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the-odd-shu · 23 days ago

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You're supposed to be sick, don't sass me

A continuation of lab shenanigans, and Hey Hextech

Masterlist

Next part:

Characters: Viktor, Jayce, Reader

(Pre - Jayce/Viktor/Reader) (POLYCULEEEE!)

A thread following the chaotic trio that is, laboratory illustrator!Reader, Viktor and Jayce being unsupervised in the lab.

Note; this takes place during season 1, and the reader is gender neutral with they/them pronouns.

Reader who started the day with an annoying cough, and a tickle in their throat, and slowly declined in energy throughout the day.

They come into the lab ten minutes after the boys, cradling a warm drink between chilled hands with their backpack slung over their shoulder. Viktor is already at the chalkboard drawing up a set of equations he thought up whilst at home last night, whilst Reader can hear Jayce in the kitchenette loudly stirring mugs.

"And what time do you call this?" Viktor drawled from the chalkboard, eyes practically sparkling with mischief as he glances at them over his shoulder.

Reader makes a show of looking at the clock hung above the chalkboard. The minute hand was exactly two past the hour, which was honestly pretty early for them, since they tended to roll up around five past on a good day. "I'd call it, right on time."

Viktor sighs in exasperation, and Jayce chooses then to come out of the kitchenette, a mug in each hand. "Oh, good morning. Are you ready to finish everything up for the deadline tonight?" He asks, like an unaware asshole (affectionate).

Reader's face goes through the five stages of grief. "Uh, deadline...?"

Jayce, like the unaware, workaholic he is, simply strides up to the chalkboard to hand Viktor his mug of sweetmilk, all whilst sprouting information about an enormous research paper they had been aware of, but knew still needed half a dozen sketches and polishing before it could be submitted.

"Ah." Reader says eloquently, which draws Jayce's concern. "I thought that was due in next week."

"I'm afraid not." Viktor interjects, voice uncharacteristically soft, as if he expects them to begin freaking out. Which prompts them to make a point not to, simply because he had been expecting it, and that man was right about too many things already.

They take in a deep, calming breath instead, and take a sharp drag from their warm drink. "Right then, time to clock in. No one look at me, breathe near me, or acknowledge me until it's done, got it?"

"Can I interrupt you to bring you drinks at least?" Jayce asked, expression totally serious.

They pause to think about it for a moment. "Only once I've done half of it, or I'm actively crying from eye strain. Whichever comes first really."

The day progresses. Reader gets on with their work, Jayce and Viktor get on with theirs'. At a glance, it seems like nothing is wrong.

But then when Jayce comes round with the drinks and begins insisting on a break, Reader becomes snappish with him. He notices that they keep alternating between taking off their uniform jacket, and dragging it back on and as well as their coat with increasing frustration. It isn't cold in the lab today, not to Jayce anyway, and yet he's fairly certain they're shivering. And what's even more concerning, is that Viktor doesn't even have goosebumps, which he is notorious for having, sometimes even with the heating on.

Reader who asks for a herbal tea during the break with a hoarse voice, instead of their usual caffeine monstrosity, which has Jayce's eyes widening in shock, and Viktor's head snapping up from his textbook, the pair exchange concerned looks from across the room.

Reader who has begun rubbing at their eyes, with a small frown, but continues to finish drawing after drawing of their assignments for that day.

Jayce being reluctant to step in, since he'd been conditioned with the spray bottle to offer help only when it was asked where his lab partners and their work were concerned. He reasoned that they were an adult anyway, and would no doubt step away from their desk when they truly reached the end of their tether.

Viktor who realises he is the one who is going to have to step in.

Reader who has just finished up yet another sketch, has moved it to the side with the others, and has taken up their pencil to begin another.

"That's enough for now. You need to take a break." Viktor tells them firmly, approaching their desk.

They sigh, pencil momentarily forgotten, as they rub at the bridge of their nose. Viktor couldn't help but notice just how exhausted they looked. Their complexion has severely deteriorated since they came in this morning. Eyelids heavy, movements sluggish.

"You know I can't, V. We have Councilor Medarda coming in the morning, and the sketches for this proposal need to be completed in time to be scanned onto the paper."

"Maybe, but you've already done most of them. We can get by with a sketch or two less than usual."

"I have no doubt you could, but that doesn't mean you should."

"Y/n-"

"Just leave it! Please? The sooner I get these done, the sooner I can go home."

Viktor sighed. "You know we won't hold it against you if you're a day behind-"

"Oh, don't be a hypocrite, Viktor." They interrupted him, tone sharper than he is used to hearing from them. "Just last week, Jayce had to bribe you out of the lab when you went on a sixteen hour deep dive into some theory you had."

With a tight snort, they turned away to pick up their pencil.

Viktor's brows furrowed as his grip tightened on his cane. "Don't be cranky with me."

"Then leave me alone to work." They tiredly replied, "you're in my light."

A heavy sigh from Viktor as he pointedly does not step out of their light. "Jayce, hit the lights."

The sheer absurdity of the command, gives Reader pause.

"Wha-what? I am literally doing this for your paper?" They try to complain, time within which Jayce had diligently crossed the lab and has flicked off the lights, then he's heading in the opposite direction to the windows, where he begins to draw the blinds.

Reader lets out a hysterical little laugh. "You two are so weird sometimes."

Jayce comes back to their desk, a big shadow amongst the silhouettes of the desks and lab equipment. Perhaps this wasn't their smartest idea to go blind in a science lab of all places, but Viktor reasoned it was the only way to get Reader to physically stop doing their job.

"Right, pick something to work on for the next few hours," Viktor says to Jayce, "I'll email Councilor Medarda that we need more time, then we're heading over to Y/n's place."

"Excuse me? When did I invite you over?!"

"When you started being a brat." Viktor returns easily, before spinning on his heel and carefully navigating his way back to his desk. His eyes are already pretty much adjusted so it's not too much trouble.

Reader groans. "You're not listening to me." They complain. "I can push through and get it done for the deadline tonight. I'm just a little tired."

"I am sure you could." Viktor replies. "But as a hypocrite, I must remind you that your health comes before any work you need to do or complete."

Jayce approaches Reader's desk, steps loud and audible so they won't get jumpscared by him. With care, he takes the pencil from their hand and sets it down on the stack of papers waiting to be completed. "V is right."

"Not you too Jayce."

"No, listen. The deadline is nowhere near as important as your health. You'd done a lot of work already, more than enough, so let's just leave it at that today."

Reader glares at him. "The next time one of you gets a cold, I don't want to hear any shit about me being overbearing."

Jayce smiled, and Reader immediately crumbles.

With a heavy sigh, they sit back in their chair. "Fine. But you cannot say I didn't try to get this done."

Basically, they bully Reader into leaving the lab early. They're reluctant to go, so the boys decide 'fuck it, lets take some work and go back to Reader's place to make sure they get some rest'.

Cue the boys going to work in the living room after herding Reader to their room and ordering them to take a nap.

A nap which morphs into fitful sleep, as Reader's body steadily declines. They begin coughing full force. Tossing and turning. Getting too hot. Then abruptly shivering from how cold it suddenly gets. Getting up to pee. Checking the time, before going back to bed. Briefly resurface for pain meds. Realise that time has BAREKY moved since they last checked and now they're just BORED! They try to go back to sleep again.

Reader can feel themselves getting sicker as their voice begins to strain and hurt, but their mind is still active.

They have weird fever dreams. They keep waking up, and not really knowing where they are.

Jayce and Viktor are passed out in the living room when Reader cracks open their bedroom door, suddenly ravenous for food, and wrapped in a heavy blanket with bare feet. They pad down the hall of the flat to the kitchen, where they pull bread out of the cupboard and begin wolfing it down slice by slice. Somehow it is EXACTLY what they wanted to eat. Just solid enough to feel nice on their sore throat, without aggravating it further. Their throat is shot from coughing, tight and uncomfortable with every swallow, but their hunger wins out over the pain.

Then they shift their attention to the medicine cupboard, pulling down a new brand of painkillers and filling a glass of water to wash it all down.

They dread dragging themselves back into that sweaty bed, envisioning more hours of boring tossing and turning. Of throwing the covers off when the heat threatened to boil them, all before scrambling to drag them back and hunker down when the coolness became frigid.

Instead of going back to their bedroom, they drag their ass into the living room, where their co-workers are passed out on the couches. The couches THEY want to curl up on and catch some sleep. Jayce - as always - was taking up the entirety of his, whilst Viktor was sat upright, feet on the floor with his head thrown back and resting on the backrest, which couldn't have been comfortable for his neck.

Deciding that Jayce was in too deep of a sleep to even attempt at waking, Reader shuffles over to Viktor and lightly nudges his good foot with their toes. His head rolls towards them, eyes fluttering open to frown up at them.

"What is it?"

"Got bored."

He scoffs. "Only you could get bored of being sick."

They shrug. "I need a change of scenery." They explained, before sliding a hand out from beneath their blanket cloak to motion to the couch beside him. "Can I sit there?"

Viktor glanced down at the empty expanse of couch. "Wouldn't you prefer to lay down?"

"Are you offering up your lap as a pillow?"

His brows jumped up to his hairline at the bold question. And if they had been in their right mind, they might have rapidly backpedalled and tried to pass it off as a joke. But as they were, tired and waiting for the painmeds to dull the ache in their skull, they didn't have the energy to spare to save face. Besides, they knew that Viktor was the kind to jab someone with his cane rather than allow them to make him uncomfortable.

"I suppose." Viktor said after a long moment of drawn out thought.

"Great. Thanks." They replied before crawling onto the couch cushion, curling up on their side whilst pulling the blanket more fully over them and plopping their head into his lap. Luckily, most of their face landed on his good leg rather than the one encircled in the brace, but either way, Viktor didn't protest. Almost immediaely, they could feel themselves relaxing into the comfort of the couch, as a hesitant, nimble hand gently lowered itself to their temple. With an absent hum, Viktor checked their temperature before letting his hand card through their sweat damp locks.

Again, they can't find it in themselves to care, their cheeks burn with fever, and yet goosebumps erupt up their forearms. They can feel themselves shivering, even under the blanket.

"-get them anything?" Jayce's voice filters in as their mind begins to resurface from weird dreams consisting of drawings that walked off of pages and a disturbing version of Jayce with no eyebrows.

"A cool flannel perhaps." Viktor's voice rumbles from somewhere closer to their ears. The gentle slid of fingers against their aching temple feels strangely soothing. "And some more painkillers with a glass of water."

"On it."

Footsteps pad away from the couch.

Groggily, Reader peels an eyelid open to find the curtains to the living room drawn against the strong sunlight, leaving the room comfortably dim.

"Finally awake, I see." Viktor muses, his hand carefully pushing their hair away from their forehead.

Jayce comes back into the living room. His jacket and boots off.

Viktor encourages Reader to roll onto their back, their head still comfortably pillowed in his lap. Jayce sets the glass of water and the pills on the coffee table, before kneeling down beside the couch. With careful, broadcasted movements, he lays the cool flannel over Reader's sweaty brow, who shivers at the feeling. The coldness is refreshing, even as it has their forearms to erupt into goosebumps.

"I'm surprised V let you lay here for so long. His bedside manner is usually atrocious."

"It's because I was given no choice." Viktor carefully corrected.

Reader huffs out a weak laugh. "I didn't say it out loud, but he could probably tell it was either let me lay down or he'd find himself on the floor."

"You would not have been able to wrestle me to the carpet in your current state." Viktor corrected sharply. "You looked like death warmed over."

"And I felt like it." Reader agrees. "Just admit it V, you've got a soft spot for me."

Jayce is watching them bicker with fondness in his eyes. Knelt beside the couch, he carefully peels up the flannel, flips it over and reapplied it to Reader’s forehead, who sighs in relief at the freshness.

Viktor's brows loosen ever so slightly as they melt back down into his lap. "I certainly do not hate you." He said, sounding like he was compromising, rather than simply agreeing with them.

"And THAT is as good as a declaration of friendship coming from you."

He tutted, and then shifts. "Up. My leg is stiff and I need to walk around."

"But I'm comfortable."

"Too bad. I've tolerated your thick head for several hours too long."

Jayce helps sit them up, Viktor grabs his cane and hauls himself up with a deep, pained groan, his brace's gear grinding and clicking as his joint turned. He stays looming over the couch for a few moments, testing his leg, whilst Jayce gets Reader a cushion to lean against instead.

I like to think that they take it in turns to bully each other into self care. So if someone gets ill, or burnt out, the other two become makeshift nursemaids and threaten and blackmail them into going home to rest for a bit. Following them home if it is required of them.

I also know in my bones that Jayce is the kind of dumbass to be too cuddly with someone who was sick with 9/10 lands him the same illness a matter of days later, and the cycle continues.

Next part

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heartfullofleeches · 5 months ago

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[Suggestive]

Carnis [Cow Hybrid Yan] with a lab assistant reader who was added onto the team that created the cow shortly before the project was terminated with the sole task of being a glorified babysitter for them. Assistant Reader wasn't given all the memos on what to do and not when they're around Carnis so day by day they expose the hybrid to more of their life outside of work.

Carnis likes Assistant Reader. They like them a lot. They're different from the other scientists- Carnis cares about Reader, but it's different from way they care for the one scientist they view as a mother. Their body feels... strange whenever they're near Reader. It's hot, burning - especially when Reader removes their lab coat. Carnis doesn't understand these urges- In all their twenty something years in the lab, nobodies ever told them how to deal with something like this. Reader must know- They're a smart human. The best human. Cares likes Reader a lot. They love them. Reader will help Carnis because they care about them too- They said so.

"It.. It hurts....When I think about you. I...I don't.. I don't know what's wrong with me. C...can you fix me?"

Reader knew they weren't telling Carnis about everything that goes on in the world, but this?- Carnis gets so frustrated when Reader isn't at work they take it out on the other scientists. Biting, scratching- Carnis was among the more docile hybrids until Reader was added on. They're also the hybrid with the most successful results so Reader becomes a permanent stable in the lab just to keep them happy and willing to be poked and prodded.

There's still the issue of their...needs.

Scientist: The subject has been mostly cooperative throughout the years until you came along. They saw someone with your hair color and proceeded to bite their hand off once they realized they had the wrong person. Long story short, you need to get in there and fulfill their sexual needs before the next round of tests in an hour.

Assistant Reader: I'm not gonna do that! There's a giant window outside their bedroom!

Scientist: We'll put up some curtains.

#Carnis my oc #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere hybrid #scientist reader

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pascaloverx · 2 months ago

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HAUNTED

Summary: You awaken from a two-year coma to find that Detective Lois has been eagerly awaiting your recovery, believing you might have witnessed something crucial to catching a serial killer. What you didn’t expect is to learn that she suspects your doctor of being the murderer—and even more shockingly, it appears that you are married to him. Now, you must uncover your lost memories and find out who Charlie Mayhew truly is to you.

Author's Note: Yes, I'm writing another fanfic featuring Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s character from Grotesquerie. The characters belong to the universe created by Ryan Murphy in the series Grotesquerie (2024). This fanfic will include violence, strong language, and adult content. It will portray the character Charlie Mayhew as a doctor. I hope you enjoy the fanfic, but there's nothing certain about its future.

PREVIEW TWO

ONE

The tension in your hospital room is palpable, Detective Lois and Dr. Mayhew locking eyes as if each were ready to strike. You’re bewildered, unsure of whom or what to believe. But one thing is clear: Dr. Mayhew is your husband. He appears to be the quickest path to recovering your memory—even though Lois seems convinced he’s the reason you’re in this condition.

“Detective Tryon, as eager as you are to drag a statement out of my wife, she’ll be of no use to your scheme of blaming me for your incompetence,” Dr. Mayhew says, running a hand through his hair with a clear hint of tension. “She remembers nothing, and your persistence will only confuse her further.” He sighs heavily, while Lois watches him with a mocking smile, as if her patience has completely worn thin.

“Your performance is so convincing. You must have taken acting lessons at some point in your life,” she says, stepping toward him with a threatening air. “I can’t allow you to harm this woman before she has the chance to tell the world who you really are.”

“Enough!” you exclaim, frustrated by their bickering. Both turn to you, their expressions shifting to something like concern. “Detective Tryon, I appreciate your efforts to keep me safe. But if this man truly is my husband, that must mean something,” you say, almost on instinct. Perhaps you’re being foolish, even hasty. But there has to be something to this. Taking a risk is all you have left—now that you don’t even belong to yourself.

"Are you really willing to risk your life to be near this man, Y/N?" Detective Tryon holds your arm, her grip nearly desperate, as though trying to pull you away from Dr. Mayhew. The force of it makes you uncomfortable, and you wince, letting out a low sound of pain.

“Release my wife, Detective,” Dr. Mayhew snaps, his tone finally sharpened, his calm composure cracking. “I remind you that if we report your misconduct to your superiors, your entire baseless case will fall apart.” He steps between you and Lois, his hands slipping into his lab coat pockets, the stance a clear challenge.

"What would truly please you, right?" Lois challenges, staring straight into Dr. Mayhew's eyes. You watch them silently, still feeling the ache in your arm where Lois had grabbed you.

"Would you like to know what would actually please me?" Dr. Mayhew whispers, moving closer to Lois. "I’d be pleased to have my wife with me again, without the interference of a lunatic so obsessed with her own failures that she needs to ruin my life just to sleep at night. Careful, Lois. You’re becoming obsessed with me." You're uncertain of his intentions, but the authoritative tone in his voice and the way he carries himself is undeniably alluring.

Lois narrows her eyes, her expression darkening as Dr. Mayhew moves closer, his tone laced with mockery and barely concealed venom. “Is that so, Dr. Mayhew? Obsession, you call it?” she scoffs, a bitter smile playing on her lips. “Let’s not confuse dedication to justice with obsession. But perhaps you’re simply too accustomed to manipulating the truth to recognize it when you see it.”

You watch the exchange, torn between skepticism and an undeniable draw toward him. Despite the sharp edge in his words, the way Dr. Mayhew stands his ground, unyielding and unafraid, stirs something within you. Even as his gaze shifts to meet yours, there’s an intensity there that unsettles yet captivates you—a magnetic pull that defies reason.

“Why not focus on your own affairs, Detective,” he murmurs, his eyes still on you, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, “and let my wife and I… reconnect. Unless, of course, you’ve truly no other purpose in your life than meddling in mine.”

Your confidence is remarkable, Charlie," Lois remarks. "Mrs. Mayhew, if you need me for any reason, here’s my number. I’ll also be visiting again soon to see if there’s been any progress in your memory recovery." She hands you a card with her contact information, then smirks mockingly at Dr. Mayhew. "And don’t worry, Charlie, I’ll let Megan know you’ll be unavailable." With that, she finally exits your hospital room.

Charlie stares at you, irritation burning in his gaze. "Do you believe her?" Dr. Mayhew demands, advancing toward you with sudden intensity. You feel as if the air is being drawn from your lungs with his nearness, his gaze piercing. "Honestly, I don’t know whom to believe," you murmur, leaning back against the hospital bed behind you, your eyes locked onto his.

"Fine!" he exclaims, voice laced with indignation. He turns to leave, but then hesitates, his hand lingering on the door frame as if torn between staying and leaving. After a tense pause, he steps back inside, his tone shifting from anger to something raw and vulnerable.

"Y/N… if you can’t trust me, then at least remember what we once were. Remember the promises we made." His voice drops to a murmur, almost pleading. "I’m not the monster she’s painting me to be." The intensity in his words sends a shiver down your spine, leaving you more conflicted than ever as he finally, reluctantly, exits the room. What makes it all worse is that neither of them is truly thinking about you. Neither one noticed that you’ve only just discovered your own name, that you're lost and confused. They don’t see that you don’t want to be manipulated—you want to be understood.

“You are like him…” you murmur, recognizing that you’re no longer in your hospital room. Everything around you is intensely white—the walls, the bed you're seated on, every corner spotless and untouched. A cross hangs on the wall behind the priest, casting a shadow that flickers slightly, as if from candlelight. The room feels steeped in something sacred, almost otherworldly, like a faint echo of a memory stirring within you. The priest looks at you with a serene expression, though there’s an unmistakable weight behind his gaze. As he steps closer, the almost sacred atmosphere around you amplifies the tension. You try to process the overwhelming resemblance to Dr. Mayhew—even the contours of his face are identical, but the priest’s shorter, more traditional hairstyle highlights the difference. Your mind wavers between doubt and recognition, as if your subconscious is trying to unveil something long forgotten.

“You keep searching for answers outside yourself, yet everything you need lies within,” he murmurs, his deep voice echoing through the room like a quiet revelation.

“Father, I don’t know. I don’t know what to do, what to feel,” you whisper, your voice breaking as you meet his gaze. Tears slip down your cheeks, and a quiet, aching desperation fills the space between you. The priest, unmoved yet tender, holds your gaze.

“Faith moves mountains, and as long as it resides within you, you will be safe,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle command that resonates deeply. “Find your faith, and you will know what—and whom—to believe.”

Despite the haziness, a strange comfort wraps around your heart, soft yet unexplainable. His words, laced with a familiar warmth, guide you into a calm acceptance, though the reason remains unknown. Then, leaning closer, he whispers in your ear, “Now, kneel and seek forgiveness.” Almost instinctively, you find yourself on your knees before him, grasping the folds of his robe at his knees, your head bowed as though in reverence.

“Father, forgive me,” you whisper, your head bowed. His fingers lift your chin gently, compelling you to meet his gaze. “How can I grant you absolution, when your hands are stained with blood, my sweet sinner?” he murmurs, lowering his face near yours, his breath warm against your ear, sending a chill down your spine.

You’re shocked, frozen beneath his intense gaze, but unable to break away. As you glance down, horror floods your senses—you see your hands smeared with blood. Stumbling backward, you gasp, eyes wide in disbelief. The priest rises from the bed, stepping slowly toward you with an unwavering gaze, a faint trail of blood marking his face. You’re overwhelmed with fear, a scream building in your throat until it finally erupts, piercing the silence. And then—just like that—you awaken from your haunting dream, heart racing, as the unsettling remnants of the nightmare fade into the dim light of your hospital room.

Dr. Mayhew, startled awake in the chair beside your bed, immediately reaches for you. “Hey, Y/N, are you alright?” he asks, his voice filled with concern as he stands and wraps you in a firm embrace. His arms encircle you with a warmth that feels protective, grounding you in the present moment, as if he’s trying to shield you from whatever haunted you.

“I… I had a nightmare,” you whisper once you catch your breath, the tension beginning to ease as you lean into his hold. And everything feels like déjà vu. Just like before, you wake from a nightmare involving the priest, and once again, Dr. Mayhew is by your side. You can't help but wonder if there’s a connection between his presence and the terrifying, bloody dreams that haunt you each night.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Dr. Mayhew murmurs softly, his hand tracing gentle circles on your back, his touch soothing. The warmth of his embrace gives you an unexpected feeling of lightness, as though he’s holding you together amidst the lingering fragments of your nightmare.

“Can we leave this place?” you ask, your voice trembling as you try to stifle the tears that have flowed since you woke. He holds you a little closer, and you feel a subtle tension in his grip, as if considering your question carefully.

“We will, soon,” he assures, his tone steady, though a flicker of something unreadable passes over his face. “For now, rest. I’ll be here.”

"Stay here; I need you to answer me—while looking into my eyes," you insist, tugging at Dr. Mayhew's clothes, almost dislodging his tie. Though he’d intended to return to the hospital chair, he remains by your side, his gaze steady yet guarded.

“Will you even believe my answer?” he asks softly, his voice carrying a hint of doubt, as though unsure anything he says would hold weight with you. His eyes search yours, wary yet attentive, as if weighing what he’s willing to reveal.

"You'll have to take the risk and believe that I will," you say softly, though you're unsure if you can truly trust anything he says. Dr. Mayhew's hand reaches gently to touch your face, but you instinctively pull back, murmuring, "I’m sorry."

“Ask me whatever you wish, Y/N,” he says, his voice tinged with impatience, perhaps confused by your conflicting actions—clinging to him, pulling him closer, yet retreating from his touch. You, too, are struggling to understand what you’re feeling, torn between wanting him near and pushing him away.

“Do you love me?” you ask, your gaze unwavering, trying to find answers in the depths of his eyes. His stare holds yours, as if the question should be irrelevant, as if he has already shown you everything you need to know. His expression softens, but the weight of his response carries something more.

"I’m your husband, Y/N," he replies, his voice steady, but there's an intensity in his eyes, a depth of meaning that you can’t ignore. "Doesn't that answer everything?" His words hang in the air, thick with unspoken emotion, and for a moment, you wonder if the truth lies somewhere in the space between his claims and the confusion that churns in your heart.

"Answer me, Dr. Mayhew, do you love me?" you ask, using a more assertive tone, making it clear that you are not satisfied with his previous answer. He smiles, as if he can't believe it. "I love you, Mrs. Mayhew. I would die for you if necessary," he responds confidently. His eyes are fixed on you, as if waiting for something.

"Then even if the truth disappoints me. Even if you think it's going to hurt me, I need you to be honest. About these murders, about Megan, about everything." You speak firmly, staring into his eyes.

Dr. Mayhew's expression hardens as you mention the two things he surely wishes you would forget. For a moment, he looks at the hospital room wall without saying anything. "Honesty is a double-edged sword. As you inflict it on someone, someone can inflict it on you," his gaze darkens, his demeanor heavy, almost demonic. "If honesty is what you want; honesty is all you'll get."

He stands up, lifting his face to yours, now standing directly in front of you. "You think the truth will set you free, but sometimes it only binds you to something far worse," Dr. Mayhew says, so close to your face it feels as though he's about to kiss you. His words are heavy, yet his gaze is devilishly captivating. For a moment, you sense that he's savoring the expression of fear in your eyes. "Then let the truth bind us both, if that's what we deserve," you reply, challenging him, even though a part of you trembles with fear.

He straightens his coat, his hand running through his hair with a sharp, almost angry gesture, as though attempting to pull himself together. "Rest, Y/N. The truth will find its way to you, sooner or later. But I can promise you this: I am, and will always be, honest with the woman I love—even if she doubts me." With those words, Dr. Mayhew places a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, a gesture of tenderness. Then, without another word, he exits your hospital room, leaving you in a heavy silence.

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keferon · 1 month ago

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You all flatter me! Now I am all pumped up to continue on the TF mecha au train. Ratchlock has me in a chokehold. You can't compliment me like that, It goes to my head! I haven't writen anything in like 12 years 😭. Also Yes yes to all the angst. I thrive on it more then the fluffy moments. Jazz and Deadlock/Drift are lining up nicely for a possible meeting. But first Deadlock WILL bath in blood! Wanna see?

****

Ratchet will not let Deadlock follow him around. Nope. Instead he keeps Deadlock on strict bed rest /he's learning human terms in his free time/ with the oh so sweet promise to weld him to the wall if he doesn't listen. He knows better to not test Ratchet, he'd do it no hesitation. Deadlocks fangs and claws only cause a raised eyebrow and wave of a slipper near well... anywhere in Ratchet's swating or throwing range. Since both of them honor their word/glyphic, they made a deal that if Ratchet comes home on time then in return Deadlock will be on his best behavior.

They use every extra moment together to learn, heal, and plot together. Deadlock's wounds are fully healed by now. He is ready to be the guardian knight he vowed to be for Ratchet. Ratchet's knuckles still ache which makes his hands shaky at times, especially when cold, but his squishy perseveres like a true warrior. Deadlock has learned that revving his engine to build up heat and letting Ratchet rest against his chassis helps with those trimmering aches the bioengineer tries to rub out.

He wants to give any comfort he can to Ratchet while he's working in that cursed lab with those ungreatful sacks of slags. He has photos of each one of those fraggers saved in his proccesor. The list only grows the longer they wait to leave. If he can work around Ratchet somehow, he'll cross them off at some point with a deep satisfaction while doing it. Ratchet has been as sly as a turbofox. He's been sidestepping, talking around, and out ranting the higher ups for a while. Deadlock is so proud of him for not backing down or falling silent. Right now Deadlock has the tv playing a sitcom while tinkering with his long range blaster. His audial fins flick as the door opens and closes. Ratchet looks at the show while shrugs his winter coat off, "So has Sam confessed his undying love to the ice cream vender Carly yet?" Ratchet asks walking over to the lazy-e-boy chair.

Deadlock reaches out and taps his back before he can sit down. "Refuel first." He reminds him before going back to tightening some wires. He smiles at the grumble and is pleased when Ratchet listens to him for once and heads to the kitchen, "and no the episode ended with him getting hit by a waste disposal truck. Now it's a filler episode. Jack is trying to get out of going to an Amica Endura's beach party. He is playing up a illness called the pox."

Ratchet comes back with a warm plate of food. Deadlock nods pleased with the portion. Ratchet rolls his eyes and sits down, "They did that same plot with Raphael four seasons ago." He grumbles and bats at Deadlocks claw when he tries to ruffle his hair, "If they drag this out for three episodes like last time I am popping in a different show." Both are content, they banter and complain about the show while Ratchet eats. When Ratchet reclines his lazy-e-boy chair Deadlock puts his weapon away, "They are transferring some of us to a different base in the morning. You know First Aid. They are putting him on a transport to the sister base north east of here. Called the Alpha Blade Strikers."

Deadlock tilts his helm, "That's the one that was visiting here? The commander of that base is the one you knocked out for slagging you off right? You mentioned the base being cursed." He asks leaning forward a bit, his servos tingling for revenge.

"Yes, same place and person. Don't believe in any of that cursed stuff but a lot of talk does go around about it. Mostly one pacific mecha being the main cursed object. First Aid was stressed to tears about being transferred. He had just gotten comfortable here with his friends. I feel a bit bad for the kid." Ratchet mumbles rubbing his face with his unbandged hand.

Deadlock gives a soft smile, "From what you've told me, he keeps his helm down. I am sure he will find friends or leave when he can. But if you are worried I am not opposed to taking him with us."

"We do not kidnap people, Drift. He wouldn't want to come along anyways. He wants to 'do his part for human kind'. Besides it takes him a while to get use to change and the possibility that we may be hunted down once we leave would most likely send him into cardiac arrest." Ratchet tilts his head back gives Deadlock a stern look, "On the topic of leaving we'll need to do that sooner then planned. Something isn't right, I don't like how hyper focused Pharma has gotten with quintessons corpses. Now he is showing intrest in you. He wants to know how I programmed a mecha to be powered by an AI system so flawlessly. It's driving him up a wall to not know. You know, since a mecha has never moved around without a pilot and can not talk. He keeps begging the higher ups to let him 'partner up with me' or let him take over the 'project' since I am just 'playing around with you'."

"Right fine. No kidnapping the youngling. But do not assume we will be the ones being hunted." Deadlock hums amused but turns serious when Pharma is brought up. That name is at the top of his 'don't let Ratchet catch on' splat list, "But me being 'imprinted' on you is keeping them from letting him get his quintessons gut covered servos... Err hands sorry, on me."

Ratchet nods rubbing his face again with a tired sigh, "I made certain they know you'll attack anything that isn't me." Deadlock can tell Ratchet is fighting a yawn. He lays down behind the chair and rumbles his engine. Ratchet's lips twitch with a smile hearing how smooth it's running now, "Pharma has never been a good listener though. Just be on guard okay kid... he's ploting something." Ratchet mumbles soaking up the heat coming from behind him. He tilts his head back against the head rest looking up at Deadlocks handsome, smug, sharp fanged grin, "He tries touching you, you can kill him. Don't let him into your system. I fear what he'd do. Probably make you even more loony and unbearable." The bioengineer yawns his voice full of fondness that makes Deadlock's spark sing.

Deadlock purrs as he gently pets Ratchet's head with a, claw retracted, digit. Ratchet's eyes grow heavy missing the most feral, down right demonic, energon hungry look Deadlock has at the permission to off Pharma, "He will not harm me. But I can tell he has worn on you today. You are more drained then grumpy, your insults are lacking any heat. Recharge Ratchet. I will reconfigure our supplies and time line while you regain your strenght. Then I'll show you in the morning. You can edit it while you fuel." He chuckles as Ratchet grumbles and mumbles at him. His squishy can't fight the cozy warmth and soothing pets. Deadlock's humming engine makes a familiar white noise that has grown to mean safe to Ratchet. In no time Ratchet is out cold. Picking up a blanket with a careful pinch he lays it on top of Ratchet and follows him into recharge.

-- --

They are so close to leaving. They have a place picked out and a time. Their supplies are packed and hidden away with a close friend of Ratchet's. The thing still keeping them on base is Ratchet's need to clear out all of his research. He doesn't want anyone to have anything of his, to have a chance to twist it into something that would cause more harm and death. It's been a tedious process but Ratchet has been deleting his work bit by bit so no one catches on.

Four days before their chosen leave date Ratchet walks into his lab only to be escorted to a debriefing room. One he has have never been to. Deep under the base. He had tried getting anyone to speak up about what's happening but the escorts, six of them for fuck sakes, don't even look at him. His gut instinct is screaming DANGER the deeper they go. His skin is crawling with uneasiness and he is fighting his fight then flight instincts. He taps at the small circler tracker he has in his winter coats collar as subtly as possible. Hoping it looks more like a nervious tick then a trigger to call for help. Hopfully they aren't to far down for it to work. The group stops at a vault door and Ratchet cuts off a growl growing in his throat when one of the 'escorts' pulls out some heavy duty cuffs. "Tell me what reason you have for those or their not going on Spike." He warns fists clenching at his side. He huffs at the click of a gun and someone has the balls to press it into his back.

The young soldier, Spike, frowns and waves his hand at the others behind Ratchet, "Ratchet please it's just procedure. You have saved a lot of our lives don't make us be rough. We don't want to be. Just put them on so I don't get yelled at later." Ratchet narrows his eyes, frown tightening. Spike groans, "I don't know what they want. No one told us anything. Please I am just doing what I was told."

Ratchet can tell Spike is holding his breath, pleading silently for Ratchet to listen. Ratchet does let a growl slip when the guns barrel grinds into his spine. His head snaps around and he glares hard enough to cause pause, "Cut that out, I know exactly how far to shove that to not kill you but make damn sure you wish I did." He snarls as he holds his wrists up to Spike. The comment earns him muffled chuckles and a few glares. Cuffs on Ratchet walks into the room. Spike shoots him an apologetic look as the door closes behind him. With a heavy exhale Ratchet takes in the room. A concrete floor, circular shaped room with thick metal walls. Cameras line the ceiling edges. His exhale catches in his throat as the metal walls start rolling up to reveal bullet proof glass filled with quintessons in various stages of dissection and tests. "We have another sublevel secret lab bellow our sublevel secret lab. Of course we do." Ratchet mumbles flatly to pissed off he didn't know this base was more fucked up then he thought then to be scared.

Speakers crackle on and an annoying whine comes through, "Not the reaction I was hoping for. Come on Ratch buddy show a bit more emotion then that. Less grump more begging maybe? At least shock." Pharma's voice chimes around him in an irritating way.

"Looks like all of this has been going on for a while. Why bring me into this now Pharma?" Ratchet says calmly since that seems to piss Pharma off more. He looks at his cuffed wrists and his blood runs cold as the hair on his neck stands on end. Goosebumps cover his arms making him shudder under the heavy coat, "I am not here for shop talk."

"Mmhmm, I am going to miss that snarky brain of yours Ratchy. But you did do a lot of things that put the base in danger. Security has taken notice of a lot of data, intel, cameras and video footage being tampered with." Pharma almost has a mocking sing songy tone to him. Strange, Ratchet knows he didn't tamper with anything that would jeopardized the security of the base. Definitely not the cameras or video footage, "You know what you've done and what we do to traitors. I already have received the ok to take over your work. The good commander is allowing me to say goodbye to you since we were such good old friends. Don't worry. I'll take good care of your Mecha." Yeah, Pharma sounds real choked up about all this, Ratchet rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, he'll take care of you Pharma." Ratchet keeps his tone and body language nonchalant as he studies the cuffs. He takes note of the little bit of gap, if he dislocates his thumbs.. "Only thing that's annoying about all of this is I'll be late getting home."

"I swear you are boring me to death on purpose Ratchet!!" Pharma snarls as a thud noise rings through the speakers

"Oh could I be so lucky?" Ratchet sighs sounding hopeful. He stiffens as the room lights turn red and multiple hisses of compressed air being released surrounds him. A robotic voice rings out a warning that the test subjects are being released. Ratchet whips his head around stepping in a circle as snarles and screeches drowned out the warnings. Ratchet steadies his breathing as best he can as his hands trimble and heart beats wildly. Deadlock would be livid if he doesn't go down giving it his all to get back to him. Ratchet would be just as pissed to, "I'll do what I can but you better hurry kid..."

-- --

"You weren't suppose to do that Pharma." A flat voice speaks up from behind Pharma after picking up the chair he had kicked away. Pharma scoffs and grumbles, "You are not even going to ask him what he ment by being late to his quarters?" The chief of security drones on.

"Be sure to capture all angles. I want detailed shots of it all." Pharma growls removings his hand from the release butten he hit hard enough to crack. "You are being paranoid per usual. Don't tell me you never heard the rammblings of a dying man?" Pharma sighs, with a dramatic flick of his wrist he walks out of the room.

"No, but I imagine I will soon enough." The security director mumbles under his breath. Reaching over the chair he resets the cameras.

OH. OH THEY ARE FUUUUUUCKED

OH THEY ARE SO SO INCREDIBLY FUCKED THEY ARE GONNA GET SPREAD EVENLY ALL OVER THE FLOOR AND I WANNA SEE IT SO B A D

#YEAS #YES PLEASE #ANON #ANON I LOVE YOU #Also Deadlock basically purring is just #kfmfnfjfjfmmfnfmfkfkfkfl #tf mecha universe #also Deadlock keeping track of Ratchets routine is so cute omg

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baxndaid · 2 months ago

Text

rick sanchez x reader

headcannons or something idk i like old men read my stanford x readers here too x <- POLL AT THE END !!

- you’re probably a family friend, you come over every once in a while to supervise morty and summer while jerry and beth try to rekindle their failing marriage

- you do a horrible job because the kids always end up sneaking out with their grandpa to kill some god or something absurd like that

- your oblivious, rick isn’t necessarily cold towards you, just indifferent

- he would rather be elsewhere than in the living room talking to some random person that beth insists on having in her house

- one day you catch them sneaking out and probably hide inside of the trunk of ricks car(?) because curiosity killed the cat or something like that

- the cars system would probably inform him that he has an unexpected visitor and your caught red handed, now inside the passenger seat with morty and his grandfather

- awkward would not be enough to describe what that whole journey was

- rick would berate you for being so stupid, telling you that you had no survival skills getting into strangers cars like that

- morty sat in silence, disappointed that he couldn’t go to “boob world” or whatever he called it

- you see, you’re a professional glazer

- it’s not even unintentional like you’re genuinely super impressed by this guy what the fuck do you mean he’s fucked a planet?? crazy work me next

- he decides to keep you around to stroke his ego, it’s refreshing to have someone who’s not always busting his balls about morality and space laws

- and having someone as attractive as you worship him like a god sounded good to him

- after a while he’ll definitely enjoy your company but pretend he’s super cool and suave , pretending that he’s not excited to spend some time with you

- morty gets a little concerned at the fact that his grandpa has taken a liking to you, with with beth

- they know what he’s like, he’s brash and cold one minute, and a little normal the next

- they eventually give in though, they’ve never seen him so calm before, maybe you’ll change him and his chaotic ways

- (you can’t and you won’t)

- he’s super distant when he realises he might have genuine feelings for you, it’s not like him at all to feel all mushy

- truth is, he’s lonely, he’s sad, he’s afraid that things won’t work out, something bad happens to you etc, then he’s back to being lonely

- yeah he’ll probably be a little mean to you at first, to try and scare you off

- doesn’t work, so he gives up with the sass

- definitely builds you little trinkets and machines now and then

- you have no time to mow the lawn? he’s going to build self mowing grass for you (it’s a little sad)

- always stuck in traffic? he’s tinkered with your car and now whenever you drive by a traffic light it’ll always be green (so many casualties)

- too cold today? he’s going to discreetly push the sun a little closer to the earth, juuust a smidge

- he definitely butt dials you when he’s drunk only to cry on your lap until he sobers up and then pretends nothing happened, if he tells you anything particularly sensitive then your memories about it are going bye-bye

- it would take a lot for him to confess, for real

- normally though you’ll probably find a bunch of voice mails from him, he sounds rough and panicky, like he’s about to die in some stupid mission (you could always near morty crying in the background)

- he’ll tell you that he loves you, and that you make him forget about how much he hates himself

- forget about that though because in the very next voice mail he sounds normal again and is telling you to ignore what the last message said

- do not ignore it pls

- do something subtle but nice, like bake or cook him something, or buy him a new lab coat, anything

- he’ll probably get the hint soon

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick c137 #x reader #rick sanchez x reader #morty smith #rick and morty x reader #reader insert #xreader #beth smith #jerry smith #stanford x reader #ford x reader #gravity falls #rick x reader #diane sanchez

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silverbeamcreations · 13 days ago

Text

Part 1

Prt 2 here

Jason was having one of THOSE days. Dick had been overly clingy, his bike had gotten a flat near the beginning of patrol, and Bruce was overbearing on his hunt of his current case. It had been a long night, even longer without the use of his bike running around roof tops chasing strange leads for Batman. He was just about to hit his bed his longing for those pillows on the same level that Tim looked at his coffee cup in the morning when Oracle gave him a call.

Duke needed a hand near Crime Alley, so Jason tore his gaze from his bed and grabbed his guns instead. "Goodnight, goodnight, parting is such sweet sorrow." Jason mumbled mornfully as he jumped off his firescape balcony.

2 hours later, plus a slightly dodgy knife wound that took forever to treat due to being on his back, and he stood once again before his bed.

The infamous Red Hood spread out his arms, declaring to his egyptian cotton sheets, "I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest." He closed his eyes and tilted forward, letting gravity bring him to his rest.

When he hit cement rather than mattress swear, he could hear his soul screaming in frustration. Peeling his upper torso off the floor, he cracked an eye open.

A ring of black drippy candles spread wide around him, leaving little to see by in the dark room. The strange squiggly marks and lines painted on the floor also circled around him. An idea blooming Jason looked up, anticipating to see wackos in robes, and was confused to see weirdos in lab coats instead.

"What the fuck?"

_______________

Please encourage me and let me know if you want more. Would love to hear your predictions and suggestions. Also, I have no idea how Tumblr works. Please advise, lol.

Part 3

#silverbeamcreations #fanfic #fanfiction #dc x dp crossover #dpxdc #drabble #dead on main #danny phantom #red hood #jason todd #batfam #alternate universe #crossover

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notthecutesttrash · 5 months ago

Text

Nostalgia

Content: Sukuna found himself intrigued by your spunk, and when he notices that Yuji is struggling to overpower him one day, he finally has a little fun.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ DARK, NONCON, readers a bit obnoxious at first, time skip for obvious reasons, Smut, suffocation, no like actually, blood, loss of virginity, fingering, hair pulling, spanking

Word count: 4.3k

The school is blatantly empty today, which was rather boring. You had decided from the moment you woke up, that this would be the day you saw Sukuna’s supposed vessel. How disappointing to notice everything so empty, like an abandoned building. No Gojo, no other first years, whatever. It was all lame.

Huffing to yourself you open the door to another spacious classroom with zero people intact. You thought to even check the nurse’s office, only to see Ieiri doing who knows what with the bodies there. She turns up at you as blood adorns her lab coat, “Oh, hey, what’re you doing here?” You blink and close the door. She shrugs and diverts her attention back to work.

Where else could they be? Principals room? Sealed room? Ah possibly there.

You make way for the chambers, passing the empty hallways. The year above you's class is more than interesting. There's a panda, a dude who speaks in rice ball ingredients, and a zen’in lady. The lady was also able to keep up with your rude remarks which was amusing.

As you walk you hear small far away grunts. Humming, you curiously begin to switch directions, and near the sounds of groaning and “Hyah’s!”

From far away, you’re able to see a faint, puffy pink-haired man slapping a training dummy with a weird fuzzy blade. He’s so caught up in training that he doesn’t notice you, so you watch, judging his stance and how he struggles while dragging his breaths.

He’s doing it all wrong.

Though you’re amused at the pure confidence brimming in his expression; he was almost cute it's laughable. Eventually, that makes its way from your mouth, and he shifts to you, completely oblivious that you were even there that whole time. He’s a bit taken aback, and you near closer to see him.

“Um.. who are you?” He asks, dumbfounded.

You press your hands to your waist ignoring the question and direct one back at him “Are you a first-year?”

“Yeah. Are you one of those second years? Did you guys already come back from your mission?”

You shake your head, and point to him exclaiming loudly, “No, I’m with you! Yuji Itadori!”

He blanks, “Uh.. okay..” you squeal, throwing your hands in the air.

“I knew it! Sukuna picked you? Look at that, you’re so innocent looking, you’re not even holding that blade right.” You giggle to yourself obnoxiously and he tilts his head, a small flicker of annoyance inside him.

“Actually, he didn’t pick me, I just swallowed one of his fingers and-“ you cut him off with a sound of disgust.

“You did that willingly? Ugh, how interesting, what did it taste like? Was it crunchy? Gooey? Was it old?”

He ponders for a moment before answering, “Old, definitely old, and wrinkly.. and his fingernails are sharp.”

“Ew.” You cringe at the thought, and he tilts his head to ask, “So, what are you here for?”

Shrugging, you think. “I just wanted to see,” you answer vaguely. Being Sukuna’s vessel is more than interesting, considering it’s been what, hundreds of years?

He opens his mouth to speak and you look at his cursed tool, probably one that was given to him by Gojo. Something in you wants to admit the morbid curiosity of seeing Sukuna, but in reality, you know that would be terrible.

“So, how does that work? Do you just have him inside of you? Does he talk? Do you hear him? See him like a ghost and he talks to you, is he standing here right now?” You ramble all your ideas at him and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. You were definitely weirding him out.

“No nothing like that, though I do hear him every now and then. It’s sort of annoying.” He points to the back of his hand, “or he’ll show here.” You tilt your head, weird.

You move close to him, enough to invade his personal space. You lift your hand and he’s confused, then you dive it down on his head, patting the fluff.

Beaming, you pet him mockingly while cooing, “I heard you’re going on your first real mission tomorrow, how exciting.”

Yuji lightly slaps your hand away, grumbling, “Can you not do that?” he steps back so you would no longer be at arm’s length.

You smile. Truthfully, you were planning on being more annoying. Why? Well, you're not sure. You quite liked him instead, he was cute, and you know you're going to enjoy teasing him often. He's still fussing over his hair as you think until you twirl away with a laugh.

“Hey, tell Sukuna I said hi when he saves your ass from death.” You stick your tongue out at him and Yuji furrows his brows immediately. That annoyed him.

Safe to say, Sukuna was definitely amused by you since then.

Yuji is your boyfriend, and he's someone you love to death even if you can still tease the heck out of him. But you've calmed since then. And through the years nothing ever came of Sukuna. Many times you had even forgotten he existed.

Occasionally you two would get food together, and sometimes you had a morbid curiosity when remembering after all this time.

“Does Sukuna still talk to you?” You’d ask and he’d turn his head to the side with a grave expression. He knows, but he never admits.

“No, not really," he'd mumble to himself. You’d nod in response, giving him a knowing gaze. Was it really that bad?

Yes.

From the day he first met you to now, all that was always on the curses mind was how he just wanted to kill everyone and have fun with the punk’s lively girlfriend. Luckily, that day never came, and it never will.

That was until.. he got sick of course.

You’re patting the washcloth against Yuji’s head, a worry setting a deep frown on your face. His breathing is heavy, and he's panting with a newfound flame that burns in his forehead. He’s hotter than you’ve ever felt, it was almost inhuman. No reverse curse technique seemed to have been helping, no doctor, no medicine, no bath, no rest, just nothing was working.

You’re rushing to look through Yuji's cabinets. There has to be something here that you haven’t seen before. No simple pain medications would help, nothing generic. You pick up a bottle, maybe this one? It was a herbal medicine, and you knew it was a fat chance, but you’re desperate. So you rush back to Itadori and pour him a small cup of water near the pills.

“Hey, Yuuji.. baby,” you lightly caress his cheek, but to no avail. His skin is steaming, and his eyes are clasped shut.

You frown and take the pills in your hands, pouting at what you have to do. You open his mouth and drop the pills in lightly, holding his head up at a good position, then making sure a very small amount of water is poured in so he won’t choke. This reminded you of something, but you weren’t sure of what.

Setting the cup back down you stare at it, then him, then gasp as a bad thought strikes you. Sukuna. The only person who can heal him.

You can’t do that. Sukuna only works for his own gain. He probably wouldn’t even care if he died with Yuji. But still, you won't just let that happen.

Albeit.. are you really going to allow possibly hundreds, if not thousands to die by his hands just because you selfishly want one man to live? Emotional connection or not, that wasn’t smart. Or is it?

Yuji is probably the only person who could hold Sukuna off- or not probably, he is the only person who can hold him off. Maybe besides Gojo, but that didn’t count when it came to a literal internal affair.

Either way, the fingers are all stowed somewhere. Surely you could find one. but still, you’d rather not have the god of curses of all beings roam around. You knew Yuji wouldn’t want that either, in fact, he’d probably be disappointed.

You sigh and pat Yuji’s head, giving him a soft kiss on the forehead. “Hope you get better… I’m gonna go now, okay?” You stand and stare at him, knowing he probably couldn’t hear you, or respond. You were sure he was deep in there somewhere, maybe even kicking Sukuna’s ass.

Sighing, you arrive at your home and slam your back into the bed, draping a hand over your forehead. You’re exhausted. Lately, you’ve just been spending days and nights at his house.

Sometimes you aren’t able to sleep depending on the day, this time might be one of those, but you aren't sure.

Battling with the idea of Yuji’s worsening sickness and Sukuna’s possible revival made you almost get a migraine.

You glance at the time. It’s already been a full hour, and your corneas are burning from the lack of sleep. Alright.. suppose it was time. You sigh and make yourself comfy, curling in a small ball before closing your lids.

When you awake, there’s a blur in your eyes as you tiredly open them. It’s dark and when you glance at the window you’re thinking it’s maybe 2 AM. 3? Rolling over to your side, you pull your leg up and get comfy again, groaning at how hot your pillow now is. Lifting your head to turn it, you slam back down comfortably, a flicker of pink in your sight. Yawning, you rub your eyes and blink at whatever that could be, but decide eh, whatever, it’s your room, nothing out of the ordinary. What you needed was sleep for tomorrow.

Shuffling, you clutch your pillow and squeeze it against you, loving the feel of the brisk cold that rubs against your cheek and satiates the heat of your neck. Closing your eyes with a small moan, a faint chuckle sounds near you. Blinking your eyes open, a jolt of fear slithers down your spine, and you raise your upper half and rotate to survey the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. You’re tired, just hearing things.

Huffing, you press yourself against the pillow again and clench your eyes shut. Just go to sleep damn it.

This time you heard an audible step. Your heart sped into your chest and you forced yourself to rotate the other way. You’re just hearing things, lack of sleep will do that to you, it’s been a long day too, so surely it’s that.

Step. It must be a curse, but you didn’t feel anything, so it had to just be you. If you go to sleep now, then it’ll all be gone. Just keep closing your eyes and when you open them again it’ll be morning.

Step. You squeaked at the sound and the creak in the floorboards. That’s when you heard another chuckle.

“How long are you going to feign sleep?” A raspy deep voice erupts a squeal from you.

Turning shakily, you struggle to adjust to the lighting as you see a familiar figure ahead. “Yuji?” Your small voice whispers out. He grins wide. No, something was not right here. Yuji didn’t have markings or whatever this was on him, and he never kept his bangs back.

When you glanced down to study his body you froze. There was a hole in his chest, not an incision, not a Halloween effect, a full-on hole that you could look inside of. Blood was dripping from the wound, but it seemed as if it was drying judging by the goop.

A realization hits you, and you gasp, your body shaking under the weight of Yuji- no Sukuna's gaze. His smile is large, and his dark orbs glow red in the darkness. “Y-You’re…” you hold your breath.

“H-How..?” You’re still whispering, tremoring as nears your features. He suddenly laughs loudly, cackling horribly with that new voice of his. It echoes into your ears and makes your heart drop. This was it, you were going to die.

“You see, I was planning on having fun with that other lively girl. But, because of the brat’s affection for you, I have decided to pick you first.” He has a rumble in his hoarse throat when he verbalizes, and a horrifying smile still paints his face. You’re stuck, shaking in your spot.

“A-Are you..” you struggle to think of the words, your voice cracking as he gleams at you. “Going to.. kill me..?” Sukuna’s grin widens, and finally, you can see the way his double pair of eyes glimmer even in the lack of light.

“After you’ve quenched my insatiable thirst, then yes.”

He takes a moment, pausing to press his hand against his chin as he thinks. “Or perhaps I’ll bond you to a life of servitude, whatever amuses me more at the moment.”

You know he’s more than serious. You had to do anything, talk, and keep on conversing until he got bored. Reason with all your might.

You attempt to continue as you swallow hard. “B-But… Yuji will switch back.” He had to switch back, right? Won’t he? Or does the hole in his heart not prove to you enough that he won’t be able to?

“Unless the punk wants to die, then he’ll have to be my guest. But he seems to be struggling at the moment, so, I’m going to take my sweet time with you.”

He gets close, his finger twirling around your hair.

You bawl your fist into the sheets. You have to escape. You have to. Your legs quietly press beneath you, as if readying for a sprint.

“If you so as flinch I’ll make quick work of your death.”

Suddenly you’re rigid as can be, terrified that the quaking in your heart and the stammering in your hands would get you killed. All you’re doing is heaving, barely able to meet his gaze.

“Now bow.” He commands and you quickly rush to cradle your head between your hands that lay flat against the bed. He enjoys the scene, delighting in the fear.

A second passes, and you’re flipped on your back with a strength you’ve never felt before. It was enough to bruise you just from the sheer weight. He lifts his clawed finger and suddenly your clothes are ripped, and before you can think to cover yourself with a blanket or anything he’s over you, staring into your desperate eyes.

He was truly a pure evil that no one could think to reach.

Tears are forming. You’re terrified. “Please don’t,” you mutter weakly.

He cackles loud enough for you to flinch. He won’t kill you yet.

The glimmer of his teeth when he grins wide makes you gasp. He’s snickering to the point it becomes manic laughter, and it makes you sick to your stomach. It sounded nothing like Yuji. His laughs are always a lot lighter and sweet.

Sukuna sighs longingly to himself, trailing his fingers down your body as you cry. “It’s been a thousand years, and I will never stop delighting in these sweet whimpers.” His palm meets your cunt. He presses against your clit hard and you squeal out from the pain. He doesn’t care for your enjoyment. All he wants to do is force himself down your tight hole and release every bit of cum he's had stored up for years.

“To believe the fool hadn’t claimed you, what a shame.. for him. A treasure to me.” He’s chuckling as he kneads your clit more. It’s impatient and mean, but it gets you wet enough. His middle finger promptly shoves inside you, and you whine at the pain, curling your toes into the bed. Blood drips from the wound, lubricating his finger to pulse into you more. Sukuna grins at the liquid, and he’s purposely speeding up his pace.

Tears swell in your eyes. You always wanted to save yourself for Yuji. Save yourself for the perfect moment.. and Sukuna just took everything away from you.

“A thousand years and I get a virgin, ah I just delight in it, this is going to be fun.” His eyes are glimmering wide, brimming with joy as he adds another finger. You hiss at the sudden discomfort. His other hand moves to your neck, but it pauses, just hovering above it. You gulp tightly, scared for what was to come.

“On second thought,” he pulls away and uses his free hand instead to circle your clit harshly. You’re tensed up, quivering with the pain of him spearing you mercilessly while gasping at the pleasure of your clit.

"I wouldn’t typically allow you the pleasure to breathe, but since you’ve never felt this, your cries will satisfy me more," Sukuna grins. If it wasn’t for the need to stretch you out, he wouldn’t be doing this at all. But he enjoys the way your cunt attempts to swallow his fingers whole as if attempting to expel him. He forces another in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion. You’re hands are clutched around your sides desperately as you moan and cry.

His fingers are fucking you furiously, eventually attaining a pleasant amount of wetness from your cunt. The obscene sounds feel as if they’re blaring in the room. You’re still tense as could be, but once he finally takes them out, you slump in response, heaving in relief.

Sukuna chuckles evilly at the slick surrounding his fingers. As if it wasn’t a moment ago that he had just broken you and stretched you wide.

“Ah, virgins. So easily excitable.” He breathes in delight to himself. You’re quivering, attempting to remain stiff, but every time his hand grazes your skin you flinch. You forcefully drape your arm over your sight while streams roll down your cheeks. Whenever you would glimpse at him all you wanted to do was cry and run.

There’s no remorse in him, no guilt, nothing but happiness as he lives his fantasy.

You feel his tip suddenly poke at your entrance, and you don’t even feel how clenched up you are. Your teeth are dragging against one another in anticipation, and he attempts to push in. You can’t help but peek fearfully, and you tighten at the sight. Sukuna gazes at you, annoyed. You shiver. Did you move? Did you do something wrong?

Quickly you’re spun around, your chest landing on the bed and your face bouncing off the pillow. Your view is met with the headboard. You can’t see anymore, and you panic. Your head moves up and you attempt to turn your body to fixate on him. He forces you back down instantly with a grip on your scalp. It tightens and you're shoved into your pillow hard.

When you attempt to move, the strength increases. His sharp fingernails are grazing your skin, almost drawing blood. You can’t breathe. You try to take an inhale and you’re stopped by the force of the pillow stuffing and blocking your airway.

Without warning your pussy is spread wide by his cock and you scream incoherently. He instantaneously groans loudly at the warmth that meets him. His gaze turns to the ceiling, and his eyes are practically rolled to the back of his head as he relishes the feeling. He’s been waiting centuries for this exact moment. This scene has been revolving in his mind since day one. The idea of forcing a helpless virgin on their knees and taking them completely.

“Ah, I thought I’d never feel this again.” He exhales a deep breath of satisfaction, “It’s wonderful."

Your tight cunt swarms around his cock, sucking him in helplessly, and he groans, a newfound lust within. You're struggling to swallow his size, quivering as you feel your pussy forcefully stretch. You cry into the pillow, convulsing beneath him. He’s usually a patient man, but not this time.

He moves, gripping your head tight and pulling you down while he begins to pound you murderously. The brutality of his thrusts while you gasp for air has you thrashing around, adamant to get him off of you. He has no care. He'd make sure he would let out all of his frustrations from being in your punk-ass boyfriend’s body for so long.

“Do I need to remind you of what I’ve said? That would be rather impolite don’t you think?” Sukuna breathes heavily, annoyed by your muffled screams. He rams his cock to the very end of you and back. He's huge, and it burns endlessly when he thrusts. You’re shouting against the fabric, desperately attempting to shake off the force and lift yourself for just one inhale. He was going to kill you and defile your body. This is how you’re going to die, in the worst possible way.

He’s using you like a mere plaything. Eventually, the pressure rushing to your head starts to make your vision go dark. You limp against him as he fucks you senseless. Sukuna starts cackling, and he pulls your weak head up, watching you come to life with a heavy inhale. Tears are pouring down your cheeks, drool falling from your lips as you greedily heave. He's still bucking his hips sharply into you, slapping your ass hard.

Sukuna would've sneered, but there was a large amount of impatience beginning to surge. “Now, if I need to remind you again, then the next you won’t be breathing. Not that it matters to me. But you wouldn’t like that, would you?" His tone is dark, and you shake your head a complacent no. Anything to not go through that again.

“Good."

He slaps your ass with a rush of strength, making you jitter against him. He pulses into you, enjoying the way your pussy is now melting into a wet slop.

“It appears you enjoy this just as much as I.” You’re sputtering with your breaths, unable to even hear him chuckling as he slams into you. Your hair is suddenly pulled back. Sukuna is grabbing a fistful and the ache in your neck has you groaning uncomfortably.

You’re moaning nonsensically and his pace is merciless. “How cute, maybe I will keep you alive.”

His tug is impossible to push back at, and you yelp when he pulls you even further. He’s still slapping your ass repeatedly and you’re squeezing tight around him at every hit. His force is painful, and he finds it amusing. He only thrusts himself to the brink of his own orgasm while yanking you like a rag doll and stretching you wide.

You’re whining desperately as he speeds up, and a jolt of electricity rises. It pulses into a quivering release while you slur incoherently, subconsciously circling your hips into him.

Sukuna breathes hard against you, merciless excitement running through his veins as he pulls you back hard and fucks your exhausted core, all while you still ride out your climax. He finally hits deep inside of you, reaching the furthest his cock can and even more. There's a sudden warmth in your walls as a heavy thick stream of cum pours inside of you.

“How I miss this.” Sukuna exhales loudly, nearly moaning at the sweet release. His clutch on your skin is still tight, causing you to jolt beneath him.

And It was only a few moments that had passed before he left your sore cunt, only to push himself back in and slam into you. You’re a slop, whining desperate slurs into your pillow as he fucks you senseless.

You don't know how much time passed, but it never stopped. You found yourself eventually heaving and imagining a place where this wasn’t happening. Where Yuji was alive and he was the one taking you instead.

Sukuna had whirled you around, pushing himself deep into you, his tongue dragging against your neck. Your legs are barely gripping his as he pounds you beneath him. His grasp was tight on the sheets beside you, and you were just relieved it wasn’t on your skin anymore.

Suddenly a rush builds and you’re whining loudly, your thighs feeling a new strength as you clasp around him. Your hands don’t dare to grab him, but as you lose yourself in your orgasm you can’t help the way you claw at his back. Sukuna pulses into you and lets out another stream of cum. The eventual number you didn’t know. Tears were rolling down your face, you're tired, you just want it to stop.

“No more.. please,” you whisper desperately.

Sukuna snickers into your neck, breathing not nearly as hard as you were. He pulls himself from your throbbing hole and you still manage to whine at the loss. Relief follows swiftly, and the cum that clogs itself inside of you drips slowly.

“Did you think a mere few climaxes would be enough for me? You truly don’t understand.” His tone gets low as he grins. “I am going to keep playing with you until I get bored.” You pant exhaustedly, barely able to register his words. You just want to go to sleep.

As quick as that relief had come, it diminished the moment he buried himself in your cunt again. You whimper and let out a choked breath, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head. His deep breath brushes your skin, his groan rumbling something deep within you.

“And yet you have joined them all so wonderfully. It’s been so long since I had a woman keep up with me,” he beams wide with that evil sparkling in his red eyes.

“I’ve decided I’ll let you live. I’ll keep you by my side whenever I feel the need to use you.” At his words, sobs begin to overtake you. He grips your arms tight, pushing into you repeatedly and cackling maniacally.

You would never be free from that grating sound ever again.

#x reader #anime x reader #dark x reader #dark fanfiction #x female reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk #jujustu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x reader #tw noncon

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dcandmarvelimagines · 4 months ago

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sweeter than you ever knew. (pt 4)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 7.9k (yikes omg)Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, fluffy and softness, Logan gives you a bath and also makes food, Wade is so gentle and cute, lots of kissing!!, descriptions of bruises, mildly horny? Author's note: Hi lovelies!! Take some intense fluff and softness! I maybe made Wade a little too serious in a spot but I just needed it, we all needed it after how intense that last chapter was <3 This is also an eternity long omg, but the comfort took me over, mind and soul. Next chapter is the last one :’( it makes me so sad to think that this will be over soon. But it’s going to be THE chapter. All the sexual tension is finally going to be resolved. ao3 Tags (if you would like to be included or removed, just let me know. If I forgot someone I'm so sorry!!): @fallout-girl219 @xolosimp @o0aligoth0o @thedevilsaysthings @jaeyuni @redmitsuru5 @jeffs77 @spideybv28 @trumanbluee @jennapearce13 @chxrrybomb22 @7soulstars @what-the-jams @lostinheavensworld @purplestars222 @movieat @whiskeyghoul @paintballkid711 @unmotivated-artist164 @sun7lowxr @minniekitties @ceobuggy @amararosesblog @harryshousewhore @bontensbabygirl @belgium2 @g0ldenstarr @wolvndmouth @sseleniaa @reddesires

The next hours passed in a haze. A group of men in large cars picked us up. No flashing lights pierced through my closed eyelids, so I didn’t think they were police. Logan kept me in his arms, growls rumbling through his chest whenever someone came closer. At some point my numb hands pushed his mask away. I just want to see him, see the comforting lines of his face, finally be able to read his expression. But my brain was sluggish, unable to make sense of him as he blinked up at me. Instead, I nuzzled my face into his cheek, smearing blood on his skin, eyes drooping closed.

Then I was in a bright room and a woman was talking to me. She was wearing a lab coat but I didn’t seem to be in a hospital. Logan and Wade weren’t in the room with me. She told me she was a mutant that would be able to heal me, but not completely, that I would still be stiff and my wound would turn to a horrible bruise. I just gave weak acknowledgements to all her questions. I barely felt the discomfort of my skin and muscles knitting themselves back together. Her touch was gentle as she wiped away the gore from my face and hair, the same healing ability applied to my busted lip and aching cheeks. She handed me a bottle of painkillers, telling me I would need to rest for at least a week. I was grateful that she also gave me a pair of thin pants and slip-on shoes. She helped me hobble to the door and out into a bare hallway. That’s where I found a mask less Wade, bouncing his legs in a chair that seemed near breaking point, and Logan pacing, his hair messy from running his fingers through it. They both sprung toward me and I collapsed into Logan’s awaiting arms. Wade kissed my temple as his hand caressed down my back. The woman explained my situation to them before she disappeared again.

“We’re going to stay over, at least tonight, okay sugar muffin?”

“Can you stay longer?” The idea of being alone, especially in my apartment, made my head scream in resistance. My hands scrambled against Logan’s costume, trying to cling to him, to make sure he stayed right here next to me.

“Of course sweetheart,” Logan murmured, “we can stay as long as you need us to.” His beard scrubbed at my forehead as he drew me close.

“I’ll go back to the apartment and grab our stuff then.” Wade parted with one last peck at my cheek. Logan let me rest my head against him for a long moment. The fact that I was alive, that I had survived everything hadn’t settled in quiet yet. But I knew it was only a matter of time before I broke down. Maybe Logan knew it as acutely as I did because he lifted me into his arms once again. My consciousness blinked in and out. We were in a car that smelled of cleaner. We passed by the bright skyscrapers. Then I was being jostled once more as Logan stepped out of the car. He placed me on my feet before crouching down in front of me. I didn’t ask for an explanation and just climbed onto his back, arms and legs latched around him. He climbed the steps to my fourth floor apartment.

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” I whispered, lips next to his ear. His hand squeezed my uninjured thigh.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I have plenty more that you can have.” By the time we exited the dingy stairwell, dawn was peaking through the hallways windows. Wade had clearly told him my apartment number, or I had in my pain induced delirium, because he found my door easily. I glanced down.

“I guess my pizza actually was delivered. Probably bad now though.” I would have thought after two weeks it would have been taken away or would have started to smell. Odd. Logan jiggled my door open and brought us inside, catching the pizza box with his foot and bringing that in as well. My body felt lethargic as I let go of Logan. My healing leg felt far stronger than before, only minor tremors in the muscle. He was drifting through my kitchen, filling a glass with cool water from my fridge, grabbing snacks from my cabinet. “Can we take a bath?” He studied me, worry etched onto his lined face. “I don’t think I have the energy to do it myself.”

“Drink this,” he tapped the glass, “and eat this first,” he pushed a small packet of crackers toward me. I did as he asked but didn’t sit. If I did, I doubted I would get back up again. He watched me closely, like I had any reason to hide from him. Once the glass was empty and the crackers gone, I trudged to my bathroom. My leg was tense and hard to move. The doctor had done a good job healing my face, leaving me only with two twin bruises on my cheeks. They were already in the yellow stage of bruising and would be gone within a few days. I stood in the familiar space for a moment. Something soothed in my soul at the sight of my towels, the new ones that were like a cloud. I felt back to myself, if only a bit.

While I waited for Logan to join me, I brushed my teeth. Twice. Then I raked a comb through my knotted hair. I started the bath, not caring about my neighbors and the early hour. When I turned, I found Logan in the doorway, naked. The small horny part of my brain shouted at the rest of it to take in every inch of his sculpted body. But I just didn’t have the energy. “Sorry,” he huffed, sounding a little self conscious. “The suits are hard to get out of without looking stupid.”

“Hopefully you can help me out of these,” I plucked at my shirt, “without making me look too stupid.” Fine, a small win for horny brain. He approached me in tentative steps, like I was about to attack him or scream. “Logan, I’m not scared of you.” His face relaxed, if only slightly, but he didn’t seem reassured.

His hands were gentle as he lifted the filthy shirt off me. The calluses whispered across my hips as he reached for my pants, thumbs hooked through my panties, and let them pool around my feet. I braced myself on his shoulders so I could remove my shoes. Logan’s eyes drank my body in before he closed them and shook his head once. “Not the right time,” he grumbled to himself. He stalked to the tub, sitting himself on the lip, before testing the waters with one thick finger. It was seemingly up to his standards and he shut the water off. He collected a washcloth, soap, shampoo, and conditioner before he lowered himself into the hot water. A little groan escaped his throat, neck bared as it fell back. There was a firm muscle in his jaw that relaxed as he sunk into the hot water. Steam filled the bathroom, the mirror foggy. It made him look like something from the cover of a romance novel, too handsome and otherworldly to be real. He propped one wet arm up on the edge of the tub and I followed a drop of water as it traced down a vein. “You just gonna stand there and stare, princess?”

I shrugged. “Nice to stare at.” I climbed into the tub, settling between his spread legs, melting into his comforting body. I watched as the blood coating my legs and torso swirled into the clear water, tinting it pink. We didn’t speak for several long minutes, the plunk of the dripping faucet the only sound echoing in the room. My thigh ached but the tight muscle started to loosen the longer I soaked. I absently rubbed at it, hoping to work the last of the soreness out, but only managed a wince of pain. His hair tickled my ear as he leaned closer.

“Hurt?” I shook my head. His fingers outlined the injury, touch feather light.

“If it means you keep touching me, then yes.” His chin notched itself between my shoulder and neck. But he kept up his soft touches, his other thick arm curled loosely around my stomach. It seemed like he was intending to let silence fall again. “Why the new nickname?” The question popped out just to give him a reason to keep talking.

“Wade has a new one every time he talks to you, thought I would try. I thought sweetheart would be dull by now. Don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” I teased, wet fingers running through his hair. “I figured you would be very old fashioned with your pet names.” I felt his chest rumble with a restrained chuckle. His chest hair tickled at my back. We lapsed into silence again. As it stretched, my mind started to wonder.

The man’s brain splattering across my face.

The crack of the wood seat as the knife drove in deeper.

The creeping numbness in my feet.

The sight of a man walking through my bedroom door.

“Hey,” Logan whispered against my ear, “come back to me.” I shuddered and clutched at his arm, wrapping it tighter around me, nails digging into his flesh. “You’re okay. Take a deep breath for me. Good job,” his big hand rested on my chest, right over my heart. “Deep breath again, okay?” I did as he said. His hand pushed down against me in a comforting press as I breathed out. I took five more inhales before he removed his hand. “You’re safe, sweetheart.”

“I know,” I said, trying to reassure myself. I knew I was. I trusted Logan and Wade with my life. But I felt a confusing mix of vulnerability and numbness. I wanted to cry, to break down at the injustices done upon me. I also wanted to retreat into myself and become nothing but a husk of my former self. Logan gave me a light kiss on the cheek.

“Time to clean you up I think.” I nodded. He was, as always, gentle. He used a plastic cup to spill water down my hair, hand braced along my forehead to stop any from falling into my eyes. He shampooed my hair three times, trying to get every bit of blood out. His fingers massaged into my scalp and I let out satisfied sighs at the feeling.

“You’re good at this.” The last of the shampoo was washed away, sending a cascade of soap down my spine. He pumped a generous amount of conditioner into his hand before spreading it along the ends of my hair. He worked diligently through the knots, never tugging or ripping.

“I’ve had a lot of…” his voice trailed off, seeming uncertain.

“Girlfriends?”

“I was going to say practice.” My lips twitched. “Lean forward.” I drew my knees up and rested my head on them. I heard the squirt of soap a moment before the washcloth touched my back. He rubbed in smooth circles, just the right of pressure applied. Eventually his hand curved over my shoulder and I sunk back against him. He was thorough, scrubbing spots I often passed over quickly. The hollow of my throat, the ditch of my elbows, between each of my fingers, behind my ears. Something hard nudged against my back. I pushed experimentally back against him. He let out a hiss and stilled my hips with a single hand. “No. Not now, just relax.”

“That usually does help me relax.” His hand disappeared under the cloudy water to scrub at my legs. I sat up suddenly and spun, a small wave of water spilling out of the side of the tub. My legs braced themselves on either side of his hips and my hands landed on his shoulders. I caught his hazel eyes flashing down to my breasts where they squished against his chest, before he looked back up at me. “You’re so handsome,” I purred, fingers mapping lines of his face.

“Hey,” his tone was commanding, but not mean, as his hands latched around my wrists. I tried to catch his lips but he was able to avoid me.

“Distract me,” I plead.

“Not like that.” I struggled a moment longer and then I deflated. My forehead fell, landing against his, eyes shut tight. Self consciousness and shame bit at me.

“I’m sorry. I don’t…I just don’t want to think about it anymore.”

“Don’t have to apologize, princess.” He brushed my damp hair off my shoulders, hand trailing up my pulse point, before rubbing along my cheekbone. “Let’s get you in bed. I know all your emotions are keeping you up, but you’ll crash soon. You don’t have to worry about anything else until you’re ready.” I groaned.

“Shit, I have to call work. That’s assuming I’m not fired for being gone for weeks.” His thumb stopped. He drew back, pinching my chin, forcing our eyes to lock.

“Weeks?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, looking at him with confusion. “Well maybe more, I was trying to count by the sun.” I pointed at the ceiling to convey the sunroof. He blinked, brows knitted together. “What?”

“You were only gone for about half a day. Wade started panicking when you didn’t text him that you made it home.” My mind spun. “We would’ve never let you be taken that long.”

“So, what, it was some illusion?” The water had grown tepid. My thumb nail broke easily when I began biting it after it’s prolonged soak. The fact I could track my days was one of my saving graces. It kept my mind anchored to reality as I sat, bleeding out. But it was all a lie. Why? Logan tugged at my wrist, taking the nail away from me, giving the abused finger a kiss.

“That woman,” Logan hummed, voice slow as he thought. “She was a mutant. I think she could fuck with time or make us feel like she did. Wade said it felt weird right before he killed her, like he was moving too slow.” That would explain all the odd inconsistencies. The woman standing outside the door for weeks. Bleeding out for days without dying. Never feeling hungry or needing to use the bathroom.

“Why? Why would they do that to…ah.”

“What?” He was back to watching me like I was half feral, like I would attack him. It was a heartbreaking combination of weariness and open affection.

“The man told me that,” my voice stuttered. His touch was light as it moved down my back, disappearing under the water to my waist. “He said that you guys wouldn’t-“ I hated that my eyes now decided to sting. That I was breaking at this, about him.

“Don’t have to say anything sweetheart.” I shook my head, wet hair sticking to my shoulders. I curled my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, playing with the strands that had curled from the hot water.

“He said you guys didn’t,” I glanced down, looking at his chest instead, connecting the splatter of moles along his skin. “That you guys didn’t care or want me around anymore. That’s why you were taking so long.” He growled, the sound reverberating through the water.

“He’s wrong.” He aimed to reassure, but it was rough around the edges, anger tearing at the corners. It was very Logan. “We want you around as long as you’ll have us.” That mounting anxiety inside me began to dissipate. “Listen,” he squeezed my waist for extra emphasis, “don’t think of that waste of space. He deserved everything that happened to him and more. Everything he ever said to you was a fucking lie.” I nodded and leaned in for a kiss but paused.

“Just one.” Logan hesitated. “I promise I’ll be gentle.” He grinned and my heart stuttered at the sight. A true Logan grin was like spotting a shooting star, quick and stunning.

“I remember what your last kiss was like, I’m not sure I’ll survive it again. Having you against me has been enough torture.” Pride made me smile at him.

“Later then?” He nodded but gave me a quick peck anyways. I didn’t rush after him.

“Yeah,” he agreed. He cleared his throat. “I promise, I’ll take care of you, do whatever you need, give you anything I can.” My heartbeat stumbled and I blinked back a wave of tears. “I’m sorry I haven’t always been there for you.” His fingers danced along my shoulders. The action felt a little shy, nervous even. But his gaze never left mine. “But I,” his voice died for a moment. He cleared his throat again. “But I don’t want to let you go, not anymore.” I opened my mouth, ready to say he already had me, that I was never going anywhere, but he covered it with his wet hand. “Don’t say anything sweetheart. Just let me help you.” Reluctantly, I nodded.

He washed the long forgotten conditioner out of my hair before he rose from the bath. I nearly drooled at the sight of his thighs, thick with muscles and covered in a dusting of dark hair. I tried to avoid looking at his dick, it would only rile me up, but I caught a brief sight of it anyways as he stepped from the tub. The tip was a dusky pink and it looked wide. He padded over to my towel rack and grabbed one for each of us. He kept his back, and perfect bubble butt, to me as he dried himself off. While he did, I pulled the stopper from the drain and let the dirty water swirl away. He wrapped the towel around his waist before he turned back to me.

Logan carefully guided me out of the bath, both hands gripping my arms. Being back on my feet reminded me of the wound on my leg and I grimaced at the tremble that went through it. “Need some of the pills?” I shook my head. I was tempted to look at the injury but my empty stomach lurched at the idea.

“No,” he squeezed the towel over my wet hair, “the water just felt nice. Gravity is a bitch.” Logan chuckled but still looked worried. When my hair was only slightly damp, he moved to the rest of my body. I let him rub me down, giggling as he found ticklish spots in his thorough work. Occasionally his lips would ghost over where he had just wiped, my knee, my hip, the rib nearest my breast. They were always light and fleeting, but I relished them nonetheless.

Once I was thoroughly dry, he hung my towel back up. He caught my shoulders before I left the bathroom. “Don’t panic, Wade’s been back for about thirty minutes.” I quirked an eyebrow.

“And he’s just been sitting there? Without saying anything?”

“Trust me it’s been hard! Just like me honestly.” Logan sighed, eyes flicking to the ceiling, asking anything that would listen for patience. But I smiled and walked into my short hallway and found Wade sitting on my couch. He was surrounded by an obscene amount of bags. He had changed into a pair of X-Men branded pajama bottoms. When Wade saw me, completely naked, haloed by the dawn light, he made a strangled noise. “Holy fuck, oh my god, shit.” He glanced down at his cock, which was indeed very hard, tenting in a comical way. It gave a noticeable twitch.

“Calm down bub,” Logan growled, skirting around me to reach Wade and the bags. He glowered down at the other man’s pants. “She’s going to sleep and you,” he punched Wade’s arm for emphasis, “are gonna leave her alone.” Wade whined, head thumping against the back of the couch. Logan opened a bag, fishing out a shirt and boxers, along with a toothbrush. He dropped his towel, not caring that the blinds in the living room were wide open. Both me and Wade tilted our heads, gaze skating over Logan’s exposed body before he covered it with his underwear. He picked the towel up and went to put it back in the bathroom. He handed me the shirt, “don’t get brains on this one.”

As I took the worn shirt, he turned, but I stopped him with a hand to his cheek. “Thank you.” His hazel eyes nearly glittered in the rising sun’s rays. I gave him a kiss, just on the heavy side of chaste, but not what either of us craved. I drew back first and left him lingering, eyes half closed. I turned on my heel and into my bedroom. As I was picking up a fresh pair of underwear, I spotted Wade coming into my room as well. The faucet in the sink began to run. Exhaustion was finally starting to prickle at me and I yawned so hard my jaw popped.

“You’re so tired, let me help you.” Wade tugged the underwear from me before falling to his knees. He stared unabashedly at my pussy. I rolled my eyes, smiling despite myself. I was sure to give him a show, stepping into the stretched underwear one leg at a time, spreading myself open more than needed, my hand planted on his head for balance. He was slow to move it up my body, rising into increasingly hunched positions to keep the underwear level with his eyes. He left them down to reveal just a bit of myself to him. He leaned forward, a little point of pink exposed between his lips.

Logan’s hand clamped around his neck, hoisting him straight, like a mama cat with her misbehaving kitten. “So bad at following directions. Go brush your teeth, asshole.”

“Yes daddy.” Logan grunted in response. “You sound much scarier all growly like that. Much hotter too.” Wade dodged Logan’s fist as it swung toward him. He scampered away, winking, before the bathroom door shut.

“Insufferable.” Logan scanned me and I hastily tugged the shirt over my torso. “Good girl, now get into bed.” I blushed but did as he said. Before I collapsed down, I snagged a hair tie and brought my still damp hair up into a haphazard bun. It would be a complete knot when I woke up, whenever that would be, but I just needed it out of my way. Logan climbed after me, the bed frame groaning under his weight. Movement outside my window caught my eyes. It was just a bird fluttering by but a sudden spike of fear rushed through me. There was a clear handprint on the pane of glass. Logan, perhaps hearing my heart rate increase, followed my gaze. “It’s okay,” he mumbled, going to my window to shut the blinds. The room dimmed, the blinds cutting off the bright morning light. “No one will be able to get in here without Wade or me knowing.”

“I know,” I sighed, curling under my sheets. The bed creaked again as Logan joined me. His arms were like steel rods as they latched around me, drawing me flush against his firm body. He tucked his forehead against the nape of my neck and his breath tickled at the hair dangling there. His breathing was slow and even. My eyes drifted shut, chest synching with his. As if from down a long hallway, I heard Wade make some comment about how cute we looked. Logan’s chest rumbled in response.

The first thing I felt when consciousness finally reached me was bumpy skin against my nose. I buried my face deeper into Wade’s chest, shifting my stiff legs to feel that ours had tangled together. My thigh twinged at the motion. “Good morning, my lovely sleeping beauty. Never thought you would wake up, thought I would have to do it with true loves fuck.” A sleepy grin tugged at my lips.

“It’s true loves kiss, Wade,” I croaked, my throat scratchy. I must have been snoring. Cute.

“Not in the movies I watch.” I rolled to my back, stretching my body with a series of cracks and groans. Wade watched me with a hungry glint in his eyes, following Logan’s shirt drifting over my underwear and showing a sliver of stomach. I glanced at the window. With the blinds shut I wasn’t able to tell the time well, but judging by the burnt orange rays leaking through, it was either dusk or dawn.

“What time is it?” I reached for my phone on its usual spot on my bedside table before I remembered it had been taken with me. It was probably on some long forgotten table or smashed to pieces in a fight.

“It’s,” his phone flashed, “seven at night.” I scrubbed the lingering sleep from my eyes.

“Where’s Logan?” He wasn’t in the bed and I couldn’t hear any noise from the rest of the apartment.

“He went to get food. According to him, you don’t eat enough protein.” I shrugged, stretching my hips open, face scrunching at the ache. My hands went to my thigh, kneading at the skin. Wade twisted, kneeling between my spread legs. His pajamas were low, the edges of his hip bones peaking above the waist band. The dim light danced across his stomach and my eyes followed along the ridges of his abs. “You have lotion?”

“What?” I asked, half laughing, the question taking me off guard. A full giggle bubbled up inside me as his hands coasted along the crease of my thighs, fingertips catching under the elastic of my underwear.

“Well, I can’t give you a good massage if you aren’t all slippery.” His touch drifted up, pushing farther along my hips, revealing more of my skin to him. “I know you have some, don’t get such buttery smooth skin without it.“ I pointed my thumb to my bedside table. He leaned over me, hips flush with mine, as he rifled through the drawer before he snagged the lotion. My arms snaked around his waist, pressing little kisses to his neck and cheeks. “Logan warned me that you would try to seduce me.” I gave a throaty laugh and it only seemed to rile him up, his hips adjusting between mine.

“Do you want me to seduce you?” Wade groaned. His nose knocked against mine as he looked at me.

“No need sweetums, your snoring was as much of a turn on as I needed.” I rolled my eyes, pushing his chest back so he was kneeling once again. He grabbed the ankle of my injured leg, bracing my heel against his bare chest.

“You sure know how to charm a girl.” He smirked and popped open the lid of the lotion with his teeth, squirting a generous amount into his hand, rubbing them together to warm the liquid up.

“You’re still here aren’t you? Just can’t get enough of me.” I was going to give some sassy retort, but it was cut off by a surprised moan as Wade’s knuckles dug into my calf. The lotion helped his hands glide over my skin, working through knots with pressure that would have been painful without it. He moved in sweeping half circles, squeezing as he went.

“Shit,” I mumbled, eyes drifting closed. The tips of his fingers worked at the back of my ankle with the last of the lotion. Wade’s hand disappeared before returning to just below my injury, slicked with more lotion. His motions were more controlled, the press lighter, dancing around the bruise. “How bad does it look?” I tried to keep my voice light but there was a faint shake to the words.

“It doesn’t matter how it looks,” Wade responded, fingertips brushing the damaged skin. “How does it feel?” His touch was light and nearly tickled as he doodled idly across it.

“Doesn’t hurt, just feels numb in that spot. I can feel you touching the skin but it doesn’t feel…connected to me, I guess.” Wade hummed thoughtfully, lifting my heel to be over his shoulder, still damp hands going to the joint of my leg and hip, spreading my leg wider for him to massage. I sighed contentedly. “You’ve been holding out on me,” I teased, “should have made you give me back rubs anytime I saw you.”

“Just trying to show you all my skills before you let me fuck your brains out.” I opened my heavy eyes to find him smiling softly down at me. I reached out and he met me halfway, resting his cheek on my offered hand.

“We can add romance to the skill list. Who would have thought.”

“Hey,” Wade nipped my palm, sitting back on his knees. “I can’t do anything nice for Logan without him throwing a fit. So all my hopeless romanticism goes to you.” He lowered my propped up leg carefully before grabbing the other. He added more lotion to his hands.

“Well I’m honored,” my voice tilted into a moan, back arching as he found a particularly sore spot on my calf. His eyes were glued to my torso, my belly button just peeking out from the bottom of Logan’s shirt, nipples hard enough to point under the fabric. His movement mimicked his work on my other leg, knuckles pushing deep into my tight muscles. He was able to be more thorough with this thigh since he didn’t have a bruise to dodge around. I gasped and moaned, being over dramatic just to see the look on his face. As his hands crept farther up my hips, I spread my legs wider, trying to entice him closer.

The lotion faded but his touch didn't, fingers going under my shirt. “You’re quiet.” He nodded, middle finger dipping into my belly button and making me laugh.

“Logan gets like this sometimes.” I cock my head in question. “He gets quiet and will just touch my face. Especially after we get back from jobs. I never really understood it.” He traced up my stomach in soft sweeps, catching the edges of my ribs. “But he’s a grumpy asshole so if I mention he’s doing it, he goes and pouts.” The shirt whispers up my skin as he exposes more of me to him, the bottom curve of my breast visible, and he takes the opportunity to run his thumbs along the sensitive skin. “I get it now though.” I wiggled my hips farther down the bed and Wade drew them higher, resting them on his thighs. “I’m not one to talk about my feelings, and if I do, it’s usually in ways that make people think I’m deranged.”

“Well you are,” I teased. He pressed feather light kisses to my knees before throwing them over his shoulders.

“But you love that about me, right?”

“Ooh, throwing around the big L huh?” Wade grinned.

“Why shouldn’t I? Life is short.”

“Mine is, you and Logan will live forever, won’t you?” I reached up, mapping his face.

“Logan will outlive the sun on pure spite. Who knows for me,” he inched my shirt over my chest, exposing myself completely to him. “I haven’t always been like this. I used to have to worry about my life. It always felt like I saw one wrong step away from dying. I used to be way more reckless.” I raised an eyebrow and he chuckled. He tested the lengths of his healing factor beyond recklessness. “Let’s not point out my flaws while I’m trying to be sweet and open. I at least am guaranteed to live when I do dumb shit now.” I held up my hands in surrender and they moved to his forearms instead. “Even then I didn’t see a point in being guarded and ‘reasonable’. If I loved someone, I loved them.” I swallowed and I knew my cheeks were dusted with pink. “When you were taken, I realized I hadn’t told you. I don’t expect you to say it back but I just want you to know.” He circled my nipples, drawing them to peaks, and a soft sound caught in my chest. “Just think about it, yeah?”

“I don’t need to,” I mumbled, pushing my chest into his hands. Wade’s mouth opened just as the apartment door was shoved open. My body goes tense for a moment, expecting an intruder, but Wade gave a playful tug on my exposed nipples.

“Just the old man,” he reassured. I could hear the crinkle of paper bags being placed on my counter, the clink of my keys as he dropped them into my purse, then the light padding of Logan’s feet on the hardwood.

“I see you’re awake,” Logan said. He strode to where Wade and I were tangled, leaning down to give me a brief kiss, his leather jacket creaking as he did. “You’re a nice sight to come home to.” I preened under the compliment. Wade tugs the shirt back over my chest with an overly jealous huff.

“Am I not nice to come home to? And where is my loving smooch?” Logan rolls his eyes but gives in, grabbing Wade’s chin with a harsh grip and giving him a rough kiss. But Logan draws back before Wade wants him to and he chuckles at Wade’s pout. “You’re so mean to me.” Logan shakes his head, straightening, his arms crossing.

“Uh huh. If you excuse me, I’m going to make us dinner since you,” he points an accusing finger at Wade, “would set the place on fire.” Logan, as if he couldn’t help himself, gave me another peck on the forehead. “Do you need anything princess?”

“Well for one, keep Wade out of the kitchen. I don’t have renters insurance.” Logan clicked his tongue, heading back out the bedroom.

“You need that, especially if you’re keeping us around.” Logan disappeared around the corner. I slid my legs off Wade’s shoulders, sitting up to kiss his nose.

“I’m going to go out by him, see if he needs any help.”

“Yeah, okay, are you sure you don’t just want to stare at his big bulging muscles?”

“That’s just a bonus."

Wade signed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll come with you, can’t let him hog all your attention.”

“I have to go to the bathroom first.” I swung my legs over the edge of the bed but paused. Wade slid off, offering his hands to me. I wanted to refuse, to try and do it myself, but I was afraid of my leg giving out from under me, so I allowed him to help me up. There was a dull throb but no stabs of pain or awful trembles. I appreciated that Wade let me lean on him and walk myself. I felt weak as is. These two men could heal from anything and didn’t seem to feel, or care about, pain and I was nearly debilitated by a thigh wound.

“Can I come with you?” I walked on my stiff leg into the bathroom, flicking the light on.

“No Wade, I can pee by myself.”

“Aw come on, I can hold your hand.” I shook my head, closing the door on him. I took in my appearance reflected back at me in the mirror over my sink. I looked like a mess. There were lines from my pillow pressed into my cheek and my hair was sticking in every direction. I swallowed.

I knew I needed to look, to get the anxiety out of the way.

I nearly gagged at the sight of my thigh. The spot, about the size of my spread hand, was deep purple, nearly black. Green and yellow spiderwebbed across the edge. There were broken blood vessels across my entire thigh. I touched it timidly and scrunched my face at the odd numbness. It didn’t hurt to touch, the pain had settled deep into my flesh. The doctor had told me that it would heal from the outside in, so this bruise would be here for a while. The longer I stared, the more I grew to accept it. I had been fucking stabbed and walked away with just this nasty mark. It was the best outcome I could have. I quickly used the toilet and brushed my teeth before exiting to the living room. I found Wade on my couch, tv already switched on, scrolling through my last streaming app. He finally made his decision and I heard the recap of the previous week's Bachelor episode. I had been half way through a rewatch when I was taken.

“Why am I even surprised you are a fan?”

“Where else do you think I got my charm and narcissistic tendencies?”

I found Logan unloading the three overflowing grocery bags into neat groups. There were packages of meat, fresh fruits and vegetables, cookies, and of course, a six pack of beer.

“No, no, sit down.” He hadn’t even looked up. I ignored him, limping closer. My hands traveled under his jacket, wrapping around his waist, laying my head between his shoulder blades. The leather was soft against my cheek, well worn and well loved. He stilled, one hand encompassing my overlapped wrists. “I don’t need your help.”

“Perfect,” I hummed, “I wasn’t offering it. Just stand there and let me hug you.” I wanted to crawl under his jacket, to be completely flush with him, to pin him close. A blissful moment passed.

“Your leg is shaking.”

“I know.”

“Then go sit down.” I lightly head butted his back.

“Stop being bossy.”

“Stop being stubborn.” He turned in my arms, pinning me in place with an exasperated expression. He traced my face with his rough fingers, lingering on the bruises still on my cheek. Then he sighed, resigned.

“Fine, you can stay over here. But I can’t have you latched on to me like a tumor. Go lean somewhere.” I knew that’s the best I would get. I picked a small section of my counter that would keep me out of Logan’s way. He had clearly inspected my cabinet layout before shopping as he put everything where I would. Eventually he started on dinner: steak, rice, and a salad. Wade was completely enthralled by the Bachelor, shouting dating advice at the tv to try and save the bachelor from his many mistakes. I watched Logan chop vegetables with rapt attention. He had shrugged off his leather jacket, leaving him just in a tight t-shirt. Everytime his hand flexed over the knife or as he grabbed a pan, the prominent veins popped under his skin. I felt like I could watch him for hours.

He drifted nearer to my perch, grabbing a beer from my fridge. I stuck my foot out to catch his thigh and guide him closer. Once I was able, I hooked my fingers through his belt loops, wedging his body between my spread legs. He took a large gulp of his beer before it clinked against the counter, his hands braced on either side of my hips. I could smell the lingering smoke of his cigar, the barest hint of a cologne. “Need something princess?” I bit my lip as I smirked.

“Can I ask for that kiss now?” His thumb tugged my lip free of my teeth. I sucked it into my mouth, tongue brushing against the tip. A tiny moan caught in his throat. Just the sound, knowing I made the stoic man weak, shot heat through my veins.

I drop his thumb and grab the neckline of his shirt, drawing him closer so our lips could connect. For a moment my stomach drops as he stays still against me. He exhaled, breath coasting across my face. Then he’s kissing back. It’s slow, long languid strokes against each other. His hand caressed the side of my neck, thumb against my pulse point, his calloused palm a pleasant scrape. There’s no rush, no desperation like before in the bathroom with Wade. That tension, his resistance to me wanting him, has seemingly evaporated. I plucked his shirt from his jeans, hands exploring his torso, tracing the lines and ridges there. His head tipped to the side and mine mirrored it. His tongue stroked against my lip, begging entrance, which I freely gave. The wheaty tang of beer is heavy on him and it never tasted so good. I wanted to sink into this feeling, this pleasant hum of contentedness, but his mouth moved too soon from mine. It traveled across my cheek, along my jaw, before hoovering over my ear.

“You can get the rest of your kisses later, okay sweetheart?” I whined in frustration. “Do you want to eat burnt food?” He pressed one last kiss to my cheek before extricating himself from me. I wanted to draw him back, say fuck it to the food. But I just sighed.

“Fine.” He grinned. He flipped the steaks, checking under the pot lid at the status of the rice. Well, at least I get to watch those hands again. Of course, I rarely ever get what I want. The food was done too quickly and despite my stomach feeling like it was about to eat itself, I mourned watching him. I accepted my plate gratefully, pressing my lips to his in thanks. My steak was cut into thin strips, perfectly done, while his and Wade’s were still whole. I noticed a lack of a knives on their plates as we went to the living room.

“Not Victoria!” Wade cried, flopping back on the couch in defeat. I nestled next to him, plate balanced precariously on my knee. Logan, realizing we all wouldn’t fit on my tiny couch, sat on the floor in front of me, his wide back against my shins. To my horror, and amusement, both of them picked their steaks up with their hands and ripped into them. I watched a trail of juice run down Wade’s chin. He turned and smiled. “He’s rubbed off on me,” he nudged Logan’s shoulder with his knee. “He gets a hunk of meat in front of him and he just has to rip into it. When he first saw my ass, he tore a chunk out.”

“I did not.” Logan grumbled. “I just bit you, it’s not my problem your skin is thin.” Wade shook his head in exasperation.

“He loves downplaying his accomplishments.” I hummed, mouth still full of food. Logan was a great cook, the steak practically melted in my mouth.

“If I’m between you two, could we keep the stabbing and biting to a minimum? I’d rather not have to buy new sheets all the time because you two keep ruining them.”

“Aw,” Wade cooed, his breath ghosting across my cheek. “Come on baby, you already stabbed me once. Don’t you want to do it again?” I spun to face him.

“No,” my voice was louder than intended from shock, “didn’t it hurt?” Wade shrugged.

“Yeah, of course it did. But if your wet pussy is around my dick, the pain doesn’t matter. Probably just make me come harder.” My face was hot and I squirmed. He changed in the most attractive way when he spoke about sex. A look of brazen confidence came over him, his voice smug.

It turned me on.

The idea of injuring him was unappealing and sent a wave of fear over me. But if it was something he would want… “I don't even need a super sniffer to know you want to try it out. I promise I fuck so much harder when knives are involved.”

“Wade,” Logan warned.

“Doesn’t she smell good? Good enough to eat huh?” My thighs squeezed together and I swallowed. Wade was leaning in closer, like a spring about to snap. Logan’s hand shot up, gripping the other man’s chin, and yanked him to face the tv.

“Leave her alone. Don’t make me put my claws through your head.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time. You know your claws just make me even more sensitive.” Logan slapped Wade’s cheek, not hard enough to injure, just enough to make a crack. Wade groaned but settled back into the couch, giving Logan’s hair a little tug. We finished dinner in relative silence, Logan and I were quiet while Wade continued his narration, critiquing everything from the fashion to the date ideas. With Wade’s attention off me, the sudden flash of arousal faded, but not totally.

Once our plates were clean, I grabbed them before Logan could even attempt to move. “Hey, let me do that,” he grumbled, trying to grab my shirt to stop me. I evade his hand with a giggle. I run the dirty dishes under the faucet, putting them, along with the pots and pans Logan used to cook, in the dishwasher. “You should go and sit back down. Let me take care of it.”

“Jesus!” I yelped, the edge of the knife I had been handwashing catching the tip of my finger. “Need to put a bell on you,” I murmured, letting the warm water from the faucet run over the cut. It wasn’t deep but stung like a paper cut. Logan removed my finger, examining the injury. A thin line of blood oozed from it. “It’s okay, just needs a bandaid. Should have seen it after I got a mandolin.” He grunts, kissing the cut, before letting my hand fall. I flicked the water off.

“Have you taken anything yet?”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t hurt Logan, just aches.” He drifted closer, our bodies flush to each other, my hips bumping the counter.

“I’d much rather you take it now,” he nearly purrs, gruff voice tender. “That way it won’t hurt later.” His hands caged me in.

“I think you just like telling me what to do.”

Logan shrugged, “one of you two needs to listen to me.” I hummed, considering, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Fine, you win.” It looked like he was going to pull away but my arms tightened in warning. “For being so nice and following your orders, I want another kiss.” He huffed a laugh.

“Are we using them are bargaining chips now?”

“Yes, you’re the one who keeps saying I’ll get more later. So I’m asking for at least one now.”

“Okay princess, you get whatever you want.” He gently removed my arms, grabbing me a glass of water, as well as the bottle of painkillers. “Here,” he plucked one of the little pills out, holding it for me. I open my mouth in response, tongue out. “You and Wade,” he grumbled, “always trying to tease me.” His fingers graze my tongue as he puts the pill on it. “Now drink,” the command in his voice made my skin prickle. I take the glass dutifully, swallowing the pill down, making a satisfied ah noise once I was done. “Here’s your reward.” The kiss was so brief I thought I had imagined it.

“Hey,” I growled, “don’t be mean.” Logan was smug as he brushed some loose hair from my face. “Fine,” I wiggled from between his arms, heading back to the living room. “I’ll go ask Wade for some.”

“Oooh smoochie time!”

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shreesaastha-textile · 1 year ago

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#textile industry #lab coat shop near me #hotel bed sheet suppliers in pune #corporate dress for male #What is the best material for chef uniform?

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innorogers · 3 months ago

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Nightmare

Steve Rogers x Reader (You)

Summary: Steve stood in front of the mirror, staring back at him, was a man madly in love. But as much as he wanted to be only that—just a man in love—he wasn’t. Falling so hard for you that he didn’t want to face the reality. There was still a world beyond your home, and he had to face it.

Warning: Minors DNI / A little smut / bj / Angst / Hydra Past / Missunderstandings / He wants to say I love you / This is getting dark as the WB logos in HP movies / Strugglings / He is so in love with you / Your past is coming back and kick your both asses

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson

Also: You don't have to read the previous chapters, but it would enhance the experience if you did. And thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️

Chapter 1: Insomnia | Chapter 2: Lucid | Chapter 3: Reverie

“God…!” Steve's head falls back, his body arching, knuckles turning white as he holds on tightly onto the sheets, moans ragged and labored, his chest rising and falling covered in sweat.

His hand tucking your hair, trying to be as gentle as possible, but he is finding that impossible. As you fasten your mouth and hand movements, more deep breaths are escaping his lips as waves of pleasure wash over him.

"Babe... that feels so good... don't stop... Please don't stop..."

Your quickened pace is driving him more and more over the edge, as suddenly his entire body lost in pleasure, his head falling back onto the pillow behind him, the sheets gripping tightly in his hands as he releases warm and low in your mouth.

“Jesus…” His body shuddering as he came hard, thoroughly quenched til the very last drop, his breath coming in gasps and pants, not being able to speak as he looks at you: puffy lips, disheveled hair, sweat drops in your perfect breasts, your silky skin marked with his handprints all over body, and you were wiping your lips.

“Damn...” He pulls you close for a kiss, still breathing heavily, as if trying to recover from his ecstasy. “Babe, don’t… look at me like that… or I’m gonna lose it... again.”

“Wait, what?” You laugh, stepping out of bed. “That’s on me?! I didn’t do anything this time.” You were barely awake when he started. It’s not like it’s your fault you weren’t wearing anything from last night.

“That’s... arguable.” Steve murmurs, sinking back into the pillows, still riding the high of the moment. His breathing starts to slow, but then he notices you’re already in the bathroom. “Wait, no cuddling?!”

“We’ve been ‘cuddling’ all night!” You call from the shower. “And... we’ve talked about this. Tony is gonna be here in an hour.” And I don’t want to smell like sex.

Steve chuckles in resignation, raising his voice so you can hear him over the water. “Can I join you?”

“We both know how that’s gonna end…”

“Yeah, yeah, alright...” he laughs, reluctantly pulling himself out of bed, grabs his discarded clothes, making a half-hearted attempt to tidy the room. “God, we made a mess in here, didn’t we?”

By the time you’re out of the shower, the room is already cleaned up (he's done his best). It’s a far cry from how things used to be: Steve's things are everywhere now. His toothbrush in your bathroom, clothes hanging in your closet, some files scattered on the desk in your lab that's across from your private dorm.

You’re not even sure when it happened, but your secluded, tucked away 20 minutes from the main Avengers compound lab, has become more than just yours. It makes sense, actually, he wasn’t leaving at night. Or in the mornings. Or... really, ever.

At first, Steve would come over for dates. Then those dates turned into 'I'll come by later' and eventually into 'whenever he had the chance.' Now his mug is in the sink, his slippers are under your bed, and his coat has claimed a permanent spot by the door.

He’s here. So, naturally, Sam and Natasha started coming by too.

They didn’t want to at first—especially after Tony warned them: Don’t go near the place if the windows are foggy or steamed. And the first time they showed up, the windows were, in fact, foggy.

So, they waited outside, feeding the mosquitoes and staring at the overgrown grass.

But they had important “For your eyes only” files, and waiting beat facing Commander Hill’s irritation later. After counting all the daisies in the field—twice—they finally gave in. Sam knocked (covering his eyes), you answered (fully dressed), and they came in for a cup of tea. A carrot cake later, they became regulars.

Your lab has a charm they can’t resist: plants hang from every corner, spilling over shelves and framing the windows that let in the golden sunlight. The warm, earthy scent of the greenery mixes with the subtle perfume from your humidifiers. A soft glow of the sunlight filters through, casting a golden hue over everything. The kitchen always smells like freshly baked cookies, and the tea is good, but the coffee is great.

Your space feels like a hidden sanctuary in the sunset. And amidst all this, there’s a relaxed and laughing, perfectly at home Steve. One that they’ve never seen before.

So of course, big boss Mr. Stark wasn’t going to be excluded.

“Remind me again why he’s coming?” Steve asked as he stepped into the shower. You were brushing your teeth, and he leaned over to kiss your shoulder, and…Yup, you were right; he knew exactly how things would’ve ended if he’d joined you earlier.

“I don’t know… there’s no meeting agenda. But technically, we are living in his compound, so…” you said, now brushing your hair and spritzing perfume. Then, after a pause, you added, “I think it has something to do with the New Era Project.”

Steve didn’t respond right away, but you caught the frown on his face through the steam of the shower. “Are you part of that?” he asked after a moment.

“Nope.” You began towel-drying your hair. “I don’t make or design weapons. I just fix your gear and armory and… sometimes I pitch cool new ideas to Tony during brainstorm sessions. You know, Level A clearance, remember?”

Steve chuckled—yeah, he remembered. You had access to all files and records, but only if Tony Stark himself granted it. Actually, he was the only one who could authorize your access and tokens. There were only two people in the entire organization with that kind of clearance: you and Peter Parker.

Your existence here was… special. Only level 3 and above tech personnel knew about you, and they practically worshiped you. You were the one who “optimized their code, fine-tuned algorithms that seemed impossible to crack, recalibrated testing protocols when simulations failed, and stepped in when machines were on the verge of catastrophic failure.” (That was Bruce’s wording. Steve didn't get shit of what he said, just referred to you as “my brilliant genius who fixes all that stuff.”) And the thing that stood out the most? You never took credit for the successes.

Selfless. That was the word Tony used when describing you. But he also said: “And that drives me nuts, because when you lack human ambition, what’s going to keep you around, right?”

Human ambition. The phrase echoed in Steve’s mind as he turned off the water with a sigh. He knew he had been avoiding the truth. Falling so hard for you that he didn’t want to face the reality. There was more to you than he fully understood, and deep down, he wasn’t sure he was ready to know the whole truth.

“I’ll make coffee,” you called from outside, interrupting his thoughts. “You staying for breakfast, or heading straight to training?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay for coffee,” he replied, wrapping a towel around himself and standing in front of the mirror.

There, staring back at him, was a man madly in love. But as much as he wanted to be only that—just a man in love—he wasn’t. There was still a world beyond your lab, and he had to face it.

He sighed again, suspecting exactly what Tony was going to discuss with you.

The coffee was ready, and croissants were on the table when Tony arrived. He greeted you with a cheek kiss and smirked at Steve, who was just walking out the bathroom with a towel around his waist.

“There’s a scene I thought I’d never see.” Tony quipped as you placed a mug in front of him. “Aren’t you late, Cap?”

“Aren’t you early?” Steve shot back from the room.

“Actually, I’m late. I hung out in the car for a bit.” Tony tilted his head toward the window, a mocking grin spreading across his face. “The windows were steamed up, so I…” he clicked his tongue, “didn’t want to interrupt.”

He turned to you, smiling. “This coffee’s great, hon. Any chance you’d consider making it a regular thing in the common room?”

“No. She wouldn’t,” Steve answered, now dressed in his training gear. He kissed you goodbye, shaking his head with a smirk. “Sorry babe, gotta go. Guess you were right, I am late.”

Tony shot him an I told you so look.

“Coffee.” you said, handing Steve a travel mug, then cupped his face with a smile. “Kiss.”

Inhaling your fresh perfume, Steve sighed, enchanted, as he leaned down to kiss you. “Thanks…” He held back the I love you that nearly escaped his lips.

“Get something to eat after training, okay?” you said casually, unaware of how close he was to confessing.

“Yes ma’am.” He gave you a lingering glance, clearly wanting another kiss—or a few—before turning to Tony. “Easy, ok?” he warned.

“You hear that, hon? Easy on me,” Tony said with a grin, raising his mug to wave Steve off. “See you later, Cap.”

As the door closed behind Steve, Tony looked at you, “You know… that’s the best I’ve seen him in years.” He mused, his fingers tracing the rim of his mug.

Then, after a brief pause, with a playful smile. “And the best I’ve seen of you, of course.”

You smiled back. “It’s not like you’ve been around much to see me anyway.” You patted his hand.

“Not that I’m complaining. You’ve given me all the quiet and peace I could ever ask for.” You glanced down at the table with a soft smile. “And purpose.”

Tony stayed silent as the golden morning light filtered through the windows, casting lines of warmth and shadow across the table.

“Did you… tell him?” he asked, hesitating just as the light reached his mug.

“No. I, um…” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m scared.”

“God,” he sighed in resignation. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. And…” he shook his head, rolling his eyes, “I think his problem will eventually be, ‘Why didn’t you come sooner?’”

He huffed. “It’s your call, but trust me—he always wants to know the truth, no matter how hard it might be.”

“I know. It’s just…” You admitted quietly, “I’m scared of him being… disappointed.”

“Then he can fuck off,” Tony shot back without hesitation, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And die alone on his moral highlands.”

You laughed. Tony always knew how to make you laugh. After a few moments, you softened and asked, “What’s wrong, Tony? What’s really troubling you?”

“You mean besides the fact that one of my top-secret employees, whom I’ve kept hidden from everyone’s sight for years, is actually dating… I mean, no, we’re way past dating, right? I’d say… in a relationship with one of the most famous men in the world, who’s also the high commander of this… you know, little group of heroes that saves the universe from time to time? Yeah, there’s actually one tiny, tiny thing that keeps me awake at night…”

You sipped your coffee, still smiling. “What?”

“I’m having second thoughts about the New Era Project.”

You raised your eyebrows, and asked after some pause. “Do you want me to join?” Because you would, if he asked.

“No.” He was firm. “No, it’s not that. I’d never ask you to do that. It’s just… I’m having trouble piecing everything together. I don’t have the full picture. ” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“The UN have been a pain in my ass since I flew out in a can suit in Afghanistan, but now… they’re... They’re being… nice.”

“And that’s a bad thing.” You raised an eyebrow, not sure whether you were asking or confirming.

“It’s incredibly dangerous and extremely suspicious.”

“I thought our little demonstration of power during Thanos would’ve made everyone play nice,” you said, grimacing as if to say, Duh.

“They even offered to cancel the Sokovian Accords.”

“Wait, what?” You blinked, surprised. “Is that even still a thing? I thought after the Blip…”

“Nobody had the time or the mood to talk about that during the Snap, so it just stayed there.” Tony explained, handing you his mug as you stood up to refill it.

“Well, that’s a generous offer,” you said, pouring more coffee. “But as you said…”

You paused, thinking for a moment.

“If rationality and facts can’t give you the full picture, maybe intuition will.” You sat back down, placing the mug in front of Tony. “What does your gut tell you? Animal instincts in the face of danger are 99% accurate, you know.”

Tony’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. “I don’t know. That’s what’s keeping me up at night. We’ve faced big threats before, but this... this feels different. Like they’re not reacting to a threat, but preparing for one.”

“Patience.” you murmured.

“Say what?” Tony hadn’t caught it.

“The Art of War,” you recalled. “‘He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious.’” You nodded. “So if the picture isn’t clear, you wait for them to make the first move.”

That look crossed Tony’s face—the one he wore when you or Bruce finished a thought before him, or when you completed a task well before the deadline with an unexpected approach. The “finally, someone speaking my language” look.

“They’ve already made the first move, haven’t they?” you observed him closely.

Tony sat up, a slight smile of pride tugging at his lips. “Yes. They’re sending someone to… cooperate.”

“So… how do I fit into all this?” you asked quietly. “Strategies of war, deciphering enemy intentions, gathering intel, hacking systems… you’ve got quite a team for that. The Team. How can I help?”

Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair as the sunlight shifted, casting shadows across the room. He paused, staring out the window before turning back to you, something close to worry in his eyes for the first time.

“You fit in because you’re one of the few people I trust to see things clearly. No agenda. No ego. You can do things quietly, behind the scenes. And, frankly, you’re smarter than half the people working on this project…” He hesitated and added with a smirk, “...or the entire compound.”

After a brief pause, Tony confessed in a giving up tone.

“And because I need your superpowers to sense if this guy is hiding something—something that our metal detectors and scanners can’t catch. These days, I don’t even trust that the people we meet are… well, human. Thanks to Danvers.”

Just like at the opening ceremony, he needed you to assess if there was anything suspicious about the people present. You nodded in understanding.

“Who are they sending?”

There were two files in front of him, both giving him the same headache. And Steve didn’t wanted to start with either of them.

One was yours: HE0012, “Twelve.” Your code name—Hydra Experiment Number Twelve—and your real name, (If Twelve could even considered a name, but that was they’d given to you) both stamped on a complete profile folder of your classified information: layers upon layers of secrecy wrapped around your past, barely considered something near light reading.

The second file, labeled “FYEO - New Era Project” was a brick of a report, hundreds of pages long, more of a book than a document. It detailed, in excruciating pain-ass precision, the project's goal: a forced reconciliation between the Avengers and Stark Industries. The initiative was meant to foster collaborative research and development of cutting-edge technologies designed to bolster global defense systems.

Officially, the report framed it as ensuring global protection “in case of need,” but Steve knew the truth beneath the diplomatic phrasing. It was about weapons—gear, tools, anything needed to combat the next alien invasion, or any kind of catastrophic threat Earth might face.

Steve remembered Tony’s struggle with this report, how the stress weighed on him. Tony had been stuck between igniting another Civil War or throwing the damn thing in the nearest firepit.

But seems now, that Tony had done what Tony does best: handed the problem to Steve.

Damn it, Tony.

“Captain.” Jarvis’s polite voice sounded through the nearest screen. “A guest has just entered the main building. Agent Charles Frazer from the New Era Special Committee has been announced.”

Steve sighed, shoving both files aside. He couldn’t even catch a break. “Background?” He asked as he glanced at the screen, pulling up Frazer’s information.

“Agent Frazer is currently serving with the UN Special Commission, previously tasked with supervising enhanced human activities under the Sokovian Accords. Before that, he was a top agent at MI6.” Jarvis relayed in his usual, steady tone.

“Great. I’ll meet him in the lobby. Where’s Tony?”

“Sir is en route from R&D 001 and will arrive in three and a half minutes. Agent Frazer is already in the lobby, Captain.”

“Fine.” Steve muttered, standing up. “Also ask Commander Hill to meet us there.”

From the second-floor glass railing, Steve looked down and spotted Frazer standing in the waiting area. The man was definitely an agent, but his military background was obvious in the way he stood—rigid, alert, scanning the room, it all pointed to someone used to being on guard, despite his polite, diplomatic smile and the small nods he gave to passing staff.

After a moment of observation, Steve made his way downstairs before Frazer could notice he was being watched.

“Agent.” Steve greeted, extending a firm hand.

“Captain.” Charles Frazer responded with a wide, courteous smile. One that appeared genuine but not intrusive. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Steve was about to continue when Tony, Bruce, and you entered the room, caught up in a heated conversation.

“…so wait, are you telling me the material adapted in real-time? Enhanced its resistance with every applied force threshold—like it learned from the stress points?” Bruce’s voice was filled with astonished excitement.

“Yeah, we saw a 32% increase in tensile strength under standard shear stress.” You replied softly, barely looking up from your coffee mug.

“What about quantum resonance feedback?” Tony waved a hand, pressing for more details. “Is it boosting absorption capabilities?”

“It’s actually forming a self-reinforcing lattice that distributes the force across the entire molecular framework, but…” You trailed off as you noticed Steve. A soft smile lit up your face, your eyes brightening upon seeing him.

Steve, for a split second, returned the smile but quickly recovered his professional demeanor. “Dr. Lancaster,” he greeted you, then nodded to the others. “Tony, Bruce—this is Agent…”

A loud crash cut him off.

Steve whipped around to see you standing there, your face as pale as your lab coat. Your mug lay shattered on the floor, coffee splattered across your clothes, but you didn’t seem to notice. Your gaze was locked on Agent Frazer’s face, your breath frozen, your body completely still.

“…Four?” The word barely escaped your lips, a whisper under the weight of everyone’s surprise.

Agent Frazer’s reaction was almost identical.

His confident smile vanished in an instant—from confusion, to shock, and then to an almost frozen state mirroring yours, his eyes reflected the same haunting familiarity. It wasn’t just shock; it was a mix of fear, disbelief, and perhaps even something darker—like a flood of old memories being unlocked all at once.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, staring at each other in stunned silence. Slowly, Frazer’s gaze locked onto yours, and recognition began to settle over his face. He slowly lifted a trembling hand toward your chin, his voice cracking as he murmured, “Twelve?”

“How…?”

“Let’s take this to a more private room.” Tony, ever the first to break the silence, said firmly even before you could go on. His eyes weren’t on you—they were glued to Steve, gauging his reaction.

Steve stood rigid, his jaw was set, his face unreadable as he observed the silent exchange between you and Frazer.

“Yes, let’s do that.” Steve said, his voice firm but soft. A few people in the background had started to notice the unusual scene unfolding and were beginning to glance your way. So it was to act quickly. He stepped closer to you, a part of him instinctively wanting to put a hand on your shoulder, or hold your hand to offer some comfort in the midst of the shock, but he hesitated. His hand hovered for a second before he drew it back.

As the group moved to a quieter, more secluded room, the air was thick with unspoken questions, and no one dared to break the fragile silence. All eyes were on you and Agent Frazer, as though the past had suddenly come crashing into the present, and no one was sure how to navigate the ruins.

You met with Commander Hill in the middle of the hallway. She quickly noted the tension in the unusual group, scanning Agent Frazer as fast as she could with her x-ray inspection mode and cautious glare.

“Is… everything okay?” She instantly reacted, reading the room. “Meeting 9 is available.” She looked at Steve and Tony and communicated in their own silent way: And it’s ready.

Ready meant that the room could provide total privacy while also functioning as the most advanced interrogation room. Everything would be recorded, with real-time facial expression analysis by Friday or Jarvis. The room’s ambiance would shift according to participants' moods, creating the most relaxing and comforting environment possible, encouraging the participants to say anything and everything that needed to be known.

But of course, you didn’t know that, and neither did Agent Frazer— or Four. You hadn’t yet recovered from the shock, so you barely heard Tony when he said, “We’ll just leave you to it,” or noticed the worried look Steve had given you. You didn’t look back; your eyes remained locked on Four’s.

“How…” You broke the silence after a long pause, sensing that both your breaths had softened. You began to regain some rationality and composure. “How did you escape? I… I thought you were dead…”

Four closed his eyes for a moment, trying to stay as calm as possible.

He didn’t know where to start with.

“I was…”

He didn’t look at you; his gaze was fixed on the floor, lost in some distant moment from the past.

“The cryostasis pod that held me…malfunctioned, but instead of shutting down, it went into some sort of low-energy survival mode—almost like it was trying to protect me. Left me hanging on the edge of life, just the basics kept intact.”

His accent was you remembered, a perfect blend of British and Russian, a strange yet polished combination of both. He talked as in Times New Roman.

“I reckon I stayed that way for years… like being stuck in some frozen limbo. Like wandering in some desert between hell and heaven.”

Four’s lips curled into a fragile, ironic smile: “That Hydra fortress in Caithness was too well-hidden. I’d have gone unnoticed until I wasted away, but when Hydra fell, every strategic spot on the globe became suspicious. British intel ran sweeps over the area… and they found me.”

You remained silent, memories flashing through your mind. You knew why the cryostasis pod had malfunctioned in the first place.

After the Battle of New York, the remaining Hydra forces had started shutting down their less critical underground fortresses. Caithness, where Four was held, had probably been vital during the war, but your files were far too confidential, buried too deep to be easily retrieved. That place must have been overlooked as obsolete.

Then came the Battle in Washington, when Steve crushed Hydra for good, and Black Widow exposed Hydra’s files, Caithness would have landed on British radar.

The world had been holding its breath, watching the Avengers’ actions since New York.

It wouldn’t surprise you if British intelligence wanted to keep Four for their own research—a super soldier hidden, repaired, filled with selective truths, and molded into a loyal agent. Their own secret Avenger, integrated into their best special forces.

“They kept your memory?” you asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

“Bits of it.” Four replied, offering a smile, sensing your concern. He wanted to ease the pain of what he’d gone through during his rebirth. “Britain’s tech wasn’t as advanced as Hydra’s.”

He glanced around and sighed. “And they were definitely far away from… this. They didn’t push it too far, just in case it might… break me and ruin everything.”

“Do you remember… everything?” you asked, finally looking into his eyes.

“Not everything. Just pieces, fragments. Sometimes I get flashbacks in my dreams…” Four’s eyes softened as he looked at you, a faint smile touching his lips, his voice tender with nostalgia.

“You were a brilliant tree climber... I remember that odd old oak tree deep in the forest. Grand and ancient. You’d scramble up to the top branches and shake them until the leaves fell, making a pile on the ground. Then Five and Seven would dash over and dive in, like a pair of foxes.”

“And once, you hid a rock under the leaves, and Seven jumped right onto it…” You were lost in the memory too.

“He hit it so hard…” Four chuckled, his gaze drifting to that long-lost time.

“We did everything to stop the bleeding before heading back, but he looked like…”

“A smashed tomato can.” You both said at the same time. And then you both laughed.

“I was grounded, of course. Bloody big time.” Four leaned back in his chair. “Six days of detention because, naturally, our blood was ‘precious,’ and Seven’s was everywhere. They had to clean up so thoroughly, it was like they burned the place down.”

“And you came by on the fifth night…” Four’s went gentle, as if telling a bedtime story. “You snuck in and gave me a piece of bread. And a golden leaf.”

He reached out and took your hand, squeezing it tight.

“I’m so glad to see you, little sister.” His voice was filled with pain.

“When I woke up… I thought I was alone in this world.”

“Me too.” You whispered, though your eyes were elsewhere, lost in the shadows of the past.

“Me too…”

Steve could feel his teeth clenching. He tried desperately to release the pressure building in his fists, but the anger was overwhelming.

He suddenly understood why he hadn’t been able to even open your file before—it was fear. He didn’t want to feel this powerless, like he does now, knowing there was nothing he could do to change what you’d been through.

Tony might have made a joke, something like, “Well, at least he’s only her brother.” but Steve could sense the tension in his voice.

“This is so…” Fucked up. Sam stood beside Steve, watching closely. “Any lie detected?”

“Facial analysis shows 99% veracity. The 1% is due to human factors beyond my calculations.” Friday’s voice echoed through the room.

“If the story’s true, it’s not impossible,” Natasha chimed in, raising an eyebrow. “When the files went public, someone must have taken action.”

“It just smells like there’s a cat hidden in the closet, y’all know?” Sam muttered, arms crossed, shaking his head. “Like, really? Now? The agent overseeing all this Sokovia Accords 2.0 stuff just so happens to be ex-Hydra, ex-experiment, and he shows up now? Like literally walking right to her. Now? When she’s…” He gestured pointedly. “With Steve? Why not before?”

“Maybe he was gone during the Blip?” Natasha suggested. “Look, I’m just trying to figure this out. Not saying the guy’s a saint, but…”

She glanced at Steve, who had turned into some kind of statue, staring at the screen, trying to read your every move, every reaction.

“We do have ex-Hydras doing just fine…” Bucky is one. You are one. Natasha didn’t say it, but it hung in the air, unspoken yet clear.

“Alright, first things first.” Maria stepped in, standing next to Steve. “What do we do with this guy? He’s still carrying the UN Special title, and…” She pulled up his file. “One thing’s for sure—his records are impeccable. At least on paper.”

Steve didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, where you were holding hands with Four. It wasn’t romantic, he could tell. You were pressing his hand, patting his back. You looked relaxed. The painful part of remembering was over, and now you were chatting about his life after MI6 gave him a new identity.

And you were smiling. You tilted your head slightly, something you always did when listening intently.

“Tony.” Steve suddenly spoke up, his voice low but steady. “Why are you so quiet?”

Steve hadn’t raised his voice, but the room instantly turned to Iron Man.

“Maybe I have nothing to say.”

“Or maybe it’s because I don’t want to know the answer.” Steve shot back, his tone sharper now. He didn’t say it aloud, but Tony knew. He knew exactly why Steve was looking at him like that.

But as always, Tony didn’t flinch under Steve’s scrutinizing glare, nor did he step back.

“I think Dr. Lancaster is just the perfect person for this job.” Tony said, quietly but with precision, locking eyes with Steve.

“Fuck! Tony!” Steve’s fists slammed down on the desk so hard that everything on it bounced. “She’s out of the New Era Project.” he said, gritting his teeth.

“She’s Level A.” Tony stepped closer, meeting Steve’s gaze up close.

“And she happens to be top of R&D. Yes, I asked her to be here this morning, to check on this guy… just like she’s been doing since day one when she entered this compound.”

“So yeah, she can show him around, talk about super-intelligent things that normal people won’t understand, as long as it fits within the clearance I’ve given her. It’s not like I’m ordering her to do anything.”

Tony leaned in even closer to Steve’s face. “You can stay and hang out if you want. But seriously… and this is me being brutally honest, like you’ve always wanted.” His voice was calm, firm, unwavering.

“Did you really think you could keep her out of this? Out of your life? Our life?”

He opened his arms slightly, giving Steve a knowing look. “Stop acting as your decisions are better than hers, Steve. She knew exactly what she was signing up for.”

“I’m honored, but my pressure it’s on its peaks.” Four muttered, walking beside you down the long aisle that led from “Sustainable Technologies & Environmental Innovation” to the “Space Exploration & Interstellar Travel Engineering” hall.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you caught the reflection in the sleek glass walls: a serious, determined, and ‘touch my girl by a hair and I’ll kill the fuck out of you’ Steve, and a ‘I have so much more important and real shit to deal with right now than this’ face Maria walking behind you.

“I mean I’m just a public employee. I expected both high commanders to receive me, but not to walk us all the way.” Four teased: “Remember when we had to escort the king during the war?”

“I thought that was the proudest day of your life.”

“It was, until this.” Four laughed, letting out a long, amused sigh after a pause. Then, more sincerely, “But you should be proud too, Twelve. Look at what you’ve accomplished.”

Four’s gaze lifted, drawn to the towering structures and intricate technology around him—robotics designed to repair spacecraft mid-flight, drones engineered for planetary terraforming. His eyes followed the sleek contours of prototype exosuits encased behind glass, shimmering with the pulse of energy cores yet to be tested.

Even with all the cutting-edge tech he’d seen around the world, he couldn’t help but admire the scale of innovation unfolding here—the flawless precision, the harmony between form and function, and the dedication and sense of unity the folks around here were putting on their work.

“Everything here... it’s like stepping into the future.” he said, his voice carrying a rare note of awe. “Back in the day, we only dreamt of machines like this. Now it’s real. I can feel the intelligence in the air, the potential of what this place can do.”

He paused in front of an android prototype, its sensors lighting up as though acknowledging his presence.

“This is what happens when visionaries are free to play with the impossible. And you are part of it. You should be proud. It’s the realization of everything we once hoped for. ”

Steve and Maria exchanged a glance at his words, and Steve’s gaze immediately shifted to you. He was desperate for you to turn, to look at him the way you always did—like you understood him without a single word needing to be spoken. But since the moment you walked out of Room 9 with Four, your gaze hadn’t found his. Not once.

You stayed silent upon your brother’s words. Your gaze was still, serene, and silent. There was no emotion beyond that on your face. Your eyes rested lightly on Four's expressions, then moved softly to the equipment he was examining. You were as still as a pond on a windless day. And your eyes…Steve could always interpret the emotions they held, if you offered him a glimpse, but you never did.

“Is it?” you murmured, emotionless. Neither Four nor Maria caught it, but Steve did. And it sent a cold shiver down his spine.

He watched you, hoping—no, needing—you to turn around, to meet his eyes with the same openness you always had. He knew you could feel his gaze, feel his desperate hope that you would just look at him. But you didn’t. You kept walking a few steps behind Four, and the space between you and Steve grew wider with every step.

He wanted to call your name, to pull you aside, to ask if you were okay, if this was too much for you. But something held him back. What if you didn’t respond the way he hoped? What if Four’s presence here was dragging you back into the person you were before? What if you weren’t the person he had fallen so deeply in love with? And what if… what if you didn’t love him back the way he loved you? Or worse, what if you were still exactly what Hydra wanted you to be?

What if…this is the real you?

Steve’s heart was at war with itself. He had fought through battles where the stakes were higher than anything he could imagine here, but the battlefield of emotions felt far more treacherous. His love for you was the one thing he held onto with unyielding certainty—something unshakable. But now, he felt it flickering, like a candle fighting to stay lit in a growing storm.

Every time he looked at you, searching for a sign that you still belonged to him in the way he believed you did, it felt like reaching out for something just beyond his grasp.

It wasn’t the distance you kept from him physically that hurt the most. It was the emotional wall—thick, invisible, but undeniably there. His rationale, the part of him that always tried to be fair, tried to stay calm, told him not to jump to conclusions, not to doubt you. But the love-struck, emotional side of him—the part that saw you as his everything—was falling down into the vast uncertain sea of fear.

Four’s voice pulled him back from his thoughts, he was talking in low, but Steve overheard anyway.

“What are you really working on?” He was genuinely curious: “I’ve always known you were the best of us in intelligence but…this is…” he said in an obvious ‘wow’: “Mr. Stark said that you are on top of R&D, and you are also guiding the way, so I bet it is something…dramatic.”

“I can show you my workspace.” You smirk quietly, your voice a little bit proud, as a sibling that wanted to show off her new toys: “It’s not…dramatic. At least not complicated for you to read.”

“I…” Steve spoke up at the same time he frowned, but held back on calling out your name: “Dr. Lancaster. I don’t think…”

“We’ll be fine, Captain.” You interrupted him, but he could only see your back when you answered, still not looking back for a second: “I’ve got the clearance, no worries.” You said as you walked straight forward without hesitation.

Of course, you weren't leading Four to your lab—your home with Steve, your recluse sanctuary out of the compounds. That would’ve been too much. Even for Steve, it would’ve crossed a line he couldn’t forgive, and you weren’t a monster, like, duh.

Instead, you led Four toward your personal workspace. Or how Tony liked to call it: "the genius playroom", where cutting-edge tech, half-finished projects, and too many abandoned coffee mugs cluttered the surfaces—remnants of late-night brainstorming sessions with him and Bruce.

The room was chaotic brilliance in its purest form. Holographic models of Stark tech hovered in the air like suspended thoughts, caught in an endless cycle of innovation. Transparent screens flashed data faster than any normal person could process: only a select few could follow the constant stream of figures and projections (Three, actually, if Wakandian minds, or Dr. Cho weren't around). Half-assembled drones and sleek energy cores, still pulsating with untapped potential, were scattered around workbenches. Tony’s famous bean bag chairs—“sometimes the ass needs to think before the brain catches up”—occupied one corner, breaking the space's otherwise high-tech aesthetic.

The room was alive with invention, buzzing with the frenetic energy of genius minds always in motion. It was your playground, your escape, and the damn Thursday’s night that you couldn’t make it home and Steve's always resent.

“Bloody hell...” Four’s voice broke through the hum of machinery as he stepped into the room. His eyes widened, slowly sweeping across the multitude of inventions and half-finished designs.

"This is... whoa...little sister, you did find your spot in the world, didn't you?" he muttered, genuine awe in his voice.

You watched him, standing close enough to catch every flicker of his gaze, how his eyes darted from one holographic projection to the next, lingering just a bit too long. As if he was, scanning.

"Well, welcome to The Crib." You said with a casual shrug, already moving toward one of the many touchscreens embedded into the workbenches. You tapped a few commands, and the room sprang to life. Holographic blueprints of your latest projects filled the space between you and Four.

"Where the magic is born. Core of the Avengers and Stark Industries inventions, we usually break a lot of rules here...and stuff, too."

Behind you, Steve and Maria stepped into the room, but your focus remained on the task at hand. Your heart began racing so fast it was going out of your chest, but you pushed it aside. You had work to do.

And a sense of unease gnawed at Steve, making his hair stand on end and his senses become hyper-alert. There was something wrong. Really wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but a chill crawled up his spine, making his muscles tense.

He exchanged a glance with Maria—she felt it too. The air was too thick, too still. He could hear your heart beating, too fast, too loud.

You kept moving, subtly positioning yourself near the wall, your body shielding a button—one Steve hadn’t noticed before.

“Four?” Your voice was soft and casual. You were watching him carefully, studying his reactions like you were dissecting his every move.

“Mhm?” He didn’t look back, his attention still locked on the blueprints projected across the room, soaking up every detail.

“When did you say we escorted the king?” You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, your position relaxed, but gaze distant. “Was it at the beginning of the war? Or when it was almost over?”

“Beginning. Why?” Four turned to face you, a smile still hanging on his lips. “Why do you ask?”

“Because we were Hydra back then.” You said, voice level but resolute. “We didn’t escort people. Not the alliance, at least.”

Four’s smile faltered. It froze on his face.

“Who are you?” Your voice remained calm, but there was a razor edge beneath the surface. “And why are you pretending to be my brother?”

"Shit!" Maria immediately pulled out her gun, aiming straight at Four—no, Agent Frazer's—head, her finger tight on the trigger.

Steve stayed still, fists clenched, eyes rapidly calculating every option in the room: the exits, the distance between you and Four, and how fast he could get to either of you. In a matter of seconds, hundreds of plans flashed through his mind, each one detailing how things could go down.

Four's face remained calm, but the shift in his eyes betrayed him. The mask of the amiable older brother slipped, revealing the cold, calculating operative underneath—the same one who had greeted Captain America this morning: the perfect spy, shifting personas like a chameleon, adapting to every situation.

A slow, smug smile curled across his lips, replacing the affectionate facade he wore seconds ago.

"How did you know?" he asked, tilting his head, examining you. He seemed almost impressed by your unflinching calm, as if you'd been expecting this all along.

"'It's the realization of everything we once hoped for.'" Your gaze was unwavering, your tone even as you repeated his earlier words.

"What?"

You lowered your eyelids, the weight of old memories seeping into your voice, barely a whisper.

"You’ve said that this tech, this…unrealistic world leadered by heroes, is something that we hoped for… is not."

You didn’t know whom you were talking to, to Four, to Steve, or to yourself.

“We were kids. Trapped in a cage. We never hoped for any of this.” You paused: “My brother and sisters died before I was even grown up. And they didn’t dream big. We didn't have the chance or dared to do so.”

Steve's heart clenched. He had sensed this, but hearing you say it still hit harder than expected.

"You knew?" Four's tone shifted, darker, more dangerous. His eyes gleamed like a predator closing in on its prey. "From the beginning?"

"Easy, Frazer." Maria warned, her aim steady. "You even blink, and I'll put a bullet in your pretty forehead."

"Of course I knew…" you said calmly. "And I know you're wearing a retinal lens—a live-streaming neural interface that captures everything you see, using nanotransceivers to broadcast it live via ultra-broadband frequencies to a secure hub."

Steve's mind clicked into place. You had the ability to see the composition of materials in everything around you. It was why Tony often had you blend in with the crowd, to detect anything out of place or hidden in plain sight.

"Then you know it's too late." Four's grin widened, a victorious glint in his eyes. "I've already got everything I need, little sister."

"Do you?" You smiled—a smile Steve knew all too well, the one that meant you were about to love what happened next.

You snapped your fingers.

"Revelio."

The world around you shimmered, peeling away like burning paper. The high-tech lab setup dissolved, revealing a The Crib instead, but it didn’t have all the advanced technology drafts as it was shown to Four. It was a clean, organized, fancy lab, not revealing anything confidential, it looked brand new..

"Binary Augmented Retro-Framing. Or BARF." you said, almost sighing. "It's on the market. The records are public. Tony loves to play with it."

"You think you're so smart." Frazer sneered, a cruel twist to his lips. "Or good. You think joining these superheroes will erase what you are? What you really are? You're nothing but a monstrous experiment."

"You're right." Your expression didn’t falter, not even a twitch. "My brothers and sisters were better." You continued watching him, calm as ever. "But you didn’t come all this way just for some tech demo, did you?"

"No." Frazer's smirk returned, sharper than before. "I came to confirm something, and I did. But there’s one last thing I wanted to check, just in case."

Steve's instincts kicked in, but he knew it was already too late.

Frazer locked eyes with you, and his voice dropped, firm and deliberate:

"Мечта."

End

Continue to:

5: Awakening |

6: Dusk |

7: Hypnagogia |

8: Lull |

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Divider Credits: to the wonderful @cafekitsune

Woohooo...damn!! OMG thank you for reading thus far! Hope you really enjoyed it like I did writing it, it was a rollercoaster of emotions, tho.

Next chapter is finished already so I'll see you on next Friday! And I couldn't help myself on the "Revelio" part, I just had to give that dramatic line, if there were background music asin the movies, that's when it comes to play XD

Alright, let me know what do you think! (Also if you thought this was intense then next chapter is worse...xD)

Love.,

Moon.

Shoot, I completely forgot, but it was mentioned by the brilliant @steviebbboi & @jamneuromain that I should have a taglist? So mentioning here, will edit when I have it ready ❤️

#captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x female reader #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers smut #original character #this is a very long chapter

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hirawatsuniforms · 1 year ago

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mortytheestallion · 2 years ago

Text

can i have you?

Rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

Word Count: 1700+

Warnings: Rick Sanchez x F!Reader, age-gap (older man/younger woman), unprotected sex PIV, angst, cunnilingus, fingering, canon typical violence, alcohol

“What’s that?” There’s a look of uneasiness painted on your face, a timid hand pointing at a seemingly dead robot that looks a little too much like Rick, well exactly like Rick, strewn across the garage floor in a puddle of oil.

Rick barely spares a glance over his shoulder before giving a gruff grunt.

“Morty pissed me off. It's a glorified family babysitter while I search for— while I focus on real shit.”

You think you’re gonna throw up. If that. . . thing, has been impersonating Rick for a couple of weeks then—

You can’t help the shriek that passes through your lips. Stomach churning, you don’t acknowledge the sound of glass shattering not 5 feet from where you stand. All you can do is stare at the shiny gold consisting of the robot’s body parts in horror.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Rick had already been in an irritated state like you’ve never seen. 5’o clock shadow, disheveled hair, and his lab coat seemed to be all that was holding him together. The mania had dissipated a couple of days ago, leaving nothing but piss and vinegar behind.

“I fucked that thing.”

You’ve never seen Rick surprised as he slowly turns to face you, brow near his hairline. He’s speechless for the first time since he met you, yet it's gone as quickly as it came. His signature furrowed brow and twitching eye returned.

“What do you mean you fucked it?” It's full of venom. You can see his shoulders tense, white knuckles gripping the edge of the work bench.

All you can do is stare at him, bound and gagged by your own dreadful realization. A beat passes before either one of you moves, Rick springs into action first. A string of explicatives leaves his mouth as he roughly clears the work bench, you cringe at the sound of clattering metal, but do not move. It feels like your feet have grown roots.

It all makes sense now. The soft touches, the kindness, the supportiveness. It couldn’t have been Rick, it wasn’t.

You can’t believe you didn’t realize it was a robot. His hands were cold, which was the only odd thing but Rick is odd. He normally runs like a space heater. You often wake up with all of your blankets on the floor, Rick starfished on the topsheet. He had been more tender though, attentive. You just thought time was changing him, making him softer. It seemed like family was making him more mellow, you thought maybe having you in his life brought out something in him.

The shame and embarrassment washes over you like a flood.

He picks up the robot with ease, throwing it onto the work bench like it weighs less than a feather. You’d be turned on in other, better circumstances. Your thoughts continue to race as Rick searches carelessly through boxes, throwing items over his shoulder at the workbench. He doesn’t seem to care if it hits the robot or not.

Rick attaches what looks like jumper cables to each of the robot's nipples. You snort, instant regret shoots down your spine as Rick throws a glare at you. He presses a button and the robot jerks to life, cringing as he moans through the electrical current flowing through him.

“I thought you let me die, asshole.” He squints at Rick. His eyes widen when he realizes Rick is in no joking mood.

“I programmed you to keep Morty busy not to fuck my gir— not to fuck her!” Rick thumb jabs in your direction, “Now I’m gonna fuck her, and make you watch.”

“Rick.” It's the first word you’ve been able to get out in a minute, the robot quietly sighs to himself during your staring contest with Rick.

“Fine.” It comes out through gritted teeth, and he rips the cables off. The robot jerks as the light leaves its eyes. You feel a little guilty, this somewhat sentient creature dying because of your actions. Then again, Rick programmed it to be him, and it does seem to want to die.

“What?” It's accusatory. Rick can’t believe the look on your face, you fucked a robot not him. Who are you to be on a high horse?

Your mouth is set in a grim line, tension oozes between the two of you. Rick’s chest heaves, he won’t break before you do.

“What exactly was your plan with the robot? You thought I wouldn't initiate sex?” You break, chewing on your lip. Rick’s eyes briefly flicker towards it before meeting yours again. His hands are balled into fists.

“S-sorry I expected you to actually use that thing in your head, you know the brain?” Your mouth falls open at his jab, “Mouth o-open again? Gonna stick the dead robot dick in it, sweetheart?”

There's tears in your eyes. All of the cautious trust you’ve built over the last couple washed away in a matter of seconds. Serves you right, you think.

He takes a swig of his flask, angry eyes betraying the calm demeanor he’s trying to portray. You can’t help it as the tears fall, you watch him soften a bit as you sniffle before the coldness returns.

“Tears d-don’t work on me bab— sweetie, or did the robot fuck you dumb?” You know he’s just being mean because he’s hurt.

It doesn’t make it any less upsetting though. You both stand your ground.

You play it up a little, calling his bluff. Sniffles turn to sobs, you watch as his resolve slowly begins to crumble. He shifts his weight several times before he tosses the flask over his shoulder and moves in your direction.

“C’mere,” his thumbs briefly wipe the tears off your cheeks before his lips meet yours. It’s uncharacteristically soft for him, a little too on brand for the robot. You push the thought to the back of your mind, enjoying how warm his body is pressed against yours.

He gets a little rougher. You gasp as your back hits the work bench, so engrossed in the feeling of his teeth biting your neck you didn’t even notice him guiding you over.

Rick’s hands are gripping your waist so tight you’re sure there’ll be handprint shaped bruises on your hips in the morning. The thought of it makes you moan, and he tenses slightly before continuing his way down your torso.

He gets his hands under your thighs. Calloused hands meet plush skin as he leverages you up on the counter, you yelp as you land on the cold counter.

“Gon–gonna make you forget all about him, sweetheart,” He mutters, rucking the material down your legs. He’s gonna show you how much he cares about you in the only way he can. He stops for a minute to grab you by the nape of your neck and kisses you, really kisses you. He bathes in the soft moans he manages to pull from you between kisses, continuing his previous goal as he bites his way down your neck and chest.

Rick drags your ass to the edge of the counter before dropping to his knees. He bites back a curse, his joints too old to be doing shit like that but damn if he wasn’t gonna worship you in a way that matters. Matters to him.

He runs a finger up your slit, savoring how wet you are for him after nothing but a couple kisses. It inflates his ego like you wouldn’t believe.

You mewl as he breaches you, two slender fingers twisting inside you. You arch into his touch, wiggling for as much contact you can milk from him.

“Please, Rick, d-don’t tease,” you plead, his eyes search your face. He curls his fingers up, hitting you where you’re soft and spongy, reveling in the way you melt in his hands. Rick uses his other hand to spread your knees wide. He can’t help the noise that escapes his throat at the sight of you.

He picks up his pace and you squirm, your hips chasing as much pleasure as you can. His cock presses uncomfortably against the seam of his pants as he feels you clench around his fingers. Beads of sweat pepper your hairline as you ride his fingers, becoming more desperate the longer he denies you release.

You practically scream the minute you feel his mouth on your clit. Your orgasm rips through you like a live wire. Your thighs shake, momentarily blacking out as the pleasure overwhelms you.

When you come down, Rick is staring at you intently.

“Can I have you?” It's loaded. You know what he means, he’s asking for permission before continuing but there’s more underneath this time. He might even be more upset than you about the robot fucking, and you know Rick’s no saint. Your lip quivers. His stare never leaves your face.

You nod. He’s on you faster than you can process post-orgasm.

He kisses you again. It's softer this time, one hand holds your jaw softly while the other undoes his belt. He desperately shoves his pants down as if having you will solve all his problems. Maybe it will.

Rick fists himself as he smears his cock against your entrance. You moan, overstimulated and fucked out. He holds himself back, it's not in his nature to go slow. Your hips buck involuntarily as he slides to the hilt, his head drops to your shoulder with a groan.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so tight,” He pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in without warning, “Bet he didn’t fuck you like this, huh?” He quickens his pace and you grip his shoulders, hips dragging with what little strength you have to meet him.

He thrusts as deep as he can to get you to writhe and whimper.

“C’mon,” He pants, “Just one more for me, honey, I know you can do it.” It's creeping up on you, twisting down your spine. He angles his hips to spear his cock into you just like you need, and it's enough.

Rick’s hips stutter as you clench around him, gripping your hips to deliver the brutal thrusts you need as you ride through your orgasm.

He comes shortly after with a grunt as you flutter along his length.

“I’d have fucked a robot sooner if it meant you’d fuck me like that.”

The glare is worth it.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x reader #rick c137 #rick sanchez x you #rick x you #rick and morty season 6 spoilers

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