#and of course they always lose to the heroes. that's how it's supposed to go after all

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than princesses

Watched this video about my favorite type of villain and thought about how Alice and Compass would play the role of Evil Villain differently, so I made them an Evil Duo

Also thought about how perfectly the idea of werewolves works with Childish Harmony so I made that

[glossykissies]

can’t stop thinking about being clark’s cutesie girly girl cheerleader girlfriend … ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ³ ᵔ ꒱ྀིა

standing at 6’3, clark still gets nervous and stumbles over his words when you look up at him with those sweet, fluttery doe eyes. you got everything you wanted from him, without even fighting for it. he didn’t have all the money in the world, but that didn’t mean he didn’t spoil you.

there’s something broken in your house that you just don’t know how to fix? clark can already anticipate the phone call starting with “claaaaarkie…” meaning he’s going to have to drop everything to come right over. tired of walking? all you need to do is lift up your arms and he’ll lift you like the princess you are. need to get fucked through the mattress? well — he’s already pushing your knees to your chest with that clark kent smile.

you felt like everyone in smallville had to be missing something up there — clark was a walking action figure. drop dead gorgeous, kind, gifted in any sport you throw toward him, and always, always finding a way to be the hero. the only reason there was any confusion regarding your dating choices was because clark was just a ‘regular farm boy’, who often stuck to his two friends. that’s all people saw him as — but not you.

clark always finding a way to be at the scene of any crime saving the day had its downsides outside of bragging rights. sure, it felt good to always say “yeah, my boyfriend stopped that robbery.” “yes, it was my clark that saved that guy from that burning building.” but it often made your schedules unpredictable.

“i thought you were gonna take me out tonight, clark.” you sulk, standing in your doorway in those little frilly pink pyjamas you’d hoped clark would be peeling off you in the middle of the night.

“i know, look — i promise you, i am more mad at me than you are. but you know how these things always come up, there’s always something going down in smallville. i just can’t walk away.” he softens, furrowed brows framing the big innocent eyes you couldn’t say no to. he was so big, but he was folding, shrinking himself to be closer to your level in guilt, hands lifted in pleading.

you sigh, gnawing at your fresh french manicure as you eye him over. clark was a good guy, you supposed he couldn’t help it.

“do you wanna come in?” you offer quietly, and he seems to relax just a tad. nodding, he follows you inside but stays incredibly close — like he can’t bear for you to leave his sight again. he hovers over you aimlessly in the hallway as you stare up at him. “look clark, i understand you need to help people, but just… no more promises okay? i can’t take being let down anymore.” you look down at your slippers sadly and he catches your chin, tilting your head up to look into his desperate eyes. he was determined not to lose you to this.

“no more promises. i promise. wait—” he shakes his head, eyes screwed shut and you giggle softly, eyes a little tearful. “i will make the time for you, and try my best. but yes, i won’t make promises anymore… it’s not fair on you, beautiful.” the hand that gently grasps your chin slips round to cup your cheek. it was hard not to forgive him when he called you that.

surprisingly, this whole ‘no promises’ thing worked well in your favour. you wouldn’t get your hopes up, so when clark would randomly show up to a party you asked him to come with you to — your tipsy little self is thrilled, running over and throwing your arms around his shoulders. he looks a little dishevelled and distracted, like he’d just arrived from a life changing event, but he focuses in on you in a seconds notice, smiling softly as he wraps arms around your lower back, lifting you off your tip toes.

“clark you caaaame!” you grin.

“of course. couldn’t miss the chance to see my favourite girl now could i?” he warms as he softly places you back down on your feet, but you don’t let go of his biceps.

“mhm. i was hoping you’d — oops!” you giggle as you stumble on your feet. he catches you easily, raising an amused eyebrow.

“you okay there?”

“a little tipsy.” you admit, biting down on your glittery glossed lip. the playful sight sent pulses right down to his cock, the flag pole of an appendage jumping in his jeans.

“i can see that. let’s get you some water, yeah?”

the times clark couldn’t show up, he made up for with surprise dates and middle of the night visits. after begrudgingly blowing off your date night to save a hostage, clark shows up — standing guiltily in your bedroom when you step out your bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a short towel from your late night shower.

“clark?” you gasp and he spins around, nearly knocking over the trinket on your dresser he was inspecting.

“oh, um— hi…” he’s seen you naked so many times, and yet tries to maintain respectful eye contact.

“you came to see me.” you observe with a smile, walking over and stroking his arm happily. he clears his throat, ill-prepared for the way his dick started to harden. you had a kryptonite-like effect on him that totally weakened him.

“couldn’t stop thinking about you.” he voices softly, fingering the initial necklace that you never took off. the touch of his hand made you loopy, staring up at him with that helpless doe eyed expression. the look on your face gives him that surge of confidence that he knows you love, his expression hardening to one of more self assurance. “let me show you what i’ve been thinking about.” and with that, he kisses you — tongue swirling wetly around yours as he gently tugs your towel off your damp body.

“c—clarkie—” you shudder in a whiny cadence against his lips, and a hand that began to knead your tit slides down with urgency to push your thighs open, cupping your damp cunt.

“aww. you’re already wet.” he smiles against you, and from his tone you know he’s not even making fun of you, moreso observing in awe. “something tells me this wasn’t from the shower.” he presses the pads of his fingers against your wetness, pushing the arousal around and up to your clit as you whimper and buckle against him. his other hand pulls you against his body by your lower back, effortlessly holding your weight up.

“mmph— was thinking about you too.” you whimper and he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, tilting his head accommodatingly to look you over, finding his rhythm as he strokes your clit.

“yeah?” he cooes gently, only making you whine louder. “so sweet, pretty girl.”

@hanasnx for you to read and with u in mind … ♡

[auroras-zenith]

what doesn't kill you // part 1

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

previous ✧ next

The winds howled with a fury matched only by that lit within Katsuki Bakugo as he propelled himself forward at reckless speeds. The explosions emanating from his hands only aggravated the sky in its tantrum further. Fluorescent red and blue lights lit the night sky into day–a warning written into each flashing color.

It was a hard night to be a hero.

The villain had disappeared without a trace at some point during the fight–a cowardly move–but it was already far too late. The damage was done–spanning far across the expanse of several city blocks. Every hero in Japan was out, managing collapsing apartment buildings in the hundreds. The world waited with bated breath to see how things would pan out.

“South stairwell has fallen!”  The words were panicked and rushed, each staticky syllable striking a new bout of fear into the hero’s already erratic heart.  

“Deku! Civilians on the seventeenth floor! I can’t get them down without breaking the building!”

"We need backup!"

“Creati is down! We need to fall back!”

The blonde man felt his heart sinking. The heroes were spread too thin. They were losing ground. He had to call it at some point–had to cut his losses and count the bodies.

But how could they just leave? Even if the casualty count rose no higher, 182 loved ones would not return home to their families tonight–from this sector alone. He hovered midair for a moment, torn.

"Dynamight, we've got to go! The buildings structurally unsound!"

"You all get out! I'm not done yet. I'll leave when the building is clear!" You shouted, refusing to back down as you sprinted through the maze of debris.

“Tch! Cordelia! Rendezvous point! Now!” He made up his mind, shouting above the sound of the gales that threatened to knock him right out of the air. He changed course, guiding himself back toward where the rest were undoubtedly gathering.

"I've already told you! I'm not done till that whole building is empty, end of story. You go!"

"Cordelia, I'm not fucking with you, you hear me?!" He seethed. "Cordelia, do you copy! Don't start some self-sacrificing bullshit! Get your ass out, we're going!"

The silence that stretched through the night was fine at first–but then it was a second too long. And then several seconds too long. The eerie absence of sound chilled him to the bone, freezing him in his tracks. “Cordelia! Where the fuck are you at?”

He felt the blood in his veins turn to ice as he was met with the only sound worse than silence.

A blood curdling scream ripped through the comms, the crackly sound carrying evident agony.

“Crap!” He hissed, making an immediate 180. His annoyance was nothing more than a disguise–a clever mask that he could hide behind to feign confidence. In reality, he could feel his world shaking and crumbling to pieces around him. “I NEED EYES ON CORDELIA NOW! RED! SHE WAS WITH YOU LAST!” 

“She left with Chargebolt to the east quadrant!” 

“Chargebolt was taken out of the field for injuries!” 

“FUCK!” He shot through the sky, a comet of fear as unspoken worries and doubts flashed through his mind faster than he could shoot them down. He wasn’t supposed to fear–he was supposed to be feared. But you always had been his greatest strength–or perhaps you were his only weakness.

“I’VE GOT EYES ON HER, DYNAMIGHT! SHE’S BEEN HIT! EVERYONE GET TO THE RENDEZVOUS POINT, I’LL GET HER!”

"FUCK THAT, DEKU! I'M COMING!" The terror in his voice was practically contagious.

Midoriya felt the walls of the building crumbling apart around him–or maybe that was his world. The hit wasn’t looking good–clean through your spine. He slid to the floor, narrowly dodging a falling chunk of concrete.

“Cordelia! Cordelia, I need you to stay with me!” He demanded wildly as he willed his legs faster.

He had seen terrors of all shapes and sizes. Natural disasters that left everything in shambles, monsters that shook the earth with each step, but this…

He worked as he spoke, adrenaline working overtime as he rushed to lift you, sprinting as he navigated them both through the collapsing rubble as if you weighed nothing.

“Cordelia!” He felt his heart leap out of his chest as he saw your eyes threatening to close. “Cordelia! CORDELIA! Y/n! Y/n, please! He can’t lose you. I can’t lose you, Y/n!” He begged.

Your silence save for your labored and erratic breathing spurred his steps faster. A large piece of rubble fell from the roof, blocking the only exit.

“Shoto! I need a way out! Northeast stairwell’s compromised!” He shouted into his earpiece, heart beating louder than the sound of the building coming apart.

“DON’T MOVE, DEKU!” The world shook harder.

How could this be happening? Cordelia? His partner? The cofounder of the Dynadelia agency?

The wall in front of Deku and you shook, splintering into thousands of tiny rocks. The green haired hero moved to shield you with his body, his larger frame absorbing all the impact. He handed you off to the explosion hero without another word.

The blonde jumped without another word, using his explosions to slow his descent as he cradled you safely in one arm. Deku followed suit, using his quirk to slow his fall as well.

"MEDIC! WE NEED A MEDIC!"

It didn't take a genius to see he was losing them. He was losing two of his closest friends. One to the giant metal rod sticking through her abdomen, and the other to the deathly fear pounding through his head.

The world was silent tonight as the men plummeted to the floor, praying for Japan's fourth hero.

The hero world, praying for Y/n L/n.

a/n: goal is to not randomly ghost this cus i HATE when that happens to me

taglist: @floverisland @biancatomlinson @rosaryia

permanent tags: @phtmmsqrde

[satvruu]

ೀ how they hug you

rewritten and reposted of my hc set from my old blog @/star-puff! thank you to all my old dedications as well as my new ones @kurooppi @wyllsravengard for making my return to this fandom possible <3

feedback is very appreciated!

ft. yuuji, megumi, gojo, getou, nanami

itadori yuuji embraces you warmly, fondly, sunlight streaming through the window and scattering over your bare skin. it's someplace safe and comforting, enveloped in his arms like he's taken it upon himself to protect you from everything horrible in the world; he is your knight, he is your shield, your safe haven to escape to, no matter how many wounds he will endure in the process. ("yuuji," you whisper, a hand coming up to rest gently on his arm. he bleeds desperation. "i'm okay, i promise." yuuji squeezes you tighter, trembling, and you wonder what you can do to make it true for him, too.) he holds you for far too long for it to be anything casual, but you can't really complain about it anyway—it's better this than to witness the alternative. after all, what is the sun without a place to hold its warmth; what becomes of a hero when they fail to protect the things that matter most?

fushigurou megumi comes to you slow, steady, a ripple of water in the pond. you coax him out gently, holding your arms out before wrapping them around him. his breath hitches (always, no matter how many times he tries to hide it) and his body stiffens, arms frozen at his sides. but slowly, surely, your head buried in his chest, megumi's arms begin to wrap around you in a manner you can only describe as tender—as if you could break if he held onto you too tight. (truthfully, megumi thinks he's just afraid. the jujutsu world is a dangerous one, after all, even to those who only know of it by name. megumi has lost too many people, and you're the one person he can't afford to lose.) he flinches at the thought, pulling away. you draw yourself closer in him, instead. moonlight behind the clouds, you'd gladly hold onto this night forever if it meant megumi was by your side.

gojo satoru is known as many things—a child prodigy, the strongest, a boy-god making his presence known on the lowly earth, but to you, he is simply just obnoxious. satoru makes it a spectacle each time he sees you: hollering, gallivanting, draping himself over you with his long limbs and impossible-to-miss frame. you huff and complain and uselessly try to drag yourself away from him each time, but satoru hooks onto you and refuses to let you go, nuzzling his face into yours. (they're mine, the action screams, a blaring warning to anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in the collateral. you've been too caught up in your irritation of him to notice this, of course, and you're certainly not someone who would take the explicit meaning of it kindly, but satoru finds that he doesn't really care. not when he has more important things to attend to.) gojo satoru is many things, but the one thing he absolutely isn't is someone who can share.

getou suguru smells of sandalwood incense, a musky amber you think you could identify blind. sometimes, you think you remember a different suguru, a kinder suguru, one that had easier things to worry about, a brighter look in his eyes, an easier weight to his gait. if you think back far enough, you suppose it might have been because he had somebody else by his side to keep it that way, a brighter light shining next to him to keep the darkness at bay. (but that was a long time ago. now, suguru is the one left to be lit by the fire, stuck in the ashes of his own kin for a future little understand. you're not sure who is to blame for that anymore.) you're not the light that can save him—no one can be, not anymore. when suguru reaches out to you, rare vulnerability bubbling over in a way you can only describe as drowning—as crumbling—the only thing you can do is curl yourself next to him in the incense burner, smearing yourself in the ash.

nanami kento thinks you need this, especially after a long, hard day. the melting comes slow: his hands on your back, gentle pats and quiet whispers of comfort as he rests his chin on your head. and then comes everything else. his hands slot perfectly into the dip of your back, the small of your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles over the fabric of your clothes, and in the eyes of no one but yourselves, the two of you begin to sway back and forth to a quiet melody nanami begins to hum. you cling onto the fabric of his shirt, trying to memorie the smell of his cologne, the rumble of his voice, the warmth of his arms. (it's too much, to have a memory of a future that will inevitably happen. you almost want to cry. don't go, you want to say, a lump in your throat, wishing for the impossible. don't go.) and still, selfish as you are, nanami hugs you like you're slow dancing in the dark.

[ronearoundblindly]

Drabble Birthday Ask!

Reader finally 'catches' the thing Steve's been hiding... it's that he's tired. He's tired, and he thinks it's non-inspiring or embarrassing or a burden, and he has been acting weird to cover for that.

Steeeeeeb!!!! Yes of course some TLC for Stevie. Excellent. Would recommend. 11 out of 10. Always give him the peace and safety! (Don't hate me though; it's just a bit of established relationship fluff!)

I am uncharacteristically skipping the part where you confront Steve about this. Yes, that's right. Remain calm. Ro has passed up the opportunity to write an argument. Hold your applause. WC idk but probably 2k or less (bit of a surprise at the end, too 🤭)

It's so easy.

It's just so damn easy to lose track, to keep going, to repeat. One more conversation. One more chore. One more hour. One more day. One more.

More. Constantly more.

Steve is very good at giving more. He is consistent, constant, incessant, but you can see now that despite his unending strength, your husband can't hide that drawn, fragile look behind his eyes any longer.

Sometimes, that's life.

"Actually, scratch that shit," Tony says with a flagrant point to your face as you chat. "Life is always like that. I know what Big Guy needs, don't you worry. Consider it sorted."

This speed-date style convo tumbles through a ten-second-savoring of tea. You got one cryptic sentence about 'how you're doing' in before Tony perfectly translates your meaning.

For once, more is unnecessary. He knows.

Stark, however, doesn't even have a moment to finish the turn up of his lips in a smile before his watch is pinged.

His eyes focus to the inside of his glasses. "Go for the World's Most Fashionable Hero," he deadpans, wandering off with his mug clasped like a lifeline in his hands.

Yeah, you know that feeling. Wit's End must be as contagious as pinkeye 'round these parts.

Steve's been silent for the last hour of the car ride. He checks the address. He checks the map. He checks the road. That's it.

Music he usually hates has been playing for fifty-one minutes and counting. No reaction.

Clearly, you were right to ask Stark for help.

The gravel drive up to the cabin is bumpy, and Steve apologizes for having to go so slowly.

"Almost there. I think it's--yeah, there. Okay, we're here." Your husband flips the key back and out of the ignition, a stunted sigh forcing it's way past his tight shoulders, immediately opening the door and heading for the trunk. "I'll get the bags. You get the--"

"Steve? Will you come with me for a sec?"

He looks at you--really sets his eyes on you--for the first time since loading the car.

"What's wrong?"

You crunch up to the short staircase to the long porch. "Just come up here, please."

It takes another wave of your hand in encouragement before Steve abandons the small duffels and totes. He's not used to leaving a man behind. He's got a mission. He's supposed to finish the job. Always one more thing.

More. Constantly more. That's Steve's life, and he does it without complaint. Never, ever complaining, even when he should.

His heavy, tired feet fall hollowly on the wood.

"We're starting now," you chirp, excited to surprise him.

Steve tips his bodyweight to lean on the banister, crossing his ankles before crossing his arms, his head down while sneaking a squint-and-blink to try and bounce his energy back.

"Sure, what's first on the list?"

"Oh, no," you correct. "The list is mine. Those are my activities for the weekend. You are here."

His brow furrows. "What? You're gonna--"

"Steve." You gently hold onto his arms. "I mean, you have nothing to do. Not a single thing. And I don't care where you do it, but you will be doing nothing all weekend. Sleep in the bed, on the couch, on the dingy over there, hell, right here on the porch swing. It doesn't matter. It's your rest, but you must rest."

"What about--"

"Nope."

"Or if--"

"Uh-uh, definitely not."

Steve looks slightly panicked. "Dinner?" he tries in a last-ditch effort to be useful every minute of every day.

"There is a bag of stuff that I will be dumping into a crockpot and walking away from, so, no, you can't do that either."

He's still not sure, eyes glassy and flickering about.

"There's fruit for breakfast, veggies and dip for snacks, and we don't have to even turn on the stove unless we want to. Now--" you release him "--I'm putting stuff away and--"

Steve opens his mouth to argue.

"--and not one word out of you. Not one, sweets. Go. Be free. Sleep. Stare at the water, or a wall, or the ceiling for all I care, but you have nothing else to do today. Okay?"

His eye twitches, a half-hearted glare melting into a challenge in his tight jaw.

"Okay???" you prod.

His hands fling out in defeat. "You told me not to say a word," he whines, automatically making his way back down the stairs.

"No bags," you scold.

He whips around, almost muttering.

"No bags." You rush down and past him toward the car. "And I will bring you looser clothes to sleep in."

"You--"

"AH!"

"But--"

"What did I just say, Rogers?"

Now he just looks petulant, a familiar mood in your household.

You stubbornly point to the cabin. "Go on. Git!"

He watches you bring in the mindfully-light bags you packed up for the trip, pouting and scowling in equal measure.

Steve has to show off at least once by snatching up a bit of potato that rolled across the counter in the transfer of dinner.

Instead of thanking him, you shove a t-shirt and thin sweats at his chest.

He fakes an oof of surprise and traps you for a quick kiss before going to change. He does leave you alone for the rest of setting up.

Steve is dead asleep on the deep, two-seater porch swing when you head to the little work shed, his knees bent so he faces in, his forehead buried in cushion to block out daylight, already snoring softly.

You have to hold your hands to your chest so as not to touch him. Tears of joy prick your eyes seeing him relax so quickly.

Steve can follow orders when he wants to, you think with a smile.

In the garden shed, Pepper has all the cool crafting things, and you putz around with some wood pieces and paints for a couple of hours. You walk the perimeter of the cabin to find some nice wildflowers for a table centerpiece, mixing delicate stems of blue buds with expansive wisps of white and little pops of yellow. You attempt to figure out the dingy but decide against going on the water alone yet. Maybe tomorrow.

At no point does Steve move.

When you walk up to the house, fist full of flowers, he's out cold, softly swaying in the breeze as the gusts pick up in the afternoon.

You snack and listen to music in your headphones, doze in the bed after the sun warmed you a little too much, and then wake to the smell of stew.

The beep of the crockpot wakes him.

Bedhead and pillow mishmarks on his cheek look great on Steve Rogers.

Without argument, he washes his hands and sits at the reclaimed wood table.

Steve says only two things:

"Thank you" when you set a large bowl in front of him, and "can you pass the salt?" after he taste-tests the meal.

He reads a book until falling asleep for the night with you, curled with his knees bent again.

He does well.

He keeps resting, multiple times with his book open on his chest, barely to halfway after hours and hours of holding on to the browning paperback pages.

He rests in the bed. He rests on the couch. He rests (again) on the porch swing. Finally, he rests in your lap while you both float on the lake in the dingy.

He rests with you by his side. He rests with you in his arms. He rests even when you leave to do something else. It's exactly what you wanted, what he needed, and how it should be.

Steve mumbles a fair few things, but the most important thing is that none of it is important enough to articulate. He doesn't have to talk. He doesn't have to be heard. He doesn't have to be understood.

He only has to rest, and he's following orders well. He's completing his mission.

It is truly fascinating how close you can feel without words--okay, so you two aren't completely non-verbal for the weekend, but there are no long conversations. After being married for a while, those are not entirely necessary. You know each other too well for all that; Steve simply feels the stigma of being weak and tired from his youth.

He holds himself to a different, impossible standard. He thinks of it as pushing the limits of his serum, as offering everything he has to others, as respecting those he cares for by shouldering burdens. You think it's stupid.

It is the only stupid thing Steve Rogers does.

Now, after days of resting, you're pretty sure Steve knows he was being stupid.

You hope he knows he can ask for help or a break whenever he wants, before he needs it this badly.

To your great delight, Steve gathers up his things that were left around the house, but he leaves the actual packing to you. This is very helpful in keeping the final surprise.

He's watching the water, sitting up in the porch swing for once with an arm thrown over the back, an easy, calm smile stretched across his face, the first you've seen in months if you're being honest.

Steve gestures for you to join him, but you bite your lip and check the gravel drive.

Exactly on schedule, an engine revs and wheels crackle over the gravel.

You wink at your husband just as excited shouts ring out from Tony's fancy car.

"Papa! Papa! Look what Morgan and I found at the beach!"

"I made you a seashell necklace, Momma. You, too, Pops."

Your children race up the porch steps and jump into the space below Steve's arm.

His smile is still easy, but perhaps a little more excited than calm.

More. Constantly more.

But it's not all tiring...

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay

@rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

[manias-wordcount]

Hi, can I request a Midoriya Izuku x Fem reader from childhood friends to lovers, if you can please do it oneshot ,of course you can do it whenever you want, have a nice day.

Exception (Izuku Midoriya x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗼𝗼𝗽𝘀 ): 𝗶 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗮𝗱 ):

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

For the longest time, the two of you only had each other.

You didn’t know anyone else who was quirkless. He didn’t know anyone else either. So it made sense that the two of you would cling together. It made sense that the two of you would seek solace and reassurance in each other. It made sense that the two of you would be together- always and forever. It made sense. The two of you made sense. It just did. 

Until it didn’t.

Ten years ago, your best friend in the whole world suddenly had a quirk. It happened suddenly. Practically overnight. All that the talk about him training and wanting to become a hero suddenly felt a lot more possible than the two of you ever thought possible. But you suppose things aren’t meant to go your way. At least, not forever. Because it was then that he took off running- as if he sprouted wings and learned how to fly. 

That new power of his took him to UA High School while you were stuck at the local high school- the one you thought the two of you were always going to end up going to together. Sure, the two of you were still able to see each other after school every now and then. But with him going to UA living the life of a hero-in-training meant that you and your boring civilian life were competing with so much now. Because the two of you no longer only had each other. 

Because he had so much more now. More friends. More love to go ahead. More reasons to keep him busy. More reason to have him reschedule your hangouts. More reasons to have him cancel on you. More reasons for him to miss your cancels and respond to your texts later and later and later. More reasons for him to lose track of your number altogether. And eventually, more reasons for you to stop trying to compete. Because as much as you hate to admit it, things are different. They had to be different. He wasn’t quirkless anymore. So he didn’t have time to spend with quirkless nobodies like you. He had lives to save. Villains to fight. A quirk to train. And so much more to do. And none of those things would ever, ever include you.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

But then one day, you saw him again. Just a chance encounter. A small sighting of the Pro-Hero Deku out on the streets, giving interviews after a particularly nasty, yet quick battle. You didn’t mean to stay. But then again, you never meant to spend the last decade or so keeping up with his interviews and fight footage. Praying and cheering silently that he would make it out of every battle unscathed.

So you found yourself lingering. Just watching from your spot in the crowd as just another fan and concerned citizen. Just another nameless, faceless person who heroes like him keep safe. Someone thankful, but forgettable. Someone with nothing but awe and praise for people like him, but completely ordinary. Someone who will disappear the second you step out of sight.

But then his eyes met yours. 

For a stupid second, you wanted to believe that he recognized you. You wanted to believe he knew it was you as looked out into the crowd and right in your direction. But then the moment lasted longer than a second. And then it was longer than a minute. And then it was glances back in your direction, every chance he could get. Throughout the interview. Throughout the autographs. Throughout the crowding and chaos and the mayhem. 

That morning, you thought everything was going to be painfully normal, as it always was. That afternoon, you received a phone call from a number you thought you would never see again. That night, you found yourself being invited to an apartment in an expensive part of the city that you know you and your best friend in the whole wide world would have balked at just over a decade ago. And the morning after?

You find yourself walking up in a pair of arms that are oh-so-familiar, yet so very different from when you last saw them. 

It was still Izuku Midoriaya that invited you over as if you were still fourteen years old, ready to trade comic books and swap hero-sighting stories. But Neither of you could deny the fact that he was a changed man. Though neither of you could deny the level of change you had to go through either. Because unsurprisingly, his absence left a hole in your heart. Quirkless people are growing fewer and fewer by the day. Your world became lonelier without him in it. And no amount of whispered promises or recorded TV interviews was going to bring that back. No amount of anything was going to bring your best friend back and all the years that were stolen from you. 

Still, he tried. He got down on his knees and held your face in his hands as he tried to explain himself to you. He told you everything. He told you about every time he canceled. He told you about every time he forgot to call. He told you about why he kept his distance. He told you about why it pained him, so to keep himself away from you. Because apparently, he had made enemies early on. Apparently, your name had been used as leverage against him starting as early as your freshmen year of high school.

Apparently, he would rather die than get you caught up in his mess after he had already broken his promise of forever and always with you.

And it worked. All his convincing- all his words? It worked. It worked because you could still hear him. You could still hear your Izuku’s voice despite the years that have passed you both by. It may be older and a little bit gruffer now, but you could still hear him. And it also worked because you could still see him. You could still see the places where his youthful and childlike expression would have been. You could still see that very little about him has changed. And the parts that did change all came with murmured explanations in your ear and he encouraged you to trace your finger over every scar and every freckle as his own arms circled themselves around your waist. Asking you over and over again if he still looks like the boy you used to know. 

If you could love him like the boy you used to know.

Now, maybe you’re stupid. Maybe you’re far too lonely and broken, and he’s feeling far too high on nostalgia and your tears to see why this might be a bad idea. Or maybe you’re not. Maybe you’re not stupid, and maybe this isn’t a bad idea. Maybe for once in a long, long time, the two of you can have each other again without things ending up in heartbreak. After all, you’re tired of re-reading old old text messages. You’re tired of watching interviews. You’re tired of watching his life from the sideline. You’re tired of facing the end of always and forever. 

So, is it really wrong to want this for yourself? Is it really so wrong when the arms, fresh with new scars and wounds of battle and fights you know nothing about are opening themselves up so willingly to you? You don’t think so. You really, really don’t think so. But then again, what do you know? Nothing, after all. You know absolutely nothing. Because you weren’t the exception back then.

So who says you’ll be the exception now?

[datesinredink]

Ranking the yandere rottmnt boys by how likely they are to kidnap their darling

Just a little crumb to keep myself from losing my mind while staring at google docs this late at night. Sorry if this is super bad, it's way later at night than I'm used to staying up and election night stressed me the hell out.

Donnie.

I have absolutely no doubts that he's going to at least try very very hard to kidnap you. And honestly, I doubt it would be too hard. He's a highly trained, mystic wielding, tech inventing, mutant ninja turtle. And on top of that, he's very fond of planning absolutely everything. And to finish it all off, I think it would be once in a blue moon that he actually treats his darling as an equal. He already thinks he's better than almost everyone, and when he gets obsessed, he has to make himself feel better about it somehow, so he decides to cope by thinking you need him instead of it being the other way around. As a result, he treats you a bit like a very glorified songbird, and songbirds.. well, aren't they usually put in cages anyway? You won't even care after a week or two of adjustment! (He will get upset if you aren't content with being kidnapped by then, by the way.)

2. Raph

The only reason Raph is behind Donnie on this list is because I think he would take longer to justify it to himself. He thinks you're fragile, that you need to be protected from the harsh world! I mean, he barely trusts his youngest brother, who is also a highly trained ninja, to do a simple mission on his own. How do you think he'll treat you after the obsession sets in properly? Not really as an equal, I'll tell you that. He's much nicer to you than Donnie would be, but he still doesn't respect you enough to let you handle yourself, even if that's not how he sees his behavior. At the same time though... isn't he supposed to be a hero? Do heroes kidnap their darlings? Or would this make him the dragon... In the end though, he'll decide that he's fine with being the dragon so long as he knows that the rest of the world won't be able to run their metaphorical (or maybe literal, depending on how unpopular you are in the area) pitchforks right through your heart.

3. Mikey

Mikey wouldn't just.. outright kidnap his darling, I think. I think it would start with a fun sleepover at the lair! Then he insists you stay just one more day! You're having so much fun, after all! Don't you wanna hang out with your best friend for a while longer? You agree, of course- him and his brothers have been nothing but nice to you ever since you met them, and their company is always a delight, so it's worth a shot, isn't it? Then suddenly, the weekend is over, and school's ready to chew you up again, so you do leave. Then it's finally the weekend again! You've heard of a fun game from your school friends, so you plan on trying it when you get home this afternoon- it's friday, after all- when you get a text from Mikey in the group chat with his brothers. He wants you to come over again- and, of course, you say "sure". Not like you can't just play the game on sunday, or when you go home saturday. The sleepover flies by, but you're a bit weary by the time you're pretty sure you're supposed to go home- but here's Mikey, and he's so sure that you promised you'd stay at the lair until sunday again! So, you give in. There's always next weekend, right...? I think you get the pattern, but eventually, he'll be keeping you at the lair 24/7, and you'll be rubbing at your weary eyes wondering how you got into this mess. Sometimes you can even see his brothers shoot you worried looks.

4. Leo

Leo would only kidnap his darling as a last resort, and I think it's because of two reasons. One, he's the brother who sees you closest to being an equal (Donnie and Raph constantly go against your personal autonomy and Mikey puts you on an extremely restricting pedestal), though to be fair, that's not a high bar to pass- and two he much prefers to have some sort of interesting conflict to be present because he finds it entertaining. His life is a weird, morally incorrect soap opera at this point, and he's the number one viewer. Kidnapping would only really happen with him if he thought you were either seriously leaving him (moving or getting into a serious relationship with someone else) or if the circumstances around him got too stressful and he needed something to cling to for any semblance of support outside his brothers (who, at that point, would probably also be super stressed). Think post movie, when the city is still recovering. Man, he was probably freaking out thinking that you might've died to the kraang.

[willowser]

*this was—apparently—in my queue on my nsfw blog, and i must have scheduled it so far out so that it wasn't taking up room in my drafts, and the day that i scheduled it came to pass and it posted on a locked blog and i didn't even know about it until now hehe

i actually get a little sad, thinking of pro hero touya !! especially in the case of knowing him before it all, when he was still eighteen and scrawny, angst-fueled, acne on his cheeks 🥺

you're the first person he's ever had like this. you're not necessarily dating, because endeavor wouldn't allow such a possibility, such a distraction, but you walk with him after school and occasionally stay for dinner, sometimes come over to study on weekends. rei let you hang around until the early hours of the morning once, lazing on the couch with all her kids, watching movies while enji was on night patrol.

there isn't much time the two of you have to yourselves, outside of school and touya's siblings, so the relationship is platonic for the most part (save for the few brave late night texts that have been exchanged, the handful of goodbye kisses you've managed to sneak on his doorstep). the furthest it ever goes is on the couch upstairs, one weeknight when his dad is gone and everyone else is meant to be asleep.

it's hard, being that age and having to settle for hands held under the table, fleeting looks across the room when the tv goes dark. it freaks him out, too, wanting something—you, in more ways than one—when he knows his main focus should be graduation, his reputation, training. his future.

but you're so—comforting, and you couldn't care less about who his dad is or who touya is supposed to be one day; you're here, always, for who he is now. for his home-pierced lip and chipping nail polish and red, embarrassed cheeks. for just touya.

and so he really goes for it in the moment he can, manages to unbutton your shirt enough to slip his hand inside it. and he's never touched someone like this before, so even though you're shy about your simple, plain bra—he really isn't paying attention to that, just the tender weight of your breast in his hand. how soft and squishy it is.

by now, you've managed to figure out the kissing thing: it had been a bit awkward before—when to move his head, where to fit his nose—and it all had to be done quick, in case anyone was coming around the corner, and he really should still be worried about that, but his head is only full of you, you, you.

especially when you unzip his slacks enough to fit your hand, his whole body stiffening when your fingers brush the material of his boxers, touching him in a way he's only done to himself. it doesn't go too far—though touya is more than preparing himself to lose his virginity on this couch—but there's such severity to the want flowing through his veins, an intensity he'd never felt before then.

of course natsuo ruins it, by shouting at the top of his lungs that touya's got his pants down, even though he totally doesn't, and—

maybe that's all he gets from you, before his future finally comes for him.

gradation and becoming a side-kick, joining endeavor's agency, adjusting to the new hero life; it becomes a lot for him, and now that enji has the chance to be more heavily involved in touya's every step—he loses you along the way. gets swept up in the tide of fame and glory and all that his dad has ever wanted for him.

but i think—no matter how many people he sleeps with, how many people come in and out of his bed as the years pass, he'll never forget how he felt on that couch during that late night. how special you felt to him. how special he felt to you.

[sweetnsour1]

11:31

Fluff (I promise), Bakugou x fem reader

“We’re too similar.” You had trouble meeting the fiery gaze trying to pierce through your determination.

“And that’s…bad?” You ignore the hesitation, refusing to let it alter your course.

“Apparently.” The table groans under his tightening grip, but you pretend not to notice. “I can’t stand being someone that’s keeping you from being happier…from being the best.”

“Losing you would not make me happier.”

Your smile has never felt heavier. You’re not even sure if it makes any visible change to your face.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Damn, it always gets you when he’s straightforward like that.

“You know…We give everything out there.”

“Fuck yes, we do.”

“And it’s not enough.”

“That’s not-“ You can hear a small shift in his tone. He’s finally understanding how serious you are. He lets you cut him off.

“It is true. And we can’t keep doing things this way.”

“We can-“

“I can’t keep doing things this way.”

“So you want to just give up?”

“I don’t want to give up on this…on us. But being with you like this…hurts. So yea, we shouldn’t be together.”

“No. We can beat these assholes this time. I fucking know it.” His hands slam on the table just as everyone knowingly picks up their glasses. The usual routine for avoiding any spills.

“Kinda fucked up for the host to call us assholes.” Sero tapes his glass to the table, grabbing something from the mountain of snacks piled on the table.

“I’m not hosting shit. You extras decided to show up here.”

“If you read your texts, you’d know that you have the biggest living room. Charades is better here.”

“Icy hot and De-Izuku have bigger places.”

Mina offers another eye roll, while gathering the energy to reply again.

“If you read your texts, you’d know that Todoroki’s place didn’t have enough props and Deku has too many breakables…that he cries if we break.”

“So let’s vote. Hands up if we are doing men vs women this time…hands down if we are going to let Bakugou’s tantrum get him what he wants?” You’re a little surprised at Momo’s sass, but are even more surprised at the way Todoroki chuckles at her. You’ll have to grill her about that later.

Bakugou huffed, crossing his arms and sliding down into his chair. The rest of the table began exchanging seats before hands even went up. You felt a twinge of guilt as you stood, smiling gently at the pouting hero.

“Can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”

You let your hand slide through his hair and down his neck as you walked around him to the other side of the room. He turned the moment you hesitated, grabbing your wrist. You laughed, leaning down as he tugged you to him.

“Am I forgiven already?”

“Absolutely fucking not, traitor. How am I supposed to win with you over there?”

“If you lose, I’ll make it up to you later.” His smile got wider and you started to worry what he was planning. His expression changed after an elbow from Kirishima reminded him how many people were in the room. He kissed your wrist before releasing you to the enemies lining up on his sectional.

You heard Kaminari pick up the conversation as you walked away.

“So what do I get if iiiii win?”

“You get to leave my house in one piece, idiot.”

Just random brain rot. Enjoy

Masterlist

[cece693]

The Better Brother (Damon Salvatore x M! Reader)

A small pet peeve of mine regarding Damon Salvatore fics is how people sometimes gloss over the wave of self loathing this man possesses. Since childhood he's had to bear constant comparisons with Stefan—how he wasn't enough, not as kind, etc.—so in my mind, if he does find someone he would absolutely push them away. That gave rise to this fic!

Summary: Damon finally found the one, however, thoughts of self-hatred and the constant comparison to his 'better' brother had him doubting if he even was deserving of such future.

tags: sad, in my feelings, break up, Damon thinking he's underserving, self hatred

Damon leaned against the bar of the Mystic Grill, the amber liquid in his glass catching the dim light. He swirled the bourbon absently, his mind not on the drink but on the man standing at the dartboard, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he teased Stefan for his missed throw.

M/N had come into Damon’s life like a hurricane—wild, passionate, and with a kindness that made him feel human for the first time in decades. He wasn’t supposed to fall this hard. But now that he had, every insecurity Damon carried weighed heavier on him.

He drained the glass and set it down with a little too much force, drawing a glance from M/N. Damon met his eyes and forced a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his own. M/N tilted his head, his expression softening with concern, and made his way back over. ��What’s got you brooding over here?” he teased, bumping Damon’s shoulder as he slid onto the stool beside him.

Damon shrugged, reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. “Just thinking about how life is unfairly cruel to us handsome, brooding types.”

M/N didn’t laugh. He didn’t fall for Damon’s deflections anymore.

“You’ve been distant all week,” he noted, his voice quieter now. “What’s really going on?”

Damon’s grip on the glass tightened. He hated how easily M/N saw through him, hated how good he was for him. And most of all, he hated himself for ruining what they had before it could even bloom. But Damon knew how this story ended. It was always the same. Stefan was the hero, the savior, the one who got the happy ending. Damon was the shadow lurking behind, destined to lose.

“You should go back to your darts game,” Damon said, his voice cold now, deliberately so. “I’m fine.”

M/N stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. “I know you don’t believe this, but you don’t have to push me away every time you get scared, Damon.”

Scared.

The word stung because it was true.

Later that night, Damon found himself alone in the Salvatore boarding house. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room, but its warmth didn’t reach him. He sat on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees, a photograph clutched in his hand.

In the photo, they were both smiling—genuine, unguarded. Damon hardly recognized himself in that moment, caught off guard by M/N’s infectious energy. The picture had been taken at the Mystic Falls Winter Festival, a day Damon had reluctantly agreed to attend. M/N had dragged him to the Ferris wheel, teasing him about being afraid of heights.

Damon hadn’t been afraid—not of the heights, at least. But the way M/N had looked at him at the top, with so much trust and warmth, had sent a different kind of fear coursing through him. For a brief moment, suspended in the sky with M/N’s laughter ringing in his ears, it felt like the world wasn’t so bleak.

He clenched his jaw and stared at the photograph for a long time, his fingers trembling slightly. “You don’t deserve this,” he muttered to himself. “You don’t deserve him.”

With a sharp breath, he shoved the picture into the drawer of the side table and slammed it shut. This was the right thing to do. Even if it hurt. Even if it tore him apart.

The next day, Stefan found Damon in the parlor. The sunlight streaming through the windows only emphasized how wrecked the oldest Salvatore looked. He was slouched in the armchair, a near-empty bottle of bourbon in front of him, his eyes distant and unfocused, as if he had been staring into nothingness for hours.

“What did you do?” Stefan’s voice cut through the oppressive silence of the room, sharp and demanding.

Damon let out a low chuckle, the sound bitter and hollow. “Relax, Saint Stefan,” he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I did you a favor.”

Stefan’s brows furrowed as he stepped closer, his tone tightening with frustration. “What the hell does that mean?”

Damon finally lifted his gaze, his trademark smirk flickering onto his face. “He’s all yours now,” he said, the words carrying a mix of resignation and self-loathing.

He didn’t need to ask to know what Damon meant. “You broke up with him,” Stefan said, his tone flat, more a statement than a question.

Damon shrugged, his nonchalance forced and brittle. “Better for everyone that way,” he muttered, grabbing the bottle and taking another swig.

Stefan wasn’t having it. He crossed the room in two strides and snatched the bottle from Damon’s hand, setting it firmly on the table out of reach. “Better for everyone or better for you?” he snapped, his voice cutting through Damon’s feigned indifference.

Damon’s smirk flickered. He slouched further into the chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t get all noble on me, brother. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? A clean slate? No more complications? No more me standing in the way?”

Stefan stared at him, incredulous. “You really think I wanted this? That I wanted you to destroy the best thing that’s ever happened to you?”

“Spare me the lecture, Stefan,” Damon said, his tone sharp, though it lacked its usual bite. “He’ll be fine. Hell, he’ll probably thank me someday.”

Stefan shook his head, his frustration mounting. “You don’t get it, do you? M/N doesn’t want me. He never has. He chose you, Damon. And instead of fighting for him, you pushed him away because you’re too much of a coward to believe you deserve him.”

Damon’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists on the armrests of the chair. “Coward? Is that what you think I am?”

“Yes,” Stefan shot back without hesitation. “You’re so scared of being happy, of someone actually loving you for who you are, that you’d rather sabotage it before they can leave you. You think that’s noble? It’s not. It’s pathetic.”

Damon stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he loomed over Stefan. “Don’t you dare lecture me about love, Stefan. You’ve been handed every happy ending on a silver platter while I’ve had to fight for scraps.”

“And this time, you didn’t even fight,” Stefan countered, his voice soft but firm. “You just gave up. And you hurt him in the process.”

Damon’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him as quickly as it had come. He turned away, staring into the dying embers of the fireplace. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “He deserves better. Better than me.”

“Maybe that’s not your choice to make, Damon. Maybe he already decided that you’re what he wants. And maybe…just maybe, you should let yourself believe it.”

Damon didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The words sat heavy in his chest, pressing against the fragile walls he’d built around his heart. He clenched his jaw, his eyes burning as he stared into the fire, willing the tears to stay where they were. Stefan sighed, his frustration softening into something closer to pity. “You’re going to regret this,” he said quietly. “And when you do, I just hope it’s not too late.”

He turned and left the room, leaving Damon alone once again.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire. Damon sank back into his chair, staring at the empty spot on the table where the bourbon bottle had been.

Deep down, he knew Stefan was right.

But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

And that was the curse of being Damon Salvatore.

[maidflowery]

POV: You...

Aventurine x Reader

Good Night, a Million Loves 🂠 Illustrated 🂠

The two of you had just started going steady, but you noticed that Aventurine was holding back around you. Partly because you were easily flustered. You wanted to be bolder! You wanted to be the one who initiated from time to time! As such, you had to practice! What better way was there besides sneakily planting kisses on Aventurine while he was asleep?

With the determination of a brave hero about to have the last showdown with the Demon King, you marched toward the master bedroom of the unnecessarily huge penthouse, ascending the needlessly long spiral staircase.

As you got closer, your march quieted down to a tiptoe. Nevertheless, your resolve remained the same. It was what on the inside that mattered.

You stood in front of the door, pondering whether or not to knock.

In the end, you decided against it.

Aventurine was probably asleep already.

After spending the night a few times with him, you noticed that after an exhausting day at work, he’d usually fall asleep the moment he touched the bed.

Besides, you weren’t supposed to be here in the first place.

Your assigned room was all the way down the seemingly endless spiral staircase, to the left of the hall. Not only was it furnished according to your preferences, it was also filled to the brim with the latest, trendiest furniture. Moreover, the clothes in the walk-in(!) closet would be replaced every week. Of course, they were also designer goods.

The mattress was the fluffiest one you’d ever felt in your entire life. It was stuffed with swan feathers, and according to Aventurine, each feather was meticulously handpicked for its finest quality. Heck, the swan was probably sent by God for this important mission and sang every time a feather was plucked.

So why were you here instead of the cocoon of your heavenly bedroom?

First off, you already told him that room was way over the top!

...As for the second, it had a little to do with the fact that your relationship wasn’t progressing at all. And the fact that you slept in a separate bedroom had everything to do with that.

I mean, I did ask him that we should take it slow...

But apparently, ‘slow’ to Aventurine meant stopping altogether.

Well, not completely. You guys would still often go on a date, and whenever you spent the night with him, the two of you would always cuddle and watch movies...

But, but, snuggling, sometimes lap sitting, chaste kisses... and then a head pat before he went to bed?! Really?!

Aventurine was by no means inexperienced. Actually, it was him showing how experienced he was that got you here.

As they said, some things changed, some things stayed the same. Even after the two of you had gone steady, you were still the same old you from before dating. The same old you, who'd get so embarrassed you nearly had a heart attack every time he made an advance on you.

This can’t go on...!

You’d lose the right to call yourself his girlfriend at this rate! No, by this point, calling yourself his newly adopted cat would be more appropriate!

Which is why...!

Practice makes perfect! Goodbye, old you—welcome, new you!

You quietly pushed his door open. Previously, he said to you, ‘I’ll keep my bedroom door unlocked for you’—whatever that meant. True to his words, it opened without resistance. And as expected of an expensive door, it didn’t creak in the slightest.

Thus, you found yourself inside Aventurine’s bedroom. Of course, as his girlfriend, it wasn’t the first time you’d stepped inside his room. It was the third, actually.

The bedroom was a breathtaking blend of elegance and minimalism. It stretched out with vast, open space, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that flood the room with natural light and offered sweeping views of the night sky.

To one side, a custom-designed floating nightstand made of smooth marble housed a single, delicate vase with an orchid, perfectly balancing simplicity and luxury. Opposite the bed, an oversized mirror with a slim, brushed-gold frame reflects the natural light, enhancing the room's sense of openness.

At the center, a low-profile king-sized bed with crisp white linens and a subtly textured duvet, while the bed's sleek, matte black frame added a touch of sophistication. The bed sits on a plush, light-colored rug that extends across the gleaming hardwood floors, anchoring the room’s minimalist aesthetic.

In the middle of the bed, almost sinking into the pure white sheet, was a blond-haired man.

You approached the bed, but when you saw his figure, sound asleep, you reflexively spun around, covering your face.

Abort! Abort!

His pajamas! Was wide open! He was practically half-naked!

Young man—! Have the decency to cover yourself up—!

Your face started burning, the visage of Aventurine sleeping without a care, his bare torso fully exposed for the world to see, was seared into your memory.

Broad chest. Well-defined abs, each muscle sharply etched as if carved from stone. Slender waist, without excess fat. Even when you closed your eyes, you could still see them vividly!

But knowing Aventurine, after his late-night shower, he probably just couldn’t be bothered to wear clothes properly.

...In the first place, you were the intruder here. What right did you have to complain about his state of undress?

You couldn’t help but notice that the air conditioner blew a steady stream of cold air into the room.

“Geez. What if he catches a cold?”

You muttered quietly, trying to find a blanket. A brown velvet blanket lay near his feet, likely kicked off in his sleep, maybe because he felt too hot.

Then, just as you were about to tuck him in and call it a day, a thought crossed your mind.

R-right. I can start by practicing with a goodnight kiss! The one on the forehead!

You’d come this far. Wouldn't it be a waste to back down now? Besides, it was just a forehead kiss, anyway!

Slowly, you put one knee on the bed, then the other, careful not to make any noise as you climbed on top of him. You placed both of your hands on each side of his head, supporting yourself so that you didn’t rest against his body. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Aventurine was still sleeping soundly despite all that.

Under such a close proximity, where you could count his individual eyelash, you took in the sight of his sleeping face. You swooned without realizing. He looked so innocent and, dare you say, defenseless...?

As the one towering over him right now, you didn’t feel guilty or self-conscious or anything.

Since he was turning to the side, every time he exhaled, his warm breath caressed your wrist, tickling your skin.

Anyway, let’s do this.

You didn’t want to overstay your welcome. What if he woke up? How were you going to explain THIS?

You parted his wavy, golden bangs, the dainty locks as smooth as a silken thread. Then, as you brought your face closer to his, you stopped.

Once again, you came to realize how breathtakingly gorgeous he was.

“...This princely face belongs to a charlatan, huh?” You mumbled.

Perhaps this practice wouldn’t be so hard, after all.

Be it his long eyelashes, tall nose bridge, well-shaped, slightly parted red lips, minus his trademark smug grin... you wanted to kiss them all.

After placing a soft kiss on his smooth forehead, inhaling the fragrance of his shampoo, your lips trailed down his eyelids, his nose, then his cheek. It faintly tasted of soap. His lips were still out of your league.

Then, your gaze landed on his neck. To be precise, a certain tattoo on the left side of it.

‘SLAVE’

The word was written in standard letters, as if to make this man’s status obvious to everyone, regardless of whether they spoke the language. Obviously, it wasn't there by choice. Instead, he was branded like a cattle.

Without a doubt, many sad, harrowing memories were associated with it. You didn’t know why he never opted to erase it. Perhaps because he couldn’t care less. Or perhaps... as a reminder.

Even just looking at it felt excruciating. You wanted to erase it if you could. This tattoo. His tragic past. But at the same time, it was what made him him. So, you hated it as much as you loved it.

With such complicated feelings swirling inside your chest, you pressed your lips against his tattoo.

“Mmh—...”

Perhaps a tad too strongly. Because this time, Aventurine stirred. You quickly withdrew a bit.

He muttered something under his breath, which you didn’t fail to catch.

It was your name.

—!

Your heart was pounding heavily inside your chest.

Then, while burying his face within his pillow, Aventurine mumbled, “...The foods inside the fridge. If it’s still not enough... Call the chef...” He trailed off, falling asleep once again.

“...”

What was that about?

Did he mistake you for one of his cat critters? But he clearly said your name... So, he thought you were pestering him because you were hungry?! What, you were his cat now?!

You wouldn’t deny that you have a huge, almost ravenous appetite, but this was just too much!

“...Ah!”

Aventurine suddenly gasped and tensed up, probably—no, most likely—because you’d bitten his clavicle. Briefly, his eyes snapped open, but they were glazed over.

W-wait, what am I doing right now?!

If you wanted to prevent him from waking up, this definitely wasn't the way!

Thus, you gently brushed your lips over the spot you’d just bitten, as if trying to kiss it away. A crimson hue had appeared there, a testament to your sin.

My bad! Please go back to sleep, please go back to sleep...

While praying that inwardly, you continued to lavish attention on that spot while glancing at his face. Aventurine didn’t show signs of waking up.

What a relief...

Now was probably your chance to slip away. But still...

It smells so nice...

As you rested your chin against his sturdy chest, planting soft kisses all over his supple skin, you inhaled his scent. A refreshing blend of minty soap fragrance and him.

Just a bit more, should be okay, right...?

Without realizing it, your lips glided down to the thin space between his chest.

The scent seems to be most concentrated here...

Then down to his pecs. And down again.

Just as you faintly placed a kiss right above his navel...

“...You just don’t know when to stop, do you?”

You heard a raspy voice clouded with sleep right overhead.

...F*ck.

When you lifted your face, you found a pair of violet-cyan eyes piercing straight at you. They burned with silent, intense desire, which the owner seemed to desperately reign in.

“What are you doing...?”

He breathlessly asked, eyes never leaving you as he clutched his head, processing the sight before him.

“G-good night, Aventurine! I just dropped by to give you some goodnight kisses! Sleep well now! Nighty-night!”

Caught red-handed, you went on autopilot and blurted it out. But when you tried to escape, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, holding you in a crushing embrace against his upper body.

“Could've fooled me. Now, if you say that you wanted to rile me up instead...”

Is he angry because I disturbed his sleep?

“So-sorry—...!!”

At first, you wanted to apologize, but a certain hardness that had been pressing against your belly made you realize that probably wasn’t what he meant by ‘rile him up.’ Immediately, heat spread across your face like wildfire.

Pressed against his chest, you couldn’t see his expression, but you could feel his hands roaming around. First, combing your hair, then stroking your back, then caressing your waist. His actions screamed confusion, as if he had reached his limit but didn't know how to unleash it.

Burying his nose into your hair, Aventurine asked, “Do you know the saying ‘don’t sleep the disturbing beast?’”

“It’s ‘don’t disturb the sleeping beast.’ Aventurine, you’re clearly tired, go back to sleep.”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s sleep together.”

“S-sounds good! Good night?”

You snuggled up against his chest, trying your best to ignore the rigidity poking your stomach.

“Good night.”

Aventurine whispered huskily, kissing your forehead as he tightened his grip around you.

“—Is that what you expected me to say?”

Then, in an instant, your worldview did a complete 180. Somehow, you found yourself laying on the bed, with Aventurine towering over you. Heat seemed to radiate from every inch of his body.

His multi-colored eyes were fixed on you, glinting like those of a ferocious beast that had cornered its prey.

“...Unfortunately, I’m no sweet prince.”

He heard that—?!

In his eyes, you could see your extremely panicked expression.

Flashing you his arrogant grin, Aventurine licked his lips.

“As someone said, I’m just a charlatan.”

Well, shit—!! Was he awake the whole time—?!

“A-Aventurine, listen... I really was just trying to give you a goodnight kiss! Well, some...”

“And I'm the densest man alive! Let's see... You came all the way here, climbed into my bed, and kissed me all over. I'd say the message is pretty clear."

Saying that, Aventurine’s lips came crashing down on you—

“—Mmph!”

To which you immediately blocked his mouth with both of your hands.

“Wait, wait, wait—!”

My mental preparation!

“I’ve waited long enough.” Aventurine said, gently but firmly removing your hands. His fingers slid to your wrist, tightening around it like a cuff.

He kissed and lightly gnawed on your hand, as if trying to release the heat swelling inside him bit by bit. Then, he cursed under his breath—it didn’t seem to be working.

Then, as his eyes bore into you, gleaming with wild, mysterious glint, he asked you.

“...And here I went through the trouble of assigning you a room all the way down there. Hey, do you know why?”

His tone was cheerful, as if he was quizzing you. But you knew that the closer he was to losing control, the lighter his tone became.

“No...? What does that have to do with anything...?”

Didn’t he just assign you whatever room was available?

As if reading your mind, Aventurine chimed in. “No, of course not. Otherwise, I wouldn't have disabled the elevator and installed that unnecessarily long staircase in the first place."

“You did WHAT—?! You remodeled the penthouse—?! Since when—?!”

“Ever since you started sleeping over.”

“...Why?”

Why do all those pointless things...?

“Hmm.” Aventurine sighed. He looked like a teacher who was fed up with a student who refused to understand, even after everything had been spelled out for them.

Then, he broke into a wide, devilish grin.

"Truly, innocence is bliss."

“Huh...?”

“Alright, I’ll give you a choice.”

“C-choice?”

Despite his question, he seemed to be the one weighing his options. His gaze said it all. ‘What am I going to do with you?’

“To make sweet love with an innocent vanilla prince, or whatever it was, or be claimed by this charlatan.”

He’ll never let me live it down, will he? Also, either way, it’s the same! Tonight, we’re going to-to...

Well, it wasn’t your first time! But every time, although he was by no means rough, he always turned things up to eleven, leaving you aching and unable to forget.

In short, Aventurine and the words "innocent" and "vanilla" were as far apart as Neptune and the Sun!!

To bide your time, you asked him some questions.

“W-what do you even know about the first one, anyway?!”

“Oh, you’ll be surprised.”

“Be more specific?!”

“You get to be on top?”

...That’s his definition of a sweet prince? Aventurine, you...

You gave him a judging look, but Aventurine paid you no heed and leaned down.

Settling his face near your breasts, he bit at the white ribbon on the center of your chemise. It was a pure white chemise with subtle frills and lace designs. Of course, it came with the room Aventurine provided for you.

“What are you doing—?! Ah, hey—!”

As you shrieked, he tugged at the ribbon with his teeth. Then, the ribbon—no, the whole chemise—came undone, falling to each side of your body like the wings of a spread butterfly.

“Wha—?!”

Why did it slide open so easily?!

“Hmm...?”

You were surprised, and so was Aventurine. Of course, for a different reason.

“...You’re wearing underwear beneath the lingerie? Who does that during a night raid? Interesting choice."

Your bra was in full view. You panicked and started covering yourself.

“Of course I’m wearing one! What night raid?! There’s no such thing in the first place!”

You still couldn’t get over how easily it fell off like that, leaving you with your last stronghold.

“Also, why did it come undone so easily?! With one tug of a ribbon?! The heck?!”

“Because I especially requested it to be that way, duh.”

Aventurine gave you an innocent smile, sliding his hand down your back.

Clink!

“Ah...!”

With that, your bra too, came undone. Aventurine deftly yanked it to the side, and it slipped right under your grasp, falling to the floor. All that remained were your hands, which stubbornly covered your chest, and your panties.

His hand left your back, softly tracing a path to your waist, then rested on your belly.

“By the way, you haven’t answered yet.”

“Nng...”

Locking eyes with you, Aventurine rested his face against his hand. With his other hand, he rhythmically rapped his fingertips against your stomach, as if counting time. His touches were ticklish, like the gentle sweep of a soft brush. Feeling butterflies in your stomach, you couldn’t help but gasp.

“So, which is it?”

Right, he asked a question...

Amidst the irresistible ticklishness, you recalled his question from before. And the way his gaze saddened when you asked about the prince.

Did he misunderstand? Did he take it as you calling his methods rough?

Then, you finally found your voice.

“...The first one.”

“Mm,” Aventurine murmured in assent, his gaze slightly downcast.

“...or the second one, doesn’t matter. I love every side of you.”

“...!”

He lit-up, his violet-cyan eyes regained their luminosity.

So, you weren’t mistaken after all.

But then, Aventurine did something unexpected.

“...I’d like to apologize beforehand.”

Huh? Why is he apologizing all of the sudden?

Briefly, you thought he was suggesting that the two of you should just snuggle and go to sleep after all.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can be gentle.”

As he drew closer to you, you could see an ever-burning blue flame blazing within his gaze. His hand traveled down, reaching for the last piece of clothing on your body.

Then, just as your lips were about to touch...

...Aventurine stopped. Even his hand merely rested on your waist.

With every ounce of rationality and self-control he could muster, Aventurine endured the raging fire within him. As he stared straight into your eyes, an uncharacteristic look of hesitation and doubt appeared on his face.

You truly did not expect that from the perpetually smiling gambler.

“—That’s why... if you want to stop, now is your chance.”

Yet, you knew that he was just afraid of hurting you.

Him agreeing to take it slow. The separate rooms. The long staircase.

Thus, you sat up, smiled, and kissed him on the lips.

His eyes widened instantly. After all, it was the first time you had kissed him on your own.

The kiss should've been brief, but he refused to let it end. He pursued you down, the mattress sinking under your weight. Before you knew it, he was fiercely gnawing and sucking on your lips, hardly allowing you to catch your breath.

Then, in-between the kisses that you couldn't tell when they began or ended, he whispered...

“Me, too.”

He grasped your hand firmly, intertwining his fingers with yours, as if preventing your escape. Yet, it felt as if he was clinging to you in dear life instead.

As if he was afraid you'd disappear in the next second.

Your mind was blank, but you could feel something slid down your legs as he spoke beside your ear:

“I love you, too.”

This whisper, a rare moment of honesty from the blond gambler, soon faded amid a cacophony of noises.

The next day, you were being princess-carried by Aventurine down the long-ass stairs.

The two of you were about to get “breakfast.” Yes, breakfast, even though the sun was almost setting outside the window. You just woke up, okay?!

"...Still, to think that my usually shy and demure girlfriend would make a move on me like that! I was so afraid I'd wake up and find it was just a dream!"

Beside you, Aventurine was happily recounting last night’s tale. He seemed so full of vigor, he was basically sparkling.

...Just how?

Huh? The two of you were now huddled so close, sticking to each other like a lovey-dovey newlywed couple after what happened last night, you ask?

...No, it was because you couldn’t walk, dammit!!!

Even the slightest sway as he descended each flight of stairs sent a stinging pain to your waist.

Curse it! Curse Aventurine and his prowess!

“—Just, just how many stairs are there...?” You asked amid the crippling exhaustion. Even your voice was hoarse.

You couldn’t believe you just climbed all those stairs last night. No wonder it felt so tiring, and you had to take a few breaks.

“There are precisely 88 steps. You see, whenever you spend the night, I always take a slow walk down these stairs, counting each one.”

What’s with that weird hobby? Is this one of those 'Rich People Daily Routines That Made Them Millionaires' or something?

Also, what does that have to do with me sleeping over?

“—Then, poof. The urge to barge into your room disappears.”

“Huh? Wait, what—”

“I wonder what’s for breakfast~”

Set before the story:

Read more stories

Buy me coffee ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

[lucky-clover-gazette]

(for the request thing) sometimes i wonder how Volo would feel/react if someone (like arceus’s chosen 👀) took a blow for him from a wild Pokemon or another person. From his perspective, Volo doesn’t have anyone in Hisui that cares about his wellbeing, and the game alludes to him having a troubled and lonely past, and with him having planned on erasing all life in Hisui in pursuit of his desires, would he feel guilt if someone showed him a level of care that would make them sacrifice their safety for his, when he was ready to potentially sacrifice them for his own sake when it came to Arceus?

(also wanna say ive loved your fics on Ao3, so talented <3)

(also on ao3)

You really prefer not to die in front of other people.

The edges of your vision darken as you shove Volo aside, taking the full force of the Alpha Vespiqueen’s attack. You manage the subdue your attacker with a well-aimed sticky glob and ultra ball, but not before suffering an undoubtedly fatal blow.

The consummate merchant comes to you at once, leaning over your fallen body with an oddly indecipherable expression. Usually Volo is abundantly obvious with his feelings, whether he’s passionately rambling about ruins or earnestly praising your efforts as the hero of Hisui. But the man you see now, as your vision begins to blur, simply stares.

“Caught it,” you brag.

His grey eyes widen slightly. You haven’t shared this with him, but you’ve always found them rather beautiful.

“You shouldn’t have…”

“Saved you?” you ask with a dry chuckle. “That’s why I’m here, remember?”

Volo furrows his brow. Reaches out to touch you, then pulls his hand back.

“I sincerely apologize,” he tells you, bowing his head. “If you are to perish in these circumstances, you deserve to know—”

You die and can’t hear the rest.

And then you open your eyes.

You stand on your feet now, in the last place you felt safe before the Pokémon’s attack. Volo still kneels in the distance, seemingly unaware that your body has been replaced by a fallen satchel containing your entire supply of ultraballs, a fire stone, and exactly four medicinal leeks.

You frown. This is going to be awkward.

“Hey, buddy,” you say, coming up carefully behind him. Volo’s back goes rigid at the sound of your voice, his head turning around at once.

“You—you!!”

You rub the back of your neck, sheepish. “Surprise?”

“You died!” Volo exclaims with an accusatory finger-point. “I just saw—” His head swivels to the satchel on the ground, then he turns back to you. “How?”

You sigh and sit down beside him. “Chosen One perk. I die, Arceus says my work isn’t finished yet, I get another shot. It happened for the first time when I fought Lord Kleavor. I had no idea what I was doing, and it took like a dozen tries before I got good.”

Volo looks horrified. “You’ve died a dozen times?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why—”

“My death count’s definitely in the triple digits now. Lord Arcanine was ten times worse than Kleavor, because of all the fire and bullshit arena. At least Lady Liligant was a total pushover.”

“Did it not hurt?” demands Volo, his face growing noticeably pale.

“Oh, it totally hurt,” you admit. “But somebody’s got to deal with it, and I’m the only one around here who’s been made invulnerable by God.”

Volo looks as if he’s been slapped. You suppose that’s fair, considering the shock of witnessing your death and resurrection. But to you, this really is just another Tuesday.

“I know it’s disturbing,” you sigh, putting a hand on his shoulder. His muscles are tense. “That’s why I try my best to make sure people aren’t around to see it. Just easier that way, you know?”

Volo wears another unreadable expression.

“Sucks to lose a satchel, though,” you say, lightly. “Thanks for keeping an eye on it. Without witnesses, I usually lose some of my stuff. Never the plates, though, don’t worry.”

He still looks lost in his thoughts, which is no good. You don’t know how to explain that this happens all the time, for much less important reasons than protecting your favorite person on Hisui. The pain is a small price to pay for his safety, and you’d readily pay it again.

“I thought you died,” Volo eventually says. “Saving my life.”

You elbow him playfully. “I guess Arceus is looking out for you too.”

His expression darkens. “No.”

“No?”

He looks you dead in the eyes, with a different sort of intensity than you’ve come to expect from the eccentric wanderer. “Under an unjust god, endless life is endless pain. Do you truly wish that for yourself? For the world?”

Distantly, you wonder what exactly Volo had thought you deserved to know before your presumed demise. You have a feeling he’s not going to tell you now.

You offer him a hand. “Well, unless you’ve got a better god laying around somewhere, I think we’re stuck with what we’ve got.” And I like what I’ve got, you absolutely do not tell the merchant. I like that I’m here with you.

Volo still seems distracted, but he takes your hand anyway. “Right,” he mutters, and then smiles. “We live to fight another day.”

You rub your thumb against the side of his hand. “And maybe someday, we won’t have to fight. We’ll have everything we need.”

You can picture it, with him. You wonder, maybe foolishly, if he might feel the same way.

Supporting you is actually an investment in my own fortunes, Volo had told you once.

You would protect him regardless of your personal relationship, of course. Just as you protect the rest of this world. You want things to be better, for everyone, and intend to use your god-given powers to ensure that your dream becomes reality.

Volo nods, his sharp gaze fixed on your joined hands. A chill runs down your spine as he squeezes.

“Yes,” he agrees. “Someday.”

You smile softly.

“I think I can live with that.”

[onceuponastory]

ball of fluff - bucky barnes

Plot: Bucky tells Y/N how he met Alpine. Pairing: BestFriends!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (but maybe there's something more there... 👀 it's me, of course there is) Warnings: A few mentions of Bucky's past as The Winter Soldier, and how we was used and controlled without his consent. Also includes mentions of how Bucky hates himself for what he did, and the nightmares he has. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: Hey, I finally finished a WIP, hahaha. And it's another episode of "this was supposed to be a drabble but it's over 1k words."

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

“Morning.” Y/N smiles, walking into the kitchen at Avengers HQ. The room is mostly empty, aside from Bucky. He lounges on the couch, scrolling through his phone and laughing to himself about something on the screen. When Y/N sits beside him, he murmurs a greeting before immediately going back to laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, it’s just Alpine.” Bucky replies. “Look, I got him a new toy mouse a few days ago, and he’s already destroyed it.” He grins, holding out his phone to show her the picture. Y/N leans in, laughing when she sees the picture, especially the satisfied look on Alpine’s face. It’s nice, seeing Bucky laughing like this, sounding so happy. Although, it is a little weird.

Because Bucky looks so intimidating usually, the master of a death glare. And yet here he is, making cute cooing noises and laughing over pictures of his cat like a completely different person from what history and the news will tell you. But she likes this version of Bucky a lot.

Well, she likes everything to do with Bucky Barnes a lot. Like the way he always makes her heart skip a beat, or how she always has a lovesick smile on her face whenever she’s around him. She just can’t bring herself to tell him that though.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Y/N asks, her brow raised. “How did you find Alpine?” Bucky’s own brows furrow.

“You’re asking that like it’s a weird question.”

“I just mean, knowing you, I thought you found him on a mission somewhere and rescued him from an evil base, from some supervillain like in James Bond.” She chuckles. “Screw damsels in distress, you rescue cats in distress!” She grins.

“What is it you actually think I do?” Bucky raises a brow, yet can’t stop another grin from tugging at the corner of his mouth. A sight that makes Y/N’s smile grow just that little wider. God, she’s got it bad.

“You know, superhero stuff.” Y/N shrugs, and Bucky chuckles.

“Well, I may be a hero, but I found Alpine in a perfectly normal way.…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

One year ago….

The room is filled with noise, and Bucky awkwardly fiddles with his gloves. He really should take them off at some point. New year, new him and all that. And, of course, being pardoned helps as well. That one might take a little longer, though. This task is small, and manageable. Although, when you have spent your entire life being used as a weapon and fighting space monsters on the regular, everything seems minor in comparison.

Right now though, it feels huge, like when they first faced down Thanos for the first time. Or when he came back to earth after being gone for five years and became a man out of time all over again. 

“Hello sir, how can I help you?” The voice of a staff member makes him jump slightly. He’s still not used to this, to being noticed and to being someone, to being Bucky Barnes, rather than a weapon used and controlled without his consent. Rather than The Winter Soldier.

To be honest, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be used to it. 

“Hi. I was thinking of getting a pet. I was thinking about a cat, but I’m open to anything, really.” Of course Bucky doesn’t tell him it’s because he’s so alone, and thinks he might lose his mind again if he’s alone any longer. The nights get so lonely sometimes, especially with as many nightmares that he has. Being alone with his thoughts, forced to confront what he did for so long every night, is his own personal hell. A punishment he wouldn’t wish on anyone. Maybe being responsible for another life, rather than taking it away, will be good for him.

That is, if he doesn’t fuck this up, too.

“Of course, sir.” The man smiles, beckoning for Bucky to follow, which he does. “We have plenty of cats available, from kittens to seniors. Do you have any specific breed in mind? Any age or gender?” 

All the questions make Bucky furrow his brows together. Choosing a cat seems to be harder than he thought. Obviously, he wasn’t expecting to just walk in and for someone to just hand him a cat, but still. “Not really.” The staff member nods, smiling.

“That’s totally fine. You’re not the first who just wants to walk around. I’ll show you what we have, and we can go from there.”

Bucky looks at every variety of cat and kitten at the shelter. They’re all adorable, but none of them feel right, like his cat. Suddenly, he sees a little white ball of fluff curled up against the corner of a cage. They don’t even move when Bucky approaches. “Who’s this?” He asks.

“That’s Alpine.” Alpine looks up, looking for whoever came to see him. His blue eyes stare at Bucky for a moment, and he cocks his head to the left slightly before burying his face back into his fur. “Sorry, he’s really shy. We’re not sure if he likes people that much.” Bucky chuckles. Well, at least he sounds like him. Bucky doesn't like people that much either. Maybe this’ll be a good match after all. “Do you want to see some more cats?” The staff member asks, but Bucky keeps staring at Alpine, watching as his little head pops up again, checking to see if the stranger outside his cage has gone. 

“Hey there, buddy.” He whispers, smiling. He expects him to curl away from him again, but to his surprise, he takes a few steps forward towards him, tentatively sniffing the air, then Bucky’s gloved hand. Bucky chuckles, murmuring an “aww.” to himself as Alpine brushes his head against his fingers, nuzzling into them and purring. 

“Wow! He rarely does this. You must be special.” Yet the man’s voice fades out as Bucky and Alpine make eye contact. At Christmas time, Sam and his nephews showed him that movie The Grinch, where his heart grows three sizes after he discovers the true meaning of Christmas. Originally, Bucky wrote that off as cheesy nonsense, but now he feels it happening for real as he looks at this tiny little cat. He smiles. He’s perfect.

“I’ll take him.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Brought him home about a week later, and the rest is history.” Bucky smiles.

“Oh. My. God.” Y/N gasps. “That’s so cute. Turns out you’re just a big softie deep down, huh, Buck?” She chuckles. Bucky flushes pink, and Y/N continues to grin. 

“Don’t say a word.” Bucky hisses, but Y/N keeps laughing and smiling. And despite how much he wants to keep it cool, and act like it’s not affecting him, Bucky can’t help but laugh. Because she’s right. Sometimes (more often than he’d like to admit) Bucky hangs onto his Winter Soldier persona, using it like a mask to hide behind. After all, it’s better than having to meet new people all the time, and to actually make relationships with people. People who could disappoint him, or leave him when things got too hard. Nobody would ever go near him if they thought he was still like that, still an asshole who would kill you if you looked the wrong way at him.

But with Y/N… he doesn’t want to hide himself anymore. She makes him the happiest he’s ever been in a long time, and brings out the best parts of him, the parts he thought were gone forever. Her laughter rings through the air, the sound the sweetest melody he’s ever heard, and Bucky just can’t stop smiling. Y/N likes him for who he is, and despite how much he hates himself… Bucky loves the way she makes him feel. 

Well… he loves Y/N more than anything in the world. But she does make him feel pretty damn great.

“You know, Alpine sounds amazing. Maybe I’ll meet him one day.” She smiles. The thought makes Bucky’s heart grow even more, this time so big it could explode out of his chest. His two favourite people, the people he loves most in the world, meeting each other.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, smiling softly. “Maybe one day.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maybe we'll see reader meet Alpine..... 👀

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[ramen-writes]

Prompt: The villian comes around the corner, sneaking into the hero's house while they're supposed to be celebrating with friends. Only to see the hero slumped against the wall, drunk.

-------------------------

The villian came around the corner. Only to see the hero all alone in her room slumped against the wall with bottles surrounding her.

"Wh- what are you doing?" The villain asks.

"Huh?" The hero raises her head to look at him. "Oh... It's you" she says sadly.

"Yeah it's me so get up and fight me" he says urging her to get up.

"Nahh let's just end it here, I am tired, you win I lose, happy?"

Confusion fills up the villain's face "N-no, not happy. See? I am not happy. What do you mean, what's going on? You always fight for this place and the people of it"

The hero hums "yeah I guess but it's not like I owe it to them" a hunt of resentment seeps through her calm voice.

"Wha- but you grew up here with these people shouldn't you want to protect them?"

"I can say the same about you too. You weren't the only one they treated like an outcast because of what you could do. I was treated the same way but when you decided to show up all powerful and mighty I had them choice to either join you and prove them correct or fight you and prove them wrong. I did what I thought was the right thing..."

The villain gapes and the hero continues "everyone looovves the hero until they get all up and close with them and realize it's not all fun", she goes to grab another bottle but before she can the villain quickly snatches it

"Hey!! I need THAT. How else am I supposed to act like everything is fine if I can't let it out in the solitude of my own home and drink my problems away" the villain sets the bottle aside, not listening.

" This isn't about the town's people is it. Someone close to you? Who? Viviana? Cobey? Never liked them, always thought they were kinda a weird duo to take up as a guard" the villain said clearing some of the tissues and bottles so he could sit.

"No it wasn't them" the hero mumbled out.

"Then who? I really don't think you are close to that many people" the hero hummed softly in agreement.

"W-wait I didn't mean it as an insult I just meant that there aren't many people who you trust... wait that doesn't make it better does it?" The villian winced.

"Well if it isn't them then who-" The villain's eyes widen as the realization sets in. "No..." He whispers and the hero just nods.

"Liam? How? He is the last person I would've guessed to be the reason for all this" he gestured to the bottles and pillows.

"He doesn't know that I am like this. I acted all calm and composed in front of him." She slumps "well I hope I did because otherwise I just seem like a sad lonely idiot"

"B-but that doesn't make any sense... Yo-you guys were in love. He was the only person I couldn't even think of trying to blackmail because he was so loyal to you".

The hero let out a chuckle. "It's not his fault really... Mostly mine for putting the kingdom and the people of it before everything else".

"Of course it's not your fault I just don't understand what happened". The villain says.

"He wanted to settle down, and I couldn't do that, he wanted a family and I couldn't give it to him, he wanted me to not put the city before everything else and I once again couldn't do it." she let out a sob. "I let something that took everything from me destroy the one thing I had left"

"Oh..." Is all the villain could let out. He didn't know how to comfort anyone or if he even should comfort her.

"The worse part is that he was so nice about it too" her voice cracks.

"He said that he couldn't do it, that he couldn't live like this when I put everything else before him. But he also said that it didn't mean that he wasn't going to be there for me. He said he would still be my friend and will always fight beside me" she let out another sob. "H-he wished me luck and said that he hoped that I could learn to put myself before the city... H-he said he would be there for me but that he can't wait forever and this is something I have to learn myself" by now she was full on sobbing.

The villain didn't know what to say or do. "You know...I had a similar experience too" he says. Where did that come from? Stupid.

But now the hero was looking at him with curious eyes. Those eyes wide, and for a moment almost forgetting the tears they had just shed. He sighed, it's not like she was going to remember this anyways and it's better than listening to her sob.

"She was the most talented and beautiful woman I had very seen. She still is..."

He glanced at her only to find her staring up at him urging him to continue. He sighed.

"She was the only on who understood me, she knew what I was going through without me even telling her. She didn't have her life any better than mine but she still went around with a smile on her face that made my day. She was the light at the end of the tunnel, the reason I decided to wake up every morning...and then I ruined it. I became this. Even after everything she did for me I knew I couldn't live like that forever and I didn't want her to have to either... But she didn't agree. She believed there was a better way. But I knew that was just hope and hope is dangerous. So as much I wanted to I couldn't let myself become the hopeful boy I used to be waiting for a day where everything would be fine. So I left..."

He finished and looked at her.

"that's not a good ending" she pouted.

"He let out a sad chuckle "No...it's not, is it? But I guess we can't always have a happily ever after" He glanced at her again.

Her bright eyes, the one that shined so bright everytime she smiled.

"Do you miss her? Do you regret it? does the pain ever stop?" Her voice cracked at the last sentence.

" Yes... I miss her every day" and he did but not because he didn't get to see her but because every time he did she acted as if she didn't know him, as if everything they went through didn't matter like becoming...this, erased everything else.

"And I do question if she was right. That if I hadn't become the villain everything would have been fine but I also know that that's just wishful thinking..." He sighed.

"The pain doesn't go away...well at least for me it didn't but it gets better over time. Surround yourself with the people who love you most and soon you'll understand that that's just how somethings happen. Unlike me you didn't lose someone, maybe as a lover sure but from what you told me it seems as if you aren't losing him as a friends or someone you care about and who cares about you." He says.

"What about you? Did you lose her?" She asked, her voice slightly more sober now.

"I like to think not forever" he said as a sad smile made its way onto his face.

That was one thing he let himself hope for, the only time he let himself be a little boy again and believe that one-day everything would be okay.

The villain let out a breath getting up.

"Let's get you cleaned up first alright?" The hero nodded as the villain helped them stand up.

The moment she was on her feet she stumbles forward. The villain caught her before she could fall. "Sorry... It's hard to walk after you just drowned yourself in..."

She squinted her eyes and looked towards the bottles "whatever that is. What is that anyways?" She asked.

The villain confused looked at the bottles and his eyes widened. "What the- you were drinking straight up hard liquor, no wonder you're like this. Come on I'll carry you"

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

Rise and you should pay.

Logan howlett x reader

------

DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE SPOILERS!!!!

-

Warnings: fluff idk, angst stuff. Normal mcu/xmen stuff. Logan howlett is hot. Idk what else.

-

After years of working at the TVA, you'd have thought I was accustomed to being devastated by watching timelines fade and watching things disappear in front of my eyes. The amount of screams and cries and groans of agony, the scene of upset and destruction.

It never really becomes normal. Not for anyone. Not even for me. The noises are haunting. Horrifying. Those orange strands of death, veiny and disgustingly upsetting to stare at. I missed the x mansion. I missed staring at the stone walls. Hell, I even missed staring at Charles's wheelchair wheels roll around.

That's how I knew I was beginning to lose my mind. I wanted my powers back. I wanted my family and my life back. And above everything, I just wanted Logan back.

I had been assigned a high-profile retrieval mission to fetch the Wolverine alongside deadpool, the anti-hero mercenary that apparently everyone in the TVA despised. I still haven't found one person who even tolerates him.

But I turnt this mission down. They were using me for bait to bring Logan to them and do God knows what to him. I wasn't going to be an accomplice to that.

I didn't hate my job here. I suppose it got interesting most days. Sometimes, we got iron-Man variants stumble in. Most days, it was Loki variants, and on the rare occasion, scarlet witch.

Any other day felt like being an accountant.

And the week after, I dealt with my last Loki variant. I took the Wolverine job. Of course they were ecstatic but I wasn't doing it for their pleasure or for the sacred fuck around of the timeline. No, I just wanted my Logan back.

And God help anyone who would try to stop me.

-

The void.

Deserted, hot, dry, and empty beyond horizon. My suit was clinging to me. By the end of this walk, I swore my body was going to be stained yellow and blue. I'd look like a van gogh paint palette in 20 minutes.

Groaning, I began to stumble toward a billboard, or what looked like a sign of some kind. Shade. Finally some fucking shade.

I wanted to find Logan. I really did. But I wasn't going to be able to do it. Without some fucking help that was for sure. I don't even know if he's here. But the TVA tazed me with their stick things and now I'm here.

"You know if you wanted shade that badly, you should have grown out your hair. It can be an awesome umbrella or the perfect love handles"

I didn't know who the fuck was talking to me. But I saw in the distance a red suit I felt I had definitely seen before. Black patches. God be damned blurry vision.

"Who the fuck is that?" I groaned, leaning my head against a pole.

I watched as they approached closer.

"Fuck" I cursed to myself.

"God you look like shit don't you?"

Deadpool.

---

Logans arms were hard. They weren't comfortable sleeping on, but they were comfortable to hold and to be held by. He always smelt like woodfire and sweat. To be near him was to drown in the scent of the infamous wolverine.

Not a single person had ever expected him to smell of roses and sunshine. Well to me he smelt like heaven, but if you had ever asked Charles Xavier he'd say 'deodorant exists Logan. Use it'

It wasn't fair how badly I wanted him back.

"Is she gonna wake up or what? We have a bald freak to kill"

Wade's annoying voice. Fuck. I might have accidentally stumbled into hell, I fear.

"Shut the fuck up for once would you?" I mumbled.

Slowly, I sat up and instantly came face with four people. All confused and all faintly recognisable. One, obviously, was deadpool. One may have been blade, and I didn't know the other two. But I knew my back was killing me and I needed to fix that shit.

"Where the fuck am I?" I asked as I rolled my back into place.

"You're in the void. Welcome to hell" A female voice spoke.

"And who are all of you?"

One by one.

Blade

Elektra

Gambit

And for any other reason, Wade introduced himself. Even though I already fucking knew him.

"I need to get out of Here"

"Ya know ya could just stay, ya much safer ere"

Gambit. God, I could never understand him.

"Why are you all here?" I asked them. Mostly wade but I asked it as a collective.

"Well," Wade pointed to himself. "I'm here with wolvie, and we're gonna kill a bald freakazoid with all these gu-" he said in an unbearably happy tone.

"I'm sorry." I put my hand up "wolvie?"

"Yeah," Elektra spoke, "like wolverine?"

At the point I was convinced I had actually died. I was dead. The heat had finally gotten to me, and this was the price I paid for not dying honourably.

"Ya all good? Ya look pale."

I was too focused on 'wolvie' to listen to gambit. Wolverine. Wolverine. Wolverine. Gods above, I was going to throw up.

"I'm sorry, Wolverine?!" My mouth fell agape.

"Yeah, big yellow kitty, died heaps of times but never really dies. Sweaty all the time. Heroic and brave. Used to bang the phoenix lady"

I held my hand up again "Yeah Yeah I get it"

I looked around and stood up. The air was humid, and through a small window I could see trees. A forest? How in the fuck is there a forest here?

"Is he here?"

"Wolvie? Yeah, he's just there" Wade pointed behind me.

The scent, oh, that familiar scent. That intoxicating smell. It invades my sinuses.

"Who the fuck is this?"

It sounds just like him. It sounds like gaining memories back. It sounds like losing them. It sounds like campfires on the farm. It sounds like logans late night wood chopping activities.

I turnt around. Yellow. And blue. Blue. Yellow. Azure. Sapphire. Amber. Sunflower.

"Why the fuck is she dressed like me?" He grumbled

Blade hummed. "I was waiting for some to mention it"

There he was. His gruff face. Aged. Still lined in scruffy brown hair. Kitty ears still in his hair. Frown lines. Deep brown eyes and memories all over.

"Logan"

He furrowed his eyebrows and shoved my shoulder as he walked right passed me "how the fuck does she know my name? Who the fuck is this wade?!"

He doesn't remember me.

Hedoesntremmeberme he does n, he he , rmme.

My head hit the floor with a thud. It felt like taking a bullet for Logan for the first time. The first time ever felt something real.

-

"You know him don't you?" Wade asked.

"Better than anyone"

The camp-fire crackled Amber in the dark forest. It brought back memories I didn't know If I wanted to keep or throw away.

"He's someone very important to me" I sighed

"He doesn't remember you. Do you know why?" Elektra asked

I tried to hold back tears. I missed xaviers' wise advice. I missed hearing Jean's voice tell me to relax and drink tea. I missed storms taking me for walks to clear my head. And I missed most of all, logans endless effort to help me.

"No. No, I don't know!" I threw one of my daggers at a tree, and it hit with a splitting thud into the wood. Elektra flinched, worried the tree would split completely and fall.

"I just want him back. It wasn't supposed to be like this"

No. Not like this at all.

[mykoreanlove]

the extra mile

“I wanna call her. Give me back my phone!”

Han was whiny as fuck. You got back on the plane to your home country earlier and ever since he was losing it. He practically forced the guys to drink with him. Was it supposed to decrease his anxiety? Certainly. Did it increase his neediness for you instead? You bet.

Chan rolled his eyes for the 100th time that night. Looking out for Jisung was hard enough under normal circumstances but now that he was tipsy and heartbroken? Unimaginable suffering. “Han, y/n is still on the plane. How are you supposed to call her? Can you like, chill out for a second?”

He huffed in annoyance. “I can’t wait that long.. I really need y/n.”

Why were you so important to him? Well, shouldn’t the person you lost your heart to be anything but important?

He met you at an award show a couple of months ago. He was there to perform on stage and collect a price for his outstanding songwriting, when he saw you waiting tables. You had him starstruck from the get go. He was yours the moment you coyly smiled at him. He eyed you all night, wondering when the time would be right to approach you. He didn’t want to disturb you while working but he couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to you like a magnet. It didn’t seem like you were Korean, which he didn’t mind at all. He loved your appearance – you caught him gazing at your full lips, sparkly eyes and long legs multiple times. Han couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss those lips while discovering your body with his hands. Fuck, he was not supposed to think like that. The media would lose it if word got out that he was dating. And yet, he was captivated by you like never before.

Minho pulled him out of his daydreaming as he was shaking a bottle of soju in front of him. “Hey, you up for a drink or what?” The boys poured down a couple of shots before cornering Han. “Ji”, Minho asked upfront, “are you really sure about this? Are you sure about y/n?”

Han felt the clenching in his chest again, he was very well aware that this adoration for you could hurt him very badly. “Yah, what the fuck? Of course he is sure of y/n!” Changbin chirmed in.

Minho rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Will the romance queen shut up please. This is real life, not a drama.” Changbin got up flustered, ready to fight for his convictions about love. “So what? What’s so wrong with them falling in love? Love is not a crime!” Hyunjin, who was utterly wasted by now, chimed in forcefully. “Exactly, falling in love is not a crime! You go, Han!” “I am surrounded by idiots”, Minho muttered under his breath. “Well, are you?” Han turned around to face Jeongin, asking curiously about the state of Han’s heart.

Was he in love with you?

Han thought back to all the precious moments he shared with you. One time he took you out for a nightly walk at Han river. You held hands, giggled and kissed in moments you felt invisible. Han always had to dress up but you didn’t mind – you felt like dating a super hero that had to be incognito with his love. Han remembered when he was sick with the flu and you came over and took care of him. You brought him chicken needle soup, massaged his feet and played his favorite movies all night long. You even kissed him when he begged you not to. He remembered all those juicy nights in which he had lost himself between your legs, thinking to himself if he would die right now, he would leave content. The memories of kissing you, holding you, squeezing you and ultimately fucking you did a lot to him.

Han was too engulfed in his memories to notice the boys gossiping about him. “He is so out of it, look at him. He’s smiling like a lunatic. Han. Haaaaan. HAN JISUNG!”

Han snapped out of it: “What the hell?” Laughter filled the room, followed by more rounds of soju. “You know what? If you think that she is worth it, you should go for it. I support you, Ji.” Felix beamed at Han, taking his hands into his own reassuringly. “Yes, team love!”, Changbin and Hyunjin sang in support.

The company and investment of the others always made him happy. They made him feel seen. “Is she worth it, hyung?” Han’s face lit up again. “Innie, baby, are you seriously asking me if y/n is worth it? She is. Oh my god, she is. I’ve never met someone so fascinating as her. I mean where do I start? Have you seen her? She looks like a literal angel. No really, god himself has handcrafted her and sent her down to earth only for me to find her. She is so beautiful, no other girl could ever compare to her. That pretty face? That sexy figure? Her swag? Her drive? Her ambitions? Her sex appeal? She’s kinda like Minho, only nicer. And a woman!”

All eyes were on Minho now, which he hated, so he naturally started laughing, brushing it off as a joke. Minho glared at Han who kept praising you relentlessly. “And she is so smart, did you know? She always explains shit to me which I didn’t even know I didn’t know. Y/N is the coolest. She’s kind and compassionate and generous and so sweet. I could go on forever. I probably will if you don’t stop me. She-”

Jeongin threw himself on Han laughing: “Okay, okay, okay, I get it. Y/N is a catch. Relax now, Jesus.” Han smiled brightly, thinking about you always had that effect on him. You warmed his heart no matter where you were. “So, what’s the problem then? Apart from the dating ban, I mean.”

Han took a deep sigh, remembering his biggest fears. “She had to go back. So now… we have to go long distance, I guess. If you think about it, it’s really fucked up. I am not allowed to date, she is thousands of miles away – how are we supposed to make this work? How can I love her the way she deserves to be loved? What if someone else takes my place? What if she leaves me?”

He got interrupted by Seungmin’s snort. “You don’t actually believe that, do you? There are thousands of girls fantasizing about you fucking them brainless and degrading them to sluts and you are unsure if she wants to be with you?” The others were too shook to speak, jaws to the floor accompanied by eyes wide-open. “What? Don’t you read the stuff they write about us? It’s hella entertaining, I’m telling you”, Seungmin shrugged his shoulders, unbothered by his member’s shocked faces. Chan was the first to re-find his composure: “They do what?” Seungmin rolled his eyes, not buying into this naivety. “As if you didn’t know what they’re writing about you, bang daddy chan.”

Laughter erupted amongst the other members. They got on their phones so quickly, overly eager to read the stories stays made up about them. Everyone but Han, that is. “Chan, can I have my phone back now?” Chan was too interested in the story about him being a werewolf to realize what he was up to. “Oh yeah, yeah, go ahead.”

Finally. Han checked his phone – still no message from you. Were you still up in the air? Should he text you again? Should he read the stories about him spitting into girl’s mouths instead? He contemplated for a second until his phone finally rang.

„Y/N! Oh my god, did you land?“

Laughter sweet like honey filled the other end of the line. „Ji, baby, are you drunk?“ His cheeks got rosy. It took you only a couple of weeks to figure him out. “What if I was?”, he tried to play it cool. “I’d probably get back on the plane and fly back. I know how horny you get when you’re drunk.” A giant smirk was playing on your lips.

Han almost shouted into his phone: “YES I AM DRUNK. VERY DRUNK. I NEED YOU TO COME BACK Y/N, RIGHT NOW!” He heard you laugh again. Oh, that damned laughter of yours that made him weak in the knees. “Will you?”

You sighed heavily. “Right now? No. Soon? Yes. If you still want me to, I mean.” He was about to combust with love for you. “Of course, I want you to. I don’t wanna be apart from you at all. I miss you, y/n.” “I miss you, too, Ji. I cried so much on the flight home. The lady next to me got so worried at one point and asked me if I was okay.” It hurt him knowing you were suffering like that because of him. “Do you want to know a secret?” Han nodded: “Yeah.”

“I told the lady about you. I told her about the amazing boy I fell for, unwillingly, but completely and whole-heartedly without a doubt. I told her about the way we are, how we joke around, how we understand each other without a word and always put each other first. I told her about the magical, sexy connection we have and how special it is. I told her how grateful I am to be loved by someone so amazing as you, Han. Even if only for a short time.”

He had a lump in his throat, fearing what you would say next. “Do you know what she told me? She was like ‘My dear, it’s true, you won’t have it as easy as ordinary couples. But then again, this doesn’t seem like an ordinary love, does it?’”

Han sighed out in relief. “Don’t ever think I’ll let go of you, Ji. You won’t get rid of me so easily.” Now it was Han’s laughter that filled the line. “I don’t plan on getting rid of you, y/n. I am yours. And you’re mine. Promise?”

You blew a giant kiss into your phone before hanging up: “Promise!”