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em1i2a3 · 24 days ago

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Send The Pain Below

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader

Summary: After you return from a mission severely injured, Bob can’t help but offer you as much help as possible.

Warnings: Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts cause Bob. Hurt/Comfort, Fluff (kind of?), Mentions of Injuries/Blood

Author’s Note: Hey y’all! I had this on my WIP list and wanted to get it out, this wasn’t a request I just randomly wrote this and literally didn’t have a clue on how to end it to be quite honest lol. But I didn’t want it clogging up my drafts, and the idea was good in theory.

Word Count: 4,859

The elevator doors of the compound slid open with a quiet hiss, and you stepped out like your body might give out if you stopped moving for even a second.

Your boots landed heavy on the tile, your limp was masked only by sheer willpower and the remaining adrenaline you had running through your veins. Every step sent a bolt of pain up your legs, through your hips, lancing into your ribs and shoulders like tiny barbed wires that threaded themselves deeper with each shift. You didn’t stop to breathe–because it felt like if you tried to, your ribs were going to break.

Throughout the entire ride up to your living quarters, you hadn’t been still for a moment. You paced the tight space of the elevator like a caged animal–shaking, twitching, trying to outrun the memory of the fight. The metal walls had felt too close, too quiet, too loud with your thoughts.

Now, in the open hallway, your ears were still ringing. All you could smell was blood and dirt–iron and ash clinging to your skin like a second, suffocating layer. You didn’t know if it was your blood or someone else’s. You didn’t want to try and figure that out though.

“Hey, I called medical, they’re waiting for you.” Bucky’s voice echoed from the living room. He knew you were coming. He had been communicating with you through your comms the entire mission, and he had gotten a call from the extraction team who gave him a heads up on the damage you had taken.

”I’m fine.” You muttered back. Your steps were stiff, bordering on robotic. Blood had soaked through the fabric at your waist and dried in large dark patches. You were grateful you wore black tactical gear, because if you didn’t it probably would’ve looked like you worked at a butcher shop. One sleeve was ripped open, revealing a long, nasty cut that ran from your bicep to your elbow, and your back felt like it had been slammed through a concrete wall–and it actually had, or at least maybe in your haze you had convinced yourself that happened.

It was your first solo mission. A simple infiltration, Valentina had said. The mission description screamed that it was going to be quick and easy, you had planned it out so much, and you did everything right.

But it hadn’t been enough.

You rounded the corner into the living room, and all the conversations and commotion died instantly.

“Holy shit, Y/N.” Yelena said under her breath, getting up from the couch. You continued to drag yourself towards the washroom, ignoring the comment.

”Y/N, you’re not fine kid, come on–let’s not try to act tough right now. You need to go see medical.” Walker added, following suit with Yelena. You didn’t slow your steps, nor did you look back, because you knew if you stopped now you’d be glued to the floor, and you wouldn’t be able to keep moving.

You could feel the weight of their stares burning into your back as you made your way towards the washroom with one hand trailing the edge of the wall to stabilize yourself. Your vision was swimming–edges soft, depth distorted–but you knew this floor, this hallway, this layout, and thankfully you could walk it blind if your sight gave out.

“Y/N you’re literally leaving a trail of blood across the floor, this isn’t a walk it off type of situation here.” Ava commented, joining in on the pestering, her voice sharp and worried. Yet you still didn’t answer them, you just kept moving.

”Is she even hearing us?” Walker asked, his voice dropping an octave, then a door in the hallway opened and Alexei poked his head out of his bedroom, disheveled and confused from the commotion that was happening, tying his robe around his beefy upper body. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and right when he saw you there was an immediate look of concern that appeared on his face.

“Dorogaya,” He called gently, his brows pinching “You walk like dead woman.” You clenched your jaw hard enough at his words that it made your teeth ache.

“Let someone help, yes?” He added, his voice softer now, as if his words might land easier that way, “You don’t get glory for dying on your feet.” You felt your fingers curl slightly against the wall, but you didn’t trust your voice enough to respond–not with the heat gathering behind your eyes, not with the pain that was spiking again through your spine.

”She’s not listening to anyone,” Ava muttered behind you, voice tight. You didn’t hear the rest of what they said.

The voices behind you melted into background noise–blurred and echoing like they were underwater. You just kept moving. One foot in front of the other. Focused on the hall ahead, on the door you shared with Bob at the end of it. Your hand skimmed the wall, dragging along the paint like it was the only thing anchoring you upright.

The blood trail you left behind was uneven, smeared where your boot dragged slightly on the right side. You didn’t even feel the cuts anymore–not sharply, anyway. Just a dull throb beneath the surface of everything, like your whole body had been submerged in concrete and it was slowly starting to harden around you.

When you finally reached the door, you shouldered it open, and stumbled into the washroom. The light was too bright. The silence–too still.

You stood there for a second, just swaying feeling a wave of dizziness come over you. Then you slammed the door shut, and locked it, enclosing yourself in the small space you and Bob inhabited together.

Then it was just you.

You, and the sound of your breath–shallow, rattling, uneven, and crackling–shaking in your chest like it was a broken metronome. Now that you were alone you could also hear the light above you buzzing faintly, even though there was still a bit of bickering happening outside the door.

You moved stiffly to the switch for the fan and turned it on, letting the low hum kick in above your head. It vibrated in the walls, just enough to mute the sound of your breathing. Then you shuffled over to the shower, reaching in to turn on the hot water in one swift movement, hissing when your shoulder screamed out in pain. The pipes groaned slightly before water burst from the head, pounding into the tile like a rainstorm. Hot. Loud. And endless. Steam immediately began to fill the space, and that’s exactly what you needed–warmth, something to ease the pain that was about to come in full force.

All you wanted right now was solitude. You wanted to lick your wounds like an animal crawling into the shadows–quiet and wild and unwilling to be witnessed. You needed to hurt where no one could see it. Needed to unravel in private, where the grief could live without apology, and the shame could breathe.

You turned back toward the center of the washroom, your vision still swimming, limbs trembling slightly from the effort it had taken just to reach this far. The steam was already clouding the mirror, mercifully dulling the image of yourself–like even your reflection was sparing you the full truth of what you’d become.

You didn’t want to see it. Not clearly. Not yet.

Your fingers fumbled with the front of your vest, the fabric stiff and heavy with blood. It took two tries to get the buckle unclipped–your fingers were sticky and slippery, or maybe they were just numb–and when the strap finally gave, the release jolted your injured shoulder hard enough that your breath hitched through clenched teeth.

You pressed your lips together, hard, swallowing the sound before it could escape.

The velcro at your chest peeled back with a slow, wet rip, and the vest shifted. The weight of it–soaked through, dense and clinging–pulled down at your frame like it wanted to take you with it to the floor.

You reached up to shrug it off, and a bolt of pain exploded across your ribs. Your body locked up immediately, breath freezing in your lungs. For a moment, your knees threatened to buckle completely.

You caught yourself on the sink, gasping.

Your palm left a smear of blood against the porcelain.

Tears burned behind your eyes–not from sadness. From sheer, helpless agony.

Still, you didn’t cry. Not yet.

You stayed hunched over the sink, chest heaving, shoulders trembling with the effort it took just to stay upright. The pain was beginning to spike higher with each passing second–as if your body, now freed from the armor, had decided it was safe to let you feel everything all at once.

Your eyes flicked to the mirror again, just briefly. Your reflection was almost gone now, consumed by steam. Just a shape. Just a shadow of what was left of you.

You reached out blindly for the medicine cabinet.

The metal clinked as you opened it, and your fingers searched through the shelves with shaky, clumsy movements until they found the bottle. White cap. Red label. Tylenol.

It was something and it was all you had.

You unscrewed the lid with fingers that barely cooperated, spilling two pills into your hand. You didn’t have the strength to care about how many milligrams it was or if you’d already taken some earlier–which for the record, you didn’t. All you knew was that the pain had to come down–just a little–before you could finish what needed to be done.

You popped the pills into your mouth and chewed.

Bitter.

Chalky.

The taste coated your tongue like poison. It hit the back of your throat like ash.

You reached down, turned the faucet on with your uninjured hand, and leaned in to catch a handful of lukewarm water. You brought it to your mouth quickly, sloshed it back, swallowed hard.

The pills scraped down your throat like gravel.

You stayed there for a moment, hunched over the sink, your hands braced on either side. The water kept running. The fan kept humming. The shower roared behind you, thick steam curling around your legs, climbing your spine.

You wanted to rest. Just for a second, but you knew you couldn’t.

Not while you were still covered in blood. Not while your pants were still clinging to your thigh like a bandage made of fabric and failure.

You let the water run. You didn’t have the energy to turn it off.

Your fingers drifted down toward your utility belt next. You unclipped it slowly, fumbling with the strap at your hip until it loosened and slid free. The belt thudded heavily to the floor, landing beside the vest. It sounded final. Like a chapter closing.

Then came your pants.

You didn’t want to look.

You already knew what was underneath–your thigh had been burning since the moment you’d hit the floor in that alley. Your hip had felt wet and wrong the second the rebar tore your side open.

Still, you slid your thumbs into the waistband and began to shimmy them down—inch by inch. Pain flared instantly.

The cut across your thigh had stuck to the inside lining. As the fabric peeled away, it reopened with a slick, wet sound and a wave of heat that flooded your vision with white.

You gasped again, one hand grabbing the counter to stay upright. Your breath broke mid-exhale, and the sound you made was something just shy of a sob.

Blood rolled down the side of your thigh in a thin, fresh ribbon.

You stood there half-undressed and trembling, your legs streaked with red, your body steaming in the mirror’s haze, and your throat thick with everything you were still trying to hold back.

————————

Outside in the hallway, the team hovered like ghosts–uncertain whether to press in or give space, tense with the kind of helpless energy that made people argue just to feel useful.

Walker had his ear against the wall, arms crossed, one brow furrowed as he strained to hear through the sound of the water. “I think I heard her,” he muttered. “She made a sound…Not good.”

“I told you she should’ve gone straight to medical,” Ava said under her breath, pacing a slow, tight line across the hall. “We should just go in there.”

“No,” Yelena cut in, her voice quieter but far more final. “She locked the door. Let her have a minute.”

“You saw her,” Walker snapped. “She doesn’t have a minute, are we gonna break down the door if she passes out?!”

”No, I’ll just phase through and unlock the door you idiot.” Ava shot back, and before Walker could rebuttal, Bob’s door creaked open, causing everyone to turn their heads to look at him.

He stood in the frame like he hadn’t even realized they were all there. He was barefoot, dressed in a baggy dark grey scrub set, similar to the ones they found him in when they met him in the O.X.E Vault–when he had admitted he found them comfortable you had gone out and bought him a few pairs. His light brown hair was tousled, and extremely flat on one side like he had just peeled himself off his mattress. He looked like he had just rubbed out a decade of sleep from his eyes as he stretched.

”…W-What’s going on?” He asked, his voice slow and sleep-warm, like it hadn’t yet left the fog of dreams. He blink slowly, shoulders hunching forward slightly under the baggy scrub top. Walker turned to him first, running a hand down his face, exasperation cooling into something just a little more worried.

”Y/N is in the washroom,” Bob’s brows drew together in confusion, almost as if he was urging him to go on, “She came back from a mission looking like absolute hell–like barely walking and bleeding everywhere. She locked the door and hasn’t said anything to us since.” Yelena crossed her arms.

“She won’t let any of us in either…” Bucky said, as everyone began to exchange glances at one another, “But how about you give it a try?” Bob’s arms hung stiff at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling against the fabric of his scrub top, like his body was trying to move before his mind could catch up.

“…M-Me?” He asked, voice quiet–half-hoarse with sleep, half-tight with something else he hadn’t figured out how to name. His eyes flicked toward the washroom door, then back to the group, unsure. “W-Why me?”

Yelena was the one who answered. Calm. Certain. No hesitation.

“Because you’re her friend. And she trusts you.”

Bob’s shoulders twitched at the word–friend–like it didn’t feel big enough to carry the weight of what you were to him. It didn’t feel small either. Just…Not right. Not complete. Not everything.

“She listens to you…She likes being around you and she trusts you…” Bob looked down, jaw shifting slightly. His hands came up, one running across the back of his neck, the other tugging anxiously at the loose sleeve of his shirt. He could feel the familiar burn start to gather low in his chest–the one that always came with too many emotions pressing up at once, begging for escape.

He wasn’t good with being needed. He wasn’t used to being the person someone called for when everything fell apart.

But you’d never made him feel like a burden.

Not once.

Even when he couldn’t meet your eyes. Even when his hands shook too hard to pour water. Even when he curled up on the floor and told you he wasn’t sure if he was real. You stayed. You held his face in your hands and called him Bob in a voice that made it sound like that name had never belonged to anyone else. You were his calm…And now he needed to try and return the favour.

He swallowed hard.

“Okay,” He whispered,“I’ll try…Just…B-Back away for a second okay, or g-go down the hall.” The team scattered almost immediately, as Bob took one shaky breath and padded forward, every step louder in his ears than it should’ve been. He cleared his throat and knocked gently on the door.

”Hey…Y/N…I-It’s me,” He said, barely louder than the sound of the fan humming on the other side of the barrier between them. He pressed his hand flat to the wood, almost like he would be able to feel you through it, “I–I know you probably don’t want to s-see anyone right now…I get it, I–I do…But…” He faltered for a moment, glancing down the hall seeing the rest of the team watching him.

”B-But can I come in? Please?” There was a pause. A long one, but he didn’t move, he waited until there was a sign to either go, or come in.

And then–the lock turned.

His heart thudded, heavy and thick against his ribs, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

He pushed the door open slowly, the rush of steam hitting him in a wave. It curled around his ankles, ghosted against his chest, and painted the room in a blur of heat and wet air. The mirror was almost completely fogged, and the fan overhead did nothing to stop the fog from swallowing the space whole.

And then he saw you.

You were standing by the sink, half-turned, wearing only your sports bra and underwear. Blood was smeared down your leg in stark red streaks, tracing the lines of torn muscle and raw, reopened skin. Your shoulder was mottled purple and yellow, your arm wrapped around your ribs protectively like the pressure might keep something from falling apart.

Your face turned toward him when he entered. Slowly.

And even though you weren’t crying, not exactly, your eyes were glassy��rimmed with something bitter and deep, something that looked a hell of a lot like defeat.

“J-Jesus,” Bob whispered, the breath barely making it past his throat.

His stomach dropped. His hands clenched uselessly at his sides, eyes scanning every part of you like he didn’t know where to look first.

Your cheek had a shallow cut beneath the eye, already beginning to swell. Your lip was split. There was dirt caked under your nails, your hair was stuck to your neck with sweat and blood, and your expression–when your eyes finally locked on his–was exhausted in a way he’d never seen on you before.

You looked like you had fought through the end of the world and barely made it out breathing.

“Y/N…” He breathed, and for a second he couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. Couldn’t function. His throat tightened so sharply it almost made him cough. You shook your head slowly–once, twice–like each motion cost you something.

Bob flinched.

Not because you scared him, but because you looked like you were unraveling and still trying to hold it all in place. Because even just shaking your head seemed to hurt. Because you’d finally let someone in, and he didn’t know if he could be the person you needed, but God, he wanted to be.

He shut the door behind him gently, a soft click that sealed the two of you into that steam-filled quiet, then turned the lock. The air was thick, and his scrubs were already starting to cling to his chest, but he didn’t care.

His eyes were still moving over you–your thigh, your ribs, your face–and something in his jaw worked like he was trying not to cry for you.

“I–” He started, then stopped, trying again a second later “I know you don’t wanna hear it, but…M–Maybe we should go to medical, just for a minute. Y-You’re bleeding pretty bad and I–”

”No, Bob.” Your voice was sharp. Not cruel, but tired. Bone-deep tired. Your eyes were hollowed by it. “I don’t want to go. Don’t ask me again.”Bob’s lips parted. He froze like you’d slapped him with the words.

His hands came up instantly–palms out, defensive, the way someone does when they know they’ve stepped over the line. “Okay. Okay. I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–I just…”

His voice cracked, soft and breathless, and his lashes fluttered quickly like something was stinging behind his eyes. “I–I just didn’t know what else to say. I just–I wanna help.”

You didn’t answer right away. You turned back toward the mirror, wincing slightly, your weight shifting between your feet like even standing was a negotiation.

Bob took a step forward. Then another.

“C-Can we at least get you cleaned up?” He asked, voice gentler now. “Just… Just so we can see the damage a little better? I–I promise I won’t touch anything unless you say it’s okay…And I–I won’t bring up medical again…”

You blinked at your own reflection. Or rather, at the smeared suggestion of it–nothing but a shadow behind fog and grief and wet heat. Your throat bobbed, your lips parted, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the roar of the water pounding the tile behind you.

Then, slowly–like each movement had to be dug out of you one inch at a time–you nodded.

Just once.

Bob exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since the door opened. “Okay,” He murmured, so quietly it barely reached you. “Okay.”

He moved carefully, like you were a wild animal that might spook. His hands stayed visible, slow and shaking just slightly. His voice was raw and steady all at once. You watched him in the mirror as he stepped around you to reach the shower, his eyes flicking back to your face every few seconds like he was checking to make sure he wasn’t doing something wrong.

He pulled his scrub top over his head. His chest was lean and pale, the faint trace of old scars visible across his ribs. He didn’t look at you while he did it–he wasn’t doing this to be seen, only to be with you. To match your vulnerability. To show you he wasn’t going to ask you to do something he wouldn’t do beside you.

Then the pants went next, dropped quickly to the tile with a soft thund. He stepped into the shower in only his boxers, reaching up to adjust the temperature with a small frown, his brow furrowing as steam curled around him. Then, gently–so gently–it was his voice again.

“C’mon. I’ve got you.”

You turned, just barely, and let him take your hand. His fingers laced through yours so softly it nearly broke you. You stepped forward, and he guided you into the stream like you were made of glass and grief and things that couldn’t be named without breaking apart.

The moment your skin hit the water, the heat scalded into every nerve ending that had been screaming silently for hours.

You cried out.

Your knees gave out without warning, your body folding in on itself with a sudden, sharp gasp of pain.

“Woah–woah, hey, hey–I’ve got you–” Bob’s voice cracked mid-sentence as he caught you, his arms sliding around your waist and shoulder just in time to keep you from hitting the floor.

You collapsed against him with the weight of everything. Your cheek pressed to the curve of his collarbone, your ribcage shaking with shallow, broken breaths as the water soaked your skin, turning the blood on your body to long, diluted streaks that ran in ribbons down your legs, and floated around his.

Bob eased you down slowly. The tile kissed your knees, too cold beneath all the heat, but his arms stayed around you–tight, protective, and stable. He let himself sit with you fully, legs folding beneath his weight as he cradled you in his lap, one hand braced gently at your lower back, the other spread over your ribs, careful not to press too hard.

His chest rose and fell against your shoulder, each breath a little too quick, a little too uneven. You could feel his heart hammering, not with fear, but with something else–some horrible, aching emotion that had nowhere to go but into the way he held you.

You tilted your head up slightly–just enough to look at him.

And the look on his face made your breath catch in your throat.

Bob wasn’t crying. But his eyes were wet, the rims pink, his brows drawn in tight with something that looked like devastation barely leashed. His jaw was clenched, not out of anger, but because he looked like if he let it go, it would all fall out–every emotion, every worry, every broken piece of what this had done to him.

”Don’t cry Bob…I’m fine.” Bob leaned in closer at your words, his brows tightening even more–not with disbelief, but with something gentler. Something so heavy with care it made your chest ache worse than your ribs.

His forehead came to rest against yours, water beading and dripping between your skin, breath warm and unsteady against your lips. His voice was just a murmur, barely there beneath the drum of the shower.

“Please d-don’t lie to me…” He whispered, closing his eyes. “I c-can’t…I can’t see you like this and not do something, I–”

His voice broke completely then. And it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic or violent. It was quiet devastation—the kind that crumbled inwards, the kind that shook hands and pressed foreheads and curled arms around broken bodies in the dark.

And then something in the air shifted.

It was subtle at first–so small you didn’t register it until it started to crawl up your spine.

A hum.

Not from the fan.

Not from the pipes.

Not from the water.

From him.

From the center of Bob’s chest, where it pressed faintly to yours. A vibration–gentle, low, like the world taking a breath. It was warm. Not hot like the water. Soft, like standing in sunlight after a long, cold night.

Bob didn’t seem to notice.

His arms stayed around you, trembling slightly but strong, his breath hitching once more as he whispered, “I–I would take it if I could. I’d take all of it, Y/N. I swear I would…” You blinked.

Once. Twice.

Then the numbness hit.

It started in your cheeks, right under where Bob’s forehead rested against yours. A strange, tingling sensation, like static running under your skin—like the prickle of limbs falling asleep, but deeper. Warmer. It began to spread across your jaw, down your neck, over the pulsing ache of your ribs. You stiffened slightly in his arms.

“B-Bob…” Your voice came out thin. Cautious. “Something’s… wrong. I—I think I’m—”

You pulled your head back.

Just an inch. Just enough to look at him.

And that’s when you saw it.

His eyes–his eyes–weren’t the soft blue they usually were. They weren’t even shimmering yellow like when the Sentry burned through him, lit up and alive and untouchable. No, this was something else entirely.

They were light.

Not glowing with light–made of it.

Warm and impossible, like the moment just before sunrise. Liquid gold, honeyed and bright, but threaded with something deeper–something eternal. Like looking into a star too close. Like watching the sky open.

Bob didn’t even seem to realize it. He was staring at you like you had changed. Like something was wrong with you.

His brows furrowed suddenly, breath catching. “What the hell…”

You froze.

“What?” you asked, voice sharp and shaky all at once. “Bob—what is it? What’s happening?”

His eyes searched your face, wide and stunned and almost afraid to believe what he was seeing.

“Your face…” he whispered, “Y/N… it’s–”

He reached up–slowly–and touched your cheek.

His fingertips brushed the skin just below your eye, where the cut had been. Where the swelling had bloomed purple and raw. There was nothing there now. Not even the tenderness. Just heat from the shower. Just clean, unbroken skin.

“It’s healed.”

You blinked again.

And now that he said it–you felt it.

The pounding in your ribs was gone.

The throb in your thigh, the searing line from your bicep to your elbow, the burn from the rebar in your side—it was all gone.

Your body felt heavy, yes, but no longer from pain. Just from the realization.

You looked down at your arms, your legs, your skin, now mostly clean under the steady pour of water–and new. Whole. No dried blood. No open wounds.

You looked back at him.

“Holy fuck…You healed me…Is the…Is the Sentry back or something?” He shook his head in confusion.

”I–I don’t know…I didn’t e-even know he could do t-that to other people…”

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sqgeism · 1 year ago

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❥﹒ken sato x gender neutral reader

✦. synopsis — romantic headcanons about our favourite baseball player!

✦. love mail — i finished the movie and i loved his character development, simply the sweetest thing <3

✦. tags — SPOILERS, fluff, dadgirl kenji, kenji sato x reader, i have not written in several months, i wrote this w my brain off ( ´͈ ᗨ `͈ ) aka i was just SPITTING whatever brain rot came to mind

I imagine Kenji to be the clingy, but doesn’t want to be type. He loves you, so much, so dearly. But affection isn’t his strong suit, especially not after what happened with his family. He shut out emotions for years, at least towards others. So this feeling of love, a nostalgic one, tends to clash with the walls he’s put up. He’ll hold you in his arms, burying his face in your shoulder, only for hours later to cringe at himself. He’s talked to you about it a thousand times, and he’s listened to you reassure him twice as many. He adores your patience with him, it's something he’s never really had.. especially with so much pressure on his shoulders.

Explaining his identity was surely no easy feat, you thought dating the most iconic and popular baseball players was the hardest thing? Imagine dating Ultraman, who came home to you every other week with some new injury. You always wondered why the reason was so simple for such a complicated wound, “I spilled boiling water on myself,” He explains with burn marks that are far more severe than expected. “I fell down the stairs”, he’ll say after landing in the hospital.. It didn’t make sense. And now that it does and you know the true reasons, your concern is far worse. Though he doesn’t mind the extra attention you give. ;)

Meeting his dad for the first time was.. nerve-wracking. You know how Kenji talks about him, and you weren’t sure what kind of impression you’ll make. But here you were, sitting on a couch and fiddling with your thumbs until you hear a doorbell. Before Kenji could even stand, you rushed to your feet and practically sprinted for the door, only to open it slowly and gently to reveal the kind old man standing outside. “Hello.” Cut to maybe an hour later, you’re laughing at old pictures of Kenji as he sits next to you and an arm wrapped around your shoulder. The two had a long path of forgiveness and understanding ahead, but Kenji appreciated that you brought him and his father together.

Thought the dad was scary? Imagine his daughter. As expected, the moment you walk into the room - distress. Emi’s starting to cry, an unfamiliar presence is in the room and it scares her. You’ve done a few babysitting jobs here and there, and she was really just like a child. Kenji apologized for her outburst and transforms to calm her down, opening the lid and picking her up under her arms. “No no, don’t cry.” His voice soothes her, and almost immediately - she’s okay again. It’ll take a few minutes, it really isn’t long until she trusts too you. Kenji found it adorable, how you played with her so casually.. many would be terrified, and rightfully so - but to him? It just displays your kind heart. My God did he love you.

Remember first headcanon? Right, to add to that, he’s not very good at vulnerability either. He’ll love to comfort you when you cry, or hold you when you need him. But if the roles were reversed? Absolutely not. He’s uncomfortable and you can see it, one look into his eyes and it’s like looking through glass.. he hates being open about his true feelings. Even if it’s with you.. the walls he’s built for 20 years aren’t easy to break, you know? But if you’re patient, and you take your time and say the right words – he’ll crack. And like a dam breaking, the water flows in an uncontrollable wave of sadness. He’ll sob, he’ll break, and he’ll need you more than anything. He doesn’t know how to feel about breaking down, but the way you hold him in your arms and whisper sweet nothings to comfort him, he could get used to it.

But on a lighthearted note, he loves dates! Most have to be in his home, because Emi can be clingy (got it from his dad), but you don’t mind. It’s sweet, he’ll have you play baseball with her or all you do is cuddle ontop of her, it’s the cutest little thing. But other times, when you go out– it’s just the two of you. And upon special request from Kenji for Mina to babysit her while you're there, you two get alone time. and it’s everything to him. The smallest affection has his heart racing like a teenage boy again, wrapping your arm around his, holding his hand, kissing him? Goodness, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know it. You and Emi are his world, and he’ll do everything to protect it. Other days, you, him, and and his father go out to the home in the woods for some personal time. You get to talk about his childhood with him and you talk about yours. There’s such a tender and unforgettable atmosphere when you’re with them. And you truly feel like you belong.

Overotectiveness, he was full of it. He’s lost so much, and all he wanted was for you to not go either. Nothing, nothing could stop his rage at the idea of you being hurt. You, Emi, anyone else important to him. He’ll take on the world for his family, and by the will of his parents he has. The pain he’s endured, the scars you scold him for so much are for you. If one threat escapes the city, that’s one likely chance he loses you. So he does everything he can to handle it. You’ve never gotten hurt, but the idea of it is enough for him to strive to be stronger.

While recovering from the explosion, you never left his side. It pained you to see him so still, lack of life. He’d usually be pacing back and forth in the room, rambling about something, and when you’d call him a nerd or dork, he'd run to you and playfully attack you with kisses. His arms around you tightly as you two would laugh your worries away, you didn’t have that privilege. You’d either laugh alone or not at all, the pain all too much. When he wakes up, best believe you’re there, and you just cry at the sight of his arms opening. You know his body is far too unstable for a hug, so you squeeze his hand. How grateful you are to feel him squeeze back.

With Mina and Emi gone, the house feels a little more lonely.. but Kenji’s adjusting. Especially because you moved in! He’s able to spend more time with you in bed since he didn’t have to tend to Emi, which was a nice plus. He woke up earlier than you (force of habit.) and he’d just.. stare. Maybe it was a little creepy, but seeing you sound asleep in his arms gave him such joy. He loved the little domestic moments he shared with you, it had him appreciating all the smaller things in life. Like sharing a meal with you, or watching movies together. You made him love the simpler aspects of living.

#♡ — 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 #kenji sato #ken sato #kenji sato x reader #ken sato x reader #ultraman rising x reader #ultraman rising

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bachshot · 1 month ago

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Danger Zone

request: so happy to hear ava was your fav thunderbolt she was mine too!! Would you be willing to write a oneshot about fem reader who also heard about Valentina’s plan and came to save Ava, meeting John and Yelena a little before Alexei.

Ava Starr x Fem!Reader no warnings apply

thunderbolts spoilers ahead... kinda want to do a part two later on in the movie with some more fluffy y/n and ava moments + interaction with the other thunderbolts, lmk what you think!!

Y/N never trusted Valentina, what was happening right now was only more timber for the fire in the list of reasons why she really needed to quit her job. For the past few months she had been working as her personal security guard, something Ava wasn't exactly overjoyed to learn but the pay was cushy and so far Valentina didn't seem to suspect their relationship. Or if she did she hadn't said anything, whether that was better or worse they were unsure.

That being said the jobs Y/N was given were nowhere near the level of Ava's, instead being stuck accompanying Valentina to events and looking overall intimidating, so when it came time for Valentina to clean her hands of evidence it was unsurprising that Y/N didn't make the list.

But as she raced up this stupid hill to the facility atop of it she had one thought on her mind, 'i really need to quit this job', if Valentina’s awful attitude wasn't enough then trying to kill her girlfriend certainly was. Mel had spilled the secret plan to Y/N, a guilt filled moment of clarity where the words came out hard and fast unaware of Y/N's connection to Ava, but the subsequent words fell on deaf ears as the blood rushed to Y/N's head as all she could think about was Ava. It had been easy to convince Mel to help her, she always seemed to be teetering on the fence of supporting Valentina so all she seemed to need was a push, the girl managing to give Y/N top level access to scan into the building Ava was sent to but other than that it was all in Y/N's hands, any more meddling from Mel would quickly be spotted and stopped by Valentina. As much as she thought of Valentina and her assistant as one in the same, here Y/N had to reconsider her biases... But maybe not right at this second. The facility quickly comes into view as Y/N reaches the top of the hill, opening the door with the building's biometric system and groaning quietly to herself as it opens only to reveal more doors. She couldn’t help but feel she didn’t have time for this, knowing the incinerator Ava had been led into would activate any moment.

Luckily the feeling was short lived as Ava phased through one of the doors with a panicked look on her face, jaw dropping once she spotted Y/N their speech overlapping in a frantic exclamation of “you’re here!” and “what are you doing here?!”

Y/N shakes her head grabbing Ava’s arms, giving her a slight shake, “Valentina set you up! I came here to get you,” she explains, eyes scanning over Ava to check her over for any injuries, easily distracted and unable to hold back rambling a little despite the urgency of the current situation, “God, you look so good in that new suit by the way, but we need to get out of here, i dont know when the others are getting here but—“

Ava cuts her off with a chuckle, endeared by Y/N’s ability to give out a compliment alongside attempting to save her life (even if she’s definitely seen Ava’s new suit before and has told her that every time she’s seen her in it),

“they’re already here,” Ava informs her, glancing back to the door she just phased through, “and we just figured out Valentina’s plan…” she adds with some reluctance not wanting to diminish Y/N’s efforts. It’s then that Ava’s face drops from the tender smile she always had plastered on in Y/N’s presence, replaced by an expression of realisation as she cursed under her breath suddenly breaking from Y/N’s hold to turn to the lock pad next to the door. Y/N raises a brow as Ava presses the buttons, letting out a frustrated growl as she’s met with a harsh ‘access denied’, given Ava’s history Y/N felt kind of proud that she had managed to work with the others she was set up against. Ava wasn’t quick to trust with her past, and while Y/N understood the trust was probably fleeting and completely situational, something about seeing her working with others made her chest swell regardless. She made a note to tell her as such later.

“Let me try,” Y/N offers, arm brushing against Ava’s as she moves to stand next to her, assuming Ava’s access was removed the moment she had entered to stop her from being able to escape, but Y/N’s should still be in full effect thanks to Mel. The door opens, revealing the others inside who look almost surprised to see they had actually been freed, and Ava’s arm nudges Y/N’s in a silent form of appreciation however the moment is fleeting as flames begin to descend in the opened up room causing an explosion that continued on into the room they currently stood in.

By all means Ava could temporarily phase to avoid the blow but instead Y/N feels Ava’s hands on her chest as she pushes her to the ground bodies pressed together to stay low as the explosion blew over them, Ava's body blocking most of the blow from Y/N in a protective hold. It didn’t take long for it to end, Ava pushing herself up still straddling Y/N and looking down at her with a concerned look as she made sure she was okay… Y/N couldn’t help but think she wouldn’t mind this position in another setting, and maybe she subconsciously leaned forward at first seeing Ava’s face hovering above hers but could you really blame her? Aware however that it was not the time for that she didn’t allow her mind to wander further, stopping herself before she and Ava actually kissed but not before Ava had noticed.

“…Hey,” Y/N breathes out, a ringing in her ears and a dull aching in her head as she definitely hit it on the floor going down (and may or may not be a little concussed), causing Ava to shake her head in amusement as she pulls herself up from the ground and offers Y/N a hand.

“Hey yourself,” she replies smoothly, a teasing tone on her tongue egged on by Y/N’s antics, it looks like she’s about to say something else as her mouth opens again only to be interrupted by a gruffer voice to the right of the two. Y/N doesn’t really catch what’s being said, the ringing from the loud explosion still persisting in her ears but she can tell it’s something along the lines of ‘who the fuck are you’ causing both her and Ava to quickly whip their heads round looking towards a man in some kind of captain america-esque costume, Ava's stance hardening as she side stepped in front of Y/N to block her from the mans view. It was then Y/N remembered her and Ava weren’t alone, noticing a shorter blonde woman and another man with darker hair on the other side of the room slowly getting up, clearly just recovering from being blown away when the explosion had gone off. With such an interesting combination of people she would definitely be asking Ava for more details later, and knew absolutely no insults towards the other mercenaries would be spared, but for now as she felt Ava's hand protectively reach for hers and give it a thankful squeeze she was glad she had come here— even if it seemed Ava had already been capable of saving herself.

#ava starr x reader #ava starr #ghost marvel #ghost x reader #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #fem!reader #fem reader #fxf #fanfic #fanfiction #request #marvel fanfic #yelena belova #john walker #bob reynolds

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dexteri0us · 5 months ago

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i know i haven't been perfect, but give it some time; 'cause not a single day goes by where you don't cross my mind

pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: fluff, injuries (burns and cuts), louis greene, and you know... dexter's dark passenger

summary: requested: "dexter being super protective of you and when he finds out someone hurt you he immediately starts hunting him to kill him"

w/c: 5.5k

a/n: spoiler alert? it made me sad that dexter didn't get to kill louis, so here we go.

Louis is taking me to the hospital. Don’t freak out. Lab mishap.

You pressed send and the text appeared in a blue bubble, under it, there was a Delivered sign that quickly turned into Read.

Which hospital?

Jackson Memorial.

I’m on my way.

You didn’t really like it when people fussed over you. It felt unnecessary and only brought you discomfort most of the time. But this time, you couldn’t deny the relief knowing Dexter would meet you at the hospital.

“Who are you texting?” Came the voice from the driver’s seat.

You cleared your throat and shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “My boyfriend.”

“Dexter?” Louis asked with a feigned curiosity.

You couldn’t stand him anymore; he was such a fake asshole it was physically hurting you. And today was honestly the last straw.

You’d spent the better part of your morning setting up your experiment, testing your final samples. The data was supposed to solidify your findings and allow you to finish your thesis.

Everything was in place, your samples loaded into the centrifuge as you triple-checked everything. Everything. The protocol, the settings on the centrifuge, spinning the rotor with your hand, ensuring that it was balanced and the lid was closed tight.

Louis had been hovering all the fucking time. You had tried to ignore him, but you couldn’t exactly tell him to go fuck himself. The lab at your school was a shared space.

“You really think you’re going to finish today?” He’d mocked you. But that didn’t throw you off. You knew you were, because you were prepared.

But then you stepped away from the centrifuge for just five seconds to retrieve your laptop. When you returned, you put the laptop next to the machine and pressed the start button on the centrifuge, causing it to whir to life, the rotor spinning faster and faster. Then suddenly, a sharp, metallic clunk echoed in the room, followed by a horrific screech. The centrifuge rattled violently and the lid flew open. Glass shards and liquid shot out like shrapnel and you barely had time to shield your face with your arm.

The pain was instant. A jagged piece of glass sliced across your forearm, and a burning sensation spread where the liquid splashed onto your skin.

“Shit!” Louis exclaimed, rushing forward with exaggerated concern. “Are you okay?”

You just clutched your arm, blood seeping between your fingers. The burn on your forearm throbbed, angry red splotches already forming. Your vision suddenly became blurred with tears of pain and frustration combined, but you held them back. You were not going to cry in school.

The commotion drew others into the lab, including your supervisor. And of course, Louis was quick to throw you under the bus. And, okay, you weren't wearing your lab coat, but nobody really was if they did something as simple as loading samples into a centrifuge.

Your supervisor sent you to the nurse, telling Louis to escort you in case you got dizzy. The nurse bandaged your arm and sent you to a hospital for further treatment. Louis chimed in, playing the part of a kind and worried colleague, and driving you there himself.

“Yes; Dexter. He’s on his way, so you can just drop me off and head back to the lab.”

“Nonsense. I can't have anything else happen to you.”

Bullshit. He wouldn’t even blink if the shards had hit your carotid artery and you bled out right there. Who knows, maybe that had been his plan all along. Louis had it out for you and Dexter, his petty vendetta against you couldn't be more transparent.

“Louis, please.” You closed your eyes in exasperation, your eyes still burning from the tears that tried to push their way through. “I know that you messed with the centrifuge. I don’t have proof, so don’t worry. I’m not gonna do anything. But at least have the decency to stop pretending that you’re innocent.”

You saw his jaw flex and his knuckles get white from how he clutched the steering wheel, but he didn’t say anything. Frankly, you were getting uncomfortable being alone with Louis in the car, but luckily, the hospital came into view.

You tried to convince Louis to go, but he wouldn’t budge. He knew you hated his presence, and he reveled in the feeling that he was making you uncomfortable. You also had a hunch he waited for Dexter so he could provoke him too. He was like a lurking predator, leaning against the far wall, as the nurse gave you a sympathetic smile, adjusting the bandage on your arm. The burn cream was cool against your skin, but the sting of the injury sent vibrations through your whole arm.

The door opened, and your muscles finally relaxed. Dexter stepped in, his focused gaze sweeping the room. His eyes landed on you first, taking in the bandage on your arm and the nurse’s careful work. Then, his gaze flicked towards Louis.

Louis straightened up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Dexter, hey! Don’t worry, YN’s alright. I made sure she got here safe.”

Dexter ignored him. If he hadn’t, he might have done something… nobody here needed to see. There was going to be time for that to do it right. Instead, he made his way straight to you.

“Hey,” you said with a tired smile.

His hand reached out to cup your head, his thumb brushing your temple and over the edge of your eyebrow in a soothing manner as his other hand hovered over your injured arm, as if to make sure it was still attached. His brows were furrowed, his shoulders and chest stiff as if he was holding his breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Getting burned by an oven hurts more.” You tried to lighten the mood, but humor wasn't exactly his way of coping.

“What’s he still doing here?”

“I think he wants to steal you away from me.”

“YN…”

“I don’t know, Dex. He’s a fucking vulture, you know that. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t.”

You weren't even joking anymore; it wouldn’t surprise you if Louis had done this to get Dexter’s attention. Or get back at you for having Dexter’s attention. Louis had probably been obsessed with him long before you started coming to the Miami Metro’s forensics lab to work on your thesis. Louis, as a graduate and now a lab tech at your university as well as a senior intern at Miami Metro, was supposed to be your guide, to help you acclimate.

You had known Louis from school, and ever since he’d started working at Miami Metro, his ego had been bursting through the roof, so you hadn’t been so psyched when you’d found out you’d have to share a working space, but hey, what could you do. At least, he was genuinely eager to assist, proudly showcasing his knowledge of the lab’s high-tech equipment and Miami Metro’s most famous cases. But his favorite thing to do was name-dropping Dexter. Louis had never said it in those words, but Dexter was like a god to him.

“He’s a genius. Everyone here knows it. Stick with me, and you might even learn enough to impress him.”

You’d fought the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m here to work on my thesis, Louis. Not to waste my time.”

Louis had always been too loud, too close and most importantly, too self-important for your liking, and you’d thought back then already, that his admiration for Dexter bordered with obsession.

And when you finally met the famous Dexter Morgan, you were surprised how underwhelming it was. You actually expected another loud and arrogant scientist, but he was the exact opposite.

One morning, while you were struggling with the calibration of a piece of equipment, a calm and monotone voice spoke behind you.

“You’re off by a millimeter.”

You jumped out of your skin, closing your eyes to regain composure before turning around and finding Dexter with his hands in his pockets, just standing there. You hadn’t met, but you knew what he looked like.

“Fuck, thanks. Were you trying to give me a heart attack to keep me from using it? Jesus Christ.” You were still shaking off the jumpscare you just received.

“Sorry.”

“You’re good. Dexter, right? The guy who specializes in puddles.”

“Blood spatter analyst,” he corrected with a nod, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the lack of reaction to your joke. You introduced yourself and shook his hand, before he left without another word.

To him, you were just another in a parade of visiting academics, someone he’d forget as soon as your project ended.

Well, apparently, you liked to talk, making it hard for him to ignore you. It's not like you were targeting him specifically, you were just a naturally friendly person.

Vince's attention wasn't exactly hard to earn, especially if you were a woman, but Dexter noticed how you laughed even with Angel. Not that Angel was a touch-me-not, but it was still surprising to see you navigate the station with such ease, like a newcomer staking a claim in unfamiliar territory. You didn't force yourself into conversations; you didn't even have to. You had your own gravity around you, and people were magnetized to it.

“If you need something, Louis is your liaison.” He tried to brush you off one time, gesturing vaguely towards the open lab door.

“Oh, I know,” you replied, undeterred. “But Louis is busy explaining to someone how he’s basically the second coming of Einstein, so I figured I’d ask the real expert.”

But you didn’t wait for him to respond, taking the hint and leaving him alone. For now anyway. It made the corner of Dexter’s mouth twitch, but he caught himself and got back to his work. He thought about it for a moment before deciding that it would be suspicious if he was the only one ignoring you.

Over the next few weeks, you made a habit of dropping by his desk. At first, he found your presence… perplexing. You asked too many questions – some of them genuinely insightful, others just… so absurd. You often hovered just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be intrusive. And your sense of humor seemed to exist solely to see how far you could push him before he reacted. And to create a bond with his sister.

You and Deb shared that bark, and he didn’t know what to make of it. The sarcasm often rang through the breakroom, and while he wasn’t one to eavesdrop, one time he heard a mention of his name.

“Does your brother ever smile?” you asked Deb, leaning against the counter.

“Well, you know, occasionally.”

“Yeah, what’s the occasion? Winning the lottery? Accidentally putting sugar in his coffee instead of salt?”

His brows furrowed in confusion. Why would I put salt in my coffee? But unlike him, Deb laughed.

“More like when someone's bleeding out somewhere. You don’t even wanna see that, it’s creepy as hell.”

“He’s fascinating actually,” you said when you stopped laughing, taking another sip of your coffee.

Fascinating. Most people called him odd, socially awkward, or at best, smart. His victims called him sick or a freak. But fascinating was new. And unsettling. He didn’t particularly like being noticed, but he found himself not minding your attention. Dexter realized that when he came in on Louis scolding you for talking him.

“He’s not your friend or your assistant, okay?” Louis snapped at you, his voice rising in frustration. “I am. So, stop bothering him and do some actual work.”

Before you could respond, Dexter stepped in, his voice firm. “Woah, Louis. Thanks, but I think I can handle myself.”

“I’m just saying, she’s supposed to focus on her thesis—”

“And she is. I also don’t mind helping her.” He turned to you then. “At least, when she ends up working here, she’ll already know the ropes.”

Dexter wasn’t serious, he didn’t even know if you ever wanted to work in forensics. But to Louis, the words felt like a slap. For months, he’d bent over backward to gain Dexter’s respect, but he’d never earned more than a dismissive glance. And you just waltzed in, cracked a couple of jokes, and suddenly, you were like Dexter's personal pet.

It was clear he didn’t like how Dexter responded to you. You noticed how his behavior changed, becoming petty even at your university lab. It was like he was waiting for you to make a mistake while his jokes grew meaner, more passive-aggressive

However, Louis was still essentially a random guy. He wasn't your superior, so you didn’t let him scare you off. If he wanted to report you to your school, you had Vince's backing, and now Dexter's too, you hoped. You believed you hadn't done anything wrong, you still got your work done, so there was no reason to feel guilty.

That meant that you never limited yout contact with Dexter, who also grew more responsive over the time. You figured out that most of his laughter stemmed in ridicule, with his brows furrowed and looking at you like you were an alien which made a smile grow on your face, so you decided to lean into it. Did it make you look dumb? Yes. Did it make Dexter laugh? Yes in capital letters.

Deb was the one who finally pointed out what you had been trying to make painfully obvious for weeks.

“Jesus Christ, Dexter,” she said incredulously, smiling at him as if asking are you serious? “Are you blind, or just stupid?”

He looked up from the folder, his expression blank. “What are you talking about?”

“YN. The girl from the lab. She’s been flirting with you nonstop, and you’ve been staring at her like she’s a new blood sample. Do you even know how to human?”

His whole face scrunched up, going over your past interactions in his head. “She hasn’t been flirting. She’s just… talkative.”

Deb rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t sprain something. “Oh my God. You’re hopeless. She’s into you, Dex. And honestly? I think she’s kind of awesome. She’s smart, funny, and she’s got this great thing where she acts like an airhead just to see your face do that confused frown thing. It’s hilarious.”

Dexter’s frown deepened. “She does that on purpose?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Seriously, ask her out before she gets bored and moves on to someone who actually knows how to crack a smile.”

Weeks passed, and to Deb’s disdain, Dexter completely ignored her amazing advice. But she wasn’t one to sit idly by and she had had enough.

One afternoon, as you were bent over a microscope in the lab, Deb stormed in with an unyielding grip on Dexter’s arm.

“Hey, YN!” she said, her voice unnaturally cheerful.

“Uh… hey, Deb. What’s going on?”

She didn’t waste any time, her hold on Dexter's arm tightening as she shoved him into the room.

“Dexter has something he wants to ask you,” she announced, crossing her arms and giving Dexter an expectant look.

Fiddling with the pen in your hand, your eyes darted warily to Dexter, not really sure what was going on. And from the looks of it, Dexter didn’t know either. He looked genuinely confused, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing as if trying to form words, but nothing came out.

“Uh…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Deb groaned. “He wants to take you out. On a date. There. It’s done. The cat’s out of the bag.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. A warmth surged through you, a small flicker of happiness bubbling up, but then you saw the horrified look on Dexter’s face, and it fizzled just as quickly. You turned back to Deb.

“Wow, Debra. I didn’t know you moonlighted as a matchmaker.”

“I don’t. But someone has to get the ball rolling.”

“And the first step is holding someone hostage?”

“Hosta– are you fucking kidding me?” She turned to her brother, jabbing a finger into his ribs, making him flinch. “Dexter, tell her!”

But before he could say a word, you got up from your chair and headed for the door.

“I appreciate the effort, Deb, but can we discuss this later? I need to bring these to Louis before he has a meltdown.”

“Yeah, well, fuck him,” Deb said as she watched you leave.

“I’d rather not,” you quipped with a smirk, closing the door behind you.

But maybe Deb had a point.

Maybe he should ask you out.

It had been a while since he’d had a girlfriend, and perhaps it was time to change that. Saying no to you outright might be suspicious, and blending in was a cornerstone of his life. Besides, you weren’t so bad. Being around you wasn’t unpleasant. It made sense.

That's actually what he said when he finally asked you out: it makes sense. No fumbling over words or overly rehearsed lines. And you actually liked his reasoning. It was honest in its own way and you appreciated the lack of pretense.

That was one thing you’d learned about Dexter during your time at Miami Metro: he liked a logical approach, unlike most people who responded to emotion, whose actions were driven by feelings. He felt things, sure, just not in the same way, and he rarely expressed them outwardly.

It wasn’t like you were absolutely positive that it could turn into something meaningful or that a relationship with Dexter would last, but his way of interacting with the world was so unconventional that you simply felt drawn to it.

Dexter never really offered grand romantic gestures or gush over your presence in his life. But he noticed things you liked and made small accommodations for them. He listened with the intent to understand. And while he wasn’t exactly overflowing with emotion, you saw the quiet ways he cared.

You’d once mentioned in passing how receiving gifts made you uncomfortable, the pressure to perform gratitude leaving you uneasy. So when you joked that a specific brand of coffee was your lifeblood, he didn’t hand it to you wrapped in a bow. Instead, the next week, it simply appeared in the breakroom.

He wasn’t selfish about it, like most people were when they insisted on seeing your reaction. No, he just wanted to make you happy. And with that, he scored a double.

However, ever since you started going on dates, for the lack of a better word, because neither of you ever labeled it that way, he started second-guessing himself. He became more careful, often overthinking and calculating his answers. You suspected that Deb might have been partly to blame. She was too blunt sometimes, too quick to get into his head. But you made sure to let him know that he was more likely to scare you off by saying nothing rather than saying the wrong thing.

“You’re more confident about that than I am.”

You'd told him that he was the living embodiment of having a wall up. And not any wall. It was as if someone else had built it for him, and he was struggling to climb over it.

“You’re not even bad at climbing. You’re just trying to figure out where to put your hands.”

It was a strange way for your to put it, but you managed to create a whole think tank in his head which often left him with a dull ache between his eyes. He found himself admiring your honesty, the way you refused to put on a mask just to please the people around you or conform to societal expectations.

It’s not like you outright spilled your deepest, darkest secrets, but you gave him glimpses. You hinted at your own traumas that had shaped you, so matter-of-fact and so human.

It stirred something within him. For days, he debated whether to share his own scars, until he finally did, one night during a quiet walk along the beach. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his chest when he told you about his mother, the blood, the screams everything. Well, almost everything. He expected recoil, but it never came. You didn’t judge, it didn’t scare you away; you just looked at him with the same attentiveness, maybe a joke on your tongue about how that explained his line of work, because that's how you coped. And somehow, knowing he knew that made it easier for him to breathe.

And that night was also the night he kissed you for the first time. He didn’t plan for it. He just simply looked at you and the moonlight twinkling in your eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a different kind of urge. One he didn’t have to fight or wait to satisfy it. He let himself feel.

Later that evening, you also invited him to spend the night at your place.

He’d be lying if he said that he regretted a single second spent with you. Yeah, you never seemed to stop talking, never seemed to stop moving.

“It’s like you’re daring your neurons to keep up,” he’d said to you one day.

“Well, I need to keep my synaptic connections in shape, right?”

But still, you made the chaos seem… manageable. You were a walking paradox, bringing a strange sense of order to his life, a balance. He started to think that this was his final and definitive chance at happiness. And he wasn’t going to screw it up. Nobody was going to take you away from him. Nobody, and it was in his control.

Before you could discuss it further, the nurse came back with a new bandage.

“Your boyfriend, I presume?” she asked with a warm smile, glancing between the two of you. But Dexter barely looked at her, his focus was entirely on you.

“Was it him?” He tilted his head toward Louis, his voice low enough that only you could hear, but you saw the nurse make her way to you to apply the bandage.

“Not here,” you murmured, darting a glance toward Louis, who was still lingering near the door.

The nurse, oblivious to the tension, spoke up. “She’s going to be fine. The burn isn’t deep, and the cuts didn’t hit anything major. Could’ve been worse. You might’ve earned yourself a Nobel Prize for dedication to science, though.”

She smiled, and you saw Dexter’s lips twitch into a grimace that was supposed to look like a smile.

“What chemicals?” he asked.

“Phenol and chloroform mix,” you replied, and the nurse followed up.

“Not ideal for skin, but we got to it quickly. Keep the bandage clean and dry, and she’ll be good as new.”

“Thanks,” Dexter said shortly. Then, turning back to you, he added, “I’ll be right back.”

“Dex…” you began, knowing very well where his mind had taken him. And honestly, a part of you didn’t even want to stop him, because you wanted Louis to leave you alone.

“I said I'll be right back,” he repeated, his voice stern.

Dexter straightened to his full height and walked toward Louis, a predator closing in on its prey.

“So? How is she?” Louis asked as soon as Dexter approached him.

“How do you think, Louis? I suggest you stop fucking around or I’ll make your life really difficult.”

“What?” Louis laughed with faux confusion. “I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, and I think you’ve done enough. You can leave now. And if I find out you had anything to do with this, anything at all, you’ll wish it was you sitting on that hospital bed. Do you understand?”

“Geez, Dexter, are you –”

Dexter took a step closer without raising suspicion from other people.

“I’m serious, Louis. Do you understand?”

Louis nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Good. Now get out of my sight.”

Louis turned on his heel, but before making his exit, he turned to Dexter one more time. “Well… Catch you at work.”

Dexter ground his teeth, closing his eyes as he tried to suppress his need to protect you from Louis right then and there. He’d started seeing crimson the moment you texted him about Louis taking you to the hospital. Now, it was spilling everywhere, the red taking over his body, causing it to shake and ring in his ears. He wanted to fucking kill him. Louis had been trying to provoke him for quite some time, but he just crossed a line. Nobody will ever hurt you without consequences.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice brought him back to the present, your hand lightly brushing over his back as you tried to comfort him, ground him.

“No. I think I’ll kill him.”

You snorted. “Okay, drama queen,” you said, and hooked your arm around his, making your way out of the hospital.

Dexter hadn’t said a word during the drive, not a single one.

He’d even turned on his marching music, which he rarely did when you were with him. That was a signal in itself. He was thinking. Hard.

Once you reached his apartment, he tossed his keys onto the counter with an unusual force, and without a word, he headed straight for the first aid kit.

“Dex, I just got it bandaged. You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. I want to see for myself.”

You weren’t entirely sure if this had something to do with the whole I don’t trust nurses thing or just general paranoia, but you decided not to argue.

“I know this isn’t your fault, but you should’ve worn your coat,” he said, his voice almost shaking as he held back from lashing out.

“I know.”

Dexter gestured for you to sit on the couch, taking a seat himself on the low table in front of you. He gently reached for your hand and began unwrapping the bandage.

“Tell me what happened.”

You described the incident in detail, including your suspicions that Louis might have been involved. Dexter gave you that Kubrick stare as his jaw tightened at the mention of Louis’ name.

When he uncovered the burn ringed by shallow cuts, he muttered a quiet Jesus.

“Once it starts blistering, you can’t scratch it, okay? It could get infected.”

“Yes, doctor,” you teased lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “That’s what the nurse said.”

It made his head twitch as he gave you a look. But he didn’t comment, instead gently placing your hand in his lap as he prepared a fresh bandage.

“Do you have any other samples left?” he asked, and it warmed your heart knowing that he cared about your lab work, too.

“Yeah, I should have some stored at the station,” you said. “Unless Louis decided to get rid of them too.”

“I’ll head back and check on them for you.”

“Well, I’m coming too. I need to get back to the lab, it’s not like I’m incapable of running the experiment again.”

That was a hard no. He didn't even have to think about it.

He didn’t like the idea of you being back at the lab, not when Louis was going to be there. But he also knew he couldn’t keep you away from the lab for long, so he needed to do this fast. He convinced you to stay at his place until the next day, at least. After all, you did feel tired from the burning pain and the pills that started to kick in. As Dexter stood to leave, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, before kissing you on the lips, anchoring himself to you before heading back to work. And to take care of Louis once and for all.

It was easy. Louis was obsessed with serial killers, but he still lacked the skillset Dexter’s usual victims challenged him with. Now, he was going to give him the full-time experience.

He broke into his apartment and waited until Louis got home. A sharp prick to the neck and strapping him to a chair. Not his usual routine, but this wasn’t really to satisfy his urges. This was to protect you.

Once he was all tied up, Dexter broke a capsule of smelling salt under his nose and Louis' eyes shot open. Dexter wasn’t going to waste much time here, but he brought something to make it more enjoyable for himself.

“Wakey-wakey,” Dexter’s voice broke through the fog of Louis’s confusion.

He blinked, before he started thrashing against the rope. “What the hell?!” he shouted, panic rising in his voice. “What is this?!”

Dexter stepped closer to him, a faint curl of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. In his right hand, he held a bunch of vials filled with liquid.

“Do you know what chemical burn feels like, Louis?”

“What?” he asked, confused at first, but then it dawned on him. “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t do anything! I was just looking out for her. A-Accidents happen! Labs are dangerous places if you’re not careful, you know that!” Louis rambled, making Dexter watch him with an amused smile.

“Accidents don’t usually involve sabotage,” Dexter said evenly.

“Sabotage? Jesus, Dexter, you're blowing this way out of proportion. You're doing all this for some chick? Does her pussy feel that good?"

Dexter lurched forward, his fist connecting with Louis's face before he could react, the chair creaking against the floor as it moved with Dexter's strength. He leaned down to Louis’ eye-level, pointing a finger at his face. Louis squeezed his eyes shut, his bloody face scrunching in fear.

“Don't push it, Louis,” he said through his teeth. Dexter was quick to recover, his calm mask slipping back into place. “Let's talk about the fact that accidents always seem to happen when you’re around.”

Louis coughed, spitting blood onto the plastic-covered floor.

“You’ve got a pretty vivid imagination.”

Dexter’s lips twitched. He rose to his full height and backed away just to put down one of the vials and take a piece of cloth instead. He poured the chemical on it as he talked.

“It’s called pattern recognition,” he said, coming around the chair to stand behind Louis. “You should be familiar with that by now.” And with that, he stuffed the wet rug into his mouth. Louis twitched and thrashed, but Dexter was stronger. He made sure the cloth didn’t fall out, that Louis got the exact taste of what you’d gone through.

“How is it, Louis? You have my full attention now! The only time I’m willing to listen to your bullshit!”

He tortured him some more, before pulling the cloth out. As soon as Louis’ mouth was free, he started coughing. Then, Dexter poured some of the prepared solution on his glove.

“Did I get the concentration right, or was it too strong?” Dexter asked, rubbing his covered fingers together, the rubber shining under the kitchen light. Louis’ breathing quickened.

“Please. I won’t go near her again. I swear!” Louis cried out.

Dexter leaned in close again, his face inches from Louis’.

“You’re right. You won’t.”

And without further explanation, he pressed the gloved hand against Louis’ arm, holding it there long enough for the sting to start. Before Louis’ scream got too loud, Dexter stuffed his mouth with the rug again as he writhed in pain, the burning sensation spreading.

“That’s just a fraction of what she felt. And you’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood tonight. Otherwise, I would pour it right into your fucking eyes, your mouth, I would cut your skin open and fill it up before stitching it back together.” Dexter put his still wet hand on a different part of Louis’ arm, watching him squirm. “I would make you fucking drown in it.”

Dexter stepped back, watching Louis’ chest rise and fall with his heavy breathing, some tears sliding down his cheeks, mixing with his blood. Dexter closed his eyes, bathing in that satisfactory feeling as he breathed in, the smell of chemicals and sweat and fear tickling his nostrils. He made his way to the counter where his knives were splayed out, taking the sharpest one and making his way behind Louis again.

“Goodnight, Louis.”

And with that, he sliced his neck, blood spilling onto the plastic underneath the chair.

When he came home that night, he found you still on his couch. Safe and sound. Your bandaged arm rested on the book you were reading, and when you looked at him, you greeted him with that casual smile of yours.

It was so genuine, so automatic. Like it had been waiting just for him. He couldn’t let himself be the reason you’d ever lose it, couldn’t let his or anyone else's world dim yours.

Without saying a word, he approached you, pinched your chin between his fingers and tilted your head to kiss that smile, because he knew it would only make you grin wider, and that’s what he wanted. He was making a silent promise, to you and to himself, to keep it safe, because seeing you light up like that, illuminating his dark world was everything he needed. And he wanted it to last.

#dexter morgan #dexter: request #dexter #dexter fandom #dexter morgan fluff #dexter morgan fanfiction #dexter morgan oneshot #dexter morgan imagine #dexter morgan x reader #dexter morgan x female!reader #dexter morgan x f!reader #dexter x reader #dexter fanfiction

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marvelwitchergilmore · 23 days ago

Text

Tower Chaos

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You have had feelings for Bucky for a long time. Yelena finally questions you about it.

Disclaimer: Spoilers for Thunderbolts. Kinda Tower fanfic, reader helps Bucky when he's hurt, established relation/friendships with characters, YelenaBob pairing, found family chaos, yelling in Russian, mentions of injuries and cuts, happy ending. Not Proof Read.

You sighed. They never had your favourite ice cream flavour. You’d think being a regular customer, who regularly asks for your regular favourite ice cream, they would keep it stocked.

But no. So, reaching for your second favourite, you threw it into your basket and continued shopping.

Five minutes later, you were being handed a plain plastic bag and your change.

“Have a nice night,” you called as you left the store.

Usually, you’d have your headphones in, playing whatever playlist Joaquin had mashed together from your work laptop before you could stop him. Some songs were good, others not so much.

But since they’d died before you’d stepped a foot out of your apartment, you’d left them behind.

The emergency ice cream run was too important.

However, it was as you were walking back to your apartment you started to hear noises. Grunting, mostly. And it was one you seemed to recognise.

Down the alleyway, Bucky tried to catch his breath. All he’d tried to do was help, but instead he’d gotten the crap beat out of him. Just because he was a super soldier didn’t mean he didn’t bleed.

Yet, as his body slumped to the floor, he saw a shadow cast over him. And just for a moment, he accepted what might come next. A death? A kidnapping? A ransom note? More beatings?

That was when he got a shock to his chest.

“Come on,” you sighed, hoisting him up. “Suppose you’re coming with me.”

“Y/n?”

Bucky had to be dreaming. Was he already dead?

“Well done. I see the old-man eyesight hasn’t kicked in yet.”

Bucky just grunted and tried his best to walk on his own, inevitably leaning on you for support.

Once you’d gotten him through the door to your apartment, you helped him onto the sofa.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

As Bucky held his side, trying to make himself a little more comfortable in his seat, you walked behind him and towards the kitchen.

Pulling the freezer door open, you placed the plastic bag from the store inside and shut it in. you moved across the kitchen and grabbed your first aid kit from under the sink and eventually found yourself kneeling on the floor besides Bucky’s legs.

“How did you find me?” Bucky asked you as you ripped some packaging open and shook the ice pack.

You pressed it into his side. “I was getting supplies.”

“Medical?”

“Ice cream,” you told him. He held onto the pack as you moved back to the kit to grab something else. “So, do you wanna tell me what happened? Or am I gonna have to guess?”

“I didn’t plan on it.”

“Nobody plans on getting hurt, Bucky.”

He looked at you, but you didn’t look at him. Your focus remained on the cut on his arm as you cleaned it.

“Why didn’t you just come to me?” You asked him, eventually. He’d gotten hurt a few hours before, but thought he could walk it off.

Bucky’s voice was quiet when he spoke. “Didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

For a moment, your eyes flicked to his face before going back to the second cut you were gluing shut. “We had a fight, Bucky. Doesn’t mean I want to see you get hurt.”

Bucky sighed a little before he looked around your apartment. There seemed to be more stuff on your shelves than usual. Books and pictures that were usually kept in your office at the Compound.

“Why aren’t you staying with Sam and the others?”

You were avoiding his gaze; he knew that much. “We’re, uh, we’re not really talking right now.”

The small bottle rattled against the other items in your kit as you threw it inside. Bucky leaned forward as you sat back on your heels.

He just looked worried and concerned. “Why?”

You gave a short sigh. “Because I stuck up for you, and now he thinks I’ve chosen a side. There are no sides to this, Buck. You, Yelena, and the others. You saved people that day. That deserves to be recognised. But none of you even had a choice.”

It felt like the battle had been going on forever. When the woman you’d come to know as ‘Val’ had introduced the world to ‘The New Avengers’, you’d taken one look at their faces on the screen.

They hadn’t been expecting it.

And your thoughts were confirmed as much when you called Bucky a few hours later to check in on him and the others.

However, Sam hadn’t been as composed. He’d been asked by the President himself to start up a new team of Avengers. And, somehow, six people the country had seen as enemies of the State were suddenly being introduced to the world as the very people who should be trusted with civilian lives.

The rift had started immediately.

And you’d been stuck in between ever since.

“Again,” Bucky added, solemnly.

Even before you’d met Bucky, you already knew enough of his past to know not much of who he was in the modern world had been consensual.

You reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry Sam doesn’t see that. But he will.”

Bucky nodded for a moment, squeezing back. “I know. Do you…want to come and stay with us for a while? I know Yelena misses you.”

You smiled, if a little sadly, for a moment. Yelena had been your best friend – once she stopped trying to kill Clint.

And for a moment, you nodded your head. Only to then shake it. “It’s probably best that I don’t. But I wouldn’t mind coming to dinner once in a while.”

Bucky smiled a soft smile. He missed you, too. “We’d like that.”

Three days later, you arrived inside the Tower.

It was mostly open plan, with grey, black and gold. Every once in a while, there was a hint of red.

Surprisingly, you’d been let through immediately.

Apparently, your name was on the security list.

And so began the steady elevator climb to the top penthouse.

Once the doors pinged open, you stepped out. And for a while, no one was there. You knew you were early, but an hour before, something in your gut told you they needed your help.

“Hi,” a soft voice said somewhere beside you.

Eight feet from where you were standing was Bob; dressed in a purple sweater and a pair of jeans.

“Hi. I-I know I’m early but-”

That was when swear words erupted from the direction of the kitchen. Three pan crashes and two seconds later, Bucky emerged from the kitchen. John was following behind him as Alexei yelled something in Russian.

Bucky visibly relaxed. “Hey, you’re here.”

Before you could say anything, someone called your name from behind you.

Yelena was across the room, her Guinea Pig in her hands. For a moment, she’d stopped. Then she was rushing. Carefully placing him in his pen, Yelena dusted off her hands and ran towards you before hugging you, tightly.

You smiled and hugged her back.

Then she moved back, keeping her hands on you. “You’re early,” she said, a little surprised.

You looked around at the others. “I know-”

“Some might say it’s rude to be early.”

You gave a subtle glare to John. “But something told me you might need my help.”

You looked at Bucky and despite his smile and his nod, he seemed…tired. If a little scared.

“You couldn’t be more right.”

From having both hands on his hips, he reached out and took yours. Once you were standing beside him in the kitchen, you realised why.

“Oh.”

Two pots were overflowing with some kind of chilli…soup…mix. One pan had been burnt with, what you assumed was meant to be mashed potato and the rest…

“Oh my god,” Yelena practically threw her words up. “Dad!”

Ava appeared beside you. “We all drew straws for who got to cook tonight. Alexei won and nearly burnt our home down. Is that wine?”

You wondered what she meant until you realised you were still holding the bottle you brought. “Oh, yeah. Thought we could drink it with dinner.”

Your other hand was still in Bucky’s.

“We don’t usually let him cook because of, well, this.” Bucky breathed.

As Yelena moved across the kitchen, yelling at her dad and almost chasing him out of the kitchen whilst yelling in Russian, John leaned in.

“Can any of this be salvaged?”

“Should it be salvaged?” Bob asked, standing on the other side of you.

You remained quiet for a few minutes. Both because you were still registering the mess of the kitchen, but also because a plan was being drawn up in your head.

“Where’s your storage cupboard?”

Bucky nodded to the otherside of the kitchen. “Through there.”

“Come with me.”

Pulling him with you, you both managed to avoid slipping on whatever red-oil monstrosity was spilling onto the floor. On the way past, Bucky turned the heat down before the entire thing blew up.

“What are we looking for?”

You quickly gave Bucky a list as you reached and grabbed things. As he helped you, you popped your head back out into the kitchen.

“How quickly do you think you two can clean this up?”

John pointed at himself. “Us?”

“Yes, you. And Bob.”

“But- this is not a two man job.”

“Then ask Yelena and Ava for help.”

John groaned as you disappeared back into the storage space with Bucky.

Twenty minutes later, Alexei was apologising to you for not correctly making his…whatever he called it, dish properly.

“You’re forgiven, Alexei.”

“Thank you.”

What followed was an evening of…fun. For the first time in a long time, you saw each of them smile. Bucky, Yelena…hell, even John.

Yelena gave a small gasp. “You should stay for a movie. You can stay right?”

You hadn’t answered before she’d answered for you. “You’re staying. I’ll go and get Bob. It’s his turn to pick the movie.”

You chuckled softly as you watched Yelena run away and down the hall. You’d all long since finished your dinner. Bob had offered to wash up, but when Yelena had cut in and said Bucky had already volunteered, he’d walked away.

“She’s right, though.” Bucky said to you, a short moment after she left. “You could stay.”

You nodded, but once again, shook your head. As much as your heart wanted to stay, your head wouldn’t let you.

“I know. But I don’t…I don’t want the others thinking…”

For a moment, Bucky met your gaze. Then he lowered his head before he transferred the freshly clean plate onto the drying rack. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

Two hours later, you were deadly asleep as you rested against Bucky.

Within twenty minutes of the movie coming on, the familiar soundtrack and feeling of Bucky beside you comforted you more than you knew you needed. You didn’t even try to fight it. You closed your eyes and leaned against him.

The next time you woke up, it was feeling his arms slip away from underneath your body.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna stay on the sofa,” Bucky whispered in a low voice. From the way his scent was enveloping your senses, you could only assume you’d been placed in his bed.

You pouted a little, your eyebrows furrowing at the thought. “No, that’s…stupid. This is big enough for both of us. Come to bed.”

“Y/n-”

“Just come to bed. It’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before.”

It didn’t take much more convincing before Bucky was laying in bed beside you. Almost immediately, you moved closer to him under the covers until you’d placed his arm around you.

Bucky chuckled quietly. “Thought you said it was big enough for the both of us.”

“Shut up.”

Chuckling once more, Bucky fixed the bedding over both of you before leaning closer to you. There was no denying he got a better night’s sleep when he was lying beside you.

It was somewhere in semi darkness your phone started to ring, loudly.

With a groan, you turned over to search for your phone. Somewhere in the darkness, Bucky slurred the direction where he’d put your phone.

Reaching across to one of the night stands, you finally found your phone and answered before looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay? Joauqin said he tried texting but you didn’t answer.” Sam started. “I’ve found an old box in the storage room. Finally started clearing this place out-”

From just above you, Bucky mumbled, “Everything okay?”

You nodded, still tired. “It’s just-”

“Are you with Bucky?”

The air felt heavy as he asked. “Sam-”

The shift in his tone was instantaneous. “No, I see how it is. Look, I’ll let Joaquin know you’re busy.” And then, “Maybe it’s best you don’t come back to the Compound for a while.”

You tried to cut in but by the sounds of it, his mind was already made up. And if, without letting you explain, or knowing that you weren’t taking sides, he’d become certain in his decision…

All you said was, “Okay.”

As Sam hung up, you locked your phone; the click echoed around the room.

“Do you need to go?” Bucky asked, quietly. His arm was still around you.

“No,” you laid back down with Bucky. “No.”

Three weeks later, you decided to head to the Compound. As much as you’d ‘moved’ out, some of your stuff was still there. As you packed the last box into your car, you turned back and looked at the outhouse down the road.

Sam was still there. You knew he was; boxes were still being shuffled in and out.

Tearing open another dusty box filled with crap, Sam looked up to see you walking in his direction.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You stopped just short of the door. “Came to see you.”

The cold was starting to settle in across New York and you’d dressed for it. Boots, jeans, hoodie under your jacket.

“Thought you’d be with the rest of your team.”

“They are my team,” you agreed before hearing Sam give a humming laugh as if to say, “I knew it. You did pick a side.”. “But so are you, Sam.”

You sighed, continuing to talk. “You’re all my family. They’re yours, too, Sam. Or are you gonna shut them out, as well?”

Sam looked up. “I’m not shutting them out.”

“You’re shutting everyone out,” you argued. “They didn’t have a choice, Sam.”

Pulling something from the box to move it towards the mini trash skip, he said, “They stayed. That was their choice.”

Again, you sighed. You averted your eyes from him for a moment to look around the outhouse. He was almost done. It was just the final unit of boxes.

Sam moved back over to the box. “Look, I appreciate you coming here. But I meant it when I said it’s best you don’t come round here.”

“Sam.” you looked at him.

“I get we’re all family, and nothing can truly change that. But…” Sam sighed. “As much as you love us all, you made your decision.”

You felt fire in your belly. “Hey, do not put this on me. That is not fair.”

“Do you love him?”

The fire got hotter.

“That’s got nothing to do with this-”

“Do you love him?” Sam repeated, practically spelling out each word.

“Yes,” you answered before you could think. “But that doesn’t change-”

“It does. You’re too emotionally involved-”

“Emotionally involved!? I get you can be a pain in my ass some days, Samuel. But being an actual ass has never been in your true nature. Deep down you know Bucky didn’t have a choice. Neither did Yelena, or Ava or the rest of their team. And once you’ve finally pulled your head from your ass, maybe you’ll just be able to admit that. This is not on them, and it most certainly is not on me.”

Sam could see the fury in your eyes. He could see the fire in your chest and the hurt in your heart. And he wished he could take it all back.

He’d been there to see you and Bucky grow feelings for each other. He’d been there to witness you both actively avoiding feelings because you both thought it was dangerous.

It was in that garage he realised, this time, he’d been the one in the wrong.

Of course you loved Bucky. But one thing you’d never done is go with your emotions when it came to something on this level.

But that still didn’t change the rift between him and Bucky. He doubted that it would.

“Y/n- I didn’t mean-”

“Yes, you did.” Your gaze was fixed on Sam. “And one day I’ll forgive you for being an ass, but right now…”

Part of you caved and you looked away. You rarely cried, but when you were angry and frustrated…your body betrayed you.

You managed to hold it in as you looked back at him. “Maybe you were right about me coming here. I’m gonna go.”

“Y/n-”

“Bye, Sam.”

Bucky didn’t see you until two days later. And you were still angry from your talk with Sam.

As he walked into the Tower, Bob lifted his head from his milkshake and book. “Y/n’s in the kitchen.”

He dropped his bag by the sofa. “She’s here?”

Bob nodded. “She brought food.”

He held up his milkshake before pointing towards the cup holders on the table. “She got you one, too.”

Picking his cup up on the way, he walked towards the kitchen, already having an idea of the image that was about to greet him. He could smell the lemon blondies from the living room.

The kitchen was mostly clean, which was his first sign. Whenever you did bake, the kitchen tended to be a wonderfully organised yet flour-sprinkled chaos.

When you were pissed, it was almost as neat as a pin.

His second sign was that it was quiet.

Whenever you were baking, there tended to be music or a show in the background. That was if you weren’t already on the phone to someone – specifically, Yelena.

His third sign was the amount of baking you’d done. Lemon blondies, blueberry muffins, chocolate cupcakes, frosting, flapjacks, cornflake cakes, raspberry and vanilla cakes, confetti cakes, protein muffins and many others. They were all stacked and piled in tupperware cases on one of the side counters, if they weren’t still in their pans cooling down.

His fourth sign was that you didn’t move, didn’t even look up, when he walked inside. You were fully focused on what you were doing.

He approached you slowly in the deep silence. “Not good?”

You shook your head, your focus on the batter pouring from the stand mixer into the rectangular cake tin. “Not good.”

As you put it down, Bucky stepped behind you and opened up the oven door. Slotting it inside, he closed the door as you set the timer.

Bucky watched you for a few moments as you took the cake battered bowl to the sink, brought over another one filled with icing and started dishing them out into different food colouring segments.

As he leaned against the counter you were working on, Bucky’s gaze flickered over your face.

He’d known you for so long, he’d easily seen every emotion come across your face. Anger, love, fear, joy, anxiety, embarrassment, confusion, rage, numbness, laughter, and many more.

A lot of them, he’d seen through your eyes.

“Have you been crying?” Bucky asked the question, but he already knew the answer.

He was certain of the answer, even more so, when you didn’t look at him or answer him. So, with a gentle finger under your chin, he tilted your head to look at him. “Hey.”

His voice was soft. Soft enough to break the dam you’d been holding in place.

You didn’t have to say anything. You rarely had to say anything to Bucky. Without hesitating, Bucky took you by the shoulder before holding you into him. Immediately, your arms wrapped around him. It was hard to breathe evenly when you were trying to keep your tears at bay.

“I might take you up on that offer,” you mumbled into his blue henley. “If it’s not too late.”

Bucky smiled, briefly. His hand stroked down the back of your hair before cupping your head. “There were no limitations.”

A bubble of slight laughter rose up your throat. But you just held onto him tighter.

“This is gonna be so cool,” Yelena said as she helped you carry your stuff towards your room. “We finally won’t be outnumbered. We can watch movies- Oh, I’ve already added you to the rota. Your choice is after John’s. A lot of his are military movies which are boring-”

Yelena continued to tell you all about her plans as she helped you move into your room. About her and Ava’s ‘girl’ days. Their on going prank on John, changing a lot of his dark coloured items to bright neon pink; for example, his dark navy towel to a bright neon pink. Same with his face clothes and gym shower bottles.

Both she and Ava warned you about Alexei’s hoarding room; it was mostly filled with memorabilia of the Thunderbolts and ‘New Avengers’. Apparently someone on Etsy had gotten wind of their original title and made t-shirts.

“Oh, the room next door to that one is filled with everything on Yelena.”

You gasped. “Please tell me there’s baby pictures.”

“Pictures?” Ava asked. “Please, there are projector wheels full.”

You looked at Yelena. “Oh, I have to see them.”

“No, you don’t.”

Ava leaned into you. “I’ll get them for you.”

“You know, sometimes I hate the fact you can walk through walls.”

Ava just smiled.

It didn’t take long to get used to living with them. Often Bob joined ‘girls night’ which eventually developed into ‘team’ night when Alexei and John got bored. Games night was every Friday. Bob stayed home most of the day, keeping an eye on reports coming in.

On your days off, you’d help him. A lot of the time, you’d both just talk away until the others came home. You’d even taught him how to bake, which had eventually turned into a baking lesson for a lot of the team considering they’d never really had those moments to learn out of simple enjoyment.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky…were you and Bucky.

And it didn’t take any of their specialist training to notice.

To notice the way Bucky always stood close to you, or how your eyes flicked to each other when the other wasn’t looking. More so if they were. Or how you both seemed to have an unspoken language between each other, already knowing what the other needs.

It didn’t take any of their specialist training to notice the way you looked at each other, or how you interacted. How Bucky’s hand always ghosted over your hip or led you by your lower back. You were also the only one Bucky wasn’t afraid to…touch. To hold hands, or to hug. He’d never been like that with anyone.

Yelena knew, especially. She’d heard stories from her sister.

“Do you think we should do something?”

“What was that film? The one with the single twin? Lainey…Linda…no, that’s not it.”

Yelena sat up straight and sighed. “We watched it last night. The Parent Trap. And it’s Lindsey Lohan.”

“Yes. That one. Why don’t we…just do that?”

Ava sat up. “You really think tricking them onto a boat is going to work?”

Alexei shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be a boat. It could be a closet, or a training room or-”

“We’re not locking them in anywhere.” Yelena told them all. “They’re grown adults.”

“Do you think they’ve always been like that?”

“They were when I first met them,” John said as he transferred food from the stove onto each plate. “He would have died protecting her. And she would have killed him for doing so. They hadn’t even known each other very long from what I knew.”

“So it can’t be that long before something happens, right?” Ava asked. “I mean, she slept in his bed that night she came here for dinner.”

“But that could have been a fluke,” Bob pointed out. “The guest rooms, and her room, weren't finished yet.”

Yelena thought for a moment. “Okay. We need an agreement. If things don’t start naturally, we give them a little push. Nothing big, just…maybe show them the right direction.”

They all agreed.

But six months later, they were sick of the subtle differences they’d all been making. Name dropping, schedule changes, lighting changes, stories. Ava was the first to make the big leap from subtle to not-so-much when she arranged a blind date for you.

The annoyance from Bucky had been clear from the moment she phased through the front door.

However, despite being the one to draw up the agreement, Yelena was the one to truly break it.

“Do you like Bucky?”

She’s marched into your room, dressed in her pajamas, holding onto her guinea pig. Although the question had been a surprise, Yelena bursting into your room at nine at night only to flop down on your bed in front of you was not.

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you like him?” Yelena paused to reframe the question. “Okay, do you have romantic feelings for him?”

You stuttered, “For Bucky?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

She didn’t give you time to answer before explaining. “Because I think you do and since you’re my best friend, I think, legally, I should know.”

“Yelena-”

“I can keep a secret, I promise,” she sat up and talked to her pet. “You know I can. Well, I tell you my secrets but we live with Ava. She knows everybody’s secrets.”

Yelena finally looked back at you. “So?”

So?

So…the answer was yes. You had done for a while. Probably since you met him, if you were being completely honest; though you didn’t recognise them to be romantic then. Just feelings.

Mainly the feeling that you wanted him to be safe, and to be free.

A man willing to lay his life down for his country, only to lose something worse than that to a different cause; one he never chose, one he never consented to. Only to be brought back and be blamed for the act forced on him despite fighting against deadly torture for over twenty years.

That was a man that needed someone in his corner.

“Yelena.” Just from the tone of your voice told her everything she needed to know.

“I knew it. I knew it.” She smiled to herself before repeating herself to her pet. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged, putting down your legal pad. “What was there to tell?”

Yelena pretended to think, “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I’m your best friend and I should know who my brother in law is going to be. Or that he’s the reason every date I’ve sent you on has never worked out. Or-”

You reached out for her. “Okay, okay. That’s enough.”

“Y/n, why don’t you tell him?”

You looked away for a split second. “We…have an agreement. Kinda. We’ve never spoken about it but, we know.”

“Know what?”

“That it’s too dangerous.”

Her brows furrowed. “Dangerous? Because…it’s so electric you might blow a spark?”

You ran your tongue over your lips. “No, it’s…how do I put this? When he worked together…there was a chance of things going wrong because we wouldn’t be thinking. Neither of us were willing to risk putting people in danger because neither of us could focus properly.”

“Well, that’s…”

“Yeah.”

“Stupid.” Yelena finished. “That’s really stupid. I suppose you two being in love, I have to give you some slack. And the sentiment. That is very sweet. But also incredibly stupid.”

You just looked at her, dumbfounded.

“You like each other. If someone is going to get hurt, then they get hurt. It’s a part of the job. Just because you work together doesn’t mean people will get hurt because of it. The only people who you’re hurting are yourselves. And us, but that’s for another time. You should tell him.”

“Lena-”

“No. You should tell him. And he should tell you. I’m sick of seeing you two act like lovestick cowards.”

You both kept her frustrated for another two months.

You’d been sitting with Bob for most of the day. Around mid-day, you’d both left the Tower to go and get some food. But it was when you were standing in the kitchen, Bob telling you about his ideas for Yelena’s birthday, that a warning flashed around the room.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.”

Then you heard the noises.

Both you and Bob took one look at each other before heading out back into the living space. “Guys?!”

Through the elevator doors, Yelena hobbled through with Bucky by her side. They all looked like hell.

“What the hell happened?”

Ava and Alexei took the semi-conscious Bucky from Yelena and rushed him down the hallway. Yelena tried her best to keep your focus on her. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s gonna be okay.”

“What the hell happened, Yelena?”

Beside you, Bob’s focus remained on the blonde Russian. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, knowingly taking Bob’s hand in her other one. “We ran into a few hurdles.”

“I thought this was meant to be a search and rescue.”

“It was,” she nodded. “But apparently Sam and the others also got wind of it. They’ve taken some bruises home, too.” Yelena was quick to add her next sentence. “Not from us. Well, mostly not from us. The search and rescue was tied to a hostage situation.”

“So,” your head kept turning to the hallway Bucky had been taken down. “So what-”

“A kinetic energy blast.”

Yelena saw the fire in your eyes. “Sam- Sam did this?”

Yelena shook her head, then nodded. “No. Well, kinda. But it was- Bucky was helping him. Sam thought he was clear of the blast. So did we.”

“I need to see him.”

Yelena let you go and Bob stepped into your place. “Yelena,” his finger traced over her brow. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m okay, Bob. I’m okay.” Yelena took his other hand in hers before resting her head against his. Then she hugged him.

Meanwhile, you ran down the hall and into the medical wing where Ava and Alexei had Bucky. He seemed a little more awake.

“I’m okay-”

You hugged him immediately. Somewhere behind you, Alexei made a soft noise and Ava hit his gut.

“Wilson said he’d be sending a medical officer over.”

“I don’t need one-”

“Yes you do,” you cut in before looking at Ava. “Yes, he does. Where are the medical supplies?”

“Doll, if you can fix me-”

“I still want someone checking you over.”

As Bucky agreed and the others left, John brought you the medical kits and left you and Bucky to it.

“He didn’t mean it, Y/n.”

You swallowed. “I know. Yelena said.”

“Look at me?”

You eventually stopped cleaning one of his cuts to look at him. He smiled for a moment. “I’m okay. We both know I’ve been through worse.”

You tilted your head. Too soon.

“They were helping us, and we were helping them. It’s not much but it’s a start. Maybe I can call him. He might actually pick-”

Bucky’s talking was cut off by your lips crashing into his. The only thought going around in your head as he was talking was that you could have lost him. Sam and the others might not have been there, Bucky and the others could have been outnumbered, and you might never have seen him again.

Yelena was right. The only people you were hurting were yourselves.

Once Bucky had come out of his trance, he looked at you, his fingers absentmindedly running through the ends of your hair. “What was that for?”

“I don’t want to ignore us anymore.”

“What made you change-”

“I could have lost you,” you spat the truth out. “And I don’t want to lose you and not have you with me in the first place. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Bucky admitted. Then a glint came across his eyes. “I should get hurt more often.”

“Absolutely not.”

Bucky chuckled before cupping his hand against your head. “So…we’re not ignoring it anymore?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“Good.”

Pulling you closer to him, he kissed you like he’d been dying to for years.

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that-one-malereader-enthusiast · 6 months ago

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𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞 · 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

ׂ╰┈➤ ◖ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 ◗

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

cw : MDNI - S2 Arcane Act III [spoilers], parallel universe, alternate male reader, alternate Silco, slightly suggestive, top male reader, old man yaoi, mentions of nudity, chem-baron male reader, crime boss male reader, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of suicidal tendencies & thoughts, mentions of injuries, bitter sweet ending, open ended, fluff, angst, proofread. wc : 1.6k

__________________

now playing : What Have They Done To Us (from the series Arcane League of Legends) - Mako, Grey

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

prologue · epilogue ←

overview · With Silco dead and gone, it seemed as if all your strength, your will to fight, will to live — it all disappeared with him. It was as if your entire world had fallen apart all at once, that you'd been forsaken or damned by some higher power to simply live a life of constant cruelty. Just as it always has been, just as it always will be — toiling in misery as the place you once called home seemed to be burning before your eyes.

Or maybe, just maybe...it was all nothing but a bad dream.

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

You woke with an abrupt gasp, a cold sweat clinging onto your body after waking from a less than pleasant dream. Your breath stuttered as you fisted against the sheets to ground yourself to reality. As your vision slowly adjusted to the darkness, it was only then that you realized you were in bed within your allotted room. As the sheets stirred beside you, a slender hand moved to run itself against your bare, scar riddled body — starting at your stomach and slowly making its way up your chest — before finally settling against where your heart resided.

“You alright?” Silcos' voice cut through the quiet air of the room, now able to hear your sudden laboured breathing. He was just barely awake at the time, but the moment he not only heard, but felt you wake in such a panic, he didn't hesitate to come to your aid. The way your heart seemed to race under his touch only worried him that much more about your current state.

“Yeah, no, I just…I just had a weird dream, that's all. Nothing to worry about, just wasn't too fond of it since, well, it seemed so real. Call me crazy, but everyone we knew was there.” You wiped a hand against your own face, still half awake yourself. One hand went up to overlap the others while another went through your hair, combing it back with your fingers balling up towards the end. After a moment or so and being able to catch your breath, you laid yourself back down, resting against the pillow propped under your head.

Silco huffed out, doing his best to sit up, maneuvering a pillow behind his back as he moved positions. “Is that so?” He knew that you were prone to having vivid dreams every now and then, and when it was something intriguing or something that kept you up, he didn't mind letting you ramble on when recalling said events.

“I was some sort of…crime boss and so were you. But you were much scarier than me,” you started, only to snicker at the thought, practically hearing the other playfully roll his eyes at your active imagination. “Though, I will say it got really depressing rather…rather fast. Lots of people got hurt, people I cared about dearly. You, you were there, and suddenly…you weren't.”

“Darling,” he called out for you, though in the moment of recalling what felt like years worth of memories shoved into one dream, you couldn't help but to continue your rant before the thoughts completely disappeared from the forefront of your mind.

“You and Vander, god,” you sighed out, brows furrowing and eyes glancing about the ceiling, as if you were trying to find the image. “You two were up in arms against each other, and I…and I just sat and watched as everything burned. Like I was helpless to it all. The kids, they — Silco, bad things happened, left and right and it was as if the world was against you, us…me? And Powder, damn it, she was so…lost, so broken, and there…there was nothing I could do to—”

Your head snapped down to your arm as you felt a hand slip into your own, squeezing it reassuringly. Your head then tilted up, looking back to your companion with a slight pout on your lips.

“I'm not going anywhere, you know that. I'll always be beside you, understand?” Silco croaked out.

You gently smiled in turn, twisting to where you were laying on your side before reaching out to cup and caress against their face. “Just as I’ll be here next to you, unmoving. My love, unwavering,” you say onto him. Your thumb gently rubbed against the scarred skin of his face, tender touches under the discolored eye you'd come to adore, all before leaning in and tenderly pressing your lips against his own.

Silco reciprocated immediately, tilting his head as his own free hand came up to the nape of your neck, slowly threading his fingers through your hair before giving it a gentle tug, humming as he felt you groan into his mouth.

Regretfully pulling away, you looked at him through half lidded eyes. Your heart throbbed within the confines of your ribcage as he looked at you with the same look he always gave you, the look that makes you fall harder for him everyday.

The look of absolute love, devotion, and admiration — the type of love you couldn't find anywhere else, the type you thought you never deserved.

But Silco knew you deserved more. You deserved the world and he'd give it to you the moment you asked, no hesitation.

Before long, the sheets were moved and your bodies were entangled. Your lips were quick to spoil and praise his skin, pressing hot, heavy kisses against his neck, slipping down to his collar, nipping away while he called your name in such a sultry tone. You practically melted. Your hands drifted to his sides, playing against his bare skin while his hands dipped and diverged, one against your back — brushing against the many scars you'd earned throughout the years — the other threading through your graying hair.

You were once again breathless, but for all the right reasons. A warmth surged through your body, swirling around your core as Silco egged you on.

Leaning up, you found yourself stealing a kiss, your tongue swiping along his bottom lip before slowly pulling away, his teeth catching your bottom and tugging it shortly after. As you two parted, you couldn't help but to stare. Oh how you adored this man, would break the world for him if he asked or demanded it. What wouldn't you do for the man you loved. “I love you…”

Peering into his heterochromic eyes, he looked back into your own, just as he looked at you across the bar all those years ago. “I love you too darling, more than you'll ever know.” He pressed his lips against your once again.

“And nothing will ever change that.”

₊˚⊹ ₊

Your eyes shot open and your body lunged forward, gasping for air as if you'd been choking on fumes. You hacked and coughed before slamming yourself back against the brick wall you laid again, groaning as pain surged throughout the entirety of your body and a harsh banging against your temples. You could barely think in the moment, but you were awake enough to notice that you were somewhere shoved in an alley, slumped against one of its many grime covered walls.

Before you could even attempt to move again, there was a searing pain that seemed to occupy the entire left side of your body. Slowly turning your head, you gazed upon the rather harsh and horrific burns that were in your skin. A pained yell let loose from your lungs as you tried to sit up straight, the pain making your vision flash white.

The Lanes had gone to hell, devastation around every corner, and what was left for you?

Despair, destruction, it all came down and brought back nothing but misery. Something you'd been all too accustomed to.

“What a fucked up dream,” you sneered, wincing with every breath you took.” Maybe…Maybe just one good thought of him before it's lights out.” In the corner of your eye there seemed to be an eerie green glow that lit up the darkness of the Lanes. It caused you to weakly turn your head towards the product of such a glaring light. Only then, could you remember where you truly were, what you'd done.

You could do nothing but sit and watch as The Last Drop was engulfed in flames, the fire lapping at every entrance, window, and wall. You could still feel the flames that nipped at your flesh, eating away as you slumped yourself at the bar in those final moments. Everything started to make sense to you, watching Jinx as she lit the place a blaze, watching her shadow, foreign without her long hair.

The memory was too painful for her, and you didn't blame her.

You could never blame her.

You could never hate her. After all, she was your forsakened daughter, whether you acknowledged it or not. The last thing you could have imagined was her harming Silco, but in the end, you knew she couldn't have done such a thing on purpose, not when she missed him so dearly. Just as you did.

You wanted your suffering to end there, as sad as it seemed, you saw it as a means to an end. One last drink before a final goodbye.

The three people you held dearly, all three of them, gone. Only you remained, to suffer in their silence.

You couldn't remember if you dragged yourself out, or if someone else did, but as you closed your eyes, you could hear his voice encircling your mind.

“You aren't just a mutt fighting for scraps anymore. You're a hound willing to fight for what's yours. You aren't pathetic enough to put yourself down, nor has anyone had the strength or audacity to kill you. So do what you do best…and fight.”

It was as if he was right in front of you.

“Keep fighting, or I swear I'll take everything you care about and watch it burn. Keep fighting. For me…”

As the blaze that once was the Last Drop continued the burn, you couldn't help but to think rather fondly of the dream you had. “Maybe in another life, yeah?” You muttered to yourself. Staring off into the flames, you could feel the darkness seeping in, ready to take you down into the depths of unconsciousness once again.

“Maybe…what could have been.”

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

a/n : thank you for suffering with me, arcane gripped my heart and I'M STILL HURTING— anywho, don't forget to like, comment, or repost! Arcane requests are open! <3

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infin1ty-garden · 6 months ago

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୭🧷✧˚. VERITAS CURAT

⋆｡°✩ summary: you help patch up Hanno after a fight ⋆｡°✩ pairing: lucius verus (hanno) x doctor! gn! reader ⋆｡°✩ warnings: ✩ GLADIATOR II SPOILERS ✩ historically inaccurate, needles & injury ⋆｡°✩ word count: 457 ⋆｡°✩ author note: a bit short but wanted to publish some Lucius x reader

masterlist.

✩ GLADIATOR II SPOILERS AFTER THE CUT ✩

After winning the fight for the emperors' entertainment, Hanno was set to get treated for his wounds by a doctor under the employment of Thraex. He was taken to a room, like any other. The only difference being two chairs set up in the middle of the room along with a table filled with medical supplies and herbs. "Take a seat." He did as told. "Your hand?"

He gave you his injured hand. You inspected the cut. "You're gonna need this," you handed him a glass of wine. "For the pain." He took your advice and downed the cup. "This is gonna hurt more than the cut," you said as you got the needle and thread ready. "I'm sure it will." You looked at Hanno finally as you took his hand in yours. He nodded, signalling he was ready.

The needle entered his skin and you tried as quickly and tourolly to sow it closed. His other hand was making indents on the chair. He was as still as he could be. "You weren't lying."

"I usually don't," you were almost done with the stitch. The moment you finished, Hanno let you a sigh of relief. "If you plan on anymore stitching up. I'm gonna need some more wine." You obliged his request as you were far from done. It took you an hour to finish all of the stitches and check his condition. You made small talk with Hanno and got to know each other a bit.

When you announced to the guards you finished healing him, he was assured away to Macrinus, you assume. You thought you'd never see him again. Only hear of his achievements in the arena. When you were called to the coliseum, one night. You had never visited, your job required you to be near Thraex's estate at all times, but I guess there were exceptions.

You were shown to Hanno's cell or room? It was more of a cell anyways, with the smallest window imaginable. Barely any light to see what you were doing. At Least they had the courtesy to give you a lantern. "Why did you call for me?" He didn't answer. You did your best, with the limited supplies you brought, to patch him up. You were getting ready to leave but he grabbed your wrist. Pulling you back towards him.

"I'd lost a lot and you were the first person to make me feel something other than rage or sorrow. I care for you, in what way, I am not certain how yet but I wish to see you again." You slowly moved your hand so it was holding his. "Take all the time you need. You know where to find me," with that you left.

Thanks for reading!

#lucius verus x reader #lucius verus #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 fic #gladiator ll #x reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x gn y/n #x gender neutral y/n #gladiator movie

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hiraethwrote · 8 months ago

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contents : gn!reader but written with f!reader in mind, reader is smaller than satoru, mentions and depictions of blood and injuries, hurt/angst to comfort, though the comfort is bittersweet ig, established relationship, fear of losing loved one, ig hinting at spoilers, really rushed so probably bad wc 1.5k an : so this is the canon ending now right? right? (also no tags bc might be spoilery for 271, so just to be sure) comments and reblogs is much appreciated

no words were spoken. you only held one arm around satoru's torso, the other on his chest while you helped guide him into the bathroom. exhaustion was tainting his entire body — you could feel it, how his weight rested against you, strong arm thrown over your shoulders in support.

you sat him down on the edge of the bathtub. his arms hung limp at his side, back curved forward and head angled towards the floor.

there was a lump of nerves forming in your throat. you swallowed it before delicately putting your hands on each side of his face to make him look at you. there was an uneasiness in you that would not be settled until you had his beautiful eyes on you, telling you he would be okay.

blood stains and scars decorating his face, but same cerulean eyes staring back at you. a shaky breath traveled past your lips when you were met with the familiar adoration that was default when he had his attention directed at you. even now — absolutely drained, barely able to keep his balance on the porcelain edge — there was the purest form of love in his eyes. as long as he was able to look at you, there would never be any doubts.

you flashed him a weak and quivering smile, grasping onto every ounce of strength you had to not break down. the love of your life was sitting in front of you barely able to keep his eyes open, beaten and battered after the battle.

up until now, he had stubbornly stayed brave through it all, not once letting his optimism waver for the sake for everyone around him, seeing as everyone was counting on him. and for all these months, he had acted exactly how everyone expected the strongest to act. but you were witnessing how the life threatening events were finally catching up with him.

his head fell forward again once your hands disappeared from his face to grab the hem of his shirt. you felt sick, the fabric turned stale with blood. you didn’t know how much of it was his own or not.

but there was no time to grieve his pain, he needed you right now. carefully you started to tug at his shirt, trying to pull it over his head — it proved difficult, firstly because you had to peel it off his skin, and secondly he didn’t exactly make it easy. “baby, you have to let me help you,” it came out as a plea.

there was a shift in his body, almost able to hear how his muscles creaked when he began to raise his arms. quickly taking advantage of the opportunity, you fisted the gross material and pulled, eventually throwing it aside.

you couldn’t help how you let out a quiet whimper when your eyes landed on his bare chest — cuts, bruises, blood. your boyfriend forever marked from the trauma he had been through, now always serving as a reminder.

pull yourself together, you thought to yourself. there wasn’t room for you to break down right now. you could do that later.

“okay, come on.” you stepped over the edge, gently sliding your arms under his to help him get in the tub. with some struggle and grunts, you eventually had him between your legs. “it’s okay, just relax. i got you,” you whispered into his ear, causing his head to fall back against your shoulder. his eyes were closed, breathing slow and deep.

you were a little lost on what to do next, his stature so massive compared to yours. any movement you did to help him became awkward, finding it hard to manoeuvre your own limbs around him — but you tried your best, grabbing the shower head and turning the water on.

“sorry, sorry, sorry,” you mumble against his temple, his body flinching when the cold water made contact with his skin. it didn’t take too long before you felt his body relax again when the temperature turned bearable.

first you let the water slide down his chest, tenderly rubbing your hands along his skin to get the worst of the stains off of him.

“oh, my satoru, i’m so sorry. i love you.” you continued to whisper affirmations, not even sure he was present enough to actually hear what you were saying.

you filled your cupped hand with water, lifting it to his head, carefully pouring it over his head and brushing his hair out of his face.

then, barely audible, he breathed your name. just your name.

instinctively you squeezed your cheek against him, arms clinging on around him. you own clothes were now soaked, having the water just run over the two of you, but you didn’t care. right now you were solely focused of the sensation of feeling him against you, in your arms, still alive despite it all.

“will you be able to stand?” after half an hour of tenderly scrubbing his body clean and washing his hair, it seemed the warmth of the water had caused some power return to his body. it wasn’t much, but enough for him to get on his feet and step out of the tub with a little help from you.

you had him grab the sink so you would be able to take off your wet clothes. you threw them in the tub, a task for later, leaving you standing in your underwear. that was the least of you worries at the moment, grabbing a towel off the rack before standing in front of him again.

”lean forward, please.” he did as he was told, throwing the towel over his head and you started to dry his hair.

it gave your mind time to run wild, thinking of how close you were to losing him tonight. never be able to trace lines long his skin, never kiss his lips again, waking up in your shared bed alone.

you had subconsciously started to sniffle, fighting the tears. you didn’t want to cry. you wanted to be strong, like he had been for so long. for one evening, you wanted to be the person he had been for everyone else — for you.

his strong hand circled your wrist, abruptly stopping your movements. a grunt escaped him as the towel fell from his head to rest around his neck.

once again his gaze connected with yours, simply taking your breath away. “i’m still here.” his voice was low, raspy, unlike his own.

you blinked away the tears that were so close to spilling over into waterfalls down your cheeks, feeling your chin tremble making it all so much harder.

you nodded, attention flittering between his eyes. he was right, he was after all still here, against all odds. safe. sound. alive.

despite still standing, there was a limited reservoir of energy left in him, evident by how he was fighting to keep his eyes open. “let’s get you to bed.”

again he threw his arm over your shoulders for support before you walked for the bedroom. you took your time, short and staggered steps through the halls that were so eerily quiet. reaching the bedroom, you helped him lay down on the mattress, a long, content exhale of relief leaving him as he finally let his muscles relax completely, melting into the bed.

you didn’t hesitate to climb up next to him, placing your head on his naked chest and draping your arm across his stomach out of habit. you head rose and sank with the slow expansions of his breathing — then you felt it.

his heart — hearing the thumps, feeling the beating against your ear. you couldn’t stifle the tears anymore, running across your nose and landing on his chest. for the entire evening you had seen him move, grunting and growling, occasionally muttering words you couldn’t make out.

but feeling his heart was different, the proof you needed to ground yourself in the reality that he was actually still breathing. you would still be able to feel his embrace when reunited at the end of the day, hear his laugh at the dead of night when you should be sleeping, love him for as long as he was still breathing.

his arms tightened around you, securing you close to him as the sobs started to spill past your lips. “not going anywhere, love,” he mumbled, “you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

of course he still found it in himself to serve a harmless joke, causing you to huff a sorry excuse for a chuckle between your sobs. “you’re such an idiot.”

his chest vibrated softly under you, hearing a low rumble that was supposed to be a chuckle in return. “sorry.” the audible smirk in his voice actually brought you comfort.

“i love you,” he whispered after a while.

focusing on steadying your voice before opening your mouth to talk. “i love you too.”

“we’ll be okay.”

“i know.”

#— ଓ my creative corner #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo oneshot #satoru #gojo #gojo satoru #jjk satoru gojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #satoru x reader #dividers by cafekitsune

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livelaughloveluffy · 8 months ago

Note

imagine luffy confessing his admiration and love for you after seeing each other after 2 years, before being separated the two of you were becoming more intimate with each other and seeking one another out during downtimes cuddling, holding hands, or just wanting the comfort of one another

confession - monkey d. luffy

a/n: thank you for the ask!!! it literally came at the perfect time!! i was planning on writing a confession series with the boys and i love your addition to the prompt!! since you specifically said two years, i think you know exactly where i'm going with this, so luffy's confession will take place post-time skip!! these will definitely be longer fics, but know that there will definitely be similar fics in the future!

a/n: i did proof-read, however it was more like proof-skimmed if im being honest

enies lobby // paramount war spoilers under the cut!!!

ngl, there's a little bit hurt here... but there is also plenty of comfort and fluff to make up for it 😭💀

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the first thing you learned about your captain was that he has zero concept of personal space. this wasn't something that particularly bothered you.. however it was definitely an adjustment from what you were used to.

as one of first few members to join the straw hat pirates, you and luffy had lots of time with just the two of you, giving you more than your fair share of opportunities to get to know each other. the captain really enjoyed your presence, as you seemed to just get him. it was one of the many reasons he asked you to join his crew in the first place. but in actuality, he was always drawn to you from the second he first saw you.

something about the way you carried yourself, so elegantly but so sure of yourself, even in combat you were a wonder to his eyes. when he finally got a chance to talk to you, he suddenly just had this overwhelming feeling that he couldn't imagine a life without you in it.

many days and night on the going merry were spent making sharing jokes and obnoxiously laughing at them, sneaking way too many snacks from the kitchen until sanji caught you both, and tons of crazy and fun adventures were shared together.

the countless times luffy would run up to you with a huge smile on his face, grabbing your hand in his, exclaiming "you have to see this!! come on!!" before he would whisk you away to some small silly shenanigan of his was a frequent occurrence, but one that you had become to enjoy dearly.

the second his fingers interlocked around yours, everything just felt better, even for just a second. and you could've sworn he felt it too. he'd smile just a bit wider, laugh a bit louder, and pull you a little bit closer.

•♡•

it wasn't until the shock of losing robin and breaking into enies lobby to rescue her that had finally bonded you two even closer than you already were. watching luffy being unable to move after defeating rob lucci had to be one to the scariest moments of your life.

it wasn't until the whole crew was back together on a new ship ready to conquer your next adventure, that you finally got some alone time with luffy. you and chopper had to beg him to rest and recover from his injuries. but he only agreed to do so if you kept him company.

"lu, are you awake?" you whispered, walking into the dark shared boys room, finding luffy laying down on his cot. "chopper said it's time to take your meds, so i brought them for you."

a tired and groggy luffy rolled over to greet you, taking a seat at the edge of his cot, you smoothed down his crazy bed-head before handing him is meds. "do i have to take them?" he pleaded, eyes wide in hopes he could make you pity him enough to say no. "i'll get sanji to make you an extra dessert if you do" with that being said, he took his meds without any more hesitation or fussing.

you began standing up from his cot, ready to sweet-talk your way to a special dessert made my sanji (he didn't need to know who it was really for anyways), when luffy grabbed your hand stopping you in your tracks. "where are you going? i thought you'd stay here with me?"

"i was just going to get sanji to start on-" but before you could finish your sentence, your captain pulled you into his arms and cot. "i don't want you to leave yet.." he said, whining with his face buried in the crook of your neck "stay for a little bit longer.."

who were you to disobey the captain's orders?

•♡•

cuddling with your captain was truly a special event. it wasn't nearly as common as you had hoped, since luffy often refuses to sit still long enough for it to happen.

warm rubber limbs wrapped two times too many around your body, his soft dark brown hair tickling your cheek as he buried his face in your neck and shoulder. luffy smelled like the ocean breeze, sweat, and sunshine (which sounds crazy, but if sunshine had a smell, it would smell like luffy), a scent that you had grown so extremely comforted by, it felt like a warm hug, or just getting home after a long day.

"lu, don't you want me to get your dessert?" you whispered. his soft tired voice only had enough energy to mumble out a soft "later.." before he drifted off to sleep.

and just for tonight, you would stay. soaking up this opportunity and holding onto it for dear life.

•♡•

when your crew had initially stopped at sabaody, you truly thought you were in for a fun time. yes, you always expected a little hitch in the plans, that's just natural considering your captain, but nothing could prepare you for what was to come.

•♡•

as per usual, you're running for your lives from government officials, and countless other enemies, this time the stakes higher than they had ever been before, with crew members disappearing right in front of your eyes. before you knew it, it was just you and luffy left. tears welling in your eyes as luffy lets out an ear-shattering scream for you to just run.

you swear you didn't even see bartholomew kuma in front of you, but the next thing you knew you were shooting through the sky, heading god knows where, separated from your crew and your beloved captain.

•♡•

the island you ended up at was less than ideal. between fighting for your life daily, attempting to find some sort of civilization, and being separated from the people you loved the most in the world, you really couldn't imagine anything worse.

that wasn't until the day you finally found a town, hordes of people were crowding a newspaper stand, after making your way through the crowd, and grabbing a paper to see what all the fuss was about, did your heart finally break into two.

the headline read: portgas d. ace - died in action during paramount war

your eyes began to overflow with tears, just imagining the amount of pain luffy was in, and you could do absolutely nothing to help. you momentarily lost yourself in the grief of it all, the man you loved, separated from the people he loved and trusted the most, witnessing the death of his brother right in front of his eyes, all alone.

and the shock didn't end there. when a couple days later, a pit of dread inside your stomach when you heard the same crowds out again huddled around the newspaper stand, only to find your captain on the cover.

at first, knowing he was safe and somewhat okay made you drop to your knees with relief that you almost overlooked the drawing on his arm: 3D2Y

•♡•

the only thing that got you through those 2 years always from luffy and the crew was keeping extremely busy. if you weren't constantly training in combat, practicing new techniques with your devil fruit, reading anything and everything under the sun from history to medicine to stupid trashy romance novels, learning new languages, and a thousand other skills. you hardly had time for sleep, let alone time to think, because if for a second you stopped, you would fall apart.

•♡•

it was by sheer luck you managed to avoid the hassle that caribou and his crew had caused, turns out you made the right call to just stay aboard the sunny.

the second your eyes met luffy and his feet touched the deck, his arms were already wrapped around you so tight that you forgot how to breathe for a second. after 2 years of holding back your tears, this one hug is what finally made you come undone. you buried your face into the crook of your captain's neck, and he placed his hand on top of your head, stroking your hair as you sobbed. "i missed you too, so much more than you know." he whispered as he held you, this time he'd never let you go again.

•♡•

the voyage to fishman island proved to be the best time for the crew to finally relax and get to enjoy in each other's presence for the first time in years, truly a great reason for an over-the-top banquet on its own. and boy, what a banquet it was.

•♡•

you had deeply missed girl talk with robin and nami, all three of you sharing stories from your time apart, when a hand suddenly slipped into yours. you turn your head to the bright wide hazel eyes of your captain "um.. there's something i want to tell you...in private.." he said, with this adorable little lopsided smile with a hint of blush spreading across his cheeks that you had never seen before, but committed to memory the second you did. the girls smiled at you, gesturing it was okay to step away and you could catch up later.

he whisked you away to his favorite spot, the top of the hull, in a painful amount of silence. your mind suddenly overwhelmed conjuring up the millions of things he could possible say to you. after helping you get atop the lion's head of the thousand sunny, with luffy standing in front of you, he placed his hands hips lifting you up and letting you wrap your legs around his waist before he gently sat down, and then your mind just stopped.

the familiar warmth of luffy's chest pressed against yours, arms around your back, and cheek pressed up against yours with his chin resting on your shoulder. oh, how you had missed this.

turning your face ever so slightly to look at his, did you finally meet his eyes. with a small smile, he looked at you and with a small giggle and a tiny voice he said "hi". you couldn't help but let your heart melt right there as you shyly smiled back and returned the greeting.

with your eyes still on his, you couldn't help but ask "lu, what did you want to talk to me about?" the curiosity and suspense was starting to make you want to crawl out of your skin.

"oh! right!! i wanted to tell you that i love you!" he cheerly replied, so casual that you questioned if you had misheard him.

you couldn't help yourself but to ask for clarification "wait, what did you just say luffy?"

and with his usual luffy smile, he loudly and proudly repeated the words you thought you misheard "i said i love you!!"

for a second, your heart stopped. "you love me? lu, are you su-"

but before you could begin to question him, he put a hand on the side of your face and pulled you in for a small kiss. once his lips finally left yours, you looked at him with wide eyes and bright red cheeks, searching for an explanation.

he softly began to explain "i couldn't wait to tell you any longer... after these past two years.. i just... i want you to know that i love you."

your eyes turned glassy, and with your captain's wide waiting eyes, you couldn't stop yourself as the words "i love you too, lu." poured out of your mouth. pulling your captain as close as you could to you, you held him knowing this time you'd never have to let him go.

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a/n: ahhhhhhhhh, i live and die for calling luffy "lu", its truly my favorite pet name in the world for him 😭😭😭 hopefully i was able to do your ask some justice!!

a/n: i just checked my activity center on tumblr and !!!! omg thank you so much for 100 followers!! the amount of love and support i've been receiving on my fics genuinely means the world to me!! so if you're new, or just now finding my blog, thank you for being here!!!

a/n: enjoyed this fic? you can find my masterlist here!!

#one piece #one piece fic #one piece fanfic #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece monkey d luffy #one piece luffy #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy #op luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy fluff #fluff fic #via's fics

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queers-gambit · 8 months ago

Text

Tower Scrolls

prompt: during the Siege of Eregion, Elrond barters for his fiancé's life, and her life's work.

pairing: Elrond x intended!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 4.1k+

note: brain go wonky, don't take this too serious

warnings: we got angst! we got drama! we got spoilers! i think it's more hurt and comfort, but to each their own! there's cursing, character injury, canon-complicit character death, blood, depiction of abuse and torture, violence, is this a reader insert? i don't know anymore, but i think so. oneshot, filler, very abrupt ending.

Fire rained from the sky. Ash snowed on once white-sand buildings. Tension permeated the air. Blood irrigated soil.

Eregion was under attack.

Elves screamed in despair, Orcs snarled from outside the city walls, and no matter where you turned, you were trapped in this never ending barrage of violent misfortune. To the best of your ability, you manned the city walls and ordered the citizens of Eregion to find shelter, tunnel out of the city, or pick up arms and fight - fight for their homes, their families, their lives.

It was nearly a natural succession of power after dedicating majority of your life to Eregion and Lord Celebrimbor; a common presence, friendly face, such an outstanding ally that few hesitated to take your command. Yet you were met with resistance, some Elves rejecting your orders in favor of this "Annatar, Lord of Gifts," apparently sent from the Valar themselves to aid Celebrimbor in his creative work. They thought he was Lord of Eregion now, and since you were loyal to the previous Lord - who Annatar claimed had lost his ever sharp mind - you were looked upon with the same frown.

So, you did the only thing you thought you could do.

You protected your Lord, almost to the extent of your life. Too many had already fallen, you refused to follow; insisting on remaining with Lord Celebrimbor for the duration of his efforts so long as Annatar was in Eregion. The immortal being wasn't keen on the idea, but Celebrimbor was much soothed around you - so, he agreed, on the condition that your Lord finish his work on the Nine Rings.

After escaping before, Annatar thought the best suited idea would be to chain Lord Celebrimbor to his work bench; knowing you did not have the means to break him free and feeling it was a safe move. However, as you witnessed, the will of the Lord of Eregion was by far stronger than that of The Deceiver.

"I cannot!" You begged your Master. "No, you will not ask this of me! The audacity you possess - "

"You must!" Celebrimbor insisted, taking your cheeks in hand to smush your lips in a pucker. "Listen to me - listen! You have always known right from wrong, but now is not a time for rationality, it's a time for action. He mustn't get the Rings, I need you to run with them. Run away - far, far away from here, use the tunnels - "

"I will not abandon you," you snarled, "nor will I abandon this city, not while she still stands!"

"This is bigger than us, bigger than Eregion," Celebrimbor tried to convey his severity, forcing the Rings in your hand - but you were stubborn. For all the traits he loved, he despised your pigheadedness the most - despite admiring it once upon a time. So, he managed to convince you to cut just his thumb off after originally asking you to take the whole hand so the cuff could slide off, but he downgraded to just his digit for the same desired effect.

"Go," you begged him, tears in your eyes as you wrapped his hand with a clean(ish) cloth to staunch the bleeding. "Go, please, before He returns. Do not look back, my Lord."

"Come with me - "

"I'll hold Him off to give you more time. Now, go. Go!"

It wasn't easy, but Celebrimbor left you behind. No sooner had you confirmed his escape did Annatar return; surveying the workshop and you with sinister eyes.

"Where is he?"

"With luck? Far from here. With hope? Even past that," you answered, stood in the middle of the room - looking as if nothing could phase you. All a lie, of course, but Sauron didn't need to know you were close to pissing your pants out of sheer intimidation. "So... You're Him? I have to admit," you gestured at him, "it's a bit of a let down."

"I have many names - "

"Oh, spare me the personal lore all of Middle-earth knows," you snipped, offering a stale look. "You need a new story."

However, Sauron smirked and circled you, taunting, "I know you know where he went. I know you know where the Rings are, too."

"Then have a look in my mind, see for yourself," you smirked back, "go ahead and see that I purposefully did not ask and my Lord did not tell. Go on, if you do not believe me, have a look and know you are wrong - " You were cut off by your own gasp when Sauron's eyes rolled before he brandished a sword to pierce through your foot and into the floor.

"Where. Is. He?" Sauron seethed in your face; hot breath fanning the fly away hairs.

"Away from you," you managed to grit, the sword in too deep to yank free by yourself. "You'll never find them," you laughed without humor when Sauron's anger got the best of him; storming through the workshop, tearing it apart, searching in vain for Nine Rings that were not there. In his anger, you obtained a series of fresh blemishes as he threw anything he could to the sound of your amusement.

Yet any glimmer of hope in your chest was doused, all traces of faith and humor vanishing when guards lead Celebrimbor back into the workshop; discovering the destroyed forge and you, pinned by a bloody foot in the midst. You couldn't move from your place as the guards surrounded Sauron with the intention to apprehend him, yet you saw the threat before anyone else. You begged the guards, your kin, your brethren, to back away, to take your Lord and flee! You begged them to run. You begged them to listen, to hear you!

But it was too late.

Sauron turned your people on one another and had them slaughter each other before disposing of the final guard himself. You screamed at Celebrimbor to run, nearly tearing the blade through bone as you attempted to reach for the man who had taught you your entire life. The man who gave you a chance. The man who built you a home. The man who introduced you to your intended. The man you loved like a father.

But Sauron's grasp extended to all.

Celebrimbor was beaten senseless, the Dark Lord trying to pry information about the Nine from him by any means. Yet your Lord did not budge... And that's when Sauron turned to you. "Please, no! Don't! She doesn't know anything! I swear, please, spare her!" Celebrimbor pleaded when Sauron ripped the sword from your foot before knocking you to your knees; bowstring pulled back, arrow armed and aimed at your calf. "She doesn't know amything!" Celebrimbor screamed as your first tear fell.

"But you do," Sauron narrated, loosing the arrow into your flesh. You tried to subdue your screams, but the immortal took to alternating between shooting you and Celebrimbor with arrows; though his struck lethally, yours struck painfully. To Sauron, you were a plaything; a token to negotiate with, attempting to withdraw information by offering you harm, thinking it was enough to break Celebrimbor.

He was mistaken.

You panted as blood dribbled from the corner of your mouth, wincing as Sauron's boot came down on your knee; smearing his heel into an open wound with you flat on your back. "She... She doesn't know," Celebrimbor tried again. "She is... She's the Lady of Eregion now, and I would not curse her with such a burden as you have me!"

"Oh, a promotion?" Sauron mused, glancing at you - but you saw his underlying desperation.

"Eregion is no more," you whispered, head lulling on the floor to meet Celebrimbor's eyes and smile sadly. Blood lined your teeth. "It would've been the honor of my life should I have been able to defend your city, my Lord."

"Our city."

"How touching," Sauron's eyes rolled.

"She doesn't know," Celebrimbor repeated in anger.

"I know," Sauron nodded, "I looked in her mind. Still, the bond between you is greater - perhaps, you'd be more inclined to share with her?"

"He'd never," you chuckled in delirium, "he'd never sacrifice this world for the likes of you." Another arrow thumped into your shoulder, making you groan as Sauron angrily tossed the bow aside. Fearing your life was soon to be extinguished, you whispered, "I-I'm so sorry, my Lord. I failed you."

"No, do not say such a thing," Celebrimbor insisted, Sauron stalking over you before squatting in front of the Elven smith, "for it is I who failed you..."

Sauron sighed, sounding condescending yet soft as he reached over to stroke Celebrimbor's cheek, "Look what you have done to yourself."

You didn't care for his poisoned words, knowing your time was limited - just like Celebrimbor's. Yet the Dark Lord tried one last tactic: mercy. He promised to end your joint suffering should the location of the Nine be revealed. Your Lord was defiant still. So, Sauron tried gaslighting, and when that didn't work, he begged, "Please."

Still, it did not work and Celebrimbor affirmed his time was ending... So, naturally, after he plucked up a spear, Sauron threatened, "There are ways of keeping you both alive." In Sindarin, he added, "Friend." To the look of horror on Celebrimbor's bloody face, Sauron offered, "Must I show you my mastery of that craft as well?"

"'Craft'?" Your Lord chuckled ruefully. Then he spat, "Your only craft is treachery. So pure, it shall betray the very hand that forges it."

Sauron stepped over your limp, bleeding form too casually, quietly seething, "Your words are empty."

"No," Celebrimbor insisted, sitting himself up slightly. "No, hear me. Hear me!" Your dimming eyes widened as your Lord found his feet, back against the stone pillar he had once slumped against as support. "Shadow of Morgoth! Hear the dying words of Celebrimbor! With only Y/N, Lady of Eregion as witness!" You didn't move, you couldn't... You were defeated, you knew there was no way Sauron would let you leave this tower alive. So, you listened and bore witness for as long as you were capable of doing so. "The Rings of Power shall destroy you. And in the end, I foresee one alone shall prove your," he shouted, "utter ruin!"

"NO!" You screamed when Sauron turned, shouting in anger as he strode over you and stabbed Celebrimbor with his spear. You could only watch in fearful disgust as the Dark Lord, still in fair form, hoisted the Lord of Eregion up the stone pillar as if a flag on a pole.

Celebrimbor was in obvious pain, mouth agape, blood dribbling from his slathered lips. Sauron's words were still heard despite the low, quiet register, "You're wrong. I am their Creator." He growled, "I am their Master!"

"No," Celebrimbor's head shook as if pitying the immortal. "You are their... Prisoner. Sauron, Lord..." He trailed as his life's light was snuffed, "of the Rings."

You let your grief manifest in tears, watching as Celebrimbor's eyes found yours - conveying his goodbye as he mouthed one last apology... Then deflating as his soul, as promised, vacated this form to return to the shores. You didn't voice your note of Sauron's single tear, just staring at your Lord in disbelief - until the Dark Lord planted the end of his spear to the ground, staking Celebrimbor above all.

"N-No, no, wait!" You begged, trying to turn over onto your stomach to pull yourself across the ground. "No, please, please, take him down - get him down from there! Please, do not - do not leave him up there!" You cried out as arrow shafts were irritated back to life, reaching blindly - helplessly - upward as if you could reach the Lord of Eregion from his hoist.

Sauron watched you for a moment, the Orcs heard marching up the tower. With a swift swing of his leg, Sauron kicked your jaw - effectively knocking you out and overturning your body to your back; splayed out as if on display... Similar, but not akin, to Celebrimbor - whose pooling blood soaked into your gown.

Through your unconsciousness, Sauron eventually ordered Eregion be razed to the ground, every Elf slaughtered, and the Elven leaders be brought before him - unharmed. He gave specific instruction for every scroll in Celebrimbor's workshop to be torched; his way of punishing you for your insolence over supporting and protecting Celebrimbor.

When you awoke, the tower was quiet. You stiffly lifted your hand to your jaw; rubbing it tenderly, letting your sight refocus and being acutely aware of every feeling in your body.

"Fuuuuuuuck," you whimpered, trying to sit up but being unable due to protruding arrows. You went limp again, feeling a single twinge of anger you had to wake up because your eyes caught sight of and stared at Celebrimbor.

You failed...

You gasped shrilly when hands seized your upper arms and heaved; lugging you over the shoulders of two Orcs as a third swiped at the arrows to break them in the most painful way possible. Considering their brutish nature, you would've thought they'd have lopped your head off and moved along - but instead, they began carrying you towards the door.

"Wha-What's happening?" You asked through a slur, feet dragging under you, spying one of the Orcs gathering scrolls and tomes you spent your life writing alongside Celebrimbor in their dirty arms. "Wait - wait - what're you doing? What're you doing!?"

"Quiet!" An Orc snarled, dropping the hilt of his dagger to the soft part of the base of your head where it connected to your neck. You were silent out of sheer pain.

Down the tower you were drug, brought into the devastated courtyard where Orcs snarled at you from all sides; the two that carried you dropping you on your shattered knees. You were held at knifepoint as Orcs streamed from the tower and dropped your scrolls and tomes in several different piles a short distance away. Head injury caused your sight to blur in and out, but you knew what they were doing... What they intended.

"Please, please, don't do this," you whimpered, hearing several Orcs laugh. "No... No, no, no, no, please! Don't - " You had no more fight as collectively, your records were so extensive that several piles were made, few set ablaze.

All around you, Elves were slaughtered mercilessly, bodies left behind where they fell; the sounds of the city dying with them as the Orcs ran out of the innocent lives to claim. You could only watch. Before you, the Orcs tossed banded lassos around the decorated statue of Faenor, evident their desecration knew no bounds.

Yet hope sparked... The blade at your neck tightening when you perked up upon seeing several Orcs leading few saved Elves into the courtyard - your fiancé one of them.

"Elrond!" You cried, the Orc snarling a hiss as the hand in your hair yanked back. You struggled to the point of blood draw when Elrond's sight casted on you - trying to escape his captors, but being held back.

"Y/N!" He called back, the High King Gil-galad at his side and finding you amongst the rubble, too. The King muttered something you couldn't hear, but to Elrond, he understood the Sindarin word: wait.

"Hey!" You snapped, blade drawing a line of blood from your neck; pressure mounting as he pressed closer. You growled in annoyance.

Faenor toppled to the ground, shattering the heart of any Elf left to witness - Orcs mounting him, ravaging for hidden and seen treasures. With Gil-galad, Elrond, and other survivors, the Orcs moved inward as if to ensure the Elves had a front row viewing to the incineration of their culture.

"Y/N," Gil-galad called to attention, earning several snarls and hisses, "where is Lord Celebrimbor?"

"Dead," you whimpered, Orc growling at you in reprimand.

Elrond's eyes swept over the scene and swiftly understood the impending doom. The largest of the scroll piles was before the Elves now, an Orc pacing around it with his torch alight, tears down your cheeks as you couldn't look away as if in a trance you did not realize.

"No, Uruk! No!" Elrond begged when the Orc went to drop the flame; you struggling against your captor, both hands around his meaty wrist.

"No!" Gil-galad's beg echoed around you.

"That is the full record of Celebrimbor's works," Elrond tried to make the Orcs understand potential ramifications. "The wisdom of all who ever dwelt in this place, all accounted by the Lady Y/N, whose work cannot be found outside Eregion! Its value is beyond jewels or even blood! Take our lives," Elrond gestured to himself and the King, you struggling again on horridly abused knees, "but leave it be, I beg you."

Perhaps you were far too used to people listening when your fiancé spoke because you eagerly sat forward best you could while thinking perhaps the Orcs would listen to Elrond. Imagine your acute and heavy despair when the Orc laughed manically and turned to shove the torch into the bundle of fragile parchment. "NO!" You sobbed uselessly, watching the last of your life's work go up in flame.

You fought against the Orc's grip as Gil-galad snarled, "Cowardly traitors!"

"You fucking bastards!" Your head reared back to (painfully - nobody wins with a headbutt) break the Orc's nose. He released you as other Orcs were wrestling Gil-galad to the ground, able to pick up a blade and take out three too-close enemies.

It was the first time Elrond heard such language fall from your lips, but all he could register was the Orc punching you in the jaw in an attempt to subdue you - blood spitting to the side, seemingly darkening a bruise already blooming. He's never felt such rage.

Elrond fought with his bare hands; elbowing the Orcs behind him, punching the ones before him, fighting to get closer to you. He got ahold of a torch, screaming in white-hot anger as he set the Orc that hit you ablaze; dropping the torch and taking you into his embrace.

"My love," he breathed in your ear, able to peck your cheek just as the snarling Orcs forcefully ripped you out of his arms. "No, no!" He tried to reach out for you, but both were wrangled in.

"Please, don't! NO! No, no, no!" You gasped when Elrond was taken in custody, yet it wasn't you who saved him.

Another Orc reminded, "No! Lord Sauron wanted their leaders unharmed."

"Well, what about her? She looks injured," A different Orc growled, jostling your shoulder and pointing his dagger at your throat. Elrond was forced to his knees as you were, facing one another.

"Lord Sauron did that, said to discipline her should she resist," the Orc answered in a hiss, others shoving more Elves into the courtyard - including Arondir from the battlefield. A blade was held to Elrond's throat as your head bowed in the heat of the bonfire; being ripped up by your hair and forced to turn to watch the flames. The Orcs noticed the pair of you seemingly cared more about the literature than your lives, so, they thought you should relish in this moment.

So Elrond was held in a similar position, but his sight was on you; watching you crumple into despair while more Orcs tossed the last of the scrolls into the flames. Your life, since a youthful student, had been spent intermittently in Eregion under the care of Lord Celebrimbor, whom you thought of as an adoptive father, learning heraldry. He let you work at his side, keeping accurate, detailed record of his philosophies, ideas, processes, and creations for the histories. Yet, now, they wafted into the air as ash - lost to this Age, never to be recovered or duplicated or seen again.

Once more, you dropped your head, earning a backhand to the temple. Gritting your teeth, you let the Orc force your head up but shut your eyes tightly, defiantly; hearing their breathing turn ragged. "Cut her eyelids open!" An Orc barked.

"That's not what Lord Sauron said," another seethed with refusal.

"She's resisting!"

An Orc scoffed and stabbed your thigh with a dagger, eyes flying open as you gasped in pain. "There! See!" It laughed, holding you in a chokehold as tears leaked down your cheeks. Elrond struggled and shuddered against his captors, hating the sight of you dismantling yourself emotionally, but to witness your abuse, he hated more.

Then, from a short distance, a horn bellowed.

"Dwarves!" King Gil-galad identified, the Elves rejuvenated by the surprise (and delayed) arrival of aid. In tandem, they began to resist; yourself included by ripping the dagger from your thigh and driving it into your captor's ribs; praying flesh came too when the blade was ripped free.

He grunted and shoved you forward onto your chest and hands, able to flop over to watch your approaching demise - only to discover Elrond surging up to the Orc and snapping its neck with his bare hands.

"Elrond!" You gasped when the Orc fell to the side... Dead.

"C'mere," the half-Elf you intended to marry panted, reaching down to yank you onto your bloody feet; catching you on his chest when your weight buckled. "I got you, I've got you, love, you're safe," he whispered, hoisting you into his embrace before turning for the stream of Dwarves. "Durin!" He greeted jovially.

But when the Dwarf turned, it wasn't the ginger prince Elrond knew like a brother. The dark haired Dwarf heaved a sigh, informing, "The Prince... Is in mourning," before rushing off into the fray.

"'Mourning'?" You repeated in a daze. "Over Disa?"

"His father, perhaps?" Elrond guessed, tightening his arms to lift you and turn away from an Orc rushing forward. He blocked the enemy's advance, trying to keep secure hold of you - leaving an opportunity for you to use the last of your strength to drive your dagger (still in hand) into the Orc's throat. "Good girl," Elrond praised as the creature fell, panting from exhaustion. "Can you still fight?"

"I can barely stand on my own, Elrond," you whimpered, gripping his neck and shoulders in a vice grip to remain upright.

He nodded, "Right." With a sniffle, he lifted you again and rushed for an alcove, depositing you in rubble before caressing your face. "How bad?" He asked softly.

"Enough."

"Let me see - "

"Elrond, there's no time," you snatched his hands when he attempted to reach for your skirt, "the city is under attack, it's falling to Sauron - you need to help them. Go, go fight."

"I won't leave you."

Your ears rang with the same words you told Celebrimbor.

"You have to, this is bigger than any of us," you repeated what you'd been told.

"Elrond!" Gil-galad was heard calling, Arondir appearing in the mouth of the alcove.

"Over here!"

When the High King arrived, he paused to take in the sight of the pair of you. "Good," he panted, "you're both alive. The Dwarves are aiding our escape, we must leave now... The city is fallen," he directed at you.

"You should all go," you sniffled.

With confusion, Elrond snapped, "Without you?"

"I've business to see to in the tower."

"The tower will fall," Arondir explained, slowly lowering to a squat to put himself on your level. "Whatever you think is left is lost, my Lady."

"Celebrimbor's in there. I was taken before I could get him down."

"'Down'?" Gil-galad repeated, "What does that mean?"

Tears filled your eyes, telling the trio what Sauron did to you and your Lord; the King insisting hope was lost and it was time to go. "I cannot walk," you whispered, shaking your head, "and my injuries surpass - "

"I will carry you," Elrond rushed, holding your cheek gently, "I will not leave you behind."

"No... She will walk," Gil-galad stepped forward, revealing his Ring of Power, Vilya. You were unsure what his intention, but Elrond moved behind you to let you lean back into his chest as the King chanted his prayers.

Yet you passed out before fully healed.

"My King - "

"She's alive," Gil-galad soothed Elrond, the hand hosting Vilya laid to your forehead, "just exhausted. She's been through much, far more than I care to fathom. Sauron took it easy on her, he used mortal weapons against her."

"He didn't intend to kill her?" Arondir questioned.

"He needed her alive - whatever the reason," Gil-galad frowned.

"Will she wake?" Elrond worried.

"I have faith she will, trust in the Valar," the King nodded. "Now, if you intend to fight another day, we must go. Now."

And so, the Lady of Eregion was smuggled out of the smoking city in the arms of the Elf she loved, leaving behind all she knew and created. By the Third Age, at least one scroll written by her hand could be found in every library of Middle-earth; and in the Great Library Elrond built for her, detailed accounts of Lord Celebrimbor's work as recalled and honored by his adopted daughter, future Lady of Imladris.

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

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x-prettyboy-x · 6 days ago

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Clean you up

Established relationship! Erik × reader

Hello again, I felt bad for what I did to you guys in the first one, so i wrote an alternative version💕again, I am not a writer, so forgive me for how bad this is🫶🏻

Pairing: Erik Campbell x reader

Warnings: mentions of injuries and blood, obviously spoilers

No gendered language used:)

851 words

Masterlist

Erik was never the type to show he was in pain, when he'd come home from his shift at the tattoo shop and casually mentioned the fire and the fact he'd been branded and you know.. almost died, talking as if it was nothing, you freaked out. He'd grabbed your face with the most gentle care he could manage- you took note of his shaking hands- and whispered reassurances to you.

"Baby, I'm fine, I kicked deaths ass. Maybe I'm just invincible, huh? And the brand is pretty fuckin sick" He'd laughed, and that laugh is what managed to calm you down.

You'd been pacing back and forth in the living room when everyone came back from the hospital, Stefani and Charlie first, then their mom and Bobby, then Erik. Looking more terrified than you'd ever seen him. His entire body shaking, blood trailing down his nose and mouth and staining the front of his shirt.

Stefani quickly walked over and grabbed your shoulders carefully, knowing you were seconds from a full on mental breakdown.

"Hes okay. We cheated death. We're all safe, we cleared the list. It was a.. beyond stupid idea but Erik managed to kill Bobby and bring him back. He got.. hurt in the process but its nothing deadly, okay? He refused help at the hospital. He just wanted you."

You wanted nothing more than to ask what the hell she meant by he killed Bobby, but seeing yours boyfriend's face, you'd have to wait to be curious.

You were hesitant as you walked over and grabbed Erik's hand, like he was a wounded deer that would get up and run away at any sudden movement. You'd carefully pulled him into his room and set him on the bed, grabbing the first aid kit from his closet- your idea, not his. You'd demanded it after the fire- and moving to sit next to him to address what was wrong.

"You wanna tell me what hurts?" You'd whispered, your voice shaking. You didnt wanna cry, didnt wanna make him anymore distressed.

He didnt reply, just pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. You looked him over and noticed his ears first, the rings missing and the lobes ripped in half, then his nose, then his nipples. You winced under your breath and just silently started to clean the wounds you could see.

"I thought.. I was gonna die. I was gonna die and Bobby would die because of me. It was my idea, I made him eat the stupid fuckin peanut butter cup and took his epi pen. I promised I'd bring him back. He almost died because of me." His words were so quiet they were almost inaudible.

So that's what Stefani meant. It still didnt explain how he ended up hurt, clearly more had happened than he would say. But you won't push, not rightnow.

You cleaned up the wounds the best you could and set the first aid kit aside, sighing shakily as you looked him over. "Kiki, you need to go to the hospital, let them stich you up. It shouldn't be too bad since the wounds are small, but you need to-"

"No hospitals. I don't wanna step foot in another hospital. Not now." He was quick to cut you off, and you fell silent.

He pulled you into his lap before the silence went onto too long and you froze, looking down at him.

"I'll worry about it later.. Just want you. Bobby almost died because of me and I was close to never seeing you again."

You sighed and ran a hand through his hair carefully. Erik took a deep breath and just rested his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

"Tell me what happened, baby.. please."

You listened carefully as he explained everything, Iris's friend telling them the only way to survive this was to die and come back, or to kill someone and take the years they had left. He told you the plan he'd come up with. He told you about how the mri machine had ripped out his piercings, how he'd been pulled into it, how a nurse had rushed in to turn the machine off just in time. He told you how the only thing he could think about was Bobby suffocating next to him, while he could do nothing about it.

Even now, he was more upset about the fact Bobby was in danger, he couldn't care less about his own pain, about how he almost died. Again.

"This isn't your fault, you did it, right? Bobbys fine.. everyone's fine, thanks to you. You saved everyone left on the list. You kicked deaths ass again.." you'd said the words with a small smile on your face, hesitant as you added, "And at least you got to keep your favorite piercing"

You were trying to lighten the mood a little, hopefully make him feel even just a little better. And it'd worked. You'd felt him let out a small laugh from where he was laying on your chest. And like before, that's all it took to finally calm you.

#emson writes♡#erik campbell x reader #erik campbell #final destination #final destination bloodlines

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furiouskettle · 2 months ago

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random Look Outside character headcanons/opinions

(may be incorrect cause ive just been watching playthroughs. going off of the info i got from that which may be missing some parts.)

body horror talk, spoilers from all over the game and ending under the cut.

Sam

I love sam. hes just nice (potentially a pushover) and a dork. HES JUST A GUY!!!! i love that the game gives him time to show you how he’s processing his/your actions?

Really funny to me that him being unemployed is part of the reason he’s the protagonist. Can’t become a monster if you don’t have to go outside.

Am curious why he isn't working at the grocery store (if he did work there). did he leave or get fired?

OW losing an arm has GOTTA HURT. i cast pain upon this man.

his hair is just Like That no matter what he does

Joel

mY SWEET BABY BOYYYY i want to see him grow up big and strong (not too big and strong considering the everything but you get the idea).

looks like he has some form of "vision" post-mutation?? he doesnt seem to have any issue playing video games so i opt that he can “see”, just not very well. it’s short range and fuzzy. might be more of a feeling of his surroundings than real vision? whatever it is, it's good enough to play super jump lad.

I also HC that he’d developed shortsightedness when he had eyes, just that nobody had noticed yet that he’s squinting at things more than he should…

I think his biting/devouring is involuntary when he’s agitated. thankfully it hasn’t come to him biting any friends so far!

get this boy some popsicle sticks to gnaw on. not even for tooth reasons. eight year olds just love chewing on popsicle sticks. (preferably after popsicle has been consumed)

Apart from not fully understanding everything going on due to his age, he seems a bit dazed from the mutation and probably has brain fog for a few days after, which is Definitely not helping sam with the Oh My God this kid doesnt know his parents are dead. OH GOD I KILLED THIS KID'S PARENTS AND I HAVE STOLEN HIM AWAY

oddly chill with losing teeth. has taken some of his baby teeth out by himself! gives joel my childhood trait of oh hey my tooth is wobbling! lemme get rid of that real quick. twist twist twist

Jeanne

i dont have much to say on her atm but she’s lovely and really doesnt deserve what happens to her. on the bright side the worst seems to be over for her?? if she’s still growing does that mean that she’s gonna have to be like “oop a new head’s budding. gotta get someone to lop that off for me before it becomes a problem.”

Lyle

FIRST OF ALL i LOVE how his design kind of references how old cameras had to be covered with fabric so the photo wouldn't fail.

i think he wore glasses when he was human! …the lenses got absorbed into his face. the camera he was holding did too. I think he didn’t own as many cameras as he ended up with. That big one he has seems specific enough that maybe that was the one he was using to snap a sky pic??? idk if he touched any other cameras after that but THAT one has gotta be the one he was holding.

idk if he finds spiders GROSS but he is definitely the kind of person to be afraid to be in the same room as one.

I think most of his legs are telescopic to some degree! he just doesnt see the need to make himself any taller than he already is, except for photography reasons.

reiterating from one of my doodle posts, i like to think his eye lenses shed over time. if you took off the lens early on an eye (via injury) it would have weak vision. built-in glasses!

I hope the soul photo thing is like a special attack thing for him that he has to set up intentionally? it feels mean to have all the photos he takes with his built in cameras be the soul-stealing kind. he does take photos by accident/involuntarily a lot but the one he takes after the kiss with sam is totally on purpose and he absolutely still has that one. concerning.

idk if he gets out of his apartment much during the Visit, but it could be that HE hasnt seen any mutations worse than his/doesnt know that sam has totally seen worse. Hence why he's trying to hide so hard from Sam (not to mention the guy is crushing HARD, he's not gonna wanna be vulnerable in front of him).

....also hideous monster or not hes naked under there. i dont blame him for wanting to stay cloaked

Xaria & Monty

oh god theyre art students. that explains SO much.

very funny to me that xaria heard a voice in her head compelling her to check out the window and decided she’s gonna be contrarian about it.

I imagine a lot of Monty’s projects are setting something on fire. shows up to class with a pile of plastic baby heads. sets them ablaze. the most important part of being an art student is the time honored tradition of bullshitting some sort of meaning that’s gonna satisfy the lecturer.

Probably decent at life drawings but he keeps burning his works. (not to mention realism doesnt appear to be his kind of style)

Xaria feels like she’d stick to slightly more traditional mediums (painting, sculpture)? a lot of surrealism, mixed media, themes of nonconformity and violence. has totally used blood in a project before. More intentional about the meaning of her art- the intention being that she wants to make people uncomfortable.

i think it’d be hilarious if they’d been binging horror movies the night before. funniest options are The Thing and Tetsuo the iron man.

Since Sam mutates into something regardless of what you do up on the roof, i’m guessing the same goes for these two if you bring them up there. cool/nasty idea for their mutation is they fuse into one being... not necessarily an idea im running with atm but fun to think abt anyway

Sybil

AGH, sybil….. i love her. she's just really nice...

I think she’s in some sort of schrödinger’s cat situation - dead and alive until observed. or maybe like a quark (particle that cannot be observed but you can see the effects of it).

it’s unclear if someone ever was next door to you, but if I recall the astronomers tell you there’s no way she’s there? (cant recall if its bc she was “dead” by then or if its the totally wrong floor.)

the game says it was a mystery what happened to sybil, but a potential course of events could be your Real Neighbour just got sucked outta their window same as what happens to you if you look and sybil THINKS shes next door to you.

I’m pretty sure she’s in all of the walls? some of her text implies that, even tho she doesnt seem to be really aware of it.

far as she knows, she's in her apartment. what's her apartment like? well, it's an apartment. it's got walls. she can see out the peephole. there's.... furniture. What else do you want?

(man. between her, the pipe lady, the water pump guy, and the boiler room the walls are CROWDED. no wonder the roaches decide to move to your place.)

The Visitor

what do i even say about it? it is, in the most direct meaning of the word, awesome. it’s unfathomably immense. it's beautiful. it's horrifying. I love that in a single eye out of infinite eyes, it sees a miniscule creature who just wants to live. Sam becomes a smaller reflection of the Visitor, and the visitor gains a fraction of what makes sam human…

I wonder, did the visitor even “exist” until witnessed? same as sybil, maybe it could have some quantum thing going on. i can’t speculate on this any more than the astronomers have.

Sam (ritual-denial)

while it’s the nicest ending possible, i still feel kinda bad for sam :( he can never be truly alone anymore, but at the same time isn’t becoming a giant god-creature kind of isolating? sure, he must grow used to it over time but MAN. WHAT AN ADJUSTMENT.

regardless, it’s nice that he decides to use his new form to take care of the world, and sounds like he probably gets some extra brain capacity to be able to do all the stuff he does. (probably a few extra mini-brains to control the different arm nodes)

I hope he gets to take time for himself too, sometimes. probably sleeps like a dolphin (switch off half the brain for a power nap)

I don't think he can do verbal communication (at least, it's gonna take him a WHILE to figure out how to talk with his feelers) but at least there's keyboards.

also its funny how he gains like a gajillion arms after potentially losing one of two.

also i love the cafe patrons and the mutants at the camp. theyre all so fun. AND MANUEL FUNKY LITTLE DUDE WITH THE JAMS.

i need to find more about the lady with the slasher mask i just know she exists.

@mtgc858 @deafeningfestivalpaper @kasprawn39 @contract-crawdad @goawaypopup @eyessss come get yer headcanons

anyway uhhhhhhh hope you found my rambling fun to read byee

#teapot noises #look outside #look outside game #look outside spoilers #ok i keep going back and adjusting things and spending too much time so im just gonna stop here

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cherrys-muses · 2 months ago

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Request - Sam from warfare coming home to reader and being all lovey dovey

an; HI HI. thank you for this. i was saving this until i actually seen warfare. this is slightly angsty, but ….. i can’t pull myself away from that :p under the cut is spoilers to the movie!

the smell of something sweet, slightly woodsy had him smiling to himself as he makes himself comfortable in a bed that was his, but he’d almost forgotten the soft feeling of the cotton covers that covered the soft mattress.

he’s alone for the moment, the sound of your humming intertwining in with running water keeping him company. the lights in the hallway were flipped off — darkness filling the outside of the bedroom.

there’s a small wince that pulls at the corners of his plush lips, eyes glancing away from the door towards his leg.

scarred, welted skin makes his lips pull into more of a frown. it still hurts, but not as bad as before. not as bad as when it happened. if anything, it hurts to stare at more than when the injury happened.

it’s ugly. a faded pink that makes his pale skin look even more pale against the angry color.

“sam,” he blinks quickly, wide brown eyes finding yours. you look confused, worried, and he realizes why — he’s crying. he’s acting as if he’s never gotten a scar before from an injury. he’s being weak. his chin wobbles slightly, eyes quickly looking away as soon as your face softens.

“hey, what’s wrong? why are you crying?” you move closer, body facing him now as your soft hand brushes against his. the skin rough, calloused. still seemingly dry from the heat and dirt. “sam, you can talk to me.” your fingers squeeze softly at his hand.

he’s quick to pull both hands up, even if that means your hand is lingering to close for comfort near the thing that reminds him of what he truly is — weak. ugly.

his hands are quick to wipe at the tears with the heels of his palms, shaking his head quickly as he lets out an airy laugh. the type that would make another persons heart ache from the sound.

“it’s…it’s nothing,” he blinks and drops his arms towards his chest, crossing them over. he forces a smile. “seriously. it’s nothing. just happy to be home is all.”

you stare at him quietly and he knows that you know that’s not truly what it is. but he’s hoping that you’ll drop it.

he’ll come to you when he’s ready, and he’s not ready.

not yet, at least.

nodding slightly, you let out a small sigh. leaning closer, your lips press under both of his eyes, before pressing your lips against his. your thumb is wiping away the stray tear that falls once again.

pulling away, you rest your forehead against his. “i’m here when you’re ready to talk.”

“i know.”

he’s nodding against your forehead, noses barely grazing one another. nodding once with him, your fingertips pass over his cheek softly, a small smile pulling at your lips.

“i’m happy your home too, by the way.”

as his hands move to cup your face softly, his eyes prickle once again, and for a moment, he believes he’s normal. he believes that there’s no blood on his hands. he believes that he was only gone on a week long trip, instead of five months.

he can believe, for just a moment, that he’s not scarred. he believes that he’s normal. that he’s loved.

he’s soft when he’s allows his lips to touch yours, thumbs pressing slightly into your cheeks. it’s just as sweet as the one you shared before he left, even if it made his heartache.

because, eventually, he’ll have to pull away from you again.

he’s getting lightheaded now, pulling away hesitantly but not going far — just breathing you in this time.

“i love you.”

your cheeks lift slightly with the smile that spreads over your face, cheeks flushing. “i love you.”

sam feels normal again. for now.

#𝜗𝜚 cherry’s inbox #joseph quinn x fem!reader #joseph quinn x reader #sam warfare x reader #sam warfare x you

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 2 months ago

Text

Who Is In Control? (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Black!F!Villain!Reader x Hunter!Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: Sung Jinwoo is the highest-ranking hunter and the most powerful human being humanity has ever seen. So is Gojo Satoru. Both cocky, both confident, and both eager for more power, they compete against each other for each gate that seems to get more dangerous the farther and higher they go. They figure your gate won’t be any different and that you will be the usual big baddie that they need to take care of. Another cog in the system. Until they manage to beat you and find out who you truly are behind your facade. Now the hunters are hellbent on keeping you to themselves. So, what’s another friendly competition? Only this time, the prize is you.

Chapter Warnings: MILD SPOILERS; Blood/Injury; Hypnosis; Manipulation; Mild Violence

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Tried to get this out tonight because I really didn't want to wait till Sunday to drop it. Please enjoy my poorly-written action sequences lol -Jazz

CHAPTERS: PREFACE. ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. SIX.

*************

TWO: WHY AM I HERE?

Kill All Humans.

It is the only thought plaguing your mind that is currently going on hyperdrive because of your newest “visitors”.

Intruders are more like it. You have always despised any stranger invading your gate, your kingdom, your domain just to snag a prize. That is often why you see these hunters–and you say that with disdain and disgust–enter your gate, time after time, over and over again. And over and over again, you show them that you are just not someone to be beaten so easily. You can’t even begin to count how many hunters you have watched die over the years, either at your hands or by the swords of your army.

You sit on your throne now, sitting patiently and filing your long, claw-like nails. There is only the sound of the fire blazing outside of your very tall, very ominous castle that overlooks your kingdom set ablaze with flames. Flames that you caused some time ago that have continued to grow and grow, engulfing everything in their path. The villagers who once lived in this kingdom have long since left now, leaving only you. The new ruler. The new Queen of this kingdom and Boss of this gate.

And it still isn’t enough. It is never enough. You can feel the need for more power, more blood, more everything simmering under your bosom right beneath the bodice of your gown. Your crown, silver and dripping in diamonds, sits on top of your head, only held up by your neck and the french braid that your servants carefully braided for you. They had better be careful. You created them and your army yourself from your own two hands after taking over this kingdom.

You remember when you first “came” to this world (“appeared” is more like it, though you can hardly remember either) when villagers still roamed, the skies were still blue, and hunters weren’t invading your land. But then you suddenly…snapped. You can’t quite describe it even now. All you remember is hearing “Kill All Humans” in your head and suddenly, you were standing among the destruction of the kingdom that once flourished with life.

Though there is a part of you that feels immense guilt for this, you have no idea where this part comes from. Is it you thinking this? Could it be something that plagues you at night where you have nightmares of strange creatures calling themselves “Gods” and men with blue eyes? Could it be…

Your frustrating thoughts take the back burner when one of your soldiers in clanky medieval armor comes walking in. He takes a bow, silent. Just as you created them to be. Only to listen and obey your every command. “What?” you snap. “Didn’t I tell you about–”

Your lecture is cut off when the soldier lifts his head and suddenly, you feel it: a vibration inside of you that feels as if your veins and cells are shaking. You stop filing your nails and sit up straight. “They are near, aren’t they?” you ask. Your soldier obediently nods. You smile, and once again, you are plagued by that one thought: “Kill All Humans”.

“Perfect,” you whisper and stand in your dress. You wave a hand to your soldier, snapping at him. “Then don’t just stand there. Get the others and cover me.” As your soldier walks off to do as he is told, you pucker your lips and exhale slowly, causing wisps of red smoke to escape your mouth.

Instantly, your dress melts away and is replaced with armor black as tar. A sword, bigger than your thigh and sharp to the touch, sits at your hip, ready to be unsheathed. You place your helmet on to hide your features as you usually do. You never fight hunters without it. You don’t want them looking at you.

With just one thought and your willpower, you teleport from your castle to the burning lands of your kingdom. Your army is already here, standing at attention and bowing at your arrival. In front of you is nothing but plumes of smoke with only the shadows of destroyed buildings and cobbled streets facing you…and also a herd of undead animals and a tall knight standing in front of them. They are shadowy figures, each one appearing like ghosts.

‘Da fuck?’ you think, utterly confused. These couldn’t possibly be the intruders, could they? They’re not even alive! But at the sight of the blue glow that illuminates them, you realize what they are. Shadows. “Necromance work,” you whisper. You look to the knight standing silently before you. “You’re controlled by one, aren’t you?”

The knight doesn’t answer. Instead, he lifts his sword and charges at you at full speed. Dozens of your soldiers run to your aid, but they are distracted by the herd of bears, orcs, and a giant fucking ant herdling at them. The knight is so fast that you barely escape his sword, having to duck to avoid getting your head cut off. “Fuck!” you hiss.

You don’t even have time to recover because the sword is coming down towards you again. You thrust your sword up to block it, grunting at the force and power of the knight in front of you. He has taken on a light purple glow that emits from his black armor and you notice a scar at his right eye. You don’t see a face though, but you figured as a shadow that he wouldn’t have much.

With a grunt, you use all of your energy to thrust him away, sending him careening backwards. He quickly recovers and assumes a battle-ready position. You stand before him, laughing despite the sweat coating your face behind your helmet. “Y’know, you’d actually be kinda hot if you weren’t tryin’ to kill me. I like guys who don’t talk much.”

That seems to anger the knight because he charges at you again and suddenly begins swinging his sword this way and that, trying to get any open point on your body. You try desperately to keep up, using any and every ounce of speed and strength given to you. But God, does it hurt! Your arms ache in your armor and each clang of your swords colliding hurts your ears. This guy is fast and lustful for blood. Whoever is controlling him must be as well.

You have never faced anything like him before. Clearly because when he swipes his sword at your head a second time, you crumble to your knees, your sword clattering out of your hand. Before you can take a breath, the knight stands above you and raises his sword high, preparing to thrust it into your chest if not your brain.

“Igris, heel!” comes a loud, guttural demand. It is a demand that stops the knight dead in his tracks. It stops you, your army, and the shadows too. The battle ceases as each head turns to regard the owner of the voice.

Admittedly, if it wasn't his voice that stops you in your tracks, it would definitely be his looks. The man is the very definition of “tall, dark, and handsome”. Your eyes roam over his lanky yet muscular form despite his mundane clothes, his black undercut, his long legs, his to-die-for cheekbones and jawline, and…. Your eyes widen at the sight of his electric blue irises. The same ones you have seen in your dreams.

‘Danger,’ your mind screams. ‘This man is danger.’ Your body seems to wail it too with the way your heart races and your stomach dips. You telepathically signal for your minions for protection, but neither of them move. They are all glued to the spot, staring at the blue-eyed, dark-haired hunter whose camp whips around their ankles in the fiery air.

As the hunter comes walking over, his gait calm and collected, all of his shadows vanish into thin air. All except for Igris, the knight, who takes his sword away from you and digs it into the ground before kneeling. You don’t use it as a chance to ask. Who knows what this hunter could do to you? You just watch, shocked and confused, as the hunter stops at Igris’ side and lays a hand on his helmet. His aura is quite powerful…and seductive. He is doing nothing but standing there and yet, he makes your stomach flip-flop.

“Nicely done,” he praises his shadow in a deep, soothing, oh-so-delicious voice. “You got real far with this. I knew I could count on you.” You shiver as if his saccharine words of praise are directed at you. You have never been so captured by a voice before. When he finally puts those dazzling, intense eyes on you, it shocks you to your core. Your body seizes and your muscles tense. You feel as if he is looking deep into your soul, peering into your past, present, and future with one look.

God, what the hell is happening to you?

An almost sardonic smile appears on the hunter’s lips. “Hi, there,” he draws out. “I’m guessin’ you’re the Boss for this gate, right?” He cocks his head to the side, sizing you up. “You’re not much to look at it, and I mean that size wise. I usually get Bosses much bigger than–”

With a grunt, you grab your sword and swing it at him, only for Igris to block your attack with his own sword. The hunter peeks out from behind Igris’ shoulder, shock leaving his face. “Oh,” he says. “Guess you wanna start. Alright, I can get down with that.”

Igris tosses you aside, the force of it sending you careening yards away, but you manage to skid to a stop in the dirt, Akira sliding with your hand shooting out to bring you to a pause. The hunter wills Igris away and pulls out his own sword. A bigger one than Igris’ that is alight with blazing blue flames. “I’d prefer skippin’ to the good point anyway,” he chuckles.

He charges at you and you charge at him, the both of you running at full speed towards one another until you’re a foot away. Your swords clash instantly, the clanging of metal heard throughout the land like thunder clapping in the sky. Under the dark storm clouds hanging in the sky, you dance the Dance of Death with the hunter, moving when he moves, following every step he makes. And vice versa. “Not bad,” he comments, actually giving you a smile. “But I’m better.”

The man would be a lot more charming if he wasn’t trying to kill you. You will hand it to him: the man can fight. He doesn’t seem to stop, always sensing what you are about to do next. It’s like he has eyes everywhere! ‘Does he?’ you deliriously wonder. Just who is this person?

So caught up in your thoughts, you make a misstep and lower your sword just a bit. It allows the hunter to swing the sword your way, not to try to cut off your head but to make you retreat as if he is. With a gasp, you clatter onto your back in your armor, the wind knocked out of you. You stare through the slits in your helmet at the hunter. He stares down at you, smirking. “C’mooon, you gettin’ tired already? The fun’s just begun.”

Before you can even think of conjuring help, the hunter is suddenly pinning you to the ground with one hand grabbing your neck. You grunt as his long fingers grip your throat, making it hard to breathe. “Gotcha,” he whispers, and his blue eyes flash. “Any last words?”

You don’t speak. You can’t. Even if you could, you wouldn’t. He actually looks slightly disappointed. “You’re not gonna speak to me at all, eh?” He tuts, shaking his head as he takes his sword and presses the tip of it above your armor, right over your heart. “No matter. Your words won’t matter once you’re dead.” The look in his eyes is absolutely murderous, fully content with killing you and enjoying it.

Unfortunately for him, you need to live just a little longer. Quickly, you jut your head up to force the front of your helmet off of your lips. You begin to move your lips, pretending to speak low and weak. As you planned, the hunter stares at you, perplexed. “Huh?” he asks himself.

He leans down closer to hear you, getting closer…and closer…until you are able to press your lips to his in a forceful kiss. He moans in shock and immediately pulls away, wiping his mouth.

“What the hell?!” he angrily bellows. “Why did you…” His rageful expression suddenly vanishes and he blinks at you as if seeing you for the first time. Your attack worked. “What did you do?” he asks, bewildered.

You use that chance to kick him in the balls and make a break for it. You scramble to your feet and teleport as far as you can come from him, but you don’t get to stand in your freedom for too long. Before you can teleport back to the safety of your castle, you scream as you’re suddenly yanked into the air as if pulled up by strings like a puppet.

The world turns upside down and you realize that you’re hanging in the air headfirst! You try to move, but you can’t. Your arms are stuck at your sides and your legs are immoble as you hang in thinair. ‘I can’t move!’ you think in a panic. ‘Shit, this is bad!’

You begin to hyperventilate as the dark-haired hunter comes waltzing over after recovering from your ball shot…but he isn’t alone. Someone else appears in front of him, beating him to you.

A very tall, very hot someone with stark white hair, a blindfold, and a playful smile on his pink lips. “Head over heels for me already?” he tuts. “My, my…and you don’t even know my name yet!” His voice is not as deep as his fellow hunter’s, but it is just as seductive and seems to make you throb.

You can’t dwell on it for too long because both hunters have gotten closer to you, watching you hang suspended in the air with peaked interest.

“Cheater,” the dark-haired one growls. “You can’t steal my kill, Gojo. I had her first.”

Gojo, the white-haired hottie, turns to face his colleague. “And you failed. Hate the game, not the player, Jinwoo. And I’m not gonna kill her just yet–I’ve got some questions for her first.” He turns to you, inspecting you despite his blindfold. You don’t understand how he can even sense you with the blindfold on, but then again, you figure that he is just as powerful as Jinwoo. “I know you’ve got a face under there.” He cocks his head to the side, curious and seductive. “You wanna take off that helmet and face me?”

You keep quiet despite something in your subconscious telling you to do it. Telling you to give in to the strange, sexy hunter and his partner. But you say nothing. “C’mooon, I know you don’t wanna die,” Gojo drawls. “Boss or not, you’ve still got a life.” He then takes a hand and glides it across the metal of your helmet. “So you may wanna watch your behavior if you don’t wanna piss me off,” he whispers.

Again, you say nothing. Instead, you wait until he slowly peels the slot to your mouth upward to plant the same kiss you gave Jinwoo onto his lips. He yelps in shock, immediately pulling away. “Da fuck?!” he angrily shouts and Jinwoo covers his mouth to hide a laugh.

A strange, dangerous blue light suddenly emits from Gojo’s person and he waves his hand in a sharp cutting motion. You are slammed hard into a wall beside you and roughly turned upright to be pinned against the bricks. You feel pain explode behind your skull and on your right side, making you gasp behind your helmet. You see stars that drift in your vision, making it hard to focus on the two hunters in front of you.

Gojo tuts, shaking his head at you as if you’re an insolent child. “Do you not know stranger danger, girly? You can’t just go around kissing people you don’t…oh, fuck.” He pauses, laying a hand on his chest.

“What?” Jinwoo asks, confused. Gojo’s Adam’s Apple bobs as he roughly swallows, a warm blush coating his cheeks. “You don’t feel that shit? Like real hot and tingly?” Your eyes switch to Jinwoo, hoping to see that the same symptoms are taking effect. The dark-haired hunter’s intense eyes fall on you, narrowing. “She drugged us,” he growls.

Before you can utter a breath, he wraps a hand around your throat and slams you into the wall again, causing your scalp to slam hard against the jagged bricks. You feel something wet dripping down your neck and you realize that you’re bleeding. Jinwoo’s eyes are positively murderous, with no humanity left in them. You’re going to die if you don’t say something.

“S-Stop!” you cough, desperate and in anguish. “Please stop! I give up, okay?!” Jinwoo’s brows scrunch in confusion. “Oh, so you’re talkin’ now?” Gojo huffs. He goes to say more, but Jinwoo raises a hand to stop him. He loosens his grip on your throat, but still keeps his hand there. “Reveal yourself,” he demands you.

You don’t know if it is free will or if he hypnotized you to some degree, but you find yourself taking off your helmet with shaky hands. The hunters’ eyes widen at the sight of your face, not at all ghastly like many of the Bosses they have encountered before. “Damn,” they both murmur to themselves.

You do not focus on the way their eyes roam over your features or the fact their cheeks have grown pinker. You just want to live. “I-I give up,” you sob, dropping your helmet to the ground. “I completely give in to you both. This win is yours. Just please…don’t kill me.”

You feel tears prick at your eyes as the blood trickles down your neck under your armor. Your right side aches like someone just took a blow to it. You are in no shape to fight or attempt to escape. You can’t even begin to think about teleporting away. Your energy is completely gone.

Jinwoo raises an eyebrow at your begging. “And why shouldn’t we?” he asks. “You tried to kill us, didn’t you?”

“I was forced to!” you cry out, tears springing into your eyes now. “I can’t think of anything else, but to–” You suddenly grunt, your body tensing at the spark of pain in your side. You feel as if you have been stabbed. What is happening to you? The hunters stare in concern and suspicion, both trying to decide if you are being truthful. “P-Please help,” you plead. “I don’t wanna be like this.”

After a beat of silence, Jinwoo drops his hand from your throat. You slide down against the wall before you crumble to your knees, unable to find the strength to get up. “You want us to help you, then you help me,” he cooly replies. He and Gojo stand over you, looming like two storm clouds. “Answer me this: What is it that makes you wanna kill hunters? Why are you here?”

“And why did your gate go red so quickly?” Gojo adds. “What’s goin’ on here?”

“W-What?” you whimper, your mind scrambled. “I-I don’t know!” You flinch as you feel your head throb with the onslaught of an oncoming migraine.

Jinwoo suddenly kneels in front of you, his face inches from yours. “Wrong answer.” His eyes flash that same electric blue that has haunted you for nights now. “Why. Are. You. Here?” His voice echoes in your head, making your head throb even more.

‘Why am I here?’ you think. ‘Why am I here?’

You can’t remember. How exactly did you get here? Who were you before all of this? And why do you feel so drawn to these two men that you’ve never met before?

Suddenly, that mantra comes back. The only thing you remember from the past that you’re not even sure belongs to you: “Kill. All. Humans.”

You grunt again and press a hand to your right side. Your hand comes back stained with blood. You turn to Jinwoo to ask for help, but another voice unlike yours leaves your lips. “Subject has reached completion of speech,” an automated, robotic voice says out of your mouth.

Then, all you see is blackness when you pass out in the arms of Jinwoo.

***********

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