#and I felt a little too human for a second | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ichorai · 11 hours ago

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xerox ; robert reynolds ; part four.

part one. | part two. | part three.

pairing ; robert (bob) reynolds x reader, thunderbolts & reader

synopsis ; you had one last job before you were free. no more splitting, no more deaths. unfortunately, that job seemed to rope in four other assassins and a... a man in hospital-wear?

words ; 6.6k

themes ; action, angst, slowburn, the beginnings of romance

warnings / includes ; violence, talks of mental health, mention of jacking off, human experimentation, child abuse, reader has the ability to split into multiple bodies (think dupli-kate from invincible), foul language, oh no i made the void sexy!

a/n ; sorry for the wait! this was meant to be a longer part but i honestly didn't want to wait to post HAHA, but i really hope you guys like it !!! guys i've gotten so attached to xerox as an oc you have nooo idea

main masterlist. read on ao3! xerox's face claim :)

John’s morning started off as routinely as ever. Get out of bed at six-thirty AM sharp. Brush teeth. Stretches. Jogging. Muscle training at the gym. Scroll through hate tweets as he cools down. Shower. Then, finally, breakfast.

He made his way to the kitchen. To none of his surprise, you were already there—or a copy of you was—sitting at the farthest end of the island, completing a page of that ridiculously thick puzzle book of yours and nursing a mug of hot tea. Bob was beside you, hunched over what John spotted to be a Rubix cube. It was nearly solved.

John only grunted in response when Bob said, “Morning, Walker.”

He grabbed a box of raisin bran from the pantry (shoving aside multiple Avengers Wheaties boxes for it) and served himself a bowl. Then, when he made his way to the fridge—

“Where is the milk?” he asked, immediately turning to you two.

You didn’t bother to peer up from your book. “There was barely any left. We gave the last of it to Alpine.”

“You assholes,” John snarked. “You gave the last of my milk to the stupid cat?”

“It’s not yours,” Bob replied, defensive. “It’s for the entire team.”

“Well, what am I supposed to have with my cereal, then?” John hissed, much akin to a toddler.

“Yogurt?” Bob volunteered. “There’s Greek on the second shelf—”

“I don’t want yogurt,” Walker bit back as if Bob had just offered him mouse droppings.

This time, you looked up from your book to shoot him an unimpressed glare. “You won’t die if you skip cereal for a day. Make some toast, or something. Besides—Bob and I are going grocery shopping in a bit. We’re low on eggs, and Ava wants cucumbers. If you ask nicely… we can get you some more milk, too.”

John muttered something under his breath.

“Sorry, what was that?” you asked with a pointed look, exaggeratingly cupping a hand behind your ear. “Couldn’t quite hear you.”

“Yes, yeah, get me some milk. Jesus.”

“Magic word?” Bob asked, looking all too smug.

John scowled. The two of you were so annoying together. “Please,” he gritted out.

Both you and Bob exchanged amused glances, then returned to your devices, leaving John to pour his dry cereal back into the box and grab two slices of whole wheat bread to toast, grumbling about his ruined routine all the way.

Bob felt a little swell of pride at the bottom of his chest every time you accepted one of the fruits he’d offered you. It wasn’t like he could tell which apples were better than the rest—he was honestly just picking at random—but the ones you rejected and put back onto the piles were said to be bruised, misshapen, or squishy. All things he thought were quite normal qualities for fruit, but he trusted your fruit judgment.

“What’s wrong with the squishy ones?” Bob asked, picking up an apple you tossed to the side and inspecting its waxy red peel. He felt bad for the fruits discarded for seemingly asinine reasons.

The sour face you pulled made Bob’s heart trip over itself. “Just trust me. I had to have a lot of squishy fruit during my time in Madripoor. It either means they’re rotten, rotting, or they’ve got worms wriggling around inside.”

Bob blanched. Suddenly he didn’t feel all that bad anymore.

After all the fruits, vegetables, proteins, and generally healthier options were tossed into the cart, the two of you went on a frenzy grabbing junk food to your heart’s content: chips and sweets and frozen fried foods galore. The two of you stood in front of the vast refrigerated section full to the brim with dozens of options for ice cream.

“Raspberry s’more swirl?” Bob ventured.

You wrinkled your nose in distaste.

“What?” he asked.

“That sounds so American. And, yes, I do mean that as an insult.”

The two of you toddled out of the aisle juggling half a dozen tubs of varying flavors, none of which being the Swirly S'mores or whatever it was.

After picking up the last of what was on the list, Bob began to unload the groceries onto the conveyor belt. The cashier asked for your autograph with a nervous grin, brandishing a pen and notepad for you to scribble on. You never really bothered to come up with an autograph—you didn’t need one for the first three decades of your life, and now all of a sudden everyone around each corner of the street was asking for one. Just the other day, you gingerly signed a sweaty guy’s forehead, and the ink was already running down his face before he could turn and jog away. Ava called him a pig, and you could only pray that he was far enough not to hear.

You haphazardly scribbled XEROX in large capitol letters across the paper, hoping it would suffice. The cashier made no complaint and pocketed the autograph with a giddy air about her.

“Sorry if this is weird to ask—can you split? I’ve always wanted to see it in person.”

You blinked. Then, with a small, relenting smile, you duplicated, and your copy waved awkwardly. The cashier snapped a quick photo of you and your copy without even bothering to ask—you hadn’t even seen her whip out her phone—and you could feel Bob’s concerned eyes bore into you. You didn’t want to make it a big deal, so you silently paid for the groceries (with one of Valentina’s credit cards), bumped Bob’s shoulders with yours, and stuffed the goods into the reusable Avengers bags Alexei insisted you take with you. It was embarrassing using your own merch, but you tried not to think about it too much.

“Are you okay?” Bob asked once the two of you slipped back into the car, having loaded the food into the back. “That was…”

“Our new normal,” you sighed, pinching the space between your brows. “I mean—it’s fine, I guess. They’re just excited. I get it. My face is never getting scrubbed from the internet now, though.”

“Yeah,” Bob said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I feel you.”

Yesterday, Walker showed him a tiktok of the Void in the sky, crashing helicopters into buildings. Bob watched the screen with a small, shameful frown, until you tugged him away insisting that he helped you reach for a cup too high for you to reach. Of course, he knew that you were more than capable of getting it yourself, but he liked how you made him feel useful. Plus—he liked how your hand cuffed his shoulder in gratitude once he handed the cup to you.

“I love grabbing groceries with you,” he blurted out.

You glanced over at him, drumming your hands along the steering wheel. Then, you looked back at the road and smiled—the particular smile that made Bob’s insides melt like putty. “I love spending time with you too, Pal.”

Bucky Barnes didn’t care for many things. Flashy trends the new generation kept cycling through. Texting etiquette, or his lack thereof. The dozens of settings on washing machines nowadays. Ava’s propensity to phase straight through his room because it was a “short cut” to the gym.

But one thing he did care about—a considerable amount more than anything else, honestly—was his cat, Alpine.

So it took a great amount of reluctance to hand her over to you and Bob for the weekend. He had to fly out for a last minute undercover mission, and he couldn’t leave Alpine all alone in his apartment for days in a row. Usually he would leave Alpine with Sam, but the two were in a weird funk as of late.

“I don’t give her more than three pieces of Whiskers’ Delights a day,” Bucky warned, having a nagging suspicion that you weren’t really listening to him. “I don’t want to spoil her.”

Your fingers curled beneath Alpine’s chin, cooing unintelligible noises. Bucky rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

“Just don’t overfeed her. Make sure you leave out a bowl of water for her, okay? And if she starts scratching stuff up, just pick her up and put her in front of the scratching post. I’ve been trying to train her to stop ruining my furniture.”

“Got it,” Bob said, before joining you in your hums and coos to the purring feline.

“See you later, Alpine,” said Bucky, a rare sort of warmth seeping into his tone.

Alpine flicked her tail at her father, then rubbed her fuzzy white head against Bob’s sweatshirt.

Bucky grunted out something that sounded suspiciously similar to, “Traitor.” He stalked towards the elevator with a deep-set scowl. Though, once he turned to press the button, he caught sight of you tugging Alpine into your lap, pressed up right beside Bob, your head resting on his. The man beside you was as red as a beetroot.

And Bucky wasn’t stupid. Despite his callous nature to the rest of the new “Avengers”, he found that he was rooting for the two of you. You would be good for each other. He wouldn’t be caught dead ever admitting it, though.

“Where’s Bob? You two are usually glued to the hip.” Ava asked out of the blue, startling you so much that you immediately split into two copies. Two pairs of your shocked eyes glared at her.

“Ava!” you snapped crossly, before reabsorbing your copy. “You gotta stop phasing into our rooms without knocking first. And Bob went out with Yelena—apparently she needed him for something.”

The woman plopped down onto the couch beside you, languidly crossing her arms. “Right.”

You let the silence settle between the two of you, picking up the book you’d been reading and carrying on. Then, feeling her fidget beside you, you asked, “Is there a reason you’re here or do you just want to spend time with me? Because you could’ve just asked.”

The face she pulled was dour, but fleeting. “Well, I just—I had a question. It’s stupid.”

“Mhm.”

“You know how the both of us were… raised in labs our whole lives, y’know the entire schtick.”

“... Yes?”

Now visibly uncomfortable, Ava tugged at the collar of her suit. “I just—I wanted to know… how you deal with it. The memories of it all. It’s just that you make it look so easy. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Me?” you said in utter disbelief, bookmarking your page and setting the book aside. “I make it look easy? Are you sure about that?” You thought about your near panic attack two days ago in the training room that left you breathless and spiraling, over nothing in particular.

This made Ava scoff. “Okay, relatively speaking. In general, you’re still pretty fucked up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks.” Then, after a moment of thinking about it, you told her, “I think it helps that I can talk about it now. Not only to a therapist but to—friends.” The word felt foreign on your tongue, but it left a warm, homey feeling there, as well. “The puzzles help, too. Reminders that I’m safe and in control now.”

As she listened, Ava drew her knees up to her chest, chin resting over them. “I keep getting these memories. It’s like they attack me, and I—physically can’t breathe or move. Do you get those?”

“All the time,” you whispered.

“How do you stop it?”

You shook your head with a sad smile. “I don’t. I can’t just forget it all and push it away. I just… learn to live with it, learn to manage it. All the pain I’ve experienced.” You hesitated. “And inflicted.”

Pensive, Ava asked, “So you just—ride it out?”

“Not really. The past isn’t something that’ll just go away one day. It’s more of an acceptance, forgiveness, and moving on sort of thing. At least that’s what Janice tells me.”

“Who the hell’s Janice?”

“My therapist,” you said, giving Ava a nudge. “I can ask her if she can refer you to someone? Or we can just… talk to each other if that’s too much for now. I’m a good listener.”

With a brow raised, Ava retorted, “No, you’re not. You didn’t listen to a single thing Bucky said at last week’s meeting.”

“It’s the same shit he says every week.”

“Doesn’t help when you and Bob are whispering and giggling in each other’s ears, too,” she deadpanned, making your cheeks flush with heat. “You two are like little schoolgirls.”

Which was funny of her to say, considering neither of you ever really went to a proper school.

You wrinkled your nose and stuck your tongue out at her, to which she only flipped you off with both her middle fingers. “You’re deflecting!”

“That something your therapist taught you, as well?”

“Yes, actually. Apparently I do it a lot, too.”

Ava grunted in irritation. Then, finally, she said with great reluctance, “I think that sounds nice. The talking thing. With you.”

You smiled an awfully wide smile. “Yeah?”

“Don’t expect it to happen all the time.”

“Sure.”

“I’m a busy woman.”

“I’m aware.”

“And I don’t want it to be a sobfest or a pity party. I just want to—talk.”

“I know, Ava. I got you.”

“And if you tell anyone, I’ll gouge your eyes out with a hot spoon.”

“Mhm. Wait—not even Bob?”

Ava glared at you.

“I’m joking!” you exclaimed, hands raised, though the idea of not debriefing every minute detail of your day to Bob seemed less than appealing. But, as hard as it was to admit to yourself, you cared for Ava, and you wanted her to feel safe to speak to you in confidence. “We can talk whenever you want, Ava. Real casual.”

“Will you tell me about your… feelings and shit, too? So it won’t feel like—”

“A therapy session?” you finished for her, smothering a laugh. “Yeah, definitely. Trust me, I’m not qualified to be a therapist. The nurses at my facility sure liked to trauma dump on me whenever they drew my blood, though…”

And as you dove into the stories of your past, Ava could feel the weight on her chest lighten. Not completely, not even a lot—but just a little. And maybe that was enough for now.

In all honesty, Bob wasn’t even supposed to be here. Yelena could’ve brought just about any of the Avengers along with her—but now that all of them were ultra famous—save for Bob—he was simply the safest bet. Plus it helped to factor in that he was practically indestructible. It was meant to be a very quick and easy stealth mission, anyway. Bob was going to create a diversion with the scientists, who were then going to alert the guards, and Yelena would sneak into the underground lab, grab a vial or two of the poisonous drug, and high-tail back to headquarters for some nerdy guy in a labcoat to start fixing up an antidote in case someone decided to commit some casual bioterrorism.

Of course, she should’ve known that not everything would go according to plan.

It was partially both of their fault. Bob fucked up by taking the wrong turn and swinging straight into the lab Yelena was currently swiping from, and Yelena fucked up by trying to push him out the way he came instead of helping him up the vent she had busted in with. She wasn’t very used to working with others—particularly those who had virtually no prior training in the field.

There was a loud crash as Bob careened into a metal cart with her crowding motions, and a few vials precariously wobbled in their holders, before toppling to the ground. Glass shards rained all over the floor, and a puff of green smoke filled the air between the two. Yelena danced back several steps, grabbing Bob by the shoulder and yanking him away, as well. She covered her nose and mouth with her palm, and Bob copied her motions with a slight delay.

Panic settled in Yelena’s chest. She thought, at first, that it had been the poison. She was going to die in a lab choking on her own vomit, and Bob would just be forced to watch.

But then—Yelena smelled it before Bob did. Familiar. It was sweet, almost. Like the free peppermint candies you would get at a nice restaurant after a pricey meal, or those flavored flossing picks Yelena liked to buy from the pharmacy three blocks away from her old apartment.

In the case file she read, it was said that the poison was gaseous and was instantaneous in its harm. But Yelena felt completely fine. She glanced over at Bob, who also looked to be alright, if not a little wide-eyed and sweaty. Which was normal for him.

If that wasn’t poison, what was it? Yelena cautiously removed her hand from her face.

“I don’t think we’re going to die,” she said. “Which is good, because I really don’t want to die before finishing the new season of this crappy reality show where hot people try not to mash their groins together. Seriously, I cannot believe non-asexual people are real.”

There was a moment of silence. Yelena and Bob blinked at each other.

“Oh, wow. I did not mean to say any of that. Weird. What we broke must be some sort of gaseous version of a truth serum. No wonder it smelled familiar—we used to use a liquid version in the Red Room. Are you okay, Bob? How are you feeling? Sorry I pushed you into the cart.”

Bob glanced over at himself, as if checking to make sure he wasn’t actually impaled or stabbed or on fire. “I’m, uh—I think so? I’m feeling really thirsty.”

“You know what, if we get out of here alive, I’ll buy you whatever drink you want from K-Mart.”

“Okay. God, I knew I shouldn’t have come. I fucked it all up. Literally anyone would have been a better pick. Xerox or Ava or, hell, even Walker—”

“Okay, well, first of all, it’s not all your fault. We both fucked up. Second, I picked you, so—nothing we can do about it now,” said Yelena matter-of-factly. She strode across the lab to grab a stool for Bob to climb on so he could shimmy into the vents. “And Walker is too busy doing Buzzfeed puppy interviews to join me, which was a shock to me—I didn’t even know they still did those. Ava claimed a break day, and Xerox had a therapy—”

At the sound of your name, Bob suddenly blurted out the first thought that came to mind, “I think I’m in love with Xerox.”

One second. Then two.

Bob slapped his hands over his mouth with wide eyes when he registered what he’d just said. “Oh, God. What the fuck? I didn’t want to say that! Why did I say that? Truth serum, I know! But I—Wh—? I didn’t want you to know that yet?! Please don’t tell Xerox!” With each and every word he said, the tone of his voice grew increasingly squeakier.

The blonde assassin eyed her friend with an incredulous look. “... Yeah, Bob, we all knew that. You aren’t subtle at all.” With a scoff, Yelena gestured to the stool. “Now get on, Mr. Lovebird. The guards will be here any second.”

Bob’s expression was cemented into a horrified twist. As he clambered onto the chair with wobbly legs, he began to pull himself up into the vents. “Does Xerox know?” he called out, wincing when he heard his voice echo back through the cavernous metal tunnels now encompassing him.

“I don’t think so,” Yelena said from below, following his lead and slipping into the vents. “But, honestly, you should say something as soon as possible—unless you want Alexei to blurt it out on live television to appease the fans.”

“What—?!”

Before he could finish, the lab burst open, crawling with armed guards in gas masks. The lone stool sitting just beneath an open vent was more obvious than a flashing neon sign saying: IN HERE!

Gunfire began to ring out below. Yelena and Bob scrambled onto their hands and knees and shuffled off as quickly as they could. Honestly, Yelena wasn’t too worried for Bob—after all, he was just about invincible. She, however, wasn’t the least bit bulletproof. So when Bob tugged her to move up in front of him so he could act as shield between her and the bullets, Yelena neither complained nor protested.

“Hey, Bob?” she called over the gunfire, which was beginning to fade to faint plinks behind them as they put more distance between them and the soldiers.

Bob flinched at a particularly loud gunshot. “Yeah?”

“I’m really happy for you.”

Creased confusion. “For—for being shot at?”

“What? No! For Xerox. You deserve to be happy. Both of you.”

And Bob, even though he was quite literally being hunted and gunned down, couldn’t help but feel a small spark of happiness in his chest, even if it was accompanied with the putrid stink of shame. He would be thinking of Yelena’s words the whole way out of the lab, the brief fight with the soldiers once exiting the vents, and in the car ride back to base. When you greeted him at the door, he didn’t hesitate to return the hug you had flung at him, running his warm palms over your cold forearms. He met Yelena’s knowing eyes over your shoulder.

He wanted to tell you. He did, of course he did. But—there was fear, puppeteered by the Void. Paralyzing. Stinging. Biting.

Time. That’s what he needed. So he wouldn’t tell you, at least not for now, when everything was so good. He didn’t want to fuck up one of the few good things he’d just got in his life yet. Even if it felt like his chest was about to cleave itself into two at the thought of not telling you the truth about his feelings.

There was hardly a night that Bob spent where he wasn’t tossing and turning when trying to go to sleep. Shirt shirked off because he was so hot, and then promptly put back on because the feeling of the silk sheets against his bare skin irked him. Pacing across his room one second, then curled up in the center of his bed the next. Hands in his hair, then balled by his sides. Tried counting sheep, but they would always end up mutilated and bleating sad noises, so he stopped doing that. Pillows, no pillows. Rain noises, lofi beats, whale sounds, complete silence. Reading, scrolling through his phone, hell—even trying to jack off.

Nothing worked.

And so, exhausted beyond relief and near the brink of tears, Bob swiftly left his room and without thinking, he found himself automatically heading towards yours down the hall. He stood in front of your closed door, swaying on the spot. Too tired to think straight, but still had enough sense not to barge into your room unannounced.

He did this often. Would stand in front of your room like a forlorn dog that had been kicked out—listening for signs of life in there. He would sometimes hear music softly playing, your soft murmurs to yourself, or, his favorite tinkering peals of laughter. More often than not, he would turn right back around and go back to his room, smacking himself in the head and thinking himself a loser for needing someone else to go to sleep. Because that was exactly who Bob was—a loser.

The few times he brought himself to knock on your door, however—he didn’t exactly feel like a loser when you smiled at him, hands immediately tugging him in, excited to show him a painting you’d been working on or Alpine curled up in the corner of your room. You made him feel wanted. Like he wasn’t a complete nuisance to be bothering you this late at night. The two of you would often accidentally fall asleep together. On the bed, on the floor—once even in the kitchen when you both meandered your way there for some midnight snacks and never left.

This time, Bob felt the shame weigh extra heavy as he knocked on your door. What if you were busy? Or you were tired, and not in the mood to see him? Or you didn’t want to have company? Or that he was invading your privacy? Or you—

The door swung open, and you were rubbing one of your eyes with a fist, blinking at him with an adorable sort of grogginess that only came with—

Oh, God, you’d been sleeping, Bob realized with complete mortification and embarrassment. Ugh, he was such an idiot.

“Palindrome,” you said, voice slightly hoarse from your rest. Despite Bob’s stiff demeanor, you pushed the door open wider. “Come in. I’m glad you came. I was having a really bad dream.”

“Oh,” he said, all soft and troubled. He stepped in, immediately hit with the jasmine-scented air. You’d bought the diffusor a few days ago and the aroma was just heavenly. Bob could immediately feel his tense shoulders loosen a smidge. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, waving your hands dismissively. One of them fell on his arm, guiding him to the bed.

Bob could feel his heart jump to his chest. If you noticed his eyes roaming all over you, you didn’t say anything. To that, he was grateful. He was already flustered enough. With your cheeks blown out into a sigh, you fell face-first into your pillows.

“Lie down with me. I’m so cold,” you said once you turned back around to face him, making a show of curling in on yourself and shivering.

Bob spied the thick blanket you were lying on top of. The easy solution would’ve been to peel it back and drape it over you. But the other solution sounded far more appealing to him.

With a hum, Bob settled beside you, looping his arms around you, your back flush against his chest. The two of you slotted together like puzzle pieces sliding into place.

“You’re so warm.”

“Yeah, sorry, I—”

“Run hot. I know. It’s so nice. You’re like my personal heater.”

Bob liked the feeling of your cold nose pressing against his overheating bicep. “And you’re my personal, er, ice block? AC unit? Whichever sounds nicer, that’s what you are.”

You let out an amused huff at that. “Back in Madripoor, it’s almost always terribly hot. But when it reaches a certain hour at nighttime, it gets all windy and cold. We don’t have heaters in Southeast Asia like we do here—they’re impractical. So back then I would multiply and hold myself to get warm. Problem was that I’m always cold, so it felt like hugging—just like you said—an ice block. But I kept doing it. It felt nice to be held… even if it was just me.”

Bob squeezed you tighter. “Sorry,” he whispered into your hair. He wished he was better at comforting you.

“Don’t be,” you replied, sounding perfectly content. “I’ve got you now, don’t I?”

Beneath his ribs, he could feel his heart swell. Of course you could make the most useless man in the world feel like he was worth something.

“When I was a kid…” Bob began, always nervous to speak about his past, “I would get so hot that I would get out of bed and take a pillow with me and sleep by the window.”

“That’s so cute,” you crooned. He could feel you smile into his arm.

“Mmh. My dad wasn’t very happy about it. Said I was wasting all the house’s heating by keeping the windows open.”

“Yeah, well, your dad’s an asshole. Fuck him.”

“Hah. Yeah… fuck h—yeah.”

There was a comfortable silence for a while. Bob could feel himself rocking in and out of the sweet realm of slumber. Your voice reeled him out like a fish being pulled on a hook.

“Hmhng?” was the strange noise he made, having not heard what you said.

“Sorry. Did you fall asleep?”

“Yeah.” Bob sounded sheepish. “But I want to hear it. What you said.”

“Sorry,” you needlessly apologized again, even though Bob would rather be awake so he could spend more time with you. “I was just… I said that I don’t remember my name. My actual one. Or if I ever had one in the first place.”

Bob blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think they—the scientists that experimented on me—ever gave me a name. I had a number. Patient 080. But I didn’t have a name.”

Now, Bob was nodding. “Xerox was just—a terrible nickname. It wasn’t your actual name.”

“Yeah.” You shifted in his hold so that your hand could intertwine with one of his, toying with his fingers. “But I do like Xerox now. It’s mine—I’ve made it mine. I just wonder if I ever had a real name before that. I don’t remember much from back then. It always feels like I’m missing a big piece of the puzzle.”

“Maybe…” Bob trailed off, muttering.

“What?”

“Nah, no—it’s probably a stupid idea.”

“Nothing you could say to me would be a stupid idea, Pal. Please tell me. I wanna hear it.”

Bob, wincing, suggested, “Maybe you could try to do some research? See if they have any databases anywhere or something?”

“I did. The lab is an illegal operation, so they’re wiped clean. If there are records, it would be encrypted, and in Madripoor.” You were silent for several moments. “I could go back, in theory. Look for something. Anything.”

Bob’s brows furrowed, a queer sort of dread settling in the pits of his stomach. “You wanna leave?”

Silence prickled the air like needles through silk.

“I don’t. Going back has always been the last thing I’ve ever wanted to do. I’ve spent years running away. But—it would be closure, in a way. Maybe I need to do this. You know?”

Bob hugged you close to him, breathing you and the jasmine-tasting air in. “Would you come back?”

“Of course I would. I would miss you too much to stay away. Plus—the news will go insane if one of the New Avengers suddenly disappears. Or maybe they would move on in two or three days. Just another faded headline.”

The frown wouldn’t leave his face, no matter how hard he tried. He was grateful you were facing away from him. “I’ll miss you, too. A lot.”

He could hear you smile this time. “I’ll be back before you know it. I'll only need a few days. A week at most.” You made a few noises as you thought things through, and Bob felt the inexplicable, sudden urge to kiss your very soft-looking shoulder. He managed to restrain himself, albeit barely.

“I guess it’s settled, then,” you said, completely oblivious to his embarrassing thoughts of kissing you. “I’m going back to Madripoor.”

With you in his arms, Bob fell asleep in no time. The problem now, however, were the debilitating nightmares that haunted him whenever he was unconscious. Some days it wasn’t so bad—something embarrassing at his old school, or his nights high on meth… when he definitely should’ve been doing something better with his life. But most of the time, they were really bad nightmares. His father, red-faced, belt in hand. Or his mother, bleeding and crying. His friend he would do drugs with—who he couldn’t even remember the name of—foaming at the mouth and convulsing as he overdosed.

Tonight it was a strange combination of all three. And whilst Bob could try to keep the Void controlled and at bay when he was awake—it didn’t ever occur to him that it could take advantage of his unconscious self.

The darkness began to consume the bed as he twitched and shivered from his nightmares. You, sleeping away a very long day, didn’t notice. Typically, you were a very light sleeper—a habit you had since your hospital and mercenary days—but you’d grown accustomed to Bob’s regular movement during sleep.

And that was how the Void came to you in your dreams, dark as night, standing a full head taller than you. You blinked up at him, wondering if he was always this… big.

“Xerox,” he greeted, turning his head about to observe your dream-world with the tiny glints of light he had for eyes. The terrain was familiar to him—he’d brought you here before. “Do you often dream of hospitals?”

“Unfortunately,” you replied, picking up one of the half-solid scalpels with a frown. There was a hoarse scream in the distance, one that you’ve had to listen to a million times before: your own. You regarded him with a cruel sort of suspicion. “Am I dreaming you or—?”

“I came of my own volition,” said the Void. “I wanted to see you.”

“Hm.” You wanted to ask why, but you had a feeling you already knew the answer.

“You know I will never actually go away. Not for you, not for your precious Bob.”

“I know,” you said, voice cracking. With a sigh, you sat back down on the surgical operating table. “I wish you would, though. But that wouldn’t be very realistic.”

The Void came to sit beside you, leg pressed up against yours. He was freezing cold—a lot like you, and a stark opposite to Bob. You shifted away.

“You will always choose him over me,” said the dark mass. “But he is me. And I, him. There is no separating us. We all have our little void.”

“Nothing little about you,” you grumbled. The Void let out something akin to a laugh—like the quiet rumbles of thunder just before the angry, rageful clap.

There was silence as the two of you watched a surgeon enter, holding the hand of a little-you, leading you back to your cell. The child’s gaunt eyes were round with shock. Blood lined tiny-you’s mouth, slickened your hands and stained deep within the crevices beneath your nails.

“It stinks of death here,” the Void said.

“They used to make my newer copies fight the older ones,” you whispered to him. “See if any of their genetic enhancers actually worked. Most of the time it didn’t.”

Raising his hand, the Void turned the surgeon into shadow. The sight brought a small smile to your face. Swift, the Void hovered over younger-you’s shoulders.

“Oh, precious,” he crooned to the stricken child, who immediately leaned into the darkness’ touch. “Come.”

You watched with furrowed brows. “Where are you taking me?”

“Into my world. It’s stuffy in here. Smells antiseptic.”

His hand reached out for you to take it. And you could see it then—Bob within the Void. You softened just a little bit, though you still refused to take his hand.

“I hope in the real world you’re not taking over the city again. I’m a bit too tired to deal with my shame rooms at the moment.”

“Really? I thought they were fun. I enjoyed making them for you.” He laughed his timbrous laugh again, to which you only rolled your eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s just us two now.” The Void looked down at younger-you. “Well—three. Soon to be four.”

“What—?”

Before you could finish asking him what he meant by that, the dreamscape around you began to shift, dissipating like ink in water. You felt the ground turn from cold tile to a fibrous brown carpet.

There was shattering glass somewhere behind you. You whirled around to see a familiar man smashing a beer bottle against the wall, going straight for a woman and a young boy at the dinner table. The Void held his hand out, and Bob’s parents immediately turned into elongated shadows. The young boy—tiny Bob—cowered away from the growing darkness seeping into the carpet.

“Go,” the Void said to younger you, pushing the child forward.

With a lump in your throat, you stepped forward to take the shoulders of your younger self, kneeling down and using your sleeve to wipe away the blood from your face. Then, the child, both terrified and in awe of the Void, listened to his instructions and obediently went toddling off to young Bob.

Tiny you prodded at Bob’s shoulder, who only shrunk into himself more. It occurred to you that your younger self likely thought that this was a new opponent for you to fight. To your relief, however, your younger copy only slumped down the wall beside the boy, and began to recite the elements of the periodic table—something you used to do to help you go to sleep. Young Bob turned and listened with wide eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked when you finally tore your gaze away from the children, both out of genuine curiosity and confusion.

“You had no friends,” he said. “I had no friends. At least in here we can pretend.”

“That’s all you do, isn’t it?” you asked him. “Pretend. That’s a sad way to live.”

“It’s the only way,” he responded. “This way, he—we won’t get hurt.”

“But what about our real friendships? What about the rest of the team?”

The Void stepped closer to you. “Is what we have not real?”

No. Yes. Either way, the answer didn’t sound quite right.

“Whatever it is, it’s not as important as real life. I can’t be stuck in delusions forever. I… we have to live life. A real one.”

Something in the Void’s voice broke—Bob spilling through. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“You said it yourself. You’ll never actually go away,” you whispered. Then, you spared the Void a small, sad smile. “You can come visit. But I’m afraid you can’t stay.”

“You’ll miss me.”

“Oh, I will,” you said, not bothering to deny it. “But I think I’m far happier with where I am now. I don’t need you… hovering over my shoulder anymore.”

You looked to the children, who were now chattering quietly to themselves. Younger you looked happy to be talking to someone your age who wasn’t yourself, for once.

The Void stared at you for a long moment. Then, finally, he asked, “He makes you happy?”

“Bob?” You thought of his warmth. His kindness. His constant, soft touches. His spritely laughter. His stammering. His lopsided smile. His thoughtful gestures. His excessive emoticons in his texts. His love for animals. His strange habit of ad-libbing extra notes to catchy advertisement jingles. “Yes. He does.”

“Then I guess that’s reason enough for me to keep my distance. But I’ll come back. I always come back,” he said. “See you on the other side, Xerox.”

When you flinched awake, a loud, startled gasp emitted from you. You shot upwards on the bed, ripping yourself out of Bob’s warm embrace. The sudden movement made him jerk out of sleep, as well.

“Wha—Whuss goin’ on?” he sleepily muttered, looking juxtaposingly alarmed and ready to go back to sleep.

It was only when his warm arms wrapped around you again, did you realize that you were shaking. Immediately, you began sobbing. It was silent as always, but it wracked through your chest and made it difficult for you to breathe. You turned into his hold and buried your face into him, clinging onto him like an ant to sticky nectar, and he let you cry damp spots into his sweatshirt.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry,” rasped Bob, though he really didn’t know what he was apologizing for. Still, he was almost certain it was his fault. He rubbed comforting circles into your back. “I’m sorry.”

And, once you calmed down enough to regulate your breathing, you found yourself parroting the very same words to him.

#thunderbolts x reader #robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x reader #thunderbolts bob x reader #thunderbolts bob #robert reynolds fanfiction #robert reynolds x you #robert reynolds fanfic #thunderbolts fanfiction #robert reynolds #bob reynolds fanfiction #thunderbolts

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pinkpurplesunrises · 1 day ago

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Unraveled in her arms - Alexia Putellas x Reader - Smut - Been a while since I really deep dived into the smut... - probably not the best smut but it's something

It's been five months of loving Alexia with your whole heart. Though your relationship is still new, it feels like you've known each other forever. Everything between you just feels so natural. Like it's always meant to be.

But even though it feels like you've been together forever, you’ve both chosen to take things slow. You haven’t gone public yet. Partly because Alexia has an entire fan army behind her, and not all of them understand boundaries… or basic human decency.

Of course, the fans have been speculating. relentlessly. Sometimes it feels like they’re private investigators, and honestly, it’s a little scary. But Alexia always reassures you. She reminds you that what you two have is real and that no amount of noise from the outside world can touch it. With her, you feel safe. And that makes all the difference.

You woke up nestled in her arms this morning. Still heavy with sleep. Maybe you could drift off again… but probably not. You can feel her soft steady breathing against your neck. Her arms gently wrapped around you. She's still fast asleep. Completely at peace.

But you? Not so much. The thing is… when you're ovulating, everything feels heightened. Your body. Your mind. Your desire. And right now… with her warmth pressed against you. Her scent. Her skin. Things are starting to feel really hot. Sleep is officially off the table.

Two weeks ago, the two of you finally took the next step and became intimate. It took time. You're naturally shy, and sometimes your insecurities get the better of you. Alexia, patient as ever, mirrored your quiet hesitance. She was a little shy too, which meant neither of you rushed anything or pushed beyond what felt right.

But two weeks ago, something shifted. It wasn't planned or dramatic. Just a quiet, perfect moment where everything aligned. The trust. The closeness. The love. It all built up into something tender and real. And in that moment… you both let go of the nerves. The second-guessing. And simply reached for each other. It was soft. A little clumsy. Full of whispered laughter and quiet understanding. But it was yours. And it changed everything.

Alexia gained confidence quickly. Especially after seeing the effect she had on you. How vocal and uninhibited you became in her arms. She made you feel safe in a way no one ever had. And without that safety, you know you wouldn’t have been able to let go the way you did.

Since that night, though, things have been quiet. Not out of distance but out of life simply getting in the way. Alexia had to leave for camp and you’ve been buried in work, coming home more drained than anything else. The timing just… hasn’t aligned.

But this morning is different. Today, finally, is a day off for both of you. No alarms. No obligations. Just time. Slow. Quiet. And yours to share. And as the sunlight spills across the sheets and her arm tightens slightly around your waist in her sleep… you can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, the space between you is about to close again.

Of course, the insecurity creeps back in. Because as much as you want to just turn around and jump her bones. A small part of you holds back. You're worried about comng on too strong. About ruining the quiet comfort of the moment. You don't want to scare her or make her feel pressured.

And then there’s the other thing. You know how intense your desire can get when you’re ovulating. How wet you get. How needy you feel. It’s not something you can control. But past partners didn’t exactly handle it well. Some made you feel embarrassed, even ashamed. Like your body was too much. Too messy. Too inconvenient.

Before your thoughts can spiral any further, you feel a small shift behind you. Alexia stirs.

A soft breath escapes her lips as she nuzzles closer. Her nose brushing against the back of your neck. Then comes the quiet, sleepy murmur of your name. Her voice still heavy with dreams. One of her arms tightens around your waist. Grounding you instantly.

"You're awake," she whispers, warm and close.

You nod, heart racing. And before you can even begin to untangle all the worries clouding your mind… she presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

"Been thinkin' about you," she adds, a lazy smile in her voice.

And just like that, the storm in your head quiets. Because she's here, holding you like she never wants to let go.

You turn slowly. Pressing your lips to hers in a lingering kiss. She shifts onto her back, pulling you closer. Wrapping her arms tightly around you until your bodies are flush against each other. Your core presses against her thigh and a sharp bite to your lip betrays just how good it feels.

She notices. Her eyes flutter open. A knowing smile curving her lips as she whispers, “You like that, don’t you?”

You nod, but then gently pull back just enough to catch her gaze. Your breath hitching slightly. There’s a quiet vulnerability in your eyes as you search hers. Silently asking if this is really okay.

She smiles softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Hey,” she murmurs, “you don’t have to hold back. I want this. Us. Whenever you’re ready.”

You take a deep breath, then admit softly, “I think I’m ovulating right now… and, well, things can get a little messy. I just don’t want to freak you out.”

She looks at you, eyes warm and steady, and shakes her head gently. “Hey, that’s natural. Nothing about you scares me. We’ll take it slow, whatever you need.”

She reaches down and gently pulls you closer by your hips. Guiding you to shift so your core presses firmly against her thigh. Through your panties, she can feel the wetness. Warm and unmistakable. Tracing against her skin. A slow, satisfied smile spreads across her face as she leans in, whispering, “God, that’s so hot.”

You freeze for a moment at her words, heat rising even more as her breath fans against your ear. Her fingers trace lazy circles along your back. Grounding you. Inviting you to relax.

She moves her hand down to rest on your hip, squeezing gently. “Don’t hold back,” she murmurs, her voice low and inviting. “I want to feel every part of you.”

Encouraged by her confidence, you start to move just a little more. The friction sending a delicious warmth between you both. Her thigh presses harder against your core, and you feel her smile deepen as she leans closer. Lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“God, you’re driving me crazy,” she whispers. “I want you. Right here. Right now.”

Encouraged by her words and the warmth of her touch, you let yourself give in a little more. Soft moans slipping past your lips as your body responds. You press closer, letting your neediness show. Your breath growing heavier.

She smiles against your skin, her fingers tightening gently on your hip as she murmurs, “That’s it… don’t hold back.”

With every sound you make, every movement closer to her, the air between you thickens with desire. Raw. Honest, And entirely yours.

Still learning each other’s bodies, she notices you growing a little too close and gently lets you pause. You glance nervously at her thigh. Noticing the wetness there and worry you might be overwhelming her.

But she quickly reassures you with a soft smile. “I just want to switch things up a bit.”

With that, she slips off her sleep shirt, inviting you to press gentle kisses to her bare skin. She settles back against the headboard, hands reaching to help you out of your soaked panties and her shirt.

Then, you settle between her legs. Your back resting against her chest. Feeling the warmth of her body wrapped around you. The closeness is intimate and comforting. A new rhythm unfolding between you both as you continue to explore each other with tender curiosity.

Her hands begin their slow, deliberate exploration. Teasing along your skin with featherlight touches that make your breath catch. Fingers trail over your curves. Tracing the delicate lines of your ribs and dipping lower. Every brush sending shivers through your body. Then, with a gentle boldness, her fingers find your core.

Her breath hitches sharply at the slick heat she feels beneath her touch, and you can’t hold back. The soft whine and moan that escape you are raw and needy. Your body arching into her fingertips. She smiles against your skin, Her touch both teasing and sure. Moving in slow, tantalizing circles that make you writhe beneath her. Desperate and achingly close.

But she doesn’t rush. Her fingers pull away, traveling back up your body. Tracing the sensitive spots along your sides and collarbone. Keeping you on the edge. Craving more. Then, just as you start to lose yourself… she returns. Her touch firmer. More focused. Coaxing every ounce of your desire.

Her voice is low, sultry but sweet as she whispers against your ear, “You’re so beautiful like this… so open, so wet for me. I love how sensitive you are. How easily I can make you lose control.”

You shiver at her words, every nerve ending alive. The fear rising that you might come just from her talk alone. But she senses your tension and presses a soft kiss to your neck. Her voice calming and confident.

“Don’t be afraid, baby. I know exactly how to take care of you.”

She presses a soft, lingering kiss to the curve of your neck. Her lips warm and tender against your skin. The sensation sends a fresh wave of heat through you. Grounding you in the moment. Reminding you that you’re safe. Wanted. Cherished.

Then, without hesitation, her fingers slip inside you. Slow. Deliberate. And utterly attentive. Every movement is measured, perfectly in tune with your body’s responses. She takes her time. Exploring. Coaxing. And bringing you deeper into a space where pleasure feels limitless and completely hers to give.

You lean fully against her now. Your back flush with her front. Feeling the steady, comforting weight of her body wrapped around you. Your hands instinctively reach down to her thighs. Gripping the soft, warm skin just as her fingers move with more confident urgency inside you.

Her breath catches in a low, breathy moan. Feeling you gripping her thights. Vibrating against your neck as you move together. Her touch and your desire intertwining. The sound of her pleasure only fuels yours. Your body trembling with every stroke. Every sigh, . Every whispered word shared between you.

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. Her gaze dark and hungry. Lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.

“God, you’re so fucking hot like this,” she murmurs, voice thick with desire.

“And don’t think I’m done… because I’m soaked too. Looks like we’re definitely going to need a round two.”

#woso community #woso writers #woso x reader #woso #fc barcelona femeni #woso fanfics #fc barcelona femeni x reader #woso imagine #woso smut #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas smut

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ajoure · 3 days ago

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My little yapp session about Harley and Leith in 4cmit pre-THOJ & after Experiment 1354 under the cut.

Can we talk about the moment in 4cmit harleith relationships when Harley was actually both furious at Leith and loved him. About the moment that still shows itself, still makes Harley cautious around Leith a bit and still makes Leith experience *flashbacks* and feel guilt

Harley really hates loving Leith. In Charm of Imperfections, he tells Leith "and I hate that you did it" talking about this whole situation with the new body and how it made Harley actually feel joy about being human again. First of all, Leith fucks with his god complex, of course. Man who dreamed about being immortal and possess power over everyone now doubts himself, experiences moments in which he has to doubt his own views that he has held all his life. Harley doesn't like being *wrong* or even feel like he is.

He hates feeling love to Leith, off all people. He hates that Leith is the one.

Right after 1354, Harley felt so much rage (and he still does, it's not like he will just forgive Leith, it's hard to) he was furious. Betrayal from the one you loved. It's like he lives through the worst moment of his life again, like he went through hell with Elliot again, but this time it was even more personal. It was the person he thought he could trust after so much time together.

And like, yes, it is true, Leith will prove to Harley that he loves him, you know the whole *4cmit*, *new body*, *going too far to make Harley happy*. But then? Then Harley probably howled to himself for hours, days, weeks, refusing to work, undergoing tortures from man he dared to trust. And in his face, Leith was a menace. Humiliation, mockery, talking Harley down and threatening him

But, you can't hide from Harley. Leith wasn't able to. Harley knew how Leith actually expressed REGRET after what he's done. He saw Leith at his worst, looked at him through cameras in his office. So it affected how he felt about him, planted the doubt, reinforced the affection.

In one of future comics Harley will tell someone "Leith didn't ask for second chance, he just took it" and it's true. Leith never asked Harley for second chance, they both just. Knew they need it. Leith with his desire to redeem himself, and Harley with his hopes that *maybe he can trust someone after all*

Yapp session is over. Sorry for all mistakes in text, I repost this from Telegram and I realised I had to change some moments/add something but I don't have time now to pay much attention to it-

Pre-THOJ, They started relationships again, not really admitting that hey, they are together. It's just a twisted work thing, nothing serious, "I will tear you apart the second I get a chance to, Leith"

But after like, a solid number of times when Leith could've shocked Harley but didn't, and Harley could've killed Leith but didn't it's began to seem like It's not really just a work thing. They still denied it, because after all what happened it's obviously very hard to admit.

Stella knew the whole time she's #1 old men yaoi shipper btw/hj

Conclusion: I love toxic old men yaoi🤸🏻��♂️

#poppy playtime #harleith #leith pierre #dr harley sawyer

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lambiconic · 20 hours ago

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the merfolk!

johnny x reader!

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

“Would you like to get in the water?”

“Not today, lass.”

“Then tomorrow?”

“Maybe.”

Johnny had this friendly back and forth nearly every day with the charming little mermaid he shared hunting grounds with. Always a good few feet away… he’d seen you snatch a shark up and dig your teeth right into its flesh.

He knew better than to get too close.

But, every day his boat (and him) seemed to get closer to you.

He’d read up somewhere that sirens liked shiny things. Though he quickly learned, after you allowed him to examine your body from afar, that you were no siren. Your teeth resembled his own, an omnivore mix. Your body was curvaceous, your breasts supple. Easily a handful. (And to his utter delight, your nipples were star shaped!) You even allowed him to draw you and add it to his research.

The difference to your much more carnivorous and cruel counterpart the siren was obvious if anyone looked closer.

You seemed to like jewels and silver just as much though, immediately grabbing whatever he threw into the water and dragging it down into the depths to study. And you were equal as capable of dragging him in as well to drown him.

“Are you getting in the water today?” You asked, circling his boat from a comfortable distance.

“Not today, bonnie.” He called back, offering you a small pout. “But! I have a gift for you if you can bring me some nice fish.”

“How nice?”

He paused, watching your long tail flow through the water. “An eel..?”

You were gone in a second, diving deep into depths and you surfaced just as quickly. A nearly gutted eel in your palm. “Will this do?”

“Gave ye trouble?”

“Stung me!”

“Oww..” He beckoned you over to the boat as he began rummaging through the sack. “Well, I hope ye’ll like this…”

Johnny extended his hand, a small black box resting in his palm. “Go on..”

You hesitated before quickly tossing the eel into his boat and snatching up the box, immediately diving into the water to inspect.

You quickly tug open the box, your lips parting in awe as a small ring floats out.

Johnny had given you rings before but they were big, bronze, and clearly cheap quality. This was different, a gorgeous silver band with a cluster of stones in the center.

“This! This ring is special!” You exclaim as you break the surface of the water.

“It is. Has meaning to humans.” He explains, watching you hold the ring up to the sun as you lazily circle him again.

“Meaning? What meaning?”

“Usually love whoever they’ve given it to.”

“Love.. do you love me?” You asked curiously, floating towards his boat. Closer than you’ve ever been before.

“I am interested in ye.” He admits, leaning towards you. “Not love.”

“Not love..” You repeat, your eyes widening in shock as he holds his hand out to you. “You can’t have it back!!”

“I don’t—I ain’t asking for the ring!” He huffs, leaning over the edge of the boat to grab your hand. “Come here..”

You felt your body tense as he pulled you closer to the boat. So close….close enough that you could pull him in.. and placed a kiss on the back of your hand before dropping it. “Make sure yer wearin’ that ring daily..”

“Oh.. so you’ll get in the water then…?”

“Not today, lass.”

“Tomorrow..?

“Maybe.”

#john soap x reader #captian john price #soap x reader #simon riley cod #ghost x soap #ghost cod #soap cod #task force 141 #tf 141 headcanons #captain john price #john price #john soap mactavish #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you

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keisgirl · 1 day ago

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the last serve ; atsumu miya

enemies to lovers ahh plot!!

you weren’t supposed to end up at volleyball.

you’d signed up to be the manager of the basketball team. you liked basketball. you understood the game. the rules made sense. it didn’t hurt that the team captain was cute either. but the teacher in charge of club placement misread your form. and now you were stuck with volleyball.

inarizaki volleyball team, specifically.

the first day, miya atsumu looked you dead in the eye and said, “great. another one.”

you didn’t know what he meant at the time. you would learn.

"another one" meant another manager who couldn’t keep up. who asked too many questions. who didn’t know what ‘pipe’ meant. who brought the wrong kind of tape. another distraction. another name he wouldn’t bother remembering.

he remembered yours anyway.

mostly because you annoyed him.

you asked questions. you took notes during practice. you made charts. you had a planner with page tabs and color codes. you told him once to stop flirting with a girl near the vending machine and get back to drills.

he hated that. he hated you.

for a while.

you got used to being around them fast.

aran was the first to treat you like a human being.

“ignore him,” he told you after practice one day, nodding toward atsumu, who was sulking on the bench after missing a serve. “he’s allergic to being told what to do.”

“that would explain the twitch in his eye when i said the word ‘schedule,’” you muttered.

aran snorted. “you’ll survive.”

osamu was... tolerable. mostly quiet. liked snacks. rolled his eyes whenever atsumu got too loud, which was often.

suna said little, but watched everything. you once caught him filming atsumu mid-tantrum and later learned he edited it into a meme and sent it to the whole team group chat. he called you ‘boss’ sarcastically after that.

but it was kita that you respected. everyone did. he didn’t say much. didn’t yell. didn’t need to. when kita looked at you, it felt like he saw through you. once, you forgot to update the hydration schedule. he didn’t scold you. he just said, “we trust you. that’s why we expect better.”

you never forgot again.

the first year passed like that. cold silence. glares. short, clipped conversations.

“water.”

“stretching sheet.”

“stats?”

and then you’d hand him whatever it was without looking at him.

you weren’t trying to impress him. you didn’t want anything from him. that’s what pissed him off the most.

people always wanted something from him. attention. praise. a photo. a text back.

you didn’t even want to be there. he could tell.

but you still showed up. rain or heat or tournament stress, you were always there. taping ankles. cleaning floors. analyzing footage. your handwriting in the match notes was always a little crooked at the bottom, like you were writing them late at night.

still, he never said thank you. not once.

second year was worse.

he started getting good. scary good. the kind of good that made other schools hate him. the kind of good that meant he started getting cocky. loud. unbearable.

you rolled your eyes every time he smirked after a spike. you told him to stop winking at the crowd. you said he wasn’t oikawa, and that set him off.

"take that back," he said, walking up to you after practice, hair damp and jaw tense.

"no," you said, shoving the towel into his chest.

he stared at you, chest rising and falling. sweat on his collarbone. mouth parted like he was about to say something cruel.

but he didn’t.

you walked away first. you always did.

third year was... different.

you’d both grown.

he cut his hair. started waking up earlier. started listening more. and you weren’t the same either. you’d gotten sharper. more confident. louder when you needed to be.

you were both older. almost adults.

that was the problem.

sometime after the summer training camp, something shifted. it was the way he looked at you now. it wasn’t annoyance anymore.

it was something else.

it started when you were alone in the gym, going over the libero stats. he came in late, said nothing, just grabbed a drink and leaned against the wall.

you glanced up, only to find him staring at you. hard.

you raised a brow. “what?”

he didn’t blink. “nothin’.”

but he didn’t stop staring.

and then there were the touches.

too-long handoffs. his fingers brushing yours when he grabbed tape. the way he’d lean close when you showed him game footage, shoulder pressed to yours, breath warm on your cheek.

the smirks returned too. not loud, not performative—quiet ones. like he knew something you didn’t.

you didn’t say anything.

neither did he.

the first real incident happened after a match.

you lost.

everyone was tense. it was the first major loss of the season, and no one wanted to speak.

atsumu lingered.

he didn’t get on the bus right away. instead, he stood outside, unwrapping his knee brace, jaw clenched.

you walked past him to load the equipment.

“you gonna cry about it or get on the bus?” you said.

he looked up sharply.

“fuck off,” he muttered.

you shrugged. “just saying.”

you thought he’d ignore you. instead, he walked over and backed you into the storage shed wall.

“you got a problem with me, manager-chan?” he said low, mocking.

you looked up at him. he was close. too close. his breath smelled like sports drink and mint gum. your heart kicked hard against your ribs.

“no,” you said. “just think you could’ve passed more.”

he scoffed. leaned in a little more. “maybe i like pissin’ you off.”

your voice came out quieter than you meant. “maybe it’s mutual.”

his eyes dropped to your mouth.

then he stepped back.

“get on the bus,” he muttered.

you did.

but you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

after that, it got worse.

you’d find yourself looking for him during drills. watching the way his hands flexed before a jump serve. the way his uniform clung to the line of his back.

he flirted less with other people. but not with you.

with you, it wasn’t flirting. it was... watching. wanting.

you caught him staring at you during water breaks. caught him biting his lip when you tied your jacket around your waist.

it was insane.

you didn’t even like him.

you used to hate him.

but the thing about hatred is that it’s just passion in disguise. and passion, when left to simmer for too long, starts to rot. starts to burn.

by winter, you were both burning.

the second real incident happened after a late practice.

you were alone again. the gym lights dim. snow outside.

he stayed back.

you pretended not to notice, packing up towels.

“you need a ride?” he asked suddenly, voice echoing in the empty space.

you looked up. “no.”

he walked over anyway. stood in front of you. silent.

“what?” you asked.

he didn’t say anything. just stared.

and then he kissed you.

rough. quick. like he couldn’t help himself.

your hands were full of towels. your mouth was full of him.

you kissed back.

you shouldn’t have.

but god, you did.

he pulled away first.

you stared at each other, breathing hard.

then you left. didn’t say a word.

you didn’t talk about it.

you couldn’t.

it happened again two weeks later. after another win. this time in the locker room hallway. this time slower. more desperate.

he pulled your jacket down your arms. you tugged at the waistband of his warm-ups. it didn’t go far. it never went far. just hands. mouths. heat.

you never talked.

but you always came back.

finals season hit. college decisions. stress.

he started texting you.

it started with questions. game stuff. logistics. reminders.

then it was jokes. then it was late-night “u up?” texts. then it was nothing but your name in lowercase and a photo of his hand with a fresh wrap, like he needed you to see him.

you always answered.

you didn’t know what this was.

you weren’t dating. he never said you were pretty. he never asked you to hang out. you never kissed in daylight. only in corners. only in shadows. always hidden. always quiet.

but it still felt like something.

something dangerous.

spring rolled in.

you both knew it was almost over.

you had three matches left.

he started acting strange.

quieter. more focused. but his eyes would still find you. in the gym. on the bench. in the stands.

he kissed you before semi-finals.

you were in the equipment shed again. it was raining.

he pushed you against the wall, tongue in your mouth, hands on your hips.

“we shouldn’t,” you whispered.

“then stop me.”

you didn’t.

after the final match, you both stood alone outside the gym.

the rest of the team was celebrating.

atsumu leaned against the railing, hair wet with sweat, jersey half untucked.

you walked over slowly.

“you were good,” you said.

he didn’t look at you. “i know.”

you rolled your eyes. “so humble.”

he finally looked at you. “gonna miss this.”

you nodded. “me too.”

a pause.

then, softly—

“gonna miss you, too.”

you froze.

he never said things like that.

you looked at him. he looked tired. real.

“you don’t have to,” you said.

he laughed once, bitter. “what, you wanna sneak around in college too?”

you didn’t answer.

he stepped forward. closer than he ever had.

“i hated you when we met,” he said.

you smirked. “i know.”

“thought you were annoying. too serious. always in my fuckin’ business.”

you tilted your head. “and now?”

he stared at your mouth. then your eyes.

“still think you’re annoying,” he whispered. “but i want you anyway.”

you kissed him first this time.

he held your face like he meant it.

like he’d been waiting for this the whole damn year.

you didn’t know what would happen after graduation.

you didn’t know what he’d be to you in a year. in a month. in a week.

but you knew this:

miya atsumu hated you once.

and now he couldn’t stop wanting you.

not even if he tried.

#keisgirl 🌷#hannahly!'s thoughts #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #fluff #haikyuu angst #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu x you #hq atsumu #miya twins #miya atsumu #haikyuu atsumu

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purrfectkarma · 2 days ago

Text

✦ POWER AND CONTROL ✦

PAIRING — shadow the hedgehog x fem!reader

WARNINGS — MDNI 🔞

PROMPT — you tease him, ride him, and think you’ve won… until he flips you over and shows you who’s really in charge

WORD COUNT — ~3.5k

ART CREDIT — @ cutefish_16y on Instagram

AUTHOR’S NOTE — this was supposed to be a “little teasing moment” and instead it turned into couch-breaking smut + battle for control energy. I imagine mobian or human reader works, as long as she knows how to drive him wild.

🖤🔥 “You act like you’re in charge.”

“You just think you are.”

and that’s how the skirt came off.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

⛓️

You were in one of G.U.N’s remote safehouses, tucked away after a mission that left your adrenaline still humming. The lights were low, casting golden shadows on the walls as you perched on the arm of the couch, legs crossed in your short skirt, a half-read mission report resting in your lap. You hadn't even changed yet—your skirt clung to your thighs, scuffed boots still laced, and your shirt slightly untucked from the chaos earlier.

You flipped a page absentmindedly—until you heard the door creak open.

Shadow stepped in, his silhouette cutting sharply through the dim light. His chest was still rising and falling from the fight, a few strands of fur singed, gloves torn, and eyes glowing faintly beneath his furrowed brow. He looked like a storm held barely in check.

You glanced up, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Didn’t take you for the dramatic type,” you teased, eyes skimming his form. “You just had to flip over the explosion like that?”

He smirked back, walking slowly toward you.

“Admit it. You liked it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe a little.”

He stopped just in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes.

“You’re always watching,” he said, voice low, velvet-wrapped danger. “I can feel it. Every time I’m near you… your heartbeat changes.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t back down. “That’s because you insist on standing in my space.”

Shadow leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear.

“Funny. You never move away.”

You didn’t. You couldn’t. His presence was like gravity—pulling you in, heavy and hot. And he knew it.

His gloved fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your chin up gently.

“You’re not afraid of me.”

You met his gaze, steady. “Should I be?”

He chuckled low, rich and intimate.

“Maybe. But I think you like the danger.”

Then he kissed you—slow at first, a test. But the second your lips met his, restraint slipped. His hand tangled into your hair while the other wrapped tightly around your waist, dragging you into him with a need that had clearly been building for far too long.

You broke the kiss, breathless.

“I could get used to this side of you.”

Shadow grinned—real, unguarded, and somehow even more dangerous.

“Good. Because it only comes out for you.”

Still holding you close, his breath warm against your lips, his usual icy control was clearly slipping. You felt it in the tension of his grip, in the hunger darkening his crimson eyes.

You let your fingers trail up his chest, slow and teasing, stopping just under his jaw.

“You act like you’re in charge,” you whispered.

His brow arched. “And I’m not?”

You leaned in, lips brushing his—but not kissing him yet. Close enough to tempt. To test.

“No,” you purred. “You just think you are.”

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t move. He let the heat grow, let the tension simmer, let you think you had the upper hand. That was the thing with Shadow—he didn’t rush. He stalked. He waited. Until he was ready.

You grazed your lips along his jaw, up toward his ear, voice barely a whisper.

“You like it when I push back… don’t deny it.”

In one swift move, his hand caught your wrist, firm but controlled. His face was mere inches from yours, his voice molten steel.

“Careful.”

You smirked. “What? Gonna punish me?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his lips crashed against yours again, harder now, needier. His restraint dissolved as he pulled you down onto the couch beneath him, your back against the cushions, your legs still hooked around his waist.

His kiss stole the breath from your lungs, and when you gasped, his tongue found yours in a slow, claiming dance. His hand slid down your thigh, fingers grazing the edge of your skirt as he pressed himself closer, your bodies flushed and burning.

You broke the kiss with a soft gasp, your voice breathy.

“Still think you’re in charge?”

His grin was wicked.

“No. I think we both are. That’s what makes this fun.”

You grinned back, lacing your fingers behind his neck as you drew him even closer, wrapping your legs around his hips, grinding slightly just to feel the way he tensed.

“Why not take turns?” you whispered in his ear.

Shadow’s breath caught.

Then, slow and deliberate, he lifted your legs, one hand sliding beneath your skirt to grip your thigh. His other hand hooked around the edge of your panties, dragging them down with excruciating patience, his eyes locked on yours the whole time.

When the soft fabric hit the floor, flung somewhere into the dark, his lips found yours again—slower now, more deliberate. His gloved fingers teased lower, between your thighs, finding the warmth he was craving.

Shadow’s words sent a shiver through you—“You’re so wet”—and you could barely respond, your breath catching as his fingers teased you with slow, confident strokes.

Shadow was watching your every reaction, his eyes half-lidded, glowing with hunger and control.

You shifted slightly under him, your thighs still wrapped around his waist, and that’s when you felt it—him, hard and ready against you.

You let out a low, teasing laugh, your hand slipping between your bodies to cup him.

“And you’re happy to see me.”

He groaned, hips jerking slightly into your touch. Your hand wrapped around him and began to stroke—slow, steady, and purposeful.

He let out a deep, guttural moan that sent heat straight to your core.

“You might be more dangerous than I am,” he growled against your neck, voice rough and reverent. Then, smirking against your skin—

“I love it.”

His lips found your throat, kissing, nipping, and tasting every inch of your skin as he slid the head of his length against your entrance, pausing—just long enough to feel your breath hitch.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he pushed into you, inch by inch.

You gasped, your back arching, nails pressing into his shoulders.

“Shadow…”

He groaned your name like it was something sacred, his hips moving with careful control as he filled you completely, the warmth, the stretch, the sensation of him overwhelming and perfect.

Your bodies moved together in perfect sync, each thrust deepening the fire that was already consuming you both.

Shadow’s breath was ragged now, his grip tight on your waist as he buried himself inside you again and again, each movement laced with unspoken desire and raw intensity.

But then, with a glint of mischief in your eye, you placed your hands on his chest and gave him a light push.

He blinked up at you, momentarily stunned as you eased him back against the couch cushions, your hips lifting just enough to make him slip out.

“My turn,” you said, voice low and dripping with seduction.

Shadow let out a quiet curse under his breath, his eyes locked onto you as you straddled him, taking control with a slow, fluid motion. You gripped his chest, your skirt bunched up at your hips, your bare thighs framing him perfectly.

You hovered just above him, teasing, letting the head of his cock brush your entrance before you began to lower yourself—agonizingly slow.

Your eyes stayed locked on his face, watching the way it contorted in pleasure, the way his lips parted with a quiet, broken sound he didn’t try to hide.

Finally, he was all the way inside you again, and you rolled your hips forward, grounding yourself against him, feeling every inch, every pulse.

You leaned forward, your hands sliding up his chest until your fingers tangled into the thick fur there. You gave it a playful tug, smirking down at him as you began to grind your hips in slow, deliberate circles.

He groaned—deep and raw—his hands flying to your hips to steady you, but not stop you.

“You’re going to drive me insane,” he breathed.

You leaned in, lips brushing his jaw.

“Good. You can lose your mind with me.”

You rolled your hips in slow, delicious circles, grinding against him with purpose, loving the way his breath caught, the way his grip on your waist faltered ever so slightly with each motion. You leaned forward again, lips grazing his, whispering just above them:

“Still think you’re in control?”

That did it.

With a low growl, Shadow’s hands suddenly gripped your thighs. Before you could tease him again, he moved—swift and commanding.

He flipped you over effortlessly, pressing your chest down against the couch cushions, your skirt hiked up, panties long forgotten. His hand gripped your hip firmly as he lifted your ass high into the air, lining himself up behind you.

“Let me show you how much I can lose it,” he snarled.

And with one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you again, deeper than before. You cried out, arching as he set a punishing pace—each thrust driving into your most sensitive spot with near-perfect precision.

Your fingers dug into the cushions, your body trembling from the intensity. Every movement sent waves of heat crashing through you, your moans spilling freely into the room. Shadow's grip on your hips tightened, his claws just grazing your skin as he growled with each thrust, fully lost in the rhythm of your body, in you.

“So tight,” he rasped, voice thick with need. “So perfect…”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth falling open as pleasure surged through you.

“Shadow—ah—Shadow!”

You could feel yourself spiraling, your climax building fast and hot and uncontrollable. Your walls clenched around him, your whole body tensing as the orgasm overtook you, crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You screamed his name, voice breaking from the intensity.

That was all it took.

With a final deep thrust, Shadow groaned loudly, his hips jerking as he spilled into you, the sensation overwhelming. His body trembled slightly as he held you there, his breath ragged against your back, his grip still tight—like he wasn’t ready to let you go.

The air was thick with heat, both your bodies still tangled and trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Shadow stayed there for a moment, his chest rising and falling against your back, breath warm against your skin. You could feel his heartbeat still racing through him.

Then, slowly, he pulled back and flopped beside you on the couch, one arm draped across his forehead, the other still loosely wrapped around your waist.

You turned to face him, completely wrecked and grinning.

“So,” you said, breathless, brushing some hair from your face. “That’s you ‘losing it,’ huh?”

Shadow glanced over, lips twitching into a half-smirk.

“You provoked it.”

You nudged his side. “You liked it.”

He let out a soft scoff, closing his eyes. “I tolerated it.”

You laughed. “Right. Is that why you were moaning my name like you forgot how to speak?”

His eyes opened slowly, glowing with that familiar, dangerous gleam. He turned toward you, raising an eyebrow.

“And is that why you were screaming mine like the world was ending?”

You bit your bottom lip, heat rising to your cheeks—but you didn’t back down.

“I was doing you a favor. Boosting your ego.”

Shadow rolled on top of you again, pinning your wrists gently but firmly above your head, his grin now fully formed, dark and amused.

“You think this ego needs help?” he whispered, nose brushing yours.

You arched a brow, pretending to consider it.

“Maybe just a little.”

He kissed you hard—quick and possessive—before pulling back just enough to murmur:

“Careful. I’ve still got energy to prove you wrong.”

You gasped dramatically. “What happened to recovery time?”

Shadow smirked.

“I recover fast.”

Your legs curled around his waist again, playful, daring.

“Then I guess we’re not done yet.”

He growled in delight.

“Not even close.”

#shadow x reader #shadow #shadow the hedgehog #the ultimate life form #x reader #writing #shadow the hedgehog x reader

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 1 day ago

Text

He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Ten

Summary: Meeting his family is something you're not sure you should've agreed to...but there's no turning back now. Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 1.8k~ (I'm sorry it's so short but it felt like a good place to stop) a/n: It's been way too long since I last updated this and I know the update is short but I feel like if I held onto this for any longer it would've take me forever to finish the rest of it but I hope you enjoy! Start from the beginning

The ride over to Jungkook's house is quiet, some might say silent, the only noise being the soft hum of the engine and the various sounds of cars passing by.

"I hope you know they're going to love you" Jungkook whispers once our eta hits about ten minutes out, giving me a last second pep talk.

"What if they don't?" I mumble, my hands fisting the hem of my sweater, the turtle neck seeming so much tighter than it usually is, making me tug on the collar. Nervous fidgeting something I've been plagued with since I was a child.

An unfortunately it seems like that's not about to change anytime soon.

He startles me when he places his hand over mine, slipping it under where my grip on the sweater is practically iron. I loosen up for him just enough to let his fingers lace through mine, bringing it up to his lips and placing a kiss on the back of my hand.

"You'll do great, and you can use me as a human shield if you need to. Although my sister will probably end up wiggling her way between us" he chuckles, imagining the scene now.

"You still haven't told me much about them" I point out and he hums.

"My sister Jieun is six, my brother Jiwon is ten and then my oldest younger brother is Junseo who's twelve" he lists off as if they were a shopping list.

"Okay well that doesn't tell me much about them" I chuckle and he shrugs. "You'll learn more when we get there" he smiles softly at the thought of me meeting his family.

I sigh and close my eyes, quietly saying his siblings names under my breath so I can memorize them. He notices but doesn't say anything, placing another kiss on the back of my hand before letting go, opening the garage door so we can pull in.

He comes around to open my door for me and before I'm even able to get out the door to the garage flies open and Jieun runs out to greet us.

"Jungkook Jungkook you took forever! Can you please help me make cookies tonight. Please? Mom bought the ingredients for them but she didn't have time to make them" she pouts once she gets to the end of the message that she's clearly been dying to say to him all day.

"Oh" she says softly when she notices me, hiding behind Jungkook and peeking out from behind him, holding onto his shirt making me smile.

"Sorry, she's a little shy" he chuckles bringing her out from behind him and crouching down to talk to her, her eyes still a little wary of me. "This is y/n, can you say hi?" he says, the soft tone he uses with her makes my heart flutter.

"Um, hi" she says, her loud and excitable behavior from when she first came out a distant memory. "Hi Jieun, it's nice to meet you" I say softly and her eyes light up a bit, surprised to see I already know her name.

"Let's go inside so she can meet everyone" Jungkook says softly still and she nods, taking Jungkook's hand, with him instinctively reaching for mine which I take, my heart beating a million miles a minute. One down, three to go.

Once we enter we're met with a clean simple house, the low hum of the tv with Jiwon sitting in front of it soon catches my eye.

"We're home" Jungkook calls out, immediately alerting everyone that he hasn't come home on his own making Jiwon's head turn. His eyes land on me first and then on Jungkook, then to our interlocked hands and he jumps up, making a bee line for the hallway.

"Hey!" Jungkook calls out to him, but I chuckle and place a hand on his arm. "It's okay, kids get nervous around people they don't know". Despite my reassurance Jungkook still spares a glare down the hallway before turning back to Jieun.

"Where's mom?" he asks but she shrugs, "I dunno, maybe in her room? I'll go check!" she says and scurries down the same hallway her brother had disappeared down.

"They look just like you" I smile, watching her disappear as well, my focus soon going back to him. "You should see Junseo, he's practically a carbon copy of me" he says, leading me over to the kitchen. "Well except for the fact that the kid is a wiz. Always in his room studying or reading. He's a freshman in high school already so he's got a lot of homework these days" he says and I pause at that.

"You said he was only twelve though. Did he skip two grades or something?" I ask, my eyes gone wide at the thought of it. "Yeah, they let him skip third and fourth grade, figured they wouldn't be challenging enough for him" he smiles to himself, clearly proud of his little brother.

"Did you want something to drink?" he asks, grabbing a cup from the cabinet leaving me just requesting water and thanking him softly once he's handed it to me.

"Come on! You have to see her! She's so pretty" I hear Jiwon's voice making me chuckle, already taking a shine to him. "I don't care about some girl. I need to finish my homework" what I assume is Junseo's voice following.

"Hey" Jungkook says, his voice a lot sharper with the boys, making them freeze when they come into view, both of their eyes wide, going between Jungkook and I.

I watch as a rosy blush blooms on their ears in embarrassment.

"Junseo come here" Jungkooks says, that sharp tone still present leaving Junseo's eyes turning down as he comes closer. "She's not just some girl. She is very important to me so I expect you to be respectful. Got it?" he scolds and Junseo nods, bowing to me slightly and mumbling an apology.

"It's okay Junseo, you can go finish studying" I say and his head pops up, the blush now reaching his cheeks after hearing me speak to him. "Thank you" he says quickly, his voice cracking slightly leaving his eyes widening again, turning around and practically running back to his room.

"That's funny, I've never seen him act like that before" Jungkook hums and I chuckle. "He really is your 'mini me'" I agree with his earlier statement and he frowns. "Come on, I have a lot more game than he does" he scoffs and I nod.

"Yeah, but seems like you both have the same taste in older women" I say making him choke on air. His coughs make me chuckle, giving him the glass he had gotten me and rubbing his back while he drinks the water.

"I see that you're already making a fool of yourself in front of her" I hear an amused voice say behind me. I turn and see a woman with a tight slick back bun and a white pressed uniform, the confident way she carries herself leaving my eyes now the ones widening just a bit.

"Sorry mom" he coughs a few more times and clears his throat. "This is-" "It's so nice to finally meet you" she cuts him off, basically admitting to the fact that he's spoken about me enough for her to know exactly who I am.

"It's nice to meet you too Mrs. Jeon. Thank you for having me, you have a lovely home" I say and she smiles, a glint in her eye now helping me relax.

"Thank you for coming to help with these little rascals. Jungkook looks practically torn to shreds by the time I get home most mornings but hopefully they won't give you too much trouble" she says, smoothing down Jieun's hair after she's stepped out from behind her mom, her posture now a little less wary.

"I'll do my best" I smile leaving her returning it, a little nod showing me that she believes in me.

"You're welcome to stay the night if you'd like. I'm sure Jungkook will be a complete gentleman and sleep on the couch, right?" his mom says, directing her line of sight over to him, clearing his throat and nodding right away.

"And if he doesn't at least make sure what ever's done behind that closed door cannot be heard" she says after covering Jieun's ears leaving Jungkook choking again. "I'll make sure he behaves himself" I say and pat his back again, leaving her smiling.

"I knew I liked you" she chuckles, excusing herself so she can gather all of her things before she goes to work. "Be good for Jungkook and y/n" she calls out to the three and they respond simultaneously with a 'Yes mom' making me smile at the clear routine of theirs.

"Be good" she directs a laser focus on Jungkook, and he nods. "Have a good night at work" he says and she smiles, satisfied with his response.

"Thanks again" she says as her final farewell, this now directed at us both leaving the pair of us waving until she closes the door, Jungkook practically slumping against the counter, the tension he was clearly feeling leaving his body.

"You were more nervous than I was" I laugh, turning to face him and resting against the counter as well, his slumped form now straightening.

"You should've seen the way she's treated my past girlfriends on first meeting" he says, filling the glass he had taken from me with fresh water before handing it back to me. "How many girlfriends have you had?" I ask, taking a sip but keeping my eyes on him.

"Like three, no four or five...ish" he says, rubbing the back of his neck and a deep red blush reaching his cheeks. "You don't have any kids right?" I ask and smile when he gets even more panicked.

"No! No no no absolutely not" he shakes his head over and over. "I promise I really don't. In terms of calling them girlfriends it was always a little unclear. Like we got to the talking stage and then we'd spend some time together but then they'd get upset because I couldn't spend enough time with them and break up with me. Only three of them ended up meeting my family though" he explains and I nod.

"I believe you" I smile, clearly showing I was joking, leaving him letting out a breath. "If I did I would've told you" he says softly and I nod. "I know" I smile again, this one softer, one reserved just for him and I can tell he can see the difference.

I reach up and fix his hair, it having gotten quite ruffled in the process of convincing me his own bloodline so far has begun and ended with him.

He pulls me closer and buries his face in my neck, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist.

"What's this for?" I ask, holding him close as well. "I'm just really happy they like you" he mumbles just loud enough for me to hear, making me smile. "Me too" I say softly, the picture frame of their family of six behind him catching my eye, the last of which still being a mystery.

"Me too"

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womanofwords · 2 days ago

Text

Darling Demon (Part 19)

Yandere!batfam x betrothed!neglected!male!reader x yandere!demon!spouse

TW: public humiliation, consensual non-consent.

Azrir had won. They'd taken your virginity at long last, and it felt like fireworks were exploding in your head the whole time. Yeah, being married to them for eternity would be pretty damn good. Most demons would then parade their human around while tormenting them in whatever ways they wanted for the rest of eternity, but Azrir couldn't afford to do such a thing. A prize like you had to be kept safe, after all.

And definitely bragged about.

"Little prize, I have an offer for you," Azrir said. "I've been meaning to show you off, but I had to wait until your virginity was taken so the other demons could smell the sex on you."

"You guys can smell that?" you whimpered.

"Yes, darling. In order to show you off, I'll need to doll you up, and that means bathing you."

Gently, Azrir took you to a bathtub and drew water for you. "I am only going to use unscented soap on you so the scent of sex can still be detected," they explained, as sweat was scrubbed off you. Their hands were thorough, but not sexual, which felt like a relief. Thick, clawed hands rubbed shampoo into your hair. "You will be clean for this demonstration," Azrir said.

"Azrir, who are you going to show me off to?"

"Some of the lower demons. Winning a human spouse is a high honour for us. I want to show them what they will never have."

Humans were a status symbol? Well, that got you thinking. "Azrir, if human spouses are a status symbol, does that make me a trophy husband?" you asked.

Azrir paused, their hands temporarily freezing while soap suds latched onto their claws. "Technically, yes," they admitted.

"Well, Azrir, if I'm really going to be paraded around as your little trophy, then I should get some sort of reward. After all, I have to be actually tempting for this to work."

Azrir forced themselves not to laugh. Here you were, negotiating your way through their own display while being bathed like a show dog. "Very well, Y/N. What are your demands?"

"First, I want to be able to shapeshift on command, too. My family has a tendency of looking for me, and I don't want to be recognisable. Second, curse Damian into compulsively sucking his thumb explicitly while he is trying to be intimidating or cause pain."

"Consider both of those things done, little prize," Azrir said.

"Also, when we get back, I'm going to drink a cup of sex potion, tie you to the headboard, and top you like it's my only reason for existing."

Azrir's mouth curled into a large smirk. "Deal, little human. Now, put on this outfit and let's go taunt some grunts."

*_*_*_*_*_

The outfit Azrir picked out for you was merely a shirt that went halfway down your thighs with the words "AZRIR'S PRIZE" written on the front. "I don't have to remember lines, do I?" you asked.

"No, Y/N," Azrir said. "I must warn you, little toy, that my hands are often going to . . . have a little fun with you, but nothing too far. Just enough to torment those peons."

"I can live with that," you said, as Azrir hoisted you over their shoulder and began to take you to the ring of lust.

You were ogled a lot. You grew up not drawing much attention while with humans, but here, you were drooled over. You really were a prize.

"Give us a piece," a demon growled, reaching towards you. Azrir grabbed their hand between theirs and squeezed it, hard.

"Touch this human, and I shall eat you," they hissed. Demons fled. Azrir took you off their shoulder and cooed at you. "You poor thing, that must have been a nasty thing to see. There, there, I'm here."

You arrived in the ring of lust and met two demons that were significantly smaller than Azrir. "Azrir, what brings you to us?" one of them asked.

"Bringing you motivation," Azrir said, showing you off with pride. "I used to be a lowly and weak demon such as yourselves, but then I toughened myself up and fought for a human spouse. This is what you can have if you work hard. A little human to do . . . this to."

Azrir's hands went up your shirt, and you stifled a yelp. "This is a bit much!" you whimpered.

"I know," Azrir taunted, grinning as the hand over your crotch got more adventurous and audacious. "Want it to stop?"

You felt dizzy, head spinning. "No, Azrir. Please keep going."

"That's what I like to hear."

"So you brought your human spouse here to . . . taunt us?" the first one asked, notes of disbelief in their voice.

"No, of course not!" Azrir lied. "This is what you could have if you applied yourself."

"If that's the case, why are you blatantly pleasuring it in front of us?"

"Because I can and he's mine. And if you just put in the effort to be stronger, you could have one."

You were going crazy. If Azrir kept going, you would legit go insane. You weren't sure whether to be relieved or annoyed when they stopped and put you back over their shoulder.

"I'll see you around, peasants," they laughed, taking you back home to your bed while groping your behind.

Once you were alone together, you were glad to remove that damn shirt. "Honey, you did so well," Azrir said, smothering you in kisses. "And now, your rewards." Azrir snapped their fingers, and changes occurred.

Your body tingled, but only temporarily and it was over so quickly. That had to be the manifestation of your powers. You only really needed to change one thing, really.

"My love, you have shapeshifted your loins," Azrir said, looking down at your dick with alarm.

"All the better for pleasuring you with," you said, as you got yourself the lube and a cup of aphrodisiac.

Your mother screamed with pain as the scoreboard went up again. "WHY ISN'T THAT DEMON GETTING OFF OF MY SON?" she screamed.

"They can't. Your son is on top of the demon, and having a lot of fun with it," one of the demons said.

Limbs were sawed off again, and your mother screamed. "MAKE IT STOP!"

"We can't. It's honestly entertaining," another demon said. "Azrir knows what they're doing."

The numbers on the scoreboard spun again, and your mother's blood spurted in celebration.

Taglist: @tinybrie, @bunniotomia, @c4xcocoa, @darkmoka, @fightmebissh, @bloobewy, @chi1lllb, @cqerrz, @heart-cream, @noone1233nobody, @type-ink, @sonyboos, @atlasbatman05, @eyeless-kun, @zomqiez.

First

#creative writing #my writing #writing inspiration #writers #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #yandere #platonic yandere #yandere batfam #batfam #batfamily x neglected reader #romantic yandere

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kaizzz · 2 days ago

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Author’s Note

What started as a slow-burn Snotlout x Reader romance has quietly grown into something more layered — something a little messier, a little more human.

This story was always about fire: the fire of memory, the fire of identity, and the fire that sparks between people when they least expect it. While Snotlout remains the heart of the romantic thread, don’t be surprised if the story tugs at more than one bond — because love isn’t always clear, and neither is the heart when it’s trying to heal.

So is this just a Snotlout x Reader romance?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

But one thing’s for sure — no one’s walking out of this storm unchanged.

Thanks for reading, and keep flying with me.

— Kai

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

———-

Title: Edge of Memory

Chapter 1: Washed Ashore

The first sensation you registered was cold—deep and clinging, down to the marrow of your bones.

Then pain. Dull, throbbing, pulsing in time with the rise and fall of the ocean crashing behind you.

You opened your eyes slowly. Blinding white light.

The sun.

Sky, wide and clear.

And then—sand. Everywhere. Stuck to your face, caught in your hair, shoved down the back of your shirt.

Your body ached as if you'd been tossed from a dragon mid-flight. Every limb protested as you slowly rolled onto your side, coughing saltwater from your lungs. You didn't remember what happened—just vague sensations: cold water, a storm maybe, shouting... or was that just the sea?

You sat up shakily, head spinning. The beach stretched out around you like some foreign land, and when you looked behind you, all you saw was open water.

No memory. No name. Just instinct.

You pressed a hand to your chest. Still breathing. Good enough for now.

⸻

"Guys! Over here!"

Voices. Footsteps pounding on wooden planks and sand. You squinted at the figures approaching—young, armed, riding dragons.

Definitely not just beachgoers.

The first one to reach you was a tall, wiry boy with tousled brown hair and concerned green eyes. A black dragon landed behind him, sleek and alert, tail swaying protectively.

"Are you okay?" the boy asked, crouching down beside you. "You're—um—you're on Dragon's Edge. I'm Hiccup. We're the Dragon Riders. Do you remember anything? Your name? Where you came from?"

You blinked slowly. Hiccup. The name didn't ring a bell—but something about his face felt trustworthy.

"No," you rasped. "I... I don't remember anything. Just the beach. The water. That's it."

Hiccup nodded, not pushing. "Alright. That's okay. You're safe now."

Behind him, a chorus of voices burst into life:

"Do you think she's a spy?"

"She doesn't look like one."

"She totally looks like one—look at her boots!"

"She's literally barely standing, Tuffnut—how is she a spy?!"

You winced as the noise closed in. Hiccup raised his hand to calm the others. "Let's get her inside first. She's exhausted. We can ask questions later."

And for now, you were too tired to do anything but let them help you.

⸻

A Few Days Later

They didn't lock you up, which was a surprise. You half expected suspicion or cold stares, but instead you got hot soup, warm blankets, and a place to sleep near the fire.

Dragon's Edge was a strange place—half village, half fortress, perched on a rocky island constantly buffeted by sea winds. Dragons flew freely above the cliffs. It was chaotic, loud, and far too full of energy for your taste.

But it was safe. And for now, that was enough.

You stayed quiet, mostly. You watched. You listened. Hiccup seemed to be the leader. Astrid—the blonde with the sharp eyes and even sharper axe—was clearly second-in-command. The twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, were... chaos incarnate. Fishlegs was kind, if a bit eager to info-dump. And then—

"Hey there, mystery girl,"

—there was him.

Snotlout Jorgenson.

Arrogant, dramatic, and about as subtle as a flaming zippleback, he made it a personal mission to flirt with you daily, each attempt more ridiculous than the last.

He strolled up to you now, dragon-hook axe casually swung over one shoulder. His dragon, Hookfang, loomed nearby, lazily stretching his wings in the sun.

"You know," he said, flashing a grin like it was a weapon, "for someone who washed up like driftwood, you clean up pretty well."

You didn't look up from the basket you were weaving. "Is that your way of saying I look good, or that I still smell like seaweed?"

He blinked. "Uh—both?"

You raised a brow. "Wow. What a charmer."

Snotlout tilted his head. "Okay, see, I like this. The whole mysterious, wounded-warrior vibe you've got going? With just a little bit of sass? It's kind of hot."

You finally looked at him then, expression flat. "I'd rather wrestle a changewing."

"Ouch." He clutched his heart dramatically, staggering a step back. "Feisty and heartless. Be still, my beating chest muscles."

You turned away to hide the smirk tugging at your lips. You didn't talk much—but whenever Snotlout was near, you found your words easier to locate. Especially if they were the kind that made him squirm.

Behind you, Astrid snorted. "Don't encourage him. He's been insufferable since the day he learned what flirting was."

"I invented flirting," Snotlout shot back.

You raised a hand without turning. "I sincerely apologize to the world on your behalf."

That earned a whoop of laughter from Ruffnut somewhere up on the watchtower.

⸻

That Night

The dragons settled in first. Hookfang curled near the edge of the cliff, wings tight against his body. Toothless perched beside Hiccup, head resting against the boy's shoulder. The air smelled like woodsmoke and sea salt, and the wind carried the distant roar of waves crashing against rocks.

You sat by the fire, legs drawn close to your chest, fingers tracing the stitching on the blanket Astrid had given you. No one was asking questions tonight. They'd learned quickly that forcing memories didn't work—and that you preferred silence over sympathy.

Still, you could feel eyes on you sometimes. Curious, cautious, kind. No one accused you of lying. No one assumed the worst.

Which was almost worse, in a strange way. You didn't deserve this level of trust.

You didn't even know your name.

Snotlout dropped down beside you suddenly, a bit closer than necessary, but not uncomfortably so.

"Hey," he said, unusually quiet for once. "I, uh, brought you this."

He held out a small chunk of fried fish wrapped in cloth. You took it with a nod.

"Thanks."

Silence stretched for a moment. Then—

"I bet you were a warrior," he said. "Before all this."

You looked at him, unsure how to respond.

"You've got that look," he added. "Like someone who's seen stuff. Fought stuff. Probably punched someone in the throat once."

You let out a small huff. "Just once?"

Snotlout grinned wide. "See? I knew I liked you"

———

#httyd hiccup #httyd #httyd snotlout #httyd rtte #adventure #memory loss #romance #snotlout x reader #hiccup x reader

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reveryfics · 2 days ago

Note

okay one last little tidbit ... wee bit unrelated... but John Walker with the second marriage trope, plus some fluffy knuckle kisses, plus his son being flower boy. Like do whatever you want with that. 🙏 that's it. that's the ask. TOODLEOO.

Perfect Ceremony

John Walker x Male Reader

Summary: You never imagined marriage for yourself, especially with a past like yours as a super-soldier. Yet, here you were, about to marry the man who meant everything to you. His son and ex-wife liking you too was just the icing on the cake.

A/N: I was so excited to write this, especially after we started talking about it more and more. I'm not incredibly happy with this one, I might end up doing it again in the future or different marriage fics for different characters.

TW: Fluff - Tooth rotting fluff - Marriage - Suggestive end

A life partner, marriage, even a casual relationship — these concepts were utterly foreign to you, almost laughable. They simply didn't compute within the demanding framework of your existence. Your days were a relentless cycle, first dominated by the rigid discipline of the military, and then, without much enthusiasm, by the even more intense demands of the government's super-soldier program. Any emotional entanglement felt like an unbearable weight, an unnecessary complication in a life already teetering on the edge of controlled chaos. Your mothers, bless their persistent hearts, never missed an opportunity to remind you, "You'll change your tune once the right person comes along." You'd typically just offer a noncommittal shrug, already mentally preparing for the next grueling training exercise.

The absolute last person you ever expected to challenge that deeply ingrained conviction was John Walker.

It wasn't as if you harbored any secret admiration for him before, quite the contrary. You'd pegged him as an egotistical asshole, a man more consumed with curating his public image than with genuine human connection or empathy. His swagger, his self-righteous pronouncements – they all grated on your nerves. You certainly couldn't pinpoint the exact moment your disdain began to fracture, to give way to something far more complex and unsettling. Perhaps it was the night he appeared on your doorstep, a shell of his former self, after the dust of his very public divorce had settled. He looked utterly lost, seeking solace not from the throngs of admirers he once commanded, but from you, the one person he believed wouldn't offer judgment.

That night, amidst the wreckage of his shattered reputation, he confessed the true weight of the shield, the impossible expectations, and the moment he'd crossed a line he never thought he would. You, in turn, remembered your own dark moments, the times you’d been pushed to the brink. Looking at him, truly seeing him for the first time, you found yourself offering a quiet, unvarnished truth: "We do things when we're pushed too far by others. It's not because we want to, but because we believe it's the only choice we have left."

For John, that was the precise moment. In your words, devoid of condemnation, he found an unexpected sanctuary. It was then, amidst the shared understanding of desperation and impossible choices, that he realized he was undeniably, irrevocably falling for you. And to your utter shock, a tiny, almost imperceptible shift began within you as well.

Dating John Walker wasn't a sudden, Hollywood-esque romance. It was a slow burn, a gradual unfurling of two lives that were both deeply scarred and remarkably resilient. For you, the idea of a relationship, let alone one with someone as publicly scrutinized as John, still felt alien. And for John, the stakes were even higher. His realization of his bisexuality, sparked by his burgeoning feelings for you, was a seismic shift in his already chaotic world. He was terrified. Terrified that this, on top of everything else, would be the final nail in the coffin of his public image, forever cementing him as the villain in the American narrative. The fear gnawed at him that his ex-wife, Olivia, would weaponize it, severing his already fragile connection with their son, even if deep down he knew Olivia wouldn't be so cruel.

Your early dates were clandestine affairs, hidden from the prying eyes of the media and the relentless judgment of the public. They were quiet evenings spent in your apartment, or long drives to nowhere in particular, just talking. You learned about the weight of the shield from his perspective, the impossible expectations, and the isolation that came with being a symbol rather than a man. He learned about your own battles, the unseen scars of the super-soldier program, and the quiet strength that allowed you to carry on. There were arguments, certainly. Both of you were stubborn, set in your ways, and prone to lashing out when vulnerable. Your past traumas often collided, creating friction, but beneath it all, there was a growing respect, a shared understanding of what it meant to live a life irrevocably altered by service and sacrifice. You didn't always agree, but you always came back to each other, drawn by an invisible thread that neither of you fully understood.

As the months bled into a year, then two, something remarkable began to happen. Your quiet presence in John's life started to chip away at the walls he'd built around himself. With your encouragement, and a newfound sense of self-acceptance, John began to tentatively reconnect with Olivia. You, in turn, found yourself surprisingly at ease with her. She saw the positive influence you had on John, the way you grounded him and brought out a softer side she hadn't seen in years. What started as polite conversations at pick-ups and drop-offs for their son, slowly blossomed into a genuine friendship between you and Olivia. You'd grab coffee, share stories, and even commiserate about John's more exasperating habits. This unexpected alliance paved the way for John to finally mend fences with his son, building a relationship based on honesty and renewed trust, not just the fleeting, supervised visits of the past. It wasn't perfect, of course, but it was real, and it was a testament to the quiet power of your relationship.

Nearly three years into your unconventional, yet undeniably strong, relationship, you were still navigating the daily complexities of your lives. Marriage remained a distant, almost irrelevant concept to you. Your mothers, however, had seemed to possess some secret knowledge. Their knowing smiles, the subtle hints they’d drop, the way they'd look at you and John with an almost prescient understanding – it was all a mystery you couldn't quite decipher.

Then came the day. It wasn't grand or flashy, no public spectacle or dramatic gesture. It was a quiet evening, much like many of your early dates, just the two of you. He didn’t get down on one knee in a typical fashion, instead, he sat beside you, taking your hand in his, his gaze intense and unwavering. With a nervous tremor in his voice, but a profound certainty in his eyes, John proposed. It was a moment that stopped time, a question you had never, in a million years, expected to hear. The word hung in the air, echoing the silent hopes of your mothers, and igniting a whirlwind of emotions you hadn't realized you possessed.

The morning sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, but your focus was entirely on the reflection staring back at you. You stood between your mothers, a surreal tableau. One, with practiced hands, meticulously adjusted the lapels of your expensive tuxedo, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle. The other, with a softer touch, carefully arranged a few stray strands of hair that refused to cooperate. Every now and then, they'd exchange a look, a silent conversation of pride and disbelief that you knew all too well.

You hadn't, in a million years, envisioned this moment. Wearing a custom-tailored tuxedo, feeling the unfamiliar weight of silk against your skin, and peering out the window at a gathering crowd – it was a scene ripped from a life you never thought you'd lead. Down below, familiar faces mingled. Sam Wilson's family had arrived, their laughter carrying faintly on the breeze. There was Olivia, looking poised and elegant, a testament to the unexpected friendship you'd forged. She'd readily agreed to let her son, a whirlwind of youthful energy, be the ring bearer, a decision that warmed you more than you cared to admit.

And then there were the best men. Sam, ever dependable, had accepted the role for you with a knowing grin. For John, Bucky Barnes stood ready, a quiet strength beside him. It felt right, a balanced equation, given you'd stood as best man at their own wedding, witnessing their vows in a ceremony far less traditional than this one promised to be. The shared history, the battles fought and friendships forged, added another layer of significance to the day.

Your mother, the one who'd been fussing with your hair, gently turned your face towards her, her hands cupping your cheeks. Her smile was soft, radiating a warmth that always had the power to disarm you. "Look at my baby boy," she hummed, her voice thick with emotion. Her eyes, already glistening, searched yours. "So grown up and getting married." The last words were a whisper, a breathy testament to the overwhelming joy bubbling within her. You offered a genuine smile in return, placing your hands over hers, a silent acknowledgment of the unexpected journey that had brought you all to this very moment.

The hushed murmur of conversation died down as the music began to play—a simple, heartfelt melody chosen by your moms. You stood at the back, a nervous knot tightening in your stomach. This wasn't a grand, celebrity affair, no flashing cameras or sprawling guest list. It was just family, the kind you were born into, and the kind you'd forged along the way. That made it even more intimate, and somehow, more daunting.

John was already at the altar, a beacon of calm in his own sharp tuxedo. He stood tall, his gaze fixed on the aisle, a slight smile playing on his lips. As your mothers, one on each side, began to gently guide you forward, every eye in the room turned. You felt a blush creeping up your neck. You were never one for the spotlight, and walking toward someone you loved, under the collective gaze of everyone important in your life, felt incredibly vulnerable. You could feel your mother's comforting squeeze on your arm, a silent reassurance that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

When you finally reached John, he reached out, taking your hand in his, a quiet strength flowing between your palms. Your mothers stepped back, settling into the front row with a shared, teary-eyed look of contentment. The officiant, a kind woman who'd become a trusted confidante to both you and John, began the ceremony with words of love, commitment, and the extraordinary journey that had brought you both to this moment.

Then came the rings. There was a slight commotion from the back as John's son, looking adorable in a miniature suit, made his way down the aisle. He held a small, velvet cushion, looking incredibly serious about his important duty. Olivia walked closely behind him, a guiding hand on his back, her smile warm and genuine. The boy, eyes wide with importance, presented the rings with an almost ceremonial flourish, eliciting soft chuckles from the guests. John ruffled his son's hair affectionately, his gratitude evident.

As you exchanged vows, promises whispered from the heart, the world outside the small gathering faded away. It was just you and John, standing before those who mattered most, finally, unequivocally, choosing each other. The simple bands slipped onto your fingers, tangible symbols of a love that had defied expectations, overcome public scrutiny, and found its foundation in shared understanding and unwavering support. It wasn't perfect, you knew that. But it was real, it was earned, and in that moment, it was everything.

The officiant's voice was a warm hum, barely reaching the end of the traditional pronouncement, "You may now kiss your husband," before John acted. He didn't waste a second. With a tenderness that surprised even you, he brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there first. It was a private gesture, a silent promise, before his gaze met yours, full of unadulterated adoration. Then, he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both gentle and utterly certain.

The room erupted. Cheers and applause filled the air, a joyous cacophony of support and genuine happiness. You could feel the vibrations of it through the floor. When you and John finally pulled apart, breathless and beaming, Sam Wilson's hands were instantly on your shoulders, shaking you lightly, his face split into a wide, triumphant grin. "Took you long enough!" he shouted over the din, eyes sparkling with mirth. Even Bucky, typically stoic, offered a rare, genuine smile and a firm nod of approval from beside John.

The ceremony transitioned seamlessly into a lively celebration. The small backyard, transformed with string lights and simple decorations, buzzed with conversation and laughter. You watched, a warmth spreading through your chest, as friends and family mingled freely, a testament to the unexpected harmony that had blossomed from your unconventional journey.

As you were chatting with Sam and Bucky, you felt a small tug on your pant leg. Looking down, you saw John's son, his face alight with excitement. Before Olivia could even utter a polite warning, he launched himself forward, surprisingly agile, and landed squarely in your arms. You chuckled, catching him easily, his small arms wrapping tightly around your neck. Olivia, looking a little flustered, quickly followed. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I told him not to jump," she said, though a fond smile played on her lips.

"It's alright, Liv," you replied, giving the boy a squeeze before gently setting him back down. He immediately dashed off to join some other kids. "He's got energy, that's for sure."

Olivia leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Seriously though," she began, a genuine warmth in her eyes, "I just wanted to say... I'm so lucky to have you as a friend. And thank you, truly, for inviting me. For everything."

You smiled, touched by her sincerity. "Hey, the feeling's mutual. Who else am I going to complain to about John when he's being a pain?" You winked, and Olivia laughed, a bright, clear sound.

"Right? We definitely need to get that drink sometime," she agreed, "and talk all the trash we want."

"It's a date," you said, just as a familiar voice chimed in from directly behind you.

"Oh, I see how it is," John feigned a dramatic gasp, his hand pressed to his chest in mock offense. "Already plotting against your new husband, are we? And with my ex-wife, no less! The betrayal!"

You and Olivia burst into laughter, turning to face him. "Relax, Walker," you said, playfully nudging him with your elbow. "It's called quality bonding time. Besides," you added, a mischievous twinkle in your eye, "you know you're always worth talking about."

John grinned, a genuine, easy smile that erased all traces of the burdened man he once was. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close, and then extended his free hand to Olivia, a silent acknowledgment of the new, healthy dynamic between them. "Just remember who signed up for a lifetime of dealing with me," he said to you, his gaze full of playful affection.

"Oh, trust me," you retorted, leaning into his embrace, "I'm counting on it."

The house was finally quiet, the last echoes of laughter and conversation having faded with the departure of your guests. The string lights outside, now mere pinpricks of warm gold against the deepening twilight, were the only remnants of the joyous celebration. You and John lay in bed, the comfortable silence a stark contrast to the earlier cacophony. Your gaze drifted to the simple silver band on your left hand, a twin to the one on his. It wasn't fancy, no diamonds or intricate designs, but its understated elegance held more meaning than any opulent jewel ever could. It was a tangible symbol of everything you'd found in him, and in yourselves.

John stirred, rolling onto his side to face you. His hand reached for yours, gently pulling it closer. Just like at the altar, he brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there. A quiet chuckle escaped you, and you turned onto your side to fully face him, the moonlight casting soft shadows across his features.

"Today was... something else," you murmured, tracing the line of his jaw.

"It was perfect," John corrected, his voice a low rumble. "Better than I ever imagined." He shifted closer, his hand coming to rest on your hip. "And you, Mr. Walker, looked absolutely breathtaking."

You snorted softly. "Mr. Walker? Still getting used to that. Sounds more like you, honestly."

He chuckled, already inching closer, his body heat a comforting presence against yours. "Oh, no. It definitely suits you. Mr. Walker," he murmured again, the words a playful caress as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He peppered soft kisses along your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "Has a certain ring to it, don't you think? Better than it ever did on me." Each word was punctuated by another kiss, moving up your jawline towards your ear.

You shivered slightly, a smile tugging at your lips. "Nice try, Walker," you whispered, your hand finding its way into his hair. "But no amount of flirting, or stroking my ego, is going to change the fact that you're not topping tonight."

John let out an exaggerated gasp, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes wide with mock offense. Before he could utter a protest, you used the leverage of your position, a practiced move honed over years of playful sparring, to flip him onto his back. You were suddenly hovering above him, a victorious smirk on your face.

"Besides," you said, leaning down to capture his lips in a slow, possessive kiss, "it's even better this way."

#john walker #john walker x male reader #thunderbolts john walker #john walker thunderbolts #thunderbolts us agent #marvel x male reader #marvel #fanfic #fanfiction #mlm #x male reader #xmalereader #requested #marriage #marriage fic #tooth rotting fluff #fluff #domestic fluff

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nohara-rin-dot-mp3 · 2 days ago

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It is a beautiful day, and Nohara Rin is planning a murder.

It is not a hard thing to plan. Humans die so very, very easily. A little too much pressure or a cut in the right place will leave a person emptied of personhood within second. It's astounding how easy it is to reduce a human being, complex and beautiful and alive, to a horrid, wretched, rotting pile of meat.

Generally speaking, when one plans a murder, one also plans a way to avoid being identified as the murderer. This is not something Rin needs to plan. The entire point of this murder is to be known as a murderer.

To be known for what she is.

It's easy to empathize with the soon-to-be-corpse. Rin, too, is horrid, wretched, and rotting. She is a shambling mess of meat dolled up in the pretty package of a girl. The main difference between them is that people will know that the corpse is a corpse.

Despite that fundamental disparity, she has reached an understanding with her victim (or rather, an understanding of her victim). She is sure that they will not mind dying. Being murdered is hardly the worst thing that can happen to a person: Rin would know, because she is experiencing worse.

It really is a beautiful day out. It's a shame she's having a hard time appreciating it.

Before long, her accomplice arrives. He is an unknowing one, but vital to the plan regardless. A poorly timed murder could be read as accidental or a simple fact of war, but the addition of an accomplice adds both witness and testament to the intention behind her actions. She needs to prove beyond reasonable doubt that she is guilty. She needs to prove that her actions were driven by spite, rage, and underneath it all, an unbearable emptiness. That there was no noble intent behind this murder that could change the definition of it to sacrifice, justifiable, or-

"Rin," says her accomplice. "We need to go."

This is step one of her plan.

They run through the rain, aimless and un-moored. Their destination, allegedly the village, does not matter. The world narrows to rain, feet on packed dirt, and the complex decision of where to commit a murder. Rin has yet to decide the exact location of it.

Her accomplice makes a helpful suggestion by skidding to a sudden stop. Rin looks over the clearing, generally not unhappy with the scenery, and decides that it is a perfectly suitable location for a murder. The branches block out the sky, leaving the stars unfortunately non-visible, but it's hardly the time to be picky.

From there, the only thing left to do is the murder itself. This is easy, easier than anything else Rin has ever done. Humans die so very, very easily, after all. The only hard part will be ensuring that it is clear that she is the one responsible for the murder, and that she did it because she is terrible and for no other reasons.

But even that seems easy, in the heat of the moment.

Rin drifts forward, rapidly untethering from reality as the moment approaches. Something giddy and light is building in her chest, unlike anything else she has ever felt. How horrific is that? Her first moment of joy arrives only in the face of homicide!

Kakashi lunges forward, and she see the face of her victim reflected in his eyes.

The murder happens like this: Rin throws her victim onto Kakashi's hand and satisfaction writhes through her guts. Her guts, also, coincidentally, fly out of her, organs mashed to paste against the unbearable force of reality. Her heart twitches once, twice, and then stops. She falls forwards, onto his outstretched arm, impaling herself further. She does not cry.

"Kakashi..." her victim rasps. All facades fall away. There is a corpse in his arms.

Rin does not die at the same time as her victim, on account of having died long before them, but everyone realizes that she is dead at the same time as they realize that her victim has been murdered. This is unfortunate. When preforming an autopsy, a mednin on the scene thought to check if the one half of the deaths were recent, and it was. No further investigation was made.

The problem with sharing a body with your murderer is that the reason behind your death will often be mis-defined as suicide.

#cw: rin-typical everything.#rinfic #rin nohara

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beautyoftheships · 1 day ago

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A little Drabble from forever ago that I don’t know if I’ll ever add too. I had plans and ideas but never made it very far. It’s heartbreaking- I apologize in advance for that.

He sat on the front porch watching the sun sink lower behind the houses across the street. Everything was bathed in golden light, the sky painted in soft colors. It was a beautiful sight, a beautiful moment. Or it would have been if the moment belonged to someone else. Someone who’s heart hadn’t been shattered into a million tiny pieces. Tiny pieces that were cutting into his chest in an effort to escape the pain. Tiny shards digging into his ribs and creating new wounds with each breath he took.

You’ll be okay kiddo. His dad had told him on his way out the door mere hours ago. The only comfort he’d offered since he’d come home in tears the night before. He knew his dad meant well but he was aware that his dad was more relieved by the events than anything else. Derek was to old. Derek had a record. Derek was a werewolf. His dad had plenty of reasons to celebrate them no longer being together. He thankfully kept his celebration to himself.

Want me to shoot him for you? Allison had been so sincere in her offer he couldn’t help but laugh through his tears when she’d stopped by earlier. She was the only one who hadn’t told him he’d be fine, that he’d get over it. She offered him her shoulder to cry on and her bow to make him feel better. If only that would make him feel better.

He didn’t want to hurt Derek. Didn’t want to cause any pain to him despite how easily he’d shattered his heart without a second thought. He knew why he’d done it, why he felt like he had to let go of what they had. Stiles just didn’t agree with him. He didn’t agree that he was safer not being attached to the alpha.

It felt like the safest place he could be was with Derek. By the alphas side, in his bed. How could he not be safe there? Sitting here felt like he was just waiting for someone to come along and see him all alone. To see him without the pack around him and to take that as an invitation to use him. It wouldn’t be the first time the human of the pack had been used to draw out the pack.

He tried to not feel bitter at those thoughts. Hell, he tried to not have those thoughts at all. He couldn’t help it though. Couldn’t help but feel bitter at being the only human in the pack. Sure Allison was human too but she was a hunter. She’d been trained on how to deal with the supernatural, how to be as strong as them. She knew how to survive and how to fight. All he was good for was his research skills.

Would anyone even miss him if he just packed up and left? Would they notice he was gone? How long would it take for them to notice? Would they notice before they needed him to research something?

Those thoughts weren’t helping him any. Then again, maybe they were? Maybe he really would be better off just packing and taking off? Maybe the pack would be better without him to weigh them down. Lydia could handle the research they needed. She often helped him do it wasn’t like she didn’t know what she was doing.

But his dad. His dad would surely miss him. He’d be alright though. He worked so much and was rarely around anymore as it was. He sure wouldn’t miss Stiles nagging him about eating better. And Melissa would check in on him. He didn’t know what was going on there but something was going on. So his dad would be okay. He’d call him and plan visits. He’d know he was okay and he’d miss him but it wasn’t like college wasn’t going to take him away anyways. This was just earlier than that. Earlier than they’d planned.

With his mind made up he stood from the porch, heading inside the dark house. The house was always dark and quiet. It wouldn’t change if he stayed or if he left. What would change when he left? Would anything even change? Would anyone even notice?

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #derek x stiles

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koifishhies · 4 months ago

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I finished The Song of Achilles today. I've been delaying getting to the end of it for a few months now, for obvious reasons but… ho.ly.fuck.

It's not that I didn't know how it ended. Not the details, but I knew the broad strokes. The armour, Hector, the infamous rage of Achilles. Even Pyrrhus and the tombstone. I knew. But there's just something so much more intimate about a book.

I'm not going to say I wailed and sobbed or anything, I didn't even put the book down. But from chapter thirty on I was just sitting there, quietly weeping as I flipped the pages. It wasn't one single climax moment of intense pain, but a drawn-out aching, each new sentence starting a fresh wave over and over again. But I didn't really stop reading. If I paused it was to blink the tears away so I could see again.

If there's any part I could say really did me in, though, it was, without a doubt: I am made of memories.

It's been so long since a book has done that to me. Again, there's something so intimate about a book. 'Cause you're the one imagining it all, you know? No two people will imagine it quite the same, even if they're reading the same words. You're delving into these characters' minds, but you're also letting them into yours. And everything feels so much more raw and human, that way.

There's also something to be said about the nature of ancient myths like this. These are stories that have lived on for literal thousands of years… because people cared about them so much. Saw themselves in them, saw their world in them, or even found it in their heart to empathize with a world they didn't know at all. Loved them and hated them and debated and cried over them. Even if the characters are fictional, it's a testament to our love for life and our fellow humans that we've let them live for so long; because at the end of the day, every story is a story of people. In this way stories become the epitome of us as humans; our love letter to life, no matter how often the damn thing hurts us.

I am far from the first person to cry over this story, but I am also far from the last. And there is just something so comforting about that, you know? Makes it feel a little less lonely to be alive.

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wandixx · 6 months ago

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GIW made a lot of mistakes and the biggest one was going against Young Justice part 2

part one is here

@whimsicalchaosgarden you asked to be tagged, sorry it took so long

Trigger warnings: mentions of experimentation and dehumanization (tell me if there is more appropriate way of phrasing it)

“So,” Robin started, taking the voice recorder out of his utility belt. “It'll probably be best if we get an explanation while making an accident report. This way we get it all over sooner”

Everyone agreed with this idea, standing in the loose circle in the debriefing area to make it all feel more serious. They had limited time before the next batch of cookies needed to be taken out of the oven and there was no way they all wouldn't devolve into chaos when it happened. M’gann knew from experience.

To make sure they wouldn't take too long and cookies wouldn't turn on the fire alarm (again) both she and Danny set a timer.

In the meantime they had to learn who actually attacked them earlier.

“Phantom do the honors”

Danny froze for a moment, looking like deer caught in the headlight before he asked in a bit squeaky voice:

“How do I make an accident report?”

“Just say what happened but make it sound fancy,” Artemis explained.

“Make a mission report and we'll fix it along the way,” Kaldur proposed.

“Answer ‘When? Where? Who was involved? What happened? What have you done about it?’ without excessive use of puns to avoid Bat-lecture” Robin helped, already in handstand.

“Bat-lecture? Really Rob?”

“So it's like lab report lite” Danny said before Robin did anything more than squawk indignantly “Alright, I can do it. Do you have any set phrase to start? And which accident report is it, in the database?"

“44th… How about ‘[Hero name], report’? Sounds serious enough.”

Everyone agreed, so after a moment of silence Kaldur did the honors.

“Phantom, report”

Danny straightened, rolling his shoulders back and locked his eyes in the middle distance. It was a bit eerie how fast he went from relaxed and goofy to almost emotionless statue. M’gann wished to never encounter it again, thank you very much.

“Incident report no. 45 made by Young Justice member Phantom, regarding an attack from earlier today, 26th April 20XX. The Young Justice Team, later referred to as the Team, went on a trip to an amusement park staying currently in the city of Happy Harbour. It was an activity meant to strengthen interpersonal relationships within the Team, previously green-lit by Red Tornado. Every member was in civilian attire as per protocol. Around 3:15 PM, after two and a half hours, the Team were disturbed by a group of ten armed people, recognized by member Phantom as belonging to Ghost Investigation Ward, colloquially known as GIW or Guys In White because of their uniforms. Later in the report the organization will be referred to as the GIW. Two shots were fired by the assailants, targeting but not reaching member Phantom. Members of the GIW were hostile but with use of humor and threat of legal actions, the Team managed to diffuse the situation before it endangered passerbys. Despite direct attack, none of the Team members’ identities were compromised. Assailants left the confrontation with belief that Phantom left his ectoplasmic signature on an unrelated civilian. Agents refused to admit they were working for the GIW since its operations break a couple of laws of the state Rhode Island. Because of that, their appearance was reported to local law enforcement and taken care of. No injuries or damage to the city infrastructure were sustained other than two burns in the asphalt in the place of confrontation. Required follow-up with local law enforcement in civilian attire as victims of assault. End of report” Danny sighed, easing back into a more natural position. “This good?” he asked, with a sheepish smile.

“Perfect”

“How are you so good at reporting? You didn’t even know what to do a second ago? That’s just unfair”

“I used to write my parent’s lab reports. It’s pretty similar in form”

“Lab-”

“Follow-up to the report only, Kid-Flash,” Robin interrupted “Phantom. elaborate on who were the assailants”

Danny stepped back from himself again.

“GIW is a ghost hunting organization supported and accredited by the state government in Illinois, legally operating also in states Wisconsin and Ohio. Their goal is to catch and examine ecto-entities to learn more about their biology and ways to obliterate them. Obviously their plans for experimentation don’t include consideration of ghosts’ well-being”

“Damn, that’s messed up”

“They wouldn't catch a blob ghost if they tried,” Danny shrugged, though something was wrong with the gesture. She wasn't sure though, so she moved on.

“Then why were you scared?” M’gann pressed on instead.

“My parents… are, you know, prominent ghost hunters so when GIW opened we all got a tour around the whole building. The lab was… it made me imagine things I wished I had never thought about”

“They have labs? Like evil labs?” Robin perked up like a kid who just heard that Christmas came early. “How could you hide it from us?!” he added, falling to hang on Danny's shoulder. He twirled a bit to catch the left one even though before he stood on halfa’s right side. Dramatic as always “Conner, we have a birthday gift for you!”

“What does GIW’s lab have to do with my birthday?”

“The potential!” Robin yelled, straightening for a better effect.

Everyone started laughing. Well, everyone other than Conner who just looked at them confused.

“He probably wants to storm another lab, bring up nostalgia of our first meeting,” Kaldur calmed down just enough to explain.

“Tell me you wouldn't like to punch an evil scientist,” Wally added, almost dropping to the floor.

“This does sound nice”

“And THIS is exactly the reason why I haven't told you all. Thanks for spoiling my surprise Rob,” Danny lied, though he did his best to sound truthful. He even projected some false mirth.

It would take much more to trick M’gann though. She abruptly stopped laughing.

“You're lying. Why actually haven't you told us?” she demanded maybe a little too harshly, but she was worried. Everyone froze for a moment, before turning to look at Danny.

“They're all bark no bite, and aim worse than Stormtroopers’, so I haven't considered them important enough to report”

Other's didn’t know, of course, but M’gann knew just how terrified Danny was during the confrontation and how echoes of that fear soured air around him even hours later.

Everyone did realize this explanation was a tone of bullshit though.

Apparently incredulous stares were enough of the response.

“You and the Justice League have more important things to deal with than some shitty local laws”

“Bullshit again,” Artemis burst her lips “This is exactly what Justice League is for”

“I already found people to help me lobby against them”

“And why aren't we on the list?”

Danny fell silent, not looking anyone in the eyes, which was quite a feat considering they had him in a half circle. M’gann considered moving to his side to show her support. Stare down like that had to be quite stressful.

Why not actually. She stepped closer, and drew him in the loose side hug. Danny tensed, which wasn't abnormal for him. He usually relaxed in about thirty seconds, if he didn't, she'd let go.

“I didn't expect them to breach the containment…”

“Each of these lies is worse, you know? Like, insulting our intelligence level of worse,” Artemis interrupted once more, pinning him with her eyes alone “Give us truth or stop talking”

Danny raised his head to look back at Artemis and mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing the key away.

“Really?”

Boy just shrugged, not breaking eye contact.

“Alright, let's move on to the next question, how did it get approved in the first place?” Wally interrupted, waving his hand between them. They both shook off like dogs fresh out of water.

“Couldn't you wait five more seconds until I won?”

“Ha! You wish Artemis. Though you could give us a moment”

“I gave you literal ages”

Danny snorted “Sorry, I keep forgetting how impatient you are”

“Oh shut up, my brain is just faster than yours, you slowpokes”

“Sure, sure”

“He made a good point,” Kaldur said “This shouldn’t even pass. And even if, you’re legally a Meta”

“Normal ghosts aren’t and halfas being a thing is not exactly common knowledge among the living”

“I’ll never get used to this distinction”

“I believe in you, Rob”

“What about ‘Extraterrestrial, extradimensional and otherwise previously unincluded’ Optional Protocol to the ‘International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights’?”

“Oh my god Conner, you’re the only person to say the whole name ever”

“Hey!”

“It all comes down to the definition of the ghost and the fact that Alien addition uses sentience and sapience as a ground to give anyone said rights. And also, US signed it but didn’t ratify it so…”

“Isn’t it same thing?”

“Nope. I thought so too, but apparently signing anything means nothing unless it’s also ratified, so I’m kinda fucked. Can’t even get the UN to frown at them disapprovingly, because officially, nothing was agreed to. And you know, even if they ratified it, ecto-scientists conducted enough research to prove we aren’t sapient enough to have these rights anyway. Just most of the states didn’t need to make a law out of it”

“That’s rough buddy”

“Are you really quoting Avatar at me right now? Really Artemis?”

“Yes”

“Wasn’t Avatar this movie with blue people? I don’t think they said that there”

M’gann wasn’t quite sure why human members seemed to be appalled by the question.

“We’re going to fix that later-”

“What exactly is there to be fixed, because I feel like we’re talking about to different things”

“- but for now can we go back to the whole ‘ghosts have no rights in Illinois’ thing” Robin continued, completely ignoring Conner’s questions.

“Illinois, Wisconsin and Ohio. There are portals to the Zone in two of these states. GIW already tried to send nuke through one of them”

“How Americana of them,” Kaldur muttered.

“If you have another insane tidbit about them, please share it all now. My mind can’t utilize any more revelations like that”

“I handled it, don’t worry”

“Someone tried to nuke literal Afterlife…”

“Yup, get on the schedule Kid Flash. You’re supposed to be fast”

M’gann knocked her arm into his, kinda as a ‘don’t be mean’ message. Danny kinda tensed, but soon relaxed back and moved his head as if he wanted to lay it on her shoulder. Excitement of the day was clearly catching up to him.

M’gann wouldn’t be mad if he did laid his head there.

“Why do we learn about it just now?”

“I wrote the report, not my fault you haven’t read it”

“Can’t fault us for assuming we’d know every important thing from your endless bitching!”

Danny straightened and laughed, in this horrible humorless way that made M’gann want to claw at her brain until she couldn’t hear or sense any of it.

Instead, she brought her other hand up and just held him tighter.

Thankfully the whole spectacle didn’t last long.

“It’s cute that you think I bitch about anything important”

“Phantom…”

“Don’t Phantom me right now. Even if by some miracle they managed to send the missile to the Zone, it most likely wouldn’t have worked. They’re mostly just a joke.”

“They managed to shot you. Right upper arm or shoulder”

“Don’t deny it, we’ve seen you wince when I leaned on you and when M’gann hugged you”

Martian tried to let go hearing that, but Danny held her in place. She stayed where she was but carefully moved her hand away from the slightly damp area on his shirt. She suddenly caught on everything that was wrong with him, now that she knew to look for it.

“I got worse from the hand of my house’s security system”

“You… understand that it’s… like… way worse, right?”

“You don’t know life until you hear threats of dissection against your alter ego after stopping death ray with bowl of cereal,” he said, relaxing more into her side again. He sounded absolutely exhausted.

“Do you want to move in here? Until we deal with this whole GIW and assorted mess?” she said instead. Conner nodded, surprisingly eager to share the space that he considered somewhat sacred.

“Nope, I’m good, I’m needed there”

“You could Zeta- yeah, no, nevermind, it wasn’t good idea. But we could make it work”

“You still should-”

“It’s fine. I mean, I have it handled and it doesn’t affect that many people. And we’re working on it. It’s fine”

“It really is not,” Conner growled.

“You need your arm patched up” M’gann demanded, ignoring previous conversation, with eyes still fixed on the blood that stained her forearm. She should’ve destroyed at least Operative K.

“I bandaged it up”

“It soaked through then. Let’s go to med–”

Loud shrill interrupted her, because of course it did.

“Oh, look, convenient distraction! Let’s take the cookies out before they get burned!”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” M’gann stated in a way that allowed no argument “You’re getting away for now only because I’m holding most of your weight right now”

“Sure we will. And I can stand on my own, thank you very much”

“I’ve heard many lies today and this might be the worst of them. We’re going to Medbay as soon as the cookies are out”

“You’ve got it boss”

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #it's been a while huh?#ALMOST HALF A YEAR?!#the funniest thing is I had this part written when I posted the first one I just wante one more as a back up #and then I rewrote this like three times insteas because I felt like it was getting too serious too fast #i wanted to keep the 'crack treated almost seriously' vibes for a little longer but they just didn't want to be kept #part after that is in theory written but now too has to be heavily rewritten #anyway on more plot related topics #as you can see #I made up an international document #during my studies I brushed against an international law mostly focused on human rights so while I wouldn't call it an expretise I know smt #I believe UN in DC universe would make a document that includes all non-human people runing around and the easiest way I found was #to make an Optional Protocol to the “International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights” that Conner mentioned #this is first of two convenants and it's basicly “people deserve to not be killed or tortured and believe what they want” document #the second one is “International Convenant on Economic Social and Cultural right”; basically “people deserve fair pay healthcare and school #I think the optional protocol would be #non-human being who [insert criteria that would be wide enough but also exculde Krypto for example]#also have these rights #I can try explaining it more in depth if someone asks #i know there is a difference between ratifying and signing an international treaty #but i barely understand how it works in Polish law so im not trying to figure out US one #its whole other law system (Poland uses continental law while US uses common law I can explain the difference if someone asks)#anyway #(almost) New Years fic special #part two of five #wandixx writes #giw made a lot of mistakes

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