#a first aid kit contains | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sayoneee · 4 months

Text

☆ AND I KNOW IT’S OVER (STILL I CLING)

percy jackson, who never seems to know when to quit, keeps coming back. (2.9k)

contains: percy jackson x daughter of minor god! reader. post tlo (alt universe - everyone lives). book percy descriptions. apollo (derogatory).

kashaf’s note: book percy descriptions bc that was my first love. (sry if i get some of the words wrong, english isnt my first language pls be patient!!)

SUMMER BURNS. at camp half-blood, the scorching heat has dwindled to soft caresses, from the heat of the fire during sing-alongs where your cabin joins hands and toasts marshmallows to the cool breeze balming the sun’s glare at its zenith in the sprawling strawberry fields. at home, the scorching heat leaves marks — the biker with flames for pupils who clutched an openly bleeding wound as he thrust a first-aid kit at you, and the girl not much older than yourself with tears marring her face as she handed you a pregnancy test to ring up, avoiding your curious (sympathetic) gaze.

however, despite it all — you stand infallible, much like your grandfather’s part convenience store and part pharmacy, a poor man’s family heirloom.

you stand idly, flipping through an edition of seventeen when the rusty door swings open to admit a familiar face — with unruly black hair and an equally reckless grin (you know exactly who it is from the ba-dum of your heartbeat), the infamous son of poseidon (with the same smile as shawn hunter from boy meets world) is easily recognizable.

you glance at the crimson blooming around the crevices of his knuckles, tightly gripping a faded and worn-out skateboard, his scruffy converse squeaking across the tiled floor, raising an eyebrow as you coolly say, “band-aids are in the back, on the right.”

jackson laughs, an all-consuming sound (the wind-blown half-blood hill where apollo seemed to smile down at you, the laughter, like the memory, evanescent), “thanks, doc.”

you discreetly watch him perusing the aisles, before stopping in front of the ancient fridge — your grandfather’s store was something of an 80s pompeii with the peeling posters of back to the future and motley crue and the antiquated maroon and cream color scheme — and pulling out an arizona green tea.

when he finally goes to look for band-aids, you attempt to fix your attention back on the magazine in your hands, but like a moth driven to a flame, percy jackson was unbelievably hard to look away from (a magnet among mortals and immortals alike).

jackson’s hands are on his hips, his tupac t-shirt creasing, thick brows furrowed as he decides between different types of candy with the same intensity as a single mother with two children and a nine-to-five (even in the mortal world, there is something else entirely about him, something that made it so that you could never truly write him off).

when he approaches the register again, it’s hard not to look up and watch his ascent. when he finally does come to a stop in front of you, he looks the same as he did the last summer, though the tiny silver trident earring is new, the camp beads resting peacefully atop his collarbones aren’t.

you ring up his items: a box of band-aids, the arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks, looking away from him all the while.

“good to see ya, doc,” jackson says, a wry grin on his face, and his eyes are so green — as green as they were at twelve.

“it’s never good to see you, jackson,” you snark back, reciting his total, “four ninety-five, by the way.”

he laughs again (your heart goes ba-dum again), and hands you a five dollar bill, shoving his things into the seemingly bottomless pockets of his baggy jeans, with a salute on his way out (his turning back was a sight far more innocuous than the last time).

the next time jackson breaks whatever tacit agreement lies between the two of you, your hands are similarly stained. reds and purples line your palms, much like the burgundy seemingly permanently staining your grandmother’s fingertips; the culprit (the bowl of pomegranate seeds) sits innocently beside you.

“back again?” you say, glancing at the familiar scarlet stains adorning jackson’s hands (a familiar blue friendship bracelet sits on his wrist, edges frayed with five years of wear, and there’s a lump in your throat).

“why, did you miss me?” jackson asks, again with that wry grin of his, skateboard in hand.

“you’re the one who came back,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest, willing the constricting feeling to disappear.

“doc, i’m sorry to have to be the one that has to break this to you,” he sighs sympathetically, putting a bleeding hand over his heart, “but the sun doesn’t revolve around you.”

“actually, jackson, the sun kind of does revolve around me, ‘cause y’know apollo, the sun god apollo? my grandpa apollo? my grandpa, the sun god, apollo?”

“going by your logic, that would mean time revolves around me, ‘cause y’know kronos, the time titan kronos? my grandpa kronos? my grandpa, the time titan, kronos?” jackson says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sets down another band-aid box, an arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks on the counter.

“y’know, if you cared this much, you might’ve passed greek,” you say, referring to the progress report cards you were handed at the end of summer.

he shrugged, handing you another five dollar bill, and proceeding to shove everything into his black holes of jean pockets, “yeah, well — wait, are those pomegranates?”

“yeah,” you say, “i peeled them myself — do you want some?”

(your father liked these, your grandmother had said earlier this afternoon, your mother liked to peel them for him, as i peeled them for her, and your grandfather.)

jackson suddenly looked bashful, fidgeting with the hem of his a tribe called quest t-shirt, “i’ve never had pomegranates before,” he confessed.

you blinked, taken aback, “you’re seventeen years old and you’ve never eaten a pomegranate before?” you pushed the china bowl toward him, “now you have to eat it.”

“my mom liked telling me the myths when i was younger,” he begins, setting down his skateboard, and reaching for the spoon before halting, like he was shocked, “she told me about persephone —”

“jackson,” you say, sardonically, leaning over the register to look him in the eye (there was always a storm brewing in his eyes), “i promise you, hades won’t come out of the ground and drag you to the underworld if you eat the pomegranate seeds i peeled.”

“i know what my next sleep paralysis demon is gonna be — thanks to you,” jackson says, looking down at the bowl and its floral blue pattern around the edges, playing with the spoon, and shifting the seeds from side to side.

“percy jackson, i swear to asclepius, you’re missing out on pomegranates,” you say, coming out from behind the register, and looking percy in the eye again, and there is something so earnest, so raw about your next sentence that his breath catches, “and, i swear on the styx, if hades does somehow come out of the ground to drag you down to the underworld, i’ll come down myself to drag you out, even if it’s tartarus.”

a rumble of thunder can be heard overhead despite the clear sky and scalding sun; percy blinks, before breaking out into a slow grin (your stomach seems to grow wings of its own, on the verge of flight.)

“invoking your dad, huh, doc? these pomegranates must be serious,” percy says, finally taking a bite — stepping around the bomb you just dropped.

you watch him intently, studying him as you studied tennyson and homer, “they are that serious.” there is something innocent about the way he eats, starved like every other teenage boy with black holes for stomachs.

“y’know, i can put that into a tupperware container and you can take it with you, right?” you offer.

“really?” percy asks through a mouthful of seeds, looking up from the bowl at you, “won’t you think i’ll steal it or something?”

“not really,” you shrugged, “i trust ms. jackson.”

percy nods solemnly — sally jackson is sally jackson after all, a queen among women, and an achilles of sorts, with her soft smile and steely eyes.

steeling your nerves, this is already the longest conversation you’ve had (ignoring the forever-ago late-night debriefs under a firmament of stars), you step up to the plate and take a swing, “how is she, by the way, haven’t seen her in a while.”

percy swallowed, eyebrows furrowing, “great — oh, wait, did i tell you she was seeing someone new now?”

“no way, really? good for her, honestly. i know, poseidon’s a god and all, but like, she’s always deserved just, so much more.” (you manage to make contact with the change-up thrown your way.)

there is something so sincere about your words, that percy can’t help but grin back, finally reaching the depths of his sea-green eyes, and there is something still so boyish about him, that you can hardly believe any time has passed at all, and that somewhere within this demigod who successfully defeated kronos, while saving luke, there is still a semblance of your percy.

“yeah, the guy, paul blofis, he’s an english teacher — absolutely worships the ground she walks on.”

“sounds perfect for her.”

“you should come over some time — see her, meet paul, y’know,” percy offers, still funneling spoonfuls of pomegranates, meeting your gaze head-on (this is the home run you were waiting on).

you grinned, a slow smile overtaking your face, pushing your hands in the pockets of your jeans, “might just take you up on that, before you change your mind.” (you’re leaving the ball in his hands now; it’s up to him to tag you out or let you reach home base safely.)

“nah, i won’t change my mind, unlike someone else i know.”

you ignore the jab (a smaller, suppressed part of you itches to shoot a reply back), instead choosing to focus on the hesitant hand of friendship being offered — as your father liked to say, keep moving forward.

you shrugged, and you swear, for a second you think the intensity of his gaze has lessened, almost as if disappointed. almost as if mentally shaking it off, percy hands you the china bowl back, empty, running a hand through his shaggy hair with a sheepish grin.

you smiled wryly, glancing down at the bowl and back to his face. “fatass,” you say, affectionately, and then almost freezing, wondering if you somehow overstepped the invisible lines constricting you.

percy laughs — a green light.

“lucky for you, though,” you say, disappearing behind the register for a moment before reappearing with a tupperware container filled with peeled pomegranates, “i peeled more.”

you hold it out to him, and he glances down at your outstretched hand, then at your face, before seemingly making up his mind, and accepting the olive branch, “you’re really committed to seeing my mom, huh?”

“well, obviously — the other alternative would be seeing you, wouldn’t it?”

“aw, c’mon, doc, i know you missed me,” percy says, a bit smug, picking up his skateboard, the tupperware container in his other hand (the one he still wears your bracelet on).

“in your dreams, jackson.” there is a peal of odd laughter in your voice as if you were unused to this kind of jocularity when fumbling over his name.

“in my dreams, we do more than just argue,” percy says, with one last smug smile and salute, before walking out the door, leaving you behind in the worst state of confusion you’ve possibly suffered (percy jackson: 1, you: 0).

(your grandmother admonishes you later that evening as you stand beside her stooped figure at your kitchen counter, peeling pomegranates, you gave the rest of it to that boy, didn’t you? her voice is not scolding, but you feel like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar once more. your immortal grandfather, the nuisance that he is, stands in the doorway, hands in an 80s leather jacket and matching sunglasses, waiting to be welcomed in. in contrast, his son — your father — brushes past him, grumbling, and takes on your grandmother’s burden.)

the analog clock reads ten fifty-five as you start mopping the floor, yawning when the front door swings open with a jingling bell, and a sharp metallic smell wafts into the store.

you whirl around, gripping the mop in your hand as a baseball bat, immediately alert as your demigod reflexes come into play. you physically relax at the sight of percy clutching his side, crimson pooling on the edges of his white t-shirt.

“of course you would attack a man when he’s injured,” percy says with a grin, blood dripping from a gash over his eye (luke had returned to camp some years ago, with a similar scar), and a split lip, collecting like rust on his t-shirt collar.

you scowled, dropping the mop and immediately rushing toward him, your healing instincts kicking in. lifting one of his arms and letting it curl around you, you shouldered him to the register, cringing with every audible wince percy let out.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked, as you sat him on your stool, reaching for the ambrosia and nectar you kept hidden under the counter for emergencies (one could never be too careful).

percy grinned — it came out more of a grimace, “what isn’t wrong with me — that’s the question you should be asking, doc.” he nodded to himself, and then immediately cringed at the action.

you glared at him, shoving an ambrosia square in his mouth, before turning away from him to put antiseptic on cotton pads. “does ms. jackson know you’re here?”

“no?” percy says. you walk over to the fridge, grab a water bottle, unscrew the cap, and drench the part of his t-shirt covered in blood.

“ow? in case you forgot, i’m still injured here, doc?” percy clutches at his side.

“you dumbfuck, your mom is probably worried out of her mind right now,” you say, scowling, stepping closer to percy (he still towers over you, even when sitting down).

“i iris messaged her,” he shrugs, looking at you as you shift even closer to him, cotton pad in your hand, “she just knows i’m with you — pretty relieved at that, dunno why.”

reaching out to grasp his jaw in your hand, you begin dabbing at the bruises on his cheekbones, his eyes fluttering shut as you try to ignore the way his hot breath is fanning across your face right now. “you didn’t tell her what happened?”

percy opened his eyes, staring at you. “no, how could i?” he says, slowly, “you were her favorite — still are, by the way.”

you don’t say anything for a moment — after all, how could you? (sally jackson’s homemade cookies drift to the front of your treacherous mind — the sunny afternoons with her kind voice, and percy’s loutish laughter.)

“you didn’t come to see her,” percy says, the statement not accusatory, his eyes fluttering shut again (you try not to let the way his eyelashes sit so prettily distract you) as you dab at the gash over his eye.

“i didn’t think i was welcome,” you say gruffly, turning away to grab bandages. “after everything.”

while the deeper wounds have eased into far easier, superficial ones, you still make sure to wrap and bandage everything — percy had a penchant for getting into trouble (one that you knew all too well), so it was the least you could do.

“i just told you that you were welcome, last time i was here, didn’t i?” percy says, an accusation.

“yeah, well, it was hardly an invitation was it?” you say, turning away from him, packing your supplies up.

“doc, you didn’t even come to take your tupperware back.”

you ignore him, moving to walk away when his hand is enclosed around your wrist (the hand that wears your blue friendship bracelet), tugging you around to face him.

percy’s standing up now, his green eyes looking more like a swirling storm with each passing second — he still hasn’t let your wrist go.

“what do you want from me?” you ask, trying to snatch your hand back from him, to no avail — his grip is ironclad.

“i can’t let you walk away with your back turned to me again,” he says (the dim, lantern-lit night comes back into focus, and you wonder if you were too consumed by your own pride, if you had just turned around, if you had just stayed).

you realize too late that tears are pricking in the corners of your eyes, and you manage to successfully wrench your hand out of his grasp, a watery, sarcastic laugh escaping, “you’re a couple years too late, asshole.”

“i know that,” percy says, earnest, reaching out to cup your cheek, and wipe a stray tear (the action stuns you into paralysis), “but i miss you, and my mom misses you, and she hasn’t gotten off my case about you, yet.”

the thought of tender-hearted sally jackson scolding percy is an amusing one, and draws a laugh out of you against your will (percy’s smile grows a little brighter, and asclepius knows you’ve never been able to resist that smile of his), “i’ll come over for ms. jackson, not you.”

percy’s smile is even wider now (his hand is still ghosting your cheek), “same thing.”

“shut up,” you say swatting at his shoulder, trying to duck out from under his arms.

percy avoids your attempts to escape him, instead latching onto your hand, and pulling you out of the store. “c’mon, she’s expecting us for dinner.”

you let out an incredulous laugh, and let yourself be dragged out anyway (you would follow this boy anywhere, even to the depths of tartarus).

(your grandmother watches from the apartment window above the store, a soft smile gracing her lined features.)

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #percy jackson imagines #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson and the olympians #woc friendly #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x yn #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson one-shot #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson series #percy jackson x fem! reader #percy jackson oneshots #kashaf ki likhai

980 notes · View notes

ghoulie-67-baby · 11 months

Text

Softly now - Good Omens

Summary: Your anxiety has been raging all day, one accident at home makes you snap.

Warnings: Anxiety, depression, panic attack, anxiety attack, angst, crying, blood/wound.

Pairing: Ineffable husbands x Human!reader.

Word count: 1,674.

To say today had been challenging was an understatement. Nothing particularly bad had happened. The mix of work and anxiety had me in a spiral, wanting to go home and curl up away from the world. After finishing my shift, I trudged home in the pouring rain, the sound of droplets on my hood keeping me grounded. I knew Crowley wouldn't have had any issue picking me up but it felt like a burden and my head was telling me he'd be annoyed if I asked. So I settled for the walk in the dingy weather.

Dodging puddles, I yanked my coat collar around my throat, shivering as raindrops trickled down my face, leaving tear-like streaks on my cheeks. Luckily the bag containing my laptop and books had been miracled by Aziraphale to stay waterproof and protected by any weather. Despite the calm look on my face, the bustle and noise of the streets had my eyes darting around. My heart thundered in my chest as the bookshop came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I sped up, gasping as people barged into me in their rush.

With clenched, freezing hands, I shoved open the heavy wooden door and huffed out a sigh, slamming it behind me and locking out the world. My forehead reacted against the hardwood as I flipped the sign to 'closed'. I knew nobody would be in the shop, especially if Aziraphale had anything to do with it.

After a few minutes of unmoving silence, I wandered to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. A good cup of tea made everything better. There was no sign of the angel or demon as I walked through our home so I settled for one cup. Moving around the familiar space, my mind zoned out and I was set on autopilot.

I jumped out of my head as the sound of shattering filled the room. Shards of delicate, precious china scattered over the floor the beautiful flower pattern ruined. Anger and irritation flooded through me as I glared at the mess. Tears gathered in my eyes as I rushed to clean it, guilt crawling up my spine.

With trembling hands, I gathered some of the shards together to throw them away whilst trying to ignore the feeling rising man my throat.

"Love, let me take that from you." I froze as the Angel's voice floated through the silence. I hadn't even noticed him arrive home. With a quick shake of my head, I walked to the bin to throw them away but flinched as a large shard sliced my palm.

"Oh Y/N, you've cut your hand now." He tutted, reprimanding my stubbornness but I couldn't look at him. Instead, I trudged to the sink, rinsing the gash with a hiss and wrapping it in a towel. A warm hand rested against my icy shoulder as I watched the blood run down the drain.

"Darling, you need to let us help you." Crowley followed not far behind the angel with a disapproving look on his slender face. I watched silently as he unwrapped the bloody towel and grabbed the first aid kit to clean it properly. By this point, Aziraphale had cleaned up the remainder of the cup and droplets of blood from the tiles.

"You should really be more careful Love," The angel stood making hot chocolate, concern painting his face. I nodded silently, biting back a sob as tears filled my eyes. My chest began to heave as the demon bandaged my palm.

Only when a tear splashed on his hand did he realise the streaks on my face and the heads of my breaths as my good hand clutched the countertop, knuckles turning white. I stared straight ahead at his jacket, frustrated with myself. I squeezed my eyes shut, begging the tears to stop but it only worsened as waves of anxiety and guilt crashed over me.

Crowley caught me by my elbows to steady me as the first sobs escaped, swaying as my senses erupted with overstimulation. With ringing ears, I tried to listen as he spoke but words seemed to bleed into each other.

The only clear sound was my wails and whimpers as I tried to breathe, the room closing on me. Embarrassment filled me as I clawed at Crowley's chest, pulling him as close as physically possible so I didn't feel like I was sinking. Slender fingers passed me to chubbier ones as the blur of beige of Aziraphale's jacket came into view.

"Softly now, Love," he whispered into my ear. My breath caught in my throat as I cried into his chest which I had all but fallen into. The hum of his voice vibrated through my body as his fingers traced patterns on my back, the other hand smoothing down my hair. I couldn't help but feel bad for cuddling him when he was warm and soft and I was cold and soaked but he didn't seem to mind.

Warmth flowed over me and I looked down to find myself in Crowley's black sweater and Aziraphale tartan pyjama pants. I hummed thanks to the angel as my sobs died down into silent tears and hiccups. I clenched my fingers into his waistcoat, knees trembling and head pounding with such ferocity that I felt nauseous.

"Now, Love, whatever managed to get you in this state?" His voice was gentle, ringing softly in my ear, the definition of angelic.

"Rough day is all." My voice was exhausted and small as I muttered against his chest.

"Did something happen, Darling?" I shook my head, taking note of the pissed-off tone in his voice. "You know I'll be the first to punish them if you need me to."

"Nothing happened, 'just been a bad day." I drew patterns on his chest. "All day I've had this niggling feeling in my chest and small things have built up and then when the cup smashed it was just the last straw." I trailed off, new tears dripping off my cheeks. "Didn't mean to break it Azira, just lost focus and-" His soft hushing cut me off as his fingers scratched gently at my scalp.

"You don't need to apologise, Love, as long as your okay." The relief that overtook my system was ridiculously strong and deep down I knew he wasn't really fussed about the cup but I needed to hear it. "It's just a cup. It is replaceable whereas you are not." I dismissed the flush on my cheeks as I pulled away from his chest, looking up at him. Sparkling blue eyes stared down at me with a soft smile as I rubbed my thumb over his cheek.

"Why don't we go and get comfortable whilst our angel finishes that drink, Darling?" I nodded, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale's cheek before taking Crowley's hand and following him to the bedroom.

Flinging his sunglasses on the bedside table, he sat on the edge of the bed. Serpent eyes looked up at me expectantly and though I tried to stop it, my bottom lip trembled. His arms stretched open for me and I fell into them with a cry of anguish.

His slender arms wrapped my legs around him so we were chest to chest, hands holding me tightly around him as I cried into his neck. My cry in the kitchen had been one Of pain, panic, anger and frustration at myself and the world. But this one was relief, pent-up emotion and overwhelming gratitude to my two celestials. I let myself into him, neither of us paying mind to my echoing wails or the tears that soaked his collar. Not even the way my cries shook both of our bodies.

Somehow, none of these things annoyed the demon who merely dismissed it for comforting me. Once I settled down, I lay boneless against him, head on his shoulder and body slouching whilst I caught my breath. I shifted my head to look up at him with puffy, tired eyes. My shaking hand rubbed his cheek, thumb grazing his cheekbone as he smiled down at me, letting his eyes flutter shut.

The shuffle of slippers at the door brought us back to reality but I didn't want to shift. Three steaming cups were placed on the nightstand before the bed dipped beside us.

"Feeling any better Darling?" The softness in the demon's voice caught me off guard for a second. I hummed out a yes, not having the energy for a better response, blinking tiredly as the world finally slowed down.

"Let's hop into bed whilst Crowley gets changed, Love." I nodded, crawling off his lap and flopping dramatically in the middle of the bed, beside a pyjama-clad angel. The fresh hot chocolate was placed in my hands once I sat up. I smiled as the heat seeped into my skin, sighing in delight as the sweet liquid ran down my throat. The two chuckled and Crowley climbed in beside me, gulping down his drink, mostly to appease Azira. The heat didn't bother him, it had no effect against hellfire.

A comfortable silence filled the room as we finished our drinks, basking in each other's company for a few moments. Rather quickly my eyes began to feel heavier. The cup was slipped from my grasp as I wiggled down under the covers, Crowley pressed reassuringly against my back.

"Hey Azira," I whispered, tapping his shoulder hesitantly. "Will you read to me?" The uncertainty dissipated immediately when he broke out in a smile and miracled a book with the flourish of his hand.

"It would be my pleasure, Love, do cuddle down and relax." The three of us got comfortable and I held Crowley's hand that draped over my waist as Aziraphale's voice floated to my ears, and the story began.

All three of us knew I wouldn't last long but he still happily read, knowing it would calm me and I might rest properly. And rightfully so, writhing minutes I had drifted off beside my two favourite beings.

#good omens #good omens x reader imagines #good omens x reader #good ineffable omens #ineffeble husbands #ineffable husbands x reader #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #crowley x arizaphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #aziraphale imagines #crowley imagines

1K notes · View notes

chvoswxtch · 1 year

Note

i had an idea for matt but idk if it was good but reader who is matt’s neighbor and she always drops stuff off for him like a new first aid kit and food because she knows he’s daredevil and matt has no idea who does it till he catches her one day

like super fluffy

hi nonnie!

I actually LOVED this idea and thought it was super cute, so thank you so much for requesting it! 💘

warning: slight angst, cavity inducing fluff word count: 2.7k

[part two]

care packages

The first time it happened, Matt hadn’t thought much of it. He simply thought he’d placed an order that he had forgotten about, tossed the package containing a first aid kit and other items into his bathroom, and called it a day. Ever since taking down Fisk, the caseload at Nelson and Murdock had nearly quadrupled, and all the remaining crime lords in Hell’s Kitchen were competing for the vacant throne. Needless to say, Matt hadn’t been sleeping more than usual, and if you asked him what day it was, he probably couldn’t even tell you.

But then it happened again. And again. And again. And again.

Every couple of weeks, a new package arrived at Matt’s door, and the contents varied with each box. Some of them contained first aid kits, bottles of ibuprofen, other over the counter medications, ice packs, epsom salts, and various other supplies. Other times there were carefully packaged homemade dishes and freshly baked treats. Foggy and Karen both swore it wasn’t them, and even inspected the packages on Matt’s behalf. There wasn’t ever a note left, or anything written on the boxes, so none of them could figure out where they were coming from. Foggy lit up like a child on Christmas morning every time Matt entered the office with a new batch of goodies, and Matt couldn’t deny how nice it was to have a break from all the takeout. Whoever was leaving the packages was an excellent cook, and an incredibly skilled baker, but not knowing who was leaving the packages or why was driving Matt absolutely insane.

Between both of his hectic lives, he didn’t have much time to investigate where the packages were coming from. He had asked his neighbors on a whim if they had seen anything, but they didn’t have a clue either. On the rare occasion when Matt did have an off day, he camped out on his couch in anticipation, hoping the next care package would arrive while he was home.

But it never did.

Karen had suggested leaving his business card taped to his front door, making the argument that it had his name and phone number on it in case whoever it was felt brave enough to contact him. But Matt was hesitant, because he wasn’t sure if the person leaving the care packages was leaving them for him, or for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, and the latter made him nervous. He had no idea if they had made the connection, and he didn’t want to make it for them.

For two months, Matt drove himself completely crazy trying to solve the mystery.

By some miracle, or the grace of God, Matt was home at a normal time one Thursday evening. He was in the kitchen loosening his tie and reaching for a beer in the fridge when he smelled it. A familiar scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies that had been infused with cinnamon and nutmeg. The exact same chocolate chip cookies that had been left in front of his door four times in the past two months. The ones Foggy had dubbed, “crack cookies”. They were, in his defense, highly addictive.

Matt instantly froze, focusing solely on the sound of light footsteps approaching his door from the side of the hallway by the stairwell. The person’s heartbeat was steady, and they were humming softly to themselves as they bent down to place the package directly in front of Matt’s door. Matt abruptly slammed his fridge shut, racing towards his front door to fling it open like a madman, nearly tearing it off the hinges in the process and earning a shocked gasp from you as you were still knelt in front of his door.

He cocked his head to the side slightly, noting the sharp uptick in rhythm of your heart rate as you stared wide eyed up at him, fingers gripping tightly onto the sides of the container. For a moment, neither of you said anything, until the scent of cortisol creeping into your bloodstream snapped Matt back into focus.

“Are…are you the person that’s been leaving these?”

Letting out a shaky breath, you swallowed thickly as you gave a slight nod of your head.

“I…um…yeah.”

Your voice was timid and quiet as it came out, and there was something familiar about it. There was also something incredibly familiar about your scent, but Matt couldn’t quite place it. Your heart was thundering loudly in Matt’s ears, and he could hear the anxiety in every shuddering breath you took in. As his tongue darted out to quickly wet his lips, he slowly extended his hand out towards you.

“Do you…will you come in?”

Glancing between Matt’s outstretched hand and the dish in your own, you stared up at him silently for a moment. It suddenly occurred to him that his reaction might have made you more tense than the fact that you had been caught, and he pulled his lips into a gentle half smile.

“I’m not upset. I just…want to talk to you, if that’s alright?”

His words seem to put you at ease, and you carefully placed your hand into his own, allowing him to pull you up to your feet. Matt liked how soft your hand felt in his own, and he reluctantly let go to step back to grant you space, gesturing for you to come inside. After closing his door, he followed you cautiously into his living room, tuning all of his senses into you as you turned around to face him while still clutching the dish in your hands. There was something recognizable about you, but Matt for the life of him couldn’t place what it was.

“Um…I guess the obvious first question is…why you’re leaving all these care packages?”

Matt kept his voice even and gentle, not wanting you for a second to think that he was upset. As far as he could tell, you were leaving them with genuine intentions, and while that warmed his heart, he still wanted to know why. He caught the way you trapped your bottom lip between your teeth and tilted your head to stare down at the dish in your hands, taking in a deep, shaky breath before answering.

“Because you saved my life.”

Matt’s lips parted slightly in surprise, cocking his head to the side slightly as he took a step closer towards you and fixed his gaze in your direction with an expression of confusion.

“I…I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve represented you-”

“You were wearing a different suit.”

Matt’s entire body instantly went rigid. You did know who he was. Panic started to rise in his chest, and his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with some kind of lie or excuse to protect his identity.

“I…I don’t…I t-think you must have me confused with someone else-”

“Those men didn’t just want to rob me. They wanted to hurt me. They followed me home from that bar and pulled me into that alley. If you…hadn’t shown up when you did, they probably would’ve killed me, or left me there after they did what they really wanted to. I…I’m honestly not sure which would’ve been worse.”

Matt stilled hearing the way your voice trembled, tasting the fear that built in the corners of your eyes as the memory sent a shiver cascading down your spine. Suddenly it all clicked into place. That’s why he remembered you. He recognized your voice because he remembered hearing your frenzied cries for help from the rooftop. He recalled the scent of you lingering beneath his nose while he held you comfortingly to his chest as you gripped onto his shoulders, begging him not to leave you alone in the dark. After taking care of the men that had attacked you, he’d waited with you until the cops came, doing his best to keep you calm and reassuring you that you were safe.

Your name tumbled from his lips before he could stop himself.

“Y/N.”

He remembers asking for it that night. He remembers repeating it back to you soothingly, enjoying the way it tasted on his tongue while wiping your tears away with his gloved fingers. He remembers the sweet melody of your voice as you thanked him endlessly, and the way you struggled to let go of his hand once the police arrived and he had to disappear into the darkness.

He noted the way your lips tugged into the faintest of smiles as you nodded.

“You remembered.”

Matt had wanted to find you, as himself, to offer you legal representation if you wanted to build a case. But with things being so hectic lately, he never got the chance. Another wave of confusion settled over his features when he took another step forward towards you.

“Wait, but how did you-”

“I live in this building. I saw you on the roof about a week later.”

Matt’s lips parted slightly at your words, giving a slight nod of his head to encourage you to continue.

“I was up there kinda late one night. There was a lunar eclipse that was supposed to be visible at a certain time, and I wanted to see it. I saw you. You disappeared through that door on the roof, and I thought it just went to a stairwell, but none of the stairwells I found led to that same door. I kinda put it together that it only led to your apartment…and it wasn’t that hard to figure out which one was yours from there.”

“So…you didn’t…know that I was-”

“No. I didn’t know who you were, not really. I never saw you again after that. I just…you looked like you were hurt that night. I wanted to do something…something to help you. I felt like I owed you.”

Matt pursed his lips as he shook his head quickly, letting a dry chuckle escape his mouth.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you my life.”

Matt paused at the sincerity in your voice, noticing that it came out a lot firmer as you spoke those words. His fingers twitched slightly at his sides as you let out a soft sigh, turning around to place the dish of cookies on his coffee table.

“Look, I’m sorry if I…I freaked you out or anything. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to do something nice for you since you saved me. I figured you probably go through a lot of first aid kits and don’t have much time to cook with your busy night job.”

Matt chuckled softly as a light smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, placing his hands on his hips as he followed your movements.

“That’s an understatement. Can I…can I ask…why you didn’t say anything? I mean, you never knock or leave a note or anything.”

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and shrugged lightly as you fiddled with a ring around your finger.

“I told you, I didn’t wanna freak you out. I’m sure you wear the mask for a reason. I…wanted to respect your privacy. Look, you don’t owe me anything, certainly not an explanation. You don’t have to tell me anything at all, and I would never tell anyone about this, I swear.”

The steady, strong rhythm of your heartbeat had Matt’s chest swelling with gratitude. He knew you were telling the truth.

“I believe you.”

There was a faint smile pulling at your lips as you stared at him, and Matt desperately wanted to know what you saw, and what you were thinking. He didn’t think it was a coincidence someone like you had fallen into his lap. He didn’t believe in coincidences. But he did believe in divine intervention. What were the odds of him saving your life, being your neighbor, and the recipient of your unwavering kindness and genuine understanding?

“I…I’m not a doctor, or a medical professional by any means, but I do know my way around a first aid kit. I’m also a horrible insomniac, so I’m usually awake at ungodly hours throughout the night. If you ever…need…or want any help, I just live a floor down. I’m in 5C.”

“I…thank you. And thank you for all of the care packages.”

“Thank you for saving my life.”

Matt felt his cheeks heat up at the candor in your voice. He didn’t get thanked often for what he did every night, not that the praise was his main motivator, but they were still two words he didn’t hear all that much. The people he took down certainly weren’t thanking him for sending them to prison, and sometimes the people he saved were in too much shock to speak, or he had to take off before he got caught by the cops. But something about the way the gentle inflection of your voice dripped into his ears like honey had warmth spreading throughout his entire body. He took another careful step towards you, extending his hand once again for you to take as his lips parted into a tender smile.

“Matthew. My name is Matthew.”

His heart started to beat a little faster feeling the way your mouth pulled into a smile of your own, reveling in the feeling of your soft hand slipping into his once again, fingers delicately curling around the bottom of his palm.

“It’s nice to meet you, Matthew. Officially.”

Matt keened at the way his name sounded falling from your lips, and he gave your hand a faint squeeze.

“It’s nice to meet you officially as well, Y/N.”

He didn’t miss the way your heart jumped slightly when he repeated your name, or the fact that neither one of you seemed to want to let go of the other’s hand.

“You know, my partner is going to be beyond excited that I’ve finally found the person responsible for those amazing cookies.”

Matt’s chest expanded with pride feeling the rise in temperature across your cheeks, lips parting slightly as your soft giggle hit his ears.

“Nice of you to share, Matthew.”

A wider smile tugged across his lips hearing you say his name again. He lightly stroked his thumb across your knuckle as he shrugged.

“I thought at first one of them was doing it, but neither of them are as good of a cook or a baker. You’re a hit in our office, by the way.”

“I am?”

“They ask me everyday if I’ve gotten a new care package. Obviously the edible ones are their favorite.”

Another soft giggle slipped past your stretched lips, and Matt found himself inching closer to the sound as heat spread down your neck and across your chest.

“They…they know, too?”

“They do.”

“Well, then they’re just as deserving.”

Matt found himself completely in awe of you, wondering how he had managed to find an angel when he walked the path of the Devil.

“Can I…can I take you to dinner? To say thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me-”

“I want to. You’ve provided me with a ton of dinners lately. I’d like to treat you to one.”

Matt angled his head to the side slightly as he listened to your heart’s tempo increase, enjoying the way you delicately tightened your hold on his hand as you took in a shaky breath.

“Well, how can I refuse my savior?”

“You can’t. It’s against the law actually.”

A large grin spread across your mouth at Matt’s playful tone, peering up at him with curiosity.

“Are you a lawyer, Matthew?”

“I am.”

An incredulous giggle escaped your mouth as your brows knit together in the center of your forehead.

“So, wait…lawyer by day, vigilante by night? How does that work, exactly?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”

Matt chuckled softly as you giggled, resisting the urge to reach his hand up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear like he had done the first night he met you.

“So, Friday night?”

“You know where to find me.”

“I do, now.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock request #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil request

3K notes · View notes

luveline · 8 months

Note

Hiii if ur not sick of the fainting requests yet would love on for our bf remus <3

and thank uuu for all ur writing and time <3

thank u sm lovely ♡ fem!reader, 1.1k

cw blood + fainting

"No! That's not what happened, and you know it isn't," Remus says with a laugh big enough to shake his shoulders.

The stomach of his t-shirt is dark with water, splattered by the colander as he rinses the celery he's sliced.

"It is what happened," you say, peeling the lid back from your plastic container of hummus. "You have a selective memory, Remus."

He tips the clean celery into a bowl atop carrots shining with wet, his disagreement obvious and entertaining. James did help Remus ask you out the first time, but Remus might not remember it because it was largely done behind his head, James mouthing clearly, My friend thinks you're stunning.

"Did you cut up any green apples?" you ask.

They're James' favourite. Tonight, you and Remus are celebrating five months as a couple, but you hadn't realised movie night (pre-negotiated) was the same day until a half hour ago, hence your rushed preparations. You wouldn't be here to celebrate if it weren't for James. He deserves them.

Having to rush hasn't put a damper on how happy you both are. "No," Remus says, clasping your hand loosely on the way to the fridge. "Did you want to get changed?"

"We have," —you check your watch, eyes flaring— "about eight minutes until six. Plenty of time."

Remus laughs at your joking and takes three apples from the fruit and vegetable drawer. You slide in the fridge behind him to eye your drinks selection and start to fret. "You know, I'm gonna put my shoes on and nip to the Spar. We don't have any coke zero for Sirius–"

"He can get his own coke zero."

"Then what's the point of hosting? It's only across the road."

The sound of Remus peeling an apple follows you down the hallway, a quick shush shush shush. You put your fingers at the back of your converse as a makeshift shoe horn and force your foot into it to save time. Your fingertips hurt afterward, but you're ready in less than a minute. Your purse in your back pocket, you shout, "Did you want anything?"

"Not that I can think– Ow." A sharp hiss. "Fuck."

You walk briskly back to the kitchen. "What?"

Remus turns to you with blood dribbling down his arm and you can't remember a thing after that.

—

"You've murdered her?" Sirius asks, staring down at Remus with wide-eyed surprise. "I thought you were getting on well."

"Can you help, please?" he asks. He's using his t-shirt to stem the frankly worrying amount of blood that drips from his cut finger, the pain a stinging but luckily bearable constant. Remus is more concerned by your limp weight in his lap. He's dripped blood onto your sleeve. It's a mess.

Sirius shoves his bag on the kitchen table and sits down on the floor, easing your head from Remus lap and into his own. "Mate, what the fuck happened?"

"She fainted when she saw the blood."

"I thought that only happened on telly?"

"It's quite real," Remus says, standing up to take care of things. "Can you give her a little shake? I tried tapping her cheek but she didn't feel it."

Sirius pokes at your eyelids. Remus hates that he's had to relinquish what's clearly a boyfriend duty, but he imagines that if the blood shocked you that badly the first time, it'll get you a second. He's lucky he managed to grab you under the arms before you smashed your head open.

He washes his arms clean in the sink and wraps a tea towel around his thumb. Swift, he reaches for the first aid kit on top of the cupboard and opens it one handed over the stove top. He puts a plaster on his cut, then a second, like a hat.

Fully covered, Remus turns around and sighs. There's blood like a spattering of concentrated rain in a line to your prone body.

Sirius continues to poke at you like a science experiment, but he isn't mean. "Helloooo," he sing-songs, blowing air in your ear. You jump and your eyelashes flutter, and for once, Remus can endorse his friend's antagonising.

"Hey, there you are," Remus says, kneeling by your head. He helps you up from Sirius thigh, angling your gaze to the hallway rather than the bloody kitchen. "That's never happened before. Do you usually do that?"

"Do what?" you ask, blinking like you've weights sewn into your eyelids.

"You fainted," Sirius interjects. "Keep your eyes on Moony, doll. I'll clean up this mess. Consider it my charity for the year."

"What?" you ask, trying to look around Remus.

He takes your face into his hands, drawing your gaze. "Do you feel okay? Haven't bruised anything?"

"No?"

He nods, relieved. "Come on, lovely. Let's sit you on the sofa."

Remus helps you stand and directs you into your living room. It's beautifully clean awaiting company, giving you ample room to lay down again. You don't complain aloud but Remus can tell you're feeling weird still from the way you frown, your bottom lip pouted ever so slightly. He perches on the end of the seat.

"What the fuck, where are the dish cloths?" Sirius asks himself.

You laugh into your shoulder, the sound like a beacon. Remus knows you'll be alright, but he'd quite like to hammer it home. He puts his hand on your forehead to stroke along your hairline with his uninjured thumb.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"I'm fine, you're the one who almost broke her neck," he says, the tip of his pinky racing down your cheek to your chin. He tilts your head up. "Since when do you faint at the sight of blood? Bit dramatic."

"I don't know. Never happened before. Since when do you cut yourself with a seventy pence peeler? That's ridiculous."

He presses his smile into your lips. "You weren't supervising me."

"It's my fault, then. Typical."

Remus kisses you, the corner of your mouth, your cheek. A loving line. You relax under his touch, laughing softly at his tickling stubble. He pulls away as the front door clatters in, but whoever it is ignores the living room completely, bursting into your kitchen.

"Sirius, what have you done, mate?" James asks, plastic bags rustling.

"I don't want to talk about it. Why's it always me on my knees? Not like that."

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

1K notes · View notes

rottngdeer · 1 month

Note

Heyy, so I have a request for an NBC Hannibal imagine. I don’t know if this is to brutall or anything, no worries.

Could you write an imagine with short shy reader (female or gn) were she is secretly dealing with depression and also like in the early stages of a relationship with Hannibal and like one day he comes to her house (you can make up a reason) and he finds y/n in her bedroom on the floor harming herself and and she is like losing blood and can like barely talk to him before she faints and he brings her to his house after to care for her.

No worries if it is to dark, but I would love it if you do….

I love your other Hannibal stories a lot too ❤️❤️

thank you, i’m happy that you enjoy my other stories :) sorry for the delayed response to this!

Pairings || Hannibal Lecter x Female!Reader

Contents/Warnings || Mentions of depression, self harm, and blood.

Gif found on Pinterest from the user sydney14well

Hannibal hadn’t heard from you in three days. He was rightfully worried, and decided that he would drive to your house to make sure that you were alright. He brought along a glass container of horderves he had saved from his last dinner party for you, knowing that you would be grateful for them.

You had only been dating for two months, and you hadn’t ever stopped answering his calls and texts like this before. He pulled up to your house, noting that your car was in the driveway and a few lights were on inside.

Hannibal knocked on your front door, container in hand and waited for your response, only to stand alone on the front steps for several minutes. He looks around the porch for a moment before lifting up your doormat, finding exactly what he suspected he would. He picks up your spare key, unlocking your front door, knowing that he was pushing limits in such a new relationship, but not caring about that part yet. He walks through the house; the main hallway, the living room, the kitchen, leaving the container on the counter. He hadn’t been in your house yet, so he was carefully picking up on every detail he saw. He made it to your bedroom, looking around for a moment before seeing your body laying in the doorway of your bathroom and the room. He quickly moves towards you, shrugging off his coat and rolling up his sleeves as he seems the amount of blood on the floor.

He kneels down beside you.“Y/N,” he says your name gently, and your eyes open a little, looking up at him. He notices how pale you were and the razor beside your bleeding wrists, and he connects the dots easily. He opens the cabinet beneath the sink, pulling out your small first aid kit. He knew it wasn’t much, but it would have to do for now. He notices you floating in and out of consciousness before your eyes dropped completely.

You awaken in a haze, disoriented and confused. Your wrists sting as you use your arms to help you sit up, and you look down, noticing your carefully bandaged arms. You see movement in the corner of your eyes and look up, noticing Hannibal standing in the doorway. “You’re awake,” He says, and only then you notice that you’re not in your house anymore.

Hannibal notices your confusion and sits on the edge of the bed beside you, “I found you at your house and I brought you to my home. I have more resources to take care of you here.”

You bite your bottom lip, looking back down at your bandages wrists, “… thank you,” You say in a small voice. Hannibal’s hand finds your thigh, giving it a gentle and reassuring squeeze.

“Would you like to talk about what happened?” He asked.

You hesitate before signing, finally explaining some things, “I’ve... been struggling with mental health issues for a while now. I was doing okay for a few weeks and I was happy, but it didn’t last long… I guess I just finally hit my breaking point..”

Hannibal nods understandingly, not pushing you for any other details. “You’re in safe hands,” He says, looking at your bandages, “You don’t have to, but I would like for you to stay here for a few days, so I can make sure you heal properly.”

“I’ll stay… thank you,” You agree, leaning back against the headboard.

“Would you like something to eat?” He asked.

“Yes, anything.”

He gives your thigh another squeeze before he stands up, stepping out of the room to cook you something, thinking of ways you ensure your safety and comfort while keeping you with him.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #mads mikkelsen #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal x y/n #hannibal x you

170 notes · View notes

morganski-19 · 2 months

Text

The One with the Cold

Robin walks out of her bedroom to find Steve wrapped in a blanket on the couch. Face down in the pillows.

“Robs, I’m dying.”

“You just have a cold, calm down.”

“Then why am I dying.” He rolls over with a groan, pouting at Robin.

She crosses her arms. “I don’t know what you want from me. You’re the one who decided to work with germ ridden six-year-olds.”

He lets out a long sigh. “I know.”

“Like seriously, I’m surprised you don’t get sick more. You practically get sneezed on daily.”

“I have a strong immune system.”

Robin glares at him.

“Normally. I normally have a strong immune system.”

Robin takes her hand and places it on his forehead. He’s slightly warm. “On a scale of dying to dead, how sick are you?”

“Just regular dying.”

She goes to the bathroom to get the thermometer out of the first aid kit. Putting it in his mouth, she walks away to get a glass of water and some cold medicine. When the thermometer beeps, she looks at it and hands him the pills.

“Just a slight fever, it should be fine. Want some tea or something?”

“Tea would be nice,” Steve says as he retreats back under the blanket.

Robin finds the empty tea box in the cabinet, cursing Steve for leaving it in there. If he wasn’t sick, she’d let him hear it. It’s a bad habit of his. She lets him know that she’s running across the hall to see if they have any.

Nancy’s door is unlocked, like it normally is. She opens it to find Nancy walking around the apartment with cleaning wipes in her hand. Scrubbing at the remotes and surfaces.

“Yours too?” Robin groans.

Nancy turns to her with an annoyed face. “Well, now I know where he got it from. Steve being a giant baby over it too?”

“What do you think? Came over to see if you had any tea, we’re out.”

Nancy throws out the wipe in her hand, placing the container on the counter. “We should, but Eddie always puts the empty boxes back on the shelf.”

“Wow, they were really made for each other,” Robin jokes. “If only they would do something about it.”

Nancy hands Robin a tea bag. “Maybe lay off the teasing for now, Eddie’s claiming he’s dead.”

Robin huffs. “That’s worse than Steve. He’s just regular dying. Do you happen to have a can of soup I can borrow too. I know we don’t have any.”

“Probably.” Nancy roots around in a separate cabinet, pulling out a can of chicken noodle soup. “Here. I just hope I don’t get sick because of this. I can’t miss work this week.”

“I mean, you just sanitized the entire apartment. And probably barred him to his room. You’ll be fine.”

Nancy knocks three times on the table. “Just in case.”

Robin heads back to her apartment after thanking Nancy for the food. “Guess who else your grubby kids got sick. Eddie. But he’s either more dramatic than you are or generally worse. He’s claiming he’s dead. Nancy’s busy cleaning so she doesn’t get sick either.”

She’s cut off when a choked snore comes from the couch. Robin laughs to herself, taking the kettle off the stove before it starts boiling. He won’t be awake for a while anyway. She grabs a book from her room and sits on the armchair, waiting for him to wake up.

It’s a few hours before he does. And the only real reason he wakes up is because he can’t breathe out of his nose anymore. Robin gets him more of the cold meds as he sits up. Shivering as the blanket falls off his shoulders. She actually makes the tea this time.

“Thank you,” he whispers when she hands it to him. Wincing when he burns his tongue.

“I just made that, dingus, it’s going to be hot.”

He shoots her a half-baked glare. “Can’t you save the insults for when I don’t feel like shit.”

Robin smiles. “Nope.”

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1

#sponsored by the cold I woke up with yesterday #morgan's friends au #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things au #friends au #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #platonic stobin #pre-steddie #mentioned

168 notes · View notes

gabessquishytum · 5 months

Note

Something is getting into Hob's back garden and trash cans. It's an animal to be sure, and to be subsisting on trash and old veggies, it's most likely hurt. This is backed up by the dried blood on one of the garbage cans.

Hob has seen a black streak speed by when he turns on the back porch lights, and most people would tell Hob not to do what he's going to do --- leave out fresh protein for the animal. Yes, Hob is aware he's probably just feeding a large raccoon, but something is out there, hurt. Hob can't just do nothing.

Morpheus is a large cat shifter (I'm thinking https://tinyurl.com/Black-Serval or https://tinyurl.com/BlackJaguars) who broke out of his containment (Burgess: zoo/research facilitiy/cage) and he doesn't know where he is or how far away from home he is, and he got hurt in the escape. He ran and hid in the first place that smelled safe.......this backyard. Hob's backyard.

Morpheus doesn't know what to think when fresh water and chicken are put out, but he won't be captured again.

Wahhh yeah I'm soft about this concept.

For days after Hob starts putting out the water and chicken, his mysterious yard visitor refuses to touch it. But Hob isn't giving up so easily. Every day there's fresh meat and fresh water, and he even takes a nibble from the food to show that it hasn't been doped. And after a while... Morpheus eats the chicken, and drinks the water before streaking off to hide again. It's progress, Hob thinks.

One day he comes out to put the food out as usual, and he's shocked to find the huge black feline sitting and waiting for him. It's claws are out and it looks warily at him, but it turns enough to reveal the severly damaged hind leg. Hob runs for his first aid kit immediately. He's able to treat and wrap the wound, but there's only so much he can do. It would be easier to bring the big cat inside, but it clearly doesn't like that suggestion...

Hob begins to understand why, when he finds a naked man shivering in his yard the next day. He recognises the sharp blue eyes and the midnight black hair. Morpheus shies away from Hob but desperately sticks out his leg, which looks even worse in human form. "I am too tired to turn back." He explains. "If you try anything, I will still claw your eyes out."

Morpheus is eventually persuaded to come inside, on the condition that the doors and windows are left open. Hob is happy to oblige. He's quite relieved when Morpheus dozes off on his sofa, full of chicken pasta and antibiotics.

Next morning there's a cat in Hob’s bed. Not quite purring, but obviously grateful. And despite his determination not to held or captured... Morpheus is quite glad to find a place that he'll never have to leave.

#the sandman #dreamling #meowpheus

266 notes · View notes

hoes4lino · 9 months

Text

Late nights 🌃 | LMH

WARNING ⊂✦⊃ This story contains suggestive content, minor injuries, swearing as well as slut shaming (fluff?); minors please don’t interact, please beware of what you consume online.

Genre: Enemies to lovers

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: Who would say that after years of despising his existence he would end up in your bed.

Authors note: I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers. (Also I was lazy to spell check srry T-T)

. • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚⛓ . • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

It was around 3am on a Saturday morning, the dim lights of the city illuminating your room, the light sound of the rain hitting your window, it was the perfect set up to cuddle with your cat while you watched kdramas on your bed.

Your eyes felt heavy, your body was comfortable in the coziness of your bed, slowly closing them you felt how you drifted to a slumber sleep.

Maybe it was the loud thunder or the cries of you cat, but you jumped out of your bed, annoyed and scared as you heard your doorbell ringing nonstop. You walked towards the door slowly trying to make no sound.

Stumbling through the darkness you grabbed an umbrella, just in case you had to defend yourself— your mouth was slightly parted as you spotted the brun haired boy standing in front of your apartment door. His face had few bruises and scratches, seems like he got into a fight. He kept ringing the doorbell, you brain trying to decide whether you should open it or not.

You met Minho at a club about two years ago, he was a mutual friend— however, you two never seemed to click, always getting on each others neck; you didn’t really considered him a friend but he was always around cause he was part of your friend group.

The sudden silence that echoed your apartment made you snap out of your thoughts, peeping again through the peephole you spotted him with a concerned face as he stared to his side, panic filling his eyes.

In that moment you knew he was in desperate need of help, you snatched open your door and pulled him in, locking your door and hoping whatever was after him didn’t notice he went inside your apartment.

“Took you long enough” He scoffed, carefully touching his busted lips. You looked at him up and down annoyed, some of his wounds were dripping blood and his cloth were dirty “Don’t make me snitch on you” He smirked as he leaned forward “I know you are an asshole but you would never” He said with his raspy voice— You simply rolled your eyes at him, looking at him from head to toes once again.

“Why are you here?” You questioned him, arms wrapping in front of you chest— you looked pissed “None of your business” he spat, making you scoff once again “It is when you come to my house beaten up at 3am” You said in disbelief.

A small smile adorned his face as he looked at you mischievously, he always loved pushing your buttons, it gave him some sort of satisfaction “You won’t like the real reason of why I’m here. So lets pretend am being chased by a thief” Your eyes widen in disbelief “A thief chasing you?!? And you brought him to my apartment building? You want to get me killed or something? He shrugged and looked at you “maybe? It was the first place that came to mind”

You seriously couldn’t stand him, how dare he come to your apartment this late all beaten up and with a criminal chasing after him. It was also the audacity he had to talk about it like it wasn’t a big deal.

“You are seriously going to kill me someday” You sighed as you grabbed his arm and walked him to your bathroom “What are you doing” You signaled him to sat on the toilet “Isn’t it obvious?” You said annoyed as you searched for a first aid kit in the bathroom drawer.

He looked at you as you grabbed a towel and poured some hydrogen peroxide. You were wearing your silk pijama dress, it looked as delicate as you, your puffy eyes and messy hair gave him a hint that you were probably sleeping before he came to interrupt.

You walked towards him and kneeled in front of him, snapping him out of his thoughts once you carefully tapped the towel on his face. He hissed at the contact, the hydrogen peroxide burning his skin “Fuck” he yelp “Don’t be a bitch be gentle” he spat as he grabbed the counter besides him.

You laughed at his squirming “Stop being a baby” You teased— He straighten his body and looked deeply into your eyes “Im not a baby” He scoffed, swallowing his pain. It was quiet for a second, his heartbeat and breathing being audible, for some reason it brought you some kind of comfort.

“You need to stop staying too late at clubs” you mumbled while continuing to clean his wounds. He rolled his eyes “Aweee you care about me??” He said in a playful tone while tilting his head, a smug adorning his face.

You shook your head “Don’t make this about yourself, I’m just saying so you never come back to my house at this hours” He doesn’t know why but your words sting his heart, He doesn’t want to admit it but it does.

He scoffed “Says the slut that always passes out at the clubs” You stop cleaning him and looked at him, anger filling your eyes “What did you say?” He leaned closer to your face “I’m pretty sure you heard me loud and clear” He gave you a thin smile.

You never knew why Minho was like this, always defensive. No matter the situation— he always had something to say about you “I don’t get why you are being so defensive right now” You say softly as your gaze moves back to his scratches, this time pressing the towel hard on his wounds. He hisses and throws his head back.

“You did that on purpose” He groans, his eyes tight shut “Did I? I’m sorry” You proceed to press even harder, liquid dripping from the towel to his wounds. He moves one of his hands to grabs yours, both of you forcing against each other.

“Let go” You hissed, trying to remove your hand from his strong grip, however, he wouldn’t budge “I’m tired of you” He said out of nowhere, you stop forcing and looked at him confused. “Excuse me? You tired of me? You are the one interrupting my sleep” At this point you thought Minho was a social experiment to test how long it would take for you to reach your limit.

It was quiet for a minute until he started talking “You are always batting your pretty lashes at anyone who walks your way” He probably noticed by your face that you were confused as hell in that moment, he scoffed “Now you are pretending you don’t know” You tilted your head to lock eyes with his “I know what you mean, I’m aware of my actions, however I don’t get how that involves you” He took a deep breath and mumbled something you didn’t quite catch.

“Oh c’mon, let’s be for real” He doesn’t really know why this conversation is frustrating him so much, its not like he cared or at least thats what he told himself “I was at our usual club making out with this hot chick when I heard the people besides us talking about you” He stopped his words, his hands turning into fists

“They were talking some nasty shit about you” He scoffed leaning his face closer to yours “Now don’t get me wrong, It’s not like I care about you, but the way they see you as a dirty little slut pissed me off” Minho didn’t realize he was still holding your arm until you squirmed at his grip, he let you go and gave you apologetic eyes before continuing “I stood up and next thing I know I was fighting against 5 guys, funny thing is not the first time I defend you like that”

You were aware of your flirty persona, always giving men false hopes in exchange of free drinks, however, you never expected for people to gather around and slut shame you. You have never slept with someone after a clubbing night, you were disgusted and uncomfortable, you didn’t like the image that was going on around about you.

Your gaze moved back to Minho’s he had a face of disgust, you were unsure if his expression was like that because of you or because of what those guys were doing, either way it didn’t feel nice.

Seeing that no words were coming out of your mouth he continued talking “Im so tired of protecting you behind your back” He sighed “I’m always getting in trouble because you can’t keep your cunt dry” Although you appreciate his gesture of protecting you— it pisses you off the way he is talking to you, personally you believe theres better ways to say this type of things.

“Well I never asked for your help did I?” You threw the towel to the side and stood up, his body mimicking yours and following you to the kitchen. You grabbed a cup of water and took a sip of it “So what? Should I just sit there and hear how they treat you like a slut?” He scoffed. Those words marked you limit, your body automatically throwing the cup of water to his face, your face was red in anger.

His laugh echoed in your head like an annoying fly, he tried drying his face as you stood up there looking how he laugh uncontrollably. You hated the way he could make you feel like nothing in matter of seconds, tears threaten to fall from your eyes but you refused to let him see you cry.

“I’m sorry” he chuckled “Im aware I crossed the line, however…” He walked closer to you, making you stumble as you take few steps back until your back hit the counter “You seriously need to stop giving me troubles, I just know they banned me from that club” He sighed frustrated, you look at him for a second noticing a drop of blood rolling down his chin from his lip.

Gently you swiped the blood away with your finger “Let me get you a band aid” The atmosphere felt dense, it was awkward. He genuinely felt bad for crossing the line, however, he wasn’t good with words so he had no clue how to apologize.

You took him again to the bathroom finishing to clean his wounds, as you finished up by putting a band aid on the corner of his lip you spoke “You should stay for the night” You spoke softly looking at his eyes “But… I took my couch to the dry clean so… you can stay on my bed” His initial answer was to reject the offer and walk home, however, he felt like he was under a spell as you spoke to him so softly so… caring.

He cursed under his breath, eyes looking at you unsure “Are you sure you are comfortable with that?” He questioned afraid this was some type of prank— You slightly nodded “Knowing the type of crybaby you are I can’t make you walk home covered in wounds, I just know you will accuse me with Jisung” You scoff, cleaning up the area. He chuckled “You have a good point right there”

. • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚⛓ . • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

It was around 6am you could feel the light sunlight creeping in your curtains, you groan your eyes slowly opening. You tried to move, however, you couldn’t— you look down to see what was stopping you, your breath hitching as you see Minho’s arm wrapped around your waist. That’s when it hit you. The soft breath hitting your neck, he was cuddling you in his sleep.

You tried to ignore it, his arm around your waist, his warm breath hitting your neck, the way your pajama dress rolled up to your mid ass. But there was one thing you couldn’t ignore. His morning wood, the way it was pressed against your almost bare ass.

You closed your eyes shut trying to think on other things, get some distraction. You hated to admit you were getting turned on by the second. Your body froze as you felt him shifting on the bed, his body only pressing closer towards yours, he snuggled his head on the crook of your neck.

He mumbled softly “Are you awake?” His words tickled your neck, slightly squirming under him. You nodded, you couldn’t dare and use your words, afraid your voice might sound shaky or unstable. He hummed at your response “Im sorry…” He lightly rubbed your belly with his thumb “I can’t control it” He said embarrassed, slowly moving away from your body.

“Do you mind if I use your shower?” He asked his eyes wide open looking at the ceiling “Sure” You said nonchalantly, slightly disappointed at the lack of his body warmth. He stood up and left to the shower, after that you two shared breakfast. It was rather silent as you both drank your coffee, no one knew what to say or what to do…

The moment he left your apartment you felt a weight leaving your shoulders— you could finally breathe in peace, you look down to stare at the kitty rubbing against your legs, “What am I going to do” You squirmed running to your bedroom. Once there you threw yourself on your bed, kicking your feet and screaming on the pillow replaying the moment in your head. You grabbed your phone to call your best friend asap.

You hoped she would kick some sense into you… however, she left you feeling even more confused about Minho, her words being “Maybe you too should have sex to break the tension” The thought of having sex with Minho made you wanna puke, not in a bad way but in a way you can’t really describe.

. • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚⛓ . • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Literally what the hell is wrong with you” You snatched your arm from his grip. You where at a frat party with your friends, you were hooking up with someone when Minho basically dragged you to an empty room.

“What’s wrong with me? More like whats wrong with you” He snarked back, his eyes looking like big dark orbs. “Well I was having some fun until you came” You said at him annoyed, you have no idea what his business was here but it was pissing you off.

He chuckled, his laugh echoing in the whole room “If by having fun you mean sleeping with anyone, then go ahead” He gesture his hands towards the exit. His attitude make you confused and mad, your eyes rolling as he kept his gaze focus on yours.

“Look Minho” You took a deep breath trying to keep yourself well collected “I don’t know what your business is right now but maybe and Yeji was right when she said to fuck you to break the tension” You spat at him, your body straightened and arms crossed over your chest. He took a moment to process your words, his mouth slightly parting to say something when you spoke again.

“You are literally so annoying, always treating me like a god damn child, also picking up a fight with me, like get a damn lif-” Your words were interrupted as his lips crashed on yours, his body pushing you towards the door.

His lips felt soft and smooth against yours, his gentle touch on your face felt angelical. A moan escaped your lips as you felt his tongue touching the bottom of your lip as for asking permission to enter. The more passionate the kiss got the wetter and messy it got. Whimpers and kissing sounds lingered around the room, the back ground music from the party adding to the vibe.

The whole situation was a mess, two people that didn’t like each other craving for each other touch— its funny how unexpected life is… isn’t it?

He sat you on his lap, your hips grinding on his thigh begging for friction. He caressed your body so gently, god damn he was driving you insane. He was trying to engrave every sensation into his brain, taking in your scent, your vanilla perfumed combined with the intoxicating smell of tequila. He gasped in delight, slowly pecking your neck and nibbling your ear.

“I hate you” He groaned as you moved your hand down to touch his boner, you chuckled “Always had an impact on me like you put me on some type of smell” He whispered against your ear as he placed his hands on yours hips to help you get some friction.

You threw your head back and moaned slightly “I hate that you are not mine” He said softly, his words making you stop to look at him. His look. In that moment you felt like you were the most gorgeous woman in this earth.

The way he looked softly at you with his eyes. Minho was bad with feelings but his eyes never lie. You took a moment to process the situation, your neck felt sore, probably adorned with a couple hickeys. Your lips were plumped. The man you were sitting on had a lipstick trail from his face to his chest. His white shirt was unbuttoned, his hair was messy.

Was this a dream? You confirmed it wasn’t when he kissed you again this time, slowly more passionate… it felt intimate yet slutty. That kiss unveiled a thousand feelings that were trapped in a jar of hate. “God damn I can’t let go” He said in between kisses while groaning.

You were both getting drunk on each other, it was a passionate feeling you have never experienced before, the fact he was someone you thought you hated with your whole soul made it more intriguing… more risky.

You two were so captive by the moment that the laugh echoing behind you was ignored by your brain until a bright light illuminated the room. Both of you jumping off each other to stare as Jisung and Yeji who were laughing their asses off.

Yeji stopped laughing to groan at Jisung “Guess I owe you $50 now” She rolled her eyes handing the money to Jisung, who kissed the money and placed it on his pocket. Jisung giggled, slowly walking out with Yeji “You too keep doing your lovers thing” He teased before closing the door.

Minho and you shared an embarrassed look before laughing “Why don’t we move this matter to my house?” You said in a mischievous tone “I don’t know what you are talking about” He teased, while buttoning his shirt “But I would love to” He smiled at you genuinely before reaching to grab your hand and walk out of the party.

#lee know #skz smut #skz fluff #lee know fluff #lee know smut #stray kids #lee know imagines #leeknow smut #minho smut #enemies to lovers #lee minho smut #lee know x reader #leeknow imagine #oneshot #shu porang porang linos

627 notes · View notes

hawkinsquarry · 10 months

Text

don’t think twice, it’s alright

part 1/6 of wraith pinned to the mist

summary: you’re hellbent on keeping steve safe, but he’s just as hellbent on the same with you. [post s4, some canon divergence]

contains: steve x reader; gender unspecified reader; hurt/comfort with steve receiving; unrealized feelings; descriptions of blood/wounds and stitches; alive eddie we can’t do this without him gang

author’s note: idk. idk guys i just love him

He’s groggy. Waking up slowly and gently. Disoriented and so tired he’d might as well give up, but the voices he hears pulls him awake. His heavy lidded eyes slowly force their way open, revealing nothing but a very dark blur.

“Hey,” he hears. He can suddenly feel hands on his forehead, something hard pressed into his thigh. His brows furrow and a bit of panic kicks in. The last thing he remembers is an ungodly creature swinging at him, and now he’s here.

“Hey,” he hears again, and it’s a little clearer now. He relaxes, blinks a couple of times until his vision focuses in on you. “Steve.”

“Oh,” he sighs, relaxing. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you smile. Your hands are on his forehead and it’s then that he notices the dull ache there. He winces and tries to move a hand up, but yours gently pushes it back down. His stomach flips but he doesn’t have his bearings enough to understand why. If he’d been a little less dizzy, he would have noticed the blood on your fingers. “Easy, Steve. It’s okay.”

“‘s goin’ on?” he slurs.

“Nothin’ really,” you say. Something touches right above his eyebrow. “You got a little scratch, that’s all. You remember waking up a few minutes ago?”

He thinks about it hard for a minute before shaking his head. He feels like he would have remembered if you were there. “Uh-uh.”

“That’s okay.” Your voice is warm and soothing. Steve leans into it, relaxing a little further, letting you do whatever. “I’m just patching it up, okay? Do you hurt anywhere?”

He scrunches his nose and thinks about it again. “Feel kinda weird.”

“Yeah,” you laugh lightly. “Eddie gave me a Vicodin for you, probably feeling that.”

“Mmm.”’

“You ever have it before?”

He focuses on your voice. “Party once.”

“Really? Who’d’ve thought, huh?”

He smiles lazily, one eye falling shut as the other stays open. His vision is clearing now. Your face is inches from his as you examine the scratch on his forehead, your brows furrowed and your lips downturned. He frowns then, too. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you say again. “Trying to figure out if you have highlights.”

He sighs. With your face so close to his, all he can really feel is a longing that tugs deep in his chest and makes his stomach flip. The pads of your fingers work easy on him, and he can see you biting your cheek in concentration. If he had the energy, he’d lean up to kiss you; instead, he lays and watches, melting at your attention.

“Where are we?”

“Nancy’s.” You pull away with a cotton gauze pad and his eyes widen at the blood. “No, it’s okay, Steve, it’s not bad. Promise. Robin says she’s seen you look worse.”

“Robin,” he repeats. “Where’s Robin?”

“She’s safe, she’s here,” you soothe. Something wet touches his forehead and he correctly assumes it’s rubbing alcohol. He can’t feel the sting, but the smell makes him shiver, albeit quells his nausea. “She’s upstairs with everyone. Everyone’s safe.”

Steve closes his eyes and exhales shakily. He jumps a little when you take his hand, giving it a little squeeze. He feels warm at the attention.

“You did good,” you whisper. “But if you ever jump out in front of something again, I’m gonna kill you.”

He laughs bluntly and forces his eyes open again. You’re away from him now. He deflates, searching for you, finding you again in front of him packing up a first aid kit. He sees some floss unraveled and his brows knit together again.

“What’s the floss for?”

“Don’t move your eyebrows, okay? You’ll make it bleed again.”

He gives up on the floss, watching you roll it back up. You grab something small and press it into your palm, which he now realizes is covered in blood. He gasps and tries to sit up, but you quickly shush him and push him back down onto the blankets and pillows below him.

“It’s okay -“

“Why are you bleeding?” he asks, his voice cracking, that panic coming back even though he’s almost delusional with sedation. “What happened?”

You blink. “It’s old blood, I’m not bleeding. I promise.”

“Did something hurt you?” he’s trying to push up again, and you lay him back down, holding him there gently with your hands. “What did I do?”

“You did nothing!” You’re almost admonishing him for it, eyes wild with something Steve can’t decipher. “You - Steve, Christ, you make me so mad sometimes.”

“Why?” he asks stupidly.

Your jaw sets and tears pool in your lash line. “Because - I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Can you please just lay here for me?”

He’ll find out later that the blood on your hands is his, but he’s quick to follow your instructions, especially after seeing you so upset. You tuck him in with a blanket, your blood caked hands pushing his hair away from his face. “I’m just going to clean up, okay? Gonna let everyone know you’re alright, and we’ll be back. Do you feel okay?”

Steve can only stare at you. You’re so pretty when you’re upset, and he knows he shouldn’t think that, but wow. Your eyes really sparkle when they’re wet. You’re an angel above him in the dim light of the Wheeler’s basement, a lamp on behind you acting as a halo. He licks his lips and tastes metal, but he doesn’t quite notice. “You’ll come back?”

You sigh and cup his cheek. “Yeah, Steve, I’ll be back, okay?”

He reaches up to put his hand over yours. “Okay.”

It’s not that he’s never really noticed you before, or how his chest gets tight when you’re around, or how he feels like he’d rather go mad and get hurt than ever see you bleed. But it’s like he’s gotten some sense knocked into him. As he watches you descend upstairs, a harsh tug pulls between his nose and throat. He has to focus to not cry, not wanting his brows to furrow and make him bleed like you warned. A shaking, painful exhale escapes his lips. He wants to be good for you and listen to you and never make you mad at him again.

But, that all said, he’ll jump in front of a thousand Demogorgons if it kept you safe.

You could hear everyone pacing upstairs while you stitched Steve up, and as you push the door open with your hip, holding your hands up and away from you, everyone sprints over. They look at you expectantly, a little too intensely, and you have to laugh a little. “He’s okay.”

Robin sighs, eyes avoiding your hands. “He’s an idiot,” she says, for the millionth time. “He’s such an idiot.”

Eddie’s got his head in his hands at the kitchen island. He’s been offering everyone Ativan, but he’s the only one who’s taken any. When he looks up at you he fake gags at the blood on your hands. You roll your eyes and head for the sink, grateful when Jonathan turns it on for you.

“So, he’s okay?” Nancy asks, stepping towards you. “No, like, lasting damage?”

“Uh.” You think about an answer as you lather up your hands. For the first time, your stomach twists at it. You’d been so focused on being a caretaker that you hadn’t had time to think about everything, but now you feel squeamish. “He might have a scar, and I’m pretty sure he’s on concussion twenty-three, but he’s alert.”

You can’t bring him to the hospital because you’d have to admit you were, in fact, monster hunting, which was a punishable offense. You’re thankful Nancy owned a needle and thread - Steve may have bled out otherwise. One wrong move for any of you could be fatal, even if it could typically be cured with medical attention. You force yourself to not think about that now, about the words he said downstairs, about the way his soft brown eyes were looking at you.

“Can we go see him?” Robin asks, halfway through the door.

“Is he still all - like -“ Eddie says, gesturing to his face and making a blech! noise.

“It’s mostly cleaned up,” you say, scrubbing your nails against the palm of your hand, Karen Wheeler’s pristine sink turning crimson. “He’s still handsome, Eddie, don’t worry. Just - don’t say anything to scare him, alright? He doesn’t know he’s stitched up.”

You’re left alone at the sink, illuminated with red and orange from the outside, a thin curtain blocking your view. You try to be as precise as possible with cleaning yourself up so Steve doesn’t worry again. You’re going to rip him a new one when he’s better, lambast him for ever asking what he did wrong when the only thing he’s ever done was care too much and think too little about himself.

You hear their words downstairs - Robin’s thick voice, Eddie’s exclamations - you looked so badass, dude, you busted that thing up! You think of Dustin and the kids, how mad they were that they weren’t allowed to come with you all tonight, but you all decided to not take any chances with them. You know Dustin’s going to lose his shit the moment he sees the criss-cross pattern on Steve’s forehead and you wonder momentarily if you should give him a call to prepare him.

Just as you’re turning off the sink, Jonathan comes bounding up the stairs, looking a little disheveled.

“Don’t like blood?” you ask, wiping your hands with a paper towel.

“Ha,” he deadpans. “He asked for you.”

Your lips pull into a tight line because you know he’s high on painkillers and he’s fixating on you because you’re the first person he saw when he woke up. Probably has questions about what’s happening, or what the hell you did to him. But when you make it downstairs and kneel beside him, he just frowns. “Where’d you go?”

“Had to clean my hands,” you say, holding them up for him. “All better, see?”

He looks past them and at your face. “You said you’d be back.”

“I am now, aren’t I?”

“Good,” he says, laying back and closing his eyes. “Don’t leave again.”

You swallow, chest aching. “Okay.”

“These guys can go.” He waves his hand lazily. “So goddamn loud.”

Eddie proves his point by bursting into laughter, making Steve wince.

“Okay,” you repeat. “How about we all try to rest a little? It’s almost morning, anyway.”

As everyone disperses, finding their own places among blanket forts and pillows, Steve stares at you very seriously.

You reach forward to ruffle his hair. “What are you thinkin’ about?”

He continues to stare, and just when it’s starting to worry you, he finally blinks like he snapped out of a trance. “Will you stay close to me?”

You laugh softly. “You want your nurse nearby, huh?”

“Huh? No, just you.”

Robin makes a noise off to the side - she’s still close enough to monitor him but far enough away that he can’t kick at her. When you look, she’s fighting back a smile, and the idea that she’s seeing this too makes your chest hot. You look back at him, his eyes already closed, gorgeous and miserable.

“Okay,” you whisper, grabbing a pillow and laying it next to him. His arm searches for you, finding your forearm, and he grips it.

“Don’t leave,” he says again, his voice quaking a little.

“I won’t,” you swear, glancing at the wound on his forehead, an anger swelling inside of you unbearably. “I’m right here.”

#han posts #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader

488 notes · View notes

fatliberation · 7 months

Text

The Fat Protestor

by @sparklejams and @jordallenhall

For everyone showing up to protest the US government funding of a genocide -- be loud, be safe. Your body is a force. If you are able, use it.

Police identify people by body type/clothing. Be aware (as if you could possibly forget) that you don't have the privilege of blending into the crowd.

Be aware that fatmisic police protocol and infrastructure can endanger your life during arrest.

Let this inform the risk that you take.

If you get arrested: raise hell about being cuffed with your hands in front of your body.

Mid-fat, super-fat, and infinifat people are especially at risk of positional asphyxia when cuffed with their arms behind them. Be especially vocal about any stress position where your knees are raised (sitting on a low police van bench, for instance).

Police typically don't listen to folks when concern is expressed over being cuffed in the back -- be loud. Verse yourself and your community in de-arresting practice. These risks are not commonly known, though are present not only for fat people, but also those with asthma and other breathing difficulties.

Make sure the people you are with are informed of these risks before protesting.

Direct action is sweaty. Prepare against crease rashes (yep - it's a normal self care maintenance thing if you have skin rolls/folds. It's normal. It's common. It's nothing to be ashamed about.) by drying with paper towels, using antiperspirant or cornstarch under your breasts/belly. When you get home, shower and treat with a wound cleanser (shoutout bactine spray) or a tea tree oil balm or soap as needed.

Our fat bodies are magnificent contributions at protests. Our fat bodies take more effort to move - think of all the wonderful ways we can use this to our advantage at a protest or direct action. We can block pathways and hold precious land with our fat bodies. We can shield and protect precious people with our fat bodies.

Bring:

• Change of socks. If you get caught in the rain or doused with water, or even if you sweat through your socks - walking around in wet socks will cause bad blistering.

• Light first aid/bandaids

• Water, snacks, meds

• A physical copy of your emergency contact in case of arrest

Try to go with other fat people. Comrades in normative bodies may not always consider your body and what is safe for you - so make sure you loudly advocate for yourself and your needs within whatever group you are with.

Stay cool. Take breaks. Sit or stop when you need to. Try to be hyper-mindful of getting overheated.

In case of hospitalization:

• Make a packet containing all medical info, advance directives, and emergency contacts. Put it in a clear sleeve with a humanizing photo of you with loved ones at the front.

• Learn more about how to make a Connection Kit and humanize yourself to healthcare workers in the Know Your Rights Guide on nobodyisdisposable.org

Remember that there is so much to do beyond the front lines.

• Provide jail support (wait to greet released protesters with water, snacks, hugs, and rides home).

• Provide your home as a central prep and recovery space before/after.

• Stay near the action and offer your car as a mobile phone charging station.

• Provide childcare.

• Drop off supplies.

Honor your body as a resource for civil disobedience. Center your needs.

#fat activism #activism #protesting #the fat protestor #free palestine

379 notes · View notes

chalkscene · 2 years

Text

tokyo revengers ⇢ “I CAN HOLD THE WORLD IN MY HANDS”

how the tokrev boys react to you saying you can hold the world in your hands then gently cupping their face [part two]

ft. manjiro “mikey” sano, ken “draken” ryuguji, chifuyu matsuno & rindou haitani

warnings: mention of wounds in mikey’s but everything else is just fluff <3

MIKEY comes home, a bit bruised and bloody and though “a bit” is already too much for you, this has become a routine—you walk together to the bathroom, mikey leaning on the counter while you rummage through the first aid kit. “i was so cool out there, baby. you should’ve seen the other guys,” he brags, breaking the heavy silence, as you dab the ointment over the last of his cuts. something beneath his proud tone tells you he’s doing it to alleviate your worries so you decide to play along. “wanna see something cooler? i can hold the world in my hands.” he straightens up, pure excitement written all over his expression, “show me.” cautious of his fresh wounds, you carefully frame his face with your hands. if you haven’t been paying close attention, you would’ve missed the way his smile slightly wobbles. “i’m your world?” “my whole world, mikey.” you place a featherlight kiss over one of his bandages and when you pull back to look at him, you find a layer of mist over his eyes. resting his forehead on yours, mikey exhales a shaky breath. “guess i gotta be more careful, huh?”

“you’re awfully quiet.” DRAKEN states, his back on you as he tinkers with his motorcycle but it’s not long before he’s glancing over his shoulder, eyeing you suspiciously. “what did you do?” “i’m literally just sitting here,” you say too defensively which makes him chuckle. he gets on his feet to dust off his hands on his uniform before walking over to you. “i’ll be done in ten minutes,” he promises as he leans in to press his lips on yours tenderly. you bring your hands up to his cheeks, refusing to let him pull away an inch too far as your eyes stare into his. “what is it?” he asks. “just trying to see if i can hold the world in my hands.” draken’s quick to understand what you mean and he simply rolls his eyes but you catch the slight twitch in the corners of his lips as they quirk up. ��sap.” he gently grabs your face, pecking you on the nose. “you’re my world, too.”

“look! i’m holding the world in my hands.” you tenderly take CHIFUYU’s face in your hands, expecting him to blush like he usually does at your affectionate gestures but he only rolls his eyes in exasperation. “yeah, yeah, i know. because my head is round,” he grumbles and you can’t help but let out a snort. “what?” “that’s getting real old, babe.” he pouts, not wanting to hear another remark from you about his haircut making his head look like an almost perfect circle. “no, baby,” you tell him, barely able to contain your giggles, “i mean, yes. that, too.” chifuyu is about to peel your hands away when you add: “i meant you’re my world.” you’re still laughing but he no longer minds it as a smile stretches across his face. “then that makes you my sunshine.”

you straddle RINDOU’s lap from where he’s sat on the bed, scrolling away on his phone. when you don’t say a word, he tears his eyes away from the screen to shoot you an unimpressed look. “what are you doing?” biting your lip to hold back a giggle, you gently cup his face. “i’m holding the world in my hands.” rindou’s expression doesn’t light up but you notice a tint of red beginning to dust his cheeks. you don’t bother to stifle your laugh this time. “you’re so cute, rin.” at your cooing, a scowl forms on his visage. some days, even in the privacy of your home, rindou will just not admit he likes to be coddled too—this is one of those days. “whatever,” he grumbles, “i can do it, too.” he tosses his phone onto the bed and puts both of his hands over your face. “rin!” you giggle, the sound muffled against his palms, as you try to push him off by the wrists. he laughs at your struggle and eventually lets up, sliding his hands to your jaw. “come here,” he says before pressing his lips on yours.

#tokrev #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers #tokrev x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #manjiro sano #mikey x reader #manjiro sano x reader #ken ryuguji #draken x reader #ken ryuguji x reader #chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #rindou haitani #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader

5K notes · View notes

letsquestjess · 18 days

Text

The Bad Batch and A Day at the Beach (TBB x GN!Reader)

Summary: What could be more perfect than a day at the beach with the Batch?

Warnings: Going to put an 18+ on this one simply because Hunter likes to get a bit handsy.

A/N: Happy May 4th everyone! After the end of The Bad Batch, I got something together to spread some smiles. May the force be with you!

-- -- -- -- --

Hunter

The beach holds a special place in Hunter’s heart, especially the less-crowded, secluded spots. And spending a day at the beach with the person he loves? Perfection. He couldn’t think of a better way to make memories with loved ones than in the great outdoors, surrounded by the soothing sound of waves lapping the shore and the tranquil atmosphere.

On a sunny afternoon, he proposed the idea of heading to the beach, and in no time, you found yourself descending the steps to the sand. He was the first to make it onto the smooth stretch, his eyes scanning for the perfect, remote spot. You followed along, the grains comfortably warm beneath your feet as you helped him set up the towels and the parasol. You’d had the foresight to put on your swimming gear before heading out, and as soon as Hunter saw you, he couldn’t resist touching you. He softly muttered compliments in your ear and hinted at going for a refreshing swim. The cooling waters beckoned you to stay a little longer, and you happily obliged, splashing each other until you were both completely drenched. The feeling of the water against your skin was pure bliss as you savoured it before drying off. Reluctant to leave, you both spent the evening strolling along the beach, feeling the sand between your toes, and your hand in his. Eventually, you found a flat rock to sit on, where you snuggled close and watched sun setting behind the crashing waves.

Echo

Although Echo doesn’t have a strong dislike for the beach, it can be quite time-consuming due to the risk of grains interfering with his mechanics, so he prefers to plan and allow plenty of time before heading to the coast. He can be counted on to bring a beach bag packed with everything you could need. Towels, sun cream, bottles of water, insect repellent, a little first aid kit with bacta and plasters, spare hats because there is always someone who forgets theirs. He is well prepared.

When you and Echo first went to the beach together, it took him a little while to unwind, but after a short time, he found his spot next to you on the sand and let out a sigh of relief. It had been so long since you had seen him relaxed, and you couldn’t help but notice how he serenely closed his eyes to bask in the warmth of the sun. Having discovered a hidden spot, he felt confident enough to remove his shirt, and mindful not to disturb him, you nestled yourself in his lap. With an arched eyebrow at your blatant staring, he locked eyes with you and pulled you into a tight embrace. He had an afternoon of relaxation and the love of his life in his arms. What more could he want?

Wrecker

Wrecker absolutely delights in days at the beach. He rarely asks, not wanting to inconvenience anyone, but when he does, he packs every fun activity he can think of to share with you and his family. He wants to create lasting memories and by the stars does he make those days extra special for you.

During one outing to the beach, he insisted that you all play volleyball. The game proceeded with laughs and a few debates about the scoring, but you were all having fun. Wrecker sensed the opportunity for an equalising point and lifted you up as the ball soared over. You spiked it back down over the net and scored. Lowering you back down, he couldn’t contain his excitement and cheerfully jostled you. As soon as you touched the ground, he pulled you into a tender kiss that ignited a desire to score as many points as you could.

Crosshair

For the most part, Crosshair enjoys a day at the beach, but he has to take certain precautions to protect his sensitive eyes. As long as he has his super strength sunglasses, parasol, and cap, he’s ready for the sun. While he occasionally takes part in games, his favourite pastime is strolling hand in hand with you along the sand as if the entire galaxy exists solely for the two of you.

On one unforgettable occasion, he surprised you with a kite he had made. The breeze was just right, and he showed you how to operate it. With his guidance, you watched as the patterned fabric sailed against the clear blue sky. He was patient and gentle, and as you looked over your shoulder while he was explaining how to keep the strings steady, you noticed a calm reflected in his eyes. Catching him off guard, you kissed his cheek, and he lost his train of thought until you gently prompted him to continue his instructions.

Tech

Although Tech enjoys scanning and researching the coastal life, tides, and flora, he prefers spending most of his beach days engaged in conversation with you. The peaceful atmosphere provides him with the ideal setting to sit and chat with you, free from any distractions, in a space where he feels at ease.

During one of the brightest days on Pabu that year, Tech traipsed back from the shoreline with his trouser hems rolled up to dry off his feet. He stowed his datapad into the beach bag, and instead of rambling about his discoveries as he might have done in the past, he let you lie down in his lap. He soaked in the sunlight and grabbed some of the tiny fruit pieces you had packed. Popping one into his mouth, he put the next into yours. Throughout the afternoon, your conversation meandered from one topic to another, punctuated by bursts of laughter and little quips. Occasionally, Tech would surprise you with a gentle kiss on your palm as you reached up to brush sand off his cheek, or on your forehead as you shared a new childhood story with him. In his state of pure bliss, he showered you with kisses, relishing every moment of your perfect day together.

131 notes · View notes