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cimmanonrowl · 29 days ago

Text

Focus

It’s hard to please Daddy when it’s finals season and everything feels overwhelming. There were stack of books everywhere, unwashed mugs of coffee piling on your study table, and there seemed to be not enough time to revise for every course. And when Aaron finally had enough of your attitude, he decided to take the matter into his own hands.

Pairing: aaron hotchner x student!reader

Theme: smut heaven

Content: mention of starvation & hair pulling, academic pressure, huge age gap, consenting adults, edging, cockwarming, unprotected sex, daddy kink, ddlg dynamic, soft daddy dom!aaron, bratty!reader, powerplay: older man x younger woman relationship.

Note: Read the content warnings and proceed with your own discretion. If it's not your cup of tea, scroll up and have a good day.

The door clicked softly as Aaron stepped into your shared apartment.

The weight of his busy day still clung heavily to his shoulders. It had been one of those days in the office—long hours of reviewing reports, draining meetings with the board; the kind that gnawed at your patience until you only had so little left to give. Some days, he’d prefer to be out on the field so he can freely stretch and move his body. Most days, he doesn’t— simply because he doesn’t want to be away from you.

He kicked off his shoes, heaving a deep sigh of exhaustion as he did so. The usual sense of relief for being home hadn’t yet settled in as he glanced around the dimly lit space, his thick eyebrows pinched together in a confused frown.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

“Honey? I’m home,” he called out, his voice bouncing off the walls of the small apartment.

Worry trickled down his spine with the unusual sight. He had hoped to come home to something different— a warm meal, maybe, with the sound of your favourite songs blasting in the background. Or better yet, you wrapped in his favourite lingerie; the one that barely covers your pussy and clings to your body in a godly sight, kneeling on the living room floor with a sweet smile, ready to take his cock deep down your throat until he was shaking and begging to finally take your tight cunt.

Just anything– anything to signal that you had taken a break, that you weren’t still buried under the mountain of stress he’d seen building in your eyes over the past few days.

But the apartment was as silent as it had been when he left that morning.

Aaron’s brow furrowed as he made his way down the hallway, the muted light from your own study spilling out into the corridor. He had an idea, a feeling more like, as to what might greet him as soon as he sees you.

Goddamn, this girl.

The door creaked quietly as he pushed it open. And he felt his heart sink as he found you exactly where he had left you that morning— hunched over your desk, the same thick textbook open in front of you, surrounded by the same clutter of mess. The only difference was the growing pile of empty coffee cups at your side.

Had you even moved all day?

“Honey…” he tried again, softer this time, as he leaned against the door frame.

You didn’t respond. Your eyes were locked on the page in front of you, and he could see from the tension in your shoulders that you were anything but focused.

Aaron’s gaze traveled over your form, noticing the same clothes you’d worn earlier, and the half-eaten sandwich he had left on the corner of your desk that morning. His chest tightened, concern quickly overshadowing the fatigue he had brought home with him. He could make out the tension looming over your crouched figure.

“Honey…” his voice came out a whisper, curiously watching you as you murmured the words you were reading in your textbook, memorizing every word earnestly.

Aaron stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the way your hand was gripping your hair, pulling the strands tangled tightly around your fingers. You didn’t even seem to realize you were doing it— too caught up in your own world to understand what you were doing.

“Hey!”

You jumped, your hand releasing your hair so suddenly that you winced as a few strands were pulled free.

“Aaron! Y-you scared me!” your eyes finally lifted to meet his, wide and startled, as if you were seeing him for the first time that day.

He crossed the room in quick strides, worry etched into his features as he reached out to pull your hand gently away from your head. His thumb brushed over the raw area where your hair had been yanked, and he felt a pang of guilt for not noticing sooner.

“Darling, you’re doing it again,” he said quietly, his voice tight with concern. “I thought we talked about this.”

You blinked slowly. “I—I’m sorry. Yeah. I didn’t notice. I didn’t mean to.”

“You’ve been here all day, haven’t you?” he scanned his eyes over the desk for any sign that you had taken a break, had eaten something, anything. The half-eaten sandwich was evidence enough that you hadn’t.

“I was just trying to finish this stupid chapter,” you mumbled, your voice small, almost ashamed. “I didn’t realize how much time had passed. I’ll eat after, I promise.”

Aaron sighed heavily. “You didn’t eat. You didn’t move. You’ve been sitting here, pulling your hair out over these stupid finals all day, and you didn’t even notice?”

Blood rushed through your warm cheeks. And you felt the sudden urge to yell at his face.

Stupid finals?

Stupid?

You looked down at your hands, irritation slowly flooding in as his words sank in. He wasn’t wrong— you’d been so consumed by the pressure to finish everything as quickly and efficiently as you could, to get everything right, that you had lost track of everything else. But stupid… really? What you were doing was far from that word. How insensitive could he be?

You bit your lower lip, trying to control your rising temper.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered with a heavy heart, feeling the weight of his words like a stone in your chest. “I just wanted to do well. I didn’t mean to…”

Aaron’s expression softened at your words. He’s as frustrated as you were yet he’s concerned more than anything else. He crouched beside you before reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, sighing softly as his warm gaze lingered over your face.

You look tired, he noticed.

“Baby…” his voice was soft it almost made you tear up. “I know you’re stressed, but this isn’t healthy. You know that, right? You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

You nodded slowly. “I know. I just… I don’t want to mess up. I want to make you proud, Daddy...”

“Oh, sweet girl. You already do,” he took your hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “But you’re more important than your grades. Daddy needs you to take care of yourself, sweetheart,” he added, gently rubbing the spot where your hair had been pulled.

“But… I don’t want to slack off...”

Your pout deepened as Aaron frowned down at you.

“You’re the most hard working girl I know in this world, baby,” he said seriously. “What I need you to do is promise me that you’ll take breaks, eat on time, and stop… this…”

Whatever this is, you knew what he wanted to say.

“But—”

“Are you talking back to me?”

Hesitation clung to you with the sudden drop of his voice. The promise felt heavy on your tongue. There’s still a lot to do, deadlines to beat, too much reading to finish, papers to write and revise. You know with the current state of events, you can’t carelessly promise anything to him, but the way Aaron’s eyes squinted at your defiance was enough to make you nod quickly.

“S-sorry, Daddy. I promise.”

Aaron searched your face for a moment longer, then finally relaxed, though the worry didn’t entirely leave his eyes.

“Good. Because if I come home tomorrow and find you in the same spot, I’ll drag you out of here myself and punish you, baby. And no more coffee after 5 p.m.,” he added, eyeing the empty cups with disdain and disapproval.

You managed a small smile, the first genuine lightness you’d felt all day, and nodded again. “Yes, Daddy. No more coffee.”

“There’s my good girl.” Heat dusted over your cheeks as you giggled at his praise, and this time there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He stood up, pulling you to your feet with him. “Now, enough of that, come on. We’re ordering takeout, and you’re taking a break. No arguments.”

Panic settled on your heavy bones.

“Huh- what–” you stammered, peering over your books and the half-finished paper on your laptop. “Daddy, I nee– just one more chapter, please. I need– just another paragpra–”

The stern look he gave you made you stop. He didn’t have to say anything. Just seeing the scowl on his face; his thick eyebrows tugged together, his eyes narrowing in silent warning, was enough to put you back in place.

You pursed your lips immediately, and finally let him lead you out of the study, the tension in your shoulders beginning to ease just a little.

That night, Aaron let you use his cock for relief. He’s always been true to his words. He ordered a take out from your favourite Chinese restaurant down the block, ran a bubble bath and joined you shortly to wash your body, massaged your scalp and shoulder, showered you with praises for being his good girl, for being hardworking and smart, and for being the prettiest girl in the world. Then you let Daddy fuck your wet, needy cunt with his thick fingers until you came and writhed against his soft touches.

It was almost midnight when you heard your neighbor pound angrily on the thin wall separating your apartments, screaming in frustration to tone down your fucking. Which you only giggled. Daddy gave you permission to ride his big, fat cock the way you like it. And you did. But it was only after he lapped and ate your pussy like a starved man that he made you cum twice on his tongue, until your legs were spasming uncontrollably from the blinding pleasure.

The next few days were just as rough.

It was an underestimation on some angle, but nothing but the truth as a whole. You and Aaron were arguing nonstop. He was scolding you too much. You cry nearly every night. But he never stopped breathing down your neck: reminding you to take a break, eat the food he ordered for you from his office, drink your vitamins, don’t drink any more coffee, eat the fruits he bought instead of potato chips, rest your eyes, take a bath, take a walk, threatening to punish you if you don’t.

“Are you seriously fucking kidding me?” His voice was flat, his weariness laced with something sharper, though you couldn’t tell if it was frustration or concern. Maybe both. Or maybe he’s seriously just pissed off.

Slowly, with brows pulled in a tight frown, you glanced over your shoulder.

You didn’t hear Aaron walk down the hall, didn’t hear the way his pace slowed just outside the door, or how he lingered there for a moment, leaning against the frame to watch you in annoyance. His frustrated sigh filled the room, deep and full of exhaustion, but that you heard.

Your hand went limp, your fingers still tangled in your hair as you stared back innocently at him.

Aaron stood there, quietly observing you from your seat, still in his work clothes— his tie loosened, shirt untucked from where he’d probably tugged at it during his long day. His expression, however, was fully focused on you, and the hint of gentle smile he usually carried whenever he comes home to you was absent, replaced by a frown etched deep in his rugged features.

“What, Daddy?” you asked in a small voice, as though you hadn’t been doing anything wrong.

You felt the pull of your own hand still gripping your hair. Slowly, you released it, lowering your hand to your lap.

Aaron let out a sigh, running a hand through his own tousled hair before crossing the room to you. “It’s almost eleven,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm.

“Have you been sitting here all day?”

What?

You blinked, looking around for a clock to confirm what he was saying. You barely remember anything that happened. All you can recall was being kissed on your forehead before he head out to work, reminding you to eat the breakfast he prepared for you, and to keep your promise. But now the light outside had faded into complete darkness, the street lights illuminating the crossroads outside, streaks of moonlight painting the night sky.

Almost like an afterthought, your stomach growled faintly. You suddenly realized you hadn’t eaten since… that morning…

Maybe.

“I… I guess so,” you murmured, as if admitting it out loud will make everything worse.

He crossed his arms, thick muscles bulging against the tight fabric of his dress shirt.

“You guess so? Try again, little girl.”

“I—” You wandered your eyes over the pile of untouched notes, the cold cup of coffee still sitting on your desk, and the empty plate from a hastily eaten sandwich. “I… I didn’t, sorry. I didn’t notice the time.”

Your mind was wrapped too tightly around the fact that you still have one more essay to finish before the due date. It was a frustrating day. You caught yourself a lot of times staring mindlessly at the words printed on your book, though they blurred and danced right before your eyes. You stared at the same paragraph for… how long each? Minutes? Hours? You weren’t even sure anymore.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed as he crouched down next to your chair, his gaze level with yours now.

“I told you to eat proper meals, didn’t I?” He pointed out, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed under your eye, and you realized how dry and tired your skin felt. “And you still haven’t eaten, have you?”

You bit your lip and shook your head slightly. “I wasn’t hungry, Daddy. I just wanted to get through this part—”

“No,” Aaron cut you off, shaking his head as he firmly gripped your shoulders, turning your chair so you faced him fully. “No. Enough of this now, little girl. You’ve been doing this to yourself all week. Staying up too late and skipping meals. This is not good for you.”

Your eyes started to burn—not from exhaustion this time, but from something heavier, something you’d been holding in for days now.

“You don’t understand, Daddy. This is important to me!”

The stress, the pressure, the sense of being completely overwhelmed. You felt like you were sinking, and somehow, it all spilled over the moment Aaron looked at you with those tired, worried eyes.

“I just…” Your voice broke, and you looked away, blinking rapidly. “I have to do well, Daddy. I can’t mess this up. I have one semester left until graduation. I can’t– I have to do well.”

Aaron’s expression softened as he listened, and his hands moved to cradle your face, gently turning you back to meet his gaze. “Baby, Daddy knows how important this is to you,” his voice was calm and steady. “But you can’t do well if you’re running yourself into the ground. You’re hurting yourself, and you don’t even realize it. I’m not doing this to sabotage you, honey.”

His thumb brushed over the spot on your scalp where your hair was still tender from your unconscious pulling, and you winced slightly.

“Sorry—” you apologized quickly. “I don’t realize I’m doing it, daddy. I’m sorry.”

His brow furrowed at that, and he lowered his hands, his worry etched into every line of his face. “Just promise me you’ll stop,” he whispered, as if the words themselves could break you. “Or else I’m putting mittens on these little hands of yours.”

You nodded quickly, stifling a giggle. “I promise, daddy. I didn’t even realize I was doing it—”

“I know,” Aaron cut you off gently before you could finish. He stood up then, his hand dropping to yours, tugging you softly up to your feet. “C’mon. You’re done for the night.”

“But—” You glanced back at your desk, at the still-open textbooks, the unread chapters waiting for you. “I’m not done. I have so much left—”

“What do you still need to do?” He asked, following your gaze on your table.

“I’m halfway through this paper and I still have to revise them. Then…” your lower lip prodded a little as you stared up at him. “I need to review for my deptals. I just finished making flashcards on my iPad, Daddy, but I haven’t checked them yet…”

“Then we’ll do that tonight,” he said as he steered you out of the room and down the hall toward the kitchen. “First, you need to eat. And then, we’re going to bed.”

“Daddy, I just said I need to revie—”

“Yes, yes, you will, honey.” He squeezed your hand gently as he led you to the kitchen table. “You’re not doing this alone, okay? You’ve got Daddy. I’ll help you tonight. So be a good girl for me and eat first.”

You sat down heavily in the chair as Aaron started pulling out some leftovers from the fridge, reheating them with quick, efficient movements. He didn’t ask you to explain yourself or demand an apology. He just moved around the kitchen with an ease that came from his conscious effort to know you— knowing when to push, and when to just be there quietly.

When he placed the food in front of you, you hesitated for a moment before picking up the fork.

“Daddy…”

He hummed. “Yes, my love?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled between bites. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Aaron pulled up a chair beside you, leaning forward on his elbows as he watched you eat; a small, tired smile playing on his lips. “I know you didn’t, little one. But you did. And I’d rather see you take care of yourself than get another A.”

“You’re just saying that, Daddy. You said I’ll always get a reward if I do well in school. You were bribing me.”

“Maybe…” he grinned, the tiredness in his eyes easing a bit. “But I still mean it.”

As you continued eating, Aaron reached across the table, brushing his fingers against your hand again. “Remember your promise?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’ll try harder not to do it anymore.”

“Good girl,” he leaned back on his chair with a relieved sigh. “Now, finish your meal. What would you say if Daddy help you study?”

You smiled wider at that, nodding your head quickly. “I’d like that, Daddy.”

“What if you sit on Daddy’s big cock while I ask you your reviewer questions? Would my little girl like that?”

Heat pooled in between your legs as you listened to the vulgarity of his words. He gave you a small smile, reaching his hand to your face before gently tucking the stray hair behind your ear.

“S-sounds good, Daddy,” you said weakly, blushing as you crossed your legs under the table. “D-do I get to come?”

“If you answer the questions correctly, yes you will,” he said lowly, lightly caressing your exposed neck with his thumb.

A low whimper rumbled on your throat.

“But wha– what if I don’t, daddy?”

“Then we’ll just have to see, don’t we, little girl?”

Aaron laid on his back, looking so comfortable and snug as ever, with the soft glow of your iPad casting a faint light in the dimly lit bedroom. The night shirt he previously worn was already discarded on the floor, completely unforgotten. His brows were furrowed in concentration as he scrolled through the flashcards you’d painstakingly made for your departamental exams, his fingers gently swiping the screen.

“Alright, honey,” Aaron said, his voice low and focused. “Define ‘morphological productivity’ for me.”

You stared up at the ceiling, trying to pull the answer from the jumble of concepts crammed into your brain. A low whine escaped your lips under the intensity of his gaze; exactly just as you felt his thick cock twitch against your walls.

“Daddy… f-feels so good…” you shook your head weakly as the pad of Aaron’s calloused palm traveled your bare thighs.

“I know, honey. But I need you to be a good girl and focus right now.”

Your heart raced, though it wasn’t just from the pressure of not knowing the answer to his question. His presence—so close, so steady—and the familiar heady smell of his bodywash was making it harder to focus. The warmth of his body underneath you, his big cock inside your wet cunt, the way his voice dropped whenever he asked a question, all of it felt heavier, more instense than usual.

“Morphological productivity…” Your mind raced to remember the specifics. “It’s when the… morphology is productive—oh fuck!”

Aaron barked a hearty laughter, sending shivers down your spine with every twitch of his cock inside your hole.

“Just joking, Daddy…” You pouted adorably, slowly grinding your hips to feel more of his girth. “It’s… it’s… t-the guide that control how words are formed and structured in a l-language, r-right?”

“Hmm. I don’t know, baby. Can you give me an example?”

“One e-example is affix… affixation…” You moaned softly, stopping your hips from grinding back and forth as Aaron gripped your thigh in a silent warning. “Sorry, Daddy. F-for instance, you can add ‘-ness’ to the root word ‘happy’ to make ‘happiness’ and it still makes sense.”

Aaron gave a small nod, his lips curving slightly in approval, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Close enough,” he said, his voice steady.

His eyes flicked toward your bare chest before returning to the iPad, and you felt wetness pooling in between your legs intensify.

“Next, baby,” he said, swiping to the next card. “What’s the difference between a free morpheme and a bound morpheme?”

You shifted slightly, pressing both your palm on his stomach, trying to stifle a moan.

“A free morpheme can stand alone as a word,” your voice came out a little softer, distracted by the way his fingers moved so casually across your thighs. “Like ‘book’ or ‘run.’ A bound morpheme can’t… it… it h-has to be attached to something else, like pre… oh, Daddy… pre…fixes or s-suffixes. Like ‘-s’ or ‘-ing.’”

Aaron’s eyes lingered on yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. His gaze was heavy, like he was weighing more than just your answer, and the quiet that followed hung between you, thick. You could feel the heat of his body underneath you, and his pulsating cock inside.

“C-correct,” he murmured, but his voice had dipped lower.

His fingers lingered over the screen, not moving to the next flashcard right away. The air between you seemed to hum, each small movement or breath amplified in the quiet room.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. The weight of his gaze was now making it difficult to focus on anything but the heat of your skin together. Studying had always been stressful, but this… this was different. His serious, deliberate tone, the way he was so focused, so intent on helping you, made it all the more difficult to not cave in to your crushing desire.

“Now, this one should be easy. What is a washback?” he asked, his voice still low, though his eyes hadn’t left yours.

You hesitated, distracted by the way his lips formed each word. “It’s also… uh I think it’s also called the washback effect. It is the influence of an assessment on teaching and learning. It can be both beneficial or harmful, and is a common phenomenon in institutional learning.”

“Mm-hm,” Aaron hummed in approval, his eyes darkening slightly as he nodded. “Good girl.”

He didn’t move to the next flashcard right away. Instead, his hand shifted slightly inches slightly to your hips, his thumb rubbing soft circles. It was such a subtle motion, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Daddy… please…” You bit your lip, trying to refocus. “Are you… Are you going to ask me the next one?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, betraying your growing distraction.

Aaron’s gaze flicked to your lips for the briefest second before he looked back at the iPad, though the movement wasn’t lost on you. He cleared his throat, as if remembering the task at hand, and swiped to the next card, though his thumb lingered on the screen a little longer than necessary.

“Define… vowel harmony,” he said, his voice slower this time, before gently bucking his hip like his simply adjusting his position.

You whined loudly, the tip of his cock hitting the special spot inside, your mind scrambling to pull the answer from the depths of your memory.

“It’s… uh… Daddy… stop m-moving…” You swallowed, your voice catching in your throat. “It’s when… when… vowels within a word need to m-match in some way. Just… just l-like in certain languages, all the vowels in a word have to be either front or back vowels.”

Aaron nodded, his lips curving just slightly in a faint, knowing smile. “Very good.”

His hand shifted again, this time closer, brushing down your inner thigh, right where your bodies meet. The heat from his touch seeped through every fiber of your being, flooding your senses with heat and desire. And lust. Overflowing heat and lust.

Your breathing quickened, your mind no longer on linguistic theories or exam questions.

“Do you want to keep going?” Aaron asked, though his voice had lost the strict, studious edge it had earlier. His hand still rested on your inner thigh, his fingers ghosting against your throbbing clit, as if waiting for your answer to decide where they might go next.

“D-daddy…” you said in a whisper, slowly grinding your hips again. “N-need you… plea…please… daddy…”

Aaron didn’t move for a moment. He kept watching your desperate movements with that same heavy gaze, his fingers slowly teasing their way to your needy cunt, sending another shiver through your body.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he set the iPad aside, his hand resting fully on your hip now.

“My little girl’s been studying hard…” his voice was low and rough, the pad of his big, calloused hands against your skin. “And you’ve got all these answers down.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body instinctively leaning into his touch. The anticipation was almost suffocating in the best way, choking you. He started to rock his hip slowly, the trail of hair from his cock grinding against your clit in a heady way.

“F-fuck…” your voice trembled as you impatiently increased your pace. “Y-yes, D-daddy… please...”

He sat up to lean towards you, his lips just a breath away from your ear. “Baby, you’ve earned a break,” the words filled with a promise that made your pulse quicken. “I’ll fuck you nice and good, hmm?”

As Aaron’s lips brushed ever so lightly against the sensitive skin of your neck, your world crumbled and you couldn’t focus on anything else.

His lips trailed down your exposed neck, his nose pressed against your skin, taking in your scent as he left a soft trail of light kisses. A heavy sigh escaped your lips when you felt his hands tighten around your waist, guiding you in back-and-forth motion. The way his big and girthy cock was stretching your leaking cunt was intoxicating. You whimpered in embarrassment, hiding your flushed cheeks at the crook of his neck as you felt the tip of his cock deep into your belly.

“D-daddy… can you move, please?” you whispered in a weak voice.

“You want Daddy’s cum inside you, sweet girl?”

You nodded, feeling Aaron move gently to fix his position. “I d-do, Daddy… s-so much… please...”

“Then you’ll get it, princess.”

With a yelp, Aaron’s girthy cock rammed in and out of your waiting cunt. The shrill sound that escaped your lips made Aaron smirk in satisfaction. This is where you belong; in his arms, perched on his lap with your warm, velvety walls wrapped tightly on his cock, his name leaving your lips like a desperate prayer.

Deep grunts and small whimpers tangled in the air like harmony. Your voice was raw, and your throat dries as he assaulted your greedy, little cunt with deep thrusts. His breathing was ragged and heavy.

“Da…Daddy…” Your fingers tightened on his hair, pulling a little with every plop of your sweaty skin. “C-close, ‘m close… Daddy…”

Aaron let out an amused laugh. “No, not yet. Wait a l-little more, you can do that f-for Daddy, princess?”

You whined.

“N-no… I-I want… Daddy… come, p-please… Want to c-come…”

A sharp slap on the side of your thigh stilled you.

“Who fucking own you, little girl?”

“Y-you... Daddy…”

“And who fucking own this greedy cunt, huh? Who get to say when you’re allowed to fucking come?”

A particular thrust set your nerves on fire. “Y-you, Daddy! Only y-you… fuck… that feels g-good! There- t-there! R-right there! H-harder, Daddy! Fuck– f-fuck me!”

“There’s my good girl.”

You felt the familiar coil twisting in your belly. The squelching sound of your wet hole being pounded hard and fast was dirty and somehow humiliating. He kept hammering his hips into you, the tip of his throbbing cock nudging the most sensitive spots deep inside your body. Parts you never knew existed until you met Aaron. He has always loved you hard and always fucked you even harder. Like you’re nothing but a fleshlight. A toy. A fuckdoll he could use just the way he wants it.

“Y-yes! Yes! D-daddy! Right-r-right there! F-fuck!” Your release inched closer, roused by his pained grunts and heavy breathing. “Please! P-please! Please, Daddy! Come in-inside me! Breed m-me… please! I’m a g-good girl, r-right? Fuck m-me full of c-cum, please! W-want it s-so bad— want y-you so bad!”

“Come, princess. Go on. Let go.”

Your orgasm ripped through you like an avalanche. Your eyes rolled at the back of your head. Aaron’s loud grunt and your whiny moan pierced the silence of the night, his fat cock spurting ropes and ropes of warm cum into your waiting womb. Shivers ran down your spine, your bones weak, legs trembling.

“That’s it... good girl... my sweet girl...” Aaron murmured against your ear, his breath hot and heavy. “Just take it, princess. Daddy loves you.”

A loud pounding on the wall startled your calming heart. It even made Aaron jump a little. Seconds ticked in and the familiar voice of your angry neighbor echoed inside your sweaty, sex-filled room.

“Stop fucking in the middle of the night, for fuck’s sake! Some people have fucking exams tomorrow unlike you fucking horny crackheads! Fuck!”

You could only giggle in exhaustion.

Guess who’s back, bitches! (affectionately) Please give me some love and appreciation in the form of your thoughts or reactions. Also, don’t forget to drink your water and keep slaying, babes!

Tag list: @downbad4reid ,@roseydoesypoesy, @pastelpinkflowerlife, @justyourusualash, @hotchsmutrecs, @msfreedom, @birdysaturne, @gghostwriter, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @fore45fore, @actualdeemon, @diksy1112, @jethro-mcgee-tony, @hotchnerbau, @iniyalovesall, @222hwilsss, @balariie, @oliviabbb, @ncis0mrs0gibbs, @jasonswhitetuftofhair, @m4pl, @zaddyhotch, @fandom-garbage, @obsessed-oops, @ujws5, @babybluelrh98, @anime-lover-forever-1127, @hazel-babbit, @3amcloudss, @seraphinlover

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds smut #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner x you #daddy!aaron

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hopelesslonelyghost · 10 months ago

Text

18+ ghoap x fem!reader

soap with a pretty bird back at home who he facetimes all the time bc they just miss each other so much. they’re so clingy for each other.

you’re always relaxing when you call him. in a t-shirt and sweatpants and are either sitting on the couch with a warm lamp on beside you or laying in bed with only the fairy lights on. you’re always giggling and smiling and making sure to keep your entire face within frame so that johnny can see all of you.

and you know that his lieutenant is always somewhere beside him even if johnny denies it, but you know. because the two of you have spoken about it.

“i showed ghost a pic of you.” he spoke one night after the two of you had finished some…salacious activities.

you immediately lifted your head up from where it was laying on his chest, “which one did you show him?”

“don’t get upset.”

you side-eyed him instantly, “john…” you smacked him lightly, “which oneeee?”

after a bit of pestering, he showed you. it was a mirror pic of you in some oversized sweatpants and a thin tank top. your hair was tied back and you were brushing your teeth. it was a silly pic, one meant only for him.

“oh my god, mactavish I can’t believe you!”

“wai’ bonnie lemme explain.”

you were pretty sure you were bright red, trying to hide your face in your hands, but johnny wasn’t letting you.

gripping your wrists, he pushed them both besides your head, getting between your legs, forcing them open, “he loved it.”

your mouth fell open, “johnny how the fu-! HOW?! I look like shit! my face is greasy and I’m pretty sure I hadn’t showered that day when I sent that picture!”

he chucked and pecked your nose, cheeks, and finally your lips, “you weren’t there to see his face. fuck lass, he was exactly like you are now, ears red and all doe-eyed.”

you felt him hardening again, rubbing up against your already soaked cunt, before slipping in with ease, “gonna bring him home. have him fuck this pretty pussy. show him how much of a good girl you are.”

with that in mind, you sometimes say, and do, some out-of-pocket stuff. one time you were complaining to your boyfriend how the birth control pill was making your tits sore and how much bigger they were getting.

“look!” you turned on your nightlight and faced it, giving your boyfriend, and subsequently ghost, an unfiltered view of your tits through your nightie. the low cut helped accentuate them.

your grin was hidden off camera when you palmed one of them and whined, putting on a show for both men, “they’re so swollen babe. i wish you were here to massage them.”

“steamin’ jezus bonnie.”

you could hear a choked off groan somewhere in the background. bingo.

“you’re coming home soon, right baby?” you moved the camera back to your face, pouting and batting your lashes.

“fuck yes. coming home real soon, I promise.”

and it was sometime past three in the morning when he got home a few days later. you were already sleeping, the heat during the summer nights was enough to have the a/c on blast, and wearing just a cropped tank top and a thong to bed.

the sound of the unit running made it easier for both soap and ghost to make their way to your shared room. there you laid on your side, facing away from the door. thin sheets had been kicked off and were now tangled up around your thighs, your bare ass was in full display. the string of your thong tucked nicely between your perky cheeks.

both men swallowed their groans, soap turning to the taller man and elbowing him softly, “better than a phone call, eh l.t.?”

ghost swallowed roughly, eyes never leaving your moonlit body, “way fuckin’ betta’ sergeant.”

and then both men pounced. they’d both requested extended leave, and they planned on using all of it buried deep inside you.

#ough i’ve been thinking about those two SO MUCH #i’m so feral #a little self indulgent tbhhhh #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley #johnny mactavish #ghoap #cod mw2 #cod mw3

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bullet-prooflove · 5 months ago

Note

Started talking and the line went dead

Tagging: @kmc1989

Judd worries about the job you do, the cases you take on, the shit you deal with. He knows the stats when it comes to women in law enforcement, they face higher rates of violence, sexual assault, abuse. That’s not including the misogynistic crap you take from your less enlightened male colleagues, the ones that call you sweetheart, that ask you to fetch their coffee. You’re fighting a war on two fronts, both in the precinct and on the front lines and every day he’s in awe of you.

Which is why he tries not to worry when the solar storm hits, when the phone cuts off when you’re in the middle of explaining how you stopped a woman from killing her neighbour today because she thought she was a lizard person.

“Did she even resemble a lizard?” He’d asked you as he cradled the phone against his ear, fiddling with the dials on the coffee machine.

“Not even in the slightest.” You’d told him as you slammed your locker shut. “Think more like Judge Judy.”

“COVID’s made everyone freaking nuts.” He mumbles as he gives up on the machine and instead begins to fill the kettle. “You heading home?”

“Yea.” You’d told him and he hears the zip of your coat in the background. “The first thing I’m going to do is sink into a nice hot bath.”

His mind drifts to this morning, to you undressing for him, that cotton robe slipping from your shoulders until you were standing there in nothing but God’s own glory.

“I wish I was there to run it for you…”

It’s then that it happens. There’s a blast of static in his ear and his phone starts glitching out like it’s something out of The Matrix.

He spends the rest of his shift trying to get back in touch with you in between calls but there’s nothing. Dispatch can’t get a location and every other single line of communication is down. Judd has no illusions about what you’re up to. You’re out in the field, the same way he is, helping folk because that’s the job you do, that’s your calling.

It’s twenty four hours later he finally lays eyes on you. You step into the firehouse looking like complete hell. There’s Lord knows what in your hair, your APD windbreaker is a little torn and there’s a little dust smeared across your cheek and you’re still the most beautiful damn thing on God’s green earth.

He drops everything to go to you. The equipment he’s holding it crashes to the floor and he’s in motion, gathering you up into his arms, kissing your nose, your mouth, your cheeks, everywhere he can reach.

“Oh baby, I was so worried.” He murmurs, burying his face into your hair. “I thought the lizard people got you.”

You laugh then and that sound, it just lights up his entire world.

“Not today Judd.” You smile as his forehead comes to rest on yours. “Not today.”

Love Judd? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#judd ryder #judd ryder x reader #911 lone star

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eliasmelody · 19 days ago

Text

PART 3!

Tag: Lily x f!reader (platonic), Florian x f!reader, Joseph x f!reader, Jack x f!reader, maid reader

Warning: grammar & spelling, check endnote for more translation.

INTRO:

The manor loomed in the distance, its silhouette hidden by thick mist. Occasionally, events would unfold within its walls, an enigma that few could comprehend. To survivors, they were a cruel mockery; to hunters, it was nothing more than a meaningless occurrence. Yet, no one understood the manor’s logic. All they could do was follow, drawn by its unrelenting pull.

✦.─────────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ─────────── .✦

Cheerleader - Lily Barriere (platonic)

You're doing your best to ensure the Valentine event runs smoothly. The food preparations are nearly done, but the decorations... You let out a sigh as you survey the mess Victor, the dog, made in his panic from the noise. Fortunately, it's nothing you can't handle.

"Is this okay?" Lily's voice rings out, full of excitement. Her enthusiasm shines through, as she eagerly looks at the decorations. With her background as a cheerleader, which you doubt sometimes, her energy is infectious, and she's more than happy to pitch in and help.

"A little higher, Lily." You say, pointing toward the spot on the wall.

"Sure thing!!" Lily said with a confident smile, holding the banner up. "There!! What do you think?"

You smile and give her a thumbs up. "Perfect."

Lily grins even wider, absolutely proud of herself and her accomplishment.

"Hell yeah!!" She exclaims enthusiastically, nodding in agreement. She’s clearly having a blast, so much so that she gets a little too excited and jumps off the ladder.

"Catch!" She yells, her arms flailing as she leaps toward you.

You quickly reach out, barely managing to catch her before she tumbles to the floor. “Whoa, Lily!"

You scold, a little shaken but trying to keep your tone firm. "What was that? You could've hurt yourself!"

Lily grins mischievously, hands on her hips. "I want a reward!" She says, her playful tone adding to the fun atmosphere.

You sigh fondly, shaking your head with a smile. "Of course you do." You sigh, knowing Lily's never short on creative requests.

Lily’s eyes light up at your response, and she taps her chin thoughtfully, pretending to ponder the question even though she’s clearly already got something in mind.

"Hm… well. Since I helped with all the decorating … I think I deserve something special!" She says, her grin growing mischievous. "Why don’t you give me a piggyback ride?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "Haha... No." you say, amused but firm.

Lily pouts dramatically, crossing her arms. "Come on! You owe me after all that hard work!" She protests.

You raise an eyebrow at her challenge. "Oh yeah? Then who ate the last brownie when clearly I put a note?"

Lily freezes, her confident grin faltering for a moment as she nervously glances away. "Uh..." She quickly recovers with a sheepish chuckle.

You sigh and shake your head fondly, giving in to her antics. "How about melon cream soda?"

Lily's eyes light up at the suggestion.

"Now you're talking!"

"But no piggyback ride"

"Awww"

Fire investigator - Florian

This man... always appears with that uncanny smile. There was something unsettling about him, something that didn't quite fit with the sharpness of his eyes or the cold precision of his movements. A perfect mask, belying the secrets buried beneath.

Florian volunteered to help with the preparations, just like Lily. Moving heavy crates was no challenge for him, his strength apparent in every effortless motion.

He placed the box down carefully at its destination, then turned back to face you. "Need any more help?"

You shake your head. "That'll be all."

He paused, as if sensing your gaze, and turned slightly, his smile still intact. "Is something wrong?"

You gulp and shake your head, avoiding his gaze. After a moment of silence, you force yourself to speak. "You look… good... in your new outfit." The words feel awkward, leaving a strange taste in your mouth.

He widens his eyes slightly, just enough to be noticeable, as if your words caught him off guard. For a brief moment, his smile falters, but only for an instant before it returns, even more controlled than before. "How kind of you to say."

You smile nervously, the tension in the air thickening as you try to maintain composure. "I-I didn’t mean to make things awkward."

He steps a little closer, his presence almost suffocating now. "You didn't." His voice carried an oddly soothing tone, though something about it sent a chill down your spine.

You nod shyly and take a hurried step back. "Ah, well, thank you for your hel—"

Thud

You accidentally bump into a stack of crates, and a loud clatter echoes through the room as they begin to topple.

Before you can react, Florian is right there, his hand steadying the crates with ease. "Careful." He says, his voice smooth, as he fixes them in place.

"T-thank you." You stammer, your face flushing, trying to regain your composure.

His eyes linger on you, a glint of satisfaction flickering in their depths as he watches your reaction. The faintest smile tugs at the corner of his lips, as if pleased by the circumstances. "You’re welcome." He says softly, his voice smooth and deliberate

Under the weight of his stare, your heart races. "If you ever need anything else," His words almost whisper. "Don't hesitate to ask."

You nod quickly, still feeling the tension in the air, make your way away from him.

Once you’re out of sight, Florian stands still for a moment, his smile slowly fading. He raises a hand to his face, his fingers brushing over his lips as a subtle flush spreads across his cheeks.

Photographer - Joseph Desaulnier

Joseph looks up and smiles at you, his eyes sweeping over you. He sets his camera aside and stands up, taking a step closer.

"Ah, there you are." He says, his voice low and almost husk. "You look lovely."

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, caught off guard by his unexpected compliment. You were simply wandering around, never expecting him to call for you. And now, standing before him in your plain maid uniform, you feel a little self-conscious, especially when compared to how effortlessly put together he looks.

"Thank you..." You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Joseph doesn’t seem to notice or care about your doubts. His gaze is still locked on you, scanning every detail of your form with an intensity that leaves you feeling exposed.

"Are you ready to begin?" His smile turns sly, voice is playful, but there's a certain mischief in his eyes that makes you wonder just what he’s planning.

"Ready for what?" You ask, your heart pounding in your chest, uncertainty thick in your voice as you try to make sense of his intentions.

Joseph steps closer, his presence overwhelming. His hand gently lifts your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. His touch is surprisingly gentle, yet there's an undeniable weight to it.

"The photoshoot, mon amour." He murmurs, his voice soft but laced with an unmistakable sense of authority. "You agreed to be my muse for tonight, remember?"

"Oh." A mix of confusion and nervousness settles in your chest, and you blink, trying to recall the moment, but your mind feels a bit hazy. "I did?"

Joseph’s smile widens, and he steps a little closer, his gaze soft yet intense. "Oui, mon trésor" He says, his voice warm but teasing.

"But shouldn’t you be taking pictures of the others?" You ask, a hint of uncertainty in your voice as you glance around.

Joseph gives a small, knowing smile and steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I already took some" He says smoothly, his voice calm and reassuring. "But at this moment, it is you upon whom I wish to focus."

He reaches out his hand, offering it to you like a true gentleman, his fingers extended with a subtle, inviting gesture. His gaze remains steady, filled with a quiet confidence as he waits for you to take his hand.

You hesitate again but taking a deep breath, you take his hand, your fingers slowly intertwining with his. His grasp is firm but gentle, his hand warm against yours.

"There you go." He muttered, his voice soft and soothing. "No need to be nervous, mon amour. I'll take good care of you."

The Ripper - Jack

You let out a sigh of relief as you finally catch Wick's dog after an hour of chasing. Gently cradling the little creature in your hands, you guess you have to hold it until Victor gets back.

"This is... the event, huh?" A voice echoed beside you, tinged with amusement.

You widen your eyes, not expecting to see him so soon. "Oh, Mr. Ripper."

In front of you stands the famous hunter. Jack raises an eyebrow, a curious expression settling on his face as you falter.

"Mr...?" He turns to face you completely, a playful glint in his eyes.

"And Ripper? No, no, my dear." Jack says smoothly, his tone warm yet laced with something playful, almost teasing. He lets the words hang in the air, as if savoring the moment. "I thought we already talked about this."

"Ah, I kinda forgot..." Your voice barely whispers, the heat creeping up your neck and spreading across your face.

Jack's smirk deepens, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark as he watches your reaction.

"Forgetful, are we?" He murmurs, his voice low, drawing closer. The space between you feels charged with tension, your heart pounding louder with each passing second. He leans in just a little more, his face dangerously close now, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him.

"I suppose I'll have to remind you” He says softly, his breath brushing against your skin. There's a dangerous edge to his words, a hint of something more, and you can’t tell if it’s a challenge or a promise.

Your heart skipped, panic setting in. You pushed at his shoulder, stammering. "Oh no, no, no. No need!” A forced smile tried to hide your flustered nerves, though it was clear from your expression.

Jack chuckled softly, leaning back with a knowing grin. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, as if he were taking in every detail with a mix of amusement and something darker. The weight of his gaze lingered a little too long, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Mind if I pet?" The words hung in the air, his eyes never leaving you as if waiting for a reaction.

You tilt your head, glancing down at the dog in your arms, whose eyes were locked on Jack. "Oh... sure, I guess?"

You were expecting him to reach down and pet the dog, but instead, to your surprise, he reached out and gently ruffled your hair. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through you, leaving you frozen for a moment as his mischievous grin only grew wider. You couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks.

"Good girl." Jack murmured with a smirk, his voice low and teasing.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you instantly regretted how flustered you felt.

✦.─────────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ─────────── .✦

mon amour = my love

Oui, mon trésor = Yes, my treasure

Source: idea from “"IDV x The Chara cafe collaboration" (None of the pictures are mine)

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whoisneo404 · 10 months ago

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Can you do one where y/n is secretly gay and had the hugest crush on nick since he was 7 but never actually acted on it but y/n gets tried of pretending to be straight so he breaks up with his girlfriend and then goes sees nick crying and ends up telling him he's gay (you can add smut if you'll like.)

Start Over. (part 1)

Summary: You break up with your girlfriend after behing tired of hiding your feelings for Nick.

Tw: cursing, a bit of anxiety.

Note: Nicks texts are purple and yours are blue.

I look at my phone as it rings, a message from Nick pop ups in my phone, the background of him and me in the beach playing in the water lights up. Lila always told me to change it to a picture of her but I always brush it off telling her that it was a special memory.

I tap on it and when the chat opens a picture of the both of us playing on a park in Boston pops up, we are maybe 7 or 8 years old. I smile at my phone and a little message appears.

>You were soooooooo cute, what happened to you?

I feel my cheeks burn a bit and I type back.

>I got even cuter, can’t say the same about you.

I send it and I can picture his grin and his eyes rolling. I miss him, when I feel the acrylic nails dig into my shoulder I remember where I was.

"Are you paying attention?" Lila asks and I look at her, suddenly I remember where I was, the sound of the football match blasting on the TV, our 'friends' screaming and chanting at their teams. I feel my body grow tense.

"No. I-... I need to get some air." I get up but her hands are still on my body.

"Want me to go with you?" she asks.

"Not really, I’ll be back quickly." I try to not make kt a big of a deal as I walk outside the house, I sit on the porch and let out a sigh as I bury my face on my hands. "Shit." I mumble to myself.

My phone rings again. I grab it.

>Whatever loser.

>How is the game going? Is your team losing? I hope it is.

I smile again, my heart flutters and I try to swallow my feelings. Because I shouldn’t feel this way about my best friend, I shouldn’t feel this way when I have a girlfriend, I shouldn’t feel this when I like girls... Or do I? I have never really looked at Lila the way the guys on the movies we watch look at the girls, I never get the urge to kiss or cuddle her. I like her company, she's a great friend, and I’m sure most people would think she is an amazing girlfriend but I just don't feel the same. Do I not like her? No, I don't.

Shit.

Fuck.

I hate this.

>Hey, Nick. Call me, please.

>Everything okay?

>No.

>Code Sink??

>Yeah....

>Kay, I’ll call you in 3 minutes. Make sure everyone hears that you have to go.

>Thanks.

I take another deep breath. I stand up and walk inside, everyone was still screaming and laughing, I sit back on my spot, Lila asks me something and I only nod, my palms sweat, my head feels dizzy. Nick, get me out, please, get me out. The sweet perfume of Lila hits my face as she leans on my shoulder, I try to not move, I pat her head and she smiles. I feel bad, I like you but not like you like me.

My phone buzzes, I pick it up and a few friends look over at me.

"What? He is sick?... okay I’ll be there. Yeah, don’t worry, I'll buy that. Hm... No, it’s okay. Bye, Dad." Nick talks quietly on the other side. He tells me what to say and I repeat it. I feel Lila squeeze my arms as I speak. I put my phone down.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah... I mean, my cat ate something bad and puked, my dad is worried. So, I better go check on them."

"Oh no. Poor kitty, I hope he is fine." She kisses my cheek. "Go, text me." I kiss and kiss her forehead; I stand up and say a quick goodbye to everyone. I walk outside and when I close the door behind me, I feel my world crumbling.

What would he think of me? What would he say? Will he hate me? Will she hate me? Will they be disappointed?

Fuck.

I call Nick. It rings twice and he picks up.

"Hey, everything okay? why did you called sink?" Nicks voice sounds worried and sincere, it calms me down.

"I just felt overwhelmed." He hums. "Talk to me while I walk home." I say as start walking on the cold night.

"Okay. So, today we took a few pictures for Instagram, I was going to send them to you so you can pick which one I upload but you were busy with your friends and-..."

"Never busy for you. You could have just texted me."

"Whatever."

"Don't roll your eyes at me." I chuckle.

"HOW DO YOU-? you are spying on me, you creep." I can tell he is smiling.

"No, I just know you too well. Keep going."

"Whatever. I haven’t posted them yet, so you can choose. We also bought these gross gummies of different flavors; we will try them on our next video but I also want you to try them."

"Hell no."

"Please, it will be fun. Plus, Ill invite you to sleepover."

"I can just invite myself; I know you don’t mind." I see the building of my apartment; I sit on the front stairs because I don’t want him to hear that I have arrived. I don't want to end the call.

Nick and I talk for a good time. I know he knows I’m home; he isn’t stupid.

"Would you still be my friend if I told you I kind of don’t like Lila...?" I drop suddenly.

"What?... WHAT?" I feel my eyes water. "Shit, that came out wrong. Of course, I’ll still be your friend but why would you say that??"

"Nick... I, shit, Can I go to your house tomorrow? I’ll talk to you then." I hang up and rush to my room. I hear my phone ringing and buzzing but I don’t pick up. I turn it off. I throw myself in my bed and cry.

Guilt and shame fill my heart. I feel sorry for Lila, I feel sorry for myself, I am afraid to lose him. Eventually I fall asleep.

Friday morning, I get ready to go to uni. The day is heavy, my mind filled with thoughts and my heart rushing. By the end of my day, I walk to the outside of campus when I feel two small arms around mine. Lila...

"Where have you been? I have been searching for you all day." I see her friends behind us. I gulp and look down at her.

"Lila... can we talk?" Her eyes widen, maybe she knows what I will say.

"Of course, what happens?" Maybe it’s because she is the one initiating our kisses or cuddles, maybe it’s because I call her baby just because she asked me to. Or because my wallpaper is my best friend, but she knew, and something inside of me knows that she found out.

"I like a guy..." I whisper. Her grip on my arm tightens, her eyes water and mine do to. "I’m sorry, I really am."

"Don’t be..." her voice cracks.

"I hope we can still be friends and-..."

"Give me time. I hope it goes well for you." She turns around and walks away to her friends, they quickly hug her. her face hidden by her hands. They all look bad at me, I get it, I would have done the same. I have done the same, I also looked at myself with hate.

I walk away. I grab my phone and call Nick.

"Jesus, I was so scared. What happened?"

"I broke up with Lila..."

"Oh shit... I- Are you okay? Where are you?" I hear him walking and opening a door.

"Walking to your house. Are your brothers there."

"No, they left. I’m here, I’ll wait for you on the porch."

"Kay, thanks. I’ll be there."

I walk to his house, it’s a bit far. But it gives me time to breath, hold back my tears and swallow my anxiety.

I hope he doesn't hate me...

Taglist: @freshloveforthefit @shywolfapricotfan @sturnphilia @matty-bear @thenickgirl @stvrniolvsp @paige05 @soursturniolo @miloisdone1 @teenagetrash00 @lovely-calypso @h3arts4harry @malirosee

#nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x male reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #nick sturniolo smut

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just-some-friendly-fun · 1 month ago

Text

✦ ᴀ ᴅᴏᴠᴇ'ꜱ ᴡᴀʏ ʜᴏᴍᴇ

: ̗̀➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1: ꜰʟʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜰᴏɢ

current, next chapt

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Awakened after the fall of Iacon--four weeks after, Silversong finds herself in a new environment, spared from a trip to the Allspark. Here she laid in her recovery confused, and alone. Where is D-16? Where is Sentinel Prime?? And what has happened since?...

■ ᴛᴀɢꜱ/ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: OC x Canon, post-canon, pre-established relationship, a lotta mentions of background OC characters, mentions of violence, graphic stuff (explicitly: a bot losing their legs, getting crushed alive, nearly dying, etc...), D-16 and Sentinel Prime are mentioned (but not actively in the chapter), angst, hurt/comfort

✎ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7,653

ׂ╰┈➤ A/N (if needed): Hii, this one was a bit hard to churn out given my initial reluctance but I managed to push forward and plonk! Here it is! Please lmk what else I should tag, I'm still getting back in the groove of writing. Reblogs and any comments are hella appreciated, I've been loving some of the responses on Ao3 <33

I appreciate ygs sm!

▶︎ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɢᴏᴅ ᴄʀʏ? ★ - ɴᴇꜱꜱᴀ ʙᴀʀʀᴇᴛᴛ

Silversong was never one to be attuned to battle, she never had a fighting spark, not in the way that relied on blazing guns, blades, or fists. Her body crafted and forged like all others, for self-defense, and yet she found her weaponries lying on the tip of her metal tongue.

Words her were strongest suit and when they grew dull,

She was left weakened. Exposed, until someone else came to save her from the consequences of her determined, naive spirit. And yet, here she laid with no savior.

Crashed, beneath weighted rubble of golden pillars that slowly lost their luxurious touch into now becoming a burdening weight on her back, crushing her beneath stacks of stone that made for an uncomfortable cushion.

She was standing beside D-16 for a moment, attempting to harbor that same rage he held for the traitorous face they both once praised--worshipped. And although her emotions paved the right path, the world told her--told it to her true and painfully so.

That she wasn't meant for this battle, never was, and should never have intervened.

And they told it to her in the shape of Sentinel's reaching servo as it grabbed her from the air when she hurled herself towards him in a feeble attempt to tackle him off of D-16. She felt his digits seize to her chassis, digits mercilessly locking to the nooks and crannies of her armor, burying the blunt digits between to demand space for himself, to steal himself some purchase in her armor. The metal squealed sharply, causing a sharp wince to exit from her.

An unimpressed expression washed over his features and he tilted his helm mockingly, examining her like some special "bug" he found beneath the sole of his pede.

And like a bug, he flicked her away.

Without a mocking speech, without an arrogant quip—he pitched her away from her intended target, straight into a double set of pillars that crumbled as did she.

She never knew a need for oxygen, nor a breath, but for a moment. She could've sworn she was left gasping and choking for something she's never prayed for, struggling for life as a sickening creak of metal along her back rung loudly in her audial receptors.

Her intervention to a battle far out of her range bit hard at her with its consequences, with fate's teeth snapping down upon her in the threat of tearing her into two.

Her body thrown aside, her feather light frame—made for flying and dancing, speed and performance—now became her most consequential asset.

She could feel her body bend in places it shouldn't have. The screech of metal and steel began to adjoin her agonizing chorus of a weakened cry of pain that cut too soon.

Her optics were pried open out of discomfort, only to watch in horror once the ceiling fell from a stray blast. She screamed, hastily tucking herself further into the shelter she's made before it became her coffin. Silversong could hear D-16 scream, digits outstretched while he laid weakened beneath Sentinel's overbearing pede in the final moments of light.

"Silversong—!"

—and then, her world had gone black... Hopelessly squashed beneath rubble and debris, and sent to the Allspark without falter. No final breaths, no goodbye.

She didn't even get to feel the briefest sliver of relief, nor a chance to even bear hope that her servo would've somehow managed to reach D-16's.

Perhaps, it would've been nice to have believed she had a chance to feel the warmth of his palm in hers. Just one last time...

At least, that's what she remembered her last moments to be. Cold, trapped beneath and becoming nothing but collateral.

Succumbing to the darkness, blanketed by dust and stone, atop a pillow made of the ceiling and ground beneath. She was sure to have died there, nearly certain of it.

. . .

Yet, now as her optics came online for the briefest of moments. Her world changed, a new perspective was painted for her.

With a soft ringing in her audials, she awoke to the sound. Her processor buzzing sharply to keep her online for a moment, to urge her to see this new picture that lay before her.

She was staring at a new palette, gold pieces decorated the ground in various shapes—armor maybe or pieces from the walls, spilt energon not of her own that came steadily from the small fountain of an armless soldier, and the reflection of her weakened state mirroring off the plating of another unfortunate death tracker who shared the same space she did, providing... A strange sense of comfort—company, in replacement of lonesome dread.

Her processor felt fuzzy, faintly buzzing on and off again. Her systems fighting to keep her alive despite all odds.

Her optic-lids felt heavy again and when she blinked,

She was blinded by white fluorescent lights that washed over her in waves and chatter—so much chatter, and distant muffled noises of agony, sorrow...

Who knew her travel to the Allspark would feel so... Crowded, painful, and sound so... Frantic?

Someone called for her, a hazy cry from afar that grew softer and softer while she was pulled from consciousness again.

It felt like a hand was guiding her away from the voice. She felt like a sparkling again, watching a star flicker from afar—or maybe it was never a star at all.

The spark of a wire in a dark alley, the pull of her sisters' servo adjoining both her own. She could hear their voices now as her siblings urged, "Come on! Creator's waitin' on back home!—"

Silversong lazily nodded, her helm swaying to the side as the overbearing light above became too much for her optics. Slowly, but surely she gave in and fled her mind once more to chase after her sisters, fleeing from consciousness. Her optics had gone offline with a gentle flicker.

One.

Two.

Three—

. . .

"-BZZZT—!!"

Every nerve and part of her form was suddenly lit with life, a volt of electricity flooded her frame and she jolted awake. A sharp gasp tore through her throat and she sat up abruptly, only to let out a pained cry. Her body was restored enough to feel the ache and dull pain in every wiring, the sensation leaving her processor to sting uncomfortably along with the rest of her body. Her optics barely managed to adjust enough to make out the blurs that hurriedly pushed her back down onto the flat surface, from what she could feel was, a medical table. Her ventilations kicked in, panic settling into the front seat of her mind and she rolled her helm around, shaking it to clear her vision, "Where-Where am I? What is this!?..." She bleated, lost and confused, moving her arms to grasp at her visually incomprehensible "attackers".

The internal cries of her body resumed, helpless grunts and short screams escaped her. A set of gentle yet firm hands tried to keep her down, their voices coming out in distant bursts of white noise and a verbal mess.

Her spark drummed against her chassis, her optics shot open once again to search the room. Machinery, medical instruments, and all sorts of wiring were hooked up into her and she watched as a diagnostics screen nearby jumped a sharp beep or two at her rising spark-rate. The sharp strokes forming mountains and dipping to low trenches, reflecting back in her eyes.

Her chassis raised and fell rapidly, then a sharp needle struck her chamber as if the very air carried shards. She swallowed a gulp of air and this invisible dagger tried to spear its way out of the cage of her body. She let out a loud wince, forcing herself to lie back against the table.

The blurs slowly took shape, forming into the faces of strangers that cooed and coaxed her to relax, but paired with the awkward feeling of their palms keeping her pinned to the cold, steel table proved to be less than comforting. She wanted nothing more than to arch and shudder.

"Please, stay down," One of them pleaded, though it came out more automatic—robotic even, ironically enough, "You've been severely damaged and it is highly encouraged if you just try to calm down and relax, please," They said, amidst her attempts to shift for a more comfortable resting position.

She was still left partially weakened, attempting to move her legs to further support herself up, but as she tried to kick. She could feel... Something, yet nothing at all.

Silversong stopped her movements, slowly settling again to ease the grasping servos that clung to her, a breath of relief was caught in the air.

Her gaze raised up to the ceiling, avoiding the white light that threatened to blind out her optics, remaining still. The medical-aid bots eased back for a moment, gradually explaining whilst she shifted slowly, trying to move again—steadily this time, to not spring the hands dead-set on pinning her back down, "You're in the Iacon Medbay. You were brought in after the attack on Iacon Tower," They reported, whilst Silversong tried to move her leg again, slowly this time, lifting it up to view. Her optics adjusted in the meantime.

When had her legs felt so light?

When did her body feel so... Free?

No.

Free wasn't the right word. It felt odd—off, something was unnaturally wrong yet she could not figure out what it was.

She tried to twist her frame, much against the suggestions of the nurse bots who tried urging her not to strain herself—to rest and lie but the uncomfortable feeling that something was amiss would not leave her. Curiosity buried its claws into the very top of her processor and she just couldn't let go, nor would it–of her.

In pursuit of her curiosity, and against the better judgement. She turned on her side with a groan and focused her optics in traversing down her body to her-

Her legs.

They were prominently absent from the knee-half down, cleaved off with nothing but ghostly presences to substitute its place. She was left with nubs, uselessly swinging one of them up and down, to and fro to examine the mobility.

She tried not to panic, desperately, but her body was already racing off without her before her processor could even hold to the thought. Her legs were gone—not entirely��but having one-half of each side of her—usually whole—legs as a remainder did not bring her any solace whatsoever.

Her optics shrank and she hastily tried to further sit up—to straighten herself out, or to move away from the scene altogether, stretching back as far as she could. Her spark drummed loudly against her chassis as her faceplate remained frozen in shock.

"o-oh..." She shakily whispered. Her processor was a mess, strings of curiosity latched to one side of her mind and downright, dreadful, fear gripped the other side, pulling her apart steadily by the seams. Silversong was almost internally grateful for whatever pain-numbing, pacifier of a code was running through her systems right now. She glanced steadily over to the wires hooked into her arm.

Luckily, there was no pain, despite all else numbly traversing through her body, like a ghostly sensation of a burn she found no real threat nor energy to spare in reacting to.

She finally looked up to the medibot assistances, one left to patch in for someone to come to the room while the other remained on standby.

"What... What happened to me?" Silversong began steadily, swallowing hard, "How did I end up like this? Where is..." Her self-preservation wavered for a moment, and the only thing she could jog from her memory just right before the crash, was Sentinel and D-16 battling it out.

... D-16!

She pursued to her concern and hastily inquired, "W-Where's Dee... D-16. Where's D-16??" She asked, as the bots gave her confused looks, sparing a glance at each other, tensing once she leaned forth—sparking fear in the medical-aid bot at the possibility of her falling off, "Have you seen a mining bot anywhere named 'D-16'?" Silversong pushed, her optical ridges knitting into the other, "H-He's got yellow optics, and-and..."

Silversong shook her helm, having to remember the newer version of him, "-and a silverish color scheme, a bit of red on 'em, black, a roundish top helm with... angular..." Her description slowly lost its confidence once she saw the continuous expression on their face, lost in not her description, but simply unknown altogether on what—or even who she was talking about.

It pained her to see this look again, and she swallowed hard. She let out a weak, "... No?... Nothing?"

Their prolonged silence and shaken helms gave her an unsettling feeling of confirmation.

She gripped the edges of the table. The nurses exchanged glances at each other, and only one gave a shook of her helm as the other strode to her side, laying their servos carefully on her arm to urge her back to lying down. Silversong tensed briefly, but nonetheless cooperated, taking a deep, steady breath. Their voice filled the closing space between whilst she was getting settled, "I'm... Not sure we have D-16 in the medical bay," They whispered, shaking their helm, "... But I can check for you if you'd like." One of the medical-aid bots offered.

Silversong contemplated for the moment, it'd be a start. The femme took a prolonged inhale and nodded, before shooting off her next inquiry, "... Then do you perhaps know where Sentinel Prime is?" She asked, quietly. For a moment, she bit her inner cheek–wondering for a split-second if she'd been too quiet or sounded too aggressive, and yet. The looks on their features almost appeared as though she screamed the very name at them.

The bots froze in place, one stiffened and the other stepped back—whether from the question she bore or from the mere provocation that came with such an utterance of the designation.

They gazed to one another, sharing a silent exchange, quietly mouthing off to the others too hastily for her to catch a thing that was flying between them. It grew vastly awkward for her to sit and lie in silence, so she nervously ached—to ask and pry.

Yet before she could ask any further. Her parted lips remained open, and no word escaped her as another voice spoke in her turn, "Easy now, Silversong. Everything's okay,"

In a desperation for a sense of familiarity, she whipped her helm to the other side to the voice, having spotted a recognizable face. The heavy burden and dread that gnawed at her, began to recede. The weight nearly disappearing right off her pauldrons. Her optics brightened, life restored from within and her features softened, "Sire..."

Razorcase stepped in through the doorway, looking towards the other nurse-bots for the moment as he quietly mouthed, "could you give us a moment?"

Without further command, they nodded, slipping out in a single file line, servos tucked before them to go attend to other matters. The doors automatically closed off behind them with a quiet hiss, and by then. Silversong finally bore a moment to let out a sigh of relief as Razorcase approached her. She lazily stretched her arms out and welcomed his frame against her own.

Her body was nearly freezing from being housed in the medical room for so long. She wasn't even certain how long it had been since she'd arrive, or how long she'd been at rest, but one thing was for certain. It was good to finally recognize someone.

Silversong pulled back and tilted her helm, her gaze of relief steadily melting away into a woeful expression. Perhaps Razorcase would know what was going on, "Sire, what's... What's happened?" She began, "Where is... Where is everyone? Anyone? What happened?? Why am I..."

Their gazes followed back down her legs, or lack thereof.

She swallowed the tension in her throat again and Razorcase sighed, guiding her face back to his. He plastered a soft smile, laying his digits flat against the side of her head, concealing her gaze from straying too far back.

"Hey-Hey, just look at me right now, okay? Just- pay attention to me, okay. Don't look," Razorcase plead, cradling her faceplate.

In turn, Silversong meekly nodded, sparingly glancing at his digits that narrowed her view back to him before focusing as he sighed and gazed around the room. Upon finding a suitable chair of sorts nearby. He kept a hand on her cheek and stretched out his arm and digits as far as he could touch, grazing the stool with his fingers before coaxing it on over to sit upon. He drew closely once again to Silversong as he began to speak up and answer back on her previous questions; one of them at least.

"For starters, you were recovered from Sen-" He paused, disposing the name off his glossa, "Iacon Tower, you were recovered from Iacon Tower after the big attack. You were-" He sat back and watched his daughter sit up to listen further.

He struggled for a moment before holding out his servos to animatedly gesture to each word, to paint an empty picture in the air, "supposedly, you were found crushed beneath a couple bits of rubble, and debris. Someone pulled you out from the wreckage while sifting through the mess to attend to any of the injured caught in the crossfire," He laid his hands back to his knees and continued on, "Your sister found you amidst the wreckage and-"

At that, Silversong stiffened and instead of gratitude a stroke of distaste settled on her glossa. She let out a pronounced echo of the designation—the answer was hardwired into her very veins, "... Sunblitz?"

Unaware, Razorcase nodded, his audial finials flicking shortly, "yes, she's at home right now. All of us are a little shaken up at the moment from all that's happened," He hummed. And he would've continued on, explaining how worried sick her family had been for her absence, her disappearance and for their near loss.

But at the moment, Silversong's mind grew steadily vacant while she began to roll back into the depths of her mind, nodding emptily without a thought. Her internal thoughts began to war on in the back of her mind.

Silversong slowly curled her servos into fists, laying them onto the table she rested upon. Her expression fought not to scowl.

She didn't necessarily see to Sunblitz as a personal savior of sorts, gratitude lay last on the back of her tongue of the multitude of things she wished to say, to ask, to even scream at her sister. Had she had returned to Iacon earlier than she did, had she not gone at all with D-16, Orion, and the others, maybe once she would've leapt at her sister and sobbed with joy for being saved but, now where her mind laid. There was a twisted feeling in her spark that lay pronounced, weighing in on the vines and tangled circuitry, pulling inwards on herself and threatening to choke her like a vice.

She closed her optics for a moment and pushed back into the depth of her memory core.

✦ ✦ ✦

"No, no, no! Let—go of me! They're going to kill them! He's going to kill them, Sunblitz!" She cried, furiously kicking her legs and squirming as Sunblitz hauled her off as if she was no better than a sack of powder over her shoulder. She was being treated like a child—a stubborn child who would not leave nor obey and nothing but fear and anger filled her systems.

She could see the golden gates shrinking further and further before they turned a corner, and Silversong furiously tried to break free from her sister's claw as it caught on her back to secure her in place.

Her sobs filled the hallways, and she stretched her arms out, twisting and writhing without the fear to fall, so long as she had a mere inkling that it would provide her an opportunity to escape, "Why aren't you listening to me—!?" She wept loudly, voice shrill, "He's going to kill them! We have to stop him, please. Listen to me! Sunblitz—!!"

With every struggle and helpless push to pry herself from her eldest's unyielding grip, Sunblitz gritted her dentas at the squirming. She subtly quickened her pace and adjusted her grip to secure Silversong more properly. Sunblitz needed to evacuate Silversong off the premise, immediately.

The last thing Sunblitz wanted to do at the moment was to have Silversong run back just to get herself shot down the moment those doors opened, but she'd hardly doubt even with such an explanation. Silversong would merely brush it aside to run headfirst back anyways, even more proudly with a sign strapped to her that said "shoot me" above all else.

Sunblitz's patience wore thin and her frustrations rose amidst the other conflicting feelings that whirled through her mind, fighting—albeit in a limited manner—to keep her sister still, "Stop- moving!"

In response? Silversong persisted, flailing and kicking- screaming out in frustration between broken cries. Sunblitz scrunched her expression. She could've sworn her audial receptors were nearly blown out from the noise and briefly paused in her steps to get a better handle on her.

Sunblitz gasped and hastily raised a servo to block the knee that nearly struck her in the nose, grunting with frustration, "I—ugh—this is for your own good, Silversong. If you go back there, you're going to die!" She expressed firmly, reluctant to gripping her any tighter in fear of her claws damaging the metal of her back.

As a result of her fear, Sunblitz was nearly struck again in the faceplate with Silversong's knee, hastily blocking it once more and nearly dropping her.

Silversong grunted and continued to fight back, protesting as she furiously wiped her optics, "but they're in there, Sunblitz! Why are you doing this!?" She said, curling her servos into fists and slamming it down onto Sunblitz's back, "Sentinel Prime is going to kill them, he's going to kill them like he did the Primes!"

Sunblitz stiffened, nearly dropping Silversong down onto her pedes to look at her sister for such a confession, throwing her gaze over her shoulder. Her optics were blown wide to the skies at such a critical accusation, or perhaps. It had been a truth too devastating, nearly disrupting her processor workings entirely.

Sunblitz breathed and looked to her lost gaze, searching for the lies in the coolant droplets spilling down Silversong's face. In return, Silversong had her own discoveries when she held Sunblitz's gase, her lips pursing.

You didn't know, she thought,

But regardless, she took to the distraction and shook her helm raising it to knee Sunblitz in the nose as she let out a loud, "ACK!-"

Successfully, Silversong was dropped to her knees and the flier attempted to rush past but Sunblitz servo seized around her wrist; the other covering her now bleeding nose. She reeled Silversong back in, forcing her confusion away to prioritize bringing Silversong home, away from the danger she was looking to dive straight into, "I can't let you go back!" Sunblitz said, eyeing at the frantic femme who tried to pry open her digits.

Silversong cried out again, "But Dee's in there!" She screamed.

Not a single budge.

"I can't have you going back in there, this is for your own good!" She chastised, attempting to resume her steps, now flinching as the sounds of Silversong's pedes firmly planted into the ground began to echo across the corridor in metallic screeches that joined her protesting wails.

"What good?!" She wiped her tears with the back of her servo and stomped into the ground firmly to find a position of purchase, something that'd catch her pede to stop the harsh dragging, "You're going to let a room full of people- a-a bunch of the royal High Guard, betrayed by Sentinel Prime, abandoned by Sentinel Prime—die!?" "He's going to publically execute them all! He's going to publically execute my conjunx!" She urged, why wasn't Sunblitz understanding this?!

She kept pleading with Sunblitz as she hoped Sunblitz would falter, to listen and heed her plea.

Yet, she looked up to meet Sunblitz gaze, a look of indifference at the mention of her mere conjunx slowly washed over her, and not a scratch of sympathy resurfaced the same for the High Guards. Her spark dropped at the cold look, even with the sunlight pouring from the windows to wash against Sunblitz's face. It was no better than looking to a cold statue. With stiff, and yet again purposeful steps, she yanked Silversong forward and proceeded on—willing to drag her off if it meant getting her away from those. That. Room.

In her disbelief, Silversong nearly forgot to fight, to pull away- to do anything in the face of what she had just witnessed. Sunblitz's face hadn't changed, not one bit and for a moment, Silversong wondered if she was merely keeping herself indifferent, merely faking it, lying and merely pushing forward on this. So, she persisted, "You'd let that happened!? You'd let this all happen?!"

Nothing.

In her sodden state, she shook her helm. This couldn't be her sister! she cried out. Her voice rang off the walls, "YOU'D LET THEM ALL DIE LIKE THIS—?!"

Sunblitz stopped, momentarily. Her wing lightly flicked and slowly, she looked back and stared directly into Silversong's optics. Her spark plummeted even further, deeper into her chassis until she could hear the soft "plop!" as it struck into her tank and sank further.

Sunblitz almost looked... Agitated—or worse off yet, bored, a recognizable feature she had seen occasionally, once—maybe time and time again in her younger years, but she never cared to hold her words long when she made that look. It was ridiculing, frustrating at times. But by now as Silversong looked at her kin's face, it merely read clearly throughout the thick silence that drifted between them.

Her gaze was nearly shadowed over, a patient yet impatient look in her gaze. Her lips pressed into a thin line, subtly forming to a soft frown. Sunblitz stared down at her, and Silversong felt no better than she did as a sparkling long ago after a tantrum. Her eyes read clear:

"Are you done yet?"

Silversong's optics began to dry as a wringing sense of dread took hold of her at the upcoming realization, "... oh my god..." Her voice escaped her intake like mere dust to the wind, soft and carried off with everything she had left and knew of her sister once then.

She wasn't even sure if this was the same femme now either, perhaps a new spark under old skin.

She didn't like it, not one bit.

Sunblitz gently squeezed her arm and Silversong whimpered at the slightest trace of pain. Her servo didn't even ease for a klik, instead her gaze hardened and Sunblitz mustered up her words, "... Family comes first, and they are not." She bitterly addressed.

"-B-But Dee was with me, he's mine. He's apart of this family!-"

"He was never apart of anything." She swiftly interjected, burying words as sharp as a steel dirk straight into her chassis. And by then, she felt no satisfaction, deciding to twist her words even further until they gutted the younger's spark, "He's just some dusty, insignificant mining bot, a rusty cog—you can find a new one just the same down there. Better yet, find a real, cogged bot!" She said, harshly pulling once more at the empty, husk Silversong felt to be, standing in complete shock as this... Stranger took hold of her and tried to tug her again.

She didn't want to leave anymore, not like she had an inkling of an idea to do so but now? There was no argument, she won't leave, not with this thing that called itself—'Sunblitz'.

For a moment, the yellow-eyed femme's gaze softened, creeping down from the high and demanding pedestal she stood upon before, to speak once again in a hushed voice. She released Silversong's arm for a moment, instilling a cautious piece of trust that she wouldn't run back.

Silversong retracted her arm and rubbed to it, not a word escaped neither of them. What could she have even said in response?!

She spoke of D-16 as if he were a mere toy to her, her own conjunx—a replaceable thing? How could she?! She talked of him as if he meant nothing to her! All the years she spent with a partner she openly loved thrown away, and then replaced?!

She spoke like...

Her spark began to slowly gut itself and the realization dawned upon her.

... Exactly like how Sentinel Prime would.

Sunblitz took a deep sigh and her indifference tucked away behind a lightly sorrowful gaze. She reached out again, "I'm sorry, Silversong." Sunblitz began, as her sibling began to take a step back.

"...Sorry?" She scoffed, as Silversong shook her helm and narrowed her glossy eyes back at her, "You won't even say what you're sorry for! Are you really sorry?? Are you truly sorry about it? What are you sorry for?"

"Look, I-"

"Oh, 'I'm sorry for not giving a damn about your conjunx!' or maybe is it 'I'm sorry for talking badly about your conjunx, who I don't care for and who's about to die by the hands of a traitor!' could it even be 'I'm sorry for taking you away in general and turning tail away from the big problem that is Sentinel, and fleeing—like a coward!'" She shouted, spitting back what was mere flecks and embers of the flame that seared within her frame. Rage burned through her fuel lines and threatened to ignite her very body.

Sunblitz's soft gaze faltered in slight surprise before holding face while Silversong stepped forth again to punctuate every unanswered question that came out, the rapid fires saving no room for answers. Only with the intent to provoke and pull the answers right out of Sunblitz, did she continue, "Aren't you supposed to be apart of the Iaconian Security Division?! Aren't you supposed to be protecting the people?!" Silversong boldly claimed.

"I am your sister, and your family first and foremost above all!" Sunblitz argued back, "it was the very reason I took this job, to protect us! The citizens came second!" She emphasized, indulging in this argument, "Of course, I care about them. But not as much as I do—you, can't you see that?! You are- if you keep up with this... Reckless charge into a battle that you clearly can't—handle!" Sunblitz lunged out with her servo extended and snagged Silversong's arm, pulling her forth again, face to face, "You are going to get yourself offlined!"

She scoffed, "But this is how I have to keep you, and our family safe, like it or not." The steady and resisted march was upcoming again, but Silversong would refuse it this time. She will be going back to that room if it was the last thing possible.

Sunblitz pulled her again, and the soft screech breached the air again, forcing them both to cringe, "You have to understand this. I-"

Suddenly, out of shear anger and adrenaline, Silversong allowed Sunblitz to pull her forth and with the momentum, she hopped up before swinging her helm forward as hard as she could—a crack rang through the air as her fore-helm smashed against Sunblitz's nose, again.

"AUGH! WHAT THE FFH-"

Sunblitz shouted in pain as she released Silversong who wasted no time in spinning back on her heel, nearly slipping and facing the wrath of Sunblitz's hurriedly outstretched claws. She dodged the sharpened digits that came down to clutch at nothing but the air.

Silversong took a deep breath and accessed Sunblitz crouched form, jumping up and aiming her pedes right in Sunblitz face, the thrusters attached by the ends flickered to life before igniting, further blinding her sister who screamed out, her servos clutching at her optics.

Sunblitz swung blindly, knicking her heel as Silversong fled away, her afterburners kicking into high gear. She winced at the sharp pain that rested on the back of her pede, and she could hear Sunblitz scream aggressively down the halls, "SILVERSONG—!!"

With every word traveling down the corridor, she could've sworn a heat wave traveled with the echo. Silversong could feel the metal of her skin melt at the very heat of her voice, but she refused to look back, focused on returning to D-16. Sunblitz's cries echoing down the hall one last time, searing sounds of her rage formulated into four commanding words that branded themselves into her memory.

"GET- BACK HERE—!! SILVER—!!"

She had hardly remembered when her sister had ever sounded so brutally guttural, and it left her to shudder what would happen even if if she did go back.

✦ ✦ ✦

"... But eventually, we were waiting for you to wake up after awhile and-"

Silversong shook her helm to reel herself back to reality, nearly giving herself whiplash for the moment. She lifted her helm from the surface of her dream-like state and gazedto him, the rings in her optical lenses shrinking for a moment,

"A-Awhile?" She echoed, "How long was I out for?"

Razorcause paused in his words, gauging on his memory core for a moment, "Four weeks, and four days, give or take," He said.

Her optics dimmed and her optical ridges raised. She dropped her optics down to her servo and then back to her legs, casting a scan once over to the room that surrounded, four weeks and four days?—she thought, having initially suspected she was only out for two days, maybe three but four, and four weeks?! How much had changed???

"Four weeks and four... No, that can't be right," She shook her helm with disbelief, looking to her sire who remained indifferent. He flicked his wrist and lazily gestured through the air, "time flies fairly fast when you're asleep," He tried to reason, before pausing again to fold his servos back into his lap. He swallowed hard and reluctantly began, "we weren't even sure if you were going to make it.. Really." He admitted, "the doctor said you had suffered severe damage along through every part of your body. You had struck the ground pretty hard, knocked your processor silly, nearly crushed, and half of your body had been pressed at an awkward angle and the shifting mass on top of you ended up trying to slowly slide down and sever your legs from your mainframe. The paramedics had arrived to stabilize you enough, before taking you to the medical bay."

His servos became his brush, illustrating through the air with blunt movements, framing a crude picture for her, "Unfortunately with how you were beneath the rocks, it was either we- or more properly they had to either save the upper half of your body or your legs and so, evidently. They had pulled your upper half free to save your functioning processor but..." His words became adrift, and his optics guided her back to her current situation now. Silversong slowly lifted one of the nubs of her legs, allowing Razorcase to continue, "your legs were severed as a cost and crushed inevitably,"

He cleared his throat and plastered a more reassuring look upon his gaze, smiling halfheartedly, "but don't fret. I've already taken care of it. You'll be getting new replacements here, and soon. They'll hardly look a speck bit different than your old ones, but it will require some adjustments to get used to the-"

"Sire," She quietly interjected, and yet the sound of her voice alone made all of Razorcase's thoughts quell to silence again. He casted a gaze back to his daughter who'd been patient, but the features and the anxious look beyond her eyes gave away the curiosity that took root behind her complacency for remaining on the sidelines.

For the moment, Razorcase retracted from rambling any further, and slowly but surely offered the floor for Silversong's personal inquiries. A look of gratitude washed over her features as she drew in a breath, and sighed, "what... Happened, while I was out...? Where's..." She swallowed, "Where's D-16? What's happened to him? Please, please tell me you know where he is," Silversong urged, reaching for her creator's servo.

He said nothing of the sorts, looking to her with an unreadable expression. His silence left her features to grow more fretful and she gently squeezed his digits, beginning to sputter up again, "O-Or perhaps a mining bot named 'Orion Pax'! Or 'Elita-1'! Maybe a particular bot named 'Bumble-'"

"I-I'm afraid I'm not exactly sure about... D-16's whereabouts at the moment. Or... Any of these bots you're referring to. He..." He threatened to bite down on his glossa, but the sorrowful look in Silversong's gaze wrung his spark out. He couldn't lie to her like this, he just couldn't.

He fought to twist his own words, gritting his dentas before pushing it on out from his mouth, "He wasn't recovered,"

"What?!" She sat straight up and the slight strain from her sudden movements caused her frame to creak along her lower side. She grunted in discomfort and fell to her elbow. Razorcase shot up from his stool, knocking it over to help ease Silversong back into lying down. He quickly made amends for the vague response, hurriedly reassuring her, "I-I mean that his body wasn't found, my dear. Not yet! He wasn't buried where you were, nor anywhere in the tower," He said. Silversong locked gazes with him and gripped to his hand like her life had depended on it.

A thousand and one thoughts flooded her mind, and Razorcase only had as many answers as any bot did to this entire ordeal. He had solely wished he knew more, the very thought of sparking fear into his daughter was the last thing he wanted. Swallowing harshly, he continued pushing forth what little explanations he did bear privy to, "I'm sorry. I do not have the full grasp nor understanding of everything that's happened, my dear, Silversong. I truly wish I did," He squeezed her servo in turn, "Despite the cycles that have passed, I don't know what happened... Not completely on what went down in in the center of Iacon city. We were told things but, the city isn't quite certain with what to know as the truth and..." He paused, a brief sour expression on his face, "a lie..." He said, holding her close, "So you must understand why I am... hesitant in answering you."

Silversong slowly reciprocated and gripped to his back, her spark thrumming loudly in her chassis. It echoed into the cavity of her mind. She closed her optics and pursed her lips, trying deeply to call out to his spark with her own.

Surely if he were still alive, he'd respond back, wouldn't he?

She didn't want to—Silversong refused to believe her conjunx had died in the mix of things. She couldn't accept that!

Her spark called out for his in the dark, yearning, aching for a response back. It pulsed and internally cried out for his, making everything else around her seem far beyond. It brightened and burned in her spark chamber, trying to find for a sign, a signal, a message only she could recognize and translate.

She waited and held her sire close, squeezing his frame in a tight hug that he slowly returned, knowing well what was happening.

Her spark screamed for D-16's.

...

And all she could hear back, was the sound of her own beats, a steady yet faltering rhythm.

A song meant for two, now left unfinished. Nothing responded. Not a glimmer, and not a glimpse into his soul.

He was either too far away, or too far gone.

She released her arms from Razorcase, her helm shaking slightly. Her optics were beginning to steadily pool while she whispered to herself, "No, no, no, no... This cannot be...!"

Her sire sighed and he gently cupped her face to gather her attention back to him, picking up the pieces of his shattering daughter, "Silversong. Silversong, listen to me, please, whatever is toiling in the depths of your mind, whatever woes and fears you have of your conjunx's spark being extinguished. You cull them, immediately. It does not mean he is... Offline." He tried to reassure, drawing his thumbs back and forth on her cheeks simultaneously to every tear that leaked from the edge of her optics. It wounded him gravelly as he frowned and his spark became choked at the sight, "He's just lost, not found yet. There is a knowing chance, he is still with us," He whispered, gently wiping her tears, "You need to take care of yourself at the moment. It's what D-16 would've wanted-"

"But my sparkmate! I cannot just neglect him, sire! He would be looking for me all the same, and maybe he is!" She protested, pulling her face away from his servos, and mulling heavily to the idea.

"Silversong, please." He gently held to her arm and urged strongly, holding her pauldrons. She reluctantly looked back to him, more eager to act rather than to think. Silversong breathed, her expression full of nothing but concern, "You are in no condition to be going anywhere, young femme. So, please... I am begging you to stay here for just a bit longer until they can piece you back together. Unless you decide otherwise to go crawling about Iacon in search of your beloved," He tried to reason, deeply sighing, "... That wouldn't be very efficient now, would it, my dear?"

Slowly, but surely, her processor gave into submission, forfeiting on a desire to act for more of a cautionary and reasonable approach. Her mind was scattered, her woes on one end, her concerns and fears bouncing along the other, and she didn't know what to do and where to begin uncoiling every wire and thread that looped into knots within the sanctuary of her mind, but at the forefront of it all. All she could worry on at the moment was about her conjunx, whether he was hurt, scared, confused just as she was.

Primus, she'd hope he was safe and alive.

"I understand and I know, how much you lay your concerns for the bot but you must put yourself first," Her father tried to continue easing her thoughts at the moment, pushing aside the foggy mess that lay beyond her forlorn optics. His thumb strayed along the underside of her optics, wiping away any trails of coolant-filled tears that had yet to dry, smearing the trails, "Think of it this way, if... You stay here long enough, maybe he'll come looking for you here, and once you're fully recovered and repaired. You can go look for him and you both will find each other, reunited again at last!" He hopefully chimed, his optics brightening with encouraged enthusiasm, hoping they'd mirror over onto her sympathetic, blue optics that glowed dimly beneath his watch.

He held her, cradling her expression gently again, "Wouldn't you like that, Silversong?"

Her gaze flickered, running through the maze of her mind to find one sole response and in reply. She quietly sighed and nodded, resting a servo on the back of his own while he held her face, "I suppose," She admitted.

Her creator softened his gaze and gradually released his touch from her face, spinning around to mindfully collect the stool he had previously knocked over in his sudden rush.

Silversong sighed and held her servos together, sitting up once again to look into her lap. She took a deep breath and closed her optics, tilting her helm back. Everything was a complete mess, and she certainly wouldn't be going time soon to look for her answers.

So, she sought to the most immediate source to try and put together her thoughts all in one coherent picture, calling upon her sire who settled beside the medical table,

"Would you care to tell me, in the meantime of... What's happened?" She anxiously started up, then hurriedly pushed out the rest of her words before Razorcase met her gaze once more.

She fidgeted, resting her servos just short of behind her. Silversong brushed her index digit against the steel platform she laid upon, continuously with each passing klik, almost trying to scratch and dig into the metal with no real effort, "I remember a couple things, but, ever since I blacked out during the attack on Sentinel Prime's tower, I-I... Don't remember much that happened after," She admitted, her mind blooming with a multitude of concerns—namely her sister.

She hadn't seen of Sunblitz, until in regards of their last interaction that ended rather bitterly.

Her own agitation and initial vexation giving away briefly for a moment of concern for Sunblitz and whether she recovered from their "interactions", but for now. She hid it amongst the other overflow of inquiries to speak upon later, and maybe- perhaps with Sunblitz.

"I know... of a lot of things, an overwhelming amount, since I've left with D-16 and the others to venture out of Iacon but, it seems that I've missed out on a whole lot more during my recovery. Could you help me?" She asked, lifting her helm to gaze at her father.

Razorcase's optical ridges raised and after a moment or two of silence. He nodded gradually and pulled his stool closer just until his knees would touch against the steel legs of the table,

"Of course. Why don't we start with what you remember?" He began, "And I'll help fill in the rest after you tell me of your part of the story, hm?" He seemed willing to help her complete this puzzle.

Relieved, Silversong smiled softly and nodded in turn,

"... That would be lovely, yes,"

#tf oc #oc #original character #oc x canon #fic #fanfiction #transformers #transformers one #tfo #mentioned: d-16 and Sentinel Prime #transformers oc #Silversong (oc)#Razorcase (oc)#macaddam #maccadam #Silversong x D-16 #god. I really wanna throw her (Silversong) into the woods...#tf one

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roboticnebula · 1 year ago

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Trick or treat!

You get a… trick?

This is a snippet from a fic concept I’m exploring but still hesitant to actually write! It started out as a silly ‘Barry and Jay are in a passive-aggressive argument and Alan and Hal do not understand how is it the speedsters are fighting instead of them’. And then it got... sad.

Background AlanJay and Halbarry.

Jay is aware he and Barry are arguing over two barely distinguishable shades of beige paint for the guest room, but their fight isn’t really about the paint color anyways. Alan and Hal made themselves scarce a few hours ago, the moment Jay commented he didn’t want his guest room to be the same shade as Barry’s sweater vests, and Barry immediately retorted it was a good thing Jay wouldn’t actually be the one sleeping in the room then.

This was after a long debate over paint swatches, where both Alan and Hal’s inputs that the room should have a nice non-beige color, had gone entirely unheard. The lanterns had realized they were standing in the blast zone and been unwilling to risk becoming collateral damage. Jay is glad to see that after all these long years with them, the GLs are finally starting to be smart about the whole fearless thing.

It’s a good thing they left when they did too, because paint started flying quickly after. The walls of the guest room are absolutely atrocious right now, randomly sploshed with paint and primer, a whole gallon wasted and spilled all over the floor, but Barry and Jay have retreated to the kitchen to wash up and calm down. Jay is leaning against the counter, waiting for the water to boil for his tea. He’s got paint in his hair, but hasn’t bothered to try and get it off, only rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands. Barry is very quiet as he scrubs his arms and forehead free of the paint, his annoyance is palpable in the air, and Jay doesn’t know why he’s so irritated when he insisted on helping out with repainting the room.

Barry won’t leave him alone these days, it’s annoying.

“Did you go get that extra gallon from the garage, yet?” Jay asks him, gruffly.

Something flashes in Barry’s eyes: sad, scared, quickly buried, and Jay realises it’s not the first time he’s asked.

“Yes,” says Barry.

For the first time all day, his tone is light and neutral, instead of passive aggressive, and the patience behind it annoys Jay even more, a flush of rage crawling up his throat. The phone is deadly quiet on the countertop between them, and Jay vacillates between grateful and irritated that Barry is handling him with kid gloves.

They both know what diagnostic is coming: it’s why Jay hasn’t actually kicked Barry out of his house yet, even if he’s still mad at him for confronting him about this and convincing him to go get tested. Jay didn’t want to be alone when he got the call. Jay didn’t want to get the call at all, doesn’t want to have to break the news to Alan and have Barry, Wally, Bart and the others worry. He wants to stay in denial, wants more time. At 90, Jay hasn’t been bitter about slowing down until this very moment: when it gives his own damned mind the chance to fall apart at the seams.

Barry is saying something about the quality of the wall primer when he’s interrupted by the shrill ringtone of the phone. They both fall quiet and stare at it, their fight entirely forgotten. Barry practically falls in the seat in front of Jay, but doesn’t press: they’re both stretching the seconds of this moment, remain on the cusp of change before it becomes irreversible.

Jay’s first instinct is to run the phone to the Atlantic Ocean and chuck it, but he focuses on Barry and catches his own reflection in the oven door behind him. They both look ridiculous, the first two Flashes, covered in paint, and childishly arguing. He laughs, slightly hysterical, but also absolutely delighted. He looks at Barry and thinks: this man is my legacy, I would not choose any other and it gives him the courage he needs. He stays standing up, picks up the phone and places it down on speaker between them.

“Mr. Garrick, this is Dr. Brady. I have your test results in front of me and I’m sorry but I have some bad news.”

---

The idea would be to explore speedster physiology as they age/effects of the speed force long term/what that healing factor can handle, but also how chosen family can rally around you when you’re dealing with something like Alzheimer.

Apart from some stray notes and drafts, this snippet is all I have to show for it for now.

Thank you for the ask, I hope you enjoyed! Happy Halloween!

#the flash #barry allen #jay garrick #halbarry #alanjay #trick or treat ask #my writing #my fics #flash greenade #alzheimers tw

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halfsizehellboy · 1 year ago

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wilson being primarily sensory avoidant makes so much sense to me. He’s on the quieter side, I've mentioned light sensitivity before, and he is super tame compared to house, who is definitely sensory seeking in a lot of ways. We've seen both of them forgo crowded parties or social events, either together or separately. wilson can’t keep his mask that long, and house just doesn't get along with people. I also don't think wilson likes the complexity of noise that is dozens of conversations, eating noises, background music, and appliance electricity that makes up a social dinner event. He likes to attend the talks and lectures because then at least only one person is talking. He likes it to be quiet and dark when he’s tired, and it’s the one thing he’s been able to enforce in his and house’s apartment. I think wilson’s got that light-touch aversion, so if you bear hug him and slap him on the shoulder every once in a while he’s all good. He definitely owns a weighted blanket.

Which makes poetic sense that house is sensory seeking— his nerves are fucked from surgery and vicodin, and he doesn’t always feel stuff like he used to, but he still looks for stimulation everywhere. He blasts his music, throws his ball around, and starts arguments because that’s a fun thing for him. Sex is sensory, and he seeks that out too. He drinks alcohol because it makes him feel more that he wants and a little less of his leg. Jumping off the balcony into the pool? Sensory seeking that adrenaline rush. He spends that entire episode trying to drown out his bad feelings with good feelings.

Their apartment is insane, and it took a long time to balance it. Their bedroom is soundproofed for many reasons, and once they’ve organized it how they like it it rarely changes (sometimes wilson will feel insane and reorganize the kitchen or bathroom). Their bedroom has always stayed the same. Wilson has a home office in the other bedroom that is always supposed to be a quiet zone, and House doesn’t take home work. They have two wheely office chairs though, because sometimes house’s leg can’t be weight bearing and he still needs to get around the apartment. There’s a designated sensory sheet, which is for hiding under or dimming lights.

They sleep in ways that accommodate house’s leg, but wilson usually smashes his face against house’s chest/neck/back. sometimes wilson scratches his scalp more as stimming/compulsion or a habit, but it can quickly get to be harmful because it’s so often a bad times thing. if they’re at home, house will replace wilson’s hands with his own and scratch more with his fingertips than his nails, or just pets his head for a while. At the hospital he just slaps at wilson’s hands because it’s funnier.

wilson does not have many sensory toys/fidgets or external regulation things, if he needs one he’ll usually just borrow one of house’s (with permission bc house needs to know where things are all the time). But he does have two rubbery sensory brush things (I'm projecting they're called tactile tigers. I have cried over almost losing one and I will be buried with mine. I also have two because one stays in my room and one goes everywhere outside my room) that he adores. He doesn't need them all the time but he always has one. He rubs it on the back of his neck, in his hands, all over his arms, even on his face. He absolutely keeps stealing the shot blockers from the peds wing because they’re awesome for fidgeting, and sometimes he needs one for his patients too.

Ok, hear me out on this: I usually get tired of cgi/ newer movies because they don't interest me a lot, and I can like. Tell whats computered and what’s real. there’s less joy in it for me to figure out how they did it. I think wilson is the same way. Older movies had less tech, so they had to get creative with how they make things: jurassic park’s giant animatronic t rex, chocolate syrup blood in black and white movies, and all those other practical effects that lower/mid budget movies used to use. It’s often so much more interesting to recognize the spray painted oven mitt slug or the tinsel-wrapped terrier, than it is to see a completely computer generated creature. I am not shitting on CGI or CGI artists!! It’s super cool tech and an awesome profession!! I just have eyes that fatigue very easily, and older movies aren’t as HD ergo not as hard on my eyes. And I like figuring out how they did practical effects and I think wilson would really like that too.

I think next i’m gonna ramble about sexy things?? I feel insane

#house md #autistic wilson #audhd house #vertigo poster my beloved #tactile tiger my beloved

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bowsie22 · 1 year ago

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Whumptober 2023 #1

Whumptober 1 - "How many fingers am I holding up?"

His head hurt, why did his head hurt? Wu Xie groaned, not wanting to open his eyes. After so many head injuries he already knew what would happen. He'd open his eyes, light would hit them and then Wu Xie would wince and move, making his head hurt even worse.

It really was a sad state of affairs that he was this familiar with head injuries, wasn't it? Taking a deep breath, Wu Xie cracked an eye open, hoping to find some answers. He remembered standing at the entrance to the main room in the tomb while Xiazi argued with Pangzi over how much dynamite was needed to blast through the door. Everything was a bit of a blur after that. Xiaoge shouting for him, Xiao Hua swearing, loud noises. Then a lot of pain.

Wu Xie swore, realising what had happened. He’d been caught up in the explosion. And separated from his friends, which was just typical of his luck. Taking a deep breath, he prodded at the sore spot on his head, hissing at the sharp pain that burst through him. That was a lot of blood, wasn't it? Xiaoge was going to be furious with him, he promised the other no more head wounds, at least not for a month. And that was only three weeks ago.

Oh, his eyes were going weird. Had there always been that many torches on the walls? Or so many figures on that mural? Were they dancing? Wait, Wu Xie squinted, no. That was Xiaoge and Xiao Hua moving through the rubble. Wu Xie starts humming, trying to get their attention. He cycles through a few different melodies, settling on Baby Shark. Annoying but effective if the hurried scrambling he heard meant anything.

Xiaoge fell to his knees beside Wu Xie, fingers probing his head wound, ignoring the wounded look sent his way. “Xiao Hua, let the others know he has a head wound and it’s bleeding a lot! Wu Xie, look at me sweetheart. How many fingers am I holding up?” Oh, he wasn’t falling for this again, Xiaoge has tricked him too many times with this. “You’re not getting me this time Xiaoge, the thumb is not a finger.” He hears Xiao Hua snort in the background. “God, I forgot how annoying concussed Wu Xie is.”

Xiaoge hummed, more concerned with getting Wu Xie to his feet. Turns out more than his head hurt. The older shushed him as he whined, “I know. You got a bit more buried than the rest of us, there’s a lot of cuts and bruises. We’ll get you out and to a hospital and you’ll feel better in no time, ok?” Wu Xie nodded, always trusting Xiaoge. He could relax now; Xiaoge and his friends would look after him, like they always did. Wu Xie giggled to himself, he had good friends, the best, he was so lucky. He should tell them that! “You guys are the best and I am so lucky you came into my life. Otherwise, I’d be stuck with my uncles, and they suck.”

He rambles as he’s lead out of the tomb and deposited into the car, continuing through the medical examination in the hospital, everything that came into his mind being said. Wu Xie only stops talking when he’s settled into a hospital bed and told he can sleep for a while. Xiaoge sits at his bedside, holding his hand while Pangzi and Xiazi argue over what to watch on the TV in the private room. Xiao Hua, ordering food to the room, takes the remote and switches to the news. Laughing, Wu Xie relaxes into the bed as the familiar routine carries on. He really was lucky.

A/N First entry for Whumptober 2023. The plan is to do all 31, but we’ll see how that goes

#whumptober2023 #no. 01 #“how many fingers am I holding up?”#lost tomb #pingxie #dmbj

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kasiers · 7 months ago

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HOT 'N COLD — IWAIZUMI HAJIME

pairing: husband!iwaizumi hajime x reader

synopsis: his body warmth makes cuddling tough for you due to him running naturally hot while you ran naturally cold, he realizes this and feels guilty but makes it up to you <3

contains: gn!reader, timeskip iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer YESS! established relationship, domestic fluff, pet names, cuddling

word count: 1.5k

a/n: shout out to mn gc <3 this ones for u guys and to my ghost writer LOLLL i love u guys i got this prompt from them :p

Summer mornings weren’t that hot, though as the day progressed the heat became almost unbearable. Despite the air conditioner running at full blast, the nights remained suffocating. It didn’t help that your husband ran naturally hot.

You always found it a bit funny how warm he was, especially since it contrasted you, who was the complete opposite in terms of body warmth. Yet, his body heat felt like an oven almost.

Even so, you never complained. Hajime loved to cuddle, it was his comfort after coming home from a long day. You could see the stress melt from his face every time he held you close, his tense muscles relaxing as he buried his face in your hair.

"Missed ya today hon," he would often murmur, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. You would simply hum in response, tracing soothing patterns on his back, knowing that your presence was what he needed most.

Tonight was no different. You lay tangled together in bed, the weight of the day melting away. His body radiated warmth, an almost cruel heat in the summer night. You held him close, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours.

The AC whirred quietly in the background, your mind wandered, thinking about how much you loved these moments despite the discomfort. You mostly found yourself unable to sleep, tossing and turning and laying in his arms.

The sticky feeling of sweat forming between your bodies, the way your skin clung to his— it was all worth a few uncomfortable nights. You didn’t mind because you knew how much he needed this, needed you.

It took him a while to realize how much the heat bothered you. Often, you’d wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. Hajime would wake too, asking you what’s wrong. You’d brush it off as the AC turning off overnight or the ceiling fan not working properly, offering excuses that seemed believable in the faint light of dawn.

One weekend morning, after yet another restless, clammy night, you woke up to find Hajime already awake, watching you with a concerned expression. He brushed a strand of hair from your forehead.

“You good baby? You look like you ran a marathon in your sleep,” he jokes.

You laughed softly, trying to hide your discomfort, “Yeah no I’m good, the AC is probably acting up again.”

Hajime’s schedule as an athletic trainer meant that he often had early mornings, but on weekends, he allowed himself to sleep in a bit later. You, on the other hand, woke up earlier to prepare his things for the day, ensuring he had everything he needed for his exhaustive schedule.

You would pack his meals, cook him breakfast, and make sure his bag was ready to go.

Regardless of your efforts to hide your feelings from your husband, he’d start noticing the signs. The dark circles under your eyes, the way you’d wake up glossy, and the occasional comments about the room feeling too warm.

He’d conclude that it must’ve been the seasonal changes, but now he was beginning to see a pattern.

He frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “The electrician came last week babe, he said everything was fine.”

You paused, realizing that your usual excuse wasn’t going to hold up anymore. “Oh, well… maybe I’ve just been running a bit warmer than usual. Could be the weather or something.”

His expression shifted from concern to consideration. “Still.. you’ve been looking pretty wiped out lately, maybe you should see a doctor, just in case.”

You tried to reassure him, not wanting to worry him further. “It’s probably nothing serious. Just a little extra warmth. I’ll be fine dear, really.”

He didn’t look convinced but let it go, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Okay, but if you’re feeling off, let me know. I don’t want you to push yourself.”

You nodded, determined to keep your thoughts to yourself. It was a small price to pay for after all. The next few nights, you tried different tactics to minimize the heat, like sleeping in lighter pajamas and turning up the ceiling fan a bit more.

Despite it all, you still found yourself waking up in a sweat, but you brushed it off with casual comments about the weather or the AC.

Another evening followed, but this time it felt unbearable. You jolted awake, forehead covered with beads of sweat. You tried to slip out of bed without waking your husband, but he stirred and noticed your discomfort.

“Baby? You okay?” Hajime mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. Keeping a light grasp on your wrist as he squints at you through the dim light of the room. You were sitting up on your side of the bed, “Yeah, just feeling a bit too warm. I’ll be fine, ‘m gonna grab water,” you whispered, brushing it off once again.

But Hajime wasn’t convinced. He followed and sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to piece together the situation. His brow furrowed in concern as he noticed how flushed your face looked.

“Hey,” Hajime said gently, his eyes filled with concern. “You don’t look so good. Why don’t you stay here? I’ll get the water for you.”

You shook your head, trying to muster a smile. “No, it’s okay. I can get it myself, I’ll be quick.”

Hajime’s eyes softened as he watched you try to stand. He placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to the bed. “No, really. I want you to rest. Let me get it.”

You reluctantly sat back down, letting out a sigh, the exhaustion apparent in your posture. “Okay, fine, thank you.”

He nodded, then went to the kitchen, moving quietly. As he filled a glass with cool water, his mind continued to turn over the situation. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

When he returned, he found you sitting on the edge of the bed, still looking uneasy. He handed you the glass of water and sat down beside you, his expression serious. “I’ve been thinking,” he said quietly, “about why you’ve been feeling so uncomfortable. It’s not just the room temperature, is it?”

You looked at him, your eyes reflecting a mix of exhaustion and a touch of guilt, “honey..”

His brows knitted together in thought. The gears in his head turned as he replayed the past nights in his head. It hit him with a sudden clarity— he was the source of your discomfort. His body heat, his need to cuddle, had been making your nights unbearable.

“Baby, I… I’m sorry, baby,” he said, his voice filled with genuine remorse. He gently cupped your face with his hands, looking deeply into your eyes. “I had no idea I was making you uncomfortable. I should have noticed sooner. I know I can be pretty warm, but I never meant to make you feel miserable.”

A small, understanding smile formed on your lips, you let out a soft sigh and shook your head as you put the glass down on the nightstand. “Hajime, it’s okay. I should have told you earlier, too. I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

Hajime’s face remained with concern as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. “No baby, I still feel awful about it. I just wish I’d noticed sooner, I’m sorry beautiful.”

He buries his face in your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the slight shake in his sigh, the weight of his guilt evident in his touch. His arms tightened around you, seeking comfort and offering it at the same time.

You ran your fingers gently through his hair, smoothing the back of his head as you whispered comforts softly, “Haji, it’s okay. I promise….”

His grip on you relaxed a bit, but he stayed close, savoring the soothing motion of your hand. You pressed a tender kiss to the top of his head, your lips lingering for a moment before pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. “You work hard and I know you care about me more than anything. That’s enough for me.”

You both settled back into the sheets, the silence of the room comforting. As his breathing evened out, he stirred slightly, pulling you a bit closer.

“We should get a better mattress tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep but carrying a note of determination. “One that helps with temperature regulation.”

You let out a soft, appreciative laugh, feeling the warmth of his words as much as his body. “That sounds like a good idea,” you agreed, your voice gentle.

He nodded against your shoulder, his head resting comfortably. “I’ll look into it first thing in the morning.”

You felt nothing but gratitude and affection for him. “Thank you, Haji. I really appreciate it.”

He tightened his embrace slightly, his breathing settling into a steady rhythm. “I love you,” he said, his voice a soothing whisper in the quiet room.

“I love you too,” you replied softly, your hand continuing its gentle strokes along his back.

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magnumversumplus · 2 years ago

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Crescendo Part II: Doom Of Dr. F.

Written By Joseph M.

Tiana Lerouz and Noira Fariz walked down the hallway, Petra Red and Jairan in tow. Thunder roared, rain pattered against the windows and the entire mansion of Alizandra Laban was all but noisy. There was the quiet rattling of the leaves and twigs as a bit of wind blew through the shutters, but there was not a single peep apart from the swaying of potted plants.

Noira Fariz swept around the corner, drawing a longsword from her sheath. Tiana, Jairan and Petra followed her, all of them remaining in the shadows whilst she bathed in the blistering glow of the lightning, which illuminated the entire bedroom. Her hair was glistening. Short and matte black–it fluttered slightly.

The room around them was decorated with all sorts of fabrics. Orange, teal and purple drapes lathered the ceiling, hung down over windows and smothered the giant mattress and the wooden frames around it. There was a bathtub on the balcony–bubbling and boiling, it looked over the entire city.

Above the mattress there was a painting, a portrait depicting Alizandra Laban’s side profile with a background of swirly warm blasts of oranges and yellows. Her gray eyes slightly looked towards the viewer–the frown she had in the portrait and her stare almost gave Noira a feeling of unease and a bad stomach ache. This portrait was not safely nailed, and only held to the wall by one nail, slowly coming loose.

The background of the painting reminded Jairan of something, a memory he’d rather forget. He remembered bright flashes of lights, waking up in an operating room and seeing Dr. F.’s face staring over him menacingly. He saw all of the red flags, all of the signs that Dr. F. wasn’t exactly as who he appeared to be, yet he didn’t do anything,

There was a loud crash in the hallway bordering the bedroom, followed by a series of thuds and a boom. A loud air horn ruptured all of their ears, sending Joran back into reality and all of them against the back wall. Alizandra Laban entered, initially shrouded in a veil of smoke and gas, her hair long and black and blowing in the harsh winds, her suit remaining completely straight and ironed out as she drew a kitchen knife and cried, “Who are you all?

“Step forth and fight, intruders!”

Petra Red rocketed forward from the back of the room–blistering flames emitted from his boots as he was whistling towards her at full force. Alizandra cut off one of his rocket propellers, then the other and then grabbed him by the neck. Petra struggled for a little, trying to stall her while Tiana, and Jairan tried to swarm at her from her left and right–Noira took her own head on with her saber.

Alizandra seemingly was buried by all of the people swarming her, but she emerged–this was much of a surprise to them. She used her kitchen knife to slash apart one of Petra’s scarlet gloves. Then, with great force, she sliced Noira’s sword into two. The blade end flew through the air, landing point-first into Alizandra’s mattress.

Tiana threw herself forward and punched Alizandra in the nose, sending her stumbling into the hallway where Noira and the rest waited. The knife fell out of her hands as she staggered into a wall and was quickly retrieved by Noira.

While Alizandra initially had the upper hand, four people and a sword had too much strength against one person with a kitchen knife.

Now that Alizandra had been kicked to the floor, Petra sharply accused her: “You are working with Dr. F. He paid you to keep quiet about the transactions he makes!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Alizandra shot back. “I check Technopolitan Limited’s bank account transactions every day when I wake up in the morning and I see no such name!”

“Don’t play pretend,” said Noira, pointing her longsword at Alizandra, its blade flashing as lightning shot down from the sky and cast light onto it. “You know something, so talk.”

“Alright, alright! I’ll talk!” Alizandra got to her feet and pushed them away, then began explaining herself: “Dr. F. walked into my office one day with several of his cronies and told me that he needed to use our bank account to make payments!”

“Who was he making payments to?”

“S–some man named Criman L. I swear, I don’t know who exactly that is! All Dr F. told me is that he’s paying this man to build him a medical facility to hold all of his things!”

“Where is that?” Noira got closer, so close she could hear Alizandra’s panicked fidgeting and see the tears rolling down her eyes. Again, she demanded, “Where?”

“The address was 33907 Kanemarr Street, Barrundy Way! He said s–something about purchasing an old power plant!”

“That’s where I met Tiana and Petra,” Jairan noted, helping Alizandra to her feet before pulling out a pair of handcuffs and cuffing her arms. “We know where that is, Noira.”

Dr F. walked across the facility, his plucky little voodoo-mecha-dolls perched on his shoulder–their arms hung loosely, only attached by wires. He had a gas lantern in one hand, a knife in the other hand and a wide, malevolent smile on his face as he dragged his shoes across the floor.

Five figures waited for him at the end of the dark room: Noira Fariz, Jan-Pitr Rasvisr, Tiana Lerouz, Petra Von Red and Alizandra Laban from left to right. Tiana had her silver blade, Petra had a crimson dagger, Jairan had his gadgets but the rest only had their fists.

“What brings you all here?” grumbled Dr. F. “I assume Alizandra told you about this secret lair.”

“What are you using this facility for?” cried Jairan. “What do you need all of this for?”

Dr. F. set down the gas lantern and knife. He tangled his fingers together, joining them into intricate weavings, folding his thumbs over each other, revealing the burn marks on his arms. “I’m creating an army of voodoo robots, servants to aid me as I take my company back. You took everything from me, Tiana. Now I’m taking it back.”

Petra looked at Tiana with a confused stare, a tilted eyebrow hidden behind his red visor. He whispered, “Tiana, what’s he saying?”

“Dr. F. used to own the company,” Tiana responded with a growl. “One day, he was charged with personal fraud. As it turns out, he was borrowing money to pay for his other evil schemes. When the company found out, the board of directors removed him as CEO and I was elected to take his place.

“He’s a liar, Jairan.”

“There’s so many things you don’t know about each other–I admire that you all banded together to stop me.” Dr. F pursed his “lips”–if one could even call the two crusty, dry halves of his mouth that. “Five people may be able to take on one man alone, but with my army of–”

BANG.

Alizandra fell into a cabinet full of medical supplies; syringes, IV bags, heart monitors, AEDs, and other miscellaneous medical things once held behind glass windows fell onto his face, as well as the cabinet itself. He felt his consciousness momentarily fading, then awoke to the sounds of a steadily beeping heart monitor and the dozens of heart monitors whose beeping rhythm followed his.

A nurse next to her called for the doctor and shouted, “She’s awake! She’s stable!”

Noira, who was standing next to her as her consciousness returned, said, “I pulled you and the others from the lab’s basement one by one as it blew up.”

“What about Dr. F.?”

24 hours earlier…

Tiana stood before Dr. F., a doctor–no–a monster so deranged and distanced from Hippocrates’ oath that the last inch of humanity he had in him probably laid there in the mixture of plasma, IV fluid and Benadryl that gathered up in a puddle below him, enough liquid to fill six bottles of Coca Cola. The scar on his face, once stitched up and healing, began to open up.

Tiana drew something from her pocket–it was a small, serrated, silver dagger. She screamed, charging at Dr. F. and the voodoo doll cronies behind him. Dr. F. quickly reached into his purple jacket–his despicable outfit was also worthy of hate: purple leather jacket and khakis, black shoes and cane and an arrogant, wicked smile.

Tiana didn’t know why he wanted to blow up his own laboratory, a little hidey hole underneath the power plant. She didn’t even know if he orchestrated the explosion, only that he wanted chaos. Flames blasted heat and wind through the crumbling building, her dagger and his cane meeting while rubble and ash fell in the background.

Tiana looked to Noira, staggering while trying to pull Petra’s lifeless body out of the fire. She slashed at Dr. F.’s sleeve, revealing his oil-drenched skin, and she said, “Your reign of terror in my company is over.”

Dr. F.’s face went pale–his hands and knees started to tremble as if they had seen ghosts. He started wailing, his eyes bursting uncontrollably with tears as he collapsed to the floor. He grabbed Tiana by the throat, begging her to do something as the room’s lights turned a luminescent neon lime and green smoke filled his and Tiana’s sight.

Ghostly moans filled the air as hands reached up from the ground. Dr. F. looked around urgently for Tiana, but she had already escaped. People on the outside saw the green smoke rising but assumed it was just the laboratory’s vicious experiments. Little did they know, inside the lab the spirits he kept were taking him to the same place he kept them.

Their dead hands crawled up his skin, pulling him deeper and deeper into the mess.

There were three men still inside, watching in terror–Lavashian, Stevens and their boss–but these men also did not wish to help. The last thing the doctor saw before he drowned in cement was the manic faces of the robot voodoo dolls he made looking over him.

48 hours later…

Noira told the story to her friend, Prince Avis of the kingdom of Serranda, of how she met Alizandra, Petra, and Jairan. It was a complicated one to explain, but she tried her best to relay the tale to the best of her abilities. “I was ruling over my kingdom when I received a letter from my friend Tiana, who I already was close acquaintances with for quite a long time.

“She told me she needed to meet with me, and we met in a back alley, behind a dumpster somewhere in New York. While we talked, the rest of her friends approached me.”

“Strange experience,” Prince Avis commented, picking up his steaming cup of tea, holding it to his face and taking a long sip. “Why would she want you to meet there?”

“She told me that one of her friends had gotten into trouble with the authorities.” Noira picked up a glass of water from its coaster and mixed in some vitamin juice, stirring the two liquids together with a spoon. “I think it was Jairan. He got fired from his job for aiding in vigilante work”–Noira put “vigilante work” in air quotes–“and not following the orders of a commanding officer. They gave him his job back after Dr. F. was stopped.”

“What are your plans now?”

Noira put on her coat and buttoned it up. She walked towards the balcony, already hearing the proud shouts and bellows of her kingdom. Cheers and roars filled her ears, her eyes filled with the thousands of hands waving and applauding her arrival. “I have a kingdom to rule. My people need me.”

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soir-rouges-esprit · 2 years ago

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xv1: Eyes of Glass, Tick Tick Tick… is the sound of a non existent clock that plays its monotonous sound in my mind, as if to break the silence in the dark room with the mirrors like eyes. I still lay there… fixated on the color of the ceiling… a kind of… never ending darkness, one that's absence of color leaves the mind to imagine the ones that aren't actually present… like feelings for another never spoken in truth or out loud, these colors are only imaginary scenarios that are another attempt at a drowning mind… trying to cope with a flood of depression and loneliness, or the lack thereof from love. I turn on my left side, arm stretched out completely. I feel it… the Red dawning disappointed brow, the eyes that split atoms with their focus and could look straight through a person of importance no longer relevant. A Red long lost or more so buried… The Irreverent Red… this shade was less caring, more so in general, not just for things/beings of importance laced with serious tones. This was… a problem… no… this was unfortunately necessary… I heard a voice deep from within the darkness, he said in a somewhat calm and soothing voice "You're so close… just a little further drifter… It'll all heal soon"... I stand up in slow… and yell out of anger and disappointment… COME THEN AND FUCKING SHOW ME!!!!... the only response was my own echo… then through the abyss, another voice wrang out… Sword-Maiden… "I Miss You"... I stopped momentarily… this was painful to hear in truth… then… I heard the criminal speak finally… the slaver himself… the dreaded other half of the deformed amalgam that is Body… and Mind… Mind spoke with a calm voice and low roar "No she doesn't"... "No one does... even the ones on the search for you here and now… they all lie… and even if they don't… they cannot give you the love you seek… that's why you're here… give up on this charade… pick… up… The Torch." I stood there… although my legs were numb, and all feeling was lost… I stood… I spoke out into the void… back to the Sword-Maiden… I asked… Does it suck that this is happening? My absence? My silence?... she replied with "It sucks, but that's being a person, and if people don't respect that then FUCK EM" I understood the message and her healing she was trying to provide. But in truth my takeaway was… It sucked what was happening … I do not respect anyone non willing to give me my freedom already… they don't exist anymore… the people who were invading my privacy were in truth scared for my well-being, which is why they did the things they were doing… Knight, The Imp and even The Jester. She didn't know any of that… So I accept her words as truth against Minds clawing disapproval… I pull my hands in front of my face as to look at them… as to look at me, with the hopes to stop this painful dissociation… but then I noticed, in the background through the windows… were my hands up in the same position as mine but on the outside… I lower my hands… and so did the outside me… In that moment I was filled with so much rage… so much pain… I couldn't hold it in any longer… I yell out as I start to run towards the windows, This will stop now… I won't die here, Not Yet… Not from YOU… NOT LIKE THIS!!!... So go... FUCK YOURSELF!!!... I jump into the right window… blasting through it… the crimson light became blinding as I passed through the window… an ear piercing noise wrang throughout… then silence… then… then I was back… back at the beginning edge… of The Desert.

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polarisbibliotheque · 3 years ago

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Vergil with his s/o using Yamato in a fight

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: Vergil had been training you on the art of yielding the power of Yamato. When one of his jobs alongside Dante and Nero went wrong, it was up to you to save the Sparda's - even if you weren't totally ready for it.

Author's notes: I just marathoned The Matrix and watched the 4th movie and, well... How can I put it into words... All the feelings I have were summed up by Trinity in the 4th movie and I am SCREAMING at how amazing she is and how much the power of love™️ is the thing that saves these two in ALL the movies (and everyone seemed to have missed the point that yeah, the movies are about a bunch of phylosophical things, but also love. My kind of story). So, here we are with Vergil, his ass-kicking s/o and the power of love™️ :D

*TRIGGER WARNING*: Vergil has a panic attack during one paragraph. It describes the feeling and I'm gonna keep it in purple in case you want to jump that part!

Vergil couldn’t precisely say when things got out of control.

He was effortlessly slaughtering another powerful demon when, suddenly, Nero appeared. He got used to fighting alongside Dante – it was something Vergil didn’t think he could enjoy but, secretly, he found it was better than doing things alone. But Nero…?

He wanted him out of the way.

The boy thought it was because his father didn’t like him – but Vergil knew that wasn’t true. With Nero around, he had a disadvantage. He got worried. It threw him off his focus – and that, for Vergil, could be lethal.

Of course, he was too proud to explain that to his own son. It was better if Nero believed he didn’t like him – that way, the kid would have a good reason to stay away. It weighted in Vergil’s heart, but he was already used to dealing with that kind of weight.

“Nero! Get out of here!” He didn’t want to be the kind of father who would always scold his son, but there he was.

“Why, huh? You’re that annoyed to have me around, ol’ man?” Nero had one of his sarcastic smiles plastered on his lips, already fed up with all that avoidance from his own father whenever they were hunting. “Guess what? No way to get rid of me now!”

“Of course. As foolish as your uncle.” Vergil muttered while using one of Yamato’s attacks to sever through multiple enemies, sparing both him and Nero.

That only made Nero angrier.

“Ei! This is between you two!” Dante hit another demon as if he was using a baseball bat, sending the creature flying in the skies never to be seen again. “Don’t drag me into this; you’re the one who needs to learn to deal with people!”

“Both of you need it!” Nero exploded in rage, using his anger to sucker punch a demon right in the face before it could even think about attacking them. “You two have issues, ya know?!”

“Ei, kiddo, I’ve been around longer than ‘Mr. Power’ here.” Dante didn’t even look at the demons, resting his sword on his shoulder and just shooting at the ones who dared to approach too much.

“It didn’t do you too good.” Vergil rolled his eyes, keeping demons at bay with long distance cuts from Yamato.

Nero laughed, agreeing with his dad. Something inside him wanted to kick himself for being nice to Vergil – but, as soon as he saw a slight smile on his father’s lips, Nero thought maybe his reaction wasn’t that bad.

“See?! It’s so much easier if we get along, you ass!” Yes, he wanted to sucker punch Vergil. And Dante. And whatever approached him at the moment.

Nico mentioned he might have anger management issues – and honestly, Nero just disagreed because it was Nico. But she probably was right.

“You need to learn to listen…”

Vergil stopped everything he was doing to stare at Nero – and he would drag the kid out of there if he needed to, but it was too late. The demon who sent all his minions to do its bidding appeared – crowned in the helmet of an Angelo Commander. One of the creatures who used to hold the ones like Vergil on a leash back when he fell on Hell.

“A son…?” The demon’s voice reverberated through the ground, making Vergil’s blood boil. It was the first time Nero saw such rage in his father’s cold eyes. “He will make a good addition to my army.”

“You will only try.” It was the last thing Vergil muttered before disappearing in a blur right in front of Nero and Dante. They exchanged looks while searching for the blue demon – but Vergil was already unleashing all his rage on the Angelo.

Dante immediately triggered to fly into battle. He could see how emotional Vergil was – and that was never good. Vergil losing his temper could only mean two things: either he would bring the whole city down in his rage or he wouldn’t be focused enough, falling right after that big burst of energy.

Dante considered both a disaster – he had to do his best to bring Vergil back to his cold and calculating state.

Nero jumped into battle right after his uncle – he didn’t need to be protected; he could do it himself. They were very aware Nero was stronger than both of those fools together and now they treated him like a child? He didn’t want to admit it was an instinct from both of them to protect family – after all, what did Nero and Vergil know about paternal instincts? – so he settled with them being dumb and belittling Nero’s power.

It was the most logical explanation after all.

That was why you couldn’t believe your eyes as you approached the fight. You were helping Trish and Lady with other demons, but, after finishing your job, you decided to check on them with the big guys. And that’s when you found Dante being held down by a bunch of demons, Vergil struggling against a good batch and the Angelo Commander trying to assimilate Nero as the boy fought viciously to survive.

It was when Nero heard his father being hit by a demon that his focus shifted. With that, the Angelo Commander managed to grab his opponent – Nero struggling as much as he could. Vergil screamed something no one could understand, because at that very moment, a swarm of demons launched themselves at him, knocking Yamato out of his hands.

That never happened before.

Nero watched in disbelief as his father was brought to his knees right in front of him – Vergil lost his beloved Yamato for trying to protect him. It downed on Nero that, after all, it was an instinct.

His dad was trying to save him.

“I waited long enough to have you in my ranks once more, son of Sparda.” The Angelo approached with big steps as Vergil kept being held on his knees, trying to make himself free. Dante screamed something, but with all the demons holding him face down on the ground, it was impossible to understand – he was trying, though, to reach his sword and save his brother and nephew.

Nero couldn’t understand what was going on. What did he mean by “once more”? No one ever told him what happened to Vergil. Did that mean his father was made into one of those mindless demons and managed to break himself free? Nero wasn’t aware of that but… Well. It was something to be respected. He couldn’t let Vergil fall again.

Specially not because of him.

“Hey, you ass, you already got me! Forgot it already?!” He tried to get the Angelo Commander’s attention, but it was to no use. The demon already summoned an Angelo helmet, ready to assimilate Vergil into his army.

Those silvery eyes were never as scared and angry as they were at that moment. Vergil had all his memories of his first “coronation” coming back like a punch on his stomach – he thought he would be sick. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to break away, but his body was trembling, and he wasn’t able to fight. Vergil couldn’t feel his fingertips, nor his legs, and it looked like the world was slowly crumbling apart around him. His heart raced and it seemed like he would die – as if there wasn’t enough air in the world to help him fill his lungs. His eyes overflowed with anger and fear – and Nero was speechless.

He had never seen Vergil having a panic attack before. He thought Vergil wasn’t able to feel all that.

“Welcome back… Nelo Angelo.”

Dante and Nero struggled once more, screaming while trying to break themselves free. They had to save Vergil. They had to do something.

And, as the helmet was inches away from Vergil’s head, the Yamato stopped it from touching him.

“Round four, bitch.” You had a cocky smile on your lips, holding the blue and white hilt of the katana with pride, piercing through that hellish helmet, and breaking it in half.

“Y/n?!” Nero couldn’t believe his eyes. With a swift movement, you made the Angelo stumble back, the helmet breaking into a thousand little pieces. Vergil looked up at you with relief mixing with the despair in his rapid beating heart – if he didn’t know better, he would say you were an angel.

“You are not… The blood of Sparda.” The Angelo was honestly confused as you yielded Yamato to swiftly kill a bunch of demons in a matter of seconds, making his way towards him.

Focused. Powerful. Staring at your prey. Just like the Dark Slayer.

“No. But I do have the heart of one of them.” You raised your head with pride, getting into position with Yamato right by the side of your face. “And that is enough to yield his power.”

Running towards your enemy, the Angelo Commander did the same, finally letting Nero go. It wouldn’t be easy, of course: he was immediately surrounded by a swarm of bloodthirsty demons – Nero did his best to kill them as fast as he could to help you.

He thought you wouldn’t be able to tackle a demon that powerful – you were human, after all. You could get seriously hurt. And, even if Nero didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t allow you to get hurt because of their foolishness.

You had been training, though. Night after night, you and Vergil got together so he could teach you how to use the Yamato. You weren’t ready to yield its whole power, but you knew a thing or two. And, if it meant saving Vergil from that doomed Angelo fate, you would do everything in your power.

The demon didn’t even know what happened. You hit it with a powerful combo, making it take a few steps back. You took your time to think and stare at the demon, figuring out your next move. It tried to hit you with its sword, but you managed to dodge every blow, not taking a single hit – if you did, you’d probably be dead, though. Sheathing the Yamato, you took it as an opportunity to block a few blows, using your own energy to help you.

Yielding the Yamato demanded a lot. You studied enough occultism to be powerful on arcane arts, but you had never seen anything like that before. You were always astounded by Vergil’s seemingly effortless use of his power – both his arcane and martial abilities at the same time – making it seem like it was the easiest thing in the world. You would be drained after that fight, but you wouldn’t allow any of them to fall.

“How…? How can a human…?” The Angelo was as astounded as Dante, Nero and Vergil watching you, the three of them trying to set themselves free from the ever-growing population of demons used to hold them down.

“Love. That’s how.” Those were the only words you would say, unsheathing the Yamato so quickly all the Angelo could see were the rapid slashes of a void cut engulfing it. Stepping as quickly as Vergil had taught you, the next combo used both the blade and the sheath to stun the demon – who fell to its knees.

“You… Cannot win.” The Angelo panted as you approached slowly, the same look of the Dark Slayer in your eyes. The demon could see it – and fear it. “You will all die.”

Taking a look around, you understood what it meant. His minions wouldn’t stop breaking down the Spardas and you, a mere human, could kill an Angelo Commander – but could you kill all those demons as well, before one of the Sparda’s fell?

Vergil could. But, in all your training sessions, you never managed to pull that off. He tried to train you, to teach you to hone your power, to focus and bring nothing but death to those pitiful demons around, but it was to no avail. You always ended up exhausted, never able to finish the attack.

You raised your head, taking a deep breath. Sheathing the Yamato, you tried to remember everything Vergil had ever taught you. It was time to calm down, to focus. Closing your eyes, you lowered in your legs, getting into the posture Vergil had corrected a thousand times.

Dante immediately realized what you wanted to do – and it could be your victory or your demise. You were human. Even if you had honed your skills up to that point, a judgement cut of that scale would probably kill you. Dante tried to reach to his sword in a desperate attempt to help you – his fingers brushing on the hilt, but never enough to grab it and break free from that mess.

Nero screamed your name, but you only ignored it. He tried to shoot his way to get to you, losing his Red Queen and Blue Rose in the process. Nero kept calling you, now trying to punch his way through those damn demons – but they were too much. He would never get to you in time.

Opening your eyes once more, the Angelo Commander could see in you the same determination he saw in Vergil himself before he fell on Hell. Holding tightly onto Yamato’s hilt, everyone felt as if a storm was approaching. Time seemed to bend, everything around being engulfed in a dark blue aura.

That was it. You always failed at that point. Risking a look to your lover by the Angelo’s side, you met Vergil’s silvery eyes – now filled with something so different than the motivation you were all so used to.

Vergil looked at you with a mix of hope, love and respect.

And that was all you needed – for the Dark Slayer only respected the power of a few beings in this world. And you were one of them.

“Yamato… Slay all.” You whispered to yourself, letting all that power be released.

You moved faster than the eyes could see. None of the Sparda’s, none of the demons and not even the Angelo Commander could watch your form as you killed every single damned soul that tried to take away your family. It was only when you appeared once more, your back facing the Angelo Commander as you kneeled on the floor and slowly sheathed the Yamato, that they understood what happened.

“How…?!” The Angelo Commander tried to ask again, but the blade was finally covered on its hilt. And, when it did, every demon gushed blood and fell on the floor – lifeless in their doomed existences.

You managed to get up and take a look around only to see Nero running towards you as Dante got himself away from the pile of demons it took to hold him down. As you tried to turn around to find your lover, you felt your world spinning violently while your legs simply couldn’t take your weight anymore, giving out as soon as you tried to move again.

Before you could hit the floor, though, Vergil managed to catch you. Your hands never left Yamato, holding tightly to their family heirloom.

On Vergil’s eyes, you could see nothing but pride.

“Y/n! Are you crazy, huh?! You could’ve died!” Nero quickly approached, almost breathless, as if he was competing with Dante who would arrive faster.

“Y/n might be dyin’ at this point. Verge?” Dante nudged his brother, who ran his fingers on your face, proudly watching you.

“Drained, not dying.” Vergil noted, raising your limp body from the ground on his arms. “It is normal after a perfect judgment cut.”

Dante and Nero just exchanged looks. Did it mean Vergil, when he first learnt it, spent his time trying to recover himself all alone, tossed on the ground until his body had enough strength to bring him to his feet again…?

They rather not think too much about that.

“We should see Kyrie. She’ll know what to do.” Nero concluded, a little less exasperated.

“Yeah. You call Nico to grab us here, kid?” And Dante decided to take the lead for a while. It seemed like Vergil’s attention would be all yours for a while.

“Well, we need to find a phone in this hellhole.” Nero sighed as they started walking towards what was left of civilization in that town, being slowly followed by Vergil’s silent steps.

As you were left alone, Vergil looked into your eyes – a faint, proud smile hidden in his lips.

“Love…?” It was the only thing he would ask, for he knew you would understand.

The Dark Slayer never thought love would be the source of your power – he could have never imagined it was what you needed to tap into to pull that off. But it was exactly what he saw in your eyes before you commanded Yamato to slay all.

“Love.” You agreed with a calm smile coloring your lips, as you closed your eyes to allow yourself to rest. “Sometimes… It’s more powerful than rage.”

No one was paying enough attention to see Vergil smiling at those words. You were right, indeed – love was more powerful than rage.

And now, he knew.

#*Bury the Light blasting in the background*#I listened to it on a loop to write this one #and I regret NOTHING #also almost wrote a beautiful 'f**k you that's how' up there #but that's more like Dante's s/o #vergil x reader #vergil x you #vergil imagine #devil may cry imagines #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc imagines #dmc fanfic #devil may cry #vergil sparda #dmc vergil #dmc dante #dmc nero

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