#if you open bust again I'll be back

[leggo-my-eggo-sum]

Many thanks to @bonepriests for doing a bust of Breekon!

[laserbobcat]

A WIP i'll never finish, i tried! I started this before march and will never finish it properly. I'm glad I had the energy to at least clean the last panels enough. I was trying a new style/process and it doesn't stick. Anyway, I'll just tell the rest of the story since I (probably) won't draw it, and maybe some of you like to read:

Nari turns into a god again, to his surprise. Turns out it's because the Lamb fucked up a new age reversing ritual they're trying out, and turned themselves into a baby. Too weak of a vessel, so the crown had to jump ships back to him. Narinder enjoys this IMMENSELY. Makes a dramatic evil laugh and give some kind of speech about how the Lamb is stupid and he's the boss now. He tells Aym and Baal to babysit the Lamb until they're old enough to be trained like they both were and "Maybe this time around they will learn obedience" and exits- also dramatically. The cultists start to panic, what the hell is that giant god, what do you mean it's Narinder are you kidding me? The tsundere Lamb's friend? The grumpy fisherman? Oh no what are we gonna do without the Lamb etc etc... Until Leshy laughs out loud and says "Just ignore him and wait a day or two, he's gonna get tired of bossing people around and miss his precious Lamb. He'll find a solution." Aym deadpan says five, Leshy says five days seems too long he'll cave in sooner than that, but Baal says "No we mean five minutes." And BAM the temple's door open again and Narinder is here yelling MORTALS I need you to remember EXACTLY the words they made you chant, I need it to reverse the ritual!

He quickly realized that this Lamb will not be HIS Lamb, HIS lamb is gone for good if he doesn't cook some good magic real quick. And that's the start of a period of time where Nari has to bust his ass trying to undo the Lamb's failed magic. I had bunch of stuff in mind, including: -Lambie being the worst and most insufferable baby ever. No one sleeps on their watch, and no one gets to be distracted for a second otherwise they start eating rocks. their yell is the loudest noise ever heard. The goat is a joke next to them. Everyone has the tired parent trait now. -Narinder smashing people to death when they're annoying and distracting him from his research. He adds their name to "the resurrection list" for the Lamb to deal with later. The followers somehow get used to it. -Morgan trying his best to keep Leshy away from his irritated brother, despite his intense need to annoy him at the worst time possible. -Narinder yelling "Fetch me my thinking Lamb!" and then squishing the baby between two fingers like a squeaky toy to help him focus (the baby enjoys that) -Saleos and Irene forcing a huge ass exhausted and irritable 19 feet god to take a rest, maybe go fishing to get some air. -Narinder accidentally hitting his head on the door frame of the temple. A lot. -Narinder reluctantly having to officiate the important rituals "I don't care about your damn crops but let's get this over with- NO we're not having an exhibitionist dance go back to work!" -Thena having to read most of the Lamb's writing for him because they write in cursive that is so pretty it's unreadable -Thena making him realize how much work the Lamb is doing everyday. Narinder keeps in mind that he will have to make him rest later. The end would be Narinder finally managing to reverse the ritual, and a butt naked, befuddled adult Lamb appearing on the floor of the temple. Narinder takes the crown off of his head and throws it at their face, and yells at them while changing back into his mortal form and stomping out of the temple: "You IDIOT baby god trying to CREATE new magics when you're not even able to master the old ones completely I CAN'T BELIEVE you would try something so stupid do you even realize how much of a pain in the ass it was to understand your weird logic and clean your mess I SWEAR if you ever do something like that I'll let you rot in whatever pit you dig for yourself AND DON'T YOU DARE SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THE RESURRECTION LIST-" And slams the door on his way out, leaving the lamb astounded.

Cut to Narinder getting back to his house in his tree, and flopping on his bed, exhausted. He massages his arms, visibly relieved to have them back to normal, without the pain. He sighs with a little smile, stretches, curls into a ball and falls asleep.

That's how the lamb finds him later when they carefully come to talk to him after hearing about all of what happened. Except the black cat loaf on the bed changed into a baby.

Rinse and repeat.

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ boxer!jungkook⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

boxer jk x neuro doctor oc

post fight vibes

meet cute

note: possibly a mini series but idk

after his home and the ring; jungkook's third home is the hospital.

yet, one thing he will never get used to are the bright lights. 

fuck. 

they’re always so fucking bright.

it doesn’t matter if he’s in for nearly busting his brain or if he’s just here for a casual IV drip—each time, the lights are insanely bright.

the hospital room is too white too. 

too sterile for someone like him.

his eyes flicker down to his knuckles. they’re split and bruised, resting against his stomach, rising and falling with each slow breath. his lip is cut, swollen at the corner, and when he rolls his shoulders back, he winces—just slightly—like he's trying not to show it.

suddenly, the doors burst open and his head turns towards it. 

you walk in. 

navy blue scrubs, white doctors coat, and your hair is tied high and back. 

it’s… love at first sight. 

your cheeks are so perfect. that’s the first thing he notices about you. they have this puff that makes him wonder if anyone has ever complimented you on them. next, are your lips. they’re perfectly shaped—so kissable. maybe he’s just that fucked in the head but everything about you looks so perfect. like your eyes are the exact size they need to be. you button nose where your glasses sit so cutely… 

god help him. 

maybe he got beat up a little too much this match. 

jungkook swallows drly as you approach him. you pull out the scans and show him on the monitor. you glance at them and then at him. for a moment, you’re silent and he doesn’t know if he should be saying anything. 

should he introduce himself? 

better yet, can you introduce yourself?

"you're concussed," you say simply.

jungkook blinks at you, like he was expecting more. 

"that bad?"

"you've had worse." you say it simply as you click on the monitor and pull out old scans from months ago. your eyes widen as you look through the ones from the past 3 years. pausing at one scan from 2019, you use your pen to gesture around the areas where he’s been concussed before. “this old one? probably your worst one.” 

he huffs out a laugh, shifting in his seat. 

"my brain is still here, though. couldn’t have been that bad, huh?"

you don’t humor the joke. 

"debatable."

his grin widens, even through the soreness. "harsh, doctor…”

“doctor ___.” 

“___,” he breathes. “that’s pretty.”

“doctor ___.” you correct.

“right,” jungkook folds. then, the moment shifts. he can’t help but blurt; “... you sure you're not just mad you had to sub in for my usual guy?"

"not mad," you say, flipping through his chart. "just not impressed."

he laughs again, low and raspy, like this whole thing is funny. like the fractures and bruising on his scans are nothing more than a bad grade on a test.

"aren't you too young to be a doctor?"

you glance at him, raising a brow. 

"aren't you too young to have this many head injuries?"

his smile lingers, but he doesn’t say anything for a beat like he's trying to come up with a clever response. like he's trying to read you.

"did you win?" you ask instead.

"huh?"

"your fight."

his grin flickers—surprise, maybe. or amusement. 

"yeah. of course."

you nod, flipping the chart closed. 

"is it worth it?"

he tilts his head, the movement slow. calculated. like he's trying to see if you're serious. truth be told, he can’t read you. not your tone or your facial expression. it intrigues him… how could someone be so warm and so cold at the same time? you’re lukewarm… but it’s refreshing. it’s scratches his fucked up brain somehow.

"i'll tell you," jungkook muses, "if you go out with me."

you scoff. 

"that's okay."

he waits.

"some things are worth asking about," you say, pushing your chair back. you stand up and lean over to check over his vitals. as you fix his IV, you squint as you notice his knuckles. for some reason, jungkook suddenly fights to urge to reach for you. his fingers twitch. you see it. you brush it off and say; "some things aren't worth the answer."

you don’t miss the way his lips part slightly, his brows lifting in surprise. 

you don’t stick around to see if he has a follow-up. you grab your clipboard and head towards the door. as you push the door open to leave, you bid him goodbye. 

"rest up, mr. jeon."

the next time jungkook is back, it's not you.

"dr. ___ isn’t in today?" jungkook asks, trying to sound… anything but how it came out.

namjoon doesn’t look up from his notes. 

“you met her?”

“yeah,” he breathes. “can’t get her out of my head ever since.”

namjoon chuckles as he takes out his slit lamp and examines jungkook’s eye movement. as jungkook’s eyes follow the light, nam joon continues;

"why’s that?”

“dunno,” jungkook confesses. 

namjoon can’t take jungkook seriously. he’s never been the type to care about girls since they’ve always come to him one way or another… but knowing you, he should’ve known jungkook would take interest. 

“miss her or something?" nam joon teases. “love at first concussion?”

“not my first concussion… and i was just wondering. shit, man.” jungkook shrugs, trying to move past it. suddenly, he’s embarrassed. 

namjoon hums, like he doesn’t believe him (because he doesn’t).

"she doesn't date patients," namjoon says, flipping a page and writing down notes from jungkook’s checkup. "definitely not ones with a brain like yours."

jungkook blinks. "is it that bad?"

namjoon grins. "she spends her days saving patients who get injured unwillingly. you? boxing? that's a choice. you're her least favorite kind of patient."

"but am i her type?"

namjoon laughs and shakes his head. 

"your brain is fucked up."

when jungkook’s checkup finishes, he says goodbye to namjoon and exits the room. 

then, like fate, he sees you in the hall when he's leaving. you're walking in the opposite direction, clipboard tucked against your hip, eyes scanning over charts.

jungkook doesn’t think. 

he moves.

jungkook catches up to you and taps your shoulder. as you turn your head to respond, he steps forward and in front of you instead. suddenly, you face him.

"you."

you blink up at him, unimpressed. "me."

"i'm not concussed anymore."

"i'm glad,” you smile at him softly before you lower your gaze back to your charts. “have a good day mr. jeon—"

"i won that match," he says, like it's important. like it means something.

you pause.

"i'm a good boxer," he continues, standing taller. "i don’t get injured that much. when you saw me last… i let the guy get in a few hits. whatever… it was for show, i swear to god… but if you go out with me, i promise to always win and never get a head injury ever again."

you stare at him.

he waits.

you exhale, shifting your clipboard to the other hand. then, before he can say anything else, your fingers push into his hair, ruffling it gently.

his breath hitches.

you drop your hand and step past him.

"i think you're still a little concussed," you murmur. 

“i’m not,” jungkook says, voice soft. “one chance.”

you tilt your head at him and for a moment, you really contemplate. his lip looks almost healed. his knuckles are only bruised now… for a moment, you want to give in. 

“do you ever lose?”

he scoffs. “no.”

you nod and begin to slip away. jungkook stands there confused at the growing distance. as you walk away, you tell him; 

“maybe you should learn how to.”

“why? so you can feel better about rejecting me?"

jungkook tilts his head, lips twitching. he lifts his foot to move to you but you shake your head at him. he stops his tracks. cutely, you mimic him and tilt your head too, feigning sympathy. 

"no, so you stop getting concussed."

he grins, sharp and easy. "i told you, i don't get injured that much."

"right… just enough to keep me employed."

his laughter comes quick, like he wasn't expecting that. 

"damn," he mutters, shaking his head. "you got a sharp tongue, doc."

you exhale through your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you’ve given him, and start toward the door. with one hand, you wave him off, like he’s not worth the breath it takes to keep talking.

but just before you step out, jungkook hears you murmur over your shoulder—low, teasing, like you’re indulging him for just a second longer.

"good thing you’re used to taking hits, jeon."

jungkook’s smile lingers long after you’ve disappeared down the hall. for a moment, he contemplates on running after you and continuing to annoy you… and then, for the nth time today… he thinks. 

he’ll be back. 

injured or not—he’s coming back just for you.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Coffee Crossfire

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You own a cafe in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes' territory. You occasionally let him hold meetings in the cafe after hours and things usually go well....but not this time.

Bucky looks around the disastrous mess around him. He's so fucked as he takes note of the shattered windows, bullet holes in the furniture and walls, broken tables and chairs.

You're not going to be happy with him at all.

Bucky looks at Sam and Steve, who've just finished getting rid of the bodies.

"She's gonna be pissed," Sam says looking at the mess.

"I know!" Bucky exclaims and runs a hand through his hair, "Fuck. Okay," he points at his two best friends, "Call up a clean up crew and construction crew. We need to get started on fixing this place up ASAP."

"Got it, boss," Sam says with a nod, pulling out his phone.

Steve approaches Bucky and claps him on the shoulder, "Start planning your funeral, Buck."

"Shut the fuck up, Steve." Bucky pulls out his phone and starts searching for places that are open late. He needs to find you some flowers.

_____________________

You're up late working on paperwork when you hear a knock at your door. You get up from your desk and peer into the peephole. You see Bucky holding a bouquet of flowers and you're immediately suspicious.

When you open the door, you see the flowers and the look on Bucky's face. You cross your arms over your chest and ask, “What did you do?”

He shrugs and responds, “Why do you assume I did something?”

“Because you got me flowers and you have a look on your face that says ‘I did something bad and you’re gonna be mad at me for it.’”

He gulps and confesses, “…the cafe got shot up.”

“WHAT?!” You look at him with wide eyes. You immediately grab your keys, slip on your shoes, and ready to head out, but Bucky stops you.

“I already have my guys cleaning it up and repairs will start tomorrow!"

You groan and grab the bouquet of flowers, whacking Bucky with them, “Unbelievable, Barnes! I can't believe you!”

“Sugar, I swear, I didn’t anticipate for the meeting to go that way!”

You grunt again, turning around and heading back into your apartment. Bucky follows you in and watches as you toss the flowers onto your kitchen counter, the petals falling off.

"Listen, I promise you, that the meeting was going well and then we were ambushed. They did a drive by. Romanoff and Maximoff were able to track them. Sam, Steve, and I handled the guys in the cafe."

"None of your people got hurt?"

Bucky shakes his head, "Thankfully, no."

"Good, I might kill you myself then," you look at him with a stern glare.

He holds his hands up, "Understandable. But I already have the guys working on cleaning the mess and fixing it up. Might take a few weeks depending on the damage."

"Take me there."

"Sugar-"

"Take. Me. There. Now."

Bucky gulps, "Alright." Bucky leads you out of your apartment and to his car. The ride to your cafe is filled with silence. Bucky knows how much he fucked up.

____________________

Your heart drops when you see the shattered windows and busted door. Sam, Steve, and several of Bucky's men are sweeping up the glass, surveying the mess.

Bucky can't stand the sad look on your face, "Sugar, I-"

"Don't."

You take a look around, any man in your way immediately moves to the side. Your life's work was ruined and all because you decided to set shop in Bucky's territory.

You hold back tears and look at Bucky, "You're going to handle it?"

"All of it. You just let me know what you want and need and I'll pay for it."

"Okay...and, maybe don't have anymore meetings here from now on."

"I understand. No matter what, your cafe will still be under my protection."

"Okay. Can you take me home now?"

"Of course."

The ride back was in silence once more. It drove Bucky crazy because he loved hearing you talk and joke with him. Knowing that he was the reason for your silence absolutely breaks his heart. After dropping you off, he definitely needs to pay the guys who did this a visit.

______________________

You go to the cafe the next morning and see a group of people already working on fixing the windows and doors.

You're also surprised to see Bucky there, very dressed down in a tshirt and jeans.

"Bucky?"

"Oh, hey," he hands you a paper, "Here's a list of things that need repairs or replacements. Just send me the links to any furniture and decor you want."

You take notice of his wrapped knuckles. You immediately grab his hands and look at him, "These weren't like this when I saw you last night."

"Had to give some people a talking to."

"YOU RUINED MY GIRL'S CAFE! NOW TELL ME WHO YOU WORK FOR!"

"Hm. Did they suffer?" you look at him with curiosity.

He smirks at you, "Of course. Romanoff and Maximoff are good at what they do."

"Remind me to buy them dinner later."

He looks at you with a pout, "I helped too!"

"Hardly, I'm sure."

"Well how about I get a kiss since I'm paying for everything?"

"The damage is your fault. I'm not rewarding you for solving the problems you caused, Barnes."

He groans, "You break my heart, sugar."

You shrug, "You'll live," you pocket the list and head to the counter to overlook all of your equipment.

Bucky stays back and watches you for a little bit. He can't deny how much he cares for you, which is why he's working so hard to fix the problems he caused.

He just hopes you'll eventually see how much you mean to him and take his feelings for you seriously.

PART 2 HERE

[mydearzero]

The Babysitter | Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader

Summary: You didn’t have any superpowers, nor were you even qualified for the position, yet somehow a mishap between Alexei and Yelena ends up in getting you a new job. Bob-sitter. 

Contents: No Y/N, fem!reader, college student!reader, no warnings apply for this chapter.

A/N: A multipart series?? From me?? who would've thought. We'll have to see where this goes and whether I'll keep it up lmao. Let me know what you think!

Read it on AO3 Chapter 2

Chapter 1 - Sitters NYC

1.9K words

“You said babysitter, I get a babysitter, problem solved!” Alexei exclaimed. The girl pinched the skin between her eyebrows, taking a few breaths before turning back to Alexei. 

“I didn’t mean an actual babysitter! I meant a trained professional! Or at least someone with a background check.”

This had been going on for about 5 minutes, ever since you’d arrived at the penthouse of the rebranded Avenger’s Tower. 

“Look, there’s clearly been a misunderstanding here. I can just, you know, leave,” you shrugged to the elevator, slowly picking your bag back up to leave. 

“No, no! You don’t leave. Just wait here,” Alexei insisted. You put your bag back on the floor, unsure of what to do next. 

You should’ve known as soon as the man contacted you through the Sitters NYC app that it was a bust. Who even has kids that need sitting in a place like this? You could still go back to Mrs. Lowinski, go back to cat-sitting the woman’s 17 Sphynx cats. But the lingering cat smell… Not to mention the fact that naked cats get their skin oils everywhere... No��� this was a safe bet. 

The duo argued some more before the girl, Lena?, turned to you with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you’re very nice and that my father offered you good money, but we had a bit of miscommunication about how to solve a problem. I’m really sorry.” 

“It’s okay, really. Thanks for the generous offer, anyway, Alexei,” you thanked the man with a thin smile, once again picking up your damn bag and heading for the elevator. 

Alexei yelled after you again to wait, but it was clear the man wouldn’t get his way, unfortunately for you. You gave him a sad wave and pressed the button for the elevator. As the doors opened, someone was about to step out when you were about to step inside. You did the awkward side-shuffle to get out of each other's way before he laughed and let you go first. You turned to stand facing the doors and caught a last glimpse of the man’s unruly brown hair before they closed.

✶

“Who was that?” Bob asked as the doors closed. 

“Your babysitter, if it was up to Alexei. We’re trying to find a reliable person who can stay here with you when we go out on missions, but Alexei took it upon himself to get an actual babysitter. For kids. Or cats. Or birds, apparently,” Yelena sighed. 

“You ask for trained professional with background check. We don’t even pass background check!” Alexei shouted. He did have a point, there. 

Bob was about to argue he didn’t need a babysitter, but he probably actually did. He couldn’t be left alone with his thoughts for too long, or he’d spiral real fast. Not good. 

“I mean, besides the company I really don’t think I need someone with much experience or training,” he shrugged. 

“See! Bob agrees. Sitter is sitter,” Alexei grumbled. 

“We’ll talk about this over dinner with the rest of the team,” Yelena spoke, and it was the final word. 

✶

You walked out of the grocery store enlightened. That’s where you’d seen the father-daughter duo before. The Wheaties box. They were part of the so-called ‘New Avengers’. It had been a few months since The Blackout, but you remembered it well. One second you’d been filling the 17 food bowls in Mrs. Lowinski’s kitchen, the next you were back in your childhood home.

You unlocked the front door and loaded your groceries in the cabinets and fridge. You sighed as you sat down on the couch, ready to call Mrs. Lowinski for your job back and to get back on Sitters NYC for more part-time work you could combine with your online classes.

Manhattan - Full-time 3 Children, aged 4, 6 & 9

Brooklyn - Part-time  4 Dogs

Queens - Au Pair 2 Children, aged 5 & 7 1 Cat

Manhattan - Part-time 3 Birds 1 Dog

Manhattan - Part-time 1 Child, age UNDISCLOSED

Ah, Alexei hadn’t taken the ad down yet. He’d been so nice, too. From what he’d described, you figured it was an older child, possibly a teenager, even, who needed someone to spend some time with every now and then. Not allowed to go out by themselves too much, irregular schedule, possible overnight stays. Nothing you couldn’t handle. Too bad it had been a misunderstanding. 

You walked into the kitchen and got ready to prepare dinner for one, again. One day you might put yourself out there. ‘Find someone real nice to take care of you,’ as Mrs. Lowinski had insisted. God, you had really spent too much time with the elderly woman. 

✶

“It really doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Ava spoke as she munched on some broccoli. 

“It’s not a bad idea, per se, it’s more that there’s factors we need to account for that Alexei overlooked. Like the fact that Bob is essentially a weapon that could be taken advantage of by the wrong person if we let them get too close,” Yelena had a point. 

“I’m not that naive…” Bob chimed in, but everybody knew he was easily influenced. Not to mention he couldn’t control The Void, and where The Sentry was, The Void followed. They couldn’t risk it. 

“I ran a background check, she’s just a college student. We can try it out with the next mission and see if Bob likes her. That’s the most important part, after all,” John argued. He grabbed the pot of potatoes and loaded a pile onto his plate, never satiated. 

“Bob, be like John, eat loads of potatoes. Good for strength,” Alexei’s mouth was full as he spoke. Bob gave him a small smile in acknowledgement, raising his fork which had a potato on it. 

“What does Bucky think?” Ava asked. The man rarely joined them for dinner, usually ‘too busy.’ 

“Haven’t spoken with him about it yet. I’ll call him after dinner to discuss. We need something if we’re gonna be as busy as Valentina is implying we’ll be,” Yelena sighed, stuffing her mouth with chicken. 

“Bob, can you pass me the salt?” She asked, mouth full. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. 

They finished dinner and Bob went to clean up as usual while Yelena called Bucky on speakerphone, still at the dining table. 

“I mean if she passed a background check I see no issue with at least trying it out. It’s not like we have many other options. He doesn’t need an actual caretaker. At least she’s somewhat his age, right? Maybe a little younger?” Bucky’s voice boomed from the phone and filled the room. The man was so up to date with technology, yet was still convinced he needed to talk louder if he was on speaker. 

“I guess. I’ll have Alexei call her back. But it’s NOT my fault if this all goes wrong!” Yelena made it very clear. She was not about to be blamed if this ended in disaster. Best possible outcome; the girl did fine, blended in and spent time with Bob. Worst possible outcome? Who knows. 

✶

”Are you really sure this time?” You asked Alexei over the phone. You’d been down this road with him before. 

“Yes, Yelena asked me to call you herself. You come by tonight to meet the team and meet Bob. Will be fun!” 

“Alright, I’ll be there by 9,” you confirmed. Who named their child Bob in this day and age? 

“See you at 9!” Alexei boasted. The man hung up and you stared at your phone bewildered. He better be right. You better not be going back there for nothing again.

If you wanted to be on time, you’d have to leave soon. You put your shoes back on, grabbed your headphones and bag and ran back out the door. You locked it behind you and sped down the stairs of your building. 

You walked to the subway station and put your earbuds in. Luckily the tower was only a few stops away, or this whole ordeal might’ve been more of a nuisance. The lights flickered irregularly as the metrocar shook through the underground. It seemed as though it was having more trouble than usual, but your trip was short, it didn’t matter as long as you got to your destination. 

The car shook some more as you got off, but it was no longer of any worry. You ran up the stairs of the station and were once again met directly with the entrance to the tower, the second time today. 

You walked back in and pressed the button for the elevator to come down. You sighed and got on, pressing the button for the penthouse and waited for the doors to close. The last thing you saw before they closed was the glass entrance of the tower being shattered. You flinched on instinct, but the elevator was already taking you up and away from the danger. Your heart thrummed in your chest. Was it just an accident, or was something bigger going on? 

Your question was soon answered by an announcement over the intercom. Everybody below the top twenty floors had to evacuate the building. Not you, then. Still, you were worried. 

The elevator came to a halt at the penthouse, doors sliding open agonizingly slow. You were met with a ruckus of people walking around yelling at each other. 

“Babysitter is here!” Alexei yelled as he tugged a red mask over his face. 

“Well that’s great timing, I guess,” Yelena spoke as she sheathed a few knives. She turned to look at you. 

“Bob is in the kitchen. You just need to keep him company for now while we go deal with whatever is going on on the street. We’ll explain everything when we get back. Whatever you do, try to keep him happy, distracted and away from danger. If anything happens to him, your funeral.” The instructions (and threat) were clear. 

Several people with an assortment of weapons bustled around you as you found your way to the kitchen. You looked around for a child, but there didn’t seem to be one in here. The only person you found was the guy you saw getting off the elevator earlier today, with the comfy outfit and tousled hair. He was seated at the breakfast island, watching as the others got ready for what you assumed would be quite the fight. 

“Uh, hi?” It came out as a question unintentionally. He turned to you, your first time catching a good look at his face. 

“Oh! Hi, uhm, you must be the, uh, sitter?” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. You nodded, putting your bag on the counter and looking him over. You looked around again, no child or teen in sight. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be, like, getting ready for battle?” You mimicked a fighting pose. He chuckled and shook his head. 

“No, it’s usually best to keep me as far away from those kinds of situations as possible…” He looked away, obviously not proud of the fact.

You sought out eye contact and reached out your hand. He looked at it before looking back to your eyes, tentatively reaching out. You introduced yourself and stretched your hand out further, encouraging him to take it. He was like a skittish kitten.

“I’m Bob,” was all you heard before your vision was delved in black and you returned to a memory from a past life left behind.

CHAPTER 2

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"Multi-talented Queen"

How I imagine the lads men react to hearing you sing for the first time.

Zayne

MC: Why are you staring at me?

Zayne: Just trying to figure out when you were going to tell me you could sing

MC: Okay prophet did you figure it out yet?

Zayne: Yes I have

MC: and what's the answer?

Zayne: You never were this is the only point in time when I was going to find out

MC: Im shy about my singing voice why are you mad?

Zayne: Im not upset ... I would just like to hear it more often

MC: Alright I'll sing you to sleep or something

Zayne: I accept your terms

MC: I was kidding hold on

Zayne: Too late I've already agreed to the terms and conditions

MC: What were the terms and conditions?!?!

Rafayel

MC: *Singing as she steps out of the shower*

Rafayel: *Busts open the bathroom door*

MC: WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?

Rafayel: Why'd you stop singing?

MC: Because you busted in here like a fed and im butterball naked

Rafayel: Yea ..... nice ... very nice

MC: Focus fishie

Rafayel: Why didn't you tell me you could sing?

MC: you never asked

Rafayel: Do it again

MC: Do I bust in on you while you're naked and demand for you to sing?

Rafayel: I mean id be fine with that

MC: Get out

Rafayel: Sing first

MC: No

Rafayel: Come on please?

MC: You sing

Rafayel: I can't

MC: is your voice that bad?

Rafayel: No I have the vocals of a siren it will kill you

MC: *laughs*

Rafayel: ...

MC: ...

MC: Wait you're serious?

Xavier

Xavier: Are there any other secrets you're hiding?

MC: Are you still on this?

Xavier: You hid it from me

MC: I didn't hide anything I just didn't sing around you

Xavier: You hid it

MC: I get nervous singing in front of people and you still give me butterflies by just looking at me

Xavier: If I close my eyes will that help?

MC: That's not how it works Xavier

Xavier: What if I stand on the balcony with my back to you?

MC: Why do you want me to sing so bad?

Xavier: ....It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard

MC: S-STOP !

Sylus

Sylus: *Holds up his phone and plays a recording* You'd give Princess Fiona a run for her money

MC: MEPHISTO CAN RECORD???

Sylus: How many times do I have to remind you that he is a mechanical crow?

MC: He's a little shit that's what he is....

Sylus: What exactly was your plan?

MC: I was trying to make him explode the same way Fiona did

Sylus: and what came of that?

MC: Leave me alone Sylus

Sylus: How do you have so much animosity towards a crow?

MC: Why does your crow have so much static with me?

Sylus: You should sing more often

MC: No

Sylus: What if I say please?

MC: Still no

Sylus: Shall I beg?

MC: Still no ... well actually ... wait n-no ... I get nervous there's nothing you can say that will change my mind

Sylus: I'll move Mephisto into one of the twins rooms

MC: Send me a list of songs you wanna hear

[auroralwriting]

his little finger

spencer reid x fem!hothead!reader

part two!!! | part one

spencer has you wrapped around his finger; you'd do anything he said without question. your team can't quite understand it. little do they know you and spencer have an unsaid.. thing.

warnings: reader has a hot temper, reader gets injured, innuendos for smut (they did it) | words: 1k again im sorry but i have plans for spence!!

It finally happened. The day everyone had been dreading. Finally, your hot temper got you injured during a case.

You caught a guy, he fit your profile exactly. You knew deep down it was him. He didn't react well to confident women, so Hotch sent you in to interrogate him. You would break him down, reduce him to mere atoms.

"Come on, Charlie," You had your hands on the table, leaning over to him. "We know you killed those women. We have all the evidence right here. Save yourself some jail time and just admit, yeah?"

Charlie kept his eyes trained to the floor, "I didn't kill those women." He stated, voice quiet.

You could see the sweat on his face, the way his foot tapped. "You can't even look at me!" You laughed, "Of course you didn't kill those women. You can't even look at one without almost pissing your pants." You gave Charlie a small tsk, "But I guess that just goes to show you aren't so tough, huh? You couldn't control a situation, not if you wanted to, not even if you tried. You--"

Stars. You saw stars and heard a loud clang. It took you a moment to realize you were on the floor. You felt absolutely nothing for a second, then a searing hot pain in your head. Finally, you looked up to see Charlie had a thick, sharp rock in his hand. He had struck you. The table and chair were on opposite sides of the room, and there was blood on the rock. Your blood. You pushed yourself up to the wall, unable to stand up or speak.

"Yeah? I can't control a situation?" Charlie taunted, "Guess you got your fucking profile wrong, you little bitch!"

The door was busted open, Hotch and Derek running in. Derek got the guy under his control as Rossi and Spencer ran in.

"Hey, hey," Hotch kneeled beside you. "Come on, let's stand." You felt his arms under you, lifting you up.

Spencer was quick to take one side of you, helping you out of the room. "Hey, sweetheat, it's alright," You heard Spencer say. "You're okay now. Come on, say something!"

The genius refused to leave your side, even as the paramedics came into the room. One went to touch your head, but you flinched away harshly, grabbing his arm. "Don't you dare touch me," You hissed. It was the first thing you'd said.

Your team watch in shock, surprised you refused help. Spencer was quick to jump in, recognizing you were in flight or fight mode. "Honey, he's just trying to help you," Spencer softly explained. "He's gonna help your head,"

"It won't hurt?" Your voice turned soft, nearly a whine due to the pain.

Spencer shook his head, "It won't hurt. I'll hold your hand the whole time, okay?" After a slight hesitation, you nodded. Spencer laced his fingers with your own, letting you lean on him for support as he rambled about random statistics to help occupy your mind.

Hotch instructed that Spencer was to take you back to the hotel for the rest of the night to rest. He drove you there, allowing you to pick the music and temperature for the car. The whole time, you held his hand.

Once you got back to your room, he helped you in. He was kind enough to help you take off your jacket and slip off your shoes. After he was done, he turned around, ready to leave.

"No," You called, pulling him back with your hand that you had in his. "I want you to stay."

Spencer was quick to turn back around, "Of course, yeah, I'll stay." He slipped off his own shoes and sat next to you on your bed.

"I shouldn't have been so harsh," You muttered. "I got myself hurt."

"Hey, no," Spencer shook his head. "That guy would've hurt someone no matter what. He was ready. You didn't get yourself hurt, okay? It was all his fault. You were doing your job, one you're damn good at."

You felt your eyes water. "I'm too mean, too quick to anger." You muttered as Spencer took his hand, gently pulling your head onto his shoulder. "I wish I wasn't."

"I don't," Spencer responded, voice soft. "I, uh, love you just the way you are."

Finally someone said it.

You didn't even respond in words, you just pulled his face to yours and pressed your lips together. Spencer took no time in reciprocating, kissing you back with a firey force. You'd both been waiting for this for so, so long.

"I love you too," You breathlessly responded as you pulled back. Spencer didn't let you have another moment as he pulled you back to his lips, chasing the gratifying feeling it gave him to finally be kissing you. "Spence, air," You gasped, pulling back.

"You can last three to five minutes without air," Spencer mumbled, pressing kisses to your lips as he spoke. "I think you'll be okay for a few more."

Even while practically making out with you, you loved that Spencer couldn't help but use his big brain to ramble off some facts. "Thought you had to go back,"

"They'll be fine without me," You giggled at Spencer's response.

After a half hour, Spencer's phone began to buzz. It was Derek. Spencer, half undressed, rolled over to look at his phone. "Who is it?" You asked.

"Morgan," Spencer said. He hit the decline button, leaning back over to you when it buzzed again. He let out a frustrated groan and picked up the phone. "What, Morgan? I'm busy."

You could hear Derek from how close you were to Spencer. "Busy? Doing what?" He paused, "Oh, doing who- Wait a minute--"

Quickly, Spencer hung up the phone. "I think he got the point." Spencer smiled as he silenced his phone. He turned back to you, caressing your cheek. "Where were we?"

Back at the station, Derek's jaw was slung open. "Guys, you aren't gonna believe this." He turned back around to the team who stared at him curiously, wondering where their genius went. "They're having sex, Reid and L/n."

"No way!" Emily laughed, "Now?"

"Hotch did send them to the hotel," JJ smiled.

With a shrug, Hotch held out his hand. "Today is day four. Pay up,"

"You!" Rossi pointed his finger at Hotch. He slowly began to pull out his wallet. "You sent them back on purpose!"

"She was hurt," Hotch held back a smile. "I would do no such thing, especially on a case."

Derek rolled his eyes, "Case's over. Right after we detained the guy again, he admitted to it. You just wanted to win this." Derek slapped a crisp twenty in Hotch's hand, along with the rest of the team. "I guess I'll let Garcia know she owes you."

Hotch smiled to himself, "I'm always right."

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Dante Patching You Up After A Tough Mission

Dante X FemReader

Rating: M

Warnings: Blood, Injury, flirting, steam, suggestive themes, violence, stitching, angst, fluff, some nudity

Word Count: 2.3k

Part 2: here

(A/N:) What was supposed to be a short imagine suddenly exploded into this whopper of a story. I had a little too much fun but I enjoy hurt/comfort so much. And I adore Dante so yeah I had a little too much fun. I went ahead and made this mature as my inner vampire came out. So enjoy the chaos that is being unleashed from my mind! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Dante held you tightly, blood dripping down your fingers to drip on the ground. The gash in your shoulder burned and every little jostle had you hissing in pain. The mission had been tough, tougher than you were expecting. But to come out alive was a huge victory. Dante kept taking quick glances at you as he worried about the injuries. You had been sent flying by a larger demon. Dante knew he heard a loud crack when you hit the wall, but you refused to let yourself be pampered too much. You argued about Dante carrying you so now he was helping you by his arm around your waist and your arm over his shoulder while he helped you walk.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," Dante lugged you harder towards the van.

"No hospitals," you gritted your teeth, willing your feet to keep moving forward.

"You're bleeding out babe," Dante argued, carrying you inside the door.

"I haven't lost that much blood."

"You're bleeding more than the demon I just made into a pin cushion," he retorted. "You're going. I'm sure something else is busted inside you too."

"Ribs," you replied. "They're cracked. They won't do anything for cracked ribs Dante."

"We can at least get you a blood transfusion. I can't lose you sweetheart."

"You're not going to lose me Dante. You're going to stitch me and I'm going to heal. Demon Hunter's promise okay."

Dante cursed but started the van anyway and respected your wishes, even though he didn't like them or agree. Your head rolled against the van couch's cushion and Dante was getting worried. A small puddle of blood grew at your feet and he could feel panic nipping at his heels. The van had a med kit, not as extensive as a hospital but good enough to take care of all sorts of wounds his human team members needed cared for. He called your name and you responded with a hum.

You were still conscious so that was good but he needed to get your flayed open shoulder taken care of soon or you wouldn't be much longer. A motel sign, sun bleached and worn rose in the distance and while he rather get you back to the shop, this would have to do. Pulling over Dante parked the van in the pot holed parking lot of a two story motel. The yellow walls chipping and the door numbers falling off, but it would have to do. He grabbed a wad of cash out of the stash that he kept in the glove compartment and kissed your forehead as he passed by.

"I'll be right back just stay with me," he whispered.

"I ain't going anywhere Dante," you winced.

"Still don't want to go to the hospital?"

"No I don't! How do you explain to the nurses that my injures were caused by being back handed by a flying demon arm," you snorted before groaning in pain.

"They'll just think you're drunk or tweaking out on drugs," he chuckled.

"Oh I wish I was drunk right now," you moaned.

"Just hang on I'll get you taken care of," he kissed you again and left out the side door.

With a room key in hand, Dante scooped you up despite your protest and pained yelps and carried you into the dusty room he rented for a couple nights. He checked the bed carefully and laid you on the side with the less stains. Blood trickled from your lips and he wiped it away with his thumb.

"I'm going to have to remove your shirt to check your shoulder," Dante cleared off the bedside table to set the van's medical kit close by.

"Take me to dinner first before you start stripping me," you hissed.

"Don't worry," Dante scrounged around for a cup to put warm water in and grabbed several motel towels and washcloths, "you can keep your pants on. It's less fun that way but I'll still show you a good time."

"Oh thank you," you rolled your eyes and fought the laugh bubbling up.

"Actually forget moving you to get your shirt off I'm going to have to cut it off you." Dante didn't want to move you. The less he did the better it would be on your cracked ribs.

"You barbarian," you teased. "This is the only one I have though. The last thing I want is to get arrested for public indecency. You're indecent enough for both of us."

Dante chuckled already ripping your shirt carefully so he wouldn't jostle you, "You can wear mine."

"Gross yours is dirty too and covered in demon guts," you made a face. Dante finished getting your shirt out of the way leaving you in your bra. You felt a little bit embarrassed but you were the one who decided you didn't want to go to the hospital and Dante wouldn't hold anything against you. Despite acting like a womanizer at times with his inappropriate jokes, he was more respectable towards you and other women than anyone who didn't know him realized.

"I carry extra clean ones. And don't worry you're still a beauty to me blood and all."

"That's not what I'm worried about," you rolled your eyes.

"I'm looking respectfully," Dante laughed. "My mind is on pure thoughts."

"You have no pure thoughts Dante."

"True."

"Sew me up already before I decide decking you will be worth the pain," you snarled.

"Mmm I like a feisty woman," he waggled his brows while stroking your cheek.

"Dante!"

"Okay fine," he huffed.

"I'm still bleeding."

"I'll remedy that."

"Hurry up!"

"Yes ma'am!"

Dante filled up two coffee mugs with warm water and squirted a little bit of soap from the complimentary bottle of hand soap into one. He used the soap water on one of the rags to wipe away as much blood from your skin and the edge of the wound. You hissed and snarled at his touch but you didn't move much. He knew that you knew the stitching was going to hurt worse. He would offer you a drink or two if he had a bottle but he hadn't bought booze in a long time. Pizza was his downfall now but he would be there for you. Taking his time and being as gentle as possible. Using the regular warm water he cleaned the few suds away and then used a towel to wipe your skin dry. He loves you so much and he can't bear to see the bruises already blossoming on your sides and a few other places you were hit. His blood boiled in anger at the thought of the rogue demon doing this to you. His inner devil snarling, making his hands tremble.

You noticed Dante struggling and he quietly growled in his throat. You reached out clasping his wrist and stabilizing his shaking hand. His blue gaze catching yours, you nodded giving him a gentle squeeze as a reminder.

"I'm okay," you soothed. "I'm right here Dante. I'm not going to leave you any time soon."

"I'm pretty sure I'm the one who is supposed to be soothing you," he retorted but visibly relaxed. His inner devil quieting down immediately at your voice. He went back to cleaning you up as best as he could.

"Then get your head out of your butt and focus on getting me closed up. I don't like open wounds on sheets I don't know what the stains are from."

"I have a pretty good idea," his side eye made you want to gouge out his eyes.

"For the love of! Dante please shut up," you whined in exasperation.

Dante finished cleaning up as much blood as possible then he focused on finding the stitch kit with some antiseptic, he prepped himself to listen to more of your breathless complaints. Threading the needle and grabbing the holder, Dante pinched your skin together. You jerked at the pain of him holding the tear of your skin together but then cried out when he poked the needle through your skin.

"Oh what I wouldn't give to have your healing ability," you sobbed.

"I'd give it to you baby in a heartbeat if I could," Dante choked, quickly finishing the first stitch before going for the other one. Pinch, poke, tie, cut. Pinch, poke, tie, cut. He moved quickly and effortlessly as tears streaked your cheeks. Then in mere moments Dante finished the last stitch and wiped away the stray blood droplets that leaked while he had worked. You eased back, shaking from the adrenaline shooting through your body. And while Dante felt guilty for putting you through so much already there was more to be done. With sorrowful eyes and gave you his next task.

"I'm sorry babe but I'm going to have to sit you up so I can bandage you as best as I can." Dante dreaded this moment. But the stitches weren't enough protection and he wanted to get your ribs wrapped as well. Any sort of relief he could give you he wanted to.

"I'm a big girl I can take it," you gritted your teeth. Willing yourself not to scream. You didn't want the other motel patrons to call the cops due to the noises you were making.

"That's my girl," he smoothed your hair back before kissing the top of your hair.

With gentle movement he raised you up, making you catch your scream but still whines and whimpers pushing past your lips. Dante's heart clenched before shattering at every sound that escaped your mouth. You rested your cheek against Dante's clothed abdomen. Trying to catch your breath but not breathe too deeply due to your ribs. His warm skin heated your cheek you clung to his coat as he widened his stance to fit your legs between his.

"I got you sweetheart just rest," Dante cooed, reaching for a padded gauze and bandage wrap and tape. You nodded, still trying to stop the room from spinning from the pain. He wrapped your ribs first, wanting to get the most painful out of the way since you were still reeling from him lifting you into a sitting position. You focused on the nearness of Dante, his arms moving carefully and surely as he encircled you. His scent and presence did more than anything. You sucked in a breath as he taped the bandage secure and moved towards your shoulder. His fingers brushed your skin, sending a jolt of electricity and before Dante could pull away, you grabbed his hand. Still clinging to his coat and your head still pressed to his abdomen, you placed the back of his hand against your cheek.

"Thank you," you whispered, exhaustion finally taking a hold.

"Always," Dante replied with conviction. He eased you back down carefully, the wraps helping your ribs from jostling more than usual. He fished some pain killers from the kit and took a bottle of water from the counter. You swallowed them and shut your eyes.

"Rest," Dante ordered and you didn't argue.

Once he knew that you wouldn't need him, Dante went back to the van grabbing himself a change of clothes and a set of his boxers and shirt for you later. You couldn't shower just yet with all your bandages but he'd help you get clean as much as possible when you were ready. Right now rest was what you needed most, but Dante wanted to get clean. Your blood had dried to his skin and it was mixed with the devil's blood. He couldn't stand the scent of you mingled with the filth of evil.

Checking on you again, Dante started the shower. The rusty showerhead didn't have much pressure but he didn't complain. Tossing his dirty clothes to the floor he entered the hot water spray and watched the red stain the bottom of the tub and go down the drain. His forehead pressed against the wall and he shuddered. The agony of the day catching up as the fear of almost losing you gripped him. He choked back his tears, slamming his fist in the plastic shower wall. He wanted to scream but he made due with cursing under his breath. Taking a deep breath, Dante steadied himself and focused on cleaning up.

Shutting off the water and toweling himself off with the remaining towel. Dante dressed in a clean pair of boxers and a shirt, but he laid the pants on one of the motel chairs. He wanted to lay by your side and rest for a moment. He needed to be close to you for awhile. He would focus on getting more supplies in the morning. His focus right now was you and keeping himself calm before he could lose it any more than he already had in the shower. He shook his head trying to dry his hair as much as possible before he laid next to you on the bed. It was smaller than the one he had back home but it was perfect to him. Your body was close to his and he took your hand threading your fingers together while he pressed as close as he thought safe to. You mumbled in your sleep, but he was happy that you were in a deep sleep. Rest would help you heal. He never wanted to admit how fast you wormed your way into his heart. But the thought of losing you ripped him to shreds. He lost his dad, mom, and pretty much his brother in this life. Surely it wouldn't take you too. A man could only lose so much. He breathed you in deeply, calming himself, and your sleepy breathing lulling him to sleep. You were the last thing he saw before he drifted off to sleep and he looked forward to you being the first thing he saw when he woke up.

[callme-holly]

could you maybe please do some scenarios for (y/n) comforting sodapop, Dallas, ponyboy, and Johnny if you want please. also could you please make the reader fem please and thank you

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 [𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐒𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐩 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬, 𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐝𝐞.]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - im a little behind on requets but im getting there! i've got my final exam of this week tomorrow and then i'll be a lot speedier, i promise. asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mentions of fighting, getting jumped and small injury detail

Dallas Winston -  The room is quiet as you card your fingers through Dallas’ hair, the greaser’s head resting against your thigh. His eyes are closed, and there's a nasty bruise blossoming on his cheekbone, accompanied by a few bloodied scrapes that he refuses to let you clean. There’s dried blood crusted beneath his nose, which you wipe away gently with the pad of your thumb, humming softly under your breath as he breathes out a low, soft groan.  “You alright?” Your tone is barely above a whisper as you tug at the ends of his mussy locks, pushing them back from his face. He blinks once or twice, his eyelashes fanning against his cheeks, and his expression is a little less pained than it was just minutes ago.  “Yeah,” he murmurs after a moment, “fine.” He shifts a little bit so that his head is now more firmly planted upon your lap, and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer in a half embrace. You reach down between the two of you and retrieve the ice pack that is sitting forgotten beside you, pressing it against his swollen cheek once more.  He makes a disgruntled noise but doesn't open his eyes again.  “Sorry 'bout this.” His voice is rough, strained from the exertion: “Y' shouldn't have to take care of me all the damn time.” The words fall heavy between the two of you as he speaks, and you smile softly, shaking your head. “It ain't too much trouble, really.” You rub small circles against his bicep, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. “And besides...” your voice drops to an almost conspiratorial murmur, “I like taking care of you. It makes me feel better when I know you're not lying dead in a ditch somewhere.”  He gives you a lopsided grin at that, eyes still closed. “You've got so much faith in me, doll.”  Your smile widens, feeling something twist inside of you. You take his hand, squeezing it gently before pressing a quick kiss to his busted-up knuckles. “Whatever.” 

Sodapop Curtis -  A small sigh leaves your lips as Soda buries his face in your chest, arms wrapped tightly around your middle, tears cascading down his cheeks as he struggles for air.  It pains you to see him like this, his usual bright smile replaced with a look of pure anguish, silent sobs racking his body. You rub slow circles against his back, mumbling soft words of reassurance into his ear as he clings to your shirt. “I don’t understand,” he gasps, his voice thick with emotion. “Why can't they just get along? They never used to be like this. A shudder runs through him, and you tighten your hold on him, rocking him a bit back and forth as he cries. “Shh, Soda, hey, you need to breathe,” you murmur soothingly, combing your fingers through his hair. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.” You press a soft kiss to the top of his head, hushing him quietly as his cries gradually abate.  “I just want them to get along.” Soda whispers brokenly, burying his face against your collarbones. “I'm tired of being made to pick sides. I don't wanna be in the middle all the time.” You hum sympathetically, shifting slightly so that you can wrap both arms around him and pull him as close as physically possible. Soda melts into your touch, relaxing fully against you. You can tell he's exhausted, both emotionally and physically.  "I hate it.” He sounds miserable. “All they do is yell at each other. Darry is way too hard on Pony, and Pony's trying his hardest, but he can only take so much–" Soda stops abruptly, his breath hitched in his throat as another sob tears from him, wracking his body. His grip tightens around your middle and your heart clenches painfully at the sight.  “I just want things to go back to normal.” You give a slow nod, closing your eyes. “I know, I know. It'll be okay.” You press another gentle kiss to his temple and run your hands slowly up and down his spine, trying to offer as much comfort as you can. He relaxes under your touch, melting further into you as he tries to take deep, steady breaths, struggling to control himself.  You tilt his chin up so that he's looking at you once more, running your thumb over his cheek. “I love you, you know” “Mm,” he hums, blinking rapidly to rid his vision of the last remnants of tears. His eyes meet yours, and even though his gaze is glassy and filled with sadness and pain, his expression is soft and tender. “Love you too.”

Ponyboy Curtis -  You're sitting in the lot, your jacket pulled tightly around you, when you hear the sound of approaching footsteps. You stiffen and turn sharply, expecting to see a group of drunken socs or the odd greaser looking for trouble, only to come face to face with none other than Ponyboy Curtis. He has tears streaming down his cheeks, his hair mused as he all but throws himself at you, shoulders shaking and chest heaving. You don’t speak a word as you pull him into your arms, rubbing your hands over his shoulders in an attempt to calm him. His head comes to rest on your shoulder, one fist clutching the front of your sweater as tight as possible, the other hanging uselessly by his side. For several moments, he sits in silence, letting you hold him while he finally manages to collect himself. Then he pulls back, wiping furiously at his face. “Sorry…” You don’t miss the way he averts his gaze from you as he speaks, refusing to make eye contact. “Didn't mean to bother you; I just—”  You shake your head, interrupting him. “There’s no reason for you to apologise.” You pause, considering for a long moment before continuing. “What's up?”  He exhales shakily, then hesitantly meets your gaze again. “I—Darry yelled at me again. He got real mad this time.” His voice cracks, and you pull him close once more. You know Darry’s been harder on him as of late, expecting too much of a boy Pony’s age. You know he means well, but you also know the toll it’s been taking on the younger Curtis brother and how difficult these past few weeks have been for him.  “Sometimes I don't think Darry likes me very much.” You can hear the vulnerability in his tone, unable to miss how broken he appears. He's not crying anymore; if anything, he looks a little embarrassed and ashamed. You frown, brushing his damp bangs from his forehead. “Don't be ridiculous.” Your tone is firm, determined to keep him from ever getting caught up in that dark spiral. “He cares about you a whole lot.” “He's got a funny way of showin' it.” Pony grumbles softly, and you can't help but laugh at his bluntness, wrapping your arms tighter around him. “I wish he'd be nicer. I really don't like all the fighting we do.” “I know. But it'll get easier.” You look down at him. “If you want, I can go talk some sense into him.” That earns you a smile as Ponyboy nods, squeezing you a little tighter. “Good luck. I doubt he’ll listen.” You press a quick kiss to his forehead, smiling softly. “I’ll try my best.”

Johnny Cade -  Arms circle around your waist, gripping onto you tightly as you comb your fingers through his tangled, and still heavily greased, hair. Johnny’s head rests in your lap, eyes squeezed shut as he tries desperately to fall into some sort of relaxed state, but he just can't seem to find the will within himself to do so. You watch him silently, running a finger absently along his jawline, taking in the bruises and cuts littering his face and arms. He looks worn thin and broken; his cheeks are tear-stained and hollowed by exhaustion. His breathing remains unsteady and uneven, his skin pale, and you can't help but reach out and brush the pad of your thumb across the faint lines beneath his eyes, your brow furrowing deeply. He flinches slightly but doesn’t open his eyes, his breath hitching. “Sorry,” You whisper, going back to smoothing your hand over his hair. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”  Johnny lets out a soft sigh, leaning his forehead against your stomach. “S' okay…” He shifts a little closer to you, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together. “...just glad yer here.” You bite your lower lip, tracing patterns into the back of his hand with your thumb, pressing soft kisses against his forehead as you let him snuggle closer, relishing in the simple closeness of it all. It eases your nerves knowing he's safe with you and calms the storm raging inside of you. Your mind wanders back to earlier, the images of him lying, half-dead, in that field flashing unbidden through your mind.   It takes a lot to make Johnny Cade cry, but the second you had knelt down beside him and pulled him into your arms while the gang huddled about you, his composure had completely crumbled. Sobs had wracked his body, shaking his entire frame, and you could do nothing but hold him until he had finally calmed down. And now, here he was, curled up into your embrace, clinging to you like a lifeline. Every little noise made him jump, every sudden movement made his muscles tense, and your heart ached for him. You wanted so badly to make everything better, but there was nothing you could do. All you could do was stay there, holding him as he cried, wishing that there was something you could do besides sit by and whisper softly to him. But, you know, right now, just you being there is enough for him.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[ariestrxsh]

could you write a little blurb/drabble (idk the difference) about walking in on matt/chris jerking off to your guys’ sex tape and then degrading and humiliating tf outta him while he continues getting off?🫶💗

humiliating Matt while he gets off to your sextape...

The apartment was eerily quiet when you got home. You certainly hadn't expected to walk in on your boyfriend jerking off to a homemade video that the two of you had recorded a few weeks earlier.

However, when you walked into your bedroom and found him sprawled out on the bed the two of you shared with his cock in one hand and his phone in the other while he got off to you, you were extremely flattered.

"Matthew Bernard Sturniolo. What do you think you're doing?" You condescendingly asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms sternly. "Don't look," he whimpered, continuing to stroke himself in front of you.

"Oh, I'll look if I want to," you smugly responded. "You didn't answer my question. What do you think you're doing? Couldn't wait for me to get home?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," Matt whined, his hand pumping back and forth over his shaft as your eyes locked onto his swollen head that looked like it was about to bust any second.

"What do you mean, you didn't mean to? You trying to tell me that you accidentally opened up our sex tape, that you accidentally pushed play, and that you accidentally stuck your hand down your pants? Do you think I'm stupid, Matthew?" You asked in a patronizing tone.

"N-no, it's not that," Matt hissed through his teeth, his breathing becoming irregular. "What is it then, Matthew? You just can't control yourself?" You sweetly asked, taking a couple of steps closer to him. He shook his head no at you while he looked at you in desperation.

"You have no shame, huh? You're not even gonna stop?" You wondered, reaching out and gently brushing the back of your hand against his flushed cheek.

Your eyes were still fixed on his pretty dick and the way clear liquid gathered at his slit and started leaking down the side of his mushroom-shaped tip. He shook his head no again as he gently caressed his sensitive glans with his thumb, coaxing more shiny fluid to leak out of it.

"Awh, look at how cute your cock looks," you cooed, smirking at him. He cringed at the way you spoke down to him. He always found it humiliating when you called his cock things like cute and pretty or when you used really feminine adjectives to describe it.

"It's so sparkly," you told him, admiring the way the wet sheen caught the light. He was blushing hard by now, but he didn't skip a beat, his eyes still traveling to the screen in front of him.

"Can't even get another girl wet in your fantasies, hmm? Can only get off to me?" You teased him, brushing your thumb against his bottom lip. He knew how pitiful he probably looked to you, but he needed to cum more than he needed to look tough in front of you.

"I need you," he softly purred, peering into your eyes as he started stroking himself faster and harder. "I wish you could see how pathetic you look right now," you whispered, your lips curling in a devilish grin.

"Please. Keep going. I'm so close," he begged. "That's it. Be a good boy and play with that pretty cock for me, Matthew."

He whimpered and shuddered beneath his own touch and under the spell of your degrading words. "Yes, I'll be such a good boy," he cried, his voice cracking in desperation.

Seconds later, he was throbbing, his cum squirting out of his tip and glazing his stomach and his chest with his pearly white substance. A few finals moans poured from him as he finished himself off, a euphoric feeling overwhelming him and a sense of tranquility and calmness washing over him as he came back down from his high.

You gently ran your fingers through his hair and seductively peered into his hooded blue eyes. He stared back with a satisfied smile on his face while you taunted him, glancing down at his cum-covered flesh, "Wow! I can't believe such a sweet little cock made such a big mess!"

[bigwishes]

I wish I could be a big guy. I’ve always wanted to get into the gym more but I just can’t find the motivation. But I see these guys online and in the gym when I pass. Huge muscle. Sweat. Looking like they lift as a full time job.

Sure thing bro

You wanna be huge? Why not 6.8ft! Want guys to be intimated by your shadow? Well I'll just widen your shoulders and fill your lats with so much mass you'll constantly block out the light behind you and get stuck in any door way.

And we can't have a big meat head walking around with a fully expected now can we? Well that's an easy fix, make your upper back and shoulders so big you look like you'll topple over.

Now how bout those arms? Biceps bigger than your own head sound nice and triceps that split your sleeves. But you can't just be top heavy. You need a big juicy muscle ass and legs so fucking huge it causes you to stand wide and waddle with each step.

What do ya think? Like the new you?

Well we aren't done just yet

I can't just go around making guys into the perfect man, so how about a happy, lil compromise?

Next time you feel yourself get hard you'll be forced to jerk off, you won't be able to help it! And with each stroke your big meaty man hood will shrink, inch by inch until you are left with a pathetic tiny roid abused dick, only able to let out a drop of cum as your whole load each week.

That should stop you from getting distracted from the gym

And I know you have a thing for men with big feet? Well why should you miss out? Next time you put your gym shoes on you'll feel like your feet are burning up, and they'll get bigger with each step until your monstrously sized sweaty feet bust our of your shoes, it'll happen again and again forcing you to be a barefoot behemoth.

Finally for the cherry on top will scramble your brain! Open up your skull and just dump a protein shake inside. You'll have an empty exhausted stare as you constantly pant to fill your body with oxygen, you'll be stuck with slured dumb speech inserting the word bro randomly. The only thing your mind will be able to understand is how to lift weight till it hurts then hiw to eat till the hurt stops.

Your only goal in life now getting so big you can't move.

Enjoy your tiny cock you dumb fucking meat head.

[potatobugxo]

if you're taking requests, maybe headcannons or a one shot y/n comforting either kissy, doey, or huggy? Offering them cuddles, head kisses, anything like that?

I'LL DO ALL 3 🥰🥰

I'll do scenarios of the reader comforting them after their traumatic occurrences... Poor babies 🥺🥺

warnings: trauma (all characters) severe injuries/body gore (for kissy and huggy's parts) doey has a severe mental breakdown

pairings: kissy missy, doey, and huggy wuggy x reader (separate)

🩷kissy missy🩷

-after fighting off the prototype and barely surviving, you're the one to nurse kissy back to health

-using stray bandages and medical supplies, you manage to clean her burn-like wounds, and mend her broken arm

-the poor baby is severely traumatized after what happened, and she's still shaking from the incident even after you're finished patching her up

-you cradle her large head in your arms and she curls into you, and you pet her fur, making soft cooing noises to calm her down

-"it's okay, kissy, you're safe now, sweet pea..."

-it takes some time but she eventually calms down in your arms

🌈doey🌈

-after the prototype destroys safe haven, doey is beyond shattered, his entire life and reason for living having been destroyed

-youre the only one left that he still cares about

-as he starts to lose it, his rage bubbling to a boil, and he starts to transform into his more monstrous form, you do your best to quell his anger

-you hug him tight even as he tries to break free from your grip as he screams and cries and thrashes around

-"I'm so sorry, doey... I'm so, so sorry..."

-it takes a long time but doey finally calms down after you hold him for long enough, and he just starts sobbing in your arms

-he shrinks back down to his normal size and wraps his long, doughy arms around you as he cries, mourning the loss of the friends he swore to protect

-there's little you can do to reassure him everything will be okay, but you're all he has left, and you're the only reason he didn't go on a killing spree

💙huggy wuggy💙

-after huggy's nearly fatal fall down further into the factory, you find him curled up in a corner after he managed to scrape his wounded body off the floor

-he's covered in injuries when you find him, his blue fur stained with his own blood, his head busted open and one of his arms barely dangling by a thread

-the worst of it was his stuffing-like intestines bursting through the seams of his blue fur

-you rush to help him, finding anything you can to tend to his wounds

-you use his own bowtie as a tourniquet to tie around his arm, before you have to pull the rest of it off, as it was beyond saving

-huggy is crying and growling and whimpering as you mend his wounds, and though most of the damage was external, he had many internal injuries as well

-once you're finished you pull him into a hug as he rests on the floor, his breathing uneven. you coo to him, planting soft kisses to his face

-"I promise I won't let anyone hurt you ever again..."

[moineauz]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅

synopsis: how he experiences the five stages of grief

including: veritas, jing yuan, sunday

side comments: live laugh love angst… anyways, these are all my own renditions of how i think they’ll experience grief. just keep in mind these ‘stages’ are not the same for everyone and can move in order etr. I was going to do blade and boothill but i think I'll do a separate post for that.

extra: gn except for jing yuan, mentions of marriage in jing yuan's, angst, a bit of substance use if you blink, established relationship, can you tell it's my first time writing sunday? favourites: jing yuan word count: 2000+

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

STAGE ONE: DENIAL

Dr. Ratio is a man who took pride in being factual. His entire life was in the efforts of purging the world of ignorance; replacing it with truth. Yet, the hospital's fluorescent lights seemed to push his shoulders down- false. The flurry of movement merged and buzzed until Veritas could feel his ear drum shatter, false. Veritas's throat burned in silence- false. When your pale figure came into view: dressed in that hospital gown you despised, the heartbeat monitor's line flat- Veritas only thought was false.

STAGE TWO: ANGER

Veritas knew anger was the next stage. He was a doctor after all. The doctor who should have brushed his hands over your pale forehead. The doctor who should have heard your final words escape the lips he once traced. The doctor who should have raced to the defibrillator. The doctor who should have counselled and administered your medicine hand by hand, line by line. The doctor who shouldn't have trusted you're tender words and dotting smile. The doctor who should have held you're hand in public when you still could walk. The doctor who should have loved his spouse more.

STAGE THREE: BARGAINING

Margaret was no longer Dr. Ratio's assistant. Nevertheless, she found herself knocking at his office door, a loaf of homemade bread in tow and a small card bearing her sincerest empathy. Margaret recalled how Dr. Ratio's stoic expression twitched and busted into a radiant smile when you teased him. Similarly, Margaret recalled the coolness of your hands and the frequent coughs muffled in the dark corners of his office where you thought no soul could hear you.

"Dr. Ratio?" calls Margaret; knocking on the office door. "I baked some bread for you, is it possible for you to open the door?"

Margaret waits, however, there is no response. She sighs, gingerly placing the basket on the floor. "( Name ) would not want this of you, Dr. Ratio. Please-" she pauses, searching for the 'right' words, "Please take care of yourself."

Several hours pass, Margaret long gone. Dr. Ratio gradually opens the door, the bread gone cold. He sets the basket on a stack of books as the letter flutters to the ground unnoticed. Veritas resumes his ceaseless work.

STAGE FOUR: DEPRESSION

The world seems strangely slow yet incredibly fast. Tangible yet fickle. Veritas blinks; staring at the paper he has been writing for several months, the silence of his office serene. Veritas blinks again, however, his handwriting is a foreign entity in his mind like: a map of unnamed stars. The kind he fails to understand. What was he writing about? Veritas glances into the disorder of his office: papers strewn across the floor littered with empty mugs. What did drink again?

Veritas' eyes return back to his paper. However, the lines seem to blur and the black ink stains his hands. Something wet plummets onto the paper: droplets of salty rain.

For the first time in a year, Veritas wept and shuddered: his broad shoulders quivering.

STAGE FIVE: ACCEPTANCE

For the first time in years, the night is quiet. Nothing stirs him within the boundless expanse of his dreams. Your side of the bed- the one in which the indent of your body still impresses, fossilized until the end of eternity- remains empty. Yet, when the Doctor’s eyes flutter open- pieces of moonlight streaming into the bedroom- a tender smile, under the fragments of yet another year, gaze at your pillow. The place where your head- the one which bore your mind, the mind he praised and eventually sought after in deep ardency- would have been.

Veritas stretches his hand out and sighs, allowing the receding tide of moonlight to consume him.

𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍

STAGE ONE: DENIAL

Each century blossoms and unfolds like a leaf; curling in on itself, one after another. Jing Yuan- the longest serving general, an immutable stream amongst jagged cliffs and tedious droughts- has navigated each trial and satisfaction with a placid smile and deep-set composure. Steadfast as the strike of thunder. Thus, as your body came to him- wrapped up in silk and satin, dressed for a place he could not reach- he did not waver, did not crumble, did not teeter on the tenacious line of undoing or succumb to an onslaught of hot, burning tears. No, he stood firm, feet planted into the ground, a series of complex roots. A system built from the movement of each dynasty; sailing into infinity.

None of those perdurable systems tumbled down at your cold, pale feet in either great armies of dust or strings of sorrowful defeat. In truth, the arbiter general was struck by another breed of anguish. A demand within himself that drowned in waters of tranquillity.

Why would his eyes not let him weep?

STAGE TWO: ANGER

Rumours are feisty beings, strangely tenacious until extinguished, lighting a spark under every tongue.

"Did you hear? The General's spouse-"

"If the Arbiter General can not ensure the safety of his own spouse, then perhaps it is time he retires-"

"Oh such sad news! I suppose even those with such strength are not privy to tragedy."

"I heard the order was under his command-"

Jing Yuan claws at the various papers strewn across his desk, his fingers twitching, chest heaving, the cord of his spine rattling-

He then breathes and settles into his chair, the whispers still reverberating in his head. The murmurs of others, though, most of his own.

STAGE THREE: BARGAINING

The infamous name- the Dozing General- could no longer be applied to Jing Yuan it seemed. Even Fu Xuan- in all of her astute and assiduous nature- observed how he toiled senselessly at the Seat of Divine Foresight; attempting to foresee fate and cut its wings before it could fly.

Nevertheless, the cadence of his voice reverberated the same. The winsome smile and regal prudence still lingered when addressing each official.

Yet, underneath- noted Fu Xuan- was a layer of unspoken words and evenings spent with wine and paperwork. While the twinkle, nestled within the golden brilliance of his eyes, dimmed ever so slightly. And perhaps, if seen under the silent beam of moonlight and incense, that same twinkle, vanished.

STAGE FOUR: DEPRESSION

A general has no time to weep.

"Are you the General Jing Yuan?"

Jing Yuan gazes down near his feet. There, a child- perhaps no older than seven- stands. Her eyes were large marbles of vast azure: wide, open, hungrily consuming the world around her.

A finite smile reaches his lips. "Yes, I am-" he crouches down to her height- "and you?"

The child giggles, a loud grin stretching across her face. "Do you know where Ms. (Name) is?"

Jing Yuan stops and his throat grows tight. His smile remains. "No, why do you ask?"

"She is going to teach me more about flowers!" bursts the child, stretching her arms out, revealing a small bouquet of chrysanthemums.

"Ms. (Name) said chrysanthemums mean happiness!" she chirps, "These ones are for you. Ms. (Name) often says giving flowers makes people feel good."

'She mixed them up,' muses Jing Yuan, his eyes depressing slightly, 'They are related to sadness.'

"Well... why thank you."

Jing Yuan observes the child run off, a gentle wind brushing against his hair. The bouquet of chrysanthemums clenched firmly in his fist

It is then, does Jing Yuan weeps.

The General is not seen at the Seat of Divine Foresight the following day.

STAGE FIVE: ACCEPTANCE

All existence reaches finality.

And yet, as Jing Yuan stood amongst rocking flowers and a grave of fireflies- their light illuminating the vast expanse of the valley- he heaves a languid, heavy sigh. Thus, muttering a string of inaudible sentences, whisking them away on a foreign planet only known by your flesh and tender bruised heart. Only known by the curve of your smile: as delicate as a moonbeam. And the air of your laughter: rich and gritty. Filled with sanguine songs and velvet kisses pressing and unfurling like the wings of a sparrow.

You took a flight to a distant star while Jing Yuan marked your coming and going. Wrote it on his calendar and etched it onto the tablet of his heart. For he was the dust behind your trailblaze, the chain of your necklace, the wind to your flight, the pause between your sentences. A visitor to your unfettered brilliance: a museum he spent hours enthralled with.

He'll meet you anew, as all existence reaches finality.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

STAGE ONE: DENIAL

Sunday does not experience denial.

He spares no time for denial, for moments in which the world spins on its axis, when there is a loss for words, or a deep enlarging numbness yet to be felt. Not a minute is untouched, not a stride wasted. Sunday will peel Penacony apart like the skin of an orange- the kind you delighted yourself in until he silenced the voices and brought justice down at your frigid feet. A mission, a goal, a veil, an excuse to not falter nor sway.

Maybe then- when the curtains close- will he succumb to the gelid embrace of denial.

STAGE TWO: ANGER

Sunday does not experience anger.

Anger- notes Sunday- is a vile entity: flashes of red and spurs of desire and whim. It is neither planned, calculated, or bound by probity and accord nor coiled around the neck: firm and unyielding.

Anger gives birth to chaos, destruction; painting the sky with the distinct strikes of mortal failure.

And yet, the white satin of Sunday’s gloves itch and kindle; rubbing against his skin, akin to burning flesh. He stands alone in the solitude of his office, the door fastened shut, he quivers, shakes, the chair tumbles to the floor, it cracks, shatters, breaks.

It is not Sunday- not the polished reputable image- for this Sunday could crush the Penacony he born from his bare hands, snap its spine in half, and observe it crash and burn: a raging lighthouse to the darkened universe. He’ll paint himself the image of destruction: a portrait bearing his features.

However, Sunday- the visage of a man known by the throng- will never bind himself to such acts.

Perhaps in a dream- within his innermost subconscious- he will.

STAGE THREE: BARGAINING

Sunday does not bargain.

Sunday is faithful. Streamlined with virtue and prose, his head held a touch higher than the rest; allowing him to dwell beyond the scope of a singular moment. For he peers into the valley of an endless dream.

Yet, does the Order taunt him? Does the Harmony know of his sweet dream? Perhaps it is punishment, a game, a test, a question.

Was that dream- born from a chance encounter, raised by long languid nights, cherished between the crevices of his chest- never destined to be his? Could not a sliver of joy- he pleaded- be made for him?

A selfish pursuit, he noted, even to the Aeons.

STAGE FOUR: DEPRESSION

Sunday does not experience depression.

However, Robin deduces otherwise.

The Sunday she knows will not linger around a room- your office to be exact- and trace the bumps and texture of the wall until it becomes embedded into the flesh.

The Sunday she knows will not gaze blankly at portraits, chairs, paperwork, people, the bottom of his glass cup where a hue of auburn glimmers before him. His feathers sulking in the bar's limelight.

The Sunday she knows will not be the image she knew last: not when you swept across Penacony's chess board, shoved pieces aside and allowed the lingering fragrance of freedom to overtake every knight and king. Not when you drew the corners of her brother's lips up into a kaleidoscopic smile; she viewed Sunday in colours she thought he could never be equipped to express. You were enigmatic, riddled with an unbound spirit, the kind which took you farther than any halo or set of wings. Therefore, bewildering Sunday in ribbons of muted laughter and fluttering wings.

It is no wonder she observed her brother- basking in soulglad- whispering your name, muttered in the solemn cadence of prayer.

STAGE FIVE: ACCEPTANCE

Sunday hopes, that he'll reach acceptance.

Nestled within the ladder of his chest, he still longs for the curves of your body and the shadow of your figure to emerge behind that doorway. For your voice to reverberate across the halls; a string of melodies and bygone memory. That, perhaps, you'll wrap the supple length of your arms across his chest and tilt your head in the manner it had been replayed in his head. While whispering those same terms: your warmth translates from every syllable and sentence.

When the dream has receded, he'll emerge anew. Strike his foot down onto the blanket of the universe, a city of stars and wait patiently, working meticulously, to capture your glowing visage in the golden hue of his iris.

masterlist.

[sayoneee]

☆ POISON

“miss her, kiss her, love her, wrong move you’re dead, that girl is poison” - bell biv devoe (2.2k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite! reader. acquaintances to friends to secretish lovers. silena + drew mentions. during tlt.

kashaf’s note: u cant tell me a group of teenagers lived together at summer camp and no one had secret parties. dont @ me for the 90s music references (+ i imagine avantika vandanapu as silena, and momona tamada as drew)

i. and if there was a problem / yo, i'll solve it

“CASTELLAN?” YOU APPROACHED him slowly, tone cautious as if you were speaking to a wounded animal, although in this case, maybe you were, as you reached for his bruised knuckles, remaining persistent, even as he tried to withdraw his hands out of your grasp. “why’d you do that?”

“did i need a reason?” there is a forced jocularity to his words, a well-practiced mask he is never seen without, and you cringe slightly, your gaze catching the grimace that twists his lips. his attempt at a ‘roguish’ grin falls flat, the expression a discordant note against the backdrop of his injuries. luke’s already busted lip splits open, a thin line of crimson carving a river down his chin. he moves to wipe it off the back of his arm, but you’ve already pulled off the bandana tying up your hair (a birthday present from a half-sibling) and begun rubbing at his face.

luke’s eyes widened at the gesture.

despite being tentative acquaintances since your arrival, you’re still annoyed that luke castellan continues to underestimate just how much of his heart he wears on his sleeve — or rather, just how well you manage to see past his facade. his blatant lie hangs in the air, unacknowledged. instead, you deliberately shift your gaze to the purples and blacks that mar his knuckles, setting about wrapping them with your bandana, obscuring the damage.

“i could’ve done that myself,” luke says, amused, his words lightly appreciative. still, at your answering glare, he tosses his hands in the air in surrender as ‘ice ice baby’ continues in the background, uninterrupted, “but thank you, though.”

“i’m no apollo kid, but it’ll do,” you shrug instead of accepting the gratitude, tugging him to his feet, ensuring to grab his uninjured hand, and hauling him outside. 

“you’re no apollo kid, and you decide to take the injured man away from where the apollo kids are actually gathered,” luke muses, once again entertained with himself (was there any other emotion this boy could experience besides amusement?), once the lights of the apollo cabin are so far behind you, neither of you could fully see each other.

“you’ll live,” you say, scowling at him through the darkness, forgetting he couldn’t actually see you.

“and you’re moody for a daughter of aphrodite,” he says, still holding onto your hand as he trails after you.

you stop in your tracks, pinch the bridge of your nose, count to three, and finally turn to luke, who still has his stupidly pleased-with-himself expression on his face. “luke castellan, if you don’t end up dying of some tragic fate or the other i will hunt you down myself.”

“duly noted.”

“holy hera, do you even want to know where i’m taking you?”

“nah, i think the mystery really adds some suspense.”

“that’s it, i give up,” you say, before beginning to drag him back to the apollo cabin, when he plants his feet in the dirt ground firmly, grinning crookedly at you as the moonlight finally shines through the clouds, suddenly bathing him in a luminescent glow.

“nah, c’mon, let’s go to your spot.”

you glare at him, watching how his stupid grin only seems to grow in size, an annoyingly endearing trait. with a sigh, you continued to drag him along, scowling each time he tried to make a quip.

“what if we get to your spot, and i find out this was all just a ploy to murder me?” luke muses out loud, looking thoughtful for once.

“do you seriously believe that if i was gonna murder you, i wouldn’t have done it by now?” you say, pausing when he shrugged in agreement, “we’re here though, whiney baby.” 

luke’s eyebrows rose as he took in the secluded area near the dunes, finally meeting your gaze again. “aw, i can’t believe you just planned out our first date.”

“i seriously don’t know what any of my half-siblings see in you.”

“so you’ve discussed me then.”

“shut up, i dragged you all the way here, because even though i know you like attention, i don’t think you wanted the attention you were getting from punching that poor hephaestus kid in the jaw,” you say shockingly sincerely, startling both yourself and luke.

luke doesn’t say anything, letting what seems like a confession hang in the air, instead, sits down near the water, and rubs a hand across his jaw, watching you as you follow suit, sitting next to him. 

after spending what seems like minutes in silence, watching the waves lap at the shore, luke finally speaks, staring out at the horizon, his tone slightly hollow, and devoid of all things you have come to label as luke castellan, looking eerily similar to the night he had returned from his infamous quest, “heroes aren’t meant to be happy.”

you drew your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head. “i know — achilles, orpheus, theseus…” you trail off.

“and hercules,” luke adds, almost melancholy. 

“i think i’ve pretty much accepted i’ll die young,” you say, your words coming out in nothing but a whisper despite the two of you being alone.

luke nods in solidarity, lost in thought. “it shouldn’t have to be like this,” he finally says, voice hardening.

ii. talking sweet and looking fine / i get kinda hectic inside

“okay, for this technique, i’ll need a partner,” luke says, looking straight at you. “can you come up here?”

deciding to oblige him, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly, smiling as you joined him in front of the other campers, who had begun whispering when he called out to you. in the crowd, just past your half-siblings looks of shock, you can see the stolls passing around a wad of cash. 

luke addresses the crowd once more, “i need everyone to be paying close attention here, we’ll be demonstrating how to parry, or counterblock for the newcomers.”

as both of you get into position, luke smiles, “don’t forget to go easy on me.”

you laughed, “don’t bet on it, castellan.”

your demonstration ends up feeling like eons, as the two of you continue to dance around each other, parrying and jabbing, and lunging, and striking, and parrying. both of you are panting, your faces flushed as you continue, and just when it seems like you have the upper hand, luke side steps, and easily parries your finishing blow, disarming you in the process.

you laugh as you yield, loving the exhilaration from the fight, but when the two of you face the campers once more, more than half of the crowd is slack-jawed. 

luke, ever the showman, can’t resist a grin, “not only was that your lesson to not underestimate aphrodite cabin, but also to show you the level we’re trying to get you guys to. now, partner up and spread out.”

before you can turn back to address luke again, drew is suddenly at your side. 

“what the fuck was that?” drew hisses, grasping your elbow and leading you away from the training session in full swing, pulling you into your cabin, where silena sits on your bed (still in her armor), clearly awaiting this impromptu confrontation.

“what was what?” you choose to feign innocence, examining your nails before glancing up to see the twin expressions of horror on both silena and drew’s faces. 

“do not act dumb,” drew eyes you coolly, “it’s so beneath you.”

“i’m not acting dumb,” you rolled your eyes at the both of them.

“yes you —”

“you and castellan,” silena interjects, “we want details, now.”

“what details even are there to give?”

silena grabs drew’s arm, pulling her back from apparently nearly pouncing on you. 

drew rolls her eyes at the hand on her arm, and then focuses on you, “you’re literally our next head counselor and you and castellan had never so much looked at each other until this week and now he’s asking you to help demonstrate training techniques, like hello?”

silena snapped her fingers in agreement, “c’mon, you can’t deny that something didn’t happen.”

“nothing did,” you crossed your arms across your chest.

“you know what,” drew says, “if you wanna be like this fine. come find me when you finally decide to — i don’t know — talk to your sisters?” she storms out of the cabin, leaving you alone with silena, who sighs, gives you an apologetic look and goes after drew. 

“well, that was a shit show.”

you whirl around to see your head counselor standing at the entry of the cabin, poised as ever, not a hair out of place as she stood, examining her manicure, looking bored, as usual. 

“couldn’t agree more,” you sigh, sitting on your bed, head in your hands. 

your head counselor takes a seat beside you, “look, i don’t care for whatever petty drama just unfolded, you’ll get over it, daughters of aphrodite and all,” she waves a hand in the air, “— but for now, we have more pressing issues. i’m gonna leave for college soon, and the entire cabin knows you’re my successor.”

you nod as she paused, meeting your gaze, and you can’t help but examine the perfect shape of her eyeliner, scanning her entire picture-perfect face in an attempt to discern her mood.

“i don’t care whatever it is you have going on with castellan, but you need to complete the rite of passage, before you become head counselor.”

“the rite of passage?” you asked, having only heard the phrase in hushed conversations around camp, the knot in your stomach tightening as she continued.

“no child of aphrodite is a true child of aphrodite without having broken their first love’s heart,” is all she offers as an explanation, completely straight-faced. “castellan is perfect for your rite of passage.”

your eyebrows furrow as you consider her words, and with a final nod, and gentle squeeze of your arm, she leaves you with both her legacy and your mother’s legacy in your hands. 

“oh, and before i forget, whoever doesn’t do it always ends up cursed.”

iii. now let me pray to keep you from / the perils that will surely come

luke’s shoulder brushing against yours has turned out to be extremely distracting, and now you can understand why your cabin is more notorious for breaking hearts, rather than falling in love. you can’t seem to focus on anything except how close his hand is to yours, even the golden hue of the fire or the sing-alongs can’t divert your attention. 

the distance between the two of you grows imperceptibly smaller when luke suddenly clears his throat, on the verge of saying something, when a twig snaps behind the two of you, causing you to jump apart and look at the intruder. 

annabeth is standing behind the two of you, looking faintly apologetic, but also terrified. “sorry if i interrupted you guys,” she offers, rubbing her arm.

you share a glance with luke, nodding at him. “you weren’t — luke can always talk to me later,” you say, offering her your trademark smile.

annabeth nodded, “thank you,” as luke gently squeezed your hand before getting up to comfort her.

“don’t thank me, sweetheart.”

you’re at your usual spot when luke rejoins you, running a hand through his curls. “sorry,” he says, “someone left a spider in athena cabin, and no one could kill it.”

you chuckled, “if it wasn’t a total accident, i’d bet money it was travis and connor.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up at the mention of his siblings, “i think you’re spending too much time around them to pick up on their habits.”

“or maybe, i’m spending too much time around you,” you offer, smirking at him, trying to ignore the funny feeling in your chest as he smiles genuinely at you.

“i like to say i’m an acquired taste,” luke shrugs, sneaking a glance at you as you laugh at him. 

“i think i’ve acquired that taste,” you say, without thinking, before realizing how phenomenally stupid that sounded.

luke smiled widely, “y’know, if you weren’t a daughter of aphrodite, i would’ve told you how corny that was —” you shoved him here, “— ow, let me finish, but i actually am really glad to hear that.”

“no wonder,” you smirked, “i can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest.”

“okay, look who’s confident all of a sudden.”

you shut him up with a soft kiss that has him seeing stars. 

iv. i know what’s weighing on your mind / you can be sure i know my part

“again, what the hell is going on with you and castellan?” silena asks one early morning before breakfast, birds chirping as she’s lining her eyes with kajal, glancing at the mirror in her hand as she sits at the top of her bed.

“nothing.”

“i literally saw you guys making out and had to scrub my eyes out with soap,” drew adds, looking extremely disgusted at the thought of relieving that experience, as she paints a fresh coat of nail polish. 

“fine, you’re right,” you concede, curling your eyelashes. 

“don’t you have to do the rite of passage, though?” drew asks, pausing to look up at you.

“i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you say slowly, setting the eyelash curler down on the vanity.

“excuse me?” your head counselor has her hands on her hips, the annoyed expression on her face marring her perfect features, towering over you as she stands in front of your bed.

“i said, i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you enunciate, looking up at her, maintaining eye contact.

the temperature of the cabin seemed to drop ten degrees, and for a minute or so, your stare remained unbroken until she shrugged. “your decision... but don’t say i didn’t warn you,” before dramatically whirling around and heading to the pavilion.

silena gave you a look as drew arched her brow, and you simply shrugged in response.

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[m-jelly]

Helllooo, Idk if u still do nsfw but can i request Levi x Reader smut? 😏(But mix it with fluff)

Levi and Reader have been dating in secret like nobody in the survey corps knew about them dating. Then Reader and Levi had smexyyy time at Levi's office then Hange accidentally bust the door open revealing the two couple and Hange squels in happiness because they ship Levi and Reader for so long and then Hange spread the knews like a wild fire xD (you decide the ending)

Shocking lover

Levi x fem reader

Canon world, smut, fluff, being a couple, being caught, angry and protective Levi.

While having a very intimate time with Levi on his desk, Hange unlocks Levi's door and lets herself in. She interrupts the two of you causing Levi to go into protective mode of you.

Your nails dragged over Levi's back as his cock pounded into your pussy. Your toes squeezed tightly as you felt blinded by pleasure. You pushed your fingers into Levi's hair and tugged a little. Seeing the Captain of the scouts fuck you speechless made your heart race. This strong man worshipped the ground you walked on and after you took his virginity, he was an unstoppable beast when it came to sex and lovemaking.

Levi yanked you closer to him before crashing his lips against yours. He moaned against your lips as his heart fluttered in his chest. He gripped your hips tightly as he bucked into you on his desk. The desk creaked and groaned under the power of his thrusts, it even began scraping across the floor and leaving marks.

You leaned your head back pulling from Levi's lips as you moaned out loud. "F-Fuck, Levi."

Levi attacked your neck with bites and kisses; your name was a sweet song on his lips. "I love you." He grunted as your walls clenched him. "I love you."

You shivered as you felt a pop and a trickle of an orgasm wash over you. "A-Ah, Levi. Mm, I love you too."

He panted and lay you back on his desk, your head hanging over the edge a little. "Shit, you look like a goddess." He eyed your breasts falling out of your bra and your shirt yanked open. He flicked his gaze to his cock pressed into you, he dragged himself out a little to see he was glistening with your arousal. "Tch, fuck that looks good."

You ran your fingers down his chest. You gripped his open shirt and yanked him down to you. "You always look good."

Levi blushed as he panted. "Tch, I still don't understand how I managed to get you as mine."

You smiled. "You were sweet, kind, funny, sexy and handsome." You cupped his face. "So cute." You hummed a laugh. "I can't believe you wanted me. I'm not much."

"You are the most perfect and stunning woman I've ever met. I adore you." He turned his head and kissed your hand. "I love you."

You massaged your fingers in his hair. "Levi, I love you so much. Now, please cum inside me."

He blushed hard. "Tch, yes miss." He dove for your breasts and began sucking and biting while he snapped his hips against yours. "Mm."

You tugged on his hair as you wrapped your legs around him. "A-Ah."

"Holy. Shit."

Levi slowly lifted his head from your chest, his hips stilled as he stared at his office door to see Hange standing there. "Tch, how the FUCK did you get in!? My office was LOCKED!"

She grinned. "Key."

He yanked you against him protecting you from her gaze. He held you close as he stood up. "You're supposed to fucking knock!"

"Sorry, but this is amazing! I knew you two were the perfect couple. I have to tell everyone!"

Levi stared as she slammed the door and left you both alone again. He released you a little and looked down at your flustered and embarrassed face. "I'm so sorry." He caressed your cheek. "That shouldn't have happened. I locked that door." He dragged himself out of you and checked you over. "I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you."

You smiled a little. "It's okay. It was bound to happen someday."

"I shouldn't have." He fixed the shirt for you. "Let me get you to the bath to clean up and I'll go murder Hange."

You hummed a laugh as Levi carried you to his bathroom. "No murdering."

"Bit of murder?"

"No."

He hummed. "Tiny bit?"

You laughed. "You're cute."

He helped you into the bath and handed you some cleaning things. "Thank you." He kissed your forehead and cleaned up quickly. "I'll be back later, my darling love, okay?"

You gripped the edge of the bath and leaned closer to him. "Don't hurt Hange too much, okay?"

He stared at you for a bit. "I can't promise that." He knelt and took your hand before showering it with kisses. "I loved you and I need to protect you. What Hange did to us was fucked up and wrong. You're incredibly important to me, so I need to put my foot down on her repeatedly."

You snorted a laugh. "Report it to Erwin. As a sorry we might get some leave, which means time together."

He gasped a little, delighted by your news. "Oh, you're right. I'll do that, but first I gotta kick her."

You patted his cheek. "Don't be too long, I want cuddles and you promised to cum in me."

Levi's pupils enlarged as arousal bubbled inside him. "I'll be fast."

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously @dreamerofthewest @abiatackerman @minminroie

[obito-in-disguise]

How is my fav writer doing on this fine day 😈😈 Could you write sukuna x reader where she’s sleeping on him and bro is a softie (playing with her hair and saying how much he loves her and stuff) cuz he thinks she’s asleep. but at the end turns out reader was awake so he gets kinda shy or he’s like stfu u didn’t hear nothing THANK YOU😘😘

I'm fine bae thank you for asking 😩 this is so sweet, I hope you like it!

| In your dreams |

Reader catches Sukuna being a softie x

The room was quiet, lit only by the fading light of the dark blue evening sky.

Sukuna lay on his back, one arm cradling her against his chest, the other propped up behind his head.

Her breathing was slow and steady, warm against his skin. He should’ve been asleep by now, but his mind wouldn’t rest, not with her tucked so perfectly against him.

He lets his eyes trace the gentle curve of her face, memorizing every peaceful detail. Without thinking, he dipped his head and presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. Once wasn’t enough. Another followed, softer, as though he feared waking her.

His hand wandered to her back, fingers gliding up and down in lazy strokes before moving to the back of her head, cradling it softly, messing with the soft tufts of hair there.

His brows furrow, pulling his expression into something almost pained.

“What did you do to me?” he whispered, the words barely audible. There was wonder in his voice, laced with disbelief at the depth of his own vulnerability. The King of Curses reduced to this, a man enamored beyond reason.

“I dunno...”

Sukuna froze. His hand stopped mid-stroke, his smile dropping along with his stomach as he stared down at her. “…What?”

Busted. Her eyelids fluttered, lips curling into a sleepy smirk. “I dunno,” she repeated, voice thick with drowsiness.

He tenses before immediately straightening his back, clearing his throat in a panic. “You’re such an active dreamer. Go back to sleep, Y/N.”

She blinked, confused. "What-"

“Shhh,” he cuts her off. “You were dreaming again. Go back to sleep.”

She can't help but snort at his weak cover-up. "No, I wasn’t."

"Yes you were"

“I literally felt you messing with my hair-”

“Dream” he insists firmly, the word coming out with a little too much force. “All of it.”

Her soft giggles sound out as she opens her mouth to tease him more.

He grunts, rolling them over before she can speak, trapping her underneath him. "Shut up. Go back to sleep, or I'll crush you."

She wraps her arms around him, wiggling to get comfortable. “If it'll make you feel better sap.”

This was the part where he'd pinch her or flick her nose for calling him a sap but he simply stares down at her, waiting for her to fall back asleep.

His chest tightened in that way it always did when she was this close. His thumb brushed her cheek gently before he leaned down, placing another soft kiss to her forehead once he was absolutely sure she was asleep.

“Whatever" he muttered under his breath, sighing. "I’ll be a sap for you.”

He shuts his eyes, the steady rhythm of her breathing lulling him to sleep.

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