#like i had to stop looking at articles about this last night bc some of them just fucking made me wild.
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the Damar Hamilin situation is horrific for a lot of reasons, obviously, but it still just... i am honestly at a loss for words at how the NFL is&has been handling it.
like, this wasn't a mistake or an accident, this was a function of the game&a clean play. there was no foul, as far as i could tell or have heard. an extremely healthy&well trained young man almost fucking died as a function of the game, &the NFL is not only trying to deny their callousness at the event in general:
they have got whole cardiologists on deck trying to explain what happened like it wasn't a CLEAN HIT THAT STOPPED HIS HEART ON NATIONAL TELEVISION:
[image text: From your perspective, what are the possible causes of Hamlin's cardiac arrest?
Dr. Baggish: There's a long list: there are genetic and congenital abnormalities which could be at play, I know there's been speculation about the blunt force from the tackle, but I would say that it's really premature to make any speculation. In fact, to jump to a conclusion would be a mistake. The diagnosis of commotio cordis, for example [which refers to a fatal disruption of the heart rhythm from a blow to the chest], is what we call a diagnosis of exclusion, meaning other things have been eliminated. We would never conclude that unless other factors have been ruled out. /text]
this shit is fucking evil.
#like i had to stop looking at articles about this last night bc some of them just fucking made me wild.#&like i just cant believe how comfortable this organization is about making it clear how disposable their players#are. i have so many feelings&thoughts about how this is supposed to be the dream for so many poor kids#esp poor kids of colour. how my brothers gave whole parts of their bodies as literal children to the cause of#sports scholarships&what potential that could give them. how not only is that already a pipe dream for the most part#but even the lucky ones end up. here.#arguing about their rights after a career worth of concussions&having literal brain damage played down#&thats without even getting into the very obvious racial aspect of things.#like i know i shouldnt be surprised at all after the last few years but. like is just.#like another article talks to a different cardiologist who calls this a 'rare condition' which only really impacts kids in sports.#&its like. okay so even when youre willing to acknowledge the reality of the situation you STILL need to act like this is a fReAk AcCiDeNt?#&your way to do that is by saying 'oh this usually only happens to KIDS who play these sports'?????? fucking WHAT???
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CAT-astrophic
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A/n: *pushes rock I live under over and peeks out of the black abyss* Hey, have you guys seen a Car Wash Miguel fic anywhere? I don't know what happened to it but it's no longer here. Might've escaped... anyways, watch this cat for me while I look? Thanks. And don't mind the hot homeless dude who talks to him, they're bonding. *returns into the depths of the void*
Summary: A hot dude won't stop talking to your cat, it's kind of freaking you out.
WC: 1.7k, edited by google docs...
Pairing: Miguel x GN!Reader
Warnings: crack fic, Spider-cat's real name is Sir Jeffords bc i said so, clueless reader, pro outdoor cat (i'm not actually, keep ur cats safe pls), future-ish?, accidentally snuck in some world building, in Lyla we trust 🙏, Miguel in tight clothing bc I also said so, and wait wtf are you doing with a dead rat miguel, AND WTF IS THIS WHITE STUFF DUDE?!
Also no Spanish bc I've done some research and those who do speak it have asked non-native speaker to avoid it, to prevent bad google translations and maintain respect!
Okay, enjoy~
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You were about to head in for the night when you were not tripped by your cat for his dinner. After a quick search around your apartment, you sighed upon realizing he was still outside. Shrugging on a coat, mismatched slippers, and grabbing a flashlight, you went out to look for him.
Plenty of people told you to keep your cat inside. That it was vital to their health to keep them safe indoors. There were plenty of articles stating the cons of letting a domesticated cat roam freely outside with no supervision. They were also written 80 years ago. The world has changed since then, drastically.
Sure, it would still be smart to keep Sir Jeffords inside. Less late night searches for him, no more worrying if that scratch on his right paw was from running too fast along pavement or something worse. But he came from the life of an alley cat, and no matter what you tried, he had to be out there for a few hours a day. Last time you tried to stop him, he went under your radar for three days. You had a panic attack, worried he didn't love you anymore, but he did eventually come back. Chipper and eager, and he made sure you left his cat door unlocked.
The streets were cleaner than 80 years ago. The people were kinder. The city more accommodating to everyone, even stray animals. Sir Jeffords was mirco chipped, and even if it didn't work for tracking half the time, the shelter folks could scan his neck and drop him back home.
There were no pounds or pest controls anymore, just volunteers who helped poor animals stay warm. And find whoever left them in the streets. It was a crime to leave them now, resulting in 6 months of detention if caught dumping your animal friend into the alleys.
Jeffords was a smart cat. He knew what he was doing. You trusted him. In the event of something bad happening, you made him swore he would come find you right away. Though he couldn't speak, his tail wrapping around your pinky seemed solid enough.
You called out his name, followed by a few 'pspspsps's to really seal the deal. Your flashlight shining in the darker corners of the streets he may be hiding in. Cats and their dark, unreachable corners, Sir Jeffords fell victim to any cozy spot he could barely tuck himself into.
It wasn't until a few blocks away, a little past the bank, when you heard a meow. Very similar to his, you quietly sped your pace, wanting to grab your kitty and go home. The closer you got, it seemed more like he was responding to someone else more than you.
"-and your service is always appreciated." You heard a deep voice whisper. Their voice a grumble echoing through the alley they hid in. "You're one of our best." Your brows pinching together, you turned the corner of the bank, flashlight illuminating your fluffy orange cat. Who was rubbing up against the shin of a random man.
He looked up at you, eyes darkened as he blocked your flashlight with his large hand. They almost seemed red as he stayed squatted, Sir Jeffords head butting his knee. His face pure sharp angles, with a scowl permanently in place. His black shirt a tight, compressing fit. Clinging to each muscle and vein in his arm, stopping halfway down his bicep. His calves just as impressive. His shorts doing nothing but making him look even hotter.
Wait, no. This was a random man, he wasn't hot.
You lowered the light and gave an awkward smile. Seemingly unimpressed, his hardened gaze turned back to your cat. "He's yours?" He asked, voice rumbling low in his chest. With a nod, he added, "He's... cute."
Okay, maybe he was a little hot.
"Right?" Your smile smoothed into something more natural. "He's the cutest cat to ever exist." You lowered yourself down onto your knees with a soft baby call. Sir Jeffords trotting into your lap happily, orange fur swaying with his steps.
Your hand ran through his silky fur. Tension easing from you as you held him close again. Though his three day disappearance had yet to happen again, you still worried. He was your precious baby, after all. The one you shared everything with, and he never once judged.
Your fingers caught on something sticky, stopping short of his lower back. Pulling your hand away, strings of white followed, sticking to your fingertips. The feeling moist and far too clingy for comfort. A disgusted shiver ran up your spine at the horrible sensory.
The man stood then, tossing a tissue at you as he did. His gaze stayed on your cat, never faltering. He pushed his dark hair away from his face, still scowling.
Glancing between your hand and the man that now towered over you, you almost gagged. This wasn't... his, right?
"It was the rat." Like he read your mind, the mysterious stranger held out his other hand. A dead rat laid in his palm.
"That... doesn't make me feel much better." You suppressed another full body shake, quickly wiping your hand off. This guy may be extremely attractive to look at but the longer you stayed there, the more uncomfortable you got. "How would a mouse... And what is this?" You felt yourself getting sick as you held the tissue out, the white stuff now sticking to the paper instead
"Webs. And, it's a rat." He stated with a straight face. More angry at your confusion than anything. "Chased him through some spider webs."
You let out a soft 'oh.' But that didn't explain why he was holding onto the dead rat.
And he let it stay that way. Instead of reading your mind like he had been this entire time, he just... walked off. With a dead animal in his grasp. Without a word.
Your confused gaze turned to your cat, knees beginning to ache from the pressure of concrete beneath. Sir Jeffords purred into your stomach loudly.
"You're not allowed to hang out with that guy, ever again."
...
"Christ!" Miguel tossed the rat at the wall, hearing him curse. The small animal glitched into a grown adult, body morphing sickly. "That..." The villain panted, rubbing at his neck. Bruises from how tightly he was held already forming there. "... was not what I was expecting."
Miguel squatted back down, balancing on his toes as the hologram of regular clothes shifted back into his suit. "You chose to become a rat, in a world whose Spider-Man is a cat." He slammed down a disk, red netting encasing the fool. "That was your own fault."
"It was the only way I could get into the bank!" The villain squeaked. Miguel tuned out almost immediately, eyes turning to his watch. Setting the portal to his universe, and making sure he wasn't needed elsewhere. He entertained the villain in a tacky grey suit with distant hums and 'oh, yeah, uh-huh's. It was best to just let them get it out of their system then try to shut them up.
"And I would've gotten away with it, too! If it weren't for you and your cat!" The shape shifter writhed in the nets.
"Sound like a damn Scooby-Doo villain." Miguel stood up with a huff. He would never admit it, but Hobie used the term so often, he had to look up what he was referencing. Only to end up watching the first few seasons. He had to stop around the third season, a sick sense of deja vu hitting him with a bat. The cartoons reminded him too much of the daughter he never really had.
With a sigh, "Lyla," He called.
The AI appeared before him, wearing a shit eating smirk. He opened his mouth to command something else when she beat him to it. "You should've asked for their number."
"What?" Miguel's head snapped up, eyes wide.
"They were cute, should've asked them on a date." She glitched to his side with a teasing laugh.
"Lyla, I... no." He grumbled, flicking at his watch.
"Oh, you know?" Miguel tried to smack her away, only for her to reappear on his left shoulder. "You should go back, then."
Miguel glared at her, ignoring how the tips of his ears began to burn. "I can't, its-"
"Not a canon event." They said at the same time. Lyla rolling her eyes behind her heart-shaped glasses, Miguel focusing on creating a portal. "You're such a loser, you know that?" She huffed and puffed, spawning with her back turned to him.
He tried to reach out with a heavy breath, but she moved further away. This time sitting with her arms crossed and pouting.
"They were cute." The villain nodded from his fetal position on the ground. Earning a glare from the two. Shrinking further into himself, the shape-shifter apologized.
Miguel thrust his forearms forward, his mantis blades catching on the fabric of time. Ripping them apart with a grunt. Orange and purple twisted in front of him, and he grabbed a hold of the red netting the anomaly was in.
"Meet me back at HQ," He spoke to his AI with a nod. Foot already in the portal, he turned to cast a menacing glance at Lyla. "And do not try anything."
She held up her hands in defense, watching the portal close behind him. It wasn't like she even had to do anything - not anymore. She already slipped his multiversal number into the collar of Spider-Cat. All that needed to happen was you either found it, or it fell out. Lyla just had to wait to see which option would be canon.
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Check out my Masterlist!
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x you#miguel x reader#spiderman atsv#miguel o'hara fanfiction#bruh writes#spiderverse fanfic#x you
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MIGUEL X GN VILLAIN SPIDER READER CHAPTER 2: The Calm Before The Storm
This chapter is gonna be short but A LOT starts happening in the next so for this one I just wanted it to be short and sweet. Like I said I do wanna post this on A03 aswell bc thats just better tumbler is kinda just a test run lol.
everything is going great for you and Miguel.
It had been a month since the bite. Miguel indulged himself in his work, meanwhile you were still figuring out what was going on with your body. Your body had changed, you were bigger and stronger. Just a week ago a web of some sort shot out of your wrist and you now noticed the small holes that were there, you weren’t crazy you knew that now but what did this mean? You spent weeks thinking to yourself replaying everything in your head that took place the last few weeks, it did take you a while to tie it back to the spider but when you did everything made sense.
You thought about telling Miguel but would he believe you? He was always more of a logical kind of guy and would probably just call you crazy, and honestly you wouldn’t blame him this WAS crazy. How the hell does a spider manage to give you “powers”? You always thought Alchemax was weird but not weird enough to carry super spiders.
It was almost 12 am when Miguel finally came home, exhausted as always. He had started working on a project and he was staying after hours at Achemax more often, you’re pretty sure he’s even spent the night there too. You tell him to take it easy but he just dismisses you saying its “groundbreaking.” Whatever, you thought, not more groundbreaking then what was happening to you.
“Hey.” your voice echoed in the kitchen,
Miguel jumped almost dropping his microwave dinner, “Good god! you cant just sneak up on me in the dark like that!” he said fixing his glasses. You turned on the kitchen light, your light sensitivity was getting better now it just took you a while to adjust to the light. Miguel really did look tired, he must’ve noticed your concern because he sighed, “I’m okay, please just stop worrying,” he said putting the dinner in the microwave and turning it on, a soft hum filling in the quiet space until you spoke. “Miguel I get it, whatever it is you’re working on is important but is it worth killing yourself over?” you said getting a sigh out of him, “I’m not-” he cut himself off and grumbled before continuing.
“I’m not killing myself, you just have to trust me on this one. What I’m doing is going to change the world,” he said, “I know, and I’m sure of it. Just take care of yourself big guy.” you say giving him a pat on the shoulder, he smiled at you grateful that at least someone believed in him.
Another month passed, you had gotten used to your abilities for the most part. Occasionally stopping a corner store robbery here and there, your presence was made known “spider-man” is what they called you, some low quality videos of you on the web and few dozen newspaper articles. You weren’t really sure if you want to be out there yet so you kept it lowkey for a while, Miguel had been planning some kind of showcasing for his project and you supported him on this idea. He still hadn’t really told you what it was, every time you asked he dodged the question like a bullet so you can’t lie that you were excited to see what he had been working on for all this time.
You unenthusiastically mopped the bathroom floor of Alchemax, this job was absolutely insufferable. it was quiet until Miguel barged through the door talking about a million miles per hour switching from Spanish to English, “Woah Woah, okay what?” you say stopping your movements. “The showcase is this Sunday, THIS SUNDAY.” he looked excited yet panicked at the same time pacing around the small space, “That’s great! What time? I’m totally going.” you ask trying to be supportive. “8 pm, there’s just so much to do. I’ve got to prepare and-” he takes a deep breath, “Very important people are going to be there I cant mess this up.” he says. “You wont, you’re freaking awesome there’s no way they’re gonna reject you.” You smile continuing to mop,
Your words seem to calm Miguel, he drags you into a big hug one that almost lifted your feet off the ground. You chuckle pulling away, “Okay okay, don’t you have a showcase to plan? Shoo,” you wave him away but he just stands in front of you with a giddy smile on his face. “You’re really important to me you know that? I swear you’re gonna be proud of me after this.” he said softly, “I already am.” you say in response to his heartfelt words. You two smile at each other for a little while more before he leaves, your heart felt heavy of love for him you would do anything for that man.
The next few days Miguel planned intensely for the showcase he needed everything to be perfect, he even bought a nice new suit for himself. You decided to follow in his footsteps and get something nice too for the showcase as well, you picked up a beautiful red and blue suit that would look great on you it even made you more excited to attend. Everything was okay, and going well you had never felt more like yourself. Spider man was showing up more and more over time, you weren’t so scared anymore.
#miguel x you#miguel o'hara x ftm reader#miguel x reader#spiderman miguel#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x male reader#miguel o'hara x afab reader#miguel o'hara
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salt, ice and fire | frank castle
chapter sixteen - talk is cheap
frank castle x fem!reader
warnings: canon typical violence, blood, death, swearing, mention of fire and like burning and stuff, its a bit sad at the end
words count: 6.1k
a/n: this took me a while bc i’ve been writing out so many requests but hopefully you all like it! the pressure is mounting guys the next few chapters shit is going down. hold onto ur hats. also i am so ready to write the next few chapters of this because its all coming together fajfejrnierifaeurngiar. eep.
[series masterlist] [previous chapter]
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Somehow you hear Frank’s phone buzzing somewhere in the room, the vibrating ring echoing on the hardwood floor. You were practically curled up in a ball, back pressed against Frank’s chest while he had his arm wrapped over you. Even while he was asleep you could tell how strong he was, arm still not fully relaxed, his hand almost holding onto you as if you would drift away in any moment. It was exactly the opposite of what you would do— of what you want to do.
I want to stay. Of course you did. Even if it wasn’t like this, the rise and fall of his finally relaxed breathing pressing you even closer - he was the only person who wasn’t afraid of you, who didn’t look at you like you were what you are. He understood— on some level or another. He wouldn’t force your hand, wouldn’t keep you anywhere you didn’t want to be. So, that became exactly the place you wanted most.
The fact that he was also, well, him— you still felt like you were floating even now, long after you had passed out from last night. You couldn’t help the way you shivered a little just thinking about it. He was sweet when you needed and rough when you asked, every part of your body felt like it had been changed permanently. You rolled over, his arm staying tight around you, and your face was nearly pressed to his as you shook him lightly.
“Frank.” You tried to whisper, the phones ringing stopping for a short second, and then picking up again. Clearly, whoever it was needed him now, and being around him long, there’s only one person who calls him period, let alone this early. He still doesn’t budge. “Frank.”
“Shh.” He groans and nearly smothers you as both his arms link around your frame, every sense surrounded by him. “Sleep.”
“Your phone.” He takes in a deep breath, and your face buries into the new space, finding his collarbone. You press your mouth to his skin, getting distracted when he almost moans at the touch.
“S’ Madani. She’ll call back.” He moves his head higher, and your mouth trails up, kissing his neck, just under his jawline. One of his hands finds the back of your neck, threading slowly up through your hair.
“She already has.” He still holds you where you are, teeth and tongue working to give him matching bruises where you are sure you are covered in them. “Might be important. The article. From Karen.”
“Give me one minute, baby. One more minute of you.” Smiling, you make your move and push him onto his back, leg swinging over his torso. Neither of you bothered to put actual clothes on last night— you in one of Franks shirts and him in nothing at all. Both of you sigh a little when you drop your weight on top of him, and you pin his arms up near his head, leaning down to kiss him.
He gives up control easily, letting you take whatever you want from him. You stay slow, sleep still clouding half your brain. He moves a little underneath you and you let him, legs spreading wider. He groans into your mouth and you roll your hips, desperately aware of how he reacts to the small movement. You swear you could still taste yourself on his tongue, and he leans forward as you begin to shuffle down. Maybe more than just a minute…
The phone buzzes again, somehow louder now, the vibrations moving it closer to where you and Frank have claimed a corner of the bed.
“Pass it to me.” He whispers, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth. Your eyes nearly roll back at the look he gives you, but you bend down and grab the phone, reluctantly handing it to him despite knowing he needs to answer it. “Better be good, Madani.”
“Did you get the paper this morning?” You can hear the agent say through the phone, and Franks free hand falls to your hip, pulling at the hem of the shirt you were wearing.
“I got a good idea what it says.”
“I should of expected you to blow this thing into extreme proportions. It’s seven thirty and I already have four dead Gnucci foot soldiers spread out across 5th Avenue.” Your eyes widen a little at that. Sure, it was part of the plan— turn the two gangs against each other and lighten the load for you and Frank to inevitably tear to pieces. You were just surprised it had happened so soon.
“Karmas a bitch, ain’t it?” His thumb runs circles along your hipbone, goosebumps rising under his touch. You can see him smile when he notices. “I’m a busy man, so unless you got something for me…”
“I know where the brother is.” Franks hand freezes on your hip and your body goes tight. “The men who were killed— one of them had a comm leading through a secure network. I got to it, gave it to someone I trust back at base. There’s a hold out near…” The rest of the conversation fades off, you only getting parts that from where you are, it would take about seven hours to get to where your brother is.
Frank sits up, and it hits you all at once, almost like a punch to the gut. Your brother— the one you had been searching for, fighting for your entire life. The one you had killed for. He was only seven hours away.
“And Frank—“ Madani says as you start to focus back into the conversation. “—there’s going to be a time in this where I have to start connecting dots.” Frank looks at you, a strange emotion on his face somewhere between concern and…
“Just say it, Madani.”
“I’ve already got men breathing down my neck asking about my source for the Silo incident, and now with this article… shits hitting the fan, and all eyes are on me. When her brother is out, I need to bring her in.” His face twitches, nose scrunches almost when she says it. You knew it was inevitable. You were marked as immediate disposal on your file. Back then, you didn’t really give a shit if you got out alive or not, as long as your brother was safe. Looking down at Frank, you think of one more thing you would want to protect.
“I already told you-“
“I know what you told me. I’m not putting her in a bunker, but I need a paper trail. Something I can use to clear all this shit up. And I need more information. You may want to be in and out with as many bodies as possible, but this network runs deeper than you can imagine. I need to think of the bigger picture.” Frank says something like ‘whatever’ and hangs up the phone, tossing it onto the floor.
“Seven hours away.” You say and he nods, his hand still frozen at your hip.
“I won’t let anything happen t’you.” You start to lift yourself off him, but something about the way he looks at you makes you pause. There’s only been a few times when you can’t place the emotion he’s looking at you with. You were pretty good at reading people, and you were practically versed in Frank, but with his wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, you just paused. Then, lean down to kiss him lightly.
“Thank you.” You feel his free hand hold the back of your neck, pressing your forehead to his. His eyes close, and yours stay open, watching the displaced emotion melt away. He nods again, and lets you go, throwing the covers off himself and finally getting out of bed.
Both of you waste no time, getting dressed with new clothes and restocking with food as best you can with what Karen still has around. You eat whatever you can find, chewing through fruit and the rest of Karen’s honey oats, Frank eating whatever you don’t. After you had practically ransacked the place, Frank wrote a quick note and left the key on the counter, grabbing your bags and heading to the door.
Your hand goes to the door knob, and both of you freeze.
You don’t have to open it to know who’s on the other side. You know those footsteps, the weight of them, how he leans slightly to the left because he got shot when he was 18 and it never really healed right. You know his breathing, laboured now he had made it up the steps to the apartment. You knew the sound of his voice, how he told the two other men with him not to knock the door down. Told them to wait, that he wanted to be the one to talk.
Frank’s artillery was swung over his shoulder, another bag in his hand, while yours was on your back. The cool metal of the barrel of the gun Frank forced you to carry around was a glaring reminder of where you were, and how the man on the other side of the door was far more apt at using it. You also weighed your options. You could kill him now— you knew where your brother was. You just had to make it there before his men could send the order. Not that they would be able to if you could kill them, too—
“Good morning, sunshine.” His voice was rough, mocking as the nickname floated into your ears making you want to hurl. Frank pressed closer, shoving you away from the door a little. “I know you’re in there.”
The shock of him really being here was starting to set in. Bobby Gnucci never got his hands dirty. Never put himself in the firing line. When you’re that rich, you can buy people to stand in front of you. Why the hell was he here, then? And how the hell did he find you?
“Nice place here. I’m sure Ms. Page would be upset if we shot through her lovely oak door. Why don’t you come out and we can talk like adults.” The mention of Karen’s name made you both pull out your weapons. “That is what you are, yes? An adult? You so often reminded me that is what you are now.”
You go to open your mouth to reply, but Frank shakes his head and nods towards the window. The fire escape would lead you right down to the car. Was he suggesting you leave? Now, when Bobby was right there?
“You know, it’s a shame, really. About The Colonel. As pathetic as he was, the man sure had a knack for politics. But a gun shot to the head? That’s not how I raised you, is it sunshine?”
Frank starts to pull you back, further inside the apartment. You try to ask why - why the hell wouldn’t you take them on, take them here? He just shakes his head, jaw clenched. You knew if there was a reason Frank wasn’t killing anyone, it was probably a good one.
“And I did. Raise you. You were so young, when we first met. I guess I was, too. Clearly we’ve both changed. Ms. Page didn’t recognise my voice when I called to meet her, and doesn’t have the slightest clue she’s sitting in a cafe with my best hit man right now.” Fuck. That’s why Frank wasn’t shooting. “Change is for the best sometimes. Even if it comes at a cost.”
“What do we do?” You mouth at Frank. His eyes are trained on you. Before he answers, Bobby speaks again.
“If you don’t open the door, I’ll have my men shoot Ms. Page where she sits. One word from me and they’d tear your brother apart, too.” You squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t see Franks face when you speak.
“What do you want?” You sound cold— a tone of voice you haven’t used in months.
“Ahh. There you are.” He sighs through the door, and you take a step closer. Franks eyes widen, standing in front of you. “What I want. I think I have made that fairly clear, no? You have made things decidedly harder for me with this article, you see. My men question my loyalty, question if I am still in my right mind, chasing a ghost such as yourself.”
You take another step and Franks forearm stops you, pushing you away from the door. You shove him back, instead pushing him towards the window. If he could make it out undetected—
“I want you. I want you by my side.”
“You want me as your weapon.”
“Does one not hold their weapon at their side? Care for it? Tend to it, keep it safe? You would not know, to be fair. I’ve given you no reason to ever need one.” Your grip around the gun tightens. You mouth ‘go’ to Frank, but he just stands there. You do it again, and pull the gun out, training it on the door. Frank finally manages to move, seeing you with the weapon. If he doesn’t get a head start, he won’t make it to the building. “Open the door, and I’ll take you to your brother, and we can go back to how it was.”
“When you locked me up?” Frank had moved, but only towards you, hands coming lightly under your chin. You tell him to go again, and you think he might kiss you. His hand drops and wraps over yours, the one holding the gun. He trains it on the door and angles you so that you are as close the the open window as possible, laying out your exit.
“As soon as that door opens, leave. Come to me. Get him to open the door, and come to me.” He whispers in your ear, lips brushing against the sensitive skin.
“You know why I did that. You disobeyed me.” Bobby’s voice breaks you away from Frank. He needs to open the door. An idea starts to spark.
“I fucked someone else. That’s why you did it.” Frank looks at you one last time before he turns to the window, and he almost looks like he’s smirking.
“That is not why.” Bobby sounds through the door, shakier than before.
“The Colonel told me. That you think I’m some kind of gift to you, from your father-“
“Don’t talk about my father!” He shouts, and Frank has already disappeared, hopefully dropping down the fire escape and in the car already. “He is dead.”
“Clearly. If he were alive, you wouldn’t have lost four men this morning.”
“Open the door.”
“If he were alive, he would have killed me the moment I stepped out of line. But you couldn’t, could you?”
“You are on thin ice. Open this door, now.” He says, angrier. Good. You want him angry. Angry enough that he will burst inside. Or at least, the guards will. Them, you can kill without blinking.
“You couldn’t kill me. That’s why you locked me up in there. You really are obsessed.” You bite out, mocking thick in your voice. All the anger of all those years you spent with him bubbles to the surface. You only wish you could see his face. “It wasn’t that you needed me. It’s that you wanted me. You just didn’t have the balls to do anything about it.”
“I will break this door down-“
“You had all those years to watch me, train me like some prized bull, and build the perfect weapon. Your father knew you couldn’t do it alone, that’s why he started it without you. He died thinking you would at least have the brains to finish it for him, but you just fucked it up again, didn’t you?”
“Shut the fuck up! I will kill him you—“ He was yelling now, screaming. You imagine his face bright red, an ugly vein popping out of his forehead, more prominent now he was older.
“You could only think with your dick! You locked me up because you were jealous and ruined your fathers legacy, and now you need me to fix it for you!” The door burst in and you pulled the trigger, the body of the first guard hitting the floor before the frame of the oak wood did.
The second guard faltered, not expecting you to be armed, and all that training with Frank flooded back to you. As soon as she stutters you fire again, a bullet flying through his throat and ricocheting onto the drywall behind.
Your gun is trained on the door, and you were backing up, feeling the breeze from the open window whip at the back of your legs. It’s close, and you crouch, starting to climb out of it when you see him.
Bobby Gnucci steps into the room, face still read from screaming at you, though now he is calmer, void of emotion. He almost smiles when he sees you, teeth yellowing from years of smoking those disgusting cigars he always smelt of.
“You look better.” His voice was sickly sweet, and the way his eyes roam your body feels nothing like the way it does when Frank does it. “Good.”
“I’m going to get my brother back.” He raises his eyebrows, keeping his composure. The way he stands, confidence oozing out of his jet black suit, you are reminded why his family is so feared. He isn’t tall, and he’s bigger than when you last saw him, but he looks like his father. All dark, oily hair and crumpled features.
“He isn’t yours to take. If your own father had been smarter, perhaps-“
“I’m going to get him back. Then I will come for you.” You step out of the window, gun still trained on him. You had to hope Frank had gotten to Karen by now, because it was your only chance.
“Think about who you are threatening.” He warns, taking a step towards you.
“It’s all I’ve thought about. For three fucking years. I will come for you, and I will burn everything you built to the ground.” Your word choice is purposeful. You want him to know. You want him to know that he will feel what you felt, what he did to you will come for him. Eventually.
You drop from view, throwing yourself off the fire escape and hit the ground running. The wind whistles past yo has you run the distance you drove yesterday to the main building of the Bulletin. If Frank hadn’t made it yet, it would be down to you. Faces pass in a blur and a few cars honk as you cross streets recklessly, and when the building begins to form in sight, you don’t see and blue and red flashing lights, which you take as a good sign.
Then, Frank crashes through the front window of the main lobby, his hands around the throat of a giant looking man.
You run to him, only stopping when you hear Karen inside, ushering someone out of the emergency exit. Frank flips the guy over and pounds his fist into his face, the sound of bone cracking letting you know he has it covered.
“Karen!” You shout and she looks up, relief washing over her face when she sees you. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine! We need to go— You. You need to go. The police are on their way. You and Frank—“
“Don’t worry about us. I need to get you out of here. Do you have somewhere you can—“ Another shatter of window sends glass flying into the air, and you cover Karen as best you can. She’s looking at something behind you, and when you focus, you can feel it. Someone, not something.
“Matt?” Karen shouted, one arm covering her forehead where a little blood seeped out from a cut. The man moved past you, taking her face in his hands.
“Are you okay?”
“Jesus! I’m fine! What are you doing here?!” She shouts at him, but you know that kind of shout. She’s not really mad, and you remember a conversation about her and someone called Murdock, and out together the pieces.
“I heard you! You need to-“ He pulls her closer, hand searching her face. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.” She whispers, the lobby now completely empty. The lack of sound also makes you look back, seeing Frank climbing off the mangled body underneath him. Karen looks at you, keeping her hands linked with the man’s. “You both need to get out of here.”
“Do you have somewhere you can go? Bobby, he knows your place.” She nods, eyes flicking to the man. Matt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get- this isn’t what I wanted. I’ll make sure you’re safe, I swear-“
“It’s not your fault. I would of done it anyways. Journalism has its risks. It’s not the first time something like this has happened anyways.” You smile at her, slightly confused as to how anything like this could of happened to her before, but Matt also smiles and it seems like there’s a lot you don’t know about her.
“Get out of here. Please.” You say and she looks past you, to Frank, who was digging through the pockets of the man he’d just killed.
“Thank you. Both of you.” She says, and then she does something that both makes you want to cry and laugh. She hugs you. Tightly, both arms wrapped around you. You don’t think a woman has hugged you since your mother.
When she pulls away you must look confused, or scared because she looks to the floor, smiling.
“Look after him. He needs you.” She says, and Matt moves his head towards you, nodding, before taking her hand and leading her out of the broken lobby.
You turn to Frank, who finally stands and staggers over to you, holding his side. You can hear sirens ringing in the distance, and you know you don’t have long before they reach you here.
“You okay?” He’s swaying a little, and his entire arm is gushing with blood. The hand holding his sight is bright red, too. “Fuck. Where’s the car?”
“S’ that way.” He slurs, and arm swinging over your shoulder.
“What happened?”
“Big guys. Had a lotta…” He sucks in a sharp breath when you step out of the lobby, turning him down the street. “You get out okay?”
“Had my lucky charm with me.” You tap the gun in the waistband of your pants, and even though he’s probably in a lot of pain, he smiles down at you.
“That’s my girl.” More of his weight drops into your shoulder, and your steps start to slow as you see the car approaching. Frank fumbles with the keys, and eventually drops them on the ground. You lean him up against the car as he groans, picking them up. “S’worried.”
“You know I can handle myself better than you can.” He’s lost more blood than he probably realises, and looks pale. You have no idea how many men were inside the lobby before you got there, only catching the end of it. You take the bags off his shoulder and shove them in the car, and when you turn back to him, he’s sliding off the hood and nearly hitting the pavement.
“Frank! Jesus— what the hell did you do to yourself?” He groans when you pull him back up, his arms nearly slipping from your grasp, wet with blood.
“S’okay, baby. Just gotta get…” His head practically rolls to the side, face screwing up in pain when he tries to swing his legs in. “Ah—fuck.”
“What do I do? Frank, I can’t fix this. I don’t know where to—“ There’s so much blood, when you close yourself into the drivers side of the car you can smell it— a mix of metallic sharpness and salt. There’s so much of it, and you half consider driving him to a hospital. Or one of the ambulances that have probably pulled up to the lobby. You couldn’t fix yourself, let alone him. You couldn’t even sew a cut on your leg— “Frank. Please keep your eyes open.”
“Mmm.” His head hangs forward now, and his eyes flick to the side, observing as you slam on the accelerator and drive forward. “Where you goin’?”
“We need help. You. You need help.” He’s slurring his words, and if he passes out you’ll have to— yeah, you’d drive him straight to the hospital. Screw everything, you’d figure it out, but he couldn’t die here. Not in a car, coming out of a fight you pushed him into, one he never would of found if it weren’t for you—
“Right. Turn right.” You hit it hard, your arm coming across Franks chest to keep him from slamming into the door. “Exit on fifth.”
“You need a— I can’t help you like this, Frank. I can take you to a hosptial—“ He’s shaking his head, grunting no before you finish the thought. “—Curtis? Where is he? He can help.” You take the exit, not sure where you’re going but blindly trusting Frank, even though he’s a second away from losing an arm.
“Not here. Pull into the g—“ He groans as you swerve onto the left side of the road. “—It’s okay. We just need a little time…”
“Frank.”
“Garage. One with the green door.” You see it a block away, and pull into it, immediately getting out of the car and helping Frank out.
He’s limping even with you supporting him, and now you can see the bright red marks on his shoes, lines on the pavement carved by the flow of blood from somewhere else under his clothes. He ushers you to a side door that opens to some storage unit sized garage, full of bags and old furniture.
You lay him down on an old couch, and when he huffs finally landing, you stand up and get a good look at him, and nearly puke.
You’ve seen blood before. This is tame— compared to what you’ve seen, what you’ve done before. Blood doesn’t make you sick, but his blood does. And there’s so much of it. His head is soaked, eyes both black, shirt wet— not damp, sopping wet with thick, red liquid. You haven’t even taken his shirt off and you know it’s bad. Bad and you can’t fix it, you couldn’t even fix yourself.
“Hey. Blue bag— trauma kit in there.” Franks hand weakly taps at your leg, and you realise you’d frozen above him. You move, hands shaking as you tear open the blue bag, gauzes and equipment you’ve never seen falling out in front of you. You look back to him, eyes wide. “It’s gonna be fine. Now grab…”
“I can’t do this. We need to take you to a hospital.” He’s sliding his shirt up and there’s so much of his blood that shouldn’t be here, not like this—
“Baby, you can do this. I need you to do this for me, okay? I know you’re scared, but I trust you.” His voice is cracking, but he’s looking at you with urgency and— trust, maybe. Maybe that’s it. The look you’ve been trying to pin, where his eyes go a little soft and he leans closer to you. Whatever it is, it’s enough, and you look back down to the equipment.
“Okay. Okay. Just… tell me. Which ones do I…” He pulls his shirt up and you lean on your knees, seeing what you know to be a gun wound. “Oh, fuck.”
“Tweezers.” He says, and twists to the side. The wound is right in the edge, but it looks like the bullet might still be in there. You can see it, just under the surface of his scarred skin. “You gotta get it out.”
“Okay.” Your voice was cracking but you did what he asked. Grabbing the tweezers, your slightly improved confidence has you moving into position. You remember Frank holding you when he did this to you, how he told you how good you were doing. How he called you sweetheart. You take a breath and put your hands on his side.
“You might need to p-“ He cries out when you shift the wound slightly, and you take your hands off him. “It’s okay. Just keep going. You’ll have to dig around. Get it out.”
“Shit. Shit. Okay, I’m sorry.” You look at Frank, who tries his best to look confident in you, but then groans as you dig the metal into his side and balls his fists into the couch. “I can feel it.”
“Mm.” He grunts out, jaw tight and breathing fast through his nose. If he keeps going like that, he’ll pass out and you need him awake. Frank kept you awake when he did it by talking. You can do that. You can do this.
“You’re doing good, Frank. I’ve almost got it.” He cries out again as you dig in, clamping the bullet around the metal. “You’re a really good teacher.”
“Good to—fuck. Good to know.” His eyes are squeezed shut, but momentary relief floods his face when the bullet leaves the wound. “Needle and the string in the green packet.”
“Alright. Just two or three, right?” He nods once, and you remember how many when he removed them from your skin. As you bring the supplies back to him, you bring gauze as well, gently cleaning the area as best you can. When he did it, he had water, and his skin is so caked with blood you can’t find the edge, so you do your best. He hisses when you get close, and you use the other hand to rub small, soothing circles on his other side. “Sorry.”
“S’okay. Just push is through. Line i—it up straight and pull it together. Fuck.”
“One down.” You follow his instructions, applying one shoddy stitch to his wound.
“That’s it-“ He pauses, eyes fluttering closed. You call his name, shake him a little but all that does is make the wound bleed more.
“Frank.” You move up, yelling in his ear. Nothing. His heart was beating, but your hand was wet with his blood. “Frank!”
He wasn’t awake. He’d passed out. You remembered when you were shot, and how hard he tried to keep you awake. It must be bad, that he’s passed out. A concussion— you knew he couldn’t sleep with a concussion. You needed to wake him up. You tried to think— when he did this for you, even though you wanted to sleep so badly, you heard his voice. Talking. He called you sweetheart.
Okay. You could do that— he always said how he could never get you to shut up. He’d talked you through the first one, you just had to do it over and over again. You had to talk him through it. You adjusted on your knees, replacing the soaked red gauze with a new one and exposed a little more of the wound.
“I can count on one hand how many times you’ve fallen asleep before I did.” You say to the small room. He can’t hear you, head lulled to the side, but you talk anyway. It was his voice that drew you to consciousness, a life ring in the weird fading fuzziness that blood loss tinged your body with. “It’s lazy, really. And do you remember, the first night we were in that really small hotel with the blinking lamp? And I told you that you should of gotten ice for your head? Bet you wished you listened to me.”
You were stabbing painfully at the wound, the slipperiness of his blood making it hard to get a hold on it. You tried to be gentle, but you needed to be safe more. Another few uneven ties eventually pulled his skin together, and you immediately covered the wound, wrapping it in gauze and sticking bandages over it. You grabbed more of the supplies out of the bag, ripping open packages that looked like what you had just used.
“If this is some kind of fucked up lesson like when you made me stay up for five hours with a gun on the door, I’m going to kick your ass.” You tried to tell yourself you were talking to him, but it was more a distraction for you, giving yourself something to focus on other than the gaping wound across his chest that you now had to try and pull back together. “I think I miss that time, though. I didn’t know how good I had it. New York feels so... full. I’ve lived in big cities my whole life, you know. Those shitty motels were always so empty. I liked the open space.”
A part of him flinched under you. Maybe it was just because you were hurting him, or a reflex, but either way it meant he wasn’t dead, and that was encouragement enough. Your hands continued to rectify the cut, now almost completely closed. Looking down his body, there was a lot of superficial wounds that you wouldn't be able to do much with, but there was a gash in his leg that was dripping blood onto the floor, and you grabbed a shirt from one of the bags in the room and tied it over until you could get to it.
“I just liked being outside, I think. Like that place in the woods, where you pulled all those guns out of the floor. If it wasn’t so small, I would have never left. I could breathe out there— I never felt like I could get a real breath in underground. You know, when they kept me down there.” Maybe it was the adrenaline rushing through you, or the fact that this was the chance to talk to someone without having to worry how they would react. Frank wouldn’t even remember it.
“My dad used to have a basement at our house. He did all his research down there, when he wasn’t stuck at the lab. Even there, I hated it. It was so cramped— he could never get enough of it, though. I used to stand at the top of the steps that led down there, playing a song on my phone or something, and he’d sing it with me. Then he’d walk up the steps and scoop me up, carry me out of there.” Everything feels like it’s hot— Frank’s skin under your hands. It felt like infection. You grabbed some of the saline and squeezed it over the wounds, then shuffled down and did the same to the one on his leg before starting to stitch again.
“That’s where he was. When they set the house on fire. My mom could never sleep without him, so she was waiting for him, making a few bottles for my brother in the kitchen.” A slow, shuddering exhale, and a few quick blinks of your eye allows you to see straight again. “I always think about what he was doing. If he was happy— if he struggled. Sometimes he fell asleep down there and mom had to go and drag him to bed. I like to think he was asleep when it happened.”
“My mum was screaming. For him, for me to get out. For my brother. I don’t even remember how I got the door unlocked. I think I dislocated my shoulder breaking it down. Eventually I knew mom was... she stopped screaming. I just kept bashing the door down. I was thinking ‘if I can just get in here, just get him and then I can go and help her’. He was a baby. I had to—“ You saw lines forming in the dry blood on Frank’s chest, and you knew you were crying. You straightened up, not wanting to get anything else on him. “I still remember Bobby. His face, hovering behind his fathers. Coming to collect their prize. My brother had ash on his face, he was sneezing every three seconds and I couldn’t stop him crying.”
Your words were choked, and every sentence came out in a hiccuped string of sobs you knew were hardly coherent. Somewhere in between, you ad sewn him up. You had managed it — somehow, you had tied him together, at least enough so the blood wasn’t dripping like a faucet anymore. There was more to do, so much blood all over him. His head was hanging off the couch, and there was a piece of metal you hadn’t seen sticking out of his right arm.
You grabbed the bottles of water you saw in the corner, along with the saline and remaining gauze. You were running out considering how much you had used on the gun shot wound, but you’d manage. You wiped your tears on the back of your arm and got to work, and you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from talking to him.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
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#frank castle#marvel tv#frank castle x reader#the punisher#frank castle x y/n#frank castle x you#marvel#the punisher x reader#the punisher x y/n#the punisher x you
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Thoughts on size shifter!klavier and huamn apollo?
YES I HAVE THOUGHTS gonna just continue from this post bc I already set smth up last time and also just really enjoy Klavier angst lol. also ty for sending this ive been having some Klapollo thoughts since last night djfjfjfjfjhfjhffj
under cut for Turnabout Succession spoilers again!! sorry for getting long btw lmao this idea has been bouncing around in my head since the other sizeshifter!gavins ask lol
Apollo doesnt know for sure, but he has an idea about what the Gavin brothers really are. He’s had a feeling for a while, with the way Kristoph would seem slightly taller sometimes when pressing especially difficult witnesses, or how Klavier always seems to be taller than he already was every time Apollo showed up, though not in the intimidating way like his brother. Others don’t seem to notice, at least consciously, but Apollo does.
It’s not his right to say anything, though. Apollo knows the general public opinion on sizeshifters and their potential danger. But Kristoph is now locked up, and Klavier isn’t really the dangerous kind of person (really more the annoying type if anything) so he sees no reason to speak up about it. Sizeshifters don’t exactly share that about themselves, anyway.
Throughout the Vera Misham trial, he can see Klavier so clearly upset. And if he focuses, it looks like Klavier’s height keeps changing. It was already hard for Apollo to learn that his boss was a murderer, and finding out how horrible he truly is isn’t any easier. How much harder is it for Klavier, to learn all this about his older brother?
He watches as Klavier rushes out of the courtroom the moment the judge ends the trial. He takes a few moments to decide before going out to make sure Klavier is okay. It takes him a bit, but he eventually does find Klavier, smiling like he usually did.
But something is off. His bracelet reacts as Klavier claims to be fine, and as he focuses, he notices Klavier’s height: he’s shorter than normal. He can see Klavier tense up as he says that. He watches as Klavier forces out a laugh, looking away. “You must’ve finally hit your growth spurt, Herr Forehead” he says, but his eyes don’t match his smile.
Before Apollo can press on, Klavier excuses himself and leaves the courthouse entirely.
Apollo barely hears from Klavier in the following weeks and hasn't even seen him since. The most he's gotten was a text saying that he's glad Vera's condition improved significantly and the text responses saying that he's fine and not to worry about him whenever asked. Apollo only finds himself worrying more, despite how annoying Klavier is, but the prosecutor isn't acting like himself. Even Ema seems to notice and care, not that she actually said anything.
The last straw is when Trucy tells Apollo that the Gavinners disbanded. Or more accurately, Klavier disbanded the Gavinners. The articles don't seem to have a solid reason as to why it happened, and any responses from Klavier are vague. Apollo officially decides that he's going to see Klavier in person.
It doesn't take him long to learn Klavier's address, and he finds himself standing outside the apartment door. After a few knocks, Klavier opens the door and greets him. Apollo notes that he's his usual height right now. He asks if they can talk, and after several moments of hesitation, Klavier lets him inside.
Apollo tries asking again if Klavier is okay, and once again, he sees him lying. Apollo's bracelet is reacting as Klavier turns away and becomes a little shorter.
"Stop lying. I know you're not okay. You haven't been okay."
"If you insist, Herr Forehead, where's your proof?"
Apollo takes a deep breath, feeling a little bad for what he's about to say, but he says it. He tells Klavier what he knows: that whenever he's around, Klavier is usually taller than normal, and that during the Vera Misham trial, he saw his height changing constantly, his emotions seeming all over the place.
All of a sudden, he's seeing Klavier at almost eye level, his eyes wide as his breathing seems to quicken. "How long have you known?" he says, his voice barely a whisper.
But that's not what Apollo is here to talk to him about. He ignores the question and tells Klavier to stop hiding, to stop pretending he's okay when he's not.
Several moments later, Klavier seems to break down. It's not loud and violent like his brother's. Instead, it's quiet as he curls into himself, like he's trying not to take up so much space, and he shrinks down to a few inches tall at Apollo's feet. As gently as he can, he carefully lifts the now-tiny prosecutor in his hands, holding him against his chest. He feels Klavier shaking as he cries, his tiny fists gripping the cloth of his vest. He wordlessly strokes his back with his thumb as Klavier spills his thoughts, all the thoughts he's able to voice regarding the complicated emotions he feels towards his brother.
As his shaking and whimpering dies down, Apollo can sense the one thing scaring Klavier the most at the moment. His voice soft, he promises Klavier that no one will know, that his sizeshifting will remain between the two of them. He feels the tiny prosecutor immediately relax in his hands, and they stay like that in silence for several minutes longer, just the two of them in each other's comfort.
#alex answers#anonymous#aa#sizeshifter#g/t#giant/tiny#ALSO TY TO MY SIBLING FOR THE GROWTH SPURT LINE AFTER I SENT THEM THE OTHER POST it makes me laugh amidst this angst djdjjdjdjdjd
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hiii
Idrk what's the problem with these actresses fr. it all started with Ana and her actress istg I can't even see her face without feeling rage dmgsktkgs
we actually had a huge fight with Carla's actress too, now that I remember lol.
the funny thing with the Buck and Lucy mess is that you/we can actually see how that was supposed to end.... with them sitting besides each other at the HenRen wedding and everything.
after the finale, some actors posted pics on insta welcoming her (Lucy/Arielle) to the ~~family~~ so we assumed she was there to stay but! that also didn't happen.
also, the BuckTaylor relationship wasn't supposed to last that long lol (even though their 3 fans who thought they were endgame). back after Brawl in cell block there was a ~~fake~~ synopsis that talked about Eddie and Taylor butting heads over something. so there were theories about Taylor making a coverage on the whole thing outing Mitchell as the donor. we thought /that/ was supposed to start the problems between Buck and Taylor, and their eventual break up, but the synopsis was debunked (?) and so we were ~~blessed~~ with more of them together.
a whole thing happened with ghost stories too, we had a synopsis and a promo, it was supposed to be a Halloween ep and then! they changed everything. we were supposed to see the case of a girl who lived alone who thought there were ghost in her house but in reality it was a dude living in her attic or something, and instead we had a chapter full of Taylor Kelly... is the worst rated ep in IMDb to this day...
ALSO, someone was supposed to die in the last ep lmao. the articles talked about a big loss and I'm not gonna lie we hoped that big loss was Lucy 🤭😶
omg hiii
wait there was something wrong w ana’s actress AND CARLA’S??? i’m literally going insane what is actually wrong with them 😭
oh fr, you can def see how badly the scene cuts made it look at the wedding like? and then she just wasn’t there, well technically i just saw her but like i’m guessing i won’t see her much more? this whole thing is so messy especially after them welcoming her HSHDJF
wait so you’re telling me that we suffered through BuckTaylor when we didn’t have to 🥲 icl i do wish the fake synopsis was real also not just bc i love the idea of eddie and taylor butting heads bc in my head they def did a lot. but oh yeah! so blessed! so grateful we had to suffer through them for so much longer—
yeah icl i thought an episode titled ghost stories was going to be a halloween episode? it made so much sense? and honestly that synopsis sounds sooooo much better, kinda spooky, kinda fun and tbh? did we really need to know that about taylor like sorry your dad killed your mum or something but i don’t really care? HAJSKF not it still being the worst rated episode 😭😭
someone was supposed to die? STOP? NO WAY— you’re so real for hoping the big loss was lucy btw bc i am 100% certain i would’ve hoped the same
i’m literally living for this gossip btw!! thank you so much, you’re making my nights w this i love learning everything <33
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Peacemaker S1 Ep5 Monkey Dory (last episode for the night 🙏) @tinalbion
-giggles :3
-ugh him drinking the eggs
-worst trope ever
-eagley :((( he’s so worried abt chris
-he looks so fucking pathetic uhm…. guys…. 😼 SORRY
-NOOOOOOO eagley brought him a squirrel to eat to feel better :(
-noooo this episode is gonna be so sad i can feel it
-ADRIANANNNN
-sorry
-“they go in through the butt??” JFJEIDNDJD
-superman w the poop fetish 😭😭
-now that we know murn is a butterfly im confused as to why the rest of them don’t know
-but i get it
-NO RHE EXPLOSION IN THE POWERPONTISIDJSIJD economous is so me
-HIM NAMING ALL THE PEOPLEKDJWINDJSBX
-“the fucking cunts from riverdale”
-ADRIAN ANSWERING THR RHETORICAL QUESTIDONCKSNX
-“fargos on tonight” ofc he watches fargo
-he’s so baby girl!!!
-“nice penmanship asshole and fargos not on till tomorrow night you fucking nerd” followed by adrian’s laughter JFJSJDJDJ
-larry is sexy
-ugh. i hate his dad
-leota defending economous <3
-“i didn’t care bc i don’t have emotions like other people do” when he clearly has shown multiple emotions like ok
-“i got bullied too” “how” “by the other kids calling me a bully all the time, saying i was abusive” SHIT UPPPPPP
-they’re finger printing what’s his face
-can they just lie and say he did it anyways
-also fuck larry is. sorry i just love a good silver fox dad bod man
-hehe i love that he loves glam rocks
-they’re bondinggggg :3
-me starting a show: i jsut want everyone to be friends :D
-has he been a butterfly this whole time? like even when he was back doing whatever?
-“evan you fucking pussy!” JFNSODNISHD
-“i finger bang you, i’m not using my pinky” IFNWOFNISD good point king!
-“i forgot women had fingers” IFKOWNCSIND
-stop this shows humor is nailing it for me tbh
-“UGH FUCK i’m never ever gonna kill someone with a chainsaw it’s so not fair” adrian u can kill me w the chainsaw. ok???
-chris and leota r my fave friendship actuslly like idk why but they bounce off of each other really rlly well
-JFNWONFJD
-LEOTA SHOOTING EACH PERSON AGTER CHRIS KILLS RHEM SHES JUST LIKE ME
-ok i’m eating breakfast so who knows how much i’ll type as i watch
-show me some fighting 🗣️🗣️
-why didn’t they just blow this place up
-YESSS BUTTERFLY FIGHTING LETS GO
-who the hell is charlie
-is that the like major guy that’s giving them the stuff
-OH EHAT THE FUCK
-“idk i invented it this morning” he’s smart
-EAT PEACE MOTHER FUCKERS
-poor economous just having to watch :(
-THE GORILLA
-HDJSJCKSKJDS
-IM LAUDHISICIWBDIS
-all of them fucking this gorilla up together <3 teamwork babey
-YESSS
-ENONOMOUS CAME IN W THE CHAINSAW LETS GOOO
-ALL OF THRN HAVING FUN TOGETHER IN THE CARTRRT
-🥹 they just mean a lot to me guys
-all of them dancing 🥹🥹
-WAHHHH HARCOURT TAKING A PIC OF THEN :,)
-HEHEHHEHEEH
-the guy who agreed to help murn is making sure chris’ dad stays in jail 🙏🙏
- ew not him trying to gaslight my queen 🙄🙄
-go get larry and get his ass
-“so we can assume butterflies can use any life form as a host” “chihuahua? :D” “probably wouldn’t fit” “would be cool tho!! :3” adrian chase. i have feelings for you. major ones.
-everyone being mean to adrian he’s just silly guys!!!
-he’s not a thimble
-“we can trust him” “what’s his name” “judy” “JUDGE JUDY???”
1
-“we can trust him!” “so you’ve said” “and plus he’s my uncle” “😳” Hhehehehehe
-WAHHHHH
-HARVOURT MAdE A GC FOR THEM
-NAMED 11TH STREET KIDS
-IM SOBBINGGGGGG
-there’s 11 minutes left in sad
-adrian using the merman emoji hehehe
-“he says it means happy sad and everything in between” WAHHHHH
-:,) he wants to hang out w JFNWKNFKWNFJD
-sorry he wants to hang w leota and she goes “are you trying to fuck me but claiming ur dicks a lesbian or something” JDNSKNFJS
-he framed his first newspaper article about himself.
-guys i’m crying now.
-ok had to pause to send a video crying abt this to tati i don’t wanna play it i don’t want them to be sad
-her almost throwinf the drink up HFJSIJDJRJRJ
-they’re having a beer together :3
-LEOTA HELPING HIM W HARCOURTJSIFNIE
-oh i’m giggling
-“don’t talk about her tits or her pussy” “yeah but…what abt when we’re fucking” STOP ITTTT
-john cena plays christopher smith so we’ll it pisses me off
-“you really aren’t a bad guy. you just use being s fuck as a way to push people away, but if you would just take second and just drop that and be Chris Smith, i think people actuslly might like you” WAHHHHHH
-THEYRE BESTIESSSSSS
-“i just never had this before” “what?” “this, you, you know, giving me advice and having my back” SHES HIS FIRST FRIEND GUYS WAHHH
-I JUST WANT EVERYONE TO BE HAPPY IM SO SCARED
-him crying :(
-leota still planting his diary :(
-NOOOOOOO
-her voicemail to her wife :(
-OH NO
-oh no
-FUCK. she’s using chris’ helmet and she’s gonna see that he’s a fucking butterfly FUCKKKKK
-LEOTA IM SO SCARED FKR HER
-NO
-LEOTA GET THE FUCK OUT GHERE
-OH MO OH NO OH NO
- THATS HOW THE EPISODE ENDS
-WHAT THE GUVK
-i was gonna stop after this episode but i have to start the next one i jsut have to
-end credits
-THE NAME DROPPSSSS STJDISJDNKWNFKS
-silly end credits
OK THOUGHTS ON THID EPISODE: holy fuck! just!!!! OMGGGGG i love leota and i love her bonding w chris (even tho she still put his journal there :/) but FUCK I KNOW SHE DOESNT DIE BC ID BE PISSED BUT NOW I HAVE TO WATCH EP6 TOO
its 6 am so i’m a little tired but my god ALSO harcourt has officially grown on me see i just needed her to get away from that ‘strong girl doesn’t like girl stuff or other people’ thing, strong women r allowed to have friendships and close bonds and stuff !!! and now i lowkey ship her and chris -_- annoying i know hehe
anyways episode 6 time
#s1 ep5 monkey dory#peacemaker 2022#peacemaker#christopher smith#adrian chase#leota adebayo#b reacts live
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The Night Shift (Chapter II)
Chapter 1.
Grief is a funny thing, quiet as the night and loud as a bomb all at once.
Pairing: Ignis Scientia x Reader
Word Count: 1.9k
Rating: T
Content: Heavy angst, major character death, established relationship, grieving, canon-compliant
Author's Note: I promise I'm going to write happy Iggy stuff soon I promise. I just needed to round out this story bc it felt a little incomplete to me. Anyways next up is some happy fluffy Ignis that y'all are gonna eat up ;)
When Ignis finds out about the attack on Insomnia, everything stops.
For a moment he just stares at the newspaper on the stand, shock coursing through his veins. On the cover is a picture of Insomnia in flames. Magitek troopers dot the streets as smoke billows from his home– their home.
His mind flashes to his uncle and his parents, who are undoubtedly back in the city. The urge to call them makes his fingers instinctively twitch towards his phone. He resists it, his first duty is to relay this news to the prince.
Then, a revelation that knocks his world off its axis.
You.
The Citadel would no doubt be a target in the siege. Ignis is no fool, he knows what happens to servants loyal to their masters during an occupation, especially when those masters are part of the regime that’s being overthrown.
A pit of despair grows in his stomach, the dark ball growing and growing until it feels like it may consume him whole. He fights to keep his composure, his hands flexing at his sides as he tries to calm himself. His duty to the Prince is first before everything. He cannot fail now, not with the weight of Insomnia on their backs.
His hand shakes as he grabs a paper off the stand, wordlessly handing over 5 gil to the clerk as he makes his way back to the room they had booked for the night. As he walks he scans over the article, his stomach sinking as he reads. When he reaches the room he tries to school his expression into one of neutrality before he opens the door, ultimately failing when he catches the gaze of his prince. After so many years Noct has gained an uncanny ability to read his retainer’s mood.
“What’s that look for?” He asks, the innocence in his eyes making Ignis dread his news all the more. He hands the newspaper to Gladiolus silently, not able to meet the gaze of his Prince.
“It’s in all the papers.” He replies, fighting to keep his voice steady as his emotions rush back anew.
“What is?” the Prince asks, his voice slightly agitated.
“‘Insomnia… falls.’” Prompto reads the headline aloud. Ignis tightens his jaw. He cannot lose his composure now. His duty is to care for the Prince, who is going to need him more than ever. He silently thanks the Astrals that everyone’s eyes are on the paper as he feels a lump grow in his throat. Not now, later. He promises himself.
“Is this your idea of a joke?” Noct barks, reeling Ignis back to reality. He bristles slightly at his accusatory tone.
“I need you to calm down so I can explain,” Ignis says, finding familiarity in the disciplinary nature of his own tone. This is familiar, this is what he has done for the past 16 years. He can do discipline, he can do parental, he can do this.
“I’m as calm as I’m gonna get,” Noct shoots back, advancing on Ignis as if to intimidate him.
“There was an attack,” Ignis begins slowly, choosing his words wisely. “The Imperial army has taken the Crown City.” Just as Noct begins to open his mouth again, Gladiolus begins reading from the paper.
“‘As treaty room tempers flared, blasts lit the night sky. When the smoke about the Citadel had cleared, the King was found… dead,’”
“No- wait- hold on-” Noct stutters. Denial clouds his tone as Ignis steels himself for the fit to come.
“We had no way of knowing,” He replies, knowing it is of little consolation to the Prince. After all, it is of little consolation to himself.
“What? Knowing what?” Noct retorts, advancing on his advisor once again.
“That the signing was last night– that Insomnia,” Noctis cuts him off.
“But the wedding- Altissia-” He says, his voice rising.
“I know,” Ignis says, his own voice rising as he turns to face Noctis, his patience running thin. “That was the plan, yet the reports of the invasion are all the same. How could every headline in the kingdom be wrong?”
“Lies,” Noct hisses back.
“If only,” Prompto mutters, and for once Ignis is grateful to have the blond tagging along. Better Noct hear it from a friend than him.
“What else do we know?” Gladio asks, ever the tactician. Ignis shakes his head. There is nothing to know, the Empire are no fools, they’ve undoubtedly cut all communication lines, save their own, from the capital. “Well, then we can’t be sure until we see it with our own eyes,”
“And that means we go back to Insomnia,” Prompto adds. Ignis bristles at the suggestion. Yes, Prompto is hotheaded, but he’d never imagine he’d go this far. And Gladio? He should know better.
“It is not safe for us there,” Ignis retorts, stating the obvious,
“Yeah, well it isn’t safe for us here,” Prompto shoots back. Ignis hates that he’s right.
“Turn back?” Gladiolus asks Noctis, all eyes in the room landing on the Prince, who sits in quiet shock.
After a long pause, Noct breaks his silence.
“Yeah.”
Gladio and Prompto nod their assent, and Ignis joins them despite his trepidation. This is Noctis’s journey now, not his.
“I’m gonna see if I can get ahold of Iris,” The Shield says after a moment, making his way towards the door. Before he exits, he puts a hand on Ignis’s shoulder, drawing him close. “You should try and call her, just in case.”
Ignis nods silently, following Gladiolus outside as Prompto sits down next to Noctis. Ignis has never been more grateful for the blond than he is in this moment. A friend can comfort the Prince better than he and Gladiolus can.
The two servants walk in silence, parting ways when they reach the parking lot. Gladio walks towards the rocky crags of the hills while Ignis makes his way to the shoreline, his shoes sinking into the sand.
When he pulls out his phone, he doesn’t immediately dial. His heart sinks as he realizes he’s faced with a choice: call and face the painful truth or live in anxious ignorance.
The emotions from before well up in him. He’s angry, angry at the Empire, angry at the world. But most of all? He’s angry at himself.
He hates that he wasn’t there for you when you needed him the most. He hates that he’s bound to his post when all he wants to do is jump into the Regalia and tear the heart out of the Imperial occupation himself.
For a brief moment his anger boils over and he curses his family for swearing a life of service. He curses his post, curses that his loyalty to the Prince won over his loyalty to the woman he loves. He stares at the black screen of his phone and briefly debates throwing it into the sea. He imagines himself taking the Regalia and never looking back. He’d shack up somewhere quiet like Maidenwater and live in blissful ignorance, no kings, no princes, no crystals or rings. But just as quick as the thought comes he banishes it.
His loyalty is here, his life is here. Whether he had known it or not, the moment he had stepped out of Insomnia he had made his choice. There was no backing out now, he’d see it through to the end.
With his resolve steeled, he unlocks his phone. His thumb hovers over your name, a picture of you grinning greeting him.
His mind flashes back to when he’d taken the photo. You two had a rare day when your schedules aligned and you’d gone to the Insomnia market together. There had been a stall selling rare berries and fruits imported from Altissa and across Eos. You had spent your own money on a small basket of them for yourself and Ignis. He had never seen someone take such joy in such a small thing, your lips stained red from the fruits as you gushed about the tastes. Ignis hadn’t been able to resist taking a photo of you as you smiled at him. In that moment there were no gods or kings, just you and him.
His grip on his phone tightens as remorse floods him. All he can think about are all the nights he came home to an empty house, the notes in his ingredient baskets that went unanswered. He remembers all the mornings he woke up after you had gone to sleep, how it had pained him to leave you alone in your shared quarters.
He remembers the rare mornings you spent together before the sun rose. Dozens of images flash in front of his eyes: you in an apron making pancakes, the way you smiled when you came home and saw he was awake, how you’d carefully split the newspaper in half so you both could read as you ate.
Bitter tears rise in his eyes as he remembers he’ll never have any of it again.
Realistically, he knows there’s nothing he could have done. Had they still been in Insomnia, they would have undoubtedly been killed just as the King had. There was no reason to take you on their journey either. While you were proficient at all things in the way of housekeeping you had no combat skill and no strategic abilities. Not to mention that depriving the Citadel of its royal housekeeper would be a massive blow to the staff on duty.
However logical these thoughts may be, they don’t stop the flow of emotions threatening to drown Ignis under their waves. Anger, grief, regret, guilt, hurt, and a choking sadness that he fears will strike him down where he stands.
He moves to turn his phone off and return it to his pocket, but his shaking fingers accidentally press the call button instead. He holds his breath as he sees the call begin, reluctantly raising the phone to his ear.
He feels an ember of hope stir in his chest as the line rings, his brain racing to create a scenario where you survived. Maybe you had been at the market when the Imperials struck and been saved the worst of the combat, or the Imperials had simply taken you prisoner to maintain the Citadel. Maybe you had even made it out of the city and were sitting somewhere in a refugee camp waiting for his call.
However, as the line trills on, he feels that ember of hope slowly flicker and dim.
It’s when your voicemail message plays that he loses his composure.
Your sweet voice echoes through his speakers as he feels tears rise in his eyes again. He curses everything as he drops his phone into the sand. He curses the Imperial army, the Six, himself, his duty, anything he can think of. He curses the cruel world that would take his love away from him so soon, glaring at the heavens through his tears.
‘If you are listening, if you are there, I will never forgive you,’ He thinks. ‘I will guide Noctis to you, I will fulfill my position, but know that you will never have my gratitude again.’
He takes a few steadying breaths, slowly leaning down to pick his phone up out of the sand and mentally steeling himself for what is to come.
When he turns around and meets Gladiolus’s gaze, he shakes his head in solemn acknowledgment.
His heart, now beating for yours, cracks in his chest.
#ignis x reader#ignis scientia x reader#ignis#ignis scientia#ffxv x reader#final fantasy xv#final fantasy 15#ffxv#ffxv fanfic
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I’d Drop it All for You
Pictures of you and Pete are spread all over the internet, causing a whirlwind of hate to enter your social media.
Request: “Pete content please! anything !!! smut fluff whatever”
Pete x Reader
Warnings: Cursing, depictions of depression and anxiety
A/N: *Insert normal spiel about respecting A.G. and only using her for plot purposes. No harm intended.* Also I wrote most of this after a meeting with my therapist so... enjoy :) (He’s so cute in this gif I wanna kiss his face)
Word Count: 1820
You weren’t one of those people who loved being the center of attention. You knew that being in the spotlight also meant constantly living under a microscope, and you decided a long time ago that that was not for you.
But you were lucky enough to work as an assistant art director at just 24. You were hoping that The King of Staten Island, your newest project, would help get your name out into the professional world. But that wasn’t the only thing to come out of the film.
It happened unexpectedly, you showed up on set the first day, ready to do whatever the art director required of you. You couldn’t help but be slightly distracted by the lead actor and writer, Pete Davidson. He was so kind and funny, and he wasn’t uptight like everyone else.
After a few hours of filming, he came up to you, introducing himself. He said he “wanted to get to know everyone working on the project,” but you didn’t see him introducing himself to anyone else. You two started talking during breaks. Then he started sitting with you at lunch. Then he was asking for your number.
In a matter of weeks he was asking you out to dinner, taking you to a cozy restaurant that you absolutely adored. He walked you home, his hand grazing yours until you intertwined your fingers.
It was all very romantic, so when Pete asked if he could take you on another, you obviously said yes. Flash forward two weeks and he finally got the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, even though you were both exclusively seeing each other already.
After filming ended 2 months later, you were still working on the film in post, which meant you had an excuse to stay in Staten Island with Pete. After about 2 weeks in post, you spent more nights in his bed than your hotel’s.
Nearly 6 months later and you were happier than ever. You were splitting your time between your small apartment in the Bronx and Pete’s basement apartment. Pete introduced you to most of his friends, and you introduced him to yours.
But other than your small circles of friends, you kept your relationship fairly quiet. Pete doesn’t have social media and yours is strictly professional, so there are no pictures of you two together. You weren’t hiding each other, you loved each other, you just had no reason to tell tabloids. And you were perfectly happy with that.
Which made it so much worse when various news sites had pictures of you two holding hands. Had they been anyone else you would’ve thought they were cute, walking along the South Beach oceanside at night.
Pete had been in the SNL studio all day when the pictures were released, while you were in his apartment, trying your best to focus on the photoset in front of you. The production team wanted the film to scream “teen romance,” which basically entails subtle pink undertones and a higher saturation. But you couldn’t quite get the coloring right, probably because you weren’t actually focusing on the colors.
You sighed, looking at the time and realizing that Pete won’t be back until sometime after 2am, which was a whole 5 hours away. You let out a huff, pushing away from the desk and making your way to Pete’s closet and searching for one of his hoodies. They always smelled like him (and weed), so it was a comfort to you.
You crashed onto the bed, finding the phone that you had tossed there a few hours earlier. Turning it on you were surprised by the number of notifications you were getting. You knew the photos had surfaced but you weren’t expecting this.
Your Instagram was blowing up with new follows, likes, and comments. It was kind of exciting at first until you started reading some of the comments.
I mean, we knew he would downgrade from Ari, but this is like… really far down.
This girl really thinks she’s special just bc Pete’s dating her. Hun he could do so much better
Who is she?!? Literally no one.
Someone needs to show her how to dress
That hairstyle is not it honey
Pete Davidson is dating YOU??? He could do sooo much better
Ari was prettier sorry not sorry
The entire comment section on your last post, a picture of you on the set of your latest film, was pretty much the same. There were some nice comments, but a lot of mean ones.
And you couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop looking at them. It felt so cliché, but it was like all of your deepest insecurities about being with Pete were thrown out on the table.
You knew that Pete had a fairly large following, and that a lot of people had really strong feelings about him. You had expected that if and when your relationship went public you would have a lot of people watching you, scrutinizing you. But you didn’t care because Pete was worth it.
Now you weren’t so sure. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle people talking bad about you, because you definitely could, even if it hurt. You just weren’t expecting the amount of people comparing you to Ariana or saying that Pete could do so much better.
And it only bothered you so much because you felt it too. Your inner demons loved to remind you that Pete had dated Ariana fucking Grande and now he’s dating you. Anyone could see an obvious downgrade.
You turned your phone off and threw it on the opposite side of the bed, trying to think positive thoughts. “I am in control of my own thoughts and emotions. I am catching my negative thoughts and fixing them.” You murmured your therapist’s mantra to yourself, but it was too late. The thoughts had already taken hold of your mind.
Your eyes started to water as you could feel the heavy feeling in your chest set in. You pulled the hood over your head, pulling the straps to hide as much of your face as possible, and pulling your knees to your chest. You laid like that for a while, tears falling as doubts ran through your head. Once you had effectively exhausted your thoughts, you went numb. Your tears had stopped, but you couldn’t move. This wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it sure wasn’t pleasurable.
There was a sort of buzzing throughout your body, almost like the feeling when your foot falls asleep, but everywhere. It seemed to block out your sound, as you didn’t hear the basement door open. You only knew that Pete was home when he sat beside you on the bed, pulling the hood off your face.
“There’s my beautiful girl.” He smiled at you. You tried your best to fake one back, but you honestly couldn’t find the energy. Pete pulled you so you were sitting up, back pressed against his front. His arms wrapped around your middle as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “What’s goin on?” He murmured against your skin.
“Did you see them?” You asked, your voice quiet and hoarse.
Pete let out a sigh, “Yeah, I saw them.” He paused, his hold on you getting tighter, like he was making sure you couldn’t leave. “I’m sorry baby. I know you didn’t want it to be a whole big thing.”
You turned your head to face him, “It’s not that. I really don’t mind that people know. We weren’t trying to hide anything.”
He smiled, “Yeah, I know I just- it was nice having this to ourselves.”
He wanted to hide you. He’s embarrassed of you.
Your inner dialogue never seemed to shut up.
You turned away from Pete, trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah.” You whispered.
“What’s wrong, you’re still upset.” He rocked you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. You shrugged in response, not trusting yourself to talk. “You can talk to me, y’know.”
You nodded, leaning further into Pete’s chest. “People found my Instagram.” You murmured, looking down and tracing the arrow tattoo on his hand.
“Whaddya mean? I thought it was public?” He furrowed his eyebrows.
You sighed, wishing you hadn’t said anything. “Yeah, it is. But after all the articles people started following me and shit.”
“I would ask how that’s a problem but I deleted my Instagram so I can’t really talk.” You could tell he was trying to make you feel better, but you couldn’t seem to get out of your haze.
You shook your head, deciding to drop the matter. “It’s not, I’m just being overdramatic.” You sighed, putting on a fake smile and facing him fully. “Wanna watch a movie?” You asked, trying to change the topic.
He gave you the I-know-you’re-bullshitting-me look, which made you look down. “Something’s bothering you, Y/N. And you’re trying to pretend it doesn’t because you think your feelings aren’t valid, but they are.” He tilted his head, trying to meet your eyes that were still trained on the bedsheets below you.
“Where’d you learn that one?” You chuckled half-heartedly.
“Rehab part 2” he smiled, hand coming to your jaw to tilt your head up. “C’mon, talk to me. I wanna help.”
You huffed, moving towards the opposite side of the bed where your phone laid. You opened it, finding your Instagram, and showing him the comments. His eyebrows furrowed as he scrolled through the comments. When he decided he’d had enough he put your phone down, grabbing your waist and lifting you onto his lap so you were essentially straddling him.
He leaned his forehead against your own, your noses touching. “That’s all bullshit, you know that, right?”
You looked down, biting your lip. “Y/N you’re the most amazing, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, okay? I’m in love with you, not anyone else.” Pete’s eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going on in your head.
“I know.” You sighed, “It’s just hard to be with you and not compare myself to her. And then all these people started to do it too, and they kept saying that you could do so much better and you can. So, I dunno I guess I just kind of spiraled.”
Pete captured your lips in a long, passionate kiss. “Y/N. There is literally no better than you. I can’t do better because you are the best woman I have ever loved. “
You pulled Pete in for another kiss. “Thank you, Pete. I love you.”
“I love you too. If this happens again, I want you to call me. I don’t care what I’m doing, I’d drop it all for you.” You smiled, sitting in the arms of the guy you loved. The thoughts didn’t just magically go away, but for a brief moment in time, you were happy.
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sleepovers with peter (and ned)
summary: in which you have a sleepover with your dork of a best friend and your boyfriend peter.
content warning: peter parker x fem!reader, fluff, set after spider-man homecoming (friends to lovers, mutual pining)
note: this is from my old tumblr account adoringparker i decided to post it again but change some things up :)
REQUESTS ARE OPEN! (let me know if you want to see more content like this <3)
masterlist
the entire thing being ned and yours idea because you've all been having so many exams recently and barely hung out after school due to revising and peter’s schedule.
peter being hesitant because he was worried that something bad could happen in new york and spider-man wouldn't be there to stop it
you reassuring him that the world can survive without spider-man for one day
oh man you were wrong
you three started the sleepover right after the school bells rang !!!
going to delmars to get sandwiches before you all went to peters place (forgetting the fact that there's only two beds in his room)
you and ned making fun of peter because has to state that the sandwich has to have pickles and be squashed real flat
“peter parker picked a pack of pickled peppers”
"why are you guys ATTACKING me.”
also getting slushies, peter trying to be creative and get red and blue to match the spider-man colours, ned getting red and you mixing cola and cherry to ‘make a cherry cola slushie’
“that is so disgusting y/n”
“shut up pickle breath”
going back to peters apartment and greeting may with a hug (she loves you <3)
“how's my favourite sweetheart doing?”
peter immediately cutting in like the dork he is
“i'm doing pretty good may!! how are you doing?”
teasing peter back
“she likes me more than you pete i’m her favourite”
eating ur sandwiches at the table while talking about what happened in school
“man today’s debate was so easy!”
you and ned throwing lettuce at peter in response “that’s because everything is easy for you smartass”
“did you hear that flash showed photoshopped pictures of him and spider-man during bio and said they went to a party together last night?” “that- i don’t even know how to respond to that..”
going back to peters room once ur done
ned wearing the spider-man top you jokingly bought for him to annoy peter for his pyjamas
“hey pete what'd you think abo-“ “WHY DO YOU OWN THAT”
peter walking in with his messy brown curls wearing his star wars shirt and grey pyjama bottoms but still being able to look fine as hell
peter forcing you to wear his sweater
“do you feel cold? you could wear my sweater- i mean if that’s what you want-”
you walking back into peters room after changing in the bathroom to be greeted with peters cutest smile ever
his eyes would be full of love he feels as though he fell in love all over again
he pulls you into him and hides his face in your neck while hugging you mumbling “you're so pretty in my sweater” ¥]!|¥\$]€{$]
having a star wars marathon and quoting the movies
“i have brought peace, freedom, justice and hot guys to my new empire-” “y/n that’s not the quote!!” “yeah but LOOK AT HIM?”
ned and peter reenacting the mustafar in front of you with rulers instead of light-sabers
“only a sith deals with absolutes, i will do what i must.” “you will try.”
ned winning the ‘light-saber’ duel
“god your such dorks��� “and you love it”
ned falling asleep after the third movie bc it's already midnight
peter being antsy about not going on patrol tonight because he still feels like something wrong could be happening right this moment
you searching the latest news articles to see whether anything is happening to reassure him
“see everything is okay-” you get cut off by a bunch of sirens
worst. timing. ever.
him shooting out of his seat very quickly due to the spider reflexes, muttering a quick "i got to go" and kissing you on the forehead before putting on his suit and swinging out of the window
you worrying about peter bc he could be hurt
him coming back home at 4 am in the morning with cuts and bruises on his body
"so did spider-man stop the bad guys?" "he did"
tending to his wounds and scolding him for not being careful enough
him being so tired that he begins to say weird things as you continue to clean his cuts and bruises
"hey y/n, y/n y/n baby listen to me y/nnnn, angel, baby, pretty girl, you’re so pretty i love you”
him asking you to make him hot chocolate at 4am in the morning
resulting in the two of you sitting at the table drinking hot chocolate talking about life
"do you think we're going to stay friends after high school?" "of course we’ll stay friends!”
him talking about your future together not aware of the feelings it's giving you because although the smartest person ever, peter could be so clueless sometimes
"do you think we're going to have dogs or cats?" "w-what i-"
falling asleep on the living room couch with ur head on his chest and his arms around you tightly
waking up to the smell of May's choc-chip pancakes !!! (that ned mostly helped with)
wow i wished i had this
#marvel#mcu#avengers#spider-man#peter parker#spider-man x reader#peter parker x reader#spider-man homecoming#spider-man far from home#spider-man no way home#tom holland#tom holland x reader#iron man#spider man x you#peter parker headcanons#peter parker fluff#peter parker series#peter parker x yn#peter parker imagines#spider-man headcanons#tom holland headcanons#tom holland imagines#marvel x reader#avengers fanfiction#zendaya#mcu imagine#marvel fluff#bucky barnes#tom holland x y/n#wandavision
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Borrowed Sweaters, Stolen Kisses
— In a game of Truth or Dare, you’re dared to sneak into your crush’s dorm and steal one article of clothing to wear the next day. It just so happens that the hoodie you snatched was Shinsou’s favorite sweater.
pairing: shinsou hitoshi x reader
word count: 2,204
genre: fluff, aged up au (class 3a)
warnings: 16+, suggestive content
a/n: this used to be a harry potter fic i wrote on my hp account but i rewrote it for shinsou bc it just seemed fitting fhgjdhsfg. shinsou is in class 1a in this fic or 3a since they’re aged up and at least 18 years old u.u i hope y’all enjoy!! xx
“No way.” You shook your head, kicking your legs out in front of you as you ignored Hagakure’s poking and prodding.
It was a relatively relaxed Friday night, and you and your friends decided to spend it in your dorm with a bottle of whisky and a game of Truth or Dare. The truths ranged from anything to, “Fuck, marry, kill: Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari” to, “Who was the last person you sent a nude to?” And the dares weren’t any better. Ashido practically vomiting in the corner served as a great reminder of that.
You were just grateful the dares you received were rather mundane.
That was, until now.
“Y/N, you have to do it!” said Hagakure.
“Can’t I just forfeit this round and take a shot?”
“Nope, that’s only allowed for truths,” she quipped.
You glanced over at Jirou, a pleading look on your face, but you were met with a nonchalant shrug.
“Rules are rules,” Jirou sang, taking a swig of whisky before passing you the handle.
You opened your mouth to protest, but Mina’s fierce glare caused your words to die in your throat.
“If I had to chug that hot sauce concoction you guys made and then eat the mystery sushi until I felt sick, you can go to Shinsou’s room and steal a hoodie or something-- Sounds like a cakewalk compared to my dare.”
As she leaned her back against the bed, hand over her stomach as beads of sweat trailing down her forehead, you figured Mina was right. You’ve been in his dorm plenty of times before, anyway-- You two were friends and, at times, you supposed you enjoyed his company. What was the worst that could happen?
“You’re right.”
“I know.”
Rolling your eyes, you stood up and slipped some fuzzy socks on, ignoring the cheers coming from your tipsy roommates. When you reached the door, your friends watching fervently as you wandered off to your ill-fated trek, you paused at the handle.
You looked back at them, heaving a sigh. “If his dorm turns out to be booby trapped and I get caught, just know I will haunt you from the grave after I die of embarrassment.”
“We expect nothing less,” was Tsuyu’s smart reply.
Soon enough, you found yourself climbing up the boys’ side of Heights Alliance, feeling like you were doing a reverse walk of shame. It was a quarter past three o’clock in the morning and the odds of any of them being awake were slim to none, but that didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in your stomach.
You made your way to the front of Shinsou’s dorm room and cautiously placed your hand on the door handle. With a small grumble you fished the key card Hagakure stole from Hitoshi earlier (which made you wonder just how long your friends were planning this whole escapade out…) out of the pocket of your sweatpants.
For the most part, it looked just like your dormitory. Only neater. His desk was fairly organized and, aside from balls of yarn and different sizes of knitting needles, was clear enough to work on. Scarves and hoodies were piled onto the back of the chair and foot of the bed--which meant your dare should be easy enough to complete--and a dim light was left twinkling.
Everything seemed cozy and lived in. Normal.
Except for the fact that Shinsou Hitoshi was not in his bed.
“What on earth?” you murmured under your breath, finding it a bit strange the room was completely empty at this hour. But knowing him, you reckoned he was out training at any hour he could--something that worried you about him--or playing with a cat off campus grounds. It wasn’t unlikely.
Still, with your feet planted at the foot of his dormitory, you wanted to get out of there before you were caught. Because you knew there was no way in hell for your drunken ass to smooth talk your way out of this mess if he were to find you.
Your hand hovered over the article of clothing nearest to you, which was a sweater draped over the back of a chair, and you took a deep breath, saying, “It’s just a dare. You can do it.”
Before you lost all your nerve, you snatched the jumper with one hand and slipped out of the dorm. As you rushed down the stairs, you could’ve sworn you heard some shuffling coming from the empty room. But you didn’t care.
Part one of your dare was successfully completed.
Now for the hard part: Wearing it around the next day.
- - - - -
“How do I look?”
You posed in front of your roommate, trying not to laugh at how the borrowed jumper engulfed your frame. Walking down the center of your dorm, you gave a little twirl.
“Sexy,” Mina teased from her spot on her bed. “Shinsou’s sweater looks nice on you.”
Sticking your tongue out at her, you made a face. “I’m not sure what you mean. It’s pretty gross to me. I would never want to wear any of Shinsou’s clothes.”
“Then why did you put the hood over your head and bury your face in the collar?”
Slowly, you peered up at her with your view obstructed by the fabric. You sniffled haughtily, trying to ignore the soothing aroma of lavender and smoked wood that filled your sense.
Mina smirked, catching the small sigh of contentment that left your mouth as you basked in the scent of Shinsou’s hoodie. “Gross, huh?”
“Mention this to no one,” you mumbled with a nonthreatening glare, pulling the hood off your head and folding your fabric-covered hands over your chest.
Laughing, she tossed you your bookbag from across as she waited by the door, the rest of your friends back in their own rooms to get ready for class. “Come on, lovebug. You can see him during math in a few minutes.”
“I won’t be looking forward to it.”
You grumbled protests as the both of you made your way down the stairs of Heights Alliance and toward the main campus of U.A. High, but Ashido paid them no mind. Soon enough, you reached the room and spotted Jirou and Hagakure in their usual seats.
“Hey,” you quickly whispered, sliding into the seat next to Tooru before Ectoplasm sauntered over to the front of the class.
“Nice jumper,” she said simply, voice going an octave higher in amusement. “I knew you’d go through with it.”
Reminded of your rather bold choice of clothing (that was horribly out of dress code), you subconsciously tugged at the sleeves. You sent a quick plead to the gods above that you didn’t look as foolish as you thought you did.
While Ectoplasm introduced antiderivatives and indefinite integrals to the class, Hagakure nudged you on the side, sliding you a ripped piece of her parchment paper.
You looked at her curiously as Mina peered over your shoulder to catch sight of the writing.
DO NOT LOOK NOW!!! But I’m 100% certain Shinsou has been staring at you since the start of math class.
Of course, the first thing both you and Ashido did after reading the note was turn your heads at the same time towards the back of the class where Hitoshi and his friends were sitting. And, as your luck would have had it, you made directly eye contact with an amused-looking Shinsou.
Both you and Mina turned around to face the front so fast you were sure at least one of you received whiplash.
Wide-eyed and flushed, you exchanged glances with her, both of you trying to hold in your laughter.
“I told you not to look,” Hagakure whispered, a small giggle escaping from her lips, sending you three into fits of laughter you tried to muffle with your hands.
Behind you, someone cleared their throat, causing the three of you to straighten up in an instant.
“Something amusing you, ladies?”
“No, sir,” you quipped.
“Sorry, Ectoplasm-sensei,” remarked Tooru.
“We’ll shut up now,” promised Mina.
With a stern look on his face but a slight tilt of his smile, Ectoplasm nodded and returned to his lesson. “I trust you three will be experts of the integral calculus by the next lesson and I won’t have to catch you making doe eyes at a certain someone?”
Though he asked all three of you the question, his gaze was pointed at you and the class knew it. Your cheeks heated up as slouched into your chair. Perhaps if you tried hard enough, you could turn into the seat.
“Yes, sir,” you mumbled, ignoring the stifled laughter from Ashido and an apologetic, but amused, look from Hagakure.
And as he continued the lesson, you could’ve sworn you felt a certain pair of eyes on the back of your head until the end of it.
When class finally concluded and Ectoplasm dismissed the lot of you, you rushed out of the classroom as fast as you could.
But not fast enough.
“Nice sweater, Y/N,” you heard a deep voice call, stopping you in your footsteps. “Looks familiar.”
You swallowed, slowly turning around to face Shinsou--lazy smirk and all. There was nothing you wanted to do more than dash back to your dormitory and hide, but instead you straightened your spine and braved a look of nonchalance.
“Does it now?”
“Yeah,” he said with an amused look in his eyes. “I’d have to say it does.”
Peering up through your lashed, you looked at him with faux innocence. “I can’t say I know why.”
Slowly, he walked closer towards you as you moved back against the wall. He took the excess fabric of your sleeve into his hands, stroking them between his fingers.
“You know-- It even feels familiar.” He smiled thoughtfully. “Just like my sweater I happened to lose last night.”
By now, the halls had begun to clear up, the traitors you called friends having left you with a thumbs up right as Shinsou approached you.
You coughed as you repeated, “I wonder why.”
He was so close you could catch a whiff of his lavender and woodsy scent.
“If you wanted my clothes on you, Y/N, you could’ve just asked.”
You pointedly eyed the way he was toying with the hem of your--or rather, his--sweater, lifting it slightly. “Well, if you wanted my clothes off this badly, you could’ve just asked.”
Shinsou raised his eyebrows in surprise at your suggestion, hand frozen on the fabric. The intensity of his gaze melted your steely disposition, embarrassment creeping up to your neck.
“I’m only kidding,” you murmured, refusing to be the one to break eye contact.
“That’s a shame, then.”
You blinked. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
Biting the inside of your lip, you toyed with the bottom of your sweater.
“That’s my favorite jumper, you know?” mused Shinsou, looking fondly at the U.A. hoodie. “Aizawa got it for me when I entered the hero course.”
A horrified look crossed your face. You stole his favorite sweater that Eraserhead gifted him himself? Good going.
“Oh, shit,” you swore, reaching for the hem of the hoodie. “I’m sorry, Shinsou! I didn’t know.”
Chuckling, Shinsou placed his hand on top yours to stop you from removing it. “No-- You can keep it on.” You paused. “I’d say I quite like how it looks on you.”
Your heart skipped a beat when his hand that was still on your ran down the length of your fingers. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you interlaced them with his own, causing him to send a shocked but pleased look your way. You smiled.
He ran the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, gently drawing you closer to him. “If I were to kiss you right now, would you be upset?”
You shook your head, leaning into his touch. “Upset is the last thing I’d be.”
“Well, then I suppose--”
“What are the two of you doing?” you heard Aizawa exclaim as he rounded the corner, catching sight of the two of you against the hallway. He pulled Shinsou away from you by the collar, your cheeks flooding with embarrassment.
Shinsou, however, looked unperturbed.
“Sorry, Aizawa-sensei,” he said sincerely, “but what I was about to do just then-- I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.”
He chuckled at the shocked look on your face, giving you a wink as Aizawa released his shirt. Shinsou made his way back over to you across the hall.
“How cute you looked in my sweater was only the catalyst,” said Shinsou before placing both hands on either side of your hips, pulling you towards him in a brief but deep kiss.
“Shinsou! Y/L/N!”
“Sorry, sir.” This time, Shinsou didn’t sound so sincere as he ignored the appalled look on Aizawa’s face. “I just couldn’t wait until we got to the dorms to do that. Don’t worry though, Y/N-- I swear there will be far better kisses that’ll take place there as well.”
And though the two of you may have been sentenced to detention and cleaning duty for the next three weekends, you would have to say the kiss was definitely worth it.
#i'm in love with shinsou but we been knew#bnha#bnha x reader#bnha fanfiction#boku no hero academia#mha#mha x reader#mha fanfiction#bnha imagines#mha imagines#my hero academia#shinsou hitoshi#shinsou hitoshi x reader#shinso hitoshi#shinso hitoshi x reader#hitoshi shinso x reader#shinsou x reader#shinso x reader#bnha shinso#bnha fluff#fanfiction#reader insert#x reader#bnha x y/n#bnha x you#shinsou x y/n
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could you do the nsfw alphabet for atsumu please? thank you :)
Aw shit, here we go again...
NSFW Alphabet: Miya Atsumu
gn!reader focused
A/N: She hasn’t written in awhile but you know what I’m proud of it- lol be nice to me or I’ll leave forever jk I won’t but still be nice to me ily 💕 Atsumu is a menace I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Obviously nasty below the cut so if you’re a kid fuck off
𝕬 - 𝕬𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊
He’s not the best, but certainly not the worst. He will take care of you, but… only after he takes care of himself first. Usually that just means he needs to take a shower. Once he does, he’s free to supply cuddles until you both fall asleep.
𝕭 - 𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙
He has abs so solid you could make a sharkcoochie board on them. That’s all I’m going to say about that.
𝕮 - 𝕮𝖚𝖒
When Atsumu cums… he cums hard. It’s like having an out of body experience- every nerve cell in his body is firing off as he tenses up, digging his nails into whatever flesh he can grab, and grinding his heels into the surface supporting him. He bites down so hard his teeth grind involuntarily as his face contorts in a strained statuesque vision. One low growl from deep in his chest comes out through gritted teeth as he sputters out mixtures of “that’s it,” and “don’t you dare fucking stop.”
The orgasm face of Atsumu Miya is one of the 7 wonders of the world.
𝕯 - 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝕾𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙
It’s not a secret per se, but he’s been exposed and clowned for eating ass… so he doesn’t wanna talk about it.
𝕰 - 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊
So contrary to popular belief, I don’t think he’s that experienced... he’s just lucky! (Lmaoooo all of his experience is based on like 2 actual people that he maybe got to second base with (he says third but come on we know he’s lying) and then a litany of porn. Poor thing just wants some coochie I AM HERE KING and he has no trouble finding it, he just never seals the deal. He’s someone who just kind of, knows what to do naturally. He’s able to read someone’s body by touch alone, and so he knows what you like right off the bat based on how you react. He might try a couple of things at the start to see what really makes you squirm, but once he’s got it... holy hell has he ever got it.
𝕱 - 𝕱𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕻𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓
I hate to say how easy this was- but I KNOW Atsumu is a guy who prefers doggy. I see him as a hair puller, so this is perfect for him. I also could see him being into mirrors, and this is the perfect position to make you look at what he’s doing to you, especially while he’s pulling your head back by your hair. He especially likes gripping his thumbs into the smalls of your back (he crosses his arms bc saw it in a porn once and he thinks it makes him look cool), and when he’s INTO it, he likes to smack your ass to encourage you.
𝕲 - 𝕲𝖔𝖔𝖋𝖞
Is goofy by accident. Like will sometimes try throwing in something new with his normal dirty talk that completely throws you off. He hates when you laugh at him for it, but you find it endearing.
𝕳 - 𝕳𝖆𝖎𝖗
I’m gonna… say something so controversial yet so bold:
What hair?
And yes I mean that. Smooth. He waxes. Monthly. No hair. (Besides like… legs and armpits… yah he doesn’t touch those) Naked mole rat dick but fuck it he’s Atsumu motherfucking Miya he can do what he wants.
𝕴 - 𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖞
While he’s not the most... romantic in general per se, he does want to make you feel appreciated. He’s very eager to get his, but he won’t allow himself to unless you have already. It takes restraint, but he cools himself down by having you get on top, or by leaving lingering kisses anywhere he can, saying you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.
𝕵 - 𝕵𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕺𝖋𝖋
When he’s away from you he loves to send you videos of himself or FaceTime you. He gets you worked up enough to join him no matter where you are. He just needs to see you, he needs you to see him stroking his cock to the thought of you- he can’t cum without you telling him to.
𝕶 - 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐
I have to get this out but I KNOW he’s nasty. I imagine Atsumu as a huge dirty talker and also someone who’s into spitting. Both of those are just clear in my brain... like he would be pundinng you from behind, spit on your back, and then call you a slut all in 3 seconds flat but the way that you would cream? Ugh insanity he needs to be arrested he needs to be stopped
𝕷 - 𝕷𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓
Since he’s got money now- he’s a big fan of ordering Uber XLs or even just hiring a driver for a night on the town as a flex. But he especially loves telling his driver to put up the window partition while he annihilates you in the backseat. I just think he’s a fan of car sex in general- it just does it for him.
𝕸 - 𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓
Loves to hear his name. Whether you’re moaning it or screaming it like it’s the only word you know, he’s always going to ask you who you belong to, and the answer is always Atsumu.
𝕹 - 𝕹𝖔!
He totally eats ass. He’s just not gonna tell anyone bc he told Osamu ONCE and now his contact name is ASStumu and he lives in fear of that getting out.
𝕺 - 𝕺𝖗𝖆𝖑
Sloppppppyyyyyy. Loves giving ~slightly~ more than receiving, simply bc he loves the sight of seeing his spit dripping down your thighs while he goes down on you. Loves eye contact when you’re going down on him.
𝕻 - 𝕻𝖆𝖈𝖊
Though I wouldn’t say he’s super experienced, I know he’s relentless. He fucks. Literally just fucks. Not in the sense that he only treats you like a hole bc yikes, but in the sense that he just goes the speeds of fast or faster. There’s no slow with him.
𝕼 - 𝕼𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖎𝖊
Yeah. Lots of them. Anywhere, anytime. Particularly for him, a lot of them end up being in his car, simply because you’ll be out somewhere and the mood strikes. He’ll quickly take you out to the car for a few minutes, slut you out, and then return to the function like nothing happened. You’ve had many a quickie in a bathroom or closet in a party as well. When he wants you, he wants you, so he’s not afraid to take you.
𝕽 - 𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖐
Not as much of a risk-taker as people think. Mostly because he wants to protect you. He would hate for someone to see you in such a compromising position… but also, you’ve had your fair share of quickies in the bathrooms of various wedding receptions, so he’s lying.
𝕾 - 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆
Can last a decent amount of time, if he spreads it out over multiple rounds. I’m general, he can probably go about 2 or 3 rounds without needing a break. More if you draw out foreplay with him. He’s a pleaser, so really how long he lasts is up to you. He’s got the power and control to hold off on is own release until he’s certain you absolutely can’t take anymore.
𝕿 - 𝕿𝖔𝖞
One of those mfs who gets you the mold of his dick as a toy for your birthday for when he’s away because according to him “you’ll be so needy while I’m gone”
I hate him so much but I would use that shit every day he knows what he’s doing I’m so upset
𝖀 - 𝖀𝖓𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗
Speaking of being needy- he loves to egg you on when you are. He knows all the buttons to push, but he’ll never actually make the move until you’re begging. And of course he loves to turn that around in you, hitting you with that “god, ya just can’t get enough of me, can ya?”
𝖁 - 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖒𝖊
He’s more of a talker than a moaner. Not necessarily loud in bed- but very, very vocal. Commanding of you in a good way, and will definitely show his appreciation through praise.
𝖂 - 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖉
Actually has a Cosmo subscription bc he likes trying all the strange and obscure sex positions in the articles. Also likes taking the quizzes, and will casually have you do them with him at breakfast.
𝖃 - 𝖃-𝕽𝖆𝖞
he’s a little on the thicker side. Its probably a good 7 inches, so it’s enough to fill you, add in the stretch of his girth and it’s a good, mild burn when he first goes in, but he fills you just enough without it being way too much. He’s a shower, so he doesn’t get much longer, but you have a lot to work with. He also has a cute freckle on his left inner thigh.
𝖄 - 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌
His sex drive is on the higher end, but really only when he’s in his off season. When he’s actively playing in games, he tries to curb his appetite a bit because he believes in the superstition that sex messes with players’ stamina on the court.
𝖅 - 𝖅𝖟𝖟
He’s gonna knock out, but not until he showers. He ALWAYS showers after. The water soothes his muscles and by the time he’s done it’s lights out.
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#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu hcs#hq headcanons#hq hcs#atsumu smut#atsumu x reader#haikyuu smut#hq smut#daisy’s red light district 🚨
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Drunk Texts
For the @drarrymicrofic prompt: Love Letter
One balmy night in June, Harry’s lying in bed wide awake--unable to sleep again--when his mobile lights up on the nightstand. The only people who ever contact him on his mobile are Teddy (“All the cool wizards have them these days, Harry, please get one so I can send you memes!”) and Hermione, and neither of them would be texting this late.
Friday, June 6 2008, 1:27 AM
+445195555555: I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since we were sixteen, won’t shut my bloody mouth about you actually, can I take you on a date? I’m still very rich, all things considered, and know all the best restaurants in Wizarding Britain.
+445195555555: Maybe just a shag, then?
Harry: bloody hell, who is this??
Harry: This number is unlisted, I don’t know how you got it but I’m blocking it now. Kindly, fuck off.
+445195555555: WAIT
+445195555555: What do you mean, who is this? I thought muggle mobiles know who you’re talking to already.
Harry: Not if a strange person is texting in the middle of the bloody night from a number I’ve never seen before!
+445195555555: If you don’t want to date me or shag me just say so, Potter. No need to play hard to get and toss around insults
+445195555555: Unless that’s a thing for you, cheeky ;) ;)
Harry: Last chance, tell me who this is or I’m blocking your number.
+445195555555: Draco
+445195555555: Obviously ;)
Harry: Draco...Malfoy?
Harry: You expect me to believe Draco Malfoy is confessing his love and hitting me up for a shag at 1am. On a *muggle* mobile.
+445195555555: Believe it scarhead, now answer the question do you or do you not want to shag me
Harry: Look, you’ve obviously read one too many Prophet articles…
Harry: Somehow found my number...did you confund someone I know??
Harry: And thought that...pretending to be Draco Malfoy, of all people, would entice me to meet up with a total stranger?
+445195555555: Ooh, the logic of it all, Potter ;)
Harry: Stop doing that
+445195555555: what ;) ;)
Harry: The emojis. Malfoy would never use emojis.
+445195555555: You don’t know what I would or wouldn’t do anymore Potter. Would you like to learn? ;)
Harry: Fuck
Harry: Even if I believed you, I’ve never given Draco Malfoy my number. My *muggle* mobile number.
Harry: I’ve never given him my number because Draco Malfoy would never use a *muggle* mobile.
Harry:...among other reasons
+445195555555: Always so preoccupied with blood purity, Potter, haven’t you learned anything?
+445195555555: And there you go again, assuming that you know what I would and would not do
+445195555555: It really would be much more efficient if you just let me demonstrate
Harry: oh my god
Harry: I can’t believe I’m still messaging you
Harry: ffs, you have one chance to convince me that you’re really Malfoy otherwise I’m blocking you immediately
+445195555555: You are a tetchy one, hm?
+445195555555: Fine. You cornered me in a bathroom in 6th bc you were *obsessed* with me and tried to murder me using sectumsempra (which you claimed not to know the effect of, pft) but only because I tried to Crucio you and I would have died if Snape hadn’t found us and cleaned up your mess (again)
+445195555555: They definitely didn’t print THAT in the Prophet. Unfortunately.
Harry: Bloody hell um...okay…
Harry: Look, about that, Malfoy…
Harry: Wait, unfortunately…??
+445195555555: So you see, Potter, it is in fact I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, confessing my love and “hitting you up for a shag at 1am” as you so elegantly put it.
+445195555555: ;)
Harry: Okay. Malfoy, then. Jesus.
Harry: How exactly did you get my number?
Harry: For that matter, when did you get a mobile?
Draco Sodding Malfoy: I got it from Pansy, who got it from Ginny, you recalcitrant twat
Draco Sodding Malfoy: See, I can do the sexy insults thing, too :*
Draco Sodding Malfoy: And if you must know, Potter, I purchased a mobile years ago to stay in contact with my cousin, Teddy. Teddy Lupin. I think you’re acquainted? The little brat refuses to owl, apparently it’s “sooo medieval”.
Harry: Oh. That...actually makes sense. He said the same thing to me.
Harry: Hang on, Teddy isn’t a brat. I thought you two got on rather well…?
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Whatever, the point is I’m mad for you and I never told you because, well, there was the whole war thing and then the whole trial thing, and since then I’ve become a bit of a self-righteous coward. Also, I fancy myself something of a martyr. I think the constant pouting makes my mouth look more kissable, don’t you?
Draco Sodding Malfoy: We could do the dinner thing if we must, or you can just come round mine I can meet you there right now
Harry: Oh. You’re drunk.
Harry: Never pegged you as the type to get sloshed and text your ex-childhood-nemesis for a hookup
Draco Sodding Malfoy: not with that attitude you haven’t
Harry: Hah
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Not drnk
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Honestly, Potter
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Harry
Harry: weird
Draco Sodding Malfoy: I’ve seen the way you watch me when you think I’m not looking. You look at me like some lovesick teenager. Why deny what *literally everyone* can plainly see?
Harry: I do not look at you like a...lovesick teenager, Malfoy.
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Draco ;)
Harry: I do not watch you, DRACO.
Draco Sodding Malfoy: I only notice because I’m watching you too, Harry. All the time. I’ve been watching you for as long as I can remember.
Draco Sodding Malfoy: You’ve practically been the center of my universe since I was eleven years old, for Merlin’s sake. I think about you all the time. I miss you all the time, even when we’re in the same room.
Draco Sodding Malfoy: I mean I LITERALLY do not shut up about you I wasn’t exaggerating about that. It drives Pansy and Blaise, who have the patience and constitutions of actual saints and who are very, very good friends, absolutely mental and they’d like nothing more than to hex my mouth shut permanently.
Harry: um
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Admit it.
Draco Sodding Malfoy: You’ve wondered what it’d be like.
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Imagined it.
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Us
Harry: Malfoy…
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Draco
Harry: Draco…
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Yes, Harry? ;)
Harry: I...could do dinner.
Draco Sodding Malfoy: You could “do” dinner? That’s all, after everything I’ve just said, you can “do” dinner??
Harry: For the love of Merlin
Harry: Fine. You’re right, Draco. I...have wondered
Harry: About us, I mean
Harry: Ahh and actually Draco sometimes when I look at you I just want…
Friday, June 6 2008, 2:15 AM
Draco Sodding Malfoy: what
Draco Sodding Malfoy: you want what
Friday, June 6 2008, 2:48 AM
Draco Sodding Malfoy: harry
Friday, June 6 2008, 3:09 AM
Draco Sodding Malfoy: harry, bloody hell
Saturday, June 7 2008, 6:45 AM
Harry: Draco, I’m so sorry
Saturday, June 7 2008, 8:18 AM
Harry: My mobile died and I didn’t have my charger
Saturday, June 7 2008, 9:23 AM
Harry: Draco
Saturday, June 7 2008, 11:47 AM
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Potter, why on earth are you contacting me so early on a Saturday?
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Scratch that, why are you contacting me at all? Where did you get my number?
Harry: Oh, so you were drunk
Draco Sodding Malfoy: How is my present or past level of intoxication any of your concern?
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Oh.
Draco Sodding Malfoy: No.
Harry: Draco, what’s wrong? What happened?
Harry: Draco…?
Harry: I’m sorry, if I said something…
Harry: Look, YOU’RE the one drunk messaging ME at all hours of the night looking for a shag!
Saturday, June 7 2008, 7:08 PM
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Dear Harry,
Draco Sodding Malfoy: I hereby formally apologize for my previous messages. They are inappropriate and entirely out of line, do forgive me. Although it appears that Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson absconded with my mobile yesterday evening to, “have a bit of fun”, I take full responsibility for what has transpired. Do not report me, or something. I do hope you were not too offended. I will henceforth refrain from contacting you by this, or any other, means. I assure you that my traitorous, juvenile, back-stabbing, inconsiderate, so-called friends have been soundly reprimanded. You may expect their formal apologies via owl, posthaste.
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Apologetically, Draco L. Malfoy
Harry: Wow, uh, ok. I’ve never gotten a formal apology over text before. Did it take you...8 hours to write that?
Harry: And for the record, I knew something was up. We may not be best mates or anything but I know you wouldn’t use emojis like that.
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Oh, bugger off, Potter you had no idea it wasn’t me. You were ready to spill your innermost desires to a stranger on your mobile! Stupid Gryffindor.
Draco Sodding Malfoy: Ah.
Draco Sodding Malfoy: I mean, goodbye! So sorry, again, for the inconvenience! We will never speak again from this moment on!
Harry: Draco, wait
Draco ;): Merlin, what, Potter?
Harry: Harry
Draco ;): No.
Harry: Fine. Look, if you accept full responsibility, does that mean your offer still stands?
Draco ;): What offer?
Draco ;): No. It doesn’t, whatever it is.
Harry: Your offer to take me on a date.
Harry: ;)
Draco ;): Bloody...Potter, that wasn’t MY offer!
Harry: Perhaps not, but I’ve seen the way you watch me when you think I’m not looking...Draco.
Draco ;): Who is this? I’m blocking this number. I’m going to ask Pansy how to block a number.
Harry: Draco, I’m serious.
Saturday, June 7 2008, 9:14 PM
Harry: Draco, I can tell that you didn’t block my number.
Saturday, June 7 2008, 11:47 PM
Harry: Fine.
Harry: Draco, could I take you out for dinner some time? I know someone who knows all the best restaurants in Wizarding Britain.
Draco ;): …..
Harry: ?
Draco ;): If you must
Harry: If I must?
Draco ;): It's true that I'm still rich, all things considered, but you’re paying
Draco ;): ;)
#drarrymicrofic#drarry drabble#drarry#harry x draco#texting au#hey harry u up?#pansy and blaise got bored at a party#they were trying to help#they promise#minimose
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all love {steve rogers}
summary: you had a lot to say to steve rogers after he left. finally, you get your chance.
warnings: angst, mentions of death
believe it or not, this version is actually the one with the happier ending than all the other ideas i had. so pls don’t hate me, bc this ain’t fluff :)
- jazz xx
Steve Rogers was a complicated man.
You knew that. You could see it in his eyes because you were just as complicated too. It was a blessing and a curse, really; it meant that you understood him just as much as you didn’t; sympathised with him just as much as you struggled. His emotions were clear as day and somehow, still twisted and unintelligible like a tangle of rainclouds in the middle of a stormy night. The history behind his blue eyes was long and confusing and it was unfair to expect you to decipher it when Steve could barely do it himself. He’d lived about a thousand lifetimes in the span of time that most people lived one - so you gave in on understanding, and chose to just love him instead.
It was easier that way, to just take it day by day and unpack his baggage as the super soldier saw fit. Sometimes it was hours and hours of talking; long and late nights, filled with tired eyes and the smell of caffeine. Stolen glances met with soft giggles and recounts of the war, the good times and the bad. Other times, it was more twisted. Deeper and darker. Strangled screams and cries lost to the night, large hands reaching for the gun under his pillow that posed the question of how fucking long has that been there, Steve?
In time, the good was worth the bad. You must had the patience of a fucking saint, because Steve finally stopped mourning for the past and began to look to the future. You hadn’t made solid plans -- that was foolish in your line of work. Between fighting aliens and robots, you were both blessed to have even made it this far. So, the day by day method worked in that sense too, and any big plans always became maybe. Maybe we’ll have kids one. Maybe we’ll move out of Brooklyn and to the suburbs. Maybe we’ll find a nice house with a picket fence and a garden big enough for Bucky to run around in.
What you had was beautiful, in the most complicated way. Because Steve Rogers was a perplexing man, but before that, he was kind and funny and sweet. He looked after you and you looked after him. Wrote you letters on long missions and left little notes for everyday that he was away. Sent you the dumbest good morning texts and the sweetest good night ones. For every emotional pitfall that you found yourselves in, Steve would turn up with a rope, even if he’d been the one to dig the hole in the first place.
It went more than just skin deep, twisting your souls together in some kind of emotional vortex that you wouldn’t have thought to be true had you not witnessed alien invasions and everything that followed. In fact, it was the everything that followed that you pushed you together even more - because it was the blip that had made you and Steve realised fucking important what you had was.
Those had been desperate moments. Painful, desperate moments. One minute, you’d been watching Wanda Maximoff cry out in pain for her lost love, and then she was gone. So was Bucky. And T’Challa. And Stephen Strange. In mere seconds; so quickly that your brain couldn’t even comprehend what was going on. It was as though somebody had turned your brain off for a few seconds - and when it rebooted, all you could think about was Steve.
You didn’t remember much from the seconds that followed, other than the burning in your lungs from how impossibly fast you had run, and how soar your throat was from screaming out his name. Then your bodies had collided with a thud, and you’d been met with a solid chest. Warm arms and big hands, that were completely and entirely there and not being dusted away. You’d never clung onto him so tightly, barely able to breath from how hard reality had just hit you. But he held onto you, and kept you standing - a metaphor which would stick to the next five years in the most bittersweet way.
The first few months were hard. Hard to stomach, hard to accept, hard to mourn. Everyone was floating around one another, still struggling to truly get over the fact that for once, the Avengers hadn’t won. You hadn’t gotten cocky, but after the Chitauri, and after Ultron, you had become hopeful. Nobody could blame you. Hope was all you’d had, really.
You found a routine. Steve found a reason to live in you, and you’d found an inkling of ambition in him. After a few months in the Compound, you’d gone back to your apartment in Manhattan. You’d never been more grateful to have it -- because when the entire world had changed around you, at least one thing was still the same. You could shut the door and lock it behind you, just existing as you always had in those four walls. The rest of the world didn’t matter, because it just you, and it was Steve, and that was the world. It was your world, and it was his.
After everything becoming so unpredictable, the stability that his presence brought was everything you needed. It cemented your need for one another - your love for another.
But unpredictably has a funny way of working, doesn’t it?
Never in a million years would you have imagined that the thing brought you closer would have been the thing to tear you apart. That restoring the world back to the state you’d longed for would bring an end to the only thing you thought was certain. You’d calculated every outcome of reversing the blip, thought about every way that it was everything you’d ever wanted. Finally, everything you’d lost would come back, and you and Steve could live as you always wanted. In the world you wanted.
But he wasn’t there.
One possibility you hadn’t considered was that Steve would have access to the time stone. You were both getting back to the world’s your mourned for, but they weren’t the same. You’d only been mourning the last five years, whilst Steve had been mourning the last seven decades. Somewhere along the long, you’d convinced yourself that the little bubble you’d built for yourselves was enough to cushion that. That your relationship, and your love, was enough compensation for the fact he’d lost everything.
Because Steve was good with words, but not quite enough to express to you how truly out of time he’d been. You saw the way his eyes glazed over when he spoke of the forties, but you couldn’t feel the pain in his chest when he heard an old record. You couldn’t fathom the suffocation he felt every time he saw pictures of his lost friends, or the weight on his chest that losing Peggy Carter had given him. It had alleviated slightly when he met you, but truthfully speaking, Steve Rogers hadn’t taken a deep breath since the final moments before his plane hit the ice in 1945.
The pain you felt when you realised that he’d well and truly left you for his old life was minute compared to what he’d been feeling since he woke up all those years ago. It didn’t matter, because pain was pain regardless. His relief didn’t negate your suffering. And, if you’d ever been wondering what you would have felt if you had lost Steve in the blip, you needn’t had looked any further. This was worst than him dying. This was worst than him slipping away with millions of others, because he’d chosen to do it. He’d thought about you, and everything you’d tried to give him, and he’d decided it wasn’t enough.
You didn’t get it at first. Couldn’t sympathise with his situation - but let’s face it. Who the fuck could? It wasn’t like there was a WikiHow article on how to get over the love of your life time travelling back to the 1940s and leaving you in ruins. For the first time since you’d met Steve all those years ago, you were forced to process all your emotional trauma on your own. To stand on your own two feet without his broad arms supporting you in the way they had on the battlefield in Wakanda.
It took time. You processed it with time. Drank a lot, cried a lot, screamed a lot. Found solace in your friendships with Bucky and Sam; even if they’d been a little much at first, forcing you to share the payload of your pain with them had helped. At times, it was like going to group therapy with Spongebob and Patrick, but you held them close to your heart. You learnt to find joy and appreciation in other things, and to tune out Steve, and the mention of his name.
That was until March 2021, almost two years to the day that he had left you standing on the lakeside in the Compound. You’d been driving home from work and his name had been mentioned on the radio - Captain America, former war hero and super soldier, has died aged 103.
It didn’t sting too much. You’d mourned Steve Rogers a long time ago - at least the version of him that you knew. It made your chest hurt a little that he was truly and completely gone, and that you would never have a chance to talk to him. You’d toyed with the idea of going to visit him in his old age. Part of you wanted to know if he remembered you, even if for him, everything you’d had together had been decades ago. Even though you’d existed together in the future, your life together was cemented entirely in the past the minute you’d went back. Decades had passed before you existed at the same time again, and you wondered if time had been enough for him to forget. Two years for you had been seventy for him. It was thought that had made you shy away from ever talking to him, because you didn’t want to know. You were scared of the answer.
Maybe that was why you were only seeing him now; on a rainy day, when the man you’d once loved was six feet under and surrounded by a ridiculous headstone you knew he would hate. The air around you was cool, sky tinged grey and a few droplets splashing against the grey stone, making it turn a slightly darker shade. There were no tears; just a deep sigh, and an awkward shuffle as you wriggled your toes in your boots and thought about what the fuck you wanted to say.
‘Hey, Cap.’ You murmured. ‘Can I call you that? I used to call you babe. No, I don’t know why I said that. That’s fucking weird. Like this whole situation, because somehow, even though I’ve dealt with aliens and gods, saying goodbye to you is one I was never truly prepared for.’
Your eyes fell to the floor, and you continued. ‘You suck, Steve Rogers. You really fucking suck. You know that, right? That it’s a dick move to go back to your old life without even leaving a note? Or a text? Heck, I would have been happy if you spelt it out on the fridge in magnets.’
‘It’s okay, though.’ You smiled. ‘I’m not mad anymore. Okay, maybe I am a little, but not as I used to be. I understand why you did it, but I also get that I’ll never understand at all. I’ll never get how existing in a time that wasn’t yours felt, or how out of place you must have been in a world seventy years ahead of what you knew.’
‘And I’m sorry, I guess. Sorry that I didn’t try harder, but also sorry that whatever I tried to give you wasn’t enough to make up for what you’d lost.’ You sniffed. ‘This is where you’d tell me to shut up and stop being so hard on myself. So I will, because we’re both at peace now and that’s the most important thing.’
There were a few tears then; not for the man beneath you, but for the man that had left you. When all the anger subsided, you realised that above all, you just missed him. You missed the late night conversations when you couldn’t sleep, and you missed how warm he felt beside you when you did finally drift off. You missed the way he laughed at your driving skills and the way he would eat your side salad because you hated it. You longed to his hear his singing in the shower in the morning, and to squeal at him for pressing his cold feet to your back to wake you up.
‘Above all, Steve Rogers, I’m just grateful I had you, even for a few years.’ You took a deep breath. ‘The pain I felt when you left was unbearable, but it wasn’t permanent. The memories you gave me, and the love I felt for you? That’s gonna stay with me forever.’
You wiped away a few tears, smiling to yourself when the clouds above you cleared slightly. The grey ones that had been lingering all morning had shifted slightly, allowing for the sunlight to peak through and cast a glow over your surroundings. Tiny, dewy raindrops lingered on the grass, enveloping the world around you in the smell of petrichor and relief. You’d never believed in fate, or the afterlife, or messages from the underworld, but that? You hadn’t felt a rush like that the last time you woke up beside him.
‘So, thanks I guess.’ You glanced up at the sky, blinking under the bright sun. ‘And rest easy, Cap.’
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers angst#captain america x reader#captain america x you#captain america imagine#avengers x reader#avengers x you#avengers imagine#avengers angst#avengers fan fiction#marvel x you#marvel imagine#marvel imagines#marvel fan fiction
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DINLUKE F1 AU
ok so I had this in my notes for fucking ages so fuck it here we go
inspired by @ehi7backup incredible art [look at it here]
TW: Luke lost his hand in a crash, Luke has ptsd
Luke is the new hotshot star driver for Ferrari, Anakin was the best F1 pilot the world has ever seen, but after a horrid crash, he had to stop. Now his kids step up, Luke as driver and Leia as team principal (tho ppl say she could have surpassed Luke as a driver). Wedge is his co-pilot or Mara idk.
Luke's first season was incredible but he got into a horrible crash and lost his hand and now everyone is very skeptical if he can make his comeback this season. The team is under pressure anyways bc ppl say there is a curse on them since Anakin also had a horrid crash, you know Skywalker fuckery.
Din drives for Red Bull, tho they are referred to by some as the death watch, drawing suspicions with their weird training regiments. The Armorer is the team principal and Boba is Din's copilot. Din never takes his helmet off, mostly bc he rly just got into racing bc it's the only thing he was ever good at and he just wants to care for his kid and be left alone.
Bo-Katan is on Toro Rosso, and fucking hates Din's guts bc she used to drive for Red Bull but got knocked down to Toro Rosso last season so Din could have her spot (Din is oblivious to that rivalry). Koska is her copilot. Satine is the team principal and she and Bo never see eye to eye. Also, Satine has a weird history with that old dude that hangs around Ferrari all the time it's Obi-Wan.
Han and Chewie are in one of those weird teams that keep changing their sponsor and team name all the time so they are just known by the name Han lovingly gave his car, the Millennium Falcon. Lando is somehow their team principal even though no one knows where the heck he came from.
Then there is Mercedes with Gideon as team principal and Maul and ikd Ventress or someone as their drivers (nothing against Mercedes it just has to be one of the top teams u know for the drama).
Palpatine is the slimy old dude that has some shady money and hangs around like a menacing presence. He keeps trying to recruit Luke for one thing or the other and Anakin fucking hates his guts.
Cobb and Fennec are Ferraris and Red Bulls head mechanics respectively and always share the hot gossip. Obi-Wan, who blames himself for Anakin's accident, floats around like a weird ghost and occasionally offers strange advice. There is also Ashoka who was one of the most promising drivers and used to drive with Anakin but then shit happened and she noped out.
ANYWAYS Luke has always been curious about the gruff Red Bull driver who never takes his helmet off and they have a lot of run-ins, where ppl tell Luke to stay away but he's just so intrigued. And then one night he exists his trailer and wants to get away from the attention for one night bc he's already fighting a panic attack and runs into Din with Grogu on his arm who is fleeing as well. And Luke, bless him, does not connect the fact that Din and the mysterious driver are the same person, he just sees a hot dad and is head over heels.
And Din is nice and he is gentle and funny and knows how to talk Luke out of a panic attack and it becomes somewhat of a habit for them to meet up after races and they low-key start to date all while Luke has no clue who Din is bc he only ever introduced himself as Din, but on the track they are all called by their last name so---
Well you guessed it, Luke's season is actually going fucking great, so he and Din end up being pegged as rivals and it's blown up real big and Luke doesn't mind bc it's all in good fun, but what he does mind is that Djarin is suddenly always a bit too close to him when they are standing in line to be weight?
Or their hands will brush when they pass each other in the hallway?? And he'll always somehow magically be around when Luke is about to have a panic attack and he does this thing where he leans their helmets together when Luke is freaking out and look it's all rly nice and lovely and he appreciates it so much, but also he has this rly nice thing going with Din and ppl are starting to talk and he doesn't want Din to think he is dating someone else but also he's getting kinda attached to Djarin and his rly soothing voice and oh gosh
But yea anyways there are so many possibilities like
it was actually Din who pulled Luke out of the wreck when he had his accident, Luke doesn't remember bc he was out cold
news articles and tweets and stuff that talk about Skywalker's and Djarin's rivalry that eventually morph into talking about them having a secret affair
Leia telling Luke over coms to come in for a tire change and Luke absolutely refusing bc Djarin is hot on his heels and he can't lose to him while Din is watching the race
Din telling Luke he can always call him and he'll always be there, except during races and Luke is high-key sad about that bc he would love to talk to Din before the race bc he's anxious but he respects Din's boundaries etc. BUT THE REASON DIN IS UNAVAILABLE IS BC HE'S IN THE DAMN RACE
eventual shit going down when they discover that Palp is cheating or some shit
Leia absolutely losing it when she finds out Luke thinks Din and Djarin are two different people
Han
#I haven't watched last season idk if any of this makes sense anymore#but yea fuck it this is just for vibes#this is mostly based on the fact that drive to survive has sport anime vibes#dinluke#dinluke modern au#I wanted this to be pure crack but you know gotta have the angst#dinluke F1 Au
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Aria + Periods + 127 = Chaos
Taeil
taeil has a younger sister, so he didn’t need her to explain anything to her
honestly, he’s one of the members she’ll go to first if she needs anything
the least likely to make a big deal out of it
just kinda
shrugs
and does what is needed of him
sometimes pain meds don’t do anything for aria’s cramps they get so bad
and on those days, she’ll slid into his bed and either
A: snuggle with him and let him cuddle her
or B: just curl up underneath his sheets until he gets back from wherever he was and then do option A
he really hates her periods
like, more than she does
because she’s always a little deflated in the upcoming days, and for the first two of the actual periods
and he hates seeing her in pain or be sad
even if the thing she’s sad at is the advertisement of the cute dog
definitely chuckles at her when she comes to him with slightly teary eyes and whines that she misses her dog now
but opens his arms willingly anyway, letting his maknae plonk herself in his lap and rest her head on his chest
Johnny
there is no better man to try and make aria feel better
that’s actually a lie
aria will point blank avoid him on her periods
he read once
once
in an article that physical exercise helps with cramps and the other pms-ing symptoms
and now every single time she opens her mouth to complain about her uterus trying to eject itself from her body
johnny’s right there with an invitation to the gym
he’s literally packed and changed, they can go right now
truth be told aria took him up on the offer once
never again
she couldn’t walk afterwards
he had to carry her out
asides from that though
he’s pretty okay with everything?
like obviously, he doesn’t really get it all too much, but if she wants someone to massage her back, then he’ll offer without too many questions
but when she’s crying about something?
oh ho ho ho
bear hugs
just a big ol’ swaddling hug that makes aria feel warm n safe n content
they heal everything
it’s aria’s life philosophy
Taeyong
totally understanding
she needs pads? he’s either already bought them, or will go out to buy them for her
doesn’t have a tracker for her, but somehow knows when she’s cramping the week before its due
once came up with the innovative idea of using their handwarmers as a makeshift hot water bottle when they were on a schedule and aria was suffering :(
aria gets really bad lower back cramps, and its super common to just see him gently pushing her onto the couch
so he can try and massage some of the tension
keeps pads in his travelling bags
completely unprompted - it just started being something he’d pack
like heat packs and pain patches and bandages;
period supplies just eventually got added to the list
was a little uncomfy with the whole thing at the start
but his older sister yelled at him
told him to stop “being a baby” and “she’s your responsibility, act like it.”
aria felt really bad for burdening him with it all
lowkey wished she was a boy for inconveniencing everyone with it
and taeyong had to sit her down and tell her no baby
it was natural and it didn’t bother anybody
that she didn’t have to hide it
that she could come to them if she was in pain because of it
Yuta
oh this man
when he found out that aria was getting lightheaded on her periods
when he found out that she passed out once on her period
did so much research on why that might have happened and how to help
literally stayed up all night and came to aria the next morning like
“are you eating enough iron?”
the answer was no, btw
made it his mission to make sure aria did after that
always has a little bag of nuts or something else in a side pocket of his bag if he knows aria’s on her period
gets concerned asf when she misses her periods
because he knows it’s because of unnecessary diets or her putting in extra time in the practice room
aria loves going to his room when she’s feeling miserable
he’s always down to watch a movie or just lay down with her
he’ll plait her hair or just lay together and press a lil kiss to her forehead when she whines about the cramps
hates hates hates when she cries
he knows it’s because of hormones, he has two sisters
but that doesn’t make it easier
will do absolutely anything to get her to stop crying
once went out at 3am to get her ice-cream
which actually made her cry harder
bc she felt bad that she couldn’t eat it because she’s lactose-intolerant
he just felt worse
that was not a good night
now the freezer in the dorms has a little tub of non-dairy ice-cream with aria’s name on it
curtesy of yuta
Doyoung
when aria first moved into the 127 dorms
he bought a little pink box with a lid that he then proceeded to fill with tampons and pads; the whole shebang
which he then put in the locker beneath the sink
and told anyone that if they made a big deal out if it, he’d kill them :)
incredibly perceptive
knows when aria’s on her period before aria knows
“hey do u need a pad?” “ why do i need a pad?”
*an hour later*
“oppa do u have any pads”
he’s less of a come here and i’ll comfort you type
and more of a, i’m going to help you from the sidelines without ever actually acknowledging it’s existence
like perceiving it makes it worse
honestly aria’s pretty thankful he’s like this
she loves that the other members take care of her like they do, don’t get her wrong
but its like, for five days - she can do no wrong, she’s accommodated, and sometimes walked on eggshells around
it’s nice to have someone who’s going to treat her like normal
to balance it out
does that stop her pulling the “i’m in pain” card when she’s about to get scolded?
no
Jaehyun
jaehyun doesn’t have any siblings, so he was really learning from scratch with aria
however
that was actually a good thing
because it meant that whatever aria told him; he did
if she needed a heating pack - he’d go find one for her
if she needed to just lie down for a bit - he’d take her into her room and close the curtains to let her take a nap
now, she didn’t take advantage of this
much
but she just thought it was really sweet of him
and tells him as much
and every time, he’ll just pat her head
maybe a lil kiss on the forehead
and pull the blanket up to her chin before leaving and flicking off the lights
that’s kind of the extent of what he’ll do
mainly because the other members have a lot of it covered already
but it’s pretty common for him to give her a piggyback ride somewhere
if her back is cramping a lot and she doesn’t/can’t walk
no complaints
he just kneels down and aria asks him is he sure
like she’s heavy or something
and he’ll just carry her to wherever they’re going
there’s a lot of fantaken pictures from these moments
people speculate that she’s injured or sick
it happens so regularly that nctzens are genuinely convinced that aria just doesn’t possess an immune system
Jungwoo
jungwoo was surprisingly well prepared when aria first bent over from a sudden onset of cramps
man was ready and knew what to do
he had hyuck going out of the room for water
and had a hand placed on her lower back rubbing gently
never really makes a big deal out of it all
although has told her to play it up once or twice because he wanted to go to bed and practice was running late
she did, and they did end practice almost immediately after
honestly, aria’s pretty convinced that all of jungwoo’s information on how to deal with girls on their periods came from a wikihow article
but that did mean that he had taken the time to look up a wikihow article
so she guesses she can forgive him
and honestly, the fact that he takes it upon himself to do a little of her chores?
she’s not complaining
after the first three times she felt bad enough to tell him to stop though
he didn’t
and now it’s just normal
is very conversational about it all
has no problem with asking her what she needs, instead of hovering around and guessing
which makes it easier on aria as well
the first few times, she felt quite burdensome
and jungwoo levelled her with a look when she told him this
“the only way you’d be burdensome, is if you didn’t talk to the rest of us and suffered silently - in pain.”
that was the end of that really
Mark
unfortunately for mark
aria got her first period when she was with him
poor boy thought she was going to die
“ohmygod you’re bleeding - you’re BLEEDING-”
aria had to calm him down before going to the bathroom
he is pretty oblivious as to what exactly goes on
aria complained once that she missed her last two periods because of the stupid diet she was on
mark literally thought she was going to die
very concerned
she had to sit him down and tell him that no, she wasn’t going to die
he’s gotten better over the years
as a topic, he’s still pretty uncomfortable with discussing it
but its less of a “i’m a man and this isn’t a manly topic” and more of a “i don’t know anything about this subject and i don’t want to offend somebody, help”
he did by her her first hot water bottle cover though
up until then, she had been using hot water bottles wrapped in towels to prevent her skin from burning
but mark showed up one morning
with a yellow fuzzy thing hidden behind her back
it was a winnie the pooh cover :(
Donghyuck
cuddle buddies
that’s his main role
aria on her period? donghyuck’s pulling out the fluffy blankets and making a pile of her plushies on his bed
time to pull out netflix and cuddle
aria could cry every single time she walks into his room and he’s just opening the covers for her to slip underneath
he does it every time
and somehow she’s still not expecting it
it’s been five years bestie
has accidentally made her cry on more than once occasion though
he doesn’t mean to!
sometimes he’ll say something in passing
and aria will get upset but won’t show it
because she knows she’s not actually upset - it’s just hormones
so she doesn’t tell him she’s upset
and just leaves to go to her own room
does that stop doyoung telling hyuck off for being insensitive?
no
not at all
but he’s normally really good! especially after the first few times
living together has generally made him more preceptive
also just growing up in general
if her cramps are really bad she’ll wake up during the night
and if she had slept in hyuck’s bed the night before
then he usually takes it upon himself to go get her pain meds and a hot water bottle
he’ll rub her back and help her fall back asleep
and then he’ll make sure to write down in his phone that she took x brand of pain meds, so in the morning she’ll have to take y instead
#*aria.writings#nct 24th member#nct#nct dream#nct imagines#kpop addition#nct extra member#nct female member#nct female member au#superm#kpop additions#kpop!oc#kpop#nct female oc#nct additional member#nct additions#nct addition#this is reposted bc tumblr hates me#there was a rant about the patriarchy in the notes before#but a re-typed rant doesn't hit the same#*sigh*
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