#the rest of the tags are gonna be a little more graphic so be careful

[manicrouge]

SIN CITY

[𝙺𝚎𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚁𝚞𝚜𝚜 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛]

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 09/02/24

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Rorke finds the Ghost's and you fear you're never going to see Keegan again.

[𝙲𝚠]: Major character death, violence, gore, graphic injury, hurt/ comfort, reader goes THROUGH IT, idk if there's anything else.

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 7k (exactly btw)

[𝙰/𝙽]: This has literally been in my drafts since Decemeber and I wrote way too much of it to not do anything with it so = I hope this is enough to suffice. Also, this is entirely based off of the mission 'Sin City' in call of duty ghosts, so if you haven't seen or played the game and don't want spoilers then please skip this !! (I would be surprised if you've not seen this yet you're in the Keegan tag.)

Also, if people do enjoy this I am down to write a part two so please let me know :3

ENJOY !!

There may be typos, apologies!!

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

‘If I ever went missing, would you go and look for me?'

It was silent for a moment, and after five seconds passed, you turned to look at the man lying beside you. As you observed his features, you realised that his eyes were closed and while you doubted someone’s ability to dose off so quickly, you sure as shit didn’t doubt Keegan’s. His hand on your waist gave him away as it tightened on you, pulling you closer to him.

Opening his eyes, he peered at you with a furrowed brow. ‘The fuck kinda question is that, princess?’ He asked, ‘of course I would. Besides, need you with me,’ he said, ‘who else would I have to watch my back? Didn’t spend all that time training you for you to disappear on me, did I?’

Smug bastard.

'You're full of yourself,' you bit back.

'Good reason to be,' he said, brushing a hand through his black hair, moving his fringe away from his eyebrows, 'I'll consider being humble when I lose you, princess. But that hasn't happened and it won't be happening on my watch, not at all,' he reassured, pulling you closer to him.

You slapped his chest, letting out a heavy sigh, resting your head against his chest. In the dead of the night and the silence in your room, you listen to the thud of his beating heart while held up on a tiny bed. You were practically on top of him, legs intertwined. 

There wasn't anywhere to go, however, and he didn't seem to care about you closeness at that moment. Rather, he settled with the heat of your body much better than he would have settled in a bed with more space.

'You think this'll ever be over?' you mumbled, closing your eyes, 'I'd like to sleep in a bigger bed with you; this ones a little cramped. Maybe even watch something on a TV too.’

'You're free to take the floor if you want to, I'm not stopping you,' he grunted, pinching your waist.

'I'm gonna blow your brains out,' you sleepily mumbled, placing your hand over his. His chest twitches as he lets out a short laugh, folding his arm behind your head so he can brush his fingers through your hair. 'I mean it,' you grumbled.'

'Of course you do, princess,' he said, 'of course you do.'

—

Throughout your training as a Ghost, you gained an understanding that things will never ever be as easy as you wish they were. But, it came with the job, you suppose, whether it was spoken or not. 

Feelings as such only ever drift in when you don’t have a distraction, and the absence of Keegan after Elias sent him to Colorado Springs proved to be bruising. 

Admittedly, you had been apprehensive with Elias’ request, although, in private, you digressed as you noted that Elias is your Captain, and you were to never question your captains judgement. Even when it came to someone that you loved. So, you bit your tongue, and for the first time in what felt like a long time, you allowed yourself to relax. 

But, you have some things you needed to do before you got any sleep, or before you thought about anything else other than Rorke and the Federation. 

‘JSOC’s going to want to move fast on this, so load up before you get any shut eye,’ he advises.

You follow behind him, standing beside Logan as he walked with Hesh and Merrick by his side. Fortunately, the brunt of the experience has been dealt with, you had survived Keegan’s absence overnight, and in a matter of hours, he would be back by your side. Inwardly, you’re embarrassed at your clinginess to him, but deep down you know he enjoys it. 

‘We’ve got six hours until Keegan gets back,’ Elias says. 

Upon the mention of his name, Riley brushes his head against your leg, and you look down at the German Shepherd, rolling your eyes. Leaning down slightly, you scratch his head. ‘Shut up,’ you grumble to the pup when he looks up at you, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth. When you pull your hand away, he licks it, staring back at you. With a huff, you fold to his attempt of cuteness, moving your hand to the his head again. 

‘Hold up,’ Merrick says abruptly. 

An arm grabs your forearm suddenly, and you let out a startled breath, though when you look in front of you, you realise you’d almost walked right into Hesh. Exhaling, you turn your head to Logan who gives you a short nod. 

‘Somethin’ feel off to you?’ Merrick asks, turning to Elias.

The man immediately turns to his right, observing a laptop left perched on a desk. He says little for a moment, and when you turn your head away from your Captain, you acknowledge Merrick’s watchful eye as he peers down the scope of his gun, observing the sights through the broad windows located to the left of you. 

‘Security’s working,’ says the man to the right of you. 

Merrick slowly backs away, keeping his eyes trained o the window. You feel your throat tighten as you keep your eyes on the man, his paranoia working well to leave a heavy feeling in your chest. Logan lets go of your arm as he glances at his brother, a look that you don’t miss, and Merrick looks at you. You open your mouth to speak, holding the gun in your hands close to your chest, snapping your head to Riley as the dog begins to bark, glaring directly through he window that Merrick had just kept his eyes trained on. 

While he may be a dog, he is surely not an idiot- in fact, you’re quite sure that Riley is much smarter than many of the people you had encountered when you had been a simple rookie, before Elias had taken you under his wing. He could certainly kill more people, that’s for sure. 

It all seems to happen in slow motion, and the night you had spent prior seems to dissipate in one moment. There’s this hissing, you hear it from below, and before you have time to contemplate what exactly it is, a black can is thrown over the balcony, a train of green smoke pouring from out of the top of it.

‘Fuck,’ you curse, ‘get out!’ you yell, watching as another two cans containing the same foul smelling gas are tossed over  the balcony, hitting the ground with a clink.

As you begin to sprint, you find the air around you is similar to the air you breathed whenever you were spending time with Keegan on his smoke break. All oxygen left your lungs as you broke into a sprint, your eyes water, and before you know it, you falling down to the ground, gasping for air as you feel your eyes grow heavy. 

In the midst of the panic and over the thumping of your heart in your chest, you hear Elias call out, ‘Riley, hide!’ before breaking out into a fit of coughs.

You wretch, clawing at the ground in some form of futile attempt to escape, but nothing works as you watch Logan collapse right before you, spewing out violent coughs. Never have you felt so defenceless, so weak as you succumb to the gas, the world around you growing blurry before fading into complete darkness. 

—

‘What are you doing up, kid?’ Keegan asks, seeing you appear beside him.

Letting out a small yawn, your boots crunch against a few stray rocks as you approach him, taking a seat against the rock he was leaning on, looking out at the remnants of No Mans Land. Logan and Hesh had regarded it as their home, as did their father, though, you couldn’t really picture the place without the addition of a crater which grew every day, claiming the lives of old rickety buildings and unsuspecting wildlife.

It was a sorry sight to see for sure, and inwardly, you were happy you never had the misfortune of seeing your own home falling to pieces.

‘You need sleep,’ he said, taking a drag from the cigarette between his lips. 

Your eyebrows raise as you look at him, crossing your arms over yourself. ‘I thought you said you didn’t smoke,’ you say, 'you're a liar.'

You didn’t miss the way he rolled his eyes at your comment, and when he pulls it from his lips, exhaling a cloud of grey smoke, he chuckles. ‘Thought I told you not to hang onto every little thing I tell you, princess,’ he stated, ‘seems like we’re both guilty of doing something we’re not supposed to, hm?’

Placing the cigarette between his lips again, he turns his attention to you, noting that you’d crinkled your nose as the smoke he’d exhaled blew back into your face. ‘You can handle the fuckin’ dust in the battlefield, but the moment you smell a cigarette you fold?’ he mocks, laughing.

Your brow furrows at his comment and you fought of the urge to rip the cigarette out of his mouth. Instead, you allowed him to have his silly little cancer stick knowing that, if you did so something so cruel, he was sure to be upset at you, no matter how close the pair of you were. Cigarettes were difficult to come by and you liked him enough to let him have one in peace. 

—

When the world fades in, you’re moving.

You don’t know how, and for a short second, you’re convinced you’ve died. But, when you take a sharp breath and feel your lungs burning, you’re crudely brought back to life. When you look ahead of you, you witness two soldiers trailing behind you. Keeping your head bowed, you wince at the dizziness wrecking your tired mind, attempting to hold your breath in fear of the due ache in your lungs.

Swallowing, your mouth is dry and you feel the urge to vomit as your head keeps swaying from side to side. Your limbs feel like jelly, fluid. You can hear them talking, although, everything seems miles away from you, and you feel your eyes water as the tightness in your chest grows. If they know you’re here, do they know where Keegan is? The thought sends a chill down your spine, and in your delirious state, you declare that you will kill anyone who even dared to touch even a hair on his head. Even if it meant your death too. 

‘That all you got you piece of shit?!’

It’s Merrick, you recognise his tone from anywhere, it nearly shatters your delirious state entirely, though, the grip on the back of your collar tightens as your pulled away from him.

There’s more shouting and a loud smack, Merrick, you imagine, is on the receiving end of such a hit. A Ghost in true fashion, that’s for sure. As you attempt to lift your head again, you find the world growing dark once more, and, while you feel as though you should fight against it just as you had seen him do, you allow yourself to fall back into the abyss as you feel your lung burning and throat swelling. 

—

There’s a screeching when you come back around, a vile ringing in your ears. ‘Well, I guess if you want something done right, do it yourself.’ 

Your blood runs cold.

As you slowly begins to lift your head, a hand grabs your face, forcing your head up. The light protruding from the window to the left of you is nearly bruising, and when the hand holding your face successfully tilts your head up, your eyes meet with Rorkes. He looks down at you with a wrinkled smirk, his hold tightening on your hair, yanking it harder. You wince at the pressure as he keeps his eyes on you.

‘You’re finally awake,’ he acknowledges, pushing your head down, letting go of your hair. ‘Good.’

He walks away from you, and as you look around, you note that Hesh is sitting directly across from you, Logan is to the right of you, and Elias is to your left.

As you continue to look around, your face pales at the disappearance of Merrick, and while you sit, you recall the faint memory in your banging head of the man being surrounded by Federation soldiers.

He’s smart, you think, you could leave that bastard in a forest with a knife and he’d have his own fuckin’ city in a month. He’s fine. 

‘Nice to have the family back together, isn’t it?’ Rorke asks, looking to Elias. The man shows no fear, looking the devil right in the eyes with a stoic expression on his face. ‘One thing, though,’ he says, ‘we’re just missin’ our quiet friend, aren’t we?’ he says.

Your heart calms at such a statement.

He doesn’t have him, he’s fine, he’s safe.

You expect him to keep his eyes trained on Elias, counting on the fact that he is the Captain, but, he turns his head over his shoulder and looks at you. Heaving a heavy sigh, he turns his back to Elias, placing his hands down on his knees, ‘where’s Keegan?’

Looking him in the eyes, you spite your dry throat as the muscles in your neck contort and you muster up a mouthful of phlegm. He keeps his eyes trained on you, and you lung forward, a spray of mucus and saliva coating his face. ‘Fuck you,’ you heave, ‘I’m not telling you a fuckin’ thing,’ you sharply state.

He looks at you with wide eyes, standing up and wiping his face with the palm of his hand. 

‘Damn bitch has got some fight in her, doesn't she?’ he laughs, turning to Elias, ‘not your daughter by blood, but by attitude… fuck me, Elias, you’ve got yourself a mini me!’ he exclaims. You bite your lip, taking a deep breath as you look at your Captain with bleary eyes. Grabbing the back of the man’s chair, he pulls it to him. Elias’ gaze doesn’t leave his. ‘Where is he?’ he slowly questions. 

There’s a moment of silence.

‘You know I’m not telling you a damn thing,’ he spits, baring his teeth in his direction.

Never have you seen the man so agitated, his bruised face flushed red, his split lip oozing with blood, a thin line of it trailing down his chin. He looks like a savage beast as the sunlight behind him renders his features darker than typical, and the curve of his lips when he addresses Rorke even sends a shiver up your spine.

Of course, a Ghost was loyal to his own until death, and even then, they were buried down to watch over them. Once a Ghost, always a Ghost. Elias proved his worth much more than Rorke ever could, and while you wondered what exactly they had done to break the man who Elias had described as ‘one hell of a Ghost,’ but one thing was for certain. A man who broke was not a Ghost. Never was, and never would be.

’Go fuck yourself,’ Elias hisses.

Rorke laughs, nodding his head, letting go of the back of his chair. It lands with a clatter, and you watch as the man continues to nod to himself.

‘Dangerous fuckin’ game you’re playing,’ he states, and you watch as his right hand moves from the front of him, trailing around to the side where his pistol sat in his holster.

He’s gonna shoot Elias. Your eyes grow wide as you watch the man retrieve his weapon. Your muscles tensing as he holds it out in front of him. It’s aimed right at his chest, overing above his heart. ‘Well, let's see if I can change your mind,’ he exhales. 

BANG.

In a moment, his hand whips around, and when the trigger is pulled, all the air in your lungs exudes like puss from a pimple.

The shot causes your ears to ring. It’s loud, and everything is fuzzy. For a moment, you look up in search of the wound, hoping that the bullet had not went through your Captains skull. Only, when you look in his direction, you see the smoking pistol pointed directly at you. Your eyes grow wide, and you let out a short breath.

You heard the gun go off, the bullet had to be somewhere. And then, you felt a wetness pooling against your thighs. Everything seemed to move slowly when you raised your head up, looking across to Hesh with wide eyes. 

I’m going to die, I’m going to die and Keegan isn’t here with me.

As you manage to get a short breath in, agony hits you like a truck and you lean over without a second thought.

I’m going to die.

All you training, everything, how to stop the bleeding, none of it matters; you’re truly at the disposal of the enemy and there’s nothing you can do. Not even you Captain can do anything. 

‘NO!’ Elias screams, dragging you back into the moment. 

Between the thudding beats of your heart, you hear Hesh screaming out bloody murder, thrashing against the ropes that keep him tied to the chair, ‘Son of a bitch!’ he screams, looking directly at Rorke, ‘I’m going to kill you! You hear me? I’m going to fucking kill you!'

A shaky breath leaves you as your eyes well with tears, and when you look down, you gulp hard at the sight of a wound oozing blood. Your throat tightens as you feel your entire body grow hot.

‘Easy junior,’ Rorke warns with a disapproving tone. You keep your head bowed as his shadow looms over you, ‘I ain’t even started with you yet,’ he chuckles.

Keegan, where’s Keegan- I’m going to die.

Your eyes sting as your trembling hands press against the rope, pulling against them. You need to get out of there otherwise you are going to die. 

Elias calls your name, you hear it, he shouts it, yet, it seems so quiet.

'Look at me!’ he demands, and while everything in you is telling you to keep your eyes trained on the wound, you force your head up, sniffing hard as you look your Captain in the eyes. At the very least, even if Keegan isn’t there with you, you have him.

Elias, you captain, your military father. There have been plenty of jokes made during particularly bleak moments in missions where Hesh and Logan have likened you to their sister. It's an honour, truly, to know that they were your brothers no matter relation, and Elias entertained the idea that you were the daughter he had never had. 

Rorke appears behind him and it’s then that you don’t realise how many seconds are passing. Every single second feels like an hour, and you’re more than aware that every second passing is yet another drop of wasted blood. You’re running on borrowed fucking time, and there’s Rorke, the big fucking man he is, parading around in front of you like he’s a jester. ‘That’s right,’ he chuckles, placing his hand on Elias shoulder, ‘that’s it,’ he sighs, ‘show him how much pain he’s causing you right now.’

‘Keegan will kill you,’ you rasp out, stifling a short whimper as you clench your teeth. ‘And if he doesn’t, then I will.’

You’re more than aware of the situation your in and your pessimism seems to waver with your consciousness as a sudden boost of adrenaline fills you with defiance. If you’re going to die, you might as well run your tongue; the worst thing that can happen in this moment is him simply putting you out of your misery. 

Rorke laughs at your threats, ‘you see,’ he begins, ‘funny think about your old Captain here,’ he stops himself for a moment, shoving Elias as he resumes his position, looking you in the eyes, ‘He lets his men die to save his own ass,’ he states, turning his attention away from you, turning his attention back to the Captain.

Exhaling shakily, you look over to Hesh and Logan who return a look equally as frightened. Never have you seen the pair of them appear so apprehensive, although, you definitely don’t miss the look of anger. No, even though the look isn’t intended for you, you feel a chill run up your spine. 

‘Dammit, Rorke,’ Elias yells, ‘this is between you and me!’

The world seems like its on a merry-go-round, twisting and turning leaving a delightful fuzziness in your head. Adrenaline is pupping through you, and you’re thankful for the emotion, for, if you didn’t have it, you very well would have been out like a light. Your hands continue to pull against the ties of your rope, and while your wrists are burning from the constant pulling and tugging, you breath a short sigh of relief when you feel them loosening. Whoever tied it clearly weren’t trained in the art of kidnapping. 

‘Leave my kids out of it!’ Elias demands.

You feel your heart warm at his sentiment, giving you all the more fight to get out of these damn binds. Works gun is right next to him, you can get it, you can reach for it, and you can blow that fuckers brains out. 

‘You’re talking to a superior Lieutenant,’ Rorke says, pacing back and forward, before finding his way right back to Elias. Looking down at the man, he calmly speaks, ‘show some discipline.’

You feel your face grow warm listening to their exchange. 

‘You were never one of us, you’re not a Ghost,’ Elias cruelly says, turning his face away from Rorke, looking down to the ground. Rorke hums, turning his attention back towards you.

The ties are growing looser, they’re getting there, you can almost get your hand out of them, yet, you maintain poker face as you look up at Rorke. 

‘Well,’ Rorke breathes, ‘that’s just cause I’m better than you!’ he exclaims, keeping his eyes trained on you. You watch as they narrow, it’s a subtle one, one that you had noted during parring matches with rookies.

As Keegan had taught you, when soldiers get lazy, they give themselves away and it’s always in the eyes.

Your eyes dart to his hands, seeing him clench his fists as he snaps his body around, driving his fist into Elias’ face. The man falls to the side with a grunt as Rorke takes a short breath before raising his other fist, ‘I’ve always been better than you!’ he seethes, punching that man again. Elias tilts his head back against the chair, and you watch as both Logan and Hesh begin to fight much harder against their restraints. Either way, someone was getting out and Rorke was going to pay. ‘But you… you call yourself a Ghost?!’ he barks, hating Elias again. 

As he looks down on Elias, you pull a hand free from the ties. Keeping your eyes trained on Rorke, you look down at his gun, gritting your teeth. ‘You’re nothing! You and your kids, you’re dead!’ he declares.

Wrong move.

With his proud declaration, you push yourself up from out of the chair, snatching his pistol from out of the holster on his thigh. Such, unfortunately, doesn’t go unnoticed by Rorke as he whips around, grabbing your arms, forcing the pistol up. You place your hands against his, using all the strength you can muster to pull the gun away from him. 

Nothing moves him, however. 

But he’s a monster, he likes to play with his food.

He’s not using all his strength, he’s taking it easy on you, and you’re still losing. As he does so, he laughs in your ear. ‘Oh,’ he gasps, ‘she’s still got a little life in her,’ he laughs aloud, positioning the gun so your pointing it directly at Elias. ‘Didn’t he ever tell you not to aim guns at people?’ You grunt, driving your foot against his boot, feeling his grip falter for a moment. You attempt to move the gun upwards, your finger pressed against the trigger. Everything burns. Everything hurts. But you’re not going to stop, you’re going to kill this bastard even if it kills you. 

Unfortunately he’s a scummy man, and as punishment for you stomping on his foot, he drives an elbow into your stomach, winding you.

Your hold falters- you almost fall to the floor- but he keeps you up on your feet, and through gritted teeth declares, ‘they could go off!’ His finger jams against your pressed against the trigger, a loud shot ringing in your ears. You watch a Elias throws his head to the side as a bullet drives through his chest. You fight against him harder, shaking your head. ‘That’s is!’ He grunts, ‘just a little more that way,’ he instructs you, forcing your hand further to the right. You actively pull away as the both of you fight against each other. Tears are running down your faces at that moment, every pull and tug driving the bullet in your stomach further and further. 

‘Dammit, Rorke, STOP!’ Hesh begs. 

 ‘Point it… at…’ another shot is fired, and Elias takes it with a grunt, 'your Captain.’

As though taking candy from a baby, he lets go of your hands, plucking it out of your sweaty grasp. Gunpowder invades your nostrils as he lets you go. Rookie mistake, you hear it in your head, but it isn't your voice. It's Keegan's.

You wobble on your feet, staggering backwards as your get your bearings. What you need to do is untie Logan who is right behind you, and then when he's distracted you can get to Hesh. Yet, as you step back and begin to move towards Logan, Rorke whips around to face you again driving the butt of the pistol into your face. It hits you with a crude thwack, a stoke of colour meeting your gaze as you fail to catch yourself, tumbling to the ground.

Logan screams out as you fall to the ground, and you tense as you brace for impact. You land with a thud, a broken cry escaping your lips when you feel the bullet lodge in your stomach dig further in.

The pain leaves you gasping an you clench your teeth as the room spins. Nausea spread through you as you lay there attempting to collect yourself, gulping back the urge to vomit.  Resting your palm against the ground, you begin to attempt to pick yourself up. If you can just make it to Logan, you can make everything right.

Keeping your eyes trained on Elias, you watch as Rorke circles him as a shark did its pray. Both Hesh and Logan are calling you for you, the rattle of their chair thumping causing your ears to ring. Licking your dry lips, you tense when Rorke turns back to you, pointing the pistol in his hand directly at your head.

‘You got fire in you, kid,’ he breathlessly confesses, ‘I like that… risking your life to protect your Captain,’ he chuckles, leaning into Elias, pressing his finger against his chest. ‘You could learn something from her, Elias.’

‘She’s my daughter,’ he croaks. 

‘Yeah,’ Rorke nods, glancing at you, ‘and she’s gonna get to watch you die. Her and your boys.'

Shot after shot is fired, every bang against you to witness as you grab your stomach, pressing down against the wound to keep yourself from losing more blood than necessary. You’re far too dazed to get up and fight against the man who saw the very life of your Captain as some sort of joke. So, you watch, helpless, as Rorke empties a clip into Elias.

‘No! No! Dad!’ Hesh cries. His face is red as he frashes against the ties keeping him from his father, the very sight making your headache. His tone is piercing as he carelessly spits out curses at the man before him. ‘I’ll kill you, you hear me?’ he screams, ‘I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch! I’m going to kill you! Motherfucker!’ 

The worlds a little blurry. 

Your eyelids grow heavy, and when you force the open upon hearing a thud right in front of you, you’re surprised to see Elias’ face meters away from yours. You fight against the urge to drift off. You’re not going to die, you’re getting out of this and you’re seeing Keegan again- you can't die.

‘You did well,’ Elias breathes, looking at you. Your blood runs cold at the sight of blood seeping onto the ground, ‘I’m proud of you, you and my boys,’ he utters, wheezing for a single breath of air. His lips are blue as he stares at you, your eyes welling with tears as you're forced to watch as the man struggles for his last breaths.

Rorke’s boot is planted firmly on top of his head, and you catch your Captain glancing up at the man.

For the very first time, you see fear in his eyes. It's a dastardly look, mixing with the loss of blood in an unappealing manner as his face grows sickeningly pale. Something tells you that Elias Walker is scared of dying.

No Ghost is to be scared of death, that's not who we are.

But, we're scared of losing each other.

Elias Walker is scared of losing his family, of leaving them behind.

Rorke sighs, pushing his boot further down, leaning down to press the muzzle of the pistol against his forehead.

Keegan, please.

‘Oh… you are right, Elias,’ breathes the man, ‘I’m not a Ghost,’ he grins. There's a pause in his words, and you find yourself searching for some form of sickly hope that just in the nick of time, there will be a bullet in Rorke's head rather than Elias'.

Rorke remains tall and as he licks his thin lips and eyes Elias, you find a dismal pit in your stomach that you know you're never going to recover from.

‘I’m the man that hunts them, and sends them back to the other side.’ 

With that, he pulls the trigger. 

You scrunch your eyes shut as you hear the rattle of the man's chest, a wet pray covering your face. Your lips form into a thin line as you choke out a broken sob, and when you bring your lips together again, the metallic taste of your Captains blood. Behind you, you can hear both Logan and Hesh sobbing, the anger the pair of the showed silently dissipated into grief.

The rustle of fabric in front of you unnerves you, and you attempt to turn away from Elias' corpse, letting out a startled breath when a shadow looms over you and you're grabbed.

'Leave her alone,' begs Logan, 'you got what you wanted. Leave her be... please.'

Rorke holds you in his arms like a child would a doll, and to your surprise, he guides you back into the chair you had jumped out from, forcing you back into it.

Standing back from the three of you, he rubs his mouth with his hand, his lips curling into a small grin as he hums to himself. 'Some talent is between you kids,' he says, 'real shame you're fighting the wrong side of this war, really, it is.'

—

Much to your pleasure, you find Merrick alive.

Despite your doubts prior, you knew well the man was capable of surviving. After the execution of Elias, Rorke left you with his soldiers and you, Hesh, Logan and Merrick were all forced onto your knees, kneeling on the balcony where the attack had first initially ensued. You’re unsure as to how much time had passed, but you were sure the wound was not getting any better as every time you shifted, you fell light headed. 

The soldiers that had been observing you receive something on the radio, although, your entire body is hot and your ears are ringing, the memory of Elias’ face stuck in your head as you were forced to witness his death close and personal. You’re quite sure there is residue on of the crime on your face, so, you keep your head bowed, out of the way of both Logan and Hesh who look completely broken. 

‘You alright?’ Logan whispers.

You’re shaking, but you nod your head. 

‘Just Peachy, L, don’t worry about it,’ you utter, keeping your head down. 

A shadow is cast over you and you catch sight of the boots of three soldiers.

‘The boss wants the girl alive,’ says one of them, causing you to snap your head upwards, looking at the three of them.

The one in the middle is pointing at you, marking you out of the crowd while the other two simply observe. 

You feel dirty. 

The man beside him nods his head, grabbing his pistol from his holster, aiming it at Hesh, while the other one approaches Logan, repeating the process.

It’s terribly calculated, killing both of the brothers, clearing the world of Elias once and for all at the same time. You keep your eyes trained on Hesh, eyes occasionally drifting to the window as you sit and wait. Planting the pistol firmly against Hesh’s head, you hear Logan grunt beside you. Hesh moves to the side, his forearms tensing, preparing for the shot. At the very last, they’re showing them mercy. They could have slit their throats, left them to drown in their own blood, yet, they’re making it easy.

One shot to the head. 

Then you see him. 

A small flicker of light in the distance. 

The light at the end of the tunnel.

The glass shatters, the man holding the gun to Hesh’s head stumbling down onto his knees, his hand firmly planted against his chest. It all happens so fast, the man beside him stands dazed, looking at his colleague. Another shot is fired, going right through the mans skull. A spray of brain, blood and skull covers you as the man fulls forward.

‘HESH, LOGAN! NOW!’ Merrick demands, the pair of them jumping to their feet. 

Logan shoves the guard to the ground, pulling him away from you while Hesh and Merrick rush two of two of the soldiers by the balcony. The awestruck soldier is left to you and you watch as he rushes forward, pulling the gun from the corpse of the dead soldier. Fortunately, Hesh manages to grab the rifle from off of the solider standing on the balcony, elbowing him in the stomach. Rushing up to you, he hits the back of the mans guns with the butt of the rifle, causing the man to fall to his knees. You watch with wide eyes as the solider attempts to rush up to him while Hesh fights with the other one. 

Another shot is fired. 

The soldier behind Hesh falls to the ground. 

‘I got you! Go!’ Merrick yells as more shots are fired.

The rest of the soldiers standing behind are dropped. To the right of you, you hear a gunshot as you stand up, watching Logan push himself up from off of the ground, the blood of a Federation soldier soaking into his t-shirt as he steps over the corpse. Grabbing the pistol discarded on the ground, Logan quickly fires a shot through the head of the solider Hesh is fighting with. A bullet whizzes past you, and without a second thought, you snap around, firing two shots directly into a soldier to the right of you. There are more shots from the right of you, and when the final body drops, you exhale. 

‘You okay, Merrick?’ Logan asks as Merrick unties the ropes around his wrists. ‘Rib’s broken, but I can move,’ he reassures, rushing up to Hesh. 

Logan pulls himself free, immediately approaching you, ripping off the edge of his t-shirt. You watched with a furrowed brow as he eyes you. 

‘Need to keep you from bleeding all over the place,’ he states, ‘c’mere,’ he instructs. You step forwards and he hands you the scrap from his t-shirt. Pressing it against the wound, you groan as he wraps the rope around you waist, trying it tightly around your waist. ‘Keegan’ll kill us if you lose a drop more blood… lost enough today too,’ he says, tying it tightly. ‘You still good to fight?’ 

‘Always,’ you say.

Holding his hand out, the pair of you bump fists and for the first time since this morning, you feel the dread swirling in your blood slowly coming to a stop. 

‘We got to get going,’ Merrick sharply states, marching ahead of the free of you. Hesh follows after him. ‘Keegan, we’re up and moving, get here as soon as you can,’ he instructs.

You look at his back in surprise, your own hand falling to your ear piece realising thatchy hadn’t taken them off of you.

‘Check… I’ll meet you in the kitchen,’ confirms the voice you have missed so terribly.

You clear your throat, wincing as you proceed forward, following after Merrick. Part of you wants him to say something to you, to tell you that everything is going to be okay, but you understand that doing such would absolutely be irresponsible, so, you busy yourself listening to Merrick. 

‘We need to make it to the west side of the building,’ he states, ‘it’s the best chance of getting out of here.’ You nod silently, taking a moment to take a breath. Everything was going to be fine, and in the end of this, you were going to have Rorke’s head in your hands. ‘You still good to fight, Eclipse?’ 

‘Always,’ you give a short nod, ‘bleedings calmed,’ you confirm, despite the burning causing you legs to wobble slightly. In due time it will be over, all of this ill be a distant memory. Just push on a little longer, that’s all you have to do. 

‘Shh.. noise behind the door,’ Hesh warns as he approaches it, ‘lets make this quick.’

—

As you push through the room, you exhale when a voice calls, 'I'm almost there,' Keegan confirms as your brow furrows, a particularly step sending a shot of pain through your stomach up your back.

You clamp your mouth shut as you whimper, your dry mouth longing for a drop of water. Eventually, this will be over, you just had to stick to it. He's almost here, you just have to keep pushing on. That's the only thing you can do.

Just keep fighting.

'You better find a place to hide, though, lotta guys headed right to you,' he warns.

You want to complain upon hearing such, why can it never just be easy? Everything has to be difficult, no matter what you're doing, you can never just catch a break.

‘Key,’ you exhale seeing the man standing before you.

His hardened haze softens upon catching sight of you, and you waste no time rushing up to him, throwing your arms around him. While unprofessional, you feel no shame in confessing that you were going to die without him, and if anything, you were deserving of this moment. The hug you share is brief as he grabs your forearms checking you over.

He stops when he sees your stomach. 

Merrick curses and falls to the ground, ‘shit,’ he hisses, attempting to push himself up off of the ground. As you look back to Keegan, the pair of you turn your attention towards the doors behind you, hearing voices edging closer and closer.

Grabbing you, he looks to Hesh and Logan, ‘get him up,’ he demands, gently guiding you into the room behind you. ‘We gotta hide, not gonna be able to take them,’ he states, pulling you to the side. ‘What the fuck happened?’ he whispers as Logan and Hesh quickly help Merrick inside the room.

You feel his hand against your stomach, wincing as he looks at you. The pressure on your stomach falters as he pulls his hand away, observing a wet patch in his gloves.  

‘Got shot talking back to Rorke,’ you confess, and while you’re sure it’s something you certainly should not be proud of, you speak with a glowing tone as you look at him. Besides, he trained you all those years ago, why should you be ashamed?

'Logan thought fast, used the rope he tied us up with to try and stop the bleeding,’ you mumble. His gaze hardens as he looks at you, and you swear you can see his Adams apple bobbing beneath his mask. Gently he pushes you behind him, helping you to the ground. Looking over his shoulder, he reaches his hand behind him, squeezing your knee. 

It’s so quiet, yet you feel as though your heart is going to burst. 

You place your bloody, shaking hand over his and offer him a wavering smile. He takes it in for a moment before snapping back into action. His hand is pulled from your knee and you’re left alone. 

'Turn that radio down,' Merrick hisses as Hesh helps him down

He hums as the doors burst open. Pushing you behind him, you all sit and watch as shadows pass you by.

And then the world begins to still. You're unable to describe just what it is you're feeling, although, despite the weight and severity of everything happening around you, you feel light as a feather. Your clothes are soaked at this point and in spite of your efforts, you find your breathing slowing as you lean against the wall.

Clumsily, you reach your had out to latch onto the floor as you feel an overwhelming drowsiness hit you. You've put in all the work and effort you can muster, yet, you've tried from it and as you wade through the mush of panicked voices and the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears, you succumb to your body's desperation and fully close your eyes, wading into the quiet of the stream.

#cod #call of duty #cod ghosts #cod keegan #keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan p russ x reader #keegan russ x you #cod x reader #ghosts #call of duty ghosts #call of duty x reader #cod x you #call of duty x you #cod ghosts x reader

[qtse7a]

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : softcore - the neighbourhood

↺ ᴿᴱᴾᴱᴬᵀ ‖ ᴾᴬᵁˢᴱ ≫ ᴺᴱˣᵀ ˢᴼᴺᴳ

beautiful boy

luis sera/reader

summary: you give luis some loving.

tags: established relationship, fluff, body worship and praise, implied smut at the end but nothing graphic!!!

author’s notes: this is quite short, sorry!!

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ° ◛ ° ✩ ➴ • ♡ ° ┆

the back of your fingers gingerly brush against your boyfriend’s cheek. his eyelashes twitch against the apple of his cheeks as he shuffles a little, getting comfortable before dozing off again. you smile sweetly, thumb swiping over his cheekbone to appreciate his beauty properly. “my sweet boy.” you whisper, trying to slowly wake your lover. luis hums lowly, yet doesn’t wake. “it’s time to wake up, baby.” you coo, pressing a gentle kiss to his top lip. luis exhales slowly, hand moving to your lower back. “five more minutes.” he mumbles, accent thick on his sleepy voice. “sorry, sweet boy, but we have to get up soon.” you purr, kissing him again.

luis opens his eyes, admiring you a little. “good morning.” you smile, hand cupping his cheek properly. “good morning, mi sol.” (my sun) luis responds, hand moving up to rest atop of yours. “my beautiful boy. you’re so pretty.” you kiss his nose, spreading them across his cheeks. luis let’s out a gentle laugh, making no move to stop you as he closes his eyes; relishing your loving. “you’re gorgeous, luis. my pretty baby.” you pull away, smiling at him. “aye, you’re gonna give me a complex.” your boyfriend jokes, kissing your lips softly. “mhm… oh well.” you giggle against his lips, thumb gently stroking along his jawline; ignoring the scratchy feeling of his stubble. “love you.” luis mutters between gentle kisses. “i love you too.” you respond, voice hushed as you press another kiss to his lips- this one lasts longer and is much more firm.

“i love all of you.” you respond, hands moving to push underneath his sleep shirt as you straddle his hips; keeping your body leant down to continue kissing your boyfriend. luis hums, hands grasping your hips gently. “absolutely perfect, my handsome boyfriend.” you grin a little, pushing his shirt up; leaning down to kiss along his collarbones, leading them down to his chest. luis let’s out a gentle exhale, letting his body relax under your gentle touches and massages. you feel luis’ fingers curl into your shorts, grasping your hips more firmly as you kiss a trail up to his neck, the tip of your tongue slowly tracing shapes over his bronzed skin. “fuck- baby, c’mon…” he encourages softly, hand moving up to your side. you hum, suckling soft hickey over the skin of his neck, teeth teasing him. luis let’s out a gentle breath, left hand squeezing your hip tighter, you feel him shift under you. “careful, or you won’t be leaving his bed for a while.” he tells you, voice husky. you smile, kissing up to his lips to give him innocent pecks. “i guess i can live with that.” you coo, kissing him again. luis grins against your lips.

#luis sera #luis sera x reader #luis sera x you #luis resident evil #luis sera imagine #luis serra #luis serra x reader #luis serra x you #luis sera navarro #resident evil #resident evil luis #resident evil x reader #re x reader #re4 luis #re4 x reader #|| 🍁 qtse7a ‘s writing

[lutzlig]

Tumblrwoman Election Wrap-Up

To celebrate the end of this election, I'm gonna answer the rest of your questions!

First off:

Thanks everyone for participating! This ended up way bigger than expected. It was pretty exciting, seeing everybody chime in and participate.

Shoutout ESPECIALLY to all the people making fanarts, memes, etc... you people are incredible!!! Most of it can be found under #twe23, be sure to check it out, everybody!

Here's some highlights you people have made:

this github live number tracker made by @twilight-sparkle-irl during the vriska/katya poll. A THRILLING read!

this hollow knight miku oc by @anonymous-utility!! shes so cute...

@seasoned-cabbage made a wiki sandbox for the polls... it's so satisfying to see the stats laid out like this : D

@unidentifiedfroggy wrote fanfiction that just perfectly encapsulates the whole experience : ' )

General Q&A

"Who did you want to win?"

I myself think Vriska deserved the title most! I think vriska is just as integral to tumblr as Cecil is, if not more.

As for the other 2 involved, they didn't really care who won!

How often did you hear "Why are you pitting 2 bad bitches against each other"?

Often! One of us was going to count, but he got so annoyed that he stopped. You people need to get a new sentence.

"Why are there minors in a tumblrsexywoman contest?"

It's not a tumblr sexywoman contest, it's a tumblrwoman election! Before we made the poll, we considered whether it's better to throw out the minors or remove the "sexy" angle. We decided on the latter, mostly because this kind of competition would feel incomplete without tumblrgirls like miku and vriska.

Will you be doing this again next year?

Hm, not sure. Probably not! At least, I wasn't planning on it. We did this on a whim, and this is (SUPPOSED TO BE) my art blog.

I might make a blog for it next year, if these are still relevant and the demand is high (which i highly doubt).

Why didn't you answer my question?

I got like 130 asks this week and most of them were cries of pain and outrage. I was also incredibly busy irl until a day ago. If I didn't answer your question, Sorry!

Concerns about Corruption

According to the tags on these, every single one of the polls was rigged in some way or another. Particularly grievous examples of this were Miku's loss (I suspect Vriskavoters doing foul play (I am vriskavoters. I voted Bayonetta to sabotage Miku. Then i spent the whole day listening to Miku voicebank comparisons.)), and Marcie's win (Somebody accused the Adventure time subreddit of having swamped the poll. The post in question had 19 upvotes. The poll on tumblr had 92,123 votes).

What's more, I've been offered bribes!! Several american dollars! The political landscape of tumblr sure is a scary place...

Manners

Some of you really don't know how to act. This goes out to a small (but very, very vocal) minority - don't be a dick! Just because it's the internet does not mean you can just insult random strangers! This is a poll about fictional women, this is NOT a place to call people the r-word or imply someone is stupid for liking a character.

Some people left pretty graphic, violent messages. Most of these were jokes, but still. Take caution with the words you choose. This should go without saying, but telling strangers to "eat glass" and the like is not acceptable behaviour.

In the end, this was a competition between fictional characters, so seeing people arguing in the replies and trying to gain some sort of moral high ground was a little bit saddening.

Most of you were nice though, luckily : )

Thanks

To everyone who left kind messages, to everyone engaging and having fun, the fan art, the posts, to everyone expressing their thanks to us - thank you!!!

In the end, this was a lot of fun, and it was nice to see the website come together like that!

What's next?

For the next few days, I'm going to be promoting my friends' projects as much as I can to scare all of you people off of my blog.

I got WAY too many followers from this and frankly, that is simply not acceptable. You all need to leave NOW, because I want to get back to posting art eventually and I would rather not be on everybody's timeline.

That's why I have decided to become a massive sell out and reblog my friends' stuff on main for a bit. Peace!

#twe23 #tumblrwoman election asks #tumblrwoman election 2023

[hellfirexhoe]

Sweet Tooth - Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Y'all can thank @hellfire-puppet for this filth ;-)

Tags: 18+ content, Chef!Eddie, brief mentions of cheating (reader's boyfriend is a scumbag), graphic smut, oral sex (m&f receiving), unprotected sex in a restaurant kitchen, health code violations, creampie, not proofread

Summary: What is up with the hot new chef in your father's restaurant? / or Eddie loses focus and has a consensual workplace relationship.

6.2k words (I got extremely carried away, I regret nothing)

You’re not supposed to be working today, you are supposed to be packing to go back to college but Carly has called out sick and can’t cover her closing shift tonight, so of course you’ve been called in.

You’re running through the kitchen doors wrapping your apron around your waist with your waiting pad between your teeth. You glance up at the clock and grin as you realise you’ve made it in with 2 minutes to spare. 

You quickly confirm which section you’re taking over from and head out into the dining area, thankfully everything is running smoothly so you’re not required to clean up messes, put out fires and take orders all at once, which is a nice change of pace from your usual shift starts. You run your first order to the back and make eye contact with a new pair of eyes on the other side of the gantry, before you can speak you’re introduced to the new guy by the larger chef he’s working with,

“You working the close tonight?” 

“Unfortunately yes, really cutting into my packing time.” You groan and are offered a sympathetic smile,

“Well, this is Eddie. He’s working the close with you tonight so please be gentle with him.” You laugh and flash a smile at Eddie,

“I can’t promise that, we’ll have to see how I’m feeling at the end of the night.” You offer up your name to the new guy and he nods, a little awkwardly. You grab the plates in front of you and take them out to your table, checking everything is running smoothly once more. It gets steadily busier, it always does on Friday nights, you head into the kitchen and catch the dessert chef starting to flap a little bit with his orders. 

“Hey, take a breather. I’ve got the sundaes.” You’re met with a grateful nod and handed the whipped cream canister. You’re so focused on your task that you don’t notice you’ve attracted an audience of one, Eddie’s watching you from the other side of the kitchen, until he receives a gentle flick to the back of his head,

“Don’t even think about it. She's the boss man’s daughter.” 

As he speaks your finger slips on the nozzle and you spray whipped cream over the counter, making Eddie chuckle softly, and then groan inwardly as he watches your tongue dart over the cream on your thumb. You catch him watching you and offer him an embarrassed smile, everyone in the kitchen has trouble with those canisters, its not just a ‘you’ thing but it’s embarrassing nonetheless.

The rest of the shift passes quickly and without further incident, and in fact you’re able to finish your closing jobs fairly quickly, so you decide to see how Eddie’s doing in the kitchen,

“Hey! Need any help?” Eddie is placing the heavy grill panels into the cleaner for the night. He shakes his head,

“Nah, I got this.”

“Eddie, right? I’ve seen the schedule, this is your first solo close, please let me help. What can I do?”

“Uhh just the counters need wiping down and the fryers need draining. I’ve got the floor.” 

You nod and get started with draining the used oil from the fryers, taking care not to splash any of the oil. 

“So, Eddie, how are you finding it here? You can be honest, I’m not gonna go running to my dad.”

“Hmm, well I don’t hate it.” He laughs and so do you, “Honestly, gun to my head, I would have never placed myself in chef’s whites. Prison overalls maybe. But I’m really enjoying it, is that super lame?”

“No it’s not super lame, its lovely when someone comes in and is able to work and feel accomplished with that work.”

“Oh you are definitely fitted with a wire that is feeding back to your father.”

You roll your eyes, “No, I mean it. It’s important to do something you enjoy.”

“What about you then? The guys say you work here on breaks from college? I’m guessing you’re not studying Advanced Waitressing?”

“Not exactly, more like Education.”

“So like teaching?”

“That’s the one, always like the thought of fascinating tiny minds, kids hanging off my skirt by the end of the day because they enjoy my lessons so much.”

“That’s cute, as long as they’re small kinds and not like 14 year olds.”

This makes you laugh, “Yeah, screw working with teenagers.” You finish wiping down the last counter as you speak, then shifting your weight to perch on the counter while Eddie finishes mopping the floor, he playfully swats at you,

“Man, c’mon no asses on the nice clean counters!” You hop down and wait by the back door as Eddie finishes up mopping the floor. You can’t help but make a bad joke as he removes the hair net holding his curls,

“Nice mop.” Eddie snorts at this and follows you out, walking you to your car once you’ve confirmed the building is locked up. 

“Well, I’ll see you over Thanksgiving weekend.” Eddie nods,

“See you then.”

The Thanksgiving schedule gets sent out the week before you return home, typical of the managers to leave it until the last minute. You eye the shifts you’re going to be on for the 2 days you’re covering. Both are closes with Eddie, a small smile plays upon your lips as you register this.

“Okay, babe. Last chance, are you sure you don’t want to spend Thanksgiving with my family instead of slaving away in your family’s restaurant?” Your boyfriend pokes his head around the door to your bedroom, you shake your head.

“I’m sure, its too late to change plans now anyway. I don’t want to put your family out by surprising them.”

“Alright, I’ll let them know you definitely can’t make it.” You catch an edge to the tone of his voice, clearly frustrated with you and roll your eyes, you’d had plans to see your family and help out at the restaurant for far longer than the 2 months you had been dating your boyfriend, you weren’t about to dip on those plans.

The week seems to snail by and even the drive home feels like it takes longer than usual, in fact time crawls up until the second you are back in the restaurant. You catch Eddie’s eyes again as you enter the kitchen,

“Hey stranger, looks like we’re spending a lot of time together these two days.” You don’t mean to sound so flirty in your tone but it just seems to naturally sink in when you speak to Eddie. 

“Seems that way, should I expect a friendship bracelet?” Eddie is equally alarmed by the tone of his voice as he calls back to you across the kitchen, and its not unnoticed, he receives a few “dont you dare” glances from his colleagues and quickly turns back to his plating. You notice the tension you’ve caused and quickly duck out to the dining room, focusing on your job. It’s Thanksgiving so of course it is atrociously busy this evening, you barely have time to shout orders over the line before the previous 3 are ready to go to tables. But you make it through the shift, and you decide to do your last job in the kitchen, taking one of the dining room chairs and resting it opposite the counter. Cutlery wrapping is a mindless enough task that you and Eddie manage to hold a conversation, you congratulate him on how well he’s doing and he politely asks how college is going, keeping the conversation casual enough to distract himself from the tension he’s feeling. 

The second night and your last shift follows much the same pattern, you ending up wrapping cutlery in the kitchen, complaining to Eddie about how pointless it is to spend so much of your time wrapping the cutlery in the napkin, when nobody actually notices it, its not like your customers are fawning over the craftsmanship of it. Eddie laughs,

“Isn’t it part of the experience? Fancy wrapped cutlery by a grumpy waitress at midnight?”

“You think I’m grumpy?” You raise an eyebrow at him, amused by his assessment, he stops wiping down the counter and leans over it, his face moving closer to yours, you can’t help the way your eyes quickly dart down to his perfect pink lips for a split second before returning to his eyes,

“I think I’d hate to get on your wrong side.” 

You don’t respond, you can’t think with him this close to you and he seems suddenly aware of his proximity so slinks back, returning to cleaning the counter, cheeks a little pinker than before.

“So, um,” You clear your throat hoping to sound casual, “Your girlfriend must enjoy the improvement in your cooking at home right?” You do not sound casual, you sound insane. Eddie guffaws at you,

“No girlfriend, been single since birth practically. Smooth, though, very subtle.” He can’t help but smirk at the blush that ignites your face, “What about you?” He leans back on the counter behind him, folding his arms, flashing you glimpse of tattoos that his sleeves usually hide,

“There is someone at college.” Oh. Eddie can’t help but feel a little stab in his chest at this, he’s good with women, he knows when they’re flirting and he’d been fairly sure you had been, but maybe he’s not as perceptive as he thought?

“But…” Eddie likes the sound of a but, as cruel and selfish as that might make him sound. He tilts his head, indicating for you to continue. “But sometimes he makes me feel shit. Like I’m a disappointment or something.”

“Any man who makes you feel like you’re less than, is not good enough for you. You realise that right?” You look up, surprised at the boldness of his statement, “And that’s all of psychoanalyst Eddie you get for free tonight.” Eddie quickly shuts the conversation down, aware of how it might sound to someone on the outside if he was overheard, aware he’s being way too familiar with you and that he doesn’t know you well enough for this kind of conversation. The silence left in the kitchen is only broken by the sound of wrapped cutlery clinking into the trays before you. 

“I’m guessing you’ll be back for Christmas break?” Eddie’s voice makes you start slightly, and you nod,

“Of course, the best tips are at Christmas. Plus I can’t leave you to close this place down. I’d come back in the New Year to find the place burnt to cinders.”

“Oh you heard about the-”

“Yes I heard about the toaster incident.” 

The Christmas schedule looks to be fairly relentless, and you notice a few empty closing shifts needing cover. So you volunteer after sneaking a look at the chef on those nights.

The first shift back after Christmas you’re not closing, a small mercy as you ease back into the pattern of working. Eddie himself had booked the afternoon off to start his Christmas shopping so gives you a smile and a wave as he walks through the dining room, he lingers a little while longer when you’ve returned to your patrons, watching the way you flash a smile that he could only consider to be heartbreaking, watching as you bat your eyelashes at a man old enough to be your father as you hand him the check. He bites back a laugh as he sees the fistful of cash the man puts down as your tip. She gets them suckers good. You glance at him as you walk to the bar,

“See you tomorrow?” He shakes his head,

“Afraid not, do you not check my shifts on the schedule?” You definitely do but must have missed the alteration, “Don’t miss me too much, I’ll be back to play therapist the next day.” Stop fucking flirting idiot.

“I look forward to it.” You give him a genuine smile, one that would reduce him to putty in your hands if he stayed a moment longer. He suddenly feels bad for the men you disarm on the regular while working, they never stood a chance.

“Okay, I’m not an expert but something is bothering you.” Eddie hisses over the line at you as you grab plates,

“It’s nothing, just tired.” You plaster on the smile you wear in the dining room and head back out. Truthfully, it's not tiredness, but it's not something you want to discuss in a busy kitchen of gossips. Eddie chooses not to pester you further as you finish up dinner service, not wanting to cause you any stress that might make that smile falter.

“Alright, sit down and tell your therapist all that troubles you.” Eddie comes out of the kitchen as your lock the doors to the dining room. Eddie takes a seat at the table you’re yet to clean so as not to create more work for you. You don’t take a seat and instead start to stack plates, Eddie keeps his gaze trained on you until finally you break and make eye contact,

“Fine, fine. I am tired, I’m also sad.” Eddie waits to see if you’ll clue him in, not keen to pry too much,

“You know the boyfriend I was telling you about?” A nod, apprehensive. “Well, I was invited to go to his over Thanksgiving, but as you know, I was working. So obviously, heartbroken by the lack of my presence he decided to hook up with one of his sister’s friends. And I had to find out by his sister phoning me the second I was back in dorms.”

“That’s really scummy, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You’re not the one who cheated.”

Eddie takes the plates from your hands,

“I’ve got these, do you want some help out here?” You shake your head, grateful for the change in conversation,

“I’ve got it.” He nods,

“Come keep me company when you’re done? I’ve got a shit load to clean.”

You crack on with the front of house closing, practically flying around the dining room, determined to get out at a reasonable hour tonight. When you enter the kitchen it’s almost spotless, you can spy two jobs that are still outstanding so perch yourself on the counter and clean down the metal trays from the salad bar.

“Hey! How many times do I gotta say no asses on my counters?” You stick your tongue out at him and hop down, 

“Thought you’d go easy on me, given my heartbreak and all.”

“I’m not as easily manipulated as your customers, you’ll have to try harder.” 

“Watch yourself, if I really turned my charm on you’d be a goner.” Eddie doesn’t doubt it for a second.

“Go easy on me then, if you want to help the grill needs spraying with the degreaser." You nod, putting the trays away in their cupboard. Eddie is mopping the floor with his back to you as you step up to the grill, grabbing the spray with one hand, you stumble slightly in your worn out shoes and put out a hand to catch yourself,

“Shit!” You curse loudly as you draw your hand back from the surface of the grill, Eddie practically throws his mop down and drags you over to the sink, running the reddening surface of your palm under cool water.

“Well this is fucking embarassing.” 

“Yeah, it is like a day one lesson, don’t touch the grill.” Eddie smirks, “I think you’ll live though.” In spite of yourself you can’t help but notice how good his hands feel on yours, smooth, gentle. Eddie insists on keeping your hand under the water for a full ten minutes, until your hand feels numb and your fingers are all pruney. While he holds you in place, once he’s done teasing you for your accident, he asks what you do in town when you’re not working. 

“Study I guess.” You shrug, “That and sleep?”

“No, like for fun.” Eddie makes a face at you, as though what he’s asking should be obvious,

“Never heard of it.” Eddie snorts at the joke and responds in kind,

“Clearly.”

“What about you, what do you do for fun?” You peer up at him, taking in his deep brown eyes, letting yourself drink in his features before you catch yourself,

“Well, uh, I have a band, we play at The Hideout.”

You wrinkle your nose at the memory of many a bad date at the bar he’s describing, “There? It’s a total dive!”

“Well, I’m sorry princess but everyone has got to start somewhere.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Eddie smiles at you, clearly unbothered by your comment,

“It’s okay, I’ll chalk it up to being in pain from the burn.” Eddie switches the water off and reaches for the first aid box,

“I’m sure it will be fine. We don’t need to go all out with dressings and shit.” Eddie shakes his head,

“Nope, can’t have your skin sloughing off all over plates of food tomorrow night, we’re using the burn cream and we’re putting a dressing on it.” You crinkle your nose at the imagery he describes while he gently rubs the cream in a soothing circle, with featherlight touches. The dressing is applied in a similar, overly cautious fashion, to the point that his first attempt results in the dressing immediately slipping off from your hand.

“And… there! Perfect.” Eddie says with flourish, taking a step back dramatically for you to admire his work,

“What’s the prognosis doctor? Will I ever be able to wait tables again?”

“I’m sure your hands will live another day to be burned in another stupid manner.” You slap his arm with your unbandaged hand, the outrage on your face makes him laugh. You really like his laugh. You really like being the cause of his laughter. 

The following night you step into the kitchen, ready to help Eddie with closing the kitchen only to find the counters practically twinkling at you, equipment all stored and a few damp spots lingering on the just-mopped floor,

“Wow! Someone was busy!” You look around, half expecting to see another colleague in the kitchen helping him,

“What can I say? I’m a dedicated worker.” Eddie comes around the line, and reaches into the walk in fridge,

“I have something for you.”

“A gift? But it’s not Christmas yet!” Eddie laughs at your theatrics, the mock horror you’ve put on your face,

“Not really a gift, you’re going to be doing me a favour. Now, close your eyes and open your mouth.” You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously,

“Okay… But if you do anything weird I will have you fired, Munson.” Eddie rolls his eyes,

“Relax, just trust me, okay?” 

You do as he asks and open your mouth, albeit with a little hesitation. You feel the cold metal of a fork enter your mouth, the food is easy to recognise by taste and texture, you chew and swallow,

“I thought we’d stopped doing the brownies?”

“We did, this is my own recipe, I’ve been tweaking it. What do you think?” Your eyes are open now and you accept another forkful as it’s offered.

“Really good, like creaming in your pants good.” Eddie chuckles at this, dropping the fork and container onto the counter as he giggles. He finds himself leaning over you, sweeping his thumb over your bottom lip to remove the crumbs there,

“Food can be that good?” You lean into him, eyes dropping to his lips and then back to his eyes, your breathing hitches as you notice how his pupils are dilating, making his eyes look darker,

“Only when the chef knows what they’re doing.” Shit, what am I doing? Eddie steps back a little suddenly aware of the proximity and you notice the shift in atmosphere, maybe you stepped over the line with the creaming in your pants comment? Eddie quickly turns, tidying up the container and throwing the fork into the dishwasher.

“Okay, are we ready to lock up?”

“Mhm.” Eddie doesn’t make eye contact and prays you don’t notice his chef’s trousers sitting tighter around his crotch.

Eddie’s a lot more cautious of himself around you the next time you work together, keeping it so oddly formal that he’s coming across as rude to everyone else in the kitchen. You call him on it when you’re on break, storming out to the back of the restaurant where you know he smokes,

“Did I do something to you?” Eddie looks up from his chair, bewildered,

“No, why would you think that?”

“Then why are you acting like my existence in the kitchen is a personal insult to you?” Eddie pulls his hair net off and runs a hand through his hair, aggravated.

“That’s not, not what I’m trying to do.”

“Then what is it?” Eddie takes a long drag, mulling his answer over.

“It got weird last night, you know it did. I just don’t want anyone thinking I’m screwing the boss’ daughter for some kind of special treatment.” You kick at the floor, feeling guilty for the way you blew up at him, its valid that he would be concerned about that. You wrap your hands around your waist and offer a small joke,

“Well, just so we’re clear. The only way you would get special treatment is if you slept with my dad, and I hate to break it to you, but you’re really not his type.” Eddie laughs, taking care not to flick ash at your feet. “Eddie, I really like spending time with you, I just feel like we’re on a similar wavelength. You’re like my work husband.”

“I know what you mean.” He sighs, “You sure you’re not just being sweet so I’ll give you more treats?”

“Oh that is definitely why I’m being sweet, that brownie was-”

“Cream your pants good, yep, I remember.” 

You giggle at your terrible choice of words last night, “Okay, so are we good? No more weird formalities?” Eddie nods and follows you back into the restaurant, picking up where he left off in the kitchen.

Eddie starts making the food tasting thing a regular occurrence, though he never gets as close to you as he did the first time. He’s quick to improve and listen to feedback and the brownies were perfect after one tweak of using darker chocolate in them. 

“Alright I’ve got something new tonight. It’s a little out of season but I’m always up for a challenge. You know the drill, eyes closed, mouth open.”

“One day you’re going to make me regret the trust I’m putting in you, arent you?” You do as you’re asked as you speak.

“Whatever do you mean?” You can hear him chuckling softly, and cant resist trying to make him laugh more,

“Well, I’m trusting that the next thing going into my mouth is something sweet.” Eddie has to shake the thoughts you trigger out of his head before he caves and gives in to what he’s really wanting.

“No..I just like your honest feedback.” 

“Okay okay, what is this out of season culinary delight you’re hoping to improve?”

“I thought the game was you don’t know what I’m feeding you? But its a banana cream pie.

“Oh my god, I love cream pies.” You register what you’ve said milliseconds after the word leave your lips, your eyes snap open to Eddie’s looking ready to bug out of his skull, you hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds before he’s doubled over, giggles wracking his body,

“You sicko! You set me up for that!” 

“I did no such thing! Here I am, a humble chef, with a delicious pie that I’ve slaved over and you’re here making it into something filthy!” Eddie clutches at his heart with one hand, “If anything, you’re the sick one!”

The sight of Eddie pretending to be so wounded and mortified just makes you laugh, you manage to choke out an apology and close your eyes once more, though your shoulders still shake with small giggles as Eddie feeds you. 

“Now, is that not the best creampie you’ve ever had?” The pie leaves your mouth in a spray, forced out by your laughter as you slap his arm,

“Sorry, sorry! I couldn’t resist! No violence in the kitchen!!” You glare at him as you wipe your mouth and clean up your mess. 

“So how was it?” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at you as he clears up the box,

“I don’t know, someone made me spit it out all over your nice clean kitchen!” 

“My bad, here.” He holds up another forkful, and you take it, noticing the way he tenses up as you wrap your lips over the fork. 

“It’s good, really good!” 

“But not creaming in your pants good?” You groan and walk with him to the backdoor, he pauses by the bin to remove the god awful hairnet and unties the bun he’s wound his curls into, you sneak a glance as he shakes out his hair, his eyes are shut so you can really gawk at him, unfortunately your staring is cut short by Eddie’s eyes opening and catching you, smirking as he does so, you speak up hoping to distract him.

“You’re never going to let that one go are you?”

“Fuck no.” Eddie reaches over you to turn the lights off.

You walk together to the carpark and Eddie raises his eyebrow at your usual space being empty,

“Need a ride?”

You shake your head, “No, its okay, I can walk.”

“Get in the van.” Eddie unlocks the passenger side and holds the door open for you,

“Were those the last words your last victim heard?” You climb into the van with as much grace as you can, which is not a lot at the end of a busy shift.

“No, she heard ‘stop making shit jokes about my cooking’.” Eddie winks as he shuts the door, sealing you in.

The rest of the week is early shifts for you, and since Eddie is not about to make a creampie joke in front of the whole kitchen you find yourself missing your ‘work husband’s’ banter. Wednesday the following week is the next time you're closing together, it would have been Saturday but you did a couple of swaps with other staff. Wednesday’s are usually quiet, even during the holidays, so you manage to close the front of house in record time, and Eddie manages a similar feat in the kitchen, he's waiting for you when you step in, you can tell by the way he straightens up against the counter he was slouching against.

“I made some tweaks, care to review?” Eddie produces a slice of pie from the fridge and you nod, letting him feed you again, only you can’t help the giggles that shake your shoulders as you taste the food,

“For God’s sake, stop thinking about creampies you deviant! Think, what’s different?” 

You focus, its definitely different, maybe even better and as much as you don’t want to tease him too much you really can’t place the difference,

“I don’t know Eddie, did you… creampie the cream pie?” You feign horror at this,

“You’re so disgusting.” Eddie’s smiling at you, clearly amused by how he’s got a tweak past you and you can’t place it. You grab the fork from his hand and take another bite, getting cream on your nose in the process.

“Aw, hell.” 

“What?” You attempt, unsuccessfully, to lick the cream from your nose.

“Look at you. Looking all adorable and messy like we’re in a damn romcom.” You blush, dropping your gaze to the floor,

“You think I’m adorable?” Eddie sweeps a finger over your nose to wipe the cream off, placing his finger in his mouth,

“Obviously I think you’re adorable.” You take a step forward, pressing yourself against him and looking at his lips, then back up to his eyes, he swears those doe eyes of yours will break him one day but this time he steps back and smiles a little ruefully,

“You know nothing can happen between us right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your dad.”

“Eddie. I am about to be a college graduate. Do you really think my father has or even wants a say in who I date?”

“But the other guys were sayi-” You cut him off with a wave of your hands

“Yeah those other guys were warned off because I was barely 18 when I started working here, it would have been wildly inappropriate for anything to have happened, also I wasn't interested in any of them, not like you” You pause for a breath, holding your finger up to indicate you’re not done, “Do you think I volunteer for closes every night? I hate the closing shift but hanging out with you makes it almost worth it.”

“You done?” You nod,

“Thank fuck.” Eddie sweeps you up in his arms and presses his lips to yours, pushing you back against a counter, its messy and desperate, your hands quickly yanking that stupid fucking hair net off his head, Eddie’s own hands come to your apron, pulling the loose bow and letting it drop to the floor, his hands travel to your thighs, lifting you onto the counter, he breaks the kiss first but never lets his lips leave your skin for a second, kissing down to your neck,

“I thought you said no asses on counters.” You breathe out as he sinks his teeth into your neck,

“I’ll make an exemption just this once.” He growls out, 

“I hope it’s not just once.” Eddie’s laugh tickles your neck, making you shiver against him, he pulls you closer in response, unbuttoning your shirt and planting kisses to the newly exposed flesh there. You take advantage of his distraction and start palming him over his trousers, but you don’t leave him wanting for long, your hand slips under the waistband and grasps his thick length making him hiss 

“Shit, you’re keen.” 

“I want you, Eddie. I want to taste you, feel you in my mouth.” He’s died. He’s died and gone to heaven. That’s the only explanation for what is happening right now. He nods wordlessly and helps you to push his chequered trousers and boxers down.

You’d felt it with your hand but seeing the way your hand can barely wrap around Eddie’s cock makes your jaw drop slightly, you push him back so you can slide off the counter and drop to your knees before him, you run your tongue in a slow stripe from the base off him before lapping up the precum leaking from his tip, never breaking eye contact with him, you have him clutching at the counter behind him, weak from the lightest touch. He’s a goner when you wrap your lips around him, taking him deeper and deeper into your mouth without so much as a break for a breath, when your lips kiss the skin at the base of his cock he’s sweating, practically convulsing as he fights the urge to fuck your pretty throat, he doesn’t have to fight the urge for long, as you start bobbing your head, pulling back only to suck him back in, making him whimper as he wraps your ponytail around his hand, to give himself even a semblance of control.

“Shit.. how the fuck are you taking so much of it?” Eddie’s cock twitches in your thoat and tears prick at your eyes, making your eye make up run, you withdraw slowly, keeping your tongue pressed firmly to him until you release him with a lewd pop.

“Pretty sure I was taking all of it, big boy.” Eddie’s panting but he scoops you up off the floor, leaning you against the counter as he undoes your zipper, pulling your trousers and underwear down in one deft move, before he turns you around and pushes you to bend at the waist over the counter, you’re expecting him to fill you with his aching cock, and spread your legs in anticipation, but when his wet tongue licks a path from your clit to your soaked entrance, and carries on to your other tight hole you can’t help but yelp in surprise,

“You good?” Eddie comes away from your body,

“Yes, so fucking good.” Eddie’s big hands massage at your ass cheeks as he returns to his long licks that make your thighs shake, you whine as his mouth comes away from you but the whine quickly becomes a long drawn at moan as you feel his fingers slipping into your soaked cunt, stretching you out with a delicious sting, as you adjust Eddie starts to work his tongue around your tight ass hole, the sensation entirely new to you, but fucking blissful. 

Eddie’s messy as he alternates between eating your ass and pussy, drool and your slick running down his chin and your thighs, one hand still knuckle deep inside you, rubbing your g-spot and the other hand digging into the soft flesh of your ass. His groans create vibrations that increase your pleasure, making you whine and cry out, your words have long since ceased to make sense, its not just cries of his name, begging him not to stop. And he doesn’t, not until your thighs are shaking, walls fluttering around his fingers, and you’re practically sobbing as your orgasm knocks the air from your lungs. You feel him stand up behind you and stroke your back softly, an almost jarring change of pace, you turn your head to look at him,

“Okay so no pressure, but I don’t as a rule bring condoms to work.” There’s an apologetic smile, as if that’s going to stop you,

“So?”

A devious smile on his lips, “You want to take me raw? Bad girl.” He’s already rubbing the head of his cock through your slick, making you gasp anytime he brushes past your clit,

“Eddie, please, fuck me.” 

“Since you asked so politely.” He sheathes himself inside you in one fluid motion that has your back arching, he gives you a moment to adjust before his hips are slapping against your ass, grunting as he feels the vice like grip of your walls around him,

“You’re so fucking tight, and so fucking wet.” Eddie purrs as he slams into you faster, relishing in the way your body grips him, and the wet sounds produced by every thrust.

“Feels so good, Eddie, so, so, so good.” Your voice trembles as you try to speak, words coming out in time with every relentless thrust of Eddie’s cock into you. You can feel Eddie’s balls smacking stickily against your clit, making you tremble at the stimulation, Eddie himself struggling to hold back his own orgasm as he feels your slick running down his balls.

“Eddie, Eddie, ‘m gonna cum.” Music to his ears, he keeps his pace, relentless and well-timed until he has you coming undone beneath him, curse words flying from your bitten lips, walls holding him inside you, whole body shivering as the pleasure washes over you. 

“Good girl.” He soothes you, letting his thrusts still until you’re relaxed around him, “Does this good girl want a pussy full of my cum as a reward for being so good for me?” You nod, barely able to lift your head from the pool of drool on the counter top. 

“Think you can manage words?” Eddie is thrusting into you slowly, keeping himself under control,

“Want your creampie Eddie.” Eddie laughs at your weak voice making a joke and pulls almost out, until just the tip of his cock remains inside you before he slams back in, knocking you breathless for a moment, he keeps up this brutal pace, relishing in your moans and the way your hands search for purchase on the counter top, until he’s emptying himself into you, becoming lightheaded. Eddie stays inside you for a few minutes, letting you both catch your breath. Eventually you straighten up, turning to Eddie, who looks fucked out in the most beautiful way, cheeks flushed, hair barely held in the bun he had tied his hair into, bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat.

“How was that?” He asks with a cheeky grin as you pull your clothes back on quickly, 

“5 stars. Shame about all the health code violations we just committed.” Eddie shrugs,

“Well worth it.” You have to agree with him there, you wait for him to pull his own clothes back on and pull him down to you to kiss him, there’s no lessening of the desire in it, in fact, the desperation of his kiss feels more intense, like he could go again in 10 minutes. Eddie breaks the kiss first, a dopey grin on his face,

“Okay, you can wipe the counter, I’ve got the floor.” You pout,

“Don’t look at me like that, the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can go back to my place and do that all over again.” You nod, struck a little dumb that he could be ready to go again in such a short amount of time.

“It's real vanilla pods instead of extract, by the way. The pie.”

#eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie fucking munson #eddie munson fic #stranger things #eddie core #eddie munson one shot #eddie my beloved #eddie x reader #eddie my love #chef eddie #chef!eddie

[shibaraki]

tags: GN reader, established relationship, spoilers for chapter 282, prosthetic limb, PTSD symptoms (flashbacks; mildly graphic description of injury and canon self amputation), hurt/comfort

wc: 1k

“Let me help with something”.

Shouta subtly leans into the doorframe as to relieve his right side of the weight and hopes you don’t take notice, instinctively cautious. You’re still wearing your pajamas, sleeves pushed up to wrinkle around your elbows as you prepare breakfast, knife in one hand and tomato in the other.

You’re drawn to his voice mid cut, knife hitting the cutting board as you glance over to him. Your expression pinches in concern. “Good morning love,” you speak with a gentle yet scolding intonation to your words, “where are your crutches?”

He shifts back a little more onto the right as if to visually reassure you, and is internally thankful that no discomfort follows the sudden movement this time. In the wait for his new permanent leg Shouta’s residual limb was fitted for a temporary prosthetic and it’s been somewhat awkward getting used to putting it on by himself — but he thinks he might’ve finally gotten the hang of it.

You make an aborted motion towards him as he starts to walk over, lingering anxiously with hands held out just in case he falls. He can’t resent you for caring, for not wanting to see him hurt again. Aligned with the phantom sensation it feels almost as if the lower half of his leg is entirely asleep, with none of the uncomfortable static. But it’s stable; he doesn’t feel as if his knee is going to give, or that his ankle is going to collapse.

“See?” he murmurs once close enough, supported against the kitchen surface as he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your parted lips, “I’m fine. It’s getting easier”.

You chase his mouth as he moves back to kiss him again, the heels of your palms cradling his cheeks as you keep your fruit-soiled fingers held away from his face. “Of course it is,” you huff fondly, “my incredible husband. Are you ever gonna let yourself rest?”

He smiles, straining at the seams. Your question, though spoken with affectionate mirth, stirs up feelings of guilt resting in the sediment of his chest. This year had been unlike any other, especially in terms of his own injuries, and you hadn’t been sleeping well because of it. Still, he can’t apologise, because he isn’t sorry. And you don’t want him to be either.

“Will you keep asking questions you already know the answer to?” he counters, encircling your wrists so he can bow forward, breathing as he tucks his face to your jugular and nuzzles. After days of being in the hospital his scruff has grown back in, scratching the soft skin of your throat.

“Stop distracting me. I’m trying to make your breakfast,” you complain with no real malice behind it, “you need to eat before your medication, Shouta”.

“Then let me help,” he repeats. You relent to his request without much of a fight, already aware of how difficult it’s been for him to just sit around and wait. Shouta enjoyed relaxing, sure, but only when it came after something actionable; teaching a class, carrying out patrol, or even four hours of paperwork — not nothing.

“I guess you can take over the tomato station then,” you indicate towards the knife and chopping board, two more left to slice, “but that’s all! I’m doing the rest, got it?”

He hums roughly in agreement. This would have to do. The knife’s handle is smooth against his palm as he grasps it in one hand, the other steadying the first tomato atop the chopping board. It glints under the dull ceiling lights, and a pebble settles in his stomach as he begins.

Inhale. He pushes his weight forward and the skin dimples slightly, resisting the knife's edge that has blunted with time until it cuts, and the fruit bursts open. Exhale. Dark red coats his hand and splatters across the wooden surface, a viscous mess of seeds and juice settling between old cracks. It smells like… smoke. He watches the tomato’s flesh ooze between his fingers, eyes burning with the reflexive urge to blink.

“Shouta?”

His leg throbs, the knife carved through it. There is… Blood is pooling beneath him, saturating his clothes, or so it might be. It’s hidden by the black fabric, sodden where it sticks to his skin. Somewhere there’s the reverberated boom of a quirk induced explosion and wind from impact, the helplessness in his students voice, the panicked anger. A solid silhouette is rushing him, pale hand caging his face. Shigaraki. He’s here, in your shared apartment. He’s here—

“Shouta!”

He’s brought to the surface as the knife clatters against the countertop, slipping helplessly from his grip. Your arm is tight around his waist, a hand pressed right where his heart sits. He sucks in a startled breath and holds it, trembling in place as you call for him.

“Come back to me, baby. I need you to blink for me,” your voice is thick with emotion, pleas cloying in your throat. He can hear that you’re crying: “I promise we’re safe, Shouta. You have to blink, please”.

He does once, so quick that you can barely tell, just enough to moisten his eyes. Your praises are muffled and disjointed beneath the intrusive drum of his pulse, but soothing all the same. You’d always quietened his thoughts, always known the right thing to say, always been a proverbial lifeboat. He wanted to soak in your patient love as if it were a hot bath, one he never had to get out of, one that would never get cold. It’s safe, warm. He’s here, not there. Not anymore.

He blinks again, for just a few seconds longer, and he breathes again. “That’s it. No need to strain yourself my love. We’re home,” you give a wet exhale as you lean against his shoulder, “you’re home”.

He rests his cheek atop the crown of your head and the two of you remain embraced in silence, his residual limb beginning to ache, a radiating pain behind his right eye socket. “All my years as a Pro and I’m reduced to this because of a tomato,” he mutters tiredly.

He feels it when you tilt up to look at him, and so he looks down at you, foreheads meeting as you reach to cradle his jaw. The pad of your thumb traces across the scar curved along his cheekbone and his eyes fall closed.

“Next time I’ll put you in charge of the rice”.

#bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Lessons in Antici--pation

Summary: Jensen and Y/N are moving things to the bedroom.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Fingering. Oral (f receiving) some mild dirty talk. virgin!reader. age gap.

Pairings: Jensen x Y/N

Word Count: 2,503

A/N: So, this will continue on from:

If You Teach a Girl to Kiss...

...She'll Be Back to Learn About Hickeys

Teaching How to Touch

I'll be continuing to progress through Jensen and Y/N's evening together and touching on some of the other specifics that the lovely @kayyay1219 requested. Stay tuned for all the lessons! 😜

Hope you all enjoy!

A/N 2: As always, of course this is a Jensen from another part of the Multiverse, who is single. This is an absolute work of fiction.

The beautiful dividers both below and at the bottom were created by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist || Tag Lists

I took a deep, shuddering breath. “Jensen, that was…” I shook my head, words eluding me.  “It was…”

“Just the beginning, baby.” Jensen promised, with a smile against my skin.

He pulled back slightly and caught my eye. “Or, if you want, it can be the end. It’s up to you.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not ready for things to end.”

Jensen’s smile was sexy and inviting. “Then let’s go to the bedroom, sweetheart.”

I nodded shyly and let Jensen help me stand up. He kept hold of my hand and led me down the hallway to his room. 

When we entered, I looked around, noting that the décor was masculine and warm, muted colors and natural fabrics, very Jensen. It was softly lit, just a couple of lamps giving off a soft yellow glow, and it made for a very romantic atmosphere. Like the rest of his apartment, his bedroom was neat without being pristine, and I was immediately put at ease, welcomed.

Jensen closed the door softly and then turned me so he could press me against the wall and capture my lips in a slow, languid kiss. When he pulled away, his face was serious and for just a moment, it worried me a little. Had I made a mistake, done something wrong? But his next words made warmth and peace flood through me.

“Y/N, before we go any further, I need you to know that I care about you very much. I care about your needs, and I want to make you feel good, make you hot and desperate for me.” His voice was low and husky, and definitely increased my desperation for him. “But more importantly, sweetheart, I care about you feeling comfortable and safe. So, I want you to know up front, that no matter what you say, or what I say, no matter what we do or don’t do, no matter how far we’ve already gone, the power to stop things immediately, will always rest in your hands. You say the word, and that’s it, we stop.”

I felt my heart tug and any tiny feelings of apprehension that had remained, dissolved completely. This was the man I wanted to take my virginity; I couldn’t have fantasized a more perfect first time, or a more perfect person to teach me and lead me through it all.

I smiled widely. “Thank you.” I said quietly, not knowing how else to convey my appreciation of his considerate words and assurances.

But Jensen just shook his head, as he pressed closer and brushed his thumb across my lower lip. “No need for thanks, sweetheart; there are things I’m gonna do to you tonight that’ll make you say ‘thank you sir, I’d like some more’,” he smiled wickedly at his cocky promise, “but just being a decent human being isn’t one of them.”

I nodded breathlessly, completely captivated by the sinful thoughts I could see swirling in his mossy green eyes.

Jensen spoke softly as he ran his hands over my shoulders and down my arms, taking my hands in his. “Now, what I’ve taught you so far, the kissing…” he dipped his head to kiss me briefly before moving his lips to my neck, “...the hickeys...” 

He nibbled at my skin and his scruffy cheeks made me let out a breathless giggle that turned into an equally breathless moan as he moved his hand to push against my core.

“The touching, the grinding…” His voice got raspy and his breathing got slightly more shallow as he continued. “...the over-the-clothes petting - all of those things could be classified as just general making out.”

I nodded, trying to follow what he was saying, but in truth I was too focused on the way his big hand cupped my covered pussy so well, so perfectly. I tried to subtly push down against it, but he pulled it away and I whined.

He grinned at my neediness, continuing on with his lesson. “But now, I wanna teach you about foreplay.”

He popped open the button of my jeans, pausing for a second before ever so slowly lowering my zipper. “Foreplay is about teasing, tempting. It’s about promises of what’s to come.” He slowly slid a warm hand under the waistband of my panties, and I let out a choked cry as his fingers found my slit and swept through the slick I could feel gathering there.

“It’s about hinting at what to expect, fueling a fire in your partner so that they’re dizzy with wanting you,” He gently slid his middle finger past my entrance, and then moved it in and out of my body causing me to thump my head back against the wall and grab hold of his thick wrist with my two hands, my lips parted, panting softly.

“Do you want me, Y/N?” Jensen whispered roughly in my ear. I nodded wildly and then let out a keening moan as he pushed in a second finger, filling me up and stretching me wider. Then he curled his fingers forward as though he was beckoning me onward towards madness and he hit a spot inside me that had white dots appearing behind my eyelids, and I practically screamed before biting down on my lip to silence myself.

But Jensen increased the pace of his fingers and pressed against the spot again. “No, don’t hold back, sweetheart. Go ahead and scream for me, baby.” He said, as he began to circle his thumb on my clit. I grabbed hold of his arms for balance as I stood on tiptoe, trying to find some reprieve from the torturous pleasure he was dragging out of my body. I dug my nails into his hard tricep muscles, and finally gave up trying to censor myself. 

Strangled cries of pleasure erupted from my throat as he kept pumping his fingers in and out of my tight, wet channel. When I was moments away from coming on his hand, he pulled away, taking his hand out of my panties and bringing it to his lips. I could see the glistening slick that covered his thick fingers and moaned deeply as he proceeded to suck up every drop. 

“Mmm…” He licked his lips. “Foreplay is also about creating anticipation, and I’m telling you that fingering you now, getting this small taste of you, fuck baby, it’s got me dying to bury my cock so deep inside you. But first, I need to taste more of you.”

He pulled me over to his big king sized bed, and stood me beside it. He unbuttoned my top shirt button before looking me in the eye, clearly asking if it was okay to keep going.

“Yes, take it off.” I answered his unspoken question. “I…I want to feel your hands on my bare skin.”

I didn’t know where the boldness came from, but I could see how it made Jensen’s eyes darken; only small rings of jade circled his blown pupils as he slowly but surely, opened every button, pushing the shirt from my shoulders when he was done. 

“Where do you want my hands, sweetheart?” He asked, brushing his fingers featherlight across my lower abdomen. “Here?”

He moved his hands to my shoulders and scraped calloused palms over them as he pushed down my bra straps. “Or maybe here?” 

He slipped his arm around to my back and made quick work of the hooks on my bra; they gave way easily and the lacy undergarment slid off my body, exposing me to his heated gaze. 

“I’ll tell you where I want my hands.” He said as he dragged his blunt nails over the soft sides of my breasts, before reaching the front and palming them both in his massive hands. “Right here.”

He rolled my nipples between his thumb and forefinger and I felt an electric shock flow straight to my cunt, causing me to clench my core muscles, and I realized for the first time how desperately I wanted to be filled. Then he dipped his head and sucked my nipple and half my tit into his mouth, sucking deeply and making me thrust my hands into his hair and tug harshly. He grunted and I held him tight to me, as he continued to suck, and lick and nibble at the sensitive skin.

Finally he pulled away and stepped back. I was about to complain, but then he crossed his arms and grabbed hold of the waistband of his navy blue henley, pulling it from his body in one smooth motion. I sighed deeply as I took in the splendor of his bare, lightly freckled torso. 

His muscles were broad and thick, and I took a step forward so that I could splay my hands on his pecs, biting into my lip as I pressed my fingers into the hard muscle and taut skin there. I trailed my right hand down over his flat, slightly softer belly, rasping my nails through the line of coarse hair that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.

I popped open the button on his jeans as he had mine, but he caught my wrist and held it fast. “Not yet, sweetheart.” He said with a smile. “You get your hands and that hot little mouth on me, and this night might end quicker than we’d like.”

He put his hands to my waist and tossed me backwards onto the bed, and I let out a wholly indignant squeal. Jensen chuckled as he fell on top of me, bracing his weight on his elbows. “Now I gotcha right where I wantcha” He said with a wink.

I laughed at his lascivious expression and pulled him to me for a kiss. He pulled my tongue into his mouth and immediately started sucking on it, before licking up into me, sliding his velvety tongue along the roof of my mouth. 

He pulled back only to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of my throat and then over my chest. He stopped to lavish attention on each breast, licking and sucking at me until I was just a writhing mess, arching into his mouth, and trying to press my needy core upwards to gain some friction against the hard thigh he had shoved between my legs.

Finally, he continued his journey down my body, dipping his tongue into my belly button and swirling it there, as his hands grabbed the sides of my jeans and underwear and yanked them down and off. I was slightly shy and covered myself up with my hands, pushing my knees together. 

Jensen ran his hands gently over my thighs and looked down at me from where he kneeled between my calves. “Do you wanna stop, sweetheart?” He asked. “Or do you just need some time?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t wanna stop, but I…I’m nervous.” I blushed profusely. “What if…I mean, what if I don’t taste…good, or I don’t know, smell weird or something.”

Jensen smiled softly, reassuringly. “Every woman tastes different, some more tangy, some sweeter, but I already sampled you baby, and I promise, you taste sweet and delicious.” He inhaled deeply through his nose. “And you smell like sex and temptation sweetheart, have since the very first time I met you.”

I giggled a little breathlessly. “Are you trying to tell me that I’ve been tempting you for months while I sat around thinking I had no chance, just lusting after you?”

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “Have you been lusting after me all this time, baby?”

“Yes.” I answered succinctly, shaking my head at our foolishness. “Why did it take us this long to do something about our mutual problem?”

Jensen laughed, and the deep rich sound warmed my whole body, and eased my knees open. “I don’t know,” he said, bending my legs, and pushing my knees wide, “but let’s not waste any more time. What do you say?”

I licked my lips and nodded, pulling my hands away from myself. Jensen’s jaw clenched in an incredibly sexy way as he stared at my soaked folds, and his voice was like smooth chocolate as he spoke.

“God damn, Y/N, this weeping little pussy of yours is about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” I noticed that his Texan drawl tended to pop out more when he was talking dirty and I absolutely loved it.

He laid out flat on the bed, his broad shoulders keeping my legs pushed open easily. I could feel his warm breath against me just before he dipped his tongue into my slit to kitten lick my clit, forcing my hips to rear up off the bed, as a shocked, heated shout erupted out of me.

“Holy fuck!”

Jensen just chuckled low and wrapped his arm around my thigh so he could press his hand against my stomach to keep me in place while he began feasting in earnest. He started slow, licking long stripes through my pussy, his wide tongue lapping up every drop of slick that gathered there.

Soon though, he brought his free hand up so he could hold my lips open with two fingers, while he flicked the tip of his tongue back and forth across my clit, before he began to spear my entrance with it, pushing into me very shallowly, teasing me and tormenting me.

“Jensen, please!” I moaned out as I tugged on his hair. “Please!”

But he was relentless, bringing me to the edge of my orgasm over and over before backing off and moving his luscious mouth to a less sensitive area, nibbling at my upper thighs, or pressing kisses into the crease where my leg meets my hip.

I was close to shedding tears of need when he gave in at last; and when he finally decided to put an end to the torture, my climax was almost immediate. He pulled my clit between his swollen, pink lips, sucked hard, and I screamed, falling endlessly over the edge into ecstasy as he kept it going, prolonging the high with his magical lips and tongue.

Shuddering so hard my teeth almost rattled, the last spasms of my climax rolled over me as Jensen moved up my body to lay alongside me. He pressed petal soft kisses against my temple and swept his hand gently up and down my torso. He whispered sweet praises and endearments against the shell of my ear as my breathing slowly returned to normal.

Finally, when I could breathe again, I turned my head to look up into his stunningly gorgeous green eyes. “That was unbelievable.” I said in wonder.

“Good.” He said, his smile bright, before he leaned down to kiss me softly. When he pulled back, I decided to try out some of my new found confidence and boldness as I cupped my hand around the massive bulge that was pushing against the front of his jeans.

“Teach me how to make you feel the same?”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

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3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

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4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

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#jensen ackles rpf #jensen smut #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles fan fic #fic request

[secretlywritingstories]

Future's gonna be okay | BTS one shot

Summary: Yoongi never thought he’d get a tattoo, but then again, he never anticipated that BTS would mean this much to him and so many others. He wore the tattoo with pride, and he was finally ready to share it with ARMY.

Word count: 3.9k

Tags: 2023!BTS, getting his 7 tattoo, introspection, shoulder injury, Agust D Tour, AMYGDALA mv, he loves BTS so much, you guys

Warnings: Talk about Yoongi's shoulder injury and his surgery (not graphic), and the scars on his shoulder, thoughts of the impending enlistment.

A/N: This is how I'm dealing with the Agust D tour ending. Gotta get my feelings out somehow <3

Read on AO3 or below

Yoongi wasn’t entirely sure when it turned from a loose idea, almost like a joke, into a tangible thing that they wanted to do. The idea of a shared tattoo had been floated around among them before, but it had never quite taken hold until they announced hiatus on group activities.

The last few years had been strange. Ever since the pandemic had slowed everything to a grinding halt, it had felt like they were caught in some weird type of limbo. Releasing singles in English and a few scattered concert dates without a live audience. The concerts came back eventually, they made an album that was supposed to be bye for now, but then plans changed again.

The will-they-won’t-they about the exemption of military enlistment had been hanging over their heads for entirely too long. Yoongi was happy that they finally decided to just go along and do the enlistment on their own terms. Even if it hurt to say goodbye to Seokjin hyung and Hoseok, to rub their shaved heads and send them off for more than a year. Into a world none of them had any experience with.

They’d done well. Of course, they’d done well because they were BTS, and the BTS members were nothing if not stubborn and determined. Gritting their teeth through pain and struggle to chase the dream.

Yoongi knew he was like that too. Back when they’d been trainees who refused to leave the dorm and give up on the idea of debuting. How he’d hid his shoulder injury in fear that it would rip away the future that he’d worked so hard for. A split second, a crash, and pain exploding through his body. How it could take away so much more than his mobility if he couldn’t keep dancing and performing. He had to keep going.

“We’ll be with you in a moment,” the receptionist told Yoongi with a polite smile. Their arms were covered in beautiful tattoos, sleeves that reminded Yoongi of Jungkook’s arm.

He nodded and tried not to feel nervous. Maybe he should have taken up offer from the members to get the tattoos done together. Seokjin, Hoseok, Namjoon and Taehyung had never tried to get tattooed before either, but they had also easily agreed to the special tattoo. After all, this wasn’t really a tattoo as such. It was something much more. A mark to connect the seven of them forever.

Yoongi could never have anticipated how deeply he’d care for those six boys, most of whom he’d met for the first time only wearing underwear in the dorm. How far they had come since then.

He twisted his shoulder a little, an old habit that had never quite gone away. It was one good thing to come from the pandemic halting their activities for so long. It gave a space for Yoongi to finally acknowledge that he couldn’t keep the pain in check with the injections anymore. It had been getting a lot worse, he still remembered the burning anger at himself when he had to skip part of the Black Swan choreography because he couldn’t do the required movement.  

The surgery and the subsequent recovery had been painful. He’d been ready to curse out his physical therapy trainer more than once, but he’d always just clenched his teeth and obeyed. He’d do anything to get better, to get back into shape for performing. While the rest of his members performed at the end of year shows, he watched from home and did the work on his damn shoulder.

It was never going to be like before the injury. So many years of delaying surgery and relying on injections hadn’t benefitted him either. He knew that, but he wouldn’t have changed it. He would never want to change anything about their journey, as hard as it had been.

Not if it would risk them not getting here again.

“Min Yoongi-ssi?” the tattooist asked, coming out to greet him.

Yoongi rose from his seat and tried to keep his breathing steady. It was just a tattoo. Jungkook had a whole damn arm of them, and he’d even gotten some of them coloured in and shaded. This was a small number, just two lines. Easy to do.

Even if the meaning of that small number was massive.

He was the last one who needed to get it. He’d been dragging his feet for long enough.

Yoongi followed the tattoo artist into his work space, and he tried not to fidget too much. When they’d talked to HYBE about how they wanted to get a group tattoo, the company had provided them with a list of tattoo artists in Seoul, including the ones that had worked on Jimin and Jungkook before. They’d also provided a portfolio for each artist, even if they were just getting a small little thing done.

Yoongi had saved all of his members’ tattoos to show this artist. Most of them had been revealed on social media already, but he had asked everyone to take photos for him, up close and clear. The members had teased him that he was going to chicken out and not do it.

As if he would ever go back on a promise made to the members.  

“Want to show me a reference for what you want?” the tattoo artist asked with a warm smile. He must have seen Yoongi fiddle with his phone.

He nodded and showed the photos. He waited for some kind of comment about seeing the infamous BTS group tattoos. It was strange to think about how almost everyone in the country knew him and his members. If not by name or face, then they’d still have heard of them. It was the kind of fame that was suffocating at times, when he just wanted to be Min Yoongi.

But without it, he wouldn’t be producer and BTS member SUGA, and he didn’t want to give that rush up for anything.

“I’m going to draw up some options for you, okay? And if you don’t like any of them, we’ll try something else,” he said, not making any comment about the photos, and went to get his sketch book.

Yoongi nodded and listened to the sound of pencil on paper while he looked at collection of the tattoos on his screen. Even the members who’d never thought that they’d get a tattoo had jumped in willingly. The tattoos were small and discreet, quite easy to conceal. Jimin and Jungkook’s were the only ones that couldn’t easily be concealed by clothing but even so, they’d been placed somewhere they wouldn’t be obvious on a first glance.

Yoongi was handed a whole page of 7s all skilfully written. When he’d booked this appointment, the tattoo artist had asked if he wanted to see options beforehand to decide. Yoongi knew that Namjoon had done that, and it had delayed his process a whole lot while he was agonising over which lettering to get.

And then he’d been disappointed that it had been over in just a handful of minutes. The 7 forever etched into his skin.

Yoongi chose on a whim. He decided against having a slash over it like the maknae line had. He picked the one that seemed simple, straightforward and neat.

“This one,” he said, and wondered if it was a bad sign that he could pick one out so easily.

Or maybe it was a good sign. It was not really about the tattoo itself. It was about what it represented.

And even more where it would be placed.

“Good, I’ll just get that ready up for you. Where do you want it?”

Yoongi had been thinking about this a whole lot more than about the design of the number. He’d considered where he could put it. He didn’t want it obviously visible, but he would like to be able to see it with his own eyes.

And then it had hit him exactly where it should be placed. There was only really one option. It seemed a little too much like fate to ignore it.

“Left shoulder,” Yoongi said.

He had a lot of scars on his shoulder. From the original crash, but also newer ones from the surgery. His struggle was literally carved into his flesh, bright and ugly. The ones from the crash hadn’t healed well. He’d never even gone to the hospital. He’d been young and desperate and hanging on by his fingertips. Debut was within reach and he was going to make it. He had to make it.

And he did.

He had a few small injection scars too. Too many years of relying on shots lubricate his joints and manage the pain and to be able to perform. It had never been a permanent solution; it had just been all they had to keep him going. Being stabbed over and over with a needle hadn’t been fun, and now he was getting a tattoo.

At least he had practice.

The surgery scars were subtle and clean. They had been minimised as much as possible, and Yoongi knew that the doctors had probably taken extra care to put him back together as beautifully as possible. He’d almost wanted to tell them that it didn’t matter. He wasn’t afraid of scars.

He carried them with pride.

But he was excited for his shoulder to bear the mark of something else. Not trauma, not pain management, not repair. BTS. His members. The love he felt for them living on his skin.

He’d thought his life and dream was done when he injured his shoulder. Now he’d mark that era with the proof that he had survived and thrived. He’d lived by one of his lyrics quite literally for years: If you feel like you're going to crash, then accelerate more.

He’d put his foot on the gas, pressing down and down, and he’d kept going. It had been so fast, almost too fast, but he’d continued to do it. And then BTS was flying. Taken off in a way he’d never been able to anticipate.

He was so fucking glad that he’d kept going.

Yoongi pulled the sleeve of his oversized T-shirt back, freeing his whole arm and most of his shoulder. Together with the tattoo artist he decided on the placement. The stencil was pressed into his skin.  

When Yoongi turned his head and moved his shoulder forward, he could see it himself. It looked quite small on the wide expanse of his skin, but it matched the members’ tattoos in size. All of them had decided that the design and placement could vary, but they had to be roughly the same size.

Something small but impactful.

He stepped in front of the mirror to take a better look. It was strange to watch his shoulder and see how the tattoo would fit against his skin. He knew he was just staring at it, but the tattoo artist seemed content to give him space to just take it all in.

“I like it,” Yoongi said eventually.

“First tattoo?” the tattoo artist asked, and readied the station for Yoongi to sit down.

“Yeah, and probably only,” Yoongi answered honestly.

He didn’t quite foresee that he’d want a whole bunch like Jungkook, or even Jimin who had a few select pieces scattered across his body. Yoongi could appreciate that art and he thought that the two of them picked stuff that suited their bodies and style, but it wasn’t really for him.

He was too perfectionistic and indecisive to decide on anything to be inked into his skin forever. Except for this. Because this choice of tattoo was not just his. It was theirs. And they were in this together.

They had withstood so, so much. The road to debut, how they struggled to make an impact as rookies, how they started to get attention only to experience backlash from their own industry, how they had been catapulted into a form of stardom that no group before them had done, how they had almost disbanded because it was all too much. They’d not had seniors to guide them, or an experience company to back them up. It had all been figured out along the way, paving the way, and it had nearly fractured them more than once.

But they had clung onto each other. The one source of stability in everything going on was the love and respect they had for each other. They all continued to give it their all, and if even just one of them had given up, Yoongi wasn’t sure they would have made it today.

They were seven. They had always been meant to be seven. He was proud to wear the mark of the seven of them on his skin.

It was a familiar practice to breathe through the pain as a needle touched his shoulder. It was something else to feel the buzzing of the tattoo machine and the small little pinches, but he was surprised that it didn’t really hurt that much.

Maybe his shoulder had just gone a bit numb. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. It was a small price to pay. These days it was mostly pain free, if he kept up with his exercises, and he had recovered a majority of his movement too.

It was easy to zone out to the steady sound of the tattoo gun. Sink into the feeling of it. He was surprised when the gun was lifted off his skin, and the buzzing stopped. It felt like no time had passed at all.

“Done?” he asked, almost a bit baffled.

“Yes,” the tattoo artist confirmed, and he sounded slightly amused. “It’s only a little one.”

Yoongi huffed out a laugh. Yeah. He’d known that. But it was something else to feel it on his skin.

He twisted his shoulder forward to look at the tattoo. His new tattoo. It looked good. The skin was a bit raised and red under the black lines but it looked nice already. Yoongi got the tattoo artist to help him snap a photo to the group chat before it was covered up.

He was given extensive instructions on how to take care of it, and he promised to follow them. When he’d booked the appointment, Yoongi knew that HYBE had the tattoo artist sign an NDA or something to make sure that he couldn’t share any information about the tattoo. He wasn’t worried about it leaking.

“Thank you,” Yoongi told the tattoo artist, turning his shoulder to look at the tattoo once more.

It felt right that he had it now. He’d not felt pressured at the start when they’d decided on this, but now that he was the last one to get it done, the rest of the boys had teased him quite fiercely. It had been deserved.

It was the reason that he sent the photo to the group chat before he even walked out of the studio. Their group chat could either be several hundred messages a day to crickets for weeks at a time. But ever since they didn’t have as many group activities right now, it seemed that most of them made an effort to use it more.

Yoongi knew that he did. It was strange not to see each other most days. He missed the members and while texting didn’t really solve that ache, it did soothe it a little.

It would take a couple of days before all of them had reacted, with Jungkook being the last, but their reactions were very similar. They were excited, and happy and also still teasing Yoongi for dragging his feet so much.

Whenever he ran into the members in the coming months, all of them would ask to see his tattoo in the flesh. They all found it hilarious that he didn’t want to reveal it to ARMY and that there seemed to be a conspiracy that he’d gotten the tattoo on his butt.

He got asked about it every time he went live, but he kept elegantly dodging the questions. He wanted the reveal to be something special, and until then he was having quite a lot of fun with AMRY making a big deal of his tattoo. He promised himself that he’d at least show it before he enlisted, so they wouldn’t have to wait for while he went away. A bit of a parting gift.

He'd been working on the D-DAY ever since he finished up D-2, and he’d been so excited to finally get it out there. He was very proud of the songs, and he worked hard for all of the promotions and videos that he did along with the launch.

The music video for AMYGDALA had been particularly hard, diving into a trauma that he’d never really shown so openly. He’d sat down with Lumpens and told him what he wanted to achieve. The storytelling had come together beautifully and he loved that he had something so visual to accompany his music.

It had been hell to shoot, digging into emotions that he normally left be in the past behind him where they belonged. But it was almost cathartic to go through this. To capture it, so he could put it behind him. It was how writing the song had felt too.

All the while he shot it, he thought of the tattoo under his shirt, the mark that he and BTS had made it. He’d been healing, he’d been putting himself together. The door was still out of reach, but he didn’t stop fighting. He would never stop accelerating and fighting.

It was an insane idea to do a solo tour, but the other boys and HYBE had supported him. He’d been blown away by the support from ARMY, and how the tickets had been ripped away just as if it was a BTS concert. He knew he had a big legacy to carry all on his own and he worked his butt off for it.

He poured his heart and soul into the tour and up on stage every night, he sang from Agust D, D-2, D-DAY as well as BTS’s catalogue. The setlist and performance was carefully crafted and ARMY loved it.

They loved it so much that he was given a second chance to have tour dates in Seoul. Three more days. The finale. Six weeks after the tour was meant to end, he got a second chance to go again. And if he’d placed the tour dates so that Hoseok and Seokjin could take their leave and attend it, and so that Jungkook, Jimin and Namjoon could join him on stage, then that was just his business.

Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook had been in the audience cheering him on the original final date, and Seokjin, Hoseok and Namjoon were in the audience on the new final date. All of his boys had come to see him, and he even got to pull some of them up on stage with him.

At every concert, ARMYs chanted their full fan chant as he geared up to play Life Goes On, the song that was originally meant to be their goodbye for now before they’d started to enlist. Plans had changed, but now Yoongi could play it before he had to go himself.

Life worked out funny sometimes.

He’d prepared a few special things for that night. The last final tour date. He had promised himself not to get overwhelmed with emotions, but he should have guessed that it was inevitable. Crying had been unfortunate, but ARMYs’ voices had come surrounded him, helping carry him through the songs. Seeing their faces and hearing their voices was why he was an artist, so it felt only fitting.

He loved creating music, but it would never have felt complete without getting to come out onto stage and share it. Music was meant to be played out loud and shared.

While he was rushing to get changed for the encore, Namjoon, Seokjin and Hoseok appeared backstage. Yoongi had been surprised to see them since they were meant to leave the concert early to get out safely, but instead they’d come to see him. To pull him into a hug after his tears on stage.

He’d protested, telling them to get off and just leave, but he’d still melted into the embraces and held on too tightly. They’d almost made him cry again. These men that he’d shared his life with could move past his barriers in a way no one else could.

During the encore, he finally revealed his tattoo. He played it off like it wasn’t a big thing, like he hadn’t been hiding the tattoo for several months and seen ARMY all spiral out trying to guess where it might be.

He wondered how many of them had figured out that he’d put it right on the shoulder that had almost cost him this life. He wore a smug smile as he pulled his jacket off to show it. The screams echoed inside of his skull, as he put the jacket back on and got on with the show.

He knew the members would tease him for how dramatic he was being with the reveal, but it felt right. Standing in front of ARMY. The 7 was for BTS, but they also wouldn’t have been BTS without ARMY. So, it felt right to show it here in Seoul, the city that had become his home, while knowing the concert was also being streamed to thousands more who couldn’t be with him physically but who was with him in spirit.

He was fighting back emotions as he walked around waving goodbye for the final time. The last time he’d stand on the stage before his enlistment. He hadn’t said it, but he didn’t need to. His time was coming soon, but he was ready now.

And he would come back. They would come back. He truly believed that the next time he’d stand on the stage in Seoul, it would be with all of his members. They’d be a little older, but that would be all. He trusted in the power of 7.

He ended with the white door. The one he had never managed to make it through in the AMYGDALA video. His shoulder ached, like it always did after a long concert, but Yoongi felt too elated to mind it. He reached for the handle, opened the door and walked through.

Turning around, he waved goodbye to ARMY, proud to have reached this part of his life. He closed the door, and he was rushed back to HYBE.

He did a quick Weverse live to check in with ARMY, and officially mark the end of the tour, and then he would go have dinner and drinks with his boys. He’d listen to their teasing and feel their love.

Maybe they’d take a photo of their matching tattoos now that his wasn’t secret anymore.

Even in this period of uncertainty where they would all be split up for more than a year, he truly believed in the message he’d left up on the screen at the concert.

As long as he had BTS, the future was going to be okay.

#bts fandom #bts fanfction #bts fic #bts fanfic #my stories #pedia

[daydreamingleclerc]

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#i’m going to **** ****** 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

two plus two is four - mick schumacher

summary: in which, your boyfriend finds out you’re pregnant after you play a game of pregnancy test roulette.

warnings: a little bit of smut midway through it nothing too graphic, swearing, babies, confusion, uncles charles, carlos, este and seb!

requested: no

notes: yes... i’ve written yet another self indulgent pregnancy fic... anyway....

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892 notes - Posted September 15, 2022

#4

dirty little lover - mason mount

summary: in which, mason meets your parents, and the good boy persona disappears once you’re alone in the bedroom.

warnings: dom!mason, sub!reader, choking, oral (m, f), spitting, cum play, unprotected sex, pet names (sir, kitten, daddy), vulgar language, breeding kink, i think that’s it.

thank you @trickyblues for the idea ily long time &lt;3

requests are closed. this is a long one so i apologise but also i don’t <3 enjoy whores xx

“you don’t need to be so nervous, mason,” you smiled at him when he switched off the engine of his lamborghini, a flicker of panic in his eyes, “they’re just my parents.”

“they’re not just your parents,” he rubbed his palms against the grain of his jeans, “they’re your parents.”

a knot formed between your eyebrows at his words, and you watched as he giggled at your facial expression, “mason, that makes no sense.”

“no it does,” he frowned, “what i mean is they’re your parents, as in, the parents of the girl i love, i haven’t done this in so long, and i’m just worried they’ll-”

you cut him off, lips pressing against his softly to calm his nerves. your fingers rested on his stubbly cheek, tracing the hair prickling at your fingertips, and his hand cascaded through your hair, pulling you in closer by the back of the neck. his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, and when you pulled his bottom lip between your teeth, you both moaned.

“you’d better be careful,” he pulled away and raised an eyebrow, “i know we’re staying here tonight but don’t think i won’t punish you later.”

“sounds tempting,” you ignored his statement, running your fingers around the snatch of his jawline, kissing his lips, “do you not think we should try it out?”

“do we have to go inside? can’t we just stay like this?”

he ignored you now, rolling his eyes and jabbing your rib cage. your fingertips tickled at the back of his neck, stroking against the short, thin hairs at its nape. over his shoulder, you could see your parents — or rather, your dad — poking his head through the blinds. at first, it was just to get a look at mason’s car, but then you caught his raised eyebrow and you abruptly glanced back at your boyfriend.

“okay, don’t wanna freak you out,” you pressed your forehead against his, “but my dad just watched us make out through the window.”

mason’s face dropped, and his forehead slid to the crook in your neck and he fumbled with his keys in his pocket, the doors unlocking on either side of you. “fuck sake, now he definitely hates me.”

“he hasn’t even met you yet,” you jabbed your boyfriends ribcage and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “cut the man some slack, mason.”

your fingers interlocked as he trailed slightly behind you, a bouquet of flowers in his hands for your mum, and a bottle of whiskey for your dad in a bag looped through his fingers. “he’s gonna make you drink that to make up for it, though.” you hummed, knocking on the door softly.

“fine by me,” he kissed your temple, and as the door handle moved, he shifted on his feet. your parents stood at the door, soft smiles on their faces.

“sorry, we’re a bit late,” you smiled, leaning towards them immediately and leaning in for a hug, mason’s fingers still looped through yours, “there was a crash on the motorway.”

“is crash on the motorway the secret meaning of snogging in the car?” your dad raised an eyebrow, his eyes darting between you and mason. your boyfriend’s cheeks went bright red, but your dad couldn’t help it when a laugh fell from his lips.

“you’re not funny, dad,” you jabbed your dad’s bicep, “but yeah, it can be that too i suppose.”

your dad smirked, and mason’s cheeks blushed as he tried to keep his composure and fight off every instinct to not bury his head in your neck. “i hope you don’t mind, but these are for you,” mason’s arm outstretched and he handed your parents their gifts, “Y/N told me they were your favourite flowers, and she also told me your favourite whiskey.”

your mum took the flowers in her hands, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to say thank you, while your dad shook his hand and made a joke that mason wouldn’t be able to handle the alcohols strength.

“c’mon, mase, let’s put our stuff upstairs, yeah?”

“keep the door open, lovebirds,” your dad laughed, watching the pair of you as you walked up the stairs. “slim chance of that happening, eh?”

* “what’s this?”

“that?” you walked over to mason, who was making his way through your belongings on the shelf. he nodded, an arm snaking around your waist and pulling you in close, “you won’t believe me if i tell you.”

“try me.”

“when i was seven i won in a national spelling bee, that’s the evidence to prove it.”

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917 notes - Posted May 12, 2022

#3

pretty little short skirt - mick schumacher

summary: in which, on a river walk you bump into someone you’ve never seen taking the route before, and after an exchange of numbers things get dramatically interesting.

warnings: protected sex, oral (m&f), dirty talk, choking, spitting, pet names, praise kink. trigger warning for a mention of death of an animal at the beginning.

requested: no.

notes: this is based on a dream i had about mick & thanks to my beloved @libraryofloveletters for bringing it to life in true dirty smut format (anj i love you)

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938 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

#2

quiet - charles leclerc

summary: in which, you and charles spend some alone time together while away with the boys.

warnings: switch!charles, switch!reader, outdoor sex, unprotected sex, thigh riding, language, choking, praise kink, nipple stimulation, i think that’s it. hasn’t been proofread.

requested: no

notes: this is kinda inspired by the scene in conversations with friends when bobbi goes skinny dipping & leaves frances and nick alone by the lake, only this isn’t a PG version, plus, charles is a complete babygirl in swim shorts and nobody can escape it &lt;3

requests are open, please see who i write for here and my masterlist here.

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1,160 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

kinktober #13 - charles leclerc

charles’ alarm clock is non-existent when he’s buried inside of you.

prompts: sleepy sex, cockwarming

warnings: unprotected sex, cockwarming, swearing, male masturbation (kinda?), this is exceptionally short so i do apologise.

“charles, baby?” you whispered, attempting to sound okay despite your irritated mood, “can you stop wriggling? i’m trying to sleep.”

charles groaned, and you thought he was asleep. you nudged him with your elbow in what felt like the chest, and he groaned again. “stop hogging the duvet, then,” you made a point by dropping your head heavily on your pillow. charles groaned again. “if you’re gonna continue to groan you can go and sleep — oh.”

you turned around, expecting to see charles sleeping but instead you saw something unexpected; charles with his hand at the base of his dick. he looked sleepy, so it was evident that he hadn’t been in that position very long.

“i need to feel you,” he hummed. you frowned, glancing across at the clock on the wall; 05:03, “i don’t wanna fuck you, i…” he took a breath, “i wanna try something new.”

“what’s that, baby?” you cooed, a hand loosely wrapped around his naked torso and your lips on his jaw.

“turn around and get back in your previous position,” he said, and you did as he asked. he pushed back the duvet and readjusted the position of your legs, and when he pushed himself inside of you, you gasped. “does this feel okay?”

“mhm,” you nodded, a shiver running up your spine at the feeling of his dick inside you and his hand on your tummy. he kissed your jaw.

“go back to sleep, amor, let’s just stay like this for a bit, okay?”

the feeling was surreal, and you weren’t sure how you’d gone almost two years dating charles and not ever tried this. it was so intimate without being intrusive, and you trusted him enough to stay like that forever.

“mhm,” you nodded, even though you weren’t sure you could go back to sleep with him buried to the hilt inside of you. “love you.”

“love you too, amor.”

you woke up several hours later to the incessant sound of charles’ alarm clock telling him he had to go to the gym. when you moved though, you felt him still inside you, rocking back and forth ever so gently. he was trying to coax you out of sleep.

“hi.” you yawned, blushing when he kissed at your neck.

“morning beautiful,” his hand draped around your tummy, “still need you.”

“mhm,” you replied, nodding, “need you too.”

he held you in place, his lips grazing across your neck and as he gave you short, light thrusts you gripped at the bedsheet, trying to keep quiet.

one of his hands grabbed at your thigh and he slung it over his waist, so you were now open wider for him; the both of you hot, panting and sleepy.

“fucking hell,” he muttered.

“mhm, i know,” your hand flew down to your clit while the one that was gripping the sheets reached around to charles’ hair, “feels so good, charles. don’t stop baby, please.”

“i won’t,” he mumbled into your neck, his dick twitching and throbbing inside of you. he’d been waiting for this moment all night, “cant promise i’ll last much longer.”

“that’s okay baby,” you cooed, leaning round to press a kiss to his cheek, “cum inside me, charles, don’t pull out.”

his dick twitched again, and your walls fluttered when you began to speed your movement of your fingers. “gonna cum any minute,” charles breathed, his hips ragged and his breathing short and staccato.

true to his word, within a minute, charles’ hips stuttered and he froze inside of you; his dick twitched once more and hot bursts of cum seeped into you. the sensation triggered your own orgasm, and you came around his dick with a breathy moan.

his alarm clock buzzed once more and you knew he had to get up, or else his trainer would end up banging down his front door.

“i love you,” he hummed, nuzzling back into your neck.

“i know, i love you too,” you kissed his head, “but you really should go to the gym because it’s almost seven thirty.”

1,664 notes - Posted November 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#mental illness #tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #false

[poohsources]

GOOD EVENING EVERYBODY !  hope you’re doing well, and are taking care of yourselves.  i wanna start a new category on this blog, called ‘pooh’s (ir)regular updates’ where i’m just gonna give a quick overview over what’s currently going on behind the scenes here.

first off, i'm currently in the process of going through every single post i’ve ever made to update it in terms of tags, deleting the double spaces i’ve used previously, correcting a few words / grammatical errors i’ve noticed and so on.  it’s all part of a really small overhaul here to make everything more coherent and more easier for you to find.  as such, i’ve added new tags such as ‘type: meme’ or ‘type: guide’ ( and other that are designed in the same vein ) so you can just put them into the search bar on this blog to find what you’re looking for.  additionally, if you type in ‘template: single muse’ or ‘template: multimuse’ you can now find the carrd or doc templates you need for your blog type a lot easier.

secondly, the community blog pack is coming together really nicely in my opinion. i’ve already finished the psd and majority of the graphic templates ( also threw in post dividers and some pre-made dash icons ) and i’m now trying to make a fitting doc ― well, docs, since i’ve decided to make a single muse and a multimuse version.  i think i’ll be done with those some time next week so keep your eyes open for that.

and last update for the day, i’m finally sitting down to work on a carrd for myself as i’m hoping to open up commissions before the end of the month.  i’ve recently lost my job and while i’m already looking for a new one, i’ll take this as an opportunity to earn a little extra cash.  i promise i’ll keep you updated on that one.

well, that concludes today’s update.  i hope you’ll have a nice rest of the day and i’ll talk to you again very soon.  love you all! :)

#pooh speaks. #pooh's (ir)regular updates.

[saratogaroadwrites]

Per Aspera Ad Astra (11/18)

Per Aspera Ad Astra | saratogaroad | banner art credit Rating: T Wordcount: 183k Characters: John 117, Cortana, Thomas Lasky, Sarah Palmer, Fireteam Osiris, The Warden Eternal, The Didact, The Librarian, ensemble of other Halo characters Relationships: John-117 & Cortana Other Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, fix-it, Male/Female Friendship, Canon-Typical Violence Warnings:  War imagery, seizures, graphic description of injury

Snatched from the jaws of death, Cortana and John find themselves adrift in a galaxy that has long since moved on. As they attempt to find their place in this strange new world, they find that the fight is not as over as they thought. Chasing a signal across the galaxy in desperate hope, they come to a stark conclusion: the Reclamation has begun, and they are helpless to stop it.

=

There was no Medbay for a wounded AI. No doctors standing by with life-saving treatments or quick fixes, no surgery to repair what had been broken and no bandages for wounds that didn't physically exist. There was only waiting, hoping, and sitting uselessly as John could do little more than either.

For all his training, for all his skills, he was a weapon. He wasn't a medic, he wasn't an engineer, he wasn't trained in search and rescue. The best he could do for any of Meridian's survivors was stay out of the way and let them be tended to first. All he'd wanted was a ride back up Infinity so the techs could tend to Cortana, and he'd gotten that. He could wait.

He would wait. Locke had taken one look at him, broken armor and broken partner, and all but shoved him on the Pelican with the most critically wounded patients. The medics had been too busy saving lives to care, though he'd done the best he could to make himself as small as possible in a corner of a troop bay, watching them try to save a man from bleeding out on the floor. Failure had set its teeth in him then and hadn't stopped shaking since. This was his fault. If he'd been able to stop the Didact the first time none of this would have happened. Vestige II would still be there, the crew of the River Bend would still be alive, and Meridian wouldn't be a mass grave for her people.

Cortana wouldn't be lying lifelessly on a metal table in a borrowed S-Deck tech lab like some forgotten corpse in a morgue. She'd be safe.

This was on him.

"Yeesh, Cor wasn't kidding about being able to hear you think at five klicks." Roland's voice came from the podium beside the table. John lifted his head slowly; Roland looked nearly as exhausted as John himself, his color faded to storm cloud gray with only the barest hint of gold in his core. His jacket and flight cap were missing, his hair standing in sweaty spikes. His eyes were still kind as he said, "This wasn't your fault, Chief."

It was. But he was in no mood to get into that discussion, not even with Cortana herself, and so he looked away. His techsuit creaked, still leaking silicates from the crevices. They'd had to pry him out of his armor; it had taken a blowtorch and a good fifteen minutes to free him from the helmet alone, the rest a complete wash from the glass that had torn through it. They'd tried to insist he go to Medical, get himself checked out, but he refused to leave her alone. Not while she was so vulnerable. Roland sighed quietly.

"Her self-repair system is entirely online," He said, "And it's giving an ETA of sometime in the next two hours. She's gonna be fine."

"Hm."

Roland made a frustrated noise and tried again. "Okay, listen, we both know how stubborn Cor is. She'll be fine—hell, she's run with you for months! If that didn't make her stubborn enough to survive anything, nothing will."

One of these days you're gonna land on somethin' as stubborn as you are! And I don't do bits and pieces.

No. He had faith in her. She'd survived the Gravemind, Rampancy, the Didact. She'd survive this. His grip on his hands tightened.

"I know."

"It doesn't sound like you know…" Roland shook his head, stopping as the door to the lab slid open. John jerked his head up and was on his feet in an instant as Captain Lasky stepped into the room. There was a mug of still steaming coffee in one hand and he raised the other.

"At ease, Chief," He said, stepping in so the door would slide shut, "I'm just here to check in. You can relax."

"Sir." As if he could relax while she was lying there, so still and so cold. He sat back down on the edge of the table. Captain Lasky looked her up and down with the same care as when he looked over any other wounded soldier, the same concern pulling at the edges of his expression, before he looked to the Chief and held out the cup. Dark and rich, he could smell the bitter grinds from here. Too bitter for his tastes, and his stomach roiled at the thought of taking in anything right now. He still took the mug, the warmth seeping past his techsuit. Roland snapped out a salute and vanished in a flash, leaving them alone. "How are things on Meridian?"

"Not good." Lasky said with a sigh, pulling the rolling desk chair over. He dropped into it and scrubbed a hand over his head. John picked out the dark circles beneath his eyes, the deepened wrinkles on his brow. Things hadn't gotten any easier since they'd left for Vestige. "Last census put their population at just under fifty two hundred. We've accounted for forty-five hundred so far, and…" He sighed heavily. "We're looking at a ninety percent fatality rate. Odds are it won't go much lower."

A ten percent survival rate. It was nine percent higher than most planet-level engagements with the Covenant had been but it was still so low! His grip on the mug tightened, tin creaking beneath his fingers. He forced himself to relax before he punched a hole through it.

"How're you holding up?" Lasky asked, the sudden softness in his voice startling John into looking up. He smiled tiredly. "…It's been a long time since anyone's asked you that, hasn't it?"

John looked at Cortana. Just her, he thought. Halsey had asked once, six months ago, but since then…status requests, medical reports…no one had asked how he was doing, only how to keep their weapon in working order. And he was. A weapon. A weapon for humanity to fire against the threats it faced, but. He'd missed. He'd failed. He swallowed hard, sour bile crawling up his throat.

"Fine, sir."

"Would she buy that?"

John closed his eyes. "No." But then, she knew him better than anyone else. Shifting the mug to one hand he reached over, cautiously laying his hand on top of hers. She didn't respond, didn't twitch. Hopefully she was having good dreams. He looked back to the Captain, a cold hand squeezing his heart at the soft look on Lasky's face. "It's nothing."

For a few seconds, Lasky said nothing. Then he took a slow breath and leaned in, hands clasped between his knees. "Chief, what happened down there—it's not your fault. Either of you. You know that, right?"

"Our orders were to eliminate the threat. We failed."

"You weren't prepared—" He held up a hand as John opened his mouth, stalling any protest, "—Not for a threat on that level. You knew it was possible the Didact would be there, but coming face to face with him is a different story. You shouldn't have had to go up against him without us. I'm sorry."

He didn't know what to say to that. What could he say to that? A lump swelled in his throat, refusing to go back down. Lasky watched him sympathetically, leaning back in his borrowed chair.

"No one's ever told you that either, have they."

It wasn't a question this time, but they both already knew the answer and looked to Cortana. She slumbered on, unaware of the struggle for words going on in John's mind. She'd have already known what to say to calm the Captain's concerns, make him drop the subject that sat so heavily between them with a lightened conscience. John didn't even know where to start. All he had was a planet he'd failed to save, a partner he'd failed to protect, and a threat he'd failed to eliminate.

Maybe there had been some truth to Captain Del Rio's comments about an aging Spartan after all. He shook off the thought and looked back to Captain Lasky.

"Our duty as soldiers is to protect humanity, whatever the cost. We don't need apologies, sir."

Lasky blinked, staring at him. He'd said the wrong thing, John realized, or at least something Lasky hadn't expected to hear. He stared for a few more seconds and then slowly shook his head.

"You say that like soldiers and humanity are two different things. Soldiers aren't machines—you're not a machine, Chief," He said, "You're as human as everyone else on this ship."

Before this is all over, promise me you'll figure out which one of us is the machine.

Was he? Where was the line drawn between machine and not? What made someone human? Philosophy had never been his favorite subject. He knew the physical definition, where the line was drawn between organic and inorganic, but human? He still hadn't figured that part out yet. He wasn't sure he ever could. Lasky's expression grew soft and sympathetic. John could see no pity, at least, which was good. He didn't know how to deal with pity.

The Captain rubbed the back of his neck, struggling to find the words. Silence fell over the lab for a few long, tense seconds. John stared into his rapidly cooling coffee, used to the quiet but not to this. He wished Cortana was awake to know what to say.

"You not knowing that is our fault, too," Lasky said after nearly a minute had passed. John looked up to meet his gaze as he continued, "We relied on you, on the Spartans, to win our battles for so long that no one ever bothered to ask how it was affecting you. We still haven't. You were out there fighting aliens that career soldiers couldn't take down and you were no older than an academy student. How much did humanity ask of you without thinking about how it would affect you?"

He couldn't have this discussion. "Sir—"

"No." The Captain said, "I know. It's classified. And I don't mean to bring up bad memories." He took a deep breath and leaned over once again, even though this meant he had to look up to hold John's eyes. "I'm saying that if you ever need to talk, my door is open. I can deal in hypotheticals with the best of them."

He'd never take that offer. Not only for the redactions to his file, but because he couldn't. Being a Spartan was all he knew. Without it, without him and his siblings, there would be no humanity. He'd long since accepted that. It was just his life. How could he even begin to explain that normality when no one else could understand it? It would be like asking the Captain to explain the normality of his own life. There were things you just…knew. Still, the offer came from a place of kindness. He could be grateful for that.

"Thank you, sir."

Lasky nodded. With a soft groan he levered himself out of the borrowed chair.

"I need to get back to the bridge. When she wakes up, tell her I strongly suggest she stop scaring you." A wry smile crossed his face, one hand coming up to gesture around his temples. "You're already going gray."

A tiny bubble of amusement popped against the chill in John's chest. With one last look over at Cortana, the Captain headed out of the room. Silence returned, Roland not bothering to come back, and John was left alone with his thoughts. He stared into the still surface of the coffee, watching the reflection of the overhead light. He couldn't help Cortana, not with this, not now, and so he forced his thoughts elsewhere.

There was no doubt in his mind that they would face the Didact again. When they did, how would they stop him? He was organic, durable, well trained and skilled. He had thousands of years of combat experience and the skill to use that experience, along with the annoying gravimetric disturbance generator. So long as that was active, getting in close wouldn't be a viable option.

His entire head ached at the thought. He resisted the urge to rub his temples, turning over a few possible ideas. Sticking to long range would be best. Line up a few snipers or bombard him with missiles. One of them would leave a body to be sure of, the other would turn him into a smear in the crater. Not for the first time he found himself wishing his team was here. Linda would have been able to take his head at five klicks and then they could blow him up. It would be the easiest option, though John would have preferred to get in close and break the Forerunner's neck himself.

What the Didact had done to Earth, to Vestige II, to Meridian, to any other human colonies he'd awoken Guardians on made him a target. What he'd nearly done to Cortana made it personal. He could still remember the flash of light as the plinth he had just removed her chip from had been blasted into nothing more than ash and embers. Half a second, less than half a second, and she wouldn't—

With a forceful exhale he wrestled the thought back down. It was over and done. What mattered now was taking the Didact down in the fastest, cleanest manner possible. Bornstellar's presence shifted in the back of his mind, pushing forth another flash of memory: watching armor plating fold back up into the distribution node pressed to the spinal column. Power and commands to the armor flowed through there. Strike that and the armor would have to reset itself, giving them a precious second in which to act. He swallowed hard around a suddenly dry mouth.

Thank you, he thought, trying to reach out. Bornstellar reached out in return, presence shifting to extend a proverbial hand, but the resulting stab of pain through John's skull made him close his eyes. By the time the spike had faded away, Bornstellar had retreated, leaving him alone in his mind again. He had no time to dwell on it before a soft blue light lit the room, the faintest of electrical hums whirring to life. Quick as a flash John whipped around, coffee splashing as he dropped the tin cup. He didn't care about that; his focus was on Cortana, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Cortana?"

She whimpered softly. She was awake! Relief tried to sink into his bones but he didn't let it, not yet. Not until he was sure she was alright. He leaned over her, his larger frame blocking the light. Sensing his covering darkness she cracked open one eye, then the other. Color bled up her throat, tiny strands of light starting their course up and down her body with it. Her systems were rebooting and she was awake. The cold grip around his heart began to let go.

"Hey."

"Hey," She croaked, squinting at him. "You look as bad as I feel." She lifted a trembling hand to his face, gently laying it along his cheek. The pads of her fingers slid across the myriad of small cuts from his shattered visor; her warmth was gone, but he leaned into her touch all the same. "How does that work?"

"Rough day." He looked down at her softly, finally allowing the relief to flow through him. It would have made his limbs shake if he'd left it, but his focus was entirely on her. She'd closed her eyes again, expression pinched. Carefully, cautiously, he shifted his weight onto one arm, maneuvering the other to cradle her head in his palm. She sighed and began to relax. "Better?"

"Mm-hmm. Did we get the plate from that Mammoth that rammed me?"

"No," He said, grateful that she was aware enough to kid around. "But I got a look at the driver. We'll catch up with him sooner or later."

"Good. I've got some stern words for him when we do." A smile flickered across her face, then vanished as she asked, "How long was I out?"

"Two hours." Two long, tired hours. He watched as her color continued to return, the gray slowly being replaced by blue. The buzz beneath her skin was coming back, too. Now that he could see for himself that she would be alright, he let the exhaustion that had been dogging him settle across his back; his head and shoulders began to complain about what they'd been through, but he ignored them with the ease of long practice. She needed him more. "Are you." No. No, that wasn't right. He swallowed, tried again. "How are you?"

"Sore. I wasn't kidding about that Mammoth." She snorted darkly. "I'm guessing Meridian's no better."

A ten percent survival rate. "No. We lost it. The Guardian got away, too."

"Not entirely," She said, opening her eyes. Tired as she seemed, determination was what furrowed her brow this time. "Help me up."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I can finish repairs just as easily sitting up as laying down. Besides, we don't have time for me to be lazy." She gathered herself, hands coming down on either side. He slipped his arm beneath her shoulders as she began to push, helping her to sit up. She swayed and would have fallen back down if not for his arm around her, which made him lift an eyebrow. She grumbled at him. "Don't give me that look. You don't have a monopoly on going against medical advice." Her eyes darted to the largest cut on his forehead. "Did you even get any?"

"It's nothing," He said, and when she raised an unconvinced eyebrow he shrugged his better shoulder. "Head wounds always bleed a lot."

"Chief…" She reached up again, gently resting her fingers on the side of his face. He hadn't even taken a moment to wash off the dried blood; it cracked beneath her touch, flaking away. "There's a first aid kit in here somewhere. Do me a favor and go get it?"

There was no need for that. He was fine. "Cortana…"

"Chief." She lifted the other eyebrow. "We're not behind enemy lines any more. You can take five minutes and patch yourself up before anything else goes sideways."

Could he? He wasn't sure. But he didn't want her to worry, so he levered himself up off the table. The kit was easy enough to find, being that it was bolted to the wall and a glaring red against the sterile white and pale gray of the lab walls. It came loose with a tug, the lid popping open. Prepackaged dressings and alcohol wipes shifted in their compartments, sliding back and forth. He set it on the table, unsure where to start. Medics cleaned wounds before dressing them. Wipe, then bandage? What kind did he need? He huffed quietly to himself; things were easier with biofoam…

"Here," Cortana took pity on him, taking an alcohol wipe from the kit. "Let me?"

He didn't say anything. He simply sat back down where she could reach, letting her take his head into one gentle hand. The cleansing solution soaked into the wipe stung the thin cuts as she carefully wiped away the dry blood and cleaned the wounds with a light touch, careful not to cause any more damage. She was always taking care of him even when it cost her. The memory of her lifeless in his arms flashed across his mind's eye before he could push it back. If they faced another Guardian, would that happen again? He couldn't let it. Letting her fight her own battles was one thing, but sending her into that kind of danger was another. If they went after another one, she'd have to stay behind.

Telling her that was going to be a mess. He glanced sidelong at her and found her brow furrowed, her eyes distant. It wasn't just concentration on patching him up that kept her from speaking. He knew that look. She was thinking too hard again. He set his concerns aside for the moment.

"You're not thinking about what the Didact said, are you?" Obviously she was. The threat of the Halos being fired was on his mind, too, but everything else… "He was just trying to get to you."

"He didn't say anything I hadn't already thought of myself, Chief." She set down the used wipe and rummaged through the kit. "And he wasn't wrong. My architecture has changed—half of my code is Forerunner, not human. It's the only reason I can access the Domain, but apparently…" She shook her head. "Apparently I'm not Forerunner enough to be immune to their tech, or UNSC enough to be who I was before. To tell you the truth—" She stopped, took a breath, continued in a smaller voice, "To tell you the truth, I don't know who I am anymore."

"You're—"

"Still me. I know." Another smile flickered across her face, there and gone as she plucked a butterfly bandage out of the kit. "And I appreciate your faith in me, but who is that? Who am I? If you believe the Librarian, I'm supposed to reclaim the lost technology of the Forerunners and use it to aid humanity. If you believe the Warden, I'm supposed to abandon humanity for some greater cause." She snorted quietly, pressing the bandage into place. "I bet the brass would love that."

It didn't matter what the brass thought. All that mattered was her. As much as the last few days had changed things, she hadn't changed. She was still the same person he'd ridden with for weeks, the same person who'd helped to end a war, the same person who joked around with him and treated him like a person, not a weapon. She was his partner. He knew who she was, and deep down so did she. She just needed to be reminded of that.

"It doesn't matter what they want you to do," He said quietly, meeting her gaze. "What you want to do, what you choose to do…that's what makes you who you are."

She stared at him, speechless for a long few seconds, before she huffed out a laugh and tipped forward to rest her head on his shoulder. Wetting his dry lips he carefully tilted his head until his cheek rested against her hair. She was warm again. He closed his eyes.

"One of these days you're going to have to tell me how you always know what to say," She murmured, "Have you been reading philosophy books while I wasn't looking?"

No. He just knew her. "You never know. Maybe five years in cryo turned me into a philosopher."

"Hmm, I wouldn't quit my day job if I were you," She teased lightly, already moving. As much as he wanted to stay like this for a little longer, he knew what was coming next and let her up. "Speaking of, I already know where that Guardian went. Here—" Shifting position she brought her hands up, a twisting motion activating a hologram of the Janus Map. She zoomed out to a full view of the Milky Way, a blinking red dot at the far edge of the Carina-Sagittarius arm. It took a moment for him to realize what he was looking at.

"You tracked the Guardian while you were out?"

"No. I put a tracker in that specific Guardian's code before the Didact left with it," She said with a half smile, "And I still have tabs on the Soldiers that took off with the Didact. All four signals and his are coming from here, which happens to be another Forerunner planet itself." She rolled her eyes. The red blinking stopped, the marker expanding in size so they could read the glyphs around its edge. Builder and Gateway were the easiest for him to read, though Bornstellar had little more than that to offer. "Guess they couldn't stop at just one."

Something told him that the Forerunners had never really learned the meaning of restraint. He could relate. "That's clear across the galaxy. Why build it so far away from the empire?"

"Hiding it, maybe, though I don't know why. All I'm getting is a name: Genesis."

The beginning. A beginning. John frowned. Genesis. Builder—that was a caste in the Forerunner system—and Gateway. A Gateway to where? The Guardians could easily use slipspace so it was hardly like they needed someone to open the door for them. It wasn't a forge to make more, so maybe…he tilted his head, thoughts turning and twisting over and over.

"This glyph," He tapped it, and when she confirmed his translation he added, "Could it mean some sort of portal network hub? A gateway to other places?"

"Maybe," She frowned. "I'm not getting any references in what I have access to. Does your roommate know anything?"

Only that he didn't want to go that far away from the empire's edges. Nothing good came of the edges of space. John had to agree with him on that.

"Nothing useful." He considered the hazy white dot and what he knew about Forerunner technology. Maybe it was another Portal to reach the Ark through? But if that was the case, and the Didact really was after another firing of the Array, why not just go through and be done with it? Why bother bringing any Guardians online at all? It didn't make sense. "We're running blind."

"So it's a Monday," Cortana sighed, closing her fist and dismissing the map. "Nothing new there. We do know where he's going to end up, at least." She glanced up at him and with a snap of her fingers formed a holographic coin between them. "I'll flip you for who has to tell the Captain that little detail."

John almost huffed out a laugh despite himself. He'd had enough of coin flips to last him a lifetime. She knew that and her innocent who, me? smile didn't work at all. He gently jostled her with his shoulder; the coin vanished as she threw her legs over the edge of the table.

"Maybe next time," He said.

"And maybe next time we can—"

She cut herself off as two things happened at once: Roland appeared on the plinth, and Commander Palmer came striding through the door with purpose.

"Oh, good," She said, "You're both up."

"Commander, I was trying to tell you—"

"Ah!" The Commander cut Roland off, prompting him to frown, "No time for chatter. We're needed in the comms room. Double time."

John and Cortana exchanged a glance, unsure. She shrugged up to her ears even as she hopped off the table, half a step behind him. The Commander was already out of the lab and halfway down the hall by the time they caught up. Even he had to jog to keep pace with her.

"Commander," Cortana called out, "What's happening?"

"FLEETCOM called," She called back, "And they want answers."

"They've already seen the footage from your armor-cams," Palmer continued as they approach the comms rooms, "But they want your explanation of things to go with it. All seven admirals will be sitting in on this one."

"All seven?" Cortana's eyes went wide. She'd have understood Lord Hood himself but the rest of the Admiralty Board as well? Oh, this was just perfect! "Do we have five seconds to get dressed or should I just go out like this?"

"You already know where the cameras are," the Commander replied, too busy to be snarky. "Just hang back and let some, I dunno, some hologram avatar handle things. Think you can do that?"

"Of course."

She'd have to. Explaining the new status quo to the seven members of the Admiralty, especially given that one of them was Admiral Osman, was not something she wanted to do while still under repair. The lingering soreness was a pulsating ache through her frame as she nearly had to run to keep pace with the Commander. John had slowed his stride to not pull ahead of her and he offered her an arm when Palmer finally slowed down. She nodded, leaning on him to catch her proverbial breath and reset her few struggling processes. Good grief…one good knock to the head and she was all but useless! Now she understood how humans felt.

"Straighten up," the Commander ordered, "We're going in."

As if this were a battle and not a debriefing. As if they hadn't done thousands of these over the years. Still, Cortana straightened her spin and nodded; John jostled her arm with his and stepped in behind the Commander, using his bulk to hide Cortana from view until she stepped just to the side of the door, out of range of the transmission camera on the right hand wall. Cortana took a second to look around.

The secure comms room was one of six on the Infinity, a decently sized room with a conference holo-table, cameras mounted to the walls for a three hundred and sixty degree view of the holo-platform bolted to the floor, and a view screen mounted above the table. The UNSC eagle rotated on the screen, waiting for Captain Lasky to initiate the connection. He glanced at her, then gestured to the table. Roland waved from his perch, her former avatar standing beside him. She reached out to its process and stepped inside, blinking at the odd sensation of having two sets of inputs again. Huh. Less than a week and she'd gotten used to her own eyes and ears. She wondered what that said about it.

"Connection secure," Roland said. Captain Lasky took a breath, adjusted his lapel, then nodded.

"Open the channel."

Instantly the image on the screen shifted. It went from the blank screensaver common to all UNSC screens to a split screen image of the seven Admirals of FLEETCOM. They weren't all in Sydney, it seemed, and had borrowed or taken secure comms rooms of their own. Her eyes darted from Admiral to Admiral, taking in the frowns on their faces. Admiral Osman's eyes were dark with something she couldn't quite name, but at the end of the display, Lord Hood looked directly at John.

"Master Chief," He greeted pleasantly, "How's the head, son?"

"It's fine, sir," John replied, though they both knew it wasn't. Lord Hood seemed to know as well because he gave a minute shake of his head. John slipped back into the proverbial armor and asked, "Have you all been debriefed, Admirals?"

"We've all seen the footage, Master Chief," Admiral Holt spoke up from the other end of the display, her mousy brown curls wild around her head. She must have run her hands through them a million times. "But I'm afraid none of us have quite made sense of it. The Didact was able to singlehandedly take down our strongest Spartan? How is that even possible?"

"On more solid ground we might have had him, Admiral," Cortana said through her avatar, "But the fact remains that he's a Forerunner with incredible strength and tactical knowledge. In a hand to hand fight, it's highly possible he could handle even a complete Fireteam of Spartan II's."

Admiral Osman's eyes narrowed. Cortana watched her warily; even if the woman hadn't ordered them watched, there was something about that expression that was setting off alarm bells.

"That's a problem for another time," Admiral Veranis said, the graying older man no less sharp for his years. He tapped at a screen in front of him as he said, "I'm afraid our larger concern is what he had to say for himself."

With another tap, a copy of the Chief's helmet-cam footage began to play. Roland flicked his eyes to her, opening a private channel and telling her not to worry. He'd doctored the footage so as to be sure that her physical body wouldn't appear on it. It was the less relevant issue at the moment and she thanked him for it, though she didn't say that aloud. She kept one eye on the replay, core lurching.

"If humanity cannot be contained, they are to be burned from the stars."

"Halo."

"Yes. Stronger means than the Composer have proven necessary. Humanity's destruction will be a kindness they do not deserve."

A grave silence fell over the comms room. Captain Lasky swallowed audibly, holding his chin up by sheer force of will. It was a lot to swallow and she couldn't blame him for needing a moment. She wished they had those moments to spare.

"Is what he's saying possible?" Admiral Veranis asked, a little paler than his dusky olive skin should have normally been. "Can he activate the surviving rings?"

"It's more than possible, Admiral," Cortana said. Her avatar clasped its hands at the small of its back and continued, "Not only is he a Forerunner with more understanding of the required systems than any human alive, but from what I understand the firing system of the entire array was reset during Operation Far Storm." Lord Hood nodded and she grimaced. Damn. That was going to be a problem. She shook it off and said, "That would, in theory, allow it to be keyed to whomever reaches the Control Room first. At this stage it's much more likely to be a when, not an if."

She just wasn't sure when that when would actually be. The Portal from Earth to the Ark was still open, establishing a seemingly permanent link between Earth and the Henry Lamb Research Outpost on the Ark. It would be simple enough for the Didact to sweep in on a Guardian, neutralize Earth's defenses, and then slip through the Portal to accomplish his goal on the other side. They could hardly stop him, after all, so why hadn't he done so? Why was he bothering with all these theatrics and secondary plans? She just wasn't sure.

"Then why is he even bothering with all of this?" Admiral Holt asked, plucking the words right out of Cortana's vocal processor. "If he can so easily destroy human infrastructure and take down our ships, why even bother with taking any of us out? He could simply pop on through and be done with it all!"

"Because it's personal." John said, drawing all eyes to him. "We stopped his plans before by destroying the Composer and wounding him. We humiliated him, so now he's going to do the same to us." He shrugged when everyone but Cortana kept on staring at him. "Psychological tactics."

"He wants to break us." Admiral Osman said, a grudging note of respect entering her voice. "Take us out slowly, make things seem hopeless." She raised an eyebrow. "Can he?"

"Ma'am?"

"Are things hopeless?" She asked, "If he so easily took you down, Master Chief, I can't imagine throwing the rest of the IVs at him will get us any better results."

She had a point. Cortana consulted her files and turned a few plans over. She had basic Forerunner anatomy scans and diagrams in her on-board files. They were made of the same organic materials as humans but were somehow infinitely more durable. They'd tried shooting the Didact, John had obviously stabbed him to no real effect, he'd dodged a nuclear explosion, and had survived slipspace! At this point she was beginning to contemplate the idea of him being immortal somehow, but hell if she knew how.

There had to be some way of putting him down. Maybe dropping him into a star or a black hole? She was tempted…but no. No, it would be simpler to just bombard him with a few dozen missiles. Scorched earth was usually effective.

If they could hit him.

"Not much can withstand a full pod of Archer missiles," She answered for the sake of answering, though she didn't need the look John gave her to know that plan would have to wait. "But I'm afraid reaching him will be the bigger problem, Admiral."

With a snap of her avatar's fingers, she brought up a copy of the Janus map. It was zoomed in on Genesis' location, the little sphere blinking away.

"Before the Guardian left Meridian I was able to implant a tracking code into its software. Considering that the Didact stepped inside of it, both it and he are now here." Before they could ask why she hadn't given them coordinates already, she zoomed the map out and twisted it. Several of the Admirals hissed in alarm. Lord Hood looked to Lasky.

"Captain, has this information been verified?"

"It's been double and triple checked, Admiral," the Captain lied straight to the Admirals without flinching. He knew the stakes. There was no time for their sidestepping the issue and he continued, "Both Roland and the entire team of nav-officers had run the math. All had come to the same conclusion that Cortana had. "The signal is emanating from a planet within the Carina-Sagittarius arm." He pressed his lips together into a thin line. "We have no scans or eyes in the area, human or Covenant."

And there was a difference between flying blind in known territory, and flying blind through the pitch dark unknown of the other half of the galaxy. Admiral Veranis swore in the several languages he was fluent in.

"He's clear across the bloody galaxy! How are we supposed to get after him when he's that far—" He sat back, "We can't possibly send the fleets after him! We have no idea what's out there! For all we know we'd be sending them into a trap."

"So we don't go after him." Admiral Osman chimed in. All eyes snapped to her. "We know what he's planning. I say we fall back and defend Earth. Let the rest of the galaxy fend for itself." She looked down her nose at John and Cortana. "Unless our esteemed colleagues on the Infinity believe that they can take him out for good before then?"

It was a trap question. The Admirals had seen how badly the fight had gone. To say they could handle him was an overstatement. To admit they couldn't…well. She couldn't see that being a good option. Thankfully Lord Hood came to their rescue.

"Admiral Osman has a point," He said, though he eyed her sidelong for some reason or another, "If we can't reach him, we have to focus on defense instead of offense. Captain Lasky, you reported a find of a map of all Forerunner technology on Requiem?" When the Captain nodded he continued, "Send it our way. We'll devote the entire science wing to decoding it and finding the remaining Halo rings. Taking them offline is our top priority."

It wasn't going to work. In order for their pulse to have scrubbed the entire galaxy clean, the rings would have had to have been placed in more than just the Orion arm. Humanity had never expanded past its borders! Even if they could find them, they'd still be charging blindly ahead. To hit that many targets would split the fleet. Earth would be exposed, vulnerable. It might work, but at what cost?

Cortana grit her teeth, her avatar catching John's eye. The corners of his lips twitched downwards, breaking his otherwise stony expression. He knew how this was going to go.

"Admiral," Captain Lasky said, "It took us two years to find Installation 03, and another six months to bring it down for decommission. There have been five colonies destroyed by Guardians already. At that rate we may have days before humanity is unable to fight back. With all due respect, we don't have the time to play it safe any more."

"And what are you suggesting, Captain Lasky," Osman broke in before Lord Hood could say anything. Her fellow Admirals all gave her harsh looks but she didn't flinch. "Attack the Didact head on? Destroy his Guardians before they can knock us out of the sky?" She shook her head. "Installations 03, 04, and 05 are offline, and only Installation 04 was within human controlled space. The rest of the galaxy can handle itself."

"Oh, like you let the Sangheili handle themselves?" Admiral Holt scoffed, "Mind the thin ice you're treading on, Admiral, and mind your tone. We don't have time for petty squabbles." Ignoring how red Osman went she looked to Captain Lasky. "Let's hear it, Captain. What are you suggesting?"

"Ma'am. Roland and the Engineers have fine-tuned our shields. The Infinity can take a hit or two from a Guardian's pulse before she goes down. My suggestion is that you allow us to go after the Didact while the rest of the fleets return to Earth. If we fail, they'll already be in position."

"And we'll be down the strongest ship in the fleet." Lord Hood pointed out. "Captain Lasky, the bravery you and your crew display is to be commended, but that's a risk we can't take. We can't—"

"Then send us alone." The Chief broke in, startling everyone but Cortana. He had no patience for talking heads and he knew the dangers they were facing. That it had taken as long as it had was the real surprise. All the Admirals snapped their attention to him, some eyes wide for him breaking protocol so quickly. "Don't send the Infinity. Whatever's happened between the UNSC and the Sangheili, the Arbiter knows us, and he knows what would happen if the Halos were to fire. Once we inform him of the situation, he'll work with us."

"Covenant technology is also capable of withstanding Forerunner tech by design, due to how they reverse engineered most of their ships from them." Cortana added, grabbing onto hope by her fingernails. She already knew that if they said no, she and John would go AWOL after the Didact anyway. She also knew that that course of action had the highest chance of him ending up dead. If there was any way for them to have even the slimmest amount of back-up… "And according to the map, there is a Guardian on Sanghelios. If we activate it, we can take a Covenant cruiser through the portal after it and slip in unnoticed. I doubt the Didact would appreciate a plasma bombardment anymore than he would a missile pod."

"Just how do you intend to activate the thing?" Admiral Veranis asked, "From what I understand of your reports, this level of Forerunner technology can only be activated by an actual Forerunner! I highly doubt the Didact's going to snap his fingers from wherever the bloody hell he is and let you waltz in his front door."

Well, about that. Cortana's avatar shook its head.

"I still had half a hand in the code, Admiral," She said, "Not to bore you with the details, but if we can get there before the Didact does activate this one, I can forge an override and force it to go…wherever it is they're landing." She pressed her lips together. "It won't do away with the destruction, though."

"And the Arbiter's just going to let that happen? Where exactly is the bloody thing?"

"Here." With a snap of her fingers she shifted the data from the Janus map to a more local copy. The UNSC's scans of Sanghelios appeared on the holo-table, a rotating city on display. "As far as we've been able to parse it's in the ocean just below Sunaion, a pre-Covenant religious site. It's uninhabited and shouldn't be too much trouble if it goes down."

"It's also full of Covenant from the splinter cells led by Jul 'Mdama." Captain Lasky chimed in, "Losing it will strike a blow to their morale and help the Arbiter win his war. Both sides come out ahead, Admiral."

"Oh, of course they do." Admiral Osman hissed, her eyes dark with fury. "So we're supposed to just let you charge off into Sangheili territory to help them? Need I remind you of what they did to humanity? They would sooner see us all burn than help us save ourselves."

"Only because you've kept the fires of war burning long after they should have gone out!" Admiral Hood snapped, slamming his hands to the table in front of him. Even across light years of distance and through the hologram, Cortana felt that slam in her bones. "Need I remind you of how thin the ice you're standing on is, Admiral Osman? One more word and I'll have you removed."

If looks could kill, Admiral Hood would have been spaced. The other five Admirals all looked to her, watching, waiting for her response, and with a drawn out exhalation she sat back.

"Yes sir," She said, looking away. Lord Hood eyed her for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the Infinity and her crew.

"Master Chief, Cortana," He said to them, looking both John and her avatar in the eye, "You both know the odds of success are slim to none. Even if the Arbiter is willing to help us clean up our mess, are you absolutely certain this is something you're willing to do?"

"Sir," they said in perfect unison, "Yes, sir."

Captain Lasky closed his eyes. On the other side of the connection, so did Lord Hood. He took a deep breath, let it all go, and then opened them again.

"The last time someone didn't listen to you, seven million people were wiped off the face of the planet. If we don't stop the Didact, all life in the galaxy will meet the same fate, but we can't spare the Infinity from the defensive lines."

Cortana's core lurched. That was it, then. Lord Hood had made his call and they were going to have to go AWOL. It was a price worth paying, but the thought of John throwing everything he had away for it…it still stung.

"That being said," Lord Hood continued, startling her, "Spartans can do a lot more good on the ground than in a starship. Captain Lasky," He looked to the Captain and asked, "How quickly can you be in Sangheili space?"

"Four hours, sir."

Lord Hood nodded, doubtlessly running the math. Four hours to Sangheili space from Meridian, then the trip back to Earth. Still reeling from actually being backed up by the brass, Cortana ran the calculations: they would arrive in Earth orbit after eighteen hours. Well within the twenty four limit usually imposed on emergency recalls. He nodded again.

"Then I'm going to greenlight this operation," He said, "I have channels into Sangehelios. I'll call ahead so the Arbiter knows you're coming. Captain Lasky, once you've dropped the Chief and Cortana off, set course for Earth." He sighed quietly. "Maybe someday we'll stop needing to rely on you both so much."

"Someday, sir." Cortana said with a gentle smile. "I've forwarded everything we have on the Didact and the Guardians to FLEETCOM. I'd recommend having the heaviest hitters up in front when you set defensive lines."

"Acknowledged." Lord Hood replied. He looked at the two of them as if it were the last time he would ever see them alive, then reached up and adjusted the brim of his cap. "Master Chief, Cortana, the UNSC thanks you for your continued service and bravery in the face of insurmountable odds. We'll keep the lights on for you."

"Sir," John snapped out a salute, "Thank you, sir."

With a final nod, Lord Hood severed his connection. Osman was gone in the next second without so much as a by your leave, and the other Admirals lingered only long enough to nod respectfully before they also cut their connections. Captain Lasky leaned heavily against the holo-table, sighing. Palmer reached out to put a hand on his shoulder and he lifted his head.

"Why is it that we keep having to send you two into the jaws of death?" He asked rhetorically, "Why do we always need you to sacrifice to solve problems other people created?"

There was no other answer to that line of questioning, and certainly no satisfying one. John shifted uncomfortably, rolling his shoulders. Cortana dismissed her avatar and stepped out of the shadows to stand beside him, looking up to meet his eyes. His stony expression had cracked, revealing the full depths of his discomfort. He grimaced, looking away from her as well. He had no answers for the Captain either. She took a deep breath.

"Sir," Cortana began slowly, watching as he turned to look at her, "The Didact got loose because of us. It's our job to stick him back in the box."

Or die trying. If she was being honest with herself, they probably would. John probably would. Her eyes burned with tears she couldn't shed and she shoved at her emotional processing unit until it settled. She cleared her throat.

"We know the odds aren't good. There's a good chance this'll be the last time we see this ship." See home again. She closed her eyes, processed the thought, and set it aside. Setting her shoulders back she held her head high and added, "But it's our job, our duty, to go out there and do everything we can to stop him. No matter what it takes."

"It's your duty as soldiers." The Captain said, looking oddly at John. Almost like he'd heard those words before. That was strange. They must have talked about something while she was out. She watched John set his shoulders and nod, prompting the Captain to sigh heavily. He scrubbed a hand down his face, palm rasping against three day old stubble. He muttered a few curses into his hand and closed his eyes. He wouldn't stop them, Cortana knew, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Palmer's hand squeezed his shoulder and he took another breath. "Okay. Okay. If you're sure."

"We are, sir." John said, his voice pitched low, "But don't count us out just yet. We might get lucky."

"Says the man who lands on his head half the time," Palmer shot back, though her tone was without heat. She shook her head, her eyes dark with emotion she didn't allow herself to express. "Just don't do anything stupid. I don't want to have to break in another second in command after I finally got you working the teams the way I like."

The corner of John's mouth twitched upwards. "Ma'am. We'll do our best."

"See that you do," the Captain said sternly. He'd lowered his hand from his face, steeling his expression. His voice was firm as he ordered, "Your orders are to eliminate the Didact, and I expect you both to be back on this ship in one piece when your mission is complete. Is that clear?"

"Sir," John and Cortana said in unison, snapping out sharp salutes. "Yes sir."

There was no point in denying the odds. They all knew their chances of success were limited, even with fresh armor and the best weapons they could carry. The Didact was beyond skilled, beyond competent. If they didn't take him out immediately upon encountering him, the odds of their successfully complying with those orders were pretty slim. This was more than likely a one way trip.

Strange. The last time they'd had one of those she'd been ready for it to be over but now. Now she hesitated, her core lurching. It wasn't that she was unprepared to face death in the course of completing this mission, in the course of keeping the galaxy safe from all threats, it was that she was still unprepared to face his death. No amount of logic or time could prepare her to face that. Even just thinking about it was enough to put a chill of terror in her core.

Instantly, every process reached the same conclusion. They—she—would do absolutely everything in her power to make sure that John walked back onto this ship in the same state he'd walked off of it. No matter what it cost her, she was going to bring him home. She wouldn't give up hope that they could make this work, no matter how slim the odds.

They could do this, she told herself as the Captain dismissed them with orders to suit up and get ready to drop. They had to do this.

If they didn't…well. The world would end with a bang after all.

#halo #halo fic #halo fanfic #!fic #fic: per aspera ad astra

[melancholic-rowen]

Kingdom hearts au where everything’s the same but the hearts are Anatomically correct instead of the weird glowy orbs things

#kingdom hearts #kh #au #body horror #kinda #the rest of the tags are gonna be a little more graphic so be careful #I know this sounds like a dumb/crack au but hear me out #I think it would be kinda cool to visually show how much more horrifying some of those scenes could’ve been #like terra possession #imagine xheanort actually ripping out his heart and launching it at terra #and the hearts arteries and other attached things just kinda.... sinking into him no matter how much he pulls at the heart #although scenes like baby sora letting ven sleep in his heart is gonna be less parasitic looking #I’m not sure how the other scenes involving physical hearts would work #it’s spoopy season and kingdom hearts can be easily super horrific if you change one little thing #basically pulling a reverse Coraline movie deal XD

[traumxrei-archive]

【 three's a party (and yuu does not want to play host) 】

author's note: this is a repost of my fic, but in tumblr-friendly format in case anyone dislikes ao3's formatting sjdkfsj (i've been there too dw) it's a little fic i wrote bc i had lots of octatrio brainrot n wanted to see how they'd react to crowley overworking the prefect. n then somehow this happened. kind of a filler as i work on the rest of the reqs + my leona fic, so i hope you enjoyed it if you haven't read it already !

characters: gn! yuu, azul ashengrotto, floyd leech, jade leech

warnings: non-graphic depictions of biting + blood (gee, thanks tweels but also please be careful if you're squeamish !!)

word count: 6.8k (i brainrot too hard-)

tags: uhhh octatrio *jazz hands*, yuu is overworked and underpaid (courtesy of crowley), let's pay floyd to become a professional cuddler, and pay jade to be a professional floyd-enabler, we blame the biting on both tweels, azul-typical deal making (becoming one of my fav tags ngl), protective octatrio ? hell yeah, protective octatrio !!

[ read it on ao3 | previous tumblr post ]

Yuu was tired. They shuffled the papers in their arms, carrying two more folders filled with them. That sad excuse of a headmage has once again tasked them with something almost impossible. This time he was shirking his own duties to go off on some weekend getaway at the Scalding Sands.

"Now I leave these duties to you, Yuu-kun," Crowley had said, not even bothering to hide the suitcase or the travel outfit he had on. Heck, he was even slathering on sunscreen as he spoke to them.

"What is it this time, headmage?" Yuu asked, Grim clearly not paying attention as he gorged himself on the cookies Crowley had set up as a bribe.

Crowley pats at the two stacks of folders on his desk, "This side is the invoices, and this side is the supplies that we received. It'd be so helpful if you could, ah, help me out in matching and making sure they're all in order."

"F-funyah... That's gonna take a long time..." Grim backed up to the door. "I-I have to turn in my potions homework... Bye, henchman!" And, there goes Grim, leaving them alone to stare at the stack of papers.

"Ahem," Crowley awkwardly picked up his suitcase. "Well, I suggest you get started soon since I need this done by the end of the weekend. I wouldn't want you to shoulder your...excessive food funds." And then he was gone. Leaving Yuu with two stacks of terror and sleep deprivation.

Yuu's been working hard, with frequent breaks to nap so that....well, so they don't keel over and die. They've bounced around several different locations so far, searching for a spot to take care of these papers. They've been working at the library, infirmary, their own room, the cafeteria (when it wasn't mealtime), and even in Trein-sensei and Crewel-sensei's classrooms. The two teachers had sent Yuu equally as pitying looks before taking a few invoices and checking them over in the middle of their own work, which Yuu was really grateful for.

Their next spot was this place: Mostro Lounge. They just hoped that the Octatrio wouldn't find them too quickly. They still had work to get done after all. It wasn’t Jade that greets them at the entrance, much to Yuu's relief. Mostro Lounge was an ideal place to do work and almost no one would be willing to disturb a customer or gaze at their work too hard.

Yuu was quickly guided into a booth near the back next to the tank. Virtually no one sat there, due to the smallness of it but Yuu quite liked it. It was almost cozy there. They ordered a drink with espresso in it, trusting the Lounge would make something presentable out of it. Yuu then set out to work.

They had almost thirty minutes of undisturbed work before someone tapped their shoulder. Yuu looked up to see Floyd, leaning his whole body over the table, a wide grin on display. Great Seven, why did it have to be Floyd that found them first?

"Why didn't you tell me you were visiting today, Little Shrimp?" Floyd easily scooted into the booth, placing their drink down. "Thought I was smelling things earlier but Shrimpy’s name's on the order and that means I win~!"

"What...what did you win?"

"Well, it doesn't matter! Now let's go play~" He tugged hard at their arm, and it felt like he was about to rip it out of its socket. "We can go visit Azul too, to tell him I won, and then we can go swimming-"

"I can't, Floyd." The taller stopped talking immediately, his grin deflating into a frown. It tied Yuu's stomach in knots. They never knew how Floyd would react to rejection.

This time, he just whined, "Why not? 'S not like you're doing anything interesting."

"Uhm," Yuu tapped at the table. "It's not interesting, but imagine if Azul was bossing you aro-"

"Azul always does that though. Don't needa imagine it."

"-okay, so Azul's bossing you around. And he tells you to do something. Or else he'll make you do something you hate, for example...?"

Floyd pouted, "...letting Jade beat up all the small fries while I'm stuck with the dishes."

Yuu paused at the example, "A very Floyd answer. Or else he won't let you beat up the people who breached his contracts. For a whole month, you have to wash dishes instead."

"Not for a month!" He was whining even harder now.

"Exactly, that's why I need to do this," Yuu vaguely gestured at the papers.

Floyd's eyes lit up, "Or else Azul won't let you beat people up? Didn't know Shrimpy liked fighti-"

"No! Or else Crowley will do something like not letting me eat food at the cafeteria!"

"Oh," And Floyd gave them a pitying look– the Floyd Leech was feeling sympathetic for them, how pathetic did they have to be?– "Then we'll play next time?"

"Yes, I'll swim with you next time," Yuu said, relieved that he understood. "I promise. Thank you for letting me work, Floyd." The blue-haired nodded, but he didn't move from his spot.

Yuu sipped at the drink– something sugary that hid the espresso really well– as they continued to work. Floyd's gaze burned into them quite intently but there was nothing they could do when he was already being so good.

Then there was a finger squishing their cheek and Floyd was grinning again, "I had a great idea~ How 'bout we sit so I can squeeze Shrimpy and Shrimpy can keep doing the boring stuff? C'mon, c'mon I'll keep you company." Yuu nodded and was immediately lifted up right into the air by the armpits. Like a cat. Yuu swore that they weren't that light, it was just the students at this school that were on crack or something for them to be that strong.

Floyd hummed as he placed them between his thighs, "See, see~ This is so much more fun." His frame draped over them slightly, arms wrapping around their waist as their back met his front. It was kind of like having a weighted blanket wrapped around them, except it wasn't warm, just...oddly comforting.

"Alright, Floyd," Yuu felt him fiddling with their uniform. "Just...don't squeeze too hard." Work went on as usual, with Floyd occasionally playing with their hair, or even nipping at their ears or neck. Yuu elbowed him when he did that. His teeth were too sharp for those seemingly innocent actions to actually be innocent. One bite and they might just bleed out, right in that dingy corner at Mostro Lounge. There was also a chance that he might pick them up and drop them on the ground once he got bored of sitting around.

But after a while, Floyd was suspiciously still. His head settled onto Yuu's shoulder, the little puffs of his breath tickling Yuu's neck every few seconds. Yuu looked over at him, brushing back his bangs to see what Floyd was doing only to find him...asleep.

The Floyd Leech was asleep. On their shoulder. That wasn't something they expected to happen when they walked in here. Floyd whined a bit in his sleep, squeezing a bit tighter. Yuu shushed at him, patting his hair to placate him. He grew silent after a bit, and Yuu released a breath.

Waking Floyd was probably going to be a headache, so they continued to work. Or was trying to continue their work, before a set of familiar footsteps had stopped at their table. They didn't bother looking up, assuming it was the waiter, here to take their drink.

"My, so this was where Floyd escaped to," – Yuu's shoulders tensed before remembering they had a sleeping eel at their back– "He was always better at sniffing out prey than me."

Ignoring the fact that they got called prey, Yuu acknowledged the calmer-looking Leech, "Jade-senpai."

"I'll come back with some tea," Jade said, taking their empty glass. "Something relaxing, perhaps? You look a little stressed, Yuu-san."

Yuu nodded, "I'd...appreciate that. How much will that be? I already paid for the drink before, just in case I forgot."

"Mmm," Jade's expression turned contemplative. "It's supposed to sell at 12 thaumarks, but since I'll be dining with you, I'll foot half the bill."

"That's...oddly nice of you," Yuu said, knowing that the other wouldn't take offense at such a comment.

And surprise surprise, Jade merely smiled, razor-sharp this time, "I'm offended that you'd think so little of me." Then Jade was gone, in a flurry of perfectly placed movements. Yuu sighed, looking down at the papers in front of them. It just never seemed to end, and they would be hitting their limit soon. A nap was in due order.

Jade arrived with the tea set in no time, "Ah, think of this as repayment for getting Floyd to sleep. He's been complaining that his teeth were hurting and that he wanted to go back to the ocean...it has been quite troublesome, for both me and Azul."

"That's...not good." Yuu watched, enraptured by the way Jade was very elegantly preparing the tea. Damn him and his near-perfectionism in everything. It made him that much harder to be wary of.

"Well, he was asking me to play around, but I had really pressing work and he seemed to get it so..."

"He fell asleep soon after that?"

"He was squeezing me, but after a while, he must've dozed off," Yuu shrugged.

"My, how soft, to fall asleep in front of prey," Jade placed their cup in front of them, staring over at the sleeping Leech. "Try adding some sugar to the tea." Yuu pours a spoonful in and gasped as the tea turns from a dark blue to purple color.

There's a delight in Jade's face, maybe at their reaction, "Stir it, Yuu-san."

Yuu does, and the color changes once more, from purple to light pink.

"What kind of...magical tea is this?" Yuu held up their cup like it was going to run away from them.

"A...personal blend of mine," Jade chuckled lightly. "I've found that some plants I encounter while I do my club activities make the most fascinating teas."

Yuu narrowed their eyes at the cup, "This isn't...going to make me see hallucinations right? I really need to focus on this before Crowley wrings me out."

"Oh no, although I do know of a blend that does so, this is merely a relaxant." Jade takes a sip of his own cup as if to demonstrate its harmlessness. "I make this blend for Azul sometimes when he's got a lot of work to deal with."

Yuu braved a sip and felt a warm tingle make its way down their throat. With a sigh, Yuu felt all the muscles start to soften and they sag back against Floyd's front.

"Good?"

"Oh yeah, very good," Yuu took another sip, flexing their hands to get the invisible ants out.

"What have you been working on?" Jade asked, gesturing at the papers. "Something for the headmage?"

Yuu groaned, staring at the still-hefty stack of papers, "Crowley- I mean, our benevolent headmage has left a student in charge of checking invoices for the school's purchases while he goes off for a weekend escapade."

"That is...certainly a difficult situation," Jade eyed the papers. "I could help you with some, but I might need to go if Azul calls. How many of these have you gone through already?"

"There were two stacks of these, a meter tall on his desk before he left."

Jade patted their head sympathetically, grabbing a folder, "I think I can relate, especially on the part where my boss makes unreasonable demands. But at least the pay is, mmm, more handsome on those days."

And then they were working. Amicably, to Yuu's surprise. Jade Leech was a good work partner when he wasn't condescending or trying to be scary. (He didn't have to try that hard, he was already imposing enough.) Jade was efficient, and Yuu felt like their brain was turning to mush by the minute. The tea was making them drowsy as well, so that wasn't helping their situa-

Suddenly, there were teeth at their neck...? There were teeth at their neck, real and sharp from the way the jaw of their perpetrator flexed slightly against their skin. Yuu's head snapped up, "Uhm, Floy...d...?"

Floyd was grumbling quietly before the teeth are gone, "Ja~de, stop tryna steal Shrimpy from me!" His hold on them suddenly tightened, his leg moving to tangle in theirs. The teeth are back on their neck as if they'd never left. Yuu swallowed slowly, hoping that they'd get to leave this situation alive as they looked at Jade.

Jade looked unimpressed at Floyd's behavior, "Floyd, it is rude to treat Yuu-san that way when they've been courteous enough to let you sleep as they work." He set the papers he was working on aside as he focused on his twin.

It's nerve-wracking to be in the middle of a fight between these two because, well, Yuu had never seen them fight before. Sure, there are times when they disagreed, but they usually settle it quickly. Now, being the main reason why they were fighting in the first place...Yuu wasn't sure they could survive this. Maybe they should start writing a will, to give away what little possessions they had.

"I know! 'S not Little Shrimp's fault," Floyd whined and rubbed his head against Yuu's nape. "It's cuz of you, now go away, Jade, I don't wanna share."

And then like a switch was flipped, Jade smiled, all provocation, "Well, Yuu-san doesn't belong to you, Floyd." There's a tense silence and Yuu lamented going back to writing their will. Why would Jade say something that would rile him up even more? Now Floyd had his legs wrapped around Yuu's thighs, arms squeezing to the point of discomfort. And the worst part was that those teeth were still scratching at their nape.

"Floyd, I'd appreciate it if you don't bite my ne-" - Yuu shivered as the teeth pressed in a little harder. "My neck." They sat up as best they could, reaching a hand back to pet at Floyd's hair. His grip relaxed the slightest bit. "I'll die if you do."

"But if I don't bite, then Jade'll bite first. And I wanna bite first." Floyd said, so matter-of-factly that any other person would've thought he was talking about lunch. Yuu glanced over at Jade, who doesn't refute the statement, and instead looks amused. Amused, of all things! The gall of this...this overly tall mer-eel!

"No one's biting anyone, please," Yuu argued weakly. "I...really need my neck in one piece." It's a stalemate because Floyd won't let go, Jade won't leave, and Yuu's literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. And they've been stressed all day, so whatever they could do to get out of this...

A flicker of an idea appeared in Yuu's mind, and before they could think too hard, they blurted, "Does it have to be my neck?"

Jade looked visibly surprised by their statement, "You're...going to let him bite you?"

Yuu felt miserable at the prospect, "I have work to do. If this will get you both to quiet down then it's worth it. I think."

"Yay! I get to bite Little Shrimp!" Floyd cheered, jostling Yuu around. "I wonder, will Shrimpy taste like a shrimp...?" The question was asked so innocently that it left Yuu dumbfounded.

"Uhm, then how about my arm...?" They were facing Floyd now, offering up their right arm.

Floyd took it, kneading it between his hands, "Hmm... Not as squishy as your cheeks or tummy, but it'll do for today!" Jade hasn't said anything in a while, but he seemed interested as his twin rolled up the sleeve of their uniform and blazer. Well, there goes their last chance of getting out of this.

"Don't move, Little Shrimp, or else the blood'll go everywhere, like whoosh," Floyd made a gushing motion. "Kinda like those fancy fountains, 'cept it'll be blood~"

Was this a horrible idea? Yes. Were they going to regret this later? Oh yes, most certainly. But was it happening? Begrudgingly, also yes.

And Yuu tried not to imagine the blood fountain in their mind as Floyd clamped down on their arm. He didn't waste any time, immediately biting down. They winced. His teeth were sharp enough to cut into their skin effortlessly. Floyd smiled against their arm in content, once again confirming that Floyd Leech was slightly insane. They didn't move until he finally pulled away.

There was blood everywhere, on his teeth, lips, and even his chin, but Floyd grinned, "Y'know, 's not bad! Doesn't taste like a shrimp, but still good." He made a show of licking the wound again, "Aha, my teeth hurt of so long, so thank you, Shrimpy!"

Their arm is throbbing– burning, actually– but it didn't hurt as much as they'd expected. Maybe it was the adrenaline rushing in their ears, but they felt a little too calm and overwhelmed at the same time. There was a tingling when Floyd licked over it again, and Yuu belatedly wondered if eelmer saliva was toxic to humans.

"C'mon, Jade. You wanna bite too, right?" Floyd smiled gleefully, facing his twin. Wait...what? "Look, Shrimpy. He looks so hungry~" Yuu looked up and there's something dark in Jade's eyes. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, they had almost forgotten that both of them were clinically insane. What kind of sane person liked the taste of human blood anyway?

Jade stood, politely smiling, "Scoot over, Floyd." Said Leech backed up in the booth, giggling all the while and tugging Yuu with him.

"W-wait, how come Jade-senpai's biting me too-!"

Jade's hand grips at their forearm, glove staining with red, "My, it is rude to offer this one of us and not the other."

"He's right! And you taste good, so don't worry."

"I- I thought you didn't want to share !"

Floyd looked sinister as he grinned again, still bloody, "Well that's before. Now's now. Now be a good shrimp and let Jade bite you~" Yuu resisted the urge to kick at Jade as he settled between their legs. Calm down, this guy was just helping out before. Calm down.

Jade swept back his hair as he brought their arm closer, "I promise I'll be gentle."

It's not reassuring at all when Jade says it while smiling that smile that reminds Yuu of a predator baring its teeth. And just like that, there was a second bite on their arm. It didn't hurt as much as the first, but maybe they were growing numb to the pain by now.  Jade lapped at the blood and hummed as if pleased by the taste before retracting his teeth.

Yuu stared at the twin bites on their arm with disappointment, "You two are...literally the worst. If I die of an infection, I am not writing you guys into my will."

“Shrimpy didn’t move so it’ll heal,” Floyd petted their hair to mollify them, "Tastes pretty good, right Jade? It scratches that itch, so there's also a bonus~"

Jade nodded, licking the blood dripping down his chin, staining his shirt, "I must say, that was satisfactory." The twins flash Yuu their sharp grins, both equally caked in their blood and now Yuu remembered exactly why these two were twins. They were cut from the same piece of cloth, after all.

"Please don't say you're gonna eat me or something, I'm not food," Yuu grumbled, cupping their arm. "Could you at least get some tissues? The blood's getting everywhere." Floyd grabbed the whole tissue stand, stuffing it into Yuu's hand. But he made no effort to move from his position where he was cuddling into Yuu. Jade was no different, passively watching and occasionally helping with the used tissues.

"What in Seven's name are you doing?"

The voice made them flinch. Yuu looked up, only to make eye contact with one horrified Azul Ashengrotto. Jade doesn't look all that surprised as he turned, and Floyd gave Azul a big wave.

"Is that...Yuu–?" Azul sighed tiredly. "Up, all of you. To the VIP Room. Now."

"Yes, sir."

"Yessir!"

"O-okay."

Floyd lifted them up with him as he stood, acting as a barrier between the rest of Mostro Lounge and their little party of four. At this point, Yuu couldn’t bring it on themself to say they could walk and just let Floyd do his thing.

"Ooh, Azul looks real mad," He mused, frowning. "But we were just havin' fun, me, Shrimpy, and Jade were."

They're placed on the couch. Or, they're placed on Floyd's lap as he sat on the couch, was a more accurate statement. Jade walked in, bloodied glove in his breast pocket as he carried a stack of papers.

"Thanks, Jade-senpai."

"Not to worry, it was me and Floyd who, ah, inconvenienced you," He sat down next to the two, exchanging another chilling smile with Floyd. Crazy, both of them were.

"Tell me why I was working peacefully when I get a report that, and I quote, 'The Leech brothers are mauling a customer'?" Azul paced around in front of the three on the couch. “Mauling” was...well, it wasn't entirely off. Their arm was still throbbing, and the blood hadn't stopped flowing yet.

"We weren't mauling the Little Shrimp," Floyd huffed, offended at the accusation. "We were just playing 'n Shrimpy said a little bite was okay."

"Quite," Jade nodded as if saddened. "I was having a nice conversation with Yuu-san before the, ah, biting, as Floyd said." They said it as if both of them didn't have blood staining their chins and the collars of their shirts. Yuu just wanted to work in peace. Why did they end up in this situation?

Azul dragged a hand over his face, "Show me." Yuu leaned as far forward as they could with Floyd holding on to them. The bites certainly didn't look as clean as before. The blood was beginning to drip. It looked kinda scary, actually. Yuu was sure there was some sort of paralyzing agent in their saliva, or else maybe they'd be screaming their heads off from the pain.

"I'll hear your explanations later. Jade, Floyd, for now, step outside the room."

Floyd's grip tightened, "Eh, but I don't wanna~"

"Floyd, let's let Azul have a turn," Jade placed a hand on his twin’s shoulder. "It'll only be about five minutes."

"I'm not some toy you can have a turn on." And Jade just smiled at the retaliation, as if he thought it was funny they were complaining after everything that happened.

Floyd reluctantly let go, "I'll be back in no time, Shrimpy."

"If you heal it all the way, we might just have to bite Yuu-san again, Azul," Jade called out before he left. Crazy bastards.

"Don't forget to change your clothes, you got blood everywhere!" Azul shouted after them before standing. He grabbed a cloth and a potion from his drawer.

He sighed as he stared at all the blood, "Let's get it cleaned up before you get an infection."

"Is their saliva poisonous?" Yuu tried not to flinch as Azul ran the cloth around the edges of the bite.

"Not as toxic as their animal counterparts, but I know that there's something that may cause infections," Azul looked up at Yuu before looking back down. "Why would you, out of all people, give them permission to bite you?"

"Well...Floyd was threatening to bite my neck-" Azul almost dropped the cloth at that. "L-Long story short, he was...er, squeezing me and he fell asleep. Jade-senpai came around with some tea, we were discussing my work and Floyd woke up."

"I see. I'm assuming he didn't want to share?" He poured half of the potion onto the bites. The skin knits together, and it's almost like it never happened, save for the light pink scars left on their arm.

Yuu sighed, "It wasn't my brightest decision, I was really tired so to save my own neck, I offered my arm. To Floyd. but then Jade-senpai just..."

"That's when you should be cautious," Azul ruffled their hair. "Rule number two when dealing with the Leeches, what one gets, the other covets too."

"What's rule number one ?"

"Where one goes, the other will follow," Azul looked a bit sorry as he ran a finger over the scars. "Next time don't let them bite you. Call me when they're being unreasonable."

"What's the price?"

"The...price?" Azul looked momentarily askew as if deals or favors from him don't usually have a price tag attached to them. But he recovered quickly. "Well, the payment will be–"

The door is flung open unceremoniously, "Azul! It's been five minutes so now I get a turn!" And there are the twins, looking more like students rather than murderers this time.

Jade placed himself next to Azul. Yuu paid them no mind, no doubt they must've been talking about Mostro Lounge's affairs. Floyd nestled back beside them, this time burying his face in their stomach. Yuu sucked in a breath at the action, having seen literally firsthand what the eel’s teeth can do. The blue-haired giggled like it was funny.

"No more biting," Yuu pleaded. "I really need to do this by the end of today." Yuu picked up the abandoned papers, eyeing the one folder that they haven't sorted through yet. They won't be getting any sleep if that isn't done.

"What've you been doin' Shrimpy?" Floyd asked, wrapping his arms around their torso.

"Hmm? Oh, these are invoices. There are papers that say what's been delivered and what's been ordered. Crowley's forcing me to check them."

"Sounds bo~ring," Floyd singsonged, snatching a paper from Yuu's hand. "What if we set them on fire and build one of those bonfire things instead?"

Yuu took the paper, "I'd get in trouble. Remember washing dishes?" And Floyd shuddered at that, which Yuu found to be a little bit of a cute reaction.

"Are you getting paid, Prefect?" Oh, so Azul was paying attention to them.

They glanced up to find both Azul and Jade staring at them, "Well no. But he did threaten to cut the food funds again, so-"

"Cutting the food funds?" Azul scoffed.

"Again?" Jade's eyebrows furrowed.

There was a short silence before Floyd sat up, "I volunteer to squeeze the headmage! I'll do a great job for you, Little Shrimp."

"What? No, he'll expel you." And the eel deflated before latching onto them again like they were some sort of throw pillow. Yuu glanced warily at Azul and Jade, who all of a sudden had their business smiles on.

Azul approached them first, "How about you work for Mostro Lounge?"

"You mean as waitstaff?" Yuu tilted their head. "I already take up shifts most weeks, but-"

"Not work at Mostro Lounge, Yuu-san," Jade said in that ever so polite tone of his. "Work for the Lounge. Like me and Floyd."

"Uhuh...like you and Floyd," Yuu briefly imagined themself fighting students from other dorms and...nope. That's impossible because one spell and they'll be sent straight to heaven. If they even had heaven here.

"Your work wouldn't be too different to what you're doing right now," Azul sat down on the coffee table, minding the papers. "Usually I am in charge of matching up invoices, but since the business has grown it's been getting a bit...much. I can assure you that you'd be paid handsomely." And Yuu felt like they were being dragged into a trap.

"Ooh, Azul's got a great idea! I get to see Little Shrimp every day!" Floyd's gaze turned contemplative. "But it might get boring. But it might not. So let's do it~"

"Plus," And Yuu jumped when they heard Jade's voice beside them, his arm already on Yuu's forearm. "If you're here then maybe we'll get another taste."

Yuu whipped their arm back, "No more biting. I'm serious, one time's enough." And ugh, Yuu really didn't want to get stuck between these two again.

"If I may," Azul spread his arms wide. "We can set up a contract– a work one, now don't look at me like that– and work out the details of that some other time. For now, we just need your affirmation to the deal."

"Maybe you should hire someone more capable?" Yuu couldn't believe that Azul was hiring someone like them for this job. It's not like they were a professional, they've been doing this for two days after all.

"You're more than capable, Yuu-san," Jade gestured at their work. "You've been doing the headmage's work for him. There might not be anyone as capable as you."

"Jade is right. And also, Mostro Lounge doesn't only value capability," Azul held their gaze, and there's something like warmth there. "We also value trust. There's a reason why we haven't hired another working for the internal system all this time." It's because they haven't found someone trustworthy enough. The words were left unspoken but Yuu swallowed hard.

Azul? Trusting them? Even though they were just invoices, nothing like contracts or other sensitive details like funds, it was still...something. A lot more than they thought Azul, and the Leeches by extension, would've been willing to give them. The trio had always seemed to be impenetrable, so why were they suddenly making space for someone like them?

In an instant, there were arms binding theirs, accompanied by Floyd's cheerful voice, "Shrimpy's taking too long. Imma squeeze till you say yes~"

And, well, there goes the touching mood. Azul and Jade look unfazed as if this was part of the plan should they turn away the deal. Which meant that...this was a trap all along. Was that whole spiel about trust real...? Yuu didn't know when they had time to coordinate their attacks like this, they worked too seamlessly for them to notice.

Yuu thumped their head against Floyd's chest, "Coercion. Great. Fine, I'll do it."

There's a short silence before Azul takes their hand, "It's a deal." His voice was uncharacteristically soft and Yuu barely registered the chaste kiss that he gave their knuckles. Then Yuu felt their brain short circuit because what. Azul just kissed their-

"Aha, Shrimpy's face was so funny," Floyd cupped their face, leaning closer. "Hey, will Shrimpy do it again if I kiss on th-"

Yuu scrambled, pressing a hand to the grinning eels' lips, "No kissing! No more kissing! Not now, not ever." They tumbled back-first into Jade, Floyd's weight still insistent on their front.

"My, I am quite offended that Azul got a free pass on that rule," Jade said lightly, though his arms were gripping Yuu's shoulders quite firmly. "What do you think, Floyd?"

"Well...I let Shrimpy work. And Shrimpy let me sleep. But then I bit Shrimpy. And now there's no kiss," Floyd counted on his fingers. "That means that we get to choose what to play next time~"

And oh Seven's above, that sounded like a terrible idea.

Yuu looked over at their potential savior, "Azul-senpai, you-"

"I'm already helping you," Azul said, waving a hand. "As your future boss, I'll handle these last few invoices. You can handle their games for a little more, right?"

"Poor little Yuu-san has no one to help," Jade said in a mocking tone. "Then, as Floyd said, we'll choose what to do next time. For now, you can do what you'd like."

"Mhm! I'm bein' super obedient right now, like one of those Savanaclaw pups," Floyd boasted, still in the process of crushing their ribs with his weight.

And Yuu was tired. These two were too unpredictable, and Azul...Azul was a dick when he chose to be. Which were most times. The exhaustion was clinging to them now, and their body ached, from the biting and the sitting and the working and- everything.

In a small voice, they voiced their request, "Uh, then can I borrow a bed...?"

Jade raised an eyebrow, "Well, that's quite forward of you to ask-"

"N-Not for that kind of bed stuff, ugh," Yuu made sure to pinch the inside of his wrist. They were sure they saw Azul turning red too behind the papers he was reading.

"Ooh, what type of bed stuff then, Little Shrimp?" Floyd sat himself up, sitting on Yuu's lap now. "Pillow fighting? But Azul's banned us because we broke a lot of things last time."

"No, I just...I wanted to take a nap," And their ears burn at the request. "I've...been working all day long and I didn't get any good sleep last night." Maybe it's because it's Jade, Floyd, and Azul, but it seems too silly to ask something like that out loud.

But instead of the teasing response that they expected, Floyd looked sympathetic. He patted their head, "I get that too when my teeth ache too much. 'S annoying."

Jade returned– when did he even leave?– with a pillow in hand, "You can use this couch to lie on. It's a lot more comfortable when we remove the back pillows. Azul uses it to sleep sometimes."

Azul coughed into his hand, "Ah, it's convenient to have a bed in the office, I work late hours, so I had them put it in." And it's kind of...domestic to imagine Azul squeezing onto this couch late at night.

Yuu dragged themself up, watching as Jade detached the big pillows and unfolded a sheet. The sight of something bed-like had the melatonin rushing their brain, and they can feel themself growing hazier and hazier by the minute.

"C'mon, little sleepy Shrimp," Floyd tugged them onto the softness of the couch. "I'll be your blanket for today~" And Yuu couldn't find it in themself to argue as they removed their blazer, flopping into the pillow Jade had laid out. Floyd immediately covered them much like a blanket, folding his limbs around them. Jade was sitting by their head, and there was a gloved hand stroking their hair. Oh, the couch felt like heaven against their skin, and Floyd didn't make that bad of a blanket. And Jade was...comforting... Yuu stifled a yawn.

"Sorry that I'm bothering you guys so much," Yuu found themself mumbling as they grew sleepier.

"No, no," They heard Azul reply. "It has been a rather good day since you've decided to bother us." They were sure Jade had said something, and Floyd had chimed in, but they couldn't hear it anymore. The tide of sleep had already swept them away.

[ omake : octatrio’s new companion ]

"Their heartbeat's real slow," Floyd commented, ear pressed against the Prefect's chest. "I think Little Shrimp's already asleep."

"Shame they didn't hear what we said," Jade chucked, still stroking at their hair. It seemed that they got a haircut since he saw them last, and it looked...quite good on them, he thought.

Azul clicked his tongue, "I can't believe that headmage. Giving them two stacks of these to get done in two days? No wonder they were exhausted." The three were thinking about how Crowley sometimes abused the power he had over their little Ramshackle Prefect, and how they didn't quite like how tired Yuu had been.

"When they wake up, maybe let's play swimming, but in the pool," Floyd said, gently tracing the scar on their arm. "Feel bad for Shrimpy if we go to the Coral Sea all of a sudden."

"You're being really nice, Floyd," Although it was Jade who asked, Azul agreed. Floyd was being really docile around the Prefect at times.

"Well...I like the way Shrimpy talks to me!" Floyd tightened his grip on Yuu. "They don't get mad every two seconds like everyone else. But 's not like they don't ever get mad, 's just they're better than everyone else." An answer that was equal parts genuine and Floyd.

"I noticed that too," Azul said, collecting the papers into a stack. "They seem to treat us without that many reservations. Which is equally foolish and brave."

"It is quite amusing to see them still being occasionally wary," Jade said, smiling down at their sleeping prey. "They choose the best moments."

"Ooh, can we keep 'em longer?" Floyd asked in a bright tone. "Wanna play with them some more~"

The three silently gazed at the sleeping human. The subtle movement of Yuu's chest alerted them that they were alive, and showed just how fragile this person in front of them was. Magicless. There would be no way for them to protect themselves with magic. They would die from the simplest of poisons, too. So...very weak. But that's also what made them all the more worthwhile for the trio. They were quite fond of this magicless and weak creature they had befriended.

"Let's see where this goes," Azul glanced up at the twins. "If everything goes well then maybe we can take them with us to the Coral Sea someday?" And the Leech twins smile something not-so-sinister, the closest they can get to warmth. Azul himself has that grin on his face as he continued to take on the extra work alongside Jade, while Floyd watched over them.

Maybe that little sleeping shrimp would be the one to scale the tall, tall walls that the trio had built around themselves. Maybe they would let Yuu actually see who they were, instead of a mix of the personas they had built to keep themselves safe. But that would be for another time. Today, they were just content watching them peacefully doze.

thank you for reading my octatrio brainrot ! if you'd like to check out more of my work: my ao3 + twst masterlist

if you'd like to be tagged for the sequel, go to this post

#/trau writes #/trau fics #twisted wonderland #twst fic #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jade x reader #azul x yuu #floyd x yuu #jade x yuu #twst yuu #twst mc #octavinelle #octatrio

[fang-wife]

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voyeur | m. izuku 

➳ tags ;; sub!izuku, dom!reader, watching hentai together?, reader is mean and nice </3, quirkless college au!izuku, corruption kink/religious guilt, unprotected sex/creampies, established relationship, afab reader

➳ wc ;; 2.1k

➳ a /n ;; @/sems-diarie made a post abt this a while ago n my brain wouldn’t let it be so. here we are </3 

➳ plot ;; izuku didn’t sneak you into your dorm to watch.. this with you. but he has a habit of letting you do what you like. 

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This is embarassing. 

He knows this is embarassing - more embarassing than he really cares to admit to. He should really know better by now then to let you do as you please. You’re always stringing him along with your schemes and plans and he loses sight of his morals. His standards. 

Then again, he doesn’t have any at this point. The point of him paying for this single dorm was so that he could have space to focus. It wasn’t to sneak you in when his R.A. wasnt looking. Even more then that, it wasn’t to do.. whatever this was. 

It’d be one thing if he was having sex. That’s a normal thing to do in college, to sneak your partner in and smash. But you’re you, and all you ever seem to have planned for him are hair-brained schemes. It’s what this feels like - when you sit on his twin size bed and pat the empty space next to you. The distrust in his expression makes you laugh.. He sighs and does what you’ve asked. 

“What’re you doing?” 

He sounds exasperated. You laugh - too pleasantly for him to be comfortable. You type something into the search bar. Green eyes widen, skin warm and blushing. 

“Wh-what’re you doing?” 

You laugh as you prop the computer on the bed. You grin at him, tucking yourself under his arm. The website mocks him, all black background and animated women with huge tits covering the screen edge to edge. 

“You know something, after you’re done using incognito mode - you’re supposed to switch out to regular search, you know,” you explain. Your hand rests on his thigh. Deku freezes. 

The sound of your voice has always been something of a vice. It gets a little raspy like this - sultry in a way that has him squirming. He doesn’t know what to do. He can feel the heat of your body. 

“Would you know my surprise when I borrow your phone to look up when the convience store closes,” you inch closer, press further “only to see..” 

He knows what you saw before you announce it. His skin feels like it’s on fire, tuning out whatever description you’ve been giving of what he chose to watch. 

Maybe it was the way he was raised - but he always had such a specific sort of guilt towards pornography. Always told himself he shouldn’t watch things like that, shouldn’t touch himself. Izuku had always been a good, well-behaved boy. Done the right thing even when it was hard. 

Meeting you had changed that, changed him. He found his body craving you when he couldn’t control it and he ended up here - watching porn and jerking off with his shirt in his mouth. It’s all come back to haunt him, really. 

“I’m not mad, y’know,” ― and your tone goes soft - it’s assuring enough that Izuku can whimper out an okay, but you’re not done ― “I’m just curious. Can’t we watch it together?,” 

“That’s ― !” 

You flutter your lashes him. 

“That’s?” 

He has a million words that he can say. That he should say. Bad, wrong, immoral. Words that belong at the end of the sentence to describe what he’s doing with you and what he’s considering. 

None of that comes out. 

“That’s.. too much” 

You grin at him. 

“Do you not want too?” 

“..I didn’t say that, it’s just -” 

Your hand squeezes his thigh until your stiletto's dig into them. Your mouth trails his jaw with hot, open mouth kisses until your turning his head to face you. A hand splayed on his face, tongue deep in his mouth. French kissing makes him pant - hands twitching eagerly to touch you. He watches, dazed - the spit trail of saliva that stretches between you two. 

He’s so easy, it’s cute. You press forward with a chaste kiss. 

“Show me what you were watching, Izuku,” 

His hand trembles as he leans forward. He remembers the title - doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. Within seconds, it shows up and he clicks. You lean forward too, observing the tags with a small smile on your face. 

“Milf, NTR, Gangbang,” 

“S-stop reading them!” 

You giggle. 

Without warning - you press play. Izuku finds himself frantic. Worried about the sound, the time, all of it - but you don’t seem to care. The AD comes on and you skip that too. It’s on. A familiar arousal blooms in his chest, the memory of what he’d seen appearing. You settle between his legs, your back pressed to his chest. You bring his hands around your waist.

“Let’s watch ~” 

Izuku face twists with displeasure. The plot nothing to ride home about - a lonely housewife goes out to a club and finds someone to take care of her needs. At first it’s just one stranger at the club - then two, then she’s surrounded and its too much. 

Izuku assumes you’re gonna find him disgusting, but when he looks at your face - you’re smiling, heart-beating in your chest. His eyes blow wide when you take his hand between your legs. You’re wet and you’re letting him touch you and he’s trying his hardest not to show how much he’s shaking. 

A little sigh of pleasure leaves your mouth when Izuku very carefully rubs your clit. It throbs under the pressure of big fingers - you hold his wrist and moan. He can hear the porn in the background but it doesn’t serve to distract him from you. 

“You want me to go n’ get fucked by a bunch of strangers, ‘zuku?” 

He shakes his head furiously. 

“Then you just like watching depraved shit, huh?” 

Unable to argue with you or with the the way his cock twitches and jumps in his jeans, he opts to whine. You can feel his it against your lower-back, the little wet-spot that presses to your thin tshirt. He’s too turned onto think properly - watching the way your body jerks and twitches. 

The woman on screen is stuffed to the brim with cock - it’s all over exaggerated he knows, but he thinks that’s why he likes it. Maybe he just likes the idea of fucking someone that stuffed fulled of cum, how it leaks and pours onto every surface and the way her cunt just seems to take it. And Izuku is such a good, well behaved boy - it’s never crossed his mind to think about doing it to you. 

And no, he doesn’t really want to see you get fucked by so many men but if there were more than one of him he’d be more than inclined to let you. His chest feels tight forgetting to breath. 

He thinks maybe you’re some kind of witch because you always seem to know what he wants before he does. The right way to push all of his buttons. 

“Oh, I see’ ― and he’s afraid of whatever words come out of your mouth next ― “you wanna fuck me full of your cum, Izuku? Wanna know how it feels raw?” 

He moans - loud and shameless and needy against your ear. A breathless laugh leaves your mouth because that’s exactly what he wants. He wants to fuck you full of cum, just picturing how good it might feel. 

You sit up on your knees and bend over a little - pulling short-shorts beneath the curve of your ass and thickest parts of your thigh. Your panties are drenched, clinging to your folds. He inhales sharply, frozen till as you lean forward - pulling them to one side. 

“Take your cock out ‘n fuck me then, baby” ― you challenge, dark and dangerous. Everything about you is so sinful and too tempting for him to ignore. His cock aches ― “Do your best”  

His body moves before he has a proper chance to feel shame. Whatever devils been whispering in his ear (read: you) has won whatever leftover dignity he has left. Without a proper word, his cock stands to attention. His hands are fidgety but they mange to settle on your waist. He guides you down on his dick, bottom lipped pulled between his teeth hard enough to draw blood. 

“Oh, fuck” 

He’s going to cum right away if he doesn’t take a breather. This is the first time he’s feeling you, and it feels so much better than he could understand. The lingering thoughts of the dangerous act silence by how tight and how wet and how willing your pussy is for him. The way your walls twitch - ache shamelessly around his cock. He’s fucking sliding in and out of you - it feels like a special privilege he’s done nothing to earn.

He’s shivering, over and over. When he looks down, he’s not all the way in. He’s not sure if he’s praying to god for the right reason - for forgiveness. All he can think about is how good it feels to be inside and how he absolutely doesn’t want to do anything else. 

“How’s it feel, Izuku?” 

He groans at the sound of your voice, the way you clench down on him and stretch so tightly around his shaft. He’s too wrapped up in the feeling of your cunt - like heaven and silk. 

“F-feels so, so good” 

Part of you thinks you should ride him, but another part of you is more interested in seeing how he fucks you. You snap the laptop closed and push it to the other side of the bed, before flipping around and laying on your back. His cock slips out and he snaps into reality - the way you have your legs in the air and your arms out. 

“I’ll let you fuck me as many times as you want today,” ― your legs reach and wrap around his waist, easily forcing his cock back inside ― “go on,” 

Izuku is a mess, really. His pants are only half-way pulled down and he’s wearing a nerdy graphic t-shirt. He’s borderline in hysterics over how good your pussy feels and can’t do anything other than thank you repeatedly and fuck you with an animalistic need. It’s clumsy like you’d expect, but he makes up for it with sheer enthusiasm. 

His cock is long and pretty - hits every spot you need it too. Izuku fucks you with shallow, sloppy thrusts - so needy and chasing his orgasm. Selfish and inexperienced. Every time he pushes forward, you can feel he’s throbbing. Aching to cum inside and unload. 

You reach a hand between the two of you to finish on your own time - planning on cumming before him. He doesn’t seem to care. 

“Ngh, ohh my god, feel’s’good” 

“Yeah? Gonna cum inside me, handsome? Makin’ such a pretty face for me” 

His stomach churns at the way you call him pretty. It sounds so sweet and adoring - but he knows that you’re a bully. He knows that about but fucks you with all his strength anyways - overly frustrated and fucked out of his mind by the feeling. Like a drug. He likes you so much he feels stupid over it. 

“Yeah, yeah ‘m gonna” 

Your own orgasm washes over you in a pleasant wave, squeezing his cock with force. He gasp and goes faster - all the thoughts washed away from his head. He needs to finish more than he needs anything. More than he needs to sleep for his 6am work-out and 8am class. More than he needs to be quiet because the walls of his dorm are paper thin. More than he needs to exercise self-control, he needs to cum so fuckin bad. 

“Look at me,” 

He follows your command, like always - and you look amused and fucked out just like he is. And Izuku has really never been this into anyone before so seeing you evokes feelings he can’t understand. 

“Oh, fuuck“ 

Briefly he understands that he really just came by looking at you, but nothing really makes sense to him. His eyes are heavy and he’s drooling onto your shoulder, spasming and clinging to your body with the most needy little whimpers. It’s so lewd, how he can feel his cum spurt out and coat your insides and his cock. It’s all so sinful but it feels so good, he can’t bring himself to care. 

“So,” ― you smile, full of mischief ― “if you want to be like that, we’ve got a few rounds to go” 

Izuku splutters at your comment and you laugh. He knows you’re not joking and he whines. You really are a bad influence on him. But with the way his cock is twitching to life again.. 

He might not be any better. 

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#deku x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #deku x y/n #deku x you #gonna post first w/o tags then add them in #knk ;; [ unprotected ] #sub!bnha #sub!izuku #knk ;; [ corruption ]

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Feral (Part 2)

Summary: The reader has finally gotten Dean to one of the Winchester’s private estates with hopes of having a private a safe place to rehab him out of his feral states and back to his normal self. But Dean is still very much feral and his mood can change with the blink of an eye...

Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

Word Count: 4,600ish

Warnings: language, angst, violence, mention of kidnapping, heavily implied abuse (non-graphic)

A/N: Enjoy!...

______

One Day Later

The drive to the house, or estate rather, took about a solid fifteen hours of driving. You were exhausted by the time you got to the gate and questioned whether they’d truly let you in but they simply pulled back the fencing and let you drive in, no questions asked. You unloaded the car first, plopping most things in the first bedroom you could find upstairs. 

The place was massive. Ten bedrooms on the upper level, all large with their own en suites and walk in closets. You were fairly certain there was an office or two up there as well but you didn’t spend too much time exploring. The bedroom at the end of the hall was the one you chose for Dean. It had a lot of natural light and felt open and airy but warm at the same time. There was a fireplace in the corner of his along with a nice sitting area that you figured he’d eventually enjoy with time.

You stopped at the balcony overlooking the foyer below to catch you breath, sweat pouring off your face. You were careful to head down the curved grand staircase, wandering around the downstairs briefly, hands on your hips. There was an office, a formal dining room, laundry, butler pantry and a massive kitchen and living area. There was a smaller living space tucked away next to the office along with a home gym and a set of stairs leading to a basement. At quick glance it was finished for an entertainment area and bar. You jogged back up and went down the hall past the living area and opened the door to the garage, Dean the only thing left in the garage you wanted to get inside today.

“Lift with your knees,” you said to yourself when you opened the back door. He was passed out, seatbelts tucked around him to keep him from rolling around while you drove. Once he was clear and the blanket out of the way, you crawled in and grabbed his arm, pulling him upright. 

You grunted when you got one of his arms over your shoulder and you turned, twisting your arm through his legs and then grabbing your other one. 

“How are you so heavy…” you breathed out, hoisting him up and half over your shoulders, grunting as you slowly made your way inside. You went one step at a time up the back stairs that had a landing, pausing to take a break before you went the rest of the way up. 

You finally got him to his room though and laid him back on the bed before you sat down on the ground, catching your breath for a few minutes.

“Okay. Okay. You’re gonna be out a few more hours so just relax,” you said. You forced yourself to your feet, Dean snoring lightly. He looked like he was taking a nap almost and you found yourself smiling. 

But he was feral and still highly dangerous. You sighed and went to your own room, frowning at the lack of clothes. You went down to the kitchen, nodding when you found the two large tubs on top.

“Why don’t rich people have elevators?” you mumbled, picking one up and dropping it off in your room, ditching the other in Dean’s closet. You hung up everything, ripped off tags and got it tucked away in drawers before you did the same for your own clothes. You caught a whiff of your own scent and turned your head, deciding a quick shower was necessary.

Half an hour later you were dressed and downstairs, the fridge and pantry stocked up as expected plus a few extra things tucked away in there. You tried to get a quick floor plan of the house before heading out the back door and walking around the house once. It was huge, obnoxiously so. A five car garage seemed more than a little excessive in your opinion.

But it felt warm. There were soft whites and grays inside, warm wood tones throughout the house. It was cozy in a way on the interior and Dean’s room in particular felt like a place he could relax and recover in.

“First things first. Let’s try to figure out what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“Hey Dean,” you said when he started to stir awake in his new room around seven that evening. He shot upright in bed, panting as he looked around. You sat down on the edge of the bed, Dean closing his eyes and hanging his head. “You’re someplace safe now. We can work together, one on one, get you all the care you-”

“Owner,” he said, shooting a hand to your throat, eyes dark and wide. 

“Friend,” you squeaked out, hand on the universal remote for his collar in your pocket. He saw the motion and instantly dropped you, getting down on the floor onto his knees, hands in his lap. You sat down and tilted his chin up, Dean staring at your pocket. “You’re partially feral Dean. Instinct takes over. You can’t help it. It’s okay. The collar is on for another six days but this is the only remote and I’m not going to use it.”

You took off the back and removed the batteries, handing him the small square of plastic.

“Even in your feral states you don’t hurt me. I won’t hurt you either. I promise.”

He looked at you through his lashes and swallowed.

“Dean speak freely. Speak as freely as you want to from now on.”

“Trick,” he whispered. You shook your head, removing the collar on your neck. His fist grabbed your shirt, pulling you straight into his lap, his teeth scraping your neck. 

“You can only claim me with my permission understand? I don’t give you permission. I know you don’t want to hurt me Dean. I won’t wear the collar. You’ll always have the chance to do it. I trust you, you trust me and someday this will be a bad memory.”

He inhaled deeply, arms wrapping around your back. You braced yourself for the bite but it didn’t come. He simply rested his chin on your shoulder and hugged you, sighing when you returned the motion for him. 

“Dean this room is yours. You have your own bathroom and closet. We can get you some more clothes or different clothes, whatever you want. Same thing with your hair and beard remember? It’s okay if you don’t know what you want right now either. We’ll work on you having your own wants again, okay?”

“No Sam,” he whispered. You leaned your head back, Dean not moving away from you.

“I can get Sam-”

“No. No Sam. Can’t see this.”

“Dean.”

“Please don’t tell him I’m alive. Don’t let him see what I turned into,” he breathed out. He clung to you and you nodded, Dean sighing. 

“You spoke in a full sentence there,” you said.

“Difficult.” You ran your fingers through his hair, Dean holding you tighter. “Safe?”

“I’m safe Dean. My only job is to protect you and help you relearn your independence and freedom. I might have rules but it’s more like school rules to help you learn and when you’re ready, you can go back out in the world.”

“Never go back,” he said quietly. 

“Well I’ll believe for the both of us.” 

“Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Maybe we can sit up on the bed where it’s more comfortable?” you asked. He growled but it was grumpy more than anything else. “I’ll make you a deal. If you sit up on the bed, we’ll have dinner outside on the back patio tonight.”

“Outside?” he said, instantly letting go of you and standing at a window, staring down at the tidy lawn below. 

“Would you like to go outside?” you asked. “You have to hold my hand the whole time though.”

He instantly took hold of your right one, something sad about how eager he was to please. You led him out of the room and downstairs, Dean taking in every sight he could. It was a quick walk through the kitchen area and out the back door, Dean inhaling deeply and waiting impatiently for you to shut the door. He kept walking and went down the few steps to the grass, Dean curling his toes in it. It was dark out, not much to look at but he smelled a whole lot more calm all of a sudden.

“How old am I?” he asked, a soft smile on his face.

“Thirty.”

“I lost track a while back. Sounds right though. Grass under your feet still feels the same though,” he said. 

“You’re calmer out here I can tell. You’ve only been feral once since you woke up.”

“I don’t remember the last time I was outside. It’s easier to be feral. Don’t have to think. Don’t have to remember what’s going on. Don’t have to feel. Just let instinct run things.”

“You talk about being feral like it’s a choice.”

“It’s a choice to give in. Once you do, you don’t expect to come back out.”

“I worked on feral cases in residency but never had a feral patient that was my own.”

“You a doctor or something?” he asked.

“There was a big crackdown on the Alpha black market about fifteen years ago. I’m a doctor specializing in rehab patients. Or I was,” you said, pursing your lips. 

“You get fired?”

“I broke the law,” you said, looking at him. 

“This place isn’t part of rehab is it.”

“No. I took you away from there because I believed you could come back from going feral. Others disagreed. That would have ended badly for you. So I took you. We have to stay here until you’re ready. I’m sorry but-”

“Will you get arrested if they find you?”

“Probably. But odds are they won’t. Food and anything we need will be delivered here. If for some reason I do get caught before you’re ready, hopefully you’ll no longer be feral and can finish your rehab safely at a facility.”

“So you just threw away your life on the off chance I’m not permanently kinda crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I think your body and head got tired of being scared and made it so the rational part of you didn’t have to go through that anymore. If someone wants to put me in prison for helping you then they can go ahead. I know it’s worth it.”

“You have a lot of faith in the training flunkie,” he chuckled. “I couldn’t even learn to do what I was supposed to all those years.”

“The training flunkie was the flunkie cause he fought as hard as he could until he couldn’t anymore. Sounds exactly like the kind of Alpha to have faith in,” you said. He glanced down at your neck, licking his lips. “Say it. Dean say it.”

“Can’t claim you without permission,” he said, inhaling deeply. “You’re the prettiest smelling Omega I’ve ever met and I’ve met a lot of Omegas.”

“We’re no longer in a rehab setting. There are increased risks you’ll develop an unhealthy dependent relationship with me,” you said.

“Do you know how hard it is for me to not sink into that feral state again? How every second I’m actively fighting it? Either I’m feral and on death row or I develop an unhealthy dependency on you and then I can get out of that and have a healthy relationship. Both options suck but I’m trying really hard not to give in to the easy one. Cut me some slack.”

“Dean this could take months. Years even. What do you want to do?”

“Oh I want to give the fuck in and never wake up to this fucking nightmare again,” he said with a laugh. You blinked and he smiled. “But you sort of just threw away your whole life for me so I owe it to you to at least try.”

“You don’t owe me anything Dean.”

“You took a bullet for me.”

“That guard was way out of line.” You blinked and tilted your head. “Wait, you were feral during that.”

“I may only have an eighth grade education but it doesn’t take a genius to piece together what happened.” 

“I might fuck this up Dean. We’re doing this off the books.”

“Oh I know I’ll fuck things up on my end so it’s only fair you get to too,” he said. 

“You never lost that fight Dean. It’s still in you.” He shrugged and you gently squeezed his hand.

“How’d you find me?” he asked. 

“A new gardener for a wealthy couple went inside the house he was working at for a drink of water. He wasn’t supposed to but he did. He went upstairs and found you when he noticed the home owners weren’t responding. The owners…”

“I killed them, didn't I.”

“You had every right.”

“What rich person owns this house? Can’t be yours if the police are looking for you.”

“It’s a friend’s place. You may see people around on occasion but it’s safe. I promise.”

“You do realize if I think you’re lying to trick me I’m liable to snap and rip your throat out.”

“You’re not gonna rip my throat out.”

“I wouldn’t put that much faith in me.”

“When you were feral you stepped between me and a gun. To protect me.”

“Still wouldn’t put that much faith in me,” he said. He reached into his pocket and handed you back the empty remote for the collar. “I don’t want to hurt you but I might. I killed two people and don’t even remember it. Protect yourself.”

You took the remote and tossed it on the ground, stomping on it and breaking it in two. He rolled his eyes, the green orbs darker when they found yours again.

“You’re an idiot,” he growled.

“If you end up hurting me that badly then I was wrong about you. But I’m not so you work on self-control and I’ll work on the rest, got it?”

He grumbled and started to pull you back inside, hand never leaving yours until he was clear of the door. He took off upstairs, a door slamming shut. 

“I guess we’re not eating outside then.”

An hour later you had a plate of marinated chicken breast, roasted potatoes and a mix of fresh greens in sauce for Dean outside his bedroom. You left it on the floor and knocked before opening the door, finding feathers and pillow stuffing covering practically every inch of the room. He was naked on the bed again, ripping at a pillow case with his teeth. His eye twitched when he saw you and he lunged over to the door, feathers in his hair, his whole face a bit unhinged, dropping the pillow from his mouth.

“Dean,” you said when he grabbed your arm and pulled you flush against his chest. “No. We don’t grab. It’s not acceptable.”

He growled and you did it right back, Dean blinking a few times, face blank.

“You can be feral in your room but not the rest of the house. Now eat your dinner,” you said. His scent was rough, eyes staring at your neck, an idea crossing your mind. “Ow!”

You pretended to hold your injured arm, Dean blinking a few more times and looking away before he backed up into his room. 

“Alright. Feral you doesn’t like me hurt. We’ll work with that,” you said. You pushed his plate into the room, Dean staring at it. “Eat dinner. We’ll talk after.”

You headed back downstairs to clean up the pots and pans, jumping when Dean was suddenly standing there.

“I apologize,” said Dean, an empty plate in his hands. You glanced at the clock and shook your head.

“You ate quickly,” you said, Dean stepping past you and washing up the plate before focusing on the other dishes in the sink. “I can take care of that.”

“Part of being an independent adult is doing chores,” he said flatly.

“Yeah and you’re not there yet.” 

“I know how to wash fucking dishes and do chores. I know how to take care of a home and a bunch of other shit. I was a house Alpha...it wasn’t always the truly awful stuff is all I’m saying,” he said. “I know how to take care of a house. I’m really good at it too so if you’re gonna take care of me I’m going to at least pull my weight where I can.”

“You’re in charge of keeping your bedroom and bathroom clean and that is all for now. You made a mess up there. Clean it up. Fresh bedding is in the hall storage across the way and cleaning supplies are in the laundry room over there. That is what I want you to do.”

“Well I’m just gonna rip it up again so what’s the point of giving it to me.”

“Why’d you rip it up in the first place?”

“You’re too trusting of me and it angered me which meant I knew I was going feral so I got out of there and into my room as fast as I could.”

“Good.”

“Good? Lady I just went nuts on about ten throw pillows.”

“The first step in rehabbing a feral Alpha is to get them to understand when they’re about to go feral. You sensed it, got yourself in your safe space and others away from danger. That is remarkable progress for less than one day.”

“I still might rip it up again.”

“Rip it up as many times as you need to,” you said, pushing him aside, taking the pot out of his hands. “Now why did you eat dinner so quickly.”

“I didn’t.”

“You ate an entire plate of food in what, less than five minutes? Did you even enjoy it? All of your main meals will be eaten properly from now on,” you said.

“Y/N. Properly for me has been eat as fast as you can for years. I’m gonna need an update on proper.”

“It means you enjoy your food. Slowly. Depending on the size of the meal it should take at least ten minutes to eat. We can eat together if that’s something you’d like to try,” you said, setting the pot on the mat to dry, shutting off the water. 

“I suppose I can try that.”

“Can we try wearing clothes?” you asked, glancing down. He shook his head and you nodded. “Anger triggers your feral state. You seem to have an easier time speaking completely the farther away from feral you are so I’m going to assume wearing clothes might make you mad.”

He gave a quick nod and you smiled.

“Good. We’re figuring this out. Okay does wearing clothes hurt?” you asked. He thought for a moment, long enough for you to know the answer. “Does touch hurt? Like this?”

You put a careful hand on his muscled bicep, Dean nodding once.

“We didn’t have time to do a full medical or psych eval at the facility. I can handle the psych portion but the physical exam might trigger you.”

“Tranq me,” he said. “So you can safely do your exam.”

“You need to be awake for it,” you said.

“Then restrain me. I’m okay with it.”

“You’re not in a position to consent to being okay to anything.”

“You’re not in a position to tell me what to do yet you keep doing it,” he said. You pursed your lips, Dean throwing his head back. “I know step one of going to a new owner was we got checked out medically. So let’s start with step one. You can’t make me normal until it’s out of the way so let’s get it over with.”

“Go clean your room while I get some supplies.” He went upstairs and you ducked down to the garage, taking out the phone under the drivers seat. You breathed deeply before dialing.

“Hey. How’s he doing?” asked Sam.

“Better than expected actually. We have a long way to go before he’s ready for visitors but he’s trying. I’m giving him his physical tonight. I may need you to get ahold of some medications discreetly for me asap. I know I’ll need Sensalight. I’ll text you a list and dosages.”

“I can get whatever you need. Is he hurt?” he asked quietly.

“I think somewhat. Not visibly. Sensalight is an anti-skin sensitivity medicine. He has pain at touch, slight, but we want to deal with it. I’m sure I’ll find out more. But your brother is still in there Sam. I promise you that. I will get you to see him as soon as he’s ready.”

“Thank you. For giving him a chance. The news said the police are looking for you…when this is all said and done, I can get you a new identity. New everything. You don’t have to be on the run.”

“Thanks Sam. I have a long way to go before I’d even feel comfortable leaving Dean by himself or bringing you by. Any ideas for things that comfort him? I feel like that might really help him out.”

“He liked flannels. And henleys. And pie. And baseball caps. I’ll put some things in the package with the medicine.”

“Thanks Sam. I have to go. I’ll try to call tomorrow night.”

“Anything at all you need, day or night, just call or shoot me an email,” he said. 

“I will. I promise.” You hung up and put the phone away, going to the trunk and grabbing the black square case and the larger red one. You didn’t want to have to do this but he was likely to go feral during the exam. 

The walk upstairs wasn’t long enough, surprised to find Dean’s bedroom tidy and back in order, Dean standing in the middle of the room patiently.

“Dean can you take a seat on floor here,” you said, pointing to the foot of the bed. You left the red case on the bed, opening the black one quietly. “These won’t hurt.”

He didn’t speak, just put his hands behind himself. You slipped one soft cuff around him, the leather band going behind the bed frame support before you attached his other wrist, tugging the bands tight. They were better quality than the ones he’d gotten out of before and Dean instantly shifted as he sensed it too.

“I’m going to start with a skin test. If you’re positive I’m going to give you something that should help very quickly and then we can keep going. It’ll sting a bit.” You wiped a swab over Dean’s forearm and stuck it in the side of the small console in the red case. It beeped after a moment, Dean looking over his shoulder.

“You’re positive for increased skin sensitivity,” you said, ripping open a syringe in the case. “This will help and we’ll get you on medicine to reverse it.”

You stuck the needle into his neck, Dean wincing but after about ten seconds he was smiling.

“Oh. Oh that feels so good,” he said. He shut his eyes and leaned his head back on on the mattress, chuckling to himself. “I feel amazing.”

“That should help with you not being so angry too if you’re not in pain all the time. Any other painful areas before we start?”

“I think I’m good,” he said. You hummed and started to look him over, Dean breathing deeply and relaxing until you touched his cheek, eyes fluttering open.

“How’s your vision?” you asked, holding up a pen light and clicking the button on the side.

“20/20 I think. I had a medical exam about a month back I vaguely recall someone saying,” he said. 

“They say anything else?” you asked, feeling his glands before checking his mouth quickly.

“No that I know. Vision’s really the only part they tend to have us not sedated. Hard to concentrate when you’re feral,” he said. “Pretty sure one number was a twenty though.”

“Alright. Hey the pen says you’re 20/20 still so that’s great,” you said, Dean glancing down to his arm.

“I didn’t even feel you do that,” he said, nodding at the small vial of blood now in your hand.

“I was distracting you,” you said, sliding the vial into the console of the case, letting it work while you finished checking him over. “You look good aside from the recent cuts you got at the rehab facility and a few bruises here and there. I’m going to guess your bloodwork is fairly clean aside from a few medications, most Alphas that come in are.”

“So I take it I passed?” he asked.

“So far. That was the-” you said, the machine beeping off. You read through the print out, closing your eyes.

“That face doesn’t look good.”

“You tested positive for something else. I have to ask because I don’t have a history on you, what kind of Alpha on the market were you? Working house class or the other one?”

“Mostly a house Alpha. Sometimes the other,” he said.

“And when you were in the other, were you aware of what was happening to you?”

“If you’re asking if anyone ever bad touched me, the answer is no. I was no contact.” You blinked and he smirked. “Not what you were expecting.”

“Attractive Alphas on the market almost always are-”

“Too dangerous to let near the little Omegas. I wasn’t broken in for that kind of work and by the time I traded owners, I was too old, too strong. I was marketed for a different use.”

“You’re positive for rut-enhancers.” 

“Some people’s idea of getting off is to send an Alpha into rut and then have him not be able to do a thing about it. Or get off. I don’t think that worked out so well for my last owners,” he said.

“You have trace amounts in your system. When that’s out you’ll have an easier time controlling your feral states. It’ll become more mental then,” you said. “Alright. Tell me about any injuries, any illnesses, anything you can think of that you’ve gotten.”

Three hours later you were laying down in bed down the hall, running a hand over your head. A knock at the door made you jump and you were on your feet, opening it slowly, Dean standing back by the other side of the hall.

“What is it Dean?” 

“I can’t sleep.”

“It’s after eleven. We should really try to go to bed to get you on a regular schedule.”

“I can’t sleep,” he said again. You nodded and he slipped past you, deciding to burrow himself in your sheets, moving the bedding around like he was nest building almost.

“Dean you can’t stay in here.”

He ignored you, curling down into the bed with a big smile on his face. You looked around and sighed, leaving him be while you went to one of the other bedrooms. It was only a few minutes before Dean was coming inside though and you had a hand up.

“Dean. No. We talked about the increased chances of-” you said before he was in bed with you, wrapping his arms around you. He hummed, the biggest smile in the world on his face as he started to drift off. “Shit.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #alpha!dean #alpha!dean x omega!reader #abo #dean winchester fanfic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic

[prettyboykatsuki]

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speakeasy | s. aizawa 

➳ tags ;; dirty talk, smut, fem!reader, aizawa being a menace, mirror sex?, readers wearing a dress, the word violate ?, petnames like good girl, praise kink, fingering etc. 

➳ wc ;; 1.6k

➳ a/n ;; well-spoken men make my brain empty n my kitty wet dslkfjskdf hi mr. aizawa sir.. i like u 

➳ plot ;; aizawa likes to talk you through everything, even filthy mirror sex

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Aizawa is clasically well-spoken. 

He used to get made fun of for it when he was younger - especially in high school where his formal speech felt out of place for his age. The older he gets, the more attractive the quality becomes. He speaks so smoothly - doesn’t stutter when he talks at all. It’s always slow, concise, and to the point. 

The content of what he says matches his tone of voice well. Aizawa is a conversationalist almost by nature. Despite how quiet he is upon meeting him for the first time, if the subject interests - he could harp on about it for hours and hours. He’s just as eager to hear you respond, loves adding to your ideas and building a concept up until it reaches the ceiling.

He’s knowledgeable too. Unsurprisingly, he reads a lot. But he also has a bad habit of deep diving into obscure things. He knows a lot about how clothes are made and the way honeybees fly. He’s a natural at the retention of information - of both the important and unimportant kind. Aizawa makes habit of these things - the ability to speak and communicate anything he wants. 

His vocabulary is vast as seven seas and his voice is pleasant to listen to - a raspy baritone, low in his throat. You could listen to him talk all day. 

The problem only lies with how Aizawa likes to use his voice. Selective by nature, it can’t help but feel purposeful whenever he talks to you this way. You can almost feel the hum of his throat, how it gets. With his hand placed so carefully between your legs - all you can hear is that deep chuckle that he likes to. 

Aizawa is uncharacteristically built. His body is all muscle, and you can feel it against your back as he holds you this chest. Your legs are spread apart over his - seated comfortably in his lap as your being exposed. It doesn’t help that you can’t see him, can only listen to the way he speaks to you. 

His voice is warm as it ghosts the nape of your neck - it smells like spearmint and coffee and sleep. His tongue smooths over the side, sharp teeth sinking into soft flesh as a hand rests your thigh. He massages your legs with a hum - and you squirm at his overbearing presence. 

“You look beautiful today” 

The compliment is well-meaning. You nod absently at it. You dressed up for this date with no expectations, masking your surprise is proving difficult. It’s like he senses it.  

“Why’re you so nervous, love?” 

“You’re.. hands are uhm..” 

He pauses, a free hand settling right at your belly. His knuckles brush over lace panties with a crooked yet lazy grin. You can feel it against your clit. It throbs with anticipation and desire. A wetness forms between your legs, drips like a broken faucet with repetition. You shift your weight around, feeling his cock in the small of your back. 

“My hands? What about them?” 

You want to say something, anything  really but you come up blank. His finger slides underneath the cotton barrier, snaps it against your sex a few times - amused. A little whimper carries through you as his fingers get closer and closer. The mirror in front of you is a terrible reminder of everything. The way Aizawa has you spread apart, the way his tired eyes glaze over your body. Your nipples are stiff underneath your dress - when he pulls the fabric to bunch underneath your tits you yelp. His thumb and forefinger are tender against your nipples as he pinches and twists them. 

All you can see is yourself and him over your shoulder, onxy black locks pulled up out of his vision. 

“Do you not like where my hands are touching you?” 

You moan, soft and sweet as he plays with your tits, shaking your head. It’s a losing game - you’re sure of it. 

‘N-no - ‘s just a lot” 

“That’s good, that’s good. It’d be unreasonable if you dressed like this and told me not to touch you, don’t you think?” 

And you want to respond back about something with bodily autonomy, something coherent and cohesive. But your body is running feverishly high and your mind feels blank. When your dress gets pulled up past your hips, bunching at the top of your thighs - you lose sight of your control. You want to squeeze your eyes closed, embarrassed by the graphic image of his hand. He pulls your panties back - lets it rub between your folds until your slick makes a mess of the light fabric. 

“Shouta, ngh,” 

“I haven’t even touched you yet but you’re drenched,” 

Aizawas hands are strong, pretty too - they look like they fit in your panties just right. His fingers brush the circle of nerves till your back arches, a piercing wave of pleasure that has you crying out his name. Such a small touch is enough to send you reeling as the beginnings of on orgasm snap in your gut. 

It feels like your skin is firing off, blazing heat encompassing you. His fingers are thick as they stretch your hole out, first one then another. He pumps two fingers in your cunt, scissoring it until he feels the tension of the stretch around them. Your insides feels soft against his touch, molded to the shape of his careful hands as your entire body throbs for his touch. Your pussy feels like it’s weeping and your eyes feel hazy. You can see yourself, bearing witness to the way he violates your cunt with ease. 

“Look at your cunt taking me in so good, right there in the mirror, my love” 

And he’s right, you know he is - you can see it with your eyes half-lidded. But your body craves more, even as an orgasm feels like it’s right there. You know you can’t reach it without getting what you need and Aizawa knows that too. You whimper soft in your throat, clenching around his fingers as you whine. It’s good but not good enough - has you grinding your hips back for more. 

“Shouta..” 

Your voice trails off and he smiles at you, chin tucked over your shoulder. 

“Hm? What is it” 

You whine, screwing your eyes closed as he goes faster and faster. You can feel yourself gush around his hands, orgasm impending but not quite there. You hiccup 

“Sho, please” 

“Please what, baby? Use your words and tell me what you want - I can’t read your mind after all,” 

You could argue that he could - that he can right now with how his cock keeps twitching in his pants at the way you moan so shamelessly. Your legs trap his hand as you squeeze them shut - almost crushing his wrist but not being strong enough. Emabrassment drowns your senses. 

“Your cock, Sho -  please” 

His laughter is smug, almost sarcastic. 

“So greedy. You want me to split you apart on it just like this? I didn’t stretch you out yet, arent you afraid I’ll break your pretty little pussy in half?” ― you can feel him push his pants down his thighs as he hoists your hips up with one leg. Suddenly his cock is sitting between your legs, brushing up against your swollen pussy ― “or is that what you wanted in the first me? For me to break you open?” 

The tip throbs right against your clit, sending electricity through you. And you’re begging him again to fuck you. His hand rests on your belly, loving and tender, as the head nudges against your hole. 

“Keep your eyes on it or no cumming, got it?” 

You exhale a shaky breath of confirmation, hear ricocheting against your ribs. And you watch like he asks - watch the way your whole stretches open and tries to accommodate his size. Watch as he penetrates you inch by inch, thick and hard and hot until you feel him against your cervix. Aizawa’s never been particularly big but the way he fills you up makes you think otherwise.

“Does it feel good?” 

You know the question is rhetorical with the way he bounces you on his dick - the smug grin on his face as your expression becomes messy. Skin covered with a sheer of sweet, tits bouncing, feet  kicking as he lifts you by your hips and fucks into you. You can still see yourself in the mirror being taken and it makes everything feel more sweet. 

Delirium is the only thing you can feel as he fucks up into, brushing your cervix with a spare hand on your clit. Pleasure is overbearing emotion, burning a hole in your stomach as heat licks at your calves. You can feel him so fucking deep you can barely breathe. His whispered sweet nothings only add fuel to the fire. Aizawa’s jsut got that voice  - that tone that makes each word of praise go straight to your core. You’re half dressed and getting fucked so hard you feel it in your lungs but all you can hear is Aizawa groaning “good girl” against the shell of your ear. 

“You’re ― shit, haah ― clenching down on me so tight. Are you gonna cum, hm? Gonna cum all over my cock, like a good girl? So fucking pretty aren’t you?” 

Your orgasm knocks into you full force as his words fill your empty head. Convulsing, your spine arches you cum hard and fast all over his cock - still full to the brim. You twitch as you ride it out, slow thrusts making you mewl as he kisses the crown of your head. 

Aizawa hums, soft and low 

“I haven’t finished yet so you’ll have to bear with me. I’m sure you can take it though, right?” 

And you nod your head, thighs trembling. You’re sure with how he speaks to you, Aizawa could convince you of anything at all. 

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#aizawa x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #mdni #aizawa x you #aizawa x y/n #aizawa imagine #bnha imagines #writing tag #spice cake

[booksanxietyandsports]

Stephan Leyhe/Andreas Wellinger - “Like A Fairytale” (fanfic)

okay, this is happening. this is a thing that i wrote that is 9k words long and i am kind of freaking out. i have never written anything in these dimensions before and i’m more nervous than i should be over a fanfic. this is the complete version, even though i already put part one in a different post. but i thought hey, now that it’s done, might as well post the whole thing. this took ages and i probably could’ve drawn this out to be even longer, but i really wanted it online by the end of the season, so here we are! once again, content warnings are in the tags and also once again, i advise you to not spoiler yourself with them. i would never put anything too graphic in my fics! it would mean the world to me if you told me whether you enjoyed this (or if you thought it sucked, idc). have fun and i am possibly sorry in advance. enjoy!

„Alright boys, hit it. Four in this car, three in the other. Play rock paper scissors or whatever, I genuinely do not care. Meet you back at the hotel.”

With that, Horngacher hands Severin the car keys, then turns around and marches towards the building that hosts the big-boss conference. Which isn’t actually a thing. It’s just what Andi has been calling the meeting of the coaches and the officials and god knows who else is attending in his head because he has absolutely no clue what they will be discussing. Not that he particularly cares.

“I’m calling shotgun!” Constantin immediately sprints towards the passenger side of the closest car, cheering as he opens the door, already pulling up Spotify on his phone and connecting it to the AUX cable. He did two amazing jumps earlier and apparently the adrenaline still hasn’t left his system, which means: A lot of bad 2010 pop songs during the car ride and a singing Consti in the passenger seat.

Andi’s always up for that party.

“I’m driving the baby,” he announces, snatching the car keys from Severin. “Not a baby!” Constantin yells distractedly through the open passenger door, scrolling through his playlist. “Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Karl says, grabbing the keys to the other car out of Severin’s hand and making his way to the driver’s side.

While the others discuss the rest of the car ride arrangement, Andi takes a step closer to Stephan, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet since the competition, even for him. They’re used to Stephan being the perfect picture of quiet contentment after a solid performance, but it’s usually accompanied by a soft smile and a quick laugh at his teammate’s jokes.

Today, there are lines on Stephan’s forehead and Andi doesn’t like it.

“You alright?” he asks quietly, standing directly in front of his best friend. Stephan looks up at him and nods. “Just a headache,” he says, managing a tired smile. “I’m gonna skip the carpool karaoke, though. Seems kind of counterproductive.” Andi nods in agreement, maintaining eye contact. “I can drive with you, if you want?”

Stephan’s smile turns a bit more genuine. He pats Andi’s side in a grateful gesture. “Sweet of you to offer,” he says, “but you did great today and I know how much you actually enjoy singing along to One Direction in the car with Consti. Go on. Drive safely.” “We listened to One Direction once-“ Andi starts to protest, but stops mid-sentence when Stephan’s eyes crinkle with laughter. “Whatever you say, sunshine. See you back at the hotel? We could-“ Stephan stops himself, carefully schooling his face into a more neutral expression. “We could grab something to eat and- and read? For a bit? If you didn’t have any other plans, that is.”

Instead of an answer, Andi’s hands go up to fix the neckline of Stephan’s jacket. He’s impressed Stephan has worked up the courage to ask – not to read his book, not exactly, because that seems to have become a codeword for the weird little routine they have fallen into sometime in the middle of the season. It went a little bit like this: Stephan (loving to read) couldn’t find a comfortable reading position on the, admittedly terrible, hotel beds in Innsbruck. Andi (loving physical contact) opened his arms and let Stephan use him as a pillow and also as a book stand.

It works. They’ve spent most of their evenings like this since then; Andi dozing off or watching a show on his tablet with earphones in, Stephan snuggled into his side, reading quietly, even though he never asks for it. Andi’s aware the older doesn’t like to ask for things, which is why they don’t talk about it. Andi wordlessly opens his arms, Stephan carefully places himself at Andi’s side with a content sigh and that’s the end of it.

Which is exactly the reason why Andi’s getting wary about Stephan’s “just a headache.” If Stephan’s desperate enough to ask for a quiet evening with him, then that’s telling him a lot about his teammate’s state of exhaustion. So what’s he gonna do? Say no?

“Of course we can,” he says softly, “whatever you want. Meet you at the hotel.” Andi leans down, presses a quick kiss to Stephan’s check and looks back at the others, who seem to have come to a decision. Markus skips over to them, slings an arm around Andi’s shoulders and starts pulling him in direction of the car. “Let’s go, Welle. Get ready to fight Consti over the music choice.” Markus climbs into the backseat while Constantin channels his inner Celine Dion with “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now.” Pius and Severin collect Stephan and make their way to Karl, who is already waiting in the car, ready to go. Stephan looks back over his shoulder at Andi, who winks.

“We’ll be at the hotel first!” he calls after them. Stephan laughs and Severin turns around. “Of course you will,” he deadpans. “Karl is driving. He’s slower than Pius in the inrun.” “Now hold on a second-“ Pius protests and shoves Severin against the car. The oldest laughs and opens the door, climbing into the backseat. The rest of their conversation is drowned out by Constantin’s and Markus’ singing as Andi occupies the driver’s side, adjusting the seat to his long legs.

“There were nights of endless pleasure-“ Constantin yells dramatically.

“-it was more than all your laws allow!” Markus continues, grabbing Consti’s shoulders from the seat behind him. Andi laughs and starts the car, joining in with the chorus.

“Baby, baby, baby when you touch me like this-“

X

 It’s a lot quieter in the other car. Karl is softly humming along to whatever song’s on the radio. Severin and Pius are still busy discussing the mystery of Pius’ non-existent inrun speed in the backseat. Stephan rests his head against the window and sighs, eyes closed.

Karl looks at him briefly. “You okay, Stephan?” he asks, turning his attention back to the road, even though the streets are pretty deserted. Karl has always been the most careful driver out of all of them, and with the snow and ice on the road he’s driving extra slowly. Stephan doesn’t mind.

“I’m good,” he answers and opens his eyes to look at the snow-covered fields around them, the trees beyond also decked with white. Their hotel is a good thirty-minute drive from the hill, but the scenery has something magical about it, like something out of a fairy tale. “It’s just a headache,” he repeats what he told Andi earlier. Karl raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve got some aspirin, if you want,” Pius pipes up from behind Stephan, sneaking a hand through the gap between headrest and window to squeeze Stephan’s shoulder. “I think I’ll manage for now,” Stephan declines and reaches up to pat Pius’ hand. “Thank you, though. Maybe I’ll come back to you later.”

He doesn’t add that a quiet afternoon with Andi and his book is probably going to be more helpful than all the aspirin in the world. He’s been particularly stressed before today’s competition, although he can’t quite put his finger on why that is. He woke up in the morning with an uncomfortable pressure behind his eyes, despite getting a full eight hours of sleep. His jumps were good, or so he’s been told, but the usual feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment just wouldn’t set in. Instead, the headache has been getting worse and Stephan just really, really wants his bed, his book, and Andi’s arms.

He’s not going to get what he wants.

X

“-and when you smile at the ground it ain’t hard to tell, you don’t know, oh-oh! You don’t know you’re beautiful, oh-oh!”

“That’s what makes you beautiful!” Constantin finishes, air-drumming the final beats of the song. Markus shakes his head in the backseat. “I can’t believe I let you play One Direction in this car,” he sighs. Constantin turns in his seat to beam at the older. “That’s because you love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

Andi snorts. “I don’t care how much you two love each other; we do not tell Stephan that we sang One Direction in the car.”

“Oh, I will tell Stephan you guys sang One Direction in the car. I was just a victim. Dammit, I should’ve recorded this,” Markus says, putting his face in his hands. “As evidence.”

“With what?” Consti laughs. “You never take your phone anywhere! Remember when you got into an argument with- who was it? One of the Austrians? You got in the car with them and drove to their hotel because you were so busy with talking!”

Markus opens his mouth, then shuts it. “That,” he explains carefully, “was one time. I’ll have you know it was a very intense battle of me and Krafti against Michi Hayböck, the freaking Barca fan. Imagine thinking ter Stegen is a better keeper than Neuer. Utterly delusional.”

Andi looks at him in the rearview mirror. “No one was able to reach you for three hours,” he deadpans. “Karl was literally about to call the police because you didn’t answer your damn phone. We thought you were kidnapped or something.”

“They’d bring him back voluntarily,” Constantin mumbles while he scrolls through his playlist. “Fifteen minutes, max.”

Andi laughs as Markus leans forward between the two front seats and smacks the youngest with his beanie. “Listen, you little shit,” he starts, “it would be a delight to kidnap me. You would be the one they’d want to get rid of because of your questionable taste in mus- Andi watch out!”

It’s too late.

Wrong lane, Andi thinks, staring right into the headlights of an approaching truck. That vehicle is not supposed to be there.

Yanking the steering wheel to the right is a reflex, not a conscious decision.

The snow is pretty, Andi thinks as they go flying off the road. The trees are covered with it. Kind of like a fairy tale.

The sound of their car crashing against a tree is the last thing he hears for a while.

X

Someone’s knocking on the door to their hotel room. Stephan’s halfway through undressing in order to take a shower, so he quickly grabs a shirt off the bed and pulls it over his head. Probably Andi, he thinks. Forgot his keys again. Wouldn’t be the first time.

When they’d arrived at the hotel earlier, they’d wondered how the hell they’d made it there before the others. Karl had taken it as an opportunity to defend his driving skills. Severin had figured the others got so distracted by the carpool karaoke that Andi took a wrong turn somewhere. Wouldn’t be the first time, either.

When Stephan opens the door, however, he’s met with a mildly distressed looking Karl. Stephan raises an eyebrow. “Are you-“

“Have you heard from the others?” Karl interrupts him, grip tight around his phone.

“Uh, no? Should I have?”

Karl bites his lower lip. “I’m getting worried,” he admits. “We’ve been here for a good forty minutes already, and you’re telling me Welle took that many wrong turns?”

That is, admittedly, somewhat unusual. Neither Andi, nor Consti or Markus have the best sense of direction, but so far Andi has always texted or called or somehow let anyone know he got lost. Markus is another story entirely but knowing him, his phone is probably placed uselessly on his nightstand. Stephan’s headache intensifies.

“They’ll be fine!” Severin yells from down the hall.

Karl frowns in the general direction of Severin’s voice, then turns back to Stephan. “I just have a feeling. Eisei’s phone is in our room. Will you please call Andi? He always answers when you call.”

That’s true. Andi does always answer when it’s Stephan who’s calling. Stephan is convinced it’s because Andi knows he’d never call him without a good reason. The others think a bit differently, but they don’t tell him that.

Stephan leaves Karl standing in the hallway and goes to retrieve his phone from his bed. “Have you tried calling Andi or Consti?” he calls back to Karl, who nods. Severin appears next to Karl, Pius right behind him. Stephan pulls up Andi’s contact and presses call. There’s a weird feeling in his chest, something he can’t quite place. Even his headache dulls in comparison.

It’s fine, he tells himself. Karl is being paranoid. There’s no reason to assume anything bad has happened. They’re just a little later than usual. So what? Knowing those three, they probably stopped somewhere to have a snowball fight.

The pressure on his chest grows stronger with every dial tone. Pius is holding his phone to his ear as well. “Consti,” he mouths, then shakes his head when no one answers the call.

“This is the voicemail of Andi Wellinger. Please leave a me-“

Stephan hangs up.

X

When Andi wakes up, his first thought is that he’s cold, incredibly so. His teeth are chattering and he’s shaking all over - possibly because there is snow inside the car, falling in through the massive hole in the windshield.

Wait, what?

It comes back in pieces. The bright headlights of the truck on the wrong side of the road, the momentum of the car flying into the snowy ditch by the side of the street pressing him back into his seat, the whiplash of the impact throwing him forward against the dashboard.

Andi can feel the ache in his neck. He doesn’t dare move for a few seconds and has to force himself to keep his breathing under control. Panicking won’t help. He carefully wiggles his fingers and toes, relieved when he can feel them move despite the cold. His shaky exhale comes out in a cloud and fogs up the driver’s side window.

“Andi?”

Slowly, Andi turns his head to the right. His neck protests at the movement, but the pain quickly fades into the background when he catches sight of Constantin. There are tear tracks on the younger’s face, eyes red and wide. He looks terrified.

Andi clears his throat, eyes roaming over the other’s body to check for visible injuries. “You hurt?” he asks, voice rough. Consti closes his eyes, pressing his lips together as fresh tears start coming.

“You were unconscious and you didn’t wake up and I tried, I tried to get you to talk to me but you didn’t and-“

“Constantin. Are. You. Hurt.”

Consti shakes his head. “My shoulder hurts and I can’t move my right arm too much. Despite that I’m- I’m okay. But Markus-“

Andi doesn’t let him finish that sentence, fumbles to remove his seatbelt and gingerly turns around in his seat. His breathing catches when he sees the older in the backseat, slumped against the window, the right side of his face covered in blood.

No. No no no no no.

“Fuck,” he curses, trying to reach his teammate to feel for a pulse. Panic makes the movement frantic and pain shoots through his ribs, a sharp, electric stab like a knife in his lungs. His vision darkens for a second and slowly, he leans back against his seat, attempting to breathe through it. “Markus,” he tries as soon as the pain subsides, voice breaking. “Hey, Eisei. Come on. Wake up.”

“I tried that,” Constantin says quietly. “It’s not working. Something’s wrong.” The younger’s left hand is gripping his right arm tightly, trying to minimize the movement of his shoulder. Andi reaches out and rests his hand on Consti’s thigh, squeezing lightly. “How long do you think were we out?”

Constantin attempts a shaky smile. “About thirty minutes, maybe? I wasn’t, though. Out.”

Andi blanks for a second. His grip on Consti’s thigh tightens. “You were- You were conscious this whole time?”

Consti nods, lips pressed together. He carefully removes his left hand from his right elbow to take Andi’s hand in his, holding on tightly. “I was… kind of dazed, I think? For a couple of minutes. And then- neither of you were waking up, you know? No matter how hard I tried, you didn’t react and I- I thought-“ He stops himself. “I didn’t hit my head too badly because you- you threw your arm across my chest right when we flew off the road. It kept me from crashing against the dashboard.”

Andi’s eyes widen. “I did?” He doesn’t remember. He vaguely recalls tightening his grip on the steering wheel in a desperate attempt to hold the car stable, but he doesn’t remember giving up control over the car in favour of protecting his younger teammate.

“You did,” Consti replies softly. “Thank you. For that. But we need to-“ He inhales shakily, trying to keep his composure. “We need to help Markus.”

Andi looks back at Markus and tries not to flinch at the sight of all the blood. The older’s face is pale, lips turning blue. We need to get him out, Andi realizes. Now. And Consti and me too, or we’ll freeze.

Or something worse will happen to Markus, a little voice in his head tells him. If it hasn’t already.

Andi ignores it.

“Phone,” he says urgently. “Consti, where’s your phone?”

Constantin lifts his shoulders in a helpless gesture and hisses when he remembers his right one. “It’s not in here. Must’ve gotten catapulted out of the car on impact. I can’t get out on my side, there’s too much snow. The door won’t open and…,” his voice gets quieter towards the end. “Barely anyone has driven by since this happened. Three cars total, maybe, and we’re too far from the road for them to notice.”

“Fuck, okay. Mine’s in my- in my front pocket, let me just-“ Andi pauses when he catches sight of something next to the gas pedal. No, he thinks, no, no, please. He quickly leans down to grab his phone, ribs screaming at the sudden movement. Constantin looks at him with wide eyes. “Shit Andi, are you okay?”

“Ribs,” Andi pants, “and neck. I’m okay, but this is…”

He holds up his phone, screen cracked and essentially snapped in half. “New plan,” he says, catching Consti’s eye. “We need to get out of here and make sure Markus is-“

Not dead.

He swallows around the lump in his throat before he continues. “Make sure Markus is okay. And then we look for your damn phone. Think you can do that?”

Constantin nods, pale but determined.

“Let’s go.”

X

Karl has been pacing the length of the room for the past fifteen minutes and it’s driving Stephan nuts.

It’s not like he doesn’t get it, because he does. There’s a nervous humming in his whole body, a restlessness that tells him to get up, throw something, punch the wall, anything.

Instead, he’s been sitting on the edge of the bed this whole time, back straight, staring out the window at nothing in particular. The snowfall has picked up a while ago, which doesn’t reassure Stephan in the slightest. It’s been close to two hours since they arrived at the hotel, still no trace of the others. Pius has been checking the local news for reports of any accidents every two minutes, but nothing turned up.

Which is good, Stephan supposes, but it’s not exactly helpful either. They’re still missing. Andi is still missing.

The thought brings the humming inside him to a maximum until his hands start shaking and he feels like throwing up. There’s an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into someone’s side – Severin, who doesn’t look as unconcerned anymore as he did earlier. Karl is still pacing.

“Will you stop that?” Stephan snaps and immediately feels bad when Karl freezes on the spot. “Sorry,” he apologizes and drops his head in his hands. The headache has been getting worse. A thrumming had started behind his eyes as he’d called Andi again and again and again until Severin had carefully taken Stephan’s phone from his hands and refused to give it back. “I’m on phone duty,” the oldest had said. “Take a break, Stephan. I’ll answer when he calls.”

When he calls. Not if. When. Stephan clings to that little word.

“Pius,” he says quietly without looking up, “I’d take that aspirin now, if the offer still stands.” Not that he thinks it’ll help. The only one he knows could help him for sure is god knows where. Not here. Not where he should be. Pius nods and attempts a small smile at Stephan, but it falls flat, so he leaves to get the aspirin from his room.

“We should call the police,” Karl suggests, not for the first time this afternoon, sliding down the wall and hugging his knees to his chest. Severin sighs, still holding Stephan close to his side, and rubs his arm up and down in an attempt at comfort. Stephan tries to feel comforted. He fails.

“The police won’t do anything,” Severin answers, also not for the first time today. Even if his replies are patient, his voice has been getting more tense every time Karl brings up involving the police. “They’re grown adults and we don’t have anything that would lead the police to believe something has happened besides your bad feeling, Karl, and our word that this is highly unusual for the guys. They won’t help.”

“We should’ve driven back when it was still light out,” Pius says softly as he returns to the room and hands Stephan the aspirin. He goes back to leaning against the window, where the sun is barely visible on the horizon.

“Too late for that now,” Stephan mumbles, and he hates every word. Why didn’t they drive back to look for them? Why did they spent the last hour sitting around uselessly, worrying more and more with every passing minute?

Because stuff like this doesn’t happen, Stephan tells himself. Not in real life anyways. This would be a tragic plot point in a novel. An unforeseen twist in a romcom, at the end of which the two protagonists happily reunite under tears in the hospital, both safe and sound. It’s not something that happened to people he knows. People he cares about. Someone he loves.

But the blissful bubble of denial burst a long time ago, and Stephan is slowly starting to expect the worst. And judging from Karl’s curled up position against the wall, Pius’ frown reflected in the window and Severin’s tightening grip on his arm, so are they.

X

“I’m going to crawl in behind the driver’s seat and get him out from this side, alright? I’ll need your help with his legs, though. I can try and protect his head, but I can’t carry him alone like this.”

Constantin nods, then frowns, still holding his right arm. “Are you sure you can get him out with your ribs and all that? I don’t want you to get hurt any more. Maybe I should do it.”

“Better my ribs than your arm,” Andi mumbles, too quietly for Constantin to hear, then takes a deep breath and begins to climb into the backseat. If he’s being honest, he isn’t exactly sure about the extent of his injuries. His neck seems to be doing okay as long as he moves his head slowly, but his ribs are a completely different story. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to move, and Andi can only hope none of them are broken. He also must’ve tried to slam the brakes at some point during the crash, because in the attempt of getting out of the car himself, his right foot had given out more often than he’d like to admit.

He doesn’t tell Constantin that. The younger seems to have avoided any major injuries, but his shoulder had given him more than enough trouble when he’d climbed out of the driver’s side of the car. And with his right arm essentially useless, Andi sure as hell isn’t going to make him pull Markus out of the wreck. His ribs would have to manage.

Their oldest had certainly taken the worst of it. The blood has dried to an almost blackish colour, which contrasts eerily with the pale white of Markus’ face. As Andi carefully unbuckles Markus’ seatbelt, he sends a quiet thanks to whatever higher power is listening that the window Markus is slumped against didn’t break on impact. He’s not too keen on pulling glass shards out of Markus’ eye. Andi slowly maneuvers the smaller man onto his lap and winces when his ribs protest. “Consti,” he pants, “take his legs. And then move backwards – slowly – until I can put down his head once he’s outside.”

Constantin makes a vaguely confirming noise and gathers Markus’ legs against his left side, trapping them between his body and his left arm. Andi puts one hand around Markus’ shoulders, the other under his head and tries to hold him steady. There’s blood coating his left hand and even though he’s never had a problem with seeing blood - He was a clumsy, lanky kid. There were a lot of skinned knees and various wounds in his childhood – this is a vastly different situation. This isn’t a paper cut. This is a possibly fatal wound to the head. One of his best friends’ heads. And the blood is on his hands, literally and- figuratively too, Andi realizes as he looks down at Markus’ pale face. He drove the car. It was him behind the steering wheel. It was him who landed them in a ditch against a tree. Maybe, if he’d paid more attention, he would’ve seen the truck earlier and he could’ve… he doesn’t know. Done something that didn’t end with Markus bloody and concussed and unconscious.

The world tilts before his eyes.

“Welli?” Constantin’s voice reaches him through the fog in his head. “Not to rush you or anything, but Eisei’s legs are getting kind of heavy.”

Andi blinks away the tears and shoves down the panic that threatens to climb up his throat. “I got him,” he replies and slowly, so very slowly they pull Markus out of the car. He’s their smallest teammate, but the unconsciousness makes him heavy, like dead weight between them.

This must be what carrying a body feels like, Andi realizes and immediately regrets the thought because now, the image is stuck in his head.

Together, they carefully lower Markus to the ground. Andi’s ribs burn at the exertion and a sharp twinge shoots up his leg when he tries to step on his right foot, but he somehow manages to sink down to the ground on his left leg and prop himself up against the car, Markus’ head bedded on his lap. Thank his therapists for the hundreds of single-leg-squats they made him do in rehab.

The second their oldest is safely on the ground Constantin is on his knees beside him, pressing two fingers to Markus’ neck. Andi forgets how to breathe.

“There’s a pulse,” Constantin exhales shakily, “but I can barely feel it. He’s cold, he’s- isn’t there a blanket in the car?” He pushes himself to his feet and hastily goes to open the trunk, but Andi still catches sight of the tears in the younger’s eyes.

He checks for a pulse, too, because he needs the reassurance that Markus is alive and when he watches closely, he can see the older’s chest moving up and down with slow breaths.

The relief is bittersweet and doesn’t last long. The panic he’s tried so hard to shove down washes over him like a wave and suddenly, all he can feel is Markus’ head on his lap and the blood on his hands.

Andi is completely out of his depths. His knowledge of head injuries is very much limited to the time Karl walked square into a glass door, which resulted in a mild headache and a purple bruise on his forehead. Andi’s only task then was to get the older an ice pack and some ibuprofen.

He’s confident neither of those things will help Markus now.

Constantin returns with a blanket and starts wrapping it around the unconscious man on the ground, tucking it around his body and prodding at him to make sure he’s all covered. The younger’s eyes keep flickering up to Markus’ face, monitoring him closely. “How bad do you think it is? That he’s not waking up?”

It takes Andi a moment to snap out of it and realise Constantin is talking to him. The younger is looking at him expectantly, all-wide eyed and anxious and Andi desperately wishes for one of their older teammates to be here. Preferably conscious. “He’s breathing,” he says in lieu of an actual answer. “That’s better than- than if he were not breathing. It can’t be that bad if he’s still breathing.” It sounds stupid even to his own ears and Constantin shoots him a deadpan look from where he’s sitting next to them, holding onto Markus’ hand under the blanket. “Delightful analysis, Sherlock. But you’re not wrong, I guess. Can we just leave him here while we search for my phone, though? What if he, like, stops breathing and we’re not here to notice?”

Andi’s stomach turns at the thought of getting up again. The pain in his chest has faded into a dull ache a while ago, which makes it much easier to get distracted by his throbbing ankle. He attempts a smile at Consti and hopes the younger doesn’t notice how shaky it is. “Eisei would quite literally kill us if we stayed down here in the snow just to monitor his breathing. Finding that phone is our only shot at getting help. Greater chance at finding it when it’s both of us looking for it.”

“True,” Constantin answers, then stands up and looks down at Markus. “But I still don’t like it.”

Together, they carefully lift Markus’ head from Andi’s lap and bed it on his backpack. Consti adjusts the blanket, then holds out his left hand to help Andi up from the ground and frowns at the pained noise he makes as he pulls himself onto his feet. “You sure you’re doing okay?”

Andi grits his teeth and squeezes Consti’s hand once before letting go, purposefully standing up straighter than his ribs can handle. “Peachy. Let’s find that phone.”

Don’t do this, a voice in his head says as Constantin starts going around the car to look for his phone. The voice is gentle and sounds suspiciously like Stephan. Don’t pretend you’re fine when you’re not. Tell Constantin. Take care of Markus.

Don’t tell me what to do. Like you’re any better with your headache. You didn’t tell anyone either.

That’s different. You should sit down. Walking isn’t going very well.

The Stephan in his head is right. The world starts swimming the moment Andi puts weight on his right foot and he doesn’t even make it two steps. The time he’s spent sitting on the ground hasn’t done anything for him – quite the contrary, actually. His legs are shaking beneath him, barely supporting his weight. Andi becomes acutely aware of the cold. His vision goes blurry for a second and he has to grab the car to hold him up. Constantin seems to be miles away.

Sit the fuck down, Andreas.

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” Andi yells. “Shut UP! I have to find this fucking phone so Markus doesn’t fucking die!”

He vaguely registers Consti’s confused call from the other side of the car and his ankle is throbbing in hot pain while the rest of him is freezing and he’s losing his damn mind-

“Forgot mine on my nightstand, sorry,” someone mumbles and it takes Andi a solid ten seconds to realise it’s Markus, speech slightly slurred and Bavarian dialect thick. “I’d also haunt the shit out of you if I died. After Karl, though. God how fucking funny would it be to haunt him, can you imagine? The man wouldn’t- wouldn‘t sleep another night for the rest of his life-“

Andi collapses onto his knees and feels the impact vibrate painfully in every single one of his injured ribs, but he can’t bring himself to care. He crawls the short distance to Markus, who looks at him with half-lidded eyes, face still white as a sheet. “Don’t move,” Andi chokes out when Markus tries to sit up. “Don’t move. How’s your head?”

Markus’ eyes flutter shut a few times before he manages to keep them open longer than a few seconds. “Terrible,” he whispers, and Andi has to strain to hear him. “Hurts worse than when Sevi sings in the shower.” The older frowns when he notices the tears on Andi’s cheek. He slowly raises a hand to Andi’s face and clumsily attempts to wipe them away, but his movements are jerky and uncoordinated. He misses Andi’s cheek a few times, then seems to decide his arm is too heavy for him to hold up. His eyes close again. “Stay awake,” Andi begs and takes the other’s hand in his own. “Eisei, hey. Tell me more about how you’d haunt Karl.”

Then Constantin stumbles around the car and almost face-plants into the snow. “Are you okay? I heard you yelling, who were you talk- oh my god, is he awake?!” He falls onto his knees on Markus’ other side, who manages to open his eyes long enough to look at the youngest. Consti sobs in relief. “I’d make so many scary noises,” Markus slurs. Constantin looks at Andi in confusion. “Karl hates scary noises. He startles so easily. Like howling at night and rustling his curtains. Do you think I can…” he trails off, eyes falling shut again. “Can what? What, Markus? Stay with us, can you do what?” There’s an edge of desperation in Andi’s voice, because a talking Markus is even better than a breathing Markus because it means consciousness and enough brain function to form sentences and not dead.

“Do you think I can still- still move things when I’m a ghost? No fun if I can’t touch stuff.”

“No one here ends up as a ghost,” Consti says determinedly, aggressively wiping away his own tears with his left hand. “Not today, not tomorrow, not anywhere in the near future. And not on my watch.”

There’s the barest hint of a smile on Markus’ lips as he slowly slips back into unconsciousness. “You’re doing so well,” he whispers. “So well, both of you. Kind of annoying how well you two are. Doing. You two- love you…”

He stops talking. Andi goes very still. Constantin’s face loses all colour.

Markus doesn’t open his eyes again.

X

Stephan is wearing Andi’s shirt.

He hasn’t noticed before, hours ago when he hastily threw on the nearest piece of clothing just so he didn’t have to answer his door half-naked. Hours ago, when he still thought everything was fine.

But the shirt on his body is Andi’s, one size too big for Stephan himself, bottom hem so far down it almost looks like a dress, Andi’s merchandise logo prominent on the chest. It also smells like him.

Somehow, that makes everything worse.

Stephan hasn’t really moved in the past thirty minutes, not in the way the others have. Pius went to get them something to eat a while ago, even though Stephan would rather jump off the balcony than force food down his throat right now. Severin has been periodically trying to reach their coach, but Horngacher doesn’t answer his phone. Still in the conference, moved on to drinking with the other officials, Stephan doesn’t know and doesn’t care.

Karl looks so tense Stephan fears he’s about to snap. Karl is relaxed on most days, occasionally anxious, and scary when he’s mad.

He is terrifying when he’s worried. Which is why Stephan feels a little bit sorry for whatever poor soul that happens to be employed by the local police is on the other end of the line. Karl has been arguing with at least three different police officers in the past twenty minutes, and all Stephan has gathered so far is that yes, they will call as soon as any accidents are reported and no, they can’t send someone out looking for people that aren’t actually missing and sir, please just go to sleep and your friends will probably be back in the morning.

Karl doesn’t shout, because he never does. He calmly thanks police officer number three, who should count his blessings that he’s not in the same room as Karl, then hangs up and motions to throw the phone against the wall.

“Do not,” Stephan says quietly without looking up from the floor. “You don’t want your phone in pieces when they call.”

Pius returns with a couple sandwiches and some fruit. It remains untouched.

Stephan’s head is still swimming. The aspirin has done absolutely nothing for him.

Severin tries to get them to eat something. Karl indulges him and eats half an apple, then throws up ten minutes later in the bathroom. Stephan shakes himself out of the trance he’s been in ever since Karl knocked on their door and follows his teammate into the bathroom.

He might not be able to help the other three, but redirecting his worry at someone present, someone he can touch, is blessedly distracting. So, he rubs circles into Karl’s back as the older kneels on the cold floor, and he fills a cup with water for him to rinse his mouth with. Severin and Pius appear in the bathroom a few minutes later. “You okay, bud?” Severin asks Karl, whose pale face matches the white tiles. “Been better,” he answers, takes a deep breath and hunches in on himself to make his head fit on Stephan’s shoulder.

Stephan leans back against the sink and wraps his arms around his shaking friend in a loose hug. Physical comfort was never his forte. Between the two of them, Andi has always played that part: the tight hugs and firm hands and back rubs and head scratches. Stephan has always been the one to provide comfort with carefully chosen words, but tonight even that seems to fail him.

Severin leans back against the doorframe, head in his hands. “I’m going crazy,” he mumbles and Pius nods in agreement, wrapping his arms around himself. Karl is still clinging to Stephan, whose ever active mind scrambles for something to do besides the endless waiting and hoping.

He comes up empty. He rubs small circles into Karl’s waist with his thumbs. He stands and stares at the shower curtain. He closes his eyes and lets his head rest against Karl when the harsh bathroom light hurts his eyes and intensifies his headache.

Faintly, in the other room, a phone starts ringing.

X

“Pick up pick up pick up-“

“Consti?!”

Andi sees the exact moment all the tension leaves Constantin’s body at the sound of Severin’s voice. The younger closes his eyes and sobs, drowning out the frantic stream of words coming from the other end of the line. Andi carefully grabs Consti’s hand and holds on tight, tears spilling down his cheeks. The flashing lights of the ambulance up by the road cast a blue shadow over both of them and it’s making Andi dizzy.

“Consti, thank God. Hey! Are you guys okay? Constantin! Answer me!” Severin sounds slightly hysterical, which isn’t a tone of voice Andi ever thought he’d hear Severin use. Not their calm, collected Severin.

Constantin takes a deep, shaky breath before he manages to reply. “They took Markus,” he whispers, voice rough and breaking. Andi squeezes his hand. “They took him away to the hospital first because- cause, it’s something with head trauma? And lots of blood. We don’t know how he-. They’re sending a second ambulance for us. Andi is with me, we’re, uh. Really fucking cold, actually. But we’re okay, I think. Mostly.”

Consti looks skeptically at Andi, who gives a confirming nod and attempts a smile, even though he’s feeling the absolute furthest from fine. Moving his head hurts, breathing is getting harder by the minute and he dreads the moment the paramedics come back for them to get them out of the ditch, because that requires getting up. One of them stayed behind and is currently searching through the medical bag to find something to stabilise his ankle with, while the others whisked away Markus as soon as the seriousness of his condition became apparent. They haven’t heard from him since.

There’s a few beats of silence on the other end of the line, then a bit of rustling before Pius’ voice sounds through the speaker, shaky and hoarse. “Consti, what happened? We’re worried sick.”

“Car accident. Some stupid truck driver was driving on the wrong side of the road and Welle didn’t have a chance to react.”

Andi flinches.  

“The alternative was crashing head-on into the truck,” Constantin continues, and now that he’s started speaking, he can’t seem to stop. “The road was slippery, too, with all the ice and snow and whatnot-“

Andi’s vision goes dark around the edges.

“- and fuck, Pius, it was- no it’s just my shoulder, I really am okay- yes I’m crying, leave me alone. We haven’t heard from Markus but we’ll ask about him as soon as the other ambulance gets here-“

Someone flips a switch and the air in Andi’s lungs is replaced by a pain so sharp he feels like someone’s stabbed him with a knife, right between his ribs. He sucks in a desperate breath. No oxygen reaches his lungs.

“…we’ll meet you guys at the hospital, then?”

The knife twists.

“- tell Stephan Andi’s okay, he’s alive and- God, he saved me, he- Welle?”

Andi’s grip on Constantin is tight, fingernails buried in the palm of the younger’s hand, so deeply he draws blood. Had there been any oxygen left in his lungs to fuel his brain, he would’ve felt bad. There isn’t, though, so Andi roughly points to his chest and tries to breathe, come on, breathe, but he might as well have been drowning.

“No no no Andi no, hey you! Something’s wrong with him, help! Andi don’t do this to me, not you too, please…someone do something, please! Andi, fuck-“

Andi dimly registers his younger teammate sobbing into the phone; frantic voices talking over each other out of the speaker, but the sounds are muted, like he’s hearing them from under a thick blanket. There’s someone else at his side, pushing an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, telling him something he can’t hear. The paramedic, his brain supplies helpfully through the haze of the panic, and Andi manages a last look at Constantin’s horrified face before everything goes black.

X

The fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway are worse than the hotel bathroom lights. Stephan squints against the harsh brightness and tries, once again, to blink the dots out of his vision, which have been there since the phone call came. He feels like he’s on the constant verge of blacking out, lightheaded and with a persistent ringing in his ears, but the universe seems determined to keep him conscious through every torturous second of this horrible, horrible night.

They have been sitting on some uncomfortable chairs designed for waiting and despair for at least forty minutes by now, but no one’s told them anything yet. Karl has gotten up to get coffee three separate times, and each time he’s returned without any cups. Stephan hasn’t spoken a single word since they left the hotel in a hurry to get to the hospital. Severin keeps shooting him worried glances, and Stephan imagines what he must look like in Andi’s oversized merch and a quickly thrown on Germany jacket that’s way too thin for the temperature outside, curled up on two of the chairs, staring at the wall. Not much has happened since Constantin called them and assured them everyone was still alive; except they didn’t know about Markus’ condition. Not much has happened since a tight rope of fear and anxiety and worry had wound its way around Stephan’s heart and squeezed every little ounce of hope out of it when Constantin’s tone had turned from relieved to worried to panicked because apparently, the universe not only needed him to suffer through this consciously, no, it also wanted him to witness the sounds of Andi’s gasping breaths over the phone, unable to do anything except sit frozen on the hotel bed and keep breathing when Andi couldn’t.

A door opens down the hall. Constantin steps out into the hallway, face red and blotchy from crying, right arm in a sling and a blanket around his shoulders. Severin and Pius are up and at his side in an instant, wrapping the youngest in a careful hug and guiding his head to rest on Severin’s shoulder. Constantin clings to Pius’ hoodie like his life depends on it. Stephan feels himself tearing up, too, and when Sevi and Pius bring Consti over to Karl and him, Stephan hugs the younger fiercely.

“You’re shaking,” Constantin whispers against him and tightens his one-armed grip. “Have you heard anything from Andi and Markus?”

Stephan peels himself out of the hug and mutely shakes his head. Karl takes his turn to hug Constantin and when he finally lets go, Severin is there to wipe the tears off Consti’s cheeks. He tucks the youngest into his side after and sits them both down on the hard plastic chairs.

Constantin then recalls the entirety of the accident. He fills them in on every small detail, things Stephan never wants to hear again. Of course Andi would put his arm across the passenger seat in a situation like this. Of course he’d prioritize his teammates well-being over his own. And of course he wouldn’t tell Consti he wasn’t feeling well until he fucking collapsed on the phone for all of them to hear.

Stephan is going to kick his ass once he’s allowed to see him. And once he’s made sure Andi is alive with his own two eyes.

Karl’s leg is bouncing up and down restlessly by the time Constantin finishes. “So Markus is-“ he starts, then trails off. Stephan gets it. Consti does, too. He shrugs helplessly. “He was conscious for a short time and then he- wasn’t anymore. There was so much blood, Karl, I don’t-“

“Are you guys here for Markus Eisenbichler and Andreas Wellinger?”

They haven’t noticed the doctor approaching them, but there he stands, and Stephan unconsciously grabs Karl’s hand to ground himself. The ringing in his ears gets louder. Karl’s face drains of all colour. Constantin looks at the doctor with wide eyes.

Severin, the only one left with enough rational brain cells to communicate, confirms. The doctor trails his eyes over the five of them, lingers on Consti’s sling and beaten up face and apparently decides they look enough like family for him to inform them about their teammates‘ status.

“Markus just came out of surgery for his head trauma. The intracranial pressure wasn’t as high as we’d originally thought, so we didn’t have to put him in a medically induced coma like we’d planned to do. He’s heavily sedated at the moment, though, to give his body the chance to rest. He will likely not wake up for another day. Miraculously, he doesn’t have any other injuries besides harmless bruising from the impact.”

Karl sobs in relief and lets go of Stephan to drop his head into his hands. Pius puts an arm around him and rests his forehead on the younger’s back. Constantin exhales shakily and nods, leaning further into Severin’s side.

The rope around Stephan’s heart loses the tiniest bit, but the pounding in his head doesn’t ease. He stares at the doctor. “What about-,” he starts, clears his throat, voice rough from disuse. “What about Andreas?”

The whole hallway seems to quiet down. The doctor looks at his chart. “Wellinger, yes? He’s also been in surgery with a tension pneumothorax. It’s a miracle, really, how he was able to walk around and breathe this well with four fractured ribs on the right side. He pulled your teammate out of the car, you said?” The doctor looks at Constantin, who nods. “Spectacular. He’s lucky one of the ribs caused the pneumothorax that late. He wouldn’t have made it without the immediate paramedic care. Andreas also shows signs of a whiplash injury and a lateral ligament tear on his right foot. We were able to rule out any kinds of organic bleeding or injuries. He’ll have to take it slow with his ribs and get professional physiotherapeutic care for his foot, but other than that, we expect he will make a full recovery. Both of them,” he adds, “were incredibly lucky. Andreas has woken up shortly after the surgery and immediately asked for one-“ he looks at his chart again, “Stephan Leyhe?”

Stephan’s hands are trembling so badly he has to sit on them to make them stop. “He’s awake already?” he croaks out, barely holding himself together. Constantin’s uninjured hand finds its way to the back of Stephan’s neck and Stephan can feel the massive relief in that one tight squeeze meant to comfort.

“He is awake,” the doctor confirms, then smiles. “Stubborn that one, isn’t he? Refused to let us hook him up to any post-surgery IV until we agreed to bring you to him. If you’d be so kind as to follow me.”

Stephan stands up, catches himself on Karl’s shoulder when the hallway tilts dangerously beneath his shaking legs. Karl steadies him with a quick hand at his waist. Once he’s collected himself enough to stand on his own, he looks down at the others and opens his mouth.

“Nope,” Severin interrupts him before he’s even had the chance to speak. “None of that. He asked for you. Go see him first, it’s alright. We’ll get this one,” he points at Karl, “to go see Eisei and then find some hot chocolate to warm Consti up. You handle Andi best, anyways. We’ll come around later.”

Stephan manages the first smile in hours, and even though it’s small, it’s also genuine. Constantin gets up, too, and hugs him again. Stephan notices how cold their youngest still is and wraps the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Tell him we’re all here, yes? Tell him I’m okay, thanks to him.” Constantin ponders over that for a moment. “Also tell him he’s stupid and if he scares me like that again I won’t sing One Direction songs with him anymore.”

“You listened to One Direction right before the accident? Of all things-“

Pius’ incredulous voice fades as Stephan follows the doctor down the hall and into the elevator. One floor up, one turn to the left, third door on the right and then there he is, looking small and frail in his hospital gown. The whole team is skinny and lean, yet Andi has always had a way of taking up more space than he needed to with his mega-watt smile and infinite charm. That Andi seems lightyears away now, and as Stephan stands frozen by the side of Andi’s bed, he does something he hasn’t done in a long time.

He sinks into the chair next to the bed and starts crying.

He sobs and weeps and wipes his tears on his jacket, which is useless because they won’t stop coming. There’s a hand on his thigh, squeezing weakly, and only then does he look up and sees a milder version of Andi’s trademark smile. “Don’t cry,” the younger whispers, still slightly out of it from all the surgery medication. “Not- ‘s not worth it. I’m good now.” Andi tries to open his eyes with great effort, successful after attempt number three. “See. All good.” He squints at Stephan, who’s holding his hand with the intention of never letting go. “That’s mine? ‘S that my shirt?”

Stephan nods weakly and guides Andi’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the younger’s knuckles. “I like it when you- when you wear my clothes. Look good in that. Should do that more often.” Slightly more awake now, Andi suddenly frowns. “Is Consti okay? Markus?” He wiggles around in his bed, attempting to sit up, hissing when his ribs painfully remind him he’s been in a car accident. Stephan gently presses him back down into the mattress.

“They’re both fine,” he tells Andi, who relaxes visibly. “They’ll come see you later. The doc said you asked for me?”

Andi nods. “Wanted to know how your head’s doing. Can’t have been the relaxed night you wanted. Has it gotten worse? Should we ring for someone? Maybe they can give you something for the headache.” He looks up at Stephan so earnestly, so innocently concerned, Stephan wants to punch him for daring to be worried about him instead of himself after just having survived a fucking car accident.

He also wants to kiss him.

He keeps that thought to himself.

“It’s better now,” Stephan tells him and can’t help but smile when Andi sighs in relief. “You should sleep, Andreas” he then adds, brushing one of Andi’s locks out of his eyes. Andi has the audacity to pout, even though his eyes are closing on their own account.

“Wanna see Consti and- and the others,” he mumbles quietly. “And won’t you be bored then? Did you- did you bring your book?”

Stephan has to bite his lip to stop himself from crying again. He’s cried enough for the next few years, really. “I’m good, don’t worry,” he whispers back. “I will wake you when the others come.”

Andi seems content with that. “Like Sleeping Beauty,” he breathes before falling asleep entirely.

Stephan presses another kiss to Andi’s hand, still holding it in both of his. He watches Andi’s face closely, still pale but at ease in his sleep.

“Like Sleeping Beauty, yes,” he confirms quietly, even though Andi is already too far gone to hear him. “Like a fairytale.” 

Outside, the snow covers the trees in blankets of white.

#ski jumping #ski jumping fanfic #lellinger #lellinger fanfic #sj fanfic #sj fic #andreas wellinger #stephan leyhe #markus eisenbichler #karl geiger #severin freund #constantin schmid #pius paschke #last 3k words are unbetaed braindump i hope it's not too obvious #i am nervous #i did not know i was capable of this #but here we are #tw car crash #tw blood #tw hospitals #tw surgery #tw injury #this is entirely a piece of fiction #they're all their own persons and i own none of them