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circe69 · 1 year

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𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐦 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

narrative: you get kidnapped by graves, and ghost rescues you (in a very aggressive/sweet manner) part 1 warnings: mentions of kidnapping, injuries, blood, gunshots/guns tags: ghost bringing you coffee, being in tight spaces with him, sweet flirting/shameless flirting, talk of late-night meetings.

a/n: I have this idea of this version of Ghost being younger, maybe early 20's, having just entered the military. I like to think that before he became a "super killer", all he wanted to do was protect and save. And when you came along, I think he saw it as an opportunity to finally save someone who really needed him. In the comics, Ghost lost everything and everyone he ever had, and I like to think he'd find it worth his while to try and save someone again. Just one last time.

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You woke up that morning, drenched in sweat and tears soaking your striped pillow. It wasn't the best circumstances, waking up from a nightmare in a room you don't recognize. The weather wasn't helping either, dark storm clouds only a few hundred feet above you and rain causing a visible downpour outside your window.

You dreamt that Graves hadn't let you go, as if your brain was giving you the second option of "what if Ghost hadn't rescued you?" and gave it to you in full, gory detail. Every ounce of you felt disgusting, dirty.

Reaching out to touch your face, you pulled it back and smiled slightly at the lack of blood. Either it had dried up, or the tears washed it for you, flooding away all the revolting liquid that you wished wasn't there at all.

Turning the knob to enter your small room again, you opened the door and your jaw dropped at the sight before you.

Ghost.

Was sitting on your bed.

"What are you doing in here?" You screeched, crossing your arms over your shoulders in attempt to hide your bare chest.

He jumped up from where he sat on your bed, "I was waiting for you." His tone was quiet, not as stressed as you were. You were slightly thankful for it, the balance between the two of you was perfect, even if you'd never admit it to anyone else.

"Yeah well, I was in the shower."

His mouth stretched into a smile, showing his whitened teeth against his dark pink lips. "I know."

You felt your cheeks flush, and even though the statement should've caused you to tense more, you felt your shoulders relax and slowly drop from the cross they were in, your arms now resting on either side of you.

"Oh."

He sat back down on the bed, reading your face that was now comfortable and not as scrunched up as it was seconds before. One leg crossed over the other knee, and his hands folded together on his lap, fiddling with the small metal bracelet underneath his gloved wrist.

"How are you feeling? Did you sleep okay? Sometimes the AC-"

You interrupted his rambling, "I slept fine. Great actually." Even if it was a lie, in some way, you really did sleep better than you had in a while, feeling safe being underneath the same roof as Ghost. As crazy as it sounded, and maybe if you didn't even realize it yet, he was something you'd longed for, and had for quite a while. Just someone to stand behind, someone to watch first instead of doing everything yourself.

"You look great," he paused to clear his throat, "Better, I mean, then last night."

You smiled at his awkwardness. You could tell small talk wasn't his forte, but it made it better. More genuine, you thought.

"Thanks."

It wasn't until now that you realized you were still standing, dripping wet in a towel, with Ghost staring at you, and you staring back. It wasn't seductive, nothing in his dark brown eyes alluded to anything else except for "I'm glad you're okay."

"Well, I need to," you waved a hand at your towel-clad body, signaling you needed to get dressed. Ghost nodded, clearing his throat once more to clear the silence. "Right, well, your coffee is on the table in the break room. I'll be waiting in there for you when you're done." He made a fist and held it out to you. A fist bump?

You chuckled at his poor demonstration of the gesture, but secretly loved it. He might've been raised by wolves, you were sort of convinced he was, but the fact that he was trying was enough for you to want to do anything for him.

You bumped his fist back, trying to make yourself seem more enthusiastic than you really were, in some way you thought the act in and of itself was Ghost trying to do the same thing. It made things less scary than they were, and even though you were stuck in a nightmare last night, you wouldn't have wanted to be woken up to anything, or anybody, else.

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After getting dressed in clean, fresh clothes, that somehow smelled like Ghost, you made your way to the break room to grab your morning drink and hopefully get some answers about what you were even doing here.

To your surprise, everyone in the Task Force seemed extremely kind, so kind, in fact, that you thought something must be on your teeth or dirt on your clothes, and they're trying to make you feel better out of pity. But maybe that's just how they all are. Killers by night but sweethearts in the day.

You walked into the break room, the door squeaking upon entrance, and met face to chest with an extremely tall man. Looking up, you felt like you almost broke your neck just trying to make eye contact.

"Y/N, that's König, our best sniper," you heard Ghost get up from his seat and make his way over to you and the hooded beast standing in front of you.

"He's a bit shy, but he means good." Ghost said while patting König on his back, making him jump slightly. "Hello," you tried to say, making as small talk as possible. Not that you were scared, per say, but you wouldn't ever want to get on his bad side.

As König made his way past you and out of the break room, Ghost handed you a cup of hot coffee. "How did it stay hot this whole time?" You spoke, taking a long sip and closing your eyes at the warmth.

"Heated it up over the stove," he stopped to drink his, "It's better that way."

You pursed your lips together, humming in curiosity. "Hey, um, I had a few questions for you, or maybe someone else."

Ghost's eyebrows shot up through his mask, and he turned to lead you to a small, round table. "Ask away."

Clearing your throat, you were slightly nervous. This wasn't a parent-teacher conference, or a job interview. You were about to ask questions regarding the military, regarding your father. It was a big deal.

"Well, I remember you mentioning that Price, your captain, told you that my father put him up to the job of finding me," you began, rubbing a finger on the cold table.

"Yes, that's correct." Ghost said assertively. He was serious when it came to business matters, or maybe he was just serious when it came to you.

You scooted in, nervously placing your hands underneath your thighs. "Well, the strange thing is, I haven't spoken to my father in ye-"

All the sudden, the lights flicked off, and there were multiple gunshots from outside the break room.

"Y/N, get down." His voice was deep, quiet so that only you could hear it. You dove underneath the table, wrapping one of your hands around the leg. Ghosts' gun cocked as he walked up to the door stealthily. He opened it on his brain's command, perfect timing, always. Watching him walk out was like watching someone walk into a burning house. There was fire everywhere, bullets flying across the width of the door, passing him by just an inch every time.

"Ghost!" You screamed, making him turn around immediately. He walked in, shut the door, and threw the table off of you, picking you up into his arms. Just like he carried you to your room the night before, he ran you into the nearest closet and pressed you against the wall. You felt brooms and brushes poking your back, and they dug deeper as Ghost entered the small closet, closing the door behind him and caging himself around you, hands on both sides of your head.

He tore off his mask and slid it on your face, as a way to conceal you better. The smell of him was all you could think about, it surrounded every inch of you. "Please stay quiet." He whispered right next to your ear, making you involuntarily shiver. You nodded, and the only reason you could do that instead of responding with words was because he was so close, he could feel you nodding against his body.

He stayed like that, hovering only a few centimeters above you, chest flat against yours, until the gunshots stopped. What confused you the most was that he stayed with you, he didn't go out to kill all of the people who were trying to kill him. He was protecting you, back faced to the door, ready to give up his life for you.

You looked up into his eyes, and waited until he looked down into yours. They were careful, maybe scared, trying to find something to calm him down. Searching for something in yours to tell him that you're still here, and you're okay.

"I think it's safe to go out, Ghost." You whispered, scared to speak any louder. Not because of safety reasons, but because your personal bodyguard looked like anything above a whisper would make his head explode.

He removed his hands from the wall behind you, but gently put them back after a second and looked you in the eyes. "About your father, I know what you were about to say. And I know, you haven't seen him in years and it's impossible that he would even know where you are, s how-"

"Wait, so you knew about all of this?" You interrupted, slightly pushing Ghost away with a hand on his chest.

"Yes- well, it was a theory."

You weren't sure how to feel. If he had known, why wasn't he fixing it? Was he talking to people? Making sure you were safe?

"Well? Did you find anything out? Is it really just a theory or do you have information?" You crossed your arms across your chest, and popped a hip out, accidently landing a foot directly on top of his.

He smiled, "Easy, tiger," he kicked your foot off of his playfully and placed a boot on your sneaker. "I'm working on it."

"What does 'working on it' mean?" You pursed your lips together and raised your eyebrows, waiting for his response.

His hands left he wall for good, and he started to walk out when you realized the entire troop was out in the break room, congregating around a table and pointing at a digital map. You pulled Ghost back inside by his wrist, "What are you doing! They're gonna think we were up to something!"

He picked you up again while you were still mid-protest and kicked open the closet door, carrying you bridal-style into the break room.

"Well, well, well. Congratulations to the happy couple!" A Scottish man spoke, and you recognized him as the reckless driver from the night before. Soap, was it?

"Thank you, thank you, we're going to Hawaii for our honeymoon actually," Ghost said as he didn't even stop to talk to the rest of his team, and you slapped his chest for his comment. A few of the guys laughed, some just stared and smiled. As Ghost carried you out of the room, he set you down gently a few feet outside of the door into the main hallway of the base.

"Meet me in my room later tonight, say around, 10?"

You gasped, putting a hand over his mouth and looking around to make sure no one heard him. "Are you insane? Why in the world would I do that?" Your words indicated that you were fed up with everything about this man, but the smile on your face said otherwise. You were excited, exhilarated at the thought of sneaking out. You felt like a teenager again, like a little kid "escaping" from your mother when you see an old friend from across the grocery store.

"You want information, don't ya?" He said slyly. His British accent was always strong, but the Manchester in him really came out when he was shamelessly flirting with you.

You clicked your tongue a few times, "That's true, I suppose."

"Well, I suppose I'll be seeing you at 10 PM tonight." Ghost started to walk away, towards a meeting or a training session, you were sure.

"Isn't that awfully late?" You yelled to his back, taking a few small steps after him.

"You'd be there 'till around that time anyway, wouldn't ya?" He said from over his shoulder, and your cheeks flushed with hot fire. Your mouth opened, but you found no response to the statement that you knew was absolutely true.

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taglist! - @hauntingtherosebush @bunkvo @lialacleaf @lainphotography @ryunniez @mildlyhopeless

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #modern warfare #simon riley x y/n #ghost x y/n #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #circe69scribbles

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kinardbegins · 8 days

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HIIII 😁

I'm leaving a lil idea in here: how about one or both of them being covered in soot (like tommy was) and them having a lil intimate moment helping the other or eachother clean up?

HI HI HI THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST <333

this one got soooo away from me lol it was supposed to be like 200ish words but omg yeah it got a lil deep

wc: 1.2k

no warnings but tommy's pretty sad in this (and buck's there for him <3)

also on ao3!

sense of belonging

Tommy can’t help it, he has to see Buck. He feels lost, as if nothing is ever going to be okay again, and he needs someone he knows he can count on. Someone he can trust. Which is how he finds himself outside the 118, grimacing at his old firehouse. He can’t deny that he misses it, but he also can’t deny that he never did belong there.

Eddie spots him from inside and makes his way over with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Hey, man! What are you doing here?”

Tommy tries to smile but it falls short. “Just finished work. Needed to see if… if he’s okay.”

There’s a shift, then, and Eddie just knows. Knows that something must have happened. Something must have set him off. “Yeah. Yeah, man, he said something about getting a shower just a few minutes ago. Got a bit dirty on the last call, which… seems like you did too.”

Tommy shrugs. He knows he looks like hell. Dirt sticks to his eyebrows and dried blood lines the straight-edge of his jawline and god knows what else is there. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror long enough to clear it off. Not after the shift he had. Not after the civilian he lost.

Moving swiftly to the shower room, giving forced smiles to anyone who looks his way, he finds Buck stepping out the shower with a towel around his waist. If it were any other day, Tommy wouldn’t be able to look away from the water clinging to his toned muscles and the short hairs trailing below the towel. But now, in this moment, he can’t look away from his face, from the way his eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are slightly parted and his birthmark seems pinker than usual, almost crimson. And then he gets to watch how his face completely changes when he spots him. How he brightens immediately. As if just seeing him makes him the happiest man alive.

It hits him square in the chest. He’s not sure how someone like Buck can look at someone like him and have that type of reaction. He’s not used to it. Sometimes he still wonders if this is the universe playing some sort of sick and twisted game with him and that one day he’ll wake up to find this all gone. Ripped away. Just like everything and everyone else he’s ever known.

But seeing that Buck is okay–seeing him there and happy and alive–brings up all these emotions Tommy can’t quite figure out right now. There’s relief, that’s for sure, and there’s happiness, but there’s also a stronger feeling than the usual flutter in his stomach and the tightness in his chest and that should scare him but it doesn’t. Buck opens his mouth to talk but all he gets out is a hmmph as Tommy takes two large steps toward him and they collide in a tight embrace. He doesn’t care that Buck is soaking wet from the shower and drenching his clothes, he just needs to feel close.

Buck seems to understand though because he says nothing. Instead, he pulls Tommy in closer and gently scratches at the short hairs at the base of his neck. It calms him down enough to pull back and look at Buck properly, taking him in and memorising that look on his face. Just in case.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

Buck’s eyes soften. “Hey, yourself. Bad shift?”

“You have no idea.”

Buck cups his face and runs the pad of his thumb over his cheek. Tommy doesn’t remember a time he’s ever been touched so gently before. “I think I have some idea,” he says, sliding his hand down Tommy’s jaw and furrowing his eyebrows at the blood. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“You should get dressed first,” Tommy mutters. He’s suddenly struck with the feeling that he’s being a burden. That he’s invading Buck’s space. His time. “Incase you need to run out.”

Buck seems like he’s about to protest when he realises that Tommy’s right. “I’ll be back in a second, I swear,” he sighs before ducking out of the room and leaving Tommy alone. It’s not until this moment he realises just how tired he really is. All he wants to do is go home and crawl into bed but he feels stuck. Like he can’t move. Risking a glance at the mirror, he’s grateful to find that he can’t see himself through the steam. He’s not quite ready to face himself yet.

But before he can dwell on it, or think about how it felt to watch someone die right in front of him (not for the first time, but certainly not for the last time either, and that makes his stomach twist uncomfortably), Buck is running back into the room and taking Tommy’s face in his hands. He tilts his head to one side and then the other before tutting and reaching out to turn on the tap, keeping one hand on Tommy at all times. Once he’s satisfied with the temperature of the water, he runs a cloth underneath it and rings it out before slowly reaching up to dab it over Tommy’s jawline.

“Is this your blood?”

Tommy shrugs. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”

Buck pauses for a moment before moving to wipe at the dirt coating his eyebrow. “Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

Tommy shakes his head.

“Okay,” Buck says after a while, scrubbing away the last of the dirt. His touch is so gentle and so caring that Tommy fears he might cry. “Do you want to come eat with us? Bobby’s making his famous lasagne.” He pulls away the cloth and drops it in the sink, running some water over it for a moment before switching off the tap and putting all his attention back on Tommy. Both of his hands drop to Tommy’s shoulders and he smooths his palms across the broad expanse, offering a sweet smile. “You’ll love it.”

“I don’t know,” Tommy sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be, I promise. Bobby will love to have you; we all will.”

And that’s how Tommy finds himself sitting where he used to sit all those years ago, only this time he knows that he doesn’t have to hide who he is. So when Chimney brings up something Tommy did once on a call so long ago it feels like a past life, something shifts inside of him, and when Bobby claps him over the shoulder with a proud smile, that something becomes a little lighter. Hen smiles at him and Eddie bumps his arm against his and Ravi listens intently as he retells the story from his point of view. And when Buck laughs at a joke he makes, his head tilting back to let out the loveliest sound Tommy’s ever heard, and then he looks at him to see if he’s laughing too, Tommy can’t help the genuine smile that graces his face. And he realises he feels like he finally belongs. And that maybe, just maybe, things will be okay after all.

#YAY I FINALLY WROTE FOR THEM #im lowkey kinda proud of this #i feel like tommy is so confident on the surface and in general but he just doesn't feel like he belongs anywhere #this is as new for him than it is for buck #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #kinkley #tevan

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mitoad · 3 months

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hitherto ; simon 'ghost' riley x gn! reader

summary (more of a footnote but whatever) : simon 'ghost' riley with a civilian reader who loves animals heals me in some unspoken language <3

notes: mentions of past trauma (ghost), mentions of animal abuse (ghost), fluff and (maybe) hurt/comfort ?? not proofread; 639 words

He knew his footsteps would always leave a trail, no matter how lightly he treaded or how stealthy he was. He'd killed hundreds after all, all in the name of the world's safety- a legal killer, worthy of purging the unclean as classed. Not to mention the remnants of his past that always followed, violence and abuse and his family always legible in his surroundings like a ghost. He'd always wondered whether his stain had hurt the world more than healed it.

And then there was you, with your light treads and invisible presence and pretty smile. You were everything his hardships had prevented him from being- so much softer and warm and wholeheartedly loved. Always avoiding the bloodied fields of war and doing your best to slip through the world undetected. Simeon had always known that he never deserved anyone, let alone someone like you. And yet you still traced the markings on his calloused hands, talked to him with that bubbly voice of yours, held his face despite the black medical mask that would cover it. You held your world in your hands, and his world was right in front of him.

Your presence is a gentle hand to his marred and bleeding one.

But still, he can't help but glance twice at any snake he sees. His suvorexant holds him down through the nightmares instead of alleviating them. It almost feels to him like he's betraying you when he can feel his chest tighten when you scoop the stray cat up into your arms amidst the cascading rain, ignoring it's indignant hisses and the hair that now messied your formerly clean sweater. He can make the figure of his father in the darkest corners of the alleyway, mangled carrion bodies and blood in the garbage bags of the trash can.

" should put the lad back, doll. " he does his best to hide the grit in his tone.

You only reply with avid pouts of refusal. "it's pouring, si !! I'm not leaving some poor, defenceless animal in the rain !!"

His expression softens. He trusts you; he truly does. But the smell of dog blood is still cloyingly bitter in his nose, and it’s a scent that still stings at his brain. It's too late for him to react though- you’ve already dashed off back to your shared apartment while covering the feline with your now soaked sweater. Simon follows suit without protest.

He watches as you wrap the cat in the fluffiest towel you can find, careful as to not scare the cat any further. Your gentle rubs to it's fur could never compare what he had seen in his childhood- menageries of vicious snapping teeth and growls , the smell of blood and unkempt fur. You're rummaging through the cupboards and microwaving a can of tuna, nudging it towards the creature to try soothe it's fear. Simon feel his hands start to relax, his grimace fading beneath his mask. You're nothing like that shadow of a man, nothing like Ghost or the little boy before him. You were never going to make the same mistakes, never going to end up as the same monster. A little thing clicks in him, a small shift of his aorta. You were the one he would choose to stand by his side in the old and grey.

"sim ? you've been zoning, is there something wrong ?" you're scritching the cat's head, giggling at its soft purrs as it nuzzles its head closer to your fingers. A doe eyed look of concern as you grace over his features, checking for any sign of turmoil in your boyfriend.

"nothin' to worry about, love." he wraps his arm around your shoulder as you continue to play with the cat, the movement of your muscles as you play with the cat allowing him to take a new breath. "just thinking."

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holylulusworld · 4 months

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The past always catches up - Redemption

Summary: Wake, wake…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x former Handler!(fem) Reader; Past Winter Soldier x former Handler!(fem) Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of Hydra/Bucky’s past, implied/past abuse/sexual abuse on the Winter Soldier, blood, mentions of violence, (mentions of) knife play, pain kink (reader), toxic "relationship", implied smut/past non-con on the reader (no description), fingering, darkfic

Catch up here: The past always catches up

Please consider this is a darkfic. Both the reader and Bucky are not nice in this story.

It’s done. The last handler was found.

He places one hand against the tile wall as the hot water runs down his body. He drops his head and closes his eyes to forget about the things he did within the last few days.

He can still feel the blood on his hands and hear the screams echo in his ears. It feels like your scars are his now too.

It’s done. He got his revenge.

The water continues to cascade down his body as he ponders if his actions are justified. Until he faced you again, he believed that bringing all his tormentors down was his only purpose in life.

Now things have changed.

The fire that used to burn deep inside his chest was extinguished with your last scream.

He sighs and looks at the drain to watch the blood disappear. If only he could wash his past away so easily too.

He turns off the shower and steps outside. He shivers and struggles to grab the towel as his eyes land on a speck of blood on his hand.

The smell of your blood still stings in his nose, and he can’t help but feel giddy knowing he can go back to the room and touch you again…

You flinch at his touch. Not because it’s unwanted. You simply didn’t expect to wake after your soldier wrapped his metal hand around your throat.

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity until he stole your last breath. Or so you thought.

Darkness welcomed you, but fate kissed you back to life with pain. The cold steel ran over your skin, breaking it to let purple streams pour down your back.

He groaned and whispered your name while you screamed in pain and pleasure. You gasped and begged him for more, or to end your life.

The soldier knew about your kinks and your secret needs. Only he could fulfill them. That’s why you chose him and made him your loyal toy. He would break you little by little only to bring you indescribable pleasure at the same time.

“дорогая (darling),“ his voice brings you out of your dreamy haze. You blink your eyes open but don’t move. “Beautiful.” He purrs as his eyes look on your back. “Perfect.”

“Why?” You dare to whisper. Anyone else would be happy to be alive. Not you. Death finally came to you to collect, but the soldier refused to take your offered soul.

He dips his head to watch you lie on the ruined mattress. Your blood and juices soaked the cheap bedding. “Why what?”

“Why am I alive?” You weakly croak. “I wished for death.”

“Exactly,” he steps toward the mattress to look down at you. You’re shivering at the cold, but his heated gaze keeps you warm. “I want you alive because you wish for death. I won’t fulfill your wishes. You’re not my handler any longer.”

“I know,” you sigh dreamily. “I have missed your hands on me.” You chuckle darkly. “Do you remember the last time? You slammed me into the wall and took what you wanted. I didn’t know you broke out of the programming.”

“You wanted me to be your toy,” he crouches down to run his fingertips over the fresh wounds on your back. You hiss but wiggle on the mattress. “I wanted you to be my toy.”

“You forced my legs apart and made it hurt so good,” you slowly roll to your side to glance at the soldier you once knew so well. “You got weak.” You huff. “Last night you held back.”

“I tried to not kill you,” he leans over your body to press a kiss to the first letter he carved into your skin. “I will break you little by little again. You will be nothing but an empty shell.”

“I was an empty shell after you left me,” you grimace when his lips travel along your back. “There is nothing you can destroy. Hydra took everything I had to offer.”

“No,” he growls and stares at his name carved into your skin. “You are not broken or an empty shell. Not yet. It’s my fate to break you completely. Hydra can’t have this too!”

He seems to be angry at your admission. “I got defeated by my greed and moral flaws. There is nothing left you can steal.”

“This can’t be,” he grits his teeth. “No. You are…you are mine to destroy. I cannot destroy Hydra because they are all gone. But I can ruin you.”

“All gone,” you laugh as you struggle to sit up. “Sweet soldier,” you kneel on the mattress and reach out for him to touch his cheek. He allows you to touch him and kiss his lips. “Hydra is not dead. It has nine heads, and you only decapitated four.”

“No—” He shakes his head and pushes you away. “I killed them all.”

“You killed the handlers, and the foot soldiers,” you flutter your eyes close and run your hand over your exposed chest. “Maybe you took a few heads too. Five remain, sweet soldier, and not even you and your friend will bring them down. No one can.”

“How do you know?” He growls and wraps his hand around your throat. The soldier easily lifts you off of your feet. You gasp and claw at his hand as your toes scrape over the floor. “HOW?”

“I was their best minion,” you smile at him. “You were my masterpiece. Beautiful and so deadly. I bet it was a pleasure to your victims to get killed by you.”

“You’re crazy and sick,” he grunts. “I should’ve killed you.”

“I simply state the truth,” his eyes drop to your chest, and he hums as you whisper, “You’re a beautiful death, my soldier. I welcomed you with open arms, and always will. Even if you break me.”

“I’m going to break you, дорогая (darling),” he kisses you hard. “Bit by bit. Day after day. If not with my hands, but with my,” he grins now and drops his eyes to your crotch. “You know how good I can make it hurt.”

You squirm in his hold. “Yeah. If you hurt me good, I will tell you where you can find the remaining heads and their minions. You know, I was a smart little minion and know every dirty little secret they try to hide from you and the golden boy.”

“You want me to make it hurt?” He slams you into the wall, making you wince as your wounds open again. “How bad do you want me to hurt you?”

“So…so bad, soldier,” you guide his flesh hand down to your crotch. “What’s left of me is all yours. If you don’t kill me, make me feel alive again.”

“Only,” he leans closer to breathe in your face, “if you call me Bucky. The soldier is gone.”

“Is that the name you carved into my flesh?” You look him straight in the eyes when he slips three fingers inside of your cunt.

“You will see when I allow you to see my masterpiece…”

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #angst #darkfic #tw: blood #tw: pain kink

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pacifymebby · 1 year

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The Waves // Tommy Shelby

Requested by anon, As Tommy Shelbys secretary youd hoped to leave your history in the war behind you but one night when they bring a wounded John into the office, instinct takes over you and your secrets are revealed... Warnings: PTSD, panic attatcks, dissociation, depersonalisation.

🌿

You don't know what had possessed you to take up a job as a secretary for Shelby Company. Naivety perhaps? It seemed plain to everyone that you weren't cut out to be anywhere near the shelby business.

You were a mousy, unassuming girl. Quiet enough that for the most part you went unnoticed by the men for anything other than being a little pretty. You were a dilligent worker but those who watched closely - and some certainly watched closer than others - had noticed that secretarial work, admin work didn't appear to come naturally to you. You seemed restless when left with nothing to do for too long, your eyes darting around the busy room watching everyone else carefully.

Tommy could tell that when you entered a room you did the same as him - clocked everyone in it, analysed every situation and activity, scanned the whole room. That was something he'd learned to do during the war. He couldn't help wonder where you'd picked it up.

You couldn't say why you'd chosen secretarial work either, only that it was another step towards forgetting your past, a past which still haunted you from time to time.

Your past was the reason you scanned and analysed the scene when you entered a room or walked down a street. It was the reason you jumped from time to time when a door slammed or one of Tommys associates stormed in temper raging for reasons you couldnt comprehend.

Because you understood that Tommy Shelby had a reputation but, having moved to Birmingham from Newcastle to escape the memories which followed you everywhere, and therefore not being a birmingham native, you didn't know why he had a reputation. Didn't know that you were walking a thin line between secretarial work and one short sharp shock into reliving your worst nightmares. Hell on earth as anyone who had been there too could tell you.

You knew Tommy could have told you. That he'd have understood. But he was your boss and though he was always warm to you, though he treated you with nothing but kindness, it wasn't your place to talk frankly nor emotionally with him. And if you knew one thing about the men who'd fought in the war it was that theyd seen worse than you, lived through worse, felt the stab of memory harsher and deeper than you.

What right did you have to talk to the likes of Tommy Shelby about the war.

So you'd never even mentioned the war, not even during your interview. You'd lied about your past, despite knowing it could have put you in good stead to land the job. And since youd been hired people rarely had the time for you, the reserved quiet girl who sat at her desk all day, doing exactly as her job required her to.

You answered the phone, you made appointments, you smiled at those who spoke to you. You were polite and a you were a grafter and beyond that there was nothing more to ask of you or about you.

So the night they brought John into the office in a blood stained shirt, half concious and soaked with the familiar sheen of a bloods-running-cold sweat, everyone but you was shocked by what happened.

The doors clattered open startling you. You'd been tidying away your desk, closing up for the evening when they'd stormed through the room, Tommy, Arthur and Pol, the panic they shated buzzing between them changing the air. You bristled, the feeling familiar. For a second you were scared and then just like that a switch flipped in your brain and you were up.

You heard your chair fall and clatter to the floor but you didn't turn to check on it. Chairs aren't alive, chairs can't feel pain. Who gives a fuck about a broken bloody chair when theres a man shot with bullets bleeding out in front of you.

"Clear the table, Miss Gray get me hot water and towels..."

"You what?"

"I said i need towels and hot fucking water alright?"

You wouldn't realise your stepping out of line until much later, too swept up in the old routine. You'd gone into auto pilot the second youd seen him. The second youd heard those low agonised groans. Here was a man who needed a nurse and though youd desperately tried to escape that fact, a nurse is what you were.

"Mr Shelby i need something sharp, something to cut the bullet out with... How many times was he hit do you know? Never mind then I'll be thorough... I'm going to do my best for your brother Mr Shelby sir,"

Tommy noted the way you skipped over any throwaway pieces of reassurance. There were no "he's going to be alright"s from you and that was why he trusted you. Thats why when Polly came back with towels and water and went to complain about the lip on his newest secretary, he raised his hands to silence her and told her to watch you work.

And so she did.

She watched how you spoke calmly to Arthur, how you gave him firm instructions to busy him and keep him away from you and John so that you could work. She watched how artfully and quickly you were able to remove the bullets from Johns body. How your delicate fingers worked nimbly when it came to bathing the wounds and packing them.

"Youre lucky he won't be needing stitches Mr Shelby, i don't think we've got the materials for that..."

You were so matter of fact, so diligent and calm. Almost too calm.

By now Tommy knew, the pieces had fallen into place in his brain and he was looking at you with a surprised but impressed little smirk tugging at his lips. You'd really gone and surprised him and he was pleased about that.

"Do you have morphine... I can measure him a dose to ease him off to sleep but you shouldn't let him get too..."

"Used to it, believe me y/n i know that..." he remains quiet, eyes locked on you, studying the rise and fall of your chest, that distant look in your eyes. You'd reached the end of your routine. John was going to be alright now and peace and calm would be settling in that little back room.

Looking at you now Tommy was sure he knew what came next for you.

"thank you Nurse, he'll be alright now, you don't have to worry about our John, he's a strong lad,"

His words or one word in patticular shocked you then, it drew you out of your daydream like state and back into the sharp reality.

Youd just saved a mans life... Potentially. He lay bandaged up on Tommys desk, half concious and in terrible pain, but you'd saved him.

You looked down at your work, the clean bandages beginning to turn pinkish as they soaked up the last of the blood. You looked down at your hands and didn't quite recognise them. They felt strange to you then, but then so did your whole body. Like it wasn't yours. This strange almost numbness rippling through you until you felt hollow, until you felt like a ghost.

You choked up before you could make your exit and so you rushed a mumbled "excuse me" from your trembling lips darting out of the back room and then, out of the office into the cool rainwet street outside.

You couldnt let them see you cry, you couldnt fall apart in front of them, not when it was Tommys brother on the table, not when it was Pollys nephew who had been hurt. It wasnt your place to start crying and making a scene. It wasnt your families life which had been at risk. So who were you to be so upset? Who were you to be shaking and fighting back tears now?

You turned a corner and shrunk to the floor, curling up, head held tight between your knees as you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to fight them off. The memories which were as sharp as daylight now.

It was hopeless though, deep down you knew it was. Youd never managed to shut them out yet and tonight would be no different.

"No point fighting em miss y/l/n, reckon you know that just as well as any,"

Tommys calm voice seemed to come from far away, it sounded grey and washed out, like he was reaching out but couldnt quite get to you. Like he was behind a veil.

"Better just to let them out eh?"

You heard his footsteps on the stone, heard the scrunch of his coat as he slid down the wall beside you.

"Mr Shelby you should go to your brother!" you tried to return to your previous commanding tone, the tone of a woman in control but Tommy wasn't having any of that, and your efforts failed you anyway.

When he placed a hand on your back you felt a little warmth beneath his palm. Like the feeling coming back to you just enough to let you know that all this was going to pass.

"Now now y/n, you've done your part tonight, nows the time for you to let yourself be and get through these memories whatever way you choose... Do you smoke y/n?"

He knew you did. Tommy had been paying more attention to you than was necessary since you'd started. Not just because he thought you were a pretty little thing with some intriguing little habbits, but because hed had his suspisions about you ever since he'd interviewed you.

He was good at telling liars when thy were telling stories and thats what youd been doing to him. Hed been certain of that ever since he'd seen you hesitate when describing your career history. Thought it was interesting see how your eyes flitted left and up when you told him certain things. Part of why he'd given you the job was his determination to uncover the truth and now, it seemed, he had.

He rubbed your back trying to be careful with you. You seemed to young to him to have memories such as these.

"In a moment I'm going to take you back inside, im going to pour us both a glass of whiskey, we're going to sit down in my office and then we're going to talk, but i can tell youre not quite here yet, not quite back from hell, so we're going to wait right here and you can do all the crying and keening you need alright?"

Tommy knew you wouldn't reply to him just then. He knew the phases, the mean circles these memories dragged you can through. He knew you'd have to go with the current, at their mercy.

If you'd been a man he'd have told you not to give in to them, to take control and dominate them, to shut them away and lock the door on them but it was different with you.

Him and his brother, they'd seen killings and death and all those other satanic agonies, but they'd committed their own atrocities too and their memories, the pains which bit into them and ripped at the mind, as far as he believed, theyd earnt them. They were in a hell of their own making, having ripped plenty of life from this earth themselves. But the women... Hed not seen many women with these ailments, but he knew how theyd got them.

You hadn't earnt them. Youd sacrificed your peace, your sanity in an attempt to save lives. Youd hurt yourself, signed yourself over to torment, to try and sooth the injured men, the dying men, the men ridden with lice, trench foot and festering wounds. Men who'd lost arms and legs, men who'd had chunks blown from their bodies. Men who'd lost their minds.

Youd lost a little of your own mind trying to save theirs.

And you were women. You were good, soft, gentle creatures deep down. You were too good for these kinds of troubles. His instincts with you were to help you, to guide you through the motions as you experienced them.

"Open your eyes love, sit up and look around you eh, you're with me Tommy, we're sitting on a damp street in the rain, someone probably took a piss up this wall earlier... Think about that eh," he offered you a small smirk, half a chuckle, hoping he could draw a little smile on your sad lips.

You were shaking, you wouldn't stop shaking for quite some time, but your eyes were looking around you now, focussing on things that were real and true.

"Is it raining y/n?" he asked you, holding out his hand to feel the air, "i can't tell... What do you think?"

He knew exactly what the weather was doing, he could feel the rain drizzling, it was soft misty and cold on his skin and to anyone else it would have been a daft question. But it was exactly the right question to be asking you.

You coppied him and held your hand out turning your palm to the sky.

"Yeah," you said your voice soft and quiet. You sounded young then, really young and Tommy felt a twinge of sorrow in his heart exclusively for you. "Yeah i think its raining..."

"Do you think or do you know love?" he asked looking at you then, watching as you flexed your fingers catching rain in your palm.

"No i know,"

"Then," he said with a small smile, his hand taking yours, his long fingers curling around yours as he began to stand, "i think its about time we went inside, somewhere warm and dry eh?"

You didnt say anything, just smiled and let him help you up from your place in the dirt.

When he took you inside the building was quiet. There was a lamp left on in Tommys office but not a soul in sight and you figured John was away with Polly and Arthur, off home to be taken care of.

You stood awkwardly, you were feeling quiet and strange still. Your body still didn't feel like your own and you didnt feel at all well. You knew what it was, the drop in adrenaline after a panic attack. Tommy recognised it too the paleness to your cheeks, that sad far away look in your eyes.

"Here, sit down sweetheart... You've had a difficult night and youre tired... I'll have a fix us a drink and you'll feel better..."

He pulled out a chair for you, taking your shoulder as you sat down, guiding you into the seat gently.

You watched as he took out two cigarettes, presenting one to you.

You raised a shakey hand to take it from him but he only gently knocked it away, raising the smoke your lips, waiting for you to close them around it before he took a match and struck it for you.

He watched you intently, waiting patiently for you to breath in on it, to draw the smoke into your lungs. It would help you, it would stop the shaking and settle your nerves. You were still twitching with the after shocks and it pained him to see you struggle in a way he was so familiar with.

When he finally turned from you to pour to glasses of whiskey, you closed your eyes and tried to prepare yourself for what followed. By now you knew that he knew. He knew youd lied to him.

There was only one place women found nightmares such as these.

"How old were you when you joined up y/n, according to the age you gave me when I hired you, you would have been too young to go to france..."

"Mr Shelby you know as well i do how easy it was to lie... But yes, the age i gave you when you hired me is my real age... I haven't lied to you..."

"But you have y/n, you and me were in France... Not together but at the same time... You told me you were in school..."

"I went to school," you said chewing your cheek. His knowing eyes were making you nervous and you had the feeling like he was looking straight through you. "When i got back, thats all, just a few years... Thats all..."

"Is it? Thats all eh.. 16 years old..." he said softly, his voice laced with a strange regret, "a little girl stitching up soldiers on the battlefield..."

"I think they knew i wasnt really 23..."

"Aye," he sighed swirling his drink in his glass, "reckon they probably knew love, you barely look 23 now... No, i think you'd have probably looked exactly what you were... A child..." he ran his fingers through his hair with a soft smile, a bitter smile.

"And i suppose that when they were done with you in France they sent you back here with a quick thank you and wiped their hands of you eh? Nothing for the nightmares?"

"I was just a nurse Mr Shelby, we might have both been to hell but i didn't really see the same hell as you... Its the men who've done real sufferin.."

"Well y/n, I'm affraid thats where you and me disagree... I think you've seen just as much of hell as i did, think we both got the guided fuckin tour eh?" he paused just long enough for you to interrupt but when you spoke you could see that he still had a lot to say.

"Hardly the same Mr Shelby, stichin wounds, than having em... Feelin the agony of em..."

You watched him swallow down your words and consider them carefully before he answered and when he did his answer was simple. It made sense.

"More than one type of agony sweetheart,"

You couldn't deny the truth in those words.

He took a sip of his drink and leant forward, elbow on his knee, glass raised towards you.

"See what you did over there love, in hell... You did angels work, healing and caring and being mothers to those young boys who'd been torn from their own."

"Just did what had to be..."

"truth is y/n that there are men out there, with whole families, little sons and daughters, who wouldn't be here today if it wasnt for you..."

"I know youre no stranger to saving lives mr shelby..."

"Please y/n, call me Tom..." he cut you off, his eyes locking with yours then, all ice thawing through. For a second your breath caught in your throat, you couldnt swallow or think straight, you almost lost your words right from your tongue. But you managed somehow to find them again. Relieved that you did because there were things you wanted to say to him now that he was talking so honest and serious with you.

"I've heard people talk about you, Tommy, know you saved a lot of lives and then threw your medals in the cut"

"Aye," he nodded, "ended a lot of em too... What do you think about that?"

"I think it was a war..." you said choosing your words carefully, "and i think we both wish we never see another..."

"Yeah," he said leaning back in his chair... "i suppose i can drink to that,"

So you did. You raised your glass to meet his and then you drank to peace, and though you wanted to know what had happened to John that night, you didn't ask. Tommy had been kind enough to you, kinder than he should have been considering the lies youd told him. You didn't want to be rude after all that he'd done for you.

And then just like that the second wave hit you, the aftershock. It wasnt a surprise... Tommy had been watching you, knowing it would hit you soon. That you'd probably cry this time, properly sob... That you'd cry like the little girl you should have been allowed to be, and thats exactly what happened.

It took you by surprise but it shouldnt have, this wasnt the first time it had happened and it wouldn't be the last. But the first wave rolled over you and just like that you were clamping your hand over your mouth to catch your sob.

"I'm so sorry Mr Shelby I'm so sorry i don't know whats..."

"Its alright y/n love, let it out eh, youre safe with me," he said placing his glass down on the side, kneeling up beside you to wrap his arms around you, guide you down from your chair to the floor where he bundled you up like a little girl and cradled you to his chest.

"I'm so sorry Mr Sh..."

"Hush now sweet girl, you're not a nurse anymore, dont have to be a grown up now, you cry all you need angel, I've got you," he soothed you, rocking you gently in his arms as he bowed his head to rest with yours and keep whispering sweet, reassuring things to you.

"You're alright now sweetheart, you're alright, Ive got you.... won't let you lose yourself tonight y/n, in my hands youll be alright..."

#tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagines #Tommy shelby imagine

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bluegalaxygirl · 7 months

Text

Am i Crazy? (Zosan X Reader) P7

Plot: Reader hasn't been sleeping or eating, they wont let anyone touch then and keeps having accidents. Everyone if worried or thinks they've gone crazy but the reality is so much worse.

Warning: Past Domestic abuse, Bad language, blood, mental damage, Making out, nudity, suggestive content and fluff.

Zoro X Sanji X reader, Poly relationship, established relationship, Reader is GN.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 8

On the way back Luffy told you all about the robots and the fighting, it was fun but when you got back to the ship you saw a very angry Nami, her foot tapping away with her arms over her chest. You thought you knew what she was going to say so it shocked you when she said the opposite "I was so worried about you two, don't sneak off like that, i-i thought... I'd hug you but your covered in paint" Nami shook as she spoke a mixture of anger and relief, you sigh and look down "I'm sorry Nami... i won't do it again" you felt like a child but you didn't mean to upset her "Now go and get a bath all of you" Nami ordered pointing at the four of you while the others went onto the ship. "Yes mam" you all say in unison walking to the bathroom with your heads down. "I'll bring you guys some cloths" Nami yelled after you all before going off to do what ever she needed too.

The warm water felt great on your skin but your focus was on Sanji, his arm was still bandaged up, but he needed the paint off him before Chopper could fix it so you made it your job to clean his arm. You were gentle with him rubbing the soap over his skin getting the now dried paint off his arm "I'm sorry, it sounded like a good idea at the time" you sigh realizing the mess you've made only to earn a laugh off the cook "It was a good idea" Sanji smiles leaning down and places a kiss on your now clean forehead, you look up to him and run your soap covered hand over his cheek getting a little left over paint off his face, as you pull your hand away Sanji wipes the soap away before placing his hand on your cheek leaning in and placing his lips on yours. You smile into the kiss and lean in as his tongue slides over your lower lip, you sit up more while opening your mouth, the two of you getting a little heated as your tongues meet and your hands go up his bare chest to his neck as his hand runs up your back. You jolt when his hand accidentally touched your old wound making him pull away "Sorry love, i didn't mean too" he panics but you still hold him close "It's ok, its just a little sensitive, you did nothing wrong" you smile placing a soft kiss on his lips before going back to helping him wash.

Zoro sat close by on a stool washing Choppers back with a towel over their laps, the reindeer needed help quite often with washing since he either couldn't reach or his fur got too heavy with the water but someone was always willing to help. "You ok Chopper?" Zoro asks feeling the doctor tense up a little "Ye- i don't know. I feel bad we couldn't save those people" the doctor sighs closing his eyes as Zoro pours water over his fur to wash the soap away. Zoro uses the towel to wipe the reindeer's face before turning Chopper to face him "There's nothing any of us could have done but you did stop him form hurting anyone else" Zoro pats the doctors head who looks up at him with a nod "your right, thanks Zoro" Chopper smiles a little standing up and walking with Zoro to the large bath "Sanji, how's your arm?" The doctor asks slipping into the shallow area of the bath "It's clean now but it stings a little" Sanji raises his arm, the bandage soaked with water but still tightly clinging to his body, there was a bit of blood but nothing too concerning. Zoro gets in on the other side of Sanji and holds the cooks arm looking it over. "I'm fine really" Sanji sighs before being moves by the swordsman who looks over Sanji's back "You were thrown through glass, i'm surprised your back isn't cut up" Zoro sighs running his hand over the blondes back that looked perfectly fine.

Chopper holds his arms out to you as you make your way over picking him up and carrying him through the water to sit with the boys. You push your knees-up so the reindeer can sit on them and not sink into the deep water but you still keep your hands on his sides in case he slides off. "How are your wounds?" Chopper asks looking over your arms and up to your neck "I'm fine Chopper, the hot waters doing me good" you smile only for the doctor to huff and cross his arms "Either way i'm prescribing you bed rest for 5 days" you stop smiling at his words and pull him closer "5 days? Come on Doctor Chopper not that long" the reindeer shakes his head not giving in "Well i think that's punishment enough" Zoro laughs making you snap your head at him "Punishment for what?" you almost yell as Sanji snickers at you "For not doing as your told" the swordsman leans over sanji to point a finger at you "You would be dead if i didn't show up" you groan as Sanji places a hand on your shoulder "Their right but you still need bed rest love" he tried to calm the situation down as you turn away form them and put chopper back in your lap.

You pout a little not happy about the situation but as Sanji leans into your neck your cheeks heat up "Come on love, you need rest, plus it just means more cuddle time" The cook smiles placing a kiss on your neck. "5 days is a bit excessive" you comment still looking away form them, "How about after 3 days if i'm happy with your recovery we can scrap the two days?" Chopper asks making you smile and nod at him. "You're the best Doctor chopper" Chopper squirms a little on your knees and shakes his head and you take the opportunity to continue "Your so sweet and smart and kind.... the best doctor iv ever met" as you continue the reindeer's cheeks get brighter and brighter until he tells you to stop. Sanji laughs at the two of you as Zoro places kisses along the cooks shoulder and up to his neck. "Don't worry me like that again" The swordsman whispers in the cook's ear making the man turn to look at him "I worried you?" Sanji whispers a slight smug smile on his face "Don't do that to me again" Zoro simply reply's running his hand behind the cooks head and bringing him in for a kiss, their lips move in sync before Zoro shoves his tongue into the cooks mouth going a bit rougher as he grabs a fist full of the blonde's hair. Sanji's hand grabs onto the swordsman's bicep squeezing it at the overwhelming feeling of Zoro's tongue roughly plays in his mouth.

You smile at the two before standing up out of the water "Come on lets leave them too it" you giggle Sanji and Zoro waving you and Chopper off with their lips still locked. It's been a very stressful couple of weeks and you know they both need some kind of relief, one that you can't provide at the moment, it hurts too much to even be touched in places. You dry off and get changed into fresh clothes before helping Chopper get dry, using the hair hairdryer and comb you brush and dry the wet fur. It takes quite a while but you decided to take your time since the hair dryer was loud enough to block out any sound the two boy's were making. Once the doctor was dry he pulled out a medical kit he kept in the changing room and helped you apply new bandaged to your body as Sanji and Zoro finally came in. "Have fun?" you laugh a little as Zoro leans down to kiss you, "Hell yea" he laughs back before going to get dry and changed. Sanji walks over looking a little flustered making you smile "You ok?" you ask snapping him out of what ever his trance he was in "HU? oh, yea i'm fine" he sits next to you on the bench and lays his wet head in your shoulder as you kiss his head "Honey, you should get dry so Chopper the wonderful doctor can patch you up." you smile making the doctor blush again.

After everyone was bandaged up and fed you walked into your now fixed room, things looked different than before but that was a good thing and the chair in the corner was now gone, Franky asked if you wanted another one but you said no. You should feel safe so why don't you, why does being in here alone made you feel so heavy. Most of the furniture was destroyed so it would take a while to replace, for now it was just a large bed, side tables, a lamp and a chest of draws. The window on the door was now uncovered letting the moon light in and the floor no longer had blood on it but it still didn't make you feel better. Stepping through the room and stepping into bed you pulled your knees-up into your chest looking around the slightly dark room, you couldn't help the tears that fell, you tried to stop them and wipe them away, but they just wouldn't stop. You laid down under the covers and pulled a pillow to your chest holding it tight, you laid there for a while managing to control yourself as Sanji and Zoro walked in, getting changed into come night cloths before laying in bed with you.

Zoro laid behind you and pulled you into his chest only to feel you shake slightly. "Baby what's wrong?" he asks getting Sanji's attention who was just getting into bed. "Oh baby... come here" Zoro makes you roll over and let go of the now wet pillow as he pulls you into his chest. You can't help but start crying again getting his chest wet as you cling onto him, letting the swordsman lay down with you on top of him. Sanji move the pillow out of the way and moves over wrapping an arm around you and placing his head on Zoro's shoulder, so he can see your tear stained face "What's wrong love?" The cooks voice is soft when he talks to you, you get up the courage to look at him and then Zoro "I-i'm sorry i-i don't know w-why" you manage to get out between shaky breaths. Zoro rubs your back soothing you with soft hushes while Sanji pulls your arm to him kissing from your palm to your wrist "It's ok love, we're here. Your probably just tired and sore." he whispers reassuring you it's ok to cry.

You manage to calm yourself down and stop crying after a few more minutes. Sanji wipes your tears away before helping you lay down on the bed, the cook holds your back to his chest placing kisses on your shoulder as Zoro lays in front of you taking your hand and holding it close to his lips placing light kisses on it from time to time. With the feeling you had before completely gone you feel a lot safer and better about the room your in but a knock at the door startles you causing your body to tense. "It's ok love" Sanji leans over to kiss your cheek while Zoro gets up with a grumble "This better be good" The swordsman groans under his breath before opening the door. "Can i stay with you guy's?" You smile recognizing Choppers voice and giggle a little feeling stupid for being scared. "You ok with that babe?" Zoro calls over to you only to see your smile and thumbs up as Sanji watches you with a smile. Zoro lets the reindeer in closing the door behind the doctor and helping him up onto the bed before getting back in.

You hold you arm out for the doctor who happily lays down between you and Zoro, he cuddles into you as you hold Zoro's hand again "Good night" The reindeer yawns snuggling into you before falling asleep. "Good night" you whisper back before looking up at Zoro with a smile "Thank you, both of you. i'm so lucky to have you two, i love you both so much" you whisper looking behind you to Sanji as you talk. "We're lucky to have you... i love you both" Sanji smiles kissing your shoulder again before laying his head back down on the pillow. Zoro kisses your hand with a small smile while putting his arm over your hip "love you babe's" he whispers referring to the both of you while using your palm as a pillow for his cheek and closing his eye. "I love you guys too" Chopper mutters in his sleep so you place a kiss on his head "I love you too chopper" you whisper before closing your eyes and finally getting a good nights sleep.

#one piece #polly relationship #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #sanji x reader #sanji x zoro #zosan #zosan x reader #zoro x sanji #zoro roronoa #one piece zoro #zoro #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #zosan fanfic #one piece zosan #halloween

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notyour-valentine · 2 years

Text

Steady ~ Tommy Shelby x male!Reader (Fluff)

Summary: When (Y/N) can't figure out a mistake in the accounts, his stress and fatigue get the better of him. He didn't expect any help, least of all from Tommy Shelby.

Note: My first male!reader. Here is my [Masterlist].

I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes

Warning: Blood. Expect canon confirming tone, language and depiction of violence. Your media consumption is your own responsibility.

Request: yes ("Thomas Shelby with a reader who bleed from his nose due to fatigue.")

Wordcount: 1832 words

The light began to flicker for the fourth, no fifth time in the last ten minutes alone, sending shadows over the lines of writing that seemed to shrink in size the longer (Y/N) looked at them.

He had done so for at least an hour now, maybe two, stuck on one and the same problem.

I can't possibly be so stupid. The mistake has to be here somewhere.

That much he knew.

But beyond this page, he hadn't managed to narrow it down and the more often he repeated the calculations on the sheet next to him, the less sense it all made.

There is a mistake and I can find it. I can fix it.

He couldn't possibly go home without finding it. It would be capitulation, it would be failure.

Pathetic.

Especially since he had gotten so much done so far.

The lamp flickered again, as if it was mocking him.

Rubbing his tremble, he pressed the cold pen against it to relieve some of the throbbing.

It was only a small help but he could cling to that as if it was a lifeline, a tiny bit more sanity, a little less agony.

And right now, he was desperate for every last bit that would steady his breathing and soothe the pounding in his head.

He heard it before he felt it, his eyes still forced shut in a pitiful last stand against the headache.

Drip. Drip.

(Y/N)'s eyes shot open and saw the round circles of crimson, slowly spreading out on the pristine white page, like a flower spreading out its petals.

Drip.

No, no, no.

He couldn't get it dirty, that would ruin it. One of his arms shot up, blocking the flow with his sleeve as he fidgeted with the folder to remove the paper before the blood could soak through and stain the other pages.

He came too late for the next two pages, but the one after that had remained untouched.

But that still left him with three pages of earnings that were ruined- that would have to be retyped before anyone found out.

I can do it before anyone notices. I'll have to do it.

But before he could do that, he'd have to ensure that he didn't cause an even bigger mess at his desk.

By now he could smell nothing but iron, and felt the spreading dampness of the soaked shirt reach his lips.

When he stood, his head spun. His other hand braced itself against the desk, the next against Lizzie's, then the door and finally he reached the small kitchen.

For a second, he allowed himself to just stand, both hands clutching the sink until his knuckles turned white as the blood dripped down into the sink.

There was no use now, reaching for a handkerchief. He needed something bigger, something that would be able to soak up enough to prevent a mess.

Searching around he found one of the discarded tea towels and grabbed it with one hand while pinching his nose with the other, in a desperate attempt to stop the flow.

He threw it in the sink and turned on the tap, while the pounding in his head only grew stronger.

This was the last thing he needed, the last thing any one of them needed.

"The hell is going on here?", A sharp voice asked, making (Y/N) realise that it was the second to last thing he had needed.

Still covering his face with his hands, he turned to face his boss- the boss of all Birmingham.

"Nothing to worry about, Mr. Shelby.", He said quickly, his hip hitting the counter.

"I'll put the papers in order, don't worry. Please."

Tommy Shelby's brow furrowed as he closed the distance between them.

"Why the hell are you bleeding? Did anyone try to take the earnings?"

(Y/N) shook his head, only to feel a stabbing pain at the side of it.

A curse slipped from his lips, allowing blood to enter his mouth

He already tasted nothing but, so it made little difference and yet it made him cough.

"Fucking hell.", Tommy hissed as he pulled his hands away as if they belonged to a child and not a grown man.

Whatever he saw made his icy blue eyes widen.

"You look like you've taken a proper beating.", He said through clenched teeth.

"I didn't, though."

He hadn't taken a beating or stood his ground in a fight. He hadn't been strong or brave, but weak. Weak enough to let his nerves get the better of him again.

Tommy Shelby looked at him confused.

"Why are you bleeding?", He demanded to know, repeating the question from before but with less haste and more suspicion lacing his words.

If it were any other man, he would have waved it off, had shrugged and refused to answer, but one didn't do that with Tommy Shelby. Not in this and not ever.

"This happens sometimes.", He mumbled into his already dark sleeve, but that didn't do much good. So he reached for the towel and balled it up in his hands before pressing his face into it, leaning forward.

It made his whole body sway.

"Steady on!", Tommy warned, one hand finding his back and the other clasping itself over the towel.

"Can you still breath like this?", He wanted to know.

(Y/N) muttered a faint affirmation and heard his boss inhale deeply.

He expected him to move back, to walk away and leave him to his nosebleed and worries. And perhaps a part of him would even have preferred it.

Instead, he kept standing right there, one hand on his back and the other holding the towel, so close that he could listen to the sound of his heartbeat.

Even as the minutes passed, he stayed.

(Y/N) didn't know for how long they had stood there, but his own arm was getting weak. If Tommy Shelby felt a similar strain, he didn't let it show.

"'s better now.", He finally assured him when the ache in his arm became too much.

When he removed the towel he took a deep breath. Even if his nose wasn't bleeding anymore, it would soon be crusted with blood.

Wrinkling it in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the itch, he turned away, only to be pulled back around by his hand. The grip was determined but not forceful.

"You look like a pig after being slaughtered.", Tommy said.

Glancing down at himself, he knew he must have a point. His one sleeve was completely soaked, having caught most of his blood, but a decent portion had dripped down to his shirt, staining it beyond salvation.

With one hand he held him in place, as the other pulled forth a handkerchief and held it under running water.

"It'll get ruined.", (Y/N) argued, but Tommy only scoffed as he began to clean the blood off of him with almost military diligence, one hand under his chin.

"When does this happen, eh?", He wanted to know as he dabbed around his nose gently.

"When there's a lot going on.", (Y/N) mumbled. "When there's a lot to do and little time to do it."

He crooked one eyebrow once again, which proved to be a better inquisition technique than the Spanish ever thought of.

"I wanted to get the numbers finished, the one John brought in."

"We don't need them for another week.", Tommy reminded him, twisting the handkerchief around his finger to gain more control in an attempt to get every last bit of blood.

"I wanted to get it done. There was an inconsistency and I couldn't figure it out. I'm sorry, Mr. Shelby."

That man only needed to snap his fingers and he'd be out on his back, or worse. His words carried more power here than any other, but he also didn't need to get others to do his dirty work. Tommy Shelby was perfectly capable of doing that by himself.

And yet the very same hands that cut and beat and killed and blinded were now strangely gentle as they removed any trace of the blood.

"I'll tell you why,", he scoffed. "It's a Friday night and you've been here since what? Eight am? Six? Still trying to do numbers. No wonder you can't find anything."

His mouth ran dry with shame, as the other man shook his head.

A thin line of thought formed between his brows and it stayed there as he continued to work at his face with cold water, his own handkerchief and dedication, until he was pleased with his handiwork.

Once finished, he tossed the handkerchief and the towel into a corner.

"Right, here's what we will do.", He said, clearing his throat. "You won't come in tomorrow. Or the day after. Take the weekend off and rest, you hear me?"

So I'm not fired?

"Monday you arrive no earlier than eight and you bring the books to my office and we'll figure it out together, yes?"

"I can do them tomorrow, Mr. Shelby.", He offered quickly.

"I'm not asking, (Y/N).", Tommy hissed. "Take a day to rest and a day to enjoy yourself. Take some girl dancing or whatever you young people do these days. Think of something other than numbers."

To another, this offer might seem tempting. Not to him though.

"I don't go dancing.", He told the tips of his shoes.

"You don't like dancing?", His boss wanted to know.

He spoke without thinking and regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, like arrows shot before proper aim was taken.

"Don't like the expectations that come after."

To his surprise, Tommy Shelby snorted on amusement.

"Well, you've got all of Saturday to figure out what you're doing on Sunday."

For a moment he hesitated, unsure if his next words would fall on sympathetic ears.

"And if you can't come up with anything, be here at eight. But don't bring your briefcase, 'cause you won't be doing numbers."

Now it was (Y/N)'s turn to look at him confused.

"What then?"

The faintest hint of a smile played on his lips as he tilted his head to one side.

"I'm going to look at how my race horse is doing and some country air would do you good."

Before he could voice his doubt or his concern, or assure him that while he was grateful for the offer, he couldn't possibly accept, he felt Tommy's hand on his shoulder.

"Come on.", He insisted, urging him forward.

(Y/N) glanced back at the crumpled towels, and the light that yet flickered on his desk- remembering the stained papers.

"But the mess. I have to-"

"Someone else'll fix it.", He insisted sharply undermining any chance he would have at an argument. But then his tone softened.

"Now come, I'll drive you home."

End.

Thank you for reading! I’d be very grateful for feedback of any kind! If you are interested in more, here is my [Masterlist]

Tags: @lilyrachelcassidy

#Peaky Blinders #Peaky Blinders imagine #Peaky blinders one shot #Tommy Shelby #Thomas Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x male reader #Tommy Shelby x male!reader #Thomas Shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby x male!reader #Thomas Shelby x male reader #Peaky blinders x male reader #Peaky Blinders x male!reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #Thomas Shelby imagine #valentineswritings #male reader #male!reader

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rogueddie · 2 years

Note

For the Steddie prompts: 13 and 27

13 ; Covered in blood + 27 ; “Sorry I have to take the fangs out before we kiss.”

Steve hadn't really wanted to go to the big Halloween event that someone thought would be a good idea but, as usual, all Eddie had to do was look at him with his sad doe-eyes.

It was a weird mess. Not specifically for kids but that's the majority of those that have turned up. Most of the adults hadn't bothered putting on costumes either and the few that had... well, they were lackluster to say the least.

Steve and Eddie were both a little excited. They'd gotten a little competitive in their costumes. Eddie in his full-on Dracula, with a cape and plastic fangs, Steve in his Madonna look, specifically the white dress she wore at the mtv video music awards.

Eddie had wolf whistled when they'd met up, just outside the event.

"Didn't think you had it in you, big boy," Eddie hadn't been able to take his eyes off the outfit, reaching out to hold his waist like it was a compulsion. "You look... wow."

Steve had laughed, resisting the urge to cross his arms, to hide.

He was painfully relieved when his look didn't get too much negative attention. Oddly enough, it got him more attention from the girls than he'd received for a while. It was worth it for the dark, jealous looks Eddie kept sending him.

"Steve, hey wait!"

Steve turns, frowning at Tommy. "What is it?"

Tommy smirks, stops where he is too- an oddly large distance between them but Steve isn't willing to cross it. "Just... wanted to say hey. It's been a while, ya know? How've you been?"

"Alright?" Steve turns, looking over to Eddie- he looks just as confused as Steve feels. "What do you really want?"

"Nothing!" Tommy raises his hands defensively. "Really. I just-"

He cuts himself off with a snort. At the same time, something wet and cold pours down, directly on Steves head. He squeezes his eyes shut, tensing up, as it very quickly soaks him.

The room goes completely silent after a moment of shocked gasps.

Steve wipes at his eyes- it's sticky, he realizes. Immediately after, realizing what it is that's been dropped on him. When he opens his eyes, his intuition is confirmed; dark, red, blood.

"Funny," Steve says, immediately trying to defuse the tension. He can hear how strained his voice is though. He knows he isn't fooling anyone. "It's a... good reference."

Tommy snorts but, despite how amused he looks, even he seems to know better than to laugh. The air is too thick, too tense.

Steve quietly steps around Tommy, careful to keep his pace even. He's not rushing, he's walking at a normal pace, he's fine.

He's not.

Eddie soon steps out after him, quickly catching up. He grabs Steves hand and pulls him, forcing him to go faster, almost dragging him to his van. He's muttering under his breath the whole time, cursing Tommy out.

"Eddie," Steves tries.

Eddie ignores him, pulling out a towel from the back of his van and trying to wipe as much of the blood off of him as he can.

"Eddie, I'm fine."

"I'm not," Eddie immediately snaps back, turning to glare at the door. "That... fuck him. Fuck all of them. Assholes."

"Really, Eddie, I'm fine. It was a bad joke. I'm just upset that they ruined my hair."

"No, you're not," Eddie finally stops, standing up straight, frowning. "I know how much effort you put into this, baby."

"Yeah, well... it looked good while it lasted, right? It was worth it?"

"Completely. God, so worth it, Stevie. You looked beautiful."

Steve nods, mostly to himself. "So it's fine. I looked great, I even got to have my own Carrie moment. I'd say the night went well."

"Yeah," Eddie huffs a little laugh, looking at Steve with awe in his eyes. "Yeah, alright, it went well."

Steve can't help grinning, grabbing the collar of Eddies shirt to pull him in-

"Oh, wait, sorry," Eddie snickers, gently pushing him back. "I have to take the fangs out before we kiss."

"Jesus Christ," Steve mutters, rolling his eyes. He was trying to sound annoyed. He just sounds fond.

#ask #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #prompt #thingy do bob #steddie fic #ficlet #1327 #OCTPMT

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bandaged-writer · 2 years

Text

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗪𝗘 𝗠𝗘𝗧.

↠ pairing. pm! dazai x reader

↠ genre. i honestly don't know lmao

↠ warnings. mentions of murder/blood/violence

↠ words. 1.1k

↠ summary. "It's a shame that I didn't find you before the Agency. You would've made a fine member of the Port Mafia."

↠ notes. snippet of a fic i'll never write. i just wanted to practice writing a smart character and this is the result. 👩🏻‍🦯

requests are open if anyone is interested!

It's a regular night in which the moon stands high and the Yokohama sea basks in its light. Drops of rain tumble down, blurring the neon lights into one grand panorama and softly drumming against the windows. It's a regular night in which Dazai, a ghost among men, visits Lupin, a drink in hand, Sensei next to him and the scent of gunpowder sticking to him like a second skin.

"Seems like it's only us tonight, Sensei," Dazai muses and the calico cat meows as if it's protesting. The seat Sensei is on is abandoned the moment the door of the bar opens and closes with a mild bang.

You come rushing down the stairs, clothes soaked by the rain and skin cold due to the wind, but your smile is as warm as a candle. If Dazai wasn't careful, he'd likely burn himself, but he liked it best that way.

"I'm sorry for the late intrusion," you speak in velvet tones and there's the hint of a chuckle hidden underneath, "it's raining cats and dogs outside and my umbrella got blown away. I hope you don't mind me staying here for a while."

"Do not worry. I don't mind," the bartender tells you. He's kind enough to fetch you a fluffy towel and you immediately dab your hair dry, apologizing for the drops of water sinking into the wood below.

A hot cup of chocolate is served your way, on the house, as the kind bartender said and you are eternally grateful as the sweet drink burns your tongue. The brief silence that falls over the newly-discovered bar doesn't last long. The handsome brunette sitting a mere chair away from you confidently breaks the silence.

"What is a lady like you doing out at such hours?" Dazai asks with genuine curiosity, his head tilted and regarding you with his lone shimmering eye.

"There was an emergency at work and I got called in to do a little something. It's no big deal, really." You wave your hand in front of your face, a smile on your lips and your cheeks warming up.

Dazai can't help but prod further. After all, he absolutely must know what a beautiful lady like you is up to. "Care to tell me what that little something was? I must admit, I'm rather intrigued now."

You stare into your cup of hot chocolate and let out a regretful sigh. The shimmer in your eyes disappears for the fraction of a second, but nothing ever escapes Dazai's keen eyes. "A colleague of mine was shot. As I arrived at the scene, I concluded that it was the Port Mafia's work."

Oh.

Dazai remembers that a hacker belonging to a new Detective Agency had dug up some sensitive information about the mafia. For him, it was easty to track down the hacker's location and have him killed in the process, because only a dead secret is a secret well-kept.

"Why are you so sure that it was the Port Mafia? It could've been a regular murderer, after all."

And so, you explain how the mafia treats their victims; the broken jaw, the kicked in skull and the three shots to the chest. This method of killing someone is as unique as as a Government ID and only few know of the cruel way the Port Mafia make their victims see imminent death. Not any gun's muzzle is as frightening as the eyes of a mafioso.

Calmly, Dazai closes his eyes and taps the ice-cube in his drink. You're more interesting than any person he had met in a while, capable of recognizing the mafia's way of killing, although not even the police knows of this. Truly a strange individual! Amusing, even! Dazai likes you.

"Allow me to make an educated guess," Dazai started, fingers holding his chin and a smile on his face. "You didn't come here by mere coincidence. Rather, you saw through the entire crime with the help of your Ability. How, when, where and who. That's how you knew where to find me. Am I right?"

You nod your head like a guilty man who's about to receive his verdict and spills every secret like blood. "My Ability I Can Speak gives schemes a voice and allows me to see when it happened and who executed a plan. I wanted to see who killed my colleague."

This wasn't in the files, Dazai silently thought to himself. Currently, the Agency was a small organization of three people if he included the president: Fukuzawa Yukichi, Ranpo Edogawa and Yosano Akiko. The only plausible answer was that you are a newly recruited member.

"So? What are you going to do? Be a righteous civilian and a faithful member to your Agency by arresting me or did the cat get your tongue?" Up to a certain extent, Dazai could read your motives and predict what you might do next, and yet, he has no idea. If you were oh-so-just as the Agency would like to be, then why did you tell him, a mafia executive, about your ability?

You shake your head no. "Neither. I do not have enough evidence to back up my claims against you. The crime scene was left spotless and the Port Mafia's way of killing can't be confirmed by anyone since no one knows about it." You smile into your mug, take a sip and then rest your chin on your palm. "Besides..I don't wish to arrest you. You keep me more entertained as the free man that you currently are, Dazai Osamu."

What is a deep chuckle soon turns into laughter that echoes through the otherwise empty bar and Dazai wipes a tear from his eye like you'd just told him one hell of a good joke. You certainly have the same screw loose as he does; good.

"It's a shame that I didn't find you before the Agency. You would've made a fine member of the Port Mafia." Dazai regards you with the eyes of a man who could use you to his advantage sooner or later. Although he isn't supposed to let you run loose with the knowledge you possess, he doubts you'd run your mouth like a stray dog in search of recognition, awe and everything good.

"I fear I must decline. I do not necessarily like the scent of blood and despise working at night."

At that point, Dazai didn't know that he'd grow fond of you, share drinks and books with you and even spend cold nights in your bed. He would come to regret it at a later point when the two of you stood on opposing sides of the battlefield, although he had seen it coming.

#bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu x reader

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jedipoodoo · 7 months

Text

Changes (Sergeant Hunter x OC, Werewolf AU)

So...More Werewolf AU anyone??? A little inspired by @giganonyx, taking place on the tail end of the latest chapter for The Night is Bleakest Beneath a Full Moon, and featuring my beloved Saachi. Happy Halloween, all!

Notes: blood, mentioned eating people (is it cannibalism if you're a werewolf? I'll tag it just in case), distressed Hunter, literal wet dog Hunter my beloved, I highly reccomend reading gig's fic first.

Tech pointed them in the direction of the lake and helped Saachi collect a couple rags and a towel from what remained of the Marauder's scant supplies. She gave Hunter a ration bar to eat as they walked, but it was hard to eat when his stomach was bubbling like some witch's cauldron, his pants were threatening to slip down at any moment, and he had to lean on Saachi for fear that he might trip over a wrong step. When they reached the muddy shore of the lake, Saachi had Hunter sit on a rock half submerged in the water, and the ration bar nearly slipped from his grasp.

"Hold on to that, just don't eat more than you feel you can," Saachi pressed the back of her wrist to Hunter's forehead for a brief moment. It was slightly warm, but it was no longer an alarming temperature. She set the towel on his lap to stay dry, and soaked a rag in the lake water. It was no Republic med wing, but it would have to do.

After wringing out the excess water, she dabbed at the skin around Hunter's mouth, trying to get rid of the sheer amount of blood that covered him.

She was a surgeon, she was hardly squeamish, but there was so much of it. It shocked her more than sickened her, to think that Hunter had eaten a person.

No, not Hunter, she thought to herself, whatever that... Thing was that Hunter had become.

Hunter pressed his lips closed as rivers of rusty red dripped down his face, dripping off his chin and into the lake water.

"So," Hunter's voice creaked like a door that hadn't been used in ages, "What happened last night?"

Saachi bit her lip. What did happen last night?

"Well...you weren't yourself," That was an understatement. But how was she supposed to describe it?

"Saachi, I honestly can't remember anything after we set up camp last night, but I just threw up a gallon of blood and a handful of body parts. I don't think much else could surprise me."

"Really?" Saachi dared, "Well, you grew hair all over your body, you grew claws on your hands and feet, and you grew taller than wrecker and completely trashed your clothes."

Hunter said nothing.

"Then, Tech had me take Omega to shelter in what's left of the ship while I'm fairly sure you turned into the same kind of wolf creature that attacked you the other day, and you then proceeded to rip off Echo's leg and beat Tech with it. Then, you got into a wrestling match with Wrecker where you would have won had Omega not escaped the ship to find out what was going on. Then you almost tried to eat her, except Tech shot you a couple times and that made you angry and you almost ate him, but then Omega jumped in between you two and almost gave me my third heart attack of the night."

Hunter was silent. Saachi dipped her rag in the water, trying to scrub out as much of the blood as she could against the rock. She wrung out the excess water and dabbed at his cheek again. The beautiful, golden hue of his sun-kissed skin began to peek through the trails of dark red.

Hunter didn't say a word. Saachi sighed, and leaned in, gently pressing her lips to Hunter's forehead.

"It's gonna be okay, Hunt," She whispered, and she could feel him nodding, ever so slightly, under her touch.

When she finished with his face, Saachi made her way down to his neck and shoulders. Whenever the rag became too saturated, she'd rinse it off in the lake water again.

"You should eat some of that," She nudged his hand with the ration bar and took a step back to let him move freely for a moment.

Hunter stared at the ration bar for a moment, and Saachi wondered if he had heard even heard her, but then he took the tiniest bite.

Almost immediately he spit it out, coughing at the taste.

Saachi stumbled backwards at his violent reaction, sending water splashing everywhere.

"Sorry," Hunter kept coughing, "It just... It tastes rancid."

Saachi took the ration bar, turning it over in her hands. It looked perfectly fine for a ration bar, if a little stale, but the expiration date was only a couple weeks ago. No different from their usual meals.

Saachi hazarded a bite herself, and it tasted perfectly normal to her. Had Hunter's transformation altered his already augmented sense of taste?

Hunter slid off the rock and into the water, scooping handfuls of water into his mouth. Saachi tried to stop him and offer her canteen of clean(er) water, but Hunter drank the lakewater with a feverish desire, unbothered by whatever lived in it, or the fact that half the wreckage of the Marauder was partially submerged in the center of the lake.

Once he drank his full he all but crawled out of the lake, collapsing face first in the dirt at the water's edge, breathing heavily.

Saachi cradled his head in her hands, pulling him into her lap so that he could breathe easily. The blood that painted his upper body was now covered with mud, mixed with leaves and twigs. It was getting all over her clothes now, but she hardly cared, not when Hunter was clinging to her like this.

"I have... I have no idea what's happening to me," Hunter gasped, tears eeking out the corners of his eyes.

"That's okay," Saachi murmured. She pulled him closer, lifting him up and resting his head against her shoulder. Hunter's hand dug into her shirt, and his nails felt sharp against her skin. Saachi ignored it, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his hair.

"I'll help you figure it out," she whispered, "I promise."

#lizart writes #sergeant hunter x oc #tbb hunter x oc #my ocs #saachi gunder #werewolf au #werewolf hunter #happy halloween #the bad batch oc #blood #blood tw #cannibalism tw

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thekristen999 · 2 years

Text

WIP Wednesday

Here is a snippet of the new story that has taken over my brain. A darker tone canon-divergence AU set in S3 with different first meeting. /o\. I feel like this will be on the longer side of things.

>>>

The problem with playing doctor was that it paid very well. Buck was able to catch up on all his bills and then some. It would idiotic to turn down work. He could stick to the medical stuff part time and still catch a few hours for his real job. At least the one according to the city of L.A.

Most nights consisted more of the same. Injuries that would raise red flags at the hospital, but nothing that required emergency care. Buck had been insistent that he not receive critical patients. He’d been a firefighter not an EMT.

He bit his bottom lip at the thought, quietly pushing through multiple nights of questionable decisions.

“Oh, fuck me,” he cursed under his breath when Diaz walked in. Again.

This time Diaz helped a different guy onto the exam table. Buck’s eyes were immediately drawn to the blood soaked towel wrapped around his patient’s hand.

“Dog bite,” Diaz explained.

Putting on some fresh gloves, Buck pulled the towel away from the guy’s hand. He glared at Diaz. “Was it freaking Cujo?”

“Don’t know.”

“Don’t know or don’t care?”

“I wasn’t there, man. Happened before I arrived.”

Diaz crossed his arms over his chest. If his ten-thousand yard stare was meant to intimate Buck, he had another thing coming.

His patient’s hand was a mess. The shot of morphine Buck gave him was the only reason why he’d been able to tolerate the procedure. In fact halfway through when the guy laid his head onto the table and started snoring.

“You know he could have bled out before you got here.” Buck didn’t get a response which only incensed him more. “Do you know how many major veins are in the human hand?”

“Five.”

Buck glared at Diaz who just leaned against the wall like he had somewhere else better to be.

Buck kept most of his focus on keeping his stitches in neat clean lines to leave the least amount of scarring. He might have looked up every once and a while to glance over at Diaz, only to find the other man watching him.

And that really wrangled him. Who did this guy think he was constantly judging and correcting Buck’s work?

Diaz looked like he’d just rolled out of bed with his black hoodie and sweatpants. The guy was probably a bouncer at a bar or strip club. He had that look. The chiseled jaw, well muscled body, those dark mysterious eyes.

God, could his thighs be thicker? Buck bit his bottom lip.

...

tagging @homerforsure, @mellaithwen, @megslovesbooks, @renecdote @fleurdebeton @jacksadventuresinwriting and anyone else who wants to play.

#wip wendesday #kristen999writes #S3AUofdoom

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angelicsentinel · 2 years

Note

Maybe some RanAo - getting ready for date night and Ran hyping up Aoko? 👉👈

So sorry for the delay! It's not exactly to the prompt, I had a hard time fitting the vibes, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

date night

“How am I supposed to do it, Shinichi?” Ran asks him, frantic. Ran is on video chat with him, so through the screen on her phone, she can tell he's exasperated. But honestly, she's out of ideas. Shinichi’s the oblivious type, but Kazuha and Hattori-kun aren't quite there yet, so she can’t ask Kazuha, and he's the one with a dedicated partner he’s kept somehow, so...

“Don't ask me!” Shinichi says. “I've met her what, once? Is she the kind of person that wants a big romantic gesture, or does she prefer something quiet?”

“I don't know! It doesn't seem like she minds small things, but I've seen the way her eyes light up when we watch something romantic together. Should I do it at a fancy restaurant? A date at Tokyo Tower? Or how about maybe going for ice cream and doing it in the park, next to the fountain? Though it’s really been too cold for that. I could wait until Christmas, maybe? Or take her up north and do it in the snowfall?”

Shinichi sighs. “Honestly Ran, I think she'll just be happy enough that you asked. I could tell that she really loves you.” The loud sound of a door slamming in the background, and Shinichi's face moving from indulgent to worried. “Uh-oh.”

“Is it…?”

“Yeah, and in full crisis mode. Sorry Ran, I'll have to call you back.”

“All right. Talk to you later, Shinichi.”

“See ya, Ran.”

And that leaves her back to where she was before, sitting at home alone with no idea how to propose to her girlfriend. Which she is hoping to do. On their date. Her date for which she hasn’t settled on a location.

But Ran’s also worried. Kuroba-kun being upset usually means Aoko’s not too far behind. She puts some water on for the tea, cuts up some lemon, and scrounges in the cabinet for honey.

Like clockwork, her phone lights up with a message from Aoko. I’m sorry, it says. I just can’t do it tonight.

Ran’s disappointment is immeasurable and her day is ruined. She can’t help the resentment that wells up towards Shinichi’s boyfriend. That ass. Ugh!

She sighs, then she makes herself a quiet dinner, still mulling it over, no closer to a solution that she was before.

Ran's doing dishes when she hears a knock on the door. She wipes her hands on the towel next to the sink “A client?” she says to herself. There shouldn't be anyone today.

She opens the door to find Nakamori Aoko standing there, soaking wet in a beautiful floral blue dress, now ruined. Her hair is straggly and plastered against her face, her eyes are blood-shot and red-rimmed, her mascara running down her face. She looks terrible, and even though Ran isn't a detective proper, it doesn't take her long to deduce the cause.

“Aoko!” Ran says, hand flying to her mouth. She grabs her coat from the hook and wraps it around her, guiding her to the sofa and sitting her down.

“But s-shoes!” Aoko-chan says, teeth chattering, near tripping when she tries to slide them off so she won't dirty the floor.

“Don't worry about them,” Ran says. They're muddy, but, “It's nothing that a good little bit of scrubbing won't get up. Besides, your comfort is more important than a clean floor. Let me make you some tea to warm you up, all right?” She’ll have to reheat the water, but that’s nothing, really.

“You don't have—”

“Let me, all right?” Ran says sweetly, but it's clear that she will not tolerate any response other than yes.

“All right,” Aoko says. Ran kneels down, slides Aoko's heels off, sets them down in the entry way.

Ran busies herself in the kitchen while Aoko looks around. They've been dating for a while now, but this is the first time she's ever come inside her home proper. Ran comes out in a moment with some towels, looking Aoko over. “Why don't you go take a shower? If you leave the door cracked a little, I'll put out some clothes for you.”

Aoko takes her up on her offer, water hot enough to near scald her skin, and she has to admit that she does feel a little better afterward. Ran has a cute little boat neck top and a pale blue skirt out for her as she steps out. Aoko didn't even hear her come in. She squeezes the water from her hair and then braids it, still wet, pulling it over her shoulder.

A short while later, she sits back down on the sofa, and Ran presses a steaming cup of tea into her hands, sitting down next to her, knees touching Aoko's.

“You don't have to talk about it,” Ran says. “I can just keep you company if you'd like.”

Aoko bites her lip. She can't talk about this to Keiko because Keiko doesn't know the whole story, and Akako-chan intimidates her just a little. She'd met Ran at Police Headquarters after a case that had involved...Kaito, and Ran has truly proven to be an amazing person in the time she's known her. Aoko can't believe Ran asked her out. And Ran knows, if not all of it, then enough to understand.

She's heard a little about Kudō-kun, and Aoko thinks—Aoko thinks she would understand. Kudō-kun and Ran are very close still, for all Kaito has moved on from Ran with him, and well—

“Bakaito’s an idiot,” she says, redundant.

Ran nods sagely, taking a sip of her tea. “I’ll drink to that.”

Aoko sips her own tea. It heats her down to her toes. “It’s stupid.”

“Not if it hurts your feelings,” Ran says. “It was obviously significant enough for you to end up on my doorstep in tears.”

"It's just, he was just teasing, but he said I dressed like a grandma. I liked that dress." Aoko sniffles, holding on to her cup. "It was a small argument and it escalated and we argued about different things, old things, and I don't know, I felt too ugly to leave the house." She spins the cup around. "I still feel too ugly to be here," she says.

"I always thought I was plain," Ran says, sending a furious message through her phone.

"You're kidding!" Aoko blurts out.

"Still do, actually. My mother said I'd grow into it, but honestly, I'm average and okay with it."

"Well I think you're beautiful," Aoko says.

Ran smiles. "I think the same about you." But then she tilts her head, thoughtful. "Well, maybe beautiful isn't the word I'd use." Before Aoko can even feel hurt, Ran adds, "Sexy is more like it."

Aoko blinks. "What?"

"You are the sexiest thing alive," Ran says. "When I saw you giving the task force a piece of your mind, I knew I had to get to know you better." Ran's phone pings. She looks at it and smiles.

"O-oh," Aoko says, blushing furiously.

"I think I like you best like this," Ran muses, staring at Aoko with such warmth it takes her breath away. "No make-up. Skin hot from the bath." Ran's voice grew husky. "In my clothes."

Aoko swallows.

Ran laughs, still husky. "In fact," she says, bringing out a box from her bag and opening it. "I want to marry you."

"Ran—"

"I know, I know, it's not legal yet. But when we're able—"

Aoko throws her arms around Ran, knocking her back against the sofa. "Yes!"

"Not exactly how I was planning to ask you," Ran says. Aoko's eyes are sparkling, and she wants to kiss her.

So she does. They kiss long and languid, Aoko wedging a knee between Ran's thighs.

"Date night here isn't so bad," Aoko says, resting her head on Ran's large, soft breast.

"I'll take you somewhere special," Ran says, playing with some drying strands of hair that had fallen from her braid. "Propose to you properly."

"I'd like that," Aoko says.

They lay in silence a few minutes together, Ran still stroking Aoko's scalp.

"There's still time to go out," Ran says. "I can help you get ready."

Aoko sits up. "It's really okay! You don't have to go through all that trouble—"

"Imagine Kuroba-kun's look when I let you borrow what Sonoko calls my man-eater dress and post our pictures together."

Aoko giggles. "He's not going to know what hits him."

Ran smiles, demure. "What do you think? Good revenge?"

"It's a start," Aoko says.

Ran wiggles her phone. "I've already guaranteed he's getting the couch tonight~"

"Oh, you are devious. I knew there was a reason I loved you," Aoko says.

"Just one?" Ran asks.

"A lot more than one," Aoko says, giving her a very slow once over, eyeing her very fit body. "two, three, four…"

"Dessert after dinner?" Ran asks, giving her a once over in turn. She really does look good in her clothes.

"We could have dessert first," Aoko says.

"I really like the way you think," Ran says, and she links their fingers together, pulling her into the bedroom, and shuts the door.

#dcmk #detective conan #magic kaito #mori ran #nakamori aoko #RanAo #ran x aoko #minor kaishin #sentinel writes #sentinel responds

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romeulusroy · 2 years

Text

Empathetic (Bucky Barnes Oneshot)

Character/s: Bucky

Word Count: 1,288

Tag List: Not including

A/N: This is my 1,000th way of saying I want to be taken care of and I want him to do it. Basically. Home is hard right now, it hurts a lot, and I just needed to write a bit for therapy. Things will get better soon. Idk maybe it's weird, but if it can help anyone struggling with basic things, then that's all that matters :) 💕 Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLISTS / TAG LIST

The bathroom smells of mold. Spores sleeping just beneath the surface. That distinct, pungent odor. Not entirely overpowering, rather growing, pulsing alongside the steam of the water. It’s there. You’re overtly aware of its presence, as if it were growing out of your back, from your stomach and arms. Sprouting from your spine. All of it is wet. Humid. Uncomfortable. It threatens to suffocate you. Then again, what doesn’t? What doesn’t feel like too much? You search for it, some sign, proof, but there is none. No dark spots, no birthmarks, nothing on the edge that screams rot, that announces itself the way so many things do. A feeling mostly, and that ache. In the middle of your chest, in the middle of your sternum. Deep and painful, the whole bone cracking, crumbling. It leaves you sobbing. It leaves you pleading. It leaves you feeling dirty, hence the shallow waters of a dirty bathtub. You should clean it more. Scrub it ‘till it shines. You should do a lot of things more frequently. Carve a routine from the mundanity of your days. Breathing is work enough. Exhausting enough. Oh well. The bloated walls moaning, groaning, all of it too thick. A sponge for the hours, days, lifetimes you’ve spent soaking under the water. The damp towels hanging over the edge, dipping shyly in the water long cooled. There is a vague soapy undertone to the room. Hints, attempts, but nothing with a name. Nothing distinct. You like to think of yourself vaguely soap-adjacent. Neither of you put up much of a fight. A single drop across the floor, a bump, a nudge, and you’re forever dented. Scarred. Unsettled. Like it, or like you, you find yourself swaying which way. Something for people to use until they no longer need you, until you’ve grown small and fragile. Breakable. The bar lays in her dish. No one wants you at your most vulnerable, turning to the bin for answers. She is exhausted. If she had bones, joints, blood vessels, if she could bruise you were sure she’d be covered. Deep purples, golden yellows, the kind of palette an artist would use when they fumed, burned with a passion for pain. She too would sob quietly at the end of her days for no particular reason than this life she’s been gifted, that she often feels as if she’s taking for granted, leaves more scars than she anticipated.

You are grateful she is just soap. Unfeeling and numerous.

Behind the mirror, sitting on their individual sleeves, are bottles. Containers that hold your whole life. White labels. Congealed liquids. Gels. Pills. Lotions. Creams. Oils. The things you use to hold yourself together, things you thought might fix the problem. Problem. Singular, it can be such a horrific idea. A lie you wish to wash over yourself. They are wgite and yellow and blue and green and red, their shades all in pastel. Pastel is cheery. It is childlike. There is safety in chewy, sweet colors. The pills. Your pills. Some work. Others don’t. It doesn’t really matter anymore. They are decorations at their worst. If only that was your worst. In front of the mirror you can’t stand to look so you don’t. There are imperfections. There are tea stained cheeks and deep bags beneath tired eyes. There are things, miniscule things, to fixate on, to tear apart. It’s the only form of self love you’ve ever been shown: criticism. A disgust, a feeling shy of hatred. When the water runs, it burns, and you are thankful for the steam that settles across your image. Blurring spots and shapes and colors. The sink is sweet. Slim, tender, she waits while you wash your hands, while you spit and sob and scream. Of all her sisters, she is your favorite. The faucet streams without doubt, shielding the world out there from in here. Vice versa. You could stand there for days, statue-esque, with nothing but the faucet turned on. A dribble, a drip, unapologetically controlled yet released by her emotions. This act buys you both time. A minute, perhaps even two, before you must gather all your pieces and pretend what you’re doing isn’t self-sabotage.

Like this isn’t suicide.

He doesn’t need to knock, but he will. Quietly. Softly. As if he were afraid to wake the dead. You don’t say anything. You can’t. He comes in anyways. He holds a towel. Fluffy, warm, fresh from the dryer. You would have chosen anything but. Flimsy, holy, full of holes. Something quick. You would have done anything not to show yourself, your body, a speck of kindness. He drags out soaps. Not your bar, not your little lady who cries and cries. Bottles, mostly full, of all scents. Strong. Abrasive. A sponge, too. He doesn’t say what he thinks, what he wishes to say, though he never had to. You could always read it in his features. Between the lines of his face. The tighten of his jaw. The crease of his forehead. He is upset. Not with you, never with you, merely the circumstances. A yearning for the water to be warmer, more welcoming. For things to be easier. For the world to be kinder. You don’t shrink from his touch, from his sight. Trapped in a nakedness you feel is far more vulnerable than sobbing in front of him and bearing your open soul, there is little left to do than accept. His presence was never an inconvenience, a nuisance, nor predatory. Rather this is his routine, his way of communicating. Loving. Without him, the impossible task would never get done. You would never find your way out. You would never wash off the outermost layer of dread and depression. Carefully, gently, he’ll place your hand in his, bubbles smooth across your fingers, your palm and wrist. Skin of lead, it is difficult to lift both arms, a chin, tilt a head side to side, all on your own. Knees to chest. Fetal position. He talks lightly of his day, the idea of you going without revolting. Disrespectful. You want to nod along, to laugh and ask questions. For now that is too much. For now catatonic, but not forever. He jokes, he knows just what to say, how to say it, as he cups the water, leans you back.

There is not a second of patronization.

With his fingertips, he circles the apples of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, along your hairline. This is the last. It is almost over. You watch through teary eyes. This was not the plan. This was never the plan. And yet, it is. It was. Always. To care is to do so wholeheartedly. Without judgment. Without hesitation. He stands you slowly, the towel wrapped around you as if it were holding you together. His shirt is wet. Stained. Your hand print on his shoulder. It lingers. The plug of the drain is pulled. Gurgling like a newborn, it rids the room of any evidence. You rest your head against him, a wordless thank you. It is all you can manage. That and the brush of a tear. Bucky is all smiles, his arms wrapped around you as if he’d never let go. He didn’t want to. The kind that are easy, effortless. The kind you understand is of joy, pride, not at himself, but you. Only for you, for what you’ve accomplished. It doesn’t feel like much. It rarely ever does. But he is proud. He knows it is one step closer. It will be okay again. You will be able to do it on your own, without him, without help. One day, but not today. And that’s okay. It always will be.

#writing #bucky barnes #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes oneshot #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier oneshot #the falcon and the winter soldier drabble #fatws #fatws drabble #fatws oneshot #marvel #marvel drabble #marvel oneshot

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thrall-of-the-hill-arch · 2 years

Text

SFBF - Week 2 - Michael & Anne

prompts: Gore. Toys. Fluff. CNC

keywords: Cold. Rapture

Sunshine in the winter time felt like an angel's kiss; morning frost melting into droplets on warm skin. Crimson droplets fell off Michael’s skin, staining the near perfect snowfall under his feet, boot crunching to alert those around he was finally moving once more. The predator had taken flight, leaving a shaking young man in his wake. The cold or remnant adrenaline could be to blame; he’d allow her to make her own assumptions as she took the sight of him in. Blood soaked the young man from the tips of his blonde locks to the leather of his boots; a sight she was becoming all too familiar with at her door. Winters seemed to push him to her threshold over crossing the woods to his home once more. The young man never told her about the home; he barely spoke a handful of words in the number of times they had met. At the most, she knew he could talk and that his name was Michael.

It seemed he had a nasty habit of finding trouble when allowed to wonder on his own; the woods held many terrible secrets. Anne often wondered what they would do if they actually started to uncover the bodies buried there, by him and those before him. Would they ever stop digging? The coven was a rotted shell of what it used to be; Michael was the most recent ‘experiment’ they had picked up. They dotted on the young man as if he were a brother to them, or a crush. Anne didn’t think he cared for anyone in that way. She wasn’t sure he had ever been taught how. She wasn’t about to try, so she elected to show him simple things. Kneading bread, which he seemed pretty good at already- they used him for kitchen work, it seemed. Soon she showed him how to patch his clothes, for as nimble as the man seemed with a blade, his coordination with a needle was atrocious. They worked on that until he could do enough to get by.

She broke from her small trance of thought when he let out a small hum, his means of asking for permission. Nodding, she watched the young man strip to nothing before he wondered into her guest shower. Mud and blood would cake the tub edges. Something for her to clean as she considered trying again. Getting him away from the women for any length of time had been difficult; she baited him with warm showers and treats at first. Once he felt comfortable enough to shower on his own and stayed to learn, Anne had asked him about leaving the witches. He had stopped showing up for almost a month after that. She didn’t ask again. Hearing the shower turn off, she moved to get an old towel, as well as the man did to clean himself, remnant blood often stained his skin if not patted away. The woman often found herself wondering if it was appropriate, her help and her efforts; she nearly as often came to the conclusion he needed someone to keep him in mind. Michael was little more than a hobby or pet to the women that were supposed to mind him.

Part of her wanted to ask if he told the women of his visits, it was better if he didn’t. Against a whole coven, she was practically useless. Hell, against Michael, she doubted she’d make it out alive.

Standing to greet the man with the towel around his waist, she motioned for him to bend down. Reaching for his hair, she ran the dry material through it a few times to collect stray water, as suspected crimson streaks soon came out clear. Anne used the pads of her fingers to work down to his scalp; she could hear a familiar purr building in the man’s chest as she did. “You need a shave, Michael- it's not filled in enough yet,” she teased, motioning for him to stand once more. As he did, Anne hung the towel on the banister. She’d throw it in the wash once he was on his way back through the snow. “Michael, I wanted to show you something,” she spoke calmly while the man started to dress himself again. It seemed he didn’t have much time to stay that evening. When he seemed ready to follow, she started for the garage, where she had first found him. Huddled by the tailpipe of her car, trying to steal some warmth, he had been a muddy and pathetic sight. The man used to hesitate following her into that place; he no longer had reason to fear it.

“I started to make you a gift. But, I want your input on something,” she opened the tool cabinet as the man stared at her curiously. Moving to the counter, the woman set down a tan bag, revealing only two items to him. One was a dark green scarf; it looked soft to the touch and warm. Michael fought the urge to rip it from her hands as she moved to get the second. It was far smaller than the scarf, a soft metal ding rang out as she set it on the counter. A small leather flap held together by a metal fish, a keychain holding a single golden key on its loop.

“Which one do you want?”

“Want?”

“To keep. I know you can’t take them home, but they’ll be in this closet for when you’re here,” she explained slowly to the other before letting him look both over. Taking the scarf, the man rubbed it on his face. A pleased hum left him before he set it down to inspect the keychain. “Where does the key go?”

“The front door, I keep the garage unlocked, but in case you need to get inside.”

The silence to follow felt tense. Michael’s breathing slowed, and both items were returned to where she had laid them out. It was a full measure before he spoke again.

“I have to pick?”

A relieved sigh left the woman followed by a breathy chuckle, it seemed he was feeling braver than usual. Perhaps a bribe would have worked better sooner, “Well- since it seems you like them both. I think you can have both.”

“What do you want?”

“That’s the thing about a gift, Michael. I don’t want anything back- I just want you to have them.”

Michael’s face often lost any real emotion when he was deep in his thoughts, eyes glazed over .

“If this is too much-” Anne paused, seeing the ghost of a smile break over his lips.

“Thank you.” It was the closet she had come to see any type of pleasure in the man’s features. Anne wondered what his full smile would look like. A rapture of sorts, she imagined, pure joy. Just the small break in his lips made her desire the help the young man grow tenfold, she would free him of that life.

At any cost.

@the-slasher-files

#sfbf #the-slasher-files #week 2 #jason

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celestial-kit · 3 years

Text

Everything Has Changed

I’m not sure what this is, I was just thinking about what Bakugo might be like when he first feels an attraction for someone... and then this happened.

Pairing: Bakugo x reader

Warnings: Fluff, brief mention of penetration, slight NSFW themes, Minors DNI

______________________________________________________________

I headcanon that Bakugo doesn’t start exploring his romantic and sexual attraction to others until after he’s graduated high school. He’s always been observant, so he could recognize when someone was attractive, but he was never actually attracted to anyone because he was so focused on everything else. Winning sports festivals, doing work studies, training to stay on top of his rivals and teammates. It just never occurred to him that he could be a hero and be in love.

He starts to recognize that he is a romantic and sexual being when he meets you. It wasn’t love at first sight, but rather a series of events that sparked a heat inside him that he had never felt before.

You meet because you both start working as sidekicks at the same agency right out of high school. He didn’t pay much attention to you at first because you were quiet, focused on doing your work and getting experience in the field. Your boss often paired the two of you together for patrols, your quiet nature making it so that you don’t rile Bakugo up like some of the other sidekicks. It was on your 5th patrol together that Bakugo first recognized your skill as a hero.

It was a rather quiet day, not much happening as the two of you strolled the streets. You didn’t talk much outside of the occasional comment about where you should patrol next. As you were about to turn a corner onto a new street, a man dressed in black pushed past the two of you, running at full speed. Behind you, you both hear a woman cry, “My purse!” Bakugo briefly looks back over his shoulder to try to determine where the cry came from, while you automatically pushed forward to chase the bandit, sprinting after the man that was admittedly twice your size. When you caught up, you took your bo staff and swept his feet, making him fall forward on his face. You quickly clambered onto the man’s back, using your body weight to pin him, kicking the purse out of his reach, and zip tying his wrists together. The whole interaction took maybe 15 seconds, but it took Bakugo by surprise. He didn’t expect you to have the courage to jump into action so quickly, and he hadn’t realized that you were so strong. He knew then that he had been underestimating you, and it made him take you more seriously, and pay more attention to you.

The first time he realized he was attracted to you was the first time you sparred together. After that day on patrol, you started talking more, you learned about each other's training habits and quirks. He learned that you focused a lot of your training in martial arts. Since you were smaller, you knew you needed to know how to counter opponents that were bigger than you, and martial arts gave you the skills you needed to do that. One evening after work, you asked Bakugo if he wanted to train with you, and he said yes, expecting to pin you quickly and go home. You both agreed not to use your quirks and the winner would be the person that could pin the other for 5 seconds.

Bakugo was much larger than you, his biceps the size of your head, bulging when he reached out to try to pin you. You skillfully dodged each of his advances, using his momentum to land your own attacks and keep him off balance. Frustrated, Bakugo finally let loose a growl and lunged at you, attempting to use the sheer size of his body to force you down. You placed a hand on his shoulder when he neared you, kicking your legs over the both of your heads into a semi-cartwheel and forcefully brought one knee down into the middle of his back, the pressure making Bakugo’s legs go numb and his body to topple to the ground. He found himself in a similar position as the bandit that you had taken down on patrol, with you sitting on his back, his arms pinned behind him and his cheek against the ground. He looked up at you from the corner of his eye, a frustrated frown painted on his face. You can’t help but to let out a quiet giggle and a simple “I win” as you give him a small smile.

Your hair had mostly fallen out of the ponytail you had put it in before your match, pieces of it sticking to your forehead with sweat. Your eyes glowed with pride as you sat on top of him, and Bakugo could feel a faint blush creep onto his cheeks and blood rush south as he imagined you in this position above him, sinking onto his full cock with that same look in your eyes. When he got the feeling back in his legs, he pushed up on his arms, bucking you off his back and stalking towards the locker room, keeping his back to you to hide his semi-hard length.

After that moment, Bakugo couldn’t stay away from you. He never admitted his feelings to you, of course, but that didn’t stop him spending time with you, taking in the way you always greeted him with a gentle smile, how you never flinched when he yelled at the other sidekicks, your lightweight touch on his back as you tried to get around him in the copy room. You started getting dinner together, too. It wasn’t a date, despite what Kirishima said, Bakugo just wanted to eat dinner with a friend who he was incredibly attracted to.

You took turns recommending places to eat, trying new things, and rating them at the end of dinner. This week it was your turn and you had been craving Pho, so you recommended a restaurant near the agency that served it. You laughed at Bakugo as he piled his Pho with jalapenos and sriracha, trying to make it spicier. You enjoyed every bit of your meal, even bringing the bowl to your lips to drink the remaining broth of your soup. After you were both finished, Bakugo paid the bill and you started walking home.

“I rate it a 10,” you say, satisfied, rubbing your full belly. “What do you rate it?” You look at Bakugo expectantly.

“Tch,” he scoffs, keeping his pace slow as he walks you to your apartment. He wants to take his time, he doesn’t want to say goodbye yet. “It wasn’t that good. 5,” he shrugs.

“What? You’re too picky, that was a good meal,” You say with a pout.

“I’m not picky, I just have high standards,” Bakugo says as he feels a water droplet land on his cheek. He pulls a hand from where he had it shoved in his pocket, reaching out to feel more droplets hit his palms. He looks up to see gray storm clouds over your heads, so he reaches out to grab your hand and starts pulling you quickly to your apartment building. Just before you’re about to make it to the safety of an awning, the rain starts to pour and you both get soaked.

After pushing inside your building, you ask Bakugo if he wants to dry off in your apartment. He nods, letting go of your hand and following you up the stairs. Inside your apartment, he finds himself lingering in your living room while you change into dry clothes and search for a towel for him. When you return, you’re dressed in sweats and a white t-shirt that does nothing to hide your hardened nipples from Bakugo’s gaze. You bring him a fluffy towel, pulling him down to your level and plopping it on his head, drying his hair yourself.

He grunts at the action, unsure how to process the affection. When he looks at you from under the towel, he can see a smile on your face, but your eyes are dark and it’s like there is something else plaguing your mind. He watches as your eyes wander down his torso, taking in the way his dark, wet shirt clings to his muscles, and then finally lands on the space between his legs where he can feel himself hardening. You release a small gasp, but don’t pull away, instead simply bringing your eyes up to meet his for a few seconds before you lean in and place a short kiss on his lips.

Bakugo’s eyes widen when you press your lips to his, confused at first, and then closing them after he finally processes it all. You like him. You want him. And he wants you. When you pull away from him, he stands to his full height, dragging the towel off his head till it hits the floor, and then he’s grabbing you by the waist to pull you into a searing kiss. You gasp again and Bakugo takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, doing his best to make it clear how he feels, that he wants you, he needs you, and he doesn’t want to waste another moment without you.

When you part from the kiss, Bakugo looks into your eyes, trying to gauge your reaction, and he finds you smiling with glossy eyes and bruised lips. He gives you a small smirk and you giggle at him, aware that he’s not the type to lay his heart on his sleeve, confess his love and tell you how he feels. But you know how he feels, he tells you in the way his grip tightens around your waist, in how he pulls you into his chest and tucks his head into your neck, in the way he breathes in your scent and hums against your skin. Bakugo has feelings for you, and now that he has you, he won’t let you go.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #bakugo katsuki

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