#explosion protection training course

[cassiemaebarnes]

The New Winter Soldier

Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky goes on a mission to investigate a possible Hydra base, and comes back with you...who they were training to be the new Winter Soldier.

Word Count: 1,020

The explosion jolted you awake, and you stood up immediately, your heavy breathing the only sound echoing around the concrete walls of your cell.

You stood there, listening, wondering if you were imagining the explosion you heard. But then, you heard another one, followed by gunfire this time.

You were rooted in place, not sure what was going on. Although, you’ve never had any clue what goes on in this place. Or what it even was. Or how you got here. All you know is what they told you, though you doubted that was the whole truth.

They told you that they had saved you, but you didn’t remember anything about your life before coming to this place. They told you it was the new Red Room. The new Hydra. A safe place. Giving girls who needed a home not only a place to stay, but a place to teach them how to protect themselves.

And then, there was you. They told you that you were special. You were the strongest, the smartest, had the most potential.

They said they were making you the new Winter Soldier.

Which is how you knew what they were really doing here. It wasn’t a place to save anyone. They were training you to be assassins.

Heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway outside the cell door pulled you from your thoughts. You couldn’t move, just waited. Then, they finally slowed down, stopping outside your door. A few moments later, the door opened slowly, with a low groan, casting light into the cell. The same groan you’ve come to associate with the beginning of training and torture.

But no one came inside. No one even stood in the doorway. No guards to come grab you and escorting you where they wanted you next. No handlers coming to talk to you or give you a tray full of a sorry excuse for food.

Until, finally, a man stepped into the doorway, looking at you.

Not just any man. The Winter Soldier.

Although you’d never met him, you knew everything about him. As the Winter Soldier at least. Nothing about his life before or after.

You’d seen every video, every picture, from pretty much every bit of training or torture he endured, along with the missions he went on. You knew everything he did. Probably more than he remembered.

He was supposed to be your idol. They practically preached about him. You were supposed to be the next him, so of course they told you and showed you everything he did.

But this wasn’t the Winter Soldier. They told you he was dead. But you’d somehow known all along that he’d gotten out. Which is what gave you the hope that maybe you could too.

And now he was standing in front of you.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help you. My name is Bucky Barnes.”

So he had a name. Maybe that meant you did, too.

“I’m here with the Avengers. We came to save you. We’re going to get you out of here, okay? You’re going to be okay. You can trust me.”

And you did. You knew all the awful things this man did under their control. But you also knew without a doubt that there was nothing of the Winter Soldier left in him.

He slowly reached out his hand, like he didn’t want to startle you. You just stared at it.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you doubted this could be happening. You didn’t think you’d ever be saved. You thought this could be a trap. Maybe they got him again. Maybe he was just going to lead you to some worse form of training and torture.

But as you looked from his hand back to his eyes, you knew you were right. You could trust him. So you took a small step forward. Then another. Then put your hand in his.

You watched as he let out a breath, shoulders relaxing just slightly, like he was relieved you trusted him. That told you all you needed to know.

“Good, follow me.”

You stepped outside your cell and he stopped, scanning both sides of the hallway. You looked over to the shelf outside the door and spotted your binder. You knew exactly what was in it. Pictures and notes from every training and torture session you did. Along with pictures and notes of the Winter Soldier – Bucky – as comparison.

You grabbed it with your free hand. Not because you ever wanted to see it again. No, you knew you wouldn’t ever open it. But because they would probably have a better chance of shutting this place down with the information in there.

He looked back at you, then the binder in your hands. He reached out with his other hand – his metal one – and you handed it to him, but prayed he wouldn’t open it. You didn’t want him to see his past.

But he didn’t. He just took it from you and guided you down the hallway, half running, moving through a series of turns, until you were outside.

You stopped dead in your tracks the second you stepped out the door. Bucky was still going, but stopped when he jerked back because you weren’t moving with him anymore.

You hadn’t been outside as long as you could remember. You only ever knew that place.

Bucky’s voice cut through your thoughts, as if he could read your mind.

“It’s okay. I know it’s a lot. You might feel like you don’t deserve it, but I promise you do. You can leave this place. You’ll be safe now. You’ll be free.”

He took a step closer to you, still holding onto your hand like he never planned on letting go.

“You’re not alone anymore. Just trust me, okay?”

You took a deep breath. Then took a step forward. Then another. You didn’t speak, didn’t look back. Just held his hand tighter as he led you away from the only life you’d known – and toward the one you thought you’d never get to have.

--

Part 2 | Masterlist

Bucky Taglist: @winchestert101 @herejustforbuckybarnes @avengemepercy @buckyslove1917 @nelachu2423 @iyskgd @navs-bhat @starstruckfirecat @yes-ilovetowrite @bonnyclydecat

[moonberry69]

Has anyone else discussed this? It’s been swirling around in my brain.

Caleb’s “fall from grace” is actually quite depressing. He went from being a child experiment (assuming for now, though his anecdote confirms it for me) to being a free, super intelligent, uber popular boy that grew into a talented, gold medal winning, rising star pilot. Now, he’s a mid 20s tool for the very same group that experimented on him and the love of his life. He is sacrificing his entire self for the woman he has been in love with since he was a child.

We don’t really know how much of his true self he hid behind a facade growing up but I think it’s ok, for now, to assume he enjoyed life, at least. He socialized a lot, had friends, went to parties, had many hobbies, excelled in school. He did “normal” teen/college kid stuff. Yes, his entire world revolved around MC but he had so much more, also. He loved being a pilot. It was his dream and he busted his ass to make that dream a reality. He seemed to genuinely enjoy some of the people around him (Gideon, Patrick, etc). He had a future to look forward to.

His life took such a huge, dramatic shift for the negative. His life is lonely and his mind is on only one thing: saving MC. He isn’t thinking of himself. It all has to affect him in some way. He has no one left but MC. He has no friends and hasn’t since the explosion. He even has a line in the cafe where he states that in Skyhaven you don’t make new friends, just new recruits. He was a social butterfly type it seems. Now he’s isolated and just has his own thoughts to keep him company. He probably hasn’t truly enjoyed a hobby or even thought about them since he woke up. He suffers from nightmares. He’s experimented on. He’s losing himself and may one day lose his memories to a control chip. He has zero joy in his life other than MC and that relationship is rocky, at best, right now. He’s plagued with insecurities and thoughts of losing her. The fear of losing her is consuming him.

What does it do to someone to go from being surrounded by friends and endless opportunities to being forced to conspire with known enemies and have only one path in front of you (not a pleasant one, either)? It’s not as if he was mentally stable to begin with. His anecdote confirms he wasn’t.

I guess saying that all of this started after the explosion isn’t correct, either. In his myth, when MC is snooping on his computer, she finds that he was involved in special secret training before joining the Fleet.

I wonder if he was aware all along that eventually the nice, comfortable world he had would eventually come to an end or if he allowed himself, even for a bit, to believe that maybe he could just live his life the way he wanted. The comment he makes in his bond story leads me to believe that he knew it would all end eventually, in some way (the comment about the storms MC has to face in the future).

When did the realization that his life was about to drastically change hit him? During the special secret training when he was at the DAA? Did he throw himself fully into “life” because he knew he was on borrowed time so he wanted to squeeze as much out of it as possible? Even if he thought he had somehow skirted being put through hell again, he seemed to know MC wouldn’t be able to do the same. Did he throw himself fully into experiencing everything he could because he knew she had a countdown before hell came down on her and he, of course, wouldn’t let her do that alone so he felt like he was on a timer too? Or was it post explosion? He does make the comment in his main story, when MC is sleeping, that if he had known then what he knows now, would things have been different. So was he blown up, revived, and then forced into the reality of how much danger MC is in and how his life will never be the same going forward, all while throwing himself in enemy line of fire to protect her as much as he can?

Thoughts about him are gut wrenching (ALL of the guys, honestly. My Fishie 😭).

Sorry if this seems rushed. It is! I just had to ramble and get my thoughts out.

[kenzdolls]

𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈/𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒:

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐠𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐫𝐞-𝐩𝐥𝐟, 𝐩𝐫𝐞-𝐰𝐚𝐫, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 (𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐢) 𝐠𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

MEETING DABI:

he acts like he doesn't care about you when you first meet, but he's definitely sizing you up, trying to figure out your quirk and how useful you'll be to the league.

your first real conversation is probably him sarcastically asking if you’re sure you’re in the right place, followed by a cutting remark about your villain name.

he secretly respects a good villain name, though. if yours is clever, it gets you a few points in his book.

if your quirk complements his in some way (like you can create flammable substances or help control his flames), he'll be intrigued, but he'll never let you know that outright. he'll just suddenly be around you more often during training or missions.

he’ll make a rude joke about your villain outfit and then make a comment about how you should “try harder” if you want to make it past this league.

DABI CRUSHING ON YOU:

he'd never admit it, but your dedication to villainy is a huge turn-on for him. seeing you embrace the darker side of yourself is... interesting.

he'll pick fights with you, not because he hates you, but because he wants to see you use your quirk. it’s also his weird way of flirting.

you'll catch him staring at you sometimes when he thinks you're not looking, especially after you've successfully pulled off a particularly brutal or clever move.

he pretends to be annoyed when you ask him for help or advice, but he secretly enjoys it. it's a chance to show off his knowledge and power.

he’ll start leaving small “gifts” for you: stolen items that he thinks you might find useful or amusing. it could be anything from a rare explosive to a vintage lighter to a particularly disturbing news clipping.

if someone else flirts with you, he'll become dangerously territorial. he might not say anything directly, but he'll make his displeasure very clear with a chilling glare or a well-placed threat.

he always seems to know when you are in trouble, often appearing out of nowhere to (reluctantly) help you. He'll deny it if you thank him.

the first time he accidentally touches you (maybe during a training exercise), he'll flinch away like he's been burned, even if it's just a brush of your hands. he’ll pretend it's because he doesn't want to get close to anyone, but really, he's just flustered.

DATING DABI:

dating dabi is intense. it's not all sunshine and roses. expect a lot of angst, brooding, and philosophical debates about the nature of heroism and villainy.

he's not good with physical affection at first. maybe a fleeting touch or a hand on your shoulder. it takes time for him to get comfortable with more.

he’ll only show you his soft side when you’re alone. think quiet moments where he lets his guard down and actually talks to you about his past (but only in vague terms, of course).

he’s fiercely protective of you, but he’ll never coddle you. he believes in your strength and will push you to become even stronger.

his love language is acts of service. he might not say "i love you," but he'll always make sure you have everything you need to succeed in your villainous endeavors.

he'll open up to you, eventually, about his past as touya. but it'll be a slow, painful process, filled with anger and resentment. be patient with him.

he'll test you, constantly. he needs to know that you're loyal, that you understand him, and that you're not going to abandon him like everyone else in his life.

dates consist of arson. maybe robbing a place, maybe blowing up a building that’s endeavor’s.

he'll find a "comfortable spot" that he isn't burning hot, and let you touch him there.

he finds comfort in hearing about your plans for the future, even if they’re incredibly violent. just knowing you're thinking about the future at all is comforting to him.

he might buy you jewelry he steals from the heroes he kills.

he will start trying to control his flames, but he will never be able to completely. he will always have a small fire burning somewhere on his skin.

he hates cuddling but he doesn't complain when you rest your head against his chest, as long as it's over his clothes.

he finds it hard to smile so his way of showing you he is happy is through a small nod.

you'll be one of the few people who see him smile. it's rare, but when it happens, it's genuine and surprisingly beautiful.

you’re his anchor. you’re the reason he keeps fighting, the reason he hasn’t completely succumbed to the darkness. he’d never admit it out loud, but you’re the most important thing in his life.

© 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 —

[bananasplit133]

Dial T for Tenna

Ant Tenna/Reader

Summary: You’re hired to be Tenna’s emotional liaison—a corporate stress ball for a TV star known for explosive tantrums. Despite his fierce resistance and fear of losing fame, you patiently absorb his outbursts and fears, slowly earning his reluctant trust. Your job isn’t to fix him, but to keep him afloat—and somehow, that makes all the difference.

AO3 link

__________

“ WHAT!? I DON’T NEED AN EMOTIONAL SUPPORT LIGHTNER! WHAT WOULD THE AUDIENCE THINK?! ”

The figure with the TV-shaped head practically shrieked , his screen flickering wildly between harsh static and a burning red glow. His fists slammed onto the glossy conference room table with enough force to rattle the papers scattered across it. The higher-ups remained unmoved, their faces trained in professional calm — clearly, this wasn’t their first time weathering one of Tenna’s infamous tantrums. One of them even exchanged a knowing glance with another, their patience worn but not broken.

“Mr. Tenna,” a tired voice finally cut through the tension, a middle-aged woman adjusting her glasses with deliberate slowness. On her blouse rested a nametag labeled ‘Kairos.’”Her tone was firm but not unkind, the kind of voice used when dealing with someone prone to theatrics. “You had a breakdown on-air last week because your intro jingle was played in mono. What do you think the audience thinks of that?”

Tenna’s screen dimmed slightly, like a flickering heartbeat. He threw his head back with a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, as if protecting himself from the words. “It wasn’t a breakdown! It was a performance piece ! ART, I tell you!” His voice cracked somewhere between indignation and desperation. He pivoted to glance sideways at the conference room windows as if searching for some invisible applause or sympathy from the empty hallway outside.

The woman’s lips twitched into a small, unconvinced smile, but her tone hardened as she pressed on. “You almost stepped on a spectator during one of your... outbursts.” Her voice had an edge now, the kind that cuts through denial like a knife.

“We were lucky that… Mike, was it? … was quick to switch to the standby screen. There are still people who attended the live show and thought the whole thing was part of the act,” she said, her voice lowering. “But it wasn’t. It was chaos, and it could’ve ended badly.”

Tenna’s flickering face shifted into something almost like regret, but it was swallowed quickly by a flare of defensiveness. “They didn’t understand the nuance of the moment,” he said, voice dropping to a low growl, “the audience loved it. Or at least, they should have.”

You sat silently in the corner, clutching your clipboard like a shield against the storm of static and emotion filling the room. You studied him— him , the man called Mr. Tenna—livewire in a cheap suit, a walking television set full of ego, noise, and drama wrapped in flickering static. At least, that was what the audience saw. What they didn’t see were the cracks beneath that flashing exterior, the meltdowns nobody talked about. You wouldn’t be here if he were fine, of course.

Clearing your throat, you stepped forward, voice small but steady. “Hi. I’m—”

Suddenly, he whipped around with a jolt, screen flashing erratically like an angry broadcast signal losing control. “ You’re the therapy human?” His voice dripped with revulsion and disbelief, and for a being without eyes, you could’ve sworn his gaze was burning right through you.

You forced a slight smile, trying your best to seem friendly and approachable despite the electric tension crackling between you. “I prefer emotional liaison, actually,” you said, hoping that a little humor might ease the edge. You had about… one day until you’d be working together, and starting on good terms seemed like the smartest move.

He recoiled as if you’d slapped him, the static on his screen suddenly buzzing louder. “ You prefer being a corporate babysitter ?!” His tone was scandalized, almost theatrical in its outrage. “Do I look like I need coddling?! I am the FACE of this network!” His fists clenched so tightly you thought the cables behind him might snap.

A voice muttered from the back of the room, barely audible over the static crackle but impossible to ignore: “And that face almost squashed a person to death last Thursday.” A dry chuckle rippled through the others, but Tenna’s flickering screen turned cold, as if stung by the reminder.

He growled lowly, almost threateningly, but something in his body language softened — a tiny, imperceptible shift in his posture. Did he shrink a bit or are your eyes playing tricks on your mind? The glare flickered for a split second into something unreadable, before the storm of static roared back louder than ever.

The room fell quiet after the comment, a heavy kind of silence that made your skin feel tight. You gripped your clipboard tighter, your fingers digging into the edges without realizing it.

Tenna’s screen flickered with static, and though he didn’t have eyes, you felt the weight of his glare like heat pressed against your skin. The higher-ups exchanged tired looks but said nothing—this wasn’t the first time they’d had to deal with one of his outbursts, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

The tension in the room was thick, like everyone was waiting for him to explode again or collapse entirely, but he just sat there, fists clenched on the table, his screen pulsing red with every shallow breath you could almost hear.

Finally, Kairos cleared her throat, her voice low and even as she broke the silence. “Tenna, nobody’s denying you’re the star. The ratings speak for themselves. But the breakdowns, the outbursts—they’re starting to take a toll on the show and on you. You can’t keep going like this and expect everything to hold together.” Her eyes met his flickering screen with a steady calm, like she was trying to get through to him without triggering another meltdown.

Tenna wheezed in response, a short burst of static crackling across the room. “Breakdowns? Those were.. performances . If I toned it down, the audience would lose interest. They’d stop watching. Th - They can’t stop watching…” The faint white glow pulsed beneath his skin, quicker now—like a warning light struggling to stay steady.

Your fingers tightened on the clipboard.

You’d read the reports. Watched the clips. Heard the stories. You knew the warning signs. The shift in his tone, the flickering of his screen, the flickering red bleeding into violent static. The pitch of his voice was climbing now—desperate, not loud.

……

“They’d stop watching…”

That was it. That was the trigger.

You could see it happening like slow-motion—his shoulders rising with tension, screen pulsing erratically, hands twitching like they were trying to grasp onto something real before his mind unraveled. You could practically hear the wires buzzing behind his eyes.

This was it. Your cue.

You stood up slowly.

Tenna didn’t notice you at first. His fingers dug into the table, his voice sputtering out through waves of static like he was buffering his own panic.

“Th-The screen goes black, the audience stops caring, and then what? Will i just be forgotten forever?!”

His screen flashed violently now, looping between half-rendered animations—laugh tracks, applause, then sharp cuts of color bars and a black void with a lonely “NO SIGNAL” bouncing like a screensaver. It wasn’t just theatrics. It was fear.

Real, raw fear.

You set the clipboard down and took a careful step forward. “Hey…”

No response. His hands trembled, static warping the air around him like heat off a broken screen.

Another step.

“ hey ... big guy,” you said again, voice a little louder, but still soft. Not confrontational. Not challenging. “Take a breath.”

His head snapped toward you like a spotlight locking onto a performer mid-show. His screen froze on harsh red again. “What do you know about it? You don’t get it—people used to wait their whole week to see me! Prime time! I was the moment. Now people skip through me. Speed me up. Mute me. Forget me.”

He was spiraling. You could see it in the way his screen blinked so fast it was strobing. Another step. You were close now.

You raised your hands gently—like you were approaching a scared animal. “ Mr Tenna…”

“Don’t,” he snapped, but there was no fire in it. Only static. “Don’t say it’s okay. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

You were right in front of him now. Up close, he was still a tad taller than you, and when he wasn’t yelling, he looked… small. Like something burnt out behind the glass.

“Listen,” you said, “TV isn’t dead.”

His screen flickered into confusion.

You kept going. “Yeah, it’s changed. Sure, people scroll and tap and speed things up. But there’s always going to be people that love the screen. Who wait for a broadcast. Who feel something when a jingle plays just right. Hell…”

You gave a small, sheepish shrug, voice quieter now. “Even I still watch TV.”

His screen glitched.

“…You do?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Call me old-fashioned. But sometimes I just want to sit down and get lost in something. No skipping. No rewinding. Just letting a story carry me.”

His shoulders loosened, just slightly. The screen faded from red to a low, pulsing blue.

“I don’t want to replace you,” you added. “I just want to help you stay on the air.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then he let out a sound—not quite a laugh, but something close. A wheezy, half-scrambled chuckle, like an old VCR trying to play a warped tape.

His head tilted to the side, and his screen flickered again. A soft glow. A little animation—a TV with legs sitting on a couch, popcorn in hand.

“…You’re weird.”

You smiled. “Maybe a little.”

He slumped back into his chair with a mechanical sigh, one hand running down the side of his screen like he was physically powering himself down. The static fizzled out, leaving only a dim, flickering white glow.

“Fine,” he muttered. "This didn’t happen. I wasn’t about to short-circuit or whatever you think you saw. If anyone asks, I was just... adjusting my contrast settings.”

“No promises,” you teased, tapping your clipboard gently. “But hey… thanks for not melting down.” Looks like your first paycheck will be an earned one.

He gave a soft static hum in response, barely audible.

Then, just before the silence could stretch too long, his screen lit up with one final message, typed in clunky, retro font:

THANKS FOR WATCHING.

And this time, it wasn’t sad.

…

The static fizzled out.

Silence hung in the air, but this time, it didn’t crackle with tension. It was something softer. Tentative. Like the room was afraid to break whatever fragile truce had just been formed between chaos and calm.

Then a chair scraped quietly. Papers rustled. The higher-ups began shifting in their seats, murmuring among themselves in low voices, their once-stern faces now marked with something that might have been relief.

Kairos tapped the end of her pen against her clipboard, eyebrows raised in something close to approval. “Well,” she said, standing slowly. “That went… better than expected.”

“I thought he was going to overload again,” someone muttered.

“Or throw the table through the glass,” another added, half-joking, half-serious.

Kairos didn’t smile, but her expression softened as she looked at you. “Not bad, liaison. You might actually survive this gig.”

Another higher-up leaned toward her, murmuring just loud enough for you to hear: “Good call on this one. We might’ve found the right match for him.”

You didn’t say anything. You just nodded, still standing beside Tenna, whose glow had dimmed to a low white hum like a set left on in a dark room. He didn’t speak again—not really. But his screen flickered faintly. And that was enough.

The suits filed out slowly, muttering updates and schedules to one another, the crisis seemingly defused for now. You picked up your clipboard, still warm where your hands had gripped it earlier, and cast one last glance at Tenna before turning to follow them out.

As you reached the door, you heard the softest burst of static behind you—almost like a whisper.

“...Don’t be late tomorrow.”

You smiled without turning around.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

_______

PART 2

[aventurineswife]

Platonic request⭐️!

teen!reader whose like Jinx from Arcane with Dan heng, Boothill, Aventurine, Silverwolf, and Blade.(All separately)

I’d like to think that the characters just stumbled upon reader at some point and just ended up dragging them along with somehow.(Character casually picking them up as if they were some sad wet cat left in the rain)

Bonus points if you give us a Boothill being a girl dad moment btw.

Some Things Just Stick

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Blade x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Platonic Relationships, Found Family, Stray cat energy (Reader), Protective , Jinx (Arcane) like Reader, Banter & Humor, Hurt/Comfort Elements, Implications Of A Rough Past (Reader), Boothill being an accidental dad.

Warnings: Mild violence (mentions of fights, gunplay, and Blade being, well… Blade), Mentions of past trauma (Reader and characters), Implications of neglect/survival struggles (Reader), Boothill casually threatening someone with a gun (protective dad mode), Explosive tendencies (Reader is a little menace with engineering skills), Blade being emotionally unavailable but still taking care of Reader, Dan Heng internally sighing forever, Lots of sarcasm and playful threats.

A/N: I'm gonna let y’all know this is gonna be OOC because, while I'm writing this, I'm on episode 2 of season 1

[Part 1] | [Part 2]

Dan Heng did not sign up for this.

And by this, he meant the wild-eyed teenager currently sprawled out in the Archives, tinkering with something that absolutely did not belong to them.

"You’re going to break that," Dan Heng said flatly, watching as you poked at a delicate piece of Express technology with a screwdriver you had clearly stolen from the maintenance bay.

"That’s the fun part," you chirped, not even looking up. Your fingers twitched as you adjusted the wiring, blue sparks flying as you laughed, unbothered.

Dan Heng sighed, rubbing his temples. March and the Trailblazer just had to pick up a stray.

You had come aboard the Express by accident—a stowaway found shivering in a cargo bay during a pit stop. Your story had been vague, something about getting "bored" and "wanting an adventure" while heavily implying a past you didn’t want to talk about. March, of course, had immediately decided you were part of the crew now, while the Trailblazer had just shrugged and gone along with it. Dan Heng, however, was still questioning how exactly you had attached yourself to him.

At first, you had been like an untamed animal, skittish and unpredictable, yet stubbornly following him around the Express. Over time, though, you started listening when he told you not to mess with the train’s core systems. You learned to recognize his moods—when to push him, when to leave him be. Somehow, without meaning to, Dan Heng had ended up… responsible for you.

He sighed. "At least tell me what you're making."

You grinned up at him. "Boom."

Dan Heng’s blood ran cold. "Boom?"

"Boom!" You gestured to the mess of wires and circuits. "Just a little one. A harmless one. Probably. Maybe."

Dan Heng pinched the bridge of his nose. "No explosives on the Express."

You pouted but set the device down with a dramatic sigh, flopping onto your back. "You’re no fun."

"I am fun," he said, deadpan. "I just don’t enjoy unnecessary explosions in an enclosed space."

You grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. "Sooo, if I built something outside…?"

"Still no."

You groaned loudly, throwing an arm over your eyes. Dan Heng looked down at you—this stray cat of a person, chaotic and loud yet strangely endearing. Despite himself, he sighed and handed you a book from the shelf.

"Read this instead," he said. "It’s about engineering. No explosives."

You eyed him suspiciously before taking it. "…You really are trying to make me boring, huh?"

Dan Heng shook his head. "No. Just… less likely to blow yourself up."

Blade was used to blood. To violence. To the kind of suffering that never truly healed.

He was not used to… whatever this was.

"Stop staring at me like that," he muttered.

You didn’t. If anything, you leaned closer, peering up at him with unnerving curiosity. "You do blink, right? Like, I haven’t actually seen it happen, and I’m starting to think maybe you’re part statue—"

Blade exhaled sharply through his nose, gripping the hilt of his sword. He should’ve just left you where he found you—half-starved, covered in soot, and scavenging in the ruins of some forgotten world. But something about the way you had laughed despite the wreckage around you had kept him from walking away.

"Why am I still here?" you asked suddenly, rocking back on your heels. "Like, not that I’m complaining, but you seem like the type to leave people behind."

He was that type. Had been, many times. Yet, for some reason, he had not left you.

"You’re useful," he said simply.

You snorted. "That’s a lie, but okay, edgelord."

Blade twitched. "Edgelord?"

You grinned at his reaction. "What, you don’t like nicknames? C’mon, you look like a guy who collects angsty monologues for fun."

Blade inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as if summoning patience from the void itself. Maybe he should have left you behind. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew he wouldn’t.

There was something about you—something reckless, something broken, something that reminded him of himself. He didn’t know why, but he had picked you up like a stray left out in the cold.

And despite everything, he hadn’t let you go.

Boothill had dealt with a lot of things in his life—gunfights, betrayals, bounty hunters, and enough explosions to last several lifetimes.

He had not, however, ever expected to end up with a kid hanging off his arm like an overgrown possum.

"You do know you can walk, right?" he drawled, glancing down at you as you clung to his mechanical arm, feet dangling in the air.

"Yeah, but this is more fun," you chirped, kicking your legs.

Boothill sighed dramatically but didn’t shake you off. He had found you during a raid on an IPC outpost—scrawny, wild-eyed, covered in soot but grinning like you had just pulled the greatest prank in the universe. You had latched onto him immediately, and for some reason, he had let you.

Now, here you were, an extra shadow at his side, jabbering a mile a minute while he tried to track down an IPC target.

"You ever not talk?" Boothill asked, adjusting his hat.

"Mm… nope."

"Figures."

You hummed, watching as he checked the sights on his revolver. "So, like, if you had a kid, would you be, like, a cool dad or a scary dad?"

Boothill blinked. "What kinda question is that?"

"An important one."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Guess I’d be both."

You grinned. "Yeah, I can see it. You’ve got ‘cool but terrifying’ vibes. Like, you’d let your kid get away with stuff, but if anyone else messed with them, you’d go full murder mode."

Boothill tilted his head, considering it. "Reckon you’re not wrong."

You smirked, still hanging onto his arm like a little gremlin. "Guess that makes you my scary cool dad now."

Boothill stared at you for a long moment before sighing, tipping his hat forward to hide the amused glint in his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, kid. Guess it does."

Boothill had one golden rule—don’t mess with his own.

And right now, some lowlife was doing just that.

"Kid," he drawled, stepping in front of you as the thug sneered. "Y’wanna tell me why this fella’s lookin’ at you like that?"

You shrugged. "I may have stolen his gun parts."

Boothill sighed. "May?"

"Okay, definitely."

The thug growled, stepping closer. "You little—"

Boothill moved faster.

A single, precise gunshot rang out, and the thug froze as Boothill’s revolver hovered an inch from his face.

"Now, now," Boothill said lazily, "let’s not be rude to the kid."

You grinned from behind him, hands on your hips. "Told you I had a scary cool dad."

Boothill just sighed. "What am I gonna do with you, kid?"

[nemisuki]

⋆✎˚˖ || All fics are listed in chronological order from most recent stories — starting at the top of each character — for it to slowly descend towards the more older and sloppier works! p.s all my drabbles are listed at the end of character as well!

feel free to reblog any of my writing but please no spam liking bc it can actually shadowban me! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡

And once again, if you want to be tagged in my all MHA works — or just Bakugo stories — then look at my taglist and join my beautiful community!

ᯓ✮⋆˙ ᗷᗩKᑌGO KᗩTSᑌKI ⋆✴︎˚꩜

Scuffle - When trying to make friends goes wrong, he’ll protect you, even if it means getting into a fight (fluff)

Loving You - Growing up as the chubby girl, you didn’t ever think you’d get your prince charming, turns out you were wrong (angst, fluff, happy ending)

Storm - The rain ruined your date, but at least it ended with a kiss (fluff)

Champion - Who could’ve guessed your childhood crush would become your knight… literally (fluff)

Brawl - Your boyfriend is a little mean to others, but never to you, after all he’d fight your enemies (fluff)

Speeding - Just your man driving over to protect you from a cat caller, he’d even break the law for you (fluff)

Rumors - When hiding your secret relationship leads to sneaky note passing and cutting classes (fluff)

Dawnbreak - Ever since they were children, his birthdays have always become staple memories in their love story (fluff)

Pixels - Only he could be needy in minecraft! (fluff)

True Name - A compilation of her favorite nicknames that he rarely uses! (fluff)

Headlines - He'll protect you from the paparazzi (fluff)

The Recipe - Baking somehow turns into him realizing his feelings?! (fluff)

Nightfall - Touching her was all he could think about (heavy suggestive themes)

Half Time - How dare you wear someone else’s jersey?! (fluff)

Smooches - Guess even the grumpy blonde craves affection sometimes! (fluff)

Two Lanes - He knows the infamous sidewalk rule and acts on it! (fluff) 

His Cure - Time to ask the pretty medic out before someone steals her away (fluff)

Treasures - A knight falling for his princess (fluff)

Devotion - Reminding his girlfriend how beautiful she is (fluff)

Sip sip sip - Picking up your drunk clingy boyfriend, who gets soft when intoxicated (fluff)

Just Swim - Catch a mermaid and fall in love (fluff)

Odd Disaster - Your boyfriend has a puppy?! (fluff)

Explosive Love - How ice skating led to him yearning for the new couples first kiss (fluff)

For The Future - Him apologizing for his past mistakes (fluff)

New Colors - Who could’ve guessed the bratty 5 yr old had a crush on his classmate (fluff)

His Necessity - A boys perspective on falling for the bakery girl (fluff)

You Finally Noticed - Following a girls journey to becoming his girlfriend… oh and on Valentine’s Day! (Fluff)

The Audacity - Your boyfriend is too pretty to be kept untouched (fluff)

Stay By Me - A cheesy scenario with a couple and a crowded train (fluff)

After Hours - He is more then just a hothead and she knows it (angst, fluff)

Shared Success - Finding him after the war was your priority (spoilers beware)

Intertwined - Short oneshot of his girlfriend easing away his troubles (fluff)

The Wolf and Bunny - Forbidden love between two people never felt so good (fluff)

Love the Chef - A short oneshot of you falling for him. The reason? His little laugh (fluff)

Sudden Shower - Maybe growing up leads you to new journeys, like a breakup? (angst, no happy ending)

A Special Day - Celebrating your birthday with him! (fluff)

Just Smile - Who knew you could become so close with your favorite idol? (fluff)

Metal Love - When a half human-half robot joins class 3A on a mission, what does the blonde do? Catches feelings of course! (fluff)

Good soup - He never expected meeting her would be the reason to learning a whole new language…. just to confess (fluff)

Sunshine - A short oneshot of jealous bakugo and an oblivious girl who is unaware of a lot of things… including their romance (fluff)

Behind The Walls - The only thing keeping you sane throughout this sudden zombie apocalypse is a fiery blonde, so why did fate have to cruelly separate you two? (angst, happy ending)

Trick or Treat - Perhaps wearing matching costumes will give you the courage to confess to the blonde on halloween night (fluff)

A Simple Click - A chibi blonde avatar started spamming her inbox to join his guild (fluff)

Racing Hearts - A small wholesome moment between a hot head and his girlfriend. Yet the hot head is actually shy of affection? (fluff)

Morning Routine - She never would’ve expected her life to revolve around waking up next to him, but who knew he was a secret softie at heart (fluff)

⤷ mini drabbles : one || two || three ❀࿐

ᯓ✮⋆˙ IᘔᑌKᑌ ᗰIᗪOᖇIYᗩ ⋆✴︎˚꩜

Guidance - After noticing his increasing confidence after the war, you ask your crush for some advice (fluff)

Love me - Trying to confess to your awkwardly dense classmate goes better then expected (fluff)

Good Will - Helping a crying classmate on field day (fluff)

ᯓ✮⋆˙ SᕼOTO TOᗪOᖇOKI ⋆✴︎˚꩜

Freeze - Eating some ice cream leads to stronger bonds, vulnerability and radiant smiles (fluff)

Silence - Class 3A being dorks and finding out the truth of the hidden couple among them (fluff)

ᯓ✮⋆˙ EIᒍIᖇO KIᖇISᕼIᗰᗩ ⋆✴︎˚꩜

Watch me - Love can be a scary thing, but not for him, he’ll try anything for you to notice him (fluff)

Falling For You - Crushing on your friendly classmate, led to sparks of jealousy (fluff)

⤷ mini drabbles : one ❀࿐

ᯓ✮⋆˙ ᗪᗩᗷI ⋆✴︎˚꩜

Twisted - Claiming his woman in the most villainous way possible (fluff, suggestive themes)

⤷ mini drabbles : one ❀࿐

ᯓ✮⋆˙ SᑌKᑌᑎᗩ ᖇYOᗰEᑎ ⋆✴︎˚꩜

Heated - He’d set fire to the world but not you (fluff)

⤷ mini drabbles : one ❀࿐

ᯓ✮⋆˙ SᗩTOᖇᑌ GOᒍO ⋆✴︎˚꩜

Stay Here - The strongest isn't so strong without his lover, no shocker there, he's just a bit clingy (fluff)

Winter Breeze - Always running late for school but spotting a pretty stranger at the train station might make you arrive early from now on (fluff)

⤷ mini drabbles : one ❀࿐

ᯓ✮⋆˙ ᑕᕼOSO KᗩᗰO ⋆✴︎˚꩜

Dimples - He was a punk and she did ballet... literally. When two people of opposite worlds meet, love is sure to bloom (fluff)

ᯓ✮⋆˙ SᗩᑎEᗰI SᕼIᑎᗩᘔᑌGᗩᗯᗩ ⋆✴︎˚꩜

Welcome Home - Only one special hashira is allowed heal his injuries (fluff)

© NEMISUKI, DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE OR MODIFY MY WORK + ALL HEADERS/DIVIDERS ARE MINE!

[cheeseatlantic]

yuhh one look give em whiplash!!! beat drop with a big flash korean korean korean think fast!!!!

CoD characters as parents!

price, gaz, ghost, soap, alejandro, rudy, graves, valeria, keegan, hesh, logan, ajax, kick and könig… 😞

Price would be a very nice dad, as in would be the dad that LOVES his kid’s friends, takes them as his own and if a friend comes to his house they are eating at least a snack. but a partner? quokka fluffy price is being brutally stabbed and his cold captain comes into play, silently judging your kid’s partner and you have to hit him and scold him to be nice. eventually warms up and the two go on fishing trips together.

Gaz carries around two pink sparkly backpacks for his two daughters, loves them. And those bags have all the essentials, snacks, toys, change of clothes and hand sanitizer. Doesn’t matter where you go the backpack is coming too, and he insists on carrying it too! You just watch him take over and you just relax. Probably cried on the first day he dropped his girls off at school.

Soap, this man holds his son like a dad holding a fish, funniest shit ever. Accidentally swears in front of his son, his son is like a parrot and says the swears everywhere and Johnny thinks it’s funny, until you get mad at him for teaching the kid how to swear. Definitely makes explosives with the kiddo in the backyard, keeps them safe of course but scares the shit out of you.

Ghost? GIRL DAD THROUGH AND THROUGH. Him with a teenage girl is a dangerous combo, any boy looks at her funny to Simon and he’s pulling up to pick his little girl up in full tactical gear to scare off any potential boyfriends/girlfriends. Definitely helps her with school projects, except he’e massive and somehow accidentally makes minor mistakes. Or has stickers on his face, has his nails painted occasionally or plays princess dress up and drinks his tea pinky out and legs crossed, little plastic princess heels made for a four year old on his big toes.

Alejandro would definitely encourage your kid(s) to do extracurriculars, and at events he will be the absolute loudest person cheering. With signs, and everything. Let’s use soccer as an example he would be a soccer dad, got the van and everything. Makes sure the kids respect you, if not they will get a scolding and a firm tap with the slipper, he would never hurt him.

Rudy would be the most tolerant dad ever, want to stay out late? Maybe if he knows who his kid is out with, sure. A sucker for puppy dog eyes though, one time his kid saw someone selling bunnies on the side of the road and looked at it for a second too long, few years down the line you have a rabbit the size of a small dog and Rudy absolutely adores it.

Graves is the daddest of all dad’s if that makes sense. Does the weird throat thing at ungodly hours, the hand thing when the kids have snacks in the car and carries them around on his shoulders, probably cream abuses them (aggressive lotion application)… Makes sure his kids get outside and they will have a strict screen time limit until like middle school. Caught him playing Barbies with your daughter once.

Valeria is the definition of protective mother, she would be strict but means well. If one of her men lets say scares your kid she is yelling at the man until he cries. Definitely keeps her kids out of her line of work, but never her line of sight. HELICOPTER MAMAAAAAA

Keegan would be the type of dad to stay up with your baby when their fussing at night, or as you guys call it ‘the night shift’. When the baby starts babbling he just nods along, tells you that “Look at ‘em! Planning world domination, definitely my spawn.” Would tell them to take swimming classes and all that survival shit to be safe when their older. Made the baby a tiny version of his mask and carries a rattle wherever he goes in his pocket. (mandatory)

Hesh would definitely make Riley reveal the gender with a tennis ball filled with pink or blue pigment, trained Riley to bring him clean diapers, pacifiers and everything. Him and Riley are basically teaming up to raise this kid, and you don’t really have to worry about much.

Logan would be very interesting, would give your baby a whole apple to eat if their growing their teeth in but makes them wear an apron and keeps the area extremely clean if their painting. Frames every little painting and probably does those cute little crafts with them like the pumpkin butt thingy.

Ajax is probably the funnest dad quite literally ever, installed a whole play place in your guys’ backyard just because, makes sure to make the kiddos childhood as memorable as possible which means doing stupid shit with them and occasionally ending up at the doctors for a broken arm or something. Definitely freaks out when they get sick and buys everything, just piles the medications at the store in when you ask him for medicine.

Kick is totally becoming a soccer mom, Lululemon insulated mug, the van and a cooler with snacks in the back. Probably known as the ‘cool dad’ at your kid’s school. Definitely feeds into brainrot and such to keep the cool dad status. Your kid probably turned into a partial iPad kid.

Seeing König with a baby for the first time was absolutely hilarious to you because he was so big and the kid was so small, definitely refused to breathe on the baby incase he hurt it. But once he started holding the baby he turned into a jungle gym, let’s the baby use his mask as a baby blankie, made himself a new one. Spends way too much on the baby… A concerning amount.

i really feel sigma rn guys

[mini-minish]

nathaniel wesninski & andrew doe au i picked up from a 2021 sketch 🪓🖤🔪

notes under the read more!

• andrew doe gets adopted into the wesninski family when he's just a little older than nathaniel, who hasnt been sent to edgar allen tryouts yet, and andrew doe is trained to be his bodyguard since childhood

• mary doesn't like it, he becomes a weakness for her son and when she leaves she refuses to take andrew with them, so nathaniel stays, and in that mary never really gets to leave

• on the same day she fails at running away and nathan finds them, nathaniel loses his eye lolastyle

• one time when he's a little older, andrew receives a letter, from a boy who claims to be his twin. andrew minyard doe throws it to the fire, and nathaniel picks it up while he's turned, before it burns completelly

• from the day nathaniel gets injured because he refused to leave andrew behind, they go from annoyed acquaintances to inseparable friends

• he calls andrew "drew" and andrew pretends to hate it. later when theyre older the name "nathaniel" starts to weight, starts to sound weird, so he asks andrew to call him something else, and andrew calls him alex, stefan, adam, until they get to neil

• but he only calls him neil when theyre alone, when its a secret, when nathan cant hear them

• "nathaniel" takes up the axe. he's as good a hitman as the little devil of baltimore has to be. he hates it, hates the color red, the color of his hair

• one of andrew's first memories at the house is of nathan cutting a man to pieces and making him watch, making him learn not to flinch, but red is the color of neil's hair, soft, safe, soothing

• before that, though, theres little league. theres learning andrew is talented at exy, theres kevin day, and riko moriyama, and theres jean moreau

• i want jean and andrew to be funny about each other just for some levity here ok

• the reynolds are a renowed fashion brand, far from them to refuse big mafia money, so they work on suits, on silk shirts, on tailored pants, and allison reynolds is always joined by her friend renee when she goes with her parents for fittings

• renee walker meets andrew doe, and andrew thinks shes silly enough to keep in touch.

• kevin day leaves them, and neil realises he doesnt have to be kept either. kevin day gets to get out and nathaniel wesninski gets quieter.

• neil finds his uncle's contact among some of the things his mother left behind. from stuart he gets to ichirou. from ichirou he starts to make a plan

• riko moriyama is going to make a big announcement soon, something about the perfect court, something that will finally brand the rest of them as his, and well, andrew has always told neil how much he hates that the pen's ink makes the skin of his face break out

• and neil still has the address of a boy who claims to be his andrew's twin

• for whatever reason the moriyamas and the wesninskis have one of those rich people dinners planned. neil gets kevin to show up, nathaniel gets andrew to leave, kicking and punching and a promise broken

• later in the night, a little after the first course is served and they begin the socializations, neil gets kevin to leave, leave, run as far as possible, *now*.

• he sees jean, grabs his wrist, and takes him outside. theyre walking fast before neil starts running, and then the explosion comes from inside the house, from the basement, and knocks both of them out before they turn the corner. the hathford's men long gone from the scene.

• all renee walker and andrew doe see from where he's been waiting for the little voice at the back of his mind to make sense, is the house bursting on fire, believing that it does so with what he's supposed to protect still inside

• but since i can't bring myself to do this to them, andrew finds him, finds jean, and at the hospital finds stuart, who takes his nephew in

• he gets contacted by a man called david wymack, who was convinced by kevin day to offer them a place among his foxes :)

[sweettoothy]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃

╰ SHOW ﹕ ARCANE !

︵ WARNING(S) ﹕╰ swearing ⸝ violence ﹕ sex

︵ relationship ﹕ Vi x fem!fragile!reader x Caitlyn

— pt.2 : watch it all burn.

⟣・S2・HEAVY IS THE CROWN︰

THE SOUND OF screaming could be heard when you had awoken from being on the ground, your hair in a messy style as you couldn’t see your surroundings. was Jayce and viktor okay? was everyone alright? mel..? of course you wouldn’t know, everything in your body hurt, it felt like some sort of piece of metal lodged in your side.

Being a well trained solider had its many perks but you weren’t prepared for this. Of course you weren’t. like they say, the most unexpected things come.

For you though it felt a little far fetched whenever your mom would tell you the stories about the ghost and salem. Where the witch would be haunted down and hunted but towards the end they found her having did no wrong doing.

Sad tale it was. really.

Everything on your body hurt like hell, the only voice you could hear was Jayce’s. was he carrying you and viktor? probably.

That dude had some incredible strength.

JAYCE SITS IN a chair with his head in his hand, looking over at viktor who lays inside the hextech. seeing you and viktor in this condition was tearing him limb from limb, not in a gruesome way but a much more sadder way.

He had hated not being able to protect the both of you, it felt like hell. But you know, some things just come and go…you lay there on a bed with a bunch of iv’s attached to your arms and lower half, your hair was in a messy bun since Jayce had tried thing it himself.

Mel walks inside his office as she takes a look around, her eyes landing on Jayce. “How are they?” She questioned.

“Same as before. They’re both breathing.” Jayce answers in reply, a distressed look on his face. “Their pluses are consistent. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mines.”

Mel walks over to viktor, her eyes landing on the hextech as she starts reaching her hand out with curiosity. When she goes to touch it, it reacts differently with her making her gasp and step back.

“What’s it doing to him?” Mel questions.

“The hexcore has been evolving.” Jayce explains, “shifting through runic patters faster than I can keep up. All I know for certain is that it’s keeping him and her alive.”

Jayce eyes land on where you laid, his heart aching with devastation as he sees you reacting differently to the hextech aside from viktor, your body was rejecting it but also accepting it at the same time.

If it was the only thing keeping you alive he wasn’t gonna mess with it.

“It should be me up there instead of him. I should be laying in that bed instead of her,” Jayce grumbled, gesturing to an unconscious you on the bed barely breathing. “Vi and cait are gonna lose it.”

“Don’t say that.” Mel placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “They’ll both come back to us.”

“I still don’t understand.” Jayce replies. “They were both right next to me. How does the explosion do that to them, and I just…? I just walk out without a scratch? [name] almost lost a hand, my god.”

Mel sighs. “There’s no sense to these things, Jayce.”

The male was quiet for a while before speaking again, “how’d it go with the council?” he asks.

Mel scoffs. “My mother’s entered the game. She’s already gotten her hooks into salo. Using his grief to make a play for hextech.”

“Mel, I promised viktor, never again.” Jayce tells the woman.

Mel places her hand over his. “It’s all right. I handled it. I won’t let them corrupt your dream.”

Jayce looks over at an unconscious you again, before laying his head on mel’s thighs, tears threaten to fall down his eyes but he holds them back.

He just wanted you and viktor back, that’s all.

You were very important to caitlyn and vi after all.

“I should get going now.” Mel says, “you might want to spend some alone time with them.”

With that, she stood up and patted his shoulder one last time before walking out the door. The door slams shut behind her by itself, making Jayce flinch a little.

He feels you stir, his head perks up immediately.

When it does, he saw you already staring at him, a confused look on your gaze.

“What was that about?” You questioned, sitting up with your back pressed against the pillows. It was a little hard to breathe but it was manageable with the breathing machine.

“I don’t even care-- i just-- you’re--?” Jayce launches forward and pulls you into a huge, a huge so tight you had gasped. He wasn’t hugging you too tight as though you couldn’t breathe— he just hugged you with desperation and worry.

“Woah! hey, hey, it’s okay.” You reassured, patting his back. “I’m okay.”

He was so happy to hear your voice.

“ONE OF THE MANY PRIVILEGES OF SERVING AS YOUR COUNCILOR IS HAVING THE OCCASION NOW AND AGAIN TO STAND BEHIND THIS PODIUM TO BEHOLD SO MANY JOINED TOGETHER NOT BY BIRTH OR DICTUM BUT BY ALL THAT WE SHARE.” MEL SPOKE as you stood by the other guards to keep watch, your back was leaned against the wall as the wound with the patch on your side was being healed. Your biceps flexing under the light as your toned abs still hurting from the explosion, but the wounds would heal, you were sure.

You glanced down at the tattoo on your hip and let your thumb graze over it, remembering when it was given.

You see one of the enforcers walk past you, you look them up and down by their attire before your brows furrowed— something felt wrong.

Heading into the crowd you lock gazes with vi, the both of you nodding towards one another before following the enforcer. But another person caught your attention as well, making you turn around and face the other way.

“The hell..?” You whisper lowly.

You push past the crowd of civilians as your hips sway when walking, and you walked with a purpose.

To figure out who the hell these people were.

Walking over to the other enforcers you climbed over the railing, your thighs still hurting but of course you forgot to bring your crutches for support. But it’s whatever.

“Wait, wait, ma’am you can’t--“

“Excuse me, I’m an enforcer too.” You say firmly as your eyes narrowed at the man. “So I can get pass, just like the rest of you.”

“We can’t even go in, so we can’t let you in either.”one of the enforcers replies. “Plus, you’re still injured from the attack so…”

Your piercing (e/c) eyes looked into the man’s brown ones, making his eyes widen a little— least to say, he was intimidated.

“Move, please,” you pleaded this time. “I feel like something is very wrong.”

Caitlyn looks over her shoulder and noticed the panicked look on your face— you would never randomly fuss about anything.

She knew something was wrong.

“Awful, isn’t it?”

Jayce looks over his shoulder when he hears a woman’s voice.

“Losing a loved one.”

When Jayce slowly turns around, the woman slips off her mask as she grabs her chainsaw, swining it at Jayce who barely dodged out of the way quickly.

Everyone starts screaming and shouting, rushing off to find somewhere safe.

“Get all the civilians to safety.” You told the enforcers before turning around to go and find Jayce, your leg still hurting from the explosion. you couldn’t walk around with a weak and injured leg but you thought against it.

“Jayce!” You shouted, searching for him. “Where are you? Jayce?!”

Someone suddenly slams you into a wall, making you hit the solid platform hard. A weak cry of pain escapes past your lips as you slid down the wall, clutching your arm.

Staggering to your knees, you rushed to get away from whatever was chasing you.

Get away, get away, get away

That was just going through your mind.

Something slashes in your back through your coat, “ah!” You shriek as you collapsed to your knees and hit the ground. Back arched as you tried crawling away from whatever had attacked you.

They grab onto your hair, arm wrapping around your neck once they finally got the chance to turn you around, the air in your lungs seemed to have collapsed the second they tighten their large hand around your throat.

You kick and flail your legs around as you gasped for air, eyes heavy and face turning blue as you choked— the breath you were now trying to breathe was very toxic seeping into your nostrils and throat.

You use your fists to hit at the man’s hands, he watched with a sadistic grin on his lips as the life in your eyes were starting to fade.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the life in your eyes seemed to have been fading.

“Get the fuck away from her!” Vi shouted as she rushed towards the much bigger man and knocked him in the face with her knee.

You collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as you clutched at your own throat.

Vi rushed over to you with concern, cupping your cheek as she leaned over you. “Are you okay? does anything hurt?”

“Vi?” You croaked weakly, grasping at her wrist.

Vi presses your hand against her fast beating chest, concern wiping her features. “It’s me. It’s me. you’re okay.”

She helps you up, “I’ll be right back. go and try to find cait, okay?”

You nodded before rushing off to find caitlyn.

“Cait!” You called out.

You couldn’t even get as far before you hit the ground, passing out.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

[fatkish]

Aizawa and Class 1A x Student Alchemist Reader

In this, the reader has the same tattoos as scar. The reader’s left arm deconstructs molecules and their right arm reconstructs molecules.

The reader is quirkless so they use Alchemy to even the odds and are good at combat.

The reader took the entrance exam and has similar grade to Momo. Momo and the Reader share the 1/20 place amongst their peers

The reader aced the written test and destroyed the robots by using their alchemy to disassemble them. They got 45 villain points and 45 rescue points

When the teachers were looking over the students papers, Aizawa and Nedzu were amazed and skeptical of the reader being quirkless

Aizawa didn’t believe that you were quirkless so he used his quirk on you during his quirk apprehension test. Obviously it failed and he realized your were being honest on your paperwork. Still grilled you about it

Aizawa is ever so slightly more protective and stricter on you than other students. He worries all the time so he is a little harsher on you but you know that he just wants to push you a little more

You’re currently studying both flame and medical alchemy. You tend to study with recovery girl and help her out whenever you get the chance

During All Might’s hero vs villain training you were paired with Momo (Mineta didn’t get into the hero course) against Jirou and Kaminari. You won by creating a sleeping gas and put them to sleep whilst you and Momo wore gas masks she made

Bakugou refuses to admit your strength but has a secret respect for you since you beat him by altering his sweat’s molecules so it wasn’t explosive

Izuku has so many notes on you and has asked to draw your tattoos and you even began to teach him basic alchemy, although he sucks at it

When questioning you, you told Izuku that you were quirkless which he accidentally let it slip to his friends who then let the class know

After that you explained to the class that alchemy can be performed by anyone, it just take years of study and practice to perform and understand the basic rules and applications

Some didn’t believe you so you removed your shoe to show them all your second joint in your pinky toe as proof

Some still have a hard time believing it but most of the class accepted it

Kirishima, Sero, Iida, Jirou and Uraraka think you’re (manly) incredible and ambitious for dedicating yourself to something and making yourself strong despite the odds

Ashido, Kaminari and Hagakure still don’t believe that you’re quirkless

Tokoyami and Shoji both admire your strength and perseverance in trying to become a hero despite lacking a power and having been ridiculed and criticized for your dreams

Ojiro and you train in martial arts often as a means to strengthen one another

Tsuyu and you get along just fine as you both are some of the more mature students in classs

You tend to hang out with the quiet kids like Shoji, Tokoyami and Koda

You and Momo both bond over and help each other study the molecular make up of certain items

During the USJ attack, you used your flame alchemy on the Nomu. You used your conductive gloves to create the flames and tried to roast the Nomu

You took Hatsume’s place on Midoriya’s team in the Calvary battle

You fought Iida in the first rounds and won by creating a rugged and difficult terrain to run in as a means to slow him down, then you used your alchemy to seal his engines and managed to hit him in a pressure point that immobilized him

Todoroki was amazed when you were able to beat him in the sports festival. You turned his ice into water and then changed the arrangement of the stage’s molecular structure to that of quicksand and used the ground to swallow him up, winning your match.

Bakugou was pissed off when you altered your body’s carbon to be on the outside creating a skin of diamond like armor that his explosions couldn’t beat

You got 1st place in the festival but All Might accidentally let it slip during the award ceremony that you were quirkless

You got the third most offers from pros for internships out of the class

You ended up going with Best Jeanist and had a rather good time compared to Bakugou

After the Internships were over, you had mastered your flame alchemy and used it against All Might in your practical exam

Bonus: Todoroki learned that you can’t use flame alchemy when it’s raining or if your wet and accidentally started the ‘useless when wet’ shtick.

Now Bakugou makes fun of you whenever you get your gloves wet and acts like you need protection and enjoys babying you.

[vampireapple]

Just Some Guy

Humans have a bizarre take on what is truly specular human behavior, and what is just a human having fun.

.  .  .

If you ask a human, any human, about the incredible physical feats achieved by this race you will notice a common trend. They will respond with stories about trained professionals. Such as the doctor who removed his own internal organ.

Or a group of the first space explorers whose ship had basically shut down but still made it back to earth.

Or the crafty officer who brought down one of the most violent and corrupt criminals.

Or the countless soldiers who jump on explosives to save their comrades and don’t die.

They will nod solemnly and talk about these trained professional’s bravery, and how this is what the race aspires to be. Smart, caring, brave, and unflinching in the face of extreme, or even deadly, odds.

But if dig a little deeper you’ll find other fascinating stories, such as mothers and fathers who risk their lives, or even die, for their children.

“Those are their kids? What are they supposed to do, let them get hurt or killed? All decent people will help protect a kid, and that’s just quantified when its your kid.”

Or older siblings who save the lives of their younger siblings:

“Hey, being the eldest is serious business! Of course you gotta protect the younger ones!”

Seemingly frail elder humans who won’t let themselves to be a victim.

“Ya know, its not that common, but its also not that unheard of. Made respect to them. Makes you wonder what they did when they were younger.”

Or strangers who will defend others.

“Well, those punks were being a bully. Of course she’s going to do something. She looked hella cool doing it too.” There are stories of humans fighting animals to saved beloved pets or people.

“You don’t mess with a man’s dog. And again, its kinda biologically ingrained in us to help kids.”

Aside from bravery, there are tales of humans surviving incredible misfortunes- getting struck by lighting or falling from great heights, to having to amputate parts of their own limbs to being nearly cut in half to having their head impaled.

“Okay, those are all very extreme examples, and things like this don’t happen often.”

Then there are the humans who seem to not be human at all. They perform all sorts of physically demanding, very carefully practiced, and very impractical stunts.

“Oh, yeah,” humans will say. “That’s just their special interest. They’ve practiced for hours to do that. Super cool. But its just some guy living his best life.”

Humans will not understand, no matter how you present it, how utterly unlike any other species they are.  A human doing an unusual feat is ‘just some guy’ and not a human that has honed a very specific skill.

Humans are very odd. Do not underestimate them.

.

.

.

Hello all! Its been a hot minute, but I’m back. Hope you enjoy this slightly different style of writing!

[diejager]

I love your Only Human fics 😭😭 I can’t help but think what Monster AU 141/Kortac would do if their only human got hurt during a mission….

A continuation maybe please?

Only Human pt3

Pairing: Monster 141 + König + Horangi x reader

CW: blood, injury, canon-typical violence, gun violence, flash grenade go boom boom, explosion, tell me off I missed any. wc: 2.4k

Only Human masterlist

previous

They fucked up, they really flicked up. It was a simple mission, simple enough that you were sent with only three operators. Alejandro with his witness, slinked between enemy lines, shooting up and creating chaos once he shifted, his large body ripping through enemy lines like a hot knife through butter. Gaz with his aerial insights, flew over trees and spotted the soldiers you were shooting through and giving pointers to where they split up and where they collected. And finally, Horangi, stalking between the buildings, jumping from shadow to shadow with a slow sway of his tail, pouncing on his prey with the stealth of a tiger. 

Laswell had promised that it was a quick in-and-out op, slipping through the village at night and taking out the leading figure of this hastily-made gang that was blocking the transport route between two important, allied towns. The shared intel was that it was a gang of ragtag rebels, raiding police stations within the mass, overwhelming the officers with their vast numbers of followers. They stole police equipment, vests, guns, batons, and ammunition, using them to power through the lines of officers and breaking through blockades built by the townsfolk. 

While they weren’t trained in military warfare or had prior training with specialised weapons, they had the advantage of numbers, overwhelming any joint forces with their vast numbers of rebels. It was nearly astounding how many people were being paid and supported by Russia's wealthy Ultranationalists wanting to disrupt the trading routes and hurt the opposing team by prying them of a source of gas and material. 

The few joint forces had slimmed down their numbers, leaving Task Force 141 to clean it up and take over their base of operation within the region. You were told that their numbers rounded a skeleton crew of twenty men, twenty-five at most. That’s why Price sent you four for quick and efficient disposal of the enemy. 

That’s what Laswell gave you, the information burned into your mind from habitual memorization to ensure that your team would be prepared, and yet the data was wrong. Gaz had reported twice the promised number, not as well armed as you were warned but their number brought a changing tide to your mission. You wanted to turn back, to regroup and form another plan, but everyone was already in place and calling them back could be as much of a risk of being caught as storming in. 

Perhaps that’s why you were all so careful and conscious of the dangers, moving in two, Alejandro and Horangi in one part and you walking under Gaz’s protective shadow. The initial plan was to box them in, working through both exits to snuff out any runaways and once you entered the compound, Gaz would drop down and lead ahead. 

That was the plan, until, of course, all hell broke loose. It was chaotic, they were trigger-happy and within untrained hands, their guns were as leather as a trained one with how quickly they spent their magazine, cycling through one and spraying the wall you used for hiding. Soap’s wild clean-up would’ve been extremely helpful in a time like this; Ghost’s hungry haze would’ve swallowed them all up, opening up a way for you to pass; and König’s reckless and unpredictable shift that sent him into a wild frenzy while he tore through the base. 

Unfortunately, they were back home, the little base they called their own when you first joined, yet you still had experienced and protective soldiers by your side, all special forces. Gaz led you with a strong hand and clear head, stopping at every corner to look at all sides before moving forward and you watched his back, looking out for any enemy rounding back. 

Your situation would be - at best - organised chaos, made from what you were given at the moment, faced with a group over a dozen times and without backup waiting behind. There were hushed orders and observations sent back and forth between your groups, cautious warnings on your side and growls from the other. Nick had been informed in case of any immediate evacuation and Laswell, of the sudden change in the plan. You did your best with what you had, leaving bleeding corpses in your wake, slumped over the bloodied floor and against the stained walls, but you hadn’t expected the rapid change of shift in the enemy. They weren’t such men with guns and knives, they were trained - albeit sloppy - in ferality and ruthlessness, jumping at you and Gaz without a second thought.

Every lunge was met with a bullet, rifles firing at the advancing numbers holding a gun, a knife or both, leaving you with a graze or scrape, the skin under your clothes bristled and bleeding. They flooded like moths to a flame, one taking the place of a fallen, and two other taking his place. You were pushed back to back, Gaz’s wings fluttering in stress between you, fighting the need to cover you in a protective shield of muscle and feather. 

“We’re compromised,” Gaz hissed into the mic, sending the message to any open coms on your connected line. “Victor-01, moving your way.”

“Copy,” Alejandro huffed.

Gaz tried leading you away, feet moving fast and steady around the halls you had to memorise for this Op. He tried to lead you safely, but they swarmed you like flies, appearing from every corner in an unending flood of shouting, thumping and firing. Gaz was bound to get hit at this rate, with his big wings and broader shoulders. It worried you that he’d take a bullet for you - you knew he would, as would the others - and get dangerously hurt. Through one door was a group waiting for you, gun trained forwards and ready to fire, but they were slow, sloppy, and they lacked the training and reflexes of a specialist. 

You had time to push Gaz through a door and into a room, you hid on both sides, hiding from the straight line of fire. You unclipped a flash from your belt, waving it at him to catch his attention. It did and his lips broke into a grin, wild and electric at your idea. You had him count down the seconds, his fingers lowering until he balled his fist, shaking it as you pulled the pin out and threw it down the hall. Veering away from the door, eyes closed tightly and hands around your ears, the flash grenade blew up with a loud, ear-piercing screech. It sent them into a blind panic, weapons falling from their hands to rub the burning pain in their cornea, ears deaf to your quick-moving steps towards them, down they went, like those behind you. 

Adrenaline pumped erratically through your veins, bubbling and warming your body to an uncomfortable heat that had you sweating under your gear. You turned another corner and you were closer to Alejandro and Horangi’s location, meeting up with them was your current objective, to regroup and take over the base in one group. They were just down the path, behind the sprinting men in jeans and t-shirts holding guns like it was a big, heavy toy. You could see their tense shoulders relax when they caught sight of you, guard still up and cautious, but glad that you were safe. 

“Hunter,” Horangi hissed, his figure trembling as his nose twitched under his mask. He stared at your shoulder, the damp jacket stained with your blood. “You broken?”

“No, the adrenaline’s keeping me going,” you nodded back, trying to soothe his worry. Being the 141’s medic, you knew the benefits of adrenaline, it numbed the pain, the cold and the burns, but once you calmed down, you’d feel every little scratch.

You limped out of the building, body leaning against Horangi for support, his tail curled around your thigh and body tense in a possessive mood. He kept glancing your way, his golden eyes swirling with worry, pupils small and attentive to every wince you made. He moved according to your pain, urging you to put more weight on him when you walked on your bad leg, where a bullet shot straight through your thigh, bleeding through the quickly put gauze you covered it with and wrapped tightly in bandages. You promised them that you’d properly patch yourself up in the helicopter while they watched before you worked on them. 

With your body riding off the adrenaline that kept you going for the past fifteen minutes, you jerked and winced when you walked on your left leg, the white bandage around your thigh staining red on the side. You were sure Horangi and Alejandro could smell your blood, or they'd been able to smell it before you even saw them, the irony tang wafting around them like a haze of their failure. The failure to let you get hurt and unable to properly protect you, you could feel the tenseness in their shoulders, their lowered head at your smile and the jerky movement when they moved around, seemingly pulling themselves back from doing something. 

Nikolai waved at your group, ushering you in from his seat, strapped safely with his headset on and communication clear between everyone. With a short affirm from Alejandro, Nik took off, the bird curving to the left when he turned west, towards the UK. You waited until the flight was stable, flying through the air softly and steadily before you opened up your pack, searching for items to clean and reward your wound until you returned to the infirmary. You checked your tourniquet, tightening it when you saw that it was slightly loose, ripping open the wrapping around your leg, you reapplied the gauze, adding pressure to it to stop it from bleeding even more. 

You winced and hissed under their watchful eyes, between Alejandro and Horangi, their tails swaying and occasionally curling around your forearm. Gaz, however much he’d like to sit beside you, to fuss and worry openly about your wounds, sat across from you, strapped in with his wings spread wide across the seats. 

“Looks rough, Охотник,” Nik called to the back, light glinting off his glasses. 

“Nothing new, Nik, you know that,” you replied through the coms, a lop-sided smile curling the corners of your lips.

He cackled, a full-belly laugh that had all of you smiling in your own ways. Nikolai was rambunctious, loyal and a big bear of a man. He was human, the other human in the Task Force apart from you (Laswell might’ve been the one sending you across the earth and gathering information, but she - regrettably - wasn’t truly a member.). 

“Да! I do!”

When you landed, the rest of the TF was already waiting outside, arms crossed and shoulders tense. It seemed they got the news of your Op, showing their displeasure with deep frowns and deeper glares, none directed at you or the hybrids, it was some sort of self-hatred and anger at the person that gave Laswell the intel, their promise of it being factual and not sending them any updates on the case. Laswell, herself, was fairly mad, her stressed face pulled sombrely down. 

Soap and Rudy rushed to you, voices low and tones raspy, they hovered near your group, fussing about the blood that caked Alejandro’s forehead, a slight graze from a rifle’s butt and other bruises from slamming into obstacles; Gaz’s slight pinch in the back from being slammed into a wall by a bulldozing enemy when he ran out of ammo; Horangi’s ripped sleeves, gashes bleeding lightly from attempts at slashing and stabbing knives by inexperienced hands; but what worried them the most was you, limping and hanging from Horangi’s shoulders. 

Your eyes were hooded, equal parts exhausted and blood lost, placing all of your weight on the Haetae hybrid. While your upper half was unscathed - apart from the slight bruises forming on your skin - your leg, wrapped tightly in a tourniquet and bandages drowned in red. The amount of red would’ve been worrying if they hadn’t known you, but you’ve survived far more dangerous and life-threatening wounds, bouncing back with revenge. As truthful as it was, it didn’t stop them from worrying. You might’ve been more resilient than most - hybrids credited their resilience to their human parent - you didn’t have the healing ability of hybrids or the immortality of spectres. 

“ ‘m fine, Rudy,” you smiled, so bright and reassuring when you were the wounded one. “Nothing a few stitches and rest won’t heal.”

“Si, but-”

“Doesn’t mean we’re not worried, love.”

Like his callsign, he walked in on your little group silently, peering over Rudolfo’s shoulders, his warm, brown hues meeting yours. His voice was strained with concern, croakier than when you left this morning, waving at them. Rodolfo moved over when Ghost brought his hand forward, Horangi passed you to him with careful and tender hands so that you could be brought to the infirmary without having to walk. You hooked your arms around Ghost’s neck, arms crossed lazily over his back and chin propped up on his shoulder. He held you against his chest, one arm under your ass and another carefully tucked under your knees, watching your wounded leg without touching it. 

You looked at Price and Laswell from your perch, their hushed discussion with shrugging shoulders and crossed arms, but neither looked pleased with the outcome of your mission. You blinked owlishly when you couldn’t find König beside them, head turning from side to side to find the 6 '10 Austrian hybrid, but you still couldn’t find him. Just as you were going to ask Ghost where König was, a hand reached out to grip your forearm, thick fingers softly rubbing your strained muscle. You were met with a veiled face when you turned, brilliant, red eyes stared at your wounded thigh in distaste, his mind throwing him into the scene of the moment, turning and ripping the men that dared harm you to pieces, bloodied and unrecognisable parts of a human. 

“Hey, König,” you called out, pulling him back from his violent daydream where his eyes turned crimson, glazed with bloodlust and rage, promising doom. “Do you want to come with us?”

“Ja,” he replied moments later, snapping to your face with blank eyes, now his regular, ice-blue colour. “To the infirmary first and mess all later. You need to eat and rest well to heal quickly, Schnucki.”

“What about the-”

“You need to rest, lovie. Let them deal with the debrief,” Ghost’s voice was stern and commanding, ending whatever protests you had. 

As if to prove his point, he turned to face Price, his head nudging you to look at your captain, the imposing and dominating figure of Price’s horned head, thick, swaying tail and powerful wing. Price replied with a quick nod, curt in a way that shut down any voice, landing the hammer on the gravel with a resounding boom. You sighed, grumbling lowly about them worrying too much about a flesh wound, exaggerating your condition (in your mind) and threatening them with insubordination that had your commanding officers glare your way.

next

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

[weskie]

The Wolf and The Lamb (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

2000 words, established relationship, wound tending, possessive behavior, biting, blood, briefly saucy, probably counts as angst, part of the lover, leader, liar series | Fic Directory

"Love blackens the lamb." -Hélène Cixous

Wesker has never been one to yearn for a sense of permanence.  Change was a necessity.  One of life’s constants.  The constant in a world of variables.

At any moment, you could walk.  He made sure you knew the consequences long ago, of course.  You’d been presumed dead after the incident at the manor.  It only made sense given the magnitude of the self-destruct sequence.  You could return to the world beyond the compound at any time, but trouble would surely welcome you with open arms.  Justification for your absence would be mandatory, and that’s not to mention the tax-based nightmare that awaited you if and when the IRS should discover that you are not, in fact, deceased.

But you could leave.  

A thought that weighs heavily on his mind day in and out.  He’d never quite been one to be… possessive before.  Why bother when things move along so rapidly?  From the time he was a boy, he’s been going from class to class, school to school, laboratory to laboratory… His time with S.T.A.R.S. seemed to be the most consistent his life had ever been.

And now… there’s you.

You’re unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.  He supposes you’ve always been this way, though.  Always reaching out to him beyond the line others would never dare to cross.  Pushing through whatever shell he’d cocooned himself in for safety.  Distance was a form of protection, he’d come to realize.  Distance shielded him from the pain of loss.  It always has.

Not even Birkin, for all they had been through together, could be more than an admired colleague.  A decision that proved… apt in the end.

It’s difficult to pinpoint the origin of this new screaming need that had made itself more than at home within his chest.  It grows worse, he realizes, every time you treat him with tenderness.  Perhaps that’s where it all began.  Back in the station.  Growing like a living thing until its life spilled into his very being.

“Does it hurt?” 

The skin on his face is broken and marred.  The burns are nothing short of hideous. 

Wesker had regarded you with a scowl and turned toward the bathroom, making his way in to strip away the remnants of his failure.  He’d had half a mind to shatter the mirror.  Had that explosion not interrupted them, he would have torn Chris in two.  Or perhaps beaten him to a bloody pulp.  Maybe he would have even brought his lifeless corpse back to the compound for experimentation.  What is it that makes the Redfields so inexplicably lucky?  To face death and live despite all odds…

Despite him. 

He grit his teeth, leaning forward with clenched eyes.  The edge of the vanity is a fragile buoy in the storm of his own anger.  A new development following his perimortem injection and subsequent gain of power.  Fury comes as easily as breathing these days.  Impulses are a tad harder to control.  Were it not for a lifetime of training and conditioning, Wesker doubts he would have as tight of a lid on it as he does.

He’d only stripped his upper body bare by the time you made your presence known.

You’ve never left him to drown in his rage.  Even then, despite how he’d pushed you away at the door, you still found it in yourself to wrap your arms around his waist and rest your cheek to his back.  You are warm, but his skin runs hot.  In this way, you are like a balm.  Something cooling to douse the hellfire scorching his body and mind.

You made him sit at the edge of the bed.  It’s funny to think of it that way… that you could make him do anything at all.  An impossible feat for any other.  Yet it’s the truth.  Just as you make his anger dissipate bit by bit.  Perhaps it’s the glide of the pads of your thumbs against his forehead that sap away at it.  The way they smooth and slide with loving ease over the parts that hurt, spreading an ointment that chills the belligerent bite into something far more tolerable.

Until now, he hasn’t acknowledged the pain of his injuries.  That was the golden rule throughout his life.  Not minding that it hurts.  Disregarding the pain lest he give it power.  He’s never realized before that such an instinct is absent in your presence.  Here you are tending to his pain.  That which he refuses to acknowledge, you embrace and seek to soothe.

He lets his nails bite into your forearm.  He’s unsure if it’s a way to admit the truth to you or to ensure that you will remain in place, here, tending to him.

He fears the answer is far more complex.

His touches grow more firm by the day, it seems.  A hand at your cheek becomes a grip at your jaw.  An arm around your waist now pulls you tightly to his side.  You’ve noticed, of course.  Commented on it.  He’s never admitted that he can tell how your body reacts to such deeds.

At night, if and when he permits himself to rest, you must be pulled tight to his chest.  In turn, you always make a teasing remark about him being a ‘snuggle bug.’  His hands roam, but he dares not venture too far.  Despite the many months since that fateful night your lips first met his, neither one of you has caved to the call of flesh.  He’s unsure of your reasons, and frankly finds no trouble in the matter either way.  But for himself..?

Lust was no stranger, but you are more than a sensation to be chased and left behind.  As much as he yearns for such a coupling with you, he fears it.  What he may do to you… What you may do to him…

For as much as that burning, yearning need to lay claim to every part of you threatens to overpower his self control, he knows, without a doubt, such a unification would result in you consuming all that he is.  It is excitement and terror all in one.

He’s already given you the power to ruin him.  Maybe, though, he should sink his teeth and nails into you and ensure that you never do.  

The thought runs rampant in his head all day until you settle beside him for a nightly routine you’ve insisted upon taking over since day one.  His arm rests in your lap and, for a time, his mind is silent.  The alcohol pad glides over his skin, followed by a gentle blow of air from your lips.  He hasn’t the heart to tell you that such an act just contaminates the injection site all over again.  Perhaps it’s that you are contaminating him that makes this misstep fail to ring any alarms in his head. With the bite of the needle piercing his flesh comes the knowledge that there is some part of you now inside of him.  It courses through his veins in tandem with the stabilizing agent.  It will pass through his heart.  

You will pass through his heart. 

The thought hits him so rapidly that you’ve barely drawn the needle from his skin before he’s–

“Mmph!”

He swallows your startled sound in a kiss far more forceful than he means.  He can’t help it.  Can’t help the resurgence of that gnawing feeling, that desperate need to consume all that you are.  Every noise, every breath of yours is his to take.  Your tongue holds no chance of fending him off once he’s breached your lips, but he’ll surrender a sliver of control to ensure you stay right here, a pliant, sweet lamb in the maw of an especially greedy wolf.  

But you don’t seem to ask for such a relinquishment.  There’s no apprehension on your part as he plants a firm hand to your chest and guides you back, following inch by inch until he’s bent over you like a beast ready to feast upon a carcass.  Wesker’s deaf to the groan that leaves him, but he’s not at all oblivious to the way your mouth quirks into a smirk against his.

Is it hubris?  Or are you a lover enjoying the reactions of his body?  Perhaps you’re a sadist reveling in the thought that his control has waned so far.  

Your wrists are like porcelain in his grip.  He could break you and not even know he’d done it until you cry out for mercy.  But there is no need for such extremes.  Not when you hook a leg around his hip and pull him flush to your pelvis.

He parts from you to gasp.  

How dare you?  How dare you take the weakening threads of his self control and tease a razor's edge at their fraying strands?  Don’t you know what you’re doing?

His hips roll seemingly of their own accord.

You do, don’t you?  You know that leading him into this tears down every wall and puts him right in the palm of your hand.  You must know. 

Your lips dance like butterflies up the curve of his cheek, sporadically graceful in every delicate brush to his skin.  He realizes how tight he’s holding your wrists.  His nails are biting into your flesh not unlike they’d done back then.  For a brief second, he locks eyes with you.

You say the words, but his ears are ringing.  He heard it, but he can’t process it.  And, just like that, he can’t hide it anymore.  Just like the burns.  Like the memory of atrocities long buried in the skeletons of schools and punishments hidden away by healed flesh.  You pull the truth from him with such ease.  Three little words…

He doesn't mean to let it happen, only to hide and bury his secrets against your warmth. His teeth find you all the same. Finally, he bites. Finally, a mark that makes you squirm. A mark that makes you his.  The mewl that leaves you compliments so perfectly the coppery tang of your ichor.

“When you think of love, do you think of pain?”  

He should’ve never told you of his youth.

“What do you mean?”  He asked, eyes fixed on the file before him.  What a strange question…

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “But do you?”

He has no answer to give.  No point of reference, no foundation upon which to envision what love could be.  Perhaps he should think of his mentors or of the dormitory mothers employed for the care of the students.  Neither summons such a feeling.  When he was still a hopeful boy, he often imagined what it would be like to have parents – siblings, too, maybe.  In such fantasies, he found something warm growing in his chest.  Like a light nestled deep within.  It always ended the same, though.  He’d cease his thoughts and the light would dim, snuffed out and smothered by a rotten, hollow feeling.  By something painful.

Was that love?

Try as he might, he cannot cease the quiver of his jaw.  

When did your hands escape his grasp?  Why do your fingers rake so gently through his hair?  He holds you between his teeth, yet you cradle him.  

“I love you,” you say once more.  The words fall off your lips with such ease. A natural admission. 

The breath in his lungs has gone stale.  His eyes sting.  

He believes you.  

But why does the lamb love its wolf?

He believes you.

Could it be that the lamb loves the wolf’s fragility, just as the wolf loves the frail one’s force?  Could it be so simple?

He came to bed early that night.  Something in him screamed to do so.  Perhaps it was the lack of focus on his work.  A mind clouded by your question.

The warmth spills from between his clenched eyes.  He had no chance of hiding it.

He came to bed early that night.  He was greeted by welcoming arms and a smile brighter than the sun could ever hope to be.

Your lips press to his shoulder.  He swears he’s trying to hide every pathetic noise.  He doesn’t know why they escape anyway.

“Shh…”

He came to bed early that night because he thought of love.

“I’ve got you.”

Because he thought of you. 

*special thanks to @nshtn for pre-reading :)

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | 04:01 ⏤ALWAYS SAFE

SUM. : you bring james his lunch that you cooked yourself and almost get injured

G. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; ice hockey player james ; girlfriend reader ; very angry james ; protective james ; team training ; drill accidents ; reader being caring and sweet ; reader is wifey material ; james is husband material

LENGTH : 0.8k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

“James!” you shout across the rink, standing by one of your boyfriend’s coaches, Richard, who’s become like an uncle to you. The hockey captain doesn’t stop, however, unable to hear past the whistling wind by his ears atop his thick and sturdy headgear.

“Gonna have to shout louder than that, little lady ,” the older man chuckles, adjusting the cap on his head of silvering hair. 

You ponder to yourself for a moment before smirking, which makes Richard arch a curious brow at you, “Darling!” The instant you call across the ice rink, you see James’ head whip towards you before he grins widely behind the front guard of his head gear. Behind him, the rest of his team come to a skidding halt and also look over to your waving and cheering figure. You’ve become quite familiar with all of his teammates and they love to tease their captain for being so head over heels for you so the team begin snickering to themselves, some even cheekily whistling and nudging at James who pays them no mind, his sole focus fixed onto you.

“Baby!” he cheers, delight and excitement evident in his voice before he speeds his way over to you. Richard whistles for the rest of the team to run short drills while the ‘lovely couple’ have their lunch. 

“I’m sorry for being late,” you gnaw at your bottom lip regretfully, a guilty look taking over your expression as James hurriedly takes off his headgear and gloves, revealing his sweat-soaked locks matted down and clinging onto his forehead, “Richard told me you didn’t eat anything-” because you wanted to wait for me…

“Don’t worry about it,” James says gently, his smile just as bright but much softer as he takes in your sweet expression. There’s so much love in his gaze, you feel your own heart bursting at the seams to attempt at reciprocating his adoration. James brings a finger under your chin and lifts your gaze to meet his kind stare; even though he appears sweaty, dishevelled and rugged from training, he’s just as handsome as ever, “you sounded really excited over the phone about cooking my lunch for me,” a heat crawls up your neck and explodes across your cheeks as James grins, his eyes staring lovingly at you, “and I was just as excited to eat what you so graciously cooked instead of the canteen food here,” James giggles to himself, dopey and carefree, “you cooked it just for me~ I’m so lucky~” 

You returned his wide grin and felt yourself losing your will to hide his surprise. He didn’t know it but you were only late because you went and bought his favourite treacle tart from his favourite bakery across town.  

“Actually~” you begin to reach down so that you can present the bakery take out box when you suddenly see James pull back, his spine fully erect as his eyes and ears become fully alert. The words were on your tongue, ready to question his odd behaviour when he suddenly shoots his arm up to the side; just as you were beginning to register a faint whistle in your ear, it was followed by a resounding WHHHIIIIP!

In James’s stretched out hand was a hockey puck. And it was on a one way course of high velocity towards you. Seeing this, anger flares up like the fuse of an explosive ready to violently detonate in James’s eyes.

“SHE’S! MY! FUCKING! GIRLFRIEND! WATCH IT! YOU FAT FUCK!” James’s booming voice cuts through the air and silences all activity on the rink, not only that but he was easily able to narrow down the perpetrator of the hazardous stray puck, “...WELL?!! SAY SOMETHING YOU DICK!” you look past James’s figure and lock eyes with guilty brown pools, likely the offender of your potential accident.

“S-sorry,” you hear his teammate stutter, which you accept with a small nod and place a gentle hand on James’s arm, attempting to calm him down and bring his attention back to you. As he slowly turns to you again, James slams the puck to the ground and kicks it away with his ice skate. 

“Are you okay, angel?” James asks, his voice soft and kind, a complete contrast to the booming, angry shout he just projected. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” your warm voice visibly soothes the hockey team captain and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh of relief, “...accidents happen James, please don’t lash out on the poor g-”

“Accident or not, hurting you— almost hurting you is deserving of a beat down from hell,”

Looking into his hostile but worried hazel eyes, you silently express your objection alongside some appreciation too. You’re thankful for his worry, his aggression over your safety even makes your heart flutter but he’s better than any violence. It takes a moment but James finally sighs and nods, a silent promise to watch himself and stay civil. 

Smiling softly, you lean up to kiss his lips, “thank you for saving me,” his lips smile against yours. 

“You’re always safe with me, princess,”

NAVI.

A/N : im a bit rusty on writing since i haven’t been able to write for a while from stressful home stuff but here’s me trying to get back into it with another ice hockey james au (inspired by another tiktok). hopefully, this will get me in the headspace to write good requests from my milestone event.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @chullu-bhar-paani @ghostgardn @rosalyn-s @seungtelevision

[cemeteryspider]

Hi! Ok I’m here with my request I was wondering if I can request Rex dating a fem!reader who’s like raven from dc? Like powers and all that and Rex is just so in love with her 😔(May it please be like dating hc’s? Please and thank you🫶🫶🫶)

Rex-Splode Dating Headcanons

Rex-Splode! Rex Sloan x Raven! Reader

Trigger Warnings: Nightmares

Word Count: 925

You met Rex during Guardians of the Globe tryouts. You had also seen him get his ass beat by Monster Girl. Luckily, after this incident, he was less of a douche overall.

However, things changed once the Guardians started to become a team. He would try his best to be around you whenever he could. You would be running on the treadmill, and then all of a sudden he was running next to you. You could be making a sandwich, and he would be making his right next to you. Or you would sit and read your book, and he would scroll on his phone near you, occasionally glancing up at you when he thought you didn't notice. You did.

Then one day when you were pummeling a punching bag, he asked if you would like to get coffee sometime. You knew he had feelings for you, and you felt in your bones you should say yes.

A date to an art gallery and one dinner later, you and Rex made it official and told the team, who seemed shocked. Either you were exceptionally good at hiding your relationship, or they just couldn't believe you would date Rex.

~~~

You love your personal space, Rex also loves your personal space. The two of you could be walking down the street, it would have to be hand-in-hand, or maybe his hand would be in your back pocket. This annoyed you to no end at first but quickly you understood the constant wanting to be close to you was because he wanted to protect you. You would never admit it, but you loved him.

His favorite time to be in your personal space is during a fight. He would bottle the feeling of you guys standing back to back using your powers to protect each other. When you crushed invading aliens who wanted to kill him, he never felt safer. You made him feel safe.

Simply, he loves to make you laugh and smile. Even though you keep a straight face and hard demeanor around other people, you are a totally different person than when you were with Rex. Somehow his silly sarcastic personality leaked through into yours, and he could make you giggle without even trying.

He loves to see you train with the other Guardians, especially Invincible. Being from a demonic bloodline, you could go toe-to-toe with the Viltrumite, without too much damage, and more often than not you would best the newer hero. After all, you could practically tear Mark apart with the darkness you controlled if you wanted to.

Of course, he hated when he had to fight you. Not because he was scared he would hurt you, no, he was scared you would hurt him. Even going easy on him, you would beat Rex easily. Teleporting away from any explosives he threw your way, and wrapping smokey black tendrils of darkness around him or, as gently as possible, throwing him into a wall with your telekinesis.

You would always apologize profusely after taking him down, but he would always reassure you that he loved you and your powers. Maybe you would even explore using your powers in more intimate places in the future.

~~~

However, once in a battle with Machine Head and his goons, you start to be overwhelmed with the other's pain. When Rex saw you fall to your knees all he could see was red. You held your head in your hands and started to feel yourself lose control.

Your eyes glazed over black, and you screamed. At this point, Rex had just taken out Machine Head and started running over to you as objects all around you started to float and shake. Kneeling next to you, he took your hands in his.

"Hey, babe, come back to me, everything is going to be okay. You just need to come back," Everyone who wasn't passed out on the ground looked at the tense scene in front of them.

They all knew what could happen if you truly lost control of yourself. You had once leveled a skyscraper only to rebuild it moments later.

Still, some part of you listened to Rex and allowed yourself to come back to wherever in your mind you retreated to. You allowed yourself a vulnerable moment, letting yourself slump into Rex's arms. He held you tight until the medics arrived, and still held your hand when you were carried away on a stretcher, even though you promised you could walk.

~~~

Rex could never let anything bad happen to his girl. You were his everything and the only person he would let his sarcastic walls down for. You appreciated the black roses, and eventually black dahlias he would get you after telling him it was your favorite flower.

He would bandage your wounds after a battle, once you took care of him because you always insisted on patching him up first. Kiss your bruises whenever he sees them. He would put his arms around you when he saw your eyes unfocus and zone out, and bring you back to reality.

He would tell you he loved you at every chance he got and showed you off every time he got the chance.

"Look at this picture of my girlfriend, she's so hot"

"Did you see her fight? She's just so amazing"

"Ah she just makes me feel, so differently than I ever have before"

He practically drooled every time you walked by him. He loves the way you look. Anything you wear he wants to rip off of you and start to kiss every part of you. It could be your skin-tight leotard and cape, your casual sweater and jeans look, or your silly Rex-Splode pajamas he got you as a joke.

(The pajamas do something to him idk)

~~~

Rex has always helped you with the nightmares that plague you when you sleep. When Rex lost his hand in the fight against the Lizard League, you still regret not being there, you helped him through his nightmares. Soothing his mind and, with his permission, lulled him back to sleep with your powers. He knew that subconsciously you were calming him down to the best of your ability, and he knew why he always slept better when you were around. 

You treated Rex like more than he ever saw himself as, and he didn’t treat you like the monster you felt you were. You each healed something inside the other, and if that’s not love then you don’t know what is.

[zuzu-tries-to-write]

Title: Ignite

Bakugo katsuki X Reader

Summary:

You and Bakugo have always been rivals—constantly clashing, always trying to outdo each other. But when you’re forced to train together, the tension between you shifts from frustration to something dangerously electric. A mission gone wrong brings you closer than ever, and when Bakugo finally snaps, pulling you into a heated kiss, you realize the line between hate and desire was never really there at all.

(I tried writing chapters this time)

Chapter 1: Collision Course

“Tell me this is some kind of sick joke.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at Bakugo Katsuki as Aizawa-sensei announced the new sparring partners for the semester.

“No joke,” Aizawa deadpanned, rubbing his temples like he was already regretting the decision. “You and Bakugo need to learn how to work together. Otherwise, one of you is going to get killed in real combat.”

“Tch. Not my fault they can’t keep up,” Bakugo sneered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Excuse me?” you snapped. “Who was it that had to save your ass last time?”

His eye twitched. “Like hell you did!”

Aizawa sighed, already walking away. “Figure it out.”

You and Bakugo stood there, locked in a silent war of glares as the rest of the class went about their business. Kirishima shot you both a very concerned look before muttering something about an explosive disaster waiting to happen.

He wasn’t wrong.

Chapter 2: Sparks and Fists

“Stay outta my way!” Bakugo barked, launching forward.

You were mid-spar in the U.A. training grounds, forced to work as a team against a wave of combat drones. And, as expected, he was being an insufferable brute.

You dodged a blast that was way too close for comfort. “If you’d stop trying to blow everything up, maybe I could actually help!”

“I don’t need your damn help!”

Another explosion sent debris flying, and you barely had time to react before a drone lunged at you. You twisted, taking it down with a well-placed kick—but just as you landed, Bakugo’s arm shot out in front of you.

A blast ignited right by your face.

You flinched, shoving him back. “What the hell, Bakugo?!”

He bared his teeth, gripping your wrist. “Then move faster, dumbass!”

You yanked away from him, your heart pounding for reasons you refused to acknowledge. “You almost fried my face off!”

“Tch. Coulda been worse.”

Your fingers curled into fists. “Oh, that’s it—”

Before you could launch at him, Aizawa’s voice crackled through the comms. “If you two don’t start working together, I’m doubling your training sessions.”

You and Bakugo froze.

Then, you both let out a synchronized groan of frustration.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But if you get me killed, I’m haunting your ass.”

Bakugo snorted. “Like hell you could.”

Chapter 3: Breaking Point

It happened during an unexpected villain ambush.

You and Bakugo had been patrolling the city as part of a third-year internship when the attack broke out. The two of you fought fiercely, your movements in sync despite the constant arguing that usually defined your relationship.

But then you took a hit.

The villain’s quirk sent you crashing into a wall, pain flaring through your ribs. Before you could react, another blow was coming—except it never landed.

Bakugo was there.

A deafening explosion rocked the street, and the next thing you knew, he was crouched over you, his arm braced protectively in front of your chest.

His breath was ragged. His hand was gripping your wrist so tightly it almost hurt.

“Are you stupid?” he snarled, eyes blazing with something wild. “You should’ve dodged that!”

You swallowed, your heart slamming against your ribs. “I tried—”

“Not hard enough!”

His grip tightened. You realized, belatedly, that his hands were shaking.

And then, before you could stop yourself, you reached up and brushed a thumb over his knuckles. “I’m fine, Bakugo.”

His gaze snapped to yours, and for the first time, you saw something raw beneath the anger.

He clicked his tongue and yanked his hand away. “Tch. Don’t scare me like that, dumbass.”

Your stomach flipped.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Chapter 4: Fire and Gasoline

The tension between you and Bakugo had been unbearable since that night.

Every glance lasted too long. Every argument left you breathless. Every sparring session felt like it was leading to something neither of you wanted to admit.

Then, one evening, it snapped.

It started as a usual argument in the dorm hallway.

“You are so infuriating—”

“Then stop starin’ at me all the damn time, idiot!”

“Maybe if you weren’t such an ass, I wouldn’t—”

And then he was in front of you, caging you against the wall, his breath hot against your skin.

“Say it,” he growled.

Your pulse thundered. “Say what?”

His hand slammed against the wall beside your head. “That you want me.”

Your breath caught.

The heat in his gaze was suffocating. The tension between you crackled like an impending explosion.

You swallowed, refusing to back down. “You first.”

Bakugo let out a sharp exhale—then, in one rough motion, his lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was feral, all heat and desperation. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him as if he was afraid you’d disappear. You let out a quiet gasp, and he swallowed it, deepening the kiss until you were both breathless.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he growled against your lips. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you gasped again.

He grinned. “Tch. Thought so.”

You tugged him back down into another kiss.

If this was what fighting with him always led to, maybe it wasn’t so bad.