#Except on missions that would be inconvenient

[zo2mess]

Bliss In Vegas

Summary: The team landed a mission in Las Vegas, because what could possibly go wrong in the world’s most innocent city, right? Fast forward through a whirlwind of chaos, and somehow no one got hurt… but you woke up in bed with Adrian, nearly naked, and two ring pops on your fingers.

Warnings: 18+ Brief smut, hand stuff, spit stuff, alcohol consumption, crude language, I guess that’s it? (Morning breath! I’m so fucking sorry, it was all I could think about when I was writing this. Just ignore it exists for a while O_o)

Word count: 4.4k

Masterlist of my works

Note: Adrian in tighty whities with beer all over him made me incredibly feral and ready to finish this little thing I started few months ago. Eh, it is something I guess? I just wanted to get over it.

And listen, I have never written about 11th Street Kids before, except for Adrian; apologies if any of them feel weird.

You know the saying? What happens in Vegas…

“Don’t stay in Vegas,” Harcourt sternly noted at the end of her little briefing of the next so-called mission. The fact that they still needed to take care of some stray swarms of butterflies even after terminating the cow was inconvenient, said mildly. “We do our job and go back, no random stops in any of the facilities.”

Those butterfly survivors would eventually die of starvation, but ARGUS was suspicious of large groupings of them in certain areas. They could be spending their last days together as a species, or maybe, just maybe, they’re trying to find a way to stay alive and find a new source of food, which was a dangerous idea.

One of those groups was flying free between casinos and strip clubs in Vegas, Nevada. Really troublesome area to be sending this team. It was practically screaming disaster.

“Why are they sending us? I thought we were done!” Leota protested, exchanging a questioning look with John who was in the same shock as her. Vegas was way out of hand and the last thing she wanted was to spend time away from her wife and furbabies.

“The official reason is that we are now experts on butterflies when it comes to terminating them-“

“The real reason is that we are seriously underpaid and we’re a cheap workforce” Economos interrupted Harcourt in a matter of seconds, saying the real reason for the little trip awaiting you.

Chris with Adrian, on the other hand, were doing their best not to let anyone know how excited they were. You could feel Adrian vibrating out of his skin next to you. No doubt he was already thinking how he and Peacemaker will stop crime, get wasted, and cruise some bitches. The real question was how they would break free from Harcourt's gaze and go astray. “Wait, you guys are getting paid?”

One way or another, this outing in Vegas was bound to be legendary.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The whole mission felt like a dream, after shooting up butterflies it was already too late to be driving back home, so Harcourt allowed crashing at a hotel until morning. You would think everyone felt like you, exhausted after the long trip and crashing little alien bugs, but no.

Chris and Adrian were pretty much excited to be hitting the town, and a person would think Adrian would at least clean his boots that still had alien goo all over them after he cheerily stomped on butterflies all day.

It wasn’t just the casinos, bars, and strip clubs waiting to strip lost souls of all their money. On the lit-up alleys, lined up were hustlers with classic shell games, women imitating peacocks adorned with faux gold and feathers, shady watch sellers, and more or less inconspicuous pickpockets. And just like tigers in a zoo, it was best to simply watch them pacing impatiently in circles, but anyone who would stick their hand into the enclosure quickly lost it.

All these predators, performing various tricks to catch their prey, prove once and for all that human creativity and the desire for money know no bounds.

In the end, you could not just lie in your hotel bed when Las Vegas was right on the other side of your window, teasing and luring with colorful blinding lights and loud music playing from every corner, the better side of Vegas. Plus the second Adrian put on his puppy eyes and whiny begging tone you were a goner.

How could you say no?

And that was the beginning of the most memorable night you did not remember.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

When you stirred awake you felt too hot and cold at the same time, head pounding and the ringing in your ears didn’t make it easier to open your eyes. The strongest hangover you ever had was making itself known, though hangovers usually don’t make you feel you are being pushed into the mattress and making your hand sweaty?

No, no, that wasn’t sweat, was it?

The morning sun shining into the hotel room immediately blinded you when you tried to open your eyes, but you managed to at least get a look at what was causing at least half of your discomfort.

Adrian.

Nearly naked Adrian lying on top of you.

Adrian that was drooling all over your fingers as he sucked on the ring pop on your finger from his sleep.

What?

His frame completely enveloped your body, transferring his body heat to you and making you feel breathless. Adrian lounged in just his boxers and once you looked around your room you found piles of clothes all over the small cheap hotel room.

His jeans on the ground, glasses on the bedside table, His holey socks hanging from the edge of the bed with… your top and jeans? Then whose shirt were you wearing?

Adrian’s room was right next to you, why was he sleeping in your bed?

Too many questions, too little answers.

You tried to gently ease Adrian from your body and roll him to the side, but goddamn, was he heavy. You could try again and again and he just wouldn’t budge.

He groaned from his sleep because of your constant nagging but he didn’t move an inch, at least he stopped sucking on the lollipop, “Stop wiggling, I’m gonna get a boner." Gods, how could his voice sound so raspy and whiny at the same time?

“Adrian! What are you doing here?” You slapped his shoulder in an attempt to wake him up, which finally worked, he lifted his head while he just barely opened his eyes, blinking away the blurriness of his vision. Those half-lidded green eyes and tousled hair did something for you, it was hard to admit it though.

“I would be sleeping if you weren’t slapping me and making my cock hard” He mumbled nonchalantly and settled back on your chest, nuzzling to your boobs like it was the most normal thing to do. “Your tits are amazing pillow, you know that?”

Another slap. Another yelp from Adrian.

Under different circumstances, you would have enjoyed cuddling with Adrian, it’s not like you were completely resistant to his charm, or whatever that illuminates him, which makes him so enamoring.

But not right now, not when you had no idea how you got to bed, how he got in your bed, why you were almost naked, when your head was pounding, and also…

Why did you both have ring pops on your fingers?

You didn’t notice it at first, but once you did, it made gears in your head turn really hard to put one and one together. You took his hand in yours, studying his blue raspberry ring pop and comparing it to your strawberry one, but other than the fact yours was way smaller and wet from Adrian’s constant sucking, nothing stood out.

And Adrian didn’t even notice something was on his finger until you lifted his hand. Unbothered king. He was getting on the rest of your nerves that remained after the wild night.

“Oh my god! Twinsies!” How was he so cheery in the morning? He must have drunk a similar amount of alcohol as you did, but it seems his body doesn’t believe in hangovers.

When you started pushing him from your body again, he finally rolled off onto his back with a loud huff. What a way to wake up, hangover in a Vegas hotel. The only thing missing was an Elvis impersonator singing under the balcony. ‘Thank you, thank you’ he would mumble with that deep voice as you would throw a few cents at him.

Adrian laid still extremely close to you, shoulders touching and all, and stared at the ceiling with a dumb smile on his face while you were panicking next to him. How did this happen?

“Do you remember anything?”

“Nope.”

“Aren’t you concerned?”

“Nope.”

“Do you think we fucked?”

“Nah, you would have felt it.”

“You mean with that thimble of yours?”

He just snorted, tilting his head to the side to laugh right in your face. You didn't even have the energy to question what was so amusing about his thimble dick. But for that moment of Adrian laughing at you for no apparent reason, it felt like a normal day. Like you were back at HQ, relaxing on one of the worn-out couches with Adrian in his armor beside you, chatting about something ridiculous while polishing his knives and rolling his head to look at you, trying not to smile.

However, it all vanished away when Adrian lifted and knelt on the bed and a bunch of casino chips started falling from his boxers. Chip after chip pooling around his thick thighs. And it looked like he was surprised in the same way you were.

The right question would probably be why he stored his wins in underwear, second, why he went to sleep with them, and the third one…

“How did you win so much?”

“My brother taught me how to count cards, it’s really easy once you get the hang of it. But that doesn’t matter right now, what matters is that I need to exchange these crotch doubloons for real money,” He collected his chips and started admiring them in the morning light shining directly at him. “I am gonna be so rich, dude.”

Those little coins with fluorescent details flooded the room with colorful reflections. Spots of blue, green, red and pink decorated the furniture as well as your skin. If your skin wasn’t already buzzing from Adrian’s touch, you would be able to imagine the light tickling you.

“Come on, we’re going to get even more drunk to celebrate me being a fucking millionaire,” Adrian’s face lit up, what a fucking sunshine, you wanted to punch him in the face when he grabbed the blanket shielding your lower body from his greedy eyes. The cold air in the room was relentless, enveloping your body and leaving goosebumps in its wake. You could not get a break with the dumbass.

“Goddamn, do you wear this pathetic excuse for panties under your suit?” Adrian let out a wolf whistle and stared right between your legs without any shame. “You should have told me that sooner!”

Your panties? What was wrong with them?

One blurry look down and you know exactly what was wrong. “Those are not my panties.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t have white lace panties.”

“Wait, wait,” Adrian leaned extremely close to your crotch, examining the red embroidery that decorated the hem of mystery underwear. “Here it says… Congratulations to the happy couple from Bliss wedding chapel.”

“Say what?” Your eyes nearly bulged out of their eye sockets. The embroidery was a sign of something horribly dooming. White panties from the wedding chapel really weren’t a good thing for someone who did not intend to get married. And oh, the horror of wearing something gifted from a drive-through wedding chapel.

“What,” Adrian replied to your shocked words with a confused look. It seemed like he did not realize what it meant. Either that or he didn’t care at all about being married to his colleague.

“Ade, are you even registering what that means?” It was like your heart dropped down to your stomach. Did it mean what you thought it did? Were you fucking married? In Vegas? And without remembering anything?

“Oh my god, are you my wife?” He lifted from between your legs, which was fucking painful thing to do when the thing he wanted the most was to be buried between them. His face weirdly lit up, unclear if with shock or happiness, “Am I your husband?”

“No, that must be some misunderstanding, right?” You jolted up, scrambling out of bed with a bunch of uncoordinated jerks of limbs. It was a miracle you hadn’t fallen right on your face. Damn those sweet juicy drinks that weaken your brain!

“We need to talk with others, they must know something, right?” You were more or less talking to yourself, babbling how it is impossible you got married with freaking Adrian Chase without remembering anything.

Adrian was still too absorbed in those chips on the bed and the ring pop on your fingers. One of his focuses meant he won money, the other that he was married, and the third, pretty, pretty thing in front of him was his wife. He completely ignored your panic, it was whatever.

He never was the kind to believe in fate, but goddamn, he must have done something really good to get all of this in one night.

“Ade, are you listening to me?” You almost touched those chips, fingers mere inches away, before you realized that Adrian had these shiny knick-knacks stashed away in his boxers the whole night. Your hand hovered above them, eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Adrian watched you with a dumb smile, “Are you afraid of my crotch doubloons?”

“I don’t want to touch something that was near your dick” As simple as that, did he think it was normal?

“So you’re afraid of my dick” His smile widened with every word, he had that stupid expression on his face you still couldn’t look through. You had wondered several times what was going through his mind at those moments when his face twisted maliciously.

“I’m not afraid of your dick, Adrian.”

“Then touch it.”

“Why would I be touching your dick?”

“To prove you’re not a coward.” That stupid face was literally asking to be punched, but would that help your case? He looked abnormally good when he was hurt. “Plus, if we are married, we should consummate the marriage, right?”

“We’re not in the Middle Ages, Ade, we’re not married and I’m too hungover anyways”

Adrian noted in his mind that you didn’t say no because you didn’t like him outright, you said you had a hangover. This could mean two things; That you didn’t like him and hid it behind a lame excuse of drinking too much yesterday, or that you were actually hangover but did like him.

That must be the case. At least he hoped.

All this time, he was hoping you might get the hint that he liked you. He tried to be discreet, sending small signs like he saw in movies and read on Wikihow.

Make eye contact, look down, hold, slowly look back, look away, soft smile, scratch your neck, lick your lips, make eye contact again, wink…

And all this time you thought he was cursing you across the room when he tried this in team debriefings.

Being discreet was so unlike him, but he hoped it might seem normal, not like his usual attempts at flirting. And that was the problem. Adrian Chase, a guy desperate to share his every thought, sending subtle signs? Who could have caught that? Not you, that’s for certain.

“I mean… What is a hangover anyway? It’s when alcohol levels in your body drop to zero after heavy drinking. And one way to remedy that is drinking more,” He knew way too much for his own good, though after multiple horrible hangovers, he needed to know what was happening to him.

“Maybe if you finally got laid you wouldn’t be so cranky all the time, it's like a hangover” He finished his speech with a look that screamed anything but innocent.

Your blood suddenly grew hot, how dare he say you don’t have any game? Your hand shot up between his legs, touching him just like he dared you.

You fell right into a trap.

Say what you want about Adrian, he was stupid but not dumb. He hunts down criminals, he must know a thing or two how to trap his victim, how to get what he wants. Right now, he got you right he wanted. On a hotel bed, dressed just in his shirt and wedding panties and your hand on his dick.

Lucky bastard.

And you… You were a lucky bastard in a way too.

You could fondle his cock any way you wanted. This image haunted your dreams more than once. And what fool would you be if you didn’t take that chance.

Though the surprised look on your face was not something you imagined, when you got a good feel of Adrian ‘Thimble’ Chase. He was already semi-hard, and it made you wonder what caused it. Was it when you were nudging him in his sleep? Or when his nose caught a whiff of you while reading your underwear testament?

Maybe you would have to spread the word that your now husband was Mr. Definitely not Thimble.

You began running your hand up and down over him, slowly but surely making him even harder than he was. Adrian managed to keep his wide and confident smile just for few seconds. One gentle squeeze on his base, one swipe of your thumb over his covered tip, and he was a goner. His sparkling eyes fluttered closed, and this time, when he licked his lips, it didn’t look like he was licking away sauce from pasta at Fennel Fields.

While his hips gently rutted further into your touch, his hands shot to your hips. Strangely, he was slick with his touches, before you even knew it, his fingers were running under the sides of your white lace panties, just oh so desperate to feel your soft skin without anything else in the way.

“Is my tongue still red?” Adrian asked before sticking his tongue out, baring the surface of his tongue colored in deep red. What a weird question to be asking when you’re getting your dick fondled, though at this point you shouldn’t be surprised.

“Still very much red, why are you asking now?”

Adrian just grinned and eyed you up like a predator. Something was stirring in his mind.

Before you could ask him for the meaning of his question again, he lifted his hand with the big ring pop on his finger and pushed it into your mouth.

The second flavor of blue raspberry burst on your tongue you couldn’t blame him for sucking on your ring pop all night and drooling on your fingers.

While you enjoyed the artificial taste coating your taste buds, Adrian stared at you with a slack jaw and soft whimpers falling from his mouth. “Fuck, I wish you were sucking me like that”

Suddenly, he pulled away his hand, making you whine at the loss of your lolly. It didn’t take long before you had something else to focus on with your mouth though.

He practically lunged at you with his lips, pressing them against yours and setting a pace too fast for your sluggish mind. Adrian’s tongue demanded entrance in your mouth and before you could even register what he wanted, he was pulling at your chin, opening up your mouth for his wandering tongue.

You desperately wanted to match his frenzied pace, it was all too much and yet so good.

Adrian didn’t lick around your mouth like you would have expected, no, quite the opposite. He flattened his tongue over yours, making sure surfaces painted in red and blue brushed against each other.

Oh, so that’s what he was doing…

He wanted to combine them. Red and blue create purple. It would be a beautiful symbol for your new, and very very strange, marriage. Purple can, among other things, symbolize mystery, exactly that clouded over last night. It was still a mystery how you two ended up together. Did it matter anyway?

In the end, he was licking into your mouth like a dog. Panting like one, too.

When he pulled away from the kiss, a string of spit connected your swollen lips. Stretching, stretching, and stretching until it broke and landed on both of your chins. As you were reaching to wipe it off Adrian latched his lips onto your chin with unseen eagerness. The main idea was to help you with the excessive saliva, though he only made it worse.

He trailed open-mouthed kisses from your chin, across jaw, over cheeks, and ended by your ear, “Should I prove I’m not afraid of your pussy?” He whispered before licking the shell of your ear. One of his hands trailed the ring pop over your arm, leaving a sticky trail, while the other began prying between your legs.

“Wow, look at that,” He dared to chuckle after he slipped his fingers under the crotch of your panties, feeling your heat for the first time. You believed Adrian would comment on how wet you were for him, for Vigilante. But no, of course not.

“Your pussy doesn’t have teeth like I thought it would!”

And at that moment you promised yourself you will kill him right after he makes you cum. Not sooner nor later. As a simple warning, you tightened your grip you had on him over the boxers that were, much to your surprise, already stained with precum.

Let’s see how happy Adrian will be when he realizes his wife is a praying mantis in disguise.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

You didn’t bite Adrian’s head off after all, he looked too cute after you made him finish in his underwear. That boyish grin, puffy lips wet with your cum after he licked his fingers off with proud bravado, lively eyes that shined almost the same way as his casino chips…

No, you might just keep him a bit longer.

At least he stopped with his nagging while you took a shower together and dressed in clean clothes. All this time, Adrian watched you like a lost puppy, begging for affection. Each time you gave him a chaste kiss, he stopped whining for a mere second.

While Adrian was hungry for more kisses, and undoubtedly something more, you were actually hungry for some food and coffee or green tea to get you going for the day. So you made your way to the hotel’s small dining room.

Adrian threw all his casino chips on the table between breakfast plates and mugs, they clinked against the ceramics almost too loudly for your poor pounding head.

Everyone’s eyes fell on shiny colorful chips, Leota put down her butter bread so she could reach for them, thankfully you grabbed her wrist right before she could get her fingers on the chip lying next to her plate “Don’t touch that.”

She shot you a questioning look but trusted your judgment. No need to tell her where these chips were, especially if they were in the middle of the table and too close to food.

“Did I get married to Adrian yesterday?” You asked without any humor in your voice, eyes flickering between every single one of those guilty faces of your colleagues. Adrian, though, did not care at all about this little investigation. He was too blissful with married life to even question it.

“It was one of the weirdest ceremonies I have ever seen,” Leota cracked first, “You didn’t even want me as your bridesmaid! You chose John!”

Your eyes landed on Economos, sipping his coffee to hide from you, “I did my duty well” was all he added.

Then you took a good look at others, Harcourt kept staring forward, digging her fork in some scrambled eggs. Chris, on the other hand, was already showing Adrian photos on his phone and Adrian was smiling widely, pointing out small details from your wedding and muttering how beautiful you looked, wearing cheap-looking veil you rented and holding a bottle of vodka instead of a wedding bouquet.

You joined him, and all that anger and confusion blurred for a brief moment. You looked happy in those photos. Laughing, chatting, eyes sparkling like they haven’t for a while. Every single photo was suddenly so precious.

Those were your lost memories.

And the way you were holding onto Adrian, so tightly and lovingly… All those small details didn’t escape either of you. Adrian nudged you with his elbow “We look good together”.

And you did. You really did.

Flushed, drunk, happy.

With the promise of the team explaining on the way home, you dropped your investigation of last night and settled to finally have some breakfast. Both you and Adrian get the leftovers in the form of yogurt. “Snoozers losers,” Chris added.

It was like you and Adrian had already synchronized, peeling the lid off, and licking some leftover yogurt at the same time. And in the meantime, everyone around the table could get a pretty good look at your purple tongues.

“See?! See that?” Chris called out way too loudly while pointing at you, “Did you stick your dick in her?”

You nearly choked on your own saliva at that question. Who even asks that? Especially during hotel breakfast? Some people from other tables turned around when they heard it, eager to know what the hell was going on.

But Adrian smiled, lifted his hand and wiggled his digits “Just my fingers.”

A symphony of disgusted noises came from your team, suddenly your yoghurt didn’t look as appealing as it should. But hey, maybe there will be a time when you won’t be able to eat yoghurt without thinking of Adrian and his-

“I made sure the guy marrying you didn’t have a license for it to be legitimate,” Harcourt finally spoke up, much to the dismay of the rest of the team.

“Which was a fucking mistake! You know how hilarious it would be if these two goons were married for real?” Chris chimed in with a booming laugh just from the idea of the night of the outing ending in one happy couple, drunk out of their minds.

Weight dropped from your shoulders upon hearing you weren’t married for real to Vigilante over there. It was like the air finally cleared, and you could take a deep breath of that crisp morning air. You caught Adrian doing the same, sighing in relief.

But if you were for real, it also stung a little. Somehow, while you made your way to breakfast earlier, you already started planning what to do next. Who will move to whom, when you should go and change your name on your ID to Chase, if you should get rid of your coffee machine so Adrian wouldn’t have too much disposal of caffeine…

While you were lost in your head, thinking whenever you were actually happy or sad the dumbass next to you wasn't your partner for real, Adrian simply leaned closer to you and whispered with that dopey smile, “It’s fine. Next time I’ll be marrying you, I want to remember it.”

[brokenbough]

Hear me out plsplsplspls new to 141 fem reader not interacting with the boys at all outside of missions like doesn't eat with them runs off somewhere else and when they confront her turns out she's just a social awkward loner who doesn't know how to talk to men (projecting)

Ofc! :)

--

Price picked his team. That was one of the few things he was in control of in this shitty, three-dimensional world. His team, his people.

Then... you came along. Shy, and socially awkward. Everything his team didn't need. Not to mention that you were a woman.

Now, Price wasn't one to discriminate, let alone on gender, he works with Laswell on almost every mission for God's sake, but your more than meek demeanor was just the icing on the toppling cake that you were.

He'd met you exactly once before letting you meet his boys (against his will of course), and it led him to one conclusion that he couldn't deny anymore:

You were soft. And soft got you killed in the field.

"This is the new Sergeant you're working with. Treat her uh... kindly." He says, short and clipped like he has somewhere better to be. He does. Many places in fact.

You nod to them, head held high, but mouth sewed shut with a tight jaw. You. Were. Sweating.

Someone clears their throat, the one with the mohawk. "W-welcome uh.. lass." He says, painfully Scottish. Cute though, you guess. "Soap." He says. Just his name. "Or- uh MacTavish if you.. want."

You nod to him specifically, hoping the pink isn't spreading up to your face. You don't say anything, turning to the one next to him.

Brown, cute too. Were they all this handsome? Jeez. You nodded to him as well and he raised his hand in silent greeting. "Gaz."

Then right behind him, leaned against the corner. You nodded to him as well, eyes focused on his chest. You saw the fabric move slightly; he nodded back.

You turn back to the captain, watching him nod again before dismissing the lot of you, except you of course.

You feel your blood rush before you sit down, watching the loose button on his shirt.

"Sir-- Captain." You correct, looking over and back.

He sighs like he doesn't want to talk, let alone talk to you. "I'm gonna be honest with ya. I don't want you here. I pick my team, not get stuck with... noobies who don't know a mag from a clip." He says.

"Uhm. Respectfully.. uh-- captain. We learn the difference in uh.. basic training. A-and I've been.. uh.. you know... deployed before. So... I'm sorry to be an inconvenience... but I'm not a stupid inconvenience." You explain politely, meeting his eyes for only a second, your leg bouncing under the table.

"Right." He exasperates. "Dismissed."

------------

You find yourself alone as usual, maybe your nose in a book at the library, or eating when the rest of the 141 wasn't around.

You figured if the captain didn't like you, his subordinates definitely won't. And even if they did, they wouldn't want a woman on their team, strong or weak. But you wouldn't waste your time trying to convince them of either, you'd just stick to yourself and shoot when needed. Watch their back when called for, but drink by yourself when the op ended.

Gaz, maybe even Soap would drop by your room when they went out, but you always declined, stuttering, face down, and just trying to get your door shut again.

They didn't know what the matter was, what was wrong with you. Soap was even taking offense to his people skills because he could not get you out of your shell.

"I mean-- most women are open- especially with me, yknow what I mean-- but seriously, I can't tell what makes her tick." Soap complains, leaning back into the seat of the local bar in Southern Mexico. Oaxaca.

"Maybe she just likes her alone time; like Ghostie over here." Gaz comments, patting Ghost on the shoulder, getting an disapproving grunt.

"Or maybe she doesn't like us, huh? I mean, some people have been less welcoming." Soap continues, eyes his captain.

"I don't do transfers. I pick my team." Price defends nonchalantly.

The group goes back and forth on how to get you out, plotting and planning on how to get you to have one drink with them, the ploys getting more and more deranged as the drinks flow.

"Cmon big man. Give at least one suggestion." Gaz slurs, rocking into his more than sober lieutenant.

He clears his throat, pushing his sergeant into his other. "You could always ask her what she wants."

"Women don't say what they mean, you know that." Price huffs.

"Don't knock it till ya try it Cap'n."

"And what do ye kno bout communicatin' Lt.?"

"Works better than you think." He deflects before dragging them all out and driving(scary I know)them back to base so they didn't stumble somewhere else.

He shows up at your door the next day while they-- sober-- conjure up more ideas on how to get you out, his tipping point being one of them suggesting pulling the fire alarm.

He leaves the room without a word, not that any of them noticed or cared, too caught up in planning. The walk to your room is silent, most soldiers outside doing PT. Despite Price wanting you in the women's barracks, he ended up letting you stay with them, their own private barracks near the back of the base.

He knocked on your door firmly, stepping back some to give you space when you opened up.

Your startled face and demeanor was nothing short of awkward. It makes him cringe inwardly, but he knows how it is.

"Oh-- l-lieutenant. Uh. Hi? Can I uhm... help you?"

"I'm here to help you." He says blankly, looking at you.

"Oh. Uh.... with what?" You ask.

He stands there for a while, mulling over his words and trying to lock eyes with you but can't. His whole read on you is just: nervous.

"Do I make you nervous sergeant?" He asks suddenly.

"Uh- wha-what? N-nervous? A lot of things m-make me nervous. Yknow, haha, like any other p-person." You squeak out, resisting the urge to close the door you are still hiding behind on your superior.

So, yes. He thinks to himself.

"Johnny and Gaz are planning on literally dragging you our your room to hang with them. Be advised." He says blankly before turning and leaving as you shut your door and melt into a puddle in your room.

------------

With these new warnings, you make it a point to avoid them at any cost, even after missions. Especially after missions.

You silently thank the lieutenant with each day you narrowly get caught before he's there and calling them off somewhere else. He never looks at you, or tells you that he's protecting you from them, but you can't help but think of him as your own personal guardian angel.

You find yourself in his vicinity more often now, whether in the library or gym at odd hours, and you can't help but appreciate his silence because the last time you guys talked off mission, you were a stuttering mess who didn't seem to know English.

An embarrassment to put it bluntly.

But now, with just him, you can relax in the library without having to worry about a conversation, or work out without someone asking what you're listening to. It's smooth sailing. Until it's not. Because, of course, the 141, one of the most elite squads in the world, pick up on this.

"You're stealing the lassie away." Soap accuses.

"No, I'm not." Ghost says amused.

"Ye are. Yer always together."

"No, we arent." He defends again with much amusement.

"You two were just in the library together." Gaz includes, taking Johnny's side.

"I was reading. She happen to be there too."

"Lies." Soap scorns.

"Maybe if you gave her space, she wouldn't hole up in 'er room. Ever think o' that?" Ghost questions.

"Well, no-- but that's not the point."

"That's the whole point MacTavish."

Soap only huffs, glaring at his lieutenant the rest of dinner.

---

Soap finally takes the hint to back off of you, instead waiting for you like a wounded animal. You make the grave mistake of trusting this... silent offering and find yourself in a loud bar with louder music surrounded by even louder and drunk men. Your worst nightmare.

Soap is speaking Scottish gibberish, Gaz is asking you a million drunken questions, Price is passed out in the seat, and your only safe place: Ghost, is gone. Maybe to the bathroom or to hopefully start up the car so you can leave.

"Cmoooon lass, telll mee your storryy." Gaz rumbles in your ear, brown skin glowing under the yellow light bulbs of the pub.

"I-I don't really have-- uhm. A story." You say, leaning back from the booze on his breath.

"Everyonnee haas a storyy.." He slurs, sure of himself.

"Sorry to uh.. disappoint. I guess you can't be right on everything, haha..." you say, wishing you drank so you could atleast forget this entire night.

Gaz only stares at you, finding your not so much of a joke not so funny.

"Sorry." You squeak, looking away.

------

The ride home is silent, save for Price's, Soap's, and Gaz's snores in the back seat. You were more than uncomfortable in the front seat with your lieutenant, tipsy enough to say to just call him Ghost.

You lied back in you seat, trying to curl up and away from the sleepy men.

"You should tell them you're an introvert." He suddenly says.

"The last time I talked to them, I got into this mess." You huff, not stuttering a word before realizing who you were talking to. "R-respectfully. Uh, sir-- lieutenant-- fuck, Ghost." You say quickly.

He let's out a soft chuckle and you feel your face heat up.

"Sorry." You mumble.

He only hums, tapping against the steering wheel.

Fortunately, you all get back to base in one piece, helping Ghost carry in the drunken men.

You two part once you finally have Gaz into his bed, tucking him in before quickly leaving, hoping he didn't wake up.

Goodnights are swapped between the two of you before you finally collapse onto your bed, vouching to never say yes to a night out again.

---------

They finally get the memo of you being an introvert when they don't see you for 3 whole days on base after the night in the bar. You've been avoiding them and they feel bad. They know now not to bombard you with... well.. them, before asking permission. They try to make the most of your boundaries but sometimes when you stutter whenever one gets too close is too cute to pass up on every now again.

Other than that, you've opened up a bit more, telling them-- indirectly-- that you don't have many friends and weren't sure on how you react with being thrown into a bunch you wanted to do as much. They also figure your shyness with them comes from not having many friends, and in turn, not talking to a lot of guys throughout your years.

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Hope you enjoyed, sorry its so long, idk how to write them short 🥲 sorry it also took me to long to write, I haven't really felt like writing nor knew how to go about this prompt

🖤🩶🤍

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

A/N:This was requested but I cannot find it anywhere!!! I'm sorry I couldn't tag you :( The request was for a mute reader who wasn't a hero working at the tower. Bob becomes a translator for them!

I do have a few follow-up ideas for this let me know if you're interested in one or both! 1. Bob gets jealous of someone at the tower bc they learned ASL and are taking up more of your time. 2. Soft mutual pining with no jealousy (obviously both could be combined lol)

Summary: Working with the Thunderbolts* is a challenge, especially when you don't speak. Thankfully Bob is there to communicate for you.

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Most of the team barely noticed you when you started at the Tower. You weren’t flashy — no special powers or combat gear. You worked in communications, more in the ground support area of things. It was quiet and precise, the kind of work that kept the mission flowing much smoother.

The only thing that would be labeled as special for you was that you didn't speak.

Which meant in a room full of people who were always busy solving problems you were often overlooked… except by Bob.

Bob usually blended into the background himself. He had a talent for disappearing into a room full of larger personalities. It was Bob who smiled the first time you signed “Nice to meet you.” You didn’t expect him to answer, most people just blinked at you awkwardly and waited for you to get your phone out. But Bob, he softly smiled back, and signed, slowly, clumsy but clearly: “Nice to meet you too.”

You stared back at him in disbelief.

He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish.

“I uh… picked up ASL a while ago. Long story. You’re the first one here who I can use it with.”

From that day on, everything changed.

You didn’t need to rely on text or nods. You could talk-- actually talk and be understood while Bob happily listened. He was patient and kind. He never made you feel like you were less than or an inconvenience. Whenever meetings got chaotic or everyone at the debriefs skipped you over, Bob would awkwardly clear his throat and voice your thoughts aloud. “She says we need to reroute the signal. It’s already compromised.”

No one else understood what you were telling them, but they started paying attention when Bob spoke. And that made him…proud? It gave him something nothing else did, it gave purpose to his life. He wasn’t just in the background anymore. He was your connection to the team. Your translator. Your voice. He was needed. He was important, he was…valued. He never knew that he was missing out on this feeling but he knew he never wanted to miss it again.

He’d walk into the control room just to see if you needed help. He started to pause during drills to check if you were okay. And you started saving little notes for him on post-its. Inside jokes and little drawings. Doodles of him and a speech bubble: “Best Translator Ever.”

He kept that one on his mirror.

One night, after a long hectic day, you both lingered by the Tower windows, watching the rain streak down the glass. The others had cleared out long ago but the two of you stayed in the peace that always seemed to find you when the two of you were together.

You signed slowly: “Thank you for seeing me.” Bob looked at you, and stayed quiet for a long moment. Then he smiled, it was a soft smile, a little sad, but very warm. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like I wasn’t invisible.”

You reached out and brushed your fingers against his arm, a small gesture that made him suck in a breath, a gesture that said: Me too. And in that silence between signs, Bob realized something: You didn’t need words to say everything that mattered.

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If you like my work please let me know! Reblogging, commenting and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Request are open <3

I have started a taglist for Bob lmk if you'd like to be added <3

@itsjustisa

[firelilyfox]

Banana Pancakes

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x female reader

Summary: A massive storm is raging over the city, so you two are trapped inside. For the first time you can enjoy some alone time with Bob and the feelings are getting up to the surface ...

Words: 2k

Warnings: fluff overload. Bob and reader having a HUGE crush on each other. kissing. touching. slightly naughty thoughts (nothing too much). dancing.

Author's Note: I was inspired by this song :) if you want to listen to it:

______________________________

You stumbled out of your bedroom. There was a disturbing silence in the hallway. 

Normally the voices of Yelena and Alexei would be echoing through the whole floor of the Thunderbolts Tower by this time of the day. They would be bickering about a minor inconvenience and John would try to get as far away as possible from that, but not without loudly dropping snarly comments. Ava would sing a song she made up, just to annoy John even more, because usually the songs are full of insults about him and his big ego. 

And Bucky … well you wouldn’t hear him because he always kept his mouth shut and watching the chaos unfold right before him. With an disapproving look on his face and a mug full of hot coffee in his hand (wich was probably already his third cup). 

But today … the tower seemed abandoned. Except for a dull rattling that came from the living room. And a mumbling voice. 

As you walked around the corner, armes crossed to keep the cardigan in place, you found the source of both noises. 

The voice was the weatherman on the tv, who was showing something on his chaotic weather-map behind him. 

The rattling was a thunderstorm outside of the windows, throwing heavy raindrops on the glass. New York vanished in a dark grey cloud and even the lights got blurred by the raindrops running down the floor-to-ceiling windows. 

„I guess they forgot both of us.“ 

The voice came out of nowhere and scared the shit out of you. A high-pitched scream came out of your throat, but you instantly slap one hand over your mouth. 

It was Bob. 

He was standing there in his pajamas - a dark sweatpants and an oversized shirt with a smoking turtle on it - and messed up hair. He just got up and still looked half asleep. 

„Geez, Bob! Don’t scare me like that.“ 

Bob apologized with raised hands. He didn’t meant to. But … when he saw you, walking in the room with this adorable, smooth movements… he didn’t seem to remember how to start a conversation properly. He wrenched his hands, trying to act all collected when in reality his heart made funny things. 

„M-sorry“, he mumbled. „Uhm - the others … they are on a mission. Out of the town. They left uhm - they left a note.“ Bob listened to the words coming out of his mouth and wanted to punch himself in the gut. Why does he sound like a damn toddler whenever you were around? 

You nodded. „Alright. Well, seems like we have the whole floor to us for the day. Ain’t no way they’re coming back while this disaster is still going on.“ You pointed at the storm outside with a side eye. 

„Yeah. Looks like the final judgement out there.“ Bob stepped closer to the windows - closer to you - and watched the clouds drive by. 

„So.“ 

He turned his head to look down at you. „So?“ 

You shrug. „So what are we gonna do?“ 

Bob looked around the apartment. There was not much to do here besides a gym downstairs and a technical headquarters, that would’ve made the secret service jealous. 

„I dunno“, he put his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. 

You turned to face him. „I have an idea!“ 

Bob mirrored your smile without knowing what you were thinking about. It was always like that with you. He couldn’t really control his body reacting to you.

When you pass by, he followed you with his eyes only. If something made you laugh so freely, he wanted to be that something. He wanted to be the one who made you laugh. And in moments like this, when your eyes light up in excitement, he felt like sunshine was filling the room. Fully consuming him, until all the bad thoughts and mean voices shut up. 

You gave him everything he need without even knowing it. 

So when you told him about your idea, he was totally into it. First you got into the shower - separated of course - but Bob couldn’t keep his mind from slipping to the though of you being right next door, in your quarters … naked. He felt his cheeks getting all flushed and turned the water ice cold. 

After you two got freshen up, it was time to make some breakfast. But the kitchen of a chaotic superhero family is not quite the most organized place to be. Or even stocked. 

„How can it be, that we live in a freakin’ tower with luxury nonsense things, but don’t have anything to eat“, you wondered loudly while Bob scanned the fridge for something usable. 

„No idea“, he chuckled. „But we have everything to make at least two pancakes!“ With a victorious smile he turned around and showed you the ingredients. You were smiling brightly, standing closer than he had expected. 

„I found bananas.“ You wiggling the fruit in front of his face and he almost dropped the eggs. Never had he been so close up to you. Bob noticed every detail of your face. The soft skin right under your cheekbones, slightly turning pink. Your hair still a little wet from the shower. Bob forgot how to breathe for a moment. 

And you? You stared into his widened puppy dog eyes, looking down at you. He licked his lips. The dark curls falling into his eyes, when his head dips a little more into your direction. He didn’t even noticed it, but his body took over and clearly wanted to be closer to you. 

A thunder rumbled outside. Bob blinked a few times, clearing his throat and quickly recovering from the sizzling tension in the air. 

You crooked a little smile. „Let’s make the best banana pancakes on this planet!“ 

Said and done. While Bob was preparing the kitchen, you stepped over to the music system. You chose a playlist full of your favorite songs for a rainy sundaymorning and walked back to Bob. Your body moved with the rhythm and it was hard for Bob to not stare again. It was almost hypnotizing for him. He wanted to rest his hands on your hips and experience the feeling of you … 

„Okay all set. Let’s make some breakfast!“ 

The pancakes turned out deliciously. And you could even get more than two out of the rare ingredients. Bob and you got comfortable to each lean at a pillar between the windows, leaving you sitting at the opposite from one another and almost touching by the knees. 

„They are really good“, you said with a full mouth and Bob had trouble to take a bite without smiling like an idiot. „I never knew you can cook.“ 

„Well, I wouldn’t count that as cooking. But thanks.“ Yeah the butterflies in his stomach are freaking out right now. 

You look at him, really look at him while he was distracted by his banana pancake. He looked so effortlessly handsome it was almost unfair. The way his brought shoulders are moving under his hoodie made your imagination doing funny things.

Your fingers twitched, in a unspoken wish to see how they would feel. Bob looked outside the window, chewing on a bite and you couldn’t hold back a silly smile. He looked so peaceful, so young and just so beautiful. 

When he looked back at you, Bob caught you red handed staring at him. Oh, if you would’ve only known what this little fact doing to him. He risked to suffocate on that last bite. 

You shivered under his intense gaze. 

„Oh are you cold?“ He asked. 

You made an effort to stand up and Bob mirrored your movements. Suddenly the two of you got really close again, standing in front of one another within a few inches. Bob wanted to reach out so badly. He wanted to take your hand in his, just feel how soft your skin would feel on his. Because he knew full well, that he would practically drop dead at how good it would be. 

„Yeah …“, you collected your thoughts again. „I think I’ll get something to cover up.“ You wanted to turn around to leave, but Bob let his instincts get the upper hand. 

He reached out and held you back by accidentally grabbing your waist. The plan was to aim for your wrist. 

Holy shit! I’m touching her …. What am I doing? 

His thoughts raced and went in circles. He forgot why he wanted to hold her back, but when he saw goosebumps on her arms, he remembered quickly. And pulled his hands back. 

„You can have my hoodie. I’m hot anyway.“ He nodded with a nervous smile. 

You blinked twice, letting his words sink in. And a little giggle escaped your mouth. For a sweet moment Bob was confused about you reaction … then he realized what he just said. 

„I-I mean .. fuck… I meant I’m warm. Not hot. No, I’m not hot. But this..“ He pulled the dark hoodie over his head, messing up his curls even more. „This is really hot - warm - I meant warm!“ 

Bob handed it over to you with an apologizing look in his puppy dog eyes. You could see his cheeks getting all flushed and you heart skipped a beat. 

„Thank you, Bob“, you said with a sweet smile and took his hoodie. The material was soft and it’s shape covered your frame like a big blanked. The waistband reaching the middle of your thighs and the sleeves swelling your hands completely. 

Bob was certain he just had a stroke. You looked so adorable in his clothes! A deep - cave man like - feeling formed inside his chest, telling him to always protect you. 

„How do I look?“ You spread your arms out and smiled. 

„You look stunning. Beautiful.“ 

Now it was your turn for heated up cheeks. Every fiber of your being wanted to get closer to him. You already knew how his hoodie feel, now you wanted to get more of him. All of him, if possible. 

Your favorite song, that just sounded from the speakers, gave you an idea how to get what you desired. 

So you straighten your shoulders and mentally diving into unknown waters. „Bob, would you dance with me?“ 

Bobs eyebrows shot up, leaving an surprised expression on his handsome face. „Uhm… Mh-kay.“ 

You reached out for his hand. Bob took one step in your direction, resting his free hand on the small of your back, gently pulling you closer. You could feel the heat of his body sinking through the thick fabric of your clothes. His hand felt strong and steady while guiding your movements, but at the same time he was holding you so soft, so careful … the butterflies in your stomach turned into a wild tornado, full of colorful wings. 

„I’m glad the others forgot about us“, Bob confessed with a cheeky smile showing off his dimples. 

„Me too. Never had a better Sunday in my life. Being with you makes me really happy, Bob.“ 

He looked at you like you just told him he’d won the lottery. (And if you would ask him, he definitely did). „Can I, uhm can I try something?“ 

You nodded. 

Bob gently brushing a lost wisp of hair out of your face, cupping it with his large hand. He leaned down, slowly, so you could back out anytime. But you didn’t. Instead you got up on your tiptoes to meet his lips halfway, as they touched yours. 

The kiss was soft, gentle like a butterfly itself. His hand on your back holding you tight, while the other one went to slowly brushing the line under your jaw. Bob kissed you like he was incapable of ever stop again. 

You let one hand rest on his heart - feel it racing under your touch, while the other hand get a hold of his neck. 

When the kiss ended you were both a little out of breath. „You know …“ A smile appeared on your swollen lips. „I wasn’t even cold.“ 

First he was confused but then he understood that the goosebumps didn’t dame because of the temperature. He gave you a shy smile. 

„But“, you kissed him again. „I do think that your hot.“ 

The two of you danced for a while. Multiple songs have passed. Bob had swung you around, catching you again and holding you close to his heart. Laughter filled the empty loft while the music, mixed with the noises of the heavy rain outside, made you feel like being in a bubble. 

A bubble were only you and Bob exist. And banana pancakes. 

____________________________

Thanks for reading!🧡 All interactions are highly appreciated (but please don't copy my work)

🖤Bob Reynolds Masterlist💛

[sirahegao]

Duty Calls

Virgin Mark Grayson x Female reader

Summary: Being intimate with Mark never goes according to plan. He always gets called out for missions just before getting to the good part. He’s promised to make it up to you.

Tags: Just vanilla sex. Unprotected P in V. Oral sex (female receiving). Slight dirty talk. Whimpering. Overstimulation. Fingering. Masturbation. Missionary. Costume stays on. Creampies.

Wc: 3,430

AN: I was rewatching invincible and the whole Amber arc gave me this idea. Thank you for reading. Hope ya’ll enjoy.

It was rare to find intimate time with Mark. It was as if the universe intervened on purpose. Well, not the universe but a man called Cecil. That’s what Mark called the man who would send him on assignments at the most inconvenient of times. You were pretty sure he was somehow spying on you both and got a kick out of interrupting your alone time.

As you both made out deeply under the darkness of your dorm room, the tv the only source of light, you prayed that for once they wouldn’t call your boyfriend away. Especially now that he began to trail his kisses lower and lower.

You were both still fully dressed since what was happening was definitely not planned. A simple peck on the lips led to one thing and then to another. Like his clothed cock grinding on your lower half as he softly nibbled and sucked all over your neck. He was definitely leaving marks you would have to cover later.

“I… thought we were supposed to be watching a movie.” You managed to say as your fingers tangled between his dark hair. The ecstasy and anticipation making you sound out of breath.

The only response you received was an uninterested hum as his rough hands continued to explore your body under your shirt. His hands were everywhere except where you needed them, and knowing the world’s bad timing, you desperately began to guide one of his hands to your clothed cunt. Your excitement didn’t fail to form a wet patch on your pants which he definitely noticed. You were absolutely dripping for him, and the fact that he made you feel this desperate made his chest swell with pride and a smug smile appear on his face. Acting as if he wasn’t a virgin.

“Do you want me to touch you here?” He said smugly as he lazily rubbed circles on your clit. This caused you to squirm underneath him with your clothed cunt rising to meet his fingers. He was just following his instincts and your reactions. Like the way your body shuddered when he touched you a certain way, or the little yelps and whimpers that escaped you when he squeezed and caressed other parts.

“Y-yes… please… I want more.” You begged which was so out of character for you. Your relationship dynamic seemed to have flipped since you’re usually the assertive one while he is more timid and shy when it came to you. But the way he was handling you right now made you melt in his grasp.

If he wasn’t as desperate as you, he would’ve continued to tease you. He enjoys the way your face becomes flustered and the adorable way your eyes look at him when you beg. Not to mention the slight pout you give him which he bets you are not aware of.

Without meaning to, he ripped your pants off your body, unable to control his strength. You couldn’t help but gasp. He gave a nervous chuckle and offered you an apologetic look before softly removing your drenched panties off your body. You were embarrassed to admit that his demonstration of power made you hot and needy all over, wishing he would manhandle you like that too.

You spread your legs for him which earned you a sharp inhale from his end. He knew he had to hurry because with his luck, something was definitely about to happen. But, fuck, did he want to delve in you more. Explore your body with not only his hands but his tongue and mouth too. Make you come undone not only on his cock, but on his mouth and fingers too.

Fuck it.

“Mark stop looking at me like tha-“ before you could finish, his mouth connected with your pussy. His tongue rapidly lapping on your entrance between your folds all the way to your clit. It was a pattern of delving into your weeping hole and sucking on your bundle of nerves. His actions caused your bottom half to twitch and writhe beneath him. The pleasure becoming too much too fast.

You tried to inch yourself up, trying to take a break from his assault, but his grip on your thighs tightened keeping you in place.

“Why are you trying to run away from me baby? Am I not making you feel good? Am I doing this wrong?” He mocked sadness in his tone then continued to suck and lick your clit. Not failing to make eye contact. His puppy eyes meeting yours while his cheeks flared a pretty pink.

“S’too much.” You struggled to speak. The overstimulation on your clit became too much. Your thighs began to tremble and tightened around his head. The knot you felt on your lower half continued to tighten with each of his movements driving you closer and closer to the edge. God did you love the way his pretty brown eyes rolled to the back at his head from the mere taste of your pussy. He swore the taste of your cunt was enough to make him cum in his pants like the virgin he was.

And as if he didn’t even listen to your pleads, he proceeded to insert two fingers inside your dripping sex while he continued to suck on your clit. He curled and scissored them so deliciously never failing to reach that perfect spongy spot. You covered your face with a pillow to prevent you from screaming or moaning. This was an all girls dorm building which meant that being caught meant getting expelled. Not the mention the drama that would ensue from the faculty trying to figure out how Mark made it to the second floor of your building without getting caught by the security guards or cameras along the way.

The speed and roughness of his fingers increased the more he watched you tremble and struggle to keep quiet. His hand and fingers were dripping from your arousal causing his cock to further strain and twitch inside his jeans.

You held onto his free hand that was gripping your thigh as your body went rigid. You were so close that you felt more of your arousal drip onto his face and fingers. Your nails dug into his free wrist as you began to rut on his face loving the stimulation on your swollen clit.

“F-fuck. I’m so close.” Your words came out muffled behind your pillow but he was able to understand them. He moaned into your cunt absolutely in love with the sight of you. His moans and grunts were enough to send you over the edge, squirting on his pretty face as your body convulsed from the pleasure.

He wasted no time kneeling between your legs and freeing his aching cock from its confinement. His face still dripping from a mix of his saliva and your cum. You laid underneath him, limp and basking in the glow of your orgasm. Although you both had been together for a while, this was probably the furthest you’ve gone with him intimately. Sure there had been rubbing, grinding and over the clothes stuff, but you had been craving his cock this whole time, and although you were still sensitive from your orgasm, you wanted him to shove his cock inside you and use you for his own pleasure.

Your heart dropped when you felt the swollen tip of his cock circling and teasing your entrance.

It was finally happening.

When your eyes met he froze, “Are you sure you want me to continue?” Him stopping almost looked painful. You could see the way his cock throbbed desperate to be inside you.

You nodded eagerly.

The way your walls squeezed his tip felt heavenly that he had to stop himself from immediately shoving his cock deep inside you without letting you adjust. As much as he wanted to claim you, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Please… just fuck me already.” You pleaded with tears welling your eyes not caring if it hurt.

A loud beeping noise cut through the air, snapping you both out of your lustful trance. It was a noise you both knew all too well.

“Fuck!” Mark shouted as he fumbled with his pants looking for the source of the noise. Once he took out his phone, he couldn’t stop himself from yelling at the person on the other end, “What?!”

Your eyes drifted behind him to the muted TV. Since you did not get a chance to play a movie, the random show that was playing in the forgotten background was interrupted by a news report about a meteor threatening all life on earth.

A meteor! A fucking meteor?! Are you fucking kidding me?!

Your head fell into the pillows in defeat as you brought your hands up to your face rubbing your eyes in frustration. You knew how the rest of the evening was about to play out.

“Can’t you just send literally anybody else Cecil? I’m kinda in the middle of something.” Mark pleaded but you both knew there was no use.

He ended the call with an annoyed growl.

He looked at you with those pleading puppy eyes. “I’m sorry baby. I have to go.”

“I swear, your boss does this on purpose. Is he spying on us? Can he see what we are doing?!”

“Don’t worry baby he wouldn’t do that… I’ve checked.” He added quickly.

“Out of all the heroes under his payroll, he has to send you?” Tears welled in your eyes out of frustration. You were so close. So close to finally claiming him.

He scrambled around the room for his jeans and underwear while you laid in bed trembling in frustration.

“I know baby. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” He pecked your lips multiple times trying to cheer you up.

“It’s just a stupid meteor. I’ll be back in five minutes. I promise.”

Before you could answer he flew out the window. Papers you left around the room along with other light objects scattered in his wake.

With your luck, it definitely will not be five minutes. You predicted that once he punched the meteor, an ancient alien race living inside it will awaken and begin an invasion on earth. You didn’t doubt that mark could stop it, but it definitely would not take five minutes.

You groaned in frustration as you reached for your night stand. Angrily, you pulled the drawer open to reveal your cute pink dildo. Of course, it did not compare to Marks impressive length, but tonight it’ll have to do.

“Fucking bullshit.” You muttered under your breath as you reached for your phone. As angry as you were, you still wanted to tease your virgin boyfriend.

You, once again, spread your legs open positioning the tip of your dildo outside your tight hole. You were still wet from your previous orgasm, so there was little to no resistance when you pushed the tip inside. You whimpered at the delicious feeling desperately wishing it was marks cock stretching you.

Next, you positioned your phone between your legs with the camera app open capturing the sight of you fucking your self with your dildo. You wasted no time capturing the image and sending it to mark. The caption read, ‘This could’ve been you’ with an eye roll emoji. You had never sent him something so explicit like this before, but you were so horny that you did not think twice about it.

After sending the image, you tossed your phone aside and continued to focus on your pleasure. You thrusted the toy in and out of you but it didn’t quite reach your sensitive parts as Marks fingers did earlier. The room filled with the noise of your sinful wet squelching as you tried to hide your whimpers by biting your lip.

Your mind filled with images and thoughts of Mark as you continued to thrust your toy. The images of his abs, strong biceps, and large cock were enough to make you drip on the bed. As much as you wanted him to manhandle you with his strength and fuck you in any way he wanted, you also wanted to make him whimper and moan beneath you. You wanted to see his pretty face flush and desperate as he fucked you.

Those images were slowly pushing you to the edge. Your orgasm was right there ready to burst, but it just wasn’t enough. As much as it kept building, it never came and it was making you cry with frustration.

You got on your knees, ass up face down hoping the change in position would help with your dilemma. You continued to thrust the toy into your pussy moaning his name as more images of him clouded your mind. Especially all the different positions he could’ve had you in right now.

You were so focused on your orgasm that you did not feel him fly in. He stood at the end of the bed, eyes wide at the way your wet cunt swallowed your toy with ease. The way your cum dripped down the toy and onto the sheets caused his cock to strain painfully against his costume, begging to be touched.

As he enjoyed the view, he wasted no time lowering down the bottom half of his costume to free his stiff cock. He slapped the toy out of your hand and lined his cock with your hole. You gasped as you looked back at him. His mask still on as he didn’t want to waste any time undressing.

“Why do you look so surprised? I said it was only going to be five minutes.” Truth be told, he was struggling with the giant meteor until he saw the image you sent. New found strength surfaced and he was able to punch the meteor into smithereens before immediately flying back to your dorm, ignoring whatever Cecil had to say in his ear piece about clean up.

Finally.

He was finally going to claim you as his.

Feeling the way his girthy tip stretched your tight hole was enough to make you drool onto the sheets beneath you.

Mark held onto your hips with such force it almost hurt. He needed something to ground him to reality from the absolute bliss he felt within your walls. Your cunt felt so heavenly to him that it made him breathless, panting behind you.

“O-oh fuck.” He whimpered as he fully sheathed himself inside you. His cock throbbed before he even got the chance to begin thrusting leading him to cum deep inside your walls.

Before you could even question him about it, he slowly began to thrust in and out of you leading his cum to drip out of your pussy and down your thigh. He began to take his time with his thrusts, loving the feeling of every ridge and squeeze your wet pussy had to offer him.

“Fuuuck.” He moaned a little too loud for your liking, but you were so lost in the pleasure to care. You mindlessly began to shove yourself on his cock, setting up your own pace since he was moving too slow for your liking.

“W-wait. S’too much.” The pleasure caused him to slur his words. You could practically hear the way he drooled from your movements. His cock still too sensitive from his premature orgasm.

“I want to cum too Mark. Please help me cum on your cock. I’m almost there.” You moaned.

Your words were honestly enough to make him cum again but he held it in. He decided he wanted to leave you cock drunk in the same way your pussy had him.

His thrusts began to pick up the pace reaching newer depths that had you seeing stars. He consistently hit that delicious spongy part which caused shivers to run down your spine. The buildup to your orgasm came quick, nothing compared to the forgotten toy that way thrown somewhere across the room.

The only noise in the room was the wet slaps of skin on skin and he realized he did not like that. He wanted you to moan louder, to let him know he was doing a good job. His thrusts became rougher and faster which quickly pushed you over the edge. The buildup finally snapping as your body trembled and shuddered in pleasure. The orgasm hitting you hard enough to cause a ringing in your ears and your eyes to water from the intensity of it all.

“Mark~” you moaned into the pillows trying not to alert the rest of your dorm.

He did not like that.

He kept fucking into you bending over you so your bodies were flush against each other. The new position made him fuck you deeper than before. This time he was chasing his own release, proudly demonstrating his Viltrumite endurance.

“I’m going to make it up to you.” He grunted into your ear.

“I’m going to make it up for all those missed opportunities baby.” With that, he gave one more deep thrust before shooting his load deep inside you.

“F-fuck, baby I’m sorry. I came inside again.”

Without taking his cock out, he softly flipped you over so he could see your fucked out expression. Your cheeks were a deep crimson while you looked at him with half lidded eyes, still basking in the glow of your orgasm. The weak smile you gave him made him kiss your face all over. You looked so cute like this.

You didn’t fail to notice how his half soft cock was starting to become hard again inside you. Your legs tightened on either side of his hips as he slowly began to build up his thrusts again.

“You’re so beautiful. Look how hard you get me.” He said between kisses. His thrusts began to pick up pace again.

Without warning, he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and continued his onslaught.

Your nails clung to the back of his costume as the air was knocked out of your lungs. As sensitive as you were, you felt another orgasm build up, more intense than the last. The mix of both your cums dripped down your thighs and onto his, dampening his costume.

You couldn’t believe that this was what you missed out on every time he flew out to be a hero.

“Take off that fucking mask.” You managed to say as he fucked you deeper.

“Let me see those pretty eyes.” You threw his mask somewhere across the room and were surprised to find those pretty brown eyes watery with tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m so pathetic. You just feel so good.” He slurred as his thrusts increase in force. The bed groaned beneath you and you feared he would end up breaking it.

“You make me feel so good. You’re doing such a good job baby.” You moaned into his ear causing him to whimper. Your words caused his thrusts to become erratic. This time you came first and you came hard, spraying his bottom half with your juices.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He mumbled as if it was a prayer before cumming inside you once again. He shudders as he empties himself inside, panting as if he had run a marathon. You felt so full of his cum that your body couldn’t hold it in anymore. His cum dripped out of you to join the mess beneath you. Kisses rained down on your cheeks and forehead before he dropped down besides you. You didn’t fail to notice how his cock was still a bit hard. No doubt his superhuman body was still able to keep going, but you were only human. You’re glad he didn’t push you for more.

“I love you.” He mumbled against your cheek.

“I love you too.” You turned to peck his lips.

“I just hope we weren’t loud.” You giggled.

“Don’t worry. I’ll just fly out and no one will notice I was ever here. They’ll just think you were masturbating a bit loud. Not enough to get you expelled right?” He teased.

You playfully hit his shoulder, but he was right. Just as long as they didn’t find a boy in the room with you, you should be okay.

“Weird how Cecil didn’t interrupt us this time.” You said as you cuddled against him

“That may have to do with me dropping my ear piece somewhere along the way over here.”

“Well you should find it and get back to work, invincible.”

“I should… maybe after another round.”

[ohmygraves]

the first time you and ghost became roommates, he didn't have a lot of things.

he had his essentials, packed in a duffel bag and like, two moving boxes and that's it. he didn't even have his own furniture or pots and pans, so the two of you didn't cook for the first few weeks living together. he seems perfectly content with just living with the furniture that came with the apartment, an old beat up sofa and dirty stained dining table, together with a few chairs and old mattresses in each bedroom. you made it a goal to get rid of the smelly bed as soon as possible, working your arse off to afford new beds for the sake of your back.

ghost, or well, simon, don't feel the need to own too many things. he thinks it's a nuisance, since well it'll be tiring to pack so many things when he needs to move again for some reason or another. even when he stayed in the barracks, his room was always the most bare out of everyone.

you were the opposite, of course. you liked having lots of personal items and memorabilia, or just trinkets that you like in general. your shared flat is full of your items, posters hung up on the wall, framed pictures, potted plants, consoles and books, whatever you have. it felt like the place was only occupied by you, and with how often simon was away on deployments and missions, it might as well be.

you both split duties when he's around. you cook, he does dishes. you take out the trash, he cleans the bathroom. you tidy things up and he'd mop/vacuum it. he insisted that you cook since he's not much of a cook himself (which, explains why he doesn't have a single kitchen utensils in his stuff) and that you're better at cooking than him. he'd gladly deal with all the dirty jobs for you, wouldn't be the worst thing he did anyway.

you and simon get groceries separately (his "groceries" consisting of some type of booze and maybe toiletries, perhaps some snacks if he's feeling fancy), but very rarely you go together with him to tesco or something. you always have to remind him to note whatever things needed to be replaced at your shared flat, so that you don't have to go multiple times just to get a bottle of dish soap or toilet paper.

you two bicker like an old married couple sometimes, because he's a smart ass and would tease you, and you'd get mad at him for eating your things or using your soap/shampoo.

sometimes you wondered if rooming with simon was a bad idea, but he had always made sure to keep your job easy for you except for a few minor inconveniences he did on purpose just so you'd scold him. he helped move furniture and do the heavy jobs for you, and not to mention he leaves you alone, never nosy or get too friendly with you. although at the same time, he expected you to do the same for him.

if he tells you when he's coming back after missions, you'd get him a treat when he gets home, some beer already chilling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks on the counter, together with his favorite takeout dinner (of course, you'd ask for the money back. you're not made of money if you're rooming with someone). some snarky note like "shower first before you sleep, stinky" or "it's 30 pounds for everything, you're welcome".

simon didn't think much of it, but he definitely took you for granted. you're a nice roommate, you two get along, and you're a great cook. you made sure to feed him whenever possible (because you're convinced he'd actually forget to eat when he's alone, considering his groceries as mentioned before), and not to mention you made his masks and balaclava smell nice and clean when you do laundry.

you'd patiently help him sew, teach him how to mend his clothes when he has the time (which is still a funny sight seeing how small the needles looked between his thick massive fingers). he always gets frustrated, telling you that you did a much better job than his lousy stitches that wouldn't even hold up after one wear. you'd sew all tears and holes on his masks and clothes, patch the holes up when you could.

in return, he'd bring some of your favorite snacks home. he always said something along the lines that it was on sale, or that it's buy one get one free, but you noted that he always brought home your favorite things after you mended his clothes, or helped him in some way. you didn't mind, you liked the snacks and it's nice that he shows his gratitude in this way.

you try to ignore the thumping of your heart every time he hands you things while saying "reckon you'd like this."

[signanothername]

What would happens if Dust, Horror or Killer just... died. Like maybe while on a mission.

Some interpretations is Nightmare just look for a replacement through the timelines (but they're not the same like the first one, yk?)

I'm curious on what your interpretation would be.

Nightmare would see it as a big inconvenience, the limits of mortals

Except when it comes to Killer, who can load, meaning if he dies he can get back to a save point, and get back to life with it, it’s one of the reasons Nightmare sees Killer as his perfect little machine, it’s because he has that little death cheating ability, and Nightmare sees it as a game where he knows Killer would always get back to him regardless, he conditioned Killer enough to be sure of it (and he knows Killer is spiteful, he knows Killer won’t want Nightmare to win that game of life and death)

So even if Killer dies, he will always get back, that is, unless Nightmare decides it’s times up for whatever version of Killer he has, and decides to replace him fully, then Nightmares makes sure that death sticks

Murder and Horror are a different story since they can’t really load, so Nightmare would need to replace them, but Nightmare has the habit of observing his victims before kidnapping them, so he will scour around different timelines of Dusttale and Horrortale to look for the perfect replacement, he doesn’t select randomly, he has specific characteristics in mind

So he would replace them, but he’ll try to find replacements from timelines that are still similar to the versions he dealt with before, as every timeline has a tiny bit of difference between each copy, that difference can be significant, or barely noticeable, he usually goes for barely noticeable, unless he decides that the version he had before could use a little adjustment, then he’d go for a version that’s a bit less like the version before it

[gatitties]

War & crack

─Task Force 141 x young!reader

─Summary: some headcanons about your life working with TF141

─Warnings: cliché¿, reader is a gen z

Part two / Halloween special

so... I've been consuming some content about CoD and I know the least about the franchise but the few things I've read have been so good that I couldn't resist writing something too 🫢, sorry if something is out of character since I don't know many things

— You are a threat to society.

— Your parents sent you to the military in the hope that your bad behaviors would disappear, realistically, they were not prepared to be parents either.

— Parental neglect, what a surprise.

— You had many bad influences in your adolescence and free access to the Internet without parental control was like throwing gasoline on the fire.

— Theft, extortion, assault, harassment, banditry, disobedience to authority, fraud, driving without a license, breaking and entering, kidnapping, arson, arms trafficking...

— You had a good record of minor criminal records, the vast majority due to bad friends, but you were already an accomplice.

— Which led you to the fact that when you reached the age of majority, you were enlisted directly into the army without being able to have a choice.

— It wasn't as bad as you thought except for the amount of physical exercise you were subjected to, but you knew how to put up with it.

— Despite being young, in the three years that you served as a cadet, you were sent to many missions, perhaps with the hope of dying since the generals sent you to the front lines of the battle.

— You didn't care, you were feral, careless enough and craving adrenaline, you liked to dance with death in every fight.

— You were the first to run whenever you could to start the attack, after all, all you liked to do was hit, stab or use close-range weapons.

— You lost an arm because of that, you didn't care much because now you have a prosthesis with decorations to your liking.

— Then you were sent to Task Force 141.

— None of the boys expected someone like you, they definitely had a bit of a hard time adjusting to your personality.

— You were a strange combination between Ghost and Soap, going from being a grave to being an explosion of emotions at any moment.

— The first time you saw Ghost you thought he was giving you a side eye and you gave it back to him.

— Later you learned that it's his normal look but you give him the dead look every once in a while.

— Soap and you are not a good combination when you know each other better, he will just give you approval to all the stupid things you see on the internet.

— Gaz might join, but most of the time he just warns you that Price won't be amused.

— Price will look at you like a parent disgusted (but not surprised) by some of your nonsense.

— Confidence sucks, and when you're spouting darkly humorous jokes or about the ways you want to kill yourself because something goes wrong, Price isn't in that boat.

— It's not worth it if you justify it with 'my traumas, my jokes'.

— Honestly, everyone is worried about the number of times you've said you were going to kill yourself for the slightest inconvenience.

— They don't understand most of your current meme references, maybe Gaz, being the second youngest, will pick up on something.

— They were so confused with your attack tactics, because you had practically none, you just jumped in with luck to hit everything you could, which worked every time.

— You will train with Ghost because you are not aware of your surroundings when it comes to fighting.

— The first time they saw your prosthesis they thought a bullet had hit you in the arm, but when you laughed and removed the metal arm shouting 'everything is possible when you're physically disabled' they swallowed their concern.

— You show affection with punches, you punch Soap's shoulder, Gaz's back or Price's side, Ghost... you prefer to communicate with your eyes because the last time you punched him in a friendly way you almost ended up with your shoulder out of its place.

— They can't take you seriously, they really do try but it's impossible, you look like an impulsive teenager who they are babysitting even if you're in your twenties.

— At least it's like that outside the battlefield, you get more serious or focused on the missions.

— Gaz saves your ass whenever you get distracted, which is most of the time, you tell him that he has won heaven but if death wanted to kiss you you weren't going to refuse the offer.

— Seriously, stop with the jokes about your death or depression, Price will get you a psychologist.

— It seems like a joke but Ghost and you end up getting along quite well, it's a quiet and pleasant dynamic, without pressure.

— As with Soap, you know how to adapt a lot to everyone's personalities, as if you were a sponge that absorbs all the likes and disappointments of the boys to get along better.

— You don't give a shit about your own life but you're fighting tooth and nail to protect others.

— Which leads you to almost die once, on top of that, Price scolded you for jumping to try to save them, you didn't care, you'll do it again.

— Squeaks or bangs in the wee hours of the morning? It's you moving the few pieces of furniture in what you can call your own room.

— Someday you'll give the boys a heart attack (Ghost maybe not) because you walk in the dark at night since you tend to stay up late.

— Price will scold you for not sleeping well and drinking so many energy drinks or coffee.

— You will leave random objects in the boys' rooms, like, last time you bought little ducks of different colors and hid them.

— Price denies with a small smile when he sees a yellow duck with a cowboy hat as a paperweight.

— Gaz laughs when he sees a blue duck with an aviator hat in the drawer where he kept his records.

— Soap finds a yellow duck with an umbrella hat next to his bath stuff and fiddles with it when he has time for a long bath.

— Ghost narrows his eyes at the sight of a black duck with sunglasses and gold chains under a pile of clothes in his room, he sighs leaving it in the small window of his room as decoration.

— You are strictly prohibited from bringing any type of animal into the base of operations as a pet, once you wanted to have a raccoon, a tarantula, a snake, you even named a cockroach you saw in the kitchen.

—Just- no.

— So you chose to have a carnivorous plant as a pet, it was acceptable at least.

— You are also prohibited from cooking without supervision.

— You're like a new world for them, but honestly, they wouldn't know what they would do if something happened to you now that you've earned their love.

[twilightkitkat]

OK QUESTION with the one series with the different universe we see how you think the X-Men would react to a similar Logan being so close with Deadpool.

BUT

How do you think our main universe reacts to the relationship especially when they compare this new Logan to the fallen hero?

This is such an interesting question that I thought about it for a while before answering because I wanted to do it justice. Firstly, I want to clarify that my answer takes place in a world where all the X-men are miraculously alive somehow except for Logan (maybe by some time shenanigans or just twisting the plot).

---

The world at large would be shocked to see The Wolverine again, especially after he was confirmed dead and his bones were buried. The TVA wouldn't want the entire world to know about them, and Logan and Wade would probably be the type to never really formally address his existence (since they aren't actually official heroes or a government body).

His resurrection would likely spark a lot of conspiracy theories and people wondering if he had a secret mission where he pretended to die or if he had a reason to stage his death. It's almost like the urban legend of Bigfoot with how rarely he shows up (somehow always next to the same red vigilante).

Aside from the initial shock, the public reception would be very positive. Who wouldn't want to see your childhood superhero back in action again? People would be excited to see him rejoin the X-men only to be extremely confused when he showed no interest in returning to his superhero work (especially when they assumed he either died and came back or was on a mission and so would naturally want back his spot).

As a matter of fact, after initial sightings of him in his suit, he just sort of... fades away. He never really makes public appearances or is involved in much of anything. He looks different than he did before and he always dresses casually. This combined with the lack of media about him after the initial outrage means that he only occasionally gets recognized in public.

(Something he's secretly very grateful for. He disliked being reminded of his past, of a world where he wasn't a failure. Of the version of him that was revered instead of feared and hated. He has to stop himself from flinching sometimes when people loudly yell out, "It's The Wolverine!" He lays low for a while in Wade's apartment, only accompanying him sometimes on covert missions until people mostly stop caring about his existence.)

But more than public confusion is the confusion of the X-men. They heard the truth through Colossus that this Wolverine was from another universe than their own and that he'd helped save their timeline.

(And most of the X-men were very confused because... why does Colossus know this of all people? Why didn't Logan just come to tell them himself? They knew Colossus was in cahoots with this vigilante vaguely from the time he visited the mansion, but they didn't know he was actually close to him. And why did being Deadpool's friend give him exclusive access to The Wolverine and his situation?)

They expected Logan to show up at their doorstep, one day. He apparently had the X-men in his own world, and while Colossus never really elaborated further (despite their prodding) they could surmise something happened to them if Logan was staying here. It's a perfect fit: the X-men who lost their Wolverine and the Wolverine who lost his X-men.

But he never does. At first, they chalk it up to him going on one of his solo trips. He liked to do that—to go out into the wilderness or disappear on some unspecified mission. He never really stayed in one place too long. (It was his personality, wasn't it? He got antsy being tied down to commitment and wanted to be free from everyone. It was fine even if it was inconvenient, it was just how he was.)

But then he never makes an effort to get involved. To reach out to them. He doesn't show any interest at all in returning to his old life or taking up the helm of an X-man again.

This Logan couldn't be all that different from theirs, right? Even if he was a lone wolf type who kept up his guard and acted gruffly, he only really had them. They took him in and fed him and clothed him and he showed up when shit went sideways in return. A perfect, neat, package with a bow on top.

But then a month passes. Then two. And even if he was the type to do his own thing, this was a little ridiculous. He'd just come back to life and didn't even bother showing up?

They all cornered Colossus, one day. Asked him about his well-being and what he was doing. Why he wasn't reaching out and when they should expect him to come back.

His answer shocked them. Apparently, Logan wasn't out on a mission at all. Instead, he was staying with Deadpool at his apartment and just... living there. Existing. He wasn't even particularly busy, he just hadn't visited. When they inquired further, Colossus smiled slightly and said that he seemed happy there. Content. That Wade was good for Logan and Logan was good for him, too.

It was... hard to wrap their heads around. Logan—fierce, closed-off, restless—just staying in one place? Content to just live with someone and accompany them on mercenary jobs.

Since when did Logan prefer teamwork? He always tried to turn joint missions into solo ones, and went out of his way to brush people off.. More than that—Logan, a mercenary? He'd rather pick up illegal work for some extra cash than return to being a hero? To being with them? Why did he decide to stay in a shitty apartment taking shady jobs for rent instead of just staying for free at their mansion? It made no sense.

It all came to a head when Laura (who'd been staying with them but largely kept to herself around the X-men) had her birthday party. They had parties often for the children in the mansion, that wasn't anything new. Except for the fact that the Wolverine was coming. She'd been excited when she mentioned that both Logan and Wade were going to show up (they didn't even know she'd stayed in touch with them).

(Why was the first time they saw Logan at a birthday party for someone else? Were they not enough? They'd taken him in despite his... difficult personality. What more did he want?)

And Logan comes. But he's entirely different than their Logan, the one they remember.

He's more... relaxed, somehow. He looks less hostile and cagey, letting his muscles relax and his head lean back. He looks like a man content with life instead of the guy who ran away the first chance he got, who always had an itch under his skin to move and never stayed too long.

He sticks to Wade like glue. They're always touching, somehow. An arm around the shoulders, a hand placed firmly on Wade's waist, fingers intertwined, legs pressed together. Logan is touchy in a way he never was with them.

And the way he looks at Wade—like he hung the stars and the moon and the sky itself. Even when they try to catch his eye from across the room, to get him to come over, he doesn't pay attention. His eyes are firmly locked on Wade's face, a warmth there (a softness) that they'd never seen before.

Wade gawks at the mansion and its decoration, flitting between Colossus and Negasonic and Yukio, gleefully grabbing some of the food. And Logan stays by his side the whole time, only watching him, murmuring in his occasionally which makes Wade either jab him in the elbow or cackle.

(And Logan lets him. He doesn't even retaliate aside from a grunt when Wade punches him in the arm, rolling his eyes and flicking his forehead in return but entirely content to let Wade at him. The trust there was so obvious it was painful. The familiarity. The warmth.)

The first time Logan takes his eyes off Wade is when Laura comes up to them. His eyes soften as he looks at her, almost imperceptibly if not for the fact that in their memories, his eyes were always hard. Guarded. They could count on one hand the number of times they saw even a semblance of that expression, normally involving Jean or Rogue.

Laura hugs him, grinning as she prattles on about whatever she'd been doing lately. Logan hugs her back, arms coming to wrap firmly around her. Easy affection. She pulls back and Wade hugs her too, spinning her around in the air as she laughs and hits him and asks him to put her down.

When Logan looks at them, the fondness is so obvious it's painful. They were used to seeing Logan show emotion—anger, sadness, fear, arousal. But never softness. (Especially not for a tumor-ridden mercenary and an experiment built off of his DNA.)

The party continues like that, with Logan leaning against Wade and basking in his presence. Hiding in his shadow when he's tired, leaning his forehead against Wade's shoulder.

Until they finally decide to approach them. Scott and Jean hold hands as they approach him for the first time, tired of observing him all night. Storm follows closely behind.

"Logan, nice seeing you man. It's, uh, been a while," Scott smiles crookedly at him. He expects Logan to respond how he normally does. To grin back, insult him, and start up their typical banter.

Like a well-oiled machine, they kept their rivalry going. Logan and Scott would act like they hated each other in public and fight like children over Jean until she inevitably chose Scott (and then it'd repeat). Sometimes, in the quiet of the night or an emotional moment, they'd become more. But that was rare, and Scott preferred the comfortable rhythm they normally kept to.

But Logan barely looked at him, nodded, and then turned back to Wade as he talked about some kid's show.

"Logan, that was a little rude, don't you think? We haven't heard from you in a while, it's good to see you're doing well." Jean lightly scolded him before letting her face melt into a smile. It was meant to be welcoming. Kind.

Scott tightened his arm around Jean. He knew Jean would always choose him, in the end, but it was annoying to see Logan flirt with her. She'd entertain him enough, and occasionally the three would wind in bed together in a moment of passion. But Jean was his, in the end.

Except, Logan didn't react. He just grunted in response. When his eyes met Jean's they were completely devoid of any attraction. He didn't flirt with her or pay her any attention. His eyes were solely on Wade.

It was only when Wade's eyes flicked toward them and he waved that Logan bothered to acknowledge their existence.

"Oh, hey! You guys are the real deal! The original X-men! The ones that took the 2000s by storm and made Marvel a shit ton of money," he rambled. His face was... interesting, to say the least.

Logan snorted. "Did you not expect to see the X-men in the X-mansion, bub?" The first time he verbally admitted they were even there.

"Considering the budget on my previous movies? Fuck no. It was too expensive to even have a good cameo, let alone actually have them on screen for more than a minute to have a conversation."

...What the hell was he talking about? He sounded clinically insane. And Logan was living with this guy?

But Logan laughed, genuinely, and it was like the world stopped spinning. He smiled and his eyes wrinkled, forming crescents. He teased Wade back in response, but they were stuck in that moment.

Logan was never like that. Never open, never soft. He cared, in a distant way, but he never really stayed. (Was it really that? Was it that he never tried to stay, or that they never gave him reason to? That they never gave him the chance before shutting the door in his face.)

But here it was. Physical proof that he was capable of looking at someone so softly. Of melting his hard exterior and becoming someone softer. Someone capable of cherishing the person they loved, of being domesticated.

Because there was really no other way than "domesticated" to describe him. He used to be like a wild animal—all sharp edges, jagged teeth, and razor-sharp claws. He snarled and growled at anyone who got too close and cornered him. He'd drop by for food, but snatch it and run off.

(But that's the thing about wild animals, isn't it? To get them to calm down, to stop seeing you as a threat, you need to be patient. To reach out. To prove you're safe. Did they ever really try?)

And now he even looked different. His hard muscles had filled out with a layer of fat. He looked healthy, like he wasn't just a tool built to fight and gnaw on the scraps he was given. He looked like a person who went home and ate a warm, balanced dinner at night. Who got adequate sleep and had all of his needs taken care of.

They thought that Logan's personality was rough, sharp, and jagged. That he was just Like That, and that it was useless to try to change it.

(After all, the bad boy is just someone you flirt with. Not someone you take him. Jean had said that, hadn't she?

And Logan had told her he could be the "good guy." Tried to show that he was capable of being more than just how he acted when he was hurt and alone. But she brushed it off. They all did.

And yet here Logan was. Soft and entranced by Wade in a way he never had been, even with her. Looking at him with something so much deeper than lust or attraction or infatuation. Looking at him with devotion. Reverence. Complete and utter love.)

But Logan wasn't Like That. He had always wanted to be soft. To be able to curl up next to somebody and trace the curve of their spine with his fingertips. He'd always yearned for a home he could feel genuinely warm in, where he'd be accepted and allowed to be vulnerable even if it wasn't pretty.

He'd only been hard because he had to. Because if he wasn't, the biting words and indifference of everyone around him would cut so deep he'd never recover. Because if he let himself love and be vulnerable with the X-men and they still viewed him as a passerby, as a tool, as an outsider, as just someone to sleep with—he'd break.

But Wade gave him a home. Gave him the chance to finally love and be loved and not feel afraid. To finally relax and open up. To show his emotions without fear of being scorned and to know he'd always be taken seriously. To not just be seen as the bad boy, but as a broken man desperate for anyone to cling to and feel cared for.

He was finally seen as more than just a stereotype. He was seen and loved for he was.

He was used to being hidden. Like a shameful secret. Jean was embarrassed to like him. Scott hid him away during the night and fought him during the day. He was a temptation, but that was it. They'd always choose each other first. Every member of the X-men had their person, but he was nobody's.

But with Wade, for the first time in his life, he was the first choice. He was the priority. He got to eat at the table instead of being fed scraps thrown onto the floor.

Logan thought it was natural to be treated as lesser. To be an afterthought. But with Wade, who cradled his face like he was something precious and was willing to die for him, he realized that he could be loved just as fiercely as he loved Wade. As an equal. As partners.

And so when he saw the X-men, he reacted the same way they had all those years ago: with indifference. With the same detached care he'd grown so used to. He spared them the effort of a few words, of reluctant acknowledgment, but that was it. If they never wanted to look closer at him or care about his needs, it was fine. But he'd do the same.

After all, there was so need to scramble to collect crumbs when he was well-fed. There was no need to look for a shitty room in an empty-feeling mansion when he already had a home.

[xmenloganx]

Between the Lines of Hatred (Part 1)

Hey everyone! This is my very first fanfic, and it's an enemies-to-lovers story featuring Logan x Reader / Y/N . (Who doesn’t love a little enemies-to-lovers banter, right?) I hope you all enjoy.

Background Info: Y/N's in her mid-20s with a healing factor not as rapid as Logan’s, but effective over time. Her mutation, (dreamwalking) grants her the ability to step into and control the dreams of others. She can alter the dream world, uncover hidden memories or knowledge, and even replicate abilities witnessed within the dream. She can also turn the dream into a weapon locking someone inside a nightmare they can’t escape.

Warnings: cussing, sensitive topics, choking, minors please DNI

PS: future chapters WILL include smut.

Between The Lines of Hated Part 2

Summary: You and Logan couldn’t stand each other.

Don’t get it wrong...you were a sweetheart. You’d been working at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters for years before Logan ever showed up. The kids absolutely adored you! you were their favorite professor. And you felt the same way about them. They were your safe haven. A comforting distraction from the harsh reality you came from. A family who saw your differences not as gifts, but as something to be ashamed of. Their words were laced with hate, and their acceptance was something you’d long given up hoping for. So you left, choosing to start a new life somewhere you could truly belong—a place where people were more like you, and where you could be accepted for who you really are. A mutant.

You shared a close bond with your colleagues. Storm, Jean, and Scott felt like family. You were the one everyone gravitated towards, a calming presence who brought a sense of peace into every room. People often said you were the kindest person they had ever met.

So why was Logan the exception?

From the moment he arrived, it was like he was determined to get under your skin. Always a snide comment. Always something sarcastic to say when things went wrong. Even the smallest inconvenience became his excuse to throw a jab your way. It wasn’t playful. It felt intentional. Personal. You’d think a man pushing 200 would have better things to do with his time.

And it was only ever aimed at you. Which quite honestly hurt your feelings.

You’d tried to figure it out. As someone who overthinks everything, you’d replayed every interaction, every glance, every word you’d shared with him from the day he arrived. Searching for a reason. Some moment where you might’ve offended him without realizing it. But there was nothing. No explanation.

You saw how he was with others. The soft spot he still had for Jean...though he’d finally come to terms with the fact that she only had eyes for Scott. The way he spoke so gently to Rogue. How he treated Charles with the utmost respect. He could be kind. Thoughtful, even.

So what had you done to deserve the cold shoulder? The constant disrespect?

Maybe nothing. Maybe he just didn’t like you. And maybe… that had to be okay.

So, life went on. Same routine, same rhythm. You’d get up, set up for your classes, teach your sections, then have lunch in the staff lounge with your friends. Some days you’d check in with Charles, other days you’d get some training in. And at night, your favorite part—you’d make yourself a hot cup of coffee and curl up with a book before bed. Yes, coffee. It didn’t keep you awake like it did most people. It was comforting. Familiar. Like home in a mug.

You and Logan still crossed paths. The occasional “hi” or “goodbye” in the hallways. Polite. Brief. Distant. But in group settings? That’s when the tension resurfaced. Every time you offered a suggestion during mission briefings, he’d have something to say (by being an absolute ass) always cutting, always loud enough to make you look foolish.

You didn’t know what his problem was. But at this point, you were done trying to figure it out.

Present Day

You had just wrapped up your class, answering every last question your students threw your way. With that all taken care of, you decided it was the perfect time to change and squeeze in some training. So you changed into your usual Adidas sportswear and a white tank top, tied your hair back into a ponytail and headed straight for the training room.... But little did you know Logan already beat you to it.

You stepped into the room and froze. “Oh... hey,” you managed, your voice catching slightly as the words tumbled out. You hadn’t expected anyone to be here this early let alone him.

Logan glanced over at you with a smirk. “Looks like someone wrapped up their class early.”

You rolled your eyes. “It was a short lecture, thank you very much.”

He scoffed, matching your eye roll with one of his own, then started walking towards you each step radiating that effortless confidence that always threw you off just a little more than you cared to admit.

“This isn’t the first time your lecture’s run short. Don’t forget, I teach right after you so when your students show up early, it cuts into my time. Now I’ve gotta head to class looking like this with no chance to shower"

You tried to focus on what he was saying, but your mind just couldn’t stay on track. His damn ruggedly handsome face, that perfectly trimmed beard, and his messy, tousled hair, everything about him was distracting the hell out of you.

But what really caught your attention was the way sweat traced down his muscular arms, soaking into the white beater that clung to him like a second skin. And if you were being honest with yourself… there was just something about a man in a white beater that drove you wild and Logan wore it way too well.

You hated the effect he had on you but couldn't help it.

“What do you expect me to do? Keep them in class longer? They could be using their time better like studying for their midterms. So, excuse me for wanting them to actually be productive.”

You say in frustration while crossing your arms.

“Whatever. Enjoy your little training session. Let’s just hope it actually works before you screw things up again.” He walks out.

You stood there for a moment, silent and still, letting the frustration settle. But there was no way in hell you were letting Logan be the one to ruin your day. So you pulled yourself together, pushed the irritation aside, and shifted your focus back to training.

(Logan's POV)

There’s something about Y/N that just… irritates me, and I can’t even explain why. Honestly, I feel like an asshole half the time for being so hard on her. She’s never actually done anything to me. If anything, she’s been nothing but respectful...hell, even kind. Especially when I first got here.

She’s got that kind of presence that changes the energy in a room. Like, when she walks in, the air feels lighter. There’s this warmth about her something real. Her eyes light up when she teaches, and yeah, I’ve caught myself lingering more than once.

You can tell she actually cares about the kids. She's passionate, dedicated. The kind of professor who gives a damn, which is rare. And maybe that’s what scares me the most. Her kindness. Because it’s real. And when something’s real, it’s vulnerable. It’s fragile. And the people I care about? They always end up getting hurt when I let them get close.

So I do what I’ve always done! push people away. Burn the bridge before it even gets built. And when it comes to Y/N? Yeah… mission accomplished.

"Alright, everyone, grab a seat… your professor decided to cut her lecture short, so I guess I’ll be the one picking up the slack."

“It was a short lecture because it was a midterm review,” Rogue chimed in. “She was just going over what we need to study.”

“Yeah! I mean, it’s not like we had anything else to cover might as well leave early,” Bobby added, casually shrugging his shoulders.

“Right… well, some of us professors actually believe in using the full class to teach something,” I scoffed, shooting him a look.

Damn, she really had these kids ready to go to war for her.

Storm happened to walk by just as the words left my mouth. She paused, giving me that signature disapproving glare.

“Logan… might I have a word with you after your class? It’s important.”

“Uh, yeah sure. I should be wrapping up in about an hour,” I replied.

“Charles’ office. One hour.” She said coldly before walking away.

Great. I could already feel whatever’s coming. And it's about to be a fucking earful.

1 Hour Passes - Both Logan and Storm are in Charles Office

"Logan, I’ve been informed that you’ve been speaking disrespectfully about one of our professors to the students in her absence," Charles said the moment I stepped into his office.

I glanced over at Storm, already annoyed.

“I wouldn’t call it being disrespectful...just voicing some frustration,” I muttered.

Storm rolled her eyes. “Oh, cut the crap, Logan. We all know how you’ve been treating Y/N since day one. You haven’t given her a break.”

"Jesus, is that what you guys do? Sit around gossiping about me during your girl time?" I shot back. "I didn’t even say her name."

"You didn’t need to," Storm said in a sharp tone. "It was obvious who you were talking about, especially since she teaches right before you."

“Yeah, well, forgive me for being a little pissed that she half-assed her lectures, cuts class early, and then takes over the training room like it’s her personal sanctuary. In the end I’m the one left to clean up the mess she leaves behind."

“Alright, both of you, just stop—” Charles started, but everyone froze when Y/N walks in, clearly upset.

“Y/N…” Storm said softly.

“Oh, don’t mind me interrupting Logan’s little rant,” Y/N snapped, her gaze locking with mine. “I just thought I’d come in here to defend myself, since apparently, there’s some misleading information being spread behind my back.”

Y/N gaze remained fixed on mine

“For the record, I couldn’t care less what you think about me, my teaching style, or how I run my classes,” she continued. “But one thing I won’t tolerate is you making me look bad in front of my students. So, I suggest you respectfully shut the fuck up and mind your own fucking business.”

With that, she stormed out, leaving the room in silence.

Charles let out a sigh. “Logan, I get that you have your issues with her, but for the record, she’s never spoken a word against you. In fact, she’s always spoken highly of you, especially when it comes to the students.”

Storm turned to look at me. “Exactly. And you have no idea what she’s been through, so maybe—”

“Alright, alright, fine!” I cut her off, rubbing my temples in frustration. “I get it. I’m sorry. I won’t say anything else.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “It’s not us you should be apologizing to, Logan.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “When she’s ready to talk to me, I’ll apologize. Until then, I’m not losing any sleep over it.” With that, I storm out.

Jesus, does she always have to be such a pain in the ass?

(Y/N's POV)

Why did Logan have to be such a dick? I was so done with him. Anger and frustration flooded my mind as I made my way back to my room.

I walked in, flopped onto my bed, and replayed the whole scene from Charles' office in my head. Disappointment washed over me. I knew I wouldn’t always get to work with people I liked, but sometimes, Logan made being here feel downright miserable.

Normally, I’d grab a coffee and settle down with a good book, but not tonight. Instead, I put on my headphones, listened to some music, and decided to call it a night.

Later that Night

I was suddenly woken by groaning and screams coming from next door. It was Logan. This wasn’t the first time he’d had a nightmare since he got here, but this one sounded worse than usual.

I quickly made my way to his door and knocked softly. "Logan? It’s me, Y/N… Are you okay?"

A few students started to come out of their rooms, looking confused and concerned.

"Hey guys, it’s fine. Just go back to bed, there’s nothing to see here," I called out, trying to reassure them as I continued knocking on his door.

Still no response. But I could hear him thrashing around and shouting. So, with no other choice, I opened the door and stepped inside.

He was out cold, completely consumed by whatever nightmare had him in its grip. Given that my powers revolve around controlling dreams, I made the call to step in and settle it down.

Does he deserve the help? Fuck no. But I’m not doing this for him. I’m doing it so I can actually get my beauty sleep and so the kids aren’t up all night because Logan can’t keep his demons in check.

My hands moved carefully to either side of his face, fingers brushing his temples as I let my powers take control. As soon as I entered his mind, I was hit by a wave of agony raw, brutal, and suffocating. It was the kind of nightmare I hadn’t seen in a long time.

The dream was chaos. Logan was locked inside some kind of containment tank, submerged in water. Thick cables and syringes jabbed into his body, pumping him full of some liquid. His bones being coated, reforged. He was writhing in pain, completely helpless. Then came the man behind it all a cold-eyed figure with graying hair and a twisted sense of control. Stryker, his name tag read.

“Erase his memory,” he ordered.

And just like that, Logan snapped. He went feral, unleashing pure, animalistic rage. He tore through everything, blinded by pain and confusion. No wonder he was screaming in his sleep, this wasn’t just a nightmare, it was a memory. Or what was left of one. The whole thing felt fragmented, like someone had ripped pieces of it out and tried to stitch it back together wrong.

I steadied myself, made my presence known in the dream, and slowly began shifting the environment around him. Replacing pain with calm, torment with peace. Even if the memory never happened, I crafted something soft, something warm to anchor him. He didn’t need to know it was fake. I just needed the nightmare to end… for him to breathe again.

In an instant, I was ripped out of the dream and slammed back into reality flat on my back with a heavy weight crushing my chest and a hand clamped tight around my neck. Logan. He’d shot up from the nightmare in full survival mode, claws out, eyes wide with panic.

“Logan! It’s me...Y/N!” I gasped, struggling to get the words out through the pressure on my throat.

His expression shifted the moment he recognized me. He let go and stumbled back, his breathing was unsteady and his chest was heaving like he’d just dug his way out of a warzone.

“Y/N?” he snapped, voice rough. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

I struggled to catch my breath, coughing lightly while rubbing my neck. (Damn, that's gonna leave a bruise...) I thought to myself.

"You woke up the whole damn school with all that screaming," you muttered, arms crossed. "I was just trying to help, alright?"

"I don’t need your fucking help," he growled while raising his voice. "I never asked for it."

You shot him a glare. "God, why are you being such an asshole? You were clearly having a nightmare I only stepped in to calm it down. That’s literally all I did."

"Yeah? Well stay the fuck out of my head," he snapped. "And stay the hell out of my room."

Rage surged through your body as you stepped closer, getting right up in his face despite the obvious height difference. "You know what!?" you yelled, eyes burning with frustration. "Next time, I'll leave you to drown in your own fucking memories and misery. I’ll let you stay trapped in those nightmares, suffering. Hell, I hope the next one’s worse than this one."

You took a step back, and added, "I hope you have a shitty night" and walked out slamming his bedroom door shut behind you.

As you turned to head back to your room, you noticed nearly all the students gathered in the hallway, huddled together and staring at you. They heard everything.

Shit.....

Hope you guys liked part 1! Part 2 to come soon. Comment below if you want me to tag you for that :)

[angeliquexoxo]

"What are they like?" - General Resident Headcanons

PART 2

More hcs of how the residents would act around the mansion!💕

All characters are written according to my au, I don't own any of the characters written here and they all belong to their rightful owners (⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♪

This post may contain mature content such as swearing, talks about trauma, and other stuff you may not too read!

BEN_Drowned

I imagine him having the body of a 15 year old, and the mind of a 21 college drop out who's actually really good in technology and social media. Basically someone who's a genius but decided to drop out because it's just not working out for him.

BEN is really annoying to deal with in the mansion. Not because of his ability to manipulate technology (can manifest in tvs and such), but him as a being. Like you would see on the internet, the boy is a troll. He enjoys witnessing the angry reactions he would get from others- which is why he likes to use Jeff as his go to target.

Since he's a spirit, he could phase through walls and such but since he's a techno-poltergeist, he prefers using electronics and gadgets.

BEN would spend his free time in his room or at the recreation room, either playing video games or watching some kind of anime. But if he's working, he would be stationed at the security office- BEN is the only one in the mansion who can keep track of what's happening in most of the cameras placed all around the mansion.

One of the messiest residents in the mansion. The security office is filled with tangled wires and a bunch of junk food wrappers (chips, sodas, candy, etc) His room is also very unkept. For some reason, he has a bunch of used tissues all along his desk which I won't be elaborating any further.

BEN is really easy-going, really playful too- but again, he's a smart spirit. He doesn't trust too many people in the mansion except for jeff because he knows what kind of fucked up shit they all did. He likes to perceive himself as a friendly guy but also shows to others that you shouldn't fuck with him.

Since he's at cyber security, a lot of people look at him when they need something ordered off online (whether it's on Amazon or on the Dark web) of course he'll do it, but in return you'll have to do something for him in return. It can be as harmless as pulling pranks but sometimes his favors are fucked up like killing of a victim he trolled because he told them to pull up to an address he gave them.

BEN is quite expressive, he's the one who reacts to things the most besides Nina I envision him to show off lot of emotions too. He doesn't know how to hide them well, you can easily tell just by looking at him (I think it's also because BEN is always seen so carefree and positive so it's a no brainer if you notice the shift in his emotions easily)

He acts like a moody teenager. Like I said, BEN is pretty laid back, uses vulgar and extensive vocabulary (would use slang words the most) when something upsets him, he will make it known. Honestly, he'll start to act like a petty and salty bitch when there's a minor inconvenience.

Eyeless Jack

Ej is the mansion's official doctor. He got the position and the proper title after the number of times he would give his housemates medical help after or even between missions. He's also the one apart of cleaning up after fights between residents.

He's knowledgeable to almost all things about medicine, especially info on anatomy and things relating to surgery. I could say he's one of the smarter residents when it comes to academics (he liked science, particularly the biology)

He keeps mostly to himself. He doesn't involve himself in any drama happening in the mansion, not because he's not into socializing with the other members of the mansion but rather because he's worried about harming those around him. Because Ej is a half-demon from a failed cult sacrifice, he now has to live with his craving of human organs and it's said for him to deal with because all he wanted to do is help those in need.

With his cannibalistic tendencies, he prefers having meal time ny himself. The only time he'll eat is when he's out hunting or alone and somewhere private in the mansion- like his room or a closed area in the infirmary.

He doesn't get stressed easily. He knows how to act when there's a crisis. He's used to working under pressure, with him being the most medical knowledge in the mansion and stuff. The only time he'll start acting out is when he's hungry. He can control his anger well when things start to piss him off, but if he's starving- that's a whole 'nother level of danger.

Ej likes to be clean and tidy. The practice of keeping things sterile grew on him and because of that he prefers keeping things neat and organised. However, with him needing to consume human insides- it's difficult for him to keep his stuff clean. You'll need to find a victim, get the good stuff, dispose of the body, etc. yeah it's not a fun process for him.

A really respectful resident. He doesn't use vulgar language except the occasional swear words he thinks there's no need to swear so there's that He gives respect to anyone as long as they're respectful to him in return.

Ej is on good terms with residents in the mansion, not because he's the one healing but because he's not as fucked as they are. Has good bonds with Jane and Hoodie, thinks Nina is a sweet for helping him out in the infirmary while the other residents are just okay for him.

Would spend his free time reading books don't ask me how it just fits him if not then he'll organize the infirmary.

Jeff the Killer

Surprising enough, not as foul mouth as you think he'd be Clockwork took number 1 Jeff still swears and such, but he's not bold enough to say what's on his mind- it really depends if he drank enough beer or not.

Also really gross, his room reeks of alcohol and rot. He has a bunch of dirty laundry and empty beer cans that he has yet to throw away. Jeff doesn't have the best hygiene either. He has a hard time brushing his teeth due to the cut on his cheeks. He would also wear the same white hoodie- never washes it unless he feels like a decent human being and decided to do his laundry.

Honestly, he's a bit of a pussy. It really depends on who he's dealing with. If he's with Cody or some resident who is really introverted, then he'll start acting like he's a tough guy a bully basically. But if Jeff is with people like Jane or even with Liu- he'll start shutting his mouth more. Though that doesn't mean he'll start throw some nasty comment at them.

He's pretty awkward around certain residents cough cough Nina cough cough only because he's not good in emotions, especially if it's something really touchy. He hates the proxies, mainly because he doesn't like being bossed around still follows their orders though. He's on good terms with BEN- sure you'll hear Jeff cursing BEN off but rest assured, all of them are said with love. Thinks Jane and Clockwork are bitches, but really Jeff is just a pussy when they're near him.

His relationship with Liu is interesting. They weren't really close when they were kids- Liu was more favored by their parents while Jeff was the problem child growing up. When they reunited, Jeff avoided Liu a lot, him seeing the stitches he had on his face struck a chord on his heart. He almost felt sorry for him that his until he cut his smile up again.

You might think he's an idiot, I mean, he is, but he has a brain, and he uses it for the most part. Since he's a senior resident, he knows the ropes of going on missions and the kind of stuff happening in the mansion. He may not be the smartest, but he's a pretty good fighter. Has an okay amount of strength and can fun pretty fast. He's trying to learn how to use firearms, a shotgun preferably, so there's that.

Has the strongest gut out of all of the residents. He can watch the most vile thing to ever exist and still have his lunch in his stomach. Jeff also doesn't hold a lot of sympathy, just because he's running this killer game since he was 13. He's often stationed for torturing victims when they need info because of this.

X-virus

He is also an intelligent resident. Very gifted to all things related to science, specially biochemistry and microbiology- since he's centered around diseases and different types of viruses. Cody has some good knowledge in medicine too. Because of this, he's known to be the 2nd unofficial doctor of the mansion.

Unfortunately, Cody gets very distracted easily. Has a hard time staying still, which is why he often fidgets with his goggles. Would end up getting carried away with whatever he's talking about, especially when it's about things he's really interested in.

A lot of people in the mansion found him annoying. Many residents see Cody as a very clumsy kid who's constantly trapped in his own little world.

Cody is in fact the newest resident in the mansion. He came in after Nina after about 5 years? Some members of the mansion still see him as fresh meat though.

Could be one of the most sadistic residents in the mansion. He's known to use whatever deadly sickness he made on his victims. He enjoys seeing how his test subjects victims react to his viruses. Sometimes, he will even snap photos of said victims and name the photo after the virus he used on them. Has at least 1 binder container said photos.

He doesn't have the best living(?) schedule. The boy just wakes up from his desk, conduct experiments on his viruses, studies the results and passes out. He would often forget to eat too, because of this he has a skinny build.

He gets really excited when he's involved in certain missions especially the ones where they go in groups mainly because he wants to show off his creations.

He's only close with members like Toby and Nina, the only reason why is because they are the only ones who can tolerate him and his interest in viruses. Jane, Helen, and Liu have neutral feelings towards him while Clockwork, Jeff, and Ben simply find him irritating.

Kagekao

Kage is an asshole. Because he's the only supernatural being who's not a big wuss, he simply thinks he's better than everyone. He likes to make the other residents stupid a lot. He doesn't think he's better than everyone though, he's very much aware of the flaws he has but in certain if not most situations- Kage has the upper hand.

Knows some secrets about the other residents. He's a very sneaky demon- he knows how to hide himself very well. Because of this, there are times where he would come across residents doing something they shouldn't or overheard private conversations.

Surprisingly a very easy guy to talk too. He doesn't go against most of the rules in the mansion and listens to the proxies. However, every time someone asks him to do something- whether it's a small favor or not, he wants something in return.

Very chill but because of his attitude a lot of people don't like hanging out with him. If you do hang out with him though, most of the time you guys are just gonna end up drunk.

Not a light weight, he's able to consume a lot of red wine in one sitting. He doesn't enjoy other drinks, wine is the only drink he'll only enjoy. If there's no wine then he'll simply leave.

He likes hanging out with Sully a lot. For him, Sully can match his energy very well. Kage enjoys hanging with Liu too. He doesn't interact with his other housemates but he enjoys making Jeff feel like an idiot.

He has the ability to shape shift and climb on walls and ceilings. He enjoys staying in high places like roof tops or beams of high ceilings. He doesn't shape shift too much mainly because he hates the feelings of turning himself into something that's not his usual body.

He prefers killing his victims off quickly than taking his time. He will slow his pace when his victim is attractive. Many times he would hold conversations with many women, sometimes having wine with them before offing them.

I'd think Kage would have good charisma levels. He knows how to make women blush and stutter which is why he chooses them as his go to victims. Despite making girls fall into their knees with simple words, he doesn't have the interest in dating anyone and no there hasn't been a time where he hooked up with any of the girls he had killed

Took some time to finish this post. Many things are happening in school, I have exams next week and we also have a school event where we need to make a costume for our representative :'>>>

But we'll have an academic break after this week so I'll probs post more?

Thank you all for the hearts and reposts on my last post 😭 hopefully y'all enjoyed this one too! 💕😘✨

[notanactressyayy]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary . two girls with a pure heart and the will to do the best things in the world, but forced to do the one they would never dream of doing.

warnings . red room, suicidal thoughts (lmk if i have to add more.)

notes . i'm sick, got a really bad flu — and those are somehow the only times i get inspiration to write (also when depressed <3) this one goes through red room era, so both Nat and reader are little. english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors.

divider credits: @iwonbin, @iluvrei

your 'parents' had left. they went to the store, so the house was all yours. Natasha was curled up on the corner of the couch, watching intently the movie playing on the television screen. her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, eyes narrowing at the screen. you could tell she wasn't watching the movie. she was paying attention to the actors performance, how they expressed their emotion, how they behaved in front of the cameras.

"you'd want to be an actress?" you ask softly, making her jump slightly, breaking her trance.

"maybe." she simply replies, shrugging her shoulders. she sighs and leans back against the backrest, grabbing the remote and fidgeting with it. "you?"

"i think it would be fun." you giggle, eyebrows raising as a bunch of little scenarios played on your head. "not necessarily a movie star. just.. be able to show people how i actually feel, you know?"

Natasha hums, a small smile tugging on her lips. it was the one job that was the complete opposite from your daily life — that was what being a spy was like, hide your emotions, hide from people, hide hide hide. from everything. absolutely no one knew you — neither you did, since you had to change identities every year or so.

"i think, you could do absolutely anything you ever want to do." she says, pointing her finger at you. "if you become an actress, i will be in your every premiere, watch all your interviews, and be the first one to buy the tickets for your movies,"

you laugh, playfully slapping her finger away. "you smartass,"

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

silence filled the house as everybody went to sleep, except for you and Natasha, of course. you always stayed awake late, even if one of the rules was go to sleep at 8:30pm. you both jumped out of bed quietly and hurried to open the blinds, so you could see the starry sky.

"do they really think we're asleep?" you inquire with a smirk, sitting down on the cold tile floor and patting the space between your legs.

Natasha sits down with you and carefully leans her weight against you, her head on your chest. "if you keep shouting like that they might figure it out."

you shake your head at her sarcasm and chuckle. your eyes drift to her hair, the pink strands illuminated by the moonlight. you carefully grab a few of them and begin braiding them. "when are you going to Ohio?"

and when she was about to relax, you ask the most inconvenient question in the most inconvenient time. why did you have to bring up that? Ohio was not a mission like this one — she'd meet other widows, future widows, you weren't gonna be there. and she didn't want to be away from you.

you notice how she stays silent, and decide not to push. you finish the two little braids on her short hair and coaxes her head back to your chest, arms wrapping around her.

"do you think," Natasha begins, quietly, as if this was a topic she'd like to avoid. she gulps, eyes locked on the twinkling stars. "do you think we would be happier if we weren't here?"

the question wasn't direct, but you understood perfectly. being a normal girl meant never being in the red room, which meant never meeting each other. that was a tough one, but the answer was obvious.

"yeah," you nod, shrugging, pondering. "you know, Natalia? i think that even if we were born in different families, somehow the universe would find a way for us to meet."

she smiles, feeling a warm, fuzzy feeling in her chest. something rare. something that didn't happen often. it quickly faded, but she appreciated that. "i hope so. because right now? i'd throw myself down this window if i could."

"so would i," you chuckle humorlessly. the life of a widow would never end up with joy, you both knew what you were submitted to.

she shifts her body, pulling her head back a little to look in your eyes. she didn't have to speak for you to understand. gratitude, longing, pain. "moya malenkaya zvezdochka, (my little star),"

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

"we're leaving!" you yell, a smile on your face as you watched Natasha finish adjusting her white dress. she wore black chucks and her hair was down. out of every style she ever played, this was the one you most liked. dresses.

"where are you going?" your 'mom' asks, her smile widening as she sees her daughters all dressed up.

"just riding our bikes!" you answer, putting your hair up on a ponytail and putting your shoes on. "we're not going too far, promise!"

"okay! come back before five!" the woman answers as you run out of the house, grabbing your bikes and hopping on them.

"—back before five," Natasha mimicks her with a silly face and a high pitched voice, coaxing a laugh out of you. "we know mom. you tell us that every freaking day."

and with that, you both go pedalling to downtown, which was yes, a little too far from home. Italy was very beautiful, sunny, full of joyful people around. sometimes you hated that. Natasha suddenly stops as you pass through a little flower shop. it was tiny, and the grandpa behind the counter seemed kind.

"would Natalia like to receive a flower bouquet today?" you try a rough voice, which made her laugh. you hop out of the bike and run in the store.

"ciao, bambina! (hi, little one!)" the man exclaims, his happiness almost surprising you.

"hey!" you match his good humor and point at a colorful bouquet on a basket. "how much for these?"

"these are 50 euros, but for you, young lady, i can make.. 49!" he laughs, grabbing the bouquet and carefully handing it to you.

you raise an eyebrow at the joke, grabbing the coins from your pocket and placing them on the counter. after he counts everything, you don't even say goodbye before running to Natasha again.

"here you go, malyshka, (sweetheart)," you politely bow and hand her the flowers, feigning chivalry. it seemed stupid, but her smile seemed way too genuine for your liking.

she grabs the bouquet and smell the flowers, a small tear runs down her cheek, which she quickly wipes away. "thank you,"

you nod, a little heat creeping up your cheeks. you would never receive flowers, neither from a romantic partner, nor a relative — that was for sure, so you did it, even if it wasn't real.

oh, how much she wanted to say the three forbidden words right now.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

it was raining, heavily.

the time was approaching. the time..

the time for the Sicily mission was almost over. general Dreykov, along with his soldiers would soon be there to retreat you, just like the police. it was always like that.

"come on!" Natasha calls, extending her hand for you as she steps out of the house. "we got to go,"

"gonna get a cold, Natalia," you laugh, grabbing her hand and stepping out as well. you immediately got drenched in water, shivering from the coldness.

"are you scared?" she mocks, shaking her head.

pink droplets of pink hair dye fell down the concrete ground, a colorful contrast of what it used to be. her hair would soon be blue. you didn't like that.

"where are we going?" you ask, running with Natasha as she took off the yard, leaving the household.

"anywhere," she yells back to you, running across the sidewalk, as you followed behind. you rolled your eyes slightly, shrugging.

as you ran, the cacophony of the city could soon be heard. probably your parents would realize you weren't home and call the cops or something. but that didn't matter. not when you were both trained spies. you found a small park — which was empty due the rain — and sat on one of the benches.

"i don't know if we'll meet again after this," you say quietly, finger traveling upwards to tuck a strand of pink behind her ear. "you're going to America. i'm returning to Asia. and the chance of us being paired up again is so small—"

"i love you," she interrupts, voice weak and almost tired. "gosh, i always wanted to tell you that."

your eyes widen, a mixture of foreign emotions filling your being at her confession. "i love you, too,"

"when we grow up, i'll marry you." she smiles, scooting closer. "and we'll live a happy life. we'll have a picket fence and a birdhouse. we'll have a cat and a dog and probably adopt a kid,"

tears run down your cheeks, blending with the rain droplets. you nod, wrapping your arms tightly around her neck, a hug she quickly returned.

"chertovski nespravedlivyy mir, (goddamn unfair world,)" you murmur against her skin, pulling back to look into her eyes.

"it is," she agrees, placing her palm on your cheek. "it's ironic. i'm glad you're here with me. but i don't want you to. i don't want either of us to be here."

"but we are," you whisper, taking a quick glance to the people around, seeing their gaze almost burning you. "that's how life is, i guess."

and with that, you and Natasha lost each other — having to cling to the memories, to the small comfort they brought.

because a widow never had a happy ending.

to be continued..?

[m3hgumi]

— when you have period cramps

a/n: me at any minor inconvenience: omg more content 😍😍 cramps are hurting so bad and i was thinking about them … ooo the voices THE FUCKING VOICES

i’ll also be splitting the hcs into two parts with other characters so it’s easier to post

pairings: itadori yuji x f!reader, fushiguro megumi x f!reader, gojo satoru x f!reader

genres: fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 853

itadori yuji

baby was so scared and terrified and confused at first

he’s never had to deal with something like this before, having no female family members or relatives

so to say the least he was stumped

you tried to brush it off saying you were okay and the pain would pass until another wave of sharp stabbing pain hit your side

that’s when you told him to get the pain killers cause this was gonna be a Very Long Week

once you explained to him the horrors of being a woman with a functioning uterus, he didn’t hesitate to grab (steal) a heating pad from nobara’s room (which almost led to disaster, thankfully you had stepped in and no damage was done)

he hates seeing you in pain and tries so hard to make sure you’re comfortable

he’ll have you laying your head in his lap, sprawling the rest of you body on the sofa or bed of your dorm, and ruffle your hair as the two of you watch your favorite show or movie

when you’re napping, he’ll try to cook you something to keep your energy up and endure the pain

i bet he tries to look up recipes for meals that help with period cramps

and tries to cook them for you 🥹

even if he’s not the greatest cook, you appreciate those meals better than any craving you’ve had for the rest of the week

megumi fushiguro

he’s gone through this many times with tsumiki before so he knows exactly what to do

prepare a heating pad, stock up on pain meds, get her usual cravings and everything would be fine

though her cramps weren’t as painful (or so he thought, she just hid how painful they were from him) as he found yours to be, so he had to do a little bit more to help you alleviate the pain

including routine cuddles, plenty of kisses, many many blankets, and the occasional peace and quiet for your naps

he has your period tracker synced to his phone so he knows in advance when to stock up on any supplies you’ll need to get through the hellish time of shark week

he’d cancel any plans he may have had with nobara and yuji to stay with you (mad respect 🙏)

he’ll also summon his demon dogs for emotional support, even if it’s not allowed in the dorms (he’s such a real one 😭☝️)

he also has his phone notifications off so all of his attention is focused on getting you through this hellish week (ok but mans needs to catch a break too)

he’ll let you play with his hair as a distraction from the pain

if you ask for cuddles his face will get super red but he’ll oblige after

eventually he’d stop you from consuming all of chocolate and chips that is your cravings and get you to eat an actual meal

he won’t mind if you start complaining or yelling at him about something insignificant (like the temperature in the room being too low) because he knows it’s just the pain talking

instead he’ll pull you even further to his touch, soothing you and hopefully getting your mind farther away from your uterus twisting itself

gojo satoru

for ONCE his sweets stash under his bed is finally useful for someone other than him 🔥

i can imagine teen gojo first seeing you in pain and laughing (geto probably smacked him real good after that)

“wowww women have it SOOO hard 🙄” “OF COURSE YOU WOULDNT KNOW YOU ASSH-“

he has everything stocked up and ready for that time of the month: from pads to heating pads to pain meds (lots of them) and most importantly SO MANY SWEETS

he definitely uses this time of the month as an excuse to go out and buy an exorbitant amount of candy that will most definitely leave the two of you with diabetes

he’ll also bail out on any meetings or missions (except the ones with his students, he can’t leave them) so he could stay with you

if for any reason he can’t be physically be there, he’ll be on speed dial or he’ll get nanami or shoko to keep you company

you tell him not to worry and don’t bother staying since the pain will pass on its own and isn’t really anything to worry about, but he insists anyways

when he’s not busy he’s either cuddling you or having you wrapped around his arms, passing the time by watching his shitty collection of movies or any of your favorite shows

he’s definitely gonna feed you the giant chocolate cake he bought from the bakery down the street (and feed himself some ofc)

since gojo is just a giant pillow anyways, falling asleep on him isn’t much of a problem, even if your insides are attacking you with the worst pain ever

i’ve mentioned this in hcs before but he ABSOLUTELY has a whole album of pics where you’re sleeping on his shoulder or lap, cuddles are not excluded

(ok this is getting too long i should stop)

[discotenny]

Lost you once

Chapter 1 ~ All there is, is you and me Where things go wrong following the escape from Sae's palace.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

Under the colorful fluorescents of Sae’s casino, all Ren can look at is you. 

In all your beauty, in all your grace, you dance above the lights with a smile that makes his heart flutter. Your presence shimmers like your blade as you fight your way through shadows. It shines like the chandeliers you swing from. As you intentionally put on a show, Ren almost feels jealous at how many eyes widen at your appearance. 

“Joker, stop staring at them! You need to keep up your own pace or you’re not getting out of there!” 

Futaba’s voice comes through his communicator, a warning lacing her teasing words as she alludes to the true plan he needed to carry out. Before the others could question her statement, Ryuji’s obnoxiously loud laughter pierces his ears. He can slightly hear Ann tell him to shut up but by then, Ren has already turned his eyes to look at you once more. 

Ren sees you giggle and send him a wink, blowing a kiss that he catches with his hand. As the large group of shadows you fight look over towards his hiding place, you take advantage of their distraction. 

“PERSONA!” 

Pandora’s Box- a myth said to hail from Ancient Greece. Pandora, the first woman ever alive, was blessed by the gods with gifts to guide her path. Among beautiful clothing, shining pearls, and wonderful musical sound, it was a singular box that took the attention of the girl. A gift she was warned not to open. And coupled with her innocently curious nature, it was a recipe for disaster.

The shadows dressed in suits laughed at you. After all, could you even fight with such an inconvenient persona? To them, it seemed you were better off fighting with your blade than some cumbersome box. 

Ren could see it in your eyes. The anger and the fury of being underestimated yet again. Through all their battles, you were the one that was always targeted, being thought of as the weakest link of their party. But time and time again- you would prove your worth and show it was a mistake to underestimate just how much damage you could do.  

When you first unlocked your persona, the thieves stood confused. No creature, no monster, no mythological being of any kind stood behind you and your new outfit. Instead, an ornate box appeared hovering in your hands. Nobody else could ever open the box except for you, and you wouldn’t tell anyone exactly what was in it either.

You glide your hand over the top, shifting the lid of the box to the side. It leaks out a black mass of smoke that enters your assailants lungs. Wretched coughs lined with the aftermath of your assault filled the air. 

You wielded the element of poison. With the smoke emanating from Pandora’s Box, you were able to inflict continuous damage on your opponents without even directly attacking.

For weaker enemies, the smoke was all you needed to put them out of commission long enough for you to get past. 

The group of shadows in front of you fall to their knees, gasping breaths as they heave on the floor. You walk past them, not bothering yourself to finish them off. You had a mission to complete, afterall. 

You hop onto the next chandelier, pausing as you survey the area to decide whether to jump down to the ground below or maneuver up to the elevated area above. 

“There are too many shadows below you to land down, Silhouette. There should be a platform with an exit door somewhere above you,” Futaba says. 

“Got it!” You say as you climb up the balcony. When your two feet touch solid floor, you turn around to see if Ren made it behind you. He makes eye contact with you and for a brief second your eyes soften and he forgets where he is- focusing on the beauty that is all of you . 

“Behind you, watch out!” Futaba’s voice interrupts his brief daze. Ren quickly climbs up, hiding himself as you turn to face the newly appeared opponent. “This one’s not like the others- make sure to be careful!” 

Your eyes narrow, sizing up the shadow in front of you. 

For stronger enemies, your poison wasn’t the only thing you’d need to use.

Manifesting your persona, you again flooded the arena with your black smoke. The poison begins to take effect, but as expected, the Moloch wouldn’t fall down with just that. It takes the opportunity to blast you with agidyne- which you just narrowly avoid. 

After dodging, you close the distance between you and the shadow. With the help of your intruding poison, you brandish your blade. It only takes three quick strikes to take it down. It cries as it vanishes into a black puddle, emanating a similar smoke as your own persona does. 

“Good job, Silhouette!” Akechi cuts through the communications and with a voice so cheery, no one on the line dares to comment further. Ren almost rolls his eyes at the facade he knows the detective is putting on. 

“Let’s keep moving- through those doors should be a maintenance area,” Futaba says. “Everyone else use escape route B!” 

Several chatters of agreement and acknowledgement follow her words. You turn to Ren and he nods in encouragement, already prepared to follow you through the doors and to the ends of the Earth itself. 

You head inside, going through quicker than you normally would have if you feared being caught. However, you had to. You needed to run ahead of Ren to make sure your opposition was reacting in the intended way for your plan to succeed. Keeping Akechi’s spirit in believing you were on your own escape route was part of it. Setting the stage for Ren to make his grand reveal was what was supposed to happen. 

Supposed to. 

Ren doesn’t know how it went so wrong. 

He was the one that leapt out the stained glass window, grabbing the attention of everyone in the premises. You were the one that took the quiet route at the last moment- through a set of unsuspecting gray doors. 

Ren can’t help but freeze as he stares at the scene in front of him. He can vaguely hear your voice fighting against your captors. He can barely see the outline of you trying to free yourself. He can just about feel your eyes begging at him for help. 

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. 

A helicopter shines a blinding spotlight on his face and he flinches. He can’t move- he can’t think- and every possible voice in his ear but one is screaming at him to run. 

He doesn’t want to leave you there, and all he wants to do is run over and free you from your binding so you can run off yourself- but he can’t. Not when there are other people’s lives at stake, not when it’s not over just yet. The burden of being a leader means he can’t always do what he needs. 

And so he turns away. Away from your voice. Away from the outline of you. Away from your pleading eyes. 

Ren feels sick as he runs off, taking your intended escape route as a few policemen attempt to chase him. He out runs them all, of course. When he meets up with the rest of the thieves, your missing presence is deafening. 

Despite being free, Ren can’t help but feel like he’s lost. 

He was the one that was supposed to get captured, treated like a dog by the cops once more. You were the one bound to the ground- kicked around like you were nothing more than worthless trash. 

Ren tries to keep up the confident facade as he speaks with your panicked friends- reassuring them that everything was going to be alright. They all separate for the night following the short debrief at Le Blanc. The rest of them leave with a hesitant hope that despite the hiccup, their intended plan would turn out and you would return to them safe. 

Ren wasn’t so sure of it himself. Morgana paws at him as he sits in bed- the wide eyed distant stare Ren wears makes the cat question if he was even alive. His hands cover his nose and mouth as he replays the image of you being rough handled in his mind. He doesn’t want to imagine the horrors of what they may be putting you through in custody- but his memories of his own treatment leak into his thoughts and all he wants to do is cry. 

He desperately, desperately wants you in his arms, but all he can do is sit in his bed and sob like you’re already gone.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

Decided to split this fic up into parts because I hate doing constant scene changes in my fics lowk lowk. Also to get this out of draft hell LMAO >:3 I have parts 2 and 3 already written, with part 4 already drafted and partially complete. Be warned this has the unrequited love tag on ao3 for a reason...

[frozenjokes]

mumbo's imaginary friend definitely isn't sentient and stuck in an eternal plight of trying not to be forgotten. scar is fine.

CW: as a disclaimer, there is referenced child death in this chapter, but if you've read the prequel to this fic.. he ain't dead. there is zero violence against children depicted directly here.

ao3 link - Prev/Next

Imaginary friends were a normal, natural part of growing up. Plenty of children had them, manifestations ranging from hardly visible to quite convincing apparitions. Skizz had lived many lifetimes alongside human companions, and at least half of them had an imaginary friend of some kind, one only they could see across planes. Truly, as beings, imaginary friends were some of the most fascinating apparitions on the entire plane. 

Humans were not typically a supernaturally sensitive species, even the most superstitious ones. They simply did not have that sixth sense, not consciously, but it was clear they still harnessed potential for major other-planely connections. Any creature could create an imaginary friend, it was not an rare phenomenon, but it was far more common among humans, with human-created apparitions being some of the most vivid Skizz had ever seen. 

But they were just that. Apparitions. Literal figments of a person’s imagination; imaginary friends were not alive. Cool, of course they were very cool, especially that living minds were powerful enough to bring other beings into existence, but they weren’t— They weren’t alive. It was essentially a five year old talking to himself, just manifested spiritually. Humans could not and did not will new life into existence.

Skizz knew Mumbo would be a challenge. He was assigned to him by chance, of course, but it’s hard not to notice when the baby across the room keeps staring at you, when the toddler is always crawling in your direction, pointing at you— the pointing was what really tipped Skizz off that he needed to start staying out of sight. Mumbo’s poor parents were frightened enough as it was.

Humans who were this in tune with other planes weren’t unheard of, but it was rare enough that Skizz had only heard the phenomenon discussed as myth and rumor. There weren’t any classes on this, no guidebooks he could reference. The angels assigned to Mumbo’s parents were equally stumped, but none of the three of them had really considered caring for Mumbo would be that different. Inconvenient, certainly, but Skizz was not the kind of man that shied away from a challenge! 

His mission had not changed. Guard his assigned human from supernatural influence. Keep the other planes out of his business, so that he could live a normal, human life. If Mumbo could see ghosts, this would require a lot more micromanaging, and gods, Skizz didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do when Mumbo went to school and there were angels everywhere, but—

It was fine. He would figure it out.

Mumbo was a cute kid, an only child and naturally curious. Skizz kept his distance as much as he could manage, but at a certain point it was inevitable that Mumbo would recognize and know him, start asking questions. Questions that would probably alarm his parents if Skizz didn’t intervene. Around two and three years old, Skizz made his presence more known, and was grateful that Mumbo wasn’t frightened during the short periods he saw Skizz around. Skizz spoke to him rarely, but when he did, referred to himself as a friend. When Mumbo really started talking, this seemed to ease his parents’ concerns, if only slightly. My friend with the big wings! Just an imaginative kid. Normal.

But Skizz would not be Mumbo’s only ‘friend.’ Children without siblings were more likely to create their own playmates. Mumbo was no exception.

Besides being one of the more vivid human-made apparitions Skizz had ever seen, there wasn’t anything wrong with Scar. It was cute that Mumbo, a shy kid, had manifested someone a little older, someone bold and loud to help him through early life. 

Scar was good for Mumbo. He helped Mumbo express his curiosity, bolstered Mumbo’s confidence, gave Mumbo someone to lean on until he could find his footing with other kids his age. It was a little incredible how Mumbo had managed to create something so opposite in personality to himself, but at the same time, exactly what he needed. 

Though, Scar did have a couple odd quirks. 

Skizz had never been acknowledged by an imaginary friend before; they were here solely for their corresponding human, not anyone else, so Skizz was bewildered when Scar jumped up the first time he spotted him, scampering over and throwing little punches to Skizz’s stomach.

“Intruder!”

Skizz had curled his wings around himself in surprise, not that any of this had really hurt. He remembered thinking this was a strange reaction; surely Scar had all the same world knowledge as Mumbo did.

“Scar, that’s my friend,” Mumbo had said, not all too concerned with the vicious beating Scar was laying down.

“Yes! I’m a friend!” Skizz tried, raising his arms in surrender, but while Scar paused his assault, he did not look convinced.

“Since when do you get two?”

Mumbo blinked. “Is that allowed?”

“I—“ Skizz couldn’t help but stutter, a little concerned at just how much he was interfering here, “Yes, Mumbo, you can have more than one friend. When you go to preschool next year, you’ll have lots of friends.”

“Of course the intruder would say you can have more than one friend.” Oh dear. (Where did Mumbo learn that word—? Surely he had to know it if Scar did?)

Mumbo shrugged, ignoring Scar. “I don’t want to go to school. I like home.”

“Why don’t you ask your mom,” Skizz suggested, slowly backing away. “She’ll tell you that you can have as many friends as you want.”

“Okay,” Mumbo said.

“Ask your dad,” Scar whispered. Skizz retreated.

Scar was also strange in other ways, acting in a way Skizz might consider to be normal on a surface level, but intuition gave him second thoughts.

Imaginary friends were an extension of their source. They could not extend beyond the walls of the thing that created them; which is to say, personalities, interests, and world knowledge typically aligned.

Skizz had not thought anything of Scar’s opposite personality at first; Mumbo had wanted someone confident, someone to lean on, so that’s what was created. But the longer Skizz watched the two of them, the more he noticed they were nothing alike. Scar was never shy, never quiet, always fidgeting and full of energy in ways that surpassed Mumbo by miles. Scar was confrontational, he was 100% self-assured, righteous, and he was all of these things in such a way Mumbo never had been.

Scar knew things, too, he used big words for someone Mumbo’s age, he was frighteningly insightful from time to time, and there were random tidbits about the world Scar just inexplicably understood that Mumbo wouldn’t have even considered.

At first Skizz had wondered if Scar was listening to Mumbo’s parents talk and picking things up from them, but imaginary friends weren’t supposed to care about anything beyond the scope of their person. It was possible, maybe, but Skizz had never seen or heard of an imaginary friend that was actively learning ahead of their host.

After a while though, Skizz got used to it. Scar was just another figure in Mumbo’s life, someone who faded in and out at first, but began to be more consistent as time went on. Even Mumbo’s parents knew about Scar, mostly because Scar was always demanding Mumbo’s attention, whether that be during trips to the grocery store, movies, school— Around age six, Scar was actually becoming a bit of problem in school, mostly because of how large a distraction he was, but when Skizz called him aside to talk, Scar had listened, their relationship similar to the distant guardianship that Skizz shared with Mumbo.

“What is it..?” Scar had been wary at first, but mostly he was anxious as he glanced back at Mumbo from outside of the classroom, who had just been scolded for mildly rambunctious behavior during story time.

Skizz had sat at Scar’s level, voice low. “Listen, bud, I know it can be hard when Mumbo’s at school, especially since he only stayed for half-days in Pre-K, but he’s a big kid now, and people in the living world have different expectations for big kids. When you’re talking to him during class activities, he has trouble focusing on what the teachers are saying, and that’s really hard for him. He doesn’t want to ignore you, but he hates getting in trouble, too.”

Scar flared in defiance, “It’s not his fault! Why are the teachers so strict? Kindergarten isn’t any fun at all, we can hardly play anymore, and Mumbo has to be quiet all the time.”

“I know, Kindergarten is a pretty big change from last year’s school, but that doesn’t mean it’s all bad. Learning is a huge part of growing up, and if Mumbo doesn’t get the space he needs in class, he might fall behind, and we don’t want that.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Scar..”

“It’s not fair! Why do all these other people mean more than me all of a sudden! I’m Mumbo’s best friend, I should be most important! You and all the other grown ups just want to take him away.”

Skizz pushed away discomfort. This was.. a strange and concerning line of thought, but at the same time, Scar was just upset, he was a kid, and it didn’t matter if he was real or alive or anything, clearly he was struggling now.

“Mumbo going to school doesn’t make you any less important to him, Scar. It only means he’ll have a little less time to spend with you directly, and I know that’s still difficult, but it doesn’t mean Mumbo isn’t going to love you anymore. We just have to balance when are appropriate times to play and when we need to listen to the teacher’s instructions. I promise you that Mumbo will really appreciate it if you sit with him quietly while learning is taking place; I’d bet anything he’d enjoy school so much more if he got to learn with you instead of struggling to listen despite you. You’d have even more to talk about if you listened to what the teacher is saying, and the stories she’s telling. You two can still be just as close as you always have been, and when it’s time to play, you and Mumbo can do whatever you like.”

The look on Scar’s little face nearly broke Skizz’s heart, the anger melting away into something sad and fearful. 

“You don’t think he’ll replace me? There’s so many other kids in Kindergarten. What if he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore?”

A thread of unease twisted in Skizz’s gut, but desperately, he fought it down. He’s not real. He’s not sentient. He’s not alive.

“No. He won’t. Humans need lots of friends to be happy, Scar, and it’s totally normal for Mumbo to want to talk to other kids too. He won’t replace you for anyone else. And if you makes you feel better, none of these other kids are going to be coming home with him every day like you are. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Scar hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay..” Scar gave a tentative glance back into the classroom, where all the students were sitting at their desks, listening to the teacher speak. “Can I go..?”

Skizz gave him a small pat on the back. “Course, buddy. How about you sit with the rest of the class, doesn’t have to be close to Mumbo, but it can. Why don’t you try listening to what the teacher has to say?”

Scar showed his distaste with a grimace, but nodded, wandering back into the classroom to (hopefully) find a seat. Skizz saw Scar catch Mumbo’s eye. They looked at each other for a moment before Mumbo gently turned away. Skizz felt the pain of that in Scar’s heart. 

Poor thing. Scar didn’t get a choice to make other friends. He didn’t get a choice to exist for anyone else.

Scar wasn’t sentient. That wasn’t possible. Humans, even humans like Mumbo, could not will new spirits into existence. 

Skizz still found himself hoping that when Scar inevitably faded away, it would be quick, and he would not have to feel the pain of no longer being needed.

At seven years old, Skizz waited for Scar to phase out of Mumbo’s life. He didn’t, but the two of them were still thick as thieves, and this wasn’t anything unusual. Eight was really when Skizz started expecting things to change, but even as Mumbo forged close relationships with the other kids in his grade, Scar did not fade. He did not even become translucent; it was a very rare thing for any spirit to be fully opaque, but Scar had been this way for as long as Skizz could remember, and he wasn’t showing any signs of blinking out.

Skizz was worried when Mumbo’s ninth birthday came and went, and nothing changed. Well. Things were changing, certainly, because Mumbo was changing. He was less interested in entertaining Scar all day, Skizz could see him trying to pull away, while Scar stuck stubbornly to his side. Mumbo grew frustrated with Scar’s constant demands for his attention, especially when he was with human friends, where Scar, sensing Mumbo’s irritation with him, only clung harder, desperately, too aware that in contrast to Mumbo, who had the entire world at his fingertips, Scar had nothing. Scar had Mumbo. Scar was put into existence to be Mumbo’s. And for some reason, Scar wasn’t fading away.

As much as it terrified Skizz, it broke his fucking heart. What could he even do? 

It put him at ease to hear the two of them laughing from Mumbo’s bedroom. Their relationship was more strained lately, yes, but they were still friends, they still hung out all the time (because Scar wouldn’t leave Mumbo alone), and they still played like kids.

Sometimes Skizz just sat outside Mumbo’s door and listened to them. Sometimes he watched, but Mumbo caught him near instantly every time; the boy had an uncanny ability to tell when he was being watched.

But when Skizz poked his head through the door today, his heart stopped.

“Mumbo, that tickles!”

“You said I could draw anything I want! You just need to hold still.” 

Skizz was already gaping, but when Mumbo locked his arm around Scar’s head to hold him still, marker to Scar’s cheek, Skizz audibly gasped. Both of them stopped.

A moment later, Mumbo shrunk back like he was worried he’d be in trouble, while Scar puffed out his chest, pride shining in his green eyes.

“Guess what I did!”

When Skizz only stared, a blank look of shock etched across his face. Scar deflated, but only slightly.

“I’m not as fun anymore because I’m not real. Now I am.” The intensity of Scar’s gaze was glaring, his tone almost a challenge, as if to say, ‘You aren’t happy for me? I don’t care. You don’t matter, and you can’t stop me.’ Mumbo didn’t seem to pick up on the emotional shift, reacting simply to what Scar had said.

“I never said you weren’t fun, I just—“

“It doesn’t matter!” Scar nearly shouted over Mumbo, voice pitching near-hysterically. “I’m real now, just like all your other friends, and unlike them, we can roughhouse and yell and do other stuff grownups don’t like because I can’t get hurt!” Mumbo sensed the animosity and shrunk away, and Scar’s distress doubled in response. “Aren’t you happy!?”

It took an astronomical amount of energy and power to breach planes of existence. Angels could do it in short bursts, and some demons as well, though typically that was a power reserved for spirits of great strength. Ghosts almost never could unless they existed on borrowed power, and again, their reach across planes was only ever in short durations, or extremely erratic. You didn’t just. Suddenly exist in two planes. You could not ‘become real.’

“Can other humans see you?” Skizz managed, breathless.

“No.” Scar mumbled, but he was irritated now, his angst turning on Skizz in full force. “But it’s only a matter of time. I’m gonna go to school too, I’m going to do everything Mumbo gets to do. What? Is that not allowed?” Scar was snide, while Mumbo shuffled back, frightened by the sudden change. Skizz didn’t blame him. When Scar spoke, it sounded like a threat.

“I— Of course you can.. I’m just shocked, is all, Scar, I’m not upset with you. I’ve never.. seen this before. How.. Are you always solid? Can you choose whether or not you want to interact with the physical world?”

Scar eyes Skizz skeptically, but relaxed a little at the explanation. This was a sensitive subject, clearly, Skizz would have to handle this with more grace in the future. 

“I can do whatever I want.” Scar said simply, plucking a marker off the floor and twirling it in his fingers. In the next instant, it fell through, and he caught it with his other hand.

“Oh.. Good. That’s good.” Skizz was pretty sure that was good. Good at least that Scar wouldn’t accidentally run into people who couldn’t see him. For now. “How.. Do you know how you did this? I’m just trying to understand.”

Scar narrowed his eyes. “I wanted it.”

Skizz pursed his lips, trying not to grimace. “You.. wanted it?”

“Anything I want, I’ll have.”

Oh dear. That was. Yeah, that was not good. This was not good. Given the look of terror on Mumbo’s face, Skizz was pretty sure they were thinking similar things here. He didn’t know what to do, or if he even wanted to leave Mumbo alone with Scar at all, but.. He had to consult the other angels. And even if Skizz wanted to act now, what could he do? Scar wasn’t going to listen to him, not now. Scar could probably evaporate Skizz with the level of power he was using to live in two planes of existence.

But this.. Scar wasn’t going to hurt Mumbo. If Skizz knew anything, he knew this was true, and in the meantime, Skizz could monitor the situation before jumping to any extreme conclusions.

Scar was just a kid. A kid in a considerable amount of building distress for quite some time.. they just needed to figure out how to manage this before it got out of hand. Right. 

Skizz forced himself to relax, for Mumbo more than anyone, taking a breath, and letting a smile come on naturally. “Well I think this is quite an incredible thing. I’m sorry if I put you on the defensive, Scar, I will try to explain to you some other time why this is so extraordinary. For now, I feel like I’ve interrupted. Please, continue, have fun.”

Scar did not take his eyes off him as Skizz ducked out of the doorway, walking back down the hall. Scar was on edge, and would be for a good while, Skizz was sure, but that would just have to be okay. Skizz could only hope that this incident didn’t cause too much strain on Mumbo.

…

Scar didn’t get it, he didn’t like this, and he didn’t believe Friend when he said ‘it was okay!’ and ‘he was just surprised!’ because Friend hadn’t looked at Scar like this was a good thing, he looked at Scar like he was scared, like Scar didn’t deserve this. Like Scar didn’t deserve to be Mumbo’s best friend, Scar was a very good friend, much better than anyone else, especially people who call themself ‘Friend,’ like really, how untrustworthy could you be? That’s like calling yourself Tony or Eddie or some other stupid name, those were not trustworthy names, but when Scar brought this up to Mumbo, Mumbo just got mad.. (it wasn’t Scar’s fault all Mumbo’s friends had bad names)

Scar didn’t understand. He didn’t.. he just wanted to be real. Sorrow gripped his heart as deeply as the desperation, so overwhelming, it might have swallowed him if not for Mumbo’s presence, Mumbo who.. looked afraid.

Scar stared in helpless disbelief. When had Mumbo backed so far away? Mumbo stared back.

“What did I do?” Scar whispered, voice shaking with the effort. What had he done! He was just defending himself, did Mumbo not see how Friend was attacking him?

Mumbo took a long time to answer, too long, until Scar was certain his insides were going to claw their way out of his stomach just to writhe and suffocate on the carpet like beached, bloody fish. 

“I’m.. I don’t like.. I’m just. I don’t want to be your friend anymore.” Mumbo shrunk away, bracing.

That was all it took. Scar sobbed, his tears thick and hot and real. When they fell off his chin, they hit the carpet, absorbed into it, left a mark, Scar’s mark, he was real, and it still wasn’t enough.

“Scar.. it’s not..” Mumbo reached for him, and Scar brushed his hand away, to which Mumbo lunged over him, squeezing him in a tight hug. So this was how that felt. “I want to be your friend, Scar! I just— I can’t— Sometimes it’s too much. Sometimes you say things, and I don’t like being afraid of you. Of what you’ll think.”

“Is this not good? Why doesn’t— Why can’t anyone just be happy for me!?”

“I am happy!” Mumbo insisted, but Scar didn’t think he meant it. Mumbo saw Friend, and he agreed Scar was a problem. He’d thought so for a while, he’d always preferred playing with the boys at school. “I’m really happy. I like holding your hand and drawing on your face, I like being your friend, I just wish you could like other people too, I wish you had all sorts of ghost friends to play with so you wouldn’t be so sad.”

“I don’t know how. I don’t know how to like anyone else. You’re all I have.”

“No, it’ll be different. When other people can see you, when you’re real, you can meet my friends and you can make your own, everyone will love you, Scar, I just— I don’t want it to be only me.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know. I know, and I don’t care what Friend thinks either, I don’t know why he was being so weird.”

Scar felt his distress boil over, “But you agreed! You think it’s bad, you don’t want to be my friend anymore!”

“That’s not true!” When Scar looked away, Mumbo shook him. “It’s not true, look at me! I want to be your friend. I just— I need you to promise you’re going to make other friends too. We can be friends forever, but you also need other friends, even if they’re less good friends, even if it’s hard at first. Promise me you’ll try.”

Scar sniffled, wiping his nose with his arm. The tears didn’t stop. “No one will want me.”

“Of course they will! You’re awesome, they can draw on your face without getting in trouble and roughhouse all they want without worrying about getting hurt! Plus all kinds of other stuff we haven’t worked out yet, I’m sure. Please, Scar.”

“You think so?” 

“I know so.”

“Can we still be best friends?”

“We’ll always be best friends.”

Scar didn’t know why he cried harder. Mumbo held on. Scar turned to hold him back, to be held, how had he ever lived without touch like this, without hugs from his best friend. He would never give this up. 

…

“That’s not possible,” One said, predictably.

“I’ve never heard of a thing like that, but I wouldn’t say it’s not possible if it.. just happened,” said The Other.

They had never exchanged names, the three of them. It was not necessary to do so, they rarely spoke as their jobs were to watch, not chat, and true names were not something to be given willy nilly anyway. That’s what they were taught, anyway. Skizz was old enough to guess that was intentional, an arbitrary rule to keep angels from making connections on the job, but he did not have the time to concern himself with ethics.

“I’d like to see it for myself,” One grunted, glancing at their human. They left without another word, not responding when Skizz told them to be careful and quiet. 

The Other pursed their lips, pushing a fist into their chin as they thought. “It is strange that Scar has not disappeared yet, or even shown signs. Mumbo has been trying to draw away, correct?”

“For a while,” Skizz sighed, defeated. It felt good to have someone else consider this, think about the problem, when he’d had to do it alone for so long.

“I had a stubborn imaginary friend, once,” The Other said, “Less to do with the apparition and more with the child’s attachments. They don’t choose to stick around, they’re not.. well, sentient. I waited until eleven to dispel it, but if this one has potential to be dangerous, maybe now is the time.”

“What if Scar is sentient?”

The Other’s face hardened. “It’s not. Is this your first position?” The question was not pointed, but Skizz still bristled.

“Of course not! I don’t suggest something like that for no reason.” 

“Imaginary friends can be just as emotional and reactive as their human counterparts. It’s not a sign of sentience, they are only borrowing from their host’s consciousness.”

“Scar is more than Mumbo. They are entirely different kids, and Scar is— I’ve never seen an imaginary friend as stubborn and volatile as this. Scar does not just ‘want’ to be a playmate by some kind of instinctual drive, he wants it like— like a human wants. He told me just now he wanted to interact with the physical world so badly that he just can now. That is not normal.”

“I’m not saying it’s normal. Clearly something has corrupted this spirit, causing it to mutate. I’ve never heard of such a thing happening to an imaginary friend, but I’ve never heard of them manifesting in this way either. It can happen to humans, angels, and the like, so why not? If sentience lives in that apparition, it is surely evil. It must be killed.”

“Scar isn’t evil.”

The Other’s expression cooled. “You’re attached. I fear you’ve been tricked.”

“How is this the only conclusion you’re able to come to? What if this has something to do with Mumbo’s—“

“That thing must be killed, immediately.” One phased through the ceiling, expression grave. 

“So it’s true,” said The Other, too calm, how could they be so calm!?

“You said you believed me!” Skizz bristled, unable to do much else but whip accusations around.

“I do.” Their attention shifted ruthlessly away, entirely to One, “We think it’s possessed. That’s how it’s persisted after Mumbo lost interest, and how it has started to enter the physical world.”

“It’s not just starting,” One growled, but their feathers were stiff with alarm. “It’s here. If that’s a demon, it’s the strongest I’ve ever seen. You don’t just cross planes the way it has done, there is something wrong with that spirit.”

“Maybe that’s why we can’t detect its true nature; it’s disguised itself too well,” The Other suggested, thoughtful, “You know, it’s always been a peculiar thing. Too bright, too much of the time. Maybe it’s been a demon all along. Perhaps it intends on raising a host for its own purposes, and has chosen to hide in plain sight. No wonder it got upset when you caught it in the act.”

“In the act of what!?” Skizz strained to stay quiet lest the two children hear the three of them from upstairs, “Mumbo was drawing on his face, they were laughing, having fun, it was perfectly innocent!”

One raised an eyebrow. “I thought the both of you agreed.”

“He’s in denial. Attached. It’s been nearly ten years, be kind.”

“I’m not— You two are jumping to conclusions.”

The Other shook their head, uncaring, “Our theories are no more ridiculous than suggesting an imaginary friend naturally developed sentience. Honestly, it doesn’t matter what reality is, that spirit has to go.”

“How could you say that!? Of course it matters!” Skizz could not believe what he was hearing, this was— did they not realize what they were suggesting!? “If Scar is sentient, which I am most qualified to determine, then you’re suggesting I murder a child.”

One whirled on Skizz, eyes blazing. “If you refuse, then I will. I won’t let your poor judgment endanger the entire household.”

“You’ve spent the most time with Scar, yes, but your determination is clearly clouded by attachment. You can’t be trusted to make this call.” The Other shrugged, almost apologetic. Not convincing enough. “I think we should all take part. We can use the moon as a conduit for a smiting; it’s almost full. We want to make sure that whatever this is, it dies.”

“Fine. Let’s go then, now. I don’t want to wait until it deduces we’ve found it out.”

Skizz choked on the realization that this was going to happen. That he could not stop it. Maybe he could reach Scar before them, warn him, but what then? Scar couldn’t be any older than eleven, and mentally he was no more mature than Mumbo, not to mention, entirely dependent on him. Whatever Scar was— he could not exist on his own. Physically, maybe, but..

“No. Leave them.” Skizz could barely force the words out. “If we make a scene, we’ll traumatize Mumbo. And Scar will know something is up if you two show up to address him, don’t be stupid.” Skizz bit his lip. What was he supposed to do. What could he do?

One stopped, at least. “Fine. You���ll lure him out tonight, then. After Mumbo is asleep.”

“You will.” The Other spoke firmly, knowingly. Skizz couldn’t imagine how miserable he looked, and it couldn’t be more clear how little either of them cared, One stomping off to be closer to their human, and The Other turning away. “Let us make this decision for you. None of us want anything bad to happen to our assignments. If Mumbo has been trying to pull away for a while, then dispelling this imaginary friend will be best for everyone.”

What could he do?

Skizz stood, staring, until The Other went to their human, abandoning him in the hall. Neither of them said anything when Skizz trudged to the stairs, head hung and wings dragging behind him. Apparently they weren’t worried about him conspiring with demons. 

Skizz spent the rest of Scar’s life sitting outside Mumbo’s closed door.

He did nothing.

…

Skizz had never been to hell before. It was.. about what he expected. Fire and brimstone, the screams of the damned, rot smell and sulfur and smog clouds too thick to see through, much less breathe in. It was heavily discouraged to visit hell for a variety of reasons, all of which Skizz understood, but this was exactly why he was here.

Despite the distant noise, it was.. far quieter than Skizz expected. Not peaceful, no, the stank was thick enough to gag on, but not very populated either; maybe this was a particularly uninhabitable section of land, outskirts of some sort. Maybe that was a good thing. Skizz didn’t want to attract too much attention.

He just.. Well, he didn’t quite know. Hopefully he wasn’t ambushed by hell rats before he found out.

He walked. He was stuck between urgency and grief, one of which drove him forward in a hurry, and the other kept his feet dragging across the jagged red rock. He had a home to return to. A home that deserved better than he. 

Skizz stopped when he came across railroad tracks. Did they.. have trains in hell? Perhaps they used them to run over damned souls; would a body feel the pain of their destruction over and over again? Skizz did not honestly know the mechanisms of hell’s cruelty.

He followed the tracks.

Maybe he’d gotten lucky to find their baron so soon. The silhouette of the train loomed dismally though the red haze, magnificent as it was terrifying. Closer inspection revealed a shining black matte steam train that looked like it could have been ripped right out of the 1920s, sleek and impractically large, at least four times Skizz’s height.

In comparison, the demon dozing at the wheels looked like it could fit in the palm of Skizz’s hand. He turned out to be person sized and reasonably more intimidating when Skizz got close enough to stand over him. Sure, not very threatening asleep, but this was his domain, not Skizz’s, and Skizz was about to do something very stupid.

The demon screamed when Skizz prodded him, granted, a little harder than necessary, and also granted, Skizz was 6ft with wings that made his silhouette giant. It did humanize the demon enough to make him less scary. Skizz probably seemed less scary in return after the demon whipped a wrench at his head, sending him flailing with a loud yelp.

But the demon did not give chase, did not attack, and Skizz did not retaliate, leaving the both of them at a brief loss for words as they stared each other down.

“You’re not dead. Or cast out.”

“No,” Skizz said, “I’m not.”

“Your heaven can not reclaim your soul if you die here. You should leave before you’re eaten alive.”

Skizz pursed his lips. Took a breath. “I’ve done something. Horrible. I don’t think heaven should claim me.”

“Oh,” the demon sighed, more relieved than he ought to be. “You want to die. Great. Good, I— Well, when angels visit, they typically have a pension for ‘cleansing.’ If you change your mind, I’m just trying to fix this train. Totally out of the way of the bad stuff, pinky promise.”

“I don’t want to kill you. Or myself.”

“Oh. What do you want, then?” Suspicion clouded the demon’s yellow eyes, which Skizz figured was reasonable.

“Do you have a name?”

The demon narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“I’d rather not confess my crimes to a stranger.” Skizz wrung his hands. The way the demon watched him was so much like Scar that Skizz could have puked. Maybe the demon saw Skizz’s hurt.

“You first.”

“Skizz.”

“You can call me Impulse.” He spoke deliberately, intentionally, and Skizz did not have the energy to be offended. 

“I just want to know what’s going to happen to me.” As much as Skizz tried to keep it together, his voice broke. “I killed someone. A kid.”

Impulse stared for a moment. “Ooh, yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

“I know!” Skizz snapped, unable to help himself. “So what am I in for?”

“Ohh, I don’t know,” Impulse put a fist to his mouth, eyes squinting in thought. “Are you a Christian angel? Those are some of the more human-like ones, depending on who you ask. What denomination?”

“I— My ancestry is Judeo-Christian, yes. This is hell, a Judeo-Christian afterlife, is it not?”

“Oh, man, I mean, yeah, partially, but hell isn’t exactly an original Christian concept, all sorts of spiritualities have a ‘hell,’ and we kind of share the real estate. Is the ‘good’ afterlife not a mishmash of everything?”

“I— No! What the hell?”

Impulse nodded sagely, “Ah, that makes sense why you all are so war driven and preachy. We don’t really do that. Well. That’s a lie. Haven’t in a while, though, there’s enough endless environment for everyone. Demons don’t really come back to life in the way you guys can, so like.. we aren’t trying to get into it with turf wars.”

“Angels aren’t ‘war driven,’ you’re being exaggeratory. We have warriors, obviously, when you’re defending your position of the True God, other deities get upset—“

“Yeah, that doesn’t exist down here. We don’t care.”

Skizz crossed his arms. “Extremely strange, but I suppose that’s on brand. Somewhat. You have no reason to fight over gods in a godless land.”

“Sure.” Impulse shrugged Skizz off, but before Skizz could butt in, he continued. “Well, I’m not really in the business of the torture district, but if you wanted to die in hell for whatever reason, you’d probably be in for.. I dunno fifty or so years of creative suffering? More or less depending on denomination and circumstance; some districts are more strict.”

Skizz stared. He stared for a long time, and Impulse didn’t seem to care, picking up his wrench to fiddle with it.

“Fifty years. That’s— what?”

“Oh, you being an angel might change things. Similar timeframe maybe, but a lot of people down here really don’t like you guys since, you know, all the random massacres. I don’t believe torture methods usually involve renouncing your faith anymore, but you might be forced to do some particularly humiliating things. Sorry. I would not recommend killing yourself in hell.”

“What happened to being tortured for eternity!?” Skizz threw up his arms, to no reaction from Impulse but silence.

Silence. More silence.

“I think your hell textbook might be outdated by about two thousand years, bud. We stopped doing that ages ago. A lot of the violent stuff was phased out as well, though there are absolutely cases where if it fits the crime..”

“What do you mean you stopped torturing people for all eternity!? That’s— That’s like your thing!!”

“Well, people don’t really like being tortured forever, and we don’t have infinite demons on the job.. Demons don’t really want to torture people forever either, like, at some point you want to retire, right? It’s not sustainable. Some demons are really into rehabilitation programs after the initial punishment period is up, so some of the damned choose to try that, while others choose to be dismissed from existence. Can’t be too different from heaven.”

“But— there’s literally— I can hear screaming, a lot of screaming from far away, you can’t just say you aren’t whipping people anymore!”

Impulse blinked, then laughed. “You thought the screaming was the damned? Well, I guess some of them are! That’s just hell’s choir, we do have an aesthetic to keep up with you know.”

“My God.”

“We do still whip people though.”

Skizz put his head in his hands. “Of course you do.”

*

What an odd thing, it was, hell. Impulse kept talking, and Skizz in turn, the both of them sitting in the dirt at the base of the old train, dwarfed by its majesty. How strange, the feeling. Guardianship was a nobel path, but an equally lonely one, and this was not a facet of his chosen occupation that Skizz had ever considered bothered him, but..

Skizz told Impulse everything. Everything, from his first assignment to the distinct way stars twinkled in the darkest parts of the night sky. Apparently there was a lake in hell that had stars. Skizz had never considered there could be water here. When he said so, Impulse laughed.

“I wish. The biomes in hell are more at war with each other than the people, and when the water moves in, it destroys everything.”

What a wonder it was, that demons could be friendly. Impulse must have thought the same about Skizz.

Well.

About time Skizz got back to work, then. It was with an odd pang that he realized he did not really want to go. Did Impulse want him to stay?

He did not have the courage to ask. One short goodbye later, Skizz was gone on sulfur smelling wings.

…

Scar wanted to live.

So he did.

[yan-randomfandom]

I LOVED THE WAY YOU GOT NYX'S CHARACTER! honestly might request more if that's okay with you LMAO ig like nyx with a fairy who's also a scout fairy or something

Yandere!Nyx x Scoutfairy!GN!Reader

a/n; YOU'RE OFFICIALLY MY FIRST FIC OF THE YEAR NYX ANON SJWJES also the way this was back drafted in august 29 😢

The leader of the scoutfairy team—utterly loyal to her people. From what we've seen, if she deems something as a threat, she can be overbearing and undeniably dangerous. Now you just gotta try and imagine if she's devoted to one person.

And you, being that person, can actually handle yourself pretty well. A member of her specialized team of scoutfairies.

You were trained by someone else—it was only then you were transferred to Nyx when your exceptional capabilities were recognized.

Her newfound fellow comrade, soldier, and friend. By all means, you belonged to her.

... Huh?

Nyx is not sure when exactly she started feeling for you. Maybe it's the way your personalities contrasted so perfectly. Maybe the subtle differences in your beliefs, giving her fresh perspectives. Maybe she just likes your company.

Nevertheless, one thing became clear: you're by her side almost every moment of the day.

Going on patrol? You're paired up together. A mission? If not as a pair, you're specifically assigned to her group. Meeting with the queen? Well, you're there as her assistant. Training? You got it.

During a battle, Nyx was sent flying from an impact—only to land in your arms. You carried her with a gentle yet firm grip as you tried to get her to safety.

Now, this wasn't something new. Nyx had done the same to countless other fairies, but she supposed it was rarely done to her.

The feeling of being protected. She never thought that the receiving end of it would feel so... nice. (or maybe only because it came from you.)

Nyx would return the favor. She saves your butt, and you save hers. Hah... Sometimes, she's not even sure if she's doing it on purpose.

You're very much aware of her tendencies by now—that's what happens when you're stuck together like glue. If some inconvenience happens and you're separated from Nyx, you're not even sure if you're worried for her, or of her.

Whenever you reunite, she never fails to seem frantic, panicked, and almost desperate.

You hesitate how to move forward from whatever point you're on. It just feels like she doesn't want you to leave her side at all.

And if you have a near death experience... Trust. You would never hear the end of it .

message for nyx anon: i think ur pretty chill btw ,,, also i think ur the one following my other acc or is that too forward to say . . .. me when im guessing anons fr 😔✊