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evilminji · 1 year ago

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You know what I never see explored?

"Not on MY watch!" Superfan Dash Baxter. The young, limnal, quarterback built like a tank and willing to hit like one.

Because let's be real here. Imagine that scenario: Dash, heading to practice with his Bros. His best friends. The team. When? Oh shit! It's PHANTOM! Best day EVER right?

Except it's NOT.

Somethings wrong. He's not as graceful as he usually is. There is no clever comebacks. He looks beat up, man. What HAPPENED? Everyone looks confused when Dash looks around. But before he can call up to him?

Phantom is Shot Out Of The SKY.

Hits the football field HARD. The entire team is already running. Full sprint. It's those fucking GIW. Already driving onto the field and tearing it up. Jumping out, weapons primed.

Phantom's not... oh god, he's not getting up.

He looks hurt. Really hurt. Those bastards are closing in.

Dash's team? Has his back. They're also fans. Friends of his. Not a single one hesitates. They put their BACKS into it and welcome these sick fucks to Tackle Practice. With a follow up of "Taste Your Own Teeth". Amity special, coach would be proud.

But Dash... fuck, he can't wail on these guys AND protect Phantom at the same time. Kwan tells him to go. Throws him his keys. His car is least shit. Dash owes him SO many pizzas for this. First pick on movies for LIFE, man.

It hurts to leave his team behind. His best friend. But Dash has to GO. He can already hear the Fentons closing in. He grabs Phantom, his HERO, and runs for his life.

Barely manages to peel out of there in time. Floors it. Calls Paulina, obviously. She and Star are doing a spa day thing. She picks up because she KNOWS he wouldn't bother her if it wasn't serious. And-!

Oh...

Oh fuck.

In the rear view mirror. The Fentons and GIW just screeched onto the road behind him. Closing distance FAST. What does he do? Paulina he can't... he WON'T hand Phantom over!

And of course she understands. For God's sake, she in LOVE with the guy. He's never heard her sound so scared and furious. They'll get phantom over her twice dead body. She and Star are making some sort of noises, chanting, and...?

Giant Amazons with swords? GHOST Amazons. Suddenly in the road, jumping over his car to attack the cars behind him. Paulina what the FUCK?? She been talking to her Abuela, APPARENTLY. Who's friends aunt's "roomate" was particularly good at communicating with the dead. So OBVIOUSLY Paulina got her to send notes and studied them in secret.

Gotta be able to speak to you future husband's family in their native language. You win brownie points. Gives her a step up. "Not the point"? It's kind of a point! Giant warrior women! Who-?

Paulina made friends while practicing.

Of course she did. Why is he even REMOTELY surprised she chose the giant terrifying Amazons to be beasties with? He's know her for years. He should know better by now.

.....he feels small asking. Hates that his voice shakes. But... but what do they DO, 'Lina?

What he hates even more is the little shake in his childhood friends voice, even though she's trying to sound certain and strong. What they Do? What they DO is Dash drives his ass the her house, gets in her BETTER car, which she is going to load up, and they leave Amity.

She has LOADS of money. All sorts of jewelry. They're very last season. Frankly, she.. she can't WAIT to pawn them if they have too. They just have to drive. Get Phantom as far away from those freaks as possible. Get help.

And? It could go so many ways from there? Paulina LOVES Phantom. How will she reconcile that with her views on Fenton? How will Dash? Seperated from their roles as "the popular ones" and "the crazy people's son". Knowing that... that Danny likes her TOO.

But she's been AWFUL to him. She said so much. DID so much.

Do the even? LIKE each other? Or just the IDEA of each other? The person they made up in their heads.

They're afraid, tired, on the run. But free from school, the expectations of others, the baked in histories of a small town. Who ARE they as people? Do they like each other? COULD they?

I want to believe that Paulina really means it. That no one is at their best in middle and high school. They say and do stupid, mean, shallow shit. Because the world presses and presses and tells them it's all they are worth. Because they don't know who they ARE yet. Because she is a child. Not yet eighteen.

And Danny isn't perfect either. He saw a pretty, pretty face and got distracted by it. Didn't see how HARD she works. How smart she is. How ambitious and brilliant at reading people.

Are they trying to get to an Embassy? To Paulina's extended Family to the south, who would most certainly take them in, and would gladly fight gods for them? Or is this a crossover? Are they going towards other Heros? Older ones?

Is Paulina planning to pull a Lois Lane and Cause Problems On Purpose? Is Dash HAUNTED by "oh fuck, Wes was right." And now knows he's gonna have just... just WALK UP TO THEM. Broad ass daylight. Like "hello, I clearly know your secret identity! Please don't kill me!"?

Whatever the plan? Danny is in the back row of Paulina's once nice, now beat to hell car, bleeding irresistibly damaging acidic ecto-blood all over the seats. Wrapped up like a mummy. Texting Tucker.

The live tweets from Amity are... An Event. A Spectacle for the ages. His parents KNOW now, have speed run their grief STRAIGHT to RAGE, directed that rage at the GIW, and gone to WAR. Once a Fenton, always a Fenton. Jazz was right. "Anti-ghost" sentience testing once a week DID pay off.

Was it a pain in the ass? Absolutely. But results don't lie. He clearly passed. Is clearly sentient, emotional, and their son. All in hard numbers they ran themselves. Will it stop them attack FULL ghosts? Jazz has no idea. But it sure did convince them to put the GIW in a hole and fill it with concrete.

Danny's getting reports of "you SHOT MY BABY!" Being shouted in public. Sam has decided to channel her frustration at being unable to help him into Full Goth Dramatic Shit Stirring. Non-waterproof mascara, disheveled hair. Clutching a picture of him. Dramatic howling and weeping in the arms of her parents.

Apparently now that he's presumed DEAD, the Mansons ALWAYS loved him. Like a SON to them. A sweet, innocent child. Their daughters friend! The GIW are monsters and child killers, they decry.

And the Red Huntress is... Oh, yikes. Yeah he should call her. Val is one more bad thing happening from her villian origin story. At least she... PROBABLY... has killed anyone yet. Note to self: when Danny can actually move torso again, buy Valerie soothing anti-stress...everything. All the things. She responds to stress by punching. Deliver from safe, non-punchable distance.

All in all? My Dash? Needs more Dash! Give the popular kids a chance to prove they aren't just cardboard cut outs! That they can grow beyond the roles high-school and society has pushed them into! Give them some trauma! Why only Danny? Spread the psychic damage!

@stealingyourbones @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #dp prompt #dash baxter

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delaber · 2 years ago

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Warrior/Worrier (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Words: 5.3K

Fluff, fluff and fluff and a lil bit of angst. Classic hurt/comfort and friends to lovers

Through the darkness, there's a knock on your bedroom door, so soft, so cautious, that if you hadn't already been half-awake, you're not sure you would've caught it.

Legs quickly swung over the side of your mattress, you stop and focus at a fixpoint in your moonlit room.

According to the big mission schedule hung in Steve's office, you should be the only one at the compound, so you cannot for the life in you figure out who would rap on your door at 3.30 in the morning, but it wasn't just something you'd imagined because there it is again. A knock, not much louder than before, but definitely there.

For a brief second, your foggy brain ponders that it's likely someone who's been sent to kill you in the dead of night, but before you've even reached for your bedside Beretta, rationality reminds you that they probably wouldn't have had the curtesy to knock first - and then it dawns on you.

"Nat," you sigh with a roll of your eyes and let your bare feet hit the floor while you rub the sleep from off your face. It's not the first time she's forgotten the lock combination to her room after post-mission drinks.

Slowly, you walk across the cold floorboards and over to the wooden door where you can hear ragged breathing from the other side of the wall. Hand lazily pulling the door open, you start talking before you've seen who's on the other side.

"It's only four digits and you're panic breathing?" you chuckle but is immediately taken aback when you're not met by Natasha but instead by your best friend. "...Buck?"

He's back from his mission a day earlier than you'd expected and you're just about to crack a witty comment on how you'd told him that Sam couldn't stand to be alone with him for more than thirty-six hours, but then you notice the state he's in.

His entire body is slumped over as he clutches his right arm tight to his chest, eyes droopy and blank, cheekbones dotted by freckles of soot and framed by thick strands of auburn hair caked in dried blood. "Doll," he breathes painfully and takes a step closer, looking only mildly relieved to see you.

"Buck!" you hiss in fear and grab both his cheeks, but his dirty face just drops further, and he can't even look at you though you're standing mere inches apart.

"I know it's late," he mumbles with his gaze downcast, "but can I come in?"

It's as if you don't hear him clearly enough to respond. His voice is under water and at the same time layers above you while you're far too concerned with every look of horror splashed across his handsome face, your hands frantically clutching his bloodied cheeks as you desperately search his eyes though he still won't look at you. "What happened? Where's all this blood coming from?"

"It's - it's not mine..." he croaks with a small shake of his head.

Fear ripples through your entire body one more time and you can barely speak as you imagine the worst possible scenario that might have caused Bucky to behave like this. "Is it... Sam?" you whimper with tears already burning in your eyes, fighting the urge to throw up.

"He's fine," Bucky quickly interrupts with a small nod, "I dropped him off at his girl's place twenty minutes ago," he croaks and finally looks up at you, his eyes more broken than you've ever seen them before. It makes your heart crack in two. "Sweetheart, can I please come in?"

"Oh god," you pant anxiously and reluctantly let your fingers slide off his cheeks as you step to the side and finally let him inside your bedroom. "Yes, yes of course you can come in."

Immediately, he's on your bed, his face buried in his vibranium hand as the pads of his fingers start rubbing circles over his dusty forehead.

"What happened?" you barely manage to croak as you sit down beside him and carefully place a hand on his rigid thigh. "Last time I heard from you, everything was going according to plan."

"I don't want to talk about it," he gulps and starts rubbing his face even more agitatedly, looking over at you with an apologetic look on his face. "- not right now... I just had to see you. I'm sorry I woke you up."

You grab his vibranium hand and bring it down to his lap to get him to stop his frantic movements and he immediately squeezes you tight, letting out another heart-breaking sob.

"It's okay, Buck. I'm glad you're here."

Over the last year, you've seen Bucky on his darkest days a handful of times, and he usually has the same look on his face, but this time, it's different. It's deeper. Despondent and morose, the anger that's usually posessing him om the bleaker days replaced by a different kind of sadness.

Something really bad must've happened...

"Do you wanna sleep in here tonight?" you ask, unsure how to tackle this the best way possible if you don't want him to shield himself off in his room the way he usually does when he's not feeling his best. He shouldn't be alone under any circumstances.

You're half expecting him to protest, but to your surprise he starts nodding, relieved. "Thank you," he whispers and squeezes your hand tight again.

You make an attempt at a comforting touch as you brush over the soot on his cheeks, making a strand of dirty hair dipped in dried blood fall from his forehead. "You want a shower? I can draw you a bath."

He nods again.

"Come on, love," you say quietly and watch as he gulps hard at the sound of the tender pet-name that you've been wanting to call him for months now but haven't had the guts to say out loud until it accidentally slips past your lips. Surprisingly, you're not even embarrassed by yourself. You suppose there are more important things to worry about than an accidental profession of love in a moment of gentle affection.

Bucky seems taken aback too, frozen, and full of wonder, but he shakes it off and lets you pull him to your small bathroom, accepting your fluffiest towel without a word as he continues staring at you.

"I'll be just outside, okay?" you say reassuringly as you turn on the water in your bathtub, making sure it's the right temperature before putting in the drain stopper.

He's still looking at you with huge eyes, flesh arm clutched to his chest while the fluffy white towel gently supports his elbow. You silently wonder if he's hurt but before you can ask him, he speaks.

"Can you... stay?" He asks quietly, biting his inner cheek, unsure if his request is too much.

Still, it's your turn to be taken aback. You and Bucky are close but not like that.

"Stay?" you instinctively furrow your eyebrows, "while you shower?

He immediately clenches his jaw shut and shakes his head while small patches of pink appear on his cheeks underneath all the dirt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no it's okay," you quickly stand up from your position by the tub spout so you're once again levelled. "- I was just surprised, that's all," you want to smack yourself for making him doubt himself. "Of course I'll stay."

Ice blue irises slowly find yours while the rose tint of his lower lip is being pulled between his teeth. "Are you sure?" he hesitates while sucking in some air, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."

"You're not," you touch your hand to his sternum to underline your words and watches as the crease between his eyebrows slowly reduces as he gradually relaxes under your touch. You can't help but think that even through all the dust and the grime, he looks incredibly beautiful.

"Let me give you some privacy," you unwillingly let go of him and turn away so he can undress in peace.

From behind you, you can hear the ruffle of his tac pants being pushed down his legs before the belt buckle clangs loudly against the tiles of the floor. It's followed by a series of loud painful grunts and hisses a few seconds later.

"Are you okay?" you ask and turn your head to the side, careful not to look directly at him as to not break the trust he put in you when he asked you to stay. "Buck?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he sighs in embarrassment behind you, "it's just... do you think you could... help me?"

You turn around slowly to find him standing in the middle of the bathroom still wearing his torn t-shirt and Kevlar vest, bare-legged in boxer shorts and black socks pulled high up on his calf while his pants are lying crumbled on the floor beside him. He's awkwardly shifting the weight between his two feet, still clutching his right arm tightly. "It's my elbow."

Immediately, you furrow your eyebrows and walk over to him, taking his right hand in yours. "Yeah, I meant to ask you earlier. What happened?"

He doesn't answer but just silently lets you examine the swelling and black-purple skin that's half-hidden underneath dust and blood.

"Shit," you breathe and hear him give out a sharp hiss when you turn his arm over so you can examine the other side, "Buck, I think your elbow's torn."

"Me too," he gulps, "- I heard it snap."

At the mere thought of the sound, a wave of nausea hits you square in the chest and your stomach starts to churn. You can feel the tang of acid push up on your tongue when you imagine the pain he must've been enduring - still is enduring - but you fight it relentlessly and eventually manage to swallow down the bile. You should be taking care of him, not the other way around.

"We should go down to the infirmary," you say and keep your gaze firmly placed on the purple bruising, so he doesn't notice your discomfort. "I know it probably won't take too long to heal with the serum and all but just to make su-"

"Sweetheart," he gulps from above you and it makes you stop mid-sentence. "Not tonight, okay? I just wanna stay here tonight."

You look up at him, about to protest, but the words quickly die in your throat when you notice the look he's wearing. He's begging. Anxious. Heavy-hearted.

"Okay," you reluctantly agree and carefully let go of his arm while he sends you a grateful look. "Come on, let me help you out of this," you say quietly in defeat and unstrap his vest beneath his ribs, pulling the Kevlar plates over his head while he groans loudly.

"Ah!" he hisses and clutches his elbow tight, squeezing his eyes shut when you try and pull his t-shirt over his head. "Fuck!"

"You good?"

"Mm-hmm" he hums displeased with lips pressed so tightly together they're forming a thin, white line. "Just get it over with."

You pull on the hem again so the dark fabric rides up his stomach, revealing scarred skin pulled tight over the bulging muscles you've spent so many warm summer days discreetly staring at. "Can you reach your arms just a little higher?" you ask and watch how his diaphragm heaves in small electric shocks when he cannot control the loud gasps that escape his throat.

"Fuck me!" He hisses and squeezes his eyes so tightly shut that his entire face pales. "Just rip the damn fabric off," he hisses angrily, "I can't extend my fucking arm."

"Are you sure you don't wanna get it checked out in the med wing?" You let go of his t-shirt and look him deep in the eye, hoping your concerned gaze can convince him that it'll be worth the trip just to get your jumping nerves under control.

"Just... get me out of this thing," he sighs in defeat. "Cut it open, I don't care."

Disinclined, you dive down in the drawer underneath your sink, pulling out a small flat-legged scissor that came with a roll of gauze you bought last year when you had a nasty wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Are you sure?" You look up at him as you put the blade underneath the hem of his t-shirt.

Through the fingers you have placed over his chest, you can feel how his pulse quickly falls again when your eyes meet.

"S'just a t-shirt," he mumbles quietly while nodding, "I'm sure..."

Though you want to stay in this position forever, you slowly look away from him and down at your hands as your hesitantly start cutting, careful not to pierce Bucky's flesh with the sharp scissors.

The blade runs through the fabric like a hot knife through butter and you can feel every tense muscle that the edge of the scissors encounters as they travel over his warm stomach and chest. It makes the blood roar in your ears as more and more skin is revealed underneath your fingertips.

Concentrated on not hurting him even more, you keep your gaze firmly placed on his heavily panting chest as you cut open the front of his black shirt and carefully peel the fabric off his bruised arm until he's standing in front of you in nothing but black boxers and socks, his left hand carefully reaching out for yours as if to comfort both of you.

You've seen him bare chested several times before, but it's never been in this close proximity, never been this intimate, just the two of you holding hands and looking each other deep in the eye as you silently try to assure the other that everything is going to be okay.

"So..." you clear your throat, embarrassed by the fact that you have to hold yourself back from leaning forwards, planting a small kiss on his dusty cheek. "- I take it you can shimmy your way out of those on your own, right?" You nod down towards his boxers and he blinks as if he's just woken up from a trance.

"Yeah," he nods and lets go of your hand while the pink patches make a reappearance on his face.

Slowly, you turn around facing the running spout in the tub to the soft sound of cotton hitting the floor behind you. Involuntarily, you give out a gulp and flusteredly grab the box of bath salts just to give your shaking hands something to do. You cannot believe that your extremely fuckable best friend is standing naked in your bathroom no more than two feet away, begging you to stay close to him.

Eyes still firmly placed on the water in the tub, you point over your shoulder to the rainfall shower in the opposite corner of the bathroom. "You wanna rinse off first?"

"I better," Bucky hesitates behind you. "Don't you think?"

"It'll be a much nicer bath if you do," you awkwardly clear your throat.

"Yeah, you're right," he sighs and turns on the shower, immediately stepping inside and closing the glass door behind him so you can finally breathe freely again.

Through the mirror above the sink, you can make out his naked silhouette behind the matte glass and how the tension in his shoulders first tenfolds and then completely disappears the minute the water turns warm and he relaxes. He lets his forehead fall forwards so it's pressed up against the cold tiles while the water runs over his defined shoulders and down his sculpted back, and you literally have to force your eyes away from him and the shape of his handsome torso.

With your gaze fixed firmly on the fuzzy bathmat at the foot of the shower, you hear the sound of your bath gel being opened, followed by a series of painful grunts as Bucky desperately tries to lather himself with the soap.

"Fuck," he mumbles quietly and before you've even voiced a single word of concern, he continues. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to ask..." he says a little louder, the embararssement still evident in his voice, "- but I'm gonna need a little help in here... it's - it's this damn elbow," he sighs, "I'm useless. Can you...?" his voice trails off and the question hangs thickly in the air between you.

He wants you to join him.

To wash him.

Take care of him.

The thought alone makes you nervous, you have to admit, but he needs your help and you're willing to do anything for him.

"Give me a minute," you gulp and strip down to your panties, pulling on the bra you wore earlier so you're not completely bare in there. Several times, you've dreamt of you and Bucky naked together, but not like this - never like this - and you'll be damned if the first time he sees you without a shred of clothes is because he needs help and not because he needs you.

With your pyjamas neatly folded on top of the toilet seat cover, you take a final look at yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out of your eyes before nervously reaching for the shower door with shaking hands.

He's still standing with his chiselled back towards you, letting the water rinse over his dirty hair and down between his shoulder blades with a slightly pinkish hue. "I'm so sorry about this," he mumbles uncomfortably and hands you your loofah behind his back. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Come on, Buck," you say as you dribble a little soap on the sponge, fighting the urge to let your gaze run all the way down to his thick thighs. "Don't beat yourself up, you know I'm always here for you."

"Still," he mumbles and goes silent as the loofah gently runs over his tense shoulders and traces down his spine.

The white soap bubbles work magic on his dirty skin and you make sure not to leave out a single square inch of his scarred backside as you wash him while fighting the urge to wrap your arms around his torso, telling him how glad you are that he not alone came home, but also that he came to you seeking help instead of barricading himself in his room. It seems significant that he's here, as if something's changed between you though you cannot put your finger on it.

Completely lost in thought, you accidentally run the loofah a little too vigorously over his right tricep, sending shockwaves down his broken bone and resulting in a painful hiss falling from his open mouth.

"Sorry," you mumble, and scrub down his lower back, this time more careful with your movements though there aren't any dirty or bloody spots left on either side of his spine. "There we go" you conclude quietly when you realise that the rinsing water has finally lost its pink and grimy hue. "Turn around," you ask and hope he cannot hear the nervousness straining your voice. No matter what, you're not looking down.

Bucky seems just as jittery about his compromising position as you do, and he slowly spins around, revealing pink cheeks and heaving pecs, his gaze glued to the ceiling as he looks as if he's ready to fling himself off the nearest cliff. "God, sweetheart," he mumbles and breathes hard, "I'm so sorry for all this."

"Bucky, come on - what'd I tell you?" you touch the loofah to his chest, careful not to look anywhere than at the sponge itself as it traces over his collar bones and down his handsome stomach.

He merely sighs and stands completely still while you rinse the crevices between the metal plates over his left clavicle, careful not to move his torso so much he hisses in pain again.

"...You're a good friend," he mumbles after a few focused minutes where you've carefully been scrubbing the gold-plated lines in the vibranium, "- I ever tell you that?"

"All the time," you smile genuinely for the first time since he knocked on your door earlier that evening. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Bucky Barnes appreciates you more than anything.

"I mean it," he says, "never doubt that."

You look up into his eyes.

He looks so soft and innocent as he stands before you, face finally clean, wet hair sticking to his forehead while he professes his love for you. Even if it's just platonic, it makes your heart skip a beat.

"I know, Buck."

"Good," he nods and blinks a few times with heavy, wet lashes framing his cerulean eyes. The air between you is thicker than ever and for a brief moment, it looks as if he's about to lean in and kiss you, but you break the tension by looking away. You don't want to take advantage of his vulnerable state no matter how badly you want that kiss.

"You ready for the tub?" You ask him in a weirdly shaky voice.

He nods while an almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips. "Yeah," he says and turns off the water, quickly exiting the shower before you can take notice of the disappointment burning on his skin.

You dry your feet on the small fuzzy mat, carefully watching Bucky's naked backside as he tests the temperature in the tub by dipping his toe in the water before stepping over the porcelain edge, sitting himself down.

Immediately, he gives out a content sigh, and drapes right arm over his chest, supporting his broken elbow with vibranium fingers, and you finally deem the situation safe enough to approach him again.

"Want me to wash your hair?"

"Mmh" he hums with closed eyes, immediately more relaxed now that he's covered by water. "I don't deserve you."

You grab your shampoo bottle and push out a decent amount of liquid, pressing it to his warm scalp to the sound of an alleviated sigh falling from his lips as you carefully start massaging it into his roots.

"Does that feel good?" you ask through a smile.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he groans quietly, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter awake, "- feels amazing."

You're slowly lathering shampoo into his long hair, enjoying the feel of him underneath your fingertips, how his soft hair slips through your hands while also trying not to think too much about the kiss you robbed yourself of in the shower. You can hear how his breathing slowly steadies and you think that maybe he's in the early stages of sleep but then he unexpectedly heaves a deep breath -

"You know... I haven't been scared of death for a long time," he says so sudden, so seriously that you're immediately brought out of your trance as your every muscle freezes at his austere tone of voice. "I used to not care if I lived or died but... tonight didn't go as planned," he swallows thickly and you can see how his jaw tenses up as his voice becomes husky, "- they... had me."

"What?" you pant with mortification, your every skeletal muscle paralysed as your breathing picks up. You don't have to ask him who he's talking about.

"Sam and I, we were so sure of ourselves," he shakes his head with his gaze fixed on the wall straight ahead. "We thought had the perfect plan... I - I'm such an idiot, nothing ever runs smoothly with Hydra."

You can feel your heart thumping in your throat. "What happened?" You whisper.

"Sam was on the look-out while I got the hard drive," he mumbles, "it was so easy. It didn't even take me five minutes before I was heading back towards the safehouse," he gulps, "- of course it was an ambush. I should have realised the minute I set foot inside that building."

"You couldn't have known," you whimper softly and stroke his scalp, but he doesn't listen.

"- I thought I was..." the words drown in a heavy sigh, and he stares blankly into space while blinking the tears away.

"Buck," you whisper and can feel the pain radiating from every fibre of his entire being when you wrap your arms around his wet torso and hold him close to your chest.

"They took me to a room. Strapped me down," he takes a ragged breath, and you hold on to him even tighter, "I was sure that was it. I never thought I'd find myself home again."

"You're home now," you whisper and softly kiss his shoulder, hoping that he doesn't feel the tear that lands on top of his clavicle. "You're home now with me."

"I know, sweetheart," he leans into your hug with a sigh, "trust me, I know."

"Everything's gonna be alright, love," you whisper against him and stroke your hand over his hair, "it's you and me against the world, always."

"You and me," he quietly confirms and leans back into your chest with a deep breath.

You continue stroking him over the hair, hold on to him for dear life, not willing to let go as you feel him relax more and more in your arms until he starts snoring slightly, finally warm and safe in your embrace.

"Buck, come on," you instinctively kiss him right below his ear, "you're sleeping. Let's get you into bed."

"Sorry," he mumbles groggily and lets his head fall back against your shoulder. "m'just so fucking tired. Been up thirty-six hours..."

"We'll talk tomorrow," you kiss him again and unwillingly unwrap yourself from around his chest, standing up straight beside him. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

He's looking up at you with puppy eyes, gaze slowly travelling down your body and up again as if he hadn't realised you were in your lingerie until that exact moment. "You look beautiful," he says quietly and you half-expect him to laugh it off, but his face stays serious.

"...Thanks," you croak while handing him the fluffy towel, not sure how to react to his sweet words. He's called you many things, but he's never downright called you beautiful before.

"I can take it from here, sweetheart," he nods slowly and steals one last glance down at your body, "you just go to bed. I'll be in in a minute."

"Okay," you whisper and peel yourself away from the tension between you by swiftly turning around, exiting the bathroom.

Back in your room, you barely have time to get out of your wet underwear and put on a fresh set of pyjamas, before a boxer-clad Bucky joins you on the bed.

"Are you still okay with me staying the night?" He asks, nervously.

"Of course I am," you answer immediately and find his vibranium hand underneath the covers, lacing your fingers between his as you scan his weary features. "See if you can get some sleep, okay? You need it," you brush a strand of wet hair away from his face and make sure he's fine by gently cupping his cheek before closing your eyes, hoping he's following your lead, doing the same.

The dark room goes completely quiet for a few minutes where the only audible sound is of your synchronised breathing.

You can feel yourself grow impossibly tired too as you lie there hand in hand with Bucky, and you're just about to succumb to sleep, when suddenly, his quiet whisper breaks the silence.

"I thought about you," he says softly, and it makes you open your eyes again.

You're staring straight into his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes scanning over your features as he slowly clarifies.

"When they had me strapped down, I thought about you," he moves his fingers against the palm of your hand and completely engulfs you. "The thought of not seeing you again was..." the words die in his throat, and he looks as if he's seconds away from whimpering. "- Sweetheart, you make me so afraid of dying."

You breathe hard with quivering lips, huge eyes matching his as you let his confession sink in.

"I was so desperate to come home, I snapped the restraints in half. Snapped my own elbow along with them," he winces slightly at the painful memory that once again makes your stomach churn. "Sweetheart, I fought like hell. I don't think I've ever been so angry... I - I killed everyone I could get my hands on, I just had to see you again," he brings your hand to his soft lips and kisses the delicate pulse point of your wrist.

"Buck..." a slow whine escapes your throat as you try to blink away a stubborn tear that slowly starts rolling down the side of your nose.

"I love you," he whispers so softly against your thin skin that you almost don't hear. His eyes are closed and he looks relieved to be lying here with you, so you carefully pull his hand to your chest, placing his vibranium palm above your heavily beating heart.

"I love you too."

"Sweetheart," he whispers above you and moves his hand a little on top of your soft pyjamas while lightly shaking his head with a sigh. "No, you don't understand..." he gulps and searches your face, "I love you."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"- I want more than this," he slowly admits. "I want to be more than your friend. I'm in love with you."

You squeeze his hand and move a little closer to him, scared that he'll stop confessing his love if you say something to throw him off track.

He holds on to you and can feel how your pulse starts racing underneath your pyjamas. "I hope I'm not scaring you off."

"No, no you're not," you say in a hoarse voice, "not at all. I - I think about you all the time."

"You do?" He breathes hard, clearly not believing what he's hearing.

"Yeah," you merely nod and move your head a little closer to him while he does the same. "I'm in love with you too, Buck. Have been for quite some time."

With a serious look, he moves his hand from off your chest and up to your face where he brushes a finger over the delicate features of your cheekbone and down to your jawline. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he warns in a whisper and waits for you to give him a nod before he reaches his head forwards, finally claiming your mouth with his lips.

His hand snakes down the length of your spine and you press your entire front up against his hard chest and stomach while he caresses the small of your back, slipping his soft tongue inside your mouth. "God," he moans and gently grabs hold of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him. "You make me feel whole again," he whispers against your skin and kisses a small line from your earlobe and down to the base of your clavicle. "What do you say sweetheart?" he mumbles and nibbles at your skin, "can I take you out?"

"Yeah, Buck, you can take me out," you squeeze his hand, and he smiles for the first time that evening, setting everything inside of you aflame.

He's finally smiling and it's because of you.

"I wanna do it the old-fashioned way," he says, beaming, "bring you flowers. Take you dancing. Show you how you're supposed to be treated."

You can't help but chuckle at his soft innocence. "You're an old man," you brush him over his hair, "nobody goes dancing anymore."

"I'll teach you," he chuckles back but lets it turn into a sharp hiss when he accidentally moves his broken elbow.

"That sounds lovely," you admit with a smile, excited at the prospect of having his hands on your hips while he tells you what to do, "- though I'm afraid we'll have to get that elbow sorted first if you want to manoeuvre me around on the dancefloor. I know you don't see the point in going but... med wing tomorrow morning?"

"Okay," he rolls his eyes with a laugh that makes your stomach go all warm and fuzzy. "If it gets me to go dancing with you just an hour earlier, it's worth the trip... Will you go with me?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you," you kiss his hand, and he chuckles so warmly your stomach lights up again. "I'll go with you always."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes hurt/comfort #bucky barnes friends to lovers

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heli-writes · 8 months ago

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A dragon's heart, part 5.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Series Masterlist

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

Katsuki holds onto y/n and the reigns of the dragon with all his strength. Y/n notices how his breath comes out heavier with every passing minute.

"Katsuki, I think we should land. You're going to pass out.", y/n tells him knowing he won't understand a thing. Katsuki lets out an indecipherable mutter.

Y/n grips his arm and tries to turn around in order to look at his face. "Katsuki.", y/n says insistently. Katsuki nods into her shoulder and gives the reigns a weak pull. The dragon understands its master and starts descending.

The dragon lands near a small lake. Katsuki has trouble getting out of the saddle. His feet hit the ground heavily and he groans in pain. Unsteadily, he tries to reach for y/n but she refuses his arm. It's probably safer to get off her own than to rely on Katsuki right now.

When she manages to get down from the beast, Katsuki's already sitting on the ground catching his breath. Y/n takes the water bottle and walks over to him. She opens the bottle for him and hands it over. Katsuki drinks in greedy swallows.

Meanwhile, y/n takes in the view of him. The cuts on his cheek and bicep have stopped bleeding but something's wrong with his leg. It's soaked in blood. Y/n gets up and goes looking for the medicine kit Katsuki keeps in one of the bags.

When she's found it, she returns to the man sitting on the ground. "Katsuki", she calls out to him and sits down next to him. Katsuki glances at her but doesn't react and only pours more water down his throat. Y/n starts unpacking the medicine kit looking for the things she might need.

"I need to see your leg.", she tells him and points at his leg. Katsuki shifts and lets y/n see the wound. It's deep. "This won't kill you unless it gets infected.", she tells him. "You will also need stitches.", she mumbles while looking for alcohol and threat and needle.

"Take off your pants.", she tells him when she has gathered all the supplies needed. Katsuki shifts uncomfortably, probably to give her better access to his leg. "Yeah, that won't do it.", y/n deadpans. "The pants. It needs to go off.", she repeats. Katsuki grunts as a response. Y/n rolls her eyes. Even if he doesn't speak her language, he could still respond properly. "Pants. Off.", she repeats and motions at his crotch.

Katsuki is starting to get annoyed. He's in pain and he doesn't understand what this woman wants from him. Y/n lets out an exaggerated sigh. She stares at Katsuki for a moment while figuring out her next move. "Alright, then.", she says and reaches for his pants.

"What the fuck!", Katsuki exclaims and catches y/n's wrist with his hand. "Keep your hands to yourself, woman!", he growls. Y/n stays still for a moment. Clearly, Katsuki is not a fan of what he's supposed to do. "You need to let me go, Katsuki. If you want me to stitch you up, I need to see the whole wound.", she tells him and reaches for the buttons of his pants again.

"What the hell are you doing?", Katsuki yells at her and grips her wrist tighter. He's embarrassed. Not only he got hurt and this weak woman has to take of him, but now he also is supposed to expose himself in front of her. Y/n gets irritated by his loud voice and actions.

"Cut the crap, Katsuki!", y/n yells back at him. "You walk around half-naked all the time and now you get shy?", she barks. Katsuki looks taken aback. "Seriously, I can cut up your pants if you prefer but then you will have no pants to wear at all. Is that better?", she keeps scolding him.

Katsuki lets go of her wrist in surprise. He didn't expect the woman to raise her voice at him. Y/n's brows are furrowed in anger. Her cheeks are blushed and she wrinkles her nose a bit. Katsuki didn't expect her to get angry or to look this cute when she is. Y/n keeps glaring at him but doesn't move. Katsuki grinds his teeth. Eventually, he pulls his hands away completely.

Finally, y/n reaches for his pants button and opens them. She helps Katsuki shimmy out of his pants being particularly careful when they have to pull the fabric over the wound. Katsuki's face is burning red and he avoids y/n's eyes staring at the sky angrily.

Y/n shakes her head in dismissal. "Seriously, didn't think for you to be the shy type.", she tells him as she takes the bottle of alcohol. Katsuki doesn't answer her and keeps staring at the sky. Truth is, Katsuki's not shy. He's proud of his body, dick included. If a woman wanted to see it, Katsuki would be cocky and eager to show. However, this is different. Right now, he's in a weak position and y/n holds a certain power considering he needs to entrust his wounds to her. It doesn't sit right with him submitting further to her by taking off his pants.

"Alright, this is going to sting.", she warns him as she pours the alcohol over the wound. Katsuki doesn't even flinch. His muscles tighten however indicating that he does feel the pain. Y/n lets the needle and threat soak in the alcohol for a moment. Meanwhile, she takes a cloth and the alcohol and starts cleaning the wound on Katsuki's bicep.

When she's done with that, she moves to the cut on his face. She's met with Katsuki's angry stare. She holds his stare. No way she's going to yield when she's the one helping him. She reaches for his face and carefully cleans the wound on his face. The alcohol must sting otherwise Katsuki wouldn't break eye contact with y/n all of a sudden.

Y/n sighs. She feels bad for Katsuki. He fought bravely. It's unfair he got hurt in the first place. Carefully, she raises her hand to his other cheek and lets her thumb run over his cheek. Now, Katsuki avoids eye contact on purpose. He's not used to a tender touch like this and it makes him feel uncomfortable. Y/n has to snicker at his stiffness.

Katsuki finds y/n's eyes again when he hears her soft giggle. He's surprised to find her looking at him softly. It makes his stomach feel all tingly and mushy. Meanwhile, y/n enjoys seeing the mighty Katsuki Bakugou all flushed and embarrassed. She decides to push it a little bit further by reaching for his face again planting a soft kiss on his cheek. When Katsuki instantly turns his face away. Y/n has to laugh at his beet-red face.

"You're a bitch, you know that?", Katsuki mumbles. Y/n continues to chuckle to herself but continues to clean the wound. When she's done, she picks up thread and needle. "Alright, this is really going to hurt now.", she tells him and points at his leg. Katsuki nods and prepares himself for the pain. It's not the first time, he needs stitches.

Y/n works quickly and carefully. It's actually also not the first time, she's stitched someone up. She can hear Katsuki grinding his teeth in pain. If she didn't need to concentrate right now, she would tell him that he was damaging his teeth. When she's done, she puts some rash cream onto the stitches and wraps some bandages around it.

Katsuki's relieved that y/n's done. He has to say, she worked quite expertly on his wounds. Clearly, she has done this before. He relaxes a bit and only grunts at y/n when she pats his head. He lets his back flop onto the ground. He's absolutely spent.

Y/n starts to unload the dragon who watched the two of them intently the whole time. She fetches the bedroll and Katsuki's cape. After she has prepared the bedding, she helps Katsuki to get on it and puts the cape over his leg. His pants need to be cleaned and mended first. Katsuki doesn't even argue with her about it. He's out within minutes.

Y/n watches Katsuki snore and she finds herself worrying over him. She's sure she did a good job treating the wounds but there's always the danger of infection. She tries to get the worry out of her head by setting up camp. She builds a small fireplace and unloads the bags. Then, she sets out to find something to eat.

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

Unfortunately, y/n isn't a great hunter even if she had a bow and arrows. Therefore, she can only stick to gathering wild vegetables, berries and mushrooms. She fries them in a pan with some fat and the spices Katsuki carries with him.

The smell of the food wakes Katsuki up. The sun is just about to set. Y/n is kneeling next to the fireplace cooking food. He groans as he sets up. The adrenaline of the fight kept the pain in moderation. After taking a nap, the pain hits him in full force.

When y/n hears him groan, she swirls around, a worried look on her face. Katsuki tries to wave her off, not wanting to have the woman fretting over him. Y/n hurries over to him nevertheless and checks his forehead. If he got an infection, he wouldn't have a fever already but one can never be too sure. Katsuki slaps her hand away and gives her a sort of growl. Y/n snickers at him which makes Katsuki a bit angry. But not too much. He doesn't want to admit it to himself yet but he likes that y/n is worried about him.

Y/n disappears for a moment and fetches him a plate of food. While Katsuki eats, y/n starts boiling water for tea. Katsuki watches her carefully.

Y/n moves around relaxed and confident. Katsuki thinks back to the frightened woman who arrived at his camp just mere days ago. He prefers this version of y/n to the jumpy, insecure girl he met. He picks at the food she has made. It's quite good for the simple ingredients she had at her disposal. Considering this and the way she treated his wounds, she'd make a good mate, Katsuki decides.

He snickers at the thought how she got angry at him earlier. She sure as fuck has got some fire in her, he thinks. He has to admit he was surprised when she jumped on the bandit's back earlier. He thought the attack would leave her frozen in fear. She also stabbed a man's hand without thinking twice. Considering this, it's surprising that she didn't stand up to the men who hunted her. Then again, they outnumbered her and carried long-distance weapons.

Katsuki is ripped out of his thoughts when y/n stands in front of him handing him a cup of hot tea. He takes the cup from her and y/n sits down with a plate of food for herself. He watches her eat.

"Why are you staring at me like this?", y/n asks growing irritated by how intensely Katsuki is staring at her. She's noticed it earlier when she boiled the water. She puts her fork down and meets Katsuki's gaze. Katsuki holds her gaze, then lifts his hand and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. This takes y/n by surprise and she feels heat rushing into her cheeks.

So far she's seen Katsuki angry, irritated and more angry. While he wasn't necessarily violent towards her, he's always rough and kind of mean. This tenderness is something that catches y/n off guard. "It's probably the pain and exhaustion that makes him this way.", she thinks to herself.

After dinner, y/n tidies up around camp for a little bit while Katsuki settles back onto the bedroll. When she's done, she sits next to the fire poking the hot embers. Katsuki props his head onto his hand wondering what she's doing. It's time to settle for the night.

Despite that, y/n feels restless. The attack today caught both of them off guard. Y/n can't deny that she wasn't paying attention. She totally relied on Katsuki for the whole trip. She figured that Katsuki would catch something like this before her anyway. And if not him, then the dragon. She decided that she will keep watch tonight. Katsuki's not in the condition to fight, so she will ensure their safety somehow.

"Y/n.", Katsuki calls out to her. His voice sounds low and raspy but not angry. It's surprisingly quiet for a man who always speaks so loudly. Y/n turns around to him in surprise. It's the first time Katsuki ever said her name. "Y/n, come over here.", Katsuki tells her even though he knows y/n doesn't understand him.

To his astonishment, y/n does get up and walks over to him. She lets herself plop onto the ground next to him. Katsuki makes grimace. It's not exactly what he meant but he takes it.

Sitting up, y/n keeps her eyes focused on their surroundings. She doesn't want another surprise attack to happen, especially now that Katsuki is injured.

Katsuki watches y/n's intense stare into the distance with discontent. While he does find it amusing that frail little y/n looks so determined (as if she could actually protect them in case of danger), he also finds himself getting increasingly irritated. Katsuki Bakugou doesn't like to be ignored.

“Oi!“, Katsuki barks. Y/n's eyes are still focused on something far away. “Oi!”, Katsuki repeats louder and nudges her. Y/n is ripped out of her thoughts. “Hm?”, she mumbles and turns her head to him. “It's getting cold. Come here!”, Katsuki demands and pats onto a spot closer to him. Y/n crooks her head. “What do you want?”, she asks and shrugs.

Katsuki is not used to having to ask twice for what he wants. Usually, his people hurry to follow his orders, or, he just takes what he wants.

Katsuki grabs y/n's injured shoulder and pulls her down to his level. The stinging pain in y/n's shoulder keeps her from struggling against Katsuki's action. Before she knows it, she is tucked under Katsuki's armpit. Her head is leaned against his shoulder as he curls his arm around her tucking her closely to his side.

Relaxed, Katsuki leans back. Meanwhile, y/n is frozen stiff in place. She didn't expect Katsuki to make such a move on her. Actually, she didn't expect Katsuki to make any move on her at all. So far, he didn't seem interested in her like that. She assumed she was more like a burden to him... or a pet to take care of.

Y/n doesn't even try to get out of Katsuki's grip. Instead, she tries to relax. Which proves itself kind of hard. Katsuki's too close. He's radiating off warmth and his smell floods y/n's senses. It's hard to tune out his presence and the proximity.

Maybe she shouldn't be embarrassed about this. It's not like she didn't think about Katsuki like this before. It certainly flashed in her mind here and there. Despite his mean demeanor and wild look, he's still an attractive man and y/n is only human. Previously, she felt silly for thinking this way about him. One does think about the barbarian leader like that. One fears him. However, it's hard to fear him in moments like this. He's more human than he leads on and in these moments it shows.

Y/n sighs and twists in Katsuki's arms. Katsuki grunts in response and pulls her closer. Y/n stops moving and lies awake. The light from the fire slowly fades as the fire goes out. Eventually, Katsuki's breath slows down and his grip becomes less tight.

Y/n can't sleep. She feels too anxious. She's not sure whether it's because of what happened today or because Katsuki keeps her so close. When she's sure Katsuki is sound asleep, she slips out of his grip. She walks over to the dragon who seems asleep as well. She plops down next to the beast and leans against it.

With open ears, she stares into the night.

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

Tag list: @graviewaviee @cosmicbreathe @tsukikoxo @nnubee @witchbishsblog @elajede @bsallergy @frxcless @berryvioo @eyesforbkg @shamelesjaroflaffytaffy @pastelbaby1111 @iamlizardgod @plvt0fvtvre @hello-peanutdoodle-blog @guccirosegold @kookiemyfeelsposts @sweetblueworm @54fangirl @sakurarr1122 @rv19 @leeliyah @king-dynamight @confused-smol-fan @xmaudx @waterstarz @pinkwhiskerglitter @adeline96 @zoom1374 @fingui @giuli-in-earth @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @futuristicallykawaiiturtle @tragedyofabrokensoul @dynakats @rebel-loves-anime @cloudxluv @itsssyagurll @sunshineandwitchery @cloudxluv @hollykanuki @atouchofmidnight @nutellaenjoyer @musicbecky @miacitocco @cassouandco @penguinlovestowrite @sleepykittycx @bakugouswh0r3 @xxjesshuxx @helenamaximoff @ssssssws-world @k1tk4tkatsuki @gh0stgirl333 @anon-mouse223 @bexxs @i-am-ms-rebel-heart @wannabeisekai @spragaraga @faemagic88 @kolakoke @faetoraa @cax-per

[Please comment if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

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astorianyxkings · 10 months ago

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Oldest Daughter Dick™ is probably one of my favourite things ever. And it always will be and here's why:

Of course Dick loves his siblings and of course he loves that they know Bruce as the father he is. But it won't stop the jealousy he feels. And no one gets it, not even Jason. They were all raised by Bruce Wayne, he was raised by Batman.

When Dick came to live with him, Bruce had no idea how to he a father. How to handle normal kid stuff like sicknesses and school events let alone the fact he was an acrobat. He was Batman and Dick was raised to be not just his successor but the only contingency plan he had against himself.

Bruce never held his punches ("That was a good block but I still got you, didn't I?" Bruce had said, rubbing cream into the blossoming bruise on Dick's side. "I'll get you next time," Dick had promised, young eyes challenging. "You better." Bruce had grinned back.) All attacks were to remind him that he was at a disadvantage strength wise and thus needed to re-evaluate his lines of defense and offense.

Dick was raised by the paranoid-in-his-late-twenties-probably-shouldn't-be-a-dad-despite-what-Marisol-said Bat. A fun game of catch? He was dodging Batarangs. Learning to drive? It was the Batmobile and he was age 14 (and a half). School events? He was fumbling, awkward and did not want to be there (but still was because he'll be damned if his boy didn't have his support.)

And you know that's fine, Dick was fine. It wasn't Bruce's fault he didn't know how to be a proper dad, despite Alfred's parenting books and videos. And he did try, he was always there. But it just really hits a sore spot everytime he sees Bruce hold a punch before he knocks Tim out cold or when he's behind the wheel with Steph telling her what not to do. Or even when he's at school with Damian and Duke making Marjory and her cupcakes look ridiculous compared to him and his coconut crumble cakes.

It also irritates Dick beyond senseless whenever the topic of sparring with Bruce is mentioned. ("We can all beat the old man Goldie, he's ancient." Jason shrugs off and Dick wanted to scream.) The only one who even tries to sympathize with him was Cass. More than likely because she'd seen him fight as Batman The Dark Knight before seeing him fight as Bruce The Father of Six-Almost-Eight.

And it just really stings because he can't relate to being raised by Bruce the way the others can't. Bruce changed for them, not him. And maybe that kind of hurts. But maybe he's overreacting.

What he doesn't realize is he's the reason why Bruce changed. Bruce saw the hurt and anger in Dick's eyes when he fired him from Robin (Think Shifu denying Tai Lung the Dragon Warrior scroll). He knew the second he saw the betrayal in Dick's eyes after seeing Jason as Robin, that he'd have to change. (The same way Shifu should've changed for Tigress but I digress, not that fandom).

Bruce pulls his punches because he hated seeing Dick limp away from their sparring matches—despite the fire and promise of a rematch in his eyes. He teaches them how to drive regular cars before the Batmobile because the one time Dick crashed (while trying to avoid some of Poison Ivy's vines) his heart rate skyrocketed so high Clark had called him up demanding to know if he was okay. He shows up for Duke and Damian and Cass and Tim because Dick's smile whenever he saw Bruce in the parent's lounge never failed to make him melt.

Bruce stands firm on the fact that while he may have made a hero out of Dick, Dick Grayson made a father out of Bruce Wayne.

#dc comics #batfam #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #dc robin #Marisol was Dick's social worker #Yeah Bruce had to spend a half an hour reassuring Clark that he was fine and Robin just scared him a little #(half to death #he saw the light)#I stand firm on the headcannon that Bruce's contingency plan for himseld has and always will be Dick #The rest of the batfam don't know why since Dick's the only one who takes fhe no kill rule harder than the old man himself #but whatever #Bruce and Dick angst is my favourite flavour #I hate it cuz I love it

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wutheringmights · 7 months ago

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i figured out what the problem is and unfortunately it is significant :((((

wow i have not had writer's block this bad in ages

#hello i will be using this space to rubber ducky my way out of this #basically i was able to suss out that there was something missing to the chapter and i couldn't figure out what #that is until i was running today and it hit me like a fucking brick: the chain have nothing to do #not like in a doing something around the house sense but... like... plot wise they're kinda just there #like I have this whole plan for how to solve the war stuff and warriors and spirit and time's whole deal but everyone else is kinda...#just there. I have scenes planned to wrap up some of their subplots but there really isn't a sense that they need to actually be here for #the resolution of the story. and i can't just send them out of here so i gotta make them significant again #and they should be significant because it's the mother fucking chain. they're kinda the reason people read this stupid story #so the big question is HOW are they going to be a necessary component for the rest of the story #like the easy solution would be to just have them go rogue and do some shit #but they aren't at the point where they could do that. i also don't want to give them something that they can do independent of warriors #cause then they would have to be doing things off screen which doesn't actually solve the problem #i KNOW there is a reason why they have to be here-- hi an idea just hit me that is a little insane but it might actually work #i just need to simmer on it for a hot minute #ok i sat with the idea for a few minutes and i like it.#it's a little evil BUT it's taking control away from wars and i kinda want him to have control over this #but then if characters don't act as independent agents then wars machinations won't be significant #I will ponder this more #and this has been rubber duckying in the tags #me rambling

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 1 month ago

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I don't know anything about Batman comics but I am very curious, who is this Jean Paul Valley fellow?

(I could google it but I feel like your answer is going to be a lot more enlightening)

okay so imagine you're a grad student just trying to get your degree in computer science. your mom is dead, you've never been close to your dad. you've made the best of it. one night your dad shows up on your doorstep in weird armor, terribly injured, and he dies in your arms telling you that you have to take up his mantle now. what the fuck does that mean? what mantle? oh, okay, turns out he was a warrior for a secret religious order. okay, it turns out all the men in your family have been for generations. alrighty, this is accomplished via childhood programming that creates a secondary warrior personality that lives in your head and comes out when you need to hurt people. maybe even kill them. you don't really want to do that but it also seems like you don't have a choice. sometimes you just kill people with a sword now, I guess. but Batman's here, Batman is going to help. he promised. he takes you under his wing, says he'll teach you how to manage this. you can't stop fighting but you can fight for good, maybe. Batman will show you how. except things are going wrong in the city, and Batman is running himself ragged trying to fix it. he's busy, too busy for you. Robin is trying to help you as best he can, but Robin's just a boy. and things are getting worse, Batman is fading. but you're also getting worse, there are voices in your head. and then Batman nearly dies. he certainly won't be able to walk again, not any time soon. so you're Batman now, I guess. you have barely even know how to be yourself anymore and now you also have to be Batman, and the man who was Batman has disappeared. out of the country to solve another mystery, left the city to you. you don't know what to do. you don't know what to do and people are dying and this city is hell on earth and why? why did he let it get this bad? what the fuck was the old Batman doing? you have to be a better Batman. you have to do whatever it takes to fix this place. maybe the old Batman wasn't hitting hard enough. maybe his enemies should have been more scared of him. maybe he shouldn't have let them get away in the first place. you're so alone. Robin is gone. Batman is gone. the only advice is coming from the voices in your head. you help people, sometimes, but you also feel increasingly disconnected from them. you're not really yourself anymore, are you? you're the voices in your head, your programming. you're Batman. you barely sleep and when you do it's on the floor of a cave, in your armor. and you keep this up until the old Batman comes back. he's walking again; it's a long story. and he wants his name back. he brought the other sidekicks and all three of them hate you, and when they come for you they don't stop until you're stripped of the armor, the mantle, and the name. they kick you out of the cave. you spend months living on the streets of this awful city you couldn't fix, hallucinating and trying to figure out who you are. they leave you like this until Batman comes to find you. you still work for him. he has a job for you. he doesn't like you, isn't even sure he trusts you, but he has a job that needs doing and you're a warm body. you're grateful. what else do you have?

that's Jean Paul Valley.

#jean paul valley

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kurosstuff · 9 months ago

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Lute x fallen angel! Reader: Fallen

Short fic- tell me what you think! Hope you all enjoy it-!

Summary" lute SHOULD hate you. But. How can she?

HEAVY SPOILERS MENTIONED LIKE AKL OVER(in this like one?) IDK PLEASE. ALL HAZBIN FICS I WRITE ARENT SPOILER FREE UNLESS I STATE THAT IT IS. YOUVE BEEN WARNED

Warning(s): blood/fights, love at first sight, maybe ooc lute? Idk yoy tell me I never wrote her, heartbreak, also from my knowledge? Wing movements(from birds please correct me on the info if I do it wrong I do not own birds) in denial, Adam and his vulgur language

Ngl I love lute-

Lute a cruel sadistic woman. Odd place for a woman in heaven. But given her status as the leader of the executioners. The one who leads the battles against those vile sinners. Who trains the angels picked to fight herself. The woman second in command to Adam himself.

It's a fitting role.

Never in a million years(and she HAS been around for that long. Or so she lost track of such a useless thing) would she? A ruthless exterminator encounter this thing other fully pure angels speak of.

Love

Why would she? Lute is a fighter. A warrior. The one who Adam HIMSELF entrusts his life too. Why would she fall for anyone? She doesn't even know if she CAN feel such a thing.

But as always- Life(or afterlife?) Is full of surprises. She was well aware of a new angel coming in. Recently passed in some horrific accident she doesn't care for the details just knows- need to pick them apart see if their ruthless enough to fight. But the second she went into the room her eyes widden- an odd feeling in her chest as If her heart- her cold heart was heating up.

"Hello~ are you uh Lute?" You asked shyly- which given the situation even the most outgoing would be just as shy. She blinked, glad for the mask to hide the flushed expression - the confusion on it.

Clearing her throat, she nods slowly, ensuring you saw "I am. Welcome to Heaven, " she greeted uncharacteristically polite- gentle. If you were to be mistaken, she ignored the odd look Adam gave her, looking at the name tag, even your name is pretty- she blinked.

What?

She did NOT just think that. She did NOT Find you pretty. Gorgeous. She does NOT notice how your eyes sparkle how friendly your smile is as you both talked. She most certainly doesn't notice how your wings are the single most gorgeous pair she's ever seen. How white it is- signaling how pure you are. How the gold etched into it- putting to shame her grey and black wings- smiling soft behind her mask. How how she wishes to touch the- she stops she will NOT think that

It became as clear as day to her and anyone else. Lute? Is inlove. And not just anyone. The new angel- the kind soul who? Adam states follows her around like a lost puppy or in Adam's kind words "Hey look. It's lutes bitch!" Oh how she wishes to punch him everytime- hit that smug look off. But she won't. Not yet.

A common tradition in heaven- like the birds in the human realm(maybe a odd similarity she presumed. She doesn't care for the human realm after all) finding a mate, a lover with the most gorgeous wings. It was no surprise you gained such attention

Much to her displeasure.

Grumbling watching as how you yet again were surrounded by angels around you- and ad always rejecting them before that smile she oh so adored. Yet would never state aloud was sent her way- making her scowl darkly(but on the inside? She was warm) quickly making your way to her she noticed how you fidgeted. How red you were "out with it. What is it?" She grumbled out no matter how warm and soft she was on the inside? Her words on the outside could never match. No matter how she wished it

White cleared her vision making her back up scrunching her nose before finally realizing what it was- a feather. Not just any old feather. Your feather "i.. i want you to have it.. I know the meaning bur when I was preening my wings u couldn't help it.. I want you to have my feather" they whispered watching as she gently took the feather.

Silently accepting them courting her with a soft smile. Maybe she can make it a necklace?

As great as it was up there. There were rules. Easy to forget. Easy to break. But rules nonetheless. Once Adam instructed her to strip a betrayers wings, Lute sighed. Grumbling loudly going to the room. Ignoring the odd almost somber pitiful look Adam gave her. Hiding the feather in her shirt tucked safe near her heart, she hummed, stepping inside fixing her helmet before freezing

"No-"

Her heart dropped paling more then she was already at the bloodied sight

"NO WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!"

She roared storming to your bloodied frame she couldn't help but break her never-ending composure for the first time, kneeling to your side "do you HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA WHAT THIS MEANS?" She snarled ripping her mask off showing her teary face. Knowing her counter was now a sinner. Her angel was a traitor. A million emotions went through her head glaring down at you with every emotion but the one she should feel.

It wasn't hate.

She ignored her feelings, swallowing it down she ignored the reasoning of what you did. Of what you SAID. putting her mask on, she steeled herself. She was an executioner. A peacemaker. She takes care of the issue. So she pushed you down with her foot grabbing your once gorgeous wings now bloodied gold- in her one hand grabbing her spear she sliced. Ignoring how she was covered in your blood. The deafening screams of pain. Of agony. How you begged for her. She took a sigh taking her mask off giving you the chance to se her one last time. Without the mask. How she stared cold at you.

Before the ground opened up, "lute. Before I go- please I lo-" she cut you off, kicking you in. Closing her eyes as the ground closed. For the first time ever. She fell to her knees, holding the now broken wings sobbing out for a sinner. How was she not a sinner to for showing the regret. Showing the selfishness in this?

It wasn't long before she saw you again. Traveling down with Adam to meet with Charlie and her girlfriend- to Lute it was a vile relationship. Not because of the sex- no- because of the liar Vaggie is. How that bitch betrayed her kind and then fell for the ruler of hells daughter. She could almost laugh.

Blinking, ignoring the yelling match of Adam and Charlie. Looking out the window, she froze mouth wide open- even though the demons back was turned. No wings but a tail and horns. She knew that laugh. She knew that smell. No matter how different you looked. Eyes soft watching you turn. Even as a demon. You truly are a beautiful creature. She softened her gaze behind her mask before looking away in disgust. Not with you.

But herself.

Lute a angel? Finds a demon attractive. Sure it's you but. Your a demon. A angel and demon together is vile. Disgusting in all sense of the worse.

But even now. She can't help but still long for you. Long for the almost relationship. Frowning, she looked back at Adam, who watched her with a frown. She knew they'd have a talk. Sighing, she followed after him with a deep sigh

She truly wished this outcome was different. How she longs to see you once more. Touching the feather on her chest she sighs

The only way she would be with you. Is if she was fallen as well. What a cruel irony.

#lute x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin lute

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absolutehomosexuals · 6 months ago

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Whenever people claim "[origin characters] show attraction to all genders", they often point to Astarion's party banter.

Which leaves us pretty confused because, if anything, it shows he has no clue what he's doing with women.

He's known to be this skilled seducer – the fantasy equivalent of a prostitute and, canonically, his pimp's favourite – yet his advances towards female companions come off as clumsy.

We've always chalked it up to him being a snarky little shit, with a touch of stereotypical gay man attitude¹, but the implications of it being genuine are terrifying.

As far as we know, Astarion gathered prey for at least two centuries, and he only ever talks about his male victims: Sebastian and the so-called darling boy were his only sincere relationships.

If you romance him, he justifies his initial manipulation by saying he only ever seduces people he's genuinely attracted to.

Couple that with the fact we never hear about any women, can it really be a coincidence on his writer’s part?

All we’re saying is, he probably didn't pick up his victims by calling them "a pretty flower", which unironically sounds like someone's first attempt at flirting in a lifetime.

We're even more appalled when people claim he flirted with Lae'zel (who he briefly teased and later implied he wasn't actually interested in, when she asked him why he hasn't tried to "bed" her yet) or Karlach (he seems to sympathize with her quite a bit due to their shared slavery trauma, offering to show her the Upper City when she implies she's never been – didn't come off as sexual at all, honestly).

If anything, his comments towards Wyll sound way more sexually-charged, going as far as to say he was the man Astarion dreamed to marry when he was younger.

And we know Wyll is the furthest thing from his current type, given his approval options.

A history of successfully, and famously, hitting on men coupled with overly-friendly, borderline exuberant interactions with women... wonder what subculture that reminds us of!

Hint: it's gay male subculture.

We also tend to forget Astarion's perception of his own sexuality is extremely screwed, because centuries of repeated sexual abuse will do that to you.

He's canonically riding that post-escape wave of mania and engaging in sexually risky behaviour (e.g the foursome with the drow twins at Sharess' Caress) + putting on an "open minded, experienced lover" façade (e.g justifying the MC upon being cheated on with Mizora and allowing them to sleep with Halsin to make up for the lack of sex in their relationship).

To put it gracefully: he fucks his way in and out of situations, exchanging sex with favours/protection is second nature to him at this point.

He's forcefully trying to reclaim his sexuality, biting off more than he can chew and re-traumatizing himself in the attempt: what's a little flirting with women to make sure his new allies are on his good side, after all? He surely can't be violated more than he already has been.

What's the damage in agreeing to sleep with a heart-broken Lae'zel at the tiefling party, at this point? It's the perfect manipulation, laid out for him on a silver plate. Also, we know from his confession scene that Astarion's first sexual proposal to Tav was indeed a form of manipulation: he admits that the initial reason why he pursued the player was to seek the protection of someone stronger and to make sure that the party won't kick him out. So, in the instance of Tav refusing him (the only option that triggers the scene between him and Lae'zel), it's only logical that he'd run in the arms of the next best thing, which in this case is Lae'zel, a great warrior that's eager to find a partner for the night.

And when she claims he performed flawlessly? That's the same thing the narrator tells you during the Sharess' Caress scene, only to reveal he's dissociated into oblivion.

Of course Larian didn't want to restrict players' options by locking certain romances, but we’re sorry to announce… he's still not beating the allegations.

¹ Being visibly gay = not being perceived as a threat by women, thus taking liberties such as sarcastic "flirting" towards female acquaintances.

Karlach refers to him as "fancy-boy" if she's in your party while recruiting him, so he is perceived that way in canon.

We can also see Gale being uncomfortable around him at first, especially when Astarion tries to strike up a conversation through party banter, for seemingly no reason – which seems like a pretty clear hint to us.

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skyeslittlecorner · 8 months ago

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Omg loveeee your works and the smol kings 😍 Can I have some more plssssss 🥺 Like MC teasing them for being so little (poke and bite those cheeks... 👉👈), then carrying them in their hands for cuddles or some kissie and huggie 🥹🥹🥹 Or any other fluff stuff too!!!!!

Ahhh they're just too precious 🥺 Nobles move aside, it's time to take care of these rascals personally. Little, lovable rascals. The more I see them like this, the more I hope that PB will take the opportunity and turn them into kids one day. Even for a moment. Let me hold and cuddle baby Satan pleeeaseee 🙏🙏

PS. I swear it supposed to be fluff BUT Levi said noooo who need fluff when we can have ✨trauma✨. He doesn't cooperate even in fanfics.

Satan

Remember how Sitri was worried about whether it was good idea to show Satan to people of Gehenna? You found out how wrong he was as soon as the other kids appeared on the horizon. Satan's gaze was glued to them. Silenced by the Paimon’s bubble gum, tearing the teddy bears brought by Leraye, didn't even pay attention to the nobles, he just grabbed your hand and pointed towards the group of kids with sticks.

"Over there! Let’s go!"

You were alone with him for a while, but it wouldn't hurt if you two went out to play, right? He didn't need the nobles' presence. But you? You were supposed to sit with him and the kids. When Satan took a stick they were pretending is a gun, you expected to get one too. Instead, he stood in front of you and stated seriously:

“You're my queen, you don't fight! I'm fighting for you.”

He looked so cute that you burst out laughing and pinched his fluffy cheek. He groaned and pushed your hand away.

"No! You can't! You don't do that to warriors!”

“Then protect me bravely, my king.”

You moved away to a safe distance so as not to accidentally get hit by a piece of bark or a bullet of the mud. Two women who stood a little further away, apparently the mothers of some kids from group, invited you to join them.

“I didn't know you had children, he looks so sweet…”

“He's really strong! Just like his majesty Satan. Incredible”

You watched tenderly as the little ones rolled in the dust and puddles. Kids. You had to explain everything to the women, but maybe not yet. A family with him… The very idea melted you inside. More and more often you wondered if you really wanted to come back to Earth.

Mammon

You were gone for fifteen minutes at most. It took you a moment of wandering around the gallery to find the bathroom, and then an even longer moment not to get lost in the bathroom itself (why was a sauna there?). As you returned to the alley where you left the nobles with the little king, you heard howling. You had a bad feeling. They were confirmed when you turned between the shelves and a scene straight from Dante's Inferno appeared before your eyes.

Bimet was crouching and waving toy cars, Eligos was swinging a gold-plated candy bar, and Mammon was sitting on the floor and crying. Valefor was the only one who looked conscious, with the phone to his ear.

“There you are,” he smiled with relief as you came closer in your stupor. “I tried to call you. His Majesty… You see what happened as soon as you left us.”

Bimet narrowed his eyes and huffed.

“Come here and fix it.”

You didn't even feel like making fun of them because this sobbing was tearing your heart apart. Mammon was really tiny as a child. You knelt down and gathered him in your arms, his slim body clinging to you with all his frail strength. He calmed down, but only a little.

“Here, here. Everything's fine. What happened?"

“I found… something… for you.” His voice was interrupted by hiccups. "But you were not there…"

You kissed the top of his head, between the curled horns. His head sometimes tilted to the left, where the heavier horn was.

“Shhh, I won't leave you anymore.”

“You promise?”

You nodded, and the kid smiled through his tears. He sniffed and pressed a candy bracelet into your hand. When he grabbed your hand, you felt that he still had some of his adult strength in him. From now on, you were forbidden to leave his side.

Beelzebub

You spent the entire day running back and forth around Avisos after the little king who refused to sit still. You thought your legs were going to fall off. When you were sitting on the couch in the office and the little boy was falling asleep on your lap, you realized that you simply went about it wrong. It was a better idea to take him to the feast immediately. It's true that he ate three pubs, but this bill was nothing compared to his usual conquests. He lay curled up, his head in your lap, holding your hand.

“My tummy hurts.”

Bael, although he took pity enough not to rush him to work, still preferred to have you both with him, in the office.

“So you didn't have to eat that much?”

“I am the king of gluttony.”

“You're a little worm, Beel. This is how you end up mixing newt eyes with Eastern European moonshine. Next time you'll think about what you're cooking."

He was answered by a childish grumble, as Beel squeezed your hand tighter.

“Don't listen to Bael, he's stupid. It tasted so nice…”

"I heard it."

"He worries about you." You stroked the blond hair that you had already braided.

Beel wanted to talk to you again, take you somewhere, but you saw that his eyes were closing completely. You laid down on the couch and let him snuggle against your chest.

Bael just glanced at you, but soon you were both asleep. He sighed and covered you with the blanket, and now that Beelzebub was asleep, he could stroke his hair a little too. Stupid... but he's still his king. And a friend, after all.

Leviathan

Young Levi was even quieter than usual, and much, much more fearful. He didn't want to have anything to do with anyone. He hid in corners and nooks, and the fact that he was tiny didn't help. You knew that the invisible Foras was watching over him, but that didn't calm you down. A gift for this child came to your mind, when you saw that all the pens were missing from the desk.

You found Levi hidden behind his coffin, with a stack of notes scattered around. All the drawings were black, gloomy and hastily sketched.

“Leviathan?”

He started like a frightened deer ready to run away.

“Don't go, please… it's me. It's just me. I have something for you."

He didn't back down, but he didn't invite you in either. Still, you sat down across from him and placed a new pack of colored pencils next to drawings. He looked at them, his small lips quivering as if he were holding back tears.

“I don't want them.”

"Why?"

“It wasn't… it wasn't colorful there.”

His drawings made it all too clear to you what he was thinking. You saw the castle of Hades and the spindly Levi himself. You could tell by the horns. But other children, with broken horns, with bandages...

“They want you to be happy.” You reached out and wiped away the tears that ran down his pale cheeks. Little fists rubbed eyes in anger. Tears came to your own eyes as you looked at his silent pain.

Leviathan himself must have felt terrified, because he stood up and staggered closer. Trembling fingers grabbed your sleeve. A piercing sob hit you straight in the heart. All you could do was cradle him in your arms.

You took a new piece of paper, the brightest color you could find, and started to draw. You gently stroked the shaking shoulders and only picked up the paper when you finished.

"Look here."

Your artistic skills left much to be desired, especially that you didn’t draw with your leading hand, because thi one was holding a crying child. The picture of Levi with his nobles and, above all, you, was bursting with colors. Foras must have had a lot of fun seeing this, but you had to swallow your pride.

“It's nasty.” Levi commented through tears. “And Glasyal looks like he has a hump. That's not how it should look."

But you managed to distract him. Now, until he fell asleep in your arms, little Leviathan never left your side.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb beelzebub #whb mammon #whb leviathan #skye's little talk

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