#exit cleaning facilities

[ichorai]

xerox ; robert reynolds ; part two.

part one. | 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 ; 11.8k

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

warnings / includes ; much more intense violence/gore/death than in part one, suicide, self-harm, human experimentation, child abuse, reader has the ability to split into multiple bodies (think dupli-kate from invincible), foul language, mentions of pregnancy, everyone's mental health sucks!

a/n ; the support so far has been so sick guys! thank you so much! i initially wanted to cover all the events of the movie in two parts and move on to avengers tower type of stuff in the next part but i decided this part was already long enough and was itching to post LMAOO regardless, i hope you all enjoy!

main masterlist. read on ao3!

There was rarely a time in your early life when you weren’t being under surveillance. Cameras, everywhere. Nurses making their rounds. Scientists probing you. Surgeons with their hands on you, over you, inside you. 

But once, when you were sixteen, there was a black-out in the facility, which you later learned to be a total power outage through the entire city. No cameras to watch you. The nurses who had been drawing your blood scurried out with owlish eyes, spooked. Moving gingerly, you pulled the needle out of your arm, bandaged it with the gauze on the medical cart, and glanced out of your barred window. The past few weeks, the scientists had been trying to use your DNA to perfect biological cloning technology. As revolutionary as it sounded, you really didn’t like the idea of someone having to live your reality, death and pain constantly hovering over your shoulder.

For a few minutes, however, you got to be alone with yourself. Nothing but you and your own thoughts. You began to shake, but you didn’t register it. The only thing you clearly remembered was the scalpel on the medical cart. A pale silver, but reflecting the hazy green of the emergency exit signs from outside your cell. You’d always thought the sign taunted you. Exit here, just in case you have to, even though you can’t.

The blade was cold in your touch, cutting the warmth of your skin. 

You watched the blood drip down the first arm, and then sliced through the next. It hurt, of course it did. But then it wouldn’t hurt anymore, and it would all be over. 

Your shaking had intensified so much that the bed frame rattled like bones. Then, you began to split. Whether it was subconscious or your body’s natural, instinctive reaction, you weren’t sure. You sobbed, a mangled noise caught in the back of your throat, trying to merge back together. But this had never occurred before—you had never tried to stop yourself from duplicating. Typically when you split, you carried forth the same wounds as the original, but that wasn’t the case this time. 

It was as if your body had stored a clean, woundless back-up in case of a singular copy’s dire emergencies. You still felt it—the throbbing, searing pain on your arms—but no signs of the gash on you at all. You were wiped clean from your choice. A fresh restart. 

That was the first time you had to watch yourself die by your own hand. You tried to give your copy some sense of comfort during the last few moments, but it felt futile knowing you craved the very same thing. You never tried committing suicide again. Mostly because, well, you were a walking paradox. Unkillable, yet you’ve died a thousand and one deaths.

And so—when you watched Valentina’s cavalry pierce poor, innocent Bob with round after round of bullets, a guilty, nasty part of you thought about how lucky he was to be able to die so quickly. Of course, you felt terrible as soon as the thought entered your mind. You rather liked Bob and his warbly doe eyes, his skittish but considerate demeanor, and his eagerness to help. It was an awful shame you didn’t get to know him better. You were still reeling over seeing him in your nightmare—was that your mind playing cruel tricks on you or was Bob less innocent than he came off to be? 

His sacrifice certainly wasn’t going to be in vain. Walker had begun to drive the truck out of the compound down winding, sandy paths. 

Except—it seemed Bob was a lot more similar to you than you thought. When someone shot you down, another cropped right back up. Bob, to your relief and utter confusion, did just the same.

The streaking figure across the sky was no star. It was flailing about amongst the grey clouds and bore the pale, baggy silhouette of hospital clothes. 

Bob. Your Bob. He was alive!

“Palindrome,” you whispered in awe, face just about pressed up against the warm glass of the truck’s window. It was only a few seconds that he was suspended up in the air, but it felt like ages. Then, he began to plummet back down to the earth. “Oh, no.” 

His landing was not a graceful descent—in fact, the impact was so massive that it sent a strong gust of wind billowing across the base, knocking your truck clean off its path. The vehicle tumbled in rotation as it made its way down the sandy slopes. You would’ve likely gotten a concussion from being jostled about had you not split yourself into as many copies as you could fit, which was nearly forty, and stayed nice and tight amongst your own nervous copies.

It landed on its side, and you reabsorbed all the duplicates into one body. Moonlight spilled into the vehicle when John hacked at the truck’s metal with his shield. It caved noisily beneath the initial strikes, then eventually split. You might not have liked the man, but he was impressively strong. Was he super-serumed up just like the previous Captain America? The scientists in Madripoor that had been working on you were sure as hell trying their best to make their own formula of super serum, to no avail. 

“Oh,” he said, peering into the dark belly of the truck and seeing your deer-in-headlights expression. “I was worried you’d died in here. Good.”

“Xerox,” Yelena had said, helping you climb out of the truck. You took caution to avoid the sharp edges of the gap Walker carved for you. “Are you okay? Did you see that?”

You nodded. “That was Pal—Bob. Right? I wasn’t just seeing things?”

“Not unless all of us had a collective hallucination,” Ava put in. The group began to walk away from the totaled truck. There was no point in trying to get it up and running now—it was ruined beyond saving from the crash.

“Weirder things have happened,” you said, looking around the great expanse of nighttime desert. “Where did he land? Maybe we can help him.” 

“On the other side of the base. We couldn’t possibly get to him in time before Val and her crew,” Yelena said. Then, she handed you a file. “Valentina did this. To test on someone like that… it’s inhuman. She plans to use him.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, then you looked down. It was designs of superhero suits—a collage of striking gold and blue, all sharp angles and bold flares. Lacking all the soft gentleness you would’ve attributed to Bob. It even had a cape. 

“The power of a thousand exploding suns? Golden Guardian of Good?” Ava read over your shoulder, scoffing. “That’s a mouthful.”

“Sentry,” said Walker, taking the case file from you, to your annoyance. He wrinkled his nose in distaste as he took a quick gander. “Very shiny. I didn’t think any of them were still around.”

“Did you know about this?” you asked. 

Walker shoved the file back into your awaiting hands. “There was a rumor that O.X.E. had some kind of big breakthrough. I don’t know much, but whatever it was, it was apparently way too extreme. Test subjects were dying. And then when the government looked into it, Val shut it down, and she put me on clean-up duty. I was meant to take care of him.”

“Take care of him,” you scathingly echoed. “Kill him.”

“Well, yeah,” John bit back. “We all were sent to kill each other. Haven’t you gotten over it by now?”

Your eye twitched. “I’m sorry I haven’t warmed up to the idea just yet!”

Ava drew a large, heaving sigh. It seemed she had no energy left to bicker. “Let’s just get home without getting caught.”

John, to your delight, found cactus berries for everyone to eat. You were starving. When you thanked him, quietly, he twisted his mouth to the side and nodded. Not embarrassed, not prideful, but… something more muted, as if he wasn’t sure how to accept gratitude. 

The rest of the group ate and walked in relative silence, save for the occasional complaint, grumble, and irritated tongue-click. 

The Red Guardian—and Yelena’s adoptive father, which you later came to find out—had come to pick her and everyone else up in the middle of the desert, waving his arms about and screaming like a madman. He was a giant of a man, so large that he had to drive his beat-up limo hunched over the steering wheel, despite putting his seat as far back as it would go. His shoulders were broader than the sticky leather seat itself. He donned a shoddy red suit that looked like it belonged in a museum dedicated to decades-old artifacts. And he was terribly loud, always spouting out something about collaboration, family, and the terrific rag-tag team the lot of you made. He seemed intent on calling the group the Thunderbolts in honor of Yelena’s peewee soccer team.

You found him rather amusing, even if he was obnoxious, overstimulating, and smelled of stale tortilla chips.

Both Yelena and Alexei were arguing about the next course of action—the former wanting to hunker down and hide, while the boisterous latter seemed intent on defeating Valentina with the power of… friendship. You decided to stay silent on the matter. You couldn’t deny that going home sounded like a brilliant idea. But… so did saving Bob. 

Before a proper conclusion could be reached, Walker announced a convoy approaching the limo from behind, three chunky vehicles gaining speed. Alexei tried to engage “defensive measures”, but he’d forgotten which of the several buttons to press, and instead engaged a “party mode”, where the lights turned flashy pinks and purples, and a ridiculous EDM song began to blare from the built-in speaker system, nearly shocking you into splitting. 

And then the gunshots started firing. Walker made himself useful by deflecting the majority of the bullets with his shield. Ghost tried to climb out one of the windows, only to be met by a piercing blast of concentrated, high-frequency sound waves, instantly disabling her suit’s phasing abilities. Yelena currently had nothing but a gun, and Alexei was busy driving. That left you.

With a determined puff of breath, you multiplied once, then climbed out the car window. Distantly, John barked at you to stay behind the shield but he went largely ignored. 

This was going to hurt like hell. But, on the plus side, you never really knew if you had a limit to the number of clones you could produce before you exhausted yourself. Maybe today you could find out. Within the blink of an eye, there were a hundred of you, growing exponentially by the second. 

Yelena realized what you were doing before the others. You were forming a human wall. 

One of the military vehicles plowed right through the weakest part of the wall, your blood and guts splattering every which way, staining the sand a deep shade of crimson. Another tried to swerve around, but ended up skidding too quickly, tipping over and crashing to the side, tires moving fruitlessly in the air. Your copies, still multiplying, swarmed the vehicle like angry, hell-bent ants, slipping into the open windows and pummeling the few soldiers in there. You could feel the bullets empty into your body, but you swallowed down the pain and kept going. But exactly as you told Yelena before—limited bullets, inifinite of you. And good Lord, did it hurt like—well, like you were being run over a thousand times over because you quite literally were. 

The remaining car was taken care of by an explosion so loud that it seemed to reverberate through the very ground. Initially, you wondered if someone from the car had thrown back a grenade, but when you caught sight of the sleek motorbike, you knew it was a newcomer. 

You heard Walker distantly yell, “Bucky!”

And true to his word, It was Bucky Barnes, in the flesh. Your eyes widened ever so slightly. You reabsorbed your copies—the few remaining that were still alive—and watched from a distance as he swerved past the last car’s gunfire, pinned a cable to its underbelly, and fell back to hold the wire down with his metal arm. The car flipped in the air as if it were an omelet on an oiled skillet. You blinked, impressed. 

Then, to your dismay, Bucky took off his sunglasses, and proceeded to shoot an explosive disk at Alexei’s limo. Similar to the previous car, it did an uneven pirouette before crashing onto the road upside-down. You winced, hoping none of them were killed in the crash. Even if they weren’t your friends, you thought that killing them went a step too far. 

Bucky was a little ways ahead of you, but he turned and fixed you with an expectant stare. Was he going to shoot you, too?

But you should’ve known—Bucky Barnes was smarter than that. He pulled out a different gun—and when he shot, electric ropes shot out as if they were sticky webs. You came crashing to the ground as they wound about your body, spasming with the sharp current frying your skin. To your panic, duplicating was not an option if you were bound. 

“If—” you choked out as he drew nearer to you. “If you’re going to kill me, please do it quickly.”

The ex-Winter Soldier looked down at you with a cocked head. “I’m not going to kill you. You’re evidence.”

Bob couldn’t remember the last time he woke up in a nice bed. In fact, this was probably the nicest bed he’s ever been in. His fingers twitched beside him—silk sheets. Just from that, he knew that this wasn’t his home (thank God for that), nor was it a hospital. He sat up.

There was a woman sitting by his bedside, watching him.

“Hi,” she said, voice soft and meticulously tender. “How are you feeling, Robert? Are you comfortable?”

He stared at her for a moment before awkwardly saying, “Yeah.”

She nodded in satisfaction. “Good, good. My name is Valentina Allegra de Fontaine.”

The name immediately had Robert backing up to the headboard, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “No, you—you tried to kill us!”

She began shushing him as if he were a child throwing a fit. On the glass table beside her, she put down what looked and sounded to be a metal plate.

“Let me explain. Would you like that?”

Bob stared at her for a moment, before looking down at his hands fidgeting with the silk. “Yeah,” he whispered. 

“You signed up for a medical study, which was, as advertised, at the cutting edge of human improvement. But not everybody could handle the amount of greatness that we had in mind—”

As she spoke, Bob took to looking around. The room was rather empty save for the bed, the glass table, and the chair Valentina was sitting on. Where was he? He hoped he wouldn’t have to stay here long… he didn’t like empty spaces very much. The blankness of the walls always made him worse than usual. When he was younger, he wasn’t even allowed to put up posters because his father would tear them down the minute he saw them. Bob swallowed the lump in his throat, realizing he hadn’t been listening to what Valentina was saying.

“Where—where is everyone?” he asked, interrupting her long-winded explanation. “Xerox? Yelena?”

“Xerox?” she repeated, pulling a distasteful face. Bob frowned. “Yelena… Oh, Bob, those people you were with… they’re not honest people. They’re criminals. Villains, really.”

Bob inched closer to the headboard until his back was flush against the leather. “No, but they… they helped me.” 

Well, if they weren’t here, he hoped everyone managed to get to safety. That he was useful for once in his damn life and not just… in the way.

Valentina stood up from the chair and sat down on the bed, inches away from him. Bob stiffened at the sudden movement.

“Let’s just forget about them for a bit. Let’s focus on you,” the woman said, “and how perfect you are.”

Perfect? Him, perfect? Perfect Bob. It sounded like an oxymoron. An embedded contradiction.

“You always thought of yourself as the victim. But you overcame it! You went to Malaysia—you were lost. You were searching for something, someone to help you. And you found me,” she crooned. 

Bob could feel his breath hitch in his throat. “How do you know about that?” 

It was embarrassing—mortifying, even—that someone found out that he was looking for help because he was a pathetic loser who couldn’t do anything on his own, as if he even deserved help to begin with. And now she was confronting him about it! Bob wanted a hole to open in the ground so he could crawl inside of it and hide away for the rest of his stupid life.

“I know all of it,” Valentina assured, though it wasn’t very reassuring. “I know about your mom’s mental illness, I know about your addiction, your juvenile record, and, you know—I even know about the times your father—”

Bob felt his insides seize at the mention of his father. “Stop!” he said, hands immediately coming up to cup his ears. “No, I didn’t say you could know that.” The lights began to flicker, a dangerous hum filling the room.

Valentina shook her head, scooching even closer. “Robert, I know everything about you—and I still want you to be my guy! All the bad things you’ve done… and I accept it. I accept you. Isn’t that what you want? To be chosen? No one else sees it. But I do. I see you. And I think, Robert, that your past is what makes you so special.”

At this, Bob could feel a small part of him cave. She wanted him. Out of all people, she thought he was capable! Capable of what? Did it even matter? He was picked. Wanted, chosen, special, needed, valuable, a true asset!

That was what he wanted. Yes, a dark voice whispered in the back of his mind. She’s your ticket out. You won’t be a useless fucking loser anymore. 

Then, Valentina took his hand. His eyes narrowed a fraction. He dove into her mind and he saw it all—her father, the tears on her chubby nine-year-old cheeks, the bullet in his chest. When he pulled away, he regarded her with a mixture of pity and confusion. 

This woman was just as sad as him. Was everyone equally messed up in the head or did he just attract like-minded people?

Valentina cleared her throat, trying her best to give him a warm smile, but it ended up looking more like a grimace than anything. “Would you excuse me for just a moment?” she said, getting up from the bed. She looked a bit frazzled. Bob supposed being forced to live your most traumatic memory again did that to someone. 

Before she could leave, she picked up the metal disk. He caught a glimpse of the shiny golden S engraved on the front side.

Your ticket! the dark voice hissed. You fucking idiot.

“No,” he croaked out, scrambling away from the headboard. “No, wait!” He swallowed the bile in his throat. “I can control it.”

She smiled, victorious. “Great,” she said. Then, she turned and left, leaving Bob alone in the empty room.

Bucky Barnes was very good at ignoring you. He only seemed to listen after tying the super soldiers up with bent metal rods, and you, Ava, and Yelena with special power-defusing cuffs. And even then, he dismissed everyone trying to tell him about Bob, Project Sentry, and how Valentina betrayed all of you. He made a scathing remark to John about his wife and kid deciding to leave him—it was clear the two had a tense, troubled history. 

Finally, after about half an hour sitting around and wasting time, Bucky got a phone call. Who with, you didn’t know. Someone close to Valentina, maybe. But she mentioned Bob, and suddenly Bucky straightened. His scowl deepened upon realizing that this group of misfits and criminals—were telling him the truth all along.

“So…” he said after hanging up the phone. “Bob.”

“Bob,” the rest of the group echoed in both exasperation and relief.

“We have to help him,” you said, emphatically wriggling your wrists and shoulders to indicate the cuffs. “Valentina is only going to hurt him or use him to hurt others.”

“Or both,” Ava chimed.

Bucky thought on it for a long second, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Finally, he stalked over and uncuffed you, Yelena, then Ava. He unwound the metal pipe around Alexei as if he was snapping a string. He paused behind Walker, clearly unhappy to let him back on his feet, but he also broke him free of his bonds.

“You guys know Valentina,” he said. His eyes met yours. “Like you said—people are going to get hurt. And if your knowledge of this Bob can help… then you’re coming with me.”

“Us?” Yelena said, incredulous. “Bucky, you have the wrong people. Isn’t there anyone else you can call? Thor?”

“Off-world.”

“Captain America?” you asked, venturing a glance at Walker.

“Busy. Out of the country.”

“The Hulk?” Ava asked.

Bucky shook his head, patience wearing thin. “Listen. I’ve been where you are. You can run, but it catches up. It doesn’t go away. I’m giving you guys the opportunity to do something about it now. It’s either you come with me, or it’s a prison cell. Take your pick.”

Alexei needed no convincing. “This is great!” he roared. “All of us will be fighting together, like a team!”

More reluctant, Yelena drew in a breath. “Stop Val. Save Bob.”

You nodded. “I’m in.”

Walker pursed his lips. “Fine,” he gruffed.

Ava nodded, solemn. “Come on, then.”

Alexei looked around with a wide, oafish grin on his face. “YES!” he yelled. “Come on, then, you slowpokes! What are we waiting for?”

The plan to save Bob was really no plan at all—which was to be expected from a group of mercenaries and assassins who were typically used to working alone. 

Crash into the Avengers Tower. Beat up the guards. Find Valentina. Take care of her (you still weren’t very sure what this bit meant). Save Bob. Easy, right?

Well, crashing into the tower and beating up the guards certainly were a piece of cake. Finding Valentina, which you suspected to be one of the harder steps, turned out to be handed over to you on a silver platter. 

Her voice echoed on the intercom, effectively halting everyone mid-punch or mid-kick. As for Bucky, he dropped the guard he’d been strangling. “Jesus, you guys,” Valentina sighed. “I literally just had a new drywall installed. Should’ve known you lot would mess that up, too. I left the door unlocked for you. Come up.”

Yelena stood beside you, chest heaving. “Think it’s a trap?”

“Probably,” you said. “But do we have a better plan?”

“We didn’t have one to begin with,” Ava retorted. She gestured to the elevator. “Come on.”

The elevator took the group up to one of the very top floors of the tower. You stepped in with wide, scrutinizing eyes. Most of the original Avengers were dead now, weren’t they? Dead or retired. A vague memory of heroism and destruction. You were gone during the Blip—and you thanked God for that—so the Avengers bringing you back was more of a curse than a blessing on your end. 

“Crazy, isn’t it?” Valentina greeted everyone from behind an island counter. There was the pop of a champagne bottle as she poured herself a glass. “Think of all the monumental fights that happened exactly where you’re standing. I mean, I don’t really care—the place wasn’t cheap, but it’s got good optics.”

That’s all she ever seemed to care about, wasn’t it? Image. Branding. It was no wonder she always sent you on undercover missions. You weren’t marketable. No little girl or boy would buy your figurine when there was an Iron Man or Black Widow to pick from. 

“It’s over, Valentina,” Bucky said, expression stoic. “This ends now.”

“Congressman Barnes,” Valentina greeted, voice snippy. “I never thought you’d have a promising career but—you managed to disappoint even the lowest of expectations. Not even half a term, huh? Yikes.”

“We’re taking you in, Val,” Walker interrupted. 

This made her laugh, though it was inauthentic and hollow. “I don’t think so… junior varsity Captain America.”

His hand fell on his gun, and he only paused when Bucky said his name with a warning tone.

“It’s good to see you, Ava. Yelena. You look awful, by the way. You sure you’re really ready for that public-facing role you asked me about?” 

“Eat shit, Valentina.”

“Where’s Bob?” you said, feeling the tensions creeping up until it felt near suffocating. “What did you do to him?”

“Xerox. I thought you wanted to leave… And yet here you are. Just makes me wonder why you haven’t left. You had every opportunity to. Are you getting attached already? That was always a weakness of yours, wasn’t it?” She took a long sip from her champagne flute. “You know, he asked about you. Even mentioned the little nickname you gave him. Palindrome, right? It’s a little bit of a mouthful, but that’s just me.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Why were you still here? You didn’t owe Bob—or anyone else in this group—anything. 

Your evident hesitation made Valentina’s eyes light up. “Just look at you guys! So adorable, really. I sent you all down there to kill each other… but you made nice, and you form a team. Who would’ve thought?”

To your relief, Bucky cut through her condescending tirade by asking for Mel, who you assumed to be the person he was on the phone with earlier. 

“Oh, Mel,” she said, dismissive. “She’s having loyalty issues. But I’m just so grateful that she stuck around long enough to lure you all in—”

As she spoke, Bucky took the flute of champagne from her hands and placed it onto the island with a resounding tink. His hand then moved to close around Valentina’s throat.

But it never got there.

His hand froze mid-air, vibrating with strain. Bucky stared down at his arm with furrowed brows.

With a sharp, satisfactory grin, Valentina hummed, “I’m not alone. Robert?”

You turned to see a pair of dark boots descend down a flight of stairs. Each step revealed more of him—flashy golden suit, cinched blue belt, a dark, flowing cape. Blonde hair. A confident stance. A set jaw.

“Oh, my God,” Yelena said. 

“That’s Bob?” Bucky asked, words laced with disbelief.

“He looks… a little different from when we last saw him,” Ava said.

You stayed silent, watching him with what could only be described as a crestfallen expression. This wasn’t the Palindrome you remembered. What did Valentina do to him?

“It is my great honor to introduce to you… the Sentry,” Valentina beckoned to Bob as if he were a shiny new car she was parading. 

Bob nodded at the rest of you. “Hey, guys.” His eyes met yours for a brief second, but he was quick to look away. Your insides felt as if they were curdling.

“All powerful. Invincible. Stronger than all the Avengers combined—and soon to be known as Earth’s mightiest hero,” Valentina announced. 

Ava narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you dyed your hair?”

Bob blinked. “Yeah. It was—”

“My idea,” Valentina nodded.

“I preferred the dark hair,” you said, though you weren’t sure if you were saying it to spite Valentina or because it was the genuine truth. Perhaps both. “Brought out your eyes.”

Bob looked at you as if you had slapped him.

“People love a classic hero,” Valentina said. “All the strongest and most beloved were blondes. The original Captain America, blonde. Thor, blonde. Hawkeye, blonde-ish. Black Widow… blonde for some time.”

The mention of her sister made Yelena flinch. Valentina didn’t seem to notice.

“So what’s the plan?” Bucky said. He wasn’t here to discuss frivolities like hair color.

“You haven’t figured it out yet, Bucky? Geez. Did all that time in the freezer slow your brain down? At least you’re kinda cute—you have that going for you.” 

“You’re not going to hurt people?” the Guardian intervened, his inflection cautious and mildly confused. 

“Oh, no! No. I’m not going to hurt people. I’m going to hurt you—or, well, Robert here will. You see, the press is on their way here now. They’re going to witness the magnificent power of Sentry as he takes down this group of ruthless, rogue agents. Thus beginning a new era where I decide how to keep the American people safe, answering to no one. I’ll be unimpeachable.”

“Cool,” you snarked, lips curling into a snarl. “You got the villain monologue down and everything.” Then, you turned to Bob, trying your best to ignore Valentina’s presence right beside him. Your expression softened considerably. “You told her about Palindrome?” 

Bob froze, as if pondering if he’d done something wrong. “Ye–yeah. I thought—at first, I thought it would be a cool hero name. But yeah, uhm… Sentry is… better. Rolls off the tongue.”

You nodded. “Okay. No, you’re right, maybe. But Palindrome—same backwards as it is forwards, remember? Are you the same Bob I met down in the vault? Because I liked that Bob a lot more than what I see in front of me now.”

Initially, Bob’s expression crumpled. Any hope of seeking the team’s approval was immediately crushed under the heel of your foot. Then, to your dismay, Bob—no, Sentry’s—face grew stony.

“Valentina fixed me,” he said. “I’m better now.”

The team’s incredulous, disbelieving faces told Bob all he needed to know. None of you were on his side. 

Valentina nodded at the tall, now-blonde super. “Sentry. Your first mission is to take out these criminals.”

Bob swallowed heavily, brows furrowed as he weighed between his options. “I don’t want to hurt you guys,” he finally said. “Why don’t you just turn yourselves in?”

With a scoff, Walker said, “You don’t wanna do this, Bobby.”

A vein jumped on the side of Bob’s neck. “You can call me Sentry.”

“Please, you do not need to listen to her,” Yelena attempted to rationalize. 

“See?” Valentina exclaimed. “It’s exactly as I told you—they don’t think you’re good enough.”

“That’s not true!” Yelena asserted. “You can trust me, Bob! I know you!”

Bob fixed her with what looked to be a disappointed gaze. “I don’t think that you do.”

“But—you saved us. Only a few hours ago, you sacrificed yourself to help us escape. What was any of that for?” You loathed how your voice broke with desperation. 

Bob had a hard time swallowing around the rising lump in his throat. His mind darted back to the many times you died just to save him. None of this sat well with him, but… it needed to be done. 

“It was a mistake,” he said, simply. He chanced a glance to Valentina, who nodded in approval.

You recoiled like a wounded snake. 

“ENOUGH TALKING!” Alexei bellowed. Bob still wasn’t very sure who he was. “No one messes with the West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts!” 

Just as Val incredulously echoed, “Thunderbolts?” Alexei stormed forward, pulling all his weight into a barrel-slam. It was as if he were hit with a solid, thick wall of dense lead. Bob punched him straight in his round belly, and like a ragdoll, the super soldier went flying backwards, crumpling into a red heap against a nearby pillar. Immediately, the rest of the team dove into action and attacked Bob. Save for Yelena, who was still trying to make peace with him.

Bob was, as Valentina had alluded to earlier, seemingly invincible. Able to fling people away without having to disturb a single dyed hair on his head. Stop special-grade bullets mid-air and send them right back to the assailant at twice the speed. Withstood the sharpest of blades and the strongest of punches. 

You split into two copies. One to assist Walker, whose shield was embedded into a sofa, nearly cleaving it in two, and another running after Valentina, who you spotted hurrying to hide behind a corner.

“You lied to us,” you hissed, grabbing the collar of her dress shirt, yanking her close until her nose was inches away from yours. “I came to you for help. I thought you would save me.”

“I did,” she said, and began to howl and laugh like a maniac. “When I found you, you were an empty husk of a person. Now look at you. Fighting with your friends. There’s a spark that wasn’t there before. You know, if I hadn’t only stuck you to do my dirty work, you would’ve made a good hero. A lack of planning on my end, I’m afraid.”

You felt your eyes sting with the promise of tears. “I could’ve been good?”

“Yes,” she said, shrugging. “But you chose this. Sure, I gave you the order… but who, in the end, pulled the trigger?” Without giving you the chance to respond, she lolled her head to the side. “Oh, Sentry!”

Bob, who had been preoccupied smashing Alexei through the windows as if he were playing frisbee, snapped his head to see you holding Valentina. Immediately, his eyes started glowing, and you were ripped away. 

There was no hope in fighting against a man more powerful than all the Avengers rolled into one. You braced yourself for pain, squeezing your eyes shut. But there came none. Instead, when you cracked an eye open you were suspended midair outside of the penthouse. 

“How far?” he asked you, striding to the window, its frames lined with shattered bullet-proof glass.

“What?” you choked out, trying to struggle, though you knew that if he dropped you, you would be met with a terrible fall that was likely worse than the fall you had in the vault. 

“How far until you lose control and get a seizure?” He turned and bent Walker’s shield until it caved around his arm, now shaped like a curved taco shell. “I don’t want to send you too far. I’d prefer not to hurt you.”

“Fuck you!” you snarled. A second too late, you realized that was probably a terrible thing to say to him when he had you floating mid-air, completely at his mercy. “Wait, Bob—please just stop this—!” The rest of your plea was lost to the wind as he sent you streaking further away from the tower, going so fast that the civilians down below must have thought you were some sort of high-tech drone.

Your duplicate watched in horror, knowing there was nothing you could do for your other-you. You were taken farther and farther until you grew limp, convulsing hundreds of feet above the ground. The copy in the tower crumpled to the ground with not a sound. Ava, battered and bruised, dragged your convulsing body away from the action so you were less likely to be struck while down. 

And when the rest of the team gave up and turned to retreat, Bucky was the one to pick you up by the scruff of your dark suit, dragging you into the elevator. He was missing his metal arm, which Sentry had torn off like it had been attached with paperclips, hot glue, and a dream. Ava picked it up on her way into the lift.

Sentry advanced on them with glowing eyes. “Forgetting someone?” 

He reached out behind him, fingers curled into a beckoning motion. Your copy came flying back into the tower, crashing into the rest of the team as if you were a bowling ball, and the rest of the team the pins. Your skull rattled as it knocked into Alexei’s, and you gasped for air, dizzy and disoriented. If you had been more lucid, you would have apologized to Walker for your boot crashing into his eye. That was likely going to leave a terrible bruise. Yelena took your arm and wound it around her to help you stay upright. 

“I’m so glad you were able to catch a glimpse before your… retirement,” Valentina called out, slinking out from the shadows she was hiding in. “Camera crews are assembling. Finish the job, Robert.”

Bob waited until the elevator doors slid to a close, hiding all the fearful faces from his observant gaze, and he could hear the lift move downwards.

“Finish the job?” he echoed. “No. They’re not a threat to me, so… why do I need to kill them?”

Valentina gave him a tight-lipped smile. “You need to do what I say, Robert.”

Confusion washed over his polished, golden features. “Why?” 

“Why?” Valentina parroted, almost mocking. Bob could feel anger bubble behind his chest.

“I just…” He exhaled in frustration. “I feel like there’s an… unwarranted power imbalance here.” He motioned between himself and her. “There needs to be more of a collaboration between us if this is going to work. Like, the hair—I don’t know. Maybe I should have more of a say.”

She rolled her eyes to the broken ceiling from when Yelena was flung upwards. “Don’t let those idiots get to your head. The blonde is great.”

“You sure?” said Bob, now pacing back and forth, wringing his hands. “I thought I liked it, but now I’m not so sure. Xerox said—”

“Forget Xerox!” Valentina exclaimed. “That’s enough about the hair, Sentry.”

“It’s not just about the hair, though—”

“Well, you keep bringing it up, so—”

“No, but it’s everything!” Bob asserted. “It’s all of it. My suit, my name, my missions. I didn’t even want to be Sentry. I thought Palindrome was good. It… it is good.”

As if she were consoling a child, Valentina relented. “Fine. If you want to change it so bad, be my guest. We’ll just have to re-do all the paperwork all over again and—”

Bob shook his head. “Why would a god… take orders from anyone at all?”

Brow cocked, Valentina slowly said, “I think you’re throwing the word god a bit loosely there.”

“No,” Bob said. “No, but you said… I was all-powerful and stronger than the entire team of Avengers, which includes at least one God. I’m starting to think that maybe you don’t actually know what I am, nor what I’m capable of. I’m the only survivor from the medical trials, aren’t I? I’m the only one left.” 

Val drew in a sharp breath, folding her hands behind her back. “Oh, God.”

“Yeah,” said Bob. “Yes, that’s more like it.”

Before she could draw out the emergency killswitch, Bob took her by the throat and sent her flying across the room, pinning her against a metal support frame. She struggled against his hold fruitlessly. 

“You were going to turn on me,” said Bob, narrowing his eyes. “Just like the rest of them.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Robert,” she croaked before he began to apply more pressure against her esophagus.

“It’s not Robert you have to be afraid of,” he said, voice as cold as the steel behind her. His eyes began to glow a terrifying golden hue and—

There was a click and a zap, and Bob’s hold on her loosened. Sentry crumpled to the ground in a heap of golds and blues. Mel was standing behind the pair, holding the killswitch, legs shaking. 

“I want a raise,” she demanded. 

“Fine. Order cleanup and it’s yours,” said Val, gripping the support beam with shaking hands. “And help me up, damn it!”

The two eventually stumbled into the elevator, leaving Bob’s body alone in the Avengers tower. A minute after Val abandoned his corpse, however, the floors darkened to an inky blank around him. His suit and face was now pitch-dark, absent of any sort of color. His finger twitched. First his pinky, then his thumb, then his whole hand. By the second minute, he began levitating, floating a meter above the cracked floors.

Bob, Palindrome, Robert, Sentry, the Golden Guardian of Who Gives a Flying Fuck—what he used to be… was gone now. And what was left of him?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Just a void.

Once outside the Avengers Tower, you reabsorbed into one body, stumbling away from Yelena to sit on the curb. Behind you, they were bickering, as always. Alexei wanted to go somewhere to regroup and try again. As if being completely beaten to a pulp wasn’t enough. 

Yelena was done. She was fed up with his bullshit. 

“Stop. Just stop! There is no us. There is no we. Bob is gone. He changed into that thing—and there is nothing that any of you could do about it,” she hissed. 

“Right,” Ava said, rolling her eyes. “And what did you do, exactly? Because I seem to remember you getting your ass beat way worse than mine. Xerox didn’t even try to stop Bob.”

“Because we didn’t stand a chance. There was no point,” you gritted out, getting back up to your feet. “Sorry I prioritized getting Valentina over him.”

“Fat load of good that did!” Ava exclaimed, throwing her hands up in defeat.

“Yeah, I get it! I suck! We suck! We’re all terrible!” Yelena screamed. The pedestrians going about their day eyed the rag-tag team of bloodied, bruised, suited individuals. “Ava, you’re not a hero. You’re not even a good person.”

Ava pretended that didn’t sting. “Bitch,” she muttered under her breath. 

When Alexei tried to step in, Yelena exploded at him, too. “I am not your little girl! I haven’t heard from you or seen you in a year! It’s like you didn’t even care about Natasha. You’re a fucking fake and a coward and I wish you never pretended to be my father!”

Walker stepped in, saying, “Come on, go easy on him.”

“Oh, so you’re nice now?” Yelena said, rounding on him.

“What, is it my turn?” he said, tone flat and unimpressed.

“No, you know you’re a piece of trash,” Yelena spat. “And so does your family.”

“Jesus,” said Walker, grimacing at how much that stung.

“Yelena,” you said, weary of her biting your head off for even speaking. “We tried. We failed. We move on. Can we do that?”

“No, but you didn’t try, did you? I saw you talking to Valentina. You could’ve done it. You had the chance to kill her, but you didn’t. You were too caught up in your selfish fantasies of self-fulfillment that you’ve doomed the rest of us!” 

You nodded, withdrawing, clearly wounded. “Mhm. Okay.”

Maybe she was right. Maybe it was your fault. You had Valentina. You did. Was your need for closure selfish? Did it cost everyone a potential victory?

“We lost,” Yelena said with a tone of finality. She turned around and began to stalk away. “This fucking team was built on delusions. We were never anything, not ever.”

Alexei went after her. The rest of the group slowly started to retreat into different directions. You looked to Bucky with sad eyes he thought resembled a kicked animal.

“Does it get better?” you asked. Your gesture to your head was vague and hard to interpret, but Bucky seemed to understand you almost instantly.

“I wish I had an easy answer for you, kid.” The soldier pursed his lips, regarding you with furrowed brows. “But not like this, it won’t. Not like this.”

“What are you going to do now?” you whispered. 

Bucky clenched his jaw. It was clear that he had no idea what the protocol was for a situation like this. “As of now, Valentina’s intentions with Sentry are unclear. She could be planning out acts of terrorism as we speak. I think the smartest course of action is evacuating the premises.” He eyed you warily. “You can go home. You’ve done enough.”

“I want…” The words lodged in your throat. “Bucky, I know I’m a fuck-up. I’ve done bad, terrible things. I know there’s no coming back from that. But I want to help. I want to be better.”

Something flickered in the blue of his eyes, as if he was recalling something. Someone. “Okay, kid,” he said after a brief pause. “Come on.”

The two of you began to usher the crowd away. You multiplied a few dozen times, scattering to hoard as many people you could off the streets. You heard many shocked whispers amongst the passerby. Is that Congressman Barnes? No fucking way—that’s the Winter Soldier. Is Captain America around? Why are there four of you? That’s freaky as shit.

“I’m Xerox,” you hurriedly told a family loitering by the entrance to the subway station, trying your best to seem friendly but you likely came off as a raving lunatic instead. “You need to evacuate the premises now. Someone dangerous could be—”

“Are you a hero?” a little girl asked you in wonder, taking a gander at your suit, which was battered and covered with dust and soot. It definitely had seen better days. “You don’t really look like one.”

The mother flinched with shock, and began to frantically apologize for her daughter’s lack of a filter.

“It’s okay,” you reassured. “I’m no hero. I just want to help.”

The mother nodded, looking worried. “That’s good enough for me.” It was clear she was no stranger to bizarre happenings in New York. “Come on, Adeline. Let’s go.” They hurried off, and you returned to Bucky, who was urging a gaggle of laughing teenagers not to go into a theater.

“Good. You cleared the street,” said Bucky. “We should set up some sort of blockade to—”

Abruptly, Bucky stopped mid-sentence. His eyes were trained up to the sky, and you turned to follow his gaze. You felt your heart painfully skip a beat in your chest.

A dark figure floated above the city. Caped, with a suspiciously similar silhouette to Sentry. You squinted, straining your vision, barely making out his arm extending out as if he was mimicking grabbing something.

“That’s—” Bucky started.

“Bob,” you breathed out. 

You watched in horror as helicopters came flying towards him. At first, you thought they were press, just as Valentina promised—until they started shooting at him. The bullets seemed to disappear through him. And after a second, the helicopters came crashing down, as if they were completely void of pilots. The vehicles spun into construction scaffolding, pieces of unfinished building breaking apart and falling to the world below.

You and Bucky were quick to move then, yanking civilians out from under falling rubble. You multiplied more in an effort to help, even if it meant getting hit by falling concrete once in a while. You caught sight of Alexei using a metal sign he had torn off a shawarma restaurant to protect citizens as they escaped down the subway tunnels, and Yelena saving an elderly woman from getting run over by a news van. Another helicopter was tumbling down from further down the street, and Ghost phased through rapidly-rotating blades to shove people out of the way. Walker was stopping a large slab of concrete from crushing a civilian. Your clones being as scattered as they possibly could meant you had eyes in all directions. A dozen of you hurried over to help him push it upwards, gritting your teeth with the solid weight.

Another one of you dragged the woman out from underneath. She was sobbing profusely, praying in a language you couldn’t understand. But she signed something—the tips of her fingers touching her lips, then beckoning out to you. Thank you.

It felt like something finally clicked into place. Was it inherently selfish of you to want to help people because it made you feel good? Or did it cancel out?

Yelena joined, then Alexei. Ghost phased through and began pushing beside Walker. Bucky put all his weight in with his metal arm, and the slab finally tipped over, crashing onto the street with such a weighty thud that the asphalt beneath fractured. 

And then the crowd around you started clapping. Quietly at first, but rising up to a deafening applause. 

“Mom?” called a small child across the street. There was a shadow falling over her, growing larger. Alexei was there before anyone else, shielding the little girl from the falling debris that would certainly have crushed her to death if he hadn’t been there. 

“You’re safe, little one,” said Alexei, kneeling down to her height. 

The dry tear tracks on her chubby cheeks bent as she smiled at the red giant before her.

And then she was gone. The only thing left in her place was a shadow in a blobby, vague shape of the girl, spilling darkness across the street. 

You flinched. Three civilians across from you disappeared in the same way. Then two to your left. Another pair behind you. Your eyes flew upwards to see Bob—Sentry—whoever that was descend down to hover only a few feet above the totaled street. 

“You will all know the truth,” his voice echoed. “You can’t outrun the emptiness.”

Screams erupted around you as people fled every which way. You reabsorbed your copies closest to the growing darkness.

“Come on,” Walker said, yanking your arm. “We need to get people off the streets!”

You nodded, rushing ahead to direct people into the subway tunnels. 

“Yelena!” you heard Alexei bellow. “Yelena, what are you doing?”

You turned to see her calmly striding towards the darkness. 

“No,” you whispered. Your closest copy ran towards her, only a few feet away.

“It’s like you said,” the dark figure murmured, his voice somehow loud enough to reverberate in your ears like a piercing drum. “We’re all alone. All of us.”

“Yelena,” you said, taking her forearm. “Yelena, we have to go.”

“Aren’t you tired of fighting?” Bob asked. Instinctively, you knew he was speaking to you. “I can fix it. Let me fix it.”

“No, Pal,” you said, edging away from the darkness, which was eating at the streets. “I don’t need you to fix me, thank you. I haven’t even tried a licensed therapist yet. Come, Yelena, please.”

Your words fell on deaf ears. The assassin shut her eyes and let out a sigh. She stepped forward, and then she was gone. You heard Alexei’s anguished screams somewhere behind you. 

The Void reached out and turned a few more panicked civilians into shadows. Before you knew it, the entire street was blackened, leaving only a circle around you.

“I promise it won’t hurt,” The Void said. He floated down to the ground to stand in front of you, just inches away. If you reached out, you would be able to touch him. You could feel the cold emanating off his body, tempting you to just—fall into him. “The darkness will keep you company.”

“And that’s you?” you whispered, trying your best to look for an expression in such a blank canvas of darkness. “Where’s Bob?”

“He doesn’t matter anymore,” the Void said.

“He does,” you insisted. “He did to me.” 

“You died for him,” he said, tilting his head.

You nodded. “And I would again.”

“Why?” 

The question, though it was just one word, weighed heavy on your mind. 

“I’m not the bad guy I thought I was,” you finally told him. You stared at the darkness closing in around you with a heavy heart. “If I went in—would I find Bob in there?”

“Your Palindrome is hiding. He isn’t looking to be saved.” The Void motioned around him. “Look at this mess. This is no place to be. Step in with me. I’ll take care of it. You wouldn’t need to worry anymore… it’ll be just us.”

“Can I try to help him in there?” Your voice broke, betraying your own fear.

The black figure’s shoulders trembled as if he were smothering a laugh. “You can try. I’d advise giving up, though. It’s never worth it. Now… come.” 

His arms spread wide open, inviting you in. Distantly, you could hear Bucky and Ava call out your name. You swallowed heavily.

Then you fell forward, willingly embracing someone for the first time since you were a child. He was solid for a split moment. All frigid edges and hard muscle—then you collapsed into the soft darkness, and sat back up in a hospital room.

It was the same vision as before. Two of you. One whole and one cut. Without hesitating, you kicked at the surgeon, grabbing a scalpel from the table and slitting his throat. You watched the blood gush out of his wound, dark and bubbling. Too dark to be real blood. 

You turned to free yourself with the missing leg from the operating table, slicing at the leather straps. And then, to your shock, young-you began attacking yourself. 

It was disorienting to see your younger self snarl like a rabid animal, leaping from the table to claw at you, sinking sharp little teeth into your exposed throat. You made a garbled noise of pain, and threw the kid off. Your throat stung, but it was a hollow pain that was quick to fade back into nothingness.

“I’m you!” you screamed before the kid could leap at you again. “I’m you!”

“I don’t know you,” little Xerox said. “You’re not real. You can’t be real.”

“I’m you,” you whispered. You put the scalpel down and approached like one would a nervous horse. “Honey, I’m you. I’m okay, see? You’ll be okay.”

Little-you swayed. You began to cry in the silent way you always did, smaller frame wracking. 

“It’s okay,” you said with an aching chest, gathering yourself up in your arms, stroking the back of your head. “Let it out. There you go.”

The child began to bawl into your chest. You reached over for the scalpel again, slicing through the bonds of the young, whole copy. “Here. Take care of each other, okay?”

“Okay,” the whole copy said. Both of the younger Xeroxes held onto one another. You stepped away with a heavy heart. 

“Palindrome?” you called out. “I’m here to help. Come talk to me.”

Nothing.

With a huff, you turned out of the hospital room, shoving your way through the doors, though not before bidding a respectful goodbye to your younger copies. 

You found yourself in a different room now. You had escaped the hospital at this point, now living off of the meager cash you earned by doing the dirty work for Madripoorean crime lords. Your gun was trained on a woman as she sobbed for mercy.

“I didn’t mean to—” she said, wiping away the snot that dribbled from her nose. “I didn’t mean to, please tell him that for me!”

“I don’t speak to my bosses,” your copy said. Current-you rounded about to look at Xerox’s face here. Gaunt, with glassy, empty eyes. “He wants you gone.”

“I can be gone!” she said, nodding. “Please. You can pretend you shot me. I can disappear without a trace.” When you said nothing, she doubled over, wailing out a pitiful noise. “I’m pregnant. Please. Please don’t kill me.”

Past-Xerox’s eyes thinned into disbelieving slits. “Lie.”

“I’m not lying. Please. It’s his child, but I can—”

“Don’t tell me that.”

“Just listen to me—”

Your younger self began to panic. “Why would you tell me that?”

“If you could—”

“Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up.” 

“Is—do you need money? Is it money you want?”

“No.” Yes. “I don’t need your charity.”

The woman shakily pulled out crumpled bills from her bag, offering them to you. You gritted your jaw and pulled the trigger. She fell to the ground with her mouth frozen mid-plea. Before you left, you took the bills and stuffed them into the holey pockets of your ratty trousers. You took the silver necklace the woman was wearing for good measure, too.

Your past-self looked up at you. “Do we ever find out?”

“What?”

“Was she really pregnant?”

You stared down at the dead woman with horror. “I don’t know.”

Young Xerox straightened, shoulders rolling back. “We don’t deserve to be forgiven. Not for this.”

“Maybe not,” you agreed. “You’re also only eighteen.”

“So?”

“You were just a kid. You had no money. No food. No home. No family. Just you and your copies and your missions,” you whispered. 

“Tch. Sounds like a bunch of excuses to me.”

You nodded. “It is. It’s an excuse.” You looked down the alleyway. “Valentina will be coming soon for you. She’ll be too good to be true at first. A house. A clean bed. Food in the fridge. But it’ll be the same thing again. Just… repackaged.”

Your younger self’s face twisted with a rotten, disappointed look. “Do we ever get better?”

“We try to. I try to.”

“Good.” Young Xerox pointed up a rusty metal fire escape. “He’s up there. Your Pal.”

“Thank you,” you said, about to make your way up the creaky stairs. 

“He wants to be found,” said young you, nodding. “He made the rooms easy for you. There’s a lot worse that he could’ve chosen from.”

“That’s true,” you whispered, though saying that made you feel all the more terrible for the dead woman on the ground. “What about you? Did you want to be found?” you asked, unsure if you wanted to hear the answer.

“You tell me,” retorted the younger you with a wolfish grin. “I’m all me, remember?”

Your final room was when you lived in America. It was dark in your apartment. You were twenty-five, looking a bit healthier than you had been at eighteen, but still just as miserable. 

You stood in front of the stove, which held a pot that was almost halfway full to the brim with boiling water. “Come on,” younger you said, jumping up and down on the spot, psyching yourself up. Your palm raised to slap yourself across the face. There was a belt tied about your mouth so as to not alert your civilian neighbors. “Come on, you pussy,” you hissed at yourself from behind the belt.

Inhaling sharply, you held in your breath as you dove your left palm into the boiling water. Your scream went muffled behind the belt. After a moment, you quietened to an occasional whimper. It was strange being able to watch yourself and not feel the same pain. Only the memory of it. 

It wasn’t self-harm. At least, you didn’t consider it to be so back then. It was endurance training. Upping your pain tolerance for the job. Valentina had told you that you were useless if you couldn’t handle dying. 

Younger you pulled your raw hand out of the pot after about thirty seconds, then flipped the tap on to its coldest setting, sticking it beneath the running water with a hiss. The next day, you would repeat the process until you lost all feeling in your left hand, frying your nerve endings to shit. 

As the room began to repeat itself, you stopped your younger self from plunging a hand into the pot by grabbing your wrist. “You don’t have to do that,” you said. “There are other ways of being strong.”

“If I don’t do this, I’m not worth anything,” young Xerox said. “I’d be nothing.”

“Hurting yourself doesn’t make you stronger,” you deadpanned. “You’re wasting your time.”

“I know,” the younger you sighed. “I know that. It’s just nice to be in control of my own pain for once.”

“You can be in control by consciously trying to keep yourself from the pain,” came your soft whisper. “Hurting yourself doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t solve anything. It only leaves scars that take way too long to heal. Trust me. I still can’t wear short sleeves.”

Younger you barked out a laugh. “Oh, I know. Summers are hell.”

“I know, right?” you said, smiling for the first time in what felt like weeks. “You know what helped me?”

“What?”

“Crosswords,” you said. “The newspaper stand across the store sells entire books. Every time I had the urge, I would solve a puzzle or two.”

“Oh, God,” said the younger you, bending over into what sounded like a cry, but it was actually an incredulous laugh. “I’m such a nerd. Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just try it. It helps.”

“Okay, okay. Fuckin’ geek.”

“We memorized every single element of the periodic table in order by age eleven. I think the nerd has been with us all along.” As you spoke, you took the pot of boiling water and carefully maneuvered to dump the steaming water into the sink. You turned off the stove, and past-you didn’t try to stop you.

Your younger self smiled, and it was clear that it’s been a while since that happened, too. Then, it faded just as quickly as it appeared. “What happens if we run out of crosswords?” 

The question didn’t seem to be just about crosswords.

“We can always try something new,” you ventured. “I think crocheting is all the rage now.”

“Is it?” 

“Probably not, no. I’m not really sure what the youths are into these days. It changes every other day.”

“We can try crocheting anyway,” past-you laughed. Then, you pointed into the living room. “Look in the TV. He should be there.”

“Alright. Thanks.” You gave mid-twenties Xerox a two-fingered salute, then turned to sit down in front of your TV. 

And, as promised, you caught a glimpse of Bob in the reflection. When you looked behind you, it was still your regular, dim living room. You looked back at the dark screen.

“Found you,” you murmured, a relieved smile playing at the corner of your lips. “Hey, Bob? It’s good to see you.”

Despite the warped reflection, you could see him look up with a creased, almost guilty expression. “You found me,” he said, surprise evident in his tone. 

“I did. Will you let me in?”

“... I don’t know.”

“Please let me in. I want to help.”

Bob drew his knees up to his chest, cradling himself. The darkness surrounded you, and in the blink of an eye, you were in a different room. One you didn’t recognize. Your gaze flickered about. This must’ve been one of Bob’s rooms. An attic, by the looks of it—cluttered with junk.

You sat down in front of him. He was fiddling with a Rubix cube. “I used to love solving those,” you told him. 

“I’m—” He handed the cube over to you. “I’m pretty bad at it. I don’t know.”

“I was, too,” you said, turning the squares about. Bob watched you gradually align the colors together—orange with orange, green with green, blue with blue. You struggled with one side, but after moving back a few paces, you managed to get it right. “I was terrible at it. I kept giving up and reshuffling. But I got better with time and practice.”

You handed the cube back to him, neatly solved. Bob took it with soft fingers, inspecting your handiwork. “I don’t know how.”

“I can help you,” you said. “And there’s people out there that can help you, too.”

“They can’t help me. I’m… broken.”

There was screaming coming from downstairs. The noise made Bob flinch, his hands instinctively going up to his ears. As you listened, you could hear a man yelling, the sound of skin smacking skin, and the sound of a woman crying. A little boy intervened. More thuds, smacks, a shattering glass. The woman began berating the little boy for making things worse. It made your heart sink low to the pits of your stomach.

“Just ignore that, please,” he said once the noise died down, as if afraid you would leave now. “Don’t mind them.”

You drew in a breath. Tentative, you asked, “Can I touch you, Bob?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice croaky. “Yeah, you can. What are you doing?”

“I’m going to give you a hug. Is that okay?” 

Bob nodded again. His mom used to give him hugs, but that was a long time ago. Before she…

“Yeah,” he said, and he felt shame wash over him when tears pricked the corner of his eyes. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him. He patted at your back awkwardly, but eventually took to mimicking your embrace when you sank into him, holding you close. 

“This is the first time I’ve hugged someone else in a very long time, you know. I’ve mostly just hugged my clones, as sad as that sounds,” you mumbled into his shoulder. 

“I don’t think that’s sad. I like to hold myself, too.”

“I like your hair like this, by the way,” you said as you tried to pull away, but he was holding onto you rather tightly. “Bob.”

“Oh!” He cleared his throat shyly, forcing himself to relinquish his grasp on you. “Sorry. Thanks. That was nice.”

“It was,” you agreed. There was some more silence. Bob put a fist up to his mouth and began to weep, utterly overwhelmed but nearly silent. You placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles over his back. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“No, I’m—” Bob let out a quaky breath and began to cry all over again. You scooched closer to him and let your hand lay over his. He enjoyed feeling your fingers trace shapeless patterns over his skin.

“Bob,” you murmured after he began to calm down. “I don’t want to stay here forever. Do you?”

He swallowed around nothing, and avoided the question. “It’s quiet here. Quieter than the other places. The rest are… worse than this.”

“Hm.”

“It’s not me, you know. I wish I could fix it, but I just can’t. I can’t stop it,” he muttered. “It’s—it’s the Void.” 

You nodded. “Could you let Yelena in here, at least? I saw the Void take her. We can help you together.”

Bob blinked back his tears. He nodded. The room slowly rotated ninety degrees, and you could hear creaking footsteps outside. Yelena busted the door open with a sharp kick to the doorknob, which you found amusing, considering the door didn’t look to have a lock on it. The team had a troubling tendency not to check if doors could just open on their own without breaking them down first.

“Bob!” she exclaimed. Then, her brows rose upon seeing you. “Xerox.”

“Hi,” you greeted. Bob waved at her besides you.

“What’s going on?” she asked, surveilling her surroundings in typical assassin-fashion. 

“Therapy session,” you said, only half-joking, patting the spot beside you. 

There was screaming downstairs again. Yelena wandered over to look down the attic’s opening, where she could see a man with a glass bottle in his hands. She looked up at you and Bob, then sat down where you gestured. 

“I’m sorry, you had to live through this, Bob. And listen,” she said, lips pursed, meeting his watery gaze. “What I said to you before was wrong. You can’t stuff it down. You can’t hold it in all alone. No one can. Nobody should. We have to let it out. We have to spend time together. Even if it doesn’t make the emptiness go away, I promise you… it’ll make you feel lighter.”

Bob sniffed. “How do you know?” he whispered.

“Because it already has for me,” Yelena told him. “I found a team of people I could trust.”

At this, she looked to you, expression apologetic. “I’m sorry for what I said to you out there, too. You are not selfish. In fact, you’re probably the most selfless person I know. Not a lot of people are willing to die all the time for others.”

“Thanks, Yelena,” you said, simultaneously warm with sincerity and stiff because you weren’t at all used to receiving compliments. “So what do you say, Bob? Will you help us get out of here?”

To your delight, Bob nodded. You smiled, taking his hand. Yelena’s eyes bounced between the two of you—absent-mindedly wondering what the two of you were talking about before she arrived. She didn’t have much time to dwell on it, however, because the walls and furniture began to hum with a low-tone frequency.

“Look out!” Bob exclaimed, pulling Yelena down as a lamp flew across the room, nearly hitting her square in the head. A plastic kiddie chair whizzed into his back, striking him painfully. There were papers—monstrous childhood drawings—flying every which way. The curtains broke free of their hooks on the railing, wrapping around you and Yelena. Bob hurried over to try to claw the fabric off you, to no avail. It wouldn’t let go.

“Just try to get used to it, okay?” he called out over the whizzing and smashing of objects. “If you try to resist—the pain only gets worse!”

You could feel your vision swim with black dots as you gasped for breath—and all of a sudden, there was a slicing noise, and you were falling to your knees, filling your lungs with air. It was Ava, holding a sharp blade in one hand. 

She nodded at you, helping you up to your feet. “I should start keeping track of how many times I’ve saved you.”

Before you could respond, Walker and Alexei burst in through the walls, followed by Bucky through one of the windows. You only narrowly managed to dodge his metal arm cuffing you across the head with his dramatic entrance. 

“You came for us,” Yelena said, looking at her father with a touched frown. “What did you see? Are you all okay?”

Bucky only shrugged. “Oh, I’m fine. I have a great past, so I’m totally fine.”

“We’re probably going to need another one group therapy session once we’re out of here,” you said, which made both Bob and Yelena smile to themselves, nodding. 

“Thank you guys,” said Bob. “Really.” He was about to say something about how he didn’t deserve this—but when you put a hand on his arm, he bobbed his head again and kept his mouth shut.

“How do we get out of here?” asked Walker, glancing back at the ruined walls. “I’d prefer not to have to go through my rooms again.”

Bob scratched at the back of his head. “As far as I know, it’s just… endless rooms.”

“You said that this was the quietest room, right? That all the others are worse?” you asked, and Bob nodded hesitantly. 

The Thunderbolts team all exchanged determined looks. Alexei cracked his neck, John rolled his shoulders, and Ava flexed her fists. 

You gave Bob a gentle push towards the broken doorway. “Okay, Palindrome. Show us the worst of ‘em. We’ll take on whatever comes our way together.”

[angelfishe]

|| 🂱🂱 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄. 🂱🂱 ||

<< yandere VIP Zhongli x Player!reader >>

After your mother suddenly has gotten her self into a large debt that seems it is never gonna end, someone recruited you to participate in a game to clean off that debt, but turns out it was a life and death situation as well meeting some familiar faces.

A one shot of my previous post

Warning : includes some dub-con intimacy, spoilers for the squid game series, blood, violence, as well mentions of intimacy

<< Viewers discretion is advised>>

Your mother has gotten herself into a large amount of debt for no apparent reason, she got Carried away in an illegal casino as well taking a loan from an illegal casino.

So you took odd jobs to pay off the debt to help her, but it never seems to end for you guys suffering. Everyday is tiring getting up at 4 am and going home at 11 pm, it was exhausting.

You were tired one day after a night shift, and was waiting at the train station to go home until a man in a business suit approached you, saying why don't you guys play a game for some money. You were desperate for cash so you accepted it.

After that, you receive some slaps but you eventually win. You get your cash and as well a business card about playing a game and clearing your debt.

You decided to take your chances and go with a friend to this so-called game. You and her wait for the car that was taken to you guys towards the game and when it arrives you guys suddenly fall asleep. You guys wake up in a green jump suit with different numbers on it.

After the game rules were laid out by the guards and the first game was "red light, green light", you didn't think much of it and followed the game as usual. Until one person moves during a red light and was shot, and soon all hell broke loss

People ran towards the exit and ended up getting shot left and right, you and your friend didn't know what to do and was scared to move and that's how you guys survive the first game.

During the dalgona shape game, unfortunately for you, you receive a star shape one. You were stressing about it until a guard next to you decided to drop a lighter right next to you and you unknowingly grab to use it.

During the third game it was a miracle that your team managed to win, during the night when there were lights out people left and right started to eliminate each other.

You were safe due to you hiding under the bed. Unfortunately during the 4th game, the marble game. Your friend decided to back stab you and cause you to lose the game.

She was allowed to leave and you were told to stay behind, you thought they were going to shoot you but they drag you into somewhere in the facility.

You were screaming and begging them to let you go, and you were pushed into a luxurious room inside a bed night stand and a man wearing an expensive brown suit and was wearing a deer mask facing the other way so his back was facing you.

"I'm so glad I've got to meet you again my love" he's voice sounds familiar, "it's a shame you don't recognize me have you forgotten my voice after those years being apart because the only thing that has kept me sane was your voice".

The man took off revealing it was your ex husband zhongli, you guys divorce about three years ago how possessive he was with you, unwilling for you to let you go anywhere but home saying it was dangerous.

He was a famous consultant when you guys were married and you both were living comfortably, until your divorce and you heard that he joined the army for 2 years and after leaving he managed to climb himself into the world of the elite reaching fortunes of those Unimaginable.

He seems way more taller and muscular since the last time you saw him maybe he's been working out. As well growing his hair to the point of reaching his back side.

He approach you and envelopes you into a large bear hug, saying how much he misses you and loves you. While you're there just shock contemplating why he is here in this game as well knowing where you were.

And the entire time he was also saying how he was right and the world is a dangerous place as well saying you would have been with him and not be in this game. He was about to give you a kiss until you pushed him to create some distance from him.

You ask him why he was here, and he answered that his friend "childe" tip him off about an entertainment experience that was once in a lifetime to enjoy. And that's how he became a vip to the squid game, he originally wasn't fond of these games but he was glad he came because he saw you on the list of participants. And now he's here to save you and bring you back home

He said he could clear the debt, saying that the debt of 100 million mora wouldn't make a dent in his fortune it was just a small amount as well about the dealings of the illegal casino saying his friends own it and will pay off the debt as long as he gets to have you back.

Without a choice you decided to take him back, and he enveloped you to his embrace as well kissing your lips. He walks you both towards the bed and pins you down.

He grabs the deer mask that was put on the night stand and puts it on your face and then he undresses you from the jump suit "let's get you out of these dirty clothes".

He's more muscular, more broader and much more stronger as well having some experience in the bedroom after you guys divorce, I mean he would usually imagine the ones who were underneath him was you.

As well as having more stamina since the military training, leaving you breathless and thoughtless after the deed was done. After 3 years apart he must have been pent up a lot. Admiring and memorising your figure as well singing praises about your screams of pleasure and how he misses it.

After some time you receive some high end clothing from the guards as well having your own golden mask. You and him walk arm on arm in link together as if the universe doesn't want to separate you again and you guys take a seat watching the last player fight for the Fortune.

[aninipanin1]

manager reader stubbornly going to work despite being sick, and the masters (+ego if possible👀👀👀) arguing over who gets to take care of reader, and an additional time too if you can😕😕💓💓🙏🙏🙏 I LOVE UR WORKS PLS DO MORE ILYYY

-I'll be "lavinho's biggest fan💯"

STUBBORN

Notes: Oof I get this a lot as someone who gets sick so easily. AND WELCOME ANON! Hope you enjoy!

Sniff

Your reflex kicked into sniff as you zoned out, staring on the walls of your small room/office in the facility. You found yourself still sitting on your bed, not finding the usual strength to immediately stand up and start the day.

You are usually the first one to wake up and move around the facility (also the last one to sleep except for Ego, but he doesn't sleep, so), however, today the usual drive to stand up a do your work is gone.

It was mainly because you had a very painful and distracting headache, along with a cold. The clogged nose, sore throat, heavy body, and headache all add up to prevent you from even standing up from your position.

"Ugh...I can't not be sitting here..."

Knowing full well that the most basic things around the facility, such as the uniforms, food machine preparations, scheduling, and other miscellaneous chores are your responsibilities and the fact that the players would probably not survive without you for a day, you forced yourself to stand up.

Putting your hair in a lazy hairstyle along with your tracksuit, you started to move around the facility and doing preparations before anyone woke up like always.

Sniff

Your nose was clogged as hell, which was uncomfortable, adding to that was the fact you had to always dig deep in your pockets to get a clean tissue was pissing you off.

Your patience was definitely shorter than normal, all because of the fact you are not feeling well. And at that, you should have known not to stand up.

"Y/n-san! Can you help me- Oh, are you okay?"

Otoya ran from the field about to take off his cleats to ask you how to fix the soles until he saw how pale and weak you looked. He stopped in his question, a little worried that you do not look like you usually do.

You were usually active and full of vigour. Running around the large facility, facing responsibilities head on with a kind countenance and a clear want for the project to succeed.

However, now you looked like a zombie arisen from the grave. Lips and skin paler than usual, eyebags very prominent, and the light in your eyes a little dimmer like you are about to fall down.

"Hm? Yes, Otoya? Do you need anything?"

"Um, no, it's fine. You should rest, Y/n-san. You don't look too good."

"Oh, no, no. I'm fine. Uh, I already drank medicine and all." You shook your head with a smile, but you can not lie. You feel so dizzy that even moving your head a bit makes you feel nauseous.

"Y/N-SAN!! YOU'RE HEREEEE!"

A familiar voice celebrated before you feel two tight arms wrapping around you, before being swayed around.

Normally, you loved Bachira's energetic personality and warm hugs. But, the movement and sudden loudness made your headache and dizziness worse, your nausea more prominent, and the fatigue in your muscles heavier.

"Bachira, I don't think-"

"Oi, blondie. Stop that."

Just as Otoya was about to reprimand the Bachira, Lavinho stepped in and dragged the boy by the collar of his overalls, his tone and face a little more serious.

He has been observing you for a while now, and seeing you near on swaying instead of walking definitely got him worried. He ran to your side, hand supporting your lower back.

"I think you should take a rest for today, cariño."

"Oh, no, no. 'M fine, Lavinho-san. No biggie!" However, your throat decided to betray you, letting out a cough, your eyes tearing up due to the impact of it.

Lavinho wrapped an arm around you before helping you wipe the tear that formed on the waterline of your eyes as gently as he can.

"You okay?"

"Yep...I'll be fine..." You managed to let out, breaking from the Spanish master's hold as you exited the field, waving them goodbye.

"I'll be at the English Stratum if you all need anything!"

"Wait-!"

But you were already gone, leaving everyone worried.

"Will she be okay?" Bachira inquired, to which everyone just shook their heads off.

"No. But you know how Y/n-san is when it comes to her work. She works hard to prove her worth to not just everybody else but to her self as well." Otoya answered.

On your way to the next stratum, you feel your vision blur even more, making your body sway even more. When the doors to the field open, you find yourself holding unto the sides of the door.

"Y/n-san!" You can hear one of the players greet you, but you could not focus on anything but the ache of your body.

Finally, as if your system wanted to spare you from the pain of everything, it finally shut down.

thud

The players all looked in shock as you suddenly fell to the ground, face first on the grassy field. Unmoving, and pale as snow.

"Y/N-SAN!!" All the players immediately ran to where you were.

"Y/n-san!! Are you okay?!" Reo said as he helped Chigiri position you better. The redhead turns you around and makes you rest your head on his lap.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" Chris also ran to them, looking at your unconscious form. He put his hand on your forehead and recoiled it the moment he touched it.

"She's burning up!"

"We have to get her to the nurse's office then." Nagi, who was wide awake, stated as the players watch their master carry you princess style out of the field.

"I'll alert the nurse!" Agi said as he rushed off to the halls before Chris. Meanwhile, the players could not find it in themselves to continue training as they ran after them.

"W-what..."

You slowly opened your eyes, groaning and flinching a bit due to the unbearable headache and even more unbearable ache in your joints as you try to stand up from the bed.

"Don't stand up! You need to lie down and rest." You felt a hand rest on your shoulder.

"Chris-san...what...what happened to me? Where am I?" You asked the blonde striker who was sitting beside you on the bed.

"In the nurse office. You fainted earlier because of your fever."

"Oh..." you muttered, playing with the fabric of the blanket. It was not surprising that you are sick, but you are a little embarassed for fainting in front of everyone and having them to help you.

"I'm sorry for the burden-"

But he put his finger on your lips before a smile appeared on his face, fixing the towel on your forehead.

"Don't be. You work too hard for all of us, rest."

"What are you doing here?"

Snuffy just heard of the commotion connected to you, and he found himself walking to the nurses office. But, he stopped the moment he stepped in an intersection, and there he met eye to eye with the other masters.

He could not help the icy cold glare that built in him, and he gave to the other masters. It was not like he was the only one doing it as Lavinho, Chris and even Noa had that look in their eyes that showed they were not happy to see the others.

"Why are you even here? The German Stratum is far from here." Chris said, trying to intimidate Noa. But the number one striker did not budge and instead just answered the question flatly.

"I'm visiting Y/n. She may need assistance." That pissed off Chris while Lavinho just laughed.

"The robot man finally seems to show care, huh? You're just going to scare her off either way, number 1." Lavinho tried to push back with words.

"You two are childish and are taking time away when it is onvious she needs help." Noa clapbacked as he just slightly glared at both Chris and Lavinho.

Mranwhile, Snuffy just went past by the three of them while chuckling.

"You three can continue arguing. I'll be the one to help Y/n instead."

That seemed to alert the two who started the fight as they raced Snuffy, who was already way ahead of them. Meanwhile, Noa just shook his head, muttering about how childish they were and just walked to the nurse's office.

When they all arrived at the same time (except Noa, who arrived a minute later), panting and ready to be the prince charming of the day to you, their eyes widened.

You were a bit surprised at the sudden ruckus at the door. You turned your head to it and found the four master strikers all at the door. A smile found your face as you greeted them as warmly as you can.

"Oh, hello! Um...what were you guys doing..?"

"Nothing!"

"Not much! Not much!" They said, embarassed while glaring at the spot beside your bed. Instead of it being empty like they hoped it was, it was already occupied by a certain glasses wearing bowl cut director of Blue Lock.

Ego heard of you being sick from Anri. And the moment he heard it, he heaved a sigh and just walked out from his room, which surprised Anri but just shook it off, a mischievous smile on her face.

Currently, he was the one who cooked you a warm bowl or ramen (he staved off from putting anything unhealthy in it and put eggs instead) as well as a fresh and washed bowl of fruits from the canteen.

He may be a little grumpy when you sheepishly ask him of something, but he was kind enough (surprisingly) to do it. He had even replaced the rag on your forehead with another one, as well as help you sit up on the bed to eat.

"What is he doing here?" Snuffy asked with a strained smile, as his eyes sharpened at Ego who did not seem to care at all, just adjusting his square shaped glasses.

"Oh, Ego-san was kind enough to visit me and help me get the things I need to be! He said he can work from here for a few days, and Anri-san will work out the rest around the facility!" You said, voice still rough and fatigued.

"So rest, you idiot. Your overworking is not helping your damn case. Who in the hell starts work at 5 AM and finishes at 12 AM, you stupid girl." Ego exasperated before flicking your nose with his long fingers which made you flinch.

After that, Ego turned to the four masters and glared at them.

"You four can get back to those kids. I can handle things from here." He said, as his cold eyes did not seem to match the small, cheshire like grin on his face as if he was mocking them.

'I win this time.'

ADDITIONAL TIME:

BASTARD MUNCHEN

"And there he goes again." Yukimiya commented as everyone's eyes watched Noa exit the field to head off somewhere.

"He's probably visiting Y/n-san again." Hiori snickered, remembering that the masters (as well as Ego) made a pact to separate the time on who will nurse you until you got better.

"It's kind of surprising to see him invested in this thing. He's usually just like this with football." Kaiser rolled his eyes at the master, finding him pathetic for seemingly groveling to someone. And even more pathetic for thinking he can EVER match with someone like you.

"The nurses can't even do her damn job because of those five." Hiori remembered visiting you. And the poor nurse was just off to the side, sweatdropping as Chris Prince fed you with your lunch when it was obviously her job to take care of anyone sick in the facility.

"Hey. She can't complain. At least she gets paid without having to actually work." Isagi added, sitting beside them and sipping on his tumbler. It was a bit of a struggle to have to refill their water bottles themselves since you were not available. But, hey. At least you are getting your well deserved rest!

"Of course you would say that, Yoichi. You sound like a manipulative bastard." Kaiser commented with a haughty laugh before walking off, which pissed the raven haired striker.

"Come say that to my face, you asshole!"

BARCHA

"NO! I'LL TAKE CARE OF HER!"

"TOO LATE BLONDIE!" Lavinho laughed as the door automatically slum shut on Bachira's face as the master ran off to the nurse's office.

What were they doing? Well, Bachira was less than happy to find out it was the masters taking care of you instead of the nurse. So, he would always argue with the old man to leave you alone and that he will take care of you instead.

But the master has already learned the art of escaping from the boy and will always succeed in running off to you, much to Bachira's chagrin.

"It's kinda funny how pathetic they all are for Y/n-san." Otoya snickered like a gossip girl. It was always entertaining to watch the masters act like protective boyfriends to you as if they think it will make you less oblivious and it will make you like one of them more than the others.

"Well, I guess they would not beat the allegations just yet of Y/n-san having them as a harem." Kitsunezato shrugged before returning to practice.

MANSHINE CITY

"I swear, that guy can be irresponsible and unpredictable at times." Chigiri rolled his eyes as he, Reo, and Nagi watched from the cafeteria Chris, who ran past the doors to head to you as if he was not just complaining about being hungry earlier.

"Leave him be. That's the only way he can compete with the other masters anyway when it comes to romance. Eat your food, Nagi." Reo sweatdropped at the white-haired striker that refused to eat.

"Mm...do you really not have any trust on our master to win Y/n-san? I mean...he is succesful and not bad looking." Nagi muttered, lazily opening his mouth to eat a piece of steak. Chigiri laughed at the question while Reo just looked on unimpressed.

"Well, Noa is the number one striker in the world which counts for something, and he is smart and logical to a fault, which is good in a guy. Snuffy is kind and approachable and has that paternal energy that girls love. Lavinho is very popular with the fan girls with his attitude and wild looks. What does Chris have?"

"I swear, you have to be Chris' number one hater." The redhead rolled his eyes while eating his food, a little unsurprised since the beginning, he was always the one opposing any relationship between you and any of the masters, especially his own.

"Puhlease. I just want the best and perfect guy for Y/n-san. A woman like her deserves one who will care and love her unconditionally, none of the immature celebrity bs I hear from the news and see when I am in rich people events."

UBERS

"Never mind, he's just as worst as all of them." Barou commented after Snuffy just left the field to head to the nurse's office. Aiku laughed at this and just shrugged.

"Hey, a man in love does not care about how pathetic he looks."

"What do you know about being in love, you asshole of a playboy?" Niko commented savagely, not even sparing a glance at Aiku who held his chest as if a hypothetical arrow hit his heart at the remark.

"Hey! I can love too. What do you think of me, a robot?"

"Nope, just a ruthless bastard." Niko retorted.

"A disrespectful jerk to woman." Barou added.

"Hey! Can you two stop bullying me." Aiku said, a little bit offended. Barou just sighed and turn his face away back to the door.

"Hey! It doesn't matter... I will give all my teeth to Ms. Y/n if I could to show my gratitude hehe~ I have never seen Snuffy that alive before!" Lorenzo laughed like a maniac, twisting his body like a snake at the grumpy Barou.

"Get your disgusting chompers away from Y/n-san, you disgusting rat."

PXG

"I feel kinda left out and not at the same time." Loki said with a confused smile when he finally found out the reason why there are times where some of the other masters were not around was because for the past few days they have been taking care of you.

"Don't be! It's better to watch as an audience than participate." Charles laughed like a giddy teen who is involved in a gossip session.

"I know. Kinda funny how pathetic those grown men can be." Julian just shrugged.

"Hey! They're old men about to expire. they're desperate for love." Shidou laughed alongside Charles. Loki knew that although it could be true, it was not the reason why they acted that way. He genuinely thinks that they feel deeper than attraction nor a necessity to find love soon.

He had interacted with them before, and they were never like this, certainly. So they definitely feel something for you if they act like this.

"Who cares anyways? They have to try their damn hardest to even qualify for Y/n-san." Rin said, before walking away to the showers. Loki just laughed at the comment before nodding his head.

"Yeah... they really do."

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[wandascrush]

Is it really you?

Pairing: Sharon Carter x f!reader, Avengers x f!reader, Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, HYDRA x f!reader

Part 11 of the DIWK series!

Tag list: @esposadejoyhuerta @kissesfornat @ayrtonwilbury @casquinhaa @womenarehotsstuff @caffeine-pup @seventeen-x @blacatto

Warnings: violence, murder, guns, blood, explosions, fire

It had taken Sharon four months, but she finally found you.

The lead had come from a corrupt Europol contact—one she had to break fingers to get talking.

A flash drive, encrypted with information on something called Project Nightshade. HYDRA had set up an operation deep in the Carpathian Mountains. Remote. Isolated. Off the grid. The kind of place you disappear into and never come out.

It was only when she finished reading that she realized you were the project.

Carter spent weeks monitoring the perimeter, tracking movements, listening to intercepted comms. The base was heavily fortified, tighter than even some old SHIELD black sites. HYDRA wasn't just hiding a prisoner.

They were hiding a prized possession. They were hiding you- Asset Nightshade.

Cold hands tightened around the scope of her sniper rifle, positioned on a high ridge overlooking the facility. She had no backup, no official sanction. Just herself, her weapons, and you at the end of this mission.

She peered through her scope, scanning the compound’s exterior.

Armed patrols at every entrance. Sniper nests on the rooftops.

Security drones circling the perimeter.

Getting in was going to be a nightmare.

Getting out with you?

Even worse.

Her earpiece crackled—an old mercenary contact she had bribed for blueprints.

"Carter, you got about a ten-minute window during shift rotation. After that, they lock it down tight."

Sharon exhaled slowly, lowering her rifle.

Ten minutes. That was all she’d have.

"Ten’s all I need," she muttered, pulling down her mask and slipping down the ridge.

Sharon moved through the forest like a shadow, boots silent against the damp ground. The air was sharp with the scent of pine and rain-soaked earth. She timed her movements with the shifting patrols, slipping between blind spots, ducking beneath sensor towers.

The moment the guard at the back exit turned his head, she struck.

A knife to the throat.

A quiet, clean kill.

She dragged his body into the shadows, stripping him of his access card.

——————-

The facility was a fortress. Deep underground, lined with reinforced steel, the kind of place where things went in and never came out.

But Sharon wasn’t looking for a way in.

She was looking for a way out.

She found you in a cell guarded by two burly men—

The guards fell easily. It was almost disappointing.

You didn’t react when the cell door hissed open.

You should. Your training demands it. But there’s no tension in your shoulders, no shift in posture. Just blankness.

You sit on the metal cot, hands resting on your thighs, still as stone.

Sharon steps in, gun raised, breath tight in her chest.

She barely recognizes you.

Your hair is damp, messy from sweat. Your face thinner. Shadows cling to the hollows of your cheeks, and bruises bloom beneath your skin like wilted roses. But still, Sharon thinks to herself, still beautiful.

“Y/N,” she whispered, her voice tight with urgency.

Your head lifted slightly, eyes unfocused.

Recognition flickered—but not enough.

Sharon’s stomach twisted. They had done something to you.

She knelt beside you, hands gripping your face. “Listen to me. It’s me. It’s Sharon.”

You blinked slowly.

“You’re an intruder.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

“No, no, no. Not an intruder, L/N.”

A flicker of softness flashed in your eyes, a moment of recognition from your last name.

Sharon’s voice softens, but only for a second, “Yeah babe, that’s right. It’s me, I’m your friend. And we need to move.”

When you didn’t immediately stand, she pulled you up, throwing your arm over her shoulder.

The moment your legs buckled, she knew—they had weakened you. Drugged you. Rebuilt you.

But they hadn’t taken all of you.

Not yet.

Sharon shoved a gun into your shaking hands. She trusted you wouldn’t hurt her.

“Think you can still shoot?”

Your fingers curled around the grip automatically. Muscle memory. Second nature.

You exhaled shakily.

She watches as your hands flex—calm, methodical—ready for a fight if need be. But there’s no recognition in your face.

No hesitation.

No warmth.

Only the mechanical precision of a weapon awaiting orders.

She swallows hard, her heart breaking in real time.

“Lets get the fuck out of here.”

Your gaze flickers, an almost imperceptible shift, but she catches it

A small crack.

But then, just as quickly, it’s gone.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say flatly.

Sharon doesn’t hesitate.

She raises her gun and aims it right at your forehead.

“You don’t get a choice.”

Her voice is firm, her grip steady. But inside, she’s terrified.

The alarm blasts through the facility and chaos erupts. The sound of boots running starts to grow close.

They know. Fuck, they’re coming.

Sharon curses under her breath, grabbing your wrist. “Move.”

You don’t resist. Not exactly. But you don’t comply either. Your training demands submission to orders—and right now, there are two voices in your head.

One is Sharon Carter.

The other is the voice of HYDRA. Your maker.

Your steps are too silent, too controlled, moving like a predator as she drags you through the corridors. No fear. No hesitation.

Even in escape, you are efficient.

A beauty designed to obey.

Shots whiz past, bullets pinging off the metal walls as guards flood into the corridors.

Sharon ducks behind cover, returns fire with deadly precision, taking out two men before yanking you down with her. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps. “Help me!”

But you just stare at her.

Your fingers flex—your mind foggy, uncertain. You were always trained to protect, to fight.

And then—

A voice crackles through the HYDRA comms, sharp and authoritative.

“Agent Nightshade. Don’t disobey your makers.”

Your body seizes. Breath hitching.

Another, sickly sweet voice cracks through the comms, “Sister’s Keeper.”

In an instant—your brain goes blank.

Sharon sees it happen. Watches the point of control in your eyes get ripped away.

You strike first.

A kick, inhumanly fast, meant to take her down.

Sharon barely blocks, stumbling backward, disbelief flooding her veins.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N!”

But you’re already moving.

It’s like you can’t even hear her.

Her gun is kicked from her hands before she can react.

The fight is brutal. Precise. You don’t miss.

But neither does she.

You were trained together, years ago. Before the Avengers. Before the lies. Before all of this shit.

Sharon knows your patterns like the back of her hand.

But this dark, grimey, underworld has changed you.

She blocks a blow aimed for her throat—

And makes a split-second decision.

She doesn’t dodge.

Your fist slams into her jaw, and she crumples.

You stand over her, chest heaving, fingers trembling. Your body stills. Your mind flickers. The world slows.

Sharon Carter is on the ground.

You put her there.

The fog in your brain stumbles, just slightly. Something pangs in your chest, not physical pain. But sadness.

Her voice, hoarse, breaks through the static.

“You’re still in there.”

Your vision swims. The alarms blare.

Sharon reaches up, pressing something into your palm. A small silver device.

A trigger.

She gasps, coughing from the impact, but her eyes never leave yours.

“Press it, Y/N.”

Both sides of you are screaming

You press it. And the entire HYDRA facility explodes.

The walls around you shudder, a deep groan echoing through the underground facility as fire licks up the hallways, chasing oxygen like a starving animal.

You’re still standing. Somehow.

Your breath comes out in ragged gasps, and something unfamiliar twists in your chest.

Emotion.

The numbness isn’t gone—but it’s cracking. Fractured.

And Sharon is still there.

She’s coughing, one hand pressed to her ribs, but she’s alive. Alive because you didn’t finish the fight. Alive because you stopped.

She stares at you through the smoke.

“Y/N,” she rasps, voice fraying at the edges. “We have to move.”

You hesitate.

Your body can’t move. The trigger words won’t allow it.

But the base is burning. Second by second, the walls crumble and flame.

And the only voice left in your head now is hers. Samantha’s.

Sharon knows she has little to no time left, and in your frozen state she whips the back of your head with her gun. Your limp body is practically thrown over her shoulder like a rag.

She carries you through the ruins of your prison, her legs are so tired they nearly give out.

You two are so close to an exit tunnel when someone pops out of the smoke and dust.

A slow clap echoes throughout the burning hallways.

“Touching,” Samantha’s voice coos, sickly sweet and venomous. “The rogue little blonde came all this way for the broken one.”

Sharon’s spine goes rigid.

Still holding you in one arm, she slowly reaches into the back of her belt with the other—fingers wrapping around the grip of her sidearm.

Samantha steps through the hallway, firelight dancing along the steel of her knife.

“I should’ve known you’d come for her,” Samantha muses, circling closer. “I always wondered what happened to that little SHIELD rat. The one who didn’t quite belong anywhere. Auntie Peggy must be oh-so disappointed.” She feigns a pout.

“Funny,” Sharon murmurs, rising to her feet and easing your unconscious body gently behind a half-fallen support beam. Her voice is steady. Low. Lethal. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Samantha grins. “She was always going to belong to us. You never stood a chance. Project Nightshade has been years in the making. By coincidence, Y/N came to us, betrayed us, and became our perfect weapon. It was meant to be.”

Sharon lifts her gun.

Samantha lunges.

It’s fast—almost too fast—but Sharon is faster.

The first bullet catches Samantha in the side.

The second one lands in her leg.

She stumbles, but keeps coming, teeth bared, blade flashing. “She’s ours”

Sharon ducks the swing, slams her boot into Samantha’s knee, right as a knife plunges itself into her ribs. A scream rips from her throat but she doesn’t stop, and fires again—this time point-blank.

The bullet tears through her chest.

Samantha staggers, choking on blood.

“I used to tell her about monsters like you,” the blonde slowly walks to look over Samantha’s body.

She tries to speak, but blood is gurgling out of her mouth and nose.

Sharon puts her last bullet between Samantha’s eyes.

She doesn’t look back.

[hope-for-the-planet]

From the article:

The [green hydrogen] facility has become an example of how oil-rich states like Texas — which leads the nation in annual wind power production and is behind only California in annual solar power production — are buying into the renewable energy boom. Much of this investment was spurred by former President Joe Biden’s administration and his legislative goals, such as the roughly $500 billion that Congress set aside through its approval of the bipartisan Inflation Reduction Act in 2022.   This eagerness to invest in renewable energy has come at a time when climate change has driven average global temperatures to roughly 1.1 degrees Celsius (and steadily climbing) above pre-industrial levels. To stave off the worst of the ongoing climate crisis’s effects, domestically and abroad, renewable sources like green hydrogen bear promise, scientists say. And that promise is already being fulfilled in nations like China, Saudi Arabia, and Sweden, all of whom are global leaders in green hydrogen production facilities that are in final planning or financing phases, according to a hydrogen projects data tracker published by the International Energy Agency last year.  Meanwhile, in the U.S., some 67 green hydrogen projects are planned through at least 2029, according to an energy transition paper published by the workforce solutions company Airswift.  The alternative fuel has always had promise, says Dr. Alan Lloyd, a renewable energy researcher at the University of Texas. It’s not a future pipe dream, he adds. But rather, now, “it’s happening.”

[snowleopardcrk]

baau post LOL

The Shell, typically made of various natural stones fused together to create a sturdy structure or 'shell' for the inner magical components that power the colossal shield.

The Amp. Core, found in the middle of the node takes the concentrated beam of magic and 'excites' the particles flowing thru it. The heat this process produces is siphoned thru numerous wires embedded into the stone and transported via pipe into a powerplant.

Ground Core, the free floating magic is concentrated just enough to shoot the magic out as a beam.

The Spout, is where the final beam exits the node. This magic energy is dispersed thru out the colossal shield. The energy is directed automatically via special magic runes.

The Power Station, the facility found on the ground and near 2 of the 5 active nodes produces energy for the whole republic. They make use of massive turbines that are heated by the nodes whilst using the salty waters of the nearby sea. It is the turbines that produce the power, additionally, the heated water is separated from the salt during this process in a separate tank before it proceeds into the reactors.

"Did some cookie in a silly costume and a gem take your power too?" "It ssspeaksss?!"

This is Moonflower Cookies "familiar", a strangely small and very ancient being that might pre-date Cookiekind itself. Once a mighty world serpent reduced to something as small as a long cat.

Moonflower Cookie herself has risen the ranks of the Creme Republic. She has no real family left, aside from the occasional visit to Midnight Lily. But, growing busy with the Republic those visits are less frequent.

She has built bonds with some Cookies who she stumbled upon on her short travels (Princess Cookie and her gang) but for the mage, it is fleeting. She spends her days working on the shield that protects the republic and doing her own research.

=== (wip)

'Runaways, hm?' Moonflower Cookie hummed, stirring the pot of soup. 'Yeah...' Princess Cookie mumbled, slumping over the table slightly. 'If you lot need to crash, or some food and rest. My doors are open.' She said, dumping some vegetables into the pot. 'Ah, thank you! We appreciate your kindness.' Knight Cookie chirped with a smile. 'You can crash anytime, you know?' Moonflower Cookie mentioned. 'How's your father, Princess Cookie?' She continued quizzically. Princess Cookie sighed, leaning back in her chair. 'He's holding up I guess.. At least he has mom.' She said, resting her face on her hand. 'Being lonely and stuck is a far worse fate..' Moonflower shrugged, stirring the pot.

Pitaya Cookie grunted out of annoyance. 'Ssstop tugging on my tail!' He hissed, turning his head. 'A clean cut... Who did this to you? Must be... humiliating.' The little four legged serpent chuckled. 'It wouldn't be that if you weren't tugging on it.' Pitaya snapped back, flicking his tail to try and shake the other off. Moonflower Cookie sighed. 'Seriously, Angus?' She sighed, rolling her eyes.

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽️

VERSION XVII.

(a/n: I did this baby dirty too 😭 first of all how did blue turn into purple. second of all—idk i guess not reading the manga in a while had an impact on me but still 😔 try to enjoy it and tyy for ur support ❤️)

Warning-none

wc: 0,6k (apologies for the Nanase fans)

also: @ttheggrimrreaper @irethepotato @ohagiyoo 🫶

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

"Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number...

…17, Nanase Nijiro.”

Not wanting to be late to your first meeting with the boy, you hurriedly went out the exit door, sprinting down the hallway to the managers’ room to collect your things from Anri.

She congratulated you, handing a stack of folders, a pair of new uniforms finished with a timetable. Offering you a small smile and a quick goodbye, she directed you to where he currently was.

Walking to the field, you tried your best to balance all the things in your hands, making sure not to trip, right before bumping into someone. While rubbing your now aching forehead, an embarrassed “sorry” left your mouth. Wow, what a great way to start the day.

Imagine being Nanase Nijiro’s manager.

——————

Nanase Nijiro who’s coincidentally the person you managed to crash into with him also apologizing for the accident, quickly helping you pick up the papers that fell out from the folders before his fingers brushed over a printed picture that resembled his own face.

With surprised eyes, he let out an awkward laugh, lifting the paper sheet, and putting it next to his face to get your attention. Minutes passed as you two giggled while cleaning up the mess on the floor.

“What are the chances?” you smiled, thanking him again for the help as he offered to carry your things back to the field, walking together while talking like long-time friends.

——————

•Nanase who respects you—a lot, and takes great responsibility in caring for you. The first thing he does in the mornings is to give you a deep bow with a loud greeting, and to ensure that you always eat breakfast together before starting the day.

•He always tell you everything. Finds it extremely important that you know and agree to what he does, afraid of disappointing, or causing you trouble. Strictly follows the rules, and fully puts his trust in you to make him a better player.

•Working with him is a blast, he’s very nice and friendly to everyone, making you the black cat in the dynamic—eyeing everyone who even tries to hurt, or offend him while he takes the role of being the golden retriever who’s just simply excited to play soccer under your surveillance.

•Definition of a literal ray of sunshine, he genuinely cherishes the fact he has a manager who looks after him and all that. Always calls you manager-san, and corrects anyone who calls you by the wrong title. Your number one simp, he takes immense pride in being your player.

•Nanase who never lets you carry your own things even after playing in multiple exhausting matches—bag, clipboard, water bottle, anything really that’s heavier than your keys, just leave it to him. All you need to do is talk and praise him for his skills.

•Takes training very seriously from the beginning, trying his hardest not to get kicked out. Discussing plans and late night analyses are frequent and he actively takes part in all of them.

•Nanase makes a couple of friends who are—to your relief—just as nice as him during his time in the facility. Fortunately, he has players who he can get along with besides you, hoping to learn from them as well.

•Funny enough, he’s also your daily reminder to hydrate. Whenever you hand him his water bottle, he’ll ask if you’ve had any liquid yet, taking care of you in his own way yet again.

•Very careful not to mess up his schedule so you never have to scold him for anything significant. Tries to help with paperwork but ends up dozing off, making you smile every time he does this. He’s just there for mental support but it means a lot :)

——————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Nanase who witnessed the showdown between Japan’s team and Blue Lock is determined to get better—to play in a match himself, proving his worth on the field. Trains day and night, putting in a lot of effort to improve.

•As much as you tried to figure out another way, you have to admit that under Rin’s guidance, he becomes a lot stronger as an individual, his mentality getting stronger as well—even discovering the fact that he’s ambidextrous, giving him an advantage in games.

•You are by his side 24/7, making sure he doesn’t overwork himself all while loudly supporting, and cheering him on from the sidelines, praying that he’s gonna make it to the top.

•Stays just as nice to you even after all the fame he’s gained, and has a very kind fanbase. Pays great attention when you’re media training him but no worries. He’s a careful athlete whose image is probably cleaner than Barou’s room.

•Fans adore the way he always stiffens for a moment whenever he thinks he messed up a question before looking for you behind the cameras, gaining the title—doe-eyed Nijiro.

[kk095]

The Clinical Trial

The sterile, sleek white walls of the research facility gleam under recessed lighting, giving the space an ultramodern, almost futuristic vibe. Everything is clean, clinical, and controlled. The faint hum of machines and the soft tap of footsteps on polished floors echo in the otherwise hushed corridor.

Dr Lindsay Wilkes steps through the frosted glass entryway doors with a small smile tugging at her lips. Dressed in a fitted gray blazer over a white casual top, dark jeans, and her usual quiet confidence, she looks more like a visiting speaker than a test subject. Her light brown hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, and a thin silver necklace rests just above her collarbones.

Waiting for her near the intake desk are the trio running the clinical trial.

Dr Anna- early 40s, commanding presence, jet black hair pinned in a French twist, is the first to greet her. “Dr Wilkes” she begins, voice smooth and welcoming. “We’re honored to have you here. Your impressive background makes you a perfect candidate.” Dr Anna compliments.

Next to her is Dr Olivia, younger- in her early 30s, and a touch more energetic, all sharp cheekbones and quick glances, followed by Nurse Ashley – blonde, polished, clipboard in hand, her smile just a little too wide. “We’re big fans of yours. ER doctors make the most interesting subjects.” Ashley adds. Lindsay laughs lightly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, I’m just excited to be a part of this. I’ve been reading up on your work- it’s absolutely fascinating.” Lindsay replies enthusiastically.

“Oh, Cardexor has the potential to change the game.” Dr Anna replies, referencing her experimental medication without hesitation. “Performance enhancement, cardiac precision, stamina… all by gently modulating ion flow. You’re going to be part of history!” Dr Anna boasts.

The trio guides Dr Lindsay down a pristine hallway to a large, open exam room. Inside, the air smells faintly of antiseptic and ozone. A sleek white bed sits beneath a wall mounted monitor.

“Alright, Lindsay.” Nurse Ashley says, setting her clipboard down on a nearby countertop “we’ll have you get out of your clothes now. You can leave your personal items on the tray beside the bed.” The nurse instructs Lindsay.

The ER doc nods and starts to remove her blazer and shoes, then peels off her jeans, folding them neatly. Within moments, she’s barefoot on the cool tile floor, clad only in a gray sports bra and compression shorts. The silver necklace still rests around her neck- a small piece of personal flair amid the clinical setting.

Lindsay hops onto the exam table, sitting upright as sticky ECG leads are applied across her chest and torso. The monitor lights up with a steady rhythm- normal sinus. IV lines are started, her blood pressure is taken. Everything checks out. Everything’s good to go. Dr Olivia studies the monitor. “Vitals are solid. Baseline EKG is clean. You’re textbook, Dr Lindsay.”

Lindsay grins. “Let’s hope I stay that way!”

Dr Anna offers a nod, though her expression doesn’t quite match the enthusiasm. “We’ll begin the first infusion shortly. Just relax. If anything feels off at any point, speak up. This is cutting-edge science, but you’re still in control.” Anna tells Lindsay.

The team exits momentarily to prepare the first dose, leaving Lindsay alone on the table, feet dangling slightly, watching the quiet green blips on the monitor. She seems calm and confident. She has no idea that her name will soon be the third entry in a growing list.

Dr Lindsay reclines slightly on the padded exam table, IV already in place. The ultramodern room remains relatively calm, with faint mechanical beeps from the heart monitor and the subtle hiss of the air conditioning from a vent in the ceiling. A flat-panel screen nearby glows with her live vitals- all still perfectly normal. Her blazer is neatly folded on a nearby chair. Barefoot, dressed down to a charcoal gray sports bra and black compression shorts, she looks more like a training athlete than an ER physician about to become a patient.

Dr Anna re-enters the room and steps up with a small vial of clear liquid, hooking it to the IV line, careful and precise in her movements. “This is it- Cardexor, the newest evolution in cardiac modulation.” she tells Lindsay with an excited smile, though there’s a flicker of something unreadable in her expression. “You’re officially our tenth volunteer in the trial!”

“Great, double digits. Glad I get to be a part of this!” Lindsay says lightly, giving a small smile, eyes flicking toward the monitor, her vitals still normal.

Dr Olivia adjusts the infusion pump. “We’ll be starting with a conservative dose and monitoring for about twenty minutes. Most of the pharmacokinetics are pretty quick. You should start noticing some sensations within a few minutes.” Dr Olivia explains.

“Side effects?” Lindsay asks, watching the clear liquid drip down the line into her vein. “Tingling, maybe some lightheadedness. Nothing to be worried about.” Dr Olivia answers too quickly. Nurse Ashley, standing at the foot of the table, gives a practiced smile but avoids eye contact with Lindsay.

A few minutes pass. The room is quiet except for casual small talk and monitor beeps. Then…

“Hmm… I’m… feeling something…” Lindsay murmurs, brow furrowing slightly. “There’s a little tingling in my chest. Like pins and needles.” Continues Lindsay. Dr Anna nods, jotting something on a digital tablet. “That’s totally expected. That’s just the Cardexor fine-tuning those ion channels, nudging the signal transmission. All part of the process.” Dr Anna dismisses Lindsay’s symptoms. Lindsay shifts a little. “My head’s kind of floaty too, almost like I got up too fast.” Complains Lindsay. “You’re doing great, this is all normal.” Nurse Ashley says with gentle encouragement, though her eyes flick quickly to the monitor. Lindsay’s heart rate has crept up from 100bpm into the low 120s- just high enough to be noticeable, but not necessarily alarming.

Dr Olivia presses the back of her hand to Lindsay’s forehead. “No fever. Any tightness in your chest?” she asks. “No… just… pins and needles.” Lindsay breathes in slowly, and though she’s still calm, there’s a subtle tension in her voice now. “We’re right on track.” Dr Anna smiles, a little too tightly.

Lindsay closes her eyes for a moment, her brows raising ever so slightly as she took a slow, steadying breath. She was still trying to convince herself it was nothing- just her body adjusting, just nerves, perhaps. The fluttering in her chest lingered like an aftershock, faint but persistent.

A soft beep drew Ashley’s eyes to the monitor. Lindsay’s heart rate had climbed again- nothing dramatic, just a little higher than before. But it stayed there, holding steady at the new pace like it had found a rhythm it wasn’t supposed to. None of the women said anything. For a moment, the room was filled with an unnatural stillness, like the quiet just before a storm.

An hour or so passes since the infusion started. Lindsay sits upright on the exam table, legs extended and crossed at the ankles, her bare heel resting on the padded surface. She rubs her sternum with the heel of her hand, the gesture casual at first, then more deliberate. “There’s this weird tightness now…” she tells the team, her tone light, but her eyes searching. “I also feel a pinch. Right in the center.” Continues Lindsay, gesturing to the location on her chest. Dr Olivia steps in with her usual serene smile. “That’s not uncommon. Some participants report transient chest sensations while the ion modulation stabilizes.” Olivia explains. “Transient?” Lindsay replies. Nurse Ashley adjusts the IV line, her movements smooth and practiced. The telemetry monitor gives a soft beep, a little quicker than it was earlier. Lindsay glances at the screen, noting the climb: heart rate hovering in the low 130s now. “Still sinus.” Anna informs, peering at the readout and tapping a few notes into the tablet. “We’ll push a little metoprolol just to keep things where we want them.” Instructs Dr Anna. Lindsay nods, overhearing them, breathing through another round of pins and needles. She shifts her shoulders and tries to relax, but the rhythm feels off inside her chest- like something ticking out of sync.

Then, just for a second, Lindsay catches a look. Olivia’s eyes flick to Anna, subtle, concerned, but enough to tighten something low in Lindsay’s gut. She offers a half-smile to cut the tension. “Okay… what was that look all about? I’m not gonna be toes up in the morgue anytime soon, am I?” Lindsay half-jokes. Anna chuckles. “God, no! You’re doing great. These are just fine-tuning effects. Your body’s just adapting. It means the compound is working.” Anna explains away.

Lindsay leans back a little, not totally convinced, but willing to believe it for now. “Alright. Just don’t let me die half naked in my compression shorts.” Quips Lindsay. They all laugh, perhaps a little too quickly.

Ashley hangs another saline flush, and the monitor continues its steady beep… beep… beep, like a ticking clock. Lindsay closes her eyes briefly, exhales, and rests her hand against her chest again. Something’s not right. But she doesn’t know just how wrong it’s about to get.

The clinical room, once sterile and composed, now buzzes with a subtle but unmistakable undercurrent of tension. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor had sped up, edging into a range that triggered the machine’s soft warning tones. Lindsay sat upright on the exam table, eyeing the monitors. A sheen of sweat began to form across her collarbones, and her breathing, while controlled, speeds up.

She presses the palm of her hand against her chest, fingertips trembling slightly. “I’m still feeling it…it’s worse…” she utters quietly. “It’s much sharper now- like a pinch just behind my sternum.” Adds Dr Lindsay, concern in her voice. Anna glances up from the monitor with a tight smile. “That’s probably the beta stimulation- it can happen at this stage.” Anna downplays Lindsay’s symptoms. Olivia stands beside her, cross-checking a second monitor. “Heart rate’s up, but still within protocol range.” She informs. “Still in protocol? That’s good.” Lindsay repeats, her voice flat, lips twitching into a weak half-smile.

She exhales and glances around the room. “Have you guys ever tested this on ER docs before? Or am I your guinea pig with a stethoscope?” jokes Dr Lindsay. Ashley chuckles softly from the IV station. “Nah, you’re our star subject! Clean vitals, athletic background- you’re ideal.” Ashley responds. But Lindsay wasn’t buying the reassurance this time. Her eyes flick over to the monitor again. The QRS complexes had widened. Her trained gaze pick up on it, even before the machine sounded another beep, this one more insistent.

She narrows her eyes. “Wait, that’s… V-tach.” Lindsay looks to Anna. “You’re seeing it too, right?” asks Lindsay. Anna hesitates for half a second- just long enough for Lindsay to catch it. “It’s a nonsustained run. We’re monitoring. You’re still stable.” Anna brushes it off. “Stable? That’s a curious word choice for this rhythm.” Lindsay firmly replies, her voice tighter now. Olivia busied herself at the bedside, adjusting the telemetry leads. “You’re still perfusing well. BP’s solid. Let’s get some fluids in, maybe push a touch of lidocaine.” Olivia chimes in.

Ashley moves efficiently, drawing up meds. The quiet hiss of saline through the IV port was almost drowned out by the monitor’s quickening beeps. Lindsay’s heart rate hovers just over 160- still with a pulse, still conscious, but each beat seemed more jagged than the last. “I’m not trying to be dramatic, but if this keeps up much longer, someone’s going to need the crash cart.” Lindsay murmurs to the team. Anna’s voice was gentle. “It’s ok. We have a protocol for situations like this.” Anna was clearly running out of things to say to dismiss Lindsay. Dr Lindsay turns her head slightly toward her. “You answered that a little too fast, Anna. What’s really going on here?!” Lindsay knows something’s off.

Another glance passes between Anna and Olivia- brief but tight.

“What was that look?! You did it again!” Lindsay shouts, more nervous this time. Olivia leaned closer, offering a steadying hand on Lindsay’s shoulder. “You’re fine. This is what the close monitoring is for. You’re in good hands.” Olivia tries to reassure. Lindsay gave a single nod, but her gaze drifted back to the monitor. The screen now showed a classic wide-complex tachycardia, consistent with sustained V-tach. Her expression remained composed, but her breathing had deepened, a thin tremor in her arms now visible. “Okay… stay strong, Linds…” she whispers, mostly to herself.

Several minutes pass, and the EKG monitor let out a steady whine as her heart continued to race inside her chest. Her breathing came in shallow, focused puffs. “I’m still with you…” she murmurs, glancing from one face to the next. “This is still manageable… right?” asks Lindsay, growing increasingly uneasy. Dr Anna didn’t answer immediately. She was at the head of the bed, eyes locked on the monitor. “V-tach, still with a pulse.” Anna confirms, more to Olivia and Ashley than to Lindsay. Dr Olivia steps to Lindsay’s side, readying the crash cart. “We need to cardiovert you. Now.” States Olivia. Lindsay’s eyes shift to the defibrillators, then back to Olivia. “Oh…” Lindsay utters. “Yep. We’re going to get this handled for you.” Ashley said, voice quick and clipped as she peels open a fresh pack of defib pads. “Synchronized. It won’t be fun.” Ashley adds.

“Are you sedating me?” Lindsay asks. A beat of silence passes. Dr Anna shook her head. “We can’t in your case. And you’re still responsive. It’ll hurt- but it’s absolutely necessary.” Anna explains, her tone more stern. Lindsay swallows hard, a flicker of fear behind her eyes, but she nods. “Do it.”

Ashley places the pads quickly- sternum and apex, while Olivia set the charge. Dr Anna presses gently but firmly on Lindsay’s shoulder to keep her still. “Lindsay, we’re going to shock you now, ok?” Informs Dr Anna. Lindsay just nods in response, her stare blank.

“Defibrillator is charged to 150 joules. Everyone stand clear for me.” Olivia calls out.

The first shock is delivered, and hits her like a freight train.

Lindsay’s chest shoots forward, her back bending a bit. A strangled cry exits from her throat- pure reflex. Her heel scraped along the thin mattress, toes curling hard, showing off the fresh white nail polish on her toes along with the thin, wavy wrinkles throughout the soles of her size 12 feet. The monitor responds with a blink… but the rhythm held steady in V-tach.

“Still in VT.” Ashley mouths, frowning at the screen. “Olivia, charge again to 150.” Anna instructs, already reaching to steady Lindsay again. Lindsay’s breath caught. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes- glassy now, fixed on the ceiling like she was bracing herself for a wave.

“Defibrillator is charged to 150 joules. Everyone stand clear for me.” Olivia calls out.

The second shock came, feeling harder than the first. This time, Lindsay screamed. It wasn’t theatrical- just a raw, involuntary sound that erupted from somewhere deep in her chest as the electricity races through her. Lindsay’s necklace swung against her collarbone with the motion. Her face contorted in pain, eyebrows raised, forehead crinkling, and for a moment, she didn’t seem to breathe at all. “Still no change, everyone.” Ashley informs.

Olivia’s hands were already moving. “Charging defibrillator to 200 joules.” She calls out. Lindsay blinked slowly, chest rising in shaky bursts. “Do it…” Lindsay rasped, through gritted teeth. The third shock landed like thunder.

Her entire body tenses up hard, shoulders shrugging forwards, both her hands making loose fists. Lindsay let out a pained moan, feeling the quick jolt of electricity work its way through every square inch of her 6’1 body.

Then, there was quiet. The monitor let out a softer tone. It was still fast, but regular. “Sinus tach.” Ashley confirms. A small breath of relief escaped her lips. “She’s back.” Anna smiles, feeling relieved. Lindsay let her head fall to the side, breathing fast and shallow, face pale, lashes wet. “Jesus. Never again!” she blurts out . Anna gives her a tight nod. “You’re stable for now. That’s what matters. We’ll let you rest for a bit.”

Over the coming little while, Lindsay remains in sinus tachycardia. Lindsay lay back against the inclined bed, a sheen of sweat still clinging to her collarbones. Her chest rose and fell with steady rhythm now, the erratic pounding finally tamed into something bearable. Electrodes remain stuck to her skin, telemetry still beeping softly nearby, but the atmosphere in the room had shifted.

Dr Anna stood at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed, watching the monitor with clinical focus but no urgency. Olivia leans on the nearby counter, half-sipping from a water bottle, while Nurse Ashley updates a chart on the tablet in her hand.

“You’re doing great, vitals improving.” Anna told Dr Lindsay with a smile that, for the first time, didn’t feel rehearsed. “HR’s holding steady in the 120s- definitely an improvement from earlier.” Adds Anna. Lindsay let out a breath through her nose, almost a laugh. “As an ER doctor, I’ve shocked plenty of people in my day. I never thought I’d be on the receiving end.” she jokes, reaching up to rub where the defib pad still sits.

“You took it like a champ.” Olivia chuckles. “Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” Lindsay replies, managing a grin. “You all decided I was the world’s best science experiment.” Lindsay quips. Ashley offers her a bottle of water and a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Hang in there, Doctor. You’re helping us learn something important.” Encourages Nurse Ashley.

Lindsay takes the water and sips, but her fingers tremble faintly around the plastic bottle. It was subtle. Easily missed. And maybe she was just a little out of it, considering she was just shocked three times.

The heart monitor beeped at a calm, consistent pace.

Still, she noticed the way Dr Olivia’s eyes flicked to the screen just a second too long. How Anna’s posture stiffened just slightly when Lindsay shifted in the bed. How Ashley’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Lindsay caught it just barely. “You all okay?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. Anna laughs nervously. “The worst part is over. You’re doing just fine.”

Olivia added, “We’ve got eyes on everything. You’re in good hands.”

Lindsay leans back, letting the water bottle rest on her lap. She wasn’t sure if the creeping unease was just her imagination or the return of something real. But for now, she chose to believe them. The lights dimmed slightly as the sun began to set outside the high windows. Machines hummed softly. Monitors blinked. Everything was fine.

Another twenty minutes had passed. The room had grown still again, except for the soft beeps of the heart monitor. Lindsay sat upright, her color a touch better, a thin blanket drawn across her lap. Her breathing had evened out. Olivia had just made a quiet note in the chart, and Ashley was adjusting an IV pump when it hit.

Lindsay flinched. It was sudden and sharp. Her hand shot to her chest, pressing just beneath her left collarbone. Her brow creased, forehead crinkled, as she leaned forward, lips parting in a shallow gasp. “Oh god… something’s wrong.” Lindsay murmured. The heart monitor confirmed it a second or so later, the steady rhythm giving way to a rapid, fluttering series of beeps.

Ashley’s head snapped toward the screen. “Telemetry just jumped, she’s spiking again.” Informs Ashley. Anna crossed the room in three strides. “Lindsay, talk to me. What are you feeling?” Dr Anna asks, her tone clipped and stern. “chest pain… palpitations… Something’s really really wrong…” answers Lindsay. She sucked in a breath. Her eyes darted to the monitor and back to Anna. Her composure was crumbling now- still holding, but fraying at the edges. “Rate’s climbing. 160 and rising.” Olivia informs. Anna’s voice stayed even. “We’ve got it. You’re still in a rhythm we can manage.” Anna reassures. But even as she said it, she was pulling on a pair of gloves, and Ashley was already prepping another IV med. The room had taken on a charge- quiet, but tense.

Lindsay’s grip tightened on the edge of the bed. Her breaths came faster and more shallow. “I thought we fixed this! Why is it happening?!” Lindsay shouts. Ashley and Olivia exchanged a quick glance. Nothing overt, just enough to register. Lindsay caught it. “Okay. That look? I know that look.” Lindsay shook her head. “You’re okay, Lindsay.” Anna said, but it was too quick. Lindsay looked up at her, face pale, lips slightly parted. “Don’t lie to me!” Lindsay snapped. “We’re not. We’re on top of this.” Anna replied softly. The monitor beeped louder, faster. A warning tone now. 165. 170.

Lindsay slumped back slightly, wincing, her voice more fragile this time. “I feel like my heart’s trying to leap out of my chest…” Lindsay groans. Olivia moves closer to the crash cart- still calm, but with new urgency in her step. Ashley hovered by the meds, ready. “We’re staying ahead of it. Just hang with us.” Anna places a hand gently on Lindsay’s shoulder. Dr Lindsay nodded, but her eyes didn’t leave the monitor.

The sharp, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was suddenly replaced by a blaring, erratic wail. Lindsay’s body shifted uncomfortably for a split second, her hand clutched tightly to her chest. “OH GOD…” she winced, her voice tight, barely audible. Her eyes went WIDE, pupils dilating as her body slumped.

“Lindsay?!” Dr Anna was already moving with a pep in her step. The monitor blared. Pulseless ventricular tachycardia. “Code blue!” Olivia shouted, her hand slamming the red button on the wall. Ashley lunged for the crash cart, tearing open drawers with trembling precision. Anna took lead, her voice cutting clean through the chaos. “Get the pads ready. Ashley- bag her. We need to intubate.” Anna commanded.

The air in the room thickened. Olivia snipped off Lindsay’s sports bra and began deep, strong chest compressions. Lindsay’s chest rocked beneath each forceful push. Her face, once full of quiet strength, now lay pale and motionless. “Pads ready. Charging to 200,” Ashley called out. “Hold on! Hold on! I’m intubating!” Anna pressed the laryngoscope into Lindsay’s mouth, hands steady as she passed the 8.0 ET tube down her trachea. “Tube’s in. Confirm with bag.” Anna barked. “Good rise. Tube’s good.” Ashley confirms, already squeezing the ambu bag rhythmically. “Alright, I’m going to go ahead and shock her now. Everyone stand clear!” Olivia announced. Everyone backed away.

The shock hit Lindsay. Her back arched violently, chest shot up, her hands making weak fists, plopping back down a second or two later.

“No change, resume compressions.” Anna ordered, jaw tight. “Ashley, push epi, one milligram IV.” Olivia called out, hands back on Lindsay’s chest, pushing hard and fast. Ashley administered the meds without a word.

The seconds bled together. Another round of compressions, and the meds were pushed. “Charging again- 300 this time.” Ashley took over the defibs. “Clear!!!”

Lindsay’s body twitched sharply in response. Another rush of electrical current through her tall, athletic body, but she devolved into v-fib.

“Still no pulse, looks like maybe v-fib on the monitors” Olivia observed softly, her voice starting to fray. Anna’s expression didn’t shift. “Another amp of epi. Get ready for amiodarone- 300 milligrams, push.” Commanded Anna.

The meds were pushed. CPR continued. The monitor continued to shriek.

“Charging to 360. Stand clear, everyone!” Ashley called out.

The third shock caused Lindsay’s feet to kick up an inch or so above the table, slamming back down with an ungracious THUD, showing off the thin, prominent, wavy wrinkles throughout the soles of her size 12 feet.

Anna’s gloved hands reached towards Lindsay’s neck, feeling for a carotid. “still no pulse, v-fib on the monitors.” Dr Anna shook her head.

The code continued. And Lindsay? She lay still, on the receiving end of deep, violent chest compressions. Her chest caving in, recoiling rhythmically, her toned belly with abs rippling out. The room, once full of optimism, was now silent except for the rhythmic thud of chest compressions and the hiss of forced ventilation.

The room was still bathed in harsh fluorescent light, sterile and too bright for what was unfolding. Alarms blared in their usual chaotic rhythm, but everyone had long since stopped reacting to them. On the monitor, the jagged, erratic waves of ventricular fibrillation darted across the screen. Lindsay’s body lay still on the table, her chest rising and falling only with the force of chest compressions.

“Charging again to 200. Everyone stand back for me.” Olivia announced, her voice flat from repetition. The shock hit Lindsay’s body with a jolt. Her 6’1 frame was tossed around effortlessly, arms slightly flinching outward, as the energy surged through her lifeless heart. The monitor stuttered. For a half-second, something vaguely organized sparked across the screen, then back to v-fib.

Ashley didn’t stop compressions. Her brow was damp with sweat, jaw clenched tightly as she counted under her breath. “Twenty-one… twenty-two…”

“Charging again. 250 this time.” Olivia called out. Anna just nodded, her eyes locked on the monitor, watching with clinical intensity. There was a subtle weight behind her expression now- grim acceptance beginning to settle in her bones.

The next shock was delivered. Lindsay’s body jerked once more. Another violent convulsion that looked nothing like life. Still v-fib.

“Still no pulse.” Ashley informed, pausing just briefly before going back in with compressions, her palms hitting harder than before. “We can keep going” Ashley suggests, almost pleading, her voice cracking.

Anna shook her head. “Nope. We lost her.” she said firmly, stepping back from the foot of the bed. Her voice was calm, almost too calm. “The trial drug caused mass dysfunction of the cardiac conduction system. Her heart’s no longer conductive, so we’re going to have to stop here and call time of death.” Anna explained, cold and matter of fact.

Ashley froze mid-compression. Her hands hovered above Lindsay’s chest for a second or so before she finally withdrew them. Dr Olivia didn’t say anything. She just reached over and pressed the power button for the heart monitor, which still displayed refractory v-fib. “Alright, everyone. Time of death, 18:45.” Anna broke the silence.

The room was eerily quiet now. No more beeping monitors. No more shouted commands. Just the stillness that followed the end of a code.

Lindsay’s body lay motionless on the table, chest rising no more, her head slightly turned to one side, eyes wide open, staring somewhere no one else could follow.

Nobody moved at first. Anna, Olivia, and Ashley just stood there, still in their gloves, gowns, and masks. A heaviness pressed down on the room, like it was holding its breath with them. Finally, Ashley stepped forward, reaching for the ambu bag still attached to the endotracheal tube. She unhooked it slowly, the rubber disconnect giving a soft click that echoed far louder than it should have. Olivia followed, gently peeling the defib pads from Lindsay’s chest. Anna moved in closer, hands steady as she carefully removed the EKG wires from Lindsay’s torso, one by one. No one spoke, but everyone did their part.

Ashley unwound the IV tubing from Lindsay’s arm, slipping the catheter free with an almost reverent gentleness. A soft trickle of blood followed, quickly wiped with gauze. Then, with quiet care, Olivia reached up and used her fingertips to gently close Lindsay’s wide open eyes. That blank, unblinking stare was gone.

Anna reached down, pulled a toe tag from the drawer, and began to fill it out. Her handwriting was neat and quick: “Lindsay Wilkes, MD. Time of death: 18:45.” She slipped the tag over Lindsay’s left big toe and fastened it in place, letting it dangle against the wrinkled soles of her feet.

“She’s the third one this week.” Anna spoke finally, her voice low and flat, shaking her head. “Yeah, back to the drawing board, I guess.” Olivia murmured, folding her arms across her chest. No one added anything. There was nothing left to say at that point.

Ashley stepped forward again and drew the white sheet up, first over Lindsay’s torso, then her face, tucking it in gently like she was putting someone to bed. For a long moment, the three of them stood in silence. At the end of the table, the toe tag swayed slightly, brushing softly against the soles of Lindsay’s feet, forever symbolizing Lindsay’s tragic end in what was originally supposed to be a positive experience.

[haikyu-mp4]

Work ethic

Fluffy workplace romance in a gym facility with your crush Tanaka for my workplace romance event <3

requested by @childofmyth. word count; 565 – gn!reader

You’re a professional nutritionist, working in the same gym as a personal trainer named Tanaka Ryunosuke. Many people who work out regularly need specific meal plans to reach their goals, and you were there to provide them.

It’s a small gym, so there weren’t a lot of specialists there and you and Tanaka mostly worked with the same people. He’s a nice guy, you admire the way he can be so tough and strict with the more experienced clients while softening and pulling out his greatest encouragement for the ones who were just starting on their fitness journey.

Today you had an appointment with a familiar client who already had Tanaka as his trainer for several months. While going over the nutritional plan he would start next week, you kept glancing over at where Tanaka was running on the treadmill beside his client and yelling encouragements at him while gradually raising the speed and/or incline on the machine. It made you smile, before focusing back on your job.

However, the client noticed your wandering gaze and chuckled. “Funny, Tanaka always looks at you like that when you’re working, too.”

“What? No, no way… Why would he do that?”

The man chuckled breathily. “Why do you do it?”

You scowled stubbornly, pretending to take some important notes. “I admire his… work ethic.”

“Interesting. That’s what he said about you.”

When you two met up again later, just before closing time, Tanaka was still panting from the last workout, towel slung haphazardly around his neck. You gave him a questioning look before turning back to the scheduled appointments for the rest of the week.

“That plan you made for me has been working great, I think my arms are getting bigger,” he bragged, one hand squeezing the opposite bicep to show off for you. Barely sparing him a glance, for your own sake, you nodded and smiled.

“You look very good,” and he finally got your full attention when he knocked over a mop and scrambled to clumsily pick it up. “Careful, Bambi, we’re supposed to prevent injuries.”

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly while leaning on the mop pole, flushed cheeks from more than just his workout. “I’m actually on cleaning duty tonight. Wanna maybe… stick around and play loud music on the speakers?”

You licked your lips, doing a terrible job of hiding your bright grin at the invitation. Deny it all you want, you have a crush on the gym’s resident hottie, and he’s a really good guy.

“Yeah, I’ll stick around.”

Tanaka was not the most thorough in his cleaning duties, so you finally exited the gym and locked up after only twenty minutes. He held the door for you, and you looked around outside. “Which direction are you going?” you asked.

Tanaka pointed over his shoulder, lips pursed before he spoke. “I was planning on getting some sushi, would you… like to come?” he asked, and you nodded quickly.

“That sounds awesome, I’d love to!” you agreed, already starting the walk there and looking to the side where Tanaka tucked his hands in his pockets.

“And tomorrow… maybe a coffee before work?” he added, wondering to himself if he was doing the right thing going slow instead of asking you to marry him already.

“Sure.”

“...And then we can have lunch together.”

“Tanaka…”

“We should date.”

“There we go.”

masterlist

[spitefulsatanfics]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

> “You can stop right there, Señorita. I’m gonna get you out of here. Trust me.” — Luis

PAIRING: Luis Serra x Female Reader (She/Her)

TONE: Enemies to lovers, coworker love, slow burn, canon-typical horror, apocalyptic romance, hurt/comfort, protector!Luis

WRITTEN BY: Little Devil <3

RATING: Mature (17+ for language, canonical violence, blood/injury, kissing/intimacy, horror themes)

WORD COUNT: ~7,000

BASED ON: Resident Evil 4: Remake

SYNOPSIS:

You and Luis Serra were once co-workers—begrudging, brilliant minds working for Umbrella Europe, watching the Las Plagas parasite unravel like a plague foretold. He flirted. You rolled your eyes. And when the outbreak came, you both ran. But the deeper into this infected nightmare you fall, the harder it is to deny that somewhere between hell and survival, your hearts started beating in unison.

I. THE CALM BEFORE THE CURSE

Umbrella Europe Lab | Sierra Verde, Spain | One Month Before Outbreak

The lab always smelled like bleach, regret, and ambition.

You sat hunched over your workstation, eyes glued to the microscope. Las Plagas Variant A00. Early stage. The cells twisted under the lens, spiraling into violent growth patterns. Aggressive. Unstable. Beautiful in the way venomous things often were.

“Careful, cariño. You keep glaring like that, and the microscope might just quit.”

You didn’t look up. “Luis, do you practice being this annoying or is it instinctual?”

A smooth chuckle drifted from behind. “It’s a gift. Like my bone structure.”

Luis Serra. Professional pain in your ass. He leaned beside you, lab coat flared open, shirt barely buttoned—because, apparently, dress codes were beneath him. His smile was casual, but the exhaustion behind it wasn’t.

“Still tracking the accelerant response?”

“You mean cleaning up the mess you made with your ‘experimental cocktail’? Yeah.”

He winced theatrically. “Ah, mi culpa.”

Your glare softened, almost fond. Almost.

He tapped the glass of your culture slide. “You know what they’re really making here, don’t you?”

You stilled.

“I know,” you said. Quiet. Heavy. “And I know you’re not just flirting your way through the apocalypse for fun.”

His smirk faltered. “You think I don’t lose sleep over it?”

You didn’t answer. But you saw it. The truth in his posture. The guilt under his bravado.

And a part of you—the part you swore you’d buried—wanted to believe he was more than he pretended to be.

---

II. GROUND ZERO

Two Weeks Later | Sierra Verde Facility Collapse

The screams came before the sirens.

You ran through blood-slicked corridors, lab alarms howling in deafening pitches. Las Plagas had breached containment. People you knew—colleagues, mentors, friends—were gone. What was left behind wasn’t human.

A snarl echoed down the hallway.

Your boots skidded. One of them—an infected researcher—lunged at you, mouth split too wide, black veins bursting beneath translucent skin.

You couldn’t scream. Couldn’t move.

Then a hand yanked you backward.

“Run!”

It was Luis.

Blood on his shirt. Eyes wild. He raised his pistol and fired twice—clean, practiced. The thing dropped.

You stared at him, breath ragged. “You came back?”

His fingers tightened around yours. “I’m not leaving without you.”

You didn’t argue. Couldn’t. You just ran.

He led you through a side hatch you never knew existed, down into the guts of the facility—past generators, water lines, and memories that already felt ancient.

And when the hatch sealed behind you, Luis leaned against the wall, catching his breath.

“You okay?” he asked.

You hated that your chest ached at the sound of that stupid pet name again. You hated more that you were glad he was there.

---

III. CLOSE QUARTERS

Subterranean Maintenance Tunnels | Night One

There was no exit. No plan. Just dark, recycled air and the sound of dripping pipes.

You curled against the cold floor, wrapped in a discarded thermal blanket. Luis paced like a caged lion. The silence was thick, broken only by your shaking breaths.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, kneeling beside you. “You’re bleeding.”

You looked down. A gash on your arm—shallow but angry.

He tore a strip from his already-ruined shirt and wrapped your wound, hands surprisingly gentle.

“You’re good at this,” you murmured.

“Field medicine or flirting?”

You opened your mouth to fire back.

But he was close. Closer than he’d ever been. His eyes, usually lit with mischief, were tired. Focused. Real.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said.

You didn’t answer. But for the first time since the outbreak, you slept. And when you woke up to find his hand resting near yours… you didn’t pull away.

---

IV. THE VILLAGE OF SHADOWS

Present Day | Village Outskirts

Rain sluiced down in sheets. The safehouse—a hollowed barn—reeked of mildew and rot.

Luis sat by the window, pistol on his thigh, wet hair clinging to his brow. You watched him silently, cradling your stitched arm.

“We move at dawn,” he said. “Too many of them out there tonight.”

You nodded, though the weight in your chest said otherwise.

“I should’ve done something sooner,” you whispered. “I knew what they were making.”

“So did I,” he said. “I thought I could sabotage it from the inside. Buy us time.”

You turned to him. “You really tried?”

He nodded, barely. “And I failed. But I won’t stop now.”

You saw it then—the wear in his bones, the cracks in his armor. And suddenly, you didn’t hate him. Not anymore.

---

V. FRAYED EDGES

Village Perimeter | Dusk

It happened fast.

You were scouting the edge of the treeline when three infected villagers broke from the brush. You fired, but one of them got too close—his blade nicked your side, shallow but stinging.

Luis was there in a heartbeat, dragging you back behind a rusted tractor. The moment the threat was down, he was at your side.

“Hold still,” he muttered, voice tighter than usual.

You hissed as he peeled your shirt aside, cleaning the wound with water from his canteen.

His hands didn’t tremble.

He didn’t crack a joke.

Not this time.

“This was my fault,” he said.

“You didn’t send them after me.”

“I still brought you into this.”

His jaw clenched. You saw it—the same guilt from the lab, now weathered by blood and fire. But behind it, something softer. Protective. Fierce.

You reached up and brushed his knuckles. Just once.

“I’d rather be here with you than safe and alone.”

He blinked. And for the first time, Luis Serra had no smooth line to offer.

---

VI. IN THE CROSSHAIRS

Minutes Later | Forest Edge

You were almost back to shelter when it happened.

A noise—too fast, too low. One of them had tracked your scent. The infected villager lunged from the trees, machete raised.

Luis turned too slow.

“Luis!”

You didn’t think. You moved.

The gun kicked back in your hands—once, twice. You tackled the thing off him, dirt and blood splattering your arms. You pinned it, drove your knife down, the scream rattling through your bones.

Then silence.

Luis sat against a tree, wind knocked from his chest.

You were already at his side. “Hey. Hey, breathe. Are you hurt?”

He groaned, coughing. “Mostly my pride.”

You helped him up, hands trembling. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He winced, leaning on you. “Didn’t know you cared so much, corazón.”

“I don’t,” you lied, breathless. “You’re just useful.”

“Liar,” he whispered.

---

VII. THE FIRE BETWEEN

Abandoned Cabin | Later That Night

Luis sat shirtless on the floor, wrapping a new bandage around his ribs. You hovered nearby, heart still galloping.

He looked up. “You saved me.”

You shrugged, trying to look unaffected. “Figured I owed you.”

He smiled. Not cocky—just grateful.

“Gracias,” he said. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

That made something flicker in his eyes.

“You’re not the man I knew in that lab,” you added. “You’re… better.”

He chuckled. “Low bar.”

You knelt beside him. “Still true.”

There was a long pause. Then, without thinking, you reached out and brushed his cheek. His hand covered yours.

“I like this side of you,” you said.

“I like being someone you’d want to see.”

And for once, you didn’t run from the silence between your heartbeats.

You leaned in.

And kissed him.

Not out of fear. Not because it might be your last night.

But because you wanted to.

Because you meant it.

---

VIII. RECKONING

Village Edge | Rescue Point

The dawn sky bled orange and smoke.

You and Luis stood side by side, weapons ready. The chopper was coming—just a few more minutes. You could hear the engines, faint above the treetops.

Luis looked at you, bruised and smiling. “So, coffee after this?”

You laughed. “Depends. Still planning on poisoning it?”

He smirked. “Only if you’re into that kind of thing.”

And then, softly: “You really saved me back there.”

You met his gaze. “We save each other. That’s what we do now.”

The chopper crested the hill.

You didn’t look back.

You reached for his hand.

And held on tight.

---

END: CHEMICAL HEARTS

Written in blood and survival by Little Devil <3

[julesclues]

Battlefield Bonds

Warnings: war (I feel like that’s a given), gun shot wound, clean up of an injury

Pairing(s): Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader

Word count: 7.3k

Notes: your code name is “Phoenix” and Soap has a wife and kid

a/n, might do a part two to this, but it's not necessarily needed. pls lmk if you want another part! if enough people want another part, then I'll do one. Until then, enjoy!

Summary: After Graves betrays the team, everyone is split up. You manage to escape with Soap, but he has some bad news: Ghost is no where to be found. Determined to not leave him behind, you venture out into the corrupt town with nothing but fear and a pocket knife. But, of course, something always has to go wrong.

Driving up to the base, you can feel something is wrong as the car comes to a stop. You turn to Ghost sitting in the driver’s seat, but his eyes are drawn to the situation at hand. You turn back, seeing Graves and the other Shadows exit the vehicle. Everyone else has the same idea, including you and Ghost.

“What’s this?” Alejandro asks, pointing at Graves with confusion. You turn to Ghost and he looks at you, shaking his head ever so slightly. “This is the immediate future,” Graves replies. “Step away from the gate.” Two Shadows exit the back of the vehicle you and Ghost were in. They both stand behind the two of you, weapons in hand. Ghost looks over his shoulder, and back to you, and you could tell he was aware something was about to go down. Something was definitely wrong. “What?” Soap asks, walking up behind Alejandro, eyes trained on Graves. “You heard me,” Graves says in a monotone voice. “You’re crazy,” Alejandro claims with a shrug. “This is my base.” 

“It’s not a base. This is a sizeable convert facility and I admire it,” Graves says with slight amusement in his voice. “So, I’m taking it. You all have been relived. Thank you for your service.” Immediately, Alejandro takes a step closer to Graves. You could feel your heart racing now, not sure how this was going down, nor what Graves’ intentions were. “No, I don’t take orders from you.” You could also feel the anger radiating off of Alejandro. Ghost was pissed too, his body tense and ready for any violence about to take place. “Didn’t Valeria say that? Now that makes me wonder what else I don’t know about your affiliation with a drug-lord.” Alejandro looks back at Soap with a chuckle and steps forward. “What the fuck did you just say to me, pendjo..?” 

Soap grabs Alejandro’s shoulder before he could do anything. “You’re out of line, Graves,” Soap speaks up. “This is ridiculous!” You yell from the side of the car, Ghost eyeing you, and a Shadow behind you taking a tiny step forward. “Don’t do that. Don’t.. do that.” Graves points to you and Soap. “No one needs to get hurt here.” 

“Are you threatening us?” Asks Ghost, his voice echoing through the dead of night. “Solider, I don’t make threats. I make guarantees. So let’s not do this.” 

You scoff and throw your hands in the air, walking toward Alejandro and Soap. Eyes locked on Graves, you shake your head. “You’re a disgrace to the army, Graves. I’m calling Shepherd.” Turning your back, you begin to walk back to Ghost and the car. 

“General Shepherd sends his regards.” 

You stop dead in your tracks, eyes widening and now on Ghost. He tilts his head slightly, hand on his side and very close to his pistol. “He told me ya’ll wouldn’t take this well.” 

“He knows about this?” Ghost asks in disbelief as you turn around to face Graves yet again. “Ya’ll need to stand down. It’s time to let the pros finish this. And why the hell are we talking like this is some kind of negotiation? It’s not. I’ve got my orders, and now you have yours.” Ghost goes to walk up to you, but a Shadow grabs his shoulder, holding him in place. You take note of this. 

“And who the fuck do you think you are, cabrón?” Raising his voice, Alejandro points to his base. “My men are inside!” 

“I’m afraid not,” Graves smiles. “Your men have been.. detained.”

Angry and betrayed, Alejandro lunges toward Graves but a Shadow stops him, throwing him against the car and knocking him out with the end of his gun. They zip tie his hands, leaving him trapped. “Graves, what the fuck?!” You yell, as Soap retreats from the gun fire. He grabs a Shadow to use as a body shield. Ghost elbows the shadow behind him, as you grab you side gun and spin, shooting the one behind you. Ghost throws a knife at a Shadow too close for comfort, and grabs your wrist, throwing both you and him to the floor for cover. 

Graves shoots the Shadow Soap was using as a shield, catapulting him to the ground. You could see him from the other side of underneath the car, scrambling for his gun and injured. “Go to Soap,” Ghost says to you, but you scoff. “No, why would I leave you?”

“He’s injured, I’m not. Go Phoenix! That’s an order.”

“Sir-”

“Go.”

Scoffing yet again, you crawl behind the car and up to Soap, helping roll the guy off and helping him up. Ghost follows behind, the red tail light of the car illuminating his mask. “Go, now! Both of you, get out of there.” 

“Ghost-!”

“Y/n, now!”

Panting, you look at Soap as he grabs your hand and leads you to the woods. Hesitant, you follow. You both slide down the slippery slope, as gun fire follows. “Fuck,” Soap hisses, holding his side. Then, nothing but silence. 

Minutes turn into hours as you and Soap find an empty house to hold up. “What the fuck is going on?” You ask, running your hands through your hair, as Soap grunts, sitting down on the nearest chair. He doesn’t respond, but keeps trying comms, as he has been for the past two hours. Yours had been destroyed by the gunfire. 

“This is Bravo 7-1 in the blind along with Phoenix.. How copy?” Silence.

“Still nothing?” You ask. He shakes his head. “I’m starting to lose hope,” he chuckles. But he’s not joking at all. 

All of a sudden, static is heard from his radio. “Bravo 7-1 this is Bravo 0-6, how copy?” Your eyes widen along with Soap’s, and you smile widely. “Price, thank god. We’re alive, I’m with Phoenix.”

“Lovely to hear. Spoke to Laswell, Shepherd’s off the grid. We’ll speak more when my evac team comes to pick you up. We’re five minutes out.” Soap lets out a sigh of relief but you’re a little more guarded.

“Sir,” you start, directed toward Price. “What about the others? Alejandro was taken and Ghost.. well, we don’t know where he is. We need to look for him.”

“Negative, Phoenix. I’m sending an evac team, not a rescue squad. I’m afraid they’re on their own.” You scoff and look at Soap. He looks down.

“That’s bullshit!”

“I don’t like it anymore than you do, I’m all for no man left behind. But we need to be in good shape if we’re going to save the others.”

“They won’t make it if we don’t start a rescue mission now,” you hiss. “Phoenix-“ Soap starts, but you ignore him. “No, I won’t do it. I won’t leave them behind. Price, if not now, when is the next evac chopper available?” He pauses for a brief second before answering you. “Not for another week, Phoenix. With Shepard off the grid, we’re low on supplies and men… two minutes out. We’ll talk when my team gets to you, over and out.” You turn to Soap and shake your head with a sigh. He speaks up. “Y/n, Ghost is not answering comms. We have no idea where he is, and evac is about to be here. We have to go.” You shove Soap lightly, remembering he’s injured and run your hands over your face due to stress. “No way in hell, Soap! I’m not leaving him!” 

“Phoenix-”

“He’s our lieutenant- fuck that, he’s our friend! It’s Simon for fucks sake! I’m not leaving him!” You’ve never called Ghost by his real name before. Soap knows you’re serious. “I don’t want to leave him either but another evac chopper won’t be available for another week! You heard Price. I have a wife and kid at home, and our chances out here for another seven hours, let alone seven days, is slim to none. You and I both know it.” You give Soap a death stare as you both hear the evac chopper approach. You understand where he’s coming from, and if you were in the same situation, perhaps you would’ve made the same choice. 

But you weren’t. No one was waiting for you at home. Your only family was Task Force 141. 

“Then I’ll take my chances. I’m going after him.” 

Sighing, Soap nods and grabs your shoulders. “Please be careful. Between the Shadows and the weather.. I mean, it’s pishin a doon out here.” 

“..English, MacTavish.”

“It’s raining fucking hard.” You chuckle at the voice change and grab his hand on your shoulder. “I’ll see you in a week, Johnny,” you yell, due to the chopper landing. Before boarding the chopper, Soap takes out his comms and hands it to you. “So you can stay in touch with us all, and potentially find Ghost.” You nod at him, symbolizing a ‘thank you.’ Soap grabs Price’s hand to get on the chopper and turns back to you. “Be safe Y/n.” 

You salute both him and the Captain, and watch them fly away to safety. Taking a deep inhale, you set off to the town to find your lieutenant. “Ghost, it’s Phoenix? Do you copy?” Silence, yet again. “Fuck,” you whisper. You walk into the town, and instantly hear a bunch of Shadows along with gunfire and screams. With only fear and a pocket knife, you make your way into an empty home, searching for anything and everything that could help increase your chances of survival. And, of course, finding Ghost. 

“Soap? Phoenix? How copy?”

His deep voice in your ear startles you, but you don’t hesitate to respond. “Ghost! Fuck, I thought I- we lost you.” 

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, Phoenix. Where’s Johnny?”

“He left,” you say. “Price and his evac team arrived and Soap went with them.” 

“Why didn’t you go too?” 

“Guess I just can’t live without you, Lieutenant.” 

Ghost pauses before replying with a question. “You stayed behind to look for me?”

“Affirmative.” 

“Wrong choice, soldier.”

“We’ll talk about that when I see you, sir. For now, let me just get to you. Where are you?”

“The church on the north side of town. Shadow activity is silent.”

“Silent? Where are they all?”

“Hell.”

You chuckle at Ghost’s comment. “I’m coming to you, sir. Just stay where you are, I think I’m close to the north side of town.” Ghost doesn’t reply, mainly because you don’t give him a chance to. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m alive,” he replies. “You?” You smile to yourself, making your way through the houses as a way to cover yourself from being too much in the open. “I’m alive,” you say, repeating his words. 

Walking in the town surrounded by enemies didn’t seem to bad now that you had Ghost to guide you. You two had never really gotten a chance to know each other. That was mainly because of the fact that he was laid back and silent half of the time.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…”

“What?” He repeats himself, word for word. “Go on..”

“One turns to the other and says, “You know how to drive this thing?”” You chuckle and shake your head, though you know he can’t see you. “Little army humor.”

“Very little.”

“We can do this all night, L/n.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, sir.” And you swear, for the first time ever, Ghost actually laughs. Well, maybe it was more of a chuckle, but that counts. You made Ghost laugh. That’s a win in your book. You can’t wait to tell the rest of your team. “Location?” He asks, distracting you from your thoughts. “I’m in the coffee shop.”

“Get us a tea, yeah?”

“Tequila sounds better right about now.”

“I’d murder for a whisky.”

“You mean scotch?”

“I drink bourbon.”

“Like a good boy.” He’s silent now, and you cringe the second the words come out of your mouth. “Sorry sir, that was—“

“Always have confidence, L/n. Don’t apologize for speaking. If you say bourbon means I’m a good boy, then I guess I am.” You smile to yourself and walk out of the shop, not forgetting to grab a few more supplies on the way out. After a couple moments you say, “You’re gonna owe me for this.”

“Why?”

“We’re fixing each other’s problems.”

“What’s my problem?”

“The mask… take it off.”

“Show my face?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Negative.”

“Are you ugly?”

“Quite the opposite.” You laugh a little too loud for someone whose on a stealth mission. You feel your face heat up a bit, and can’t help but wonder what he actually looks like underneath the mask. It’s killing you to know. “Guess you’re taking your ‘confidence’ advice, huh lieutenant?”

“Just speaking the truth, Y/n.” Boy if you weren’t flushed before, you definitely were now. The way he says your name in a low, hushed voice brings heat to your cheeks in an instant. “Location?”

“I can see the church now. I’m exiting the green house across the street. Do you see it, sir?” Before he could answer, you open the door but you’re knocked down by a Shadow.

“I got one sir! It’s Phoenix!” You scramble to get your knife but the Shadow steps on your hand, kicking the knife away. “Kill her,” you hear Graves yell from half a klick away. The Shadow points his gun at you and you close your eyes to prepare for the inevitable. But it doesn’t come, as a shot is heard and the Shadow above you falls forward, landing on you. You take his gun and shove him off of you, taking cover by the fountain in front of the church.

“Was that you Ghost?”

“Who else?”

“Thank you sir. I’m approaching the front of the church as we speak.”

“Coming out now, Phoenix. Watch your fire.”

Your gaze never leaves the front of the church, and soon enough, your eyes lands on Ghost. You let out a sigh of relief, watching him run toward you and throw himself over the fence to meet you at the stairs. “Ghost!” You yell with joy, but he grabs your hand and leads you down the stairs with him. “We need a vehicle! On me L/n.” He lets go of your hand and you’re right on his tail, running through the town having almost every Shadow after you. Ghost finds a pickup truck and you turn, shooting some more to try anything and everything to escape.

“Get in Phoenix!” He yells. He jumps into the drivers seat but before he could get in, he's dragged out by a Shadow. Before thr guy could even get his hands on Ghost, you shot the Shadow right between the eyes. "Thanks for that," Ghost says, a bit out of breath. "No probl-"

As you open the passenger door, however, you’re tackled by a Shadow and begin to brawl on the ground. “Get the fuck off me!” You scream, fighting the guy above you. He grabs his pistol and points it toward the right side of your torso and smirks. He pins your wrists above your head using of his hands, and your eyes go wide.

You hear a gun shot, quickly followed by another, and the guy above you falls on top of you. But you’re frozen and every sound around you is muffled. You hear Ghost calling your name and pushing the guy off of you. Just then, your hearing comes back into focus but an intense pain shoots through your entire body.

You were shot.

Before Ghost was able to kill the guy, that fucker had shot you. And shit, did it hurt like hell.

You whimper out as Ghost kneels down besides you. “Fuck,” he curses. “We gotta get out of here. Can you walk?” He asks, cupping your face with his hand. You had already begun to feel lightheaded by the blood loss but managed to nod your head anyways. Ghost nods too and lifts you up on your feet, causing you to wobble and yelp in pain.

“Get into the car. I got you, don’t you dare pass out L/n. If you can walk, then fucking walk!” Your head was pounding as you lifted yourself into the passenger side of the car, slamming the door shut. Once it’s closed, Ghost slams on the gas and you fly back into the seat, groaning and putting your hand on your wound to try and stop the bleeding as best as possible. Still, blood seeps through the gaps between your fingers. “Fuck,” you hiss, and Ghost glances you at while speeding away. You look in the rear view mirror and realize you’re not being followed anymore, letting out a sigh of relief. Ghost slows down a bit, now just driving along the abandoned highway, still on the look out but also paying attention to you.

“How’re you doing, Phoenix?” He asks, as you adjust in your seat. You let out a long exhale and blink slowly, wanting to fall asleep. “Hurts like hell,” you say, slurring your words slightly. As you push against the wound and fight to stay awake, Ghost pulls up to a safe house. He gets out of the car and your eyes follow him as he rushes to your side of the car, opening the door. He reaches over you and pulls your seat belt off. Your right hand goes behind his neck and he hooks his arm underneath your legs to carry you.

You whimper in pain as he lifts you, closing the door with his foot. “Ghost..” you whisper, and he looks down at you. “Don’t fall asleep,” is all he has to say as he rushes to the safe house. “Where are we?” You manage to mumble out. “Alejandro’s safe house. He gave me the coordinates, it was need to know.”

“What if I needed to know?”

“Shh. Let’s just worry about getting you fixed up, yeah?”

“So you do care about me?”

“I care about you alive.”

You chuckle softly as he enters the house. Empty and dark, he finds a near by table to prop you down on. You grunt, adjusting yourself on the table as he scouts the area to make sure no one is with you guys. Once the area is deemed to be clear, he looks for supplies to clean you up. You feel yourself blink slowly and look around.

You vision is somewhat dark as you feel yourself wanting to just go to sleep. Just for an hour, and you’ll be back on your feet in no time. But before you can do that, Ghost comes back and makes eye contact with you. “Permission to lift your shirt?” Ghost asks, and you chuckle slightly. “Affirmative, sir. You can peak if you want. You deserve it for helping me.” You smirk as you slur your words and Ghost just sighs. “You’re definitely out of it, Phoenix.” He lifts up your shirt right below your chest and you breathe heavily. He examines the wound, his fingertips grazing around the wound, not touching it. It still hurt, so you groaned out and lifted your left arm above your head.

As Ghost’s eyes were glued on your injury, yours were glued on his face. The mask didn’t show much at all, except for his eyes. You couldn’t even tell what his face structure was, or what color his hair was. It could be blue for all you know. But his eyes.. His eyes gave away his emotions almost immediately.

He was scared.

Ghost‘s eyes were always cold, always empty and filled with no emotion whatsoever. But now, for some reason, he let himself show emotion, show his, some what, vulnerable side.

Honestly, you didn’t think the guy was afraid of anything.

He turns back to the supplies he was able to obtain and you close your eyes momentarily. You were scared too, of course. Sure, you were a solider, a fighter. But that doesn’t mean you had a death wish. You wanted to go back home and lay down on your bed, watching stupid reality shows that meant absolutely nothing.

He turns back around with bandages, surgical forceps, and gauze. “I’m gonna start now, okay darling?” You scoff with a smile, looking up at him. “You pull up my shirt and now you call me darling? Seems like we’re getting somewhere, Lieutenant.”

“Are you always this flirty when you’re on the brink of dying?”

“Only with you, sir.” He exhales and so do you. “I’m ready. Just please, try not to kill me, alright?” 

“No promises,” he says as he nods slightly and brings the gauze to your wound, making contact with it. You hiss in pain, arching your back slightly and shutting your eyes. The gauze absorbed your blood almost immediately, causing Ghost to quickly replace them with clean ones. After a couple minutes of this, Ghost grabs the forceps and breathes deeply.

He brings the forceps to you wound, and begins digging for the bullet. You bite down on your hand, making teeth marks in your skin to try and muffle your sounds. “You can scream, we’re safe. They won’t hear you,” Ghost says with slight concern in his voice. You immediately start to scream in pain as Ghost looks for the bullet in your torso. “Fuck! Please- oh god, it hurts so bad! Fuck, I can’t- oh god Ghost, stop!”

He immediately stops, halting his actions but not removing the forceps. “I can’t stop, Phoenix. I need to keep going. We need this bullet out.” Tears pour down your face as you look up at Ghost. Whispering, you speak to him.

“I don’t want to die, Simon.”

His eyes go wide, surprised that you said his real name. Normally he wouldn’t let anyone say his name, but it sounded different with you. He liked it.

He brings his hand to your cheek as a sign of comfort. “Then let me do this. I know it hurts, trust me, I know. But I don’t want you to die either. If I get this bullet out, you’ll be okay.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, Y/n.” You knew he was making a promise he couldn’t guarantee, but it still reassured you. You huffed in frustration and pain, allowing Ghost to continue his work on you. The forceps moved again, making you yelp in pain. Ghost was mumbling half to himself and half to you. He repeated the words “I’m sorry” and “You’re okay” like a mantra. But you barley heard him. Between the pain and your screams, your hearing was muffled. 

Sooner or later, you gasped as you felt Ghost retract the forceps. Your eyes shot open and landed on the bloody bullet between the tongs. “Gotcha,” he whispered. “Oh thank god,” you chuckled, feeling woozy and tired. You heard the bullet fall into a metal bowl, but as Ghost’s face appeared above you, you saw your vision fading. “Simon,” you slurred. “Stay with me, Phoenix. Hey, don’t sleep.” But you couldn’t do it. The blood loss was too much. 

Within seconds, you had passed out. 

～～

Your eyes flutter open, instantly squinting as you make contact with an overhead light. You groan, feeling a comfortable mattress underneath you. You go to sit up, but instantly yell out in pain, almost forgetting of the injury on your side. Your head hits the mattress again as you fall back. Sitting up was too painful. But you were alive. Your mind wandered to Ghost, wondering where he was and how the hell he managed to save your life once you had passed out. 

You were ripped from your thoughts as you felt the bed next to you shift. Your head snaps toward that direction, and your eyes land on Ghost. He was sitting up next to you, armor still on and gun directly on the nightstand next to him. “Phoenix? You’re awake? Are you okay?” Bombarded with questions, you begin to chuckle, meeting his eyes. “I’m still hurting bad, but I’m alive. That’s gotta count for something, right sir?” He stayed silent, just watching you with squinted eyes. You felt bad that he had to save and fix you. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, closing your eyes in guilt. “Between you having to save me from that guy, then having to carry me and fix my wounds? Not to mention me passing out. I.. I didn’t mean to put you in that position, Ghost. I’m sorry.” By this time, you open your eyes and find that he has his face rested in his hands, elbows on his knees. He turns to you and places a hand on your thigh, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. 

“Did you purposely get shot?” He asks nonchalantly. Confused, you shake your head. “Then don’t worry about it. You didn’t get shot on purpose, and you didn’t die. If anything, I’m.. I’m sorry. You stayed back because of me.” You put your hand on top of his on your thigh and smile softly, feeling extremely tired. “You didn’t force me to stay back, sir. It was my decision. We saved each other in a way, if you think about it. How about we call it even?” Even under the mask, you could tell he smiled ever so slightly. “I like the sound of that.” 

Ghost stands up and grabs his gun, keeping it on his possession. “How long was I out?” You ask, turning your head to face him. “About a couple hours. We need an evac chopper though, need to get you to a real medic. You need a blood transfusion and I can’t do that here. Don’t have the supplies.” 

You wince, feeling the wound throb a bit. “Another evac chopper won’t be here for a week,” you admit. He turns to you quickly in disbelief. “Price told me when he came to pick up Soap.” Ghost curses and sits down on a chair across the room, still in sight. “You won’t make it that long,” he says angrily. “You should’ve gone with them, Phoenix. Fuck, you should’ve just left me and went back safely.” You scoff and roll your eyes. “I wasn’t going to, and there was nothing you could say or do that would’ve made me leave.” 

“I would’ve ordered you to leave with Johnny.” 

“I wouldn’t have.” 

“You would disobey a direct order?” 

“If it meant saving your life, then yes. I would.”

Ghost stayed silent, lifting his skull mask above his face to just leave him in his balaclava. You were able to see his eyes more properly. They were beautiful and you were always going to think that. You’d probably never tell him though. Telling your lieutenant that he has pretty eyes? A little awkward.

“You’re delusional, L/n,” he shoots back. You could tell he was conflicted and honestly, so were you. Sure, you weren’t going to leave him behind. Even if he was one of the best soldiers you’ve ever seen and could easily take care of himself, you didn’t want to abandon him. You didn’t want him to be alone. “Would you have done the same for me?” You ask, and without hesitation, he replies yes. “So why is it so unbelievable that I would do it for you?” He ignored your question and grabbed his radio, trying to reach someone. He obviously didn’t want to talk, so you didn’t pressure him. This was a conversation for later.

“Ghost to Price, how copy?” After a couple of seconds, radio static is heard. “Ghost, good to hear from you. Phoenix with you?” Ghost turns to you and makes eye contact. He doesn’t break it as he responds to Price. “Affirmative, but she’s injured, lost a lot of blood. She won’t make it if we don’t get an evac team here soon.” You cringe at Ghost’s bluntness about your death, but you knew he couldn’t sugarcoat anything. This was a legit life or death situation. “Shepard’s off the grid, we only have one chopper available. Men and supplies are insanely limited, everything has gone to shit. Getting an evac chopper and team to you guys is easier said than done. We don’t-“

“I’m not asking, Price.” Ghost cuts off Price, and silence lingers in the air, along with his anger. “I am your Captain and superior, Lieutenant. You will treat me as such or we’ll have problems.” Ghost scoffs and paces through the room, your eyes following his every movement as you listen to their conversation. “No. We’ll have problems if Y/n doesn’t get a blood transfusion within the next seventy-two hours. If she dies Captain, it’s on you.”

“Ghost, I understand the safety and well-being on your fellow soldiers is important to you, but understand when I say that it can’t be done.” Ghost shakes his head, though Price can’t see it. “Ghost maybe you should-“ You start, but he shoots you a glare that shuts you up instantly. There was no changing his mind on this. He was very persistent and wasn’t going to stop until he got you back to safety. “Can’t be done or won’t be done, Captain?”

“Can’t. We only have one chopper throughout the entire force right now. One.”

“And where is that chopper now?” Price was silent, which confused you and Ghost. So, he repeated his question. “On the ground at our base.”

“So why the fuck can’t you use that chopper to come to us?”

“If Graves’ or Shepard’s location is confirmed, we need it to go after them. We are prioritizing.”

“This is horseshit!” Ghost yells, slamming his fist on the desk, making you jump. “You’re willing to sacrifice Y/n’s life in order to get back at Graves and Shepard?! You’re a piss poor of a Captain. I thought we leave no man behind, under no circumstances.” Price is silent, as if he was thinking about Ghost’s words and what to do. You understand where both Price and Ghost were coming from. The circumstances were unlike no other, everyone was confused.

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll radio back in an hour to let you know about an evac team. Just.. just keep her alive Ghost, okay?” You smile as Ghost turns to you and gives you a thumbs up. “Affirmative, sir. Over and out.” You try to sit back up with some struggle, and Ghost rushes over to you to help you. “Easy there,” he mumbles, but you manage to do it. You were breathing a little heavy from the lingering pain in your torso and the blood still seeping out of you. The bleeding had slowed down greatly but Ghost was right. With no help soon, your chances of making it would be slim to none.

“Why’d you do that?” You ask Ghost. He stays silent for a moment. He wasn’t even sure himself why we was so persistent and angry with Price. He would never challenge a superior like that.

“You asked if I would do the same for you. This isn’t quite the same, but Price might have my head on a stick for speaking to him in such a way. I risked my life for you.” You try not to laugh so hard at his words in fear of the injury pain. “I’m glad you’re laughing,” he says, making you tilt your head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You got betrayed by Graves, stayed back in a town where your chances of getting killed are high, proceeded to get shot, lost a shit ton of blood, and if help isn’t here within three days, you won’t make it. All within a span of fifteen hours. And yet.. you’re smiling and laughing. I don’t get it.” You hum, looking down at your hands and picking at your fingernails. “I don’t know, I guess I just..” You look up at Ghost and smile sadly.

“You make me happy, I guess. I don’t know. I mean, even when you were fixing me up before, I was making stupid flirty comments with you. And even before that, I called you a good boy for liking bourbon. I guess you just being with me and by my side makes me feel a little better about being in a fucking war against not only the bad guys, but the Shadows too. Everything has gone to shit. Since Graves betrayed us, I’ve been scared about who to trust, questioning everyone. But you? I’ve never doubted you once. You helping me survive, fighting Price just to get me to safety, reassuring me with kind words even though a couple minutes before you were threatening your Captain. It makes me feel good. You make me feel good. So yeah, if these are my last days, it’ll be filled with pain and agony but at least you’ll be there with me, Simon.”

Ghost just looks at you, but his eyes give away nothing. He was silent, which caused you to become a little anxious and regretful for your words. “Y/n-“

“Price to Ghost, do you copy?” Startled, Ghost scrambled to grab the radio and respond. Great fucking timing. “This is Ghost, go ahead sir,” he says, clearing his throat and shaking his head slightly. “Good news. An evac chopper will be at your location in the next ten hours. Looks like Phoenix won’t be six feet under any time soon after all.”

“Don’t jinx me, Captain,” you yell from the bed. Price chuckles quietly. “Ghost,” he starts. “I’m glad I got the confirmation from Laswell to come and pick you guys up. But if you ever dispute with me again, I will fight you myself.”

“You’ll lose, Captain.”

“What was that?”

“…I said yes sir. I understand.”

“Oh and one more thing Ghost. Though I didn’t like how you spoke to me one bit, we’re a team. Phoenix is injured, and death is a pretty permanent thing. If you didn’t speak to me the way you did, this most likely wouldn’t be going your way. You did good, Lieutenant. I can tell you care about her. See you soon, over and out.”

Simon didn’t like the feeling he felt when Price admitted he noticed the care for you. Ghost didn’t like to be vulnerable. So the fact that you’ve been able to tear down his brick walls without him even noticing made him cringe with uncomfortable feelings. “He’s right, you know,” you say, pulling him away from his thoughts. “What?”

“About it all. Well, I don’t know how much you care for me,” you chuckle. “It’s kind of ethically wrong if you’re in the army and let me die. But otherwise, he’s right. You did good, stood your ground.” Ghost scoffs and walks over to the window, pulling down the blinds with his two fingers to look outside. He chooses to stay silent, mainly because he genuinely doesn’t know what to say.

The words you said before Price interrupted flood into his mind. The fact that you could care about and trust him without ever even seeing his face was beyond his comprehension. He may be one of the smartest and logical people out there, but you will always confuse him more than he’d like to admit. He just can’t seem to figure you out.

The room is filled with a silence. Comfortable, but still quiet. All that is heard is the muffled gunfire outside, flooding the town with each passing minute. That is, until your mattress creaks as you try to swing your feet over the left side of the bed in order to make an attempt to stand.

The sound catches Ghost’s attention and in less than a second, he’s by your side. “What do you think you’re doing?” You grunt, still trying your best to move without any pain. “Bathroom,” is all you say before Ghost sighs, yet again, and holds your shoulders to keep you in place. “Can you walk?” He asks, and you exhale. “Yeah,” you lie. “You’re a shitty liar,” he remarks, making you smile slightly. “I can do this myself. I’m a soldier, a gunshot wound won’t kill me.” He shakes his head, mainly due to annoyance. “Without me, you would’ve died.” You chuckle dryly, holding your side with a cough. “You give yourself too much credit.”

“What happened to you saying I helped you survive?”

“Oh, so you did listen to that whole speech I gave before.”

“Didn’t really have a choice, L/n.”

“You could’ve walked out of the room, Riley.” You pause briefly and after realizing he isn’t responding, you speak up. “I have a theory that you liked what I said.” Now, it was his turn to chuckle. “What makes you so sure?” He asks in a low voice. “When Price interrupted our wonderful moment,” he rolls his eyes, “you cleared your throat and shook your head. I think I made you flustered.”

“I don’t get flustered.”

“You’re a shitty liar.” You repeat his words from before. “What happened to you needing to use the bathroom?” He tries to change the subject, mainly because you were spot on. He was flustered with what you said about him. No one’s ever been so nice to him. Saying that they trust him, that they care about him. It was riveting, to say the least.

“Oh yeah,” you giggle, and use his arm for stability to stand. When you do, however, your knees buckle and you almost fall down if it wasn’t for Ghost. “Fuck,” you whisper. “I hate feeling like this,” you sigh, but all Ghost does is look at you and help you up. He wraps his arm around your waist, careful not to make contact with your wound. You wrap your left arm around his back and limp to the bathroom on the floor. “I’m glad you spoke up to Price,” you admit, making your way to the bathroom. “Me too,” Ghost says. “I’m glad we’re getting you the help you need.” You could hear the smile in his voice. You were glad he was around and though you were stuck in a sticky situation, at least you were with him.

After making it to the bathroom with Ghost’s help, you both decided to rest some more and wait for help to arrive. You deserved to rest with the long day you had. After sleeping and resting for what seemed like days, you felt someone shake you. Startled, your eyes shoot open with a gasp. “Hey, it’s just me,” you hear Ghost whisper. “Price is here with the evac team. Let’s get the fuck outta here, yeah?” You smile up at him and grab his hand that was on your shoulder. “Thank fucking god.”

“Good to see you alive and well,” Price yells because of the loud sounds from the chopper. “Alive, yes. Well, not so much. Let’s just get out of here,” you yell back, leaning onto Ghost for support. Price helps you into the chopper by pulling you, while Ghost pushes you from behind. It hurt your wound but you pushed through it, finally making it onto the chopper and into a seat with a sigh of relief. Looking around waiting for Ghost to get on the chopper, you see Gaz and Soap. They salute you and wave, and you smile at them. “Nice to see you again, lass,” Soap says with a smile. “Glad you’re not dead,” he adds. “It feels like I am,” you say. He smiles and leans over to grab your shoulder. “Let’s get you home and fixed, yeah?”

“Sounds like a dream, Johnny.”

～～

Hours later, you all finally make it back to base. You’re instantly brought into the med bay with Ghost and Soap’s help. They slowly drop you down onto a bed and you groan in pain. “You alright, lass?” Soap asks you, and you just smile with your eyes closed and an exhale. “I’ve been better. But this big guy over here helped keep me alive. Ain’t that right, Simon?” You ask, opening your eyes and see that he’s already looking down at you. He puts his hand on your head and pats you lightly. “Get some rest, and please get fixed up for fucks sake. You’ve lost too much blood. I’m gonna go talk to Price.” He then turns to Soap, making eye contact with him as he removes his hand from your head. “If anything changes with her, and I mean anything, you call me. Got it?” Soap nods at his lieutenant, and watches him leave the med bay, leaving you two alone. Soap looks down at you and smiles softly. “You know,” he starts, sitting down next to you as you both wait for the doctor. “You’re the only one he allows to call his first name.” You look at Soap quietly, not really knowing what to say. You chuckle softly and shake your head. “I-I’m sure that’s not true,” you say, but all Soap does is laugh. “It is, lass. Think about it. Have you ever heard anyone else call him his first name?”

You think about it for a brief moment and realize he’s right. And the fact that he never corrected you when you called him Simon? Maybe he didn’t mind you calling him that. Or then again, maybe it was pity. You’re injured, after all. You scoff and shove him lightly. “Shut up,” you chuckle. Before he could respond, the doctor walks in and Soap gets up almost immediately. “I’ll let you get the help you need, a’ight? I’m glad you’re okay.” He pats your head like Ghost did moments before, making you smile. Thanking him, he leaves the room, and you’re able to get the medical help you’ve been longing for.

～～

About ten hours later, you wake up after feeling as if you were hit by a truck. Your eyes flutter open and you look to the side of your bed, eyes falling on a familiar figure. “Morning, solider,” Ghost says, grabbing your hand with his. “Morning,” you repeat with a soft voice, smiling at him. “How’re you feeling?” You blink slowly, not wanting him to let go of your hand anytime soon. “I think I’ll live, thanks to you.” Ghost shakes his head with a scoff. “Nah, it was all you. You’re brave, I’ll give you that.”

“Brave?” You chuckle. “I was scared as shit.” Ghost sighs and let’s go of your hand, making you a bit disappointed. “I.. get that,” he says hesitantly. “I guess I was a little scared too. That you were gonna die.” You gasp and your smile widens. “The Ghost was scared? That I was gonna die? Oh how amazing is this.”

He stays silent, just looking down. You follow his gaze to his arm, IV tape and a bunch of wires connected. He donated his blood for you.

"Oh.." You whisper. "Thank you."

He looks up at you through the mask, but still doesn't say a word.

"You really were scared?" You ask. You weren't necessarily unsure, just in disbelief that Ghost could be scared. Nervous, maybe. But scared just seemed out of the blue.

"Yeah," he says, matter-of-factly. "How could I have not been? You were bleeding all over the place. Didn't know if you were going to.." He closes his eyes for a moment, seemingly remembering what had happened just days before. "I'm sorry I scared you sir," you apologize. But he just shakes his head, not breaking eye contact. "At ease soldier. It's Simon to you." You chuckle. "Right. Well, I'm sorry Simon."

"Apology accepted Y/n."

Maybe eventually he'll tell you exactly why he was so afraid. Maybe someday he'll admit to you that losing you would mean losing himself. Maybe one day he'll confess his feelings for you.

Maybe some day, you'll do the same.

But not today. Not yet, anyways.

[kniesandtoews]

No Man is an Island

Summary: What does Auston do after locker clean out day?

A/N: This works as a reader insert stand-alone blurb, but it is part of a longer piece I'm working on featuring an OC. No warning except the mention of some sex stuff

You sat behind the wheel and let out a frustrated sigh. Toronto traffic was horrible, you knew that after living here for just over two years. The city was walkable and there was always an under so you never felt the need to get a car and yet here you were, waiting for things to move. Of course, this wasn't normal traffic. You left the apartment and made it to Etobicoke in pretty decent time. Now you were just waiting to get into the garage of the practice facility. 

It was end of season media availability and locker cleanup day. On a good day, that meant fans crowding the exit hoping to get a chance at selfie with their favorite player or get some gear signed. On a bad day, like after a historic loss, that meant giving the team a piece of their mind. 

You continued to tap your fingers on the steering wheel, as you approached, you rolled down the window a quarter of the way. You'd need to swipe the keycard but you also hoped when the gathering saw that you were not a player, not anyone with anything to do with the organization, they'd part the red sea and let you through without any trouble.

There were a few mumblings but otherwise they paid no attention and you were able to pull right in to the reserved spot. You pulled out your phone from the center console to send him a quick text.

I'm here. Want me to come in or wait in the car?

Be out in 5

Closing your eyes, you let yourself sink into the seat only to jump when the passenger side door open. 

"Fuck," Auston slumped down in the passenger seat as he nearly slammed the door behind him.

You tried not to laugh at him. "Well, hello to you too."

"Sorry, Baby." He leaned over to kiss your forehead. "I'm so over answering the same dumbass questions. One dickhead tried to say that I needed to go into my injuries like they had some fucking right to know what's going on with my body."

You couldn't resist, but only because you knew Auston could take it. "Was that your dear friend, Kevin?"

Auston let out a snort. "Nah, this time it was Luke, but thanks for paying attention."

With another smile, you leaned in to kiss him. "So what's the plan? Do you need to make any stops or are we going straight to the airport?"

"I'm good. Do you need anything?" He kissed you again as if he knew he needed to keep the conversation going but he couldn't resist having his lips on yours. "Have your snacks? Got everything for the kids?"

As if on cue, your backseat passengers both let out a few whines and yips. You both turned to look at Felix, his Mini Bernedoodle, and Elsa, your Bernese Mountain Dog. In all honesty, you probably had the dogs to thank for the two of you becoming a couple to begin with. You had your reservations about dating a famous athlete following a traumatic breakup but Auston encouraged a friendship based around the dogs first. Let's take the dogs for a walk, can Felix hang out with you while I'm on the road, come over Felix misses his bff. Eventually it became second nature that you were at Auston's place more often than not, you helped him cook because the man could burn pasta, and why not cuddle while watching a movie? It's kinda late, you can stay over if you want, but you know Auston's bed is more comfortable than the guest room. Of course, having multiple rounds of sex after getting ridiculously drunk at Mitch's weddingdid nothing for keeping the boundaries of friendship. Finally, you had to admit to yourself that you were head over heels in love with Auston Matthews and maybe, just maybe, you could handle letting him into your heart. Did you really have a choice at this point?

You gave a definitive nod. "Yep. Got you some Takis, mini waffle cones, ketchup chips, popcorn, and M&Ms. Oh, and gummies, of course. The kids are all set too."

The gummies were key. You hated flying and usually loaded yourself up with Xanax but when Auston needed to fly to Germany for some treatment options and the timing coincided perfectly with your older brother's wedding, Auston introduced you to the sheer bliss that came in the form of edibles.

"Good girl." He took your hand and laced his fingers in-between yours. "So Tommy is going to meet us there. He'll take the car back to the apartment and then pick us up again when I need to report to training camp. Is that ok with you?"

Glancing at him while you stopped at a red, you raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, but why are you asking?"

Auston kissed the back of your hand. You had noticed that whenever he was stressed, he'd seek out little forms of contact as a way to ground himself. "Cause it's your car. We'd figure something else out if you don't like the idea of someone else driving your car."

"Aus," You cleared your throat, knowing you were probably going to start an argument. "It's your car."

He let out a small laugh. "Not according to the province of Ontario. The car is registered in your name, Babe. I bought it for you. And, I intend to do the same thing once we get settled at home. You'll need a car in Phoenix, too."

"I can buy my own car, you know." You hoped the humor in your voice came through and that you weren't coming across as a spoiled brat.

"I know." He put his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze. "I know you like your independence and I know you never want to feel like you're taking advantage of me. But you know gifts are my love language and I want to spoil my girl. It's been a shitty week and I don't know if I'd be able to get through it if it weren't for you so for the love of god let me buy you a damn car."

You smirked. "I mean, there are other ways you can show your appreciation."

"Oh that's coming too. You know I can't say no to that pretty little pussy of yours." He slid his hand up your inner thigh. "I've got plans to fuck in every single room once we get home. You need a proper welcome."

Auston wasn't always that vulgar, so when he spoke to you, telling you exactly what he was going to do to you, you always felt your cheeks grow hot while a tingle in the pit of your belly grew in anticipation. A giggle escaped your lips. "Aren't your parents coming too?"

"In a couple days." You could feel his eyes on you. "So we'll have the place to ourselves until then."

You would have liked to have stayed on that train of thought but you were quickly approaching the airport so Auston shifted his train of thought to giving you directions. You parked by the FBO lounge and held on to Elsa and Felix while Auston checked in with everyone's travel docs. You popped a couple of gummies while you waited, watching from afar as Auston patiently signed a few autographs and posed for selfies. Finally, he turned back to you. "C'mon, baby. Let's go home."

You didn't correct him. You hadn't felt like you had a home in the three years since you'd moved to Toronto. Instead, "home" was becoming where you were with Auston. 

Even with the gummies, you were still white knuckling it during the take off. Auston rested his hand on the back of your neck, his thumb and forefinger applying a gentle pressure. He kissed your temple before resting his forehead against yours. "You're doing great, almost there."  

Alllright, Mr. And Mrs. Matthews

The pilot came over the speaker

We have reached cruising altitude so feel free to move about the cabin. We've got beautiful weather for our flight today and we should be landing in Phoenix around 1pm

You looked over to Auston. "Mrs.?"

"Eh," He shrugged as he took his hand off the back of your neck. "It's easier to list you as a spouse on the passenger manifest."

Feeling pleasantly fuzzy, you let out a sigh as you rested your head on his shoulder. "Well, I would be lucky to call you my husband."

If you were looking at him, you would have seen him smile that genuine smile of his, the one that leaves his eyes shining.

"I can't wait for you to be able to just relax." You took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Not going to lie, I'm also looking forward to having you all to myself, at least for a few days."

You felt a laugh form deep in his chest. "Same here, baby."

[kaikaidenkai]

Suicide or Soccer?

sypnosis:

reader is a teenage girl in her second year of highschool who spends most of her time studying, playing soccer, and watching/reading blue lock. she has finished every single thing of it, even buying tons and tons of merch of it. but now whats she supposed to do with her life besides studying? the only ever reason she’s ever liked soccer was because of blue lock. After unaliving herself, she was now in the world of… Blue Lock??

CH.3|| Lock OFF!!

masterlist

Since you, yes you were the manager of Blue Lock, it was your responsibility to escort those who have been locked off. Basically saying fuck off— I mean saying they lost. They lost the chance in ever competing and representing Japan in so... football

So here you are; gathering those from each team who have been told to lock off. It was quiet.. not really since there were sobbing noises heard from two people. It was hard to not make a face from the ugly crying that was going on. . .  damn what the fuck happened to your empathy?

It was a kind of long walk to reach the exit of the building. You gave all the players(not really players anymore lol) their stuff back which was their phones and wallets. So you had to somehow sort everyone's phone out.. After asking every single player which phone and wallet was theirs, you sent them on a bus to go home.

You felt bad for them but not enough to actually do something.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

God forbid Jinpachi making Blue Lock so fucking huge. You were huffing and puffing and huffing and..you get the idea all over the place. It didn't help that you had to carry cleaning supplies with you too. The cleaning supplies were to clean all the blood from the game of "tag". And of course it had to be you who cleans because you were the manager, right?

YOU DIDNT EVEN AGREE TO THIIIISSSSSHDHCKSLDKVHXIKDJDFUEOOJSJCJCKZKWUFU

But of course, the excitement of meeting fictional but now technically non-fiction in real life is more powerful than the feeling of crashing out.

So anyways, onto the last room you go! And just like always; it's the room of the "main protagonist" who is Isagi!!!! Wowwww!!! Thank god Team Z was more calmer than the last few you've cleaned. It was only a few drops of blood which of course were concerning but they signed a waiver agreeing to this. It's their fault for signing it in the first place.

There was no one else in the room except you since the players of Team Z were currently training or eating in another room that you have no idea where is at. Well you were alone until the door opened revealing player 274, Isagi.

You two just stared at each other for what seemed a minute too long, he was sweaty from training and you were.. a female in blue lock??

"You're the one who announced the game of tag with the director?"

"I'm the manager of this facility, Blue Lock, and are currently cleaning the mess you made."

You tried your hardest to be serious like Jinpachi but just ended up being kinda mean? Not like he doesn't deserve it but still.

"I didn't mean to, I mean I did but.."

"You were just trying to fight for your dream."

"Yeah."

Silence then followed after his response as you continued to clean the few drops of blood.

"Need help?"

He walked over next to you, looking down at the floor where you were crouched.

"Not really."

Once you finished cleaning, you left the room as the other players of Team Z entered the room.

You swore you heard some of them speak about you...

ADDITIONAL TIME☆

“Hahhh? Who was that?”

Igarashi commented after entering, looking behind him to try get one last look of the woman who left the room before the automatic door closed.

“Oh?”

Bachira’s mouth formed an O, also looking behind him.

“The.. manager I think.”

Isagi mumbled, turning to look at the now closed door too.

“…”

“…”

“…”

Silence, how awkward.

-

-

-

-

-

Additional time pt2

• [Name] saw a suspicious white stain on one of the walls while going through the halls of Blue Lock’s facility.

• [Name] called one of the sobbing players who got locked off pathetic and didn’t regret it for some reason.

• Ego Jinpachi thinks [Name] is an .. okay person. He thinks shes intelligent like him considering they’re siblings,, but not smart enough to surpass him.

• [Name] has “respectfully” took a glance at Anri’s “personalities”.

A/N: sighhhh another short chapter T_T..

[bloodandiron-if]

OPERATIVE D-6

Profession: Facility-trained "Field Operative" Weapons of Choice: Gerber Mark II [Knife] & Heckler & Koch P9S [Gun] Signature: Close-quarters. Silent entries. Clean exits. Always alone. Known Weakness: None. Unknown Weakness: You.

They sent a weapon to kill you. But they forgot what it was made from: Fear. Loyalty. And a face you once knew.

APPEARANCE

D-6 — MALE

He moves like smoke through a room. Muscles coiled beneath matte black. Not bulky, but honed. Measured. Precise.

His hair is short, black, parted hard to the left—a clean, disciplined style kept in line with surgical accuracy. It never shifts, even under rain or blood. D-6 stands tall at 6'2", his presence impossible to ignore once he comes out of the shadows. His beard is sharp: a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee that frames a jaw made to absorb punches and never break. His brow is low, steady. His deep brown monolid eyes, dark and unreadable. Not cold. Not warm. Just blank. A still surface with no reflection.

His skin is a muted warm ivory, pale but not sickly. The kind of tone formed by years under artificial lights, sterile and shadowless. He doesn’t tan. He doesn’t burn. He just exists, like a blank canvas sharpened by scars and silence.

There’s no hesitation in the way he carries himself. Every movement looks practiced, every step deliberate. The kind of body built not in a gym… —but in combat. In corridors where failure meant punishment.

He wears the Facility’s tactical gear like second skin: matte-layered armor designed for silent motion, dark compression sleeves under lightweight ballistic fabric, molded shoulder pads that flex as he moves. A silent sidearm sits against his ribs, and custom sheaths line his thigh and back, optimized for knife work. Boots padded and waterproofed. No sound, no presence.

His expression rarely changes, but when it does, whether it’s for your benefit or not is up to him.

Up close, underneath all the cover, there are tiny scars along his knuckles, forearms, and chest. He covers them. All the time. But they’ll always be part of him.

And when his eyes lock with yours, there’s no hate. No anger. Just hurt, confusion, shock and the terrible silence of someone doing what they were trained to do.

But will he?

D-6 — FEMALE

There’s a stillness to her that doesn’t belong to this world. A calm and innocent look sharpened by years of obedience, and blood.

Her hair is a neck-length black bob—clean and minimal, with (different from the image) soft wispy bangs that graze slightly below her eyebrows. Not fashionable, not expressive. Just controlled. Thick and easy enough to tie back or let hang loose depending on the assignment. D-6 stands at a composed 5’9", her posture precise, almost sculpted. Her jawline is striking, cut from stone, symmetrical and strong.

Her eyes are monolid brown, dark and bottomless, deep like still water that no one swims in. No flicker. No flash. Just... unreadable. Her skin, a soft warm ivory, the kind that barely ever saw sunlight, only the cold white glow of institutional lighting. It’s flawless in that eerie, too clean way—sterile and unblemished… until it bleeds.

Her build is athletic. Broad shoulders. Tight frame. Not slim but capable. Every muscle built for movement, not show. She doesn't try to disappear into shadows. She is the shadow.

She wears the Facility’s combat gear like second skin: a reinforced matte bodysuit with high mobility plates, a cross strap harness tight to her chest, dual knives reverse sheathed down her spine. Her gloves are fingerless, her grip precise. Her boots, designed for balance and silence, don’t make a sound. She’s the type to leave the room messier than when she entered, leaving in silence and resilience.

Her expression rarely changes, but when it does, whether it’s for your benefit or not is up to her.

Up close, underneath all the cover, there are tiny scars along her knuckles, forearms, and chest. She covers them. All the time. But they’ll always be part of her.

And when her eyes lock with yours, there’s no hate. No anger. Just hurt, confusion, shock and the terrible silence of someone doing what they were trained to do.

But will she?

DESCRIPTION

They called it conditioning. You’d call it cruelty. But for D-6? It was just life.

D-6 is a product of the Facility—not a recruit, not a soldier. An operative in the truest sense of the word. Someone grown in shadows. Someone taught the weight of a trigger before the meaning of a name. Trained in hand-to-hand, weapons, infiltration, and suppression before ever being told they were human.

They don't flinch. They don't speak. They don't ask why.

Their earliest memory isn't of a parent or a birthday. It's of a room. A test. A choice. And what happened to the other child who failed it.

They were conditioned through repetition and trauma, through reward less obedience and electric discipline. And in time, they became exactly what Whitaker wanted them to be:

Unquestioning. Unshaking. Operative D-6.

But beneath that silence, beneath the knife— There’s still something human, hidden deep inside. Something cracked and frightened and furious.

Because long ago, when the MC escaped, D-6 didn’t follow. They couldn’t. Too scared. Too loyal. Too broken.

And that moment still lives inside them— quiet, gnawing and corrosive.

So now, when they’re sent to kill you, they don’t know what they’ll do.

Pull the trigger?

Or hesitate for the first time in their entire life?

They haven’t decided. But when they do— everything changes.

[pavooko]

Yayyy!!! TOH OCs time!!!!!

First it’s Rjöth, whom you already know from my 1st bg3 playthrough, i decided not to tie him only to that universe and make another versions of him for other ones as well! So brief info on TOH Rjöth:

He’s still just Rjöth. No surname or anything. Simply the good old 27-year-old Rjöth.

He can’t cast spells because the needed segment of his heart (which witches use to cast spells, right? Correct me if I’m wrong) is poorly developed due to him being born a weakling

Was born somewhere on the outskirts of the Isles and soon after dropped off at someone’s doors (the doors were of some elderly couple’s house so he managed to get at least some parental figures before being taken to an orphanage after their death, he was about 6-7 yrs old back then)

Moreover, he didn’t manage to get his palisman at Hexside - no little thing wanted to connect with him — Rjöth was (and is) quite a problematic fella. Carving a palisman all by himself wasn’t an option as well: he simply couldn’t afford buying palistrom.

That lead to never ever graduating from Hexside, actually, he was expelled at the age of 14 for his constant absence and really bad behavior (lil bro is a mess, srsly), that’s also the reason he’s still unbranded.

But! When he started straight up wandering around the isles, searching for the ways to improve his state and finally learn how to wield magic, he stumbled across some ancient ruins and found a statuette of an eerie creature in there. It appeared to be possessed by a demon who called itself Derg. The demon and the young drow stroke a deal: every full moon Rjöth has to hunt down a sentient being and feed its blood to Derg so that the demon gives him the power to wield magic. He’s been practicing that since 17.

Also during his last years at Hexside he took up a job, a simple one, yet at least it was bringing him some money to make a living. He was doing some basic stuff like cleaning, checking storage and carrying stuff at “Uncle Marlot’s bakery” (it was located not far from both Hexside and the orphanage, plus he visited it a few times with the old people who raised him as a kid).

Though he left the job not so long after obtaining the staff with Derg’s statuette and started taking some orders from unofficial guilds or even taking part in illegal witchcraft tournaments to gain more money in a shorter period of time.

Everything was fine until he decided it’s a good idea to take an order from the official guild. It was the first time he was arrested (he appeared to be wielding magic and having a staff but not having a brand). He spent a day in detention and was let out with a branding referral paper which he literally ate right after exiting the facility.

He continued his previous job but started checking up on black market offers for the people of his working style. He realized he could earn more money by simply bringing the needed “ingredients”, gained from some dangerous monsters and places, to the merchants. However, when he had chosen the exact one he would like to work with, he couldn’t imagine his “job interview” would take place at the second floor of “Uncle Marlot’s Bakery”

So yeah, he’s working with the old two-sided man once again, however this time he doesn’t carry flour bags: now Rjöth brings him various magical ingredients which Marlot sells to his more “special” customers (including the wild magic witches. Even after the government of the isles started “ignoring” the black market stuff, it didn’t forget about punishing those who collaborate with those witches. Marlot is smart enough to evade being caught though).

Rjöth also works at his black market delivery. Actually, delivering orders instead of handing them out at the black market lane is Marlot’s signature thing.

If you’re intrigued, I’ll post about Marlot asap!!! ;)

[noobiestnoober]

Tactical Attraction (Wesker X Reader)

You sabotage his ride. He blows up your hideout. You steal his kill. He swaps your gun for a water pistol. Somewhere between the flash drives, rooftop tackles, and snarky banter, things get...complicated.

It started with sabotage. It might end in something else entirely.

🕶️ Tropes: enemies-to-lovers, mutual sabotage, slow burn tension, explosive chemistry (literally)

🔥 Status: One-shot

💌 Accepting requests for more Resident Evil, Genshin Impact, TVD, and TO fics!

You should have known the blonde bastard would show up. The intel was suspiciously clean, the mission suspiciously perfect—a setup if you'd ever seen one. The moment you stepped into the Umbrella lab, boots crunching on broken glass and papers fluttering like dying moths, the familiar echo of his polished, insufferably confident voice called out, and you sighed as if your patience had finally expired.

"You're early," Wesker drawled, stepping from the shadows like a one-man stage play. Sunglasses indoors? Of course. It wouldn’t be him without the overdramatic flair.

You didn’t flinch. Just rolled your eyes and cocked your gun with deliberate slowness. "You're late."

He smirked, ever the arrogant bastard. "Didn’t realize you were taking attendance now. How cute."

This was the third time in six weeks your missions had inconveniently—and infuriatingly—overlapped. The first time, you'd chalked it up to coincidence. The second time, you started suspecting sabotage. By the third? Oh, you knew it was personal.

You both had turned messing with each other into a tactical sport. Sabotaged intel drops. Replaced ammo with blanks. Sent each other into booby-trapped zones. Rerouted extraction teams and locked down exits. It was childish. It was maddening. And it was, oddly enough, starting to feel like foreplay.

Tonight was no different. As you reached for the final flash drive containing highly classified B.O.W. research, Wesker casually beat you to it, his long fingers snatching it with the grace of someone who had done this a thousand times. He twirled it between his gloved fingers like it was a toy, his eyes never leaving yours, daring you to make a move.

"Looking for this?"

You snatched it from him, fast and sharp like a snake strike. "Don't you have some viral apocalypse to plan, or are you just here to be the world's most annoying stalker?"

"Maybe both. Maybe I just missed our banter."

You froze for a half-second. He was standing closer than before. You could smell the crisp scent of leather, gun oil, and something darker underneath. Something magnetic. Too close. But you didn’t move. Neither did he. And in that moment, neither of you reached for your guns.

A week later, you returned the favor.

He was expecting a sleek Umbrella prototype jet. What he got instead was a rusting two-seater crop duster with chipped paint and a pilot who kept asking, "Are you that sunglasses guy from the news?"

Wesker sent you a selfie from inside the plane, sunglasses still on, jaw clenched, looking absolutely murderous. You printed it out, framed it, and stuck it on your fridge with a magnet shaped like a grenade—a trophy of your petty war. He retaliated by triggering a controlled explosion at your safehouse. (Okay, technically it was already compromised and you were relocating anyway—but still rude.)

Despite the pettiness, or perhaps because of it, the game continued. Neither of you backed down. If anything, the stakes got higher. The traps more creative. The fights more personal. You once broke into his facility just to change all his security passwords to Taylor Swift lyrics. He replaced your favorite sidearm with a neon pink water pistol. That one almost made you laugh.

One particularly stormy night, with the air thick with the smell of burning fuel and coppery blood, you cornered him on a rain-slick rooftop. He had been trying to steal your target—again. You tackled him, both of you crashing down hard on the soaked cement. You expected to roll off, gun drawn. But instead, you both just... stayed there.

His body was warm against yours. Breathing heavy. The storm raged on around you, but everything felt quiet. The world shrunk to two silhouettes locked in a staring contest, a breath apart.

"You gonna move?" you asked, your voice husky.

He didn’t. Instead, Wesker reached up and brushed a wet strand of hair from your cheek. His gloved hand lingered just a beat too long.

"You're infuriating," he muttered, almost like a confession.

Your heart thudded. Then you grinned, teeth glinting.

"So are you."

The kiss came like the storm. Sudden. Relentless. Honest. You kissed him hard. And he kissed you back like a man who had waited too long to admit something dangerous. Sure, you were enemies. Absolutely, you were adversaries. But somewhere between the sabotaged choppers and rooftop brawls, something else had formed. And damn it, you were so into it.