#but i think there's more. like why is he wondering if this is supposed to be a joke or something else? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-s-ter · 3 days

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"𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆"

— 𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: If you don't want your butler to reach a breaking point and take matters into his own hands by 'disciplining' you, perhaps refrain from behaving like a spoiled brat next time.

— 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: rough sex , unprotected sex , brat!reader , overstimulation , bttm male reader , blowjob , smacking , swearing , dirtytalk , praise , manhandling , dirty talk , age gap , virgin!reader , making out , degradation , petnames , non con , public sex.

PART 1

You sat at the long, luxurious dinner table while the maid nervously watched you eat the food prepared for you. As you took a bite, the maid grew anxious, eyes fixed on your every move. Moments later, a displeased expression crossed your face, and the maid seemed to brace herself for what was to come, as if she had expected it.

"blech!" you spat the meal you were eating. "This is disgusting! Make me another one!" you shouted, throwing the plate of food to the ground, shattering it into pieces. You glared at the maid, who nodded and hurriedly began picking up the broken fragments from the floor.

As the maid cleaned, your impatience mounted. "Move faster!" you demanded. Startled, she flinched, causing the shattered glass to prick her skin, blood seeping from the cuts.

You didn't care. The sight of her blood, her pain—none of it mattered to you. You were a just brat after all.

"Hurry up! I'm growing impatient, you vermin!" you scolded, your harsh words causing tears to well up in her eyes. She nodded quickly and, once done cleaning the mess, ran off to get your new food.

"He wants another dish." the maid announced to the weary chefs. It was the fourth meal you had dismissed.

"Again? What does that brat even like?!" one chef groaned, exasperated. "He's just toying with us. He enjoys seeing us suffer because he has all that power," another chef complained.

The butler, Kyzer, heard their conversation as he passed through the hallways. The chefs and maid flinched when he entered the kitchen. "S-Sir Kyzer!" bowed the maid.

"Oh, Kyzer, what brings you here?" a male chef inquired.

"Pardon me but I accidentally overheard one of your discussion regarding the unfortunate incident with the prince. It saddens me that the boy has, for the fourth time, squandered your hard-prepared meals. I intend to address this matter with him personally, in the hope of curbing this unacceptable behavior." Kyzer declared, his words resonating deeply with the maid and the chefs.

"Kyzer, we appreciate it, but you don't have to do that! We can handle him... I think?" another chef responded, though his voice wavered with uncertainty.

"I must. I don't want your hard work and efforts to go to waste," Kyzer said firmly, his resolve clear.

"K-kyzer, you're so kind to us!" one of the chefs exclaimed, clearly moved by his actions. "I just don't understand why M/n can't be more like you—polite, kind, and well-mannered, instead of such a brat!"

"Well, he's been surrounded by abundance and luxury his whole life. His parents never taught him proper etiquette, so I suppose that's why he turned out that way," another chef remarked.

"Hm... Would you also like me to teach him a thing or two?" "

"Yes! That would be wonderful, Kyzer! Please change his behavior if you can," the chefs pleaded, bowing deeply in gratitude.

"I'll do my best. Now, if you'll excuse me," Kyzer said, bowing before leaving the kitchen. He walked purposefully through the grand hallways of the kingdom toward the dining room where you were waiting.

A few minutes later, Kyzer arrived and opened the large door to the dining room. There you were, sitting alone at the long table, surrounded by empty chairs, waiting impatiently for your food with an annoyed cute expression on your face.

You turned to look at him, his long white hair and piercing yellow eyes sending a chill down your spine. "Who are you? And where is that maid? Why is she taking so long? Ugh!" you grumbled, sounding like a spoiled child.

"My name is Kyzer, your highness," he introduced himself, bowing deeply with one hand on his chest and the other arm behind his back. "The maid is in the kitchen, and it takes time to prepare a new dish for you, your highness." he explained, maintaining his respectful bow.

"Then make them cook faster. I'm getting impatient here!" you demanded, scrutinizing Kyzer from head to toe.

"I'm afraid I cannot your highness. I'm here for other reasons," Kyzer replied, straightening up.

"What?! How dare a lowly butler like you defy my orders?!" you exclaimed, shocked by his refusal. "What even is your reason here?" you demanded, glaring at him.

"You."

"W-what?" you responded, disbelief evident in your tone.

"I'm here because of you, Your Highness," he said, his yellow eyes boring into yours.

You felt a twinge of nervousness under his intense glare, but you weren't one to back down. Crossing your arms defiantly, you retorted. "Me? What for? If it's something insignificant, you get out of my sight!"

"Oh, Your Highness, it's far from unimportant because it's about you."

"About me!? Just what are you trying to say?" you replied while staring at him with perplexity and fury.

He was starting to get on your nerves.

"It's about your behavior and manners, Your Highness. They need to change—"

You snapped, standing up abruptly and grabbing a wine glass. You threw it at him, but it missed and shattered against the wall instead.

"Don't try and give me lessons about behavior and manners, it won't work on me you imbecile!" you shouted, your voice echoing through the grand dining room. As you met his gaze, you flinched at the intensity of his icy glare fixed on you.

You were slowly getting on his nerves.

Somehow, you felt a twinge of regret for your actions, but what was done was done, and there was no turning back. "I'm giving you a chance. I'll let this slide for now!" you scoffed, striding towards him and 'accidentally' bumping his shoulder as you headed for the door. "Tell the maids to clean up the mess." you ordered, but he said nothing.

Weird.

Just as you were about to open the door, he grabbed you roughly by the hair, eliciting a pained sound from you. He threw you to the floor, and you landed hard on your backside, hissing in pain.

"What the fuck are you doing!? If my parents hear about this, your head will be cut off!" you yelled, staring up at him, though part of you wished you hadn't. Behind those intense yellow eyes, you sensed something ominous lurking. Something telling you that something bad was about to happen.

"This is your last chance."

"Change. Your. Behavior."

You chuckled, "And why should I?" you raised an eyebrow, smirking defiantly.

"People are suffering because of you. Your crude and mean comments, your filthy mouth—they need to be purified. And I know you didn't receive proper etiquette, so I'm willing to teach you." he explained.

"Purified!? fuck off! They deserve it. I don't care whether I hurt their feelings or not, they're lowlifes! They don't deserve to be treated the same way. And those chefs and maids? They're just servants, working for us. They're poor, probably came from the gutter, ew! They don't deserve special treatment like us royals!" you retorted venomously.

And then he finally snapped.

As he walked towards you, confusion clouded your expression. "What are you doing—" but your words were cut off as he grabbed you by the collar and dragged you onto the table. You struggled to pry his hands away, but he was too strong.

"Get your dirty hands off me!" you shouted at him, but he ignored your protests. With a swift motion, he threw you onto the table, and you cried out in surprise. Landing with a thud, you quickly placed both palms on the table, using it to support your weight.

As you tried to regain your composure. He forcefully stripped off your pants and underwear, leaving your lower body exposed. Your eyes widened in shock and embarrassment. "Stop! What are you doing with those filthy hands of yours!" you cried out, feeling utterly vulnerable and violated.

You found yourself facing away from him, your exposed backside vulnerable and humiliating. As you attempted to look back at him, he forcefully shoved your head to the ground with his hand, preventing any movement. Struggling to rise, you found yourself pinned in place, utterly helpless.

"S-stop this instant! Someone could walk in here at any moment, you idiot!" you pleaded desperately, but he only inched his face closer to your ear.

"Count." he whispered.

"W-what?"

Smack!

"Wah!" you gasped in surprise as the sharp stinging sensation of his hand striking your exposed ass jolted through you.

"I said, count." he repeated.

"H-how dare you tell me what to do—"

Smack!!

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he delivered a firmer blow to your backside, the sensation igniting a mixture of pain and arousal that pulsed through your body.

"If you don't count, Your Highness, it'll only get worse and harsher," he warned, caressing your slightly reddened ass. "So please do as I say." he urged, his voice soft yet commanding.

Smack!

"O-one," you stammered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Smack!

"T-two..."

Smack!

"T—..three." you breathed out, your face pressed down onto the table. Each smack sent a jolt of sensation through you, a mixture of pain and a strange, exhilarating—....pleasure?

He seemed to be truly enjoying your reactions, relishing in the cute gasps and flinches you let out. A smile spread across his lips as he gently paused the spanks, caressing your ass for a moment before resuming with renewed vigor.

Smack!

"f-four!"

As the spanking continued, it eventually came to a halt when you ceased to respond. Sensing your exhaustion, he removed his hand from atop your head, understanding that you had no energy left to fight. Your rear end was now red and throbbing, you had lost track of the count. With gentle care, he soothen your reddened cheeks, offering a moment of relief and comfort.

"How many was it, Your Highness?" His voice was tender as he sought to ground you in the moment.

"I... I don't know," you murmured weakly, your voice barely audible over the echo of pain.

"It's 26, Your Highness," he informed you, his fingers coaxing your face to meet his gaze. As you turned to look at him, he couldn't help but feel a surge of desire. Your flushed cheeks, those endearing hiccups, those captivating eyes, those cute lips...

Fuck... Every aspect of you stirred an undeniable attraction within him, you were turning him on.

He gazed at your lips, inching his face closer to yours, slowly, deliberately. You tried to turn away, but he held your face firmly in place. He was so close, close enough to feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, close enough to taste your plump lips...

Knock, knock!

The sound jarred him from the moment, a surge of frustration coursing through him. Damn it, he had forgotten they were at the dining table.

"Your Highness, your food is ready," the maid's voice came from outside the door.

"Now, if you cause another disturbance, you'll face another punishment. You don't want that, do you?" he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an unwavering intensity.

"F-fuck you... L-let me go and get my pants! T-this is an order," you demanded weakly, still exhausted from the pain and the effort of keeping your screams contained so the maids wouldn't become suspicious and barge in.

Kyzer was going to follow your orders, but his eyes darted down to your shaft, which was standing up confidently. "Are you sure, Your Highness? You're quite... hard down there. You wouldn't want an uncomfortable erection, would you?" he taunted, his hand lowering from your ass to your shaft.

"N-no, it'll go down. Stop!" you stammered, but a moan escaped your lips as he touched you. "Look at this cute little cock, so pretty, just like its owner," Kyzer murmured, beginning to stroke you. You let out a loud moan and quickly covered your mouth.

"Your Highness, may I come in?" the maid called from outside, oblivious to what was happening inside the room. Kyzer continued to stroke you slowly, the deliberate pace heightening your frustration.

"H-hurry up!" you ordered, your voice strained with urgency.

"You want me to hurry? Then beg for it, Your Highness," he smirked, his hand engulfing your tiny lil sensitive cock.

You were embarrassed and humiliated at this point. You, a prince, begging for something? It infuriated you, but the thought of your reputation being ruined drove you to comply.

"P-please hurry up, please let—hng!...M-me cum." you begged, your teary eyes locking with his mischievous yellow ones. He licked his lips, clearly enjoying your submission.

"As you wish, Your Highness," he said, his pace quickening as he stroked you up and down, causing your back to arch off the table.

"Mmhp!?" you moaned, drool seeping from your mouth as you tried to stifle your sounds with your hand. He began to tease the tip of your cock with his index finger, swirling it clockwise.

"Your Highness, please let me hear those beautiful moans... Please let me hear how good I’m making you feel," he whispered. Lost in the pleasure, you obliged, moaning louder, no longer able to control yourself.

"That's it," he breathed, his lustful eyes fixed on your flushed face. Drool was seeping from your mouth, your cheeks were a deep shade of red, and your eyebrows were scrunched up in pure ecstasy. The sight of you like this almost made him cum in his pants. "That's a good boy." he grinned, his own arousal evident as he continued to bring you closer to the edge.

"Are you gonna cum for me, Your Highness?" Kyzer's voice dripped with seduction, his smile widening as he saw you lost in pleasure. "Fuck... You're so adorable when you're messed up." His face flushed as he leaned in, licking the tears streaming down your cheeks. The sensation made you shiver, and he grinned, quickening his pace.

"Nngh—!... Ahh! I-I'm gon' c-cum!!" you cried out, your body trembling as you threw your head back.

"Cum for me, Your Highness. Be a good boy and cum for me."

"A-ahh~!" Your cute little cock spurted, painting the marble floor with streaks of white as you panted heavily, sweat glistening on your skin.

"Well done, Your Highness. I'm very proud of you~♡" he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "I knew you could do it." He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Your Highness? Are you there?" the maid called from outside the door, her voice filled with concern.

"Let's get you dressed up, yeah?" Kyzer said softly, his voice a mix of amusement and authority. He retrieved your discarded clothing, his touch gentle but firm as he helped you back into your garments. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he adjusted your clothing with meticulous care.

You were still trembling, the aftershocks of pleasure making it difficult to stand. Kyzer's hands were steady, though, guiding you through each movement as he redressed you.

"Remember, Your Highness," he murmured, his lips close to your ear, "I will change your behavior. This is just the beginning." He smirked.

Once you were fully dressed, he took a step back, his eyes scanning you with satisfaction. "There you go, presentable as ever." He straightened his own attire, ensuring he looked impeccable before turning towards the door.

As he opened it, the maid stood waiting with your meal. "Your food, Your Highness," she said, bowing slightly.

Kyzer gave you one last meaningful glance, his eyes lingering on yours. "Enjoy your meal your highness." he said smoothly, before stepping aside to let the maid through.

#male reader #smut #bottom male reader #brat reader #male x male reader #yaoi #bttm male reader #top male character #mlm ns/fw #sub male reader #x male reader #x reader #male reader smut

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dekusleftsock · 2 days

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I think about this sometimes but I personally love that Horikoshi took the Yandere trope, split it in two, and gave one half to Izuku and Himiko.

Like it’s so fascinating how you can just SEE how purposeful Himiko was as a character in hindsight standing next to him.

Himiko is a really interesting subversion of her trope for two reasons:

She hurts people because she loves them, not for isolation or destruction of the competition (gore/blood is love to her, not necessarily a means to love someone)

She’s not possessive. Like at all.

I’ve seen that hc a few times and it always bothers me. Ochako is for sure a possessive character (we saw that with Hatsume around Izuku way back at the sports festival arc), but Himiko? Really?

You mean the girl who had a crush on a boy AND the girl who also had a crush on the same boy? Her?

You mean the girl who doesn’t hurt people who love who she loves, rather actively encouraging it in the first place? That one? Really?

Like it’s such an integral part to her subversion too. It’s what makes her such a weird and fascinating character. Possessiveness is supposed to be whats ugly about love itself, yet her love remains ugly without it. She is ugly because the fundamental ways in which she sees and feels about the world are considered “wrong”, “dangerous”, and “deviant”.

But Izuku… ohhhh Izuku…

He holds this trait like a badge melted to his skin. My man cannot escape these allegations. It’s to the point where it’s honestly a fundamental to his narrative. Izuku does not act nor feel the same without it.

Izuku holds a cutesy nickname that literally every other childhood friend of Katsuki’s has long left behind, saying his real name instead (this is honestly why I’m also uninterested in a scene where Izuku calls him “Katsuki” instead of “Kacchan”, Katsuki doesn’t represent the same things the name Izuku does, imo at least), izuku “give him back to me” midoriya, holds his dead body to his chest on a cover, freaked out on someone either hurting/offending Kacchan.. 3 times(?), keeping big boy ofa secrets…. The list goes on.

So it’s this main reason that I think their characters are just so. Fucking. Intertwined. I’m glad this has become a more common interpretation because there’s just so much that aligns between them.

Both of them call their “special people” with -chan endings, both by their first names, both deemed deviants/irrelevant by society. It’s no wonder Ochako fell in love with Izuku, just like she did toga, they’re fucking freaks. They’re interesting. They’re weird. They’re overly friendly and socially inept and a little beaten down by the world yet have too much passion to stay on the ground. They’re envious of the ones they love (Ochako of her freedom to be a normal girl, Katsuki for his raw power and harnessed skill), and I guess I just wanted to make this post because I adore how it’s all done.

I LOVE how the yandere trope is used as societal commentary here. Not necessarily as a way to make the main love interest jealous and feel she must protect the main character, nor for some kinky reason surrounding her character, but because the trope is built off of real, ugly feelings that can and do happen. That love can and is considered truly beautiful in all its forms, especially those of queer people.

So I especially love it because it isn’t just limited to Himiko, but Izuku as well. He may never hurt the ones he loves, but he would hurt for them.

A perfect narrative foil on queer and deviant forms of love. Big fan Horikoshi.

#they’re such freaks and that’s why I love them so much #and so are ochako and Katsuki in their own special ways #just never in the way people think #ochako is a little freak who may or may not think it’s hot when Izuku is a bit beat up.#Katsuki may also be a freak for being weirdly aggressive and so viscerally himself at all times. not even necessarily bc he wants to be a-#jackass but that it’s just who he is to call people asshole nicknames based on appearance or to scream mid battle #ntm my boy was bullied before he got his quirk so like. yk. makes sense that he’s so quick to think that izuku’s been playing the long game #bkdk #togachako #midoriya izuku #mha deku #bkdk brainrot #bakudeku #bnha deku #bakugou katsuki #mha analysis #deku midoriya #uraraka ochako #himiko toga #ochako x himiko

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blarshwritezz · 2 days

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I dont know if you write for the Omegaverse..

Because how about a Bully (Alpha) x Nerd Male Reader (Omega) like the two of them dont get the Second Gender until now.. So basically the Bully realise that the Reader is his Fated Mate and dosent want anybody near him, only HIS.. But is really dificult for the Reader to not only Trust him but is also really scared of him..

So Reader first heat is a mess (Like the Bully is constally pound him with meaty d*ck) and the Bully is constally tell him sweet and suductive things to try to calm him down, even tho the Reader is crying because he still scared..

Finally ending with the Reader even more sacred knowing that the Alpha has mated him and posibly '´mark´´ him?

Well, I never have before, but I'll try! Apologies in advance for any mistakes

Yandere Bully Alpha x Nerd Omega Reader

M yan x M reader

TW - Possessiveness, jealousy, implied bullying, NSFW, dubcon

Somehow, since your bully realized you were his fated mate, life only got more difficult. At least you could have friends before! Now he occupied all your attention. If someone made eye contact with you for too long, he considered them a threat.

Honestly, you almost preferred how he acted in the past. Back when he would mock every little thing you did and make your life as hard as he could on purpose. Back when he made you do his homework and beat you up if you refused.

Now, he had you tutor him. It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't make you sit on his lap, or if he actually paid attention. He just sat there watching you work and listening to you teach him. He would hurt his face in your neck and breath in your scent, letting his voice fill your ears.

No wonder he always got so jealous when you used to have friends. It was your fault he felt that way, or so he thought. But once he realized you were meant to be his, he realized it was everyone else's fault! They shouldn't be near what's his.

He completely monopolized your time. Whenever you weren't at home, he was making you hang out with him. He'd try to spoil you with things to make up for how he treated you in the past, but that didn't fix it.

He hurt you. He made your life miserable, and he knew he was doing it the whole time. The damage he caused couldn't be fixed by some nice words or gifts.

He just didn't get it. No matter how hard he tried, you always recoiled from his touch. You always got tense when he held you. You never seemed to believe him when he showered you with praises. You didn't like his gifts. What was he doing wrong?

Maybe you liked it better when he was bullying you? So he tried it. He tried being mean to you again. But that only seemed to make it worse! He didn't get it. Why wouldn't you love him?! You were supposed to! He was your fated mate, so you had to love him!

He could only think of one more way to earn your love.

You didn't show up to school one day, which worried him. So of course, like a good mate, he skipped school after the first hour and promptly made his way to your house. He knew where you hid the so are key, so he just let himself in.

And there was a glorious sight awaiting him once he reached your room. There you were, face buried in your pillow, ass up as you stroked your aching cock. Your scent was absolutely overwhelming, and the sight immediately made him hard. You were already in the perfect position for him.

He quietly walked around you, adjusting his pants to let his meaty cock spring free. He'd help you...prove you needed him. Like a good mate.

"You need help there, my mate?" He carefully got behind you, using one hand to spread your ass and the other to line himself up with your needy hole.

You gasped at his raspy voice against your ear. There he was. The last man you wanted to see right now. He'd surely take advantage of your pathetic state.

But at the same time, just one look at his massive cock distracted you, your mind clouded by thought of being fucked.

He didn't let you answer before slowly pushing into you. He had to take it slow, filling you up inch by inch. He didn't want to hurt you. Not yet.

"Shhhh, that's it, you're doing so good." He cooed in your ear as you whined.

Once he thought you were ready, he slowly thrust into you...but it wasn't long before he lost control. How could he not? You felt so good all warm and tight around his thick cock. He was entirely unable to resist the incredible feeling.

He was relentless, stretching you to fit his huge cock without much care for your comfort. Even when tears began to stream down your face, he didn't slow down. He just kissed them away as he continued his harsh thrusts.

You were just crying because you weren't used to feeling this good. Right? That had to be it.

"It'll be okay, you're taking me so well." He hushed you, his breath hot against your skin as he trailed kisses across your jaw.

Your choked moans only enticed him further. He could already feel himself needing to cum. He's never felt such amazing pleasure before. No wonder you were his.

His kisses trailed lower and lower, down your neck, turning harsher. Turning to sucking and gentle nibbling, until he was biting you. He had to mark you of course, and in the most obvious places he could too. You were his. Everyone had to know.

He made sure you were the first to cum, which wasn't hard. Your heat had made you more sensitive. He was enjoying every bit of that. And you deserved to be the one feeling all the pleasure right now.

As you own cum covered your stomach, chest, and the sheets beneath you he couldn't help but praise you more. "What a good boy...I knew you enjoyed this as much as I did. Don't worry, you have your whole heat cycle to get used to me."

He wasn't going to let you feel needy for even a second. He was going to fuck you hard day and night, filling you with his cum, until your heat was over. He was just such a good mate like that.

Again, apologies for any mistakes!

#blarsh writes #yandere x reader #yandere #x reader #anon ask #male yandere #yandere x you #male x reader #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #x male reader #male reader #male x male #male yandere x you #male yandere x male reader #male y/n

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dreamwritesimagines · 14 hours

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The Eye of the Hurricane [21] - Heirs

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Calmness is a facade.

Word Count: 2500

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

“I can’t believe I have nothing to wear.”

“You do realize that you’re standing in a dressing room with - I don’t know, a thousand dresses surrounding you?”

You threw your head back before turning to look at Bucky who was still in bed, with his back against the fluffy pillows while he read something on his phone.

“Well fine, I have nothing to wear for tonight!” you said. “Not that I give a shit about this dinner, but a bunch of people will be there, so I can’t just show up in anything.”

“Why didn’t you buy something beforehand?”

“Becca offered to take me shopping but I said no.”

He looked up from his phone, a worried expression crossing his handsome features.

“Charm,” he said. “Come here.”

You tilted your head. “Why?”

“I’ll feel your forehead, are you sick?”

You rolled your eyes at him and turned back to shuffle through the hangers again while he chuckled.

“I just have other stuff in mind,” you muttered. “Like how my father has been involving Ian more in the business ever since I had that meeting with Steve.”

“It doesn’t matter how much he tries to involve him, no one takes Ian seriously.”

“No one takes me seriously either.”

“People take you seriously,” he told you and you bit inside your cheek, then stepped out of the dressing room to lean back on the frame.

“Did Clifford say anything?” you asked. “Was it HYDRA or just him?”

“Looks like just him,” Bucky said. “I’m glad you brought it up by the way, because I have a question.”

You hummed as he sat up straighter in bed and you tried not to gawk at his muscular chest. The prick was used to sleeping half naked, -a human furnace, as much as you could tell- so every single morning and night you had to remind yourself that it was just a business deal, and you weren’t supposed to ogle business deals and their sculpted bodies.

As hot as they were.

“Why did you let me know?”

“He would’ve shot you otherwise.”

“I thought you’d want that.”

You made a face. “Of course I would not, you idiot.”

Bucky raised his brows before lifting your pillow to show you the small knife you had under it, and before you could protest, he lifted his own pillow so that you could see his own knife under it. You shrugged your shoulders.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” you exclaimed. “Other than the fact that we’re a cautious couple. Mine is there just in case.”

“In case you want to stab me in my sleep?”

“In case anyone wants to stab us in our sleep,” you said, your face burning. “Why is yours there?”

“A habit at this point.” he admitted. “Same with the guns under the bed.”

“Ah, I almost forgot about them,” you mused and he tilted his head.

“So you don’t want me killed?”

“No, I’d have to wear black.”

He blinked a couple of times. “Sorry?”

“I can’t pull off black dresses, ask Becca.”

He heaved a sigh. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Charm.”

You let out a small laugh.

“I happen to think we make a good team,” you said, leaning on your hip and a smile curled his lips, making you narrow your eyes at him.

“If you make an innuendo Bucky, I swear—”

“I won’t,” he said, holding up his hands. “I promise. So you didn’t let them shoot me because we make a good team?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “That’s one of the contributing factors.”

“What are the other factors?” he asked, hope shining in his blue eyes and you arched a brow.

“My carnal desires for you,” you deadpanned with the most monotone voice you could muster. “Take me Bucky. Rip off my clothes and claim me right here right now like you’re a knight and I’m a princess and we've been yearning for each other despite our kingdoms being enemies.”

“Incredibly seductive,” he pointed out. “Does your dirty talk always include historical tropes?”

“Yeah, always,” you said and turned around to shuffle through the hangers again, pulling out a dress only to toss it aside. You could hear his chuckle and you bit back a smile, frowning at yourself.

“No seriously,” he said and you grinned.

“My dirty talk sometimes also includes—”

“No not that,” he cut you off. “What’s the other contributing factor?”

You clicked your tongue, making yourself busy with yet another dress. The truthful response would be that you had grown quite fond of his presence against your better judgement, but there was no way you could tell him that.

This was a business deal, nothing more.

“Why do you want to know?” you asked back before stepping out of the dressing room to hold the dress over your body. “Is this pretty?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t even look at it!”

“You’ll look gorgeous no matter what you wear,” he stated as if it was the absolute truth and you pulled back slightly, narrowing your eyes to see whether he was joking but he looked very genuine. “You do realize that if they killed me, you’d have the right to—”

“To take over your family business and become the boss yes,” you said. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t want to be just another boss in this town, I want the business with my last name on it.”

“But does it matter?”

“It does,” you said. “Ian is the one who wants power and power only. I need the legacy as well, and I need—” you paused for a moment, shaking your head. “I need it to be mine.”

He offered you a soft smile.

“What’s mine is yours, Charm.”

A warmth spread through your chest, sending a pleasant tingling underneath your skin and you stared at him for a couple of seconds in complete silence before biting back a smile and turning around to walk back into the dressing room.

“Fine,” you said. “This dress it is.”

Neither you nor Bucky were strangers to being dragged to a dinner with other families once in every three months but this was the first time you and he were attending it with the rest of the families. This was also the first time you were sitting at the Barnes table rather than your father’s, and you tried not to go over to your father’s table to hear what he and Ian were talking about.

You and Becca never sat at your own tables anyway, but it was still quite symbolic.

George and Winnifred seemed to have moved past the argument from earlier, and Bucky played along even if you weren’t ready to do the same yet so you, Becca and Sarah went by the bar after the food was served and you’d had your dinner.

“Y/N?”

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at Sarah. “Hm?”

“Stop worrying about that,” she told you with a nod to your father’s table and you took a sip of your wine before looking around the room. Bucky was by the corner, talking to Sam and Steve while Natasha and Tony seemed to be in a deep discussion by Clint’s table.

“I’m not,” you lied through your teeth as you stole a look Ian who motioned at Ryan to come closer, then muttered something to him to make him nod. “I’m just…he’s still angry at me for trying to get involved.”

“Well, good thing there’s nothing he can do about it,” Becca said and you huffed out, motioning at the bartender for another cocktail.

“He barely said hi to me.”

“Well, your father is dramatic and so is mine,” Becca stated. “We’re used to that.”

“What did Bucky do with the guy who tried to shoot him?” Sarah asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Killed him,” you said. “After he made sure to get as much information as possible.”

“Not HYDRA?” Becca asked with her brows furrowed and you shook your head.

“No,” you said. “Doesn’t seem like it at least.”

“I don’t buy it,” Sarah said. “It has to be related.”

“Well if he was an agent of HYDRA, he took it to his grave,” you muttered when the bartender put your drink in front of you. “But I agree. Especially lately, they’re attacking everywhere and everyone.”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, desserts!” Becca said as she caught the sight of waiters walking around the tables. “Let’s have dessert! Sarah?”

“I have to talk to Sam but I’ll drop by your table,” she said and you nodded, then walked with Becca to the Barnes table, still holding your drink. Bucky turned his head when he saw you out of the corner of his eye, then made his way to your table and sat down right beside you.

“Everything alright?” George asked him and he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“What were you guys talking about?” you asked him quietly and Bucky heaved a sigh.

“Well, I need to find another person for the shipment issue after…you know?”

“Killing the guy?” Becca said helpfully and Bucky nodded.

“Sam does have a candidate in mind.”

“Who?”

“A new player,” Bucky said. “She’s supposed to be incredibly good at what she does, Sam is very impressed by her.”

“And her background?”

“Has been checked three times,” Bucky said and you all turned your heads when the chatter among the restaurant ceased and you raised your brows when you saw your father standing up.

“What’s going on?” you asked Bucky who shook his head.

“I have no idea,” he muttered and your father cleared his throat, then smiled at the completely quiet restaurant.

“Hello everyone,” he said. “I know that we’re all enjoying our desserts and drinks, but now that everyone is here, I’d like to make a short speech. Not to worry, I’m not going to take too much of your time, the dessert looks too good for that.”

Polite chuckles rose from different tables and your father heaved a sigh while Bucky reached out to squeeze your hand with his vibranium one, as if sensing your sudden discomfort.

“I find myself treasuring these quarterly dinners as I grow older,” he said. “Getting old in our line of work is a privilege, which…George agrees with me I’m sure.”

George chuckled. “Still younger than you Arthur!”

Your father waved a hand in the air while people laughed.

“I do hope that everyone in this restaurant gets to have this privilege,” he said. “And I must admit, I’m not ready to retire like George even though he is younger than me,” he said with a grin, coaxing chuckles out of people again. “There’s no harm in thinking about the future.”

You blinked a couple of times while Bucky sat up straighter, his body high on alert. Your father’s gaze fell on you and he swallowed thickly, then turned to the rest of the people in the room.

“That’s why I’m very happy to put some rumors to rest and announce that I chose Ian as my heir.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you let out a breath, gawking at him. Becca gasped beside you while most of the restaurant started clapping and Bucky squeezed your hand again before leaning in.

“Calm down,” he murmured to you. “It’s fine Charm, we already have a plan. This changes nothing.”

You were trying so hard to keep your expression calm that you had to bite at your tongue to focus. The rage shot through you like lightning, a hot tingling spreading from the top of your head down to your fingertips and you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to take a breath through your nose. You could see that Steve, Sam, Natasha and Clint were among those who weren’t clapping for Ian, and Ryan shot you an apologetic smile while Ian stood up, your father patting him on the back.

Calm.

You had to stay calm.

“Thank you, uncle,” he said with a proud smile on his face before turning to the crowd. “Well I won’t keep you guys long either, don’t worry.”

You dug your fingernails into your palm, trying to swallow the lump in your throat while keeping your gaze on him.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Ian said. “To my uncle, who has been a father to me for the majority of my life, who has guided me and taught me everything. I will not fail you.”

Breathe.

In and out.

“And of course, to Y/N,” Ian turned to you. “My dearest cousin who chose love as her path rather than business. I hope that both of us will be very happy with our choices and responsibilities.”

Motherfucker.

It was a well-crafted lie, you had to admit, so much that you couldn’t even make sure that Ian had come up with it. Not only was he taunting you, but he was also doing it in a way that every single boss, every single player in this restaurant would think you were just a love-struck girl who wasn’t interested in the business.

Just another mob wife.

“And I’d like to hear what she has to say,” Ian said, smiling at you. “Y/N?”

Bucky looked like he was two seconds away from pulling out his gun but you took a shaky breath, then stood up and forced yourself to smile at the room while Ian sat down.

“Well I guess you have no excuse left Ian, we need to teach you how to fight,” you told him, drawing out chuckles from around the room and Ian’s smile faltered for a moment before he raised his glass at you.

“Um…” you gulped down and stole a look at your father. “I think I was ten when I realized that I actually wasn’t the firstborn, the business was. Me and Becca used to joke about it.”

Bucky drummed his fingertips on the table.

“And my mom used to say that when you’re a good parent, you want your children to do better than you,” you said, making your father swallow thickly. “That’s the ultimate goal, she would say. Happier, more successful, you name it. She would say that’s the thing that would make a parent most proud.”

Ian narrowed his eyes, looking between your father and you, and you grabbed your glass to raise it.

“So, father,” you said, looking him dead in the eye. “I’m very sure that the person who takes over will be so successful that the only thing everyone will talk about is how much better it got after you.”

Sarah leaned her fist on her lips to hide her laugh while your father stared at you, then nodded slowly, gritting his teeth before smiling at you.

“Enjoy the dessert!” you told the room and people clapped as you sat down. Bucky was still glaring daggers at your father and you took a huge sip of your drink while Becca leaned in closer to you.

“Let the war begin, I guess?” she murmured and you let out a breath, then clicked your tongue.

“Yeah,” you muttered as you shot your father a calm smile. “Let the war begin.”

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arian-velikan · 15 hours

Note

Hiii!! I was wondering if you'd write headcannons for tf141 with a male reader who has a sleepers build and a fast metabolism, so he's kinda thin looking but when he flexes you can see the sheer amount of muscle on him?

Sleeper build and fast metabolism

(asks are open btw)

I think I accidentally wrote Ghost x Male!Reader💀💀

Price

At first, when he saw your file he was like: Ah it can be a good addition to the team :3! And he was right

You are pretty social so when it came to knowing the other's it wasn't really a problem.

He was kinda shocked when you didn't show any muscles, I mean...you are in the military! Isn't supposed to be normal having a good build?

You were training in the gym against a new recruit tho, he did see how you were under that skin, he saw fine outline of those muscles under the skin of your harms and upper back and dayum he was suprised! I think the first reaction was "Wow! He did indeed have these muscles!"

Same with rock climbing or just stretching or warming up for intense training.

It was time to go in the mess hall after a succefull mission and you where sitting and eating you food on the plates, with your captain, in a corner. You see, this was you 3 plate and you were still hungry???

"{Male!Reader}, this is your third plate and you are not finished? How many kilos are you using per day?" "Oh? I don't *munch* know- just waist a lot and I feel hungry lots of times-"

That was why you always brought 4 bars of choco-protein with you during missions

After learning this, he made sure to bring some food with him during long missions.

After 4 hours of walking towards an enemy base? You need energy! Hear is your bread, now eat-

He can't leave you starving with adrenaline! He needs you well fed and prepared >:(

Ghost

Didn't care. You could get the job done? Cool now don't bother me with your shit.

After some months of you staying in the team he started wondering with you looked like...a civilian? I mean, you trained every day with him for 3 hours and he didn't see an ounce of build on you...mind you that he observes!

So, that thought kept hunting him every day. During missions? He decided to steal glances at you even when you were heavely geared up but that didn't sooth his mind cuz you didn't show not even a small image of that well built muscles...only the fabric of your clothes.

But that occasion came when you two where in the common showers after everyone left and you two where the last since you two trained more than the usual (Ghost's idea)

After you entered the hot water, you stretched relieving the tension of your muscles and god if Ghost was watching...You were fantastic, I mean, sturdy muscles covered by that scarred skin? He could faint there and die like a happy man!

"Simon you fucking bleeding from your nose! Did a vein broke?????."

After that he started to notice one other thing, you were a fucking pitless well

"It's your third meal or Carbonara mate...how come you not full?"

"Fast metabolism...need to be well fed to function well, 'm not like you who doesn't eat properly"

Ghost arched an eyebrow under his mask and smiled but after that conversation he understood.

After a mission that lasted for only three hours (don't ask me why), he found you sat on a rock eating or rather gulping down a whole piece of bread.

"Yeah, even after this much time...he gets hungry💀"

Soap

High energy? Fast building sweeper of bodies? Fast? Strong? You can count that man to be yeh pal instantly

I think that he didn't mind having another guy in his team, I mean, Price choose you so he doesn't say anything

During physical training, in a run test he noticed how fast you were finishing in record time and producing little to no sweat and only drinking down a few gulps of water

"How the heck did you finish this fast? You run 3 seconds less!"

"Eh, I have been training a lot" You said while stretching in front of the line for another round.

The moment he looked at you, he saw the sheer amount of muscles you packed under the skin. Toned and Athletic....he, kinda loved it? Seeing someone who could compete with him was a breath of fresh air since he was the first of the courses or training.

looking back though, he wondered how you could be you so thin yet so well built and he was a bit worried. Worried that you could be not ok so he thought to be around you some more.

His worries came to an halt as he saw you eating 2 plates of pasta in a small amount of time and realized you just had a very demanding high metabolism. Noe that he knew that he made sure to have some food with him all the time.

"{Male!Reader}- do you want to go to the gym later? You know, build up some mass-?"

"Nah, Im fine though we can go if you want Johnny!"

He would be at the happiest man alive....who knows....maybe he wants to spend some more time with you as bros :)

Gaz

First thing first suprised. Suprised on how you can pack many muscles yet not show them. One could mistake you for a civilian yet you were not.

Even that, you had a bubbly personality and didn't back up for a challenge and he could faint there.

I think he would consider you another of his family, someone to spar with and have a good chat or laugh with.

I don't have much in mind when it comes to him but- he would happily eat with you but still be a bit perplexed with you.

I don't really have snything in mind for him. I am so sorry😭😭😭

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tetsuskei · 20 hours

Text

⟣ tartaglia

notes: based off the fact that i am indeed a sleepy drunk, and also inspired by diluc’s lore with firewater, also childe lore. he can smell when something is done cooking?

warnings: self indulgent, childe is referred to by his birth name, russian pet names, suggestive themes, fluff

it’s always a beautiful sight to see your boyfriend, ajax, when he cooks in the kitchen.

second to the battlefield, this place is his domain. the sound of soft music plays in the background, and he’s completely in his element. the ginger moves his hips to the rhythm, swaying ever so gracefully while mumbling the lyrics to the current song under his breath. he’s always been a great dancer, so you’re not surprised. it makes you wonder if there’s anything he’s not good at.

you always adore seeing him in atmospheres such as this one, especially with how much he loves to cook. his lips are pursed in concentration, a cute crinkle to his nose on display from the small frown on his face. all of his movements are skilled and dexterous. his knife abilities—albeit ignoring the fact that he’s a harbinger—are precise and quick, almost like everything he’s doing is a second thought.

it may be the alcohol you had talking, or the everlasting love you have for him—or maybe both that gets you feeling extremely soft. the urge to kiss away the expression on his face is high, but you hold back on distracting him and starting something else entirely.

and speaking of distractions, your handsome boyfriend is sporting a v-neck crew shirt and some sweatpants. much different from his sharp work attire. and although loose, the material of his clothes are still somewhat form fitting. his back muscles had been flexing every so often in a way that makes it hard to peel your eyes away. you silently curse his lean muscular self for looking so soft and domestic. just really, how shameless—

“hey! you’re supposed to be helping, not slacking off!” ajax scolds, pointing a wooden spoon at you in a chastising way. but the playful lit to his tone suggests otherwise as he cocks his head, smiling. “mila, what are you daydreaming about from over there?”

you giggle, “sorry, i’m just admiring the view.”

he hums, his smile growing. “and is the view to your liking?”

“it’s likely.” you answering padding over to him.

“i hope so. i don’t look this good for nothing.”

once in his radius, he pulls you into his side, swaying you both as he stirs the food. he quietly tells you it’s his mother’s recipe and his favorite thing to make.

“may i try some?” you ask.

wordlessly, your boyfriend holds out a spoonful for you, and you happily eat off of the utensil. the juices and flavors evade your mouth, beating the rich aroma you’ve succumbed to long ago.

you close your eyes in bliss, blinking them open happily. “wow! it’s delicious, ‘jax!”

“it’s not done yet.” he explains, humbly. “almost, but not quite.”

“okay, perfectionist.” you laugh, going back for more. “still good enough to me.”

he pushes your hand back. “you’ll spoil your appetite.” he warns, frowning.

“i promise i don’t want a lot. just a smidge more. please?” you look up at him with the biggest doe eyes you can muster, and he falters, trying to look away and focus back on what he’s doing.

as uncharacteristic as it may seem, ajax does not put up very much of a fight. not that he could ever say no to you anyways.

he sighs, “alright…fine.”

while you sit and eat (after clearly giving up on helping), your boyfriend starts to ramble about some theater performance he wants to take you to in fontaine.

“so what do you think?”

you hum quietly in response, your cheek on your hand. “mmh that sounds nice…”

ajax glances over at you, concerned. you had grown awfully quiet.

“are you alright?” he asks, inspecting the rest of you for any strange signs. “we don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“i want to, yes!” your thoughts are jumbled. “and m’fine. why?” you add to reassure him, “just tired.”

‘tired? you were fine just fifteen minutes ago. so full of energy, actually’ he thinks, watching the way your eyes are suddenly drooping.

“well don’t worry, i’m almost done.” ajax assures.

“hey. did you put this in the food?” you hold up the open bottle of white wine, and some of the contents spill out. however, your boyfriend is quick to grab it once seeing how you’re swaying.

suddenly it all clicks in his brain. “ahh, i might’ve put in too much.” he chuckles, now noting the smell of the food a little bit different than usual. stronger and sharper like the wine. “that explains things. plus the firewater we had from earlier.” he recalls you taking an impressive amount of shots, trying to out beat him.

“didn’t you once say something about sharing firewater with someone in the cold makes them trustworthy? i’ve done half the battle!” you say with pride, albeit wobbling a little. “let’s go sit outside later! we’ll see who freezes first!”

ajax stares at you in awe before laughing—loudly.

“milaya, you always surprise me with just how cute you can be.” he pinches your cheeks before moving his hand to your lower back, steering you towards the couch. “now come on, sit down. you’re going to fall over at this rate.”

“‘kay.” you mumble, letting him guide you. you don’t really feel yourself moving until the plush cushion under you meets your bottom.

“i’m just going to clean up and i’ll be right back. i promise.” he reassures, squeezing your hand before releasing it.

you jump back up eagerly, “i’ll help!”

“no, you’ll stay here.” he pushes you back down gently before standing up himself. there’s a stern look on his face as he says, “you’ve had too much to drink. that’s my fault.”

a small huff leaves your mouth and you pout. your eyes start to water. “then…at least sit with me!”

“the kitchen has to be cleaned up, lisichka.” he reminds gently.

your eyes grow wetter. “the kitchen is more important than me?”

he gives you a look. “nothing could ever be more important than you. you know that.”

“then…you’ll stay. it is your fault after all.”

he laughs, scratching the back of his head, “alright then. but only for a little bit.”

the minute he sits down, you promptly slide yourself onto his lap, wordlessly making yourself comfortable.

“oh? what’s this?” his heart swells. you’re usually too shy to initiate something like this, often leading him to pulling you onto him.

there’s a confused look on your face. “you said to sit down and stay here, so i’m doing that.” you blink slowly, head tilting. “did i sit wrong?”

“no, of course not.” he answers, kissing your forehead. thankfully you’re too out of it to tease him, or he’d never hear the end of it.

he shifts you so your legs straddle his lap. your face is buried in his neck, breathing in the smell of his aftershave and the pinewood scent of him. one hand reaches up towards his soft locks and mindlessly plays with it.

ajax feels his entire being burning with exhilaration. while he knows how to handle his alcohol way better than you do, he is not immune to your touches. he could get intoxicated and drunk on any little thing you do.

a satisfied exhale leaves the man and he closes his eyes for moment, his nose nuzzling your cheek. the feeling of your warm palms sliding across his face pull him out of the moment before your eyes meet.

you hum, staring at him closely. “have your eyes always looked like this?” you ask.

he blinks. “like what? and why?”

“they’re so blue. i’ve never seen eyes like yours before.”

“no, they haven’t.” he answers honestly. he tries to avert his attention away from you, but your hands grab his face again.

“they’re so pretty…like the ocean…” you breathe, now poking at his freckles. “you’re so pretty…”

the man is pretty sure he’s blushing right now when you speak, rambling and comparing him like the sea. of the comforting warmth and unpredictability of the weather, all comparable to his nature—which you love.

you must be trying to kill him, because what he doesn’t expect next is for you to kiss him on the nose, and then his cheeks.

by the time he’s chasing your lips with his own, you’re pulling back, giggling quietly.

“hey, you can’t just tease like that—“ you slump against him, and he freezes, eyes widening.

“milaya?”

“…”

pulling your face back from his chest, he notes that you’ve passed out.

ajax tugs you tight in his hold, tucking your face in the crook of his neck. the smell of your hair makes his heart grow even bigger and fonder.

“by the tsaritsa, my cute girlfriend can’t hold her alcohol well,” he laughs to himself, absently tracing shapes into your lower back, “i’m sure glad this happened at home, or god knows what would happen out in public.”

he doesn’t really know if he’d be more worried about your own safety, or the things he’d do if someone dared to take advantage of you.

either way, his endless vow to protect you couldn’t be broken anyway anyhow. not even in death. he’d be loyal to you for a thousand life times.

bonus:

waking up groggily, you rub your eyes, shield them from from the unavoidable brightness of the sun.

while warm light hits your face, it only makes you feel hot and cold all at the same time. a feeling that should be welcoming only suffocates you instead as an ache converges the nerve points in your head.

“rise and shine sleeping beauty.”

you turn limply, eyes widening at the sight of ajax standing in the doorway.

“i was really hoping on you waking up soon.” he says pushing the door open further. he holds a tray of food in his hands. padding over to you he nods to the water and ibuprofen on the bedside table. “once you eat some, you should really take that.”

maybe its the sleep in your eyes or the fact that you’re not fully awake yet, but you tear up. “you’re always taking care of me.”

“yep, that is my job.” he places the food down, leaning over to kiss away any stray tears.

“thank you.”

he clicks his tongue. “what did i tell you about thanking me for things like this?”

you roll your eyes. such a stubborn man.

you quietly tell him that your brain is foggy, and while you partially don’t want to know, wish that he recall what last happened when you were awake.

“you should’ve seen how cute you were while drunk. i don’t think i could ever forget it.” he laughs once he’s done recapping.

blood rushes to your cheeks, your face aflame. “i’m not going to be able to live this down, am i?”

ajax laughs again, “don’t think so! although, being passed out for pretty much the whole day is alarming, so i don’t think we will be letting you near any alcohol anytime soon.”

your shoulders droop, “i guess that’s fair…”

“don’t be so sad! here, let me feed you!” he moves behind you, sitting down on the bed so his legs are on either side of you. his chest presses into your backside as he reaches for the food.

“‘jax i can feed myself just fine.” you say, going for the spoon, but his reflexes are faster.

“please?” he looks down at you, hoping his ocean hues favor him.

you sigh. “fine.”

the two of you sit in comfortable silence as he feeds you, and you being hungrier than you realize, finish everything quickly.

“i almost forgot! you owe me something.” he says coyly.

you frown, “huh?”

“after all that teasing yesterday…you left me high and dry…” he sniffs.

you blink, and suddenly it’s clear what he’s insinuating. “a kiss?”

“so you remember?” he asks.

you shrug, “just barely…”

“well, know that you’re aware—“ he scoots towards you, knees bumping your own before he’s pulling you towards him.

a yelp leaves you. “b-but i just ate food! and…and i need to brush my teeth!” you protest, but he’s still hovering close over you.

“so?”

there’s no use, because the minute you open your mouth to reply, ajax swoops down, kissing you wordlessly and hungrily. his tongue brief swipes over yours before he soon pulls back.

there’s a mild grimace on his face, “yeah, go brush your teeth.”

you shove him back on the bed, making him holler with laughter, “i told you!”

“it was still worth it, mila!” he shouts after you.

“fuck you.” you spit.

“with pleasure.” he smiles.

notes: my mom added too much white wine to food she made, so she’s the running inspiration for this. shout out to her!

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin fluff

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skayafair · 3 days

Text

Ep 1 Rewatch Notes

So I'm rewatching the 3rd time and want to note a few things I didn't realize before:

This:

where Edwin seemed so sure he won't need these self-defence techniques is followed by this ↓ the very same episode. No wonder it ends not well. Should have listened to ur mate, Edwin!

Edwin identifies the era Emma is from by her hairstyle and details of clothing and purse. Someone's been studying historical fashion huh~

When the boys banish the demon from Crystal in the underground, Charles looks mostly alright despite taking the most damage (apparently ghosts can very well feel things inflicted by other supernatural beings and forget that material hindrances like floor or a wall or a door shouldn't be an issue for them), while Edwin seems to be alarmed and breathes fast as if trying to calm down from panic. I guess it's not "as if".

Table soccer line on the wall is such a cute detail reminding they are still teenagers.

I didn't understand the bridge scene with "Like, I'm being mean to you. - What? Am I supposed to get mad?" properly before. I do now though. Chaaaarles 😭 I believe it's a mixed bag of him keeping up his "sunny" facade, being able to communicate to another teenager who's alive (as a connection to being alive and regret that he's dead) and liking Crystal. Damn, that's too sad(((

Charles knows Edwin sooooo well. I can't with this huge smile after "You're really gonna let a little american girl die?". He was 1000% sure Edwin would cave in.

"Edwin this woman has a big cleaver-" WHY are you asking Edwin about it Charles?! 🤦😂

Ooooh no oh no oh no. The first case they take is a missing girl one. Crystal is crying while reading the mother's mind. Of course the woman can think only of her lost daughter. And THEN we learn that Crystal's own mother didn't give a damn. DIdn't even know her daughter was missing. My turn to cry 😭

Wow Edwin looked like he was on the verge of tears when Crystal confessed she let David in willingly. Heavy stuff.

Gods the whole "our deaths didn't matter" scene is. Idk how it can hit harder the 3rd time - maybe because I'm paying more attention to the details and have already processed some of their meanings - but it does. A moment of involuntary vulnerability, a true connection, reluctant as it was, and. Edwin is not collected in the slightest. It's not just that his emotions blew up - he just can't control them at all. This whole case with David the Demon became a very strong trigger and Edwin simply could not handle it at all. Crystal can't handle it either, she has her own trauma in full bloom. It's such a fragile moment between them when they decide to set this issue aside, even though it's very much urgent for Crystal. And poor Charles who's used to being a fixer is so lost the whole time because his words don't work and he has no idea what to do. Say what you want but the 1st episode is CHARGED with emotionally strong scenes.

Charles had a beef with Monty from episode one I just can't- 😂

"Keep mocking me, crow. I'll make you my friend eventually. Everyone likes me". Oh well, he sort of succeeded!

#dead boy detectives

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katyahina · 21 hours

Text

Godwyn and Fortissax fucked + I have an idea WHY Godrick's genes are so weak (his closest relatives' too)

Short post but I really like this topic hfhfdsf Okay so I double-checked the description of Draconian Tarnisheds and Godrick's dialogue, and:

The notion about Tarnisheds with dragonic roots having shorter lifespans makes me think that this is the reason; dragons and human(oids) are not the best mix! Godrick's closest ancestors might have had actual connections with dragons! Since it IS possible:

Dragons can shapeshift, so yeah.. existence of dragonian Tarnisheds likely implies that Godwyn and Fortissax fucked fsdhfdhs I assume her not just because of them being close, but also because she is unique amongst Ancient Dragons in being dark-colored and these Tarnished have coal skin,

At first I wondered if Fortissax' color might have been an effect of corruption, but then, again: if all Ancient Dragons are just stone grey, Draconic Tarnisheds could have had stone grey skin then because whatever connection made Draconic people had to happen before Godwyn became Prince of Death! Her corruption should then be referring to her losing a lot of her skin, with so much more gold insides showing through, and dark skin of this type of Tarnished revealing her actual color! (+ also post ( x ) on WHY I believe Fortissax is a she)

As for Godrick's and his close relatives and ancestors like Godefroy! Whereas Ancient Dragons refers to the rocky dragons from Farum Azula, there is another kind of dragons - feathered Greyoll's kind of dragons!

I used one of the babies around Greyoll and Agheel as volunteers, but you can see the dragon's body Godrick uses is certainly the same type of the dragon! Again, wings of Ancient Dragons for comparison, are also rocky and lack the feathers:

This makes sense that the branch of dragons Godrick is apparently related to is that of Greyoll's! We never see him use anything bolt-like, however, he does use wind-based attacks, like the rest of the Stormveil. His children do so too!

^ Worth to mention that Dragon Communion has connection with Godfrey (lion face is his mark), but the dragons laying in these churches are the Ancient types! These might be remnants of war with Gransax and others, since they did try to "defeat dragons by becoming them" as set of Dragonic Sentinels suggests! @fantomette22 offered another idea that maybe these Ancient Dragons instead were 'keepers' of these churches, and somehow had conflict with Greyoll's line of dragons. So, these churches came after Godwyn made peace between Ancient Dragons and Golden Order, and people were supposed to specifically consume hearts of Greyoll's dragons, not Ancient!

I don't know which idea I am leaning towards more, but I wanted to bring the Dragon Communion up just in case! Still, Godrick calls the dragon a relative and shows frail health, whereas act of eating dragon hearts gives you serpentine's eyes and makes you into a wyrm (most likely gradually lol). None is seen on him or his children, so I assume relation refers to mixing blood, not to the act of him or his ancestors consuming the hearts! In other words, if Ancient Dragons could turn into humanoids and have children (+descendants like Draconic Tarnished), maybe Greyoll's type could do this as well? 🤔

@val-of-the-north on the other hand, suggested an idea that rather than Greyoll's type of dragons being directly involved, it is all the same kind of genes of Ancient Dragons but having "evolved" into being like Greyoll's type! So, like her kind of dragons are more 'earthly' type, that evolved from Ancient Dragons straying further from perfection and divinity but instead adapting to whatever effects them (looking at you, Dark Souls!), similarly Ancient Dragon genes IN Golden Lineage changed too. And in roughly the same from-stone-to-feather manner, to mirror evolution (or corruption?) of the dragons themselves! I think this idea is very good in terms of how Fromsoft can't have enough of reusing the concepts!

^ Grafted Scions are also showing grey hair, despite being very young! It is not all grey yet and original color is likely black; same as hair of wandering nobles, which would make sense for whatever women Godrick slept with apparently to be noble too. Early grey hair could be manifestation of this poor health and shortened lifespan! Maybe humans with dragon blood in mix die early because they age early, but for Demigods it is just early aging.

(Video by Zullie the Witch ( x )) ^ At this rate I wonder whether these wings and feathers were actually grafted though, of they are sort of a side-effect of this "heritage" xd Like, sure, Stormveil is very much associated with the hawks, but modern Dragons ALSO having feathers makes me wonder! Especially since Godrick himself doesn't have any wings and feathers grafted on him, but the Noble Scions do.. Imagine feathers just showing on them because they are young, and maybe Godrick also used to grow feathers but they fell out by now due to simply his age!

______________

Conclusion: don't have children with the dragons while Godfrey isn't looking or something they will turn out kinda sick and frail idk

#elden ring #godrick the grafted #grafted scion #lichdragon fortissax #elden ring theory #elden ring headcanons #not art #text post #elden ring reference #screenshots #tbh Val's idea IS very good because that was kinda what happened with dragons in DS!#like notice how ancient dragons are fine but Greyoll's type adapts to every other environment element #like scarlet rot or glintstone or ice!#@dlc I am waiting for my Sleep dragon xd

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abybweisse · 3 days

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Ch212 (p1), Now boarding

About all that's missing here is the cover art without the titles. I'll give some commentary here, but there will be more posts later.

They are taking a train from Reading to Brighton, but I don't know why or how they were in Reading. As I mentioned in a previous spoiler post, they were at Lau's opium den, which is located in Limehouse district, in East London. Reading is quite a ways off to the west.

They get on the train at Reading, and there's a stop on the way to Brighton at Redhill. I was looking online earlier for Redhill and Reading, and I found that Reading has an area called Earley, while Redhill has an area called Earlswood. It's commonly accepted that Phantomhive Manor is generally west of London, in the outskirts. But how far out? And just west... or northwest or southwest? Either of these places could be near the manor.

Anyway, they somehow got first class tickets, even though last chapter our earl said they were broke. Also, they are supposed to be in hiding, as they are fugitives from the law. This pic might have them sitting in silence, worried they might be found before the train even leaves the station. Once they get going, they might be a bit safer.

Sebastian is full of snark this chapter. He suggests our earl go eat some breakfast in the dining car. When our earl points out it's unwise, Sebastian basically says they won't be looking there because they wouldn't expect him to be so bold.

In the dining car, they are serving a full English breakfast. As I said before, I see: beans, bacon, sausages, mashed potatoes, sliced mushrooms, a couple slices of what would probably be blood sausage (as a couple people have pointed out, this is commonly called "black pudding" in the UK), a tomato slice, and a sprig of parsley. I'm wondering if the parsley was included as a joke, that if you add something like parsley or rosemary sprigs, all of a sudden it's fancy. 😆

Sebastian openly talks about humans (again) as if he's not one, when he's supposed to be pretending he is. 🙄 And he's telling our earl to eat so he won't be slow to think or move, if they need to think and act fast. He needs this human to be ready for whatever's next.

More soon....

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 2 days

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Prompt: Evan tells Tommy to “Get ready for a rigorous night” or “get ready to burn lots of calories and sweat” or something suggestive so Tommy thinks he’s getting lucky and it’s nice to see Buck take charge; but then when Evan comes over, whatever he was referring to/bringing was NOT Sex

Nonny, I had so much fun with this, thank you :) This is fluff and crack, I suppose. And I'm not sorry. Once more Tommy's POV. Have fun! Here's all 4 prompt fills on AO3 in case anybody wants to leave a keysmash :)

You're Mine

— I’m burning inside and we both know why —

"Get ready for a rigorous night!"

Tommy chokes on the coffee that Buck has shoved into his hand just a minute ago (he’s eager to buy coffee for Tommy since he’s finally learned his preferred method of preparation). And then, with that cheeky wide grin, the guy bursts out something like that, in the middle of the sidewalk, still within earshot of the fire station.

Buck pats him on the shoulders, around which he puts his arm a moment later and asks, "You all right?"

"This coffee is just hot. It’s a very hot coffee. Wh… what did you say?"

It’s not like Tommy to stutter, but Buck still has that sassy look on his pretty face.

"I've got plans for us tonight," Buck exclaims, gesticulating fiercely –is he just excited or is he already aroused? You never know with this man.

"Plans."

Tommy tries very hard to make a deadpan face, but how could anybody, talking to Buck?

"Oh yeah," Buck returns as he opens the driver's door of Tommy's car, "but my lips are sealed, prepare for a surprise."

Tommy is definitely surprised. And confused. He puts his coffee on the roof of the car to check his pockets for the keys, still wondering why Buck gets behind the wheel of his vehicle (and why he’s willing to give him the keys, should he finally find them).

He finds them, and yes, Buck drives Tommy’s car, that's as self-evident as how he slipped into Tommy's life in the first place or that they’re headed for the loft. During the ride, they talk about all sorts of things, which you have to give Buck credit for because usually, the man has a hard time keeping a secret. Tommy is only half listening, still processing the announcement of a „rigorous night“.

But they’re still in the middle of Buck's discovery process. Buck is no doubt eager when it comes to that topic, and his sexual experiences are, well, a subject of conversation in other fire stations, too. The rumors are hardly exaggerated, because Tommy also has already learned a lot about Buck so far. For example, that his bedroom voice is a whole octave lower, and that he’s exceptionally keen on (and good at) dirty talking in this voice. Or that he writes such unrestrained text messages that Tommy turns off his phone if there’s a risk that someone might accidentally glance at his display. He’s a good, no, a perfect kisser, he loves to touch and makes the cutest little noises when he’s touched.

And that’s about it.

Tommy wonders if this is his fault. Of course, their shifts often don't match, they don't see each other as often as they both would like, but maybe it's because he's holding back too much. If growing up in a toxic household has taught him one thing, it’s not to push somebody you like. And it happens he likes that man a lot.

So far, he’s approached the whole matter kind of like a project you divide into steps and milestones, a project called „Introduce Evan Buckley Into Sex With a Man.“ He’s just taken baby steps so far, trying to give Buck his room, letting him decide when he’s ready. Maybe Buck has just decided that this time is now. And that’s actually pretty hot.

Tommy is quite distracted during their ride through a heavy evening rush hour. First of all, Buck drives like a maniac as soon as there is even the vaguest gap in the traffic, and Tommy is pretty attached to his car, his life and to Buck. And second, Tommy, who has made the first move in pretty much all of his past relationships – and has sometimes regretted it – imagines in somewhat too vivid colors what Buck might be up to.

"Oh, wait, I forgot something," Buck says, pulling across the lane at breakneck speed; Tommy clings to the door handle. No one should jump out of a moving car, but the impulse is definitely there. Tommy laments his squealing tires as the car stops, parked halfway straight.

"Be right back," Buck calls, and he's gone.

He virtually runs – you can't call it anything else, he doesn't walk normally – into a 7/11. Tommy looks at himself in the vanity mirror, runs his fingers through his hair and sniffs his shirt, and Buck’s back. He throws a brown paper bag onto the back seat.

"Can't miss this," he says.

That crooked grin and the slightly flushed cheeks are a bit of a giveaway. It's downright cute, he must have bought condoms. Tommy slides a little uneasily back and forth in his seat as Buck starts the engine again. This has maybe as much to do with the fact that the guy is already exceeding the speed limit when he starts off as with the condoms Tommy has been carrying in his pockets for weeks.

He wonders what he actually expected. Dating Buck has been a ride so far, for sure. It's not every day that you get invited to a wedding shortly after meeting someone. It's also not every day that you rescue people from a sinking ship together. In that sense, this is harmless. Buck is just enthusiastic, and since Tommy has discovered that he enjoys being attached to those sensual lips, that's fine. However, the tension is almost killing him.

"Must be some hot stuff you've got planned for tonight," he remarks casually.

"Absolutely," Buck exclaims with a broad grin, and Tommy regrets asking, because he starts gesticulating again, and he would prefer Buck to keep both hands on the wheel. "You won't regret it. It's about time someone showed you the ropes."

It's a remark that is as cheeky as it is quirky, but Tommy realizes that he finds it very stimulating. Perhaps he shouldn't take it too literally, after all, they've never talked about such preferences before, but the idea is certainly... inspiring. Buck is clearly in the right mood, and Tommy decides he can play along.

"I'm already looking forward to my snack," he returns.

Buck gives him a look – oh dear, watch the road, Evan – and laughs, asking, "Were you watching me in the store? Ah, wait, if you can already guess what I'm up to, don't say anything. I've been thinking about how to do it for days, so don't spoil it for me."

"Don't worry, if you like it mysterious, I'm your man," Tommy quips.

For the rest of the ride they exchange more jokey and, in Tommy’s view, slightly lewd remarks, and if Buck's intention was to tease him into being restless like a teenager before his first time, he's succeeded.

While in the elevator to the loft, they make out a bit, which definitely heightens the tension. It looks like a romantic evening in Buck's apartment. He definitely planned this, Tommy thinks, because Buck had a shift and must have set this up beforehand. The blinds on the windows in the corner with his sofa are already down. Buck, who like most firemen thinks candles in the apartment are the devil's work, switches on a couple of fake LED-candles with a remote control.

Then he gets two beers, drops onto the couch and says, "Well, I think it's time."

"O… kay?"

Tommy blinks, thinking that's a strange approach even for Buck, but who is he to complain?

"Sit down, I'm about to start," says Buck and tosses Tommy the bag he brought from the store.

"Oh," Tommy manages to utter, "that's ... I mean, if you say so…"

Surprised, he realizes that he is nervous. He knows Buck is a go-getter, even in bed, but this seems a bit too much like they both have planned a project. If he pulls out a clipboard, we need to talk, Tommy thinks.

"So," Buck begins solemnly, "I set this out since Christopher told me... You're crushing the potato chips, Tommy."

"What?"

Tommy is still trying to understand how Christopher suddenly slipped into this conversation, pressing the bag to his chest a little too tightly out of sheer tension. Now he looks inside, and sure enough, he finds two bags of potato chips.

"I didn't know which one you liked. It took me almost a month to find your favorite coffee, so I thought I'd go with the two most popular varieties."

Buck starts babbling, which means he's nervous, but Tommy doesn't quite understand why. He rummages in the bag… there really aren't any condoms in it.

Oh. Oh, damn.

"Christopher," he says, and Buck looks at him with a frown that rumples his beautiful forehead, "Huh?"

"You said something about Eddie’s kid."

"Oh, right," Buck replies with a grin, and he starts gesticulating again, "He told me that you agreed with him on Revenge of the Sith. It being the best movie of the trilogies? Come on, I love him, but that kid has no idea. He never understood Return of the Jedi. I agree that you need to have seen both, but I figured you're a grown man, you need to form an informed opinion."

Buck takes a deep breath, and Tommy thinks that even now, in this fit of nerdiness, he's incredibly cute. This hits him a little unexpectedly, because actually, it should be a slightly embarrassing cold shower.

"This is about Star Wars?" he asks, and he can't stop himself from laughing.

"Yeah, sure... so you didn't guess it after all! Wait, what did you think it was about?"

Buck cocks his head, but right now, he so much resembles a puppy that Tommy couldn’t bear to pull the treat right out from under his nose.

"It's not that important," Tommy waves it off, sits down next to Buck and fleetingly kisses his flushed cheeks. "Revenge of the Sith is the cornerstone of order 66. You need to watch it to understand the clone’s motivation in The Bad Batch."

Then he looks at Buck, who launches into a long-winded explanation of why Return of the Jedi is the better movie in every case, but he doesn’t really listen, he’s already lost in those blue eyes again.

"Turn on the movie and we'll see," he says, but he thinks he won’t be able to focus at all. There’s a thought rising inside him, and it won’t let him go.

Good heavens. I love this idiot.

#writing #fanfiction #my fics #BuckTommy #Buck x Tommy #Tommy x Buck #Buck/Tommy #Tommy/Buck #9-1-1 fanfiction #9-1-1 #9-1-1 on abc #firepilot #tevan #evan buckley #tommy kinard

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ickadori · 12 hours

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You right, i havent been giving my man choso proper attention for the longest....... buuuut,

Thinking abt repressed virgin nanami who falls for a hot milf or smth idk and just like.....hes such a tits man to me idk, would literally love to eat her out for hours and massage her and then take care of her infant so she can get some rest

I js realized this was supposed to be abt choso but oh well!! Still thinking about nasty fat dick naoya and ummmm pls ur dirty talk writing is literally >>>> like its in part why i got so hooked on ur writing (besides that iconic tall!reader scara fic oh my god(

Idk im just so thirsty for virgin male x slutty reader content like theres such sparsity, i wish i cld writeee like u!!! Anyways this was all over the place but im trying to get wasted so happy weekend dori 😋💋

cws for fem reader & lactation kink.

Nanami isn’t big on children. He thinks they’re cute, and he finds his eyes lingering on baby clothes every now and again when he happens across them, but he doesn’t give them much thought other than that.

His lifestyle doesn’t allow for him to - a jujutsu sorcerer having a child? It was a selfish, inconsiderate thing to do. He could die at any moment, leaving behind a child and a mother to support themselves..he wasn’t that cruel.

But he didn’t give you that child —a part of him wishes he had. Wishes he had been the one to slide into your wet, warm pussy, felt you grip him tight and suck him in. The one to pump you full of cum until it was dripping out and making a mess for him to clean— so this was fine then, wasn’t it? You had been doing well enough on your own before him, and you’d do well after him as well, so it was fine for him to…indulge then, wasn’t it?

“I’m starting to think you’re enjoying this more than me.” You sigh out, head lolling back onto his shoulder as his hands work over your breasts.

You had been complaining all day about them being sore, something about the baby not latching properly that morning and not having any time to pump at work, and Nanami had been more than willing to offer his hands as help.

That’s how you ended up sat between his legs on the sofa, shirt and bra discarded as he gently squeezed and kneaded at your engorged breasts. They were heavy, full of milk, and he gently coaxed it out, pointed fingers rubbing over puckered, sensitive nipples as milk began to bead.

“Just trying to help…” He murmurs, chin hooked over your shoulder as he watches. “Don’t like seeing you in pain.” You hum, hips squirming, and he wonders if you’d be wet if he put his hand down your skirt.

“You’re so good to me, Kento.” You rub at his thighs over his slacks, and the muscles tense underneath your touch. He squeezes, a thin stream of milk dribbling out and over his fingers, and he sucks in a breath at the feel of the warm liquid. “Fuck.”

“Hey.” He softly chides, and you whisper out an apology, head turning so you can kiss at his bobbing adam’s apple. He squeezes again, a steadier stream coming out, and he harshly swallows as a need begins to curdle in his stomach. “Can I…?” He doesn’t finish the sentence, and he doesn’t need to, it’s a request he’s made before, and he gets the same response.

“Just a little.”

He’s on his knees between your spread thighs the next second, hands latching onto your waist just as his lips latch onto a nipple. He groans at the taste of you, lidded eyes locked onto yours as he sucks, your milk filling his mouth and sliding down his throat. Your fingers are curled tight into his hair, hips still squirming and rocking against the sofa, and one of his hands leave your waist to venture underneath your skirt.

His cheeks hollow out just as his fingers slide past drenched, sticky panties, and you both moan when he meets puffy, wet folds.

“Ken,” you tug on his hair and he relents, tongue laving over your now puffy nipple before he’s placing a wet kiss against it. “‘s aching, Ken.”

“Yeah? Because of me?” He rasps out, hands roughly tugging up your skirt. You lift yourself off the couch to allow him to bunch it around your hips, and then he’s pulling you closer to him, face burying itself between your thighs as he mouths at your cunt over your panties.

They’re quickly tugged to the side, and he sighs into you, lashes brushing against the tops of chiseled cheeks as he licks a stripe up your slit - starting from your dripping, clenching hole up to your twitching clit.

Your essence is dripping off his chin and coating his face in seconds, and he relishes in it - breathing your scent in deep, suckling at your clit to coax more of your juices out, suctioning his mouth over your hole and swallowing down everything you offer him.

He’s greedy as he eats you out: hands kneading at the body he’s sworn to love and protect, lips mouthing at the first, and last if he has anything to say about it, cunt he’s had the pleasure of worshipping. His cock is heavy and leaking in his pants, but it’s the last thing on his mind, especially when you cry his name out and yank on his hair, a rush of fluids rushing into his mouth as you come.

He drinks it down as if it’s second nature, not protesting as your thighs close and squeeze around his head. His frantic sucking turns to languid, gentle licks as he helps you come down, nose nudging up against your clit as his tongue traces your slit.

You eventually ease up, body melting into the cushions as your hands slip from his hair, and he lifts his head up, tongue swiping over plump, wet lips as he looks you over.

His hand moves to his belt.

“…baby…crying.” You pant out, and the blood that had been rushing in his ears finally settles down, allowing him to hear the cries coming from down the hall. You make a move to get up and he stops you with a hand on your stomach.

“Relax. I’ve got it.” He places a sticky kiss onto your lips before he’s rising to his feet and heading back, but not before making a quick stop in the kitchen to clean up his hands and face, as well as making a quick bottle with the formal on the counter considering he hadn’t been much help with the whole pumping thing.

#nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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stunfiskz · 1 day

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random thought but between the amount of times he’s shown with black- off the top of my head the one black eye on his default talk sprite, his shop sprite, and his card sprites- i wonder if rouxls was originally intended to be black & white instead of blue & white

i can think of a few reasons why the change could happen. the first that comes to mind is simply for readability in his overworld sprite. both the smaller number of pixels to work with (which isn’t necessarily a problem for the shop sprite) and the fact that his first appearance is on a solid black background means it could’ve just. like. not looked good. this has happened before, too, since asgore was originally intended to have black hair but was changed for this reason.

(apologies for the shitty photo, lol)

also on a similar idea, him being black & white maybe could make the talk sprites look odd, since only lightners have the black & white talk sprites. also, someone i was talking to about it did bring up the idea that it could’ve been changed to try to reduce people thinking he was gaster which i suppose could be a reason? i shudder thinking of a world where people somehow managed to be more stupid and obnoxious about that.

to be clear i’m far from convinced i that this is 100% the case, there’s plenty of sprite inconsistencies in this game, but it came to mind and i think it’s interesting.

#txt #rk

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lookingfts · 8 hours

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More of older Kate and younger Anthony. It's a tragedy we don't have more fics of that age gap. It's always older Anthony - which is great but I would like to see how it could work with older Kate. So many possibilities. I hope one day you wiil be brave enough to give that trope a try. Maybe you will inspire other writers to do so too.

Here's a little more!

“Hey, Kate.”

She really wished he wouldn’t use that fucking voice on her. The soft, rich one that made her knees go a little weak and blood rush to her face, as if he literally wasn’t just saying hello.

“Hi, Anthony,” she said evenly, taking a sip of her Moscato. “Good to see you.”

His warm eyes flicked over her body, subtly, but not fast enough for Kate not to notice. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Truthfully, she felt a bit awkward. She hadn’t worn this dress in at least eight years, on Tom’s arm at some work event. It was drapey silver fabric, with jeweled straps and a high slit in the back. Kate knew it still looked good, knew her figure hadn’t changed much in that time, but she felt a little like she had then. Like she was playacting to fit in among a bunch of people she had nothing in common with. “Thank you. You look nice as well.”

Nice was a hilarious understatement. He was wearing a white button-down, rolled up to his elbows, and navy trousers that made his arse look like a work of art.

Well. He’d obviously worked hard for that arse; he did deserve to show it off, she supposed.

He smiled crookedly, resting his elbow against the table, and Kate took a breath. The last thing she needed was for Anthony Bridgerton to pay any actual attention to her. His glances from across the room were enough to fuck with her head. If he was going to linger around her and tell her how beautiful she looked, things were going to fall apart quickly.

“You didn’t look like you were having a great time,” Anthony said, some of the artificial charm leaking from his voice, replaced with genuine curiosity. “I thought you might like some company.”

Kate met his eyes. He was watching her intently, as if he had honestly been concerned about her, and-

Fuck, he was good. It was no wonder that women were burning their knickers for him left and right. He had multiple tricks up his sleeve - if they didn’t fall for the swagger, he swung to personal interest.

“I’m having a great time,” she said with a shrug. “Thank you, though.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been standing in this corner half the night.”

Kate’s jaw tightened. No way he had been watching her that closely. It was true, though - Violet had pleaded with her to come, but she had hostess duties and could hardly cling to Kate’s side all evening. “I think there are other people here who are actually seeking your attention.”

He frowned. “Who, the people from my father’s company? It may not surprise you to learn that they’re all dicks.”

That did not surprise her, but Kate scoffed anyway. “I was thinking more like your girlfriend over there.”

Anthony’s eyes shot to where she had gestured - the pretty young brunette who was wearing a skintight black leather dress and flashing a truly impressive fuck me gaze.

“Siena’s not my girlfriend,” he said, seeming annoyed at the insinuation. “She’s a friend of the family-.”

“But you’ve slept with her, right?” Kate interrupted. He looked a little taken aback, and even she couldn’t account for why she said it with such disdain. “I’m friends with your mum. Don’t bother trying to bullshit me.”

Eyes growing heated, Anthony took a step toward her, until they were eye to eye and all she could smell was his citrusy cologne and the bite of whiskey on his breath. “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you. I don’t even know you.”

“You know what my mum has told you about me. You’ve met me a few times now. Don’t bother trying to bullshit me, Kate. You’ve seen enough to decide not to give me a chance.”

Heat pricked at the back of her neck, something dangerous brewing in the static air between them. “Give you a chance to do what?”

“To get to know you,” Anthony murmured, his eyes dropping briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. “To spend time with you.”

Kate couldn’t help it. She didn’t know what else to do but laugh, at the ridiculousness of the situation, at the unbearable tension that strung them together. “You’re twenty-five.”

“Does that matter?”

“Do you even know how old I am?”

“You’re thirty-seven,” he said easily, not sounding fazed in the slightest. “And you’re smart, and funny, and fucking gorgeous, and I…god, Kate. If you had any idea, the dreams I’ve had of you.”

A shiver worked up her spine at the way he was looking at her. The face of a man dying to act out his filthiest fantasies. And something in her ached to let him.

Kate swallowed. This had already gone too far. She should have cut it off the second he approached her. “You need to stop.”

“Because you want me to? Or because you have some arbitrary reason why you think we shouldn’t?” he challenged. Reaching out, Anthony slid his large hand over her forearm, goosebumps erupting over her skin. “Tell me you don’t feel anything. Tell me you don’t want a single thing from me, and I’ll walk away and never bother you again.”

It was so easy. To just push the words past her lips, I don’t want you. You’re not worth what I could lose. Give up on this foolish notion of us, before it bites us both in the arse. He needed to hear it, and Kate would only be giving him the out that he would seek himself, sooner or later.

Instead, she brushed his hand off her arm, shaking her head minutely. “Good night, Anthony.”

And as she slipped around him, Kate forced herself not to look back.

#older kate au #bridgerton #kanthony #asks and answers #kate x anthony #anthony x kate #bridgerton fic

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scary-grace · 3 days

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Enough to Go By (Chapter 7) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Kurogiri snatches you from the alleyway behind the clinic. You’re ready for it, or as ready as it’s possible to be when you don’t know what Tenko’s planning. When you reappear, you’re not in the bar – instead you’re in the hallway outside Tenko’s room, and the door to his room is open. He looks pleased to see you. The hand’s already down off his face.

“You’re here. Good,” he says – but his expression shifts from anticipation into something sharper almost instantly. “What is it? Are you –”

This has been the worst twenty-four hours you’ve had since the night you first saw Tenko again. Between the visit with your family and the news about Kazuo and your encounter with Tenko’s master, you don’t have it in you to pretend. You take an unsteady step closer to him. “Can I, um –”

“What?” Tenko asks, but some part of him must know, because his arms lift from his sides, opening to leave space between them. You take another step closer, until you’re well within the space, and you know when he realizes, because he takes a sharp breath. “Yeah, you can. Go ahead.”

He hugs you back too tightly, but you’re probably hugging him too tightly in the first place. He can’t decide where to put his hands. He keeps trying different spots, but no matter where he touches you, it’s never with more than three fingers down. For your part, you keep your hands still on his back, resisting the urge to run them over his shoulder blades or along his spine. He’s really thin. Almost malnourished thin. No wonder his wounds take so long to heal.

You let your head fall against his shoulder, let your eyes fall shut. “What happened?” Tenko asks. He adjusts his grip on you without fully letting go. “Why do you look like that?”

His master said not to tell Tenko – no, advised you not to tell Tomura. But he also said he’d have no further dealings with you. You don’t know where Kurogiri is, what Kurogiri might say, so you speak as quietly as you can, your mouth just below Tenko’s ear. “I met your master.”

Tenko stiffens. “What?”

“Kurogiri took me to him. I thought he was taking me to you, but –”

“What did he want?” Tenko asks. His voice is tense, already going flat. “What did you tell him?”

“He wanted to know how I knew you. I told him about how we met last year, when you came to the clinic.” You feel Tenko’s shoulders relax slightly at that. “I used the right name. I don’t –”

“Here.” Tenko pulls away from you, but only long enough to pull you through the door to his room and shut it behind you both. “What else did he ask?”

“About my quirk. He said he’d give me one, but he changed his mind.” You try to remember, but it’s hard verging on impossible. All you can think of is the hand closing over your face, the enormous figure looming over you. “He said I was your game piece, not his. What does that mean?”

You look up at Tenko. Tenko’s expression is somehow grim and calculating at the same time. “He says everything’s for me. Everything should be as I want it, so he won’t take you away,” he says. Then, almost to himself: “But he was suspicious. If he finds out –”

“Finds out what?”

“Here.” Tenko pulls you closer than before. This time you feel his chapped lips against your ear. “I was supposed to say goodbye to my old name. When he gave me my family to wear.”

His family to wear. His family – the hands. You almost throw up. Tenko keeps talking, faster now. “I didn’t think about it. I hadn’t in years, until – and I feel different when I hear it. Different than I’m supposed to. I want the same things, but more things. I don’t know how to say it.”

“You’re not supposed to be Tenko anymore.” You feel him nod. “You feel more like that when you’re with me.”

Tenko nods again. “You always know how to say it right.”

“I know you,” you say. His grip on you tightens. “You’re in trouble with him because of me.”

“No.” Tenko’s index finger taps a pattern on your back. “I feel better when you’re here.”

That doesn’t mean he’s not in trouble. It just means he cares about it less, or he’s less worried than you are. “Just be careful with my name,” he continues. “Call me Sensei’s name around everyone else, even Kurogiri. When it’s just us, like right now –”

“Tenko,” you say, and he nods. You feel a little better, maybe. You don’t know for sure. And you know you’ve been hugging him for way too long. You step back. “Sorry about this. I –”

“Don’t,” Tenko says. “I told you. I don’t mind.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment. In your peripheral vision, you can see that the room’s even cleaner than it was the last time you were here. The coffee table still has a pileup of games on it, but there’s also an open energy drink can sitting there. With a flower sticking out of it.

You fixate on the flower. “Where’d you get that?”

“I found it,” Tenko says, but he can’t hold your gaze, which means he’s lying and he probably stole it. “So you wouldn’t get confused this time.”

“About whether it’s a date?” you ask. He nods without looking at you. “Okay. It’s a date.”

“It’s a date right now,” Tenko corrects. “The new members of the League will be here at midnight. Do you have a disguise?”

“I think so.” You’ve been carrying it around in your bag, since you don’t have a way to predict when Tenko will call for you. “Do you want to see it?”

He nods. You fish both pieces of it out of your bag and put it on, situating the veil over your face and peering at Tenko through the filmy fabric. “Can you see my face?”

“Not really.” Tenko tilts his head, studying you. “What is it?”

“My friends and I dressed up as vampire brides last Halloween, but I went a little too hard on the bride part,” you say. “I was going to use a mask, but it was hard to breathe, and I couldn’t see very well. And the veil covers my hair, too.”

Tenko nods again. “What’s the crown made of?”

“It’s supposed to look like thorns.” You cringe a little bit. “Hirono made me wear it with the costume, and I still needed something to hold the veil in place. Does it work?”

Tenko comes closer. A lot closer. “Not at this range,” he says. You’d have to agree. If you can count his eyelashes through the veil, he can definitely see your face. “I’m not letting any of them that close to you or me. You can take it off now.”

You lift the crown off, and the veil after it, and Tenko takes them from you, setting them down on the end of the coffee table next to the hand he usually wears on his face. They look unbelievably weird laid out next to each other – like the costume pieces they are, things the two of you can take on and off whenever you want to instead of symbols of what Tenko already is, what you’re getting yourself into. “The others won’t be here for a few hours,” Tenko says. “Do you want to play a game?”

“Do you need to do anything to get ready for the meeting?” you ask. “It sounds important.”

“The plan’s already done. I’ll tell you about who will be there, but we don’t need anything else. Just –” Tenko lifts his head as if to scratch at his neck, then lowers it again. “I don’t want to think about it right now. I’ve thought about it enough. Can we –”

“Yeah,” you say at once. “Let’s just play.”

You play Call of Duty again, starting off in co-op mode this time. You were so worried that your skills would atrophy that you made Ryuhei and Mitsuru play with you until you got better, something Tenko remarks on right away. “I can’t believe you practiced.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a sidekick if I stayed dead weight,” you say. “Don’t worry. It won’t last long.”

The two of you still have a ways to go before the intermediate levels, and with the pressure off, Tenko starts telling you about the allies he’s collected. Mostly guys – for whatever reason, there aren’t a lot of female villains. The two women are Hiikishi, who goes by Magne, and Toga, who goes by Toga. Magne’s an adult with a serious record, and Toga would have a serious record if she was an adult, which she isn’t. “Seventeen?” you say, startled. “She’s just a kid.”

“She’s a Stain fan,” Tenko says. He rolls his eyes, then takes out an entire group of enemies advancing on the two of you without looking at the screen. “So are two of the others. One of them’s got a fire quirk. He’s an asshole. The other one – he’s hard to get a read on. Keep an eye on him.”

“I can do that,” you say. You see a solitary enemy sneaking up behind Tenko’s character, adjust your viewpoint minutely, and shoot them before they can shoot him. “Who else?”

Toga apparently isn’t the only kid who’s taking on a life of villainy. There’s another high school student, too, and you think about what Kazuo said, about the question of whether the creation of new villains can be prevented. Two of the other new allies fall into the category of those Kazuo said would be drawn to violence regardless. You recognize both names from the news, and you’ve listened to enough true-crime podcasts at Mitsuru’s behest to know that at least one of them is supposed to be behind bars. “Did you break them out?”

“Kurogiri’s doing that,” Tenko says, unworried. “They’re the distraction. Compress will be doing the real work.”

“Compress?”

“We were lucky to find him,” Tenko says. There’s a nasty grin on his face. “You’ll hear more about him when we go over the plan. We – dammit.”

The two of you leveled up while you were talking, and there are twice as many enemies as before. You decide to drop the line of questioning and focus on the game. Playing with Mitsuru and Ryuhei, you never got through the first of the intermediate levels. Tenko’s better than they are by a long shot, but you’ll need all your wits about you to avoid dragging him down.

You and Tenko play in silence for the most part, working together as a team, and you notice the two of you shifting closer together as the game continues, moving from your separate corners of the couch to the middle of it. You’re paying attention to the game, but every so often your mind drifts – to the flower in the energy drink can, to the fact that this is apparently a date, to the fact that Tenko let you hug him and hugged you back. If this is a date, if he keeps calling it a date, there must be something he wants from you that’s more than this, more than whatever the two of you are doing right now. You could ask what it is. Part of you doesn’t want to know.

You and Tenko clear one or two intermediate levels, but on the third one, you know the two of you are in deep trouble. You’re low on health already, courtesy of getting dinged a few times on the level before, and your skills, while improved, aren’t good enough to let you hold your own. Tenko’s having to protect you, just like you were worried he would, and in the process, he’s taking damage, too. Despite that, courtesy of Tenko’s skills and your weird accuracy, the two of you progress to the end of the level. Almost.

“Come on,” Tenko hisses. He’s two seconds away from disintegrating his controller. “We can make it.”

No, you can’t. Not both of you. But if Tenko can get through, he can get to a save point, and you can finish the level later. If you both die, you have to go back to the beginning. With that in mind, it’s an easy choice. You maneuver your character between Tenko’s and the enemies sneaking up on him from behind, and shoot as many of them as you can before they overwhelm you. Tenko turns to stare at you in horror. “You died?”

“You didn’t. Go!”

Tenko swears, shoots the enemies you couldn’t kill, and clears the level at speed. He saves his progress. Then he turns on you. “What happened?”

You point at the screen, which is showing a slow-motion replay of your character getting absolutely shredded by enemy fire. “You were blocking for me?” Tenko looks unhappy. “Idiot. We could have won.”

“I was slowing you down too much,” you say. “I could help you get through, so I did. Now you don’t have to start over.”

“But you do.”

“I’m the sidekick. It’s okay,” you say. You’re not sure why he’s looking at you like that. “And even if I wasn’t your sidekick – there’s no way I’d let my best friend lose.”

Tenko doesn’t say a word in response. Instead he sets his controller aside, then lifts yours out of your hands and does the same. You’re sitting really close together right now. He said this was a date. You make eye contact with Tenko, or try to. He’s not looking into your eyes. He’s looking at your mouth.

He’s being really obvious. You wonder if he knows. “Have you kissed anyone before?”

“Yeah. You.” Tenko doesn’t look away from your mouth. “Don’t you remember?”

For a moment you don’t. But then you remember the picture of the two of you on Valentine’s Day, and what happened after the picture was taken – you taking the valentine from him, planting a poorly-aimed kiss half on his mouth and half on his cheek, and promptly running away. You’re surprised he’s counting that. But you would count it, too, if it was the only thing you had to count.

“I remember,” you say. “So this is going to be our second kiss.”

“Who said I was going to kiss you?”

“You’ve been staring at my mouth for the last minute and a half. I’m not sure what else you could be doing,” you say. Tenko’s face turns red, which means you’re right, but he still doesn’t make a move. “Did you change your mind?”

“No.” Tenko shakes his head. “I don’t know where to put my hands.”

“Don’t do anything with them for now,” you suggest. Your heart is beating faster. “Let’s just try it and see how it goes.”

He’s leaning closer now, shifting position to close the gap even further. The flush in his cheeks is darker than before. “I’m not going to be good at it.”

“Hey, I was pretty bad at Call of Duty last time,” you say. Tenko starts to argue that kissing and Call of Duty have absolutely nothing in common, and you cut him off. “You know how I got better? I practiced.”

Tenko finally tears his eyes away from your mouth. “You wouldn’t have had anything to practice if I hadn’t taught you how. You should kiss me.”

“I kissed you the first time,” you say. “It’s your turn.”

It’s quiet for a second. “Fine,” Tenko says. He leans in and you tilt your head to the proper angle and your lips meet for the first time in fifteen years.

You really don’t want to count the kiss when you were five as your first kiss, but Tenko’s counting it, so you sort of have to. His lips are rough against yours, not in pressure but in texture, and you’re careful as you kiss him back. Careful for a whole host of reasons. His hands are curled into fists on his thighs, and you don’t want him to move without thinking. You don’t want him to pull away, either, which is what he’ll do if you go overboard. It’s not the hottest first kiss you’ve ever had, but it’s the most intense by far. The fact that your lips are the only point of contact makes it even more so.

You’re trying to be careful, but you’re not careful enough – Tenko’s lower lip splits, and you taste blood. You sit back in a hurry. “Sorry. I didn’t mean –”

“I don’t care.” Tenko closes the gap between you again, presses his lips against yours a second time. “Do you?”

“I don’t want to stop kissing you,” you admit. You feel Tenko’s lips curve into a smile, spilling more blood onto yours. “But you have to let me make it up to you.”

“How?”

You unfold your hands from your sides and raise them, setting them on Tenko’s shoulders. Tenko freezes. You risk dragging your thumbs slowly across his collarbones, too prominent just like his shoulder blades and vertebrae are, and see his eyes fall half-lidded. A slow shudder runs through him, shedding tension in its wake. “Do you mind?” you ask.

“No.” Tenko kisses you again.

Kissing Tenko is – strange. It’s not bad. Definitely not bad, and definitely not something you want to stop doing, but still, it feels strange. Part of it is the taste of his blood on your lips, the almost-starved ridges of his shoulders and spine under your hands, the fact that you can touch him but he can’t touch you. And part of it is the missing piece of time, those fifteen years where you would have known each other if this hadn’t happened to Tenko – whatever this was. It feels almost like a blink. When you look back in your memories, you’re little kids, linking pinkies on the way to school. Now you’re kissing on the bed in Tenko’s room with Call of Duty paused in the background. Or making out. If the total lack of daylight between your mouth and Tenko’s is anything to go by, you graduated to making out already.

You can’t get your tongue involved without tasting even more of his blood, but the sound he makes and the shudder that runs through him when you swipe your tongue across his lower lip to clear it away makes it almost worth it. His fists are no longer resting on his thighs – now they’re on yours, fingers uncurling and curling again. You dare to slide one hand upward, tracing the back of his neck, and Tenko groans, shudders. The thought comes to you, again, that you should be careful with him. He’s so thin, so shaky under your hands. If you push him too far, he might break apart.

Tenko’s trying to talk without disconnecting his mouth from yours. That’s not going to work. You wrap your arms around his neck so he knows you’re not going anywhere and sit back. “What is it?”

“I want to touch you.” Tenko’s eyes are locked on yours this time, and the hunger and desperation you see there takes you by surprise. “I don’t know how to make it safe. I don’t want –”

Something happens to him then. You don’t know how to describe it. Something flashes behind his eyes, and his shoulders tense beneath your hands, muscles turning so rigid and brittle that they feel as though they could shatter. “It’s okay,” you say quickly. You shift closer to him without asking first, halfway into his lap, trying to give him some of the contact he wants without getting his hands involved. “You could go slow. Or be careful. Or if you had gloves –”

Tenko’s eyes light up. “Wait here.”

You shift out of his lap as requested and he gets to his feet, heading for one corner of the room. You take a second to get composed. You can still taste Tenko’s blood on your lips, and when you raise your hands to touch your cheeks, they feel hot. Kissing him feels good, is good – but you’ve always liked your makeouts a little more hands-on, and once Tenko’s able to touch you safely, you can’t vouch for how well you’ll behave yourself. Are you really the only one who’s ever kissed him? He must be a quick study. Even with his blood on your lips, you’re already missing the heat of his mouth on yours.

Tenko’s back a moment later. He has a pair of gloves on – gloves that are missing the first three fingers. It takes all five to activate his quirk, which means you’re safe, and he still has the chance to touch you directly. He hesitates before he sits down again. “Do you really want –”

“Yes.” You catch his hand – it’s safe to do that now – and pull him down beside you. He makes a startled sound, which you immediately muffle in a kiss. It’s cute, but there are sounds you like better. “I want you.”

You were going to be more specific with what you wanted – I want you sounds heavy as all hell when the two of you have only just gotten physical – but Tenko doesn’t give you the chance. He wraps his arms around you tightly, so tight that it’s almost hard to breathe, but he doesn’t hold you that way for long. Soon enough his hands are roaming across your back from shoulder to hip, freezing briefly when they encounter your bra through your shirt, all while he deepens the kiss to an almost unsustainable degree. It’s like he’s trying to steal the air out of your lungs.

Tenko’s hands seize your shoulder, your hip, and grip hard. You don’t like being handled roughly, but held – that’s something different. You swallow a gasp and press closer to him, almost in his lap again. His grip on you tightens further and he pulls you the rest of the way. Your lips unlock from his in the move, coming loose with a slurping sound that would probably make you cringe under other circumstances, with someone else. As it is, you seize the opportunity to catch your breath.

Tenko looks up at you. His fingers are pressing deeply into your skin, hard enough to bruise through your clothes. His chest rises and falls rapidly, pressing against your own, and his red eyes are wide, pupils dilated. When you shift, trying to get settled in his lap, he sucks in a sharp breath. “Hold still.”

You’re comfortable now. You don’t mind. You look at him, studying the small things, the ones you remember from before. The tousled, slightly messy texture of his hair. His eyelashes, always a little longer than you expect them to be. The birthmark at the corner of his mouth, which you lean in to kiss lightly. You’ve always wanted to do that. Half the reason your first kiss was so messy was because you couldn’t decide whether to aim for the birthmark or his lips.

When you draw back, you see a surprised look on Tenko’s face. “You like that?” he asks. You nod, and a strange expression flickers across his face. “My grandma had it too.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“My other one. I saw in a picture.” Tenko’s thumb moves in slow circles over your hip, like he’s rubbing a worry stone. You don’t think he even knows he’s doing it. “She was a hero.”

“Really?” You didn’t expect him to say that. He nods. “You never told me.”

“I was going to.” Tenko’s eyes shift away from yours. “I found out that day.”

That day. It takes you a second to parse that, but once you do, your blood runs cold. The question balances on the tip of your tongue, a question you’ve been asking yourself for fifteen years, a question you know you shouldn’t ask him. You don’t need to know what happened. You saw what happened. All you need to know is that he’s here.

“Hey,” you say softly. Tenko won’t look at you, so you reach out, cupping the curve of his cheek, turning him back to put you face to face, if not eye to eye. “I’m glad you told me now. Better late than never. It would have been good to know for our games.”

Tenko scoffs at that. “We used to play some stupid games.”

“I liked them,” you say. “I like any game I play with you.”

Tenko’s been avoiding eye contact, but now he looks at you, and your breath catches. You can’t let him look at you like that. You’ll say more than you mean to. “Do you want to keep talking?” you ask. “Or do you want to make out some more?”

For a second you think Tenko will opt for talking. He looks like he’s thinking about it. Then the hand on your shoulder shifts to wrap around the back of your neck, and he drags you down for another kiss.

This position seems like it works for the two of you. The difference in your heights is perfect for it, and it gives you a little more control over the kissing while giving Tenko the chance to put his hands wherever he wants. He keeps them well clear of anything too forward, and eventually he finds a place he likes for both of them – one on your lower back, beneath the hem of your shirt, and the other around the back of your neck. It keeps you close, as if there was any chance you’d pull away.

You’re kissing too deeply to talk, except for once, when Tenko pulls away to make eye contact. “No more dates with heroes.”

You only went on that one date with Sugimura. After the night on the rooftop in Hosu, you had to accept that your feelings were elsewhere. “None for you, either.”

Tenko snorts. Then, almost as an afterthought: “No more with anybody.”

“You’re trying to lock it down already?” you tease. “It’s only our second date.”

“I don’t care.” Tenko’s expression is serious. “I don’t want another sidekick. You shouldn’t want another –”

He trails off, searching for the word. The word that follows naturally is ‘hero’, but you understand why he won’t use it. “I don’t want that,” you say. “You can lock me down. As long as I get to lock you down. It’s only fair.”

When you’ve had talks with guys about exclusivity in the past, they’ve looked vaguely annoyed. Tenko actually looks pleased with the thought. Not that that stops him from ribbing you about it. “You’re the one with seven siblings. You don’t like sharing?”

“I hate it.” you say, and he laughs. “You would, too, if you were me.”

Tenko smirks. He leans back from you without loosening his grip. “Go ahead, then,” he says. “Lock me down.”

He really shouldn’t challenge you like that. It gives you ideas. You lean in like you’re going to kiss him again, diverting at the last second to kiss the side of his neck, and Tenko’s complaints about how you don’t get to lock him down if you won’t even kiss him evaporate in seconds. You keep kissing him anyway. He wants you to lock him down? Fine. You’ll make sure everybody who looks at him knows that he belongs to somebody, even if they don’t know who that somebody is.

His neck is sensitive, and he’s not the quiet type. As high as his pain tolerance supposedly is, he’s almost absurdly sensitive to pleasure, and you like the idea of making him feel good a little too much. You know it’s working when Tenko’s grip on you changes, when he starts scrabbling for purchase on your back or your hip rather than holding tight, but even better than that is the unsteady sound of his breathing in your ear, the little noises he makes. You like it when guys are vocal. After one sound that crosses the line into a moan, you stop, and speak without lifting your mouth from his skin. “Locked down enough for you?”

“Fuck,” Tenko mumbles. You draw back to look at him and find his face flushed. “Maybe a little more –”

You kiss his mouth this time. You’re getting used to the taste of blood.

You don’t hear footsteps in the hallway or hear the door open, but you absolutely hear Kurogiri’s voice issuing from the doorway. “Shigaraki Tomura. It is nearly midnight.”

You pull away from Tenko, but not completely enough – there’s a rope of saliva stretching between your lips and his, which you deal with by leaning in to kiss him again. Tenko’s clearly embarrassed by Kurogiri’s presence, but that doesn’t stop him from kissing you back before he pulls away. “Knock next time,” he snaps at Kurogiri. “Are they here?”

“I will retrieve them shortly. Once the two of you are presentable.” Kurogiri apparently doesn’t trust the two of you not to go back to making out. He stands in the doorway, watching as you scramble out of Tenko’s lap and Tenko gets to his feet. “So the date went well?”

There’s that syntax shift again. “Shut up,” Tenko mutters. “Don’t act like you didn’t break my rule. You took her to Sensei. You’re lucky I don’t kill you.”

“If his orders contradict yours, my instructions are to follow his,” Kurogiri says. Tenko’s head snaps up. “I thought you were aware.”

“Now I am.” Tenko straightens his shirt and settles the hand over his face. He turns to face you and you wince. “What?”

You’ve seen the sketch of him from the USJ incident. It’s been all over the news for the past few weeks. “The hands for your neck – you might want them. There’s, um, evidence.”

“Evidence?” Tenko repeats, puzzled. Then his face turns red around the hand. He hurries to the far corner of the room and lifts a set of hands out, quickly securing them around his neck. “Can you see it now?”

You shake your head. “It is well hidden,” Kurogiri remarks. He looks to you. “Your disguise?”

You forgot about that. You collect the veil and crown off the end of the coffee table and secure both over your head. “I will retrieve the others,” Kurogiri says. “But first, the two of you.”

Warp gates open beneath your feet and Tenko’s, and when they close, you find yourselves in the bar again. Kurogiri himself vanishes, and Tenko settles into his usual seat. You stand there awkwardly. “Where do you want me to be?”

“Sit here.” Tenko taps the bar, and you scramble up. “Watch everybody. Keep an eye on the Stain fans. Act like you already know the plan. I should have told you already. I just –”

“You had other things to think about.” Your veil hides your face better than the hand hides Tenko’s – your face can flush until you’re practically glowing and no one will be able to see it unless they’re right up close. “How will I know if you want me to step in?”

“You’ll know when, if you need to. I trust you.” Tenko looks left, then right – then down at his hands. “Fuck. I can’t wear these. They’ll –”

“Here.” You hold out your hands for Tenko’s, and when he extends them, you peel the gloves off and tuck them away. With the model hands on and all ten fingers exposed, he’s different. You’re not sure how to quantify it, but you know it’s there, and it prompts a question. “Should I call you Shigaraki or Tomura?”

“Shigaraki,” he says, and you nod – but then, as the first warp gates begin to appear, he changes his mind. “Tomura. You’re different than they are. They should know from the start.”

So he’s planning to make your status distinct from the others, right from the beginning. You don’t know if that’s a good idea, but before you can protest or push back even slightly, the first of the allies Tenko’s gathered step through the portals, and you fall silent. Unless something goes horrendously wrong, you’re going to stay that way for the duration of the meeting.

The first two villains to arrive are also the youngest – the girl, Toga, and the boy who named himself Mustard, after the gas. Next up is the fire quirk-user, notable because of his patchwork skin and the staples holding the living tissue to the dead. You stare from behind the safety of your veil. You have no idea how his body is holding together. It shouldn’t be possible.

Next is a heteromorph, green-skinned and purple-haired, wearing a Stain mask. He must be the one Tenko – no, Tomura – said was hard to get a read on. The one you’re supposed to watch.

Magne arrives, followed shortly afterwards by a masked man – Compress, definitely, because the two men who arrive last are the murderers Kurogiri must have just broken out of prison. They scare you in a way the others don’t, and you’re so wary of them that you almost miss the arrival of the last villain. And you really shouldn’t miss his arrival. After all, he’s the only villain here who you’ve met before.

“Twice?” you say, startled, and Tomura looks up at you. Luckily, everyone else is still getting their bearings, and at least you said it quietly. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Tell me later,” he says, and then he faces the other villains.

You’re not sure what he’s going to say, where he’s going to start, but in spite of the hands and the crew of monsters he’s assembled, all you can see is your childhood friend when he speaks. He sounds like he always did, laying out the details of the story before the game begins. “The heroes have regained their confidence. Because they dealt with Stain, they think it’s all been solved. I know that at least a few of you have questioned the effectiveness of what the League’s done so far. So have I. So we’re going back to what worked last time. We’re going to attack UA.”

Your stomach lurches. No wonder Tenko didn’t tell you. He must have known you wouldn’t approve. “They’ve tightened up security since your last attack,” Toga pipes up. “I took a look around, like you said. Nobody noticed me, but the whole campus is locked up tight.”

“Good work,” Tomura says, and Toga grins. Her incisors are sharp. “Toga’s reconnaissance confirmed my conclusion: UA is impregnable for now, which is why we’re not attacking the school itself. They’re running a summer training camp at a remote location, with significantly less security. That’s where we’ll hit them.”

“Them,” the fire quirk-user repeats. “Not All Might.”

“Not yet. We need to level up before we take him on.” Tomura’s shoulders are tense. “Hitting the camp, threatening their precious students – if the heroes can’t even protect their own kind, they can’t claim to be capable of protecting everyone else. Besides, that’s not the only reason we’re going there. You all are a good start, but we’ll need more allies if we want to win.”

“Why do you need more?” Mustard asks. “You’ve got us. We’re not good enough?”

Based on the belligerence, this is a sore spot. If Tomura can’t navigate it, you’ll step in – but somewhere beneath the hands, Tomura’s still the kid who knew how to make everybody feel included. “We can’t fight a war on just one front,” he says. “You and the others will win the strategic battle by destroying UA’s sense of superiority. And while you’re doing that, Compress and Toga will collect what we need to win the PR battle as well.”

“Indeed,” Compress agrees. “Are there other students you’d like me to capture, Shigaraki? Or are you interested only in the victor from the Sports Festival?”

The explosion kid. You remember him – the one who was so batshit berserk that he had to be muzzled and chained to a pole for the award ceremony. Tomura wants him for the League? “Use your discretion,” Tomura says. “He’s the priority. If you see others who are better suited to us than to the heroes, take them, too.”

“And I’ll get the blood,” Toga chimes in. Everyone turns to stare at her. “My quirk lets me turn into the people whose blood I drink! I can make myself look like a student, and I can say anything I want.”

Like a living deepfake. You knew Tomura was smart, but this is verging on diabolical. “What about the rest of us, then?” Muscular asks. There’s a sharp smile on his face, and just like Tomura, he’s tense. “Are we supposed to just stand around?”

“There will be pro heroes present,” Tomura says. “Mustard will incapacitate the students, but the pros will be more difficult to handle.”

“Difficult? For me?” Muscular scoffs and takes a step forward. “Just because an underground hero handed you your ass doesn’t mean I’ll have a problem.”

“If Eraserhead cancels your quirk, you’ll be in the same spot as me,” Tomura says shortly. He gets to his feet. Not good. “If you think I’m that easy to defeat, try your luck.”

It looks like Muscular wants to. Tomura’s hands are open at his sides, rising slightly, and just like you did in the convenience store last year, you speak up. “Both of your records speak for themselves,” you say, and Muscular turns to stare at you. “Tomura recognizes that the pros pose a threat to the success of the plan. And he recognizes that you’re well-equipped to handle them. That’s why you’re here.”

It’s quiet for a second. Muscular doesn’t step back into line, and neither does Tomura – but neither of them make a move, and when Tomura speaks again, Muscular doesn’t interrupt. “If you haven’t been given a more specific assignment, your job is to sow chaos,” he says. “Dabi, Spinner, Magne, Muscular, Moonfish – deal with the pros. If you have the opportunity to kill them, do it, as slowly or as quickly as you’d like. If not, keep them out of the way.”

“What about the students?”

Moonfish sounds like he’s speaking through a mouthful of razors. It makes your skin crawl, but Tomura doesn’t flinch. “The focus needs to be on the heroes and their failings, not on a bunch of dead kids. If that happens, that’s all anyone will talk about,” Tomura says. “Hurt them. Don’t kill them. That goes for all of them – except one.”

“Which one?”

“Midoriya Izuku.”

“No.” The green-skinned heteromorph speaks up for the first time. “Not him.”

Tomura turns towards him, incredulous, and the heteromorph keeps talking. “Stain spared his life. He recognized him as a true hero. I won’t subvert Stain’s will like that.”

A joke pops into your head – Stain’s not gonna fuck you – and you clench your jaw shut. “Stain’s will?” Tomura repeats. “Stain lost.”

“His ideas still live,” the heteromorph – Spinner, you think – says. “Are you following in Stain’s footsteps or not?”

You see Tomura’s shoulders tense again and realize that you’ve got approximately three seconds before he blows his top. “Stain and Tomura share a belief that hero society is rotten to the core,” you say. “The fact that the only examples of true heroes Stain could find are All Might and a fifteen-year-old illustrates the decay. Don’t you think?”

You’ve put Tomura and Stain on the same conceptual level, and you’ve put Spinner on the spot – and most importantly, you’ve contained Tomura for the time being. “I guess,” Spinner says after a second. “I still don’t think –”

“If you’re worried about following in Stain’s footsteps, follow them by killing false heroes,” Tomura interrupts. “There will be plenty to choose from at the training camp. Don’t concern yourself with Midoriya Izuku. Act as your ideals demand.”

Tomura glances around the room. “That goes for all of you. Use what methods you’d like. Act as you see fit, so long as those actions don’t imperil our common goal. Disrupt the camp, disable any pro heroes who get in your way, kill them if you want, and assist Toga and Compress in completing their objectives.”

It’s quiet. You can tell Tomura’s waiting for an argument, and when one doesn’t come right away, he picks one. “Does anyone have issues with their assigned role?”

“I have an issue,” the fire quirk-user says. Dabi, you think. The one Tomura said was an asshole, and when he points one finger at you, you decide you agree with Tomura’s assessment. “What’s your role? Who are you?”

“Yeah,” Muscular says. “What’s under that veil? And why do you talk so much?”

“She’s our medic,” Tomura says. “She’s trustworthy.”

“She’s hiding her face.”

“So am I,” Twice pipes up. “And Compress. Shigaraki, too. Besides, it’s good to have a medic! If the medic’s good.”

You owe Twice for having your back, even if he doesn’t know you. Dabi doesn’t look convinced. “What’s your name?” he repeats.

“You get her name when I get yours,” Tomura says. “My alliance with her existed before the League did. She’s trustworthy.”

Toga squints at you, then takes a few steps closer. “I like your costume,” she says. “You look like a bride.”

“I can’t see your face at all,” Magne says. “Hopefully it’s cuter than the veil is.”

“I hope so, too,” you say. Magne laughs.

Tomura doesn’t like that. You can tell. “Kurogiri, bring the maps,” he orders. A warp gate opens in the middle of the room, disgorging a map taped to a rolling whiteboard. “I don’t know your quirks as well as you do. We’ll devise this attack plan collectively.”

Tomura wasn’t in school long enough to learn what a pain in the ass group project are, but given that villains don’t like being bossed around, it’s not the worst strategy. You hang back, physically and verbally, steering clear of Dabi and Muscular and only stepping in when the temperature needs to be turned down. You’re the least powerful person in a room full of people who think nothing of throwing their weight around. In some ways, it’s just like being at home with your family.

Tomura asked you to watch, and you start piecing together an understanding of the group’s dynamic. The most stable individuals in the group are Kurogiri, Magne, and Compress, all by a long shot. The most easily dysregulated is Mustard, and while you think Dabi and Muscular can probably control themselves, you also think they’ll choose not to. You have a pretty good grasp on Twice from your previous meeting. Moonfish doesn’t say enough for you to be able to tell, but he also doesn’t start fights, and Toga’s a dark horse. So is Spinner.

Spinner’s hard for you to figure. He’s got no criminal record, but unlike Toga and Mustard, he’s old enough to have collected one. He’s probably the biggest Stain fan of the group, the only one who pushed back against Tomura on ideological grounds, but he’s also something of a team player. His role in the attack gets settled early, and he shifts to the outskirts of the group. After a few minutes psyching yourself up to do it, you slide down from the bar and join him.

He glances over at you, then double-takes. “You look like a ghost in that thing,” he says. “It works, though. I’d hide my face if my face mattered.”

“How do you mean?” you ask. “You’re joining the League of Villains. Your face is about to get pretty famous if you don’t cover it up.”

Spinner laughs, but there’s a rueful note to it. “I’m not exactly breaking hearts by turning to a life of crime. At least this way I’m doing something with my life.”

Weird and weirder. “What were you before this? If it’s okay for me to ask.”

“Only if it’s okay for me to ask how long you’ve known Shigaraki.”

You think about that. “Does ‘a long time’ count as an answer?”

“That depends. Is it months or years?” Spinner asks. You don’t know if you should answer that, and Spinner can tell. “I know I pissed him off earlier. You shut it down pretty fast. I figure either it’s your quirk or you just know him really well.”

“It’s not my quirk,” you say. You think back to the first time Tenko told you his new name. “Less than forever, more than a year.”

“I was a shut-in,” Spinner says, answering your question without responding to your answer to his. No wonder he’s got a record. It’s hard to get a record when you don’t leave your room. “That video of Stain’s is the first thing I ever saw that made sense. If you all have the same goal as Stain did, then I’m in the right spot.”

You nod. Someone is raising their voice in the group, and you key in – but it’s just one of the versions of Twice, getting excited about something. Spinner glances curiously at you. “You sure you don’t have an alias or something?”

You shake your head. You might be at a meeting of villains, wearing a disguise, listening to them plan to kidnap one high school student and traumatize the hell out of a few more, but picking out a name for yourself feels a little far. If Tomura thinks you need a name, he’ll probably give one to you.

The meeting breaks up two hours after midnight. You missed hearing the date the attack will take place, possibly on purpose, and when the group splits, leaving just you and Tomura and Kurogiri, you don’t ask what it was. Kurogiri pours drinks for you and Tomura. You sit down at the bar next to him, and he speaks without looking up from his glass. “What did you find out about Spinner?”

“He was a shut-in before. As long as you can tie your goals to Stain’s, he’ll follow along,” you say. Tomura nods. “How did the rest of it go?”

“I’m leaving some of the on-site planning to them. I’m not there to give orders, so they need to be able to adapt.” Tomura takes a sip of his drink. “Dabi’s a pain in the ass, like I thought, but I’m giving him temporary control of a Nomu to use during the fight. That should keep him quiet for now.”

He’s thought of everything. “You’re good at this stuff,” you say. “You barely needed me.”

Tomura looks up. “Yes, I do.”

It’s quiet for a little bit after that. You and Tomura drink, you staring down into your glass and Tomura staring at you, until you look up at the clock behind the bar and realize what time it is. “I have work in the morning. I have to go home.”

“Stay.” Tomura catches your sleeve with three fingers, but a small portal opens, depositing your bag a few feet away on the bar. “Kurogiri can take you to work from here.”

“I can’t show up in yesterday’s clothes. And I need to sleep. So do you.” You’re right, and Tomura knows it. He scowls anyway. He’s never happy when you leave, but right now he looks unhappier than usual. “What is it?’

“Once the attack happens, I can’t bring you back until things settle down.” Tomura’s looking unhappier by the second. “The brat can’t see you until I know he’s with us.”

“Oh,” you say. You wonder how long that will take. “That’s okay. I understand.”

“It’s not okay,” Tomura snaps. “It’s – take that thing off. I need to see you.”

You take it off quickly. “Kurogiri,” Tomura says. “Turn around.”

“I will return in five minutes.”

Kurogiri vanishes, and once he does, Tomura lowers the hand from his face, pries the other two from around his neck, and just like that, he’s Tenko again. “It’s not okay,” he repeats. “I need you with me. I feel different when you’re here.”

“Different than what?” you ask. He must think it’s a positive change, or he wouldn’t want you to stay. Tenko doesn’t answer. “Send Kurogiri to get me as soon as it’s safe, Ten. I’ll be waiting.”

You see his eyes light up ever so slightly, but it fades fast. “You’ll forget.”

Your heart aches, but this is something you can fix. “Let me show you something.”

The last forty-eight hours have been chaos, and you’ve spent most of it miserable, terrified, drunk, hungover, or making out with your childhood best friend on his couch. But somewhere in the middle of that, you managed to get into one of the two boxes you brought home from your parents’ purge and take something out. You couldn’t bring yourself to wear the locket, but you tucked it into your bag along with your disguise, and when you put your disguise away, you fish it out.

Tenko looks suspicious. “Who gave you that.”

“My parents, probably. That’s not the important part.” You close your eyes and struggle to come up with an explanation, one that doesn’t make you sound obsessed or insane or too invested in this, in him. “I found this in a box in my parents’ house. There was a lot of stuff in there about you and me.”

“Like what?”

“Pictures,” you say. “A birthday gift from you. The valentine you gave me. I put all that stuff in there when I was ten and taped it shut.”

“Why?”

“My parents were taking me to get my memory wiped the next day, so I really would forget.” You see Tenko’s eyes widen. “I hid that stuff from them, but I saved it for me. So even if the memory wipe worked, I could open it up and remember you again.”

You open the locket and hold it out for Tenko to inspect. You see his expression twist. “I never forgot about you,” you say. “When we saw each other again, that’s why I reacted that way. I always hoped you were alive. If I didn’t forget you in fifteen years, a few days or weeks or months isn’t going to make a difference.”

Tenko’s jaw is clenched. The tendons in his neck stand out, and his hands are curled into fists at his sides. You were trying to help, but it looks like you’ve made it worse. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have –”

Tenko seizes you and yanks you into his arms. “Shut up,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shoulder, or maybe your chest. “How am I supposed to let you leave now?”

“You have to. It’ll be okay,” you say. “I did promise not to go on any dates with heroes.”

It’s quiet for a second. Your arms are around Tenko, and you feel his shoulders shake. “That’s not funny.”

You know that particular note in his voice. It makes you feel better. “Don’t laugh, then.”

Tenko snorts, hugs you closer and tighter. Then he lets you go. “Next time you’ll stay,” he says.

“If I have the next day off, sure,” you say, and Tenko smiles slightly. “We never got to have sleepovers before.”

It’s true. You asked and so did he, but your parents said you were too young, even though neither of you would have been farther from home than right across the street. You see Kurogiri reappear out of the corner of your eye and know you’re out of time. “Be careful,” you say to Tenko. “Come find me as soon as it’s safe.”

“I will.” Tenko gets to his feet. “Turn around, Kurogiri.”

“Believe me, there’s nothing going on over there that I want to see.”

One of these days you’re going to ask Tenko why Kurogiri’s like that, why he seems like he’s two people in one. Not tonight. There isn’t time. You have time for one more kiss with Tenko, but that’s all – and the instant the two of you separate to take a breath, Kurogiri warps you away, dropping you back in your apartment. Your bag lands on the couch next to you. You still have the locket clenched in one hand. There are still a few drops of Tenko’s blood on your lips.

You lick them away, feeling twenty kinds of insane as you do it. Your mind is crowded with dozens of questions, thoughts, images, memories, all of them demanding to be addressed at once. You kick off your shoes, move your bag to the floor, and lie back on the couch. Your eyelids are heavy the instant you’re horizontal, and by the time it occurs to you that you should let go of the locket or at least put it somewhere safe, you’re fast asleep.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shimura tenko x reader #tenko shimura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #x reader #reader insert #please hold

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iamleesi · 15 hours

Text

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You finally find some answers

Warning: Mention of stalking, mention of attempted SA, obsessed behavior (none of it is towards reader), mention of weed and substances and I probably forgot something but this is pretty much it -> 18+ !!

Other: English isn’t my first language. Also I’m gonna add more Bucky x You in the next chapter, I promise.

-> Masterlist

-> Part six ; Part eight

-> Lovely, sweet father (07)

“Yes?”

As William Barlow opened the door, a pungent mix of weed and other substances greeted you and Dean but both of you maintained a composed manor. You had successfully - Sam did, to be specific - tracked down Adam’s brother, William, in hope to discover any leads regarding Adam’s disappearance.

“I’m agent Downey and this is agent Olsen, we’re from the FBI. Mind if we ask a few questions?” Dean said, flashing his new fake badge.

“Sure, man, come in.” William replied, stepping aside to allow you both inside his house. “I didn’t expect the FBI to care about my brother’s disappearance. Lately have gone missing a lot of people.” He said, leading the way to the living room where he casually took a sit on the couch. “Unless you’re here for that Cassandra too.”

Sharing a glance with Dean, you replied. “Both. We suspect the cases may be related.”

“What do y’all wanna know?” William asked, lighting a cigarette. Despite his brother’s situation, he seemed remarkably unfazed.

“Let’s start with Cassandra and Adam.” You began. “Why did they break up?”

William shrugged. “My brother mentioned she was becoming distant, probably because of her father. They started arguing daily.”

“Her father? What about him?” You kept asking, glancing over at Dean who was taking his time looking around, probably searching for something since it was Adam’s house too.

William pinched the bridge of his nose. “Her father was an asshole, man.” He scoffed. “God knows how many times Cassandra started to come here at night because that douche bag treated her like garbage. I don’t know much of it, me and her weren’t close, but I remember listening to a conversation she was having with my brother where she was quite hysterical.”

“Must run in the family.” Dean mumbled, but you sent him a deadly glare.

Ignoring Dean’s comment, you pressed on. “What were they saying?”

“She was going off about her father’s behavior, you know… a cheater stays a cheater?” William started to explain, gesturing with his hands. “She found some texts on her father’s phone with guess who? Her biological mother.”

You were surprised to hear that. “Her biological mother? What were the texts about?”

He leaned back, propping his feet on the coffee table. “Nothing too intimate, as far as I know, what really set her off wasn’t that he was talking with her, not really. It was that her biological mother was asking about her other daughter and not her.”

You frowned. “So… Mr Sawyer had another daughter while he was away all those years?”

“No.” William shook his head. “Cassandra’s biological mother did. She had a child with someone else, and apparently Mr Sawyer knew that all along. Cassandra always knew she wasn’t Mrs Miller’s biological daughter and had been wondering about her birth mother for as long as I can remember. I suppose finding out that the person she had been searching for didn’t care about her but was interested in this mysterious other daughter took a toll on her.”

“Is this Adam’s phone?” Dean interrupted, holding up the device.

“Yeah.” William confirmed.

“Can I take this with me? We want to take a look at it.” Dean requested.

“I already went through it and I didn’t find anything… but yes. You can have it.” William replied, offering half a smile.

“What can you tell us about Adam? Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to harm him?” You asked.

“Pretty much everyone in the State.” He scoffed. “Adam is always been a troublemaker. But I think…” He hesitated for a moment before deciding to speak his mind. “He had this friend, Malcom. They met at a bar and hit it off, until Malcom started to develop an obsession with Cassandra.”

“Malcom who?” Dean inquired.

“Malcom Donovan, I think.” William replied. “This guy turned out to be one of those idiots who can’t take no for an answer. He started stalking Cassandra everywhere, leaving notes on her car, letters on her doorstep, bombarding her with texts and calls. Adam stepped in when Malcom tried to assault Cassandra at a party once, so that same night he payed Malcom a visit and… it didn’t end well. He didn’t kill him, but he was close to.”

“Where’s Malcom now?” You asked.

“I haven’t seen him since. He was new in town, didn’t have any family or friends around - and it doesn’t surprise me. Adam was probably the only friend he had, but it didn’t last long for obvious reasons.” William explained, rising from the couch to point out a picture on the wall. “This is Malcom.” It depicted a group of about seventeen people with Malcom standing awkwardly in the corner.

Dean approached to snap a photo of the picture with his phone. “Thanks.” He said, still studying the image. “Do you know where he lives?”

“Yeah, I’ll write it down for you.” William nodded, reaching for a piece of paper and a pen.

“Also… that patient Cassandra was treating before she disappeared.” You turned around to look at William. “Did anyone had an idea of who he was?”

“The one barely alive? No.” He shook his head. “But Cassandra didn’t seem to give up. He wanted him to live, and she got mad at anyone who tried to snatch the guy from her. Is it true he had… you know… pointy teeth?”

“No.” Both you and Dean said at the same time. Nobody could know it, or it would have caused general panic.

“Alright. For a second I thought the Avengers had to step in, wouldn’t want another alien invasion or something.” William said half joking, giving the piece of paper with an address on it to you.

“Thank you.” You kindly said, as he escorted you both towards the door.

“Anytime.” He said. “Please find my brother.”

“We’ll do our best, William. Take care.” With that, you and Dean walked out. At least it didn’t go badly as you had expected, considering until now all you’ve had were dead ends.

* * * *

“I was thinking we could have burgers tonight.” Dean suggested, yawing as he scrolled through his phone. “And fries. And maybe even a milkshake or something.”

You and Dean had gotten home a half an hour ago, and Sam and Bucky weren’t home yet. The two went to investigate on Cassandra’s father, and it was taking longer that expected so hopefully they had found something.

“Again? We have those everyday, Dean.” You signed, half watching a crappy movie on tv. “We could have pizza.” You suggested.

“You always want pizza.” He pointed out, as if he was better than you.

“Can’t blame me.” You shrugged. “It’s great, especially the Italian one. Those people created the best thing that could ever exist.”

“Fair.” He nodded. “Knowing Sam and Bucky they’re probably going to want some veggies and shit, to stay healthy and bullshit like that. Can’t stand that.” He dramatically sighed, mocking the two of them. “We only live once, don’t we?”

“Normal people do.” You pointed out. “Didn’t you say both you and Sam got resurrected once?”

“Once, twice. Lost count.” He waved it off.

“So you can like… die whenever and then someone drags you back? Is there an afterlife?” You asked.

“Not really and most definitely to the last question.” He confirmed. “Also it helps having an angel that watches my back…. wherever that asshole may be.”

“An angel?!” You exclaimed. “Like… those dudes with white wings and the yellow thing above their head?”

He huffed. “Absolutely not. I swear sometimes they’re worse than demons. ‘I’m the angel of the Lord’, and then it’s the worst being I’ve ever met.” He scoffed. “Hey, talking about angels, have I ever told you about that time I made Castiel watch a por-”

“We have some informations about Michael Sawyer.” Sam interrupted your lazy conversation, storming inside followed by Bucky, clutching some files. He settled on the armchair he now claimed as his, while Bucky took a seat next to you - as per usual.

“And we have some informations about Adam. Wanna play rock, paper, scissors on who starts first?” Dean raised a brow, but Sam glared at him. “Sorry, go on.”

“After his comeback in 2013, he started working as a personal doctor at an elderly home until he got fired two weeks before Cassandra disappeared. We visited the elderly home in question and discovered that he, and I quote, insisted on caring for his patients alone, and more often than not, those patients died mysteriously. Those who didn’t, disappeared.” Sam explained.

“And the police did nothing?” Dean frowned.

“The police was barely involved.” Bucky chimed in. “He specifically looked for people whose family didn’t care about their well being, essentially. So when the patients disappeared, all they did was file a missing report and that’s it. Looks like Hydra’s profile to me.”

“They also gave us the names of the families of those people.” Sam said, pointing to the files he had previously placed on the coffee table. “We can go ask them some questions tomorrow.”

“What about Sawyer?” You asked. “Anything else? Because this is incredibly suspicious and it does align with what Hydra’s doing, but we don’t have anything concrete that says he’s personally linked to it. We need proofs.”

“You’re right.” He sighed. “All we found about him is a picture in his old office, at least. I can try to contact Fury again hoping he picks up his phone since he’s not answering any calls and see if he can find him.” Bucky said, leaning back on the couch.

Sam nodded at what he said, rummaging in his back to find the picture. “Here.” He said, passing it to you. “The guy in the back, with a pink shirt on.”

Your eyes landed to the man, and you froze on the spot. It was him, inevitably him, the one who not only had links to Hydra, but the one who started the experiments. The one who idealized the Wendigo Project.

“There’s no need to call Fury.” You said. “I know him.”

Bucky’s head snapped in your direction, as did Sam’s and Dean’s, expecting you to elaborate further.

You licked your lips before explaining yourself. “I’ve crossed paths with him many times at the facility, though I never knew his full name. People simply referred to him as Mike. He frequented Mrs White’s office often, discussing methods on how they could control the Wendigo - the only pureblood they had ever since before I was born. He convinced Mrs White to stop tensing on animals and start doings experiments on humans because he thought that would have been more effective. Initially she refused, fearing that SHIELD might find their location if they started to kidnap human beings but eventually he persuaded her. His experiments began a few years before my birth and persisted after. It was when Sawyer killed the creature that he proposed using me as their final attempt to create a complying Wendigo. These creatures are restless, they can be killed exclusively with fire, and they’re neearly as strong as a Super Soldier… essentially the perfect weapon.”

“In the end, his plan succeeded. With my blood he continued his experiments, and then we discovered my ability do control them… you know the rest. I became a tool to lead them into committing atrocities, I even did so myself sometimes.”

You managed to say that without your voice faltering a bit, perhaps it was because you’d sooner die rather than expose your vulnerabilities.

“Who’s Mrs White?” Bucky asked.

“The woman at the head of the facility.” You explained.

“Do you have any news from her or from Sawyer since you were rescued?” Sam inquired, still processing everything you just said.

“No.” You shook your head. “But Mrs White’s name wasn’t on the list of the people SHIELD killed or rescued, and I don’t remember a Sawyer either so presumably they’re still alive. I mean, we know Sawyer was alive for sure in the last ten years.” You sighed.

“And that he probably kept making these experiments trying to create another you in these ten years.” Dean said, scratching his forehead. “One being his daughter.”

“So now we believe for sure the thing locked in Mrs Miller’s house is Cassandra?” Sam raised his eyebrows, looking at each person in the room.

“Maybe she discovered what her lovely, sweet father was up to and he took matters into his own hands.” Bucky suggested with a shrug. “Wouldn’t be too crazy considering what we’re dealing with.”

“And perhaps Mrs Miller found out too, leading to her current deteriorated mental state.” Dean added. “But what about Adam? How many are the chances that the guy just disappeared and it has nothing do to with this case?”

“Maybe he knew something. Since he was Cassandra’s only reliable confidant, she might have shared some details and Sawyer silenced him too.” You proposed, putting on the table the possibility.

“Or maybe he became food.” Bucky interjected, causing all heads to turn in his direction. “What? We saw Mrs Miller cutting someone into pieces. It was a male, could be him.”

“I think we have to go back there when she’s isn’t in the house and take a proper look.” Sam asserted, and his brother threw him a pillow.

“Go yourself, I have no intention of seeing that place again. You with me?” Dean looked in your direction.

“Absolutely. Fuck that.”

“This is not very professional of either of you.” Bucky remarked.

“Fuck professionalism, we’re doing things my way.” Dean declared, rising from his seat to retrieve his trusty green bag. “We still know nothing about the guy Cassandra found. You and me, we are going on a little illegal adventure.”

“No, Dean, Fury said not to do illeg-” Sam was cut off by you.

“I’m in, what are we talking about?” Your curiosity sparked, as you noticed Dean holding a shovel.

“How are your digging skills? Because I’m taking you to the cemetery.” He winked.

23 notes · View notes