides to be a bitch now and she's like paying him back and she's not gentle at all like she's even rougher than needed just because 😆. but then in the middle of the night when she has to change his bandages she just softens because she's actually worried about him and he kisses her and it's like the first time he feels love in thousands years🥺❤️

✩₊˚.�� I HATE YOU - dabi/touya todoroki

CW: swearing, enemies to lovers, dabi being an asshole, y/n is stubborn, they lack communication skills but figure something out in the end lol, mentions of wound stitching, injuries, dabi's daddy issues, quirk usage, a lot of arguing. Word Count: 4.7k Author's Note: hii, sorry for taking so long to write this lol. my schedule was busy as hell. i hope you all enjoy it tho! ty for reading and if you have any requests for me to write, send it in!

"hate."

it was a word that held so much meaning and although y/n wasn't the type to feel it for many things, as she looked at the man standing in her doorframe with a bored expression as she laid in bed, it was all she could feel.

"what do you want touya? im tired." she groaned into her pillow. he rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets. "shigaraki wants us to take care of something for him." he said, making y/n shift to sit up and face him properly. "together?" she questioned. dabi didn't answer and that alone make y/n feel dread in the pit of her stomach. she stood, walking to her door and pushing past dabi to find shigaraki who was sitting in the lobby of their hideout.

"tomura, you seriously sending out touya and i? it's late."

"exactly." he muttered, glancing at y/n as dabi showed up behind her. "given your quirks, i need you two to cause a distraction for me in the city. I've gotta get something from a hero guarded area. it'd be less bothersome if a few of them had to focus a bigger situation."

y/n sighed at that. her ability allowed her to use the quirks others. once she makes physical contact with them, a pill is produced and once ingested, she is able to use their quirk for up to half an hour. "why can't he just do it on his own?"

"because it wont be enough, y/n. just go and don't let you guys' odd relationship fuck anything up."

she glared at shigaraki due to his stern tone and the words he said overall. she didn't speak another words and only walked towards the exit, leaving dabi behind. she began walking off, sighing when dabi caught up next to her.

they walked shoulder to shoulder and y/n reached for his hand to which he pulled away imeedietly. "the fuck is your deal?"

"my deal is that i need your quick. stop bitching."

he gave her a look that almost burned through her being itself. "fine, whatever. just make it quick."

with a swift movement, y/n grabbed his wrist, her fingers just brushing against his skin. she felt the pill form in her palm and quickly swallowed it after placing it on her tongue. for the next thirty minutes, she had full control over dabi's blue flames.

dabi shook off her touch as soon as the transfer was done, shoving his hands back into his pockets. "hope you can handle it."

y/n clenched her fists, feeling the raw power simmering just beneath the surface. "i can handle your little fire tricks just fine."

they continued walking in silence, the tension between them thick, both preparing for the chaos they were about to unleash. the city lights ahead glowed brighter as they approached, a signal that they were nearing their destination. heroes patrolled these streets regularly, and they needed to make their distraction count.

"you take the east side. i’ll take the west. we meet back here once it's done," y/n said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline starting to pump through her veins.

dabi gave her a lazy nod, his eyes scanning the area.  "don’t burn the place down too fast." she said, voice sharp with a stern tone.

“take your own damn advice,” dabi sneered, turning on his heel without another glance, heading toward his side of the city.

y/n scowled at his retreating figure before focusing on her own task. she approached a crowded intersection, raising her hand as the blue flames sparked to life at her fingertips. they burned cold, unnatural, just like dabi’s. with a sharp flick of her wrist, she sent the fire roaring down the street, igniting everything in its path. cars exploded, storefronts erupted into flames, and terrified screams echoed through the night air.

sirens blared almost immediately. she sighed in frustration. this mission wasn’t the problem; it was having to work alongside dabi. she hated the way his flames felt inside her—too raw, too unstable. she could handle it, but the discomfort gnawed at her.

on the other side of the city, she could see dabi causing just as much destruction. his blue flames lit up the night sky, and even from a distance, she could feel their heat. as much as she despised him, she couldn’t deny the sheer force of his quirk. their fires painted the city in an eerie blue glow, chaos unfolding just as shigaraki had planned. every hero in the area would soon be rushing their way.

but despite the destruction, y/n could feel the strain. her body wasn’t built to handle dabi’s flames for too long, and each second was like a slow burn from the inside out. she clenched her teeth, refusing to show any weakness. not in front of him. never in front of him.

as another car exploded in front of her, y/n felt the flames flare uncontrollably for a moment, forcing her to stumble back. she quickly reined them in, but the effort was draining. she could hear the distant thrum of footsteps—heroes were coming, and they needed to keep the distraction going.

without warning, dabi appeared beside her, his usual bored expression replaced by a smirk that only fueled her irritation. "you’re pushing it too hard," he remarked coldly.

"i’m fine," y/n snapped, her voice sharper than intended, though there was a slight tremor beneath it.

he cocked an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "doesn’t look like it. you’re burning out."

"i said i’m fine," she repeated, venom in her tone. she forced the flames to obey her, though her body screamed in protest.

before he could say anything more, the ground around them rumbled. the heat in the air intensified, and y/n’s heart sank as she saw who had arrived—endeavor.

out of all the heroes, of course, it had to be him.

endeavor’s flames blazed brighter than anything y/n had seen, casting long shadows across the wreckage. his eyes locked onto dabi and y/n, sharp with recognition and disgust. “enough,” he barked, his voice deep and commanding. “this ends now.”

dabi’s expression darkened, but the smirk that stretched across his face was nothing short of malicious.

y/n swallowed, the tension between father and son palpable in the air. she could feel dabi’s flames still swirling inside her, unstable and dangerous. they were running out of time. they needed to keep endeavor distracted long enough for shigaraki to finish the mission, but with the fire slipping out of her control, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold on.

dabi moved forward, the flames on his body flickering angrily as he faced his father head-on. "you gonna try and stop me? i’d love to see you fail. again."

y/n watched as the two squared off, the heat between them almost unbearable. she could feel the pressure mounting, knowing she had to act fast, but part of her was consumed by the sheer hatred radiating from dabi. it was so intense it was suffocating. he wants this fight, she realized.

but right now, they couldn’t afford it. not with the mission still in play.

"touya, focus," she hissed under her breath, stepping up beside him. "we’re not here for this."

he barely spared her a glance, his jaw clenched. “shut up, y/n. stay out of it.”

y/n glared at him, biting back the retort that bubbled in her throat. as much as she despised him, she wasn’t about to let him throw the entire mission away for some personal grudge.

endeavor’s flames flared even brighter, his voice booming as he addressed dabi directly. "you’re not walking away from this one."

"we’ll see about that," dabi said through a sigh.

before either of them could make a move, y/n raised her hand, sending up a barrier of blue flames between dabi and endeavor. the fire crackled wildly, the heat forcing both men to step back.

“touya, get your shit together,” she snapped, glaring at him. “this isn’t about you and him right now. we’ve got a job to finish.”

dabi’s eyes widened with fury, his body rigid with anger. "are you serious right now? stay out of this, y/n. this has nothing to do with you."

“it has everything to do with me,” she shot back, her voice low. “if you screw this up, we’re both dead.”

“i’m not screwing anything up,” dabi growled, stepping toward her, his flames flaring dangerously. “you think I’m gonna pass up a chance to burn that bastard?” he gestured toward endeavor, who stood on the other side of the wall, watching them closely. "this isn’t just about some stupid distraction. it’s him."

y/n’s hands trembled slightly from the strain of maintaining the flames, but she refused to back down. “you think i care about your daddy issues right now? i’m not dying because you’ve got something to prove.”

dabi’s smirk twisted into a sneer, his voice dripping with venom. "oh, now you’re concerned about dying? cute. you can’t even handle my flames, and you want to play hero? don’t act like you can lecture me."

y/n’s temper flared. "i can handle more than you think, but i’m not stupid enough to throw everything away for some pointless grudge! shigaraki will kill us if you mess this up."

“i don’t care what shigaraki does,” dabi snarled, stepping even closer, his body practically vibrating with heat. “you think I’m afraid of him? of you? you’re out of your league, y/n. stay the hell out of my way.”

---

"touya, lets go!" she shouted. a few long minutes had passed by and both dabi and endeavor suffered injuries. y/n thought that it was just her eyes playing tricks on her, but it wasn’t. there on dabi’s chest was a large gash that spilled blood with every movement he made.

dabi didn’t even flinch, seemingly blinded by his rage. his eyes were locked onto endeavor, and the hatred burned hotter than the flames between them. y/n’s heart pounded in her chest. if they didn’t leave now, it would be too late.

“touya!” she screamed again, but her voice was lost in the roar of the fire and the madness of the fight. dabi was deaf to everything around him. his focus, his obsession with his father, drowned out any reason or sense.

just then, her phone buzzed in her pocket. she fumbled for it, hands shaking, and saw a message from

shigaraki: get out of there now. i’m done here.

her stomach dropped. they needed to leave. now.

she looked back at dabi, her gut twisting with panic. there was no way he could handle another attack in his state. endeavor was gearing up for something big—his flames surging brighter and hotter, ready to end this once and for all.

y/n didn’t even think; she reacted. she reached for dabi’s flames still coursing through her and launched herself forward. her body screamed in protest, the quirk tearing through her reserves, but she unleashed a massive wave of blue fire directly at endeavor. it wasn’t just dabi’s quirk she was using—she’d stored another teleportation quirk earlier in the week just in case. with a strained breath, she activated it.

in an instant, the world blurred, and she and dabi were pulled through space, landing back at the league’s hideout.

they collapsed on the floor. y/n's vision swam as the overwhelming strain of using both quirks at once hit her like a truck. every muscle in her body felt like it was on fire.

dabi was up almost immediately, his eyes wild and furious. “what the hell did you do?!” he roared, looming over her, his chest heaving.

y/n didn’t flinch, didn’t even respond. she just sat there, catching her breath, her eyes glazed with exhaustion and a cold, blank expression on her face.

“why the hell would you—” dabi continued, his voice a mix of anger and something else, something more vulnerable. but y/n didn’t care.

she stood, her legs shaking but her face expressionless. she looked him dead in the eye, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with a venomous calm. "hate."

dabi paused, caught off guard by the single word. his eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent.

“it’s what you live for, isn’t it?” she continued, her voice as cold as the flames she had just wielded. “but it’s going to kill you. and you were too blinded to see it.”

the silence between them was suffocating, tension hanging in the air like the weight of all their unresolved fury and pain. dabi’s lips twisted into a bitter sneer, but he didn’t respond. he couldn’t, not with the truth staring him in the face.

y/n finally turned her back to him, her voice distant as she walked away. "i’m tired, touya. i don’t care anymore."

he didn’t respond and that was unlike him. and although she didn't want it to, she turned around to glance at him. he was clutching the wounded area of his chest, the blood coating his hands. y/n stopped in her tracks and watched as he held her gaze with a heavy glare. "what?" he groaned with less heat in his voice.

"nothi-"

"they got you good." shigaraki said as he entered through the front door. dabi remained silent and y/n let out a sigh. "told you this plan was stupid." she muttered. shigaraki shrugged, holding up some sort of vile in a glass tube. "got what i needed though. thanks."

y/n shook her head and walked over to a table in their hideout where a first aid kit remained. "come on, touya." he never said a word despite their previous argument and the heated tension that remained between them and only followed behind y/n. this was surprising to her and even shigaraki. instead of questioning it though, she just decided to let it be, grateful for the silence.

they got to a nearby bathroom in the hideout, and y/n motioned for dabi to sit on the edge of the sink. "take off your shirt," she ordered, her voice flat, though she couldn’t help the slight irritation lacing her tone. dabi raised an eyebrow but said nothing, peeling off his tattered shirt to reveal the nasty gash on his chest. the wound was deep, the blood still seeping through the cracks of his burned skin.

“so fucking reckless” y/n muttered underneath her breath as she grabbed some antiseptic and gauze from the first aid kit. she didn’t wait for a response before starting to clean the wound, her hands rougher than necessary. dabi hissed in pain but didn’t pull away.

“watch it,” he growled, but there was no real heat in his words. his eyes, usually filled with spite or disinterest, softened for a brief moment as he looked at her. something shifted in his expression, like an apology he wasn’t quite ready to say aloud. instead, he settled for his usual sarcasm. "you don’t have to be so damn rough."

"oh, i’m sorry," y/n replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she pressed a little harder than needed on the wound. "is the fireproof bastard too delicate for a little first aid? if you didn’t want to get patched up, you shouldn’t have gone toe-to-toe with endeavor.

"i didn’t ask for your help, did i?"

"no, you didn’t. but here we are," y/n snapped, stitching up the wound with more force than was probably necessary. her fingers worked quickly, efficiently, but there was no gentleness in her touch.

dabi’s breath hitched as she tugged at the stitches. "you’re enjoying this way too much."

“maybe,” y/n replied, not looking up from her work. “or maybe i’m just pissed off because you almost got yourself killed. again.”

the room fell into a tense silence, only broken by dabi’s sharp breaths and the sound of her sewing needle pulling through his skin. but when y/n finally looked up, she caught dabi’s gaze. his eyes were softer now, not filled with the usual defiance. instead, there was something different in them, something almost… regretful.

“what?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. "you’re staring."

“nothing,” dabi muttered, but he didn’t look away. his voice, usually laced with sarcasm or anger, was quieter now. he held her gaze for a moment longer. it wasn’t filled with the usual hate or resentment, but something else entirely. it almost looked like an apology, unspoken but there. maybe he realized just how close he’d come to death, and for once, wasn’t pushing her away.

after the final stitch, y/n wrapped the wound tightly, her hands no longer rough but steady. she didn’t say anything for a moment, just focusing on her work, and when she was done, she stood back, her eyes meeting his again. the air between them felt heavy, like there was something unspoken lingering just beneath the surface.

“you’re a reckless idiot,” she muttered, shaking her head, though her voice was softer, the anger dissipating into something more resigned.

dabi’s expression faltered, and for a moment, he just looked at her, his usual sharp retorts gone. "guess i am," he said quietly, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. "but you still patched me up, didn’t you?"

y/n crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. "only because i wasn’t going to let you bleed out like an idiot. someone’s gotta keep you alive."

there was a beat of silence before dabi let out a breath, leaning his head back against the wall. “guess i should thank you.”

y/n scoffed. “don’t bother. just… try not to get yourself killed next time.”

dabi’s eyes flickered to hers again, and this time, there was no sarcasm or sneer, just a tired acceptance. “i’ll try.” his tone was surprisingly sincere, catching her off guard. she blinked, taken aback, but instead of saying anything, she just grabbed the bloodied cloths and turned to leave. "get some rest," she muttered, not looking back.

for once, dabi didn’t argue.

---

it was the middle of the night, and despite the quiet that had settled over the hideout, y/n couldn’t sleep. no matter how many times she turned over in bed, sleep evaded her. the events from earlier kept playing over in her mind, along with the way dabi had been uncharacteristically silent after she patched him up.

with a frustrated sigh, she finally gave up on resting and pushed herself out of bed. maybe checking on dabi would settle her thoughts. his injuries needed to be looked at again anyway, and the bandages likely needed changing. she grabbed the first aid kit and padded softly down the hall toward his room.

when she got there, the door was slightly ajar. peeking inside, she saw him lying on the bed, his defined back rising and falling with the steady rhythm of sleep. for a moment, she hesitated. dabi was never one to sleep deeply, always waking up at the slightest noise or movement. but his bandages had to be changed, and she didn’t trust him to do it himself.

quietly, she slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her. she approached the bed, taking a seat on the edge as carefully as she could to avoid waking him. he was still, his usual guarded expression replaced by something softer in sleep. for a brief second, she allowed herself to just watch him. he always seemed so hardened, so untouchable, but like this... he looked almost human.

gently, y/n reached for the blood-stained bandages wrapped around his chest, her fingers working carefully to undo them. she peeled the old wrappings away, revealing the wound beneath. she grabbed fresh bandages from the kit, preparing to rewrap him, her movements slow and deliberate.

just as she began to wind the bandage around him again, dabi stirred. his eyes snapped open, instantly alert, and his hand shot out to grab her wrist before she could move any further. “what the hell are you doing?” he growled, his voice low and raspy from sleep.

y/n froze, meeting his gaze, her heart skipping a beat. "relax, it’s just me," she said quietly. "im checking to see if your stitches held and I've gotta change your bandages."

he blinked, still groggy but releasing her wrist. his grip loosened, and he leaned back against the pillow, eyes narrowing slightly but without the usual hostility. "im not a child. i can do that myself,” he muttered, though there wasn’t much bite to his words.

"i know, but you looked like you were going to bleed out earlier so forgive me for double-checking." she retorted, continuing to wrap the fresh bandages around his chest. her touch was gentle but firm, and dabi didn’t stop her this time, watching her work in silence.

"always playing the martyr, huh?" he mumbled after a long pause, his voice quieter now. "not a martyr. just realistic. you're reckless and you know it."

dabi was silent as she finished up. he sat up once she was done and watched as she placed the items back into the first aid kit. "why are you up so late anyways?"

"couldn’t sleep." she shrugged. dabi raised a questioning brow and she shrugged. "you expect me to sleep after everything that happened today?"

"causing chaos isn't something that you haven't done before though." he hummed, watching as she compiled all of the used bandage together to throw away. "but watching you almost get yourself killed was."

"you really care that much?"

y/n lowered her eyes at him and shook her head in pure disbelief. "no shit, touya. why would i have teleported us home? stitch up your wound, and even hours later, i come back to check on you. you sound so fucking selfish right now." she stood up, turning to walk away, but dabi reached for her wrist.

he caught it just in time, letting out a small groan from the swift movement. "what the fuck, touya. be careful." she said, placing the first aid kit down and a hand to his back. "im not selfish."

"really?" she deadpanned. "y/n, you've hated me ever since i joined the league. understand me when i get confused on whether or not you actually give a fuck when it comes to me." he ran is palm down his face, trying to fight his exhaustion.

"i can say the same for you." y/n spoke.

"i only return the attitude that's given to me." dabi said, staring at y/n as she tried to read his features but he gave her nothing to work with other than an emotionless expression. "i don't hate you."

"so what do you feel, y/n? you're not making sense."

she stared at him and they held eye contact. y/n let down whatever guards she had up in hopes that dabi can read what she was trying to tell him. he was good at that whether she liked it or not. "say it." he finally said. y/n figured that he got the idea in just mere seconds.

"no." she shook her head with a scoff. "i hate the fact that i feel it for you anyways. I'm not going to speak it into reality."

dabi’s grip on y/n’s wrist loosened as he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “you really think not saying it makes a difference? you’ve already given yourself away, y/n.”

y/n’s eyes flashed with irritation. “you don’t get it. saying it makes it real, and i can’t deal with that right now.”

dabi scoffed, leaning back on the bed, his eyes narrowing as he looked up at her. “oh, spare me the drama. you think i don’t know how you feel? you act like you’re the only one here who’s conflicted.”

y/n glared at him, yanking her wrist free. “conflicted? you? you barely even acknowledge when people care about you. you’re reckless with your life, like nothing matters, and you think i’m the one being dramatic?” her voice rose, frustration bubbling over.

dabi sat up straighter, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “don’t pretend like you’ve been so open about your feelings either, y/n. you’ve spent most of your time pushing me away or acting like you couldn’t care less. and now, when it actually matters, you wanna play the martyr?”

her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “i’m not playing anything, touya! you’re impossible to deal with. you push everyone away, you never let anyone in, and now you have the nerve to act like i’m the problem?”

dabi’s expression hardened, his eyes flashing with anger. “you really think you’ve got me all figured out, huh? like you’re the only one who’s allowed to have their guard up? newsflash, y/n, you’re not as mysterious as you think.”

y/n’s frustration boiled over as she crossed her arms and shot him a withering glare. “then what do you want from me, touya? huh? what is it you actually want? because all you ever do is act like nothing gets to you!”

dabi stood up abruptly, towering over her as the tension between them thickened. “you think it’s easy for me to be like this? you think i enjoy pushing people away?” his voice was low, dangerous, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and something else y/n couldn’t quite place.

her heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to back down. “then stop doing it! stop acting like you don’t care about anyone or anything!”

“i care more than you think!” dabi snapped, taking a step closer. “but you—you’re always so busy pretending you don’t want this, like it’s all some burden for you!”

y/n’s pulse quickened, her frustration and confusion mounting. “i never said i didn’t want—”

before she could finish, dabi’s hands shot up to either side of her face, pulling her in roughly. his lips crashed against hers with a sudden, fierce intensity that stole the breath from her lungs. the kiss was aggressive, meant to shut her up, and y/n’s mind went blank as every thought evaporated under the force of it.

her body reacted before she could process what was happening, her hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer even as her heart raced with the shock of it all.

dabi’s lips moved against hers, demanding and relentless, and she found herself kissing him back just as fiercely, pouring all her pent-up anger and frustration into the kiss. it was heated, messy, and full of everything they couldn’t say out loud.

he pulled back for a brief moment, their breaths mingling as he muttered, “you talk too damn much.”

before she could respond, he kissed her again, cutting off any retort she might’ve had. his hands slid from her face to her waist, gripping her tightly as if he couldn’t stand to let her go. the anger between them melted into something else entirely—something raw and consuming.

y/n’s heart hammered in her chest as she kissed him back, her hands finding their way to his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. the argument, the tension, all of it faded into the background as they lost themselves in the intensity of the moment.

when they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. dabi’s grip on her waist remained firm as he stared down at her, his expression softening just slightly.

“maybe i don’t want you to shut up,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, “but you make it hard to think.”

y/n’s lips parted, still swollen from the kiss, her breath coming in shallow bursts. “then maybe you should start listening,” she whispered, her voice shaky but steady.

dabi let out a low chuckle, his thumb brushing lightly against her hip. “yeah, maybe.” his voice dropped even lower as he added, “but that doesn’t mean i’m done shutting you up.”

with that, he pulled her back into another kiss, this one slower but no less intense, as if he was determined to make sure she knew exactly how he felt, even if neither of them were ready to say the words just yet.

she pulled back for a breath, her forehead meeting with his shoulder as she closed her eyes.

"i hate you, touya."

"then hate me more."

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[littlejuicebox]

The Little Things

Summary: Sometime in Act 1, Astarion is beginning to realize he may like you more than he thought.

Tags/Warnings: pure fluff, feelings realization, sexual innuendo, in game spoilers

*

Astarion’s nice, simple plan is falling apart at the seams. He isn’t quite sure when it began or how you slowly wormed your way into his heart like the parasite wormed its way into his brain.

He thinks it must have started shortly after the night you two spent together in the clearing. Perhaps the day you drew his scars for him in the dirt?

You notice the little things about him, and it flusters him entirely. No one else has ever bothered to pay attention long enough to catch all the subtleties you seem to see without missing a beat.

*

You notice he makes tea but never drinks it. It tastes like dirty water on his vampiric tongue, but he loves the smell and the warmth. One day you bring him a cup of tea and urge him to try it.

“This one will be different, I promise.” You say, and you smile at him so sweetly it’s impossible to refuse.

He quirks a brow but obliges. One small sip reveals that this tea is palatable… in fact, it’s actually enjoyable.

“What’s in this? Better not be a sore attempt at poisoning me.” He murmurs with a playful smirk before taking another long sip of the warm liquid.

You grin and show him your finger, where the smallest pinprick can be seen.

Blood. Of course.

His face feels hot, like patches of warmth are spreading across his cheeks. It must be the tea.

“Clever pup,” He chuckles, “I— thank you.”

*

One day you’re simply walking by him in camp, returning from a quick foraging trip in the woods. He’s perched upon a stool, reading a book, and drinking the remnants of his morning tea you’d brought to him just over an hour ago.

It’s a lovely little treat every morning. He’s secretly delighted every time you bring it by.

You pause and smile, “Enjoying your book?”

He hums a soft yes and dog ears the page before clasping it shut to acknowledge you.

“Quite, darling. And you? Enjoying your… digging in the mud?” He asks, cocking his head just slightly as he examines the small basket of potatoes you’d procured from the earth.

“It’s not so bad,” You laugh, and then your eyes flicker to his book, “Oh, I almost forgot.”

You rustle through your bag and withdraw a thin strip of burgundy fabric, offering it to him.

Astarion takes the gift. It’s a bookmark. There’s a delicate letter A stitched in gold thread at the top of the small trinket. He’d spent a few hours last week showing you how to sew and embroider little details.

“I noticed you always fold the corners of the pages, and Gale is always grumbling about it when you return his books, so…” You shrug and smile again, “Plus, it’s a small thank you. For the sewing lessons.”

His face feels hot again. It must be the tea. Again.

“Ah, yes. I shall be sure to use it now, then. Don’t want to risk angering the wizard and getting us all blown up!” He jokes as he places the bookmark atop his book, mostly as an excuse to break away from your gaze, which is causing him to feel flustered. He doesn’t know why.

You laugh softly and step closer to him, “It’s not as good as your work.”

You absentmindedly take his hand and turn it, revealing the inner sleeve of his shirt. Your fingers trace along the cuff, admiring a piece of his own embroidery he’d done a few days ago.

“I saw you stitched these little flowers on your shirt the other day. Can you show me how to do that?” You ask, bringing your eyes back up to meet his.

He swallows. Your hand is still resting upon his wrist.

“O-of course, darling. Anytime.” He responds, still thrown. How had you noticed that? His skin tingles from where your fingers had grazed against him.

But it isn’t a bad sensation. He quite liked it, actually.

You grin and then hoist your basket back up before bidding goodbye and walking over to show Gale your harvest. Astarion is left befuddled and simply staring as you walk away.

*

That same night you’re by the campfire, and Astarion is showing you how to stitch small flowers on a scrap of cloth. You’re leaning over his shoulder, watching his work intently. The proximity is making his fingers fumble more than they usually would, but you don’t seem to notice.

“You filed your nails today,” You remark, absently, as you watch his skilled fingers work their creative magic.

He blinks and pauses mid-stitch.

His nails? You noticed the length of his nails?

“I wasn’t aware they were so obscenely long that it would be so obvious.” He responds, his nose wrinkling just slightly. Perhaps his standards of cleanliness and appearance had fallen in the wilds.

“Oh, it’s not that,” You reply, your tone almost dreamy as you continue to observe the rogue, “I just look at your hands a lot.”

Astarion’s finger slips and he pierces himself with the needle. He winces slightly as he withdraws the sliver from his hand.

“I— what?” He asks, pausing his work to assess you with wide, blinking eyes.

You hadn’t meant to say that last part aloud. You’d been entranced and disarmed by the steady rhythm of his hands and the smell of Astarion’s freshly washed skin.

He’d started a new bar of soap today. You could tell because he smelled different when he returned from the river. You’d complimented the new fragrance and he’d stared at you for a moment too long, eyebrows furrowed. You worried you’d somehow offended him. And then he laughed and made some innuendo-filled joke about cleanliness being next to godliness.

He’s waiting for you to respond, the metal sliver of a needle held at rest between his thumb and forefinger.

“I…” You start, and you feel a blush creep across your face, “You have pretty hands.”

You finish the statement lamely and with a small shrug.

One, two, three beats of silence.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes are staring into your own; he’s thinking… deeply.

Before you process what’s happening, the rogue has already abandoned his project in the dirt and brought both his hands to cup your face, plunging forward to press a kiss against your lips. His tongue slides into your mouth, urgently dancing against your own.

You two hadn’t been physical since the night of the Tiefling party. He hadn’t propositioned you again, and you were far too nervous to attempt propositioning him. You are entirely caught off guard by his advances but eagerly receive his affections anyway.

When Astarion finally breaks away from you, his face is hot. He knows it isn’t the tea this time.

He wants to show you what else he can do with his pretty hands.

[sebscore]

THE GRID'S DELIGHT | SERIES MASTERLIST

summary: the shenanigans of female gen z driver and the formula one grid.

author’s note: I started this series, because I'd like to imagine what it would be like to be part of the group of drivers and how it would be like to interact with them on a regular basis. It's all fun and games, and I don't know these people in real life. everything is fiction! the stories aren't written in chronological order, but I try to put them in the right order below! 

Requests are always welcome in my inbox! Opinions, thoughts and feedback are also greatly appreciated.

— ABOUT THE OC

HEADCANONS || MORE HEADCANONS

:: Things about being the only female driver on the ‘22 grid.

DRIVER X TGD HEADCANONS

:: The dynamics between driver!reader and the formula 1 drivers. in the link you can find the masterlist.

EXTRAS

:: this includes thoughts, opinions, etc about the series. it doesn’t include requests.

— 2018

WELCOME TO THE STRANGE WORLD 

:: Y/N makes her F1 debut at the 2018 Australian Grand Prix. 

THE PRIZE THAT KEEPS ON GIVING

:: Y/N accepts the 'Rookie of the Year' award and receives a suprise from a special someone on stage.

— 2020 

TWITCH WAR

:: lando insults Y/N’s gaming skills and the events that followed.

PLEASE RISE FOR THE NATIONAL ANTHEM

:: An error in the sound system causes for the wrong song to play instead of Y/N’s national anthem.

— 2021 

THE MORE YOU KNOW

:: Y/N teaches Sebastian and Fernando what ‘bop’ means.

NO ONE LIKES A MAD WOMAN

:: Y/N receives a complaint from the FIA during the driver's briefing and no one is happy about it.

BREAK UP WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND, I'M BORED 

:: Y/N flirts with a stranger not knowing she's the girlfriend of another F1 driver on the grid. 

THIS IS ALL I NEVER WANTED

:: Y/N goes through a rough patch and the drivers notice.

LET IT SPIRAL

:: Y/N gets into a crash and Seb & George come to the rescue.

SLOW DOWN, RED FLAG

:: The commentators are shocked by Y/N’s red flag habit.

BE YOUR WINGMAN

:: Y/N tries to get through an interview with Jenson, Daniel and Sebastian. 

GIDDY GOODBYES

:: Y/N and Kimi bid each other goodbye at the 2021 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix.

— 2022

A MAN’S WORLD

:: Y/N is asked about Christian Horner’s sexist comments.

THE ORIGIN OF RUSSY BUSSY

:: the title is pretty self-explanatory.

WHAT HAPPENS IN MONACO, STAYS IN MONACO

:: Y/N goes on a blind date and returns with a hickey the next day.

THE HELMET BET

:: Y/N and Zhou decide who the second best dressed driver on the grid is through a bet that involves holding the other drivers hostage at the driver's briefing.

GOSSIP GRID

:: Charles and Pierre don't trust Y/N when it comes to rumors around Oscar Piastri's move to McLaren.

RUMOUR HAS IT

:: Y/N and her fellow younger drivers react to certain rumours that have been going around about her love life, and it might include two colleagues of hers.

MONZA MANICURE

:: Daniel makes it up to Y/N for breaking her nail during a race.

LITTLE MISS BLACK DRESS

:: f1 drivers and their reactions to Y/N looking gorgeous in a dress.

KEEPING UP WITH THE GRID

:: What happens when Y/N takes over Martin's grid walk? 

THE LAST SUPPER

:: The drivers celebrate the life and career of Sebastian Vettel at Abu Dhabi and Y/N has a great story to tell.

— 2023 

INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY 

:: Daniel, Lewis and Sebastian show their appreciation for Y/N on International Women's Day. 

GLASS HALF FULL KINDA GAL

:: Y/N goes on Instagram live to try out Daniel’s new wine, and the drivers react to it in the comments.

MONTE-CARLO MADNESS

:: Y/N meets her old mentor after months and experiences a chaotic qualifying in Monaco.

PUT IT INTO SPEED DRIVE

:: Y/N and the Twitch Quartet go on a small adventure in the streets of Monaco.

SNITCHES GET STITCHES

:: A collection of moments at the 2023 Austria Grand Prix.

LATE NIGHT TALKING

:: Pierre asks the question: “Out of all the drivers, who would you date?”

— 2024

EXCUSE ME

:: Y/N finds out about Lewis’ Ferrari move before the official announcement.

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS

:: Lando ends Y/N’s race, and they have different perspectives on how it transpired.

[prentissluvr]

cabin, 3:17 a.m. — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, injury, mention of stitches, 658 words. requested ! for my 800 followers event [ closed ] .

summary : a hunt goes badly, but sam patches you up and loves on you until you can finally get some good rest.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

sam can barely open the cabin door with one hand. the lock is temperamental, and the key likes to pretend it doesn’t fit. but his other arm is keeping you from collapsing right then and there, so he has to manage like this.

finally, the door swings open with a frantic push from sam, the hinges of the old place in the woods protesting the movement with loud squeaks and groans. but he couldn’t care less about the poor state of the structure; it’s a damn miracle you were so close to one of his safehouses after getting injured like this.

“we’re here, we’re here. i got you, okay. alright, honey. you’re alright,” sam’s voice is steady and sure, but the way that assurances tumble out of his mouth tells you that he’s worried. he’s scared.

he thinks you’ll be fine. he really does, but he can’t help but feel so terrified that you won’t. it’s just that you have such a high pain tolerance after years of getting hurt all the time, but the gash in your side is pulling pained grunts and whimpers from your mouth. your head lolls on his shoulder, and there’s not a hospital close enough. he has to treat you first.

part of him prefers it; to be the one that takes care of you, the one that fixes it for you. but he knows he’s not nearly as good as a trained doctor, and that worries him.

that can’t matter now, though, as he shuts the door and locks it, then leads your stumbling form to the couch. strong arms settle you into the cushions, which kicks up a little bit of dust and makes you cough weakly.

“god, sorry, love,” he mumbles worriedly, voice plainly guilty and always so sincere. the coughing makes you wince in pain, and sam’s distress over your injury is raw and intense. all you do is grab his hand and squeeze it. he looks to your face, gaze landing on your eyes like he knows you want. all he finds is love there, a silent plea for him not to feel so sorry. your furrowed brows and downturned lips show the pain you’re in. but the look in your eyes spells out the words i love you.

“i love you, too,” he says, the words slipping from his lips without him intending it. one side of your lips quirks up. 

talking is tiring. you’re so tired, and you’re not sure why this cut is different from all the other injuries you’ve received to get you so vulnerable and weak. but to you, it’s fine, because sam is taking care of it. you know that sam will take care of it, you just hate how much this pains and scares him. so that’s why you push through the effort of speaking.

“it’s okay, sam,” you grunt out. god, it really hurts. it hurts to breathe, even. sam can see that. and he can see that you don’t like to watch him feel so worried. he puts on his brave face again.

“yeah, it’s okay,” he assures you. “i’m gonna take care of this. gonna take care of you, so you just stay awake for me, alright, honey?”

it works. his comforting words work. you relax a little, you believe in the brave front. you keep your eyes on him, and you nod. you squeeze his bicep when the antiseptic burns, you grunt in pain and grip his shoulder when the stitches make you feel woozy. you let go and lose your own brave face, because sam is there. 

because he hushes you sweetly, he murmurs soft assurances, and he holds your hand with tender love. because he dabs sweat from your brow and bandages you up, then carries you to bed. because he kisses your cheek and your lips and your forehead and fixes you right up. or most simply put, because he loves you.

[unabashegirl]

entangled 2 | one shot

Y/N, punished by her gang leader for a failed mission, meets Harry, a rival gang member, at a club. Their encounter turns intense and passionate.

Author's note: Hello everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful weekend. Here is the second part of entangled as promised. I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think!

warnings: violence, smut, cursing and more

check out my patreon and get full access to more ONE SHOTS and much more :) thank you beforehand!

if you would like to leave or summit your request for the next one shot. do it here :)

word count: 4K

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The men winced as Y/N stood in the middle of the room with Victor. She grunted as she was thrown to the floor.

“Get up!” he yelled, watching her clutch her abdomen in pain. They had just returned from the failed mission Victor had assigned them, and he had heard of her defeat. His fury was palpable.

Victor's eyes blazed with fury as he glared down at Y/N. "You think you can just fail me and walk away unscathed?" he snarled, his voice echoing through the room. The other gang members watched in tense silence, understanding the gravity of the situation.

Y/N gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand despite the pain radiating through her body. She met Victor's gaze with a steely resolve, refusing to show any further weakness.

Victor advanced on her, his expression cold and unrelenting. "You made us look weak, Y/N. You have jeopardized everything we've built." He grabbed her by the collar, lifting her slightly off the ground. "You need to understand the consequences of failure."

With a swift motion, he threw her back to the floor. "Watch closely, all of you!" he shouted to the gathered men and women. "This is what happens when you fail me. When you fail us."

Y/N struggled to her feet once more, the taste of blood in her mouth. She knew Victor was making an example out of her, but she also knew she had to endure it. For her sister, for her people. She wouldn't let this break her.

Victor stepped back, his glare sweeping over the room. "Remember this moment," he warned. "Next time, it could be one of you."

He turned his attention back to Y/N, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "Prove to me that you still belong here, or you'll wish you hadn't survived tonight."

Y/N nodded, her resolve hardening. She wouldn't let Victor's brutal lesson go unheeded. She would prove herself again, no matter the cost. The fire of determination burned within her, stronger than ever.

“Let’s get you some help,” Xavier, Y/N’s close friend, said as he helped her to her feet. He had feared for her life; it wouldn’t have been the first time Victor had killed someone using these brutal humiliation tactics.

“That’s the last thing I need,” Y/N muttered, wincing in pain. “I need a drink and a smoke.”

Xavier laughed, despite his worry, and guided her to the medic at the warehouse. Her arm was drenched in blood, the wound gaping and worsening with every movement. “First, let’s get you stitched up,” he said firmly. “Then you can have all the drinks and smokes you want.”

As they reached the small, makeshift infirmary in the corner of the warehouse, the medic looked up from his supplies and quickly assessed Y/N's condition. "Get her on the table," he instructed, already reaching for his tools.

Xavier helped Y/N onto the metal table, his grip gentle but firm. "Just hang in there," he said quietly. "You’ll be patched up in no time."

Y/N gritted her teeth against the pain as the medic began to clean the wound. The sting of the antiseptic was sharp, but she welcomed it, letting the physical pain ground her against the emotional turmoil of the night. She glanced at Xavier, who hovered nearby, his concern evident.

"You worry too much," she said, trying to force a smile through the pain.

Xavier shook his head. "Someone has to. Victor’s gone too far this time. He needs to see that you're valuable, not disposable."

The medic worked quickly, his practiced hands stitching the gash with precision. "She’ll be fine," he said gruffly. "But she needs rest. And try to keep her out of fights for a few days, if that’s possible. She has quite a few broken ribs and that eye and eyebrow need desperate help. Another punch could do some serious damage to her optical nerve”.

Y/N snorted at that. “Not likely,” she muttered.

Xavier frowned but didn’t argue. He knew Y/N too well; once her mind was set, there was no changing it. "Just promise me you’ll be more careful," he said.

Y/N nodded, her expression hardening. “I’ll try my best”

The medic finished the last stitch and wrapped her arm in a clean bandage. "All done. Now get out of here and try not to tear any of those stitches.”

Xavier helped her off the table, his arm steadying her. "Come on, let’s get that drink and smoke you wanted."

Y/N wasn’t sure how they ended up at a club, but there they were.

The club was a sensory overload, a stark contrast to the grim reality of the warehouse. Neon lights pulsed in time with the throbbing bass of the music, casting vibrant hues of pink and blue across the packed room. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and perfume, mingling with the sharp tang of alcohol.

The dance floor was a sea of bodies moving in sync with the rhythm, a chaotic yet rhythmic ballet of movement and sound. People shouted to be heard over the pounding beats, their voices blending into a cacophony that filled every corner of the space. The flashing strobe lights cut through the darkness intermittently, illuminating faces twisted in ecstasy and exhaustion.

Y/N and Xavier navigated their way through the crowd, the press of bodies making it difficult to move. The noise was almost overwhelming, but it provided a welcome distraction from the pain and tension of the night. They finally reached the bar, where Xavier signaled for drinks. The bartender, a harried figure behind a cluttered counter, quickly poured their orders.

As Y/N took a deep breath, she allowed herself a moment of respite. The pulsating energy of the club was a stark contrast to the cold, calculating environment of Victor’s warehouse. Here, amid the flashing lights and relentless music, she could temporarily forget the pressures of the gang war.

Xavier handed her a drink, his expression a mix of relief and concern. “You’ve earned this,” he said, raising his glass in a half-hearted toast.

Y/N nodded, taking a long sip of her drink. The alcohol burned pleasantly as it slid down her throat, warming her from the inside. She looked around at the throngs of people, their carefree revelry a reminder of a world that seemed almost foreign to her now.

For a moment, Y/N allowed herself to be swept up in the rhythm of the night, embracing the fleeting sense of normalcy and freedom.

“Come on!” Xavier called to Y/N, snapping her out of her trance as he grabbed her arm. The sudden jolt brought her back to the present, the music and lights of the club crashing over her senses once more. “A few of my friends are upstairs,” he added, nodding toward the VIP area, which was clearly off-limits to most.

Y/N hesitated, her eyes widening in surprise. “Are you kidding? I don’t have that kind of money!” she shouted over the deafening music, dodging dancers who seemed oblivious to the world outside their own revelry.

Xavier laughed, his grip on her arm firm but reassuring. “Am I asking you for money?” he yelled back, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I’m friends with the security!”

He led her through the throng of people, expertly weaving through the chaotic dance floor. The crowd parted briefly, giving Y/N a glimpse of the VIP area: plush seating, subdued lighting, and an air of exclusivity that seemed worlds away from the frenetic energy below. She could see well-dressed patrons lounging with an air of nonchalance, their laughter and conversation barely audible over the pulsating music.

As they approached the velvet rope, a burly security guard stepped forward, his expression stern. But as soon as he saw Xavier, his face broke into a friendly smile. “Hey, Xavier! Long time no see,” he said, unclipping the rope and waving them through.

Y/N followed Xavier up the narrow staircase to the VIP section, her curiosity piqued. The change in atmosphere was immediate. The pounding bass was still present, but it was muted, allowing for easier conversation. The decor was upscale, with sleek furniture and soft, ambient lighting creating an intimate setting.

Xavier led her to a secluded booth where a few of his friends were already gathered, chatting and laughing. They greeted Xavier warmly, their eyes flickering with curiosity as they took in Y/N.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Xavier introduced her with a casual wave. “She’s with me.”

One of Xavier’s friends, a stylish woman with striking features, extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Emily.”

Y/N shook Emily’s hand, feeling a bit out of place but grateful for the warmth of the reception. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Make yourself comfortable,” Emily said, gesturing to the plush seats. “What can I get you to drink?”

As Y/N settled into the luxurious booth, she scanned the faces of Xavier's friends. Her breath caught in her throat when she recognized one of them: Harry. He lounged comfortably, his sharp eyes locking onto hers the moment she saw him. The air between them seemed to crackle with unresolved tension.

“Harry,” she breathed, her voice barely audible over the muted music.

Xavier, noticing her shock, chuckled. “Yeah, I probably should have mentioned that. Harry and I go way back. Long before all this gang nonsense.”

Y/N’s mind raced, struggling to reconcile this unexpected revelation. How could Xavier, her close friend and ally, be friends with her sworn enemy? The man who had nearly killed her not long ago?

Harry leaned forward, a smug smile playing on his lips. “Surprised to see me here, Y/N?”

Xavier, sensing the rising tension, quickly intervened. “Look, I know this is weird. But we try to keep the whole gang thing outside of here. We’re just here to unwind”.

Harry’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes remained cold. “A temporary truce, if you will.”

Y/N’s mind was still reeling, but she knew she had to play along for now. She couldn’t afford to cause a scene, not in this setting, and certainly not with Xavier’s connections potentially at risk.

Y/N nodded, a gesture that caught Harry off guard. He had always seen her as a strict rule follower, someone who never defied orders or went against Victor's commands. This unexpected side of her piqued his interest and made him reassess his assumptions.

Emily, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. “What’s your poison?”

Y/N tore her gaze away from Harry, focusing on Emily with a forced smile. “Whiskey, neat.”

As Emily signaled the waiter, Y/N couldn’t help but glance back at Harry. The look in his eyes was a mixture of amusement and challenge. She knew this night had just become far more complicated than she had anticipated.

As the drinks arrived, Xavier leaned in, his voice low. “Just try to relax. We are just people here, trying to forget all the shit we do outside for a few hours.”

The club's music thumped steadily in the background, creating a heavy rhythm that seemed to sync with Y/N's racing heartbeat. Neon lights flashed in sync with the beat, casting alternating shadows and bursts of color across the dance floor. Feeling the need to escape the intensity of her thoughts, Y/N made her way to the center of the crowd and began to dance. Her movements were fluid, confident, and for a moment, she allowed herself to get lost in the music, the energy of the club enveloping her.

From his vantage point, Harry watched her with a mixture of surprise and admiration. He had never seen this side of her before, and it intrigued him. As she moved, completely absorbed in the rhythm, Harry felt an irresistible pull. He made his way through the throng of people, closing the distance between them.

“You’re full of surprises tonight,” Harry murmured as he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her ear.

Y/N smirked, not giving him the satisfaction of a straightforward answer. “You don’t know half of it,” she replied, her eyes glittering with challenge.

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Care to enlighten me?”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “And give you more ammunition? I don’t think so, Styles.”

He leaned in even closer, their faces just inches apart. “I don’t need ammunition, Y/N. I know what makes you tick.”

She felt a shiver run down her spine, a mix of annoyance and undeniable attraction. “Nice try,” she said, her voice steady despite the proximity. “But you’ll have to work harder than that.”

Harry’s lips curved into a sly smile. “I like a challenge.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “You’ve got your work cut out for you then.”

He chuckled, the sound low and intimate in her ear. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They sipped their drinks, the moment stretching between them, charged with a tension that was as much about attraction as it was about rivalry. Y/N could feel the heat of Harry’s gaze on her, a weight that was hard to ignore.

“So, tell me,” she said, turning the tables. “What’s it like being the big bad boss now? Enjoying the power trip?”

Harry’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes darkened slightly. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Too many people to keep in line, too many responsibilities.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow, leaning closer to him. “Having second thoughts?”

He shook his head. “Not a chance. Just stating the facts.”

Y/N leaned even closer, her breath warm against his ear. “Admit it, Styles. You love the control.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh. You have no idea” he smirked. “I bet you enjoy it too”

She laughed, the sound almost lost in the thumping music. “Oh, I don’t need power to make an impression. I can do that just fine without it.”

Harry’s smile widened, a hint of admiration in his gaze. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

Y/N tilted her head, her eyes locked on his. “How are you keeping everyone in line?”

Harry shrugged, his expression nonchalant. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Care to share any of those tricks?” she teased, her fingers lightly brushing against his arm.

He chuckled, the sound low and intimate. “why would I give away my secrets to the enemy?”

“Maybe because the enemy is more fun than you expected,” she shot back, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Harry’s gaze softened, the intensity between them growing. “Then I’d rather show you than tell you”.

Harry grabbed Y/N’s hand. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she followed him as he navigated through the dense crowd, leading her toward the back of the club where the bathrooms were located.

The music grew slightly muffled as they moved away from the main floor. Harry glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression unreadable, but his grip on her hand was firm and urgent. They reached the bathroom, and without hesitation, he pushed the door open and dragged her inside.

The fluorescent lights flickered slightly, casting an unflattering glow over the white tiles. The hum of the club was still audible but muted, providing a strange, almost surreal backdrop. Before Y/N could react, he pushed her into one of the stalls and followed, locking the door behind them. The cramped space forced them into close proximity, their breaths mingling in the confined air.

“What the hell, Harry?” she demanded, trying to keep her voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart.

Without a word, Harry cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, the motion filled with urgency and hunger. His lips moved against hers with a passion that took her breath away, the heat of the moment overwhelming her senses.

For a moment, Y/N was too stunned to respond, but then she gave in, kissing him back with equal fervor. Her hands gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as if she couldn’t get enough. The kiss was a clash of dominance and desire, both of them battling for control even in this moment of vulnerability.

Harry’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her against him as the kiss deepened. The intensity of their connection was undeniable, a force that neither of them could resist. They broke apart only when the need for air became too great.

She pushed Harry back, catching him off guard. He stumbled slightly, and she guided him to sit on the toilet cover. The starkness of the environment made the moment even more intense.

Without giving herself a chance to reconsider, she straddled him, her knees pressing into the hard plastic seat on either side of his thighs. Their faces were inches apart, breaths mingling as the heat between them became almost unbearable.

Harry’s hands found her waist, gripping tightly as he looked up at her, a mixture of surprise and desire in his eyes. “Keep those eyes on me” His voice was low, almost a growl.

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she leaned in, capturing his lips in a fierce, urgent kiss. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as she moved against him, their bodies fitting together in a way that felt both foreign and inevitable.

Harry responded with equal intensity, his hands roaming over her back, pulling her even closer. The kiss was a clash of tongues and teeth, a battle for dominance that neither was willing to concede. The small confines of the stall faded away, leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection between them.

Y/N pulled away from the kiss, gasping for breath as Harry's hands moved with a newfound urgency. His fingers worked deftly to pull her t-shirt over her head and unclasp her bra. With the dim light from the flickering bathroom bulb now illuminating her body, Harry’s gaze fell upon the injuries she had tried so hard to hide.

Her torso was marred with bruises, deep and angry against her pale skin, and the fresh stitches were starkly visible against the bruised flesh. The sight of her injuries made Harry’s breath catch in his throat, his expression shifting from intense desire to concern and anger.

He gently placed his hands on her sides, his touch light but filled with an undeniable sense of worry.

“Are you in pain?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. His eyes searched hers, hoping to see something that would reassure him, but all he found was a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

Y/N shook her head, a smirk playing at her lips. “You talk too much. How about we put that mouth of yours to better use?”

Harry’s eyes flared with renewed intensity, a spark of desire reigniting within him. He was acutely aware that he hadn't caused the severe injuries she bore—he’d wounded her, but never touched her face or broken any ribs. Despite the lingering concerns, he pushed them aside, driven by an urgent need. He had to have her, and nothing else mattered at that moment.

Harry's lips roamed over her jawline and neck, pressing rough, demanding kisses that left no room for gentleness. Y/N took Harry’s hand and guided it firmly to her throat, her eyes locking onto his with a mix of challenge and submission. She arched her neck slightly, giving him full access, her breath coming in shallow, anticipatory gasps.

Harry leaned in, his breath warm against her skin as he whispered, “You look even better with my hands around your neck.” He then shifted, pulling himself free and beginning to touch himself, preparing herself for her.

Harry slipped her underwear to the side, exposing her wet self to him that made his mouth water. He didn’t have the time to fulfill all his fantasies, but he vowed this wouldn’t be their first and last encounter. He was determined to have her again.

Harry slammed her down on him. His hand still gripping her throat whilst his right tightened on her hip, anchoring her in place. Y/N hand grabbed the top of the stall, helping her to lift herself off his cock. Harry grunted into her ear, the sensation was too intense.

“Y’are squeezin’ me. S’tight” Harry groaned, pushing her down on him harder. The stall creaked as the rhythm grew faster and more intense. Harry’s grip on her throat tightened, briefly cutting off her air supply.

“Don’t stop. Even if I beg you to” Y/N moaned as Harry’s hand came off her throat and tangled with her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, and sweat slicked her hair and back, making her even more irresistible in Harry’s eyes.

“Come on. Cum f’me” Harry grunted feeling himself nearing his orgasm He speed up, pounding into her. Y/N shut down her eyes as her back arched and her hips met with his. Her orgasm sent a wave of great pleasure through her. “Just a good girl” he said to her just as she felt him release himself inside of her.

Y/N allowed herself to rest her shaking body on his as they both recovered. As Harry’s hand caressed her back, he reflected on everything that had just transpired. Y/N sat up slowly, her movements deliberate as she began to dress herself again. Harry watched her intently, his gaze fixed on her every motion. The silence between them was heavy, filled with the weight of unspoken words and lingering tension.

Harry’s eyes followed Y/N as she dressed, his expression serious and unyielding. “Tell me again,” he said, his tone firm, “who hurt you?”

His gaze was intense, demanding an answer as he awaited her response.

Y/N paused, her fingers hesitating on the buttons of her shirt. The weight of Harry's question hung heavily in the air, mingling with the aftereffects of their encounter. She met his gaze, seeing the genuine concern in his eyes despite the hardened exterior.

“It’s not of your concern” She said quietly, her voice steady but edge with defiance. “I can handle it”.

Harry’s expression didn’t soften. “You are now my concern”.

She finished fastening her shirt, her movements deliberate, and then looked back at him. “You’re not going to get anything out of me,” she said, her tone resolute. “I deal with my own problems.”

Harry’s jaw clenched, frustration evident in his features. “You think I’m going to let this go?” Harry’s eyes narrowed as he watched Y/N silently prepare to leave. “Is it Victor?” he asked, his tone sharp and demanding.

Y/N’s silence was her answer, and Harry’s frustration flared. “If I can’t do anything else,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “then tell him that the next time he touches you, I’ll cut his fucking arm off.”

Before she could respond, Harry pulled her into a bruising kiss, his lips fierce and possessive. The kiss was filled with a raw intensity, leaving no room for doubt about his feelings. He broke away abruptly, his gaze intense and unwavering. “We do terrible things for the people we love”. he said, his voice a harsh whisper.

With that, he turned on his heel and left, the door slamming behind him as Y/N stood there, her heart pounding and her mind reeling from the confrontation.

Part 1

[clockwayswrites]

Bury the Years: A Desperate Call

WC: 1880, Masterpost CW: blood, mentions of hallucinations, depression, Jason's death and *waves at everything that means*: buried alive, canon typical violence, etc

Dick rolled over in his bed, dragging the cover up over his head with a groan. There was something sticky on the sheet. Blood, he was sure. Last night… last night had been a rough one. Maybe he should have patched himself up a little better before he had crashed in bed, but butterfly bandages had been all he had the energy for. So much for them holding through sleep.

To top it off, his damn phone was going off.

Why had he picked such an annoying ringtone again?

Right, no, Wally had changed it last time he had seen him in… in way too long now. How had it been so long since he had seen any of the Titans? He should fix that. Maybe after he was healed. They’d just look at him with those big sad eyes they always seemed to have for him these days if he showed up like this.

The phone was still ringing.

Hopefully whoever it was would give up soon or go to voicemail and he could get back to sleep. He knew he should get up and deal with whatever wound had opened up, but he was just so damn tired. He didn’t want to get out of bed. If he got out of bed he would have to clean his wound and if he was cleaning his room he would have to shower and if he was going to shower he should do laundry first so he had clean clothing but he shouldn’t do laundry without his wound fixed up. In short, getting out of bed meant having to do everything— having to face everything. It was much nicer in his sheets, even if they were a little sticky with blood.

The ringing stopped.

Dick let out a soft breath of air and tucked his face a little further into his pillow.

The phone started ringing again. Dick cursed, threw the sheet off of him, and grabbed the phone.

“What?” he snapped.

“Dick?”

No.

No it couldn’t be. He had… the hallucinations had gotten better. And they had never used the phone before. They were always just there. But it… this was… it sounded like…

“Dick? Are… are you there?”

It sounded like…

“Jay?” his voice cracked around the name, around his name. It sounded like Jason, his little brother, the one he had failed.

“Dick,” Jay said, own voice not doing any better. There was something else to it. It sounded deeper and rougher but Dick still knew it. That was still his little brother. “Dick, I… please… I need… I need your help. I can’t save him alone. I need you, Big Bird.”

“Where are you?” Dick asked. He stumbled over discarded escrima sticks and clothing in his rush to the bathroom. His hands shook as he dug around in the first aid kit for some fresh gauze. He could stitch it up later, he had to get to Jay.

“Crime Alley, where else,” Jason said with a bitter laugh that made Dick fumble the box he was holding. Oh how it hurt to hear his little wing laugh like that! Oh how it was so amazing to hear his little wing laugh again, even if it sounded like the laugh was clawing its way out of Jay’s chest. No matter how ugly the sound it was still laughter pushed out by air by lungs by a beating heart. How— “I’m at 3405 Dawson Rd. It’s a… I don’t know, used to be an office building or some shit, but it’s abandoned now. I’m up on the third floor. You have to get in from the outside. Back window is best.”

“Okay. Okay. Can… can you stay on the phone until I get there, okay?” Dick asked, no, pleaded. He couldn’t hang up. If he hung up all of this might not be real and Jay might be gone and Dick… he couldn’t go through that again.

He needed this to be real.

“I, yeah, yeah, sure, I can,” Jason said. There was noise on his side of the call, the rusting of that cheap sort of nylon material.

“Do you… do you need me to bring anything?” Dick asked, hopping towards the door as he dragged on underwear and then jeans that were clean enough. He tugged a shirt on then back off and rushed back to the bathroom to actually stick a new wad of gauze onto his side.

“Yes, no, just… just get here first?”

“Okay, yeah, of course, I’ll be there. I’m heading out of my door right now,” Dick said as he grabbed another shirt from the back of the couch and tugged it on over his head. He dug around for a comm, transferred the call to it, and stuck it in his ear. “You still there Little Wing?”

“Still here.” There was that laugh again that made Dick’s soul soar and sob in equal measure.

“Okay. I’ve got you in my ear now. I’m going to be over as quick as I can. Just… how about you keep talking to me.”

“’Bout what?” Jason rasped.

“Let’s start with a status report, okay? Are you injured?”

Are you still beaten to a pulp?

Is your head still smashed in?

Are you still broken?

“No. I haven’t been injured for… since… no. Just my palms a little scraped up from climbing in and out of this place, didn’t even bleed.”

“Okay.” That was… That was a relief. That was a good start. “You… you said you needed my help to save him? Can you tell me what’s going on with him?”

“Can… can that wait till you’re here?”

“Yeah, okay, sure Little Wing. What do you want to talk about instead?”

“Can you… that’s. Um… I don’t know? How… how about you tell me about Gotham? I guess. Not, I can’t do the family yet. Just… just tell me about the city.”

“Okay, well, let me tell you about the Gotham Knights last season.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse. Way worse,” Dick said and filled the line with worthless, mindless chatter as he raced towards the address that Jason had given him.

-

The building really did look abandoned. There wasn’t all that much too it anymore. The bottom floor was completely boarded up, but the barricade had been pried away over time. The insides were looted, obviously lived in once, and currently full of trash and mold and all the nasty grime of Gotham. It looked like the stairs were out. That must have been why Jason chose it; not many people could scale up three stories on a mostly gone fire escape.

Dick decided to go up the neighboring building and jump over. “You’re making me get my cardio in today, huh?”

“As if that will get your heart rate up.”

“Yeah, yeah. Become a super skilled gymnast before hitting the double digits and people think you can do everything.”

Jason’s snort buzzed across the line. “Can’t you do everything?”

“I couldn’t save you.” Dick hit the rusted fire escape with a clang. He was half worried Jason had hung up on him. Fuck he shouldn’t have said that. No, he could faintly hear Jason softly reassuring someone. “I’m at the window, can I come in?”

“…yeah. We’re on the room to the right. Just… go slowly, okay?”

“Okay. It’s just me, I’m alone. I’m going through the window now,” Dick said. He slid up the old frame carefully, searching his fingers along it to undo some classic Bat booby traps as he lifted it. Sometimes you really didn’t need more than some thread and something noisy like an empty can.

“Can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Not when I’m the one who made the tricks,” Dick said.

The door was right there.

It was already open.

He took a breath and walked through.

That… that was really Jason. Alive. Alive and grown up, big as a tank, but Dick would know those expressive eyes anywhere, that slightly crooked slope of the nose, that furrowed brow. Jason was so big and so grown up, but still just a kid, hardly an adult at only nineteen. He was sitting on a pile of sleeping bags and ratty blankets on the floor with another kid his age curled up on his lap; a kid that looked like a touch would shatter him.

Dick crouched down, keeping his hands visible as he was very aware of another set of blue-green eyes watching him.

“Hey, Jay,” he said after clearing his throat.

God he wanted to rush over there and pull Jason into his arms. He wanted to touch, to have that last bit of assurance that this was real.

“Hey, Dick,” Jason said, the words echoing through the earpiece before Jason ended the call.

Jason let the phone fall, like he couldn’t hold up his arm any longer. It thumped loudly as it hit the sleeping bags and the guy in Jason’s lap flinched so hard that Dick was worried he had hurt something.

“Sorry, sorry lily-loo. Didn’t mean to let it fall that hard,” Jason said. He raised his arm (it looked like it weighed a million pounds) and carded gentle fingers through the other’s messy black and white hair.

Black and white just like Jason’s was, only all of the stranger’s white was on the lower part, like an under dye. Jason’s was right at his hairline, just slightly off center. Dick’s eyes flicked between the two.

“This is just my brother,” Jason murmured. “I told you about him, remember? Dick? He won’t hurt you. He’s going to help us.”

“That’s right,” Dick said in a soft tone. He crept a few feet closer before he fluidly folded his legs under him and took a seat on the grimy floor. “I’m here to help. I’d do anything for my brother.”

“Yeah,” Jason croaked after a moment. He took a shuddering breath and pressed a kiss to the other guy’s temple. “Yeah.”

“I mean it, Jay. What do you need? Other than, you know… the obvious?” Dick said as he motioned to the room around them.

Jason laughed that bitter laugh again. “Mostly… mostly the obvious to start. Somewhere safe to be. Something better to sleep on. Food. Food is the most important. Pillbug here… he’s not doing well. I’ve been trying to get his weight up, but I just can’t… I can’t do enough or do it fast enough. He doesn’t like it when I leave, but I’m afraid to take him out there…”

“Okay, okay Jay. We can work on all of that. Malnourished then? And hand injuries?” Dick asked, glancing over the bandaged fingers. “What else? What happened to him, little wing?”

What happened to you, Dick wanted to ask.

Jason glanced back up at Dick. His eyes were greener than before, Dick swore it. It couldn’t just be the lighting. Jason’s green gaze seemed to pin him to the spot, not that Dick was going anywhere, not with Jason back. He wouldn’t leave his little brother when he needed him again.

“He was alive, Dick. He was alive inside his own coffin. He was alive and screaming and trying to claw his way out of it… just like I did.”

---

AN: So! You all voted for me to make you cry. And it's Trauma Tuesday! Not sure if I managed it, but hopefully at least tugged at some heart strings! This whole fic is an OOF, ngl.

Not sure if this will be how it starts or if it starts with Jason visiting the graveyard he was buried in, freshly back to Gotham, and hearing screaming. :3 I'll have to see when I can next get back to it! Which likely won't be quickly, having a really hard time of it with my hands right at the moment. Stay delightful, darlings!

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe on the master post. I don't know when this one will next be updated! This was a Trauma Tuesday Special.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Astray far away. Ch.2

Adar x reader | ch.1 - ch.3

You spent your first day in the Uruk village

Meet Grasho the clothes maker, she's a fun one!

WC:2.5k

It was morning again when you woke up.

Or, at least you thought it was morning. It was difficult to tell time with the sun blocked, but the noise outside made it clear you slept longer than everyone else. 

You laid in a house only partially damaged. The first thing in your view was a neatly folded set of clothes and a pitcher of water, along with small fruits as well. 

You ate in silence and got dressed, learning the clothes consisted of uniform pants the attacking troops wore, and a black cotton tunic, too large for your frame.

The pants had some repairs done on them, the front and back of one thigh had messily stitched closed holes that were clearly from an arrow, and light discoloration was still visible around the patches. The embroidery on the side showed they belonged to the attacking troops, so had Adar truly sent someone to take these off a fallen soldier and get them ready for you? 

As you pulled down the tunic over your body you grazed a sore spot on your ribcage, wincing and recalling the night before when Adar's clawed glove had carved your skin. 

You pulled one arm free from the garment and threw it over your shoulder to try and inspect the area, pulling aside your breast to be able to see.

To see dried cuts, upside down to your current view you needed a moment to figure out what it said and pull down the tunic in a quick motion as you realized.

ADAR sat in raised cuts, soon to be scarred into your flesh for your remaining days.

Once dressed you set out into the area, shocked when you stepped outside and saw the change already made to what was once a torn down village. 

An Uruk walked past, just as you stepped outside, he sniffed at you and a wide toothy grin appeared on his face. There were more all over, giving you similar looks. One even offered you roasted meat. "You gotta eat." He offered, staring down at you before moving on without another word

"They did all of this in a couple of hours?" You wandered off to where other townsfolk worked. 

They met you with confused looks. “Hours?” Their voices sounded in disbelief. “You slept through the entirety of yesterday.” Another one scoffed. “Orcs guarded the damn door, even.” 

It was clear they weren’t amused with how differently you were treated.

“Get back to work, you!” An Uruk shouted from behind you, his hand ending on your shoulder. “Lord Father wants to see you, come on.”

Following the Uruk through the newly built town you took the chance to look around, seeing a whole tribe working and living.

When you rounded the last corner you spotted Adar, his attention towards a wrapped up bundle in an Uruk’s arms. 

“Lord Father, I brought ‘er.” The Uruk who escorted you placed you in front of himself, earning the Lord Father’s attention. He thanked him and sent him off again, waving you over to join his side where he stood. The Uruks at Adar’s side looked you up and down, so much it gave you chills. It was until you got close enough and they could sniff you out. To all the Uruks, the second you were in reach you were suddenly a friend. 

Adar took a step aside for you to be introduced to Glûg, his second in command, and Glûg’s family. The mother offered you a peek at her child and made conversation while Adar and Glûg spoke off to the side in a tongue you did not speak.

You stared, perhaps a bit too long but you couldn’t help it. You had never seen many Uruks before in your lifetime, let alone a newborn.

“Are you feeling well, child? You slept for quite a while.” Adar came and took you aside, speaking to you softly, wanting to keep the attention off you in case you felt under the weather.

“Just my ribs, the cuts burn pretty badly..” you held your arms, suddenly self conscious about that night and your activities. The nasty glares from your fellow Southlanders did not help at all either. 

“Come. I’ll tend to your wounds.” Adar led you away to his private quarters. “I’m the cause of them, after all.” He added under his breath, just for you to hear. 

Once inside he sat you down on his cot, suggesting you’d remove the tunic you wore and take one of the blankets to cover up while he prepared a healing salve. 

“How did you learn to do all of this?” Adar kneeled in front of you, holding a mortar with ground herbs. “It smells so sweet.” 

With two fingers, Adar scooped up some of the mixture. “You smell honey, it binds the herbs. I’ve had a love for plants and their various purposes for as long as I’ve had access to them.” Adar’s touch was gentle so as to not hurt you, carefully spreading the mixture over the cuts. 

His mind brought him back to that night where he let his walls down after the victory. The night you managed to worm your way into his personal life. He did not regret it, or even think bad of it but his feelings were still unclear. He wondered about yours as he tended to you but did not dare to speak of it. 

“Is it common for Uruks to sniff new people?” You sat up straight, having dropped the blanket from your shoulders so your wound could be dressed properly. 

Adar’s focused gaze changed into an amused one. “While I enjoy you being curious about Uruk behavior, no. They sniff because you smell of me.” 

“Oh,” you looked aside where the black tunic you wore sat folded on the cot. “It’s the tunic, isn’t it. It’s yours.” 

“That is one of the sources, yes. Among ..other things.” His gaze traveled lower for a second and you took the hint. “You smell me because of our night together.” 

Heat rose to your cheeks at the implication. Could the Uruks really smell that you had been intimate with their leader?

Without warning the front of Adar’s quarters flew open and revealed Waldreg who came with news. He wasn’t given a second to speak before he was ordered to leave, being yanked back out by two Uruks who passed by and heard their Lord Father’s anger.

You had clamped your arms over your chest the moment you noticed someone coming in, but you were convinced you were seen, let alone in front of Adar like that. What was he going to think? Would be talk? The others were going to hate you even more now.

When Adar’s attention went back to you there were tears welling in your eyes. Your breath hitched as you held back sobs, fear taking over. “H.. he saw me. Us.” You kept your arms around you as you let the tears spill, unable to stay calm under these issues. 

In a try to calm your nerves Adar draped the blanket over your frame again. “I understand it is different for other kinds,” he started as he sat back in front of you. “But here, among Uruk there is no shame in this.” Still he held the blanket closed around you, respectful of your preferences. 

“If you wish to blend among us better, I suggest you find the garment maker, she’ll have something altered to fit you and does not have my scent all over it.” He left your side then to go clean up the leftover salve and put away the used items. 

“I’d also bathe, to get rid of the otherwise more permanent mixing of our scents that’s still on your skin. Tomorrow morning at the earliest, the salve has to set.” 

With the wound dressed and your clothes back on your body you set out to find the clothes maker. It was still strange to walk as a mortal among the Uruk, especially seeing the Southlanders be snapped and snarled at while you were mostly being left alone. 

Except by the women. On your wandering path you were snatched off your feet and into a small crowd of females who swarmed you in an instant.

“You have laid with Lord Father.” “He has bred you. Tell us all about it!” They whisper-yelled over each other, the questions easily blending together.

“Lord Father never lets us please him.” “He has no interest for Uruk women, only fair ones like you.” “Look, she even wears what is his.” A hand came to pull at the tunic you wore. “Ah, I stitched those for Lord Father. Off a dead man I took them.” Another grabbed at your trousers. 

You took the opportunity to ignore the assault of questions and change the subject. 

“Then I must thank you.” You spoke to the one who was still tugging at your trousers. “Are you the clothes maker?” You watched her eyes light up at the question, frantically nodding yes and starting to ramble. “Yes yes I am! I make things from cloth and scrap. Pretty dresses too, but none fit us Uruk. Lord Father picked me for the job, says I have talent for handworks.” 

It was clear she was proud of receiving compliments on her works. By the time she was done talking the others had moved on already and the two of you were on the way to her home and workplace.

“So what’s the lady looking for? Simple to walk around in? Something armor for battle? Or fancy for Lord Father?” Grasho gave you a toothy grin as she nudged your shoulder. 

“Please, something simple works just fine. But eh..” You shied away a little at the upcoming request. “You don’t happen to have any underclothes in my size?” 

You watched Grasho move around all giddy and dig through piles of what looked like fallen soldiers’ garments. 

“Anything for our lady.” Clothes flew around the place as muttering sounded. Soft ‘no’s and noises of disagreement left her until she emerged from the piles. “Hah! I knew I kept those around somewhere!” She held the undergarment up in victory before giving it a sniff. “Eugh, needs a wash first.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at her antics and decided to stick with your current trousers until washing was finished. 

“Simple, yes? I have some, let me see I’m sure, yes!” Again she rummaged through the stacks and found a simple dark colored long shirt. It had a long patch of a lighter colored fabric along its side, as well as mismatching sleeves.

“Come on. Try.” Grasho held it up to you with an excited look. “Gotta see if it fits Lord Father’s lady! She must look good.’ 

The more time you spent among the Uruks, even if it had been as little as it is now, your night with Adar came with an acceptance of his kin. 

“Lady? Where did your head go?” Grasho was in your face now, poking right on the wound on your ribs making you jump and apologize for zoning out.

“Fit, now? You remember I told you about the underclothes, right?” You fidgeted with the ties on your tunic.

“Keep the pants. Just need to fit the top.” She motioned at you to hurry. “Come on!” 

You remembered Adar’s words then.

‘Among Uruk there is no shame in this’ 

You steadied your racing heart with a couple of deep breaths “Okay.” and slowly rid yourself of the tunic you wore.

“Ooh” Grasho leaned down and put her hands on you immediately, making you tense at the contact. “Lord Father’s personal patch up. Pretty bandages, only the best for his lady.” 

You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around your chest and hide, but if you were going to stay you needed to learn to live like the Uruks. And the woman in front of you paid no attention to your chest, just the bandages below. 

You decided to speak to distract your racing mind.

“You know I’m not really his lady, right? He just cared for me.” Your eyes followed Grasho’s moves as she put the dress on you and scribbled on it with a soot stick.

“Lord Father laid with you. He never does with anybody.” She piped up and poked your cheek with the stick, leaving a black dot on your skin. “You are a special one.” There was a serious tone in her words all of a sudden.

“Okay. Off now.” You were being maneuvered out of the dress so the soot wouldn’t smudge or rub off on you, and Adar’s tunic was kindly returned to you. When you put it back on your stomach rumbled out loud, reminding you of the fact that you hadn’t eaten after your small breakfast. You didn’t even know where you’d get food. Would you go find Adar and ask him?

“Now now,” You were grabbed by the shoulders and practically shoved out the door. “You go find the cook and eat! Krod makes tasty stew.” Grasho happily pointed you in the right direction. “I will fix and wash your stuff, bring it tomorrow. Half house, had guards before, yes?” 

You barely got a chance to answer her before she had disappeared again. So you set out in the direction she pointed out in search of food. It wasn’t difficult with the smell of what you expected to be the stew filled the air, all you had to do now was follow your nose.

Quickly you found the tent serving food, almost bumping into someone with how distracting the smell was. 

Taking a quick look around you noticed the person you almost ran into was a Southlander who gave you a disgusted look and turned back to wait in line for food. 

Further in front of the line you saw Uruks join in front of the humans, dismissing them and moving them further back in line. It felt like you were going to be eating scraps tonight.

That was, until your arm was grabbed and you were moved along the line and placed next to someone almost at the front. You recognized her.

The one who took you along the line was Glûg who put you with his wife. 

“You can go wherever you want. Not a single Uruk who will tell you no.” With a tug on the string of your tunic he let you know what he meant without any more words and joined his wife at her side. 

The food was so close now you were almost drooling in anticipation.

[mysadcorner]

Could I request a headcanon of treating their injuries for Bale!Bruce Wayne, Wally west, Jason todd and Aqualad please

Treating DC Character’s Injuries Headcanons

- Credit to the gifs owner - Please be specific about characters wanted in headcanons and read request rules -

Masterlist Navigation

Bruce Wayne

• Bruce would probably try to avoid you at first if he was seriously injured, he doesn’t want you to worry and he certainly can’t stand it when you show him sympathy for the pain he’s in. If Alfred’s not around then he’ll use you as a second resort, even though it will crush his ego a bit.

• He hates getting injuries, but he’s not really ashamed of getting them unless someone got away or someone got hurt that wasn’t supposed to. He’ll happily get hurt countless times in order to help people, no matter how often you tell him off for it while stitching him up.

• Bruce gets stitched up quite often, so he really won’t be bothered by the pain while you’re helping him out. However, he will try to keep up appearances in front of you to make it seem like he’s handling it better than he is, he won’t want to be vulnerable around you unless he’s known you for a very long time.

• If Alfred is busy, the wound isn’t that bad, or he just so happens to be near you when he needs to have his injuries checked at, then you might end up helping him out quite often. He wouldn’t plan on this, but he appreciates you being there when he needs it.

• Since the two of you are used to each other’s company and he prefers you being around, he’ll probably want you to stay with him for a while after his injury has been treated. In his earlier days of being Batman he wouldn’t have wanted company after an injury, but he’s come over that after it became harder to get people to leave him isolated.

Wally West

• It’s hard for someone to get a hold on Wally and hurt him, but when they do he’s absolutely defeated afterwards. He doesn’t want to admit it but he feels ashamed even when he keeps on a smile through the pain, you can’t help but look at him like a kicked puppy once he comes to you to get patched up.

• Wally wouldn’t be ashamed of the injury, depending on what it is, but as long as the injury didn’t prevent him from helping people then he would mainly just be bashful about it. He tries his best to make it into a situation he can joke about, mainly to avoid getting stressed himself.

• He is actually much more squeamish than you’d think when it comes to his own injuries. Fighting others and seeing their injuries is fine, but having to look at his own is a bit harder for him to deal with if he can get it looked at immediately or his adrenalin is wearing off.

• He doesn’t get injured as much as the others would, because of his speed he’s more likely to dodge anything that could cause him harm. But, he does come home with an injury every now and then to the point where it wouldn’t be anything dramatic if he did somehow sustain an injury. It comes with the job.

• Wally is pretty clingy, even without an injury, so he’d want you to spend time with him especially if he’s hurt. Once he’s all stitched up or his injury has been seen to he’ll spend almost all of his time with you until he’s capable of running around again freely.

Jason Todd

• Jason needs comfort even if he won’t admit it, soo when he comes to you to fix up his injuries it’s more so that he can receive comfort rather than relying on you to stitch him up. He has plenty of people that could deal with his injuries, but it’s you that he wants to spend time with.

• Jason hates to admit that he’s got an injury, and hates even more to admit that he’s in pain. Even if he is capable of being vulnerable around you and comes to you for help, he’s still going to have a hard time expressing it fully and asking for the help he really needs. If you weren’t around then he’d just stitch himself up, and in desperate occasions he’d go to Alfred.

• On the outside, he’d be handling you stitching him up or caring for his injury pretty well and may try his best to be stoic about it for as long as he can. On the inside, he’s in agony. It’ll take a lot of time and a big attempt to break down his walls for him to freely tell you how much pain he’s in or express what he’s going through at all.

• Jason tends to pick the tougher guys to fight against, especially those that have a lot of men working for them. So, despite his weapons and training, he’s still going to sustain injuries pretty often. Thankfully, the one’s you deal with for him aren’t too major.

• Jason is actually desperate for company, while he’s injured or not. And the fact that you’re willing to be near him and help him when he’s hurt gives him a lot of comfort that he’s been missing out on. It’s not often he gets close to people, so he’s going to take advantage of you being around for as long as he can.

Aqualad

• If it’s been established that he’s more than welcome to come to you when he’s been injured, then he definitely will. It might make sense going to someone more qualified, but his injury being dealt with by your hands makes him feel better about the situation.

• He wouldn’t be ashamed of the injury, but he would be worried as to how he let it happen and how it could possibly happen again if he wasn’t careful. It makes him much more vigilant about things after he gets an injury he knows he could have prevented.

• The pain he’s going through and how he’s struggling with the injury while you’re attending to it is going to be obvious, but he does try his best. He’s good at keeping still when you need him to, but will express how much hurts at the same time.

• This really isn’t a regular thing, usually he’s able to deal with the people he goes up against fairly well. Every once in a while he does come back with some sort of injury, but it’s definitely not a regular occurrence, especially if he has someone else that could see to his injury too.

• He does like you to stay with him once you’re done helping him with whatever injury he has, but that’s mainly for the conversations he can have with you. He’s mostly going to just listen to you talk, and it’s a nice distraction for him.

[genderfluid-and-confuzled]

my Punk Jackets

masterpost >:>

Okay so here's my current battle jacket that I wear all the time.

The back patch is a Front Bottoms song and the jacket is covered in things, little keys, fun worms I give away (not all the pride flags are mine some are just so I can give people theirs), pins, safety pins (esp around the collar) and spikes.

One side of the jacket is this and has my hopepunk patch which is a personal like. fave.

and the other is like this! The mischief brew one sews through the pocket fun fact (just a little though like 1 stitch)

my friend @soan-papdi made the cabin 11 patch! <3

the pockets on this jacket are big enough to put a magazine in and it's a great jacket.

Next is my flannel which I made summer of 2021, two of the patches have been replaces but the rest definitely show their age. It doesn't have a lot on it because when I was hospitalized I took all the sharps off all my jackets and I haven't gotten around to putting them back on that jacket yet. It definitely is more political than my more music/art-oriented jacket and both have benefits

The "Share art share joy" patch (which used to be "snitch on your boss" but that would fold and looked like "itch your ass" moral of the story, look at how things will fold lol) is a pocket!

The back patch is the first patch I ever made! The sleeves are spiked which is fun but flannel definely doesn't hold spikes well.

Next is my leather jacket which was pleather so fell apart so I painted in all the holes and did a Kimya Dawson quote on the back. It needs some touch-ups on the quote but it's really sweet to me because it did it with friends.

And finally, my platypus' jacket.

I sewed the whole thing myself from a jean leg and the back patch is going to be "love yourself a latke" because his name is Latke!

Right now he has a rainbow heart, some black eyed susans, and a "Bee kind" patch!

If anyone ever wants battle jacket tips I'd love to give advice. I might make another fashion post sometime with all my written on shirts or my jorts I embroidered and painted on. Maybe I'll post my kandi someday. for now; Here's my jackets! I worked hard on them.