#but MAN I AM. BURNT. CHARRED. OVER IT ALL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dudecreature · 1 year

Text

Clean Shaven

Pairing: [Established] Price x GN! Reader Synopsis: Price shaves his beard after a mission goes haywire. Word Count: 2.7k Warnings: descriptions of razors A/N: I feel like I was MIA (´～`) it is finals season after all. - the reader's callsign is Bullseye (they're a sniper and I am unoriginal lol) and - we are definitely not going to talk about how I had to google whether a movie would be on a DVD or a CD... - Enjoy! Like and reblog if you did <3

“Fuckin’ HELL. Soap!”

“Price! Shite! I’m so sorry!!”

That is all that was heard over the comms. You and Gaz shot a mix of concerned and confused looks at each other on the rooftop they were currently located. Soap and Price were the ones to infiltrate the building to find the information they needed, then blow it all to hell. You were there to provide sniper assistance and Gaz was there to fly the helicopter (he got his license and no way in hell was he going to let anyone else do that. not with his track record).

“Price, Soap. How copy?” Gaz said through the comms. There was silence for a short while, but you could still see movement through the windows of the compound. They seemed like they were still alive and hopefully uninjured. you kept your eyes through the scope tracking both men through the building, waiting with bated breath to hear back from them.

“Guys, how copy?” You had asked over the comms after Gaz had already asked twice. It was frustrating silence, but you understood not having a safe opening to answer comms. Suddenly the comms crackle back to life from their end.

“Copy fine Bullseye, nice an’ crispy.” Price sounded angry and he hesitated at the last bit. Soap was going to get it this time. According to the mission, the team needed to get as much information as possible, and then blow the place to smithereens. Price knew what they were looking for, and Soap liked to make things go boom. The pairing made sense at the time.

You looked at Gaz in bewilderment 'What the hell is he talking about?' printed across their faces. Gaz could only shrug, he knew as much as you did. Soap and Price ended up splitting through the rooms. Price headed to the office where all of the files were stored and Soap to find the weak points of the buildings.

"Soap I've got as much as I can find. You ready to detonate those planted bombs, mate?" Price's gruff voice sounded in your ear. You smile to yourself, proud of the man as always. In and out with no injuries, as it should be. Soap chatters off an excited reply and the two exit the building.

You watch through the scope of your rifle as the two stealthily exit the building. You notice that something seems… off about Price. You can sense the scowl from where they are from a hundred meters away. He looked a little different, though you couldn’t quite place it.

You could finally place it once the two had gotten closer. Soap trailed behind a grouchy Price. Oh... Oh no... Oh no no no. You now understood why Price was so grouchy.

Half of his beard was burnt off. The left half of his face looked naked, the hair on his face was half burnt. The charred hair traveled from his nose all the way up his cheek and near his ear. Barely missing his precious hat.

“What the hell happened to you?” You were unabashedly shocked at what you had seen. You trodded up to the pair with Gaz at their side, Bullseye and Gaz stared at their captain in awe. The former had packed their things quickly to get out of there quickly. You had gotten in close to assess the damage to his beard, their hands ghosting over his cheek and above his lip.

“I’m fine darling, don't fuss ‘bout it.” He paused and shot a thumb back at a very remorseful Soap and said “This one was playin' with a lighter he found and lit my beard on fire.” His hands found yours and held them while you traced his cheekbone. He looked down at them with tender eyes, appreciating the fact you were worried about him, but hated the look on your face. He leaned down to their left ear, the intact half of his beard scratching their face slightly, and whispered to them,

“Jus’ a bit of cosmetic damage.” He kissed your cheek and neck quickly before moving to get in the helicopter. You sighed at the loss of contact, threw your stuff on the bed of the helicopter, and climbed in. Gaz at the wheel the group got into the air and flew over the enemy compound. With confirming word from Price, Soap excitedly detonated the bombs he had placed and the place erupted into flames and fell to rubble in a matter of seconds. You could almost feel the heat of the flames that engulfed where the building once stood.

You looked to Price to admire him, only to catch his eye. You smiled softly at the captain and looked down at what was left of his beard. He saw this and touched the charred hair, cringing at how different it felt. It had been a while since he could feel the wind on his upper lip, it made him shift his mouth awkwardly. He needed a reflection to judge just how bad it was, and to decide how he would deal with it.

Price knew that his lover liked his beard, you had often commented on how it tickled when they kissed (among other things *wink wink*), and would help him groom it on occasion. His beard was a staple of his look, aside from his hat, and having to part with it gave him a sense of anxiety he hadn’t ever felt before. He worried how his Bullseye would feel if he had to shave it all off, maybe he could keep a little of it just to hopefully keep them with him. He was snapped out of his thoughts when Bullseye bumped his shoulder.

“Hey, it’ll be alright love, it grows back.” You said with endearment. He huffed a response and scratched awkwardly at his face still. When the group arrived back to base Price was able to hide the accident behind his hand in the debrief, the darkness of the room aiding him. Once the four were dismissed he was the first to leave the room, bustling down the halls praying no one saw him.

You followed at a slower pace, allowing for the man much-needed space from everyone. When you arrived at the door of their shared room you knocked gently calling out for him. When you had heard a response you then asked if you could join him. The door suddenly opened and he looked down at them with a look in his eyes that you were not able to place.

“It’s your room too you know, of course you can come in,” he grumbled and made space for them to make their way into the room.

“I know, I just wanted to give you the option of having a moment to yourself, love.” Bullseye responded in a soft and caring tone. You knew how much he liked his facial hair, and he also knew how much you liked his facial hair. However, you wanted to check in on him first. you sat on the shared bed and patted the spot next to them, offering a seat to the Captain.

He sat down next to them with a soft sigh and leaned his head on their shoulder. you were trying to comfort him and he knew this. Accepting the gentle affection and support, he closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. He wasn't the type to talk about his insecurities or when he was feeling anything but confident, but there was something inherently trustworthy about Bullseye. It had drawn him in the first time they had met so many years ago.

“Will you help me fix this?” he asked in a soft tone. you nodded and stroked his back. As he stood, you stood with him and followed him into his personal bathroom. you knew where everything was, so you pulled out the scissors, shears, and the razor and shaving cream. Taking a washcloth, you had run it under warm water and heated it to a very comforting temperature. Price was pushed to sit on a chair that was brought into the bathroom, right in front of the large mirror. Bullseye stood in front of him as you wrung out the washcloth of excess water. When you turned, Price was looking up at them, with so much love in his eyes one would think that he hadn’t been a hardened soldier for nearly two decades.

you smile softly at the man, gently take his hat off, and place the warm cloth on the bottom half of his face. After a few silent minutes, you took the washcloth off and wiped as much of the grime left on his face as you could. You took your time and were able to admire the man's face. The way his eyebrows furrowed when they got close to his eyes. The straight bridge of his nose and the crow's feet developing near the corners of his eyes. You suddenly broke the silence as gently as you could.

“Are we trying to salvage the chops or are we going for a clean shave?” you ran their hands through the right half of his face, scratching at the salvaged portion of the beard. He grumbled and his top lip twitched in thought. you waited patiently for the man to make up his mind and you ran your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

“Do you think it can be saved?” he asked slightly hopeful, but honestly he knew there was no chance of saving it. He ran a gentle hand down the burnt hairs on his face and sighed; he looked up at them catching their eyes. you shook their head solemnly, just as he figured. “Clean-shaven it is then, love.”

you nodded in response and grabbed the army-issued shaving cream and his straight razor. you gather some of the shaving cream into the palm of their hand before gently lathering it over his cheeks, and chin.

“Ready?” you ask, looking at him waiting for an answer. He took a deep breath and nodded, his eyes still looking at you. They never left. Bullseye takes the handle of the razor and carefully glides it down his right cheek. The sharp blade takes all of the hair with it leaving the soft skin of his cheek exposed to the air.

Bullseye wipes the stolen hair onto a towel next to the sink. Readying for another stroke you look down at Price, his eyes closed in a relaxed state. You smile to yourself and continue their actions, curving with the shapes of his face, and being careful not to knick him.

After you had fully finished shaving his face (you even cleaned up his eyebrows a little), you put the washcloth back onto his face. It had been rewarmed by the water. Ensuring to get all the leftover hair off, you then put his aftershave on his cheeks.

Price had then opened his eyes when he felt the slight sting of the aftershave, but he didn't flinch. He hesitated before looking from their eyes to the mirror. When he did he was slightly shocked, he had forgotten how much older the beard had made him look. His beard definitely added about 5 years to his looks. After examining his face for a few moments, he looked back to the other person in the room.

“Well… how do I look, darling?” He looked up at you expectantly (and with so much rizz). You chucked at the goofy face he made and shook your head with a smile.

“You look as pretty as always.” You shoot back at him. You turn around and begin cleaning up the impromptu barber shop. He stood up from his seat and admired your work, his hand rubbing where his chops once were. Once you had finished cleaning up your station you had turned back around to face him. You wrapped your arms around his torso and smiled at him lovingly.

“Do ya wanna go watch a movie?” you ask him. The common room would be a good place for you to both unwind (in the most wholesome of ways). All you wanted to do was curl up with him and watch one of the movies on base. He hummed a confirming nod and squeezed you back. He led the way to the common room after you separated.

Price was thankful for the lack of people in the halls, he didn't want to have to deal with the odd looks and stares he would likely have gotten if there were anyone there. The two of you made your way through the halls, your pinkies intertwined, gently guiding each other.

As the two of you make it to the common room, you cross over the threshold of the doorway and are greeted by three other figures. Gaz, Soap, and Ghost have already claimed the common room as their choice of relaxation. The three men notice your presence at roughly the same time, and an awkwardly tense silence fills the space. The three of them, with their heads all locked onto the two of you still frozen in the doorway, shock visible in each of their faces.

Soap’s face configures from shock to that of what looked like genuine horror. Ghost’s eyes were wide and unmoving from Price’s face and Gaz’s mouth hung open, unable to comprehend the new look their Captain was given. You managed to stifle your laughter but a smile still tugged its way to your cheeks, you had never seen them so emotive before. Price sighed and tried to hide his face saying

“Take a bloody picture, it’ll last longer you muppets,” he grumbled aggravated at the attention.

“Did I do that?!” Soap yelled at a volume able to burst ear drums. He leapt from his seat on the couch and stood in front of Price with his head bowed downward.

“I am so sorry, Price!” he all but wept in the older man's arms at the apology. The silence from the other two men in the room was noticed when you and Price found yourselves looking at them, waiting for their input on the situation.

Ghost stayed still as ever, unmoving and steady.

“Put it back,” he muttered, barely audible. You make a noise of confusion, that Ghost reads as if you were not able to hear him.

“Put. It. Back.” he says with a more stern tone. You burst out a laugh unable to contain it. They all look at you in confusion and when you notice you stumble something about how stupid the three of them look right now. Gaz still mouth wide open finally shuts it and states very proudly

“Well, I think it looks great. You have a very handsome face.” His arms are crossed over his chest and he is nodding in confidence. Price deadpans at his statement and sighs for what feels like the millionth time that day. His beard was going to grow back totally gray at the rate of these idiots.

You put your hand on the top of Price’s back and tell the team that the two of you were going to wind down with a movie of Price’s choice. After the initial shock had worn off the two still on the couch, they agreed. Soap however still looked upset at himself, and every time he looked at Price he frowned a little more.

Price pulled the man aside and barely within earshot tells Soap he wasn’t that mad about it, but he would be on bathroom and dish duty for the next four months. You chuckle to yourself at his punishment and ready the movie on an old DVD player that Gaz had brought to the base. Classic Price chose a Clint Eastwood movie to watch.

The two of you curled onto the loveseat together while the other three sat on the couch. Price held your hand the entire movie and when you leaned to whisper into his ear he leaned down to hear you.

“How long will it take to grow back… Ghost wants to know." That last bit was definitely a lie. Price knew this, chuckled, and pushed your face away from him. You let out an undignified noise and kissed his hand looking at him. You smiled and mouthed the words that he would parrot back to you for the rest of your lives.

“I love you.”

#dudewrites #dudecreature #john price x reader #john price x male reader #john price x female reader #john price x gn reader #call of duty #cod x reader #fluff #john price fluff

969 notes · View notes

rafayelsss · 4 months

Text

CHARCOAL PANCAKES ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ content: rafayel x gn!reader, no y/n, clingy raf, calls you angelfish in place of y/n

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Rafayel keeps distracting you from cooking in the morning...

“Rafayel.”

All you’re met with is a sleepy grumble and a soft nuzzle to your neck, feeling his bangs gently tickle your skin as the strands brush against you.

“Rafayel.”

You repeat sternly, setting down the spatula to slightly crane your head back to look at his pouty little face, nestled in the crook of your neck. He lets out a dramatic groan as he wraps his arms around your waist tighter.

“What’s the problem, angelfish? Do you hate me so much to not let me even cuddle you a liiiittle bit?” Rafayel whined, putting on his best puppy dog eyes on display.

You could never hate him, of course not… But you’d doubt either of you would want burnt pancakes for breakfast. Really, you should have been prepared for him to pull this act again, he, without fail, always got so… Clingy in the mornings. Not that he wasn’t clingy already, but it's turned up to the max in the early hours, it seems.

Rafayel hung onto you like a koala every time. And you, being the figurative giving tree, could barely even have the heart to push him away. Even though you know you both will end up eating breakfast with either a slight charred flavor, or scraps you could salvage that dropped on the floor.

You sighed at his theatrics, fully aware that this would be a regular occurrence. His needy self had a way of disarming your self-control, and you couldn’t help but indulge in him.

“Rafayel, it’ll be much comfier to cuddle on the couch when I’m done cooking.” You ruffle his hair as you try to extract yourself from his grip, but it only tightens further.

“You’re just trying to get me to leave.” Rafayel started, his hands running up and down your sides in an admittedly soothing manner, silently, and slowly trying to persuade you to drop the pan and return his affections.

You hold in a snort of amusement. Of course you were trying to shoo him off. You couldn’t exactly focus on cooking a decent meal with a fully-grown man’s arms constantly around you.

But you couldn’t tell him that. No, Rafayel, being the brat he is, would whine and groan about it if you were to tell him, and constantly quote it down to the exact intonation and tone if you tried to hug him, saying something like, ‘I thought you didn’t want to be in this fully-grown man’s arms?’.

You smile at him and rest your free hand over one of his that stayed stationed at your waist, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand in circles. “I promise it’s not about wanting to exile you from my presence. It’s about the fact that I really need to pay attention here if I don’t wanna burn anything down.”

Rafayel protested by giving your hips a sudden squeeze, earning a startled soft gasp from you.

“Am I really distracting you that much? Because if that’s the case, good. Your eyes, ears and lips should always be on me. We can always order in.”

“Most shops around here don’t even open until hours later, Raf.”

You see his brows crease as you watch him weigh over his options in his head. Gears were a-turnin’ in motion in that little noggin. Eventually, he relented, loosening his grip on you yet not pulling away completely to peck your cheek.

Rafayel finally departs reluctantly to move over to the side of the smooth marble counter, crossing his arms over his chest, he still had a look of childish unwillingness as he leaned on it.

“Fiiiiine. As long as you promise to pay me back with your full attention later.”

Who could ever forget. You roll your eyes lightheartedly at his insistence.

“Deal, full attention guaranteed. Now help me finish up with plating this before we end up with a culinary disappointment.”

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #qi yu x reader #qi yu #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace rafayel x reader #love and deepspace fluff

291 notes · View notes

aerkame · 1 year

Text

Eye of The Beholder [part 1]

I think my body is trying to tell me I had too much caffeine and sugar today.

As always I'm doing an everyone x reader because I always do. (This is just part 1 though, so that comes later) This should be expected by now. Everyone will be loved and you can not stop me. *simp snarl* Okay I'll chill out it's fine. It's all dandy. It's cool. It's alr. Credits: Mob AU belongs to Clownsuu (I am assuming they're alright with this?) Welcome Home characters belong to Partycoffin

Notes: Reader is a firefighter puppet (this takes place in a puppet world duh), I had to do quite a bit of research.

__________________________________________________________

Heavy smoke pushed against the mask that protected your face as the wood beneath the creaked with each step. You had to be careful not to rush, any one of these boards could be loose and the ceiling looked like it was ready to cave. A loud crack sounded from somewhere upstairs, never mind taking it slow. You have to hurry now.

You dashed past the broken elevator just as a board fell from the ceiling. One hand firmly gripped the axe face down and the other grabbed the railing as you made your way up the stairs making sure to check the surroundings every few feet. Each step felt exhausting with the weight of the coat on your body and cautious steps that had to be taken lest you fall into the growing fire in the lobby. The temperature became hotter the higher you went, it was almost unbearable by the time you made it to the 4th floor.

The rest of the team and the captain had yet to make any contact and it was beginning to grate on your nerves. You suspect the reason why, it was the same reason this hotel went up in flames to begin with. Hell, that mob fight was still probably going on despite this spreading fire. Heaving as the oxygen became tighter, you prepared to cut the door down, raising the axe at a good angle before swinging.

Chips of charred wood fell away bit by bit until there was a clear opening to step through. Two figures lay in the room surrounded by burnt belongings and cases of unidentifiable liquids, they must have been doing something shady or possible mob activity. That would explain a few things. You shook your head to clear your already foggy mind. Nothing else mattered right now though, you found the missing persons and now you needed to make sure they made it out okay.

You wished you had backup.

The grey man was easy to pickup but you were beginning to worry about the other unconscious man. Both were larger than you, but you were stronger, you can do this. You tried a second time, then a third time before managing to stand, having both the grey puppet and red-haired puppet over your shoulders. The axe was left behind, there should still be a clean exist through the lobby if you hurried.

The fire had spread far faster then you thought. The path you planned out was now littered with fallen beams and burning chunks of the ceiling.

Seeing no other way around this, you gently placed the two men down as you unlatched a pocket to bring out two trauma blankets, hurriedly wrapping both in the protective fabrics. The last thing you needed was either of their felt skin catching flame.

A quiet wheeze caught your attention.

The grey man appeared to be struggling to breathe, you unlatched your own mask to put it over them, keeping it close enough so the tank's hose wouldn't snap away. It was going to be okay, the exist wasn't too far.

You carried the two once more, this time with more difficulty, your steps became uneven and your breath was ragged, no longer having the mask to filter out the smoke.

It's okay you told yourself, you are so so close. You never noticed the red eyes that followed you.

Pushing through the burning and itchiness in your chest, you made it to the front of the building before stumbling out and falling to one knee, not wanting to hurt the victims still on your shoulders. Everything felt so heavy. It was so hot.

You flew into a coughing fit after placing the two men on the sidewalk and looked around. Your team nor your captain were anywhere in sight. They should have been here by now. Where was the truck? Where were the ambulance? You tried to stand but failed.

Another cough escaped and you fell to the sidewalk, clawing at your coat to get it off. Your head was hurting and you felt sick. It was too hot.

Your eyelids fluttered before everything faded to black.

______________________________________________________

One knee bounced over the other as the music playing in the background went on. The brightly lit 'Closed' sign in the front flickered.

"Sally, do you understand what exactly it is you did tonight?" The voice was monotone with an edge to it.

The yellow puppet made a nervous laugh, shrugging their shoulders. "I got the target and Frank n' Eddie managed to save the evidence?"

Wally clicked his tongue in annoyance. "You made quite the mess for what was supposed to be a clean job. Two buildings burned down and a firetruck blown to bits." His foot tapped impatiently. "And now the police have gotten themselves involved if only to appease the public." Glasses clinked behind the counter as the bartender cleaned quietly. Wally continued.

"You're lucky at least one firefighter made it into the hotel before it collapsed. Frank and Eddie wouldn't be here otherwise." His voice was dripping with venom, but he made no move to do anything.

Wally rested one hand over the other as he stared at Sally. "Now, I want you to make me a promise Sally. Do not ever use those damn explosives again unless it's already been discussed beforehand. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-yes boss!"

"Good."

He peered over the counter, taking a sip from the beverage in hand, swishing it around a bit. "Barnaby, did Frank get the identity of the firefighter?"

"Yeah, he said somethin' about a mask or whateveh. But he got the face and name after a bit of diggin'," Barnaby stared off to the side as he inhaled another breath from the cigar. "Should be easy to tie up loose ends this time around, as far as I know that firefighter was the only one who saw the cases in that room."

A grin grew on the boss's face. "Well then. As soon as Eddie and Julie are ready, he'll be the one to pick up the special package."

Sally may or may not have used an explosive during a deal at a hotel that caused a giant hole in the side of the building and started a massive fire...and she may or may not have accidentally blown up a firetruck and caused a roadblock.

Also dayymn, it only takes 2-10 minutes to suffocate from smoke. No wonder firefighters need masks and a whole tank on their back when going in.

280 notes · View notes

infernalodie · 1 year

Note

wanda maximoff x black!male!reader.

reader gets badly hurt during a mission and wanda nurtures him back to help. to show how grateful he is, he finds all of her favorite skovian snacks and/or stuffed plushies. just total fluff and soft smut if wanted.

𝐀 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 || 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘛𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘖𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦”

Inspo: Etta James - A Sunday Kind of Love

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Black!Male!reader

Summary: Dancing around feelings would only last until Sunday, the start of a new week...

Warnings: none (very tiny bit of angst) because this shit is adorable

Words: 2822

“How’s he been doing?” Natasha’s voice gently pulled Wanda from her thoughts. Blinking rapidly and turning her gaze to the rose-coloured-haired woman. Finding the enchanting assassin to already be watching her with an inquisitive look in her eye. This was something Wanda should be used to since she confessed to a few unannounced feelings she felt toward a specific man. “Been up since he got back from the mission?”

Wanda tilted her head slightly, eyes looking toward the ceiling. Fingertips gently danced along the exterior of her glass filled with a wine that had appeared in the kitchen one day. “He’s stubborn. Doesn’t like the help even when I could knock him over with a tiny press of my finger to his stomach,” Wanda explained, lips slowly curving into a tiny smile. “But his physical therapy has been going well. His skin has been healing slowly, so he’s still very sensitive to the touch.”

When you came back from your mission with Steve, Wanda had been by your side the moment you the Quinjet landed on the helipad. She remembers the sight of your uniform charred with the fabric of your sleeves burnt, revealing your skin that had been caught in some type of fire or explosion. And then she remembered you holding a charming smile when she met your tired gaze. But that had been swiftly followed by you collapsing and Wanda using her powers to stop your fall.

Natasha hummed, shrugging her shoulders. “When he joined S.H.I.E.L.D. he was a pain in the ass. But now, dare I say, he’s slightly easier to work with,” she said. “But with you nursing him back to health, I am sure he’ll soften up some more. Even if it’s just with you.”

“Speaking of Y/n-” Wanda pulled back the sleeve of her denim jacket, looking down at her watch. “-I need to grab him really quick.”

“The rest of the team will be spending out at the Jackpot by the time you get back,” Natasha told her. “So, if you want to come out after you bring him back, then swing by.”

“I don’t think I can,” Wanda sighed, grabbing her keys from one of the drawers. “Y/n’s has to eat, take his painkillers, and then try to sleep. All those steps involve my help which I am fine to do.”

When she heard a quiet snicker, she looked up and found Natasha hiding her lips behind her glass. Making her crack a smile, brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you giggling about?”

Still taking a sip, Natasha hummed with a wave of her hand. “It just seems like you two are together already from the way you talk,” she pointed out. “It’s adorable how much you care about him. Like you two are an old married couple.”

Wanda felt the heat from her body rise and nestle in her face. In the weeks of Wanda helping nurse you back to health, there had been some form of trust and care felt from both sides. Which made Wanda only want to get you back to the best state she could. If that meant driving you around, making you food, using her powers to help you go to sleep when your burns became irritated by the bed, she did it all for you. And maybe that was just her being naive and allowing her feelings to become apparent in her acts of kindness.

“Ok, I’m going to go now. Have a good night with the team, Nat.” Wanda quickly rushed out of the kitchen, hoping to avoid and run away from the older woman’s statement.

But Natasha sat there, a smirk etched on her lips as she shook her head. “Love birds.”

Arriving at the physical therapy that you’d been going to for about two months, Wanda stood in the lobby of the physical therapy office. Through the double doors, she could see you talking to a nurse helping you recover from your injuries. In the mission, you’d suffered a broken light leg with extreme 4-degree burns that left you bedridden for weeks before you started taking things slow with your movements. Wanda had been there for every step you took, holding your hands and helping you move through your room until you eventually were given crutches to move on your own.

But with also being able to see you, she could hear your thoughts, and theft undoubtedly put a smile on her face. Able to listen in on the pure boredom running through your head and how you just wanted to be gone and back at the tower drinking some coffee and watching a movie. Yet, on the surface, you wore an interested look on your face that could get by the nurse who was likely explaining your exercises on Tuesday. But you could care less. You just wanted to enjoy your Sunday.

When you were finally let go by the nurse, you hobbled your way over with a deadpan. Able to see the amused look on Wanda’s face through the glass. Entering the lobby, you glared. “Not one word, Maximoff.”

“But you look adorable when you’re grouchy,” she teased, earning a groan from you. She opened the front door, allowing you to go first before she followed. “When we get back, you can just enjoy whatever TV show you’re going to watch. I’ll make you some coffee.”

God, tonight is going to be amazing

“Just remember that you owe me after this.” Wanda looked at you, finding you inhaled deeply, exhaling heavily.

“Get out of my head, Wanda,” you muttered. “Don’t need you poking around at the stuff that you shouldn’t.”

Since you met her in that old base that housed Klaue and Ultron, she had poked her way into your thoughts. Made memories rise to the surface and remind you of the darkness that clouded it. That was the last and only time you would ever allow her to do such a thing. But now, her being a part of the team and taking care of you, your leniency with her use had wavered. If it meant putting your mind at ease before you slept, then you allowed it. If she wanted to poke around and hear your sarcastic comments when Tony went on rambling about one of his projects, you allowed it since it made her laugh. But to access memories and put you in a state where you had trouble seeing the differences between history and the present, you would never allow it.

“New nurse,” Wanda pointed out, hearing you hum in acknowledgement. “Cassandra couldn’t come in today?”

Opening the passenger door, you sighed. “Yeah, she had some business to take care of today,” you explained. “Her apprentice took care of me today. Not a terrible girl, just was way too thorough than I’d like.”

Slipping into the seat, Wanda leaned down and smirked. “You don’t like anything that doesn’t appeal to your moral compass.” And before you could protest, she shut the door on your face. Silencing you as you exhaled heavily and leaned back in the seat. Glancing over when Wanda got inside, not waiting to pull out of the parking lot and make her way toward the Avengers tower.

The two of you sat in silence for the majority of the ride. That familiar comfort falling over the two of you that needn’t be accompanied by any conversation. It was the beauty of the relationship you two had. There wasn’t any need for words when the presence of one another was enough to relax. And even when you got to the tower, the two of you didn’t speak. Just standing by one another in the elevator till the doors open with the two of you stepping out into the lounge.

Truthfully, Natasha wasn’t exactly entirely wrong in her statement earlier. Wanda was beginning to see the relationship you and she had as something natural. Something that didn’t need to be made official when your guys’ words and actions spoke more than a title connecting the two of you could. For you, even when you were a belligerent fool, you still showed your care and love toward the witch. Because every day when you woke up to the sound of her soothing voice, you felt like there was something to get up to. Like there was something calling and urging you to get started with your day.

Exiting the elevator, you followed Wanda toward the kitchen. “The rest of the team went out to drink. So, you won’t have to deal with any of them for the majority of the night.” Wanda tossed the keys onto the island, moving toward the coffee machine. “I can make you a cup of coffee if you want to go get changed into something more comfortable.”

Wanda looked back at you, seeing you lean your crutches against the island and carefully begin to move through the kitchen. No word was spoken with your actions of grabbing ingredients. And when you came by her side, you placed your hand on her lower back, smiling. “I’m going to need you to scoot over, darling.”

The nickname struck an anvil in Wanda’s heart, the sparks of a burning metal resting on her cheeks She quickly stepped away and allowed you to grab the bottle of red wine she and Natasha had been drinking hours ago. You grabbed two glasses and began to pour. “You can sit and relax,” you told her. “I’m going to make you dinner.”

She wanted to protest and use her powers to sit you down, but she knew what that would result in. Likely you ignore her for the rest of the night or an argument starts over her actions. Either or, she didn’t want to deal with that, and the offer was too good to let down. Especially with her curiosity brewing with the wonder of what scheme you were brewing.

So, she took the glass you extended to her and sat on the island. Legs crossed as you moved with an elegance only a chef could have. Yet, she often needed to remind herself that all her cooking techniques had been from you. Because before you became gifted or cursed with the super soldier serum, you were chef down in the streets of New York. If she remembers correctly, you worked in Hell's Kitchen right next door to where one of your lawyer friends worked.

It often became hard for her to think of you ever being anything else besides a hero. On the battlefield, you were a brutal human being. In the way, you disposed of the opposition or in your moral compass and what you believed was right. So, seeing you cut up these carrots with speed and precision was new every time she sees it.

Glancing up from the cutting board, you met Wanda’s gaze. Her hands zeroed in on your hands, lips slightly parted, and a layered look in her eyes of something you could identify. Making you smirk, clearing your throat. The sound made her blink rapidly, looking up at you inquiringly. “It amazes me that I don’t need powers to understand what you are thinking, Wanda.”

“It’s not like that,” she defended, biting her bottom lip. “It’s just hard to think that you used to do this. After seeing the things you’ve done in the field-”

“I did those things to keep the team and world safe,” you interjected softly, dumping the carrots into the pot of boiling water. “Everything I will do has a reason to it. So, although I understand what you are trying to say, it doesn’t mean I have forgotten what makes me human.”

Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, head slightly tilting as she stares at you. “I think even when I’ve seen you kill people you were human, Y/n.” Her words make you falter for a moment, a moment too long that it allowed her to see that her words indeed had an effect on you.

Pursing your lips, you swallowed the lump in your throat and looked back at her. “Thanks, love.”

From there, a blanket of silence rested over the both of you in that comforting and warm way from before. Wanda watched you cook and you soaked up the warm feeling in your chest from being her center of attention. And somewhere in that time, she left to get out of some clothes. Coming back in some shorts with one of your shirts that hid said shorts. It was an adorable sight that you could get used to if things played well in your favour.

But she continued to watch you scoop the food from inside the pot and pour it into the bowls. Grabbing a spoon, and placing it in the bowl, you walked toward the girl and handed it to her. “Thank you.” She smiled, taking hold of the spoon and diving into the dish. It was a soup with some meat broth involved in it. And the smell was so familiar it was hard for Wanda to not feel a warm sense of contentment. And when she placed the hot liquid between her lips, her eyes flickered shut. A deep hum emitted from the depths of her chest as she placed the bowl down.

You had watched and couldn’t shake the smile from your lips. “It’s Borscht,” you stated, gaining the girl’s attention. You shrugged, “I thought you deserved something close to home instead of some random dish we Americans have. And I know you don’t like talking about Sokovia, but I feel like you deserve the little things that remind you of home because we all deserve that right.”

Wanda chewed on the inside of her cheek, the stinging sensation behind her eyes making her blink rapidly. Leaning her face into one of her hands, hiding her features from your curious gaze. And you were left in silence before she finally sat up, sniffling and revealing her tear-stained cheeks and reddened eyes.

“You don’t know how much this means to me,” she wept, trying to smile, but the emotions are overwhelming. Causing her face to twist and turn in many expressions of pain and happiness. “Thank you, Y/n.”

The least she expected was to feel your arms coil around her and pull her close. A hand comes to the back of her head and pulls her into your chest. She didn’t hesitate to melt into your body, hands falling to your waist as she cried in your chest.

Although the vulnerability wasn’t new to both of you, this sure was. You hadn’t seen her cry in months since Pietro passed away and Sokovia was destroyed. It’d been months since then and you felt like you might’ve unintentionally brought back some bad memories with the good ones.

Except, when she pulled away from your chest, looking up at you with those teary eyes, you felt like your thoughts had been answered. And when her hands held your face, you felt all worries wash away. Especially when she pressed her lips to yours, replacing the coldness of fear with the warmth of love. Making you seek it deeper, pressing your lips firmer against hers and leaning into her slightly.

The kiss was brief, but it was fulfilling for what it was. Breaking apart only a breath away with your foreheads resting against one another. Wanda licked her lips, letting out a shaky exhale, tips of her fingers gently caressing your jaw and cheek. “I love you.”

You couldn’t help the smile to break out on your lips. “And I love you too.” You pressed a kiss to her lips, to which she reciprocated and sat in this close embrace for a few moments. At least until you jutted your thumb over your shoulder. “So, I may have also had Cassandra grab me some Sokovia candy today.”

That made her eyes widen as you motioned toward one of the cupboards. “I snuck them in when you went to get changed–Which I want to add, you look adorable in my shirts.” You smiled when the girl stared at the colour packaging of the candy. Her lips parted in an open smile, looking up at you with a chuckle.

“I thought you said she didn’t work today?” Wanda reminded.

A soft laugh fell from your lips. “Wanda, will all those powers, you still can’t tell if I am telling the truth or not,” you said. “I convinced her to give her mentor a chance to get experience whilst she did me a favour. Who wouldn’t help out an Avenger to win over the girl of his dreams.”

Wanda felt those imaginary strings pull at the corner of her lips, forming a large smile. “You are full of surprises, Y/n.” Pressing her lips against yours, standing to her feet, she hummed. “I love it.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x black!male!reader #wanda maximoff x black!reader #wanda maximoff x black male reader #wanda maximoff x black reader #Elizabeth Olsen #scarlet witch #x black!male!reader #x black!reader #Natasha Romanoff x black!reader #x black male reader #marvel x black!reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #wanda maximoff marvel #x reader

337 notes · View notes

mieletthe · 11 months

Text

(evil au shadowgast(?), cw: character death)

Essek clutched his side, knowing there was no point to it. The dark fabric of his mantle may have masked the amount of blood pouring out of him, but he could not ignore the way his vision swam nor the cold sensation traveling up his fingers. Each sluggish, wet pulse beneath the press of his palm turned his stomach.

He would die here, and soon.

The scourger slumped against the charred and overturned table beside him did not look to be in any better shape. His breaths came shallowly, rasping, and he cradled a mangled hand—if it could even be called that anymore—to his chest.

“I am sorry for that. For your hand.”

The scourger scarcely moved his head to look at him, piercing eyes slanting sideways through a veil of sweat-slick red hair. Unblinking and impassive, he examined Essek. Essek watched him in return, a counterspell fizzing weakly at his fingertips. As scant as it was, it was still an excessive warning; the scourger-mage couldn’t do much with a hand like that. Essek had already thwarted his escape once.

“Would you go back and do differently?”

“No.”

In this, he wouldn’t. The last blow the scourger had dealt to his body would have been immediately fatal had Essek not cut him short with his own spell. He was not going to allow the Assembly to burn away their tracks without taking the match with him. The scourger could count himself lucky to have leapt aside in time, leaving only his arm within range of the field of crushing force. But still, a wizard losing the instrument of his trade was always a tragedy.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Essek would have expected a voice as bitter as the acrid air that hung over them, thick with the scent of ash and ozone, burnt flesh and iron. Instead it was simply tired. He felt much the same, the fight leaching dark and viscous out of his body and the resignation setting in.

None of it mattered, in the end. His ambitions, his treason, his carefully laid plans all for the sake of knowledge. None of it came to anything to his benefit. He would die without knowing, and that was where his regrets lay.

The scourger smiled, a thin, sad line. It struck Essek how sweet a smile it was. Strange to see on a man who had been trying to immolate him just minutes ago; stranger still on one he had condemned to death in return. There was no cause for forgiveness between himself and this assassin-pawn. He reached up to touch the scourger’s face. His hand, wet with blood, marred that lovely pale skin.

“I am sorry all the same.”

They died quietly together in his tower. As Essek’s eyes fell shut, he wished he’d thought to ask the scourger’s name.

#critical role #critical role fanfic #shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #or rather #bren aldric ermendrud #mieletthe writes #inspired by a one-page rpg by oliver darkshire #in which i didn't acquire a single pining point until the last roll when the wizard hunting me and i simultaneously died #of course my mind went to evil shadowgast

75 notes · View notes

the-fluff-piece · 1 year

Note

Hello!

First of all, thank you for the open requests!

It's my first time participating in something like this, so I'm a little excited 🤭 May I ask about such a request: 15 writing a love letter with a confession + heartwarming + Sabo?

Thank you in advance! I wish you inspiration and I will wait for your result!

Hello dear Anon, thank you for your request! Atually my requests are always open, so feel free to send something in when you have something ❤

This is part of my follower milestone event

If you like this story also check out my masterlist

Here's

Burn before reading

You've been in the revolutionary army for quite some time and you've become quite close friends with Koala and Sabo.

So naturally, when Sabo is locking himself in his room and doesn't come out, you try to reach out to him.

"It smells like smoke..." Koala's nose was twitching in annoyance.

"I've tried everything in my power to get him to open the door, if he continues to be this stubborn I'll kick down the door and drag him out." She kicked into the air to reinforce her point.

"Your turn" she said and ran off to probably beat up a training dummy.

You stood in front of Sabo's door and tried to listen - nothing. You knocked on the door.

"Go away" his muffled voice could be heard through the wooden door.

"Sabo, it's y/n. What's the matter?" You shouted.

"Oh y/n! So nice of you to be here, but please go, I am ok" he politely and suspiciously cheerfully answered.

This man was so stubborn and hot headed, yet so cute and kind. It was what made him both incredibly adorable and annoying to work with. With a sigh, you unpacked your lock picks to open the door. With a soft click, the door swung open. A strong smell of burnt paper greeted you. Sabo sat at the desk, his hair messy and a charred quill in his hand, looking at you as if you were a monster. Rests of burnt sheets were lying around all over the floor and embers were in the air.

"Sabo, what are you doing?" You asked as you picked up one of the sheets, seeing only fractions of readable words on the page: dear....I lo.....ou....

Too late, Sabo dove towards you to snatch it out of your hand.

"You're not supposed to see that!" He shoved the paper into one of his pockets.

"This is secret!" He pouted. How can a man who beats people with a burning steel pipe look so cute all the time? Only than you noticed his puffy eyes.

"Have you been crying?" You laid your hand on his cheek. "You know I am always there if you need me" you assured.

"I know, you're always so kind to me!" His eyes got wet again and he put his hand over yours, pressing it against his hot cheek.

You looked around the papers for clues what's going on and you spotted a larger piece of paper. He looked alarmed, but didn't move.

"May I?" You asked cautiously.

He nodded and looked away.

"Dear....I need to tell you....always...sorry" you read out loud.

"What are you trying to write?" You asked, trying to get to the bottom of this. "And why are they burnt?"

"I'm trying to write a letter, but I'm so nervous I keep burning the paper" he admitted, his face red. A small flame was already appearing on his shoulder.

"You poor thing!" You exclaimed, immediately regretting your outburst as his cheeks puffed in shame. "How about you tell me what to write and I write it down for you?" You offered. Now, Sabo's face was burning. Literally.

"I uhm...I don't know! Uhm..." he mumbled. You sat down on the desk, took up the rest of the quill and some ink and got into position to write on a fresh sheet.

Sabo backed into a corner and became a small fire hazard. Without looking at you, he recited with a shaky voice:

"Dear Y/n,

I need to tell you some things." He stopped, two round puppy eyes looking at you. A letter for you? No wonder he was so nervous. You dutifully wrote down his words and waited for more.

"I have been on your last mission. I burnt down the target, I just wanted to keep you safe. I was always near you and didn't say anything." He looked to the floor, ashamed. Rightfully so. You were supposed to infiltrate a supposed black market weapons dealer, but the house and all evidence in it was burnt to a crisp before you could retrieve anything. That was very annoying. You wrote it down, keeping the anger out of your face as best as you could. That stupid hot head!

"I uhm...I...." he stuttered. "I did it because I lo....I uhm...keep you safe...because I..." he swallowed audibly and caught on fire.

Trying to be as calm as possible, you told him: "it wasn't a good thing, but I know you didn't do it on purpose. I know you want to keep me safe and I appreciate that. But don't do any covert missions in the future, ok?"

The flame went out and Sabo approached you, slowly and carefully.

"You're so kind and sweet! That's why I'm ... I am...I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU!" It burst out of him, loudly. He smiled, relieved, and took your hand. "I love you so much, you're my best friend and my everything. I will always be there for your and always protect you" the words bubbled out of him as he squeezed your hand tightly. "Always." He reinforced his promise and kissed your hand. You let him and gave him a warm smile.

"Really?" You asked, just to hear him say it again.

"Yes, I love you! I wanted to write a poem for you but..." his eyes wandered about.

"I love you, too" you whispered.

He closed his eyes, leaning in for a kiss. You did the same and for a brief moment, your lips touched. He froze and drew back.

Sabo was now beaming with excitement and joy - before literally bursting into flames and rushing out of the window with a "WOOHOOOOO" as you watched him make the rounds around the headquarter, screaming on top of his lungs how happy he was.

Koala appeared in the door, heaving.

"What the...?" She said pointing at Sabo's display outside.

"And what the...?" She repeated, picking up the burnt paper. You snatched the letter you were writing for Sabo from the desk and put it in your pocket.

"That's a secret" you told her, strolling out. You would whip his ass for that personally. From now on, you were the one taking care of your little hot head.

---------

Note: I hope you liked it, since I don't write him so often I am not as trained in his character than others. I just love that whenever he appears, he is always unconditionally helping Luffy, even if it means burning down everything. He is such a cinnamon roll, I want to cuddle him all day 🥺

#one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #op sabo #sabo #revolutionary sabo #sabo x reader #sabo x you #sabo x y/n #one piece sabo #one piece fanfic #odp follower event

54 notes · View notes

chatterbox-73 · 1 year

Text

Twelve days of Smutcember 2022.

Day 5 - Roasty Toasty.

Dabi/Toya Todoroki x Reader

This story is a smut story for Smutcember, I’ll be writing more characters x reader one shots for Smutcember and if you want to see a character please let me know...

finally I think it’s important to note, I might be a person who celebrates Christmas, however I know not everyone does so I won’t/try not to mention or reference any particular festive holiday in these one shots, out of respect for everyone.

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

Summary: you know everything about everyone and your not afraid to share it with the world, however you decide on holding on to a certain Patchwork man’s secret, in exchange for something a little more personal.

Word count: 1.4k

CW: blackmailing, dub-con, nudity, photographs, handjob, violence, murder and swearing.

Watch the charred bodies twitch as it let out on last gargled groan before is stopped moving, the smell of the burnt flesh, the crackle of flesh and bones, the wheeze of blood trickling out of cracks in the burnt corpse made you sick, so sick in fact you throw up. “Oh no… to much to handle” chuckles the man standing over the burning body, the man… Dabi… had been following you for the past three weeks, he had found himself quite intrigued by you, but he was the only one to take an interest in you, a lot of people had taken quite an interest in you, including the league, on tomura’s instructions he was to find and bring you to the league willing. You weren’t anything special, you were actually really average, however you ran a ‘gossip’ blog of sorts, you posted all kinds of stories and conspiracy theories about the heroes and villains, which normally wouldn’t have been of any value, but all your ‘conspiracy’ and ‘stories’ were spot on and most of the time even had evidence to back it up, your latest story covered stain and his backstory in great depth, it was a heart warming and emotional story that led more villains to the league and turned more of society against the heroes, it also didn’t help that you had released a story along side the other about three anonymous kids from UA who were the ones to actually take down the ‘Hero Killer’ and that one of those kids had actually intended to kill the ‘Hero Killer’, the damning article was titled ‘Teaching Self-Righteousness and Power-Abuse’, Dabi believed it to be a true masterpiece, his favourite part of the story was when you really tore into the no.2 hero, Endeavor.

“You… I know you… you’re the subject of my next article” you wiped your mouth and stood on shaky legs, “oh? I hope it’s nothing bad” he raised a brow and you smiled before moving away from the awful smelling body, “it won’t now… do you usually save damsels in distress or am I just lucky” you dusted any ash off you and the patchwork man chuckled, “no if you weren’t any use I’ve let you die… but then again I also can’t stand heroes so maybe I would’ve killed the both of ya” he smirked and you shook your head as you snickered, “thanks a lot, so what exactly do you want?” You began to walk out of the ally and down the empty street, Dabi followed after you. “I want you to not post the article on me… just yet… and I also want you to come with me to met the league” Dabi stepped in front of you, effectively stopping you in your tracks, “now why would I do that?” You sighed and the man laughed out, “you obviously don’t value your life very much… do you?” He smiled as he grabbed you shoulders, you smiled back at the man before pulling out of his grip and continued on walking, “you’re right, I don’t value my life at all actually, but you should realise I don’t work for free… so what am I getting out of all this?” You question as you got to your ran down apartment building, walking in you allowed the man to follow you all the way up to your apartment.

“What are you looking for?” He asked as he took a seat on your couch, you sat down on your counter top, “for not releasing the article on you and your family drama… I want to get a very up close and… personal… view on the damage…” you smirked and took a deep breath, “…I also want to meet the big boss… not Shigaraki Tomura… ‘All For One’ and his right hand man, The ‘Doctor’” you hummed and Dabi blinked at you for a moment, he’d only been apart of the league for a month and a half, and he couldn’t recall ever hearing anything about a ‘Doctor’… he knew he couldn’t agree to those terms but he also couldn’t come back with nothing, “up close and personal, what you want the full Monty…?” He chuckled and you kept a straight face as to tell him you weren’t joking, you wanted to see it all and maybe get some photos of the extent of the damage, “it’s fine if you can’t do it… but just know that I’ll post the article if you don’t” you shrugged and he smirked wide, “blackmail is a good look on you… but your not being very smart, you can’t blackmail a killer… who’d post your little article then” he leaned back on the couch and you couldn’t help but doubt over in hysterical laughter, “why thank you… but you’re quite wrong, that article your so desperately trying to stop for getting out is scheduled to post in a weeks time… and I’m the only one who can stop it, so kill me if you want but know the world will know all about your little secret… Todoroki Toya” you grind so wide your cheeks ached, Dabi’s smile disappeared in a mere second and was replaced with a nasty scowl. “You sneaky little bitch!” Dabi stood to his feet and took a couple long strides toward you, “woah now, watch out… you might get me all excited, talking like that” you chuckled and pressed your legs together, Dabi rolled his eyes and grabbed a hold of your face, “alright here’s how this is going to work… I’ll give you full access to my body, for you to not post that article until I say and you’ll come with me to meet the league, then you can ask Shigaraki to meet the big boss… you got that?” He leaned into your face and you nodded as best as you could with his hand gripping your face, “alright, that’s fair I suppose… get stripping while I get my camera” you told the man as you pulled away and walked off to your study.

Dabi shrugged off his jacket and pulled off his shirt, he stood in front of you half naked, you looked him up and down, you take picture after picture of his burnt and scarred chest, back and arms, “pants now” you said nonchalantly and the man puffed out a laugh, “I’m not wearing underwear” he smirked, you looked up from your camera with a confused expression, “and…? Did we not agree to everything on display…?” You tilted your head, “yeah, but not photos of my junk… I’d rather not let the whole of japan see my penis in all its glory” the man chuckled as he unbuckled his pants and you nodded slowly, “don’t worry, I’ll blur out your penis, only I will have the pleasure of seeing your man meat” you smiled and Dabi mirrored your smile, he pulled off his pants and watched as you snapped several photos of his legs, torso, back, face and a full front and back shot, “you’re a little pervert, ain’t you?” He smirked and walked up to you, you looked up for your camera and smiled, “of course, why else would I get a good looking man to strip down naked in front of me” you rested a hand on his chest, “your hand’s cold” he hummed and reached up to grab your wrist, “and your body is extremely hot” you leaned into the patchwork man, placing your other hand on his shoulder.

Dabi leaned down to your ear “not too hot to handle…?” He whispered and kissed the tip of your ear, he then slowly moved your hand down his chest to his crotch, your fingers traced his scars and tangled in his unkept bush before wrapping around his hardening member, “I like hot and heavy” you whispered against his neck as you began pumping him, Dabi rested some of his weight on you as he groaned at cold softness of your hand, “ugh fuck…” he held your body tightly against him, he pressed his face into your neck and inhaled deeply, “you smell like heaven itself, little angel” his grip tightened ever so slightly and his body stiffened before his body suddenly fell limp on you, the both of you fell to the ground and you were trapped under Dabi’s weight. “Sorry about that angel” Dabi chuckled as he started to get off you, however you stopped him by wrapping your arms around his neck and settling your leg around his hips, “no need to be sorry, I’m all nice and Roasty Toasty… now why don’t you heat up my insides” you moaned as you ground your hips into him, “don’t threat me with a good time, angel… you might regret” he chuckled and ground harder into your clothes crotch.

Day 4: cold shoulder - Jean Kirsten

Day 6: Icy Hot Gaze - Satoru Gojo

Smutcember masterlist.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fem!reader #dabi my hero academia #dabi x reader #dabi todoroki #bnha dabi #Dabi x reader smut #toya todoroki #toya x reader #Toya mha #Toya todoroki x reader smut #todoroki x reader

152 notes · View notes

atsadi-shenanigans · 12 days

Text

Feeding Alligators 56 - This Bitch

Because I am incapable of cross-posting during the middle of the week, here's Wednesday's chapter! Ch. 57 coming out tomorrow: Let the Bodies Hit the Floor.

You meet the Absolute.

On AO3.

As Wyll says, the rain ends just about as fast as it started. Y’all head out again, up the hill, when y’all run into another troupe of goblins with a short, purple dude tied up to a spinning windmill. Little dude hollers all the way up, and all the way down.

You’re still drained, so when you catch Karlach clucking her tongue at the little dude’s predicament, you nudge her into talking to the goblins. She basically threatens to crush their skulls between her hands—she leans in all close and heat pours off her and huh, that does something for you.

The goblins leave the little dude—Wullbren—who’s looking for his friend. He lets y’all have his pack in thanks for the rescue. Still no jewelry (you been avoiding looking at Astarion since the shed; it’s horrifying how easy it is to fall back into a friendly pattern with him).

It’s quiet up to the last bridge. Some kinda building rises in a crag through the hill beyond. The brush is burnt and charred, little pockets of embers still gather at the bases of blackened trees. Shitty, shoddy ramparts have been thrown up in that crag gap, and goblins move atop them. They ain’t alone.”

“Are those wargs?” you say. Fuckers look like some kinda hyena-bear mix (what would a half Man-Wolf, half ogre even look like).

Gale shoots you a look. “How do you know what a warg is?”

Same way you know about elves, magic, goblins, and fucking ogres.

“We got stories,” you say. “Made up stories, for us. But here…”

The last part said with a gesture to the ramparts.

Gale’s fingers twitch again. Since he can’t whip out an inkpot and a scroll right here, he inhales, clasps his hands, and says, “I rather strongly request another information session when we have the chance.”

Man wants stories.

“If we ain’t all dead, sure,” you say.

This whole thing might be over by tonight. Or soonish, if Mr. Healer ain’t dead. And after that…

After that, you’re stuck here.

The thought twists your stomach. You look at the group again. All of them with their own lives. Two of them want nothing to do with you (you try not to acknowledge the white fluff outta the corner of your eye). Shadowheart seems nice enough eventually, but she still has her own secret shit going on. Karlach is fresh outta the hells, so your best bet is still likely Wyll or Gale. And you can be of more use to Gale, you think. Wyll seems friendly and heroic, and you doubt he’d leave your ass in a ditch. But Gale is hungry for knowledge (you recognize that look) and you can leverage that.

…maybe he needs a housekeeper? You could do that.

Later. This is all later. Flailing around about it now ain’t gonna help a damned thing.

For now, y’all gotta get past the guard post of goblins.

“Hey Karlach, you wanna go scare our way in again?”

She grins all mean and smacks her fist into her palm. “Aces.”

***

She does, in fact, scare y’all in. Leaves one of the goblins wearing a smear of warg shit all over his face—he started it, so you don’t feel that bad. The trail is muddy, everything smells like acrid piss, and then a fucking voice shoots down outta the sky to thunderclap inside your skull.

It knocks you to your knees. Overwhelming pressure shoves you down. Squeezes your skull. You try to push up (Lae’zel got you to three push ups before she gave up on you), but a new wave comes crashing down and tries to shove your face into the dirt.

Someone curses behind you. The crew is down, too. What—

A voice. Loud. Consuming. A woman? She’s saying something, but you’re seeing flashes of something, of people?

The Absolute, you realize. You know it, like you know your own name or you know you got ten toes. This is the Absolute calling to you, pulling you, forcing you.

She bursts open your head like stepping on a grape. Bursts the others, and you can feel them, too. Stranger thoughts, alien ones.

Mostly panic. This is it. It’s got you. A ghaik enslavement. A foreign goddess. No, no gods not again not again you got away from him—

Your mother standing over you, you all half-naked and crouched on the cement floor with everybody watching, everybody knowing and you grovel outright, the shame clogging your throat, blinding your eyes—

The rage snaps like a trigger. Like an eruption. Hot fury blasts up, shattering fear and panic in a raw, churning plume blowing up the surrounding mental landscape.

No.

Fuck that bitch and fuck them all, you’ll kill them, every last one of them and they ain’t gonna get you, not ever again, you will burn the farmstead to fucking ashes and then burn those ashes to fucking powder—

“Stop!”

A red light blasts through the crushing torment. Cuts through your rage—a flash in the periphery, startled, wary—and the new voice barrels into the Absolute. The pressure clears, the voice whispering before it cuts off completely.

You’re on the ground again. Arms shaking, knees knocking. You take some unsteady breaths and sit up as something flies outta Shadowheart’s bag to plop into your hand.

The fuck?

“Uh,” you say.

But when you turn, you’re getting weird looks. Lae’zel wears pure suspicion, laser-focused on Shadowheart. Who seems torn about something, though she keeps glancing to the spiky ball now in your hands. But the others…

Gale swallows. Blinks something down. “I believe we’ve just met this new goddess, then.”

Fucking bitch pig. Fucking asshole bitch pig.

“And we were saved by a relic of my people,” Lae’zel says, staring daggers at the back of Shadowheart’s skull.

The cleric stiffens.

But Gale cuts between them, as he’s low-key been doing the whole time. “Whatever it is, it just saved us from a psychic bombardment. We must be getting close to this Absolute, and its power will only grow stronger as we do. I have a grave suspicion that without that artifact, we’d be helpless as babes. Best put aside our difference before we sprout full ceremorphosis tentacles, yes?”

Both women stand there a moment. Only once something moves at Shadowheart’s side do you notice she’d grabbed the handle of her mace.

“Agreed,” she says. Gives a mean girl head tilt to Lae’zel. “Or are the gith so proud and blinded as to throw themselves unarmed at their enemy?”

If Lae’zel glared at you like that, your skin’d peel right off. She hisses (good god, your primate brain don’t like that at all) and nods. Once.

“Good. Now,” Gale says. “There’s a goblin camp and perhaps our salvation just ahead. Shall we?”

You let them all settle and set off again. You try to give the spiky ball back to Shadowheart, but she catches Lae’zel watching her like a dingo on a human baby, and shakes her head.

“It came to you,” she says. “You keep it.”

An uninvolved third party. Cause that’s what you wanna be right now.

You pull out your pack to shove the thing in there—the fuck is it? A toy? A music box? A puzzle to summon skin-flaying BDSM demons?

Wyll sidles up as you’re cinching the pack shut again. He’s got something soft in his face when he looks at you.

It immediately lifts your hackles.

“Was that your mother?” he says.

Your mind blanks. Everything goes flat and still, because this? This ain’t happening.

(Your brains were connected.)

Those memories are your own, private shit show and you don’t share.

(They saw.)

You ain’t never told Sasha all of it.

(They saw.)

You ain’t never told any therapist all of it.

(NO.)

“Who was what?” you say.

Karlach stares, too. Her eyebrows crunch together.

“That vision. Or memory,” Wyll says. “I…I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”

Oh, you seen this before. Especially in them early days, when you’d be telling some story and kinda laughing about it, but then you’d look over and catch that face, right there. The veiled horror. The goddamn sympathy. The look of somebody who found a mangy, broken stray on the side of the road, only this dog’s too mean and it keeps trying to bite.

The fuck they’re gonna look at you like that.

You keep your expression loose, your own brow slightly wrinkled—totally in puzzlement and not at all in panic and terror.

“What vision?” you say. “I saw them three people that voice was all attached to? Them fucking…disciples or whatever?”

How much did they see? You felt Lae’zel’s queasy dread, the utter failure that swallowed her when that seemed the end.

Wyll pauses. He’s gonna say something. You know it. But then he just folds whatever it was back underneath a rueful smile. “It must have been part of the attack, then. Think nothing of it.”

And you almost believe him. The way he relaxes. The softness of his eyes. It’s all Wyll, dashing and kind.

But you didn’t get out by believing, and part of you whispers: he knows, they all do, fuck, fuck.

You can’t show that, though. You’re gonna brazen it out come hell or high water.

“Druid rescue, huh?” you say.

And that gets Karlach going again, too. They shuffle off after the others, and you sling your pack up over your shoulders.

You know he’s still standing there. Hasn’t moved or said nothing. But you can feel him watching, so you summon your best bored face (which you been told by a lot of people it looks extra bitchy) and turn.

You don’t say nothing, either. Just watch him watching you. Raise one eyebrow.

Astarion looks…strange. Maybe that’s just his version of thoughtful. It ain’t Bitch or Gripe or Flirt. You ain’t even sure he knows he’s doing it. There’s something different in it, different than all the other times he’s ever looked at you.

He still don’t say a goddamn word. Finally, you lift your arm in an “after you” gesture, and his face buttons back up. He sets off after the others.

And that is entirely too much being perceived for you. Makes your damn skin crawl.

#feeding alligators fic #these two shitheads #astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #slow burn #demisexual tav #plus size tav #it's an isekai #the disclosure arc

7 notes · View notes

alienguts · 1 year

Text

Burn (Ash Williams x f!Reader)

Summary: Ash tries to make dinner for Y/N. Extra emphasis on tries.

Warnings: none

Request?: No

A/N: This one's a little short but that's okay.

Leaving Ash alone in the kitchen was a disaster waiting to happen, and Y/N found that out the hard way. Having her entire apartment building evacuated because he’d managed to set the fire alarm off with a couple of slices of bacon was enough to ban him from using anything other than the microwave for life. He was just trying to help and take some of her workload off her, but she would rather have edible food that didn’t make the fire alarm blare.

After that incident, it was decided that Y/N would take care of the cooking and Ash would do the dishes afterwards. Ash didn’t always follow that and it just so happened that on a rare occasion that he was off work while Y/N was out, he would try to surprise her with a meal he cooked himself. Or at least tried to cook.

Luckily, Y/N had gotten home before the smoke detector woke up, but to an apartment full of steam and the distinctive smell of burnt beef. She sighed as she took her coat off and hung it up before making her way to the kitchen. Ash was standing at the stove, trying to fry two steaks in a pan that was too small, completely oblivious to the disaster waiting to happen.

“Hey, baby,” he said to Y/N as she grabbed a towel and stretched up to waft it against the smoke detector. “I made dinner.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Y/N said and reached around Ash to turn the burner off. Steam billowed off the pan and she was glad to see that Ash was holding it with his right hand, saving her from doing any first aid. “I don’t think we can eat it, though.”

“Why not?” Ash asked, moving away from the stove and letting her take the pan from him. “You like your steak well done, right?”

“Well done and charred are not the same thing, honey.” Y/N set the pan aside and turned around to face Ash. “Ash, what did I tell you about cooking?”

“Hey, I’m not as bad a cook as you think I am,” Ash said, his voice taking on a slightly defensive tone. “I want to get better at it, and I can’t do that if you won’t let me.”

Y/N sighed and reached up to take Ash’s face in her hands, her skin still warm from moving the pan.

“I know you want to help and learn but you could at least let me teach you,” she said gently. “And not almost start a fire in the kitchen while I’m out.”

Ash let his face lean into her touch before stepping forward to wrap his arms around her. “I just wanted to do something nice for you,” he said. “You always work so hard.”

“You don’t need to do anything nice for me, just not destroying my kitchen or getting me evicted is enough,” Y/N said as Ash rested his head on her shoulder. “What’s the occasion, anyway? There’s been nothing going on recently.”

“Well, I did forget Valentine’s Day.”

“Ash, that was a month ago, I don’t care about that anymore.”

“I still wanted to do something special,” Ash said, his voice muffled by Y/N’s shoulder. “They told me those were the best steaks in the store, I got a huge discount on them.”

“We could always order in,” Y/N suggested as she nudged his head off of her. “I got paid so we can afford it.”

“No, I’ll pay,” he said firmly. “If we’re gonna make this to be like a date, I should pay. I’m the man, after all.”

“But you spent the last of your paycheck on those steaks, Mr Man,” Y/N teased. She giggled when Ash visibly deflated, remembering that he was, in fact now, broke.

“Damn, guess you will have to pay then,” he said as he let Y/N guide him over to the sofa so they could sit down together.

“Don’t worry, honey, your manly ego will recover,” Y/N said and cuddled up to him. “And I’ll help you the next time you want to cook something, you don’t need to do it yourself.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like you’re waiting on me, that’s all.”

“I understand completely, but I would need a functioning kitchen in order to do that.”

“So you’re not mad that I burned dinner?” Ash asked sheepishly.

Y/N tipped her head up and leaned in to softly kiss him. He returned her kiss, feeling her warm face against his, their noses brushing against one another as he pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. She broke away for air briefly before letting him kiss her again and again as he stroked her back and she ran her fingers through his hair.

“I’ll take that as you not being mad,” he mumbled against her mouth before she fully pulled away from him, still seated on his lap.

“Of course not,” Y/N said and stroked his cheek with her fingers. “I could never be mad at you for wanting to help, you know that.”

Ash smiled warmly at her before leaving one last kiss on her lips.

“So, what’re we gonna eat tonight? Lady’s choice.”

#ash williams x reader #ash williams x you #ash williams imagine #evil dead x reader #evil dead x you #evil dead imagine #horror x reader #horror x you #x reader #x you #reader insert #female reader #*my writing

96 notes · View notes

esther-dot · 1 year

Note

"Evil King Harren had walled himself up inside, so Aegon unleashed his dragons and turned the castle into a pyre."- Arya(ACOK IV).

"Aerys meant to have the greatest funeral pyre of them all. Though if truth be told, I do not believe he truly expected to die. Like Aerion Brightfire before him, Aerys thought the fire would transform him . . . that he would rise again, reborn as a dragon, and turn all his enemies to ash."- Jaime(ASOS V).

Guess who gonna follow their footsteps.

"And I am Daenerys Stormborn, Daenerys of House Targaryen, of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel and old Valyria before them. I am the dragon's daughter."- Dany(AGOT IX).

Go Dany, Daddy will be so proud of you.

There’s a reason why a lot of BNFs now admit she will! It isn’t something D&D did for lolz. 😂 To me one of the big “hold on a sec” moments was reading that about Aerys:

The traitors want my city, I heard him tell Rossart, but I'll give them naught but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat. The Targaryens never bury their dead, they burn them. Aerys meant to have the greatest funeral pyre of them all. Though if truth be told, I do not believe he truly expected to die. Like Aerion Brightfire before him, Aerys thought the fire would transform him . . . that he would rise again, reborn as a dragon, and turn all his enemies to ash. (ASOS, Jaime V)

After Martin wrote this about Dany:

When the fire died at last and the ground became cool enough to walk upon, Ser Jorah Mormont found her amidst the ashes, surrounded by blackened logs and bits of glowing ember and the burnt bones of man and woman and stallion. She was naked, covered with soot, her clothes turned to ash, her beautiful hair all crisped away … yet she was unhurt. (AGOT, Daenerys X)

It's a little matchy-matchy, and then we have all this stuff about ruling over ashes/burnt bones:

The skulls of dead dragons looked down from its walls. Upon a towering barbed throne sat an old man in rich robes, an old man with dark eyes and long silver-grey hair. "Let him be king over charred bones and cooked meat," he said to a man below him. "Let him be the king of ashes." Drogon shrieked, his claws digging through silk and skin, but the king on his throne never heard, and Dany moved on. (ACOK, Daenerys IV)

Which is followed by Drogon turning his home into ashes and burnt bones:

Drogon made his lair inside a shallow cave. He had dwelt there for some time, Dany had realized when she first saw the hill. The air smelled of ash, every rock and tree in sight was scorched and blackened, the ground strewn with burned and broken bones, yet it had been home to him.Dany knew the lure of home. (ADWD, Daenerys X)

It's almost like it's leading somewhere....

#anti daenerys #dot chat

33 notes · View notes

lets-get-kraken-boys · 2 years

Note

HAWKS AND DABI WERE SO HOT IN THE NEWEST EPISODE

not gonna lie hawks ”angry” face was kinda like yandere🫣

OMFG YES THEY WERE!!! I swear to God I was drooling the whole time watching it, salivating over pissed off Dabi. 🤤 THAT IS OUR SEXY MAN RIGHT THERE, BABES! We truly won with this season.

Can you imagine the two of them fighting like that over you??? Ho my god, the thought has got me positively melting in my SEAT! 🥵 Their snide comments and bickering doesn't take long to become a literal physical fight between their quirks. They will be taking strikes at each other and saying the most venomous, hateful things about the other. How do they not run out of rude remarks??? One is nearly getting his head cut off and the other is narrowly escaping getting charred to a burnt pile of ash, but they are still calling the other "too slow" or they have "shitty aim for a pro hero/villain".

Them knowing you're stressed because of them fighting, you being both worried about each man and the civilians that could hurt during their brawl, but your eyes on makes them feel like they're on Cloud 9. It's a tingly feeling, your attention and love; a feeling that they cannot get enough of. And that addiction to it only makes them believe that the scars, burns, blood-shed, and calamity to the city and its people are totally worth it...

I am dangerously in love with their psycho sides.

HELL YES IT WAS YANDERE! I want him to look at me like that ALL THE TIME, anything to see that almost sadistic spark in his eye. Him slaughtering in your honor, everything he does is for your "benefit" (we can debate whether it is to protect you from the forces of evil or more for his enjoyment and sanity--but, either way, he is going to hurt people that get close to you). Wow that is a crazy idea. I love it.

With Love,

Kraken 🐙

84 notes · View notes

archangelsunited · 10 months

Text

WIP on the Correct Day.

Tagging: @kookaburra1701@orfeoarte@gilgamish@thana-topsy@changelingsandothernonsense@tallmatcha@snippetsrus@rainpebble3@rhiannon1199@inquisition-dragonborn@the-storytellers-seer@thequeenofthewinter@elfinismsarts@paraparadigm@friend-of-giants@saltymaplesyrup@weirdponytail@ms-katonic-of-tamriel@mareenavee

Little something I cooked up so I would cook something else.

“Look, I’m just saying that crossing the border in the year of your divines 201, might not be the best idea.” You stooped down to pull at the laces of your boots. Your husband, six and a half feet of dark green orc, is staring at your backside again. It is fascinating how the love of a big ass will travel across time, space, and culture.

“And I’m just saying, its none of your business how I earn my money.” You turned to look at his face, which was a bit blank. He had been upset since you had taken the job as a courier. Something something, stronghold, something something, stay in the kitchen. You stopped paying attention after he brought up the word “female”. You didn’t have a dick in this life, which was a bit disappointing, but the chest was an improvement. Sex was fantastic, multiple orgasms for the win.

“Look, I don’t care if you’re selling Falmer Blood Elixir, or if you’re robbing priests at knife point.”

“Neither of those.” He rolled his eyes at you.

“I CARE about you being near the border of Skyrim and Cyrodill this year.” You pulled on the stupid looking cap that completed the look.

He held up his hand. “I swear on the name of my father, I won’t go near the border.”

You were pretty sure he was lying, since the last time he swore on the name of his father he had cut the man’s head off with an ax. Still, if he was determined to get himself killed, there wasn’t much you could do to stop him.

“Alright, then. I’m going to Dawnstar, I’ll meet you in Whiterun in a few months, yeah?” You tried to drink in the details of his face. The broken tusk, the scar over his nose- it was unbearably precious to you.

He reached forward, putting a big hand behind your head. He pressed his forehead against yours. His breath was heavy in your face and it made all the blood in your body rush to your face. You placed your hands on the sides of his neck. Your fingers brushed the muscles along his spine.

“Ozor, I am serious.”

His hands wrapped around your waist, squeezing slightly.

“I’ll see you in Whiterun, then you can ride my face.”

You sighed. That was going to be the best you were going to get.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Ozor woke with a crick in his back and the taste of blood on his tongue. Someone had taken the Amulet of Mara from around his neck. His hands were bound.

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake.”

Ozar groaned. He had a fleeting thought to listen to his wife more.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

You were on your third day wandering around Whiterun when someone spots a dragon. You took that as your cue to get the hell out of dodge, but the guards have already locked down the city.

“Look,” you said to the guard at the gate. “I’m a lollygagger. I have nothing to do, and no coin with which to do nothing with. The best thing you could do- no, your DUTY to your Hold is to let me get eaten by a dragon.”

“Aye, most likely.” The guard nodded in agreement. “But if the Jarl says the gate stays shut, then the gate stays shut. But I’ll take your offer to stand as dragon bait under advisement.”

You were about to argue some more, and the guard was about to let you. He was as bored as you were, when the gate creaks open, just a smidge, and an orc stumbles through. He’s charred, missing a bit of one tusk, and a bit of his hair is burnt off.

He looked suspiciously like your husband.

He was wearing some blue armor that is barely strapped on to his chest, and some pants that look about twelve inches too short.

“You, hey you.” Your voice wass almost cracking with excitement, or would be cracking. “You ran right into that-”

“You had to turn up at the gate?” Your husband asked. “You had to turn up at the gate, so you could personally deliver the I-told-you-so? And how the fuck did you know-”

Ozar gave a rasping cough, then bent double.

“It doesn’t matter how I knew.” You said, with the air of someone who was going to be thoroughly fucked (hopefully, it had been a dry bit of time. You’d been saving the coin for a private room when he got there). “What matters is you didn’t listen to me.”

Ozar let his weight fall on you completely.

#skyrim #reader fanfic #wip wendsday

14 notes · View notes

stitchthesewords · 2 years

Note

hand-holding 12 for Rift <3 👀👀 You know I'm a sucker for some possessive mfs

Also maybe... hugs 16 your choice <3

I am also a sucker for some possessive mfs and lightly angst human contact. You've fed me

If any wants to send in their own, Prompt List Here.

Prompt – Handholding 12: Possessive Handholding

Getting separate by Ren’s court was not the best thing they’d ever done; Scar would admit it. There were no weapons in sight, and they were in the middle of town, however, so he was willing to let it slide this once. Grian was on the other side of the road, staring up at Cleo on their horse and Mumbo was only a foot away from Scar, so it wasn’t like they were completely separated, either. Still – not exactly ideal.

“Good evening, Scar!” Martyn said. He hopped off his horse, another barrier between the two of them and Grian, and made his way into Scar’s personal bubble. The man had gusto; Scar would give him that.

The elf leaned back slightly, looking at Martyn down his nose. “Evening,” he said.

“And what are you fine gentlemen doing out at this time of night!” Martyn said. His gaze travelled to the shop they’d caught Grian slipping out of, and Scar’s gaze followed. Well, Grian’s distraction had worked! That was good. Scar’s face broke out into a grin.

“Ah, well, you know. Out for a walk,” he said. A walk that happened to be near Hermit Town’s bank, of course. The diamonds from their little exchange sat quite nicely in his money bag.

“A walk! Yes, oh, of course. The Vampire, I always forget,” Martyn replied. His gaze went to Mumbo, who was looking at the entire court with disdain. “I’d hate for a pretty face to burn up in the sunlight.”

That caught Mumbo’s attention, but he clearly didn’t properly hear what Martyn had said, because he looked to Scar, confused. Scar’s shoulders raised slightly, and he took a step to be right next to Mumbo and took his hand. “Yes! Would be a shame if he were to get a sunburn, you know,” he said. The smile was still on his face, but his slightly sharpened teeth glinted in the moonlight. Mumbo didn’t have it in him to ask what was going on because he was too busy staring at where Scar’s fingers entwined with his claws.

“A sunburn? Scar it’s nighttime – and I put on sunblock before we left-“ Mumbo said, sounding deeply confused.

Scar squeezed his hand a little tighter but didn’t actually explain what was going on. “Well – you know, we really should get going! It is late after all-“ he said, tugging Mumbo along with him. The taller man stumbled and followed, his confused expression going from the back of Scar’s head to Martyn’s face to Grian working on untangling himself from Cleo’s cornering.

Martyn’s eyes narrowed but he looked over to Cleo and with a frustrated sigh, said, “Have a good night then, Scar.”

Prompt – Hugs 16: ‘Not Wanting To Let Go’ Hugs

Grian scrambled to hold onto the back of Mumbo’s dress shirt, feeling his talons rip the cloth under his hand but not really caring. His wings flapping wildly behind him and Mumbo sputtered, saying something to Grian that wasn’t really processing in his bird brain.

The air smelled awful. Burnt and metallic. Grian was pretty sure this is what blood on fire would smell like. The charred remains of a project Mumbo had been working on sat in the yard on the vault, its smoke trailing up into the sky. Grian’s breathing was heavy but still quick as he practically climbed Mumbo, both of them covered in ash and dirt and soot from the explosion.

Mumbo’s claws hands found their way onto Grian’s back and neck, scratching lightly, and eventually the gears in Grian’s brain started turning enough to hear Mumbo saying ‘We’re okay’ over and over, softly. Grian took in a deeper breath and he scrambled again, just slightly, as he felt Mumbo moving.

“’m just sitting on the ground,” he muttered. Sure enough, Grian felt Mumbo sit and adjust how Grian had positioned himself so that it was more comfortable for both of them.

Grian clutched the fabric in his hands a little tighter, hear it rip, before letting go and going to pull away.

“No – no,” Mumbo said, his own grip on Grian tightening. His arm brushed Grian’s wing. “Just – just. Let’s just stay here for a moment.”

Grian couldn’t – wouldn’t – argue with that.

#Redscape #Grumbo #Mumscarian #Hermitshipping #Nothing is super overt but I did write both of these with it being post-getting together in mind so jic #Atherix #Asks #Friends #Rift AU #Mumscarian Rift AU #Stitch's Writing

48 notes · View notes

the-story-forge · 9 months

Text

⚠️Warning this story has extreme graphic adult content, viewer discretion is advised! ⚠

Chapter 6 - The Wind

Eric heard the scream from the street, he pulled his mask up over his face and ran to the fire escape.

"Shit," The Sparrow saw the source of the scream. Rose had been grabbed by The White Dragon and thrown into a van driving away. He dove and rolled onto the sidewalk chasing after the van as best as he could.

But The Sparrow was not superhuman as much as he believed he was. He couldn't keep up with the van no matter how fast he ran after them. He shouldn't have let this happen. The Sparrow tripped and fell on the ground, pain was back in his legs.

"Fuck!" He screamed punching the ground.

———

Hands pressed against the windows, flames burnt the bodies to a crisp, screams of the trainees rang out in Eric’s ears more than the howling of the wind.

He dropped the can of gasoline at his feet and watched as the temple he had called home for a decade burnt away to nothing.

The trainees and masters inside let out more screams than the screams stopped, looking through the windows he saw the black charred bodies fall onto the floor and it burned into his mind brighter than the fire in front of him. The temple toppled in on itself and crackled.

Eric heard a cough behind him and turned.

“We should have left you on the street where you belong, your damn parents who left you for dead, we took you in and you repay the family with blood?” His master mocked him through pained teeth.

“But you were selfish, you saw the potential and wanted more so you took and took until there was nothing left but then you tried taking one last time and got your hand slapped away like the garbage nothing you are.”

“You created your down fall,” Eric walked over to him and stepped onto his arm. His master screamed in pain.

“The Martyr to their deaths,” Eric leaned in close.

“I’m not like you, I won’t kill but I won’t save either,” he stood and left them behind. His old master screamed for him, but Eric kept putting one foot in front of the other.

———

Eric opened his eyes.

Across from him, sat a man up against the wall probably homeless he smiled with crooked teeth, tobacco stained.

“Who are you,” gritted Eric.

“That doesn’t matter,” replied the man.

“What matters is who you are,” the man pointed a bottle at him and smiled.

Eric sat up relieved that his mask was on his face still.

“I don’t even know who that is anymore,” Eric confessed.

The man took a drink of some thing and grunted.

“The people who fail are the people who don’t face themselves, the people who succeed are the ones who know who they are.” He enunciated the last three words.

That was the moment something clicked and maybe just once Eric would let someone in, let her see him and be his guide to feeling.

“I’m going to ask you again,” the man raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth saying three words propelling and driving Eric forward.

“Who. Are. You?” The man hammered it hard home and Eric smiled under his mask.

"I am the sky above," his words rang like a bullet fired from a gun.

"I am the howl of the wind," he lifted one foot up.

"I am…" he lifted the other rising up from the ground.

“The Sparrow,” He shot the wrist hook into the building and propelled himself upwards.

“Don’t you fucking forget it!” yelled the man laughing.

The cord pulled him, he used the momentum to carry himself onto the next rooftop and the next, and the next following the van through the city, letting the wind keep him going in the air instead of running on the ground below him.

“Superheroes,” mumbled the man and took another sip of his drink.

The wind seemed to carry him and he lost all his dread turning into something fierce to those who would of seen this.

He leaped like an animal and felt what was around him. Letting himself fall and fly, fall and fly like a bird taking off for the first time.

Up until the van stopped in-front of the one place that was right under his nose but he had never thought of.

The old abandoned library.

Written by Phoenix Rose

Characters and Story Created by Phoenix Rose

A Story Forge Production

#drama #fic #fics #original content #story forge #the story forge #writings #superhero

3 notes · View notes

corbeau-exe · 1 year

Text

Wrote a story based off of the Arepo story if y'all know it

The temple made for the god wasn't really a temple at all. The man who made it was a poor farmer, only having some rocks and wood at his disposal. He made a temple without knowing what kind of god would move in. But he knew that a god would show up, and something is better than nothing.

"I hope you're some kind of harvest god. The farm hasn't been doing too well after all," he mentioned while putting down an egg and a bit of old wheat. "I know that this offering isn't great. Might even look pitiful to you. But it's what I've got. I'll do what I can to make sure you don't regret moving into this little temple of mine."

Over the next few days, the farmer left some fruit, a piece of bread, some more wheat, and a tiny bit of butter. No matter the size of his offering, he spent a few minutes to pray to his new god. After a week passed, the god spoke to him.

"The temples in the city are nicer. Better gods than I live there. They could help you out." The god sighed, plucking leaves off of a bush and ripping them up as it spoke. "I don't mean to insult you, this is a nice temple. It's cozy. The worship has been nice too. But it won't bring you anything of use."

"Well, this is better than nothing," the farmer replied. "What kind of god are you, anyway?"

"I'm the flowers picked for loved ones," it said. "I am the laughter from the other room. The hug of one not seen in years. I am the longing of a friendship fizzled out. The rock skipped across a river. The creased spine of a well-read book. The worn noses on a statue. I come from the purr of a cat, and the wag of a dog's tail. I am the first plants appearing from the frost. The crack of a musicians voice. I represent a thousand little happenings. Things that happen without purpose."

The god sighed once more. "Do not waste your time on a god of foolish things like me. Use what you have on a more important god. War, Storm, or some of the others. They can affect your lively hood. Pray to them, and you might just get something out of it. You waste your worship on me."

The farmer knelt down to straighten the rocks that formed the small temple and shrine he had built. "That's quite alright. I like this just fine, and will continue on just as I have been."

"That's fine by me, but I did warn you. There is little I can do for you." The god retreated further into it's temple, and watched the farmer walk back to his field to begin his day's work.

For months this continued. The farmer would pray to the god each morning, leave a small offering, and then tend to his fields. The god watched in silent contemplation. But it did not last. Storm came, fast and hard. It's heavy rains flooded rivers and fields. The dark clouds blotted the sun for days. With Storm came Lightning, turning fruit trees to burnt husks of what they used to be. When they passed, the farmer and his family attempted to save what they could. They picked what fruit wasn't charred. Reaped the wheat that was still usable. It wasn't long after that when Earth grew angry, and sent tremors through the nation. The farmer's mill and part of his house crumbled under it's wrath, trapping his daughter in the rubble. She wasn't able to make it out in time.

"Useless," the god muttered while the farmer buried his daughter under the temple. "I could not save your fields nor your daughter. When Storm came through and Earth shook the world I could do nothing but watch in despair. I'm sorry that I am a useless god to you."

"Don't worry. I will mourn my daughter, of course, but there are others I must continue on for. We will rebuild and deal with things as they come," the farmer replied. "Things will be okay."

A year passed, and then another. The farmer made additions to the temple, repaired his mill and home, and tended to his fields. Children would leave flowers and fruit. Neighbors would look at it curiously, and then move on. But then Harvest withdrew its bounty. Trees bore no fruit and the fields only grew thin and brittle wheat. Clothes no longer fit as well, and the people went to bed hungry. Soon more gods got angry. They had not received the offerings they were accustomed to. They too withdrew their bounties.

The farmer approached the temple, his ribs showing. "There has not been much this year. There is nothing I can give to you today."

"What has my temple been but a burden to you? I have given you no protection from Storm, Earth, or Harvest. I could not help your daughter. I cannot even help you know. There is nothing here amongst these rocks that can help you."

"We have been hungry before, and we will be hungry again. This is nothing new for us, we have gotten through this before, and we will get through it again."

Years came and went, and the farmer grew older. Some days he would spend hours in silent thought with at the temple he built. The god continued to watch him as he went through the motions of his days, hoping to be of some use.

And then came War.

The farmer stumbled to the temple, covered in blood. His fields were ablaze. His house destroyed. His face was sooty and tear streaked.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Again there is nothing I could do for you or your family. All these years you have come to my temple to pray and given me offerings with nothing to show for it. I'm sorry that I was such a useless god to you."

"Oh hush," the farmer groaned. "Tell me once more, what kind of god are you?"

"I'm the flowers picked for loved ones," it said, holding back it's tears. "I am the laughter from the other room. The hug of one not seen in years. I am the longing of a friendship fizzled out. The rock skipped across a river. The creased spine of a well-read book. The worn noses on a statue. I come from the purr of a cat, and the wag of a dog's tail. I am the first plants appearing from the frost. The crack of a musicians voice. I represent a thousand little happenings. Things that happen without purpose."

"They were all wonderful. Thank you. Those little happenings are what life made worth living. Thank you," he said as he laid with the rocks of the temple, returning to his god.

10 notes · View notes