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vamplvs · 3 days ago

Text

IT'S WHAT THE PAPERS SAY

INCLUDES -> john walker x reader WARNINGS -> fake dating, enemies to lovers (loosely), former shield agent!reader, canon-typical injury and violence, banter and childish arguments WORD COUNT -> 5.1k SUMMARY -> after a disastrous undercover op, valentina gives you and john a new mission: fix the incoming pr scandal by pretending to date. but the two of you can hardly hold a normal conversation without arguing—outside of missions, anyway.

NOTES -> part 2 is already in the works as of posting this! as always, comments and rbs are much appreciated <3

SERIES MASTERLIST

it was supposed to be an easy mission, but the worst ones always are. there's something insidious about leaving yourself unguarded only for it to backfire horrifically a moment later.

it was supposed to be just a quick recon op, nothing crazy. just you and walker keeping an eye on a weapon smuggler to see if he'll reach out to his next contact.

but the bar is dingy, the people are seedy, and you can't stand being next to walker for more than ten minutes at a time. he's not the type to go on these missions, and you can't figure out for the life of you why valentina would ever send him on this one. yelena or bucky would be better choices. they both have histories with undercover work.

walker, on the other hand, is a soldier through and through. he's always ready to jump the gun, always on edge like someone's waiting around the next corner for him. and when you have to blend into a less than savory crowd in a bar in hell's kitchen, he is all too easy to spot as someone with too much training.

and that's not even getting into the simple fact that the two of you don't exactly have a history of playing nice. it's not that you hate each other, it's just that petty bickering has a tendency of getting in the way of things—or turning into a real fight, if you aren't careful.

the target—a man by the name of rowan taylor—keeps eyeing walker from where he sits on the other end of the bar. there are a small handful of men sitting at the tables next to his, each one fairly large and wearing a suit—presumably hired guards. they stand out like sore thumbs among the rest of the civilians in the bar, who either haven't noticed how conspicuous they are or don't care to.

you're lucky you aren't anywhere near walker, figuring that two newcomers together is a lot more suspicious than two strangers arriving separately and never once interacting. but this rowan guy keeps looking at walker like he's ready to pounce, and it's making you twitchy.

"he knows something is up. you better get out of here soon," you mutter over comms, careful to take a sip of your drink to cover up your speaking.

walker hums and stands up immediately, like the idiot he is. he should have waited a few minutes, waited until rowan backed off and went back to business as usual. instead, he's got every eye in the bar on him in an instant.

"who are you?" rowan growls, not-so hidden guards standing along with walker. they've got their hands on their guns—thankfully, still stashed in their holsters, but that's a small blessing.

"no one, man," he replies, letting his eyes scan over rowan's men without a hint of concern. dammit, walker, we're civilians here. at least pretend to be worried. "i'm just paying my tab and leaving."

"i said," rowan's got a hand on his own weapon now, unclasping his holster. the sound is so loud in the now-quiet bar that it nearly makes you flinch. "who are you?"

walker decides that's a brilliant time to let his eyes flit to you and then the target. it takes everything in you to suppress a loud sigh.

and then rowan's eyes are on you, too. you can feel them burning into your temple as you desperately try to ignore him.

the next thing you know, rowan's men have guns pointed in every direction, the handful of civilians that populated the bar are screaming, crying, or both, and you and walker are very nearly defenseless. walker doesn't have his shield, and all you've got stashed on you is a small knife.

walker is quick to jump to action—maybe there is something to be said for his constant edginess—and he's got one of the men down before you've even gotten up from your seat. it's a mess of bullet spray and flailing bodies as you and walker take down the men with a smoothness you never expect while working with him. it's almost nice working with him like this, when he finally shuts his mouth and gets to work. he moves efficiently through them, covering civilians and stealing one of the men's guns with a move you can only describe as clinical.

you do much of the same: herding civilians behind the bar while walker takes care of rowan's goons and taking one of the men out with a chokehold that sends him to the ground far too quickly for an allegedly trained bodyguard.

then you spot rowan in the corner of the bar, and march over to him ready for a fight. the gun in his hand is trained on you the moment he sees you coming.

"c'mon, man, we've got you," you say with a huff.

"not yet."

you watch in slow motion as his finger moves towards the trigger, and you charge at him, tackling him to the ground.

a gunshot cracks through the bar, and you hear walker call your name over the ringing in your ears.

pain lances through your side as the wet heat of blood paints your ribs.

time freezes for just a moment as you wait for your breath to come out gurgling or your ribs to crunch when you move. but they don't, and you're still breathing fine.

it must've been a graze.

rowan's gun clatters against the ground when you both fall, and you're trying to work him into a grapple. he's strong, slamming his head into yours with a grunt. it sends you reeling back, eyes watering and a wetness pouring down from your nose that you know is blood.

he twists himself over you, shoving you against the ground with enough force that the thunk of your skull hitting the wood floor echoes in your ears. adrenaline can only do so much to keep the pain minimal.

rowan is gloating about taking down a new avenger—god, what is with criminals monologuing these days? one of your arms is trapped by your side, mere inches away from your knife that fell when he shoved you back. there isn't enough leeway for you to use your knife, anyways.

instead, you opt for spitting at him, painting his face in a spray of red. it doesn't do much other than piss him off, but the distraction gives you an opportunity to worm your way out of his hold.

the cool press of the knife in your hand as you manage a long, jagged cut along his thigh is a comfort. rowan is defenseless, no gun, no grapple.

you finally have the upper hand against him.

but valentina demanded no casualties—something about making sure that the new avengers keep a "positive public image," even though you know the old avengers killed a hell of a lot more bad guys than the new ones have, at least publicly—so you work him into a hold that has his arm twisted behind him, just enough that it's close to breaking, and the knife pressed just enough into his neck that it draws a pinprick of blood.

"walker!"

he grunts, and you hear the sound of wood splitting and a body falling to the ground. when you look up to him, he looks nearly untouched aside from the bruise blooming on his cheek and the limp he walks with. damn those super soldiers and their strength. he's by your side in moments, kneeling next to you, and taking over rowan's capture.

you somehow end up leaning against the bar for support, head still spinning. there's still blood in your mouth, you realize, hot and metallic. it must be all over your face by this point.

"nice going," you manage, words tumbling from your mouth in a blur of sound.

"not the time," walker replies, "cops are here. we just need to deliver these assholes outside. valentina has all the evidence against them to make sure we aren't on the chopping block for this." the cops? one of the civilians must've called 9-1-1 when the fight broke out.

and you hope he's right.

cops are flooding the bar in moments, asking walker a slew of questions that he is well-equipped to answer. when one of them walks over to you, the words he's saying are fuzzy and distant, and your head is pounding. you just shake your head and point to where you think walker is standing—the motion only makes you dizzier.

you're not sure how long you spend by the bar trying to steady your breathing and blinking away the spots in your vision, but walker ends up hauling you up at some point. he's got an arm under yours for support and leads you out of the bar.

you blink and you're sitting in an alley with walker's face mere inches from yours.

"you better now?" he asks, hands pressed softly against your face. he's searching your face for something, and you really can't be sure what.

but sitting down feels a hell of a lot better than standing did, so you shake your head. it sends a wave of nausea through you as the world spins.

"n-no, i- i think i'm concussed." your tongue is heavy in your mouth, like it won't quite behave.

"yeah, i figured." walker's eyebrows are furrowed as he continues to examine you, and you think this is the most he's ever touched you in the time you've been working together. "you couldn't even talk to the cops."

normally, that would've been a dig—some way to hurt your ego like always—but when he says it now, it's laced with concern.

"yeah."

"shit, you're bleeding, too."

his hand drifts to your ribs, putting careful pressure against the wound. you distantly hear yourself let out a small whimper.

"i know, i know," he mutters. his eyes are back on your face in an instant. "okay, we have to get moving back to the tower so i can get you to the med bay," he says resolutely. "can you walk?"

"not yet." not when the wall feels like it's falling away behind you, or when walker's hand on your face is the only thing keeping your head from tipping sideways. trudging through the streets of manhattan like this sounds like your greatest nightmare.

"i'll support you, i just need you to get up so we can get to the car."

the car. right. it's a block away, you think. or at least, it's a block away from the bar. that doesn't sound nearly as bad.

"help me up."

and he does so without question, bracing you to keep you steady, even when your shaky knees threaten to buckle.

"that was a fucking disaster!" valentina yells from across her desk. the new assistant she hired a few weeks ago flinches while you and walker sit in front of her with matching looks of disinterest. "civilians endangered, this one got hurt," she gestures to you like you're dirt on the bottom of her shoe, and it makes you bristle, "and you both got made. i mean, seriously, it's like you've never worked a job like this in your life."

"well, don't send mr. 'i failed drama class' on undercover missions, next time," you grumble, and you swear you can see walker's hackles raise next to you. valentina is quick to cut him off before he can get a retort in.

"if there was anyone else available, trust me, i would have," she sneers. "you two are lucky that you work well with the others, because you have been the biggest pain in my ass. there's exactly one good thing that came out of this mess." she flips her tablet around to you.

on it is an article titled: "DANGEROUS IN LOVE? TENDER MOMENT SPOTTED WITH NEW AVENGERS." but it's the picture they used that gets you.

it's the two of you outside, tucked into that alley a few buildings away from the bar. you're sitting against the wall and walker is kneeling in front of you, hands on your face even as it's covered in blood. it's one of the few moments after that fight that you remember clearly. and you have to admit, out of context, it's one hell of a touching sight. or it would be, if it wasn't you and john walker, of all people.

"and that's good, how?" walker asks, raising a doubtful eyebrow at the photo.

"because this is one of only articles that's not talking about how you put civilians at risk, and it's a good opportunity for some decent publicity for once." she puts the tablet down and laces her fingers together. "enough of the public seems to be convinced you two are secretly dating that it's believable," she says with that smarmy, self-satisfied tone she always uses with the team.

walker gapes, going red in the ears.

"you're joking, right?" you cut in.

"oh, i am deadly serious, sweetheart. you're trending on twitter right now for that, and it's the only positive publicity you two have ever gotten when you work together." there's a wide smile on her face, and it's made of pure spite and cruelty. "we will be capitalizing on this to cover up your fuck-ups. you two are benched from other missions until you fix this, or that bench will be your new home."

"you want us to pretend to, what, date?" walker asks, ears still aflame.

"absolutely." she hands you both folders, and when you open yours, it's a file on him. it's a list of things he likes: his favorite foods, books, movies, anything valentina could conceivably get her hands on. you imagine walker has one all about you in his hands. "study up, lovebirds. the pr storm starts bright and early this weekend."

you're already thinking of all the ways this could go wrong as you walk out. even on the way to valentina's office, the two of you were bickering about the mission. how on earth you'd pretend to be in love is beyond you.

now, though, the walk back to your floor of the tower is silent, to an uncomfortable degree. you'd take fighting with walker over standing silently in an elevator with him any day of the week.

you take another look in the file, glancing over a few of the highlights.

"your favorite book is a wrinkle in time?"

"what? no, it's catch-22," walker says with a furrowed brow, and then he glances over at the file before taking it from you. "christ, this is all wrong."

"so she's just making guesses?"

"i guess so, yeah." he scans over the file for a bit longer. "i mean, shit, this is just the stuff that i've been reading or watching recently. it's not accurate."

you take the folder valentina gave him, and look through it yourself. sure enough, it's filled with inaccuracies. your favorite restaurant is listed as the takeout place you went to last week, and your favorite book the one you've been powering through for the past few weeks—it's a dreadfully slow read.

"this is going to be a disaster."

"yeah," he says quietly, still scanning over the file. there's something off about the way he says it, but your head is already back to aching and the bandages on your side are starting to itch. you're desperate to take a nap to try and sleep it off. maybe you can convince bucky or yelena to change your bandages while you're at it, if only to avoid another run-in with the med-bay team.

"i'll see you around, walker." you wave over your shoulder when the elevator doors open, making a beeline to your room.

he mumbles a goodbye in return.

the dreaded "first date" comes sooner than you want it to.

it's, admittedly, a beautiful day outside, and you'd usually love to walk through central park on a day like this. people are out with their dogs, kids are playing in the fields, and couples are having picnics under shady trees. it's nice to see normalcy in new york like this, especially after the way the void rattled the entire city for months.

the only issue is that walker is by your side, holding an iced coffee in his hand. he's close, but not too close, keeping time with your steps in a way that makes you think he wants to run. it's painfully over-calculated, or at least, you can tell how hard he's overthinking the whole situation.

it's almost like he hasn't been on a date, ever.

because that's what this is supposed to be, isn't it? a first date? granted, you aren't really into walker, and you don't particularly want to go out with the guy, but you're supposed to be head over heels for him. you should be all lovestruck smiles and sappy comments, not whatever this is.

"so, valentina set up a bunch of fake paparazzi, right?" he asks, then takes a sip of his drink like it'll help calm his nerves. you're not even sure if caffeine works on super soldiers, but that doesn't seem to stop him.

"yeah, and we'll probably get caught by some randoms in the park, too." walker hums at that, scanning around the area like he's looking for an enemy to fight. "hey, cool it on the soldier bullshit, okay? this is only technically an op."

"right, yeah." he keeps at it anyways.

"look," you tug him to a stop, and he just looks at you with a furrowed brow, "we're just two friends taking a stroll in central park. the tabloids have to do all the work for us."

"two friends who can't stand each other," he says with a roll of his eyes.

"okay, fine, coworkers, then."

"demoting me already, wow."

"it's not my fault you're bitchy, walker," you hiss with a saccharine smile.

"doesn't mean you have to-"

"stop." he huffs, crossing his arms, a motion made awkward by the cup in his hand. "if you're going to argue with me right now, at least pretend it's, like, lighthearted teasing or something. if we blow this, val is going to wring our necks and throw us from the top of the watchtower. so, play nice."

he sighs at that, and turns to keep walking. you follow after him with a put-on smile.

in a last-ditch effort to make things seem more natural, you say, "tell me about war history, or something." he glances at you with a raised eyebrow, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. "i'm being serious. tell me about it. it'll make things seem more natural if you're talking about something you like instead of brooding over how much you don't want to be here."

"is that all i am to you? a soldier?" he asks incredulously.

"i mean- yeah, kind of." he scoffs at that. "okay, fine, tell me about catch-22, then, mr. military."

"i have other-" you cut him off with a single, cold look. "okay, alright," he mutters, and then starts explaining it. he talks about the background of catch-22 as war satire, about the book being the origin of the phrase, about the madness of the characters, and you ask enough questions to make sure you seem interested to any onlookers.

and it's not that you're uninterested, far from it. when you aren't trying to rip each other apart, being around walker isn't half bad. you work well on combat missions—as long as he isn't the one giving orders—and you respect his technical knowledge in the field. it's just the everything else about him that grates your nerves. the overconfidence, the impatience, the general asshole behavior.

so you tell yourself this is just like any other mission, just a straightforward undercover op, like so many you’ve done before. it keeps your head on steady—like when walker's response to a question about the book is a touch too snarky and you have to bite your tongue to keep from fighting back, or when you have a nearly ten minute long argument about how only walker would enjoy a book about war this much. he insists that the main character is really compelling, and it's not about violence, anyways, but hypocrisy. you just like pressing his buttons when he gets like this.

there's a little thought in the back of your mind that says, walker sure is eager to talk about this book. when was the last time anyone asked?

you know you haven't, and that thought stings in a way you don't expect it to.

you know that bob and yelena have been binging kitchen nightmares for the last few weeks, that bucky is rereading the hobbit for the millionth time, that alexei is learning how to mix drinks, and even that ava has taken up crochet. but walker is a mystery to you, and that little file valentina gave you is certainly no help.

maybe you'll look through it again once you're back at the tower. just out of curiosity.

"walker," you interrupt him, and his train of thought stutters to a stop. "one of valentina's planted paparazzo's is up ahead."

the woman is so far from sneaky that it's nearly laughable. she's sitting on a park bench with a camera in hand and a newspaper sitting next to her.

"shit, right." he's tense again, all of that easy back and forth sucked from between you in half a moment. you almost regret pointing her out.

"wrap your arm around me-" he visibly tenses more when you say it, so you change course, "or, like, put your hand on my arm or something when we walk past. just make it natural."

"yeah, i can- i can do that."

his hand ends up on your lower back—a move that surprises you so much you nearly choke.

"and smile like i've said something funny." to walker's credit, the smile he shoots at you looks very nearly genuine. his eyes are still too harsh, though.

you hear the click of the shutter as you're passing the woman on the bench.

"you do this often?" he asks once you're past her.

"pretend to date someone?" he nods with a slight shrug. "not really, but i've done enough undercover ops for valentina and..." you trail off, looking for the best way to describe your previous line of work—'failed shield agent' doesn't exactly scream competency, "other groups to figure this out. it's not exactly rocket science to figure out the right things to do and say. besides, i want to get back to real missions."

"makes sense." walker goes quiet and tense again for the rest of the so-called date, and you can't shake the thought that you might've said something wrong.

you wake up to a text the next morning from valentina congratulating you on the first successful outing. she's quick to tell you it's one of many as soon as you get your hopes up about this being over quickly.

the articles are almost fun to read over coffee and a bagel. most of them are laughably speculative, taking mishaps from previous missions and events to spin them into some kind of romanticized thing between you—claiming that walker "pulls your pigtails" on purpose, or that this is some elaborate courtship you two have.

"ENEMIES TURNED LOVERS: UNLIKELY PAIRING SPOTTED IN CENTRAL PARK" reads the newest article about you and walker's alleged relationship. it goes into great detail about your unfortunate history of public arguments—even mentioning the one time you threw your drink at him at a gala, though that one was a legitimate accident on your part. valentina nearly flayed you alive the next day.

and then there are the photos. the first one is obviously taken from someone's phone—just a slightly blurry photo of the two of you walking—and the second seems to be from that paparazzo you spotted. the third sends a chill of discomfort through you.

you're rolling your eyes, turned away from walker for saying something stupid, probably, and he's smiling at you. it's soft and real in a way you don't expect from him, and his eyes are crinkling at the corners. it's intimate, almost.

the article goes on to describe how it seems the "rivalry" hasn't dissipated despite your blooming relationship. that makes you scoff and shut off your phone.

"morning," comes walker's voice from the door to the kitchen. it's rough with sleep, and when you look over at him, he's rumpled in a way you aren't used to seeing. his hair is mussed, long strands of it falling into his face, and his t-shirt is wrinkled all over.

"rough night, walker?"

he grunts, trudging over to the coffee machine.

"seriously, you look like you've been through hell." this is the first time you've seen him so not put together. he's got a militant way about every aspect of his life, and usually, he's ready for the day before anyone else is even up. this seems out of character for him, even if you don't know him well.

"i'm not in the mood." it takes him a moment to pour a cup of coffee for himself, fumbling for a mug and the sugar.

"wake up on the wrong side of the bed today, or something?" you keep waiting for him to fire something back, but it never comes. he just stays in front of the coffee machine, sipping from his mug like it's a lifeline. "okay, um, there's new articles about us-"

"just shut up, will you?" he growls and shoots you a glare over his shoulder. and then he's heading back out of the kitchen, leaving you dumbfounded at the island.

yelena walks in a moment later with a sly smile on her face.

"the date went that poorly?"

"apparently," you respond with a lighthearted roll of your eyes.

"well, twitter is having a field day with you two."

"oh, don't even remind me." yelena laughs at that, and it's a much-needed moment of levity.

"look!" she pushes her phone into your face, and on it is a thread.

"proof they've always been in love," the top tweet reads.

it's a series of silly pictures of the two of you—some from the planned date, others from team outings. there's a picture of you laughing so hard that walker had to hold you up just to keep you standing. he's laughing too. there's another that you know comes from bob's instagram—which has blown up since he started posting pictures of you and the team, and valentina is grateful for the "down to earth imagery"—where walker is holding the tv remote hostage and you're damn near climbing over him to get at it.

"oh, come on, i was trying to save us from duck dynasty," you say with a snort when you show it to yelena.

"yes, but they don't know that."

"well, they're very wrong about us being in love, that's for sure. walker won't even look at me."

her eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. "yikes."

"yeah, tell me about it."

the day goes on with walker being bitchier than usual and you wondering what crawled up his ass and died there. when you run into him at lunch, he's cold and withdrawn from the moment you walk into the room until you leave. yelena's eyes flit between you, like she's watching some high-stakes tennis match. you can hear him laughing at something bob says the moment you're heading out.

and then the gym is almost disturbing.

he's tearing into a punching bag, headphones on and facing away from you—a choice you know is intentional, given how he only turned when you walked in. hell, you're almost positive he rolled his eyes when you walked in.

but you ignore it. maybe it's an off day, you rationalize and continue on with your new routine.

the hits against the punching bag are steady as you do stretches with resistance bands—the med team still hasn't cleared you for training yet. this is the closest they'll let you get to the weights or the treadmill until the bruising on your ribs and your concussion heal.

your side aches as you move, but it's a much needed distraction from the frustration of being benched from combat missions until further notice. or it would be, if your current mission weren't actively ignoring you and making it that much more difficult.

he's still working that punching bag when you leave.

it's after dinner when you're fed up with him leaving rooms as soon as you walk in or going quiet once you try to riff off of whatever he's saying.

you corner him while he's washing dishes.

"okay, i know we've had our rough patches, and this whole fake-dating scenario sucks, but seriously?" the look he shoots you is nearly deadly. "we have to at least pretend to tolerate each other, and we did that just fine before today, so what gives?"

"it's not you," he says simply, like that's some kind of explanation.

"kind of feels like it is, walker."

the dishes clatter in the sink when he turns to you. "it's the spectacle, the publicity. it sucks."

"i know, but-"

"no, you really don't." his laugh is almost cruel. "the last time i had this many articles talking about me, i-"

oh. that's what this is about.

you remember the day all those articles came out about him—the ones talking about the flagsmashers and his less than honorable discharge. you remember the way every news outlet tore into him. the things they said were brutal. at the time, you felt kind of bad for him.

knowing that it's still eating at him all these months later only makes that worse.

"but this is good publicity. isn't that-"

"until it isn't." he turns back to the dishes with a huff, scrubbing at them like they're the ones writing the articles. "until they decide i'm some asshole who's conned you into dating me or i fuck up again and then you're on the line."

"okay, so we'll talk to valentina. we'll call the whole thing off." you're more than fine with it, really. especially if it's messing with him this badly.

"yeah, right. like she gives a shit."

and you don't know what to say to that because he's right. valentina would just tell him to get over his stage fright and act like a man.

"then, we'll make this work at your pace." he pauses, turning to you like you've said something ridiculous. "i'm being serious. i'll keep claiming a concussion until you're ready for the next slew of articles. i don't care about valentina's timeline, or whatever she has planned for us."

"okay," he says, quiet in a way you aren't used to.

you're learning not to expect things from walker anymore, not after yesterday and today.

"i'll, um, leave you to it, then. unless you want help...?"

"no, i've got it."

"got it. yeah."

you linger for a beat, letting the silence fall uncomfortably between you, and then you leave him there, still scrubbing away at the dishes.

once you're back in the safety of your own room, you pull out your phone from your pocket and start scrolling through twitter. your entire timeline is filled with yourself and walker.

there's speculation about when you started dating, polls about who asked who out, and so on. there are endless tweets of just photos of the two of you, and even a handful of fan edits. it's almost sweet to see so many people rallying behind you both—defending you from those who bring up his ex-wife or call you a home wrecker.

you realize with a start that you don't even know his wife's name properly—or his son's for that matter.

that little file sits on your dresser across the room, and you can't help but wonder if everything in it is inaccurate or if maybe there's some truth hidden there.

#john walker x reader #marvel x reader #thunderbolts x reader #john walker headcanons #marvel headcanons #thunderbolts headcanons

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cakypa120 · 2 days ago

Note

May I request more Billy X Jason

Like captain marvel giving all the justice league members a thing that when they’re in danger, it will teleport them to the rock of eternity.

Jason gets injured and Batman use the thing,

Cue 18 year old Billy freaking out seeing Jason, who looks like a fully grown man, even though he’s only like 19 at best (I think) and

Jason: “ where am I?”

Billy

Jason: “damn, Roy was right demons are hot”

Batman was panicking. Jason was hurt. Seriously. And they wouldn't get help for a long time. Bruce's hands were shaking as he covered the wounds on his side. He couldn't lose Jason, his son, again. In moments like these, he understood why people prayed to something, hoping for something. Bruce was willing to give the Gods or anyone else anything if it would save his son.

A memory suddenly popped into his mind:

All the heroes were holding a strange crystal in their hands. Marvel smiled brightly at them.

Hal: What is this?

Marvel: Emergency help. If you are badly injured or trapped. You just need to break this crystal. It will teleport you to the Rock of Eternity. All your wounds will freeze in time and you will fall into a temporary sleep. I will find you, heal you and send you back to Earth. This is insurance. But if you get there unharmed, then I ask you not to wander too much. And listen to those who live there.

Batman: How reliable is this?

Marvel: One hundred percent! It can teleport you from any point in space or dimension.

Superman: That's interesting.

Diana: Thank you, brother, for such a valuable gift.

Marvel: You are like family to me! Of course I will worry about your safety.

Bruce takes out the small crystal. This was his last chance. He places the crystal in Jason's hand and squeezes until he hears a crunch. Jason's body is covered in golden light and his son crumbles into golden dust. Bruce looks at the place where his son lay and takes a deep breath. Now all that's left is to wait.

Billy jumps in surprise when he feels something teleport onto the Rock. Someone used his crystal? That was bad!! He runs to the teleportation site in a panic and freezes when he sees a bloody figure. Isn't that Red Hood? Shit, he's seriously hurt. Billy rolls up his sleeves. This was going to be a long job.

Jason wakes up with a groan. His whole body ached. The last thing he remembered was being shot and B holding his wound. Was he dead? Was he in hell?

?: You're awake! You better not move yet, your body needs to rest from all the magic I used on you.

Jason looks up and sees a young man with black hair and bright blue eyes. All thoughts disappear from his head when he sees this young man. Why was he wearing something that looked like ancient Greek clothes? (Billy had blood on his clothes. The Rock didn't have any other clothes. So he wore what he had.)

Jason: I died?

?: No, although you tried very hard. So, how did you get the crystal?

Jason: I don't know what crystal you're talking about. Maybe B did it. Damn, you're hot.

?: Sorry what?

Jason: I'm a little hot!! Is that normal?

The boy frowns and approaches him. Jason smells the rain. It calms him down a little. A warm palm touches his forehead and Jason is ready to melt just from that touch.

?: You're a little hotter than usual. But that's okay. A good night's sleep will help you recover faster.

Jason: Why do I feel so sleepy?

?: Your body wants to rest. You have to let it.

Jason: You're probably a demon. A very hot demon. Roy's right... I...don't want...to fall asleep...

Hands gently lay him down on the bed and Jason falls asleep.

He wakes up in Bruce's mansion. He remembers that boy and his face instantly turns red. He told him such nonsense!! Will that beautiful boy want to talk to him again?!?! Jason takes a pillow and screams into it while kicking the blanket.

Dick: Jaybird! You're awake!!

Jason doesn't answer. He wants to die from all the shame that's washed over him in waves.

Dick: Jay?

Jason: Who brought me here?

Dick: Captain Marvel! He said your wounds were healed and all you needed was sleep.

Jason freezes. Captain Marvel. That boy looked so much like Captain Marvel. Could that really be his son. Jason gets out of bed, ignoring Dick's protests. He goes down to the Batcave and finds Bruce talking to Captain Marvel. The hero in red was explaining something to Bruce.

Jason: Captain!!

Marvel: Oh, you're awake! How are you feeling? Your wounds were pretty bad.

Jason: I want to date your son! Give me your blessing!!

Marvel and Bruce freeze. Marvel turns pale and teleports away. Bruce stares at Jason in shock. Dick falls to the floor. Tim, who was sitting off to the side, chokes on his coffee.

#billy batson #dc captain marvel #dcu #captain marvel #shazam #fawcett city #fawcett comics #batman #billy × jason #jason todd #red hood

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theobservatory · 2 days ago

Note

I wanna just say, David did a wonderful job of himbo Clark Kent, multiple times I wanted to kiss that boys face he was so precious. Could i request Clark acting “cute” in the office (pushing his glasses up when they slip down, nearly tripping over his own feet while walking with coffee and almost spilled it on jimmy’s shirt, doing that stupid turn around when he’s trying to find where he’s going next (even tho he’s worked at daily planet for a few years already??) doing that little head duck and half wave at a coworker when they call him “smallville” as a greeting, dropping a stack of papers when he bumps into one of the new interns, basically he’s just doing his typical himbo Clark stuff) and reader is having a really hard time not dragging him down to her level by his tie to kiss him, bonus, they are good friends with both having crushes on each other but to oblivious to realize, much to Lois and jimmy’s amusement.

Youuuu got it anon. Bless that man.

Please don't hassle me if my characterizations are bad. It's literally my first time writing any of these characters, I'll get better as I learn (⁠ب⁠_⁠ب⁠)

｡⁠.ﾟ✧ ˎˊ˗

Helpless as a Kitten｡⁠.ﾟ★ ˎˊ˗

｡⁠☆Synopsis: a few snapshots of you and Clark fumbling around each other

｡⁠☆Cw: himbo behavior, no pronouns, no use of y/n

"Don't you just wanna put him out of his misery?"

"Excuse me?" Lois turns from her chair.

You gesture over to Clark Kent, and she rolls her eyes. The man is hunched over a large potted plant, having caught it before it crashed to the ground, but now dirt is splayed all over the floor. He's frowning, bottom lip out and shoulders all hunched.

"He's like a sad shelter dog."

"Well he's got the eyes for it."

True, you think. They're big, and glossy, and a bright sky blue.

"I know. They're like giant pools of sky, aren't they?"

"I was going for pathetic and teary, but a lovey-dovey answer works too."

You groan, throwing your head back with your hands over your face. "Lois, I don't like him like that, stop pushing your agenda on me."

"If that's what helps you sleep at night." She shrugs.

Both of you turn back to Clark, his blue eyes are turned directly on you now. His stare is piercing, deep. Even if he is still holding a giant potted plant half sideways, causing more dirt to fall out.

You wave at him.

He drops it, and the lip of the pot shatters onto the floor, creating an even bigger mess. He turns away when you laugh, red faced and rapidly whipping his head back and forth. He's probably trying to find a broom or something before someone gets ceramic stuck in their opened-toed shoe.

"Wow." Lois says flatly.

You sigh unknowingly dreamy sounding.

"Wow." She says again, this time looking at you like you're the pathetic one. "This is really just sad for both of you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

You both turn back to your work, while Clark frantically sweeps up the dirt and chipped pottery off the floor.

｡⁠.ﾟ✧ ˎˊ˗

Currently, Clark is standing next to your desk. It's next to the wall, but not close enough to be touching. In fact, it's right next to the obnoxiously loud printer, where Clark is. The thing is jammed, as usual, so it's just making this annoying BZZRT-T-T sound as it tries to spit out more paper than it can handle. Meanwhile, Clark is muttering a little frantically under his breath.

"Darn printer, c'mon work you damn mule, you were just fine yesterday."

You mask a snort under your hand, pausing your own writing to watch Clark suffer. He still hears it- the man seems to hear everything around here- and his ears redden a little. Adorable.

"Having trouble?"

"Nah, I just- y'know-" BZZRT-T-T BZZRT-T-T BZZRT-T-T. "Just a difficult day."

"I see that."

He clears his throat awkwardly. "Right. Well I-"

BZZRT-T-T BZZRT-T-T BZZ- "Out of ink, please replace ink cartridge to print." The printer says.

"You wouldn't happen to have some ink, would you?"

"I think there's some in the back."

The man is so bashful it hurts a little. He has his shoulders hunched in like it will mitigate how large he actually is, he's avoiding eye contact so heavily he's basically turned the opposite way, even his fingers are whirring between each other like a little school girl talking to her crush. It's so sweet it could make your teeth rot.

"I can go grab some if you want-"

"NO! No, that's okay I can get it myself. I was the one who disturbed your work, anyway. I'll be right back."

He rushes away before you can get another word out, slamming his toe on the leg of your desk on the way out.

"Are you okay?" You call, huffing a laugh.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it!" He calls back.

｡⁠.ﾟ✧

"You invited Clark, right?"

"Yeah, of course I did. Does it matter?" You raise an eyebrow at Jimmy.

"Yes! If you didn't invite him he'd get all sad, and mopey."

"I know." You neglect to say out loud how cute you find it. He cares so much, and just wants to be included, he's so sweet.

"I know you know, which is why I had to ask if you invited him, because if you didn't i'd have to start taking sides, and you can't put me through that."

"I really don't think it's that deep, but whatever you say."

You, Jimmy, and Lois are all crowded in your small apartment. It's not tiny or a shoebox or anything, just a little small. It's not cramped now, but it will be when Clark's massive form arrives.

Honestly, it was only supposed to be you and Lois, but then Jimmy invited himself, and if Jimmy's coming then you might as well invite Clark too. It's a little exciting, it's the first time you're seeing Clark outside of work on purpose. You've run into each other on the street a bunch of times, and went out for coffee together on your breaks a few times as well.

This feels different, more intimate. Even with Lois and Jimmy 3rd wheeling. Not that you and Clark are together of course, you're just using that as a turn of phrase. They're not actually 3rd wheeling, you're happy to see all your friends an equal amount like any normal person.

Don't think too hard about it. Anyway.

"With how late it is, I kinda doubt he's coming," you say. Clark has always been pretty punctual for as long as you've known him.

Lois and Jimmy look at each other, and then look at you.

"He's coming."

"He'll be here."

They say in sync. Well, that's not creepy at all.

"Ooookay..."

As if summoned by his name, there's a knock on your door. You can tell by the hushed clack clack on your door that it's Clark. Somehow, the respective noise just sounds like him. It's quiet, not attention grabbing, considerate even- just like him.

You're quick to open the door. There's a giddiness in your bones that you've never quite experienced before, like a dog waiting for its favorite treat or something. Gosh, maybe Clark isn't the sad dog in your relation- friend, you meant friend- friendship, maybe it's you. But that is a thought for a mind vault, you are hosting right now, much more important than... Whatever your brain has going on.

"Hey, Clark!"

Clark's hair is unkempt, black strands twist every which way, a fat cowlick stands proudly at the center of his head. There's a little smear of dirt on his cheek bone, like he was trying to wash it off and ended up making it worse.

"Hi," He grins, slow and wide. "I brought peach cobbler."

"You didn't have to do that. No one else brought food."

"Well maybe they should've." He shrugs.

You laugh. "Maybe."

The cobbler in your hands has clearly been tossed around a bit. There's an air tight lid on the container, so all that's happened is the lids smeared with peach juice now. Clark is a little embarrassed about it if the way he places a sun kissed hand on top of it is any indication.

"Did you trip on your way here? There's dirt on your face."

He winces, flushing. "Yeah, you can say that."

The night progresses quickly after that. Lois and Jimmy steal the cobbler before you can even try a bite, and Clark tries to interject but only gets steamrolled by the two grabbing forks and ignoring him. He pouts, and you rub his back and try to comfort him, but the action leaves him tripping over his words. You have no clue if you succeeded in making him feel better or not.

After the peach cobbler debacle you end up pulling out your decade old boardgames. Jimmy was the one who suggested it, proclaiming that Clue was the best boardgame, which is wrong of course because the best boardgame is actually Monopoly, but Lois thinks it's Scrabble. Clark proclaims Candyland, but is swiftly shot down when everyone agrees that one sucks the most.

You end up playing Monopoly, because it's your house and you make the rules, but poor Clark has a hard time. He continuously knocks pieces off the board, and money is continuously scattered next to his feet and under your couch. He gets that bashful look again, hot in the ears and face, pulling at his collar.

"I-I guess my hands are a bit too big for the pieces," he says.

Which is so true, so very true. His hands are giant. They dwarf yours completely, consuming your fingers in his like a turtle shell. They're so gentle though. So kind. No matter how many pieces he drops, he's so delicate with it all. Honestly, watching him is filling your head with thoughts that make you squirm in your seat.

You try to think about the game instead. You try to fill your head with safer less friendship ruining thoughts. It's not your fault he's so hot huge.

The night ends with just you and Clark- and about a third left of peach cobbler. He's just thankful there was any left, really. You're standing in your kitchen with him, he's holding the tray, you have a fork in hand ready to finally taste the cobbler.

"I just wanted to thank you for inviting me tonight. It was fun."

"It was no problem, really."

"No, seriously. Thank you." He says almost sternly, with a rare forcefulness you've never seen before.

"Of course, Clark, seriously. I'm glad to have you, I don't know if you know this, but I like spending time with you, it makes me happy to spend time with you."

A few things happen in quick succession.

Clark flushes again, a deeper red than you've ever seen on him. Your fork goes down to try the cobbler. Clark trips on his own feet by shuffling nervously. He falls. The cobbler falls. It hits the floor upside down, and the lid is on the counter.

"Clark."

"Oh my gosh, I-I'll clean it up, and make another one. I'm so sorry."

He does. That man cleans your floor so good it looks brand new. He gets on his hands and knees, and scrubs until your kitchen floor shines. Then has the nerve to sit back on his knees and look up at you with sad, blue puppy eyes.

You've never had a man get on his knees for you before. You think you'd like it in any other circumstance. Maybe you like it a little in this one, too.

"I'm sorry." He repeats. "I should go."

"Clark, I'm not mad."

"I know. I'm still sorry."

"I know." You sigh. You hold out a hand to help Clark up, but he's far outside your weight class. It's more of a formality than it is helpful. "See you at work tomorrow?"

"Of course. Spend break together?"

You smile. "Of course."

Clark smiles back, and trips over his shoes.

Got a little burnt out at the end bc this was supposed to be short and it got waaay fucking longer than it was supposed to

Clark is so fucking embarrassed at the end of this. He goes outside your door and puts his face in his hands and tries to hold back screams from how cringe he's being. Love him to death fr

Headcanon that Clark gets more flustered at sweet heartfelt comments than sexual or lusty ones !!!!

If this is ass I'll take care of it later, it's 1am. I'm tired.

｡⁠☆Requests Open

#˗ˏˋ ★ venus writes ★ ˎˊ˗#˗ˏˋ ★ supers ★ ˎˊ˗#clark kent x you #clark kent x reader #clark kent x y/n #clark kent x female reader #clark kent x male reader #clark kent x gn reader #superman x you #superman x reader #superman x y/n #superman x male reader #superman x gn reader #gn reader #black reader

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n3wlove · 3 days ago

Text

chéri

namgyu and reader random dating headcanons

note — holy, am i finally having my 'posting frequently' come back?! (probably not) anyways, hope you enjoy these headcanons, i forgot how much i loved writing for namgyu. i'm so sad there won't be anymore new content of him. after finishing this it makes me want to write more headcanons of this lovely man. i hate this, but i want to keep posting while i have motivation. pt. 2 to affection coming soon... requests are open!! ;)

tags — mention of drugs, soft namgyu!! fem!reader, clingy namgyu, things you would expect from him in a relationship, im not good at tags

── I can see him meeting you through Club Pentagon, knowing you in high school, a dating app, a party, or mutual friends. In my opinion, Nam-gyu doesn’t seem like the type to fall for someone in a traditionally romantic way. I don’t think he’d even be looking for a relationship in the first place. Falling in love with you would be a complete accident. There is nothing he regrets though.

── Definitely shows you off to his friends.

── He is manipulative, of course. Nam-gyu will guilt you to get himself out of situations. Some things are only okay when he does them. Yeah, he can go out whenever he wants, but when you do, it will become a problem. He is good at what he does because everytime he reasons with you—you believe him.

── If you are sick, He is unsure of what to do at first. Nam-gyu never did good in scenarios where he had to take care of someone, and now you were sick. If you were anyone else he probably would've just left you to figure out things by yourself. A close friend? He might call to check on you every now and again. But you were his girlfriend, and he wasn't dumb enough to treat you how he treated everyone else.

He comes to your apartment with a bag full of different medications. Tylenol, ibuprofen, benadryl, whatever you need, he probably has it. Hes unsure of what you usually buy, so he buys it all for you just to be safe. He would also probably come over with food, but you're going to have to share it with him.

"Hey Y/n, hope everythings good with you. Holy shit this place is a fucking mess..." He would complain as he walked in, still holding the bag of items tightly in his hand.

You would simply roll your eyes as you shut the door behind him. "What, are you going to help me clean it up?"

He would shake his head no.

"Exactly what I thought."

── Nam-gyu is touchyyy. He always needs his hands on something, and when you are in his reach, it will be you. No arguments. Rubbing his hands up and down your back, squeezing your shoulders, playing with the cuffs of your sleeves, messing with the necklace you have on, stroking your hand, it is always something. It gets especially bad when he is in withdrawal and has no way to relieve himself.

Nam-gyu will listen if you tell him no but don't be surprised if you get the silent treatment.

── More on Nam-gyu being touchy but I feel like he would be the best cuddler. He would never admit it while sober but he loves being close to you, your body next to his, your head resting on his chest, hearing his every heartbeat.

Him wasted though? Hes not hiding it. He’s all over you, hands gripping your waist, fingers threading through your hair, begging you to lay down with him, to let him wrap himself around you and stay there.

"Y/N, c'mon, pleaseee..."

"I'm busy," you'd reply in a soft voice, gently pulling him off of you.

"Fuck, please, I'm begging, just this once..."

You'll give in eventually.

── Really good kisser. He is experienced, so he has no problem with makeouts. Actually, they are one of his favorite things ever. Stressed out? He will just make his way over to you, kissing your neck to your jaw all the way to your mouth, snaking his tongue in. He doesn't explain anything to you, it just happens.

── When Nam-gyu first started dating you he was distant a lot of the time. In past relationships, he was simply just used. Whether that was for Club Pentagon V.I.P, connections, free drinks, etc, his ex-lovers never truly cared about him—only what he offered. So, when he met you, he feared the same thing would happen again and he was hesitant. It took him some time to figure out you weren't like his exes.

He probably realized it on some random Thursday afternoon, the two of you sitting in his bedroom, deciding when and where your next date should be.

"Hmmm... theres a festival going on somewhere around here Sunday, maybe we should go there?" You would suggest.

Nam-gyus brows would furrow, a confusion clear in his voice. "Are you sure you don't just want to go to my workplace...? Thanos is gonna be there that day, I know a lot of people are eager to meet him, I could save you a spot—"

"Who?"

"What do you mean... who?"

"Oh... Thanos. That one failed rapper. Why would I want to see him? This is about us, y'know."

“Yeah… you’re right. About us.” He would reply unbotheredly, though in reality he was really holding back tears, turning his head to the side so you wouldn’t see them welling along his waterline.

── He is a possessive man. Whats his is his only, and if he notices a guy staring at you in public he will scoff and pull you closer to him. He isn't the type to start a fight, (as much as he would like to appear that way) so he will make it as obvious as possible that you are his before anything.

"Yeah, this is my girlfriend Y/n," he would introduce you to his friends, being sure to punctuate girlfriend in the sentence. Not because he felt like he had something to prove, but because he felt like everyone was a threat when it came to you.

── Alongside possessive he is also jealous. Sometimes so much so it can be draining. You never liked feeling controlled in a relationship, and you made that clear with Nam-gyu when you first started dating. However, you must've been naive to think that Nam-gyu would actually listen. Come home from a girls night out without him? He will be pissy. Short responses, easily irritable, saying things like, "I know you saw a guy so you should just tell me now."

Though, I do see him like making you jealous. He thinks you are cute when you get all protective over him, but not only that it also makes him feel wanted and loved.

── He knows he is lucky to have you. Everytime he is reminded about how you practically saved his life he will cry about it. Maybe not around you, but in private most definitely.

── Insecure at times. You will always have to reassure him. Its no secret that throughout his life he has felt little, undermined, below everyone. You would try constantly to prove him wrong, and he would also try his best to believe you, but some nights, after a long shift, it would all come pouring out.

"They can't even fucking remember my name! It's Nam-gyu, not Nam-su! Fuck, I do all these things for them and they don't even care, maybe I am just a fucking useless promoter."

He's not going to be okay until he hears you telling him otherwise in that sweet voice of yours.

── Probably has convinced you to do drugs with him at least once.

"It's just something to help you relax, it's nothing that will hurt you, just take it. You trust me right?"

── Nam-gyu lovesss to surprise you, even if most of the time it's just with random trinkets, dates, etc. It makes him feel like he is doing at least one thing right. Seeing a wave of excitement come over your face because of something he did makes him feel great. This goes hand in hand with his love to prank you.

── Everything reminds him of you. He will be walking down the road and he will see a flower you had mentioned you liked. He will pick it, shoving it is his pocket to show you when you two are together later.

"You know that one flower breed or something you said you liked?" He would start casually, reaching into his pocket. "Well, I found one. Here. Take it."

He hears a new good love song? His mind will immediately wander to you. Sees your favorite color on something? 'Y/n would love this.'

── Defends you all the time. Even when you aren't around. If he hears someone bad mouthing you he will be quick to yell at them.

── You may not realize it, but everytime you are talking about something you like or something you are interested in, he is listening intently. He wants to be the one that remembers these things about you so that next time you have a conversation with him he can sneak in some random niche reference from one of your interests or buy you something you would love—ultimately making you love him even more.

── All he ever wants to do is be close to you. You could be laying in bed on the phone with a friend and Nam-gyu would plop down right next to you, instantly clinging to your sides and looking up at you with pleading eyes.

"I'm on the phone right now Nam-gyu," you would tell him, bringing a finger up to your lips to hush him.

He would groan, his hands traveling to your arms, to your waist, to your inner thigh. You would go completely silent.

"Y/n? Is everything okay?" Your friend would ask, confused on why you haven't said anything in the past 3 minutes. Nam-gyu would continue to rub on you.

"I think I need to go." You would respond, quickly hanging up. Nam-gyu would smirk, pulling you closer to him, face buried in the crook of your neck.

── Similar to the last one, Nam-gyu follows you around everywhere like a lost dog. It's rare you go somewhere alone because he always wants to tag along. It could be as simple as a run to the store and Nam-gyu will throw his shoes on, grab his car keys, and ask dumb questions like "Okay, so are we leaving now?"

Sometimes you could just want a break and Nam-gyu would take it personally.

"I think I wanna go alone this time baby," you would tell him as you threw on your jacket.

"Thats fucking nonsense.. you love me, don't you? and I also have an errand to run, so lets just do this together, huh?" He would rebuttal, already dragging you with him out the door with him.

── For some reason I don't see him being a fan of pet names. However, I think he would occasionally call you baby, babe, my love, etc.

#fanfiction #nam gyu #nam gyu x reader #namgyu #squid game fanfic #squid game season 2 #squid games namgyu #nam gyu x you #namgyu squid game #namgyu headcanons #i hate this

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ak319 · 1 day ago

Note

Reader feels bad that Dutch doesn't treat Molly right, so she leaves little gifts on her cot and somehow convinces Arthur to take them out for a girls day.

Arthur follows 20 feet behind them with the most menacing look so no one bothers the girls all day.

As a thank you (and for their entertainment), they take him to a bar and get him tipsy as hell

🌹anon

Warnings/MDNI: fluff, sparkles and more fluff?! 😭 I don't condone drinking. Reader doesn't drink, arthur does. The beautiful molly pic by erin on pin.

┆ ⤿ ❀ m.list

It began with little things. A dainty ivory comb left on Molly's cot. A pressed flower tucked into her journal. A spool of ribbon; pale lilac and silk-soft, or even a plate of something hot and delicious, perhaps a new dessert recipe you learnt. You never said they were from you, but Molly wasn't a fool. Eventually, she caught your eye across camp and gave you the smallest smile she could manage.

"She don't got nobody lookin' out for her," you muttered to Arthur one evening, arms crossed while Molly sat alone by the fire, unreadable and quiet. "Dutch drags her around like a damn trophy and forgets her the moment his name stops echoing. The other girls don't talk to her, like she's too proud. That's a lonely way to live. I hate it Arthur! I hate him too!"

There you go again...

Arthur sighed. "Ain't my business what Dutch does with his mess of a relationship. You shouldn't worry yourself over it too, darlin'."

"Hey! She didn't sign up to be ignored. No woman does! No one deserves that" And stormed off.

As usual.

The next day, you told him plainly, "I'm taking Molly to Saint Denis for a girl's day. She needs it. I'll be nice, even do her hair. But I want you to come too. You know, just in case someone gets... brave. Y'know...like we are in this new place and don't know our way around town."

Arthur groaned. "You makin' me babysit now?"

You batted your lashes. "Only if...you are in the mood to... hold my hand when we cross streets."

He grumbled but inside he was...giggling. Without a word he scurried off to set the saddle up (hiding his blush) making you snort and run to inform Molly.

He didn't walk beside you, no. Arthur stayed a good twenty feet behind like a looming shadow, arms crossed, watching everyone with narrowed eyes and a hand always close to his holster. Any man who so much looked both your way turned right around and went back to sweeping dirt off a clean sidewalk.

Molly didn't notice right away, too caught up in the sugar-sweet perfume stalls and the lightness in her chest, like she hadn't had a real laugh in years. You were doing your best to spoil her, dragging her to window displays, tying silk scarves around her hair, daring her to try ridiculous hats, buying her trinkets, whispering wicked things that made her giggle behind her hand.

Arthur, meanwhile, stood outside every shop like a watchdog, hat pulled low, looking like he'd kill for a reason. Literally.

"'He's following us," Molly whispered.

"Yeah," you smirked, "like a puppy! But a menacing one."

"And patient unlike the others back there."

Eventually, after the fourth stall and third cup of lemonade, you turned to Arthur and grinned, "Come onnnn, big man. You earned yourself a drink."

He tried to say no. Really did. But one drink turned into three.

Three into five. Now Arthur was slumped in a booth between you and Molly, red-faced and grumbling into his whiskey.

"I can shoot the cork off that bottle from here," he says suddenly with confidence. You and Molly exchange a look.

Nope.

"Arthur, put the gun down," you say.

"I can! I done it before! I'll even close one eye-"

"And the saloon will throw you out like a sack of potatoes!"

He grumbles and holsters it again, muttering something about "no respect for art." But he wasn't done.

"I just think... horses are real special," he mumbles, looking at the wall with glossy eyes. "They never judge you. They just listen. Good ears, horses…"

You pat his arm gently, and he grips your hand like it's keeping him tethered to earth. "And you,"

Oh no...something is coming up---

He stood up and yelled "You're better than a horse, woman!" Making everyone look your way in silence.

You sigh, dragging him down by his coat sleeve as he tries to stand. "Arthur, sit your ass down."

Molly sighed dreamily. "That's the nicest thing I've heard a man ever say"

"Someone looks at her too long, I will shoot 'em," he adds, flopping back into the booth and grinning proudly. "Ain't that romance?"

You leaned over, draped your arm around his shoulder. "That's insanity and a crime and you're drunk, Morgan. Very bad. Tsk."

"Am...not." He looked between you both, frowning. "I'm observant. Sober. S'just...you two're plannin' somethin'. You conniving...beautiful women. Got schemes. I can... feel it". You and Molly were crying with laughter.

"...Well it was her who braided your horse's mane last week," Molly confessed, nudging him.

"I liked it," Arthur slurred. "She looked pretty. Real classy. Just like her...selwf."

Arthur hiccups and squints at Molly through bleary eyes , leaning in, with a conspiratorial look on his face.

"You know, Miss O'Shea..." he slurs, elbow on the table, chin in his palm. "Yer a fine woman. And very smart."

You and Molly glance at each other warily.

"But I gotta say..." Arthur blinks slow, like the thought takes effort. "...you coulda done so much better."

Molly nearly chokes on her drink. "O-h?"

"Yeah. (Y/N)'s...right about him. That man wears more pomade than a Saint Denis street girl. An' he talks too much. Like he's always tryin' to get someone to marry his voice."

Seeing you wheeze Arthur was encouraged and went on.

"Every time he opens his mouth, I hear violins in my head. An' not the good kind. The 'we're about to die in a shipwreck' kind."

Molly blinked, cracking a smile. "Arthur-"

"And y'know what else?" He leans in closer, whispering like he's telling a state secret. "I once saw him ironin' his goddamn scarves."

You slap the table. "NO. WAY!"

"I touched one. It was warm."

Molly stares at him in a stunned silence...contemplating over his words. And that look gives you hope. You felt proud. At least she's thinking about it. For her betterment.

Arthur frowns into his glass. "...You deserve a man who don't talk like he's narratin' a goddamn novel every time he opens his mouth."

Molly sipped her drink. "Wait are you about to cry, Mr.Morgan..."

"Oh yeah....aww.."

"Oh...Don't cry, Mr. Morgan, y'know what? I'll keep you words in mind." she cooed.

"Mhm. But 'm not cryin'... I'm just thinkin' real hard."

He was low-key...??pouting??

"(Y/N), you can't let your man cry--do something-" The red haired said between laughs while you shrugged chuckling yourself. "Whaddya want me to do!?"

Eventually, you and Molly kissed his cheeks, opposite sides. Arthur blinked. Then leaned on your shoulder like dead weight.

"You're both...too pretty. Don't tell Susan I said that.... And nice...to me. But...too much trouble."

"Good kind of trouble, no?" you murmured, ruffling his hair as he purred. "Yeah..."

He passed out ten minutes later.

The next morning, Arthur woke up in his cot with a headache the size of Saint Denis and glitter somehow on his eyelids.

You were humming softly beside him, fixing your braid and enjoying your morning (tea/coffee)

"…Did I cry last night?" he rasped.

You smirked. "Only a little. And somewhere in middle you talked about taking us to rob a...chocolate train? But thankfully we stopped you."

Arthur groaned into his hands.

"She had fun," you said gently. "...That's all I wanted. Thanks a lot."

Arthur peeked through his fingers. "...Y'think we could do it again sometime?"

You paused. "Wait...you sure? Really?!"

"Yeah, anything for you. If it makes you happy. And Ms. O'Shea too." he muttered. "Maybe next time I don't pass out." He kissed and pinched your cheek making you laugh.

"Deal!" You gleamed kissing his cheeks too.

tag list: @sensitivegamergirl

#red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fluff #thanks anon!#thanks anon #molly rdr2 #molly oshea #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x fem reader #red dead redemption two #red dead 2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #rdr2 dutch #dutch van der linde

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thelunaticself · 3 days ago

Text

OUT AND ABOUT

john price x reader

a christmas getaway with your boyfriend.

a/n: you don't need to read part one to understand but here :)

cw: age gap, reader is well into uni, dubcon, dry humping, manipulative price

Baoase Luxury Resort : The ultra-exclusive resort promises to provide an unforgettable experience to guests seeking a peaceful retreat in comfort and style.

You flip the card over and over again. You're not stupid. You know what John is trying to say. A card shoved right inside the wrapping of the leather shoes that he saw all over your Pinterest board before ordering it right on your doorstep. “Pre-Christmas gift” he said.

Your phone vibrates.

“DO NOT REPLY” sent a message.

“you got the gift?”

“yup! they fit perfectly!”

“cant wait to see you in them love”

“youre always so good to me thanks john”

A “heart” reaction is all you get. Usually, he’d ask for a snap or a twirl if he were present. Is this another test? Haven't you been good lately? No cancelled date and always wearing short skirts that he ordered for you while sitting on his couch, a beer in one hand. They appear right above the long cart list of fishing equipment, pocket knives and airsoft guns. An abnormality in his life. A man like him was never born to love. He's trying at least.

You let it simmer for another five minutes but all you get is eerie silence, not the boiling affection you were hoping for. Right, the card. Are you supposed to ask about it?

“hey i noticed a card inside the wrap”

“you like the resort?”

“its nice”

That is all you said. Best to hear it from the horse’s mouth.

“i have a good date in mind”

He doesn't even bother to pretend anymore.

“john my parents.”

The three dots linger then disappear. Your parents. They are half the world away but somehow, the leash remains intact. Surely there must be better life choices to be made. Ditching family Christmas dinner to go on vacation with your 35-year-old boyfriend is not one of them.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ •✸•⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

The soft glow of the city’s light makes it quite hard to sleep when you're on this side of the bed. It's that type of room that has a window as a wall, located on the top floor. You told him you hated the top floor.

Even more frustrated at the glass wall when you first checked in. Uneasy when the lights were off and he slid his hand into your pj shorts, prodding at your panties.

“It isn't see-through from the outside, hun’ .”

John took a deep inhale into your neck as you swatted his hand away. They settled on your stomach instead, palming the soft pudge making you warm all over. He felt asleep like a kid that way.

Loud snores fill up cold space in the room. Why is the ac always too cold?

Your phone rings.

“Hi mom.”

“Hi, baby. I hope I didn't interrupt anything. I know how busy you get these days with the program.”

Something twists in your stomach. You hold on to John's hairy arm to keep yourself grounded.

“I'm just resting, it's alright. We did so much good today. Like, uh, delivering food to a local hospital. You won't believe what the kids-”

John stirs and shifts around, pressing himself to you as close as he possibly can. It is really hard to focus when his cologne is all over you. The rest of the phone call is uneventful and one you don't bother to remember. Lies flowed out of your mouth like second nature. One of the things you have gotten better at after dating John Price. Trained dog. Good dog.

He presses a kiss onto your shoulder and murmurs in that same spot, voice hoarse from sleep.

“Wish you’d let me meet your mum. Lovely lady I bet.”

“She’d kill both of us I bet.”

“Well, gotta start somewhere.”

You can feel a smug form without even looking back.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Mm.”

John shifts around, pretending to find a comfortable position. The hair on the back of your neck stands up when his hard-on presses right on the inside of your thigh.

“John-”

You warned.

“Just let me have this one, baby.”

“I wanna sleep-”

You reach down and try to swat his hand away like before.

But John never makes the same mistake twice.

You don't even process when he flips you to lie on your stomach, your cheek right against the cold pillow. Both of your wrists are held together and pressed awkwardly against your chest while he ruts between your thighs from behind.

“Sorry, baby. Been stressed lately.”

John presses a sweet apology kiss on your head. It's the scene at his apartment all over again. You end up beneath him one way or another. Perhaps letting you hold the leash for a while before latching it onto you is a turn on for him. Something about making the fruit sweeter at the end.

Your eyelids snap shut and you're back at your old room again. The chopping sound of your mom cooking downstairs. A nice afternoon. Soft lights thread through the binds, hitting the desk where you're hunched over reading. The book is now on your sister's shelf since you moved out for university.

You hope when the sweetness goes dull, when John realizes halfway through just how rotten it is, he takes another bite.

⌯⌲ buy me a coffee?

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writeeverything · 21 hours ago

Note

Hiii saw ur post about curt and rod I was hoping u could do head cannons for them with a reader whos like really sensitive kind of a cry baby u could say 😭id really appreciate it please and thank uuuu have a lovely day and night!

hiii, thank you so much for your request! i hope you enjoy these! you have a wonderful day/night, as well!

Curt and Rod with a Sensitive Reader HCS

So you know when Curt and Rod were snooping in your dating profile while you were in the office, and Curt pretty much implied that you weren't popular because you weren't as cool as they were? Yeah. That stung.

It's funny, though. Curt was the one often scolding Rod for his lack of tact, but it's really the other way around. He wasn't trying to hurt your feelings. His mouth just…moved faster than his mind sometimes.

Even though they weren't the only ones that took a swing at your lack of social life, you've really taken a liking to these two. So it hurt worse coming from them. Perhaps it was the combination of being disposed so quickly by Valdivian and then being thrust into this whole mess with the Dateviators. Hearing what's been obvious to you for most of your adult life struck something raw in you. So...you cried.

And that was when Curt and Rod learned that they had to be careful with you…which was something you didn't want, at all.

You loved hanging around these guys and their sass and jokes was what you enjoyed about them. You didn't want them to change their whole dynamic because of the one time they stepped on your toes!

Besides, it was a blow to your pride every time they'd nervously look over to you after joking around. It made you feel like you were fragile.

With some time and communication, they figured out what was off-limits and what was free game. Things were good again!

But, as you enter a relationship with them, Curt and Rod also learn that it's not just them that can trigger your tears.

You cry when an inanimal curls up against your side. You're damn near inconsolable if you're re-watching an episode of a show where you know your favorite character's gonna die. And if you manage to get on an object's bad side, you're an absolute mess.

At times, Curt is a sympathy crier. If you're crying, he's crying. He tries to put on a brave face for you when you're not feeling the best, but man, he can't stand the sight of his baby crying! And if it happens to be his fault you're crying? Someone get this man off the floor before he starts going on about being a bad boyfriend.

Supportive as always, Rod is there to console you. While he won't tease you (much), he playfully gripes that he can't kiss that cute face of yours that much if you're crying all the time! As if that stops him, though. He'll kiss all over your face to get you to smile again!

Of course, Curt and Rod fuss over which one gets to comfort you.

"I got this, Curt. They don't need you crying over them, too!"

"Please. You'd just worry about getting your drapes wet!"

Their bickering is usually a good way to get you to cheer up. Sometimes, they inspire you to throw some shade their way.

"Not even a bad time can stop you from lightin' us up, huh?" Curt says.

"It's what we love about them," Rod replies, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple.

#tammi writes: date everything #date everything curt and rod #date everything #date everything headcanons #date everything x reader #curt and rod hcs #curt and rod

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thought-you-knew · 3 days ago

Text

what more could i want

Summary: things were going great until you started having doubts about your friendship with bob. whether or not you or bob are ready to cross that line.

Pairings: bob reynolds x fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, emotionally constipated reader/ avoidant attachment, slow burn, friends-to-lovers. limited use of y/n, reader's appearance isn't described. not proofread

Author's Note: Hi! I accidentally deleted this blog when I was doing some old tumblr clean out. This is not plagiarized. I know that previously, some people wanted a part 2, and it will come, slowly. Please bear with me. This is the first time I've written fanfiction since my one direction days, and that was a lifetime ago. I have part of pt. 2 written, but I'm still unsure where to go with it.

I also reuploaded the pb&jj roommates au

Who knew a name could hold so much meaning to you, and how much a name could change everything. Bob, how has such a simple name managed to become so deeply intertwined with your very being so effortlessly? Almost as if it was meant to be there from the very start.

"Are you even listening to me?" You tear your gaze away from the open skies and look over to the pilot's seat. Yelena is already looking at you. More like staring through you.

"Hmm?"

"What's with you lately? Your mind always seems to be," she waves her hand in the air, "not focused."

You look away from her piercing gaze. "It's nothing."

"Liar. I thought we promised each other no more lies."

"Lena, I'm just exhausted from the mission. That's all, promise." You try giving her your best fake smile. Which she obviously sees right through. It's a partial truth, partial lie. The mission had lasted longer than expected, and seeing as it was just you and Yelena on this one. It felt like you two did twice as much work.

"You know what I know," Yelena comments back while turning off the autopilot and taking over the controls.

"What do you think you know?"

"That Bob misses you." That simple statement makes you freeze, while your heart races a bit. You glance at her and see that she has a smug look on her face.

"Bob misses whoever is gone on a mission."

Yelena lets out her deep, throaty laugh. "Oh yeah, he definitely misses Walker when he's away for weeks at a time. Wanna try again?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Just admit what you've been denying these past few months."

You start picking at your nails. "We're friends. That's it."

"And that's why you're a bad liar."

A few hours later, you and Yelena are finally back at the Watchtower. Yelena turns to you when you're both in the elevator. "Don't worry about the report. I'll handle it."

"Yelena-"

The elevators open, and Yelena gives you a slight shove. "Go see your man." The doors slide shut before you can protest. Turning around, you see that the open common space is mostly unoccupied.

"Hey! Look who's finally back. Thought you died or something." You brush off John's comment. Too mentally drained to deal with the usual back and forth. You head for the open kitchen and see that Ava gets up and follows you.

"How was Istanbul?" She asks once you've managed to chug down some water.

You raise your eyebrows at her. "Fine, and when are you one for small talk?"

"I'm not. Something happened while you and Yelena were gone."

That caught your attention, and your mind immediately went to Bob. Is he okay? Is he hurt? Even though technically he can't get hurt, there's still a possibility. Everything was going so well. He's been doing so much better. What had happened within 3 weeks?

Ava placed a hand on your shoulder to ground you. John had wandered into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, watching you two.

"Geeze, don't make it sound like that," he had a slight smirk on his face, "don't worry, your boyfriend is okay."

"He's not my boyfriend." Some of the tension was leaving your body. Bob's fine, everything is fine.

"My bad, boy who's just a friend."

You turn your attention back to Ava. "So, what happened?"

You find yourself standing in front of Bob's door. Hand raised, but hesitant to knock. Your mind goes back to the brief conversation with Ava in John. It's no big deal, everything is fine. This changes nothing. Why did Ava and John make it seem bigger than it was?

Just as you're about to knock, voices from the other side stop you.

Two voices.

One is Bob's, low and quiet, yet still self-assured.

The other was a girl's voice.

A sudden barking and scratching at the door makes you move back and almost run.

"Oh, someone must be on the other side." The girl's voice says, and the door is swung open. Two things happen simultaneously. One, a fluffy brown and white dog leaps at your chest, and two, a girl with glasses and a long braid meets your eye.

Bob rushes over, his concerned face changes once he sees it's you. The girl moves back slightly so Bob can grab the dog's collar, said dog is still trying to lick your face.

The way Bob says your name makes you wanna run and hide away. "You're finally back."

The dog has finally calmed down and is panting happily while keeping a fixed gaze on you.

"Yup, just landed." You're gaze meets the girl's, and you can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance.

Why was she in Bob's room? Since when did Bob let random people in his room? Does Bob feel more comfortable with her than you? What exactly happened within the three weeks you were gone?

"I'm Beth," The girl said, holding out her hand. "I'm one of the trainers at the dog shelter."

Bob watches as you quickly take her hand, give it a firm shake, and quickly drop it.

Beth turns back to Bob with a slight, shy smile. "I should probably head out. Are we still on for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, and Gus too."

You watch as the two exchange a few more words, and then Beth is leashing up Gus, and the two are off. One thing you do notice is that Beth is wearing a very familiar scarf.

"Shall we?" Bob's voice startles you, and you're being pulled back to his presence. You look at him and see that he's gesturing back towards his room.

You find yourself feeling cautious, like the first time you entered Bob's room all those months ago. You stare into his room, almost feeling like you shouldn't enter. Bob says your name again, this time a little hesitantly.

"I'm actually tired." Your voice sounds vacant and faraway.

"Oh...yeah, no yeah. Long mission and all that." Bob says with a slight chuckle. You avoid his gaze and start to head back down the hallway.

Bob says your name again, and you wish he wouldn't in that tone. A tone that holds such care and almost a longing. You plaster on your best smile and turn back to face him. Bob moves closer and gazes at your face. You hold your breath and wait. Your eyes move across his face as well.

He moves a bit closer. You notice how much his hair has grown in the last three weeks. His hand raises up to tuck a stray bit of hair behind your ear.

His touch is warm.

"Do you-"

"Hey, Y/N." Mel's voice calls from the other end of the hallway. "I know Yelena is working on the report, but I need to double-check some things with you."

You pull away first and head towards her without looking back.

"I can't believe Bob has a dog," Yelena says, lying upside down on your bed. Ava is camped out on a bean bag a few feet away. "Also, who the hell is Beth, and why is she always here?" Yelena looks over at you, but your face remains void of any emotion.

"I mean, it's good that he has a dog," you reply, "I know animals help when it comes to emotional support. Look at Bucky and Alpline."

"Yeah, but Alpine didn't come with a Beth." Ava chimes in.

You roll your eyes, somewhat regretting this girl's night.

"Guys, it's fine."

Ava and Yelena share a look. "Say it's fine again and mean it this time."

"Also, if it's fine, why have you been avoiding Bob?"

"Oooh! Good point! Answer, please."

You stand from the bed, making both of them sit up.

"Guys, it's not a big deal. I think it's great that Bob is expanding his social circle. Also, there's no avoiding whatsoever. Bob's busy with Gus and therapy. And I'm busy-"

"Avoiding him and Beth, we know." Yelena interrupts.

You grimace, thinking back to the past week. So maybe you have been avoiding Bob. But you can't help it. Three's a crowd, and you're not a fan of watching Beth not so subtly flirt with Bob. Either Bob is oblivious as hell when it comes to Beth's advances or-

No. You don't want to think about the or. At the same time, you feel slightly guilty for feeling jealous. It's not like you've admitted your own feelings out loud. You don't know if you will now.

Not with Beth hovering around.

"Just talk to him."

And you do finally talk to Bob.

A week later.

Only Beth talks to you first.

You're half watching a show that Yelena has abandoned when Beth approaches you.

"Hey, do you have a sec?" Her tone is hopeful.

You mute the show and look up at her. She sits down a few cushions away, and you notice that she's wearing that scarf again.

Your scarf. Your scarf that you left in Bob's room the night before leaving for your mission with Yelena.

"...you know what I mean?" It takes you a moment to realize that Beth has continued talking, not waiting to see if you've been listening. "like I know he's been through a lot, but I can see a lot of improvement with him and Gus."

Been through a lot is an understatement, but you don't say anything.

"Do you think he's ready? Or am I coming off as too pushy? Sometimes I feel like he might like me back, but I can't be sure."

That does get you attention. "Ready for what?" But you already know what she's talking about.

Beth shoots you a slightly peeved look. "Y/N. Bob, what do you think I should do?

"Uh..."

She scoots a little closer to you, her gaze imploring. "Bob talks about you a lot. I mean, you are one of his closest friends. So, I thought you could give me some advice on how to ask him out without scaring him off."

You take her in, her eyes wide and hopeful. The expression reminds you of one that Gus has given the team members during meal times when he's hoping one of them will drop some food by "accident".

Feeling like you're not fully committed to this conversation. Beth reaches out and takes your hand. "I really like Bob."

So do I

You gently withdraw your hand and turn to fully face her. "Look, I can't speak on Bob's behalf, but just be patient with him."

Beth isn't satisfied with that answer." Okay, but do you think he likes me back? What about his past relationships?"

This was heading towards a red no zone.

"You've only known him a few weeks-"

"I know, I know. I should be asking him that, but it's too soon for that, ya'know? And since you're such close friends..."

Your mouth moves before you can think. "You want me to him if he-"

Beth lets out a squeal and hugs you. "Oh my god, that would be amazing!"

The only thing you can focus on is the soft material of the scarf brushing against your neck.

It's late. Too late to be up, but your mind can't quiet down. Which is why you find yourself standing in the semi-darkened kitchen, aimlessly scrolling through your phone. Deciding whether or not you should make something.

You're just about to call it a night when Bob enters the kitchen. Half asleep himself. You're both caught off guard by each other, so the only thing you can do is stare.

You notice that Bob isn't wearing one of his usual sweaters. He's wearing a white fitted t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

"Did you finally overheat?" You try to ease the slight awkwardness between the two of you.

Bob looks down as if almost forgetting what he put on. He tugs at the bottom of his shirt as if it will magically turn oversized.

"Oh..uh, this? I think this is Walker's. There was this laundry mishap involving him and Alexei. Long story short, they managed to break more than one dryer. So...yeah," He gives a slight laugh before looking back up. "it was either this or one of Alexei's obnoxious Avengerz tracksuits."

"It looks good on you." You say before thinking, and you catch Bob's slight change in expression, from apprehensive to relieved, to something else. Something you chose to brush off.

There's still a slight awkwardness in the air. The last time there was an awkwardness between the two of you was when Bob was still adjusting to the team.

"Couldn't sleep?" His question echoes back to the first time he found you in the kitchen at the dead of night.

"Do you wanna go for a walk?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

The city is surprisingly quiet at 3am. You and Bob stop at a park near the Watchtower.

"This is nice," you motion towards the empty park, "Gus would've liked this. Why didn't you bring him along?"

It takes Bob a little too long to respond, but when he does, his words make your heart beat faster.

"I don't need him when I'm with you." You look over, and Bob is already looking at you with a soft expression. Some small voice in the back of your head tells you to reciprocate.

Instead, you think back to Beth and the scarf. Why does she still have your favorite scarf? Does Bob know that it's your favorite? That's a stupid question, of course he knows, you wore it all the time. So why give it to her like that? So easily.

Instead, you panic, withdraw, and deflect.

"Beth seems nice, and she's good with Gus."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Ask him, Beth's question floats around in your mind.

"I think Beth has a crush on you."

Bob lets out a semi-loud laugh. "Oh, you think?" You look over and see that he has a slight smirk on his face. Okay, so he wasn't that oblivious. Which makes it worse. "Beth is nice and all, but... I dunno."

You can't stop yourself. "Do you like her?" What you've been wanting to ask is why does she have my scarf?

"Why? Where is this coming from?" You can see him staring at you from the corner of your eye. You don't dare to face him. Instead, you keep your gaze fixed on a distant lamp post.

"I'm your friend."

"And?" He pushes gently.

You can feel a lump forming in the back of your throat. "And what else is there? If you like her, consider asking her out. Only if you're ready for that."

"Like I said, she's nice. But I'm trying to keep my options open."

You scoff. "What options? Robert, are you trying to tell me you've been sneaking around these past few weeks?"

"N-no nothing like that. But ya-know, there are always other... options."

"Well, there's her or someone from the team," you give a dramatic gasp, "Bob, don't tell me it's..."

Bob sighs, hangs his head low, and jokingly responds. "You caught me. There is something between me and Walker. We're in love."

You lean over and give him a playful shove. "Knew it. Enemies to lovers at its finest."

"What about friends to lovers?"

You catch his eye and give a small smile. "That's another good one. People love a good friends-to-lovers story."

"Really?"

"Yeah, what more could they want. It's romantic."

"Huh." Silence falls between you two, but this time it isn't awkward. Just calm and peaceful.

#bob reynolds x fem!reader #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds #bob reynolds imagine #thunderbolts #mcu #marvel

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slashedgutz · 23 hours ago

Text

in sickness and in health

you and mark are supposed to be getting married, but you can't help but think he's hiding something from you-- an affair. however, you couldn't be further from the truth.

a/n; yeah i gave in and watched countdown. have some ansgt. likes and reblogs appreciated!! no tw really, except for angst and mentions of cancer. enjoy <3 join the taglist here!!

You knew something was going on.

In fact, you've been waiting for this day for months.

So it's no surprise when Mark comes home one day, solemn as usual, and tells you to sit down. You're in the bedroom, a place where you're meant to feel safe and comfortable, yet it doesn't feel like it right now. There's a silence lingering in the air, stale and bitter. You feel sick.

"We need," Mark begins-- he stops, though, hand pinching the bridge of his nose. "We need to talk."

You bite back the sigh that crawls up your throat. Mark's always suffered with migraines, even worse in recent months, but it's been unbearable as of late. For both of you.

And yet, you can't help but assume they've manifested from guilt-- primarily due to his cheating. Whilst you don't have proof, you just know it, can feel it deep within your bones, that all this sneaking off, all these secret meetings, are because of one thing; he's having an affair.

It's not fair. You two are supposed to be getting married in less than two months (five weeks, but hey, that no longer matters), but now you're here, unable to speak to each other like goddamn adults.

A couple of months ago, you would've been ready to die for this man, and vice versa. Isn't that what love is about, 'till death do us part'?

"What's going on?" You're quick to speak, quicker than him. Mark's eyes narrow slightly as you stand up from the bed. You've had enough-- enough of the secrets, enough of the lies.

"There's something I need to tell you." And here it comes, you think, here comes the confession that you've been anxiously dreading. That he's fucked some girl, someone younger and prettier and better than you, and he's leaving you.

"Yeah, no shit," You whisper to yourself, and it somehow makes the hurt more palpable, the pain taking root in him too, but you’re speaking again before he can interrupt. "God, Mark, you've been distant for months, always sneaking off--"

He interjects, raising a hand. "Yeah, I can explain that." His face is stoic, the same expression you've seen him wear when he has a tough day at work. Like you're under interrogation; a fucking criminal.

"Can you?" You sigh, exasperated. You can feel tears sting in your eyes, and you don't even bother to wipe them away as they slowly, but surely, begin to fall. "Just-- wow, you're still fucking lying."

“What?” Mark asks, frowning. Do you really need to spell it out for him?

You sober up quickly. “You’re still lying to me, Mark.”

“Lying to you?” He repeats, and you nod. “How am I lying to you?”

And then, the floodgates open.

"For a start, you're treating me like some-- some criminal, and not your partner," You stand up now, closing the space between you. He closes his eyes, sighing heavily. "And you're, like, never home, so where are you? Fucking some girl? Taking bribes? What, what is it that I can't goddamn know?"

"Don't do this--"

"You can't even fucking look at me!" You cry, a sharp jab to his chest. "What is going on that you can't even talk to me-- your fiancee?"

Mark can't meet you eyes. "Cancer." Is all he says.

You almost do a double-take. Did he just say..?

"Glioblastoma Multiform or something," He gently waves his hand in the air, brushing off the word like it's something so causal, something you hear everyday. "

It's the last thing you expected from Mark. Sure, he can be an asshole at times, and yeah, he's been more intense in the past few weeks, but you simply (and naively) believed it was due to wedding stress. Oh, how wrong you've been.

A part of you hopes that this is all a nightmare, that you'll wake up soon and everything will be back to normal. That Mark hasn't just told you that he has fucking cancer.

But it's not a dream. You know that because you can feel the heaviness of Mark's secret weighing on not only your shoulders, but his, and the exhaustion in his voice. Everything hits you like a freight train-- and here you were, accusing him of an affair.

Numb. Sad. Confused. It's like your body can't quite settle on what to feel.

“I— I don’t understand,” You whisper. What is there to not understand? It's cancer, it's incurable. Nothing more to it. "Wha-- when?"

"I found out a couple weeks back. Almost passed out on a case, so chief sent me to the ER," Mark gently moves past you, sinking onto the bed. "They did an MRI and bam-- massive tumour."

There's a beat of silence as you slowly take this in. This new information sits heavy in your stomach, like you've eaten lead.

"So, uh, what now?" You ask, taking a shaky breath as your chest tightens Knowing you can't bring yourself to look at him while you speak, you look down at your hands, fingers playing with your sleeve. You gaze at the ring on your finger-- guess the wedding is definitely not happening.

"I'm not getting treatment, mainly because there's nothing they can do," Mark explains. He pauses, again-- must be another twinge of pain in his head. "So, I just gotta wait it out, really."

"But what about us?" What about me, is what you really want to say, but now is not the time to make this about you. The love of your life is fucking dying, and there's nothing you can do.

Mark smiles sadly at you, getting up from the bed and walking over. All you feel is regret, the guilt of yelling and accusing him gnawing at your bones, leaving you as nothing. You go to open your mouth, to try and apologise, but instead, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly.

"We'll work it out, sweetheart," He murmurs into your hair, then pulls back, planting a small kiss on your forehead. "We always do."

But you don't believe him. Again.

Now, everything feels like it all makes sense. Despite the secrecy, Mark had been doing a lot for you-- buying you gifts, taking you out. Things had never been better. You were communicating more, and better together.

Except you know why. He's dying, and is doing all he can to give you the best memories possible of him before he goes.

So maybe you guys weren't doing so good after all.

taglist;

#fanfiction #countdown #mark meachum #mark meachum x reader #drabble #oneshot #angst #jensen ackles x reader #jensen fucking ackles #supernatural #writing #dean winchester x reader #soldier boy x reader

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kenzdolls · 2 days ago

Text

JAX W/ EEL READER HEAD-CANONS .

⌗ pairing: (TADC) jax x eel! reader

⌗ anon request: hi! I saw your requests are open and i really liked your jax headcanons. do you think you could do relationship headcanons where the SOs digital body resembles an eel? (if not that’s okay) thank you :)

⌗ a/n: thx for requesting this!! sry this was so late buddy..this is not my greatest work my bad..and me actually using emojis?

FIRST TIME MEETING:

▹ jax literally does a double take when you first spawn in because??? an eel??? in a digital circus??? okay he's seen weirder but there's something about your sleek design that makes him go "huh" instead of immediately planning a prank

▹ definitely doesn't stare at how gracefully you move he's just... observing. for prank purposes. obviously.

▹ first interaction is him trying to "test the newbie" by putting something slippery in your path but jokes on him you're an eel you literally glide over it like it's nothing and he's just standing there like 🧍‍♂️

▹ "so... you're like... a water sausage with eyes?" (cue you giving him the most deadpan stare) "...i'm kidding! ...mostly."

▹ when you first speak he's expecting some kind of sophisticated underwater creature voice but you just sound??? normal??? and he's weirdly disappointed but also intrigued

▹ absolutely tries to get a rise out of you by calling you "slippery" and "fish stick" and when you just roll with it he's like... damn okay this one's different

▹ lowkey impressed when you navigate the circus like you're swimming through air, all smooth and fluid-like, and he's trying so hard not to watch but failing miserably

▹ first time he sees you get actually startled (probably by one of his pranks) you do this thing where you coil up defensively and he's like "...that's actually pretty cute wait what did i just think"

▹ makes so many water/ocean puns around you that even he starts cringing at himself (but doesn't stop)

▹ absolutely does not think about how your eyes are actually really pretty he's just noting that they're... effective. for seeing. obviously.

FALLING IN LOVE:

▹ this man is in denial with a capital d-e-n-i-a-l like he's convinced he just finds you "interesting" and "fun to mess with" (kinger: "jax you literally follow them around like a lost puppy" jax: "i do not—")

▹ starts doing pranks specifically designed to get your attention, like really elaborate ones that require you to come find him to complain about them (which you usually don't, and it drives him insane)

▹ definitely doesn't time his walks around the circus to "coincidentally" run into you he's just... exploring. the same hallways. repeatedly.

▹ when you laugh at something (especially one of his jokes) he gets this stupid little smug smile and ragatha's like "oh my god you're whipped" and he's like "shut up"

▹ starts leaving little objects in places he knows you'll find them, nothing romantic (he tells himself) just... things. like a cool marble here, a interesting button there. (it's totally romantic and everyone knows it)

▹ gets weirdly protective when abstraction is mentioned around you, like suddenly he's not joking anymore and there's this serious look in his eyes that nobody's really seen before

▹ pomni catches him just... watching you sometimes and he gets so flustered trying to explain why (spoiler: he can't)

▹ absolutely refuses to admit he's memorized your daily routine but somehow always knows exactly where you'll be at any given time

▹ starts making jokes that are specifically catered to your sense of humor and when you actually laugh he's internally like "yes" but externally he's just 😏

▹ doesn't totally saves the really good pranks for when you're around to see them because your reactions are the best part

▹ gets genuinely upset when other people don't appreciate your unique qualities like "what do you mean you think they're weird they're perfect" (immediately regrets saying that out loud)

▹ lowkey panics when you seem sad or stressed and has no idea how to help so he just... hovers. awkwardly. trying to think of ways to cheer you up that don't involve pranks

▹ starts asking really random questions about eels and ocean life like he's doing research (he is) (it's not subtle)

▹ zooble: "just tell them you like them" jax: "like them? who said anything about liking them? i find them tolerable at best" (his invisible tail is literally wagging as he says this)

HIM AS A S/O:

▹ honestly the confession probably happens during some crisis situation where he blurts it out thinking you're about to abstract or something and then you're both just standing there like "...well okay then"

▹ dating in the digital circus is weird because there's no real privacy but jax finds ways to make it work, like secret hideouts he's discovered through years of exploration

▹ absolutely the type to play pranks on you but they're like... affectionate pranks? if that makes sense? like he'll hide your favorite things but always in places where you'll find them easily + maybe discover something nice along the way

▹ learns that you can actually breathe underwater (in whatever digital water exists in the circus) and now he's determined to find a way to join you because "it's not fair that you have a whole secret area i can't access"

▹ definitely doesn't totally keeps a mental list of all your favorite things and things that make you happy for future reference

▹ gets so smug when the others realize you're dating like "yeah that's right the eel chose me" (you: "i'm literally right here")

▹ still calls you weird nicknames but now they're fond instead of teasing (though still teasing) like "my favorite sea pancake" or "electric noodle" [i cringed writing this comment..]

▹ absolutely tries to impress you with increasingly elaborate pranks and gets genuinely excited when you appreciate the creativity behind them

▹ learns to read your moods really well since your expressions can be subtle, and he's surprisingly good at knowing when you need space vs when you need company

▹ definitely the type to remember random details about things you've said in passing and bring them up weeks later (you mentioned liking a specific color once and now everything he gives you is that color)

▹ protective but in a "i'm the only one allowed to mess with them" way, like if anyone else tries to prank you he's immediately like "absolutely not that's my job"

▹ finds excuses to touch you casually because your skin is smooth and cool and it's actually really comforting?? like he'll just grab your hand randomly and be like "just checking if you're still slimy" (you're not slimy and he knows it)

▹ late night conversations where he's more vulnerable and actually talks about his fears about abstraction and being stuck forever, and you're one of the only people he trusts with that side of himself

▹ absolutely tries to learn more about your species/form so he can be a better partner, like he'll ask innocent questions about what you need to be comfortable and then quietly make sure those needs are met

▹ gets jealous in the most ridiculous ways like if you spend too much time talking to pomni he's like "what does she have that i don't have" (you: "social anxiety and an exit obsession" jax: "...okay fair point")

▹ your relationship is basically built on affectionate banter and mutual weirdness appreciation, like you're both odd in your own ways and somehow that just... works

▹ absolutely does not totally daydreams about what it would be like if you both weren't stuck in the digital circus and could have a normal relationship but he keeps those thoughts to himself mostly

▹ ragatha: "you two are actually really sweet together" jax: "ew no we're not we're cool and mysterious" (he's holding your hand as he says this)

⌗ taglist: @idexmids @siriuslyginnychase @eleteo125 @st4r-dustx @corpsebridenightamare @boreaswrites [OPEN]

✦ REQUESTS ARE OPEN! ✦

#tadc jax x reader #jax tadc x reader #jax x reader #tadc jax x y/n #tadc jax x you #jax x you #jax x y/n #jax tadc x you #tadc x you #tadc x reader

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tenebristism · 2 days ago

Text

surrounded [2]

pairing: nam-gyu (player 124) x reader

part 1

Nam-gyu faces two truths: one, who is he if not for Thanos' goon, and two, does exclusivity still scare him?

word count: 4,206

almost DONE one more PART so i can wrap this up PROPERLY but im gonna make it a lot shorter :P also not proofread because my attention span is about yay high

Voting had taken place just minutes after your recent brush with mass destruction. Upon 456’s mention of there even being a voting system, evident in the contract that no one actually read, players voted on whether to stay and finish up the games or leave and split the cash.

Red light, green light. That stupid doll’s voice echoed in your head. The corpses, the blood, the screams–you hated it all. You’d rather die yourself than have to watch death consume those around you. So, the obvious choice would’ve been X–save yourself while you’re still breathing.

So why had you voted O?

Maybe it was the way those who voted to stay were shouting at you louder than those who voted X. Like they knew no matter how they tried to persuade everyone, they were aware of just how strong of a grip money can have on one’s life, especially when you’re in debt. Maybe it was the way he pulled you aside before you went to vote, albeit gently, like you were a fragile butterfly he was picking up by the wings.

“You know what to vote,” he had murmured in your ear. “You’ve got nothing to worry about while you’re with us, with me.”

Maybe you voted O just to please him. You’d be lying to yourself if you said it was completely for your own benefit. Maybe it was just to hear that barely audible “smart girl” as you swept past Nam-gyu to take your place with the game-goers.

O won the vote by 2. You would be staying for at least one more game. One more game, then you'd tell your ‘teammates’ they can shove these stupid games up their asses. Just a bit more money, and you'd get out of here debt free. Just one more game.

Meals were served after voting. Rice and meat, usually something you could stomach, looked disgustingly similar to the fat and muscle of the human body now. You can't even poke it without getting squeamish.

“You should eat,” Nam-gyu pipes up from beside you through a mouthful of rice. “Don't wanna starve before you get out of here.”

He's joking, but honestly, the thought crosses your mind.

“Not hungry,” you sigh. “Want mine?”

He swallows loudly. “No.”

“I'm going to throw it away then.”

“Just eat it,” Nam-gyu grumbles as he shovels the last of his meal into his mouth. “Can’t be tired for the next game.”

“It's just…” You turn your nose up at the tin containing your food. “It looks like…”

Nam-gyu processes your implications. He chuckles lightly, then drops it once he sees you're dead serious.

“Don't think about that right now.”

“It's hard not to.”

“...You're so picky.”

Of course he ends up eating your meal. You're grateful it doesn't go to waste, at the very least.

“Good?”

He nods. “Would've been better if it went to someone hungry.”

“Sorry.”

He shrugs. “Your problem, not mine.” Deep down he reminds himself to take extra care to make sure you don't slip up next game because of your faltering energy.

The two of you become aware of the conversation taking place beside your bed, which is more like you and Nam-gyu’s chat spot now. Thanos leans over another man whose vest reads 333. You recognize him as being associated with the pregnant girl, one you’d only seen around the nay-sayers in continuing the games.

“Is this over his girl?” You lean over to whisper to Nam-gyu.

“No clue.” He sets his chopsticks down, curiously watching the two men talk. 333’s face has this look of faux composure as Thanos leans in closer and closer, unblinking eyes dead set on the man below him. The volume of their conversation increases, until the tension bursts. Thanos swings, knocking 333 to the ground.

Nam-gyu grins in anticipation. However, when their skirmish becomes forceful, throwing them both onto the main floor, you almost try to stop him from intervening, even though you know it’s inevitable. Nam-gyu pulls 333 off Thanos, but instead of holding him back, presents him to Thanos like a punching bag, a trophy to be manhandled. You frown. You weren't there earlier to find out why the two of them hate this guy so much, but the 2 versus 1 dynamic is a bit much even for 333. Seeing Nam-gyu like this is a little upsetting too–no way he would’ve fought 333 if not for Thanos instigating the brawl.

Eventually an older man, 001, comes to truly break up the fight. Being older, and presumably wiser, you thought he would just pull them apart. Something about a fair fight and a lecture seems to tip Thanos in the wrong direction. Yet he doesn't even swing before the elder man has him in a chokehold, and you fear it could get ugly quick. You move forward, and just as you thought, Nam-gyu tries to step in only to end up on the ground as well. Immediately you spring up from your spot and skitter over to him, who holds his ankle in pain. 001 grips Thanos’ neck between his fingers like he weighs nothing. In one swift motion he’s on the ground, face turning red, then pale.

“I'm sorry,” Thanos says, strained around the hand on his throat, “Please…”

Nam-gyu is clutching his ankle, sucking air through his teeth. You cast a shadow over him and hold out a hand for him wordlessly. His eyes flicker between your hand and 001. Eventually, he clasps your open hand, accepting your help, the size difference apparent now. HIs palms are freezing. Cold hands, warm heart.

You almost stumble back from the added weight when he gets back on his feet. “Shit…are you good?”

He flexes his fist, physically preparing to get back in the fight, but you tug him back.

“That son of a bitch,” he mutters, eyes never leaving 001 as you pull him back to the bunks. He doesn't pry his arm out of your grasp even as you sit him down.

Thanos, now free of 001’s grip, gasps for air. For some reason, the crowd claps. You snicker.

“Stupid,” you sneer. “What are they clapping for?”

Nam-gyu pats your hands nonchalantly. You drop them at your sides, blood rushing to your face.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine.” He glances up at you. You're too busy watching Thanos hobble back to the bunks, pride crushed into a powder under the other man's foot.

While Thanos sulks in the corner, an announcement rings over the loudspeaker. You can't hear it well over Thanos’ complaining, but when the lights dim you can guess what the announcement was about.

You rub your eyes. The food from earlier sounds just a little more appetizing now that your stomach is growling loud as ever, and the body next to you notices it, too. You turn onto your side, away from him.

“Hungry?” He says, and you can't see his visage but you assume he's smiling. I told you so, that's probably what he's thinking.

“Yeah. So what?”

“You should've eaten.”

“Are you worried?” You scoff, leaning back to briefly meet his eyes.

“Just saying.” Your stomach jumps when you feel the mattress dip with the weight of another person. Suddenly you’re acutely aware of every little detail on his face that you can see this close. His smell has become familiar to you. Does he notice your own features when he looks at you?

“Don't you have your own bed?” You sit up and lean your weight back onto your hands.

“Do you want me to go back to my own bed?” Nam-gyu tilts his head and gives you a questioning look. You choke on your words, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“No.”

“Then don't whine about it.”

For a couple seconds, he doesn't say anything–just sits with you in the comfort of silence, with the burden of heavy thoughts.

You wonder what will happen when you make it out. Will you pretend you don't know each other? Or will you still be friends? Will he be the one to kill you here, or vice versa? Will you even make it out?

You're about to ask before he starts to talk, interrupted by you.

You can barely see his pitch-black eyes in the dim light of the piggy bank. “Sorry, what?”

“What were you going to school for?” He repeats, just a little louder this time.

“Astrophysics,” you reply. The quizzical look on his face makes you chuckle.

“Like stars and shit? Big dipper, little dipper?” The man says, almost like he couldn’t possibly grasp the concept of having your eyes glued to the night sky and seeing mathematical equations.

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Nam-gyu slowly scoots himself back. Testing the waters. You fold your knees up for him. “That's cool.”

You smile. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What did you do before…this?”

Nam-gyu rolls his shoulders. “I told you I worked at a club. The one where I met Thanos.”

“No, I know that,” you roll your eyes and shift closer, “But what did you…do?”

“What did I do,” he echoes, and pauses. You wait. An answer never comes.

“The club was your whole life, or…?”

“I guess the club life was, is, sure. Drugs. Tried almost every kind. Got some for Thanos too.”

“Really?” You lean forward, and he nods, facing you head on.

“Does that scare you?” He says. “Talking to a druggie?” His mouth betrays the ghost of a smirk.

“No.”

Someone shifts in the bunks above you. You both wait with bated breath, silent, only to hear them heave a sigh and go quiet again. As he releases his breath you feel it on your hands.

“You should sleep.” Nam-gyu pats your knee. “You’ll be a corpse by tomorrow if anything.”

“You’re always telling me what to do,” you jest, half-joking.

“I’m older than you.”

“You don’t know that.”

Nam-gyu squints at you, then smiles, sweet and smug and your face turns hot.

“You’re fresh out of college,” he remarks, then quirks his head to the side. “You’re, what, 23? 24?”

“24,” you sigh. “And I’m not finished with college.”

Nam-gyu doesn’t respond, so you take the opportunity to fire his question back at him.

“You can’t be much older than me? If you aren't, you're practically a baby.”

“Uh, no,” he says matter-of-factly, “Obviously. I’m 27.”

“27 and already in debt?”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You think to ask him more questions about himself, about his life, because as much as he denied it he wasn’t all clubbing and drugs. Maybe he finds joy in animals. Maybe he likes to watch the sunset and think. That’s stupid. Don’t say that.

“Thanks, by the way,” you suddenly say, voice soft, “For letting me join you guys.”

“That wasn’t my choice,” Nam-gyu clarifies. He leers at you with a smile. “But it's no problem anyways. Someone like yourself shouldn’t be alone for this stuff.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t really belong here.” Your brows furrow in confusion. He gestures with his hands, conducting an orchestra of concepts only he can see in his mind. “You didn’t gamble your money away or anything, you just…went to college.”

“Debt is debt.” You shrug. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I dunno. It just feels wrong.”

“Wrong? That’s kind of ironic coming from you.”

Nam-gyu finally swings his legs up onto the bed, straddling the twin-sized mattress. His face is woven with the remnants of shame.

“How is it ironic?”

“You’re friends with a man who pushed an entire row of people to their death.”

“Well, that’s different.” Nam-gyu rubs circles into his arm, feeling along a scar he bore upon his tattoo. You’ve never noticed either of them.

“How?”

“Him being my friend doesn’t mean shit.”

“You know what they say. Friends are two of a kind.”

“I don't know if I’d consider him my friend.”

“Then why do you follow him around like a dog?”

Nam-gyu stares at you like he can’t believe what you just said. You return his gaze, unwavering, and shake your head slightly, beckoning an answer.

He doesn’t have one. He lowers his head.

“Whatever.” And with that he pushes himself off your bed and tumbles into his own. Gaze lingering on his back, you mumble a goodnight.

That night you feel particularly lonely, even surrounded by hundreds of people.

Nam-gyu was right–the next day, the game takes all your energy, and by the end you're almost keeling over from hunger.

A six-legged pentathlon, they called it. 5 people, all linked together, complete tasks one by one. Simple enough, but there was one small problem: you were not familiar with any of the games, nor good at them, and you were struggling to keep your eyes open.

You did not, in fact, tell this to Nam-gyu, or the others. They would definitely leave you to find another team, one you'd be better suited to lose on, so you would have to bite the bullet and pretend there was a game you were good at.

Your wonderful team, composed of you, Nam-gyu, Thanos, another girl with a lip-ring, and a meek boy with even softer eyes, are next up. The girl and the boy, who’s names you’d learned were Se-mi and Min-su, were already paired together before Thanos recruited them.

“He’s totally head over heels for her,” you had drawled as Thanos put on a show to persuade them onto his side. Nam-gyu laughs quietly at your remark, and leans in to respond.

“You think? They’re probably already a thing.” He crosses his arms when the two merge into your group of 3, clearing his throat and glaring sharply at Min-sut.

Announcements begin. One by one, teams make their way across the track, all the while the crowd cheers them. It’s the one time every player has been united–everyone is hoping to skirt by without witnessing more deaths. Excitement is at an all time high, and even that hardass 456 cracks a smile and shouts in victory when a group makes it across successfully.

However, the inevitable is, well, inevitable, and some groups don’t even make it halfway through the games. It’s almost comical, the way the atmosphere completely pauses and does a 180 when trucks carrying caskets rumble in to clean up for the next group. Maybe you were in a movie right now. A black comedy, you think bitterly.

You and the others were told by Thanos to pick whatever game you wanted, but again, you didn’t know how to play ddakji, or gonggi, or whatever other games they had announced. So, in a panic, you choose the spinning top game, paengi doligi, because at the very least you know how to spin a top.

You weren’t prepared when they brought out a top with a string. Who the hell spins a top off a string? Sure, you had seen everyone else do it, but you didn’t know exactly how to get it going.

You wind the string around the top, just like the others did. Your clammy hands only make it worse, and it takes you nearly 15 seconds just to prepare the top, only because you’re both half-asleep and scared out of your goddamn mind.

“Let’s fucking go, hurry!” You jolt upright with a gasp. Thanos is practically screaming in your ear with exhilaration and a big fat smile on his face. You cower, almost dropping the spinning top held in your sweaty, shaking palms. Then you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders, reassuring, tender, and a voice whispering to your left.

“Don’t listen to him,” Nam-gyu murmurs, breath hot on your ear, “Relax. Take it slow.”

With him right next to you, you can’t help but start to replay the events of the night before. Overthinking was always your strong suit, and you’re only brought back to reality once the timer’s beeping becomes louder, and so does Thanos growling ‘what the fuck are you doing!’.

Gripping the string, you adjust over and over until you have no more excuses–with a half assed ‘fuck!’ the top shoots out from between your hands.

It lands perfectly on the ground, spinning, and you feel bile rising up in your throat. You can’t even cheer with your team when the guard holds their hands up, so you let them drag you along, all the while you’re gagging and holding your mouth.

The last game is jegi, and, surprisingly, Thanos passes with flying colors. He throws his hands up as he hits the shuttlecock-like object for the 5th time. The crowd roars, and finally, you allow yourself to keel over and spew all over the ground. There’s a hand on your back, and someone is holding your hair out of your face.

“Fuck, are you getting sick or something?” Nam-gyu is beaming for some reason, and his arm is slung over your shoulder. You glare deeply into his eyes. His pupils are huge. “I told you to eat.”

You shake your head, hobbling along with the group.

“Better not be,” Thanos walks in with his pompous gait, “We’re gonna win, bro.” He curves his hands over his head in an ‘o’ shape.

Your group settles in their usual corner. Nam-gyu doesn’t come to sit with you like he normally does, and chooses to sit with Thanos and fuck around instead. They’re laughing loudly, and while noisy behavior is the norm for Thanos, seeing Nam-gyu like this is a spectacle.

The guards wheel in carts with food. Your mouth is watering–it looks like plain bread with a tiny carton of milk, but your stomach would just about take anything right now, especially after emptying whatever remnants of food were left in it. As you sit with your milk and bread, you feel even more alone than you did last night. Surrounded by so many people and yet you’re still alone. This somehow happens a lot, even outside the games. College wasn’t exactly your social awakening. Even the one person you trusted, at least somewhat, wasn’t with you.

Until he was. Your head snaps up at him, arms up against the frame above you, head lowered into the shadow of your dugout.

He doesn’t say anything, just reaches into his pocket and tosses milk and bread onto your lap. Your eyes are wide. Your heart soars. Quickly you make room for him, which he occupies with a bounce of the mattress.

“Sorry about what I said yesterday,” you mumble, mouth full of bread and milk. You’re already ripping open the pack just gifted to you, eyes occasionally flicking up to meet his own. “Didn’t mean it.”

Nam-gyu stares at you, like you couldn’t possibly be apologizing to him.

“Ah, it’s fine,” he says with uncertainty. His hand twirls the hair at the base of his neck, which he drops in an admission of indifference. “I don’t care.”

He watches you eat, stuff your face with every last crumb you can grasp and every last drop you can shake out of the carton, then laughs.

“I think you’ve got it all.”

You nod and swallow painfully. “I think.” You set the cartons and plastic on the floor next to your bed.

Later that night he’s back in his usual spot. Your head doesn’t feel light anymore, nor was your stomach damn near about to start cannibalizing itself. You were content, with good company at your side and food in your belly, things weren’t so bad. Except the topic of conversation, maybe, with how Nam-gyu was trying to steer you off course.

“I saw you take something from Thanos,” you begin cautiously. “What was it?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Nam-gyu, what was it?”

Nam-gyu, who’s moved to lay sideways opposite from you, holds a hand up to his nose.

“Just a fuckin’ upper,” he grumbles. “Just to get us through that. Shit, you should’ve been the one to take one, with how-”

“Do you need to take them?” You scoff, eyebrows creasing in dismay. “That stuff’ll kill you.”

“I’ve been doing it for years. Nothing’s gonna happen. Plus you said that stuff doesn’t scare you.”

“Okay, I get that. But what if something does happen?” You sigh. He’s taken off his jacket, revealing the cherry red scars right over his veins. “All of this-” Your hands motion to the lines littering his arm from pumping himself full of drugs- ”will definitely kill you. ”

“And?”

“And I want you alive when we get out of here. Not in a casket.”

He hums.

“What are we gonna do after all this?” He says, and you see a blooming spark of hope in his eyes.

“With that much money maybe we can gamble it all away,” you joke. Your wandering eyes set themselves back on him. “Or maybe we can settle down somewhere. With a cat. Or a dog. Whatever you like.”

Nam-gyu raises his eyebrows at you. Almost as if he’s testing you–whether you’re serious, or whether he’s getting played like the idiot he is.

“You mean that?”

You nod. He bites his lip, contemplating something you can’t quite make out.

“I’ve never been one to ‘settle down’ before,” he confesses. “Always been one night stands and stuff.”

“Maybe this is a good time for you to try it,” you say hopefully. You can’t quite stab the words head on and end up dodging the topic more and more–yet somehow, your point is still getting across, albeit slowly. “Maybe you can get clean, fix yourself up.”

His hand reaches out for you, and you lean into it when he buries it in your hair. You crawl closer, leaning over him with your knees folded under you.

“I’d get clean for you,” he says. “I’d do a lot of things for you, you know.”

Your heart is pounding so fast, but you don’t have the guts to say anything. Rather, you pull his hand down from your hair to rest comfortably on your chest, just above your breast. Your fingers migrate up his arm, travelling up to his elbow, which you grip viciously.

“Is this what Thanos meant,” you giggle nervously, “When he said you were sweet on me?”

“Same could be said about you,” he rumbles, fingers gently digging into your sweater, into the patch that bears your number. 421 is what the guards have reduced you to, and probably everyone else in this room.

His hand comes up behind your head, pulling you down just slightly.

“Can the same be said about you?”

You nod slowly, eyes transfixed on him. You feel like a teenager transitioning into the next stage of life, except you’re years past that and what’s blooming here might be a little more serious than an 8th grade crush.

Nonetheless you still tremble just as much as you did 10 years ago when you melt into his mouth. Suddenly the game didn’t matter anymore, nor did the cash. Who gives a shit if you die–as long as it’s with this grungy man who has you in his clutches at this very moment, who grips your form as he sits up so he can reverse your positions. Your hands jut out behind you for support, but he forces you back onto the mattress, your head hitting the pillow softly.

“If I got clean,” he mutters, pulling away, “Is this what my life would be instead?”

You nod, dazed. He nods with a hum, a smile slowly pulling at the sides of his face.

“I think I’ll stay here tonight,” he declares, trailing off as he awaits your answer. When he doesn’t get one he sits back, away from you. “Okay?”

Your head bobs. Nam-gyu pulls you back down with him. Just how had you ended up here? From cowering behind him while people die right at your feet to sleeping in the same bed. The whole pipeline just feels bizarre, yet you couldn’t care less–nothing mattered at this point anyways as long as he was there, as long as your clammy hands can grip his solid form whenever you’re on the verge of puking out of anxiety.

Thanos was gone. You’d found out after more player deaths were announced out of the blue, 230 among them. There was a fight in the bathroom between X’s and O’s, and that’s all you knew. The survivors of the brutal skirmish hobbled out, forks in hand, drenched in blood that was both theirs and someone else’s. Guards stood alert, guns poised in case anyone else wanted to try something. 5 casualities, you recalled. 5 less people you had to worry about.

You’d tried asking Nam-gyu about it. Sat him down, wrapped your arms around his shoulders and wiped the blood off his face with your sleeve. Asked him what happened, who started it, are you okay, but all you got back was him raising Thanos’ cross into your field of view.

“All of it’s mine now,” he boasts weakly, stuck in some sort of depressive delirium. He stares at the cross with hollow eyes. Like part of him had died right there with his purple-haired friend, who lay choking on his own blood and mucus on a dingy bathroom floor.

#squid game #nam gyu x reader #nam gyu #squid game x reader

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witchbitchlovesdilfs · 2 days ago

Note

you asked for richie ideas and I have multiple so

1) angsty, self sabotaging richie thinking he's not good enough for you so he keeps his distance but reader confronts him and reassure him

Don't Call Me Sweetheart

Richie Jerimovich x f!reader

thank you so much for this idea!

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, lots of language, suggestive content, minor season 4 spoilers

words: 1.2k

It all started with that damn teddybear.

Eva begged Richie, but the thing was too fucking expensive. Even you - who loved to spoil Eva despite the holes doing so dug into your wallet - agreed that he made a good choice not getting it.

And then fucking Frank had to go ahead and be the good guy.

Richie was livid. But, even more so, he was insecure. Eva’s reactions to him following those events made him question himself - not just as a father, but also as an employee, a boyfriend, and a man in general. Upon reflection, Richie came to a decision.

He’s just not good enough for you.

You were absolutely unaware of this sudden revelation, so when Richie came into work the next day and barely spared you a glance, you were taken aback. When he walked past during prep work, saying “behind” in that hot, raspy voice of his, his hand didn’t graze or grasp at your ass like it usually did. You nearly chopped your finger off in shock.

When you tried texting him later, he only responded with the thumbs up emoji or a simple one-worded answer. After a point, he stopped responding at all.

This continued for the next three days, and little did either of you know, but both parties weren’t faring well. Richie decided that you were better off without him, but he had yet to man up and break up with you. Not that he wanted to. Christ, he’d rather die. He missed the taste of your lips, your sweat, your pussy. He missed your laugh, now only heard in passing. He missed everything about you, and it was driving him mad.

You were facing a crossroads. Part of you wanted to let Richie play his little game, see how long until you could edge him back into your arms. The other part knew that something serious was up - something that had to do with more than just you. You knew that if you didn’t intervene and comfort the man, he would spiral - and perhaps have a breakdown in the walk-in just like Carmy had.

And nobody wants that to happen.

Another day, and Richie’s still avoiding you like the plague. A small voice in the back of your head tells you it’s all your fault, that you’re “too much”, too imperfect. You shrink into yourself as you get your utensils out beside Tina.

“Richie’s been really weird, hasn’t he?” she whispers.

You scoff. “You could say so.”

“I’d say he woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” she says, wiping a clever blade, “but at this point he might just need a new one.”

Your lip quirks, but then you look up and catch Richie’s eye. He’s been staring at you, and you know it, but you choose to ignore him.

You’re in your element as The Bear opens, firing off dish after dish during rush. Jess makes a comment that you’re “on fire” as you shout “hands” for what feels like the thousandth time.

When the last plate of the night is served, you let out a breath of relief. Helping with cleanup, you take some pots and start to walk over to the sinks when…

You nearly crash into Richie.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He throws his hands out to steady you, and you both freeze at the nickname. It feels foreign, almost out of place.

“Fuck it,” you mumble, practically tossing the pots down and grabbing Richie’s arm, roughly pulling him into the walk-in with you.

You pace for a minute, refusing to look at Richie, who’s staring right at you with those beautiful, crystal blue eyes of his. He looks frozen in place like a deer in headlights. Good.

“What the fuck?” you exclaim, hardly caring if anyone outside hears. You approach him and jab a finger at his chest. “You can’t just go no contact and suddenly call me pet names again.”

“I know,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“So what the fuck?!” you throw your hands up and continue to pace. “You stopped answering my texts. You hardly even acknowledge me anymore. You look at me like I’m the last person alive, and then you give me the cold shoulder.”

“I know,” he repeats, softly. “I’m sorry.”

You scoff. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Richie shakes his head with a sigh. “It’s not… it’s not that simple.”

“And why the fuck not?!”

“Because you don’t deserve me!” He roars it, but there’s a vulnerable softness behind his expression. He smacks the wall. “Because I’m not good enough.”

You freeze, taken aback. “Richie…” you try, softly.

“No,” he cuts you off, holding a hand out to hold you back, like he’s scared he’ll crumble if you take a single step closer. “I’m a fucking mess,” he chokes. “I’m a fuckup. I’m not good enough for Eva; I’m not good enough for The Bear; I’m not good enough for you.”

You take a step forward, and he doesn’t move to stop you. He’s practically trembling, biting on his lip to stop from letting out a choked sob. “Richie,” you say softly, “what’s this about?”

He smacks the wall again. “That fucking teddybear.”

You flinch in surprise. That is not where you expected this to go.

Richie continues. “Fucking Frank bought it for her behind my back. Made me the bad guy - cause maybe I am. And Eva will barely talk to me now, and I’m just fucking everything up-”

“Baby,” you breathe, finally breaking the gap between the two of you and raising your hands to cup his face. “Richie, baby, I need you to stop talking bad about yourself, okay? Just listen for a minute.”

His eyes are so wide they look like a puppy dog’s. A kicked puppy dog’s.

You cradle his cheeks. “Frank’s an asshole,” you say. “And he has no right to step in between you and your daughter and fight for favorites. Because he’s not gonna get it: the favorite position. You’re everything to Eva.” You pause with a flush. “You’re everything to me.”

Richie gulps. “Sweetheart…”

“I’m serious.” You apply just an ounce more pressure to prove your seriousness. “You’re far from a “fuckup”. You “wear suits now”, for Christ’s sake. Richie, you do everything you can for the people you care about; not buying a stupid bear isn’t going to change that. You work your ass off, and you love with your entire heart. I just wish you could see the love everyone has for you.”

Richie bites his lip, moving to grasp your hands with his own. “I fucking love you, you know that?”

You laugh. “Does this mean you’ll stop avoiding me?”

In your embrace, he can’t possibly go back to isolating himself from you. He slides his hands down your hips, squeezing you close. “I don’t plan on ever letting you go again.”

You smile. Then, with a raised brow, you peer at the door past him. “You think they heard everything?”

Richie laughs. “I think everybody in Chicago heard that, dollface.”

You blush. But Richie’s finally smiling, so it doesn’t really matter what people did or didn’t hear - not when you’re finally back in your lover’s arms.

#the bear #the bear x reader #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #ebon moss bachrach #hulu #comfort

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izumiphoenix · 11 hours ago

Text

Before the darkness took him

I've been thinking again (I do that a lot, huh - I start every second post like this) about Astarion's life before he was turned.

We don’t know much about it – maybe even less now than during Early Access. Back then, I’ve heard it was said he was a corrupt magistrate who was beaten to death after a ruling, or even that he was working for Cazador already. But now, in the final release, all we know is that he was a magistrate in Baldur’s Gate, and that he was attacked by the Gur, angry at one of his rulings. We don’t know what kind of man he was.

As I understand from the wonderful series of posts from @litsenn (a small promotion haha), Larian was worried his image was becoming too cruel and could scare away the players, so they decided to soften it.

So there’s not much we can say for sure – but would that stop me from wondering? Of course not.

As for the headcanon about what kind of magistrate Astarion was, I’ll just quote myself from my other post:

I imagine he was young, still figuring out who he was, watching the world around him and trying to find his place. He wasn't perfect, he made mistakes. Maybe he was careless, maybe selfish at times, but I don’t think he was cruel, not intentionally. He probably didn’t consider the consequences of his choices and decisions well. And he probably believed he had a whole life ahead. Not a saint, not evil - just human.

And what was Astarion doing in Baldur's Gate? Why did he live there?

It’s a huge, multicultural city – not surprising that an elf might live there, even though they usually keep to their own communities, away from others. Some elves do maintain contacts with humans and other races, especially the Moon Elves. And I am a strong supporter of the headcanon that Astarion is a Moon Elf, based on his hair color. I like to imagine him with blue eyes, maybe with little golden flecks inside. That’s why I love blue tones for him.

Moon Elves are often described as lighthearted, curious, and drawn to art and beauty. They seem to be more tolerant of other races, more outgoing and individualistic than most of their kin. (From Forgotten Realms wiki)

I think it sounds a lot like him. Or at least like the version of him that could’ve existed, if things had gone differently.

The Cazador's role also raises a lot of questions. Even in the game, your character may notice how convenient it was that he appeared exactly in the right place and at the right time, when Astarion was dying. It’s not hard to imagine that he already had his eyes on the young, charming elf and possibly led the Gur on him, whether Astarion was framed or became a scapegoat for a careless ruling.

Unfortunately, we have too many questions and close to no answers.

Something that bothers me is that while Astarion seems to remember some details about his previous life, he never mentions anyone left behind.

Yes, we know that many of his memories are missing after everything he had to go through. He doesn't even know who he used to be himself.

I've seen mentions that you don't always keep all your memories when turned. Another reason might be Astarion avoiding reverie, which helps you work through your memories, not to relive his dark days in the castle again (or maybe because vampires can’t enter it anymore?). Or maybe his mind has blocked out the past to protect himself.

But what struck me is how he never really mentions anyone left behind. Of course, we know that many of his memories are gone. He doesn't even know who he used to be. But when he says, "No one looked out for me, you're the only one," it hurts. Maybe he was only talking about his time as a vampire. But I can’t help but think… was there really no one before that, either? No one who missed him when he disappeared? Or did he bury those memories so deeply that all he’s ever known, all that’s left, is that twisted version of family he had in the vampire lair?

And why wasn't Astarion's family looking for him? To them, he would still have been a child – barely into adulthood by elven standards. Should they live in Baldur's Gate, in 200 years, surely they would find a trace of him that would lead to Cazador, one way or another.

So I imagine they didn’t. Maybe they lived somewhere far away.

One reason might be that Astarion was sent there as a student and then stayed working as a magistrate. Maybe as a cultural exchange, learning and gathering experience. Or maybe his family wanted to have some connections with human society, or wanted him to see the world.

Another possibility is that he left them – maybe as a rebellious teenager, going separate ways to live on his own. That would explain why there were never any mentions of them and why no one came after him.

Whatever the reason, it’s heartbreaking to think that he disappeared one night, and no one came looking. At least as far as we know.

Of course, Astarion was so young when he was turned. Maybe the centuries of slavery erased the short years of life he once had.

For two centuries, the only "family" he knew was Cazador and the other spawns – a place of cruelty, manipulation, and survival. And even among them, Astarion never formed real bonds.

To me, he always seemed emotionally distant from the others. Maybe because he couldn’t trust anyone. Maybe because Cazador wanted them to turn on each other, make sure his spawns wouldn’t unite. Or was it like in school or other forced social groups where one person is singled out (especially by a teacher or group leader), and others often follow just to stay safe? I wonder if it was like that for him. If he was seen as weak, and the others treated him accordingly – Leon calls him weak, and Petras is dismissive. And Astarion himself may not be blameless – we know how sharp his tongue can be – but it still feels like he kept himself guarded.

Of course, that place wasn’t made for connection or real bonds, but some of his siblings still seemed closer to one another. Astarion, though, always felt apart. As if he never wanted to belong.

And maybe he didn’t – why would he? That place was a nightmare. Wanting nothing to do with them might have been his way of holding on to something – his dignity, his self. But still, I can’t help wondering that maybe some of the others tried to make peace with their new life, to seek comfort in one another, to adjust. Astarion never seemed to. He struggled or refused to settle into what they were forced to become.

But then… the way Astarion responds to kindness. The way he softens when he feels safe. Even the way he never accepted the false family bonds like some of the other spawns did – it makes me hope that maybe he knew real warmth once. Maybe he was loved, and something inside him remembers. Or hopes for it. And if he didn’t… Then I’m even more glad he can have it now that he’s free and learning to heal. That he’s no longer in that darkness. And can build something genuine and real.

#don't take this too seriously #this is just me musing about Astarion's possible past #not even headcanons since we know too little #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion meta #njpt bg3

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