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tteokdoroki · 3 months

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⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. the damage is done.

about. when satoru decides that he wants you (his ex) back, his foolproof plan starts off by making your new partner extremely insecure..

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, non canon, toxic relationships, love bombing, exes to lovers, gaslighting, infidelity, cheating, breeding, fingering, multiple orgasms, couch sex, oral sex ( f! receiving ), unprotected sex, ex boyfriend!gojo, fem!reader.

ex!gojo who slides into the dms of your current partner to slowly make them insecure.

he acts like a nice guy, offers advice on what to do when you’re mad, what you like to eat, how to keep you all sedated and happy. your current partner starts to gush about how cool of a dude satoru gojo is. how could you pass up on such an amazing guy? he’s rich, funny, caring — they can see how you fell for him.

but what they don’t understand is the greedy side of satoru — the one who one who wanted you all to himself. the guy who never let you go out, who made you cry but made you cum with the promise of never hurting your feelings again.

sometimes the advice gets a little too specific. how does satoru know where you keep your sex toys for kinky nights of fun. why does he know the spot that makes you arch your back off of the sweaty sheets just like that? or how many fingers you like to take? or how long it takes before you start gagging on cock.

it makes your new partner insecure, gives them performance anxiety and ruins the vibes of your bedroom. they can’t communicate with you, at least not properly — it leads to fights that are all too familiar. conversations you’ve had with satoru before. your little insecurities and biggest fears are thrown into your face, things they know will hurt you deep down you. these are some of the first times you cry because of your new partner.

it’s all too familiar, these are things you’ve gone through before with your ex — the recognisable twinge in your chest and feeling of guilt after being gaslight is something you know all too well.

“he was right, you really are just a cry baby.” they say. “since he knows so much about you, maybe you should go back to fucking him.” which feels like a bullet to your heart because you’ve spent so much time proving to your partner that you’re over your ex and all the bullshit that satoru put you through. all the drama and all the trauma he left you with.

your partner leaves for the night, leaving you alone with your tears and the tiny voice in the back of your mind that tells you it’s all satoru’s fault. it goads you into calling him, his number which you blocked but kept written down in your notes app in case of emergency. it’s been forever since you last spoke to your ex and told him you wanted nothing to do with him — so you’re surprised when he picks up on the second ring, seemingly happy to hear your voice.

“what did you do, satoru?” his name on your tongue is foreign yet also familiar. you’ve said it a million times before, in many different ways (lust, love and loss) but this time you’re angry. like the last time you spoke.

“what do you mean?”

he plays coy and you feel your temper bubble. “we got into a fight, i know it’s your fault. what did you say to them?”

“shouldn’t you be making up with them?” gojo answers your question with a question, his all-knowing smirk transcending down the static on the line. “why was your first thought to call me?”

that makes you falter, stops your typhoon of rage in its place.

the truth is, you know why you called. deep down you know that gojo could fix this, when you fought as a couple you would always call him first and in tears — letting him calm you down. gaslighting you in the process. he always knew what to say to scab over the wounds of your arguments, patching over deep cuts with little white lies even if he would reopen them and leave mental scars in place.

when you fight with your partner now, you seek the same sort of unhealthy comfort in the only person who you know will give it you and that’s exactly what satoru wants.

“let me come over,” he states, suave. “let me help you fix this.” he takes advantage of your emotional torment, butters you up with the promise of comforting you and against your better judgement — you let him. your partner abandoned you, satoru wants to help you. you’ve always known that he still loved you, at least he wouldn’t leave, at least he’s not like your partner.

regret will come in the morning, you think, when you let satoru into your apartment and back into your life. he knows that everything on the walls are different, the picture frames are now brown instead of white and hold photos of your current life in place of what you had with your ex. the furniture has moved and the diffuser at the entryway smells different. but as much as you’ve tried, you can’t get rid of your ex, satoru gojo. he will always make his way back to you.

he makes sure that you’re aware of this when he kisses you on the couch that you kept from your previous relationship. satoru tells you that you’ll always need him when he pins your hips to its leather with a strong arm and buries his white head of hair between your warm, thick thighs. he proves it to you with the way that his tongue licks broad strokes against the entire length of your sex and flicks at your clit because he knows that how you like you it, he knows you’ll cum in seconds if he eats you out like that.

there’s going to be a stain in the couch from just how much more you gush on satoru’s skilled fingers and tongue, as he moans against your sopping mound and tells you how he’s the only one who could ever make you see stars this way. his face gleams with your arousal and his eyes sparkle knowingly because it’s true. you’ve never felt as good as you have with satoru in comparison to anyone else. it puts doubt in your mind, makes you question why you even left him in the first place.

though, you don’t have much time to dwell on the thought…because in hurried yet precise movements — gojo is making you cum on his fingers again. the rough pad of his thumb possessively writes the letters of his name against your pulsating clit — hardened by blood that rushes to it, carrying lustful hormones from your frenzied mind. he loves how you taste when you cum, how you cling to him, how he knows that you’ll never forget this phenomenalfeeling after tonight.

it’s a little too intimate for two exes when satoru makes you ride him. his legs spread wide while you straddle his lap, creating the perfect angle for his cock to nudge against that one special pleasure spot inside of you. you’ve missed his cock, it’s perfect length and thickness — it’s pretty pink tip that oozes so much precum that’s all for you. it’s only ever been for you.

the way satoru’s large palms cup the globes of your ass and guide you back and forth over his lap unlocks a nostalgic and loving feeling in your rapidly rising and falling chest. he kisses you with so much passion that you’re reminded of the good nights you spent with him — making love until sunrise while his tongue rolls over yours and licks at your teeth. you’re naked and chest to chest, noses becoming neighbours while the course of your breathing syncs up. it’s overwhelming, how adored you feel in the moment, all while fucking your ex on the couch.

you grope at each other like it’ll be the final time you ever have sex like this. your hands settle at the base of satoru’s neck and his on your waist while you languidly move together in a salacious dance routine you’ve done so many times before. you’re perfect partners, it’s evident in the way you reward his throbbing cock with dribbles of your creamy arousal — droplets of soft white running down and catching on veins on his shaft.

“i’m always going to love you, baby,” satoru’s soft laments echo through the home you’ve made with your over lover — barely audible over his balls slapping against your peachy ass and your cunt selfishly squeezing down on him, squelching with every thrust. “i’m always gonna want you like this, even when we fuck up. e-even when we’re not together,” he growls and rambles, blissful blue eyes darting all over your face twisted with ecstasy and right down to where you paint him with arousal and suck him in so well. “fuuuck, i wanna cum…s-say you want it, say you want me.”

it’s overwhelming, how much love you have for satoru. for your ex. it washes over your feelings of guilt in regard to your infidelity, any bad emotion or thought of your partner cannot compare to the burning and bright lust that flickers in your tummy. when you fuck yourself down on gojo’s throbbing girth he pulls back out of your snug, salacious sex — creating a delicious cycle of friction that you never want to forget. that you miss so bad.

“i want…i want you!” you stutter, tears brewing in your starry eyes. “i miss you, i love you,” the words rush out of you before your hazy mind can even catch up and register them. you barely manage to register that you’re fucking your ex just mere hours after arguing with your special one. it doesn’t matter, not right now and not in this moment. not when satoru teases your clit until you’re able to cum all over him, painting his thighs with your slick as you slump against him.

even though he shouldn’t, even though he’s ruined your relationship, gojo cums inside your quivering cunt. fills you to the brim with his viscous, scorching seed and there’s so much of it that it seeps from your entrance — pooling okto the couch below.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“come back to me, baby.”

“i…i don’t know if i can…”

you want to so badly, especially the damage is done, sealed by stolen kisses that’ll mean nothing in the morning.

satoru’s gotten what he wanted, to make you question your relationship and remind you of why you should come back to him. you fell asleep an intertwined mess on the couch and he leaves in the early hours of the next day.

all so that your current partner will never know the events that occurred on the night of your fight — you don’t have to heart to tell them when they come back the next morning with your favourite flowers and an apology. they shouldn’t have left you. they shouldn’t have gone to satoru behind your back. they love you.

but it’s already too late, a seed of doubt has been planted in your mind by your ex. you release that you still want him, that you might even miss him and the foundation of your new relationship becomes shaky and unstable.

you’ve grown insecure and you will always be comparing your current partner to your last partner. to gojo.

and your lover? now they’re insecure too, because you’re always so distant and you always smell a little different when you come home these days.

because you’ve started going behind their back to be with your ex, satoru, too.

#tteokdoroki #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk thirsts #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing

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rileyslibrary · 7 months

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(Can i just say i love ur work, i too read them like bedtime stories, u perform a great service to humanity my good comrade)

Also, could i request perhaps Reader needing to go undercover for a mission and getting a bit too close for comfort with some baddies and thus making Ghost worry? He’s certainly not jealous by any means tho, of course not! Nope. Not jealous at all. Not even a smidge.

He is tho. He’s jealous. In his own Ghost way.

Thank you for your kind words, nonny and sorry for being so late!

Reader is an undercover tourist in Paris for this one. No warnings, other than a pretty sulky Ghost. More A/N at the end.)

———————————————————————

He hasn’t uttered a word since you returned to your temporary base. No “good job,” no “well done,” no “thank you for risking your life for the team.” Nothing. He didn’t even stick around for the debriefing. Instead, he stashed his gear in his locker and headed straight to the kitchen.

Usually, after a high-stress operation, Ghost would go to the kitchen to make some tea. Yet, the way he went about his business today seemed more like he was about to sharpen his knives than brew himself a ‘cuppa’.

There is a reason he’s upset, though, and you know it. While you are always prepared to risk your life for the team, your latest actions were pretty... out of character, so to speak, and Ghost took notice of that.

You stare at the closed kitchen door, wondering what’s unfolding behind it, how he feels, and whether he can communicate it without lashing out.

“Maybe it’s best to give him some space,” Price advises, narrowing his eyes. “You did a pretty risky thing back there; no reason to push your luck.”

“A whole kitchen’s worth of space, Captain?” you retort. “I’ll evacuate if things take a turn for the worse.”

“Call for backup if you can’t handle it,” he winks at you. “And don’t tell him I did that,” he says, pointing at his closed eye.

You smile at him, and push open the kitchen door. Ghost sits at the table, his back turned towards you, hunched over a cup of tea. He has his balaclava draped over his right thigh and his gloves on the table.

“Your hair is a mess.” You tease.

You reach to fix the stray hairs hanging over his forehead, but he pulls away from your touch. You lower your hand and go for the kettle instead. This will be much more difficult, you think to yourself.

“Coffee?” You offer. Although you know he’d refuse, you feel it’s a good way to break the ice.

Yet he doesn’t reply. Instead, he reclines on his chair and stirs the tea with a metal spoon. With your back turned to him, you pour the preheated water into your cup, add coffee granules, and cool it down with a gentle blow. The clinking of the metal spoon against the ceramic mug continues until it suddenly stops.

“Are you alright, mademoiselle?” He mocks, with a fake—and quite terrible—French accent, mimicking the enemy guard who “rescued” you when you dramatically pretended to twist your ankle in front of him.

A chuckle escapes you, and you turn to face him, leaning against the kitchen counter. He keeps his gaze fixed on his cup.

“I had to buy some time for Soap and Gaz, Lieutenant,” you explain. “They were inside that safehouse, gathering-”

“Intel,” he interjects. “I was there too; no need to rehash it.”

“The guards were dangerously close, sir,” you press on. “There was no time.”

He shakes his head. “No time doesn’t mean dropping to your hands and knees like a coquette, bawling your eyes out, waiting for a French knight in shining armour to come and save you now, does it?” he spats.

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Coquette’? You? He knows damn well the fall was staged, the tears were fabricated, the vulnerability was an act. The fall did hurt; otherwise, it wouldn’t have been believable. But shedding tears over twisting your ankle? No way. You’ve endured bullet wounds in the past, for heaven’s sake, and barely flinched. Ghost knows that. Yet, he looks more…

“Jealous, Lt.?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.” He murmurs, scratching his forehead.

“Say what you want,” You shrug. “But you must admit: it was a pretty convincing fall.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Nothing says more ‘convincing’ like kissing the cobblestones of Paris.”

“Alright,” you say, leaving your cup on the kitchen counter. You cross your arms in front of your chest and nod upwards. “What would you have done, then?”

“Shoot him,” he responds, his black-painted eyes shifting from the cup to you. “That’s why I was up on the rooftop, remember?”

“What’s the point of going undercover if you’d eliminate the threat like that?” You persist. “And in a public place like that? Come on, Lt.!”

He pushes his cup to the side, places his hands on the kitchen table and stands up.

“Have you ever thought of what would have happened if your cover was blown?” He asks, raising his voice. “How was I supposed to protect you if you were right in front of my bloody target?”

You keep staring at him, his last words replaying in your mind.

How was I supposed to protect you…

You look at your mug on the counter; the steam from the coffee is almost gone. It must have been transferred onto him instead, you think to yourself. Might as well let him blow it off. Let him vent.

“I know how to protect myself, Ghost.”

He sits back on his chair and brings his tea closer, shaking his head.

“You should’ve waited for the signal.” He says. “We’ve got a plan for a reason.”

“I understand, s-”

“Falling in front of the enemy, letting him scoop you up like a fucking princess in agony, removing your shoe, fetching you ice from the coffee shop wasn’t part of the plan.”

A smile threatens to escape your lips, but you suppress it. You turn your back to him and pretend to clean the counter. There’s no reason to anger him more.

“Sir,” you begin. “What is the problem here: me not following orders or letting the guard run to my aid?”

“I don’t care about that French prick touching your ankle.” He murmurs.

Well, seems that ‘French prick’ touching you bothered him as much as you not following the plan. You stop fake-wiping the counter, grab your mug and turn towards him.

“I apologise, sir,” you say. “It won’t happen again. But you could have voiced your concerns in a less... abrasive way.”

“Wasn’t the pavement abrasive enough?” He snaps. “What’s next? Are you going to cry over it?”

You click your tongue and approach the table, extending your hand for a handshake.

“Alright, enough,” you say. “Let’s make a truce and end this right now.”

He remains still, looking at you. He finally reaches for your hand, but instead of shaking it, he twists it so your palm faces down. With a smirk, he stands up, brings it to his mouth, and kisses it.

“Isn’t that how that fucker would have done it?” he asks, still smiling.

You roll your eyes. At least his anger has died down and you’re left with his—typical—snarky self. You pull a chair across from him.

“Mind if I sit?” You ask.

“Normally, I’d tell you to ‘hit the bricks’,” He murmurs, motioning for you to take your place. “But you’ve already done that.”

———————————————————————

A/N: I keep confusing “ankle” with “uncle”. You twist your ankle, not your uncle ffs.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley #call of duty #cod mwii #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod mw ghost #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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imagine reader always trying to make hotch flustered for the fun of it and then one day she is losing a lot of blood and hotch asks her what her type is and she answers with "you" nsjsja (also pre relationship)

(also also I loveeee everything you write for hotch it's always so good !!! and I actually cannot get enough🤭)

MWAH thank you!!! you're so sweet <3

You've been told that your comedic side comes out at the wrong times. You're a natural tease, your tongue moving faster than your head to razz whoever you're speaking to. Typically, it all blends together; it's just normal. But with Hotch? He's different.

He's different because he tries not to laugh at your jokes. He tries to keep his composure, thinks that maybe if he just ties his tie tighter that morning, it'll hold his face in a frown and a smile won't be able to escape. No matter how hard he tries to resist amusement, though, you know he feels it.

Perhaps that's why you're so harsh on him. Why you steal a seat next to him on the jet just to peer over his shoulder, asking if he's texting a hot date. Why you knock feet with him under the table, gasping dramatically and asking him if he's trying to play footsie with you. He acts tired of it, sighs and scoffs and grumbles but his cheeks go red every time, and you take it as a win.

What's less of a win is the bullet in your shoulder. It's hard to think about much else now, just the searing pain above your arm that makes you want to chop the limb off completely.

Your knees give out and you crumple to the concrete beneath you while your team moves in. Derek handles the arrest, JJ and Reid keep their weapons trained on the unsub just in case, and Hotch darts to your side.

"Hey," He huffs, tugging your knees out from under you so that you're sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall behind you, "Hey, keep your eyes open, okay? We can fix this, this isn't-" He presses his hand into your wound and you wince, "This isn't as bad as it could be."

"Yeah," You rasp, peering down at your red-stained shirt, "'Coulda been wearing my favorite top."

"Head back," Hotch commands, pointedly ignoring your attempt at a joke, "You're loosing blood fast. What's your type?"

Your head feels fuzzy, but you're not far gone enough to miss that opportunity. You muster a sleazy smile, blinking hazily at him, "Mm, you, boss."

"Shut-!" Hotch scoffs, almost a snort, scrunching his face in a poorly-withheld grin and knocking it against your good shoulder. He takes a moment to laugh, and you're sure the adrenaline coursing through his veins is the only reason you're getting such an open reaction from him.

"Shut up," He musters, a weak smile on his face as he lifts his head again, maintaining steady pressure on your wound, "You can't take anything seriously. You just got shot."

"With Cupid's arrow," You gush, and if you had the strength to lift your arm, you'd cup Aaron's cheek, "Thank you for saving me my sweet prince."

"Don't ever call me that again," Hotch lets out a sound that's somewhere between a groan and a laugh, "Careful, L/N, the medics aren't here yet. If you keep teasing me I might take you down."

"Do it!" You beg, your own laugh wheezy and weak as you manage to grab hold of his tie, "Please, sir, take me!"

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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m-musings · 27 days

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Crawl Out Through the Fallout with Me: Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard X Fem! Reader

A/N: never played an official fallout game in my life but i still love this man so it's time to bullshit some stuff, let's gooooooo

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: After a fight with raiders, a argument between lovers ensues when one of them gets hurt.

Warnings: typical fallout vibes, mentions of fighting, blood and wounds, pre-established relationship, Cooper being Cooper but also being a bit ooc, this is cheesy as hell and def not canon compliant lmao

"Damnit, (Y/n), just what the hell were you thinkin'?!"

An upset voice rang out into the evening air of the Wasteland as a pair of figures rested up inside the crumbling walls of an abandoned building.

Lit by the fading light of the sun, (Y/n) hissed in pain as her irradiated companion tried to sew a sizable gunshot wound on her arm shut.

As he passed the needle back and forth through the gash, the girl rolled her eyes with an exasperated groan as a few rivulets of blood rolled down her arm.

"Gimme a break, Coop! Did you wanna be the one to be shot?! I don't- ow!- think so!"

During a journey to find their next cash-out, the partners were ambushed by a large group of raiders & fiends. After managing to get rid of most of them, one had managed to sneak up and send a bullet flying straight for Cooper.

Noticing the weapon before Cooper could even turn to see the shooter, (Y/n) dashed over and shoved the ghoul out of the path of the shot, causing her arm to be hit instead.

Now- a few hours after killing the remaining enemies- they took shelter in a decrepit shack in order to patch themselves up in peace and rest for the night.

"I'd still be better off than you are right now. I mean, for fucks sake, darlin', I'm a ghoul. I've been through worse than just being shot at."

"Well then, that's the last time I try to be helpful. Next time, I'll sit back and relax while you get absolutely slaughtered by raiders, how about that?!"

"Go right on ahead, see if I care! Now, hold still. Can't close this cut if you keep on squirmin' around." Cooper huffed as he gave the suture one final tug before snipping the end off with a pocket knife and tying it into a knot.

After he was finished, (Y/n) rolled the pain out of her bicep before reaching into her bag to grab a somewhat clean cloth to wipe up any remaining blood.

With a sputter of her lips, she got up from her spot next to Cooper to sit upon the old mattress in the other corner of the room in order to apply a stimpak to herself. It wouldn't be enough to heal the wound completely but it would be enough for her to be able to use her arm properly.

Satisfied with the sight of her flesh knitting back together, Cooper finally relaxed in his chair as he crossed one leg over the other.

"Now don't go doin' anything that stupid again, y' hear me? Don't wanna have to use any more stims than we have to."

"I just... don't understand why you're so worked up about this. Something like this was bound to happen eventually, it's literally a warzone out here. A scar or two isn't unusual." (Y/n) griped as she fell back onto the bed while crossing her arms.

"Yeah, for someone like me it isn't. But it shouldn't ever happen someone like you. You shouldn't have to get hurt like that..." Grumbled Cooper as he leaned back against the wall.

"I'm not made of glass, Coop, I can handle a few hits."

"Don't care. You're way too valuable for me to lose."

(Y/n)'s glare softened at that, realizing the true intention behind the cowboy's scolding was worry. As Cooper sets up a small lantern on the floor to combat the growing darkness, (Y/n) watches the man with a fondness gleaming in her eyes.

"Is that what this is all about? You didn't wanna see me get hurt?" Whispers the girl as she turns onto her side.

Although the action is rather subtle, the ghoul's body visibly tenses up as he fixes his gaze away from the woman across from him.

"I never said that."

"It's clear that you thought it, though." (Y/n) chuckled as she softly grinned at the cowboy.

Heaving out an irritated sigh, Cooper hunches over to look at her as he readjusts his hat.

"What do ya wanna hear from me, sweetheart? That I care about you? That I love ya? Well, if you don't know that by now, then you might be much dumber than I thought you were."

"Hey, I resent that! You'd be lost with me and you know it!"

"Sure I would. Just like how you'd do great out there if you were all alone."

(Y/n) shakes her head with a scoff before she gets up from the mattress to walk over plop herself onto Cooper's lap after he sits back down on the beat-up dinner chair.

As she shuffles into place, Cooper places his hand on the small of her back to ensure she doesn't topple over. He silently glances at her face, analyzing her now troubled expression as she fiddles with the lapel on his duster.

Mouth opening and closing as she tries to find the words to say, she presses her lips together before finally speaking her thoughts.

"Y'know, I worry about you too... I'm always so worried that there's gonna be a day where that one gunner you miss is gonna be the one that gets you." (Y/n) admits sadly as she rests her head on Cooper's shoulder.

Cooper's eyes widen slightly and peer down at her as he begins to rub a hand up and down her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"Hey now, look at me. That'll never happen. Not on my watch."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I got too much to fight for. I already lost one family to this nonsense and I'll be damned if you get taken away from me too. I'll fight tooth and nail before I let anything touch me or you again, understand?"

"But why? What's so special about me?"

"If I allow you to get hurt anymore, I will never be able to live with myself again. I love you, so...so much, darlin'." Cooper states with a resolute nod.

(Y/n) eyes water and crinkle with a gentle smile before she leans up to place a couple light kisses upon his charred lips, which he returns immediately upon receiving.

"I love you too, Cooper..." Mutters (Y/n) as she closes her arm around his shoulders.

With a laugh rumbling in his chest, Cooper wraps both of his hands around her waist as he holds her as close as he can.

"Your sweetness is what's gonna be the death of me one of these days, doll... Not some dumbass bullet." Cooper jokes quietly, placing a kiss atop her hair & resting his head on hers as he rocks back and forth to lull her to sleep.

Listening to the calming sound of her breathing as she slumbers, Cooper thinks about how lucky a man like him is to have found a love like (Y/n) in such a desolate situation.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard #fallout the series #fallout imagines #fanfic

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ew-selfish-art · 10 months

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Dp x Dc AU: Jazz Fenton, after years of fixing her brother’s injuries, becomes a Doctor with an inclination towards behavioral health and psychology- In order to make the difference she wants to see in the world she joins Dr. Leslie Thompkin’s practice.

Jazz Fenton, M.D. has spent years of her life doing research, doing the hard work and the emotional labor, and finally, finally, she’s joining a practice she can feel 100% confident in. She’s goddamn good doctor and she wants to make the biggest impact that she can.

Dr. Thompkins (who insists that she call her Leslie as they’re colleagues now), is a kind woman, sharp as a tack and keeps her practice open at odd hours to help the most unfortunate. It took some time for them to bond and trust to be built, but now Jazz is being allotted a few night shifts here and there.

It’s incredible. Jazz gets to spend time with the kids who come in and really talk to them (in addition to getting them antibiotics, heating pads and pokemon themed bandaids) to help equip them with a few coping skills. Her passion for psychology never disappeared after all, but the expansive knowledge of how to heal the human body has made her find a sense of fulfillment like no other.

Having proven herself and worn Leslie down, Jazz now takes up about 1/3 of all the night shifts in the month. She’s hoping to get to 50/50 by the end of the year but she’s content with what she has. Danny keeps odd hours anyway so calling him after work on her walk home can happen any time of day and he will always answer enthusiastically.

It’s a particularly busy night before he comes in. The Red Hood.

He was known for being an ally to Leslie, despite being on contentious terms with the Bats, but Jazz had never asked directly. Never one to turn away a patient with bullet hole wounds, she hops into action to get his wounds cleaned, sewed up and gauze wrapped. She’s handing him a sheet (an Infographic! Dani made it with her! Graphic design is her passion!) on how to care for his wounds when he first seems to recognize that she’s not Leslie.

“No, Of course not. I’m Dr. Fenton. I can’t blame you for not remembering but I did introduce myself as you bled in the entry way. You’re Red Hood, right?”

“Hm. Didn’t realize the practice was expanding. Where can I find-” He grumbles before pushing her hand aside from where she had still been supporting his shoulder.

“Hold on there, mister. You’re going home, you’re following this infographic and you’re going to get some sleep.”

“Lady you don’t know-” His voice modulated ton came across antagonistically. As if he was trying to intimidate her. Ha, Jazz rolls her eyes at the inclination.

“Who I’m talking to? Who I’m dealing with? You’re hilarious. I can eat you vigilante’s hero complexes for breakfast. Tell me who I’m calling to pick you up and then you can say thank you.” Jazz snaps at him. It really had been a long night but his whole dialogue thus far is making her a bit batty.

“Oh really Doc? You know Leslie’s tough shit, and from what I can tell you’ve got nothing on her-”

“Trying to make me feel insufficient when I just saved your life? That’s cute. I’m sure a lifetime of abandonment by both of your parental figures gave you that. I’m also sure that you inherited this desire to prove you’re not going to be dependent on anyone who wants to help from whoever got you dressing up in tights to fight crime in the first place. Again, I’d love to talk at length about how predictable you-”

“Bwah- wait- I’m Predictable? You’re probably some nepobaby who had parents who told her she could have the world-” But Jazz cuts him off with hysterical laughter- he couldn’t be further from the truth. Her parents loved her, but nepotism? With what, the ghosts? If anything she got that from Danny, but he doesn’t need to know about her ghostly titles.

“You’re just some guy who came back from the dead and made his trauma everyone else’s issue. So shut it. And tell me how I’m getting you home from this clinic.” She seethes though her voice stays devastatingly level with each word.

Speechless for a moment, he eventually relents to Jazz that he’s already called for help on the comms but it will be hours before they can come for a pick up. The sun had already come up and the night had been over for most of them before Hood had walked into trouble. She groans and the realizes the time for herself and the empty clinic around them.

“Fine. My shift just ended anyway. I’ll get you home in one piece and I swear to all the ancients that you’d better follow the directions on the infographic.”

And that’s how Jazz ended up calling her brother while supporting the weight of a grown ass man (who no longer wanted to talk to her) on her walk home.

The next time Red Hood appears in her clinic, he’s brought a dozen roses in addition to the cut on his neck that definitely needs to be pressurized like ASAP. Did he stop for the flowers on his way to the clinic? He’s going to pass out from blood loss! She doesn’t even like roses!

#ehehehe #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #anger management #jazz fenton #jason todd #she still loves psychology but its a back pocket tool to her knowledge as an emergency medicine provider #jazz is ready to throw hands because becoming a princess during med school sucked ass #she did not have the time #but she loves and supports anything danny is doing sooo...#danny is currently attending gotham u for engineering but lives across town so they just call everyday #he sees her on her off days and always brings her tons of fast food #jason is immediately smitten with the woman put him in his place #the pit maddness was barking up a storm this entire convo but she got him home and he was like holy fuck im in love #jason todd said she saw right through me and that shit was hot #yes he totally stopped to grab (steal) flowers on his way to the clinic #dick picks him up this time. sees the flowers and is like oh cool its my turn to wingman for my lil bro #jazz is worn down by sweet gestures and the fact that hes legit so nice now when he comes into the clinic #he quotes poetry at her sometimes and she's like omg did you just make that up? she's never read poetry a day in her life #only medical textbooks and psychology papers #long post

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shotmrmiller · 3 months

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since i'm rambling about self inserts? (is that it?) now you're miserably turning over on the bed, pulling the comforter over your head because you wasted a whole whopping 70$ for MW3 only to get an unfinished game and a piss-poor half-assed shock value main character death.

You fall asleep thinking about what you'd do differently- how johnny wouldn't die so needlessly, maybe even convince Captain Price to let Johnny put a bullet in Makarov's head in that helo.

And when you wake, your surroundings are different. The bed is too small when yours is a king, the innerspring mattress creaks when you sit up, even though you explicitly bought a memory foam.

The walls are spartan instead of the personalized decor you had. Looking over the edge of the bed, the floor isn't carpet. It's an ugly, white vinyl tile.

Where the fuck are you?

Your hands are callused but the only time you even got one was when you tried your hand at gardening, only to eventually realize you could kill a cactus with your brown thumb.

Hopping out of bed, you beeline to your bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. Almost everything is the same. Eyes, hair, body, height.

Only difference is your flesh. It's littered with scars- both old and new. A thick, pink jagged line across your clavicle (a blade?), a puckered star shaped keloid above your hip bone (A gunshot wound?)

Stepping back out into the room, you carefully survey the space around you. A tac vest you swear you've seen before hangs on the back rest of your small chair.

Two black glock-19's sit on the desk. How do you know that? You don't know lick about weapons.

There's a large sheathed blade by your nightstand table. Didn't Rambo have one of those?

Suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. You're dreaming. Jesus. Maybe you should start reading some smut fanfiction before bed to get Simon in your-

A knock at your door pulls you out of your degenerate thoughts.

oooookay.

Padding quietly to the door, the metal of the handle feels shockingly cold. How wildly vivid.

"Ye- what the fuck?"

What the actual fuck?

"Language."

...

Your mouth gapes in utter disbelief. "Simon?"

His dark eyes narrow behind his skull mask. "Chummy, are we?" He steps forward, forcing your neck back at an uncomfortable angle to keep your eyes fixed on his. "You and I, Sergeant, ain't friends. It's Ghost to you. Clear?" he snarls.

You swallow thickly. "C-Crystal, sir."

He tips his chin forward. "Get decent, I'm to take ya to the debriefin' room."

what?

"Now."

Spinning on the balls of your feet, you hastily dress, and grab the vest on the chair. UK flag on it. Tactical. Heavy as hell.

Your hands move on their own, and fingers smartly clip buckles, pull up zippers and close the pockets- as if you've been doing this your whole life.

What is happening?

When you get to wherever it was you were going, you're met with more recognizable faces.

Captain Price stands in front of Laswell, bulky arms crossed as he speaks to her in a hushed tone.

Gaz sits on a chair with his head hanging back as he blankly stares at the ceiling, trademark cap in place.

And then there's- "Bonnie!"

Johnny.

"Good to see Simon dinnae eat ye on the way here."

Simon Ghost doesn't react to the jibe at all.

Why are you sitting in the middle of the 141 listening to Laswell debrief about Hassan? Why aren't you waking up yet? You're lucid. The sharp sting of your nails digging into the palms of your clenched hands isn't dulled.

"Good hunting."

This can't be happening.

This isn't real. The heavy helmet strapped to your head. The weight of the bulky tac vest full of equipment. The painfully tight straps around your thighs. The way the rifle feels in your hands, solid and dense.

Not real.

Until you're offloading with Bravo Team in Al-Mazrah on the search for Major Hassan. The tall grass grazing your pants, the NVG's over your eyes to help you see in the dark. The harsh recoil of a weapon you've only ever used in a video game. The gurgling sounds of the enemies as they choke on their blood by your feet. The bullet whizzing past you, clipping your cheekbone. The burning sting of it, white-hot pain.

Real.

It feels fucking real.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #kyle gaz garrick #john price #is it self insert? idk

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writing-makes-me-human · 1 year

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HEYYYYYY

I couldn't help but see your requests were open l😏

So I wanted to ask for a human reader who Neteyam finds but he goes to kill her and she kinda charms him so he stops?

Then they become mates, the story and stuff is all up to you but yeahhhh that's my idea

I LOVE YOUR WRITING BTW AND I HAVE READ NEARLY EVERYTHING!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Thank you for the lovely words and your support it gives my writing purpose <3

Here is your request, I really hope you like it!

I named it Charming Killer after your request.

ps: If people have put in a request it is on its way!

┍━━━━━»•» 🌺 «•«━┑

Pairing: Neteyam x reader

Part Two

Summary: You get chased into the wilds of Pandora with a broken communication collar and a bullet wound, but Neteyam finds you. He goes to kill you but an omen from Eywa stops him, and as he approaches you he realizes you are his destined mate.

Warnings: blood and injury were mentioned, nothing else.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: I’m taking a quick little break from writing for the same two series and breaking out to some requests. Check my master list for my posting schedule for Love and Guests. And what are we feeling? Part two or keep this as a one-shot? (God why did I just offer to create a new series but also this is such a cool idea and I want to write more)

Neteyam didn't like humans, and he never had. His mother had raised him to stay away from them as much as possible, and he had obeyed to keep her happy, but as he grew up and his siblings came back from ventures to the human labs that lay beyond their village with stories about Norm and Max in their human forms, he found his simple obligation of dislike turn into hatred.

Neteyam avoided all of the dream walkers that operated in his village to the best of his ability. His father advised them not to bother his eldest son or his wife, which they respectably agreed to. Still, even if they weren't around him Neteyam could always feel their presence, and it irked him.

One day, this feeling cropped up in his mind as he was out in the rugged outback of Pandora, hunting a stray tapirus for his mother.

He jumped from a tree to the ground as he continued to track, but then as Neteyam pressed his fingers into the newest set of prints in the dirt, he smelt it.

It was the distinct smell that often surrounded humans, something of a mixture between an unnatural chemical smell and wafts of artificial scents that attracted them to one another. Still, to Na'vi, the smell was a distinct warning.

He raised his head, abandoning the hunt in favour of locating the emitter of the stench that was offending him.

He followed his nose for a few meters, and then with the tip of his bow, he dipped a low-hanging branch to divulge a clearing.

There, standing in the middle with not a soul around was you, trying to aid an injury to your lower arm and fix a device at the same time with only one working hand.

He quirked his brow in confusion. He had never heard of you from his father, which only led to one conclusion: you were a sky person under Quaritch's jurisdiction.

He watched you for a few seconds to take inventory of what you were doing all alone in the middle of Pandora without a jarhead next to you with a gun. He could tell immediately you were not military because you were pacing around in a circle, speaking a mile an hour to yourself, using words he didn't understand with no sign of a weapon anywhere on your person.

His eyes dipped to your arm, which you were clenching shut as blood dripped onto the ground and soaked itself into the fabric of your shirt.

You were in shock from what Neteyam could interpret in distinction to your actions. The wound didn't seem like it had come from an attack by any beast on his planet because you would surely be dead if that were the case.

The injury looked like a bullet wound which only charged his curious streak further, but you were human, and one less sky person on this planet was a plus for his cause. So, he nestled down on the ground and silently replaced the branch so he could pull back his bow and aim his righteous arrow at your head.

He felt his heart beat in rhythm with your steps as you desperately tried to fix a communication com device with one hand, fighting against the panic that was starting to take your breath away.

The wilderness was vast, and you could feel the race against time fight in opposition to the blood which was slowly collecting a trail by your feet.

He let out his breath and readied the shot, but before he could let it go, a seedling from the tree of souls floated into his vision and landed on his hand, a silent plea not to fire.

He was stunned for a few seconds and held his posture, but when the seedling took off again, he finally let his hands relax and brought the longbow back down to his lap.

He was captivated now as he tried to lean closer through the foliage to see your actions. Eywa had spoken, and he would not kill you.

He thought back to the story his mother had often told her children about how she met his father, and his nose scrunched up at the similarities between the two stories.

He decided he would not take you to his father, and he would leave you here. If Eywa didn't want him to kill you, that was fine but he wouldn't become responsible for your safety.

He had filled his hunger for curiosity, and the thought of returning to his hunting materialized in his brain. With that in mind, he turned to step away, but as soon as he moved, another seedling crashed into his chest, making him stutter back in an effort not to crush the precious soul.

The sound of crunching leaves caught your attention, and you rotated on your heels in the direction of Neteyam. He kept his head low and out of your sight before he shook his head at the seedling which hovered in front of his face.

You couldn't see anything, but the sound was distinct, so you darted your eyes around to try and find anything to defend yourself with, but your search was broken when you found a white seedling floating just to the side of Neteyam's hiding spot.

You gasped as two other seedlings joined the beautiful sprite. They all floated towards you, pushing air down as they climbed higher and higher up on their way to you.

Neteyam let his eyes leave the seed in front of his way and looked towards you. Your face was lit up at the sight of the seeds, and it seemed their appearance had taken all of your focus off the pain and the gadget in your hand because you softly stepped forward to greet the specimens.

He watched as you steadily reached out a shaky hand to the wood sprites, laughing uneasily as they all gently landed along the uninjured arm.

You looked so excited at their presence, and that confirmed his suspicions of your scientific origin.

You took another step forward, and Neteyam cursed mentally as he turned to leave, but again, the seed of Eywa stopped him with its stagnant stature. The sign was clear. He had to speak with you. He rolled his eyes and held back a sigh but acted to comply with the great mother's desires.

He stood to his full height and stared at you with a frown. You still hadn't noticed him, but when he smacked the lower branch away and tramped forward, the white sprites took off and left you to yearn after them with a sad stare.

What was so special about you? He wondered. You were just another arrogant human who was part of an unkillable mass that had arrived here with an open palm.

Your eyes then fell from the vacating pure souls and settled on the 10ft Na'vi in front of you, which caused a shriek.

Immediately you stumbled back and tried to start protesting for your life at the sign of his lethal bow, but you stopped when you noticed he was staring at you with an unwavering eye filled with mystery.

You called something to him, but he only understood the odd word. You had jumped straight into elucidating that you were not a threat which made him want to laugh.

Of course, you weren't a threat. You were standing here like the perfect prey for any number of predators to pounce on and devour. He could kill you with a single toss, and the idea that he feared you was amusing him.

He took another step, and this time you crouched down, letting your hand leave the wound to try and coax him to stay away from you like he was a stray animal that could be redirected.

The bright blood on your hand shone in the light, your face was pale compared to the rest of you, and he felt a pang of pity for you, making him scowl at himself for his stupidity.

He stepped forward some more, his tail flickering behind him with agitation as he pulled the bow over his head and let the string fall over his chest.

"Who are you?" He growled as he marched further into the clearing.

His body was tall and very masculine, his muscles hugged his body as he looked down at you with contempt, and those were your only thoughts as the Na’vi man looked ready to murder you.

Your face wrinkled in confusion as you shrugged one of your shoulders at his words, your head shook from side to side in order to tell him you had no idea what he was saying.

He rolled his eyes at your conceited unknowingness, but just as he was about to start yelling at you, he paused as your scent hit him.

The standard note of human was definitely there, but there was something else, something sweet that had him hooked the second now that it registered in him.

At first, he thought you had used some chemical warfare on him, but when your confused face only intensified as he took a carnivorous inhale at the air, he knew the fragrance was only coming from your skin.

He took another stride, and the movement triggered your fight or flight. You tried to stand to run, but he grabbed your intact arm and gently yanked it forward, making you drop the communication device to the ground with a clatter.

You tried objecting to his harsh handling of you and cursed at him in English. He ignored you, and without further conversation, he shoved his face into the crevice on your neck and pushed your jaw up with his forehead so that your neck lay before him with no guard.

He took deep whiffs of your scent and nestled deeper so he could bring in as much as his body and the restrictive oxygen mask you were wearing would let him take. His tail flicked wildly behind him as he tried to commit the smell to memory. It smelt something crossed between a sugary treat and a warm fresh wood scent that made his brain fizz with the desire to have more of it closer.

He could feel your heartbeat on his cheek, but he ignored it. His need for the scent consumed him. He was only brought back to reality when you let out a whine at his very close touch that was making you uncomfortable.

He ripped his head back and shook it wildly, trying to shake off the remnants that tickled his brain. Your eyes that had originally been looking at him with confusion were now eyeing him up and down with uncertainty.

He dropped your arm and felt his body surge at the loss of touch. You faltered backward as he let you go but didn't try to run again, which he appreciated.

He was attracted to you, that was certain, and it made his body lurch with disgust, but before he could spend longer than a few seconds being disgusted, the scent of your skin drilled its way back into his brain, and he was overcome with butterflies that attacked his stomach.

You spoke again; this time, he identified the words 'Na'vi' and the name Max from your speech. He cocked his head, and you watched as his braids fell to one side of his head as he brought his face closer to yours to stare into your eyes.

You took a step back, but he followed you. He decided to ignore whatever you were saying and let his exploratory nature grab hold of him. He extended his head around to stare at your body, and you let him touch you as he pleased with your chest heaving in anxiety that at any moment he would have his fill of interest peaked and he would draw back to kill you.

His fingers came to your waist and gripped the lower hem of your elastic shirt, and pulled at it before letting it snap back, which made you smile a little despite the fear raging through you. Perhaps the blood loss was making you hysterical.

His ears twitched at the sound of your giggles that accompanied the smile, and his scrutinizing eyes turned softer as he reached forward and repeated the action, letting you huff with amusement.

He continued his curious search of you and let his fingers prod your cargo pants. You watched with your own set of prying eyes as he leaned down so he could gather the material between his fingers and rub it together to feel the texture. He let it fall back into place and pulled himself back up to his full height, which made your smile falter as you reminded yourself he was not a curious child and was a fully grown Na'avi hunter, if his bow was anything to go by.

The silence was loud, but it communicated volumes. You could tell by his erratic behavior that he wasn't going to kill you, but he was clearly fighting an inner conflict with his actions.

You didn't know much about the natives, but you knew one thing that had been hammered into your head since orientation day on this planet, Na'vi killed sky people on sight, and this man didn't look like he was reaching for his bow anytime soon, so what was he doing?

You tried your luck and reached out your hand to poke his bare chest before quickly retracting, making him let out his own small chuckle at your scared actions. You smiled cautiously before you reached out and ran a finger over the string of his bow that dug into his front, watching his chest shiver at your touch before you finally pulled back and stared up at him.

He let his smile disappear, and his frown replaced it as he stuck out his hand to grab your oxygen mask, but this seemed to be a step too far because you pulled back and quietly said something he didn't understand, but he knew it was a denial.

He was satisfied with his investigation and pulled himself back to look down at you while you awkwardly returned your hand to clutching the hole in your body that wasn't meant to be there.

Neteyam felt the pity in his heart worsen at your predicament, and he decided that he wanted to help, even though his naturally taught ethics told him it was wrong. He knew that the only reason his body was reacting to you like this, along with the cause of the omens from Eywa, meant one thing, but he was trying to suppress that epiphany for the moment.

He couldn't understand your language enough, but the device that lay on the ground behind him was obviously crucial to you. Hence he walked over to it and picked it up, this caused a chain reaction as you stumbled forward and tried to take it back from him with a yelp of protest, but he placed his hand on your forearm and gently pushed you back, which calmed you down enough that he could look at the tool.

He stood up and held the com to his face to see if it was fixable. Jake had a few of these around, and Neteyam had to wear one for a long time when he was younger, but this technology was slightly newer than anything Neteyam had seen for a while.

He flipped the collar over in his palm, and to his surprise, he immediately zoned in on the issue. The chip that powered it was simply dislodged and needed to be adjusted, so he pushed it back gently and shook it a few times, much to your aggrievement, and then when the red light sparked back to life he crouched down and placed it in your hands.

Your eyes widened in surprise as the collar was now partially workable.

You looked up at him, and his breath caught as your beautiful eyes gazed into his own with such pure gratitude in them that it made him want to keep you close to him forever, as his mate.

And just like that, the epiphany broke the surface of his mind and his pupils swell as he realized why you smelt so divine and why your laugh made his body weak. You were his mate. Even without the means to make the neural link or any of the accompanying features found on Na'vi women that were deemed as attractive, he knew as he observed you desperately press down on the com and speak into it that you were his destined partner.

The intercom sparked to life, and he heard the sound of Max's voice come through it. This interaction only worked to intrigue him more than last time, as he tried to figure out what you were doing all alone out here with a broken body, seeking out the rouge scientists.

You quickly yelled back to Max with relief overthrowing your face, which made Neteyam smile again as he watched you let out a consoled chuckle.

You spoke for a few more seconds, and Neteyam let the sound of your strange accent wrap around him before you broke his trance and held up the collar to him. He quirked a brow, but you shook the device in your hand and nodded for him to take it.

He gently took the end of the com and brought it to his ear so he could listen to Max translate what was happening to him in Na'vi.

Max was shocked to find out it was Neteyam who had saved his exposed spy from Hell's gate, but he described your issue to Neteyam, and he agreed to take you to the laboratories on the edge of his village so you could be patched up.

He returned the device and pulled off his bow to set himself up to walk you through the wild to the labs.

You hadn't understood Max's translation, so you pulled the com closer and tried to remain polite as you smiled up at Neteyam, but he could tell you were not pleased with the improvised escort that was surely threatening to your tiny stature.

When the conversation was over, you sighed and dropped the intercom to your side, gripping it tightly as you looked back up at Neteyam, who was now tying his hair of individual braids up with a hair-tie while holding the bow between his teeth.

He looked like a beautiful angel from your angle as he effortlessly strung up his hair, showing off his triceps and pecs while his canines were left exposed around the wooden bow. He pulled an arrow from behind his back and fit it into the bow. Neteyam then set off into the woods again, with your body mindlessly following the god-like boy.

You watched him move; he was the most graceful thing you had ever seen. His attitude was strange, and while you couldn't understand a word he was saying, you finally identified his aura as one of interest and possible endearment rather than intimidation.

He looked over his shoulder and called out a sentence to you that once again you couldn't understand but you just nodded and tried to sustain his pace.

He looked over his shoulder every few steps, but it was clear you were struggling to keep up with him as the pain from your injury was now becoming prevalent thanks to your adrenaline levels being brought down.

Neteyam grumbled something under his breath but turned to you, sliding the bow and arrow over himself again as he stepped towards you.

You backed up a little as his alarming size came toward you, but he reached out and gently touched your shoulder so you could see that he was trying to suggest an idea.

"You're never gonna get there if I don't carry you, come here", he stared into your eyes, repeating the sentence at least three times before he tut his tongue in annoyance and reached down to hoist your legs into his arms so he could carry you bridle style.

You screeched, and his ears flickered at the sharp noise before you hissed out and clung onto him as tightly as you could while he rose you high above the ground. He could feel your heart rate speed up, and he was dumbfounded as to why you were reacting this way to him just holding you.

You said a word, and it rang a bell in his head as he tried to remember it.

Oh, height.

He quickly put you down, and you tried to relax your breathing after being speedily hauled into the air by about 7 or 8 feet and then replaced just as swiftly.

You tried to balance yourself on his leg as you felt your heart calm down, heights weren't your strong point, but you had to agree that it was going to be the best way to get there with the time restraint your injury put on you.

He spoke something else as he crouched down, putting himself at eye level with you.

"I can't understand you!" You hopelessly whimpered as your hand came to rest on his shoulder so you could try and take the pain off your other limb.

His ears downturned at the sound of your desperate groaning, and he remained silent for a second, looking off to the side in thought.

You took a deep breath, dragging his attention back to you. You stared into his eyes for a second before you nodded and held out your arm for him to take with a single word.

"Slow", your eyes tried to show bravery, but your body was still shaking like a leaf under his touch.

He felt a part of his body twitch at your word that was paired with heavy eye contact and an out-of-breath tone, but he ignored it.

This time he went much slower as he swept his hands underneath your thighs and lifted you into the air. He allowed you to get a good hold around his neck so that you weren't afraid of falling, lying to himself that the touch was for your comfort and not his own.

When you were to live with him once you agreed to be his mate, he had to get used to going slower with things. It was lucky for you that he had probably the best patience out of any of his family.

You weighed nothing to him, so he set off as soon as you were steady, and your fear slowly gave weight to amusement as his long legs steeped over each obstacle in his way that would have taken you minutes to clamber over with your one arm pinned to your side.

The whole way there, you could feel his grip around the lower part of your legs tighten when you tried to clamber closer to him, and you wanted to apologize for invading his space and deterring him from his task that he would have had to abandon to help you, but the words couldn't come out.

It took about twenty minutes of heel-and-toe walking before he finally managed to get you to the lab's opening.

Upon seeing the large metal containers, he screeched to a stop, and you looked at his face with confusion as he seemed to have caught your fear like a contagious disease as his face scrunched up. He didn't dare go any further.

Neteyam let his hands slip under your armpits and gently set you down on the ground. He looked down at you and then glanced at the containers behind you.

You were a sky person, and while he couldn't deny that you reeked of his mate, this was the most unlikely pairing anyone had seen.

You called out to him, not by name, as he hadn't told you, but he finally sighed and slid back down to a crouch as he found he had to do a lot when talking to you.

"I will be back for you, my mate, until then, look after yourself better, now go get patched up", he pressed one of his hands into the side of your head, and you lovingly pushed against his palm with a sad smile as you took his words as an apology for needing to go.

"Thank you--" You trailed off as you tried to use the silence to ask for his name.

"Neteyam", he stated with that boyish smile overtaking his features again.

"Neteyam", you repeated as you nodded, feeling the skin of his rough palm rub against you.

"You?" He found the word in English and spoke it with a heavy accent, making your smile turn to a grin.

"Y/n", you stated with a gleam in your eye.

"Y/n", he said the name verbatim to you and nodded to himself as the sound of a door opening ruined the moment.

He quickly pulled back from you and stood back up, allowing his height to take over the silent threat as Max stood on the steps to the metal lab with his hands raised to show he was unarmed as he called out to you and asked if you were all right.

"Goodbye, y/n", Neteyam’s accent was incredibly thick, and it made your skin shiver as he quickly put his fingers to his forehead and retracted them in a respectful farewell before he turned on his tail and walked back into the wilderness of Pandora, leaving you alone with your own kind.

#x reader #fanfic #neteyam imagine #neteyam x reader #neteyam headcanons #avatar 2022 #avatar x reader #avatar way of water x reader #avatar way of water #avatar #neteyam #xreader #pandora #awow fanfic #awow x reader #awow imagines #way of water

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centaurianthropology · 11 months

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One thing that I think a lot of Disco Elysium meta misses (likely because a lot of it is very clearly written by young Americans writing from an intensely American-centric cultural perspective without even really realizing it) is that one of the singular and central themes of the game is massive-scale generational trauma in a home that is economically collapsing as its resources and people are being drained by an occupation. People have noted that no one tries to help Harry, despite the fact his mental illness is incredibly obvious to everyone around him. He tells Kim that he completely lost his memory, and Kim politely asks him to focus on the work. He tells Gottlieb that he had a heart attack, and Gottlieb tells him that if he’s still alive it couldn’t have been that bad. That he’ll drop dead sooner or later, but then so does everyone.

And that’s the most important thing: so does everyone. Look at Martinaise. Look at the world in which Harry lives. It is not our own, but it is adjacent to ours. More specifically, it is clearly adjacent to the states of the Eastern Bloc: overtaken and occupied by a faraway government that clearly doesn’t care about Revachol or its people. And that is obvious in every tired face, every defeated citizen, everyone trying to eke out a little happiness or meaning in spite of the overwhelming trauma and damage around them. The buildings are still half-destroyed. The bullet holes are still in the walls. The revolution was decades before, but it still feels to the people there like a fresh wound. The number of men of Harry’s generation who are not alcoholic or otherwise deeply fucked up are very few. Some, like Kim, hide it better, but the deeper you dig into his history, the more you realize how damaged Kim is. He’s more than a little trigger happy, and hates that about himself, but he is a product of his environment: Kim’s entire life is seeing people he cared about shot and killed, so his instinct now is to shoot first himself, to protect those few people left who still matter to him.

Harry is not unique in his trauma. He is a distillation of an entire culture of people who tried to rise up and make something beautiful, and were instead routed and occupied. He is trapped between the occupation and the people on the ground, along with all the rest of the RCM. Their authority comes from the occupying government, but it is implied that they were formed out of the remnants of the citizens militia which sprung up from Revachol itself as a way to try to mitigate some of the horrors being committed on its streets. The Moralintern sure as hell wasn’t going to get their hands dirty, so they happily conscripted (and therefore could better control) this group, who are only recognized in certain places, and whose authority mostly amounts to giving out fines. The RCM is corrupt, but it is corrupt in the same way its culture is. Bribes are considered standard with them, not a moral failing, but a necessity, so long as those bribes are correctly logged as ‘donations’. It’s how the RCM stays afloat, and the rest of Revachol completely understands that. Everyone would take a bribe if it meant they kept eating. Everyone would take a little under-the-table money if it meant keeping a roof over their heads. The officersof the RCM certainly don’t make enough to see a doctor. They have an in-house lazarus, and if he can’t fix them they just die. Mental health care? What mental health care? Harry doesn’t get it for the same reason no one else does: it doesn’t really seem to exist. There are no counselors, no psychologists, no psychiatrists. How would they even start? If the world is what is broken, if everyone is suffering a similar catastrophic amount, it makes sense that Harry’s trauma would simply get rolled up with all the rest. Kim asks him to get on with the job because Harry’s suffering is not remarkable in Revachol. He is one of an entire generation who have an astronomical number of orphans from the revolution, and so many younger people are left more or less orphans as their parents drink themselves into oblivion like Cuno’s father. So Harry’s truly unique attribute is embodying all that trauma, having it all inside of him, filling him to bursting.

To really engage with the themes of the game, engaging first and foremost with the reality of Revachol is imperative. Imposing our own reality onto Revachol, particularly if coming from an American perspective (which tend to have the habit of both viewing the world through an American lens and not realizing they’re doing it because they’ve never experienced a different lens), will always feel shallow to me because of this.

All that is to say, I would love to hear some more explicitly European meta about this game, and especially Eastern European meta. If anyone can point me to some good, juicy essays from that perspective, I would be grateful!

#Disco Elysium #is such a good game #but I found a lot of the meta around it frustratingly shallow #and very VERY American #which is also frustrating #given how clearly Eastern European the roots of this game are #I have no problem with people using a game or other work of fiction to inform their own lives and experiences #but I find it strange when people engage with the game #as though it was coming from an American perspective #asking why certain things happen or didn't #based on how they would play out or have played out in America #anyway this a rambly way to request some meta from other cultural perspectives #I am very interested in reading it!#Disco Elysium meta

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fleursbending · 1 year

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𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥, 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲. | Neteyam Sully

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 : Hi, I was wondering if you could write a Neteyamxhuman!reader where the reader takes the bullet for Neteyam, so they transport her soul to her avatar and they become really emotional upon waking up and seeing her human body, dead and they all (sully family and metkayina clan) have a funeral for her human body. Neteyam comforts her and mourns with her??

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : neteyam x human!reader (eventual na'vi!reader. sully family x reader, ronal x reader (platonic).

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : thank you @karmascale for requesting this! this was a challenge to write and i hope i did your request justice! i did a few minor tweaks just to make the story flow better. this slightly deviates from the original plot in the movie! feedback is once again, much appreciated - i love hearing ur guys thoughts! this piece is my prized posession 😭😭😭 if there's any mistakes pls lmk! reader is gn!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : atwow spoilers, blood, funeral, angst, mourning/grief, eventual fluff, gsw, death, detailed descriptions of pain/slipping in and out of consciousness, seizure.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 5.6k words

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @odessa-is-my-queen

closely helped me through writing this so here is something to listen to if you want to get even more immersed ↷

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄. That's the only thought that had been drilled into his mind ever since your body had struggled to stay afloat after jumping off the ship.

The once crystal clear blue waters were now tainted with an angry scarlet colour. Neteyam did not know what the source of it was. His heart had sunken, missing a beat when your head had not popped out of the water to cheer with the rest of them.

"Wait, where's Y/n?" Neteyam, panted as he tried to catch his breath.

Prior to all this, he had expressed how you should have gone back to Awa'atlu. But your eyes had a fire that even he couldn't shoot down. His family by definition was yours as well. You just couldn't sit this one out, not this time.

Your struggled gasps answered his question, your head bobbing back underwater only to resurface seconds later.

"Nete, I think I've been shot." You groaned in pain, as you struggled to stay afloat.

"You are such a skxawng, Y/n!" Neteyam cried, immediately swimming over to your side as he helped hold your much smaller body up.

"Hey, that's not nice." You tried to retort jokingly, only to cough up blood right after you had finished your sentence.

You weren't supposed to be there. Your link machine was experiencing issues, Norm was fixing it. Tuk, and Kiri, had brought you out to the ocean as you waited. You've been begging to see baby Ilu's ever since the Metkayina clan allowed you, Norm, and Max to stay behind after Kiri's seizure. Now seemed like the perfect time to do so, but they couldn't have been more wrong about their decision.

When you three had seen Lo'ak rushing off to warn Payakan about the tracker. Your friends not trailing too far behind him, you all joined too. You believed Lo'aks words from before, you didn't know such brutal consequences would come from such actions.

It was you and Neteyam who fled to drop the tracker further away, only to witness in horror as your friends were trapped in a net, being lifted by Ikrans and dropped on the large ship.

Only months ago were you all held captive, but the stakes are larger than life now. You were horrified. Neteyam curated a plan, only on the ship to cut them out of their restraints. Then you'd all head back together. But Lo'ak wanted to save Spider, and a sky-person turned Na'vi was blocking your freedom back into the water.

You weren't supposed to be there. He thought he got you out there safely, how stupid of him to think that.

His amber eyes caught sight of your gunshot wound when he and Lo'ak pulled you on top of Tsireya's Ilu. His world was crumbling around him, and all he could do was apply pressure.

"It hurts!" You grunted, the pain like nothing you've ever experienced before.

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry, Y/n." Neteyam shushed you, trying to give you some comfort while calming his own worries.

His father's words began to repeat in his mind from the training lessons he used to teach his kids when they were far younger. This one focused on sky-people and the type of weapons they use. The damage it can cause.

"Son, a bullet wound is deadly - only if there is an exit wound."

How did a bullet even hit you? It should have been him. Now he felt like he was paying the price.

Neteyam cursed to himself, yaymak.

"We must bring Y/n back! They can help them there!" Lo'ak interjected, trying to get everyone's attention. He was worried for his friend who wasn't even in their Avatar body. The tensions were through the skies that gloomed down on you all.

Tsireya, clutching onto her dear friend for life - nodded hastily. Yipping at her Ilu, they made haste back to their village.

Neteyam previously thought his greatest loss was the time he missed out with you. But now there was a chance of truly losing all of you. He couldn't bare the weight that train of thought held over him.

When his parents had told them that they'd have to leave all they'd ever known. He knew you wouldn't follow in their footsteps. They didn't even have a foolproof plan. And it would be too dangerous for you, your avatar was not ready yet.

He wanted to stay, but his family needed him now - more than ever before. They wouldn't allow it anyway.

"I will wait for you, Nete." You had told him, speaking so softly. Your words were full of warmth, full of promise. You sounded so sure, and it reassured him so much. He was utterly devoted to every fiber of your being. You already encompassed his entire mind. Each decision he had been making lately that would benefit his future, always circled back to you.

If he closed his eyes he'd still remember every minor detail of that day. The day he had to say goodbye. It was gutwrenchingly beautiful.

You stood on a tree trunk, and he wanted to curse Ewya for having to make humans wear masks. Because as your tiny hands grasped his face, his fists clenched in sheer desperation to caress yours. But he couldn't, not with that damned mask in the way.

Instead he opted for tucking a stray braid behind your ear, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. His hands hovered over yours above his face, before grasping them. You'd never get over how they dwarfed yours, how it felt to bask in his warmth. It felt like a reminder from Ewya that you were destined to be together.

You could see the tears he was trying not to shed, and feel the way his hands were slightly shaking. His ears laid flat, tail hung low. And it felt like a punch in the gut, a harsh reminder of not knowing when he would come back here.

The fear of not knowing when you'd be in each other's presence again.

His gaze kept traveling between every feature of your face. The boy did not have any artistic ability in his bones, but he'd be utterly dumb to not remember every minute detail that he had fallen for.

This wasn't earth, there were no devices that could reach as far as they were hoping to go. No mailing system. They'd have to rely on their trust for one another this time.

With purpose, you held his chin. "I. Will. Wait. For. You." You had annunciated every word.

Determination flickered in his eyes, and his hands held onto your mask, the part that covered your cheeks. You blushed, he'd never done that before.

"I will wait for you, Y/n." He declared as his forehead met yours.

"Come on, bro!" Y/n suddenly said, wait what?

His shoulders were being shaken, and he was brought back into the harsh reality.

"Hop on!" Lo'ak tugged on his arm, as he and Spider waited for him. Neteyam swung himself onto his Ilu. They raced back to shore.

He briefly saw Ronal ushering a member of the Metkayina clan who was holding his Y/n, into a mauri.

He started to head towards them with Spider when he realised Lo'ak wasn't following. He quickly turned around and beckoned him over, only to witness him hopping back on his Ilu.

"What are you doing?" Neteyam hissed at him.

"I have to go back for Tuk and Kiri! They are still there, mum and dad as well." Lo'ak explained.

"I'm coming with you." Spider walked back over, Lo'ak wanted to argue about it - but knew they didn't have time.

He could see the conflict in his older brother's eyes.

"I got this brother. I know that doesn't feel reassuring. because I usually don't. But this is our family, I won't fuck this up." Lo'ak insisted, he didn't want to risk a slim chance of potentially losing anyone else.

"Lo'ak...-" Neteyam tried to change his younger brother's mind.

"Please, trust me. You're going to regret not being here if Y/n gets worse." Lo'ak contested, he knew he was right.

Neteyam shut his eyes, taking in a deep breath. Contemplating his choices, he knew what he had to do.

"Go, but be alert. This isn't a raid back home!" Neteyam said.

Lo'ak nodded in acknowledgment, turning his Ilu and heading back to the ship in the distance along with Spider.

When they were nothing but a speck in the distance, he quickly rushed over to the mauri he saw Y/n and Ronal enter.

He rushed in, his heart somersaulting at the sight before him. You were pale, too pale. Your chest barely rises up and comes back down. He could tell you were on the verge of losing consciousness.

"Please mother, let me ask for the humans!" Tsireya begged as she continued to try to stop the bleeding.

"Fine, go get them." Ronal allowed it, continuing to do her ritual.

Tsireya was about to get up, but Neteyam stopped her.

"I can do it." He mumbled.

He made sure his comms were on the channel that had a connection with both his parents, Norm, and Max.

"Norm, Max.-" his voice choked up.

"I don't know what you are doing right now, but Y/n is dying. I need you to come to the chief's house, now! I don't- I don't know what you need to bring but just what you can! Please!" Neteyam pleaded as he fell by your side, his fingers running through your hair.

Blood splatter was speckled on the inside of your mask, and you blinked slowly in response to his barely there touch. Gazing up at him, a pained smile graced your face.

"Neteyam, is that you?" You asked.

"It's me, I'm here," Neteyam replied, tearing up at your whimpers of pain.

"We're on our way! Eta is 3 minutes!" Norm's rushed voice sounded through his comms.

"Tell her we are here. I am here." Neytiri's voice sounded forced, holding in the emotions she was truly feeling at that present moment.

"Okay, okay. Mom is with you, she is rooting for you. You hear me, Y/n? We all are!" He hoped his words were giving you strength, he felt like anything he could potentially do wouldn't be enough. Neteyam could only pray to Eywa that his mother would be okay after what she had just heard.

Neytiri loves you like you were her own, to this day she cannot pinpoint why she held such prejudice towards Spider but not you. Maybe because his father killed her own and the fact he had destroyed her clan's sanctuary.

Your mother and father were fierce, in a sense they were seen as warriors through her eyes. Alongside Trudy, they had pioneered the revolution against Colonel Quaritch and his followers. Y/n's mother had worked side by side with Grace, while your father worked on the front lines.

Right before the battle, she had confided in Neytiri.

"I am with child. If anything ever happens to my family, please take care of her." Neytiri took this newfound information in and agreed, deep down only hoping for the best. They were some of Neytiri's and Jake's greatest allies.

But Y/n's father was killed taking a stand, and with too much sorrow in her heart. Y/n's mother carried you to full term. Only to pass away after being with you for the first three months of your life. Neytiri nurtured you alongside Neteyam. She too just like Neteyam, could only pray to Ewya that you'd be okay.

"I'm scared," you spoke so quietly that if he wasn't as close to you as he was. He wouldn't have heard you at all.

"It's okay to be scared, I've got you. You're going to be okay." Neteyam emphasised with you, trying to offer more alleviation to such a dire situation.

"We're here- fuck." Norm cursed, as Max unpacked a few things.

"Nete, I'm tired. I want to go to sleep." Drowsiness was tempting you, and the pain was beginning to fade into nothingness.

"No! You must stay awake!" Neteyam tapped on your mask, but your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

You started to seize.

Ronal and Tsireya continued to chant, as Norm turned her on her side.

"There's too much blood, Max!" Norm shouted.

It poured out like a languid waterfall, strangely just like some of the ones back in the forest. He felt the dread tugging at him, he was losing you.

He held your head to stop you from potentially hurting yourself even more when suddenly your body slumped. Your breaths come out in wheezes.

Neteyam could no longer hold back his tears, he had never felt so helpless and petrified. He wished the rest of his family was here, in a room full of people - he felt stranded.

Max clocking onto this, pitched out a thought. "I don't know if it will work, but I have an idea." He held a flashlight above Y/n's eyes as he spoke.

"What is it? We'll make it work." Neteyam insisted. He would do whatever it takes to be able to rid you of this agony.

Ronal eyed the boy, understanding his struggles. Then stared at the humans who were fumbling over Y/n's body, using foreign devices.

"You wish to transfer Y/n's soul to their avatar," Ronal replied as she listened to your heart. It was weak, but still persisting.

Max gaped at her, the Tshahik must have put two and two together.

"We cannot save Y/n from these injuries, they are fatal. That is the only way." Max further explained, not meeting Neteyam's eyes. He knew what he was suggesting was an ultimatum larger than life. But he could not see any other way, you were already advancing further in succumbing to your wounds.

"What you are asking of me is something that has only been done a few times, not once has it been performed in our clan. As the Tsahik I cannot guarantee this will be successful!" Ronal protested as she continued to tend to you however way possible.

Tsireya continued to plug Y/n's wounds, listening in, as Neteyam hesitantly let go of your hand. Moving to Ronal, he kneeled down before her.

Ronal noted one thing, the eyes she was looking into were drastically different from how she remembered them moments ago. Now it was untamed, yet persistent.

"I know my family has caused enough destruction. I know you never wanted us here in the first place. You believed we would not do our part, and I cannot fault you for thinking that way. We have learned your ways, adapted like my father did." He then motioned to you behind him.

"So will Y/n. In your eyes, sky people come from demon blood, but their parents fought on Toruk Makto's side. They made a difference, just like Y/n has started to do here. Y/n is an excellent fisher and healer. The children in this clan have warmed up to them. Because that's the effect they have on people! I swear, if you give them this second chance, they will be forever grateful. And if it doesn't go the way we wish for it to, I will not put the blame on you. The decision of whether or not she passes through the 'Eye of Eywa' only lies with our great mother." Neteyam held his chin up high, not bothering to wipe away the tears that began to stream down his face.

Ronal looked at Neteyam for a few more beats, before shifting to look at you.

"Prepare them for travel, we do not have much time before they get too weak for the transfer." Neteyam cried out in relief, thanking the great mother as he moved back over to you.

"Stay with me, just a little more Y/n," Neteyam begged, squeezing your hand encouragingly.

"I can't feel anything Neteyam, please I'm scared." You whispered to him, and he tried to put on a strong face. But he couldn't even imagine how scared you must be if he was already paralyzed with fear. All he could do was pet your head. and give you continuous kisses on your hair and forehead. Ewya, please be with us right now.

"Where are they?" Neteyam could hear his mother calling for them outside.

"In here!" He beckoned them over.

"Tsireya, get your father and gather whoever can come with us. We must leave to the Coves of the Ancestors, now." Ronal advised her child.

She quickly halted what she was doing and dashed outside of the mauri.

Neytiri's hand fell to her mouth at the sight of you, weeping as Jake whispered comforting words to her.

"Mother." Neteyam looked up at her, not knowing how to proceed from here.

"Ronal, may I bring her on my Ikran?" Neytiri in just a single moment changed face. Time was of the essence.

"Yes, you have not been where we are going. Follow along with us." Ronal commanded, gathering her things and getting ready to ride.

At this point you were slipping in and out of consciousness, but Tsireya had been able to temporarily stop the bleeding. Neytiri cradled you in her arms as she walked outside, calling for her Ikran.

The Sully family and Metkayina clan made their way to the Cove of the Ancestors. Ronal could not shake the feeling she had thought. That no matter what - they would end up holding a funeral there tonight. She dared not to voice such feelings.

Neytiri stayed leveled, flying closely side by side with Jake and Neteyam. She kept looking down at you through the short journey, checking on you. She wasn't the only one who was doing so though. Neteyam as well kept a close eye on you. Sometimes his Ikran would brush too closely to Neytiri's. She let it slide this time.

The last time Neteyam was here, you were in your Avatar body. You both had a deep love for sacred places to the Na'vi, and this one wasn't any different. Neither of you has heard of the place before, but it didn't squash the appreciation you both had for it. He recalls not just being in awe of his surroundings, but also of you. Your eyes held something remarkable, full of wonder. You'd given him one of your big grins, the one that only comes out in times like this. Your deep appreciation for monumental sites like this made him think of how your heart was just pure gold.

"You'd make a great Tsahik one day", is something he had cheekily said to you. In return you gave him a smack on the shoulder, scolding him. He harbored such great memories from that day, he loved it. He could only desire to relive that instead of all this.

The wind swooshed in her ears, but Neytiri faintly heard you say, "I like it here." She grinned down at you tearfully.

Truthfully, you don't know much about where you came from, to you - Pandora was and always will be your home. Nothing could compare to the beauty it beholds.

"Me too," Neytiri spoke wistfully.

You all were approaching the spirit tree, submerged in the ocean. It glowed like no other. The clan began to make a circle around it, linking their arms.

"Jake, we have their avatar!" Norm called from a rock not too far from the tree that they were safely able to land on. They had left before everyone else to get there ahead of time.

Jake flys down to them, retrieving your avatar.

Neytiri and Neteyam go to the same rock. They step off their Ikrans as Neytiri treats them like a feather. Your whimpers of discomfort do not go unnoticed.

Ronal and Tonawari approach them with a large leaf of sorts.

"You may place her in here," Tonowari told them.

You looked peaceful, too peaceful. You were placed in the leaf, as Ronal began to float you closer to the Spirit tree. The Sullys closely followed behind their Tsahik.

"Jake, attach their avatar to the spirit tree" Ronal ordered.

Jake nodded, placing a mask on your Avatar and activating it - an idea of Norms and Max as you would be underwater for an unknown amount of time. He connected your queue to the tree, the closest he could to the surface.

"We must put them to sleep for the ceremony to start. If you'd like to say anything to them, now is the time." Ronal gave you moments of privacy, swimming over to members of the Metkayina clan to further explain what was going on.

Neteyam couldn't remove his eyes from your Avatar that was shifted with the current of the ocean. Swaying whilst attached to the Spirit Tree, he'd never seen your Avatar look so lifeless.

Jake waved him over, "Neteyam, they are asking for you."

Tuk was crying, her head leaning against your own. You quietly spoke to one another, even while in agony - you managed to make the youngest Sully giggle.

Neteyam drew closer to you, even if you were facing away from him. Like clockwork, you felt his presence. Your head slightly turning to acknowledge him.

Tuk moved back, latching onto Lo'ak as she cried into his shoulder. The entire Sully family have given words of encouragement to Y/n, Jake especially - explaining the process and how it felt passing through "The Eye of Eywa". He could only pray you'd get that far. He was truly hoping this wouldn't be a repeat of Grace Augustine.

"This is not goodbye. When you wake up, I will be by your side the entire time. You are not alone. Oel ngati kameie." He stated, headstrong - like his father.

Neteyam wanted to wipe away your tears, he wanted to lean his head against yours without the obstruction of the mask. He realised that very soon, it could be possible. If you make it through this, that is.

"Neteyam I-I, Oel ngati kameie." You stuttered, voice cracking. That was all you can manage.

Ronal expectantly surveyed the Sullys, Neteyam nodded. It's time.

"We will now begin the consciousness transfer. Neteyam, connect them to the Spirit Tree. You may rest for the time being, Y/n." Ronal announced, everyone, witnessing their mighty Tsahik.

Your eyes fluttered shut, Neteyam looked at his family, before taking a deep breath and bringing their limp body to the Spirit tree.

His eyes widened as one of the leaves reached out, attaching itself to your back. Eywa, are you here? A comforting hand met his shoulder, his foundation. His family.

The Sullys linked their arms as Neytiri and Neteyam held onto you.

The Spirit Tree was alive, its light brightening a tenth fold. Flickering, as it seemed to react to the chanting of the clan. The Sullys could only cling onto each other more tightly as each leaf on the spirit tree lit up. It was fascinating to witness, they were just hoping it would work.

Before they knew it, the lights ceased. Ronal from above the surface halted everyone, before diving down to where you were. Tonowari, Tsireya, and Ao'nung trailed behind. They all looked to you expectantly, hoping for any sort of sign.

Gasping you awaken, struggling to catch your breath as you immediately check your surroundings. Neteyam almost choked on the water as your eyes opened, he tried to get your attention but you were too lost in your own world.

You were in the water, but how were you breathing? The mind-numbing pain was gone, and you definitely felt different. You were trying to remember and process whatever had just happened. Oh yes, the ceremony. It must have not worked, you're still wearing a mask.

By instinct your hands move to cover your face in shame, instead, you see that it's your avatar's hands. You tilt your head down, the legs, feet! It's all blue. Did it actually work?

Neteyam swan closer to your side, pointing upwards. Signing to you to swim up to the surface, you nodded. Detaching your queue, you made your way to the surface - the Sullys except Neytiri followed behind closely.

This time when your head pops out from the water, there is no bullet wound. You weren't bleeding out, you were truly Na'vi. You've miraculously been given a second chance at life.

You removed your mask as grateful tears streamed down your face. You gaped at Ronal and the Metkayina clan, "Thank you, thank you so much." You spoke to them all, signing "I see you".

When you reached Ronal, you brought her into a hug. The soon-to-be mother of a 3rd child was in shock, looking at Tonowari. The man could only grin, urging his mate to return the hug. And so, she did just that.

"Y/n!" Tuk screamed in delight as she swam over to you, you disconnected from Ronal. Mouthing "thank you again", she let a smile slip as she took in your words.

You hugged Tuk, looking at Neteyam over her shoulder. He was looking at you, differently. It was expected that he was always more attentive towards you. It felt all too similar to when he tried to remember every piece of you before parting ways. He was in disbelief.

Neytiri came up from behind Neteyam, a large leaf in her grasp as Jake helped console her.

Neteyam let Y/n lean their head on his shoulder as he squeezed you, kissing your cheek. They all realised what exactly, or who Neytiri was carrying.

Your human body.

You didn't want to look, it felt far too strange to do so. While your avatar still held features very similar to that of your human self, most of what resembled your parents felt futile. It just wasn't the same anymore, and it never would be again.

You felt grateful that you were already aware of how it felt to live amongst the Na'vi in an Avatar body. Navigating this body isn't rocket science, you've been in and out doing so these past few months.

Tsireya comes, with a handful of flowers and seashells. She delicately spreads them around in the leaf.

"In our village, we give back energy to the ocean, the sea will allow their past self to rest peacefully." Tsireya indicated to the ocean floor beneath you all that held a yellow glow.

Neytiri leans her head down, kissing your now-closed eyelids. She felt a sense of deja-vu creeping up on her. Her family follows her actions, all of them kissing your eyelids, their own unspoken version of goodbye. As Neytiri and Jake brought your human body down to the sea anemone that awaited for you, all you could think and wish for - was more time.

You didn't understand why the circumstances had to be like this. As you watched that version of yourself begin to disappear, it physically felt like a part of yourself went with it.

Y/n no longer felt naive to Pandora. They knew more than most about this beautiful luxury. Now that they'd been gifted with a body that was stronger, and more capable. They would stand with their chin held high and fight. Just like their parents had done.

Slowly everyone disperses, making their way back to Awa'atlu. Neteyam can see how drained you are, he silently beckons you to follow him. They make their way back to his Ikran, flying back home.

Everyone's asleep. You had tried to do so yourself, but you only got a good hour in before being awoken by the thoughts circling your mind. Poor Neteyam was exhausted, so it didn't take much for you to escape from his hold and make your way outside.

You let yourself sit on the shore, gazing up at the twinkling stars and endless skies. Squinting your eyes, you saw someone making their way back. Ronal.

Her cyan eyes widened seeing you, hopping off her Ilu she walked over.

"Can't sleep?" Ronal inquired at the obviously distraught child.

You shake your head, no.

Ronal sighed, "I understand, today has changed your life. It is good that you have such a strong support system."

All you could muster was a grin, "Thank you, Ronal. I know I've said that countless times today. But I don't know what convincing it took, but I will forever be in debt to you."

This time, it was Ronal who shook her head.

"I am your Tsahik, you have proven to not be useless here. But that Sully boy, he begged for me to do whatever it takes to save you. I'd like to believe Tonowari would have done the same for me if I was one of the good sky people. You are essential to Metkayina, you are one of us now."

She let her hand linger on your shoulder. Before you could get a response in, Ronal was already walking away back to her mauri.

You looked over your shoulder, she'd done the same.

Speaking it out didn't feel enough, therefore you signed it instead.

"Oel ngati kameie." She did the motion in return.

As she walked inside her mauri, someone else caught your attention.

Your Neteyam.

He darted over to you, a worrisome expression plastered on his face.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?" He blurted out, lifting your arms to check if there were any wounds.

"I am, not physically though. Thank you for worrying about me, Nete. I am mourning what I've lost, what those demons have robbed away from me." You explained to him, your hand movements were erratic as you were still trying to come to terms with everything yourself.

Neteyam clenched his fists, before bringing you into his embrace. You leaned your head over his heart, listening to the steady rhythm. It dawns on you, you could've lost this.

Your grip tightens, truly taking him in as you bring your hands through his braids. You could've lost him.

He seemed to be coming to terms with the same realisation. You heard him sniffling as he breathed you in. You made him lean back, your thumbs following his tears as you gently brushed them away. He nuzzled his face into your hands, his body shaking as he tried to conceal the depth of his emotions.

Neteyam tried to speak, his mouth opening only to close again. You let him reign his thoughts as you continued to gently caress his defined cheekbones.

You gazed into his eyes, they were dark, lost. He seemed worlds away from you..

"I simply cannot live in a world that doesn't have you in it." Neteyam spoke through clenched teeth. Like uttering those words was a physical blow to his gut.

"Nete...-" You tried to offer words of comfort, only to be cut off.

You let him - because you understand him.

He exclaimed. "You are my home! You are my person! It should have been me, Ewya worked her miracles today. But seeing you now, compared to how you just were. I keep doubting if you are even real."

Neteyam could not meet your coaxing eyes, his hands were gripping your arms for dear life. Truth be told, when he had woken up and you weren't there? He had thought the ceremony was a sick joke he had curated to cope. His heart almost gave out when he went outside the mauri only to see you sitting in the same spot you always seemed to endeavor.

"And you are mine, I am here. I am real." You carefully removed his hands from your arms, placing one on your cheek and the other on your heart.

"The great mother has given me a second chance, all thanks to you. Do not beat yourself up for something that was out of your control. We've already lost so much time, I cannot afford to dwell on it any longer." Your words settled in his soul, making itself an oasis there. It was like a thwack to the back of his head, just like the ones you'd do when you scolded him.

You're really here. He could breathe.

You were right, it all has already happened. All you can do is move forward. That you can both do, together. As a pair, you were an unstoppable force.

His eyes that were so lost a few moments ago opened, with newfound sparks of hope. A new sense of purpose. Behind all that flickered rage, directed at the sky people. They would pay for what they've done to you if they crossed each other's paths in life again.

You beamed at him, he looks so radiant at this moment. He let you lean your head on his shoulder as he held your hands in his. He traced random patterns on yours as he looked down at them.

"Tanhi, I forget even now your hands are still smaller than mine." He smirked at you as you snarled at him.

"Shut up, skxawng!" You giggled and he could only grin in return, giving your hands a gentle kiss or two.

Between one another you talked about your favourite memories of when you were human through the rest of the eclipse. Neteyam chuckled at one he was specifically fond of as you continued to rant about it.

As his nose nuzzled into yours, your cheeks became a deeper blue hue at his actions. He couldn't be more grateful for the Great Mother and her ways. Neteyam decided to take this whole experience as the beginning of something else entirely.

Eywa has secured a lifetime with you. His father was right, his family is a fortress. He will no longer take that for granted.

Neteyam may not become the Olo'eyktan like his parents were preparing him for. But wherever either one of you went, the other always followed. He will protect that honour for as long you'll let him, and he hopes it lasts for this life and every other one that the world demands of him.

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

⤷ feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated ! feel free to ask through my inbox if you would like to join my taglist. ♡

#junie's library 📚✧.*#atwow #avatar #avatar imagine #avatar: the way of water #neteyam sully #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader #ronal x reader #atwow spoilers #avatar x reader #sully family x reader #bro this piece is my bitch 😭😭 i worked so hard on her!1!1 #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #accepting rqs for avatar though feel free to send them through!#୨୧ ⁓ junie's corner ⁓ ୨୧ #neytiri ily <3 #Spotify

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yawnderu · 6 months

Text

K-9 — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Chapter III

Sick as a dog, and just as vicious.

1 2 3 4 5

You work magic with your hands

The human body is able to withstand extreme damage.

"Medic!" Price's voice boomed across base, heavy footsteps following right after. The door slammed open before you could even get up, Gaz and Simon carrying a bloodied Soap. They set him down on the medical bed and you got up, rushing to them and examining the damage.

It's incredible, really, how the human body can withstand extreme conditions and stay resilient, such as a gunshot that had blood leaking out of Johnny's head like a faucet.

"Out. With me, Simon." You bark out orders and the men obey, Price patting your shoulder twice, the look in his eyes saying much more than words. Fix him.

"Apply pressure on the wound." Simon nods his head, quickly discarding his skull gloves as his bare hands apply pressure on Johnny's chest to limit the blood loss. You felt a weak pulse earlier, yet the sound of the EKG machine as soon as you hook him up served as reassurance. You immediately put on your gloves, not bothering to hook him up to an IV to avoid wasting time. His heartbeat is weak, but he's still here.

Your hands get to work immediately as Simon begins to treat the wound on Johnny's chest, a much simpler injury than the bullet in his head. You bring the light closer to his head, able to make out the familiar glint of the bullet encrusted in his brain.

Twelve hours. That's how long it took to complete surgery on Johnny to remove the bullet in his head and stabilize him. He's a lucky motherfucker; the base of his brain and spinal cord being completely untouched, allowing him to be part of the 10% of people who have survived a headshot.

Your knees give out right after you make sure Johnny is all covered up, exhaustion and stress along with the disappearing adrenaline finally catching up to you. Strong arms wrap around your torso to prevent you from falling— Simon, who refused to leave your office, staying awake those twelve hours in case his help was needed.

"With you, lass." He reminds you, helping you stand up and guiding you to your chair, crouching down to get a better look at you.

"Need a cuppa?" He asked gently, the back of his hand making contact with your forehead to check for your temperature.

"Fucking brits..." You grumble, tired eyes looking down at him, the way his gaze softens and the corners of his mouth tilt up into a small smile, a deep laugh escaping out of his lips for a second.

"Some coffee?" You nod your head, hands going under your glasses to gently rub your eyes as you struggle to stay awake. He gets up, hand on your shoulder squeezing softly to make you look up at him.

"I'll go tell that lot Johnny made it, think you can stay awake until they're here?" His words had hints of teasing despite the concern in his eyes, only turning away once you nodded your head. You got up from the chair, walking over to the medical bed and looking at Johnny's unconscious body. His heart beat was stable, at the very least.

"I miss you, Johnny." Your hand reaches out to hold his, squeezing softly before you bring it to your lips and plant a soft kiss on his knuckles, slowly putting his hand back on his stomach. As annoying as he can be, he feels like a younger brother, someone you'd lay down your own life for with no hesitation, though that secretly goes for the rest of the team.

You take a step back when you hear footsteps approaching, pretending to fix the new IV injected to him.

"Doc." Price greets, walking over to you and looking down at Johhny. Bruised and bloody, but alive.

"Knew I made the right choice with you." His heavy hand pats your shoulder, managing to offer you a smile despite all the stress he was in, not knowing whether or not one of his boys was going to make it.

"I'm honored, Captain." He could hear the appreciation under the layer of sarcasm.

"I don't know when he's going to wake up, but there wasn't any damage on the frontal lobe or top of the brain, so probably not gonna have brain damage either... not that it'd make much of a difference." You drift off, eyebrows furrowing slightly as you think back on the twelve hours that just passed, the deep chuckle escaping the captain turning your attention back to him.

"Good. Go rest, Gaz and I will take turns watching over him." You simply nod, turning away to leave and patting his arm gently as you walk past. A small smirk sets on your lips when you feel the muscle, quickly leaving the office and going to your quarters. You barely manage to remove the bloodstained white coat before you collapse in bed, any thoughts about what happened and the coffee Simon was making for you completely forgotten as you finally drift off to sleep.

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atskiruma · 4 months

Text

Chatty Medic

expl: after meeting and patching up Soap on a dangerous mission, simon takes an interest in your conversational personality during your service

a/n: hi, second person writing, gender-neutral reader, mw2 settings, reader is implied to be a little short, sfw, reader is mentioned to have hair, 1,855 words

When you were first approached by your sergeant about loading onto the Spec-Gru plane to assist an injury, it was definitely nerve-wracking at first. To be on board with immensely important generals, lieutenants and captains was a scary thought with how low ranking you were in the medical field. Nonetheless, you obliged and with your medic bag in hand you began to board the ship.

The first thing you saw as you descended up the stairs of the military plane was Captain Price standing at the top with a smile. You had known Price previously when he visited the medic facility and was nice enough to start a short conversation with you. His eyes grinning as he greeted you stepping onto the plane.

"It's good to see you," He spoke, "I'm sorry that this request is so short notice, if we'd known the medic we usually had was already boarded on another plane I would of already notified you."

You smiled at his kind gesture, "No problem, I'm glad to help." In response, he smiled a little more.

"Great, just follow me, he's down here." Price spoke while turning to make his way through the plane. Following him closely, you couldn't see much with his tall stature blocking the view, but nevertheless you examined what you could beside you. Being as this was your first time in such an expensive and high-class aircraft, the numerous equipment was fascinating.

Finally making it into the main compartment, Captain Price stepped out of the way to give you view of the problem. 11 people sat on each side of the plane while 1 laid in the middle on a stretcher. A couple of the members looked towards the 2 people entering and the eye-contact made you a little nervous.

"Sergeant Soap, or Johnny, was hit by a bullet near his torso." Price said as you watched Johnny lift a weak hand in the air comically. You nodded at his words and walked towards Soap laying on the stretcher. A couple more eyes followed your movement but you kept yours set straight.

"Hello Johnny, how are you?" You spoke softly as you set your bag down and began to put gloves on for the procedure. He smiled up at you and spoke, "Doing well, until now, you?"

Smiling at his little joke, you spoke, "Fine, until now, but once we get you all fixed I'll be feeling a lot better." Giving him a soft smile before turning to adjust your tools. Soap also smiled bigger when you spoke such kind words to him.

As you began fixing up his wound and cleaning the blood, conversation began to start between the two of you. Although it wasn't common in the medical field, you enjoyed talking to whomever you were helping.

"You're quite talkative for a medic." Johnny stated as you were threading the sutures in his stomach. Without looking away at your work, you spoke, "Well wouldn't you wanna get to know the person digging into your skin right now?" He blinked a bit at your words before laughing, "You're not wrong!" Little did you know a second pair of eyes was peering in on this conversation as you were having it.

This calm atmosphere continued until you were finished and the plane had finally reached it's destination at the Army Facility. While most of the members in the ship started to get up and leave, you stayed behind to organize all the tools you used for Johnny's injury.

The sound of footsteps behind you stopped your task and forced you to look, seeing two men standing behind you, Captain Price and another man with a ghost mask. Price spoke up first,

"Thank you again for the service, I'll make sure to note your superior of what a good job you did just now." His smile was calming to look at, and you could tell why this man was given the role of Captain just by his serenity. The man in the ghost mask however just continued to stare you directly in the eyes without saying a word. His presence seemed heavy and dominating as he didn't blink nor look away.

Giving Price a smile and a few quick glances at the ghost-masked man, you nodded your head and spoke, "I appreciate it, sir. Feel free to request me anytime." After that, both men left the plane and you followed shortly after to head back to the office.

When you were approached for the second time by your sergeant about helping another high-ranking officer, you didn't expect it to be the notorious staring masked gentleman from last time. It had been a couple weeks since you had taken on the big role of helping Spec-Gru and since then you haven't given it much thought.

Until now, when you walked out of the office and into the medic hall, seeing the tall, frightening man sitting on one of the small medic beds. Nurses passing by gave him glances as he sat staring at the floor, others turned towards each other and fawned over him.

Putting on your best smile, you walked over and greeted him. "Hello, how are you?" You spoke, watching as his eyes lifted to look at yours and continued to stare for a while. Clearly not a talker, you stated in your mind. Blinking and reaching for the clipboard placed on the small table next to the bed, you continued, "It's okay if you're not up for speaking, almost everything I need to know is here anyways."

After reading his file, you smiled again and looked at him, he was already staring at you before you spoke, "It's nice to see you again Simon, I know we met a while back when I patched up your friend Johnny." His eyes never left yours as you tried to spark a conversation between the two of you. Nonetheless, it wasn't sparking at all, it was more like trying to start a fire in the rain than anything.

Deciding you'd have to talk for the both of you, you continued to chat with him about little things. How the weather was, wondering what they'd be serving at lunch for today, if he enjoyed the lunches they did serve here. Fortunately, he wasn't deaf, because when you asked for him to lift his sleeve in order to see the damage he obliged.

"That must of hurt," You said as you tightened your gloves and held his arm with one hand while picking around the wound with the other. "I know that you're not much of a talker Simon but if anything I ever do hurts feel free to pull away in order to show me."

This one-sided chat continued on for 30 minutes as you assessed the damage and patched him up, frequently sharing little bits of your life to keep the fixing process less boring. Just as you finished you decided to speak again, "Feeling better? Anything else you need from me?" Simon looked at you and shook his head, finally speaking with a rough British accent, "No, thank you." Was all he said before he stood up and left the wing.

The interaction was odd, but not too odd, because you could tell while he definitely wanted a large wall between him and strangers, he kept a very respectful manner regardless.

You saw Simon again on Sunday, when last time you saw him was Tuesday. He was back at the medical center again and requested your service as well. When told he was waiting in the wing for you, you put on your best smile and approached him again. This time, his eyes were staring straight at the hall you were coming from before you turned the corner.

"Hello Simon, it's good to see you again, how are you doing?" You spoke as you smiled at him and turned to grab some gloves to put on. This time, he responded.

"Doing fine, thank you." His gruff voice spoke out, a small smile made its way onto your face at his response.

"I'm glad, I'm sorry you're hurting today but I promise to do my best to fix that." You tried to soothe the possible ache he was feeling somewhere and comfort his worries if he had any at the same time.

Simon nodded at your words and stared at you as you examined the clipboard with his problem. A small gash in the arm, simple. You then proceeded to explain the type of ointment you were gonna use to numb the pain and pressed to advise you if it hurt anywhere.

Again, you started to speak of plain conversation starters and this time Simon either nodded or actually blinked when you spoke towards him. Progress is progress, you told yourself as you finished bandaging his upper arm and making sure no other injuries were present.

Seeing as he requested for you twice when aiding an injury, you began to wonder if he was enjoying your little chats. Deciding not to get ahead of yourself, you told him he was all better and wished him a goodbye on his way out.

Thursday rolled around and you were again, called to go check up on Simon in the medical wing. This time around though he seemed more interactive than usual. When you first stepped out of the hall and walked towards him, he spoke before you.

“I like what you did with your hair today.” He said, as he stared directly into your eyes. The compliment shocked you but nevertheless you smiled anyways and replied,

“Thanks! I tried something different today. What seems to be the probl-“

He interrupted you before you could finish, “You should wear it like that more often.” His eyes continued to hold yours as the awkwardness set in from his words.

“You think?” You spoke, as you lifted a hand up to twirl a piece around your fingers. “It wasn’t that difficult to do,” You continued, “Maybe I will, if I see you sometime this week I’ll make sure to wear it like this.”

Your eyes followed to the table next to bed, expecting to see a clipboard but instead it was empty. “That’s odd..” You trailed off, “Did nobody examine you before you came in?”

Turning to him again, for the first time since you met him he avoided eye contact. “Simon?” You questioned as he kept looking towards the ground.

“M’ not injured.” He mumbled, still avoiding your eyes. Your eyebrow rose as you held a concerned look on your face from his sudden change in personality. Instead of speaking, you waited to see if he’d continue his reasoning.

“Was wondering if you wanted to do something, sometime.” He spoke, giving you a quick glance here and there. Your confusion was still evident on your face. “Never done this before, think you’re pretty.”

“Oh,” was all you said as your cheeks dusted a light pink color. Simon looked as if he was trying his best at the proposal, so you tried to ease the stress. “I’d love to, when are you free?”

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #modern warefare ii #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #atskiruma

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mellowsaturns · 2 years

Text

someone’s calling my name (and it sounds like you)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: after a mission gone wrong, bucky finds himself on the brink of unconsciousness and then you show up which causes him to reveal his true feelings

warnings: hurt!bucky, sad!reader, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, description of injuries, whump-ish, pining, confessions, typical self-deprecating bucky behaviour

wc: 2.1k

- - -

“Why isn’t the serum working!?” you scream, pressing onto Bucky’s wound as hard as you can.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

It was Bucky’s last day on his week-long mission. He was supposed to enter the abandoned bunker to scope for any remaining files on biohazardous weapons that the enemy might still have laying around to make sure they don’t fall into the wrong hands.

But when you and Nat went to pick him up at the rendezvous spot, he was perched against a tree—bloodied and limp. He couldn’t even make it into the cabin that was only a few feet away.

And when you ran over, the sight of him made your stomach drop.

“The wounds are too deep. The serum can’t heal the tissues in time,” Nat yells from the cockpit of the Quinjet. “He needs medical attention. I’ve already contacted Tony to have the team ready.”

Bucky squirms underneath you, eyes still closed as painful grunts escape his lips.

You curse and fight back tears, hands turning more and more crimson each minute. “Nat,” you whimper, “please fly faster.”

“I’m trying my best,” she replies.

You rip a piece of cloth nearby and try your best to bandage his abdomen as tight as possible to slow the bleeding. He lets out a loud agonizing noise this time, one that raises every single hair on your body.

“It’s going to be alright, okay? We’re almost at the Compound,” you assure.

“Got ambushed,” he manages to say through the pain.

You had a feeling he did. “I know.” You bring one of your hands to squeeze his, “How are you feeling?”

There’s a nasty bruise forming around his eye, a busted lip, ghastly cuts splitting the leather of his stealth suit and most notably, the bullet wound in his abdomen that’s causing most of the blood loss. You can already tell by the look on his face that he’s in so much pain—which says a lot since he’s enhanced—so it’s a redundant question, really. But anything to keep his stream of consciousness going.

“Hurts,” he groans. “How bad is it?”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” you say, being as optimistic as possible. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

The slow and gentle fluttering of his lashes reminds you of the first snow.

You take a deep breath before mustering a smile. “Hey Bucky.”

Bucky stares for a while. Then your name comes out as a quiet whisper, so delicate that you almost miss it due to your loud distressed heartbeat.

“Yes,” you nod, “it’s me. I’m here.”

“How?”

In truth, you weren’t supposed to be here. Nat was the one assigned to pick Bucky up but ever since you woke up today, an eerie bad feeling surrounded and loomed over you like a dark cloud. It just felt like something wasn’t right—an anxious feeling growing stronger and stronger each passing minute. And when you saw Nat at breakfast, the words, “Let me come with you,” came out of your mouth before you could even stop it.

“I came with Nat,” you answer, voice quivering when you’re reminded of your intuition. I knew it.

“No. You can’t be her,” he says, “you can’t.”

“What do you mean?” you question while pushing the hairs from his forehead. You turn his head to check for any signs of a concussion. “I’m right here.”

“You can’t…” he continues to persist. “She wouldn’t come all the way for me.”

What?

“Bucky, what are you saying? What do you mean she wouldn’t come all the way for you?”

“I’m not worth her time,” he mumbles.

You freeze, finally understanding the situation. He doesn’t believe you’re actually here. He thinks you aren’t real, that you are someone else. “Bucky, I— ”

He cuts you off, “There’s nothing I can offer her. Why would she care for me?”

After Hydra and all the shit he’s been through, he never thought he would be able to feel the normal emotions an average person would feel ever again. Then he got formally introduced to the team after deciding he was finally ready to join the Avengers and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of you—a feeling he hadn’t experienced since what felt like forever. And when he finally got to know you, Bucky never felt so alive. The interactions during team missions and exchanges around the Tower had Bucky falling hopelessly in love with you.

He clears his throat and a tender smile appears. “She’s so special. Has this amazing smile and cutest laugh. She also has the kindest heart but always kicks ass when she needs to,” he says.

Bucky never thought he would love again until you. But he knows the feeling will never be reciprocated. Friendship was one thing, but devoting yourself to someone was something else entirely. And who would want to be with someone as messed up as him?

His smile slowly turns into a frown. “But I’m just… me and there’s nothing I could offer her. There’s nothing to love.”

Your lips tremble at his words, too distraught to even notice the tear sliding down your face.

How can he talk about himself like this? Doesn’t he know that there is so much to admire and cherish? Sometimes, you even think you need a bigger heart, perhaps even two, in order to fit all the love you have for him.

That amazing smile he mentioned was only evident because of him. The smile that only appears when he’s around. Like when he offers to stay with you to clean up the training room. Or when he chooses the spot next to you during movie night.

That cute laugh he mentioned was most of his doing—like whenever he tells dad jokes that don't really make any sense until he explains it, only for you to laugh harder when you finally do. Or when Tony gets angry at you winning ‘Avengers Game Night’ three times in a row and you laugh because Bucky helped you cheat, again.

And that kind heart he mentioned was because Bucky made you want to become a better person. But like he said, you could kick ass too, and you promise you would find and hunt down every single person that laid a hand on him.

You and Bucky never got past anything but the occasional teasing. And you never tried anything further, fearing rejection. But you were okay with just him being there. It didn’t matter if he was beside you, next to you or in front of you—if he was there, you were happy.

So how can he say he had nothing to offer you when his mere presence was enough?

You meet his eyes, both yours and his glistening with each other’s reflection. “You’re wrong.”

Bucky repeats your words in his head. You’re wrong.

Maybe he is wrong. Maybe he’s more than just an ex-brainwashed-assassin. Maybe he’s actually worthy of your love. And maybe you really are in front of him. It’s hard to tell. It feels like he’s in the Austrian Alps again—on the brink between life and death. But unlike the last time, there’s someone with him who’s holding his hand and guiding him through everything. Someone who looks breathtakingly like you. Must be an angel, he thinks.

“Bucky, you’re wrong,” you repeat. “There’s so much to love about you.” There’s so much I love about you.

“What does she think?”

He keeps referring to you in third-person, still not believing you're actually here and it breaks your heart a little.

You sniffle. “I think she feels the same. I’m sure she can go on and on about what she likes about you.”

“When I was escaping, all I could think about was her.”

You let out a shaky breath at his comment because all you could think about was him on the way here.

“I was… I was scared that I might not ever see her again. There’s still something I have to tell her, but whenever I try, it can’t come out.”

“And what is it that you want to tell her?”

He gulps. “That I love her.”

You let out a small cry and hold onto his hand even tighter, hoping he’ll understand.

He recoils and takes a sharp inhale as another shot of pain runs through him. It’s getting hard to talk but there’s still one question he needs to ask who he assumes is his guardian angel. “Do you think she could’ve loved me?”

His words finally break you. “I think…” you choke out, struggling to wipe the tears running relentlessly down your face, “I think she could’ve loved you.”

His eyes are slowly starting to flutter shut from exhaustion. “You think so?”

You nod and try your best to hold back your half smothered sobs. “In fact, she does love you. But she’s just too scared to tell you and it’s been gnawing at her forever,” you cry out, cradling his face with your free hand.

Your hand is caked with his blood and right there and then, you notice how human he looks. Despite having the super soldier serum flowing through his veins, he’s not invincible. He’s human. He can get hurt. He had fears. He could succumb to injuries. For a moment, you think about a life without someone like Bucky Barnes in it. You don’t think you would be able to smile again.

“She loves you too, Bucky. So don’t talk like you’re never going to see her again. Because you need to survive this so the both of you can tell each other everything.”

Survive this. He can do that, he thinks. His lovely angel is telling him that you love him. He needs to survive this and get back—back to you.

He closes his eyes and gives a weak smile, trying his best to fight off the unconsciousness that’s threatening to take over.

“Landing in two minutes!” Nat shouts.

When the Quinjet hits the ground, numerous medics come and place Bucky onto a stretcher. And as they push him to the medical bay, you hold his hand the whole way.

When you reach the entrance to the surgery room, Dr. Cho stops you for a second. “I’m sorry but you can’t enter beyond this point,” she tells you with apologetic eyes.

You nod, but before you go, “Hey, Bucky,” you quip, hoping somehow he’ll hear you. “You’re almost there. Don’t give up, okay?”

You take one last look at him before lifting his hand. “She’ll be there when you wake up,” you mutter, pressing your lips against his bruised knuckles.

And in the silence, a small whisper of “You promise?” escapes his lips and you hook your pinky with his before they wheel him into the surgery room.

Hours later, Dr. Cho finally comes out and you let out the loudest breath of relief when she says he’s stable, giving you the thumbs up to visit him.

The rest of the team joins, but you’re the one who opts to stay. Nat gives you a comforting pat on the back before you are finally left alone on the couch, the beeping of the monitor joining your saturnine sighs.

When he finally wakes, he squeezes your hand that was intertwined with his all night. You’re here, Bucky whispers to himself.

Your eyes flutter open, face brightening at the sight of him. “You’re awake.”

Bucky looks at you and panic arises at the sight of your blood-soaked shirt. But he slowly starts to remember what happened. He realizes that it was real after all. You really were there. You came for him and you stayed. And perhaps, maybe somewhere deep within him, he knew it was real all along, real enough to get him through.

“I have to tell you something,” the both of you blurt out in unison, wasting no time because life’s too precious to wait.

You both let out a small chuckle. You already know what he’s going to say—his confession is still clear in your mind. And he knows what you’re going to say, he vaguely remembers you saying the words he always wanted to hear.

“You need to rest,” you insist. “Let me… let me go first,” you say nervously.

You start from the beginning, from the moment you woke up to when he got wheeled into the operation room. And you weren’t joking when you said you could go on and on about what you like about him—you think you spent an entire hour telling him. Somewhere in-between, he wipes your tears away. You tell him your feelings and he blushes and beams at you as if he didn’t just go through a near-death experience hours ago.

“… Next time, I’m going with you on every single mission.”

“You’re not going to get sick of me?”

“I think I should be the one asking you that.”

“Impossible,” he says in certainty.

Bucky could never get sick of you. Bucky wants you there, every moment, everyday. Just like how you stayed with him through everything not once letting go of his hand, he’s going to stick by you too, no matter what happens.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #sebastian stan x reader

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norrisleclercf1 · 6 months

Text

Just Come Home To Us

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Female!Reader x Lando Norris

Rating: R

Words: 3.8K

Warnings: Angst, some fluff, Smut, oral (both receiving), p in v, wrap it before you tap it, I'm sure there is some other, also this smut not the best written but hey I finished it

Our Boy Series Masterlist/ Previous: Memories of Old and New / Next: They're My Future, You're The Past

Synopsis: Things are never easy, even when you want to come home.

A/n: One more chapter before the end of Our Boy Main Story!

4 months have passed since that morning after the Monaco Grand Prix. 4 months since your husband kicked you out of the house and their lives. Painful nights alone, filled with tears and nightmares, the only comfort has been talking to Elijah and Cecile every day. Elijah was the ever-good son, telling you Charles and Lando were far from okay.

His Papa was back in therapy and felt he wasn't ready to see you, not because of the fight, but because he wanted to better himself first. You kept your mouth shut, refusing to let anger cloud your son's judgment of his Papa. Lando, Cecile told you that he was holding everyone together, but she worried no one was there for him.

It made your heart clench. Lando was the younger of you 3 and always in the middle whenever you and Charles argued. Closing your eyes, you suck in the bone-chilling air of Finnish winter. "Eh, don't fall asleep on me!" With an ache in your neck, you see your father on his snowmobile, grinning. The same grin he'd give Uncle David or Michael before a race.

"I'm not old man, just enjoying the fresh air." Words are falling off, and the blanket of white surrounding you has your eyes burning. "Just call," Mika whispers, knowing what you're thinking. He could always see those thoughts whirling in your head. An open book is what he liked to call you. "No," Your father mumbles something about how stubborn you are, kicking off the engine and leaving you as he goes through the private course again.

Why should you have to call? Charles was the one who wouldn't let you explain, even listen to you. He did what he always did: reacted first. A defense mechanism you have experienced one too many times. And this was the last time you'd be subjected to it. Charles has ripped your family apart more than once; this may be the time he succeeded.

Kicking your own engine, you follow your father to the top of the point, seeing him staring out. "He should be the one to call!" You yell, the wind whipping around you. It was a lashing you have missed, the cold turning your blood to ice and making your lungs expand to suck in the crisp air. "Why?" You hated when Mika did this. He wouldn't take your side. He said that while he loved you, that doesn't mean he'll always defend you. Sometimes, the child must fight their own battle to determine if the war is worth it.

"Why?" You trudge through the snow, stopping next to your father. Memories of being a little girl, learning harsh lessons, and the screaming matches of forming your own path. "Because he kicked me out and told me to leave. And I did. He ripped this family apart, not me." Mika turns, and you shrink back. Even after the words left, you felt their poison seep in. "The truth is a paper cut, but the lies are the bullet wounds. You did not help your cause when you continued to lie to those men. Good men who have given you a wonderful family and two gorgeous children." Mika sighs, fixing his glasses.

"You think I don't know this? What do you want me to say? That I lost sleep, sometimes sick to my own stomach, when I watched Elijah grow up? Or when Charles would whisper how much he loved Elijah and me? Because I did. I've hated myself for 16 years; for 16 years, I have lied to the greatest loves of my life. I thought Nico was my air, but he was sea. Swallowing me whole and drowning me. But Charles," You break off, swallowing your tears. "And Lando, they gave me air; for once, I remembered what breathing was like. FUCK!" You scream out into the mountain air.

"When your mother died, I felt my world slip out from under me. When you started to act out, a part of me felt like I failed. You started to date Nico, and for once, I thought you were okay. Instead, you were slowly dying inside. If your mother was here, she'd kick my ass and then yours." You laugh, wiping your tears, the cold making them burn like acid. "I failed my babies," Mika shakes his head, facing you.

"You didn't. You never failed those children, just yourself. And that's okay. Because no matter how old you get, you're still a child. My child and we Häkkinens don't make things easy. Just ask your Uncle David." You laugh, remembering how Uncle David would tell you stories about your father. "I miss them. I feel like I'm missing pieces of myself." You whisper.

"I should hate Charles for the pain he caused me, but then I remember all the pain he's been through. We're both hurt, Daddy, so I fear we might harm Lando sometimes." Mika chuckles, still picturing you 3 as the 20-something-year-olds back in the 2020s. "He's stronger than you think, trust me." Nodding, the two of you drive back down to your cabin. Slowing, you see a blacked-out SUV. "Who is that?" Mika shrugs as he stalks to his own car. "Don't know! See you tomorrow for dinner!" Scrunching your eyebrows together, you open the front door, heat greeting you.

"Hello?" Slowly entering your cabin, you stop seeing the familiar old, worn-out McLaren jacket. "Lando?" You call, boots pounding as you round the corner and stop seeing the mop of curls with little bits of grey now in them. He turns and stops, and both of you stare at one another. "Hey, gorgeous." Hearing that accent, those green-blue eyes stare at you, and everything comes crashing down. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry." You sob, crumbling to the floor.

Whatever he was doing is forgotten as he rushes to you, falling to the floor with you as his arms circle around you. "Don't apologize, please don't." He whimpers, his beard tickling you, and you cry harder, hating how much you've missed that ridiculous beard. "You're here, you're here." You repeat and pull back, exchanging messy kisses and words. "Of course I am. It's been a horrible four months. We would've come sooner, but work and," You shut him up by kissing him deeply.

Lando groans, hands digging into your snow jacket as he relaxes. Pulling apart, you take note of his words. "What do you mean, we?" "He means us." You give yourself whiplash with how fast you look up. Charles stands there, face taunt and glasses hanging onto the end of his nose. You and Lando always say Charles has aged with grace, but right now, he looks like his 26-year-old self again. And it still has your heart skip a beat. Standing, you two stare at one another as Lando looks between you.

Without a second thought, you rush Charles, and with waiting arms, he accepts you into them. "I've missed you," Whisper of words pass between you two, but he swallows them with his mouth. "Don't talk," He groans, ripping your layers off as Lando whimpers, watching you two. "Come here, baby boy." Lando blushes and grumbles about how he isn't a baby anymore. "You're still our baby," Charles's fingers tug Lando's curls, which has him staggering into you two.

"Where's the room?" Lando asks as Charles bites and sucks marks into his neck. "Down the hall to the left," You moan as Charles moves to your neck and leads you with a tangle of limbs to the bedroom. Shoving the door open, you three stagger in as they make work of your clothes. Charles stops, lifts you up by your legs, and drops you flat on your back. "Charlie," Lando whines as he lays Lando beside you.

Your husband leans back, taking in the wreck messes that are you and Lando. "I haven't even fucked either of you, and you're both so wrecked for me." Lando rolls his eyes, and you do, too, with Charles smiling. "That was stupid, Charlie. We're not young anymore." Lando teases and leans up, pulling him down by his necklace. Their kiss is soft, filled with love and emotion, and you swear you feel that hurt grow again.

Lando pulls away, gently pulling Charles's bottom lip. Leaning up, Lando whispers something to Charles, who has his eyes cut to you and grow dark. "You're right, baby." Charles presses a kiss to Lando's cheek and moves to you. His fingers brush your jaw and then cup it, pulling you up. "Still as breathtaking as the day I met you in the street." He places a soft kiss on your neck.

"A wonderful mother," Another kiss, and with each praise, he places a kiss before he kisses your lips. "I've missed you more than air," Raising your arms, he helps you out of your shirt, and Lando removes your pants. "Don't leave me again, please." Charles doesn't let you answer as he swallows your words, straddling you on the bed.

"Easy, Charles. You both need air." Lando reminds me of which has you breaking apart, chests raising and falling. He leans in, pecking you both on the lips. "I love you both so much," Lando whispers and pushes you down, smiling at you both. "Take off your clothes," Charles groans, hating that Lando is still fully clothed. "Who's needy for me now." Laughing, you help Lando out of his clothes.

"Still a pretty cock, for an old man." Charles's fingers wrap around him, which makes Lando shiver. "Speak for yourself; you're older than me." Charles chuckles, gently jerking Lando off. But Lando doesn't ignore you as he leans down, kisses, licking, and biting his way down, but he stops looking up at you. "I love you," He mouths before closing his eyes as his lips have you gasping.

"Oh, fuck." Arching your hips up, Lando's large hand pushes you back down and makes eye contact. "Does she still taste like heaven?" Charles rumbles, pulling his hand away from Lando, who whines at losing Charles's touch. Lando moans when your fingers tug at his curls each time he curls his tongue. "Mh, Lan-" You moan louder when Charles bites one of your nipples and ruts up into Lando's mouth.

Lando pulls away, and you whimper as you are close, but he shakes his head. "Charles, come here. I think you owe our girl a perfect apology." Charles pulls off with a pop and smiles. "I think you're right." Charles moves and stands off the bed, and Lando bites his lip. "Kinda jealous," Charles laughs and pulls Lando into a searing kiss. "Don't worry, you're next." Your toes curl when you feel Charles nudge you as he gets comfortable between your legs.

"Are you okay?" You stop and think this over. It probably wasn't wise to have sex before talking things through, but damn, you've missed them too much. "Yes, fuck yes, just," Charles moves and slides into you slowly, which has you whimpering. "Easy, you're okay," Charles whispers, dropping over you. His arms cage your head, taking deep breaths to calm himself. "See, old." Charles whips a hand out and twists Lando's nipple, which has him squeak.

"Jesus, just fuck me, Charles." The two look at you and stop laughing. "Watch your tone." Charles pulls back and slams back into you, which pulls out a whimpering moan. "Lando, you can fuck my mouth." Lando whimpers, hearing that, and the boys move. Charles pulls you close, and he moves in slow thrusts, and Lando gets comfortable for you both.

"I have missed this mouth. Charlie is good. But you're better." Lando whispers, peppering kisses all over your face. "Missed you too," Opening your mouth, Lando lets you swallow him as he whimpers, screwing his eyes shut. You don't know where your mind went, but every lousy thought has gone away with the two of them here. You've missed them both so much that having them close to you has made you fuzzy.

"Fuck, baby." Charles groans and drops down, covering your body with his as Lando's hips and Charles's move faster. Lando whimpers pulls away, and wraps his hand around. Charles bats his hand away and takes Lando down his throat, which has you whimpering and clamping down on your husband coming. Lando gasps as Charles sucks him dry, pushing Charles off as he drops to the bed, panting. The three of you are a mess.

"Don't leave me," Charles whispers as you tangle his hair with your fingers. Exhaustion seeps into your bones, and darkness takes you over.

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

Charles doesn't know when he wakes; all he remembers is tensing and his eyes flying open. Warmth covers him front to back, and something soft is wrapped around the warmth. Scanning the room, he groans. Memories of the flight, Mika helping them into your cabin, you coming back, the sex. Fuck, he shouldn't have done that. But he missed you, having you wrapped around him as he pulled you apart.

Eyes move up, taking in Lando's puffed cheeks and mushed curls. He loved watching you both sleep; it was when you were more at peace. Rolling over, he feels his body go rigid. You weren't there, fuck did you leave. Slipping out of his husband's hold, he places a few soft kisses over the marks he has left. "Be back," Lando whines but settles back down.

Bending down, Charles slides on some sweatpants and follows the light. He stops when he sees you sitting by the low fire on the phone. "I know, baby. I'm glad you and Cecile are having fun with Uncle Carlos." Charles leans against the frame, watching. "Yes, Papa and Daddy are here," Elijah must say something because your face scrunches up.

"I don't know, honey. Um, Pa...Charles said some stuff during our fight that hurt. So I don't know if we'll get back together." Charles loses his smile and stands up straight. "Elijah, I understand you want me to talk to him, but.....listen. You tell Cecile that I'm okay. Also, please don't give Carlos a hard time, alright. Also look after the twins, oh remember that Oscar's daughter is coming to visit. Yes, Victoria. No, Elijah, don't fight with her. Just, okay, yeah, bye." Hanging up the phone, Charles quickly bolts into the bedroom.

Lying down, Lando immediately attaches himself to Charles. The door creaks open, and you slide into the bed. But you don't cuddle into Charles; instead, you roll onto your other side, back facing him.

He was losing you.

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

"But, it's snowing, and I think it would be nice," Lando begs, trying to get you and Charles to do something together. "Exactly, it's snowing, and we're in Finland. It's not exactly a British winter." Charles grumbles into his coffee. "Yn, pretty please. This is the first time we're in your home country. I want to see it." Lando makes his eyes big, and Charles looks away quickly.

You groan as Lando starts to smirk, knowing he's got you. "Fine, there is a trail we can take that the locals use. It's about 2 hours, both ways." Lando cheers and rushes to the bedroom. The tension rolls off of you and Charles in thick waves. Putting down his mug, he stands and leaves you with no words or kisses.

45 minutes later, with multiple layers of clothing, you trail behind Lando, who talks Charles's ear off. "Yes, Lando, I know that." Charles smiles, kissing him gently as Lando takes a picture of the snow-covered mountains. It's another 15 minutes before Lando gets tired of you two not talking.

"Cecile was wondering if she came here and visited you," Charles staggers, but Lando catches him without a beat. "Really? I guess the kids could come here and visit." It never occurred to you that they could come out and visit. "Yeah, it's a great idea, don't you think?" Charles stops walking as you pass him, smiling.

"You could come home," Charles whispers, cheeks dusted pink from the cold weather. The scuff you let out had Lando's shoulders tense. He could feel the fight coming a mile away, and this was one place he didn't want to get stuck in the middle. "Do I have a home to come back to? Or will you kick me out again?" The sneer on your lips has Charles's face pulled tighter.

"Charlie, don't." Lando pleads, placing a hand on his chest, wanting him to calm down. "Your home is with us and our kids." Charles's voice was eerily calm, and Lando knew that all hell would break loose with one more comment. "I think you mean my kids. Or did you forget Elijah isn't yours?" It was a low blow, but all the hurt and anger you've felt over the past 4 months was too much. How dare he come here and demand you go home when he's why you're not home.

"You're right, he isn't mine. I don't even think you're mine too." Charles snaps as Lando looks between the two of you. Fear in his eyes, as this could be the end. The end of his family. "You're right! I was never yours! And you know what? I should've divorced you after you kicked Lando out. How he can still stay with you is a fucking miracle." Charles's face goes neutral, the same look he had when Mattia told him off. His emotions are gone.

"When you two get home, I hope Lando has the fucking mind to leave you and take the kids and let your worse fucking nightmare come true!" "ENOUGH!"

Charles and you jump, turning to see Lando standing there, breathing hard. "Just enough. Please?" He begs the emotions and thoughts he's held together, snapping. "What the fuck is the matter with you? The both of you?" Charles has the mind to look ashamed, as do you. "How could you say those horrible things to one another? We're married! We have TWO gorgeous children and a wonderful life. I know I wasn't there initially, that Charles held you together. That you told a lie because you were hurt and trying to not let it all kill you, but fuck."

"Y/n," Lando turns, looking at you, before taking a deep breath. "What you've done, said, it hurt. You manipulated us in a way that has cracked this marriage in a way we'll never recover from. But, you know what. I don't care. I don't; you're the love of my life and the mother of my two gorgeous, brilliant, talented children. You could kill me, and I'd forgive you. But you are holding onto such hate inside you for Nico that it's hurting us all. Nico, he," Lando sucks in a breath. "Lando, don't." "Shut up," The two of them stare at one another before Lando looks back at you.

"Nico, he didn't leave you. He bought a new apartment and wrote that letter to tell you how excited he was and how much he loved you. But you never read the letter because you thought he left you. And that's okay because if you had read that letter, you'd have never fallen in love with us, and we wouldn't have Cecile. Y/n, you're not in your 20s anymore. Please, you need that closure when you come home. Because this is not your home, please talk to Nico. There is a piece of you that you're hiding from us because of him, and I have ignored it for 16 years, but no more." Reeling from his words, Lando turns his attention to Charles.

"And you," He points his finger at Charles, who curls back like Lando has slapped him. "Grow up, get over it. She didn't cheat on us, she didn't fuck him while you two were together and then lie. She never told us who the father was; she moved the truth around. I know that losing your father and Jules was the worst pain imaginable and then losing Anthoine, and that was another person who left you. Charles, we're not leaving you, but we will if you keep shoving us away."

Charles looks away as the silence surrounds you. "Charles, Charlie, look at me." Charles looks up, staring deep into Lando's eyes. "Elijah is yours, Cecile is yours. Y/n and I are yours. Never think that will change. Elijah is your little boy, the first person he goes to. Listen to me. We're all going to therapy because I refuse to let this relationship fail. If you two don't get your shit together, I'm taking the kids and leaving. Now, fucking TALK!" Lando screams and shoves past Charles and down the trail, leaving you two some peace.

You two stare at one another; Charles opens his mouth to say something but keeps closing it, unable to say a word.

"You didn't follow me," Charles snaps his eyes, shocked at your words. "For four months, Charlie. You didn't call, text, write, or even ask about me. Four months of hell, and you come here and then demand me to come home." Stepping closer, Charles takes a step back.

"A part of me was scared that when I got here, you'd kick me out. And that terrified me. I don't care that Nico is Elijah's," Charles swallows the words and clears his throat. "I care that you didn't trust me for 16 years. Care enough to tell me the truth. After talking to Nico and reading the letters, I understand why. But, fuck," He rips his hand out of his jacket and wipes the tears away.

"It's all my fault. I went back to therapy and realized that, but a part of it is your fault, too." You scuff, but stop thinking it all over. "He hurt me more than I want to admit. I just wanted to cause him pain, and by causing him pain, I hurt us both." Charles hiccups, wiping away the tears faster. "Four months, that's how long Cecile and you haven't talked to me. We need you home. We'll go to therapy. Hell, I'll stop racing if it means you stay. I'm going to fight for our family." You throw yourself into his arms as you two cry in the snow.

"Also, Lando is ready to kill Nico on command, and so am I. Mika told us what he said to you, and I'll skin that fucker." You laugh as Charles pulls you back into his chest. "Oh, also, could you possibly call your Uncle David off. While commenting, he's destroyed Lando and me, and it's not fun." You laugh louder, but it stops when the crunch of snow has you facing the sound.

"Thank god, can we please go home. I'm about to freeze my balls off, and I know you both love my balls." Lando whines; Charles and you share a look and smile. "Yeah, let's go home."

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

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ghouljams · 6 months

Note

You’ve made allusions to an android AU, may I venture a hc?

König (my beloved) is the most likely out of all of the guys to just. Literally not have a face. This boy was built exclusively for heavy combat - he’s probably got five cameras for eyes on a composite ceramic face. There is no synthskin. Briareos from APPLESEED vibes.

OK Android au is a Ghost au because that's my husband. I love the idea of König as a heavy duty mech. Let's run through what my thoughts on the au are and then never speak of it again

So Ghost as an android. Military grade, top of the line. I mean literally irreplaceable, no one knows how they made him, where he came from, or how he's able to think and do the things he does. It's almost unbelievable. You, the 141's mechanic, don't believe it. You've fixed up plenty of androids, you'd rerouted circuit boards and rewritten enough code to know that Ghost should not be doing the things he's doing. You think he's thinking. He shouldn't be thinking. Not the way he seems to be, at least.

Androids think, to a certain degree, but artificial intelligence is... well it's not exactly real. It's pattern recognition and computers running simulations. It's math. Complicated math, but still math. Ghost isn't doing math, he's making decisions. The 141 lets him out, free range, in the field and trusts him to think and act within the parameters- Fuck do they even set parameters for him?

He comes to see you the same way the men go to see the doctor. Reluctantly. Another thing he shouldn't be doing, that he's hiding from the rest of the unit, feeling. That's what first tipped you off that he was thinking, the way he lingered in your doorway when other androids would be marched in by their COs. Ghost stood in the door to your workshop and hesitated, like he didn't want to see you, or was hoping you wouldn't be in. When you'd made eye contact with his cameras, the red glow behind sculpted bone, he'd marched right in and sat down in front of your work bench.

"Need some maintenance," He's said, the transmitters for his voice box warm and rumbling behind the slight static. You'd never heard false vocal cords like that.

He's a wonder of mechanics. His back plate is dented, the synth-skin charred and bullet ridden, and when you take too long poking around trying to figure out how to get it off he reaches back and presses a button at the top of his spine. The black composite plates lining his spine -what a human would call a spine- release with a hiss and the back plates on either side pop up with a quiet click. You could spend hours looking at the motors running his muscles, like cogs in a clock. They spin silently, just on the edge of warm when you touch them, expanding his synthetic muscles almost like he's breathing. A cooling system you assume, or exhaust exchange. You grab a few tools from your bench and tug your safety goggles on to get started.

It's strange, you feel like a proper doctor working on him. Ghost sits like a rock for you, but he's sitting, he's active. You glance at his face like you'll catch him flinching away from the laser you drag against powder burns, or think he'll roll his shoulder to test the fit when you tighten one of the millions of tiny screws. You'll have to come up with something new to use on the tight coils of synthetic muscle he has. You've never seen anything like it, you'll need something custom if he comes in with anything bigger than a bullet wound. He's patient as you reshape his back plate, banging the dent out and soldering a patch over the hole.

"You'll need a new one of these," You tell him. He makes a noise almost like a hum, you chalk it up to motors whirring. Strange when they'd been so quiet before.

"Battle scars," He jokes, and you freeze, "That's what Soap calls them." He covers, but- He made a joke. He's covering, it's a good cover, but- He made a joke. Androids don't make jokes, they approximate jokes.

You're still thinking about it when he leaves. You're a good mechanic, a great one, but you can't explain Ghost away as subroutines and ai. You stare down at your diagnostic report, your repair report. You hesitate and mark "functioning optimally" before jotting down the repairs you made. It's probably nothing. No reason to snitch on the 141's prized android just because you're a little spooked.

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aurorawritestoescape · 2 months

Text

LOVERS ON THE RUN || 2,5k

Pt 3 of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang series

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, angst, rough Joel/soft Joel cos I want it all, m!oral, injury(not reader), blood, cum eating, ball sucking, pussy grinding

Summary: it gets risky… and hot

A/n: hugs and kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and @iamasaddie for the gif <3<3

Series masterlist || Masterlist

*****

The sirens and gunshots are still ringing loudly in your ears as Tommy is driving Joel and you to a safe place. Yet you can only hope it’ll be safe.

You are sitting in the back of the car with Joel, still clutching the gun in your trembling hand, the other gripping Joel’s jean clad thigh as if grounding yourself to him. The bags with money are at your feet but you forgot all about them. Your widened eyes are fixed on the road. You don’t seem to be followed now but Joel taught you to expect the worst.

“Fuck! That was close!" you exclaim with a tint of hysteria in your loud voice, attempting to shout over the roaring engine of the car and your heart pounding in your ears. You're so high on adrenaline, fear and thrill that you feel invincible, almost immortal.

Tommy's nervous chuckle shows that he's on it too - the only drug that gets you off the best - escaping death with an armful of cash.

Just mere minutes ago you were standing on the brink of the precipice, one wrong move and you’d fall meeting your death. But destiny spared you once again.

“You two are fuckin’ lucky… I had that feeling.. couldn’t relax for shit. Came back and …fucking cops.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” You reach to him and pat his shoulder as he gives you a warm smile in the rear view mirror.

You glance at Joel and say with adoration and almost piety in your voice.

“And thanks to Joel’s number one rule.”

You and Tommy chant it together parodying his drawl, “Always have an escape plan!”

Joel smiles with a corner of his mouth. Your nerves alight, one glance at the man and you wish you two were alone so you could pierce yourself with his cock and ride him until your legs give out. Or suck him off, choking on his length and getting a new fix of adrenaline when you almost suffocate on his member.

But it’s not the place nor the time and Joel isn’t even looking at you.

His head turned to the window, his thoughtful gaze is sliding over the trees and streetlights you’re passing.

Finally the cloud of the high dissipates and you look at him. Really look at him. His forehead is glistening with sweat. He’s chewing on his lower lip and clenching and unclenching his right fist. He’s nervous.

Well he must be, you think, after what happened. Wishing to comfort him you scoot closer, bracing your hand on his chest and lean in to give him a kiss…

“Fuck!, “ Joel winces startling you by a sudden jerk of his whole body and in the next moment you feel the claws of something terrifying grip your heart.

“Where?” You ask with a shaky voice as your eyes are frantically searching all over his body.

He nods down and to the side and you notice his dark shirt stretched over his broad shoulder is glistening. His right arm, the furthest from you, is pressed tightly to his torso.

Your fingers dart to his shoulder but you stop and look at him, eyes screaming ‘What the fuck do I do, Joel?’ You’re frozen, trembling hands raised. You’d never raise them for the police like that but you’re doing it now, staring into the face of your biggest fear - losing him.

“ ‘s gonna be ok baby, don’t worry,” He says through clenched teeth.

The stupor you’ve been in disappears and your head whips to Tommy.

“Joel’s been shot! Floor it!”

*****

The next few minutes flew like a whirlwind of actions and feelings and at the same time dragged on like hours. When you finally arrived at some old abandoned garage you’d already done everything you could in the moving car.

Joel popped a couple of Oxys and now he’s sitting on a stool, shirt ripped off his shoulder exposing a bullet wound. You’re stitching him up, having sent Tommy outside to watch out.

Joel’s every muscle is taught, teeth clenched and he growls with every push of the needle through his skin. The sounds he's making don't let you concentrate. You feel sad for him but can't forget that he growls like that only buried deep in your tight wet heat.

“Can you stop?” you mumble under your breath.

“What?”

“Your growling?”

“Why?” He asks and growls again when you make another stitch.

You shrug and feel him staring at your face, reading you.

It doesn’t take him long, never does, and you hear a soft chuckle coming from the pits of his chest. You glance at him, meeting his narrowed eyes and a shit eating smirk.

“Dirty girl, soakin’ your panties while your man is sufferin’, huh?”

“I’m the one who’s suffering here,” You reply earning another chuckle from him. “And I’m not soaking anything”.

“Should I check, baby?” He smirks tilting his head to the side.

“Jesus, Joel,” you whisper trying to hide that he’s right.

“Don’t call for him yet. I ain’t dead”.

You freeze with a bloody needle hovering over his skin. You can’t see it anymore, your vision gets blurry with tears. You try to hide your face from Joel leaning closer to the wound. But he notices.

“Hey,” he cups your face with the hand he can use, pulling you closer to his face and wipes your tears away with a calloused thumb.

“I’ll be ok, baby.”

“You don’t know it”.

“I do. It’s just a graze”

“No, it’s not. The fucking bullet went through you! You were bleeding so much and.. and …”, you cut yourself off suffocated by the fear.

“Hey,” Joel says and grabs your shoulder, “You stopped it. You did good, ya hear me?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, glistening eyes downcast.

“Look at me,” he asks gently, his gaze is warm and comforting, “Thank you, baby”.

You jerk your head in a nod and a tear falls down on his hand.

“I’m almost done.”

You continue your work in silence.

When it’s done and his arm is secured in a makeshift sling, you take some water from the car to clean yourself off the dark crimson blood. Joel’s blood. Then you start carefully wiping away the red off his big hands and can't help but imagine the world where these hands can’t hold you anymore, can’t wipe away your tears, can’t make you come, can’t be kissed by your loving lips. The wave of panic covers you whole again and you burst into tears.

Immediately embracing you with his healthy arm, no matter the pain he must be in, Joel holds you close kissing wherever he can reach, your hair, eyes, nose, cheeks. No one would believe that this big brutal man could be so gentle and soft.

“I’m s-sorry”, you hiccup after a few minutes of crying on Joel’s healthy shoulder. Your body is still trembling against his and you hate yourself for letting your fear get the best of you.

“Shh.. it’s ok, sweetheart. I’m here. We’re safe,” Joel whispers, pressing you closer to his naked chest peeking from his ripped shirt.

“We aren’t safe, Joel. Not after today.”

“Always have an escape plan, right, baby?”

“You think it’s time? Did we save up enough?”

“Yeah, baby. Enough for us and for Tommy. Can’t wait to see you in that micro bikini you promised me,” he groans in your ear and you quietly giggle. You press your cheek to his broad chest and furrow your brows in thought. You love this life, always have, but you can’t deny that your luck has run out. Going on will be like driving your car towards the edge of the cliff at full speed. With a pang in your heart you realize that it’s time to take another road while you still have each other.

You straighten up, check Joel’s shoulder and arm again and then look deep into his eyes. He notices myriads of thoughts swirling in your mind, wraps his heavy hand around the back of your neck and lightly squeezes.

“If you need somethin’ to calm down…?”

“I can’t smoke now… need clear mind.”

“I ain’t talking about weed, baby”.

“What then?”

“Oh, think, sweetheart. What always helps, huh?” He moves his hand to your face and his thumb brushes your lower lip.

You look confused, head tilted to the side, until he pushes his thick finger into your mouth. Your eyes sparkle with excitement while you’re sucking on his thumb.

“Good girl. C’mon now. Get on your knees.”

He pulls the finger out and you lower yourself kneeling between his legs.

“Sure I won’t hurt you?”

“I’ll be fine. Take what you need, sweetheart,” he replies, spreading his thighs wider for you.

Your heart sings and pussy tingles as you slowly open his jeans, tug them down to the middle of his hips and pull out his soft heavy package.

You press your cheek to his warm crotch and feel his cock twitch. You don’t do anything for a few moments, just breathe in his musk and purr into his soft lightly trimmed hair. Joel’s petting your head and you sink into a trance, as he holds you close.

When you’re ready for more, you start leaving open mouth kisses to his inner thighs, balls, shaft, tip. With every touch of your lips, you feel him grow bigger, stiffer, harder and you can’t help but whine feeling yourself gush. So you start grinding your clothed pussy against your booted heel, desperate for any pressure.

You look up at Joel with your doe eyes, full of devotion and love and he groans, scooting closer to the edge of the seat.

“Go ahead, baby. Suck on it. It’ll calm ya right up.”

You know it will. So you take his already hard cock in your hand and latch on the fat tip. Your eyes flutter shut as soon as precome hits your tongue. You hum as you lick it off him and then take his length deeper into your hot mouth. In a few moments you’re already drooling around him, soaking his cock with your saliva while your warm palms gently caress his heavy balls.

“Fuck… yeah, baby,” Joel groans making your pussy ache with need.

When his cock is nice and wet you pull your mouth away replacing it with your hand and bend lower to suck on the velvet skin of his sack. You trace its seam with the tip of your tongue and take a ball in your mouth. You roll it with your tongue and then suck. Joel’s huge fist clutches your hair, not too hard but enough to signal you to keep going. You suck one into your mouth, slurp and lick around it and then part from it with a pop.

“Hnggg…That’s my girl,” Joel praises you through growls when you start working on the other ball. Your hands aren’t resting, one clasped around his long cock, sliding up and down from the girthy base to the throbbing head, as the other caresses the other ball.

You’re burning up with arousal and not being able to contain yourself, you grind, grind, grind your aching pussy against your heel.

Joel lightly tugs at your hair to get your hazy half lidded eyes to look at him and chuckles when you do,

“Shit, look at ya. Already gone just from suckin’ on my sack.”

You let go of his ball with a pop and his cock twitches in your hand. A clear drop beads on the slit and you lick it off, not tearing your eyes from the man.

“Yeah, now onto the main course, sweetheart,” he groans with a smirk.

You smile back, licking your lips as your hand returns to his sack.

“Don’t hold back, Joel. Please.”

You don’t think it’s possible but his gaze turns even darker, completely obsidian with lust, his cock is throbbing as you’re holding it at the base.

“Ya got it, baby”.

His hand, soft and gentle just a second ago, grabs your hair tight and pulls you closer. You gasp as your lips smash into his warm head but you don’t hesitate to open them and take more and more of his cock, until your nose touches his dark pubic hair. Your throat is trying to accommodate his length, eyes are welling up with tears, fingers gripping his thighs. He fills you so well that all the fears are quickly pushed out of your head by him. You nearly suffocate on his thick cock, squirming between his thighs but he’s holding you tight.

“Keep it in, baby, ya doing so good…”

Your throat contracts around him and he pulls you off with a curse. You cough, swallowing air, drooling all over yourself while he’s holding you by your hair like a dog on a leash.

“Gonna make me come too fast… lemme enjoy this mouth of yours.”

Your mind has already shut down, all your actions, senses, emotions are focused on pleasuring him.

Your mouth is on his cock again, tongue pushing on the underside as you slide up his length and swirl it around his fat head. You’re drunk on Joel, his taste, sounds, scent, his essence is inside you, around you, everywhere. He’s your whole world and they almost took him from you. Angry tears roll out of your eyes while you hollow your cheeks and bob your head up and down, in control of his pleasure but completely under his power. You feel his cock stiffen and then it starts pulsating in your mouth. You take him deeper and drink his cum as Joel is spurting it generously right into your throat. With another roll of your hips against your boot you come, moaning around his length in your mouth, seeing stars behind your eyelids. When he discards of the last drop of his seed, he coos over you,

“Oh, baby, did your little pussy come already?”

Not waiting for the answer, Joel roughly tugs on your hair again, dull pain making you whine, lifts your head off his softening cock and finally sees your face, stained with fresh tears.

“Fuck, baby, c’mere,” he pulls you up on your feet wincing at the pain in his shoulder. You immediately push your face into the crease of his neck, trying not to hurt him, breathing him in. He turns to you and his lips find yours. You kiss each other, desperately and feverishly, like it’s the last time before your old life ends and you meet a new beginning together.

Joel holds you tight one second and in the next his arm falls and his whole weight slumps on you. With his name on your trembling lips, you see his eyes roll back and then close.

*****

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