#how’re they gonna manage that?

[adrift-in-thyme]

So…how we feeling about that news

[writeyouin]

Oo I got something for TFO

If possible would you be open to doing a human s/o with D-16? Like the human came from another planet that was destroyed and they got stranded on Cybertron and somehow managed to end up in Iacon city?

D-16 (Megatron) x Reader – The Creature From Another World - Part 1 of 2

A/N – This is so much longer than I thought it would be. I think it may be the most fun, silly fic I’ve ever written and I am so happy that I got to write it. Also, SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE TRANSFORMERS ONE MOVIE IN THE FINAL SEGMENT!

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

It was all Orion’s fault. Everything that was likely to get D-16 in trouble was his fault. It was always, ‘Hey, what if we searched the tunnels for something even more valuable than energon?’ Or ‘You want to come into the archives with me? Of course, I have a permit. It’s not like I would try breaking in… again.’

This time, the line that was sure to get D-16 into trouble was, “Hey bud, don’t tell anyone but I got us a pet!”

D-16 rubbed his helm exasperatedly, “A pet, Pax! Why can’t you just obey the rules for once.”

“Hey, there are no rules against keeping pets,” Orion said excitedly, heading over to his locker to retrieve the creature in question.

“Of course there aren’t! Because no one would be stupid enough to keep one!”

“You just haven’t seen it yet. It’s really cute.”

“I hope your spark eater tears off your face, Pax. I really do,” D-16 deadpanned.

“Not a spark eater,” Orion chuckled, then he began whispering into his locker, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt ya, little cutie. That’s it, settle down now.”

D-16 shook his head, “You’re gonna get demoted all the way down to the 40th sub-level and when you do, I’m not gonna save your sorry aft. Besides Pax, there isn’t enough energon to go around as is. How’re you gonna feed a pet?”

“That’s the thing,” Orion said eagerly. “It doesn’t fuel up on energon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What kind of thing doesn’t need energon?” D-16 asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him as he tried to peek over Orion’s shoulder at the so-called ‘pet’ he was trying to grab.

He heard some scrabbling, Orion said some more soothing words and then Orion turned around, holding a creature half his size around the waist in both servos.

“D-16, meet our new pet, Minitronus.”

“Minitronus!” D-16 said excitedly. He knew Orion had only picked the name to foster his attachment and ensure that he kept the creature a secret.

D-16 got close to Orion’s pet, resting his hands on his thighs as he bent down. “Whoa, what is it?”

“C’mon D-16. If you don’t know, I’m not gonna tell you.”

“You have no idea, do you.”

“Not a one.”

The creature chittered angrily, pushing at Orion’s servos.

“It looks angry,” D-16 observed.

“It’s just getting used to us. That’s all.”

Orion began stroking at the creature’s head.

“Okay Pax,” D-16 said, resigning himself to Orion’s crazy new pet, as he knew he would from the start. “C’mon then. Tell me all about it. What does it eat? Where’d you find it? And most importantly, how’re we going to keep it a secret?”

“Hey! I said HEY! YOU UP THERE! STOP PETTING ME! I’M NOT AN ANIMAL, YOU BIG DUMB IDIOT!”

The giant metal man smiled at you affectionately, opening his mouth to say something you couldn’t understand. It all sounded like scraping metal and electrical noises and you couldn’t make sense of any of it.

Ever since the Quintessons had abducted you, your life had been nothing but trouble. You were their prisoner but when they found out your planet had nothing of worth, they decided it would be better to experiment on you. The only consolation was that you could at least understand the Quintessons, who had multiple translator devices on their ship.

You were very fortunate that the Quintessons didn’t view you as a threat since they didn’t bother keeping you in any kind of high-security prison and so you managed to escape before they did anything too terrible. The worst you suffered were a few zaps from a weak cattle prod, probably testing your nervous system.

Yet, having escaped the Quintesson ship, you had landed yourself into deeper trouble. You had found yourself on a living metal planet, and though a few plants grew on the ever-transforming surface, the pocket computer you had stolen from your captors informed you they were poisonous.

Fortunately, you had thought a few things through regarding your escape. You had managed to grab a backpack, stuffing it full of provisions and interesting gadgets. The food was stored in dehydrated cubes so with proper care, it could last you months, maybe even an entire year. The backpack also contained a device to keep you warm, a cube that turned into a forcefield when thrown to the ground, and most importantly one of the translators that had allowed you to understand the Quintessons along with a few other gadgets.

However, despite your planning, things hadn’t gone very well for you. After touching down on the planet, you boarded a train that you hoped would take you to civilisation, and while it did take you to a city underground that was more beautiful and advanced than you could imagine, it was clear that the alien life-forms there had never seen an organic creature before.

The few you tried to talk to initially screamed as if you were vermin and tried to blast, stab, and crush you in succession. As you scrambled for your life, you took a kick to the back, saved by your pack which had broken your much-needed translator.

You ran and hid, keeping out of sight and soon you started feeling like the vermin the metal people viewed you as. You learned quickly to keep out of sight and made your way to where there were fewer bots, spending many quiet hours either sleeping in vents or trying to repair your translator with the limited knowledge you had.

Yet, your luck couldn’t last forever and eventually, you ran into a vent that turned out to be a transportation tunnel to and from the mines. It was there that Mr Big-Red-Idiot-Bot caught you and took you to the charging bays. At first, you thought your luck was turning around and that he was going to take you to someone who would be able to understand you since he was obviously trying to be gentle with you. Then it became clear that he just thought you were some kind of stupid animal in need of care and he adopted you as his pet.

“What are these things?” D-16 asked, gently lifting your top.

You slapped at his servo, swearing at him even though he couldn’t understand you. Orion laughed, “I don’t know, but that’s how it reacted to me too. I think they’re to keep it warm. Either way, it doesn’t like it when you touch them. Oh, and hey, check this out, it does tricks.”

Orion shoved you back into his locker where your bag was. You ran to your pack, hurriedly grabbing your broken translator and showing it to the new grey bot. You had tried repeatedly showing it to Big Red, but he didn’t get what you were trying to do and always just laughed at you.

“What’s it holding?” D-16 asked.

“Playing with some scrap metal. Isn’t that cute? It has a favourite toy! I think Minitronus might have belonged to someone else once because it has all these adorable toys in there and it can make its own fuel.”

You sighed. Clearly, the grey bot was no better than Big Red, but at least he wasn’t trying to kill you. You shook your head and began searching your pack for some tools to repair the translator. Upon seeing you grab a screwdriver, Orion took it from you.

You yelled a few more insults, demanding it back but Orion just teased you, holding it just out of reach.

“Aww does Minitronus want the toy? Do you? Do you? That’s it, reach for the toy. Grab it.” He cooed.

D-16 rolled his eyes, amused by both Orion and his new pet. He snatched the miniature ‘toy’ screwdriver from his friend, handing it back to you. “Don’t tease it, Orion.”

You nodded gratefully at D-16 and he ruffled your hair. This time, you didn’t bother insulting him since he had given you what you wanted.

The work alarm went off overhead and Orion slammed his locker shut just in time for the influx of workers to come through the shared stasis bunker on their way to work. D-16 tried to fight against the crowd to stay by the locker but Orion pulled him into the fray, muttering that it would look suspicious if he wasn’t at work on time.

“But what about- Will it be okay in there?” D-16 whispered as they headed into the lift.

“Sure,” Orion said from the corner of his mouth, trying to be quiet. “It’s been in there for days and it's been fine.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. Now be quiet and act normal.”

D-16 smiled and gave a small awkward wave to a bot in front of him who was observing the pair with a raised optical ridge. Over the years, Orion had caused more than his share of trouble so D-16 was used to the scrutinising looks from others, though he always got nervous when they both had something to hide.

You sighed and rested your hands on your hips. It was awful being constantly stuffed in a locker, especially since Big Red didn’t seem to think things through. He shoved you in your new ‘home’ whenever other bots were around or when he went to the lift which you assumed meant he was working. The problem with that was that his species didn’t tire easily and could work a very long time, and with this being what you could only assume was the poorer part of the city, there were always other bots around. You had to get your translator fixed quickly, or else you would spend the rest of your life in the locker. Still, things weren’t all bad. It was warm and safe. You often used your backpack as a pillow, sleeping through the first few hours before getting back to your repair work. You had privacy and a personal collapsable service suite that pulled moisture from the air so you could drink or shower - it even took care of your waste by vaporising it; alien inventions sure were convenient. Besides, now the other bot knew about you too, and perhaps he could help you. Resignedly, you set about keeping to your normal routine and began some light repair work, too awake to rest now. You only wished you knew what you were doing and that you had even the faintest idea on how to fix alien technology; your life depended on it.

Orion and D-16 were the first up and out of the elevator, avoiding the usual crowds by skipping the last few minutes of work with a lame excuse about being called upstairs. Honestly, the pair got into so much trouble they were often called up to meetings with higher-ups for tellings-off, which Orion usually tried to talk his way out of, and so nobody so much as batted an optic when they left.

Upon getting up to their quarters, Orion and D-16 were both relieved to see that the rotation team had already filed out, presumably having taken one of the other lifts to a different mine. Orion ran to his locker and hurled it open.

“Aww, look,” He pulled D-16 close to get a good look at you. “Minitronus is recharging. Hey, do you think it’s dreaming of us? Pets do that, right? Dream of their owners?”

“I mean, if Minitronus is thinking of me, that’s a dream. If it’s you, it’s a nightmare.”

Orion elbowed D-16 in the chassis then reached in to grab you.

D-16 pulled him back, “Whoa hey, don’t wake it.”

“We have to. It’s time for walkies and this is the only time we can get out of here quietly before the others catch up.”

Reluctantly, D-16 let Orion go.

You jolted awake, terrified until you remembered where you were and that you were now the ‘pet’ of an advanced alien. You settled groggily in his arms, wondering what he was going to do with you now.

He proffered you some words that sounded like two lawnmowers smashing together, but by his expression, you could tell he was happy. Then he jostled you, miming something you couldn’t understand until it was too late.

You scowled at Big Red with your arms folded, too insulted to even try yelling as he tugged you along an empty alley on your new wire lead.

This was a new low.

“I don’t think Minitronus likes walkies,” D-16 commented as you dug your heels into the floor, trying to hold your ground.

“Nonsense,” Orion said, trying to be gentle as he pulled at your lead, making you stumble forward, “It’s just not used to it yet.”

D-16 patted his thighs, “C’mon Minitronus. That’s it. Here Minitronus. Minitronus.”

After a few more attempts, you realised that the gentle electrical hum Grey kept repeating must be his name for you. Huh… Well, at least the repetition meant they had a stable language.

You listened again and tried to mimic the sound, making both bots pause to look at you.

“Did it just…?” D-16 asked, pointing at you.

You mimicked the sound again.

“It did,” Orion agreed. He ran over to pick you up, spinning you in his arms, “Who’s a smart Minitronus, huh? Yes, you. You are!”

Although your mimicry had been good, it wasn’t quite enough to convince them that you were sentient. Rather, they were looking at you like a parrot who had picked up a new phrase. Instead of repeating your name, you had managed a babyish mumbling somewhere close, that sounded more like Mini–Tron.”

D-16 beamed and petted your head, quickly coming to love his new pet. Orion was right, it was smart and cute.

“That’s so cool, I wonder if we can teach it more words.”

“I’m definitely teaching it swears,” Orion laughed.

Eventually, the pair headed back to the underground, with Orion heading in first, making sure everyone was recharging, before signalling for D-16 to follow with you.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t put me back in the locker,” You whined as you were placed on the top shelf.

“Oh no, don’t cry,” D-16 begged, listening to you pitchy chittering. He held a digit to his lips, shushing.

“You two will be gone for ages, what between sleeping and working, and it’s dark in there,” You continued, even though he couldn’t understand you.

You only stopped talking when he held you against his chassis, petting your head. You sighed in understanding. He was trying to keep you safe; this was all for your own good.

‘Okay,’ You thought, feeling strangely comforted by Grey’s actions. ‘If this is how it has to be for now… Okay.’

Orion gave an enthusiastic thumbs up to D-16, glad that he had managed to keep your mewls under control.

“Goodnight, Minitronus,” Orion whispered before shutting the door.

“We love you,” D-16 added.

You shook your head after the door shut; life was going to be interesting with those two.

“PAX!” Elita-One shouted, jetpacking up the empty elevator shaft to catch up with Orion and D-16 who had stolen away from work early for the third time that week.

Orion held you behind his back, hiding you just in time before Elita got in his face.

“Captain, what a surprise!” Orion grinned cheekily, already trying to smooth-talk his way out of the situation. “Me and D-16 were just saying what a great and wonderful leader you-”

“Can it, Pax!” Elita glowered. “I’ve had just about enough of you. It’s bad enough that you’re a troublemaker but now, you’re dragging D-16 down with you and- what’s behind your back?”

“My back? Nothing at all,” Orion shoved you into D-16’s open arms, and he in turn hid you behind his leg, trusting that you wouldn’t run away if he wasn’t holding you.

Elita grabbed hold of Orion, slamming him into the lockers, her eyes narrowing when she didn’t see anything worth hiding. She glared at D-16 who held up his servos in a shrug, gesturing to Pax who was already babbling about how strong she was and how no other Captain had had the strength to throw him so hard.

While Pax created a distraction and Elita-One continued her tirade against him, D-16 shuffled backwards, sneaking you out for your daily walk.

You had grown used to the routine now, learning the building’s alarms that marked the beginning or end of a shift. When it was coming time for Orion or D-16 to take you out, you always hitched on your backpack, just in case you needed anything, though you had long since learned not to work on your translator in front of Big Red, since he kept assuming it was a toy and continually threw it for you to fetch. Honestly, he was doing even more damage to the already broken machine, and it stressed you out constantly whenever you were forced to catch it before it hit the ground.

When you and Grey were alone, you always did repair work at the end of a walk, since he would take you somewhere quiet to rest for a while.

You had been living with the pair for just over two months now and in that time a few things of note had happened.

First, they had entrusted knowledge of you to a few of the others in their ‘platoon’ or whatever the group they worked in was called. This had happened after an incident wherein you had escaped your locker to explore and a silver and blue bot with a passion for dance stumbled into you and squealed. Big Red, and Grey hurried to your rescue and had to explain their ‘pet’ to him.

This led to you being the worst kept secret in the mining facility, though it was bound to happen eventually with so many bots living in close quarters. However, all the mining bots found you sweet enough and they all had a code of honour that meant they kept you secret from anyone with authority like Elita-One or any of the other captains.

Yet, while everyone knew about you and you were generally allowed out of the locker most of the time, it was still only Orion or D-16 who took you out, and they still tried to get out of work a tad early to check on you.

One of the other changes in your life was the delivery of a big bundle of wires as ‘toys.’ That was another word you had learned to mimic since Orion kept bringing you play-things and repeating the Cybertronian equivalent.

This happened after you kept picking up pieces of scrap wire on walks, taking them with you so you could use them in your repair work. At first, Orion and D-16 took them off you, afraid you would hurt yourself somehow, but when you kept collecting them and fought hard to keep the few you had, they assumed it must be a normal nesting behaviour and brought you a great deal more than you needed.

You were delighted with the gifts and hugged both bots for it. Then, after saving the few you needed for your translator, you weaved the extra wires into a new over-shirt. It was uncomfortable, but quite practical since your jumper was wearing away and you needed a new one to keep decent when you were washing your actual shirt.

Another problem to occur was your hair. In your time with the bots, it had grown very long, and much to your bemusement, Orion had tried cutting it. The whole thing had gone disastrously, and you suddenly understood those dogs that got terrible haircuts because they tried to escape their groomers; you could only be thankful that the bald patch was beginning to grow back.

The final change was Grey’s idea. He felt confident that you were well trained since you now responded to your name, paying attention when you were called through the miners’ hab-suite. Because of your actions, he often let you off-lead, which you were immensely grateful for. He rarely put the lead back on you unless he thought something was unsafe, so whenever it went on now, you clambered onto his shoulder, trusting that he would take you home and away from danger quickly.

It wasn’t a perfect life, but things were slowly improving. You could only hope that your lucky streak didn’t break and that you would be able to communicate your needs fully before the year was up.

D-16 sighed, sitting on the side of a tall building overlooking the city with you in his lap. You were content to let him pet you while you toyed with your translator. You went in an almost trance-like state whenever you tinkered with it now, honestly not expecting anything to come of it but needing to work all the same.

He continued speaking in his gentle, rhythmic noises and you hummed as if you understood, pressing a wire down with the flat of your screwdriver.

“- and that’s why I know what we’re doing is important. Even Sentinel says so. Us miners, we’re keeping Cybertron alive,” D-16 said proudly.

“Who’s Sentinel?” You asked absentmindedly.

D-16 screamed, accidentally throwing you off his lap.

“Hey, be careful!” You scolded. “You could have dropped me over the edge.”

You picked up your translator and brushed yourself off.

“Minitronus, you’re talking!” D-16 accused.

“Yeah, well so…are… Oh my God, I did it!” You breathed. Then you punched the air excitedly, “I DID IT!”

“WHAT IS GOING ON? HOW ARE YOU TALKING?!”

“I fixed my translator,” You squealed ecstatically, waving it in front of D-16.

“Your- Your toy?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, practically bouncing on the spot.

“This is impossible. You- You’re our pet!”

“No. Not a pet. Not anymore. I’m (Y/N). Okay, (Y/N),” You repeated your name slowly, trying to get it through to Grey who still looked panicked.

“Primus, this is insane.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“You’ve got to explain everything to me, right now.”

“Okay, sit down,” You patted the ledge.

D-16 did so, and you jumped back into his lap.

“What’re you doing? You can’t sit there now. You’re not an animal.”

“Hey,” You pushed against his servo, staying stubbornly in place, “I’m not going back on that ledge, I could fall.” “Fine,” D-16 relented. He went to pet your head again then stopped himself, keeping his servos stiffly by his sides. “As long as you explain yourself, you can sit wherever you want.”

Having told D-16 everything and had him explain a few things in return, things thankfully changed. Initially, things between you and all of the mining bots were awkward, with haunted comments from some of the bots like, ‘It saw me in the wash racks,’ or ‘I can’t believe I tried to rub its belly… No wonder it slapped me. Oh. Oh no.’

Once everyone got used to the idea, your life improved. You were still kept secret since none of the miners knew how the higher-ups would react to an alien species, but with some ingenuity and a few favours exchanged for information about your species and planet, they all came together to transform your locker into a proper living space, complete with all the amenities they could manage to scrape together. They even began forming a plan to try and have you off-planet and en-route somewhere you could survive before your supplies would run out.

After D-16 and Orion were over the weirdness, you still had them take you on your daily excursions, sans the lead since you were no longer their pet. Orion managed to laugh about the whole thing, but D-16 grew to be even more strained around you. However, you didn’t get to ask him about it till you were next alone with him, which was a long time afterwards.

“So… Do you hate me now?” You asked him one day while he walked a few paces ahead of you, keeping an eye out for anyone who he would need to hide you from.

“What?” D-16 sputtered. “I- I don’t-”

“It’s okay,” You smiled easily. “It’s a strange situation.”

D-16 felt his insides squeeze. He had held onto you while you slept. At the time, he thought you were cute. Now though… You were still cute when you slept, but it was a different kind of cute – Softer, somehow.

“I told you everything,” He sighed, defeatedly. “My life, my dreams, my fears.” He shook his head, continuing mournfully, “And you didn’t understand any of it.”

“Not true,” You contradicted, running to stand in front of him.

He watched you warily.

“I might not have known what you were saying, but I did understand you. Your tone, expressions, the sound of your voice. I understood more than you think.”

D-16’s spark pulsed.

“Let’s go home,” He said quickly, turning on his heel and walking away from you.

The two of you had to go where you wouldn’t be alone or things would change again.

D-16 was falling in love with you and he couldn’t let that happen. There were too many unknowns and he had his planet to think about. He was a miner – the life force of his planet. That’s what Sentinel Prime always said, and work came first.

Besides, you weren’t going to be on Cybertron forever. You couldn’t be. Once your supplies ran out, that would be it for you.

D-16 couldn’t get attached. It wasn’t like you were a pet anymore. You didn’t belong to him, even if he wanted you to.

You ran through the destruction of Iacon City, terrified by everything that was happening. Honestly, you had missed most of the events leading up to it, having been stuck in Sentinel’s tower, but you had seen the so-called Prime torture and brand D-16.

Afterwards, you tried to find him or Orion, but you were small and Iacon was big and the city was collapsing around you.

You screamed as you were grabbed seemingly from nowhere and looked up to see D-16, though he looked slightly different thanks to the new infusion of Megatronus’ T-Cog which you hadn’t seen him take from Sentinel’s corpse. Also, there was one other change – his angry red optics, which bore into you.

“D-16,” You shouted, “What’s going on? Where’s Orion?”

“Orion is dead,” He growled. Though he had made a promise that nobody else would be deceived, you needed to hear that lest you side with Orion over him. Besides, it wasn’t a lie. Orion was dead – Dead, and replaced by Optimus Prime. “And my name is Megatron.”

“Orion- Orion’s dead,” You repeated, too shell-shocked to even cry at the moment.

“Yes,” Megatron glossed over your emotions, far too focused on his rage as he transformed around you, keeping you safe inside his alt-mode. “And we’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?”

“To war!”

Yet, even as Megatron burned with hatred and his desire to bring down the corruption that fuelled his planet, he was already reading the intel sent by the disgraced High Guard, informing him of several nearby planets where you would be able to get the organic fuel you required to stay online.

Megatron had lost everything. He was not about to lose his beloved pet too. You were his, and you always would be.

A/N - Hey, I worked really hard on this so please comment, or at the very least reblog. Likes aren't enough anymore guys, they just aren't.

[kurooh]

☆ fluff, with mha spoilers about hawks’ fate (ch. 385&426)

“c’mon, stay still, keigo,” you remind him softly, adjusting the angle of his head with a hand at his chin. “i’m not gonna poke your eye out, don’t worry.”

“it looks really . . pointed,” keigo replies, eyeing the tip of the eyeliner pen cautiously. “and anyway, how’re your hands not shaking that bad?”

“practice,” you shrug, “but your talking is breaking up my concentration, y’know.”

“okay, okay,” he zips his lips and pretends to toss a key over his shoulder. you simply shake your head at keigo’s antics, bringing the tip of the pen to his eye again. this time, he manages to control his flinch enough to not mess up the wing you’re drawing.

keigo had been born with his birdlike quirk, fierce wings, which came along with many other avian characteristics. his astute, piercing golden eyes were a good example of what came along with his quirk. more interestingly, his eyes had always had dark markings around them—sharp lines and wings to further add to his birdlike appearance.

since losing his quirk to all for one on that vile day, in a battle that should’ve been won, keigo lost most of those odd little characteristics, the markings around his eyes being one of them. (of course, he never lost his penchant for fried chicken.) now, as the president of the hero public safety commission, he’s tasked with talking to all kinds of different heroes who certainly know who he used to be.

“you okay, kei? i’m gonna move onto the next eye, baby,” you whisper, so as not to startle him when he’s already gotten this relaxed. he nods, lost in thought.

not long after getting the job, keigo rushed to tell you the excellent news, and ask a simple request of you. he’d looked at you with his striking eyes, the skin around them empty and bare.

“so, y’know the marks i had around my eyes? the black birdie ones?” keigo seriously described it to you as if you’d never seen them a day in your life.

“of course, kei. why . . ?”

“so, i’ve gotta go into work and talk to people every day. i’m still hawks, the cool cool cool retired number two prohero, just without the wings and eye makeup.” his voice drifted off as he patted around behind him, momentarily expecting to be met with the softness of his downy vermillion feathers.

you nodded silently, heart squeezing sadly for him. he chuckled awkwardly and cleared his throat, “anyway, i’d like you to do the eyeliner for me each day. i know, i know, it’s kinda ridiculous, but it would really mean a lot to me.”

keigo looks back wistfully, turning the memory over in his head a few times while you color in the wing and prepare to add the detail to his inner corner, all from memory. as the tip of the pen strokes over the delicate skin, he loosens up more, letting you nudge his face left and right without that nervous stiffness from before.

he notices the way your brows knit in concentration, the tight grip you’ve got on the eyeliner pen, and the lightness in which you use it on him. it’s ridiculous how something so small can mean this much—warmth rises to his cheeks and colors them something rosy.

“and . . done!” you exclaim, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “kei, you’ll love this.”

“lemme see the mirror, dovey,” keigo chuckles happily, gesturing for you to step to the side. as he stares into his reflection in the vanity, he can see red feathers surrounding his shoulders and the space behind them. a squint of his eyes has them fading away, and he clears his throat shakily to focus on the makeup.

behind him, you rest your hands on his shoulders, rubbing them soothingly as though you know what he’s thinking. the black makeup around his eyes and in the inner corners looks natural, complimenting his face perfectly. you’d managed to pull something this accurate off, just from memory—keigo sniffles, rising to his feet from the chair. he envelops you in a strong hug, tucking his face into your neck carefully so as not to smear your work.

“you did such a great job, dovey,” keigo whispers into your skin, fingers squeezing you. “i can’t wait for you to do this for me every morning.”

“really?” you ask, swaying a little with him in your arms. “my makeup skills are that good?”

“of course they are!” he exclaims, “but seriously though, thank you. i felt naked without the eyeliner.”

your cheeks warm and you giggle; keigo’s heart flutters with adoration, no longer grounded. he doesn’t want to let you go just yet, but he steps back curiously, fiddling around with the eyeliner pen. you gasp accusingly—he’d swiped it from you without letting you notice.

he flashes you a silly smile, dangling the pen from his fingertips with mirth sparkling in his gold eyes. “hey, mind if i try on you? we can match!”

[la2yn0va]

Yo! Can i request some Yandere high cloud quinlet (together) x male reader, that has a habit of not caring at all for his life? Like the reader despite having a good reputantion and has one of the highest potential within the cloud knights. His powers/techniques foes harm to his body. (I Dunno if you seem jujutsu kaisen when Megumi summons Mahoraga, that summoning him cost the user his life? Well put the reader in a similar situation)

CW: Yandere characters, Suicidal(?) Reader

——

“Why are so intent on worrying us?” Dan Feng said as he healed your body with some strange vidyadhara technique. “Whaat? I’m not dead, and I’m pretty sure some random Mara-struck soldiers ain’t gonna kill ME” M/n had refuted, which seemed to tick off the high elder.

“That’s not the point! I’m talking about your technique!” He heaved out with frustration. M/n sighed and rolled his eyes, not wanting to hear the same speech he’d been hearing since he started. Dan Feng looked even more frustrated, grabbing his ear and harshly pulling and pinching

“Owowowow! Fuck!! Wait—!!” “Don’t get sassy with me m/n. This is serious!” He said, not hiding his frustration. M/n continued to yelp in pain. “Okay okay!! You’ve made your point!! Owowowow!!!” Just then, baiheng and Yingxinq walked in seeing Dan Feng harshly disciplining m/n.

They watched with mixed reactions, wanting to step in but also wanting to discipline you for, once again, getting them worried. “Have l?! I seem to remember ‘making my point’ to you repeatedly!! And yet you STILL go on and repeat your previous actions!!” He got increasingly more frustrated and pissed. However, before it could escalate, baiheng and yingxinq stepped in.

Yingxinq stopping Dan Feng and baiheng taking care of m/n’s hurtting ear “Calm down Feng. I’m sure he’s learned his lesson” “Don’t be a fool Yingxinq! How many times have I, Jingliu, and Jing yuan repeated this lecture with him and he has yet to take us seriously!”

“You okay sweetie~?” Baiheng said quietly, not missing the chance to get herself in m/n’s good side. He nodded and was immediately met with a slap on his nape “OW!!” “Are you trying to give us a heart attack!?” She said with worry, before he could respond, Yingqinx left a slap of his own.

“OW!! It’s a force of habit okay!? Plus, it’s not like—!” “What’s going on in here.” A colder voice sliced through m/n’s words. M/n froze as he saw jingliu walking in with jing yuan. “Good luck m/n” Yingxinq said as jingliu immediately walked angrily towards m/n.

“H-heyyyyyy jingliu…….. h-how’re you?” He nervously smiled as her red eyes glared into his. “Ahaha…I-I’m doing good to! I just came back from killing of monsters of the abundance—” “Did you use your technique?” She said, knowing the answer.

M/n stayed silent, nervously laughing and looking around to avoid the question. Jingliu had seen enough, harshly grabbing his other ear that wasn’t assaulted by Dan Feng’s wrath earlier and tugging and pinching his cheek “OWOWWWWWW!!!!!” He yelled as Jingliu DID. NOT. Hold back, making sure to dig it into his thick skull of how unacceptable his actions are.

“Are you actually this fucking dense!? How many times do I have to discipline you boy!!” She didn’t give him time to respond, her strength increasing by the second and managing to make his tear up slightly “OKAY OKAY I GET IT!!” “I DONT THINK YOU FUCKING DO!!”

Jing yuan and baiheng stepped up, both saving m/n from jingliu’s increasing wrath. “Calm down master. There’s a far more appropriate punishment then physical punishment” “Silence jing yuan! M/n needs to be reminded HARSHLY how—” “Let’s just.. hear him out jingliu” Baiheng’s reasonable voice managed to calm jingliu down.

“M/n. As General of the luofu, I’m banning you from the battlefield” “WHAT!!?” He yelled, the pain immediately being neglected as he stood up. Yingxinq keeping him from walking up to Jing yuan and throwing a punch.

“Until you grow out of this habit and change your technique, I will not allow you to rejoin the battle ground, and you WILL be arrested on sight” Jing yuan repeated with seriousness and authoritatively. M/n looked around, seeing that everyone was in agreement with this. “Your fucking kidding!” “Come on m/n. This is a reasonable reaction” “Yingxinq, you can’t actually—!” “I don’t see anything wrong with it” Baiheng interjected.

M/n growled lowly, clearly annoyed before walking away, only to be stopped by jingliu’s hand and Dan Feng’s tail. “Your not leaving our sight” Dan Feng said as m/n struggled against their grip, before giving up, deciding to try and escape later “Fine…”

-The End-

[sluttsumu]

let me live my fratboy!inarizaki dream okay?

chars: ‘tsumu, osamu, suna, & kita

nsfw — mdni, tw: corruption

fratboy!atsumu who is literally the worst person alive, but he’s hot and a good fuck so it makes it okay, okay?

he’s fucked every girl from his fan club and every bimbo on campus but that’s not what satisfies him at all. prissy, hard-to-get girls with their hymens still intact really turns him on. why? because he enjoys the chase of a women who won’t instantly fall to her knees for him. secretly finding information about his next target so he could casually end up in the same study period, or walking along the same path just so he could talk to her. it could be labeled kind ‘stalkery’ but he labeled it as persistent, because at the end of the day once her manicure was clawing at his back it’s mission accomplished, and onto the next. “you didn’t think i actually wanted you? did you” he’d chuckle in the faces of the girls who looked at him with tears in their eyes, he figured that in the end they would end up blaming themselves for fucking a known whore anyway.

fratboy!suna whose an old money nepo-baby, in which he flashes his parents cash to attract gold digger, wannabe future housewives.

slut is an understatement, calculated whore is a better term. as a psyc major he’s the king of gaslighting and manipulation, AND THE GIRLS EAT IT UP. unlike atsumu he somewhat puts in the effort to finding a girlfriend, but there’s always a new one…every month. being sly and cunning is genetic according to him, it’s also the same way he manipulates girls into not wearing condoms. “c’mon pretty, how’re gonna give me an heir with latex in the way, hmm?” and it works every time. every selfish, greedy girlfriend he’s had falls for his antics in hopes to marry their way into his family, and give him a baby. let’s just say the only “compensation” they got was from a therapist or him buying them off to get a plan b the next morning.

fratboy!kita who is literally so smart he manages to y= m (x+d)^2 + k, girls into his bed.

it’s all so innocent at first when he offers to carry a certain girls books, and that turns into him sitting next to her in class. it’s cute from a far, isn’t it? when in reality he’s just singled out the classes bimbo in hopes to tutor her. day by day he’d observe while sitting next to her, as she’d glance over at him to catch him staring from time to time. she thought that he was maybe admiring how pretty she was or caught on to her perfume of the day, but that was never the case. in his mind he was practically drooling over the way her tits spilled out of her shirt, or when they had a test and he could tell she stayed up all night because she looked completely fucked out. after her whining a few times about her grades he offered to help, which just turned into him making her that much dumber by fucking her over his desk till she was babbling. “stupid girls fall into stupid traps” he’d say, and the fact that he did this every semester meant that he was always right.

fratboy!osamu who is literally the most nonchalant asshole known around the entire campus.

osamu was too persuasive for his own good. he could never hold a solid relationship or friendship with anyone of the opposing gender, why? because he ends up fucking all of his female friends, and then ghosting them not even 24 hours after. his tricks were the same with every girl, and a night out with him always turned into the walk of shame the following morning. the only notifications any girl would receive from him afterwards is a copy of their intoxicated sex tape which most don’t remember making and a follow up message saying “my friends think you look really good on camera btw”. confronting him after study hall the next day wouldn’t change a thing, simply because the only response he’d give was “do i know you?”

SLUTTSUMU 2023

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

A/N: Reader is on their period and feeling under the weather. Daryl goes above and beyond caring for them. "Hey," you murmured, wandering into the kitchen, awake but definitely not fully.

Daryl turned away from the steaming pots on the stove and the scattered ingredients over the counter. "Oh—hey. Shit, I didn't—I hope I wasn't bein' too loud out here. Did I wake ya up?"

You shook your head vaguely, letting your eyes wander over the kitchen chaos to a couple books open on the table. "No. You didn't wake me up... what's—what's going on out here?"

Daryl hastily wiped his hands on a nearby towel which he then slung over his shoulder in a purely domestic move that had you smiling despite your exhaustion. "How're ya feelin'? Any better?"

"Still tired. Just really tired," you mused, wandering toward the books. "Daryl—what is all this stuff?" you asked again.

He shook his hair back out of his face. "Well—uhh—I talked to Denise and she let me borrow these books on nutrition so I looked up, um..." He shuffled the books out of the way. "I looked up what to do to help with the low iron and anemia ya get pretty much every month...like now. And then I went to the pantry and got—well, c'mere—" You were staring at him with an unreadable expression but drifted over toward the stove, following him. "I got dried beans and lentils and I found some seeds for spinach so I planted those in a container but yer gonna have to wait for that a bit... and I found some dried fruits and nuts that should be good too. Ain't as good as iron from meat but the game's still scarce so..." he trailed off and then glanced at you almost hesitantly. "Wish I could just go pick up a steak and some eggs for ya but—"

"You did all this because I get low iron from my stupid uterus every month?"

He nodded and shrugged. He still couldn't read your expression. Maybe you thought he'd gone a bit overboard. "Yeah..." He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the steaming pots on the stove. "Dinner'll be done soon."

Your expression cracked and he saw tears in your eyes. "Daryl—" You threw your arms around his neck and arched up onto your toes to hug him, your body flush against his. "That's the nicest fucking thing," you managed through the lump of emotion in your throat.

His arms draped around your lower back and pressed you in tight against him. "Ain't nothin'. 'M sorry ya gotta deal with this shit every month. How things are now just makes everythin' harder..."

You sniffled and pulled back, mopping your tearstained cheeks with your sleeve. "You make them easier," you said, smiling at him fondly.

He ducked his head a little bit and shrugged again. "I'd—I'd do anythin' for ya."

You laughed and more tears broke from your eyes again. You pressed a hand to clasp his face fondly. "I'd do the same for you, you know."

He nodded. "I know. Now, c'mon. Sit down. Dun wear yerself out." He guided you over to a chair and you obeyed, still looking at him with gratitude and some disbelief at this man who called you his and really would do anything for you.

A/N: Guys, my heart! UGHHHHH <3

[deadsetobsessions]

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.2

[Pt.1]

Peter’s no stranger to memories that comes as nightmares. There’s something different to them, the taste of terror that’s tinged with a feeling of “that’s happened.”

Flashes of Aunt May, dying as he stood next to her while choosing the city over her? Old hat. Inky darkness surrounding MJ falling as Peter reached for her, over and over again? Been there, seen that, didn’t even get a sick scar out of it. Racing against the clock to defeat some bad guy or an unknown threat? That’s his Thursday.

But this?

This isn’t his. It’s real, Peter could tell that much. Sure, it’s wrapped up in silk hisses and heart crushing terror, but Peter could always tell whether a nightmare was a nightmare or whether it was a memory.

This was a memory. Not his. His. It’s complicated.

“Your father, papito, he-,”

Then, it’d be the ruffle of his hair, brown eyes. It reminded him of his mom. But the crease of these eyes were different. Hardened, mean. Even towards him.

“Well, he said no, but I knew what he really wanted.”

The base of Peter’s neck always crawled when he remembered that line. His spider-sense warned him that whatever he’s remembering, he would not like.

“Ey, Peter.”

“Huh?” Peter blinked, looking up from where his arms were elbow deep in wires.

“Don’cha need gloves with that?” Frank asked, munching on some jerky. They were sitting in the living room, repairing a TV and a washer Frank had somehow managed to lug back to the apartment. It’s a toss up between Frank’s network of orphans (Peter included), street rats (these things are not mutually inclusive), or his own slightly higher than average strength. Not that they needed to thrift broken things, considering Peter’s funneling money from offshore bank accounts belonging to this America’s 1%. They just made it so easy! He and Ned had been hacking into government bases in middle school back on his world. This world? Not even a challenge. Regardless, this was kind of like… Frank’s version of those fancy sensory boxes for Peter.

“Oh, no. It’s not plugged in, see?”

“How’re ya gunna know it works then?”

“Plug it in after I’m done. Turn it off and on, you know?”

Frank stared at him, then rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“If you burn down that portion of the house, at least we’ll be warm for a bit.”

“Thanks. Your confidence in me is astounding.”

“You talk like an old man.”

“I do not! Excuse you! If I’m old, you’re the expired knock off cup ramen in the back of a convenience store!”

“Yo, shrimpy, that’s rude, ya hear?” Frank snickered, impressed at the quip. The Alley kid turned brother stood up to plop next to Peter.

“So… you gonna go…?” Frank made a whooshing sound and held his hand in a web shooter position.

“Tonight? Prolly. Anything I should look out for?”

“You’re gunna get yourself killed, but yeah, heard the gang’s back up north.”

Peter flashed a smile, dimples coming out. “I’ll try not to. Thanks, Frank.”

“Anytime, Spidey.”

Frank, though little (to Peter), was a good friend. Then again, considering Peter saved his ass both in mask and out of it, it’s to be expected. One would think that after eight years of hiding his identity, Peter would be better at it. Then, he got punted into a different world and got made by a child.

To be fair, the circumstances all but screamed Parker Luck, so Peter’s not counting this instance.

See, the first few days of this sudden cohabitation, Peter had asked Frank to find them furniture. Both because he was getting real sick of eating on the floor and because Peter needed to fix his suit to match his much younger body. Then, once he readjusted the shrinking nanotech and the spider legs to fit him in a way that wouldn’t break him, Peter had promptly swung out of the building and went patrolling. He stuck with the wandering Frank, taking out muggers and robbers and everything in between and past that around the area where Frank is.

Looking back, Peter realized how lucky he was when he decided to go on the “helping joyride” at the beginning of the evening. His spider-sense activated way later in the night, the moment where he began seeing and sensing the cameras that kept pointing towards him. He ducked and dodged out of the way, and eventually, the feeling left. Somebody was watching. And he doesn’t know where they stood on the moral side of things.

Anyways, it happened after three weeks and a half of going out and just… settling into life in Gotham. He had already been struggling to find a way home, scouring the libraries around Gotham on any subject that would aid in his multiversal travel. Peter would like to know which emo kid named this city.

Eventually, Parker Luck decided to strike once more.

“Get back, freak!” The lady brandished a wicked knife.

Talk about deja vu.

“Oh no! Knives! My greatest weakness!” Spider-Man yelled, sticking to the shadowed windows as he let his voice echo in the alley. Gotham had a lot of nice hiding places. Spider-man dropped down on her head like a bat out of hell and webbed the knife out of her hands. He webbed the mugger up onto the alleyway above normal reach, and told the man to call the police.

Frank screamed, just as Spider-man wrapped it up, loud enough to reach his enhanced hearing.

“Wait-!” The man tried to stop him, but Peter, small, trained, and having readjusted his reach, slipped away.

“What’s your name?!” The guy he saved yelled at his back.

Spider-man, distracted, yelled back, “SPIDEY!”

He shot webs upwards and used them to slingshot his way towards where Frank was. And… car! Peter used his webs to swing up, up, and let himself fall to gain momentum. At the last moment, Peter shot a web to the top of the car and pulled himself to it.

Shit, shit, shit. He’s stupidly attached to the kid, and he was stupid enough to let Frank go out into Gotham looking both well-fed and well clothed.

The world slowed as he locked eyes with a terrified Frank, who was getting dragged into a car.

The world narrowed to speed and Spider-Man landed on top of the car roof, sweeping his leg out and thankfully remembering his much shorter reach. His foot collided with the kidnapper’s face with the equivalent force of a grown up, slightly annoyed Peter Parker who’s letting his strength go a bit unchecked. Basically, they went flying, blood spewing out of the undoubtedly broken nose Spider-Man had just given them.

Standing on business, the shorter webster promptly flipped down wards as he all but glued the would-be kidnapper to the curb.

“You alright?”

“You’re- You’re that new mask.” Frank whispered, scuttling away from the car where he’d been dropped.

“Yeah, man. You okay?” His voice modulator came in clutch.

“Fuck. Fuck, I gotta-” Frank stumbled. The kid looked like he was one bad break away from snapping. Peter hated it when kids got that terrified look on their faces, it reminded him of himself, helpless as Ben bled out because they should never have to fear something that much.

Something’s wrong, though. As much as Peter wished otherwise, Frank was a Gotham bred and true alley kid, through and through. These kids don’t spook easily. Peter already stopped a couple of kidnappings and at least two of the kids had yelled at him to stay out of the way before unloading a rain of nut kicks on their kidnappers that left Peter wincing for days in sympathy. Frank being this spooked? Something’s going on.

“Woah, easy there, I’m not gonna hurt you,”

Frank shot him a half hysterical, half condescending look. Yeah, that’s more like it.

“Ob-obviously. I have to go before more of them comes,” Frank muttered.

“More of them? You know what they want?”

Frank stared at him, looking up and down at his blue, red, and gold ensemble.

“I can help,” Peter promised.

“What’re your thoughts on metas?”

Suspicious.

“Uh, they’re fine? Depends on the person, why?”

Frank sighed. The skinny teenager, barely 14, tugged at his hair. “They’re traffickers. Meta kids, mostly, so the Bats don’t do nothing. I- uh, I got caught.” He held up a thin wrist, showing Peter his new accessorie, a think metal bracelet that was beeping red.

Peter cursed in his head. Fuck, of course he’d stumble into a-

“Caught? You’re a meta?”

Frank nodded. “Strength. This is an inhibitor, illegal kind, you know?”

Well, that explained how he got all of those furniture without struggle.

“Right. Hey, don’t stress, kid, I’m a meta too.”

Frank blinked.

“What?”

Peter walked up the side of the car and did jazz hands.

“You’re a meta?! But- but you’re a mask operating in Gotham!”

“Yeah…? Is that weird?”

Before Frank could reply, Peter’s sense screamed and Spider-Man shoved Frank away from the spray of bullets.

“Move, Frank!”

Peter flipped away, vaguely aware of Frank’s gaping realization. He took down the shooters in quick succession, stopping the speeding car with his bare hands and some webs.

“Shooters, no shooting!” He yelled, liberally applying force he tended to keep under wraps. Frank was like a brother to him, and there is no universe where Peter Parker would hold back when his family was in danger.

When he got back to Frank, who had oddly stayed instead of running, Peter found out why the kid stayed.

“Peter?!” Frank hissed lowly, looking more pissed off than terrified. “Are you fucking insane?! Why are you running ‘round as a mask?!”

“Shhh!” Shit, he got made. “Come on, get back to the apartment and we can talk there. I’ll get rid of this-”

Peter casually snapped the bracelet in half, tearing the tracker out, and tucked it away to study later.

“Fuckin’- shit, fine, but you’re explaining everything, motherfucker!”

They split, Peter guessing correctly that he was in another lecture of a lifetime.

——

“Your vigilante name is Spiderman?”

“Hey, I can hear you say it without the hyphen! There’s a hyphen in there!”

“You’re not a man! You’re a twerp!”

“I’ll show you twerp, you-”

Five minutes of tussling later, in which Peter did not try to bite Frank’s arm off, thank you very much, Frank leaned back on the couch.

“Besides. People in the streets are calling you Spidey, anyways.”

“Spidey?”

“Some dude you saved from a mugging said you told him.”

Peter slammed his head on the floor where he was laying face down.

“Ughhhh.”

——

“He could have been great. I saw his potential.”

Anger. But he shouldn’t be afraid. The woman loved him.

“Hey, Peter. You’re up here again.”

“Hi.” Peter stayed curled up. His mind had refused him sleep for the last three nights, causing dark circles to appear underneath his eyes. The memories of what he assumed to be this world’s Peter was merging with his. What he’d seen so far did not fill him with confidence of a happy childhood. Flashes of wielding weapons, the sterile smell of a metal dissection table, and hundreds and hundreds of spiders crawling over him, getting startled into biting down. Plus, the stress of tracking down the meta trafficking circles in Gotham was no joke. He doesn’t know Gotham nearly as well as he knew New York, and he had to be extra careful running around and trying to catch every bit of the circle before making any moves. Frank was helping with his network of homeless Meta kids, but the traffickers were everywhere except for Crime Alley.

He should be dead. They sold his body to an organ harvester who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version.

“Everything all right?” Red Robin clambered down to sit next to him, cowl hiding the concerned scrunch of his brow. He’s never seen Peter like this.

Peter grumbled, staring down at another alleyway. He knows his alternate died. His shit excuse for another sold his body to an organ harvester, when he seized on the operating table, who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version. He does, however, have to worry about missing vital organs.

“I… remembered something.” Peter remembered a lot of things. And pretty much none of them were good. This Peter suffered a lot in his short life.

Red Robin nodded. The issue of Peter’s spotty memories had come up in their discussions over the past month.

“Ah. Something unpleasant?”

Peter thought back to the voice who, despite all of the other, highly traumatic memories, haunted his brain like nothing else.

“He didn’t live up to it. He refused to kill. So I made the decision for him.”

“Yeah. Not for me, but unpleasant that I know about it.”

“Yeah, I get that. You wanna talk about it?” Peter hid a small smile. Even though Red Robin kept his tone light, the concern still bled through. Warm. It made Peter feel warm. Even if it appeared that the Bats don’t really care about the trafficked meta kids… maybe Red Robin would come save normal kid Peter if he got kidnapped. A backup plan to consider. For now…

“Sure,” he said. Red Robin waited patiently.

“I think, I remember someone. Maybe, maybe my…” Peter grimaced. “My mom? She… told me something. And uh, I think I’maproductofrape.”

“Oh,” Red Robin said, so awkwardly that Peter had to crack a small smile despite the gravity of the topic. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. Not myself, but for…” Peter waved a hand. “You know.”

“Yeah.”

“She wasn’t a good person,” Peter whispered and hated how he missed the browns of her eyes- her middle name was Marie, and god, Peter wished he hadn’t known that because he gets why her eyes reminded him so much of his own mother- and she besmirched everything Mary Parker stood for.

“You have our combined potential, Peter. Make sure not to be like him too much and live up to it, papito.”

“It’s okay, to love her even if she hurt other people,” Red Robin said, gently ruffling his greasy hair. Peter’s spidey-sense tingled and he ducked away. Red Robin withdrew his hand. “Because you can’t really help that. Trust me, I’ve tried. You just have to make sure they don’t get the chance to do what they did again.”

Cold, cold voices and his voice gave out from screaming. “You really are your father’s son. Never being able to do what’s necessary.”

And Peter wondered what happened to Red Robin and who hurt him. Peter would just like to talk. Red Robin reminded him of himself, way back when being Spider-Man meant finding out Harry became Green Goblin. Pained. Tired.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. But that’s not really a problem, considering the last thing the organ harvester said before dumping him in an alley. “She’s dead in a ditch in Siberia or something. I’m not really worried she’ll do it again.”

“Uh.”

“It’s cool,”

“Right. Have you… remembered your dad?”

“Yeah. He’s in Gotham,” Peter unfurled a little.

“You want help tracking him down? I’m good at that kind of thing.”

Peter glanced at Red Robin. “I think you just admitted to being a stalker.”

“Vigilante,” Red Robin shrugged, like it explained everything. And yeah, it kind of did. Peter snorted.

“Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to meet him anyways.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about me,” Peter ticked off his fingers. “I’m a literal walking, talking, breathing reminder of his trauma. And I don’t need a dad.”

Red Robin looked at him silently. Peter doesn’t think about it.

He never wanted to see his parents suffer. An alternate version of his dad, hurt so irrevocably by an alternate version of his mom?

Peter hated that this Catalina dirtied his mother’s name, and went against the most fundamental parts of what the spider symbol was meant for. And considering he’s been doing this longer than her, he had first dibs on defining it. He’ll look after his dad, as long as he’s stuck in Gotham. It’s only right.

“His name? Oh, my son, it’s Richard Grayson.”

——

Peter, who Trusts his instincts: no head rubs?? awwwww

Tim, who’s been trying to get a dna sample for the last month: how does he keep evading me?? He must be a genius or a spy or- *spirals down the conspiracy board*

——

Tim: I’ve connected the dots!

Peter: you’ve connected jack shit

——

Listen, the moment I learned Catalina Flores’ middle name, the pieces clicked, okay? Like legos. It’s like, former FBI agent in this one and former CIA agent in Peter’s home universe? Wow. Middle name Marie? Mary Parker? Incredible. Spider themes run in the blood apparently?? They both have brown eyes!! Trying to do good with no qualms about murder!! (I’m assuming since Mary Parker was SHIELD and I don’t think SHIELD cared much for the sanctity of human life if it threatened the country or something)

[katebishopsbaefy]

Shoot Me

billie eilish x reader

𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚

summary: you and billie both get your periods at the same time and are the definition of miserable

word count: 1219

You roll over with a groan, pressing your face back into your girlfriend’s side, clutching your stomach. You feel her arms wrap around you. She obviously wanted to feel you as much as you wanted to feel her.

You and Billie had been unfortunate enough to get your periods at the same time, so now here you lay, sprawled on your bed, clutching your stomachs, groaning occasionally. Somehow you’d managed to not only lose track of your heating pads, but you’d also completely run out of pain relief medication, and neither of you felt well enough to drive to the store to get some.

Billie gently kisses your forehead when you press into her. She grunts as she reaches one arm over to the nightstand to check her phone, muttering out a low “shit” upon seeing the many texts and missed calls from her brother, who she was supposed to meet up with today.

You rub your eye and look up at her. “What’s wrong?” you mumble.

She swings her arm back over to hug you tighter, deciding to deal with Finneas later. “Nothing,” she whispers, starting to rub your back. You hum at the touch. “How’re you feeling?”

You grumble out something about feeling like shit, but it comes out muffled due to your face pressing further into her. Your hand finds its way underneath her loose t-shirt in search of more comfort.

This time, she hums at your touch. The weight of you laying on top of her serves as a weighted blanket, and although it’s comfortable, it doesn’t do much for her cramps. “This sucks,” she states. You hum in agreement.

Your short conversation is interrupted by multiple aggressive dings from her phone. She groans again and reaches back over, checking the new texts from her brother.

“Who’s that?” you ask.

She lets out a huff. “Finneas,” she mumbles, “I forgot I was s’pposed to meet up with him today.”

You whine and grip her tighter in response. “Mmm, don’t leave me.”

“I don’t think I could go anywhere even if I wanted to,” she says, giggling quietly at you.

She hadn’t realized that she forgot to respond to him yet again, getting distracted by you, until the sudden alarm of her ringtone and buzzing of her phone forces her to finally respond. You both jump at the sound before she answers. You can hear a faint “hello???” from the other end.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ignore you,” Billie says, exhaustion lacing her voice. “I’ve been asleep all day, me and y/n have the worst cramps ever.” She shifts a little and waits for Finneas to respond. “Actually yeah, that would be super helpful if you have time.” Another pause. “Can I send you a list?” Short pause. “Okay, great, see you later.”

The loss of her warmth makes you groan as she flips you off of her to sit up. “What’d he say?” you ask.

“He said he has some time, so he’s gonna pick some stuff up for us,” she responds. Taking your shared blanket with her, she gets out of bed. You groan for probably the 500th time, but she ignores you and grabs your arm, effectively dragging you out of bed too. “Come on, we’re gonna go sit on the couch.”

“Just shoot me instead,” you mumble. You clutch your pillow to your stomach and trudge your way down the hall with her to the living room. 

She laughs at your remark. “At least we get more time to hang out,” she says, gently bumping her hip with yours. You smile at her and bump her back.

It feels like an hour has passed by the time you make it to the couch. You flop down, immediately leaning into Billie’s side, and you feel her do the same. She sits up for a moment to wrap you in the blanket again before snuggling back into you. “Wanna watch something?” she asks, to which you shrug, and she flicks on a random channel.

You completely lose track of time sitting with her. You have no idea what show’s playing, being too distracted by her hands, which you had taken into your lap. Fingers laced together, palms pressed, her warm hands warming up your cold ones. You’re so spaced out playing with her fingers that you don’t realize you’re starting to fall asleep until she giggles at you.

“Sleepy?” she asks. You look up at her, noticing her eyes starting to droop as well.

“No,” you whisper, reaching a hand up point at her jokingly, “are you?” She shakes her head.

At some point, you had both begun to shift around, so uncomfortable from your cramps. When Finneas arrives at your place, he finds you passed out, sprawled on one side of the couch, gripping your pillow. Billie hogs the blanket on the other side, and your heads meet in the corner. He smiles and snaps a quick picture to send to you later. 

He quietly makes his way over to your kitchen, careful not to make too much noise with his bags. Ice cream, chocolate, and other comfort foods are unloaded into the fridge. Despite how quiet he tries to be, the soft rustling is enough to wake Billie, who quickly sits up and pads over to him, dragging her blanket behind her. “Hey, you don’t have to do that,” she says quietly.

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. Go sit back down.”

“But I feel bad,” she mutters. She plops down onto a seat at the kitchen island, resting her head on her arms.

Finneas slides her a container of pain medication over the table, which she gratefully accepts, downing a couple of pills. “If you wanna do something…” he says, rifling through the bags, “go pop these in the microwave for a minute.” He pulls out two stuffed animals, unzipping them from the back to take out the pad to be heated up. Billie audibly sighs at the sight.

“Oh my God, you’re literally a life saver,” she breathes. After heating them up, she makes her way back over to the couch, where you’re still sound asleep.

“Y/n,” she whispers, gently rubbing your shoulder to wake you up. Your eyes flutter open and you smile at her. “Hi, my love. I’ll trade you,” she says, referring to the pillow you’re still clutching. You gratefully switch with her, pulling the stuffed toy to your stomach and letting out a breath at the relief it provided. “Better?” she asks, kissing your forehead softly as your eyes close again.

You hum. “Thank you,” you say to her, and, louder this time, “thanks, Finneas.”

He and Billie talk for a little longer, deciding to make up the work they were supposed to do another day, and she thanks him excessively, to which he shrugs every time. Then he leaves, leaving the two of you alone again.

As she sits back down, she pulls your head into her lap. Her hand in your hair, yours on her back underneath her shirt. A few short minutes later, your fingers stop tracing patterns into her skin, and she knows you’d fallen back to sleep. She scoots around, getting more comfortable before falling asleep too.

No matter how shitty you felt, she always made you feel better.

[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

Post-Mission TLC

Beefy!Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: Just you and Bucky, in the tub, and you taking care of him

Warnings: unapologetic fluff!, Nonsexual nudity, me-typical gratuitous use of pet-names, Everyone is alive, Bucky is an Avenger, cuddling,

A/N: I've been writing a lot of hurt/comfort as of late, so let's get some No Hurt Just Comfort.

((18+ only below the cut please and thank you!!))

Bucky stumbled through the door of your shared apartment of the Avengers Compound, exhausted

The mission had been grueling, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed beside you

You broke into a huge smile when you saw your boyfriend, racing to him and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Welcome home, Sweet Boy,” you kissed his lips, “how’re you doing?”

Bucky let out a little groan, and you noticed that he was leaning against you

He never slept well on missions, you knew that.

But what you didn’t know was that he hadn’t been able to sleep longer than about three hours collectively over the last two days

When taking the HYDRA base he, Steve, and Sam had ended in a long string of guerilla attacks from their goons, leaving all of them taken out.

You looked at him with concern when you looked him in the eyes, “Baby, are you okay?”

“Tired,” he hummed, fighting to keep his eyes open.

You took his face in both hands and stroked his cheekbones.

“Oh, Baby Boy…” you cooed, brushing his hair behind his ear, “c’mon, Buck. Why don’t I run you a bath, and after we can get all cozy in bed?”

He hummed, and you helped him kick off his boots before carefully removing the harnesses, belts, and holsters from his body.

“Come on, Baby. Follow me.” You took his hand and led him to the bathroom.

You sat him down on the toilet, turned on the water, and began to gently remove the layers of leather and Kevlar until he was bare chested in front of you.

As you worked you caught your boyfriend looking at you with sleepy, loving eyes, and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“My handsome soldier,” you stroked his cheek with your thumb, “I love you.”

Bucky gave you that dopey, lop-sided grin you couldn't get enough of, “l’ve’y’too.”

You smiled at his slurred words and helped him to his feet, helping him out of his socks, pants, and boxers.

“C'mon Baby Boy,” you said, gently helping him into the tub, “let's get you washed up.”

“Get’n’wi’me?” he asked, giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes you've ever seen.

You nodded and slipped off your clothes, “of course, Honey.”

Once you were fully bare, you sat down in the tub behind him, pulling him into your arms.

It was a little difficult, since Bucky was so much larger than you, but eventually you managed to get him nestled against you, his back pressed against your chest

You grabbed the plastic cup that you kept by the side of the tub for instances like this and smiled, “alright Sweet Boy, head back. I’m gonna wet your hair, okay?”

He did as instructed and you dipped the cup in the water, shielding his eyes and pouring it in his hair over and over.

Bucky’s eyes drifted shut and he melted at the feeling.

When his hair was sufficiently wet, you grabbed his shampoo and began to massage the soap into his scalp

He sunk down as you continued to scrub.

Bucky loved the way that your hands felt in his long locks, how your nails gently scratched against his headIt made him melt

“Alright, Baby Boy,” you cooed, “let me rinse, okay?”

Bucky nodded, and the warm water was poured on his head again, your hands working to rinse him, and your lips peppering little kisses along the scarred skin of his back.

Once his hair was free from bubbles, Bucky felt you running your hands through his dark locks, gently finger-combing the knots out

His hair had gotten so much longer since he’d joined the team, growing well past his shoulders and making it hard to keep it free from tangles on missions

(He was still too nervous about having scissors or clippers near his head to cut it short again, despite his wants)

You always made sure to take extra care with his hair when he returned, and it made him melt.

Always so gentle, so loving and tender with your touches

Bucky could cry, it felt so good.

He didn’t even realized he’d dozed off while you were working until you nudged him awake

You had a soft washcloth in your hand, you’d washed his back while he’d napped.

“I know you’re tired, Baby Boy,” you cooed, kissing his shoulder, “but you need to stay up just a little longer, okay? I gotta finish getting you washed up, you’ll sleep a lot better once you’re nice and clean.”

He nodded, blinking sleep out of his eyes as you helped him turn to face you

You gently washed the dirt and soot from his face, ending with a a little peck on his scruffy cheek

His eyes were getting heavy as you cleaned every inch of his body with the utmost care, so once you were done you took him in your arms and let him rest for a few minutes before helping him out of the tub.

You towel dried him off and guided him to sit on the closed lid of the toilet.

“Alright, Honey,” you smiled, “I’m gonna get you some clothes–”

“Nooooooo,” Bucky whined, looking at you with puppy dog eyes again, “wan’skin-on-skin…”

“Alright, Baby, whatever you want.” He made a happy little hum, “I’m gonna comb your hair and then we can lay down, okay?”

He stayed so still for you as you carefully worked the knots out of his long, dark locks, finishing by spraying some leave-in conditioner into his hair.

“C’mon, Bucky,” you took his hand and led him back into your bedroom, “come lay down with me.”

While you turned down your bed you handed him the water bottle he kept on his nightstand

“Can I get you to drink something for me, Sweetheart? We can lay down in a minute.”

Bucky took some long sips off of it as you got settled in bed. You smiled.

“C’mon Darling, come lay down with me.”

You took him in your arms the second he laid down, pulling his large, warm body to you.

Bucky laid down on top of you, and you let your one hand rub his broad back while the other stroked his hair

He was asleep within minutes, his peaceful little snores filling the room.

You smiled softly and kissed his forehead, cradling his head against your chest.

“Good night, Baby Boy. Sleep well, I love you.”

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 12 ⬅ch.11

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | wc 3.5k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | i am sooooooooo sorry if this seems ooc for ghost. i wanted to write him acting more empathetic while also maintaining his cold demeanor. i think some people tend to write him one way or the other and so i tried to balance it a bit more to be realistic. but if this felt ooc for ghost im so sorry!! feedback is appreciated so i can improve upcoming chapters! &lt;3

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

the startling realization that you were sleeping in simon’s room is what woke you up that following morning. you sat up in his bed, the covers falling away from your chest, and you noticed he was gone. it was strange how this was the second time you shared a bed—completely platonically—with him and he was m.i.a. come morning.

you tried not to think too deeply about it, not wanting to get your feelings hurt even more than they already were. you were able to put what had happened between the two of you in the back of your mind yesterday, squishing down his words that hurt you so badly. 

you looked good in your dress. that’s all. m’sorry.

but that was yesterday. that was when he was the first face you saw after thinking you were about to be tortured. the face that rescued you. that was when he carried you back to base, his arms around you like a safety blanket. when he was the sense of security you desperately needed. when you felt like you needed him. 

this morning, your mind was far clearer. you even realized how stupid you were to let simon be that person for you when johnny was right there. 

you scurried from his room, still draped in his shirt, and made it back to your own. you told yourself you would visit the infirmary today, not for work, but to get yourself checked out. you weren’t hurt too badly, nothing that couldn’t heal with a little time. but still, you should really get checked over. and you were sure laswell or price would want to have a word with you about everything that happened. 

before you even managed to shift through your thoughts, johnny was at your door.

“how’re ya feelin’?” 

you grabbed your toiletries bag and spun to face to scot. “i’m okay.”

he gave you a once over. “are you sure?” he said a bit softer.

you gave him a gentle smile. “don’t worry, i’m just going to shower. then straight to the infirmary to get checked out.” you gave him a mock salute. 

johnny shook his head as he followed you out your door and down the hall towards the showers. “no, not that.” you glanced at him. “well, no, of course i wanted to make sure you were gonna be seen by a medic, but i was referring to the… psychological side of things.”

you laughed at his phrasing. “i’ll be okay, johnny. seriously. i mean, i know what happened terrified me and hasn’t left my thoughts since, but i could be a lot worse.” you were trying to make light of the situation. and while johnny understood that all too well, he still wasn’t convinced you were truly back to normal just a day after your kidnapping. 

you were taken a bit back. for once, soap didn’t seem to appreciate your humor. “and with ghost?” 

you almost dropped your bag, stumbling in your steps. “w-what about him?” 

“i saw him carrying you into base. the way ya clung to him. i just want t’make sure you’re okay.” his eyes trailed the shirt you were wearing—'swimming in' was more accurate—knowing it wasn't yours, but ghost's.

you sighed before spinning to face him. you wanted to make this very clear to soap: “he was the first person i saw. he was the one i saw close on my tail when i was trapped in that truck. he was the face who barged into that room after slaughtering men, pulling me out of that hole. i think i was just overwhelmed and felt like i needed him . y’know… a safety thing. but that has passed. i’m fine. fine .” soap raised a brow, not quite believing you. “nothing happened,” you said a bit bashful, noticing the way soap was staring at you like he thought more had gone down last night, and wearing ghost's shirt sure wasn't helping. “he just kept me company so i could fall asleep without thinking about…” your words trailed off. “point is, i appreciate you looking out for me, but i’m okay. i won’t let him…” a beat of silence passed as you looked for the words. “i won’t read things wrong again.” the sentence was a struggle to get out; like ash on your tongue.

you could see the concern on johnny’s face, so before he could protest and pry more, you slipped into the women’s showers so he couldn’t follow.

after showering and visiting the infirmary—-yes, you have been cleared—-you were making your way to price’s office. you assumed laswell would be there as well. 

you adjusted your black shirt as you strolled the halls, careful to not move in any way that would hurt your sore ribs. you walked past the gym, peeking in to see if you could spot gaz, surprised he hadn’t come to see you yet, and you almost choked on your spit.

you spotted simon—- ghost—- across the room in workout gear, addressing a new recruit. you hadn’t recognized her but you knew there were new recruits coming in this week so you assumed her to be one of them. 

you tried to pull your eyes away, but they were latched on to the tall brute and the shorter woman beside him. ghost hunched over slightly as he spoke to her and you saw her smile. her hand reached out and touched his arm softly and you felt your fists clench. 

ghost wasn’t yours . 

he was barely even your friend. he could flirt with whoever he wanted. it shouldn’t matter to you. and you knew you were overreacting. who's to say they were flirting? you hadn’t known ghost to be the best charmer, so why would he all of a sudden be cozying up to a woman he only just met?

soap’s words popped into your head: come to think of it. i don’t think i’ve known ghost to have hooked up with anyone since i’ve met the bastard.

all these rational thoughts and yet you ignored them. all you felt was a pang in your gut as you watched him instruct her, testing her skills, his hand lingering on her hip a bit too long. his eyes locked on hers. 

you didn’t feel any tears welling—so that was an improvement—all you felt was disappointment. ghost was emotionally unavailable. he also explicitly said he didn’t want you. this fantasy you had of him in your head was purely that: a fantasy. 

you had thought maybe he felt differently with the way his eyes traced your curves last night in the light of the bathroom. that maybe him letting you see him with his mask off was him letting you in. that he wanted to form some sort of relationship with you even if it was foreign to him.

but all of those thoughts went out the door. there were so many reasons why it would never work between the two of you. seeing him with that woman wasn’t what made you feel that way. all it did was remind you of the reality of your situation.

you sulked into price’s office, the smell of cigars filling your nose.

price’s warm greeting, his gentle smile, and his all-over fatherly presence set you back at ease. 

when laswell entered, her soothing hand on your shoulder reminded you that you could live so fucking easily without ghost. you had a family here. and while you had hoped to let ghost become one of those people to you, it wasn’t the end of the world by any means if he didn’t.

a week had passed and you had resorted to pretending like anything private that ever happened between you and ghost had never occurred. you weren’t going to sulk over him any longer. you thought he was attractive. that was it. you hooked up once and it didn’t work out. you were an adult, you could move on. 

you laughed animatedly at soap, grabbing his arm in your fit. ghost spotted you across the training room, your laughter floating over into his space, pissing him off.

he expected you to have wanted to talk to him after that night in his room. but you never did. you never sought him out. never came by to let him know everything at the infirmary checked out okay. granted, he never came after you either. 

he got up when he saw you leaving and followed you out the door. 

“iaso,” he called.

you stopped and spun to face him, smiling. “what’s up, lt.?” 

ghost was a bit taken aback by your friendly demeanor. not that you weren’t a friendly person, but you were acting oddly like nothing ever happened. like ghost hadn’t pulled you into his arms a week ago, his chest pounding and his arms shaking as he held you.

“jus’ wanted to see if you were okay,” he said dumbly.

“all good. don’t worry, i’ve been cleared to be back to work.” you smiled then turned and walked away.

ghost had never been left so dumbfounded before. he cracked his knuckles in annoyance.

you seemed to be ignoring him. 

whenever ghost entered a room you were in, you’d leave. he saw you linking arms with soap as you walked the halls, never meeting ghost’s eyes. he knew soap was visiting you in the infirmary on your breaks and he always seemed awkward when it came up between them. you even managed to get out of a poker session where ghost was present. you had stood up the second he walked into that room, calling it a night and tossing your cards in the middle of the table.

“she’s ignoring me,” ghost huffed as he shuffled through the dossiers on his desk. he was acting like he had any claim over you. like he had a right to your friendship.

“who?” soap asked. ghost looked up and glared at his friend. “i think you give yourself too much credit. she’s not ignoring you, lt. she’s just accepted your rejection and moved on with her life.”

“i didn’t reject her.”

soap rolled his eyes. “you really wanna go down that road?” 

ghost mumbled in annoyance as he stared at the words on the paper before him. 

“didn’t think you’d care, if i’m being honest.”

ghost glared at soap, waiting for him to elaborate since he clearly wanted to further this conversation.

“ her opinion of you ,” soap clarified. “you made it pretty clear you wanted nothing from her, so i just assumed that meant you wouldn’t be bothered by her ignoring you n’all.” 

ghost tapped his pen on his desk. “so she is ignoring me, then.”

“i didn’t say that.”

ghost knew he couldn’t fight logistics with soap, with soap being… soap and all. “we have actual shit t’go over. important intel before we depart friday.” 

soap slipped into the chair in front of ghost’s desk. “you started it.” 

“i didn’t—- bloody hell ,” he grumbled rubbing his hand over his face. soap tried to hold back his smirk. 

“y’know she’s coming with us,” soap said, referencing the mission soon to happen in the coming days based on the information the men had acquired from valeria. 

“well aware,” ghost said flatly. 

the idea of you being forced to be in ghost’s proximity tomorrow, knowing you couldn’t avoid it like you had been, made his chest swell slightly. he didn’t want to admit this to himself, but he wanted you to want him. desperately . and hearing soap talk about you, always seeing the two of you together, ghost felt like he was pushing you straight into his friend’s arms. 

he should have been okay with that. whether he found you attractive or not, he shouldn’t have felt jealous when he saw you with soap. he’s found plenty of women attractive, and plenty of them were involved with someone else. that usually didn’t bother ghost at all. he was fine admiring pretty ladies knowing they would never be his. he didn’t want them to be his. so this resentment he was feeling towards soap was new to him. 

he unclenched his fist. 

“jus’ wanna make sure you’re gonna behave yourself,” soap chimed. 

“christ, johnny. i’m not—”

soap cut him off. “i’m serious, lt. i know i don’t have this kind of authority, but she doesn’t deserve whatever it is that's going on inside your twisted head.” soap gestured widely at ghost, implying he was all sorts of messed up. “i’d die protecting her. and if it means i’d have to die in your clutches, then so be it.”

ghost refrained from rolling his eyes and soap’s dramatics. though, he did admire soap’s loyalty. 

shifting the conversation away from you, ghost debriefed soap on prep for the coming mission, letting him know— almost —everything planned. 

it was late when ghost spotted you. you didn’t see him as he stalked you around the bend of the hallway.

finally, you were alone. not linking arms with soap or laughing with gaz. you were alone as you walked through the halls of the barracks. if you had known ghost would have spotted you, you would have likely stayed in your room. but you had no idea the masked man was trailing behind you. 

ghost hadn't been planning on talking to you, irate by the way you’ve been ignoring him, but when he saw you, his feet moved on their own accord. the hall lights flickered, creating an ominous glow. he surmised you were heading back to the infirmary even though he knew your shift was already over. maybe you forgot something?

and then one of ghost’s steps was a tad too loud because you looked over your shoulder and he watched as your eyes widened momentarily. you scrunched up your nose and faced forward, your pace increasing. “are you following me?”

“this is my quarters jus’ as much as it is yours,” he grunted. 

you rolled your eyes. “well… it's plenty big enough. you could always go a different way.”

“still not talkin’ to me, then?”

you could sense him catching up and it made the hackles on your neck rise. “what’re you—”

“i know you’ve been ignoring me. don’t try t’lie your way outta this.”

you turned around and began to walk backward so you could face him when you spoke. “i’m not really in the mood to have this conversation right now.” you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“well, good thing i wasn’t askin’.”

your mouth parted in surprise at his bluntness. you quickly spun on your heels, not wanting the emotions you had been shoving down for the past week to come back up. if you could just avoid him a little longer, you’d be able to move on. if he would only just—

in your nerves, you reached a dead end of one of the many barren halls. you were going to turn and scurry past him, not even wanting to grab your bag you left in the infirmary any longer, you just wanted to get away from him. but before you had the chance, ghost’s arms were on either side of your head, hands flat against the wall, caging you into his chest. your back was to him and your only view was the blank drywall. the corner he had you trapped in was dark and you figured even if you did spin to face the beast behind you, you wouldn’t be able to make much of him out. you hated that a swirl of arousal filled your stomach remembering him being this close to you in that tiny closet he shoved the two of you into all those weeks ago. 

“ghost, i don’t wanna—”

“ simon ,” he said a little aggressively. 

you gulped, his words grazing the edge of your neck as he spoke. you were quiet as you waited for him to say more. “you sure you’re ready to go back out on location?” he asked, referring to the upcoming mission you were going to be a part of. 

“is that it? you’re worried i’m broken or some shit like that?” your words screamed irritation, but your voice sounded more hurt than angry. “that i don’t know my own limits and can’t decide when i’m good to be back? that i’ll slow you down? i told you i was cleared!” you knew you were inferring a lot from his one little sentence, but you wanted to be mad. to be angry at him. 

“i didn’t say that.”

“no. but it’s what you meant.”

you heard ghost sigh and his hands dropped down to his side. you felt the warmth of his chest still behind you so you didn’t dare move to look at him.

“i know what it’s like t’lose everyone you love,” he started. 

“what does that have to do with any—-?”

“would you jus’ shut up for one second n’ listen for once?” 

you swallowed hard and nodded your head. he let out a breath. he knew he had snapped at you, but this was difficult for him. he wanted to get this out before he second-guessed himself and let you walk away forever. 

“i lost my entire family to men a lot more evil than me. did everythin’ in my power to get revenge. so i know what it’s like to love and t’lose.”

“did it help?” you asked softly. “revenge?”

you could hear the tension in ghost’s words as he mumbled them behind you. the only reason he was able to answer this question was due to the fact that you were turned away from him. if you two had been looking into each other’s eyes… he didn’t think he’d have to ability to open up. “depends how ya look at it. that kind’a dedication to death—never stoppin’ till you feel blood on your hands—takes a toll on ya. i think it’s what made me so… unbearable. but the general doesn’t seem t’think so. made me a stronger soldier in shepherd’s eyes.”

you felt your breath waver as you listened. 

“i wouldn’t have jus’ killed for them, i woulda died. it was years ago now that i was captured on duty. was tortured. buried alive. locked up. abused.” simon cleared his throat. “think it made me unwillin’ to let people in , as you would word it. i don’t know if i could survive another loss like that, like when i lost my mother and brother. s’not a feelin’ i ever plan on livin’ through again.”

“simon…”

“and you, ” he said a bit more potently. “you have been messin’ everythin’ up. when you n’ laswell were taken… it felt like when i saw my brother and his wife dead on their living room floor. the only thing i saw was red. i woulda done anything t’get you back. i couldn’t let this happen again. i couldn’t fail the people i cared about again.”

it pained you to know that simon placed all the blame on anything bad happening to those around him on himself. “laswell, too?” you said, but more as a question. you were purposefully trying to avoid the romantic ideation behind his words.

“no,” he said immediately, without a second thought. “course i wanted her back. but it didn’t feel the same as the way i wanted you.”

i wanted you . those words made your chest tighten. 

“why are you telling me all this?” you finally asked after a lull. 

“i jus’ wanted you t’know that i don’t mean t’hurt you. that maybe i needa try harder. and that… i’m sorry.”

you felt a single tear escape and slide down your cheek. you took a moment to steady your breathing, trying to reel in all of simon’s words.

when you spun to face him, unsure of what you’d find in his expression, you gasped. he was gone. you didn’t even hear him as he took off down the hall with your back still to him. 

eventually, walking alone back to your room, you let the tears fall freely. you cried for simon’s past. for his losses. for your own losses. for the strange sense of love you felt radiating off of him as he told you he’d move the world just to get you back safely. for the stupid feelings you had brewing in your chest. for the way you couldn’t decide if you wanted him to wrap his arms around you or if you wanted to hold him as he told you more. 

simon felt like he couldn’t let someone else in. that he wouldn’t survive it. but you wouldn’t leave him if he did. and you needed to tell him that. you needed to show him that he might be a bit broken, lost from his path, but you’d help him find the light again, as cheesy as that sounded. you would show him how beautiful it was to love even after losing so much. that it was possible. he deserved to be loved. he deserved to be happy. he wasn’t some emotionless robot, no matter what the army thought of him. and you wanted to help him realize that. 

chapter 13 ➡

[luvzshy]

Could you please do a Billie fic when the reader stuffers with endometriosis

When It Hits

A/n: hi so forgive me if this isn't accurate but I didn't know what endometriosis was so, I did a little research abt it but if this is bad js lmk bb, mwuak.

It started as a nagging ache, like it always did. You knew where it was heading—each cramp tightening and twisting until it felt like a punch to the gut. Endometriosis had a way of creeping up on you, stealing days, sometimes even weeks, and today was shaping up to be one of the worst.

You lay in bed, knees drawn to your chest, trying to breathe through the waves of pain. The heating pad was doing little to help, and every small movement felt like someone was tearing into your insides. You didn’t even have the energy to grab your phone, though you knew Billie would be checking in soon.

She always knew when things were getting bad. It was almost like clockwork—your symptoms would flare up, and she’d find her way to you, somehow managing to turn the worst days into something bearable.

You heard the front door open quietly, followed by soft footsteps. Billie appeared in the doorway, her brown hair falling in waves around her face, eyes scanning the room before landing on you.

“Hey, how’re you holding up?” she asked, her voice quiet, like she didn’t want to disturb the fragile stillness in the air.

You let out a shaky breath, too tired to say much. “Not great.”

She sighed, a look of understanding crossing her face. She knew these days, had seen you like this before—curled up, drained, fighting against the pain that seemed relentless.

Billie came over and sat beside you on the bed. “Do you need anything? Water? Pills?”

You shook your head. “I’ve already taken something. It’s just… gonna take a while.”

Billie nodded, knowing when not to push. She sat with you in silence for a few minutes before quietly getting up, disappearing into the kitchen, and coming back with a glass of water anyway. She placed it on the nightstand, always thinking ahead in case you needed it later.

After a moment, she stretched out beside you, careful not to disturb the heating pad. “Just tell me if you need me to shut up, okay?”

You managed a small smile. “Okay.”

She started talking softly about random things—the music she was working on, some dumb thing her brother Finneas did the other day. The sound of her voice was soothing, a distraction from the constant pounding in your abdomen. She wasn’t trying to fix it—she knew she couldn’t—but she was here, making it a little less lonely.

When another wave of pain hit, you winced, and Billie instantly reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. She didn’t say anything, just stayed there with you, her quiet presence grounding you.

“It’s okay to feel like crap,” she said softly after a while. “You don’t have to pretend it’s not bad.”

You nodded, too exhausted to put up the usual brave front. “It just… it sucks.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But you’re allowed to feel that way.”

Billie’s hand stayed in yours, her thumb tracing small circles over your skin. The pain wasn’t going anywhere, but somehow, it felt a little easier knowing she wasn’t going anywhere either.

[zepskies]

Hey! I was wondering if the requests are still open? I’m so obsessed with BMD💗✨ I was wonder how Ben would react to his gf having cramps during her moon cycle✨

Tysm for sharing these awesome stories with us hun🫂💗✨Hope you’re healthy and happy💃🏻❤️

Hey there!

I'm so glad you love BMD. 🥰 I’m slowly but surely working through my inbox of requests! And because I’m currently on my “moon cycle” as I’m writing this [last week. I was suffering for four days], I just had to do this prompt. So thank you for it, lovely!

And you're so very welcome. It's my pleasure. I hope you're healthy and happy as well!! ❤️❤️

AN: This one is set in the Break Me Down-verse, but can be read as a stand-alone. Considering where we're going next in "Strong as Blood," I thought it'd be good to release this first lol.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Word Count: 2,700 Tags/Warnings: Period talk, of course. Hurt/comfort, fluff, grumpy Ben.

Imagine: How Ben reacts to his girlfriend having cramps during her period.

You really were going to die this time.

The thought was both a conviction and a deranged mantra as you stood hunched over the bathroom sink. Nausea and pain warred for dominance as you pressed a clammy hand over your forehead.

Jesus Christ, end me please. I beg of you.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend was in the bedroom getting ready for work. Both you and Ben worked at Supe Affairs now, with Butcher and the rest of the team.

You were one of the top agents in the Surveillance department, while Ben was considered a “contractor,” catching rogue supes and dealing with the remnants of Vought.

He was just about to undress from his shirt and sweatpants and start getting his supe suit on, when he heard the toilet flush in the bathroom…for the third time now. He realized then just how long you’d been in there.

He went over and knocked on the closed door.

“Hey, you planning on going to work today?” he said, with a teasing note to his voice. “Or making breakfast, for that matter?”

“Not now, Ben,” you replied, barely stifling a groan.

A frown tugged at his lips. “What’s wrong?”

“Debating if I’m gonna start my day by throwing up last night’s pot roast,” you replied sourly.

Ben’s brows crunched when he heard the strain in your voice. But at the same time, he couldn’t help smiling.

“What, are you pregnant?” he asked.

He heard your dry huff from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Most definitely not,” you said. “But at this point, I’d much rather be knocked up.”

Ben didn’t like the sound of that. He twisted the doorknob and let himself in, just to see his girlfriend locked up with pain. He read the misery written across your face. You were still in your pajamas (one of his old shirts that hung almost to your knees).

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he repeated gruffly. He rested a heavy hand on your back, between your shoulders. You let out a breath.

“Move that hand lower?” you requested. “My period came early this month. Hit me out of nowhere with a vengeance.”

His brows crunched a bit, but he obliged you, moving to your lower back. His hand was warm, as usual, and the weight of it was a small relief as he rubbed back and forth into your aching muscles.

You let out a deep breath and briefly closed your eyes. Finally, the nausea was starting to pass. And if you dawdled any longer, you were going to be late for work.

“Okay,” you breathed. “I need to get ready.”

You tried to straighten up, even though what felt like your entire lower body protested.

“You can barely move,” Ben said. “How’re you gonna work like that?”

“The way all women have managed to do for centuries,” you tartly pointed out. “With a buttload of painkillers and a heating pad under my desk…speaking of, where is that thing?”

You moved past him to look for said object. You knew you put it somewhere…

Ah! You found it in the top drawer of your nightstand. You plugged it in just to make sure it was working, but to your frowning suspicion, it didn’t turn on.

“Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me,” you said. You pressed the “on” button several times, but it didn’t light up. You touched the fluffy heating pad on both sides, but it was still cold. “Damn it. Don’t tell me this thing’s broken!”

You were about ready to tear the thing apart with your bare hands, when a sudden cramp spasmed in your lower belly. You inhaled sharply and held a hand there with a wince. Your back bent forward on reflex, and you grabbed onto the nightstand to steady yourself.

“All right,” Ben said. He took the defunct heating pad out of your hand and guided you to sit down on the edge of the bed. He went over to his side to grab his cell phone where it sat on his nightstand.

When you twisted to see what he was up to, you raised a suspicious brow. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not going to work,” he said. His tone was matter of fact, and your brows rose even higher.

“What? Ben—”

He ignored you when whoever he was calling finally answered the phone.

“Yes?” came Grace Mallory’s steady, but slightly incredulous voice. Ben never called her, nor did he want to. But he didn’t have your manager’s number and didn’t feel like scrolling through your phone to find it.

“She’s not coming in today,” Ben said, without preamble.

"Ben," you tried. Again, he ignored you.

In his ear, Grace spoke your name, both a question and a clarification.

“Yeah, she’s sick. Get someone else to fill in,” he said.

Grace sighed. “…All right, but just so you know—”  

Ben hung up the phone before she could finish. He then tossed it onto the bed. You shot him a wry, questioning look.

“What did she say?” you asked.

“It’s fine. You’ve got the day off,” he said. “Just relax.”

You sighed. Going above your manager to call Grace wasn’t the protocol for taking PTO in the slightest, but you couldn’t help but smile.

You beckoned him over with a hand. "Come 'ere."

A smirk tugging at his lips, Ben came back around to your side of the bed. You pulled him down by his shirt until he sat next to you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck in a hug. Maybe it was a small thing, but sometimes your boyfriend surprised you with the ways he showed that he cared.

“Thanks, baby,” you said softly. You carded your fingers through his hair, rested them at the back of his neck.

“Mhmm,” Ben nodded, rubbing your back again. “I gotta get going.”

“If you must,” you sighed. You pulled away enough to see his face, and something occurred to you. “Oh, can you get me some more feminine pads on the way home? And some Midol, and a new heating pad?”

Ben raised a brow at you. This was where he drew the line. He wasn’t about to be caught dead browsing through pads and tampons in some pharmacy aisle. God for-fucking-bid, some kid would be there with a camera phone. He’d learned about the internet, and it was worse than the tabloids used to be.

But you read the pullback in his face. You implored him with your eyes, and your gentle fingers in his hair.

“Please?” you asked. “I’d do it for you.”

Ben’s frown deepened.

“I’m not the one with the…” He gestured at you vaguely. “Monthly problem.”

You grinned a little. The way he reluctantly phrased it amused you. Despite his deplorable sense of humor, and often vulgar language, not to mention his blatant love of pussy, you supposed his fragile male disposition wouldn’t allow him to say the words.

Period.

Menstrual cycle.

Bleeding from the vagina.

“Exactly,” you countered, and you leaned up to once again snuggle your face into his neck. “Please, baby. You don’t know how much it hurts right now. You really want me to go to the store like this?”

Ben held you back with a terse sigh. You were somehow ready to go to work a minute ago, yet you couldn’t drive around the corner to the drug store?

“Fine,” he groused. His voice was nearly a growl, but you still smiled behind his back. You laid small, sweet kisses into his neck. When you leaned back, you pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

“Thank you,” you said between kisses. Ben just shook his head when you were done bribing him with affection.

“Yeah,” he dully replied. The things I fucking do for you, said his tone.

He finally withdrew from you to continue getting dressed, leaving you to crawl back under the covers and try to find a comfortable angle to lay down. You used all the pillows on the bed, even dragging his toward you. That one you rested your head on, as it still smelled like him.

Ben watched you settle in out of the corner of his eye, like a cat curling up in her bed. A smile tugged at his lips when you sighed in relief and turned on the TV.

He didn’t see so much pain in your features anymore. You seemed in a better mood, relaxed as you held his pillow like an anchor.

So that’s how he left you. However, it wasn’t until he got to the Supe Affairs building that he saw your text pop up on his phone:

Here’s a picture of the pads I like. If you don’t see them, call me and I’ll help you. And don’t forget the heating pad! 😘

He rolled his eyes in annoyance.

By the time he got home that evening with takeout and a plastic bag (filled with the things you'd asked for), he spotted an empty cup of yogurt in the kitchen.

It meant you’d gotten out of bed at some point, at least. He set down the takeout bags on the kitchen counter and made his way up the stairs.

He found you in the same place he left you: in bed, in your pajamas. And you were crying while watching a movie.

Ben frowned. He stood in the doorway in his supe suit with the pharmacy bag.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. You looked up and finally noticed him.

“Oh, hey.” You paused the movie. “I’m okay. It’s just…Marley & Me.”

“What?”

“It’s this true story about a dog…just, don’t ask. It’s ridiculously sad,” you sniffed and wiped your eyes.

He raised a brow at you.

“Sure it’s not just your uh…situation, making you all weepy?” he asked.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You did not just say that.”

Was he really calling you hormonal right now?  

His lips pursed, but he held up the bag.

“Before you start blowing your top, I got your female shit.” He ventured into the bedroom and laid the bag in your lap.

Giving him some annoyed side-eye, you peered into the bag. You nodded in approval at the correct brand and size of the pads you wanted, and a new pack of Midol. You then had to smile, as he even got you a couple of Twix bars. Your favorite chocolate covered candy.

“Admit it, I did good,” Ben said with a smirk. Your side-eye was begrudgingly amused this time.

“Color me surprised,” you replied, but you still treated him with a genuine smile. “Thanks, baby. This is perfect…”

Though you realized something was missing. Ben’s smirk started to fade as he caught on.

“Wait.” You sorted through the bag. “Where’s the heating pad?”

Fuck, Ben thought. He forgot.

His expression slackened, making you sigh in disappointment.

“Okay, it’s fine,” you said, ripping open the box of Midol. This would have to be enough to relieve your pain (but it never was). Even now, your cramps were starting back up again.

Ben nodded in response. You were no longer looking at him though.

He let out a sigh. Didn’t he get credit for fucking trying here?

Without another word, he started unzipping his supe suit and disappeared into the bathroom for a shower.

By the time he returned, you were nearly in full fetal position. The Midol had only put a dent in your pain. The First Wives Club movie from the '90s was playing on the TV, but not even that could make you laugh, let alone relax right now.

You were truly miserable, and Ben saw it as he got dressed in a clean pair of sweatpants and a shirt.

“Hey, you hungry?” he asked. He wasn’t sure about the last time you’d eaten anything.

You paused the movie and moved your head enough to meet his eyes.

“Not really,” you admitted. “You go ahead and eat.”

Oh, he was starving. After the day he’d had, rounding up another telekinetic that tried to trash Midtown to evade capture, Ben could go for about five burgers. But there was a part of him that…didn’t feel right, leaving you like this.

Still, he needed to eat. He went downstairs and grabbed his meatball sub out of the takeout bag. He also took your sandwich along too, just in case the sight of food managed to make you hungry. He brought it all upstairs and sat next to you in bed. Though he was also kind of behind you, the way you were curled up.

You'd felt when his body dipped on his side of the bed. His presence both soothed and annoyed you. The former, because you did love your man. The latter, because he forgot the most important thing you'd reminded him not to forget.

You reached back blindly, eventually finding his hand that wasn't occupied with holding his sandwich. You placed that hand on your lower back.

"Massage, please," you grunted into your pillow. (Well, his pillow, but semantics.)

He sighed through his nose and a mouthful of meatball.

"I'm eating," he replied.

"What, you can't multitask?" you quipped.

Ben's gaze hardened with annoyance at the back of your head.

Still, he found himself reaching over and rubbing across your lower back. He applied gentle, but firm pressure with the heel of his hand. You sighed in appreciation.

“Thanks,” you murmured. Ben nodded and continued to polish off his sub while watching the movie. He usually wasn’t into chick flicks, but Bette Midler was hilarious, and Goldie Hawn was hot as fuck.

“I got you turkey and provolone,” he said. You nodded.

“Thanks. I’m still not hungry though.”

“Are you nauseous?”

“No…just in pain.”

Ben frowned…until he got an idea. He crumpled up his trash and tossed it onto the nightstand for now, along with brushing off the crumbs from his chest. He grabbed a couple of your pillows and propped them up behind him, against the headboard.

You shot him an annoyed look. “Hey!”

“You’re like a little dragon with her hoard a’ gold,” he remarked, smirking. Before you could start getting all huffy, he reached for your arm. “Come ‘ere.”

“What?”

“For once, just do what I'm telling you," he said. His lips twitched at your narrowing eyes. "I’ve got an idea."

With a loud sigh, you reluctantly (and slowly) uncurled and turned towards him. Ben laid back against the headboard, and he guided you to lay on top of him. You often complained that his skin was too hot at night for summer. Sometimes you woke up sweating.

It was a result of the power that emanated from his chest. Ben couldn’t exactly control the heat; at least, not when he was sleeping. But he was sure you were going to appreciate it more when winter came.

Not to mention, right now.

He positioned you just right, with your knee curling around his hip and your head resting against his chest. His large hand once again soothed against your lower back, underneath your shirt, and his fingers massaged into your skin.

You smiled as you realized what he was doing. You felt the warmth emanating from his body as it seeped into yours. Along with his calming touch, it slowly managed to relieve your pain.

After a few minutes, you let out a deep sigh and pressed a soft kiss to his chest, before you went back to resting on him fully. You couldn’t see it, but Ben smiled.

“Better?” he asked.

You closed your eyes with a soft smile. “Yeah. My new heating pad’s working wonders.”

Ben huffed a bit at that.

Just then, your stomach growled fiercely. Your eyes popped open.

You met your boyfriend's wry look, biting your lip. He smirked and reached down into the bag that still laid beside the bed. He retrieved your foil-wrapped sandwich and handed to you. You took it and happily began breaking through the foil.

Ben looked down at you, both fond and resigned. You clearly had no intention of getting off him. Which meant you were about to try and use him like some kind of makeshift man table.

You eventually took a bite of your sandwich, your eyes lighting up as you hummed in appreciation. You glanced up at his raised brow with a happy little smile.

“So good!” you said, still with your mouth full.

Ben restrained the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he thumbed at a bit of crumb on the corner of your mouth.

“Just don’t get mustard on my shirt,” he said.

AN: Lol I hope you liked this! I had fun with it, even though I don't have a body heater for my cramps. 😭

(It's fine. I bought a new heating pad online. ❤️‍🔥)

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[nurse-floyd]

The Weight of Living

Daniel Ricciardo x reader

Warnings: mentions of body dysmorphia, ED’s (not overly descriptive. Avoid if you’re suffering from these issues and you’re always welcome to reach out to me if you need help with these issues.

You stood in front of the mirror in your hotel room, adjusting your outfit for probably the hundredth time that morning. Grand Prixs were always a glamorous affair; the paddock was always crowded with celebrities, models, and the other WAGs. The familiar feeling of anxiety washed over you as you turned to the side and further inspected your outfit.

“Hey, are you ready?” your boyfriend Daniel’s voice called out as he appeared in the doorway. His smile was bright, as always, but it faltered slightly as he took in your expression and the way you were examining yourself in the mirror. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Just trying to look presentable. I guess this is as good as it's gonna get.”

He walked to your side, his arms wrapping around you and his head coming to rest on your shoulder. “You look gorgeous, as always,” he emphasized with a kiss to your cheek.

You leaned back into his embrace. “Thanks, Danny.”

As you walked through the paddock hand in hand with Danny, you couldn’t help but feel out of place. The other WAGs and celebrities looked so effortlessly perfect, not a hair out of place, their clothes fitting just right and their makeup flawless. You just couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t compare.

You had been trying so hard since these feelings started to arise, skipping meals and spending more time in the gym in the hopes of losing a few pounds here and there to try and fit in among them. All it did was make you feel weaker and more self-conscious. Danny had noticed; he always encouraged you to eat with him, knowing the signs too well himself, but he also trusted you to come to him when you needed and when you were ready.

Danny, always attuned to your emotions, noticed your change in demeanor as you looked around, seeing photographers and the other guests in the paddock. He squeezed your hand a little tighter in support. “You look gorgeous,” as if he read your mind, he leaned over and whispered in your ear.

When the pair of you finally managed to get to the VCARB motorhome, you were left on your own as he was in and out of briefings and media. You hung around and talked to a few friends and RB employees, but mostly kept to yourself.

“You okay, sweetheart?” you heard Danny say as he came over to your side, breaking you from your thoughts. He had just finished up with an interview and wanted to spend any free moment he had with you.

“Yeah, just thinking,” you replied.

“Let’s get you something to eat before free practice. I know you skipped breakfast this morning.”

You hesitated, but nodded. As you made your way towards the catering area of the motorhome, you couldn’t shake the feeling that people were looking at you as you loaded up a few items on your plate. Judging. Criticizing your food choices. The anxiety was driving you crazy. In the end, you ended up with a small plate of some fruit, which you mostly pushed around with your fork.

A few hours later, free practice was in full swing, and you found yourself struggling to stay upright as you watched from the paddock. The noise, the stress, the lack of proper food—it was all becoming too much for your body to handle. Your vision blurred, and you felt yourself sway on the spot. The last thing you saw before your vision began to gray was the blur of cars as they zoomed past the screen.

When you came to, you were lying on the plush couch in what you recognized as Danny’s driver's room.

“Hey,” he said softly as he brushed a strand of hair back from your forehead, noticing your eyes fluttering open. “How’re you feeling? You scared the hell out of me.”

You could see the worry etched on his face as he knelt on the floor beside you. As you tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness had you closing your eyes again as you felt Danny guide you back against the plush sofa.

“I’m okay. Just a bit overwhelmed, I guess.”

You knew he wasn’t buying it, though. He gave you a tight-lipped smile and a knowing look. “Sweetheart, I know something’s going on. I wanted to wait for you to come to me and tell me, but now we need to have a serious talk.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Shh, it's okay,” he reassured you as he pulled you into a gentle hug. “I’m not mad, just worried.”

You nodded, knowing he was right. After a moment, he helped you sit up, his hands never leaving yours as his spare hand plumped up a few pillows for you to lean against.

“What’s going on, love?” he asked gently. “You’ve been different lately. Skipping meals, pushing yourself too hard...”

“I just... I don’t feel like I belong here,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I look at the other WAGs and I feel... inadequate. Like I’m not good enough.”

Danny’s eyes softened with understanding. “Your weight or how you look doesn’t define your worth. You are so much more than that, and I love you for who you are, not what you look like.”

“I just want to fit in,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks.

He wiped them away with his thumb, his touch tender and comforting. “You don’t have to change yourself to fit in. You’re perfect as you are. And if you ever need help or support, I’m here for you. Always.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Thank you, Danny. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiled, his eyes shining with love. “You don’t have to find out, because I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in weeks.

Danny kissed your forehead, then stood up, offering you his hand. “Now, how about we get you something proper to eat and take it easy for the rest of the day?”

You nodded, taking his hand and standing up. As you walked out of the room, you felt a renewed sense of strength, knowing that with Danny by your side, you could face anything.

[crowleysgirl67]

Rescuing Romance

Author: @crowleysgirl67

Word Count: 661

Parings/Characters: Reader, Bobby, Buck, Hen, Chim, Maddie, 

Warnings: show warnings, broken bones, 

A/N: Thanks for reading!  

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”  

“I need fire and rescue and a couple of ambulances to 1515 Vista view court the medical tower. I’m currently hanging upside down by my leg on the twelve floor stairwell.”

“Ok ma’am can you tell me your name?”   

“It’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I’m a doctor, we had a patient have a psychotic break. Tried to throw me over the railing. I managed to wedge my leg in the bars. Definitely broke it but at least I'm not dead yet.”

“Ok (Y/N), I’m Maddie. Helps on the way. Where is the patient now?”

“I gave him a sedative right as he got me over the railing. I cant see him exactly but I’m pretty sure he was by the stairs when the sedative took effect. He might be on the landing on the floor below.”

“Alright. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so. I’m sure I’ll find out when the adrenaline stops.” 

“They’re arriving on scene now.”

Maddie stayed on the line with you until they arrived.

“LAFD; How’re you doin ma’am?” 

“Oh ya know, hanging in there.” you heard one of them fail to stifle a laugh “I’m Dr. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“(Y/N) is it? I’m Bobby, we’re gonna get you out of there.”

“Cool, I’ve been here probably 20 minutes. I feel like a damn bat.”

Another poorly disguised snicker happens above you as Bobby, who you assume is their Captain, gives orders. Soon enough you’re being carefully hauled up and attended to.  

“How’re you doin?” the lovely lady who introduced herself as Hen asked.

“Eh, been better. Got a bit of a headache and my legs killin me. Which is about to get worse ain’t it?” you studied their faces.

“Yeah, sorry we’ve got to set this to be able to splint it properly.” the other one, Chim looked at you apologetically.  

“We can give you something for the pain.” Hen offers.

You shake your head, “No. I don’t take narcotics unless absolutely necessary.”

“So you’re just gonna do this, no pain meds?” the young one, Bobby called him Buck, asks incredulously.   

“Yup” you laid back as Hen stabilized your hips and Chim braced to put your leg back into place.

“Ready? We’ll do this on three.” Chim started.

You nod, “Let’s do it.” you took a deep breath.

Chim pulled on your leg and you ground your nails into the palm of your hand as you released a hiss of air. It hurt like a bitch. They splinted your leg as Buck looked at you wide eyed.

“Say what ya gotta say.” you looked up at him as you relaxed your hand.

“We just set your leg! No pain meds and you didn’t even make a sound!” he stared at you like you had two heads.  

You let out a weak chuckle, “Not my first rodeo.”

They loaded you onto the stretcher while Buck hovered asking all sorts of questions.

“Buck.” Bobby started. “Leave her alone and help with this gear.”

“Right uh sorry Cap.” he grimaced and began to gather gear to take down. 

 “I’m sorry, he can be a little enthusiastic.” Bobby addressed you.

“He’s alright, I don't mind. How's my patient?” 

“He’ll be fine, possible concussion but we’ve already handed him off to the ER downstairs.”

You nodded, “Well thank you for the rescue Captain I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded. He looked like he wanted to say more but didn’t want to intrude. 

You pulled a card from your pocket and scribbled your number on it before handing it to him, “Give me a call if you want to talk. You look like you do, and we both know you don’t have time while on duty.”

He took the card looking bewildered as you were wheeled away. He looked down at it before stuffing it in his pocket. He did have questions, maybe he’d give you a call after shift. 

[dark-frosted-heart]

Ghost House Report - Roger Barel (premium end)

This event came out back in the start of July. This story event happened before Roger’s route, so Kate and Roger aren’t in a relationship.

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this.

Mansion owner: I won’t let you!

A frenzied black mist swirled around me.

Kate: —?!

Roger: Kate!

Kate: Gah…cough…

The black mist entered my mouth and I found it difficult to breathe.

My body slowly grew weak and I lost my grip on the sack.

Roger: Stop it! She’s not the one you want!

Roger let go of Harrison and Jude, and reached toward me.

(Ro…ger…)

Roger: Hang in there!

He hugged me tight, but the mansion owner’s ghost had already completely entered me—

They began speaking through me.

Mansion owner's ghost: …Haaa, it’s not like I wanted this woman’s body. But she’s probably more useful.

(Ugh…so…uncomfortable…)

Mansion owner's ghost: Maybe it’s because she’s also normal, but she’s a good fit…I didn’t think I’d be able to control her so well. Besides…hehe, you’re holding this woman pretty close. And unlike those guys, she doesn’t seem to mind.

(D-don’t tell him that…!)

Roger: ‘Course she doesn’t. She’s my dog after all.

(You’re calling me your dog at a time like this…)

Mansion owner's ghost: How long are you going to keep bluffing for? Just let me possess you. Or else—

Roger: You planning on stopping the lil’ lady’s heart and killing her?

Mansion owner's ghost: Urk… …Now I don’t just want your body…I want your brain too. I’m familiar with killing people, but I’ve never done it like this. I refrained because I wasn’t used to this. But now—

Roger: —Shut your mouth already.

Mansion owner's ghost: Mnn?!

(!!)

Roger’s lips crashed into the mansion owner’s (mine).

(Huuhhh, w-wait, Roger…?!)

Roger forcefully sucked the ghost possessing me out.

Roger: Ngh…urk…

Mansion owner’s ghost: Gaahhh…Ahhh…

Harrison: O_O…There’s a limit to strength.

Jude: Tch, the hell ya makin’ me watch?

Without even realizing it, my body felt relief—

After parting from me, Roger licked his lips and flashed me a relaxed smile.

Roger: Ha, thanks for that, lil’ lady. How’re you feeling?

(...No way! What just happened?!)

(Ummm, in any case, he saved me…right?)

(With mouth to mouth)

The memory of it made my face grow warm.

Kate: …Thank you.

I managed to thank him even though my lips were numb.

Roger: Ah, looks like you can talk now, good. Your complexion’s coming back.

Roger was smiling like usual.

Kate: U-um, are you feeling okay…? Since you sucked the ghost in…?

Roger: Yeah, was planning on taking the ghost in anyway ‘til we had a plan.

Did it in the best way possible.

My eyes came to a stop at his grin and I felt my cheeks heat up again.

Roger: Don’t worry. They said they wanted to possess me. But things didn’t work out the way they wanted it to, so they’re feeling frustrated.

It seemed like even ghosts were no match against Roger’s steel-like body and mind.

Harrison: Glad you’re safe, Kate.

(Wah! They saw!)

Kate: Ummm…

Harrison: It’s like CPR. Don’t worry about it.

Jude: Don’t care. Anyway, whatcha gonna do with that in yer belly?

Jude spat out in disgust as he looked at Roger’s abdomen.

Roger: Thanks to Kate’s actions, I was planning on sending them to the other side. Their anchor…I’m thinking it’s a good idea to get rid of what’s in the sack.

As he said that, he picked up the sack that I had dropped, along with its notes and letters.

Roger: The stuff inside…Ugh?!

Kate: Roger?!

Roger acted strangely, covering his mouth and gasping—

Mansion owner’s ghost: …Don’t touch…my…treasure…

(That’s not Roger’s voice!)

Roger: Ku…they’re talking through my stomach…

Mansion owner’s ghost: I…will get special abilities…and this man’s meat sack…will be mine… And then…with my treasure…in that bag of materials…I’ll become stronger…

Jude: Persistent one aintcha? 

Roger: I need to check this letter… Looks like I can’t keep them in for much longer…Ngh…

Mansion owner’s voice: Haha! Give me your body and I’ll show you all you want…! Be mine…

Roger: Haaa, haha, sounds tempting. But I won’t be myself…so unfortunately, I can’t give you my body. But…your “treasure’s” yours…so I’ll give it back.

After saying that, Roger held the sack containing the “treasure” to his mouth.

Roger: —Haaaa…..

Jude and Harrison: O_O!!

The sack blew up like a balloon.

Kate: Are you trapping the ghost in the bag…?!

Roger: —Haa! Haaaa, haaaa.

Roger was breathing heavily as he tied the bag up shut.

Kate: Roger! Are you okay?

Roger: Yeah, I’m fine. I expelled the whole ghost out.

The ghost swirled around inside the bag.

Mansion owner’s ghost: Aaahhh! Aaaahhh! I’m back with my treasure at last! As long as I have this research material, I’ll be able to get special abilities!

Jude: They’re enjoyin’ themself.

Harrison: It’s some form of happiness. Since they’re now trapped with their treasure.

Roger: Right, onto the final step.

--

We placed the sack with the ghost in a kidney dish in the clinic.

We then lit the bag with a match borrowed from Jude and it burst into flames.

Mansion owner’s ghost: Waaahhhhh! What’s happening!

Roger: Just pass on to the other side quietly. —With your precious “treasure”.

Mansion owner’s ghost: Ahhhhh…it’s turning to ash…

In the crackling flames, the mansion owner’s ghost desperately tried to protect the letters and notes.

Kate: Roger, was it okay to burn them? I think those letters contained research done here.

Roger: I did want those letters and thought it was a waste to burn them. However, it’s unethical research—lives were taken for it. So it’s better to get rid of it with the ghost.

Roger stared down at the mansion owner’s ghost panicking amidst the flames.

Roger: …Hey, owner. Now you don’t have to worry about your treasure getting stolen. Pass on without any regrets.

Mansion owner’s ghost: …ugh…! Yeah…I’ll…be with my treasure…forever… In the next life…I’ll have special abilities too…

Kate: …

The flames gradually died down until it went out, leaving only ashes behind—

But even that was blown away by a gust of wind that came from nowhere and it vanished like smoke.

As night fell, sobs could no longer be heard from this mansion.

Roger: The souls sacrified too— Maybe they’ll let go of their grudge against the mansion’s owner and pass on.

Kate: …I hope so

(I hope that those dragged into the mansion owner’s greed…rest in peace)

Through our investigation, we suspected that this mansion had secretly conducted research on the cursed and that it was highly unlikely to be a base for crime.

--

Kate: Roger, why am I the only one that needs to be examined? Didn’t Lord Elbert and Alfons get possessed too? Not to mention the fact that you sucked the ghost in…

Roger: Those guys aren’t hurt so I had them rest. I’m fine too. As for you…I think they were messing around with your body. …Around here.

I felt a shock when he touched where my heart was.

Kate: And you touch me there right after saying that…!

I grabbed his wrist with my hands, but he easily held my hands with his other hand.

Roger: Your heartbeat’s pretty loud.

Kate: Of course it would be! Since you suddenly…

Roger: Yeah, you’re fine…That’s a relief.

I couldn’t see his face, but I heard a sigh of relief.

(...Was he really worried about me?)

Kate: Um…Thank you so much for saving me.

When I relaxed against him, he looked at my face.

Roger: …Since I saved you, I should get a reward. A kiss should do.

(!)

Roger: That kiss back then wasn’t hot, so let’s try again.

Kate: Y-you want a kiss as a reward?

Roger: You can give me more than a kiss?

There seemed to be some sort of evil plan behind those amber eyes as they stared at me, as if to test me.

(It’s like he’s trying to seduce me)

(But I was saved thanks to Roger…)

(I should thank him properly)

Kate: …Okay.

I felt embarrassed, but I prepared myself. I placed my hands on Roger’s shoulders and faced him.

Kate: …Mn

I gave him a peck on the lips and pulled away—

Roger: …You can’t really call that a kiss.

Kate: Ugh, but I…Mnnn!

He cut me off by sealing my lips with his and slipped his tongue in.

Earlier, he was sucking something out of me. This time, he was the one pushing in.

Kate: Mnnn…Haa…

When I tried to pull away, he entangled his tongue with mine and then freely explored my mouth.

Roger: …You got possessed by a ghost. So I’m gonna cleanse you.

[adhd-coyote]

Why hello there!!! My dear partner in kissing prompts! Could I ask for Fox/Thorn with 18 - a kiss while laughing please??? ❤️🤍

Hehe yes indeed you may ask!! These two were an absolute delight to write, I love them so much

-

“You have freckles,” Thorn noted, idly tracing their thumb along the scar that ran down Fox’s jaw. This wasn’t the first time they’d stared at Fox’s face, and it certainly wasn’t the first time they’d noticed Fox’s freckles, but right now, snuggled up warm and safe in their bunk with plenty of time to kill, an idea popped into Thorn’s head.

“Really?” Fox tugged Thorn’s hand closer to nuzzle their palm. Despite the softness of the gesture, his voice was dripping with sarcasm when he continued, “I never noticed.”

Thorn snorted, rolling their eyes, untucked themself from Fox’s side to climb on top of him, and tangled their legs to prevent Fox from escaping. Fox raised an eyebrow, unamused but curious. “What are you doing, Thorn?”

“Gonna count ‘em.”

Fox’s second eyebrow joined the first. “You’re going to count my freckles?”

“Yep.” Thorn popped the ‘p’ and settled down, arms framing Fox’s face. “Needed to make sure I had a good angle.”

“A good angle.” There was that amused smirk that made Thorn’s heart flutter in their chest. A sharp, subtle curl of lips, like the knives Fox kept up his sleeve. “Cyare, you can barely even keep track of your hair products, how’re you gonna manage to keep count my freckles?”

“Hey! I keep track of my hair products just fine, thank you very much,” Thorn sniffed indignantly. “Now hold still so I can see.”

Fox obliged, exasperated but willing to indulge them, as always. Thorn grinned and leaned forward to nuzzle, overcome with affection, before pulling back enough to see.

“One,” they pressed a kiss to a freckle on Fox’s nose, “two,” under his eye, “three,” the center of his cheek, “four,” the corner of his mouth, “fi-”

“Are you going to kiss all of them?” Fox asked incredulously. Thorn groaned and bumped their foreheads together.

“Yes, of course I am! And don’t interrupt, otherwise I’m gonna have to start over.”

“Thought you said you weren’t gonna lose track.”

“Well I will if you distract me, Foxy. Now where was I?”

“You were on five,” Fox snickered, eyes sparkling with fond amusement. “Or maybe six? Or seven?”

Thorn’s nose wrinkled as they glared without heat. “You’re a menace. It was five.”

Fox grinned, canines flashing. “Was it? How sure are you about that, cyare? Are you absolutely positive?”

“You’re either stalling, or you’re trying to make me start over so you can get more kisses,” Thorn accused.

“Oh? Which one is it, then, hm?”

“I’m not answering that. Hush.” Thorn pressed a kiss to a freckle on the corner of Fox’s mouth. “One,” the crease in his brow, “two,” his jaw, “three-”

“So you did have to start over,” Fox cut them off again, eyes dancing with playful mischief.

“You know what? Fuck you.”

“But we already did that today, Thorn’ika.”

“You os’ika-”

Fox laughed. Clear, bright, and loud. It was a rare sound, what with the stress of their lives, and it sent sparks of warmth and love shooting through Thorn’s chest. They pressed forward into a proper kiss, drinking that sound in, craving more of it, and Fox responded in kind, until they were both breathless and panting and grinning like idiots.

“You missed.”

Thorn blinked. “Huh?”

“There aren’t any freckles on my mouth, Thorn’ika,” Fox explained, teasing. “You missed.”

“A menace,” Thorn declared again, rolling their eyes. “Now shut up and hold still. One-”

-

Kiss ask game