#did he actually go AWOL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avocado-writing · 5 months

Text

home

pairing: 14th doctor x reader & 10th doctor x reader

rating: E

notes: no gender or age given for reader, just that you last saw the doctor fifteen years ago. thank you to @mcganns for being my beta!!

This too shall pass.

It was a sentiment that you had to cling onto when he left, because fuck knows it was the most painful thing you’d ever felt. And you’d run away from actual explosions before. Big ones, in space! Supernovas which could eat entire planets while you hung onto the side of a little blue box.

And yet none of it even begins to compare to when he fucking left you.

He said it wouldn’t be forever. Well, he shouted it at you as you fell out of the TARDIS. There was a time explosion, and you got rocketed back to your little flat in the middle of Hackney, on Earth only a few days from when he’d picked you up — but in your reality months of adventure had passed.

You’d not really settled back in, certain that he was going to come and rescue you. But then days turned into weeks into months and you finally accepted that the Doctor had abandoned you.

So you went back to it all. Your mundane little existence before a mad, brilliant man had whisked you away. Your boss was a bit miffed that you’d gone AWOL but you were their best employee so they couldn’t afford to let you go, all you got was a slap on the wrist and a command not to let it happen again. The people you loved didn’t really seem to notice your absence that much, which stung; you couldn’t blame them though. You’d probably not miss you much either.

The Doctor. He made you feel special in a way nobody had before. Like you were the centre of a whole, giant, fantastic universe, and he adored you for it.

Still.

No point mulling that over again, is there?

Fifteen years. Things did get better. You moved on eventually. But you still find your thoughts drifting back to him every once in a while, and that fragment of time you spent totally utterly in love with each other. When you think about the way he kissed you, without realising it you end up touching your lips.

No. No. Stop.

The singing of the kettle snaps you back into reality, and you pour yourself a hot cuppa. Ah, tea. The antidote to everything. You go to turn the radio on for some company as you shift into your morning routine when you hear a knock at the door.

Probably the postie. He’s a bit early today, you think, but make no more of it as you undo the latch and open the door.

Your heart stops.

Because there he is, of course.

Older. Weathered. Not the young man you once knew but a grownup version of him, as exhausted by life as you are.

You drop your mug. Quick as a flash the Doctor grabs it out of midair. The tea sloshes onto the floor but at least nothing gets shattered.

He goes to look up at you, but his attention is drawn back to his hand.

“I bought you this mug years ago,” he says, utterly amazed.

You shut the door in his face.

Well, you try to, anyway. But he sticks a foot in between the door and the frame, with one of those stupid Converse he always wears.

“I know you’re angry, I know. But please let me come in.”

It’s such an absurd statement you find yourself laughing, a high and desperate noise.

“Absolutely not!” Actually, no. That’s not enough. “How dare you. Why are you even here?!”

“Because I wanted— I needed to see you.”

You still want to slam the door on him, but there’s a desperation to his voice that gives you pause. And when he looks at you with those sad, puppy-dog eyes? Those eyes as lined with age as you are?

Fuck. You’re so weak.

So that’s how you find the Doctor sitting at your kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of him. You lean against the counter, defences still up, eyeing him from over the top of your mug. He drums his fingers against the tablecloth.

“I like your house. Your calendar is nice, I enjoy the kitten motif.”

“Don’t,” you spit, slamming the mug down and sloshing tea onto the floor, “don’t you dare. You don’t get to waltz back here and start telling me ‘oh, I enjoy your furnishings, haven’t you made a nice little life for yourself since I abandoned you!’ I let you in to speak your piece, though god knows why. Say it and be done.”

The Doctor looks deflated. His shoulders sag, mouth falls. You take a moment to properly look at him. He seems… tired. Tired in a way you never knew him to be when you went on your adventures. Part of you wants to offer comfort, but the other part of you wants to withhold it maliciously. Anything to make him feel the way you felt.

“I looked for you,” is what he settles on, heavily. You didn’t expect that, and it knocks you.

“What?”

“I did. After the explosion, I tried searching all over the galaxy for you. I didn’t know where - when - you’d ended up. I scanned and scanned but something stopped you from appearing on the TARDIS’s sensors. I think… the amount of artron energy emitted during the blast somehow cloaked you.”

You say nothing, your silence an invitation for him to continue his explanation.

“It took years. Literal years, for me. Every spare moment I had, I dedicated to looking for you. Head buried in the circuitry of the TARDIS, trying to fix whatever was hiding you, gave myself a couple of nasty shocks too. And, when I finally tracked you down, I’d regenerated.”

You blink. Right. Yes. He’d explained that, but you’d never seen it with your own eyes. The same person, a different face.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to see me if I didn’t look like me. But I had to try anyway, didn’t I? So I came here. To your house. I got myself all ready for it, knocked on your door… and found that you were married.”

Your fingers grip the counter.

“Oh.”

“He seemed nice. Loved you a lot, as you deserved. And I couldn’t tell you I was back, could I? I saw you pottering around in the kitchen, making the tea - you were always the best at making tea - and you were happy. How could I ask you to leave that all, uproot the life you’d made for yourself, just to jump back in the TARDIS with me? How could I be so cruel? I couldn’t, could I. So I left again. Tried to move on. Like you did.”

You’re crying now. You can feel hot tears slide down your face and soak into your jumper.

“Oh, Doctor,” you manage. You want to tell him so much. It feels like it might burst out of you. But instead you settle on:

“Why now?”

He smiles thinly.

“Because somehow I got this face back, and I wanted to see you. I wanted to be selfish for once.”

You find yourself at the table, on the wonky chair opposite him, sliding your hand over to cover his. It’s rough and warm. Just like you remember. He says your name with reverence, but like it pains him.

“I never stopped loving you. Ever. Through it all, every adventure, I knew it wasn’t complete because you weren’t there. It just wasn’t the same without wonderful, brilliant you,” he admits. He sounds defeated. It breaks your heart — or, actually, it might just put it back together again.

A beat passes. His confession lingers in the air, heavy, thick and choking like smoke from an untameable fire.

“His name was Simon. He was a baker. He was lovely, actually… and we got divorced two years ago.”

The Doctor’s brow furrows.

“You… what… why?”

“Because he knew there was someone else I never really let go of. Someone else who, despite everything, I still loved.”

He looks you in the eyes, and you see something glimmer there that you long since gave up on.

Hope.

And then, suddenly, you’re kissing.

It’s like nothing has changed. His lips are still rough and searching on yours, a hint of tongue giving away into more the deeper you entangle. He sits you up on the table and steps into the space left by your spread legs, and between each kiss he says your name. It’s full of adoration but lined with desperation, too.

Like the kisses he gave you the first night you laid together, on a bed in his spaceship floating across the galaxy. When he buried himself inside you and you felt his two hearts beat in rhythm with your own.

“Doctor…” you manage.

Fuck. You need him. You didn’t realise how badly you needed him. You didn’t realise a piece of your soul has been missing this whole time, fucking torn out of you and leaving a jagged hole in its wake. And him, back, telling you he loves you and always has? You’re patched together like kintsugi.

Your Doctor is the molten gold you need.

“Please. I need to…” he’s so desperate he can barely get the words out, but you nod; he’s undoing the belt buckle of your jeans and pulling them off like they’re silk. When his thin waist meets yours you cross your ankles behind him and lock him into place, and his hands - a little fumbling, a little nervous to be mapping out the plain of you again - begin to trace your chest. You lean into his touch to let him know yes. This is okay. I want this. Make me whole again.

His warm, rough palms slide under the hem of your shirt and lift it easily over your head, the only break in a while you take from your kiss. You let yourself grab his tie to bring him closer. He’s fully dressed still and you’re almost naked; you remember how he used to like that, enjoy feeling a bit more put together than you. Cheeky blighter. Still though, as his suit scratches your skin, you can’t say you don’t agree.

However. In this instance he has far too many clothes.

You tug at his jacket and he knows what you need, letting it fall to the floor with his tie and waistcoat following it. He ruts against you as he unbuttons his shirt a bit, not the whole way, but just enough for you to feel the warmth of his chest. He’s so skinny. You’ve always been a bit worried that, on one of your rougher days, you might snap him in half. You still are now, actually.

Cupping his face in your hands you let your thumbs caress his cheekbones. Your Doctor. Older but the same. Just like you.

You can feel him more than half-hard against your leg. No more time wasting. You need him. You need him, you need him, you need him.

It doesn’t take long to undo his fly and have him in your hand. You’ll always be glad he chose this human anatomy. Though you’d love him no matter how he looks, there’s something wonderful about his cock as it is here. He lets his head fall forward onto your shoulder with a moan if your name.

“Oh… you’re…”

“Mmm hmm,” you agree, a genuine smile passing your face for the first time in god knows how long. He’s just the right length and on the thick side, and you know what a delicious stretch he is when he pushes inside of you. You can’t wait to feel it again. A couple of pumps and he’s ready, dripping precome and a ruddy red. Another time you’d bend down and taste him, remind yourself what a Time Lord’s cock is like. But now today. Well, not now.

You lay back, readjusting yourself so he can push your underwear to the side and find your entrance. A couple of fingers - those long, delicate, clever and cunning fingers - press inside you and test you out. You’re ready for him. He makes a choked noise in the back of his throat as he realises and you laugh, properly, throwing your head back.

“Come on, Doctor. Show me that you’ve missed me.”

He used to never shut up. And now he’s stunned into a desperate silence, lining up with you and pushing in as he does his best to make you feel what he’s been feeling too.

A loneliness is fixed. He slides home inside you and your hips meet, the both of you letting out a long and ragged breath. You sit there for a moment, locked in the most intimate embrace, and just feel each other. You fist your hands in his shirt. He’s here. He’s real. You feel him trace his palm up your back as if you assure himself of the same thing.

Slowly he begins to move. It is a long and lovely drag, his cock hitting all the points you missed being touched, and when he feels you gasp he goes harder. The Doctor nuzzles into the skin of your neck, nestling to the warmth of you there, and you hear him repeat a mantra both of your name and “I love you”.

Over and over. As if the two phrases are inextricably linked.

You’re so full. You’re so light. Everything feels perfect in this moment. And when he reaches between your bodies to touch your sex, push you to the edge, you know you’ll climax for him embarrassingly fast.

When you come you see stars light up behind your eyes. The sky, the unfiltered and untamed sky takes you over. The Doctor says your name one final fine and releases inside you, his hips riding it out as if to savour every second in the sweet grip of you.

He can’t look at your face when he asks you. He says it from the safety of your shoulder where his face is buried, because if you say no you know his heart will shatter.

“Come with me, in the TARDIS again. I know I shouldn’t ask you to leave your home but… you complete me, you know. Always have.”

“Leave my home?! Doctor, don’t be daft. This is just a house in bloody Hackney. You’re my home.”

You pull back to meet his gaze. He’s tired, but bright. His eyes twinkle. And there’s the Doctor you know.

“And of course,” you continue. And, as the smile engulfs his face and he lights up, “it’s not like I’m doing anything else, am I?”

This time, when you go AWOL from your job, you never come back.

#The doctor x reader #Doctor who x reader #the doctor x you #david tennant x reader #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #14th doctor x reader #fourteenth doctor x reader #my writing #full disclosure only seen the star beast so far lol

854 notes · View notes

katanashipping · 2 months

Text

Seriously though, the general canon of TMNT 2k3 must be such a wild ride for Robin O'Neill.

Like. Here is your big sister, brainiac maniac science superstar, the smart one, the one who has it all figured out and who probably has three PhDs by the time she's 23 and the story begins. April just landed her Dream Job with an actual Celebrity Scientist and she is going to create Big Science that will Help Lots of People and--

--and she's quit her job one month in and announces she is going to reopen your late parents' antiquities shop now. Take some time to Find Herself, whatever that means. OK, right, we can work with that, what bout--

--her shop burns to the ground, and April prompty goes completely AWOL for three months. Great! Amazing! You're not panicking at all! This is April you're talking about, after all - the smart one, the good one, who has it all together, and she is dating Casey Jones, neighborhood vigilante now.

HOW DID THEY EVEN MEET.

So you're like. OK. I should probably go to New York and look into that. Meanwhile April rebuilds the antique shop brick by brick and moves back in, things get serious with Casey Jones, she keeps offhandedly mentioning a bunch of Italian men that like, fix her boiler and stuff, she's fine. She's fine. You don't think she's fine.

Before you can do anything about it, she goes AWOL for a few months again.

You eventually find out she has been hanging out with her boyfriend's country mum at a derelict farm. Cleaning. Cooking, sort of thing. Maybe you're a bit concerned now. Just a bit. You decide you will definitely visit her soon. She excitedly mentions that she has started practising kendo using a real sword, and her teacher is this old guy who gives her lessons one on one. You move your visit forward.

So you go to New York. You enter her apartment, which is the one you grew up in, rebuilt eerily similarly to how you remember it. Your sister is happy to see you. She's just going to nip out for a minute to grab some milk. That's fine. You go through the list of things to talk to her about in your head one more time: how are you? how are you Really? let's do some girly things, without the boyfriend and the teacher and the Italian men. Just us girls. Won't that be nice?

April comes back upstairs. You'll never guess who she ran into on her way to the shops!

Behind her stands your beloved uncle Augie, who went missing fifteen years ago without a trace.

Like. Holy. Shit.

That same evening, as you're trying to work out the new sleeping arrangements now there's three of you in the flat for the night, you pull uncle Augie aside for a moment. You're worried about April, you say. Something has been going on with her, and it's weird.

Uncle Augie looks at you for a long moment. His clothing is ripped, his beard is a growth on his face. There are deep lines on his face that you don't remember, marked not by smiles and laughter, but by sadness and fear. His arms are tree trunks. He smells like he hasn't showered in a month.

Nah, he says. I think April's doing just fine.

#tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #robin o'neil #april o'neil #SHE'S FINE OKAY.#DONT WORRY ABOUT IT.#and then Robin just never shows up again. she doesn't even come to the wedding.#but it's FINE. I'm sure it's JUST FINE.

248 notes · View notes

falconfeather23435 · 24 days

Text

YALL WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT

YES THIS IS ABOUT THE BAD BATCH

NO TECH AS CLONE X REVEAL? TECH ACTUALLY DIED IN SEASON 2? WE WERE BAITED? HEMLOCK DEAD, NALA SE DEAD, RAMPART DEAD, SCORCH DEAD, ADULT OMEGA FLYING FOR THE REBELLION, OLD MAN HUNTER, CROSSHAIR GETTING HIS SHAKY HAND CHOPPED OFF, I’M ILL

WHERE DID LAMA SU GO? WHAT HAPPENED TO ECHO, WHY WAS HE NOT ON PABU AT THE END? OMEGA ONLY MENTIONED WRECKER & CROSSHAIR, WHY DIDN’T SHE MENTION ECHO? DID THEY ACTUALLY HAVE A CLONE REBELLION? WHEN DID WOLFFE DECIDE TO GO AWOL & WHEN DID REX FINALLY DECIDE ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH & PUT DOWN HIS BLASTER & PULLED UP THE AWNING ON HIS AT-TE?? WHAT HAPPENED TO HOWZER, WHERE DID HE GO? WHERE DID CODY GO? DOES OMEGA VISIT HERA DURING THE REBELLION? DOES HERA REMEMBER HER? DID THE FORCE-SENSITIVE KIDS MAKE IT BACK HOME? DOES PHEE STILL VIBE ON PABU? DOES CID EVER REPENT FOR WHAT SHE DID? DO THEY EVER GET IN TOUCH WITH HER, DO THEY EVER FORGIVE HER? WHERE IS LULA? I AM GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE PLEASE I NEED CLOSURE ON MY BURNING QUESTIONS

I miss them already

167 notes · View notes

vengeful-horde-of-angry-ghosts · 8 months

Text

I think something to keep in mind regarding Kiriona and John's relationship, especially regarding the content of Kiriona and Ianthe's argument at the tomb, is what happens when they first meet. Yes, Gideon has a parent now! He's God! He gave her a new name connecting her to their culture and a commission in the cohort and made her his heir! Maybe he really is trying (when he's not drunkenly fucking his way through the cohort).

But the first time she meets him (during the Jerry Springer portion of the book), she sees the fight with Mercymorn and Augustine where he admits to lying about the cavaliers having to die. (As a cavalier who died, I think it would be totally reasonable for her to take this one personally.)

More importantly, she's angry with him for hurting Harrow. She straight up tells him, "Go to hell, Pops."

She watches Ianthe save him and says, "She got one choice, and not only did she blow it, but she blew it in such a huge fucking spectacular way that you would’ve been impressed had you not hated her for it."

Next sentence she calls John "the guy who had lied to everyone about everything."

Not a great first impression.

So back to Kiriona. She seems loyal enough. She plays the part. But she goes awol to get to New Rho first chance she gets (I don't believe for a second that John actually sent her there, especially considering there was no way to know they'd end up on the ninth. It has to be about Harrow, which Ianthe even asks.). She seems to me to be angry and defensive when she talks about what John has done to her body, her eyes "hard and dead and bright, like something that had been dug up" when previously they had been compared to Nona's eyes.

I feel like her loyalty to John isn't as secure as most people seem to think it is. If Harrow was disappointed by him as God while he still had his shit together, how disappointed must Gideon be to finally have a parent and it's John in his breakdown stage? Even Ianthe is disappointed by him.

I'm reminded of this exchange with Harrow in GtN:

“I need you to trust me.”

“I need you to be trustworthy.”

Given everything she's seen him do, I cannot imagine her finding John trustworthy. I can't imagine that a few months of playing happy families has changed that.

#only she's allowed to beat up Harrow #only she's allowed to save Harrow #i maintain that while she does have some familial feelings for John #her loyalty to Harrow supercedes everything #tlt #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #kiriona gaia #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #gideon my beloved #kiriona my beloved #angry ghost thoughts

423 notes · View notes

matrixbearer2024 · 3 months

Note

Tiny Vox part 2?

Idk if you'll use this but I just want to give it to you.

I kind of headcannon tiny vox the be dumber, because the unprepared small body can't load all his data very well. So I imagine Vox, being stupidly in love, trying the help them when they are doing the dishes or working on their hobby bit he is just making more of a mess and smiling dumbly in love. Like when reader likes to draw heb grabs a random coloured pencil and bring it to them. You know just adorable but unhelpful.

Pocket-sized Partner: VoxPet™️ Care Guide

Tiny!Vox x Reader

A/N: So uhhh- here's a teeny little Headcanon thing while I write the continuation for the VoxPet series because I love smol TV guy. That and I'm starting to slightly feel the burnout, well- I can't tell if that's the right term since I'm starting to look at my ideas and realize that they're starting to lack the coherence and polish they used to. ANYWAY! Here's a Headcanon list for the small guy before I post the continuation for it- so I hope you guys enjoy! Happy reading!

So given Vox's mostly bionic/mechanical biology, it makes sense that he doesn't necessarily regenerate the same as other more organic(flesh-based) sinners.

Instead, he has spare bodies to upload his consciousness and switch into if the one he's using gets damaged and needs repairs or is just not worth saving.

Hence he has a couple spares lying around.

It's just in this instance, the only spare he had left was in a less than desirable condition-

And the others were still broken or just beyond repair.

Having a his brain be it's own practical digital entity also plays into this, I'd think in his paranoia he'd have copies of his own data stored in cloud servers all over the pride ring too.

So it won't be easy should someone try to get rid of him.

Anyway, back to the body switching.

So this new body Vox took is a very underpowered and overutilized little thing.

Imagine running a Skyrim with over a thousand mods on the highest graphics using a 7 year old dell laptop.

Yeah. That's what Vox is currently doing.

The small body is already running at full capacity with his overload of data and it's not even all of it.

Just the basic necessities like his personality and habits.

Like, what make Vox- vox.

Everything else like his schedules, alarms, work, etc.

They're just uploaded to a cloud server with the rest of his complete data.

Oh I forgot to mention, in his haste to make this tiny cute form-

He totally forgot to give it the ability to form even basic speech patterns.

Hence the squeaking and beeping.

He actually can't talk, not that the small body would even have any more processing room if he did do that.

Vox merely figured that you'd probably find some enjoyment anyway in his predicament until the new spare parts arrived and he didn't want to keep moving around dripping coolant and blood accompanied by some sparking wires.

Let's not even mention the cracked screen.

His face being messed up was probably the least of his issues there too.

So you kind of had to take care of him as that small little guy in that hastily put together body.

Also, because it's so underpowered and practically at it's peak use-

Vox can't actually really use his powers much.

Which he didn't realize only until after he flipped out when Velvette and Valentino found him when the staff were panicking from him suddenly going AWOL.

In this tiny body, he only has his generally human memorization skills to recall important things.

Not his flawless computer memory, which was lumped in with the data this body couldn't hold.

He did thank his lucky stars that you weren't so upset about the state he was in though.

You'd often flip the hell out when he got hurt or just had blatant disregard for his own wellbeing.

I mean, when you can switch bodies like the socks on your feet would you be careful too?

I wouldn't, I'd try every single way to die just out of sheer curiosity and boredom-

Anyway, after you got over the initial shock of seeing your boyfriend all plushie sized and everything-

You better bet he got fucking spoiled.

Literally like a chihuahua in a purse moment.

Y'all know those build a bear clothes and accessories?

Yeah no you'd dress Vox up and down in those tiny things and he just couldn't stop you.

He could figure out how to delete all the photos you'd taken when he got back to normal.

But if being treated like a doll was all it took for you to just drown him in kisses and hugs-

You better bet this man would go ahead and pull something like this again.

Plus the compulsion to just aggressively cuddle the life out of him-

Well he's already dead but the point stands.

He can't help but soak up your affection like a thirsty sponge though.

You do eventually realize that he actually has to be plugged in to recharge though.

Plugged in by a port on the back of his teeny head.

What, where did you think he'd put it?

You're glad that Vox tends to leave all sorts of cords of different lengths around your apartment.

Something to do with his work?

You had half a brain to tie him up with those said cords sometimes-

It was irritating at first but after you organized them to keep, at least you didn't dispose of them since you needed them now-

For once the hardware spaghetti was actually useful.

And thank goodness for the long wire, because he'd become extremely clingy after all the attention and affection you'd given him.

Tiny dude was sitting on your lap being pet and coddled while charging.

All while you were reading a book.

Yep. He was a spoiled little shit.

You also realized that he didn't need to eat because of the charging thing-

But he could if he wanted to.

As proven when Vox just took a small part of your meal and slowly ate it.

It wasn't even a full bite for you but it looked comically big in his tiny hands.

He installed a proper digestive system but not a text to speech thing.

Sometimes you wondered if your boyfriend's priorities were a little more wayside that you originally took them for.

He was so cute trying to help you with the dishes though.

Couldn't really do much because of how small he was-

Not to mention the fact you didn't even want to risk any more damage to him since electronics and water are generally not a good mix-

But he tried, and you'd count him being adorable as helpful emotional support anyway.

Even if he really didn't do anything aside from play with the bubbles and smile cutely at you.

If he didn't have an empire and corporation to run you might actually just keep him like this-

Even when you were looking over at some documents his secretary sent over to sign-

You guessed it was because Vel mentioned that Vox was in your care for the time being.

He was wobbling around holding a pen that was probably half his size.

Again cute as hell, but an unhelpful distraction-

Now when you went to sleep?

You plugged Vox in again and just cuddled him against your chest.

The same thing happens when he "sleeps" whether big or in this form anyway.

Screen dims and then his company logo screensaver pops up.

Anyway, I say sleep in quotations because Vox doesn't actually sleep in the conventional sense.

It's just one of the many ways he can physically recharge.

So if he does sleep it's often by choice or because he just passes out.

If he wanted to keep going physically, Vox could just directly connect himself into a power outlet and not ever run out of juice.

Mentally though- it's why he actually needs our version of sleep.

Or periods of system shutdown where he can actually mentally recuperate.

Otherwise he'd be a cracked out delirious mf hyped up on caffeine.

Which he is sometimes regardless.

Either way, you'd pet and cuddle him until he fell asleep before you would also succumb to slumber.

When you woke up though, he somehow ended up cuddling your face.

You had no idea when that even happened.

He greeted you with a happy beep and a heart on his tiny face when you woke up though.

It was probably selfish as hell but now you really wanted to keep him like this just a little longer-

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x you #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader

204 notes · View notes

callsignmarz · 4 months

Text

‼️MDNI‼️ - Keegan P. Russ x Y/N | Fem

“Claim Me.”

"Just grow a pair and go talk to him." Keegan insisted, slamming the door to a humvee, clearly checked out from the conversation.

"That's not how nature works, Keegan." You riposted, turning your attention back to Logan, who was currently across the motor pool, chatting to a few other soldiers.

It was no secret that you had a little crush on Logan Walker.

Whenever he was in the area, you felt like a teenager again with her first school crush. Just the sight of him made your cheeks flush a light shade of pink and your knees ready to buckle. And If Keegan had to sit and listen to how fine of a man Logan was one more time, he swore to himself that he will end it all, right then and there.

"Besides, I'd rather just...you know, let things...happen..? Yeah. Let's just go with that."

Keegan raises an eyebrow, shaking his head, unconvinced by your sad attempted claim.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Keegan makes his way over to the mobile toolbox that you've been leaning on for the past half hour — instead of helping him like he asked you in the first place.

Sensing you needed a little help in the love department, out of the kindness of his cold grinch heart, he gives you some words of advice.

"Standing on the sidelines isn't going to get you far, y/n. A man likes it when a woman takes charge. It's hot as fuck, actually." Keegan galled, giving you a friendly wink. He obnoxiously clicks a pen that he had tucked behind his ear and retrieves the clipboard next to your elbow, scribbling down the required maintenance notes.

He had a point though.

But you would never admit that, especially with how vulgar he put it.

So, you just roll your eyes in protest. "Is that so? Then tell me this. Since when did you become such a 'Love Guru?' Last time I checked, you still had trouble finding yourself a girlfriend." You implored the 'notorious' ladies man.

He hands you the clipboard and you promptly grab ahold of it. You watch him lift up the hood of the truck with one arm as if it weighed nothing.

Why did anything he did always had to be so..?

"That's where you're wrong, Sweetheart. I'm not looking for a girlfriend. Just looking for a good time." He chuckles dryly.

"You're vile." Your face contorts in disgust, but he just shrugs off your jab.

"I've been called worst, Sweetheart."

The sound of a boot scuffling against the gravel, pulls your attention away for a moment and your heart flutters when you realize Logan was standing a few feet beside you.

Okay. Act normal, Y/N...what the fuck is normal!?

"What's up, kid?" Keegan greets cooly, snapping you out of your head.

Tearing himself away from the vehicle, Keegan and Logan clasps their hands together, briefly pulling each other in, bumping shoulders before releasing one another.

"Let me guess, causing trouble?" Keegan quipped as he folded his arms across his chest.

Logan gives a friendly smile, his voice came out a smooth baritone, "Always." He flicks his gaze to you, with eyes now wide and mouth agape with incredulity.

"Who's your friend, Russ?" Logan asks as he gives you a once-over look, intrigued and wondering why he hasn't seen you before.

"This is y/n. She more of a thorn in my ass than a friend." Keegan half-jokingly introduces while giving you a look that says 'Now's your chance.'

Clearing your throat of all the cobwebs that formed within the few minutes, you extend your right hand as you give him a quick run down, "Sergeant Y/N L/N, PCS'd from Fort Wainwright about a month or two ago." Logan listens intently, taking ahold your hand with a firm grip and a surge electricity to shoots through your body.

"Pleasure to meet you, Sarge. Alaska must've been one hell of an experience." He mused with his dark caramel eyes locked in on yours. Slowly, Logan lets go of your hand, but purposely allows his touch to linger.

"I'm surprised you didn't go AWOL." He chorkles.

Slightly shrugging your shoulder and batting your lashes, you pick up on his subtle cues.

"There were days where I was tempted to, but I'm pretty good at being on the straight and narrow." You say coy-like with a smile that matched your tone.

"Good, good. But, hey! I actually have to get going, but uh...You should stop by later tonight and we can finish up this conversation. What do you say?" Logan asks with a quizzical smile, his teeth were pearly white and straight, just the way you like them.

Your mouth gaps open slightly, surprised by how fast everything was moving. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you weren't in a dream but the look from Keegan was an obvious indication this was no dream. Far from, actually.

"Uh, y-yeah. I don't mind." You finally answered.

"Cool...See you then, y/n."

With that, Logan walks off with your eyes following him until he's no longer in sight. You then whip around, almost tripping over your own feet, turning to Keegan and exploding with screeches of excitement.

"Did that actually happen!?" You squeal, rushing over to vigorously shake Keegan's shoulder.

Swatting your hands away, Keegan keeps his eyes forward as he tick in his jaw serves as a seedling of jealously that grew and bloomed a vibrant sprig of green.

"Yes. Now can I get back to work?" He sneers in frustration, retreating his focus back to the engine of the truck.

⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆

As painful as it was to your ego, you take Keegan's advice and with newfound determination eddied in your irises, you come up with an idea.

A man likes when a girl takes charge.

Keegan's voice resounds in your head. The heedful reminder causes your eyes to roll into the back of the your skull. Then your attention shifts back to your reflection. Surveying your outfit one last time as you twist and pose your body in the mirror making sure you were up to par.

Adjusting your black crop top so it flattered your boobs and the ripped up mom-jeans you wore were loose but they hugged you curves just enough to accentuate the roundness of your ass.

And underneath...a matching set of magenta laced lingerie.

There was no way you were not getting laid.

It was a quarter until midnight. The plan was you were going to sneak into Logan's room undetected and surprise him in his bed.

As crazy as it sounds — it was foolproof.

Like, what man wouldn't dream of a woman, as feral as you were, crawling into their bed in the middle of the night?

Right?

After applying the last layer of your clear lemon flavored lipgloss, you roll your plumped lips together followed by a loud suckered pop and you set out on your mission, making a swift exit out the door.

Approaching his quarters, you had to move quickly and quietly. You discreetly reach into your bra and redeemed a simple black bobby-pin.

Good ole reliable.

Throughout the years you've served in the military, you were taught a lot of different things. Tactical insertion being one of them. You knew how to breach any area. From battering rams to hacking security systems but, none that required something so mundane as a hair accessory.

While you expertly pick the lock, you kept your head on a swivel, making sure no one spots you committing this heinous act.

Once you hear the audible click, the corners of your mouth lifted into a confident smile.

Getting up to your feet, you casually make entry.

First thing you noticed was the overpowering smell of cedar wood. Coughing up a lung, you came to the conclusion that the air quality in here was 99.9 percent cologne and that last .1 being oxygen.

Getting past that, it was also rather dark.

Carefully waving your hand around, you try your best not to crash into anything. Eventually, you find yourself bumping into his bedpost, startling Logan out of his sleep and the same familiar baritone voice calls out in surprise, "What the fu—Y/n?"

"Wait! Shh...Just listen, please!" You say right away, hoping it'll calm him down.

"I know this is a bit crazy but just...listen. Okay? I've had a crush on you for a while now and I don't want to blend in with the other girls. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is," You swallow hard, your tone drops to barely a whisper, rolling your lips together as you crawled your way into his bed.

"Just let it happen."

In the dark, your lips find his, silencing any doubt or apprehension from leaving his mouth. A bolt of electricity shoots throughout your body, awakening the longing desire within you.

Not only was he surprised by your assertiveness but it came as a shock to you as well. Being an introvert, you wouldn't have guessed in a million years that you would've be the one to make the first move — all thanks to Keegan.

Logan's lips end up prying your lips apart, deepening the kiss with his tongue, ravishingly exploring your mouth and eliciting soft moans to muffle out as your mouth moves in sync with his.

His rough hands snake their way to your waist before hauling you over onto of him.

Your breath hitches when he breaks away from the kiss and his nose creeps up alongside your throat. Once he finds the most sensitive spot, his mouth latches onto your skin, nipping and sucking until little plum colored splotches decorate your neck.

The two of you wasted no time tearing the clothes off each other. The lingerie you wore for show, unfortunately went unnoticed as it was discarded just like the rest of your wardrobe.

You felt a firm grip on your left breast, before you were greeted by the warmth of his mouth. Not only did Logan have a pretty smile, but he knew what to do with it as his tongue swirled and his teeth gently gnawed on your erect nipple.

A symphony of orchestral moans filled the room.

The sexual connection and burning passion between you two was undeniable.

It was as if this moment was supposed to happen.

As if the two of you were meant to come together and become one.

A dream verging to come true.

Digging your nails into his back, you align him up against you seeping cunt, slowly slipping his swollen cock inside. A small whine of pleasure leaves your lips as you allow your slick walls to accommodate and adjust to his size.

"Ride me, beautiful." He rasped, his tone dripping with ascendancy and urgency.

Like flipping a switch, your back arches, rolling your hips and taking your time descending down only to spring back up when you couldn't fit any more of him.

His size was impeccable.

Your ex wasn't even close to the size and length that Logan held and from the one night stands you've had in the past, they could barely last two whole minutes.

You were in for one hell of a joy ride.

Logan's hand creeps its way from your navel, up and between your breasts to wrap around your throat accordingly.

Taking back control, he bucks his hips, crashing them underneath your thighs, barbarously driving himself deeper into your tight pussy. With your hands on his chest, you prop yourself to hover your ass over him as he kept his unwavering assault.

"Yes, yes, yes! God fuckin—Please don't stop." You whine breathlessly.

"Does the princess want to cum all over my cock?Mmm...such a needy little whore, you are..." He growls, his tone edging you closer to unraveling.

Your body felt as though God sent an angel down just to solemnly fulfill your sinful needs, relieving you of your last unholy act, right before your soul ascends to the heaven's gates.

Delirium intoxicates and overwhelms your senses, clenching your silky walls around his otherworldly cock, urging him to spill his load inside.

"Keep it coming and drown my cock. Fuck...I'm about to cum...Say my name, baby." He grits through his teeth, his thrust becoming more erratic by the second.

As your moans grow louder, your body quivers, riding the wave of your own insatiable orgasm.

"Oh God, Yes! Logan!" You screamed his name.

Your lips collided with his own as he lets out a deep groan. The heat of his load erupts and pulsated deep inside of you, filling you up to the brim. You slide off of him, allowing the contents to pour out of you. The two of you pant and gasp for air, coming down from the euphoric high of your releases while your bodies entangled together.

If you had to be honest, he was more than good, probably the best sex you've ever had.

Silence fills the void with the lingering scent of sex in the air.

Without saying a word, Logan sits up, detangling from your arms and walks out of the room then returns with a towel in hand.

Your eyes strain trying to make out his features as an unsettling tension builds between you two.

"Lo—" You say faintly, making an effort to comfort him.

However he sharply cuts you off, "Lemme stop you right there." His tone dripping with grimness.

Your face twists, utterly confused, watching his dark silhouette walk over to a drawer, pulling out a pair of sweats to slip in.

"I was bound to break it to you one way or another." He says sardonically, scuffling his way across the room, flicking on the light and blurring your vision temporarily until it steadily returns to adjust to your surroundings.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Sweetheart. But unfortunately I'm not your knight and shining armor." He says with a disdained sniff.

Your mouth flops open, struggling to form any sentence, but ultimately one phrase rolls off your tongue.

"What the fuck..."

The .1 percent of oxygen left in the air was sucked out the room completely, leaving you to suffocate on the distressed revelation.

The love story you'd hope for came crashing down hard. Once again, he was right about one thing...

He was no Prince Charming.

He was Keegan motherfucking Russ..

#call of duty fanfic #call of duty #call of duty imagine #keegan p russ #cod mw2 #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #cod keegan #keegan russ smut #keegan russ x you #keegan cod #mw2 imagine #fanfic #Spotify

135 notes · View notes

kbagraces · 3 months

Text

Flip A Switch - Lando Norris

Lando Norris Mafia AU

As much as we try to suppress the stigma, strong women will continue to be perceived as intimidating until you learn to love us.

PART 1 - Unnecessary Violence

Women are small. They should act naive, innocent and weak. That's what you were told. That's what i was still told. Mother said it's the most attractive thing a girl can be. My brother said it's the safest thing a girl can be. Daddy said it is the most stupid thing that i could be. 'Be strong', daddy said and to that i would reply with what my mother and brother had instilled into me. Anger would rise up, "You're a bright girl y/n, but you trust too easily. That'll do you no good if you follow in my footsteps."

I wanted to follow in his footsteps, i really did, but i was stuck in the contrasting beliefs of society and my father's expectations. I wanted to do him proud, he after all risked his life everyday to keep our family safe. But i was just a girl, what could i have done?

Daddy never got a real funeral, that's just the way it was for us kind of people. I think of him everyday, but no one dares to utter his name which leaves my mind to be his only place of rest. After he passed, my mother went awol, i haven't seen her in months. My brother is now mad with power, thinking that he can drag daddy's organisation from the pits it collapsed into. He is wrong. Daddy always said Keegan didn't have the ability to work in such a treacherous environment, but of course he never listened.

"Keegan, daddy wouldn't have wanted this. This is so far from how he'd organise things" I exclaimed, chasing after him down the halls of our family home. It was supposed to be an 'event' of sorts to celebrate my fathers life, too little too late i thought, Keegan never celebrated his life when he was actually alive. I was certain this was an attempt at gloating to his so called peers about his ever so important role, despite it being quite the contrary, he is only making things worse, which is literally impossible, but somehow not for Keegan.

"Just because you were dad's favourite does not mean that you know how to run this company, y/n. You're still a little girl. You know nothing. I learnt it all the day Dad bailed on us. Stop acting like he was a Saint, because, if you actually knew anything about how to run this, you would know he was far from it."

I wanted to fight back, but causing a seen was wrong, unnecessary and exactly what he wanted, and you would see me dead before I followed another mans orders, related or not.

The halls were starting to burst with people. The luxurious fabric of suits and gowns brushing against my bare arms as a turned from my brother and stormed away from his ignorance.

The corners of my mouth slightly turned upwards as i caught glimpses of those that i knew but not enough to allow them to want to stop for a conversation. The amount of people i didn't know however most certainly outweighed those that i did and that was how my brother worked. Quantity, not quality. All ego, no class, clarifying to me that this is in no way what my father would've wanted and is unfortunately all down to my brothers stupidity and selfishness.

The mafia is a dangerous place. Being the daughter of a previously feared leader does underpin you with some stereotypes. I, however, wasn't as conformist as the other girls that i knew. I wouldn't let the sleazy sons of other organisations tempt me into going against my family for a below average shag in the back of a stolen car. I'd like to think i had a little more class. As i looked disgustingly at the girls who were doing just that the mingling started as the sound of erratic jazz music drowned out the painfully boring conversations of controversy. Not even a week earlier most individuals were likely to have been literally at war.

I glanced across the room, my mothers 'friends' dotted around, judgemental scowls plastered across their faces. There we certainly some unusual and dangerous occurrences unfolding in front of me.

The jazz music cut off abruptly as my brother clambered on stage a few feeble looking goons following him in a pathetic attempt in looking intimidating, my hand instantly raising in humiliation.

"Well, that's embarrassing." the presence beside me uttered into my ear. My eyes raising in the attempt to recognise who the husky voice came from. Empty eyes were starring into mine, looking as disappointed as i was at my brothers underwhelming speech that he's spluttering out. I hummed in agreement turning back to the mess unfolding in front of me.

"I'm Lando."

Lando.

I recognised his face, flashes of my fathers profiles flickered through my mind as i tried to put name and face to his crime. He once worked here, but was found to be a rat.

"Norris?" Rat.

His eyebrow raised along with the slight quiver of the corner of his lip. "Impressive, you really are your fathers daughter. Perhaps it should be you that is up there." He nodded towards the stage.

An unsettling feeling rushed through my body, pushing his shoulder i questioned, "what do you think you're doing here? Do you not have an inch of respect?"

"I-"

He was cut off as Keegan pinned me as the next victim of his embarrassing 'speech' if you could even label it that. "And there she is." His eyes dark, filled with hatred. "The attention seeker of the family. The reason that dad died. The reason that i was neglected as a child. My father never appreciated me, i was the one destined for this life. I worked so hard to make him proud but princess y/n/n always stole the limelight. Which is why, you're out sis." He spat.

I felt empty, shocked. Out?

A hand wrapped around my bicep dragging me through the crowds of people. My senses finally kicked in after i was out of the hall.

I shook off the grip, "get off me!" I yelled. One of brothers goons looking into my eyes. "Out." He stated, nodding his head towards the entrance of my home. I tilted my head in shock.

"No. Fuck you. This is my fucking house. Who do you think you are?" My arm swung for his face, knuckles connecting to his cheek with unexpected force, after the shock had escaped him he grabbed my arms, pinning me to the wall my face pressing onto the cool surface. I felt the barrel of a gun press into my skull. Fuck. "You just find it so easy to fuck things up don't you. Keegan didn't say kill you, but i do fancy seeing your brains splattered against this wall."

"Why because you think it'll make Keegan love you a little bit more. Aw so cute-," i heard the gun being cocked and then suddenly all of the pressure he held against me fled my body, bang.

Swinging round, I was expecting pain to hit my body, nothing came. There he was lying on the floor, Lando standing above him, gun in hand starring at the victim on the floor. Silence filled the corridor and the hall that i was just forced out of. "Out. Now." he glared at me, his eyes flickering to the entrance doors behind me.

We began walking towards the doors before the guest in hall, looked out in curiosity to see a dead boy on the floor, blood pouring from his head. "I didn't need your help." I demanded as we excited what was once my home.

A snort left his nose, "you know, some how i don't think that is true and you're welcome by the way." We reached his car, to which he nodded his head to.

"You're joking, right? You really are mad if you think i'm going anywhere with you, whether you saved my life or not, i do not want to be around you.", now it was my turn to laugh.

"So you admit that i saved your life?" I rolled my eyes and began to walk down the road.

"They'll be after you. We can help you." he shouted down the road.

"See you around, Norris." I yelled back. No way in Hell am giving him what he wants, at least not right away.

***

Keegan hadn't tried to find me, but opposing gangs had and although i can certainly fight my own in a 'normal' situation, when fifteen groups of ruthless and revenge hungry men are after you it becomes hard to leave your house.

"You could just give Norris a bell." Mandi suggested. Sitting in her box room which in fact had been my bedroom for the last two weeks. She was my only friend and the only one who knew everything about me. But things such as what she just stated shows how she can still be so out of touch.

"No."

"Y/n. Think about it. Your life is at risk and as much as your dad hated the McLarens*, he would've hated you dying more." She attempted to reason, and she was right,. "And who gives a damn about your brother, do you not want to help McLaren in taking him down? He literally tried to kill you!" she exclaimed.

Rolling my eyes, "well no he didn't, just one of his goons."

"You trust too easily. Please just think about it, gorgeous. You're the strongest person i know but right now, you can not fight this battle alone." She sighed getting up from my bed, "love you, goodnight."

"Night Mands."

I don't need your help, but I think we can come to a mutual deal.

-y/n

Y/n, I knew you'd come round. Are you currently busy?

Yes i'm going to bed. I'll discuss terms tomorrow. Night.

————

Masterlist

A/N

*im using the car names as gang names as I'm just that uncreative!

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 #Lando Norris mafia au #f1 mafia au

101 notes · View notes

the-cat-and-the-birdie · 3 months

Text

Disclaimer: This isn't actually a disclaimer I just wanted to start this by saying Jessica Drew is mother. She gave birth to me. That's my mom. Anyways.

----------/////-----------

Friendly reminder:

Jessica helps Gwen at the end of ATSV.

At the end of the movie, we see Gwen leave to go get Peter.

She's leaving Miles apartment, and goes up to the roof to open the portal so his parents don't see.

Jess sees this happening.

And she absolutely knows it's Gwen, for two reasons.

1) Gwen is one of the only people who knows Miles' exact address - so it's either her or Peter.

2) Hobies portals look distinctly different from Miguel's. The visuals mimic Hobies universe, which Jess would recognize.

Considering Gwen is one of the people he's closest to - not Peter - Jess can probably guess that's Gwen up there.

This gives Jess SO MUCH information.

Now we know that Jess not only knows that Gwen is alright and not in her universe, but is now the ONLY enemy that knows of Hobie's ability to recreate watches.

She now knows that Hobie has his own technology and that him and Gwen are working together.

And knowing Hobie, those is obviously a premeditated idea.

He made the watches after all. If Gwen has one, Hobie absolutely has one of is own, and if he can make two, why wouldn't be make three, or five, or a dozen.

This one thing tips her off to a much bigger operation than Miguel is completely 100% unaware of. That's huge!!

But as far as we seeee, she doesn't call it in. She lets Gwen go.

And that's the last we see if anyone in The Society. After that, Gwen recruits Peter - while Miles G. confronts Miles.

There's no scene of Miguel being enraged at the fact Hobie has basically bested him in every way imaginable, because I think he doesn't even know about Hobie's watches, not yet.

Because Jess didn't rat to him.

That's perfectly in line with her behavior. Jess NEVER told on Gwen. She doesn't even threaten to send her home (but people misconstrue her words and assume she did - I'll write on that one day. Maybe.).

Jess doesn't tell Miguel she sent Gwen to Mumbattan, he only finds out when Miles disrupts a canon event and the Spot opens a huge hole there.

Even in the scene where Miguel is yelling at Gwen and Miles, he's yelling about Miles worrying about Spot and Gwen letting him get away.

If you ask me, looks Jess changed sides already, all by herself. She didn't NEED a teenager to come to her house and invite her like SOME PEOPLE (*cough* Peter *cough*)

But what do you think?

I wanted to add the third in one specifically because I think Jess is in a particularly interesting place.

We can see she has sympathy for Gwen, and she has a HUGE opportunity to help her out.

Peter is now on the outside, but Jess is still directly with Miguel - and in still in his good graces. Now that she knows what she knows, she could massively throw Miguel off Gwen's trail.

I don't think she'd actively entirely sabotage Miguel. Jess knows better - but she does have a huge possibly of nudging Miguel in a different direction if she thinks he's getting too close to Gwen's location, or finding out about Hobie's watches.

Anything from calling false alarms on Miles' wearabouts at the 'worst' time, to - if Miguel begins to suspect Hobie's plan - acting as if it's ridiculous and impossible.

In her position she can either do this, or choose to go completely AWOL, seeking to find Gwen herself or outright leaving the Society.

But I wanna hear y'all thoughts cause !!!!

People be sleeping on my mama!!!!!!! She about to do BIG THANGS!!!!!!!!!!

I LOVE JESSICA DREW!!!!!!!!!! YOU'LL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS!!!!!

#i don't put 'idk or results options 😐 we all saw the movie 😭😭'#spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #gwen stacy #spider gwen #spidergwen #ghost spider #ghostspider #spiderwoman #spider woman

90 notes · View notes

tragedyslut · 21 days

Text

♡ born to die ♡

✶ [ a.anderson ] ✶

♡ ABBY!ANDERSON X PLATONIC!FEM!READER ♡

🩷 SUMMARY — abby after the whole boat thing w ellie , returns to the wlf, needing comfort and just being so vulnerable. whole buncha angst. intentional lowercase, no proofreading 🪽

when abby returned with lev to the island where the wlf were regrouping, people were rightfully hesitant to let her back. i mean, her going AWOL to find Owen and then turning on the WLF because of two kids she met the day before didn't make her the most trustworthy. a few of the soldiers, including you, agreed to let her and lev stay until they were properly taken care of. abby showing up like that broke your heart into a million pieces. her hair, cut like that, all of her muscles gone from malnourishment and her face. the pure look of desperation when she showed up in that boat.

you and abby had been 'friends' for years. even when she and owen got together you could still tell she had eyes for you. you two split apart when she left to go find him, and you hadn't really seen each other properly in ages. once she was conscious enough to explain what happened whilst you two had been seperated, and explained in detail what actually happened and why she killed joel. you had known for a while she killed some guy, well, you hadn't known until some girl came and started killing everyone associated with abby. that 'some girl' was apparently ellie. the whole thing being explained to you was a bit of a mush. it was so messy. it sunk in how lucky you were to have gotten seperated from abby before everything happened. otherwise ellie would've probably came after you, knowing you two were associated.

Abby explained how exactly ellie let her go, and that was that.

she was in the medbay for a long while. youd visit her every so often. as the months past and her hair grew longer again, she would insist on cutting it off again. you assumed it was due to the torture she experienced with the rattlers. but either way, her hair stuck that way. she wouldn't let it go past a short bob. it didn't look bad, but it was different.. she was different. but after all, everyone was different.

one night, you were on guard duty. you were walking down the medbay when you heard someone sobbing. fully like.. painful sobs. you ducked into the medbay, thinking someone was hurt. you saw abby curled up in the assigned bed she had, sobbing her eyes out. her iv was basically being ripped out of her arm from how much she was curled up. you dropped your rifle, and bag, going over to her.

" abby, abby- are you okay? are you hurt? " you said, getting her to sit up and adjusting her iv so it wasn't so messed up. she only sniffed in response, trying desperately to wipe her tears.

" abby, its fine, just let it out. everythings okay. "

as soon as you said that, abby lunged at you. you thought she was gonna kick you or something but she hugged you. extremely tight.

" im so fucking guilty. " she mumbled.

" guilty about what? go on, explain it. just talk it out. " you said, rubbing circles on her back.

" i spent so fucking long.. trying to kill joel.. and- i did. but it didn't made me feel better. he only killed my dad- to save ellie. my fucking dad would've done the same. and ellie- she fucking let me go.. she let me live. i bit one of her fucking fingers off and everything and she just.. let me go. i didn't deserve that. she should've put me down. " she whispered out. you could practically feel the seering guilt radiating of of her.

" you deserve to be able to move on. nobody was right in that situation. you aren't some monster for wanting justice for your dad. "

" 'm not? " she mumbled, chuckling.

" no. me, anyone, would've done the same. especially in this world. "

you sat and comforted her for hours. it was everything she needed.

" why did you stay..? after- after all that happened. after knowing how shitty of a person i am? "

" because. you're my friend. of course im gonna look after you. after we got seperated i hoped for ages that we'd find eachother, and we did. i don't care what happened. im gonna be there for you. you're safe with me, with the wlf. ill convince them to let you back. i promise. "

in the end, you kept your promise and the wlf let her stay. she was officially a wlf soldier again. in some ways, she was the same, in other ways, things were forever different.

#Spotify #ellie tlou #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #ellie tlou smut #ellie williams smut #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson #abby angst #sub abby #abby smut #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader

44 notes · View notes

forestshadow-wolf · 10 months

Text

Soap having trouble listening to authority especially if it unnecessarily put lives at risk

Except for ghost, who thinks soap is an excellent who never talks back and always follows orders. Ghost gets confused when another lieutenant says soap was hell to command bc he never listened. And then another time he sees soap back talking another captain, he's not sure what it's about but it's clear that soap is arguing.

Ghost is taken aback by this because never once has he seen soap be this rude and down right disrespectful. He supposes it's fair, soap's been in the military for over a decade and he's only known him for a fraction of that time. But still it's been years since he met soap, and he's never seen soap raise his voice against price, much less himself.

Soap himself does not have a problem with authority. He has a problem with poor authority that will cost people their lives. He's always had a strong sense of justice, even as a kid, and it only grew as he got older. He got in trouble with teachers and eventually cops a lot before he joined the military.

His first lieutenant when he just gout out of boot camp had no problems sending soldiers to dies, as long as the mission was completed. Soap was not a fan. And he didn't hide it. Infact he was very loud about it.

He got sent back to boot three (3) times before they just let him move up the ranks. They had no real grounds to discharge him, and he was a damned good soldier; always top of his class even in his first round of boot. He did eventually learn to pick some of his battles, like if it was a direct order from a general or higher, those couldn't be changed. But Sergents, lieutenants, and captains were fair game for him, even if it was a different squad.

On the topic of price and ghost, well he never had a problem with them, not really anyway. Price valued the life of his men over the success of the mission, and that earned more respect from him than a thousand success missions could have. And ghost, sure he's mission driven, but he doesn't devalue the life of his men.

And sure soap has given counter suggestions on mission planning, but it's always with the best interest in mind and never without backup to support. And sure there have been disagreements, but never out right arguing, or disrespect. Plus he figures price asked for him specifically, by name, even with his "anti-authority" reputation. So he figures if price wasn't open to listening to him he would have asked for him.

Gaz wasn't too surprised, if only because he'd met Soap in passing in the field once or twice. He'd heard how soap had gotten his callsign, being able to clear a room and take down multiple hostiles with quick efficiency. Be he does wonder if it was actually for trying to clean up a captain's act as a private, or maybe having to clean up his own act. All the times he'd met soap before the 141 he'd always known the man to be steamy and hot headed, often getting into fights with his SOs or hell even his fellow Sergents.

But it isn't soap's fault. Really! Trust! See, because every time his SOs or the other sergents made a bad call, and he had to follow orders. And he lost soldiers who didn't have to die? Then that was on him for not speaking up. Their blood was on his hands for not using his voice when he could. And trust him, he's got plenty of blood on his hands, some his fault, some his direct decisions, some because he wouldn't dump it on his privates like his superiors did to him.

Soap has had to lead too many bright eyed soldiers into danger, on a plan that was held together on hash threads and hope, and had to tell them that they'd all get their recognition knowing still that not all of them would make it. He used to go against direct orders, even as a private. It got so bad that he was threatened with dishonorable dischatge on account of going awol and a slew of other things. And had it not been for his family, he wouldn't have cared. Not that his honor didn't mean anything, just that it meant less than peoples' lives, but of course his family always came first before anything else, so he stopped.

Well stopped blatantly going against direct orders. Didn't stop the arguing, got smarter in how he disobeyed, left his position when he had even the barest hint of a valid excuse, started doing little things to make life just a little bit harder. Because he doesn't think that you should just be able to have an easy life of you can knowingly send people off to die without a second thought.

#el rambles #respect the /right/ authority John soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john price #kyle gaz garrick #ghostsoap #soapghost #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod

167 notes · View notes

ellabism · 4 months

Text

ive come up with more plot for my lovers to enemies and then enemies to lovers ellabs fic idea. if you dont know what that is i talk about it here

i think that this would all take place on both their day ones when they see each other for the first time. i can envision abby being out on her run with mel and manny when the gunfire can be heard and they see the WLF chasing this girl and ordering her to be killed. manny would talk about how its the trespasser that everyone has been has been talking about, and how they're a kill on sight target. but when abby aims her weapon for a clear shot, thats when she realizes its her. her long lost girlfriend from when they were young teenagers that she was almost certain was already dead. ellie notices that its her too. they spend the moment in silence together, both bewildered. a gunshot rings, which would remind ellie where she is and what is happening, and thats when she takes that opening for her to escape.

the reason why i think it should happen on their day ones is because i think then abby's priority will shift from traveling across seattle to find owen to instead find ellie because what the fuck was that. why is my girlfriend from years ago that i just assumed died in a FEDRA attack is actually alive and why is she in seattle and why do the WLF want her dead? and when she gets back to the stadium from her patrol she sneaks out to go find her.

towards the end of seattle day 2 is when they finally run into each other and it would take place of the boat scene and instead ellie and abby will fuck in some random building bc i said so. ellie is just as bewildered that her ex is actually alive and not dead but she also can't help but be enthralled at her muscle growth and her build and things go one way and abbys fucking the shit out of ellie.(yes ellies a bottom in ellabs i dont make the rules) this would be so juicy to me because instead of the regular story of owen cheating on mel its ellie cheating on dina. and after waking up next to abby the next morning she realizes what the fuck she just did and she gets terrified and runs off, leaving abby to wake up alone, and she has to find her. again. is it just abby's thinking or did ellie get more stubborn the older she got?

ellies a fucking mess on her way back to the theater because she doesn't know what she did and why she did it because she has a pregnant girlfirend back at the theater waiting for her return. shes so distraught she can barley focus on getting back safely. but thats before tommy ends up running into her. tommy tells her all the intel he's collected on the WLF and shares leah's photocards he found and he points at a girl with a long blonde braid next to some man, explaining that that's the person who killed joel. and ellies eye's widened. abby. she did it. she killed joel. as if ellie's emotions weren't scattered around her brain now she's in a full out panic attack and feels sick and throws up. her girlfriend from years ago, one that she shared many laughs and dumb memories with, was the one to brutally murder joel.

abby's out looking for ellie once again, she's not letting ellie keep running away from her. especially not after what happened last night. on her journey she runs into manny. manny is asking her where the fuck she's been. the WLF have been looking for her, and isaac just assumed she went awol and became an enemy of theirs. but abby doesn't care. she wants to know why the girl they ran into on their run is shoot on sight. and that's when manny explains that these trespassers, who are not scars, have been hitting them hard. he tells her that these trespassers killed some of their closest friends. danny, leah, jordan, nora, owen and mel. (tommy ended up doing most, since ellie had other things going on, but she still contributed nonetheless). and now its abby's turn to feel sick. all this time she was out chasing for ellie to have some type of hopes of having her join them and be together again, finding out that she's here murdering her friends, but why?

abby, now seething, is still going to search for ellie. but not with the same idea she originally had in mind.

yall i need this fic to be picked up PLEASE. i cannot write series or develop characters to save my life. but i need to see this fic actually come to live its all i ask for PLEASE.

#ellabs #ellie williams #abby anderson #the last of us #the last of us 2 #abby x ellie #ellie x abby #silly headcanons #tlou2 #tlou #yall please write this #i am so desperate #i want to see this be a thing

59 notes · View notes

yaeggravate · 11 months

Text

nah sorry but HOW is dainsleif/kaeya STILL so slept on, even after they finally interacted? to the uninitiated, dainsleif is named after the sword of the legendary king hogni, also known as hagen, the son of alberich, a character from wagner's ring cycle, who kaeya is based on. in other words, dainsleif is literally named after kaeya's sword. whatever that means for their future relationship, and whether this is metaphorical or literal is unclear for now but hello that's crazy why are you as a man another man's sword

adding to that, in the previous patch we learned that dainsleif was carrying a ring with him, which is a reference to THEE ring of nibelung, which hagen (yes that guy again) was instructed to steal back by his father. and did you know that in order to use the ring the wearer must forsake love? i think you should know

not to mention the foreshadowing of a tumultuous and potentially tragic relationship based on their constellations. kaeya's a peacock and dain's ouroboros (snek). in hindu culture peacocks are often depicted killing snakes so you could say it's not looking good for mr dainsleif.

so basically you have two ways their relationship can go: either dainsleif is going to become loyal to kaeya, (which I can see happening because kaeya is the only khaenriahn we know of who isn't cursed or evil, and dainsleif would want to keep it that way. dain was also the royal guard of khaenri'ah and kaeya's ancestor is anfortas who briefly took over as regent when the king went awol, so there might be some kind of debt he wants to repay by protecting his descendent.) or kaeya is going to kill him <-obviously the story isn't THAT dark and they'd never permanently kill off a playable character lmao so if he does die i think it would be because he's freed from the curse, which according to zurvan is the reason why he's alive, implying that he died once. ouroboros does symbolize eternity so maybe kaeya is actually the key to breaking the curse of immortality, but what happens if you remove the only thing keeping him alive?

oh, and fun fact, the quest in which they meet is named 'destined encounter'. connect this to mona's prophecy of kaeya's fate catching up to him and you literally have him meeting his destiny. we're also told dainsleif loves alcohol and even mixes his own drinks, it's like they deliberately created him as the man of kaeya's dreams

with all this in mind, it's really strange to not see more people excited about the potential of their relationship, because they are in a unique position of being two characters with no pre-established relationship becoming closer throughout the story, where both of their fates remain a mystery, as opposed to so many of the other characters who remain stagnant and whose stories are already told.

#me <-clueless: hmm today i will visit the dainkae tag #me: ok i guess i'll go fms then #dainkae #what happened to loving characters doomed by the narrative I thought you guys loved doomed by narrative #I could be overestimating kaeya's importance to the story since he's still a 4 star #but that doesn't change all the deeper lore connected to them #.txt #lore bytes #neither of them are related or look like an ugly teenage toddler so what's the problem <- i know what the problem is 🙃

217 notes · View notes

a-killer-obsession · 2 days

Text

Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 19 - Lost and Found

Everything really goes to shit. Please heed the A03 tag warnings, this one is going to be dark.

WC: ~4k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055

It was hard to even remember that you'd ever had a life outside of a cell by the time you woke up on what must have been at least day ten of your new imprisonment. The seastone cuffs were forming new rings of red on your wrists and the bullet burned like a wild fire inside you. Breathing was difficult, on one part because of the broken rib, on the other from the daily beatings you'd received as the marines tried to put you back in your place and gain information on the Kid Pirates. You'd never talk, of course. They were the only friends you had, even if you felt in your heart that they'd abandoned you. It was fitting, really. You'd told Killer to run, you'd said your goodbyes, but secretly you'd hoped that maybe he did love you enough to come back. After ten days of rotting and starving in a cold cell, your hope had faded. They weren't coming back, and you were alone again.

It was a small miracle that you'd been given antibiotics for your wounds, but you knew it was only to keep you alive. If you died of infection they'd actually have to put in effort to finding your fruit before an enemy could eat it. It was easier this way, and they were well practiced with keeping their torture victims alive. You hadn't been able to sleep on your back for several days now, the result of the weeping wounds that covered your already scarred skin, the lashings dished out as a punishment for ‘going AWOL’, like you hadn't been thrown away by the marines years ago when you'd proven yourself to be untameable. Maybe Kid had come to the same conclusion, maybe you'd talked back one too many times to be worth the effort it would take to rescue you. Maybe if you'd spread your legs for him you would have at least had some use that was worth rescuing. But as always, nobody wanted you. Your father had the right idea, leaving before you were even born. He must have known all along how worthless you would come to be.

You felt yourself giving up. Nobody was coming for you, and your body ached and stung from the cuts and bruises that covered it. If you just gave in, stopped eating what little they offered you, let yourself succumb to your injuries, it would all be over. Nobody could hurt you anymore if you were dead. The feeling gave you a little hope, this would be over soon. Your body would stop hurting, your heart would stop hurting, and you would no longer be a burden on every person you met. You only had yourself in this world, but even you didn't want you.

Today was going no different than it had every day since your capture. The only small comfort you had was Killer's sash, now wrapped around your own waist. It was covered in your blood, but it was all you had, so at night you held it close to your heart, mourning what could have been if you'd made it back to the ship. You hoped above all else that he still wanted you, that the love you'd felt through the kiss still held true, even if he hadn't come for you yet. Maybe he wanted to, maybe he was just following an order from Kid to forget you. You played with a loose end as you laid on your side, the door to the cell opening as it had every morning so you could be dragged upright your daily torture session. You let yourself dissociate as you were pulled up by your hair, your cuffs attached above your head to a chain that hung from the ceiling. Your cuffs rubbed raw against your wrists as your weak legs struggled to keep you on your feet, but you dare not cry out in pain. Years of abuse had conditioned you to keep quiet.

The mindless goons who had strung you up remained on guard as their commodore entered the room, a disgustingly smug look on his face. You did your best to stare right through him, but couldn't deny that his expression made you ill. There was something different about it today, something darker and more knowing. It made you feel exposed and anxious as he stomped towards you in heavy boots. He was a larger man, someone who looked like they'd gotten where they were in life through intimidating those smaller than him. He smelt of cigars and cheap cologne that made your nose burn.

“How are we feeling today, little mouse?” He purred, forcing your chin up with a hard grasp to look at him. You spat in his face against your better judgement and he quickly retaliated with a hard backhand across your cheek. He wiped the spit from his face before continuing, “You'll never guess who I've just been speaking to on the den-den,” he gave you a cold smile that made you want to gag, “none other than your old pal Vice-Admiral Thompson”

A shiver ran through you and your eyes widened in fear as memories best kept forgotten began to bubble to the surface. Thompson had been the first to take charge of you after being discarded, back when he was still a commodore, and he had raped you mercilessly on a almost daily basis. The man had a pension for blood, and enjoyed cutting you as he fucked you. Your torture had only come to an end when he was given a promotion, and you were passed along to the next enthusiastic rapist, the one you had killed when Kid had found you. Your back featured many scars from his blade, since taking you from behind had been his preference. He didn't like to see your face, he preferred to just concentrate on the sound of your screams to get off. He'd grown bored when you stopped screaming for him, probably why he chose to pawn you off to someone else when he got his big promotion. It had been a blessing in disguise, and had taught you a valuable lesson about staying quiet. The new commodore had still raped you every chance he got, and taunted you daily, but at least he was a small-dicked three pump chump.

“He gave me some very valuable tips on how to tame you, little mouse,” he circled your body, and you winced as his calloused hand ran over the fresh cuts on your back from yesterday's whipping. “He had some very interesting techniques to share that I am quite interested in testing out for myself”

He nodded to the other men in the room, and they grabbed you from either side, making sure you couldn't do anything to kick or fight back, not that you had the energy. They pulled your skirt up and your panties down roughly, and the commodore kicked your legs further apart to make room for himself. It put more pressure on your painful wrists, and tears pricked at your eyes. You heard the distinct sound of his pants unzipping and he began to palm himself behind you.

“Are you going to talk mouse, or am I going to have to fuck it out of you?” He growled.

Tears began to fall against your will as you prepared yourself for the inevitable. You blanked everything out, swallowing your mind till it sat deep inside yourself, your eyes blank as the tears flowed freely from them, your body lose as you gave over any control to your hindbrain, which focused only on breathing and keeping your heart beating. Nothing else was necessary, and for a sweet moment you felt no pain as you dissociated. The world went white and silent, you had given up.

The last ten days had been torture for Killer, pacing back and forth in the navigation room while Kid pinched the bridge of his nose. They'd wanted to go after you, all the commanders had, but they'd lost the element of surprise. Kid had been ready to turn the ship around and wage war, but at Wire's sage advice he had held back. Killer hated that Wire was right. They needed to wait, they needed the base to think they had abandoned you, because without the element of surprise they might not make it to you without heavy losses on their side.

“Kid, you promised,” Killer growled, “why are we still waiting? Has it not been long enough?”

Wire sighed from his seat, Heat next to him in the same unwavering haze of sadness he'd been in since Killer had gotten back. It was the island all over again. “We agreed two weeks, Killer, that was the decision. It's only four more days. She's strong, she'll make it”

“But what if she doesn't?” Killer yelled back. His mask had been abandoned on the table hours ago, he felt like he was suffocating in it under the stress of the situation. Kid's chest hurt watching the way Killer's face morphed with pain whenever he spoke of you. “Her vivre has been burning for days now, she's dying!”

The last ten days had been hell for everyone on board, and Killer's body was wrecked with self-inflicted cuts under his clothing from multiple manic episodes. Kid didn't know what to do anymore, he feared his friend would lose his mind all together if they didn't get you back. The only reason his room was inhabitable at all was because they'd spent the last six days docked at a nearby island; his furniture had been replaced multiple times at this point.

“Wire, a few days less won't kill the plan,” he finally surrendered, “if we set sail today, we'll be there in two days from now. I agree with Killer, two weeks was a good plan to begin with, but I don't like the way her vivre is looking. We may be too late if we don't act soon”

Wire sighed in defeat, but was relieved to not be the one to give in. He may not be as close to you as the others, but Heat was his best friend, and the man hadn't been the same since they lost you. Everyone needed you home, it wasn't the same on the ship without you. “I'll give the orders,” he declared, taking his leave to head to the deck, followed by a sulking Heat.

“We're gonna get her back Kil,” Kid assured, “When have I ever broken a promise to you?”

“You haven't,” Killer mumbled, replacing his mask to head out.

“Exactly, so just rest your fears with me, I'll get her back, whatever it takes,” he pressed his flesh hand to Killer's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “Well make plans tomorrow, for now just stay strong. We'll bring her home Kil”

As expected, the commodore had been less than gentle with you, and after he was done pumping you with his thick load, he'd let the other two men have their turn as well. You were naked by the time they left you, and you laid on the floor crying and holding Killer's sash to your face, your pussy aching and torn from their abuse. The next day, when you still hadn't talked, he repeated the process. This time he brought a blade with him, cutting into the small of your back. The blood had at least acted as a lubricant as he fucked you mercilessly, but you still ached from the previous day's abuse. He'd brought more men with him this time as well, the collective cum of five men slipping out of your abused hole as you lay on the floor. You didn't cry today, there was nothing left in you. You were entirely devoid of any emotion, resigned to letting yourself starve until it was over. The lashing wounds from several days ago were growing infected from the commodore playing with them, he'd purposefully reopened your wounds as he raped you to add to your misery. You still hadn't talked, at this point you weren't sure if you were capable of speaking.

By the twelfth day you were just a shell. A ragdoll of a body, burning with fever and devoid of any feeling or thoughts. You hadn't slept, just stared blankly at the wall, unmoving from where they had dumped you on the floor after using you. You laid in your own blood, the wounds they had left still trickling for many hours after they had finished with you till they finally clotted to stop the bleeding. Your clothes had been taken from you, except for the sash. You considered hanging yourself with it, but you weren't sure it would even work. You had nothing to allow for a short jump to snap your neck, you would have to rely on strangulation, but that would mean the already heavily damaged sash would have to endure your weight for long enough to kill you. You didn't have the energy to do it right now anyway, it would require standing and your legs were far too weak for that. You'd pissed yourself at some point, unable to find the will to get up even to squat over the bucket in the corner.

There was thick silence around you, as there had been every day since your capture. The walls of the cell were particularly thick, blocking out any sound from outside, blank and dirty and grey, the only light being a single flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling that was never switched off. It was all carefully crafted to break you, to drive you insane till you gave up your secrets and spilled everything you knew about the Kid Pirates. The joke was on them, this wasn't your first experience with a cell like this, you learned last time how to sink inside yourself to hide from it all.

The door opened as it had every morning, and like every other morning your body was manipulated to wherever they wanted it to be. You didn't register how or where they moved you, your eyes continued to stare blankly ahead. You didn't register the cuffs being removed, the scarred arm or striped mask, the change of scenery as you were carried away. Daylight hit you, burning your eyes, so you closed them, your last connection to the outside world severed as your protective shell finished building up around you, fully encompassing you as you fell to a deep, exhausted sleep.

The Kid Pirates had started their wanton destruction the second they made landfall. The base had in fact been caught off guard, wrongly assuming that after twelve days of not making any attempt to rescue you, that you had been written off as not worth the effort. It couldn't be further from the truth as they slashed and burned and smashed their way through the base, killing every man and woman they encountered. Every building was checked, and if you weren't inside, immediately destroyed. Kid welded his gigantic metal arm, sweeping through the marines and sending decimating blows through every building, followed by Heat who set fire to any remains and any marine who got close enough. Wire was running ahead with Killer, the two of them being the fastest on the crew as they scouted every building for you, following your vivre on a warpath.

Double hadn't been able to locate the cells on the map, and suspected they were underground somewhere. His suspicion proved to be correct when they found a set of stairs hidden in the back of a small building, leaning to a short hall of dire looking cells. Killer's haki told him someone was alive down here, and the burning sliver that remained of your burning vivre card agreed. Killer sliced the lock off the door on the only occupied room, opening it with his heart in his throat as he dreaded what he would find inside.

He and Wire stood in shocked silence as the door swung open. You were there, naked on the floor, laying in a pool of blood and piss and clutching something close to your face like it was a lifeline. It took him a moment to register that it was his sash, it was so soaked with dark, dried blood that there was barely any blue left. Your eyes were open, but you didn't see them, not even when he waved a hand in front of your face. He touched your shoulder gingerly, and you didn't react at all, not even a shiver or painful wince. There was just nothing, you were just a shell, and he felt like they'd come too late. You were alive, but you were no longer living.

Wire took off his long hooded coat and handed it to Killer, who swaddled you in it before lifting you carefully into a bridal hold. Your body was littered with bruises and wounds, several of which were weeping pus. You were hot to the touch, near scalding, and your skin was clammy, damp with sweat from your fever. The two men said nothing to each other, there was nothing to be said that wasn't already painfully obvious to both of them. The second he had you in his arms, he was running.

He ran as fast as his legs would take him, his solitary mission to get you to Mohawk as quickly as possible while Wire covered his back from enemies. Kid opened his mouth to speak as they passed, but Wire just shook his head at him as he ran behind Killer. Kid roared in anger and lifted every piece of metal he could get into the air, forming a giant hammer and crushing everything in sight. The rest of the crew retreated, they knew better than to get in the way of Kid's fury.

As soon as Kid was satisfied that the base was sufficiently destroyed, any remains set alight by Heat, the Victoria Punk had set sail, with the intention of getting as far away from this awful place as possible. Mohawk had spent the last several hours working diligently on your wounds. Only Wire had been allowed access to the infirmary, being that he was the least emotional right now, and Mohawk needed unaffected assistance to help considering your state, which teetered dangerously at the edge of life and death. With some struggle he'd managed to surgically reopen the wounds that had begun closing, including the gunshot, so he could remove the bullet and any contaminants, and disinfect them all properly before stitching them closed. There wasn't much he could do for your broken rib other than make sure there were no shards of bone threatening to pierce your lung, and pump you with sufficient pain medication. You would likely be asleep for several more days given the extremely high dose he had you on, but that was for the best.

The worst of it had come though as he and Wire carefully cleaned your body, and Wire had discovered the blood between your legs. They felt awful about having to spread you open, but Mohawk was a doctor, and he was concerned about the damage that had been done to you. He cursed himself for never having bought a speculum now that there was a woman on the ship, he could only do so much to check your internal wounds without feeling like he was violating you. He did what he could for the outside though, stitching you delicately with dissolvable thread so you wouldn't have to go through the trauma of having him remove them, and making sure to add every anti-STI medication he had on hand to the cocktail of drugs he already had you on.

With Wire's help, they had cleaned and closed and dressed every wound on your body, and they carefully slipped a set of comfortable underwear and shorts on to you, along with a medical gown so Mohawk could still easily access the worst of the wounds on your torso until you woke up. It had taken over five hours to attend to you, all the while Killer had been pacing nervously outside the door, his sash balled up in his hand. He'd rushed to your side the second Wire opened the door, taking your hand gingerly and holding it firmly between both of his as he sat in a chair Mohawk had pulled over for him.

“She's going to be asleep for a few days at least,” Mohawk reported, standing on the other side of the cot as he pulled a blanket over you to finish up his work. “She still had the bullet inside her, so I suggest getting her bracelet back on soon before she wakes now that she's free of the seastone. She's got a broken rib, and too many wounds to count. It looks like many of them were from a whip, a handful from a blade. She's got a black eye, a swollen cheek, and most of her torso is covered in bruises in different stages of healing that look like they go back as far as when we lost her. Her wrists are also rubbed raw, I'm assuming they hung her by her wrists and the cuffs cut into her that way. She's definitely emaciated so I've got her on a lot of supplements right now, as well as a lot of antibiotics and pain meds. The pain meds themselves will have her out for a few days till I feel confident that she'd be okay on a lower dose, but that won't be until her fever breaks”

Killer wanted to cry hearing the doctor's report on your condition, and he held your hand close to his mask as he struggled to hold back tears. “Killer, there's one other thing,” Mohawk continued. Killer looked up at him with deep concern. “She's been raped, multiple times if I had to guess from her injuries. It was bad enough to need stitches. I've got her on every STI preventative I have on hand but I'll need to run some tests in a few weeks to make sure she didn't catch anything”

Killer let out a single wheezing sob as he failed to keep his composure. It was no wonder you were so lifeless when they found you, the worst had happened and he only had himself to blame for it. Mohawk gave him a pat on the shoulder and took his leave, giving the Massacre Soldier the space he needed to get his feelings out. Killer began to sob, tears leaking through the holes of his mask as it rested against your shoulder till he caved and tore it off. At some point Kid and Heat joined him, the three of them sitting in silence watching over you, save for the occasional sniff or new bouts of sobs from Killer.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #heat one piece #heat x reader #kid pirates

20 notes · View notes

astrobei · 1 year

Note

byler 22 for the touch prompts??

22 for touch prompts: falling asleep on the other's shoulder (+ bonus mini soundtrack that i listened to on repeat while writing this)

“Remind me again,” Mike says, as Will climbs into the passenger side of the car, “why we have to go to this thing today?”

Will gives him a look. Or his best attempt at a look anyway. He’s ninety percent sure they fall too flat to ever be effective, or Mike would have stopped saying stupid shit years ago. “This thing?” He struggles with the seatbelt for a moment before it finally clicks into place. “You mean your sister’s wedding? To my brother?”

Mike pulls a face. “If you want to get into the semantics,” he mumbles, adjusting the rearview mirror, and Will laughs.

“You’re ridiculous. It’s their wedding, Mike.”

“Rude to get married on a Saturday night,” Mike says, as if every wedding in the history of the world ever hasn’t taken place on a Saturday night. “Maybe some of us had things to do.”

“Yeah? What did you have going on?” Will asks, smoothing down the lapel of his suit. This jacket is a lint magnet like nothing he’s ever seen before, and he plucks a little piece of it away. “Hot date?”

Mike wiggles his eyebrows, and Will realizes immediately that this was the wrong thing to say. “Yeah,” Mike chirps, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You.”

Despite himself, Will feels his cheeks turn red. It’s stupid, because he quite literally handed Mike the opportunity to say this on a silver platter, and it’s more dumb than any sort of flirtatious, except the unfortunate truth of dating Mike Wheeler is that he doesn’t even have to try and actually flirt to get Will blushing like a teenage girl. “I had that coming,” he admits, and Mike grins even harder than before. “And we didn’t have a date tonight.”

“We did! We were going to–”

“We can order pizza and watch TV when we get back, Mike,” Will chides, and, when Mike’s lower lip turns downward in something reminiscent of a pout, “this is Nancy’s wedding.”

“I was never Nancy’s favorite sibling,” Mike says noncommittally, releasing the parking brake, “she won’t even notice if I’m not there,” which one, is not true because Mike makes up about a third of Nancy’s bridal party so she will most definitely notice if he goes AWOL. And second, this is also not true because Will knows that Holly is currently in the throes of teenage angst, and Mike is still working on the angst but he’s moved on from the teenager part, at least, which is definitely earning him some points in Nancy’s book. So at worst, he’s tied with Holly. At least for the next couple of years.

And Will knows he’s not being serious anyway. For all of the fuss he’s kicking up, he knows Mike is happy for them. Will checks the backseat to make sure he put the presents in the car earlier that afternoon, and says, laughing, “Cold feet? It’s not even your wedding, Mike.”

“I know,” Mike moans, falling forward until his forehead hits the top of the steering wheel. “And it’s exciting! I’m happy for them! And your brother too, and I know your mom and Hop are so pumped, and– it’s just that I’m not so pumped about spending the evening with my family.”

Will suddenly feels very, very stupid. Jesus, he hadn’t even thought about that– about Mike’s parents being there, and his nana, the one that his mom had totally guilted Nancy into inviting because she might not live long enough to see Mike and Holly get married, Nancy, just let her have this. Which was kind of a depressing enough thought on its own, Will thinks, even without the entire conversation that had followed, the one he’d overheard Mike have on the phone in the living room, loud and frustrated before he’d slammed the phone down on the receiver hard enough for Will to hear it from their bedroom.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, then rests a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to them, okay, Mike? Just– hang out with us instead. I know Dustin’s been dying to break out his new dance moves.”

Mike cracks a tentative smile, then turns his face slightly so that one side of it is illuminated by the glow of the street lamps outside. “I’m scared he’s going to get driven away in a stretcher,” Mike admits, and Will grins.

“Yeah, probably. It’ll be a good distraction, at least. I’ll tell him to take one for the team.”

Mike nods once, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Will hesitates, then drops his hand to Mike’s and slots their fingers together. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Look at me.”

Mike looks up the rest of the way. He looks incredible tonight, which is something Will’s been thinking ever since they’d started getting ready an hour ago, and at least half of the reason it took him so long was because he’d been totally distracted the whole time. Maybe Will is just biased, which is a little true, sure, but Mike should definitely wear suits more– and he’s officially taking it upon himself to make sure that Mike wears suits more– because suddenly he’s tempted to take Mike up on his offer of becoming a runaway best man and going back inside and collapsing on the couch and kissing him stupid into the early hours of the morning.

“What?” Mike is saying, eyebrows twisting a little self-consciously. “You’re looking at me funny.”

“You just look really nice,” Will says simply, and then, because that comes nowhere close to how good Mike looks in a tie, “no, actually, you look– wow.”

Mike’s lips twitch, but he looks a little pleased. “Wow? Really?”

“You’ve rendered me speechless,” Will nods rapidly, and Mike’s shy smile breaks into something more genuine. “You– look at you, I mean– I can’t even– wow.”

“Will,” Mike says, drawing out the single syllable until it feels big enough to fill up the whole car. “Okay, I look nice! You can stop playing it up now.”

His cheeks are turning red, slowly, visible even in the dim lighting of the street lamps through the windows, because it’s early fall and it’s started to get dark ridiculously early in the day. It feels like a victory, getting Mike flustered, even after a year of dating. Will smiles to himself.

“I’m not,” Will says, then leans in across the console. “Come here. I’ll prove it.”

“You’ll–” Mike gets out, eyes going wide in surprise, “–has anyone ever told you that you’re–”

Whatever it was that people may or may not have told Will is apparently a mystery that will die with the universe, because Will never finds out. He kisses Mike with one hand still holding his, threads a hand through his hair and cups his jaw. Soft. Slow. Unhurried, even though they should have left ten minutes ago and they’re going to be cutting it real close– Will can’t be bothered to rush.

Mike hums low in the back of his throat, pleased, and shifts closer. He’s pushing himself up over the console, a hand ghosting the side of Will’s neck, when–

Beeeeep.

“What–” Will jerks backwards, startled, and Mike immediately lets go of his hand. “Did you just–”

Mike rubs his elbow and moves further away from the wheel. “I got a little distracted,” he laughs, but the tension has ebbed from his shoulders a little and his eyes are creasing up at the corners, so Will considers this a mission success, thank you. “We should probably go?”

“Good idea,” Will says, then reaches over to smooth out a stray tuft of Mike’s hair that was– he thinks, a little proud of himself– definitely not out of place before. “And hey,” he adds, before Mike can take the car out of park. “Seriously. Ignore your parents. It’s not their wedding, okay, it’s Nancy’s. And Jonathan’s. And they both want us there. Together.”

Mike’s lips press together into a thin, determined line. “You’re right,” he nods, “I know, it’s just–”

“I know,” Will echoes, and Mike shoots him a grateful smile. “Now let’s go, or we really will miss the ceremony.”

—-

They don’t miss the ceremony, which is good, because having both the best man and the– whatever Mike was– would probably not be a good look for anyone involved.

“I can’t believe you cried,” Dustin says, after the toasts are done and the speeches are given and everyone’s been supplied with enough champagne to go a little loose and maybe a little tear-happy.

Mike scowls across the table at him. “I didn’t cry,” he insists, which is kind of pointless because Will had been watching him the whole time he’d been standing up there, shuffling his feet awkwardly in place at his designated spot in between Holly and Robin Buckley, and he’d definitely cried. Just a little, but he had.

“You did,” El chimes in primly, plucking at her shrimp cocktail. “I saw.”

“Thanks, El,” Mike mutters, sinking back in his chair a little and crossing his arms. “It’s– the vows were very emotional, okay, you’d have to be made of total stone to not tear up!”

“I didn’t cry,” Lucas announces, which is a fucking lie, by the way. Will saw him dabbing at his eyes in the bathroom on the way here.

“I think it’s sweet,” he says, instead of throwing Lucas to the dogs like he maybe should have. He flashes Mike a grin, leans over in his chair to bridge the space between them and squeezes his hand, once. “They were very sappy vows, to be fair.”

Mike blinks up at him from where he’s slumped down to somewhere around shoulder height. “You didn’t cry.”

“Oh, I did,” Will assures him. “I just cried in the back with Jonathan while he was getting ready.”

“Really?” Mike perks right up. “You did?”

“Yes,” Will laughs, “and I can’t believe you’re happy about it,” and then Mike grins so wide that Will can’t help but lean in the rest of the way and press a quick kiss to Mike’s cheek.

“You two are disgusting,” Lucas says, and he’s maybe one strike away from Will speaking up about the bathroom incident after all.

“Maybe so,” Mike relents, looking properly cheered up now. “What about it?”

Mike’s grip on Will’s hand never falters. Will feels himself turn warmer with every slow pass of Mike’s thumb over his knuckles, even with their hands tucked under the tablecloth and out of view. And it isn’t from the champagne. He’s had just the one glass with dinner, which is nothing, so it must be something else that’s making him feel like this. Something–

“You okay?” Mike murmurs as his thumb pauses, briefly, on the back of Will’s hand. “You got kind of quiet out of nowhere,” and yeah, there it is.

“I meant it,” Will says, lowering his voice so their friends can’t hear them from across the table. “What I said in the car, I mean. You look beautiful.”

It’s a little amusing just how fast Mike can turn such a violent shade of red. “You can’t just say that,” he splutters. “Give a guy some warning, Jesus, Will–”

“Mm, no,” Will decides smugly, watching the red creep down the collar of Mike’s carefully starched dress shirt. Then, because the soft lighting of the venue and the way Mike’s hair has started to fall free around his face is doing something funny to his chest and stomach, Will nods to the dance floor and says, “You wanna?”

Mike hesitates, looking over his shoulder. “Dance?”

Will shrugs, then looks over to where Jonathan and Nancy are trying– and failing, quite hilariously and miserably– at a dance of their own. “I mean, it’s a wedding, and people dance at weddings. Not that either of us are good at it, but it might be fun to try?”

Mike chews nervously at his lower lip and nudges Will’s foot with his own. “I don’t know,” he admits. “My mom was eyeing me earlier and I was totally avoiding her by hiding out over here but I feel like the dance floor is fair game for a–” he waves his hands around, “pseudo-confrontation. Nancy’s only three years older than you, blah, blah. When are you going to settle down, blah, blah. Even though I’m here with my boyfriend, which apparently doesn’t count for shit, and–” Mike sighs dejectedly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring the mood down, it’s just– I was having such a good day, too.”

Will squeezes Mike’s leg, just above the knee. “You were having a good day? Really? Even though your hot date got canceled?”

“Well,” Mike rolls his eyes. “My sister got married, and now my hot date is all dressed up and sweet-talking me, so I think this is even better than pizza on the couch.” He pauses, contemplating. “Actually, scratch that. It’s not. But it’s a close second,” Mike adds, then grins and picks Will’s hand up again. “Dance– later, maybe? I’m really enjoying this for right now.”

“Of course. Anything you want,” Will smiles, as the music in the background softens into something more mellow. He pulls his chair up so that it’s flush with Mike’s, their thighs pressed up together in one line, and passes Mike a flute of champagne from the table. “You might want to drink this, though, because your mom looks like she might be heading over here any second.”

“Thanks,” Mike groans, then knocks the whole thing back in one go.

—-

Will knows that a big fancy flashy wedding isn’t really Jonathan’s style, and he didn’t think it was Nancy’s either. Which is why he was surprised to get an invite to an event at all, because he’d honestly sort of thought they’d make a courthouse affair of it and then have everyone over for dinner or something. They’d been engaged for, like, three years, because it was career stuff and then more career stuff and then a couple months of long distance while Jonathan was doing some photojournalism thing in London, and Will had figured at some point that they’d get so tired of being engaged that they’d show up the next day with papers from City Hall and that would be that.

Apparently, though, in a not-so-surprising turn of events, Nancy Wheeler takes to event planning like a moth to flame, and Jonathan was immediately dragged along for the ride. He didn’t seem too upset about it, though, when Will had asked. “It’s Nancy,” he shrugged, like that explained everything. And maybe it did, because not too long after that, Will started dating Mike and everything immediately clicked.

Which is maybe the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him. For anyone else, Will would not even entertain the thought of fussing over seating arrangements, and he’s certain he only knows, like, five types of flowers– if pink and red roses count as two different types. It’s Nancy, Jonathan had said, and Will hadn’t gotten it then but he does now.

Mike’s hand twitches on Will’s bicep, fingers clutching once at the fabric of his shirt. Will’s suit jacket lies abandoned on the chair behind them. Mike had leaned over maybe half an hour ago to rest his head on Will’s shoulder, as it got later in the night and guests started slowly trickling out of the room. And then, maybe fifteen or so minutes ago, his breathing had evened out, fingers slackening in their grip against his arm, and Will doesn’t know how the hell Mike can fall asleep in a room that’s filled with so much noise, but he can’t help but find it endearing– wholly, completely, embarrassingly endearing.

And he gets it, he does. It’s Mike, he thinks, chest flooding with warmth in a strange, hollowed-out way, like there’s nothing left inside him except this feeling. It’s Mike. It’s Mike. It’s–

“Hey, hon,” comes a voice behind him, and Will startles, just a little, then immediately relaxes.

“Oh, hey mom,” he whispers, and Mike’s hand twitches lightly against his arm again. Joyce gives him an amused look, glancing down at Mike, then back at Will.

“Did he fall asleep?” she asks, pulling up a chair next to them. “I’ll be quiet, don’t worry.”

Will feels himself smile before he actually realizes he’s doing it. “Yeah,” he snorts softly, “but I have no idea how.”

As if roused by some sixth sense, like he knew they were talking about him, Mike stirs, lifting his head off of Will’s shoulder and blinking blearily. “What–”

“Shh,” Will says, and Joyce bites back a smile. “Go back to sleep.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Mike says, and then yawns loud and conspicuously. “Shit– I’ve just been so tired this week, sorry, Will–”

“Don’t be,” he says immediately, even though his shoulder and arm are starting to fall asleep, just a little. Will drops a kiss to the top of Mike’s head, and feels him start to smile into his shoulder before stiffening, a little self-consciously, and glancing up at Joyce.

“Um–”

“Oh,” his mom waves a hand, “don’t mind me. You two are so sweet. You remind me of Nancy and Jonathan after they started dating. Jonathan would turn so red, but maybe not as red as you’re turning right now, Will–”

“Mom!”

“Red?” Mike perks up, and then, “Oh you are turning red!”

“Shut up,” Will mumbles, but he’s sure it’s not convincing in the slightest. “Did you come over here just to embarrass me?”

Joyce puts two hands up in the air like hey, don’t look at me. “I was just going to let you know that Hop and I are taking off,” she says, eyes sparkling. “He has the early shift tomorrow, but Mike, now that I’ve caught you– your speech was wonderful. Really. Jim was tearing up and he told me to never let you find out but I figured you’d want to know.”

Mike blinks. He still looks a little out of it, still a little red from sleep or the champagne from earlier, but he smiles, sudden and pleased. “Really?”

“Don’t tell him I told you,” Joyce grins conspiratorially. “But yes. It was very sweet.”

“Thanks Mrs. Byers,” Mike says, the words stretching into another yawn, quieter this time. He groans lightly, then pushes himself off of Will’s shoulder and sits back up.

Will peers over at him. “Are you tired? You want to head back?”

Mike rubs at his eyes with both hands, blinks a few times in rapid succession, then shakes his head like he’s trying to shake the sleep out of his body, like it’s a physical thing. “No,” he smiles, and it’s a little bit tired, but he looks happy. “No, not yet.”

“Okay,” Will whispers, and he’s probably grinning like an idiot, but he can’t help it. That’s the common denominator here, between every interaction he ever has with Mike– that he’s so happy that he just can’t help it. “You still want to get pizza on the way back?”

“God, yes please,” Mike groans in relief. “Um. No offense, but wedding food is just– like what the hell, man, I’m starving. That was nothing.”

“Pizza it is,” Will agreed easily, mentally making a pros and cons list of getting a large and having leftovers or saving money and going for a medium. “Pepperoni?”

“Anything goes,” Mike is saying, and then Joyce clears her throat.

“Well,” she says, snapping her purse shut and smiling. “Hop and I are heading out but– oh, drive safe you two. Eat a slice for me, actually, I’ve been craving pizza all week.”

“Bye, mom,” Will smiles, craning his neck upwards as she plants a kiss on top of his head.

“You too,” she says to Mike, who barely has time to blink in surprise before his mom is dropping a kiss on his forehead. She rests a hand on his shoulder briefly as she smiles and says, “I’d welcome you to the family, Mike, but you’ve been a part of it for years already.”

“I– bye, Mrs. Byers,” Mike says faintly, eyes wide, as Joyce waves goodbye. He turns back to Will. “Part of the family? Really?”

“It’s what you get for dating your best friend,” Will murmurs, glancing out over the rapidly emptying room before tugging on Mike’s arm until he falls into him with a small, startled noise. “You get smothered by my mom.”

“I wouldn’t call it smothering,” Mike laughs, eyes darting down to Will’s mouth. He swallows, and says, softly, “Plus, I like your family. No complaints from me.”

Will hums, soft. “I’m sorry about– you know. How did that go?”

“Nancy said she survived mom and dad with minimal damage,” Mike laughs drily. “And nana too. And I managed to avoid them long enough that they didn’t have a chance to ambush me, so.”

“Good,” Will says, kissing Mike softly on the corner of his mouth, then again, right over the curve of his cupid’s bow. He’s a little warm, a little loose and pliant from sleep, and he moves easily, tucking a finger into the loop of Will’s tie and pulling him in closer. Their knees bump against each other under the tablecloth, chair legs scraping gently across the polished floor as Will leans forward. “I’m glad,” Will says into the kiss, and Mike smiles.

“Me too,” Mike whispers, tucking his hands into Will’s hair and pulling away, just barely. “Because now they’re gone and all of our annoying cursory invite relatives are gone and it’s just you and me– and Nancy, and Jonathan, and El and Lucas and– whatever. I think I owe you a dance.”

There’s something slow and melodic playing as Nancy and Jonathan make the last of their rounds, most of the tables empty and the dance floor cleared out. Will grins, kisses Mike one more time for good measure, then stands up. “Okay,” he agrees, “but I’m leading.”

“I don’t think it makes a difference, because neither of us can–”

“I’m leading,” Will says again, and Mike chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, sure. Lead the way, Will.”

#oh this got away from me #this really really got away from me #parker the actual prompt part is so minor i'm so sorry i had a vision for this and then it got away from me so bad #idk why i thought jancy wedding but the thought popped into my head and i just went with it #something so personal to me is jancy deciding to have a courthouse wedding but then nancy gets into planning like music and food and stuff #nothing fancy like she's not a bridezilla by any means #but they end up having a small ceremony n reception with just their family n close friends #like the extended party + jopper #and on nancy's side her parents wheedle her into inviting a few other relatives like aunts n cousins but it's still iike 25-30 people max #anyways these tags got so long and weren't even byler #parker i hope u like this !!!#probably is not even what u had in mind but . Yeah #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #fic #fun sized fics

317 notes · View notes