#someone please shoot me with a tranquilizer

[gaybabything]

Alright it's official may for me! I should not be awake right now cause I have school in 7 hours but I simply could NOT miss this opportunity!

[hoshigray]

Hey 🫶🏻 Can I request having sex with Sukuna when he is extremely jealous? Like reader is kinda popular and other guys always tryna flirt with her and shit (she is not interested ofc) So when Sukuna saw another man shooting his shot he needs to blow off steam by fucking you dumb 🤕 and he saying shit like “what a good little cocksucker, maybe I should record you and send this video to all those bastards, so they would know who’s dick you’re gagging on” 😭 I’m so sorry if this is too specific, feel free to ignore 😭

Love your works 🥰

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: ofc ofccc !! and ty for loving my stuff~

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; you and Sukuna are college seniors - rough sex - fingering (f! receiving) - impact play (spanking + pussy slaps) - oral (m! receiving) - dumbification - choking - backshots + legs-up positions - degradation (cocksucker, dumb bitch, slut, whore) - overstimulation - clitoral play (pinching and swiping) - pet names (dove, little girl, princess, woman) - possessive behavior (it's sukuna, duh) - use of a phone; sexual photography and videography - heavy depictions of a blowjob - mention of tears and spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

“—Khaahh, oohhh!! Sukuna, pleasee, it hurts—Ahhhnn...!”

“Who said you’re in any position to tell me how to handle you, woman?… Fucking shit, you’re tight as hell…”

Everyone knows that you are off-limits. Knowledge of this fact is the bare minimum when dealing with the one known as “Sukuna’s girl” — no one should dare lay a finger or bat an eye on his woman. And yet, somehow, Sukuna continues to find strays that think this rule doesn’t apply to all. 

He saw it not too long ago today when a guy came your direction at the hall, concealing himself in the shadows to eavesdrop. The junior was dumb enough to invite you to some get-together, foolish enough to think he should even be speaking to the partner of the cold and intimidating Ryōmen Sukuna. 

You were the most popular girl in the class year — expected as Sukuna wouldn’t deal with someone who wasn’t [barely] on equal footing as him. However, unlike him, you carried a much kinder cadence. You greet others with sweet words, converse with professors in a mutual light, and engage with everyone with a compassionate and tranquil soul. — the complete opposite compared to your boyfriend. So, of course, it would be hard for you to turn away people when they come to you for guidance or opinions. 

In this case, you had expressed to the junior that you weren’t interested and had plans to study at your boyfriend’s apartment later. It wasn’t a complete lie, yet a respectful diversion that was expected of you and pleased Sukuna observing.

However, the dull-witted brat put his hand on your shoulder and continued to press on, emphasizing that you’d miss out on people wanting to have a good time with you. A ballsy thing to remark as if saying your boyfriend holds no priority over some boring party. Besides, the man had to stop the itch of coming out of the shadows to strangle the kid for laying his hands on you.

Nonetheless, you gracefully pushed his hand aside and apologized again for declining his offer before heading on your way. The situation was disentangled, both parties carrying on with their days. But that wasn’t enough to calm the salmon-haired man. 

Especially when you were in his apartment, protected under his gaze the entire time; you were sitting across from him at the coffee table while sorting through your coursework, unaware of the fixed look of his red eyes on your frame. Because all he could do was look at you, replaying the interaction from earlier today. 

It all angered him deeply — how the junior said your name so casually, the laughs you shared with him, and the touch on your shoulder. Everything from that moment added fuel to the fire scorching in his gut. He couldn’t relax, knowing there were still imbeciles who had the gall to act so familiar with you, his princess. 

The twitch of his brow couldn’t cease, same with the bounce of his knee – his nerves having an inner battle of maintaining a low profile. And being the caring piece in this relationship, you noticed. You blinked up to where he sat, “Is everything okay?” 

Of course not, woman. As much as he wants to put all the blame on the guy, Sukuna felt that you also played a part in this charade. To him, you were just as worse as that fucker. How could you, his precious dove, allow such trash to be so close to you? Allowing that thing to touch you was such an insult to him, downright disrespectful to the man you call your boyfriend. And the fact that you didn’t think of telling him — believing that you could keep this as a small matter insignificant to his awareness — left a sour taste in his mouth.

In his philosophy, Sukuna knew you were in the wrong as well. And for that, you would also have to be dealt with by him, to be reminded of your place in all this.

“Ohoooo! Ooof!! ‘kunaaaa, your fingersss…! Too fast, please slow—Daaahhh!!”

He’d smack your wet cunt, forcing you to grip his satin sheets. You’d instantly try to close your legs, but Sukuna wasn’t having any of that, quick to pinch the skin of your inner thigh to correct you. 

“Dumb bitch,” he throws insults, void of caring that you were on the brink of tears. He brings a hand to your throat, resulting in you gagging from your circulation being cut off. “I told you to keep those legs open. First, you let some fucker touch you, and now you can’t obey me when necessary? Do you enjoy disrespecting me like this?”

“Ahck! I–hic–I’m sorryyy,” he could feel you clench on his fingers, gripping them as if you refused to let them go.

It humored Sukuna, who effortlessly removed his digits to give your slit another harsh slap that made you gasp for air. An action proved difficult with his whole right hand constricting your airways. “Are you? How can you be sorry when you’re latching onto my fingers like a slut?” His hold on your neck goes tighter; your hands claw at his forearm, a desperate plea that doesn’t sway him. “Say it like you mean it, Y/n.”

“Khh..Ahh—Please, forgive me, Sukuna…!” Your apology came through wheezes, tears now welling up to fall on your pretty face, yet you knew it wasn’t enough. “I should have…Never let that junior tou—Mmmph! …Touch me… I’m your princess, only yours.”

A pink brow is lifted, but his expression remains unchanged. With one last slap to your leaking chasm, Sukuna lets go of your throat for you to cough and gasp as much air as you can. While you do that, he removes his turtleneck and unbuttons his dark jeans, bringing his briefs down to spring his erection out before lying back onto the pillows against the bed headboard. “Prove it then,” his voice has you turn to listen. “Suck me off the way I like it.” 

You are in no position to resent him, crawling towards him on all fours and immediately going to work. Your tongue greets his reddish-pink glans with swirls, licking his frenulum and nibbling on the skin before taking the head to your mouth. You lather his cock with your spit as you bob your head, hallowing your cheeks to take in every inch while your hand glides up and down his shaft. 

“Nnmph, fuck,” Sukuna groans at the feeling of your feverish sucks of his cockhead, your hand stroking him while you tend to him with your mouth feels too good. He peers down to watch you suck hard on his tip, and you return his gaze with a hooded look while sucking on his balls, causing him to hum. You then bring the tip back into your lips, making raunchy noises as you take his girth and lick his precum. 

“Heh, what a nasty little girl,” he comments after you exude a trail of spit onto his dick before hurriedly slurping him back inside your warm mouth. “I outta take a picture of you…No, a video is better.” He’s pleased to see your watery eyes twinkle with dread when he pulls out his phone from his jean pocket. He slides to open the camera application, “Maybe I should show that fool how such a good cocksucker you are for me.”

“S–Sukuna, please, anything but—Mmmm!” Again, no one said you were in a position to speak out of turn. Hence why, your boyfriend grabs your cheeks roughly with a single hand. Crimson eyes pierce through your fragile skin, and your figure fills with fright within milliseconds. 

“What did I say about giving me orders?” His tone is enough to send shivers down your spine, his nails denting your cheeks. “Does my woman want me to expose them for the filthy whore they are? Cause I couldn’t care less if I one day start leaking these shits and have your reputation crumble in seconds as a lesson.”

A tiny bit of you wants to believe he wasn’t serious; however, the single tear shed from your unblinking eyes tells a different conscience. You reply with a shaky breath and a quivering lip. “No, Sukuna...Please forgive me.”

He releases your chin with a push of the thumb. “Then get back to it, dove.” The sweetness of that pet name wasn’t present as he smacked your cheek with his length. You listen to him, taking him back into your throat with a euphoric mewl while cupping and kneading his balls. He sneers and presses the record button, “Just like that, princess.”

And don’t think that it ends there — because it doesn’t. 

“Ahhhnn! Oooooh, my God, ‘Kuna..’kunaaaa, I can’t—Ahahnn!”

“—Nngh, that’s right, Y/n; scream for me…Fuck, this tight ass pussy…”

Sukuna now has your face down ass up, pinning you to the satin mattress by the shoulders and hammering his bare cock right into your messy cunt. Your cries are muffled by the sheets you bite into, tears streaming down hot cheeks as your boyfriend plows himself deep side your core. The commotion coming between your sexes fills his bedroom outside of the squeals that bounce against the walls.

Your figure jolts with every thrust, Sukuna’s pelvis smacking on your ass that stings with hot skin after taking onslaughts of slaps from his hands. Your clitoris, exhausted from the constant tweaks and pinches, rests with the cool air treating the sore button. Sweat is covered all over your nude body, evidence that you and your boyfriend have been going about this for a long while, and of course, you’re getting a bit fatigued and overly sensitive to his every touch. But you know he doesn’t care; this is all for your punishment.

Sukuna throws your butt another smack, having your vaginal walls instinctively contract around his girth. He hisses with a grin, “Damn, I love seein’ you like this.” His eyes trail down from your sweaty shoulders, following your spine and hips, down to your ass, where he sees the insertion of his dick being swallowed by you. Seeing the white, soapy ring shielded around his cock makes him bite his lip. “All sore and dirty for me…Mmmph, gripping on me like a slut, going dumb on my cock.”

His hips then propel erratically, having your howl with eyes shooting up. You were too far gone to think of proper thought, with your brain churned into mush and your head pounding nonstop. The heat on your face is just as unbearable as the throbbing sensation down south. Your trembling legs try so hard not to give in and slump, yet you can’t lie; you’re tired, sore, and sticky all over. 

“Nmaahh! OhhhJesussss, ‘kuna, pleaseeee, lemme cummm—Mmaahh!” Another smash to your ass, followed by a pinch to your clitoris to juxtapose with the slow strokes he uses to massage the delicate spots of your walls.

“Why do you think I should let you cum, woman?” He swipes on your clit, listening intently to the whines that climb higher with the brush of his finger. 

Your words come out in slurs, yet you must answer to him. “I’m shorryy, I didn’t mean to—oh, fuck…do you wrong. Yer the only man who can touch me, wound me,” You peer over your shoulder to see Sukuna, an action that has him release your clit and hear what you have to say. “And love me…just as I love you, and only you. No one else can have me like you…Hahhh, I’m yours, both in mind and body…” Salmon brows furrow as you continue. “I love only you and want only you to touch me, ‘Kuna..Please forgive me, I won’t do it again…”

He was already sold once you turned to look at him, you little minx. Your watery eyes suddenly struck his heart — you are the only thing in the world that could do that, his little dove. He can tell by your heaves and pants that you wish to rest, that you had enough of his lesson and want to be in his embrace. 

However, no unpleasant deed shouldn’t go unpunished. Within a second, Sukuna has you flipped on your back with your legs brought up to his left shoulder. He brings out his phone once again, swiping to put on the camera after inserting his length back inside you.  “Hey, princess,” he calls to you. “Why don’t you say hello to the camera for me? Want something to look back to.”

You gulp with a dry throat, sheepishly smiling at the camera phone. “Hello, I’m Y/n—Ooohh!!” He surprises you with more ruts to your chasm, clamping onto him as if your life depended on it. 

“Who do you belong to, Y/n?” He calls out to you with a steady breath, as if his pelvis wasn’t poisoning deep to grind your insides to evoke pretty moans to escape puffy lips. 

“Hahaaa!! I—Hnnph..I belong to Sukuna Ryō–hic…men…”

“Who does this pussy belong to, Y/n?” Ruts become harsher with every word.

“—Mmoohhh, fuuuhuck, it’s yours, only yoursss,” you voluntarily take up your legs and hold them from behind your knees, bringing them to your chest. “Me and this pussy belong to only Sukuna, no one else can touch me…!”

Sukuna pans the phone down to the union of his dick, moving to and fro from your slit. The white essence painting both sexes was making an erotic mess, strings of his come covering his girth with every push and pull. He chuckles to himself. “This right here is all mine, ya hear?” He looks at you to see you nod your head hurriedly. “Don’t you ever forget that, understand?” You nod again, clenching around him when he drops the phone and leans towards you to place his hands on yours.

It’s here that he finally finishes with you, pounding his hips into you as hard as he can. Your voice gets higher and higher, your headache getting intense with the ruts on your cunt. And with how he stretches and grazes your walls? Jesus, it was terrible to control yourself, your orgasm increasing by the second. “I wanna cumm, ‘kunaaa, let me cum on you, pleaseee….!!”

“Heh, desperate to tighten some more for me, huh.” He adds more weight onto you, forcing you to submit to him. You shudder under his bow, “You may now cum, dove.” 

As if on command, you let yourself loose and allow the climax to finally be free, wailing during yet another crescendo as your vagina flutters around him for the fourth time that night. And Sukuna relishes the feeling of you tightening on him, doing excruciating slow strokes to enjoy the moment. 

“Hmmm, that’s it, just like that…Remember this, princess,” He bends down to lick the tears on your cheeks before kissing them. “Know your place.” He then brings the phone back up to close this session.

“Now smile for me.”

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are wholeheartedly appreciated ☆ header edit done by me, dividers by @/benkeibear.

[jen-with-a-pen]

𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦

summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

word count: 6.5K

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is. 

Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter–  to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day. 

You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.

When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.

Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.

After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.

You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week. 

With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.  

Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together. 

Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”

The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival. 

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’ 

“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door. 

“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.

You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.

Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger. 

“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.

It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder. 

The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit. 

“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.

“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip. 

Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing. 

“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.

You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.  

“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.

Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”

“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink. 

Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it. 

You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time. 

You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell. 

Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.

The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.

“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear. 

“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”

White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.

He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.

“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.

His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.

You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below. 

With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.

“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape. 

“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”

He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully. 

“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.

“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.

“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”

He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium. 

There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form. 

Your face burned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.” 

He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.

♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.

You swallowed a groan. 

“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”

“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”

“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”

Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours. 

“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.” 

You wanted to take his finger and break it.  

You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.

You doubted it was convincing.

“Fine.” 

He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion. 

When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.

“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

“When the hell did you–”

“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.

“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance. 

He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.

The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles. 

“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.

Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.

It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike. 

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”

“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. 

Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–

“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously. 

“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side. 

“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.

“Because there’s only one fucking bed?” 

“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.

You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”

His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward. 

You swallowed. “You heard me.”

One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard. 

Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body. 

“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.

“Look at me!” 

“No! Fuck– Get off me!” 

With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.

You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.

“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.” 

His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”

You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone. 

“Is that all, Sergeant?” 

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.

“You heard me.” 

The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged. 

“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.

“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”

Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.

“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you. 

And you let him.

“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.

“Holy–fuck, holy shit.” 

Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why. 

He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame. 

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your heart stopped.

“You’re telling me.”

Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door. 

Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy. 

Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.

Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however. 

He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?” 

You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”

“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.

“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release. 

“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.

“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”

He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”

“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”

“Number fuckin’ one.”

The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core. 

Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.

“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.

He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs. 

“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass. 

SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”

SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”

SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.” 

Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him. 

“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure. 

“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you. 

“Fuck! Again! Please, again!” 

He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you. 

“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode. 

“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”

“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.

For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile. 

“Thanks.”

He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”

You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”

“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.

“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”

“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

HIII YOU DID SO WELL WITH THE X-2 KURT I feel like you really captured him welll,Can you do another one where reader was apart of the brotherhood but magneto and mystique left reader so she stayed with the x-men and she’s still adapting and when she meets Kurt she grows fond of him since she used to be religious and starts to get feelings for him please! (If you can’t write the religious part it’s totally fine too!)

~You Gotta Have Faith~

Pairing: Nightcrawler x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: you read the ask (hopefully) the story is about religion and having a complicated relationship about it, proceed at your own desire

Genre: fluff pretty much

Summary: You can't be the best choice for a first mission with someone you couldn't feel more opposite of

A/N: HIIII SO GLAD YOU LIKED THAT STORY I hope you what I came up with for this one :)

***

The frantic knocking at your door puts you on high alert when you hear it from your room. You creep up to the door, watching the shadows move across your kitchen as the sun inches into the sky.

"Professor!" A voice whisper shouts through the door, knocking harder.

Professor? You quickly check your peephole and gasp when you realize it's students from the school. You swing open your door to find at least 10 students clutching their arms.

"What are you doing here? Where is your guardian?" You ask.

"Me." Peter points to himself.

"You're a student. What adult is responsible for you?"

"Well- you."

"Me? How did you even know where to find me!?" You frown.

"The manor was attacked." He says.

That's not an- oh whatever.

"Wha-" You tilt your head up and mouth a 'fuck me-' "Alright, get in here before someone sees y'all and starts asking questions." You rush all of them into the house and lock your door.

"Sweetie take the little ones downstairs. There's plenty of blankets in the closet down there." You address one of the older boys in the group, maybe like 14.

"You metal man are staying up here to explain what the heck is going on." You point to Peter and gesture for him to follow you into the kitchen.

"The manor was attacked." He says sitting at your kitchen's island on one of your stools.

"You said that. What do you mean? Who attacked the manor?"

"I don't know- they were guys in military tactical gear- they came in the middle of the night and started shooting us with these. I think they're tranquilizers." Peter drops a dart onto the counter.

"And you got all these kids out?" You ask. Peter nods.

"Logan stayed to fight them off, give us a headstart."

"Logan?! But where was Storm? Or Jean, or Scott, or Charles? Where were your professors?!"

"I don't know for sure. Some mission things. They left Logan in charge."

"And the school was attacked by an army? What happened to Logan? Or the rest of the kids?"

"Logan was fighting them off. He insisted I get as many kids out as possible. He- gave me your address. Told me to bring us here. Bobby and Rogue and John stayed behind. The guys in combat gear rounded up a lot of us before Logan or I could stop them."

"Let's find everyone." You hum walking over to the wall on your left. You tap out a pattern against one of the wall panels which pops open a retina scanner which triggers a finger print and once all of that is complete the wall flips open to reveal several devices.

"Woah- what is all this stuff?"

"Expensive. Don't touch any of it." You say.

"What does it do?"

"It connects to the xmen comms system." You say.

"And you just have this in your house?" He gasps.

"No."

"No?"

"This system exists outside of time and space. I can just summon it whenever I want." You shrug.

"What kind of mutant are you?" Peter asks.

"A transmogrifier." You frown as you see most devices are offline. There's two active though, Scott in Boston? And a jet. You think.

"A- what?"

"Shapeshifter." You mutter.

"Oh like the blue lady?"

"No not like- wait how do you know about Mystique?" You stop what you're doing to look at him.

"I- should I not?"

"Well it's not like she's visiting the mansion." You scoff.

"I overheard the professors talking about her. They were going to try tracking her down but weren't sure they'd be able to because of the whole-"

"Changing into other people thing yeah I'm familiar." You say. "Mystique can turn into other people. I can turn into anything. Real." You turn into a fox for a moment. "Or imaginary." You turn into a unicorn. "If I can envision it, I can turn into it." You explain.

You finally manage to get through to the jet comms system.

"Hello?" You say.

"Y/n?"

"Storm??" You frown.

"Yes." She says.

"Aren't you out of office this week?" Another voice chimes in, surprising you.

"Jean?" You blink.

"Yes."

"Where have y'all been?! Actually, hang on. Peter, can you join the kids downstairs please hon?" It's probably best he's not present for this conversation.

"No way. I wanna help." Peter says. You sigh and mute yourself so Jean and Storm can't hear you.

"You can help by doing what I'm asking you to do." You say.

"But I should be part of this-"

"Peter, we have no idea who attacked the mansion, or why, or how far they are willing to go for whatever they're after. Right now those kids just have us and the oldest person down there is 14. I'd feel better if you were with them while I handled this."

"Why can't I hear this?" He asks.

"I know you're older but you are still a student and therefore there are some things you aren't privy to. I'll give you the gist when we're done because I might have to leave you in charge but consider this a faculty meeting. No students allowed." You say. Peter reluctantly exists the kitchen and you return your attention back to your call.

"Sorry, hi." You huff.

"What was that?" Jean asks.

"Peter."

"Who?" Storm asks.

"Peter R."

"Why is Peter R. at your house?" Storm asks.

"Do you have any idea what's going on right now!?" You shake your head.

"No. We can't get Scott, we can't get Charles, Logan's giving no information-"

"Scott's in Boston." You cut Jean off.

"Logan's in Boston." Storm corrects you.

"Logan's in Boston?! Where's Scott?" You frown.

"He was supposed to be with Charles visiting Magneto and we can't get them." Storm sighs.

"Visiting Magneto!? What the hell for?" You blink in shock.

"We're not sure-"

"Well where are yall?" You ask.

"Headed to get Logan. He said they're in trouble but he won't explain." Storm says.

"The Mansion got attacked." You say.

"What!?" They gasp.

"How do you know that?!" Jean asks.

"I've got at least a dozen kids in my house as a result of it." You say.

"A dozen? Where are the others?!" She asks.

"Deities only know!" You sigh.

"Well who the hell-"

"No idea. Peter says they were like military or something. Storm, things are bad."

"We'll be fine. There's not a thing in this galaxy we aren't able to handle. You know this, you know us." Storm says.

"I don't like that we're so scattered. We weren't prepared for this-"

"We never are. But we don't back down." Jean says.

"Holy shi-"

"What the-"

"Can one of you finish a sentence?" You ask.

"We just got to Logan." Storm says.

"Is he okay!?" Your eyes widen.

"They- seem to have picked a fight with some cops." She says.

"Logan?" You raise a brow, Logan's not a fight picker.

"He's got Rogue and Bobby and that John kid with him." Jean says.

"Let's get outta here." You hear Logan grunt.

"Logan!" You say.

"Y/n? Did that metal kid make it to you?" He asks.

"Oh he did. Him and a handful of others."

"Thank fuck." He sighs.

"Y/n we- need to go." Jean says.

"We're being shot at! We'll touch base when we're safe!" Storm tells you and disconnects.

"This is fucking insane." You sigh.

It's a while before you hear from them again. It's then that you learned about Striker and Magneto getting involved, and the new mutant. With the kids at your place and Magneto being directly involved with their save the day plan, you decide you're better off staying home. You're not sure you're quite ready to face Magneto and Mystique in an amiable way. It's a stressful couple of days waiting for an update of any kind. And it's even more stressful couple of months trying to readjust afterwards.

Repairs on the mansion are plentiful and extensive. Several students end up displaced as their rooms were destroyed but you and the others do your best to make this easier for them.

And of course there's the new mutant. Logan and Storm told you his name is Kurt Wagner, former circus performer, teletransporter and according to Logan 'total weirdo'. You haven't really spoken to him but you've seen him slinking around the manor.

As you're walking down the hall you vaguely, just barely, hear the very quiet sound of someone breathing- above you? You tilt your head up and there's Kurt, walking down the hall but on the ceiling.

"Yo Cirque du Soleil!" You call up at him.

"Me?" He bends his neck backwards to look at you upside down.

"You were in a circus weren't you?" You ask.

"Yes!"

"Well then yeah, you. Why are you on the ceiling?"

"I feel I'm better off moving around the academy this way." He says. You give yourself a set of wings and fly up to the ceiling to be face to face with him.

"Better off up here than walking like the rest of us?" You ask.

"I think I freak out some of the kids." He admits.

"What?"

"They stare at me."

"Of course they do. You're the new guy. Scott shoots lasers out of his eyes, Logan has claws in his knuckles, one of these kids turns fully metal, another's a popsicle, one kid can't touch anyone without risking their life. Trust me, it's not because you freak them out. This isn't the kind of place where you'll be judged harshly for something so trivial." You say.

"Easy for you to say. You look normal. All of them can look normal."

"Looks are deceiving."

"Not mine." He shakes his head.

"No? Well I happen to like the way you look." You shrug.

"What?" His eyes widen in surprise.

"I think it's cool. You were born this way so as far as I'm concerned it is normal. Plus who wants to be normal when you can be awesome? Or gifted as Charles calls the kids."

"You think it's cool?" Kurt seems skeptical.

"Well yeah. Do you not?"

"I-"

"Professor y/n?!" You look over your shoulder and down at the sound of your name being called.

"Oh, hey Margot." You say to one of the students.

"Why are you up there?" She asks.

"Talking to Mr. Wagner." You say.

"Who?"

"Walk like- 2 feet forward for me." You tell her. She walks forward and looks up again, Kurt now in her line of sight. He flashes an awkward smile at her.

"Who are you?" She says.

"That's Mr. Wagner." You say.

"Oh. Well hi." She waves at him.

"Hello." Kurt says.

"Why are you on the ceiling?"

"Just- hanging around." Kurt says.

"You two are weird." Margot says.

"Weren't you going somewhere Margot?" You roll your eyes.

"Just to get lunch." She shrugs.

"You go do that then."

"Okay, fine." She continues down the hall.

"Kurt, come down with me. You live here now, you have no reason to hide. Especially not the acne covered gremlins roaming the halls."

"Should you be speaking of students like that?" Kurt asks, eyebrows squeezing together.

"When trying to convice the new guy to stop crawling on the ceiling I think I'll give myself a pass this time." You shrug, holding a hand out to Kurt. He hesitantly takes it and you fly him off the ceiling.

"There. Isn't that better?" You smile.

"I- I feel exposed."

"This is your home. Treat it as such. And don't let anyone convince you otherwise." You offer.

"Thank you." He smiles, it's shy and small, barely showing his sharp teeth.

"Don't mention it. See ya around." You say walking away from him. You're barely down the hall when an arm reaches out and pulls you into one of the offices.

"What was that?" Logan crosses his arms.

"What was what?" You frown.

"You and Mr. Circus. You would barely speak to me when you first got here why are you already best friends with the new guy?"

"You're exaggerating. All I did was try to get him off the ceiling." You roll your eyes.

"Really? 'This is your home, don't let anyone convince you otherwise'?" Logan repeats your words to you.

"An objective fact and a piece of advice nosy." You scoff.

"It is probably the first nice thing you've done for someone that wasn't a student here. You know I have to investigate."

"You don't. You're just annoying. Don't you have another soul searching mission or something you can go on?"

"Trying to get rid of me dear? And here I thought we were friends." He shakes his head.

"I'm so sorry you had that impression. I'll try not to confuse you in the future."

"Harsh."

I'm gonna go now." You tell him and walk away.

You and Logan have an interesting relationship. You speak to him more than you do the others, but it's usually some form of bickering back and forth. Not in any sort of serious way, the others joke that you two are frenemies. You're still not sure why Logan is always extending an olive branch considering he's not even one of the chatty ones here but you recogonize the effort, and while you'll never tell him this you appreciate that he makes it clear you've got him in your corner.

~

You hear a knock on your office door and don't even turn your head away from your laptop as you address whoever is on the other side.

"Come in!" You call.

"It's Charles." He tells you before opening the door.

"What's up?" You ask.

"I wanted to talk to you about our new X-man."

"Kurt?" You frown.

"Mr. Wagner seems to have- taken a liking to you." Charles says with a nod.

"We've had like 2 conversations." You scoff.

"Even so. He seems most open to you."

"What's your point?"

"I'm sending you on a mission, and you'll be taking him with you."

"Get fucked. I'm not babysitting the new guy." You scoff.

"Don't be ridiculous he's an adult he doesn't need a babysitter." Charles shakes his head.

"So why are you sending us on this mission together like a pair of siblings being forced to include each other in our plans?" You ask.

"Do you see Kurt like a sibling?"

"That's not the point but no. This just feels like when my friends parents would insist they bring along their little brothers or sisters when we had plans."

"It's Kurt's first mission. I'd like him to go with someone he's comfortable with. To make it easier for him."

"You didn't do that for my first mission." You scoff.

"Yes I did. I sent Logan on that mission with you."

"I was not comfortable with Logan!"

"You weren't comfortable with anyone. Logan just seemed to have an afinity for you, I saw potential for a friendship between you both so I went off of that. You can grumble all you want but you're going. Here's your file. Kurt will receive one as well. You leave tomorrow." Charles places a file folder on your desk.

"Are we taking the jet?" You ask.

"No."

"Why not?"

"You're not going that far. Besides, Scott needs it." 

"Fine. I'll take one of his cars then." You say.

"He's not going to like that." Charles hums.

"Oh I know, that's the fun part." You shrug.

"You and Logan really are cut from the same cloth." Charles shakes his head and leaves your office.

"Don't say things like that Charles!" You call after him. He snorts and continues down the hall as you review the file he handed you. Looks like you'll be going on a mission. With the new guy. Great.

You toss your bag into the back seat, popping your gum as you slide into Scott's car. It's not like he's gonna be here to use it anyway.

"Do you get nervous before missions?" Kurt asks you as you start the car. You glance over at him for a moment and then put on your sunglasses as you pull out of the garage.

"No." You say.

"Oh." He says. After a couple of moments of silence you roll your eyes at your own inability to let it go.

"Are you nervous?" You ask him.

"A little bit. The circus is- very different from espionage."

"I'm sure you could apply those skills." You say.

"You really don't get nervous?"

"Nerves get you killed."

"That's bleak."

"That's what I was taught." You shrug.

"By the x-men?" He asks.

"Do they strike you as that type?"

"Well- no but I do not know anyone well."

"I was part of something else before this. They taught me nerves get you killed."

"And you still think that way?"

"Of course. It's never failed me." You shrug.

"That seems... grim."

"It works for me. Charles would probably have me tell you that it's perfectly normal to be nervous for your first mission and there's nothing to worry about. I'm gonna tell you that if at any point you freak during this mission stay out of the way and keep quiet." You tell him.

"It sounds like you expect me to do poorly."

"I don't expect anything but nerves get in the way. They make you freeze, I won't have you ruin this mission if you freeze."

"I won't freeze."

"Just covering my bases." You mutter. There's a long while where neither of you says anything but as you get closer to your destination you hear him quietly muttering.

"What're you doing?" You frown over at him.

"Praying." He says.

"Praying?" You almost can't believe your ears.

"Yes."

"Charles has one hell of a sense of humor." You snort.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing Kurt." You hum. From that point you try to focus on drying, but your mind keeps wandering to the strange newcomer sitting beside you. He spends most of the drive going over the mission file and mumbling things to himself. You don't think they're more prayers but who's to say really. You know you certainly weren't shy about how often you prayed before. You wouldn't put it passed Charles to assume you and Kurt would bond over the religion thing but it's a bit ridiculous if he did seeing as your relationship with faith isn't exactly- a positive one.

It takes you 2 days to get to the location Charles gave you. Mostly because you didn't want to drive 16 hours straight. You drive til sundown and once it's dark you find the nearest safehouse and spend the night there, where Kurt continues to pray incessently. He prays before bed, before eating, he even prayed before stepping foot into the safehouse.

For some reason, you're surprised every time he does it. It's like you keep forgetting he's religous because it's been so long since you've been around someone so devout in their faith. And you're not sure who Charles thought was going to get the most out of pairing the two of you up honestly, there are X-men who are much more indifferent to religion than you are who probably wouldn't be so jarred by it all.

Still, you're nothing if not professional, and no amount of personal trauma will impede your mission here.

When you arrive at the final destination you almost want to laugh. A catholic school. If this Charles' idea of a joke you might have to seriously reconsider your choice to join the X-men. At this point you're certain the egghead is putting you through some weird trials. You pop a piece of gum into your mouth and cut the engine.

"You wanna pray before we go in there?" You ask Kurt.

"What?" He blinks at you.

"You've prayed like a dozen times in the last two days." You shrug.

"Well yes but I thought you wouldn't-"

"I don't care. If it'll keep you from being nervous do it."

"Should we even be going into a place like this?" Kurt frowns.

"The school's been shut down for years." You scoff.

"It's still a house of the lord though, isn't it?"

"If His people aren't using it I don't think it counts. Besides, we shouldn't have to disturb any of it significantly anyway. We're just looking into a whatever energy Charles was picking up on." You shrug pushing open the car door. Kurt quickly mumbles the lord's prayer to himself and follows your lead, scrambling out of the car.

"You gonna chill out now Wagner?" You ask him.

"I will try." He nods.

"Good enough. Recite that lord's prayer again if it helps I guess. Just- in your head next time." You say walking towards the building. Kurt follows you inside and the two of you scan the building for anything that might have raised flags with Charles. Eventually you turn down a hall and hear a thud behind you. When you spin around and realize Kurt isn't there you whip back around the corner to find him dazed and darting through the hallway.

"Kurt!"

"Something- someone attacked me!" Kurt tells you. Ah, a mutant must've been hiding here. You feel a breeze blow by you and realize the mutant must be a speedster.

"Kurt wait don't-"

He catches the mutant before you can stop him, but you do intervene with a hand around his wrist when it seems like he's going to hit them. Pinned underneath Kurt is a mutant that looks to be about 15, huffing real hard.

"It's just a kid." You say. You grab the kid's arm and motion for Kurt to let him up. Hesitantly he does and you keep your grip tight around the youngster's forearm as he rises from the ground. "Yo kid, what're you doin creeping around this school like a ghost haunting the place,?" You ask. The kids tries to wresting away from you unsuccessfully.

"How did you even find me?"

"That's kind of what we do."

"Traitors!" He snaps.

"What?" You're sure the look of confusion on your face is severe.

"How do you sleep at night turning against your own kind? Taking mutants to the government."

"Oh hush." You roll your eyes. "We're X-men not cops. But on paper I'm a professor at a school for 'gifted youngseters'- or mutants. Like you. We track down and house young mutants, teach them how to make the most of their abilities." You tell him.

"Oh-"

"You got a bag? Photos of your dead family, childhood momentos, a sack of clothes, anything you don't wanna leave here before we take you."

"Take me where?" 

"To the school kid, congrats on your admission." You say.

"I've got a backpack."

"Good. Lead the way." You don't let go of him, in case he gets flighty on you but he without protest takes you to the classroom holding his personal items and soon you're in the car again with him silently in the back seat.

"You got a name speedster?"

"Matt."

"I'm y/n, this is Kurt." You offer.

You drive a few hours until you hit a safehouse and Kurt stays up watching Matt while you catch some sleep before hitting the road again. You decide to tough it out and do the 10 hour drive without another overnight stop. You stop for food, you stop for gas, you stop for restroom breaks if necessary but you wanna make it back to the mansion, the sooner the better.

Once there, you and Matt set out to find Charles, get the kid officially set up and whatnot. But as soon as Kurt's out of sight Matt asks a question out of nowhere.

"What's up with you and that blue guy?"

"His name is Kurt kid don't be rude." You say.

"Okay, what's up with you and Kurt?"

"What are you talking about?"

"He looks at you like nothing else has ever mattered in the world when you're near him."

"You're being ridiculous." You roll your eyes.

"You're being oblivious."

"Watch it kid." You warn him.

"Not sure if you really don't notice it or if you're deliberately ignoring it but the guy definitely likes you. How can you not tell?"

"I barely know him."

"Then why do you look at him like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you wanna put him in a box and keep him like a pet."

"We're here. Charles! I found your funny feeling." You say pushing open the door to his office.

"Hello y/n."

"This is Max. We need to talk about the missions you're sending me on."

"You were successful. And in a shorter timeframe than expected. I see no reason to make changes." Charles says.

"I'm not gonna argue with you in front of the kid. We'll discuss it later." You say and leave the office. You head to the kitchen to make yourself a something to drink and a snack. It's been an exhausting few days.

You open the fridge, looking for something to snack on.

"You don't like me, do you?" Kurt's voice takes you by surprise, you swear the kitchen was empty when you came in here.

"Fucking- where the hell did you come from?"

"Just- around."

"Oh great what an enlightening answer. What are you even talking about?"

"You don't like me." Kurt says. It's not a question.

"How'd you come to that conclusion?" You sigh.

"You were grumpy during that whole mission."

"Not because of you I was pissed at Charles."

"Because he made you work with me?"

"Yes! Is that what you wanna hear? I was mad Charles paired me with someone I can't stand. Does that not sound insane to you Kurt? Obviously that's not it. The whole mission made me uncomfortable and I felt like it was... targeted. Like Charles was picking on me or something."

"Why?" Kurt tilt's his head curiously.

"You're very religous and my relationship with that religion is pretty rough. On top of the fucking catholic school it was- a lot."

"Ah so- you don't believe in God?"

"I don't believe in Christianity." You say.

"But you believe in God?"

"I believe in many gods."

"How can you...?"

"I believe all of them exist, because religion is based in belief- faith is the belief of something without proof of existence, by definition if believing in something makes it true then all the pantheons exist- but each person is only influenced by the pantheon they believe in."

"What an insightful line of thinking." He hums. "So you don't hate me?"

"No. I have complicated feelings around religion not you."

"What are your feelings around me?"

"You're new. I don't know you well but you seem very sweet, and there's obviously a reason everyone else wanted you to stick around in the first place so that's good enough for me." You shrug.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Well- do you want me to stick around?" He asks.

You let out a sigh.

"I want you to do what makes you happy. If staying here, being part of this, doing what we do, makes you happy then yeah, stick around. But, you have to stop caring about if people like you. Not everyone will and that has to be okay because sometimes personalities just don't mix and nothing you do or say will change that and you shouldn't spend your time trying to make yourself change for them anyway. You should want people that like you for you because if you have to change then they don't like you they like what they can turn you into and that's not worth the stress. Not everyone will like you it's not a personal failure on you. Just make sure you like you."

"I agree with you, and I don't need everyone to like me." He says.

Kurt steps closer to you.

"But I do want you to like me. And if that takes a while, I'm willing to work to make that happen." He leaves the kitchen then and you're only barely able to keep a straight face until he's gone. You're stunned by his admission but your lips slowly stretch into a smile.

"Fuck me." You chuckle.

Why on earth does he want you to like him? And what made him say that just now? And what does it mean? And how are you supposed to deal with the fact that your heart is racing right now?

Things are about to get very different for you around the mansion.

***

[cedarmoonzz]

juna •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

ship: kurapika x gn!reader

warnings: sfw kissing, just major fluff

summary: unspoken farewells, a kiss, a promise, and lingering emotions—four gifts kurapika leaves you with. you wonders if the fifth might be him himself.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Kurapika, you noticed, does not like saying goodbye.

It's always "be well," or "stay safe," or "don't forget to lock the doors while I'm gone." You pin it down as one of his eccentricities, until you realize he only does it when pertaining to you.

He has no trouble shooting off a jovial "Goodbye!" when the two of you are leaving a coffee shop, or to Nostrade as you both depart for your next mission. You heard him bid farewell to a bug once, after he'd caught one in the kitchen and released it to the safety of your balcony garden, waving it off with a gentle "Farewell.”

So, Kurapika does not, in fact, have a problem with goodbyes, except when it comes to you.

"Kurapika," you called out, your voice shattering the tranquil stillness of dawn as he stood at the threshold, poised for departure. The first light of morning cast a gentle glow around him, giving the moment an almost ethereal quality. He paused, the weight of your words causing him to turn, his silhouette framed by the soft hues of the awakening day.

"When will you be back?" you asked, a hint of pleading in your tone that you couldn't quite mask. Despite yourself, you could not keep from glancing at him. As if the answer you sought might be found in the folds of his blazer, in the look on his face—a vain search, you knew, but you did not try to stop yourself.

"In about a week's time," he replied, his gaze lingering on you with a blend of determination and tender concern. "Nostrade has business at the auction in the Federation of Ochima." He hesitated, his normally steely eyes softening as they met yours. He reached up to catch your hand in his own, then lifted it to his face and brushed his lips against your knuckles. "Are you certain you'll manage on your own?"

"I’m sure. Someone needs to keep an eye on the York New mafia, after all," you reassured him, summoning every ounce of confidence you could muster. "Just... promise to come back safely."

"Of course," he breathed, the words carrying a solemn promise. His hand lifted, as if intending to ruffle your hair in a familiar gesture of affection, but it paused mid-air. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken words and lingering emotions, before his hand fell back to his side, leaving you with a subtle ache of longing. “I’ll miss you.”

"And I, you. Stay out of trouble."

He lifted one corner of his mouth in a half-smile, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his gaze. "You're trouble," he quipped, his tone a melodic blend of affection and playful reproach. "You might as well ask me to stay away from you."

You chuckled, the sound soft and tinged with wry irony. "I want you to stay away from trouble, not from me. Although, it's debatable which one's more dangerous."

"Fair point," he conceded, his eyes sparkling with impish delight. "But I seem to have a knack for finding mischief.”

You smirked, your lips curving in bemused appreciation. "You're like a magnet for chaos. It's almost impressive."

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, filling the space between you like a comforting embrace. "And yet, here you are, always drawn to the chaos I bring."

"Someone has to keep an eye on you," you retorted, "Besides, I like a bit of excitement."

His smile widened, his eyes hooded, and the generally arch nature of his expression left your heart pounding, beating erratically against your sternum. “I aim to please,” Kurapika said to you, leaning closer to speak in a low, gravelly tone barely louder than a whisper. “I’ll do my best to stay out of harm’s way.” He lowered his hand to your waist, making a deliberate point to draw the pads of his fingers low across the small of your back as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you near—your stomach kissed against his—

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, your lips curving into a smile that seemed impervious to any hint of melancholy. “Now go, before I decide I need you here to keep me entertained.”

He chuckled softly, stepping back as the air between you charged with an intense, almost palpable energy. His gaze locked onto yours with a depth that spoke of both affection and an unspoken farewell. “Take care, my love.”

“You too,” you muttered, feeling your heart flutter despite the stoic mask you tried to maintain.

Just as he was about to step out the door, you reached out, your fingers closing around his hand with a firm yet gentle grip. “Kurapika, wait.”

He turned back, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. You stepped closer, narrowing the space between you with deliberate grace. “One more thing,” you murmured softly, your fingers deftly adjusting his tie, ensuring it was perfectly aligned, with the collar creased just as he preferred.

“Is that all?” he inquired, his voice dropping to a mere whisper, laced with a hint of curiosity and amusement.

You leaned in, your lips drifting towards his in a tender, almost reverent brush. Soft and tentative, a delicate whisper of intimacy that soon evolved into something more profound. As your lips met, a shift occurred—a warm, encompassing embrace that seemed to envelop you both in a cocoon of shared sensation. He melted into the kiss, his body surrendering to the connection with effortless grace. When you finally pulled away, the world seemed to pause for a moment, both of you breathless and profoundly aware of the unspoken emotions that had been exchanged.

“Hurry home,” you rasped, voice barely audible.

“I will,” he replied, his lips meeting your hairline tenderly. “I promise.”

You brought your hand up to your face, brushing your fingertips against your lips, remembering the contact… you lingered in the memory, letting its softness cushion your awakening before logic inevitably intruded.

You do not, it seems, have a problem with goodbyes either, except when it comes to Kurapika.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

[unfortunately-obsessed]

Bruce Wayne | Quality Time

Love languages headcanons

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x reader

Word count: 0.6k | AO3 link 🩵

This man runs a whole conglomerate, dozen different charity foundations, has to play into whatever current political ploy is to earn information, (might have, like, 20 children), is a founding member of the JL, on top of being The Batman and trying to prevent Gotham from imploding – trying to make this unfixable city heal.

He nearly doesn't have enough time for himself – heavens know how many times Alfred shoot him with a horse tranquilizer – and time to you??

All his responsibilities are half the reason why quality time is his love language.

The other half is that he didn't have enough time with his parents. They were snatched from him, a child, and this time (his childhood) is something he'll never be able to have back

Not gonna lie, he's harsh. He won't prioritize you. Not on purpose, not because he doesn't love you, simply because there's people out there that need to be saved. And, after so much time without a proper relationship, maybe Bruce also doesn't know how to cater for you – and because he's way too awkward, too dense to a detective, even if he can play cool at times.

But the tiny things are like love letters:

Strikes to me as the guy that'll be in utterly destroyed, broken ribs and concussion, and still try and get up and have breakfast with you, just to be with you

His personal quiet time is important to him. It helps him organize his thoughts. Yet he'll try to be, at least, in the same room as you.

Bruce will sit on the same room as you, in complete silence, and stay. Maybe you're working and he is there on the couch of your office, sitting with a concussion and sixty percent painkiller, statue-quiet.

I love you, so I'll take the burden of not doing this super important other thing – like resting – to sit with you in silence.

Will stare at you, motionless.

Eventually, you'll learn that this face he's making is lovestruck-ness. Don't comment on it.

And if his love language is all about undivided attention, it means he'll learn how to organize his time to have together time without all the distractions. A walk around the Manor Garden, a quiet dinner in front of the tv, cuddling; might do the trick.

Stays awake to talk with you, even if it's after a case frenzy where he didn't sleep for a week. Crash with him in the couch after a long day.

If I could stay with you here forever, I would. He can't get this words out, a lump on his throat, so he just stay as long as he can

Can't tell me he won't marathon Grey Ghost with you. At the end of every episode will dump on you all the details about the production. It's important that you listen even if you don't find it all interesting. Connection bids, y'know?

Ask him about forensics if you want to know more about the whole Batman deal. Or explain the new additions to the batmobile.

Getting to explain something he loves to someone he loves counts as top-quality time in Bruce's books.

Sometimes will find you just to start explaining a current case he can't crack. Either to see if you have any intelligent idea, but mostly because saying it aloud helps thinking.

And he doesn't know how to have the steady heartfelt conversations, so he'll listen to you talk. About your day, your plans, how much you worry about him, about what you ate today.

A great listener. Will hit you with follow up questions so you can keep talking about what you love. Never talks about him but at this point you know the drill – you have to ask for him to talk.

Regular week preplanned dates. Will do all in his powers to not postpone it. Will be completely heartbroken when this inevitably happens. Will look like a kicked puppy.

He's not distracted with you, all his mental attention on you and you only.

That's it 👍

A/N: If you like what I do, please consider supporting me and buying a coffee!

[dreamyautumns]

I have severe Giant Malleus brainrot so I’m gonna write about him!

~💚~💚~

It’s quiet outside. The stars hung above Ramshackle dorm like twinkling string lights. The air was steady with a gentle breeze.

You sat on the roof of your dorm and took a deep breath. It’s a still silence in your mind as you look up.

“Child of Man…”

You snap out of your tranquility in an instant. You can feel an overwhelming presence from behind. You slowly turn around to see a gigantic figure towering several stories above you. Black horns glisten in the moonlight atop this figure’s head. Emerald, jewel green eyes shimmer like forbidden gems.

“Tsunotaro…” you quietly whisper. A faint rumbling comes from beneath you as the giant fae bends down to make eye contact with you. “You know someone will see you, right?”

Malleus nods his head, the movement ever so slightly shifting the building beneath your feet. He exhales a breath, blowing past you. It smells of fire and ashes.

“I came to see you… Diasomnia has become rather tiring to manage. Especially with Sebek running around and yelling at the students,” Malleus responds. His voice is deep and rumbling like an earthquake. It is a voice that should instill fear into your heart, but you do not flinch. He’s not here to do you any harm.

“Well, now that your here, was there anything in particular you came to tell me?” You asked.

“No…” Malleus stated. “I simply came to get away from it all.”

You turned away from him and glanced up at the stars. Their shine brings a twinge of pain to your heart.

“Tsunotaro? Can I ask you something?” You say.

The giant dragon fae tilts his head. “What is it, Child of Man?”

“Will you be sad when I find a way to get back to my world?”

Malleus shifts, his movement causing the ground to vibrate. “Perhaps I will. I don’t know for sure.”

You turned around. His lips said one thing, but his face read another. He was pouting, his eyes narrowed on a nearby tree.

“You will, won’t you?”

Malleus clenches a fist and shoots a blast of glowing fire at a tree. Clearly, he’s upset at that prospect.

“Hey, there’s no need to be sad,” you say, getting up. “I’ll always remember you.”

“But you won’t be here with me,” Malleus replied. “I want you here in Twisted Wonderland with me. If you leave, then I have no one. I will forever be alone.”

You frowned at this remark.

“If you remember me, then… you’ll never be alone. I’ll keep you in my heart. Always and forever.”

Malleus extends a hand and picks you up. He then stands up to his towering height. At this level, you’re no bigger than half the size of his thumb. The fae towers over you like a building.

Yet these hands will never hurt you. They will never crush you, never pinch you, never squeeze you. They are hands that calm and soothe you.

The gigantic prince draws you close to his chest, and slowly, for a moment, his façade lowers. You lean into his warmth and smile at him.

“You will always have me in your memories, you say? Then I shall keep you in mine. You are my dearest friend ever. I love you… please… you can’t leave me…”

You stopped and looked down at the ground, which was dozens of feet away from you.

Maybe… staying in Twisted Wonderland wouldn’t be so bad.

[thefiery-phoenix]

GROUNDED TO REALITY (YANDERE DEKU X READER)

Hey everyone, guess who's back in business?!!!😏😌 So, I'll be writing from now on and I just hope my account doesn't get deleted like the previous one. I hope you guys enjoy and forgive me if my writing sucks, it's been a while. And also, guess who officially turned 17 today 🥳

You had a fondness and passion for books ever since you were a child. The feeling of just delving into a world of fiction, where life wasn't complicated and didn't contain the toxicity of the real world made you feel at ease and gave you a sense of serenity, a feeling of tranquility to be precise. You've often found yourself getting lost in the fictional world, disregarding reality at times. Was it a coping mechanism for you? You weren't sure, but your parents didn't like the way you always preferred your books and novels to things happening in real life. Your parents owned a multi million dollar business empire, you being the only child of theirs would be next in line to inherit their large and vast fortune. Your parents weren't pleased when you informed them about your future plans to become a writer when they wanted you to be moulded into the perfect young successor they thought you'd be

"You're not going to waste your time sitting and writing silly childish stories!" your father bellowed on top of his lungs. You hated the way every night would end in an argument these days ever since your parents caught wind of you working on a new novel. "They're not silly childish stories! If you don't know about what I'm doing you're in no position to judge me" you retorted and glared at your father. Your mother had an icy expression on her face as she set her fork and knife on the table with a rather loud clatter and spoke in a cold voice "Where are your manners? Is that how you talk to your parents?" You just grumbled under your breath and stormed off to your room and shut the door behind you, ignoring your parents yelling at you to come downstairs to finish your dinner

That however, was just a single incident on how your parents tried to control your life. While you wanted to take a course for writing and establish your name in the writing industry, your parents forced you to attend the entrance exam of UA Academy, the most prestigious academy for upcoming and rising heroes of Japan. You had no intention of becoming a hero, ever. Sure, you always fantasized about saving people and you've had plenty of experience on how to write the personality for a hero but that didn't mean you wanted to become a hero yourself. Your quirk was your lucky factor, which enabled you to shoot black crystal spikes from the ground, instantly piercing through whatever your target is. You managed to get into the UA Academy and you had to admit, it honestly wasn't that bad

Out of all the people you've managed to befriend, you felt more attached and closer to Izuku Midoriya, a literal embodiment of sunshine. He was kind, optimistic and sweet. He always made sure you took your meals properly and stayed hydrated whenever you were working on your novel. Whenever you'd tell him about whatever scene or plot you were working on, he'd listen to you with rapt attention, with a look in his eyes that you meant the world to him, because you did. What you had no idea about was the fact that he was starting to grow obsessed with you. He couldn't stop thinking about you day after day as time progressed. He loved everything about you, you said you weren't sure if you were ever going to end up with someone because of your flaws and frankly, it just broke his heart. Though he held your hands and comforted you, the thought and very prospect of you ever ending up with someone other than him made him livid

You were too busy in your fantasy world to notice his red flags and suspicious behavior like how he knew literally everything about you, your daily schedule and not to mention him getting absolutely territorial and possessive over you when someone else approached you for anything. You just brushed off his behavior which was something you shouldn't have done, little did you know, you'd end up paying dearly and gravely for this negligence of yours. As much as he loved and admired your determination, he really wanted you to take care of yourself as well. He could see the listless red bleary eyes of yours and the dark circles beneath your eyes, a result from your lack of sleep and self care. He chided you like a mother hen and made sure to feed you during the lunch period because clearly, you weren't capable of taking care of yourself properly and he saw himself as your protector

One day as a result of you getting a low score on one of your tests, your father, out of sheer anger and fury threw your book into the fireplace, burning your hardwork and letting it go up in flames. You could only stare in horror with silent tears falling down your eyes as you tried to salvage whatever you could though your hands were burning. "I can't believe I was ever going to hand over the company to a disgrace like you" your father hissed as he walked out of the room, however you didn't have the energy to fight back against him. The next day when you were unusually quiet, Deku noticed it immediately of course. He noticed everything about you, your moods and your thoughts. Upon asking you what was wrong and when you filled him in about the situation at home, he found himself growing angry at your parents. How dare they stop his beloved from doing something you loved?

He already had plans to take you for himself and with this information, it just sped up his process. He didn't want you suffering from all the toxicity of the society, you were an angel. HIS angel, who deserves to be free and happy, with HIM of course. So he did what he thought was right by drugging you and taking you in the middle of the night. When you woke up, you were surprised to find yourself in a room which wasn't yours. After you got to know Deku's real intentions, surprisingly, you didn't feel like fighting back against him. At first, he was confused. Perhaps you were playing some sort of trick on him to gain his trust but when he watched and observed your behavior for a while, you were suspiciously calm about the whole situation at hand

You were tired of being the perfect golden child that always had to obey the rules and make your parents proud which never gave you time to work on your writing. Deku just hugged you and told you that he loved you for being you, that you were perfect in his eyes. When he said he was proud of you and your incredible writing talents, that's when you broke down and softly sobbed into his shoulder as he gently caressed your head and rubbed soft comforting circles on your back. You'd be lying if you didn't dream about moments like this from all the books and novels you'd been reading

Deku was going to keep you grounded to reality, with him by clipping your wings so you wouldn't fly away from him, which is the last thing he needs. Don't worry darling, he'll take good care of you and you'll be able to write your books once more. You won't be able to publish them though, not even under a fake account because he's really paranoid about people finding you and taking you away from him. And besides, he also feels like your talent would be wasted on undeserving people who wouldn't be able to understand your feelings through your writing like he did if you published your works. As for your parents, he'd deal with them in such a way that they'll be begging him for death after he's done with them. Of course he won't tell you what he's done with them though, the last thing he wants to do is make you scared of him. He loves you, you know... just make sure you show him some love too through those forced cuddle sessions he enforces on you before he hides your books and writing material. He has done that before and will continue to do so till you eventually give him what he wants, so there's no fighting it

[forbidd3n-w1re]

Letting the walls down - Billy Butcher x Reader

hey-ho! i've had this idea for a while and had to pour it out, enjoy! 

 originally this was supposed to be a butcher x reader but while writing it i put in a tiny bit of hughie x reader, i mean you can see it if you squint lol-

 summary : you and butcher have been somewhat okay friends for a while, and even though he doesn't want to acknowledge it, he cant push everyone away.

 warnings : so much angst (i feed off of it.) nightmares, beating up, billy actually being nice to someone(you lol), billy also attacking hughie, scars, panic attack, flashbacks, heavy alcohol use, passing out, venting, traumatic past, mention of shootings, "cunt"'s (tell me if i forgot something please!)

 if any of these trigger you, please dont read this fanfic!

commission : nope!

 word count : ≈2800 words

 genre : angst, hurt/comfort (someone's gotta do it, right?)

(im so sorry this is so long i went wild with this one)

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Butcher wasn't a talkative type when it comes to his past. In fact, he never let anyone come close enough to him to know him very well. In the team, he was just the leader, the one that organized the plan and the strategy, the one that went head-first into danger.

You? You we're the one that held the team like a magnet.

When Hughie first joined, Butcher looked like he'd screw his head off if he made one wrong step. Every single time Butcher offended him and told him he was a cunt, you'd fight back for him. You knew that Hughie had it in him, he knew how to be defensive, but at that time it was risky to talk back to Butcher due to the fact how much Billy hated him. It happened a lot. It was like you were Butcher's tranquilizer.

Hughie appreciated everytime you stood on his side, even after every glare Billy made to you. Billy knew the death glare would work on Hughie because he looked like he shat his pants, but you? You did not twitch at all. No shiver. Nothing. You couldn't even bother to look back at him.

Sooner or later, Butcher's "cunt"'s and "wimp"'s that were addressed to Hughie weren't that frequent anymore. Sure, Butcher without using the word cunt at least once in a day was nonexistent, but they weren't said to Hughie anymore.

Until one day they had a pretty big fight about the new member, Annie, AKA Starlight. Butcher, the no.1 Supe hater immediately started swearing at Hughie for bringing her to the hideout. After some time, Annie left, and then the shit hit the fan.

"Oi, kid. Who the fuck do you think you are, bringin' over here some random chick? Who is, apparently, a fuckin' Supe?" Butcher started yelling at the guy, pushing him around.

"Listen, I-I know it wasn't a good idea, but please, hear me out--"

Butcher grabbed Hughie by the collar, slamming him against a pillar hardly, and the smaller figure of Hughie's let out a loud grunt.

"Shut yer' fuckin' trap right the fuck now. Do yer' understand in what danger we could be if she had a mic?" Butcher held his collar more tightly now, looking at him like he might just chop off his head at that moment. "No, you don't, Hughie. You know why? 'Cause you're nothing but a trashy, shitty li'l cunt who had managed to grab a single bit of luck to join my little team. If you continue being a little pussy, I swear on my mother that i will-"

Sensing that the fight seriously escalated, and totally not because Hughie had started to breathe more shallowly because of how hardly his chest was pressed against the pillar, you stood off the couch, grabbed a foldable plastic chair and pushed Butcher as far away from Hughie as you could.

Butcher not detecting the sudden attack had a much more violent tone in his voice now. He wanted a fair fight.

"Oi, the fuck do you think you're doin', li'l shit?" Not bothering to deal with Butcher's bickering, you focused on helping Hughie not fall down as he heaped for gasps of air.

"Hey, Hughie, focus. Focus on your breathing, alright?" You got the comment from other members of the team that you and Billy actually had a lot in common, but the calmness of your voice was something Billy could never achieve probably. Hughie looked at you, his look revealing how many apologies he wanted to tell you for making this now your problem, but you only gave him a hopeful nod and a smile. "Go take a seat on the couch. I have an inhalator in one of my jackets if you need it, alright hun?" Hughie only let out a quiet agreement, following your orders.

Butcher, on the other hand, his eye twitched a little when hearing the nickname you gave Hughie. He knew that the nicknames you gave to the team were all in platonic meanings, but he still felt that little twinge in his heart when he knew the silly nicknames weren't for him.

You followed up now to Butcher, staring up at him. He reeked of alcohol, probably from last night, and cigarettes. He tried to hold up a pissed face to you, but you knew he couldn't do it. Everyone has their secrets, Butcher's was his past, and the fact that everytime you looked badass, he loved it.

"Stay the fuck away from him, or I will pluck out your little so-called "bollocks", one by one, painfully." There was your angry tone, along with a bit of mocking his british dialect. Others were right, you guys did have a lot in common. Billy only smirked at your threat. Billy pushed past you, grabbing his jacket, and stated something that made you chuckle. "Im going out for a drink, try to stay out of the little wimp's underwear while I'm gone."

Hughie and you were alone in the hideout now. Annie left, M.M. was in a visit to his daughter, and Frenchie and Kimiko went on a date.

Approaching the curly haired figure, you heard his small coughing fits. Surely Butcher didn't hurt him that badly, right?

"Hughie? Hun, you alright?" Putting your hand on his shoulder from behind, you jumped over next to him. Hughie brought his head up, only this time he wasn't startled.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Thank you for everything that you've done, really. Especially back there, not everyone has the guts to practically throw Butcher away with a chair." He gave you a small smile.

"No problem. Besides, he shouldn't act like that towards anyone. And Annie was really sweet too-"

Hughie stopped you, quickly apologizing, but immediately continuing.

"No, no, I understand him. I shouldn't have done that, besides he isn't a big fan of Supes, and Annie might've had a mic but I know she wouldn't. We can't be careful enough, if they find us we're practically doomed." Hughie was now on Butcher's side at this point.

"But, you know… He does have a weak spot for you." Hughie gave you a smirk, knowing that if you had water in your mouth you'd probably spit it out after hearing this.

"Pardon?" You looked at him with wide eyes, not believing a single word the curly haired boy just said.

"Back there, when you threatened him. I know that he has this façade of his where he pretends like he's the strongest man alive, but he gave you a smile upon hearing you. I think he even liked the fact that you weren't scared to stand up to him."

You got up from the couch, looking at Hughie with the biggest shock. "What the hell do you mean?"

Hughie just smirked, "You should go check up on him. See how he's doing. I think you're the only one of us that might get closer to him. Don't tell him I sent you there though, please." Nodding in agreement, you grabbed one of your oversized leather jackets and went to the door. Soon, Hughie stopped you.

"Oh, and Y/N? Thank you."

"No problem, hun." And you headed out to find your stupid ass loverboy.

//////~~`×`~~//////

Heading into the bar, you looked at the clock that was placed next to the cups. The clock showed half past 11, and your view fell onto the slouched, buff figure that was Billy. Walking up to him, you tapped flicked his head lightly as a sign for him to wake up.

"Oiiii, yer lil cuntttt…" He sounded wasted more than he ever was. He used to drink a lot on work, one time he even wanted to dance with M.M., but the 17 glasses of whisky gave you a very bad impression on how he felt right now.

"Hi to you too, cunt ass." You lightly shook him with a small curl of your lips on your face showing.

"The fock do ya want, kid? Can't you see a man tryin' to enjoy himself?" His british accent came out even more unclear when he was intoxicated, which would be funny if he wasn't laying down on the table, alone in the pub. "Go get me another round, be useful for once, N/N." That was a new one, you never heard anyone from the team use a nickname on you.

"Absolutely not. Butcher, c'mon, get up, we're leaving." You tried to give him a hand, but he wouldn't budge.

"Where the hell we goin'?" He groggily asked.

"Im driving you to my home since I don't know your adress.Now Butch, please, cooperate."

Agreeing for once, he put his arm around your shoulders and hung onto you as he struggled to walk.

Walking to your car, you felt like you were walking sideways the whole time, probably because he was much bigger than you. "Lean onto the car, Butch, okay? I have to get my keys, then I'll help you get in the car." You felt the need to give him instructions and steps for everything, because after seeing him passed out on that table circled with whiskey shots, you felt more safe if you did that. Listening to your idea, he leaned on, and you quickly unlocked the car and opened his door. "Alright, hun, let's get you in." Your arm sneaked around his torso, guiding him to sit down into the passenger seat. He smiled lightly at the nickname. Buckling him up, you closed the door lightly and went into your seat, turning on the car and driving away.

//////~~`×`~~//////

Driving around the city, you realized Butcher was quietly snoring. Probably the most peaceful you've ever seen him.

Parking into your backyard garrage, you got out of your car and went to Billy's side, unbuckling him. "Hey, hun, wake up." You lightly gave him a slap on his right cheek, figuring it was a better idea than pouring a bucket of ice on him. Unfortunately, he was not a light sleeper. Giving up, you put your arms around him once more and somehow getting him out of the car, making him lean onto the vehicle for a moment while you locked it.

Swinging your arm once again, you went into your house and layed him down on the couch. By now, it was way past midnight and you came to the conclusion that he wont be waking up until the morning. You went into your bedroom, taking off your work clothes and dressing up into your pj's. Grabbing your phone for a sec to text Hughie that Butcher is in an okay condition, unfortunately you were stopped by Butcher's grunts from the living room.

Getting up and sighing, you realized how much your eyes were close to closing themselves and going off to sleep, how much your arms felt like you had a fist fight with someone and how much your legs burned, including your back that was almost folded in half by Butcher's weight while you carried him. You were tired, but you needed to keep the team in top shape. After all, you were their magnet, which also meant that you should be there for everyone, even Butcher. Even Butcher, who behaved like a bag of shit towards everyone. Knocking on the door side, you stepped in the living room, the floors creaking.

"Butcher, is everything alright?"

Your eyes headed towards his sleeping figure, but he didn't look like he was enjoying his resting time as he kept shivering and thrashing in several points of the night. You got the blanket at the table next to you, slowly putting it over him. The blanket used to provide you heat, but also comfort and a safe space. Maybe it would also work for him. Hopefully.

You wanted to bet that if Frenchie and M.M. were in the room with you right now, they'd probably take a bunch of pictures to make fun of you both. Thankfully, they weren't here, and you thought that Butcher might sometimes lack of rest. Climbing onto the couch, you lightly rose his head up and sat down, putting his head onto your lap and ruffling his hair. He was taller, so you didn't get a lot of opportunities to ruffle his hair at all. You didn't even know you wanted to do that, but you did either way.

Although he was a heavy sleeper, apparently he realized what you were doing. Still woozy from the alcohol and driving around, he barely recognized the place he was in when he woke up, but what he did see was your face. Along with the blanket that you gave him. Snuggling a bit closer to you, he pulled the blanket up closer to you so that you don't feel left out and he mumbled something.

"Didn't hear you, love… Mind trying to repeat it?" You spoke, removing a bit of his hair from his forehead, feeling that he was sweating a bit.

"Hnnnnhhh….y'know 'm nun' like 'im…" His drowsy voice was back, and even though you loved how calm he sounded, you started to get a bit worried. You didn't know the real reason why he was so uptight with everyone, not letting his guard down.

"Like who, love?"

"My fatherrrr…" You don't know his past. You shouldn't jump to conclusions. You only knew that he didn't like his father because Hughie told you that once when you went out for a coffee.

You face was forming a very sad look, trying to keep yourself at bay and not let a few tears drop down to his head. You have to stay strong for everyone. For you. For him.

"No… No, Billy, you're not. You will never be like him. You're better, darling, you know that yourself already." Stay strong. Keep yourself at bay.

"Yeh…yeh…y'know, those scars on my back, the ones you saw during the fight in Russia when you treated my wounds…" His voice didn't sound confused by the alcohol anymore, rather just sad, guilty and ashamed.

"Yeah, what about them love?"

"He did that to me. With a belt. Like I was a fuckin' animal. I tried to save him, Y/N, I-I really did." He was sniffling. If you weren't having the table lamp turned on, you'd think he has a pollen allergy.

This is where your façade started breaking down.

"Who, hun? Who did you try to save?"

"Lenny, my brother. He…" Butcher stopped, looking like he's having an internal fight with himself whether he should continue, because he's showing his vunerable side now. "He shot himself. Because of me." Tears started sliding down his cheeks, silent ones that have shown how much he has been through. How much he has been keeping the truth in for himself. How long he kept it from the public, knowing that if he was left alone his whole life he'd probably rot. The tears showed how much he hated himself for his actions, for leaving his younger brother unprotected, for not standing up to his father more often (even though he tried his best), how much he missed Becca, how much he regretted for leaving Ryan with Homelander, how much he hates looking vunerable. You, though? You didn't question any of his actions. You simply brushed away his tears and gave him a peck in his hair.

"I'm so sorry, love. I'm sorry that happened. Some things just make us stronger, but you were a child back then, you didn't deserve any of this. You didn't deserve to be treated like trash from your father. You didn't deserve Homelander suddenly flying fuck knows where with Ryan. Darling,"

You started, wiping another tear and smiling at him softly. He loved seeing your smile, whether it was a feisty one or a caring one, a silly one or a tired one. It made him feel… loved. "I believe in you. You are literally the strongest person I know. Not a monster. Not a killing machine. Not nothing. You are a person, just like the rest of us."

He sat back up from his sleeping position, only to lay his head down onto your shoulder. You've never seen him this affectionate, nobody probably ever has besides Becca. She was a nice woman, you remember Butcher showing pictures of her sometimes, it's a shame she had to die like that.

"Hey, Y/N." He looked at you.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for being a kind cunt."

"Back with your cuntiness, i see…" you chuckled, and he only closed his eyes again, deciding to fall into the slumber of sleep once again.

"Love ya', Y/N."

You swore you felt heat rise to your cheeks, hell if your blood wasn't all the way into your brain like you were hanging off of something.

"…Love you too, Billy."

His beard tickled the everloving shit of you, but you didn't have the guts to wake him up again. Not while he's getting something he hasn't had for a while, rest. Before joining him in the nap, you swung your arm across his shoulders, pulling him in closer. He seemed to like the action, scooting a bit closer to you.

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AAAA i hope you liked the fic!! i usually dont write a lot, but since the fandom needs more x reader fanfics (esp angst because im so good at it, haha slay), i've came in clutch! B)

 till next time!!

[imasadboi]

YanderePirate!Leon x Mermaid!Reader

Minors fuck off, please and thank you! This was just stuck in my lil head for a while and I went through with it, hope y'all enjoy. I may write more, depends if the inspo hits me or not. Shit was not beta'd so excuse any mistakes. . CW: blood, violence, use of weapons (harpoon), noncon, somnophilia, fingering, masturbation, reader is part fish. Lmk if I missed anything.

You first came into existence for him when he’d spotted you lounging on a rock, the sunlight making your skin glisten and your hair glow. His eyes trailed further down your body to notice your pert nipples, as a gentle sea breeze washed over your body. 

But what caught his eye the most, was your tail—virescent and refracting the sun’s light in a way that made it glimmer so beautifully. He had never seen something so captivating in his life. Obsession blossomed in his chest then, the need to have you flowing into his veins at a burning rate. At this moment, his only goal in life was to capture you and make you his.

Leon finds himself smiling as he sees his harpoon shoot right through your tail, the way your blood fills the grooves of your scales and melds flawlessly with the ocean water;

“Don’t struggle darling, you’ll only make it worse for yourself!” 

Your eyes involuntarily well up with tears, pain racking your body as you struggle to take in breaths. You flail in the water as your body is lifted, a loud cry escapes your throat as the unknown pirate hauls your body onto his ship—each pull causes the harpoon to jolt in your injury.

With a thud, your injured body lands on the deck; Leon has a rope in hand, roughly grabbing your arms and tying your wrists together.

“God, you look so much more beautiful up close, love.” Leon’s eyes trail across your body, lingering on your chest for a moment before eyeing the damage he just caused with his weapon. ‘I had to,’ he thinks, eyebrows furrowing with affliction, ‘She would have swam away.’

“I feel awful for this darling, but bear with me,” You follow his line of sight landing on the harpoon. You quickly realize what’s about to happen. 

“Wait, wait, wait, please don’t—,” a loud and agonizing shriek is heard, reverberating in Leon’s ears causing him to wince.

Sobs and whimpers pour from your mouth as Leon tosses the item aside, “Shh dear, you did so well. I’ll make you feel better in no time. I promise darling.” He cups your face, wiping heavy tears from your face with a gentle thumb—it should be his tongue instead.

Your tail sluggishly bleeds onto the wooden floor, your body working to heal itself in a timely manner. You look into those blue eyes, contrasting the warmth of your home;

“Why are you doing this?”

Leon stops the gentle strokes on your face, his face falling into blissful tranquility, “The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were mine darling.” 

It’s the last thing you hear as you succumb to darkness, the events taking a toll on your body. Leon feels his heart swell at the sight of you falling limp in his arms. He manages to slide an arm under your shoulders and your tail—struggling a bit with how slippery it is—and carries you into his quarters. 

He lays you down on his bed where he wraps a bandage over your gash, noticing the way it’s beginning to close on its own. He knew of some stories and tales of merfolk abilities but now, seeing it for himself, he finds himself in awe. Had he been someone else, someone who only found interest in obtaining their weight in gold, you would have been ripped apart. Killed. All for what could be exploited for man's benefit. Anger clouds his mind for a second, “Nobody can ever hurt you now, love.”

Leon runs a hand over your cheek, pushing your hair behind your ear, “Nobody can ever hurt you now, love.”

He wants to leave you to rest but your prone body tempts that part of him he’s never felt so strongly before; desire. He can feel himself begin to harden at the thought of giving in. How dare you seduce him even while unconscious.

His hand slightly trembles as his fingertips make contact with the soft flesh of your stomach, feeling it rise with every pull of breath you take in and release. God, you look so beautiful. Those fingers make their way to the underside of your tit, before gliding onto your nipple. It perks at his touch and his excitement ramps up. How sensitive. His fingers grasp your nipple lightly, rolling it and pushing it into the supple flesh of your breast. He watches your face with rapport as he does so, your face gives no indication that you’re aware of his actions. 

The left hand trailing your body finally lands onto your tail, the scales under his touch feel moist yet smooth. There’s a gathering of scales that stand out among the others, his throat feels dry upon approaching it. With one finger, he gently moves the largest scale.

Now his mouth is practically salivating as his finger slowly reveals a seemingly normal looking pussy, only different in color—it matches the colors of your tail and he’s never found anything more beautiful. He takes a quick glance at your face and sees you’re still deep asleep.

He knows he shouldn’t, would rather see your live reactions to his touches, but he’s been dreaming about this for too long. Leon gingerly presses his pointer finger inside, taking note of how warm and wet you are. Your pussy seems to clench on the intrusion before relaxing. He slides it in and out, wanting to gather more of your wetness; It’s more viscous than other women he’s been with, creating a stupidly easy slip and slide for his finger.

Without hesitation, he dips two more fingers in, in awe as your pussy easily accepts them, like it was made for him. The other hand he had by your face moves to push his pants down, his dick already weeping with pre. He has enough restraint to keep from fucking you right then and there, instead removing his fingers from your hole and slathering the slick he accumulated from you onto his cock. He returns his fingers in you, this time with four. He begins to pump himself with the other, imagining he’s inside you instead.

There’s a slight strain to fingering you as he curls his fingers into the spongy part of your walls—which earns him a twitch of your tail and a cut-off whimper from you—while teasing the head of his dick. The arousal burns right through him, and Leon is unable to hold back from releasing deep moans and whimpers as he moves his hand faster. He sees your body start to squirm the more insistent he is with his digits, the urgency and deep need to make you cum with him hanging obsessively over his head.

You wake up with a feeling like something in your abdomen has snapped, and a loud moan shakily leaves your throat. Your pussy feels full and pulsates around the intruding object. On the other hand, Leon finally gives in and shoots load after load onto his shirt, hand, and thighs—the look of your face, pure bliss, tipping him over the edge. He awaits a tongue-lashing from you only to find you’ve gone back to sleep.

He removes his fingers from you with care, bringing them to his mouth. At the first taste of you, he moans. He sucks on his fingers until your essence is completely eliminated. He tucks himself back into his pants, still feeling breathless from having cum so intensely. If just this felt amazing, he can only wonder what it’ll be like when he’s finally in you.

[simp999]

☆Simp's Masterlist☆

I specialize in fluff, hurt/comfort and (strangers to) friends to lovers! Basically my fics are 90% fluff and relationship building, and just a tad bit of angst for the feels~

Code:

⛓Angst

🌸Fluff

🌹Romantic

🍡Platonic

(🌹/🍡 can be seen as either)

Note: some stories have all of the above, so the order of the emoji is the same as the order in the story. For example: 🌸🍡🌹⛓ starts fluffy and platonic, ends with romantic feelings and angst.

Most of my fics are gender-neutral, They/Them pronouns used! I'm much more comfortable writing gender-neutral and male readers for personal reasons ww

Love ya'll <3

Splatoon manga:

A New Home (series) 🍡🌸⛓🌹

(Various Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader)

What happens when you get sent to Inkopolis, and begin to meet your favorite manga characters? Will you change the story? Will they love you? Hate you?

(Bloopers/Notes. Updated every chapter.)

Ch. 1: Where am I? Wc: 1.2k

Ch. 2: New people? Wc: 1.2k

Ch. 3: We are the Army. Wc: 1k

Ch. 4: If memory serves wrong... Wc: 1.3k

Ch. 5: Decisions, decisions Wc: 1.1k

Ch. 6: Hooooww Anooooying. Wc: 1.2k

Ch. 7: SUB WEAPON HELL! Wc: 1.2k

Ch. 8: Newfound Family. Wc: 1.1k

Ch. 9: Shopping Spree! Wc: 1.2k

Ch. 10: Skull's Territory. Wc: 1k

Ch. 11: A Misunderstanding? Wc: 1.2k

Ch. 12: Getting Too Comfortable. Wc: 1.2k

Ch. 13: Player Two? Wc: 1.7k

Ch. 14: ...You Didn't See That. Wc: 1.8k

Ch. 15: Sweetheart. Wc: 1.3k

Ch. 16: An Unexpected Meetup. Wc: 1.3k

Ch. 17: Not Much of a Choice, Huh? Wc: 1.8k

Ch. 18: Challengers Approach! Wc: 1.3k

Ch. 19: Freshest Squid on the Block! Wc: 1.4k

Ch. 20: The Absolute King. Wc: 1.6k

Ch. 21: A Crushing Defeat. Wc: 1.3k

Ch. 22: It Only Gets Tougher, I Promise. Wc: 1.4k

Ch. 23: New and Improved Team. Wc: 1.9k

Ch. 24: The Calm Before The Storm. Wc: 1.4k

Ch. 25: You're like me! ...not. Wc: 2.05k

Ch. 26: Another Step to De-throne the King. Wc: 1.2k

Ch. 27: Shoot For The Stars. Wc: 1k

Ch.28: Tranquility Before Chaos. Wc: 1k

Ch.29: What we Have. Wc: 1k

Ch.30: Pre-Battle Preperation Wc: 1.3k

Ch.31: Game On! Wc: 1.6

Ch.32: Someone to Remember. Wc: 1.1k

Ch.33: Someone to Miss. Wc: 1k

Ch.34: Someone to Hate. Wc: 1k

Ch.35: A True Family. Wc: 1.1k

Ch. 36: Bloodlust. Wc: 1.1k

Ch. 37: No, no! It's... Exactly What It Looks Like. Wc: 1.2k

Ch. 38: Mistakes. Wc: 1k

Ch: 39: The True Family. Wc: 1k

Ch. 40: What Now? Wc: 1k

Ch. 41: New Feelings. Wc: 1.2k

Ch. 42: Things are ... alright. Wc: 1k

Ch. 43: Things are not alright. Wc: 1k

Ch. 44: Healing. Wc: 1k

Skull:

Oneshot - Bully the Charger 🌸🌹

Wc: 0.7k

Army:

Drabble - Please Rest. 🌸🌹

Wc: 0.7k

Mask:

Oneshot - One of Those days, With a Twist. 🌸🌹🍡

It's one of those days- the ones where he just wants it to be over so he can feel better again. His hay fever was horrible, but maybe this time it wasn't so bad.

Wc: 1.6k

Team Yellow-Green:

Rider:

Physical Affection? No Thanks.⛓🌹🌸

Wc: 0.9k

Rock On! Rider x Rockstar! Reader 🌸🌹

Wc: 0.4k

Stealth:

The Deca Tower Crush 🌹🌸

Wc: 1.7k

Team Monarch:

Emperor:

My Monarch.🌹🌸⛓

Wc: 0.6k

Team Fortress 2:

All Mercs:

The Moment the Mercs Realise they enjoy Being Around Reader 🌸🍡/🌹(bit of angst for one part.)

Wc: 2.3k

Merc's reaction to their S/O picking up on their words/phrases/slang that they use 🌸🌹

Wc: 2.4k

Mercs with a Badass Fem Pilot! Reader🌸🍡+🌹

Wc: 0.7k

Sniper:

I Appreciate You. - Oneshot ⛓🌸🍡/🌹

Includes reader comforting (hints of being autistic) Sniper who feels bad for being distant, and stargazing.

Wc: 1.7k

Sick! Teen! Reader - Oneshot 🍡🌸

Wc: 0.7k

Pyro:

Knowing sign language (drabble) 🌸🍡/🌹

Imagine Pyro's excitement when they meet someone that can finally understand them. Fluff ensues.

Wc: 0.3k

Heavy:

Heavy reads to you when you have trouble sleeping (drabble) 🌸🍡/🌹

A sleepless night turn into soft snores after heavy reads to you in his mother tongue.

Wc: 470

Heavy With Reader Who Struggles With Managing Their Anger 🌸🍡/🌹 (Headcannons+Mini drabble)

Wc: 0.7k

Demoman:

Demo x Male! Reader Headcannons+Mini Drabble 🌸🌹

Wc: 0.8k

Engineer:

Sick! Teen! Reader - Oneshot 🍡🌸

Wc: 0.7k

Soldier:

BLU! Soldier: You have me. - Oneshot (hurt/comfort) ⛓🌸🌹

Wc: 1.8k

Medic:

The Red Means I Love You - Comfort/Fluff Oneshot 🌸🍡/🌹

Wc: 1.7k

Medic x Overworked! Reader - comfort/fluff oneshot 🌸🌹

Wc: 850

Sick! Teen! Reader - Oneshot 🍡🌸

Wc: 0.7k

Baby Birds~ Drabble 🌹🌸

Wc: 0.4k

I Like The Sound Of Your Voice - Drabble🌹🌸

Wc: 230

Scars - They're Not What You Think.🌹🌸

Wc: 240

Medic x reader who understands his birds🌸🌹

Wc: 320

Lutz Kruspe (Goth medic OC):

Dating headcannons 🌸🌹

Wc: 0.5k

Lutz x Punk! Reader🌸🌹

Wc: 0.4k

Proto:

Little Fri-iend!! 🌸🍡

Proto x little! NV! Reader drabble

Wc: 0.7k

Medibot/Otto:

Misunderstandings 🌸🍡

...Yeah, humans usually have their heartbeat quicken. It's normal.

Wc: 370

Medibot Oneshot - Overstimulated ⛓🌸🍡

He knows what it's like, he really does. He'll do everything he can to help, and maybe reveal some hidden feelings while he's at it.

Wc: 2k

Dexx:

Philia; Platonic Love - Dexx/Sniper 🌸🍡

Is platonic love such a hard thing to understand?

Wc: 2.5k

Sonic:

Knuckles the Echidna:

Lazy Day. 🌸🌹/🍡

Imagine being the first person to help knuckles finally truly relax.

Wc: 1.1k

Pokémon:

Giacomo:

I'm So Proud Of You☆ ⛓🌸🍡🌹

I'm So Proud Of You☆ pt. 2 ⛓🌸🌹

You were the one good thing in his life and he wants to make the best of it.

Total Wc: 9.1k

Arven:

All Good Things Come To An End. 🍡⛓🌹🌸

Sorry Arven, we'll have to hang out some other time.

Wc: 2.6k

Beyblade Burst:

Ken Midori:

Short Lived.🌸🍡🌹⛓

Just enough time for feelings to develop, but not enough to act on them.

Wc: 5.4k

Tokyo Revengers:

Various:

A New View On Life 🍡🌸

Oh how you lived for this thrill. Nothing could compare to the serotonin you get with these stupid boys.

Wc: 2.5k

Takashi Mitsuya:

Small Scares~ 🌸🌸🌸🌹

Halloween Special! Who would've thought that your strong gang-member boyfriend was afraid of horror movies? Time to comfort our favorite malewife!~

Wc: 1.2k

Shuji Hanma:

The Angel And The Reaper ⛓⛓⛓🌹

Halloween Special! Angst to the brim. What the hell is this feeling? Is it love? Disgusting. We love an unhinged reader.

Wc: 1.7k

Matsuno Chifuyu:

Familiar? 🍡⛓🌸

Baji? No, you're not him. But Chifuyu can't ignore the sense of comfort you give him.

Wc: 2.2k

TMNT:

2013 TMNT x Rise! Reader

Do I Know You? 🌸🍡

Do I Know You? Pt. 2 ⛓🌸🍡🌹

Damn it, Rise Donnie! Why'd you send me to 2013? Oh well, better make the best of it! (2013 Donnie x reader mostly, platonic for everybody else.)

Total Wc: 5.8k

Request info:

Taking requests for Captain Curly from Mouthwashing!

Please include a senario idea in your request. I'll do it in whatever form I feel like unless specified: Drabble, headcannons, or Oneshot.

[lizzieforlife]

Behind enemy lines|| ch 1: negotiate

FIRST POST!

marvel x fem reader (angst)

warnings: angst

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

I'm running, panting out of breath as I try to escape from the bullets being fired behind me. I don't know what to do. I'm scared, lost, alone.

"Y/n Stop running and this will be a lot easier" someone from the helicopter above says through a loudspeaker

The voice from the helicopter sends a chill down my spine, but I can't stop running. I have to keep going. Bullets whiz past me as I desperately zigzag through the dense forest, trying to throw off their aim, another one just barely misses my left cheek and lodges itself into a tree. For a split second I notice the red feathers on the object—it's not a bullet—it's a tranquilizer.

"This is your last warning! Stand down immediately or we will open fire!" The voice booms again, this time more menacing.

Sweat pours down my face as I gasp for air, my lungs burning. My legs scream in protest, but I push forward. I have no idea who these people are or what they want from me. All I know is that I can't let them capture me. 

I don't know why all of this is even happening. One moment I'm sitting at a restaurant with a friend, then the next I'm being chased through the woods.

A searing pain rips through my back and I stumble, crying out. They've shot me. I clutch the wound, my hand coming away slick with blood. Black spots dance before my eyes as waves of dizziness threaten to pull me under.

"She's been hit! Move in and apprehend the target!"

Gritting my teeth, I force myself up and break into a staggered run once more. Tears stream down my cheeks as each step sends bolts of agony through the bullet wound. The metallic taste of blood coats my mouth. How much farther can I go?

Another gunshot cracks through the air and a blinding pain lances through my calf. I crumple to the ground with a guttural scream as the world tilts violently around me. Rough hands seize me, wrenching my arms behind my back as I thrash weakly.

"No! Please, I don't know what you want! Just let me go!" I plead desperately.

"Save it for the interrogation," a gruff voice growls in my ear. "You've led us on one hell of a chase."

Darkness begins creeping in at the edges of my vision. The last thing I see is a team of armed figures in tactical gear closing in before everything goes black.

...

I jolt awake with a gasp, my body drenched in cold sweat. Where am I? Blinking rapidly, I take in my surroundings—a small room with sleek metal walls and a single reinforced door. I'm lying in a hospital bed with thin sheets.

My chest feels tight as I sit up, the pain in my back and leg flaring instantly, reminding me of everything that has happened. My hand instinctively goes to my side, where the bullet had hit, but instead of blood, i feel bandages. My breathing hitches as i look down at myself.

The clothes weren't the same jeans and shirt I was wearing before, no. These were unfamiliar, an all black uniform that was tight and restricting. My heart pounds in my chest as I take in the rest of the room. It's empty, cold, and impersonal. There were no windows, just that single reinforced door. 

A camera blinks in the corner, its lens trained directly on me.

I scramble to swing my legs over the side of the bed, but as soon as my feet hit the floor, a sharp pain shoots through my calf. My leg gives out, and I barely catch myself on the edge of the bed. I bite back a scream, clenching my teeth so hard I feel they just might crack.

This isn't happening. This CAN'T be happening.

The door hissed open and I whipped my head towards the sound. Two men in black tactical gear step in, their faces covered by masks. 

"Subject is awake," one of them says into an earpiece. His voice was cold and it made me wince."We're bringing her to the holding area."

Holding area? My pulse races as panic claws at my chest. "Wait," I manage, my voice trembling. "Where am I? What do you want from me?"

They ignore me, stepping closer. One of them grabs my arm, his grip like iron, and I flinch. "Don't touch me!" I snap, yanking my arm away, but it's no use. He grabs me again, tighter this time, and hauls me to my feet. My injured leg buckles beneath me, and I cry out as white-hot pain explodes through my body.

"Move," the other man barks, shoving me forward.

I stumble, barely catching myself on the wall, and they drag me out of the room. The hallway is just as cold and sterile as the room was, with walls that seem to stretch endlessly in both directions. My bare feet slap against the metal floor as I limp along, my breathing ragged.

"Please," I say, my voice cracking. "I don't know what you think I know, but you've got the wrong person."

Neither of them responds. My mind races, trying to put together how I got here. The forest, the helicopter, the bullets. I can still hear the gunshots echoing in my ears. 

And then I glance at the guards uniform, a blood red octopuses with a circle forming around it. I know it. I've seen it, but I couldn't believe it. Hydra. 

Oh God. Hydra.

I thought we'd dismantled them. I thought they were done for. I thought of the Avengers. my team—had taken care of this.

My team. The words sting, and I push the thought away. They're not my team anymore. I left. I had to leave.

The thought of them sends a fresh wave of pain through my chest. I never even told anyone why I left. They were my friends, and I just disappeared. They probably hate me now.

The guards stop in front of a heavy metal door, and one of them punches in a code on the keypad. The door slides open with a hiss, revealing a small room with a single chair bolted to the floor. Restraints dangle from the armrests. My stomach twists violently.

"No," I whisper, trying to back away. "No, no, no—"

The guards shove me inside, and I stumble, barely staying upright. One of them forces me into the chair while the other secures the restraints around my wrists and ankles. I thrash against them, but it's useless. The straps are too tight.

"Please," I beg, my voice breaking. "You don't have to do this. I don't know anything!"

The guards step back without a word, and the door seals shut behind them, leaving me alone. I pull at the restraints until my wrists are burned with pain, tears streaming down my face.

The sound of footsteps echoes outside the door, and my breath catches. A moment later, it slides open again, and a man walks in. He's tall and thin, with slicked-back hair and a sharp suit that looks out of place in this room. His smile is thin and humorless, and his eyes glow with something that makes my skin crawl.

"Ah," he says. "You're awake. Good. That makes things easier."

I glare at him, my hands balling into fists despite the restraints. "Who are you? What do you want?"

He tilts his head, as if amused by my defiance. "You don't remember me?" He steps closer, his hands clasped behind his back. "I suppose it's been a while since you and your little team thought you destroyed Hydra. But I remember you, Y/n. I've been waiting a long time for this."

His thick Russian accent makes my blood run cold. He knows my name. He knows who I am.

"I don't know anything," I say, my voice shaking. "Whatever you're looking for, I can't help you."

His smile widens, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Oh, I think you can. You see, we're very interested in the Avengers. Their plans, their weaknesses. And who better to provide that information than one of their own?"

"I'm not with them anymore," I snapped. "I left. I don't know anything."

His expression hardens. "We'll see about that."

He nods to someone behind me, and before I can react, a jolt of electricity courses through my body. I scream, the pain is blinding. When it finally stops, I'm slumped in the chair, my breaths coming in shallow gasps.

"Shall we try again?" he says, his tone cold. "Tell me what you know, and this will all be over."

I lift my head, glaring at him through the tears in my eyes. "Fuck you..."

His smile returns. "Oh, my dear, you'll wish you hadn't said that."

Another wave of electricity rips through me, and I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. My whole body trembles as the current finally stops, leaving me gasping for air. The man (I still don't know his name) circles my chair.

"You're being quite difficult," he says, checking his watch as if this is just a minor inconvenience in his day. "I had hoped we could be reasonable about this."

"I already told you," I manage between ragged breaths, "I don't know anything. I've been gone for years."

He stops in front of me, his eyes gleaming. "Ah yes, your mysterious disappearance. Tell me, does your mother still live in that lovely little house on Maple Street?"

My heart stops. "What?"

"Number 247, isn't it? The blue one with the white trim? She's always tending to those beautiful rose bushes in the front yard."

"Don't-" The words catch in my throat as panic claws at my chest. "Leave her out of this!"

"That depends entirely on you, my dear." He leans down, his face inches from mine. "Your mother's safety is in your hands now. All you have to do is cooperate."

Tears burn in my eyes as memories of Mom flood my mind. Her warm smile, the way she always smells like vanilla and coffee, how she used to wait up for me after missions even though I told her not to. I left to protect her, to keep her safe from all of this. And now...

"I..." My voice breaks. "I can't tell you anything. I don't know their plans anymore. I don't even know where their new base is."

He straightens up, straightening his already perfect tie. "Perhaps we're approaching this from the wrong angle." He starts pacing again, each click of his shoes against the floor making me flinch. "You see, while your old information might be... outdated, you could always get us new intelligence."

My stomach drops as I realize what he's suggesting. "No. No way."

"Think about it," he continued as if I hadn't spoken. "You return to the Avengers, tell them some sob story about where you've been. They'll welcome you back with open arms, they're sentimental like that. And then..."

"You want me to spy for you?" The words taste like poison in my mouth. "I won't do it. I won't betray them like that."

"No?" He pulls out his phone, tapping the screen a few times before holding it up. It's a live video feed of my mom's house. She's right there, watering her roses just like he said. My chest tightens painfully.

"You seem to be under the impression that you have a choice in this matter, dear." His voice is ice cold now. "Either you agree to our terms, or something very unfortunate might happen to dear mother."

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to think through the fog of pain and fear. The team would never trust me again if they found out. But my Mom... I can't let anything happen to her. I can't. She's already been through too much.

"Tick tock," he says, putting the phone away. "What's it going to be?"

A sob catches in my throat. "Fine," I whisper, the word feeling like acid on my tongue. "Fine, I'll do it. Just... just promise you won't hurt her."

His smile makes my skin crawl. "Excellent decision. You see? Cooperation makes everything so much simpler." He nods to someone behind me again, I wait for another shock to pass through me but this time there's no electricity. Instead, the restraints click open.

"We'll get you cleaned up and briefed on the details of your mission," he says as I rub my raw wrists. "I trust you understand what's at stake if you try anything... unwise?"

I nod numbly, my whole body feeling heavy with shame and defeat. "I understand."

"Perfect. Welcome to Hydra, Agent Y/N."

The words ring in my head as two guards help me to my feet. As they lead me out of the room, I can't help but think about what I'm about to do, about how everyone's gonna react when I show up after years of silence. Will they be happy to see me? Angry? Suspicious?

They should be suspicious. I'm about to betray everything we fought for, everything we believed in. But what choice do I have? My Mom's life is worth more than my loyalty, more than my conscience.

I just hope that someday, if they ever find out the truth, they'll understand why I did it. And maybe I can find a way to warn them without putting my Mom at risk.

But for now, I have to play my part. I have to become the very thing we spent years fighting against.

I never wanted any of this.

The guards stop at another door, this one leading to what looks like a medical bay. My leg throbs with every step,

they help me onto an exam table, I close my eyes and try to remember the last time I saw everyone. We were all so happy then, celebrating about something I couldn't quite remember. If only I'd known it would be the last time.

Now I'm going to see them again, but everything will be different. I'm not their teammate anymore. I'm the bad guy.

And the worst part? They won't even know it.

A doctor in a white coat examines my wounds like I'm some kind of specimen rather than a person. I wince as she changes the bandages on my back and leg.

"The bullets missed any major arteries," she says, not to me but to the guard standing by the door. "She'll be combat-ready within a week."

Combat-ready. The words make me want to throw up. I'm twenty-three now, not the same eighteen-year-old who used to charge into battle without a second thought—

"Here," the doctor hands me some pills, pulling me out of my thoughts. "For the pain."

I take them without question. At this point, what's the worst they could do to me that they haven't already threatened? 

After the medical check, they escorted me to another room, this one actually has a bed and a small bathroom attached. It's not exactly luxury accommodation, but it's better than the cell I woke up in. My 

new prison, I guess.

"Get cleaned up," one of the guards says. "The Director wants to see you in an hour."

The door locks behind them with a heavy click. I limp to the bathroom and catch my reflection in the mirror. God, I look awful. My face is pale and drawn, dark circles under my eyes making me look dead inside and more vulnerable than I feel. There's dried blood matted in my hair from when I hit the ground.

The hot water from the shower stings my wounds, but I welcome the pain. It helps me think clearer. As I wash away the blood and dirt, my mind races through possible scenarios. Maybe I could warn the team somehow, leave them clues... but no, Hydra would be watching my every move. One wrong step and my mom pays the price.

Mom. My throat tightens as I think about her. Does she even know I'm missing? Does she still wait up at night, hoping I'll finally come home? I left to protect her from exactly this kind of situation, and now I've put her in more danger than ever.

I punch the shower wall, immediately regretting it as pain shoots through my knuckles. "Stupid," I mutter to myself. "So fucking stupid."

————

When I step out of the bathroom, there's a new set of clothes waiting on the bed, black tactical gear similar to what the guards wear, just less armor. The sight of it makes my skin crawl, but I put it on anyway. It fits perfectly, which means they've been planning this for a while.

Just as I got done, the guards returned to escort me to the Director's office. Every step sends shooting pains through my leg, but I force myself not to limp. I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me weak.

We walked for what felt like forever before stopping in front of a shiny silver elevator. One of the guards reached out and pressed the button, and the doors slid open with a soft ding. Before I could even step inside, another guard shoved me forward, muttering something about me being too slow. I mumbled a curse under my breath, but they either didn't hear me or didn't care.

The silence inside the elevator was deafening. I tried not to look at the guards, keeping my eyes on the numbers lighting up above the doors. They ticked up slowly, floor by floor, and I counted them in my head. Ten. We stopped at ten.

The Director's office is different from the rest of the base, it's actually decorated, with dark wood furniture and books lining the walls. He's sitting behind a massive desk when we enter, still in that perfect looking suit. 

"Ah, Y/N. Much better," he says, gesturing for me to sit in one of the chairs across from him. The guards stay by the door. "I trust the medical team took good care of you?"

I don't answer, just stare at him with what I hope is a defiant expression. Just looking at him makes my blood boil.

He sighs, like I'm a difficult child. "We're going to be working together now, Y/N. A little cooperation would make things much easier."

"Just tell me what you want me to do," I say through gritted teeth.

"Straight to business then." He pulls out a tablet and slides it across the desk to me. "This is your cover story. Memorize it. As far as the Avengers will know, you've spent the last couple years doing humanitarian work in remote areas, helping people affected by the avengers. It explains your absence and your lack of contact."

I pick up the tablet, scanning through the detailed backstory they've created. It's good, technically true in some parts, which will make it more believable. They've even included photos of me in various locations, obviously photoshopped but convincing enough.

"When do I leave?"

"Tomorrow morning. We'll drop you near the compound and you'll make your way there on foot, looking appropriately distressed." He smiles that cold smile again. "Don't worry about the security systems. We have ways of ensuring you'll make it inside."

My hands clench around the tablet. "And what exactly do you want me to find out?"

"Everything. Their protocols, their weaknesses, their plans. But most importantly..." He leans forward, his eyes gleaming. "We want to know about their new recruits. The ones they've been training in secret."

New recruits? That's news to me, but I keep my face neutral. "How often do I report back?"

"You'll have a contact in the city, details are in the tablet. Weekly meetings, more if you have urgent information." He stands up, walking around the desk to stand next to me.

"And Y/N? Remember...we'll be watching. One wrong move, one hint to your old friends about what's really going on, and your mother..."

"I get it," I snap, standing up despite the pain in my leg. "I won't mess up."

"See that you don't." He nods to the guards. "Get her something to eat, then make sure she studies that cover story. Tomorrow's a big day."

As they lead me back to my room, my mind is already working overtime. If there really are new recruits, that means the team is expanding. New faces I won't know, new dynamics to navigate. And somewhere in all of this, I have to figure out how to feed Hydra enough information to keep Mom safe without actually helping them destroy everything.

The guards bring me food, actually decent food, not prison slop and leave me alone with the tablet. I spend hours memorizing every detail of my fake life for the past couple of years, all while trying to ignore the voice in my head that keeps whispering "traitor."

When I finally lie down to sleep, I can't help but wonder what everyone back at the compound is doing right now. Do they ever talk about me? Did they look for me when I disappeared? Will they see through my lies tomorrow?

I guess I'll find out soon enough.

Rolling onto my side, I stare at the wall until my eyes burn. Tomorrow, I go home. But it won't really be home anymore, will it? It'll be just another mission, another lie.

I close my eyes, but sleep doesn't come. All I can see is their faces, my once friends, my family, and all I can think about is how I'm about to betray them all.

I tell myself that they'll understand. But deep down, I know they never will. And maybe they shouldn't.

Because tomorrow, I will become what we fought against.

Tomorrow, I will become the enemy.

———————

Word count: 3670

Thank you for reading the first chapter of this story. I really appreciate it! Hope you are all doing well. This is my first post here so please be kind :)

A/N: I am new to tumbler so I apologize in advance if my post are a bit messy, I’m currently trying to make it so my post are more organized whenever I do upload. Ty!

[fanficsfreeideas]

"Heavenly Harem Hassles"

alastorshippermonth day 17 unwanted harem - ship Adam/St.Peter/Emily/Alastor

The day Alastor was redeemed and brought to Heaven was the most unexpected and, he’d soon discover, the most perplexing day of his afterlife. Gone was the Radio Demon; in his place was a newly minted angel of nature, complete with a gentle aura and vines that curled delicately around his antlers. His red suit was replaced with a shimmering robe of light green and gold, and his once sinister smile had softened into something that made the other angels swoon.

At first, Alastor was annoyed. A nature angel? His pride stung at the idea of being the celestial gardener or something equally mundane. But he quickly settled into his role, finding peace among the heavenly gardens, marveling at their beauty. And for a short time, he was left alone, happy to tend to plants and enjoy the tranquility. But tranquility was short-lived in Heaven.

It started small. He noticed one of the angels, Emily, standing behind a tree watching him, her face with a hint of yellow every time he looked her way. Soon after, Adam showed up, lingering just a bit too long whenever he passed by. Then St. Peter, with a shy smile, began appearing with little gifts—a handcrafted bracelet, a wooden comb, and a small wreath of lilies. And all of them had the same look in their eyes, a look Alastor was quite familiar with…

“What’s going on?” he muttered to himself one morning, looking over his shoulder to find half a dozen angels pretending not to stare at him from a distance. It became even more obvious when one of Lucifer’s brothers, Raphael, approached him in the garden, a little flushed but managing a confident smile. “Alastor,” he said, his voice soft, “would you… perhaps like to join me for dinner tonight?”

Before Alastor could respond, Emily appeared out of nowhere, shooting Raphael a fierce glare as she marched over to Alastor’s side. “I was just about to ask him the same thing, actually,” she said, her voice almost a growl. Alastor raised an eyebrow, looking between them in confusion. “I… I’m flattered, really, but—”

“Oh, Alastor, don’t let them pester you.” St. Peter showed up, a frown on his face as he gently pushed Raphael and Emily aside, crossing his arms in a surprisingly possessive stance. “Surely, you’d rather spend time with someone who can show you around Heaven properly.” The scene quickly escalated. Adam, sensing the tension, moved to Alastor’s other side, smiling confidently as he took Alastor’s hand. “Ignore them,” he said with a wink. “You want to go with me, don’t you, Alastor?”

Alastor’s head was spinning. He looked from one angel to the other, all of whom seemed to be glaring daggers at each other. This was not what he had expected redemption to feel like. He’d gone from being feared to... being the subject of a celestial tug-of-war. “Excuse me,” he said, clearing his throat. “What exactly is going on here?”

But his question went unanswered as Emily yanked him by the arm, pulling him away from the others. “He’s more comfortable with me!” she declared, her eyes blazing. “He needs someone gentle, someone who can appreciate his sensitive side.” “Sensitive side?” Adam scoffed, grabbing Alastor’s other arm and tugging him back. “Please! Alastor wants someone who can show him a good time, not another flower crown!” “Oh, is that so?” St. Peter growled, pushing himself between the two of them and grabbing Alastor’s wrist possessively. “I think Alastor deserves someone who respects him for his inner strength!”

In a matter of moments, Alastor found himself being pulled in every direction, each angel vying for his attention. It was like a battlefield of affection, each angel trying to outshine the others. Raphael had even drawn his sword, declaring dramatically that only he was worthy of Alastor’s love. Finally, Alastor had had enough. With a deep sigh, he yanked his arms free and raised his hands. “Alright! Enough!” His voice boomed, the tone carrying a surprising weight. The angels immediately fell silent, looking at him with wide, adoring eyes.

He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s… just be friends, alright?” “No!” they chorused, all looking aghast.

Alastor sighed heavily. He missed the days when people feared him. Now he was... cute? Endearing? The very idea was mind-boggling. But their faces were filled with such determination, and he could already feel them gearing up for another round of competition. “Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “How about this? I’ll marry all of you if it means I can have even a moment’s peace!”

The angels glanced at each other, stunned by his declaration. For a moment, a silent understanding seemed to pass between them, and then they all nodded in agreement. Alastor’s shoulders relaxed, but just as he turned to leave, muttering something about needing a breather, Adam stepped forward with a smirk. “Ah, ah, ah. Alastor, if you meant it, you’ll shake on it!” Before he could react, Adam grabbed his hand, and, on his other side, Emily quickly took his wrist, grinning victoriously. St. Peter, not to be outdone, managed to clasp his hand as well, sealing the “deal.” Alastor blinked, bewildered, as he realized he’d just been cornered.

Raphael, seeing the others’ triumph, stomped away, sulking as they muttered curses under their breath. Raphael had lost Alastor, and Emily, Adam, and St. Peter looked at each other with satisfied smirks, each knowing they’d won this unusual battle. Alastor, meanwhile, stared down at his hands and then at the trio. He wanted to scream, laugh, or maybe even throw himself into the nearest cloud and disappear. Instead, he let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head with a reluctant smile.

“So this is redemption, then?” he asked, mostly to himself. Emily beamed up at him, her eyes twinkling. “And now you’re ours, Alastor.” Adam chuckled, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Yup. Get used to it, Bambi.”

St. Peter simply smiled, a soft look of contentment in his eyes as he took Alastor’s other hand. Alastor groaned, but he couldn’t help the faint blush that crept onto his face. Perhaps, he thought, he could learn to live with this strange, unexpected outcome—if it meant he could finally have some peace.

[vallxlkzal]

Need.

(tw: evil Detecive n' beaten Wally in Waldo's body 🤧)

💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔

— You will bitterly regret what you have done.

Wally stiffened, expecting another blow to his cheek, but instead his head was lifted by his chin and looked into his eyes. Wally also looked back with teary and half-covered eyes that burned with pain and tears, because this crazy Detective did not let go, did not stop hitting and interrogating. He did not stop indulging in some of his own sick thoughts, whispering to sneakily press Waldo into the ground even harder. Even harder, even more fiercely.

Something about some murders, about a dead Wenda... What the hell is going on here?

— But I didn't do anything, really... I want to go home... — Wally whimpered faintly, unable to even speak normally because of something unknown that the man had injected him with. Instead of pity, the Detective felt only more rage. And some other strange feeling that made him want to hurt this striped creature even more. Something on the level of insane addiction, inadequate, painful passion. And a desire for death, obviously.

Waldo did not admit to anything. It made the Detective angry, infuriated. Waldo also cried. It entertained. To a certain extent. He was also weak and frail. It was... exciting. Lustfully.

How could the Detective possibly know that it was not Waldo, but Wally Waldini, because they looked so much alike. You couldn't tell the difference. And there's no need to. To hell with it. The Detective saw only the serial killer he had been chasing for so many years, not a cartoon character or a book character. A serial killer who had been beaten up and pumped full of tranquilizers. This bastard was no longer smiling, not laughing madly, but was frightened and shedding big, too big even for him, hot tears that mixed with his blood and dirt.

Oh, that's the strongest tranquilizer the Detective ever had, and all that stuff was poured into Wally so that he wouldn't get away.

He won't, will he?

It is strange that the night lights around them are not flashing in fear and there are no other Waldo doubles. Perhaps this doppelganger got separated from his striped pack. And that's fine.

— You're under arrest, Waldo.

Wally opened his heavy eyelids, but he couldn't get a good look at his surroundings. He only remembered that it was a park, night, and some unknown man chasing after him and shooting. And he caught up. And he pushed him painfully to the ground. And he could not calm his very excited breathing.

— My name is... Wally Waldini, I'm not.. Waldo... — Wally groaned weakly in pain as the Detective pinned the striped creature's arms behind his back and cuffed his thin hands. For several seconds he held Wally's wrists too tightly until he finally let go.

Wally was scared and lonely in this alien universe. But most of all, he wanted to sleep. For a few seconds, he did indeed fall asleep, and lost sight of the predatory licking Detective.

The Detective was pressing his tall body to the ground with his foot and thinking about something. Should he increase the dosage? That would be lethal. It would be... fun.

But too easy. Waldo must suffer the way poor Wenda suffered before she died... Her terrible beating with a cane was imprinted in the Detective's memory as a painful wound, an incurable trauma for the rest of his life. All his life he sees the mutilated body of his beautiful late wife before his eyes and promises to repeat it with the killer. With Waldo. To repeat it twice as strongly and cruelly.

A tense hand tightens its grip on Wally's stick, and Wally tries his best to stay awake again. Wally is not human, not human at all. Rather, he is an unusual person. Just a funny slender and tall, striped creature from books and cartoons and someone's drawings. A primitive human tranquilizer works on him more moderately, not as harshly as on an ordinary, pixelated person. And the Detective is furious from this.

— Please, call Wenda, call Odlaw... Someone — everyone knows me and will confirm that I am not guilty of anything you are talking about... I'm begging you.

— Wenda? WENDA? You fucking...

One swing of the cane and a punch. That's a ridiculous impersonation of a punch.

Wait. Where's the punch?

The Detective tried again. And again. And again. The stick kept stopping in an invisible wall just a few centimeters away from Wally, and then not touching him, as if not giving the Detective a chance to do any damage.

"This fucking thing is protecting Waldo!" — the cop thought. Quite expected.

Wally closed his eyes in fear, but realized that his stick was not allowing him to be hit. It was nice and sweet, but it didn't seem to stop the angry man at all. He angrily turned Wally over on his back and grabbed him by the throat with his bare hands.

Wally tried to cover himself with his hands, but they were handcuffed. Normally, he would have easily untangled himself from this metal because he had survival skills in difficult situations, but now, when his body was not obeying and the situation was out of control, and the Detective was threatening and smiling madly, Wally was suffocating.

For the first time, he was scared, very scared. A little more and he would faint. Although his eyes darted from side to side in fright, and his hoarse cry tried to break through his thin throat, he was getting weaker.

This discovery intoxicated the Detective, captivated him. Waldo is mortal. Is he? Waldo is fucking mortal! Mortal...

The Detective's smile grew, and his heart seemed to skip a few beats. Even if it was just a double, it was still Waldo's double. Anyone can be caught. Anyone can be shot through the head. No. No... Everyone can be tortured in different ways. Everyone will die in different ways, but at the same time in a terrible way.

And the Detective finds himself stealing the last crumbs of air from "Waldo" with his cruel kiss. Bites his plump lips, which will never smile vilely again. Licks his blood, which will never again saturate this skinny body with life and the thirst for killing.

Waldo wanted this. Why is he not enjoying it now, but dying in panic? Why is there no calmness and painful frenzy in those red eyes, as there was before? Instead, there is fear. And this fear is more visible and greater than the one the Detective saw that day in the restaurant.

A little more...

A blow. Now a real, strong blow from Wally's magic stick, which hit the Detective on the head and thus made the man lose consciousness for a while, saves his owner.

The frightened Wally gradually sits up, eagerly catching air with his mouth. Fortunately, this was enough time to take off his handcuffs, take a stick and, leaning on it, try to walk away. The world around him was bending into some kind of frantic spiral, blood dripped from his broken lips and nose, and before his eyes stood a nasty pixelated kaleidoscope of a universe Wally had never seen before. It was unpleasant and made him want to vomit.

Waldini had just been kissed to death, with such hatred, with such lust, that it was incredibly scary and somehow even a little disturbing. Who was this Waldo who drive the strange Detective to such a crazy? Sometimes Wally was also called "Waldo," but he corrected them in time. This strange name was given to him by other people. And no one knows why.

— Oh, my stick, what he gave me... — the striped creature whimpered, wiping blood and tears with a dirty sweater sleeve. His glasses seemed to be cracked, but at least they weren't broken.

Wally took one last look at the man lying on the ground. He seemed to wake up and jumped to his feet.

— Stop! Fucking Waldo, stop!

With a heavy exhalation, Wally opened a portal to his world, crossing the pixel boundary and taking away the Detective's ability to even catch up, as the portal slammed shut in front of him. He didn't even have time to get his gun.

— I'm not coming back there again, — Wally said quietly to his stick and went to the bathroom to wash off all the dirt, both physical and emotional.

***

(Ukrainian version before translation, if anyone is interested in the original bruuuuuh 🤜🤜🤜🤜):

— Ти гірко пошкодуєш про те, що зробив.

Волі замружився, очікуючи нового удару по щоці, але замість цього його голову підняли за підборіддя і дивились в очі. Воллі також дивився у відповідь заплаканими і напівприкритими очима, що пекли від болю і сліз, бо ж цей шалений Детектив не відпускав, не припиняв бити і допитуватися чогось. Не припиняв потурати якимось власним, хворим думкам, нашіптуючим крадькома втиснути Валдо в землю ще міцніше. Ще дужче, ще лютіше.

Щось про якісь вбивства, про мертву Венду... Що взагалі тут відбувається?

— Але я нічого не робив, правда... Я хочу додому... — Воллі слабко скиглив, не в змозі навіть нормально говорити з-за чогось невідомого, що вколов йому цей чоловік. Замість жалю, Детектив відчував лиш більшу лють. І ще якесь дивне почуття, що змушувало кривдити це смугасте створіння ще більше. Щось на рівні безумної залежності, неадекватної, болючої пристрасті. І бажання смерті, очевидно.

Валдо ні в чому не зізнавався. Це злило, бісило. А ще плакав. Це розважало. Певною мірою. А ще був слабкий і немічний. Це... збуджувало.

Звідки Детектив взагалі міг знати, що перед ним зовсім не Валдо, а Воллі Вальдіні, бо ж вони так схожі. Не відрізнити. Та і не потрібно. До біса. Детектив бачив перед собою лиш серійного вбивцю, за яким ганявся вже стільки років, а не мультиплікаційного доброго героя чи персонажа книжок. Добряче побитого, перекачаного транквілізатором і тумаками серійного вбивцю. Не посміхався вже цей покидьок, не сміявся шалено, а налякано проливав великі, занадто великі навіть для нього, гарячі сльози, що змішувались з фого кров'ю і брудом.

О, це найсильніший транквілізатор, який тільки мав Детектив, і усю цю речовину було щедро влито в Воллі так, що тепер він нікуди не втече.

Не втече ж, правда?..

Як дивно лише, що нічні ліхтарі довкола них не миготять від страху і немає інших двійників Валдо. Можливо, цей двійник відбився від своєї смугастої стаї. І це прекрасно.

— Тебе арештовано, Валдо.

Воллі відкрив тяжкі повіки, але не міг гарно розгледіти довколишнє середовище. Він тільки пам'ятав, що це був парк, ніч і якийсь невідомий чоловік, який гнався слідом і стріляв. І догнав. І боляче притискав до землі. І все ніяк не міг заспокоїти своє збуджене дихання.

— Мене звати... Воллі Вальдіні, я не... Валдо... — Воллі слабко простогнав від болю, коли Детектив заломив руки смугастого створіння за спину і вдягнув наручники на тонкі руки. Декілька секунд він занадто палко тримав зап'ястя Воллі, поки, нарешті, не відпустив.

Було страшно і самотньо в цьому чужому всесвіт��. Але найбільше хотілося спати. На декілька секунд Воллі і справді поринає в сон, і впускає з уваги хижо облизуючогося Детектива.

Детектив притискав високе тіло до землі ногою і про щось думав. А чи не підвищити дозування? Це буде летально. Це буде... весело.

Але занадто просто. Валдо повинен страждати так, як страждала нещасна Венда перед смертю... Її страшні побої від палиці закарбувались в пам'яті Детектива болючою раною, невиліковної травмою до скону віку. Все своє теперішнє життя він бачить перед очима понівечене тіло своєї прекрасної покійної дружини і обіцяє повторити подібне з вбивцею. З Валдо. Повторити вдвічі сильніше і жорстокіше.

Напружена рука міцно стискає палицю Воллі, а сам Воллі з останніх сил знову намагається не заснути. Воллі не людина, зовсім не людина. Вірніше — він незвичайна людина. Просто веселе струнке і високе, смугасте створіння з книжок і мультфільмів, і чиїхось малюнків. Примітивний людський транквілізатор діє на нього помірніше, не так жорстоко, як на звичайну пересічну, піксельну особу. І Детектива це приводить в лють.

— Прошу, подзвоніть Венді, подзвоніть Одлаву... Кому-небудь — мене всі знають і підтвердять, що я не винен ні в чому з того, про що ви кажете... Я вас молю...

— Венді? ВЕНДІ?! Ах ти...

Один замах палиці і удар. Смішна пародія на удар.

Стоп. А де удар?

Детектив спробував ще раз. І ще. І ще. Палиця увесь час зупинялась невидимою стіною прямо в декількох сантиметрах від Воллі, а далі — не торкалась його, ніби не даючи Детективу і шансу завдати хоч якусь шкоду.

"Ця блядська річ захищає Валдо!" — промайнуло в голові копа. Доволі очікувано.

Воллі заплющив очі від страху, але зрозумів, що його палиця не дозволяє вдарити його. Це було мило і приємно, але розлюченого чоловіка, схоже, зовсім не спинило. Він зі злістю перевернув Воллі на спину і стиснув його за горло голими руками.

Воллі хотів прикритися своїми руками, але вони були закуті в наручники. В звичайній ситуації він би з легкістю виплутався з цього металу, тому що володів навичками виживання в непростих ситуаціях, але зараз, коли тіло не слухалось, а ситуація вийшла з-під контролю, та ще й якийсь Детектив погрожував і шалено посміхався, Воллі задихався.

Вперше йому стало страшно, дуже страшно. Ще трохи — і він втратить свідомість...

Це занадто нудно. Хоч погляд його налякано метушиться зі сторони в сторону, а хриплий крик намагається прорватися крізь тонке горло, все одно він слабкішає.

Це відкриття п'янило Детектива, полонило його. Валдо смертий. Невже? Валдо до біса смертний! Смертний...

Посмішка Детектива росла, а серце, здається, пропустило кілька ударів. Навіть якщо це просто двійник, то це все одно двійник Валдо. Кожного можна спіймати. Кожному можна пропустити пулю крізь голову. Ні. Ні... Кожного можна катувати різними шляхами. Всі помруть по-різному, але одночасно по-страшному.

І Детектив знаходить себе крадучим останні крихти повітря у "Валдо" своїм жорстоким поцілунком. Кусає його пухкі губи, які більше ніколи не будуть мерзенно посміхатися. Злизує його кров, яка більше ніколи не буде насичувати життям і жагою до вбивств це худе тіло.

Валдо ж хотів цього. Чому він зараз не насолоджується, а помирає в паніці? Чому в очах цих червоних немає того спокою і хворобливого шаленства, як раніше? Натомість — переляк. І переляк цей видиміший і більший навіть за той, який Детектив бачив того дня в ресторані.

Ще трохи...

Удар. Тепер справжній, сильний удар від магічної палиці Воллі, що самостійно вдарила Детектива по голові і таким чином змусила чоловіка втратити свідомість на певний час, рятує свого господаря.

Наляканий Воллі поступово присідає, жадібно ловлячи ротом повітря. На щастя, цього часу трохи вистачило, щоб зняти з себе наручники, взяти палицю і, спираючись на неї, спробувати піти. Світ довкола гнувся в якусь несамовиту спіраль, з розбитих губ і носа капала кров, а перед очима стояв бридкий піксельний калейдоскоп невідомого до цього для Воллі всесвіту. Це було неприємно і викликало бажання виблювати.

Тільки що Вальдіні цілували до смерті, з такою ненавистю, з такою жагою, що це було неймовірно страшно і якось навіть трохи тривожно. Хто був цей Валдо, який довів дивного Детектива до такого шаленства? Іноді Воллі теж називали "Валдо", але він їх вчасно виправляв. Це дивне ім'я дали йому інші люди. І невідомо чому.

— Ох, паличко, що він мені вколов... — скиглило смугасте створіння, витираючи кров і сльози брудним рукавом светру. Здається, окуляри теж потріскались, але хоча б не зламались.

Воллі востаннє подивився на лежачого на землі чоловіка. Здається, він прокинувся і підскочив на ноги.

— Стій! Блядський Валдо, стій!

З тяжким видихом Воллі відкрив портал в свій світ, переступаючи піксельну межу і відбираючи в Детектива можливість навіть наздогнати — портал зачинився у того перед носом. Навіть часу дістати пістолет не було.

— Я більше сюди не повернусь. Мені тут не сподобалось... — тихо сказав Воллі своїй палиці і пішов ванної, аби змити з себе увесь цей бруд як фізичний, так і від пережитого.

💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀

[goodnightmemes]

BONES SENTENCE STARTERS  /  s01e21 - s01e22

❛ All societies build monuments to their dead, to convince future combatants that it's an honor to die in battle. ❜

❛ Why do you have to be so cynical? ❜

❛ I'm not cynical. It's a necessary psychology of warfare. Heroes and villains. ❜

❛ I always found being shot at was a motivating factor. ❜

❛ You believe somehow he's still here watching? ❜

❛ I know you think he's a good man. That's enough for me. ❜

❛ I can't believe you took the bait. ❜

❛ It also could've been survivor's guilt. The guy who saved his life didn't make it. You can't imagine what it's like carrying that around. ❜

❛ They simplify these words for a reason. ❜

❛ Just wanted to keep you company, that's all. ❜

❛ I'm trying to be more sociable. You know? ❜

❛ You might be too close to this one. I just wanna make sure you stay objective. ❜

❛ I was doing it just fine long before I met you. ❜

❛ I'm your partner. Let me be your partner. ❜

❛ You come back from combat, it's still all over you. ❜

❛ They want war stories like they're entertainment. ❜

❛ Why can't you just leave him alone? He's got enough troubles. ❜

❛ It never should've happened like that. ❜

❛ If you got what you need, then why are you giving me such grief? ❜

❛ Do you always have to get the last word in? ❜

❛ Mistakes were made, obviously. ❜

❛ Nothing is that simple. ❜

❛ You want to make the world a better place? Try shutting your yap long enough to hear something other than the sound of your own voice. ❜

❛ Sight like that stays with you. ❜

❛ You have to think before you speak. ❜

❛ Men aren't like us. They're much more fragile and needy. The fact that they think we're the needy ones is a testament to our superiority. ❜

❛ I'm sorry, I can't let you do this. ❜

❛ I'm not asking for your permission. I was just kind of hoping for your support. ❜

❛ Let's just get this over with, all right? ❜

❛ I'm sorry. I need to create a distance from the victim. It's how I deal. ❜

❛ There was nothing I could do, you know? I swear. ❜

❛ Look, I run on sometimes, I know. I guess I think if I yell loud enough, maybe someone will listen. ❜

❛ I shouldn't have been there. None of us should've been there. ❜

❛ They're hiding something. ❜

❛ We need the truth. ❜

❛ I hate to say conspiracy, but, my peeps, we've got a conspiracy. ❜

❛ You know, whatever went down must've been pretty ugly. ❜

❛ Was it worth it? I mean, look at you. ❜

❛ You never talked to anybody about it? You've got to. ❜

❛ Well, it's nice to know somebody that wants to keep honor and responsibility alive. ❜

❛ Yeah, that whole "friends with benefits" thing, that's not happening. ❜

❛ How could something like this have happened? ❜

❛ A mistake was made. No one likes it. But you know what happens. ❜

❛ You will not disgrace us. ❜

❛ You will be held accountable. ❜

❛ I was just trying to survive. ❜

❛ You can be proud of him. ❜

❛ I would never have expected to see that. ❜

❛ I have to be uh, honest about myself. I have to be able to tell someone. ❜

❛ It's never just the one person who dies. Never. ❜

❛ We all die a little bit. With each shot, we all die a little bit. ❜

❛ Do you know the most common way of creating an identity? ❜

❛ I don't know what it means. I don't know what any of it means. ❜

❛ You gonna ask me some more questions about my childhood? ❜

❛ You wouldn't lie to me, would you? ❜

❛ Cops always think I'm lying. ❜

❛ What do I do? Pretend I never found this? ❜

❛ We decided to tell you the truth..and this is the truth. ❜

❛ Alright, listen. If this guy moves, shoot him with a tranquilizer dart or something. ❜

❛ You want to proceed rationally, correct? ❜

❛ I call every year on your birthday. You never pick up. ❜

❛ Take a hint. ❜

❛ Can I have this, please? ❜

❛ Same old [name]. Never met a rule worth breaking. ❜

❛ That's a little vague there. ❜

❛ I trust your instincts. ❜

❛ How do you like that? I guess a criminal nature runs in the family. ❜

❛ What else are you lying about? What else are you not telling us? ❜

❛ At first, I thought the worst thing was that they were missing. ❜

❛ You finally got to slap [name]. You've been wanting to do that for years. ❜

❛ Suddenly, no one cared where I was. I miss that. Someone caring where I am all the time. ❜

❛ So you describe someone to me and I draw them. That's the drill. ❜

❛ [name] put us together so I could charm you into telling me the truth. ❜

❛ Trust me. I got no more truth. ❜

❛ This is you being charming? ❜

❛ Does [name] really hate me that much? ❜

❛ She loves you. It'd be easier if she hated you. ❜

❛ Hate is a lot easier to deal with than love. Especially, disappointed love. ❜

❛ If you ever tell anyone - the police, anyone - you will be killed. ❜

❛ Maybe you saw someone. Maybe you saw someone who scared you? ❜

❛ If you keep bringing Chinese food in the middle of the night, we're both gonna get fat. ❜

❛ You've been thinking that your family is made up of liars and criminals. And that makes you feel lonely. ❜

❛ There's a story here we don't know yet. ❜

❛ What were your parents like? ❜

❛ You know - parents, um, they have secret lives. If they didn't, they wouldn't be parents. ❜

❛ This guy, he used to kill people. ❜

❛ Why did he attack you? ❜

❛ We were nuts about each other. Crazy in love. ❜

❛ Your father is a hard man. ❜

❛ I know who you are. Hey. I know. ❜

❛ Men like [name], he lies the way you guys take a drink of water. ❜

❛ Well, there's a story that tracks for me, but without evidence, it's - it's just a story. ❜

❛ You're the one that left me. You needed someone to blame. You chose me. ❜

❛ You're the one that gave up! You turned your back on me and you made yourself a new family. ❜

❛ I think I just became a vegetarian. ❜

❛ Before you decide anything, we should talk. ❜

❛ You'll never know the truth. You can't live with that. You can't live not knowing. ❜

❛ Sometimes people need to explain things to me, I guess. ❜

❛ You have to stop looking. You have to stop looking for me right now. This is bigger and worse than you know. Please stop now. ❜

[the-haunted-office]

Send 🍰 for my muse to say something they like about yours! :

Doom, about whoever she'd like.

(Sorry if I'm spamming, just tell me and I'll stop)

Send 🍰 for my muse to say something they like about yours!

Naturally, whenever Doom says something about one of the Atlantis guys, she must say something about the other as well. They are a package deal. Always have been. Always will be. No matter their marital status.

"Say something I like about Milo and Rourke, all right, well, there are plenty of things, given they're like, two of my closest, best friends and all. What's not to like about them? I guess I'll start with Milo?"

"MIlo is... or I guess I should say was a really nice guy. He's gone a little off the rails lately, started channeling me for some reason, and by that I mean, he's started setting fire to shit and just like, doing a lot of really crazy things. I don't know what his problem is, but someone needs to have a talk with him or shoot him in the neck with a tranquilizer dart or something."

"But anyway, outside of all that, Milo is one of the most genuinely nice... guys I've ever met. There aren't many out there like him, and I'm lucky to know him. I'm lucky to be his friend. I'm just... I want him back. I want him back to the way he was before. Can we have that, please? No more of this crazy shit? Where's my friend who'd go off on his goofy, geeky tangents about... you know... whatever he was going off on goofy, geeky tangents about! Language arts and things! What happened to all that? You mean to tell me that breaking up with his husband did all that to him? Seriously? Gimme a break."

"Now Rourke, he's like a gentle giant. And no, he's not stupid, despite what anyone says, despite what he thinks, and despite all those times I called him stupid, okay? He's not. I was projecting. I'm the one who's stupid. Not him. And if he's stupid, then fuck, what the hell are any of us doing here? Who's Milo? Who's Einstein? Who's Neil DeGrasse Tyson? Who's God? Because Rourke is like, he's building things! He's out there, outside the Office, building things! He took me to a black hole and told me all this nerdy stuff about it! Does he have any idea how- you know, attractive that is? How amazing that is? To not only know all those things, but to be able to just spit it all out on a dime like that? I wish I could do that."

"But eh, anyway, you know, those are just a few things I like about them. But I'd say, what I like most of all is that, they're my friends. They put up with my shit. And ah... yeah. They're cool."