#bamf!reader

"Geto." Your voice is clipped, eyes narrowing the slightest bit as you take in his appearance. The same flowing robes as always, silky black hair half pinned up. He looks at ease as he tilts his head, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly.

"Now, is that any way to greet a friend?" he asks, his wooden sandals echoing off the floor as he crosses the courtyard to reach you.

You scoff, crossing your arms beneath your chest. "I wouldn't exactly consider you a friend, but to each their own, I guess." You can't help but roll your eyes at his audacity.

Geto chuckles, looking amused by your attitude. "Mhm," he says, nodding along. "You know, I am rather curious about something."

"And I'm sure you're going to tell me whether I want you to or not," you deadpan, your nose wrinkling in annoyance.

"But of course," he grins, coming to stop just a foot or two in front of you. "It seems we have a mutual… acquaintance." He smiles. "Is there a particular reason you haven't told Satoru about your real job?"

You aren't shocked that he asks that—he does seem like the type to shove his nose in business that doesn't concern him. Still, his questions needle away at you, making you bristle with the urge to defend yourself. "Why would I involve a civilian in shit like this? I'm not you, who uses innocent humans for their own gain. Satoru is sweet, he's soft. I can't imagine dragging him into…" you vaguely gesture around you, "all of this."

Geto laughs. It's sharp and full, and he nearly doubles over after listening to you. He takes a moment to settle down, catching his breath, a genuine smile on his face. "God, this really is adorable. Hm, so you're protecting your preciouscivilian boyfriend then, that's it?"

You feel the sudden urge to choke the bastard. He's so infuriating it drives you nuts. "Yes, what's so funny about that? God, how does a scumbag like you even know him, huh?"

"Ah, Satoru…" Suguru sighs, his smile becoming more subdued as he thinks about the white-haired man. "Let's just say… we have a long history. We used to be best friends, though that ended shortly after high school."

You furrow your eyebrows. "So what? Did you have some big fight or something?"

"Yes, you could say that." Geto nods. He reaches a hand up and cards it through his hair. "Satoru and I used to be inseparable. And honestly, for the first while, being without him was almost like torture."

"Like torture…" You give him a weird look. "Did you guys like date or something? He was super cagey when I asked him about things."

"God no, I could never handle dating Satoru. It's rather impressive you can," Geto says, shaking his head. "Well, I better get going. I got everything I needed from here. You're welcome, by the way," he takes a step backward, "I cleared the place up before you even arrived, Miss Special Grade."

"Am I supposed to thank you?"

Geto grins. "I wouldn't dream of it. Have a good day, and send Satoru my regards." Then he turns around and vanishes around the corner of a particularly rotted building, leaving you with more questions than you had to begin with.

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Today you and Satoru were going to visit an animal sanctuary before the weather started taking a turn. The summer was coming to a close, and fall was starting to peak through with its chilly winds and colorful leaves.

You're in a cozy sweater and form-fitting jeans, and yet for some reason Satoru kept telling you how beautiful you looked today. Every comment he made, you just replied telling him how ridiculous he was. Still, pink would tinge your cheeks and your fingers would tighten around his the slightest bit.

"So," he glances down at you, those round sunglasses he loves so much sliding down the bridge of his nose, "will cuddling capybaras and little baby lemurs soften you up?"

"What do you mean soften me up?" you ask, your eyebrows drawing together, not even realizing your own facial expressions.

Satoru laughs, using his free hand to tap right where the wrinkle forms between your brows. "I'm talking about this. Don't get me wrong, I know you're soft for me," he winks, "but you're always so grumpy, baby."

"I am not," you protest, but it comes out grumbly and grumpy exactly as he'd said.

"Uh-huh, sure you're not." He's grinning, that stupidly dazzling smile of his that makes your knees weak.

You huff and tug his hand, dragging him forward as you walk further into the animal sanctuary to purchase your tickets. "Whatever, let's just go so we can get in before they get too busy."

Purchasing your tickets is quick and easy. Satoru tucks them in the back pocket of his jeans, then intertwines your hands once more. His smile never drops for a second as he eagerly points out different exhibits to you, explaining with great passion his favorite animals and why he loved them. It was clear your boyfriend had been here many times.

You'd been there for probably thirty minutes, viewing different animals like white tigers, alpacas, and even a pair of otters, before you reached the petting zoo. This is the part you'd been excited for. When Satoru brought up this date idea, you tried to act like you weren't that interested, but how could you not be beyond excited about petting an actual capybara?

Satoru talks to the attendant of the area for a moment, before the gate opens and he leads you inside. You blink, seeing a group of capybaras clustered in the corner twenty feet from you, and you feel a warm fuzzy feeling settle in your stomach. It's not a conscious decision when you drop Satoru's hand and slowly make your way towards the lazy creatures.

Once you're just a few feet away, you crouch down and gently extend a hand to coax them to you. You didn't want to risk scaring them off. They're hardly paying attention to you, which makes you pout, so you start clucking your tongue like you were calling a cat.

Satoru stands beside you, watching you with a fond look, laughing quietly at your actions.

It takes a moment of your noises, but one of the capybaras raises its head from its sprawled position. Its nose twitches, and then it rolls to its feet and wanders over to you. Your face lights up the moment it butts its snout into your waiting palm, and you can't contain the unbridled joy you feel in the moment. You reach your other hand out and gently pet its back, noting that it seems to like that, practically leaning into the movement.

You drop down to the floor fully, and the capybara seizes the opportunity to close the distance and flop against your crossed legs, nudging you with its head. "Oh my god," you whisper in disbelief.

Satoru smiles softly, his eyes full of love and adoration as he watches the scene before him. "He really seems to like you, huh?"

His comment makes you giggle, and you nod. Then you glance up at him and huff, "What are you doing just standing there? Get photos! This is a historical moment, 'Toru."

He laughs. "Sorry, baby," he says as he reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out his phone. "I'll get your best angles, promise."

As he starts snapping photos, the other two capybaras seem to notice their friend is gone and look around before spotting you. Their noses wiggle and twitch, and then to your utter delight they join your little buddy. A capybara cuddle pile just for you.

You gently stroke their fur, feeling lighter and happier than you've ever felt before. Satoru crouches down beside you, reaching over your shoulder to lightly stroke the original capybara who'd come over to you. The feeling is just too much, and you glance up at him, your smile wobbling a little. "Thank you," you murmur. "I think this is the most incredible gift anyone's ever given me."

Satoru hums. "The girl who received a multi-million dollar car for a graduation gift is saying some capybara cuddles are the best gift ever?"

You roll your eyes. "No car could ever measure up to this. So seriously, thank you." You let yourself lean back into his chest. "I love you," you find yourself saying, "you know that, right?"

The warmth of him bleeds into you, and you feel his chin drop onto your shoulder. "I love you too, pretty girl. I'm glad I could bring you this much joy." He presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck before pulling back.

Your stomach flutters a bit at the sensation, and you let your eyes slide shut. This moment right here was worth more than money could ever buy. So you let yourself sink further into it and fully enjoy everything surrounding you.

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It's a Tuesday afternoon when you get a call from Satoru. He tells you that he has a huge favor to ask of you and that it's completely okay if you say no. So naturally you're curious as to what this big favor is, because knowing Satoru it could be anything from needing help getting a stain out of his shirt (which happens often) or him asking you for a kidney.

Thankfully it's not that crazy. He tells you the kids did really well on a recent group project, so as a reward he promised he'd take them to dinner. However, they're demanding that you come with them because they hear about you all the time, they've met you in passing, but they've never actually spent any time with you.

From what you've learned during your relationship with Satoru, he is very close with all his students. This school he teaches at seems very exclusive, so he only has a handful of them. Though he tends to talk about the three you’ve met before more than others Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara.

So, you agree, and that's how hours later you find yourself at an izakaya tucked into a corner table with Satoru on your left and the kids directly in front of you.

It's a bit startling, actually sitting here with them, because they're all radiating intense cursed energy. It's even more odd that all three of them have it, and you still can't quite get past how… wrong Yuji's feels. But it's hard to believe he's malicious, considering he's been nothing but the sweetest dork every time you've met him.

You find yourself wondering, if these kids all have cursed energy, does that mean there are more sorcerers at this school? Which then makes you wonder—oh god, what if Satoru somehow gets caught up in some sort of skirmish? You can't even imagine. Though you really hope these kids would have the sense to leave their sensei out of whatever… they deal with.

"You know, I don't understand what you see in him," Nobara says, looking directly at you as she plucks a dumpling off her plate. "Isn't he super clingy and annoying?"

The question takes you by surprise, but it makes you snort. "I mean, yeah," you easily agree, which causes your boyfriend to make a noise of offense. "But he's also the best boyfriend I've ever had. He's sweet and thoughtful." You turn and pat his cheek lightly. "Can't imagine my life without him now."

He melts into your touch, and the kids all make varying faces of disgust. Megumi actually gags, and you can't help but be amused by them.

"See? I told you guys she loves me," Satoru snarks, giving the kids a smug grin as he nuzzles into your side. "She's my giiiiirlfriend. Even if none of you actually believed me!"

"How could we? The first time we met her she looked two seconds away from murdering you," Megumi deadpans.

The rest of the evening passes smoothly, and before you know it, the kids are packing up obscene amounts of leftovers and bidding you goodbye, heading down the street towards the train station.

You smile softly, watching them go. "They're good kids," you say to Satoru, who's standing next to you, arm snugly around your waist.

His voice is softer than you've heard it. "Yeah, they really are."

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A few days after dinner with Satoru's students, you work up the courage to text him and ask about visiting him at work. It's been on your mind constantly, to try and figure out what exactly is going on there, so that you can make sure he isn't in any sort of danger. Maybe you'd be able to scout it out and see if any teachers or other students were also sorcerers. Then if you could make sure they kept Satoru out of whatever it is they do… that'd ease your nerves.

Except the moment you make the suggestion? He shuts you down instantly.

YOU 

Hey babe, stopping by that bakery you like. I was thinking I could grab you and the kids some treats and drop them off at the school for you!

SATORU 🙄🤍 

That's so sweet 🥺 

Buuut I'm going to be super busy in meetings so today isn't a good day.

There it was again, 'meetings.' He sure does have a lot of those, it seems. But nonetheless, you're persistent.

YOU

Well maybe I could just bring them to the kids? 

They have that pumpkin spice pound cake you've been telling me about!

SATORU 🙄🤍 

The kids are super busy on a new project ☹️ 

Maybe another day, pretty

Uh huh. Sure. The way he's so quick to shut you down doesn't sit right with you. And you cannot help this gut feeling that something is just off. Like you're missing something huge.

Oh god, what if he doesn't even work at a real school? What if it's just some sort of front for a secret military operation? Or worse, a mafia? That would explain the kids being sorcerers, but if that's the case… does Satoru know they're sorcerers?

Now you have more questions and concerns than you did to start with. Just what the hell is actually going on with your boyfriend? It isn't like you can just demand answers though, because then you'd be a giant hypocrite. You refuse to divulge any details regarding your actual work to him. So… you can't be upset with him for potentially doing the same.

So you decide to let it go for now. You'd find out eventually…there's no way he could hide something like that forever.

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Another day, another round of exorcising curses, and another painful encounter with your personal stalker Suguru fucking Geto. You swear he's doing this on purpose—there's no other explanation for him constantly showing up uninvited.

"What do you want, Geto?" you ask, somewhat resigned as you spread your fingers and disintegrate a cluster of Grade 2 curses.

He smiles. "Just checking in on one of my favorite special grade sorcerers," he says, coming to stand beside you. He tilts his head, watching with fascination as the curses fade away to nothing before his eyes. "Your power really is something, hm?"

"I suppose it is," you agree, not bothering to look at him as you detect another small group of curses, even weaker than the last. You flick your wrist and they blink out of existence.

Geto hums, like he's amused by something. "You know," he begins, "it's quite rare for a sorcerer to be able to hide their cursed energy."

You give him a blank look. "Yeah, and? Are you insinuating that I hide mine?" you ask, though it's rhetorical. "I don't purposely hide my energy, it's just naturally… spread out. You have to really look for it. But if I use enough power, there's no hiding it."

"I wasn't insinuating anything, but that is very interesting." A small goldfish-shaped swarm of curses swirls at your feet, and you go to deal with them, but Geto is faster. His palm flattens, the curses begin to clump together until they've formed a little ball, he tosses it in the air and eats it.

You cringe, looking away as he swallows. "If you weren't talking about me, then what were you talking about?"

"Nothing that you need to worry your pretty little head about," he murmurs, stretching his arms up over his head and yawning, as if he's perfectly at ease here.

For a moment you debate in your head whether or not you should ask him. He might not have any clue, but he also might know more than you… so you bite your cheek and turn to look at him. "Do you know anything about the school Satoru works at?"

Geto's eyes light up with interest. "Of course. It's the high school we attended together."

High school they attended together… so Satoru went to the same school as a special grade sorcerer. It's not entirely unheard of, civilians and sorcerers attending the same schools—it's just that the civilians typically don't know they're coexisting with beings who could slaughter them without a second thought.

"Is there any reason he wouldn't want me to visit him there?" you press, your need to know outweighing the knowledge that Geto could easily feed you false information if he truly wanted.

"I can think of a few, yes."

That wasn't the answer you wanted. "Okay… like what?"

"I think that's a conversation for you and Satoru, no?"

You scowl. "If Satoru was going to tell me, why the hell would I bother asking you? Just fucking tell me, I'm sick of your bullshit half answers."

Geto laughs, and you hate that it sounds so pretty coming from such an awful man. "Satoru and I may have our differences, but I am afraid my loyalty does still lie with him. So I can't give you the answers you want."

That pisses you off, because why bother giving you any sort of answers at all then? Probably for his own twisted amusement. "Then get out of my sight," you mutter, tearing your eyes away from his.

"Your wish is my command," he mocks, bowing dramatically, and then with a flutter of his robes he's gone.

Intrusive thoughts flood your mind and you can't manage to focus on anything else. So you give up working on the site you're at, and decide maybe you ought to go pamper yourself instead. Take your mind off things—your nails were due for a fill anyways… so you swipe on your phone, press a few buttons, and book an appointment.

Screw Geto and his stupid non-answers.

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You had been relaxing at your apartment catching up on one of your shows and eating ice cream from the carton when you felt an intense spike of cursed energy. It was across the city somewhere, but the fact that you felt it from here spelled trouble. So despite wanting nothing more than to stay here in your pajamas, you force yourself to get up and change into appropriate attire.

It doesn't take you long at all to make your way to the site of the energy signature. It's well past midnight, so the streets were quiet and you were able to run at your full speed without concern of someone seeing you.

The place you end up is an empty overpass right beside a small river. You slowly creep up the on-ramp, and you cringe as you catch sight of the curse. It's grotesque, but it's far more humanoid than any you've ever encountered. The thing has far too many eyes covering its exposed skin to pass as one though.

You notice how heavily muscled it is, and you already know it's going to hit you hard as fuck. Which… honestly? Sounds kind of nice. You haven't been challenged since you set foot in Japan, and after the last few weeks? You've got plenty of steam to blow off.

"Hey, ugly," you call as you step forward, your figure bathed in light from the street lamps towering overhead. You smirk. "What's a girl like you doing out here, huh?"

The curse snarls, "Aren't you just rude?"

You blink. Did it just speak?

"Well considering you interrupted my night of rest, I think I'm well within my rights to be rude," you retort, though it feels a bit odd to argue with a curse, a powerful one but still.

It makes a chuffing noise, almost a laugh. "And what do you plan to do, human? You have no energy whatsoever. I'll kill you easily."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?" you ask, and you step forward, your hand begins to swirl with energy as you launch forward, winding your arm back—and the moment you're directly in front of the curse, you twist your hips and slam your fist into its mottled fleshy face.

A shockwave rings out, sending dust, rocks, and leaves scattering. The curse shrieks, slamming backwards into the overpass wall, making a hefty dent. You stand where you are, smirking, dusting off your hand. "Still think you'll kill me easily?"

The curse pushes itself back to its feet, blood dripping from its broken nose. "Yes, you're all the same, such big egos, but you're all still soft." It kicks off the wall and surges towards you, swiping its hand, and you wince the moment you feel several cuts split open across your skin.

You glance down and see gashes lining your exposed arms, and even one across your stomach. The pain sends a surge of adrenaline through you, and your lips quirk up. "Hah," your pupils are blown wide as you lick your lips, "that actually hurt a bit."

The cuts begin to knit back together, muscle and skin rapidly growing back and repairing itself. Then they're gone as if you'd never even been hurt in the first place.

There's a tense, quiet moment where neither you nor the curse move—and then, you launch at each other at once. You meet in the center of the overpass, colliding in a display of raw power and aggression. You feel a thrill run through you as you trade blows with the creature, and sure you know you should end this now but, god does it feel amazing to let this out.

Until you feel the sharp crack and that god awful pain bloom across the tips of your fingers—you glance down, and see your pretty baby blue acrylics on your left hand are broken. One is dangling on by a thread, two are broken at jagged angles, another is completely ripped off revealing your raw skin and droplets of blood, and the last one is somehow still intact.

You feel white-hot rage course through you. "Are you fucking kidding me?" you hiss, halting your movements as you inspect your nails further. The curse tries to hit you again, but all it meets is an invisible wall—you're livid, and your cursed energy is responding in kind, leaking out like an aura.

"You know what? Fuck this." Your eyes are sharp, and your lips quirk down, you spread your palm wide. "Thanks for making my week worse." You don't bother dampening the blow, letting the full force of your power slam into the special grade curse. You watch as the usually slow process of disintegration takes place instantly. One second the curse is there, thrashing angry and bloody, and then the next it's gone.

You're trying to control your breathing, not from overexertion, but rage. And then you hear a voice that has absolutely no business being here this late at night.

"Oh my god! Is that—?!" Yuji, his bright loud voice cutting through the silent air like a knife.

"It is, oh my god. It's Gojo-sensei's girlfriend," there's Nobara's voice, normally calm, instead it's high-pitched in utter disbelief.

And because the world must hate you, there's the third one. "Holy shit." Simple, to the point. Just as Megumi always is.

Slowly you turn around, your eyes catching on the trio of teenagers standing behind you, watching you in pure disbelief. But what you don't expect is to lock gazes over their heads, with a set of very familiar blue eyes.

Your stomach drops to the floor.

Shit.

trin talks: hi !!! been forever I've had this done for awhile,,, here it finally is !!!! :-) feel free to request to be tagged !!

tags - @silibiliballs @lunaonyt @bakubae000 @warriorofenlightenment

divider creds !! @/saradika-graphics @/v6que & @/uzmacchiato

As a paper-pusher at the FBI, clearance wasn’t exactly something you were ever familiar with. Plug in the USB, scan the document, unplug the USB, deliver to the person with clearance. Don't look too closely, don't ask questions. On this specific hazy mid May evening, the specific person with clearance and a need for that USB just so happened to have the kind of brain frequency, as you’d come to call it, that your gift could tune into. You don’t know why or how you were able to get into people’s heads, whether cosmic force, mysterious birth or some other meager shape of hapless circumstance, but you did know some people just seemed to have thoughts at the right frequency for you to tap into at will. More awkward circumstances led you to the discovery that if you tried hard enough, they could hear you right back, and once you’d tapped into someone’s frequency, you could tap into it from anywhere. A gift of that magnitude was one you figured out pretty quickly was best kept to yourself; the last thing you wanted was to become Fisk’s newest toy. You’d only ever intruded quietly, to learn how first dates really felt about you, or if your neighbor was lying to you about where your missing packages went. Nothing flashy, and certainly nothing heroic. That was, until you tuned in to find out exactly what kind of plans the FBI had for current fugitive and ex-agent Benjamin “Bullseye” Pointdexter.

So here you found yourself, sitting at your poor excuse of a desk, a plan slowly bubbling to the surface. The rubbery, chewable eraser from a pencil found its way to your mouth as you idly awaited your response. Your heartbeat pounded a little louder, the risks you were about to take were racing through your mind, but just underneath that was an excitement about who this would make you. Vigilantes weren’t an object of jealousy for you, necessarily, but sometimes images of a different life did dance deliciously in your daydreams. Maybe you’d even have a name that sounded cool, something like Radio-Girl, or like DJ, or— Echo. Now that’d be a suitable name, you thought.

“—Uh… Huh?” Dex’s groggy response snapped you out of your wandering, your eyebrow arching appreciatively. Receptive. That’s a good sign. The familiar feeling of metallic clanging suddenly resonated back into your jaw, apparently you’d broadcasted that thought directly to him. You couldn’t just apologize, you’d seen glimpses of his file, heard the whispers and felt their jolts of fear when he’d walked by, knew what they said about him at his best, and who he was at his worst. You needed him to think you were in control for him to believe you, for you to get the information you needed to him, for you to help him. Taking a shaky breath, telling yourself to focus up, you continued.

“Don't you need help, Dex?” The question was more of a taunt, half a rude attempt at regaining control and half investigating what his own understanding of his position could be. Maybe he didn't want some omniscient voice telling him his reality, maybe he didn't want an intruder, benevolent or not in his brain. You respected him as an agent, so you figured you'd respect his choice... mostly. This time, confusion sounded back to you, which always felt a little like dizziness and a soft chorus of questioning memories bubbling around you like balloons.

“What is— Who— What?…” You could feel the bubbles clear as he finally reached a state of consciousness you could work with. There we go. Time to push.

“Dexxie—“ You sang into his mind again, and ok, maybe that was a little much. “Aren’t you tired of running? Are you feeling… directionless?” That truth singed the corners of your ears like truth always did, and you felt the resonance deep in his core, his mental guards loosening ever so slightly. Bingo. Those guards tightened right back up, though, not a moment later.

“This some new toy S.H.I.E.L.D. is playing with now, huh? Not even my thoughts to myself, anymore? Great.” His sardonic quip reminded you of the first time you’d dialed into his mind in that office hallway, just a year ago...

You were standing by the water fountain across from the shrink’s office when he’d burst through the door, wind cutting through the air almost as sharp as his anger. A purple-ish bruise still blooming over the thin line of his scowl and one larger cut shorn over his hairline caught your attention as he passed by you. He’d met your eyes, if only for a moment, and as the moment passed a small smirk betrayed his thoughts, which quickly invaded yours. “Gullible bastard” The quip had rung like a bell in your ears. You’d blushed, feeling as though it was a private joke shared between the two of you. A half chuckle escaped your lips, and when you’d looked up you found him glancing back toward you, confused, if only for a moment. In those days you didn’t have as tight a grip on your gift as you would’ve liked. The shame at being caught had stirred something in you, and you’d spend the next few weeks thinking about how his eyes met yours, and that second look back before he vanished around the corner.

“If only. They’d never be so lucky.” You scoffed, only letting the memory flick across the back of your eyes, hoping he could taste your honesty through the connection. Honesty tasted like honey and good memories.

——————

Dex blinked slow, tilting his head back to rest on the motel headboard and taking a deep breath. His eyes scanned the small room, still hoping that maybe a person, a real live person would slink out from the shadows, maybe even jump out from behind the ratty curtains revealing themselves. But nobody did. The sweat-drenched bed sheets were rough against his hips as he sat up in bed, thankful in an odd way that something had stirred him from his nightmares. What a strange sensation to wake up to, though, a foreign voice whose words rang through the bones in his face like tuning forks. Certain words came with strange tastes and some words resonated through different bones. Not unpleasantly, though, and he couldn’t help but admit to himself that a new voice, maybe real, maybe not, was a nice change in pace from his normal hallucinations and night terrors. A hand raked through his cropped hair, arching an eyebrow as his bottom lip slid through his teeth. Lucky. What uninformed person would ever link him and that word together, well, he’d sure like to know.

“Maybe one day you could… For now I’d get the hell out of that Super 8 you’re holed up in.” Came your reply, as if reading his thoughts. He chuckled not only at your response but his summation as well, figuring you were in fact reading his thoughts, at least as best he could explain it. A hand came up to scrub his face, grounding himself into reality but also weighing if he’d really choose to believe a voice in the sky— no, this strange voice in his head.

——————

You felt his apprehension turn into resignation as he realized it was probably better to listen to the voice and ask where it came from later. The eraser in your mouth had been all but sheared clean off from its metal cage as you waited to feel any sign that he was listening to your advice. In less than an hour a squad of agents would be bursting through his door to apprehend him, and you knew all too well what it was like to get so close to being free of your cage only to be dragged back down to the depths of hell. You closed your eyes, not wanting to watch the clock tick closer to his doom, searching for any sign that he was moving when it finally rang through your cheek bones, a little muffled but clear enough:

“Oh really? Then what about this face that you stole? So weak and pitiful, that's all I can say. Even just… looking at you is pathetic. Disrespecting the All-Creator like this, we did try to teach you some manners. It just wasn’t enough.”

A blue haired Cavalry Captain speaks, retaining his charm even though he speaks in such a chilly tone, that it makes you tremble. When he leans in, observing you up close, you feel the air get cold and your tears stop. Soon they start falling at your feet, frozen crystals of fear.

I can’t help it. I was born with this face, it is mine. Not Theirs. Mine. And yet all your beloved characters that you had got to know stared coldly at your crumpled and tired form while some looked on with pity.

Klee was confused. Albedo hadn’t yet arrived but he was trying to push through the crowd to be able to save you from this horrific fate you were about to meet, from the atrocious act of evil that they had all been involved in. Klee tries to run to you, and you catch the young girl’s gaze. Jean pulls her back firmly, not allowing her to be within even five metres of you. They labelled you a thief, an imposter. A sinner, the lowest of the low. Oh, how can they possibly be this ignorant? How far does all of the peoples of Tevyat stupidity stretch? Albedo wonders, an unknown emotion starting to rise. He would document this if he was not dealing with such a critical moment in this time and place.

The fire is lit by Diluc’s hands. He scowls as he approaches you, pleas and whimpers falling on deaf ears as he turns away to watch you burn with the others. Too late. The blond alchemist was too late.

As soon as the flames fly on your flesh, you scream. You start coughing rapidly, smoke invading your lungs. You couldn’t see—you could barely breathe. The pain was never ending, letting more screams slip from your lips. A cry that pierces the heavens as lightning flashes and rain starts to fall. The cooling drops dampen the fire, soothing your skin and some of the minor burns on your hands and feet. It was as if Teyvat itself was crying out for its creator, trying to save you.

Someone unlocks your shackles, soft hands and soothing whispers as they take you into their arms and shouts erupt from the crowd below you. Your eyes are open yet your mind is elsewhere. The only way you’re barely aware that several others are looking over you is the shadows that they cast. You don’t notice how the Archons are guilt stricken, and Venti is weeping at your side. Meanwhile, Ei and Zhongli feel sick to their stomach for the sinister crime they had encouraged and participated in. As they looked into your eyes, now shimmering with the colours of all the nations in Teyvat, they saw the truth. They felt your warmth, recognized the way the land itself loved you, as they were meant to. You were the All-Creator, Their beloved All-Creator and they had done what they deemed the ultimate sin.

You were in shock and soon enough, you fell into unconsciousness in the lap of the alchemist who had been too late, too late to explain that they were all wrong.

A few days of intensive care and rest allowed you to recover. Quicker than most, Barbara would say. But then again, you were the All-Creator.

Albedo, Klee and Barbara. Those were the only people you trusted after the… incident. Even comfortable in their presence, you were still mildly hesitant with Barbara at times and Alice’s daughter did tend to surprise you on occasion. In those few days of rest and recovery, the three of them visited you. Often, while Barbara tended to your injuries, Klee would entertain you with some story about her treasure or how she recently went fish blasting. You would smile and laugh lightly, before Klee would leave and then promptly fall into a deep sleep in Albedo’s lap.

All the acolytes were jealous of the alchemist. They too wanted to be the ones who held you in their lap as they gained your affections. But their crimes were too great. However, you certainly have a soft spot for children. You adored Klee and Qiqi and Diona. Xiangling often made you signature and special dishes to try, eagerly awaiting your commentary. They were simply sweethearts, young children who didn’t know whether to fear you or not. You would never think about putting any kind of blame on their shoulders.

When you finally did finish recovering, no one dared to look at you. You took your seat in a throne made by the Geo Archon himself, shoes clicking across the floor of the Church of Favonius. Looking at the sea of acolytes bowing down in front of you, a scowl makes its way onto your features. You scoff at the scene. “Get up. All of you.” You say with scorn bleeding into your voice. It makes even the Harbingers and Archons themselves shiver and flinch.

They are unable to hold your hard gaze, but they dare not fidget or move from their place. You desperately wish for Albedo’s presence at this exact moment. Instead, you had made sure he took all the children out, as to not allow them to be a witness to your fury.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, a question that is simply so innocent, but as your mouth speaks the words with such a cold and silent anger, the ground shakes.

It was a few moments before the eerie, ominous silence that fell on the people of Teyvat was broken.

“We are awaiting punishment… your grace. We know what we have done.” Morax speaks, the oldest of the current Archons.

You scoff. “Punishment? You think that low of me?”

It’s quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. The Archon shifted, guilt clear on his face as he started to speak again, before getting interrupted by you. A harsh laugh escapes from your throat. It's insincere and sharp. You walk over to him, despite being so small in stature yourself, as the Geo Archon bows his head, you tower over him and it is clear who holds authority here.

You do.

Grabbing hold of his cheek roughly, you make him face you, your eyes burning with a silent rage. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, Morax.”

A toothy smile greets your face, an expression similar to a shark seeing their prey. “You thought I would be cruel? In the way you were to me? You’re pathetic.” The smile drops off your features in an instant. Letting go of him, you shake your head and sigh, walking back to your throne.

“I’m tired. Leave.” You spat out, surveying the room as your so-called acolytes fled the room like terrified cattle. Catching sight of a particular ginger, you ponder your next actions. You could ask any other harbinger, but Signora was dead and you were once more particularly fond of said ginger. Now you simply said his name with distaste.

Childe’s head perks up, hearing you call his name. He tries to push through the crowd to get closer to you but it's certainly a struggle, even for him.

“Childe. Don’t make me repeat myself again.” You huff loudly, as the church empties.

The 11th Harbinger bows down in front of you, awaiting your words. Maybe he could redeem himself, maybe he could rid himself of the sins he’s committed against you. He’d do anything for that chance. You smirk at the scene of him confessing his absolute undying loyalty to you and only you. Good.. maybe having a little toy would be useful.

“I have a task for you… Childe.” you adopted a sugar sweet tone, the false affection in your voice dripping like honey. The harbinger craved it. He looks at you, nodding once to show he understood. “I heard that Scaramouche has gone missing, is that right?”

When you asked so sweetly like that, he had to answer. He nods again, opening his mouth to speak. “Yes, your grace. That’s true, and he ran away with the electro gnosis as well.”

You hum absentmindedly, seemingly more interested in the way a rock crumbled under your grip than his answer. “I see…”

You wanted to laugh. He acted like a weak puppy down at your feet. Finally placing your focus back on him, you decide to send him off.

“Childe… I want you to find Scaramouche. Bring him back here, to meet me. Alive, of course but I doubt you’d even be able to kill him in the first place.”

“Oh, nothing much. I was just coming here for some coffee before class and I saw you sitting here… Alone… Unless you’re waiting for someone?” Bucky cleared his throat and looked out the cafe window, no one knew about his ‘arrangement’; well no one besides Steve. He knew something was happening when Bucky was able to buy new textbooks, there was no way he could’ve afforded them by just donating plasma every other week.

“Uh…” His phone buzzed again as Claire fluttered her lashes at him. “Y-yeah, just waiting for a friend.” Bucky knew he should answer the texts, she didn’t like being ignored but it shouldn’t matter this one time, right?

“Jamesssyy,” she practically sang his name as the waitress came by and placed two lattes in front of them. Claire grabbed one of them without asking and took a sip before frowning. “This is way too sweet.” She mumbled. “Listen, this might be like- out of blue or whatever but do you maybe want to go Brads party tomorrow night with me? Everyone supposed to bring a plus one or their not allowed in and Stephanie is already going with Jace…”

Bucky didn’t hear a word after she asked him out, he immediately stiffened once he saw the familiar red convertible park in front of the cafe. What was he going to say to her? ‘Sorry I ignored your text, I was talking to another woman instead?’ She’d have his head for that, no matter how hot he thought jealousy looked on her he hated what came after.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” Bucky jumped in his seat, he didn’t even see her come inside. No matter how scared he was at that moment he couldn’t help but groan at the smell of her expensive perfume overtaking his senses, and not to mention the way her ass looks in that tight pencil skirt she was wearing-

“Oh? Are you Jamesy, friend? I was just keeping him company while he waited, you were taking forever.” Claire giggled while taking another sip of her latte. “Anywho, I’ll text you when you can pick me up, babe. I promise to wear those shorts you like, byeee.”

She didn’t say anything when Claire walked away, just took the same seat in front of him while staring down at the half empty mug. Bucky nervously tapped his foot, quickly trying to think of an explanation.

“(Y,n), I know what this might look like-”

“So you didn’t sit here and ignore my text, let her drink my coffee, and set up a date with her?”

Okay, it is what it looked like. But he didn’t set up a date with her, she was the one who asked him out and even though he didn’t verbally answer yes or no Claire should’ve gotten the hint; is what he wanted to say but instead he sat there with his head hung low staring at everything that wasn’t the woman in front of him.

“And now you’re ignoring me again…” At the sound of her sad voice he shot his head up stared her in the eyes.

“What? No! I-I was just-”

“Do you like it when she calls you Jamesy? Babe? Do you think because she parades her breast around that she can give you what I can’t?” (Y,n) had slipped off her shoe and harshly pressed her stockinged foot to his crotch, noticing how it started to swell as his knee bumped the table underneath. “Go on, check your text messages.”

Doing as he was told, Bucky shakingly grabbed his phone to unlock it. Her foot grinding against him shouldn’t make him horny, they were in public for Christ sake’s, sure the cafe was nearly empty but he’s never done anything like this. Only having watched it on the internet once, twice, and a few more times after that Bucky never thought he’d actually be indulging in such an act.

“Do you see what it says?”

🥰🥵🍑: I’m down the street

🥰🥵🍑: Afterwards, why don’t I take you back to my place? I have some new toys I think you’d like🖤

Fuck. He let out a quiet moan when pressed harder, slowly rubbing her foot up and down. He should’ve answered her text, he should’ve told Claire to fuck off then he’d be at (Y,n)’s house figuring out exactly what kind of toys they were going to play with but now he was being punished, in public, and it was exciting.

“But since you decided that I’m worth your time, I don’t want some manwhore in my house.” She added more pressure this time with a glare, he was being a fucking brat and frankly it was pissing her off. He let some bitch sit in her seat, drink her coffee, call him babe, ignore her fucking texts, he knows she hates that shit and he did it anyway.

“Mommy… Please. I’ll be good.” Just as he started to hump her foot she pulled away and stood up, he didn’t say anything as she dragged her chair next to him. (Y,n) flagged down a waiter as her hand trailed up his thigh, grabbing his dick once they walked up to the table.

He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t even look at the waiter once she pulled his cock out making him lean over the table and grab his mug to hide the blush creeping on his cheeks. This was just like that one video, the woman jerking off her boyfriend underneath a table at a crowded restaurant until came twice in her hand, thighs shaking from the earth shattering orgasm she gave him.

“Ignoring me once more? You’re just using me to get off aren’t you? God, you’re pathetic.” She squeezed his tip causing him to jerk his hips, Bucky should be embarrassed not turned on, he shouldn’t be shivering as she kept the same tight grip until reaching the base of his cock and paused.

“Please, please don’t stop mommy, I’m so- fuck- I’m so close...” His cock jumped a few times, pre-cum spilling over her fingers disregarding his pleas as the waiter came back. Just the thought of them getting caught made him bolder, Bucky laid his head on her shoulder as a shiver tore through his body audibly moaned to where the waiter could hear.

He raised an eyebrow at the couple before walking away. (Y,n) tilted her head down to stare at his pink face, the way he whimpered into her neck and bit his bottom lip she couldn’t stay mad forever, Bucky was her baby after all. “Aww, does my boy want to cum all over my fingers?” Breathless chants of yes spilled out of mouth as his eyes began to water from the building pleasure.

Any other day she would’ve allowed him to cum until he’d beg her to stop but today was not that day. Letting go of him she wiped her hands off on his thigh before standing up with her new latte in hand. Bucky barely had time to process what was happening, one second he was so close euphoria and the next his mommy was leaving him high and dry.

She leaned over and kissed him softly but not as long as he wished before pulling back with glare. “If I ever see you talking to that cunt again I’ll kill her where she stands, got it?” Bucky gulped, quickly nodding. (Y,n) smiled brightly before standing up straight and patting his cheek. “There’s mommy’s good boy. I’ll venmo you money for our coffee, see you later, Jamessyy.”

He sat there for a few moments before stuffing himself back into his jeans, even though he didn’t get to finish this was definitely better any porn video. Next time he’d have to get on her good side so she’d let him cum. The buzz of his phone brought his attention back to earth, Bucky wasted no time to check.

“Four hundred dollars from: MOMMY MILKERS”

"Easy, easy. It's just me." Brax makes a show of slowly closing the door behind himself and lifting his hands with a smirk, wiggling the fingers of his left hand and holding a paper bag in the other one.

You lower the gun while you shoot Brax a death glare.

"Where the hell were you? Have you gotten that slow that it takes you over two hours to check out a location now?"

Brax rolls his eyes and walks further into the suite, strutting towards the sofa that is facing your way and putting the bag onto the glass table standing in front of it. He sits down, leans back against the sofa and spans the length of the backrest with his arms while simultaneously spreading his legs in a casual pose.

"You’re cute when you’re all worried," Brax croons sarcastically, flicking his tongue over his lower lip. "You gotta chill a bit, Babycakes. This mission is already making you more aggressive than usual, and we've barely even started." He moves his head in a patronizing gesture, swiveling it minutely from side to side.

In the time it takes him to use this new ridiculous pet name, you've seized the handle of one of the knives still lying on the bed and thrown it through the open space that is lying between you and Brax. The knife lodges with a faint thud in the upholstery of the sofa, right between Brax's spread legs.

Brax's hips move reflexively backwards, his eyes widening as they take in the knife before they lift to your face and turn dangerously dark.

"What did I tell you about calling me those stupid names?" You ask, your voice sweet but your eyes deadly.

Brax pulls the knife out and inspects it.

"You'll be the one paying for the damage," he states as he stands while still not looking at you. He flips the knife once in his hand and lets it fall, blade first, into the armrest this time. "You're lucky you didn't touch the suit." He tugs at the lapels of his suit jacket and smooths a hand down the crisp, white shirt.

"I ain't paying shit. And we both know that this hasn't anything to do with luck," you snort derisively as you watch him approach.

"You know..." He stops right in front of you. "You should be more grateful to someone who brought you some muffins."

"I'll be grateful when this mission is over, and I'll finally be able to get rid of you."

Brax's face splits into a large grin.

"Funny. Last time we split up, you weren't that keen to kick me out of your bed."

Brax laughs loudly when you try to reach for one of the knives in your boots and catches your wrist to stop you. He blocks your other hand that has come up to punch him in the side of the face, taking hold of this one too, and hooks a foot behind one of your legs to get you off balance and to fall, with him on top, onto the bed.

"Now, let's see how sharp they really are." Brax holds both of your wrists with one of his large hands, and pulls a knife out of your boots to run the blade slowly along your top. You can feel the metal grazing your skin as it cuts through the fabric, but Brax never breaks your skin.

"I liked that shirt," you tell him flatly, your eyes observing his movements.

"I'll make up for it." Brax stares into your eyes, a mischievous smile playing over his lips.

"Promises, promises," you tease.

The knife clatters to the floor when Brax lets go of it and finally moves into action.

After that... interesting exchange, Steve goes into “Captain Mode,” as it is often called. Bucky takes note of this immediately and straightens up.

“Now, the reason I called you in here is because Tony found someone who he believes is tied to HYDRA.”

After that word leaves Steve’s mouth a grimace forms on Bucky’s face. HYDRA has always elicited this reaction from the brunet, and Steve knew he was about to make things even worse- albeit in a different way.

“The man’s name is Liam Smith. He’s a director and producer for no popular films. Now, upon hearing his name you’d think, ‘wow, that guy has the most common first name for a male and most common last name in America. He must be a boring character.’ And you’d be right. His file is squeaky clean. Too clean.”

“What got him on Tony’s radar in the first place is his obsession with your look-alike, Sebastian Stan. He’s an actor. You two look and sound exactly the same- if you were to cut your hair, or he grew out his, no one would be able to tell the difference- save the metal arm, of course. Now, normally this would be okay, but Smith has notably talked positively about HYDRA to various media outlets. This could be nothing, but we should treat it as something.”

Bucky understood where the captain was coming from. They can’t take chance with HYDRA. Now all that mattered was figuring out what Steve wants him to do. Upon voicing this question, Steve paled noticeably. 

“Well, Stan is going to be in a new movie he’s filming.”

No.

“So we figured, seeing as you two look alike..”

NO.

“You can take his place and get information that way.”

N-

“You don't have a choice. I’m sorry, Buck, but you really don’t. We can’t chances, and this is the best way to way to get information, and take him down if he is HYDRA.”

Steve gives Bucky his best sympathetic smile, and this sends shivers down Bucky’s spine. There’s more.

“Alright, what’s this movie about?”

“Looks like we’re partners, Barney.”

(Y/n) wears a smirk as she strolls up to the brooding brunet. Bucky glances down, eyeing her with a glower on his face.

“Don’t call me that. And Steve didn't mention anything about partners.”

(Y/n)’s smirk grows.

“I know, Boinky. I decided it for myself. I can’t let you do this alone. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to see it firsthand and laugh at you.”

Bucky lets out a low growl. She’s enjoying this way too much.

“I fucking hate you, you know that? ‘cause I do.”

(Y/n) rolls her eyes, letting out a sigh at his dramatics.

“If you hate me, then why are we dating?”

“That’s a very good ques- ow! Why the hell did you hit me?!”

Shaking her hand after punching her boyfriend in the gut, (Y/n) plainly states, “Because you swore at me. Well, technically not at me, but in reference to me.”

“It’s not my fault I swear this much,” Bucky frowns, “I get it from being around you and your potty mouth.”

(Y/n)’s face twists up at this.

“Did you really just say potty mouth?”

Shaking her head, she puts her hands on her hips and continues.

“Besides, I haven’t swore once. The readers can confirm this.”

Bucky froze stock-still at her words, shuffling nervously.

“...the what?”

Another smirk forms on (Y/n)’s lips.

“You’re too much of a bucket head to understand the intricacies of the multiverse.”

As the last word rolls off her tongue, Bucky stiffens even more.

“..yeah.. I have so many questions..” 

There is a slight tremor in his voice as he says this, making (Y/n)’s (e/c) orbs narrow in suspicion.

“Further proving my point. Anyway, do you remember your role?”

“My role in the mission or my role in the movie? Because I don’t remember shit about “my” character, but I do remember my role in the mission.”

A small sigh leaves (Y/n)’s lips, before curling back into her familiar smirk.

“Well, fun fact- we need to do something about your little look-alike.”

“Wait, why?”

“’Cause we can’t have you both showing up at rehearsals, and we need to get his script. Stark couldn’t get a copy.”

Bucky whips around to look at (Y/n), looking at her like she’d been injected with the G-Virus and grew an eye on her arm.

“Do you know how tightly kept those scripts are?! How do you expect us to get it?”

(Y/n) looks at him with a deadpan stare, her eyes screaming how stupid he is for not figuring it out.

“Were going to find Sebastian, follow him, break into his hotel room, knock him out and then drag his unconscious body into the woods nearby.”

“And leave him there?!”

“No, you dumbass. There should be a safe house there.. should.”

(Y/n) whispered the last part quietly so Bucky wouldn’t hear it. He didn’t.

Bucky nods to himself at her words.

“..so, what are we actually going to do?”

“Exactly what I said.”

“You’re kidding,” Bucky eyes (Y/n), taking note of her stoic expression, “you’re not kidding.”

Turning away from the (h/t), he clenches his fist and looks at the ground in defeat.

“I’m in love with a psychopath.”

Ignoring her boyfriend and his existential crisis, (Y/n) asks FRIDAY for Sebastian’s location.

“Mr. Stan is currently at the Starbucks on [REDACTED] street.”

Nodding to herself, (Y/n) takes on her most common facial expression.

“He has taste. Good. Let’s get moving, babe.”

Resigning to his fate, Bucky nods and begins following behind (Y/n).