#AND TURNS YOU INTO A MACHINE OR A WEAPON | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chuluoyi · 11 months ago

Text

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bones of his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me! Eeek!!”

6K notes · View notes

hemipenal-system · 4 months ago

Text

working on a farm and going to a secondhand equipment auction to try to find a part you need replaced on one of your machines, and some guy has a combat drone all folded up in the back of his truck

it's powered off, of course. the guy says he doesn't even know how to fix it, says it just crashed in his backyard during the war, what, 40-odd years ago? and he just threw it in storage and hasn't touched it since, and his wife says he has to get rid of it, so he'll sell it for cheap if you're interested.

you figure, what the hell, you need a side project, and it might be interesting to refurbish it or whatever, so you buy it, lugging the heavy fucker into your own vehicle

you throw it up on a hoist and manage to power it on, half scared it'll try to kill you, but it just hangs there, limp except for its head turning to create a 3d model of your face to recognize you by. it looks almost... human, in a way. its head is a mess of sensors where its face should be, all wired down to its torso where it keeps its processor, and the stabilizers on its feet that prevent recoil from a heavy weapon knocking it over resemble claws, but it otherwise resembles a tall, lanky human to an eerie degree. it doesn't speak. you figure something in it must be busted. it doesn't move at all as you take it off the hoist and lay it down on the ground.

you leave it in the barn when you go to bed. it'd be preposterous for a machine to sleep in the house, even if it is a moderately human-shaped one. it'll be fine out there.

when you come back the next morning, you're surprised to see it curled up, not sleeping but emulating it, in a pile of hay it must have brought down from the loft. strange, since it shouldn't have any necessity for more comfort than the cold concrete floor would provide. it powers on when you approach, turning to look at you but otherwise not moving.

it doesn't talk for a week.

when it does, it's one word. you have it open on a workbench, arm buried deep in its mechanical guts. its speakers crackle to life just for the one word and then shut off again, startling you enough that you jump and then swear as your hand slams into the metal frame, cutting a knuckle open - then you process what it just said.

it was a name.

you ask if she wants to sleep in the house after that. she doesn't answer, but follows obediently like a trained dog, up the stairs and into your bedroom, mimicking your motions as you lay down in bed and she lays down next to you. you flick the light off, worried about the non-zero possibility that you've fucked up and her programming will reset when she wakes up and immediately target you as a threat. then you fall asleep.

you wake up with the combat drone pressed into you, cool metal arms wrapped around your torso, sensor array pressed into your shoulder. she doesn't snore, but her cooling system whirs quietly and you realize your body is warming her own.

you don't know what makes you kiss her forehead. you just sort of do it. but she makes a cute humming noise so maybe it was an okay thing to do.

#sorry for the long post y'all #robot girl #microfiction #i guess

2K notes · View notes

bcksbarnes · 1 month ago

Text

between a dream

pairing: tws!bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky barnes has just found out his entire life has been a lie. that his life as the winter solider has been nothing but mind control. instead of running off after his fight with steve, he returns to the avengers tower where he trusts no one. everyone takes turn on watch, and this time it's yours.

word count: 2.2K

read the: next chapter

a/n: based this on request from anonymous!

the winter solider was not a man. he was not capable of forming his own thoughts or having feelings. he was a killing machine that was able to be turned on and off at any moment, bringing only death and destruction wherever he went. that was until he heard one word, one name. bucky. that moment altered something in his brain, a voice in the back of his head coming to life. it sounded like his own. the winter solider was not sure he had ever heard his own voice in his head before.

he had learned very quickly, and against his will, that he was once a man named james ‘bucky’ barnes. that he used to be a solider from a different time. that he had a life that was taken away from him. that he has been used as a weapon. and that he should be dead.

the man he had once thought was his target, steve rogers, was actually his friend in the life he no longer knew. the one he couldn’t remember.

and now as he sat in this tower over looking the city skyline, all he could think about was that there was no one to be trusted. sure, maybe steve, but he wasn’t even in the right frame of mind to distinguish if this was still some trap – some lie.

“he’s been sitting like that for two days.” sam says as you and steve approach. everyone has been taking turns keeping watch of him since he and steve returned from their fight near the river. first nat, then sam, now it would be your turn. “he hasn’t eaten or slept.”

“i don’t blame him.” you mumble as your arms cross over your chest, watching the back of bucky’s head. “he just found out his entire life has been a lie. he’s been used a killing machine for the last 70 years.” you try to keep your voice low so that he can’t hear you, but you watch as he tilts his head back and forth a bit, the memories filling his mind.

“let me go introduce you.” steve’s voice is soft, as he places a hand on your elbow guiding you over to where bucky was sitting. once you approach his chair, you take a step back keeping your distance while steve goes to speak to him.

“hey, buck.” he says, bucky wincing a bit at the name, obviously not used to it yet. “sam’s going to be heading out of here in a few minutes. i wanted to introduce you to another team member.”

bucky’s head turns to the side to look at steve, his eyes raking over the man. you can tell he’s trying to figure out if steve in that moment is a threat to him, his body rigid as he asses. you can’t imagine the amount of stress he’s under, how his brain must be on fire with trying to discern between realities.

he soon looks over at you, his stare is hard as the two of you make eye contact. you’re not scared of him, and you know you could disarm him in a moment despite the difference in size between the two of you, but there’s something in his gaze that feels so disconnected from the world – from emotion. steve introduces you, saying your name a few times as he gives bucky the same rundown as he had with both natasha and sam, trying to reiterate that they were here to help – not hurt.

bucky doesn’t respond, he didn’t the first two times either, his gaze moves back over to steve and he continues to frown, wanting to be done with this conversation, wishing the screaming in his head would stop.

once steve wraps up his rundown he looks over at you, giving a firm nod before he walks out of the room, beginning your time on the clock to keep watch of this man, while they figure out how best to move forward.

nothing really happens for the first few hours, bucky shifts slightly in his chair a few times, you lead him to the bathroom once or twice, and your phone buzzes with some texts from steve checking in, but overall nothing worth noting.

you can see the dark circles under bucky’s eyes as you sit a few seats away from him. you feel bad for him to some extent. he had done bad things, sure, but you couldn’t imagine the pain he was going through. the sun begins to set and you hear a loud sigh leave his lips, it makes you wonder what’s going on in his head.

he hasn’t eaten.

sam’s voice rings through your head and you realize it’s probably best to get bucky some food.

“hey.” you say, getting his attention, his head slowly rolling to the side to look at you. “what do you want to eat?”

bucky’s eyes graze over you for a moment, you can see him making a mental note that you are a threat to him and that no one right now is safe. he makes no attempts to respond before he rolls his head back to continue staring into space.

“o...kay.” you mumble to yourself, taking out your phone and making a few arrangements to have food sent up for him.

it doesn’t take long for someone to arrive, pushing a cart filled with food, you jump off your chair to thank them before grabbing the plate and moving it over to a table where bucky could sit.

you don’t realize he’s watching you until you turn back around, your head nodding over to the table and he stands. he’s much taller than you had anticipated, your eyes taking in the size of him as his metal arm shines brightly even with the dim lights in the tower. he sits down and waits for you to sit across from him.

“i guess they sent over ...” you eye his plate for a moment. “salmon.” the face you make after the word is one of pure disgust – a food you hated with every fiber of your being, you didn’t envy that he had to eat it.

but, he makes no attempts to reach for his fork or knife, his hands curled into fists as they rest at the table, his eyes watching you intently.

“do you not like salmon?” you ask, trying to coax even an answer out of him, but he doesn’t budge. it takes you a moment before you put two and two together – the most obvious reason of all as to why he’s not eating. “steve wouldn’t poison you.”

he grunts in response, his fists tightening a bit as his eyes move down to the food then back up at you. it’s hard to understand what could possibly be going through his mind, what horrors he’s had to endure and the false reality that he was placed into for all those years.

“steve wouldn’t poison you, bucky.” you say again, trying to reiterate the point as much as you possibly could, your words holding so much weight to anyone but it falls flat with him.

“i don’t know steve.” his words send a chill through your spine, his voice is deep and hallow, lacking any emotion, but, to be fair, he’s not wrong. “i don’t know you.”

“fine. i’ll prove it to you then.” your words come out faster than your brain has a chance to stop you. standing up from your seat, your chair pushing back as you do so, you lean across and grab his fork, hands shaking slightly as you grab a piece of the salmon.

you regret doing it almost immediately, you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as he watches you bring the fork to your mouth. it’s fishy and pink and the bile is rising in your throat just at the smell of it, but you know you have to do this. to earn some sort of trust. if steve was here, he’d do anything to prove to bucky, so you had to show him you were just as capable of proving this as well.

taking the bite your body wants to reject it almost immediately as you chew, but you manage to get it down, taking a long sip of your water once it’s been swallowed to try and get the taste out of your mouth. horrible. terrible. disgusting. if he didn’t eat the salmon now, then you’d definitely kill him.

a beat of silence passes between the two of you as stare at each other. bucky moves his hand, grabbing his fork back from you and moving to take a bite of the food, having an easier time choking it down than you do.

there it was. something. maybe not trust yet, maybe just a spark of the idea.

you sit down across from him again, shaking your head as you try not to imagine eating anymore of the food, the idea of it sending a shiver down your spine as you continue to watch silently.

“thanks.” he manages to say between bites, his eyes on the food in front of him.

“yeah, don’t mention it.” you quip back, your voice flat before letting out a dry cough.

it’s once he’s finished with his food that he pushes his body back against the chair, sinking into it slightly, his flesh and metal hand grip the arms tightly. the tension in the room is palpable at this point and you know bucky can feel it too.

“how long have you known steve?” his voice is gruff as it comes out, and you’re surprised he’s willing to talk to you, let alone ask questions.

“two years.” you respond. “since they found him in the ice.” you remember that day vividly, watching as they brought him in for evaluation, making their plans to slowly acclimate him to the real world, which in true steve rogers fashion did not work. you had been assigned to his team ever since. “i was one of his first recruits on the team. sam was next, nat is just a friend.”

bucky nods at that, his long hair falling in front of his face as he takes in your words.

“has he always been ...” he looks over in the direction of the door that steve had walked out of hours ago. “like that?”

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head a bit at his question – you knew exactly what he was talking about. steve, while he had everyone’s best interest in mind, was a bit overbearing, always over explaining everything and a bit ... self absorbed. it was the hero complex.

“yes.” you nod, a small smirk on your face as your gaze catches bucky’s again. his eyes are tired, not as guarded as they were a few minutes ago – softer. “he means well, but he can be a little ...” you trail off, but bucky nods his head understanding where that was going.

bucky lets out a long sigh, his eyes closing for a moment as you can see his hands gripping the chair tighter, the knuckles on his flesh hand white.

“i hate that he looks at me like that.” he admits through gritted teeth. “like i’m supposed to just remember everything that happened. there’s ... bits and pieces, but i don’t know him. i barely remember myself. he doesn’t understand.”

“he doesn’t expect you to remember anything.” you add in after a few long moments of silence. “it might feel like he does, but he doesn’t. he’s just excited to have his friend back.” your eyes trail over his face. “a version of his friend.”

bucky’s grip loosens on the chair, a deep breath leaving his nostrils as he moves to stand from the table. you watch as he makes his way back to where he was sitting before, his head lolling back onto the chair as he stares up at the ceiling.

and he stays like that for the remainder of the night. his shoulders aren’t as tense as when you had first arrived, he turns to look at you when you ask him a question and he even manages to gruff out an answer.

by the time morning comes, steve is there bright and early, ready to release you of your duties as it was now his turn to keep watch over bucky.

“hey.” he says, startling you a bit as you and bucky both turn to look at him. “how’d it go?”

“good.” you nod, standing up and straightening your posture. “he ate late last night, he’s feeling a bit ... overwhelmed.” you keep your voice low so bucky couldn’t hear you. “give him some space. don’t ask so many questions.”

you felt suddenly protective over bucky, the need to make sure he felt comfortable as he navigated his way through this new beginning was blooming in your chest. and as you turn around to see him one last time, you swear you seem some sadness in his eyes. you pat steve on the shoulder as you walk past him, finally being relieved of your time. though you’d never admit out loud you’d be counting down the hours until it was your turn on watch bucky again.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #mine #one shot #100 #200 #500 #1K #1.5K

2K notes · View notes

moonlight-joy · 5 days ago

Text

The BAU’s Secret Weapon

MASTERLIST

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Summary: No one at the BAU knew you were an expert in hand-to-hand combat—until you save Spencer from an unsub in the field.

Pairing: Reader/Spencer Reid

The BAU was a well-oiled machine, a team built on trust, intelligence, and skill. Everyone had their strengths—Morgan had his strength and tactical expertise, Emily had her experience in undercover work, JJ had her natural empathy, Garcia had her tech skills, Rossi had his wisdom, and Hotch… well, he was Hotch.

And then there was you.

You weren’t the fastest, the strongest, or the most experienced. You weren’t a profiler like Spencer or a former cop like Morgan. If anything, most of the team saw you as the quiet one, always diligent, always dependable, but never the one kicking down doors.

And that was fine with you.

You had spent years training in silence, perfecting skills you never really had the opportunity—or desire—to showcase. There was no reason to. Your job didn’t require it. Until, of course, everything went to hell.

The team had been tracking a particularly brutal unsub, one who had already left three victims in his wake. Young women, all taken in broad daylight, all showing signs of restraint and violent struggle before they were ultimately left to die.

The BAU had narrowed the suspect list down to one man: Kyle Turner. Mid-40s, former military, dishonorably discharged, and exceptionally dangerous.

That was how you found yourself in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town, the air thick with dust and the scent of rusting metal.

Spencer had gone in first. It was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance mission, but the second he stepped inside, his comms cut out.

And then, all hell broke loose.

“Where the hell is Reid?” Morgan growled, scanning the area with his gun raised.

Static buzzed in everyone’s earpieces before Garcia’s panicked voice came through. “Guys! Reid’s comm just went dead! I lost his location!”

Your stomach dropped.

“I’m going in,” you said immediately, already moving.

Morgan grabbed your arm. “No way. We don’t know what’s in there—”

“I don’t care,” you snapped, shaking him off. “Spencer’s in trouble.”

You barely heard Hotch giving orders as you darted forward, your gun steady as you entered the warehouse. The dim lighting and eerie silence made your skin crawl.

Then you heard it—a struggle.

A grunt of pain. Spencer.

You ran.

The sight made rage burn through you like wildfire.

Spencer was pinned against the wall, his gun knocked to the ground as Kyle Turner—a man twice his size—wrapped a thick arm around his throat. Spencer clawed at the man’s grip, struggling for air, his face already red.

Turner was going to kill him.

Your gun was still raised, but you knew you couldn’t risk taking the shot—not with Spencer in the line of fire.

So, you did the only thing you could.

You attacked.

In three swift strides, you closed the distance, grabbing Turner’s wrist and twisting it hard. He barely had time to react before you drove your elbow into his ribs and swept his legs out from under him in one fluid motion.

Turner hit the ground hard, releasing Spencer as he gasped for breath.

But you weren’t done.

The unsub lunged for his knife, but you were faster. You pivoted, blocking his arm before delivering a sharp, brutal strike to his throat. He choked, eyes wide with shock, just before you drove your knee into his stomach and knocked him completely unconscious.

Silence.

Heavy breathing.

Then—

“What the actual hell?”

You turned to see Spencer, still leaning against the wall, staring at you like he had never seen you before in his life.

“…Are you okay?” you asked, breathless.

Spencer blinked. “I—yeah—I mean, yes. But what was that?!”

Before you could answer, the rest of the team burst into the warehouse.

Morgan had his gun raised, eyes scanning for threats, while Hotch, JJ, and Emily moved in behind him.

And then they all saw you.

Standing over an unconscious suspect.

And Spencer—who looked like he had just watched a Marvel fight scene in real life.

“What the hell happened?” Hotch demanded, taking in the scene.

Morgan looked at Turner, out cold on the floor. “Did you do this?”

You hesitated. “Um… yes?”

Silence.

Then—

“Since when can you do that?!” Emily exclaimed, stepping forward.

You shifted uncomfortably. “It’s… not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?!” Morgan repeated, pointing at the very unconscious unsub. “Pretty sure this dude would say otherwise.”

Spencer, still looking dazed, gestured toward you. “She just—she—she literally took him down in seconds. I was about to black out, and then she came in like some kind of—ninja.”

You winced. “I’m not a ninja.”

“You might as well be!”

Hotch, ever the professional, folded his arms. “How long have you been trained in hand-to-hand combat?”

You exhaled. “…A while.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes. “How long, exactly?”

You shrugged. “Since I was… fifteen?”

Everyone blinked.

“FIFTEEN?” Garcia’s voice shrieked through the comms.

You winced again. “I, uh… kind of grew up around people who taught me. I kept training over the years. It’s just… never come up.”

Morgan ran a hand down his face. “Oh my God, we’ve been bringing you on cases this whole time and didn’t know you were a secret weapon?”

Spencer was still staring at you, completely in awe.

You felt self-conscious under all their gazes. “I—I don’t like showing off. I just wanted to help.”

Hotch studied you for a long moment before nodding. “You did good,” he said simply.

That alone made the tension leave your shoulders.

But Morgan? Morgan was never letting this go.

“Oh, trust me, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head with a smirk. “You are never living this down.”

You groaned.

And Spencer?

He just smiled at you, something soft and completely enamored in his expression.

Yeah, this case definitely changed things.

Back at the BAU, you were the talk of the team.

Morgan had officially nicknamed you "BAU’s Secret Weapon." Emily kept reenacting your takedown move in the bullpen. Rossi, to your horror, started placing bets on how fast you could take someone down in training.

Spencer, on the other hand, was still looking at you like you had personally rewritten the laws of physics.

“You okay?” you asked him later, nudging his arm.

Spencer blinked. “I think I’m in love with you.”

You choked on your coffee. “I—what?”

Spencer immediately went red. “I—I mean—not that I wasn’t before! But now I’m just—wow.”

You bit your lip to hide a grin. “So… me knowing how to fight is attractive?”

Spencer pushed his hair back, still flustered. “I mean… yes? Statistically speaking, a partner who is both intelligent and physically capable is—”

You cut him off with a kiss on the cheek. “Good to know.”

Spencer blinked, stunned into silence.

Morgan whistled from across the bullpen. “Damn, Reid, you’re having a great day, huh?”

Spencer just smiled, his hand slipping into yours under the desk.

Yeah.

It was a very good day.

Please support my work with like and comment

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds x reader

863 notes · View notes

chaoticwriting · 2 months ago

Text

GOTHAM'S NEW ROGUE 4

Part 3

Danny looks at the guy skeptically. Last time someone approached him, they were Red Robin, Spoiler and Signal. This time, a dude that looks like an average office worker approaches him.

Trickster: Sure, why not?

???: Thank you.

Trickster: So, what do you want with me?

???: Let me introduce myself first. I am Clark Kent. A journalist from the Daily Planet. I would like to ask, is it true that you know Batman's secret identity?

Trickster: You mean those pictures I stole from his wallet? Yeah sure. Why do you wanna know?

Clark: As you know, I am a journalist. And it is our job to find out about news and share it with the general public. I am just thinking, what would you like to exchange for the real identity of Batman.

Trickster: Hmmm..... What price huh? Let me think for a moment.

Danny then continues to eat his food as he pretends to think about Clark's offer. Honestly, he doesn't give a damn about this Clark guy. He is also a vigilante once, so he knows the importance of their secret identities. While slurping away his last coke, Danny gains a very good idea (He thinks it is a good idea).

Trickster: Well, I don't think I would sell the pictures just yet since the card is still useful and I don't need money. However, I have a very interesting topic you can investigate.

Clark: Oh? What is it?

Trickster: Try searching for something called GIW. It is a government branch and I'm sure it will be a hit piece.

Clark: GIW? What is that?

Trickster: Well that's for you to figure out. Oh well. I'm pretty full now. Gotta go now. See you never.

Danny then disappears right in front of Clark before he can do anything. Clark can't even hear or see the kid anymore with his enhanced sense and x-ray vision further cementing that the kid probably has teleportation power.

Danny meanwhile is laying on his makeshift bed while watching the stars after he uses his power to clear the sky thinking what he just did is very smart. Unfortunately, he doesn't know this decision is as good as the previous time he thinks his idea is good.

-1 month later-

Danny is picking up scraps from the junkyard for his next prank. Collecting some toasters, some blenders and even some radios. Danny has spent a lot of time these past few months, tinkering with machines that he practically knows what component is in which appliances.

Suddenly, he sees a very familiar device among the junk. A sleek silver gun with a few green buttons on it. It doesn't have the usual designs that Danny used to see but Danny knows without a doubt in his mind that it is an ecto gun.

The problem is that, the gun is new. Very new. Like it is just created. And that means one thing. A GIW agent is here. Shit! Danny needs to run. But where? He has checked before this but the only place with enough ectoplasm to hide him is either Gotham or Amity Park. No where else in the world has as much ambience ectoplasm to hide him from the ecto detector.

But now that they are in Gotham, he might as well not hide since at such close proximity, the ambient ectoplasm can only hide him if they are not close. Danny is thinking very hard when his ears pick up something. A group of people is coming his way, and from the way they are all carrying heavy devices, they are probably GIW agents.

Danny against his better judgement turns invisible and flies high enough so that if the agents decide to shoot him, he will have time to dodge them. Danny watches quietly as the ecto detector bips faster and faster the more they go to where he is previously.

???: Damn it. I thought this is where Trickster is. But it's just the gun that you lost.

???: Hey, at least we don't need to file reports of missing weapons right? Also, didn't that thing already get set up by the Fentons to find Trickster?

???: It's probably them messing it up. It's not like them messing shit up is something new anyway.

???: Yeah. Let's just say it is a false alarm. I hear the higher ups are thinking of lowering our budgets next year if we don't produce any results soon.

???: Ugghh, don't remind me of that. Not only do they pressure us like that. I even heard that there is some guy that has been snooping around our base, taking pictures and stuff.

???: I hate those reporters. We are trying to do our job and save them from those savages, and yet here they are messing with us. Calling us genocidal maniacs and the second coming of Nazis.

???: If that is not bad enough, they even say that they feel like we should treat the ghost as if they are people. Ghosts are not people! They are merely beast pretending to be someone we used to know and love.

???: I would love to just punch those reporters to the face if not for the fact that Boss ordered us to stay put.

Suddenly their walky talky start to beep.

Walkie-talkie: Agent P, Agent Q. Return to the base of operation immediately. We are receiving visits from the higher ups.

Both of the agents reply with Roger and hurriedly run towards their van and drive off somewhere. Danny looks at them and decides, he has found what his next prank is going to be.

Part 5

#danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #batfam #dc x dp

1K notes · View notes

charlesoberonn · 2 years ago

Text

Phineas and Ferb episode idea: After Candace shows her photos of all of her brothers’ creations, Linda thinks that her daughter is a talented graphic artist and signs her up for a competition. Candace is frustrated and about to tell her mom the truth but then Jeremy shows up and he’s like “Wow, Candace, I didn’t know you were a graphic designer. That’s so cool. Btw, my little sister is also gonna be at the graphic design competition.”

Long story short, Candace asks her brothers to help her become a graphic artist for real so she could beat Suzie.

Meanwhile, Doofenshmirtz has gotten tired of designing -Inators so he designed the Comes-Up-With-Inators-Inator to design them for him. The Inator’s creation are a hit among other Evil Scientists who buy them in droves. Doofenshmirtz is then signed by Vanessa to an Evil Contracption Designing competition (held in the same building at the same time as the graphic design competition, of course).

Desperate, he asks Perry the Platypus to help him get his mojo back so he could design -Inators again.

Cue musical montage of Doof and Candace training to learn/relearn their respective art form.

It’s the competition(s). Candace is a nervous wreck, but Jeremy believes in her. Doof is all self-assured and ego-boosted by everyone thinking he’ll win, but then he sees his Comes-Up-With-Inators-Inator (who looks like a robotic him) also signed up for the competition.

While getting ready for the competition, Perry is accidentally almost spotted by Phineas and Ferb. He sneaks behind the curtain to the behind the scenes. That’s when he discovers that the goal of the competition is to design a doomsday weapon. Nervous, he swaps the cards with those of the graphic design competition.

The competition begins. The graphic artists are assigned to design a doomsday weapon while the Evil Scientists are assigned to design a cool band poster.

The scientists are baffled, but they do their best. The Comes-Up-With-Inators-Inator is stuck because it’s physically incapable of drawing anything but Inators.

Meanwhile in the graphic design competition Candace does her best but her brain goes blank. Suzie meanwhile is trying to sabotage her by switching her card back with the card from the other tournament. Unfortunately it’s the card of the Comes-Up-With-Inators-Inator, who now goes to task designing a Doomsday weapon.

The competition is finished. Candace’s work is mediocre, but she wins by technicality for being the only one who drew the correct thing.

Meanwhile at the Evil Scientists competition, the scientists all drew terrible posters except Doof whose poster is beautiful. He’s about to be declared the winner but then the Comes-Up-With-Inators-Inator reveals what it’s been working on, a doomsday machine. Everyone panics, and Perry the Platypus tries to stop the machine, but fails. Then the machine ticks down to 0, and nothing happens.

Turns out the Comes-Up-With-Inators-Inator is terrible at coming up with machines. All of its Inators don’t work. Which unfortunately for Doof results in all of his previously happy customers showing up to complain because their Inators didn’t work either. He asks Perry to help him again, but Perry is already gone.

“There you are, Perry.” “Curse you, Perry the Platypus!”

Despite winning, Candace feels hollow because she only won by technicality and all of the other designers were much better than her. She feels like a fraud. But then Jeremy shows up and asks to buy the rights for her poster, because he thinks it’s really cool. Candace is happy.

The End.

#phineas and ferb #charles writes

17K notes · View notes

rin-may-1103 · 6 months ago

Text

College Rivalry with the Genius Toddler in the First Row.

My take on this prompt Requested by @purplereaderfans

Danny looked up from his paper, a bright green crayon clutched in his small hand. Jazz patted his head with a quick smile, pushing her chair in so she could start making her way to the teacher, something about the wrong definition if Danny had heard what she'd been muttering correctly.

grumbling, Danny shook his head in an attempt to fix his hair. he hated how everyone was treating him like a child, he was sixteen, almost seventeen for Ancient's sake!

sure, he looked like he was three, but was this really necessary? head pats, baby talk, dumbed-down explanations; it's like they don't notice that he's still mentally a teenager. Like, seriously?

Mom and Dad had been the ones who created the damn device, they should know how to fix this, but did they? no, because; "Aww, Jack, look at him! Isn't our baby boy just the cutest!" and "Why yes, dear, we should get more pictures! It's not like every day a parent gets to witness their kid's toddler years again!"

danny hated it, even Vlad was treating him like a baby! Danny never wanted to hear the man try and speak to him like that again. it might actually be his new nightmare fuel, you know if he wasn't still using what happened with Dan and Pariah to fuel his consistent nightmares, that is.

Danny was ready to start blasting people's knees the next time someone so much as even hinted at dressing him up again. thankfully, for everyone's safety, Jazz noticed he was still mentally normal. She volunteered to take care of him while their parents worked on a way to reverse what their new ghost machine caused. (though he doubted it would be anytime soon, considering the GIW was acting up again.)

which, by the way, apparently wasn't supposed to have de-aged him, but in fact, just you know, 'barrow' his naturally made ectoplasm and knock him out for a few minutes. Ancients, his parents were insane.

he should have known they were going to do something stupid, but no; he had started slacking after revealing his phantom form and getting accepted by them. Because, again, why would he need to keep an eye on them and what they make when they promised to never try and hurt him and his normal rogues again?

they're adults, they should know how to handle themselves. but no.

oh, ho ho, was that such a big oversight on his part. they were Fenton's, of course, he should have kept an eye on them.

no longer making ecto weapons, his parents wanted to learn how to help peacefully capture raging ghosts and how to help heal the injured ones (mostly how to help Danny when he gets hurt). Noble, right?

right?

Wrong. somehow, they managed to create a de-aging device when they were trying to come up with a way to knock out an angry ghost without hurting them. How? Just how?? and what do they do without even testing to see if it would even work? use it on him. because, oh, danny's half ghost, and it's only supposed to make him tired right now, not knock him out. it should be fine.

and now he's a toddler.

a three-year-old toddler.

"psst!" someone hissed, dragging danny's attention away from his crumbled crayon. blinking, Danny dropped the crayon on the table and grumbled. this was the seventh crayon this morning, he really needed to get his strength under control before someone noticed.

"psst, hey kid!" they hissed again, making Danny sigh. turning his head, Danny glared at the weird dude who kept trying to talk to him. The dude usually talked to him like he was an adult, which Danny appreciated, if it wasn't for the fact the dude was hellbent on figuring out danny's secrets.

all because Danny scored more than him on a dumb test.

"What?" Danny grumbled, wiping the crayon crumbs off his hands and onto his pants. the dude, Danny thinks his name is Tam or something, frowned at Danny, watching him wipe the last of the obliterated crayon away.

"aliens," he hisses, leaning forward so he could stare more intently into Danny's eyes. "that has to be it, you and your sister are aliens. probably from some planet that's more advanced than ours."

danny blinked, studied the dude for a second, and blinked again.

"no," turning back, Danny grabbed another crayon and started filling out the worksheet in front of him, making sure to use as little of his super strength as possible.

the dude groaned and slammed his head onto his desk, the sound echoing out and around the silent room like a gunshot. Jazz snorted, pulling out her chair and sitting down. "that one has got to be one of the worst theories yet," she chuckled, turning her body to face the dude.

"you seriously can't believe my brother and I are aliens just because we got higher test scores, Tim." Jazz explained, casually leaning sideways in her seat so she could see him.

the dude, Tim, just groaned, slamming his head back into the desk, his voice muffled, "I wouldn't have a problem with it if it was just you," Tim lifted his head, glaring at him as Danny continued to carefully fill out his worksheet. "I can accept the fact that I'm not the smartest person in the room, I don't like it, but I can do it. I even respect it, having this much knowledge takes a lot of work and dedication, but him?"

"He's three, Jazz. he should be just starting to figure out the names of colors, and noticing differences between things. not astrophysics-level math questions from an April Fools gag test that our Psychology teacher jokingly gave us." Tim's eyes somehow got even narrower as he continued his rant. Danny valiantly tried to keep himself from laughing; Jazz said it was rude to laugh at people, especially if they weren't mentally all there, so he couldn't laugh.

but by the ancients was Tim making it hard.

with a fianl dash, danny smiled triumphantly. Setting the crayon down, he gave the paper a quick once over before deciding he was finally done filling it out.

now, for the moment he was waiting for; turning in his seat, Danny excitedly held up his paper, "Look jazz! I did it!" he had finally managed to complete the paper without ripping the page! and he'd only broken seven crayons! it was progress! there was hope! but Tim didn't need to know that, no, he needed to think Danny was excited about completing the paper.

Jazz, who was just as much of a gremlin as Danny, smiled as she patted his head, "Good job Danny! I'm so proud of you! why don't you go turn it in, I'm sure Mr. Kronmatil would love to see it."

smiling, Danny turned, climbed out of his seat, and started to make his way over to the teacher.

Tim grumbled in annoyance, his crazed theories and curses filling Danny's ears like the sweet sweet sound of music. if there was one good thing that came out of this whole fiasco, it was that Danny was able to work on his studies and cause as much chaos as possible while doing so.

being treated like a baby was all worth it when Danny turned and spotted the same confused and crazed look Tim had been giving him all week. yes, being de-aged wasn't fun, and he didn't appreciate being partially interrogated every time he entered the same room as Tim, but man it was so worth it when he knew he was driving one of the Gotham bat's nuts.

all because he scored higher than him on a test.

He couldn't wait to see Tim's face once the scores were announced tomorrow. He was so going to tell Lady Gotham all about it later.

2K notes · View notes

romerona · 1 month ago

Text

Ethera Operation!!

You're the government’s best hacker, but that doesn’t mean you were prepared to be thrown into a fighter jet.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Awkward!Hacker! FemReader

Part I

This was never supposed to happen. Your role in this operation was simple—deliver the program, ensure it reached the right hands, and let the professionals handle the breaching.

And then, of course, reality decided to light that plan on fire.

The program—codenamed Ethera—was yours. You built it from scratch with encryption so advanced that even the most elite cyber operatives couldn’t crack it without your input. A next-generation adaptive, self-learning decryption software, an intrusion system designed to override and manipulate high-security military networks, Ethera was intended to be both a weapon and a shield, capable of infiltrating enemy systems while protecting your own from counterattacks in real-time. A ghost in the machine. A digital predator. A weapon in the form of pure code. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could disable fleets, and ground aircraft, and turn classified intelligence into an open book. Governments would kill for it. Nations could fall because of it.

Not that you ever meant to, of course. It started as a little experimental security measure program, something to protect high-level data from cyberattacks, not become the ultimate hacking tool. But innovation has a funny way of attracting the wrong kind of attention, and before you knew it, Ethera had become one, if not the most classified, high-risk program in modern times. Tier One asset or so the Secret Service called it.

It was too powerful, too dangerous—so secret that only a select few even knew of its existence, and even fewer could comprehend how it worked.

And therein lay the problem. You were the only person who could properly operate it.

Which was so unfair.

Because it wasn’t supposed to be your problem. You were just the creator, the brain behind the code, the one who spent way too many sleepless nights debugging this monstrosity. Your job was supposed to end at development. But no. Now, because of some bureaucratic nonsense and the fact that no one else could run it without accidentally bricking an entire system, you had been promoted—scratch that, forcibly conscripted—into field duty.

And your mission? To install it in an enemy satellite.

A literal, orbiting, high-security, military-grade satellite, may you add.

God. Why? Why was your country always at war with others? Why couldn’t world leaders just, you know, go to therapy like normal people? Why did everything have to escalate to international cyber warfare?

Which is how you ended up here.

At Top Gun. The last place in the world you wanted to be.

You weren’t built for this. You thrive in sipping coffee in a cosy little office and handling cyber threats from a safe, grounded location. You weren’t meant to be standing in the halls of an elite fighter pilot training program, surrounded by the best aviators in the world—people who thought breaking the sound barrier was a casual Wednesday.

It wasn’t the high-tech cyberwarfare department of the Pentagon, nor some dimly lit black ops facility where hackers in hoodies clacked away at keyboards. No. It was Top Gun. A place where pilots use G-forces like a personal amusement park ride.

You weren’t a soldier, you weren’t a spy, you got queasy in elevators, you got dizzy when you stood too fast, hell, you weren’t even good at keeping your phone screen from cracking.

... And now you were sweating.

You swallowed hard as Admiral Solomon "Warlock" Bates led you through the halls of the naval base, your heels clacking on the polished floors as you wiped your forehead. You're nervous, too damn nervous and this damned weather did not help.

"Relax, Miss," Warlock muttered in that calm, authoritative way of his. "They're just pilots."

Just pilots.

Right. And a nuclear warhead was just a firework.

And now, somehow, you were supposed to explain—loosely explain, because God help you, the full details were above even their clearance level—how Ethera, your elegant, lethal, unstoppable digital masterpiece, was about to be injected into an enemy satellite as part of a classified mission.

This was going to be a disaster.

You had barely made it through the doors of the briefing room when you felt it—every single eye in the room locking onto you.

It wasn’t just the number of them that got you, it was the intensity. These were Top Gun pilots, the best of the best, and they radiated the kind of confidence you could only dream of having. Meanwhile, you felt like a stray kitten wandering into a lion’s den.

Your hands tightened around the tablet clutched to your chest. It was your lifeline, holding every critical detail of Ethera, the program that had dragged you into this utterly ridiculous situation. If you could’ve melted into the walls, you absolutely would have. But there was no escaping this.

You just had to keep it together long enough to survive this briefing.

So, you inhaled deeply, squared your shoulders, and forced your heels forward, trying to project confidence—chin up, back straight, eyes locked onto Vice Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, who you’d been introduced to earlier that day.

And then, of course, you dropped the damn tablet.

Not a graceful drop. Not the kind of gentle slip where you could scoop it back up and act like nothing happened. No, this was a full-on, physics-defying fumble. The tablet flipped out of your arms, ricocheted off your knee, and skidded across the floor to the feet of one of the pilots.

Silence.

Pure, excruciating silence.

You didn’t even have the nerve to look up right away, too busy contemplating whether it was physically possible to disintegrate on command. But when you finally did glance up—because, you know, social convention demanded it—you were met with a sight that somehow made this entire disaster worse.

Because the person crouching down to pick up your poor, abused tablet was freaking hot.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a head of golden curls that practically begged to be tousled by the wind, and, oh, yeah—a moustache that somehow worked way too well on him.

He turned the tablet over in his hands, inspecting it with an amused little smirk before handing it over to you. "You, uh… need this?"

Oh, great. His voice is hot too.

You grabbed it back, praying he couldn't see how your hands were shaking. “Nope. Just thought I’d test gravity real quick.”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and his smirk deepened like he was enjoying this way too much. You, on the other hand, wanted to launch yourself into the sun.

With what little dignity you had left, you forced a quick, tight-lipped smile at him before turning on your heel and continuing forward, clutching your tablet like it was a life raft in the middle of the worst social shipwreck imaginable.

At the front of the room, Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson stood with the kind of posture that said he had zero time for nonsense, waiting for the room to settle. You barely had time to take a deep breath before his voice cut through the air.

“Alright, listen up.” His tone was crisp, commanding, and impossible to ignore. “This is Dr Y/N L/N. Everything she is about to tell you is highly classified. What you hear in this briefing does not leave this room. Understood?”

A chorus of nods. "Yes, sir."

You barely resisted the urge to physically cringe as every pilot in the room turned to stare at you—some with confusion, others with barely concealed amusement, and a few with the sharp assessing glances of people who had no clue what they were supposed to do with you.

You cleared your throat, squared your shoulders, and did your best to channel even an ounce of the confidence you usually had when you were coding at 3 AM in a secure, pilot-free lab—where the only judgment you faced was from coffee cups and the occasional system error.

As you reached the podium, you forced what you hoped was a composed smile. “Uh… hi, nice to meet you all.”

Solid. Real professional.

You glanced up just long enough to take in the mix of expressions in the room—some mildly interested, some unreadable, and one particular moustached pilot who still had the faintest trace of amusement on his face.

Nope. Not looking at him.

You exhaled slowly, centering yourself. Stay focused. Stay professional. You weren’t just here because of Ethera—you were Ethera. The only one who truly understood it. The only one who could execute this mission.

With another tap on your tablet, the slide shifted to a blacked-out, redacted briefing—only the necessary information was visible. A sleek 3D-rendered model of the enemy satellite appeared on the screen, rotating slowly. Most of its details were blurred or omitted entirely.

“This is Blackstar, a highly classified enemy satellite that has been operating in a low-Earth orbit over restricted airspace.” Your voice remained even, and steady, but the weight of what you were revealing sent a shiver down your spine. “Its existence has remained off the radar—literally and figuratively—until recently, when intelligence confirmed that it has been intercepting our encrypted communications, rerouting information, altering intelligence, and in some cases—fabricating entire communications.”

Someone exhaled sharply. Another shifted in their seat.

“So they’re feeding us bad intel?” one of them with big glasses and blonde hair asked, voice sceptical but sharp.

“That’s the theory,” you confirmed. “And given how quickly our ops have been compromised recently, it’s working.”

You tapped again, shifting to the next slide. The silent infiltration diagram appeared—an intricate web of glowing red lines showing Etherea’s integration process, slowly wrapping around the satellite’s systems like a virus embedding itself into a host.

“This is where Ethera comes in,” you said, shifting to a slide that displayed a cascading string of code, flickering across the screen. “Unlike traditional cyberweapons, Ethera doesn’t just break into a system. It integrates—restructuring security protocols as if it was always meant to be there. It’s undetectable, untraceable, and once inside, it grants us complete control of the Blackstar and won’t even register it as a breach.”

“So we’re not just hacking it," The only female pilot of the team said, arms crossed as she studied the data. “We’re hijacking it.”

“Exactly,” You nodded with a grin.

You switched to the next slide—a detailed radar map displaying the satellite’s location over international waters.

“This is the target area,” you continued after a deep breath. “It’s flying low-altitude reconnaissance patterns, which means it’s using ground relays for some of its communication. That gives us a small window to infiltrate and shut it down.”

The next slide appeared—a pair of unidentified fighter aircraft, patrolling the vicinity.

“And this is the problem,” you said grimly. “This satellite isn’t unguarded.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the pilots took in the fifth-generation stealth fighters displayed on the screen.

“We don’t know who they belong to,” you admitted. “What we do know is that they’re operating with highly classified tech—possibly experimental—and have been seen running defence patterns around the satellite’s flight path.”

Cyclone stepped forward then, arms crossed, his voice sharp and authoritative. “Which means your job is twofold. You will escort Dr L/N’s aircraft to the infiltration zone, ensuring Ethera is successfully deployed. If we are engaged, your priority remains protecting the package and ensuring a safe return.”

Oh, fantastic, you could not only feel your heartbeat in your toes, you were now officially the package.

You cleared your throat, tapping the screen again. Ethera’s interface expanded, displaying a cascade of sleek code.

“Once I’m in range,” you continued, “Ethera will lock onto the satellite’s frequency and begin infiltration. From that point, it��ll take approximately fifty-eight seconds to bypass security and assume control."

Silence settled over the room like a thick cloud, the weight of their stares pressing down on you. You could feel them analyzing, calculating, probably questioning who in their right mind thought putting you—a hacker, a tech specialist, someone whose idea of adrenaline was passing cars on the highway—into a fighter jet was a good idea.

Finally, one of the pilots—tall, broad-shouldered, blonde, and very clearly one of the cocky ones—tilted his head, arms crossed over his chest in a way that screamed too much confidence.

“So, let me get this straight.” His voice was smooth, and confident, with just the right amount of teasing. “You, Doctor—our very classified, very important tech specialist—have to be in the air, in a plane, during a mission that has a high probability of turning into a dogfight… just so you can press a button?”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of being airborne.

“Well…” You gulped, very much aware of how absolutely insane this sounded when put like that. “It’s… more than just that, but, yeah, essentially.”

A slow grin spread across his face, far too entertained by your predicament.

“Oh,” he drawled, “this is gonna be fun.”

Before you could fully process how much you already hated this, Cyclone—who had been watching the exchange with his signature unamused glare—stepped forward, cutting through the tension with his sharp, no-nonsense voice.

“This is a classified operation,” he stated, sharp and authoritative. “Not a joyride.”

The blonde’s smirk faded slightly as he straightened, and the rest of the pilots quickly fell in line.

Silence lingered for a moment longer before Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson let out a slow breath and straightened. His sharp gaze swept over the room before he nodded once.

“All right. That’s enough.” His tone was firm, the kind that left no room for argument. “We’ve got work to do. The mission will take place in a few weeks' time, once we’ve run full assessments, completed necessary preparations, and designated a lead for this operation.”

There was a slight shift in the room. Some of the pilots exchanged glances, the weight of the upcoming mission finally settling in. Others, mainly the cocky ones, looked as though they were already imagining themselves in the cockpit.

“Dismissed,” Cyclone finished.

The pilots stood, murmuring amongst themselves as they filed out of the room, the blonde one still wearing a smug grin as he passed you making you frown and turn away, your gaze then briefly met the eyes of the moustached pilot.

You hadn’t meant to look, but the moment your eyes connected, something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Curiosity? You weren’t sure, and frankly, you didn’t want to know.

So you did the only logical thing and immediately looked away and turned to gather your things. You needed to get out of here, to find some space to breathe before your brain short-circuited from stress—

“Doctor, Stay for a moment.”

You tightened your grip on your tablet and turned back to Cyclone, who was watching you with that unreadable, vaguely disapproving expression that all high-ranking officers seemed to have perfected. “Uh… yes, sir?”

Once the last pilot was out the door, Cyclone exhaled sharply and crossed his arms.

“You realize,” he said, “that you’re going to have to actually fly, correct?”

You swallowed. “I—well, technically, I’ll just be a passenger.”

His stare didn’t waver.

“Doctor,” he said, tone flat, “I’ve read your file. I know you requested to be driven here instead of taking a military transport plane. You also took a ferry across the bay instead of a helicopter. And I know that you chose to work remotely for three years to avoid getting on a plane.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “That… could mean anything.”

“It means you do not like flying, am I correct?”

Your fingers tightened around the tablet as you tried to find a way—any way—out of this. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t need to fly the plane. I just need to be in it long enough to deploy Ethera—”

Cyclone cut you off with a sharp look. “And what happens if something goes wrong, Doctor? If the aircraft takes damage? If you have to eject mid-flight? If you lose comms and have to rely on emergency protocols?”

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting at the very thought of ejecting from a jet.

Cyclone sighed, rubbing his temple as if this entire conversation was giving him a migraine. “We cannot afford to have you panicking mid-mission. If this is going to work, you need to be prepared. That’s why, starting next week you will train with the pilots on aerial procedures and undergoing mandatory training in our flight simulation program.”

Your stomach dropped. “I—wait, what? That’s not necessary—”

“It’s absolutely necessary,” Cyclone cut in, his tone sharp. “If you can’t handle a simulated flight, you become a liability—not just to yourself, but to the pilots escorting you. And in case I need to remind you, Doctor, this mission is classified at the highest level. If you panic mid-air, it won’t just be your life at risk. It’ll be theirs. And it’ll be national security at stake.”

You inhaled sharply. No pressure. None at all.

Cyclone watched you for a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly softer but still firm. “You’re the only one who can do this, Doctor. That means you need to be ready.”

You exhaled slowly, pressing your lips together before nodding stiffly. “Understood, sir.”

Cyclone gave a small nod of approval. “Good. Dismissed.”

You turned and walked out, shoulders tense, fully aware that in three days' time, you were going to be strapped into a high-speed, fighter jet. And knowing your luck?

You were definitely going to puke.

Part 2???

797 notes · View notes

im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 9 months ago

Text

Danny crawled down the aisle of the GAV, his stomach churning with every sharp turn and honest to ancients barrel rolls his parents suped up war car was doing while speeding down Gothams city streets.

He didn't think it was possible for anyone to be a worse driver than his dad, but it turned out the GAVs own Ai was powered by ectoplasm.

Who would have thought ectoplasm could be affected by Scarecrows Fear Toxin? Not Danny.

So now here he is, lying on the floor of his parents' car as its firing missiles and lazers, and the Bats are trying to beat it up.

The GAVs ring tone suddenly rang through the air, and Danny had never been so grateful to hear a Katty Perry song in his life. Hoping it was his mom calling so he would be rescued from this nightmare, he yelled out, "Answer!"

"Hello," an unfamiliar robotic voice chimed in from the speakers. Okay, so not his mom.

"Hello." He replied without thinking, his Midwestern hospitality kicking in despite no one actually being in here with him. "How can I help you?"

"Are you able to stop the machine?" Oh, so it's straight to business. Danny could respect that. "No. All the controls are on the fritz. But I think I know what caused this." He didn't give her a chance to respond before he continued, "There was a leak in the fuel line under the GAV. All my parents' tech runs on ectoplasm, which is sensitive to emotions."

"The fear toxin." The voice was still mechanical but held an undercurrent of realization, "You're a meta," the voice stated, though Danny had no idea how they knew. Scratch that. He had used his powers in Gotham a few times already. Guess the bats really do see everything, huh. "Can't you use your density sifting ability to get under the vehicle and fly underneath to repair the damage? I've seen you work on your parents' weapons before."

Danny laughed mirthlessly, "No, the GAV is specifically designed to have energy shields that I can't pass through. Besides,the problem isn't actually the leak. It's the fear. If you could force a new emotion into the ectoplasm, it might override the fear, and while I have many abilities, the Care Bear Stare isn't one of them."

#fanfiction prompts #prompts #dpxdc #danny fenton #danny phantom #oracle #barbra gordon #danny wants to touch grass really bad rn #this idea fout me. it did not want to be typed out #sorry i havent been around much. im convinced truck kun gave me depression #batman #the bats are listening in to this conversation and they have questions

3K notes · View notes

chaoticace2005 · 1 year ago

Text

Rules for the Hazbin Hotel, authored by Vaggie:

1. No drugs.

2. No fights.

3. No pranks.

4. No problematic language.

5. No murder (OR TERRITORIAL GENOCIDE WHAT THE FUCK ANGEL)

6. No smuggling in of drugs. Not by sticking them up your ass. Or by hiding them in a pizza box. Or by slingshotting them to the roof. Or getting someone else to. Not at all.

7. No sexual rendezvous with outsiders in the hotel. No SHOWING sexual rendezvous with strangers to people of the hotel either.

8. Make sure the pig/future pets stay in the patron’s room. (This includes eggs!!)

9. No singing Limit singing to once twice per day

10. Stop flirting with the bartender Angel

11. Don’t call Husk “Husker” unless he allows it.

12. No harassing the staff at all. This includes asking who tops.

13. Don’t suggest anything sexual/romantic to Alastor unless you want your head cut off.

14. NO CUTTING OFF PEOPLE’S HEADS

15. NO EATING PEOPLE

16. NO MAKING CHARLIE CRY.

17. Don’t ask me to put my spear “inside you” Angel, what the fuck?

18. Don’t turn the interior of the hotel into a swamp?! Keep it contained in your room if you must!

19. No stabbing staff or residents. No matter how much they look like bugs! (OR IF THEYRE NAME IS ANGEL)

20. Don’t try and stab bugs if they’re within 10 feet of another demon.

21. Don’t call anyone a “bitch” OR TALK ABOUT HOW MY NAME SOUNDS LIKE “VAGINA”

22. Limit Niffty’s access to sharp objects.

23. NO DEALS ALASTOR

24. No drinking. Limit drinking at bar.

25. No mentioning the Stock Market Crash of 1929. For everyone’s benefit.

26. Don’t blow a hole in the wall.

27. Try to keep roast battles OUTSIDE the hotel. (Or stop picking fights?? Please Alastor I swear to God…)

28. No spying on the hotel for outside sources or putting technology that can be used against us.

29. No evil laughing in the middle of the night, what the fuck Alastor?

30. No building weapons/war machines.

31. No eggs! (Fine the eggs can stay.)

32. Someone please keep an eye on Niffty. (And the eggs.)

33. Stop touching people ANGEL.

34. Don’t make other people storm off HUSK.

35. Respect boundaries.

36a. If Angel looks like he’s about to pass out/cry don’t comment. Let him do his thing.

36b. Don’t try to talk to Angel if he’s on the phone with Valentino. Honestly don’t even mention his phone calls with Valentino.

37. Please don’t call Lucifer “Daddy”

38. Don’t turn into a 20 foot tall demon-eating creature unless absolutely necessary.

39. Don’t cause angry loan sharks to show up at the front door.

40. NO EXPLOSIONS!

41. Rule #2, “No fights” can be broken if the person you’re fighting is Valentino. Or Adam.

42. Don’t lie to your girlfriend or hide the fact you were secretly an angel.

43. DONT TALK ABOUT PEOPLE’S TITS (or lack of)

44. KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING A BEDROOM ESPECIALLY IF SOMEONE’S HAVING MAKEUP SEX

45. Don’t give people makeovers while they’re sleeping, ANGEL!

46. Don’t pretend to eat someone’s pet, ALASTOR

47. Don’t die.

48. I never want to hear the words “cum-plete” again.

49. STOP HAVING FIGHTS ACROSS THE BUILDING LUCIFER AND ALASTOR!!

50. If Charlie is passed out on the couch LET HER SLEEP

51. No making bombs in the hotel Cherri!

52. Stop breaking rules and then saying it’s “FOR SIR PENTIOUS!”

53. Angel don’t try to shoot someone if they break spaghetti.

54. Don’t break spaghetti. Or “ruin” Italian food. Whatever the fuck that means. This apparently includes pineapple on pizza.

55. Don’t mention Valentino unless Angel brings him up first.

56. Don’t comment on Angel and Husk’s flirting.

57. Only call Angel “Anthony” if things are serious (or if you’re Husk)

58. Don’t use any of the nicknames Husk and Angel use for each other. This includes but is not limited to: “Whiskers”, “Legs”, “Kitty”, “Webs”, “Tony”, “Love”, and “Baby.”

59. It’s better not to question whatever facts Husk gives about his past.

60. Family dinners at 6 pm unless you can’t make it due to prior obligation. Game nights after on Sundays.

61. No hunting people for sport and NO KNIFE MONOPOLY.

62. Don’t attach knives to a roomba so you can have a “boyfriend” Niffty.

63. Keep Niffty away from Roombas.

64. Alastor, treat people with decency. Really, it’s not that hard.

65. No making giant ducks that breathe fire to chase people around the hotel just because they call you short.

66. Therapy. Everyone.

67. DONT HAVE SEX ON THE BAR WHAT THE FUCK GUYS?!

68. If Valentino enters the property you have permission to stab him.

69. “Hell is forever” is bullshit. You guys aren’t. You can do this.

#stupid hazbin hotel lists #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #hazbin hotel vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #vaggie #angel dust hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #charlie hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #sir pentious #cherri bomb #niffty #hazbin hotel crack #chaggie #huskerdust #angelhusk

3K notes · View notes

heliosunny · 1 month ago

Note

ONE LUCKY EGG MYDEI FIC AND MY LIFE IS YOURS‼️‼️🗣🔥🔥

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Mydei x Reader

The gentle hum of the Lucky Egg Dispenser filled the room as you inserted the coin, anticipation building in your chest. The machine whirred, shaking slightly before dispensing a shimmering, golden egg that pulsed faintly in your hands. Its warmth was comforting, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement.

3 days later.

“Let’s see what companion I’ve got” you muttered, carefully setting the egg on the table.

You barely had time to step back when the egg’s glow intensified, filling the room with blinding light. Before you could shield your eyes, a deafening boom shattered the tranquility, sending shards of light and energy flying across the room. The force knocked over furniture, cracked walls, and shattered your window.

Coughing amidst the settling dust, you squinted to make out a tall figure emerging from the smoke. His hair flowed down his shoulders, gleaming in the scattered sunlight. His golden eyes locked onto yours. His body, adorned with an aura of untamed power, stood proudly amidst the chaos he had just caused.

“Finally” the man said, his voice smooth yet commanding. His gaze softened slightly as he took a step closer. “You’re the one who summoned me.”

“What… what the hell was that?!” you exclaimed, gesturing wildly to the wrecked room around you. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? This place is unlivable now!”

His expression shifted, almost sheepish, as he glanced at the destruction. “It was… unintentional. But none of that matters. You’re mine now, and I’ll protect you with my life.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, frustration bubbling up. “I don’t even know who, or what you are, and now I have to deal with this! I’m going to have to move into a temporary apartment while they fix everything!”

The man’s brows furrowed, concern flashing across his face. “If it’s inconvenient, I’ll assist in any way I can. But first—” He reached out to you, his golden eyes unwavering. “Tell me your name.”

You hesitated before answering, feeling an almost magnetic pull toward him. As you told him, he repeated your name softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Perfect. I’ll make sure nothing ever harms you.”

Still reeling from the mess, you decided to focus on the practicalities. Looking at him, his imposing stature, confident demeanor, and the sheer energy radiating from him—you had a thought. “You seem… powerful,” you said reluctantly. “I can’t keep you here doing nothing. Let’s get you some gear. If you’re going to be sticking around, you’re coming with me to the dungeon runs.”

His smile widened. “I’ll prove to you that summoning me was the best decision you’ve ever made.”

You weren’t so sure about that yet, but at least you could put his abilities to use. Grabbing your things, you motioned for him to follow, his gaze never leaving you as you headed toward the weapon shop.

The bell above the weapon shop door jingled as you stepped inside, the smell of steel and wood filling your senses. Mydei followed silently behind you, his golden eyes scanning the rows of weapons with an almost predatory focus. The shopkeeper gave him a wary glance, likely sensing the sheer aura of power radiating from him.

“You can pick anything you want” you said, gesturing to the displays. “But keep in mind, it has to be something you’re comfortable using in a dungeon.”

Mydei strode forward, his movements fluid yet purposeful, until he stopped before a rack of spears. His hand hovered briefly over a longsword, but he passed it by with little interest. His attention landed on a sleek spear, razor-sharp blade etched with faint golden runes.

“This one” he said, his voice calm but firm.

You raised an eyebrow. “A spear? Are you sure? Most people stick with swords for versatility.”

He turned to you, the faintest smirk on his lips. “With my strength, range and precision are all I need.” He lifted the spear effortlessly, testing its weight and balance before giving a satisfied nod.

The shopkeeper hesitated but eventually approached. “A good choice” he muttered, ringing up the weapon. You paid for it and turned to Mydei.

“Alright, let’s see if you can actually back up all this confidence in the dungeon.”

The dungeon was a chaotic labyrinth of shadowy corridors and roaring beasts, yet Mydei moved through it with calculated ease. His spear spun like an extension of himself, piercing enemies with a precision and force that made your jaw drop. Monsters that usually took you and a full party several minutes to defeat were falling in mere seconds.

You could barely keep up as his movements blurred, the sheer power behind each strike sending shockwaves through the dungeon. Each time you tried to cast a support spell, the battle would already be over, leaving you scrambling to follow him to the next group of enemies.

By the time you reached the dungeon boss, it was over in a flash. Mydei’s spear impaled the massive creature straight through its core, reducing it to shimmering particles before it could even attack. You stared at him, wide-eyed, as he calmly wiped the blood off his weapon.

“That was… insane” you finally managed, still catching your breath.

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable but his tone steady. “You expected less?”

You let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “No, I guess not. With your build and the way you handle yourself, I should’ve known.”

He stepped closer, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “If it’s for you, there’s nothing I can’t do.”

You felt a slight heat rise to your cheeks at the intensity of his gaze and turned away, trying to focus. “Well, we’ve cleared the dungeon faster than anyone else probably ever has. Let’s just turn in these points and get out of here.”

As you both exited the dungeon, Mydei suddenly stopped and turned toward you. Before you could ask why, he bent down slightly and swept you off your feet, cradling you effortlessly in his arms.

“Hey! What are you doing?” you protested, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for balance.

He glanced down at you, his golden eyes calm yet unwavering. “You’ve been walking for too long. You’ll tire yourself out.”

“I can walk just fine” you huffed, squirming slightly. “Put me down!”

He didn’t budge, holding you securely as if your protests were nothing but a formality. “No. It’s easier this way, and I’d prefer it.”

You sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing with him when he was like this. Mydei had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t care about how unconventional his actions seemed. If anything, he seemed completely at ease carrying you through the bustling streets, ignoring the curious stares from passersby.

“You know,” you muttered, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks, “you could at least ask before doing this kind of thing.”

He tilted his head slightly, his expression softening. “Next time, I’ll ask. But my answer will still be the same.”

You groaned but eventually relented, leaning back slightly in his arms as he carried you toward the guild. Mydei’s habit of picking you up without warning was frustrating, but the way he carried himself—calm, strong, and entirely focused on you made it hard to stay mad at him for long.

Later that evening, the two of you stopped at a bustling tavern to eat. Mydei had already insisted on carrying you part of the way there, drawing curious glances, but the moment he stepped into the establishment, the room fell silent. His presence commanded attention, his towering build, sharp golden eyes, and the air of strength surrounding him were impossible to ignore.

Once seated, he ordered a feast that left the waiter blinking in disbelief. Plate after plate of roasted meats, stews, and fresh bread piled up on the table, and he devoured it all with the precision of a seasoned warrior fueling up after a battle.

The murmurs started soon after.

“Who is he?”

“He looks like a knight from some noble family.”

“Did you see the way he defeated that boss earlier? He’s not human, I swear!”

Some bold individuals, including a group of giggling girls, finally approached your table.

“Excuse me,” one of them said shyly, her cheeks flushed. “You’re… incredible! Are you a mercenary? Where are you from?”

Mydei paused mid-bite and turned his gaze toward you, silently asking for permission to answer. You blinked, caught off guard by his gesture. After a moment, you nodded hesitantly.

“I am not a mercenary” he said simply, his deep voice calm but commanding.

Another girl chimed in. “Then are you part of a guild? Or maybe a knight’s order?”

Once again, he glanced at you before responding. “No.”

The girls exchanged curious glances, their excitement undeterred. “Wow… You’re so strong and mysterious!”

A few men from nearby tables joined in, clearly intrigued. “You’ve got the aura of a seasoned warrior. What’s your training like?”

Mydei looked to you again, and you sighed. “You can answer that one.”

“I’ve trained my entire life for battle” he said plainly, his tone leaving no room for further questions.

Despite his succinct answers, the onlookers continued to hover, the girls swooning over his every word and the men admiring his presence. Yet, each time someone addressed him, his gaze would return to you, as if seeking approval.

It wasn’t long before the constant attention began to wear on you. You leaned closer to Mydei and muttered, “Maybe we should wrap this up before they start asking for autographs.”

He nodded, finishing his last plate with a calm efficiency that only added to his mystique. As the two of you stood to leave, the crowd parted instinctively, watching with awe as he followed you out.

The moment you stepped outside, he broke the silence. “You seemed… uncomfortable.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You think? You’ve got half the town fangirling over you.”

“They’re irrelevant” he said firmly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re the only one I care to hear from.”

His bluntness left you momentarily speechless. With a sigh, you shook your head and started walking, already dreading the next time you’d be in public with him.

As the two of you walked down the quiet street, you heard a faint, distressed meow. Looking up, you spotted a small cat clinging to the highest branch of a tree. Below, a young child was crying, calling out for their pet.

Without hesitation, you stepped closer to the tree and glanced at Mydei. “Give me a boost. I’ll get it down.”

He frowned, his golden eyes narrowing. “You’re too short. Let me handle it.”

You huffed. “I can manage just fine.”

Before you could argue further, Mydei effortlessly plucked you up and set you on a sturdy lower branch, his strength making it seem like you weighed nothing. You climbed up carefully, reaching the trembling cat and scooping it into your arms.

Once back on the ground, you handed the cat to the crying child, who beamed with gratitude. “Thank you, thank you!” they said, hugging their furry companion tightly before running off.

As you brushed dirt off your hands, Mydei’s voice broke the silence. “You should eat more.”

You blinked, turning to him. “What?”

“To grow taller” he added casually, his expression serious. “You’re too small. A stronger build would help in dungeons.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped, glaring at him. “I don’t need advice from someone who thinks carrying me everywhere is a solution to everything!”

He tilted his head, unbothered by your irritation, and before you could continue scolding him, he stepped closer and pulled you into a hug.

“Hey! What—”

“It wasn’t meant to offend you” he said, his deep voice softer now. His arms tightened slightly, holding you close. “I just… don’t want you to be fragile.”

You sighed, the warmth of his embrace and the sincerity in his voice defusing your anger. “I’m not fragile, Mydei.”

“You are to me” he murmured, his tone unwavering.

Before you could respond, the soft glow of the streetlamps dimmed as the night deepened, casting long shadows across the cobblestone road. Mydei adjusted his hold on you, scooping you up as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Seriously? Again?” you muttered, too tired to fight him this time.

“It’s safer this way” he said simply, his golden eyes scanning the darkened street ahead. “You should rest.”

As he carried you home, the sound of his steady footsteps and the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing lulled you into a sense of calm. Though you’d never admit it out loud, there was something oddly comforting about the way he always insisted on protecting you, even if his methods drove you crazy.

It was a sunny day at the zoo, and you thought it might be a nice change of pace for Mydei to experience something calmer for once. He was quiet as usual, observing the animals with mild curiosity. His warrior-like aura felt out of place among families and tourists, but he stayed close to you, his presence drawing the occasional glance.

As you approached the lion exhibit, a commotion broke out. The gates to a new lion’s cage had somehow failed, and the massive beast leapt out, snarling in rage. The crowd screamed, scattering in every direction as the lion’s piercing eyes locked onto you.

You froze, the realization of its trajectory sinking in too late. The lion lunged toward you with a deafening roar.

But before it could reach you, Mydei stepped in front, his movements faster than your eyes could follow. With one hand, he caught the lion mid-air by its scruff, halting its momentum entirely. The beast thrashed and roared, but Mydei’s grip was unyielding.

Effortlessly, he turned and hurled the lion back into its cage as though it weighed nothing. The heavy clang of the gate slamming shut echoed through the stunned silence.

You grabbed his arm immediately, your heart pounding. “Mydei, let’s go! Before someone—”

But it was already too late. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the remaining crowd as people started pulling out their phones.

You tugged on his arm urgently. “We can’t stay here. Come on!”

Without resistance, he let you drag him away from the scene, his expression calm as if nothing unusual had happened.

Back at home, you flicked on the TV, only to find footage of the incident already playing on the local news. Blurry videos showed Mydei’s effortless handling of the lion, and the commentators were speculating wildly about his identity.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is exactly what I was trying to avoid!”

Mydei, sitting beside you, tilted his head. “Should I have let it attack you?”

You sighed. “Of course not, but maybe next time don’t—” You paused, realizing how absurd it was to scold him for saving your life. “Never mind. Just… try not to stand out so much?”

He didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on you instead of the screen. After a long moment, he said softly, “Standing out doesn’t matter. Protecting you does.”

Your face warmed, and you quickly looked away, deciding that arguing with him was pointless.

With your house finally repaired, it was time to move back. Mydei carried most of your belongings effortlessly, his usual habit of treating you like you were delicate extending even to the furniture. As you arrived, one of the repair team members approached with a wide grin.

“Y/N!” the man greeted warmly. “Long time no see!”

You blinked in surprise. “Oh, hey! It’s been a while.”

He chuckled, crossing his arms. “Guess fate brought me to fix your place, huh? We really pulled it together for you.”

“Thanks a lot. It looks amazing!” you replied with genuine gratitude.

The man’s gaze shifted to Mydei, who stood silently by your side, his imposing aura impossible to ignore. “And who’s this? Your bodyguard?”

Before you could answer, he smirked mischievously. “Wait, don’t tell me… is this the guy you ditched me for? You know, after that engagement I proposed in middle school?”

You froze, feeling your stomach drop. “What? That was a joke! We were kids—”

But the damage was already done. Mydei’s golden eyes darkened, his sharp gaze locking onto the man. A tense silence hung in the air as the atmosphere grew heavy.

“You proposed to them?” Mydei’s voice was low, cold, and dangerous.

The man, clearly oblivious to the brewing storm, laughed. “Relax, man. I was joking.”

Mydei’s expression didn’t waver, his focus still trained on the man as though weighing his worth. You quickly stepped between them, raising your hands. “Okay, that’s enough! Mydei, he’s just messing around. It’s nothing.”

After a long, agonizing moment, Mydei exhaled slowly, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at you. “If you say so.”

The man blinked, finally sensing the tension. “Uh… right. I’ll just… get going then. Nice meeting you, big guy.” He gave an awkward wave before quickly retreating.

As soon as he was out of earshot, you sighed. “You didn’t have to scare him like that.”

“He disrespected you” Mydei said simply, his tone still cold.

“It was a joke!”

“Even so.” He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “No one should think they can claim you, even in jest.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling a headache coming on. “Let’s just get everything unpacked, okay?”

Without another word, Mydei scooped you up, again, and carried you inside, leaving no room for argument.

“The highest-ranked individual in the dungeon remains undefeated. Known for their sheer strength and mastery over battle, Barette dominates the underground labyrinth, ruling over all who enter.” The news anchor spoke.

You leaned back against the couch, arms crossed. “Sounds like a king of the dungeon” you mused absentmindedly. “That must be cool.”

Beside you, Mydei sat in silence. His golden eyes were fixed on the screen, but his mind was elsewhere.

“Cool?” he repeated, his voice quiet, contemplative.

You nodded. “Yeah. If you’re at the top, you can do whatever you want. No one can stand in your way.”

For a moment, there was no response. Then, Mydei exhaled a soft chuckle. “I see.”

That was the last thing he said before he disappeared.

Days later, the news returned with a different story.

“A new ruler of the dungeon has emerged. In an unprecedented display of skill, a single individual has conquered its depths alone, surpassing all challengers before them.”

Your breath caught as the screen showed grainy footage- bodies of defeated opponents littering the battlefield, and standing amidst the wreckage was a lone figure. His spear gleamed under the dim dungeon lights.

Mydei.

You barely heard the rest of the report over the sound of your own heartbeat.

“You were right” came a familiar voice from behind.

You turned slowly, finding him standing in the doorway. His armor bore the marks of battle, his hands still wrapped in the scent of blood and steel. There was no arrogance in his expression, no need for praise, only quiet certainty.

“A king of the dungeon can have whatever they want” Mydei murmured, stepping closer. “Tell me what you desire.”

You hesitated, but his gaze remained steady, unwavering.

“I’ll obtain anything for you.” he continued, his voice almost gentle. “So long as you stay by my side.”

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #honkai star rail mydei #mydei x you #yandere mydei #mydeimos #hsr mydei #mydei x reader #mydei #heliosluckyegg

635 notes · View notes

moeitsu · 7 months ago

Text

Explaining the James Logan Howlett (Wolverine) Lore for the new fans :)

I made this as a little cheat sheet for all the new Logan/Wolverine fans, in case you’ve never seen the movies or read the comics. Hopefully it’ll help with your fanfics and understanding his character better <3

Logan is my favorite of the Marvel superhero’s, and he and I go way back….so far back that my Dad dressed up as Wolverine and I as Rogue for Halloween in 2006. So he holds a very special place in my heart.

Lore - Part 2 Wolverine Comics

If you’ve seen X-men Origins: Wolverine, I hate to break it to you, but that backstory is not canon to the X-men universe. The later movies really screwed up the timeline. So the information here is strictly from the comics.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Pre-Adamantium Binding:

His real name is James Howlett, ‘Logan’ is later used as an alias to distance himself from his past.

He was born sometime around 1880, in Alberta Canada.

He is the illegitimate son of Elizabeth Howlett and Thomas Logan. He grew up on the Howlett estate and believed John Howlett was his real father.

His mutant powers first appeared when he was a child. He has accelerated healing, heightened senses, and retractable bone claws.

The trigger was caused by Thomas Logan killing James Howlett. The overwhelming fear and anger made his power manifest, blinded with rage he kills Thomas.

As his biological father dies, he reveals to Logan that he is his true father. The event is deeply traumatizing, and Logan runs away from his family estate. His mother commits suicide shortly after.

Logan has a half brother known as Sabertooth (Victor Creed) who has similar powers to the Wolverine but is more ‘animalistic’

The details vary across the comics but the brothers are always seen as rivals. And often pitted against eachother.

Logan served in WWI, WWII, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War.

He also served in a Canadian military force known as ‘Department H’ that specialized in superhuman affairs. (This was after the experiment, I’ll go into more detail later)

Sometime before the Weapon X program: On Earth-616, Logan had a wife (Itsu) and son in Japan where he was training at the time. They were killed by the Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes)

Weapon X Program - Adamantium Binding:

The Weapon X program was run by multiple people working in secret for the Canadian government. Originally beginning in 1845, their goal was to experiment on mutants and create their own super-soldiers.

Logan was deceived and manipulated into undergoing the Weapon X experiment. He did not consent to being a test subject.

For some reason the X-Men Origins movie makes it out to be that Logan willingly chose to undergo this process, only to later reveal that he was tricked into doing so.

Before being captured, he was still struggling with his identity, he was close to 100 years old at the time. His life was filled with violence and loss. Making him physically and mentally vulnerable.

He was a prime target for exploitation.

Part of the experiment was to completely erase his memories and replace them with false ones. This allowed them complete control over him.

This also made it difficult for him to recall how he ended up in the program to begin with.

I repeat: they completely wiped his memory. His whole identity was gone.

100 years of memories were gone.

The bonding process turned his entire skeleton and bone claws into indestructible metal.

Due to his regenerative nature, Logan was not given anesthetic or put under for the procedure. It was excruciatingly painful.

Logan worked as a mercenary for private military contractors. He took on these assignments without fully understanding their implications because of his fragmented memory.

Sometime later he became a member of X-Force, a private military unit (affiliated with the CIA) that dealt with incredibly violent operations.

The purpose of the project was to create an unstoppable killing machine. With their end goal being to erase his humanity all together. However Logan’s mental fortitude allowed him to resist the conditioning and make his escape before it was too late.

After escaping, Logan developed a mistrust with authority. And just people in general. He felt deeply betrayed by the Weapon X program. And he struggles with the fear of being used as a weapon.

The escape and aftermath of Weapon X:

After everything Logan went through, the intense trauma and confusion significantly impacted his actions and mindset.

He was left with extreme psychological damage, and behaved more as an animal than a man for the first few years of his freedom. Living in the wilderness of Canada.

Quite literally a feral man. He lost touch of his humanity. Embracing his animalistic abilities, turning him into an apex predator.

Logan has the ability to enter something called “Beserker Rage” which he becomes entirely driven by animalistic instinct. Turning him into an unstoppable force and exerting himself for very long periods of time.

Think of when you see him running on all fours…

Over time, Logan began to regain bits and pieces of his humanity. He was later discovered by Heather and James MacDonald Hudson who took him in and helped him recover physically and mentally.

(Logan actually fell in love with Heather, and James became his best friend. They were the closest thing he had to a family)

After he recovered, he was recruited by the Canadian governments ‘Department H’. They were responsible for a lot of his training and became a key member in Canada’s superhero team: Alpha Flight.

This is where he took on the code name “Wolverine”

His time with Alpha Flight was short lived. And soon he was approached by Charles Xavier, who was looking for mutants to join his X-Men. He recognized Logan’s potential and offered him a place on the team as well as the promise to help him regain his memory.

Logan accepted, and his time with the X-Men marked a critical and significant moment in his life. Under Xavier’s guidance he was able to rebuild his identity and gradually piece together his past. All while fighting for the rights of mutants.

Being part of the X-Men gave him a sense of purpose and direction. Although his main goal had always been to uncover what he had lost, which was himself. He still struggles with trust and relationships, but eventually forms strong bonds with the other X-men.

His past with Weapon X still haunts him. And he has vivid and terrible nightmares about what he had done and what was done to him.

I won’t go into detail about his time with the X-men because that varies a lot across the comics. Just know that he had a love-hate relationship with them, but he ultimately loved them in the end.

Some sad facts about Logan that actually haunt me:

Logan has outlived everyone he ever loved. Family, friends, even his own children. He is so so so lonely.

Immense amount of survivors guilt. He feels unworthy of the life he continues to live.

He suffers from chronic nightmares. Often waking up in a violent and panicked state.

Deep-seated fear of abandonment that goes all the way back to his early childhood. He isolates himself to protect himself from more pain.

Tons of self-loathing. He believes himself to be nothing more than a killer. He thinks he is unworthy of love and happiness.

In the “Old Man Logan” storyline, he is tricked into killing the entire X-Men team. This event haunts him for the rest of his life.

Logan had a long, unrequited love for Jean Gray. He has watched her die multiple times, and each time a piece of him dies with her. On one occasion, he even had to kill her himself.

When he succumbs to “beserker rage” he loses control of himself. And the aftermath horrifies him. He is even afraid of himself at times and one of the reasons why he distances himself from others.

Some happy/soft facts to make up for everything you just read:

Logan is incredibly fatherly at times, often taking younger mutants under his protection and guidance. He becomes a mentor to them and looks out for their well-being.

In one of the comics he takes a young girl (Jubilee) to the mall and followers her around carrying her bags. He loves doting on her and I find it so adorable.

He also teaches another mutant named Kitty how to dance.

In one mission he is tasked with taking care of an infant, Hope. And he is incredibly gentle and tender with her. Cradling her in his arms and being fiercely protective.

He has a deep love and connection with animals. Especially ones that have been mistreated or misunderstood.

Caring for an injured wolf, he nurses it back to health and releases it back into nature.

He also adopts a stray, abused dog at one point.

In one of the timelines, he funded and ran the ‘Jean Gray School for Higher Learning’ He was the headmaster, and was dedicated to protecting and teaching young mutants.

In one scene he literally makes pancakes for all the students. I love him so much.

His relationship with Nightcrawler (Kurt Wagner) is very brotherly. They share alot of respect and understanding for each other, and Nightcrawler often serves as Logan’s moral compass.

His happiest memories are when he was training in Japan. And he has a deep appreciation and admiration for the culture. Taking on the samurai code of honor, and respecting its discipline and humility.

His entire relationship with Laura Kinney (X-23). Essentially his daughter. Taking on a father-figure role for her.

In one of the comics he organizes a birthday party for her, knowing she never had one. He goes all out and it shows just how much he loves her.

Logan has a great sense of humor. Often dry and sardonic, he’s known for his quick wit and playful banter. Which adds a layer of warmth to his otherwise tough persona.

He is very fond of life’s simple pleasures. Which reflects his inner desire for peace and normalcy. He values the little things that make life enjoyable.

His numerous acts of kindness towards strangers. Logan is compassionate at heart.

He doesn’t comfort others with his words, but rather his presence. Logan has a very unique understanding of grief and tries to give others relief in knowing they aren’t alone.

WOW okay I wrote way too much. Tbh I actually cut a ton out of this but if anybody wants a part 2 I’d be happy to share more. Shoutout to my brother for helping me source all this with his comics lol.

If you read all this, you’re a real one. And I’m so glad we’re all witnessing the Logan Howlett Renaissance

#logan howlett xmen #james logan howlett #x men comics #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #marvel

2K notes · View notes