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nvuy · 8 months ago

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so… about that drink you ordered — boothill

summary. boothill has a pity party at a bar and notices a familiar face that he wants to smash into two.

notes. sort of requested official unofficial sequel sort of to hijacked. you can read this stand alone. not saying you should, though. teehee. this is so uninspired. i just like this concept a lot. i also just like rivals to lovers. i’m also riding on the coattails of the “boothill is largely illiterate.” whether it’s actually canon or not who knows. let me be. he’s still not released LMAOOOO.

warnings. the usual banter, little bit of threatening, but nothing major.

Boothill was at a loss. The mission was a bust, there was no response from La Mancha, and the dreamscape was beginning to grind his gears. So many loud noises, the poster signs were following him around, and this so-called SoulGlad was not as good as it was advertised to be.

This bar sucked, too. The bartender had been giving him the stink eye for the better half of an hour now. It probably wasn’t appropriate to sick him right in the face for it, break his nose, and give him a beating.

The bartender wasn’t scrawny, though. Some big bulk of meat with tired eyes, scruff and mousy brown hair. His chest looked like it was about to pop the buttons of his vest. Dude looks absolutely repressed. Probably works minimum wage.

The bartender abandons a blue inky pen and his notebook that Boothill snoops in. Nothing interesting. Just pages of tabs and tabs of people he doesn’t know, nor care about.

There’s music from the stereos in the corners, though surprisingly, considering it’s not a club—that one is next door. It’s a conjoined building. The only thing seperating the bar and the VIP private rooms of the club is a wall and a locked door. Comforting—and Boothill would have lost his mind already.

It’s also dark. Granted, it’s two in the morning, but the low lights can’t be good for normal people. Not to mention the group of women in the corner that have been hoarding the few slot machines for about thirty minutes now.

Every so often, a chime will go off, and one of them will start busting into tears.

He’s here alone. Not for any particular reason. He’s waiting for a response from somebody, and what better way to pass the time than people watch and pretend he’s not nosy.

Also he feels super important sitting at the counter of the bar.

He almost jumps at a whisper in his ear.

A reddish drink in a ribbed coupe glass is gently dropped onto the counter space beside him. There’s a cucumber slice on the rim, and it also looks like it’s been dusted with sugar.

Boothill turns his nose up. Gross.

The bartender glances at the figure who slots into the seat next to the ranger. “Can I get you something else?”

“Hard whiskey.”

Huh. His eyes snapped to the right. Very familiar. Almost unnervingly so. Just in case, he scoots himself away by an inch, sitting closer to the edge of the barstool.

The bartender blinks, unsure as he pulls a tumbler from the rack. “For you?”

A finger prods the Ranger’s cheek. “For him.”

There’s a zap from the finger, like a small electric shock. Like static charged from the friction of the weird material of the barstools.

“Thanks, Gal.”

“No amount of flirting is gonna make me clear your tab,” Gallagher warned before sliding the whiskey over to the Ranger. Boothill had barely moved, now acutely aware of his own face plastered on a wanted poster behind the bartender’s head. “Try not showin’ up here frequently. Bad for my image if I keep serving crooks.” He points to the Ranger, and then to you. “Both of you.”

The bartender then is called over by a group of women who are giggling at a booth in the corner.

Boothill was sure he was going to lean forward and scrap with you over the counter. He could already feel the terse skin of your neck in his hands.

“You followin’ me?”

“You followed me first,” you say harshly.

The ranger let out a laugh before picking up his drink. “It was only a job. If you got offended, that’s your problem.” He then holds the glass close. “You g’nna do that thing again?”

“‘Thing?’” you repeated.

There was a smug grin on your face. You rested the chin in the palm of your hand.

Oh. He was so going to throw you over the counter and smash a bottle over your head. “Y’know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. Don’t play stupid.”

You took a sip of your drink.

“Boop.”

Your finger pressed to his chest. You snickered when he stared down at the brief flashing of yellow beneath his joints.

Then, you flit your finger upwards and flick his nose.

He grabs your hand with the intent of pulling it from its socket.

“Now, that’s a dangerous game to play,” you remind him. “I’ve got you in my hands, remember?” Your free hand lets go of your glass, and there’s a small flash of yellow light on the pads of the gloves on your hands. A flicker is all it takes to showcase his entire makeup in your palm. You spin it slowly for good measure.

Then, the image disappears and you snatch your wrist from his hand.

“What do you want?” Boothill mutters. He’s absentmindedly staring into his drink while swishing it around. The ice cubes softly tap against the glass.

“Insight. You’re a Galaxy Ranger, right?” He can’t lie to you anyway. You pretty much know everything about him. Your main profession is definitely stalking and being a thorn in his side. Your fingers held his chin up softly. “Tell me about it.”

He blinks, dazed. “That’s it?”

“No.”

He removes your hand from his chin. He holds his glass protectively. “Then quit pullin’ my leg. Cut to the good bit.”

You sigh. “You’re no fun. Do you come to bars just to mope?” You pull a dramatic frown for good measure.

“Do you come to bars to piss everyone off?” he shoots back. Despite his tone, his fingers are gentle around the glass. Any more firm a hold, and the drink would shatter and spill all over the counter.

You grin.

You tap his nose again. “Just you.” Then, you shake your head. “I’m here ‘cause I got a bar crush.” You then point to a table behind Boothill’s head in the corner. “Blondie with the nice eyes and the rings.”

After a moment's hesitation, the ranger turns and follows your finger.

Sure enough, you’re not convincing him to spin around so you can shove your hand into his sockets. There is a blond man at a table dressed in green, winking at an opponent over a game of… poker? Is that poker? The game with the chips and stuff. And dice, too. They’re thrown over a board, and there’s a couple of people who have tuned in to watch the entire thing unfold.

“His name is Aventurine. Or, that’s a code name, I think. He’s Sigonian. Works for the IPC, incredibly insecure, has a gambling addiction, needs to eat lead…” You stopped short, counting on your fingers as Boothill turns back to you. “Isn’t he dreamy?”

Boothill narrows his eyes at you. “Do you know everything about everyone?”

You shrug. “Pretty much, yeah.” Then, you make a noise. “Eh, I’m lying. Lots of people are boring. I only know the basics ‘bout most of ‘em. It’s the higher ups I’m interested in. Case in point–” You gestured to the blond man again, now scanning over his cards. “–Mister Big Shot. And all his loser coworkers. I don’t like the IPC.”

Boothill quietly sips his drink.

At least you can both agree on something.

He wants to yawn. He doesn’t have the function to do that anymore.

You talk too much.

He cuts you off, and fiddles with a few buttons on his arm. “What can you tell me–” A small image of a woman projects into view from a small lens near his wrist. “–About her?”

You lean closer to the image. Pretty.

She has lovely purple hair and eyes to match. It’s an unassuming photo. She’s not even looking at the camera, not even close to it. She’s standing next to a little boy with sparkling eyes and a uniform that starkly resembles the hotel staff in the waking world of Penacony—oh, the bellboy. You forgot his name.

You hum. “What’s her name?”

“Acheron.” He spits it nastily, as if tasting vitriol on his tongue.

You lean back against the counter. “I’d have to dig deeper. Can’t say I’ve seen her around before.”

“Well, that’s disappointin’,” he huffs before the image shrinks and disappears back into the lens. “Thought you were better than that.”

Your brows knit together.

“Are you trying to rile me up?” It was working. Curse you and your hot-head. It would get you killed one day.

Boothill grins.

Then, he raises his glass to you. “Yep.”

You wanted to pull him apart right there, like a doll.

Instead, you whisper, “tell me about La Mancha.”

Boothill casually sips the whiskey. “What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll dig up whatever I can find about that Acheron girl.”

Boothill then lets out a small giggle. “I already know who she is.” He wasn’t lying either. You could tell by how he grinned. “I was testin’ ya.”

Oh, great. He’s figured you out again. Not that there’s much to decode beneath the layer of self-doubt and hostility.

You could feel your face burning.

He grabs your cheeks before you can turn away.

“You ain’t here ‘cause you got some ‘puppy crush,’” he accused playfully, squishing your skin like it’s clay. “You already told me ya know everything about blondie. Who’re you really here for?”

He’s not stupid.

He’s also twirling a lock of his hair around his finger.

God damnit.

Your fingers curled tightly around the rim of your glass. The cucumber slice has since fallen into the cosmopolitan, and it’s giving the entire drink a strange watery taste.

The bar carries on. There’s a hoot from the table with blondie, who’s now, since the last time you stared daggers into the side of his head, collected some more of his poor opponent’s chips.

You pull your face from his grip. “Nobody.”

“Not even me?” Boothill presses. “You seem to love followin’ me around. In and out the dreamscape.”

You grit your teeth.

“The bartender,” you mutter finally. “I’m here for the bartender.” Currently, Gallagher is half asleep on the other side of the counter, trying to negotiate with some drunkard over the pricing of a scotch.

You eye him warily for a moment.

“There it is.” He pats your head like a dog. “Knew you’d come ‘round, pumpkin.”

You’re trembling with rage. “Kiss my ass, you cyborg scum.” You were considering throwing a punch at his perfect face.

“Rude.” Boothill flicks your nose back and you grunt. “I’m tryin’ to be nice wit’ you. You followed me here.”

You wanted to leave now. He sucks when he knows he has the upper hand, even if he’s well aware you can make his arms tear his own head off.

But you’re not going to do that. You need him. You made that clear.

The sound of a slot machine goes off somewhere to the right. There's cheering from a bunch of women.

You turn back and stare at the wall of liquor behind the bar. Maybe you should just knock yourself out. Whether by downing an entire bottle of bourbon or smashing it over your head. It was a hard choice to make.

You watch him through your peripherals, noticing he’s pinched a napkin from the pile on the counter.

“Lookin’ very pretty tonight, by the way. Hard to keep my eyes off ya.” He was writing something down with the pen from before. “If you were anyone else, I woulda had to take ya home. ‘Specially after ya bought me a drink.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” Then, you pause. “Excuse me?”

Boothill folds the napkin into a square and holds it to your lips. “Open.”

“You are not–”

Too late. He’s pushed it to your teeth, and you instinctively clamp down on it.

Oh, this sucks. This sucks bad.

He knows it, too, from the way he’s grinning at you like a shark and snickering.

He presses his warm lips to your cheek. The scent of whiskey faintly wafts in the air.

You stupidly freeze, hands curled around his wrists when his cold hands tilt your head so the tip of his tongue can press to the corner of your lips. You could stop him. You could.

You didn’t.

You smell like strawberry, the same as that other night. You look just as good, too. Shame you haven’t put anything on your lips. He would’ve loved to be stained a nice pink again.

He slides his whiskey next to you.

Then, he finishes what’s left of your drink. Dickhead. “I’ll be ‘round if ya need me.” He taps your nose and stands up. “You know where to find me.”

With a tilt of his hat, he leaves.

You pull the napkin from your teeth. Are you serious?

Face burning with humiliation, you hastily unfold the tissue, fingers shaking around the glass of whiskey. It’s heavy on your tongue; disgusting, bitter, everything you’d use to describe that stupid cowboy and his abomination of a body.

Scrawled in blue ink is a line of numbers. It looked suspiciously like a phone number.

Below it in blocky letters are the words: Keep In touc H. ♡

There’s a crudely drawn horse with a hat in the corner.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #boothill x reader #boothill #hsr x you #✦ ( the macrocosmos. )

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clockwayswrites · 1 year ago

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City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 4

WC 1123 Masterpost CW allusions to past torture, dehumanization, anxiety

“Looks worse in person, doesn’t he?”

Dick was jolted out of his thoughts as Jason spoke. He gave little nod, but didn’t look away from the kid asleep on the bed. Seeing the photos were bad enough, but Jason was right, he looked worse in person. It was distressingly clear all that he’d gone through between the fainter marks that the flash of the camera had washed out and the way the kid’s bone’s were clearly outlined under paper thin skin.

“It’s wild seeing someone who looks so much like B looking so fragile,” Jason continued in a low rumble. “Like, none of us think the old man can do everything anymore, we’re all beyond that childish notion, but doesn’t mean that B still doesn’t seem larger than life. To see a kid with his features look like that…”

“It’s going to be okay, little wing,” Dick assured hi. “We’ll look out for him now.”

Jason snorted. “Always the optimist.”

“Nope,” Dick said, shaking his head. “I’m just pretty sure that anyone who comes for him, you and little Red will put in the ground.”

Dick could see Jason start out of the corner of his eye at that, but didn’t pay it any mind. Instead, Dick finally entered the room instead of just lingering in the doorway like a creep.

“What’s the plan, baby bird?”

Tim stopped twirling the screwdriver in his fingers (a nervous habit) and glanced Dick’s way. “I want to fit a piece of insulating rubber between the collar and his skin. I should be able to get it off without zapping him, but they didn’t… I’m pretty sure they didn’t intend it to ever come off, or at least not cleanly.”

“So rubber as a back up, makes sense. What’s the catch?”

“Well, like Duke said, we don’t know what will happen when we remove it,” Tim answered, “and I’m pretty sure he won’t stay asleep for it. He stirred some when I was checking it over earlier. I want the collar off him but…”

“Pretty sure that’s more important than rest,” Jason said. “He’s got as long as he needs to rest after. Besides, gives us a chance to get some fluids and food in him.”

“Okay, you wake him up then,” Tim said, tone edging into snippy. The baby bird really was stressed by this.

“Now hold on,” Jason started back.

Dick just rolled his eyes and squatted by the edge of the bed. Gently, he rested a hand on the kid’s shoulder. He rubbed a slow circle with his thumb. “Hey there. Can you wake up for a little bit? We want to get you more comfortable.”

The kid gave a sleepy snuffle and turned his head, nuzzling his cheek against Dick’s hand for a moment. Dick could feel when the kid actually woke up by how rigid he went.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, remember? You ran into Red Hood and Red Robin. They brought you to a safe house. I’m Nightwing, but they’re both still here.

“Hey Kid,” Jason said, his voice distinct behind the modulation.

Green eyes fluttered open and darted quickly around the room. The Kid was too young to have to catalog all the exits and makeshift weapons, but that’s exactly what he was doing. Dick slowly removed his hand and rested it, palm up, on his knee. The kid seemed to chase the touch for a moment before he went the other way and pushed himself to sit up back into the corner where the bed med the wall.

“Sorry,” he croaked out.

Dick nudged the sealed water bottle on the side table a little closer to him. The kid took a moment to look from it to Dick and the others in the room before he reached out very slowly to take it. Dick was sure the kid thought they were going to take it away by how quickly he snatched it back once his fingers were on it, but none of them commented on it. None of the commented on the way he checked the seal either before he broke it and chugged half the bottle.

“Maybe go slow with the rest of that bottle, but keep drinking it. We’d like you to eat too. If you’re not comfortable eating something we—”

Jay cleared his throat and Nightwing rolled his eyes behind his white out lenses. “That Red Hood cooks, we have MREs and bars that are sealed.”

“We can also cover your stitches so that you can take a shower,” Jason said, “but only after you eat. Don’t need you falling over in the shower.”

“And before you eat,” Tim chimed in, “we want to get that collar off.”

The water bottle crinkled loudly in the kid’s hands. He started, dropping it on the mattress then scrambled to pick it up.

“Shit, sorry, I’m…”

“It’s just water, Kid,” Jason said. “It will clean up fine.”

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” Dick asked, voice soft. He tapped out a rhythm on the bed frame with his blue stripped fingers.

The kid took a shuddering breath and then another. Jason left the room as the kid breathed, coming back with another bottle of water and an orange juice to set on the side table.

“There you go,” Dick soothed. “I’m going to talk about it, is that okay?”

The kid gave a jerky nod.

“Do you want the collar off?”

The kid nodded again. “Yes.”

“Is it going to harm you if we take it off? One of us Bats is a meta too. He said there could be a backlash of power.”

“I can control it,” he whispered. The words were barely audible over the nearly bottle that he was twisting in his hands. “But the collar… if you… it, um, shocks.”

“We know,” Tim said. “But I know how to take it off. We’ll put rubber between your skin and it too, so even if I tries you won’t feel it.”

The kid’s eyes seemed to flash brighter as he looked up at Tim. “You can? I tried to but I didn’t have… I couldn’t find the tools. All I could do is kill the tracker. It zapped me out for a day. I was so sure that… right, yeah, please, I want it off. You all… you’d do that?”

“Of course,” Dick said.

The green shifted to him. “But you don’t even know what I can do.”

“We know you’re a kid with a collar around your neck that hurts you. That’s enough for us,” Jason said.

The kid looked between all of them before he slumped forward. Dick gently plucked the water bottle from his limp fingers.

“Please,” the kid said. “Please.”

--- AN: Y'all, darlings, I am... so tired I didn't have it in me to read this over before posting so I'm sure there are double words and wrong words. Be kind to my soul. It was a very busy day with a lot of important things and fatigue is kicking my ass. But before anyone worse, I wanted to write this and I'm happier having gotten some writing done!

Still, I hope you like this part! We got Dick POV this time! Stay delightful, my darlings.

I no longer tag, you can subscribe to the post here.

#dp x dc #batpham #city pigeons #trauma tuesday

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solbaby7 · 3 months ago

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Hi! Could I have a piña colada with a salt rim? And make it neat please 🫶

[“are you crazy we’re in public” “then you’d best be quiet” + smut + azriel ]

Shame on you for being foolish enough to feed a starving animal.

For looking past his threatening exterior, greeting him with kindness and coaxing him closer instead of shooing him away like you were supposed to do with rabid animals. Not offering him the warmth of a home and a bleeding heart with endless love to give. How ignorant of you to assume that offering up warm meals or sweet desserts and soft sheets with fluffy would ever be enough.

Not when the only prize to Azriel—was you.

That greed shows when you’re led along the sidewalk, nudged down an alleyway and pressed up against a brick wall swathed in inky shadows. “Az,” You address him breathlessly, heart instinctively hammering just a little harder in your chest as you register the intimidating loom of his stature. “Baby, what are you doing?”

He nearly laughs, letting free a low rumble of a chuckle that has his wings rustling gently at your sides. “What’s it feel like I’m doing?”

You feel as if you’re melting like ice on a sweltering summer day under his borderline obsessive attention. His touch is possessive against your jaw, tilting your neck to make more room for the claiming kisses that trail down, down, down. It’s impossible not to give into it—to lean into the pressure of his mouth on your skin, his teeth nipping at sensitive flesh and his hands.

Gods, his hands.

All searching and filled with a ravenous need as they graze over the thin fabrics of your dress, tracing over familiar curves until desire overrides rational thought and that soft material is all but disintegrated in his grasp. It takes a second too long to notice that the cool breeze is cutting against bare breasts and by time you do realize, Azriel’s already pinching at perky nipples, sucking marks into supple fat and robbing you of a clear conscious as pleasure zaps up your spine. “Are you crazy?” You weakly scold, arching into his touch when wandering fingers graze scandalously lower. Low enough to slip past the protective barrier of flimsy undergarments. “We are in public—someone could see.”

The very mention of it makes his mouth curl into a wolffish grin; makes him cruel as he runs a thumb through your slit, collecting slick and spreading you open with two deft fingers. “Then you’d best be quiet then, hm?”

“A-Azriel.” You attempt to close your legs but obedient shadows keep you how he wants you; all presenting and pliant before him. “Wait—fuck!” The helpless yelp is silenced by the pressure of his thumb on your clit, rubbing devastating circles that leave your thighs shaking and stomach contracting as you clench around nothing. Rough brick digs into soft skin, catching on silky hair when he’s forced to lean forward to plant a kiss that dampens your desperate whines down to breathy whimpers.

It’s a little messy, teetering the edge of frantic with his teeth nipping at your lips. Tongue tracing over the roof of your mouth while skilled hands fall in sync with the desperate roll of your hips as you chase your high. His cock throbs at the trust you put in him—completely exposed and yet you don’t even acknowledge it when chatting ladies and tipsy gentlemen stumble just a little too close by. If anything, he swears it makes you grind down just a bit harder. Manicured nails rake over the broad line of his shoulders, one leg hooking over his waist for better stability. “More,” You keen, cheeks burning with a blush at the lust in your syllables—the downright indecent sound of your arousal fucking singing against his fingers.

It’s wrong. Improper. Unladylike. Undoubtedly more than a little grimy and yet you’ve never been more turned on. It practically leeks out of you, dripping down the same scarred fingers that keep switching between rubbing and teasingly tapping at the sensitive bundle of nerves between supple thighs. “How quickly your tune changes when I’m touching your pussy,” Azriel muses, tone going dark and misty while his ego inflates fifty times too large from the way he leaves your chest heaving and eyes rolling in the back of your head without even need to pull his cock free from his breeches. “Thought you were worried about someone hearing?”

“I was—I am!” You really really try to hold out, to listen to the very reasonable fears you’d had about being caught but when he makes you feel so good it’s difficult to find the room to give a fuck if some random stranger saw the High Lords shadowsinger guiding you to your orgasm. “Fuck! ‘m gonna—mmph.” A hand smacks over your mouth, teeth biting into the flesh of your palm.

“There you go, sweet thing.” Pleasure simmers on a pot in your gut, its contents boiling and bubbling; fighting the constraints of its confinements until everything spills over. “Feels much better when you just let go, doesn’t it?”

Shame on you for being foolish enough to feed a starving animal—now all it knows how to do is take.

“Don’t fuss,” Azriel commands, the hard length of him finally freed from its confines and throbbing with the desire to carve a space inside you, branding your walls with his name. “Just want one more.”

#acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar x you #acotar azriel #blurb bar #send requests #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel blurb #obsessed with the quick fics #loving this dark!az vibe #stay drooling over an angsty emo boy who loves knives and talk to shadows #don’t really like coconut but a pina colado sounds good now 🥵

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the-muppet-joker · 6 months ago

Note

could you elaborate on your choices for the 4 horsemen for the ponies? i’m deeply curious about your wisdom and insight

Very well.

Famine = Luna

Both are black horses

When Nightmare Moon takes over, there is no sun. Crops cannot grow under these conditions. Her reign is a reign of famine and no harvest.

Additionally, in the episode Cutie Re-Mark, it is shown that under Nightmare Moon's domain, Timberwolves roam free. While they are not directly tied to famine, they have symbolism regarding Harvest as they are known to howl at the first zap apple and attack those who try to harvest them if they are nearby, hindering people's ability to gather fruit.

War = Cadance

Naturally, a pony red with the blood of those slain in war is generally not marketable to little girls, who are unfamiliar with bloodlust and afraid of violence. They settled for a close second: pink.

She is the princess of love. Are you familiar with the phrase "all is fair in love and war?" Wars are acts of passion and bloodshed. Passion? Blood? Both symbolically related to the Heart. And what is her cutie mark as well as the sacred object that gives power to her kingdom? The Crystal Heart.

The Crystal Kingdom, Cadance's kingdom, is frequently under threat of was throughout the series. Queen Crysalis and the Changelings. Sombra. Again, in the episode Cutie Re-Mark, we see a timeline im which Sombra had won. And what is the state of Equestria? A mirror fucking image of how other countries in real life are affected by war. We literally have soldiers Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash and we see Apple Jack working tirelessly to ship out apple mush to feed soldiers for the war effort. This parallel is so clear and frankly I could go on.

Conquest = Celestia

Yes I know the image says strife. I wanted the pictures to be in a consistant style and they used the word strife but it says conquest in the Bible. Anyways, they are both white horses.

I mean. Do I need to spell it out? Celestia is an imperialist. She spreads her and her nation's influence and ideology as far as she is able. Cadance is installed as the leader of the Crystal Empire under her direction. They have conflict with the changelings, so they promote a leader more sympathetic to their nation. The school of friendship? Teaching other species the way to act and behave? Are non-ponies unfamiliar with friendship? Propoganda. And she is the Princess of the Sun. THE SUN. NEVER. SETS. ON. EQUESTRIA'S. EMPIRE. Sound familiar?

Do not make an enemy of Celestia or you will be punished and then brainwashed into submission. Luna? The moon. Discord? Stone. Sombra? Tirek? The list goes on. Again, I feel this is a clear parallel that needs little explanation.

Death = Twilight Sparkle

Indeed this is the most subtle connection. After all, she is not even close to the right color. She is purple! No relation to death whatsoever........ right? WRONG. In the Catholic faith, the calandar is divided into different seasons with associated colors. Purple is the color of death and mourning; priests will exclusively wear purple robes for mass during Lent to symbolize Christ's suffering and death on the cross.

Twilight has a very important role as she and her friends are the bearers of the elements of harmony, with Twilight in the lead. The power of this clearly escalates throughout the series, as the mane six progress from turning Discord to stone to completely destroying Sombra after he is initially resurrected. We watch them become a force that could take away anyone's life force, Twilight especially. And let's not forget the form the elements later take. The tree of harmony. Reminiscent of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, from which humanity committed its first sin and thus were kicked out of Eden, gaining the ability to die.

Twilight will outlive all of her friends. As an allicorn, she is immortal. We see in the last episode that she is in her prime while all of her friends are elderly. How can one be a Princess of Friendship if she sees all her friends to the ends of their lives like a benevolent Reaper? After so many years of standing at the deathbeds of loved ones, she will feel detatched from others. A Princess of Death.

And yes Flurryheart is the fifth Princess but she is a clear allagory for the Antichrist so I did not include her

#my little pony #anti my little pony #catholic musings #catholicism

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littlemissaddict · 5 months ago

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I Don't Like You - Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

This was based on a dream I had about Sam and Torrez teasing for being jealous over Bucky having a 'girlfriend' and they way of proving that I don't is a staring contest and after that I got as little carried away which you can see by the word count.

Word count: 4553 Warnings: Angst, jealousy, mentions of blood (nothing descriptive), not edited I think that's it but please let me know of anything else.

“You know I can’t make eye contact” she glares at Sam, unintentionally making eye contact with him where he sits across the table from her.

“You seem to be doing just fine now” he retorts with a smug grin on his face.

“Yeah well it’s easy to do with people I don’t like” she responds, trying not to let herself give in and laugh at his dramatics as he clutches a hand to his chest as he pitifully asks, ‘you don’t like me?’ Instead she settles on a roll of her eyes as she responds, “Not at the minute no”

“Should be easy for you then seeing as you ‘don’t like him” Torrez chimes in quoting her from just moments ago when they accused her of liking Bucky and being jealous that he has a girlfriend and their way of proving it, for her to hold eye contact with him for more than thirty seconds.

“I don’t and you two are just being childish” she huffs, knowing that there is no way she is getting out of it without doing as they ask and revealing her secret feelings for Bucky.

“We wouldn’t have to be like this if you’d just admit the crush you're harbouring on our resident super soldier” Sam pushes again.

“Resident super soldier? I thought that was Steve” she deflects, it’s a low blow to them all but she’s had enough.

“Don’t be a smart ass” Sam responds, all the light hearted foolery gone from moments before.

She sighs, giving in, “Fine let’s just get this over with” as she turns in her seat to face Bucky who has not said a word this entire time which seemed a little strange but then again it wasn’t as if said much anyway. Settling back into her seat as she still tries to feign control over the situation that has rapidly spiralled out of her control, she waits for Bucky to signal he's ready and then Sam's counting them in.

With one final sigh she gives in and meets Bucky's eyes and as cliche as it sounds she can feel herself getting lost in the blue of them as the noise of the cafeteria seems muffled, even forgetting about Sam and Torrez watching the two of them intently. This is dangerous, she needs to pull away but then that would only confirm what they already know so she forces herself to hang in there until she's in the clear but then they breeze right through it. Neither she nor Bucky seem to hear Sam's countdown, nor when Torrez tells them they're done, it's only when Sam sticks a hand between them and interrupts their line of sight do they finally snap out of it.

She doesn't know if it's just her imagination but Bucky seems just as dazed as her as they blink the world back into focus, the noise around them resuming its original volume. “See I told you I didn't like him” she stutters out, her voice breaking as she rounds on their audience.

“No, no, nope you have just confirmed that you do if anything” Sam corrected her.

“No the bet was that I could hold eye contact if I didn't like him, I think you've had too many hits to the head and it's making you confused” she says through gritted teeth.

“Yeah but do you not feel the electricity between the two of you, I can feel it on the other side of the table” Torrez chimes in, drawing her attention from a smirking Sam, “Yeah, I uh think if I get any closer I'm literally going to get zapped” he adds with a laugh which Sam joins in on.

“You know what I don't need this” she huffs, flustered and embarrassed, avoiding looking at Bucky as she pushes her chair back and storms away from the table, ignoring the calls of her name from Sam.

In fact she avoids them for the next few days, which is a challenge since she's with them on missions but she disappears as soon as she gets the chance, not hanging around them for any longer than she has to. Until she has no choice.

“Okay intel says our target is going to be here tonight” Torrez reveals, sliding two invites across the table towards where she and Bucky stood. She didn't even need to look down at them to know it'd been some fancy party that would require them to dress the part, she'd read enough of the packet they'd been given on him to know it'd be his type of thing.

“Your job is to..”

“Let me guess we're going in undercover with some made up alias that you've managed to convince our target need to attend” she spoke, interrupting Torrez who was only trying to do his job and deliver the brief of the mission to them but the air between them was as tense now as it had been when she walked out on them last week.

“Yes and no, I'm not involved in this one” Sam reveals, his voice sounding strained as he adds, “You and Bucky are, you'll be undercover as a married couple interested in joining their enterprise”

“Married couple?” She choked out, he really had to be joking, “Surely you could have come up with something else” she added, directly her glare towards Torrez now as if she was blaming him for it.

Sam shook his head, “Our target has a certain special interest in the ladies, we need you to play into it” he explained.

“And him?” She asked, gesturing to Bucky at her side.

“He's needed because believe it or not he's more intimidating than either of us two” Sam replies motioning between himself and Torrez, “Plus he has the super soldier serum running through his veins and a metal arm, if it does go down hill you're gonna need him” he adds as if it's an afterthought but them he's sees the look on her face and knows exactly what she's going to try and argue. “He's more subtle than the wings and we can't sneak in any guns as there's a metal detector on the way in”

“Metal detector? He's got a fucking vibranium arm, how are you going to sneak that in?” She asks in disbelief and yeah she might be taking this too far but she's too far gone to even try and rein it back in.

“He's part of an experimental trial offering upgraded prosthetics to war veterans” Torrez states and finally she had no comeback as they really had thought of everything.

Her shoulders sagged, the fight went out of her as she realised that there was no way out of this, she was going to have to play nice with Bucky. “How much time do we have?” She asks.

“You'll be leaving in just under two hours” Sam confirms as he motions for Torrez to grab the bags hung on the wall opposite them, “Your outfits, you better hurry”

She stands in front of the full length mirror in the makeshift dressing room admiring the black floor length dress she'd been given. The high neckline that dropped into a deep v at the bottom of her back and the thigh high split on the right side of the dress, it had certainly been picked with care as it was sure to draw their targets attention.

And it seems Sam, Torrez and Bucky's as she met them back in the main room where Torrez had set up his surveillance equipment, ready to be their eyes and ears on the ground. Bucky moved to say something as she came to a stop in front of him, warmth flooding through her under his gaze. “Don't, let's just get this over with” she tells him, instead accepting the arm he offers her as they head out to the waiting car.

Bucky adjusts his tie as the car begins to drive, face scrunched up in discomfort as he fiddles with it. “Hey, here let me help?” She offers, sliding closer to him before he can even reply as she's seriously concerned he's going to manage to strangle himself with it from the way he's tugging on it. She reaches her hands up, sliding under the stark white collar to check the tie is not twisted before loosening the knot that rests at the base of his neck. “Better?” She asks after straightening the length of the tie and pulling her hands away from him, aware of his heavy gaze that had been on her since she slid across the leather seat to help him.

“Don't think it was wrong, just makes me feel claustrophobic wearing it” he grumbles slouching back into the seat.

“Then don't wear it” she suggests, they may be playing different parts tonight but if he can't learn to live with it then it has to go. They can't risk their target seeing through their façade just because Bucky can't cope with a tie, “dump it and undo the top few buttons, it looks hotter like that anyway” she shrugs casually as if she hadn't just hinted to Bucky that she found him hot.

He looks down at her contemplating her words and she thinks that he may just deal with it as he's dealt with worse things than a tie in his years but then his hands come up to the tie. “‘Happy wife, happy life’ that's what they say nowadays, right?” He asks as the tie falls from his neck and he focuses on undoing the top few buttons as she instructed.

“Yeah, guess so,” she replies, “doesn’t really apply to us though” she adds, feeling the need to remind him that they aren’t together so he can do what he pleases; it has nothing to do with her as long as it doesn’t compromise the mission.

They breeze through security checks, clearly having gotten Torrez’s memo about the ‘prosthetic’ and then they’re joining the party. She guides Bucky along to the bar where she flashes the server a wide smile. “I’ll have a gin and tonic and your finest whiskey please” she tells him with a wink as she hears Bucky grumble beside her.

“Do you really think now's the best time for a drink”

She smiles playfully up at him, batting her lashes as she pushes up on her toes so that she can lean into whisper into his ear. To anyone around the pair it would look like an intimate moment between lovers but really it’s just a ploy so that she can talk to him without anyone listening in, other than Sam and Torrez that is. “We need to play the part, blend in but I can get you a water if you’d prefer” she explains before pulling away, glad that he’s managed to hide his surprise at her sudden closeness.

The barman interrupts their little moment, setting the drinks down on the counter in front of them and their total. She bats her eyes yet again at Bucky who simply rolls his eyes and reaches into his pocket for his wallet to pay as she reaches for her drink and takes a sip as he hands the money over. Honestly she'd feel bad having him pay if she didn't know that he'd be compensated for it once the mission was completed, besides it wasn’t her fault she had nowhere to keep any money in the dress that had been chosen for her.

“Now what?” Bucky asks and she thinks it's mainly because she took charge to begin with that he thinks she has some idea of how the night will play out.

“We wait” she states, taking another sip of her drink as she scans the room for any sign of their target yet she finds none.

Time draws on and one drink turns into another, another that she tries to nurse for as long as she can without seeming suspicious as she can't afford to lose her head. She is slightly jealous of Bucky's tolerance to alcohol but then again he does have the advantage of the super soldier serum course through his veins but she can tell he's just as on edge as she is. They've been waiting too long with no sign of the man they came here for, in fact she was just about to suggest they call it when a woman approached them.

She felt Bucky tense beside her, his automatic instincts to protect kicking in as he slid an arm around her waist which seemed to settle him for the moment. The unnamed woman addresses them, well their aliases, and informs them that she had been sent by their target and if they'd like to follow her.

Both she and Bucky felt something was off and she could only hope that Sam would be ready with back up if they needed it. Following her through the crowd towards a door at the back of the hall they were in, she led them through a maze of hallways that she struggled to keep track of until they were led into a room where stood the man they had come here for.

“Ah come in, come in” he greeted the two of them, gesturing for them to take a seat on the plush chairs in front of him. “We have lots to discuss” he beamed, nodding to the woman they still didn't know the name of as she took her exit of the room and shut the door behind her. It did nothing to ease the tension both her and Bucky felt but they were trapped with nowhere to run. “Sorry for all the secrecy tonight but as you can well imagine our work is only known to a select few so it did come as a surprise to be sought out directly” he explained turning his attention back to him.

“Yes but you were highly recommended” she spoke, hoping to clear up any suspicions he may have as she forced her body to relax into the seat.

“So you said in your enquiry” he stated as he perched on the edge of the desk in front of her with barely a glance in Buckys direction but that was to be expected. “Though I don't understand how you came to find out about our operations here” he asked, leaning forward towards her.

She repeated the name of the guy they had busted that had identified him as the head of operations and that to pull the plug on it all they would need to take him out. “We were looking to expand our opportunities and he said that you may be able to help” she answered, laying it on thick that they needed his help in hopes of appealing to his ego.

“I could but you see there is one slight problem I have, you've come to me right after his arrest, now pardon me for the accusation but as you can well understand the last thing I need is the authorities butting their nose into things” he stated, a knowing look being thrown their way. “So as a protocol I did some digging into you two only to find nothing, so now you see that was your first mistake” he smirked, pushing from the table in favour of pacing in front of them as if he hadn't just revealed that he knew that their intentions were false. “Now imagine my surprise when I found out that the former Winter Soldier and a government agent wanted to meet with me, most would have declined but not me, I have a proposal for you both” he reveals, speaking to the both of them but his eyes never leave her as he comes to a stop in front of her.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Bucky tense as he gets closer to her, ready to make a move if he even thinks about harming her but instead he reaches out a hand to cup her chin, forcing her to look at him. She rolls her eyes at how predictable his words were, “Why would we want to work for you?” She replies, her words laced with venom as she tries to pull her face from his hold.

He releases her face without complaint, “Well there’s the perks of the sale, being in charge of your own operations and,” he smirks, leaning in closer so that his mouth was by her ear, “for you sweet thing, we could work out a little something extra” he whispers before moving back to her face.

She grimaces at his words, watching as he leans into her, head angled in preparation to kiss her but she doesn’t let him get that far. She spits in his face, feeling a sense of relief as he pulls away, unable to hide his disgust as he wipes his face with the back of his hand. Though the look doesn’t last that long as his smirk returns, “Feisty, now I can see why the soldier likes you so much” he says finally turning his attention away from her and back to Bucky as if he’s just remembered he’s still in the room. When she follows his gaze, Bucky’s hands are gripping the armrest of the chair so hard that she’s surprised it’s not broken and his eyes are set hard against the man in front of them in a way she can only describe as a look to kill.

“Now of course you can say no but I’m afraid that won’t end well for either of you” he adds, almost as if it’s an afterthought as he moves away from the two of them to sit back against the desk.

Bucky speaks for the first time since they entered the room, “What makes you think it’ll end badly for us, like you said I’m the former Winter Soldier I’ve gotten out of worse than this”

The man in front of them chuckles, “Oh I’m sure you have but there’s one major difference this time you didn’t have your little girlfriend with you”

She see’s Bucky’s jaw tighten yet he doesn’t argue his words, “No but we do have back up” he counters which doesn’t even seem to phase their target.

“Oh right” he smiles, tapping his ear as he hints towards their in-ears and their contact with Sam and Torrez but now she thinks about it the two of them have been surprisingly quiet all evening. “That was your second mistake, once you entered the building they ceased to work, protocol you see” he simply shrugged.

The malfunction certainly didn’t go amiss with Sam and Torrez over in their makeshift control room, “When was the last time we heard from them?” Sam urged, one hand on the back of Torrezs' chair and the other on the table he sat at.

“Just before they entered, they must have some kind of communications blocker but we still have visual at least” he answered, bringing up on the screen the image of her and Bucky at the bar. “Doesn’t like him my ass, look at the two of them” he snickered watching her push up onto her toes to talk into Bucky’s ear, “and look at him, didn’t you say he had a girlfriend?” Torrez looks confused as he rounds on Sam.

Sam sighs, “Just a wind up to push them together but we’ve got more important things to worry about now, like whoever this is” he reminds Torrez as he points to the woman approaching the pair on screen. “Can you follow them?” Sam asks as Torrez nods, his fingers moving against the keyboard as he switches between the cameras to follow them to wherever they are being led.

He follows them through the maze of corridors, only losing sight of them when they enter the room at the end of the corridor and they can only watch helplessly when the woman leaves the room again without them. “Can you figure out where in the building they are?” Sam questions, moving around behind him.

“Why? You going in?” Torrez questions, trying to figure out how Sam could possibly sneak past the beefed up security.

“No, I’m sending in Red Wing” he replies, already having Red Wing ready and waiting for instructions. With no more questions to ask Torrez gets to work finding their location in the building within minutes and sending it to Sam.

It takes longer than Sam would like for Red Wing to find the window into the room where he can see her and Bucky seated in front of their target who has his back to the window, thankfully. It also seems that she and Bucky miss his presence as well which works out better for him by giving him the element of surprise but more importantly he can hear what's being said in the room.

“Now if you’ve made your decision because I have a party to get too”

Sam sees him move his hand to press a button, to what he assumes is connected to his goons to let them know to come in, not that Sam was willing to take that chance. Without a second thought he engaged Red Wings targeting system so as to lessen the chance of hitting the other two in the room.

At the first sound of the shattering Bucky was quick off the chair and pulling her into him so he could use his body to shield her from any stray bullets as neither of them knew what was happening, let alone that it was Sam coming to save them. The sound of the bullets drew in the guards who came running straight into the bullets and ending up as the same fate of their master. Once the bullets stopped and there were no more guards appearing did Bucky finally peek out to see none other than Red Wing hovering by the window. Moments later the sound of the fire alarm going off drew the both of them to their senses, “We have to get out of here” she urges, tugging on Bucky’s arm.

Bucky follows without complaint, taking her hand and taking off through the door and through the hallways that he’d memorised on the way here knowing that they would probably have to make a quick getaway and they couldn’t afford to get lost in the maze.

“Wait Bucky, need to get these heels off” she panted next to him, running was not her favourite thing but running in stilettos was definitely at the top of the list of least favourite things to do.

“No time” he stated, reaching for her and hoisting her up over his shoulder as she shrieked in surprise as he took off running again.

When they made it back to the main hall where guests were still evacuating, he placed her back onto her feet and led her into the crowd of people as they tried to blend in to make their way outside. Thankfully Sam had their driver waiting for them and only once they were in the safety of the car away from the chaos did they finally breathe a sigh of release.

Bucky turned to her, eyes skimming over her body, “Are you okay? No cuts, no blood?” he questioned as she looked down at her body.

“I think I’m good,” she confirmed, “you?” She added turning her attention back to him and noticing the tears in his jacket, probably from where he pulled them both to the floor covered in the broken glass but otherwise he looked unharmed.

“Don’t need to worry about me doll, I’ve been through worse” he chuckles and she doesn’t appreciate that he doesn’t seem to care for his own well being after that but that was something to discuss another time.

“Hey, thank you for protecting me back there” she says, softly leaning against his side instead of looking at him because she didn’t think she’d be able to hide her feelings from him.

Bucky wraps an arm around her, holding her close, “No need to thank me, that’s what I was there for, remember” he smiles down at her.

“I’m serious Buck, I’ve been awful to you for the past week and you haven’t done anything wrong, I’m sorry” she pouts pulling away from him so that he can see that she really does mean it, she’s just too scared to admit that she likes him.

Bucky’s face softens, “I get it, really and I don’t blame you, the others pushed you to do something you were uncomfortable with just to prove a point that didn’t need proving,” he speaks with a sad smile on his face, “I’m sorry I didn’t stop them” he adds, reaching over to cup her cheek but it all feels oddly intimate for someone who supposedly already has a girlfriend, but she blocks it out as she automatically leans into his touch.

“You don’t, not really, I don’t dislike you quite the opposite but it doesn’t really matter because you’re already taken” she sighs, finally coming to her senses and pulling away from his touch. Bucky doesn’t respond as she pulls away, her head leaning back against the headrest as she closes her eyes to block it all out. She knows it’s because she’s messed up by confessing to him and that it’s only going to make their team even more awkward than she’s already made for the past week. In fact she’s so lost in her own thoughts about maybe asking to transfer teams that she misses Bucky shifting beside her until she feels his breath against her face.

Opening her eyes she fights the urge to scream in surprise as she hadn’t expected him to be so close but she recovers just as quick, knowing that it’s Bucky, “You know I don’t actually have a girlfriend, right?” He questions, seriousness written all over his face that she believes him, “I’ve not even been looking because I’d already found her but I didn’t know she felt the same until now” he smiles as she stutters in surprise at his confession. Stutters that are silenced by the soft press of his lips against hers as he gives her the space to pull away if she wants but she doesn’t, instead she winds her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer as she presses harder against him, savouring the feeling of his lips and the knowledge that he feels the same.

They’re so lost in each other that they don’t even realise the car has stopped moving, they only realise when the car door opens and Sam’s voice sounds out of nowhere. “You don’t like him, huh?” he teases, thankful that his friends are back in one piece.

She groans as they pull away from each other and Bucky, already having had enough of Sam, pushes his flesh hand into Sam’s face and uses that to push him away from the door so they can get out. Sam’s laughing as they get out of the car and despite his teasing, he’s happy that the two of them finally got together, even if it meant he’d have to probably break up multiple make out sessions while they’re on future missions.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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sarahscribbles · 1 year ago

Note

fluff is everything, therefore:

I've been entertaining this idea for a very long time. Loki is a heavily touch deprived boy who needs all the affection in the world.

Now I desperately need a small drabble, doesn't even have to be long, of reader just...taking care of him. Calling him "angel" and watching him lose his MIND because no one's ever called him that before?? Reader making him food and looking after him when he's sick and just.....a small drabble. A cute little thing of just....Loki being loved

Because we all know the man needs it.

Anyway, mwah, hope this helps the writing juices flow :)

I hope this is what you had in mind, my darling! I know it's not the best!

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝐤

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The dull clink of ceramic on wood makes you wince and freeze almost comically in place by the side of the bed. Barely daring to breathe, your worried eyes snap towards the god currently buried between tousled viridian bedsheets.

He doesn’t stir.

You release a slow, quiet breath, relieved that Loki is still sleeping so soundly, despite his earlier protestations that he was completely fine. He’s far from fine, that you’re certain of. You’ve watched how the summer cold he’s come down with has chipped away at him over the past few days, zapping his energy quicker and more thoroughly than he’ll ever admit. He refuses to let that mask of invincibility slip for even a second.

“Gods don’t get sick, darling,” he had said, though you could see the sluggishness that had crept into his usual elegant movements, along with the deep weariness that had settled in his eyes.

One hour later you found him sleeping like the dead.

He looks so utterly at peace that your heart swells with love for him, and with the familiar realisation that he’s yours. This beautiful man who has survived tortures your mind can’t even conceive of is yours. It’s something that almost has you weep. Out of all the people on this planet - of all the beings in the entire cosmos - it’s you that gets to love him, and you’ll never take that for granted.

It’s impossible to tear your eyes off him as he sleeps. Still a villain to most of the world, yet he’s curled on his side in your bed with tousled hair and pink stained cheeks. You can see the bedsheets shifting with the steady rise and fall of his chest, as well as the way his arm is stretched out towards your side of the bed, as though, even lost to his dreams, his body still searches for yours.

The man is your entire heart and more, and it’s moments like these you wish you could bottle.

Your hand floats to his face before you can help yourself. It’s warmer than usual and still smooth beneath your gentle touch that pushes a stray curl back behind his ear. You swear you hear his breathing shift, almost like he knows you’re there.

You never tire of this - watching him sleep. To have him sleep so soundly in your presence, to have him know with such unwavering certainty that you wouldn’t dream of hurting him, feels like a blessing from the gods.

He trusts you - completely and wholeheartedly - and it’s one of the greatest gifts he could ever give you.

His hair is silken beneath your touch and errant strands wrap loosely around your fingers as you bend down to kiss his temple. It’s barely more than a butterfly kiss, but you can’t help but let your lips linger briefly against his skin. You only wish it was enough to free him from the clutches of his cold.

The backs of your fingers brush softly over his cheek and you make to leave and let him rest, but you’ve barely pulled away when he grabs your wrist in a loose grip.

“Stay,” Loki says, his voice groggy and congested. “Please.”

His eyes are flickering open, but it’s clear that he’s still wading through sleep. He looks so vulnerable and exhausted and sick that suddenly any plans you had for the rest of the day are unimportant. You can’t deny this man anything.

Easily, you climb into the bed beside him, resting your back against the headboard and opening your arms to him. “Come here, my love,” you tell him gently.

He wastes no time in shifting beneath the sheets until his legs are tangled with yours and his head is resting heavily on your stomach. He grips you like he’s been starved of your touch, like you’re the one thing tying him to Earth. You can feel the unspoken plea in the way he’s holding you, the “please don’t leave me” that’s burning into your skin.

You hope he knows that wild horses couldn’t drag you away from him.

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you stretch down to kiss the top of his head and intertwine your fingers with his. His hand locks around yours greedily, as though he can’t get enough of your touch.

It’s fine with you, though, because you can never get enough of him.

You begin to stroke his hair, so softly that you’re barely even touching him, but you can still hear his soft sigh of contentment. “Feeling better?” you ask softly, running your thumb along his knuckles.

“No,” he croaks, attempting to twist himself tighter around you. “I fear this may be something worse than one of your silly Midgardian maladies.”

You can’t help but smile. Your drama queen of a god is still in there. “Hmm, I think you might be right. I should probably let Tony know I’ll be out for the next few days to take care of you. I can’t risk my beautiful boy succumbing to a dangerous alien bug.”

Loki doesn’t move, but you can almost feel the smile that mirrors your own growing across his face. “You can’t,” he murmurs, his voice slightly muffled by how far he’s nuzzled into your stomach.

He lapses into silence and you take the opportunity to pull him closer. He’s solid in your arms - solid and alive and everything you never knew you were looking for. He’s your sun and your moon and all your stars, and you can’t imagine your life without him.

Wordlessly, you stretch to place another kiss to his head, not missing how he hums at your touch. “I adore you, you beautiful man. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He pulls your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles in reply. It’s so soft and so innocent that you’re struck again by how you would burn down worlds for him.

Not five minutes later, his breathing turns even and heavy. He’s fast asleep, head still resting on your stomach and hand still gripping yours.

#loki #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki fanfiction

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m-y--p-a-s-s-i-o-n-s · 2 months ago

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Summary: Dean likes to bring home a gift for his boyfriend from his business trips, this time is no different, he just needs to find the right time to give it to him.

Title: Earth is a Place in Heaven

Rating: T

Words: 1.4K

Summary: After Dean dies in the final episode he spends a lot of time in Heaven thinking about Castiel, who he never expects to see again...

Title: Human Things

Rating: E

Words: 1.5K

Summary: When Adam and Michael are released from the cage they head to Earth and Adam takes a little time do some human things, Michael wants to help.

Title: The Things That Really Matter

Rating: T

Words: 3.4K

Summary: When Dean is zapped forward to 2014, he learns an important lesson, but its not the one Zachariah wanted him to learn.

Title: Forever

Rating: T

Words: 570

Summary: What happens if Dean never got rid of the 'Mark of Cain'?

Title: Dean's Angel

Rating: T

Words: 865

Summary: An alternate scene in ep 11x18 "Hell's Angel" where Crowley smokes into Castiel's vessel to convince him to eject Lucifer, and things go a little different than he expected.

Title: First Day

Rating: E

Words: 14K

Chapters: 9

Summary: It's Lu's first day at a new school as a Math teacher and he instantly falls for the French teacher, Balthazar, who has an affinity for skinny jeans and v-necks. Balthazar's ex shows up and wants to get back with Balthazar, will he go back with his ex or stay with Lu?

Title: Two Worlds

Rating: E

Words: 9.1k

Chapters: 6

Summary: Castiel is nobody in high school and Dean is the captain of the football team. When Dean asks Cas to help him study, their two worlds start to merge, but can they become one?

Title: Coffee Beans & Motor Oil

Rating: E

Words: 14.6K

Chapters: 10

Summary: Dean meets Cas at his favourite coffee shop where Cas has just started working after moving into town a few days previous. They hit it off immediately, Dean asks Cas on a date and it all unfolds from there.

Title: Wings

Rating: T

Words: 1K

Summary: Castiel's back is itchy, could it have something to do with his wings?

Title: Under The Wooden Staircase

Rating: G

Words: 301

Summary: Bobby sets a trap for a crossroads demon but Crowley turns up instead.

Title: Under The Stars

Rating: G

Words: 327

Summary: Sam and Gabe make a plan to get Dean and Cas together on Christmas eve.

Title: Under The Roof Of The Impala

Rating: G

Words: 385

Summary: Dean and Cas find themselves under mistletoe and Cas makes his move.

Title: Acceptance

Rating: E

Words: 25.4K

Chapters: 17

Summary: Dean & Cas are 3 months into their relationship & living in a house with Sam when Bobby calls them to come & check out his new overfriendly neighbour. Things become a bit mysterious & Dean doesn't like what he finds.

Title: Winning Over Hearts

Rating: E

Words: 12.6K

Chapters: 11

Summary: Castiel returns from a holiday at Gabriel's house with Gabe, that night Sam is invited over for dinner and it is love at first sight for Gabe, not so much for Sam. Gabe has two weeks to win Sam's heart, but will he be able to?

Title: House Hunting

Rating: E

Words: 1.2K

Summary: Dean is a real estate agent and Cas is a nurse. Cas comes to look at a house to buy and they flirt and christen the master bedroom, but Cas buys the house in the end.

Title: Guessing Games

Rating: E

Words: 15.3K

Chapters: 10

Summary: Sam and Dean are in high school and make deals to ask out their crushes and dates ensue. John isn't too happy about his sons having boyfriends.

Title: Stuck In The End

Rating: T

Words: 471

Summary: Set in 2014, based on things we saw in 'The End', basically Cas is high and ends up crying and Dean comes in to comfort him.

Title: Birthdays

Rating: M

Words: 666

Summary: Dean decides Cas needs a proper birthday, so they celebrate and Dean gets Cas a nice gift.

Title: Understanding

Rating: T

Words: 537

Summary: Dean and Cas had a fight which leads to them understanding their feelings.

Title: A Small Misunderstanding

Rating: G

Words: 548

Summary: Cas walks in on Dean hugging another man and quickly jumps to conclusions.

Title: Truth Or Dare

Rating: T

Words: 2.2K

Summary: Gabriel wants to play truth or dare, and Dean and Cas find out things about each other that changes their relationship for the better.

#spn #supernatural #destiel #spn fanfic #destiel fanfic #deancas #sabriel #balcifer #crobby #dean x castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #my fic #fanfiction #endverse #midam

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Note

Im so happy your write for Hesh!!! Could I request Hesh and reader who was training to be a ballerina before ODIN and became a nurse because she wanting to help others? I love writing so much!!!!

Dancing With Scalpels

PAIRING: David 'Hesh' Walker x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: It's strange, maybe you'll have to thank Hesh's dog for breaking his ankle - otherwise, you'd have never met him.

WORDCOUNT: 2.2k

WARNINGS: Broken bone, mentions of death, but mostly fluff

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You hum as you organize your desk, taking up papers in your hands and sliding them under the metal holder of your clipboard with a clack of material. The medical ward was slow today, and while that was a good thing, it left you with little to do besides paperwork and re-cleaning your space.

Glancing over your own handwriting as you carefully place the clipboard back down on your desk, you sigh and stretch your arms above your head. You listen to your bones crack before dropping them, eyes sliding around until they finally land on the picture, which sits on the tabletop like a silent reminder.

It’s been about five years since ODIN struck, since the world shifted and broke, but you still find it in yourself to look back on the past with fondness. The images of your troupe, all dressed up in flowy finery and posing in your pointe shoes, were a deep comfort to you.

Most of them were dead you knew, yet in that image, they still lived and breathed—had the sway of their feet and the grace of their arms to display to an awaiting crowd. Their smiles had never faded. As you stare at that picture, bodies trapped in time, you hear the stomp of booted feet coming in from your open door; ears perking and attention zapped away.

The soft smile on your lips disappears, a sheen of professionalism coming back like a curtain over a stage. You blink and latch onto the shadow of a man who limps slowly into the view of the opening. He’s about to pass by, a large grimace on his stubbled face, before you call to him.

“Sir?” Your feet take you out from the desk, quickly skirting around the chair before you’re about three feet from the tall individual. “Are you alright?”

The man is in his late twenties, burly and strong with wide shoulders and the tapered waist of an athletic build. He’s wearing recon gear atop a gray jacket, staps and guards interlocked like the fingers of lovers while he struggles to properly place his left foot on the floor.

Wisps of brown hair stick out from under a black beanie. It looks like he’d stopped at the armory first, coming here after dropping off his weapons.

The stranger’s green eyes blink at you, the tightness of hidden pain stuck in the lines near his pulled lips. His strong jaw works, pulling a nonchalant smile that looks more like a poorly done wince.

“Hey,” he clears his throat and has his hands clenched at his side. “Sorry about barging in, there any nurses available right now?”

“You’re looking at one,” you tilt your head to motion inside of your room, hand coming up to rest on the wooden frame of the door. “Do you need help walking?”

“Nah,” a wiry chuckle, gloved hand waving in dismissal. “I got here alright, I think a few more steps won't—”

His limp foot catches on his good one as he turns, and with a panicked widening of his gaze, the brunette stumbles as a sharp noise of alarm echoes. Your eyes widen. Before he can slam his face into the ground and create more problems, you dash forward and loop your arms around his waist, his gear digging into your scrubs. You grunt and take the full weight of him for a moment before the injured man snaps out a hand to the doorframe and quickly struggles back to his feet.

You stare and watch his cheeks go red, his eyes darting away with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Ah…sorry about that, Sweetheart.” You huff and cross your arms.

“Quite the show for ‘I think I’ll be just fine.’” A flash of a smirk goes across his square jaw.

“Well, maybe your beauty just made me lightheaded.” At your unimpressed stare, he shakes his head and questions, “That bad?”

“Very,” you joke, smiling and rolling your eyes. “C’mon, let’s get you looked at before you end up breaking your nose, Soldier.”

“Sounds like a plan, Ma’am.” You hook an arm around his waist and let him lean on you, his limb resting along the span of your shoulders and his injured leg weakly trying to help you along. Halfway to the examination table, he grunts out, “Name’s Hesh by the way—don’t think we’ve met before.”

You smile and say your name. “Transferred in from Dallas two weeks ago. Was told you needed more nurses here after a Federation attack near the Wall.”

“Then you were told correct, thanks for stepping up.” He’s set down with a huff and a grimace, his eyes swimming with annoyance at his leg. “Damn thing.”

You turn and wash your hands in the sink, slipping on sterile gloves as Hesh undoes his laces.

“Sorry for droppin’ in like this, I tried to play it off but I think it’s broken.” You look over your shoulder and tense—the pale skin of his ankle was a deep black and blue, and the foot was somewhat twisted to the side.

“Well, shit,” you curse and Hesh blinks up at you sheepishly, sending a stiff smile. “It’s good you came by when you did. What happened?”

The man’s hand goes to run over the back of his neck. He seems highly embarrassed about something.

“Ah, well,” he plays off a small twitch of his lips, “Riley, my K-9, he, uh…he managed to dart after a hostile before I could see him. Shoved me right to my ass and down a ravine in the process, actually.”

You have to put your wrist to your mouth to stifle a giggle, kneeling down to gently grab onto the affected limb.

Hesh takes in a tiny breath as you gently move the appendage, grumbling through a strained smile. “That funny, Doll?”

“Well,” you easily detail, “all I’ll say is that I’m sure it was something to see firsthand.”

“Tell that to Logan, my brother wouldn’t shut his mouth about it all while draggin’ me back. You try listenin’ to him while you’re half passed out—that was even worse than the pain.” You hum, chuckling.

This Hesh character was quite the casual talker, conversation with him came easily. You touch the skin of his ankle and quietly apologize when he hisses, noticing the swelling of flesh and sighing. Moving it from side to side and asking him if he’d broken his ankle before.

He answered in an affirmative—playing football in high school.

“Sorry to say this, but you’re right, Hesh, definitely broken. I don’t need to see an X-ray to know that.” He groans lowly. “Let’s get this all sorted and get you out of here, hm?”

There’s a long sigh.

“...Yes, Ma’am.”

Over the course of hours, you take various X-rays and scans, looking for the point of most contention and finding it in the form of a break in the lower tibia; it was clean, luckily for him. No bone shards or anything of that sort.

“I’m beggin’ to know if I need surgery, Sweetheart.” Green eyes lock with yours as you push him back into your office, the wheelchair squeaking under him. You smile gently at a few other nurses who pass—they nod back with a teasing smile at the man below you. “I’m on the edge of my seat, here.”

“I’m not the doctor, Hesh,” you chuckle, tilting your head. “I legally can’t tell you that.”

“Legally?” His brow raises. “C’mon, the world fell apart—there’s no Risk Management anymore.”

“Are you sure Riley didn’t intentionally push you over the edge of that ravine?” Your eyes narrow, a joke in your eye.

A slow smile grows on Hesh’s lips. “That hurt, Ma’am.”

You scoff and shake your head, wheeling him into the previous room and leaving him to go to the paperwork on your desk. Grabbing it, you open your top drawer and deposit it away for another time. Gliding up beside you, Hesh sighs and glances around as you tidy up.

His eyes find the framed picture on your desk.

“Whoa,” the brunette utters, locking onto your form in the middle of the group. You blink and look to the side, noticing his staring. Face going hot, you raise a brow in question. “That you?”

Hesh wheels slightly closer, leaning forward but respectfully not touching any of your things. You restrain a wide smile at his intrigue.

“Why else would I have a framed picture of ballerinas on my desk, Hesh? Of course, it’s me.” You pick up the frame and tilt it his way, resting your hip on the side of your desk as he takes it gently, delicate with your belongings. “Two years before ODIN—we were in Europe for a competition.”

“Shit,” he mutters, sliding you an awed glance. “You must be really good.”

“Was,” you laugh, shrugging. Hesh confusingly looks up while you explain the best you can. “It’s been so long, plus I gave it up when everything went down; went to get my qualifications to be a nurse and help out.” Hesh looks a bit sad at that, sneaking a glance back down at your bright smile in the picture.

“Looked like you loved it,” he commented, handing the frame back after a moment of thought. “I’m sorry.”

You’re slightly taken aback by the apology, oddly touched by his sudden seriousness about this. After a slow inhale, you hum. “It’s alright, Hesh. That’s just life—it’ll take us places even if we want to go or not. We just have to make the best of it.”

“You’re happy, though, Sweetheart,” he asks, eyes not faltering, “right?”

It’s not a feeling of uncertainty that makes you hesitate, it’s the way he asks you so genuinely; honest with his intentions. Rarely have you had people—soldier or civilian—come in here and speak to you like this. You stare with slightly-parted lips.

A bashful smile blooms on your lips.

“When I’m helping patients like you, Hesh, yes. Yes, I’m happy.” The man stares a moment longer before he clears his throat and glances down, contact broken; a crimson sheen infects his face.

“Good. That’s good.” Even if he’s not looking at you, a grin still twitches his lips; making your face go heated and warm with something else entirely. Hands stuttering over your frame, you put it down where it was and lick your lips, smiling at the tabletop.

When the doctor comes in, you let Hesh speak and pipe in with anything you needed to include, the air suddenly tinged with something between you and the soldier that you can’t put words to. It’s so potent even the doctor sends you a raised brow on the walk out. You avert your eyes and itch at your cheek.

“Least I’ll be able to get back out in the field quicker,” Hesh sighs, taking off his beanie for a moment before itching at the top of his head. “If I’d of had to go under, Logan would never let me hear the end of it.”

“You and your brother sound like you’re constantly nagging at each other,” you huff.

“Shit, what else are we good for?” The both of you share a laugh, eyes crinkling. There’s a moment of intimate silence before Hesh splays his hands and speaks.

“I’m gettin’ a splint, then?” You internally curse yourself as Hesh’s lids narrow on you, head tilting with a deep smirk. The trance is broken.

“Until the swelling goes down,” your head nods, fingers motioning to his ankle. “Then a cast for twelve to sixteen weeks.”

“Hm,” Hesh looks away and thins his lips, seriousness slipping back into his expression.

Staring, you ask carefully, concerned, “Hesh?”

“No,” he shakes his head, the smirk coming back as if it never left, “No, it’s just that’s a long time to not be able to take you out, is all.”

Your face blanks, heart all but stopping in your chest. The man watches you closely, slowly slipping his beanie back on his head with an innocent smile.

“Too forward?”

“N-no,” you stutter, face heating to an alarming degree. “No, I think that one was just right.”

Shaking your head quickly you brush down your top and listen to Hesh’s bright chuckles as you gather your bearings. It’s after you sigh and look back into those greens that you laugh and utter, “I think I’d be willing to wait.”

“Oh, yeah?” Your face can’t stop smiling at the teasing tilt to his words. “Now, I’d hate to make you sit around that long, Sweetheart.” “Hesh, I’m agreeing to go out on a date with you, take it or leave it,” you huff in exasperation, staring at him with a loose expression.

His eyes lighten, the stain of happiness leaking through.

“You proud of yourself?”

Hesh looks smug, but promptly states, “Didn’t think I’d get this far, if I’m bein’ honest.”

You press a hand to your mouth to stifle your loud laugh.

As promised, fifteen months later, there’s a knock on your office door—you stand and think nothing, opening the barrier only to find a large bouquet of flowers and the man holding them up to you.

Your face softens and Hesh returns a warm hum of greeting.

“Hope you’ll forgive me for bein’ late, Doll,” his eyes crinkle. “Was learnin’ how to dance. C’mon, I got some moves to show off—we’ll get you back in those pointe shoes in no time.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #cod ghosts x reader #cod ghosts #call of duty ghosts #call of duty x you #x female reader #cod fanfiction #hesh walker x female reader #hesh walker x reader #david hesh walker #hesh walker #david walker #call of duty x reader #cod x female reader #x fem!reader

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divine-misfortune · 9 months ago

Note

What about Phantom and Mountian kissing as encouragement 👀

They say pacing is a good way to clear your head, at least Phantom was pretty sure he heard someone say it once. That someone was starting to feel like a real big fucking liar though. He had been pacing the length of the dressing room for an hour, maybe two, and his head was still horribly loud. Bees swarming in his skull, stinging his brain, he was this close to giving himself a little zap of quintessence to enter into a short coma to escape it.

Sound check had been nothing short of nightmarish on his end. Too many notes played sharp and riffs fumbled to be excused. Papa had even shot him a look - not exactly what you'd call a dirty look but one that still knotted up his stomach. Rain had even fixed him with something akin to a scowl, or maybe the sun was in his eyes.

Phantom just couldn't get off that stage fast enough, and the dread of being forced back onto it in a matter of hours nearly made him sick.

In an effort to maintain his grip on sanity, he'd started pacing and pacing got him nowhere. Phantom wanted to curl in on himself instead. The old leather couch in the corner was the perfect place in his opinion. The well loved cushion was easy to sink into, some sort of embrace to mend his frayed nerves. It almost barely helped.

Knees drawn up to his chest, arms folded, face hidden in them, he felt small. Fragile. Dead weight.

"Bug?"

Phantom's fingers dug into his biceps and he sniffled, blinking away tears he did not care to admit to. The best response he could manage was a weak hum, tuneless and a little unsteadier than he'd like.

"You're not dressed yet," Mountain was frowning. His voice always got a little softer when he frowned. "Whats going on?"

He shrugged. Lying, he knew exactly what the issue was and so did Mountain.

The couch dipped beside him and a large hand settled on his back. Slow circular motions between his shoulder blades that had Phantom unraveling. It shouldn't have been so easy but Mountain made everything seem so simple.

"Rough day, huh sprout?"

"Yeah..." he croaked sadly and lifted his head enough to rest his chin on his arms. "Do I have to do this?"

"Well, technically no but we're gonna sound like shit without you."

"Probably have a better chance without me tripping around up there."

Mountain shifted in his peripheral before slipping an arm around him, pulling the little ghoul against his chest without a fight. Phantom wanted to be there anyhow. Closest thing to safety he had in that little room. He wrapped both arms around his middle and clutched at Mountain's vest. Hiding against him tamed the swarm in his head, quieted the worst of the turmoil.

"You need to be more patient with yourself."

"Easier said than done."

"I know, I know. Despite what the gray hairs might lead you to believe I was new to this too once." Phantom snorted and let out a shuddered breath that wracked his delicate frame. "Could tell you a thousand stories about my bad days on tour, and you're gonna collect quite a few of your own but they'll get easier to shrug off."

Phantom held tighter and Mountain embraced him the same. Squished him like it might just squeeze the doubt out of the little quint. It didn't, of course, but it did get a laugh out of him. Weak but genuine.

"Lemme see that pretty face, I wanna make it better."

There was a moment of hesitation to unlatch from the earth ghoul but he did inevitably, rewarded by those familiar warm eyes. Mountain's mouth quirked upwards at the edges and he cupped his face in both hands. All he wanted to do was melt into them, trusting him to keep him upright.

Mountain leaned in and caught his lips before they could quiver with the threat of another little cry again. One little peck, followed by another, and another. Cautiously paced with every kiss, deepening slowly until Phantom was boneless between his hands. This always seemed to go to his head, could damn near restart his brain just by kissing him - and that was the point.

And Mountain gave him one more before breaking away before all he had was a puddle of a ghoul left. Squishing his flushed cheeks, he gave an exaggerated mwah just as he sat back to admire his work. Phantom's eyes were half lidded, fluttering delicately as he registered the absence of Mountain’s mouth against his.

"Give yourself a little grace, you've more than earned it. Some days are just gonna be bad...But I promise to always try to kiss the blues away."

"...Think I'm still feeling a little blue, can you try again?" Phantom asked quietly, tugging at his vest hopefully.

"Only after you get dressed. I'll ward off aaaaaall those sad feelings till we're called to places once you do. Deal?"

"Deal."

#writing #void writing #answered #nameless ghouls #phantom ghoul #mountain ghoul #mountain/phantom #mountain x phantom #the band ghost #ghost the band #the band ghost ficlet

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chaotic-orphan · 2 months ago

Text

Intoxicating Fear (XXVI)

A Fool’s Bargain

Read part one // masterpost // Continued from here

This part is dedicated to @neongalaxiie who always reminds me to link the posts, so you don’t have to go looking XD

*~*~*~*~*

Kit grabbed the keys from Jude’s body as Tides helped Sawyer to his feet. Kit gave her the keys and she gasped, retracting her hand quickly.

“Shit, ow!” She said, shaking her hand and Kit frowned, glancing down at the keys in his hand. Small sparks still flying from his hand and arm. Sparks he couldn’t feel.

Sawyer’s dark eyes found Kit’s and said: “you open the door, Tides and I can get up the stairs together.”

“But—” Kit protested, and fell back a step, his temple throbbing with a gasping pulse. So much power, so much energy, why stop now? Release, release, release, release, release.

Tides widened her eyes. “Kit?”

He shook his head, every component of his body thrumming with power that was begging like a child, keening like a dog, singing like a siren for Kit to give into the temptation. Stop trying so hard to fight it. Sawyer’s so weak, give him a jolt, a little hit. A pick me up. Come on—

“M’fine,” Kit mumbled, walking towards the stairs so he could ignore the looks of concern painted plainly across Tides and Sawyer’s faces. His heart was in his throat, blocking his oxygen and pulsing the thrumming blood around his body from there. What the fuck was happening to him?

He was happy to be standing, though his butt was numb from the constant sitting as he climbed the stairs and went through the keys one by one, sliding them into the lock and turning until one actually fit and opened the heavy door.

Kit frowned as the door opened.

They were in a house. Somebody’s home. Jude’s? Supervillain’s? He held the door open, eyes scanning the dark wooden floors and picture frames hanging on the walls for clues as to where the fuck they were. Tides helped Sawyer up the stairs, standing behind him so he wouldn’t fall and there to catch him if he did.

Kit frowned at the mirror directly across from the door, and glanced back at Sawyer. He was only halfway up. Kit let the door go and grabbed the mirror off the wall, glancing quickly around for a place to hide it. A small table with sticky notes and pens was on the other side of the door, blocked, so Kit stuck the mirror upside down under it and went back to the door, grabbing the handle and pulling it open again.

Sawyer grinned at him as he got to the top. “I thought you were abandoning us, Mallory.”

“Not until we’re free of here, and then maybe you two can get a room,” he said, closing the door after Tides had cleared the stairs. Tides laughed, shaking her head at Kit. “We need to move a little faster though, who knows when Supervillain will be back.”

Sawyer and Tides nodded. Tides went to support Sawyer again but he put a gentle hand on her wrist and told her he was fine. Kit walked ahead of them, giving them a little privacy as he peeked down a hallway. It was an old house, he realised, something passed down the family for generations. The hallway they were in seemed to be at one end of the house, tucked away into a little nook.

They was nobody else in the house, nobody Kit could feel anyways, but he didn’t exactly trust his abilities at the moment so he sent out a small pulse through the house under his feet.

Nothing. He straightened. They were on their own.

“There’s nobody else here,” Kit said, standing in the hall. “I can’t feel any other pulses except Jude’s in the basement. I think we’re good.”

“So we can actually get out of here,” Tides said with a wide smile. Kit could see the hope blossom in her face like relief washing over her. Kit nodded.

“I’ll find the door,” Kit said, his blood felt like fizz in his veins and he just wanted to go. To move, he couldn’t stand still.

“No,” Sawyer said with a breath. “We’ll stay together.”

Kit clenched his jaw. If he just zapped Sawyer unconscious then he could carry him the rest of the way and not have to wait for his—

Kit slapped a hand over his temple, groaning. Sawyer’s eyes hardened. “Kit? Why are you able to use your powers? And why aren’t they blue?”

Kit opened his eyes, which he didn’t remember closing, but as soon as he did he regretted it. A raging headache thumped behind his eyelids with every pulse of his heart. No, not his heart. That other thing inside him, the well of magic. It felt like a rabid dog, eating him from the inside out, and wilder too. Unpredictable.

“Kit!”

Sawyer’s words felt like bullets, bouncing off his inner ear canals and pin-balling around his skull.

“Kit!” A hand on his arm and Kit opened his eyes again, the world swaying a little in front of him. Kit stepped back, the hand fell away and he shook his head, leaning a hand against the wall for support.

Tides looked between the two boys, one was practically a walking safety hazard and the other winced with every word he spoke, his wounds congealed with dark, jelly like crimson glueing in the cracks.

“Okay,” she said. “New plan. The two of you will go sit down, rest on the stairs,” she told them, pointing two feet down the hall. “I’ll find a phone and we can call Superhero.”

Kit groaned. “No… there… Supervillain destroyed the city. I don’t know if Superhero’s alive, or any of the heroes for that matter.”

“What?” Tides asked, breathless.

“What do you mean Supervillain destroyed the city Kit?” Sawyer demanded, grabbing a fistful of Kit’s shirt and slamming him back against the lip of the wall.

“I— when Supervillain lured me to the clock tower,” Kit said, his memory scratching like nails on a chalkboard but he continued. “You were unconscious,” he said to Sawyer, “so you wouldn’t remember. But I thought—”

“Thought what?” Sawyer demanded.

Kit raised his head, catching Tides’s eyes in his unnatural glowing red. Brows furrowed over his sockets casting them in shadows. “You were there, Tides.”

Tides frowned in reply. Sawyer looked at her now too. “I don’t—” Tides sputtered, scrambling to find words that wouldn’t come.

Sawyer let out a grunt, tightening his grip in Kit’s shirt. “That doesn’t matter right now. Tides, go find a phone.”

“We should get out of here!” Kit protested, glaring at Sawyer again.

“How? Call an uber? Oh wait, we need a phone to do that!” Sawyer snapped as Tides walked past the pair and went searching the house, their voices dimming the further she walked away.

“You didn’t answer my question, Mallory, why can you use your powers and Tides and I can’t?”

Kit ran a hand through his hair, sighing. He felt the static charge from his hand ignite his hair and set it standing on end. “It’s a long story,” Kit said. “One we don’t have time to tell. Just know that I can.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to trust you?” Sawyer demanded. “How do I know you’re not working with them?!”

The words were like a slap in the face. Kit felt his emotions stirring inside and he wrestled to keep them down. “Sawyer, I’d advise you let go of me if you don’t want to be fried in the next three seconds.”

Sawyer’s hard eyes searched Kit’s face, scoffed and stepped back, running a hand through his own hair and letting out a breath, turning away from Kit.

“Fuck. I need to sit down,” he mumbled, walking to the staircase and planting his arse on the third wooden step.

Kit stared as he gingerly touched a bad gash on his face and winced, shuddering slightly. They were all stressed and tired, Sawyer and Tides more so than Kit, but here Kit was, throwing a tantrum and letting his powers consume him.

“I’m not one of them,” he said quietly. Sawyer raised his head, but Kit didn’t meet his gaze. “And I’m sorry for… acting out. I’m antsy. I’m gonna have a look around. See if I can find out any information.”

Before Sawyer could reply, Kit turned away in the opposite direction that Tides went, back towards the cellar and around the small wall to the other hallway. The house was oval like a continuous loop so you could explore every room and reach every place without having to walk through a rigid set of rooms. It was also massive.

Out one of the lattice patterned windows he could see an expanse of a garden, no, not garden— gardens. A three tier design with mixes of stone and perfectly cut grass and hedges, flowers of every colour. Kit frowned. This wasn’t Ambrose level rich, this was something else entirely. Would you even call it rich or wealth?

Kit continued walking. There was a second staircase, more rigid with creaking floorboards as he walked up to the first floor and stepped out. The floor was carpeted in a rich burgundy between two strips of dark wood, so deeply brown it would have looked black if not for the beam of light shedding the gleam of brown from it.

Portraits hung on the walls.

Actual painted portraits of women and men in old timey dress, starting from around two hundred years ago if Kit had to guess. It was so strange. He felt like he was walking through a museum, the walls thick and dense, seemed to close in on him a little. Sparks zipped out at his feet, the fibres from the carpet charging static in him.

It was so annoying.

He sent out another pulse through the house, just to make sure. Nothing.

It unsettled a sixth sense within him. Shouldn’t Supervillain have thought of this? That leaving them with just Jude was a bad idea? Did he honestly think they wouldn’t escape? And why the fuck were they looking for a phone, they should be looking for keys to a car, or even better a car. Kit could make it run.

Maybe.

He hadn’t tested the bounds of his new red lightning before, maybe it could do other things that Kit never ever considered.

Right. Decision made, Kit nodded. He would do a quick search of the upstairs, see if anything stood out and if it didn’t then they got to leave sooner. Lingering would just lead to problems later on, and they were in no shape to fight.

Kit’s feet moved through the upstairs. Some of the walls had small balconies in them that overlooked the ground floor, and at one he saw Sawyer on the steps of the staircase. “Hey, Sawyer?”

Sawyer looked up to see Kit leaning over the railings and scoffed. “Jesus, what kind of fucking hogwarts castle is this place?”

“I was thinking more great gatsby,” Kit said. “Wait til i find a wardrobe and I’ll shower you with clothes.”

“Have you found any clues?”

Kit shook his head. “Nope. It’s like mausoleum. Quiet as the grave.”

“Clearly it’s bringing out the romantic in you,” Sawyer said with a smirk then winced, oil like blood leaking from a split in his lip. The motion pulled at Kit’s heartstrings. They needed to get Sawyer to a hospital, ASAP.

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

Kit went straight, knowing the hall would loop around to the stairs eventually and just when he got to the mouth of the steps he saw it from across the way. His feet stopped suddenly, frozen on the step as his heart thumped in his chest once and then stopped altogether.

His mouth lost all moisture, his tongue scraping like sandpaper out over his chapped lips. His legs were moving as his mind stuttered along, trying to make itself comprehend what he was seeing.

On the wall were a collection of framed photographs and diplomas, degrees, awards. There’s a picture outside the Hero Academy, Mentor with his arm around a young Ambrose, beaming at the camera. Another on the same day, Mentor stood with his arm around a younger Ambrose who smiled genuinely at the camera, so unreserved and unfiltered. He had dimples in his cheeks that Kit had never seen on the real version of him, rather than this snapshot of him frozen in time.

The boy on the other side of Mentor, was a little taller than Ambrose, his hair a chestnut brown and his grin just as wide as Ambrose’s and Mentor’s, but his eyes… he had the same silver eyes as Mr Silver. Kit frowned. Were they brothers? Did Mr Silver have a brother that Kit didn’t know about? He must’ve, Kit… he would’ve known— or would he?

Mr Silver was more family friend than professional acquaintance. They had dinner together, surely it would’ve come up, but then again… he was a very private person. And Kit didn’t like sharing his past either so he couldn’t exactly berate him for it.

Kit stepped back, searching the photos. And sure enough, there was a younger Mr Silver shaking Mentor’s hand on the day they established the link between the Hero agency and the government.

He stepped back again, a picture of an older Ambrose with Mr Silver’s brother, a lazy arm wrapped around Ambrose’s shoulders and a cigarette dangling from his teeth. Ambrose looked more gaunt in that one, his eyes unsmiling, his expression stoic. So unlike younger Ambrose.

Did Ambrose go to the Academy? Was he in one of the older years? How had Kit missed him? Kit knew everyone older than him unless Ambrose was already gone by the time Kit joined.

A degree in Pure Mathematics with a minor in theoretical physics from the best college in the country attributed to Nathan T. Scarrow.

Kit’s eyes went back to the picture of Mentor and Ambrose, zooming in on the third, Nathan.

Why the fuck was Ambrose in the pictures of Supervillain’s house? Kit felt the anger surge in him before he could check in, before he could rein it in, it roared with a beast’s fury and Kit’s feet no longer touched the ground. Sparks erupted from every part of him, every inch of his body as he snarled, cracking the pictures, revelling in watching the glass shatter into pieces, falling from their hooks to the ground.

Mr Silver. Ambrose. Mentor.

They all knew Nathan, they had to be complicit in covering up the fact that he was Supervillain, right?! RIGHT?!

“Kit!”

But Kit didn’t answer. He could only hear the warning voice so very far away from him as he clenched his hands into fists and shattered the windows behind him, letting the breeze blow through the house and still it wasn’t enough.

He wanted to destroy everything.

Everybody.

How could he be so stupid?! To think Ambrose would actually— that Mentor had ever— that Mr Silver was a friend?!

“KIT!”

Terrified blue eyes found his and reached for him. Kit dropped his head to his chest, collapsing to his knees on the shattered glass crunching beneath his combats but he didn’t care as they pierced his skin. A sob wracked it’s way up his throat and caught in his throat, causing him to tip forward onto his elbows on the jagged glass staring at the smiling, happy photo of Mentor and Ambrose and wailing like a child.

“Kit,” Tides said, reaching an arm out to him despite the currents rushing through him but he knew, somehow he knew, he wouldn’t hurt her as she tried to comfort him.

“He lied…” Kit mewled, his back arching as fat tears splattered down onto the old photograph, staining it. “He lied about everything. Everything.”

Tides gathered Kit in her arms, gently picking him back away from the shards of glass and held him as he cried like a chief mourner to a funeral that wasn’t real.

None of it. None of his life, his happiness, his connections, his career— none of it was his, he could only ever contribute it to other people. Even now, when he should be focusing on escaping here he was, curled up like a child and sobbing into Tides shirt.

A hand plucked at a piece of glass on his legs and tugged lightly to remove it. Sawyer. He could see him from the corner of his eyes, tentatively working to remove the shards.

Kit didn’t care, he couldn’t feel it. The cold presence of betrayal felt like an overwhelming absence of all else, every good thing, even his friends who silently waited and tried to help him, hold him, be there for him. He couldn’t feel any of it except for the twisting knotting of guilt like a double barrel buckshot in his chest.

He shouldn’t have gone looking. He should’ve left well enough alone and escaped. They should have escaped.

Tides stiffened under Kit, and Sawyer paused in his movements. Kit blinked, staring at nothing, his mind and body numb.

It was Sawyer who spoke. “Kit?” He said, his voice a whisper. Kit’s heavy eyes turned to Sawyer. The weight of them too great to function. He was exhausted. He wanted to go home and forget everything.

No. He wanted to get Ambrose to make him forget everything. Everything about his life. He didn’t want to be a hero anymore. He didn’t want to do anything other than sleep, but his eyes met Sawyer’s and he sensed the urgency in them.

“Can you sense anyone outside?”

The question washed over Kit like alarm bells in a prison because yes, when he pushed his powers out along the ground he could sense a car that had just stopped and two heartbeats outside the front door, down and to the right of the staircase.

“Kit!”

Then a slap in the face. Kit blinked, eyes wide at Sawyer who had leaned over Kit’s legs and grabbed his face in his hands. It was like a spring uncoiled suddenly, releasing and launched itself forwards. Kit stared, eyes dazed at Sawyer.

“You’re bleeding,” he said. Kit reached a hand up to his face where Sawyer slapped him, dumbly fumbling for the blood. Before his fingers found it it dribbled over Kit’s lips and he blinked lazily, withdrawing his fingers as the warmth went over his lips to his chin.

“Oh,” was all Kit said, feeling so, so very far away from his body. Time seemed to be moving in slow motion as Sawyer helped Tides grab Kit and snuck into one of the bedrooms, closing the door. They put Kit against the bed, his bloody fingers staining the soft white carpet as Sawyer and Tides danced in a swirl of colours in front of him, pushing something heavy and wooden across the door’s threshold.

A barricade.

Kit blinked dumbly at them. He felt like he was going to throw up.

Kit?

Kit stiffened on the ground, hands fisting the carpet to keep himself steady.

Are you here?

Kit looked up at Tides and Sawyer who were huddled in the corner, speaking lowly. “We need to get out of here.”

“We know,” Sawyer said, his voice hard. “But we need to be smart about it.”

“No,” Kit said, shaking his head. Oh, fuck that was a bad idea. “No, you don’t understand,” he protested, shifting his weight to the side so he could push himself to his hands and knees. He grabbed the fabric of the duvet and pulled himself up on shaky feet. A pair of hands grabbed him and steadied him but Kit didn’t really notice it other than the fact that he didn’t face plant the floor.

“Kit!” Tides hissed. “Be quiet.”

Kit kept his eyes trained on the broken windows of the room. They were only up one flight. They could make it. Kit reached a hand up to the window frame and felt solid wall.

“Fuck,” he said with a slightly hysterical breath. “Can one of you find the window? I think I’m seeing double.”

“Kit,” Sawyer said closer to him. “You just spent an unprecedented amount of power blowing every window in this house to bits, you can’t take jumping out of one.”

“He’s right, Kit.”

Kit?

Kit swallowed, turning in Sawyer’s hands a lopsided grin on his face, eyelids drooping as if he was drunk or drugged, but he fixed them on Sawyer’s swirling face. His nose drifting up to his forehead like a unicorn.

“WHO THE FUCK BROKE MY WINDOWS?!” A voice boomed from below.

“Omen’s here,” Kit told him. “Omen’s here,” he said again. “He’s the reason my powers are fucked. He’s the reason I don’t have a family anymore. He’s the reason for everything wrong in my life and he’s downstairs, Sawyer. So you can stay here and be his new little toy to break, I’m fucking done with him. I’m done. Now show me the fucking window.”

He didn’t know what Sawyer looked like. He didn’t know if he was happy or sad or effected by anything Kit just said but it didn’t matter because gently, Sawyer took Kit’s hand and placed it on the windowsill.

“There. Just hold on, we’re going together. Tides?”

Tides was by their side in a second. “Hold him, I’ll go out first. Send him after so I can catch him, and then you come. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Kit couldn’t see but Sawyer was concerned by his confession. But they could deal with that later. Right now they had to get out of here.

Sawyer put a foot on the bed, grabbing the window frame and swung his leg over, and, “what?” He breathed.

Kit frowned, but it made him nauseous to do so. “What?”

“I can’t— I can’t get through.”

“Jus’ open the window,” Kit said, slurring his words.

“There is no window, Kit. There’s no glass. There’s like— a barrier. I can’t fucking get through.”

Tides moved then and pressed her hand to the window, where Sawyer’s leg was perched in mid air. “What?!”

Kit sensed someone by the door, but by the time he processed that he should tell Tides and Sawyer the doorway exploded in on them. Wooden lats and splinters shot towards the trio, a wayward board hitting Kit over the head and he fell like a log.

His vision zoomed in and out, like a camera trying to focus on a subject but failing to find the proper balance. His ears were ringing violently, muting all other sounds except his wheezing breaths and his heartbeat that thumped thunderous in his skull and slow.

Kit got his elbows under him and pushed himself on shaky hands up to try and see what was happening. Tides and Sawyer were fighting, struggling beside him, Tides further away than Sawyer was. When did that happen?

But all cognitive skills died when he met two black eyes fixed on him. They were drawn down in concern, and Kit must be so fucking out of it because for a second— he could’ve mistaken them for worry. But that’s ridiculous.

“Kit?” Ambrose asked, grabbing his face in his cold hands. Kit blinked slowly like a cat. “Kit!” Ambrose said again, his voice muted and too far away for him to hear, but he could see his red lips moving. He couldn’t hear anything as if a bomb had gone off right beside his head.

He wished he would pass out but he remained stubbornly conscious the entire time, his brain pulsing in his skull. Ambrose shifted Kit to sit with his back against the wall, Kit groaning the whole time. Ambrose was still speaking, clicking his fingers in Kit’s face.

Across the bed he saw flashes of yellow and blue that he knew were Tides and Sawyer, on their knees in front of Nathan.

Supervillain?

He wasn’t wearing a mask, but the only logical explanation was that Nathan was Supervillain, right?

He didn’t remember. It seemed important at the time but now the thought melted into a puddle to join the pooling sludge in Kit’s head.

“Stop,” Kit said, leaning forward until he was stopped by Ambrose’s hand, his own reaching for Tides and Sawyer. “Don’t touch ‘em.”

Nathan laughed, or looked like he was about to laugh, gesturing to Kit but speaking to Ambrose.

“Get off me,” Kit said, slamming his hands down on Ambrose’s as he pitched forward again. “Don’t— hurt me instead, please. Please. Let them go.”

“Kit,” Ambrose said beside him, pushing him back again. It felt like he was submerged in water and Ambrose was speaking at him from above the surface. Muted, but he could make out the words now. “You have a concussion. You need to sit still.”

“We couldn’t get out,” Kit whined, red eyes meeting black. “We tried to get away. We tried to get out. And then— and then—”

Kit narrowed his eyes into a glare at Nathan. “You piece of shit! How do you think your brother would feel about you being a fucking Villain?! Supervillain of all people.”

“Kit, shut up,” Ambrose said, pushing him back against the wall. “For once in your life, just be quiet.”

“And you!” Kit said, tears welling up behind his eyes as he turned his attention to Ambrose. “You knew the whole time!”

“I didn’t, Kit. I swear. Don’t you think I would’ve told you?” Kit shook his head, slapping at Ambrose’s arms, his face, his shoulders. He grabbed the edges of Ambrose’s jacket and pulled him in, his lips curling back into a snarl that Ambrose almost recoiled at.

“No, no, no. Cause you’re a fucking liar,” Kit spat.

“You’re a monster, and you… you—” Kit said, but he couldn’t get the words out without crying, and so the tears fell over his cheeks, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at Ambrose, the realisation crushing everything in his chest, making it feel like his ribs were caving in on his heart and lungs. “I trusted you.”

Ambrose didn’t answer. Black eyes wide and hurt, and worried and it made Kit sick.

“I trusted you,” he said again, his voice coming out as barely more than a whisper through short, fretful breaths. “And look at what you’ve done to me. Look at what you did… I can’t— I can’t see straight, my powers are fucked, I lost my only family and now you’re going to make me lose my friends too? The only two in the world? How could you?”

Silence.

Hurt turned to anger and Kit launched himself off the wall, pushing Ambrose down and landing on top of him haphazardly, pushing himself to his knees straddling Ambrose on either side.

“HOW COULD YOU?!” He raged, spittle flying over Ambrose’s face, his blue eyes turning a startling red again and Ambrose thought that was it. He’d die there and then.

But just before the sparks erupted from Kit, an invisible hand grabbed him and slammed him against the wall, slamming the wind from his body. White hot stars burst behind his eyes as a crack sounded. Kit cried out as he fell like a rag-doll, his head and ribs taking the blow and burning. Kit howled, curling in on himself.

Fuck. Fuck, that was a rib.

Every breath was agony, but Kit still tried to push himself up, screaming and crying and raging all the while. Ambrose was on his feet, shouting at Nathan about something, his hand on Nathan’s wrist pulling it down.

Kit’s shaking arms faltered and he fell again with a startled breath onto his forearms, his screams dying to spine shuddering sobs, staring at the soft carpet below him. Twin streams of tears and snot and spit falling open as Kit wailed, pain seizing his mind and body but still he remained awake.

“I told you to leave him to me,” Ambrose snarled, shoving Nathan’s wrist away. Nathan inclined his head, smirking down at Ambrose.

“I think what you mean to say is thank you for not letting that kid fry my body to char, Nathan” Nathan said. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Ambrose turned his head to Kit who was openly sobbing now, babbling incoherently to himself and slamming his fists down against the floor every once in a while. It pulled at Ambrose’s heartstrings in a way it shouldn’t have. Kit was nothing to him, nothing. He was just some fucking dime a dozen Hero who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A warm hand on his cheek turned Ambrose’s attention back to Nathan, something hungry in his gaze, a muscle clenched in his jaw. “Thank you, Nate, you’d say, and I’d say anytime love, but it costs a kiss.”

Ambrose grabbed at Nathan’s wrist to push him off but Nathan’s grip tightened on Ambrose’s face, cupping his jaw in one hand, the other stretched towards Kit. Ambrose’s eyes widened as Kit’s screams increased in pitch until they were piercing and then another sudden crack broke through the air and Ambrose flinched, his heart hammering against his chest.

Nathan’s silver eyes didn’t leave Ambrose’s black the entire time, a smirk still present on his face though sinister now. A threat and a warning, and a knowing that he had Ambrose back where he wanted, at his mercy.

“Okay!” Ambrose hissed as Kit screamed again. “Okay! Just stop hurting him!”

Nathan lowered his hand and put it on Ambrose’s other cheek. “There. Was that so hard?”

Ambrose didn’t answer. Nathan ran his thumb along Ambrose’s bottom lip, his eyes flicking lazily to it, then to Ambrose’s eyes again, want shining desperately.

Ambrose swallowed hard. He didn’t… he swore he would never do this again, that he would never be under Nathan’s spell again. Max’s warning of not letting Nathan into his head again, under his skin, ready to do with him what he pleased because he knows Ambrose would go along with it.

Especially now, with Kit.

His weak point. And Nathan knew. How did he know? How did he know before even Ambrose knew?!

When did that happen? When did he start to think of Kit like he wasn’t just some hero to torture? Like he was something worth protecting, someone he cared for like an annoying little brother? When did his mind change from revelling in Kit’s misery, to doing the ONE THING he promised himself he would never do again, to make Kit’s misery stop?

Sure, he can torture Kit all he wants, but anyone else doing it was wrong. It felt wrong, and if his father— if his mother knew Kit, he knew she’d take him in like a second son too. Maybe, just maybe, in another world Kit and Ambrose could have been family. They could have been brothers.

The notion pulled ridiculously at Ambrose’s chest, and he was back staring at those horrible silver eyes. The enchanting twin pools of every vile thing imaginable.

“A kiss, Oskar,” Nathan whispered, leaning down to press one to Ambrose’s forehead, then his temple, his lips going to Ambrose’s ear. “A convincing kiss and I’ll stop hurting your little hero, hmm?”

Ambrose tightened his hands into fists. “I already said yes.”

“Oh, baby, no. You want something from it, you’re kissing me, not the other way around. I want to see just how much you’re willing to give for this kid.”

Ambrose hesitated, his index finger twitching as he waited, his heart slamming against his ribs. He couldn’t— he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t— fuck!

Nathan pulled back, his breath leaving Ambrose’s face, brows quirking. “No? Do you need some more convincing?” Nathan asked, raising his hand towards Kit again.

Ambrose didn’t think. He grabbed Nathan and turned them, shoving Nathan down onto the bed because Ambrose wasn’t leaning up on his toes to kiss the fucker. Nathan gasped, grinning like an idiot as Ambrose climbed on top of him, hands around his throat that he longed to squeeze.

“You look so hot when you want to murd—”

Ambrose captured Nathan’s lips in his before he could finish the sentence, swallowing it along with his pride, and the small part of him that died inside at kissing the most dangerous man he had ever known. Nathan smiled against the kiss, one hand on Ambrose’s waist while the other went to the back of Ambrose’s neck, pulling him closer.

Nathan lightly tugged at Ambrose’s hair, pulling his head back so he could tilt his head and deepen the kiss, which Ambrose allowed. It all came back so easy to him, remembering what Nathan liked and what he didn’t. The things he raved about, that drove him crazy when Ambrose did it to him.

Ambrose ground his hips into Nathan’s waist, eliciting a moan, which he swallowed, not allowing the bastard any space for breath, hoping to suffocate him. He drew back, biting at Nathan’s bottom lip and teasing it between his teeth as he drew back, planting kisses across Nathan’s jaw and down his neck.

Nathan laughed, his breath hitching when Ambrose found the spot he liked. Then the hand in his hair tightened again and pulled him back like a mother cat to a kitten, silver eyes meeting smouldering black.

Nathan’s fingers pinched Ambrose’s waist but he didn’t react. Nathan chuckled, his voice a little darker, coated with a amusing knowing. His hand trailed up Ambrose’s side, eliciting shivers as he went before cupping Ambrose’s cheek again. A long thumb smoothed across Ambrose’s cheek, just under his eye and pulled his eyelid down a little.

“Oh, Oskar. Haven’t you learned anything in my absence? What did we always say about showing people your hand, hmm? You care for this boy, for whatever reason, and I want to find out why.”

Ambrose stiffened above Nathan as he leaned up and pecked Ambrose’s lips again.

“I’ve missed you, Oskar,” Nathan said, softly as if it were a confession or a prayer. Everything about him; his voice, his smile, his dimples, his hair, his fashion, every except those eyes could make you forsake God for the sin that was the man laying under Ambrose.

“And I know you won’t just tell me why he’s struck a chord within you, so I think I’ll have to keep you both around to find out why.”

Ambrose’s expression hardened. “You can’t—” he began, retracting his hands from Nathan’s neck but Nathan didn’t let him, catching his wrists in his strong grip and holding them hostage.

“I think you know I can,” Nathan cooed. It had the opposite effect of reassurance, causing shivers down Ambrose’s spine.

“I don’t want this,” Ambrose spat, yanking his hands free from Nathan’s. He made to get off the bed but Nathan grabbed him by the waist, drawing his reluctant attention.

“We were made for each other, Oskar. There’s nobody in the world like us,” he said, voice almost pleading, yet still low and sultry, masking the desperation underneath. “I know you still feel this.”

Ambrose inclined his head stoically, cold black eyes running over Nathan’s face, searching for something that wasn’t there.

“I don’t.”

Ambrose pried Nathan’s fingers from his waist and lifted a leg up and over Nathan’s waist so he was just kneeling on the bed instead, moving towards Kit. Kit was motionless on the ground, his breathing shallowly inflating his back and hissing out again.

An anger rose in Ambrose, a helpless kind of anger that aroused when you witnessed something so horrific like a car accident, or hear of a young person’s death on the news. Anger at the world. Anger at Nathan. Anger at himself for not helping Kit sooner. Anger at Mentor. Anger at Kit for getting caught by Nathan. Anger at himself for getting pulled back into his ex’s web.

Ambrose felt a presence behind him, hands snaking around his waist, a breath against his ear. “You may not want me now, but you want Kit alive, don’t you?”

Ambrose tried not to let the words effect him, he really tried, but when Nathan pressed his lips to Ambrose’s throat he froze. Nathan smiled against his neck.

“See?” He murmured. “This is a mutually beneficial arrangement I’m offering Ambrose.”

Ambrose’s hands tightened into fists. “You can’t just make me love you.”

“Oh, darling.” The arms tightened around his waist, locking him in place. “You have no idea what I can do anymore. Besides, I have a hunch it was your hero who broke all of my windows, and I have killed people for less.”

“It’s not like you can’t just replace them, the windows don’t mean anything to you!” Ambrose huffed.

“Still,” Nathan teased, nipping at the side of Ambrose’s neck. “He destroyed something that was mine. A slight is a slight after all, Oskar.”

Nathan went back to kissing Ambrose’s neck again, trailing kisses up his jaw and over the side of his face, his cheeks, his cheekbone, the corner of his eye, his temple while Ambrose hesitated, considering any other way out of this situation.

He couldn’t compel Nate, but Nate couldn’t compel him either. Nate could compel Kit though, and who knows what kind of fucked up things ran through his mind.

“I missed your silence,” Nathan said. “It was always so profound, but it is taking a hair too long, darling, so I’ll sweeten the pot. I will keep you and Kit, and I will let his friends go free. Wipe their memories, make them forget, and when Kit wakes up you’ll be his hero.”

A knot tied itself at the base of Ambrose’s throat. What was he thinking?! Sacrificing himself for some kid he didn’t fucking know? His sanity?!

All tension left Ambrose’s body. Nathan smirked behind Ambrose. “Okay. Fine,” he replied, the words hard and thick in his throat.

“Wonderful,” Nate cooed, squeezing Ambrose tighter. “Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say those words.”

Ambrose didn’t want to know how long Nathan was waiting, so he just hummed, his eyes never leaving Kit’s back, watching his breaths rise and fall. Still alive.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

*~*~*~*~* A.N *~*~*~*~*

Hello, hello!! A little A.N. from me, I will not be continuing the weekly updates of this fic going forward, and it’s because the quality of the writing has rapidly declined and I don’t like what I’m putting out into the story — it’s not doing the story justice, because it feels like it’s floundering like a fish on a hook — it will be part of my regular uploads, but maybe every 1-2 weeks!!! I also feel like I can't edit it enough to have it up to scratch and it is slowly eating away at my brain and my motivation to write. The support for this story has been crazy, and I love that you guys like it so much, but I think for the story to be as good as it can be, this is what is best going forward - It also is draining me of creative flow that I want to put into my other fiction stories here! I hope you’re not too upset at this, but I think it is what is best for this story, the characters and myself — so thank you for reading :) enjoy!! this means I will be able to go back to regularly updating all my other fics that need to be dusted for cobwebs atm, like Heroic Betrayal, Defiant Leader, Vendetta (my beloved), etc.

TLDR; no longer weekly updates of this story, but it is still part of the regular update schedule - Which will give me more time to focus on my other stories here XD

*~*~*~*~*

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts

@whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @blood-enthusiast t @tippytappytyping @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump @acer-whumpstuff @fa1rie @jesterrinobutter @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @dutifullykrispyland @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @ehobep

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mimiriko · 5 months ago

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gojo x reader. reader is described wearing makeup & a dress. little writing exercise to stretch the old fingers!! mdni this is a 18+ blog.

Gojo has permanently finalised in his mind that his teenage years were the best time of his life.

Every memory is dipped into a thin film of honey, saccharine and sticky. The residue of his school life followed him into his adulthood as a sort of reference for his categorised “fun”. Something along the lines of loud karaoke, public stunts, or hours in gaming cafes.

Being above twenty has its perks though—he does feel more himself, strangely. It isn’t a product of intentional effort or self improvement, unlike Suguru, and yet the skin on him fits better. His voice sounds better on his ears and Suguru doesn’t have to help him flirt anymore.

But despite it, people and places and things that remind him of being seventeen years old again hold a special place in his heart. It’s a time capsule like no other.

That’s why, he thinks, he must be so attuned to you.

The bar is a personal favourite of his and Suguru’s. It’s dim enough for his eyes, and classy like those yakuza films they used to watch. High leather stools around a massive, circular counter; clinks of glasses and distant conversations blending into one another, mixing with the faint music playing overhead.

It’s not filled with sharp, neon lights and mobs of people like the clubs and bars he used to frequent when younger, but it’s lively enough to get him going. He doesn’t drink regularly and appreciates the decent length of non-alcoholic drinks offered too.

It also brings in the best women he’s ever seen.

You’re eyeing him. Almost shamelessly from the corner of the room, leaning slightly out of your seat at a booth. There’s someone opposite you, a tuff of black hair he can barely discern and it almost makes him visibly preen that you’re checking him out instead of the date in front of you.

He moves to make himself look better. He spreads his legs tastefully on the stool, making sure his thighs bulge a considerable amount against his black pants. (They fit him perfectly, he’s almost giddy he picked them for tonight.)

The whoever he was talking to prattles on about his business plan and the funds that he needs, and Gojo lifts his chin directly at him, hoping to give you a nice, clear view of his jawline. Sturdy and sculpted. The man stutters over his words, and he smiles widely at that too.

Over the next five minutes, he’s taken a total of three glances at your table over the hustle and bustle of people. Two times your attention was on him, the other was on the person you were with.

A win for me.

Being a homewrecker can feel like ecstasy at times. The thrill of it gives him a high like no other, similar to electricity zapping his nerves and singeing them black. He especially wouldn’t mind helping you cheat.

He doesn’t say it often, no one hardly deserves his praise, but you look good. Like those porn mags he used to jerk off to in high school, the same ones filling his drawer next to his underwear. On nostalgic nights he pulls out the earliest one he owns—the first mag he bought fresh as a fifteen year old, out of mere curiosity than anything.

He’d heard about it, the apparent sex on paper that had collections of girls who looked so ravishing with their lingerie sets on, so incredibly curated to whatever fantasy you liked that it was impossible not to buy them. Of course, in the throes of his multiple nannies and advisors, servants and guards, he couldn’t sneak any of them into his estate. His school life provided him that kind of freedom too.

And my god, did you look straight out of the earliest, most precious collection.

With your makeup done all dewy and pretty, the lights overhead accentuating the glitter across your eyelids; your hair styled best to frame your face with a delicate clip on the side, glimmering jewellery that brings your look altogether.

Your figure is hugged by deep red wine colored dress, and he thinks of how you would look standing and walking up to him, with your hips swaying and your eyes never leaving his.

His crotch area feels uncomfortable. There’s a lull in the talk he was half-heartedly having with the business man, and he figures there’s no point in keeping up an useless conversation.

He looks over to Suguru and sees him close, much too close with another woman. It gives him a boost of courage to smoothly manoeuvre himself until he’s facing you entirely.

Your eyebrows shoot up to the sky, and you look away shyly. Something in him yowls, splitting him with an ache. You would look so perfect between his teeth, skin soft for him to touch.

It’s been so long since he’s had such a teenage moment in his life. He’s never not been looked at, but never… this innocently. A cat and mouse game of who looks over first. Who catches the other first.

You converse while keeping your eyes on him, his body. There’s a look in your eye too, like you’re trying to figure him out. He can almost see a pout forming on your lips.

His fingers twitch.

He wants either you to come over, or the man to leave so he can slide in next to you and finally see you up close.

Suddenly, you stand up.

It’s so out of the blue that it knocks his heart to a faster pace. He puts an arm on the counter, leaning. A lazy smirk crawls its way on his face, and his eyes are alight behind his glasses, eager and restless.

You’re full of surprises because you interrupt his opening line altogether, and with curious, good-natured look, you ask,

“Excuse me but where did you get those pants? I think my boyfriend would like them.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojou x reader #🐇

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xkaidaxxxx · 7 months ago

Text

Murderer's in love

Dabi x reader

Mentions: Aggressiveness, Murder, l.o.v, Emos, Sex, Virgin Reader, squirting(simple), Fucked Dumb, Fluff ending.

“ y/n you will always be an orphan! You will never have parents who care about you! You will never experience a parent's love!” Momo yelled at you. The party was going very well, laughter, food, drinks, games, etc. Bakugou was playing Just Dance way too seriously with Mina and Jiro, Denki stuffing his mouth with food. Uraraka recorded everyone doing silly things.

You looked at Momo, “ W-What?” you said. “ Woah calm down.” Kirishima said. Izuku was thinking of a way to clear the tension. “ What’s gotten into you, Momo?” Tsuyu asked. You started crying. “ It’s the truth.” she replied and turned away. You weren’t about to let her get away with what she said and so you gripped her hair then made her fall to her knees. “ What are you going to do? Hurt me? I don’t think our friends would be happy about that.” she said. The smirk on her face made you even angrier. You dragged her outside. They followed. You had multiple quirks. This time you’re using them for evil.

All your life you were treated badly and being a hero you promised to help civilians have a peace of mind. With the money you make from being a Pro- Hero you're planning to open an orphanage and make sure children will be safe and being cared for.

You made Momo levitate in the air. “ Y/n whatever you’re going to do. Don’t do it!” Izuku yelled. Momo isn't the only one who can create things. You tied a noose around her neck. Everyone was too shocked to even move. They couldn’t believe their beloved friend was doing such evil. You tied the other end on a tree. You were crying. Crying in pain. You’ve had enough. Everyone ran to Momo except Katsuki who held you down to the ground. You struggled to move. You’ve had it. Enough is enough. “Hurry up Idiots!!!!!” Bakugou yelled. You started burning his arms. No matter how much they tried to untie the knot and bring her down they struggled like crazy. It wouldn’t undo. They’d have to beat you unconscious if they want to save her. Denki zapped directly at you. You yelled in pain. “ Sorry..but you’ve crossed the line.” Denki said. You snapped your fingers and she was let loose. You made sure she couldn’t save herself. You laughed with tears running down your face. Bakugou let you go. “ We will give you a 10 second head start,” he said. Ida ran to the station and informed what happened. Within seconds other heroes showed up and at a distance sirens were heard. You caused a very huge explosion causing the fire and with that cover up you left. You knew exactly where to go. Your old hideouts as a child. Very hidden.

You’re officially a murder. A villain. You manage to live. Stealing was easy. Food, electricity, even water. A distant hidden location. It looked like no one lived there when you first moved in. After a month and a half. Someone kicked open the room's door. “ We like the update. Get out. You’re in our turf.” a man with a touch of gray and blue hair said. He had hands over his body. He looked in his early 20’s ? You yawned getting up off the couch remembering him. “League of Villains…Shi-Shigaraki.” you spoke. You’re a little scared and nervous. “ I’ll kill you,” he said. “ Go ahead. I’m fine with it. I’ve lived enough in this shit world.” you responded. He hesitated. Every Villain has a hard past. “ Who would’ve thought a little mouse like you would end up here. A pro hero.?” Dabi asked. He gave you a teasing look. You know they want from you. Intel. “ You will tell us everything you know.” Shigaraki said forcing you to sit down. Toga stared at you and licked her lips. “ You think you can get to me just because I murdered a hero?” you said crossing your legs. “Well now we know the reason you disappeared!” Toga said, giggling afterwards. Dabi was eye fucking you. “Quit eye fucking me. You’re old.” you said. “I’m still in my 20’s babe.” he replied sitting next to you. “If you give us some answers…we’ll reward you.” Toga said. “ I don’t need money so good luck.” You replied. “ I’ll kill your family.” shigaraki said. “ You can forget about that one too.” You replied. They felt bad for you. No friends, No family. Nothing. They also had no family but at least they have each other.

A month went on by and they basically lived with you. You wiped your tears and then shook Dabi awake“ I can’t sleep…had a nightmare. Can..I sleep with you. Only for tonight?” You asked. “ Okay.” He replied. You immediately got into bed. You kept your distance. Dabi is a hugger and so in the middle of the night he pulled you to him. You both felt comfortable. You slept so well that night. Like a baby.

You woke up in his arms. Clinged onto him. “ You’re finally awake. Can you let go now. I woke up 2 hours ago. I tried to get you off but you’re very clingy and strong.” he said as you let go. “ Drink tea for nightmares…chamomile and Lavender helps.” He said. You started getting ready for the day. Once you were done, you walked downstairs seeing your fella villains. “ Why did you kill a classmate?” Toga asked. “ You ask me that every morning it's annoying.” you replied. “ Leave her alone Toga. After all it’s her Birthday..” Shigaraki ordered. You looked over. “How the hell do you know?” you asked, upset. “ Ua students can’t just roam around freely. I’m sure you still have information.” he said. “ I don’t have any information. You can interrogate me all you want and threaten to kill me but I have nothing.” you replied drinking water. “ Lets celebrate! You’re one of us now. We always celebrate each other's birthdays. I know it must be shocking for you.” Toga said smiling. Twice handed you a full bottle of Whiskey. You sighed and said, “Fuck it. Why not?” Shigaraki smirked. “ There’s more where that came from.” Twice said. “Happy 18th Birthday to me.” You said chugging the alcohol given to you. It’s your first time drinking. Tears slipped from your eyes. They all knew how you felt so they didn’t stop you. You eventually stopped and burped. “ Like it?” Dabi asked. You nodded. “ Strong but enjoyable.” “Toga go do your job for her special day.” Shigaraki ordered. “ My classmate always bullied me..I kept pushing forward…My class planned a party to relax… she just bursted on me. She said that I'll always be an orphan. That I will never have parents that care for me and their love. That was my last straw. I have multiple quirks and I can create more..I used them to hang her.” you said aloud. “ Your 1st murder always hurts you but eventually you’ll know that killing people is for a good reason sometimes.” Shigaraki said. Villains are emos for sure but they hide. Your birthday was surprisingly fun. They really care in their own way.

Months passed and you were getting close to dabi. Too close. You’re 18 legal of course but he’s 5 years older. You didn’t care because you were underneath him.

“ You sure you want this y/n?” he asked. You nodded. “Words little flame.” he said. “ Yes Dabi please. I’m ready.” you replied. He slowly slid his cock into you. You whimpered in pain gripping his arms. “ It’s okay. It will go away. Relax, please you’re going to break me.” he said, allowing you to adjust to him. He pecked your forehead. He started thrusting. Groaning in pleasure from how tight you were. He loved the feeling of your gummy walls sucking him right back in. He started fucking you hard. “ D-Dabi!” you yelled out as you felt immense pleasure. “It’s daddy now. Got that my baby girl.” he responded. He knew you wouldn’t last long. That won’t stop him from finishing. “Come on baby girl. Say it.” he ordered slapping your cheek softly. Your eyes rolled back with your back arched as you said, “Daadddyyy please.” He smirks, giving you what you desire. He was rough and fast. You gripped his arms and eventually left scratches all over his back. “S’close. Daddy.” you said legs spasming. “ Cum f’daddy baby. Make a mess.” he ordered. You came and squirted. A few more times as he kepted going. That only made Dabi chuckle and grow harder. Your juices were all over him and on the bed. After he played with you for awhile you were fucked dumb. He finished cumming.

He was planning to make you his since the moment he saw you. As he pulled out he noticed you were responding. He shook you softly. “ Passed out. I should’ve held back.” he said. You both developed feelings for each other. You guys wouldn’t have had sex. He knew you were a virgin and you wanted to lose it to someone you trust and like. He made you take a bath. You were too tired to even wake up. He also bathed.

The following day you woke up to him dressed in his usual clothes.. You sat up in bed feeling pain. “ Rest.” he ordered. You didn’t listen and got out of bed falling on the ground. You felt pain on your back and legs. “ What did I tell you Y/n. You need it. I’ll be taking care of you. You’re mine now. My girl.” he said, setting you back on the bed. “ I’m all yours and You’re mine.” You said smiling. “ Yes I’m yours y/n. You passed out on me last night. You didn’t even know we bathed together. It was a bit of a struggle but it worked out. I’ll make dinner for you. Something quick and yummy.” he said ruffling your hair. You fixed your hair shocked. “D-Dinner? What did you do to me?” you asked. “ I knew you would finish first. You came a few times. I needed to finish too. I overstimulated your body and you passed out by the time I came. You were great. I loved it. I hope you enjoyed your first time.” he replied. You blushed “ Yes I did. I didn’t think it would take a huge toll on me.” you replied. “ Sweetheart, I like it hard, rough, and fast. You’d obviously be tired and weak.” he replied, handing you a pain killer with bottled water. You swallowed the pill with the water. “ Hey..um..I know…I’m not much of an emotional dude in front of people..but with you.. I love you.” Dabi said while facing away from you. “ I love you too, idiot. Look at me please.” you said holding his hand. He faced you and you surprised him with a kiss. He returned it. The make out session started and it was full of passion.

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