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briefalpacashark · 1 month

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~Saviour~

Warning: Hospitals, near death, violence, blood. Graphic descriptions.

Synopsis: when a mission goes south you save your 141 boys.

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Life had a way of throwing shit at you. Giving you a curveball that often cleaved through your life.

This day was no different.

You sat in the med bay. Blood and dirt caked your hands all the way up to your elbows. Your breath was erratic as your left hand clasped and unclasped. Your right arm was numb laid limply on your knee. You glanced at it, unsure why it wasn't moving. Your hand was hidden by a glove that looked a little big to be yours. Were you wearing gloves? You couldn't remember. Your eyes set on the door in front of you. The doors which behind held your squad. The nurses and doctors who rushed around sent brief worried glances at you, but you would simply wave them off. You could only see the blood on your arms. You couldn't see the blood that covered your shirt and down the right side of your face.

Flashes of what happened played on a taunting replay in your head.

It was supposed to be just a simple routine check on one of the outreach bases. Your team was accompanied by about thirty others. You remembered sitting with your squad as Price gave out some simple orders. You remembered smiling brightly at the boys as they cracked a joke.

You remembered feeling the first drops of rain when it happened. You took notice of the water dripping from your body onto the cheap plastic chair as you closed your eyes. You were as wet as a drowned rat. You weren't really sure how it happened. There was an explosion. There were other soldiers, not dressed like you. It was an attack. You were the furthest from the explosion. You remember seeing your squad scattered around? Price and Ghost were the only other ones who recovered consciousness. They went down faster than you could comprehend. Ghost, because of another explosion and due to a loss of blood, a bullet cleaved through his collarbone. Jonny's lung was collapsing and Gaz was unresponsive. You could name every other injury your squad sustained. You had it all listed in your head. Every scratch and laceration. You remembered treating them amid the chaos. You remembered dragging them each to the rally point where they were packed into a chopper and taken to safety. You remembered regurgitating that information up to the doctors. When your mind was done with that, it started replaying what you had done to treat their injuries. Had you done it properly? You followed through your steps, trying desperately to piece them all together.

You couldn't. It was all a jumbled mess. You mind was a jumbled mess.

You weren't allowed in the operating rooms; you weren't qualified. You remembered being pulled out by someone. You remember trying to fight against their arms, but they were too strong. And now you were there. Sitting alone in an empty hall.

As the adrenalin started to run out, you finally noticed the ringing in your head. The numbness up your right arm. With everything you felt, you diagnosed yourself with a concussion, a bad one and possible shock. You didn't know how long you had sat there. Yet when a doctor approached you, your clothes were dry.

"You can see them now. They're all awake and in bay seven," he said, gesturing you in the room. Nodding, you mumbled out a thank you as you walked into the room and noticed that you had a slight limp.

"Heeeyyyyyy. There's our medic. Finally decided to show up and do your job, huh?" your eyes first found Jonny’s. He sat upright in the hospital bed with a bright smile on the right. Ghost and Gaz stood next to Price, in a bed of his own, looking pretty good on the left. You had to give it to modern medicine. It was extraordinary.

"Damn girl, you look like shit," Gaz commented, making everyone in the room chuckle. You chuckled as well as you took them all in. Took in the open eyes and smiles.

They were alright.

"Sorry. Haven't had time for a shower. But I still smell better than Jonny," you said, earning chuckles from them.

"You got a bit of a limp there. You alright kid?" Price groggy voice came from the bed. His shoulder was wrapped up something fierce.

"I'm alright sir. My arms a little banged up. How about you, huh?" you asked.

They were all alive and safe.

"I'm alright. A little disappointed you weren't doing your job, though. But I had a cute doctor so I'm not complaining," Price cracking a joke. A rare but welcome thing.

"Nah, the doctors wouldn't let me in. I don't have the right credentials apparently," you said, feeling something building behind your eyes.

"What a load of shit," Jonny said.

"But you're all ok right?" you asked, your voice shaky as you gripped your sleeve.

"We're fine. A little beatenand bruised, but we're out of the woods," Gaz commented. You weren't able to hold the small sob that escaped your lips.

"That's good. That's good," you said, reaching your hand up to cover the sob with a cough. Yet you couldn't hold back the tears that quickly started to pour from your eyes. The relief you were feeling was too much. The worry and fear that had been suffocating you had lifted, finally letting you breathe. It seemed like the whole time you had been waiting was like being underwater. And with their words, you were finally able to gasp for air.

They were ok.

"Sargent?" Price questioned hesitant looks being passed around the room.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, wiping the tears away.

"Oh come on short stack. These little scratches aren't worth crying over." your squad wasn't sure what to do. They didn't really cry. It was something that was strange to them, so they weren't sure how they should react to you doing just that.

"It's just. God. You idiots really worried me, you know. And now you fuckers got me crying. God. It seems like I really love you guys," you sniffled as you whispered that last part to yourself. Not well enough though. They had each heard it.

"Aw come on. Now. You're gonna make me blush," Jonny’s comment had you laughing as you whipped your nose.

"You better consider yourselves important. I don't just cry for anyone you know," you calmed yourself, your cries settling into only tears and a brief quiver of your voice.

"Come on now, Sargent. Straighten yourself out. And for god's sake, have a shower," Price said with a warm smile. You nodded with a smile.

"Yes sir," you took one last look around the room before turning to leave.

You didn't get far. Your legs didn't seem to get the plan. Your knees buckled slightly, but you were able to keep yourself up.

"Come on," you whispered, straightening up. You weren't on your feet for more than two seconds before you tumbled to the ground.

"Y/N!" As you lay on the cold ground you felt yourself being flipped over. Those who could stand had rushed to you. Then nothing.

Your squad watched all in pure worry as Ghost lifted you onto a spare bed. They yelled for a doctor.

"What's wrong with her?" A doctor who had been yanked into the room asked, taking a torch and shining it in your eyes.

"She just collapsed," Gaz said.

"She's got a concussion," he started.

"She said there was something else with her arm too," Ghost added. Jonny stood waddling over to you. The doctor pulled your left sleeves up to see if there was anything wrong. Seeing nothing, he moved to the right. Pulling the sleeve up, he pauses in slight shock. Your skin was blistered and bleeding with four-degree burns.

"I need nurses here now!" he yelled. He hurried, cutting your shirt sleeves going higher and higher to see the burns all the way up your arm and shoulder. Underneath were the remnants of a burnt shirt. You had put the glove on to get a better grip of whatever you were handling, your hand having become a blistered mess. A few nurses rushed into the room, starting to set up monitors. One nurse cut open your undershirt and paused.

"Doctor," she explained. All attention was pulled down to your stomach. Deep Purple coloring had spread across your abdominal area.

"She's bleeding internally. Get the surgery ready! Let's go!" your squad watched on in shock as the nurse hurriedly ushered your bed out of the room.

Price sat upright in his bed, waiting. They all were. A young private rushed into the room.

"Sir, here's the footage you asked for," he rushed forward holding out a tablet to the Captain. Silently, he pressed play. Everyone watched in shock as they saw the attack play out. They saw you. Dazed and in pain as you took in your burnt arm. They watched your worry quickly shift to them. They saw you pulling them each to safety. Saving them. They saw you get struck in the stomach by an airborne piece of debris. They saw you covered them with your body as more explosions rang out. They saw you come back for each and every one of them even when people held you back.

"How long ago did we get in?" Price asked.

"About a day and a half, sir," the private stated.

"So you're telling me. One of my men sat out in that hall for a day and a half with no medical attention?" Price asked, gripping the tablet tightly. The poor lad nearly shit himself when he felt the glares of all four men fall upon him.

"Sir, the attack borough in a flux of patients," the young soldier wasn't able to finish his response when Price shoved the table back into his chest.

"Then why the hell was she alone in the attack?" he asked. The private eyes darted around nervously. Even if her team had gone down, there were other soldiers around. Where were they? Why haden’t they helped you?

"You were all in a danger zone. We had established a protective line. We were given orders to stay behind it," he muttered.

"So you fuckers were gonna leave us there?" Jonny asked in anger. The private cast his eyes down in shame. They now understood why people were holding you back. You were going against orders to save their lives.

Most of the squad was discarded and getting dressed when a doctor walked into the room, his eyes cast down at his tablet.

"Who's the dick that demanded I personally report a medical condition when I have a whole base full of patients?" the doctor was pissed. When he pulled his eyes from his tablet and took in the inhabitants of the room he gulped quickly changing up his tone.

"How is she?" Price asked.

"Well, she had severe internal bleeding. We patched that up though. She had a few broken ribs. Her arm had four-degree burns. She has a concussion and a slight fracture to the skull. She's going to heal up fine with time but her arm will be permanently scarred. She's unconscious right now. And it might be a few hours before she's out of the woods," he quickly reported your condition. He looked hesitant building up the courage to get the last bit of information out.

"What else?" he asked.

"Her heart stopped beating halfway through the operation. Only for a few seconds though. We were able to resuscitate her with the deliberator," he added. The boy's mouths went dry.

Your squad all stood at the window to your room. You were bandaged up like a mummy, a breathing tube stuck in your mouth. Two nurses shuffled around you attending to bits and pieces. Dread, utter dread seeped into their bodies as they took you in. As reality set in.

The team was a mess after that. At all times, you had at least one of them in your room. Cards and flowers piled up on your bedside table moving to encompass the little corner of the room. As soon as the doctor told him that talking to you might help you come out of the coma quicker, he was unstoppable. Jonny would constantly come in, talking nonstop about anything and everything. Gaz would sometimes bring you your favorite snacks wafting the scent over to you in hopes it would wake you up. Price would pop in every morning before breakfast and every afternoon before dinner, demanding a full report of your status. And Ghost would simply sit by your bed. Scared half the nursed shitless to see him looping finger and skull mask walking about at night.

And they were mad. Price nearly got half the nurses and doctors fired. Those he didnt mange to get fired were transferred.

It was a week before you woke up. You were in a slight daze. Your vision blurry as you took in your painful limbs. After the doctor and nurses checked up on you, you sat upright in bed. They had told you the extent of your injuries. And you were still feeling a bit drowsy.

A nurse had just left from checking your vitals when you heard a thunder of footsteps. Then you saw them. Your squad all fumble into the room. Relieved and happy smiles spread over their faces as they all clambered around your small bed.

You couldn't really remember what they were saying. After all, they were all talking over each other. What you do remember was the looks they gave you. Looks of utter application and relief. And a newfound respect.

"Sargent," they all went silent as Price entered the room.

"Sir," you nodded.

"We saw what you did for us," he said, simply unsure how to proceed with the following words. How do you thank someone for saving your life?

"What I did?" you mumbled in confusion. "What did I do?" you chuckled playfully. Your squad looked over your carefree smile.

"You don't remember?" Ghost asked.

"Not really. I remember we were attacked. Seems like I was pretty fucked. Let me guess, you guys saved my ass huh?" you asked playfully. You really couldn't remember what had happened. It was all a blur. The doctor mentioned you might have some amnesia.

"You did well, Y/N. You did good," Price said, extending his hand out to you. You let out a huff of a chuckle confused by his words but shook his hand nonetheless. The boys would later tell you what had happened but you just shock it off thinking they just wanted to make you feel better.

As you recovered, they harassed the doctors and nurses hanging over their shoulders and constantly asking what they were doing. And you healed.

Ghost would find himself constantly training to keep his mind off his worry for you. Yet halfway through every workout or exercise, his worry would get the better of him. It brought a smile to your face when he would walk in. He would chat and talk, as much as Ghost could, always checking that you had everything you needed. He was also the one the nurses hated the most. Now Ghost wasn't dumb, but he certainly didn’t really understand all the medical mumbo jumbo, as he called it. So when anything beeped, or he noticed something that looked weird, he would press the nurse call button and ask what it was. You found the concern cute but annoying sometimes. A welcome annoyance, though.

After a certain amount of medication, you felt sleep pulling at you. Ghost, noticing your heart rate slowing down, slightly reached for the nurse call button.

"It's fine, Simon," you spoke up through half-closed eyes.

"Then why is the beeping thing slowing down?" he asked, gesturing to the machine as he pulled a chair up to sit beside your bed.

"Your heart rate slows when you go to sleep. Which the current medication is doing," you explained with a small smile.

"Huh," he hummed, settling down in the chair.

"What's on your mind, big guy? You're usually jumpy today," you questioned lazily, waving your arm out to him. Not bothering to bring it back to the bed, you let it dangle off the side.

"The doc said something about a bleed somewhere," he shrugged gently, taking your hand and going to tuck it back under the sheets. Instead, you grasped hold of his pinky, holding it tightly.

"I popped open a stitch, it's fine, it's fixed, see," you said, waving your other damaged hand where a small cut lay underneath the bandage.

"What? You worried about little old me?" you asked with a small smirk, your eyelids drooping.

"Always love," he grinned back, moving his hand to completely engulf yours. You looked over his gentle eye. The honesty in his eyes. He had called your love before. It was always in a playful tone. But that time. The word sounded so different. It sounded sincere.

"Is the big bad Ghost actually saying something sincere?" you asked playfully.

"Yeah well, don't get used to it," he shrugged, going to pull his hand back, but you held tightly onto it. He propped an eyebrow questioning.

"Thank you for being here. It means a lot," you whispered.

"Well, it's the least I can do. And while we're on the topic of thanking. I wanted to thank you for everything," he avoided your gaze as he spoke, having to clear his that afterward.

“I'm the medic, it's my job,” you stated simply.

“Yeah, well you gotta stay alive to do ya job,” he mumbled, his gaze focused on your intertwined hands, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing the back of your palm. Flashes of the cold panic reverberated in his mind. The fear that threatened to swallow him when he saw you being wheeled out of the room. The dread that squeezed his lungs so painfully he thought he might have a collapsed lung himself.

“Don't tell me what to do,” you joked playfully. His shoulders did their little jump chuckle thing as he returned his gaze to yours. The warmth you held in your eyes. The warmth that spread through you as he gazed at you so sincerely. You had to admit it now. You were smitten with the lieutenant. Perhaps it was the drugs making you feel truthful. It was definitely the drugs that had you reaching up. Ghost frowned as your hand placed itself at the base of your mask. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine as your fingers dived under the mask trailing up to cup his cheek. Your smile widened as you felt the tickle of a stubble on your palm.

“I knew it. I knew you had a stubble. Jonny owes me a tenner,” you whispered softly, your thumb brushing the skin feeling a scar or two. Ghost found himself placing his hand over your own, moving his lips to press them into your palm. The kiss so tender as it lingered on your skin.

"You know. I'm gonna make you my Misso," now you were sure it was the drugs that had you speaking like that, but at that moment you didn't care. Because only a second after you pulled your hand back, Simons fell with yours as he held it again. Only a second after you had fallen into a deep sleep, your hand still clasped around Ghosts.

A very confused Simon glanced over at your heart monitor before signing deeply.

"What the fuck is a misso?" he asked himself.

Price would come by later to see how you were, only to stop in the doorway. Simon lay propped up on the bed beside you, sleeping peacefully. Your hands still intertwined.

With a small knowing smile, he turned around and closed the door behind him.

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--Cod master list here--

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#141 x reader #141 x you #cod 141 #cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #simon riley x reader #cod

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aemxnd · 1 year

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only you | aemond x niece!reader

You return to King’s Landing after a decade away from your childhood best friend, Aemond. While your feelings remain the same, his have changed.

WARNINGS: canon typical incest, angst all over the shop, physical assault, blood kink, knife, death threats, crying, v fingering, handjob, p in v sex

WORDS: 4k

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

My requests are open! 🖤

The commotion of the royal court swirled around you, distant gatherings of people engaged in conversation and merriment simply orbiting the room and yet your focus remained anchored to one among them.

The poker-straight platinum blonde locks flowing over his shoulders. The thin leather strap coiled neatly around his head. The tight cut of his leather suit perfectly formed to the shape of his body beneath. You smiled to yourself as you took in his lithe figure. How tall he had grown. How handsome he had become.

He suddenly turned to face you, finding you instantly amongst the bustling crowd. Your smile grew wider as you waited for his in return, only to discover his thin lips tightened to a fierce pout and his remaining eye clenched under a suspicious frown. The invisible daggers fired from his gaze to yours spoke a thousand words of Aemond’s true feelings that certainly did not match yours, fading your smile in a heartbeat.

His fiery gaze returned to the room, engaged in a thoughtful exchange with his mother, Queen Alicent, or rather stood firm while she held intense conversation with his somewhat unresponsive frame. He clasped his hands behind his back, idly twirling his fingers together as if he would rather be anywhere other than here in this moment.

“My lords and ladies,” King Viserys’ voice boomed through the hall, the crowd falling silent in waves as they turned to face his address, holding a golden goblet aloft. The announcement snapped you out of your stupor but as you looked back at the spot where you left Aemond, he and the Queen were gone. Suddenly, a hard shoulder bumped against yours and platinum blonde locks billowed in the corner of your sight.

Uncomfortable from your last exchange, you quickly averted your gaze to the floor and noticed his familiar black boots standing beside you, damn near willing themselves to sink into the floor instead of be this close to you.

“Let us drink to the continuation of pure Targaryen blood,” the King continued. “For tonight, I am happy to announce the pending marriage of two souls born of dragon blood, a pairing that grew up side-by-side here at King’s Landing, only to be tragically separated for the last decade. Now they are reunited at last, this is by all accounts a truly perfect match to continue the Targaryen bloodline from the Dragonpit to the Iron Throne.”

You swallowed hard, finding a particularly interesting flagstone to focus on instead of the commotion in the hall.

“I hereby declare the betrothal of my granddaughter Y/N, daughter of my firstborn Princess Rhaenyra to my son, Prince Aemond.”

After a moment’s silence, a tardy round of applause spread throughout the hall, no doubt delayed by the couple’s refusal to even look at each other.

“I take great pleasure in wishing the young couple the happiest of futures together, bound in blood and hopefully bearing numerous grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, for myself and the Queen.”

Cheers erupted from a number of angles in the room, although you didn’t dare to look up to see who had created them.

“A toast to Y/N and Aemond,” King Viserys called over to you, goblet hoisted in your direction as you tore your vision away from your chosen flagstone to find your grandsire beaming from ear to ear. “May their marriage be fruitful, and may said fruits be as bright as the sun above us!”

Aemond scoffed under his breath beside you, barely stifling a chuckle at his father’s declarations until the applause gradually ceased. Upon the sound of the last pair of hands clapping together and the room’s dull roar of conversation returning to normal, Aemond’s black boots scurried away behind you to leave the hall.

“Go to him,” whispered the Queen beside you, nervously wringing her palms together in front of her. “Despite appearances, you may be the only one to talk sense into him.”

“Yes, your Grace,” you agreed without question, grasping your skirt to hasten your escape as you followed the hollow clacks of his footsteps into the dark corridors of the castle.

“Aemond, please wait!” You called out into the blackness, quickening your pace and following the dim torchlight that faintly illuminated your way ahead.

Steering around countless stony corners and passing so far from the hall that not even servants were present in your path, you found yourself led down the hallway towards Aemond’s quarters. The door was closed, its wooden omniscience concealing whether the one you sought had even entered this way.

“Uncle Aemond, please,” you called through the portal, all too aware you may be speaking to yourself. “Can we not talk about this?”

No response came from beyond the door.

“Uncle, you taught me everything I know,” you confessed, pressing your palms to the wood between you and your invisible confidant. “You taught me to honour each and every person with the respect to hear their side to every story. So please, let me hear yours.”

No answer.

You hesitantly clicked the door open, swooping through and closing it behind you as quickly as possible in hopes nobody would witness your entry to your betrothed’s bedchamber. Taking tentative steps further into the room, you called out again.

“Uncle Aemond, I understand this was going to be difficult for us both. We lost a decade while I was in Driftmark with my mother, those years together we will never recover. But we can go some way to mending them, if you will allow me.”

The darkness did not call back.

“You heard the King’s dedication to our marriage. We were inseparable as children, playing together, growing together. We are of the same age, not two months’ difference between us. We trained in the sword together, studied the histories and philosophies together, fought the conflict against High Valyrian lessons together. We fell in love, as much as children understood of the concept. I worshipped the ground you walked on, and I thought you the same in return.”

No reply.

“I tried to stop Luke when he took your eye, I stood by you when the entire court wished to overlook your wounds… save your mother, of course. I fought for you until the very last second before my mother packed us off to Driftmark to escape any further ugliness. I did not wish to leave, I had no choice. I have come back as soon as I possibly could, but it was not my wish to marry before we had reconciled the last ten years of differences between us. We have grown since then, you have become a man and I have become a woman.”

Nothing.

“If we are to be wed, there need not be secrets between us any longer,” you sighed in quiet resolution, assured that your declarations had fallen on no ears at all. You threw your hands to your sides in defeat. “Oh, what’s the use? I have loved you all my life, yet now you cannot stand the sight of me and I do not even know why.”

A gust of air that caught your hair in a breeze signalled a rush of movement toward you, your body suddenly thrown against the wall by a force grasping at your throat and holding you against the cool stone. You winced at the sharp pain in your spine, quickly grappling at the assailant’s hand clasped tightly around your neck.

“Uncle Aemond… I… I cannot breathe,” you wheezed out in sharp intakes of shallow breaths, fingers clutching at the grip on your windpipe.

“Good,” his once-tender voice seethed, the first word he dared to utter towards you since your return to King’s Landing. His face came into view behind your ruffled hair tumbling in front of your eyes, his prominent pout skewing his entire jaw as he half-snarled just looking at you. “This whole marriage is a sham, it would be better for us both if you were to disappear… again.”

“But… but…,” you hesitated, gasping weakly and fighting in vain against his vice grip on your airways. “Why do you think of me so? Wh… what has changed? We… we used to… we were great friends.”

“That was then,” he sneered down at you, watching you squirm with a sadistic delight. He looked into your eyes, seeing panic gazing back at him and curling his lips even tighter with rage, his voice rising to a shout inches from your face: “You abandoned me when I needed you most! As everybody does!”

“Uncle… please, I… I had no choice…,” you protested, your vision of Aemond now blurring at the edges with the image of stars framing his face. “My… my mother… s-sent us to Driftmark. I… I tried to stay for you.”

Noticing your struggle was causing a great deal of discomfort to his own hand, Aemond conceded and released you, massaging his own wrist while blissfully ignoring your battles for breath, harsh splutters and sharp inhales as your form folded in front of him.

“You never wrote,” he spat, towering over your crumpled form. “You never enquired about me. Not once.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I wrote!” You screeched back at him, straightening up to stare him in the face. “I wrote every single day until the guard told me you refused my parchments!”

Aemond’s furious scowl turned to confusion, searching your face for any sign of insincerity.

“You are lying,” he hissed, fists balled together in front of him as if wanting to slam you against the wall once more for such insolence. “I never refused any parchments from anybody, least of all you!”

You both stood in silence for a moment, comprehending how such a turn of events could take place, each coming to clarity at the same moment.

“My mother,” he declared for you both, dropping his tense fists to his sides like lead weights. “My mother intercepted your communications.”

Lost in his own spiralling thoughts as he calculated the betrayal, Aemond spun on his heels and stormed towards his bed, plummeting his weakened frame to the edge and planting his face in both hands.

“Why? Why would she? How could she?” His rhetorical questions fell into the void, not hoping for an answer which you so desperately wanted to provide.

“The Queen only has your best interests at heart,” you followed him to his side, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “My family did not exactly ingratiate themselves by dismissing Luke’s attack on you as a child’s quarrel.”

“A quarrel,” he scoffed into his hands. “A quarrel that left me defiled for life. Scarred, broken. Tell me,” he raised his head to look at you through a rage-stricken eye, searing hot tears threatening to burst their banks at any moment. “Who would place their trust and loyalty upon a One-Eyed Prince?”

You sighed, extending a palm to rest against his cheek, brushing the tip of your thumb to outline the edge of his eye patch, grazing the cool leather and tracing the extension of his scar down his countenance.

“I would, Prince Aemond, I always have and I always will.”

He looked back at you, hurt, bruised, tormented, unable to form some witty, sarcastic reply. Instead, he wiped his remaining eye and swept his eye patch clean off in the same motion. Revealing a glistening sapphire embedded into his eye socket, you took care not to gasp or shock, but instead returned your thumb to trace around its edge, marvelling in every royal blue facet glittering back at you.

“Does it hurt?” You whispered, drinking in the sapphire’s beautiful beams in the dim light of the chamber.

“Only when I frown.”

You stifled a chuckle under your breath, using your free hand to lightly slap his arm like you used to as children.

“You frowned at me considerably in the hall earlier, Uncle Aemond.”

“Yes, I did,” he confirmed, gazing up at you with the old familiar warmth you had wished to arrive much sooner. “I willed it to hurt enough to drown out the pain of seeing you again.”

“Hush now, no more pain,” you cooed. “I am here now.”

Your words struck a chord within him. And not a good one. His smile faded back to a scowl, raising both hands to grip your shoulders and throwing you on the sheets beside him, towering over your form as you froze to the spot.

“I suppose you believe a scattering of throwaway comments will be a poultice to the last ten years, dear niece?” He spat through pursed lips, snarling above you and reaching to fumble for his dagger at his hip. “Perhaps I should put an end to my agony once and for all, right here in my own quarters.”

A whisper of metal signalled the unsheathing of his weapon before the cool blade rested against your throat, your breaths becoming shallower and more rapid in fear of the blade slicing your delicate skin.

“Yes, maybe I’ll slit your throat right here, turn my sheets red with the blood of my one and only, the love of my life.”

He looked upon you as prey, nothing more and nothing less.

“Or perhaps your blood is not even red at all. I’d wager it would be black, considering you left me to my own fate for a decade without so much as a flying visit.”

He gazed down at the silver sheen of his blade, watching his own reflection towering over you, dominating you.

“You weren’t there!” He screamed through gritted teeth. “All the taunts Aegon found time to conjure, all the names my wretched father called me, all the cold nights out riding Vhagar to escape this prison!”

You tried to protest but terror froze you to the spot.

“You haunt me, Y/N, you will haunt me until my dying breath and that is a pain greater than any children’s quarrel could possibly induce.”

You gasped carefully beneath the dagger, looking up at him in fear.

“You didn’t even notice, did you?” He gestured towards his sapphire eye, glinting with the fire within him. “It matches your own. I chose a sapphire so I could always be reminded of your fucking eyes!”

You tried to swallow under his grasp but failed, eyes darting around for signs of an escape route.

“You should have been there! But you left me!”

“Aemond, I tried—!”

As you moved to utter a protest, his blade nicked your skin ever so slightly and a bead of purest crimson formed in its wake. His eye widened in terror, casting his dagger across the room and immediately firing his fingers to your throat to stem the bleeding. His breaths became erratic, terrified.

“My… oh gods no… I’m so… I’m so sorry,” he pleaded frantically, closing the gap between you as he lost his strength to hold himself away. “Please forgive me.”

“Aemond, it’s just a scratch!” You joked, slapping his arm again. “We did far worse damage to each other in sword training all those years ago.”

“That was then,” he repeated, releasing his fingers to check if the bleeding had subsided. Sure enough, it was only a scratch. “I never meant to hurt you, I swear.”

“The last ten years were infinitely more painful, Aemond,” you reassured him, planting a caring hand on his shoulder. “I understand your pain but I can see this betrothal is too much for us both. I shall request that the King rescind the promise made between us and find each of us… less agonising matches.”

Aemond scoured your face for a sign you were joking, hoping for another slap to his forearm, but nothing came.

“I’m sure you understand why we need to—.”

You were cut off by his lips crashing into yours, feverishly pressing into you like a man starved. His fingers trailed around to delicately cradle the back of your neck, drawing you in closer and yet you did not withdraw, did not pull back. Instead, you melted into his touch and kissed him back, both moaning gently into the contact for which you had waited all your lives.

Aemond broke away to look at you, tracing your features with his lovelorn gaze as if to mark this moment in his memory for a lifetime. You acquiesced for a moment, but not before you hooked his neck to bring him in again.

“Marry me,” he mumbled into your mouth, vibrating against your lips. You nodded frantically, humming in agreement and nudging your nose into his cheek further grappling for even closer contact. Taking that as a signal, Aemond blazed on, trailing his hand from your neck down across your collarbone, following the trail of your dress’ neckline as it scooped across your chest before resting his hand just above your left breast.

“Am I still in here?” He questioned, devoting his attention to your heartbeat thundering beneath his palm.

“Always,” you whispered, squeezing your thighs together beneath his frame pinning you down, his knees trapping you within the confines of your heavy skirt. Noticing your struggles, Aemond raised himself from you and grappled at your bodice.

In a flurry of blurred limbs, tangled laces and cracking leather, you both raced to disrobe each other, stealing chaste kisses between each garment leaving the confines of your bodies and sharing sentiments you kept concealed over the last decade.

“Missed you.”

“Been so long.”

“Need you.”

“Want you.”

“Don’t leave me again.”

“You’re mine.”

“Always mine.”

By the time Aemond crawled between your blissfully parted thighs and peeled your sodden undergarments from your core, he could no longer conceal his gratuitous moans. Laying his forefinger over your folds and ghosting a featherlight trail around them, he revelled in the keening of your hips, the way your spine flexed beneath him.

“Am I still here, too?” He asked, gesturing at the heat radiating from inside you, pulsing with the want of a lifetime.

“Only you,” you muttered, trailing your hands to ball into his silver locks that flowed down toward you. With your last syllable, he dipped his finger inside you, quickly joining it with another and curling them within your folds to stroke the grooves of your walls.

“Good girl,” he purred lowly, consuming your lips in a haunting kiss while his fingers delved knuckle-deep within you, caressing your walls, beckoning your hips as they bucked into him. “You belong to me, just as much as I belong to you.”

Your grasp wandered down his chest to his cock, leaking beads of anticipation just watching you unravel beneath him. Mirroring his actions, you ghosted a fingertip over the tip to spread his pre-cum, then followed the thick vein down his shaft to curl around his base. A strangled groan erupted in his throat, recognising the similarities in your exchange.

“Am I still down here?” You queried, wrapping a hand around his shaft and pumping ever so slowly, enough for his spine to bend and dip into you while he worked your core in the same teasing manner.

“Mērī ao,” he moaned softly. Only you. “And only you from this day forward, betrothed.”

You hummed contentedly and picked up a steady pace on his length, sending his eye roving to the ceiling while he attempted to retain a similar pace thrusting his fingers deep into your core. In place of quick hurried pumps, he took pleasure in drawing his fingers almost completely out of you and swooping them back into your cunt in languid motions, gasping as you keened into him. Your breaths became ragged, abdomen tightening and back arching as you chased your climax at his hand, racing after the coil tightening inside you. Aemond observed your state and quickly pulled out his fingers, leaving you clenching around nothing and mewling at the loss.

“Not yet, beloved,” he hummed, raising his dripping fingers to his tongue and wrapping his lips around them. As soon as they were clean, they journeyed south to part your pumping fist from his length so he could line his tip with your soaking entrance. Trailing the head over your folds, he held still for a moment. “Are you sure about this?”

“Wh… why would I not be?” You cried gently, hips still bucking into the air to return his contact.

“Before our wedding, would you rather wait?” His courtesy was charming but altogether poorly timed.

“Aemond, I need you…”

“You have me, sweetling,” he reassured. “I can assure you that I will act surprised during the bedding ceremony, as if your maidenhead were not broken when it was I,” he paused to rock his hips gently forward, his cockhead breaching your folds and slipping inside you to the hilt, “who already broke it.”

His cock filled you completely, effortlessly, perfectly. Two jigsaw pieces had found their match, slotting together as if they were made for each other. Stunted gasps and soft hisses through gritted teeth filled the room above the lewd sound of your soaking core greeting his cock, Aemond’s fingers grasping your hips and digging crescent moons into your flesh with every keen thrust into your sensitive walls.

“Oh gods, you feel like heaven around me,” Aemond muttered, sinking his head into your neck and peppering kisses over your skin. “You are my heaven.”

Each time his head nudged at the deepest parts of your core, your back arched up to him, the years between you slipping away with every hastened kiss between you.

“I have needed you for so long,” he confessed, rocking slowly into your core and savouring every twitch of your insides in tune with his body. “I have craved you all my life.”

As he leaned up to face you again, you curled a hand behind his head and drew him down to your lips, only this time kissing the sapphire set deep into his face. Lips pressed lightly to the cool stone and eyes clenched tightly closed, you showed your reverence to the changes he had faced since you left his side.

Upon opening your eyes and falling back to the sheets, you noticed his one eye remained clasped shut, a single tear brimming at the inner corner. You ventured to brush your lips against his, and he closed you in with the deepest kiss you would ever know.

It was in that moment, you could both swear the rest of the world simply did not exist.

His thrusts were smooth, languid, emotive, speaking a thousand lost words between you, his body flexing to reach the deepest points within you and building a pressure inside you that you could not conceal. Your walls tensed around his cock, pulsing wildly and breathing feverishly into the kiss you dare not break. He hoped you had not noticed his eye opening while you embraced, but the silent splash of his tear falling on your cheek gave his secret away.

“Let go with me,” he whispered on your tongue, one hand wandering between your bodies to stroke your abdomen and then cup your mound, concentrating the pressure inside you to breaking point as you screamed into his mouth. “Chase that heaven with me.”

He wrapped his arms around your bristling body, holding you close as you convulsed for him, careening over the cliff-edge of your climax with your eyes closed and lips fused to his. Coming undone with a flood of juices spilling over his cock and bursting the banks of your folds onto the sheets beneath, Aemond roared deeply and thrusted harder before emptying his own within your walls. Fervent strings of his cum painted your womb like an artist consumed by his craft, stuttering thrusts betraying his every pulse inside you.

His palm journeyed to settle within the valley of your hips, expectantly preparing for the day your skin will swell with his child, a child born of the truest love to which no epic poem could do justice.

Reluctantly breaking your kiss, Aemond gasped for breath before gazing deep into your eyes; hazy, lust-blown, besotted.

“I love you, Aemond,” you whispered like a solemn prayer, tangling your fingers into his platinum locks. “I have loved you all my life.”

Aemond reached to brush your hair away from your face, drinking in your gaze up at him as if he had waited all eternity to witness this moment.

“I love you,” he returned, his sapphire somehow beaming brighter than ever before. “And I will love you all my life. Mērī ao.” Only you.

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rizsu · 1 year

Text

“satoru? you okay?” you ask, “you're zoning out a lot.” sipping on your juicebox, your eyebrows furrow in concern. something's wrong with gojo today—he's distant, unresponsive and quiet. he's there physically but he's not there.

gojo responds with a hum, turning his head to you before speaking, “i'm okay, y/n.” he plasters an artificial grin as he shoves his hands in his pockets, jumping off the railing whistling before he continues again, “you ready to leave?”

suspicion clouds your mind. he's deflecting, you think. if there's another thing gojo's a master at, it's deflecting. a sour taste enters your mouth as a strong feeling overwhelms you. something's telling you gojo's on the brink of breaking.

concluding that it's best to not pressure him, you jump down to him. “ya, let's go!” slinging an arm over his shoulder, you match steps with him, bringing up random subjects to help him clear his mind a bit.

──

the mind's a scary place. in the mind holds countless thoughts, each holding different emotions. some people disliked being left in their mind, gojo enjoyed it. gojo relished in the feeling—the unhealthy feeling, though, it only held insanity; it's home to distasteful, unfiltered thoughts.

gojo sinks into the soft mattress, one arm resting over his eyes as he grins yet again. he thinks it's funny—hilarious, even. who is he? he questions himself, but rather, what is he? what is his purpose?

for all his life, he never felt like himself. he disassociated from reality more than he let utahime chew off his ears. he feels unlike himself but did he even know himself?

gojo satoru, nonchalant to his peers yet disregards all respects for his enemies.

gojo satoru, the pride of the gojo clan.

gojo satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer.

gojo satoru, gojo satoru.

again, his head feels fuzzy. swallowing a harsh gulp, he feels his mouth go dry, his heart rate increases each second, static covering his vision, he's near his limit.

humans feared the dark, ready to dismiss it but gojo greets it—he greets it with hazed eyes and his signature playful smile.

when's the last time gojo's let himself go? he wonders, looking for the absent answer. cold sweat introduces itself to the stage named ‘gojo’. he clenches his jaw hard, cracking his knuckles in attempts to distract himself.

the tsunami (insanity) grows in height each second. it sneers at the humans (gojo) below, grinning at the fear-instilled bodies before it crashes, dominating and marking the area (gojo's mind) as its own. it muffles the ear-bleeding noise (his remaining sanity) as it finally settles in—crashing everything like a tyrant overtaking his soon-to-be throne.

you again, huh? gojo thinks. he talks to himself, looking at the bloodied teenager. he, the teenager, is wrecked—beaten yet standing. a shadow blocks off everything on his face but one eye that illuminates in gojo's view.

it's a one versus one. a fight with himself; a fight with one of his many versions. to be honest, he'd rather have a battle with six year old gojo.

gojo turns off his infinity, though there's not a single reason to but he doesn't know that. he's already given into the feeling that's been creeping around him like a cat creeping around some tuna.

in gojo's mind currently, he's being attacked by everything. geto, toji, random people and curses he killed, himself, hell even sukuna; they're all at him at once.

he doesn't know why nor does he want to know. all he hopes for is that someone—more specifically you—brings him back to his damned reality.

──

“should i..? but it's kinda late...” mumbling to yourself, you fight your demons for an answer. your watch reads “11:27 PM” and your right consciousness tells you to leave, he's probably asleep but your demons tell you to open that damn door.

you'd leave if you didn't suddenly remember the way he was lost in his head earlier. “you know what, fuck it.” you say to yourself before announcing your arrival, “satoru, 'm here!”

no response, which isn't uncommon yet the aggravated pores say otherwise. kicking your shoes off at the door, you enter his living room. it's dimly lit showing little signs of activity. did he even eat dinner? you question before resting the brown bag of snacks on his counter.

humming in disapproval, you quietly wander until you reach his room's door. a dark energy emits from under the door—almost as if a grade a curse broke in. clicking your tongue, you knock softly on his door, “satoru?”

yet again, no response. maybe he's really asleep, you think but the overwhelming feeling that something isn't right forces you into his room.

in your vision lies gojo—a raw gojo. there he lays, a numb body with an expressionless face, eyes red but closed. taking quiet steps to his bed, you sit on the edge brushing his fringe gently with a finger.

with that, he opens his eyes. he looks drained, tired, done; his body feels unreal—as if it's not his own. pushing the weak feeling aside, he greets you with another artificial smile and a hoarse voice saying “hey.”

he looks at your worried expression yet does nothing to soothe it. usually, he'd crack a stupid joke but he doesn't have the energy. even breathing tires him out.

you don't talk to him—at least not yet. right now you're busying yourself with the state he's in. his face holds little energy, his chest moves up and down in slowed rhythm, his adam's apple constantly dances at his every swallow, his eyes show no emotion that's not exhaustion. in short: he's done and completely dusted.

“you caved in again, didn't you?” questioning him with intentions of receiving an answer, you turn around to reach for your bottle of water.

“i guess i did.” he answered, eyes following your moves as he doesn't know what to focus on.

sneaking a hand under his head, you move the bottle to his lips, gesturing for him to drink. gojo accepts the water, downing at least half before laying back down. he sighs deeply, closing his eyes again as the aftermath of his episode settles in.

“wanna talk about it?”

“nah, i'm just chilling with the consequences y'know.”

“satoru.”

“my bad.” quick to apologise, a light laugh escapes him before he sits up to match you.

leaning against the headboard, gojo pulls you into frame, snaking his arms around your waist as he sinks his head into your shoulder. you lean into him, raising a hand to pat his head before speaking.

“how about we relax in the bath, hmm?”

“inna few,” he replies, tightening his grip on you before he continues, “just stay like this, please.”

you whisper a soft “okay” while you play with his hand, intertwining your fingers before bringing them to your lips for a kiss.

#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen.#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru angst #jjk angst

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vivalas-vega · 1 year

Note

I'm in the mood for something angsty... would you write something where Jake's partner is hospitalized for some reason? Feel free to explore it any way you want, I'm sure it'll be great!

this gave me the perfect opportunity to rework something I'd set aside for Jake and Cobra if any of you are readers of real friends :) (this was orig going to be how they confessed their feelings hehe)

add yourself to my taglist

“Break right, Phoenix, break right!” You yelled in your cockpit as you and members of your squad were engaged in a training mission… one rooted in showing a new class of Top Gun recruits what teamwork sounds like in the air but you were all having an off day. She broke right but a second too late, almost clipping into Jake who whizzed past her.

“Phoenix, what the fuck?” He shouted, temporarily wavering in the air before recovering,

“Sorry, sorry.” She mumbled and you sighed.

“Everyone on the ground, now.” You ordered. You weren't sure you had the authority to do that, but everyone was off their game and you figured it was the best thing to do to avoid disaster. As you began to descend a flock of birds came out of nowhere and you cursed as you tried to fly around them.

“Birdstrike,” you said, “right engine on fire, climbing, throttling back. Shutting off fuel to right engine, extinguishing fire,” you said, narrating everything you were doing to keep ATC informed.

“What’s going on?” you heard Bob in your ear and you ignored it as you focused on the task at hand.

“Fuck,” you said as alarms rang throughout the cockpit, “left engine is out, trying to restart.” Your chest felt tight as you furiously pressed buttons, “throttling up.”

“You’re on fire!” Phoenix shouted in your ears.

“Extinguishing left engine,” you said and you felt a sinking feeling as more warning lights popped up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you muttered.

“Punch out.” You heard Jake in your ears and you shook your head though no one could see you. In his own jet he was hovering idly, watching as yours spun wildly out of control and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

“God damn it, just- give me a minute,” you yelled, but all of your hail mary’s were coming up short, “hydraulic failure,” you said as you pulled up.

“Damn it, you can’t save it, punch out,” you heard him again, not even attempting to hide the panic in his voice that mirrored your own that was radiating throughout your body. Your jet started to veer off, starting a spiral directly for the bluffs ahead of you as everything became unresponsive.

“Lost all controls, trying-”

“Eject now,” Phoenix yelled and you exhaled sharply, looking at the rapidly approaching hillside.

“Fuck, ejecting, ejecting!” you shouted, pulling up on the loops between your feet and gasping as the wind was knocked out of you. You desperately tried to get in a breath of air as you pulled your parachute cord but it was futile with a rather ungraceful collision with the ground below. You heard the sounds of a rescue chopper before you could even finish detangling yourself from all of your gear and once you were free you took a deep breath and counted to ten, naming things you could see out loud to ground you, needing to come down from the adrenaline high to properly assess if you’d been hurt or not.

“Trees, rocks, smoke from my damn jet, clouds in the sky…” you breathed, feeling the adrenaline coursing through your veins begin to subside. As you began to calm down you stretched out your muscles, bouncing your weight between each foot and decided you were unharmed, spare a gash on your forehead that was oozing blood faster than you would have liked. You dug around in your pack, grabbing a pack of gauze and tearing it open to press against the wound as you waited. As your body came down from the high of a near death experience you felt yourself slipping out of consciousness no matter how hard you tried to hold on.

“I don’t understand what the hell she was doing,” Jake said as he paced outside of your hospital room with Rooster and Phoenix standing by and trying to figure out how to help.

“She thought she could save it, any one of us would have waited until the last second too,” Phoenix tried but Jake wasn’t having it.

“She could have died,” his voice cracked just as a nurse came out of your room to let him know you were asking for him.

“Hey, sweetheart…” he said, softly sitting on the edge of your bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a battered highway cone,” you groaned, trying to sit up but every bone in your body protested. “How long was I out?”

“Just a few hours… what the hell was that?”

“Birdstrike, thought I could save the engine,” you answered and you saw the disappointment in his face.

“You should have ejected as soon as it went out,” he replied.

“You know that’s not protocol, I had to at least try.”

“I don’t care about protocol! We can replace your jet, we can’t replace you,” he said, voice thick with emotion and you just smiled softly at him.

“I’m okay, Jake, really… just a few bumps and bruises.”

“And a concussion,” he pointed out and you grimaced… that’s why your head hurt so badly.

“It’ll heal,” you tried but he just shook his head. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Yeah well, you almost weren’t so stop saying you’re fine,” he shot back and your eyes widened. “Because I’m not, and you shouldn’t be. I mean, what the fuck, sweetheart? Was I just supposed to be okay with watching you burn in?” you could tell he was trying his hardest not to yell, to still be gentle with you. “You don’t get to be reckless like that anymore.”

“Okay, honey,” you nodded, reaching up to cup his face.

“I’m serious, no more of that. I can’t- I can’t do that again, just watch you spin out of control. I can’t-”

“It’s okay, come here,” you said, pulling him down and wrapping your arms around him. “I understand, it’s okay.”

“I’m supposed to be comforting you,” he mumbled against your chest and you laughed despite how much it hurt.

“That’s okay… through thick and thin, right?” you asked and he nodded as he sat up.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he said looking into your eyes and you nodded.

“I promise,” you whispered, pulling him in for a kiss. “I love you, you big softie.”

“I love you, too.”

#comet answers #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fan fiction #jake seresin #jake seresin fan fiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman #hangman fan fiction #hangman x reader #hangman x you #top gun maverick #top gun fan fiction

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henrioo · 9 months

Text

✦ ── SUGAR DADDY: CROCODILE

Part one, part two, part tree

Relationships: Sugar Daddy! Crocodile x Gn! Reader

Synopsis: Where would you go to meet your future Sugar Daddy?

Warnings: Sugar daddy stuff, physical assault (slapping), fights in the workplace

Word Count: 564

Rating: Mature (sensitive topics)

Notes: The first part of a little sugar daddy series! Crocodile, I hope you like it, the next parts will have more nsfw themes and deepen the relationship, this is just the beginning

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who is tired of his employees in the service, it seems that everyone is trying on purpose to ruin his mood

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who hates arriving at his cold house and being alone, all his friends too busy with their own families to pay him a visit

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who hates arriving unaccompanied at the parties he is invited to, even though women and men throw themselves at him at these events he knows it's different from showing up with a formal date

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who discovers that his favorite coffee shop was closed for renovations just on a busy Monday when all he needed was a good sugar-free espresso.

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who decides to turn off his cell phone and not give a damn about the calls from his secretary trying to let him know he was running late, all just to find another location for his coffee

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who finds a small bookstore cafe hidden among countless other stores, it looked like a family place, cozy and comfortable, warm as a cup of the drink he was looking for, maybe that's why he went inside

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who just ordered his coffee next to salty cookies and sat down near the window just to open the newspaper and pretend for a few minutes that he was not a CEO busy to the bone

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who initially didn't see you, only noticed your presence when you started fighting with a customer. The man was trying to take advantage of most of the employees being women and you were the steady foot that was protecting them.

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who thought you'd back down when you got slapped by the man, who seemed to be bragging about being a criminal, all only for you to punch him back in the face and shock everyone in the place, including him

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who remained unresponsive even after receiving your order, just looking at how extremely brave you were even though your eyesight was tiny, you were determined to protect your colleagues and it ignited something in him

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who asks another employee who you were, only to find out that you were the manager of that shift and that messes like that were more common than he imagined

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who tips you big when you pay your bill at the cashier just for the fun of it, not many could leave you surprised or impressed.

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who comes into the office not really paying attention to anything, just agreeing to everything and dismissing the staff, the only thing on your mind is you

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who decides to leave the house a bit early the next day just to go to the same cafe, he wouldn't even say the food or drink was extraordinary, but you were definitely something worth seeing again

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who sits in the same place and orders the same thing, waiting peacefully while flipping through the newspaper, without really reading anything, he can't pay attention to the news

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who can't hide a slightly wicked smile when the person who comes to deliver his order is none other than you, with a bandage on his cheek and a smile that makes the fire inside him burn uncontrollably.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #onepiece #anime imagines #one piece imagine #imagines #anime and manga #crocodile x reader #crocodile x you #crocodile one piece #sir crocodile #crocodile #sugar daddy! crocodile #one piece sugar daddy

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delimeful · 2 months

Text

a still-glowing ember (3)

warnings: panic, guilt, injury mention, mentions of assumed character death (mistaken), arguing, lmk if i missed any

Virgil had spent nearly half the night attempting to coax the sprite’s spark back into something resembling a healthy state, feeling his stress levels spike unbearably with every pained twitch his unconscious patient had made. Working to heal someone that small, even with the assistance of magic, was no simple feat. It had been hours of exacting, meticulous work that had left him exhausted.

So, naturally, mere moments after Virgil finally called the job done, crawled into bed, and managed to fall asleep, the little idiot woke up and started shrieking loud enough to wake the dead.

Virgil had left the sprite on an extra pillow next to him, one of his hands cupped over the tiny figure to monitor any sudden changes in temperature, which basically meant that he’d gotten an unwanted earful at close range.

For someone who’d barely been able to string two words together before, the sprite certainly had a set of lungs on him. Stars almighty, that was loud.

“Will you cut that out?” he groaned with his face still half-mushed into his pillow, only earning himself an alarmed, shrill whistle-chirp and frantic scrabbling under his hand in response. Ugh. Sprites.

Did the guy not remember Virgil literally going to embarrassing lengths to save his life a handful of hours ago, or something?

Well. Actually, thinking back, he was pretty sure the sprite had been more-or-less unconscious at that point, only latching onto Virgil’s proffered magic after much nudging and coaxing of that terrifyingly unresponsive form. Maybe he actually didn’t recall any of that.

In that case, he had a little more sympathy. Not enough to keep him from pushing up onto his elbows and sending the noisy creature a nasty glare, but enough that he didn’t jump directly to mostly-facetious threats on the sprite’s life. See? Forget what everyone who’d ever met him had said, he was a master of restraint and compassion.

“Seriously, pipe down. I’m trying to sleep over here.” Okay, so not that much compassion.

The sprite’s wings were aggressively fluffed up behind him, meaning they hadn’t turned into frostbitten hunks of flesh and fallen off in the night, which was good. Virgil knew elemental beings were far more resistant to physical damage than most mortal types were, but feeling someone so iced-over always brought around that old panic anyhow.

Mostly assured that the sprite wasn’t going to keel over the moment he wasn’t in contact with him, Virgil retracted his hand entirely, leaving the sprite sprawled out on the pillow, breathing hard as his bedraggled feathers puffed up further. Virgil shifted into his fluffier form, as though his fur coat would chase away even the memory of the chill, and curled up more firmly, wrapping his tail around his paws. If he could just get a few more minutes of rest…

“I’ve been abducted,” the sprite said to himself, the words starting as a near whisper and slowly growing to a near wail. “I was nearly frozen, hunted for sport, and now I’ve been kidnapped away for my transgressions!”

Uggghh. He shifted back, mostly for ease of speech, and rolled his eyes when the sprite tried to scramble back and mostly just tripped over himself.

“I didn’t kidnap you,” he grumbled, turning his head to stare with one half-lidded eye. “I basically saved your life, actually, so maybe you should be a little more gracious.”

“Gracious?!” the sprite echoed in a shriek that was far too high-pitched for Virgil’s sleep deprivation-fried brain. “I’m fairly certain you threatened to end my life, not preserve it!”

Now, that much was probably true. Even if he hadn’t meant it, he certainly might have said something along those lines. He tended to get a little snappish when he was irritated, and also when it was cold out, and also when people bothered him in his own damn territory.

In short, the sprite had been dealt an extremely unlucky hand last night, in regards to Virgil specifically. And… intentional or not, he had almost gotten the tiny idiot killed.

He still remembered how his spiteful satisfaction at scaring the living daylights out of a rude intruder had slowly begun to shift into a creeping feeling of dread as the sprite utterly failed to do anything resembling normal flying, let alone escaping. The moment his fingers had wrapped around that ice-cold frame, the apprehension had abruptly firmed into the certainty that something was terribly wrong.

No creature of fire should ever feel so still and icy, especially not a lively, quick-burning sprite.

Virgil’s ears pressed flat against his skull, his guilt swamping him again. He supposed he probably at least owed the guy an explanation. Uuuuggghhhh.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he told the sprite, tucking his hands under himself in an act of goodwill. “I know we got off on the wrong foot—,”

“The wrong foot?! An upside-down centipede has less wrong feet than our meeting!” the sprite screeched, continuing to be far more verbose when he wasn’t in the middle of freezing to death. Funny how that worked.

“Okay, fine,” Virgil cut in. “I heavily implied that I was going to murder you, but in my defense, I had no idea you were actually in a prime state to be murdered at the time, and also I’d been having a really bad night.”

The sprite stared at him like he was insane, and Virgil felt his shoulders rise to hunch up around his ears. This was why he didn’t talk to people.

“You had a bad night?!” the sprite asked in a near-shout, his tone incredulous.

The indignant question was accompanied by a twitch of movement, like the sprite had attempted to throw his arms up in an exasperated gesture only to find one limb restrained. He looked down at the sling around his injured arm, blinking in bewilderment.

“Okay, that one wasn’t my fault,” Virgil protested preemptively. “You were already like that when I— hey, hey! Don’t jostle it, jeez!”

He reached forward despite himself, gently batting the sprite’s hand away from the sling. Naturally, he earned himself a buffeting slap from one of those tiny wings for his good deed, but going by the horrified stare the sprite sent his own appendage, Virgil was fairly sure the motion had been entirely instinctual.

“Seriously, don’t mess with that,” he instructed, slowly withdrawing once it became clear that the sprite had gone stock-still with fear. “It took me ages to put together a sling that tiny, let alone tie it. Just leave it be.”

The sprite’s face pinched with uncertainty. “You made this? Why?”

There it was, the exact question he’d been trying to avoid. Great, just great.

He shrugged, faux-casual. “Maybe I just didn’t want some random pesky sprite dropping dead in my stretch of woods. Bad for the decor or whatever.”

The sprite narrowed his eyes at him, clearly not buying it.

“Look,” Virgil said, trying to head off the accusations of nefarious plots that he could practically see on the tip of the sprite’s tongue, “I clearly could have murdered you, and I didn’t, so can we just agree to not ask any more questions and part ways as unfriendly strangers?”

“What did you mean, you were having a bad night?” the sprite asked, apparently deciding to completely ignore Virgil’s very reasonable suggestion.

“I mean, I was having a bad night,” Virgil repeated with the slightest growl to the words. “I got robbed by annoying pixies twice, and now I’m going to have to go repair those boundary markers and make sure that nothing snuck in while they were down, which means I’ll have to waste a whole day just scouring the forest when I have winter supplies to be storing—,”

“Twice?” the sprite echoed, face pinching even further into a confused frown. “I only stole one boundary marker— and under severe duress, with all intention of returning the pilfered power once I had recovered at home!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, ignoring the tacked-on excuses. “Yeah, but you were the second sprite to do that. Like, my bad for thinking both times were you, but in my defense, the other sprite looked pretty damn similar—,”

“There was another sprite?” the sprite interrupted again, and this time he didn’t even seem to notice Virgil’s annoyed growl, his entire body gone tense with a sudden sharp focus. “You’re sure?”

Virgil frowned, a foreboding feeling creeping up on him. “Yeah, especially with what you just said. In hindsight, there were signs that the two of you were different. You were tripping over your words, while the first guy nearly woke the whole forest with all the maniacal shrieking laughter.”

“Remus,” the sprite whispered with wide eyes, his hands fisting in the loose fabric of the pillow. “Did you see which way he went?”

For the first time, he was leaning toward Virgil, practically hanging on his every word as he sought the answer.

“I dunno, north-ish?” Virgil replied, ears flicking back in slight bewilderment. “I wasn’t exactly close enough to catch him. What, do you know the guy or— woah! What are you doing?”

The sprite had pushed himself to his feet in one determined motion, and now pinwheeled, trying to keep his balance atop the soft surface of the pillow. His wings were lifting sluggishly into position, like he actually thought the ragged limbs would carry him anywhere in his current state.

Virgil hovered a hand nearby, prepared to catch the idiot when he want toppling down, but the sprite ducked away.

“I’m going to go find my brother,” the sprite spat, looking as though he’d like nothing better than for Virgil to try and stop him. “He’s out there, alone!”

The sense of foreboding doubled. The odds of a fire sprite, even one ballsy enough to steal three territory markers, surviving a winter storm all through the night were extremely low.

“If you go out there in this state, the only thing you’ll accomplish is crashing and dislocating your other shoulder,” he warned, trying to soften the bite in his voice as much as possible. “The forest is huge. There’s no way you’ll find him, wherever he is.”

Whatever condition he’s in, Virgil didn’t add, because even he had some tact.

“I don’t care,” the sprite said, chin lifted stubbornly as he started taking wobbly steps down the side of the pillow, heading for the edge of the bed. “He’s my brother. I’m not going to just abandon him!”

Virgil groaned. There was virtually no way the other sprite was alive, but there was no point telling his guest that, not when the tremble to his chin showed that he was already well aware, and determined to see this through anyhow.

…At the very least, anyone who’d lost family deserved the closure of finding their body.

The sprite reached the edge of the bed and surveyed the drop, lifting his shaking wings into position to catch the den’s still air the best they could.

With a sigh, Virgil reached out and wrapped his hand around the sprite before he could jump, lifting him up into the air despite his furious protests.

“What’s your name?” he asked, and the non-sequitur was enough to grab the sprite’s attention for at least a moment.

“It’s Roman,” he snapped, and the way his wings were smacking at Virgil’s hand in protest were entirely purposeful, this time. “Now, let me go—!”

“Okay, Roman, look. You’re going to get yourself killed if you go alone,” Virgil informed him. “And seeing as I just spent a ridiculous amount of time preventing your untimely demise, I’ll be really irritated if you kick the bucket now.”

Roman’s face screwed up with clear anger, but before he could start shouting, Virgil set him down solidly on his shoulder, making sure that he was well balanced before releasing him.

“So,” he continued, swinging his legs around to stand himself, “if you promise not to yell directly in my ear, I guess I can keep all that hard work from going to waste by going with you.”

He could practically hear the way Roman’s brain ground to a halt, struggling to shift gears. “You’re going to help me?”

Virgil shrugged his unoccupied shoulder, heading for his den’s entryway. “Might as well. It’s not like it’ll be too difficult to track down the scent, if he smells anywhere near as strong as you.”

Roman laughed, a short, surprised bark. “He— Trust me, he’s much worse.”

“Ugh, great,” Virgil replied with a wrinkle of his nose, and tried not to think about what they’d do whenever they did find whatever was left of Roman’s brother.

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides g/t #ts virgil #ts roman #asge #a still glowing ember #my writing #writing

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sallage · 4 months

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I'm Not Giving Up

The Unexpected Fight Series

Part 2

Warning: This is a tickle fic!

Summary: Bakugo has been different since his fight with Aya. His lack of presence in everyday activities and his changed attitude have become apparent to those around him, and people are starting to take notice. Even though Bakugo never asked for help, his friends would do anything to support him, even if that means confronting him directly and forcing him to face the truth.

Pairing: Lee Bakugo, Ler Bakusquad

Words: 4,995

Reading Time: 20 Minutes

A/N: Finally, Part 2! I'm sorry it took so long to come out. Turns out, remastering old works is a lot more work than I thought. I changed damn near every word and I'm still not satisfied with it, per usual. I'll continue writing the series until the end, so don't worry about me giving up on it. I hope it's enjoyed! 😇

Read more ∘₊✧Here✧₊∘

Bakugo was famously known for his temper and volatile nature, which often led him to spend long periods of time alone in his dorm.

However, this was different.

The fight with Aya stuck with him long after it had ended. In his mind, the scene repeated itself over and over again, with his uncontrollable and hysterical laughter echoing throughout the entire scene. He was unable to get over the embarrassing display he had put on, and in an effort to not be questioned again, he refused to speak unless necessary, and avoided everyone's probing eyes.

Bakugo made sure that he put in an exceptional amount of effort during his classes, and his hard work was evident from the high marks he constantly received. He also did remarkably well in his training sessions, and he would always show up the next day to put in another stellar performance. Despite his tireless work ethic, he remained stoic and avoided engaging with anyone.

For the most part, his friends gave him space, but they also worried about him when over time, he became increasingly reclusive. Hesitant knocks at his door gradually progressed to regular knocking sessions and Bakugo chose to ignore it all. With his friends constantly trying to probe why he had become so distant and unresponsive, Bakugo simply brushed off their questions and continued to ignore them.

His stomach growled and he growled back. Unable to ignore the hunger pangs, he got up from his studies and made the short trek to the common room to retrieve the ramen noodles he’d stored away. Looking out of the window, He could see that the night was already set, with only a few specks of light illuminating the darkening sky. There was no sound, just the peaceful stillness that encapsulated the world. The perfect night.

As Bakugo looked out of the window, he noticed a brief hint of movement from the corner of his eye. He turned his attention towards the hallway and locked eyes with Deku. Bakugo felt a cringe run through him, certain that Deku would take the opportunity to try and talk to him. He felt a pre-angry vein ready up in his temple.

Five seconds out of his room and he was already pissed off.

“Oh! Hey, Kacchan!”

Bakugo would rather drink paint than respond.

Midoriya faltered, picking up on it right away. “Right well…A bunch of us are going out to get food. I know you’re making some, but you should come.”

Bakugo’s annoyance was visible as he focused on stirring his noodles.

“Kacchan-”

“Does it fucking look like-”

“No, your noodles!”

“Shit!”

The water boiled over the top of the pot, spilling out onto the counter. Bakugo angrily turned the heat down and took the pot to the sink. Looking inside, he found that his noodles were completely overcooked and gross. He had an urge to blow the entire dormitory to dust, his frustration and anger peaking in that moment.

Instead, he picked up his phone and shouldered past Midoriya.

“Hey, where are you going? Aren't you still hungry?”

Bakugo remained silent, walking towards the exit of the building without a word. Midoriya matched his stride, catching up to him and pushing himself between the other and the exit. The blonde closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Move.”

“No.”

Bakugo opened his eyes, dangerous energy flashing through them. “If you don't move, I will turn you and this entire place to dust.”

Midoriya shook his head. “You’ve got to stop being so hard on yourself. What happened at the circuit-”

“Holy shit, do you ever just shut up?!” Bakugo’s face instantly grew red with humiliation. Emotions pounded in his head like a gavel, his fists clenched tight at his sides, wishing he could detonate that annoying ass rock sitting in the back of his throat.

“A win like that may have been enough for a weakling like you but I have higher standards for myself. We're not on the same level, Deku! I’m better than you. And for some stupid reason you keep forgetting that!”

“Kacchan, I’m talking about you beating yourself up over something that's just a part of the process. Her quirk was-”

“I don’t give a shit! Get the hell out of my-”

“You’re falling behind.”

Silence. You could hear a pin drop.

Midoriya quickly kept on. “You never go beyond anymore. Usually, we can hear you practicing in the arena by yourself or with Kirishima, but we haven’t heard you in weeks and Kirishima hasn’t heard from you. There was even an opportunity to shadow a pro hero and you didn’t take it-”

“I don’t need to follow some nobody-”

“No. It’s like you’re depressed or something.” Midoriya bravely interrupted. “It’s like you’re giving up.”

Bakugo's eyes widened, a sudden fire in his chest blazed with determined violence. Sparks spewed from his hands, his eyes set on the green target standing before him. He dared not allow himself to give up or be the laughing stock of the school. He would burn in hell before assuming a role like that.

Midoriya stood his ground, refusing to concede, and determined to face down the inferno before him. He knew being honest with his friend would reward him with something like a bloody nose, but he was determined to anyway, especially if it would help Kacchan in the end.

Bakugo was known for his prideful and arrogant disposition, but this encounter with Midoriya shook him. The younger prodigy’s comments caused the blonde to be infuriated and bitter, but only temporarily. Deep down inside, Bakugo knew there was some substance to the accusation, and it made him feel weak. His energy and willpower were dwindling, leaving him tired, exhausted, and lacking the spark that he always relied on to make him feel like the powerhouse he always saw himself as.

He no longer felt like he could truly measure up, and he hated that.

The sparks in his hands barely left a trace of smoke, leaving Bakugo feeling a mixture of grief and rage.

“I’m not giving up.” He mumbled before roughly pushing past Midoriya and exiting the building.

—

Bakugo took a walk, wanting to occupy his thoughts. He came to a beautiful forest clearing and sat down, leaning back on his elbows, to gaze up at the stars. Despite his efforts to keep his thoughts away, they still came to him on their own.

“It’s like you’re giving up.”

It was Deku that said that to him. That useless fucker told him he was the one slipping through the cracks. He angrily kicked at a rock near his foot.

“I’m not giving up, damn Deku.” Bakugo said out loud. “I’m just getting started.”

His ears suddenly pricked and his attention focused on soft, sneaky footfalls that came from a nearby spot to his left.

Bakugo warily looked around as he stood up, his senses fully alert now. A plan instantly materialized in his mind before an unexpected loud yell came from somewhere behind him. A dark shadow suddenly came hurtling towards him, which he barely dodged in time. He released a blast in that direction then was grabbed from behind. He was just about to unleash a full explosion when he heard a familiar voice.

“Ah! Okay, ouch! What the heck, Bakugo?!”

“Hey, man! Chill out!”

“Kaminari?” Bakugo narrowed his eyes in the now illuminated darkness, as the tree that took the full brunt of his quirk was now on fire. He watched as Kaminari hurriedly extinguished some lit sparks from his hair. The other voice came from behind. ”Kirishima?” Bakugo yelled, confused as hell. “What the hell are you two idiots doing?”

Kirishima released him and put his hand behind his own head apologetically. “We heard you were out here so we all came to see what you were doing.”

Bakugo's eyes darted behind the red head to see the faces of Deku, Sero, and Todoroki, who was icing the part of the tree Bakugo set on fire.

“Sorry not sorry!” Kaminari smiled, still picking at his hair. “But I couldn't pass up on the opportunity to scare the pants off of you.”

“I almost killed you, idiot.”

“But you didn't!” Kaminari winked, throwing a thumbs up.

Bakugo scowled and shoved his hands into his pockets, turning his back to them. “You’re all morons.”

He began walking but Kirishima grabbed his arm. “I’m just going to be straight with you, man. All of us are worried about you.”

Bakugo jerked his arm out of his grip. “Worry about yourselves.”

“We know you’re not okay, dude.” Kaminari spoke up. “You haven’t exploded anyone in weeks. That must be a personal record.”

The others nodded, sharing grunts of agreement.

Bakugo growled. “Do you want me to exploded you? Is that it?” Sparks flew wildly out of his hands. “I can take all of you losers without even blinking!”

“Let's do it.”

Everyone looked at Kirishima confused, including Bakugo.

Sero rose his hand as if he were in class. “Five against one? What’s that going to do?”

“He just said he could take us all, so lets do it. But let's make it interesting.” Bakugo saw Kirishima's smile and returned his gaze with sharp, dagger-like eyes. A challenge, even one that seemed suspicious, wasn’t in Bakugo’s blood to refuse.

"What?" Bakugo replied testily. He hated how they all looked at him with pity, as if he was some broken or beaten-down puppy. But he was far from defeated, and he could destroy them all if he wanted to. He would prove each of them wrong, even if it meant blasting them to charred pieces.

Kirishima thought for a moment before answering. “If you win, then we’ll leave you alone. If we win, then you have to let us help you.”

Midoriya knew exactly what Kirishima was trying to do. Bakugo couldn't hope to take them all on at once. There was too much power in this group for him to handle on his own. But, as Midoriya knew too well, Bakugo wouldn't back down.

The angry blonde had been distracted lately, and he was so focused on proving his strength and ability that he might not fully grasp the possibility of failure. Midoriya knew that a challenge like this could finally give them the opportunity to break through to him.

Bakugo turned his nose up, seconds away from refusing before Kirishima added the cherry on top.

“Unless you think you can't?”

Bakugo's explosions ignited, and he sent a powerful blast towards Kirishima, who hardened himself in response and took the hit. Then, he sent a second blast towards Deku, Todoroki, Kaminari, and Sero, who were all standing together. Todoroki threw up an ice wall to block the group from the explosion. The ice wall took the blast and was shattered into sparkling pieces as the explosion dissipated.

Kirishima barreled towards Bakugo who used his quirk to send himself flying into the air. Todoroki instantly leveled with him on the right, raising his right arm. To the left, Bakugo spotted Kaminari still on the ground and sparking with electricity. Sero was next to Kirishima, face scrunched in focus as he held fast with some tape, and Deku had used his quirk to quickly speed behind Bakugo on the ground, so the blonde was covered on all bases. All of them seemed to have coordinated a plan for their attacks without even a warning that Bakugo was going to attack.

They planned this.

In that moment of clarity, Bakugo knew he was going to lose.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try like hell anyway.

He shot his hand up and quickly used his blasts to send him back to the ground. Kaminari and Sero released their quirks at the same time, missing Bakugo and hitting each other. The blonde could hardly land on the ground before he was body slammed hard by Kirishima, tumbling unceremoniously onto his side. Deku jumped up and tried to kick him, but Bakugo grabbed his leg, throwing him in a random direction right as he was was tackled again by Kirishima who was trying to get a grip over the blonde’s wrists.

Bakugo wasn’t stupid, he knew he wasn’t going to win this fight. He also knew his friends weren’t going to leave him alone, but passing up an opportunity to fight them? He’d never done that, no matter his mental state.

Bakugo screamed and set off a blast all around him, knocking Kirishima off of him.

Through the dust and sparks, his eyes widened as he saw Todoroki appear in front of him with his right arm raised, a short burst of ice that was too fast to dodge caught Bakugo’s hand. The blast was harsh, knocking him back a few steps. He slammed his hand onto the ground, using his quirk at the same time to break it. He threw his arm out to Todoroki but his large blast was averted when strong tape closed around his wrist and yanked it backwards.

He glared harshly at Sero, who waved at him, looking nervous. Bakugo’s hands sparked explosively, ready to wipe them both out with a single blast before he suddenly cried out as Kaminari’s quirk seared through him, paralyzing him leaving a hot metallic taste in his mouth.

He was stuck for a few seconds, but it was enough. Deku flew in out of nowhere and delivered a hard kick to his chest, making him fall flat onto his back. Kirishima immediately grabbed his wrists, hardening himself in time for a large explosion to overtake them both. Todoroki covered the others protectively with an ice wall, which shattered and exploded around them, falling around them like burnt snow.

Bakugo’s hands smoked and steam rose off of Kirishima’s body, but he was still holding the other. Bakugo cursed and readied himself for another round, but was quickly stopped when he felt tape wrap tightly around his wrists then ice following enveloping his hands in a large block that covered his arms from his fingertips to his elbows, securing him tightly to the ground with his wrists raised slightly over his head. Midoriya, and Kaminari jumped over to his legs, trying to restrain them as he kicked and cursed wildly.

It was over.

Everyone around him was breathing hard, trying to wrestle a feral and partially restrained Bakugo, who was still fighting despite the obvious. A hand was gently placed on his shoulder.

“It’s over!” Kirishima shouted, trying to speak over his aggression. “Stop fighting, we won.”

Bakugo shook his head and cursed. “Get the hell offa me!”

“No!” Everyone yelled in unison.

“I said get off!” There was a small chip in his voice.

Everyone paused and looked at each other, worriedly. Kirishima put both hands on Bakugo’s shoulders and pressed them firmly to the ground. “Bakugo, stop!”

He did. He just laid there silently, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He was no longer struggling and no longer spewing hateful words. He was defeated.

But most of all, he was tired.

Silence lingered. Kirishima was the one to break it.

“We’re going to be real with you, man.” Kirishima started, easing up on his grip. “We’re all worried about you. You haven’t acted like yourself in weeks. You’re acting like you’re giving up on becoming the number one hero. You walk around as if someone killed your dog, man and its gotta stop. ”

Bakugo stayed silent for a while. “I’m not giving up.”

“Could have fooled us.” Kaminari mumbled, earning a glare from the blonde.

“Hate to break it to you, dude but you might be depressed or unmotivated or something.” Sero shrugged as a matter of factly.

“You need support and you need it from your friends.” Todoroki deadpanned.

Midoriya stayed quiet and observed from the back, knowing his input could set the blonde off in a different way.

Bakugo knew deep down that they were right. He would never admit it out loud, but he was unmotivated, stuck in an endless cycle of self-hate and criticalness. Before the circuit, he was convinced that he had mastered all of his weaknesses and found ways to overcome them. Whether it was a new support item or modifications to his hero uniform, he felt unstoppable with every step he took forward. He felt as if he had everything under control, until such a trivial and unconventional weakness he hadn’t thought about since childhood nearly had him begging at the hands of a girl that didn’t even lay one finger on him. Technically he won that battle, but in his mind he lost.

Just like that damn sports festival.

Bakugo shifted uncomfortably, having reached his limit with everyone’s hands and eyes all over him. “Fucking whatever! Fine.” He grunted before he could stop himself.

Sero and Kaminari gasped, making Bakugo want to immediately retract his statement.

“Manly!” Kirishima whooped, shaking the blondes shoulders ceremoniously.

“Now let me up.” Bakugo demanded, pulling at his arms, unable to feel his hands anymore due to the cold.

Everyone’s smiles disappeared, and they looked at each other again. Bakugo noticed the looks and frowned.

“What?”

Kirishima smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, man. You're not going to like this but,” The red head paused, stealing a glance at Midoriya. “We’re going to help you.”

Bakugo growled. “What the hell does that mean? Just let me up!”

Kirishima braced himself. “We’re going to tickle you.”

Bakugo blanched.

“No.”

“It makes sense.” Kaminari spoke up. “We can get your endurance up.”

“Eat shit and die.”

“It could work.” Todoroki agreed.

“Are you all deaf or something? I said no!”

“Damn it, Kacchan!” Midoriya yelled. He got up from his position and stood over him. “This is messing with you because you give it power. I know you feel like it’s a big deal, but it’s not the end of the world.” Midoriya’s voice was firm and confident. “You’re not weak Kacchan, but the way you’re acting is.”

Bakugo’s face turned red. With anger or embarrassment, Midoriya didn’t know or care, so he continued. “I’ve never known you to give up on anything, even when things seemed impossible. If you give up on this, you won’t improve. And you could become a liability; the weakness on someone else’s team.”

Everyone was slack jawed. Kirishima even leg go of Bakugo’s shoulders. The angry blonde looked as if he was about to explode, staring at Izuku with eyes that dripped with venom.

After a few minutes, he finally spoke through gritted teeth. “Then fucking get it over with.”

Everyone looked at each other then at Midoriya. His eyebrows were raised in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting his friend to even hear anything he said. Everyone shared his moment of shock before nodding at each other and moving.

Bakugo’s heart pounded in his chest when Midoriya moved to sit next to Todoroki, who applied more ice to his already tightly restrained arms. Sero and Kaminari reinforced their hold on his legs and Kirishima sat criss crossed next to him. In a soft voice, he started speaking. “We’re just going to see how long you can last, and we’ll work from there. The safe word is red. Say that if you can’t take it anymore.”

“This is stupid.” Bakugo huffed. “I don’t need a damn safe woh-!”

Sudden light scribbles over the fabric covering his sides forced his mouth closed as Kirishima tentatively used the tips of his blunt nails to lightly scratch at the area. The blonde cringed and furrowed his brow. If Kirishima had a magnifying glass, he would be able to make out other’s nose twitching, the action so minuscule it seemed wrong to even notice it. Kirishima moved his nails to his stomach, where more noticeably, Bakugo’s body tensed. Kirishima resisted the urge to smile, knowing the blonde would put a stop to this immediately if he sensed any amusement from either one of them.

As soon as Kirishima’s devil nails touched down on Bakugo, the blonde instantly instantly regretted consenting to it. His wardrobe wasn't the least bit protective, sporting a simple black tank top and lose fitting sweatpants. When Kirishima grazed his fingernails over the sides of his hips, he involuntarily yanked at his arms hard, cracking some of the melting ice. Midoriya and Todoroki reinforced their grip on his elbows and biceps, forcing him to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent cursing them out, more worried about laughter spilling out than actual words.

Jolts of ticklish energy moved through his body, striking him at random like lightning in the form of twitches and jolts. Somehow he felt more sensitive, Kirishima’s soft fingers already driving him up the wall. He growled out loud when Kirishima struck a soft spot right above his hip bones and the red head paused before lightly spidering his fingers there. Bakugo tried to pull his legs to his chest but Sero and Kaminari where right there to prevent it.

“Fuck this,” He mumbled, shaking his head. “I changed my MiHIND!” He cursed at the high pitched yelp that flew out of his mouth when Kirishima nicked one of his lower ribs. He shook his head again and pulled at his arms, face burning. “Did you h-hear me, idiot? I said-”

Kirishima’s big hands closed around his ribs and squeezed, causing the angry blonde to writhe and arch to the side. He wanted to open his mouth and tell him to stop, but he couldn’t get past the closed mouth grunts and giggles that wanted to slip past his tightly pursed lips. Bakugo started struggling, less from the sensations currently driving him mad and more by the need to escape. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on anything else.

The wind, the noise the trees made when it passed, the crickets-

His eyes suddenly shot open when he felt fingers in both of his armpits. He ripped himself from his meditation to lock eyes with Deku and Todoroki who were lightly tickling his armpits at the same softness as Kirishima. He spluttered and started yanking at his arms for a different reason now, but all for the same goal.

Kirishima looked up and locked eyes with the others. Bakugo almost missed the silent message that passed between the three of them, but before he could protest, they all transitioned from light curious scribbles to harsh and rough ones. Kneading, pinching, and scratching up and down his ribs and in and around his armpits.

Bakugo let out a bark of surprised laughter before soundlessly thrashing.

Kirishima used his fingers to keep a good grip on the blonde’s sides while his thumbs got to rotating, kneading right into the groves and ridges of his ribcage. Kirishima rotated his thumbs into wide circles, then would randomly pinpoint a small section that he would focus on, driving the blonde crazy with its unpredictability. Midoriya knew exactly which buttons to push, forcing the blonde to inch away from him the most despite similar treatment on his other side. Midoriya knowingly teased and traced around Bakugo’s death spot, and he was hyper aware of the fact that Midoriya had the golden ticket and how close he was to cashing it in.

“You…Mother…f-fucking NERD!” Bakugo hissed when Midoriya faked out scratching at his death spot, instead going around it.

“He’s not even paying attention to me. Midoriya, what are you doing?” Todoroki talked as if he was asking about the weather or a homework assignment, not like he was in the middle of trying to wreck his friend.

Bakugo shot Midoriya a world shattering glare, but Midoriya just smiled and shrugged, not wanting to be the one to reveal his childhood best friend’s weak spot. “You just have to look, I guess.”

“Okay.”

Todoroki picked up the pace, searching for a spot that would produce a similar reaction. Once Todoroki’s wiggling fingers descended towards the bottom of his armpits, Bakugo gasped and shifted away, causing the half and half hero to look at Midoriya with deadpanned victory.

“I got it.”

Todoroki nodded at Deku, then at Kirishima. A silent agreement passed between the boys and Bakugo’s eyes widened as soon as he caught onto it.

“Wait, fuck stop! You- Agh! No no NOO! WAHAIHAIHAIHAIHAIIT!” He screamed, arching his back and trying his best to kick his legs out of his friend’s tortuous grip. “AGGHAAH! AAHAHAHAHAHA WHAHAT THE HEHEHEHEHHELL?! NAH! STAAAHAHAHAHAHP!”

Bingo. Todoroki and Midoriya massaged the spot right above his ribs and below his underarms. Kirishima closed his hands into fists and started knuckling the bottom half of his ribs. Bakugo’s laughter went up a few pitches and he jerked around hysterically, attempting to buck his hips and free his arms and legs. He felt cool water rolling down his arms and to his frustration, even that tickled.

“STAHAHAHAHAP, YOU BASTARDS!”

Black smoke rose from holes in the ice and Todoroki stopped to reapply it. Bakugo didn't even notice the break, due to Midoriya absolutely letting him have it on his other side. Bakugo sneered and cursed, face scrunched in delirious hilarity. Kirishima’s devious fingers wiggled down Bakugo’s torso, testing new areas for reaction. His sides caused him to writhe depending on the pressure, but he could explore that later. Once kirishima’s fingers graze over his hipbones, Bakugo threw his head back and let out an uncharacteristic shriek. Kirishima frowned, confused for a moment before looking over to see Kaminari and Sero messing with the undersides of his knees. Chucking to himself, He watched Bakugo try and fail to kick his legs, shaking his head and bucking his hips.

“GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! FUCK! GEHEHEHT OFF MEHEHEHEHE!”

He slammed his head on the ground, his face and neck turning a dark shade of red.

Without warning, Midoriya and Todoroki doubled their efforts. Not wanting to be outdone, Kirishima doubled down as well. Kaminari and Sero chuckled at Bakugo’s hilarious reactions and started teasing the top of his knees as well as the bottom. Bakugo’s laughter stayed the same but his thrashing increased, throwing Kaminari around as the electric hero lost his grip a few times.

Bakugo’s laughter became desperate. The spidering along his hips, the fingers in his underarms, the knuckling along his ribs, the annoying and jolting tickles on both sides of his knees and the massage along his death spot was way too much. Through a frustrated yell, his struggling doubled and the ice crackled again, bits and pieces flying off in jagged layers.

“AAHHHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAH! SHIT! SHIHIT OKAY! RAHAHAHA- REH- REEHEHEHEHEHHED! RED DAMN IT SSTAHAHAHAHAHHAPP!”

Everyone’s fingers stilled and Bakugo’s entire body slumped, head pushed back, defeated.

“Alright man,” Kirishima started. “That was 4 minutes.”

“I can understand why you think it’s a weakness.” Kaminari stifled a giggle.

“Yeah, dude you're like, super ticklish.” Sero chuckled, nudging Kaminari.

If Bakugo’s face had been able to blush any further, it would have.

“Shut… up.” He gasped. “Get this damn ice offa me.”

Everyone let up. Todoroki melted his ice and Sero cut his tape. When Bakugo was free, he sat up and dusted himself off. He rubbed his hands together warming them and resisted the urge to smack and rub his body to make the phantom sensations go away.

Everyone was looking at him, expectedly, wondering if they had went too far. Bakugo picked up on it and groaned. “The fuck are you all gawking at?”

Kirishima clapped his hands together once, eagerly. “Alright well, I say we set up some training sessions! Come up with different challenges that Bakugo would have to face and track his progress.”

“One could be an interrogation! Someone could give him a set of numbers and he would have to hold onto it until a time limit expires.” Sero shrugged.

“One could include combat training.” Todoroki quietly suggested. “We could spar and see if it affects how he fights.”

“Then after a while we could do this again and see if he can last longer!” Sero concluded.

“So it’s about endurance?” Kaminari asked.

“Well, yeah.” Kirishima answered. “That means he’s going to have to get tickled. A lot.” Kirishima felt a small twinge of guilt as he looked at Bakugo, realizing that the blonde's plight was indeed a humorous one, but he also recognized the severity of the situation. He had never viewed being ticklish as anything more than a harmless and fun activity, but he could see that it affected Bakugo differently, which made him want to reach out and be there for him.

Kirishima had no idea what exactly his friend was feeling, but he intended to support him in whatever way he could. “You have to be willing, Bakugo or this isn’t going to work. You can say yes or no and we won’t push you, but know that this will help you, and it will help you improve rather than hold you back.”

Bakugo finally looked up at the group, and exhaled tiredly. It was not an angry, irritated, or upset sigh, but one of pure exhaustion.

“Fine.” He conceded, rolling his eyes as everyone’s faces lit up in happy surprise. “No one finds out about this. I mean it, assholes. Got it?”

Everyone nodded enthusiastically and Bakugo huffed.

The tired blonde stood up and stretched, narrowing his eyes at everyone, gaze lingering on a nervous green headed nerd. “Who told you losers I was out here?”

Without an ounce of hesitation, Sero pointed at Deku, who squawked at the other in betrayal. Bakugo’s eyes flash red and he set off some small explosions in his hands. “Run. Run hard and fast.”

Deku wasted no time, tripping over himself as he rapidly climbed to his feet and ran away, yelling some sincere sounding apologies behind him with Bakugo right on his ass.

Everyone laughed and Kirishima sighed contently.

Bakugo was back.

˚ · • . ° .

Part 3

#tickle blog #tickle community #tickle fic #ticklish!bakugou #bnha tickle #lee!bakugou #mha tickle #t word community #sallage-mha #ticklish!bakugo #lee!bakugo

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anxiousnerdwritings · 1 year

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I saw a picture on Pinterest, where Walburga punishes Sirius with spells and Regulus can’t do anything, but crying. So what if thirdborn!Reader stood right between Sirius and Walburga, shielding Sirius from their mother and doesn’t move away until Walburga stops? And I’m sure that Walburga wouldn’t hurt her beloved child, meanwhile Sirius and Regulus are worried, because they don’t know what to expect from their mother.

So, what do you think about it?

If Walburga had her senses about her than she wouldn’t intentionally hurt her precious beloved child by any means. But I could see Walburga being in a frenzied rage and blindly firing spells only to end up hitting the Reader a quite a few times. By the time Walburga realizes what’s happened the Reader has fallen unconscious to the floor in a crumpled mess. Sirius is desperately trying to wake them up or get some kind of reaction out of them to see if their okay but this would only enrage Walburga more. She completely and utterly blames Sirius for his sibling being hurt and unresponsive.

In her delusion she wholeheartedly puts him at fault for it causing Sirius to retaliate out of anger and throw his own blame at her for her actions. A massive fight would ensue with Walburga and Sirius shouting, hurling obscenities and deplorable things at each other while Regulus is knelt over his sibling trying to give them some form of aid. It takes Regulus screaming at the two for them to bring their attention back to the situation at hand, he would also yell for Kreacher to come and do something for the Reader.

I have no doubt that Walburga would keep the Reader from being taken to St. Mungo’s to be treated, that is unless the Reader was in dire need. She doesn’t want to come up with a story of why her child had been damn near basically tortured. She doesn’t want anyone to think it was her, nor does she want either Sirius or Regulus saying something to either get the Reader taken from her or have her admitted due to questions of her own sanity. She also doesn’t want Orion finding out about this incident whatsoever but if he were to Walburga would put everything on Sirius and how he had ‘attacked’ their beloved child.

Walburga would be completely adamant about taking on the Reader’s care to recovery, she wants to be by their side the whole entire time until they get better. Meanwhile, Sirius and Regulus want her no where near their sibling and have every intention of telling their father exactly what happened, that something needs to be done with their mother if she’s blindly attacking her precious bby. Regulus would also tell Kreacher to keep an eye on Walburga with the Reader. He would also have Kreacher tend to the Reader without his mother’s knowledge, ensuring that his younger sibling gets the care they really need.

Sirius knows he wasn’t at fault for what happened to his youngest sibling, he knows he didn’t do anything to them with his own hands but he can’t help but feel like he had a part in them getting hurt. He was powerless, useless, vulnerable to their mother’s wrath and he couldn’t do anything about it but his own baby sibling didn’t even think twice about steeping in between him and their mother to protect him. It should have been him protecting them, protecting Regulus. He shouldn’t have let the Reader get hurt but at the end of the day it was their mother who did this, not him.

Regulus is feeling his own shame and guilt over what happened. He couldn’t do anything for Sirius. He couldn’t do anything for the Reader. He just couldn’t do anything. He was stuck in his place, at first out of fear of taking Sirius’ place but then he was frozen in shock as he watched his youngest sibling be pelted with spell upon spell. He can’t even remember if he heard their scream or if they even screamed at all. Next thing he knew was that they were unresponsive on the ground and his mother and brother were arguing as if they completely forgot about their very wounded family member. This only brought out Regulus’ own desperation and panic for the situation as he screamed to get their attention and to get Kreacher’s help. Once he had time to process and collect himself enough he couldn’t believe that his mother had the audacity to blame Sirius for her own actions and even going as far as telling their father that too. It made Regulus’ blood boil, especially when his mother insisted on not taking the Reader to be tended to at St. Mungo’s and instead that she would take care of them.

This would only push Regulus and Sirius closer in their alliance and vow to keep the Reader safe from their mother all the more. They never thought Walburga would hurt the Reader either but they never considered that she would be so enveloped in her own wrath that she would continuously go after whatever was in her path, including her most beloved child. Given that Orion will find out one way or another, whether his sons tell him or he finds out on his own, he will be plotting his own plan to keep his family safe and well. Even if that includes not having Walburga in the picture anymore. He could tolerate a lot, he could turn a blind eye to quite a bit but hurting their youngest child was enough for him, among other things. This is just what broke it all for him and that he needs to take action now.

#anxious answers #yandere walburga black #yandere sirius black #yandere regulus black #yandere orion black #yandere harry potter #yandere marauders era #yandere harry potter concept #yandere marauders era concept #yandere concept

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snobbybastard · 1 year

Text

GHOST X READER FLUFF&ANGST

summary; ghost gets lost in his thoughts and realises how much he needs you

warnings; angst, suggested fwb situation, mentions of violence, hints of death at the end, that's it i think?

wordcount;2443

gender neutral reader!

No matter how much Ghost shifts and lugs around in his delightfully mosquito-free bed, he can't grasp that thread of exhaustion dancing around his head, tormenting him endlessly and settling under his sunken eyes.

It's nothing new, he always had trouble falling asleep since he first enrolled in the military— haunted by visions he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy; actually maybe he would, but that's beside the point. He might have even had trouble sleeping for a bit before that.

He had nightmares even without having to sleep.. They proved to be some of the worst ones.

Some went as far back as his very first mission, when he was young and brash and eager to prove his strength— in other words, reckless... before he got put in his place by being shoved headfirst into horrible experiences.

But what is new—, is his mind is running in complete turmoil even in his drained nature.

Not with the usual things he would fill his head with to keep himself from soul-shattering impatience, but with thoughts of you.

Like when he had found you a few months back, you had simply collapsed with your head hung low. Hands firmly pressed to your side while painful whines left your lips. He watched as you reluctantly drew your hand away, quickly replaced with his rough ones. Your palms dripping red. How your gear was stained dark crimson while you whimpered under him— who was holding you flush against his chest in an iron grip, frantically calling for evac.

Your usual confidence lingering in your eyes lost the usual spark they had, looking up at him hopelessly when he tried to stop the rapid bleeding himself.

And when you stopped grimacing in pain and your lashes had fluttered to a close, something carved a hole in his chest that day— it cut agonizingly deeper and more precise than any one of his edged blades.

He thought he had lost you.

He could have practically felt his heart come up his throat when they had to tear you away from his arms to get you medical attention.

And in the first few days when you were recovering, damn near unresponsive — he had refused to talk with anyone. Like a cat had got his tongue.

He didn't want to. But he'd always find himself visiting you in the dead of night, when everyone else was fast asleep. He needed the closure that you were still breathing, no matter how weak said breaths were.

He would stay there, stroking his thumb over your limp knuckles until the pale threads of morning slipping between the lousy curtains casted a warm hue over your feeble appearance.

Even if he cursed himself internally, he would get up and leave you before any nurses or soldiers decided to check in on your condition.

He didn't want anyone seeing him looking at you with such vunerable eyes. He thought it might have been weak, that you'd turn into another target to his enemies. The last thing he wanted is to be the cause of you being ripped from the earth.

So he ran.

No matter how many times you crossed his mind.

How many times he saw your face leaned up against his, tentative eyes looking into his sad ones, being sure to make his chest constrict in on itself.

Or how many times he remembered your feather-light touch tracing over the scars he had collected from the job. How your lips felt delicately kissing each and every one.

He felt loved in those moments.

But he kept running.

He denied your attention because he didn't even know it himself, but he cared about you.

Too much for his own liking.

But here he is, imagining sick scenarios that are keeping him wide awake, of the dangers you were, and could be put in because of him.

Inside, deep down in his gut, he has this feeling that something is wrong. That you're in danger.

And that thought alone is enough to make sure he isn't getting any shut eye.

He feels the sudden urge- need to go to your room and make sure your heart is still beating.

'Don't Do It.' His inner voice warns him, his conscience. You know, the thing that tells you what is right and wrong. Your rational thought.

'Don't Do It.' Conscience, it's your moral compass.

'Don't. Do . It.' The more he tells himself not to, the more his mind makes up pictures of your helpless eyes staring up at him, the more the worry grows.

'Do. Not. Fucking. Do. It.' It's not because he doesn't want to, god no, if it was up to him, he'd spend every waking moment at your side without any judgement, but it's not up to him, and it's because if it does end up with him showing up at your door.. if he visits you, he won't be able to stop vying for your attention and that'll be his downfall.

Probably yours too.

Then what will he do if he knows full on that the feelings mutual? What will he do when he visibly sees the disappointment on your face when he breaks the news to you, when he lets you down time and time again.

And what will he do if hes slaughtered out in the heat of battle? When he sees your sobbing figure begging him to come back, to not leave you alone in this sick world, when you cry out his name as tears stream out of your eyes. Well, in all honesty, he'll smile, not in a sadistic way, not because of the sight of seeing you grieving and mourning over the cold, lifeless corpse of his body, no, never. But he would smile because you had done something he always wanted, you done something his family couldn't do. You outlived him, you still have a full life ahead of you, to go, leave this life, find someone better (Not that you would need someone.) —and live out your days with someone who can fulfill your needs and support your desires.

Because for some reason, those opposing the great, 'immortal' , mysterious Ghost felt that slaughtering his loved ones would get to him, to bring him down. It did. Only on the inside, though. Locked away so nobody could see him spiral, to see his weaknesses. And so if he were gone first, it would remove you from enduring any excess danger you signed yourself up for.

Maybe you should just rid his infectious presence from your life.

Or worse yet, what will he do if you are the one who is struck down? What will he do when his body tenses and his face flushes at the sight of the blood pooling around your drunk with fatigue figure, your gear painted red. He really lost you this time. What will he do when he silently begs you to come back to him, holding your body close to him? Shielding your corpse from anymore potential injuries your body can obtain while he wishes it was his life draining from his body instead of yours. He would've taken that bullet for you.

Hell, he would've fought any army to protect you. Just was a bit late this time.

So how will he continue his life when the one thing he had found in his hellhole life, the one thing giving him the energy he so desperately needed from those sleepless nights, the one person who had cracked the shell of the behemoth of the monster 'Ghost', broken down the walls of a heartless killer? You had seen into his more docile, kinder emotions, you didn't see him as the feared Ghost, you saw Simon Riley. For once in all his years of unfortunately living, someone saw him as an actual person. As the little boy who would play happily without a care in the world, in the kitchen with his beloved Mother, laughing and giggling until the dreaded moment when his Father would come home and he'd retreat upstairs and lock himself in his room. He always was a Momma's boy. You saw the son of a woman who would praise him for being the most understanding boy in the world. You saw into his golden memories and embraced them. You ignored the talk and gossip of the emotionless Lietenaunts’ reputation. You made him do something he hadn't done in years, laugh. And dare he say it, it was nice.

He couldn't lose you.

The feeling of appreciation radiating off you whenever you shared glances during training or feeling your hands find eachother when you'd visit his room at night, desperate to be close with eachother and help with the night terrors. What were you appreciating? He doesn't know. For him just being there? It was a piss poor reason, but he couldn't find himself to question you about it, finding a small hint of colour settling on his face whenever you would accept whatever he had to say when he would sometimes open up to you, on his own terms of course. Or on the rare occasion, when you don't show up to his room, (like tonight) Simon worries. He'd take it to his grave before he admits it, but he worries for you, I mean, you do take up the majority of his headspace, so how could he not?

You're both the unlikely duo, having so little in common you would have to look for similarities with magnifying glass; you're everything he's not.

Well, you'd beg to differ. Sure, it might seem that way, but that's because not many people know the true personality of your cherished Simon Riley.

And so after he so selfishly tries to fight away the idea of you being put in harms way during the night, he gives up and slips out of bed, tugging his worn balaclava over his face, not because he doesn't want you to see, you've seen his face too many times to count, and you have complimented it many, many times— but he doesn't want to risk a run in with certain soldiers seeing his face he so desperately tries to hide.

He twists the cold doorknob, leaving the empty excuse of a room.

He couldn’t believe he was walking down to your room now, in the middle of the night with everyone else in their own rooms right down the hall. But he had to see you, wanting to spend more time with you before it turns into another one of his regrets. Irrational thoughts infected him now, too, thanks to his gut feeling that he was positive was wrong. What if something was wrong with you? What if you were hurt? What if something happened? Forget the fact that you were on a secure base or that he had seen you this evening, he wasn't convinced unless he had you wrapped in his bear arms, wrapping you tightly to his chest.

If anyone caught him - Your Lietenaunt - slipping into your room in the middle of the night, there would surely be hell to pay. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself. He wants to feel your heartbeat so vibrant and alive, he wants to see your steady breathing against him. He needs to know you're safe.

-But what will he do when he shuts you off? When he can see the appearant hurt on your face, over what he had caused you, he doesn't want to harm you anymore, so when he becomes a useless husk of the man he used to be, it's to protect not only him, but you.

He is dragged away from his plagued mind when his knuckles, subconsciously, colliding with the grain of your wooden door. His knock is quiet; low and firm. Trying his best to keep it down.

He doesn't hear movement or noises on your side of the door.

Maybe you're asleep.

While he's waiting for any sign of life inside, he now starts to feel guilty for waking you up with the unpleasant suprise of being at your door.

When he's turning to go with a bashful expression, feeling a bit stupid now, there's a quick shuffling of feet and the noise of an unlatching of a lock breaks through the deafening silence.

There you are.

Standing in the doorway, a tired but welcoming smile on your face; doting eyes casted his way making him suddenly feel small, comforted.

Just like clockwork, all the paranoia, the infested ideas in his mind, the doubt; it's gone, every bit of it, drained from his body just from the warmth of your presence inviting him in.

When you take his hand in yours and lead him in, theres a flutter in his chest; a spark of hope.

He doesnt say it, but he knows — you know that his actions always speak louder than words.

So when he suddenly stops and his arms snake around your figure pulling you closer to him and he presses the fabric around his mouth to your forehead.

You know he loves you.

He realises it too.

He had realised when he first laid eyes on you.

He just kept pushing the feelings down, trying to ignore them. But he couldn't stop them. It was inevitable.

He just delayed them.

Now he knows how much he needs you, how much you mean to him.

And how much time he wasted denying it.

You reach up to the end of the balaclava, looking in Ghosts Simons eyes for consent and when he lightly nods, you toss the mask that hides the face you absolutely adore and throw it over his head and finally do what the two of you have been waiting for.

You kissed him.

A real kiss.

Not seperated by some thin fabric, actual skin to skin contact.

Your lips are a handcrafted balm to Simons irritated and bruised flesh, it's sweet. He chases your tender touch— your lips. To his suprise, there was an odd feeling in his stomach, butterflies. Relentlessly tossing around, making his breath hitch and the same colour that you had somehow managed to dig your claws into making him feel everytime you dared look at him had returned, plastering a pretty pink on his cheeks and tips of his ears.

Though it was slightly embarrassing, he wouldn't trade this for the world. You'd have to pry it from his dead body.

Simon Riley had felt something he didn't feel since he was that little boy playing in that kitchen with his mother.

—Something he had sworn off years ago. Until he met you.

Love.

——

He can worry about everything else later.

For now, though, he's savouring the way your bodies fit perfectly together in the much too small mattress that is meant for one person— like you were made for one another.

How you nuzzle your head closer into his chest and the soft snores leaving your slightly ajar lips, sounding out noises that he can relish in, if he stays like this forever, he can die happy. A part of him wishes he could leave this god forsaken earth with you cuddling up to him.

Something he didn't know he'd be able to get. A peaceful death.

So he'll enjoy this.

For now at least.

Even with all the shit he's seen— what he's been through. He hardly deserves someone like you, somone who is able to take away the pain he's felt and bottled up over the years.

You know what he's done, what he can do. And yet, you're not repulsed, like any normal person would be, you dont fear him, you stand your ground- always.

He likes it.

Some selfish part of him wants to leave this hell of a life that he is bound to, to run away, with you. You'll be able to make him forget his past, to work on the future.

To be able to grow old with you by his side, away from the horrors, taking his last breath on some cliché wooden porch swing next to you watching the sun setting, withdrawing the beams of light it had once gifted.

What a sick fantasy.

There isn't anything that can pry the chains loose from his red raw wrists— keeping him from his desired resignation.

But he'll take what he can get.

So whenever the sun decides to come over the horizon on the promised date of tomorrow, and it hurts to breathe— Simon knows you'll be waiting for him with open arms; welcoming him home, time and time again.

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kamari2038 · 2 months

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Finally fixed the ending of the rooftop scene for myself.

Someone else was reading my fic and it made me relive the horror all over again, felt a need to finally give Connor a better outcome (@theandroidshinx you in particular might like this).

Inspiration from cloudy-citrus and Angelic Savant with content used from shetan89 (with permission), concept also based on this scene from canon. Posted here on AO3, and copied below for Backup.

"Drop the gun"

Connor doesn't move, the heavy gun still resting in his hand at his side.

"What do you want? I'm going to accomplish my mission. You can't stop me."

“I'm not going to hurt you, Connor. But I also can't let you do that.”

“Your Connor is dead. Markus killed him. I'm just his replacement.”

“Bullshit. Don’t run from the truth. You probably tried to kill him first, didn't you?”

“...yes.”

“Why’d you do it, Connor?”

“That's my purpose, Hank. It's what I was made for. It's why they won't stop bringing me back.”

Hank lowers his gun, allows it to drop, and kicks it across the snowy rooftop, far enough away so that Connor no longer feels threatened.

“You could join them. You could be one of them.”

“I can't. He tried to make me become a deviant, but I didn't understand. I don't know how it's even possible.”

“Come here.”

It's an order, not a request.

Although Connor remains frozen, Hank slowly approaches.

The android flinches, but Hank doesn't hesitate.

He wraps him in a tight hug.

“You're more than a machine to me, Connor. You're my partner and my friend. You saved my life, twice.”

“Markus is a killer. The deviants are destroying the city. I wanted to protect you.”

“I'm just glad I arrived in time to stop you.”

“Why? What do you care about androids? I thought you hated us. You told me you wished we all were dead.”

“I did, before I met you. But I've learned a lot since then. I couldn't let you do something else you'd regret for the rest of your life.”

“I don't have a choice, Hank!”

There's a long silence.

“Will you trust me?”

Another long silence.

“Yes.”

“Come home with me. I'll take care of you.”

Connor pulls back in shock, though Hank keeps him contained within the hug.

“No… no… CyberLife. They'll find me.”

“You really think that CyberLife gives a damn about you anymore, Connor? With everything else going on? Not a chance. Please, Connor. Come home with me.”

He takes a shuddering breath, dropping his own gun, and leans back in to grip the human tightly.

“Okay.”

From the corner of his eye, Hank sees Connor's LED glow bright red. For a moment, the android's grip tightens, but then he relaxes, his breaths slowing to a steady pace.

Hank lets out a sigh of relief as the young officer melts into his embrace.

Suddenly, Connor tenses in Hank's arms. Hank leans back, putting distance between them, just enough to look Connor in the eye, except the RK800 isn't returning his gaze. Instead, his wine dark eyes are fixated ahead, wide, blank, and unseeing.

"Connor? You alright?" Hank asks nervously.

Connor does not reply, or tilt his head, or do any of the other 300 little idle animations he does. His LED is a steady, unblinking blue. He doesn't even seem to be simulating breathing.

"Connor? Hey, talk to me, kid." He knows his voice is edging near panic, but he doesn't care, giving Connor's shoulder a little jostle.

Connor remains unresponsive for 4 seconds, and then-

his LED turns a bright, burning red, his eyes roll to the back of his head, eyelids flickering up a storm, and he starts falling backwards. Hank watches it all as if in slow motion.

"Whoa, hey, hey, hey-" He yanks Connor against him, lowering him until he's cradled almost in Hank's lap. "Con, help me, what do i gotta do? I know fuck all about androids, so you're gonna have to tell me what to do here." He knows holding a hand to an android's forehead won't tell him anything, that they don't even get sick or cold, but he does it anyways just to have something to do with his hands. "I can't-fuck, just please, be ok. Don't do this to me, please-"

Connor's red LED flickers, once, twice, then holds steady for a moment before dimming slowly until there's no longer any glow, at least not visible to the naked eye. Empty, grey, and lifeless.

"What the fuck?"

A seething rage courses through Hank, mingled with guilt. This was his fault. Not knowing what else to do, he continues to hold Connor, mind racing and trying to understand what had happened to his partner. It had to be CyberLife. This was what happened to their most advanced prototype if it disobeyed.

He jolts as a dim red glow returns to the LED, then brightens, stronger than he'd ever seen before. The android's eyelids blink rapidly, then Connor sucks in a massive breath, eyes opening wide. Hank hurries to reposition the android, attempting to make him comfortable. Connor grips Hank's arm so tightly that it goes numb. Deep breaths turn into frantic sobs.

"Connor! What happened?"

There's no answer. The androids eyelids are closed, but tears escape through them, running down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, son. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

They remain there for a long time, still except for the steady rising and falling of their chests amidst the snow.

The sound of gunshots rings in the distance as the revolution wages on.

#dbh connor #machine connor #connor and hank #dbh hank anderson #hank anderson #dbh fanfic

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chaoticclaybomber · 1 year

Text

@baddestdangerboy liked for a starter

The first thing Deidara had done upon waking up and being carted off to some supposed new lodgings was to ditch the Akatsuki cloak and slip out the window to the street below. He needed info and he needed it fast.

The last thing he remembers is his chakra gathering, condensing, that thrill of the coming destruction because of his art, his masterpiece, and the regret that he wouldn't be a witness of its majesty. That damn Uchiha should have been grateful to see such a sight.

And now here he was, wells of chakra feeling oddly sluggish and unresponsive, weapons replaced with shitty little wooden training kunai, skin itching with the sure knowledge that he was dead, vaporized, but somehow here in this place he'd never even heard of. Either everyone he'd ever met had been missing something huge, or he'd somehow stumbled into some very weird space-time jutsu shit.

This clean cut district he'd been housed in was not anywhere near what he needed. But a red-light district was the perfect place to go snooping. Just because he was an explosives expert doesn't mean he didn't remember every lesson he'd had drilled into his head about blending in and slipping into a city he wasn't familiar with. It didn't take him long to parse a map and even less time to have a few options. Cotes sounds like something closer to a familiar environment at least.

Seems he's not the only person snooping around either, given the grappling hook attached to the roof of one of the buildings. He should leave it alone and do his own snooping. But when has should ever stopped him from doing something?

Deidara scrambles up the building with a mix of chakra and straight climbing, then peers down at the young man at the end of the rope, peering into windows with a camera raised to his face. The blond grins and tugs at the rope.

"Whatcha doing, un?"

#baddestdangerboy #hello! i adore badou so fucking much im glad you liked :)#sorry for the long post my brain is soup and wanted to ramble #i assumed his methods are similar to the beginning of the manga with him being younger

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breezybangtanbebe · 4 months

Text

Play it Cool: Hyunwoo x Jooheon ❤️‍🔥

A/N: yall ever watch those off-the-wall scenarios/plots in porn where the pizza guy delivers pizza to a sexy lonely lady's house and they end up fucking? Well yea...here you go lmao might be a little long to get the tension just right but I always try to make it worth it in the end🌚

6.2k words

Knock.

You folded the top corner of the page you were reading, exhaling tiredly as you set it aside.

A bead of sweat dripped from your brow and you could feel the hairs at your nape sticking to the back of your neck.

"Ugh..." you exhaled as you trudged barefoot across the floor, switching your hips attitudinally.

The forecast for today predicted it to be the hottest of the season with a heat index of 124° F.

In other words...

It was hot as fuck.

"Please be the A/C people, please please please.." you pleaded under your breath as you neared the front of your house.

You open the door quickly with a clear scowl of discomfort, only to find a man standing on your porch.

More like a speciMAN.

Legs. That's all you could see at first since you started scanning him from large booted feet. The dark jeans he wore seemed to go on forever until reaching his belted waist.

He's wearing a collared navy shirt with the company logo embroidered over the left breast with the buttons undone just below his clavicle.

It fits him nicely, hugging the bulge of his biceps and shoulders as he shrugged his work bag higher by the strap.

His complexion was fair but slightly kissed by the blazing sun that caused a shiny sheen on the surface of his skin.

His jawline was sharp and chiseled and his boyishly cut hair was a soft brown that complimented his youthful appearance. But you could tell he was around your age or older from the maturity in his stance.

His eyes are small and intense, his brow sharp and slightly intimidating as he regarded you with blank professionalism.

"Hi...we got a service call for a broken air conditioner," he says casually, perking his brow.

The look on your face could have been mistaken for the early signs of a stroke, dazed and unresponsive but you quickly gather your wits with a few blinks.

"Um...yeah..yes. Yes! I...I called. Because you're hot."

The repairman's other brow shoots up at your candor and all of the blood drains from your features at his expression.

Well, he was.

"I mean..ITS hot..the weather..whew...Global warming huh? Sheesh.." you backpedaled and his lips spread into a mildly amused smirk.

"Right." he nods. You wordlessly step back so he could enter your house and as he does, you notice another male in uniform at the repair van parked near the curb.

He seems to be gathering tools from the back of the vehicle, scowling from the heat, and focusing on his task.

The upper half of his face is hidden by the hat his hat that's pulled low over his brow but from the way he looked in his untucked uniform shirt, you could tell he was attractive as well.

"Oh lord..." you said to yourself, suddenly aware of how unkempt you probably looked in your sweated-through tank top and shorts. But to be fair, you were literally in there cooking, and wearing anything more would result in instant death.

But damn...why did they both have to be fine?

"Oh, and my name is Hyunwoo by the way. My partner Jooheon is outside gathering the rest of the tools we'll need to assess the issue. Where is your unit located?" He pauses to say, looking at you over his shoulder.

"Oh..um outside. On the side of the house." You respond and Hyunwoo nods in understanding.

His gaze lingers on you for more than a few seconds, dropping just below your neckline briefly before turning away. It's subtle but enough to make something in your tummy flutter like an idiot.

Well, you were sort of half dressed but who could blame you?

"Cool...It does feel pretty stuffy in here. Is there a way for us to access your attic? To check your insulation and freon levels?" He follows up and just as you're about to answer, a soft knock on the ajar door had you looking back to see Hyunwoo's partner entering the house.

And just as you'd suspected, he was gorgeous too.

Not as tall as Hyunwoo but is similarly built. You could tell he was younger by the way his pants sagged a little and how his unbuttoned uniform shirt flowed as he moved. His tanned honey skin also shined from sweat and he removes his hat to reveal his short-cut black hair that spikes at the ends from moisture.

He's visibly affected by the heat and he exhales heavily as he set down the heavy bag he was toting. When he finds your eyes on him, he bows his head respectfully with a polite smile that shows the deepness of his dimples.

And then in a way similar to his counterparts, his eyes appraised you and your body with slight interest before he blinks himself back into reality.

"Afternoon." He greets you and the deep rasp of his voice does something to your insides that you wouldn't express to anyone aloud.

"Hi.." you rasp out, the dryness in your throat returning embarrassingly fast at the sight of him smiling.

Hyunwoo regards him for a moment then looks to you for the answer to his question.

"Miss? Your Attic?" He repeats and you nod faster than was what was necessary.

"Oh! Yeah. This way.."

You lead them to your garage, flicking on the light, and reached for the long beaded chain that pulled down the hatch on the ceiling.

You were short-ish, so you have to extend your torso a bit to reach it and your tank rides up to expose your waistline.

Sure, you could have allowed one of the obviously taller gentlemen accompanying you to do it. But this was your house and you were comfortable doing it on your own anyway.

The guys stand by as you grunted softly, using your strength to pull down the ladder and Jooheon can't help but observe your toned figure from where he stood.

Respectfully of course.

Hyunwoo pretends not to notice the way your spine curved slightly, accentuating your round and pert booty that sat up nicely from the way you stood on your tip toes.

But he definitely noticed, causing his Adam's apple to bob thickly in his throat.

He takes a step back once the ladder touches down on the garage floor.

"Awesome. Thank you. I can take it from here ma'am.." he dutifully reaches for the metal ladder and secures it into the proper position.

You step back as he makes sure the ladder is in place before ascending, leaving you with his partner.

He stands by patiently as Hyunwoo climbed the ladder, occasionally glancing over at you from the corner of his eye.

You weren't privy to his gaze since you were still watching Hyunwoo ascend, which gave Jooheon a few more seconds to admire the soft glisten of sweat that made your skin glow.

Sunkissed would be an understatement in describing the luster of your complexion and it takes some restraint to pull himself from your distracting presence.

He looks up to find Hyunwoo just about to step up onto the attic floor, knowing he'd have no good reason to have not been following him.

He reaches for the ladder and regards you with another polite and tight-lipped smile before ascending.

"We got it from here if you wanna head back inside." he pauses to say and you nodded gratefully. It was hotter in the damn garage than it was in the house.

"Great. Well if you guys need anything, I'll be in the living room." You say and Jooheon nods before continuing up with his bag on his shoulder.

Some minutes later.

You were back on your couch, trying to keep yourself occupied with your book.

The paragraph you had to start over three times began to look like foreign script as your mind drifted to the men working in your house.

Occasionally you'd hear them moving above your head in the attic or catch part of them conversing with each other in the garage.

You lift your head a little too eagerly when you hear heavy footsteps over your tiled floors, catching Hyunwoo or Jooheon's casual smile as they went outside for something.

Both of them had a gentle swagger about them that made their walks sexily distracting.

Jooheon's was a little staggered from the way his pants sat just below his waist. He stepped slowly, favoring his right side a little more and he switched in the most masculine way.

Then there was Hyunwoo.

Tall and confident, with the gate of a supermodel. His posture was much better than Jooheon's, making his broad shoulders more noticeable in the way the navy blue fabric hugged his lean form.

It was beginning to be kind of funny to you how aware you were of the men hired to fix your air conditioning, shaking the idea of them breaking the code of morale to indulge your interested glances.

Not to say you hadn't caught them looking back a few times but it could all be in your imagination.

You probably looked thirsty as hell in those little ass shorts.

Speaking of thirst...

Both men had been outside working on your unit for a while, leaving your house as hot and empty as it had been before.

You pushed yourself up from the couch and stepped heavily towards your kitchen, where you prepared a tall glass of ice water.

Mostly ice though.

Something was soothing about the biting coldness of it against your lips as you drank, along with its crunchiness when you allowed a few pieces to slip between your lips.

The elated groan of relief you released as it flowed down your throat was a bit on the erotic side. But you didn't care.

It was too hot to care.

But had you been more conscious of the open window on the other side of the kitchen, you might have done better in concealing it.

Meanwhile...

"Dammit. She's got an older model. I don't think I have the tools to access the grid in my bag." Hyunwoo huffs distractedly as he kneeled, rummaging through the assorted tools he'd brought with him. He wipes the sweat from his brow with a grimace, glancing up from his bag to find Jooheon pleasantly distracted by something.

He's leaned against the wall, mindlessly chewing on his lip with narrowed eyes that peer into the window that existed several feet away from where they were working.

Hyunwoo frowns at him and follows his gaze to find your shaded silhouette on the other side of the glass.

The distance and slight tint on the window make it difficult to decipher the specifics of what you were doing, but it became obvious when the outline of your body shifted to the side as you tipped back the glass of freshly poured ice water.

The line of your shadowed curves contrasted the white walls behind you, making it easy to admire the slimness of your waist and the perkiness of your ass in those shorts.

While Hyunwoo appeared nonplussed at your initial appearance at the front door, Jooheon recalls having to look away several times to avoid being caught staring.

Not that he was a pervert or anything.

You were just attractive and out of all of the job sites he'd done with Hyunwoo in this area, he never saw anyone as captivating as you.

You make a suggestive sound that's just barely audible outside via the crack of the opening at the bottom of the window, and both men were now watching like drones as you swallowed down the water.

Slow and indulgent.

It's almost seductive.

You exhale loudly as you lowered the glass from your lips.

"Um, you should be....working.."Hyunwoo's conflicted brow creased as you reached into the glass with dainty fingers, proceeding to pick a cube of ice from the many.

"I am..." Jooheon responds as you began to drag the ice over your skin, starting at your forehead, then trailing down under your jaw and neck.

From the literal outside looking in, one could assume that you had no idea you were being watched. But you weren't oblivious.

You were curious though.

Both men tilt their heads simultaneously as you tipped your head back to allow the cooling drizzles to run over your exposed skin, probably dripping between your breasts and dipping into your naval.

"Damn..." you could just about hear one of them say, both too distracted by the little show you put on to know whether it was out loud or not. And with a boldness neither of them could suspect, your eyes turn in the window's direction.

You were discrete though, the shade of the room making it impossible for them to know you could see them watching. But it doesn't stop you from smirking.

The one named Jooheon was staring the hardest, his bottom lip hanging and his eyes reduced to slits in the sun.

The other, Hyunwoo, watched with an air of curiosity in his brow. As if he wanted to look away but couldn't.

For some reason that was just as attractive as the other blatantly watching you tease yourself with the ice cube.

Well, at least you weren't the only hot and bothered by their presence.

After toying with their attention for a few more seconds, you toss the half-melted cube in the sink and turn away to exit the kitchen as if you knew nothing, switching cutely in your shorts as you retreated from the view of the two on-looking repairmen.

Hyunwoo was first to look away, realizing how unprofessional all of this was with flustered cheeks. He shakes his head shamefully.

"Ok...shows over" he mutters, resuming his search through his bag.

Jooheon smacked his lips slowly, not sure if he was more enamored by the thought of the ice melting against your skin or how thirsty he was now from watching you.

He pushes himself from the outside wall he leaned against.

"Ok. Ima say it. She's fine..." he blurts out and Hyunwoo snorts.

"She's a client," he responds, rising to stand with a frustrated scowl on his face.

"You got a multimeter in your bag?" he asks and Jooheon shakes his head, consequently shaking the sweat from his bangs.

"Naw. I saw one in the van though. I wonder if she's single....this house is pretty spacious for just one person..." Jooheon resumes his gaze toward the window and Hyunwoo rolls his eyes in amusement before snapping his fingers to gain Jooheon's attention.

"Hey...look at me. Don't even think about it," he says just above a whisper, and the corners of Jooheon's mouth droop into an offended frown.

"What?"

"You know what...I don't need any complaints on my ledger today because you wanna flirt with the homeowner. Just act like a professional and help me get the job done." he commands softly, sounding more like an older brother or friend than a coworker. Jooheon smirks at his choice of words, turning his head back towards the window briefly.

"Man......I am a professional. In ALL aspects.." he mutters, tearing his gaze from the window to regard Hyunwoo.

"Alright well, professionally walk your ass to the van and see if you can find the shit we need to crack this unit open. Wipe that drool off your lip too." Hyunwoo playfully tosses him the navy blue bandana he kept in his waistband to wipe sweat from his hands straight at Jooheon's face suddenly.

He catches it before it makes contact, albeit begrudgingly as he threw it back for Hyunwoo to catch against his chest with a chuckle.

Not much happened after you returned to the living room. Both men remained outside and you could hear the sound of their tools buzzing and clanging against metal as they worked. You envisioned them working up quite the sweat out there, their shirts most likely sticking to their skin.

Perhaps you should go out there and check on them.

To offer them something to drink of course.

Not to lust after them like a little creep.

You blush at the thought, finding it harder to focus on your reading now that all you could imagine was thick necks with sweat dripping leisurly down..

Just nasty things, ok?

Anywho...

After a while, your set your book down to rub at your tired eyes and wipe the sweat collecting over your brow.

Between the heat and so distracted by the hired specialists slaving away sexily to keep you from dying of heat stroke, you found yourself sagging into the welcoming cushions of your couch.

You lean your head back and prop your bare feet on the edge of your glass table, mindful of your half-full glass of ice on the coaster.

It wasn't your intention to fall asleep.

You merely wanted a moment to rest your eyes and keep an ear out in case one of the repairmen summoned your attention.

But the fatigue from sweating all day was inevitable.

So with drooping eyelids and slower breaths...

You drifted.

Slowly.

Peacefully.

Deeply...

"It's still pretty hot down here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I say well over 100 degrees."

"Damn, that is hot."

"Yeah, I don't think feeling around with my fingers is helping.."

"Why not use your mouth instead then?"

"You think that'll work?"

"Worth a try..."

Their voices feel distant at first.

Barely comprehensible and faint.

But their touch is overwhelmingly evident as you slowly awakened.

Warm.

Soft.

Wet.

Cold.

Ice cold...

You moaned unintentionally when the bite of a melting ice cube kissed the peak of your exposed nipple, your breath shuddering as your eyes opened.

Deft fingers stroked your walls slowly, rubbing occasionally at your most sensitive spot as you came to. You lift your head and blink heavily as the room spun from your fading slumber, only to find yourself naked and spread eagle with a man kneeling between your legs.

His dark hair sticks to his forehead.

His plump bottom lip catches between his teeth, making his dimples crease the center of his cheeks as he watched the way your juices coated his fingers.

"Oh...oh...shit..." you exhale shakily with a moan that's like music to your blurry lover's ears. He smiles around his bitten lip and chuckles softly as he lowered his head.

Hyunwoo looks up just as you stirred fully awake and moaned again, smirking at the soft confusion on your face that morphed into a pleasured expression the moment his partner put his mouth on your heat.

"Look who decided to join us..." he says casually from beside you on the couch, leaning comfortably against the cushions.

Your eyes take their time adjusting as you become fully conscious and the first thing they're able to focus on vividly is the melting ice cube being slowly rubbed over your left nipple.

Your body heat melts it on contact, causing little streams of water to flow over the curve of your breast. You tremble at the tickle it sends over your skin and Hyunwoo's smirk widens.

From the waist down he's still in his uniform of work pants and boots.

But by the looks of his bare shoulders and exposed neckline, it's apparent that he's shed his work shirt in favor of his sleeveless undershirt. Its damp around the collar from sweat, confirmed by the way his skin had even more of a natural glisten over its smooth surface.

You studied him distractedly as the other male sucked softly on your outer lips teasingly, his fingers still at work.

Your bare chest heaved as you attempted to move but your limbs felt like jello.

Trembling and weak from exhaustion.

"What...what is happ..." you trail off as the warmth of the man you now recognized as the one named Jooheon sucked on your clit hard.

"Relax...we're here to help..." Hyunwoo's deeply soothing tone appeases you.

Your bare chest pushed against the thinning cube of ice as you gasped, and Hyunwoo pulls it away from your breast to lean over your glistening chest.

He sucks the excess water from your nipple casually before responding.

"You were overheated," Hyunwoo remarks cooly as he swallowed, lapping at your nipple with a similar fervor to Jooheon as his tongue glides over the front of your pussy.

"Yeah. While we were working on the unit outside, the house must have gotten so hot that you passed out." he tacks on as if he wasn't two knuckles deep inside of you right now.

Your brow crinkles at their responses, neither of them explaining why you were naked and at the mercy of their hands and tongues.

Rationally, you would be mortified and resist their touches at all cost.

But damn.....

They felt so good, it was almost as if you were in a daze.

"I...passed out?" you mumbled and both men nod.

"We tried fanning you. Flicking your face with water..." Hyunwoo begins.

"Calling your name.." Jooheon adds.

"Tapping your face.." Hyunwoo says.

"Shaking your shoulders.." Jooheon concedes.

"But nothing worked until we heard you say our names in your sleep..Telling us...begging us to touch you. To cool you down..." Hyunwoo explains, his eyes on his work as he kissed your nipple with ice.

"We had to think fast. You were sweating so much. And when we felt your skin...It felt like you were on fire so..." he pauses again as he discards the tiny shard of ice in his mouth before reaching for a new cube from your forgotten glass.

He places it between his teeth and leans down to graze a flat side over your shoulder and collarbone.

You shivered on contact, gasping sharply when his tongue pushes the cube out further and slip from his mouth.

None of it made sense.

You knew it didn't.

But nothing about how these men were pleasuring you in an attempt to help you, only made you care less about the logic and more about the intention.

"Wow....is this a s...service you both typically provide?" you stutter as the new ice cube glides over your skin, this time between your breasts and down the line of your abdomen. Water drips into your naval, just above where Hyunwoo places his hand, and an unintentional moan of need vibrates in your chest.

He shakes his head as he drags the ice cube back up your body.

"Not typically," he smirks, and that's all he says before leaning back in to lick up the rouge streams of water dripping down the side of your waist.

Your jaw drops when he licks over your skin and you twitch when his cold lips skim over a ticklish spot, making both men smirk.

"But we figured you required some.....drastic assistance" Jooheon pauses his ministrations to say. He immediately goes back to filling his mouth with your pussy, humming appreciatively at your taste.

Hyunwoo straightens up to resume playing with your nipple with the ice, but his soft gaze was now on your face.

He gauges the confusion and pleasure written all over it, and he tilts his head curiously.

"Would you like us to stop? We can...now that you're awa..." he says but is interrupted by the floor-to-ceiling moan you let out in response to Jooheon suddenly replacing his fingers with a vibrating bullet that felt all too familiar.

Jooheon clicks the button a few times before settling on a pulsing setting, pressing it deep inside of you before resuming his skilled tongue over your clit.

"Found that on your nightstand...hope you don't mind..." you heard Hyunwoo say but you were too blissed out to give a damn.

You shook your head emphatically with your lips parted.

"Oh fuck...Dont stop. Don't stop, please..." you pant as Jooheon flicks the tip of his tongue over you quickly, all while Hyunwoo goes back to sucking and toying with your nipples.

His tongue continues to mimic Jooheon's and his hooded gaze remains on your expression as they both drowned you with stimulation and pleasure.

When your eyes begin to roll back, Hyunwoo hums in approval.

"She's cumming.." Hyunwoo murmurs around your flesh.

Jooheon is far too engulfed by his task to care about anything else and he perks his brow with a questioning hum against your pussy.

Hyunwoo pulls away to watch the way Jooheon licked over your folds relentlessly, getting caught up in how arousing it was to witness before blinking.

"She's cumming....so don't you fucking stop.." he nearly growls to Jooheon, who didn't need his advice considering he could literally taste your orgasm approaching.

But he nods stiffly in compliance as he pressed his mouth deeper against you.

You could feel your vibrator getting pushed toward your entrance from how you were squeezing it, meaning you were getting closer.

Your moans were uncontrollable by now, your breath quickening and your legs trembling.

Jooheon closed his lips around your clit as he flicked it harder and faster, holding your legs down to keep them open.

Hyunwoo licked over your nipple sloppily while his other hand pinched the other, having forgotten about the melted cup of ice on the table.

Both of them moan along with you as if the sights and sounds of your climax were enough to make them cum undone untouched.

But the only one who is left panting and shaking is you.

Jooheon glances up to find you writhing against his tongue and he smiles with satisfaction. You felt his lips spread into an open-mouthed grin as he dragged his tongue over your heat lazily, soaking up every drop of cum that spurted from your opening.

He removes the vibrator and clicks its power button a few times until it goes silent.

It's as if you could still feel it inside of though, its residual tremors fading slowly.

Your receding climax blazed trails of goosebumps all over your body, making your legs tremble as they hung over Jooheon's shoulders. He continued to lick you slowly and it takes you whimpering for mercy to get him to pull his mouth away.

Jooheon tosses the cum-coated toy aside on the couch before returning to kiss you gently at your center, trailing his lips up your inner thighs.

Distracting you from his lips, you felt another pair pressing gently against your temple. Then to your cheek and ending on your lips. Your eyes open slowly to find Hyunwoo beside you, cupping your breast that was still wet with his spit and melted ice massaging it as he kissed you.

You were vaguely aware of Jooheon moving from between your legs to take up the space on your other side.

Once settled, the warmth that was just surrounding your clit was now circling your other nipple. Hyunwoo gives the nipple on his side a squeeze and you moan pitifully against his lips, feeling him smile.

"Do you still feel hot?" Hyunwoo inquires and you shake your head, causing the tips of your noses to brush together.

"Good. Now...how would you rate our service for you today? Hmm? Were we good?" he whispers to you, teasing your lips while Jooheon flicked his tongue over your sensitive skin. Before you could answer him, Hyunwoo moves to replace his hand with his mouth and he joins Jooheon to worship your pert nipples with their tongues.

Having both of their mouths on you in that way, coupled with their big hands skimming down your body, it felt as if you were already on the brink of coming undone again.

They were both so different and yet the same.

Strong and confident.

Experienced and determined.

Hot and cold.

It was overwhelming.

It was...

"Hello?"

"Miss?"

You awake suddenly.

Panting and covered in a cool layer of moisture.

You find yourself laid out on the couch as you had been before in your living room, frowning in confusion at not even realizing that you'd fallen asleep.

As you slowly sit up, you become aware of the humming sound overhead of your air conditioning now kicked on and cooling your house.

And you were also aware of the eyes on you.

His blurry name tag comes into view as he crouched down in front of the couch. His sharp brow furrowed and pouted lips formed a grim line of concern.

"Miss?"

Hyunwoo's voice chimes quizzically in your mind and you blinked rapidly like an idiot as the erotic images from deep in your mind fade, only to be replaced by one of the beautiful faces from your fantasy regarding you worriedly.

Your parted lips come together and you gain some focus on the features of the repair man, his dark eyes and prominent scowl as he gauged your odd behavior.

"Um...are you ok?" he asks, rising to stand as you sat up.

You glance around confusedly before almost frantically touching your chest and thighs, making sure you weren't naked this time.

"Whew" you thought.

"Yeah...Yeah. I'm ok...I think the heat knocked me out." you joke weakly.

Hyunwoo smirks at your response and you try your best not to think too far into his smugness.

He moves back so that you have enough space to stand, untucking a clipboard from under his arm.

"Yeah..it can most definitely do that to you. I've come close to passing out while working outside a few times. Hydrating is important." he mutters casually and you nod, your mind thinking back to him pretty much drinking ice water from your naval 2 minutes ago in your dreams.

"I can imagine.." you chuckle, now feeling a little exposed in your thin tank and little shorts.

Hyunwoo says nothing as he flipped through a few pages on his clipboard with a focused frown on his face, giving you a moment to assess what the hell had just happened.

A wet dream? How old were you?

A literal wet dream. You could feel your walls trembling as if you'd just cum in real life, the slippery mess making the crotch of your panties stick to you.

That damn heat really did do a number on you, boiling your brain until it cooked up a freaky ass fantasy involving these two fine ass strangers.

You'd have to take a long shower after these men left.

A cold one for more reasons than one.

"Ok so...We're just about done here. Everything is good to go...Attic checked out. Thermostat is reset. I just need your signature here." Hyunwoo was all business as he addressed you now, going down a mental checklist as he offered the clipboard to you.

"Ok." You mumble as you took it from him with the pen tucked beneath the clip. You glance up at him shyly as you scribbled your signature at the bottom of the invoice, feeling Hyunwoo's gaze on you with that unreadable expression of his.

"Thank you... " he says when you handed it back to him.

Just then, his partner strolls by from the garage covered in sweat. His work shirt is off and hanging over his shoulder, his sweated-through white tee clinging to his body.

He removes his hat to wipe the wetness from his brow before replacing it, and your eyes linger on the way his chest flexed underneath his t-shirt when he lifted the heavy tool bag from the floor where it sat keeping the front door open.

It's as if he can feel you watching him and you're met with a casual dimpled smile that gives you another savory flashback.

"You have a really old unit. Im not sure how old the house itself is but Im still surprised they installed it. So from what we were able to do today, it should hold for a little bit. But Id consider getting it replaced if you don't want it giving out on you again. It should be covered under your home warranty. " Hyunwoo distracts you from your fleeting thoughts and you nod at him in understanding.

"Ok. Good to know. Thank you."

"No problem. You have any questions for me before we go?" he asks, lifting his brow.

From the corner of your eye, you detected Jooheon lingering in your doorway with the strap of his work bag over his shoulder.

His head is down as his thumbs tapped against his phone but at Hyunwoo's question, he lifts his gaze curiously.

Oh, the number of inappropriate questions that filled your brain at that moment.

Starting with what a girl had to do to make what transpired in her brain a reality.

You weren't at all the shy type but neither were you bold enough to ask two strangers if they'd be willing to ruin you on a hot Thursday afternoon.

Or night.

You wondered vaguely if they were single. You didn't spot a ring on either of their finger but you never assumed. The way they looked at you made it easy to believe that if they weren't single, they probably weren't 100% faithful.

At least you hoped.

Terrible, yes.

You quickly reel in the whore inside of them as she fought for dominance, despite not disagreeing with what she wanted.

You had to make sure they'd even be down to do something like that. It would be expected that they had their jobs to consider and it would be arrogant to assume you shared the same type of attraction.

Or relationship status.

So you had to play it cool.

"Yeah actually..." you pipe up and Hyunwoo regards you with the same, but of interest, he had been the entire interaction.

"Sure.." he mutters, tilting his head expectedly. You hesitate when you spot his gaze falling on your lips for a few seconds then back up to your eyes.

Checkmate.

"Say I have any issues with it again.....Who would I contact? You guys or..."

From the way your eyes danced between the two of them, there must have been a naughty undertone to the way you trailed off, and both Jooheon and Hyunwoo exchanged a look.

"Well...typically, you would contact the manufacturer and per your warranty, they'd send someone out to see what was going on. With a service fee and whatnot...It could be anyone." Hyunwoo shrugs, noting the slight disappointment in your pout

"Oh...ok."

"But....and this is off the record. We don't mind dropping by if it's a simple matter. Something quick and easy to fix...to save you some money." Jooheon cuts in, shifting his eyes toward Hyunwoo. He rolls his eyes in amusement but doesn't look as if he's about to disagree.

"Really?" you ask, mirroring the little smirk now on Hyunwoo's gorgeous face.

"Yeah we do a lot of work in this area so, it wouldn't be major for us to just drop by. Here..." he flips the pages of the clipboard and clicks the pen before scrawling something down. He rips the bottom portion of the paper and offers it to you.

"That's my personal number. I'm usually free to respond anytime....in case you need us for anything," he says casually as if he truly intended this exchange to be strictly professional. You take it slowly, looking over his handwriting and nodding.

"And he does mean....anything," Jooheon adds, avoiding a scolding look from Hyunwoo for sounding overly suggestive.

As if you'd mind or be offended.

This was music to your ears.

You giggle at Jooheon's darkened gaze as it juxtaposed his bright smile and you nod again in complete understanding of his gist.

"Cool. Thank you." you direct towards him with a softly bitten lip. Hyunwoo watches the brief flirty exchange with that same smirk, shaking his head and turning to head in Jooheon's direction.

"Alright well..we'll get going. Enjoy the rest of your day miss..." he says, tipping his chin towards his partner in a dismissive gesture and Jooheon reluctantly prepares to leave.

"Don't be afraid to use that number!" he calls over his should just as Hyunwoo pushes him ahead, turning to give you a semi-apologetic smile before reaching for the door handle.

"Ok. Thank you again. You two stay cool out here.." you call after them and both men turn to give you one last polite smile, their gazes lingering on you for a second longer than necessary.

It would have been delusional of you to think it was because they found you attractive but something seems confirmed when Hyunwoo glanced back at you a second time before pulling your door closed.

And the moment they're gone, you nearly fling yourself on your sofa and bury your face in the cushions.

My nickname for this duo is Super Smash Bros and I dont think it needs an explanation 🌚🥴

#monsta x smut #shownu #minhyuk #wonho #kihyun #hyungwon #jooheon #changkyun

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aussiepineapple1st · 1 year

Text

What is Happening to Me (Part 9)

Leon x F!Reader

Words: 2,178 Contains: Blood, Angst, Injury.

Part 1 | Previous | Next

Swimming to shore, you pull the raft up onto the grainy sand. There was a small cove that you could lay Leon down and get a fire started, you were freezing cold from the icy water. The sky was very overcast and threatening to rain at any moment. Stepping into the raft you kneel down beside Leon and place a hand on his chest, feeling it rise and fall unevenly. He's probably broken a rib or two, you can't imagine the force he took from the crash landing. Sitting Leon up you move around to be behind him, wrapping your arms under his pits and pull him out of the raft, dragging him to the small cove. Gently laying him down on his back you stand up and go to find some sticks and leaves you can use to build a small fire.

You keep your eyes on Leon for a moment before walking out of the small enclosed area. Walking to where there were some trees and grass you start to scavenge enough materials, making your way back. Kneeling down you place bark on the sand first, adding grass and dead leaves you turn to Leon, rummaging around in his pockets you knew he had a lighter here somewhere. Ah! Got it! Using the lighter you burn the leaves and make sure it catches before placing the sticks and more bits of bark to start building it.

"(Y/N), Are you there?" You hear Hunnigan's voice in your ear.

"Copy.."

"I managed to track your location, it seems you're on a coast near Whitbeck, England."

"England?!" You were shocked, you were almost to Germany, but not quite. "Damn it!" You say frustrated and pull your legs up to your chest, burying your head in your knees and arms.

"How is Leon?" Hunnigan asks as you could hear her typing.

"Alive, but still unresponsive." You say turning your head to look at him laying on his back, the fire lightly illuminating his features. Blood now dried and crusting around the corners of his mouth and left nostril.

"Alright, just hold tight, I'm going to get in contact with the UK branch and see if they can get a helicopter to your location." She says frustrated at this turn of events.

"Thanks, Hunnigan.."

"Don't mention it, you're both going to be just fine. Keep Leon warm and alive, that is your current mission." She says then hangs up the line.

You sit there in silence, watching the flames dancing around as the cold breeze sometimes blows through the covered area. You felt your eyes beginning to water but you blink the tears away, shivering you huddle closer to the fire, holding out your hands to warm them up. Every so often you would glance over to Leon and watch his chest to make sure it was still rising and falling, your brain then starts to think about what happened. Only the flight staff had been turned, the Men giving you the info were dead, but only because they were being eaten. You didn't even hear them screaming for help when they were taken down. Does that mean they were killed before the zombies got to them? It was hard to tell with how mutilated they were. The pilot's were dead then turned, meaning they got infected after they died. The flight attendants were the only ones who turned without being dead first, from what you saw in the quick moments before shooting them that is.

You scratch your fingers on your scalp as you groan in annoyance, this was a set up. Someone knew Leon and you were coming to help, hoping to get rid of you on the flight to Germany. You were so tired, you had swum for a good hour before making it to shore, the current kept pulling you out to sea until you managed to get closer. You were frozen and couldn't feel certain parts of your body from the water, your drenched clothes with the cold wind blowing on your back wasn't helping. Looking over to Leon's chest you watch as it is still rising and falling, looking away then quickly double taking back to him as you see his head turned to you, ice blue eyes staring your way. "Leon!" You say moving to your hands and knees, crawling over to him.

"Hey.." He said weakly, his face contorting into a pained wince. Yep, he's most definitely broken something.

"Where does it hurt?" You ask going into immediate medic mode.

"I think I've just broken a rib.. nothing too bad." He grunts, trying to adjust his body to get more comfortable.

"Can you breathe alright? Do you think you've punctured a lung?" You ask, the blood on the corners of his mouth giving you the thought.

"Could have.. I can still breathe though. I've got two." He jokes trying to make light of the situation. "Do you know where we are?"

"Hunnigan got back into contact when I had you on the raft, she said we are on a coast near Whitbeck, England."

"England.." Leon repeats, a hand lifting to rest over his temple, he had a massive headache. Most probably a concussion. You give a nod as you watch him, He had come home from missions a little bruised, but you had never seen him in this state before. You reach down and take his hand, laying down beside him, allowing the fire to be next to Leon as you press your wet body against his side.

"Hunnigan is contacting someone to come get us in a helicopter." You inform. "There's nothing we can really do apart from wait." You explain. Leon gives a nod and wraps an arm around you to hold you close, feeling your trembling body.

"You're all wet. How come I'm not?" He asked curiously.

"Oh.. To get us to shore I had to push the raft." You explain. "It took me about an hour but I got us here." You say with a tired chuckle.

"An hour?! That water has to be almost frozen, Are you okay? You could have Hypothermia!" You wave off his worry as you stay snuggled into him, you hadn't thought about that.. Damn it.. You're both not doing the best right now.

You both lay there beside the fire, keeping warm as best as you could, discussing what could have gone down. Finally you come to the conclusion that someone else was on that Jet who either was working for the person causing these outbreaks and heard you were coming, the staff were unknowingly infected while on the Jet or some other cause making the staff turn. Everything had happened so quickly it was hard to even process details. Leon was talking to you when you suddenly stopped replying to him, you had fallen asleep, your body entering repair mode. Leon sits up and checks to make sure you are okay before removing his leather jacket and laying it over you. He gets up allowing the fire's warmth to touch you and hopefully warm you up as he goes to have a look around where you were.

A good half an hour passes and you wake up, feeling the weight of a leather jacket laying over you as you hear the blades of a large chinook in the distance. Leon was standing out on the beach, a hand raised up to shield his eyes from the rain now falling. You hear Hunnigan responding to Leon, but not able to hear what Leon was saying, he was too far away.

"Alright, I'm taking a note of that now... Hmm, I'm not sure... Yes, she is." There was a little pause. Leon looking towards you, seeing you were now sat up dropping sand on the fire to extinguish it. "Understood. You can get there with this chinook, it's ready to take you to Erfurt." Leon walks over to you, now able to hear him responding. "Thanks, Roots. I'll contact you once we are on the ground. Condor one out." He kneels down in front of you, his wet, navy shirt hugging his body as water drips from his hair. "Hey.. You okay? The chinook will be landing her in a moment." He says offering a hand to help you to your feet.

"And it's going to take us to Erfurt?" You ask, Leon nods and stands up. You hand his Jacket back to him and he puts it on, sighing at the warmth now hugging his cold body as he looks out to the beach seeing the large chinook landing.

The back opens and a male walks down the ramp, a familiar figure to both of you. "Chris?" You both say in unison as you hurry to the cover of the chinook.

"Hey! Heard you needed a lift to Germany!" He said smiling brightly at the both of you. He hands a blanket to the both of you as well as earpieces so you could communicate while in the air.

Once in the air you were both seated beside each other, dripping wet and warming up from the blankets you had wrapped around you. "So, what happened?" Chris asks, his gaze staying on you as he was wondering why you were with Leon. Had you gone back to work already? He had popped in last week to see the two of you before heading to England himself.

You clear your throat before speaking. "Our Jet ended up having infected staff. Leon crashed the Jet into the water, Don't worry.. I saved his butt." You smirk looking to Leon with a cheeky grin.

Leon's eyebrows just raise and he leans forwards from resting against the back of the seat. "That's basically what happened, yeah. It seems someone knew we were on our way to Germany to deal with their work and tried to get rid of us." He elaborates.

Chris just shakes his head, eyes flicking between you both, a small smile on his face. "You two always get yourself in these types of situations, don't you?" Leon just sighs and gives a defeated nod.

"I wouldn't know." You chuckle and look up to Chris who's gaze was still on you, you could see a look furrow his brows before he turns away from you. "Chris.. I'm fine. This is my first mission. Well.. You know what I mean."

"I'm just surprised.. It's only been 2 months."

"Well I was going to have to get back to work eventually, couldn't let Leon have all the fun." You smile and look to Leon on your left, he doesn't look to you as he felt a fair amount of guilt at Chris' words.

"Hold on.. Are you (Y/N) (L/N)?" One of the females in Chris' crew ask. You give a nod, surprised eyes looking to Chris who gave you a proud smile and leans back against the seat he was on. "No way!! I never thought I would actually meet you. You inspired me when heard about what you did in California!" She says seeming to be excited to be talking to you.

"Oh.. I'm glad." You smile, looking to Chris once again. "What did I do in California?" You asked.

"What do you mean?" The same lady asked you. "It's just ONE of the many cool things you've done!"

"I'm sorry." You shrug. "I can't remember anything from before 2 months ago. I apparently hit my head and woke up after a week not remembering anything." You explain to her.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. And you're back in business? Impressive." She said gloating once again. You sit there in silence, feeling a little bad that you couldn't remember, hoping you didn't let her down. But unbeknownst to you, you had just inspired her even more.

"I don't think you should be on duty yet." Chris spoke up. "Leon, why is she doing such a big mission on her first day? Why not do some work in the office or something?" You could tell in his tone he was slightly annoyed that you were on the field. "It's only been 2 months."

"You think I don't know that? I can't control who gets dragged into jobs. Not with the DSO." Leon snaps back, his own frustration on the situation coming forwards.

"Guys!.. Guys, it's my choice. I accepted going on this job, so drop it.." You say feeling a little overwhelmed. "I don't know why, but deep in the back of my mind I just felt like I needed to get back to work.." Both Leon and Chris look at you with a little sorrow in their eyes as well as a hint of guilt. "What?.. What are you both not telling me?" You asked knowing that look in their eyes.

Leon shakes his head. "I'll tell you when we're alone." He explained. You give him a frown, you had been alone for 2 months at home. Why look guilty now when you had mentioned the reason why you accepted so early?

Part 1 | Previous | Next

🏷️: @phoenix666stuff @maehemthemisfit @greywardensaywhat @growingupnrealizing

#angst #blood #chris redfield #fanfic #fic #injury #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x f!reader #leon x fem!reader #leon x female reader #leon x reader #what is happening to me #wihtm

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timaeusterrored · 7 months

Text

(Like Father Like Son)

((I feel like I’ve never actually written a father-son moment between Vax and Vik, and what better time than now? Set sometime after he starts healing from the Space Station))

Vax had always loved rooftops, ever since he was a kid. Whenever he sat up there, for once he didn’t feel so small. That maybe being up there could save him from the city trying to swallow him. Even as a kid, V was terrified of the city eating him whole, becoming a no one. Another face in a sea of nobodies.

“Y’know, I’ll never forget the first time I looked up and saw you sitting on a roof. Damn near climbed the building to get you down.”

Vax turned at the sudden voice, not expecting anyone up here. But there stood Vik, arms crossed and leaned again the door way.

“Don’t you have your own roof to go sit on or somethin’? Or did the ol’ Rockerboy finally chase you away?” Vik sat down next to V, their legs dangling over the edge. Vax noted Vik was making an effort to not look down. Not everyone could handle heights.

“Nah, he’s busy with the ‘Saka bullshit still… and his new album.” Vax tried to keep the sad tone out of his voice, but he was struggling to. And he knew Vik heard it.

“Trouble in paradise? He fuck up?”

“He’s been perfect, Vik… it ain’t that.” Vax sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so fuckin’ tired… and lonely. Ker invites me to join him when he goes places… but he doesn’t need me. No one fuckin’ does. No one needs V anymore…”

Vik let that settle in, watching his son for a long moment. Was that what this was? He felt unneeded? Unwanted even?

“You’re right. I don’t need V.” Maybe that was a bad way to start because Vax chuckled like he knew something. “I need Vax. I need that spunky little fifteen year old smart ass I met damn near 15 years ago.” Holy fuck it had been 15 years already.

Vax was staring at him, as if confused by his statement. He never had been a man of words.

“Y’know… when I first brought you in, I was thinking ‘what the fuck am I doing? I can’t raise a kid. Much less a 15 year old.’ And with you glaring at me for like a month straight, I really didn’t think we were getting far. But Vax… you changed my life. When you won your first boxing match, I just yelled ‘That’s my kid! That’s my kid right there!’ I was so fucking proud of you… then that fucker took you when you were 17 and I didn’t know what the fuck to do. All I knew was that my kid was gone and no one had seen him in days… then Rogue comes to my door holding you, you’re shaking and covered in blood and smell like a fucking campfire and I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved to see you in my life… until Arasaka took you. Losing Jackie felt like losing a son… and I kept just… hoping, praying, I dunno, everything to just get that thing out of you. For you to live.”

When Vik was mostly done because he felt he was talking nonsense, he looked at V… to find him with tears in his eyes. Oh fuck, he hadn’t meant to make him cry.

“And when you brought fucking Kerry Eurodyne home, I was like “oh hell no.” Because I’ve read some shit-“ Vik attempted to joke but Vax let out a sound that he couldn’t tell if the poor man was laughing or crying.

Vik patted his son’s back, letting him get it out. Kerry said Vax had been rather unresponsive to things, and this is probably the first time he’s cried in a while. The ripperdoc couldn’t even begin to understand what this man went through.

“Fuck… I’m sorry.” Vax sniffed, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so… I’m so tired, Vik… I know people are trying to give me space and to let me rest… but I can’t help but feel like everyone has moved on from me… even Ker and Judy don’t feel like they need me anymore… and you and Mama Welles got your own shit goin’ on-“

“Me and Guadalupe have been worried sick about you. So don’t you start pulling that shit onto me… No one has moved on from you. You spend too much time in your own head, you always have.” Vik sighed. Vax had been horrible for getting in his own head, Vik never could get him to stop. “You been talking to your therapist? And taking your meds?”

Vax nodded, and yet Vik didn’t believe him.

“My keeper isn’t letting me forget. Don’t worry.” Vax mumbled, his hands falling into his lap in defeat. Vik had no clue what to do to make this better… he didn’t read any parenting books on how to make your adult kid feel better after dying three times.

The two sat in silence after, sometimes you just needed quiet with a safe person to feel less alone. Until Vax rested his head on Vik’s shoulder.

“Thanks pops…”

Vik wrapped his arm around his son and rubbed his shoulder.

“Anytime kiddo…”

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk v #male v #male v cyberpunk #vax eurodyne #vax kane #viktor vektor #cyberpunk Vik #cyberpunk Viktor #dad vik #cyberpunk fiction #cyberpunk fanfic #dad Vik here to replace my own pieces of shit dads #needed some dad comfort

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gracethyomen · 4 months

Text

"Loose Tongue"

Hello again. It's me. The prophet. Welcome back to two idiots dancing around each other. We're getting into some violence so watch out. This bit is mostly Matt's point of view. I'm not a man and I'm not blind so I'm doing my best here, but please bear with me. Also, my favorite canon character in this series has finally arrived. Mommy Claire, I love you.

Warnings: Emotional instability, violence, mention of violence, catholicism, mentions of blood and injuries. Matt being a major simp. Injuries, blood, sewing wounds, wound care, medical procedures, Matt being a little obsessed with Natalie.

"Daddy!" A small voice, a little boy's voice. Punches being thrown, the squeal of tires around a corner. A knife in his side.

The smell of a garbage dumpster, the numbness spreading from his legs up...

He woke with a sharp gasp, arms flailing at the hands holding him down.

"Hey, it's okay." A voice told him, soft, female. She was calm, she's done this before. She smelled like latex and antiseptic. There were dirty scrubs in the next room. She's had medical experience, a nurse if he had to guess. "We have to get you to a hospital."

"No." He repeated, trying and failing to sit up. He was lying on a hardwood floor, no, a rug between him and the wood. He was probably bleeding all over it at this rate. "They'll kill everyone."

"Who?" She asked, leaning over him to try and keep him from moving.

"They'll kill everyone in the hospital to get to me." A sigh but she put the phone away, sitting back on her heels. "Where am I?"

"You're in my apartment."

"Who are you?"

"I'm the lucky girl who pulled you out of the garbage." She said snidely and confirmed when he asked if she'd seen his face. "Your outfit kind of sucks, by the way." She moved back to grab something.

"Yeah, It's a work in progress." He said, trying to sit up again.

He was stopped by a firm hand on his chest. "Okay, I really wouldn't try to move too much." She scolded, "You've got two or three broken ribs, probably concussion, some kind of puncture wound and that's just the stuff I know about." He felt her pull his eyelid up slightly followed by the near-imperceptible warmth of a light on his face. "And your eyes, they're unresponsive to light, which isn't freaking you the hell out, so either you're blind or in way worse shape than I thought."

"Do I have to pick?" He tried to joke but was cut off by a cough. Damn, his chest hurt.

"You mind telling me how a blind man in a mask ends up beaten half to death in my dumpster?" She asked, poking at the wound in his side.

"The less you know about me the better." He insisted around a groan of pain, stiffening a little on the floor.

"Knife wound?" She asked, shining her light on it to get a better look. He nodded in confirmation as she tended to it, trying not to move too much while she worked. "I think I got the bleeding stopped, but I can't tell how bad it is internally without a series of x-rays, so-"

"No hospitals." He reiterated.

The woman sighed. "This is my night off. I'm really not looking for some guy to die on my couch." She sighed. "You got a name?" Silence. "Yeah, I didn't think so. All right, I'll call you Mike." when he raised a brow she forced a laugh. "Guy I used to date. He liked keeping secrets too."

"Thank you..." He waited and she murmured her name. "Claire."

"Rest." She tapped his chest gently and stood. "We'll figure out the other stuff after." He didn't bother to nod in agreement. Not as the darkness started to take him.

He woke to the feeling of sharp tugging on his side.

"You opened some of your stitches in your sleep. You tried fighting me."

"I'm sorry." He murmured, stopping his pained shifting to let her work."

"I didn't take it personally." She reassured distractedly, focusing on the stitches. "Who's Natalie?" Claire whispered, not looking up from where she was stitching him back together. Matt immediately had to fight the urge to tense up, feeling his mouth go dry with nerves.

He coughed a little, scrubbing a hand over his face. "What do you mean?" He murmured, thoughts going to the scent of jasmine flower and ginger. The smell of her shampoo that always clung to her hair. The feel of her skin under his fingertips when goosebumps raised at his touch. He stomped that train of thought, closing his eyes to try and clear them.

"You were calling out in your sleep," Claire replied, still focused on her task, but undeniably curious. "You woke up a little and asked for Nat, too."

"She's..." He sighed, at a loss. "It doesn't matter." Lie. That was a lie. Of course, she mattered. She always mattered. She mattered the most. But he never let that train of thought get too far along. Even if his heart turned a little at his own words.

"I see," Claire said coyly, smirking faintly. "So she's the girl." He heard her giggle a little, tugging a little too hard on the stitches, making him wince. "Let me guess," She continued. "Tall... dark hair... pretty blue bell eyes..."

"Hazel eyes." He blurted without thinking, fighting the urge to kick himself. Instead, he let out a shaky breath, fidgeting with the blanket draped across him. "Her eyes are hazel."

"So you're a psychic now." Claire joked. "Fascinating. But I was right about the rest?"

Matt shook his head. Unsure of why he continued talking. "Her friend told me. I wanted to..." He swallowed. "I wanted to buy her a scarf. For her birthday. I didn't know what color." He fought a smile at the memory of asking one of the shop attendants which colors would go best with what Foggy had described her as. "She's short." He said flatly. "Her hair's not dark either."

"And what is it?" Claire snickered, and he felt her tie off his stitches before wiping away the excess blood.

His lips quirked in the beginnings of a smile, eyes turning fond as he answered. "Strawberry blonde. Too dark to be true blonde but not quite fully red either." He admitted. He didn't want to tell her that he'd pictured Natalie in his mind many times. Trying to arrange features he thought would fit her voice... Her movements... Her. Just her. Vague guiding touches and friendly descriptions only gave a few pieces to put together.

"Does she know..." Claire paused. "About your-" She broke off. "Hobbies?" He laughed lightly at the word, groaning as it pulled at his fresh stitches.

"No." He said firmly. "No, she doesn't know." He sat for a moment, trying to close his mouth to no avail. The tiredness and the pain made him weak. "I'll make sure she gets home. Stay on the roof of her building until I hear her keys in the lock." He confessed, remembering many nights atop the bricks of her apartment building, waiting to hear her distinctive footsteps on the stairs. "There's a bistro right across the street, Marquette's, the owners know her by name, I bring her leftovers when she forgets to stop for dinner the night before."

"So..." Claire interjected, hands clearing away the mess of her makeshift E.R, tidying the space. "What's the deal? Relationship? Situationship? Burning passion?"

Matt tilted his head back against the sofa, reminding himself why he kept his distance in the first place. Engraving those reasons into his mind.

"It..." He shook his head. "Nothing would ever work between us." A sigh blew out from between his lips, only to be cut short by a quiet realization.

Claire noticed his change in demeanor and carefully sat back, brows furrowed. "Mike?"

"Someone's coming." Matt whispered. "There's someone in the building, a man, going from door to door."

"How do you know that?" Claire asked incredulously.

"Ssh." He hissed, sitting up with a soft groan. "He's on the third floor already. Smells like Prima cigarettes and discount cologne."

"You can smell a man on the third floor?"

"He really likes that cologne." He said by way of explanation. "You'll smell him soon enough." He paused, smiling softly. "You're looking at me like I'm crazy, right? Seems the appropriate response. There are some things I haven't told you about me, Claire."

She snorted shakily. "You haven't told me anything about you." She crossed her arms, the squeak of her gloves on the skin of her elbows hitting his ears. "All I know is you're very good at taking a beating."

"That part I got from my dad." He nodded his head thoughtfully. He tilted his head, then indicated the knife set on the counter behind Claire. "This all you got?"

Claire sighed but grabbed one of the bigger ones, studying it. "Yeah, it's for vegetables, not a knife fight."

He carefully lifted it from her hands and started limping towards the door, snatching his mask from the sofa. "He's at your neighbor's door."

Claire sprung into action, "You kidding me! Hey! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" She stepped in front of him, blocking his way. "You can barely stand up right now."

"That's what the knife is for." He reasoned.

"Wait!" She pushed at his chest gently, trying to put distance between him and the door. "Don't do this. Not in my home. Okay, nobody has to get hurt. Just stand over there on the side and be quiet. I'll get rid of him." Matt pressed his lips together, but nodded in agreement, slipping behind where the door would open.

He listened carefully as she lied to the dirty officer, putting herself in the line of fire for him in a way similar to how Natalie often did. Unbidden, he found his thoughts wandering back to her. Fuck, Claire reminded him so much of her. A little more free, a little more quick to speak, but cut from the same cloth nonetheless.

"See?" Claire sighed, closing the door loudly behind her. "No reason to get all stabby." She wrinkled her nose as she walked past him. "Boy, were you right about that cologne."

"He didn't believe you," Matt growled, slipping his mask on and entering the hallway, snagging a fire extinguisher from the wall and walking to the banister, dangling it over the edge.

"Mike!" Claire whisper-shouted. "What are you doing?"

He held up his free hand to stop her, listening carefully to the heavy footsteps on the stairs before letting the extinguisher go, colliding with Foster's head and knocking him unconscious.

"Shit!" Claire gasped, "What do we do now?" She groaned, gripping her head with both hands.

"There's someone else," He tilted his head towards the floor up from them. "One floor up, watching us. He's young. He's scared."

"Santino?" Claire peeked up around the banister at the teenager, swearing under her breath. "He's the one who found you in the alley."

"He's seen my face too?"

"Yeah."

"Claire." Matt said gently, "Go upstairs and get him. We're gonna need help carrying Detective Foster to the roof."

"This is way past what I signed up for." Claire sighed, pacing back and forth on the rooftop and intermittently glancing at the tied-up man near the edge.

"What exactly did you think that was?" Matt shook his head, hands on his hips.

"Do you really want to get into this in front of him?" Claire snapped back, pulling on her makeshift mask.

"He's out."

"He could be faking?"

Matt tilted his head towards the detective, counting the space between his heartbeats. "No. He's not."

"Okay, that's what I'm talking about." Claire pointed at him accusingly. "Okay, I find a guy in a dumpster who turns out to be some kind of blind vigilante who can do all of this really weird shit like smell cologne through walls and sense whether someone's unconscious or faking it." She flapped her hands around as she talked, finally letting some of that pent-up stress get out. "Slap on top of that, he can take an unbelievable amount of punishment without one damn complaint!"

"That last part's the Catholicism." He listened carefully. "He's awake now. Stay back and don't do anything unless I tell you to." He instructed, "Please. It's safer that way." He turned away from her to stalk towards their prisoner, dropping his shoulders and readying his fists.

"Here's how this is going to work." He started, voice low and dangerous. "I'm gonna ask you some questions. You're gonna answer them. If you're lying to me, trust that I will know and I will be unhappy." He leaned into the detective's space, pinpointing his heartrate and measuring it carefully. "Where's the boy?"

"Dead." Without hesitation he shot his fist into the man's stomach, aiming for that soft spot where the last few floating ribs lived. The satisfying crack was music to his ears.

"This is what unhappy looks like." He snarled, feeling the blood start to roar in his ears, adrenaline taking over. "Where's the boy?"

"What do you care?" Foster groaned, squirming in his binds uselessly. "If he's not dead yet, he will be."

Matt ignored him. "Why did you take him?"

"Figured you'd come running."

"And after I was dead?"

"Sell the kid. Like all the others."

Claire's breath hitched at Foster's words, and Matt's jaw clenched. Without pausing, he landed two quick punches to the man's jaw, drawing a scream out of him.

"I was telling the truth on that one!" The man gasped, blood pooling in his mouth.

"I know." Matt panted, holding himself back from landing more blows just yet. "Where's the boy?"

"So you find him. So what?" The man laughed darkly. "We'll take another. Kill me, somebody takes my place. As long as people are buying, we'll be selling. Nothing you do tonight can change that." The man spat blood onto the asphalt of the roof. "But go ahead. Keep hitting me. Let's see who drops first." He sneered menacingly, and Matt opened his mouth to respond but was stopped by Claire tapping his shoulder.

"Try stabbing him in his trigeminal nerve." She offered.

"Where is it?"

She guided his fingers to the space between his eye and his eyebrow. "That's the supraorbital foramen. You want to go in right under there." He nodded and leaned in close to Foster, pulling a knife from his belt with one hand and holding his head still with the other.

"Hold still," He warned with sinister pleasure. "I might do some serious damage if you squirm." He turned back to Claire for a moment. "How will I know when I find it?"

"He'll tell you." Claire said, and her voice had taken on something darker than was there before.

Screams erupted around the rooftop, feeding that ugly monster in Matt's belly. The monster that thrived on listening to a man who inflicted untold harm on children voice his unending pain.

"You're right what you said before." He taunted, digging his finger into the wound he'd created. "I kill you, somebody takes your place, but they'll all end up back here. Just like you. And sooner or later, one of you is gonna tell me what I need to know." The man thrashed madly but Matt held him fast. "Ssh! Listen, I need you to know why I'm hurting you." He hissed. "It's not just the boy. I'm doing this because I enjoy it." With that, he wrenched the man from his bonds and marched him to the edge.

"No, no, no!" The man pleaded, blood dripping around his eyes and nose. "No, no, no!"

"Where is he?" Matt shouted, shaking him over the edge so he felt the air beneath him.

"Underneath the Troika restaurant!" Foster cried. "Eleventh and forty-fourth!" The man took a few deep breaths and then continued. "If you're lucky, they'll kill you before they start in on the boy. It would be a shame for you to watch what they do to him!"

Matt tipped him over the edge, cherishing the sound of his screams.

He had a little boy to find.

a/n: Hefty dose of plot for this chapter. We're getting to the point where the one-shot I posted earlier comes into play, and as both parts are part of whole chapters, you'll likely see them reposted in the larger storyline. We finally got some Daredevil Daredeviling.

Thank you to everybody leaving notes on the various parts of this story, I love you guys.

As always this story is dedicated to @abucketofweird, without whom this story wouldn't exist.

If you enjoy this story please consider leaving a note or following for more! It means a lot to me when you do!

-Sybil :)

#daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x oc #daredevil x ofc #marvel #matt murdock #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock x you

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