#back to chewing on cables about him <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

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when will my bride arrive at the altar

*referenced a jesus icon for this

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Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we exit the “enemies” phase, think of the enemies to friends as the match being lit and think of the friends to lovers as the candle taking thousands of words to burn. Chapter title from Homemade Dynamite by Lorde

Word Count: 6.9k (nice)

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Things start to change in the safe house. Contains usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

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Somehow, after the mission, you slept. Not well, but you did. You didn’t see Soldier Boy for almost fourteen hours after that odd moment in your room, only for him to suddenly drop on the couch next to you, watching the newly-fixed TV, holding a bowl and spoon.

“What the fuck is this,” he gestured to show playing on the screen, his mouth half-full with cereal. Crumbs fell into his beard, and he looked at the TV as if it had personally offended him.

You answered slowly, glancing between his loud, sloppy chews and the milk in his bowl, sloshing up to the sides as he settled into his seat. “Netflix.”

“That’s a stupid name for a show,” he snorted. “What does that even fucking mean?”

You shook your head. “No, the show is called Santa Clarita Diet. I’m watching it on Netflix.” He gave you a glance with a frown but remained silent, raising his eyebrows as you stared blankly.

His voice was clipped when he spoke. “What the fuck is Netflix?”

“Oh, um, it’s like a network. Like a modern TV station. It has a bunch of movies and shows, but you don’t have to wait for a certain time to watch them.”

“Huh,” he looked back to the TV. “Cocksucker mentioned something like that. I thought he was making shit up.”

“No, on demand is a pretty common thing now.” You shrugged.

“So all TV is on Newflux?”

“Netflix,” you corrected, growing more and more bemused by the conversation. “And no. We kind of just reinvented cable in a different format. There’s like a million of these websites, Vought even has their own. From what I can tell, the CIA gave us Netflix, Max, Disney, and Prime.”

“They’ll do that, but they won’t buy me weed,” he grumbled. “Fucking uptight pussies.”

“Yeah, well. They didn’t get us ad-free Disney or Prime, so I wouldn’t hold your breath about them giving you drug money.”

Soldier Boy only grunted, attention fixated on the TV. The silence between you stretched as you tried to figure out a perfect, organic way to bring up the whole “I told you what Homelander did to me and you put away groceries without me asking, what the fuck is happening” thing. Just as you were about to say something, hoping that the words would find you in the moment, you were cut off.

“What the fuck is this even about?” Soldier Boy asked with a sullen voice, still not looking away from the show.

“Uh, suburban zombies. I can change it if you want.” Anything, you thought, to keep this lack of antagonistic conversation going.

“No.” You waited for more elaboration but realized he wasn’t going to offer any, having fully turned away from you. You both remained on the couch, his eyes locked to screen as you remained in your seat, afraid to move and ruin whatever was happening.

The episode ended without any outbursts from either you or Soldier Boy, and you reached for the remote, only to be hit in the head by a soggy cheerio.

“What the hell?” You picked the cereal from your hair, turning to see Soldier Boy’s frustratingly casual expression. “What was that?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked, nodding his head to where your hand had been on the remote.

“Why did you throw cereal at me?!” You snapped, holding the now mushy projectile to his face.

“To get your attention,” he answered, giving you an odd look. “You always get all bitchy when I touch you.”

“Oh.” You hesitated, your confusion only growing. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I can’t read your fucking mind. If it’s because of the Homelander thing, though, then you should remember-“

“No,” you rubbed your face in frustration. “Why did you need my attention?”

He rolled his eyes, as if it were obvious. “We’re going to keep watching this shit. It’s the least stupid thing I’ve seen so far. But you should fucking remember-“

“You could’ve just said that instead of throwing shit at me-“

“Would you fucking listen?” His familiar angry glare was beginning to form, so you closed your mouth. “If the touch thing is because of that Star-spangled pussyfuck Homelander, I meant what I fucking said last night.”

Your body tensed, trying to recall what he might be referencing. Last night, along with the previous twenty-four hours, had been replayed so much in your head it had become a simple blur of bad. "What you said?”

“I’m no rapist. I’m not an ugly pussy asshat who needs to.”

You look at him with an incredulous gape. “Needs to?”

“No part of sex is fun if she doesn’t want it. I like my woman begging me to keep going, and I only bite if they ask.” He gave you a brash grin. “I’ll show you whenever you want, Sunshine.”

“Charming,” you said under your breath, employing your now expert skills at ignoring his advances. “Would you like a trophy for the bare minimum?”

“I’m fucking serious.” He hissed, smile dropping, catching you off guard with the intensity and firmness of his expression. “If that’s why you’re so fucking annoying about me touching you, get over it.”

“Get over it?” You give a laugh of disbelief. “Are you fucking serious? First off, it has nothing to do with Homelander. Second off, if it did, I’m not going to just ‘get over it’ because this is 'annoying' for you.”

“Well then, what will make you get over it?” His question, though impatient, was said with a face of biting sincerity. At least, the closest thing to sincerity you deemed him capable of.

You tilted your head at him. “It’s not something I can get over.” Before he could respond, his mouth opening with a frown and squinted eyes, you continued. “It’s one of my powers. I can feel people’s emotions when I touch them, even if I don’t want to. I can’t turn it off, or ‘get over it’.”

His mouth remained open for another second, and you could almost see his brain slowly turning in his head. You waited, your own mind spinning with possible reactions he might meet you with. Wrathful shouting, angered distrust, cold disgust, forceful words and distance.

“Do you not like what you feel from me?” He asked, no twisted fury on his face, eyes filled with that analytical, intrusive look.

“No, that doesn’t matter to me. It's intrusive, and usually people don’t like when I do it, so I just avoid touching anyone.”

“But you can’t fucking control it.” His words didn’t seem to be directed at you, but his glare made it feel like they were. “It’s not your fucking fault all those pussies have so many fucking secrets.”

You give him a passive shrug. “Doesn’t matter. It’s still against their will.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” he mutters. “For fucks sake.”

You tilt your head at him, unable to place where his disbelief and frustration was coming from, even more unsure who was facing the brunt end of it. “I mean, it can’t be that insane that people don’t like it. It’s not like you’d want someone poking around inside your feelings.”

“Sunshine, of all the things to care about, that is one of the most fucking stupid things I’ve ever fucking heard. No, I don’t care about you ‘poking around inside my feelings’, because I’m not a fucking pussy with something to hide.” He gives you another odd look, accompanied by a pause before he spoke again. “Is that where your name comes from?”

“My, my name?” You feel yourself pale, still trying to fully grasp his previous declaration.

He watches you through narrowed eyes. “Your supe name. The Anomaly.”

Your blood might have evaporated, a petrifying cold running through you. “Don’t call me that.”

“I heard MM and the French Prick using it.” He looked slightly thrown by your response, but didn’t stop pushing. “Is it a fucking secret?”

“No,” you answer, trying to keep your voice level, your words acquiring a rambling quality. “It’s completely accurate. I couldn’t think of better one if I tried. Having fou-“ you cut off your slip. “Three completely unique powers on top of the usual supe-sauce is… anomalous. But I fucking hate it. I- I really hate it.” You trailed off, rubbing your arms uneasily.

“Why? It’s just a fucking name.” His voice was casual, almost bored, but he’d leaned forward with feet firmly on the ground, waiting for your answer with an impatient frown.

You’d frozen though, as white walls and straps, cold needles and cuts, and expressionless, masked people above you flashed in your head. Ghosts of fear the first time, devastation the second, emptiness the third, and fury the fourth echoed through your body. Moments of violating change and feelings of uncontrollable, off-balance infestation in your body that would haunt you for the rest of your life. You turned to Soldier Boy, who was still watching with a deep crease in his brow as the TV show played in white noise, and forced words from your chest, to your throat, and out of your mouth.

“If the Russians gave you a name, would you want people to use it?” You said carefully, and watched his first clench at your question, the bowl almost cracking under his grip.

He kept your gaze as he responded, a cool, rough brutality in his words. “I would fucking kill the pussy who was stupid enough to mention it.” You give him a pointed look, and watch the understanding slowly fall into place in his head. All that left him was a grunt, and he turned his body and focused back on the TV, the conversation abruptly over.

The afternoon slipped into evening, the evening into night, and hardly any more words were exchanged. You said good night as you stood to retreat to your room, and he gave a muttered acknowledgment in response. Your sleep was poor but long, and when you walked out into the hall the following morning, you found Soldier Boy standing right outside your door. His arms were crossed, one hand holding the TV remote, and he spoke the moment he saw you.

“Where the fuck is the rest of it?” His intense, demanding tone was far too firm for how early it was.

You gave him a droopy blink, noticing the same shirt and jeans from the day before. “Did you go to bed at all?”

“No. Where is it?” You try to move past him, but he moves to block your path. “Where?”

You rubbed your face, trying to squeeze out the lingering and puffy sleep. “I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“The show,” he spoke as if it were obvious, continuing to glower down at you as he waved the remote in your face. “You left, and then it was suddenly over and some weird fucking shit started playing. Fix it.”

You squint at him. “That show was canceled in, like, 2018. There isn’t any more.”

His expression was remarkably distressed. “Why the fuck would they do that?!”

“Netflix isn’t great at understanding popular demand,” you rub your eyes again as the dry of your mouth starts to fade. “But there’s like, an insane amount of shows out there. We can find something else.”

“Nothing else is good,” he grumbled. “All that played after was some stupid dating show. I had to watch a group of fucking idiots sit in rooms and whine about love all night.”

“You had to?” You roll your eyes with a snort. “What, did Butcher arrive with a gas mask and threaten to knock you out if you didn’t? If it’s so painful for you, just change it, or turn it off.”

He glares at your mockery, rubbing his neck as he mutters, “I don’t know how.”

"Huh?" His words had passed right through your ears as you tried and failed to keep your slugglish attention from drifting.

"I don't fucking know how," he practically barked, his face red as he refused to look at you. "It's my fucking fault technology is so fucking stupid now."

“Oh,” You feel a small amount of guilt as you realize that his scowl is one of embarrassment, his annoyed tone most likely rooted in frustration. “Wait, how have you been using it for two weeks?”

“I’d just hit buttons until something happened. It worked fine until you started that stupid Netflix shit.”

With a deep breath and sigh, you extend your hand for the remote. When he doesn’t move, you grab it from him with a tug and duck around him. “Follow me.”

Soldier Boy trails after you as you descend the stairs, stopping at your side as you reach the TV. You raise your arm to turn it off, but glance at his still-scrunched face, his bothered expression, and hand the remote back to him instead.

He stares down at his hands before looking back at the TV, then to you, his scowl only more confused. “Nothing fucking happened.”

“You’re going to do it.” You explain, pointing from the remote to the illuminated screen. “I’ll walk you through it, but you’re going to do it yourself.” “Fuck no,” he tries to return the remote to you. “You do it.”

You hold your hands behind your back. “If you want to live any sort of life in the 21st century after this, you’re going to want to know how to use a TV.”

“I can use a fucking TV.”

“Yeah,” you snort. “A shitty, twenty-year-old motel TV. Unless you want us to put you in a memory unit, gramps, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

“Bitch,” he grunts, but he stops trying to pawn off the remote.

“Cunt.”

His knuckles are white around the remote as he gives you an impatient, expectant look.

“Raise your hand like this, with that side,” you tap the head of the remote. “Facing the TV.”

He mimics your movements, and you give a nod of approval.

“Good, now hit that button.” When he doesn’t, you grab his finger and adjust to sit where you had pointed. “Ok, now that one.”

“Why are all these fucking buttons hidden and not labeled. Buttons used to be fucking labeled.”

You shrug. “For most people it’s intuitive, I guess.” You point to another button. “Now hit that one, and I’ll teach you how to search.”

This continues for another painstakingly drawn-out ten minutes. Once you’re absolutely sure he can passably navigate, raise and lower volume, and turn off the TV altogether, you step back.

“That’s it,” you offer him a grin. “Easy as breathing.”

He makes a grumbling, incoherent sound, dropping back on the couch. After a moment of staring at the menu on the screen, he looks up at you from his seat with an irritable frown. “You just going to fucking stand there?”

You blink at him, catch that his curt words are meant to be an offer, and move around the couch and to take the same spot you occupied yesterday. He offers you the remote back, and when you don’t take it he throws it onto your lap.

You give him a tired sigh. “The whole point of this-“

“I’ve never seen any of this shit. You said you’d find something else I’d like, Sunshine. Prove it.”

You raise your brows, but your protests die on your tongue, and you start scrolling through the display.

“I’m not that fucking old,” he grunts over your focus.

“What?” Half your attention still on the TV, you watch him shift forward in your periphery.

“I’m not that fucking old,” he repeats. “I’m not your fucking gramps.”

You glance at him, a hum of amusement leaving you. “You’re over a hundred. It’s not like you’re forty and I’m calling you ancient. Besides,” you give yourself a small smile. “Hughie told me about your little trysts with mature women. Mature woman, forty years your junior.” You stick out your tongue at him. “Cradle robber.”

“I don’t discriminate.” He says, leaning back to lounge on the couch. “And it’s not robbing the cradle if there’s no one that’s-“ he cuts himself off as he almost slips and admits your point. He gives you a glower, daring you to say something. “I’m not old.”

“Someone’s sensitive,” you mumble with a small, genuine smile, and before he can jab back, you hit play on a comedy special, turn the volume to max, and recline into the cushions.

The next set of days pass in similar fashion, and though Soldier Boy doesn’t stop grumbling insults and annoyances, picking small fights, or calling you a bitch, your childish psychological warfare has come to a halt, there’s no more throwing of chairs or explosions, and the word “bitch” off his tongue lacks the malice it did before. You quickly discover that Soldier Boy is a lot more like a toddler than anyone could have possibly guessed. You start leaving out snacks of cheese and fruit on the counter and rarely return to find it still in its spot. If you sit with him, he’ll stay shockingly still, but will make little snipes at the television. Sometimes you catch him after a comment, watching to see if you’re entertained by his words, and learn that even a vaguely amused smile makes him take on an overtly smug grin himself. At one point you start writing down a list of his less than progressive phrases, labeling it “Soldier Boy Racist Grampa Highlights," until he catches you, grabbing the list from next to you when he notices his name.

“The fucks this?” He’d asked as he scanned the page.

“I got bored,” you shrugged, and he rolled his eyes.

“This one’s not even that bad,” he pointed to a more recent addition, and you leaned over to read it.

“You called Hughie a cocksucking queer piss-boy. He’s not even here to defend himself.”

“So?”

You just gave him a flat look and returned your attention to the book you’d been skimming. You noticed him pocket the list, though, and over the next few days he started to pull it out whenever the apparently vital urge to insult someone showed its face. While the vulgarity didn’t decrease, the use of language you could only describe as tasteless and bigoted, did. Hughie even received a demotion to a “cocksucking pussy.”

He still rarely slept, instead locking himself in his room late at night and only emerging once you wake up. Once you pass his room on a 3am trip to the bathroom, walking in soft, toed steps to avoid disturbing him, only for the light leaking under his door to flood the hallway as he opens it.

“It’s not morning,” he watches you, leaning against his doorframe. “You should be asleep.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” is what you try to say. But between your clouded brain, restless need for the bathroom, and energy-drained body, what comes out is a string of sounds in a whiny tone.

“What was that?” His voice is taunting, but lacks any real edge.

“Cunt.” You mumble, trying to look at least a little menacing and, based off of what you think is a grin on Soldier Boy’s face, not succeeding.

“Bitch. You know, if you’re not tired, I’d be willing to help get you there.” He’s probably giving you a cocky, suggestive eyebrow wriggle, but between the sleepy squint of your eyes and light casting him in a silhouette, you really can’t tell. When you just make another mumble in response, he chuckles “Go back to bed, Sunshine, you’re going to collapse.”

“Nu-uh,” is all you can manage, and start to shuffle down the hall once more. When you emerge from the bathroom, your vision filled with spots after trying to turn on the lights only to be blinded, his door is closed once more, and you return to your room, collapsing back into useless, terror-fraught sleep.

When you walk into the kitchen that morning, the coffee pot is full.

———-

“What’s the third?”

You look up from your trudge through a CIA-provided, untranslated copy of Beowulf to find Soldier Boy staring at you from the door of your room.

“Third what?”

Taking that as an invitation, he stepped fully through the door to stand at the edge of your bed. “Third power. You’ve got your fireworks and feelings shit, what the fuck’s the third?”

You mark your page and meet his insistent face. “I told you that what, like ten days ago? Did you only now think to ask?”

“Nine days,” he says with an eye roll. “Don’t be fucking dramatic. And you got all pissy about your supe name. Not my fault I tried to respect your stupid fucking woman emotions and dropped it.”

You laugh. “First off, add ‘woman emotions’ to the list. And you totally forgot. I can see right through you, you just didn’t want me to make more old man jokes.”

“You’re fucking doing it anyway." He mutters, taking out the crumpled paper and a pencil from his pocket, using the wall to scratch the addition. “Would’ve been a stupid fucking plan, and I’m not a sensitive pussy who cares about jokes.” He shoves the list back into his jeans, and gives you a scowl as your grin spreads further across your face.

“Literally two days ago you threw a tantrum because I asked you what dinosaurs were your friends.”

“Are you going to answer my fucking question?”

“Fine, you baby,” you snort. “I can heal people by touching them. Technically, I transfer their injuries onto me, and then I heal so quickly it doesn’t matter. That’s mostly what I was doing for the Boys before this.”

“You were playing nurse?” He frowned. “When you can withstand a nuclear blast and are a fucking human molotov? That’s fucking stupid.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I don’t really have any control over the fire. And I wasn’t just ‘playing nurse’, I helped with missions in other ways.”

“Really?” His tone was sarcastic as he gave you a doubtful look. “What, you were a human shield too?”

“Well, yeah.” You mutter sheepishly. “But it was helpful."

“Sure, Sunshine. They must be torn up without you.”

You give him a scowl. “You know, I’m not going to tell you stuff if you’re going to be a fucking dick about it.”

He blinks, mouth curving down. “I was fucking joking.”

“Wasn’t funny,” you shrug, opening up your book. “Get out of my room.”

He doesn’t move. “Why are you being a fucking bitch again?”

You sigh, staring blankly at the pages. You’d admit, even from inside your own head, your anger had blossomed quite suddenly. But his accusations of your team being absolutely unaffected by your absence stabbed you somewhere in your chest, fueling that voice in the back of your head. It was getting louder, reminding you of all that damage in your wake—how your team walked on eggshells when they spoke to you and flinched when you touched them. “Human shield” was the best description of your place within the group. “Nurse” was too generous a term for a person they let touch and heal them only if the hospital was too far away and it couldn’t wait. On rare occasions you’d convince them to forgo their protests and just let you fix their wounds, but it took promises and pleas from you and exhausted caving from them. You look back up at Soldier Boy, who has remained in his place, eyes boring into you as you’d calmed yourself.

“I don’t like being useless.” You say softly. You know the admission could return to bite you in the ass should the peace you and Soldier Boy maintained the past week crumble, but he’d surprised you once. Maybe he’d do it again. “I don’t need you to remind me that I am.”

You watch his reaction, frown growing but fuming annoyance fading. His eyes were overtaken by a surly look you couldn’t figure out. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve heard.”

Your jaw drops, and that thing under your skin starts to claw against your skull. “Get out.” When he doesn’t move, your voice raises. “Get out!”

“Would you just-“

“Out!” You’re at a full scream now, chucking Beowulf at him. “Get the fuck out!”

“Just fucking listen to me!” He’d stumbled back as the book hit, most likely out of shock more than anything else, but remained in your room. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice smoke starting to curl around you, but you’re too angry to try to calm it. He must notice it as well, because his face pinches slightly, no longer trying to move back to you. “I wasn’t done-“

“What, you got more stupid, cruel shit to say? About how I’m not just useless, I’m a stupid fucking bitch? A useless whore who can’t even cook? An uptight fucking prude?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman, for once in your life, shut the fuck up!” He’s yelling too now, and suddenly you can’t move. It’s not like he’s never raised his voice before, having frequent appearances in your previous daily shouting matches, but this is different. This seeps through the air into your blood and head, shutting everything in you down until all that’s left is fear. Breathing is hard, your heart can’t seem to keep up with your lungs, and your anger is quickly turning into a light-headed, frantic need to go, go, go and hide, or to start clawing and clawing at whatever comes close until this feeling leaves. All of a sudden he’s right there, he’s in front of you and grabbing your arms, shaking you and saying something you can’t hear. Slowly, the tightness around you starts changing, becoming something solid, something firm. You’re annoyed and frustrated, but under it rests an urge to cover your hands in blood over something. Your fragile terror is washed over by a vigilant alarm, and everything suddenly feels sharper. As you emerge from your own brain, you notice Soldier Boy still there, his face level with yours.

“You’re fine.” It’s not a question. He’s telling you, and suddenly you realize that you are. And as you nod, you feel the distress in you fade into something like relief. Your head drops, and you tense once more as your eyes see his hands on your biceps.

“Um,” you look between his grip on your body and his face, drawn with a confusion you can feel in yourself. You gesture your head back down, his own attention following yours, and he lets out a grunt when he sees what you’re glancing at, dropping himself from you.

He draws himself up and turns, and part of you thinks he’s going to walk out the door and leave the rest of your fight for the morning. But he stops when he opens the door, and speaks without turning.

“You’re not useless. That’s what I was trying to fucking tell you. You’re certainly worth more than any of those preachy hypocrites.” Before you can ever open your mouth, he’s gone, slamming the door behind him.

You don’t sleep that night, laying in bed with the sheets feeling too warm and itchy, your thrashing only just slower than your restless thoughts. You stare and stare at the ceiling, trying to comb through the conversation and pick apart every second so you’d know just what to say when the dawn broke. You wanted to, needed to, make sure things didn’t go back to the way they’d been before. That had been exhausting, every part of your waking moments wondering who would blow up first, listing out hypotheticals to ensure that you would win any fight he offered you. You’d take the blame, a scratch in the back of your head told you it was yours anyway, to keep this truce. As the night moves, time becomes uncertain, hours, minutes, and seconds all feeling the same. Your dread turns to shame, to doubt, to a hot, righteous anger.

This won’t wait for morning, you decide. He doesn’t get to do this, make you sink down like this. It might have been your fault, but he doesn’t get to make you sit in it. You’re going to fix this or blow it up, and you’re going to do it now.

He must be up. He’s always up. You’d seen him “sleep” twice, both times in a frighteningly controlled manner, waking himself up the moment his breathing became soft. He’s certainly up, the light in his room is escaping into the hall, and you can hear him shuffling around, but, still, you knock on his door. When it doesn’t open, you knock again, then once more after another minute of inaction.

After the fifth knock, your patience a thin thread, you shout. “I know you’re in there, Soldier Boy! The light’s on, and I can fucking hear you! We need to talk!” The sounds pick up, but still the door is shut. “Let me fucking in, you ass!”

Nothing.

The thread snaps, and you push open the door. The harsh of the light blinds you for only a second, and when your eyes adjust, you're met with the sight of Soldier Boy, asleep, with his face in crumpled in a pained grimace. Sheet askew across the bed as he grunts unintelligibly, his body looks braced against something you can’t see. You’re frozen in your place near the door, agitation forgotten. You want to wake him up, because you know far better than anyone how real these things can seem, how the pain being your head doesn’t stop the echo of it in your body. You want to leave and never speak of this again, because there’s no way he receive you seeing him like this well. But what makes you decision for you, springing you from your rooted place, is the light in his chest starting to brighten as the room starts to hum.

It’s more instinct than anything—you know that the safe house and everything in it has been built to withstand this very thing, but that knowledge doesn’t stop you—as you run to the bed and shake Soldier Boy by his shoulders. When your skin meets his a rush of fear, pure and unbridled fear as strong as it had been from you hours ago, overtakes you. Fear and anger. You don’t think you ever felt this bloodthirsty, savage anger in you before. Your anger had always been cold and zealous, calculating tributes for your sorrow. This anger didn’t care. Somebody just had to hurt, and hopefully that someone would break.

If it’d been any other circumstance, you’d have been terrified by it. But you’re not, focused entirely on waking Soldier Boy up. Later, when several hours were between you and this moment, you’d deal with this. Maybe you’d even acknowledge how, despite the distance, you still may not be afraid of it. But now, with the light only growing, you let his feelings wash through you, and you do something drastic.

You pull back and slap Soldier Boy in the face.

He roars, eyes shooting open and glazed with a feral haze, his body jerking upright and grabbing you by the throat. Even as it happens, hindsight tells you that there probably were other ways to wake him up, but this was the stupid path you’d taken, and you unfortunately could not go back.

Before your vision could grow spotty, before your own fear and images of a flickering light above you could overtake your head, he let go with another shout. You scrambled back, realizing the fever in you had crept out of your spine, trading bruises on your neck for burns on his hands.

You watch him slowly regain control, his face dropping into exhaustion and his eyes searching the room—for what exactly, you’re not sure—and finding you.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” The words are low and rough, and though they don’t sound like a question, you answer him anyway.

“I- I just wanted to talk, and you weren’t answering the door…” You trail off lamely, your words sounding hollow even to you.

He doesn’t yell at your though, or push you out. He just stares at you, as if you’re meant to continue, to try and justify your presence. But you just stare back, unsure if you want him to kick you out, talk to you, or just pass out and forget the whole thing.

Instead of those options, leaving you at yet another loss, he sits back and scoots over to the far side of the mattress. When you don’t react besides another prolonged stare, he gives a half-hearted eye roll and pats the space next to him. Slowly, slightly fearful of misunderstanding his gesture, you walk over and drop on the bed at his side.

He’s looking ahead, unreadable from only his side profile, when he speaks.

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

You don’t stop watching him as you respond. “Does that happen every time?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

You don’t have anything else to say—any reassurance you can think of sounding stupid even in your head. So you wait, still watching him, and sit in the silence.

“Do you not have any?” His voice is strangely soft, though no tension has left his body.

You give a small sigh. “I do. But I’m good at hiding them. Stuff like that,” you wave a hand to his chest. “Only happens on bad days.”

“Bad days?” You can see his frown forming as his lips turn down, his voice growing deeper.

“On a few missions, I saw Homelander,” you whisper, now staring ahead yourself. “From afar. Really afar. I know he didn’t ever even see me, because I’m not back… there, but whenever I see him, apparently it’s enough.” You turn back to Soldier Boy, and are met with him watching you.

“Is that what yours are about?”

You give a small nod. “Different things happen, but it’s always him. Always there.”

“Hm,” his eyes don’t leave you as he speaks. “How do you stop them?”

You don’t have to ask what he means. “I don’t stop them, I just keep them in here.” You tap your head. “And I think of before. About how it was.”

“That helps?”

“As long as I don’t let myself remember that it will never be like that again.” You can’t hide the pain the words give you.

“What was it like?”

“Before? It’s was normal,” you shrug. “Boring.”

He tilts his head at you. “Normal?”

“Normal,” you repeat, watching his face as you speak.

He frowns, and looks away. You notice him swallow heavily, glaring at the wall. “Like,” he swallows again. “Like what?”

“Well, I had parents. Siblings. I had friends, I worked, I went to school-“

“School?” He turns back to you. “You're an adult, did they make school fucking longer?”

You feel a small smile quirk your lip. “No, I was doing a postgraduate. I’d actually just finished. Technically, I’m a doctor.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“Of Anthropology, yeah. I know less about human medicine than WebMD.” You pause. "That’s like, a website that’s famous for giving bad medical advice. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

“And you think you know less than it?”

“Oh, I know I know less than it.”

He snorted, returning to watch the wall. “That’s fuckin ironic.”

You nod in amusement. “Yep.”

When you don’t continue, he looks back once more. “What else?”

“I lived alone. Small, shitty studio on the Upper West Side. I visited my dad in Boston once a month-“

“Just your dad?”

“Yeah, my mom wasn’t dead, she’s just a bitch.” You hear Soldier Boy cough what might have been a laugh, but you ignore it. “She and my dad divorced when I was like, ten. They had joint custody, but I stopped talking to her when I was fifteen.”

“Harsh,” he mutters. “What, she ground you one too many times?”

You decided that holding back about thing like this was a need long gone. “She tried to send me to a medical boarding school in the Berkshires.”

“What the fuck is a ‘medical boarding school’”

“Like a psych ward where they teach you math.”

“Huh,” he raises his brows at you. “You need one?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I already knew math.”

He stares at you blankly, a smile having crept onto your face. “You’re… making a joke.” He said slowly.

“Yep,” you nudge his shoulder with your own. “That’s what a good one sounds like.”

He lets out a low laugh. “That wasn’t that fucking good.”

“You laughed.”

“You can’t fucking prove it.”

You’re grinning fully now. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, gramps.”

He rolls his eyes. “So your mom’s a bitch, you lived alone, and you can’t even cook. That’s just fucking sad.”

“New York is famous for its food,” you mutter. “And I can heat stuff up, as you very well know.”

“You can’t coast on box macaroni forever, Sunshine.”

“Been working fine for both of us so far.”

He gives you an amused look. “You’re not trying to seduce me.”

“What the fuck does that have to do-“

“You don’t have to impress me,” he continues, unfazed. “Your cooking doesn’t matter. What’d you do when you were hungry for dick?”

You stare at him. “You’re unbelievable.” He only returns your glare with a cocky grin.

“You haven’t seen nothing yet, Sunshine.” He winks, and you roll your eyes.

“Men aren’t big pussies about that stuff anymore,” you smile as his face drops at your claim. “And I never spent a lot of time being ‘hungry for dick’, anyways.”

“What, you have a loyal boyfriend?” he taunts.

“Nope,” you give him a grin. “But I had a sweet old lady in the apartment across the hall who brought me food every weekend. You’d have liked her, she was just your type.”

He grunts, but not with annoyance. “All I hear is no boyfriend, no friends, and can’t cook. Like I said, just fucking sad.”

“I had friends!” You protest. “We’d do karaoke every Friday!”

“You can sing?”

“Nobody who does karaoke can sing,” you dodge with ease. “But we had fun.”

He lets out a labored breath, and when he turns to you this time, you notice how bloodshot his eyes are.

“Would you go back?” He asked. He was watching you so carefully, and you once again are left confused by the look in his eyes.

“I don’t think I could.” You answer, your voice sounding far away, a memory of a gravestone flashing in your head. “I don’t think it would be fair to them.”

“Fair to them?” He gives a doubtful huff. “That’s fucking stupid.”

“Really?” You challenge. “I don’t think it’s stupid to not want to pull the people you love into this shitshow. I got a chance to keep them out of this life. Most people aren’t that lucky.”

Soldier Boy only shrugs. “Bad things will still fucking happen to them.”

“Bad things happen to everyone.” Your words are firm. “I’m making sure they don’t fucking die.”

“Well,” he turns back to the wall. “Aren’t they fucking lucky they have you.”

You know his words are meant to be cold and sarcastic, his face has even dropped into a scowl. But there was no sharpness behind them, and the rest of his face just looks… so tired. You hate it, it’s leaking into you and you’re not even touching him. You really, really want it to stop. So, you say the only thing that you can think of.

“Nobody taught me,” you say softly.

“What?” His red eyes give you a confused glance.

“I can’t cook because nobody taught me how. My mom didn’t care to, I don’t think it ever occurred to my dad, and eventually everyone just assumed that I could and I didn’t want to correct them. I turned into some sort of rage against the patriarchy shit in my head, but it’s a just life skill that I can’t do because nobody wanted to teach me.” You give him a sad smile. “I don’t think they felt as lucky to have me as you think.”

“So why’re you protecting them?” He asks, a puzzled frown on his face. “If those pussies didn’t fucking care about you, then they don't fucking deserve it.”

You shrug. “I know. But I’m going to keep doing it anyway.”

His eyes on yours have that look of dissection again, but it’s no longer violating, only prying carefully. You’re not sure how long passes before he speaks.

“It’s late,” he mutters. “You should sleep.”

You hesitate, but nod and stand. You move to the door, glancing back to see his still watching, alone on the bed. From here, he somehow looks more tired, the light making the circles around his eyes more prominent and the color on his face more washed out. You think it’s the most human you’ve ever seen him.

“Good night, Soldier Boy,” you say gently, and turn to leave.

You almost don’t hear his response.

“You don’t have to call me Soldier Boy,” the words are said under his breath, and when you turn, he has a soft frown. “Ben’s fine.”

You blink, and a small, unforced smile crosses your face. “I’ll see you in the morning, Ben.”

[hypervoxel]

Jumble of headcanons in no particular order about Vark because I need to write them down somewhere to pretend to be organized

He started off sooo cute and tiny, like the size of a guinea pig. And he made laser noises like a baby Cuban crocodile.

He was so so tiny. He did not stay tiny.

Sharks sense electricity! He's naturally drawn to Vox when Vox is taking in or letting off too much power. He naturally interrupts Vox's overstimulation and warns about seizures, so Vox trained him some actual medical alert tasks.

Service shark Vark 🐕‍🦺

On the topic of electricity, I also headcanon him as having some aspects of an electric eel as well. A fantasy eel. He can take in some of Vox's excess energy, and isn't bothered by the sparks Vox throws off.

I'm chewing on the idea that Val bought Vark for Vox as an apology gift.

Now I'm just quoting myself directly from discord: I keep thinking of how I can include this (Vark being a gift from Val) in my one fanfic where it obviously does not fit bc Val hates Vark in it. Maybe he's jealous that Vox cares way more about Vark himself than the fact that Val gave him a gift. So unappreciative, didn't even have make-up sex over it bc Vox was too busy practically having a breakdown over how adorable Vark is. Val realizes that this was a mistake and he should have picked a very different gift instead

Vark is such a well behaved good boy when he's working, as a service shark. When Vox is in distress, Vark is so focused on trying to help with all the power of his tiny shark brain <3 Outside of that tho? He's a terror. He's so excitable. He canonically (in the old Voxtagram art) jumps on and knocks people over. This ties into him previously being a tiny adorable little thing. It was sooo cute when he jumped on your leg, back when he was the size of a large potato. It stayed cute up until they realized he was going to be so much bigger than they ever expected.

(It's like a bottle raised bull. The cute things they did when they were a little baby calf are no longer cute now that they're so large they are going to hurt you on accident just trying to be friendly and playful. RIP.)

Other service dog tasks for Vark: deep pressure therapy (of course. Interrupting behaviors such as when Vox is getting overwhelmed. Blocking to stop other people from getting too close to/touching Vox when he would shock them. I am forgetting so many things and will continue writing this list later

Vox doesn't do public access with Vark. This ties into my headcanons for Vox that he is deeply ashamed of himself and he cannot let anyone know he has problems ever.

Unfortunately, I am evil. So I also like the idea of Vark as an owner-trained service animal who is hmm not the perfect candidate for the job. In the same way shepherds aren't recommended for anxiety work, he can feed too much off of Vox's own emotions and has issues with guarding aggression that at times cause him to become reactive. (*points at my fanfic where he bites Val*)

I love bad representation.

Alsooo I don't like hammerhead sharks or animals that are too cartoon-y for me to understand as a real creature, so I'm making up a new design for Vark

Based on a Bonnethead Shark! Fun fact about Bonnethead Sharks: they are omnivorous! They eat seagrass :)

So Vark is omnivorous but unfortunately he's also like a tiger shark in that he'll eat anything even if it's not food. Tiger sharks have been found with license plates, tires, and other trash in their stomachs (sad)

Don't ask Vox how many times Vark has needed emergency exploratory surgery after eating something he shouldn't have. He doesn't want to talk about it.

Vark chews on wires like real sharks biting at undersea fiber optic cables. Chomp chomp

When Vark was a tiny baby, Velvette dressed him up in silly little outfits to post online. She doesn't do that anymore because he has mostly outgrown his cuteness stage for her: she only thought he was cute when he was little.

[9r7g5h]

Should Have Been Obvious

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Boku no Hero Academia 

Rating: T

Genre: Humor

Summary: "How the actual fuck did I raise such a stupid brat?"

Even as the side of Katsuki's lip curled, he couldn't necessarily argue with his mother. He wanted to, he really, really did, but in this one case he had to concede that she was maybe, just slightly, kind of right.

It should have been obvious.

Words: 2,433

"How the actual fuck did I raise such a stupid brat?"

Even as the side of Katsuki's lip curled, he couldn't necessarily argue with his mother. He wanted to, he really, really did, but in this one case he had to concede that she was maybe, just slightly, kind of right. Partly because she hadn't been the first to say it - their friends, their former teachers, the others at their agency; hell, even Recovery Girl had broken her retirement and self imposed month long temporary isolation in Florida to give him a call and chew him out when she had heard the news. The doctors so far had been nicer about the whole thing, if with an air of judgment about them, reassuring him that, while rare, it could, in fact, happen. There'd been studies, tv shows, social experiments - they weren't the only ones this had happened to, though perhaps they were one of the most famous. That had only made him feel slightly better, because really, the other reason he didn't snap back at his mother was that, thinking about it, all of the signs had, if fact, been there.

It should have been obvious.

But, really, Izuku being sick at 3 am almost every single day for two months had been easy to write off. The damn nerd was constantly getting cheap crap from convenience stores for snacks on his way home from patrols, no matter how much Katsuki tried to protest. So they had both just laughed (or, rather, Katsuki had laughed, Izuku had bemoaned) it off as his stomach finally taking its revenge now that he was in his mid-20s.

The back and chest pain? Well, they were both heroes - things were constantly getting tweaked and twisted and hit, and even when they had desk duty, Izuku never sat properly. He was always hunched over his laptop, muttering under his breath instead of keeping track of his HDMI cables so he could use the nice, comfortable chairs and large monitors the agency had gotten them.

Being tired? The nerd never slept. End of story, he was always tired, and so was Katsuki, depending on whether or not Izuku had kept him awake as well. Sometimes a happy tired, if he'd gotten his dick wet at least, but more often then not a frustrated tired, his lovely, wonderful husband and mate keeping him awake half the night because they just had to talk about the new quirk theory he'd come up with. A talk that couldn't wait until their, you know, shared patrol the next day, or shared lunch hour, or dinner, where they lived together.

Crying easily? Izuku had already been flooding the city on a daily basis because a child knew his name, and if someone insulted one of their friends (especially him), they had exactly three seconds to find somewhere to hide and pray before he tried to rip them a new asshole for shits and giggles. Moodswings had always been part of Izuku, and nothing new to their lives.

Neither of them had thought much about Izuku's missed heat; he'd always been irregular, ever since he'd gotten One for All, going from the standard one every three months to sometimes six months in between a heat, or sometimes only two. Their mating and medications had helped, for the most part, but a missed one was nothing to worry about. For sure nothing to call home or run to a doctor about, but instead just a scheduled off long weekend to take advantage of.

Though, perhaps his reluctance to take apart the elaborate nest he'd established in the living room should have sent up some flags. Katsuki was glad for the small bite scar on his hand now, and the fact that the nest was still there, left alone after Izuku had made it very clear it was staying. They'd need it, even if it was ugly as fuck and in the worst place possible. It smelled like them, sure, but he still hated the fact that they owned an Icy Hot blanket, and for some reason Izuku had put that bastard's merch right where it was most visible wherever you went in the apartment.

Sure, the weird food had been weird, but none of it had been too too strange. Katsuki had gagged the first time he'd seen Izuku eat pork rinds and m&ms ("It's just like chocolate covered bacon, Kacchan!"), and more than once Katsuki had wondered why and how he'd let himself get bullied out of his own house to try and find melon pudding in the middle of the night, but again, not too weird. Or, rather, neither of them had really just thought about it.

Damn it, Denki was rubbing off on him too much. He really was a dumbass.

To be fair, in their defense, there had been some pretty obvious things that hadn't been there as well. Izuku's scent had barely changed, the slightest extra sweetness of milk barely there under the lighting and mint. He'd barely put on any extra weight, his increased appetite quickly burned off by the amount of exercise they did each day. They were both already horny fucks, so any increase in that area hadn’t been that noticeable.

It hadn't been until earlier that day that they'd begun to suspect something was maybe, just maybe, wrong. Izuku had woken up complaining of a weird pressure in his lower stomach, strange cramps that he couldn't just walk off. Katsuki had suggested he take the day off, go to the doctor, but Izuku had been insistent on doing his shift first. They had a short, early day, so they could always swing by whichever hospital was closest to them when they clocked out.

"I'm fine, Kacchan," Izuku had said, his smile tight even as he rubbed at his lower back, hissing as another cramp hit him. "It's probably just some stomach thing from all the weird things I've been eating."

He'd wanted to push, but deciding it was better to not argue and just keep a close eye on him, Katsuki had just nodded and gotten ready for the day.

He should have pushed. Throughout the day it was clear how much the cramps had been bothering Izuku, citizens giving him strange, almost panicked looks each time he stopped and pressed his hand to his stomach or his back, biting back whatever noise of pain threatened to break free. Some had even given Katsuki angry, disapproving looks, though when he had just shrugged and rubbed Izuku's back until he insisted he was fine enough for them to continue, that seemed enough for people to drop it. At least until the alerts went off for the robbery.

He wasn't even sure now what the name of the place was, whether it was a bank or some kind of store, just that one of the villains had some kind of x-ray quirk to let them figure out where the best goods to take were, while the other could pull apart the metal and bricks to fill their bags. He and Deku had been the first on the scene, making enough of an entrance that, without turning off the weird eye thing the woman had been doing, both villains had turned towards them, more than ready to fight.

Only for Creepy Eyes to take one look at Izuku and throw her hands up, hitting her partner on the way so she would do the same.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? You need to be in a hospital, not running around being a hero for one fucking day. We’re thieves, we’re not getting involved in this shit and possibly hurting one of you.” Her voice had been panicked, each blink causing her eyes to flicker between black and green as she lowered herself to the ground. “And you,” the snarl had taken Katsuki off guard, he’d admit - plenty of villains had growled at him before, but never with this kind of tone - “what kind of alpha are you? I know he’s the number one hero and all the shit, but really? You really care that little about him that you didn’t take him to the hospital already? Fucking shitty mate is what you are.”

Katsuki had bristled at the accusation, words he technically understood but that all together meant shit. Not that he had had time to do anything: his face dark, Izuku had taken a few steps forward, power crackling through his limbs, mouth open to speak-

Only to freeze as another one of those cramps rippled through him, this time accompanied by wetness that had stained the back of his pants, soaking through and dripping down his legs onto the dusty floor.

The next few hours had been blurry, Katsuki had to admit. Bird Brain flying in on his wave of darkness to take over for them while they waited for the ambulance; the ride as the EMTs helped Izuku out of his hero costume, asking him questions Katsuki fired off the answers to, because he knew Izuku more than well enough to respond even as his husband gritted his teeth against the strange pain, scent sharp and stressed and scared; the hospital trying to pull him to the side so he could fill out forms (he might or might not have tried to bite someone) until someone with brains had told them to do it later, this was happening now.

The room, the doctors, too many voices and not enough answers as he tried to keep Izuku calm. Calm and breathing and following the few instructions one of the smiling nurses had come by his head to give him (smiling, so that had to mean he wasn’t dying, something Katsuki had latched onto), ignoring his own pained hand as Izuku squeezed it between the waves. Waves that part of Katsuki had realized were more than some stomach bug, but he’d been proven an idiot, a complete dumbass, because it hadn’t been until the end, when Izuku had been screaming and crying and accidentally kicked someone in the face that it had gone quiet, that it had ended and whatever had been going on was over, that a small, whimpering newborn had been placed on Izuku’s chest that he’d actually realized what it all meant.

“Fucking hell,” he’d breathed, eyes wide and slightly faint as he’d watched Izuku carefully push back the dark hair on their head. Watched as, exhausted and out of it, Izuku had nuzzled the infant before trying to find a nurse, frowning as his tired gaze had fallen on Katsuki himself.

“They gave me a baby, Kacchan,” Izuku had slurred, eyes drooping, barely awake. “We’re heroes - we need to find her parents.”

“Give her here, nerd,” Katsuki had said, though it had taken a long few moments and some gentle swipes of his wrists over Izuku’s to get him to actually let go of her. “Go to sleep; I got her.”

And that was still how he was now, two hours after his daughter’s birth. He’d called his mom, given her the bare jist of it - she’d grabbed Inko on her way over, his dad out of the country for some business meeting, his green-haired mother-in-law quietly fawning over her still sleeping son. The doctor had given him something, after hearing the whole story, to help with healing and keep him calm when he woke up, though he’d sleep for a bit longer. Mitsuki sat next to him, looking between her phone and granddaughter, eyes bright even as she berated him and fielded calls. Stupid villain had leaked everything to the media the first chance she’d gotten, and Katsuki was glad he had someone to deal with the fallout of their stupidity for them.

He sure as fuck couldn’t. Besides calling the old hag, he’d barely been able to take his eyes off of her. She was so small, could fit in his arms so easily, his daughter. Perfectly healthy, if a bit small and a little bit early, nothing to be concerned about, according to the doctor that had almost had to pry her from his hands to give her her first checkover. A miracle, in Katsuki’s mind, considering there’d been nothing that he knew they should have been doing; none of the vitamins, none of the classes, none of the special exercises or appointments or anything that those shitty lifetime movies always made such a big deal out of.

They were dumbasses, as his mother so loved to remind him every few minutes as she replied to calls and texts and coordinated with PR, but even so they’d made the best kid.

“Kacchan?”

Immediately he was at Izuku’s side; he knew he was purring, brushing his cheek over and over against Izuku’s as he held their baby in his arms, scenting him excessively as Izuku just looked at him in tired confusion, but Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to stop. He’d had two whole extra hours to process this shit, and fuck, sure, brats had always been a “When we get to them” kind of thing, but she was here and perfect and he was happy.

“So it wasn’t a dream.” His voice tired and awed, Izuku just reached out for the baby, their baby, and brushed his wrist over her, scenting her, smiling as she squirmed at the sensation. “Kacchan, we have a baby. We didn’t even know I was pregnant and now we have a daughter.” He was tearing up, taking the offered tissues from Inko as Katsuki just sat there and let him process, nuzzling him while holding their child tight between them. “What are we going to tell everyone?”

“Don’t worry about that, ‘Zuku,” Katsuki quickly said, shooting Mitsuki a look they both understood. He didn’t need to know about the media circus show, about how Momo had created a key to their apartment and their friends were already swarming their home with baby shit, that the world was talking and speculating and wondering about how they’d gotten into this predicament in the first place (since a hero almost giving birth on the field was a new one). “Right now you need to rest, and we need to figure out what we’re calling this cute little brat.”

“Don’t call your kid a brat, you stupid brat. How I raised such a dumbass, I’ll never know.”

Katsuki wanted to argue, but really, she was right. He was a dumbass - a lucky as fuck, happy dumbass, and at least now he knew what to look for next time.

[END]

If there are any questions/requests, I have a Curious Cat and a Retrospring! :3

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[the-dragon-hearted]

Fairy Tail but they're all on bad reality cable shows

Some Reporter Guy: So, Mavis, how do you keep yourself looking so young? The ladies want to know -

Mavis: *smiling at the camera*

Acnologia: what kind of question is that? The ladies?? Young... What - whY would you -

Mavis: Well, first you have to commit a mortal sin against God.

*Question pops up on the board*

*Both Natsu and Gajeel slam their button*

Natsu: 43!!

Gajeel: THEY ASKED FOR A PRESIDENT -

Erza: Now when baking a cake. It is important to utilize the utmost care when stirring your batter.

Jellal: babe. Babe... babe you're killing the batter. BABE! BABE, I THINK YOU DID IT! E R Z A IT'S ON THE CEILING STOP STIRRING

Mira: And on today's episode of "Help, I have a stalker" we have long-time guest Gray Fullbuster. How's the situation been going, Gray?

Gray: Ima be honest, idk how I got here.

Mira: Oh?

Gray: Yeah, Juvia said to hop in the car and I kind of just went with it.

Mira: Juvia... your... stalker?

Gray: Oh yeah she moved in. She kept breaking my locks and it was getting annoying.

Makarov: And now, our largest jackpot yet, but who will win the prize?

Cana: It's obviously me, I'm going to buy so much booze once I'm out of here

Mira: ya know, I could use a bit of extra income, just to stay safe.

Lucy: TAKE THAT MONEY AND I'LL ACTUALLY KILL YOU I NEED TO PAY RENT -

*A new question appears*

*Natsu lunges for the button and slams it*

Natsu: "43!!"

Gajeel *slamming his head": oh my GOD STOP ANSWERING, THEY ASKED FOR A SONG TITLE - WE'RE GONNA LOSE

Happy: So... Gildarts. The tests are in

Gildarts: *Nervously sweating*

Happy: You...

Gildarts: *chewing his nails*

Happy: Are...

Gildarts: *hyperventilating*

Happy: Not. The Father.

Gildarts: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Jet: Hi there everyone, and welcome back to a new episode of "Are They Gay?"

Freed: *direct eye contact with camera* Yes. There we go. Show over.

Droy: No... unless it's Jet. Like I'd kiss Jet, but like in a bro way...

Laxus: *shoves camera away*

Macao: I love woman. I LOVE woman

Jet: *behind the camera* isn't Wakaba co-parenting with you?

Macao: And? A bro can't move in and help raise a kid anymore? Come on Jet, I thought you were more progressive then that -

Natsu: *pressing the button* the answer is 43!!

Gajeel: *leaning over his stand, actively restraining himself* If you press that button and say 43, one more damn time... I will break 43 of your bones - and then eat them.

Charle: And going to rank #3 on the list of People I Hate, we have Loke.

Loke: WHAT!?

Wendy: Charle, NO-

Charle: HE KNOWS WHAT HE DID

Like: I DON'T ACTUALLY -

Charle: YOU TOLD MY CHILD ABOUT ALL OF YOUR LITTLE ONE-NIGHT STANDS YOU LITTLE SHIT-

Wendy: Im not your child! I hatched you out of an egg!

Loke: *Insulted* Whoa whoa whoa, I didn't tell her ALL of them! And I left out all the important details!

Charle: I WILL MOVE YOU TO RANK 2 SO HELP ME-

Porlyusica: *At the judge's stand, reading glasses on, skimming through summaries*

Zeref: *Takes the stand*

Porlyusica: *slamming the gavel* Jail. She was hundreds of years younger than you

Lyon: *Takes the stand*

Porlyusica: *gavel slam* Jail. She is too young for you.

Bora: *Takes the stand*

Porlyusica: *gavel slams twice* Jail. And more Jail just in case that wasn't enough.

Mest: *Taking the stand nervously* "Hi... "

Porlyusica: *stares at the camera* I want this man executed immediately. And if you won't do it I will. Look at Wendy again, and I'll skin you alive.

Natsu: *slamming the button* 43!!

Gajeel: THAT'S IT! I'M KILLING HIM!! I DON'T CARE HOW MANY YEARS I SERVE-

Gameshow host: That is correct! 43 is indeed the answer and with that, you've won the jackpot!

Natsu: *grinning* See! I knew it was gonna work eventually

Gajeel: *rolling his sleeves up* Oh fuck no you're still dying -

Jellal: Erza, maybe we should take on a self defense show instead of a baking show -

Erza: Maybe you should go make a show with your fiance.

[papasmistakeria]

Cursed Enterprise headcanon (maybe AU) cause my favourite series is now Enterprise and they're the closest to the 21st century so I can make millenial headcanons for them and it'd still be considered canon:

One time, Malcolm had the crew do archery for target practice and survival training. Ironically, the person who had the worst score was Archer

Archer lost Porthos this one time and he was depressed for an entire month. In a show of good will and friendship, T'Pol decided to make it her mission to find Porthos. She brought Archer the beagle back and he was so happy he cried and hugged her for an entire hour. 3 days later, Hoshi and Travis showed up with the real Porthos. Archer was left with one question; If that's Porthos, then who the fuck is the beagle that T'Pol brought? In the end, Archer gave up trying to figure it out and decided to adopt the other beagle

T'Pol was fascinated by the human custom of international communities discussion through means of forums as a way to recognize cultures. For her research, she signed up for Twitter. It was then she's convinced humans are fucking stupid

Trip had top surgery twice; First time when he transitioned and second time on his arm when he grew those nipples

Trip has spent most of his young adult life trying to lick his elbows. Nearly died twisting his neck one time

Malcolm had a Green Day phase and Trip laughs at him for it

Because he's smaller than most Security Chiefs, Malcolm is very resourceful in combat. Meaning, he bites and claws at people like a rabid animal. He also has near perfect voice imitation which adds to the long list of 'Things Absolutely Fucked Up about Malcolm Reed'. Some people thought he's a skinwalker or some demon

Whenever he's drunk, Malcolm shifts through 10 different personalities and accents and all of those are just Dominic Keating characters

Hoshi has a soft spot for rodents. She snuck in a bunch of her pet mice into the ship during launch and some of them escaped and at the same time, the whole ship power died and the only ones still active are weapons and warp. Turns out, some of her mice are in Engineering having the feast of their lives (they're chewing on the cables). Trip nearly had an aneurysm while the entire Engineering crew were chasing multiple mice away with brooms

Hoshi's role model is Hatsune Miku

Travis' role model is also Hatsune Miku

Travis plays Roblox. One time he made a Roblox game based off the Enterprise but then the captain found out and told him to shut it down. Nobody even noticed that Archer himself plays Roblox

One creature that Phlox absolutely cannot stand is the Earth Wasp. During his first few days on Earth, he thought the wasp was a bee and tried to observe it but instead it stung him and he hasn't forgiven it

Phlox is a big fan of Scooby Doo and has spent years trying to find a talking dog. He still believes Porthos has the ability to speak but hides it

Hayes is a Brony. His favourite is Applejack

The Enterprise crew has a Minecraft server for everyone. The Engineers are the ones who built every structure in the server. The Science and Medical crew are the ones making farms and whatnot. Command crew are the ones mining. The Security crew logs in every now and then just to blow shit up and ruin everyone's day

The only time Harris regretted recruiting Malcolm to Section 31 was during his first solo mission and somehow Malcolm managed to bite a Starfleet security officer's fucking fingers off clean and Harris nearly had an aneurysm trying to do damage control

Shran tries to learn about human custom through their history since he's a firm believer that history is the door to the present. The next time he greeted Archer, he did a dab and Archer cried

Shran went to visit Earth as a show of diplomacy and for a date with Archer. Someone offered to give him more money if he gives them some money and he mistook that for weird human hospitality tradition. He got scammed

There's a thirst trap of Soval somewhere and it's on Forrest's private tiktok account

[eightypercentjack-blog]

I'm sadly a day late and had to take pictures of pictures for this but I wanted to celebrate International Vulture Awareness Day nevertheless!

This beautiful beast is Gomez, a gorgeous White-Backed Vulture with whom we shared 3 very 'brat' summers 😄

From deceptively adorable rescue chick to proud surveyor of his kingdom (aka the whole sanctuary) Gomez's greatest hits include:

- Walking very slowly and deliberately up wooden steps when he could have just flown

- Generally pretending he couldn't fly and needed to be bribed with treats to complete his training

- Fiercely staring down any volunteer who got too close to his beloved perch on the top of the volunteer's lapa

- Objecting to me stopping him chewing an electric cable by savaging my knee (yup it really hurt even though he was still a youngling)

- Holding both my friend and I hostage simultaneously even though one of us was in our room and one of us was in the shower block two doors down

- Turning his beak up at horse penis, despite eating anything going in the wild, so he could hold out for the good stuff

Gomez eventually realised he had bigger kingdoms to conquer and self-released once he became more and more comfortable with flying but I cherish the time we spent with that cheeky little character 😆

Vultures are fascinating, critical members of the ecosystem. They play a vital role in the natural cycle of life and greatly benefit their environments and the other creatures that share them. I would encourage anyone to learn more about nature's sassiest clean-up crew and find out what you can do to protect these beautiful birds 🥰

[cringeteenager31]

“In five minutes, all bets are off.”

since at least choir’s worth of people wanted it, we’re making the au !! hooray !! also based off of this one shot about perfect dolls so go check that out!! (link is at the bottom)

This is part 1 for everyone who wanted it :3

TLDR: ocean takes too long to vote and karnak fucking dies.

warnings: written by a bored teenager so it’s probably not the best, cursing, it’s rtc what do you expect

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“In five minutes, all bets are off.”

That is what Karnak is telling Ocean O’Connell Rosenberg, the most successful girl in town. After five minutes, a rat that Karnak has named Virgil will chew through Karnak’s power cable and kill them both. He, Karnak, had said this before bringing the dead teenagers to this afterlife before the real afterlife

“What happens in five minutes?”

Ocean O’Connell Rosenberg asks this, afraid of what could happen if she ends up not making the deadline and thinking too long about who should win. Originally, she would vote herself and be brought back, but she has now realized that she, along with all of her friends, deserved to live.

“An appointment with a rat named Virgil, and then my death. After that, I’m not quite sure.”

Even with this machine’s fortune telling abilities, he can’t tell the future of anything past his demise. What if people would live past him? Could he not tell their fortune?

“Um.. and if I pick myself what’s the moral? If I choose myself… if I choose myself, the moral of the story is that humans suck.”

Ocean was earlier chosen to select the winner of the grand prize, being revived, due to having the highest grade point average in the choir. Even with being the one to select the winner, she will not choose herself. She never could bring herself to.

“That would be a valid interpretation, yes.”

Karnak, being the monotone fool of a fortune telling machine he is, saying something that many have laughed at when watching this show live. Although here, this is not a show.

“No, no we are going to honor the original agreement. We all are going to vote on who comes back.”

As the stubborn girl protests, Karnak shows the choir the portal to leave to the other side. The other children watch in awe as Ocean looks closely.

Karnak tries to remind ocean that she doesn’t have forever to decide. She is about to yell at him to leave her alone to think for five seconds, before the machine blows up.

“Your lucky number is seven. You will soar to great heights. Make sure to ride the cyclone.”

As Karnak loses power and his magical ball goes out, all the lights go out and the legendary portal to living breaks. It broke?! It fucking broke?!

Ocean runs to the wall where the portal used to be located and begins to bang on the wall. The other choir members follow after her and look horrified. None of them will get a chance at life? Never?

“No! Wait! Please!”

Ocean begins to panic. The potential she once ever had gone now. No one gets a second chance at life.

And none of them will get the chance at heaven or hell.

This realization sends all of the choir members into a panic. Noel Gruber, already hating Ocean, groans loudly and puts his hands to his head.

“Now look what you’ve done, Satan, now we’re stuck here forever!”

Ocean tries to defend herself, but it is quite literally her fault. She was the one chosen to select the winner, she was the one who wasted all of the time. No one else here did.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realize that we had 5 SECONDS instead of MINUTES!”

Ocean says that with the sarcasm she’s always had, but she’s changed a lot. She has changed so much since coming to this afterlife. So had everyone else

But any change that they make won’t matter anymore. No effect they have will impact the world they once lived in. This is the beginning of eternity.

~~~~~~~

hai :3 hope u guys like this ! please note this is like the first writing I’ve done that’s been published for the world to see so it’s probably really bad and any criticism is welcome ! first part, kinda sad or tragic, but the other parts WILL include these silly goobers goofing off.

here’s the link to the AO3 perfectdolls one shot that inspired this so credits to that author for the idea!!

[yarboyandy]

2012 deviantart is back baby!!!! Tagged by @squimp ^_^ LOVE YOUUUUU <3

three ships

Ok I’m kind of a weirdo now because I’m watching shows that probably loop on cable forever. I am realizing none of these are gay #LOVELOSES

1. Bones x Booth

My current ship that literally makes me sick in the head. what if we loved each other despite our flaws that make us feel unlovable…what if I want to spend my whole day arguing with you instead of being with my girlfriend…if I see you talk to another man I’ll actually blow my fucking brains out.

The image is so pixel-y because I chew on it when I’m mad

2. Giles x Jenny

I know I flip flop between him and Ethan but I have wayyyy more to say about these two outside of “TOXIC YAOI!!!!!” The whole idea of “we made it work one day, just not in this life” DRIVES ME INSANEEEEE and is such a constant in Giles’s life across all his love interests (Ethan included LOL). Also Jenny is just cool 👍🏻

3. Alex x Meredith

I’m literally the only person who pictures this. Btw. Big fan of the two most damaged people you know getting together cuz they made a marriage pact for whatever reason. I think they could work.

First ship

Ummmm I don’t remember honestly Probably my pokemon OC x someone elses pokemon OC on deviantart when I was 12. A clefairy x luxio. Hope they’re doing well 👆👆👆 sadly i have no proof of this cuz i had a burning of Alexandria momebt at age 15

Last song I listened to

Смерти Больше Нет by IC3PEAK 😳

I listen to it when I row lol.

Currently reading

I haven’t picked it up inna sec but A Million Little Pieces by James Frey for the kicks and giggles and I’m starting Beloved because I love Toni Morrison…but mostly stuff for my research paper that I finished last week like Walking mannequins by Joya Misra. I want to start Kafka on the shore this summer but i know the translation isnt the best (??) maybe it is who knows who knows.

Also comic wise I’m reading Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Sees. It’s fun I just LOVEEEEE watercolor comics, reminds me of Beasts of Burden.

Currently watching

Bones and Greys Anatomy ‼️ I havent been watching a ton of movies sadly I dont have the time ☹️ But I need to watch Tiger Cruise for my propaganda class and I did just see Monkey Man which was AWESOME.

Relationship status

In like four different lavender marriages.

Current obsessions

Mostly fitness stuff I just started playing tennis and still really into running. I’m sad cuz I definitely did something to my shoulders so I cant row rn, I LOVEEEEE rowing. Umm outside of that…idk applying to jobs and making miniverses. Heres some attached to my friends fridge

LOL the ones that fell are inna pile on the window

Currently craving

Chocolate chip peanutbutter cookie……

Favorite color

GREEN! To wear tho probably like brown or grey…

Tagging: it’s not the same if I don’t tag people….sorry….HAVE FUN.

@z4chstone @autisticsquidward @princessmo @normalwizard @mouseratz

[bluescreenexe]

i think not being able to record ATOTS on my cable box growing up says a lot about why i haven mulled over stan and ford's relationship until now. i was able to find it and watch it later on, on the same cable box, and i remember the suspense around it- i'd kind of had to piece together what happened in ATOTS until i could watch it, and it was easy to pretend that stan revealed he was his brother and they just moved on- it made why they argued in weirdmageddon 3 really peculiar because i didn't get to see the scene with the toffee peanuts or the perpetual motion machine, i hadn't heard about backupsmore or stan chewing his way through a trunk, or that stan accidentally shoved ford into that portal.

ford's dramatic reveal in NWHS was so exciting to eleven year old me, because:

holy crap

the author

the "main character has a twin" trope is used a lot for plot twists like it was in gravity falls, but i think ford was absolutely planned from the very beginning. there are refrences to him leading up to his reveal all throughout season one and two.

ATOTS turned out to be my favorite episode once i was able to get my hands on it, and it still is to this day. i love picking that episode apart and looking at all of the inconsistencies, and the way that stan tells his story with imagery that doesn't line up is so interesting. his brother is an unreliable narrator as well, as seen when his outfit changes twice when fiddleford is pulled through the portal. it makes me wonder if both ford and stan tried to sugarcoat their stories for the sake of each other and the kids.

stan and ford have such a complex relationship and they always have- they were inseperable polar opposites growing up, and we can infer that stan stuck up for ford a ton in their childhood and even into their teenage years. stan is seen talking back to crampelter on glass shard beach, as an example- but when stan breaks ford's perpetual motion machine, a rift forms between them. stan gets kicked out. ford goes to backupsmore. they don't talk for ten years.

and then suddenly, in ford's paranoia that he's been drowning in for god knows how long, he reaches out to stan. he asks him to take journal one and dispose of it.

but they argue. stan gets pushed into the machine with the hot metal that brands him, ford gets shoved into an interdimentional gateway and remains there for thirty years- and in those thirty years, stan works and works and works to get his brother back. he works to get the brother back that he hadn't talked to in ten years, the brother back that he had spent arguing with moments before he was gone.

stanley pines has one of the biggest hearts in the entirety of the pines family. he risks the us government taking him away for his brother. he risks never being allowed around dipper or mabel ever again for his brother.

stan risks the life he's made for himself for the brother that he probably wished he had nothing to ever do with, and if that isn't love, i truly don't know what is. stan read through the journals of ford's mental descent and still wanted to save him. he still wanted to make amends. and ford couldn't even thank him for it- stan's anger is excusable. i have so much to say about these two but i don't even think a post on an online blog could ever do them justice

sorry for the tangent , i know none of it made sense lol

[levi-da]

The Aftermath

Pairing: Eren Yeager/Jean Kirstein

Tags: Angst, Bathtub Therapy, Sharing a Bed

Summary: Titans suddenly vanish from the world and leaves Eren questioning his existence. Jean just really needs to pee.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I honestly had no idea where I was going with this til it was 3 AM and I had over 2k written.

Read on AO3

Since the Survey Corps had no longer been needed, Eren felt aimless. It had only been a week, but the very idea of never seeing a Titan again hadn’t fully set in for him. In a world free of Titans, what was there for him to do?

He still wished of going past the walls, but that didn’t seem challenging anymore. There was nothing outside the walls that could harm him. He could leave right now and no one would stop him.

Fuck it.

Eren pulled the straps of his ODM gear on, taking his time to make sure the leather laid flat against his skin. Once he had all his gear strapped on, he ran outside. He shot out his cables as he bursted through the doors, swinging through the air and flinging himself between the buildings.

Even with the pleasant feeling of the wind pushing against him, Eren still felt something missing. There was nothing left pushing him to keep moving; Nothing to keep fighting for.

He kept swinging around, rooftop to rooftop, before he finally landed on the surface of Wall Maria. He laid down on the stone and just stared up towards the sky. Underneath his shirt, he felt the gear leaving harsher lines on his chest. Not that it mattered much to him. His hair flitted between his fingers as he tilted his head towards the sky.

Why can’t I be happy?

Eren was finally given the chance to live without fighting, yet he still wasn’t satisfied. He dedicated his life for years to kill the Titans. All for them to one day just vanish. He couldn’t transform anymore either. Everything Titan related was suddenly gone overnight. His hard work felt so meaningless once he had realized that there was nothing left for him to do.

He let out a sigh and sat back up. The sun had begun to set. Not wanting to deal with using his gear in the dark, he pushed himself up and started to head back to the place he called home.

---

Even though there was no need for the Survey Corps, many members still resided together. For the people who did leave, they visited frequently, not wanting to lose the bonds they had made. After so many battles, there weren’t many families and homes to go back to.

Which meant that finding an empty bathroom was a rare treat.

Eren was beyond a point of caring about his actions as he slammed the bathroom door shut. If someone was that desperate to use the bathroom, they could find another one.

He shoved his gear off, dropping the harness and belts in a heap. His captain would definitely chew him out for not taking proper care of the equipment, but that would be an issue for later Eren. The gear wasn’t needed anyways, it didn’t matter anymore.

He shook his head to clear the thought away, then twisted the handle. Water started to fill the bathtub. Maybe if he melted his skin off with the boiling water, he would start to feel something other than stuck here.

Eren didn’t do well with feeling like a bird trapped in a cage.

He slid off the rest of his clothes. The water had filled a bit more than halfway and Eren wasn’t going to wait any longer.

He turned off the water and sat in the tub. The longer he sat there with the water flowing around him, the more his thoughts began to drift. Frustration and anger could only last so long when you’re part of the problem.

Why did the Titans make them suffer for so long, just to disappear? How was he able to shift into one, only to lose that same ability?

Eren sank deeper into the water. The cold metal of the basement key warmed against him from the heat of his chest. The room darkened as the sun finally hid behind the horizon and Eren closed his eyes.

The sound of people walking through the halls and talking calmed Eren into a strange sense of tranquility. He felt the water glide over his skin, rippling from his movements. The calming feeling settled into a feeling of emptiness in his chest.

Eren decided, in one of the most emo ways possible, that the best solution to his problems would be to simply pretend they don’t exist.

His thoughts twisted and merged until there was nothing. The warmth of the water had lulled Eren fast to sleep.

---

Jean jolted up in his bed as he woke from a horrific nightmare. A wall of Colossal Titans were destroying the world outside the walls.

Jean shook the thought from his head. There was only one Colossal Titan, and it was gone for good. For some unknown reason. But, they were gone nonetheless.

Jean flopped back down onto his pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to chase the darkness and fall deep into sleep once more. Of course, the world had it out for him. He buzzed with energy, now wide awake with no chance of going back to sleep.

The urge to pee settled in while Jean continued to lay in his bed. He mentally thanked whoever swapped out their old bunk beds for standard twin sized beds as he crawled from the warmth of his sheets.

He was lucky enough to never have to hear the pipes of the bathrooms, but that came with the price of being annoyingly far from a toilet. He pushed himself up from the bed and tried his damnedest to avoid making it creak. He’d never hear the end of it if he woke someone up.

Jean made it halfway down the hall before he realized the bathroom light  was on, partially lighting the pitch dark hall. Jogging the last couple of steps, he twisted the knob, only to find the door locked.

“Anyone in here?” he tried, shuffling his weight as he waited for a response.

Silence echoed through the empty hall.

Jean decided to try his luck. At best, he would simply use the bathroom and go back to bed. And at worst, he would startle someone and get a kick out of it. Seemed like a win-win situation.

Being in the Survey Corps meant picking up a few handy skills along the way. And since Jean didn’t want to be on the Captain’s shit list, he made the wise choice of simply picking the lock, rather than kicking in the door and causing a litany of issues. Not that picking the lock was considerably hard. All it took was a couple of clicks, some jiggling of the doorknob, and the door swung open.

Jean was truly just hoping he could simply use the bathroom. Unfortunately, finding Eren unconscious in the tub meant that he would not be pissing or going back to sleep anytime soon.

A rock settled in Jean’s stomach as he ran towards the bath. Eren’s chest rose slowly; the water rippled gently around his sternum. A weight had lifted off Jean’s shoulders. The fear that something terrible had happened to Eren vanished almost as quickly as it had come.

Jean tried his best to shake Eren awake without getting a good look at his naked body, but well, Jean was a weak and curious man.

He gripped Eren’s shoulder tight, fighting against the smoothness the water left. Despite quite clearly being still asleep, Eren had let a murmur slip.

“Dude, just get up. I need to piss and I can’t deal with you like this,” Jean let out, defeated.

Eren didn’t move a muscle.

He left Jean no other choice. He started to haul Eren out of the bathtub, unconscious and all. Undressed and soaked, his skin was cold to the touch. Eren began to shift in Jean’s arms at the movement. His eyes began to flutter open.

“Hmm?” He hummed, disoriented as he tried to stand on his own.

Balancing a half-conscious Eren and trying to pull the bath drain at the same time ended up being a harder task than Jean expected it to be. Especially since Eren was becoming more lucid and trying to fight against Jean’s help.

Eren pulled at Jean’s wrist, “Fuck off. I’m not a bitch, let go of me. Let me go.” He continued to try and shove off Jean, but didn’t seem to get far. As worried as Jean was, he did still really need to pee.

“You know what dude? I’m going to piss and you better be clothed by the time I’m back.”

Jean ignores the grumble Eren lets out and helps him sit down on a nearby shower bench, then proceeds to abandon Eren’s miserable and soggy ass, finally getting to piss. 

When Jean gets back, Eren’s pathetic self hasn’t moved an inch. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the rise and fall of his chest, Eren would look dead on that stool. Which would be a sad way to go, considering he’s still completely naked. The lack of shame would honestly be pretty impressive, if Eren wasn’t moping and radiating depression.

Jean reached the realization that Eren isn’t going to make any move towards being functional. Or simply being miserable in bed like every other person. But, of course, that would be too simple. So, being the caring person he is, Jean once again temporarily abandons Eren to grab him some clothes.

He barely remembered to grab a towel on his way back into the bathroom, now unsurprised by Eren’s lack of movement.

Jean rubbed the plush fabric against Eren’s slightly damp thigh. He had mostly air dried at this point, but Jean wasn’t going to half ass taking care of him. Clearly something was messing with Eren’s head and maybe Jean wanted to ease some of the pain he was dealing with.

Not to say he had a clue what was bothering Eren. Could be a long list of things considering the shit they’ve been through. But he won’t pry, not with Eren being a massively mopey bastard.

Jean’s hand brushed over the newly dried skin before switching to the other leg. The towel absorbed water droplets as he stroked the towel across the exposed skin.

He shifted to Eren’s arms. Jean moved the towel mindlessly as Eren began to stir awake again.

“Hey there. Welcome back to the land of the living.” A smirk ghosted over his lips.

He quickly squeezed out as much water as he possibly could from Eren’s growing hair.

“You really should just cut this shit off,” he let out gently.

Eren stretched, letting out a yawn. “Ugh.”

“You probably wouldn’t feel like garbage if you hadn’t fallen asleep in the tub, y’know?”

“Eat shit.”

Jean snorted a laugh, “I’m just saying. You probably shouldn’t get too feisty with me since I’m the one taking care of you.”

“Whatever. I just want to go back to sleep.”

“Then sleep. I’ll take care of you,” he nearly whispered.

“M’kay.” And then Eren was slouching back against the wall, breathing softly.

Jean huffed out another laugh, rolling his eyes in fondness.

He’s gonna be the end of me.

Jean finished off on Eren’s chest, appreciating the smooth expanse of muscled skin. Only feeling slightly bad for thirsting over his…boyfriend? They hadn’t talked out feelings, but they had found stress relief in each other before with increasing frequency.

Not the time.

Shaking the thought from his mind, he set out to get Eren dressed. The clothes weren’t anything amazing, just something comfortable and soft to sleep in. Jean averted his gaze from looking too low as he slid underwear up Eren’s legs. Too much focus there really wouldn’t be appropriate right now. Next up were some sleep pants and a loose fitting undershirt. Eren hadn’t made any move to help or get up, trying as best as he could to simply not exist.

Jean was grateful for Eren to finally be dressed. He slid a hand across Eren’s back and under his knee, bridal carrying him. Although Eren was shorter than him, he was still way too large to carry his dead weight like this. And yet, Jean persisted anyway.

He may not have admitted it, but he maybe sorta kinda was in love with Eren. The idea of bridal carrying him to bed had never crossed his mind, seemingly too mushy gushy of a thought to have this soon. The warmth of having Eren pressed against him was comforting regardless.

Down the hallway, he blindly walked back towards his bed. The thought of bringing Eren to his own bed hadn’t crossed his mind beforehand and he realized his mistake once he reached the foot of the twin sized mattress.

How the fuck are we both going to fit?

As gently as he physically could, he placed Eren among the blankets. Eren, still asleep, rolled onto his side, facing away from Jean. There wasn’t much space left for Jean. He inched his way onto the bed, pressing himself right against Eren’s back. He wrapped an arm over the other’s waist, ensuring they’d stay close together. It also helped balance both of them on the small bed.

There were a lot of things they’d need to talk about in the morning. Mainly, whatever the cause of Eren’s spiral and how they’d explain to the others why they shared a bed when they both had their own perfectly good, separate, beds. But, in this moment, none of that mattered. What truly mattered was that Eren felt safe and could relax.

And well, what else would Jean do except ensuring just that?

[ravenwraithe]

Chasing Pasts in Shadows

part 3 | part 4 | part 5

"Great, fantastic." Will massaged his eyebrows. "We can't do anything more today, anyway. We just execute protocol and leave, because we are already an hour late for debrief."

"And my date after that."

"I don't think your boyfriend minds you being late, Max, he worships the ground you walk on." Mike sniffed.

"Who said I'm talking about Lucas?" Max smirked.

"No, no, Max, you stay away from my sister, or Dad and Jonathan will chase you away with guns. She doesn't need another rebellious influence in her life, Mike is enough as is."

"Will!" Mike protested. Will ignored him.

"You say that like Hop doesn't scream '3 inches!' whenever I come over."

"When did that happen? I thought you were still in the 'silent glare' stage?" Will hefted the heavy bag, handing it to Max, so she didn't have to come in. 

"A few months ago, Byers. Wheeler watch out, he is coming for your title," Max took the bag easily, walking away. 

"What title?" Mike called back.

"'The Most Oblivious'!"

"Fuck off!"

"Can't, we work together!" Mike glared at her till she turned the corner.

"Mike, hold these tripods and these cables." Will handed them, their fingers brushing.

"Thanks."

His own duffle slung over his shoulder, they returned to the place of interest.

Max had assembled some of the components right outside the door, waiting for Will to take them in. He and Mike quickly got to work, Will putting some of the cameras on their stands, connecting with the EVP mics and putting a piece of bread in specific spots, while Mike pointed out areas of high activity to focus on, like the knife block, and the island counter, while Reyes kept watch from a corner, finishing up sometime before evening. 

"-and turn on the system at 11:30 pm by pressing the black button on the camera nearest to the door. That's for today, we'll be back tomorrow to get the footage, and put more up after investigating more rooms," Will explained, putting his layered flannel back on. They stood at the gate, while Mike and Max put the rest of their special equipment back into the trunk. "I hope you understand why. It's just we were short-staffed today-"

"Oh no, no, it's okay, totally my fault," Reyes smiled as he reached for his wallet, pulling out a bill. 

Will's eyes widened as he saw the '100' on it. "Sorry, I don't have enough change-"

"Keep it, boy. You kids have more use for it than I do." Reyes gave a nod and started back in.

Will shuffled back to the car, a hundred dollars in hand. Max and Mike were done with the packing and pulling the car around to leave. Will got in the passenger side, his regular seat when Mike drove.

“Reyes tip you?” Max asked him from the backseat, tapping away at her phone,

“Thirty-three percent.”

“Damn, he was seriously that impressed with our half assed job?”

“I don't know, at least he wasn't a Karen about us upping the pay for the rest of the investigation.”

“Do you think Dustin would know what to do?” Mike asked, pulling onto an asphalt road. Finally the dust road was behind them, Will’s asthma could rest now.  

“I think we all need to come up with a plan now. All of us have never had to be on-field at the same time, so first of all we need to divide tasks, and assign partners.”

“I don't want to hear strategy while returning home,” Max hit the back of Will’s head lightly. “If we have to talk about work, at least read the info Dustin sent about the Reyes so we don't have to hear his rant about being ‘the only one smart and well prepared, about clients, locations and hauntings’, because he will chew us out for leaving the cameras unattended and the battery thing, as if we should be able to tell the future.” 

Will rubbed his head, “Alright, alright. If you interrupt with your stupid quips, I'll push you out of the car.” Will pulled up the google docs Dustin had shared with him, scrolling down to get an idea of how long it was. “What the fuck, why is this thing more links than text?” 

“Just read. I mean, how should I even know? I just don't want to get another rant about ‘not following protocol’.”

“Half of these links are for different profiles on Facebook.” Will muttered, scrolling down. “There’s a floor plan here, now definitely Dustin will be pissed.”

“Is there anything about Emily?” Mike peeked at his screen.

“Keep your eyes on the road, don't look down,” He scolded. “I'll try  to find somethi- Oh here, a page for someone named Emily Grimrose. It says she was 48 and married to Javier Reyes. She was apparently a stay at home wife and made a lot of knitted things to sell. There’s an alarming amount of Etsy stuff here. The usual selfies with weird angles that make her have a triple chin, some family photos with people who look like her extended family, a trip to some exotic place with lots of water, baking charity sales- wait wait wait, here's something weird, she posts stuff with fun, cute captions underneath, but this photo has a link with it. And that link looks like it leads to some weird occult website. Lots of crystals, incense, herbs and the like.”

“What?” Max leant from the back to get a better look at the picture. “She looks like she's in a dentist's office.”

“Is there anyone tagged in the photo?” Mike asked, thankfully not looking down at Will's phone this time.

Will checked. “A doctor named Amanda Maguire.”

“Maybe it’s her dentist’s name?” Max ducked back to flop sideways on the backseat.

“No, no, the dentist’s office belongs to Robbie Matthews, who has posters all over the city. Very popular dentist, no doubt expensive.”

“How did you know?” Mike asked, driving around a slow car. “Keep up with the speed limit, dick!” He said through the window.

“Just reverse image searched it.” Will was confused. “Amanda Maguire is a gynaecologist. I've never heard of her, or seen her. Why would someone who has a lot of money go to a gynaecologist who isn't well known?” Will scrolled further. “Oh shit.”

“Cut the dramatics, Byers, just spit it out.”

“Emily was pregnant when she died,” Will said, holding out the photo where the caption proclaimed “It’s time for the second trimester!” and showed a smiling Emily with another older woman, Dr. Amanda.

___

why do i keep ending at weird reveals? also lmao will really hates facebook for some reason

i have the entire thing planned out but i do not know how many chapters this will be sorry ;-;

aight disclaimer: i dont know shit about the service charge in america for anything, much less ghost hunting, so i tried my best to calculate it by using the minimum wage and product usage and wear and tear, the same way id do it here. if its too less or too high, lemme know

as always, this was betad by free version of grammarly and hemingway editor, so point out any errors you find

i cant seem to post in time but i do post around 1800 ist (i swear im trying to be more regular)

let me know if you like or disliked something :)

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday.

In 2007, Iran arrested 14 squirrels for spying.

Psychologically, that ‘what if’ feeling can literally be painful.

People now are 50% heavier and 4 inches taller than they were in 1900.

92% of people type things into Google to see if they spelled them correctly.

A 'moment' is officially defined as 90 seconds. (Remind you of your husband?)

The largest millipede in Tanzania is known as ‘the wandering leg sausage’.

In the middle ages, erect penises were thought to be full of pressurised air.

In the music industry, for every $1,000 of music sold, the average musician gets $23.40.

In Sweden, it is legal to be a prostitute, but it is illegal to be a customer of a prostitute.

Over 90% of mental diseases are either caused or complicated by the stressful act of overthinking.

Men don't generally finish maturing until around the age of 43. With women, it's around the age of 32.

Psychology says, the longer you hide your feelings for someone, the harder you fall for that individual.

When Wilfred R. Welsh discovered a new mineral, it was subsequently named after him, Welshite.

Psychologically, one of the most devastating things in life is when someone you care about gives up on you.

Diana Ross, who sang ‘Ain't No Mountain High Enough’, lost her ex-husband to a mountain climbing accident.

Herbert Spencer, who coined the phrase 'survival of the fittest', was the only one of eight siblings to reach adulthood.

Marijuana is the oldest natural, purest, and healthiest pain relief medication in the world. Its use dates back to 10 B.C.

Arnold Schwarzenegger was paid $15 million for his role in 'Terminator 2', which averaged out to $21,429 per word.

If you want to quit smoking, go to a sauna for 3 days in a row and you'll sweat out the nicotine which will make it easier to quit.

Female fish will fake orgasms to trick males into thinking they've successfully mated. Then they’ll swim off to find a better partner

In 2011, a Georgian woman, digging for copper to sell as scrap, sliced through a cable and cut off the whole of Armenia from the internet.

People that smell good behave more confidently, which makes them more attractive, even if others can't smell their perfume or cologne.

Following his grilling by US Congress members, TikTok CEO Shou Chew gained over 400,000 new followers in 24 hours.

World's shortest horror story consists of only two sentences: "The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door."

In Quito, Ecuador, there is a group of vigilantes that wander the streets at night and correct any incorrect grammar in graffiti around the city.

The slowest chess player of all time was probably Elijah Williams (1809-1854): nicknamed ‘The Bristol Sloth’. He averaged two and a half hours per move.

Female dragonflies avoid unwanted males by faking their own deaths, instantly crashing to the ground and lying motionless until the undesired male has passed by.

The first mobile phone call took place on 3rd April 1973. Motorola's general manager called their rivals AT&T to let them know they'd got there first.

Jesse James, the notorious outlaw from the 1800s, once gave a widow who housed him enough money to pay off her debt collector and then robbed the debt collector as the man left the widow's home.

For the 15th anniversary of the film Titanic, James Cameron changed the positions of stars in the sky in the final scenes, because Neil deGrasse Tyson had written to him to point out that they would be in a different position in the North Atlantic, April 1912.

A stray dog followed a Swedish racing team throughout their 430 mile endurance race in Ecuador. He went through jungles in the Amazon and swam across a river with them. All because one of the team had given him a meatball.

In the 1880s, the Harvard Observatory director was frustrated with his staff, and would say "My Scottish maid could do better!" So, he hired his Scottish maid, Williamina Fleming, who discovered tens of thousands of stars and more.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

[twitchystitchwitch]

@andragoras-in-vanity My grandparents decided they needed a "barn cat" after a mouse chewed through the cable of a fridge and ruined a very large quantity of meat. How did they get a barn cat? My grandpa, who is incredibly misogynistic and anthropomorphises animals to an absurd degree, went to the shelter and found the biggest male cat they had. He did 0 research to find out that male cats, especially fixed male cats, are more likely to play with rodents and then release them than actually kill them

He ended up getting a 3 year old fixed male cat from a suburban shelter, driving him 2.5 hours away, and releasing him. For 6 years the cat was their "barn" cat. On several occasions he was seen bringing live rodents into the barn and dropping them, for which he would be "disciplined". When they made the decision to sell their property I took the cat, and they pitched a fit over and over about how it would be abusive to lock him away inside. When I brought him home he was days away from dying from a bowel obstruction because they didn't have water for him to access outside of rancid puddles with oil and a pond full of pig shit, and it had all been frozen for a week. He had developed ulcers in his stomach from being unable to empty his bowels and those ulcers were infected. He had been a healthy body condition and weighed 12 pounds when they got him. He was 10 pounds when I brought him home, and his body condition was around a 3.5 out of 9. He also has asthma and allergies to several things like wood, pollen, hay, and dust. My grandparents believed that just because he was a cat he would he happier and they were "saving" him from being an indoor cat. Every single night this lump of a cat will plop himself on my back while I sleep and purr so hard he drools. Where I live my grandparents' aren't an anomaly. I once volunteered at a stable that had 30 disabled cats that they "saved" from shelters and dumped on the property to be "barn cats". Those cats were either so sweet and always trying to get into the offices to cuddle with people or they were so feral they would try to attack the children who rode at those stables and had to be flushed out of the arena every day before kids were allowed in. The ladies who ran those stables had worked on farms their entire lives, that was what they thought a barn cat should be. I haven't ever spoken to anyone that lives near me who has a farm or a ranch that actually thinks of barn cats as something other than a cat they toss outside. Victor, the cat my grandparents dumped on their property, was actually locked out of the barns at night so he wouldn't get into things! They thought he would still somehow be able to deter mice from outside of the barn

I can think of a really easy solution to this problem.

[chanfictions]

Sex with Kisame/fem! reader hehehe. Sex in its normal form and when fused with Samehada, his monstroform. Two extending inhuman penises!

I completely blame (and thank) @mytanuki-kun for this episode's content 👾 🦈. Also, uh, this ask. Yeah. It's part of Count now. I know it wasn't supposed to be buuuuuut I do what I want. I don't know if this should have been a special episode, but meh -- it is what it is. I've been teasing about this episode's special guest... and welp, here he is! For my Kakuzu x !masochistReader x Hidan fans/shippers, don't worry -- just read through until the end.

More credit to Tanuki for this headcanon of Kisame (seriously, go read her Baby series because oh gods is that pure fucking gold). Our DMs are either cursed or magical. You decide which 🙈 I'm gonna just drop this and run. Enjoy!

Count - Pt. 6

Kisame x Reader, Kakuzu x Reader

18+ Content! Minors, DNI!

Warnings: bondage, D/s dynamics, masochism, pain play, fingering, brat taming, monster dicks, knotting, size kink, bulges, overstimulation-ish, some mentions of blood, alcohol, creative use of Samehada, smut, smut, smut.

Part 1 - Bonus Scene - Part 2 - Special Episode: Red - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Special Episode: Nightmares - Part 6 - Part 7 - Special Episode: Sick Day - Part 8 - Special Episode: Nightmares Pt. 2

6k

Sitting at the table in the base's shared kitchen, you drummed your fingertips absentmindedly next to where your cheek was squished flat upon its surface. The day had drifted at a slow crawl in a strange, dreamy haze, and you were bored out of your mind. Bored, intolerably antsy, and hellishly pent up to be exact. Your feet fidgeted beneath you with minds of their own, tangling themselves around the legs of your chair as you watched Kisame's silhouette move about the kitchen as he rummaged for something to eat with Samehada still slung across his back. Though, it would be more accurate to say you were staring. Your mind was going to dubious places as your hungry eyes fixated upon the rippling, steel cables of muscle that strained his skin with every movement of his beefy arms, imagining how hard they might be able to swing a strap of leather. An airy sigh breezed past your lips as you remained so focused on him and entrenched in your dream world that you hardly noticed the movement occurring around you.

Kisame turned, eyebrow cocked upon hearing that wispy little sound, curiously eyeing your melted form that was ogling him like a starving dog. "You good?" The depth of his raspy voice didn't help with your little problem, leaving you shifting in place with a huff and a growl, coaxing the straw of your drink into your mouth with your tongue, lazily maneuvering it to avoid lifting your head.

"She's just sulking." Kakuzu's gruff, mocking tone hummed from behind you.

"Am not," you muttered around the straw between your teeth.

"And apparently so desperate for a beating since Hidan's been away that she's sizing you up," Kakuzu snickered to Kisame from behind his mask, now standing beside him with arms crossed over his chest in full view of your face as it twisted in annoyance. "Can't even go two weeks without it now."

"Shut up, Kakuzu," you snapped.

"Desperate, needy little masochist," he sneered tauntingly.

"Says the horny old yarn ball who plants whiskey traps to find any excuse to fuck my lights out," you retorted sharply.

Kisame barked with laughter, turning completely to face the spot where you were definitely not pouting. "Oh, someone's mouthy today," he teased with a crooked smirk.

"Bite me," you snarled defensively, eyes narrowing into a smoldering glare as you contemplated playing with fire.

The amused, mocking laughter continued to hum between the two men, rolling into a low warning that was delivered upon a wicked, toothy smile from Kisame as the sentient sword chittered softly on his back. "Careful, darlin'."

With a cheeky snort, you shifted up onto an elbow, sliding your drink in front of you as you chewed on the straw. "Or what?"

"You might get what you wish for," Kisame grinned.

"She'd like that," Kakuzu grunted. "Maybe I should let you teach her some manners."

A twisted smirk pulled at your lips as you tongued your teeth and eyed the pair leaning against the counter with lecherous thoughts cranking the gears in your head. With a bubble of deviance swelling in your chest as you twirled your straw with your tongue, you decided to poke the bear. "What, can't handle me without Hidan now, old man? Gotta call in the cavalry?"

Kakuzu's eyes darkened, boiling over with the same vicious haze that always overtook them when you got into one of these saucy moods as he stepped toward you, casting an ominous shadow over your face as he loomed down from above. "I think it's time to try something different with you," he gruffed in a low, gravelly sneer.

"I think you're all out of ideas," you stared up at him challengingly, that haughty smile still playing at your lips. "And you're so desperate that you think the threat of involving Kisame is going to make me come undone."

"You have quite the little monster on your hands, Kakuzu," Kisame rumbled with amusement.

Eyes aglow with a bratty mean streak, you took another long sip of your drink, still locked in your staring contest with Kakuzu. "You're going senile if you think Kisame can hit me hard enough to make me crack after the bloody mess I made with Hidan last time."

Raspy laughter rolled from Kisame's chest. "Are you out of your mind? I'd snap you like a twig."

You just giggled, never breaking eye contact with Kakuzu. "Sounds like fun." You were definitely playing with fire. Now, you just needed to figure out which buttons of Kisame's you needed to push to rile him up.

With a fresh hunger blazing in his eyes, a deep hum rumbled in Kisame's throat as he barked an order. "Come here."

"Make me."

With a gruff snarl, Kakuzu snatched you by the throat, fingers digging harshly into your skin as he dragged you out of your chair onto your feet. "You need to be reminded that you aren't as difficult to break as you pretend to be, girl. You seem to have forgotten that you came crawling to my bed after the last time because you had nightmares," he growled a cruel taunt in your ear, a smirk pulling at his stitched mouth as he made brief eye contact with Kisame.

Your cheeks burned with a mix of lust and embarrassment as Kakuzu's grip on your throat tightened. A needy heat throbbed between your legs that was swiftly becoming difficult to ignore. With your eyes now following Kisame's movements, a twisted smile crossed your lips as you tongued your teeth again, gaze flicking between the pair. "Try me."

"Oh?" Kisame hummed curiously, casually approaching where Kakuzu stood with you pinned with your back to his chest.

Eyeing Kisame up and down like a slab of meat at a supermarket, a heat burned and coiled in your core, rolling a low, hungry hum from your chest and causing you to fidget in Kakuzu's grasp, wagging your ass against him teasingly as you gasped around the constriction at your throat. Pinned between the two towering men, your heart beat with a wild excitement as you locked eyes with the subject of your new game. Tingling pulses of heat ripped through your body. The anticipation was already driving you mad, as you were fully aware of just how strong Kisame was. He wasn't known as the "Tailed Beast Without A Tail" for nothing -- and that impending danger just filled you with an insatiable need to figure out what all of his buttons were and push them. Repeatedly.

Kisame leered at you curiously as you taunted him with your stare, glancing at Kakuzu briefly before returning his attention to you. This should be interesting. "You want me to break you, that it?" Tilting your face up with a hand gripping you by the cheeks, he leaned down until he was eye level with you with a wicked, toothy grin stretched across his face.

That bubble of delicious defiance swelled in your chest as Kisame loomed over you while you were still pinned to Kakuzu by your throat, your pulse thrumming rapidly beneath his rough fingertips. Licking your lips and wearing your most mischievous expression, you locked eyes with him and issued your challenge. "Like I said… try me."

"You're going to have to do better than that," he hummed teasingly, squishing your cheeks in the grip of his hand. "What's the magic word, princess?"

With a devious smirk and a gasping giggle, you wrenched your face out of his grip and rasped out the taunt that you knew was about to get you into a world of trouble. "Bite me, fish-boy."

The swordsman roared in your face with laughter, finding your foolish boldness to be almost endearing as took you from Kakuzu's grip and hauled you over his shoulder with a playful smack to the back of your thighs, resulting in you erupting into giddy cackles that deafened you to the pair's conversation as to how exactly they were going to deal with you as they walked down the hall toward Kakuzu's room with you slung over Kisame's shoulder like a carnival prize.

The mood shifted markedly once you were behind Kakuzu's closed door, though, and the lengths of rope came out. Your heart hammered its way into your mouth as you stood pinned between the hungry pair beneath the hook in the ceiling that was the epicenter of most of your shenanigans. Heat twisted and knotted in your core as something predatory washed over Kisame's unusual features and his impressively large hand gripped your chin. A dark fire smoldered in those monstrous eyes as he studied you while Kakuzu strung you up like a piñata for him. The hands moving over your body had you shuddering with need and left a mouthful of taunts rolling impatiently upon your tongue as they peeled off your clothes. A content sigh breezed through your teeth when the rope tightened around your wrists, drawing your bare feet up away from the ground with the new height you were being granted. "Well, big guy? Gonna show me if those teeth are just for show, or what?"

"You're playing a dangerous game," he growled in your face, baring those pointed teeth, not having to lean down much now that you were swinging idly from the ceiling. "Even if you are a masochist, you have a breaking point," Kisame hummed as his hot breath fanned your neck.

"Mm… good luck with that. Hidan always gives in before I do," you purred back, snapping your teeth next to Kisame's ear as you curled your legs around his waist to pull yourself closer to him, undoubtedly stoking the flames of arousal as you felt him twitch hard beneath the fabric of his pants against your naked cunt.

Kisame's massive hands roughly groped your ass as those pointed teeth scraped across the skin just below your jawline leaving neat red lines in their wake as you gasped and moaned in response. His raspy voice buzzed in a low, dangerous growl into your ear. "Hate to break it to you, darlin', but I'm a hell of a lot stronger than Hidan is."

Eyes blazing with an untamed lust, you just giggled at him, dropping your head back to taunt the ceiling with your quiet laughter as you untangled your legs from him and poked his solid abs with your foot to send yourself into a slow spin. "Prove it."

"I told you the little brat loves this shit," Kakuzu grunted as he moved from his spot to rifle through his cabinet to pour himself a glass of whiskey, settling himself onto the couch to watch with a twisted smirk hidden under his mask. Lips curled into a snarl, Kisame eyed Kakuzu before stepping away from your mocking pirouette to snatch a thick leather strap from Kakuzu's collection of items that had been set out for the occasion.

"Oooh, I like that one," you grinned giddily, tonguing your teeth as you eyed the leather swinging from the end of his muscular arm. "Come on, big boy. Hit me." The thunderous crack made by that strap as Kisame swung it with an inhuman amount of strength almost caught you off guard and left your eyes watering and rolling back into your head in delight as the heavy impact that followed ripped a dark, raised welt across your ass. The pain was delicious, and you needed more. A content groan hissed through your teeth that was tailed by a happy giggle as the motion turned you to face Kisame with that taunting smile still playing at your lips until you feigned a pout. "Come on, Kisame… hit me like you mean it."

Heat simmered under your skin as Kisame eyed you intensely with Samehada chirping and chittering excitedly on his back. "Oh, so that's the game we're playing," he murmured to himself.

"Ki-sa-meee--" you sang as you spun until the next heavy crack that followed knocked the wind out of you as the leather strap wrapped around your ribs, snaking a bruise around your torso that left you rasping psychotic laughter into the sky, drunk on the wicked ache that tore through your body.

"That what you wanted?" Kisame snarled back as he struck you again in a slow, heavy rhythm that was so different from the chaotic fury you were accustomed to, yet so, so delicious in its own way. Kisame, meanwhile, was quietly impressed that you were still begging for more.

You found your voice again between the strikes that sent you swaying like windchimes in a storm and painted you with stripes of white-hot bruises, choking out your next taunt as the leather that wound around your inner thigh left you shuddering and teetering on the edge of madness. "Harder." Sweat began prickling and glistening upon your skin as the inferno building in your core swelled and raged. You were soaked. Slick glistened and coated the insides of your thighs as you goaded Kisame into another set of strikes.

Kakuzu hummed with dark rolls of laughter in the background as he removed his mask to enjoy a sip of burning liquid amber from the glass in his hand. Not being the subject of your little game and watching from the sidelines was entertaining to say the least, but he couldn't just observe for long -- not when you were succeeding in twisting Kisame into giving you exactly what you wanted with your bratty antics. "I told you, pain just makes the little slut wet." Setting his glass aside, Kakuzu rose from his comfortable perch and strode over to where you swung, eyes smoldering as he approached.

Heart pounding in your ears, you gasped excitedly as a familiar set of strong hands groped your throbbing bruises before arms snaked around your body from behind. One rough hand curled around your neck and the other teased your needy pussy for a moment with a low growl rumbling through your entire being. You swallowed hard in an effort to maintain your little mask of defiance, arching into the rough hand teasing your clit and moaning when he abruptly sunk two thick fingers into your throbbing heat. "I mean… I think we've established that I'm a ma--haaah-sochist."

"That's just a side effect of your little party trick, though, isn't it?" Kisame cooed, his expression now seeming more sinister as he spoke with a frighteningly knowing tone.

"Pa--haaah--rty t-trick?" You faltered as you fought to maintain your resolve, distracted by the delicious sensation of Kakuzu's fingers curling against your silky walls before they suddenly left you achingly empty. "You're going to call the blood trait that has kept your partner alive all this time a party trick?"

Kisame chuckled as he flashed you a wicked, toothy grin and he reached over his shoulder to grip Samehada's handle to still the wriggling sword. "No, that isn't. But the seemingly inhuman pain tolerance you gain from that chakra in your blood is. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

Time abruptly stopped as your eyes darted to meet Kisame's, the bratty air of confidence rapidly draining from your body as your heart fluttered into your mouth. "W-what?"

"I can sense all of that, and so can Samehada," Kisame rumbled as he gripped your flaming face, now seeming much more serious. His grin only widened at the heat blazing under his fingertips. "Kakuzu knows all about the heat that your people put off when they heal, but he isn't aware of what else you can do with that chakra of yours, at least if you get the balance just right. That's your real party trick," he murmured wickedly in your ear. "I wonder, how does it feel when that chakra is taken away from you?"

Oh, fuck. This was decidedly not part of your game plan and twisted your insides into anxious knots.

"Oh, did Kisame strike a nerve?" Kakuzu goaded as his calloused palm slid roughly over your stomach as your body stiffened. "No snide little comebacks this time?"

Your face said it all, as both men hummed around you with amusement. Kakuzu's hand around your throat tightened and held you firmly against his thick chest as Kisame stared directly at you with an animalistic glint in his eye, releasing your face as he drew a very restless Samehada from his back. A nervous whine rattled in your throat as you wriggled in Kakuzu's grasp, eyes widening as the sword chittered and lunged at you.

"Hold still, darlin'," Kisame cooed. "I don't want to completely cut you to ribbons just yet."

"K-kakuzu--" you stammered pleadingly to whom you hoped would be the more reasonable of the two. Your heart pounded wildly and you were rapidly losing your grip on your breathing as you twisted in his grasp as fear bubbled and knotted in your chest.

"Don't. Move," Kakuzu ordered in a low growl. While he knew you had mixed feelings about knifeplay to begin with and had to be in the right frame of mind for it, Samehada hardly counted as a knife, and he reminded you of that quietly. "It isn't really a blade."

Kisame chuckled darkly as he closed the gap, stepping toward you and cupping your face soothingly with a large palm while angling the sword away from you for a moment. "She's cute when she's scared," he hummed with a cruel smile, taking in the sight of your coming undone as the sentient thing crawled over his shoulder and nuzzled itself into your torso like a needy dog. Spines emerging from the bandages reached out and tasted your flesh, drinking your chakra and drawing gashes in their wake. "Calm down, Samehada just wants a little taste," he crooned when you twisted fearfully, brushing his thumb across your trembling cheek, locking on to your wide, frightened eyes. "Be a good girl and stay still for me so it doesn't get too excited and rip you to shreds."

Your thoughts began to hum and swirl with hazy fog. The fight was slowly draining from your limbs, leaving you feeling heavy, weak, and unsettlingly cold as your body heat seemed to be vanishing along with your chakra. Your skin throbbed with a new, foreign ache clinging to your fresh bruises and gashes that your spinning brain couldn't quite fathom. Dizzy, confused, and now sinking with a growing sense of impending danger, you whimpered nervously and tried to shift in your bindings, only for the sentient blade to hiss and nestle itself more tightly into you.

"Relax," Kakuzu rumbled in your ear as the world around you stopped making sense. His presence and firm hold on your body were the only things keeping you grounded enough to not completely panic with that thing tearing into your skin. "That's enough, Kisame. She's going to pass out if you take any more."

Kisame's pupils were blown as he tightened his grip on the sword's handle and peeled it away from your trembling body despite its chittering protests, admiring the deep red lines and trails of trickling blood that now painted your skin. Intoxicated by the rush of your strange chakra and swept up in the bloodlust that came with handling that sword, thick arousal washed over his senses.

"Feel… everything," you mumbled, your face falling into Kisame's hand as your body hung limply from the ropes around your wrists.

"That's different, isn't it?" He mused with a predatory glint returning to his eye, noticing the shift in your reactions to pain when he dug his fingers into a particularly dark bruise.

You grimaced and mumbled an unintelligible confirmation with a weak nod.

"You aren't so mouthy without that chakra to rely on," Kisame grinned, turning your head and grazing your neck with sharp teeth, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. "I don't know if she can handle another strike from that strap like this. What do you think, Kakuzu?"

"I think she'll tap out after two," Kakuzu growled the challenge in your ear, running a rough palm up your side. He was surprised when you shook your head, breathing heavily as your weakened body shuddered when his hand passed over the welts Kisame made.

"Can't," you mumbled, struggling to string your thoughts together.

"Aw, poor thing," Kisame cooed, thumbing your cheek. "Maybe we should be nice and take you down from that rope."

"I like her all tied up with nowhere to run," Kakuzu gruffed with a wicked smirk. "You had fun the last time Hidan and I fucked you like this," he growled in your ear, running his palms over your thighs.

With a whimpering whine, you eyed the equally impressive bulge straining Kisame's pants and recalled a playful threat Kakuzu made the last time you were in his bed. "Won't fit."

Kisame rumbled with raspy laughter. "We'll go easy on you this time," he teased, brushing his thumb over your lip, relishing the blissed out look that washed over your face as Kakuzu slipped two fingers into your aching core again, sending your eyes rolling back into your head.

You were rapidly losing your tenuous grip on reality as the arms around you shifted confusingly and you lost track of whose hands were where. Deep rasps and low, gravelly voices swirled around your head, offering a confounding combination of taunts and praises as thick fingers stretched and filled your needy little pussy while others pressed and kneaded your throbbing bruises. Sharp teeth flashed across your neck. The heat of their bodies pressing against yours consumed you. You heard yourself moan and whimper into whichever shoulder was currently in front of you, as you no longer had the strength to hold your head up. Lust knotted and twisted in your belly, leaving your walls fluttering and you begging for release. The combination of newly painful bruises and near orgasmic bliss was making it impossible to find words.

"So close already?" Kisame hummed as he gripped your chin in one hand to see the pathetic look on your face as you bit back a moan.

"Please, fuck me," you mewled between gasps, not sure who to beg as they both seemed to play an equal part in tormenting you.

The thick need swirling in your tone was intoxicating and only further stirred the animalistic instincts screaming in his head. "I'm really going to end up hurting her if we don't take her down for this," Kisame hissed through gritted teeth as his pants grew uncomfortably tight.

With a knowing sound of agreement, Kakuzu slipped his fingers from your core, leaving you whimpering and fluttering around nothing as Kisame picked you up by the backs of your thighs to take a bit of weight off of your numb hands so Kakuzu had the slack needed to unclip them from the ring above your head. "Are you going to be a good girl for Kisame?" He growled lowly, his voice rumbling through his chest and into your back.

"Yes, sir," you breathed. Those two little words made Kakuzu's arousal twitch against your ass as he freed your hands and draped your tingling arms around his partner's shoulders.

A low, raspy groan hummed in Kisame's chest as your cunt brushed against his clothed bulge. "I should warn you, men from my clan are a little… different," Kisame grunted as his hot breath fanned your neck. He struggled to resist the urge to sink his teeth into your flesh again when another little whimper crackled in your throat as his fingers dug into the welts on your thighs.

"She's not going to care about that, trust me," Kakuzu gruffed as he pressed your head down against Kisame's shoulder before stepping away and grabbing a large towel, which he threw down over his bed to avoid smearing your blood all over his sheets.

Your head was spinning as you melted against Kisame's warmth. "Don't care," you echoed in a soft mumble. The needy throb that pulsed through your core left you using what bit of energy you had left to roll your hips against Kisame's tenuously contained package, eliciting a warning growl that breezed past your ear on his hot breath. "Ki-sa-me." His name left your lips in slow, airy syllables as you nuzzled your face into his neck.

Hearing those three little sounds only made urgent matters more pressing. Kisame groaned low and deep as he set you down on your back on the towel Kakuzu laid out, caging you in under his looming form and admiring the absolute wreck he had made of you. A large palm smoothed over your bruised, broken skin, leaving sticky smears of blood in its wake from wounds that hadn't closed. The sight of you was intoxicating enough, let alone the smell. The rich scent of blood mixed with your unusual chakra left Kisame bristling with a hunger that could only be satisfied by completely possessing you. That raspy voice rumbled through your head as he tapped your cheek to get your attention. "You good?"

With soft, rattling moan escaping your parted lips as his hand played over your bruises, you nodded and hooked your fingers into the waistband of his pants with a great deal of effort to move your arm that far, giving it a needy tug as your lidded gaze shifted up to meet his. "Please--"

"Fuck," Kisame groaned, slipping the subjects of his warnings free of their confines as he discarded his pants.

Your eyes widened with confused excitement as not one, but two meaty cocks sprang free from their cloth prison and fell heavily against your belly, smearing hot beads of precum against your skin. "How…"

"Told you, we're different," Kisame growled, unable to contain himself now, fisting the first meaty length and sinking it slowly into your fluttering core as it flooded you with hot gobs of cum.

You yelped, your breath catching in your throat as you squirmed under him, eyes rolling back as the strange sensations began warping your already confused perceptions of pain and pleasure. The ache tearing through your body left by Samehada's love bites began pulsing in the most delicious way -- the lingering pain morphing into something completely mind-meltingly different. "Kisa--" You clawed at his chest, your back rolling into a wicked arch as the substance filled your tight cunt and sent the rest of your senses haywire.

"I know," he murmured, your breathy panting and the pulsing grip of your tight little hole making it difficult to concentrate as he rutted his first cock into you, pressing a heavy palm against your stomach to keep you on the bed.

A throaty moan rolled from your chest as you heaved and panted, the mounting sensations bordering on madness. The ache in your bones had entirely melted and given way to an undefinable, needy arousal that made you want to crawl into a nest made of Kisame and disappear. "Kisame--" you mewled and stammered more urgently, struggling to overcome the fatigue of your chakra-drained limbs to coil yourself around him like a python. "Need it, both -- need both--"

Kakuzu's low laughter rumbled from the other side of the room, amused at the state you had been reduced to as he retrieved his glass of whiskey and found himself a good seat to enjoy the view, palming himself through his pants after settling into his spot. "Told you she'd like it."

"Shoulda taken you up on this sooner," Kisame grunted, pressing the second engorged head against the girth of the first, straining to keep control of himself as it slowly made room, parting your walls further and completely stuffing your tight cunt.

"Fuu--haaa--huull, so good -- Kisame--," you squeaked, drunk on the confusing sensations smoldering under your skin and clawing at his arms desperately as his second cock sunk further into you. "T-too--"

"Shh," he rumbled, settling between your trembling legs and petting your sweaty hair out of your face in an effort to ground you as you whimpered and gasped beneath him in your struggle to adjust to the overwhelming feeling of fullness that was now the center of your existence. Suppressing the urge to pin your legs to your chest and rail you into the next life was growing incredibly difficult as the grip of your fluttering walls on his meaty cocks was driving him insane. "Look at me, darlin'."

The rasp of his voice struck you differently now, as your entire being was flooded and overtaken by the essence that was plugged into you by those thick cocks. The world melted into a strange, dreamy haze, making you forget where you even were. A large palm cradling your face directed your attention to the source of the sound, but the only response you could offer was a lusty moan that vaguely resembled the word 'please' and a roll of your hips that sent shockwaves of pleasure tearing through your body.

"Good girl," he murmured, finally feeling you relax enough to be able to move. With a low growl when you clenched around him, he closed one massive hand around your throat, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your neck as he roughly rutted both cocks into your strained little pussy, relishing every gasp and cry that struggled to make its way past your lips.

"Kisa--fuck, s-so--" You stuttered and hiccupped, twisting in his grip and crying out at the ceiling as the tight knot of heat in your core swelled and finally burst. Stars erupted across your vision as the wave of pleasure ripping through your body stole the air from your lungs. Your heels dug weakly against the bed as you fumbled for anything to hang on to as your walls tightened and pulsed around the impossible girth filling you.

Instinct began overriding reason as the sight and sound of you drove Kisame to the brink. A clattering chirp briefly caught his attention between the loud, wet slaps of skin as he now noticed Samehada had skittered its way over to him as he fucked the sense out of you, swelling and gnashing its scales excitedly as the thick cloud of your chakra consumed them both. "It wants another taste," he gruffed into your neck with another snap of his hips.

The presence went unnoticed to you until Kisame's voice filled your head. Struggling to make sense of what he was saying, you shook your head, biting your lip and whining as each thrust drove you deeper into blissful outer space. "Can't--"

"Not like before," he growled lowly, raking his teeth against your neck to draw another loud moan from you as a distraction. "Trust me?"

Not even thinking, you just cried his name again, consumed by the delightful pang left behind from his teeth piercing your flesh as another blinding orgasm washed over you and took with it any ability to reason. "Y-yes!" Without another word, Kisame released your throat and grasped Samehada's handle. You yelped, as the transformation that began was immediately apparent.

His size. All of his size.

The bed shifted and groaned under his increasing weight as he began taking on a more predatory appearance. Teeth sharpened and eyes gained a more vicious glare as fins erupted from his back. His large hands morphed into claws and the already monstrous cocks nestled in your tight cunt swelled and grew just the same, leaving you a gasping, pleading mess under him as another orgasm ripped through your body from the stretch alone as he fucked you through the growth. Thanks to the dizzying substance he flooded you with at the start, his cartoonishly massive size wasn't painful, but the sensation was so overpowering that you couldn't think straight as the creature you knew as Kisame loomed above you, taking a heavy, clawed hand and pressing against the now prominent bulge in your belly with a toothy grin stretched across its face. The intoxicating aura that engulfed you sent the rest of the room fizzling away as those massive, meaty cocks were repeatedly thrust into your wrecked pussy. Your skin pulsed and throbbed with every motion. A strange warmth had replaced your perception of pain, sending you flying off into a new realm of reality, far out of your head. The orgasms crushed you in increasingly intense waves that now left you sobbing into the monster's nearest shoulder with each release.

Kisame grunted, pinning your knees to your chest to reach a new depth to satisfy the raging instinct to completely fill you, mumbling a low apology as the knot at the base of his cocks began swelling inside your already stuffed little hole. He slowed the deep ruts of his hips, feeling the rapid approach of his own release.

"Kisa--aaaaah--me," you cried, trying to squirm away from him as the feeling became more than you could tolerate. So full and hot, your brain completely malfunctioned.

"Fuck," he grunted through his teeth, unable to cease the motion as he finally unleashed a low, rumbling snarl that shook your entire being as your ruined pussy milked him dry.

Filled to the brim with heat and unable to shift the intensity of the absolute fullness of your stretched and overstuffed cunt, you sobbed with a mix of relief and fatigue, your body trembling as Kisame slowly untangled your legs. "C-can't, Kisame -- s'too much," you choked out through raspy sobs.

"Shh. I'm sorry, darlin'," he crooned, cradling your face carefully in a massive, webbed hand, heart still pounding as he kept you pinned to the bed despite your weak struggling. "I know. Just give it a minute."

Your head spun under the influence of a drained chakra reserve and the intoxicating pheromones that must have been the source of the shift in your perceptions, leaving you struggling to piece things together as the creature on top of you cooed gentle praises next to your head. The monster's massive arms curled around your trembling body, eventually rolling over and bringing you onto his chest. Words played and swirled in your head, as you wanted to speak but your mouth just wouldn't get with the program and only produced a soft groan.

A heavy, familiar hand came to rest on your back, slowly drumming the soothing rhythm that left you drifting between somewhere and nowhere at all.

.

.

.

.

...where am I again?

.

.

.

.

A warm, heavy hand on your shoulder jarred you so thoroughly that your perception cracked, momentarily layering two realities on top of one another. You shrieked, jolting out of your chair so clumsily that you tumbled onto the floor, launching your drink into the wall with a flail of your arms. Blinking, sweating, and breathing heavily, your head snapped around the room as you struggled to catch up.

Kakuzu would never… what the fuck?

"Darlin', you good?"

"What?" You groaned, your voice husky from sleep as you blinked up at the source of the sound. Staring down at you with amusement staining his features was none other than the subject of what you now hoped was your rather vivid dream -- Kisame. Your face immediately flashed with a roiling heat, burning your ears and cheeks so thoroughly that you felt your head might actually burst.

"You were talking in your sleep," Kisame gruffed with a knowing smirk.

Oh, fuck. In that instant, you felt your soul leave your body.

Flashing you a wicked, toothy grin, he loomed down from above and feigned a menacing stare as he crouched down to where you landed, casually resting his elbows on his legs. "So, what's this about me having two monster dicks?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bent, not broken 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; violence; injury; blood; drugging, tags to be added throughout series.

This is a dark!fic and features the winter soldier and Captain Hydra x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: An attack leads to the uncovering of decades old secrets when you are taken by the deadliest assassin in the world

Note: Thank you all for your patience with this :) So happy to get part 2 out!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The man with the metal arm brought you a set of plain grey clothes. It was the type of shapeless linen given to patients in a long-term facility or inmates at a prison. When you struggled to lift your right shoulder over your head and winced as your ribs throbbed, he helped you get into the long-sleeved shirt, pulling the fabric down gruffly and backing away.

You shoved your feet into the rubber shoes, and held your arm across your middle, as you stood with shoulders curled forward pathetically. You hobbled to the door as he beckoned to you. You were reluctant to leave the room, fearful of a worse prison ahead. You didn’t have much choice in the matter; resistance was a ridiculous idea given your injuries. 

As it was, you were still too hazy with shock and pain to even think of doing anything other than what you were told. You only hoped that you would have a moment to lay down again. Standing up was torture, even just breathing, and those fleeting moments of sleep were your only relief.

The halls stretched on and on. The twists and turns seemed counterintuitive as he led you along and when you didn’t walk fast enough, he grabbed your arm and dragged you along. You limped and tripped several times but he hardly noticed as he kept his eyes forward.

He brought you out into the sombre grey evening and the gulp of cold air was like a slap in the face. You didn’t know how long it was since you last felt the outside, but it made you tear up. The subtle chill tickled your nose and sent a shiver up your neck. It didn’t feel real, not after the stifling stillness of that white room.

He ushered you over to the boxy black vehicle and opened the backdoor. He nudged you and pointed inside. You looked at him and then around at the barren dirt. You braced the side of the doorframe and grunted as you tried to climb up into the backseat. You gasped and dropped back onto the ground and touched your ribs.

He sniffed and you flinched as his hand came up under your ass and he pushed you up and into the car. You groaned and landed heavily across the seat and kept yourself from sliding onto the floor. You turned back just as he slammed the door.

You coughed and reclined against the seat. You watched him climb in the front, a clear barrier between the front and back of the vehicle. The engine turned and hummed as he played with the controls. A screen above the dash lit up and showed coordinates on a map as several switches lit up below.

The jeep began to move as he steered mechanically away from the building. You peeked back at the grey brick and stretched your legs out as you leaned on the door. You rocked with the motion of the wheels but each jolt made you whimper. You closed your eyes and quelled the panic bubbling in your stomach.

You knew it couldn’t be good. None of it was. Waking up in that closet, being locked up in that white room, and now, your unknown destination hardly meant a mysterious fate. The Captain’s leer returned to you and his ominous words. The way he ordered the masked man around like a dog worried you more.

When you next opened your eyes, just about to doze off, you heard a subtle buzz through the barrier. Next to the screen, a phone was propped up and the timer counted up the minutes in the call. You couldn’t read what you assumed was Russian Cyrillic and you couldn’t quite hear the words coming from the speaker.

You sighed and it caused a stab in your ribs. You closed your eyes again and opted to try to cling onto your fatigue. It wouldn’t matter if you could hear the conversation, likely one-sided as it was, or if you could figure out where that little blinking tag on the map was. None of it made a difference. You could be certain you would not escape those men.

★

Mountains rose with sun through the slits of your eyelids. You batted away the sleepiness and shifted as you looked around at the rocky landscape, the road ahead steep and winding as the tires gripped the dirt. The angle of your ascent made your stomach flip and you leaned into the corner more heavily.

When the terrain plateaued, the mist thick around you, you dared to move and craned to peer around at the obscured lands below. The man drove on along the trail, just wide enough for the wide military vehicle and steered into the open mouth of a cave hidden between tall rocks jutting out from the mountain face.

The darkness consumed all but the glowing screen and symbols in the front of the vehicle and when the tires crunched to a halt, you sat up cautiously. The lights all went out and the front door opened and closed. The door behind you swung open and the rigid metal grip pulled you out. 

Your feet hit the ground harshly and you stumbled against the man’s unwavering posture. The door shut and he sidled you ahead of him between the metal and stone. You couldn’t see in the suffocating blackness of the cave but he walked on without hesitation. His hold on your arm was the only guide you had.

He stopped as the air grew sharp and startlingly cold. Your teeth chattered and you heard the shift of rock against rock. A glowing blue oval appeared, as if floating, and he covered it with his thumb. A low rumble came from deep in the mountain and suddenly the slate before you shifted and a wall of light shone over you.

He shoved you through the door and followed, the metal door sliding closed as the rock wall on the other side clattered back into place. You looked up and down the hallway. The walls were constructed of metal sheets and the atmosphere was just as sterile as that before. Each door was thick and firmly shut, a keypad set into the wall by every frame.

The metal finger pointed you ahead of the masked man and you staggered down the long hall. He led you from behind, a right turn and then to the end. The only open door led to a peculiarly cozy room. The walls were made of rippled wood and lent the air of a cabin as the fireplace burned with artificial flames. There was a long sofa and two plaid armchairs, and the place was decorated like a real home.

Your eyes were drawn to the walnut bar in the corner where the lone figure stood. The Captain no longer sported his helmet or combat suit but wore a pale blue cable knit sweater. He smirked at you as he swirled the dark liquor in a round-bellied bottle and sniffed the neck.

“About time,” he said to the man behind you.

The masked man poked you and grabbed your elbow. He brought you to the bar and pulled a stool close to you. You couldn’t climb up on your own and so he lifted you and plunked you down. He perched on another as the Captain ordered him to.

“You look confused,” the Captain said coolly, “why wouldn’t you be? I can only assume the breadth of explanation offered by my companion.” He winked at the other man who only glared back above his black mask, “he doesn’t say much but you can call him Bucky, he might answer to it.”

He took a slender shot glass and filled it with the nearly black liquid. He turned it slowly and tilted his head as he eyed it. He put the bottle down and leaned an arm on the bar as he watched you.

“Soldat, maybe,” he offered, “he’s a good soldier. And you already know who I am, but sir will suffice.”

You frowned and glanced between him and the other man; Bucky, soldat, whatever he was. Steve chuckled and lifted the shot. He held it up until you looked at it and just as quickly, knocked it back and hissed as he slammed the glass back down.

“You see, me and him, we have different variants of the serum. Similar enough, one of the things we have in common being our tolerance for alcohol. But this…” he flicked the top of the bottle, “a couple shots and the edge starts to blur. If someone like you were to take just a sip, well, you’d be on your ass.”

You shook your head, not quite catching his point. He inhaled and poured another shot. He put it in front of the soldat.

“Loosen up, will ya?” he chided.

The dark-haired man squinted and stared at the glass. He reached up with one hand and took off the mask. He revealed a square jaw and chiseled cheekbones. He drained the shot in a single robotic motion but when he brought the glass back down, it shattered against the bar.

“He has issues with… restraint,” Steve said, “to him, a knock in the head is like a peck on the lips. He doesn’t feel it. If he can’t feel, how can he know what others can?”

“I don’t…” you sniffed.

“He could’ve killed you. He almost did by the looks of it, but he didn’t,” he continued, “there are flickers in him… little things left behind from who he once was, but I don’t think it was mercy.”

You chewed your lip and stayed silent. You took a breath and once more wracked your tender ribs. You folded your arms around you and grimaced.

“Yeah, hurts, doesn’t it?” he taunted, “unfortunately for us, you’ll need lots of rest if you don’t wanna puncture a lung.”

“What do you… mean?” you regretted asking the moment the question was out. It was a dumb question.

He raised his brows and the scar across his eye paled. He rubbed his forehead and chuckled. His blue eyes wandered for just a moment to the plain gray cotton along your shoulders and he shrugged.

“Look, you don’t wanna do this now,” he said, “so I suggest…” he reached under the bar and revealed a bottle of wine then a stemmed glass, “you get comfortable,” he turned and searched the slim drawer at the top, “and try not to think too much.”

He put an orange bottle of pills down beside the glass and filled the crystal. He pushed the wine towards you and uncapped the bottle. He placed two tablets beside the base and popped the lid back on. 

“It will help with the pain,” he assured you, “and it will make it easier to get settled in.”

“I… I don’t what these are,” you scoffed as you pointed at the pills.

“I wouldn’t poison you. I could end it a lot quicker than that,” he tisked, “so, accept my generosity or I’ll shove it down your throat.”

You blanched and stared at him. The other man, Bucky, stood and stopped you from reaching for the wine. Steve looked at him in amusement and watched him jab a finger towards his chest.

“I’m helping her,” Steve said flatly, “but if you have an easier way, by all means.”

Bucky lowered his chin and closed his eyes. He sat and turned to you. He took the pills and held them out to you. You scooped them up shakily and he swiped up the wine, hovering it just before you. You shoved the pills in your mouth and accepted the wine.

His eyes focused on your lips as you sipped and he glanced back at Steve. He put his hand flat in the air, a blunt gesture. The blond laughed and raised his palms defensively.

“He wants me to leave you alone now,” he snickered, “go on then, Buck, find her a bed.”

The soldier stood and waited for you to do the same. You left the wine half-finished and he ushered you back to the door. As he reached it, Steve’s voice rose again.

“Shouldn’t worry so much about me hurting her, soldat,” he called mockingly, “you do that well enough.”

He prodded you through the door and growled under his breath. He directed you down to the corner and pressed his thumb to the keypad. The door slid up suddenly and you flinched. He blocked the doorway behind you as you entered and looked around at the bedroom. Everything you needed awaited you within those walls and if you weren’t in the middle of a mountain, it would seem an entirely ordinary place.

You turned back but all you saw was the metal descend and close you in. You stared at it for a moment then went to the bed. You sat and rubbed your temples. You could feel the pills dredging up your mind and the wine curdling in your stomach. Sleep was tempting as it was your only choice.

★

When you woke next, you felt an odd presence. The room was dark but it was that feeling you got as a child when you left the closet door open and conjured monstrous creatures watching from within. 

You groaned as you propped yourself up on one elbow and reached to the switch above the headboard that turned on the lamps on the side table. The room lit up and you crooked as you found a visitor in your corner. 

It was the soldat, his mask back in place as he stood and watched you. You blinked and looked at the door. It was firmly shut. You kept the blanket over you like a shield as you sat up and tried not to show your fear.

“Hi,” you said softly, “are you… okay?”

His blue eyes searched you but gave nothing away. The mask and the curtain of his hair shrouded his emotion. You just stared back in silence as his lashes flicked subtly, his irises moving up and down the bed. He took a step closer and you winced, squeezing the edge of the blankets.

He neared and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. He grabbed the top of the blanket and tugged until you let them go. You quivered as he pushed your shoulders down and you were forced flat with your head on the pillows. You gulped and the movement of your throat caught his gaze.

His metal fingers tickled along your neck and sent a chill down your spine. His hand continued down the front of your shirt and he pushed the hem up as the blanket bunched beneath your stomach. You latched onto it in a panic and he tore your hands away. He pressed them to the bed beside you until you went limp.

He raised your shirt higher and framed your ribs with his hands, feeling carefully along your bruised torso. When you exclaimed he retracted his hands and pulled your shirt back down roughly. He shook his head and his brows slanted.

His metal fingertips tapped on his thigh as he thought. You laid frozen on the mattress as his forehead wrinkled and he angled his head as if arguing with himself. His hand shifted suddenly and closed around yours. You let him lift it, terrified to anger him.

He reached to unhook his mask and set it in his lap. He brought your hand to his cheek and leaned his face into your palm as he bent over you. You felt the short stubble stabbing your palm. He took your hand away and swung it back towards him sharply so that you smacked him stiffly. 

You stared at him in confusion and he did it again. Then he let your hand go and pointed at his cheek and nodded. You dropped your hand and did nothing. His blue eyes turned to daggers and his jaw squared. He balled his hand and punched his leg in frustration.

He huffed and picked up his mask. He stood and put it back on. He waved his fingers at you dismissively and stomped to the door. He pressed his thumb to the small indent and it slid open before him. When the door shut, you left the lights on. 

Even with the drugs still coursing through you, sleep didn’t seem likely.