#walking waste of bandages is so real

[uzi-x33]

WHY ARE THEY SUCH GOOFY GOOBERS

[transmunsons]

Eddie teaches Steve how to fight. The Munson name might be good for nothing but they were a scrappy lot. Eddie learned early how to throw a punch. His dad said real boys knew how to fight, so put your whole body into it, twist your hips.

Eddie had heard King Steve got his face beat in by the Byers kid. Also heard he might’ve deserved it. And that Byers got off with hardly a scratch. But none of that was his business. He was just trying to graduate.

The second time Steve showed up to school with a face full of bandages, he took pity on him. This time he’d apparently gotten into a fight with that mouthy new kid, the one who gave Jeff the heebie jeebies. They ended up in detention together and Eddie leaned into his space and asked some questions, like “how come you get beat up more than my ducklings?”

Apparently the pretty rich boy had never learned how to defend himself, never needed to. What a waste of muscles. Which is how Eddie ended up giving Steve a lesson in the middle of Ms. Pratt’s room. Keep your fists up, turn your body so you’re a smaller target, shift your weight to your toes, and if you need to: scream.

“What?” Steve lowered his hands, bewildered.

“Yeah, man, just scream.” Eddie said. “At the worst, it’ll give you a second while they’re confused and at best they’ll think you’re nuts and disengage entirely. It’s a win-win scenario.” He shrugged.

“Is that how you fight?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed my reputation around here, Harrington, but half the school wouldn’t touch me with a rainbow colored pole and the other half thinks I’m straight up insane. No one’s gonna fight a crazy person, ‘cause crazy people might just kill ya.”

“Thanks for the advice.” Steve remarked. He packed up the singular sheet of homework he’d tried to do.

“No problem, that face is too pretty to be marked up all the time.”

But Steve couldn’t stay out of trouble for long.

Eddie was trying to see if the new mall theater was as easy to sneak into as the Hawk when he passed by some teens in sailor costumes slumped by a water fountain. One of them pointed at him as he walked by.

“Munson! It worked!”

[fatkish]

Dabi x Hawk Hybrid Keigo x Falcon Hybrid Reader NSFW

Dabi or Touya, runs the aviary section of Endeavor Farms

Keigo has been particularly restless since he’s gone through several mating seasons without a real partner

It’s been up to Touya to help him through it and act as his mate every spring

That winter, when Touya was informed of another bird of prey hybrid that was recently found and was in need of a home, he jumped at the chance to get you to his farm

When you arrived, Touya saw the bandages on your wing. When he asked, they said you had been used in hybrid falconry competitions and sustained a small fracture in one of the bones in your right wing

Realizing you couldn’t fly, your previous owner simply abandoned you since you couldn’t make him money in falconry

Touya helped you into the aviary and told you about Keigo, he explained that he wants you to try and help Keigo through his mating season every spring

You had told Touya that you had a low fertility and that was the reason why your previous owner abandoned you, since you could barely lay any eggs due to you almost being infertile

Touya told you not to worry about that since Keigo just needs a warm hole to stick it in

When Keigo caught your scent his feathers immediately started bristling and he started trilling and cooing. He immediately began cleaning his room/area and began to construct the most comfortable and secure nest he could build

He couldn’t wait to see his new potential mate. He was so excited he was practically shaking

When Touya opened the door to Keigo���s room, Keigo immediately began flirting with you and trying to get your attention

When Keigo saw the bandages on your wing he immediately paused and growled, as Touya took Keigo aside to explain things to him, you began to look around and eventually settled into the nest and took a nap after having traveled so long to get to the farm

Keigo saw you sleeping in the nest and started purring. He walked over and laid beside you, covering you with his wings

As the weeks passed and you and Keigo got along, the time to remove the bandage from your wing came

As Touya unwrapped your wing, you gave a few experimental flaps before taking flight. Touya watched you as you flew through the sky. Keigo decided to join you and flew right by your side

Soon winter came to an end as Keigo was getting particularly fussy. Constantly preening both yours and his wings. Making sure the nest was perfect and adding blankets and pillows wherever he saw fit

As the snow melted, Keigo finally had what he always wanted. The perfect mate to give him children.

Spurred by his instincts and hormones, one day, after having made sure you had eaten and were cozy, he jumped on top of you and began kissing and making out with you

He grabbed at your chest and pinched at your nipples, biting your neck and growling. His hands slid down to your hips as he grabbed fistfuls of your ass.

Spreading your legs he dove his face between them and began to devour you. Licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh and purring at the taste. He then shoved two fingers into your hole as he scissored them, stretching you

After throughly enjoying you, he flipped you over onto your hand and knees as he prepared to spear you on his dick

As he shoved his cock into your slicked hole, you nearly screamed in pleasure as his thick cock ploughed through your insides. As he began thrusting while holding your hips, the door opened and Touya walked in

You could see the tent in his pants as he walked up to you. He smiled down at you as he began to unzip his jeans and pull himself out

“Look at you, such a pretty little mess. Is Keigo f~~~ing you good? Look at you drooling, I should put that mouth to use, huh?”

He then shoved his cock into your mouth as you chocked slightly, your eyes rolling back some as Touya began to thrust in time with Keigo

“Hey pretty bird, make sure to fill ‘em up nice and full. Don’t waste a single drop, I brought a plug to keep all your precious cum inside them… oh, yeah,… keep sucking, just like that.”

Touya started to groan as Keigo’s thrusts quickened and deepened. Keigo growled as he bit at your neck and stated pounding away as deep as he could

“That’s it Kei, such a good boy, fill ‘em up nicely now and breed ‘em. I want to see some eggs soon, don’t you. You’re gonna be such a good dad, you’re such a loving and caring partner. You want his cum inside you, don’t ‘cha birdie? Go on, tell Keigs how much you want his cum to fill you up”

“I-I I want it, ple-please, please g-give me your cum! I w-want you t-to fill me up, make me y-yours. Please K-Keigo!”

That was all it took before Keigo slammed your head into the nest and began thrusting like his life depended on it. With this new angle, Keigo hit your spot with every slam of his hips. You came so hard as you screamed in ecstasy.

After a few more harsh thrusts, Keigo slammed into you one last time as he leaned over you, cover you with his wings as he filled you with his hot seed.

Panting, as his cock drained his spend into you, he grabbed the plug from Touya before pulling out afterwards, shoving the plug deep inside your sensitive, dripping channel, pulling a final groan from you

Throughly exhausted, you laid down in the nest before falling asleep. Only to wake up 30 minutes later to Keigo already back at it

[specialagentlokitty]

Aizawa x reader - fixing us

Yawning a little, you stretched as you rolled off your couch and picked up your phone.

You had a few missed messages from your friends, a few missed calls from your producer, and an email from UA which caught your attention.

You didn’t have a quirk, and you weren’t a pro hero, so why would the most prestigious hero school in Japan be emailing you?

Giving the email a Quick Look over, you saw it was an invitation to play a few songs during the lunch break at their sports festival, and a call to your producer confirmed this email as real and not some sort of scam.

You didn’t have to take too long to think about it, you had never attended UA as a teen, so you never saw what it was like, and you had always even curious, so you immediately accepted.

That’s how you found yourself standing in the middle of UA a month later, being shown around by the principal as he took you to where you could wait and watch the sports festival.

“Jeez, I never thought I’d see the day I’d be stood inside UA.”

Nezu laughed slightly, clasping his paws together as he looked up at you.

“It’s a spectacular sight is it not? And I know many of our students are excited to see you preform live, along with a few of the staff.”

You grin a little as you carry on following him.

“That’s one tough crowd to impress, gotta say I’m excited to preform for the future heroes, hopefully give them something to relax and ease up too.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it no issue it all!” Nezu beams.

He leads you to the teachers commentators box and gestures to it.

“You should have the best view in here! And you’ll be accompanied by two of our very own commentating on the sports festival! They should arrive soon, and they are aware of your presence. If you need anything at all don’t hesitate to ask!”

“Thank you very much!”

Nezu offers you a bright smile before he leaves.

You smile as you look around, standing in front of the large glass window.

It definitely was a great view of the field, and the screens so any events that weren’t taking place in the stadium you still had a perfect view to watch them.

As you were looking around the door opened again and you turned around, a grin slowly forming on your face when you saw who it was.

“No way! It can’t seriously be you!”

“Hizashi!” You laugh.

The pro hero wasted no time in rushing over to pull you into a bone crushing hug, and he laughed loudly as he spun you around a few times before setting you back down on the ground.

“It’s been years (Y/N)!”

Hizashi punches your shoulder lightly.

“Why didn’t you ever call?!” He pouts.

You laugh softly, shaking your head at him.

“Because somebody changed his number and never gave him his new one, and NEVER replies to messages on social media.”

He grins sheepishly.

“Okay, okay, that’s my fault. Oh Aizawa is here too!”

Your eyes widen slightly at the mention of that name.

It had been years since you saw Hizashi, even longer since you last saw Aizawa, not since you guys had an explosive argument and the worst part was you couldn’t even remember what it was about.

“You’re kidding? Aizawa? A teacher?”

Hizashi grinned and nodded his head.

“Yup! He’ll be here in a minute!”

Your eyes widen a little as he says that, and as if on cue the door is pushed open, and a very heavily bandaged Aizawa walks through.

He grumbles to himself as he walked in and paused the moment he saw you, his eyes widening just slightly.

“Jeez, you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

Aizawa huffed, rolling his eyes at you as he walked over to sit down at his chair.

“Shut up.”

Hizashi laughed, patting your shoulder and he looked at you, taking in your ear piercings, and he stepped back, crossing his arms.

Copying his posture, you raised a brow in question.

“Tattoos? Piercings?” He asked with a slight hint of confusion.

You laugh sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head.

At the mention of tattoos and piercings Aizawa looked over, looking at the coloured ink that covered your arms, the piercings that lined your ears.

“I forget it’s not really normal here, I guess I’ve been living in the states for that long im so used to how they do things there now.”

Hizashi hummed a little in understanding.

“Well it suits you!” He beamed.

He grinned at you, giving you a knowing look as he sat down in his chair to start the commentary.

You stand between him and Aizawa, listening to what they’re saying and explaining.

While you were stood there Aizawa would occasionally look at you, studying the tattoos that he could see on your arm.

A tiger, some flowers trailing down a vine along your arm, some lyrics to a few of your songs.

He still hasn’t said much to you, and you hadn’t really engaged in conversation with him either, but as lunch came around you headed to get ready for your show.

While Hizashi went to get lunch Aizawa got ready to take a nap.

He was already half asleep when your show started, and he found himself lifting his head a little bit looking down at the stage cementoss had created for you.

He had never admitted it to you or anybody but he enjoyed listening to your singing back in middle, and he sometimes found himself listening to your music when he was alone grading his papers.

He could see you having the time of your life, a huge smile on your face as the crowd cheered and whistled.

You only played a few songs before you headed back inside so they could get the stadium ready for the next events, and that’s where you found Aizawa standing in the hallway waiting.

“Aizawa?”

He lifts his head slightly, letting your gaze.

“Can we talk?” He mutters, gesturing to a nearby waiting room.

With a heavy sigh you follow him, and he stands in front of the door once you’re both inside to stop you from leaving, or other people entering.

Aizawa sighs a little, looking at you as you sit down on the table.

“I never thought you’d be the type to get tattoos…” he mumbled.

You raise a brow at him.

“We’ve not spoken in nearly 10 years and you want to talk about my tattoos?”

“No… I just… I don’t know…”

He sighed, leaning against the door and closing his eyes for a moment before he opened them again.

He walked over, sitting next to you on the table with a small huff of pain.

“Look (Y/N) I’m sorry okay…? For everything I said back then, I was stupid, and immature, and I wasn’t thinking.”

With a sigh, you look down at your hands and he looks down at them as well.

“I really do like your music by the way…”

“You, Shouta Aizawa, like my music? You don’t listen to music.”

He rolls his eyes.

“I’m trying to be nice here and you’re making it impossibly hard.”

You grin a little bit at him.

“Call it payback.”

“Why the hell are you so stubborn?”

You simply offer him a small shrug, and he sighs, shuffling a little before resting his head on your shoulder.

He used to do this a lot, he wasn’t much of a physical contact person, but it was no secret to you and Hizashi that Aizawa found comfort in you, and felt relaxed with you.

Reaching up, you carefully place a hand on his bandaged cheek.

“You know, technically we never broke up.” He mumbled.

“Oh my god…” you laugh.

“It’s true, you never actually said the words ‘we are finished’.”

“Seriously? You’re gonna start that now? That we’ve still somehow been dating this whole time?”

“Well have you been seeing anyone else?”

You stay quiet for a moment.

“Shut up…”

This earns you a small rare chuckle from him.

“So there you have it, still dating.”

“You’re so stubborn…”

He hums in agreement, shuffling a little to get more comfortable resting against you.

“You’re mine forever…” he mumbles.

With a soft sigh, you turn and kiss the top of his head.

“You’re so stubborn Shouta…”

He lifts his head a little.

“Before you fully end things between us just give me one more chance, that’s all I’m asking, one more.”

“One more chance.”

He lets out a content sigh, resting his head back on your shoulder.

He’d been trying to figure out how to fix things between you for years but he could never bring himself to reach out to you, now was his chance and he wasn’t about to mess up again

[carooosa]

Enchanting Distractions

Summary: Tav (reader) has ADHD/is bad at setting boundaries when it comes to their party members. Astarion comforts them.

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: Semi-canon compliant, takes place after the tiefling party and literally right before entering Act 2. I barely proofread it so sorry in advance. I was feeling particularly upset at myself today and so this is what I wrote up.

The days had been starting to blur together as you made your way through the mountain pass. Tomorrow your party would step into the shadow-cursed lands, so it was decided to set up camp early for the night to ensure that everyone was well-rested and prepared. Tension ran through the camp, everyone on edge with the possibility of finding the cause of the tadpoles. Whatever happens tomorrow could very well be the end of your journey.

As everyone set up their tents, you began to look through your supplies, separating potions, arrows, and scrolls into piles to give to your companions. While organizing everything, the sound of Lae’zel and Shadowheart bickering caused you to lift your head. They had never gotten along since the beginning of this tadpole mess but after the Githyanki Creche their hatred for each other seemed to amplify.

“I would say that I’m surprised that machine was unable to get rid of the tadpoles, but then again, I wouldn’t expect gith to know what they were doing,” Shadowheart had taunted Lae’zel.

“The zaith'isk was tampered with! Githyanki technology is far beyond your understanding, and if you had something other than a tadpole in your brain, you would realize the mistake in your words,” Lae’zel shot back. She turned to herself before saying, “Useless istik, mindlessly following a false god”

“What did you just say?” Shadowheart said as she readied herself to attack.

“Your ‘goddess’ ordered you to steal a precious artifact from my people, and yet knowing that does not change your unwavering belief. A goblin has more integrity than you,” Lae’zel said as she continued to walk away.

“Shar is a real goddess, unlike the githyanki’s petty attempt at a goddess, Vlaakith,” Shadowheart yells as she begins to sprint toward Lae’zel. The fighter had already pulled out her sword and the clashing of metal rang through the air. You sighed, standing up from the mess that laid out before you, and ran towards the fight. Before you could intervene, Karlach had taken her great axe and held it out in between the two aggressors before berating them.

“For fuck’s sake guys, the whole point of setting up camp early was to rest for tomorrow, not argue and waste our energy on dumb fights.” As Karlach said this, Shadowheart cast gust of wind to push her opponent back, accidentally hitting Karlach in the crossfire. She had succeeded at causing Lae’zel to lose her grip on her sword but had caused that sword to slash into Karlach’s leg. The tiefling groaned as she kneeled to the ground, clutching her thigh.

You ran back to your bag and turned it upside down, dumping all the contents onto the piles you had started to make earlier, and rummaged through your items until you found a healing potion and some fire-resistant bandages. When you ran over to Karlach to heal her, Wyll was already yelling at the two women who had caused an unnecessary injury.

“Your recklessness has caused this bloodshed!” he sounded exasperated as you handed Karlach the potion, unraveling the bandages and starting to dress her wound, careful to not burn yourself in the process. “You both are distracted by your own prejudices and disdain for each other that the thought you may be hurting others in the process never crossed your minds. So caught up in yourselves, you have yet to see the irony of the words you throw at each other.”

Wyll continued his lecture as you focus on Karlach, watching her toss aside the empty potion bottle. “Thanks, soldier,” she says with a weak smile. She pushes herself off of the ground, causing Wyll to pause his lecture and rush to her side. “I’m fine, just gonna head to bed early,” she says while sidestepping past him.

You take a breath and start to think of how to address the situation that just happened when suddenly, Gale is by your side, anxiously fumbling with his hands. Realization overcame you and you tried to recall the last time you had given the wizard an enchanted item to consume the magic from. 

“I know now might not be the best time,” he starts, “but there really never is a good time nowadays, is there?” he finishes with a chuckle to himself.

“I should have an enchanted ring in my bag—“ you stop when you glance back at your backpack, contents strewn across the ground.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Gale says quickly. “Dinner isn’t going to cook itself!” He makes his way to his tent and you drag your feet back to your backpack, dreading the mess you’ll have to clean up. Sifting through the items, you create another pile of the things you already looked through. Focused on organizing, you don’t hear Astarion sneak up on you.

“My my, these are quite the… piles you have here,” he says while crouching down across from you. “What’s with all these arrows and grenades? Have you decided to try your hand in ranged combat? Because if so,” he pauses, crimson red eyes staring into your soul, “I’d be more than happy to give you some private lessons.” He bares his teeth, his fangs glistening. You’re tempted to take him up on the offer before you remember why you got those items in the first place.

“Oh, those aren’t for me. I’ve been picking up stuff here and there, and I figured before heading out tomorrow I’d give some to everyone. I was actually organizing everything,” you say, completely forgetting that you were looking for a ring, “and I was going to try and figure out what would be best for everyone to have, but since you’re here, you can pick whatever you want.”

“I can choose anything here?” Astarion asks with a smirk. You nod your head and he responds by picking up your hand and giving it a kiss on the palm, “Then I pick you, my dear.”

Your cheeks flush red as you stutter out a response. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Astarion had been teasing you a lot more lately, and while you didn’t mind, it had proven to be an extra distraction. 

He chuckled at your pout, caressing your face with his other hand, his thumb pressing down on your lower lip. You both stare at each other for a moment, before he sighs and brings his hands back to his side. “Well, if I can’t have you I guess I need to figure something else out.” He scans over the pile and picks up a necklace.

“Wait, not that,” you say while snatching the jewelry away from him. “That can restore one of Shadowheart’s spells, I should go give that to her.” You stand up and run off to find the cleric, not noticing the disgruntled look Astarion has on his face. He sighs and looks down at the clutter, beginning to sift through the items.

While making your way to Shadowheart’s tent, you hear Halsin comfort a whining Scratch. “There, there, I’m sure we will retreive it soon enough,” the druid says while gently petting the dog. “Ah, Tav, could I bother you for a moment? Scratch seems to have lost his ball in a burrow and neither of us can reach it. Would mind seeing if you can grab it?”

Scratch runs up to you and paces around you in circles before you lean down to him, “Of course I’ll help you out, buddy.” Without thinking, you set the necklace on a nearby rock, crouching down to the burrow and searching for the ball. In the shadows you spot it, deep inside the tunnel, and you reach your arm in. 

Your fingers are barely able to reach the toy, and you’re about to maneuver the ball out when Gale speaks. “Tav, I’m terribly sorry to ask again, but were you able to find the enchanted ring perchance?” The ball rolls out of your grasp, and you let out a long sigh before retracting your arm.

“Sorry, Gale, I got distracted. As soon as I get this ball out for Scratch I’ll go and get it for you.” Content with that answer he nods and walks off. Reaching your hand back into the hole, you push yourself against the ground, the extra leverage closing the distance between your hand and the toy. You let out a breath before throwing the ball, Scratch bounding after it.

“Thank you, Tav!” Halsin says as he runs after the dog.

Walking back to where Astarion sits rummaging through your things, Wyll interrupts you. “Tav, do you by chance have a fire resistance potion? I was wanting to give Karlach these flowers to cheer her up,” he says, holding the bouquet in front of him sheepishly. Although Wyll and Karlach had been foes in Avernus, they’re relationship was slowly blossoming into a gentle romance.

“That’s very sweet of you, Wyll. I should have one in my stuff.” You both head over to the piles of items that Astarion had started to organize. It would be nice to have someone think about me like Wyll thinks about Karlach, you ponder as you bend down next to Astarion, grabbing the fire resistance potion that sat buried within the clutter. “Here you go,” you hand Wyll the potion, “I think those will make her very happy.”

Wyll says a quick thanks as he opens the potion with his teeth, hastily pouring the contents over the bouquet and heading off to Karlach’s tent. Clearing his throat, Astarion asks “Did Shadowheart enjoy your gift?” he says with a slight frown and a twinge of annoyance in his voice.

“My what?”

He stares at you for a second, before elaborating, “The necklace? The one that you oh so rudely snatched from my hands.” He watches as your face scrunches up tightly trying to remember what he’s talking about before you gasp.

“The necklace!”

“Yes, the necklace,” he sighs.

“Where did I put it?” you say as you frantically pat down your pockets.

Astarion starts to tease you again, “Really, darling, how could you misplace something like that? I thought that necklace was important after you had yanked it out of my hand and ran off to Shadowheart.” He’s chuckling to himself when he notices the genuine frustration that is starting to seep off of you.

“I just had it. I was holding it in my hand. Where could I have put it?” you mutter to yourself, your breath starting to quicken. Dread creeps through your chest as you begin to mentally retrace your steps. “Think, dammit, think!” Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes, a lump taking place in the back of your throat. Astarion stood up and reached his hand tentatively towards yours, squeezing it gently to try and bring you back to the present.

Gale had made his way back over to you, seeing that you were near your things. “I hate to interrupt this touching moment, but I really do need that ring if you have it,” He says while clutching his chest. Astarion glares daggers at the wizard who is either oblivious or purposely ignoring your stress, but you don’t notice as your mind has drifted off.

Right, you think to yourself, I came over here to look for the ring. Without saying a word, you push away Astarion’s hand and sink to the ground, aimlessly pushing around everything trying to find the ring. Astarion studies you, the way your hands seem to be searching for the relic while your eyes glaze over and stare at nothing, until your hand brushes over the small golden circle and you grasp it firmly. You sigh and recollect yourself before turning around and jumping up to Gale, handing him the ring with a forced smile and laugh. “Sorry for the delay! I’ve been so forgetful lately.”

He takes the ring from your hand, clutching it tightly while absorbing the magic into his chest. When he opens his hand, the ring is broken into two. “Ah, apologies. Dinner should be finished soon. Thanks again,” he says with a bow before leaving.

You sigh before returning to the pile, starting to organize it once again. From the outside, people would assume that you’re just forgetful and easily distracted, most even finding your frantic and hectic demeanor cute. You can’t help but feel like a burden, requiring constant reminders to stay on task, feeling like you need to rely on others instead of yourself. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, either, but no matter how many times you repeated tasks to yourself, how many times you had written down what needs to be done, how many times you had try to will focus into your mind, nothing changed. It's always been like this, and now with the stress of the unknown ahead, you’ve been getting distracted more.

Astarion watches you, determined to organize the mess on the ground. When he first met you, you had brushed off your forgetfulness and laughed along with anyone who had made a joke at your expense. It had annoyed him to no end when you would walk into the same room, multiple times, that you had just looted. This aloofness only seemed to grow after you both had come to an agreement that Astarion could drink your blood in order to satiate his thirst, the only side affect being your increased mind-wandering.

After another 30 minutes of watching you return to the same room over and over to loot, he had decided that you both would search the rooms together, if nothing else to lessen the time it took at each town. He didn’t expect that during the extra, private time you both were now spending together he would begin to grow fond of you. While he would be working on a lock of a chest, you would grab a book and immediately become immersed in it. At first, he would use this time to pocket the most valuable items found in whatever container he had just opened, but as time went on, he had started to ask you questions about what you were reading.

It had caught him off guard when you looked up at him with excitement in your eyes as you explained the gossip in the diary you found, and he couldn’t help but become intrigued himself. Quickly, a new routine had started: while Astarion would loot and lockpick whatever he could get his hands on, you would find diaries, notes, and books to read outloud. He would respond to the especially vulgar and outlandish things you would recite with theatrical gasps and awes. One time, you had stumbled across a particularly sad letter from a person who begged their lover to wait for them, only for their lover to respond that they had never returned. A choked sob had escaped your lips when you finished the letter, and Astarion had quickly called you over to distract you.

“It’s about time that you learn how to use one of these,” he said while he pushed a lockpick into your hands. “If you’re going to stare at me while I do all the work, you may as well get something out of it.” He had been joking, but you hadn’t taken it that way. A wave a guilt and embarrassment had washed over you as you resolved to force yourself to learn what he was teaching you. It was all in vain, however, as every ten minutes when he would ask you to demonstrate, your hands would clam up and your mind would go blank.

“Darling, is it really that hard to focus? Or am I just that distracting, hm?” he had joked.

You wouldn’t look into his eyes, instead you had begun to fumble with the lockpick in your hands. “I’m sorry,” you had whispered, “I’m really trying.”

You had expected him to berate you or to even make a joke about how useless you were, but instead he had sighed and positioned himself behind you, placing his hands over yours as he talked you through the steps, yet again, of lockpicking. When you had heard the final click of the lock, you quickly turned to look at the man who had helped you. Inches away from each other’s faces, he smiled softly and brought one of his hands up to your cheek as he placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

“See? You can focus,” he had said while giving you a tight squeeze.

The sound of your sigh brought him back to the present, and he stared at you for a moment before asking, “Do you want me to go and look for the necklace while you do this?” You stop moving things around and just sit there, defeated. The necklace had completely slipped your mind, just like the ring. Your body begins to shake as tears run down your cheek. Astarion slowly kneels next to you, grabbing the potions and arrows from your hand and setting them off to the side. “Hey, it’s alright. Shh-shh-shh, there’s no need to ruin that beautiful face of yours.”

You start to sob quietly. Why was this so difficult for you? You were able to talk your way out of situations, fight enemies with ease, and coordinate a fighting strategy that used everyone to the best of their abilities, yet you were unable to do such simple things. You draw your hands to your eyes, pressing harshly into them to try and stop the tears that fall out. Astarion gingerly moves his arms around you in a hug, as gentle as he can muster as to not startle you. He squeezes you tightly and you stay like that for a while, before you’re able to croak out a simple question that leaves a pain in his chest.

“What’s wrong with me?” You move your hands away from your face and turn your head to look at him, expecting to see frustration in his eyes but instead finding something softer. It looks as if he’s genuinely concerned. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Tav,” he says quietly, barely above a whisper.

“Then why,” you say with trembling words, “why can’t I do such simple things? Why is it so difficult for me to remember what I’m doing, to not get distracted?”

Astarion sighs as he looks at you with his big, round eyes. “You are capable of much more than you know, my sweet. You were designated the leader for a reason. You’re brave, witty, and above all else, kind. You are so sickenly kind and patient with everyone, yet you don’t afford yourself the same grace,” he says as he rubs circles into your back. “You’ve been kind to those that don’t deserve it, but you’re never kind to yourself.”

“Thank you,” you reply meekly. You hated crying in front of your companions, but you found that you didn’t mind being comforted by Astarion.

“Besides, darling,” the vampire joked,” It’s hardly your fault that you keep getting distracted when there are six adult children who need constant supervision.”

“Don’t you mean seven?”

He pulled away from you with a gasp. “I think I am more than capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much.”

“Oh, if that’s the case, you don’t need to see me for blood anymore then, right?” you teased.

Astarion squinted at you before his eyes softened and he pulled you into his arms again. You both sat like that for a while before he spoke, barely above a whisper, “I don’t only need you for blood.” Before you can respond, Gale’s call to dinner causes Astarion to push you up. “Go on, enjoy dinner.” You start to protest and gesture to the mess that still needs to be cleaned up before he cuts you off, “I’ll take care of it.” As he begins to sort through the items, he catches your eye before you leave. 

“I hope you know that I’m still expecting to see you tonight,” he says with a sultry voice. If you hadn’t gotten closer recently, you would take what he says at face value, a meaningless flirt to rile you up. But beneath his smirk you can see a hint of sadness in his eyes.

It will need to wait for another time as your stomach grumbles, and you remember that you had forgotten to eat lunch that day. You say a quick thank-you before running off to join the rest of the party, feeling more at ease about the adventure that lay before you.

[bookshelf-dust]

the bad shit

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 1,192

warnings: swearing, possible allusions to depression, brief mention of death, a tiny finger injury, comfort

a/n: my brain does not seem to be in a writing mood right now, but i did manage to crank this out. i do enjoy making billy cry, so there’s that. i hope it’s alright! please let me know what you think. i’d really appreciate it. <33

————

Billy’s been fidgety since he woke. 

You hear the soft thud of his boots, muffled against the carpet of your bedroom floor. He makes his way towards you and kisses your forehead, knowing you’re probably too sleepy for a real kiss this early.

He doesn’t tell you how badly he needs one—that his hands are shaking with it. Though he doesn’t need to tell you. 

You’d heard his alarm clock go off, felt him stay in bed longer than usual, glimpsed him rubbing his face on the way to the bathroom. He hadn’t wanted to get up. Not one bit. 

And even though you can feel sleep calling you, feel the way it presses at your eyes, the way the warmth of the bed pulls you in—you sit up. 

Billy’s closer to the door now, but he hears you shuffle, and he’s quick to move back to you. 

“You need to sleep, baby.”

But your hands are already on his cheeks, and then you’re kissing him, shutting him up and telling him you’re right here. And you’ll be right here when he gets home from work. You’ll be a phone call away if he needs you during his shift. 

“I’ll walk you out,” you say, and your tone informs him that there’s no room for arguments.

You hook your fingers in his belt loops as you push off the bed, hoping that this will keep your half-asleep form from slamming into the wall. 

You kiss Billy again on the stoop, even if he is berating you for being barefoot in the cold. You watch him walk to the car, catch the way his fingers fumble with the keys, the way he doesn’t even have it in him to slam the door shut. 

He waves at you from behind the steering wheel.

“I love you,” you mouth, blowing a kiss. He’s quick to catch it in his hand, gesturing so that he’s tucking it away in his pocket for later. He responds just as he always does, but you can tell he’s still sleepy. 

That he’s tired. 

————

You aren’t home when Billy gets back to the house. There’s a note on the counter in your sweet scrawl, telling him that you ran out to pick up dinner. Eating at all had completely slipped his mind. 

Billy’s just having a day. He’d wanted to stay home but couldn’t, and not only has he been fidgety, unable to focus for want of home, of you, but his thoughts are getting the better of him. They’re suffocating. Telling him he’s not good enough for you, that he’s a waste of time—of your time. That he should’ve died like he was supposed to in that fucking mall. 

And he knows it isn’t true. He knows that you loved him before any of that, when he was just being an asshole, when he was just pissed that he’d had to move. And you love him now, even when he has bad days like this. 

But his head. His mind. It tells him otherwise. It fights and it claws and it screams at him. And today he is losing that fight, letting his mind yell and tear at him. 

Billy tries to distract himself and wash the dishes, but he only gets so far before he drops something and almost breaks it, before he cuts his finger on a knife he put in the damn sink. After that he tries to find a band-aid but spills all of them on the floor, and the first one he opens gets stuck on the wrapper and he can’t use it. 

Once he does secure the pink bandage around his pinky, he goes to clean up his mess and hits his head on the counter. He tries to change clothes and trips, gets his belt loop stuck on a drawer handle. 

“God fucking dammit.”

After that one he gives up and throws himself on the kitchen floor, choosing a beer with a pull tab rather than a cap for fear he might actually hurt himself and bleed out.

He hears the sound of you locking your car, the door squeaking when you open it, and he knows he should’ve gotten up to help you, but he just couldn’t. He starts to cry. 

“Billy? Where’s my baby?” 

The sound of your voice causes him to hiccup, and you’re on the floor in front of him in a matter of seconds. 

He’s covering his face with his hands, and you know then that the day must’ve gotten the better of him. 

“Hey, let me see you. It’s okay, honey, I’m right here.”

Billy looks up at you, lashes clumped together with tears, nose red and lips all swollen. He looks so frustrated with himself, so beat, that you ache for him. 

He wishes he was stronger. That he wasn’t breaking down in the middle of the kitchen, but you told him once that it’s okay to have bad days. That you're always going to be there on the worst ones. 

He puts the beer down the moment you hold your arms out, crawling into your lap and burying his face in your chest. You don’t care that he’s heavy or that you’re not entirely sure you’re getting any air in your lungs. You care that he’s letting go and that he’s showing you this vulnerable part of himself. 

Billy cries, he weeps, against you for what seems like forever. But you don’t mind. You only want him to feel better. You rub his back, play with his hair, anything to soothe him just that little bit. 

When he’s finished, when he’s caught his breath, he pulls away. His cheeks are pink and you’re sure he’s berating himself for having just sobbed like that. He’s sitting on his knees, fingers scratching at the freckled skin of his arms. He looks young like this. Lost.

“Was it just a bad day? Or is it the bad shit?” 

That is Billy code for I’m spiraling and I need help. For I’m having a hard time and I can’t do it alone. I don’t know how to say it. 

You established that little code pretty early on in your relationship, knowing it would be helpful in getting Billy to talk about his feelings with you. 

“The bad shit,” he tells you. 

“It’s not true,” you say. “Whatever your head is telling you today, it’s not true. Not today, not ever. You gotta say it for me, okay?”

He gives you the barest shake of his head before he pauses and tries to steel himself so that he can do it. He doesn’t want to let you down. 

“It’s not true.”

You grin at him. “Right. And you’re a badass. And we’re gonna eat dinner, and then we’re gonna talk it out, and then we will lay down. And maybe I’ll scratch your back for you.”

Billy nods. He hates that his breath catches at that, that the offer brings him pure, unadulterated joy. 

“Okay.”

He can do that. He knows he can offer that much. 

Because he is a badass. And he can try for you. For himself. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @clovermunson

[live-laugh-legolas]

Hey! I really enjoy your headcanons for LOTR and will always bring a smile to my face when a new one is written. I know you probably have quite a lot of requests, but I was wondering if the fellowship could react to their crush having an injury? It could be any injury, from getting a scrap from falling off a tree to a dangerous gash on their side. I don’t know how comfortable you are with blood, or gore?, so no worries if this is not your cup of tea! Just wanted to put my idea out there and say thanks for writing these lovely headcanons from my favorite books and movies! ☺️

Awe thank you! You are too sweet. I’m a huge sucker for hurt/comfort so I enjoyed writing these :)

I kinda strayed from strictly a “crush” and this can be interpreted as crush/friend/partner, however you wish

How the Fellowship reacts to you getting hurt

Aragorn:

-He received notice and he’s on the job

-Weewoo here he comes with his chewed up herbs!

-Ok that’s an exaggeration but he is quick to help

-However he doesn’t go overboard

-If you trip and scrape a knee he will help you up and check that you’re ok

-He knows you are fine, and makes sure you know that too

-I just imagine him having the mindset of how you deal with a little kid scraping a knee where as long as they can’t see the blood they are fine

-Deal with it quickly and they will forget it even happened

-If you are genuinely in pain he is super reassuring and constantly apologizing for the sting of cleaning the wound

-Very strict with recovery rules; won’t yell at you or anything but his look of disapproval is enough to keep you in bed

Legolas:

-He is no healer, but he knows how to take basic care of an injury

-He will tease you if the injury is from something silly or simple

-But he doesn’t mean anything by it

-However if it is a bad injury; let’s say for sake of setting a scene you are shot with an arrow

-He knows how to deal with this; he’s thousands of years old so this isn’t the first time seeing this

-However for you I think he panics and will call for help

-He knows there are more capable hands for healing and he couldn’t bear doing something wrong or making it worse

-He will take the arrow out if no one else is there but he would rather be comforting and distracting you; he doesn’t want to cause you anymore pain

-It’s kinda like how surgeons generally don’t operate on their own family; it’s just too emotional and stressful

Gimli:

-He talks so incessantly when he’s nervous

-Mostly mumbling to himself as he checks you over

-Might accidentally say to himself “this is bad” before correcting himself to talk to you directly

-“No not bad, you will be fine, you are in very capable hands”

-It’s just a little knife cut, doesn’t even need stitches

-But he bandages it like your arm was nearly taken off

-He will also tell you stories of injuries he’s gotten or has seen; real nasty stuff

-It’s not helpful or calming but he’s trying

Boromir:

-He wastes no time ripping his own clothes to make a bandage

-“Boromir we have bandages” “No time!”

-That is once again an exaggeration but seriously no one knows how he still has anything to wear with how much he rips them

-He is a captain of his guard so he has seen basically every injury there is

-So he actually is quite level headed

-Unlike Aragorn who will talk to you as he patches you up, Boromir is focused and has someone else talk to you if possible; he doesn’t really multitask well

-Will kiss it better (he still does this to Faramir too much to his embarrassment)

-He is kinda relaxed about recovery rules; like he will let you walk around a bit or whatever as long as you aren’t doing further damage

Frodo:

-For a little scrape he will calmly have you sit up on the counter by the sink and he will gently clean the abrasion

-Talks you through it and apologizes that it might sting

-He’s quite calm in general, and even if he wasn’t he wouldn’t show it because he wouldn’t want to stress you out

-A more serious injury, maybe a broken bone he is super pragmatic

-He is the person you want with you because he really does stay calm to help you through it

-Asks someone to go get help while he waits with you so you aren’t alone

-This isn’t necessarily on topic but he would accompany you to any doctors appointments if you ask

-I am a big pussy when it comes to shots, and I am known to faint from blood draws; I really don’t do needles

-He would never judge for something like that though and would happily hold your hand and let you hide your face in his shoulder

Sam:

-He goes a little overboard

-Even if you just tripped and didn’t even get hurt he is fussing

-He can’t help being attentive

-No one he loves will come to harm

-The most doting if you are put on bed rest, or simply have a hard time getting around at the moment

-Seriously, he will escort you everywhere; that is if you don’t let him just do it for you

-I love how he talks to Frodo about the trolls even though he knows his friend is more focused on not dying

-Like Gimli, he will also tell you stories, but his are less gory

Merry:

-“do you want me to hit you to distract from the pain?”

-He’s a little silly about it if it’s a little scrape; and this stems from using humor to distract Pippin when he was younger and would fall

-He is a gentle and thoughtful hobbit; something that you really get to see in the books

-He is super gentle when cleaning any cut; and he gets you to talk to him as a distraction

-If it is something major you know he will get you the best care possible

-He is rich; let’s not forget that

-Like Frodo he will accompany you to appointments; they all probably would, but these two will offer before you can even ask

-Actually, he probably makes your appointments too

Pippin:

-I’m sorry but no matter your relationship to him he will laugh at first (if it’s not obviously bad)

-People falling is funny and he can’t help it

-But he will help you brush off and if you are actually hurt he immediately goes to help

-Will do the half carry where he is supporting your weight as you walk

-Even if you are significantly taller and it would be faster if you walked normally

-He is kinda at a loss for what to do so he gets someone who knows more about healing to help

-While he kinda stands with you with thumbs up “you’re gonna be fine” while sweating profusely

Gandalf:

-To be completely honest, if it’s something small he doesn’t really do anything for it

-If you are upset he will comfort you, but he wants you to be able to handle yourself if need be

-He also has things to do ya know; he’s an important man

-This is not meant to make him sound mean or dismissive; he just won’t make a fuss if you aren’t and it’s nothing to fuss over anyway

-Unless it is serious; then he is using any healing knowledge he has to help you

-My dad always says jokingly “welp, unfortunately we will have to amputate” over paper cuts and such and Gandalf would absolutely do this too

[i-bring-crack]

Ratiorine medieval AU where Aventurine tries to escape being sacrificed to the Demon King and, in turn, finds himself kidnapped by the Dragon Veritas instead.

The Chiuch of Qlippoth has a tradition of sending their most beautiful men and women to the Demon King. The stonehearts, so they called them. They say that the sacrifice of the stonehearts are a way to keep the peace between humans and demons at ease, but it is all just a lie, and the sacrifices are only to strengthen Demon King and his army, while the church is given the army to control the people from challenging them. Aventurine and his sister had connected this knowledge for so long, but now he is the only one left with the truth as his sister was made a stoneheart sacrifice for the Demon King and sent away to his castle. He plans to get her out of that place one day. If not alive, then at least dead to hold a funeral for her. But first, Aventurine needs to escape the clutches of the church.

It was a huge gamble, but in the end, he managed to get out of there. Bloodied, wounded. With his white attire and gold ingots everywhere, he looks like a ghost wife. Thankfully, he is in the deeper parts of the forest, where a supposed dragon lives, said to be taller than palaces and cast wilfires with his breath. Aventurine doesn't believe there to be a monster like that so close to a human civilization, but he is glad that at least this story keeps everyone away from venturing too deep into the forest. The church won't find him here, and he can recover as much as he needs, but gods, the bleeding is too much, it's bound to attract wolves, he can only limp and fall to the ground as his gaze slowly shrinks into darkness.

And the next thing he knows, he is in a tub. In a cave more precisely, but somehow in a tub. There's herbs to his side, needles and weird silver utensils with blood on the other. The water is also not that cold, rather it seems to be heating up. To say Aventurine is scared would be an understatement. Quickly he tries to escape this horrible (lucky yet unlucky as always) situation he has been put through, but before he can get his feet out of the tub a literal dragon wakes up in front of him and stares down at him. The darkness of the night had camouflaged him so well that even as Aventurine tried to calculate how huge he is, he could only clearly see the golden-red eyes of the dragon. (Haha doctor your huge)

"Don't move." The dragon says it so quietly yet it still makes Aventurine tremble before going back into the tub. He covers his body quickly realizing now that he doesn't have anything on except bandages all where he got hurt and a simple cloth to cover him from his shoulders to his knees.

The dragon then surprises Aventurine even more by shifting into a human look alike(he admits its the most beautiful man Aventurine has ever seen, but right now he cant focus on that—) and walking towards him with a disgruntled face to explain the situation to him.

Aventurine has 1, entered through dangerous territory despite the warnings of this forest, so ofc the dragon has to drive them out. But 2, since the human is injured to the brink of death, the dragon decided to take care of him until his body recovered.

"...But wouldn't it be better for you to just eat me instead? Why waste so much effort into helping me recover?"

"First of all, I don't eat humans. Secondly, what gives you the idea taking care of a human will be a struggle for a dragon of wisdom?"

.

Seeing as it is hard to debate the dragon— doctor, aventurine decides to call him now— to nope out of his treatment, and for Aventurine to find help somewhere else, he decides to take the gamble and recuperate until his body is healed.

The doctor is surprisingly kind for a species that doesn't like humans and burn down villages when interrupted from their nap. Or so the tales of them are told. He's never seen a dragon in real life, so the doctor itself is already a fascinating sight to behold (his human side as well is a treat for the eye). Still, what impresses him the most is the fact that he cares about humans. At least those from his rural zone. Upon being able to walk around the cave, Aventurine discovers that all the books the dragon holds are from humans that gifted him such things for his help. He trades knowledge for food and trades his service for more knowledge. The books are maintained and transcribed over and over again that Aventurine can see the care handled into preserving them all, even the tiny letters the dragon is said to have kept from his former students. Unfortunately, they all died many years ago, seeing as how fleeting a human life is, it was bound to happen each time. But it didn't seem to shake the dragon's will to keep on taking more students (those who dared and survived his harsh teachings) and helping any human around him.

As the wound healed it seemed like Aventurine was also healing from his past, learning things the church would have never let him, while still planning a way to get his sister back from the claws of the Demon King.

(Fuck I forgot got to say this— Veritas was given his name by Aventurine since no one had tried to give a dragon a proper name until now. Usually, they would just call him a doctor, the dragon, teacher, or other things since they thought it would be disrespectful to call him by a name or give him one too. And since dragons don't see a meaning to having a name, he was fine with it. But Aventurine wasn't! So he ended up thinking about it for days before deciding to call him Veritas. Due to showing all the truth of the world that he had never gotten to see when he was trapped in the church. Aventurine is the only one who calls him Veritas now, hahahahahah)

[gor3-hound]

meant to be yours

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, unwilling cannibalism - reciever doesn't know! self-mutilation. obsessive, creepy, delusional reader. no real sex but masturbation n fantasies. very little smut and also a lil vomit.

a/n: idk why, but i... could not get this out of my head. been writing this the past few hours n it's now 1am... all i'm gonna say is read at your own discretion

word count: 1.9k words

There wasn't much good in your life. Not really. You'd never been one to talk much. No family, no friends. You spent most of your life working, dropping out of school, and saving money from a young age in order to pursue your one true passion - baking.

Opening up your own shop was hard. You went hungry most nights in order to skim a little cash from your dead-end job to be able to afford the down payment. But it worked. You had your own bakery, and business was booming.

For once in your life, you felt happy.

The day Leon came into the bakery for the first time changed everything. A festering desire found its way into your mind, an itch that wouldn't leave. He was your soul mate, you knew it. He was the sweetest thing you'd ever seen. So pure and untouched.

He made your skin crawl. You needed to be closer to him, to corrupt him in a way that no one would ever come close to you. You needed to be his, mind, body and soul. His smile made you nauseous. How many others had received that same smile?

No. You had to have him in a way no one else could.

You started experimenting. Simple things, really. Your love for him was all consuming, and you're sure in time he'd come to understand how much you worshipped him. He'd be appreciative of all you'd done for him once he found out.

It made it all worth it as you carved into your flesh for the first time. Your teeth clamped down on an old leather belt of yours to stiffle your screams, a piece of fabric tied tight around your thigh to slow the bleeding as you cut chunks of your flesh out.

The pain almost made you pass out, but you wouldn't let your weakness get in the way of showing devotion to Leon. You swallowed your bile as it rose up your throat, blinked past the blurriness of your tears.

You did your best to treat the wounds efficiently after. YouTube can only teach you so much, and your hands wouldn't stop shaking, so you couldn't wrap the bandage as tight as you should have. But that was okay. You couldn't go to the hospital, couldn't risk someone stopping your plan.

You swallowed some painkillers and went to bed, content with the knowledge that tomorrow was Saturday. That meant Leon would be coming. You had something really special for him.

You wake up with a hop in your step the next morning despite the excruciating pain you were in. You down more painkillers and pop the pack in your pocket, although it does little to dull your pain.

You grind the carefully harvested flesh down. You had already made the dough which had expanded nicely. This would have to be your best work, after all. You carefully lay out the necessary ingredients, combining them before placing the filling neatly into the dough.

You gather up the edges of the disc you'd made, folding them over the seasoned flesh and tucking them in to form a nice ball. You smile at yourself, feeling like you deserved a pat on the back. Once the egg wash is on, you place them into the oven and glance at the clock.

Perfect timing.

You smile and set up the rest of the bakery for opening. Once the buns are cooked, you take them out and place them in the back. You greet all the customers as friendly as always despite the burning in your thigh and the obsession making itself known in the forefront of your brain.

The closer it gets to Leon's usual entrance time, the more antsy you get. You can't keep still, shifting your weight between your feet as it becomes increasingly more difficult not to snap at every customer that walks in. They were all wasting your time.

Your eyes flick over to the clock on your wall constantly. The quiet ticking makes your eyes twitch and keeps your nerves on edge. You want to rip the clock from the wall and-

“Hey.” Your head snaps to the door. A smile makes its way to your face as you relax. Finally. You lean on the counter, your gaze trailing Leon's face appreciatively.

“Leon. Hi.” You breathe out, all the tension seeping out of your muscles. He makes all the pain you endured worth it, just to see his smile. “The usual?”

He nods softly, and you get to work packing his order. He likes to treat himself to a slice of cake and a pastry at the end of the week. It's the cutest thing ever to you, and you always like to throw in an extra little snack. On the house, of course.

“Hey, I tried something new today. Saved some for my favourite customer. Want to try it?” The festering in your mind returns tenfold. You didn't know what you'd do if he didn't accept. Your mind was screaming at you, wanting nothing more than to see him eat your flesh. To become one with you.

Please. Your mind supplies, your breathing growing shallow as you wait for his reply. The seconds feel like they stretch into hours, your nails digging into your palms and leaving little crescent shaped marks in the flesh.

“Sure! What did you make?” He asks, sweet as ever. The air you suck in after that satisfies your whole body, like the first breath of air after you'd been drowning. Your lungs stop burning, your mind stops screaming.

“I'm trying out some more savoury stuff. Trying to broaden my horizons, you know?” You say with a chuckle, stepping back to retrieve the tray. “I made some pork buns. Saved them just for you. They're all yours, if you like them.”

He lets out a laugh himself, eyes examining the food in front of him. “You're too good to me. These look amazing.”

Take one. Please. Just one.

“Ah, it's nothing.” You say causally, your eyes locked on his hands as they reach out for one of the buns. Your heart beats faster, feeling like it's about to break free past the cage of your ribs. “You're an officer. Just giving back.”

“Oh, is that what it is?” He says with an amused smile, finally picking up one of them.

Yesyesyesyes. Just a little longer.

It takes every ounce of willpower in you not to make a noise as he takes a bite. It's even harder to keep a neutral expression as he chews it, his eyes widening slightly. He swallows the bite, looks at you and grins. You lean forward, watching with morbid curiosity as his Adam's apple bobs, picturing the chunks of your flesh sliding down his throat.

“Wow! These are, like… really good. You should definitely start selling them.” He compliments, taking another bite. You watch him finish up the bun with increasing interest, your eyes practically sparkling with joy and your pussy throbbing with need.

“That's, um…” Your words come out shaky, so you clear your throat and try again. “Thank you. That means a lot. I'm really glad you liked it.”

“Did you need anything else today? Or is that all?” You ask politely, your hands idly brushing the edge of the counter - desperate for something, anything to ground you as you wait for his response. The anticipation was enough to drive you mad with desire, but you had to stay composed.

If only Leon could understand how much you truly wanted him. How much you needed him to see you, to really see you, not just look at you. What you'd do for him to touch you. Consume you. Become one with you.

“No, no. I think that's it.” He says with a head tilt, not looking unlike a puppy in that moment. You want to keep him in a little room, safe from the cruelty in the world. Maybe a cute little display case you dust off every day.

“Alright, no problem, then.” You say as you start to ring up his order, telling him the price and taking the money. “Let me just wrap these up, and you can be on your way.”

With practised ease, you quickly wrapped the ordered items in paper, making sure the wrapping is secure. Once done, you carefully place them into a brown paper bag, double checking everything was intact. Reaching out, you held it out towards Leon, a kind smile on your face as you tried to ignore the aggressive beating of your heart. Your hand shook slightly, yearning for contact. For just a tiny moment of skin on skin. "Here you go.”

“Thank you so much! I'll see you next week.” He tells you as he reaches for the bag, his fingers brushing yours lightly as he takes it, getting ready to leave the bakery.

"Have a wonderful day." You reply, your voice breaking slightly as you watch him walk away. Your eyes follow his form disappearing down the street until he was out of sight before you let out a ragged breath, collapsing against the counter. Today had been... too close. Too much contact. You needed to calm down.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Your mind wanders for the rest of the day, thinking about how satisfying it would be when you were finally his. You'd get him to accept your gifts with open arms. How could he not love you when he'd realised how much you'd sacrificed for him?

You wanted him to dip his tongue in your wounds, to thank you properly for the pain you'd sustained for him. You'd worship every inch of his body, give everything you'd had to him.

Oh, how good it would feel when he sunk his cock into you for the first time. You'd be perfect for him, open up so easily for him. You'd take every inch without complaint, let him fuck you as often as he wanted.

Maybe he'd sink his teeth directly into your neck when he realised how much he craved your flesh. You'd make him crave another taste. The thought made you shiver, arousal pooling into the gusset of your panties, making the fabric stick to you.

You closed up early to return to your apartment. You find your bed instantly, flopping down and stripping within seconds. You shove two fingers deep into your cunt as you pictured Leon fucking you. The sloppy wet noises fill your room as your moans echo off the empty walls.

Your free hand shifts to the wound on your thigh, and you press down harshly. You scream in pain, nausea hitting you instantly at the agonising pain. It's enough to make you cum, your pussy gushing around your fingers. You lean over the edge of the bed, throwing up onto the hardwood floor. You'd deal with it later.

You curl up into a ball, breathing heavily through tears and mucus as the burning sensation worsens. You can barely breathe through the acrid scent assaulting your senses. It was all worth it. You'd tear every muscle fibre of your body apart to show your reverence to Leon. No one can love him like you can.

You wouldn't be content until he devoured you whole. Not until your souls became intertwined and you were sure you'd plague his thoughts like he had plagued yours. His teeth would sink deep into the flesh of your still beating heart, and only then would he understand the extent to which you adored him.

His innocent appearance meant nothing when he could ruin you so completely with one simple look. One touch. One smile.

He already had.

[baohanhanesel]

Mom of the TF141

Mentioned: Simon Ghost Riley, John Soap Mactavish, Kyle Gaz Garrick, Captain John Price.

It was the fact you knew how to comfort each one of them. They loved some homemade goods after a bad mission. The freshly bandages wounds, aching pain and the headaches were best cured with homemade lentil soup and homemade meatballs with potatoes. You knew they didn't remember the last time they had a homemade meal. So you took the opportunity and comforted them with it.

Ghost liked to be silent while he ate the goods and after that he'd disappear to his room to rest for the day. You'd make sure to send him a bowl of the biscuits you baked so he has snacks to munch at night if he can't sleep.

Soap was the type of guy to talk everything out and you'd listen. You'd listen to him tell you about everything in his mind mission related or not. Most of the time it wouldn't be mission related, he would just want to move on quite fast. You'd sit across from him, see him down the second plate while he talked. He'd occasionally get tired of stuffing his mouth and talking so you had to do a bit of talking as well. "You say so?" "That sounds interesting." "Oh wow. I haven't seen you talk about that before!" "Johnny..." "What? For real? What happened after that?"

Gaz sometimes had tears in the corner of his eyes while he stuffed his mouth shut with a spoonful of lentil soup. He'd never let them fall, not before you gave him the flag to do so. "Kyle, it is fine. You are fine." You wouldn't mention his tears while he ate, or when he decided to talk to you about the mission and how it could have been successful. You could see he valued your words a lot. And that made you feel special, as special as you were for him.

Price was the grumpy type. He had the furrowed eyebrows until he started to eat. After he got that done, he'd soften a bit but you'd still notice the subtle anger in him. You knew at those times joking wasn't a way out, so you just gave his shoulders a pat. "You did everything you could have, John. You know you did." If he denied so, you'd hush him. "No talking back. Why don't you go lay down?" He wouldn't be against the idea if it came from you. He trusted you and the comfortable warmth your words made him feel was indescribable. He could never put a word on it.

It was the fact they all respected you a shit ton. A recruit badmouthing you or even talking to you as an equal? They were very quick to jump at them.

Ghost would glare at first, cursing them in his head for thinking they are your equal. They were not. They didn't have the right to think you were like the others in the base. You were much more important. You were a warmth he never thought that was left in this hellhole of a world. If they went as far as to insult you, he would threaten the recruit behind your back. Grabbing the back of their throat and whispering in a deadly tone. That they were nothing other than a piece of shit on the sidewalk and they would better remember their place before Ghost would teach them where it was. Every time without an exception you'd never see that recruit look into your eyes ever again.

Soap threw a dirty look, asking the recruit overwhelming tons of questions and humiliating them. If they thought they were your equal that was embarrassing. Soap would make them realize how embarrassing they were by asking questions. "Ohh name three times you calmed down an angry Captain after a 48 hour mission." "Name me one time you walked up to Ghost and got him to talk." If they insulted you, it was nothing but a fist straight into their face. No warnings. Nothing. Just a good punch. After that? That recruit wouldn't be seen anywhere within your eye range.

Gaz would openly say they were stupid for thinking of themselves as your equal. He would give them many reasons why they are not. When he witnessed someone insulting you? He rolled his sleeves and prepared his fists but never got to attack the recruit before they ran away. Gaz didn't waste his time tracking the fucker down. He would have. If you hadn't stopped him and told him the recruit was just a rookie.

Price would lecture the recruits. "This woman right here saw more blood than any of you did. She saw more dead bodies than more people you got to know in your pathetic lives." There was no stopping him if he started his lecture already. He wouldn't stop without seeing the shame on the soldier's faces. You would try stopping him though, even if you knew he wouldn't. When would you not try? When he heard you get insulted by someone. That was off limits for you because you knew he saw red when it happened. He'd get very scary with the strict voice and if necessary a collar grab. He'd only calm down after seeing tears in the recruit's eyes or hear their babbles of apologies. If he could fire soldiers for disrespecting you, he would. But he was a smart man and instead of giving up on a lost cause he'd just bend them into manners with more force.

It was the time you called them your boys. It was a calm evening and they had made you so happy, talking and joking peacefully with each other. Seeing them so good and well mannered with one another had made you so happy back then you called them your boys. "I am so happy my boys are so good with one another. Wouldn't change anything for your team bond."

Ghost paused, looking at you in disbelief. He felt a huge crash in his heart and a huge smile on his face matching it. He didn't remember the last time he got this emotional over being mentioned before. He was a grown man, for fuck's sake. He didn't say anything and only kept joking around with the way you said it. Your phrase made him realize that he was one of your boys indeed and that he has been seeing you as his mother figure.

Soap laughed so damn loudly. "Yeah? Seeing our lady happy makes me damn happy." He would get next to you and hug you. As much as he tried to seem he was cool and he totally wasn't affected with the way you called them your boys he was affected horribly. He was so damn happy that you saw him as your boy. He had made peace with the idea in his head before, the idea that you were a mother figure for him. So hearing you say that so casually made him feel like a little child.

Gaz felt his cheeks flush. He was embarrassed. He didn't think hearing that from you could get him this embarrassed, but it had. He wanted to hear you say it again but he would rather dig himself a hole than to ask that of you. He already had a hard time not calling you mom, you were making it very hard for him to not make that mistake. Granted if he accidentally called you mom, he'd disappear for a few days to process what he just did.

Price smiled lovingly. Looking you in the eyes with admiration in them. He admired you so much. You were a brave motherly woman and for him you meant a lot. Hearing you say "My boys" got him so happy you had no idea. He had always seen this team as a family, and you not speaking otherwise gave him the flag to freely call you "mom" even as a joke. You'd take the joke well, that much he knew it. He thought of you as a comforting mother since the day you got close with him. Your smile, your words and your pats on the shoulder. You made him want to cry because of how comfortable you made him feel.

[comicarc]

𝐈 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐈𝐗)

previous • next

"A lonely moon craving for the radiant sun." In which a certain girl catches the attention of a prideful billionaire playboy as they both attempt to find their way in the world. (I haven't seen many fics explore Bruce in his formative years, so I thought I'd share my take on them, of course with romance.)

wc: 2201

A/N: "The future influences the present just as much as the past." -Friedrich Nietzsche

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“That’s it! That’s where you’re gonna stop?” The little boy groaned, resting his head on y/n’s lap as she bandaged his hand. 

“Why of course, you’ll hear the rest when you’re ready. For now, mull over my words for there is always something to learn from history.” She smiled looking into the eyes of the little boy with a motherly affection. 

“What’s there to learn? Bruce Wayne’s selfish, Harvey Dent is ignorant and you–you’re just plain depressed.” The boy rolled his eyes, annoyed that he’d wasted half his night listening to a story without a climax. 

y/n’s smile widened as she chuckled. “I thought you were smart, little robin. No one ever tells you that bravery feels like fear. And it’s easy to be brave when you’d rather die than give up.” She combed a hand through his hair, humming some lullaby. 

As she tied the end of the bandage, securing it, the little boy sat up and leaned against her shoulder as he clarified, “So you’re saying I should fight till my last breath to get what I want? To be stubborn.”

“As hell. Or else the world will devour you, and you’ll be left dreaming.” She finished. 

The boy turned his head to face her, expecting the same gesture she gave him every night. Placing a kiss atop his forehead, y/n rose from her couch to prod at the flame burning in the fireplace with a poker. The boy watched her, unwilling to move from his seat. 

He loved y/n’s humble abode, for it overlooked Gotham in such a way that the city looked like a dream. From the window, he could see a sea of lights below and skyscrapers decorating the skyline in the distance. It was a picturesque view.

Not to mention her apartment was the perfect size, not too small that it felt claustrophobic but not too large that it felt artificial. There was a coziness to it that he never felt in his “real” home. The kind he craved to bathe in till the end of time. 

“Can I stay tonight?” He asked for the umpteenth time in the past week. He knew what she would say, that she truly wished she could but she couldn’t deprive his father of such a wonderful presence.

“Y’know what, why not? It’s the holidays, and I’m sure Batman wouldn’t mind you having a little time to yourself.”

“Really? Yes!” The boy exclaimed. Immediately he was on his feet, running to the kitchen for a midnight snack. As soon as he had his food in a bowl the boy ran back and turned on the TV above the fireplace, setting it the movie Home Alone. He cozied himself into the couch, cuddling into a blanket he found nearby, and patted at the empty space beside him, indicating for y/n to join him. 

She told him she needed a moment outside before joining him for the night. Setting the poker down in its mantle, y/n walked out to the patio, sliding the door behind her to ensure that the little boy would be none the wiser to what was happening outside. 

She took slow steps to the edge, leaning over the railing with her hands folded atop it. “I let him stay tonight. I hope you don’t mind,” she spoke, her words fading into the crisp air. The moon shone down as if illuminating just her. The rest of her patio was shrouded in a darkness so deep, that even a bat couldn’t see through it. 

That’s where he remained hiding as he answered, “Robin needs the break. Make sure he comes back in the morning.” He hesitated before he took a step into the light. Though he still remained out of her sight, she could feel the warmth exuding from his armored body. Standing on her feet again, she moved a step away from the rail until her back was only inches from his body.

“Batman, what a peculiar name. However, did you come up with it?” She began, hoping she’d elicit a reaction. There was a familiarity to his voice that she couldn’t quite place due to the modifier. 

Met with silence, she attempted conversation again. “It’s a beautiful, silent night. I remember a time when Gotham’s symphony was especially deafening during this hour. Why remain in the dark when you can bask in the light of the city’s new hope?”

“Darkness shields just as much as it threatens.” He confessed, his voice wavering ever so slightly.

“And light guides us home, to happiness.” She responded. She wished she could whip herself around, to face the dark knight in all his glory, but she knew he’d have left by now. He was never one to stay too long, but at least his fleeting presence made his company all the more precious.

Alone on the patio, y/n headed inside, back to the Bat’s protege: Robin. Inside, the eager little boy ignored the movie, and began to question y/n’s story yet again. “Please, please, please tell me more. What happened with the case, what happened after they found out where you lived?”

“Well, Falcone’s still serving time in jail, so to say we succeeded would be an understatement. Talking about the trial would be a bore, especially since most of it is public record. As for the boys, well nothing really changed. Harvey hung out more and more with Gilda until they fell in love when they went to Harvard. Bruce went to Yale and essentially dropped off the face of the Earth until he returned to Gotham last year.”

“Ok, if you don’t want to talk about them then I get it. But what about Dr. Crane, what happened with him?” Robin persisted. 

“That’s for another night, alright? Patience is a virtue you really should practice.” She chuckled, moving one of the couch pillows under his head as he slouched into a sleeping position. She patted his side until the boy forgot all about the movie and fell into a restful sleep beside her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A year prior, Bruce Wayne had come back to Gotham. Really, it was more like he had snuck in. For months he remained a recluse, until one day he threw the biggest gala Gotham had ever seen at his mansion. He called it his homecoming ball, but y/n believed it was merely a distraction. The Bruce she knew always used such extravagance as a facade, but there was always the fact that he’d been gone from Gotham for nine years. He’d most likely have changed in that time as any man would. 

By then, at the ripe age of 27, y/n herself had earned her spot in the Gotham Gazette. Having earned a few awards for her writing debut about her involvement in the unraveling of Falcone’s drug operation all those years ago, y/n was able to go to Gotham University and eventually Columbia to earn her degrees in journalism. From there, she was hand-picked by the Gazette to work for them as a full-time writer.

Batman had come into the picture just a month after Bruce’s return, but his presence was so rare that at first, he seemed a myth. Even now, a year later some people still doubt his existence. The only real proof people have is Robin, who showed up in his colorful spandex three months ago. y/n found the little bird in a back alley near her home on his first day, and ever since she’s been helping stitch him up or give him company on the nights he patrols as a sidekick to Batman.

Sending off Robin in the morning, y/n had the remainder of the day to prepare herself to attend another Wayne gala for Christmas. It was a dreaded assignment, for she had wanted to keep herself at a distance from any Wayne, but things don’t always work out the way we want them to.

Before heading to the mall to buy a nice gown for the black tie event, y/n headed to Gotham Academy. She was to meet an old friend at the now-abandoned stands that faced the racetrack. The place where it all began. 

Seated on the stands, she shielded herself from the winter wind with the large men’s coat she wore. Its color had faded with time, but the warmth it trapped was still able to keep her comfortable. It was large on her, but that made it all the more comforting for it engulfed her in a tender embrace. 

A tall, lean figure approached her, with his hood up and a mask to conceal his face. He was muscular, an attribute evident by the way the jacket comfortably hugged his figure. There was a noticeable bulge at his side in the shape of a sidearm, but it was tucked away snugly enough to reassure y/n that it wouldn’t be needed. 

The man took slow steps toward her as he took in y/n’s still form in all its glory under the morning sun. She looked absolutely angelic, with golden rays illuminating her glorious face. The man was utterly entranced by how beautiful she looked, despite the apparent lack of effort she had put into her appearance. 

“Harvey, dashing as always.” She broke the silence with her honey-laced voice.

He smiled as he took off his mask. Sitting beside her he replied, “y/n, lovely as ever. Merry Christmas.”

“I have the file you want, but I can’t imagine why you couldn’t get it yourself.”

“I may be a man scorned, but Two-Face still has his limits.” That may have been true for many things, but this circumstance was different. He wanted an excuse to see her again.

After the accident, Gilda had left him, his public image was ruined, and his mind was in shambles. Yet, y/n remained at his side, as his sole supporter. Even when he changed, when his pain led him down the dark path of criminality, y/n continued to stay in contact with him. He knew she hoped she could change him for the better, but they both knew it was a misplaced expectancy. 

She deserved the world for the kind of woman she was, and that was the very reason Harvey refused to make his advance. He couldn’t give her the heaven she deserved. He feared no man could. But Gotham had recently been put under new authority with all the Arkham inmates running around like they owned the place. And with vigilantism becoming a new trend, who knew what divinity may enter the equation to whisk her away for good? 

Handing Harvey the file, y/n stood. Quirking an eyebrow at her sudden departure he remarked, “Is that my coat?”

With her back to him, she answered, “Merry Christmas, Apollo.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

At last, she returned to her humble abode. At the entrance, there lay a large cardboard box marked with her address. At first glance, there was no sender, no note, nothing that eased y/n’s suspicions. y/n was hesitant to pick it up and bring it inside with nothing to reassure her that it was safe to open.

But a nagging instinct allowed her to let go of her precaution and do just that. Once inside, she set it down on the nearest counter, grabbed an exacto knife, and carefully sliced through the edges of the packaging. The box opened to reveal a note engraved in gold letters, reading, “Make a proper debut in high society with a bang. Sincerely, An Old Friend” 

As she read the sign-off signature, a few people came to mind. Harvey was the first suspect, having been graced by his longing niceties in the hours prior. But he wouldn’t have made such a blatant gesture for no reason; at the very least, he would have made it abundantly clear he was the sender. 

Selina could have simply bought a beautiful piece and sent it to her when they went out together. But there was no such occasion they had planned soon, and as far as y/n knew, Selina didn't know she was attending this gala. 

Another name came to mind, and this one was much more plausible. A girl she once knew, with a habit of making grand entrances had a knack for extravagance that could rival Selina’s. Something was definitely going to happen tonight, and she’d be the first reporter on the scene to break the story. How thoughtful.

Wearing the item inside the box, the flowing, midnight-blue silk dress, shimmered subtly under the soft lighting of her apartment. It hugged her curves with a delicate grace, its plunging neckline framed by delicate trim that cascaded down the bodice, ending in a graceful train that pooled around her ankles, leaving a trail of elegance with each step. The dress made her feel as though she’d finally fit in, no longer a weed in a field of roses. Taking her press pass and invitation in her clutch and wearing her simple silver heels, y/n was out her door again hailing for a cab on the street to make her way to the Manor. 

˖ ࣪🦇𓆰♡𓆪🦇ִ ࣪⋆

taglist: @earth-to-name

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

How reckless could a race of people be if they could heal rapidly? If someone got hit by a car in real life and needed a few months to start walking again, and over a year to do anything like martial arts again, for these people, they'd be walking in a few days and doing martial arts in two weeks. If they would die on impact, then yes, they would die. If they would die in an ambulance, it depends but they would still have a chance. In real life, cuts that take a few days to heal will be healed in several minutes. They definitely do feel pain of course, but as a whole, the general populace has pain tolerance just below those of elite athletes in the real world. I'm imagining these people might be the daredevil type.. could it be very common to get cuts and bruises, not strange to see some of the worst kids or teens getting cut nearly every single day, multiple times a day. I mostly want to focus on the injured = not a big deal bit. Or getting injured as part of normal daily life. But what else might this affect? More surgeries happening because people decide the recovery time isn't an issue (doesn't eliminate other factors of course) How about piercings? If someone goes half a day without piercings, their hole would close. Maybe... medicine that stops the healing process? But how expensive could those medicines be vs getting pierced again?

Tex: So there’s this plant, called plantain. One of the common varieties is known as Plantago major. One of its primary uses in herbal medicine is to heal wounds - and it’s very good at it!

A little bit too good, unfortunately, and it often comes with a warning to clean out wounds first before applying it, because it has the tendency to work so quickly at encouraging skin to knit back up that infections can easily be sealed underneath. This is a problem, because in order to heal the infection, the skin must be cut back open, lest someone risk the infection spreading to the blood and causing sepsis (if not, in bad cases, necrosis).

“Super healing” has many of the same flaws. In practice, the process of healing is rather complex, and while there is some overlap in steps (excess blood cleared away, immune system response to pathogens, phagocytosis, signals sent to regenerate broken tissue or other affected organs), doing too much of only one process can have detrimental effects on the patient in question. It’s the reason why in first aid you clean a wound first, then apply medicines, then apply bandages.

Things like bones, and the squishier bits called organs, take time to heal, because they’re not only reallocating resources to grow new cells (i.e. neurogenesis, osteogenesis, etc), they’re also going through the entire pathway of fighting infections (i.e. B cells, T cells, etc) and checking for cancerous markers of cells that duplicated incorrectly (uncommon, but non-zero possibility). It’s a lot, lot more than “add calcium to bone” or “make skin whole”.

Regeneration of tissue is also rather itchy, and uncomfortable. That, barring anything else, is going to make a lot of people think twice about how many injuries they’re willing to risk. Compounding injuries compounds the discomfort, and most people wish to avoid being uncomfortable if there’s any other option for a situation.

On top of that, rapid regeneration would require a large amount of resources for both calories and micronutrients. This translates to being hungry all the time. Humans can generally heal quickly with a good diet and enough sleep (the brain regulates the flushing of metabolic waste during sleep, Patel et al.), which is why it’s seen as a good sign for hospital patients to have an appetite and also to have a regular sleep schedule.

You can handwave as much of this as you like in your worldbuilding, but to borrow SAW’s general rule, “you break it, you bought it” in terms of internal consistency.

[098-lxxon]

Take a pig away

This fanfiction is a moment featured in this AU.

Content warning : Self-taught English / Curses / Oc insert (briefly) / Curly's death / Daisuke killed him and won't take responsibility / Self-pity / Anya's suffering

" The oxygen is severely low! It won't be enough for you and your crew, captain Anya! "

" How long will we survive? Estimate it. "

" ———— "

" Three weeks, ma'am. "

" Then we need to reach out for help real quick. We can't put Daisuke in the pod until we're sure that help is on the way. "

" Anyone responded to any of our signals yet? "

" No, ma'am. No response at all. "

" . . . "

Daisuke over heard the conversation from outside of the cockpit.

He was just here to ask Anya where's the painkillers is.

1 months after almost getting kill out of mercy by Swansea, Daisuke wasn't quite himself. There's a belief in his family that when someone's in severe shock, their souls flew away from their body. Maybe he still hasn't got his back.

Fallacia, the self-aware AI that came out of nowhere has been helpful for, like, a month or so? She located where the rest of the medical stash is and Anya used them to treat his wounds.

He's far from fine. His wounds sting like paper cuts. But bigger. And of course deeper. But he can't bear listening to Curly's cry anymore.

Swansea and Jimmy were wasted on the ground nearby. Swansee tied Jimmy up and forced him to drink mouthwash with him. They both are drunk as hell now. He's in no condition to take care everyone either, so Anya was pushed to be the new captain.

She survived her attempt with the help of activated charcoal Fallacia found. She looked stressed out more than ever with all the responsibility on her shoulders. It made him feel guilty.

Guilty for getting himself hurt in that vent. Guilty from after everything, he's just a useless ray of goddamn sunshine to Swansea. And now he's wasting oxygen?

Daisuke used the wall to steady himself back in the medical room. He sighed. Curly may have to suffer for a while longer until Anya's done with her communication attempt of the day.

" . . . "

Or not.

Does anyone ever noticed how Curly's breath quickened when the painkillers wear off?

No? Maybe he was just laying there in the room with him for long enough to noticed that.

" . . . "

How much pain he's in? Daisuke asked himself, sitting on his bed in medical room, looking at Curly tossing and turning, well, trying to.

He felt his own wounds sting this time. Now it's his turn to suffer? Gosh, if he could he would take all the painkillers on the ship right now.

He's useless. All he could do is lay down, wasting oxygen and medical supplies. He's never of anyone's assistant for the past 5 months, or even better, ever.

And Curly's just like him.

Both of them are wasting oxygen.

" . . . "

One has to go.

Gotta take a pig away.

Daisuke climbed down his bed. He almost fell. His unstitched wounds hurt like it would rip. But they didn't have any needles. Anya wouldn't use toothpicks either.

He walked to Curly's bed, listening to him wailing desperately in pain. Their eyes locked. Daisuke himself felt it. The way he looks at him, it isn't the same.

Daisuke pulled Curly's pillow out of his head. He locked eyes with his former times two captain while he grabbed the pillow with both of his hands.

" Close your eyes, Captain . . . "

!!

" !!!!!! "

" !!! — !!!!!!! "

Please die faster

" !!!!!! "

" !!!! . . . "

" ! . . . "

" . . . "

Curly stopped squirming. Stopped screaming, too. Daisuke catched his breath. The pain in his abdomen starting to feel unbearable. Not only from the injury. But the situation as well.

He lifted the pillow up from Curly's face. His eyes didn't move. Nor does his chest.

He

Isn't

Breathing.

" . . . "

Daisuke put the blood-soaked pillow back under Curly's head. His stomach turned when he touched the wet bandages.

The intern limped back to his bed, climb up, and lie there, panting.

What the fuck have I done?

- ! -

The sound of medical room door being slided open frightened him. His heart beats faster, his eyes won't left Curly's stiff body.

" I'm here, guys. I'm sorry, I was talking to Fallacia and . . . "

Anya's voice and the sight of Fallacia on the screen make his stomach twisted. What if they knows? Will they be angry? Will they scold him? Will they hate him?

" . . . "

" . . . Daisuke, you're shaking. "

" H . . . "

" Why, what happened? Were you having a nightmare again? "

Anya's voice soften when she saw tears in his eyes. Daisuke's heart was pounding, the noises hurts his ears.

" . . . He "

" . . . He stopped moving . . . "

" Huh? "

Anya looked at Curly on his bed. She walked to him and check on him.

" . . . "

" . . . Wh . . . "

" . . . When did he— . . . "

Her voice shook.

He felt his wounds bleeding out.

" . . . I . . . "

" . . . I was . . . I went to the cockpit . . . "

Is he really doing this?

" . . . I tried to— call you, but you didn't answer . . . "

Putting blame on her?

" When I'm back . . . He . . . "

" . . . "

" . . . I'm . . . "

- ! -

" . . . "

Anya handed him two tablets of painkillers. Her face twisted in distress as it filled with tears.

" . . . "

Daisuke took it, swallowed it dry. As he wait.

Wait for her to say it. Say that she knew he's dead from suffocation and not any other factors.

Say it.

" . . . "

" . . . I'm sorry, Curly . . . "

Anya covered her face with her hands.

" ———— "

" . . . The oxygen is enough for another two months now, ma'am. "

" God, no . . . "

Anya's legs gave up, sending her to the ground as she sobbed.

" . . . "

His sin's crawling on his back.

Thank you for reading!

[rea-grimm]

Weapon Simeon

You regularly returned to one place during your travels. You liked to visit the Shrine of the Heavenly Weapons. It was a place where healers from all over the world could turn to, both master and weapons. 

You loved to go there for healing, for medicines, ointments, antidotes and even massages. One of the other reasons you went back often was because of a priest you liked and had a crush on, even though you knew it would lead to nothing. 

You kept your feelings for him and, in fact, the mark of your weapon to yourself. You didn't want to just trumpet it to the world, since in your opinion no one cared anyway. You may not have found your real weapon yet, but there were so many swords among the weapons that you had no idea where to look. All you knew was that it was a two-handed sword. 

You returned to the temple after a long time, returning from a mission that didn't go as you had hoped and you ended up with several injuries. 

Just as you walked through the main gate, Simeon was summoned without you asking for him. Everyone already knew that he was the one who was mostly looking after you. Either you asked for him yourself or he was already waiting for you. For his favorite master. 

As soon as he saw you, he was surprised at the state you were in. He immediately dragged you to a private room where he treated you. He was bandaging your wrist when his eyes fell on the grey mark of your weapon. 

"You still haven't found anyone?" he asked as he treated you. You just waved it away with your hand, as it was a waste of words for you. 

That same evening, you sat together on the terrace under the trees, where you loaded up a bottle of the local wine. You were in good spirits and talked about what was new in the world and what was new in the temple. 

You spent a few more days in the temple, as your injuries were healing rather slowly. It was a day like any other when the temple was attacked by bandits. It was a rather large group of masters and weapons who decided to loot the temple. 

They all knew that there was a lot of wealth, gifts and relics in the shrines, churches and temples. 

It happened in the middle of the night, when most people were already asleep. You were back on the terrace with Simeon when there was the sound of things breaking, shouting, and eventually a fire started to spread through the temple. 

Immediately you were on your feet and rushed inside to help the others. You reached for your sword and defeated several bandits before they overpowered you. You were still weakened by your injuries when you were hit in the side.

You ended up on the ground, clutching your bleeding side as a bandit leaned over you with a bloodthirsty look. He was already reaching out to attack when out of the corner of your eye you saw Simeon rush towards you. 

Before the bandit could hit you, you grabbed Simeon like a sword and swung with all your strength. It was surprising how much power you had in your hands with him. You didn't even feel any resistance as you sliced the bandit in half with him. 

Simeon had turned back into a human, and was partially covered in blood. He took you in his arms, careful not to aggravate the wound on your side. He carried you aside to the garden where it was safe, where neither the fire nor the bandits had yet reached. 

He made sure you were okay before he got up to go back inside. You stopped him as you refused to stand by and watch in silence. Even though he didn't like it, you were determined to help him. 

Eventually, together, you managed to drive the bandits away. You buried the fallen bandits and temple members in the cemetery next to the small orchard. 

After that, you finally had some time to yourself, with Simeon tending to your wounds anyway, and neither of you spoke of the obvious that had happened during the raid. Your tattoo had changed, and he felt the same way.

He was putting new bandages on you when his gaze fell on your wrist, which now held a white and pale blue sword with angel wings. Proof that you belonged together as master and weapon.

You spent a few more days in the temple until your injuries healed and you wondered what to do next. Again, you wanted to move on, but you knew Simeon wanted to stay in the temple. You could see in him how indecisive he was.

As the day of your departure approached, the other priests began to urge Simeon to follow his heart and come with you. That he always had the door open there. To go with his master and find what others had been searching for all their lives and many times had not found.

When the temple was out of sight, you apologized to him, because you didn't want to take him away from there, etc. Simeon stopped in his tracks and looked you in the eye. He didn't say anything before he leaned down and kissed you on the lips.

"Don't apologize. I'm glad it's you. I can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to each of your visits. How much I looked forward to seeing you again. And I'm honored to be your true weapon, so don't blame yourself," he said, stroking your cheek with his thumb before kissing you again.

Obey me! Masterlist

[damagedintellect]

Skk Brainrot for Dazai’s BDay

💌 A Walk in Each Other’s Shoes: Chapter 2  💌  

Summary:  “They’ve been like this since returning from their mission following up with the defection of several gifted members. From what Chuuya or rather “Dazai” said a new organization was behind said defections, Sonrisa, created a machine to essentially “steal” abilities-” Chuuya dropped from the ceiling in front of Hirotsu finishing the report “But it didn’t work how they originally designed it and now me and Chuuya switched bodies!” his smile was wide, almost creepily so. Chuuya doesn’t smile often and especially not like that. Without a doubt, it was Dazai in Chuuya’s body.

Notes:  The bodyswap AU no one asked for, Happy Birthday to our boi Dazai I gift you with emotions, I wanted to play with the hc that “No Longer Human” nullifies more than abilities

💌 Word count: 2,038 💌  <= Previous Chapter | Chapter 3 =>

Dazai didn't plan on doing anything weird initially, but that was before Chuuya instructed him not to. He broke out in a grin as he entered the washroom. Now what to do, was the question on his mind. If he takes too long Chuuya would get suspicious and he didn’t want that. As Dazai shuffled through the cabinets to see what he was working with, his reflection caught him off guard. His pulse spiked as he looked at his partner in the mirror. He thought he was about to be reprimanded before he managed to do anything fun.

It finally dawned on him that this was the first time he's seen Chuuya’s face since the swap, despite being with the redhead all day. It should have been jarring speaking with his own body to some degree but that wasn't the case. If Dazai had to guess it was because his focus was elsewhere but now staring at his short counterpart in the mirror it put things into a perspective he didn't account for. First of all Chuuya would be taking off his bandages. 

Outside of insulting his "wasteful usage" he's never once asked about them in a prying manner. What would his reactions be? He felt something stir in the pit of his stomach at the thought. Would Chuuya take the time to rewrap the bandages afterwards? Would it be weird if Dazai personally requested to do it himself? They are not the most comfortable things in the world but it's bearable because of what they mean to him but they don't hold any significance to Chuuya. The real question he should be asking is if he can tolerate looking at himself without them present. Dazai was making himself dizzy. It was getting harder to think with his new brain jumping around. Should he say something about it? He's never had to in the past but they've never been under such extreme circumstances that called for this kind of emotional vulnerability on his part.

Chuuya was always the one with his heart on his sleeve, not Dazai. Chuuya was the one who opened up and laid himself bare, not Dazai. Although their trust undeniably went both ways it was always about Chuuya’s emotional wellbeing, Dazai made sure of that. He could feel the room shift. He didn't realize he wasn't touching the floor until he tried focusing on the image of Chuuya staring back at him.

Floating was strange. He gripped the edge of the sink as he grounded himself figuratively and literally. He needed to calm down. He stared back at Chuuya’s piercing blue eyes. He'll never get the chance to stare at them from this distance again. They were captivating. He's always thought so which was annoying. Dazai drew out a shaky breath as he shrugged off the other's jacket and started pulling off his gloves. Another realization hit him like a train as he peered at his hands feeling every muscle in his throat move as he swallowed poignantly. Like his bandages Chuuya never takes off his gloves, only when it's absolutely necessary, meaning Dazai has never gotten to observe his hands up close like this either. This feels weird. His head was spinning through several thoughts that made him want to gag. It felt like he was overstepping in unmarked territory and while he shouldn't care in the slightest his new vessel had a mind of its own. Not to mention that technically he was undressing his dog and that made him sick. 

He's seen the other without a shirt before but somehow this felt different, more intimate. Dazai would be personally discarding the articles of clothing himself. He coughed, staring back at Chuuya in the mirror. His face was flush, strands of hair sticking to his forehead. The unsettled feeling in his stomach came back for entirely different reasons. Chuuya really did make him sick by all accounts of the word. He would die before ever admitting that he found the other attractive but he could not refute the fact that the redhead was conventionally attractive by modern beauty standards. Dazai also refused to believe that he could be this easily flustered, it had to be Chuuya’s stupid brain not being able to handle his own subconscious mind because this was getting ridiculous. 

He was mortified that things were getting harder to compartmentalize the longer he stayed in Chuuya’s body.

Without warning the door opened causing him to panic despite not doing anything wrong. Chuuya raised an eyebrow at him. He had already discarded the bandages on his head but the others remained intact. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Dazai’s familiar flat monotone echoed through the room breaking through the swell of emotions he was experiencing. Chuuya handed him a towel and a change of clothes as Dazai plastered on a fake smile to hide behind. In truth he felt humiliated being found in such a state. "No ghost, just an ugly mutt!" He waved his hand dismissively. 

Should he say something now or should he wait. Which would be the better option? His heart started pounding against his chest. For the first time he couldn’t discern the better outcome. His mind was simply running through too many emotions for him to focus. His thoughts were jumping around vague word association to distract from conversations he would rather not be having. How does Chuuya make snap judgments like this, or was this because of the other thing he was thinking about? For once he doesn't know.

If he's being completely honest Dazai has no idea how much of his thoughts subconsciously belong to him. Realistically it's probably a mixture of both. Since his memories are solely his, it might be his body trying to compensate for the new information? He's spitballing the idea to make himself feel better and he knows it. If only he paid more attention when the lab coat underling was talking but his attention was divided.

Dazai’s smile was off and Chuuya could tell something was up. It didn't take a genius to figure that Dazai was eyeing the remaining bandages. Chuuya shrugged, he's always wondered what purpose they served but if Dazai is tense about the prospect of him taking them off he'll just rewrap them. Simple as that. There's no sense causing his partner to have a meltdown over it.

"Yeah, yeah I get it the others stay on. You look like you're about to blow a gasket-" He cut himself off leaning into his face. “Wait, is that really what I look like when I'm lost in thought?" Chuuya reached out to pinch his own cheeks. The gesture was mostly to piss off Dazai but part of him was always curious about what he looked like in the candid. The sheep, the flags and even Dazai himself would often tell him he made the most entertaining expressions; this was a rare opportunity to finally see it first hand.

Dazai growled, swatting the hand away. "I hate how your brain functions! Everything is so loud and the constant shifting of thoughts is giving me whiplash." Dazai put the bundle of clothes on the counter as he practically ripped his shirt off. The faster he took a shower the sooner he could be done. Chuuya rolled his eyes. "It's not like I'm thrilled about this either." He dug around the cabinet and pulled out a stash of bandages setting them aside to finally take his leave.

It didn’t actually take Chuuya that long to find clothes that fit Dazai’s build. He completely forgot that during Christmas Albatross thought it would be funny to give him a snail themed pajama set that he could "grow" into. He rolled his eyes as he easily found it in the back of his closet untouched. He swore he was never going to wear it and when the flags died he couldn't bring himself to throw it out but now he doesn't feel that overwhelming sorrow looking at it. He shrugged, it was strange feeling indifferent about it now. On his way out of his room he grabbed Dazai something to wear, what he would have worn tonight if he was still in his own body. Elegant but not too fancy in his opinion, a simple red pajama set that was slightly loose and comfortable.

As he approached the bathroom he noticed the water wasn't running, which could only mean Dazai was up to no good so he didn't bother knocking and just walked in. He didn't expect to see him gripping the sink like he's about to pass out. Once more it felt bizarre to feel indifferent about it. As much as he grumbles about the other, he does care about Dazai. If he didn’t he really would have killed him by now with all the shit the brunette's gotten him tangled in but then he would have killed the only one who understood. If he believed in soul mates he would be more disgusted but fundamentally he has already processed the idea that they both make the other more human than either cares to acknowledge. Their inseparable bond aside, it felt uncomfortable knowing he would probably have reached out had the void not been so deafening. How does Dazai do anything with this empty feeling?

Chuuya shrugged, they didn’t need the verbal reassurance anyhow and Chuuya does have extra bandages knowing Dazai breaks into his apartment on occasion. The other will probably come to the same conclusion. Albeit their circumstances are still bizarre he doesn't blame the other having scattered thoughts on the matter. Dazai is exceedingly competent but even this was an oversight neither thought possible. Chuuya does feel responsible to some degree but he doesn't feel a sense of guilt, at least not yet. He can't tell if his emotions are nonexistent or just delayed or what. It could be all of the above for all he cared. He wasn't paying attention to the pompous asshat and his self centered monologue he figured if it was important Dazai would clock it and fill him in later like usual.

By the time Dazai gets out of the shower his skin is flush. Probably due to how hot the water had been which means the bastard probably used all of it. Chuuya rolled his eyes, great. He had been looking forward to a hot shower since Dazai’s body runs colder than he’s used to. Maybe that’s what the bandages are really for. He stifled his laugh as he passed the other.

The steam felt warm and welcoming on his face but uncomfortable literally everywhere else. It's only now that Chuuya realizes just how much Dazai bandages himself up. He makes fast work of stripping his clothes off to reveal the white fabric is basically a second skin. The only area not covered is his pelvis and his upper thighs. What the fuck is wrong with the bastard this is an ungodly amount of bandages. Chuuya painstaking removes them all revealing scars and bruises that he didn’t know existed. It's actually pretty impressive he didn't feel some of the bruises earlier. He wonders how the hell the mackerel managed to get half of these. He couldn't help but trace a few of the scars, namely the big one that spread across his chest.

He remembers that day in extreme vivid detail; it was the first time that they had worked together. It was a rush like no other but even that feeling was lost to the void. Chuuya frowns staring back at Dazai’s slender frame. He's surprised that he's not repulsed by the fact that he's staring at his partner naked and almost intrigued by the indifference. He's aware that he made it abundantly clear for Dazai to refrain from any funny business in his body, but Chuuya is curious just how much pain or pleasure the other can feel since everything else seems dampened by his ability. Chuuya has half a mind to find out but the moment his hand moves his face twists in disgust. Was he really going to jerk Dazai off to satisfy his morbid curiosity? Maybe a cold shower is what he needs.

[jacksfandomrandom]

How Eve Became Steve: Chapter 2

Summary: Vicky has some explaining to do

When Vicky woke up again, he found himself in an unfamiliar bedroom on a plush and comfortable bed. He knew that this wasn’t the dorms anymore. Mainly because their beds were barely comfortable at all. What was even more strange was that he couldn’t see out of his left eye. Something was covering it. He tried to get up but was right away attacked with a burst of pain shooting up his back. 

“Aagh!” He cried.

His little burst of pain had caused footsteps to start rushing towards him. He wanted to hide but couldn’t move. The door opened and the kind blond man from before stood in the doorway. He saw Vicky trying to get up and rushed over.

“Hey, hey, don’t try to move just yet,” Charlie walked over to his side with a couple of flying goats following behind him.

“Wh-why should I trust you?!” Vicky tried to rebut. This was hell, what if he tried to kill him or assault him?!

“Because I patched up all your injuries even though you’re literally an exorcist angel?” Charlie replied. Victor was about to say something but cut himself off. He was right. Why would someone patch him up just to end up killing him? That would be a waste of bandages and cleaning supplies.

“I… I guess you’re right…” He mumbled.

“Great! Now, I think you’ve bled through the gauze. Mind if I change your bandages?” Charles asked. That’s when Vicky realized that there were bandages on his back. These weren’t like the ones he would try to hide his chest with either. They actually had gauze and everything. But in order to even wrap them that would mean Charlie had seen his chest…

“Y-you bandaged my back?!” He yelled, a little angry.

“Yeah, it was a bloody mess! I wasn’t just gonna let you bleed to death!” The prince yelled back. The idea that Charlie now knew he wasn’t a real boy and he couldn’t start a new made him just get more upset. He didn’t mean to sound angry. His tone just tended to sound mad whenever he was overwhelmed or panicking.

“You saw my-!” Victor quickly cut himself off and quickly covered his mouth once realizing what he was about to say

“What? Your chest?” he said back with a more softer tone. Vicky wanted to yell again, but just didn’t have the energy. He felt like crying. With Charlie being so straightforward about it, it just made the situation feel much more big and made his anxiety grow. So he pulled his knees to his chest and hid his face before nodding. Charlie sighed and sat next to him. The angel looked to be more upset about him seeing it, not even the idea that he could’ve abused them. His priorities were a little mixed up but Charlie had an idea as to why.

“Victor… Are you… trans? Like, a boy born in the wrong body?” He asked, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. Vicky took another deep breath to try and stop himself from going into an anxiety attack, and nodded slowly, still hiding his face. 

“Was why I fell…” He mumbled very quietly, his voice cracking as a few tears leaked out. 

Charlie couldn’t say he was shocked. It was something that was pretty typical of heaven to do. But by the looks of it, it seemed like the angel had just come out. Like he didn’t even have anytime to start to socially transition. 

“I- I just wanted to tell my friend. I thought ‘Maybe she’ll accept me and give me a boy’s haircut’ but I was wrong. She… She stabbed my eye out and ripped off my wings in front of everyone…called me a sinful tranny,” Vicky started to softly sob as he recalled and processed everything that happened. He had no friends now, no family. All of his stuff was left in heaven, he couldn’t fly anymore or see out of his left eye. His life turned to shit all in 32 hours.

“Victor… I am so sorry,” Charlie wrapped his arms around him, avoiding the back injuries and gave him a hug.

He sobbed into Charlie’s arms, getting snot and tears all over his white dress shirt. After a while, he seemed to have calmed down a little and was now just sniffling as he wiped away stray tears. It felt a little strange, getting comforted by someone who was practically a stranger, but fuck, he really needed that hug. 

“Alright, now that you’re calm, how about I give you a haircut and you can take a bath before I give you some new bandages?” Charlie suggested, pulling away from the hug. Victor looked up at him and smiled, his eyes filled with hope and gratitude. 

Charlie carefully picked him and carried him to the bathroom. He set Vicky down on a stool and handed him a magazine to pick out the style he wanted, while he grabbed the hair cutting kit.

“My apologies for the genre of magazine. Most of hell’s media is sex stuff. But I’m sure there’s a few hair styles you’d like in there,” He said while rummaging through the cabinet.

“Huh, there seems to be a page ripped out in the ‘sexiest men’ award section…” Vicky said, teasingly. Charlie blushed madly and hid his face. Suddenly, Victor laughed. It was a small giggle but it was so adorable that Charlie couldn’t help himself from smiling too.

Once Charlie got out the hair cutting kit, Victor picked out a style. The reference was a picture of a man with the right side of his head shaved and the left side was a medium length that went over his eye.

“Can I have this one? but I don’t want this side to be shaved, just shorter than it is now” He pointed to the picture.

“Yeah, I can do that! It looks pretty easy,” Charlie exclaimed, putting a towel over his shoulders and picking up the scissors.

It didn’t take too long but when it was done, Vicky practically cried out of happiness. He actually looked somewhat like a boy! His hair was short and looked so boyish! He loved it! He ran his hands through the choppy short hair and almost flapped his hands from joy. He controlled it though, not wanting to seem like a freak in front of the one person who seemed to care.

“Thank you so much, Charlie. You have no idea how much this means to me,” Victor said, giving him a hug from the stool.

“Hey, It’s no problem. I love to help out. Now, do you need help with the bath?” Charlie asked.

“No, I think I should be good.” 

“Alright. Well, when you get out, just tell me and I’ll come help with the bandages, okay?” He got out a towel and swept the floor a little. Vicky nodded and Charlie soon left. For the first time in a long time, Vicky somewhat liked his experience. Maybe falling wasn’t so bad after all.