#and he tries to throw himself into his search but it feels empty under the desperation

[randomwriteronline]

Thinking about volo and cogita living like a fuckton of decades but still eventually. You know. Dying. And how that would fuck up volo specifically.

Like this guy is absolutely driven by one thing and one thing only. Hes 100% ready to spend his entire life looking for a way to get up to God's doorstep to ask it why he wasnt chosen to be its most specialest boy, and the fact cogita is always sort of somewhere next to him metaphorically or literally is like an afterthought. She's his only semblance of family through one way or another and also old as balls and looking just fine for her age so of course shell just always be in her tent drinking tea, using unfathomably powerful ancient artifacts to cut the vegetables for her evening soup that she will serve to him while berating him for being an idiot with delusions of grandeur when he comes back after another useless search.

Except one day he walks in and shes laying on her chair completely still. Her hat is on the floor and her pose is absolutely graceless. Shes cold. Unmoving.

Shes dead.

And he looks at her and doesnt even check, theres a layer of dust on her gloves and everything else, and the water in the cup that shattered on the floor is completely dried up, and there's a pungent smell of sorts that he didn't realize drenches the whole tent. Shes dead. Shes been dead for a bit of time now.

And volo stands and looks at her dead; he buries her with no thoughts, and then he sits at the same chair she sat in when she died, at the same table she sat before when she died, and he realizes, hes alone; and he realizes, dear God, i will die too eventually.

And he goes insane.

But its not his kind of boisterous and excessive deranged sort of show, where he makes himself a little outfit and a stupid haircut and screams at the heavens and siks a giant ghost worm from hell on a teenager, its a perfectly quiet madness that makes him feel incomprehensibly small and meaningless and powerless against everything: against nature, against others, against himself. Hes alone and he realizes cogita will not chastise him, and it feels good; he realizes he doesnt know how she makes her soup, or her tea, how she keeps her calligraphy so neat, how she dealt with not having an heir for ages, how she dealt with having such an incomprehensible heir, how she handles enamorus (who doesnt even show up to volo when spring comes, and simply never comes back) or what she thought of her own myths; and he feels like shes resting her hands on his shoulders with a weight that will crush him, and he realizes, dear God, i will die too eventually, and nobody will even know i existed.

Maybe he just needs to find God. Maybe he just needs to find Arceus. Work harder on it. So he can ask it everything. So he can figure out how to never die, or how to exist forever.

And when he finally does it (because the times change and life has many doors, johnny boy) and he finally stands out of time and space and reality and he has Arceus right before him and so many questions, his mind wanders to ask about where enamorus is now, and it brings him to the image of cogita cold and graceless and unmoving, just dead, and replaces her body with his, and he spends the precious time he could use to question god in perfect silence, drawing the biggest blank of his life.

And then before he knows it its over and he has no second chance.

And he realizes, dear god.

I am going to die alone.

And decades later his only granddaughter forgets to visit him one day, and shows up the next with a book of myths under her arm as an apology, and she finds him slumped over his chair cold and still and graceless, with a broken cup of water drying up still on the floor.

And Cynthia looks at him and thinks, very slowly: dear god.

I will die too eventually.

#pokémon #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon volo #pokemon cogita #pokemon cynthia #death tw #random talks #random writing #i think he should have a very quiet crisis like the opposite of mazzarò in giovanni verga's short story la roba #mazzarò realizes his constant desire for riches and land and goods meant nothing as hes slowly dying #and his reaction is to try and take everything with him in death. killing his chickens and turkeys and yelling 'come with me my stuff!' #he realizes he has nothing else other than his stuff. no loved ones no good memories #his only thoughts towards his own mother were that it had been a pain to pay for her fueral #volo realizes it young. when he cant remember cogita past her comments and poems. past her knowledge. like she wasnt a person but a book #and he tries to throw himself into his search but it feels empty under the desperation #and when he gets what he wants it feels like nothing. it should have been everything but it isnt. and he wasted himself for it. #cynthia looks at his dead body and realizes he wont tell her stories anymore and she feels the dread of his words #telling her not to let the past and the searching eat her alive #and she missed his true last words because she was inspecting ruins. #maybe if she had been there she could have called an ambulance #and she thinks to herself: dear god. i will die too eventually. #and so she throws herself in the arms of human connection #makes friends makes colleagues encourages children keeps conferences breaks her familys hiding from the world because dear god #she doesnt want to die alone #anyways how are you doing

[neopuppy]

Truth or Dare

a little more of this

warnings. dubcon, unprotected sex, degradation, he’s just too big, and ofc….. mean Jeno😮‍💨

———————————————-

This is stupid.

It’s the same crowd of people, same terrible flat drinks, same uncomfortable beanbag chair you’ve sat on nearly every weekend this summer.

But what’s more stupid is Chenle suggesting you all play truth or dare.

“You can’t be serious..” you mutter under your breath, turning away to roll your eyes.

“What?” Jaemin leans down from the couch beside you, eyebrows bouncing curiously. “Afraid you’ll have to choose dare and confess that Jeno’s dick was too big for you to take?”

“That never happened.” You snap back, shoving his shoulder away the more he nears. “Asshole.”

His smile widens, eyes close until they disappear before he turns to face all of your friends and claps obnoxiously loud. “Let’s play! I’ll go first, I choose truth!”

Chenle snorts, pointing the empty bottle in his hold at the older. “Okay, weirdo. When’s the last time you posted yourself jerking off in a mask on Twitter?”

Jaemin pauses, quietly snickering at the round of gasps that sound before he can answer. “You little prick..” he sighs, shrugging. “I don’t know, probably like, a week ago, or last night. Whatever.”

‘What?!’

‘Oh my god, what's his user?’

‘Wait, a ski mask?’

He laughs, flipping Chenle off and ignoring the slew of questions. “Okay, I get to ask now!”

Meeting eyes with everyone in the room, he takes a deep breath and turns to face you extra slowly, head tilted to the side with a suspicious smile. “Truth or dare?”

“Oh, uh, I’m not playing.”

“Boooo!” Haechan shouts, throwing a pillow at your head. “Don’t be lame!”

“Ugh! This is lame!” You retort, chucking it back at his face.

“Come onnnnn,” Jaemin presses on, reaching to pinch your arm. “Hurry up.”

The look on his face lets you know he’s not going to drop this Jeno thing, probably dying for you to choose truth and further humiliate you.

“Fine.” You say confidently. “Dare.”

“Excellent.” Jaemin gets up and plops himself down on the beanbag next to you, squishing your hips together. “I dare you to—“

Covering his lips, he leans in to whisper in your ear, chuckling as he finishes and moves back. “And if you don’t, truth is always an option.”

He knows the hidden threat is more than enough to keep you trapped in a tight place, licking across his teeth pleased by your silence.

The game drags on, most forgetting about your dare between shared kisses and scandalous confessions. Jaemin nudges your shoulder, nodding to the corner where Jisung stands nursing a cup all by himself. “Do it.”

It’d be easy enough to pull this off without causing any problems if only Jeno wasn’t 5 feet away spitting game, cornering some girl you don’t recognize. Nervously you make your way over to the table Jisung’s nearby, pretending to search for something to drink.

“Hmm,” you sigh, taking interest in the cup wrapped in his hold. “What’re you drinking?”

His mouth pops open surprised, finger lifting to point at himself before taking a quick glance around in realization that you could only be asking him. “Oh.. it’s just cola.”

Snatching up a clear bottle, you move to his side and lift it up higher. “Have you ever tried mixing it with rum? I hear it’s pretty good.”

He swallows, shaking his head and biting down on his lip. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Oh really?” Stealing a look to your side you can feel your chest tighten when you catch Jaemin’s taunting gaze, nodding for you to continue. “Honestly, me neither. These get-togethers get real boring if you’re not inebriated in some way though.” Siddling up to Jisung’s side you grip the bottle firmly with both hands, holding the end between your ribs to rub circles around it’s smooth curves.

Jisung’s eyes bounce around from your chest to the motion you build up around the bottle, lips pursed together. “Yeah, I kind of just hang out until Haechan’s ready to leave..”

“Do you wanna leave now?” You suggest, stroking up and down the bottle faster. “We can leave together.”

Gulping uncomfortably he waves a hand to dismiss your advances, nervously laughing. “Ah, I don’t think I should..”

“Why not?” Speaking up, you move in closer, peering from the corner of your eye to make sure Jeno’s paying attention. The girl standing before him long forgotten as he observes. “You know, there’s rumors about you..”

“There is?!” Jisung reacts vocally enough for a few heads to turn, shaking them off with a laugh before clearing his throat to whisper. “Rumors? About me?”

“Yeah..” slowly shifting your gaze Jeno’s way, you slide up against Jisung’s chest, tapping to bottle between his pecs and smoothing your free hand down his abdomen. “A lot of girls have been talking around the skatepark.”

Jeno stiffens up, standing more alert, brushing away the girl's hands that reach for his shoulders.

Jisung’s chest rises and falls faster, drawing in short breaths. “About me?? Talking about me??”

“They’re saying..” you make sure to speak clearly, tracing around his navel through his thin shirt before going lower to brush your palm across his covered groin. “That you have the fattest cock..”

Dark sleek eyes go wide, stepping forward with tight lips and rounded shoulders. “Even bigger than Jeno.”

“What?!”

“What did you just say?!”

Jisung and Jeno react with a mix of utter confusion and rage coming from different ends. The older ripping you away with a viscous grip around your arm before you can get a good squeeze on the growing erection under your palm. Dragging you to the staircase, he shoves your back to the wall right where no one can see you anymore; swooping in close to barricade you in before you can run back to the room.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He sneers, veins pulsating along his forehead.

“Don’t touch me!” Before you can scream for help, his hand slaps down covering your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeno unbuttons your jeans, maneuvering fast to keep you in place lodged around his thighs, hand sneaking in to gather your underwear. “You just can’t keep my fucking name out of your mouth, can you?”

The force he uses to trap you has your heart beating out of your chest, whimpering under his hand, scratching at his arms. “That taste got you obsessed,” he grins, nose digging into yours. “So desperate for more? Practically begging for me to break that pretty pussy apart.”

Jaemin dared you to rile Jeno up, not anticipating that pissing him off would lead to this. He manages to get your pants and underwear down past your knees, shoving three fingers inside of your mouth to keep your screams muffled.

“You can scream,” he hums, deep and raspy. “If you want everyone to know the truth, that my dicks too big for you. I know you didn’t get a good look last time..” he tugs himself out effortlessly, more than used to fucking anywhere, anytime, given any circumstance.

Pressing down on your tongue, he forces your gaze down, eyes going wide when you finally see it. The head gleams, throbbing a deep flush of pink leading up to a thick shaft lined in varying hues of green and blue. Vine-like veins wrap around his girth, trailing up to pale long fingers struggling to grip around the base; tattoos painted up his forearm rippling as he shifts closer and prods the tip against your slit. “Let’s see if you’ll keep going around making up lies about me now.”

Gliding his fingers free, he smears the mess of spit off on your chin, pulling on your bottom lip and releasing it to bounce back. “Look at all that fucking desperation in your eyes, you’re nothing but a pathetic cock hungry slut” He hisses, pushing against your entrance met with resistance the more he tries to probe.

“God you’re so tight,” Jeno grunts between gritted teeth, gripping firmly around the base of his length struggling to enter you more than halfway. “All this shit you talk and you’re tighter than a fucking virgin.”

“Your dicks just too big and useless!” His eyes snap open, lip trembling.

“You’re really fucked in that head huh,” Jeno chuckles under his breath. “Come here, I’m done playing nice with you.”

Twisting your hips around, he plants down on the stairs, sitting back on one of the steps and setting you on his lap. “Just for that, I’m going to make it hurt.”

Trying to get away is useless, met with his heavy palm wrapped around the front of your throat as he lurches your body back, keeping your back flush to his chest. “Don’t fucking bother, I know you want it.” He tuts, guiding his length back between your thighs, the fat tip pushing against your bundle of nerves. “Don’t you? Don’t you want it?”

Adding to your humiliation, Jeno slaps his heavy meat against your core, the clap of flesh colliding with your wet heat resonates; muddling the whispers that follow from the room. “Let them all know how bad you went this dick.”

“Fuck you Jeno!”

“Oh you will,” tightening around your neck, he bites down on your jaw, sweeping up and down through your slicked folds. “And everyone will know what a little lying whore you are.”

Pressing against your entrance again, he applies more pressure until your hole finally stretches enough to let him in. The scream you try to let out gets choked down, kept firmly in place despite writhing and kicking your legs out. “You're too big! Sl-slow down!”

Jeno ignores your cries, taking a hold of your hip to push you down the rest of the way until he’s balls deep, neck flexed and groaning through clenched teeth. “Fuck you’re so small.”

“N-no, too big,” scrambling to grab onto his thighs and push away, you brush against the bulge under your navel, expelling a moan from both of your lips. “You’re so deep.”

“What was that?” He rasps, biting your cheek, huffing breathily. “Let them hear you.”

“So full, so s-so full,” releasing your neck, he manhandles around your waist, pulling your hips up until nothing but the tip remains inside of you.

“Too big for even a slut like you.”

The sound of your ass landing down on his hips echoes into the room, pausing everyone's actions to listen in, quickly catching on to the two of you missing.

Jaemin smirks, pointing over his shoulder toward the staircase. “Games over.”

#nct hard hours #nct dream hard hours #jeno smut #nct smut #jeno hard hours

[meowsgirldrawing]

Angst idea Obey Nightbringer running through my head

Part 2 here

So MC was dropped from the sky basically right? Mammon caught then and promptly asked them for payment once they woke up, like the sweet man he is-

I love the theory that MC just disappeared then from the present.

Cause I see this-

Imagine a typical morning in Devildom. The day is calm as it could be- AS IT COULD BE- and the brothers are all slowly trickling into the dinning room for breakfast. One of them is the cook today, probably Mammon, and hes making some nice meal he knows is MC's favorite.

When its served, he going along, ignoring the accusations and teases from his brothers, but as hes about to plop into his own seat, hungry for some rare human food- Lucifer stops him. All of them.

Hes looking around, a furrow in his brow, "Where's MC?"

Thats when the empty seat next to a slightly more awake Belphie and for-once-pausing-in-his-breakfast Beel gets brought to light. Usually MC picks whereever they want to sit for the meals on their own, typically being one of the first ones there. But they're obviously not around.

Lucifer sighs, then orders Mammon to go grab them. Sleepy little human, is a phrase Belphie snickers at.

For once, Mammon isnt grumbling about the order, he estactic actually! He gets to see MC's light up face at their favorite dish! Made by him!

Of course, he masks a grumble, but hes all smiles on the way to their room.

As per tradition, he marches right in, esclaiming loud and proud about his success of making a typical weirdo human dish for his hum-

His human?

He stops in his tracks. MC isnt there. Their sheets are ruffled. Their uniform is still hung high on the closet door, and their bags and everything else they grab for the day is laying about. Never been touched.

Huh.

Imagine Mammon coming back with confusion, saying how MC isnt in their room.

Imagine after his explanation, they get too antsy to finish breakfast, they just get up to search for them. They tried messaging at first. Even calling. But they quickly found their phone lying under the sheets, still on charge. The constant ringing sending them on edge.

Beel is texting Luke and Simeon, but they have no clue whats going on. No, they haven't seen MC since their last cooking class yesterday.

Diavolo gets back to Lucifer with obvious worry in his text. MC said they were going straight home after the counsel meeting, though.

Barbatos repeats the same.

Asmodeus tries to message Soloman, his hands trying not to shake as he follows Satan and Levi around the house, both calling MC's name. All 3 growing more anxious and unsettled as they get no response.

But Soloman doesnt even respond.

Mammon? The first one to discover MC's disappearance? Hes on the verge of freaking out.

He keeps up his bite in his tone "OI HUMAN! Where the hell are ya!" Hes going from room to room like the rest of the brothers "YOU BETTER FREAKING RESPOND! O-or-.." His voice starts cracking. Every second he doesnt see his human feels even worse than the last, "MC! F-FOR FUCKS SAKE- RESPOND DAMN IT!" His arms burn with the constant throwing open doors, the moving of furniture. Where the fuck are they??

Once the house has been checked once. Twice. Lucifer even checking Cerberous's lurking grounds, silently hoping to not find any remains possible. The dog's 3 heads stares at his master confused though the whole thing, watching with silent ponder over Lucifer making rounds and rounds about the lot, calling for the human that helps with his monthly cleaning and daily treat giving.

The search continues out, all 7 demon brothers joined by the worried king and his butler, the two angels, as well as a few of their other demons, and Reaper.

All day and into the night they search, all desperate to not find out the worse of worse fates of the human.

The first night is hard. Lucifer had to call of the search for the night, allow himself and his brothers to rest from running all over Devildom. Diavolo sends his well wishes as he does the same, with the plan for first thing to send out better search options.

The brothers hudle in one of the main living rooms. They cant stop talking about it all, where could they be? Does someone have them?? Are they even safe??

Theres a moment where Mammon spits out a curse, hopping back up with a growl, and claiming to go back out again.

Lucifer can see his weariness and orders him to sit back down. His younger brother snarls back a retort, hellbent on finding their human. Maybe even socking whoever has them into the ground if he finds even a single glimpse of that idea.

The agrument goes back and forth, most of the brothers watching in either fury, worriedness, dread, or all. The argument only gets stopped in its tracks when a knock comes that the entrance.

Before Lucifer or any of his brother utter a single word, Mammon is booking it to the door. He tosses it open, expecting- no- hoping on every last grim its Lamentation's only human resident coming home.

But its not that.

Soloman stands alone at the door. His arms tight behind his back, expression stretched as if his words burn his mouth.

"I know where MC is."

-this turned out longer than I wanted, but I kinda plan to write this fully and in more detail. Just beta version y'know?

#obey me imagines #obey me nightbringer #obey me angst #Obey me Nightbringer angst #oc x canon #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

[iidgm]

a little something i wrote at 1 am

word count: 1065

—

You sighed heavily, your limbs giving out under you without prior warning.

These chases are exhausting you, and you have no idea for how much longer you’ll be able to keep up with these toys without dying in the process.

Not like you stayed dead, anyways.

Strange voices in your mind ordering you to get up, and somehow waking up moments before your death… You’ve learned to not question it. At least not for now.

You check your surroundings carefully, trying your best to keep your heavy breathing as silent as possible as to not attract any more toys.

Dried pool, giant rubber ducks…

Ominous looking cell doors.

Ah shit, those are the only way forward, aren’t they?

You groan as you lift yourself up with your fists, your GrabPack feeling more like a hindrance than a helping tool at the moment. Damn designers.

You drag your heavy legs towards the cell doors, dread creeping up your spine.

Why are there CELLS on the POOL?!

You enter a dimly candle-lit corridor with a huge hole in a corner. You decide to not approach it, instead you keep going forward.

The putrid, rotting flesh and gore assaults your senses. The smell being unbearable, the sounds it made against your shoes as you walked disgusted you and the dried remains visible made your stomach churn.

But the only way is forward.

You look into the each cell individually, searching for something to help you open the doors at the end of the corridor—

“You… You’re Poppy’s Angel. Come to save us!”

You jump at the sudden deep voice behind you, turning around in panic with flare gun ready to shoot. Then you see it.

See him.

Dogday.

“Nothing left to save, not here…” He continues. “You’re in Catnap’s home, Angel. Their home.”

You try to swallow back the lump in your throat.

Or what’s left of Dogday.

His bottom half is ripped off, only a tight belt acting as a tourniquet preventing his insides to spill out completely. You want to throw up.

“A million pairs of eyes are on you now. Watching, waiting, hungry.” He sounds so defeated. “They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin– And eat away at you bit by little bit, fill what feels empty inside themselves.”

Your body moves without your input towards the canine, slowly as to not startle or scare him. Not like anything would achieve that at this point, you think.

“That... thing... CatNap. The Prototype is his God, and this is what he does to heretics.” He moves his arms, secured by shackles to emphasize this. “These little toys follow CatNap to avoid that very fate– and in return, they are fed.”

Your hands slowly move towards Dogday’s face. He doesn’t react.

“We tried to fight it, The Prototype's control.” He takes a deep breath. “I'm... the last of the Smiling Critters.” His voice shakes a little, looking away from you. Your heart breaks further for him.

“I–” You try to start, but he interrupts you.

“Listen to me, you need to get out of this place. You need to live!” He looks at you, his dark voids for eyes locking on your face. His voice cracks again, but he sounds determined. You make up your mind in that second.

“I’m not leaving without you.” You say firmly, before working your way through his shackles as fast as you can. He makes a sound of shock as his arm drops, followed by the other. He falls into your arms, limp and dirty.

“Wh– Angel, I’m a lost cause! You must flee!” He pleads, his hand closing around your forearm with the little strength he has.

“I’m sick and tired of people telling me who I can and cannot save. So strap in, Doggy boy, I’m getting you out of here.” You say with finality, shifting him on your back in a way he can hold himself up somewhat comfortably.

He doesn’t protest any further.

You look around, trying to find a way out of the cellar. The doors you came through somehow closed, so that option is discarded.

“Oh no... OH NO!” You hear Dogday cry out, and you turn your head to see what he’s on about.

Oh shit.

A mass of ruined critters start to crawl their way out of the walls towards you. Before you can react, the floor gives in beneath you, falling through a hole in front of the closed gates.

“Hold on tight!” You warn before running your way through the narrow foam tunnels. Your flare gun manages to scare the little toys that come across your away and gives you a dim light source in the abyssal darkness the Playground was.

You slide down one of the three slides you are offered, and keep running as you can.

And then you see it.

A platform to the surface.

You only have to make a purple hand jump to get there.

The GrabPack was made for only one person, though. Would you be able to make it?

Only one way to find out.

“Be ready!” You shout as you run at full speed, gaining momentum.

'Wait— nononO ANGEL WAIT—' You hear him yell in a panicked tone, but you don't slow down.

With a leap of faith, you press the pressure plate with the purple hand and the world slows down.

For a second, you’re suspended in the air with Dogday’s arms around you firmly, and on the next, you and your companion crash on the platform so hard it knocks the air out of both of you.

You quickly press the button for it to go up before collapsing. Seems like Dogday had let go of you once he saw you’d make it.

You pant in exhaustion, the adrenaline washing off now that you’re somewhat safe. The back of your hand rests on your forehead, your eyes closed to prevent the artificial light from entering your retinas.

You did it.

You hear a deep, husky laugh not far away from you, and you laugh along with him.

You did it!

You managed to save someone!

You two laugh together in a manic manner as the platform lifts you two to the surface level of Playcare.

You’d think what to tell the others once you’re there. For now, you’ll enjoy this short moment of bliss with your new friend.

#.eiden writes. #dogday #smiling critters dogday #dogday x reader #dogday x y/n #poppy playtime dogday #poppy playtime #smiling critters #poppy playtime x reader #x reader #smth smth no proof we die like canon dd

[paper-crab]

Obvious

summary: chris realizes he’s in love

warnings: none? pretty chill and straightforward

wc:1463

i kinda like this one… maybe?

“It’s obvious you like her.” Matt shrugs, throwing another fry into his mouth.

“Was that even a question?” Nick chimes in. Chris is sitting in the front seat, bewildered. “Of course that’s a question? What do you mean?”

“Well, like, we all know. Madi asked me if you were dating the first time we all hung out together. There are literal hearts in your eyes when you look at her.” Nick tells him. Every word that comes out of his brothers’ mouths shocks him. His jaw hangs open. “You’re cutting this out of the video right?”

“Yeah.”

“You guys are crazy.” Chris shakes his head.

“We’ll talk about this later. We only have so much time to film this video, so let’s get on with it.” Matt says, rolling his eyes as he reaches for his drink that Chris took.

He tried to push the revelation out of his mind, but couldn’t: it was obvious to the audience that he was distracted for the remainder of the video.

‘What did they say to him during the cut?’ comments started flying in- and the worst part? They didn’t even talk about it later, leaving Chris to ponder on his own. He’s stuck tossing and turning the entire night, comparing your relationship to his and Madi’s. He knew something was different, he just couldn’t figure out quite what.

The sun had risen before he realized what was different; the lingering touches, the secrets, the inside jokes. Most of all, he realized, was the difference he felt when he was with you.

The love he felt around you was warmer, more invigorating. He couldn’t get a single word out of Matt or Nick about the situation for the entire day; especially anything having to do with your feelings for him, but he tried to push it out of his mind.

He was stuck in the same position late that night, tossing and turning as he tried to ease his worried conscience.

chris: wyd?

you: nothing, mcdonald’s?

chris: yes pls

you: be there in 5

He smiled at his phone, throwing on a hoodie and some crocs. When he heard another ding from his phone, he rushed out the front door. He felt excited, knowing he was spending time with you, but the words of his brothers from the previous day loomed over him like a dark cloud.

“Hey,” You grin at him, shutting off your phone. “You hungry?”

“Always.” He says, reciprocating your smile and hopping into the passenger seat.

As the car pulled away, he found himself slipping into easy conversation with you. Your laughter filled the air, and the sound of it eased the tension that had been clinging to his thoughts since morning.

He was lost in the comfort of your company, the weight of his brother's words gradually disappearing from his head. There was something about being around you that made everything else seem trivial- at least for the moment.

You settle into a random -empty- parking lot after getting your orders. When you were staring at him instead of the road, he found it a lot more difficult to keep his composure. The air between you thickened as Chris tried to break your gaze away from him.

“What’s on your mind, Chris?”

He looks like a deer caught in headlights. Chris was caught off guard by your perception. He should have known you’d pick up on it quickly, spending almost all of your time with each other had a way of doing that to you.

“Nothing.” He says, willing his thoughts to disappear.

“C’mon, I know you better than that. Just tell me.”

Chris instantly gets lost in his unspoken thoughts. He’s unsure of how to respond to you without worrying you. You brush his hand reaching for your drink, and under the pressure of your expectant eyes, he shivers. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He forces out, “Just tired I guess.”

Your eyes search his. “Don’t lie to me,”

The intensity in your voice made Chris pause. He felt the weight of your understanding, the depth of your concern, and the strength of your connection in those simple words.

“It’s just…” Chris started, voice trailing off as fear overtook his senses. You waited patiently though, comforting him. “There’s a girl.”

You felt your heart drop, but instantly disguised it, for his sake. “Tell me more.”

“She’s someone I’ve known for a while,” Chris began, choosing his words carefully. “But things have been… different lately. I’ve been realizing the way I feel around her is different from anyone else.”

Your expression softened, pain still panging through your heart. You encouraged him to continue with a nod.

“I’ve been trying to deny it, and ignore my feelings, but being around her is like a breath of fresh air. All my worries just melt away, everything falls into place. I don’t know what to do about it.” He admits, voice tinged with vulnerability.

“Sounds like you care about her a lot.” Chris nods, a smile taking the place of his previously worried expression.

“I really do.”

“Have you thought about telling her?”

Chris's eyes widened, but he nodded slowly. “A ton. I’m just scared of messing things up. I care about her a lot, and I can't lose that.”

You glimpse at him, trying to show that you’re listening. “Chris, what’s going to happen if you tell her? Realistically.”

Chris sighed, contemplating your question.

“I guess, if I tell her… things could change,” he began slowly, uncertainty evident in his words. “We could grow closer, or grow apart. And I’m afraid of losing what we have right now.”

His eyes shifted to yours. Unknowingly, he was looking for your reassurance, like he did with most things. “But on the other hand,” you continue for him, “if you don’t say anything, you might regret not taking the chance to tell her how much she means to you.” He nods, agreeing with your assessment of the situation. “Exactly.”

“It’s a tough spot to be in,” you comment softly, voice reflecting empathy “but you know this girl best. Trust your instincts.”

You were always his voice of reason; his flashlight in the darkness. He glanced out the car window, lost in thought for a moment. Your words settled in nicely, but he still felt a little self-doubt.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime. Ready to go?”

“Yeah, if you are.”

He’s grateful to have you on his side. Even if his impending confession changes your relationship for the worst, he’s decided to take that leap of faith; he just isn’t sure when.

For the next few days, Chris found himself caught in a whirlwind of contemplation. Every moment with you seemed laden with unspoken words, his thoughts constantly drifting back to the conversation you had in the car. Everytime he was with you, the profession of his love lingered on his tongue. He needed to bite the bullet and do it, but he needed the support of his brothers to finally get him there.

“I think I’m gonna tell her.” He tells them, right before they begin filming a vlog.

“Are you serious? Why do you always bring this shit up when we’re gonna film.” Matt rolls his eyes, trying not to smack his brother.

“I’m serious, like I wanna text her right now serious.”

“Don’t text her, that’s just bad manners.” Nick tells him, setting up the camera.

“Fuck you mean manners? What does this have to do with manners?”

“Just wait till after we film.” Nick sighs.

Chris was struggling to focus for the entire vlog, which wasn’t really new. He’d always been a bit jumpy and high maintenance, but now he had a reason. When Nick deemed their filming to be finished, Chris was roaring to go.

“Guys, I seriously can't hold it back anymore. I need to go do this.”

“Alright, man, we got your back.” Matt reassured him.

Nick chimed in, trying to ease a little bit of Chris’s worries. “But seriously, maybe don’t do it in a text. A face-to-face conversation will be better.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m texting her to come get me now.”

“Come get you? Kid, why wouldn’t I just drive you?”

“This is more… us.” Chris replies, sending the message. A rush of nerves swept through him when he hit send.

you: omw

He smiled at his phone. “Hey, whatever happens, we’re here for you.” Matt tells him, trying to ease some of his anxieties.

“Thanks guys. She’s here.” He says, sliding on some shoes.

“Let us know how it goes.”

When Chris comes back, you in tow, with kiss swollen lips and a dazed smile, they have their answer.

“Went great guys, we’re pretty tired so we’re gonna head. Night!” Chris yelled, already pulling you down the stairs to his room.

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo

[runninriot]

written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Day 10

prompt: first kiss | rated: T | cw: underage drinking | tags: Robin, Steve & Eddie are friends, confessions, coming out

“What d’you mean you never had your first kiss?”

Oops. Did he say that out loud? Shit. Eddie knew he should’ve gone easy on the rum. But they’ve been running around town all afternoon to buy Christmas presents for the kids and when they finally made their way back to Steve’s, the idea of having some rum-spiked hot cocoa to warm them up from the inside sounded great. And it was - up until now.

Now, he’s being reminded of the fact that alcohol loosens his tongue, makes him say things he usually would keep to himself.

“Uh, yeah? It’s no big deal.” Eddie tries to play it down, tries to ignore the heat spreading uncomfortably in his cheeks.

“No. Hold up. Eddie, are you really telling me you’ve never kissed anyone? Not once?” Steve’s eyes are huge and Eddie searches for mockery in them, finds only honest confusion.

“Well, Steve. Not everyone starts their slutty era as young as you did,” Robin defends him. Maybe because she can sense how embarrassed Eddie feels. Maybe because she knows something about him that Steve doesn’t.

“Yeah yeah, I know. Keep making fun of me but- I can’t believe it, Eddie. You’re 19 and no one has ever been worthy enough for you to kiss them?”

The way he phrases it makes Eddie’s insides twist into a knot, makes his heart flutter at the notion of Steve actually thinking anyone had ever wanted to kiss him.

Because the truth is that no one has.

“What can I say? Maybe I’m just waiting for the right one.” Eddie laughs, makes it sound like a silly joke to hide the fact that in another universe, the right one would be sitting right next to him. Not in this life, though. He’ll never know what Steve’s lips taste like.

“I’d rather not had my first kiss at all than the one I got. Middle school, Jackson Hughes. Planted one right on me, wet and sloppy. Ugh, guess that’s when I knew I don’t like boys.”

Steve shoots her an alarmed look.

“It’s okay, Steve. He knows,” Robin answers his silent question, obviously referring to Eddie knowing about her being a lesbian.

“Oh. G-good. That’s good.”

“Takes one to know one.” Eddie chokes on a laugh.

FUCK!

Did he really just out himself in front of Steve?

As if his earlier confession hadn’t been enough to throw him off, the look on Steve’s face now is even worse. Not like- he doesn’t look disgusted or anything. More like, surprised. His facial expressions going from confused to… soft? So soft in fact, that Eddie suddenly has a hard time breathing.

“Oookay. That was awkward. Moving on. Who wants another?” Eddie quickly jumps up from the sofa, waving his empty cup at the others, not even waiting for their response before he makes his way to the kitchen.

He needs to do something, needs to get away. Splash some cold water into his face to cool down, sober up. Maybe getting another drink isn’t a good idea, after all.

Eddie braces his hands on the edge of the counter, drops his head down and sighs.

Shitshitshit!

Yeah, nope. He should not get another drink. Not if he doesn’t cut out his own tongue first. He already said too much, already confessed too many things for one evening. What comes next? Telling Steve that he’s hopelessly in love with him?

Over my dead body.

No one needs to know that. Especially not Steve. So, yeah. Definitely no more rum for him. He should probably go home and hide under his blanket until the end of days or at least-

“Eddie?”

He turns around quickly, trying his best to steady himself.

“Are you okay?”

Steve’s eyes are warm and his voice is gentle and Eddie just wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Yeah. Just needed a minute. That was not exactly how I planned on telling you.” Eddie laughs but it sounds strange even to his own ears.

God, you’re pathetic.

The other boy steps closer and Eddie feels like he’s frozen in place. His heart beats like crazy when Steve stops only inches away from him, so close now that Eddie can feel warmth radiating off Steve’s body.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you, too. A-about me.”

Eddie thinks he can feel, hear, and smell the wires in his brain short-circuiting. His mouth drops open, eyes blown wide in disbelief.

What?

“I’m… bi. Apparently.” He shrugs his shoulders and smiles shyly at him.

“Th- that’s. Cool.” Eddie stutters, doesn’t really know what to say when his mind offers nothing he can share.

Steve likes boys? Maybe I have a chance. Maybe he likes me too? Shut up, Munson! He’s so pretty. I want to kiss him so badly...

“And I-“ Steve bites down on his bottom lip as if he’s trying to prevent himself from talking.

“I wanted to tell you for a while that I-“

Eddie knows he’s being delusional but he can’t take it anymore. He needs to know.

“I like you, Steve. A lot. I-“

Steve's whole face lights up and Eddie's head is spinning.

“Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t know how exactly it happens or who starts it but somehow he finds himself glued to Steve’s lips not even a second later - his hands in Steve’s hair, Steve’s hands wrapped around his middle, their bodies pressed against one another so close that he thinks he can feel Steve’s heartbeat in his own chest.

Eddie must’ve died and gone to heaven because he is kissing Steve and Steve is kissing him back and it’s nothing like anything he’s ever felt or tasted before. A tender brush of lips, a hesitant tongue asking silently for permission, Steve’s hot breath on his face, the sweet little noises they both make… it’s like a dream come true.

And yeah. If waiting 19 years got him this - he'd do it all over again.

#steddieholidaydrabbles #day 10 #eddie munson #steve harrington #first kiss

[liplinerloser]

can I request a short sort of angsty fic with Leon Kennedy when he’s in his alcoholic self destruction era? Thank you

☆ Alcoholic Leon Kennedy x reader ☆

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ :

Angst, alcohol abuse, codependency

A lengthy sigh escaped you as you packed the remainder of your daily belongings from your desk and back into your bag, it had been a long day, you practically grimaced at the idea of going home and having an even longer night.

Coming home after work didn’t feel like the welcome respite you were so used to, being greeted at the door by your favourite rookie cop with that dopey smile plastered across his face. You never admitted it but you found it so cute.

It was nice when it was like that, you thought, making your way down the practically barren streets near your home, the only noise that greeted you back was the harsh stamping of your shoes on the pavement. Finally coming face to face with the dull Matte paint of your front door, and after fumbling around with your keys for an eternity, you welcomed yourself into your cold quiet home.

Leon was definitely Home, he finished way before you which he used to use to his advantage to do nice things for you. A smile tugs at your lips remembering when he had attempted to make dinner, key words attempted. Giggling out loud you recall what monstrosity he had concocted in your kitchen. It was burnt to hell, you weren’t even really sure what it was supposed to be.

You tried to be kinder on him despite the nipping snide comments on the edge of your tongue, he had it rough, his job was constantly whittling away at whatever semblance of himself he had left, you knew to be gentle with him.

“Leon? Have you eaten anything? It’s pretty late but I could make something real quick, or order out”, you called, the desperate voice echoing back around the silent house.

Slipping your shoes off and practically throwing your jacket onto the sofa, you wandered around searching for him. He had a tendency to fall asleep wherever he felt tired enough to do so, so maybe he’d just done that again.

The disappointment you felt when you found him was grating. There was your man, hunched over the dining room table, cans of cheap shitty bear and emptied bottles of god knows what surrounded him. You fought back tears as you approached him, a familiar ache present in your chest.

“Leon. Get up, please.”, despite the fact you tried to sound harsh your voice faltered, as you bit back tears. Gently you approached his side, nudging him in an attempt to wake him, not even an acknowledging sigh.

He had done this so many times, drank himself dumb then looked at you like you were the problem. But you wanted a life with him, you kept holding onto that person he was before. God you missed him, this wasn’t him.

“Leon, I’m being serious.”, there was a grit to your voice, you swallowed the pit lodged in your throat and approached him, prodding his stiff shoulder, eliciting only a groan in response, frustrating you further

You tutted, as if dealing with an insolent child and not your alcoholic fiancé who refused to sober up. muttering an onslaught of phrases under your breath, you cleaned his mess, binned the bottles and the cans, wiped the table down.

As you cleaned the remnants of his mess you couldn’t help a small part of your brain glance at him, quietly begging him to come back. To say everything was fine now, and for him to love you the way he used to.

“What’re you doing…some of those were half full.”, he grumbled back with his sleep rasped voice. You gritted your teeth in response, ‘I clean up after him and I tolerate him and all he can be bothered to ask is why I got rid of his precious alcohol.’, you’d never say that to him. You loved him too much. He deserved patience with what he had been through.

In his drunken stupor he attempted To stand, wobbling like a baby deer, he tried to steel himself but to no avail. He had fallen to the floor with a thud, sat motionless. You could hardly make out the expression on his face, anger? Or maybe sadness?

It was as if something had snapped for you.

You practically choked upon seeing fat tears pouring down his cheeks, not only was he wasting his life away on a drink but he had the gaul to cry over it. It was unbelievable, he’d rather cry over something he could buy again than even try to fix your relationship, or fix himself.

These thoughts had completely worked you up, a familiar lump forming in your throat as you struggled to bite back tears. You just mustn’t have been worth it to him. You forced your head back awkwardly, preventing tears from falling, inhaling breathes like you were on the verge of death. you couldn’t cry in front of him, and show him how he had hurt you? Never.

All you wanted to do was go to him, wrap your arms around his soft hair, press his head into the crook of your neck and rock him, soothe him. But it felt as thought he didn’t want you anymore, he would rather loathe in self pity and wallow than even talk to you about his problems.

It felt as though you had been stabbed with a blunt knife, the man you devoted your life to was crying over alcohol and not the sullen shape of his partner before him.

You dialed the first number on your phone, Claire, you had to get away from this fucking house, from this man. Or this sickly guilt in your stomach would eat you alive.

“Hi Claire, I’m so sorry I know it’s late.. please, please can you pick me up, I’ll explain later-“, pursing your lips as you spoke as to not let the barrage of tears drown your cheeks. You looked back at him, he stared only at the floor, and at his own hands.

He didn’t deserve an explanation, the build up was long enough, he should’ve realised he couldn’t expect you to stick around in a loveless relationship.

Swallowing your tears you turned on your heel, swiftly grabbing whatever belongings you needed for the night before slamming the front door with a graceless thud.

You had left him alone.

He was practically gasping for breath, suffocating from the weight of his sins and his inability to express them to you. His lips pursed as his chin trembled, he felt truly weak.

You had assumed his tears were shallow, crying over spilt beer, in reality as he peered up at you from the floor he had understood what he had become. He mourned for you, what he had put you through.

Sobs racked Leon’s chest harder than any bullet on any of his past missions ever could, each cry echoing off his ribs into the empty chasm of his hollow body.

He tried again to get up, he wanted to pursue you, hold you, apologise to you a million times over. If only he hadn’t drank so much. Leon’s legs couldn’t support him, he tried desperately to crawl to the front door, gasping for breath in a panic.

He was going to lose you. You were going to leave.

You didn’t even turn back to him.

Pausing, he had finally realised these were the consequences. His muscular forearms propped him up on the wooden floor but his vision was becoming hazy, staring at the heavy door, waiting for it to open, for him to see your welcoming figure come to embrace him. The house felt empty without you.

he loved you with everything he could offer but he was pathetic, incapable of dealing with emotional plight, immature and lashing out. he loved you so fucking much. But that wasn’t enough.

fumbling around desperately he reached into his pocket for his phone, he dialed you like his life depended on it. Maybe you’d turn around and come back. You could play house with him again.

“Call could not be connected, please try again at another time”

“Call could not be connected, please try again at another time”

“Call could not be connected, please try again at another time”

His fingers practically bled with the ferocity he slammed the digits into the phone, bile rose in his throat at the thought that plagued his mind now. He dug crescent shaped wounds into the flesh of his hands out of frustration.

You weren’t coming back.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #claire redfield #relationship #angst

[fluffycalamari]

One Piece Relationship Headcannons Pt. 2!!

Part 1!

Contents: fluffy! A Lil suggestive for Kid

Characters in this part: Law, Kid,

Gender nuetral reader in mind!!

Law

You guys need to understand Law is my no.1 fav in One Piece; I've thought long and hard about him.

Very calm outside of his bed quarters

Like come on he's literally the definition of "affection behind closed doors"

It's the little things that makes him flustered!

Holding hands in public?! Sure he has that deadpanned face on; but MENTALLY! MY BRUVA IS FREAKING OUT.

Behind closed doors he's very vulnerable; he's got a lot of trauma to unpack.

Likes to be the little spoons idc what any of yall say!! It gives him comfort.

He really appreciates when you give him his space.

He also adores it when you're stubborn about him taking a break; it helps him to not overwork himself.

The type of boyfriend you can never catch sleeping unless you wake up 5 years before him.

Especially cause I know for a fact that Law is the type to work into the early mornings.

Your stir in your sleep, absent-mindedly searching for your lover. Throwing your arms across the bed, your eyes shoot open when you realize aside from you, it's empty. You force your heavy lids open and face a nearby window. It's dark, now that your senses are flooding in you hear scribbling. Through static vision you see Law hunched on his desk, going over and revising what you're assuming to be the agenda for the next island you guys were heading. "..Law, why the hell are you still awake?" Your voice is groggy; pulling yourself off the bed you approach him. "[Name]-ya, listen.." he yawns, inked hands covering his mouth to be polite. "I need to finish this before we get to the island." Law's voice is just as groggy as yours. "My guy," You state, grabbing his arm. "We're going the fuck to sleep, how are we gonna execute a plan if you're not in top shape?" Dragging him to the bed "i-" "I nothing Law, bed now," as you push him onto the bed; you join him, wrapping your arms around him. As you drifted back into your slumber you hear law mutter under his breath "I love you [name] ya". You don't even have the energy to say it back, so you hum the phrase in response.

Eustass Kidd

Where do I even start with this red headed slut.

I love kid, you love kid, we all love kid

He doesn't know how to express his feelings for you so it always comes out the best way he can...Aggressive.

You love that shit though cause why would you be with him otherwise!!!

Kid buys you flowers; he's lying right through his fucking teeth about how you were bitchin and moanin because you wanted these flowers so bad. While blushing his goofy ass blush.

(You just glanced at them while walking through the city with kid)

HE LEAVES LIPSTICK STAINS ON YOUR FACE IDC IDC IDC I DONT CAAAREEEEE!!!

Now this might be rinse and repeat but I don't care

He's nicer behind close doors, he can get vulnerable with you because he knows you won't utter a word to another soul.

Don't get me wrong he's still agressive/dominant; this is kid we're talking about. But he's still a human being so being able to express himself freely is nice.

This man is bold, gets jealous, and literally needs the world you two are together so other pirates won't try anything.

Will slap your ass whenever he pleases; you get him back too cause wtf not!

Like this man will full on make-out with you if someone tries to flirt with you.

You're in public with kid on a lil stroll, sanji is being sanji and he rushes towards you nose bleeding, calling you a bunch of pet names like "beautiful, darling, sweetheart!!" You look up at Kid as Sanji is literally on his hands and knees asking you to be his partner. "Sorry sanji, I'm not really interested in-" you're cut off by Kid, he grabs you by the collar of your shirt pulling you into a sloppy kiss. His tounge being shoved down your throat as you finally get into thw motions; throwing your arms around his neck, tounges intertwining while attempting to close the non existent gap between you both. Breaking away from the kiss, Kid smirks at sanji, "They're with me."

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #eustass kid #eustass x reader #eustasscaptainkid #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #head cannon #headcannons #relationship headcanons #gender neutral reader #gender nuetral

[upsidedownwithsteve]

emmy!! if you’re still taking requests i have one for cockwarming with steve <33 maybe post upside down chaos and you just need to be close to him. you astound me every time!!

18+

It happened every time the world fell apart. When monsters crawled out from under the earth, when one or both of you got hurt, when Steve did something stupid and heroic like throw himself in between you and danger. You’d follow him back to his big, empty home, both of you stumbling and leaning on the verge of being too tired.

But then something you would happen when you met Steve’s gaze and you were on him when you saw it was as hungry as your own. Clothes would be shed, buttons popping, shirts ripped, hair pulled and skin bitten, ‘cause it was nice to feel that you were alive, that the person you loved most in the world was still there and able to be touched.

It was usually frantic, rushed, all moans and groans and kisses with teeth, scraped skin and bruises that would show in the morning, both of you burning up and simmering over with adrenaline, the absolute elation and shock that you were both still alive.

But this time you both came too close, straying too far to the edge of something going wrong. You’d been thrown to the side, a long arm with longer fingers and sharp nails slashing a little at your waist, head thumped against brick. Steve ran to you, ignorant to the seven foot beast that was still doing it’s best to take down his friends and the result was a vine wrapped around his ankle, body dragging rough over the ground, wet and slick with spilled blood and who knows what.

He remembered fire and then shrieking, horror movie style noises and then Hopper was patching you both up in Steve’s too clean kitchen, bloodied rags a comically bright flash of red in the skin.

Steve followed you up the stairs, bone tired, throat still tight with emotion ‘cause every time he blinked he saw you lying in a heap on the ground. So instead, he kept his gaze on you, watched you turn on the shower until the water was hot enough to sting, steam filling up the room, hazy, sweet smelling. He stared when you stripped, flecks of dirt and grime and dried blood on the floor by your clothes and he winced at the marks on your skin, cleaned by Hopper but still too jarring to look at.

But you leaned in and pushed yourself onto your toes, naked and quiet, all soft for him. A kiss to his grubby cheek, another to the cut on his bottom lip, your nose grazing the line of his jaw in a touch that was agonising in its affection.

You got into the shower, the water turning pink and grey at your feet.

Steve followed. Steve would follow you anywhere.

Neither of you had even begun to wash your hair - too tired and sore to lift your arms - before Steve was on the floor of the shower, back against the wet tiles and you were in his lap. Legs curled around his waist, skin hot and slick, chests pressed together with his cock seated inside of you.

Steve had protested softly at first, despite how he’d been hard the second you’d stripped yourself of your jeans. Told you that you were hurt, it was okay, he didn’t wanna make you even more sore.

But your eyes had turned glassy and you’d clung to him, desperate to get closer, mouth searching for his until you grabbed greedy at his jaw and held him to you, silently asking for what you wanted. What you needed.

Please please please please please please.

The boy hissed when you slid yourself into him, lower and lower until every inch of him was inside of you and the stretch burned more than the water did. You felt full, overwhelmingly so, and Steve’s hands were big and wide, curling around your waist, skimming over your shoulders, your arms, pushing back your wet hair so he could pepper the lightest kind of kisses over your face.

You tried to lift yourself off of him, just to slam back down but it was too much, you were too tired, too achy, your sore sides yelling at you in protest and even rocking your hips felt like a challenge you weren’t ready for. Steve shook his head, thumbed gently over your tear filled eyes and caught your chin in his hold.

“S’okay, baby,” he murmured, barely heard over the pouring of water over the shower floor. “Just stay there for me, I’ve got you. Gonna keep you nice n’ full, yeah? S’what you want?”

You clenched around him at his pretty words, nodding enthusiastically, nose grazing Steve’s as you leaned in for another kiss. Cunt fluttering, Steve’s cock kicked up, nudging sweet spots inside of you and you clung to his shoulders a little tighter.

“M’right here, honey. Feel good, yeah? Fuck, does, doesn’t it? Just need you close, I know, I know.”

Nonsense, barely there sentences, a babble of words under the stream of hot water but it made your heart ache, made the pain in your body a little less intense and all you could focus on was the boy. Big hands soothing over wet thighs, the trickle of water over skin, running down Steve’s neck, over your lips, down the arch of your back.

“Gonna stay here for as long as you need, yeah?” Steve asked you but it sounded like a promise.

He watched you nod, watched your bottom lip tremble again, fear still clutching at you and god, he felt the same. So he pulled you closer, arms wrapped around you as best as he could without causing you more pain and when you were pressed to his chest with your face in the crook of his neck, he fucked his hips up into you, slow rolls that made you cry out.

It was a dirty grind that he kept stopping and starting, his head knocking against the tiles when he paused to look up at you, eyes half lidded and jaw slack with pleasure. And when you tried to move yourself, he held you down on his cock with a heavy hand and a shake of his head, throat bobbing when your cunt tightened around him. He soothed your cries with two fingers in your mouth, pressed to the flat of your tongue, his words soft and sweet.

“You got it, baby, c’mon.” Steve cooed, his free hand rubbing soft circles on your thigh. “Lemme do it, yeah? Don’t hurt yourself, sweet thing, just take it, I’ve got you.”

It went like that until the water ran cool, lukewarm and the steam melted away. It ended with Steve nudging himself up against that soft, spongy spot inside of you, eyes flickering between your fucked our expression and where he was splitting you open. That same slow, filthy rock of his hips and then his thumb on your clit, making you keen, whisper his name with a crack in your voice and then he was spilling inside of you and suddenly everything was a little bit more okay than it had been before.

….

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader smut #steve baby blurb

[wulvercazz]

wrote a thing last night… enjoy ✨

cw // dom/sub undertones, hatefucking, enemies with benefits, light orgasm control

He’s so lost in the size and shape of his dick that it spills right out of him like a song, “Ichigo—“ he chants around a moan. Grimmjow only registers he did when it all stops abruptly; his face burning in shameful anger when his eyes quickly catch a glance of the shinigami’s dumb doe eyes; sparkling with validation. It’s disgusting.

“What the fuck is your problem, Kurosaki— move.” He growls through gritted teeth, the claws on his hands digging through yet another mattress as a sickly feeling begins to burn brighter the longer that idiotic look stays on his face.

“You— you said my name.” He pants out with wonder. Grimmjow can taste the stupid smile even while trying to ignore his face.

“…Move or I’m fucking leaving—“ he tries to buck back, clench, whatever may get the shinigami back into a babbling, growling mess. But that insane power of his to turn any adversity into less than an inconvenience when there’s motivation enough, gets in the way yet again; apparently it’s not just reserved to saving friends.

“I know what I heard.” His voice stops faltering, meeting Grimmjow halfway. “Say it again and I’ll continue.”

“Fuck off—“ he growls out to avoid making any other, more unbecoming, sound. But a half-moan half-complain is rolled right out his ribcage, when Kurosaki’s hands spread right over them, and push up to his shoulder blades. Pressing hard enough to make Grimmjow’s arms start to buckle under him.

Then one hand dares press on his neck, and a real, hollow howl tinged, growl escapes him; but he doesn’t pull away from the shinigami’s grasp just yet.

“Call me by my name or neither gets to finish,” he uses that dark tone of voice that only ever pokes it’s slithery head out when the hollow in him is joining in on the party. Grimmjow’s back shivers all the way down to where he’s stretched around his unmoving dick, jaw clenched tight, stubbornly searching for any other way that he’ll get what he wants without reducing himself to such thing.

“Fine—“ Ichigo pulls back, taking his dick with him; forcing him to feel how serious he is about it. His hands keep Grimmjow unmoving as he pulls out but the very tip, and the arrancar gasps suddenly; the arrancar hates feeling empty, not just in the figurative, hollow, sense; he’s come to realize.

“Haah— I fucking hate you, Ichigo—“ it’s more of a pathetic moan than a growl, edged with distress and want it’s nowhere near threatening. A goofy smile spreads right across Ichigo’s cheeks.

“That wasn’t so hard—“ he teases, pulling on Grimmjow’s body to fuck right back in just as the arrancar’s filling his mouth with insults to throw at him; turns them into needy little moans and a string of incoherent babbling.

“C-come on—“ he pants, “keep saying it—,” moaning just as much with every hurried thrust. “Call my name, Grimmjow.” And his hands grip his hips harder, pulling on his body to meet his thrusts halfway.

Between ragged breaths and spilled out moans, Grimmjow’s eyes flutter closed and from his tongue drips a plea like drool, ‘Ichigo-IchigoIchigo—Ich-g-oIchigo~’

#ichigo kurosaki #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #ichigrimm #一グリ #nsft #smut #subdom #hate fuck #grimmichi #bleach #wulverwrites #bottom!Grimmjow #top!Ichigo

[sfwregressionfanfictions]

Xavier Thorpe x Little! Reader: Visions of Little You

Requested: Xavier has a dream about the reader being little, now he’s testing the water.

She/Her/Hers

w/c: 2416

Xavier had visions in his sleep a lot. It could be when someone was gonna fall, the monster that was in the forest by the school, or just random moments from people. Most of the time, he did not mean to pry into peoples personal lives, honestly, he had a hard time controlling it. However, sometimes he was able to focus on one person or searching for one moment in the future. It was rare for him to succeed, however, sometimes he would spend the night seeing the person he cares for most in the world. 

Xavier was having a rough day, he longed for nothing more than to care for a little one. To have someone need him. He tried to distract himself, however, his mind kept wondering back to what he yearned for. With a huff, Xavier decided to just take a nap, and when he woke up go to dinner with his friends. Today he focused on her, on his (Y/N). 

(Y/N) was the girl he was in love with, his best friend, they toed the line between partners and bestfriends. She was so small, or perhaps it just seemed like it due to the fact he grew over the summer. He liked to imagine one day being able to take care of her, have her cling to him all the time and not just when she was worried about getting lost or nervous about new surroundings. 

Xavier lied flat on his back, closing his eyes and focussing on his girl. Visuallizing how she looked in class, the smell of her shampoo and the sound of her laugh. Soon, he was a sleep and in his vision world. He was standing in (Y/N)’s room, he was near the front door. The room was empty, but the water in the bathroom was running. She had to be showering. 

Xavier wandered around her room looking at pictures, snooping ever so slightly. He looked in the drawers where she kept her snacks and movies primarily, maybe he could surprise her with something she was low on. Soon the bathroom door swung open and (Y/N) came out wearing a pretty little pink skirt (or overalls) and one of his off-white sweaters, it was probably left behind last time he was over watching a movie. He smiled at the sight of her trying to pull up her knee high socks. 

The laughter stopped after she had the pair completely on. (Y/N) quickly bent down under her bed and grabbed an old shoe box. The box was thrown onto her bed, she quickly followed, throwing herself onto the bed that was a little too high off the ground for Xavier’s comfort. He kept telling her that it should be lowered but she kept saying she wanted to make a little cave under her bed, although she still hasn’t.  

Xavier was quickly ripped out of his train of thought at the sight of (Y/N) pulling out a pacifier. He wasn’t shocked, honestly, he saw the signs but assumed he read to far into them. But there she was regressing, by herself. He wanted to stroke her hair and put on cartoons for her or even ask to colour pictures together. Maybe at dinner, she would let him help her eat, or serve her food, or maybe carry her tray. 

The wishes from before came to life with a fury, now aware there was a chance for him to actually care for her the way he hoped he could. He sat on her bed aware she couldn’t hear, see or feel him, he rubbed her back the best he could without being able to actually touch her. Xavier glanced at the clock, excited to end his vision/astoprojecting journey and experience the real world. Dinner would be in 45 minutes, he had to leave and wake up.

Xavier shot up from his bed, tumbling off his bed in a rush to get to the shower and get into his casual clothes. He only paused to text (Y/N) that dinner would be soon and that he would be at her dorm to walk her to dinner. He was met with an “mmmkay”, this was how she relied on days off, now it made sense. She replied like that while regressed.

Xavier must have set a record while getting ready, as he was done in lightening speed. He was stood out side of (Y/N)’s door, knocking lightly as to not spook them. There was rusttling and the sound of stuff being thrown around, she must be hiding her regression stuff.

The door slowly cracked open, to expose a doe-eyed (Y/N). She had wide eyes, and slightly chapped lips. Her voice was small and slightly whiny, “What are you doing here?”

“Here to pick my favorite person up for dinner, bet you must be super hungry.” Xavier said with a reassuring smile. 

“Oh,” She sounded like she had just remember, “i gotta get ready…”

She left the door open as she walked back into the room moving to slide her feet into her shoes, and grab her phone. Xavier closed the door as he entered, “Xavi, can’t find my chapstick.”

He turned to see his best friend with misty eyes, obviously on the cusp of slipping or having a melt down. She probably felt bad for holding him up. “That’s okay, I have one for you. How about we tie your shoes and get your belly full?”

With a nod, (Y/N) started to fumble with her laces. She was closer to slipping back into littlespace than her thought. He quickly swooped in when she started to become more frantic. “It’s okay. Here is the tree and here is the bunny. The bunny runs around the tree and dives into its home.”

The second shoe was quick work, he stopped at the end to ask if she still was up for dinner. She said yes, so they began the walk. They walked hand-in-hand, and xavier put her phone in his pocket, as her pants did not have pockets.

“I MISSED YOU SO MUCH” Enid screamed throwing herself at the two as if she didn’t see them in class a few hours ago.

“You are suffocating them.” Wednesday said blandly from behind her ‘roommate’, like anyone believed they were just roommates. “I thought I was the one that had those tendencies.”

“We missed you too, Enid.” Xavier said as Enid disentangled herself from the pair. (Y/N) began to shrink into his side at the spontaneous stimulation and loud noises. Xavier squeezed her hand to try to soothe her.

“Can we get some food now? I am starving!” Ajax said, Xavier and him had the same terrible day.

They all began walking in, grabbing their trays. Xavier grabbed 2, passing one to (Y/N). She carried it just fine until food started being placed on it, then she started to struggle with keeping in level and holding up the weight of it. Luckily, most of the food service had a counter infront to rest your trey in. At the end, Xavier came up with an idea to help her.

“Hey, could you fill up out glasses, I’ll carry our trays over to our seats. I hate having to balance the water on the trays!” Xavier said, trying to act normal, however his voice still remained overly gentle with her. She nodded, not noticing what he did. 

Xavier was quick to pick up both trays with ease, carrying them to the table. Xavier stayed standing to watch (Y/N) filling the drinks up clumsily. She started carrying them slowly but carefully, searching the room for her group. A haphazard smile formed on her face when she spotted them.

As she wobbled her way over some of the drink spilled over the side of the cup but she didn’t notice. She was focus on getting back to the table. Once there the glasses were placed down and she was offered some handsanitizer to hopefully stop her from getting sticky hands. 

“So how was everyones day?” Enid asked once they were all sat.

A corus of ‘ehhhh’s filled the table. Soon separate conversation began, wednesday was listening to a play-by-play of enids entire again most likely for the second time today. Ajax leaned over to Xavier, “Yo, is (Y/N) okay?”

Xavier looked over at (Y/N), she was pushing the food around her plate. Her grip on the fork was like a toddler gripping a crayon. The food needed to be cut, she obviously was unable to do so by herself. “Oh, she just had a rough day and is tired, don’t worry!”

Xavier pulled back from Ajax and leaned towards (Y/N) again. “Hey, need some help? The meat is a little tough to cut, can I do that for you?”

“Yesh, please” She said quietly, looking up at him with a small glimpse of nervousness that he was catching onto her. However, he said nothing more as he pulled her plate over, using his fork and knife to cut her food into small bite size pieces. He pushed it back infront of her. She began to eat clumsily, trying her best to scoop or stab at her food.

The meal went quickly, Enid and Wednesday were the first to leave, as Wednesday had to go do her hour of writing. Ajax lingered chatting with Xavier and at (Y/N). However, soon he wondered off to talk to other friends. 

“Hey, wanna get a to-go box for desserts and go back to my dorm?” Xavier asked, whispering in her ear. Looking at the food still left in her plate, “We can pack up your food too…”

“Yesh, pease…” (Y/N) slur, rubbing her fists against her eyes.

“Okay, how about you start thinking about what you want for your sweet and i’ll get out to-go boxes!” Xavier said, only standing up after she nodded. He moved quickly getting the boxes, not liking the idesa of her being little alone in the middle of the caf. Luckily when he got back to her, she was smiling up at him, looking dopey. 

He quickly packaged up her leftovers and then put the trays on the rack above the trash can that was right next to them. “C’mon, lets get you something tasty.”

The pair made their way over to the dessert bar, Xavier carrying both boxes. “Can I have the sprinkle cake?” 

Xavier smiled, “Of course you can.”

The cake was pretty far back on the bar, so xavier had to get it for her. Packing it away, grabbing something for himself and a rice krispy treat. Soon they were on their way back to Xavier’s dorm.The closer they got to the dorm, the more (Y/N) got nervous. She was gonna fully slip, she’s been slipping the entire evening. She has to leave or she will be stuck telling him about her secret.

A small part of her mind whispered, but he’s an outcast too, he won’t think it’s weird. He cares about me, he always looks out for me! He loves me when we are big, so he will at least tolerate me when I am little. They promised to marry each other if they are single later in life, they were each others first kiss, they promised to always be their for each other. 

They stood in front of the door to his room, he was swinging it open with one hand. He entered first to turn on the light and place the food on his desk. She slowly staggered in, closing the door. As the hall disappeared from view, the stress took over, she was on the verge of slipping, however, was bigger now than ever before.

“Xavier…” The sound of his full name, not a nickname, made his head shoot up. He moved over to be right in front of her. “I think I have to tell you something.”

“Okay, do you wanna sit down on the bed?” Xavier asked, she nodded. They moved to sit down.

“I- I should have told you this earlier, cause now it’s hard…” She says getting teary eyed.

“Oh baby, it’s okay, nothing you say could ever make me love you less.” Xavier said, running a hand up and down her back trying to soothe her.

“I, umm, well, when I get stressed or um if something really bad happens, umm, I- my head gets all fuzzy and I start to umm well…” (Y/N) hiccuped in a few breaths of air, “I- I REGRESS!”

Xavier went to speak, however, her sobs cut him off. “Oh, baby!” He was quick to grab her and pull her into his lap. He bounced and rocked her lightly, while kissing her temple mumbling against her skin. 

“I- sorry! ‘M sorry” She cried. Still being hushed and comforted.

“It’s okay, I had been thinking you might be a little, but I had a vision earlier and I know baby.” Xavier spoke, his voice was calm and reasuring. “Baby, who’s been taking care of you?”

She just shook her head, indicating she wasn’t being cared for in littlespace. Her tears were slowing luckily, just resting in her lashes and on her waterline. Xavier in that moment swore to take care of her in everyway until she asked him to stop or found someone she liked better.

“Little one, can I take care of you when you feel little?” Xavier asked, hopeful.

“You want to be my dada?” (Y/N) asked, eyes wide and voice growing small again. She was regressing farther into space with little to no fight, the sleepiness overtaking where the stress once resided. 

“Yes, would you like that?” Xavier asked, rocking his sleepy baby.

“Yesh pease!” She gurgled back, nestling into his side.

“Let’s take a nap and finish our food later.” 

Xavier and (Y/N) layed on his bed and snuggled, as she began to drift towards sleep. Her hands gripped his shirt, one trying to make it’s way to her mouth. Xavier moved the fist away from her mouth and placed his thumb between her lips, resting weight in her tongue. She suckled and hummed, sleep soon took over her. 

Xavier stayed up staring at her, he wanted to be everything for her. He was gonna spoil this girl rotten. The little shoe box was soon going to grow to a storage box in Jericho.

#x little! reader #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x little! reader #age regression #little space #little!reader #age regression fic #agere #agere little #littleone #sfw age regression #cglre #cg! xavier thorpe #wednesday #wednesday fanfic #wednesday fandom

[awakenthemusic]

Threshold

Summary: Cas is gone… again. That doesn't mean he's not still haunting Dean's dreams, though.

Tags: Destiel, Short fic, ~600 words, Angst, Grief/Mourning

For Suptober 2023 Day 1 - Liminal.

Under the cut or on Ao3

Dean woke with a gasp, the stench of singed feathers clogging his nose and coating his throat with ash.

The smell of burning wings.

His heart pounded as he fought the bed sheets tangled around his legs where they clung to the sweat that drenched his skin. He wrestled his way out enough to turn on the bedside lamp and searched his surroundings with frantic eyes.

He was in his room at the bunker. There were no sunny green fields with the grass scorched black. No tang of char and lightning. No angels.

No Cas.

Dean buried his face in his shaking hands and tried not to scream.

The dream had felt so real and so hazy at the same time. He’d seen so many angels, recognized them and known that they were kin. He’d stared them in the face as they’d burned.

Even now, the guilt and the fury and the godawful smell made his stomach roil. It took him back to kneeling in the dirt outside the house where Kelly Kline was giving her life to bring a possible monster into the world. Took him back to the paralyzing grief that had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart only to grind it into the ashes left behind by Cas’ wings.

A vicious voice in his mind taunted, You don't even have a body to burn this time.

Dean wrenched himself from his bed, stumbling over to grab the bottle of whiskey he'd left on the table by the door. He held it for a long moment, his shaking arms screaming with the impulse to throw it, to smash it against the wall and watch it shatter, to grind the broken glass under his feet like he’d been walking on the shards of himself ever since Cas had said… had said goodbye in the fucking dungeon.

He squeezed the neck of the bottle so hard, he started to lose feeling in his fingers.

“You son of a bitch.” The words wrenched out of him, jagged and ripping at his throat. With sudden clarity, he knew he had to get himself somewhere else before he lost the ability to bite them back entirely.

He threw on yesterday’s clothes and grabbed his keys, tearing out of the bunker’s garage like he had hellhounds on his ass.

Baby flew down the highway, eating up the miles as Dean’s thoughts spun faster than Baby’s tires. Emotions twisted up in his gut so tight, he worried he’d never get the knot to come loose.

He angrily scrubbed away the tears that itched as they flowed down his cheeks.

He drove to a field outside town, one with a brook, a little garden, and a windmill nearby, all bathed in moonlight.

He skidded to a stop, uncaring of the way the tires tore into the grass on the side of the road. He marched out into the field and screamed.

All of the pain, all of the turmoil raging in his head, poured out of Dean, burning his throat like acid as it went.

“You SON OF A BITCH!”

He paced the clearing like a wild animal, uncaring if the town’s newly-returned residents heard him. “You fucking asshole! You were supposed to be here! Paradise on earth, that was the plan! How can I— How could you—“

Dean screamed wordlessly at the sky, falling to his knees in the soft grass.

The fight left him in a rush, nothing but empty ache left behind. He sank back onto his ass and buried his face in his hands. His voice cracked as he whispered, “There’s no paradise for me without you.”

#suptober23 #destiel #fanfic #fanfiction #spn #supernatural #myfics

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Haunted

“Oh, I'm holding my breath

Won't lose you again

Something's made your eyes go cold”

Masterlist

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Part 4/6, Bucky’s closer to figuring out the truth, and you haven’t thought about what’s his name in days.

Warnings: Nightmares and fluff.

Bucky watched as soft snores fell from your open mouth. Apparently today drained you, he understands, he feels like he just got hit by a truck. Everything is gone, everyone is gone, he doesn’t know how it happened. How did a lifetime disappear?

Bucky had plans, now there’s no chance they’ll ever happen. Him and Steve were gonna buy houses side by side when the war ended. Raise families together, bring up children together. But he doesn’t know if Steve even remembers him; he’ll find out tomorrow.

His eyes slowly drift closed, then he hears the front door swinging open. His body jerks, he looks left and right and you’re no where to be seen. Gusts of wind are blowing piles of snow through the door, he jumps up, looking up to the empty loft, the bathroom doors open and the lights off. You’re gone.

He feels a hand on his shoulder but when he turns around no one’s there. All of the blood in his body was now pounding through his ears, like a deafening throb. He runs outside, determined to find you. He quickly throws his right arm up, shielding his eyes from the shards of ice falling from the sky. The snow was relentless on the mountain.

Bucky squints into the dark woods, he swears he hears someone, but they’re too far away to make out what they’re saying. He bravely steps into the abyss in search. “Help, please, is anyone out there?”. The persons voice becomes clearer. Bucky is running through the woods, one boot in-front of the other. With the storm coming down it feels like that night he found the cabin.

A familiar pain of cold air stabbed at his lungs. He can’t see a thing, the moon bounces off some patches snow but the storm clouds make it an impossible labyrinth of trees. “Hello, can you hear me?” He bellows out, hopeful.

Bucky’s breaths sharpen, and for a second he hears someone else’s deeps breaths. He stops his trekking through the snow, turning his body in a full 360 degrees. Any moment now something would pop out at him. “Is there anyone out there? Where are you?” He tries one more time to make contact with whoever was calling out.

He hold his breath, and stands completely still, keeping the snow from crunching under his feet. He’s all alone, or so he thought. “Buck.” He whips his head around to see his friend reveal himself from behind a tree. “Steve?” Bucky can’t believe it, how did he get here so quick from New York? It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since the call with Darcy.

“How did you get here so fast? What is going on? I met this girl, she tried to convince me you were frozen in ice for 70 years.” Bucky starts rambling. Steve just stoically stands there, face devoid of any emotion. Bucky’s relief starts to fade “Steve? What’s wrong?”.

It was as if the man didn’t see Bucky. He was looking right at him, but he was unwavering in his stance. “How could you?” He finally speaks up, but it doesn’t sound like him. Bucky’s brows furrow, “How could I what?”. He takes a step back, distancing himself.

Steve drops his gaze, slowly shaking his head. “All those innocent people. Brutally killed in their homes, in their cars, in-front of the world, you’re have no shame.” Bucky’s face contorts in horror. He would never, he has never, and he could never do that. “Stop, I have no clue what you’re talking about. Steve, you’re starting to freak me out.”

Steve lunges forward, reaching out. Bucky doesn’t let him get close enough before he breaks out in a sprint. “Steve! Please, just tell me what’s going on.” Bucky runs faster than he ever had before. Steve is right on his heels. His feet stutter under him and it causes him to crash into the thick snow, spitting out chunks on snow and dirt.

He rolls over to his back, his chest rising and falling, causing cloud of fog to emit from his mouth. Steve stands over him, raising his shield above his head, “Why Buck? Why didn’t you just die?”.

Bucky’s eyes widen as he watches Steve release his weapon, letting it fall down to slice him. He feels the ground beneath him start to rumble and then everything goes black. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes in this dark realm. When he opens them, he’s back in that cozy little cabin, you’re curled up under a heavy blanket. The golden lamplight made your skin glow. It was warm, and the tv quietly played the third Princess Diaries movie.

He reaches up with his right hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes, but he’s met with beads of sweat on his brow. That dream felt real, all of them till now felt like he was floating.

He stares out the window behind the tv. Watching as the snow rapidly falls; as the sun comes up and you start to rise. He’s in shock, why was Steve talking about innocent people? Why was Steve blaming him? That wasn’t the Steve he knows.

If he’s honest with himself, he was terrified. He didn’t see a soul behind his friends eyes. It was like Steve was a shark who just smelled blood. His heart continues to race as you rise from the couch, stretching your tired limbs. “Hey.” You say awkwardly. You don’t know what to say, you’d never had just a sleepover with a guy. Even under these circumstances you feel embarrassed by your puffy faced state.

Bucky looks up to your comforting presence, and he feels his nerves begin to relax. “Hey.” He replies. “Are you alright, you’re as pale as a ghost.” You say, waking into the kitchen to boil water for coffee. To you, the cabin was freezing, no golden warmth like how Bucky saw it.

He nods his head at your question. “Just a bad dream.”. Now it’s your turn to nod, “We still have a while until we hear any news from Darcy, it’s still night there.” You say, emptying left over grounds into the trash.

Bucky stands, holding his left arm close, “Anything I could do for you?” He says yawning. “I wanna earn my keep, I feel like I’ve been intruding too much on your space, the least I could do is make myself useful.”

You stop mid pour, you’d never had a man be so thoughtful. Your ex just knew how to take and never give; it was exhausting. “Um, firstly, would you like a cup of coffee Sargent?” You smile, sliding a blue coffee cup across the counter.

Bucky sips the dark liquid, the roasted flavor reminding him of early mornings with his ma. He sucks on his teeth, “Sounds nice coming from you, if I’m honest.” Bucky liked the way Sargent rolled off your tongue, like it was meant to be patronizing, but it sounded genuine.

If your cheeks weren’t already pink from the cold, Bucky would definitely be able to see the blush that overtook your whole face. “Like I said, I appreciate and respect a man in uniform.” You flirt back, unashamedly.

Bucky chuckles, finishing off his mug. “Seriously though, anything I could do?”. You look past him into the living room. The black stove sat in the corner, unused. “We need wood if we’re gonna warm this place with something other than space heaters.”

“That is all you had to say.” Bucky walks back into the living room, and pulls his blue coat over his arms. “I think I seen an axe out there somewhere.” He smiles walking towards the door.

“Wait, your arm looks hurt, are you sure you should be chopping wood?” You say in concern. Bucky watches your worried eyes fall to the arm he cradled, he noticed the nervous pitch in your voice. “If I don’t, who will? Can’t let you go out and do it, not on my watch.” He says, letting you know he’s too much of a gentleman.

You’re starting to lose count on how many times this man had surpassed your expectations. You know he’s just being old fashioned, if anything you should be offended. A woman could chop wood just as good as a man. But you just knew Bucky meant it differently, like you shouldn’t have to break a sweat, chopping wood was beneath you. He’ll bare the cold for the both of you.

You watch through the kitchen window as Bucky swings the axe with one arm, he doesn’t miss once. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the way his hair fell in his face, making his perfect appearance look more disheveled.

Maybe you shouldn’t be checking him out, it’s not like you should be moving on so quickly. You need to find yourself before you get wrapped up in another person. You don’t even know your favorite flavor of ice cream, and there’s hundreds of flavors you haven’t even tried yet.

You want to help Bucky, but you’re putting yourself first, no matter what happens. If it gets too hairy or too serious, you’re out. You just want to be a good person, and good people don’t drool over their house guests. On that note, you walk over to the wood burning stove, opening the rusted door, you find a box of matches sitting on top. You light one and burn what dry wood was left from the previous owner. You needed hot coals to keep the fire going on the snow moistened wood Bucky was chopping.

You hold your cold fingers up to the cracking flames, it’s like blood was rushing back to the frost bitten tips. You close your eyes for a second to bask in the warmth you’d created for yourself, and then you hear a distant whooshing, you look out of the window to see the trees thrashing violently; snow blowing everywhere.

Bucky comes bursting through the door, axe in hand. “What is a helicopter doing all the way out here?”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #mcu #avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers #fanfiction #fanfic #winter solider x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #marvel #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #cabin #supernatural #the winter soldier

[hidingbehindmishacollins]

i know we’re all going through ao3 withdrawals so here is the slightly unedited version of my newest fic “all i need is on the other side of the door” from the depths of my google docs. it’s got all the fixings’ (and by that i mean fluffy destiel where freckles are angel kisses and bonus dean and charlie being besties content)

find me over on ao3 at sleep_deprived when the site returns from war <3

all i need is on the other side of the door

It was just a milk run.

That’s how it started, anyway.

A quick hunt a few hours out of Lebanon. Kill some vamps, save some kids. Dean could do it in his sleep. The nest had been easy enough to track down. Nestled in an abandoned neighborhood on the edge of town, the old house perfectly fit the bill. As a result of Sam’s insistence that Dean was the best out of all of them with kids, Dean is on his own searching for hostages while Sam is off somewhere else in the house looking for the vamps. Cas went with Sam for backup in case there were more vamps than anticipated. Not to say that Sam was incapable, because every creature alive AND dead knew he was. It was just nice to know your friend with the ability to smite anything in the blink of an eye had your back. Although Dean misses having the angel at his flank, he’s glad Cas has gone with Sam for that specific reason.

Dean cringes and curses under his breath as a floorboard creaks, exposing his presence. He quickly scans the room and locks eyes with a little girl peeking out from behind the door to the basement. The kid’s eyes go wide and before she can make a run for it, Dean throws his hands up and lets the machete he has been clutching in his right hand fall to the ground. So much for the element of surprise.

“I’m here to help, kid. Are you by yourself?” he asks, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible. The girl continues to stare at him for a few seconds before slowly shaking her head and glancing back down the stairs behind her.

“Are the others down there?” he tries again, but instead of being met with an answer, the girl turns and hurries back down into the darkness. Dean sighs and pulls his phone out to text Sam as he follows her to the basement.

I think I found the kids. Meet you out front when you’re done

The stairwell is narrow and smells of old blood and death, which only makes Dean move faster. How long have these kids been trapped down here? How many have already died? He isn’t sure he wants the answer.

Once Dean finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, he tries to assess his surroundings in what little light is being provided by his flashlight. The room, however, appears to be empty, and suddenly Dean has a very bad feeling that he has just fallen into some kind of trap.

“Kid?” he calls out. His hand flies to his hip on instinct when he is met with more silence. Even though he had replaced his gun with a syringe of dead man’s blood last night, he still feels unsteady. The buzz of a phone call in his back pocket startles him and he immediately pulls it out with the hope of Sam delivering good news.

“Sammy?”

“Did you find the kids?”

“Why?”

“Dean, we were way off. The kids are not the hostages. Where are you?”

“What?” Dean chokes out, going completely still.

“It’s the adults. The kids were using them as a cover up. Where are you?”

“The basement. Sam,” Dean pauses, grip tightening on the syringe. “I don’t even have my machete.”

“What?!” Sam barks. His voice comes out in a huff of breath, suggesting that he’s running. Dean can faintly make out Cas saying something in the background. “Okay, you need to get out of there now! We’re on our way!”

Dean finally moves, spinning around with the intent to run back up the stairs, which would’ve been a great escape plan if said stairs weren’t currently being blocked by the little girl, because of course. Of course they were. He swings the flashlight around in an attempt to find any other way out only to find himself face to face with around fifteen adolescent vampires.

“Fuck!” Dean curses into the speaker before the phone falls to the ground. It dawns on him that this rescue mission is about to turn into an ambush, and he sucks in a breath as the vamps all rush him at once. Dean manages to stick one with the syringe, but his empty hands can only get him so far against the rest. The last thing he hears is Sam calling out his name on the speaker before he is violently thrown and his head connects with the concrete wall.

***

Dean eventually regains consciousness only to immediately groan in pain. The pain means he’s alive, at least. That’s a start.

“Dean?” comes a familiar voice, and all the fight leaves Dean’s body. Cas is here now, which means he must be safe. The burning smell that lingers in the air after he goes all smite-y meets Dean’s nose and comforts him further. It’s short lived, however, as another bout of pain wracks his body. Something is definitely broken. Or multiple things. Probably the latter, because that would just be Dean’s luck. Dean groans again and fights to open his eyes. They’re swollen shut, though, and he wonders just what had happened while he was unconscious to cause that.

“Dean,” Cas calls out again, much closer this time. “Both of your legs are broken. One of us has to carry you out of here.”

“You,” Dean barely chokes out, too out of it to care about what he is saying.

“What?” Cas sputters, seemingly taken aback by this response.

“Want you to do it,” he says, and Cas says nothing. Dean almost speaks again, but swallows whatever he was going to say when he feels arms hesitantly move underneath his back and knees. Cas is gonna carry me out bridal style, he finds himself thinking. Before he can even explore the meaning behind that thought, though, Cas begins to move him and the pressure on his legs is agony.

“I know, Dean. I am so sorry,” Cas says, his voice coming out strained. Dean must’ve made some sort of noise again. “I am so sorry I wasn’t here.” Dean wants to tell him to stop apologizing, but his mind becomes distracted again as the trip up the stairs jostles his whole body into more pain. “I’m sorry, Dean.” Cas sounds like a broken record, but his string of apologies is followed by the welcome feeling of grace seeping into Dean’s skin at every point of contact between them. The feeling is intoxicating as it slowly flows through each injury and mends every broken bone, patch of skin, and blood vessel it can reach. By the time Dean feels the breeze on his face, alerting him that they have made it outside, the bottom half of his body is nearly healed. His head, however, is still throbbing and he is faintly aware of the blood dripping down the back of his neck.

“My head,” he croaks, turning to tuck himself further into Cas.

“I know, Dean. My grace is working first in the places where I am touching you. I cannot help your head without dropping you.” He sounds defeated and almost like he has been crying, which is silly. Angels don’t cry, do they?

“Cas,” Dean says anyway, because he cannot seem to manage anything else. He isn’t even sure what exactly he is asking for. “Please.” At first, Dean gets no answer. As the seconds tick by, he loses faith in ever getting one.

That is, until he feels lips press gently against his forehead.

The relief is almost instant, and Dean cannot help but let out a contented sigh. The grace ebbs and flows underneath his skin, and he wonders if this is what salvation feels like. He is so overwhelmed by the feeling that he neglects to process how exactly he received the relief. Just as he hears Sam open the door to the Impala, Dean passes out again.

***

Dean woke up the next morning tucked into his bed at the bunker and immediately started to panic. Did that really happen? Had Cas really done that? Did it mean anything? Ultimately, his spiral was squashed by Sam coming in to check on him, delivering the news that Cas had left to take care of something, and Dean, in true Dean fashion, sufficed to reduce the moment down to one bore of desperation to help a friend and nothing more.

He had himself convinced that he was satisfied with this deduction right up until Charlie came to visit a week later. They had been in the middle of an episode of The Lord of the Rings (Charlie’s pick) when Dean noticed her looking at him funny. She was staring at the same spot on his forehead that he had caught Sam looking at a few times the past few days, though less subtly. Dean pickes up the remote and hits pause, which causes Charlie to suddenly look anywhere but his face.

“What is it?” he asks, hesitation lacing his voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says rather quickly, making Dean huff.

“Charlie.”

“It’s just…”

“What?”

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“It’s clearly something.”

“Okay, let me rephrase: I don’t think it is something you want to hear,” she answers slowly, moving to meet his eyes. Dean sees question and something else he can’t quite place there, and the soft spot he has for her subdues all hesitancy.

“Just tell me anyway. I know you want to,” he sighs, moving the popcorn bowl to the floor so he can turn to fully face her. She studies his face for a moment before a slow smile creeps up on her own and she moves to mirror him.

“Okay, well…you asked for it. Remember that.”

“Got it,” Dean says flatly, and Charlie has the audacity to laugh at him.

“Okay, I just noticed that you seem to have more freckles than you normally do? Which would usually be a pretty odd and obscure thing to notice, but there’s so many new freckles that I do. Right,” she starts, poking him in the middle of his forehead. “Here. There’s a new cluster.”

“Okay?” Dean replies, more confused than anything now. Why would he not want to hear this? It’s weird, but he isn’t upset by it. “Anything else?”

“Have you ever heard freckles be referred to as angel kisses?” she asks, her grin becoming impossibly larger. Dean just stares at her. “Because many people believe that freckles are where you have been kissed by an angel. So, naturally, I am just curious…”

“Charlie…,” Dean starts, but he isn’t even sure what he wants to say. She ignores him.

“Did you and Cas finally pull your heads out of your asses?” Dean cannot believe what he is hearing. Well, it’s coming from Charlie, so he can, but he still isn’t ready for it.

“I, uh,” he tries. Her eyes seem to light up even more, and he fears he has made it worse.

“No,” he says, and Charlie’s face falls ever so slightly. She manages an “oh”, and Dean rushes to tell her the full story.

“I mean, Cas did, uh, kiss me there. But it was to heal me. He was carrying me and couldn’t reach my head,” he explains. Charlie looks at him curiously and he feels his stomach flip as a mischievous look takes hold in her eyes again.

“Just to heal you?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes? Why else would he?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“God, you are such an idiot. Do you realize that?”

Dean throws his hands in the air out of frustration, but before he can question her about whatever she’s talking about further, he hears the door to the bunker open. Sam is back. Charlie notices too, causing her to squeeze his knee and stand up to go greet his little brother.

“Look, lover boy. Just think about it. And I am begging you,” she says, reaching out to touch his forehead again. “Go look in the mirror.” She giggles as she walks away, and Dean feels left in the dark. He understands what Charlie is insinuating. What he doesn’t understand is how she could possibly think that Cas feels the same way about him that Dean feels about Cas. Cas didn’t love him. Why would he?

Despite these thoughts, Dean still finds himself in front of a mirror fifteen minutes later. Now that he’s looking for it, he does notice the difference. Right where Cas had placed his lips a week prior, a new cluster of freckles had accumulated. He tries to trace a pattern with his eyes, but it just makes his head hurt after a while. This just has to be some crazy coincidence. Right? Cas has kissed other people before. Dean is well aware. He witnessed the whole Meg scene and feels guilty for how sick it had made him feel with jealously. The point is, of all the people Cas has kissed, Dean has never noticed any new freckles. Not on Meg and CERTAINLY not on April. So why him? Is it something Cas has control over? Or something Dean is overthinking that means nothing at all?

Dean eventually manages to tear himself away from the mirror, but the idea haunts him for days. The thought keeps him up at night, and thankfully Sam has the grace to not bring it up.

He caves after the fifth day.

“Dean?” he starts, and the cautious tone in his voice immediately puts Dean on edge. He freezes beside the fridge and suddenly feels cornered within the kitchen.

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine, Sammy.”

“Dean,” he says insistently. Dean doesn’t have the patience for this conversation.

“What, Sam? What?!”

“I know you haven’t been sleeping very well. Is something going on with you?” Dean huffs a dry laugh.

“Nothing you could help me with, believe me.” Sam looks hurts, and Dean regrets the way he phrased that sentence. “I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t worry about me, dude.”

“Dean-”

“I’ll be in my room,” Dean says, cutting him off. He grabs a beer on his way out and ignores his brother’s protests. When he reaches his bedroom, he slams the door shut behind him and lands rather ungracefully on his memory foam mattress. As if his distress could be sensed, he pulls his phone out to be greeted by a text from Charlie.

Sam told me you aren’t sleeping. Does it have anything to do with what we talked about?

Dean laughs bitterly. Of course Sam told her.

Why would you put that into my head?

He almost immediately regrets saying that once he hits send. He can see that she read it already, though, so there is no taking it back.

Oh Dean

Why don’t you just talk to him?

How am I supposed to talk to him about that?

With your words?

Not funny

Come on

It was a little funny

Not laughing

Okay old man

Anyway

It’s Cas, dude. Nothing you say to him is gonna

make him go a-wall on you

He isn’t even at the bunker right now

He hasn’t been here since that hunt

Interesting

Very interesting

Why would that be interesting?

He disappears like this all the time

You’re very stupid

And dense

It’s almost endearing

You are not helping at all

Oh really?

You want my kind of help?

I can play that game

Wait Charlie

What do you mean by that

Charlie

Charlie never answers him, and Dean throws his phone down with a grumble. He feels like a stupid teenager again and it’s miserable. All over what? Some stupid theory? He wants to throw up. He nurses his beer and feels like a pathetic mess. The minutes pass slow, and he has no idea what to think. He loves Charlie, but he doesn’t trust her. Not when it comes to stuff like this. He knows better than that. Dean moves to take another swig, but the familiar sound of feathers rustling makes him choke on it.

Dammit, Charlie!

“Dean?” Cas questions from the other side of the door, and Dean’s resolve crumbles.

“Come in, Cas,” he sighs, but it sounds broken. What is wrong with him? The angel reluctantly opens the door and appears nervous as he shuts it behind him.

“Charlie said you, um,” he pauses, and Dean notices that he’s wringing his hands. Such a human habit. “She said you wanted to talk to me.”

“So, what? You just dropped everything to come and see me?” Dean bites out. It sounds like an accusation. He supposes it is. “I thought you were too busy with angel business to come home.” Dean hadn’t realized how hurt he has been by Cas being gone for this long until now. In comparison to how long he’d been gone before, it really shouldn’t have mattered. Something had changed, though, and Dean had missed him worse than usual.

“I was trying to give you space,” Cas blurts out. His eyes fall to the floor and Dean stares at him in confusion.

“Why?”

“I had a feeling you would feel uncomfortable when you woke up regarding the way I healed your head and couldn’t bare to deal with the fallout. So I gave you space. Apparently, according to Charlie, my suspicions were correct.” Dean is having trouble processing this all. Couldn’t bare to deal with the fallout? What does that mean?

“What exactly did Charlie tell you?” Cas still refuses to meet his eyes and he hesitates before answering.

“That you have been freaking out over the freckles my healing left behind and their implications. I am sorry you have lost sleep over this.” He sounds ashamed. Dean is still confused.

“So that was you? They’re from you?”

“Yes, Dean. I apologize. I usually am able to avoid leaving a claim like that, but sometimes when I am feeling overly affectionate I lose control. I can remove them for you now.”

“No!” Dean yells immediately. Cas finally looks up at him, and this time he is the one confused. He squints and gives Dean his signature head tilt, which almost causes the hunter to fold right there. “No, Cas. We’re gonna come back to that thing about leaving a claim later, but I, uh, I like them. Yeah.”

“You do?” Cas asks, and this time Dean swears he seems hopeful.

“I do. I, uh…” Oh god. What is he doing? “Can I have more?”

“What?” Disbelief this time. Not rejection, though. Dean can work with that.

“Can I have more?”

“Dean,” Cas pleads. This time his voice is strained. It does something to Dean’s insides. “Do you understand what you’re asking me? I need to know you understand, because…”

“Because what?” Cas looks like he’s about to cry. Dean moves forward and doesn’t stop until he’s close enough to reach out and touch him.

“Because I need to know this means the same thing to you as it does to me. I don’t think I can do this if it doesn’t.” Dean reaches out and grips Cas’ shoulder, staring at his hand sitting in the same place his own body had been gripped tight and raised him from perdition.

“What does it mean to you?”

“Dean…”

“Cas.”

“I fear you will not want me around anymore if I tell you.” Dean moves both hands to lapels of his coat and pulls him close enough for their lips to brush on his next words.

“Wanna bet, angel?” And then, finally, Dean crashes their lips together. Cas lets out a sound of surprise, and Dean, honest to god, laughs into his mouth. He stops, though, when Cas starts to kiss him back.

Kissing Cas is unlike anything Dean has ever done with anyone else. He’s never had a kiss mean this much, and suddenly he’s crying. Cas’ hands are on his face, cradling him and wiping away the tears, and Dean thinks that this is what Heaven is supposed to feel like. Screw the other angels and screw God. This was Heaven. After what seems like forever, Cas pulls away and stares at Dean in astonishment. His lips are swollen, and Dean blissfully thinks I did that.

“I love you,” Dean admits. It surprises him how easy it is to say it. He watches as Cas’ eyes crinkle at the edges, filling with their own tears. I guess angels do cry.

“I love you too, Dean. So very much. You taught me how to.” The angel is smiling the biggest Dean has ever seen him, and Dean has never felt happier. He dives back in to feel that smile on his own lips, which is only met with eager enthusiasm on Cas’ part.

They spend their night like that, making out lazily in bed and riding the high that comes with finally admitting your feelings for each other after years of pent-up regression. Cas is laying in bed, curled into Dean with his eyes closed, when Charlie attempts to call him. Dean sends her to voicemail and almost instantly receives a text.

What? Too busy to give me an update?

I don’t want to disturb him

He looks peaceful

HA

OH MY GOD

I’M FUCKING AWESOME

You are

You’re welcome

I love you

I know

I take it back Han Solo

Only I can do that

I love you too

Dork

I want details tomorrow <3

***

At around three in the morning, Dean reluctantly untangles himself from the sleeping angel to take a piss. He’d been under the impression that angels didn’t sleep, but Dean wasn’t about to question it. It was Cas, the angel “cursed” with humanity. Of course he could sleep if he wanted to.

With a smile, Dean quietly pads down the hallway to the bathroom. He flicks the light on but stops short once he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Reflected back at him are new freckles around his lips and down his neck, charting constellations on his skin that he doesn’t recognize. Cas probably does. Dean grins even larger and laughs. He isn’t used to getting nice things, let alone getting to keep them.

What a wonderful feeling it is to love and be loved in return.

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #ao3 #fanfic #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #charlie bradbury #deancas #trying to provide in these trying times

[jazzfordshire]

I'm back with more viking au questions, because I'm a bit excited. Is it a one shot? Planning on both being Scandinavian? Where is it set?

It's likely a multichapter, and Kara is Scandanavian but Lena is Anglo-Saxon. And I'm probably going to set it in Wessex or Mercia!

Here's a lil sneak peek

-

Two of the male warriors are engaged in some kind of game of strength, wrestling each other drunkenly to the ground while the rest of the clan cheers them on, and while Lex is watching the ruckus with a neutral expression Lena has become accustomed to reading his moods from the smallest of cues. His contempt for the Norse is evident from his place at the centre of the high table.

In Lena's distraction the chair beside her, which had been blissfully empty, is filled in a blur of furs and blonde hair.

It's the woman who had been at Clark Jorelsson's side this morning. The one whose intense gaze had lit Lena aflame.

"Gods, I'm thirsty," the woman says, grabbing the nearest mug of ale and downing half its contents in a few moments. She's panting for breath when she finishes, a thin line of foam gracing her upper lip as she grins. "What I wouldn't give for some good honey-mead!"

"Is our ale not sufficient?" Lena says delicately. She folds one leg over the other, and the flaxen-haired woman's eyes dart down to track the movement. They stay there perhaps a shade longer than is proper.

"Simply an unfamiliar brew. But I am a far-traveller. I search out new experiences," the woman says, setting the mug down with more restraint than her brethren – these Norse are all so loud, so exuberant in their feasting. Singing and shouting and fighting with each other for sport. This woman is quieter than the rest, despite her warrior's stature. Her presence is a balm.

Lena hums. "And here I thought all Norse warriors were simply machines of war."

The woman snorts. "Only when we have to be."

"Tell that to the monks at Lindisfarne."

The woman's grin widens. She stares at Lena for a moment, seeming delighted despite Lena's borderline antagonism, and finally she holds out an arm to clasp.

"I am Kara Zorelsdottir. Clark is my kin."

"Ah. So you are to be my kin too, then?" Lena says, her own words tasting bitter in her mouth. The reminder of a marriage she didn't agree to. She glances across the room, where Clark is sitting slumped in his seat with a mug of ale in each hand. He looks about as thrilled with the situation as Lena feels.

She takes Kara's arm. The blonde's grip is firm and strong; the defined muscles of her forearm shift under Lena's hand, hidden by her furs. Kara's smile dims a little at Lena's words.

"That seems to be the way of it."

Kara's grip loosens. Lena finds she's loath to let it go, but she releases Kara's arm and settles back in her seat.

"My clan tries to make violence a last resort," Kara explains. When a passing servant moves to refill her mug as he passes, Kara holds a hand over it with a shake of the head. "Which is why we left home. Got tired of all the raiding. We just want to live in peace."

"And my marriage to your cousin is what will seal it for you," Lena says. Kara's mouth forms a tight line. The sputtering torches and roaring hearth fire in the centre of the hall flicker across her face, throwing her handsome features into stark detail.

"That’s Jonn’s hope."

"Clark himself doesn’t seem to hold the same hope," Lena notes with a nod in his direction. Kara chuckles humorlessly.

"He has a beloved back in Norway. Her father disapproved of the match, but he still pines for her." Kara takes an idle swig of her half-full ale. "I think he’s crazy for not jumping for joy when he saw you."

Lena's heart kicks a fierce drumbeat in her chest.

"Do you?" Lena says, managing to keep her voice even with great effort. Kara shrugs. She pulls a coin from her pocket, flicking it between her fingers in a thoughtless movement that Lena is sure took much practice.

"I told him if he’s to have a chosen match, at least he got the most beautiful one in Christendom."

Lena's whole body flushes with pleasant warmth.

#wip game

[cosmic-waves7]

Rainy day with Izuku Midoriya

Note: I had nearly zero expectations for this post but now I'm finished with it and I think it's my top favourite that I've ever written. Pls give her a lot of love, I worked hard on this one (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠)

Warnings..(?): Heavily unedited, not really warning but Bakugo, Kirishima, Todoroki, Ochaco, Mina, Tsuyu have a bit of a cameo moment. Also lots of fluff.

Blankets, blankets and more blankets.

It was an unspoken agreement that you two didn't intend to leave the bed at all today unless the world was about to collapse.

Most of the day was spent tracing scars, changing bandages if needed and pressing soft kisses to warm skin.

Well...mostly warm since you had an anNOYING habit of shoving your cold feet under him while he squirmed away in anguish.

''You can't escape me, you shall feel the icy cold wrath of my toes!"

"nO-"

Izuku even finished up the remainder of his homework on his bed for once.

Something that even if it took a couple of minutes to do, he always insisted to finish up on his desk.

Today was different though, it was chilly, the windows were a bit frosted and rain pounded incessantly on the sturdy roofs of the dorm buildings.

There was definitely no classes or training that would be commencing today.

Which although the whole 'no training' ordeal upset deku quite a bit, that little issue was immediately fixed with the realization that it meant a whole day spent in your arms.

Yes. He did squeal internally at this revelation.

And spend the whole day in your arms he did. Snuggled up all toasty and warm in his (thankfully now updated to forest green) bed. You simply couldn't stand the idea of having so many allmight figurines, posters and other merch staring at you in the comfort of his room.

He was growing a bit tedious of all the teasing he was getting from his classmates beacuse of it anyway and he'd outgrown it a bit too so now his room was a lovely mix of greens, browns and greys.

Don't worry, he probably has a secret vault stashing all of his merch somewhere in UA. His whole class has tried to search for it only to come up empty handed while he denies it even exists but cackles madly to himself about how they'll never find it.

Now nestled comfortably on plush pillows, the next hours were spent binging movies and shows - quite a few that allmight has been mentioned in - and playing board games galore.

Even trying to throw bits of candy and other snacks into each others mouths.

Side note: turns out there's one thing other than someone messing with his allmight figurines that pisses Izuku off, that thing in question turned out to be losing at board games.

He was such a sore, sucky, loser.

Bakugo can attest to that statement wholeheartedly.

He gets real quiet and whines about it to you so much so that you can't help but giggle.

You even suggested twisters as well which had him flushed in absolute crimson but he nodded in a very shy affirmative yes.

Anyway.

After a while the rainstorm was easing up a bit but wasn't slowing anytime soon but you were running out of patience.

"Can we please play in the rain?"

"No."

"Please 'zuku."

"no pretty, can't have you getting sick."

"How about now-"

"nO."

So while Izuku was setting up another movie to watch - all your favourite snacks neatly stacked in place - you shrugged on a thick coat and scarf then bolted out of his room.

Snagging a pair of boots on your way out with the tell tail sign of green light crackling behind you, an indication that your freckled boyfriend was hot on your trail and on the brink of losing it at your stupidity.

"You can't go outside, I won't let you," You heard him shriek.

"That's what you think."

You knew there was no way he'd let you out to play in the rain.

This is Deku we're talking about. He'd Jump into a volcano for you no questions asked, but have an entire mental breakdown over you accidentally getting a paper cut.

Escaping his grip would be the only option, but with blackwhip on his side you had to be strategic or you could kiss that sweet nip of cold air and splashing water goodbye.

This was a time sensitive mission.

But you were determined to play in the rain whether he liked it or not.

Luckily you had taken on a few helpers for this mission to be successful.

"GET HIM."

That was all it took for Uraraka and Mina to start pushing pre-prepared floating furniture in the green hero's way and for Tsuyu to whip out her frog tougue, trying to nab at Midorya.

You could see blackwhip's tendrils peeking from your peripherals, trying to snatch you up and at the same time push off the offending furniture.

You rounded the corner, nearly slipping beacuse of your fuzzy socks while hastily scampering past a baffled Shoto and Katsuki.

"What's going on here, huh?," You could hear Bakugo's rough voice shout.

But there was no time to explain with freedom right at your fingertips.

Three seconds left...

"Grab her Todoroki!"

Not even Shoto's ice could get you.

Two seconds...

"Kacchan!"

"On it, idiot."

One second...

You could feel the heat from Bakugo's explosions, smell the pop and sizzle.

You anticipated as much.

It's the reason you had one last helper left for the grand finale.

"Kirishima now!"

"I'm sorry bro."

Your red haired friend catapulted into the furious blonde, knocking him out clean mid-air, with a last angered yelp lord explosion murder was down.

Hurling open the large wooden oak doors with an expertly placed sweeping kick, modelled after a fighting move that came from your boyfriend himself, you were free.

Free I tell you!

You were cheering loudly with your arms flung up in the air, almost hysterical with laughter and you skipped onto the wet open grounds with your boots secured firmly on your feet.

The rain was a bit heavy but closer to a drizzle than before as you spun and jumped into puddles, water splashing and rivulets of the cold liquid ran down any small bits of exposed of skin.

Izuku couldn't help himself. You were positively glowing even under the rain, all bright smiles and bubbling laughter.

He'd already grabbed his own coat while chasing you and all it took was an obnoxiously large umbrella off the racks near the entrance to follow you out.

The worry of you getting sick had long left him, he'd happily nurse you back to health anyway.

The water slowed it's dripping off the bridge of your nose as a familiar shadow loomed over you. Pivoting around, you were in fight or flight mode, ready to defend your 'playing-in-the-rain-privilege' at all costs.

Your stance immediately crumbled at the warm look on his face. Deku nuzzled you into his chest, whispering jokingly that this is the last time he'll ever trust you while you both swayed in slow circles to a silent rhythm.

The echoing sounds of a seething Bakugo and a sheepish Kirishima from the short distance of the dorms' ground floor.

The girls most definitely had a whole albums worth of photos to send to the class groupchat showing the both of you out in the rain.

<3

#headcannons #anime #fiction #fluff #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #izuku midoriya headcanons #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku #deku x reader