Noodlecup100
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When the world ends, you’re shit out of luck- but your family is at least there to cushion the blow. Once your last tether to life before the fall is broken, however, you’re forced to set off with just the tattered shirt on your back and the yellowed picture of your late brother. Sad, lonely, and lost.
Not for long.
Bookmarked by Noodlecup100
31 Mar 2025
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- Words:
- 209,242
- Works:
- 3
- Bookmarks:
- 456
Bookmarked by Noodlecup100
17 Mar 2025
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There were a lot like you after the crisis.
Children that lost everything, their homes, their family…
Orphans born from the war
No one ever cared about you since thenEverything changed when you met the Shambali Monk, Mondatta
He taught you to relieve the pain and to live again
You swore loyalty to him and he took you with him at the ShambaliBut another unexpected encounter changed your life…
Bookmarked by Noodlecup100
22 Dec 2024
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The Time Variance Authority would like to welcome you to the newly restructured department of Enforcement! Your job, should you choose to accept it, is to become the handler of newly acquired freelance enforcers, ensuring they use TVA technology appropriately.
(You, the reader, have been given a promotion. Unfortunately, this requires you to become the live-in babysitter to Deadpool and Wolverine themselves, while attempting to hide your mutant status from them. Eventual Logan/Wade/Reader poly relationship.)
Bookmarked by Noodlecup100
25 Aug 2024
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⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆
A dark, hooded figure emerged from the dense snowstorm, growing far too tall as it approached. You shuffled back weakly in the bloodstained snow and winced as you jostled the trap clamped on your boot.
“What is this?” the man’s voice rumbled, muffled behind his mask. “You are…not what I expected to catch today.” He crouched and cupped your cheek reverently, as if you were a tiny creature whose delicate bones would snap at a too-rough touch.
You flinched at first — but he was warm, so warm.
“You are very far from home, aren’t you, Kleines Häschen?” he mused, honeyed words drawn out slowly as you relaxed into his palm. “Come, let me tend to your wound. Rest by my fire, just for a little while.”
The man scooped you up from the snow, unresisting. Sleep whispered sweet temptation as you were cradled to his chest, lulled by the blood loss and his steady steps. You gave in to the beckoning darkness, and allowed your heavy lids to close, like he said—
just for a little while.
- Language:
- English
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Bookmarked by Noodlecup100
27 Dec 2023