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aayakashii · 6 months ago

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The plushie headcanons are so cute! Mind if I send in a request for part 3 with Subaru, Alan, Sho, and Kaito? (I know damn well Kaito's gonna burst into tears at such a cute gift)

Thank you so much for enjoying them!! ｡ﾟ(*´□`)ﾟ｡ ♡ Hope you guys like this one!!

How Tokyo Debunker boys react after receiving a cute little plushie from MC – Subaru, Alan, Sho and Kaito

Kagami Subaru – red crowned crane plushie

He apologizes for the fact that you went out of your way to make such a delicate and cute plushie for him

Then he apologizes because he doesn't have a gift to give you yet

Then he apologizes again because you told him he doesn't need to apologize

Please be a little patient with him! He's a bundle of nerves, and it makes it hard for him to express himself properly

He absolutely loved the little crane though!!!!

He is wondering how are you so creative, how did you make such a majestic animal become so cute and round as a plushie

Subaru manages to makeshift a little cushion for the plushie, and now it has its own spot at the tea table

Being such an anxiety-ridden guy, your gift to him also became a huge source of relief – he doesn't bring it with him anywhere, but it's like all his problems magically fade away once he sees it, it quickly became a source of comfort and emotional support

He doesn't really tell that to you or anyone, for that purpose, because he feels a little silly, but he absolutely cherishes his new friend and hopes to give you a gift that might mean as much to you as his little crane means to him!

Alan Mido – doberman plushie

Contrary to what people might think of him, Alan is a gentle giant

He's all soft eyes and little smiles to his underclassmen and Vagastrom students

Even if he's strict with them sometimes, it's all just his own form of tough love

So when you give him a doberman plushie, he can't help but smile and pat your head affectionately

The thought of you working so hard to make such a cute little thing for someone like him makes his chest all warm and fuzzy

He treats the plushie like a delicate trophy that could crumble into dust at any given moment

So he doesn't snuggle, nor squeeze it at all

He mostly just... Holds it. And stares at it, admiring your handiwork and thinking that it looks adorable.

And he also asks your opinion about everything plushie-related

"Do you think I should keep him in my room or at The Pit?"

"Why would you put him in The Pit?!"

"Maybe he could become a mascot..."

One day, he can't keep his curiosity at bay any longer and decides to finally ask you

"Why did you give me a doberman plushie? Specifically a doberman, I mean."

"Well, you are strong but also very gentle, just like a doberman can be protective and dangerous, but also sweet when it comes to its family"

Alan smiles and pats your head for the millionth time that day

He surely hopes he can keep being that to you.

Haizono Sho – raccoon plushie:

"I made this for you, an animal that reminds me of my cute kouhai"

"... senpai are you telling me I look like someone that eats trash"

"How the hell did you jump to this conclusion"

Don't worry about his reaction though, Sho absolutely loves it but he can't let any of his cuteness aggression show, to keep his bad boy image intact

Leo teases him over this gift, but every acid word just goes through one ear and out the other because Sho is over the moon, feeling like the most spoiled guy in the entire world

You see him through his rough image and have enough courage to give him such an adorable gift, you're truly something...

Oh, and the fact that you gave the raccoon a little apron to match his when he's working totally caused extreme mental damage over how cute it is

What if he also bought a leather jacket and a helmet to take him on his rides with Bonnie...

But will it be safe for it to ride Bonnie when it is so small and rotund and easy to slip away...

Please don't judge him, he's just a kid, he wasn't ready for parenthood

But since it has an apron, Sho will most definitely let it keep him company at the food truck

Maybe the little raccoon can be the cashier?

Sho will probably settle for this though

Fuji Kaito – penguin plushie:

Immediately screaming and gross sobbing

Cannot form a single coherent word once you give him his little chubby penguin

It looks so cute! It's so round and fluffy even though now it's a bit damp because of all his tears

A HUNDRED PERCENT takes this plushie everywhere

Kaito gives it a name, clothes, and accessories and creates an instagram account just to post photos of the penguin around the nicest spots jn Darkwick

Suddenly, Kaito becomes a photography pro since he just won't stop taking pictures of the little guy

Shows off to anyone that even points it out, ESPECIALLY if it's Luca

"MC made this FOR ME, which CLEARLY means I am their knight in shining armor and will protect both them and our child I mean our plushie with MY LIFE"

Totally misses the fact that Luca doesn't care

MC has to come to him and ask him pretty please to tone it down a bit because he is scaring the hoes everyone away

But how!!! He just loves (you) the plushie so much!! Let him show off, please? He's just a very excitable person!

He promises he'll chill out though, but before that, just one more photo for the plushie's instagram page...

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker subaru kagami #subaru kagami #tokyo debunker alan mido #alan mido #tokyo debunker sho haizono #sho haizono #tokyo debunker kaito fuji #kaito fuji #ask

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too-much-tma-stuff · 6 months ago

Text

You Stay Away From Her (part 11)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

It was decided that the Justice League’s official channel would work on the governmental side of the GIW, laws, and PR, leaving it to the less official channels like the younger group, and Hood and Hyena to raid the bases. It wouldn’t be the best look but they couldn’t leave them any longer knowing there might be other sentient beings suffering in there. As long as the JL’s core members tacitly condemned their actions and the teams involved were sneaky it shouldn’t hinder the repeal efforts too much. Besides, constantly having to repair damaged infrastructure and replace dead staff would make keeping the GIW running very expensive.

Danny felt much better by the end of the talk. The JL was taking this much more seriously then he had feared, and they hadn’t once brought up that he might technically be a villain since his panic attack. He felt better but he was still exhausted, and he leaned against Jason’s shoulder, taking strength from his partner as the meeting wound down. Things seemed settled and he was looking forward to going home, hopefully getting some junk food and candy, and maybe some alcohol because he needed a Drink.

“Alright, with that settled there is one more thing I’d like to discuss before we adjourn the meeting,” Batman said, leaning his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers.

Danny bit back a groan. What more could Bruce possibly want to talk about? Danny wanted to go hooome.

“I am under the impression that Phantasm is in need of a guardian-”

“No I’m not!” Phantasm interrupted Batman, glaring at him fiercely.

“She’s not, not really,” Hyena chuckled, shaking his head and resting a hand on her shoulder. “She’s been on her own since just a few months after her creation.”

“And it’s not like Vlad was a good guardian before that,” Ellie added. Danny nodded.

“But needing one or not, having one might be good for you.” Danny told her, squeezing her shoulder gently. “After everything you’ve been through, having a good guardian to help take care of you while you work through it?” She hesitated, but then she nodded, Danny was grateful for her trust.

“I would be willing too-” Batman started before Hyena interrupted him.

“No! Not you, and not Superman!” Hyena insisted, pointing an accusing finger at their end of the table.

“It’s not up to you-” Superman started this time, sounding offended.

“He’s my template! My only family, I trust him and I’m not going with anyone he doesn’t like,” Ellie growled at the two of them.

Reminded of how much he loved her, Danny gave her a one armed hug. He'd forgotten how ride or die she could be. “If they’d be willing, Martian Manhunter or Wonder Woman would be best. You both have powers, and experiences in common with her. But I don’t trust you with a clone,” He said, glaring at Superman. “I speak Kryptonian, I know what Kon-El means. You’re a piece of shit!” At least he had the decency to look chagrined. “And you!” Hyena pointed at Batman. “I know how you fuck up your kids. I’m dating one of your fucked up kids! You stay the hell away from her.”

Danny saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Nightwing had rested a hand on Jason’s arm and Robin and Superboy were behind them now, Tim supporting Jason and Danny, Kon supporting him and Ellie. It took Danny a moment to realize how heavy the silence had suddenly become and process what he had just said. He looked at Jason with regret and horror, seeing Jason shake his head subtly and grab Danny’s hand. At least he wasn’t mad.

“What do you mean you're dating one of Batman’s sons?” Wonder Woman asked, soft and dangerous.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Jason was either genuinely startled or doing a good job faking it. Then he scoffed and shook his head. “What am I talking about, of course he didn’t. If he didn’t tell Nightwing I was back he wasn’t going to tell any of you.

“Yes, I was the second Robin. About six months after Joker killed me some sort of reality altering event resurrected me and I woke up in my coffin. I dug myself out, calling for my father,” Jason said, glaring across the table at Batman from behind his mask. “But because he buried me on the other side of Gotham instead of with our family I never made it home. The league of Assassins found me first.

“It took me years to make it back, but because bty then I was already a killer, and my own person instead of an obedient soldier, he wants nothing to do with me,” Red Hood scoffed with a dismissive motion.

“Don’t misconstrue the facts. You returned as a crime lord! You took over the drug trade in Gotham and had a body count in the dozens before you revealed to me who you were. Which you did by demanding I let you kill the Joker,” Batman said, and yikes this meeting was now a family fight.

“Ya? And how did you respond to that B? Did you respond well OR! Did you slit your own sons throat to save a fucked up clown?” Nightwing demanded of their father. B just barely fidgeted under their stare.

“Besides I’m making Crime Alley a better place in a way you never even tried to. Even if you love Gotham more than any of us you’d basically given up on Crime Alley because of how deep the roots of organized crime go there, and don't you try to claim otherwise! But I’m an Ally kid, was before you pulled me out of there, will be till I die. So I’m making it safer in the way that works for them! Setting up safe injection sites and rehabs, making it against the rules to sell to, or use kids, setting up safe houses for the working girls. I’m making it a safer place for the people who have always lived there. Not trying to make it the sort of place people will set up fancy coffee shops.”

“It’s against the law. You are not above the law,” Batman hissed at him.

Jason clearly telegraphed rolling his eyes at B. “Then stop being a vigilante, because what you’re doing is against the law too.”

“We’ve gotten off topic again,” Martian Manhunter butted in again, giving Batman a warning look. “I will take on the role of mentoring Phantasm. It’s been a while since I took a young hero under my wing. It will be refreshing to do it again.”

“Thank you,” Hyena said genuinely, smiling at Martian Manhunter from behind his mask.

“Ya I bet you like that,” Ellie said, lightening the mood with her teasing tone. “MM has been your favourite hero since you were a kid, and now you have an excuse to talk to him more.”

Hyena blushed and hissed at her only for her to laugh in his face. If they weren’t in public he would have tackled her and started play-fighting. As it was he resigned himself to letting her get away with embarrassing him for now.

Manhunter chuckled gently and give Danny a very small smile. “I’m flattered to have been your favourite hero. It is a rarer honour for me then some of the others.”

“Ya…” Danny breathed, a little starstruck before he shook himself out of it and stood up. “Well, if that’s all I think Hood and I are ready to go home,” He said, giving Jason a slightly pleading look. He nodded and stood up as well, wrapping an arm around Danny’s waist.

“That was a good meeting. Remember, if you need help with anything from the Realms, call us. Or any apocalyptic threats I guess, call us,” He reminded before ushering Danny out. The Teen Titans and the present members of the Bat-family sort of formed ranks around Jason, Danny, and Ellie and escorted them out of the room.

The adults were quiet as they left, but as soon as the door closed behind them Danny heard a cacophony of voices, and had to duck his head to hide a grin. It seemed like what Jason had said had managed to start a fight, good, B deserved it!

Danny snuggled against Jason’s side as Tim put in coordinates and verification in the Zeta-tube to get Jason and Danny back to the Bat Cave. Before they left Danny turned and hugged Ellie tightly again. “Go back with the Teen Titans okay? And come visit me.”

“You have to come visit me too!” Ellie insisted, his voice muffled as she pressed her face into Danny’s chest.

Danny glanced a little nervously at the assembled members of Teen Titans, “Starlight I’m not sure that they’d want me to-”

“No, it’s alright. Unless anyone objects?” Tim asked, glancing over at his team, Cassie shrugged, Bart gave him a thumbs up and a grin, and Kon nodded. “You invited me into your home, you’re welcome in mine. Especially since it’ll be hers now too. Come whenever you want,” Tim promised. “Just give us a heads up first.”

“Thank you. In that case, yes I will visit you. I promise,” He swore to her. She sniffled and nodded, pulling away from him and wiping her eyes.

“Good, I’ll hold you to it.” She grumbled at him.

Danny bit back a laugh and nodded before finally letting Nightwing and Hood guide him into the portal. It was less scary the second time at least, even though Danny was completely exhausted.

“I’m going to take him home,” Jason told Dick as Danny leaned more heavily against him. Now that they were alone he was done holding it together.

“Of course. Is there anything I can do?” Dick asked worriedly. Danny closed his eyes tightly and resisted the urge to cover his ears too.

“No. You can order takeout to our place if you want to, but right now he just needs space. We both do,” Jason told Dick before gently pushing Danny over to his bike and on. Danny clung to Jason, hiding against his back as he drove them home, weaving in and out of traffic and pulled up to the curb, practically carrying Danny back inside.

“I’m so sorry,” Danny muttered, his arms wrapped tightly around Jason’s shoulders, his face pressed against Jason’s chest. “I shouldn’t have brought up B adopting you, I shouldn’t have surprised you with the powerpoint, I’m sorry I had a panic attack there. I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

“Shhh, shh shh, it’s okay Danny, it’s okay Love. It was actually kind of fun getting to throw B under the bus like that. It’s not your fault for having a panic attack either. But yes, you should have warned me about the power-point. What do you want to do about it?” Jason asked softly, not because he was actually upset, but because the quickest way to snap Danny out of a self hating spiral like this was to ‘punish him for it’, and then talk about it after.

“Whatever you want, whatever will make it right,” Danny mumbled again, he sounded distracted and vague. Jason knew that tone of voice, Danny was having another panic attack, just a dissociative one this time.

“Danny, none of that! You have to tell me,” Jason told him firmly.

“Take me to bed, be rough with me,” Danny mumbled.

“Only if you use the safe word,” Jason told Danny, even though he was already carrying Danny towards the bedroom.

“I will if I need to,” Danny promised, and Jason sighed. He knew that meant Danny wouldn’t use it, but all he could do was insist Danny could and should. Trying to force Danny to would be counterproductive.

---------

The meeting had taken hours for Batman to get back under control as the rest of the Justice league went back and forth between berating him for the way he’d treated Jason and offering him parenting advice. He didn’t want any of it! They hadn’t read Jason’s file, they didn’t know just how high of a body count he had now, just how brutal he could be now. He didn’t want any of their advice, or any of their ridicule, it was ridiculous!

Constantine had tried to sneak out but Batman pinned him to his seat with a look, muttering to him that he needed to stay, Bruce wanted to talk to him alone after the meeting. Finally he managed to regain control enough to end the meeting, ‘at least till tempers had cooled and they could revisit this problem.’ He was planning to avoid that follow up meeting as long as humanly possible.

He convinced everyone else to leave and grabbed Constantine by the scruff when he tried to leave again too. Bruce had seen the look of realization on Constantine’s face while he was watching Danny before he could wipe it away. He had controlled it quickly, but not so quickly that Batman hadn’t noticed it.

“You know what he is now don’t you?” Batman growled at Constantine once they were alone.

“What’re you talkin about?” Constantine deflected.

Batman was not impressed.

“Hyena. What is he?” Batman demanded, glaring at the magician.

Constantine hesitated, glancing around them and biting his lip, as if he was afraid Hyena might pop out from the shadows again. “I think so, but it’s weird and… Well, he’s right that if he had told me I wouldn’t have believed him.”

“Fine. Tell me,” Batman demanded again, he was getting impatient.

“I think he’s a-” And then he made a series of sounds that made no sense to Batman. “It’s a bit clumsy to translate into English. Halfa, or ‘the perfect balance’, something like that. They’re… well they’re a fucking myth is what they are! The legend is that they were an immortal race of beings who were completely alive, and completely dead. Perfectly balanced between the two, incredibly powerful and almost indestructible. There were only ever a couple hundred because they had to be made not born and the way they’re made is very rare. But they were the keepers of the balance, ambassadors between worlds.

“Everyone respected them. But that was before the king went mad, and there was this prophecy was discovered, that the True King of the Infinite Realms would be a halfa or somethin. He killed the entire race, complete genocide and no one’s heard anything from a halfa in… I genuinely don’t know, thousands of years probably,” Constantine shrugged again. “I’d heard about them. Ancient beings sometimes lament their loss, that things were better when they were around to keep the balance, but I thought it was just Boomer talk! Back in my day Bullshit! I didn’t think they were TRUE!” Constantine sounded almost hysterical.

“If they’re keepers of the balance what’s one doing in Crime Alley serving Red Hood?” Batman said skeptically.

“Fuck if I know mate!” Constantine said. “He said he was fully human not that long ago so I’m guessing he’s a new halfa. Which… I guess it makes sense, just because all the previous were gone, the way they’re made can technically be naturally occurring. But he probably won’t have any idea about that cultural heritage, there’s no one left to teach him.

“With what the GIW did, and he mentioned his haunt being taken, and no one to fall back on, he was a lost spirit. He probably would have latched on to anyone who gave him kindness and purpose,” Constantine explained to Batman with exaggerated patience. “It seems to have worked out pretty well for them, if not for you.

“And Bats, I know you’re not thrilled about this, but think about it. What if Hyena had latched on to someone else? Even a normal person given access to the sort of power Hyena offers, what would most people do with it? Or what if he had latched onto someone like Penguin, anyone without a good heart deep down. It could have gone a hell of a lot worse! And as it is, as long as you don’t piss them off too badly we have a powerful new alley and a counter to a type of threat the League wasn’t well set up to deal with.

“Maybe try untwisting those panties of yours about him dating your son,” Constantine accused, rolling his eyes. This time when he stormed out Batman didn’t stop him. He wasn’t sure how helpful the information Constantine had given him was, but he knew he’d gotten everything he was going to get out of the magician.

He had his own research to do.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #jason todd #dead on main #fanfiction #Hyena!Danny AU #dani phantom #kon el kent #tim drake #nightwing #john constantine #batman #superman #wonder woman #Superman has issues with clones

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j0kers-light · 5 months ago

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what if y/n was an airhead... not necessarily super dumb but a little slow or ditzy... and a little dumb. but also very positive and carefree. basically a golden retriever type of person 😂 i just wonder what j would think about that 😂

Hey hi anon!! 🖤✨

Oh this is gonna be fun. 🥰 I love doing reaction head canons! Let’s GO!!!!! Don’t ask why I’m still up at 2am. I hope you enjoy anon!

The first time that Joker met you, he wanted to slash your throat so bad. How are you so positive and carefree? There's no way you're like this 24/7.

You are. Gods you really are. Joker questions your mental state because you are too kind to others and your naivety is so pure, you are considered a national treasure. He wants to taint you. Point. Blank. Simple.

How are you so joyful? Do you do drugs? You're always smiling, offering up words of encouragement, and soooooooo many hugs to strangers. You are wayy too bubbly for J's tastes.

Too often you remind Joker of his ex Harley and he refuses to do that all over again. He considers breaking up with you because you're just so... ditzy.

Your attention span is that of a goldfish, and you literally stop to smell the roses while out and about. You even play peek-a-boo with children you see on the street. End his misery please. 😭

But despite the constant headaches you give Joker, he can’t seem to stay away. He’s addicted.

Frost and the boys stare at Joker in horror when you visit the hideout (unannounced) with a basket full of baked goods; blissfully unaware that a goon almost shot you for trespassing.

This is the girl their boss is dating?!!?!? HOW? It’s giving peak grumpy x sunshine energy because you and Joker do not compute.

BUT. IT WORKS. The laws of the universe bend to make it happen and Joker cannot thank them enough for placing you in his life. He wouldn’t be the same without you.

You know you can be an airhead at times but Joker reins in your overly bubbly persona. He's always looking out for you and not allowing anyone to make you into a pushover.

In return, you encourage and offer Joker the love and support he secretly needs while quelling his more violent tendencies.

You calm his anger. He keeps you focused. 🔥✨

You're still his Light although it stands for Sunlight in this scenario and you get a sun tattoo behind your ear in honor of it.

Joker is grateful that you are nothing like Harley. Yes you can be annoying at times but you mean well in the long run.

Its not just obsessive loyalty and toxic love; you genuinely care about Joker and you push him to become a better man every day.

And the feeling is mutual. Joker does not tolerate anyone making fun of his sunlight. He kills anyone who insults your intelligence and anyone that makes you cry, mysteriously disappears.

Joker is the only one who can call you silly or dumb because it’s not an insult when J says it. 🥹

You giggle anytime he calls you silly girl or his dumb little slut. AND l OOP! SORRY ! I forgot this was sfw!! 👀👀 MOVING ON 👩🏽‍💻

Speaking of you barging into the hideout with baked goodies. That actually happened.

Everyone was shocked when you knocked on the door with a loud, "HELLLLLOOOOOOOO! J are you in there? I brought snackies!"

No one knows how you navigated this deep into Joker’s territory without being murdered. No one knows how you bypassed the building’s security.

You just waltz in like you own the place, bringing an aura of joy and happiness in your wake.

Joker was in an important meeting, discussing how to eliminate a rival popup gang when he heard your heels clicking down the hall. He knows that sound from anywhere and his face turns white.

A goon is right behind you threatening you to leave or else, when you just causally walk into the meeting room, blissfully unaware of the danger you are now in.

Do you even notice all the guns trained on you? Nope, you only have eyes for Joker. You stop yourself from tackling him with a hug.

"There you are J! Oh. Are you busy? Well not anymore!! I baked muffins, and cookies, and oh!” You finally acknowledge the room full of men.

You blink twice before smiling wide. “Hi everyone!! Does anyone have a peanut allergy? I made treats with and without nuts just in case!”

An entire room full of dangerous criminals stare in disbelief as you unload your wicker basket right onto the table, all while humming a song.

They all turn to stare at Joker who is ready to crawl into a hole from embarrassment. He doesn't even know where to begin there's so much to unpack here.

How did you get here all by yourself? Who let you in?! Why did you bake so much?! Is that a pain au chocolat?

Surely you sense the threat around you but no. You are so oblivious, it’s almost sad to watch.

Some brave soul does announce their allergy and you quickly deliver them a nut free brownie on a pink napkin.

Your naïve personality triggers an understanding in the room and people start to lower their weapons in exchange for treats.

By the end of your impromtu visit, Joker's gang is obsessed with you and your baking. And so the questions start pouring in.

"Y/n you’re so nice! How is someone like you with the boss?"

You look up from handing a goon a cookie, "You mean J? Oh!" You look away bashful as they all wait for a response. Even Joker is intrigued with what you’ll say.

“I’m not the smartest girl in Gotham but Joker doesn’t care! He’s the most patient person I’ve ever met and he never belittles me! How could I not love him? He’s so protective too! He always murders the mean people who make fun of me. Isn’t he so romantic?”

The room goes silent after that last bit. And so it all starts to make sense.

“Great. She’s crazy too." One guy whispers.

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outlaw-apologist · 2 months ago

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Okay I would like to request Scott, Logan, Hank, and Remy x reader headcanons where there crush is in a toxic relationship( not abusive) with their partner. So the reader kind of doesn't realize what is happening to them is bad and is a bit of a pushover. They don't feel good in the relationship they are in and do like the characters above romatically, but don't know how to get out of the relationship

X-Men Headcanons If you're in a toxic relationship...

Characters: Scott, Logan, Hank, and Remy A/N: Yes! Yes! Yes! I loved doing this one. Everyone who's been in or is in a toxic relationship deserves a little 'feel good' moment with their X-Men ♡

Logan: Logan’s protectiveness has always been there, but it’s different now. Any time he sees you with that partner of yours, there’s an unmistakable scowl on his face, and his eyes track every single move. Without a word, he makes it his mission to be wherever you are, ensuring your toxic partner has a hard time even getting near you. Logan’s always a few steps away, his gaze hard and unyielding, and he’s constantly volunteering to escort you around the mansion or into town. He brushes it off as coincidence, but you know better—Logan wants you to feel safe, to feel free. And Logan has no filter when it comes to calling out your partner, either. He’s quick to throw in a dry “Oh, that asshole?” whenever anyone brings them up, even if your partner’s right there to hear it. He doesn’t care. In fact, the more they overhear, the better. You’ll catch him muttering insults under his breath or letting out an irritated scoff every time he hears your partner’s voice, making it clear he has zero respect for someone who would treat you like that. If he catches your partner trying to smooth things over, Logan steps between you with a wolfish smirk that sends chills down their spine, and suddenly your partner has somewhere else to be. The worst days are when you show up on his door with tear-streaked cheeks and a hurt so raw that it feels like his own. Logan never says much; he just wraps his arms around you, holding you close and steady. He pulls you into his chest, rough hands threading gently through your hair, and he whispers low reassurances: “You don’t need to carry that pain, darlin’. You’re worth more than that.” His voice is gravelly but soft, and for as long as you need, he stays right there, unflinching.

Of course, Logan’s restraint only goes so far. After a night of seeing you in tears, Logan hunts down your partner without a second thought. He leans in close, a dangerous look in his eye, and gives them an ultimatum that’s impossible to ignore. “Here’s how this goes,” he says with a sneer, “you leave them alone and never look back, or I’ll make sure you’re in no shape to hurt anyone again.” There’s a flash of claws and a look so fierce that there’s no mistaking his seriousness—Logan’s not afraid to make them regret every mistake they’ve made. And once you finally end things, Logan doesn’t bring it up again. Instead, he’s there to remind you of your own strength, to build you up day by day. Logan knows how hard it can be to shake off that kind of hurt and he wants you to heal on your own time. He’ll sweep you off your feet later, your mental health comes first.

Scott:

Scott’s approach is thoughtful and measured, but the intensity is unmistakable. He’s by your side, offering support in a way that’s both compassionate and practical. When he first realizes just how toxic your relationship has become, he takes a deep breath, sitting down with you, his gaze sincere and unflinching. “Look, I’m not here to tell you what to do,” he says, voice low, almost hesitant. “But… do you really want someone who treats you like that? Someone who sees you this way?” Scott speaks with a quiet urgency, his words cutting through the haze of doubt as he asks you to really see yourself—someone worth so much more.

As he gets closer to you, Scott feels an unfamiliar surge of jealousy that gnaws at him every time your partner’s name is mentioned. It’s a feeling that shocks him, brings him back to memories of Jean and Logan, though those wounds had a different ache. Is this how Logan felt? he wonders. Scott didn’t think he was capable of loathing anyone like this, but the way your partner treats you fills him with a deep, unshakable resentment. For the first time, Scott realizes the lengths he would go to for someone he truly cares about, and it rattles him. It makes him question who he’s becoming.

Despite his growing frustration, Scott’s dedication to you is stronger. He makes it his mission to create a sanctuary where you can escape, somewhere you don’t have to look over your shoulder or walk on eggshells. He welcomes you into his office, the library, or his favorite corner of the garden—any place he can make feel like home. Scott has a gentle way of grounding you, reminding you that here, you’re safe. And he’s serious about it. The day you finally decide to leave your partner, he’s the first to offer protection, pledging to be there as a friend, a teammate, whatever you need to feel truly free.

When your ex tries to worm their way back into your life, Scott’s patience finally snaps. He squares his shoulders, crosses his arms, and stands his ground, eyes blazing beneath his shades. His voice is low but cold, carrying a calm menace. “Buddy, it’s not smart to mess with someone tied to the X-Men. Walk away. Now.” It’s a tone that brokers no argument, no room for second-guessing, and it sends your ex retreating. Scott can’t help the grim satisfaction he feels, knowing he’s drawn a line, protected you in a way he’s been wanting to since the beginning.

Later, Scott doesn’t talk about the confrontation unless you bring it up. Instead, he’s there to help you rebuild, one step at a time, encouraging you to reclaim what that relationship took from you. He’ll support you as much as you need and then some, willing to be the steady presence that reminds you you’re safe, supported, and deserving of so much more.

Remy: Remy doesn’t bother with subtlety, not when it comes to showing you how much better you deserve. He’s by your side in an instant, slipping an arm around your waist, leaning in with that signature grin as he murmurs, “Mon cherie, your partner is a simpleton who does not understand your beauty.” His voice drips with charm, his gaze soft and admiring as he gently lifts your chin. Remy’s got a way of hyping you up like no one else can, making you feel seen, adored, reminding you that someone recognizes your worth. While Logan or Scott might hold back for your comfort, Remy’s got zero reservations. He doesn’t give a fuck, openly flirting with you in front of your partner, his attention intense and unbroken. He’s quick to slip his hand to your waist or brush your hair back from your face, his touch lingering in a way that leaves little to the imagination. He thrives on how visibly it bothers your partner, every small gesture a reminder that you’ve got someone in your corner who sees right through them. His kiss to your hand is bold, his grin unyielding, daring your partner to make a move. And when the two of you are alone, Remy doesn’t mince words. “I can treat you better, mon amour,” he vows, his voice rich with sincerity as he leans in close. “And I will.” His intensity is captivating, and he makes no attempt to hide his frustration with the way your partner treats you. Remy wants you to see your worth through his eyes—someone so deserving of love, joy, and respect. He’s got a way of saying it that feels less like a promise and more like a certainty. Like Logan, Remy openly mocks your partner whenever they cross paths, though his style is entirely his own. With that lazy drawl, he’s quick to point out their shortcomings, sarcasm dripping from every word. “So,” he might say with a smirk, “you actually think you’re worth their time?” His dismissive laugh fills the air, and he’s made it clear to everyone—including you—just how little regard he has for them. One day, your partner gets a more pointed comment as Remy passes by, casual and nonchalant. “It’d be a real shame if you, oh… spontaneously combust one day.” His tone is so bored, his expression so completely uninterested, that it leaves your partner stunned. The implication lingers in the air, and Remy walks away with that carefree confidence that says he meant every word.

Hank: Hank’s kindness has always made him a bit of a people pleaser, but when he sees the hurt in your eyes—the quiet sorrow you try to hide from everyone else—he knows he can’t keep watching silently. One evening, he pulls you aside, voice soft as he murmurs your name, concern clouding his usually calm expression. His gaze holds yours for a beat, as if he’s searching for the right words. “I see how they hurt you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, the sadness clear in his tone. “You don’t deserve this. It breaks my heart to watch this, and I just… I cannot do it anymore.” The vulnerability in his confession stirs something in you; Hank’s genuine care makes it impossible to brush off the truth you’ve been trying to avoid. From then on, Hank keeps a close eye on you, though he tries to be subtle. Any time he sees your partner’s behavior shift, he’s quick to call you over, using “research” as an excuse. “I could really use your assistance with a new project,” he’ll say, his tone polite but firm as he gently guides you away, a hand on your shoulder. He doesn’t want to be too obvious or overstep, but seeing the way they treat you has his nerves tied up in knots. Hank knows he can’t ignore it any longer, even though he wishes he didn’t have to get in the middle of things. But he can’t bear to leave you alone with someone so undeserving of your kindness. In typical Hank fashion, he takes a meticulous, logical approach to helping you understand just how unhealthy this relationship is. He spends hours combing through academic journals and reputable psychology articles, compiling statistics on toxic relationships and gathering data on ways to exit them safely. When he finally works up the courage to hand you the printed pages, he’s endearingly shy, almost reluctant. “I… I hope you don’t mind,” he says, gently passing you the neatly stapled research. “I thought this information might be… useful. Just something to consider.” His cheeks are tinged with a soft blush, but the determination in his eyes speaks volumes—Hank is truly committed to helping you find your way out, in whatever way he can. And sometimes, his frustration slips through in ways that surprise you both. One day, while you’re working with him in the lab, he glances at you with a faint smile before muttering, “From an evolutionary standpoint, your partner is… well, inferior.” His voice carries a hint of frustration he rarely lets show. “A partner is meant to attract and support their counterpart, to form connections and build something meaningful. By that logic, your partner should probably remain single.” His tone is factual, but there’s a protectiveness there.... A feeling of 'you deserve so much better than the treatment you’re enduring'. In the days that follow, Hank continues to support you in quiet but steady ways, slipping you gentle reminders of your worth. He brings you tea when he senses you’re stressed, offers his own quiet encouragement, and creates a safe, comforting environment where you feel genuinely valued. Hank may not be the type to challenge your partner directly, but he tries to show you he’s there for you.

#logan howlett x reader #scott summers #remy lebeau x reader #hank mccoy x reader #x men #x men 97 #logan howlett #wolverine #cyclops #gambit #beast #x men headcannons #my writing #requested #anon

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hotdaemondtargaryen · 6 months ago

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TOM GLYNN-CARNEY PHOTOGRAPHED BY MATTHEW LEIFHEIT FOR VULTURE MAGAZINE.

TALKING ABOUT HIS CHARACTER ARC IN S2.

Aegon is confident, politically savvy, and even affectionate with his children from sister-wife Helaena (Phia Saban).

“Showing that he has the potential to love was interesting to me. I wanted to investigate that.”

Glynn-Carney, who read the book after a season one conversation with Condal and Sapochnik about Aegon's overall arc, praises the development for its shock factor and the attention it gives to Saban, who says it is "sensational in all its forms."

There’s something about Aegon in his eyes when he admits: “I’d probably go a little more graphic about the gore. I could have done with, ‘Oh, I can’t look at that!’ The sadist in me needed it.”

TALKING ABOUT MUSIC.

The playlist he made for Aegon (he makes one for all his characters) helps get him in the right mercurial mind-set, he tells me at Rough Trade.

It includes some contemplative classical and punk rock like the Undertones, Stiff Little Fingers, and the Sex Pistols.

“Ironically,” he says with a smile. “fuck-the-patriarchy, fuck-the-monarchy stuff.”

In his own life, Glynn-Carney makes “lyrically driven, quite folky” music, citing Tame Impala, Bon Iver, and, of course, Garvey as influences.

He grabs a copy of Jeff Buckley’s Grace because he’s worn down his current edition from listening to it so much. He treats Chet Baker’s 1959 album Chet gently, like a holy object, when he tells me he’d love to play the cool jazz musician in a biopic one day.

“There she is,” he says, as if greeting an old friend, when he sees Patti Smith’s Radio Ethiopia.

“Anyone who says they don’t like music, you can’t trust them. Bodies under the floorboards, isn’t it?” he says.

OLIVIA COOKE TALKING ABOUT TOM GLYNN-CARNEY'S ACTING STYLE.

His acting style is instinctual, a function of his theater training that feels particularly well suited to Aegon’s own impulsiveness.

When filming their first scene on the show together, Glynn-Carney encouraged Cooke to actually slap him in the face:

“The first go, I did it really haphazardly. I only caught his chin with my fingertips, because I was too nervous. And he was like, ‘No, Olivia, just, like, really go for it. Just really go for it.’

“I went for it, and the ringing sound that came from the slap reverberated all through the Red Keep. Tears are springing to his eyes and his chin is wobbling.”

SPOILERS!! S2.

OLIVIA COOKE TALKING ABOUT A SCENE OF AEGON AND ALICENT IN S2.

In a scene they share in season two during which Aegon grieves the loss of a relative:

“He was throwing himself around the room in just the throes of despair. It sort of took me out of the scene a bit. I was like, Bloody hell, Tom’s doing well.”

ABOUT THE PERSONALITY OF KING AEGON II.

“massively bipolar.”

That emotional volatility, fueled by shame, guilt, and an obsessive need to prove himself, becomes a major driver of this season’s increasing bloodshed and brutality.

“Aegon wants to be loved and feared at the same time. But I think it’s a dangerous cycle.”

“We’re not going to get to the core of what’s going on. We’re just going to go round and round and round and round and round until everything burns and everyone’s dead."

ABOUT HIS SCENES WITH RHYS IFANS IN S2.

One of his favorite days on set this season reminded him of the live energy of performing onstage.

They were shooting episode two, when Aegon challenges his grandfather Otto’s decisions and remains steely and resolute in response to Otto’s insults:

“I’ve always wanted to do a play with Rhys, and that felt like the closest thing I’ll get to it for a while.”

“It was an empty set, a big room, like a stage. We were allowed complete free rein of the space.”

TALKING ABOUT HIS FAMILY.

He came from a creatively inclined family: His paternal grandparents were an opera singer and a choirmaster, and his mother sewed all the costumes for his sister’s ballroom and Latin dance competitions.

They were supportive of his acting dreams, he says, but urged a plan B — a suggestion he rejected:

“I remember being so precocious and being like, ‘If I have a plan B, I’m preemptively failing it.’ My mom probably thought, Little dickhead.”

“I always had my eyes on the prize, and sometimes you’ve just got to be like that, haven’t you?.”

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vikkirosko · 8 months ago

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Can I ask for headcanons for Angel Dust, Alastor, Niffty, Charlie, Husk, Vaggie and Cherry of what a friendship with them would be like? The reader is feminine if possible and she has a very protective personality with her friends, but she is very kind and loves to give hugs and handmade details for them.

Platonic headcanons Friendship

🌈 Charlie Morningstar x fem!Reader 🎶

Charlie has been sincere and friendly since childhood. She wanted to see the bright side in others and was sure that sinners deserved a chance at redemption. When she met you, she was glad that she had a new friend. You became friends pretty quickly and started spending a lot of time together

You were kind and caring towards others, and Charlie really liked that trait of yours. You often helped at the hotel, making her job easier. You knew how hard she worked, so you tried to do something to help your friend

You saw how Charlie worked and harassed herself, so you tried to help her and take care of her. When it was hard for her and she felt tired, you hugged her, gently stroked her back and said words of support. Charlie was grateful to you for that. She knew that you would always be there to help and support her

For the princess, you were a dear friend whom she was always glad to see. She tried to make sure that you had as many reasons to smile as possible. Charlie wanted her friends to be happy, including you

❌ Vaggie x fem!Reader 🎀

Vaggie had a hard time trusting sinners. She trusted Charlie, but she hardly trusted others. She didn't start trusting you right away either, despite your kind disposition. However, you were able to find an approach to her. She saw how kind you were not only to her, but also to others. You were sincere, honest and caring, and you really managed to win her over with your kindness

She watched you help Charlie at the hotel, how you supported your friends and gave them various small handmade gifts. You saw how often Vaggie was stressed, so you took care of her. You made her delicious tea, helped her with her chores and went shopping with her. She was grateful for your support, knowing that you were there for her

Vaggie knew that you were a kind and non-confrontational person, so she protected you from the dangers you might face in Hell. When they tried to attack you, she protected you even if it was necessary to fight. If she was injured, then you and Charlie treated her wounds and you always thanked her for standing up for you

She didn't talk about it often, but Vaggie was glad she had a friend like you. Charlie and you were the ones who helped her feel alive again. You saved her from the despair she felt when she was thrown into Hell and she was willing to go to great lengths for you

🕷 Angel Dust x fem!Reader 💖

Angel didn't have many people he could call his friends, much less kind people who genuinely cared about him and others. However, he had you. You were the friend who was there for him when he needed support. You didn't judge him for his life and tried to help him no matter what

You brought him water when he was hungover, you made him a snack and you were ready to listen to him when he was having a hard time. He knew that you wouldn't tell anyone his secrets and you wouldn't judge him. You always stayed by his side, no matter how lousy he was

Sometimes Angel would keep you company when you went grocery shopping for the hotel. If there was any unforeseen situation, he was there and ready to protect you. He knew that you were kind and that you didn't like to fight, so he became your protector, not allowing sinners to hurt you

Angel was glad that he had a friend like you. Sometimes you reminded him of his sister, whom he missed. Sometimes it hurt him, as if he saw her instead of you, but in his mind he understood that you were not his sister. You were his friend, who made him feel better at least a little bit

📻 Alastor x fem!Reader 🎙

Alastor called people his friends, but few of them he really considered as such. He could call Rosie his friend, but he could rather call most of the people with whom he communicated people from whom he benefited. However, he didn't know which category he could put you in. You were unusually kind and caring for a man who was in Hell, and you clearly considered him your friend

You were one of the kindest people he met in Hell. You genuinely cared about him, you made him delicious tea, you always asked him how his next walk around the city went or asked him about music. You were genuinely interested in his life, while trying not to violate his personal boundaries

Alastor looked out for you sometimes. He convinced himself that the reason for this was that you were part of the hotel, which meant he had to make sure that you would be safe. Alastor did not admit that the reason for this was that he was getting used to you and would not want to lose his new friend

Alastor was not someone who would directly call a person a friend. He showed it by his actions, looking out for you, even though it was not so easy to notice. He knew that you understood without words that he saw you as a friend

🧹 Niffty x fem!Reader ❤

You and Niffty met at the hotel, where you helped out by running small errands. You often began to work together and thanks to this you were able to quickly become friends. Niffty thought you were too kind, so she often spent time with you and made sure that others didn't take advantage of your kindness

You did the cleaning at the hotel together and you often took care of her. You brought lemonade and snacks when you worked too long, you chatted a lot and you listened to her. Niffty told you a lot, although some of the things she said made you feel a little uneasy

Niffty directly told you that you were too kind and you should have been more strict with others so that they would not take advantage of your kindness. At such moments, you would tell her with a soft smile that if everyone was harsh and cruel, there would be no hope left. Niffty snorted every time and said that then she would be harsh instead of you

Despite the fact that sometimes Niffty could scare, you were still friends. You cherished her and your friendship. You took care of each other and Niffty knew she could trust you. You were one of the closest people to her and she was glad that she had a friend like you

🃏 Husk x fem!Reader 🥃

Husk was not the friendliest person. He was rude, said what he thought and didn't seem like someone who had friends. You saw it perfectly well, but you still tried to communicate with him and called him your friend, to which Husk usually snorted irritably or rolled his eyes

You often sat at the bar with him. Husk didn't send you away. He watched you make small handmade gifts, including for him. You always tried to do something for others, you were caring and kind, even too kind for someone who lived in Hell

Husk denied that you were friends, but he looked out for you. He knew that Hell was full of those who wanted to take advantage of your kindness, so he didn't let those who wanted to trick you do it. You knew about it, but you didn't tell him so as not to embarrass him

You knew that Husk was kind deep down and responded to him with kindness. You cherished him and your friendship and tried to take care of him as much as he allowed you to. You didn't want to violate his boundaries. You took care of each other as much as you could

💣 Cherri Bomb x fem!Reader 🍒

Cherri often got into fights and adventures. But when she needed peace, she came to you. You were friends, even though you were very different. You were kind, caring, and you tried your best to help others. Including friend, in the person of Cherri

You often treated her wounds, helped her when she was hungover, and the doors of your house were always open for her. Cherri appreciated your friendship and helped you as much as she could. When she found out that someone was trying to harm you, she protected you. Cherri wasn't going to let anyone hurt her friend

When Cherri found out that Angel started living in a hotel, she suggested that you start living there too, because you would be safe in a hotel. At least it's safer than outside the hotel. Cherri wasn't going to force you, but if you had stayed at the hotel, she would have been less worried about whether you were okay

You and Cherri took care of each other, you trusted each other with secrets and knew that you had each other. Your friendship was strong despite all the difficulties that Hell arranged for you and you were sure that together you could cope with any difficulty

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel headcanons #Charlie Morningstar #Charlie Morningstar x Reader #Vaggie #Vaggie x Reader #Angel Dust #Angel Dust x Reader #Alastor #Alastor x Reader #Niffty #Niffty x Reader #Husk #Husk x Reader #Cherri Bomb #Cherri Bomb x Reader

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saltyskeletonkidpasta · 2 months ago

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In all seriousness I'm so sorry to anyone who will be negatively affected by a tr*mp administration. I truly cant believe that hate won there is no way that many people saw and heard what that man was saying and thought "yeah the country needs that"...like ur actually fucking stupid. I've been watching from the uk and it blows my mind how he was allowed to even run in the first place or atleast not disqualified for the things he's said over the last couple of months like isulting his opponent, or the threats to Liz Cheney or threatening leftists with the national guard??

America you have let your women down. As if they hadn't lost enough (also if you're one of those "wOmEn fOr tRuMp" literally fuck you ur an insult to the women who fought so hard for you to be able to vote in the first place and now you used it to vote against ur own best interest) and to all the minorities I'm so sorry aswell. You deserve better.

As for the rest of the world we will be impacted aswell. He's already threatened to pull out of NATO which will affect us all and I think it's safe to assume Palestine will truly suffer even more horrifically than they already are. I'd think that goes for ukraine aswell. As for his views on climate change.. well that will affect us all aswell. America are already one of the biggest producers of polution now that idiot who thinks it's a host will most likely cause catastrophic and irreparable damage. The animals and nature have been let down too. I'm truly suprised he won I knew it would be close but I genuinly didnt expect it and not only did he win but Republicans took the house AND the Senate??? Now he has even more power than he did before bc a bunch of his "yes men" are in now...I'm just baffled there is no way that many ppl watched his disastrous campaign and thought "yh I want that" I mean that rally at maddison square garden reminded me of the nazi's...not to mention him undermining democracy, being a felon and convicted of SA oh and also the fact that most of his former cabinet refused to endorse him and said he was incompetent and dangerous...

Thoughts and prayers to all those who worked so hard for change and to not go back but will now be subjected to all the hatred he spreads. Kamala Harris you truly deserved so much better I really hope to see her run again but if not she can come to the UK to be our prime minister anytime I would happily vote for her!💙

I've learned so much about american politics over the last couple of months and have educated myself best I could and even tried to convince some ppl on social media to vote blue I feel defeated and like I could've tried to do more. Its upsetting for women everywhere that ppl really thought it's okay for that creep to be in office. I stand with you and I support you💙

#kamala harris #vote democrat #vote blue #vote harris #harris walz 2024 #donald trump #us elections

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tsbs-shipfessions · 4 months ago

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Ship confessions?

S..Safe place to share rants?

Oh dear how should I say this...

(Warning for anyone not supporting SolarNexus I guess..)

As much as I like the story of how New Moon went deranged from grief and self deterioration: as in finally realising he can never satisfy this "family's" need of him to be thee og Moon himself. A carbon copy replacement with unrealistic expectations set at full high. (Even though factually thanks to Eclipses V1-4 transitions it's shown that it can't possibly be 100% accurate.) Failing again and again over and over till the event of Solar's death finally snapping him. Derailing himself to push everyone away to the point of losing himself entirely as Nexus.

And Solar valuing New Moon so much that he was in absolute distraught when the first thing he hears upon waking was that his best friend, HIS REASON OF HOME, lost himself so far in the name of lone desperation. A desperation he knows all too well thanks to his past Moon's ungracious reaction to unfortunate loss.

Solar knows what it's like to be alone and afraid. He can't possibly leave Nexus like the others like the flip of the switch! Because just as he gave mercy to Eclipse and Ruin, he'd give mercy to Nexus too.

The canon doesn't make any sense!

And, well, being a silent (yet intimidated from this fandom) supporter of SolarNexus...

The angst writer side of me wishes that this story didn't clap off to the cliche "power hungry" complex.

Why not have Solar continue to drive himself to find some cure or solution? In the name of friendship; to justify himself that he can fix it all before it's too late. To not lose another from his (falsely blamed and uncontrolled) faults. To be the reassurance of comfort Nexus so desperately needed.

Why not have Nexus secretly die inside whenever he speaks the words he does not mean; unwillingly pushing himself to the edge every time he starts to believe hope can be retrieved. Falling in the spiral that nothing is real and he has no right to feel and express. The moment Nexus felt like grasping on light is when strings of dark pull him to a choke to remind just exactly who he's working with. Why he even decided to make a deal with DarkSun. That no matter how Nexus puts it, he technically is a husk for dark star power. An element. Like a living battery for some bigger project he may not be entirely aware of. (And my best guess: a tragic death to Dark Sun's intricate plans.)

A reminder so cruel and twisted that Nexus can't possibly see a way out without Solar's guidance and safety.

Life was never fair for the both of them. They both suffered at being blamed and antagonised for things they had no proper control over. They both had self doubts and a sense that they were never home.

(For f--k's sake! Nexus was LOSING HIS MIND!! CRITICAL DANGER OF WELL BEING, and the "family" decided: Hey! Instead of actually getting him proper treatment, lets just lock him in a cell and keep calling him a villain for insulting people! An action he had no say over because HAHA he LoSt hIs mInD. Wha- eH- HUUEUUH???? NnNO???)

But ey! They were Home for each other.

That's why Solar and NM/Nexus's friendship worked so well! They had a sense of comfort to speak and express openly, to have negativity or concerns spill out without backlash. To actually live freely knowing they have each others back!

And I'd like to believe they'd still ache to have this connection again. That Solar would do whatever it takes to have Nexus free from his chains.

Not to be welcomed by the "family", but to be welcomed by Solar's own loving arms. To get proper care, proper help, proper recognition of all parts of Nexus. Both good and bad.

I really think there's tragedy love potential here. I wished to see them fight whatever forces against them to be together again. To get at least that ounce of safety within the chaos.

Whether it's fighting mental illness or dark star power. Who cares! They gonna be together again dAhM iT! Even if it's just a minute before tragic death from DarkSun or somethin! T-T

*COUGH* oUgh man.. what a doozy of a topic..

Thank you so much for reading! And for making this confessions blog! I appreciate it! Was really good to have this off my chest. Wish you and everyone reading a wonderful day/evenin! :)

I admire the hell out of your passion. This was a good read, and has a lot of neat points. Nice going, Anon.

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cacoetheswriting · 1 year ago

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a mutually assured attachment

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 3.9k summary: crossing the thin line between friendship and something more, but not before a few set backs.

warnings: set before tfatws, therapy positive, emotional hurt / comfort, mutual pinning, adult dialogue, use of pet names (sweets, darlin') mentions of food and alcohol consumption, a little bit of jealousy, friends to lovers, a conclusion to a lovely little slow burn

a/n: technically part of a mini-series, but can 100% be read as a standalone. also, unsure if anyone is still following this story, but i wanted to wrap it up ‘cause i really enjoyed starting this series all those months (years eek) ago. plus if anyone stumbles across it in the future, it will be complete! thank you for reading and for your support <3

SERIES MASTERLIST

Bucky Barnes did not think of himself as the jealous type.

Yes, he envied his fair share of individuals he encountered throughout his long life: the people who made life appear easy, those who seemed to have everything figured out, and everyone who took “mundane” for granted.

The regular Joe’s with their nine-to-five jobs, a random group of friends, and not a care past anything other than their stack of overdue bills or their fantasy football league (whatever the hell that was…). The average Jane’s who often reminded Bucky of his own mother, hoping to grow and nurture happy homes, full of sweetness and a load of laughter, desperately trying to shield everyone around them from pain and misery.

Envy, yes. Bucky was familiar with the feeling. Jealousy however… Well, jealousy was different.

Jealousy was usually a side effect of romance. It called for a connection stronger than Bucky allowed himself to form with the people he met ever since he became himself again. It involved trekking on dangerous territory and putting other people at risk, therefore no, James Buchanan Barnes was not the jealous type.

That is until he met you.

He’s learned to admit that you entered his life at a time he did not even realise he needed you most, turning it completely upside down (for the better) and providing him with a glimmer of hope that there was still good in this post-blip world.

He’s grown attached to you, opening up in more ways than one and sharing thoughts he hasn’t spoken about with anyone since Steve. Over time, you have easily grown to be his favourite person.

And now Bucky was sitting at the bar, picking at the label of the beer bottle in his grip while watching you toss your head back in laughter at something this random suit-wearing jerk was saying.

You disappeared for five minutes to go to the bathroom. Bucky thought nothing of it, even ordered you another drink while you were gone. But when you didn’t come back to your seat, stopping instead for a chat with a stranger, you unknowingly caused an unnerving feeling to rush through the brunette sergeant.

This wasn’t the first time someone tried hitting on you while you were out with Bucky, (and considering how jaw droppingly beautiful you were, he was actually quite surprised it didn’t happen more often). However, this was the first time you engaged back in the flirtatious interaction, which was more than unsettling to your blue-eyed neighbour.

He wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smirk off of the dude's face. Quite frankly, the only thing stopping him from doing so was the reason he wished to do it in the first place: you.

Fuck, Bucky cursed himself, this was jealousy.

Shifting in his seat so he wouldn’t have to witness you with that dunce, Bucky brought the beer bottle to his lips and, in one sip, finished what was left of his drink. He then paid the tab and was about to stand when a hand gently squeezed his shoulder, grabbing his attention.

“Sorry about that,” you said and he forced a smile.

“No need, darlin’,” Bucky reassured, hoping the tone of his voice didn’t betray him, although, judging by the elated look on your face, he had nothing to worry about. Your thoughts were focused entirely on something… else.

“I was actually just about to leave,” he added and got to his feet. “Didn’t wanna disturb your conversation.”

You furrowed your brows. “What? No, don’t go,” you implored, sliding your hand from his shoulder down his leather covered arm until your fingers reached the hem of his jacket.

Bucky held his breath as you gripped the material, the softness of your skin just barely brushing against him.

“He gave me his number so I’ll call him later if I feel like it.”

“You stay,” he demanded, “I’ll go. There is something I gotta take care of anyway and I don’t wanna ruin your evening.”

Pursing your lips together, you eyed him suspiciously, scanning every inch of his face for any tale of dishonesty. See, during the time the two of you have spent in each other's company, you have gotten quite good at reading your brooding neighbour, despite his closed off demeanour. Which is how you could clearly see there was something bothering him.

However, you have also come to learn when to stop pushing him and give him space.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Bucky repeated and shooting you one last congenial smile, he walked towards the exit.

You watched him leave, his figure disappearing in the shadows of the rainy New York night. Inhaling a quick breath, you returned to the guy you were chatting with just moments prior, and four drinks later, you stopped thinking about Bucky.

Albeit just for the night.

The next morning you wound up at his door, as usual. When he didn’t immediately answer, you retreated back into your own apartment without giving it a second thought because it was definitely like Bucky to ignore you from time to time.

That afternoon you knocked on his door again, and you repeated the action after returning from work over the next four days — still no Bucky. And because he was also not answering his phone when you called or replied to any of your texts, the worry suddenly spread through your veins making you nauseous.

Feeling conflicted about what to do next (since it wasn’t like you knew anyone else in his life you could reach out to) you decided to distract yourself any way you knew how, hoping one day the grumpy brunette would simply show up at your door as if nothing happened.

Unfortunately for you, keeping your mind from wandering about your blue-eyed neighbour proved harder than you wanted it to be and it wasn’t until a few weeks after you last saw Bucky, the perfect distraction finally made an appearance.

You often debated adopting a pet but your landlord didn’t allow any animals which seemed like reason enough. Now, you were standing face to face with what was perhaps the most beautiful cat you had ever seen, and as you cautiously approached it, the white feline inclined towards you, allowing you to gently run your fingers through its fur and eventually pick it up.

While carrying the cat to your apartment, you researched vet clinics in the area and promptly made an appointment for that same afternoon. Turns out your new furry friend was a she and the epitome of health, making you think there was someone out there missing her immensely.

While at work, you printed out flyers with a picture you took of her and your phone number at the bottom, before dropping them around town during lunch.

For about a week, you waited. Waited for your cell to buzz but no one ever called.

“Alone together, huh…” you murmured, gently running your fingers through her soft fur, “Guess I should give you a name then. Can’t keep calling you cat, you deserve better, don’t you think?”

She purred in response, as if she understood every word you just said, and you couldn’t help but smile.

The next couple of days were spent brainstorming potential names although nothing you came up with seemed to stick because either you didn’t entirely like it or she didn’t respond to it — mostly the latter.

“You’re so stubborn,” you tittered, watching her lick her paw, “I should call you ‘Bucky’.” The name escaped your lips and you immediately froze, your mood dampening.

That night you didn’t sleep. Tossing and turning all night, thinking about the blue-eyed man for the first time since the cat has entered your life.

Stirring sugar into your coffee the following morning, Bucky still occupied your thoughts.

There was something about him you couldn’t quite shake. Despite the majority of the people in your life being there longer than your super soldier neighbour, the connection you two shared, well you couldn’t really explain it. Bucky just made you feel… different.

Frankly, you hated yourself for becoming so codependent on another human. Sure you had a good group of friends and even enjoyed the company of a couple of your colleagues, but no one meant as much to you as James Barnes.

The cat snuggled into your leg, purring softly. You tilted your head down to look at her, her blue eyes reminiscent of Bucky’s, and a defeated sigh escaped your lips.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whispered and she blinked. For a moment you wondered if she sensed the growing sadness in your heart. You remember reading how pets can detect human emotion, which is why they provide so much comfort, but you had a hard time believing it, until now.

The corner of your mouth twitched upwards, shifting your expression into a half-smile. You were about to say something when a distinct jingle of keys drew your attention.

It couldn’t be, you thought and hastily dropped the teaspoon into the sink before heading for your front door.

At first you were almost certain you were seeing a ghost, pale and dishevelled. Then, for a brief second, you didn’t really know who you were looking at. An intruder or someone new moving in perhaps? (A lot of possibilities although you only wanted one to be true.)

It wasn’t until the person turned around, eyes meeting yours instantly, you realised it really was him.

Bucky was back. Unexpectedly. The exact same way he disappeared.

“Hey,” he greeted sheepishly.

Your first instinct was to get angry, but the longer you stared at him, heart thumping, the more you knew that wasn’t the rational thing to do. Anger wouldn’t solve anything, it wouldn’t answer any questions. And you had a lot of questions.

The next thought that ran through your mind was to throw your arms around his neck and nuzzle yourself into his embrace because you missed him goddamnit.

“I-I…”

While you debated exactly how to react and what to say to him, your furry friend squeezed between your legs. The quiet meows grabbed your attention momentarily along with the attention of the brunette man.

With a shaky hand, you lifted the cat up before meeting Bucky’s gaze once again.

“I-I got a pet,” you blurted out, immediately regretting it because what a lame thing to say to someone you genuinely thought you would never see again.

He cleared his throat and responded, “I can see that.” Pause. “What’s um, what’s his name?”

“Her name,” you corrected, “And to be honest she still doesn’t really have one. I’ve just been calling her random things to see what would suit.”

Biting on the inside of his cheek, Bucky fought back a smirk.

“That’s definitely unique,” he commented.

“Don’t tease me, James.”

Just as the two of you returned to your usual banter, silence surrounded once again when his name escaped your lips. An apologetic look spread across Bucky’s features and he took a step in your direction.

“I’m sorry.”

Bucky decided quite early on into his friendship with you that he would do anything to keep you out of harm's way. When his feelings towards you transformed from general fondness into something much stronger, he decided the best way to keep the promise he made to himself would be to distance himself, (at least until said feelings faded).

He never planned on leaving. He simply wanted to make himself unavailable some evenings or weekends, come up with lame excuses as to why he couldn’t hang out. But the night Bucky left you at the bar, returning to his sad apartment alone, he switched on the TV. Suddenly, he needed to visit Sam. He figured you would understand. He never planned being away for so long. He never planned on leaving you behind without so much as an “I’ll be back”.

Looking at you now however, bottom lip quivering and tears in your eyes, he fucked up. He should have at least answered your calls and texts.

You sniffled. The cat, which was now half-resting on your shoulder, alerted immediately to the gentle sound of your undeniable sadness and rubbed its paw against your face.

“Uhm…” you cleared your throat, “I-I should go feed her.”

Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek and nodded. He didn’t want you to leave yet, there was so much he had to say, a lot to explain.

“Right, of course,” he uttered almost sheepishly, “Maybe later if you have some time we can—”

“Maybe,” you cut him off and did a u-turn back into your apartment, “Welcome back, James.”

The next couple of weeks passed uneventfully.

And no, you weren’t avoiding Bucky. Not entirely. It just so happened that every time you had to leave, you did so via the fire escape as opposed to your front door, and every time you heard him out in the hallway, you switched everything off and held your breath, pretending you weren’t home.

You rationalised your behaviour as necessary. It wasn’t avoidance. It was… self preservation. He hurt your feelings when he left. You couldn’t just let him waltz back into your life as if nothing happened, opening yourself up for pain yet again.

Bucky was understanding of your unspoken request to be left the fuck alone. He knew he screwed up but he wasn’t sure how to make things better. All he wanted was to see you smile, and be the reason for it. How could the two of you get to that point when the couple of times you bumped into one another it was awkward?

Was it going to be like this forever?

Luckily, you had your cat to keep you distracted.

Despite not being named yet, she brightened your mornings and had a calming effect in the evenings. She sat at your feet while you were baking and purred into your chest when you were taking a nap. She followed you around the apartment like a trusted companion, even sitting on the bathroom floor while you showered.

So it was strange when one morning she wasn’t in your bed and it was even stranger when you didn’t hear her tapper around the apartment while you were getting ready. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of your stomach when you called her for breakfast by the various names you’ve so far come up with — no response.

By the time you had searched around your whole apartment, you were already late for work. At that point you were thinking you couldn’t go in anyway, your fucking cat was missing. One quick “I think I have food poisoning.” call later, you unlock your laptop in search for the flyers you made when you found her. Tears formed in your eyes while adjusting the title from ‘IS THIS YOUR CAT?’ to ‘HAVE YOU SEEN MY CAT?.

That’s when you knew you couldn’t do this alone.

A short two minutes later, your knuckles are pressed against the wooden door of your neighbours apartment. One, two, three gentle knocks later, and Bucky is standing in front of you.

“I need your help,” is all you managed to blurt out. It’s all you needed to say, really. Bucky doesn’t need any further explanation when it comes to you. He grabbed his jacket and followed you without question.

When you showed him the poster on your laptop screen, he reassured you in a calm tone. One that almost makes you believe him. One that almost makes you forget that he’s left you all alone, without a word. Almost.

“When did you last see her?” Bucky asked.

When you shrugged your shoulders in a defeated manner, he sighed softly and without really thinking about where your friendship currently stood, wrapped his strong arms around you. The second his frame closed around yours, you burst into tears, face pressed against his chest as he held you close, consoling you.

The world seems to come to a stand still at that moment.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stood there. Seconds, minutes. He did, however, manage to calm you down, bringing the waterfall to barely a trickle as you sniffled against his t-shirt.

When Bucky eventually dropped his arms, you avoided his gaze. Scared to admit out loud how good that felt and how glad you were he was here for you, since he’s hurt you once when you became too attached, and you weren’t going to let him do it again.

“How about you stay here, in case she comes back, and I’ll go search for her outside?” Bucky suggested, dipping his head to try and meet your teary eyes. His hand is on your shoulder, barely holding on as if he was afraid you would suddenly flinch and pull away — which he most definitely was.

All you did was nod, and as he headed out the door, a quiet “thank you” escaped your lips.

“Anything for you, darlin’.” Is what you think you heard, but the tone of Bucky’s voice is so quiet, you rationalised that you heard wrong.

The day was spent wandering aimlessly around your apartment, checking your phone every two minutes to see if Bucky had had any updates on the whereabouts of your little pet. He had not.

By the time the sky turned dusky dark, you had lost all hope. She’d never be found. It was as if the universe only meant for you to be together while Bucky was away. You couldn’t have both. That would be too good, too lucky.

But just as you were about to start crying again, a glass of cheap wine in hand, the doorknob rattled and seconds later, in walked Bucky, holding your precious feline friend in his metal arm.

“Oh my god,” you exhaled as relief took over your entire body.

You ambled forward, reaching for the cat in Bucky’s grasp as she meowed uncontrollably, seemingly happy to see you. And Bucky smiled as he watched you snuggle into the white creature, heartbeat growing tenfold with every tick of the clock.

“She uh,” he began as you moved across your apartment, settling down on the couch, “She’s quite the climber, that one. After a day of searching half of Brooklyn, I eventually found her on the rooftop of this very building.”

“Thank you,” you said without averting your gaze from your furry white friend.

What he wanted to say is, “Just glad I could be here for you,” but what he uttered instead was, “Don’t mention it, darlin’.”

For a moment, Bucky hovered in your entryway, unsure whether you wanted him to leave now or if he could stay, just like he did many times before. He decided to not push it. Decided it’s best for the longevity of your friendship to not force anything with you, especially since the strong feelings he had for you before he left have only increased in the time apart — complete opposite of what he wanted to happen.

So he turned on his heel, but just as he was about to say goodnight, you turned your attention to where he stood and waved him over.

“Stay,” you requested, “The least I can do as a thank you is order us some takeout.”

“You don’t have to do that, darlin’.”

“I want to,” you said honestly, hoping he can detect your sincerity, “Stay, please. I-I let you walk away once before and ended up not seeing you for months.”

He swallowed, but didn’t say anything.

“Please stay. I want you to stay, James.”

The morning light trickled in through your half-opened curtains, causing your eyes to open slightly and take in your usual surroundings. Except these weren’t entirely your usual surroundings. There was one thing different this Saturday morning as compared to others.

Bucky was still asleep, covered loosely by one of your many blankets. His chest heaved softly, quiet breathes escaping through his parted lips. He looked so peaceful sleeping in your bed, sleeping next to you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight before you.

You shifted to your side and slowly trailed your gaze along his pretty perfect features, focusing on the details you’ve honestly never noticed before. The scruff perfectly angling his jawline, the little crinkles in the corner of his eyes showcasing how he’s aged over the years, barely noticeable but still present.

Then the cat made an appearance, jumping on the bed, settling between you and the super soldier. Before you got a chance to shush it, not wanting to wake Bucky up, she purred against his shoulder.

A smile crept up on his features at the contact. Seconds later, he opened his eyes before slowly tilting his head to first look at the pet, then at you.

“Good mornin’.”

“Hey.”

There’s a moment of silence during which you two simply stare at one another. Time seemed to have come to a standstill. The blue of his eyes piercing, searching your gaze for what, neither of you were really sure. All you both knew was the longer you remained this way, the more your hearts swelled.

Bucky was suddenly feeling nervous, as were you.

“Thank you for staying,” you eventually whispered.

“Thank you for asking me to stay,” he replied.

Another second of silence.

There was so much Bucky wanted to tell you, but the words were stuck in his throat because how can someone go from avoiding, leaving without a word, to admitting that they cannot live without the other person. And that’s exactly how he was feeling. He’s come to terms with it now. He couldn’t live without you.

Would you even feel the same? He wouldn’t expect you to. In fact, he would think you’d want to remain a little distant given everything that’s happened. But then again, if that’s how you felt, then why would you ask him to stay?

Maybe you just needed the extra push, same as him.

“Think you should name her Alpine,” Bucky suggested, one hand rubbing the cat that was now sitting on his chest, while the other reached for your fingers. Slow, but not hesitant.

“Alpine,” you tested the name on your lips. “I like that.”

You take his hand then, intertwining your fingers together without commenting on the fact. He squeezed gently, testing the waters further, and you squeezed back — again, both of you choosing not to say anything about the physical interaction.

“Did you have any plans for today?” Bucky asked and you shook your head. “So, would you eh, would you wanna go somewhere?”

The smile on your lips widened.

“We do have a lot of catching up to do, neighbour.” A modest tease. One you hope won’t ruin the moment, or the day ahead.

He just chuckled, mimicking your expression and making any worries disappear just as fast as they threatened to break through.

“That we do, darlin’.” Pause. “I’m sorry for messing it all up. I promise to make it up to you, starting today.”

Taking his apology in, you let go of his hand, instantly missing his touch. Bucky was too, but he didn't get to completely register just how much because you shuffled closer to where he lay, closing the gap between you.

One arm extended towards his chest, resting gently as your fingers brushed a now sleeping Alpine, and also grazed against Bucky’s own in the process. The thudding of your heart inside your chest was most likely loud enough for him to hear — it was. He focused on it, the beating, and it calmed him entirely.

Your aura calmed him. It has since day one and he hoped it would until the end of his days on this Earth.

Yes, Bucky was more than attached to you.

Luckily, the feeling was mutual.

Sealed with a soft kiss.

as always, thank you so so much for reading, and please reblog to tell me what you think! <3

main masterlist

#phew— this was a LONG time coming jesus #happy reading <3 #a mutually assured attachment #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #neighbor!bucky #neighbor!bucky barnes x reader

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aliceinborderlandsquidgame · 1 year ago

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Family in hell | Dad!Chishiya x Mom!Reader + Platonic!Son

Warnings: AU - Dad!Chishiya - Mom!Reader - Mentions of pregnancy - Canon typical violence - MDI - +18

Chishiya would blame god if he ever believed in one to start with. He really saw no reason for his family to be in a place like this.

He on other hand...well he knew he was not perfect and had lots of problems when it came down to emotions and being social with others, not caring for the rest was his way of living.

"Dad?"

Till his son came to the world.

Truly, he was an accident. Chishiya never planned to get you pregnant and your relationship had started as only a sexual one. But later he found himself falling harder for you.

And since he sucked at showing feelings his way was to have even more sex with you. So maybe that did the trick and ended with you pregnant of him.

In that moment he was happy, for the first time in years he was so happy to have a family, even if it came at some of the worse times possible with him still in college.

Oh, If only he had know these were not going to be the worse times.

This place, whatever it was, this was the worse.

It was hell.

Chishiya had decided he would use anyone and everything to keep both of you safe.

"Sasaki, he is sleeping love, the day was long, why dont we go get him some food?" You gentle voice could be hear in the dak room.

It had been a hard day indeed. Chishiya almost lost his son because of a stupid player and then you got a nasty burn protecting him.

He had took you back to the beach and making sure your wound was not severe. He had to calm his crying son, Sasaki was young and intelligent but he was still a kid who loved his parents, crying was not something he would not do.

Completly different from Chishiya.

When the hard truth of this place has hit him, Chishiya explained to his young kid how the "games" needed to be winned no matter what.

"But cant we all win?"

These were his words at first, he had got your kind nature.

"Not here. Do you remember Hajime?" His kid nodded at the mention of his school bully "He was always mean right? And wanted to win everytime, well now I need you to do the same"

"You only have to do this for a short time, your dad and I will be taking care of the rest" You added ruffling his hair.

The memory faded away as he hear the door Open and only one pair of steps.

"Where is he?" Chishiya asked turning around to see you with some fruits.

"He is fine and safe, Kuina took him to the small pool and she will make sure no one comes close to him"

Chishiya nodded, taking the appel you had brought back.

"We need to leave this place, I dont trust it will support itself much longer"

"Chishiya, Hatter knows what he is doing" You said taking a seat besides him.

"Does he? Do I need to remind you we had to specially ask that he would let the three of us go together? He is giving this people fake hope, and thats dangerous"

His words were true, part of you did not want to believe it. The beach was a safe heaven at first, having a bed to come after the games, food...but it was too good to be true. The place has its dark side and you knew they could use your son to get Chishiya.

"I know, but we need to be carefull. You need to tell me your plan"

"No. You and Sasaki Will have to act as if you two never had any type of information. If someone goes down it wont you or him, and trust me it wont be me either" Chishiya assured you kissing the top of your head. "Today I almost lost him and you, I wont let that happen again, I promise"

The door opened again a nervous Kuina appearing and your son running into the room with the biggest smile.

"Mom! Dad! Look" Sasaki said pointing at one animal made by balloons "A guy made me this!! And he asked if you two would go to the bar but I dont know what that is, oh!! And then I-"

"Sorry" Kuina whispers to you "the guy was Tatta, he is good. But I tought it would be better if he is with his parents"

"Thank you Kuina" you responded smiling then looking at how Chishiya was nodding as your kid told him about this animal and its name. It was the most sincere smile he has ever made.

"I will go now, if you two want some...alone time let me know, I love taking care of him" Kuina said giving you a wink then leaving.

"Dad, will we go back to the Real world?" Sasaki asked making Chishiya freez.

"I dont know Son, but what I do know its that your mom and you are the most important things to me and nothing Will change it"

"And I love you and mom too!! I Will fight for you Dad, mom will be safe"

You had to turn your face to not let him see your tears. He was so inoccent and sweet, truly not made for here.

Chishiya pulled you and your kid for a family hug, with how things had been and how things could get he had learn this was the best moment he could have.

And he swears, more times like this one will come. Because no one matters besides his family.

#aib imagine #aib imagines #alice in borderland x reader #chishiya x reader

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halfmoth-halfman · 2 years ago

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vi. would you give the devil this dance

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: blood, wounds, violence mention Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: a smaller chapter before we start really getting into the relationship-y bits! prev | next

You don’t sleep.

You try, force your eyes shut and block out the rattling of your motel’s partially broken a/c to no avail. After hours of tossing and turning and endless frustration, you almost feel it, eyes slipping shut just enough to let your body finally relax.

A bloody and beaten man groans in the chair he’s tied to.

Blue eyes burning with anger and authority and unmistakable desire stare directly into your own.

“You don’t touch what’s mine.”

Your eyes snap open as you cover your face with your spare pillow, letting out a scream of frustration into the pillowcase.

You don’t know what happened after that, what became of the man who had touched you.

(Unable to move, Price’s eyes staring so intensely into yours, you stood frozen in the doorway. He broke away first, releasing the beaten man’s hair. The man’s head drops to his chest as Price turns his back, casually flicking the blood from his hands.

The moment gone, you hurriedly stepped back from the door, rushing towards the front of the club with no other thoughts than to escape. You had all but burst out of the club, gulping down breaths of the crisp night air. Alejandro hadn’t questioned you but stuck close by as he walked you to your car. You thanked him, quiet and distracted, before getting in your car.

You barely remember the drive back to your motel, barely remember getting ready for bed, your mind swirling with the same thought.

Blood and blue eyes.)

You’ve been plagued the entire night, unable to sort your feelings for what you’ve seen.

This shouldn’t surprise you—it doesn’t surprise you. You know what kind of place the club is, what kind of people run it. You know what kind of man your boss is; you’ve heard enough stories to know better than to think he and those who work for him aren’t dangerous.

It’s harder to remember when you’re laughing with Soap and Alex.

Or singing with Farah.

…Or flirting with Price.

Men like that think everything belongs to them, your father once spat.

“You don’t touch what’s mine.”

Fear and desire swirl through your body, heart hammering against your chest.

The pillow sails across the room as you hurl it with a frustrated yell.

You should’ve learned this lesson already. Because of that lesson, you’re stuck in this shitty motel room, lying on a shitty mattress, staring up at a shitty ceiling.

But this is a different situation…isn’t it?

Yes, Price is dangerous—the entire 141 is dangerous—but you’ve been surrounded by dangerous people your whole life. Why should you be more cautious with them than you had been with anyone else? They’ve been kind, if understandably wary, to you, never once prying or trying to smother you with overly-friendly gestures.

They’ve been far more honest about how they feel about you than—

You sit up, drawing your knees up to your chest.

You’ve always been guarded—a trait your father would constantly remind you was one of the few that would help you survive in this kind of life. You understood why, kept a healthy skepticism when interacting with those around you, but deep down, you feared ending up as alone and paranoid as he was.

You couldn’t help it, needing more than yourself toward the end of his years, and you let that guard down just enough to build yourself a support network of people you thought you could trust.

For a time, things seemed to work.

Until they didn’t.

Your father’s voice echoed in your head for so many years after his passing: I told you so. I told you so. I told you so.

You had let your guard down, and here you are, reaping the consequences.

Now, you know better.

But you think back to Kyle’s bright smile, Roach’s endless excitement, Valeria’s smug protectiveness.

Price’s blue eyes.

Despite every instinct, you trust them. Maybe not with your life—not yet—but far more than anyone else you’ve known. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have stayed here as long as you have.

You wouldn’t have considered staying longer.

You don’t have to pour your heart out, but…they didn’t deserve to be judged based on someone else’s actions.

Maybe—

Light hits your eyes, and you squeeze them shut, flopping back on your bed. You blink, trying to let them adjust as you see the soft rays of the sun’s morning light slowly creeping into the room.

“Not like I needed the sleep anyways,” you sigh, more sadness than sarcasm.

You let yourself lie there for another half hour, not trying to sleep but not letting your mind wander anymore.

When the alarm on your phone goes off, you shut it off within seconds, heading straight for the shower with no second thoughts.

You take your time getting ready, heading to your car a little later than usual. The drive is quick, but you spend a few extra minutes in your car after you’ve parked. You stare into the rearview mirror, eyes glued to the reflection of the duffle bag sitting in your backseat.

One day.

You tuck the duffle bag down onto the floorboards before locking your car—twice, and then a third time—and heading inside.

“Alex, you think I can get a hot tea this earl—” You freeze as soon as you reach the bar, staring blankly at the man, who is definitely not Alex standing behind the bar.

“What kind do you like?” Price smirks.

Your breath catches, heart nearly skipping a beat.

Cold, blue eyes.

“You don’t touch what’s mine.”

A shiver runs down your spine and settles dangerously low in the pit of your belly.

“You’re not Alex,” your mouth says before your brain can catch up. Price laughs, an actual, slightly surprised, laugh.

“No, I’m not. Though, this wouldn’t be the first time someone’s confused us for one another.” He winks at you, and you curse the sudden weakness in your knees.

You climb the stairs, watching him as he returns to what he’d been doing before you arrived: piling ice cubes onto a dishrag. You hold your questions, taking a seat on the barstool right in front of him as he wraps the rag around the ice, tightly tying it closed.

Don’t stare at his hands. Don’t stare at his hands. Don’t stare at his strong, warm—

“You know you own the club, right? You don’t have to steal ice.”

Good. Deflect with humor.

“Is it stealing if I already own it?” Price counters with a small quirk of his brow. You shrug, but before you can answer, he holds up his right hand to show you the absolutely battered state of his knuckles.

Swollen and red, a few split open and scabbed, you grimace at the sight.

“Trying to get the swelling down,” Price explains with a sigh, setting his hand flat on the bar top and placing the makeshift icepack onto his knuckles with a soft hiss.

“You didn’t have Rudy take a look?” you ask, forcing down any nerves and keeping your eyes trained on the icepack.

“I will when he comes in.”

“How long will that be?” You chance a glance up at his face, raising a brow toward him. It’s his turn to avoid your gaze as the silence that stretches gives you your answer.

You don’t have to pour your heart out.

But you can start with the little things.

“Alex keeps a first-aid kit back there somewhere,” you sigh, standing so you can lean over the bar and look behind it. “It should be in one of those cabinets.” You nod your head toward one of the cabinets under the shelf of clean glasses.

“And?” Price watches you curiously, head tilted in confusion.

“And I can’t help you with…that—” you gesture to his hand, “—if you don’t get it.”

He doesn’t move, staring down at you with his brows knitted together as you stare right back. A beat of silence passes before he huffs a laugh and heads for the cabinet.

You settle back onto your seat as he returns, sliding the kit across the bar to you. You pull what you need, making a mental note to text Alex—or Man of Steel as Soap’s renamed him in your phone—and let him know you’ve used his stuff.

“Let me see your hand,” you say firmly, not commanding but leaving no room for argument. Price obeys, leaning forward against the bar and holding his hand out in front of you. You take his hand in yours, carefully pulling it closer so you can get a better look.

How is he so warm?

You push back that annoying little voice, focusing on your task instead. You let go of him—your hand suddenly so much colder—tearing open an alcohol pad and unfolding it.

“This might sting,” you warn, grabbing his hand again.

“I’ve dealt with worse.”

You give a quiet hum and start with the worst-looking knuckle. You can feel him tense, fingers twitching ever-so-slightly against your wrist, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t make a single sound, simply watches you work to clean his wounds. Eventually, the pain melds into numbness and his fingers settle against the skin of his wrists, resting gently over your pulse.

You try to finish before he can feel how quickly your heart is beating. You pull away as soon as you’re done, but his hand stays in place; his fingertips trailing from your wrist to your palm. You try not to think about it or the way he’s just staring at you as you unravel a roll of gauze.

You barely start wrapping his hand when he finally speaks, “You’re not going to ask how it happened?”

Your hand stutters briefly as you wind the gauze around him.

The man’s head lolls, nose crooked beyond repair, blood spilling endlessly from his mouth.

“You don’t touch what’s mine.”

You look up at him, those blue eyes no longer cold but something kind and curious. You turn your gaze down, back to his hand, and with your voice barely above a whisper, you answer, “I know how it happened.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

You don’t elaborate and he doesn’t press.

“Do I scare you?”

“No,” you answer honestly. You pause your bandaging, leaning back to look him square in the eyes. “Should I be scared?”

His face softens into something you only have distant memories of. Something gentle and long gone that makes your heart clench with a dangerous fondness.

“No,” he says, hand settling into yours as his fingers carefully and slowly wrap around your wrist. You nod, waiting a moment before pulling your hand out of his grasp. He lets you go without objection, and you return to wrapping his hand.

Neither of you speaks as you finish your bandaging. You pack up the first-aid kit while he flexes and wiggles his fingers, letting out a satisfied hum.

“What did you do with him?” you ask softly. “After, I mean.”

Price glances over to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “You don’t think I killed him?”

He's joking now, but you wouldn't put it past him.

“Did you?”

“No,” he chuckles, leaning on his elbows and clasping his hands together. “Nik dropped him off near another club, and the police received an anonymous tip about a man who’d been mugged.”

“You don’t think he’ll tell them who did it?”

“Not if his parents want to stay in business,” Price says with a casual shrug.

“Did you…” You take a moment to consider your words. “Do you know him? Do you know his family?”

“I know everyone.”

Of course, he does.

“Should’ve kept him overnight. Doubt his parents would’ve minded,” Price mutters, the disdain clear in his voice.

“Why?” you ask, leaning on your elbow and setting your chin in your palm.

Price tilts his head, brow raised at you, “Why keep him?”

“Why do it at all?” you explain. “König and Ghost seemed to have it handled.”

Price considers for a minute, thumb absentmindedly picking at the fresh bandages on his other hand. When he seemingly has his answer, he meets your eyes, that same softness in his face laced with something much more dangerous.

He leans forward, leaving only a few inches of space between you. “Think you already know the answer to that, love.”

“You don’t touch what’s mine.”

You let the statement sink in, taking in his rich scent and the ocean blue of his eyes. You don’t know if what you feel is anything more than want and desire, but would that be so bad? Why deny yourself this chance for fun or the opportunity for something more?

You can’t let yourself be haunted by your past forever, and, unsure as you are, you know one thing to be true:

You’ve never felt safer than you do around him.

You smile, somewhat genuine and mostly teasing, leaning in just a bit closer.

“Maybe I do,” you purr, watching his eyes drop to your lips. You linger for a second before pulling back entirely. “Or maybe I don’t. I wouldn’t mind an extra clue or two.”

You wink at him, watching the soft fondness in his face turn to a heated gaze as he watches you stand from the barstool. He gives you a slow once-over and rasps, “Could give you one right now.”

“Maybe another time,” you laugh, heat flooding your cheeks and sliding down to pool in your lower belly. “Some of us have work to do.”

“Later then?” he calls as you begin making your way down the steps, “Wish you luck before your show tonight.”

You laugh, throwing a playful wink over your shoulder, “Why don’t you surprise me?”

“Whatever the lady wants.”

Oh, does she want.

taglist: @sleepyendymion, @blazedprince, @blueoorchid, @ohgodthebogisback, @melancholyy-hill, @wasteland-babe, @meepetteoneonly, @anitaebee, @honeyr4ven, @curasimp, @jxvipike, @frazie99, @reiya-djarin, @urfavsunkissedleo, @hauntingtherosebush,@aerangi, @ofmenanduhhhwellmen, @warners-wife, @xx4rcticxx, @mundane-frogola, @marytvirgin, @nyooom, @gogh-with-the-flow, @arctic-writes, @thriving-n-jiving, @deadpoetsandhoney, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @blurpleuni-squid, @dead-noodles, @urfavsunkissedleo, @tapioca-marzipan, @averyyreads, @sourire-acide

#captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #captain price #john price #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #mw fics #moth writes

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grandlinedreams · 1 year ago

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I know i request alot but i love your writing smmm

Do u mind if u r comie with writing law’s reaction if he thought his girlfriend was cheating on him?like his reaction and if he confronts or not

Emphasize on thought (she didn't cheat he misunderstood)

Stay safe aurhor chan 🖤

Hiya bb, no worries!! I'm glad that you like my writing!! And you stay safe too!! But I also hope this is to your liking!!

[Heads up!: mention of hypothetical infidelity but isn't really abt that, Law is just an anxious babe, insecurity, a lil angst, afab!reader]

"Are you excited about going home?"

You shrug, trying to play off the rise of nervouse excitement that swells in your chest as you answer Penguin. "A little, it's been ages so I'm not sure anyone's going to remember me."

"I'm sure they will," Penguin reassures you and you beam, though it dims a little as you're abruptly reminded of someone who had not shared your enthusiasm about stopping for supplies at your home island.

Law is never particularly enthusiastic about anything, but the soft smile he'd worn at the start of your excited ramble about where Bepo said you were heading had disappeared at a record rate. By the time you were done, his answers had gone to a measure of about two words if you were lucky, and you'd finally given up, heart sinking.

You don't know what the problem is. It's not as though you're planning on leaving the Heart Pirates, planning on leaving him ㅡ you would never. Though you've missed the comforts that always come with the thoughts of home, you're not about to abandon the home that you have now.

ㅡ

Law is afraid that you'll leave.

He doesn't know where the fear has come from given that it's baseless, but the enthusiasm and soft-expressioned way you describe your home island only furthers that creeping feeling until he's trying hard not to think about.

And truth be told, he wouldn't blame you if you did. Being a pirate is dangerous, especially when the bounty only continues to grow ㅡ and though he absolutely tries, he knows he can't promise your safety all the time.

You deserve stability and safety, a future that you can look to and find strong foundation in. You deserve more than what he can give you.

And though it hurts to think about the idea of losing you, Law tells himself that he'll support your decision, no matter what it may be.

ㅡ

To your surprise, there's more than a few people who recognize you, waving and offering greetings.

"Look at you, a genuine pirate now!"

"Staying out of trouble, right? Don't wanna see that pretty face on a Wanted poster!"

Law watches the way you interact with them and chastises himself for getting too into his worries of you wanting to stay here. It's clear that you miss it, but you never stray far from the small group that you've lead to gather supplies.

That is until there's a call of your name and Law looks over to find it to be an unfamilar man, perhaps a year or two younger than himself. He opens his arms, and jealousy rears its ugly green head in Law's chest when you dart forward to throw yourself into him.

He spins you, earning a shriek of delight from you before he sets you down. What he says next is inaudible, but he talks for several moments before your expression shifts to an unreadable one.

"Hey guys," you call, "canㅡcan you finish up without me? I'll meet you in a little bit, I just need to go do something."

There's varying murmurs of agreement, but something ugly blossoms in Law's stomach at the way your hand curls around the newcomer's.

ㅡ

When sunset rolls around and you still haven't come back to the Polar Tang, the ugly thing has curled claws deep into him and sewn its seeds of dissent.

Law knows you would never cheat on him, he knows ㅡ but the familiarity with which you'd treated the other man makes him wonder if you'd be happier with him rather than Law.

Again, if you'd be happier here.

Staring out at the town, it takes him a minute to register that the form growing closer is you, heart giving an uneasy lurch when he sees you lift an arm to your face. Had that other man hurt you?

A quiet "shambles" has him just a few feet from you now and you jolt, startled. "Law?"

"You've been crying," Law points out instead, the tear tracks that glisten on your cheeks. "Did that guyㅡ"

"He didn't do anything," you say, sweeping a hand over both your eyes to rid yourself of remnants. "He went with me to see my parents' graves. He's pretty much been my big brother since I was little, so he said he told everyone else that he wanted to be the one to tell me they'd passed."

Oh.

Law feels awful. He'd been worrying about you cheating on him, leaving him ㅡ and you hadn't been doing either. How could he think so little of you?

He steps closer, tugging you into his arms, heart aching at the muffled hiccup. He doesn't need to ask if you're okay when you're clearly not ㅡ and he feels even worse for the brief flare of satisfaction that you cling to him, fingers curled into his jacket.

"Sorry for worrying you," you mumble softly, "Should've come back sooner."

"Don't apologize." He pauses. "...it's me who should be doing that." When you pull away to look up at him, he looks away. "...I was worried you'd want to stay here. It's safer here, and you could find someone to give you what you deserve. Things I don't know if I can."

You stare blankly as you register his words, and he absolutely loathes the renewed shine of tears in your eyes. "Leave the Heart Pirates? The Polar Tang? You? Trafalgar Law, I would never."

He flinches at the usage of his full name, watching as you sniffle. "You owe me for making me cry again, idiot."

The uneasy tension in his chest starts to let up. "I do," he says. "I'll do anything you want me to."

You take the half-step needed to press your face back into his chest, your voice mumbled. "Can you shambles us back onto the ship? I'm tired and I wanna go home. My real home."

Relief floods his veins at your reassurance that you aren't going anywhere anytime soon, that he has nothing to worry about. That you're his as much as he's yours.

"Yeah," he answers. "Let's go home."

#ㅡmine.#one piece x reader #one piece scenario #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #ㅡanswered.#–ml: law.

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paintingwhiteceilings · 1 year ago

Text

❃Seventeen’s chances of surviving a zombie apocalypse❃

a/n: soooo I wrote this for EXO and thought, well, why not do the same for svt. Anyway, enjoy!

Scoups/Seungcheol: 8/10

❀ The fists are up and he is ready to fight anyone or anything that gets too close. His physical strength will definitely get him far. At the same time, this man is also a bit, just a bit, of a scaredy-cat when it comes to horror stuff (remember him and DK in the haunted house?). In this case, it might actually help him out, keeping him on his toes constantly.

❀ He is super competitive too. If anyone lets it slip that he might not survive the apocalypse, he will make it his sole goal in life to out-apocalypse everyone around him.

❀ Then again, as the members like to remind him, he is not the youngest and perhaps doesn’t have the best endurance any more. He needs to sit down every now and then, leaving him prone to zombies.

❀ He will definitely be complaining the entire time. Somehow, he manages to make his situation sound much worse than it really is.

Jeonghan: 9/10

❀ Nothing really phases him, I feel like Jeonghan has maxed out all his stats and has, consequently, become unstoppable. He is an absolute ace and makes everyone wonder whether he was born to be in a zombie apocalypse.

❀ The only reason I am docking a point is due to this man’s constant exhaustion and love for sleep. His main motto is “Better be lazy than tired” so I wouldn’t be surprised at Jeonghan trying to find ways to shortcut the most basic of tasks. There is a slight, very tiny, chance for his master-mind plans to go awry.

❀ Once he finds himself in a dangerous situation or on the brink of being eaten, he will simply give up. Maybe life is truly easier as a zombie. At least he won’t have to constantly be on the run.

❀ Still, Jeonghan will be going through this apocalypse in the most efficient way possible, trying to find any loopholes to make his life easier and preserving his energy for those moments when he truly needs it.

Joshua 5/10

❀ Honestly, Joshua is such a wild card. He would definitely try to employ the “they can’t predict what I am doing if I don’t know what I am doing” tactic. Joshua becomes the definition of “can’t let them know your next move.”

❀ It would work half of the time. Either the zombies get so confused that he catches them off guard, or all he did was inconvenience himself further.

❀ Like, what if, instead of running away from the zombies, he would run towards them? The zombies would definitely not be expecting it but it would make it easier for them to, you know, kill him.

❀ His ideas are borderline insane, and nobody can really tell whether it is due to the apocalypse or because he is Joshua, having always been slightly out of his mind. He will definitely get someone else accidentally killed by suggesting a crazy plan. My money is on Hoshi.

Jun 4/10

❀ The reason this man has any chance of survival is because Seventeen treats him like a maknae. I am pretty sure they would sacrifice anyone and anything to keep him alive, and he kind of needs it.

❀ Jun isn’t particularly known for his amazing talent at sports. He always gets picked last in any GoSe episode containing physical games which makes his odds of surviving not too great. Like yeah, sure, he is ripped and probably has amazing endurance, but ask him to throw anything and he will miss.

❀ He is also unpredictable and doesn’t really listen to the others. They will tell him not to touch the zombies and he will see it as a challenge, “I can touch a zombie if I want to!”

❀ 10000000% the type to try and communicate with the zombies. He is convinced that if he can learn Korean, he can also learn zombie and ask them if they can become friends.

❀ (Maybe slightly unrelated, but he would be an amazing person to have around for emotional support. He would be great at comforting those feeling pessimistic, scared or upset.)

Hoshi/Soonyoung: -100000/10 or 100000/10

❀ It can go two ways with Hoshi. Either he hides somewhere and vanishes from the universe until the apocalypse has ended or he gets himself killed within the first day.

❀ Hoshi has proven that if he doesn’t want to be found, you won’t find him. Somehow, this energetic mess of a Gemini is able to turn invisible when he wants to. Depending on how bored he gets, he might be able to stick it out until the apocalypse has ended.

❀ If he doesn’t hide, he is as good as dead. He has the dangerous combination of not being scared of zombies and zero impulse control. He will be trying something stupid without a second thought and would get himself killed.

❀ He growls at the zombies because surely, they would be intimidated by him. He is a tiger, after all.

❀ His members are seriously considering putting a leash on him so that he can’t constantly run off doing god knows what. He just really hates sitting still, let him go risk his life getting provisions.

❀ Honestly, the main reason why Hoshi won’t survive for long is because he would do another impression of Seungkwan, resulting in Seungkwan ‘accidentally’ kicking him into a hoard of zombies.

Wonwoo: 10/10

❀ He has played enough games and watched enough Netflix to know what to do in the event of a zombie apocalypse. Wonwoo is prepared, well-read and ready to go. He will be the smart one that tries to find out what makes the zombies tick, taking notes on their behaviours and potential weaknesses.

❀ Wonwoo is, furthermore, so incredibly athletic. He can outrun the zombies with ease, not even breaking a sweat when he does.

❀ He also seems to possess brain cells compared to some of the members and a dose of common sense. I know that there is no normal one in Seventeen but he seems to put a lot of thought in his decision-making and seems less inclined to listen to his intrusive thoughts.

❀ Wonwoo could survive on his own, his introverted side ensuring that he doesn’t really feel the need to seek out others and depend on them. The only reason he sticks around the other members is for the drama. He loves watching the others bicker for hours, eating his popcorn as he lurks in the nearby shadows.

Woozi/Jihoon: ∞/10

❀ He has no idea that there is a zombie apocalypse going on because he hasn’t really gone outside since it started. Yeah sure, the gym he frequents has been really quiet as of late, but that is an absolute win in his book and he is not to going to jinx it by mentioning it.

❀ The world could literally be ending on the other side of his window, and this man would think that the sirens would make for an awesome sample for his song. What do you mean, sirens mean that something is going on outside?

❀ It doesn’t even matter if the other members come to check up on him or try to convince him to leave the studio, informing him the world is ending. “What do you mean it is dangerous outside, it always is dangerous outside.”

❀ He will simply survive the entire apocalypse because he had no awareness of it and it had no awareness of him. Woozi is on another level entirely.

DK/Seokmin: -1000/10

❀ An absolute mess. Somewhere laying on the ground in the feudal position up for grabs.

❀ He has been screaming since it started. The joke is on him, though. His screaming is precisely what alerts the zombies to his location and he is completely unaware of it. He finds himself in a vicious cycle where he sees a zombie, screams, more zombies appear, screams more, etc.

❀ He is ruled by his fear, trying his hardest not to be scared, but is in dire need of a hug. He needs the other members to comfort him and take the initiative because he is too scared to really do anything. He will definitely get someone else to go first; what do you mean you want him to go into that dark alleyway???

❀ He would not be able to respond well to finding himself cornered by zombies. Rather than fighting back or trying to come up with a plan, DK would most definitely just scream at them to get back and freeze.

Mingyu 1/10

❀ Technically, Mingyu should be able to survive. He is an excellent cook and can whip up any dish as long as you give him some ingredients. Also, as we have all seen, this man is mostly muscle. He should be able to hold his own in a physical fight.

❀ Not to mention that Mingyu is ridiculously smart. He can come up with a decent plan and have it work out.

❀ But his downfall is, well, literally, him falling down. He is clumsy; he will either accidentally drop something that is important to their survival and break it, or run into a tree as he is trying to make his escape.

❀ He is also not the best when it comes to the scary stuff (though I feel like he did pretty well in GoSe Ego). What do you mean he has to jump down from that ledge in order to escape the zombies? No thank you. Go into that abandoned supermarket, potentially running into zombies because he has run out of food? He would rather starve.

❀ They kind of need to keep him alive to keep Seungkwan from murdering half of the group.

The8/Minghao: 10000/10

❀ He is not scared of the zombies, the zombies are scared of him. They have interrupted his meditation sessions and are now regretting awakening his anger issues. He hasn’t been chill since the apocalypse started, and is now on a path of vengeance against those who disrupted his meditation.

❀ I know that Vicious Mockery is a D&D spell and, you know, magic, but he would be the one to make it a reality. He is able to emotionally damage the zombies, giving him the ability to attack from afar. As an added bonus, they would become more and more reluctant to get close, afraid to get roasted.

❀ Considering that he is great at martial art, Minghao can beat them up physically if they make the poor decision to get up in his personal space. So yeah, the zombies have learned to avoid him at all costs.

❀ The only thing that could potentially stop his destruction of zombies is the ethics and morals of beating them up. He might get into a debate with Vernon about whether their remaining humanity makes it unethical to hurt them, and ultimately decides that it is bad for his karma to continue his act of wrath.

Seungkwan: 5/10

❀ Initially, Seungkwan is so scared of them, he won’t get close enough to get killed. He is constantly nagging the zombies from a safe distance, warning them to stay away. All it does is make the zombies more determined to kill him. He keeps asking them to stop, but apparently, the tone he uses is important or something because they keep getting offended.

❀ Honestly, without Seungkwan’s constant nagging, half of the group would be acting on their insane and idiotic ideas. Then again, he would also be the one to ‘accidentally’ sacrifice some of the members when they inevitably get on his nerves.

❀ He would be ready to throw hands if you get him mad enough, forgetting he was scared in the first place. However, where Minghao’s anger issues result in a skilled display of violence, Seungkwan is ready to attack without much thought, considering the consequences later, hence disregarding his own safety in a fight.

❀ Regardless, Seungkwan will go out in a fire of rage, taking an absurd amount of zombies with him as he goes. It is glorious and cinema worthy.

Vernon: ?/10

❀ He is a npc so he can’t die. That is definitely how that works. Vernon is simply a part of the environment, don’t mind him. The zombies don’t recognize him as someone they can eat because they somehow believe him to be a non-interactable object straight out of a game.

❀ That being said, similarly to Jun, he hasn’t been particularly blessed with amazing motoric skills. I don’t think I have ever seen Vernon properly run, I feel like rather than running he would try to out-speed walk the zombies. Do not expect him to fight, he will try the bare minimum, and even that is too much to ask.

❀ Then again, he has consumed so many films and tv shows that he does have a massive mental archive of everything that has been produced about zombies from which he can draw whenever he finds himself in a pickle. Is fiction reality? No. Is it useful regardless? Yes.

❀ Considering he is Seventeen’s other favourite child, they will try their best to keep him alive. He has them all wrapped around his finger. One little whine and they will bend over backwards to help him with whatever he needs/wants.

Dino/Chan: -1000000000/10

❀ He is trying his best. If it wasn’t for the others, he would have a decent chance at making it out alive. He is fit, motivated and confident about his own capabilities without being overconfident. On his own, he would be determined to see the apocalypse through.

❀ Pair him up with Wonwoo and nothing can get him killed. Wonwoo will keep his Dino alive even if it costs him his own life.

❀ That being said, the members would get him 1000% killed. They won’t let him breathe for a second and he has to constantly watch his back. They love him, sure, but they also think his shrieks of panic as they ‘accidentally’ lock him in a room with a zombie are hilarious.

❀ Against all of them, he truly doesn’t stand a chance. They don’t really want to get him killed but they make staying alive arguably much more difficult for him than it needs to be.

❀ At this point, he might simply give up and switch teams. He can get revenge on them by turning into a zombie, finally having the last laugh as he munches on their brains.

masterlist

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rotworld · 2 months ago

Text

14: Again and Again

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

the stray night lords who joined your eccentric warband mostly keep to themselves. their sudden interest in your new mutations and ability to recover from grievous injuries is worrisome, but as always, you'll do anything for your warband.

->warhammer 40k. original chaos space marines (night lords)/reader. explicit; contains graphic descriptions of violence, sexual violence, mild/mentioned body horror, consensual but not safe or sane, consensual non-con/non-con roleplay, mentions of slavery and general disregard for human life.

The Night Lords are absent again.

Siarotha tells you this isn’t unusual. It doesn’t matter that there’s little else to do on this nameless, empty world you share and no way to leave without the warp gate. They’ll show up when they feel like it and not a moment earlier. You wonder if it’s the venue. The manufactorum’s maze of narrow corridors and machinery-stuffed assembly rooms are claustrophobic even for you. The cavernous hall the warband favors for meetings once housed a crisscrossing labyrinth of cogitators, conveyor belts and metal walkways until Erghol did some defenestrative redecorating. The only furniture left is an enormous stone slab, roughly circular and wide enough to make a decent Astares-sized table where no one has to stand too close to each other. You worry that the space might be too open.

Dagger and Claw remind you of feral cats. They like enclosed spaces; walls at their backs, a clear view of exits and entrances. No matter how many times they threaten desertion, vanishing in the midst of raids and battles, they always seem to come slinking back. It’s the security, you think. Safety in numbers, the promise of food and a roof over their heads. They hiss and bristle but they know where shelter is.

It could also be that they haven't figured out a convenient way to steal the warband's entire cache of supplies and carry it with them, but you prefer to be optimistic.

“What we need,” Kyloteknis says, “is the support of a Forge World. Our logistics are nonexistent. Access to ground transport should be our first priority so we can stop hauling our spoils one crate at a time. Armor repair is a close second.” He needs it more than anyone, the plates and panels protecting his limbs gradually becoming a singed, dented mangling of metal. The beveled dome of his helmet swivels back and forth, scrutinizing the rest of the warband.

“Seconding,” Grigori says on his left. The star of Chaos on his shoulder pauldron has been nearly obliterated from all the hits he takes on that side, the paint scuffed and the embossed surface chipped and uneven.

“And what exactly do we have to offer them in exchange for access to their resources?” Zonaras asks dryly. He’s one of the few who forgoes his helm, comfortable enough to reveal his shaved head and small, scribbling facial tattoos.

Kyloteknis makes a rumbling sound of consideration. “They’ll want a favor. Something too dangerous for them to do themselves.”

“Likely too dangerous for us, as well.”

“A garrison, perhaps?” Siarotha suggests. He looms beside you in his full armor but he’s left his helmet off, long hair tucked over one shoulder in a loose braid. “Why incur a debt we can’t pay when we could simply repurpose a vehicle we come across?”

On your other side, Erghol grunts in agreement. “Seconding a garrison. Can’t afford any weapons breaking until we have a proper armory. Better to take whatever we can get our hands on.”

Zonaras nods. “A garrison will have maintenance personnel, as well.”

“Hm. True,” Kyloteknis says. “We could really use some slaves—”

“Serfs,” Siarotha says quickly, glancing at you nervously. Kyloteknis turns, probably glaring under his helmet at the interruption. “We could easily obtain some serfs from Kheralath. They would adjust well, I think. My warband was there not long ago and discontent towards Imperial authorities was quite high.”

“I’m not terribly concerned with how well our manual labor ‘adjusts.’”

“Maybe you should be,” you say. “Humans are most efficient when they’re happy. I’m a good example.”

“No. You are deranged. You are not a standard model for human behavior.”

“Either way,” Siarotha says firmly, “it’s within the system. Calibrating the gate would be simple.”

“Kheralath?” Zonaras asks, suddenly animated. “I’ve been there as well. Yes, they were extremely dedicated, although I’m afraid the populace won’t be of much use to us anymore.”

Siarotha’s eyes rapidly change colors like a startled chameleon. The air around him grows chilled with anger. “How many of them did you kill?”

“Let he who has never obliterated millions in the pursuit of infernal truths cast the first stone.”

“I think I’m starting to see why you didn’t want me to come,” you say.

The heavy drag of something moving over the rockcrete makes you jump. Nobody else seems surprised so you must be the last one to notice Claw sauntering closer—stormy, midnight blue, silver skulls and red wings. Red hands, too, you’ve always noticed. Strange. Dagger’s are the same blue as the rest of his armor. He’s extremely good at not making noise until he wants to be heard, which means he wants you to know he’s there.

“You sound more like bureaucrats than soldiers, bickering like that,” he drawls. He’s pacing, circling like a cautious predator looking for the weakest link in a herd. It should be hard to tell with his helmet and the unblinking red lenses of the eyes, but you’re absolutely certain that he’s looking at you. “So. A garrison. Do we even know of a garrison we can take without too much trouble?”

“We’re better off keeping this a hit-and-run operation,” Kyloteknis says. He tracks Claw’s movements around the room, unwilling to lose sight of him. “Isn’t that particular brand of cowardice your specialty? Maybe you have a suggestion.”

“Hm. Maybe.” Claw slinks closer. He passes behind Grigori, then Zonaras, slowing when he reaches Erghol just to make him snarl. “Ah. I just thought of something,” he says.

Your only warning is a crackle—a split second staticy sound as a white-hot, glowing sheath of energy engulfs his claws. Erghol and Siarotha are right next to you but they’re not fast enough. Four razor-sharp lengths of steel impale you with a burst of boiling blood, piercing your lungs and smashing through your ribs. Claw is close when he does it. You can hear the hum of his armor’s internal components, can hear the quiet chuckle just loud enough for his helmet’s vox to pick up. He withdraws his gauntlet in a sharp, vicious motion that sends you stumbling into the table, your fingers scrabbling over a puddle of your own blood and minced insides.

All hell breaks loose.

Kyloteknis shatters the table when he vaults over it, lunging for Claw who narrowly avoids a swipe from a furious, roaring Erghol. The only reason you aren’t trampled is Siarotha, swept up in his arms and away from the chaos. You see them tumbling through steel guardrails and punching through the guts of dusty, long dead machines. Zonaras makes a half-hearted attempt to break it up until Claw barrels into him racing for cover, bolterfire scouring the ground behind him.

“Surely it wouldn’t bother you if something unfortunate should befall Claw during the next raid?” Siarotha says quietly. You shake your head urgently. It hurts too much to talk. “You can’t be serious. He tried to kill you.”

No, he didn’t. He knew you would heal. That didn’t feel serious, you think. It was personal, but not like a grudge. He wanted you to know he was coming. He wanted you on guard and anticipating. And he lingered just a moment after he did it, loose and relaxed behind you. That wasn’t anger, or aggression, or a threat. So what was it? You want to figure it out but the room is spinning and your chest is aching, and you’re starting to itch all the way down to your bones.

By the time you’re finished molting, Claw has slipped away and Erghol is doing a bit of enthusiastic remodeling with the walls. Siarotha tells you the meeting has been rescheduled. You crawl out of the sticky wreckage of your old self and try to remember everything you know about domesticating strays.

It takes a few days for Dagger to appear.

It’s unusual, you think, to see them apart. As long as they’ve been here, they’ve been attached at the hip. Old friends? Lone survivors of their old warband? Mentor and newblood? You’re disappointed by how little you know about them. Everyone in the warband is tight-lipped about their previous lives but they’re opening up little by little, learning to begrudgingly trust one another. Kyloteknis has stopped hurriedly putting his helmet back on when someone finds him outside enjoying the wind on his face. Zonaras and Siarotha bicker with ever so slightly less menace in their voices. You’ve glimpsed Erghol and Grigori together with increasing frequency, training, talking, silently standing together atop an observation platform to watch the sky darken.

You’re helping reorganize Kyloteknis’ workshop. This would be ridiculous ordinarily—anyone in the warband can lift an entire table one-handed—but he wants scrap metal and spare parts from the second floor of the manufactorum and he can’t cross the rickety grate-floored walkways without shattering their rusted frames. He did not ask for help so much as he vaguely mentioned his dilemma with the same grating reluctant tone one might use to report casualty estimates. He left immediately after, claiming he would return later when you’d completed the task.

So here you are, elbow-deep in a dead cogitator’s wiring looking for the cogs and connectors Kyloteknis asked for, when you hear movement behind you. Dagger doesn’t risk stepping onto the flimsy walkway, standing on the more solid platform behind you and blocking the only way out of the room that isn’t a very long, painful drop.

“Hello, Dagger,” you greet him. He’s not holding his namesake but you see the sheath at his hip, large enough that calling it a “dagger” feels a bit absurd. He stands at an angle—not so far that the weapon is completely hidden, but far enough that you just get a peek.

“I heard you’re attending meetings now,” he says.

“Did you hear what happened at that meeting?”

“Of course. Claw told me in excruciating detail.” His voice dips into a gravelly rumble that you’re tempted to identify as teasing. Mocking, or playful? You can’t tell if you’re supposed to be in on the joke or the butt of it. He leans against the railing at the edge of the platform casually. “What are you doing over there?”

You shrug. “Scavenging. Kyloteknis wants some of this stuff.”

“Mm. You like to be useful.”

You look across the walkway at him. He looks back, you assume. Like Claw, you’ve never seen him without his skull-faced helmet. Astartes size is hard to estimate through the bulk of their armor, but you think he’s smaller than Claw if only by a little. Built to skulk in the shadows while Claw draws the enemy’s attention.

“I do,” you say.

“That’s how it was in the Eighth. The weak ones are useful for the strong ones. That’s how they survive.” He turns, staring at the wall, but you think he must be seeing something else. “We don’t have the instinct to fawn over small, defenseless things. We want to torment them. A fledgling in midnight clad is better broken by his brothers than by an enemy. We know exactly how hard to push.” You pull your hands out of the cogitator and give Dagger your full attention and he follows the movement, helmet turning slowly, curious rather than tense and alert. “I guess,” he murmurs, “it’s all we know how to do.”

There’s a dark, hungry edge to his words that sends a shiver down your spine. “Is that how it is?” you ask. You make your voice deliberately small and quiet. Weak. Just how he wants you. “You want to break me?”

Dagger doesn’t answer for a minute. The ancient metal of the manufactorum groans and creaks quietly all around you. He rests his hand on the sheath at his waist. “You’re standing too far away,” he says in that same syrupy tone. “Why don’t you come a little closer?”

Maybe Kyloteknis was right about you after all, because you start walking down the metal walkway. You don’t rush. Each step is slow and deliberate, just like how Claw circled you at the meeting. You never take your eyes away from the red lenses embedded in Dagger’s helmet and you can feel his gaze without seeing it, how it burns into your body.

“Tease,” he purrs. “So you don’t just have eyes for your rabid dog and that sorcerer. Quite a collection you’ve started. Will you seduce Kyloteknis?”

You laugh. “I’d probably have better luck with Zonaras.” You’re halfway there and your heart is pounding. This is a bad idea, isn’t it? This is definitely going to hurt. You’re not sure why you’re so excited. Maybe it’s the way Dagger’s started shifting slightly, like he can’t stand still anymore. His metal fingers close around the blade’s handle, squeezing impatiently.

“You would. Word Bearers and their needy idolatry.” He grabs you when you’re close enough. The movement is so swift you barely see it, just a passing shadow and then your forearm is caught in his crushing grip. He yanks you into him, straight onto the point of the knife you didn’t even see him unsheathe. The flesh of your throat parts around hard, serrated steel. An arterial splatter arcs as high as Dagger’s chestplate, dousing the winged skull emblazoned there in flecks of scarlet. You choke and sputter, coughing up reddened saliva.

Dagger cups your jaw with his free hand. He wants to see the light leave your eyes. Your hands rake and scratch uselessly at his armor as another thick gush of blood oozes from your open throat and splatters on your feet. Dagger hisses something you don’t catch. A word you don’t know; a language you don’t speak. His exhale is full of satisfaction.

The knife comes out in horrible jerking motions, slow and sawing, blinding pain overwhelming your senses. Dagger leans in so you hear him right next to your ear. “There’s a statue of a saint straight ahead from the west entrance,” he says. “Half-toppled. Missing an upper body. Come tonight, alone.”

He’s gone by the time you’ve made sense of the words, shriveled ribbons of flesh hanging through the grate of the walkway under you. Siarotha’s presence passes through your mind in brief glances, drawn by heightened emotion and racing thoughts.

You think of a cat. A mangy, flea-bitten thing that arches its back and puffs up its tail. Two of them, for good measure. Siarotha sees them in your mind’s eye and you sense exasperation, and amusement, and fondness. And ultimately, agreement.

You can see the saint from the manufactorum, but you hadn’t realized what it was. The figure has been cleaved nearly in two, the cut diagonal and crooked leaving jagged edges behind. It was carved from some sort of gray stone, dark-veined like marble, the surface detail still smooth and precise although it was only made yesterday. You see meticulously rendered folds of cloth, a tangle of vines and flowers frozen in eternal full bloom where the robe puddles upon a massive rectangular plinth. You wonder who it was meant to be.

Dagger never gave you a time but nightfall seems appropriate. The streetlamps don’t work but they don’t have to. The moon is a perfect silver circle, just bright enough for you to navigate the bumpy, uneven streets. Looming silhouettes of steel skeletons and decrepit stone form lattices of shadows against the starry sky. You don’t come this way often. The warband chose to settle in the region of the manufactorum where the structures are mostly intact and you rarely have time to wander the more distant ruins. It’s darker here, the trees more numerous and sprawling. You have to slow down so you don’t lose your footing, hands in front of you to feel for the edge of the statue’s base.

The shadows shift in front of you. Something moves in the dark. You hear footsteps approaching from up ahead and behind you at the same time. Not the weighty, metallic crunch of space marine armor. Normal, if heavy, footsteps. Boots on stone. “Claw?” you ask. “Dagger?”

A hand cups around your face, covering your mouth. You’re tugged against a warm body, frighteningly tall and thick with muscle. “Shhh,” he whispers. You don’t know which. A blindfold made of dark cloth is tied around your eyes and you’re dragged forward.

You struggle to tell them apart. The vox in their helmets makes the whole warband sound the same, impossibly deep and rumbling, but there are peculiarities unique to each. Grigori sounds hoarse on those rare occasions he says anything. Erghol has the abrasive, gritty voice of a chemfactory laborer, damaged by centuries of ecstatic battle cries and screaming fury. Kyloteknis has a habit of using old High Gothic terms for machinery and weaponry. Claw and Dagger have spoken to you so much less so it’s hard to tell who’s who.

“Small, sweet thing like you, out here all on your own?” one of them purrs. “Dangerous. Do you want to get hurt?”

“I think they do,” the other says. “I think they’re desperate for it.”

You walk until the ground changes, evening out to smoother stone. You’re led around turns, down a flight of steps, shoved suddenly. You catch yourself and feel softness beneath your hands. Towels. Linen. Pillows. No mattress, but so many blankets that it doesn’t matter. You have no idea where you are when the blindfold comes off, but it’s as dark as a tomb. You no longer hear the breeze or feel the chill of the night air. You’re indoors somewhere. No windows and no light.

Someone sits behind you and someone sits in front of you. Your arms are seized, held together behind your back. You hear the hiss of a blade being unsheathed.

“Do you know much about Astartes?” The words are murmured against your ear. “How it works? How they made us?”

“Not really,” you admit. “Siarotha has told me a little about being a neophyte but—ah!” You gasp when sharp, pointed steel slides down the center of your chest, splitting your clothes open with the slightest pressure. The room is cold. You’re undressed with precise cuts that whisper across your skin but never quite puncture.

“They put a lot of things into us. That means they have to take a lot out.” Whoever’s behind you leans in close, pressing himself against your back. He’s half-dressed and you can feel all the bumpy nodes and ports across his chest and arms where his armor hooks into his nervous system. “At least, that’s what they tell us. None of it’s really gone. Just twisted.”

“For the really unlucky ones, it untwists,” the other one says, chuckling. The tip of the knife drags down your chest, over your sternum, and stops at your belly. It presses just a little harder, a stinging pinch that makes a thin stream of blood trickle down your body.

“You like to be useful, right?” Teeth nip the shell of your ear and the body behind you shifts slightly. Your arms are released long enough for him to peel off the clothing on his lower half. You inhale sharply when he comes back and you feel everything, skin to skin. A monstrously large cock twitches against your lower back, already hard and leaking precum. “Then you can be useful for both of us.”

It happens at the same time. The knife sinks in—is that Dagger? It doesn’t feel like him. He wasn’t steady like this. Steady like Claw with four massive blades in your chest, the perfect control and stillness. It’s a slow, shallow stab. Holding. Teasing. You can feel him watching you shake and whimper. The other one knocks your legs apart and nudges the head of his cock against your entrance. He prods and pushes once, twice, a third much more violent time that sinks past your resisting muscles. He’s far too big and you’re not prepared, the sheets bunching up beneath your fists.

“Hold onto him,” Dagger whispers in your ear. His hands are on your hips, forcing you down and sheathing himself deeper. “He likes it. Scratch him. Try and fight.”

You hear a shaky exhale in the dark. Your hands find Claw’s shoulders—clothed. Wearing some kind of skin-tight shirt. He swallows audibly when you grab onto him tightly, digging your nails into him. He slips the knife in deeper, just a little. Another inch. Then he holds it there, and you feel his hot breath fanning across your face. Dagger rolls his hips under you and you tremble around the stinging thickness of his cock. He rewards you with a pleased sigh, squeezing and massaging your hips. He whispers in the same language you heard before and Claw answers him, sounding strained. Holding back, you think. But you want everything he can give.

“No,” you whisper. Soft. Helpless. “Don’t. Please don’t.”

Claw shudders. The knife suddenly tilts, angled up, tugging and ripping at your skin. Blood slicks his fingers and pours down your abdomen. “Beg me,” he mutters. “Beg me to stop.”

Dagger encourages you. He runs his hands over your shoulders, rubbing, teasing out knots and sore spots. You’d melt against him if you weren’t in so much pain. “Don’t do this,” you whimper. “Don’t hurt me, please. Let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I won’t—”

You choke on the words when Claw drags the knife all the way up your chest in one quick, violent movement that rips you open. Your trembling, clawing grip on his shoulders isn’t an act. A blood-slicked hand cups your cheek and your gaze is lifted, your eyes gazing into darkness. You can’t see anything more than the faintest outline of a person, but you know he sees you. You hear his breath growing faster and shakier, feel it in hot puffs against your face. Then he’s kissing you, and his hands plunge into the wound.

Dagger starts to fuck you in earnest and you can’t tell what hurts worse. The slap of his thigh, muscular thighs against your ass is humiliatingly loud in the otherwise silent room. He uses you, impales you on his length over and over. You feel raw and skinned inside by the time he brings you down fully, seated in his lap with his entire cock gripped by your tense, agonized muscles. You can feel Claw where he shouldn’t be, his touch like fire fondling the inside of your skin. He kisses furiously, nipping and biting at your lips. He pulls away to run his tongue along your cheek and moans at the taste of your tears. You hear the sickening squelch of your organs as he gropes and squeezes them.

Everything starts to sound muffled and distant. Your heart is pounding. You can feel your pulse behind your ears, a constant throbbing. And there’s the itch again all over everything, the molt coming. It makes them ravenous. Dagger grabs you around the middle and fucks you like he’s trying to kill you, hard and impossibly deep. Claw kisses your forehead. There’s blood on his lips. Blood in your mouth. Blood trickling from your open belly, and slippery, meaty organs flopping out of you to splatter wetly on the floor, and—

You wake up clean, whole and comfortable. And warm; almost too warm. Blankets are piled on top of you so heavily that you can barely move. You blink blearily, trying to get your bearings. Siarotha’s faint amusement tickles the corner of your mind. You wonder how long he’s been there. How much he saw. Heat curls through your body and phantom sensations prickle across your skin.

All of it, apparently.

“Hungry?” Claw asks.

You still can’t see anything. Is it still night? Do they cover the windows? You wonder where this place is, how they found out. Where all the blankets came from. Someone peels off several layers of bedsheets until they find your arm. Your wrist is grabbed, hand pried open. A plastic wrapper is placed in your palm.

“It’s chocolate,” Dagger says.

“Chocolate?” you echo. Intrigued, you fumble with the wrapping, trying to find a way to tear it open.

“Expensive chocolate, by the looks of it. Found it when we sacked a governor’s estate. Here.” The wrapper is plucked from your hand. You hear an abrupt ripping sound, and then something softer and warmer is set in your hand.

Your first bite is small and testing, barely a nibble. “Whoa,” you say. One of them laughs. He sounds far away. “You’re not leaving me here, are you?”

“No,” Claw says. “Don’t you want to go back?”

“You want me to walk all that way, after everything I did for you?”

“You want someone to carry you?” Dagger says dryly.

“I could stay here for a while,” you suggest. “You could, too.”

Neither of them say something for a moment. You wonder if you pushed too far, too fast. But after a while, you hear movement in the dark. The blanket nest dips on your left, and then on your right. They don’t touch you. They don’t even talk. But they sit there while you finish the chocolate bar, watching, quiet and content.

“What are you grinning about?” Dagger asks.

“Nothing,” you say. A bad lie that makes them chuckle.

You’re thinking about feral cats, of course. And how with enough persistence, and patience, and gentle touches, they will walk right up and eat out of your hand.

#rotpeach writes #goretober #warhammer 40k #this is a sequel to day 5 with all the same characters #very late start today so its getting finished pretty late

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