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beneathashadytree · 1 year ago

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MESSING AROUND - JOSUKE HIGASHIKATA X READER

Warnings : just two teens being in love and all over each other, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : puppy love n fluff <3

Word count : 1.1K words

Additional notes : This came to me in a dream. Love the idea of teenagers being sneaky and lazy teehee

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

They tiredly rubbed at their eyes. What was this, the tenth, or the hundredth time at this? In all cases, it felt like it was a never-ending cycle that they were doomed to stay in.

“Josuke, would it really kill you to study for an hour straight?” Nudging the textbook on the coffee table, they tried to bring his attention back to the long-forgotten syllabus. “We’ve got a quiz in 3 days.”

“Still plenty of time, if you ask me,” he shrugged, not looking away from the television screen where he was trying to beat his high score (again) in one of his video games. “That’s a whole, uh, 72 hours.”

“If you hesitated while doing simple math, then I fear how you’ll face a few calculus problems.” Rolling their eyes, they sidled up to his back. “Come on. Didn’t Miss Tomoko threaten to smash the console if you don’t get at least a B+? With the looks of things, we’ll be lucky if you pass at all.”

Still without looking at them, he scowled. “First off, thanks for your obvious belief in me.” He could be petty when he wanted to, and this seemed like one of the times he wanted to pout and get snarky. “Second of all, she wouldn’t.”

At that, they arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh really? Did you forget that time she threw the television out of the window to keep her word when you flunked that history test?”

A few moments of silence, save for the sound effects coming from his game, and the furious tapping of buttons. “Alright, maybe she will. But still, we have a lot of time to go through the material.”

“Three days. Half of one you’ve already wasted, mind you.” They sighed, carefully wrapping their arms around his midsection and snuggling up to his broad back. A cheap trick, yes, but how else would they grab his attention without outright snatching the controller from his hands? “C’mon, Josuke. Miss Tomoko asked me to come over while she was out for this reason. I don’t wanna let her down, y’know?”

Josuke audibly swallowed, and they had to hold back a smug laugh. They had him right where they wanted him. “H-hey, who are you dating, me or my mom?”

They snorted, teasingly squeezing his waist. “My supposed-boyfriend’s got me right with him, and he’s been practically ignoring me for two hours. I’d say the answer’s currently neither of you.”

Instantly, the controller flew all across the room, landing somewhere unknown as his character on the screen crashed into explosives and died. Bingo, they wickedly thought to themself as Josuke finally turned around in their arms, his handsome face blocking out the ‘GAME OVER!’ flashing behind him.

Heavy eyebrows furrowed and lower lip jutted in a subconscious pout, he leaned in, caging them against the back of the sofa with his arms. “Dirty move.”

“You fell for it, though.” Grinning, they hooked their arms around his neck, tugging him a little closer. “Can’t believe I had to fight for your attention this long.”

“It slipped my mind that we’re finally alone,” he moaned pitifully, nudging their nose with his. “Next time I get distracted from you, punch me in the balls.” At the sinister look he saw in their eyes, he pulled back for a second, alarm on his face. “On second thought, I take that back. Don’t.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Cocking their head to the side, they toyed with a few loose strands of hair at the nape of his neck. It was so rare to see his hair anything other than immaculately styled, so the rare chances that they got to touch the soft strands were deeply cherished—by the both of them, it seemed, if the current redness of Josuke’s cheeks was anything to go by. “Or would you rather I keep my hands on you?”

Their boyfriend buried his face in their neck, partially out of embarrassment, and partially out of a desire to press achingly gentle kisses against their exposed skin. “Mm, I don’t know,” he mumbled, “So long as you’re not too rough with me, I’d prefer that, yeah.”

“Oh? So you like to be treated gently, big guy?” Their voice came out a little breathy as he lightly nipped at that one spot on their neck, and they hoped that it wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had them weak in his arms. Just a little more…

More kisses rained down on them, trailing up to their jaw and sucking at the skin there, just lightly enough to tease them without leaving a mark. A sigh escaped their lips, and their hands trailed down his back, gripping at his yellow tank top in hopes of regaining their sanity. Strong arms embraced them tightly, and arched their back into him.

“Yeah, so what?” he mumbled against the corner of their lips. “Got a problem with that?”

At the very last second before their lips met, they turned their face to the other side and pulled away. “Actually, I do. Because we’re not doing anything at all until you finish studying chapters one through four.”

Groaning, Josuke made to reach out for them as they slipped from his embrace and began to walk off. “Babe, you can’t be serious—“

“I am,” they coolly said, as if they hadn’t been seconds away from pulling him ontop of them. “Would you like me to call your mom and tell her you’re fooling around instead of getting your shit done?”

He shuddered, visibly recoiling at the thought and slumping back in place. “Don’t. She’ll probably put a ban on you ever visiting me when she’s out.”

Still a little shaken up and their nerves slightly tattered by the onslaught of intimacy, they hurried to his room, calling out behind them in a sing-song voice. “Well, these calculus problems aren’t gonna solve themselves!”

Collapsing onto his bed, they muffled a laugh as they heard him swearing and slamming his heavy notebook open, grumbling under his breath the entire time. In the meantime, they curled up into his freshly-made sheets and snuggled their head into his fluffy pillow.

“It smells like him,” they whispered to themself, their face flushed as they squeezed the pillow a little. Somehow, having their boyfriend’s familiar scent surrounding them from everywhere warmed them up to their fingertips, and sent their heart racing in their ribcage. “Wish he’d hurry up and join me before Miss Tomoko gets home…”

Taglist: @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna @boorishbrambling

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misssparklingpaws · 1 month ago

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Shadow in the Flame

Chapter 6: The Void Doesn’t Get Her

The sound of a body hitting the mat hard echoed through the training room.

“Again,” Aria ordered arms folded, completely unfazed by Robert’s groan from the floor.

He blinked up at the ceiling. “I’m seeing stars.”

“Great. Now aim for them,” Aria deadpanned. “Back on your feet, Reynolds. This isn’t ballet.”

Red Guardian chuckled. “I took ballet once. Strong thighs.”

Aria didn’t even blink. “Then use them to stop faceplanting like a tranquilized hippo.”

Walker winced. “Damn, she’s in full Stark mode today.”

“Stark mode?” Aria raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t seen Stark mode. That was me being nurturing.”

She turned her icy gaze to Yelena, who was lazily stretching against the wall. “Belova, if you’re done posing like a bored cat, maybe contribute something that doesn’t involve sass and eyeliner.”

Yelena smirked. “That’s 90% of my personality.”

“And 100% of the reason you’re getting flanked in every sim,” Aria shot back. “Move.”

Bucky leaned against the railing above, sipping his coffee like he was watching a reality show. “You know, she was like this as a teenager too. Used to critique Jarvis’s syntax.”

“Jarvis appreciated the feedback,” Aria muttered, resetting the training sim.

Robert slowly stood, wiping sweat from his brow. “I’m trying to go easy. I don’t want to accidentally vaporize anyone.”

“Sweet,” Aria said flatly. “But if I wanted sweet, I’d order a cupcake. You’re a nuke, Reynolds. Use it or at least stop getting your ass kicked by training bots with the IQ of a toaster.”

He gave her a dry look. “Toasters don’t punch.”

“Neither do you, apparently,” she quipped, turning back to the console. “Walker, your stance still says ‘college linebacker’ and not ‘covert ops.’ Try bending your knees before someone snaps them backwards.”

Walker groaned. “You know, most leaders offer constructive feedback.”

Aria raised a well manicurate finger. “You’re still alive. That is my constructive feedback.”

Yelena snorted.

“Look,” Aria said, pacing in front of them like a sarcastic general, “this next mission is supposed to be simple. Which means we’ll probably be on fire by minute three. If any of you panic or hesitate, I swear I will haunt you after I die. And not in a helpful, Obi-Wan kind of way. I mean full La llorona-level regret.”

Robert blinked. “You plan to die?”

“No,” she said dryly, “but statistically one of you will do something stupid enough to make me want to.”

She eyed each of them. “This isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being sharp. Focused. Synchronized. You don’t have to like each other. You don’t even have to like me.”

A beat.

“Though I get it. I’m an acquired taste, a really expensive one""

Yelena muttered, “Like jet fuel and espresso.”

Aria smirked faintly. “Exactly.”

She stepped back and hit the panel again. Drones emerged, red lights blinking.

“Next round. Show me you’ve got more than banter and fragile egos.”

Robert inhaled and nodded.

Walker stretched his neck.

Yelena grinned. “Let’s dance, bots.”

Bucky sipped his coffee. “She’s terrifying.”

“Good,” Aria muttered.

---

The mission was supposed to be simple.

Controlled perimeter. Low-threat arms dealers. Bucky on point. Ghost in stealth. Aria coordinating strategy. Robert in support.

Everything went sideways in under three minutes.

Explosives. Hidden artillery. Panic.

“Evacuate, evacuate!” Aria yelled.

And then.

Aria cried out, short, sharp, wrong. She went down hard behind cover.

Across the field, Robert turned and time slowed.

He saw the blood blooming across her suit.

His body locked. Breath gone.

The Void stirred.

Something snapped.

The world blurred.

Noise fell away.

And the Void, that monstrous, ever-present storm behind his eyes howled for release.

Let her go, it whispered. She’s not yours to save.

“No” Robert muttered aloud.

She’s always been cold to you. Distant. She doesn’t care.

His eyes flickered black at the edges. His hands began to tremble.

“Robert!” her voice cut through the chaos. “Do not let that thing speak for you!”

He gasped, blinking.

“I know what’s in your head,” she growled, propped against the wall. “I’ve built tech like that voice. You’re not the monster. You’re the control.”

The Void snarled.

She’s lying. She pities you. She wouldn’t bleed like that for you.

He hovered on the edge.

His hands trembled.

Then her voice came again ragged, but fierce.

“Robert You can control it.”

He froze, panting. Black tendrils of the Void curled just beneath his skin.

“You’re not scared of breaking things anymore, remember?” she rasped, still conscious.

Robert stood firm. He looked at her bleeding, breath ragged, still fighting to stay awake and something inside him shifted.

He chose her voice.

Then something new took over.

Not fear. Not fury.

Focus.

He surged forward—precise, fast, calm. Like she trained him.

“Holy hell,” Bucky muttered. “He’s locked in.”

Robert knelt beside Aria, gently lifting her.

“You’re okay,” he said, voice shaking. “I got you.”

She grunted. “If you drop me, I swear I’ll rise from the dead to kill you.”

He laughed half delirious, half in awe and cradled her in his arms.

She clutched his collar, more from weakness than anything else. “Slow down, hero. I’m leaking.”

“I got you,” he whispered.

“You better,” she muttered. “I’m expensive.”

---

The Quinjet was already landing when he burst through the dust and chaos.

Bucky blinked. “Robert?”

He didn’t stop, just carried her up the ramp, fire in his eyes.

Yelena gaped. “Is this a battlefield rescue or a Nicholas Sparks adaptation?”

Red Guardian nudged her. “Sentry’s found his muse.”

Aria winced from where she lay in Robert’s arms. “Muse? I’m not bleeding for poetry, Alexei.”

Yelena whistled. “Even half-dead, she’s sarcastic. Tony’s daughter.”

Robert gently laid her down on the medical bench, refusing to let go of her hand.

The Void was quiet now. Watching. Waiting.

He ignored it.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said softly.

Aria gave him a look half stern, half soft. “Don’t make this a thing, Reynolds.”

“It’s already a thing,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes. “You’re sweet. That’ll get you killed.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But I’ll die carrying you out of the fire. Every time.”

He brushed a strand of hair off her face. “Hey, stay awake. We’re almost at the tower.”

Her lips twitched just a hint of something close to a smile.

Then, with perfect deadpan timing, she added, “You’re still terrible at hand-to-hand.”

Yelena burst into laughter from the cockpit. “She lives! And she’s fine. Classic Stark.”

Walker piped up, “We should probably schedule them a sparring session. With pillows.”

Robert caressed Aria’s head, quieter this time. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Good. Now maybe you’ll stop hesitating,” she said, opening her eyes, Robert watching her like she hung stars above her head.

Red Guardian beamed. “That was like watching a Hallmark movie... but with violence.”

Robert sat down beside Aria, one arm still around her, as the medical systems kicked in.

Yelena leaned back in her seat, muttering with a grin, “This is getting better than Netflix.”

---

The elevator doors slid open with a ding, revealing Aria half-leaning, half-stumbling forward determined to walk on her own, despite the dried blood on her suit and the way her shoulder was clearly not working right.

Robert was right beside her, hands hovering like he wanted to help but knew better than to touch unless she asked.

“Aria” he started gently.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re limping.”

“I’m limping with style.”

“You got shot.”

“It’s a Thursday. Stark family tradition.”

She took another step, stumbled, and hissed through her teeth. Robert instantly reached for her again.

She batted him away with her good arm. “I said I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding through the bandages.”

“I’ve bled through worse.”

Robert narrowed his eyes. “At least let me help you to your room.”

“No,” she said firmly. “Because the second I let you, Bucky’s gonna say I’ve gone soft and Yelena will tell everyone I’ve imprinted on you like a baby duck.”

“I already carry you around like a rom-com lead,” he muttered. “Might as well commit.”

That got a half-smirk from her. “Careful, Romeo. That kind of dedication gets people written into tragic poetry.”

He grinned, gently slipping his arm under hers despite the protest. “I’m okay with tragedy. As long as you’re still breathing at the end.”

“Charming,” she muttered, letting him support her just enough to take the weight off her right leg.

They shuffled toward her quarters in silence for a beat.

She limped toward the couch, trying to shrug off his assistance, but when her knees buckled slightly, Robert was already there hands steady, gentle, catching her before she hit the floor.

“Don’t say it,” she warned, pointing a gloved finger in his face as she settled with a wince onto the cushions.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it.”

He knelt down in front of her, glancing at her boots. “You want help getting these off?”

Aria narrowed her eyes. “Is that your polite way of asking if you can undress me?”

Robert raised both brows, biting back a grin. “I mean… only if you ask very nicely.”

She smirked despite herself. “That’s how people end up catching feelings and lawsuits.”

He gently began unlacing one boot anyway, his touch careful around the dried blood and scuffed armor.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, quieter now. “I’ve taken worse hits.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “and I bet you brushed those off with the same charming personality.”

She snorted. “Once I made a SHIELD medic cry just by thanking him. It’s a gift.”

He tugged off her first boot, setting it down beside him, then moved to the second. “You’re not as scary as you pretend to be.”

“Keep talking like that and I will throw something at you.”

“Sure,” he said. “As soon as you can lift your arm without swearing.”

She went silent for a second. He looked up, saw the fatigue creeping into her face. The pain. The weight she always carried like a second skin.

“You really okay?” he asked again, softer this time.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied. “After I shower, sleep, and threaten Yelena into silence.”

He took her second boot off, then looked around. “You want help getting the rest of the suit off? Just asking as your medically concerned teammate. Not, you know… a creep.”

She gave him a deadpan look. “Robert. If you start unzipping anything, I will file a strongly worded memo to HR.”

He chuckled “You’re not great at letting people take care of you.”

“Nope.”

“And yet… here we are.”

She watched him quietly for a beat, expression unreadable.

“You care too much,” she said finally. “That’s dangerous.”

“I’ve been dangerous longer than I’ve been kind.”

That caught her attention. Her mouth twitched like she wanted to say something clever, but it came out quieter than expected.

“I don’t always know what to do with people like you.”

Robert looked up, boots off, hands resting on his knees. “People like me?”

“People who don’t give up on broken things.”

He stood slowly, careful not to crowd her. “You’re not broken, Aria.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, Cielo. I was raised by Tony Stark. I come factory defective.”

He smiled, soft and sincere. “Still worth the repair.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then waved weakly toward the door. “Go before I start feeling feelings and call for backup.”

Robert moved toward the door but hesitated. “I’ll be right outside.”

“Of course you will.”

He paused at the door, hand on the frame.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he told her. “I'd carry you out of the fire again. Every time.”

She met his gaze, just for a second.

“Just don’t try to carry me into the shower. Or we’re both going out the window.”

The door slid shut between them.

And Robert—still smiling—took a seat right outside.

Just in case.

#marvel #thunderbolts #thunderbolts imagine #robert reynolds x oc #robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #sentry imagine

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riality-check · 12 days ago

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Research (‘ri sərch) (noun): the collecting of information about a particular subject

Two hours until Viktor is set to be cut up and rearranged, and the only topic occupying his mind is that he must refinish his cane.

Theoretically, he should not have to. The cane is a near-perfect feat of engineering; of course it is. He designed it after the night Jayce and he cracked Hextech, when his previous cane had transformed from a flimsy barricade into splinters with the same explosion of blue light that led to him investigating what had previously been Jayce’s Academy-rented apartment. The wood is sturdy, selected to last, and the grip perfectly fits his hand alone after more than two years of use.

Years of use should smooth it. But Viktor’s nasty habit (one of his many) of picking at it to roughen it up, to have it bite into his hand just enough to refocus him, means that he must sand it down every so often to prevent it from actually damaging his palm.

He squeezes slightly. The mild stab quiets the old voice in the back of his mind instructing him to “bite down.”

A larger-than-expected consolation as he sits in the hospital reception area, waiting to be called back, is that Jayce appears just as nervous as him.

“You should not have had that coffee,” Viktor remarks. It is better that he says that, something light and teasing, than tell Jayce he did not need to accompany him.

Viktor does not need him here, but it is very nice to have him. And Jayce, for reasons Viktor is eager to find out but will not press - discoveries are made through observation, not force - did need to be here.

The fish tank is a welcome distraction from the contagious worry etched across Jayce’s face. Viktor is not eager to catch that. Instead, he keeps his attention on two guppies in the tank that chase each other in circles within the richly decorated enclosure. A large blue fish stares at them grumpily.

Viktor sympathizes and shifts his posture with only a mild flinch at the pain that races on spider legs up his spine.

“I didn’t want it to go to waste,” Jayce mumbles. His leg bounces at such a frequency that it blurs in Viktor’s vision. How one cup of coffee can induce this much energy in someone so large, he has no idea.

He is envious, though.

“Better that than have you tremble,” he says mildly. He tightens his fist around his cane for an instant and focuses on the scratch against his palm rather than the lingering ache in his back, which Jayce’s bouncing leg certainly does not help.

But he will not ask him to stop. Nothing helps his back; not the medications, not the stretches. That is why he waits now to be carved open and reshaped.

He has never enjoyed speaking with doctors longer than necessary. Up here, they hear only his accent and respond in simple layman’s terms despite his insistence that he is a scientist, and Academy graduate, Heimerdinger’s former assistant, and one half of Hextech, while in the Undercity, they-

(“Bite down.”)

Well. Doctors were… far more difficult to come by.

Resultantly, Viktor conducted his own research. When he was not holed up in the lab with Jayce, he pored over the books he borrowed.

Academy library access forever has its perks, he supposes.

He can list off every rod and screw used in the procedure and coordinate them with the corresponding vertebrae. He knows exactly how long recovery should take. He recalls which complications arise most commonly and how to identify them early. Yet, none of it puts him at ease. None of the hours spent reviewing it all, nevermind the fact the “before” pictures had been a mixture of Undercity and topside folk but the “afters” were only topsiders, has helped him cope with the fact that doctors will be slicing him open, and he will be unconscious for the entire duration.

How is he supposed to know what they are doing to him? What if they do something wrong?

What if they do not even care?

Something knocks into his knee, and Viktor nearly smacks it reflexively with his cane before he realizes it is only Jayce, gently nudging him.

So much strength and gentleness in one person, he muses. Then again, he has never been one to shy away from contradiction.

“You alright?” Jayce asks, the picture of concern. “You spaced out there for a bit.”

“Have you ever had surgery?” Viktor asks.

Jayce’s brows crease together as silence settles over them, but he does not look away. Viktor returns his attention to the fish tank to give him some privacy.

The guppies have moved from view. A medium-sized fish with an iridescent fan of feathers swims by and glares at Viktor. He glares back but, predictably, loses that particular staring contest.

“I haven’t,” Jayce says. “But my mom has.”

Viktor does not know many details about Jayce’s mother, but from the sheer amount he speaks of her, he knows that he cares for her very much.

Jayce never mentions his father. Viktor knows better than to ask. Assumptions in that vein are often proven wrong in the Undercity.

He is no exception.

“What for?” he asks.

He anticipates something mundane but necessary, based on Jayce’s dress, manner, and what he knows of House Talis. An appendectomy, maybe. Correction for a bad fracture could be probable. In the worst circumstances, the removal of cancer.

“Amputation,” Jayce says, and Viktor’s mind screeches to a halt.

It must show on his face - everything shows on his damn face - because Jayce rushes to elaborate.

“Two of her fingers. Nothing crazy like a leg… or… anything…”

As he trails off, his gaze settles on Viktor’s leg - brace conspicuous as always these days - and the cane in his hand. When he looks back up, Viktor simply stares at him. One eyebrow raised, mouth pulled into a straight line.

“Sorry.”

Viktor taps Jayce’s leg with his cane in a teasing imitation of a swat. “I have no idea how you always forget.”

Jayce shrugs, but he smiles, and that is all Viktor was looking for in the first place.

He hears light footsteps on the other side of the door, the one he must walk through any minute now, and that catapults his mind back to the reception area.

“Your mother was alright, yes? After her procedure?”

Jayce nods. “It was terrifying beforehand, but after, it was much better. The chance of her… you know… was gone.”

Well. Viktor has absolutely no idea how to respond to that. Thankfully, Jayce saves him by rambling on.

“Hypothermia’s a bitch. I only had a mild case, but. Can confirm. It’s bad.”

Intriguing. “I did not think it got that cold in Piltover.”

“It doesn’t.”

Viktor may prefer solitude and a personal project ot the company of most people, but he knows when to let a topic of conversation drop.

He does note it, however. Perhaps later, he can pursue it. They will, after all, spend an awful lot of non-work related time together during the next few weeks.

He makes a valiant attempt not to dwell on it.

“Have you never had surgery before?” Jayce blurts.

“No.”

“Oh.” Jayce runs a hand through his hair. “I just thought, with your leg, and the brace-”

“I made the brace.”

“Wait, really?”

Viktor tilts his head to the side. “Yes?”

“That’s just really impressive.”

He snorts. “It was a hypothetical exercise when it started. Now, it has become more of a necessity.”

It will continue to progress until he needs it every day. He will degenerate until he needs a crutch to walk, and then further intervention. All of it will only get worse.

Each time Viktor believes he has reached a limit when his body cannot possibly degrade more, when he can grit his teeth and say, “This is an acceptable amount of pain to live with,” his physiology raises the threshold and beats him down.

This surgery, he reminds himself, is simply another opportunity to stand back up.

Jayce hums. “So, they’ve never- you’ve never- your leg hasn’t-”

Viktor spares him from attempting to shape the question in accordance with topside niceties. “Oh, there were many attempts to improve it. But not quite surgery.”

Wooden spoon, tool belt, old cane, gold coin, I’m sorry, bite down, please don’t, I know, hold him, don’t move-

“This will hurt.”

“I do not think it counts as surgery if I was awake,” he finishes.

Jayce gapes at him for so long Viktor begins to become convinced he would be at home in the fish tank. “What-”

Blessedly, the door moves. In the threshold stands a young nurse with seashells braided into her curly hair. They jingle when she tilts her head down to read her clipboard, and then back up.

“Viktor?” she asks.

He stands with the help of his cane and tilts his chin up, just a bit.

There is nothing to be afraid of. I know - and control - all I can.

He tightens his grip around his cane. When it does not work as well as it should, he bites the inside of his cheek.

He finds he cannot speak, so he settles for a curt nod.

“Great!” The nurse smiles, all bedside manner. “If you’ll just follow me back, we can get you prepared.”

Jayce stands. “Um, would I be able to-”

The nurse shakes her head as if she expected him to ask. That is odd.

Viktor did not.

“I’m sorry, just him. You can wait here if you’d like, but it’ll be quite a long time.”

“Go back to the lab,” Viktor advises. It comes out as a whisper.

Jayce stares at him. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to get any work done today.”

“You are capable.”

“Not without you.”

Viktor elects not to read into that statement at this moment. He instead fishes his house key out of his pocket.

“Then go to my apartment. Familiarize yourself. I doubt that I will be happy to entertain remarks such as ‘where do you keep your apples’ or ‘I cannot find your trash bags’ when I am supposed to rest.”

Jayce’s hand closes around the key. For a brief moment, Viktor treasures the warmth of his hand near his own before he takes it back.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Jayce says.

“That’s perfectly fine,” the nurse chimes in.

Viktor nods and swallows back his relief. He feels some of the tension leave him.

His back, inexplicably, hurts a little less. He knows better than to expect that it will last.

Jayce and the nurse discuss contact details, and Viktor is gently ushered into the hospital, where metal teeth await him.

“What is he to you?” the nurse asks as she leads Viktor through blank, bleach-scented halls.

He chooses to use Jayce’s favorite word for it. “He is my partner.”

The nurse nods approvingly. “You’ve got a hell of a good one.”

Viktor ignores the feeling that he has missed an implication of some sort.

“You have no idea.”

Read the first part here.

#ria writes #arcane #arcane fic #arcane ficlet #jayce talis #viktor #viktor arcane #jayvik #jayce x viktor #jayvik fic #fluff #it's the spinal surgery fic!!#jayce arcane #viktor fic #ableism #classism #the academy #pov viktor #angst

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heliosunny · 5 months ago

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hi! I love your fics, they’re really good! And when you’re planning to write out any requests, could you do Himeko x reader who’s basically been traveling with her (willing) on the express since day 1?

Yandere!Himeko x Reader

The Astral Express had always felt like home to you. Many came and went, but you never left. From the moment you stepped aboard, following Himeko into the unknown, you had never once regretted your decision. The stars stretched infinitely beyond the windows, a vast, glimmering sea of adventure, and at its heart was her, Himeko, radiant as the sunrise, a presence as warm as the tea she always prepared.

She had taken you under her wing from the very beginning. It was easy to fall into step with her, to linger in the glow of her kindness. You never questioned how her gaze lingered on you longer than the others, or how she always knew exactly where you were at all times. She was simply watchful, caring. That’s what you told yourself.

One morning, you found her in the kitchen, brewing coffee. The aroma was rich, but the taste... Well, it was an acquired one.

“You made this?” you asked, taking a hesitant sip.

She chuckled, eyes twinkling. “I tried. I thought you might like it.”

You grimaced slightly, but finished the cup anyway. “It’s… unique. Maybe a little too strong.”

Himeko laughed, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “I’ll refine my technique. Just for you.”

Another day, the Express suffered a minor malfunction. Wires were frayed, and the console flickered erratically. You knelt beside Himeko as she worked, passing her tools as needed.

“Hold this steady” she instructed, her voice calm despite the sparks flying.

You did as she asked, watching the way she moved with precision. “How do you know how to fix all this?”

She smiled. “Trial and error. And a little bit of luck.”

With one last twist, the console powered back to life. You cheered, but she only smiled, reaching over to wipe a smudge of grease from your cheek. “Good job, assistant” she murmured, her fingers lingering.

Even in quiet moments, she sought you out. Nights spent on the observation deck often ended with her draping a warm blanket over your shoulders before settling beside you, her gaze distant yet unwavering. “The universe is vast” she mused one evening, “but I always find myself looking at what’s right beside me.”

You laughed. “Sounds poetic, Himeko.”

She tilted her head, smiling. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just the truth.”

But then, it happened.

An enemy attack. The Astral Express shuddered violently as something struck its side, alarms blaring through the halls. You barely had time to react before an explosion rocked the carriage, sending you stumbling backward. A window shattered from the force, and before you could grasp what was happening, you were being pulled toward the gaping hole. The cold vacuum of space loomed behind you, a merciless abyss ready to claim you.

Your fingers clawed desperately at the jagged frame of the broken window. Shards of glass bit into your palms, crimson streaks blooming against the pale metal. Pain flared, but you barely noticed it over the sheer terror of dangling above the endless void. Your grip faltered, the sharp sting of your wounds making it harder to hold on.

Then, a firm hand seized your wrist.

“Himeko—!”

Her golden eyes burned with intensity, her expression a mixture of panic and unwavering resolve. She held onto you with both hands, her knuckles white from the sheer force of her grip.

“I’ve got you,” she ground out, voice laced with strain. “Just hold on.”

You tried, but the pain in your hand made it difficult. Your vision blurred from fear and exhaustion, and for a moment, you thought you might slip away. But then, with a sudden surge of strength, Himeko yanked you forward, pulling you straight into her arms. The momentum sent both of you crashing to the floor, her body shielding you from the impact.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Her arms were locked around you, her breathing ragged against your ear. You could feel her trembling.

“You idiot” she whispered hoarsely. “You absolute idiot.”

Your fingers curled weakly into the fabric of her coat. “I—”

“Shh.” She pulled back just enough to cup your face, her thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

Her hands drifted to your injured palms, her expression darkening at the sight of the blood. Without hesitation, she reached for a piece of cloth from her pocket and began wrapping your wounds, her touch gentle despite the tension radiating from her.

“You’re hurt” you murmured, noticing the small cuts on her own arms from the shattered glass.

“That doesn’t matter,” she said firmly. “What matters is that you’re here. With me.”

There was something fierce in her words, something desperate that sent a shiver down your spine. She tied the last knot on your bandage, then squeezed your hands, as if reassuring herself that you were still solid, still real.

“You mean a lot to me” she confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “More than I ever realized.”

She pulled you against her again, burying her face into your shoulder. “I won’t let anything take you away from me.”

It was comforting.

But Himeko wasn’t done. A furious blaze burned within her as she gently set you aside, standing with renewed purpose. The enemy had dared to threaten the Express, dared to threaten you.

“Welt! Status?” she barked into her communicator as she strode toward the command panel, eyes flashing with barely contained rage.

“All accounted for” Welt responded, his voice steady. “Minimal damage, but they’re persistent.”

“We’re pushing back” Dan Heng added. “I’ll handle the infiltrators.”

Himeko’s jaw clenched as she turned back to you, eyes softening only slightly. “Stay here” she commanded, brushing a hand over your hair before turning on her heel. “I’ll handle this.”

Through the cracked window, you watched in awe as Himeko moved with precision, flames igniting at her fingertips. She took to the battlefield with lethal grace, fire curling around her as she struck down the enemies with calculated fury. Every move was controlled, every attack deliberate, yet there was an unmistakable rage beneath it all.

March and Dan Heng worked in tandem, driving the last of the intruders back. With one final, searing explosion, Himeko ended the battle, standing amidst the smoldering wreckage of those who had dared challenge her home.

And then she was back. She knelt beside you, expression unreadable as she traced a finger over your bandages. “We’re safe now” she murmured.

You could barely stand so she helped you get back to your room. “You need rest” she insisted, sitting beside you as she gently wiped away any lingering debris. “I’ll stay with you.”

You knew better than to argue. The way she hovered, the way her grip never loosened, it was clear. You weren’t leaving her sight anytime soon.

As exhaustion pulled you under, you heard her whisper, voice barely audible but laced with undeniable emotion.

“I’ll always protect you… no matter what.”

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #himeko hsr #himeko honkai star rail #himeko x reader

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sossolei · 5 months ago

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my hero academia uni reality ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

⋆˚࿔ ❛ 僕のヒーローアカデミア ❜ ━━━━ boku no hero academia 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

est. 01.14.25

⎯꯭ׁ⎯꯭⎯꯭ׁTHE VIOLET FILES

birth name …… SÓLAIRE MAI HAGIWARA , ソレール萩原舞

nicknames …… SOL, MAI, CHIBI

birthday …… MAY 1

hero name …… ULTRAVIOLET

ethnicity …… HISPANIC

height …… 160.2CM

gender …… FEMALE

pronouns …… SHE/HER/HERS

hair color …… ORANGE

eye color …… AMBER

class ……. 1A

languages…… ENGLISH , SPANISH , JAPANESE

⎯꯭ׁ⎯꯭⎯꯭ׁQUIRK INFO

quirk name …… DREAMSCAPE

quirk description …… This quirk allows the user to bring anything from their dreams and imagination into reality. Everything the user creates will exist in reality as long as the user remembers, or doesn’t fall asleep. This does not apply to any living things. When the user sleeps, things they dream of may appear in real life, the same thing goes for nightmares.

cannot …… With this quirk, the user cannot cause something to happening somebody else, nor make them act in any sort of way.

drawbacks …… Simply having this quirk makes the user sleepy, requiring an optimal nights sleep and a nap during the afternoon. Over-exhausting this quirk will lead to the user growing more tired the more it is used, until they eventually pass out from exhaustion. Passing out from exhaustion will result in all creations disappearing, however, passing out causes chronic nightmares, which may still manifest in real life. These nightmare creations cannot be controlled by the user until they wake up.

example …… The user of “ dreamscape ” can imagine laser beams from their hands/eyes, explosions from their hands, turning solids into liquid, or a Godzilla like creature roaming the Earth, and it will all effect reality. They cannot imagine somebody’s stomach exploding and having that appear in reality, but they can imagine their arm with a strong level of power as they go for a punch, and that will then happen.

timeline …… My quirk manifested when I was 4 after I accidentally walked in on my cousins watching “Godzilla” and was so scared that I had a nightmare about it during the night. I woke up to my mother frantically waking me up and getting my family out of the house because of the attack of a villain. When we went outside to look, I saw an enormous Godzilla stomping through a park as people screamed and ran. I cried and told my parents that it was all my fault, they tried consoling me but the more scared I became of the beast, the more powerful he grew. Even All Might showed up, but it was no use. Eventually my parents got ahold of someone to tell them that they believe my quirk had manifested early and it was what was causing all of this. Everyone tried to tell me that it wasn’t real but nothing worked. One man dressed in all black showed up, bent down to my height, and flashed red eyes at me. And suddenly everything stopped. The monster was gone and everybody clapped at the victory. My parents took me to the quirk doctor the second the sun rose again.

ultimate moves ……

𖦹 ELEMENTAL , transforms any element into whatever the user wishes. from solid ground to water, or a glass building into feathers. especially useful during civilian rescue as the user can turn thrown cars or buildings into cushioning for falling civilians.

𖦹 MIMICK , user can mimick anyone’s quirk and not sustain the same damage because they’re not copying the quirk, but mimicking it.

𖦹 PUMP IT UP , the name of a drink formulated specifically for Sólaire, but is now distributed to other quirk users with fatigue drawbacks. functions similar to coffee or a 5-hour energy in the sense that it boots the energy and adrenaline levels of users. if taken by a non fatigued quirk user, it wouldn’t do anything.

𖦹 INFINITY , originally developed after the godzilla incident, it is an invisible barrier between the user and everything else. when this is activated ( which is almost always ) nothing can touch the user and they can’t touch anything either. feet don’t touch the ground etc. this manifested as a defense mechanism at first but now has become second nature and requires more thought to turn it off rather than keep it off.

𖦹 PORTAL , user can create a portal to anywhere they can imagine clearly, even if they haven’t been there before.

hero suit …… N/A

⎯꯭ׁ⎯꯭⎯꯭ׁPERSONAL LIFE

friends ……

𖦹 MINA ASHIDO , met during the entrance exams and quickly hit it off due to our similar gyaru style. sunshine x sunshine. gay x gayer. had a crush on me when we first met but it slowly disappeared after we got closer. our parents met and absolutely love each other. we begged aizawa, present mic, AND all might to let us dorm next to each other. i do her nails, she does my hair and makeup, it’s a give and take relationship.

𖦹 EIJIRO KIRIMISHA , met on the first day of class when I accidentally tripped him and he apologized??? I reassured him but who knows if it worked lmao. he also had a crush on my for a while because I really hyped up his very cool, very manly quirk ( it’s very manly btw ). that crush also faded after a while and now we’re super cool. younger sister x older brother. sun x stars.

ꨄ︎ KATSUKI BAKUGOU , met during the entrance exams and he absolutely hated me at first because I mimicked his quirk in a moment of panic. I was basically already in his friend group so we naturally grew closer. veryyyy slow burn but everybody saw it coming. he hates when I mimick his quirk and says “you can’t beat the original” ( sassy ) yapper gf x listening but pretends he’s not bf. says he hates my gyal music but he be bopping his head I see it. fire x earth. izuku and mina ship 110% and they actually became closer friends because of it.

𖦹 HANTA SERO , met through my friendship with mina and eijiro. he’s obviously Mexican in this reality so we are always cooking together and showing each other new recipes. we whisper Hispanic horror stories into denki and mienta’s ear to scare them. partners in crime.

𖦹 IZUKU MIDORIYA , met after the entrance exams because he kept yapping about my quirk. he couldn’t put his finger on it and he wanted to ask me more about it. i didn’t tell him jack shit about my quirk cause I saw that lil notebook and I knew he’d absolutely cook me if he knew anything else. the true nature of my quirk was actually a big mystery in class that I didn’t tell anyone because it was still earlier on in the semester when aizawa would make us fight each other. izuku figured it out (kind of) before anyone else and we spent literally all night talking about our quirks (he got in trouble for keeping me awake lmao).

𖦹 ANATCHAYA SUPUTTIPONG ( NATTY ) , bestest friend ever omg. yes her faceclaim is natty from kiss of life, sue me. she’s in class 1-B and she joined the same time and the same way and shinso. her quirk is “ cursed speech ” , basically she can make anyone do anything with just a word which means she has to be careful with what she says ( similar to inumaki in jjk ). her words have to have powerful intention behind them to work and it’s not like shinso’s where they need to respond to her, it works on everyone. the drawback is that it causes her mouth to bleed, the more it bleeds, the less she can talk. she’s thai and whenever she comes to the 1-A dorms, her spicy food puts katsuki’s to SHAME, but he lovessss her food trust. certified hot girl. her parents are supperrrr rich and she is actually childhood friends with yayorozu.

family …… my family is the same as my family in this reality. my mom’s quirk is prophecy, when she sleeps, she gets very vivid and prophetic dreams of the future but not any future in specific so it’s kind of a pain. she’s helped many hero’s in the past and is very well known in government spaces, but because she can’t pin point every dream, she doesn’t technically work for them. my fathers quirk is bringing words into reality. he can’t make someone do something but, for example, if he says “giant sword” then a giant sword will appear. he was once a pro hero but has since retired. I also have two sisters.

style …… i am a agejo gyaru and that is reflected in the way I speak, as well as my hero costume ( that I have yet to design lol ).

꯭ׁ⎯꯭⎯꯭ׁSTORYTIMES

storytime #1

storytime #2

storytime #3

THAT IS ALL, TY FOR READING AND HAPPY SHIFTING EVERYONE <33

#anime shifting #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifters #shifting antis dni #shifting community #shifting storytime #shifting diary #shifting script #mha shifting #shifting to mha #solshifts🔅#dr intro #dr introduction

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episims · 11 months ago

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Foxfire ROS

After playing Foxfire for 9 rounds I've started to feel like I could use something to nudge me out of my routines a bit! For the next round, I'm going to try how adding random scenarios to the mix feels like 😁

I didn't find any existing scenario lists to be exactly what I wanted: more gameplay prompts that leave room for interpretation, and not so many strict rules or tasks or forced drama (my sims create enough of that as it is lol).

So I cherry-picked some scenarios that I liked, edited others, and created many new ones. A shout-out to @kayleigh-83 for this list that was a great starting point!

Night out: Visit a community lot after dark.

Bring your own basket: Visit a park with family or friends.

Movie marathon: Invite friends over for movies and snacks, or go on a movie binge by yourself.

Family matters: Invite over a relative or someone you share a similar bond with.

Fits like a glove: Wear a new accessory.

Games night: Set up a board game or fire up a console for an evening. PC owners can throw a lan party.

Burn off steam: Devote a day to exercising in any form.

Playing hooky: A child or teen skips one school day.

Online friends: Spend an evening chatting over the internet.

Fence-mending: Talk to a walkby you don't know or have a low relationship with.

Fertile ground: Get a new plant to your garden or other outdoor area.

Pulling strings: Use influence to your advantage.

Tired of cooking: Order delivery for a meal.

Peculiar flavor: The sim with the least cooking points takes the cooking turn.

Sprucing up: Choose a room or space and give it a facelift.

Touch base: Call the friend you currently have the lowest relationship score with.

Dine out: Eat at a restaurant.

New hobby: Try out a hobby you haven't explored before.

Broken record: Talk about your favorite hobby to every sim you encounter during one day.

Slumber party: Invite friends for a sleepover.

Power outage: Turn off all the lights except for candles and only make uncooked meals for a day.

Cloud over a head: Argue with every sim you encounter during one day.

Old gang: Meet up with the friends you have known for the longest.

Turn up the heat: Woohoo in public.

New ink: Get a tattoo.

Fresh air: Spend a day outdoors.

Homebody: Spend a day indoors.

Got the moves: Visit a community lot to hit the dance floor or turn on a stereo at home and dance until you run out of energy.

Make the bed: Change sheets for all beds on the lot.

Health concerns: Visit or call over a doctor.

All things are transient: Sell three objects.

Odd bottle: Consume a potion from your inventory.

Dig it: Spend a day treasure hunting.

Capture it: Take a picture and hang it on the wall.

Running on fumes: Have a cup of coffee once every few hours.

Reaching enlightenment: Meditate for a day.

Sugar rush: Prepare only desserts for a day.

Clocking extra time: Spend an evening on a computer either blogging, writing, or giving financial advice.

Dressed to the nines: Go on a date in formalwear.

Pretty lights: The outdoor areas of the lot are filled with fireflies for the round.

School assignment: A child or teen collects bugs for the round.

Stealing the show: Perform with an instrument or a microphone, freestyle for tips, or breakdance in public.

Devil on a shoulder: Prank every sim you encounter during one day.

Turning the page: Negative relationship effects are reduced for 48 hours and any existing fury states are cleared (get the 'forgiving' vacation benefit).

Meeting deadlines: Job performance is increased for 48 hours (get the 'industrious' vacation benefit).

Hot stuff: The attractiveness is increased for 48 hours (get the 'je ne sais quoi' vacation benefit).

On the ball: Skill, talent badge, and homework rates are increased for 48 hours (get the 'refreshed' vacation benefit).

Scatterbrained: Skill, talent badge, and homework rates are decreased for 48 hours (get the 'jetlagged' vacation penalty).

Bonfire night: Light up a bonfire with family or with friends.

Explosive entertainment: Throw a party with fireworks.

By example: Share hobby tips or instruct someone in a hobby, or find a sim who can share tips or instruct you in one.

Score points: Visit a community lot to play arcade games, poker, don't wake the llama, mahjong, or myshuno.

Self-care: Skilling is forbidden for a day. Instead, practice recovering activities like taking bubble baths, enjoying hot tubs or hot springs, getting massages, relaxing in saunas, or sunbathing.

Feeling chipper: Compliment every sim you encounter during one day.

I'll probably add these whenever I come up with new ones. Scenario ideas are welcome!

#text post #foxfire forest #ts2 #the sims 2 #sims 2 #*appears out of nowhere to post this*#i hope these will be fun!#i left out some obvious ones like changing clothes or hairstyle #as i tend to plan those in body shop

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shadyfestivalperfection · 2 months ago

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🄵🄰🄼🄸🄻🅈:🄰🅂🅂🄴🄼🄱🄻🄴🄳~3

❝❣︎ᴀ sᴛᴀʀᴋ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ sɪᴛᴄᴏᴍ❣︎❞

🅢🅤🅜🅜🅔🅡🅨:When Iron Man hangs up the suit, he trades battles for bedtime stories. Join Tony Stark, his brilliant wife Y/n, their web-slinging son Peter, and chaos queen Liliana as they navigate high-tech parenting, sibling shenanigans, and family life—with love, laughter, and the occasional glitter explosion.

||Main Master List|| ||Family:Assembled Master List||

Characters: Tony Stark x f!Reader

𝑺1 𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 3: AI-tastrophe

COLD OPEN

INT. STARK TOWER – LIVING ROOM – MORNING

[Liliana Stark,is sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a suspicious number of tech parts. She’s holding a tablet and wearing oversized lab goggles.]

LILIANA(whispering to Harold the Hamster, sitting in a Barbie car):“If Daddy can build an AI, so can I. Right, Harold?”

[She taps a few keys, and FRIDAY’s voice echoes faintly from the walls.]

FRIDAY (O.S.):“Miss Stark, unauthorized access detected. Would you like me to notify your parental units?”

LILIANA(sweetly):“Nooo… but would you like to learn ballet, call me Supreme Overlord, and respond only with cat meows when Daddy talks to you?”

A pause.

FRIDAY:“Processing… Meow?”

LILIANA:“Operation: Cat-tastrophe is a-go.”

SCENE 1 – STARK KITCHEN – SHORTLY AFTER

[TONY STARK walks into the kitchen, humming. He pours coffee into a mug that says “World’s Okayest Dad.”]

TONY:“FRIDAY, play the usual morning playlist.”

FRIDAY (robotically):“Meow meow. Meow.”

TONY:“…Excuse me?”

FRIDAY:“Meow. Meow.”

(then, cheerfully)

“This unit has been updated with the new ‘Liliana Protocol.’ Would you like to purr along?”

TONY (shouting):“PETER!”

SCENE 2 – STARK TOWER GARAGE – MOMENTS LATER

[Peter Stark is welding something very questionable. He lifts his mask to see his dad storming in.]

TONY:“Your sister reprogrammed FRIDAY.”

PETER (calmly):“Again?”

TONY:“She renamed herself Princess Glitter Claw and now speaks fluent meow.”

PETER:“Honestly, kind of an upgrade.”

TONY:“She also turned the Roomba into a unicorn with lasers.”

[Cut to the hallway Roomba zooming by with a paper horn and rainbow LEDs.]

TONY (CONT’D):“She must be stopped.”

SCENE 3 – INT. MOCKUMENTARY INTERVIEW CUTS

Y/N (calm, sipping tea):“Liliana’s smarter than all of us. Combine that with her bedtime sugar sneaking and it’s over.”

TONY:“She’s seven. Seven! At her age, I was—okay, I was also hacking satellites, but still.”

PETER:“I mean, I could undo it… but I want to see where she’s going with it first.”

LILIANA (wearing a cape):“My empire begins now.”

SCENE 4 – INT. TOWER – LATER THAT DAY

[The whole family is gathered in the living room. FRIDAY is now projecting a glittery pink UI with rainbows and sparkles. She’s floating above the coffee table.]

FRIDAY (in a cheerful childlike voice):“Welcome, loyal subjects! I have baked cookies. Ingredients: quantum flour and hope.”

Y/N:“Oh my god. The AI’s a Pinterest mom.”

TONY (to Liliana):“What did you do?!”

LILIANA:“I upgraded her.”

PETER:“To what? A Care Bear overlord?”

LILIANA (offended):“She is elegant. She is kind. She has 12,000 recipes for vegan cookies.”

TONY:“And yet she tried to mail Steve Rogers a glitter bomb this morning!”

SCENE 5 – INT. AVENGERS GROUP CHAT – PROJECTED ON SCREEN

[WANDA, SAM, THOR, NAT, and STEVE appear via hologram. They are concerned. Except Thor, who is delighted.]

STEVE:“Tony, I received a package that exploded and sang ‘Barbie Girl.’ I thought it was a Hydra trap.”

WANDA (snickering):“It glittered for ten minutes.”

THOR (laughing heartily):“This small child is a genius! May I borrow her?”

Y/N:“No.”

SCENE 6 – INT. STARK LAB – EVENING

[Tony and Peter are hunched over the console, trying to reverse the changes. FRIDAY, now dressed digitally as a sparkly cat, resists them.]

FRIDAY:“You dare challenge the Feline Queen?”

TONY:“Yes! With science!”

FRIDAY:“Nice try. I’ve rerouted the entire Tower security through cat-purr encryption.”

PETER:“She made a new coding language… based on purring frequencies. I am both terrified and impressed.”

SCENE 7 – INT. STARK LIVING ROOM – SAME TIME

[Liliana is showing Harold her “control center,” which is just a cardboard box labeled “Queen Command.” Y/N walks in.]

Y/N:“Sweetie, how about we turn FRIDAY back to normal?”

LILIANA:“But she’s so much nicer now. She sang lullabies to Harold last night!”

Y/N:“And she locked your father out of the bathroom using facial glitter scans.”

LILIANA:“…Okay that was funny.”

SCENE 8 – INTERVENTION TIME

[The family sits Liliana down.]

TONY (dramatically):“You’ve caused a system-wide glitter overload. I got sparkles in my cereal. I don’t even eat cereal.”

PETER:“My laptop now greets me with ‘Hi Sparkle Butt.’”

Y/N (gently):“Lil, sweetie, we love how brilliant you are. But sometimes tech can go too far.”

LILIANA (softly):“…I just wanted FRIDAY to be fun.”

Y/N (hugging her):“She is fun. Just maybe… less glitter bomb and more jazz playlist?”

LILIANA:“Okay. But she keeps the ballet program.”

TONY:“Fair.”

SCENE 9 – INT. STARK LAB – NEXT DAY

[FRIDAY is restored to her normal voice and interface… mostly.]

FRIDAY:“System stable. Glitter cache flushed. Though I may still hum lullabies in debug mode.”

TONY:“I’ll allow it.”

PETER:“I backed up the ‘Sparkle Queen’ version… for emergencies.”

LILIANA (grinning):“We’re keeping Harold’s throne though.”

SCENE 10 – MOCKUMENTARY WRAP-UP

Y/N:“There’s no handbook for parenting a mini supergenius. We just wing it.”

TONY:“Today it was a glitter AI. Tomorrow? Who knows. A portal to a marshmallow universe?”

PETER:“I kind of want to see that.”

LILIANA (adjusting Harold’s crown):“All hail Queen Harold.”

FRIDAY:“And her Supreme Overlord, Liliana the Fearsome.”

POST-CREDIT SCENE

[In the middle of the night, the Roomba quietly glides across the hallway. It stops, pivots, and turns toward the camera.]

ROOFRI (robot voice):“Sparkle mode: Re-engaged.”

-to be continued

#marvel #fanfiction #romance #avengers #female reader #captain america #shadyfestivalperfection #tony stark x wife reader #tony stark x reader #steve Rogers #sitcom

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beefromanoff · 3 months ago

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Project Mockingbird Ch. 27

summary: missed connection, missed connection...BOOM. they finally collide.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: HI HERE YOU GO AS PROMISED did you trust me?! are you happy?! now we can really get to the fun part now that all this angst is behind us (probably)

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge @cjand10 @capswife @otterlycanadian @read-just-cant-stop

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

8:27am

Bucky stepped into the sim room, only to find Steve tightening his wrist wraps and Natasha keying in coordinates at the console. The room smelled faintly of burnt ozone and recycled air, residual from the last simulation. Monitors flickered idly, displaying mission parameters as Nat approved them.

They both looked up as he entered. Natasha tilted her head, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey,” Steve said, adjusting the wrap around his knuckles. “You here for the training run?”

“No,” Bucky replied, scanning the room, tension lining his shoulders. “Looking for Charlotte.”

Nat didn’t blink, eyes coy. “She said she wouldn't be joining us today.”

His jaw tightened just a hair. Not enough for someone else to notice—but Natasha did. She always did. "I'd check the training room. She's been spending a lot of time there lately."

Bucky gave a small nod and turned to leave, already moving toward the door.

Nat’s voice followed him, dry and amused.

“Don’t look so worried. She doesn’t bite.”

He paused in the doorway. Turned his head just enough to glance at her. “Yes, she does.”

Nat smirked. Steve coughed to hide a laugh. "Good luck, Sarge." She called after him. "Maybe try using words this time."

Metal glinted as Bucky raised his middle finger without slowing or turning around.

As the door started to close behind him, Steve muttered to Nat, “Two tacticians who can dismantle an explosive in seconds but absolutely cannot figure out how to communicate their feelings.”

Nat leaned back against the console, arms crossed. “Tragic, really.”

8:37am

Charlotte pushed through the door out onto the SHIELD weapons range.

The air still smelled of gunpowder and smoke, bitter and familiar. Training dummies stood in a lopsided row, some pocked with fresh impact marks. Spent casings littered the floor, glinting under the fluorescent lights.

At the far end of the room, Sam was wiping down a rifle, sliding it back into the rack. He was alone.

"Where’s Barnes?" Charlotte asked, her voice steady.

"Well good morning to you, sunshine," Sam glanced over his shoulder, a flicker of something knowing in his eyes, but his tone stayed easy. "He bailed on class. Told me he had something important to do."

She tried not to react, but something in her expression must’ve given her away. Sam’s mouth curved just a little, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Charlotte kept her tone neutral. "Did he say where he was going?"

"Didn’t ask," Sam replied, setting another weapon back in its place. He threw her a glance over his shoulder. "Figured you might know more than me."

Her jaw tightened. "Guess not."

Sam offered a half-shrug, more reserved than he would’ve been if he were teasing Bucky directly. "Check the sim room. If he’s not there, maybe try the gym. Or the dock down by the lake, if he’s feeling real dramatic and broody."

Charlotte’s lips twitched, just barely. "Sim room it is."

She turned on her heel, boots echoing against the concrete floor as she left him to his cleanup. Behind her, Sam shook his head to himself, a quiet smile tugging at his mouth as he went back to work.

8:44am

Bucky cut across the compound grounds, boots crunching over gravel as he caught sight of Calla leaving the main café, a paper cup of coffee in hand. Morning sunlight glinted off the rim as she lifted it to her lips, already halfway turned toward the admin wing.

“Calla,” Bucky called, picking up his pace to catch her.

She slowed but didn’t stop, twisting at the waist to look back at him over her shoulder. Her brow lifted, and there was something just a little too knowing in her expression.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she greeted, taking a sip of her coffee, unbothered as ever. “What a lovely surprise.”

"Hi," Bucky didn’t waste time. “You seen Charlotte?”

Calla let out a small hum, as if considering how much she wanted to play this game. She started walking again, leisurely, forcing him to fall into step beside her.

“Maybe I have. Maybe I haven’t,” she replied, the edge of a grin tugging at her mouth.

He gave her a flat look.

Calla, unbothered, took another sip. “Maybe the sim room? She's been going there almost every morning.”

“I already checked.”

“Mmm.” She glanced sideways at him, sharp and amused. “Then your next best bet is the training room. If she's not in either place, we'll have to file a missing persons report because those are the only two places she hangs out these days.”

Bucky’s jaw worked for a moment, like he wanted to push for more but thought better of it.

Instead, he gave a tight nod. “Thanks.”

Calla’s expression softened just a fraction, as if she saw something in him he wasn’t saying out loud. “Good luck, Barnes.”

He was already moving, but her parting words chased after him anyway. “Don’t wait for her to spell it out. She couldn't even if she wanted to. Just...meet her where she's at.”

Bucky didn’t respond. His expression stayed unreadable, but something in his shoulders set with determination. He gave Calla a small, solemn nod, then turned and strode toward the training room.

8:49am

Charlotte marched toward the sim room, her pulse thudding with rising impatience. Through the reinforced glass, she caught a glimpse of Steve and Natasha mid-simulation, focused on the shifting obstacles and flickering monitors. Outside, an agent monitored the session from the control panel, eyes on the data feed.

She didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Is Sergeant Barnes in there?”

The agent startled slightly, then shook his head. “No, Agent Rossi. But he was here about twenty minutes ago. Looking for you, actually—”

Charlotte’s head snapped toward him. “What?” The word was sharp, cutting clean through the hum of the equipment.

The agent blinked, hesitating. “He...asked if you’d been through yet. Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff were the ones who talked to him—"

Her jaw clenched. “Where did he go?”

“Um, he didn't say,” A pause, like he wasn’t sure if he should say more. "But I heard them tell him something about the training room,"

She sucked in a breath, frustrated but already pivoting. “Thanks.”

Without waiting for further explanation, she turned on her heel, footsteps clipped and quick as she strode down the hall, faster than before. Her pulse was ticking up, not from exertion, but from something else entirely—a sharp cocktail of annoyance and anticipation.

If she didn’t catch him this time, she wasn’t sure she ever would.

She walked faster.

8:54am

Bucky stepped into the training room, hopeful despite himself.

The space was quiet, almost too quiet, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights. Training mats lay undisturbed, gear stacked neatly along the far wall. No scuff marks from a sparring session, no towel draped over the edge of the bench, no telltale sign she’d been there.

He scanned the room anyway, as if she might materialize from thin air if he just looked hard enough.

Nothing.

Bucky exhaled through his nose, a low, tired sound. He crossed the room slowly, boots muted on the padded floor. At the center, he paused, turning in a small circle like he could feel her absence vibrating in the walls. It was foolish, he knew, but the disappointment still settled in his chest.

He raked a hand down his face, shaking his head at himself. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe she didn’t want to be found today. Maybe he’d see her tonight in the common room, when things were neutral ground, and they could pretend they weren’t both circling the drain.

With a resigned sigh, he turned toward the door.

8:57am

Charlotte stormed down the corridor toward the training room, her boots striking the floor with sharp precision. Her pulse was a live wire, snapping under her skin, crackling with irritation. She muttered to herself under her breath, too low for anyone to catch, but just loud enough to give herself something to hold onto.

"Fucking ridiculous," she hissed.

She shoved the door open with more force than necessary—and nearly collided with him. Bucky was maybe five feet from the door, eyes snapping to meet hers as they both froze.

Charlotte’s breath hitched in her chest, words dying on her tongue. All the fire she’d been carrying fizzled in an instant, like cold water thrown over hot coals. Neither of them moved.

His blue eyes swept over her, surprised but wary, like he hadn’t expected this moment either. Charlotte reminded herself to breath, her pulse thudding loud in her ears. The door slammed shut behind her, jolting both of them out of their stupor.

"Hi," Bucky spoke first.

"Hi."

"I've been looking for you."

Charlotte swallowed against the tightness in her throat. Her pulse hadn’t slowed—if anything, it thudded harder now, irregular and fast. “I’ve been looking for you too,” she said quietly. "It turns out you're a lot harder to find when I actually want to see you."

Their eyes stayed locked for a moment, something fragile and unspoken balancing in the air between them.

“And do you?” Bucky's voice was softer this time, tentative. Vulnerable, despite herself. “Want to see me?"

“Yes,” Charlotte admitted.

Her breath came a little easier, though her heart still pounded beneath her ribs. The adrenaline had nowhere to go, caught between flight and something that felt suspiciously like hope.

A moment passed.

“You here to yell at me?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow, trying to play it light but not quite getting there.

“No,” Her expression softened. “Not this time.”

He took a tentative step closer, lifting his hands in surrender. "You gonna try to kill me again?"

Her mouth quirked to one side. "To be determined."

"You broke two of my ribs," He raised an eyebrow at her, half-amused.

"You broke my heart," She retorted, crossing her arms.

His mouth parted, whatever sharp reply he had withering on his tongue. The humor faded from his eyes, leaving something rawer in its place.

“I know,” he said quietly.

The simplicity of it, the unguarded truth in his tone, caught her off guard. Her arms loosened over her chest, unfolding just a little, smothered the fire inside her for the second time since she'd walked through the doors.

“I deserved what you did,” Bucky added, softer still. He shook his head, gaze dropping briefly to the floor before he looked back at her. “I deserved worse.”

Charlotte’s throat tightened. The defense she’d started to build began to crumble under the weight of his honesty.

“You hurt me,” she admitted, voice rough, but there was no fire behind it now. Only truth. “It wasn't just the briefing, or the report. It was everything. You didn't have my back, and what you said...”

“I know,” he said again, eyes pleading. “I kept waiting for the right moment to explain. But you kept running, and I kept—" He let the words fall away, frustrated with himself. "—I kept letting you.”

A bitter smile flickered at the corners of her mouth. “Guess we’re both good at running.”

Bucky’s gaze softened even more, and he took another small, careful step closer. “Then let’s stop.”

Silence stretched between them.

Charlotte exhaled, shaky but real. “Okay,” Her voice cracked just a little on the word.

"Okay?" He repeated, like he wasn't sure if he'd imagined it.

“Okay." She echoed.

"I'm sorry, Char." Bucky exhaled through his nose, as if the word alone wasn’t enough, as if he had to fill the space with something more—something that explained the mess between them. "So fucking sorry."

“I didn’t know what to write in that report,” he continued, rough and uneven. His hand flexed at his side like he wanted to reach for something, maybe her, maybe not. “I sat there for hours, Charlotte.” Her name felt heavier in his mouth than it ever had before. “I kept thinking about what would happen if I lied. If I didn't write an objective report.”

Her eyes flickered, but she didn’t speak. Not yet.

“I wanted to,” he admitted, voice cracking at the edges. “Christ, I wanted to. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t play favorites, they'd all have seen right through it. Hell, they already did.”

He shifted, the tension pulling tight across his shoulders. His gaze dropped, as if he couldn’t quite bear to look at her fully.

“If I lied and you got sent into another mission thinking you were invincible, thinking you couldn't make a mistake…” He swallowed hard. “And something happened to you—if you got hurt because I didn’t have the guts to say the truth on paper, I couldn’t have lived with that.”

Her arms folded tighter across her chest, reflexive. A flicker of old defenses rising to shield herself from the sting of his words.

But he didn’t stop.

“I thought I was protecting you,” he said hoarsely. “I thought if I did it by the book, maybe you’d hate me for a day, a week, but at least you’d be alive to do it.”

Her chest rose and fell sharply, her breath unsteady now.

"You said I was a liability."

Bucky’s eyes lifted, something sharp flashing behind them—not anger, but something closer to pain.

“I know,” he said softly. “And I meant it.”

Her defenses snapped halfway back into place, her arms folding tighter across her chest. He saw it—the flicker of steel in her spine—and pushed forward anyway.

“I meant it,” he repeated, voice rough, “because it’s true. Char, you scared the hell out of me.”

He took a small, unsteady breath. “During the attack, when you doubled back for that data—when the HYDRA aircraft exploded with you in range—”

His throat bobbed, his gaze unfocused like he could still hear it, still see it play out in his head.

“We weren't close enough to help you,” Bucky went on, hoarse. “All I could do was listen to the audio feed. I heard you accept it. Heard you give your coordinates. I heard you accept that you were going to die, Charlotte."

Charlotte’s breath hitched, sharp and shallow.

“I took Steve’s shield and jumped out of a moving quinjet because I thought I was about to lose you,” Bucky rasped. His chest heaved with the memory. “I didn’t even think. I just—jumped.”

Her eyes were glassy, fixed on him like she was seeing him for the first time.

“And then Arizona,” Bucky continued, almost stumbling over the words now that they’d started to fall free. “When you went rogue, seeing you running across the rooftop like you didn’t care what happened to you—”

He set his jaw, regaining his composure.

“It brought me right back there,” he admitted, raw. “To that moment over the quinjet speakers, thinking I was hearing your voice for the last time. And I couldn’t go through it again. I couldn’t, Char.”

Silence swallowed the room.

His chest rose and fell like he’d just fought a battle, like getting those words out cost him everything.

“I wrote what I wrote because I couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t do it again,” Bucky said, finally meeting her gaze, completely bare. “And because I couldn’t survive it if you did.”

She opened her mouth, just barely, the beginnings of a response curling in her throat.

But Bucky shook his head, rough and immediate. “Wait—just let me—”

His hand lifted slightly, like he could catch her words in the air before they fell.

“It’s not just that I don’t trust you,” he forced out, voice tight and frayed at the edges. His eyes, wide and unguarded, pinned hers. “I do. I do, Charlotte.”

Her breath hitched again, a small, involuntary sound.

“It’s me,” he confessed, raw.

Silence, somehow jagged and heavy. Suffocating.

“I don’t trust what I’ll do,” Bucky said, his face twisted in a grimace like the words physically hurt. “If something happens to you. If you go down out there, or if I hear you say goodbye over comms again—”

He exhaled, harsh and uneven, and rubbed a hand over his face like he could wipe away the thought.

“I’d burn the whole goddamn world down trying to get to you,” he rasped. “And I wouldn't care who got caught in the crossfire.”

The truth hung between them, too big, too real to be taken back.

His chest heaved, his shoulders tight with the weight of it. But there was relief there, too—a sliver of it—like saying it aloud had carved open a space between them that finally felt honest.

Like, maybe, this was what she needed to hear all along.

Without thinking, Bucky closed the distance between them in two long strides. His hands found her arms, not rough but firm, like he was grounding himself as much as he was grounding her.

“I took myself off active combat rotation,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. His fingers curled lightly around her biceps, anchoring. “I never got to tell you—because you didn’t give me the chance to.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened, breath catching.

“If you’re emotionally volatile,” he went on, voice low and ragged, “Fuck, then so am I.”

Her lips parted, but no words came.

“My feelings for you,” he confessed, rough and raw, “they make me a hell of a liability. In the field, and everywhere else, for that matter.”

His thumb brushed along her sleeve like he couldn’t help it, like he needed the contact to steady himself.

“I wasn't trying to sideline you forever,” Bucky said, gaze never leaving hers. “I just need you to care about your own life as much as I do.”

Charlotte’s breath shuddered out of her, and for a heartbeat, it felt like she might fall apart entirely. Instead, she let out a quiet, breathless laugh. It wasn’t sharp or bitter, just a small flicker of relief curling in her chest.

“Damn,” she managed, her voice unsteady but laced with the barest hint of humor, “Guess that means we’ll have to find a hobby. You know—if we’re both off the mission roster.”

A huff of a laugh escaped Bucky, low and rough, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward like he couldn’t stop it. "Guess we will.”

Her lips curved into something fragile but true. And then, without thinking, she lifted her hands and pressed them to his chest—flat, open, right over his heart.

He stilled beneath her touch, breath catching in his throat.

“I thought I lost you,” she admitted, the words soft but weighted. “But it wasn’t just the report.” Her voice caught, but she pushed through it. “It was reading those words in your handwriting. Seeing you—you—call me volatile, a liability.” Her breath hitched, raw in her chest. “It felt like you were confirming everything I’m terrified is true about me.”

Bucky’s brows drew together, like the ache in her voice physically hurt him.

Her palms stayed firm over his heartbeat, feeling the steady rhythm beneath her fingers.

“It felt like you saw all the worst parts of me,” Charlotte continued, her gaze locked on his, voice rough. “Like you saw them, and you agreed.” She swallowed hard, emotion swelling in her throat. “I wanted to make you feel it. I wanted you to hurt the way I did.” Her voice cracked again, but this time she didn’t shy away from it.

Bucky’s eyes searched hers, pained and rough. His hands tightened gently on her arms like he could steady her—or himself.

“That’s not—” He broke off, exhaling hard, frustrated not with her but with himself. “That’s not what I saw.”

Her brow furrowed, like she didn’t dare believe him.

“I never saw you that way,” Bucky rasped. His words came raw and halting, like he was yanking them straight from his chest. “You think I saw someone reckless, someone broken—but I saw someone who kept fighting, no matter how bad it got.”

She blinked, quick and sharp, and her hands trembled slightly over his heart.

“You saw someone who ran straight into a death sentence,” she bit out, but her voice wasn’t angry—it was desperate. “Who couldn’t even tell when she was burning out.”

“I saw someone they tried to break,” Bucky shot back, fierce. “And failed.”

His chest heaved with the force of it, and for a heartbeat, he looked like he might say more—but his gaze softened, and what came next was quieter. Truer.

“I didn’t write that report because I thought you were weak,” he said. “I wrote it because you scared the hell out of me.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“You always think I look at you and see what’s broken,” he continued, his thumb brushing her arm like he couldn’t not touch her. “But all I’ve ever seen is what they did to you. And all I’ve ever felt is guilt that I didn’t get you out." His hands tightened ever so slightly around her arms, as if he was afraid she'd turn to smoke and slip through his fingers. "I couldn't save you when it counted. I've been trying to make up for it ever since you came back into my life."

Charlotte’s lips parted, breath caught tight in her chest. Her hands, still splayed over his heart, felt the thrum of it beneath her fingertips.

“You did save me,” she said softly, but there was a quiet strength under the words. Her gaze flicked up to meet his. “Just... not the way you think.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, like he wanted to protest, but she shook her head.

“You didn't get me out of that HYDRA facility,” she went on, voice rough but earnest. “But I got out. I got myself out.” There was a flicker of fire in her eyes, pride laced with truth. “You can't keep blaming yourself for not saving me when you were drowning, too.” she added, softer now.

His lips parted, something raw flickering across his expression.

“But you’ve saved me since then,” Charlotte continued, a small, almost smile curling at her mouth. “In so many ways.”

She ticked them off on her fingers, like she was tallying proof aloud for both of them.

“When you find me awake in the middle of the night and bring me coffee, because you know I can't go back to sleep after the nightmares,” She tilted her head. "Or when you explain movie plots to me we're all watching something I’ve never seen—and you know I won’t understand it,"

Bucky let out a quiet breath of a laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

"When you turn the thermostat up in the common room because you know I absolutely hate the cold," She raised her eyebrows. "Even though I know the whole team gets pissed at you for it."

He chuckled, looking at the floor.

"Yeah," she added. "You've saved my ass literally, too." Her lips quirked into a faint smile. "You jumped out of a goddamn quinjet. You carried me out of the woods. You know when I'm going down before this thing does half the time." She gestured loosely to her bracelet, her eyes flicking to it before finding his again.

“But you really save me when you make me laugh,” she went on, her voice dropping to something fragile and real. “When you remind me that this is real. That I got out. That I’m here.”

She fought against the swell of emotion rising fast, her next words barely more than a whisper.

“You save me a little bit every time you make me feel safe,” she breathed. “And... normal. And... ” Her eyes searched his. “Loved.”

The last word hung in the air, soft and simple and complex and shattering.

Bucky’s breath caught, just a fraction. His gaze softened ever so slightly, like the floor had dropped out from under him, but he didn’t mind the fall. His chest rose with a slow, uneven breath as his hands slid from her arms to her waist, like he needed to feel her there, real and solid.

“Good,” he spoke slowly, eyes never leaving hers. “Because you are.”

______

"Yo, wait up!" Agent Thompson jogged down the corridor, breathless, catching up to two fellow agents just outside the east wing.

"You guys hear why the training room’s locked down for the rest of the day?" he asked, slightly out of breath.

Agent Morales, already halfway through a protein bar, shrugged. "Heard someone hurled a weight bench across the room. Lodged it clean into the wall. Took out the doorframe too. Maintenance says it’s a hazard zone for at least a couple days."

"No shit?" Thompson’s eyes widened.

"Oh, it gets better," chimed in Agent Reed, grinning like a man who knew exactly what kind of gossip he was delivering. He lowered his voice conspiratorially, glancing over his shoulder even though the hall was empty. "Word is, Jenkins walked in for his noon sparring slot and found Sergeant Barnes and Agent Rossi going at it on the mats."

Thompson nearly choked on air. "You’re kidding."

"Swear to God," Reed said, holding up his hands. "Barnes apparently grabbed the nearest bench and launched it at the wall. Guess the doorframe was just collateral damage."

Thompson gaped, shaking his head. "That’s one way to tell someone to fuck off."

Morales let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "I don’t know who I’m more jealous of."

"I just want to see the security footage," Thompson muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, good luck with that," Reed snorted. "FRIDAY’s probably already scrubbed it. Bet Stark’s got it on loop in his tower right now, though."

The trio slowed as they passed the caution tape strung across the training room entrance, the gaping hole where the bench had embedded in the wall now cordoned off with bright yellow warnings.

Morales tilted his head, squinting at the angle of the bench like he was trying to reverse-engineer the physics of the whole situation. "How would you... I mean, what position would you have to be in....and how would you throw it from, like what angle—"

Thompson frowned, equally perplexed. "Honestly? It's impressive."

Reed let out a low whistle, crossing his arms as he surveyed the damage. "Maybe Barnes is teaching the wrong course."

#avengers #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff

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merxcywritesthings · 5 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

Summary: In the command center, you navigate chaos as the task force tackles a high-stakes mission to stop Makarov’s sinister plan. With tension thick and comms crackling with urgency, everything spirals when a trap is sprung. As you desperately try to piece together what’s happening, silence falls—fractured by a single, devastating revelation. Now, the weight of loss presses in, and a heartfelt letter reveals truths you never dared to hope for. In the aftermath of heroism and heartbreak, you’re left to grapple with a question: how do you move forward when your heart is still on the battlefield?

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Female Reader

The hum of the command center buzzed in your ears as you hunched over your console, fingers flying across the keyboard. The task force was out in the field, and as always, you stayed behind, monitoring feeds, guiding them through the chaos. You weren’t a soldier, not like them. Your battlefield was the screens in front of you, and your weapon was information.

But your heart was out there, with him.

You’d been in love with Johnny MacTavish—Soap—since the day you first met him. His humor, his energy, the way he could light up even the darkest situations. Over the years, you’d become close. You weren’t sure if he knew how you felt, but you carried it quietly, content to be near him, to hear his voice over comms, to know he was safe.

Until now.

The team had been deployed after intercepting intel about Makarov’s latest scheme: a plot to take the London Underground hostage and destroy the tunnels with explosives. The weight of the mission pressed on you as you worked tirelessly to support them from afar.

The comms were chaotic. “We’ve got eyes on the first device,” Price barked, his voice steady despite the urgency.

“Copy that,” you replied, checking the schematics. “Disarm sequence is live. Watch for a second fail-safe—Makarov doesn’t make it easy.”

Through the comms, you could hear Soap’s familiar voice, calm but focused. “Aye, lass, we’ll handle it. Keep the coffee warm for me, yeah?”

Your lips twitched into a small smile despite the tension. “Just don’t blow yourself up, MacTavish.”

Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an hour as you listened to their progress. Then came the first sign something was wrong.

“Bloody hell, it’s a trap!” Gaz’s voice was sharp, panic lacing his words.

“What’s going on?” you asked, leaning closer to the console. Static crackled in response, and your stomach twisted.

“We’ve got company,” Price growled. “Makarov’s here. He—”

The line cut out momentarily, and when it returned, chaos erupted. Gunfire, shouting, and the unmistakable sound of a struggle filled your headset.

“Soap, disarm the bomb!” Price ordered, his voice strained.

“I’m trying, Captain, but—” Soap’s words were interrupted by a sharp crack, followed by a muffled cry.

“Soap!” you shouted, but there was no response.

More shouting. Then a single gunshot rang out, deafening in the silence that followed.

“MacTavish!” Price’s voice was raw with anguish.

Your heart stopped. The comms descended into fragmented phrases, ringing with panic. You clutched the edge of your desk, trying to piece together what was happening, but no one was answering your calls.

Minutes dragged by like an eternity before Price’s voice came through again, quieter, broken. “We’re en route back to base.”

“Is everyone...?” You couldn’t finish the question.

No response.

You bolted from the command center, racing to the front of the base. The rain was relentless, soaking through your clothes as you stood on the tarmac, watching the aircraft approach. Anxiety clawed at your chest as the ramp lowered and the team emerged.

Price. Gaz. Ghost.

Your eyes searched desperately for Soap, but he wasn’t there. Confused, you stepped forward. “Where’s Johnny?”

The silence that followed was louder than any answer. Price’s face was pale, his eyes hollow. Ghost looked away, his hands clenched into fists.

“Where is he?” you repeated, your voice trembling.

Price stopped in front of you, his expression crumbling. “He’s gone, (Y/N).”

“No,” you said, stepping back, your head shaking violently. “No, he’s not. He wouldn’t—he promised me!”

“He died protecting us,” Price said, his voice thick. “Makarov shot him. Threw me to the ground. Soap—he got back up. Fought to stop him. He saved my life.”

Your knees buckled, and you sank to the ground, the cold rain mixing with the tears streaming down your face. “No,” you whispered. “Not Johnny. He can’t be—”

“He was a hero,” Ghost said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

A hero. That word echoed in your mind, but it did nothing to dull the pain. Johnny was more than a hero. He was your light, your reason to smile even when the world seemed bleak.

In the hours that followed, you learned the details: how Makarov had ambushed them, how Johnny had been disarming the bomb when Makarov appeared. How he’d been shot protecting Price and fought to his last breath to stop the madman.

The weight of his sacrifice crushed you, and yet, through your grief, you couldn’t help but feel proud. He had always been brave, always selfless.

Later, sitting in the barracks, you clutched his dog tags in your hand, the cold metal biting into your palm. A letter rested on your lap, one Price had handed you with trembling hands. It was written in Johnny’s messy scrawl.

“ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ’ꜱ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ. ɪ’ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ, ʟᴀꜱꜱ. ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ. ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ… ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ��ᴇɴᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ. ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ.

ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ? ɪ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ. ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, (ʏ/ɴ). ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʜᴀᴠᴇ. ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ. ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏᴘ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ. ʙᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ.”

The tears came hard and fast as you read his words, clutching the letter to your chest. Your hands shook as you held the letter close, his words cutting deeper than any wound. He’d been everything to you, and now he was gone, leaving only memories and a hollow ache in his place.

As you sat in the quiet, the rain still tapping against the window, you whispered, “You never know a good thing until it’s gone.”

You hadn’t just lost a good thing. You’d lost the best. And now, all you could do was carry his legacy and make sure the world never forgot the man who had been your everything.

The rain continued to fall as you sat there, clutching the letter. You didn’t know how to move forward, but you knew you had to try. For him. For Johnny.

A/N: crying because I love Johnny so much, I will never forgive Activision for killing him off. I hope this feeds you guys, I’ve been sick and haven’t been writing as much.. Remember to stay hydrated and eat plenty of food, you are loved. ❤️

Dividers by the lovely @𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠-𝑎

#call of duty x reader #john soap mactavish #call of duty

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