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jiejies-corner-store · 18 days

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THE AVENTURINE FIC 😭😭 OH GOSH IM CRYING 😭😭

i’m so sorry, anon! here this should make it up 😭😭 the devil knows you're dead

pairing. aventurine x reader

tags/tw: fem!reader, references to a complicated childbirth, mother!reader, father!aventurine, spoilers to aventurine's real name, spoilers in reference to 2.1 trailblaze questline, aventurine’s nihilism and depression, references to death, hurt/comfort, ooc aventurine probably, i make shit up at the end because i want a happy ending—bite me.

sfw

a/n: ouchie. i finished 2.1 and it hurt. it hurt a lot. the ost for the “all the sad tales” is genuinely so beautiful. the trumpet just feels so melancholy yet hopeful it just goes so perfectly with aventurine’s story. but i need something that feels good now. ABSOLUTELY NOT PROOF-READ pt. 1

“As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.”

It was cold. Cold and warm. Almost feverish feeling. The type of feeling you’d get when you were freezing but your skin was hot to the touch. There was this frustrating beeping noise somewhere off in the distance that you just couldn’t tune out, finally you opened your eyes to see a sea of darkness, and seemingly at an unreachable horizon, a large circle of white light that looked like a gate.

“You’re not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice came from beside you. How you didn’t realize there was a whole person standing next to you, you had no clue.

“Well, that’s not originally what I was going for, but now I’m a bit worried I might be,” you laughed, nervous, but curious all the same. This… person you couldn’t quite make out an exact face, or even a body for that matter, but ther was this distinct feeling that it was in fact a person. Like your instinct knew, but your brain couldn’t quite fill in the details.

“This is a place beyond mortal comprehension, if I tried to explain it to you, you would only be more confused. Walk with me,” the entity said, and without even willing your body to do so, you followed. Ripples emanated from each step as you followed and soon the inky void around you melted into an unfamiliar planet.

The sky was a deep purple, streaked with red that looked like lighting that crackled along the sky. Instead of the fluid, black ground, sand now shifted as you moved foward. Inside a small hut made of rock, you saw a woman cradling a swaddled child.

“Such a lucky child, such a blessed child… Just like your name. A gift from THEM to Avgin… my boy…”

You turned to the figure beside you and hesitantly asked, “Where are we?”

“A land of rock, but not water, lightning, but not rain, blood, but not tears,” the entity responded cryptically, which only caused a crease in your brow. You went closer to the mother in the hut and sat next to her. She whispered a blessing onto her child, but none of the words made sense to your ears. Similar to the entity, it’s like your brain scrambled them from your understanding.

The mother cried. You tried to wrap your arms around her to comfort her but only phased through her like a ghost. The baby too began to cry.

Then, the scene changed again, suddenly it was a cell with iron bars. A blond young man sat next to you. The blond’s gaze was downturned, but you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“—Thirty tanba… that’s all my life is worth.”

“That’s not…” you said, but realized it was all in vain. You tried again to take Kakavasha’s hands into your own. You wantd to take the cuffs off his wrists and cradle where the skin was rubbed raw.

“It's all or nothing…”

“Kakav—agh!”

Your future never existed You█ future never existed You█ future ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er ████ted You█ fut███ █e█er ████ted Yo██ ██████ █e█er ████ted

Your mind felt clouded, a searing headache, followed by an inability to even pin down a coherent thought. The scene shifted once more.

“What’s going on!” you shouted at the figure that stood only silently next to you, crippled on the ground, clutching at your head, fingers pressing in to try to find the spot that would alleviate this awful pressure.

When your senses were no longer blinded by pain, you were back to that inky void you started in, but this time you weren’t alone. Not far away, maybe twenty feet or so, was your Kakavasha, and a woman you didn’t recognize.

“Why are we born into this world if it's just to die?”

You stumbled to your feet to try to run to him, but with each step closer he only got further away. He walked towards that gate of light. In your head, you heart was pounding faster and faster. You failed to catch up to him. He only got further and further away until he disappeared like fireflies dispersing into the night, “Kakavasha! No—!”

Utterly devastated, you sunk back onto your knees. You didn’t know why but you had this distinct feeling of loss. Tears rolled from your eyes freely. He… he wasn’t gone surely? The entity’s presence reappeared next to you.

“Why did you show me all of this,” you asked, not sure if you actually wanted an answer.

“Because you need to go back,” the entity answered and your jaw locked, gritting your teeth so hard they hurt.

You screamed into the void, “You’re the one who brought me here!”

“I never call anyone to me… you mortals believe that it is US that determine when your time to go is… but in truth it is your own doing, whether it is your body or your mind that gives up first,” the entity said, “It is only the strength of your will that will allow you to continue down your destined path… but many give up on that path and someone else must be chosen.”

“What does this have to do with me,” you snapped. “Why are you meddling in my life? What does Kakavasha have to do with this?”

“Kakavasha still has a long road ahead of him. I have supplemented his journey all his life. It was only recently he was able to live on his own will,” said the entity ”Your body is giving up. I do not have the power anymore to keep him alive. That lies with you.”

Your surroundings melted again. You were in a hospital room and on the bed was you. Eyes closed and steadily breathing, but your heartbeat was weak. The annoying beeping from before was louder and more prominent.

“You wanted to help him. During his past, you reached out each time. There is nothing you can do about that now, but the future and the present… you still have a choice.”

Laying a hand on your unmoving body, there was a slight resistance, but with just a bit more pressure you felt as if you could phase through it entirely.

“What do I need to do,” you asked the entity.

“Live.”

You furrowed your brow at that. Of course you wanted to live… right? The entity gestured for your hand, you obliged. Against your palm was an oddly soft feeling. Warm. Like a mother’s touch against your’s. Your palms pressed together, the entity spoke,

“May the goddess Gaiathra close HER eyes three times… Keep your blood eternally pulsing… Let your journey be forever peaceful… …and your schemes forever concealed."

You lifted your head and your “body” began to disappear similar to how Kakavasha disappeared. Just before you disappeared into sparks of golden light, you had the sense about you to ask:

“Who are you?” you felt like you were shouting, but your voice was quiet.

“You could call me Fenge Biyos.”

You opened your eyes with a deep gasp for air. Your surroundings were blurry, and you rubbed at your eyes, only to realize Kakavasha was up, standing next to your hospital bed with an anxious expression, hands already grasping the one that was wiping crust from your eyes.

“You’re awake,” he choked out, holding you as if you would break, “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I did this to you that I—”

“Kakavasha, slow down, what… why are you—no, don’t be sorry,” you finally found your words, sitting foward on the bed to wrap your arms around him. You racked your brain, trying to figure out what was going on. Your mind was still foggy, but finally that haze disappated and you remembered everything leading up to now.

“Kakavasha~” you hummed in a song-like tone, a small wrapped box with a blue and purple bow tied around it. You skipped over to his desk and wrapped your arms around his shoulders where he sat, and placed the gift in front of him, laying your head on his shoulder as your arms tightly hugged him. “I have a surprise.”

He smiled with a small laugh, “Doesn’t this usually work the other way around?” He pecked a kiss onto your check before pulling the bow off and opening the lid of the box, when he froze.

The smile on your face faltered bit when he didn’t say anything after a bit. The corners of it tightened into a more forced position, “Kakavasha? You’re gonna be a papa…”

The joy in his face from earlier had completely vanished. Only replaced by a stony, cold, poker face. He pushed his chair back and you stumbled into the wall behind. He gave you a tight smile and kissed your forehead before heading for the door and grabbing his hat. “I’ll be back later.”

With that, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving you at a loss as you fell into his chair, feeling suddenly so very empty in this large office alone.

He came back after that, apologetic for leaving you, but nothing felt truly right. He continued to reassure you that he did want to have this child, but it was a strenous time. The entire pregnancy was stressful. The doctors warned you that the level of stress you were under put you at risk for a premature birth, but you brushed them off. It was just the hormones, you were sure. Kakavasha still loved you. The ring on your finger should’ve been proof enough of that.

“How about the name Ilyas?” you suggested, laying your head on Kakavasha’s lap, “I was… looking at some databases about Avgin names and I thought that one was nice. What do you think?”

Aventurine hummed, but his mind seemed elsewhere. You let it go.

The next few months continued on in similar fashion.

But it all came to a head.

The two of you were standing in the kitchen. It had started off small. The hormones and the stress were getting to you. It was an off hand comment about him not fixing dinner, and you were tired and hungry from carrying around his child.

From there it had escalated. It turned into you were tired of feeling like you were walking on eggshells when you talked about the pregnancy. About how he was barely around for the appointments, and when he was he seemd emotionally distant… finally he exploded

“I never asked for this!” he shouted. “When did I ever say I wanted to be a father? Did you even ask me? Did you think about what I felt about this whole thing at all?”

You paused, feeling tears well up in your throat as a white-hot fear flashed through your body. You laughed, a hollow sound, “I’m sorry, Aventurine, I thought it took two people to make a baby? And you certainly made no attempt to use protection.”

He didn’t have anything to say about that. Even though the argument seemed over, you felt a nauseous feeling crawling up in your throat. Your tears felt like acid burning through your skin. Then a pain in your stomach. Your knees gave out and the last thing you remember was the scared expression on Kakavasha’s face before it all went dark.

“I was scared…. I was so scared that bringing another Avgin into this world would only bring misfortune onto you… that Gaiathra Triclops would take you from our child, just like my mother was taken from me,” he openly cried into your shoulder. “I took it out on you. I made something that should’ve been a beautiful experience something that was awful, and I understand… if you never forgive me for that but please…. please don’t leave.”

Now you were crying with him, one hand tangled in his blond locks and the other rubbing his back. Quietly, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “I can’t lose you too.”

You thought for a long time. In front of you wasn’t one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC. Not a calculating or cunning man, who’s only interest was in things that benefited the IPC’s bank accounts. In front of you was a broken man, who’d had everything stripped away from him when he was only a child. Who was shattered and forced to put his life back together with nothing but fear and anxiety as glue.

Did it excuse what he'd broken?

No.

“I’m here… I won’t leave Kakavasha,”

But maybe with time and effort, you could help re-glue each other with something a little more beautiful.

“Ilyas! Don’t run so far!” you called after a small blond haired child who was already ahead of you by a longshot, you turned exasperatedly to your husband, “Honey, can you go after him please? I don’t want him to get trampled by some idiot who’s not paying attention…”

The man only smiled at you, one hand firmly wrapped around your ever expanding waist, “It’s okay. There’s some of my squad that’s following him incognito. He won’t get out of our sights without them dragging him back. We can let him get his energy out. He’ll be cooped up in a hospital soon.”

You huffed conceded. Already tired from just getting through the theme park’s entrance. You were due in about two weeks, but Kakavasha was insistent that a week before you’d be under hospital supervision until you brought your second child into the world. It had taken about five years before the two of you had healed enough and there were roadbumps along the way… but you were both ready to give Ilyas a little sister.

But for now, the two of you wanted to let Ilyas have one more day as an only child. The reconstructed Penacony was nothing like the Dreamscape of the past. Fear and secrets no longer were trapped in the gilded cage of the former prison planet. With the help of the IPC and the Harmony, New Penacony was entirely real. No more dreams, just reality. They’d kept many of their old franchises and built a true theme park.

“Mama!! Picture! Let’s get a picture here before we go in!” Ilyas screeched, pointing at Clockie statue in front of the Clock Studios main attraction. You set a hand on Kakavasha’s arm, glancing up at him to try to get a read on what he was feeling. He’d let you in on the parts of his past that he’d kept a secret. The scheme behind Penacony, his proposed “death” and his encounter with his Past and Future.

He took a breathe and looked back down at you, giving you a smile that said “I’m okay” and relief flooded your bones. After walking you over in front of the camera, he crouched down and scooped Ilyas into his arms.

“Ready?” the cameraman asked and you nodded. After a brief countdown the camera flashed, and for a moment in that bright light, you saw the hopeful future that lied ahead.

#aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #aventurine x you #hsr 2.1 #penacony

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whalesforhands · 7 months

Text

heave your nausea pt.9

previous masterlist next

warnings: injury mentions, blood, stabbing, angst, i feel so dramatic for this chapter

The seconds tick by, each one weighing down heavily in the tense atmosphere, the dread that fills your lungs begging you to speak, to cull this tension before it gets worse.

Lightning flashes behind you as thunder crackles down.

Geto Suguru has grown older now is what you can notice in those few seconds. Longer hair that reached and cascaded down the length of his back, a small little bun holding his bangs together to allow that familiar strand to hang over his face. He’s taller, broader—

“Panda, get back-!” Yaga’s angered shout of worry is reverberating through the room of his office, the small bear leaping off before the older man’s strong arms could wrap around and catch him.

In the blink of an eye, the small animal had made its way to the incoming attackers, growling and acting out of pure instinct to combat the fear that shivered up his body, pacifier spit out before it pounces up and just about to land a hit before a sharp punch of one of the curses threw him back.

You bubble the small bear before one of Suguru’s curses could smack it away, head turning back just in time to catch the curse that was going for Yaga before—

“You should keep your eyes on me.”

You barely have time to brace yourself before you’re thrown through the window, shards of glass and bits of rubble bouncing off of the thin shield you’ve formed around yourself that was just enough to swallow the brunt of the impact.

(You’re hardly used to the effects of being ‘dead’ for so long.)

You hurriedly bubble yourself, flying away to create distance from him and Yaga. It’s you that he wants, right? Then he’ll follow.

“Hah.” His laugh is void of humor, the look on his face scrunched into one of despaired anger and sorrow that you swore you could see seeped deep into his very soul, shoulders squared and eyebrows furrowed in despondent misery.

“You think you can run? Taking that appearance, at the very least act a little like her.”

He’s already hot on your trail, even as you do your best to fly as fast as you possibly can, cursed energy flickering as you attempt to stabilize yourself. Sweat and anxiety bleeds into your very core.

You know he won’t listen to you right now, with the way his pretty amethyst gaze had clouded over, the way the corner of his eye threatened to spill the singular tear that was building up.

His body is acting against him to not hurt you. Yet, his mind was on a pursuit of revenge, compressed emotions of guilt and regret making him go berserk, hyper focused on only getting whatever was controlling you dead.

Because he knows, he’s accepted it by now, 6 whole years after that incident. Despite Gojo’s denial and almost manic obsession that only further twisted Suguru’s own possessiveness of your corpse.

You can never be alive.

(Yet, why are you standing before him, breathing once more? Why does whatever parasite within you act so similar? Down to your breathing pattern, way of movement, hell, to even the way you tuck your hair behind your ear— This hurts, thishurtsthishurtsthishurts—)

You’re sending out barrages of small, knife like hardened formations of your shields towards him, acting as a deterrent to slow him down.

“Her powers are not for you to use.” His voice is deadpan, cold and absolutely heartbreaking to hear as he flies through with ease.

Your hands clasp around the one that was squeezing your throat, his grip so strong that even you could tell he was barely holding back from crushing your windpipe.

He’s caught up to you, broke through your lackluster power through sheer willpower that was fueled by rage.

You can’t stop him.

“S-Su—!”

“Don’t you dare try that, you vile thing.” He clenches down harder on your neck, eyes softening just the slightest when he sees you struggle from the pain, before you see his focus, his anguish come back into light, the tears in his eyes beginning to gather the more he looks at you. “You’re lucky you look like that.”

The last sentence came out as a whisper, a silent act of mercy before his hold relents just a little, enough for you to speak. “Now tell me what you did.”

What did ‘you’ do to disturb the eternal rest of his beloved? What did ‘you’ or some sick higher up pull to try to gain an upper hand on both him and his family?

He’s blind to reason, acting on pure emotion as he looks at you again and again. As if drinking in the sight of you alive, the sight of seeing you being able to live up till this point.

Your life that he would’ve gotten to see bloom if he had been stronger that day.

(Then you would’ve never been in this situation. It hurts, tears at his heart as he looks at you.)

You’re going lax, black dotting your vision as you struggle to talk, to explain yourself.

“I don’t know…!” You’re struggling to breathe as you barely pant that sentence out. It’s the truth, you really don’t know. Your legs kick as you struggle for him to loosen his grip, your heart squeezing and clenching at the feel of your beloved Geto Suguru harming you.

You never wanted this.

“Not talking?” He suddenly drops you, letting you free fall from his grip in the sky as you blearily see him pull out a spear from his worm. “Then die.”

You can block this. You can, can’t you? No. Don’t try to risk it. Teleport instead. You look back only to catch sight of a blonde on the battlefield.

“Nanako, don’t—!” It’s too late, the picture had already been taken as the blonde girl starts focusing all her cursed energy into it, shifting the photographed items around in her panic.

A foolishly brave attempt to save you.

The background begins to shift, the trajectory of the already whirling spear rocketing towards the blonde girl now.

No—!

You’re pierced through your midsection, the weapon stopping short of your front as you feel the metal plunge deep into your guts, cold steel making contact with warm flesh as it embedded itself into your very core, your clothing seeped in your own blood as you choke from the pain.

Ah. It’s almost laughable how your teleport only ever works in situations like this.

“Geto and Gojo?” Yaga sighs, leaning back into his chair as he let a look of mock annoyance grow on his face.

You vigorously nod your head.

“Those troublesome brats married and adopted a bunch of kids together. The twins, a little boy and his sister.”

You can’t let her see her own parent in his manic state. You hold her closer, hiding her face away into your chest and pulling yourself together into her, practically smothering her face as you feel her start to cry, to tremble in your arms.

“I-I’m sor-Ry! I wanted t-to help!”

“Shh… Shh. I’m sorry, Nanako. Be good for now and trust—“ You’ve heard her call you that. “Mama… Okay?” You ignore the stabbing pain, ignore the agony of your physical body as you fight back the tears, the sheer suffering of the wound as you feel prickling burn of having a weapon shoved into you.

(Because Suguru must’ve gone through hell to be reacting like this.)

She physically relaxes, body going limp and slumping her head forward, the tension leaving her as you tighten your arms around her protectively.

“You damned fiend.” You can hear the soaring of the manta ray that closed in on the both of you, your back hiding Nanako away from plain sight.

“What?” He almost sounds like he’s in disbelief. “You think clinging onto whatever you’re holding now is going to—“

He feels it, that weak, faint, but familiar pulse of cursed energy. Nanako, one of his beloved children.

And it starts to hit him, the plunge of an arrow of realization sinking deep into his bones as he starts to gain back a sense, the smallest shred of reason that stemmed from his uncontrollable, unrelenting belief that you could still possibly be alive.

Not a single time did ‘you’ try to land a harmful hit on him.

Not a single time did ‘you’ care more about ‘your’ well-being first.

Not a single time did he allow himself to let go of his rage.

(All this time, he had still been grieving after all.)

No. Nonononononono—! It can’t be, he saw it, he saw the day that that incident happened, there is no plausible way. There is absolutely—

“You… Let Nanako go now.”

You relent, letting the little girl go as her teary gaze meets her own father’s. “Papa…” She’s crying hard, not understanding just what was happening right now. Why are you so beaten up? Why does he look so angry? There weren’t any scary curses for him to beat up… So why?

Explanations can be saved for later, Geto decides. A smaller, cuter curse is summoned. Friendlier and one of his least threatening in nature.

“Papa will— Explain later. Leave us for now, okay, sweetie?”

Nanako nods, quickly glancing at you and waving goodbye as you try your best to return, doing your utmost best to hide the fact you’ve been stabbed through your torso as she gets on the doglike curse that swiftly carried her away.

You’re both alone now. Rain pelting down onto the both of you as you’re slumped over on the ground, knelt down and defeated, the dress that you had awakened and found yourself wearing dirtied and stained in mud and debris, ripped and torn at the skirt from the battle. Bruises marked your neck and exposed skin as your blood flowed from the many cuts you had sustained.

It’s over. You lost.

“S-Suguru…” You manage to croak out as your fingers dig into the dirt below you. “I’m sorry.”

You close your eyes as tears spill down. “I-I don’t know.”

Don’t know how you’re here. Don’t know why you’re alive once more. Don’t know what’s happening anymore.

You’re ready to be executed by him if that was what he intends to do. You’re just happy you get to see most of them again after so long.

“Thank— You. For letting me see you all- again.” You’re trembling as you try to smile through it. To let him see at least that you won’t, don’t fault him for his actions.

You will forgive him no matter what. Simply because that was who you were.

In that moment, Geto Suguru realized he had made yet another mistake. The way your voice tenderly, softly enunciated each syllable of his name. Your manner of speech, your words. It’s irreplaceable, impossible for anyone else to imitate.

It is you. There is no mistake this time.

(Even if this was a lie, he’ll happily live in its beauty.)

He’s down on his knees before you now. Hand shaking reaching out and gingerly pressing your head into his chest. Right onto his heartbeat.

(Trusting. Unguarded. He’ll let himself be deceived just this time around.)

His forehead pressed against your own as you feel a tear hit your cheek, his now grown black hair cascading down around the both of you, acting as a curtain that barely shielded you both from the pouring rain.

“I missed you.” It’s your voice that echos in his ears first, like a broken melody that was overplayed a time or two, it shrouded him in his long awaited relieve. The night that ran low, leaving him alone all these years had him running, chasing after the long shadow the lone lamp extended to him. He held on and on and on, and yet— It dissolves away to hear you talking to him once more.

The guilt that riddled him for years dissipates with your flickering life.

“Shoko— I’ll bring you to Shoko, okay?! Don’t close your eyes!” He’s picking you up bridal style as he carefully, skillfully avoids pressing against your wound to keep your blood within you.

You’re barely responsive, starting to lose your consciousness again as you nod.

“If I get another chance…” Your hand trails up to his cold, rain ridden cheek. “I’d love to— Spend it with you all again.”

“Stop talking!” He’s crying now, shouting and ignoring you in favour of speeding towards the school with you in his arms, pushing his curse to fly faster and faster as he cradles you close.

He will make it this time around. He will save you and fix what he couldn’t. For if he doesn’t, he won’t be able to endure the pain anymore.

previous masterlist next

Notes:

Suguru gave up because he heard you call his name. That was enough for him.

Suguru has seen Panda before. He went easy on it and was careful not to hurt it too much even in his rage.

Much like Panda, he went gentle with you too. He still wants to preserve the body, after all.

Suguru has reversed cursed technique in this au. Much like Gojo, he can only use it on himself and not others.

Healing bubbles take a LOT and I mean a LOT of cursed energy. You don’t have RCT but you do have that aha.

Gojo’s still picking up Megumi and Tsumiki. Legends say that Ijichi’s just pulled the car up to the school.

You couldn’t really talk during your midair chase with him, it would slow your cursed technique because of how little cursed energy you could muster up. You were basically breaking into your reserves with how much you had left.

nvy’s aftertalk:

i have an obsession with u getting in deadly situations hahah

get it? cause pt.6 was called endure ur pain so that last sentence narrows back to it cause geto never fully stopped enduring it hahaha

#dyf au #geto x reader x gojo #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #whalewrites #satosugu x reader #geto suguru x reader

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slashisms · 1 year

Text

a mutual understanding

pairing: billy loomis x reader

rating: M. 18+, minors dni

warnings: possessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, violence mention, slight dom/sub dynamic

word count: 1.4k

summary: modern!au inspired by some tumblr post i saw.

a/n: i wrote this on mobile so if grammar gets you hard, skip!

billy loomis is possessiveness personified. not in a jealous or overbearing way, or because of any unspoken insecurity (so he says). it’s a character trait. if you’re with him, you have to belong to him. you accept those parts of him as easily as you accept his wit or charm or humor. he’s been upfront with you about it, what he expects and how he wants you to behave. honestly, it looks unpleasant from the outside, but the last thing on his mind is what anyone thinks. you wouldn’t be with him if you didn’t enjoy it and your opinion is the only one that has a hope of mattering.

he’s never more than a foot from you if he can help it and keeps a very close eye on you when he can’t. he dislikes when you’re out of his sight, touching you at all times. every second his arm is around your waist or shoulder, a hand on your arm or hip or thigh or ass. he wants you close, where no one else can look at or reach you without catching his eye and invoking his wrath.

he’s a firm believer that people around you shouldn’t be allowed to look at you too freely. the moment he took an interest in you, he made it his mission to prevent strangers from approaching you. he’s like a scary dog, glaring at them with dark eyes that promise violence. he made it clear to everyone you were his. walking with billy’s arm around your waist, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd and darting to you every so often with a tiny smirk is a common sight.

when he catches someone glance at you for too long, his dead eyes bore into theirs, face void of any expression, but with a clear message: fuck around and find out. very few have found out, quickly choosing to direct their attention elsewhere. the ones that have are surprised by the strength behind billy’s lithe form, the viper like quickness behind each movement and the unrelenting bloodlust in his attacks. he’s a sight to behold, a whirlwind of limbs and an unhinged grin on his face. he lives for bare knuckled violence done in your honor, like a prayer of one fucked up heretic. if he thought you’d let him kill for you, he would.

thankfully, you draw the line at beating up assholes who don’t know how to take no for an answer. it’s the closest to worshipping you he’s going to get, shoving the face of some prick into gravel until he coughs out an apology. he knows you’re truly made for him because your eyes sparkle, voice low and sultry as you smile up at him and murmur, ‘thank you, billy,’ afterwards. the two of you are shameless, eye fucking until you can find a place to be alone (your decision, not his. he’d tie the guy up and fuck you right there let’s be honest.)

as much as he wants to, billy can’t put his hands on everyone. particularly, losers in your DMs. he despises social media and the shallow, vapid people who gather on there like sycophants and no matter what he says, you don’t share the same burning hatred. it only takes one good picture of you— and they’re all beautiful, for the desperate creeps to come crawling in. it’s almost a ritual: you post, choosing to ignore any incoming notifications while he scrolls through them and soon after it’s not long before he’s discarding your phone for the rest of the night while he fucks you senseless.

if he’s feeling particularly cruel, he’ll record you on it, ignoring the way you stammer and protest. he works smoothly to cajole you into it, forcing you to show him who you belong to. the way you shout his name has his heart in a chokehold, he’ll never let you leave him. you’re quick to block all of them later, even if you are amused by how annoyed he gets.

billy feels it doesn’t send enough of a message, that you’d never think of entertaining them because you have everything you could possibly want and need from him. he’s painfully aware of how lucky he is to have you, you’re gorgeous and smart and compassionate. he satisfies you and they should know it.

speaking of, he’s laying in your bed on your phone when he sees a notification. it’s not even a real message, a pathetic attempt from a spineless coward that’s never gotten past ‘Hello’ with a woman and communicates like a child. that’s what the sad heart eyes emoji he’s sent conveys.

why does this guy think he could pull you with a fucking emoji? as far as compliments go, it’s laughable. you deserve to be exalted. it makes him angrier. if they’re going to ignore the clear signs of a happy relationship he insists you leave all over your page, they could at least be a viable alternative. as the equivalent to dog shit left on the sidewalk, their audacity was infuriating.

billy reaches for you where you’re curled into his side, occupied with the movie you’re watching until you’re distracted by his soft touches to your skin. you look up at him, raising your eyebrows. he’s able to slide his hand under your neck and a thrill runs through him at the way you tilt your head to give him better access, without question. your skin is warm and your pulse thrums softly under his fingers. “c’mere,” he orders, pulling you forward.

you melt under him as he kisses you, arching eagerly into his mouth. he squeezes the sides of your neck softy, a firm pressure that has you settling down obediently. he moves from your lips to your neck, placing gentle kisses on the hollow of your throat. your pleased sigh is followed by a squeak of surprise when he bites you, sucking and dragging his tongue against your skin until the blood vessels burst. bruising appears faint on your skin which billy has always taken as a challenge. his experienced mouth has your skin coloring in no time, ignoring the whimpers you let out beneath him.

you easily distract him from his original intentions, pupils blown wide, chest heaving and lips parted into an adorable pout. he can’t resist climbing on top of you, lording over you for a moment to gaze at your expression. no one else would ever see you like this. “billy, please,” you whine.

he bites back a smile. you’re so cute, not even sure what you’re asking for, content to let him decide what to give you and when. it feels as if he’s gonna burst into flames. “open your mouth, sweetheart,” he murmurs and you do.

fuck, he wants to ruin you. to see how much you’ll take, what you’ll let him do. he curls four fingers around your jaw and pushes his thumb into your mouth. your eyes flutter closed and you wrap your plush lips around the digit, lavishing attention onto it with your tongue. he’s painfully hard, all coherent thought rushing south with his blood. “good girl,” he praises just to watch you squirm, rubbing thighs he knows are soaked together.

as much as he wants to fuck you, he still has to address the matter at hand. when he pulls out your phone, your eyebrows furrow and your eyes move around his face. you don’t say anything, waiting for his direction or explanation. the power you give him over you makes his cock throb, he’s aching to be inside of you, to mark you inside and out. he leans forward and presses your foreheads together. “you’re mine.” he says darkly. “all these fuckers begging for your attention, but that’s mine too. all of you, every inch. isn’t it, baby?”

and you’re perfect, nodding along to his every word, eyes wide and desperate. he pulls back to take the picture, sending it without a second thought. it’s a close up, nothing visible besides his hand wrapped around your throat and the bruising on your skin but he’s committed the image you make to memory. the message ‘she’s not interested’ follows the picture and within seconds, the seen notification appears.

billy’s done with this nobody, he’s got an obedient little angel to take care of. he tosses your phone on the bed and focuses all his attention on you. the guy unsends the message. so does every one after him.

#billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x black!reader #slasher x reader #black!reader #reader insert #black reader insert #mine.txt #an impulse upload 😋#drabble.txt

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brabblesblog · 3 months

Text

Louder.

Centuries before the circumstances of his ascension, Astarion watches the sunrise. Inspired by this artwork by pickled0ctopus For @glorious-void

TW: Torture, implied SA, Non-con elements, Suicidal Ideation Read on AO3.

Louder.

He tries, gods, he really tries. But he doesn’t have much voice left; today’s session with Godey had all but scratched his larynx raw.

He feels the chafe of the manacles on his wrists. He knows better than to fight against them, knows there’s no winning that, but Cazador liked having him do it anyway - for the theatrics of it, he had said.

That voice in his head, incontestable.

So he had fought, tugging and pulling and yanking with a desperation that was not his, no, if it were up to him he’d just hold his hands slack but he has to fight, has to pull until his wrists are broken bloody weeping everywhere -

A loud crack behind him, and he screams as the whip lands, as requested. However the only thing that comes out of his mouth is a broken, hoarse groan. He despairs, knowing he’s failed his master yet again.

“The master said louder.” Godey cracks the whip again, and Astarion manages a louder sound this time, halfway between a shout and a moan.

Please, he thinks, let that be enough.

He knows it is anything but.

He’s on a bed, the sheets white and clean in one of the guestrooms; a small comfort, one that he knows won’t last.

He eyes the window warily. The curtains are peeled back just far enough for a sliver of moonlight to land across him; Astarion arches his neck. The moonlight falls across his Adam’s apple, his hair falling back in silvery waves.

Whatever new thing Cazador has thought up, Astarion thinks, might be preferable to the horrors Godey does. He had run out of sounds to make, of screams to titillate his master’s ears.

And so Cazador had instructed him to clean up, boy, and lay down on the guest bed.

Open the windows a fraction. Let the moonlight touch you.

Do not move a muscle and watch the dawn arrive.

Astarion had done just so. He wonders if the master intended to kill him this way, hopes for that to be the case. Likelier than not, however, he knows that this is yet another sort of cruel punishment that he just can’t see yet.

The question of being able to die… well, he supposes not die die, as he’s dead -

Of not existing, then, is something that has been plaguing him ever since he dug his way out of his grave.

His master’s rules have so far prevented it. Not that Astarion hasn’t tried to find a loophole; years of his training as a magistrate have been put into exhausting, terrible use, trying to find some way he could circumvent Cazador’s words, twist them, and allow himself peace.

No matter what type of logic he’d use in his head it never worked; he’d always find his own body betraying him, seeking safety when push came to shove. He’d scream at himself, to just please, please, stay put and die, but his body acted of its own accord, in accordance with his master’s will.

His body. Not his anymore.

Astarion’s eyes, the only thing he feels allowed to move, keeps staring at the window. He watches the moonlight slowly wane. The hope is still there: perhaps this time with Cazador asking him to stay put he can last long enough to end; he could twist his interpretation enough to finally free himself.

Highly unlikely, he knows, but the embers of hope in his heart cannot be so easily tamped down.

All too soon the sun begins to rise. Astarion has not seen it in what seems like forever; his eyes widen to take it all in. Beautiful, the way those gentle rays illuminate everything; the small glimpse of color in a world so full of darkness makes his breath catch.

There are worse ways to end, he figures. This is positively divine.

The thought is unfortunately cut short by the sound of footsteps approaching him. His footsteps.

Cazador stares down at him, hidden in the safety of the shadows.

“Not exactly how I imagined you would execute this, but satisfactory,” he says. “A rare accomplishment, boy.” Despite himself, despite the gnawing hatred for his master, Astarion feels the swelling of pride at these words and immediately curses himself. Was he so wretched now that he craved even praise from him?

“Thank you, master,” he croaks out automatically.

Fuck.

Cazador smiles, as if hearing the thought. “One more thing.”

Astarion sees that gleam in Cazador’s eyes; in an instant what little hope he has dissolves and his undead heart begins to speed up.

Of course there was to be no freedom. His master knew better, wanted him by his side forever, of course he did, who else brought the most beautiful victims, who else had the most exquisite screams -

“You want… to live,” Cazador says, eyes glowing a faint crimson as he taps into his power over him. “You’ll want to beg me to spare you from the sun.” Long, thin fingers, fingers that have touched him in so many ways and in so many places, all of them horrible, rest against his thigh.

He feels the magic slowly take, the calm resignation and expectation of finally being allowed repose slowly morphing into panic that wasn’t his own, an alien feeling taking over him, ruling his heart and his mind.

His heart races, breathing quickens, whimpers, even as he tries to tell himself this isn’t what he wants. Betrayed yet again by his body and mind, trapped within the confines of Cazador’s will. He should be used to this by now; it’s been years of this, of endless waking nightmares of neverending bodies of dead-end hallways and pure shit -

The stream of sunlight begins to creep towards him, and Astarion struggles. He needs to keep still as commanded, but cannot stop his mouth.

“Master, please, I - I don’t want to die here,” he begins to say, his voice a wreck still. Cazador, still above him, watches with wry amusement, the hand on his thigh moving higher.

Astarion cannot help the whine that escapes him. “Please. Please.”

I’ll do anything say anything be anything just please don’t let me die here.

Never mind that those words, those thoughts, are not his; that he will never mean them in his deepest heart. He says them anyway, feels them anyway.

“I think I’d rather you be quiet, child,” Cazador replies.

Immediately his mouth snaps shut. His eyes shift over to look at Cazador, the defiance in them slowly ebbing away as the sunlight finally touches him.

Blistering, sizzling pain erupts from that line on his throat. He can hear his skin begin to burn, the crackling sound loud in the near-silent room. He doesn’t scream, doesn’t speak. Instead he watches his master, gaze conveying those traitorous feelings Cazador forces him to possess.

The pain increases, incrementally at first, and then worse as time passes. However it isn’t worse than any other pain he’s felt before, especially in Godey’s sessions.

He stares at Cazador and then at the sunlight, feeling freedom slip away from his fingers. So close to escape, to peace, and he is reminded that he can never have that. That this is it for eternity, to be Cazador’s, to spend day after day reliving the same waking nightmare without end.

A single tear falls. A different kind of pain.

If he could scream, he thinks, he could have been louder now.

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#astarion #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #astarion fic #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fic #bg3 fanart #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion whump

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wolven91 · 13 days

Text

Drifting- Part 5

There was an eon where Casper merely floated in the infinite dark.

The last thing he remembered before the dark was the concrete road, rushing up to greet him. He couldn't even put his hands up to stop himself as he had grabbed the other person's head with both hands, intending on either tearing it off or slam dunking it into the floor. He recalled, just as it all went blank, that he knew something bad had happened to his head and his neck in the same instance. Even now, a quick check of himself and he knew there were several problems, instinctually, like a perfect itemised list that remained constant in his mind's eye until he dismissed it. It was mainly his head, but he knew he was hurt in the stomach too.

With the destruction of his head, or at least he assumed his head was destroyed, saying he couldn't see, hear, smell or taste anything, nor could he feel anything when he reached up to touch where it should have been; he'd lost all sense of the outside world in an instant. Even if he thrashed or yelled or raged at the dark; nothing changed. His fingers felt nothing, he wasn't laying on anything. The young man couldn't even feel the sun on his skin. He was headless, in the perfect dark.

It was him and the void, all around him. He lay there and, with nothing else to do; Casper began to think.

[Am I dead?]

How does one know when they die? No one had come back to give instructions. Was this what happened? Casper thought back to Earth of all things. The planet which he'd had to flee. Where he'd left his family and many of his friends behind. He'd been on a night out, celebrating his birthday when it happened. Only one of his friends had been grabbed at the same time as him, the rest of his friends had avoided the grasping hands of the ursidains, running and jeering, throwing whatever was at hand.

Casper still didn't know if they had made it off before the end.

From the government records, he was apparently the only member of his family who made it.

Were they stuck in a void like this too?

No wonder ghosts were angry, lashing out he thought. Casper was already getting agitated, and he'd been alone in the void for... How long had he been here? Seconds? Hours? Days? How could he know? He couldn't even feel so much as his...

Then something changed.

The void didn't change, it was still dark and completely devoid of sensation, both physical and otherwise. But Casper could *sense* that he was exposed. Like the back of his neck had been flayed open, leaving his vulnerable spine exposed to danger.

Then there was a noise. A clank of a tool hitting metal beyond a door or wall. Then clattering, of claws on metal, clinking and skittering. More clanking, of something close by, mere inches away.

Then Casper was born for the second time.

Bright light blinded the man. It was so bright, cold, and harsh that he tried to cry out and shield himself with his hands, but the rebreather mask that covered his nose and mouth prevented him from forming sentences. His arms, although now freed from being crossed over his chest, refused to move with purpose; he feebly raised them, only to be shocked by the exhaustion and they collapsed onto him the moment he stopped to recuperate.

Several moving shadows blocked the light, but only for brief moments. The young man kept his eyes screwed up tight, squinting up at the creatures, he tried to prevent them from reach out to him, but all he did was ineffectually paw at them. The air was cold against his skin, and he felt sickly, as if starved and weak. Like he'd not eaten in days. He couldn't help but shiver. All the while this was happening, there was a deafening calamity that lanced pain through the man's mind, giving him a headache that crippled his thoughts. People shouting, tools slamming against metal. It was too much! Too loud!

Something cold and hard, like steel, wrapped around him and lifted him from the womb which had housed him in comfort and warmth. He cried out, but the metal claw that had grasped him between four unrelenting fingers was emotionless as it pulled him free and lowered him onto something yielding and soft.

"Get him to medical. Full check-up."

That was Wren's voice, the young man was certain of it. Her name was clear in his head, but he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes, it was still so bright he could only see the bright red of the inside of his eyelids. He didn't dare open them.

"*Where is it!? Who was the pilot?!*" Came a harsh voice that bellowed and echoed around the apparently enclosed building. Casper felt movement, but there was no wind against him, no sunlight on his skin. He wasn't outside. He raised a hand and placed it over his stomach, but it merely slid off, frictionless. He felt pressure, but the sensation was muted. His fingers couldn't feel his skin, and his skin could feel his fingers.

The harsh voice continued to argue with something or someone but dropped in volume as Casper was apparently moved away, into another room and now that the maelstrom of noise and activity was gone? Fell asleep.

== 0 ==

The next thing Casper was aware of was discomfort. He coughed and winced, there was something stuck in his throat, irritating it. As he reached up however, he found his hand was connected to something, stopping his movements.

Finally opening his eyes, a clean white room with minimal features came into focus. Inserted into the back of his hand was a canular. His wrist was bound to the bed with a cushioned cuff. Turning his head the tubing that connected to the back of his hand, was connected to a drip of some kind, but the bag had alien runes and text on it. It made no sense to him. Next thing he noticed was with the turn of his head, something pulled tight across his face and into his nose. He winced.

With two fingers, he reached up, confused, only to jump when a rumbling voice broke the silence.

"Don't touch that. That's how they're getting food in you."

Glancing round, there was a partially pulled curtain, blocking the source of the voice.

"Who's there? What happened?" He asked, voice rough, but no longer as weak or unintelligible as when he was first torn from the oblivion.

"You completed your first dive. Piloted a mech." Congratulated the voice. It was deep and rich, Casper's translators, of the sub-dermal variety, gave the voice a female inflection.

"That put me in hospital?"

A single chuckle.

"No. But you had no drift, so your brain forgot about your body. Took you a bit to remember. I bet it'll be easier next time." The voice continued with a hint of respect, maybe even admiration.

"Who are you?" Casper asked, trying to manipulate his face to set the tubes comfortably and failing. From behind the curtain, a new alien strutted out.

She was tall, with a serious face. The head was covered in short brown fur which covered a sloped face that met at a pointed nose. Atop her head, was dominated by a pair of long ears that hung down the back of her head and rested against the front of her shoulders. The sclera of her eyes were jet black instead of white, with the black of her pupil, it made her iris intense and dangerous looking.

She wore a rough jacket around her torso, which was left open. Beneath was a nerve suit, similar to the one Casper had worn, complete with open jacks for the needles that would stab into and connect a pilot. This skintight material covered her from her neck, down her body, past her hips and only ended above her ankles. Whilst the rest of her was petit, for such a tall creature, it was her hips there were larger than normal.

Then again, as Casper laid there watching her, with the interloper suffering his study of her in silence, it didn't surprise the human that she had legs for days. If he squinted, the alien looked the spitting image, of a bipedal hare.

"I'm a lopel." She explained, in a bored tone, pushing off from the wall that she'd leant on and again, began to slowly walk around Casper's bed. His head tracked her carefully. "And you're a human." She accused, glancing at him with the golden eyes again. There was something about the way she stared at him, it wasn't a causal gaze or even her studying him as Zeet had done last week. It felt like a threat.

"What do you want? Why are you in my room?" Casper asked, mildly concerned that this thing that was watching him carefully. The way she tiptoed around his bed put him on edge, the saunter was not idle. Was the medical staff nearby?

"I want to kill you." She said plainly.

Casper immediately looked for an alert or a nurse call button but found none. She continued regardless.

"You got lucky yesterday. You ruined my rig and I want my rematch." She explained, coming to a halt next to his drip bag, looming over him whilst keeping her chin up. He could only just see her golden eyes, staring down at him as he were nothing more than filth on the bottom of her shoe... if she wore shoes.

"I'm sor-ACK!" Casper tried to apologise, but the alien grabbed his throat and squeezed.

"Shut it! Do you know what kind of damage you've done to my-" She stopped herself, on the very edge of shouting, glanced at her hand, then let go of the young man who shrank back into the bed, staring up at her. The pain ebbed, but he was still shocked as she seemingly took a breath through her nose, closed her eyes, and took a step away, down the edge of the bed.

"You've tarnished my reputation, or at least, if anyone hears about this." She began again, with a deadly calm voice.

"I can just say I lost?" The man offered, looking for an out.

"Mm, cute. Like there wasn't a hundred eyes on us. No. I'm stuck in this contract and afterwards I'm never going to get another job again because some idiot decides they're going to bellyflop on top of me. Who the hell even taught you that?" She demanded, frowning, and shaking her face, turning to him as if it was such an incredulous idea to jump on top of someone's back. Her ears cascaded with the move of her head, like two giant ponytails.

Casper recalled that he would have landed on her back if she had stopped her 'rig' or even carried on the way she was going. The young man hadn't expected her to spin on the spot and had overshot, tearing off her 'head' and unable to protect his own.

"John Cena and it was more of a draw-" He replied, truthfully, but she wasn't listening.

"I'll add him to the list as well." She replied in a dark tone. "Next question, how did you get that mech to do that? It's the most broken and glitchy of the rigs here, literally because it's the 'pilot's first rig' mech. It's a miracle it still works!"

"I just... plugged in?" He paused before adding. "I'm not lying." This seemed to amuse her as her head flew back as she barked with laughter.

"'New Guy', you couldn't lie convincingly if your life depended on it." She pointed out, her smile, which softened her features in a lovely way; dropped in an instant. Her serious demeanour returning instantly. The room fell into silence as she pinched her chin, staring at him again. He felt a heat prickle in the space between his eyes, unable to hold her intense gaze.

"Can you blink-"

"What's your drift?" She interrupted, seemingly finding something of interest.

"Eh... A fraction of a percent? Why?"

She didn't respond, only glared at him while her hand stopped moving, still touching her face.

"I'm not-" Casper started, trying to defend himself.

"Shut up. I know you're not." She stopped him, but it wasn't her words that made the impact to the young man, but her tone. She believed him. That was evident even to him, and the 'gun barrel' stare she had been giving Casper was gone. It was a night and day change and she had barely moved an inch.

Knowledge of his 'low drift' changed the landscape for her. He'd missed something... Something important. He breathed in shakily, letting her have a moment to stop him from talking, but she remained pensive.

"How... rare is a low drift?" He asked carefully.

"Very." She stated flatly. Her golden irises flicking up, then back down as her fingers began to scratch at her chin again. She seemed to come to a conclusion and folded her arms under her chest, before tilting her head back as if unbelieving of Casper's answer even before she had asked her next question.

"So, you just... don't know about full submersion controllers?" She asked accusatively. "FSBs?"

"My planet got destroyed about... a month ago? A day before that; the most we knew about aliens was what we made up." Casper retorted, a flare of annoyance igniting in his chest. "No! I don't know *anything*!" Casper snapped back, annoyed that she wasn't getting that everything that had happened was a fluke and angry that he had to bring up such a topic just to defend himself from a mentally unstable easter bunny knock off!

It was enough though. Either his passion or his words, her next sentence was calm and low. She spoke clearly and slowly, enough for him to conceptualise what she explained.

"Fine. Just listen and maybe I can fill you in on some details our 'generous hosts' have left out for you." She offered, briefly raising her hands to air quote her words. For the next forty minutes, Qik the lopel as she would introduce herself, explained about 'full submersion controllers' or 'FSCs' and their use in the wider galaxy.

Casper learnt that mechs were not the only machine that could be controlled by thought alone. Realistically, any device could be connected to a nervous system and handled in a similar matter. Granted the more complicated a system, the more strain it put on the mind. Ultimately, the more complicated the device, the greater the drift commands will suffer. Mechs or 'rigs', were second only to full stations or battleships for complexity.

The more complicated the system, the greater the drift. The higher the drift, the more commands to the machine were lost, changed, or corrupted. Too much drift and the pilot would be lost, the machine almost becoming an animal in of itself. Taking actions without order, the pilot unable to control what now controlled them.

Ursidains had the worst drift rating of all the races. But that didn't mean they couldn't use these FSCs for their equipment, only that they were limited to 'simple' caterpillar tracked vehicles and merely targeting and firing systems for the largest equipment. The most advanced and highest trained pilots of the ursidain people could just about manage the firing mechanism of a shipbound railgun. They would leave the targeting and other systems to other parts of the crew and would merely manage the weapon's heat management and ammo selection. That was enough to give those crews an edge, but the user of the FSC would become a sickly creature; losing weight and needing to be shaved just so they could have their bodies connected to the system.

It was a well-respected, but short career with a well-paid retirement and medical coverage afterwards, Qik explained. She moved onto the other races and gave examples for them too.

Ssypnos were accomplished fighter pilots, however their mass made them quite vulnerable to gravity flight and rendered them at a disadvantage almost universally when they had to take their own weight into account. Since the smaller the ssypno meant the better the pilot, Qik spared no details when she explained it was the orphans who were selected and pressed into military service on behalf of nobles that made up the vast majority of their pilots and military. They were kept cold and hungry, ensuring they remained small and effective.

Taurian females were awful for their drift, whereas their male counterparts were much better. Their natural distain for violence however, rendered them useless.

"What about your kind? I hadn't even heard of 'lopels'." The young man asked, sat up and grimacing as he felt cold nutrient paste slowly crawl up the tube before disappearing up his nose. He felt the temperature as the gross, grey looking mixture made its way down the tube that emptied out in his stomach. He winced as his stomach protested.

"Mm, no one likes to talk about the lopel in the room. We're mercenaries."

"A whole race of mercenaries? Not a single librarian or doctor?"

"You either pay for your medical or go join the GC. Nobody wants their details in the system. Money means you can travel and eat in their zone, but we wouldn't give up or anonymity."

"So why doesn't anyone talk about you guys?"

"Because we're their dirty little secret. If two of the powers get into a fight, it's public record. If a mercenary guild are brought in to win a fight, that's a private matter."

"You're privateers?"

The brown alien shrugged and scratched blunt claws against her cheek.

"Call me what you like. I'm rich, free and happy."

"So how come you're here? Besides planning on killing me."

"Geckins were about to fight the ssypno. I've already done five sorties, and the sixth one was literally due the next day. I signed, then something happened, and everyone sent all their ships to some backend of nowhere system, calling a pause to the fighting. I'm contracted for a fight, that never happened. I signed because the same thing had happened five times before over the previous five days, how could I know the war was put on pause because of a fancy new species popped up." She grumbled, frowning, and sneering at her misfortune.

"Was the new system called 'Sol'?"

The reaction was a stiffening of the body, and her golden irises flicking up and fixing him with a stare.

"Yeah, sounds about right.

"That was us. Humans. Sorry for the delay." Casper said sarcastically, blinking and laying his head back, mood darkening. From the corner of his eye, he watched the lopel tilt her head, her ears falling to the side before she pushed up off the wall and strutted over to him. In their time together, she'd yet to stay still for more than a few moments. Even so far as to peek beyond the door every so often.

"What are you guys called again?"

"Human as a single. Humans as a plural. Humanity as a species."

"You guys use FSCs where you're from?"

"A guy successfully played a computer game with a subdermal link. That count?"

"Rudimentary, but yes."

"If you're not a fluke, and 'humanity'," she said with finger quotes. "are this low on their drift scales on average? They're going to be useful to every single species out in the stars." Qik promised, turning to sit on the bed. She gave one chuckle that spasmed her body before looking over her shoulder to admit to Casper.

"Even my own company would hire someone with *that* low a drift. Even *with* zero combat experience." She turned away and leant back on her hands, considering something beyond Casper or the room they lay in.

"Okay, so what does low drift do then?" The man asked, feeling more human as time went on. "With no drift or thereabouts?"

"No drift? That rig you were in? When you're plugged in; that's your body now. It can do what you can do. No limitations, no need for stabilisers or wasting CPU on balancing things." She turned her whole body now, lifting a leg onto the bed to face him completely.

"You put in a combat role software package into a rig and stick you in? You're going to be able to identify a weak point, select a suite of methods for capitalising on it and be ready to execute those options in the blink of an eye." Casper blinked as she snapped her fingers.

"Your rig no longer needs to think about itself, your brain will do that for you. Instead, it... and you... can focus on the target." She finished, grinning wickedly, obvious excited at the concept.

"I've never been in a fight before." Casper pointed out. He had zero training and realistically no education from back home either.

"Liar." She shot back flatly, before turning away, leaning back, and gesturing with her hand.

"You fought me. Honestly I didn't bring my Grade One game, I underestimated you and didn't have my sensor suites on." She paused and growled before grinning; her front teeth were larger than the rest of her teeth.

"Make no mistake I'd wipe the floor with you the second time round. So would anyone else... So let me train you."

There was a moment's pause as Casper waited for the second half of the joke, but all the happened was a slow stare from the lopel from over her shoulder. The grin and cool gaze remained as she waited for his answer.

"What? That's stupid! I'm not a fighter! Much less a mercenary!"

"Oh what, you got a promising career elsewhere? You're stuck in the system right now, whether that's geckin or the damn GC. Draw up a contract like mine. A single combat outing, success means you're free to draw up another one, you'll own the rig *and* you'll have enough credits to whore yourself stupid to wherever the next fight is..."

Casper paused, frowning, staring at his hands. He turned over his left one, saying his right still had a needle and tube attached that he didn't want to jostle. The back of his hand had a trio of tiny holes that had scabbed over. It was bright red at the moment, but the rings around each of the dots was already discolouring. He was going to bruise. A quick check and he found similar dots all up his arms.

"I thought you said you were stuck?"

"Until the fight starts up, I take a few pot shots, blow up a bunker or break a refinery and that's the contract complete. I'm not here to wage a war, or even fight a battle. I'm a solution to a problem the geckins have. The second this fight picks back up; I'm done and gone. I can train you between now and then. We get you on a contract, do the first one cheap so they send you with me and bam! Freedom."

"Freedom?"

"Oh yes. You join my guild, my company; and we can get you all set up with your own mech, you then work off that debt. Plus it means my defeat just looks like a failed lesson with the 'New Guy'."

"This is mental."

"I'm not hearing no. I think you'd suit something mobile. Definitely having a big engine, maybe so it can power boosters?"

Him? A merc?

The idea scared him. But it did mean he would need to get back into the rig. Something about that idea stuck. Piloting the mech, just walking around; had been great. It was like a high just for existing. But what if...

"I don't want to die."

"You're not going to. Pilots are rare New Guy, no one in their right mind would kill a pilot. Mechs fire the control pod out the back during critical failure anyway so even if you took a bad hit; your survival is more important that the machine. Friendlies grab you and scoot you back to base."

He wanted to say no. To deny her such a stupid idea. He was a kid! Barely old enough to drink! How the hell was he being told to become a solider? There was silence for a few beats.

"I heard Zeet was already building you a new rig... Looks *fancy*." She drawled.

Casper's eyes glanced up at her, she was still sat there, calm, and relaxed; but grinning from ear to ear as she gazed at him with her intense eyes. She *knew* he *wanted* to get back in.

"What would the first lesson be?" He asked, biting the wiggling bait on the end of her hook.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #geckin #lizard #lopeljack #rabbit

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pandagyaru · 7 months

Text

This isn't 2023 or whatever you just said

Deadpool x 2009 Gender neutral reader

Early 2000s au with my favorite man with a very big uh

Personality.... yeah personality lolz

Anyways my thought process is like, what if dp goes back in time on accident and needs to find out what year it is. Like 2009 or something. But he meets the prettiest little human, aka you dollies!

P.s: Your apartment is like all rooms in one, kinda like dps in the movie, except your bathroom is private, LMAO.

P.p.s: the reader is very no descriptive. Besides the fact they wear glasses!

A swirling noise fills the dark void of your open space apartment. You sit up in bed and slide your sleeping mask up on your forehead. A purple and orange hole in the abyss that is your living room. You blink the eye crusties and boogers away as you stare at it, blinking like a frog as you get used to the strange light. A red and black clad body shoots through the portal, landing on your comforter.

"WHAT THE FUCK" You shout, crawling up to your headboard. You hurry and flick on your bedside lamp to get a good look at the dead body? You don't know if the person is dead or not, but God, you didn't wanna find out. It suddenly sits up with a gasp, its head snapping towards you. It points at you.

"YOU! WHERE AM I?" The voice is masculine, so you're assuming it's a guy. I mean, you're hoping what you're assuming is right. It may be 2009, but you'd hate to misgender this stranger in your bed.

"Uh, you're in my apartment. May I ask where the fuck you came from?" You ask, leaning over and grabbing your glasses of your nightstand, slipping them on your face.

"Right, your apartment. I came from a mansion, not mine. Like a friends mansion" He explains, looking around at all your "ancient" looking belongings. "Say is it 2023?"

"Huh? 2023? No, it's 2009. Are you okay? Did you hit your head on my bed post? Like, I understand you like spawned in my apartment, but I dont think time travel is possible. doctor who" you joke, nudging your foot at him. His head whips to you.

"2009?" He asks. You nod and pull out your iPhone 3G, turning it on and showing him the date.

"Yeah. It's also 3 am. So, if you're staying, my couch pulls out into a bed. I do have to warn you, I have work at like 9 am" You tell him, getting up incase you have to pull the couch bed out. He looks over at your couch and then back at you.

"Or we could share this cozy ass bed you got yourself here." He flirts, leaning back on your bed and trying to seem seductive. You blush.

"I'll pull out the couch" you mutter, speed walking over to the couch. You bend over to grip the metal bars under the couch cushions.

"You're supposed to remove the cushions' first sugar butt" He says, standing up and walking over to you. Your face feels hot at the petname. "Its like a sleepover! All we need is movies and snacks"

"I have work, remember?" You state, picking up and throwing the couch cushions. The bed sliding out and setting itself down on the hardwood floor. He looks over at you.

"Yeah, at 9am. When did you go to bed?" He asks. You look over at him.

"Like 8pm. I was exhausted today"

"So you've had 7 hours of sleep. If we watch one movie, you'll get like 5 more hours. You'll be fine" He says, plopping his leather clad fat ass (I just had to specify that btw) on the couch bed. You think it over. You sigh.

"Fine, but we're watching catwoman. Halle Berry is gorgeous in that movie" You say, walking over to your DVD rack. You crouch down to read all the titles of movies you have. You find the movie you want and peek over your TV stand to your DVD player. You put the movie in. "Have you ever seen this movie?" You ask, walking back over to thr couch bed. Deadpool wades (HA GET IT?) over his response. The truth is he hasn't seen it in fucking forever.

"I have, but it's been a while," He answers.

"Oh yeah how long? I watched it the other day"

"About 15 years. Give or take"

"It came out 5 years ago..."

"Right right its 2009"

"Wait so you're actually from the future? Holy shit. What's life like?" You jump up and grab his shoulders.

"Technology is definitely better then what you have in this place. I'll tell ya that for free. God your phone is God awful" He jokes, smashing his hand on your face.

"Hey, that's the latest phone! I'm cool!" You shout, grabbing his wrist, trying to pull his hand off your face. He laughs. "I know we just met. But would you be able to show me what 2023 looks like?" You ask, looking into the whites of his mask.

"Uh, i don't know if it transports more then one person. But I could try." He mutters, watching the way your eyes light up.

The night ended with you falling asleep on him halfway through the movie.

LOVE YA!

#x male reader #x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #deadpool imagine #deadpool x reader #deadpool headcanon #deadpool #deadpool x male reader #deadpool x you #Spotify

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aussiepineapple1st · 11 months

Note

Hello, hope you don't mind if I make a request! 😃

What about something like this? I've always loved the idea of Leon being nearly killed by the removal of the plaga. What if reader manages to remove the plagas from Leon but the process is too much for him and leaves him practically dead and reader is horrified and panicking and feeling like she killed him. Just an idea! 💕

I do love this idea as well! Thank you for suggesting it! I was thinking of doing something with the removal of the Plaga eventually.🥰😈

Plaga Removal

Leon x F!Reader

Words: 1,551 Contains: Plaga infected Leon, Ashley and Reader, Angst, Whump, Death?

You break free from the control of Saddler as he's shot from someone above you. Falling to your knees you look up seeing Ada with her SMG.

"GO!" She shouts down to you and Leon. You scramble to your feet, rushing to Leon's side. Yes you had the Plaga in you as well, But you had only recently been infected, your own progression with the parasite wasn't as far as Leon or Ashley.

Leon pulls himself to his feet with your help and the stone table Ashley was laying on. Scooping her into his arms you help keep him on his feet while you exit through a doorway. The way being closed with the help of Ada shooting free a statue that falls, blocking the entrance. Both of you fall to the ground, Leon making sure Ashley's head doesn't hit the ground. You groan as you sit up, everything ached. The veins covering your entire body as you examine your arms. You see Leon roll off Ashley, laying on his back. Neither of them were looking very good.

"Leon?" You crawl to kneel beside him. He was staring up at the ceiling, his vision swimming with water above him, around him stood shadowy figures of people. "Leon! Come back to me!" You say gently placing your hand on his cheek.

Your voice pulls him from the trance, everything flashing back to reality as he sees you leaning over him. He finally looks into your eyes rather than past you, his hand reaching up to touch yours. "I'm here." He assured, his eyes closing as he groans in pain.

"We have to get these things out of us, Now!" You say pulling Leon's arm to sit him up. Pulling Ashley's arms you spin in just a way to bring her to lay on your back. "Hup"ing as you stand you your feet, your hands holding under the young girl's thighs.

"Can you stand?" You ask your partner still sitting on his butt. There was no answer. "Leon!" You call his name once more, giving his boot a tap with your own as you adjust Ashley on your back.

"Y.. Yeah, I can stand." He says rolling to his knees, pulling one leg up and pushes on his knee to stand. He steps back, loosing balance, but you keep him on his feet by planting the top of your head in the centre of his shoulder blades. "I'm good.." He assures now getting his balance.

"Good.." You answer walking towards the a long hallway. Your own vision flashes to this other reality, shaking your head to try and come back. Hearing the sound of a body hitting the floor you turn around seeing Leon laying on his front. You look towards the doors ahead of you then back to Leon. You had to get both of them to the lab, but you couldn't help Leon when you had Ashley on your back. "I'll be back for you. Just... Stay awake!" You say turning and walking as fast as you could towards the double doors.

Unlocking the door with the key Leon had entrusted to you, you push it open, stumbling down the stairs and into the lab. Seeing a chair on the other side of the room you sit Ashley on it, walking to the computer and turning on the machine.

"Where's Leon?" Says a weak voice behind you.

You turn to look at her and give her a fake smile. "He's going to be fine, I will fetch him after we get this thing out of you."

Ashley nods and is moved into position. You look to the doors hoping you could see Leon, but it was too dark, all you saw was a void beyond the doors. "You ready?" You ask as you prepare the computer. Waiting until Ashley nods, you then press the 'Enter' button and she is instantly zapped. The three prongs above her doing their job.

Ashley cries out in pain as you kneel beside her, grabbing her hand that grasps the rod tight. "You've got this! Almost done!" You say looking back as the computer blinks a green Successful. Sighing, you see the black veins star to leave her fair skin, small groans leaving her assures you she is alright. Gently puling her into your body, you manoeuvre the young lady to lay on the ground to the side.

Nodding to yourself you hurry out into the hall where you had left Leon, who had now propped himself up against the wall. Head leant back on the stone he was leaning on, arms by his side as he pants heavily, eyes closed. You kneel beside him and place a hand on his chest. Your own way of asking him to wake up.

"I'm awake.." He huffs out, eyes opening in a wince. "Did it work? Is she okay?" He asks. He heard her shouts of pain but your smile and nod to his question makes him relax.

"Yeah, she's okay. Now it's your turn.." You lift his arm over your shoulder and wait for him to help you pull him to his feet. You hold around his waist and the wrist of his hand slung around your shoulder. "Easy does it." You encourage.

A few steps into the lab and Leon's legs give way. Ashely now on her feet rushes over to the both of you. She lifts his other arm around her shoulders and helps you carry him to the chair.

"Thanks Ash." You say giving her a small nod and a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine. Much better than before. But is Leon going to be okay?" She holds her hands in front of her chest, worried eyes looking over Leon's exhausted, black veined face.

"If you are okay, then he should be too." You assure. Though you were really hoping you could assure yourself, he was in a much worse state than Ashely had been. Whatever Saddler had just done to the both of you really hurt Leon.

You move to the computer and motion for Ashley to stand back before you press the same button as before. The three prongs zapping at Leon's chest. His body arching up as he grits his teeth. Once again you move to hold his hand, Ashley taking his other. Expecting him to writhe in pain until the computer flashed successful, your heart drops when he goes still mid procedure.

Standing to your feet your eyes widen as you look back to the screen, you could still see the Plaga being disintegrated, so why was he not moving? Your eyes start to prick with tears as you look back to Leon, hearing the computer ding you quickly look back to see it read the green 'Successful'.

"Leon?" You panic, standing in front of him, slightly leaning over his body. "Leon!" You call his name once again, your hand resting on his chest. Nothing, you choke out a sob as you brush his fringe from his face. Sweat on his skin causing his hair to stick to his forrid, but you make sure to brush every strand away. "Baby..? Hey, answer me!" You plead as you press your fingers under his jawline. There was a pulse, but it was weak.

You wrap your arms under his and hoist him towards you, pulling his limp body from the chair. You slip and fall to the ground, landing against a cabinet with a loud bang, but you didn't mind. Tears were now falling from your eyes as you hold Leon in your arms, his right hip on the ground as his right cheek rest on your chest. "Leon Please! Stay with me!" You cry out as you turn him to lay on his back between your legs.

You cry as you hold his head in the crook of your arm, your hand resting on his chest as all you wanted was for him to wake up, to let you know he was alright. "Please. I can't do this without you." You sob into the top of his head.

Ashley watched, tears streaming from her own eyes as she sits on her knees at Leon's feet. She thought he was dead. "You should have done him first." She sobbed to you.

Shaking your head you look over to Ashley. "No.. You are more important. This would have happened if he was first or n-" You stop instantly as you feel a hand rest on yours placed on his chest.

You look down to see Leon's eyes open, looking up at you. "Hey.. What's with the tears? You can't get rid of me that easy." He croaked out.

You just stare down at him, your tears flowing even faster now as you hug his head. "I thought I killed you!"

Ashley relaxed and wipes her tears away, a smile now coming to her lips as she watched Leon's arms reach up to comfort you, gently patting your arm and shoulder. "Okay.." He responds. You pull back and wipe your face free of tears, spit and snot as you try calming yourself down.

"Your turn." Leon smiled up at you. You nod and he gently placed a hand on the back of your neck to pull you into a tender kiss.

🏷️: @phoenix666stuff @maehemthemisfit @greywardensaywhat @growingupnrealizing @starcrossedreaders

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wolfjackle-creates · 1 year

Text

I'll Carry Your Heart with Me (Until I find You Again): Part 1

I'll be posting parts 1 and 2 right now. The rest should be up later tonight, but I'm gonna be tied up the next five or six hours.

As you can see, we have a title for this fic! (I may drop the parentheses. Been going back and forth on that.)

Summary: Danny and Jason meet shortly after Jason becomes a ghost in the zone and become good friends. This segment will cover their first two meetings.

Word Count: 2k words

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Jason sat on the island that appeared around him when he landed in this strange place and stared into the swirling green void. It should have been unsettling, but it felt peaceful. If he closed his eyes, it felt like his dad would be right behind him and Alfred was going to call them in for dinner any minute.

But he was surrounded by silence and all alone.

He screamed just to make a noise and turned away from the void. Behind him a punching bag had appeared. Good. With another yell he went to town on it, practicing all the punches and kicks he’d learned at Batman’s side. Gloves formed over his hands, making him realize his clothes had morphed into his Robin costume.

It just made his punches that much harder.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been going at the bag when he realized some of the yells he was hearing weren’t his own.

“And fuck Chaucer!”

Chaucer? What could that be about? But the ridiculousness of it was enough to pull him from his anger. Robin faded as Jason, literary nerd, took his place. No one dissed Chaucer in his hearing. Where was the yelling coming from?

He flew up and looked around before shaking his head. He wasn’t alive anymore and his sight wasn’t his best sense here. Closing his eyes, he sent out his awareness. This close to his island, he could tell whenever anyone was nearby.

And there they were! Close, but not uncomfortably so which was why he hadn’t noticed sooner. Following the feeling, it didn’t take long to find a boy with a backpack on shouting and throwing what looked like green fire at pieces of paper.

“Oi!” he called. “Who’re you to diss Chaucer near my lair?”

“Well maybe if he would just make fucking sense, I wouldn’t have to diss him!” The boy’s hands still glowed green, and Jason fell into a defensive position.

“He does make sense! Not his fault if you’re too dense to know it.” Jason cautiously moved closer, keeping a close eye on the boy’s posture to prepare for an attack. People in this world loved to fight, but while the kid remained wary, he didn’t move to attack. As soon as Jason was close enough, he grabbed one of the papers out of the air.

It felt weird. Both more and less solid that normal paper. Where had this come from? He took his eyes off the boy to skim the paper. It was a page from an exam? Completely covered in red ink. Well-deserved red ink, too.

“Are these your answers?” Jason couldn’t help but look up with a raised eyebrow. “You really don’t understand Chaucer, do you?”

“It’s not my fault I don’t have time to study!” complained the boy. He drew up his knees and covered his face with his no-longer-glowing hands. “I’m so tired and it doesn’t make sense and Lancer doesn’t care.”

“Tired? But we’re dead. We don’t need to sleep. I didn’t even know there was a school for ghosts. Where is it? Is it any good?”

The boy pulled his hands away and looked at him with furrowed brows. “You, you don’t know who I am?”

Jason bristled and stood a little taller. “Should I?” he asked. Maybe he should venture out from his lair more. He just felt so uncomfortable anytime he left that he hadn’t bothered. What if someone came and tried to take it from him and he wasn’t there to protect it?

“No! It’s just… Everyone I’ve met has already learned about me from somewhere.” A ring of light surrounded his waist and passed over his body, leaving a living human in his place. Instinctively, Jason raised his hands again and flared his core in warning, but the boy raised his hands and sent out no-harm, peace pulses. “I’m Danny. The halfa. Half-dead, half-alive. Half-ghost, half-human.”

“How…?” Jason didn’t even know how to finish his sentence and let it trail unfinished. Though, he had seen people come back to life when he was Robin. So, maybe it did make sense.

Danny shrugged. “My parents are scientists studying ghosts. They built a portal to the zone and because I was stupid, it turned on while I was inside. Thousands of volts of electricity and ectoplasm killed and revived me at the same time.”

“That’s why the paper feels weird…” Jason grabbed one of them again and ran his fingers along it. “It’s from Earth.”

“Yep. My latest failed English test. I just don’t have the time to read the books. And when I do, I don’t see the same things Mr. Lancer swears are there! Or I don’t understand them.” Danny sighed and rubbed his face again. “I hate it. I was a straight A student before I died.”

Jason looked between the paper and the boy. “Why has it been so much harder since you died?”

“So many other ghosts are trying to get through the portal to spend time on Earth. And when they do, they hurt people or cause property damage or try and hunt me for sport. I have to stop them. Even if it’s the middle of the night or during class.”

“Oh, you’re a superhero. I was a hero, too, before I died.” He let his Robin uniform replace the civilian clothes and grinned at Danny. “I’m Jason. I’d say nice to meet you, but I can’t like anyone who disses Chaucer.”

“Why do you like him so much?”

“Do you have the book with you?” asked Jason, nodding his head at Danny’s backpack.

Danny shrugged it off and pulled out a book. “Yeah, why?”

“C’mon. I’ll show you.” He turned and headed back to his lair, gesturing for Danny to follow him. On his island was a building, the outside rather plain, like any run down apartment building in Gotham. But the door led directly to Alfred’s kitchen in the manor. He held it open and waved Danny through.

The boy, still in human form, looked around curiously. “You know, no one’s ever let me come to their island before. Or enter their door.”

Jason shrugged. “Well, I need to prove you wrong about Chaucer and no reason we can’t be comfortable as we do. And if I change your mind, then we can be friends!”

“And if you don’t change my mind?”

“I take you outside and we fight it out like proper ghosts.” Jason grinned. “It’ll be fun.”

Danny laughed. “All right, do your best.”

“So, the page I saw was full of questions on the Wife of Bath and her prologue and tale, so we’ll start there. To really understand her, you have to know what women dealt with in the fourteenth century…”

-----

Jason tried not to worry when Danny didn’t come back right away despite promising to return for more English tutoring. Jason also planned to help him figure out how to balance a civilian and hero life. He looked over the lesson plans for both English and martial arts training that he’d made for the hundredth time.

He was going to start with how to safely fall. Just as Dick had taught him back when Bruce first brought him home. Was Dick happy that he had Bruce to himself again now that Jason was gone? Shaking his head to dispel the thoughts, he looked around for something to distract himself. Bread. He could make bread. Alfred taught him how and kneading was excellent stress relief.

He’d just finished kneading and set the dough in a covered bowl to proof when he felt the unmistakable shiver that meant someone was coming close to his haunt. His Robin uniform replaced jeans and a t-shirt as he flew out the kitchen towards the intruder.

Only to laugh and relax when he saw Danny.

“So, the halfa returns! I was starting to think you didn’t like me.” Jason said it with a grin to prove it was a joke, even as something in his core relaxed.

“Sorry, life’s been hectic. Do you know Skulker? He got through the portal again and it took me three days to get him contained. And as soon as I did, Technus was out. And then my parents built a new defense system for the house that I had to dismantle before it could kill me. Again.”

“Woah, woah, wait. What was that last one?”

Danny paused. “Did I not tell you about my parents?”

“Not really. Just that they study ghosts.”

“Hunt, more like. They build ghost weapons to destroy ghosts. It’s why I haven’t told them about me. They’d accept me, I’m sure of it. But… then they talk about how they’d like to rip a ghost molecule-by-molecule and I can’t get the words out.”

Jason let out a low whistle. “And I thought I won the lottery for terrible birth parents. But at least I had Bruce and Alfred. You should contact the Justice League, get help. I can tell you how.”

But Danny just waved a hand in the air. “A year and a half ago, I would’ve jumped at the offer. But I’ve got it under control now. And I don’t want anyone with powers in Amity. What if they get overshadowed? Then I’d be fighting someone with both meta abilities and ghost abilities.”

“Overshadowed?” Jason wasn’t sure he’d heard the term before.

“You know, when you take over a human’s body and control it.”

Jason blinked. “We can do that?”

“You… didn’t know? How long have you been a ghost?”

Jason tried to consider. It was impossible to tell time in the Realms. The area off his island was always the same swirling green with no sun or moon in sight. And he wasn’t sure how long it had taken to gain consciousness after dying. He didn’t think it was immediate. “I’m… not sure. I died December 1st XX. What’s the date on Earth now?”

“So recently? I’ve never met such a young ghost before. Its only been a few weeks. Today’s the twentieth.”

That wasn’t possible. Jason shook his head. “No, that can’t be. I know I’ve been here longer than that. I know how long it takes me to read a book and how many I’ve read.”

“Time in the zone can be a bit wonky.” Danny clasped Jason’s arm. The gesture made him flinch, though he knew it was supposed to be comforting. Danny’s arms fell to his side again. “Sorry.”

Needing to change the subject, Jason asked, “So overshadowing, huh? What else can ghosts do?”

The grin Danny gave him convinced him he had the right idea. “Oh, you have no idea. How about instead of whatever you were going to show me, I teach you to fight like a ghost?”

Jason got an overwhelming feeling of fun-excitement-mischief that weren’t his own and his eyes widened. “Can I sense your emotions? Is that another ghost thing?”

Danny laughed and it was filled with so much enjoyment that Jason couldn’t even be offended. “Dude, you really don’t know anything. We can project emotions to other ghosts. It’s easy. Think something at me.”

Jason bit his lip as he considered what to do. His eyes lit up and he tapped Danny on the nose as he thought hard game-tag-play-fun before flying away as fast as he could.

Danny shouted after him, “You are so not getting away from me!”

As expected, Danny used the game to show him all the cool things ghosts could do. He could shoot energy beams now! Just like Kori! Or, well he would be just like her once he got a bit better at controlling them.

After who knows how long, they ended up lying on their backs on the grass, exhausted from the exertion. Jason wasn’t even sure who was It anymore.

It had been the most fun he'd had in longer than he cared to remember.

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Have all the fluff. I love them so much.

Not much of a tag list yet since this is so new, but I can add more on if you'd like.

@britcision, @echoednonny

#dpxdc #danny fenton #jason todd #dead on main #jason will throw hands if you diss chaucer in his hearing #or he may convert you to a fan #but you will not end the meeting in the same shape you started it in #and now they both have new friends

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moonlitdesertdreams · 2 years

Text

Slumber Party?

A/N: This has no point. None at all besides cuddles and fluff :) Featuring a teensy bit of Bruce POV at the end.

Tags: Jason Todd x f!reader, Jason Todd x you, Jason Todd x Reader, Jason Todd, Red Hood, Bruce Wayne, Batman, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Batfam, Batfamily, DC Imagines, Red Hood x f!reader, Red Hood x you, Red Hood x Reader, The Joker, Death in the Family, Lazarus Pits, Nightwing, Robin, Damian Wayne, Richard Grayson, Dick Grayson, Batfamily fluff

WARNINGS: mentions of grief/loss/depression

Summary: There's no better cure to a hard day than cuddles and ramen noodles.

Word count: 2.6k+

Grief is a funny thing.

Sometimes you feel it acutely, perhaps from the initial loss of someone close to you or ending a relationship. Other times it’s a chronic ache, visiting now and then to remind you of someone or something and drag your day to a halt.

Today, you were feeling the latter.

It’s been over four years since your brother died, and the pain is manageable now. In the beginning it was like losing a piece of yourself- it was losing a piece of yourself. Now, you think about him every day and even laugh at something which reminds you of him when your family gets together. It isn’t painful anymore, and you’ve accepted what’s happened and the fact that no one can change it. Overall, your heart did what hearts do. They heal around the hole left in them, and you push on to the next day.

You hadn’t had a bad day in a long while, and suppose you were due for one. The young brother and sister playing tag down the street were overflowing with youthful innocence, their excited shouts bouncing off concrete sidewalks and ancient brick buildings. When you realized the boy shared a name with your brother though, the pain crept back into the corners of your psyche. It wallowed there before swelling and penetrating the fenced-in part of your heart, tugging at the exposed heartstrings.

Hence, your current position. You shuffle down the grocery store aisle, one Airpod shoved into your ears and hood up while some celebrity podcast rambles to fill the void. A sniffle escapes without proper permission, and you hastily wipe your face with your sleeve. Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink rapidly while tossing a whole case of instant ramen into the cart. If there was anything you wanted to do, it was to sit on the couch with your electric blanket and eat shitty ramen while crying your eyes out.

Of course, nothing could be that easy.

Footsteps approach from behind, and you tense automatically. They’re short strides, and you discern it’s a young person fairly easily. Slowly, you lift the hood from your head and turn, furrowing your brow at the pint-sized person.

“Damian? What are you doing here?”

The youngest Wayne raises one aristocratic brow, wrinkling the smooth olive skin on his forehead. “Shopping, obviously.”

He launches himself up effortlessly, landing inside of your shopping cart. Of fucking course he does, because the big carts you hate pushing were the only ones left, and -oh yeah- he was Batman’s offspring.

“Seriously?” You groan and drop your head to the handle. “Dami, I’m really-”

“Sad? Upset? In need of comfort?”

This time you turn the whole cart around- Damian included- to face the second member of your pity party. Dick Grayson leans casually against the shelves, dressed in dark jeans and a blue sweatshirt, black hair tousled perfectly as per usual.

“God, you too? Can’t even shop without being bothered by your cult.” You bite out, snatching a package of tortillas from the shelf near Dick’s arm.

It was a bit more hostile than you intend, but you’re not in the mood for a Wayne Family intervention at the moment. You’ve had enough since Jason had come back from the dead.

“Hey, we really were just shopping and saw a familiar face. You looked sad, so Damian wanted to check on you.” Dick pushes away from the shelf.

And if that wasn’t the biggest load of shit you’d ever heard.

“Really? You two? Shopping?”

“Alfred is visiting family out of the country.”

You narrow your eyes. “And they entrusted shopping to the two members of the family least likely to step foot in the kitchen?”

“Tt. Nonsense. They entrusted shopping to me, since I am the only one capable of making and fulfilling a list.” Damian glances at his adopted brother. “Grayson is only here because I required a driver.”

“Uh-huh… Well, it’s always nice to see you guys, but I gotta go.” You haul Damian out of the cart by his armpits, eliciting a squawk of protest that almost breaks your eardrum. “Things to do.”

“Like crying by yourself at the store?” Dick presses.

You begin to push the cart away. “Goodbye Dick. Goodbye, Damian.”

----

Back at your apartment, the TV blares a depressing Netflix documentary while you put your ramen in a bowl. While the depression you’d felt at first had ebbed away, being alone was not exactly helping the issue. Now it seems that each TV show or movie you attempt has something to remind you of the pain.

Ramen was the only comforting thing you sought.

While you were praying that Jason would be over soon, you refuse to admit it. Any text to him would cause worry, and the last thing you want is Jason to be in a hurry while doing his nightly business. With your luck, he would channel it into an explosive to take down a city block full of mob members and cause an all-out war. Maybe behead some druglords. Or torture a up-and coming criminal mastermind.

Or something else extreme. You’re not 100% accurate when it comes to predicting Jason’s pit-influenced creative thinking.

You continue on your journey back to the couch, and stoop to plug in your electric blanket. Tinny television speakers ramble on about the mistreatment of killer whales in captivity while you tuck yourself into the couch.

“Seclusion isn’t the ideal treatment for grief, you know.”

You leap up from the couch to face the fire escape window. Darkness is settling over Gotham, but you can see the faint glow of two lenses outside the open window. Damian nudges it open enough to crawl in, changing from a clumsy tumble into a graceful flip faster than you can blink.

“You’re breaking into my apartment now?” You don’t deign to give him a reaction, simply plopping down on the couch. As much as you hate to admit it, the adopted Wayne boys were something of brothers to you. Pushing them away at the store was nothing more than to protect yourself from embarrassment, but you can’t run away now.

“It wasn’t breaking in.” Damian said as he moves to sit beside you on the couch. “Your fire escape is always open.”

You grunt in answer and decide to slurp on ramen instead. Damian flicks his cape boredly and focuses on the TV.

“Are you watching a film about orcas?”

It’s kind of sweet, Damian sitting with you in an attempt to soothe the pain you were feeling. He might be Bruce Wayne’s son, but there’s a flicker of something more in the young man.

“Documentary.” You mumble around a mouthful of noodles. “Think ‘s called Blackfish.”

“Perfect.” Damian declares. “I enjoy educational programs. I will watch it with you.”

Your heart flickers at the statement. So young, yet striving to be the most intelligent creature he can. But if there was one thing you know, it’s that where there’s a Robin, there’s a Batman not far behind.

“Where’s your father?”

Damian huffs and falls back into the couch cushions. “Meeting with Gordon.”

You nod. “I’m sure he’s not thrilled about where you’re at.”

It wasn’t that you and Bruce didn’t like each other. Moreso the fact that he disapproved of Jason’s actions, and you were aligned with Jason. Therefore, you got the same end of the stick as the Red Hood: the shitty side.

“Tt. His petty disagreements with Todd are none of my concern.” He answers haughtily, “Besides, he has no direct quarrel with you. Nor would he, since I am helping you.”

You look away from the whales. “Are you?”

As usual, the sarcasm soars over Damian’s head. “Of course. You’re having a day of mourning, and as I said: it’s unhealthy to be alone.”

You ignore the pang of sadness and smile at him. “You know, Damian, you’re my favorite of the Wayne wards.”

He scoffs in the most menacing way an eleven-year old can. “We both know that’s a lie.”

After a good ruffling of his ornery black locks, you lean back into your side of the couch and collect your rapidly cooling bowl to finish it.

The documentary continues on, and you zone out. Tapping away at Twitter and Instagram draws your attention, and by the time the apartment door opens, you’re dozing off. Your phone has slipped from your grip and the afghan blanket has been tugged across the couch. A warm weight leans into your side, and you decide moving isn’t an option for the foreseeable future.

Somewhere in your subconscious, you recognize the sound of the shower turning on and off. A faint haze of humidity wafts across the apartment, followed by a gentle brush of fingers over your hair.

Eyelashes flutter against your cheeks at the touch, and you observe Jason hovering above you. His hair is shiny and dripping, black tangles with white as it hangs over his eyes. A black t-shirt clings to his damp chest, and sweatpants adorn his lower half.

“Hey, you.” You yawn, leaning your cheek into the kiss Jason lays there.

Awareness bleeds into you, bringing the sensation of another smaller body near you to the forefront of your mind. Much to your surprise Damian is asleep, body slumped against your shoulder and domino mask discarded on the coffee table. You recall his dedication to keep you company earlier in the night, and smile softly.

“Big Bird is on his way to pick up Demon.” Jason opens his mouth to continue, but stops to stare at the window. “Fuckin’ birds. He’s here already.”

Sure enough, the same window Damian crawled through is now occluded by the lithe shape of Nightwing. One dramatic somersault later, he manages to land himself on the couch between you and Damian. The youngest Wayne opens his eyes with a scowl but lets Nightwing toss an arm around his shoulders.

“Hello again.” He chirps, then looks to Jason. “Jaybird.”

“Dickwing. You’re on my couch.” He grits in response.

Dick smiles innocently at his foster brother, leaning a head of wild black locks onto your shoulder. His arms wrap around you in a loose hug. “Not your couch. I am cuddling your girl though.”

The sheer stupidity of their rivalry draws a giggle from your throat. You reach a hand up to Jason’s waist, tugging at his belt loops.

“It’s alright, babe. I love you more than him.” You reassure, “Especially since you don’t stalk me at the grocery store.”

Jason stiffens, even with your playful tone. “You keeping tabs on us now, Wing?”

Dick pulls off his domino to roll his eyes at Jason. “Couldn’t be bothered. Dami and I had to do the shopping ‘cause Alfred’s on vacation. She was the one across town and crying in the cereal aisle.”

You drop your head against the top of Dick’s with a heavy sigh.

Teal eyes bore into you, suddenly filled with concern. “What happened, Bug?”

Swallowing the trepidation the claws into your throat, you look up at Jason.

“I was just having a bad morning. Saw some kids that reminded me of my brother.” You grasp Jason’s hand, rubbing gentle circles onto it. “Damian stopped by tonight so I had company.”

“And now, I’m here! It’s like a family get-together.” Dick hums with excessive enthusiasm. “You should join the party, Jay.”

While Dick Grayson was annoying at his worst, he was a sweetheart at his best. All of the Wayne wards were, in their own way. Him being an advocate for Jason through the toughest times had brought the three of you close- no matter how much Jason would deny it.

“For once, I agree with Dick. You really should join.” You wiggle free from Dick’s hold, reaching your arms up to tug at Jason’s. “If you dont, I’ll be forced to cuddle Damian instead. Or Dick, if I’m desperate.”

Sleepily, Damian pipes up. “I shall not be used as someone’s teddy bear.”

This prompts Dick to let you go and instead rotate to gather Damian in his arms. “Too late baby bird. You’re the best teddy bear.”

“Unhand me at once, Grayson!”

Much to your delight, while the other two argue, Jason relents. And that is how the four of you end up nestled into your old couch, Jason against the armrest pouting. You’re cuddled into his right side with an arm tossed around your shoulders, while Dick sits with his back on the opposite armrest and feet tossed across your lap. You choose a random documentary and press play, letting it drone on over the relentless bickering.

“Touch me with your feet, Dickwing and I’ll break ‘em.”

“Relax, Jaybird. I washed them last week.”

“Yeah? Well I washed my machete when I got home tonight.”

“I oiled my sword the night before last.”

“Remind me why the fuck Bruce has a stick in his ass about a gun but he lets you carry that?”

It’s soothing, you realize, tucked in between three of Gotham’s heroes- or two vigilantes and a crime lord, as it were. Their bickering chases away the bits of grief that still litter your mind, and you relax a little more into Jason’s warm body as the minutes tick by.

-----------------------

Bruce Wayne hasn’t spoken to Bug in over a year.

Not since the day after Jason tried to force him into killing the Joker. Since Bruce threw a batarang at his second son’s throat and the building exploded.

And, in that case, he might have deserved the tongue-lashing. He’d pledged to let Jason and her be- to let them live and enjoy each other as long as the Red Hood stayed in his territory. Bruce had followed that pledge to a tee too, until this morning.

Damian and Dick were nowhere to be found after patrols, and though it wasn’t unusual for them to do their own thing- brotherly bonding, Dick had called it- but it was unusual for them not to check in. Tim was sick tonight, leaving Bruce with an odd sense of melancholy as he traversed the streets. Thus, when four-thirty rolled around, Bruce found himself hopping rooftops to Bug’s apartment.

The fire escape is rickety, stained with red splotches that Bruce doesn’t want to believe are dried blood. It rattles against the building as he turns to the window and kneels to peer through the glass.

Oh.

His heart does a strange sort of leap as he sees two- three- of his boys curled up on the couch. Both outer seats have the footrests extended, and pillows littered the floor. Jason is stretched out on the far side, closest to the door. One hand is tucked behind his head, and the other is wrapped around Bug’s waist where she’s tucked into his side, legs twined with his on the recliner. Dick, unsurprisingly, takes up the most space, head pillowed far opposite from Jason and legs tossed over Bug’s lap. To top it off, Damian has managed to pile himself in the middle, arms wrapped around one of Bug’s and body pressed between Dick’s legs and the back of the couch.

There are three domino masks and a broken red hood mask on the coffee table, though any identifiable costumes are covered by the blankets. Bruce winces at the amount of guns he sees discarded on the kitchen island and the crowbar propped near Jason’s end of the couch.

He gnaws on the idea of sliding the window open, drumming his gloves gently on the glass. Eventually Bruce straightens, taking a deep breath and turning towards the east where dawn is just beginning to break over the ocean. His kids are safe, Gotham is quiet.

And Bruce can deal with that. So he lets his kids sleep a little longer.

As always, if you enjoy please like/reblog and check out my links for more :)

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iovetecchou · 1 year

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bittersweet / ranpo edogawa

prompt... "Don't raise your voice at me."

contains...! angst, breakups, slight comfort, making ranpo cry... sorry...

GN Reader.

1,000 words.

“Ranpo?”

Nothing, not even a glance your way.

“Ranpo!”

Silence once more. The only sound that filled the room was the noises emitting from his handheld game.

“How long are you going to ignore me?”

No semblance that your words were even getting through to him. Ranpo could be so frustrating at times like this. You understood that he was hung up on a case. But, each time he hit a roadblock like this… he would shut down.

You’ve been with him long enough to know what made him tick. The only problem was… your patience was wearing thin. You understood that everyone needs their time and space. But… Ranpo would neglect you and your relationship an immeasurable amount of times.

You were starting to feel like you came in dead last on his list of priorities. How many more times would you be able to put on a mask of contentment? Pretending that his lack of concern for you didn’t affect you in any way?

“You know what, I’m not dealing with this right now. I’ll crash at Yosano’s place tonight.”

Still nothing. As if you were talking to the void. You swallowed a lump that had formed in your throat from holding back your tears. You felt pathetic. Getting emotional from being overlooked like this. But… being disregarded by the one you love most hurt worse than any physical torment you’ve ever been put through.

You hurriedly packed all your belongings that you would need for your overnight stay. Blinking back tears and scoring your bottom lip with your teeth; in an attempt to silence your cries. Ranpo heard your soft weeping. Finally breaking out of his trance.

He turned in your direction from where he sat on the sofa. Taking in your disheveled form as you hastily threw on your coat. Slinging your duffle over one of your shoulders. And making your way to the front door. Ranpo quickly shot up off the couch. Catching up with you before you could slip out the door.

“Wait, y/n. Don’t go.”

Frustration coursed through your whole body. Your back was facing him as your hand clutched the doorknob fiercely. You could feel his presence looming behind you as the unsettling silence sunk in once more tonight.

“Don’t go? It took me almost leaving for you to finally care?”

You hiccuped out. Turning on your heel, finally coming face to face with a seemingly puzzled Ranpo. “What are you saying? I’ve cared this whole time. I was just…”

You scoffed. He couldn’t even give you a proper explanation? “Just… what, Ranpo? Just too invested in that damn video game to give your partner the time of day?” His eyes shot open at your words. Emerald orbs were now boring into your own.

“It’s not like that, and you know it. I just needed some time to think. This case it’s-“

“I don’t want to hear this excuse for the millionth time, Ranpo!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me.”

Ranpo flinched, taking a step away from you. The second your words left your lips, you regretted it. You didn’t mean to explode the way you did. The last thing you wanted was to startle him, no matter how frustrated you were in the moment.

“Ranpo I- I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-.”

You reached out for Ranpo. He tensed for a split second, which you noticed. Your regret was eating away at you. You cautiously reached for his hand. Grasping it within your own before you spoke up once more.

“Ranpo… I’m really sorry for shouting at you, I am. But… I still don’t feel right about all of… this.” His head snapped back up in your direction. Eyes locking with your own. You noticed tears began to pool at Ranpo’s lash line.

“You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?”

His voice was barely audible as the tears spilled freely. Rolling down his reddened cheeks. It hurt you to see him distraught like this because of your actions. But you had to do what was best for you.

You knew things weren’t going to change. You’ve brought up your concerns to Ranpo countless times. Yet nothing ever seemed to alter. Always false hope and empty promises. He wasn’t ready for something committed like this; but you were.

“I’m sorry… but… I think we just need different things at the moment. You may want to be with me, Ranpo… but it's not what's best for either of us right now. I feel like we hold each other back…”

Your words hit deep. Ranpo felt like he had been stabbed through the chest with the way his heart ached. It hurt more than anything because he knew what you were saying was nothing but the truth.

Ranpo knew he struggled to meet your needs and make time for you. He knew it. But that didn’t mean he was ready to let go. He wasn’t ready to lose you. Not now… not like this.

“Please… don’t go… I still love you.”

He grasped onto your hand tightly. Ranpo knew that if he loosened his grip… he would be letting go of you and your relationship for good. You took in a shaky breath, bringing your free hand up to wipe away the onslaught of tears that continued to roll down his face.

“I know… baby, I still love you too. But I have to do this. For both of us.”

With that, you placed a chaste kiss on his lips. For the very last time. Pouring all of the love you had left for him into it. Ranpo sobbed against your lips. His faint whimpers tore your heart in two.

As you pulled away, his grasp on your hand finally loosened. As much as he hated to do so, Ranpo knew he had to let go. You couldn’t bare to see him so distraught any longer. You quickly turned on your heel, swinging the door wide open and leaving without another word.

#ranpo edogawa x reader #ranpo x reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo edogawa #ranpo x you #edogawa ranpo #ranpo angst #bsd imagines #bsd x reader #bsd angst #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs #bsd #edogawa ranpo imagines #ranpo imagines #edogawa ranpo x reader

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inagetawaycarxo · 10 months

Text

Diesel Is Desire ❪ MOB!BOSS!ROMAN ❫

— PAIRINGS: MOB!BOSS!Roman Reigns x F!Reader

— FEATURING: Roman Reigns, Y/n, other wrestlers, Jey Uso, Jimmy Uso.

— SYNOPSIS: Y/n comes back after being away from an injury to find out everything has changed, that he has changed.

— WARNINGS:: Just some angst, because I am in an angst mood and I'm still depressed over a dude who didn't deserve my love/ me catching feelings for him in the first place, typical Roman behaviour, prob crap, errors I missed.

— AUTHORS NOTE: I hope you like it!,

— DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT give consent/permission for my work to be copied and pasted on other platforms. However, I highly encourage feedback, likes, reblogs, and comments.

Roman let out a heavy sigh as he sat next to you. You continued to look at the stars in the sky.

"I hate seeing you hurt," Roman spoke softly. Pressing the ice pack against the bruise on your temple.

"Well maybe you shouldn't put me in a situation where I end up hurt by you," You snapped. Snatching the ice pack from him and getting up.

Roman let out a huff of annoyance.

"That wasn't my fault," He spoke in an angry tone. It only made you let out a scoff.

"No, because nothing ever is, is it?" You snapped.

"Y/n..." Roman sighed, it was a long day, and nearly losing you to an enemy, put a lot of things in perspective.

He didn't want to lose you, but he couldn't replace his wife like that. No matter how hard he tried to move on he couldn't. he did love you though, it just was hard, was all. But seeing you get attacked by his enemy made him realize he could at least try and give it a go, to put a label on it. But you... You had a different idea, that little attack made you realize you weren't important to Roman as you thought you were. You were just another woman to warm his bed. To fill the void of his dead wife, you meant nothing to him.

"I'm done, with whatever this is, I mean you didn't even bother saving me, you let me save myself," You snapped.

"I saved you, don't ever say that I didn't save you," He shouted. Standing up. You looked at him with fury in your eyes. If looks could kill, he would be dead.

"The last minute, but what's new I'm used to saving myself, I'm used to being second best, or not even a choice," You shouted. Tears falling from your eyes.

Roman snorted... Pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Y/n," He huffed out.

"I used to think you didn't want to make us official because I'm the daughter of one of your enemies, but I don't think it's that...I think it's her...it's always her, you're not over her... and you are just using me to fill the void of her death, but it doesn't work," You spoke in a shaky voice.

"Don't talk about her," Roman snapped, getting up in your face. Which made you let out a gasp a bit. His eyes were filled with anger.

Roman was about to speak but you interpreted him.

"I'm done, go find some other bitch to keep your bed warm, to fill the void," You snapped. Roman flinched when he felt your palm hit his cheek hard.

Once you slapped him, you turned around and rushed to the side gate of his backyard. Opening the latch. Pushing the gate open. You quickly took off running, while tears slipped from Roman's eyes.

Tears blurred your vision as you ran down his gated neighbourhood. You didn't care what anyone thought. Breathing heavily. You ran until you couldn't anymore. Collapsing onto the ground. Your dazed state didn't realize someone was following you. You didn't even notice the headlights of a car, nor hear it park. Nor hear footsteps making their way to your sobbing form, until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Oh, y/n... what have you gotten yourself into, come on, let's get you in the car," A familiar voice spoke. Making you stop crying. You avoided eye contact.

They helped you up, putting an arm around you and guiding you to their car. While reassuring you. They opened the passenger door. Helping you get in the car. Putting the seatbelt on for you, before closing the door.

Silent tears fell from your eyes. You quickly wiped your tears away as the driver's door opened, and they got in. Though wiping them only seemed to entice more to fall from your eyes...

I highly encourage feedback, please leave a comment.

#wwe x reader #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x you #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns angst #wwe imagines #wwe imagine #wwe angst #wwe fic #mob!boss roman #wwe #roman reigns

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wackybuddiemewbs · 1 month

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Did anyone say WIP snippets no one asked for? No? Well, here it is anyway...

For context... yeah, it's *that* coma dream from Bones fans will adore and hype, rightfully so, to this day. Because the scenes for my long-ass Bones AU before that are not really done... we're just jumping right into the coma dream following Eddie being taken out by a sniper, following him and Buck investigating Charlie's case.

As for reference: We currently stand at roughly 540k something something words for this fic that's not a fic, not counting notes and ideas. If we count those, too, we're at 581k something something. AKA why, God, whyyyyyy???

The End in the Beginning Part ???

He watches numbly as his body is tossed around like a rag doll, nearly knocking him off his feet.

Blood sprays from his shoulder like the water bombs Buck and Christopher tossed around the yard on a particularly hot day this summer. He can’t hear them giggle, though.

White-hot pain explodes in his shoulder, knocking the air out of him.

Eddie gasps for air to fill his lungs, but it won’t come.

Why can’t he breathe?

He wants to say something, but the words won’t come. Sirens scream in his ears, deafen him. The sunlight above blinds him. The pain ebbs into numbness as he falls to the ground.

Three senses shutting down, two left. Gotta stay awake. Gotta stay…

Eddie can still smell. He can tell that he’s on gravel, out in a street. Gasoline and smoke lie in the air, burned rubber and oil. And blood. He can smell his own blood, metallic. He can also taste it, iodic, cold. And it makes him want to gag.

The world grows hazy, blurry, tilts this way, then the other. For a moment, Eddie believes he is lying on desert sand, but he after blinks once, twice, a third time, he is back on the street, blood pooling underneath him. No sand to absorb it, just the gravel. His life is draining out of him, and he is watching it happen.

But that can’t be, can it?

He promised, after all. To come back home.

Christopher.

He has to come back home to him. He has to…

“Eddie? Eddie!”

Buck? Is he here, too? He can’t be here. It’s too dangerous.

Eddie wants to shout again, back into the blankness from where he can hear Buck’s voice. He wants to tell him to stay away, to stay safe. He can’t get hurt, too. If Eddie can’t get back home, Buck has to. For Christopher. Not just for Christopher, but also for Christopher. To look after him.

And because he needs to be safe. He needs to be safe, please.

“Just hold on! I’m gonna go get you!”

No, stay away! he screams internally, but it’s lost to the void. Stay safe!

“Stay with me, Eddie!”

He wants to, he does. More than anything. Blindly, Eddie reaches to the source of the voice calling him, but the white light mingles with the blackness spreading across his eyes.

Please forgive me, he thinks as all senses shut down. I tried, I did.

The black swallows him whole. He sees nothing, hears nothing, tastes nothing, smells nothing. Whatever it is that he is touching, whatever it might be that is touching him, he can’t feel it anymore. Because it’s over, it’s done.

I’m sorry.

--------------------------

Eddie wakes up with a gasp. He sits up, rubs his eyes, feels faint wetness against his fingertips. Black dots mingle with white ones.

Just like…

Panting, he lets one hand fall down to his shoulder. It doesn’t hurt anymore, and there is no wetness, no blood. His white shirt is crisp and clean, just rumpled from sleep. Because apparently, he is in bed, his bed. At home. It’s dark outside, light cracking through the door that’s left slightly ajar.

There is no gravel digging into his skin. No pool of blood forming underneath him. No sirens blaring. No cold spreading inside him. No searing pain. No one screaming his name as he keeps bleeding out.

It’s just him, sitting in his bed, sweat-soaked. With a heart that can still beat as fast as it does. Because he is alive. Not dead, alive. At home, alive.

So it was just a dream…

Eddie is pulled out of his thoughts when the door opens slowly. It takes him a few moments to recognize the outline of the person entering.

Buck.

He slips inside, careful not to make any noises as he works on the cuffs of his shirt. Buck’s eyes find his in the dark, and a shy smile creeps up his lips.

“Oh, hey. Sorry, did I wake you again?” he asks in a hushed voice, like he’s done that a million times. And Eddie feels like it’s been a million times that he couldn’t help but smile at that. So he does, and Buck smiles back at him, ducking his head.

Eddie frowns, then answers, “No.”

“Oh, good,” Buck sighs, relieved. His eyes drift to the alarm clock next to Eddie on the nightstand.

“You’re late,” Eddie finds himself say, like he knows what time Buck should be here, should be home.

“I know, I know, I promised not to work overtime, but I just had to wrap up the preparations for the new exhibition,” Buck continues, almost pleads. “Bobby said it’d be fine to finish early next morning, but you know how it is with me. Even if I had gone on time, I would have assembled the exhibits in my mind. So no sleep… which means I could have just as well finish now, so I might actually rest.”

Eddie can’t put his finger on it, but there is something about Buck that’s different in a way. He is his awkward, weird self, alright. But he also seems… at ease? Like he doesn’t have to prove anything anymore.

It suits him.

Buck chuckles to himself. “For that we’re dealing exclusively with fossils in our department, you’d think us paleontologists wouldn’t be on such a tight schedule. Yet, here we are.”

“But you got it all set?” Eddie asks, like he knows what that’s about. And it feels familiar, too. In the way that makes his lips curl into a soft smile as he listens to Buck ramble on about something that excites him, which are so many things. It feels like they had this very same conversation a hundred times over. So he probably did, right?

After all, it was just a nightmare, right?

“Duh.” Buck unbuttons his shirt. “Chris is gonna love it for sure. So you know what our plans for the weekend are.”

“Well, so long I don’t have to show him around and pretend to know the names of the dinosaurs, I’m happy to tag along,” Eddie answers automatically.

“I guess that can be arranged,” Buck laughs easily. He takes off the shirt and slips on a loose shirt he picks out of the drawer blindly. Then he slips out of his pants and hangs them over the chair. Eddie watches on, wondering why he wonders about that as much as he does. Because this is an evening like any other. They are at ease. They are at home. They are safe.

Everything is as it ought to be, right?

Smiling, Buck makes his way over to Eddie’s side of the bed and sits down on the edge. The mattress dips under his weight, as though to draw Eddie just one inch closer. And Eddie happily lets himself sink just that inch closer to feel Buck’s warm body radiate heat against his slightly clammy skin, making him feel anything but dead.

“Sorry,” Buck says sheepishly, then leans over and kisses Eddie gently on the lips. “Almost forgot.”

The kiss feels chaste yet intimate. Like it has been practices for many years, and Eddie leans into its familiarity, lets the warm feeling cast out the remains of that nightmare that left him to shiver before.

“Hi,” Buck whispers, grinning against his lips.

“Hi,” Eddie chuckles, leaning his forehead against Buck’s for a moment. They stay like that for a short while, though Eddie wouldn’t mind if eternity felt like that either.

Buck pulls back a bit to look at him, knitting his eyebrows. “You okay?”

He frowns. “Yeah, why?”

“You just have that broody face going on, which normally means there’s something you don’t wanna talk about but maybe should be talking about,” Buck explains. “And I know that you don’t do, unless I ask. So… I ask.”

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes a few times, then he says, “I just had a really weird dream, is all.”

“Weird in the creepy yet exciting way or weird in the… unnerving kind of way that makes you wanna hide under the covers?” Buck wants to know. Eddie doesn’t miss how he unconsciously starts to sweep his thumb up and down along Eddie’s forearm.

“It was just… odd. I got shot in the streets. You were there, too, I think you were, and… I think a sniper took me down. But… it didn’t feel like me, you know? Like it was some other version of me getting shot, one that got it handed to him pretty badly,” Eddie ponders.

It felt so real, though…

“Well, getting shot by a sniper doesn’t sound pleasant, that’s for sure,” Buck says sympathetically.

“Not really.”

“Though thankfully, statistically speaking, it’s very unlikely for a man installing security systems in buildings to get shot in the streets by a sniper,” Buck tells him with a small grin.

Eddie smirks. “That’s still Security Management Specialist for you.”

“Sorry, sorry. You did a wonderful job at the Jeffersonian, specially managing all our security,” Buck laughs, then slips his hand over the back of Eddie’s. He lets his finger rest against a metal band there that Eddie didn’t even feel as foreign until now. “You made me a very proud husband once all was installed. Like, yeah, my man did that.”

Buck pecks him on the cheek, tangling his arms around Eddie’s shoulder loosely. “Sorry you had a bad dream, though.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Eddie assures him, though honestly, he assures himself foremost. Eddie buries his head against Buck’s clavicle, soaking up even more of the warmth Buck radiates, the comfort he offers by just being there. “At least I got up for you to distract me. You always make me forget all that crap in an instant.”

“Do I?” Buck whispers, almost sings it like a lullaby.

“Always.”

They pull apart to chase each other’s lips, not desperately, but with more need than before. To assure each other that they are indeed there. That they can hold each other that close. That they have each other.

And it seems to work like a charm. Eddie can’t hear the sirens anymore. He only hears the rustling of the sheets and Buck’s shallow intakes of air whenever their lips part. He doesn’t taste blood on his tongue. He tastes spearmint from the gum Buck must have chewed on the ride back, he sometimes does that when he’s tired and needs to stay awake. He doesn’t smell gravel and smoke. He smells the last remains of Buck’s cologne. He tastes and smells and feels Buck. And in that small world, everything makes perfect sense. Kissing Buck and holding him close, that’s all it takes for his world to make sense.

Stay with me…

Once they break up the kiss, Eddie nudges his nose against the side of Buck’s, resting his face more against Buck’s, leaning into the comfort he provides by just being there, by staying without Eddie having to ask for it.

“I missed you,” Eddie breathes.

Buck chuckles at that. “I wasn’t gone that long, c’mon.”

“In my dream, I missed you. I couldn’t… I heard you, but I couldn’t see you. I couldn’t… get to you,” Eddie mumbles.

“I’m here now.”

And Eddie can hear it, the unspoken “I’m staying”. He takes another deep breath, takes it all in.

“What do you need?” Buck asks.

“Just you,” Eddie replies simply.

Because it is that simple. He needs Buck, and Buck is here.

What more do I need?

Buck’s fingers run soothing circles around the back of his neck and head. They stay like that for a while. Because there is no need for a rush. They aren’t just stealing moments, glances. They have them, they can create them. They are theirs to claim.

“Feeling better?” Buck whispers after a while.

“Very much,” Eddie confirms. “Just your kind of magic.”

Buck groans, leaning his head back. “Eddie, magic doesn’t exist, you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He laughs.

“So… Want some more distraction?” Buck asks, teasing.

Eddie grins against his cheek. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Not enough not to want this,” Buck replies, letting his hand slide down Eddie’s side, making him shudder. “Never enough to not want you.”

Eddie lets himself ease back down on the bed, pulling Buck with him so that he is halfway sprawled across his chest. “If that’s the case… Then yeah, distract me.”

“That can be arranged,” Buck laughs, pecking one of Eddie’s scars briefly.

“I love you, you know?” Eddie mutters, feeling like he can’t say it often enough, like he probably hasn’t said it enough.

Because things can happen… people get shot in bright daylight…

“Well, that’s convenient. Coz I love you, too,” Buck snickers, his entire face lighting up, even in the dark. “And I’m about to show you just how much I love you.”

Eddie laughs as he turns them both over, leaving him on top. For a moment, he just lingers there, traces the faint outlines of Buck in the dark with his eyes. He slips one hand against Buck’s palm, finds the metal band there and runs his fingertips across it, maybe for good luck, he isn’t sure. But he never takes his eyes off of Buck, searches him in the dark and finds him there, waiting, staying. And once he does, he leans in and kisses him in all earnest. Not for the last time tonight, it’d seem.

It was really just a dream, then.

Thank God I woke up, then.

#buddie #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #evan buckley x eddie diaz #eddie diaz x evan buckley #buddie au #fanfic #fanfiction #in smol #I still have a lot of (conflicted) feelings about this fic #all the more because it controls almost all of my “creative” mental space

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hmshermitcraft · 11 months

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For the weekly theme - hurt/comfort!!!

This is inspired by @definitelynotshouting 's HungerAU (which you can check out for additional context)! Fair warning, said AU is a Dead Dove; I didn't manage to finish reading the fic they are writing for this AU, but I still love the concept they created!

This ask is just... me borrowing part of the lore from the AU and changing it a bit to suit my less angsty idea, and to give Grian a hopeful ending in the story (not a happy one, per se, that might be stepping on Shout's toes too much, but there is hope for the better)

The main difference is that it's Grian's 1st time meeting the Hermits, but all Players still know how Watchers can prey on them

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Ever since Grian remembered, he's been stuck in the endless planes of The Void. There used to be a time, way before he became a Watcher, when he was just a normal Player, able to build, to create, to feel the sun on his face. But those times are long gone and long forgotten, along with the memory of the humanity Grian lost when he was used as a base for creating this... monster he had became.

Lurking in The Void like a shark cruising the water, he remained hidden most of the time. He refused to live how his kin did - infiltrating servers, hovering above Players, amplifying their emotions till the humans were ripe from the picking, and then... killing them, hurting them, watching them slip into insanity, as their haywire emotions sustained yet another Watcher.

But it was difficult to resist the hunger gnawing on his insides. Grian wasn't as strong as he'd like to be, not strong enough to hide away and finally let himself die. He should have killed himself long ago, he mused. Nowadays it was just an endless cycle - hiding away, biding his time as he stared into nothingness, and then blacking out as the hunger overtook him. He never remembered much from those times, but after a while he would wake up, in a server he didn't recall breaking into, the bodies of Players disappearing into white puffs of smoke, presumably to respawn.

But he never waited to check if that was true. Disgusted with himself, Grian always ran. Feeling sick with what he had done, with how full he felt, he always rushed through the veil between the server and The Void like the coward he was. Emotions might not have been physical food he could expel from his body, but that didn't stop him from dropping to his knees and retching, bile rising into his throat, burning.

Fighting his will to live was a battle he kept on losing, not having the courage to finally take his life, ridding the world of himself and letting his code unravel, seeping back into The Void where he couldn't respawn. He wished he could just end this, finally being able to keep Players safe from himself. The scars on his body being a testament to how many times he tried, yet always flinched from the final blow.

Grian didn't quite care about his own fate. Yes, every breath he took was painful, every waking second of enduring the effects of denying his body sustenance was a nightmare, but... he deserved it. He was a monster, he should be miserable, he should suffer. Every tear he shed at his own fate was pointless, a cry for help he was not worthy of.

Grian shuddered, the filthy sweater hanging from his bony frame doing nothing to stop the chill from seeping into his heart. The Void was neither hot or cold, so the shudder was entirely caused by his weakened muscles spasming yet again. He was so hungry again, ages having passed since he last fed.

But there was one thing keeping him from blanking out again, one thing that occupied every single sluggish thought that passed through his head.

Time was an odd thing, here in the realm of endless nothingness, but for a while Grian's been feeling ripples on The Void's surface. They were all coming from a particularly bright spark of light on the dark tapestry surrounding him. Such a bright flash suggested a big server, one used frequently and by many Players. The ripples were... odd, to say the least. Grian's tired brain barely manged to recognise them. It was... a Voidwalker Player, gently poking and probing at the dark nothing, as if searching for something. What could they be looking for in here, Grian wondered idly. Voidwalkers were so rare, but it would make sense for one to be on such a big server.

Grian's mind flickered in and out of consciousness. He didn't have the strength to keep his eyes open, not anymore. But... this was the closest he ever felt to being at peace. As always, he hoped he wouldn't wake up this time, wouldn't end up in some unknown server, standing in a circle of items dropped by dying Players.

After a while, Grian felt a pull of something on his mind. He forced himself to became conscious again, to expand his Gaze past his little bubble of The Void.

Oh. The pull that Grian felt was the familiar code of the Voidwalker slowly easing into The Void. But... he was leading other Players after him as well? That was odd. Such trips to The Void were incredibly dangerous, it must have been important for them to partake in. Grian didn't have the energy to think too deeply about that, choosing instead to curl in on himself more tightly and to allow his mind to slip away again.

But his moment of peace didn't last too long. The ripples and distruptions pressed into the fabric of The Void got closer and more prominent with each passing moment. Was the party heading towards him?

Suddenly, everything seemed to click, the haze lifting from Grian's mind for a brief moment. The Players from that powerful server must have been notified about him, must have heard that a stray Watcher was lurking around and attacking nearby servers. They must be on a mission to remove this threat, to finally put an end to Grian's pathetic existence.

That thought was oddly comforting to him. There it is, his chance to finally stop the cycle of pain he caused and experienced. He flopped back onto the floor again, not having the strength to stay in a sitting position, now that he knew what was coming for him. His salvationn the end to everything...

But... No! No! He couldn't let them get close to him! He was so close to blacking out and hurting people again! He had to move away from them, he had to! Panic surged through Grian's veins, fuelling him in a last-ditch effort to avoid the hunting party approaching him.

Yet... when trying to lift his wings in attempt to get up, he felt that he was unable to move past the sitting position he was in previously. There was a cage around him, bearing the Voidwalker's characteristical code particles weaved through it.

In a way, the pressure of the cage was a comfort for Grian. Now he didn't have to try anymoren he was completely at the mercy of the hunting party, his fate was in their hands. It's not the end he imagined for himself, but it was oddly fitting, he suposed. Players taking revenge on him, punishing him for hurting them so. He only hoped his one life was enough to atone for what he's been doing all his life.

As his consciousness faded again, he heard voices getting closer to him. He was too weak to decipher what they were saying, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Now, he was able to rest for real, that was enough to put his frazzled mind at ease

...

When he woke up again, it took a lot of time for Grian to grasp his surroundings. He was not supposed to wake up, that's the first thing that puzzled him. The second thing, was his surroundings. The room he was in was washed in golden rays of sun, and the bed he was situated in was an explosion of soft, colorful blankets and pillows. After so long spent into The Void, those things were difficult to comprehend.

The thing that registered last, was that he was not hungry anymore. This revelation would push Grian into a flight response, but there was another sensation pushing at his mind, calming him down. There was a faint pressure at the back of his head, blocking the usual way in which he could reach out and feed. He tired to sense emotions around him, yet he couldn't do that.

As he was looking around the room, trying to make sense of all the new sensations, Grian noticed a piece of paper on a bedside table, resting innocently next to a pitcher of water. As he reached towards it, he had no idea that this little note was about to change his life forever.

...

Hello!

You must be terribly confused right now, which we all apologise for. The way that we brought you here was far from ideal, unfortunately. We definitely would prefer for you to be conscious when we found you, but we really couldn't wait any longer with transporting you here.

What you have to know for now, is that this server specialises in hosting dangerous and odd Hybrids, and making sure they can exist in peace, without hurting anyone. We have a lot of technology and magic at our disposal, and we already know how to help you.

You are safe here, we will not hurt you, and you are unable to hurt anyone as well.

We will explain everything to you shortly, we regularly check on you to see when you're awake, so someone will bring you into the main room soon.

Welcome to Hermitcraft!

~Xisuma (the Admin) and all other Hermits

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

🌠anon

Grian doesn't know how to react to the note. He reads it multiple times. There must be some mistake, right? Maybe they don't realise what he is. Or, maybe they were looking for a different person? Does Grian even count as a person, really?

True to the note, a player comes to find him barely a few minutes later. It's not the Voidwalker, even with this dampening he'd recognise that energy. No, instead it's a creeper hybrid, with a cybernetic arm Grian thinks he could stare at forever.

He nods at Grian, introducing himself as Doc. He doesn't even give Grian a chance to talk before he launches into a spiel. Half of the explanations go straight over Grian's head, somebody about suppression, saturation commands, feeding in healthier ways in the future. If there's anything Grian does take away, it's that it all sounds too good to be true.

He follows Doc to the next room silently, hugging his chest. There's a lot more people hanging around. A few turn to look at him - some more subtle than others. He can't tell what all of them are, but the Voidwalker stands out immediately. He rushes across the room to introduce himself, followed by scolding Doc for not asking Grian's name.

Grian can only follow Xisuma around in awe as he introduces various hermits. Grian finally manages to ask if this is actually right. Is this a mistake? Xisuma seems confused at the idea - they'd been planning this for ages! The idea of being wrong is literally impossible, they went over the operation far too many times for that.

Grian's... Not used to that. Being wanted.

This is going to be a lot for him to get used to.

#hermitshipping #ask #grian tag #docm77 tag #xisuma tag #polyhermits #death tw #kidnapping tw #🌠 anon #mod 🎀#weekly theme: hurt/comfort

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