#I��m stuck on either side of the pole | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

janewaykove · 5 months ago

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Title: Wet & Cold

Characters: Red/fem!reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Sex stuff

You were enjoying the chance to work in the greenhouse and away from the usual indoor chores everyone else was stuck with. Plants can be dirty but not the kind of dirty a shower stall or a toilet can be. And the best part? You get to work with Red. Well, you get to work for Red.

A storm was brewing outside and Red wanted all the plants in the greenhouse to be properly placed so they'd sustain minimal damage. It was just the two of you working there today. The others were busy helping to prepare everything indoors. Red had asked for permission to bring you along to help her.

Most of the work involved securing the bags of manure so they stayed dry, and putting the plants low enough that they wouldn't fall off the tables. But not low enough they could get washed away if it flooded. The rain was coming down hard and the greenhouse wasn't exactly the most secure building. There were leaks everywhere. You weren't sure if you'd gotten more wet on the way to the greenhouse, or from being in it. Not only that, but it was freezing. Even hoodies, jackets and gloves didn't do much at this point.

You looked over at Red and saw she had her hood up. Her hair was frantically sticking out from under the hood from each available spot. She looked adorable. But she was wet and you could tell she was uncomfortably cold.

You finished moving some pots and made your way over to her. She turned to find you standing there smiling at her.

"What could you possibly be smiling about," she asked, her accent as thick and sexy as ever.

"You, of course," you said with a grin.

"Well you'd better stop or your face will freeze like that," she replied, patting you on the cheek.

She put the last pot securely to the side and leaned back onto the wooden table, letting out a sigh. She rubbed her gloved hands together trying to warm them up. You stepped closer and took them in your own gloved hands. "Here, let me help."

"It's no use," she said. "It's like rubbing icicles together. I'm too wet and cold to get warm, but I don't want to go back in there." She tilted her head towards the main prison building. "I'd sooner freeze out here with you." She smiled sweetly and it melted your heart.

"I have a way to warm you up," you said, an even bigger grin spreading across your face than was already there.

"You're crazy if you think I'm having sex out here," she huffed. "Either my tits would break off or my ass would freeze to the table!"

You laughed and removed your right glove. "You don't have to take anything off," wiggling your fingers at her. You started to slide your hand below to seek out her waistband under her coat but she grabbed your hand.

"You're not putting your icy fingers down there!" She pushed your hand away.

"My hands aren't cold," you assured her.

"Bullshit," she argued.

You reached up and played with the hair sticking out from under her hood, making sure she felt your warm fingers on the side of her cold face. Her eyes closed at your touch, relishing in the small amount of warmth you gave to her. "How are you so warm when I'm colder than a snowman at the North Pole?"

"Because being near you makes me warm," you answered, holding your hand against her face to warm her. "I mean, look how cute you are in this hoodie with your hair peaking out on all sides. How can that not give me a warm feeling? Now, about that idea I had to warm you up. May I continue?"

She grabbed the front of your jacket with both hands and pulled you closer in one hard yank. "Make me warm," she ordered.

She leaned back a bit more against the table, allowing you better access to slip your hand under the bottom of her coat and into her waistband. You went slow, just in case your touch wasn't as warm as it could be. She didn't object as you continued to slip your hand into her panties. She spread her feet wider to give you more room and you stepped into position betwen her legs. Your body was up close to hers now and your fingers made their way inside her.

She wasn't quite as cold there. In fact, she was just the right temperature. And she was already damp, only this type of dampness was good, unlike the dampness from the leaky greenhouse overhead. You leaned your free hand on the table beside her so you could lean into her better.

As you slid your fingers in and out of her, you took pleasure in her soft moans. She was holding the edge of the table to steady herself and her hips moved with your fingers. Her gaze was downward but quickly rose to meet yours when your thumb began circling her clit in changing patterns. "You're doing that on purpose, aren't you?" She raised an eyebrow and smirked ever so slightly. "You're trying to drive me crazy."

"Is it working?" you teased, continuing the patterns.

She didn't answer right away. That last move you did took her breath for a moment. "Yesss," she hissed, happily.

You planted a small kiss on her cheek, not wanting to ruin the trance she was in. Then you put your lips on her ear and whispered, "You feel so good." She grabbed your face and pulled your mouth to hers, kissing you with a hungry passion. Her tongue was cold in your warm mouth, but it felt good. You blanketed her tongue with your own, attempting to warm it. Before long, it had worked.

You were moving your fingers at a faster pace now and you could tell it was having a nice effect on her. When you pulled away from the kiss to focus on her pussy, she playfully bit your lower lip. She had a mischievous gleam in her eye when you looked at her. You responded by changing up your hand movement and making her grunt at the new direction.

"You know just what I like, don't you?" her eyes fluttering as she put her hands back on the table to brace herself. "I'm almost there."

As you started your final moves to finish her up, you couldn't help but appreciate her blissful face and the way she gave herself to you. Her moans were louder now and she looked into your eyes, her eyebrows arched in an almost sad, surrendering expression, letting you know it was time.

"Come for me," you whispered to her.

Her eyes closed and she grabbed the table edge tighter as her pussy tightened around your fingers. She let out a long throaty sound that almost made you come with her. When you were finished, you held onto her, making sure she didn't lose her balance. When she regained her strength, she kissed you sweetly as a thank you.

"You were partly right," she said with mock seriousness. "I'm much warmer now, but also much more wet than I was before."

You both laughed and embraced for a long, seductive kiss that made the chilly dampness of the greenhouse, and everything else, non-important.

The end.

#kate mulgrew #galina reznikov #orange is the new black #oitnb #red x reader #fanfic #red fanfic #kate mulgrew fanfic

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m3ab · 2 years ago

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herbst appliance 101

ive had a Herbst appliance for about three months(I think) and I'm going to give any people who are getting one or thinking of getting one some advice/info I wish I was told. I have a telescoping Herbst, so I will be saying "the smallest pole". I'm referencing the part circled in red. (The picture is not of a telescoping Herbst appliance, but it has the same small pole)

Basically, a Herbst appliance is a device that moves your lower jaw forward to cure an overbite. It consists of two arms, one on each side of mouth.(Google more info about what it is, I'm just here to explain my experience and different side effects I've had)

First and foremost, for the first week chewing will be just about impossible. I'm not kidding. Since your jaw is being moved drastically in that first week you get it on, chewing is extremely difficult. I survived off of a diet of soup, protein shakes, and yogurt. Soft food diets will not work, as you still need to have some chewing ability. I googled "what to eat when you can't chew" and it brought me to blogs from people who've had jaw surgery, and they listed foods that they could eat. You can basically only eat liquid foods, or foods that you can mashup against the roof of your mouth with your tongue. My orthodontist conveniently forgot to mention this, and I panicked when I realized i couldn't chew.

The Herbst also makes rattling sounds. All the time. If you move anything in your mouth at all, it will rattle. You get used to it pretty quickly (as you're focused on not being able to eat) so it isn't that much of an issue.

Just like braces, you need to go in to get it "adjusted". They add these little disks(I believe they're called crimps, but that might just be my orthodontist's nickname for them) to the smallest pole of the Herbst appliance, stopping it from closing all the way. What this does is it pushes the jaw even more forward. When you get that added on, it will be harder to chew once again. It's not nearly as bad as when you first get it on, but expect some difficulties. I eat soft foods for the first day after getting another crimp, just to make it easier for myself.

Food gets stuck EVERYWHERE. With braces, food can get stuck behind the wire, against your teeth. With a Herbst appliance, food will get stuck along your gums in the very back of your mouth, especially right after you get a crimp. This is a place where flossing will get you nowhere. I highly recommend getting a waterpik. You don't have to get a super expensive one. It's well worth the money, both for getting the food out where flossing is futile, and for all the time saved by not having to floss in areas where that is actually effective.

Expect sores along the sides of your mouth. These sores SUCK. They form because the collapsing part of the Herbst is catching on the sides of your mouth(this also is more frequent right after getting a crimp). They hurt a lot, mostly because the Herbst continues to catch on them. Sometimes I have to numb up my mouth because of how bad they hurt. They will go away with time, just try not to irritate them too much.

If part of the Herbst gets bent or wears out, it will lock up, either making it impossible to close you mouth or open it(or both). When I had this happen, I couldn't open my mouth past a certain point(in my case, I could open my mouth wide enough to eat, but not enough to take a bite out of a burger) and if I forced it past that point, it would get stuck in the way down. I could force it closed, but it wasn't ideal. If your experiencing problems like this, it is an issue and it will not simply go away(contrary to what I believed). Go to your orthodontist. What they will do is take off the arm that's causing the problem and replace it. It's quick and easy, and shouldn't hurt at all. Pro tip: if you've had a crimp put on, make sure they put one of the same size on the new arm. Same goes for if you've had multiple. You don't want a lopsided jaw, trust me.

I used to subconsciously stick my tongue inside my molars to get any food that might be stuck there out. Because the herbst stops your jaw from moving backwards, it's really hard to do this. This is the only thing I've noticed so far about the whole not-being-able-to-move-your-jaw-backwards thing that actually effects you.

edit: i forgot a couple things. When you first get a Herbst on(or get a crimp) your jaw will feel kinda loose and all weird, like it's hanging by a thread (it isn't, you'll be fine) because of this, you might accidentally slam your teeth together, resulting in pain. I recommend hot water/tea and distracting yourself by listening to music. It helps more than you'd think.

speaking of hot water, sometimes your Herbst will get stiff. Especially after you eat/drink a milk based product. This isn't a huge issue, and it doesn't cause pain or mess with your day-to-day life. It also goes away on its own after a bit. But anyways, hot water helps loosen the Herbst(as well as tea).

The Herbst appliance does kinda look like a medieval torture device, but it honestly isn't all that bad. I've heard not great things about the alternatives(headgear or rubber bands) and after a while, you get used to it. Sometimes I forget it's there. This list isn't to discourage you from getting Herbst, but to inform you of things I wish I knew. I haven't had it all that long, so I might add things to this list as I learn, for all of you who might want to know.

(p.s: when you look up not being able to chew regarding the Herbst appliance, it tells you that you might have trouble swallowing. While this is somewhat true, it's downplayed severely and it's more about the chewing)

#herbst appliance #orthodontist treatment #my experience with Herbst #I hope this helps:)

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brainbuffering · 2 years ago

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12 Days of Manga 2022

Day 7: Favourite Trope

I have so many favourite tropes (especially when it comes to Shojo) that range from “The Grumpy One is Soft for the Sunshine One” to “Pretty Sure This Makes Me a Furry”. But instead here I’m going to give a tribute to all the Women With Weapons! May we one day get to see you all animated properly. (Seriously, Prince Freya might not be my favourite, but it would make for a great action anime when’s that gonna happen?)

So in alphabetical order, and only from those volumes/chapters I have read this year:

Edda from Prince Freya with a wood axe (M: Keiko Ishihara T: John Werry L: Sabrina Heep E: Pancha Diaz)

[ID: A woman in a long cloak holds a wood axe in two hands with an almost sensual expression. The handle on the axe is in line with her lips and the blade just above her head. She is in a castle, surrounded by skeletons in rotting clothes, many of them with swords sticking out of them. Black Speech bubbles read “All ye who wander the empty night... your names are... brother of sleep...”]

Freya from Prince Freya with a sword (M: Keiko Ishihara T: John Werry L: Sabrina Heep E: Pancha Diaz)

[ID: An adrogynous looking person (Freya) in a medievil-inspired soldier’s uniform and half-plate, smacks a sword into the side of a man in a full set of plate armour. The impact looks immense. Freya’s eyes are bright white, her teeth clenchd in determination.]

Kiki and her sword from Snow White With The Red Hair (M: Sorata Akiduki T: Caleb Cook L: Brandon Bovia E: Karla Clark)

[ID: Kiki points her sword directly at the head of a young soldier collapsed on his knees in the pouring rain. Her expression is that of showing no mercy as the boy yells at her. “This grand scheme may come to naught... ... but if he is permitted to live, my brother...”]

Lucy Yang from Blue Exorcist with her black daggers (M: Kazue Kato T: John Werry L: John Hunt)

[ID: A short, elderly chinese woman with her hair in a bun wears a traditonal robe. She stands ontop of a circular platform made of rock. She has a pipe in her mouth, and three daggers stick out of the long sleeves of her robes. Sound effects on either side of her read “Kting” and “Klang”. Someone off panel shouts: “The smaller demons disappeared!”]

Margret of Anjou from Requiem of the Rose King with a dagger, proving that I support women’s wrongs as well as women’s rights. (M: Aya Kanno T: Jocelyne Allen L: Sabrina Heep E: Joel Enos)

[ID: A faceless woman in Mid-1400s British Clothing stabs the leg of a blooded and batterd man tied to a pole causing him to cry out in pain. “Show me the same of your disgrace... ... or else my anger shall never be quenched!!”]

Mitsuri from Demon Slayer: Stories of Water and Flame with her Katana (M: Ryoji Hirano & Koyoharu Gotogue T: John Werry L: John Hunt E: Jennifer Sherman)

[ID: Mitsuri protects a terrified woman and child from an unknown enemy. She brandashes her katana in one hand and holds a bomb made of stuck together dynamite. Her braided hair flies about dramatically, she has a fearsome expression.]

Rangetsu and her trusty polearm from The King’s Beast (M: Rei Toma T: JN Productions L: Monaliza De Asis E: Pancha Diaz)

[ID: An androgynous looking person with fox ears and a tail wearing an ancient chinese-inspired soldier’s uniform sits ontop of a pile of rocks. She is surrounded by dead bodies that at first glance appear to just be part of the rock formation. She has a mournful expression as she rests her bloodied polearm against her body. ‘No matter how much blood got on my hands. Even when... it coated me so heavily that the weight of it never went away.]

Silvia Sherwood from Spy X Family using a belt as an improvised weapon. (M: Tatsuya Endo T: Casey Loe L: Rina Mapa)

[ID: A middle aged woman with a ponytail and wearing a black skirt suit uses a belt to elegantly smash in the face of a security officer, sending him flying backwards. Sound effect in japanese is translated as ‘fwak’.]

Yae from Demon Slayer: Stories of Water and Flame and her hunter’s rifle (M: Ryoji Hirano & Koyoharu Gotogue T: John Werry L: John Hunt E: Jennifer Sherman)

[ID: A girl in traditional japanese winter mountain clothing, wearing a bandana/scarf over her black hair. She has a sad yet determined expression, as if holding back tears with everything she has. In her hands she holds a 1910s style hunting rifle with two spare bullets in her fingers. In boxed text: Aim for your target’s vital spot... And then squeeze.. the trigger.]

Yoshino from Yakuza Fiance with a knife (M: Asuka Konishi T: M. Fulcrum A: Sopha Tyrant L: Arbash Mughal E: Abb Lehrke)

[ID: Colour Page of a high school girl straddling the lap of a high school boy. She is pulling him aggressively by the collar, the wooden shieve of a knife in her mouth, and said knife at the boy's throat having already begun to slit it. She looks at the viewer with a ferocious glare. The boy is looking way too into all this. Text reads "Chapter 1: No place for a sore loser (Part 1)’]

Zacro from Tokyo Mew Mew and her whip (M: Reiko Yoshida & Mia Ikumi T: Elina Curran L: AndWorld Design)

[ID: An Older Teen Girl with long black hair, large wolf ears and a tail wears shorts and a heart shaped crop rop. She has a fur lined collar. She aggresively holds on to the end of a lasso/whip that is wrapped around a large moth like beast creature that is looking threateningly at her. A younger girl in a tunic and shorts raises her hands in the air in celebration. She has a monkey tail.]

#Shojo #Shonen #12 Days of Manga 2022 #12 Days of Manga #Manga #Prince Freya #Snow white with the red hair #blue exorcist #tokyo mew mew #demon slayer #spy x family #requiem of the rose king #the king's beast #yakuza fiance #seinen

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff. and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother. if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff. Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt. Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it. Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll. “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence. “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned. Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you. “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well. The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that. Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed. “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard. It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this. She could do better than him anyways! But she didn’t care about that, only money and status. You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh. You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life. You were just numb.

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer. It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his. You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table. He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know. Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway. You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly. Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink. Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe. There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled. “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’. This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity. Almost.

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned. “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!”

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face. It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over. You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room. That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death. So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions. You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either. And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more. You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it. Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot. You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else. You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible. You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything. Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently. The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen. She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though. You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one. At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along. Friday night was different, though. This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning. That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it. It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside. You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow. It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms. He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face. You didn’t let it get this far just to give up. You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey. You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak. “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could. You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this. Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me. I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once. All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response. “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you! You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled. It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed. It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before. He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked. You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes. He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits. It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was. You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet. You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly. You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain. But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse. Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward. Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused. You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him. He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed. “You are in dire need of a punishment. You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal. “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh? Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers. “This fuckin’ mouth. You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you? Come on baby, open up. I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip. You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see? You’re so wet for it,” he purred. You tried to speak but words abandoned you.

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed. His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth. He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting. You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy. “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock. Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe. His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough. You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait? I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled. “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring. Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra. Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands.

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside. “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor. A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you. You shook your head again. “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly. “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason. You gonna be good for me now?”

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs. “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind. You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more. Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority. “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart? Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?” He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands. A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers. They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off. You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor. “I can smell how much you want it.” He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue. “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised. You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs. You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come. And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily. It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now. Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment. Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you.

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth. “Beg me. To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed. It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned. He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true. And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother. He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon. Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not. At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you. Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it? Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher. Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer. He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright. He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned. “Feel that, sweetheart? Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face. “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed. You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl? Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed. “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop. Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day). He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you. “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out. He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked. It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip. He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt. “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?”

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath. You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction. You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer. “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

#lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #dark fic

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strangelysamantha · 3 years ago

Text

crashing ☆

rafe cameron x gn!reader.

warnings: reader gets injured, car crash, swearing.

words: 3,106.

summary: rafe is waiting for you to meet him at figure 8, but he’ll be waiting awhile as you got in a tragic car accident, the other vehicle being driven by his father.

request? no! requests are opened!

a/n: use of they/them pronouns. like and comment if you enjoy this story! thanks <333

my masterlist

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“alright baby. of course. i love you!! yes, i’m leaving now.” rafe was on the other side of your phone, ensuring that you were ready for your dinner date. the two of you have plans to meet at the figure eight. you will eat at a nice restaurant, and then finish the date off with a scroll through the park while watching the sunset. rafe had planned the whole thing out, excited he could finally show you how much you meant to him. rafe smiled, “okay babe. i’ll see you in a few. i can't wait to see your precious face.” heat rushes to your face because of rafes words. “see you in a few.” you hang the phone up, grabbing your car keys.

you walk to your car that is sitting in your driveway. you hop in, starting your car. you put your seatbelt on, using your phone, you do a map search to the location rafe had sent you. you turn the music up slightly. you check behind you for passing cars or pedestrians, and when the coast was clear, you pulled out of your driveway, and started the drive to rafe.

you had only been driving for five minutes. you were caught at a red light. your light turned green so you pressed the gas to go. immediately a large black car t boned straight into you, hitting you head on. luckily, it had smashed into the passenger side, but the weight from the other car caused your car to shift, making you to hit your head against your steering wheel, and the car's window. the car crashed into a light pole. you were on the border between the cut and figure eight. nobody was ever there unless they were passing by. you struggled to look up, trying to see if you knew who had crashed into you.

the car that slammed into you looks vaguely familiar. you understood why when the guy who jumped out of the car was none other than ward, rafe’s father. you frowned. he rushed to your car, ready to yell at you but panicked when he saw who you were. ward immediately ran back to his car. he hopped into his car, speedily driving away.

you feel around for your phone. when you finally find it, your screen is cracked, and the screen is black. it won’t turn on. the phone must have slipped from your cup holder onto the side of the door, causing it to break. you drove your car forward so you weren’t positioned into the middle of the street. you shut your car off. your head begins to feel light headed, you close your eyes, trying to make the pain minimal. your eyes shut, and you could feel yourself slowly passing out. you try to stay awake, but the sleep engulfed you.

rafe was panicking. you were never late. well, yes you run late, but never without texting first. anytime you ran into trouble you would immediately message him and let him know. he hated this. he didn’t know what he should do. he tried to call your phone but it went straight to voicemail. he exited the restaurant, searching for either you or your car but he couldn’t find either. he frowned to himself. did you intentionally miss dinner? did he do something wrong? rafe was scared, what if you were in danger?

rafe pulled his phone out. he set his feud aside, calling pope. pope glanced at the caller id that was currently ringing his phone. he was shocked to say the least. “rafe?” pope questioned through the phone. pope didn’t want to answer but if rafe truly needed something from pope, he wouldn’t hesitate to get it from him in person. he knew it would be easier if he just answered and figured out what he needed. “pope?” rafe bombarded pope with questions about you; and your whereabouts. pope was confused. he hadn’t seen you since this morning.

“i’m sorry rafe, but i haven’t seen them since early this morning. i’m down the street from their house if you want me to knock on their door?” rafe sighed, “please. see if they are home.” pope nodded. “alright one second.” pope rushed to your front door. he knocked three times. “the car isn’t here, they seem to have left.” rafe smiled. “okay. thank you, pope. i appreciate it, man.” rafe felt relieved. “no problem.”pope hung up. you had actually left to meet him at the restaurant. but if that was true, why weren’t you at the restaurant yet?

rafe decided to stay put. he got confirmation that your car was gone. that shows you had safely left your house. if you don’t show in the next ten minutes then rafe would go looking for you.

you kept dozing in and out of consciousness. after the third time of passing out, you actually stay awake. you open your car door, stumbling out of it. your head hurt, and you felt light headed. you look around, no civilians. you yell out, but no one is around to hear. “HELLO??” you walk away from your car, just a little bit. you take in your surroundings. you walked back to your car.

you try to turn your car back on but the engine is stalled, it doesn’t even sputter again. you sink into the seat, laying your head on the head rest. you pull down the little mirror, examining your face. you hadn’t noticed, but the top right of your forehead was bleeding. It looked to have a pretty big gash. you had a bruise on your left cheek from when your head slammed against the steering wheel. you look at the time, noticing that it was ten minutes past your date with rafe. you jumped out the car, walking towards your house once more.

before you could step inside, you ran into pope. you noticed he peeked through your window. “peeping pope, why are you looking through my window?” you laugh at the added nickname. he stayed still, thinking of an explanation. “rafe called me saying you were late to something and he was worried.” he finally turned around, glancing at you. “what! what happened to your face?” he rushed towards you automatically inspecting the cut and bruises.

“i got in a car accident, ward cameron t boned into me.” you continued, “he got me good. slammed my head against the window and the steering wheel.” pope shook his head, panicked. “we have to get you to the hospital! you had two blows to your head; that's double the chance of internal bleeding.” pope helped you, carrying you inside his dad's car. he speedily drove you to the hospital, signing you in. they took you back, while pope stayed seated in the waiting room.

someone was going to have to call rafe; and it certainly wasn’t going to be pope. before going into the back room, you had handed pope your phone. he plugged it into the quick charging station to see if it was dead. sure enough, the low battery symbol turned on. the phone automatically turned on, showing the numerous mixed texts from rafe. pope ignored them, not wanting to be the one to answer them since it wasn’t his phone.

rafe decided to check your location one last time. the first few times he had checked, it said your location services were off. he didn’t know why it said that, he honestly believed it to be some glitch. rafe’s air got stuck in his throat when he saw your location had updated to being inside the outer banks hospital. he jumped in his car, not even thinking twice. he drove straight to you.

he gave himself a prep talk, telling himself to just remain calm and to see what was going on. he walked into the hospital, his eyes searching for you. he didn’t see anyone he recognized until he saw pope, with your phone situated in his hand. he walked towards pope, snatching the phone from his arm. “why do you have this?” pope shook his head, muttering under his breath. “shit.”

“come on pope. spit it out.” pope shook his head. “rafe, before you do this protective bullshit, just know i’m actually the one who saved them.” rafe stared at pope, confused. “saved them? from what? what do you mean saved them?” rafe questioned pope, “someone crashed into them while they were driving to you. they found me and i rushed them here.” rafe stared at pope. “how bad is it?”

pope shrugs. “i’m sorry, i really don’t know much. they said they were t boned, their head hit the window and the steering wheel. we drove by the car, it’s totaled. crashed into a pole.” rafe continued to stare at pope with wide eyes. “what… how long ago was this?” pope looked out the hospital windows. “a little after they left their house i’d say. it was a seven minute drive from my house to the crashed car, so i’d say five minutes.” rafe sat in the seat directly to popes left.

rafe was breathing erratically. his mind running wild with the amount of possible outcomes. the nurse walks out into the waiting room; and calls your name. rafe immediately stands up walking forward. “we believe the car crash caused them to undergo serious head trauma. no signs of internal bleeding; but we are still checking everyone in a while. you can go back and talk to them if you want.” the nurse smiles softly. rafe looks back at pope, and pope nods his head.

rafe continues, following after the nurse as she leads him to your waiting room. when he walked inside, you were peacefully sleeping. “they should be waking up soon. we truly believe that they will be okay.” rafe nodded at the nurse, watching as she left him. rafe’s hand reached up to yours, grabbing it. he scooted the chair closer to the bed. rafe quickly texted pope saying that he was okay to leave, and that he would keep pope updated.

the wait at the doctors felt like hours, but rafe stayed with you the whole time. he had sat on the chair by your bed, his hand always holding yours. the nurse comes back in. “i’m sorry sir, but visiting hours are over, usually we would allow people to stay the night but in this case they really need rest and if they wake up and you’re here; they will force themselves to talk to you.” rafe frowned, “they have a chance to wake up, and now you want me to go home?” the nurse frowns at him. “i’m sorry, but they need to sleep as much as they can, you can see them bright and early tomorrow morning at seven am.” rafe slowly lowers his head. “okay.”

he walks out of the hospital room, and to his car. he decides he will go home, get clothes prepared for you, and will try to figure out your car situation. then he would sleep, wake up, and meet you at the hospital right when visitation opens. he put his seatbelt on, driving home.

when rafe reached his house he realized that his dad's car had crashed in the front. it looked gruesome. rafe walked inside, greeting his dad. his dad nodded his head in response, walking away. rafe went straight to wheezy, his sister. he knocked on her door and went to open it. “rafe?” she questions him. he looked around. “what happened to dad's car?” he hoped wheezy knew. she tilted her head inviting him inside her room.

she began to whisper. “okay, so basically like our dad t boned someone on the outside of the cut, and he said it’s completely the other person's fault; but sarah believes that’s not true unless he didn’t actually t bone someone, and he was actually just getting brake checked on the highway. how could it not be his fault?” wheezy looked up at rafe’s face and was utterly shocked by his expression.

“rafe? why are you looking at me like that?” wheezy tilted her head to the side, confused. “our father is the reason..” rafe shakes his head, now pacing up and down the floor. you were in the hospital, because of his father. he filled wheezy in, telling her about what happened with you. she gasps in shock. “what are you going to do?” wheezy watched him, he was frantic. “i’m, i think i’m going to confront him.” wheezy half smiled, “okay. you got this! good luck!”

rafe left his sisters room and head to his fathers office. he was always scared of his father, now more than ever, but he needed answers. he knocked three times on the door, and his father opened it, to reveal himself. “hello rafe.” he walks inside, sitting on the chair in front of his desk. “dad, i know you are the reason the car is crashed; and you are the reason someone very important to me is in the hospital.” his dad stood up, straightening his back. “no. they twisted the story, now out. i won’t have you critique me in my own room.” rafe wanted to stand his ground, but he knew he should back down.

he didn’t want to waste all his energy, he still needed to prepare to see you. rafe went straight to his room, picking out a pair of his sweatpants, and a hoodie for you to change into after you get released from the hospital. he put the extra clothes including a pair of your socks into a baggy. rafe speedily changed into pajamas, and hopped into bed. hoping the morning would come faster.

rafe woke up at 6:20am. he had taken a quick shower and changed into new clothes. he grabbed your bag of clothes and hopped into his car. he drove straight to the hospital. he had arrived five minutes before visitation started.

at 7am on the dot, rafe was walking to your room. you were awake, the frown on your face caused his heart to drop. “hey baby.” you glanced up at him and softly smiled. “hey rafe.” he smiles in return. “how are you? i brought you extra clothes.” he lifted the baggy up, before setting it on the extra chair. you reach your hand out to him, and he swiftly moves closer to you. he pulls the chair up once again, sitting directly by your side. “i would have stayed here all night but i was kicked out.” you nod at his words, “sound about right.”

he smiles, his hand tracing shapes on your palm. “how are you feeling?” you wait. “i’m okay. the doctor said the worst thing i have is a concussion. they said if all the other tests come back good, then i’ll be cleared to go home.” he nods smiling, “yay! we’ll be able to take you home!” you bite your lip containing your smile, but it quickly turns sour. you frown at him.

“i’m sorry, rafe.” you look away from him, avoiding eye contact. “for what?” he questions, his heart speeding up scared at what you are about to apologize for. “for missing our date, i really wanted to go.” you frown. he cups your chin. “it’s okay, trust me. i already have it rescheduled,” he looks over at you. “so once you get better, we can go on like we originally planned.” the room went silent, the only thing being heard was the heart rate machine slowly beeping.

“rafe i love you.” he smiles. “i love you too.” you nod contentedly. the doctor walks in, “good morning. today you’ll be able to go home. you seem to only be suffering from a concussion. you’ll have to stay home and rest, don’t do too much or else you’ll be delaying the inevitable. the less time you relax, the longer you’ll be suffering.” rafe talked to the doctor as you played with the tape from the iv inside your hand.

rafe nodded. the nurse came over to you, taking the iv out, as well as the square patches that covered your chest. she left, shutting the door, allowing you to get dressed in new clothes. you frown, the medicine they gave you makes you feel slightly sluggish. “i’ll help you, don’t worry.” rafe untied the medical gown, he slipped it off. he grabbed the hoodie, placing it over your head. you slip your arms through the holes, rafe’s smell surrounding you.

you sit up in the bed, your feet over the edge. you hiss at the cold floor which hits your sock less feet, making you cold. rafe slid his sweatpants on to you. you go to stand up, but he stops you. “let’s put your socks on first, the hospital floor is cold.” you sit back down on the bed. his hand reaches for your foot, it is cool around his hand. he slid your socks on, and then the sweatpants. finally putting your shoes on. “thank you rafe.” he tied the plastic bag shut, it now filled with your old clothes. “anytime baby, i’m always here for you.” you stand up, your hand slipping into his hand, his arm stabilizing you.

the nurse walked in. “the medicine we gave you should be wearing off shortly. that’s why you seem so… out of place.” the nurse nodded, signing you out. the nurse walked you to rafes car. fear began to creep up, now nervous to be in a car again. “it’s okay, you’ll be okay.” you nod. you sit yourself in the passenger seat. rafe thanked the doctors, before running to his side of the car. he hopped in, putting his seatbelt on. he looked over to you, making sure you were okay. he drove extra careful, going straight to your house.

once you arrive at your house, the medicine wears off allowing you to be able to be yourself. you walked to your front door. rafe used his spare key to unlock the door. once inside you go straight to your room, rafe following after you. you lay down on the bed, you pat the spot by you; and rafe sat down by you. he cuddled with you. his head finding its way in your neck, his arms wrapping around your torso.

after a few minutes of silence you spoke up. “your dad is the one that hit me. he ran through a red light.” rafe frowned against your neck, whispering. “i know.” you nod, your hand running through his hair. “okay.” you smile softly, closing your eyes. falling asleep with rafe by your side.

<33

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griffintail · 4 years ago

Note

Could you do some dream team (separately) who’s friends with a male streamer reader, and they just think their really good friends, but after reader comes out on stream they go “uh oh, UH OH” and it’s some good old fashion pining.

Fair warning, I’m straight as a pole and not very educated about coming out or that kind of stuff in general. If I got something wrong, educate me please. I hope you enjoy it past that.

One of the boys

Pairings: Dream, Sapnap, Georgenotfound x M! Reader

Warnings: Light swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dream

Dream thought he knew everything about his friends. Especially with his pretty good friend, (Y/N). (Y/N) knew pretty much everything about him and he thought he knew everything in turn about him.

Turned out, that wasn’t the case.

(Y/N), the poor guy had been a pretty small streamer when he started to talk to Dream. Dream helped him out so much and was so nice to him, it was hard for the guy to develop a crush on the guy. He hoped to god he wasn’t super obvious about it but when the guy who you got a crush on has about nineteen million people watching him, there’s going to be at least one of them that picks up on it.

Dream thought it was another shipping thing originally, just like with George. (Y/N) knew different of course.

The audience just knew and found all the moments (Y/N) knew he had.

When Dream would laugh, (Y/N) would often give a wistful smile. If someone would donate and ask if (Y/N) had seen his face, (Y/N) would brag he had but of course, go beet red thinking about it. He was also quick to join Dream’s side in any sort of disagreement.

There…there were a lot of compilations.

After a while, (Y/N) felt like his audience needed someone to look to with some of the stories they shared. So, he felt like it was time to finally come out.

Dream was shocked to find out the information, to say the least. How had he completely missed this huge fact?! The faceless man was slightly concerned when he saw (Y/N) was streaming with “Serious Talk” as his stream title and tuned into the stream, finding out at (Y/N) talked to his audience about it. He sat there for a few moments as (Y/N) cheered some people on for coming out themselves.

A few things started to make sense to Dream as he thought about it.

“Oh.” He muttered. “OH!”

Yeah, all of the push-away moments when (Y/N) had gotten awkward or quickly changed the subject away from different things involving Dream made so much sense now. So, when he ended his stream, Dream gave him a call.

“Hey, what’s Dream?” (Y/N) answered, Dream able to hear him shutting down his setup.

“I saw your stream.” Dream told him simply.

(Y/N) paused from standing up in his chair. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It was silent for a moment.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” (Y/N) said.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you want to talk about it over some Pizza hut?” Dream grinned.

“What?” (Y/N) asked confused. “Do you have screw loose man?”

“No, I’m buying you a plane ticket and we’re actually going to meet at a Pizza Hut because I’m not going on a Minecraft date.”

And that’s how Dream wheezed for three minutes on the phone as (Y/N) sat there, brain having short-circuited off.

They’d be fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

George

George could kind of tell, about (Y/N), for a little while and would sometimes use this fact to fuck with him. He would do his usual stupid, flirtatious banter with him but that messed with (Y/N) more than he realized.

(Y/N) felt like he was going to go nuts every time George would give his cute flirtatious comments. Chat knew too, and that just made (Y/N) feel like he was going to go even more nuts.

Yet, when George did the same with Dream, (Y/N) felt jealous. If they were playing a game together and George and Dream were doing their usual fan service flirts, (Y/N) would sometimes be close by as Dream would somehow trip into lava or fall of a bridge. He didn’t know how it happened and snitches get stitches chat.

After a while of this, (Y/N) started to gain a bit of confidence and threw it back and the shipping wars that followed after (Y/N) got confident was insane. Of course, while George’s were mostly joking, none of (Y/N)’s was.

He eventually decided to come out after a while of his chat just piecing it together on their own and George wasn’t super surprised, mostly surprised that he had gotten it correct.

Life went on as normal for a while but George started to see how differently his good friend acted around him. He thought it was just him being friendly but now, now it made more sense.

“Hey (Y/N),” George said, coming up to him in-game as they were playing Minecraft on stream, big shocker.

“Yo.” (Y/N) looked from his chat.

George dropped him a cornflower and (Y/N) frowned.

“What’s this for?” He asked.

“Be my Minecraft boyfriend?”

(Y/N).exe has stopped working.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sapnap

Man wouldn’t know unless someone threw a brick at him with the truth scribbled on it. (Y/N) allowed himself to be obvious knowing this fact himself.

(Y/N) chat constantly called him a simp because of it but he didn’t give two shits and just let them have their fun. They didn’t know yet anyway.

He would constantly “jokingly” flirt with Sapnap, covering it to say that they needed to rival Dream’s and George’s relationship just in case Sapnap got the hint. He would actually blush though when Sapnap would play along and tried to play it off with chat. It didn’t help either when they were both a rather chaotic duo together and people called (Y/N) Sapnap’s flint to his steel.

It was a bit heartbreaking to (Y/N) though that all the comments were one-sided and Sapnap didn’t know that he was actually being more serious than he had in his life. (Y/N) let it be though and he stuck to the “jokes” and reading some fanfiction; he got bored alright?

Finally, though, (Y/N) wanted to lead by example when a few of his donators talked about being scared to come out. It was one of the few times (Y/N) was deadly serious with his chat, usually wanting to keep things light. The internet took it from there and Sapnap was more than shocked to find out about his friend from Twitter of all things.

...

Sapnap @ sapnap

@(Username) you got something to tell me?

(Username) @ (Username) replying to @ sapnap

I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious man.

...

Sapnap stared at his phone for a minute and thought about it. Holy hell, it had been.

...

Sapnap @ sapnap replying to @ (Username) and @ sapnap

Well then are you going to stop beating around the bush and ask me out?

...

(Y/N) replied with the clip of Dream falling out of his chair because he did that same.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #dream x reader #sapnap x reader #georgenotfound x reader

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its-deputy-caleb · 3 years ago

Note

If you're feeling up to writing a bit of Mikey, could I please request him being an asshat to everyone and being told off by his S/O after he asks Jack if he wants to earn a dollar?

(You know the part where he says to ask Arthur about the stick up his butt?)

He's such a dickhead and I find myself telling the screen off when he does it! 😂

His S/O giving him a slap and a bollocking after he kicks Cain, then they fuss over Cain and force Micah to make friends with him.

I dunno, it's up to you 😂 You could write any scenario you want, I'll still love it 😘😘

i am always up to writing for a bit of mikey (that nickname is so cute) but ngl i had no idea how to write this or put this together. I watched the clips again so i could get it accurate but i changed it bc i didn't know if u wanted a happy ending or not but i hope i delivered <33 also u asked for either and i gave u both :)

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

Clemens Point was a strange place with even stranger people. After leaving valentine in a hurry it seems the entire gang was on edge and ready to blow like a stick of dynamite. It seems having to act like upstanding heartfelt citizens to the Grays and the Braithwaites has meant everyone is that aggravated and pent up.

On more than one occasion you’d seen Sadie lose it when Pearson got to pushy with chores and it seems Abigail and John couldn’t stand to have a normal conversation for five minutes before one of them broke. It wasn’t much better with Dutch and Hosea who were constantly disagreeing on the right moves for the gang, although they were much more civil about it.

You did your best to keep out of everyone’s way, to avoid the confrontation but knowing your luck you’d end up getting involved one way or another.

You were returning to camp one sweltering hot afternoon with Sadie after you finished collecting the gang’s weekly stock from the general store. You were only half listening to the hustle around the camp as you were too busy listening to Sadie tell you all about Pearson’s dear aunt Cathy. You stepped off the wagon and headed to the back to start unloading some of the supplies when the sound of Micah’s voice could be heard talking to Jack.

“How’d ya like to earn a dollar?”

His voice with thick with malice as he hunched over the wooden table. In Micah’s hands was a silver nickel that he fiddled with between his fingers, much like you’d seen of him do with his knife. Your eyes found Jack who was almost reluctant to get anywhere near the man who you knew scared him. However, being the innocent child that he was his eyes lit up at the sight of something shiny.

“A dollar? Sure.”

You carried the heavy bag of potatoes over to Pearson’s wagon as you went back for another round of supplies but you kept the boy in the corner of your eye.

“Well…go on up to old Arthur Morgan, ask him about the pole he’s got stuck up his ass and I’ll give ya a dollar.”

Micah’s face lit up in a smirk, his accent thick and his typical evil giggle falling from his mouth. He sat back on the chair, satisfied at the mischief he’s caused.

Before you could get anywhere Jack had run off to where Arthur was sitting in his tent, reading over a letter. You placed another round of ammunition into Strauss’ wagon, dropping it hastily and running as you saw Arthur walk right up to Micah with a murderous look in his eye.

“I’ll give you a dollar if you shut your—“

Arthur didn’t get to finish his insult before you stepped in front of him with a soft hand on his shoulder. You gave him a soft smile and a nod, quietly saying to your dear friend that you’d handle this.

With that you turned with your own look of anger directed to Micah. Everyone knew you loved him but they also knew you didn’t hesitate to call him out and get him to behave when you had to.

“Micah leave the damn boy alone!”

He scoffed like he wasn’t offended you didn’t defend him and instead chose to call him out. Micah’s hands came up in his signal of fake defeat as he slowly backed away from his place at the table, acting as if he was nothing more than the innocent bystander and not the one who nearly ended up on the ground with a broken nose for starting it.

You watched as Micah lingered around the edge of the camp, his eyes trained to yours as he lit a cigarette but you ignored him. Instead you walked over to Jack, smiling softly and taking his hand to lead him to the river’s edge.

“Common, why don’t we go see if we can find any beautiful rock on the sand, hmm? I’m sure your mother would love such a beautiful gift.”

Of course, it wasn’t more than a few days later when you ran into trouble again with Micah. You’d spent your time ignoring him mostly, instead choosing to go hunting with Charles and Arthur, practice your throwing knives with Javier and help teach Jack to read. You knew how badly it pissed Micah off to do things without him but he needed to understand that there was a way to treat people, especially with people you considered family.

You rolled up your sleeves, using your forearm to wipe the sweat from your forehead as you picked up the knife and started cutting carrots and potatoes for tonights stew.

“Are you a good boy? Yes you are! The best boy”

Your head came up to notice bill sitting against the log by the campfire, scratching under Cain’s chin and giving the energetic dog pats along the back. You couldn’t help but smile at the new addition to the gang and how happy it made you to see Bill less stressed. It seemed that having Cain made everyone feel more caring and loving.

All except Micah.

“You’re the fool that feed’s him Marion. He ain’t nothing more than a filthy mongrel and an extra mouth to feed.”

Micah had stood from his place on the opposite side of the campfire to antagonise Bill. A frustrated noise leaves you as you slam the knife down on the wooden bench, ready to storm over there and chew Micah’s ear off. You take a step forward only for Miss Grimshaw, who was working next to you, to grab your arm and stop you before you get any further.

“There is a time and a place dear, don’t make it worse.”

Of course you knew Susan was just trying to keep another argument from happening but you push past her when you see Micah inching towards Cain who had left his spot at Bill’s feet to hide by a wagon. In a split second decision you pick the knife you’re cooking with and use it like a throwing knife to get his attention. The knife swings through the air, not getting near anyone, it wasn’t like you actually wanted to stab Micah no matter how badly he could get on your nerves and watched as it got wedged into the tree behind him.

Micah’s head shot up, his foot moving away from Cain and stared dumbfounded and shocked, unused to seeing you so skilfully throw a knife but your practices paid off. You walked right into his personal space, taping your finger against his chest.

“Don’t. You. Dare”

Micah’s first response was to try and sweet-talk his way out of it like he always does but you were in no mood to deal with his slyness.

“Dare to do what sweetheart? Common now… weren’t gonna do nothin—“

Your hand came to give Micah a crisp slap across the cheek, apart of you was shocked that you’d even do such a thing but the other half of you was furious.

“Don’t underestimate for a minute that I won’t dump you right now and throw you out of camp Micah. I’m not some stranger you can sweet-talk when you get in trouble. I swear, if I see you go anywhere near Cain the knife isn’t going to hit the tree next time.”

Micah’s eyebrows shoot up in shock as you lecture him in front of almost the entire gang. Even Dutch put his book down when he heard your slap. He was lost for words, truely, having now other thought as he watched you walk away back to preparing tonights stew. He didn’t move from his place until he heard you whistle for Cain to sit by your feet, where he went and meandered off into the forest to give you space. All he knew was that he must have fucked up bad if you threatened to leave him.

A few hours later you’d managed to calm down, watching the sunset after Ms Grimshaw gave you the rest of the night off to relax at how pent up you were. Now sitting here you couldn’t help but feel like you may have over reacted but Micah had pushed your buttons one too many times and if Micah was going to listen to anyone it would be you. You let out a soft but hearty sigh as the tension and stress from your shoulders left with your breath. Your body relaxed against the tree and you watched the sun gently dip below the horizon.

It was well and truely dark before you heard the rustling of grass and the thud of someone sitting next to you. You thought it may have been Arthur coming to check on you but that thought died when arms wrapped around your waist and you felt Micah rest his chin on your shoulder, his stringy hair tickling your face at the gentle breeze.

“…M’ sorry…”

A very quiet and forced apology was pulled from Micah as he cuddled into you, mumbling it into your shoulder at the pain of actually having to apologise.

“Sorry won’t cut it Micah. You have to stop treating people that I care about— people that are family better.”

Micah sighs, the defeated, tired one that shows he’s willing to listen because no matter how badly he stirs up trouble, the thought of losing you is enough to have him turn his mind around.

“I know…gonna make it up to ya I promise.”

A soft and very cautious kiss is placed on your shoulder with Micah knowing he’s still not forgiven by you yet.

“You’re damn well gonna make it up to me. Firstly you’re apologising to Jack first thing tomorrow and secondly you need to pull your weight for this gang— and no I’m not talking about robbing another coach. To start you can sit on guard duty with me and you can wash my clothes.”

“I’ll just buy you new clothes”

You give Micah a death glare as you tilt your head to look at him. Instantly his teasing smirk leaves and his arms come to wrap tighter around your body, resting his hands on your stomach and intertwining your fingers.

“Alright, alright… guard duty ain’t so bad.”

You sit together for a while in a comfortable silence. All the energy from today had left you and you no longer had it in you to keep arguing. You’d hold Micah to his promise to do better but for now you leant back into his embrace and rested your head against his.

“Can I at least sleep in the tent tonight?”

You smiled softly as you hummed in contemplation just to tease him. Micah hadn’t come to sleep in your shared tent since the day he messed with Jack and both of you had missed each other despite the frustration and anger you had.

“Hmm, we’ll see.”

Micah thinks you’ve said no, panicking internally but is stopped when you turn your head and place a soft kiss to his cheek over the mark from where you’d slapped him not so long ago. It wasn’t the kiss that he wanted but he still needed to make it up to you before you gave him what he wanted.

You reached a soft hand up behind you, cradling his head and rubbing your thumb over his sore cheek.

“Is your cheek okay?”

Micah let out a gravelly noise, deep from his chest as he leaned into your hand.

“Ain’t gotta worry sweetheart, I’ve survived much worse”

You don’t get to reply when a tentative and cautious Cain makes his way over to the two of you. You pat your leg and he curls up beside you with his head resting on your leg and his tail thumbing, relaxed and happy.

Micah on the other hand was not relaxed or happy as he tensed up and moved away from the dog and you. If it wasn’t for your hand holding the back of his head he probably would’ve jumped away.

“Micah Cain isn’t going to hurt you, he just wants attention like you. See? No need to be afraid.”

To prove your point you reach a hand out and gently brush over his short, grey fur, watching as he perks up.

“I ain’t afraid!”

You would’ve believed him if you didn’t catch the waver in his voice but you knew. You knew after seeing him be spooked by the animal more than once around camp.

The hand that was still intertwined with his gently guided his hand pat Cain, letting him slowly get comfortable to him.

It took some time but finally Micah had gotten used to Cain enough to realise he was clearly not a threat. At some point Cain had moved over to Micah’s side, resting beside him as the night became later.

A yawn left you and you slowly sank into Micah’s embrace, your eyelids falling shut as you dozed, clearly exhausted.

Holding Micah to his promise was a job for tomorrow, but for now you let yourself fall asleep in his arms, the tent be damned.

#in the video micah is totally scared of cain #the man is terrified lmao #im also addicted to the nickname mikey now #adroable #and ignore the errors i have not edited this #micah bell x reader #micah bell imagine #micah bell #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2

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leroyzboots · 3 years ago

Text

you and i are trying, together.

part one

Benrey's been looking for the opportunity to apologize for...quite some time now, in fact.

Just looking at Gordon and his dripping stump he now has instead of a hand causes his stomach to churn with intense discomfort.

It doesn't help with the nightmares, either.

As if the abuse of the soldiers and the military of Black Mesa constantly swimming in and out of his dreams wasn't bad enough, now they're coupled together with the deep black room where the horror occurred.

They're standing in the mixology lab, Darnold is explaining something to Gordon, when the flashbacks are triggered heavily by a loud bang and mechanical shock from one of the many computers.

Sharp, angry metal poles stick deep into Benrey's neck and fill him with electricity, drawing a long, piercing shriek from his throat that melts into Gordon's rapid wailing.

And then Benrey is crouching on the ground, and the soldier's boot is slamming into his side, crushing and breaking his ribs, and Benrey tastes blood.

He's kneeling in it, the blood pours out from his lips and covers the floor, a massive pool of Gordon's life fluid.

The world is spinning, and Benrey faces Gordon again, and watches as the scientist raises his bloody stump, now transformed into a gun, makes a fist and shoots.

The bullets strike a numbing pain into Benrey's brain, and as Gordon shoves past him, not even sparing him a glance, he expects the daytime nightmare to end.

It doesn't.

Benrey presses his hand to his forehead, the only place the shots entered, and it comes away shaky and covered in wet, sticky red liquid.

Guess that part of it was real.

It doesn't take more than a few seconds out of the lab before the bullets clatter onto the ground and the wound heals.

They're barely a few hours out from the Lambda lab when opportunity strikes.

The ground shakes beneath their feet, and Dr. Coomer lets out a little yelp and latches onto Bubby's arm, who grabs onto Tommy's collar as the floor begins to break apart.

Bubby realizes with a horrible jolt that they only have two hands.

The tiles shatter and crumble beneath Gordon's boots, and he grabs at the closest person next to him, which is unfortunately Benrey.

As the hole expands, Benrey catches ahold of the edge of it, and stops himself from falling through, but as Gordon wraps himself around Benrey's pants leg, the combined weight of the man and his HEV suit is too much for one-handed hanging.

They fall.

It's deep, and Benrey tenses as his torso hits the concrete below with a breathtaking amount of force.

Definitely half a dozen broken ribs, a fractured shoulderblade and his spinal cord snaps.

Whatever.

He'll recover.

But Gordon lands feet first, with a sickening crack that causes him to scream and tumble over onto his side.

Benrey heals as quickly as he can, feeling his nerves re-attatch as he forces himself to stand, eyes peering up at the hole they came from.

Tommy's color-splotched face peeks over the edge, so far away that Benrey just barely can make out his features.

"Are you tw-two okay, Mr. Freeman!?" Tommy has to shout the question down at them.

It had to have been a 40, maybe 50 foot drop.

"We're...we'll be fine!" Gordon shouts back upward, his leg clutched between his hands.

"I'll circle around until we find a way back up. Keep...just keep heading to the lab and I'll c-catch up."

"Alrighty, M-Mr. Freeman!"

Tommy's head disappears, and distantly Benrey hears their retreating footsteps.

Gordon winces as he stands and tests his leg, which sticks out at a slightly bent angle near the middle of his shin.

"Dude, it's definitely broken," Benrey notes, and Gordon tenses before making a face of annoyance.

"Right," he groans, "I forgot you're with me."

And Gordon stomps off, far harder than he really should on his leg, and leaves Benrey standing beneath the light shining through the hole.

Sighing, Benrey makes a decision.

He follows, jogging to catch up to Gordon's pace before trailing slightly behind.

Gordon is very clearly not doing so hot.

He's limping, and sweating like a stuck pig to the point it's dripping off his nose onto the ground.

Benrey's been watching him carefully, and Gordon....hasn't said a word to him since the beginning.

He's leaned up against Benrey a few times on accident, but not a single sound has been in his general direction.

It's when Gordon stumbles over a fallen chair and whimpers from the pain that Benrey breaks the silence.

"Dammit, man. Alright. Sit down, dude, please?"

Gordon turns, scowling, but the exhaustion on his face is showing.

"Why do you care?"

Benrey pauses.

He could lie, of course, make something up or tell a joke to get Gordon to sit.

But he wants to apologize, and starting it out with a lie isn't..something Benrey wants to do.

So he tells the truth, even if it is hard for him to say it.

"Because I care about you, and we're friends, man. Sit down?"

Gordon scoffs, turning around all the way, and slipping slightly with his broken shin.

"We are not friends, not after you so-sold me out to the fuckin. Boot boys, the soldiers!"

He's not thinking straight, the pain alone is causing Gordon to reach incoherence.

"Yeah, well you led the soldiers to us!"

Gordon opens his mouth to retort, but Benrey cuts him off, barreling onward.

"I wasn't fucking. Angry, like Bubby was, but the dude doesn't know his damn limits, 'aight? So. Had to jump in, you know? Thought it'd be uhhh, funny little prank. Like all, surprise!"

Benrey waves his hands in place, stopping only to take a breath before continuing.

"Well, it didn't work how either of us wanted. They. They uhh."

Blood, his blood is on Benrey's hands and knees.

"They cut your damn hand off. It just..just...they cut it off like butter! Ha, ha haha, butter...and it-it was so much blood and..."

Benrey gulps, and he almost chokes as he loudly mutters the next few words.

"I thought. Thought I'd killed you, you know? Gordo, I th-thought you were dead."

He struggles, and a high pitch of navy blue sweet voice hangs in the air for a second before Benrey goes on, after another deep breath.

"Gordon, I'm really sorry. I know that. That I'm not always your gamer buddy, but I'm sorry. So if you could just fucking sit down, so I can stop watching you die, that'd be fantastic."

Gordon stares, his mouth open just a little, before he sits down, a small groan escaping him as the pressure comes off his leg.

Benrey lets out a sigh of relief, before heading back a little ways to grab the bandages from the medkit on the wall.

Crouching around the chair Gordon stumbled over, he snaps off the middle support piece and tests the sturdiness.

Gordon glances up as Benrey steps over to him, the sweat wiped away and his eyes a more gentle gaze than before.

Benrey kneels, and gingerly works off the protective plate of Gordon's boot before he looks up again, the chair beam in his left hand and the bandages in the other.

"I'm gonna uh. Set the bone. Homemade splint, you know? Tommy. Tommy, he taught me how to do this a long time ago."

Benrey pushes the beam gently against the other's shin, wrapping it down with the bandage near the bottom.

"It's. Gonna hurt, but uhh. S'gonna feel better and you'll be able to put p-pressure on it again."

Gordon takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes as Benrey pushes down hard.

The bone snaps back into place, and Gordon cries out through gritted teeth, but it's over quick and the pain is lessened by a great amount as the security guard before him wraps the entirety of his leg up to his knee.

"There. You should still uh. Rest a bit. Imma lay down."

Benrey gets to his feet, and starts to walk away, but Gordon reaches out and grabs ahold of his pants, stopping him for a second.

".....Thank you."

Gordon lets go, and leans back against the wall and closes his eyes.

Benrey stays in place, watching him carefully until he falls asleep, before sidling down a little ways off to keep watch.

Things are definitely better between the two of them after that.

When Gordon wakes up, he's much friendlier to Benrey, without any real hostility.

Honestly? Gordon's glad.

His relationship with Benrey had always been a bit complicated.

Sure, before, Benrey was annoying as hell, but he always made Gordon laugh.

He was nice, someone Gordon's own age for once, and if not someone who he could confide in, a friend.

But then, the soldiers have him, and the pain in his arm is excruciating, and everything Benrey did or does suddenly isn't so comforting.

Convinced Benrey's jokes were meant to demean him, his casual touches and close contact deception, Gordon turned and just kinda.

Let Benrey have the short end of the stick.

But earlier...Benrey tells him he cares, that Gordon's life was always in his best interests, and that they were and still are, friends.

So, it feels good to no longer make Benrey the target of his affliction.

Gordon's about to suggest looking for a vending machine, for some food, when creatures round the corner and attack.

Gordon whips out his gun hand and fires, and vaguely to his right, pistol shots ring off the walls.

The peeper puppies, as Dr. Coomer had called them, bound away from the bullets and circle the pair, releasing their sonic barks and baring their open mouths filled with jagged teeth.

Gordon steps backward, holding his gun hand close to his face to blow cool air on the barrel, the metal radiating pure heat.

Benrey bumps against Gordon's back, hastily re-loading his gun, his face screwed up in careful precision.

But then he turns, and gives Gordon a strained little smile.

A little puddle of happiness forms in Gordon's stomach before the soldiers kick open the underground doors and shoot before they aim.

Gordon finishes off the peeper puppy, then stumbles and shifts his line of fire towards the soldiers.

It's a messy fight, with Gordon constantly limping on his wounded leg, and both sides being attacked by alien creatures.

Gordon's never really seen Benrey fight before, so watching him is definitely an experience.

The way he acts is familiar.

Gordon glances between the reloading gunman ahead of him and Benrey behind him.

The way their hands move over the bullet cartridges, the way both of them hit the side of it with their palm when they're about to reload.

Benrey was trained by the same soldiers shooting at him now.

But the way that they handle guns is the only similarity, because while the military of Black Mesa are ruthless and cruel, Benrey is his own, merciful person.

Gordon fires the last few rounds of his hand before it has to cool down, and thankfully the last soldier drops to the floor.

Benrey is breathing heavily, wiping sweat from underneath his helmet visor, when he pales.

Gordon glances down as something rolls from the soldiers hand to his feet.

A grenade.

Gordon doesn't even have time to react before Benrey lunges, scooping the explosive into his hands and clutching it close to his chest, practically rolling across the ground until he's a good twenty or so feet from Gordon.

He looks back, catching Gordon's eye, and explodes.

Shrapnel bursts from the walls and cracks the paint, debris scatters all around the site and lands in the scientists' hair, who is kneeled over coughing from the dust, his eyes searching the room.

Gordon doesn't want to be alone again, he hates being alone, he hates it.

He turns, ready to head back, and then Gordon wants to vomit.

Benrey staggers, halfway through the revival-respawning process, clearly not wanting to leave Gordon too long.

But dear god.

Half of his body is still skeletal, his entire left side is just an open orifice of bones and muscle.

The bones in Benrey's legs snap together, muscle forming overtop them, before flesh and clothing crawl down to form a whole.

His leg hits solid ground, and it has to be partially startling because Benrey lurches forward, and brain matter slops out of the empty eye socket onto the floor before it vanishes.

His neck cracks, and his head moves jerkily as skin reforms over his jaw and teeth, Benrey's one green eye spinning wildly in place before the tired lid creeps back to hold it still.

A few more disgusting crunches and Benrey is back to normal, passing Gordon now, casually placing his gun back into its holster and moving on.

Gordon blinks a few times, holding back his revulsion for a moment, before chasing after him, through the doorframe into a poorly lit hallway.

"Woah, woah woah man, slow down."

Benrey stops, turning and raising an eyebrow.

Gordon points through the doorframe they came through, gesturing helplessly.

"What. What the actual hell, was that?? You...just, what??"

Benrey blinks, as though he is completely clueless.

He just might be.

"You...you died for me," Gordon finishes, a little quieter than he meant to.

"Uhhh, yeah? Isn't that what friends do?"

Benrey grins as if it's a joke, and Gordon feels the surge of irritation, but also something else he can't quite put his finger on.

"No, it is not something friends do. We do not die randomly for people."

"Yeah. Uh, you do if one of em' can't die. Then it doesn't count, idiot," Benrey says all this casually, in his own, joking around style, but Gordon pauses.

He leans forward, and adopts his casually pleasant expression, but delivers his next question with the tone one would use for a ceremony or a funeral.

"So what happens when I decide to die for you, huh?"

Benrey turns, the smirk still on his face, and opens his mouth to respond with another joke when he stops, eyes wide.

Gordon's....entirely serious.

It surprised him too, but. After the leg wrapping and the grenade stunt, Gordon is. Plenty shocked but pleasantly surprised at how willing he'd be to die for Benrey.

He expects some kind of rebuke, but instead Benrey.

Blushes?

A deep flush goes across his cheeks and his eyes dart away from Gordon's, mumbling under his breath all the while.

Gordon wonders for a second if maybe Benrey's previously irritating teasing had been something else, before he sets off after the guard, a warming smile on his face.

Tommy had lied- of course he lied, he had to lie- when he told Mr. Freeman that he couldn't handle a gun.

How else was he supposed to explain without melting the poor man's brain that he was actually an incredibly talented shot, not because of military training, but because he could control the metal?

How was he supposed to explain that through sheer mental prowess, he could morph and create the bullets to go in any direction he wished, never running out of ammo because he could simply will the ammunition into existence?

He didn't want to scare Mr. Freeman away.

Tommy hurries after the Coomers, his long legs easily making distance across the lit hallways of Black Mesa.

Having just emerged from a scuffle with aliens, they were all on edge, wary.

The three hadn't been traveling long, only a couple hours, but worry had already crept down their throats.

Surprisingly, Bubby voices his concern first.

"Do you think they'll get along all right?" They quip, mostly to Harold and himself but to Tommy as well.

"Oh, I'm certain Gordon will make it out just fine," Dr. Coomer replies, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly as a stim.

"And Benrey certainly has always survived whatever Death's thrown his way!"

Bubby nods, but the ends of their mouth turn down with a crease, and he turns to Tommy, who understands their message perfectly.

"Y-yes, Mr. Coomer but! Gordon and Ben-Benrey don't get along together very well."

Anxious, Tommy absentmindedly pulls a spare Beyblade from his pocket and fiddles with the wheels, the soft whir of the toy is calming.

"I'm worried, um, I'm worried! A-about whether they'll m-manage to...to cooperate long enough to survive together."

Dr. Coomer chortles, but the nervous look behind his eyes betrays him.

Bubby shrugs, airing out his still heated hands before speaking.

"Who knows? Maybe they'll work it out and that dumbass will finally tell Gordon how he feels."

Tommy pauses, his mouth puckered.

"Y-you know about Benrey and-and Mr. Freeman?"

"Of course I know, everyone with a damn brain knows," Bubby snorts, then falls short noticing the look on Tommy's face.

"Then you know the kind of trouble th-they're going to walk into."

"Yes," Dr. Coomer sighs, taking Bubby's hand tenderly; "we unfortunately do."

Benrey's gotta get those feelings under some goddamn control, because if he doesn't, then.

Game over, you know?

Gordon doesn't seem to understand what he does to Benrey, but it's driving him crazy.

That little thing he pulled back there?

It doesn't help, idiot. Only makes him fall for him more.

But they're both in a good mood, making some distance between them and the last time they saw the soldiers.

It's around midnight by now, and Benrey is ready to go back to sleep.

"Hey, come check this thing out!"

Gordon's excited yell shakes Benrey out of his sleepy stupor, and he hurries over to where Gordon is poking around inside of a barely-lit room, the door frame busted off its hinges in order to access the inside.

Benrey pokes his head in, and his heart slides all the way into his stomach with a horrendous lurch.

This is the room.

He hasn't been here in maybe six, seven or so years, but everything is the same as he left it.

The tube shattered, still connected to the ceiling and floor, the plaque bearing his subject number stubbornly.

The tables, bolted to the floor.

The papers, scattered and ripped, the shelves tipped over and splintered beyond saving.

"What do you think happened here?" Gordon asks, kneeling by the tube in examination of something long discarded on the floor.

Running his hands over the metal table, fingers brushing the shackles, the memories return to Benrey.

Shock collars. Sweet voice tests, hours or days or weeks locked in his tube, sick of breathing the containment fluid.

"I...I know what happened here."

"Er, what? I'm sorry?"

Gordon looks heavily confused, and reluctantly, as if this place will never let him go, Benrey lets go of the chains and shuffles over to the tube.

Taking off his badge, he holds it up to the tube plaque, both bearing the same text.

B3_NY

#7037

Gordon stares, his eyes wide, before turning to the guard.

"I thought that was like, your serial number. They...they made you here?"

Benrey swallows his anger, tossing the badge to the ground and going through the next door.

"They did more than just make me."

It's all still there.

The room is lit only from above, with a dim lightbulb buzzing meekly in its socket.

The long metal bed sits in the center, almost beckoning to Benrey with omnicity.

One of the only scars Benrey has, the precise incision made jagged by struggle, prickles on his back at the sight of it.

He just stands, biting back tears as Gordon goes around the room, looking through boxes, his scientific curiosity never satisfied, until he finds something.

He's not looking, Benrey is not looking at whatever Gordon has clutched in his fist.

In his hurry to get out of this awful room, he slams into the metal table, pushing it into the wall with a reverberating crash.

Benrey drops to the ground outside, shaking and clutching his helmet, with shuddery sobs echoing around him.

He's trying to shut out the memories, but the knives are in his back and Gordon's blood is on his hands and the lightning is in his skull and it's all so terrifyingly loud.

It's a few minutes before Gordon comes back out into the hall.

Benrey goes rigid as Gordon sits down beside him, but he makes no effort to push the subject.

Benrey relaxes, just a little, lowering his hands and leaning against the wall.

A heavy warmth wraps around his hand, and as the guard looks down, he realizes Gordon's hand is on top of his right.

Gordon is purposefully not looking at him.

Heart in his throat, Benrey slowly turns his hand palm upward, and Gordon laces their fingers together.

They're holding hands.

They're holding hands and Gordon looks a little sheepish, but he's smiling fondly and his cheeks are flushed.

Benrey stares, and then cautiously leans into Gordon's shoulder, his helmet clunking quietly against the plate of the HEV suit.

Gordon doesn't let go, and Benrey falls asleep tucked close to his warmth and their hands clasped together.

#hlvrai #frenrey #body horror #abuse #leafy writes

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fly-flower-fanfics · 4 years ago

Note

Can you do a Spencer Reid X Reader where the Reader is ftm and binds with ace bandages? The unsub can be targeting transgender people and targets the reader. Nothing too bad to the reader preferably but something happens to make the bandages visable. I know that binding with bandages is bad because I did it until I got a binder.

Sorry this took me so long. I’ve been out of it lately, so this is my first writing piece getting back into the swing of things, so I’m sorry if it’s bad. I hope this is something you were looking for!

Binding Secrets

Spencer Reid x Trans Male Reader

Warnings: ACE bandage binding. PLEASE don’t bind like this. 🥺

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This case was really stressful to me. It stressed me out more than other cases usually did. I’m sure the team has picked up on it, but I didn’t want to tell them why I was so stressed out. That was my secret and my secret alone.

There was no way I was going to be able to come out to the team. After I’ve gotten top surgery, then maybe, maybe, but certainly not now. Being transgender was a crime, it felt like. It was to this unsub apparently.

It was late and time for all of us to go home. The I could take these stupid ACE bandages off. I felt like my lungs were collapsing; it hurt to breathe. I knew that it wasn’t safe, especially for a job like mine where we have to be on the move a decent amount, but I hadn’t gotten around to buying a binder yet.

I was stopped by Spencer just before I got into my car, though. Part of me didn’t mind because I had a crush on the genius, but another part of me did mind because I was tired, and I just wanted to go home.

“What’s up, Spence?” I asked.

He hesitated a moment, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I’m worried about you,” he said softly at first. He then cleared his throat. “You’ve been acting different lately, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” I said with a soft smile. Was I?

“Y/N, I can tell when you’re lying to me. You have a tell, just like everyone else. Please...”

I felt bad lying to him, But I couldn’t tell him. My throat tightened like I was going to cry. “I need you to drop it, Spence,” I said softly

“Why? Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Because I can’t, Spencer!”

He shook his head, dropping his arms by his side. “This is exactly what I get when I trust someone; it gets thrown back in my face.”

“Spencer, that’s not what this fucking is!” I yelled at him, tears now streaming down my cheeks.

Spencer’s demeanor changed completely as he noticed my tears.

“It has nothing to do with you, Spencer,” I said, wiping at my face aggressively. I hated that I was crying so easily. But I knew it was because of my stress and how close I was to snapping.

Truth was was that I was scared. I was scared that I would be the next victim. That I wouldn’t be safe in my own home. All because I was trans and some guy out there thought that that was a crime and needed to kill me for it.

“Y/N....”

I shook my head, holding up a hand. “Save it. I’m sorry for yelling at you. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go home now.” With that, I got into my car and left.

The next day, I was really anxious to see Spencer. I had already apologized for yelling at him, but that didn’t change the fact that I had yelled at him.

I went to the bathroom and grabbed my ACE bandage, looking at it sadly. I hated that stupid thing. I could feel it practically squishing my ribs and lungs. I hated it so much. I couldn’t just not wear it though. I didn’t need the team seeing my chest.

I began wrapping it around and secured it in place once I was finished. I took a breath and sighed. At least it wasn’t too bad in the beginning of the day.

I made my way to my car and began to drive to work. The anxiety of seeing Spencer returned. I felt bad. Maybe I should apologize again. I pulled into my parking spot and shook my head. No, if he still had beef with me, he would say so, right?

I walked to my desk and set my things down, going to grab a coffee. As I made it, I was already making a face because I knew how bad;y it would taste.

“You know, I have to make my coffee deliberately bad so I can drink it now,” I said to Morgan, who has just walked in.

He laughed. “I know what you mean. However, I still like a good cup of joe.”

I chuckled softly and went back to my desk, looking over the case file. We had a pretty good idea who the unsub was. We had just been waiting on Garcia to get the right information about him.

The team quickly left, leaving Spencer and me behind, as they went to catch the unsub.

My gaze turned toward the genius again. His hair looked soft as it framed his face. His beautiful eyes intently read whatever book he was reading. His perfect hands turned the pages every couple of seconds.

Best not to disturb him.

I looked over the last bits of information as I was clearing off the board to make a little bit more room when I realized something. The gate. How had we missed that? The gates were his signature, doors to whatever he thought. I couldn’t figure out that part. But it made me realize that now, the team was going after the wrong guy.

I quickly grabbed my coat and ran out to my car. I had to catch this guy before he caught someone else. I swallowed hard as I threw my car into gear. Who else would be better bait for this guy than a trans man like myself?

I made my wait to the gate that was in the last picture and entered the abandoned house. This was where the last victim was found, but we had figured that he liked to revisit the crime scenes. I was just banking on the fact that he hadn’t revisited this one since it had been blocked off for a couple of days.

I drew my gun and tip-toed quietly through the halls. A squeaky floorboard gave away my position, and I froze. Had he heard? Was he even here? I shook my head and continued down the hallway.

I heard a noise from behind me. I turned, but I wasn’t able to see what or who it was before something hit me in the face and knocked me out.

I woke up, dazed and confused. I tried to move but realized that my arms were tied behind me and I was stuck to a pole. I jerked to try and free myself, but it was useless.

The unsub walked over to me, twirling a knife around his fingers. “Y/N L/N, I am familiar with you. The only trans member in the BAU, isn’t that right?”

I sneered at him, still trying to free myself. “So the fuck what? How do you even know who I am?”

“Oh, I know a lot more than you may think,” he said, walking up to me and lifting my chin with the knife. “But that’s all surprise for later on.”

He slashed at the sleeve of my coat with his knife. “First, we play a game. It’s called Tell Me The Truth Or I’ll Take One Article Of Clothing At A Time.”

“Long title of a stupid ass game,” I muttered to myself, mentally cringing. Sometimes I hated that I was always so snippy.

He slashed at the other sleeve of my coat. “Got a mouth on you, don’t you?”

His stupid little game continued as I tried my best to keep my mouth shut. But it seemed like no matter what I did, he was slashing at my clothing. There was no sign of sexual assault on the victims, but did he do this to all of them? Somehow, I couldn’t seem to remember anything about this unsub.

My knees shook as fear began to take over my body. What would happen when he shredded my clothing to the point that there was nothing left of them? Would he go to my skin next? One of the victims was all slashed up, I think. I shook my head, trying to keep m mind clear. I needed to be safe long enough for someone to find me.

A hand around my neck made me look up and realize the unsub was behind me now, holding the knife to my neck. My eyes fell to a person standing at the base of the stairs: Spencer Reid. My heart filled with joy. Thank god for Spencer and his big brain.

“Put the gun down or I’ll kill her,” the unsub said, pressing the knife deeper into my throat.

I winced, but at the misgendering, not the knife.

“He’s a he,” Spencer replied, holding his gun in the same position as he was five seconds ago.

“I said, put the damn gun away!”

The knife bit my skin, causing me to cry out. This made Spencer put his gun away.

“All right, all right, look. The gun’s away. It’s away. Let him go.”

“I’m not letting her go. People like her need to be fixed. They’re mentally ill.”

My stomach tightened at the midgenderment. It sucked because he was going to tell Spencer my secret. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out everything that was happening. Things would be okay. They had to be okay. I had to believe that. I had to believe that I’d make it out of here. I prayed Spencer wouldn’t tell the rest of the team my secret.

All I ever wanted was to be seen as a real boy...

The next thing I knew, my hands were being untied and there was a slight ringing in my ears. I looked down next to me to see the unsub, dead. Spencer must have been able to convince him to get far enough away from me for him to draw his gun and shoot the guy before either one of us got stabbed.

“Y/N, are you all right?” I nodded, and Spencer pulled me into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay. We’ll get you new clothing. Do you want to come to my house?”

I guess it was obvious to Spencer that I didn’t want to be alone. I nodded silently and he led me out to his car. “We’ll come back for yours later,” he promised me.

At this point, I didn’t really care. My head hurt from being knocked out, and my chest was aching all over again.

Our car ride was mostly silent, but Spencer spoke up. “How did you know it was him?”

“The gate,” I replied. “Something about the gates never lined up in my head. But then it reminded me of why he always kept the eyes open. They were like portals. To what, I’m not sure...”

Spencer nodded and hesitated before speaking again. “You’re binding unsafely...”

I didn’t know what he was talking about until i looked down. My shirt was shredded, and it was easy to see the ACE bandages that was supposed to be hidden. I cursed myself, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Please don’t tell anyone, Spence. I don’t want them to know I-I didn’t want anyone to know...”

“Is that why this case bothered you so much?”

I didn’t say anything, but my silence was probably the clearest answer. Spencer didn’t say anything else until we got to his house. He led me inside and sat me down on the couch.

“I can grab you some clothing to borrow for tonight, but I need you to take that bandage off. You’re going to ruin your changes for top surgery. It can seriously hurt you. it can crack or break ribs and-”

“I know, Spencer,” I said softly. “But I can’t. I’m scared...”

“My shirt’s will be big enough on you. I promise. And if you want, I’ll stay in my room all night so I won’t see you without it on. You...” He stopped a moment. He closed his eyes for a second before looking at me again. “You can borrow one of my old binders tomorrow. It may not fit perfectly, but it’s so much better than that bandage.” Spencer sat next to me on the couch.

I couldn’t believe my ears. Spencer....Spencer had just come out to me as trans. I couldn’t believe it. He was trans this whole time too? My emotions welled up in my chest, and I felt like crying all over again.

“I love you,” I blurted out. Immediately, I felt myself blush, and I regretted my words.

Spencer only smiled at me. “I love you; I always have.”

I looked down at my lap, feeling a tear drip down my cheek. “Spence, I’m scared... I-I love you. But I’m so scared...”

“Of what?”

“Of what the team will say. That...that you’ll hate me for being trans...”

“Y/N, I can’t hate you for being trans when I’m trans myself.” Spencer took my hands in his. “If you want to leave the confessions alone for tonight, I understand. You’ve been though a lot. We can talk more in the morning when you have a clearer mind. Just promise me you’ll take that ACE bandage off.”

“I promise,” I said quietly.

Spencer stood and pressed a light kiss onto my forehead. “Thank you. Now let me go grab you those clothing so you can turn in for the night. I’ll be here if you need anything at all.” He got up and began to walk down the hallway to his bedroom.

“Spencer?” I called out.

He stopped and looked back at me from the doorway. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#spencer reid #x male reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x male reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x trans male #x trans reader #x trans male reader #trans spencer reid

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slashscowboyboots · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Taco Truck: Ice Cream Dreamboat (Part 1)

(all photo credit goes to owners)

I know it’s only been months, but it feels like years since I’ve shared a fic! This is a continuation of @no-stone-no-bone‘s awesome fic Duff’s Doughnuts (link here). I agree with Skyler, I’d love to see other writers write about the different food trucks and make this a series. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but as I am physically incapable of writing short fics, this is a two-parter. Buckle in!

Tag list: @izzysdenimjacket @no-stone-no-bone @sexcoffeeandrockandroll @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands @smokeandmirrorz @sodalitefully @roger-taylors-car @harley-m-rose if you’d like to be tagged let me know, we all know how wonderful the tags work though

Warnings: language, sibling promiscuity, lonely cooking, terminal embarrassment, Axl and Tracii are Axl and Tracii

Thunk thunk thunk.

It was another scorcher inside your food truck, the vicious heat wafting off the griddle pummeling your face as you deftly raked your spatula through a pile of crisping beef tips, then piled them into a fluffy shell, handing it off for your sister Skyler to kiss with your award-winning cilantro lime crema and hand out to the customer.

You couldn’t resist moving up to the open side to watch the patron, a long-haired man wearing a nose chain with “Endless Burgers” stitched on his shirt, take a bite of your creation, then bend at the knees from ecstasy and dig a ten dollar bill from his pocket, stuffing it in your tip jar.

It has been gangbusters during the lunch rush in The Circle, the informal name given to the parking lot of ornery hooligans who fed the masses during the day and lingered behind late in the evening for a bit of recreational hell-raising.

There was a plethora of culinary delights scattered around you, including Duff’s Doughnuts, Tracii and Phil’s Sno-Cones, Stoney & Cready’s Homewrecker Corndogs, and Jon and Richie’s Jersey Essentials (you never really knew what they were selling, apart from Aqua Net and the occasional cheesesteak, but after they began offering rippers-deep fried hot dogs-Skyler made frequent trips over to ask Richie if she could eat his weenie). And from what you heard, they all knew how to throw down at night.

You never stayed to find out, though. Your shyness forced you to fire up Helen the Happy Taco truck and drive home, leaving Skyler behind to do God-knows-what to who-knows-what, and you arrived in the mornings to find her either helping Kelly from Nickels’ BBQ feed his pink-painted porcine smoker, both of them covered in hickeys, or nearly trading blows with the loudmouth redhead who ran the ice cream truck.

Today, however, you’d found her with someone new. When you pulled into the lot, you saw her with her arms wrapped around a guy with long hair wearing a flannel shirt and shorts, gazing raptly into his piercing blue eyes. “Bye, Ed,” she murmured, pecking a kiss on his mouth.

“Who was that?” you asked, your eyebrows shooting skywards.

“Produce man,” she answered quickly.

“Were you getting us a good deal?’

“You know it.”

You peeled your gloves off and wiped your sweating face with a paper towel, trying to blot off as much grease as possible. “I’m taking a break. I need some ice cream.”

“I got you a frozen lemonade on my break. It’s gonna taste like shit when you drink it with that ice cream.”

“I don’t care.”

“Punch that dick Axl in the face while you’re over there. He’s on my last fucking nerve.”

You trudged down to “Axl and Izzy’s Frozen Delights,” eager to leave the brutal swelter inside your truck. Standing in front of their window, you bent backwards and cracked your aching back, then a raspy voice asked, “Can I help you?”

You looked up into the most beautiful doe eyes you’d ever seen, hazel verging on gold in the afternoon sunlight, belonging to a guy with messy brown hair tied back with a bandanna, and suddenly your feet didn’t hurt anymore. “Hi,” you said faintly.

“Hey,” he replied, smiling at you, and you felt your breath leave you. “I’m Izzy, who might you be?”

“Y/N.”

“What can I get for you?”

Your brain instantly forgot how to make words. “Cone,” you muttered.

His smile grew even bigger. “What do you want in your cone?”

“Ice cream.”

He chuckled softly. “What kind?”

“I don’t know.”

Those gorgeous eyes were full of merriment, crinkling at the corners. “You don’t know?”

“No.” Get ahold of yourself, you’re sounding like a moron. “Uh, chocolate?”

“Sure. I mean, as long as you’re sure about that.” He winked at you, then turned to the freezer case behind him, and you got an exquisite view of his perfect ass, your mouth open and your breath coming in gasps, then he turned around and grinned, catching you mid-gawk, and you immediately wanted the earth to swallow you up.

“Thank you,” you blurted when he handed you your cone, then you turned to leave.

“Uh, Y/N?”

“Uh huh?” You couldn’t believe he was going to prolong putting up with your awkward ass.

“Aren’t you going to pay me?”

“Oh,” you said, humiliation bringing a knot to your throat, and you handed him a crumpled pile of bills and scuttled away before you could cry.

“Sis, you mind if I head out a little early?” you asked. “I’ve got a headache and I want to go home.”

“Sure. I think we’re done for today. You sure you’re okay?”

You hadn’t said a word all afternoon, just cooked and sweated and tried not to think about what a failure you were. This was why you didn’t stick around at night, even though you longed to, to laugh and have fun with all the crazy characters around you. Because you’d fuck it up if you did.

Why wasn’t I born normal? you thought bitterly. Why am I the disaster in the family?

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I’m fine.”

That’s why your tacos were so delicious. Because you were such a loser, you stayed home and perfected them instead of going out and having a life. With no demands on your personal time, you discovered that lime made your chicken taco sing, while a little tomato sauce was the secret to juicier ground beef.

Your loneliness was the key to Happy Taco’s success.

And you’d give everything you knew away just to be cool for five minutes.

“OPEN UP!!” a male voice hollered. Bam! Bam! Bam! “Little pig, little pig, let me in!”

Skyler dropped the hatch. “Tracii! Ferfucksakes! We just got here!”

Tracii grinned under his bandanna. “I wanna eat your taco.”

“It is an honor and a privilege to serve you a Happy Taco,” she answered, leaning on the counter and linking her fingers. “However, we haven’t got anything set up and the only kind we can get you is our el pastor.”

“Okay,” he said, “gimme two,” and Skyler nodded to you.

You sliced the meat off the trompo, carefully evening out the sides, all the while reliving the embarrassment of the previous afternoon in your head. Maybe you could drive Helen down to Baja California and start life anew, under a different name.

“Hey!” Tracii yelped, his eyes on you. “I know you! You’re the one Izzy was talking about last night,” and your knife nearly stabbed the metal pole holding up the pork and pineapple mass.

“Yeah,” he smiled lazily, “you are a looker, aren’t you? How come you don’t party with us? Izz said you seemed kinda shy.”

With your eyes wide and heart hammering, you handed the tacos to Skyler, whose mouth was hanging open in shock.

Before she could say anything, Tracii handed her his money and sauntered off, orgasmically moaning as he chewed, and Axl stepped up to the window.

“The fuck you want?” Skyler snapped. “”It’s too early in the day for you to pick a fight, asshole.”

“I’m not here to fight,” he growled, slamming down a wad of dollars. “This is from Izzy. For her ice cream,” and he jutted his chin towards you. “He says you eat for free at our truck. The bo-both of you,” he gritted, the agony of that idea etching deeply on his face.

“Thank you,” you smiled in surprise.

His eyes met yours, waving off your delight. “Yeah, he’ll be down later.”

“Yes, thank you, Axl,” Skyler said. “May we offer you an el pastor taco?”

“No,” he said, already retreating. “Pork gives me the shits.”

Izzy did come by later, just in time for your sister to run off on her break.

“Hi, Izzy,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Hey,” he smiled, looking delicious in his sunglasses. “So what kind of tacos do you have?”

You recited the list. “El pastor, carnitas, beef tips, seasoned ground beef, chicken, shrimp, and uh, lengua.”

“What’s that?”

“Uh, tongue.”

He pulled a face and stuck out his tongue, and you giggled, your shyness melting away at his goofiness. “No, no, it’s really good. Imagine the most tender, flavorful pot roast. Everyone always orders seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass on the tongue, that one anyways, and have one shrimp and one chicken. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Uh, you and Axl, you eat for free here too. Thank you, by the way, that’s very generous.”

He grinned wider, and you noticed he’d hadn’t stopped smiling at you since he showed up. “Don’t mention it.”

You opened the shrimp and chicken containers, then threw the meat down on the griddle and moved it around, forcing yourself to focus on sauteing and not burning down the fucking truck because Izzy was outside.

He peeked in the window, looking around the interior of the truck. “So how long have you been cooking?”

“Oh, since I was small. I was at a stove before I could see over it. These are all my grandmother's recipes.” You scooped the fillings into their shells, then grabbed the crema.

“Hey, I only ordered two,” Izzy protested when you handed him his tacos in a cardboard to-go basket.

“One of the chicken ones is Axl’s. Consider it a peace offering.”

“Thank you. Hey, Y/N, I was wondering if-”

“Hey, Y/N, I was wondering if I could get some fucking service around here,” a mullet-sporting, Confederate flag t-shirt wearing asshole growled, and Izzy waved, then walked away.

He returned the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day, working his way through your menu and bringing you a different-flavored milkshake each time. He loved all of the tacos he tried, even daring to sample the beef tongue, then immediately ordered another one.

“Told you,” you grinned.

He always made conversation with you while you cooked, his eyes locked on yours as he ate, but every time he finished, there was always a line to tend to, and Skyler made herself scarce as soon as she spotted him. You never returned to his truck for ice cream, and spent your downtime cleaning the flattop, lighting out as soon as you turned over the CLOSED sign.

“You know,” your sister said to you as you turned the key in the ignition, “if you stayed, you’d probably hook up with Izzy.”

“No,” you said sadly, “I’m a hot mess. I’d say something stupid and he’d run away.”

“Can’t talk with his tongue in your mouth,” she teased, “or some other part.”

“SKYLER!” you shrieked as she cackled, then you sighed and leaned your head against the steering wheel. “I’m not like you.”

“You don’t have to be,” she said, leaning over and stroking your hair. “Just give him a chance.”

“I can’t stay here and have Helen be a-a sin wagon.”

“It’s not like we have orgies!” Skyler laughed. “At least your man doesn't. He plays guitar and Axl sings, when he’s not being a dumbass.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And then Izzy sings, and Kelly gives me The Look and……”

“Or the produce man shows up.”

“Or Eddie the produce man shows up.” She gave you a slight smile. “C’mon, Sis, stay. He likes you.”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“Then get to know him. Axl says he’s pining.”

You looked at her in surprise. “When did you talk to Axl?”

“When he told me that chicken taco you gave him was the best thing he’s ever had.”

You smiled at his praise, drumming your fingertips on the steering wheel. “Maybe I’ll stay sometime.”

“Pining,” Skyler said, then hopped off the truck.

#izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses fanfic

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concussed-to-pieces · 5 years ago

Text

Stay Safe Part Nine: Swan Song

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Heh. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @huliabitch @toxiicpop @renegademustelid @helplessly-nonstop @culturalrebel @sinnamon-bunn @hoodedbirdie @literal-fand0m-trash @thyestean-feast @fioccodineveautunnale @kateb013 @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @oh-no-who-am-i @crownofmanga @talesfromtheguild @robbinholland @kylolover96 @lukesrighthand @lackofhonor @lightan117 @misssilencewritewell

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Part Four: Reaching Out

Part Five: Dark Past

Part Six: Go Alone

Part Seven: Like A Ghost

Part Eight: Savior At High Noon

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains character death and depictions of vomit/bile. Stay safe!]

While the Armorer spoke quietly with the Mandalorian at length and continued to smelt the reclaimed armor down, you remained out in the hallway with the IG unit to scan for threats. You couldn't bring yourself to go into the forge and just sit quietly like Karga and Cara, your whole body still buzzing with the vestiges of the huge rush of adrenaline you had received earlier.

The robot's many sets of eyes swiveled back and forth, silently observing the tunnel in front of you. It also seemed to take note of your fidgeting. "Never fear. I am programmed to protect." The droid assured you.

"As comforting as that is…" you grimaced, obsessively checking your blaster over yet again. "I'd feel much better if we didn't have to fight. Or if we had decent cover. I never know what will explode." An explosion echoed faintly down the tunnel as if in response to your words and you went rigid. You gripped the blaster even tighter, feeling the stock dig into your palm.

"I would advise not shooting at the inanimate objects to avoid possible damage."

"Wonderful." You muttered, a reluctant grin making its way onto your face. "This is why I prefer my knife."

"If you would like to attempt such an inadvisable tactic, I am unable to stop you." The droid commented.

"No, no no. I promise I won't be that dumb." Your laugh was too high, choking off in your throat when you caught sight of several headlamps down the tunnel.

"Engaging the enemy." IG-11 announced, the spindly ex-bounty hunter droid striding forward into the spillway with purpose.

"IG, wait!" You protested. "How am I supposed to-"

"Do not worry about hitting me. Aim for them." The robot interrupted you calmly.

"Aim for them, no shit!"

You knelt beside one of the many, possibly-explosive crates, tucking the stock of your rifle up against your shoulder. You then used the flat surface to steady the gun as best as you could, gritting your teeth probably a bit too hard.

IG-11 was a force to be reckoned with. The droid barely even needed you, only once caught off-guard by one of the eight troopers that bore down on it like an unstoppable (but ultimately doomed) wave.

One well-placed shot from you blew that particular stormtrooper's elbow out, making him scream in agony. You froze at the sound, your body stiffening before you could fight it off. How many men had you killed today? You had pushed it down, shoved the thought away, but-

IG-11 spiraled and struck with terrifying accuracy, it's blaster searing a hole in the side of the last trooper's helmet. "You have been protected." The droid droned quietly. It went on to ask, "Were you harmed?"

"No, n-no, I'm...I'm fine." You breathed. "Sorry, I get all…"

"You did well. It is advisable to use cover at any and all opportunities." IG-11 mused sagely.

"No kidding."

A nerve-wracking five minutes later the Mandalorian finally walked back out of the forge area, Dune and Karga close behind. "We push forward." The armored man said, answering your unspoken question. "We'll hit the river, and it'll take us to the flats. All we can do now is hope that the Imps won't head us off."

Karga passed a large, square object off to IG-11 while the Mandalorian spoke. The boosters on the bottom of it seemed to indicate that it was a portable jet pack of some kind. You also saw a shiny new addition to the Mandalorian's pauldron.

"What's…?" You trailed off, gesturing at the insignia that had been welded seamlessly to his armor. It looked like a stylized mudhorn, which, when you thought about it, suited him immensely.

"My signet. I...I'm considered a clan now." The Mandalorian hesitated, his hand finding the child's in their little bundle of robes. "I have a Foundling in my care." His voice was warm, an almost incredulous wonder shining through his words. "She used...she used some of your beskar to make it. The ingot that I took from you, I-I asked her to use it," he continued, rubbing the back of his neck. "I hope that's--i-is that alright? I'll compen-"

"It's definitely alright." You interrupted him, nodding rapidly and certain that you were smiling like an idiot. "Don't even worry about that. Obviously, you guys can put it to better use than I ever could."

"Thank you." The Mandalorian said sincerely.

Greef suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable. "How did you get ahold of that ingot of beskar, anyhow?" He asked narrowly.

"I was paid with it when I got hired to clean his ship." You explained. "But I guess the person that hired me was actually only interested in having me jimmy the boarding ramp open for them, because as soon as I got it open I was clocked with the ingot. They ended up leaving it with me, though. Maybe they didn't know what it was worth?"

The Mandalorian turned towards Karga and you could feel him glaring, while Greef simply hummed and looked anywhere but the glowering man. "Karga, did you-?"

"Whatever it is, the answer is no! But I can't take responsibility for the actions of every hunter under me." The older man protested, waving his hands. "You know the rules, Mando, no questions asked."

"You were the only other person who got paid in beskar, Karga." The Mandalorian growled. "If I find out that it was one of-"

"We don't have time for you guys to have a beskar-based pissing match." Dune interjected, "we have to keep moving, or we're Imp chow. Squash your shit now or deal with it later."

"I apologize for anything my associates may have done to you that, er, caused you inadvertent discomfort." Karga addressed you hurriedly.

"Uh, I...forgive...you?" You replied, more than a little confused.

"There, you see Mando? No issues here!" The Guild leader said brightly. The Mandalorian shook his head, growling something under his breath and then stalking off in the opposite direction.

...

The rickety old lava skiff, while originally half-welded to the dock, didn't stay stuck too long in the wake of Cara's heavy blaster fire. Karga quickly grabbed the side of the craft, steadying it before it could drift away from the dock.

"Watch your feet, it's molten lava." IG-11 warned. When you turned to give the robot an incredulous look, you saw the Mandalorian and Cara doing exactly the same thing. Your deadpan stare cracked a little and you were caught off-guard by a giggling fit, clumsily stumbling over the lip of the boat as the armored man followed after you.

"Fucking droids." The Mandalorian groaned while shaking his head, though he sounded less irritated and more amused.

The droid that normally piloted the skiff appeared to be out of commission, but it was no matter. Even though the lava moved slowly, it moved enough to carry the boat along with it.

The child was still limp in Cara's arms, the former dropship trooper absently rocking them back and forth. Weariness dragged at you as well, grey static slowly encroaching upon the corners of your eyes, but you did your best to push it away for the time being. You weren't sure how much longer you could get away with that, though. Stars, once this was over you would sleep for a thousand years.

A sudden crackling noise behind you made everybody whirl, respective blasters and knives brandished. But it was just the ferry droid, emerging from the ashen lava that had entombed it. It held a punting pole in its hands and began to beep, sounding almost inquisitive.

The Mandalorian finally muttered, "I don't suppose anybody here speaks droid," his tone one of long suffering.

IG-11 helpfully supplied, "I believe he is asking where we would like to go."

"Downriver. To the lava flat." Karga ordered. The droid gave a chirp of confirmation and jabbed its pole into the lava, propelling the boat onwards at a much less leisurely pace.

The Mandalorian sat down heavily beside you after a moment, his helmet in his hands. "I can't believe you came back." He mumbled. "I didn't think...I figured you wouldn't. Thought I did a pretty good job at ruining everything."

"I can't believe I did either, honestly." You answered him, wincing when you realized how bad that sounded. "Wait, no, I uh...I just mean I didn't really know what was going on. I followed the noise and found IG-11."

"So, nothing new." The Mandalorian replied, his voice wry. Then, he murmured, "my little mudhorn."

You shot him a confused glance from beneath your lashes, but for all you could tell he was staring at the floor of the boat. Your eyes shifted to the silvery signet on his pauldron, taking in the vicious contours of the mudhorn's silhouette. I'm considered a clan now.

"What will you do after we take care of this?" Your words were audacious in their optimism and you knew it. He knew it too, if his snort was anything to go by, but he humored you.

"I have to find the kid's people. I can't train him, he's...well, he's not really the Mando type. But he's a Foundling in my care, so I'm to act as his father until I can either return him to his people or...or until he comes of age." The Mandalorian heaved a sigh. "And seeing as he's fifty now, I don't think him coming of age is something that'll happen in my lifetime." His hand sought yours out on the bench seat after a moment. "If you...I mean, I know that...uh, the kid likes you. So if you wanted, I'd...I'd consider…" He trailed off, squeezing your wrist gently.

You opened your mouth to stammer something and then Greef inadvertently cut you off with an excited, "That's it! We're free!" The older man pointed ahead, indicating the daylight coming into view in the distance. You couldn't blame him for being relieved, really. This underground canal was stifling.

But the Mandalorian was already shaking his head, fingers tapping at the button pad on his gauntlet. "No. No, we're not." He said bitterly, getting to his feet. "Stormtroopers. They're flanking the mouth of the tunnel. It looks like an entire platoon." Your heart sank at his words. "They must know we're coming."

His shoulders slumped. You could feel the exhaustion radiating off of him. He had almost died, only for this to happen?

Cara, meanwhile, leaped into action. "Stop the boat." She demanded of the ferry droid, which just continued to chirp merrily to itself. "Hey, droid, I said stop the boat!" She barked, storming towards the robot. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

The droid carried on punting the boat forward and Cara grimaced, jamming her blaster into the vacant space between the droid's dome and body. One quick trigger pull sent the droid's head flying off with a loud crack!, the dome hitting the lava and immediately beginning to melt. The child started awake at the noise, tiny fists waving wildly in the air.

The boat continued to roll downstream, slowly but surely carried by the flow's current. "We're still moving." Greef pointed out, his tone laden with dread.

Dune swore under her breath, turning to face the rest of the group. "Looks like we fight."

The Mandalorian scoffed, "There are too many." His hand absently tapped the side of his helmet and you read his fingers: enemy ahead, five, five, five, so at least fifteen.

At least. Your heart threatened to pound out of your chest. It had been one thing when you were running along pell-mell with no actual thought put into your actions, but now-

"Well then what do you suggest, because I can't surrender." Cara snapped, cringing when the kid started to whimper.

IG-11 suddenly spoke up. "They will not be satisfied with anything less than the child. This is unacceptable." It rose to its full height, proclaiming, "I will eliminate the enemy, and you will escape."

"You don't have that kind of firepower, pal." The Mandalorian retorted. "You wouldn't even get to daylight."

The droid leveled him with a stare. "That is not my objective."

"We're getting close." Dune hauled you to your feet. "Saddle up." You obliged wordlessly, waiting until she turned away before you allowed yourself to grimace in pain. Maker, your side hurt.

"I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer." The IG said calmly as you and Cara maneuvered around it and the Mandalorian to prepare what limited defenses you could muster. "If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct."

"What're you talking about?" The Mandalorian growled impatiently.

"I'm not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed."

"Are we gonna' keep talking or are we gonna' get out of here?" Greef enquired, waving a hand at the molten riverbank.

"I can no longer carry this for you." The droid murmured, pressing the jet pack into the Mandalorian's unwilling grasp. "Nor can I watch over the child."

"Wait." The armor-wearing man sounded like he was having trouble breathing. "You can't self-destruct. Your base command is to watch the child." Was he...was he arguing with the droid? "That supersedes your manufacturer's protocol, right?" He reasoned desperately, his head tilted up to look at the spindly droid. When the robot didn't answer immediately, he pressed, "Right?"

"This is correct." IG-11 allowed.

He was arguing. With a droid. Stars, you saw something new every day. "Good. Now grab a blaster and help us shoot our way out." The Mandalorian ordered curtly, turning to check over his own weaponry.

"Victory through combat is impossible. We will be captured. The child will be lost." You watched the armored man's shoulders slump even lower beneath his pauldrons and cape, like an immense weight was pressing down on him. "Sadly, there is no scenario where the child is saved in which I survive." The droid carried on relentlessly. You abruptly understood what it was saying, and despite your best efforts you felt tears sting your eyes. First Kuiil, now this?

"Listen, you're not going anywhere." The Mandalorian said sharply. "We need you. Let's just come up with a-"

"Please tell me the child will be safe in your care." The IG unit requested. "If you do so, I can default to my secondary command."

"But…" the beskar-wearing man's voice faded to a hoarse whisper, "you'll be destroyed."

"And you will live, and I will have served my purpose."

"No, we need you."

"There is nothing to be sad about. I have never been alive." The droid said pragmatically.

"I'm not sad." The armored man denied gruffly. He was lying and everyone knew it. You could hear the tremor in his words.

"Yes you are. I'm a nurse droid. I've analyzed your voice." IG-11 reached out those metal fingers, gently running them over the baby's ear. Then, without further ado, the droid hoisted a leg over the side of the boat.

"IG-!" Karga began to protest, watching the droid sink into the lava. Flames licked upwards from the ex-bounty hunter's knee gaskets, but it doggedly headed for the light at the end of the tunnel.

The Mandalorian stood still as a statue, just letting the droid go. You ended up burying your face in your hands, unwilling and mentally unable to observe what would happen.

The ringing impact of beskar suddenly broke the silence and the Mandalorian began to sing, his words wrapped in a deep, mournful tone that sounded like it came from the center of his being. "Motir ca'tra nau tracinya," His voice faltered. "Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a! Cuun hett su!"

The droid's self-destructive explosion rocked the tunnel and you heard the Mandalorian's breath hitch, the noise sharp and pained even through the modulator.

He then inhaled deeply, the words reverberating off the sides of the tunnel when he roared, "Cuun hett su!" and slammed his gauntlet against his breastplate once more.

The skiff slowly slipped through the archway and out into the smokey sunlight. Fifteen broken stormtroopers littered the black ground around the mouth of the canal, none left alive in the wake of IG-11's sacrifice. You scrubbed at your face in irritation, choking back your tears. There will be time later, you promised yourself, time for Kuiil and the IG. Time to mourn them properly. You weren't permitted such time now and you knew it. People needed you, they needed--

Without warning, that ship you had seen earlier buzzed by overhead, its powerful laser cannons sending chunks of half-coagulated lava flying into the air on either side of the canal.

"Moff Gideon!" Dune shouted, the Bren blaster whirring to life. The TIE fighter's engines screamed and whined, the craft circling back around. A line of ground to the left of the skiff exploded, green lasers punching through the cooled lava.

"He missed!" Greef sounded absolutely thrilled.

"He won't next time." The Mandalorian replied grimly, loading a fresh canister into his heavy blaster.

"Hey, let's get the baby to do the magic hand thing!" Karga suggested, wiggling his fingers at the child. "C'mon baby, do the magic hand thing." The child stared up at him, waving their hand uncertainly. Greef sighed, "I'm out of ideas."

"I'm not." The Mandalorian snapped. He reached for the jet pack and you tugged his cape out of the way so he could attach it to his backplate. He pressed his forehead against your own briefly before he tapped at his gauntlet keypad, igniting the boosters for the pack.

"Here he comes!" Cara yelled, bracing herself back against one of the seats while her blaster roared away. Whoever Gideon was, he appeared to be coming straight for the boat. The fighter wasn't slowing one iota.

Right as you saw the TIE fighter's cannons begin to light up in preparation to fire, the Mandalorian punched the controls on his jet pack. The armored man hurtled into the sky, easily clearing the TIE fighter and then shooting his grappling line at the back of the ship.

Gideon took off with him in tow and Karga laughed incredulously, "you've got to be kidding me! That was your plan? Mando, you're a maniac!" He then grabbed onto the cooled lava wall that rose on the right side of the boat, fumbling his way up onto the relatively-sturdy riverbank with a muffled grunt of exertion. "Alright trooper, you're next." The older man said, extending a hand to help haul Cara out of the boat.

She too managed to get to solid ground, and she carefully sat the bundled child down for a moment before turning back to you. Cara held out her hand and Greef held out his. "C'mon rookie, get up here." She said with a tired grin. "We need good seats to watch your Mandalorian work his magic, right?"

Your laugh caught in your throat, almost a sob, and you reached to clasp their hands. But then your breathing abruptly hitched as, in reply to the first tugs of the two individuals above you, the wound on your side made itself felt with a vengeance. You panted, half-blinded by the sudden pain and knowing that you had gone full dead-weight.

"Use your legs rookie, c'mon!" Cara complained, planting herself and slapping her other hand closed around your upper arm to help her leverage. You gritted your teeth and forced your body to cooperate in a last ditch effort to get you up onto the river banking. Despite that, you were still all but dragged the rest of the way, Dune and Karga barely managing to muscle you to safety. "Look at him go!" Cara exclaimed, gesturing wildly at the sky.

As you tipped your head back to watch the TIE fighter skitter and weave through the air, the ground suddenly felt like it was tilting under your feet. Your ears started to ring and your knees trembled unsteadily, threatening to give out beneath you any second now while the static at the edges of your vision that you had been keeping at bay crept steadily in from the sides.

You clumsily took hold of Karga's shoulder, the older man giving you a confused look. "I...I don't feel so good." You stammered.

Cara turned to you, her mouth moving and her expression changing to one of concern, but you couldn't hear her at all over the ringing in your ears.

She grabbed your cloak, yanking it up off your body as you sagged against Greef. "Sorry," you breathed, knowing that she must have spotted the blaster wound on your side. Your own voice sounded so loud to you. Your bloodied fingers found her gorget, floundering desperately for a handhold. "Take care...of the k-kid-" you whispered, all of your adrenaline finally spent.

You had been running on fumes for the last few minutes. You weren't sure how much blood you had lost, all you knew is that you had been bleeding since getting clipped on the battlefield. It hadn't hurt when you were moving or distracted, the urgency of your situation enabling you to draw on your body's ability to push through the predicament. But now, it seemed that your luck had run out.

Your eyes felt too heavy. You needed sleep. How long had it been since you rested? You deserved a rest. A rest sounded phenomenal.

"...shot, give--osi'kyr, let me see them!" That was the Mandalorian. He sounded terrified. You couldn't remember ever hearing his voice crack like that. What was wrong? When had he landed again? What happened to Gideon?

"S'wrong?" You slurred. You appeared to be laying down. Possibly. Up and down were a little confused at the moment.

"Focus on me, please, you have to stay awake-" He sounded so sad.

"Going into shock--must have been when-" Cara's voice was faint and wavering, as if she was underwater.

"Sweetheart, cyar'ika, please, please--" His helmet pressed to your forehead and you heard his breath rattle. No, that couldn't be right, the bacta spray should have fixed that. Was it your breathing that sounded that bad?

You dimly felt dried blood flaking off of your hands as you moved your fingers. "Want to sleep. S'dark." You mumbled.

"Don't you dare!" His modulated voice cut through the gray haze rudely, too loud and bright. "You're not going to sleep!"

"F-five minutes." You bargained, grimacing when his helmet banged into your forehead.

"You stay awake, you hear me?! I'm not letting you do this! Not after everything we've been through!"

"Never even...got to…" Your head felt as if it was stuffed with clouds, words trickling out of your brain and vanishing like water in the sand. "'Pologize…" He had your hand in his own now, leather rubbing feverishly over your knuckles. "Got so mad…"

"You're not the one who needed to apologize, dammit. I...I shouldn't have tried to leave you behind." His voice broke. "I-I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, I-" Blood was roaring in your ears, drowning out anything else the armored man might be saying. Your fingers were going numb. Flickers of conversation reached you, battling against the roar.

"-them still, Karga, he's got to close this, stop the bleeding--"

"-idea, but make sure it holds until we get back to town--"

"I love you, I'm so sorry, this will hurt--"

Pain stabbed through your body, startling a ragged exhale out of you. Something was burning. It smelled disgusting and you retched without meaning to, bile foaming at your lips. You wondered absently if that was the smell he had been talking about when he had been poisoned, death-rot...

Metal was pressing against your forehead and a blinding heat seared at the wound on your side, the two sensations warring for your attention. Vomit surged up your throat, making you gag again.

This is it, you realized vaguely. This is how I die. Huh. The notion was not nearly as repulsive as you had expected. Dying sounded halfway appealing. You could rest then.

"Stay awake, please stay awake-"

"M' here. M'wake." You assured whoever it was, your hand weakly patting at theirs. "So tired...can I sleep soon? Pl-ease?"

"Not now, not now, you h-have to stay awake." His voice was trembling. "The kid needs you, dammit."

"Need you to--to take the kid and run." You urged, confidently stating, "I'll hol' 'em off so y' can escape. They're comin' in warm an' I'm comin' in cold." You struggled to grab your blaster, but your arms refused to cooperate. "Did y' turn up the gravity? Can't...can't move…hurts..." The tears wouldn't stop rolling down your cheeks in a torrent. You weren't even sure why you were crying.

"Stay awake. Just like on Sorgan. All I need is a f-few more minutes, okay? Remember?" Your body tilted crazily, someone's arms fumbling beneath your shoulders and knees to hoist you off the ground.

"Mm, I can do that. Do whatever y' want." You mumbled. The darkness closed in around you, a sweltering maw that slowly drew you deeper and deeper into its grasp. "It's...it's so dark. M' scared." You admitted, your numbed fingers petting the hand that rested on your arm.

"I'm right here with you." He assured. "I'm not going anywhere. Sing that song, please? The one you sing to the kid. The...the lullaby."

Your brow furrowed with effort and you opened your mouth, your voice faint and pitchy in the blackness. "Stars fading, but I linger on...dear...still craving…"

The words wouldn't stick. Your brain was drawing a blank. Why couldn't you remember the words?

You fell asleep.

...

You dreamed of wind whipping your face, steam that hissed and boiled on the lava flats, droplets trickling down from underneath a proud helmet to gather at the edge of his chin and drip onto your tunic.

You dreamed of drowning, thick liquid sliding over your head, enveloping you in its fetid grasp before your consciousness faded back out.

You dreamed of a mudhorn in beskar, the shimmering silver-clad beast guiding you through the black.

Eventually you spiraled downwards into a deeper sleep, and finally you dreamed of nothing at all.

Interlude

288 notes · View notes

anon-e-miss · 4 years ago

Text

Instransigence 9

There had been no movement on any of Mirage’s cameras, and Jazz could not decide if this was a positive or a negative. Perhaps it was a mix of both. Barricade would not be talking for a long time, if ever. In the mean time Jazz had questions he wanted answered. Nightstalker was dead, and the mnemosurgeons had not found much. The rusting processor of a dead mechanism was not a treasure trove that could be simply picked clean. It was generally only the last moments of a life that could be pulled out. All they had pulled out of Nightstalker was the thrill of the chase, and some deeply dark desires. There was no doubt in Jazz’s processor that Prowl’s attackers, at least that one, had intended on raping him before they killed him. He thought better of sharing that bit of information with Smokescreen.

He did not caution Smokescreen to watch his speed as they drove to the base in the early joors of the light-cycle. Jazz kept pace with his rookie, driving just a few kilometres over the speed limit. They did not come across any enforcers looking to fill their quota of tickets. Their number were probably in chaos. The Autobot Security Force had descended upon the Enforcer Command and were digging through every workstation and every vault in search of any evidence of a Decepticon infiltration. Ironhide would give his report to Prime and Prime would forward it to Jazz, and Jazz would pick it clean. That was not the only thing Jazz wanted to pick clean. He was certain there was something stashed in Prowl’s memory banks that could be of use. Likely many somethings, but with a recall like Prowl’s the small things and the subtle things could be easily... not so much forgotten as overlooked.

That would probably have to wait until Prowl was off the blockers. Jazz had an almost fond memory of Smokescreen. The dislocation had been an accident, just one of those things that happened during basic training. Though they had only been halfway through the second quartex of basic training, Jazz had already mentally tapped Smokescreen for Spec Ops during his observations. He had been there when an overly excited Tagonian had knocked a minibot recruit off the platform. Smokescreen had performed a wicked dive to catch him before he toppled off the edge. Jazz had been impressed by his moves. He had been less impressed by the Tagonian who had knocked Smokescreen and Volks both over the side as Smokescreen had been pulling the minibot up. One thing was for certain, that mech was not going near one of Jazz’s operations with a ten metre pole.

The dive had confirmed for Jazz that he had wanted Smokescreen for Spec Ops, and he had gone to see Smokescreen in the medbay only to find the young mech out of his Primus damned mind. Had his medic been any but Ratchet, Jazz would have been reasonable to accuse them of overdosing the Praxian, but it had been Ratchet had he had explained that Smokescreen systems were sensitive to blockers. More sensitive that Ratchet had expected, though Smokescreen had warned him. Jazz had stuck around with the young mech until he had been called away by Hound. By the time he had gotten back, Smokescreen had been picked up by the friend he had commed when he had been dosed out of his helm. Someone designated Ore... Not Ore, Jazz realized now. Origin. Prowl.

Smokescreen had not returned to training until his doorwing had fully healed, a full quartex. Though he had returned to the parade grounds with his unit he had only stayed long enough for Jazz to come and fetch him. When Jazz had taken him back to his office, he had realized quickly that Smokescreen had assumed he was in trouble. Completely by accident Jazz had discovered the identity of the base’s betting ring’s founder. In just one quartex it had taken off. New recruits and seasoned soldiers all enjoyed the underground pool, and recognizing the value of a little distraction, Jazz had left it be. With that discovery and with a look and Smokescreen’s grades, Jazz had adopted Smokescreen as his personal project, rather than shunting him off to one of his seasoned agents. The Praxian was a special talent. He would serve Spec Ops well with a little time and training, and Jazz would be sure he got both.

“He’s groggy,” Ratchet declared when the pair arrived and found the medic waiting. “And grumpy. He woke up in the dark-cycle with some pain so I gave him another small dose. You don’t burn through them as fast, Mechling.”

“No,” Smokescreen replied. “They hit Origin hard but he burns through them fast. They hit me hard too but then they keep me on my aft for mega-cycles. Can I sit with him?”

“Sure, Smokescreen. I’ll give you a few breams before I come in to do another exam.”

“Shouldn’t you recharge?” Smokescreen asked. The tone suggested to Jazz that this was a question Smokescreen had asked before, though not of this mech.

“You just fuss over your Origin,” Ratchet replied. “Go be a pain in his neck.”

Jazz chuckled as Smokescreen scampered off to Prowl’s room. Ratchet had not requested to see the energon he had brought. Maybe Ratchet did not actually care, but Jazz doubted it. Smokescreen had merely distracted him with that sassy observation. From the cant of his doorwings, the young mech was plenty pleased with himself. He definitely had the makings of an operative, though Jazz had somewhat more complex plans in mind for Smokescreen. His rookie was studying psychology at the Academy of Science and Tech here in Iacon. When he had finished his degree he would have a whole different perspective to their operations, to their enemies. He had a two more vorns yet of studying to go before he finished his Bachelor’s. Smokescreen had suggested he was interested in getting his Masters, even a Doctorate, if he could get the scholarships. There would be no need of that, not of the degree but of the scholarship. Jazz had tapped Optimus for a little bump to his department. Though he did not know it yet, Smokescreen’s education was now covered. Jazz had no doubt this expense would pay the Autobots rich dividends in the end.

“Ya didn’t comm Smokey,” Jazz said as he lingered with Ratchet as the medic polished a wrench.

“There was nothing to comm about,” Ratchet replied. “When I checked in on him he was online. He refused a blocker and I left him to stew. When I came back a joor later he took the blocker.”

“Don’t suppose he mentioned what he was stewin’ on?”

“No. I’m hoping he’s considering what I said about that mnemosurgeon. You’re probably hoping he was stewing on your investigation.”

“I’d take either,” Jazz replied. “Apart from the wiring, what’d that fragger hit?”

“Memory banks, the slash and smash has long healed,” Ratchet replied. “I don’t know what they were trying to accomplish. The base of the helm isn’t a conventional route for that surgery.”

“Wasn’t a surgery,” Jazz said. Ratchet stiffened and he slowly set the wrench down. There was fury in his optics.

“What did the mechling tell you?”

“His origin came home and claimed to be overcharged. He was stumblin’. Smokey mighta gone to his berth believin’ it but he saw the energon drippin’ down Prowl’s neck.”

“It would have been a sight,” Ratchet hissed. “He should have gone to the medicentre. He was stumbling because that wiring relates to his motor relays. If his self repair systems hadn’t grounded the wires, if they’d shorted, it would have been catastrophic.”

“Fatal?”

“Probably.”

“Don’t suppose ya told ‘m that.”

“We had a talk. I’d have had better luck trying to reason with a rock.”

“Smokey said Prowl told’m neither o’em behaved well that dark-cycle.”

“What do you think he meant by that?”

“Don’t know. Date gone wrong. Coulda been anythin’.”

“A date?”

“I told ya it wasn’t surgery.”

“Frag.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s worse, you know,” Ratchet said as he lifted his abandoned wrench back off the counter and set to polishing it again. “There’s no arguing the fragger had the best of intentions. It couldn’t be anything but straight up rape.”

“He told Smokey neither o’ them behaved well.”

“At least on some level he blames himself for it. The fact that he’s an enforcer...”

“Probably figures he shoulda been able to stop it,” Jazz guessed what Ratchet was thinking. He remembered what Smokescreen had said. Worrying what else the fragger had done to his origin. Smokescreen was still worrying. “Probably felt too embarrassed to sit down wit another enforcer to file a complaint.”

“Could it have been another enforcer?” Ratchet wondered out loud.

“That would fit. Smokey didn’t know the fragger’s designation. Don’t sound like he ever got serious wit anyone after his ‘genitor.”

“It’s been three vorns. He’s had three vorns to convince himself he had some part to play in what happened to him. Three vorns for it to fester. I doubt he’s going to give us a designation.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, ‘m thinkin’ the same thing.”

#intransigence #maccadams #anon-e-miss writes #tw mindrape #tf prowl #tf jazz #tf ratchet #tf smokescreen #victim blaming #ficlet

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enchantedlokii · 4 years ago

Text

Healing Takes Time

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: language

Chatacters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker

Mentioned: May Parker

@whumptober2020 Day Twenty-One: Infection

Sequel to Lost!

Tony woke up to the sound of whimpering and was confused at first, unsure of the noise. Then, as he became more alert, he remembered what had happened. Seven days ago, Peter has gone missing on his school trip. He had found him two days ago, and the boy had been taken into surgery immediately for compartment syndrome and severe osteomyelitis. While the former was fixed and his body was healing, the infection would take time to run its course and he was still at high risk for sepsis until the antibiotics they were giving him started to work.

Peter whimpered again in his sleep and Tony stood up, walking over to his bedside. May had left to return to New York the night before, her work not allowing her anymore days off, so he had promised to stay behind in Tennessee and watch over him until he was well enough to transfer. He knew that the boy would be better off at home with doctors who knew him, but they didn’t have much of a choice right now. With May’s permission, he had to make the decision to reveal his identity to the hospital so he would get proper treatment. He had made them sign off on it, of course, but they could never be sure that the law would be upheld.

“It’s okay, Kiddo,” he whispered, taking the boy’s hand and squeezing it. “You’re okay.”

He could feel the heat coming from Peter and knew he must be running a fever again. That was likely the cause of his discomfort, Tony guessed. The medicine he was on had helped keep it down for the most part, but it was early in the morning, and his last dose would be wearing off now.

Peter blinked up at him, his eyes only half-opened. “Hey, Buddy,” he said softly. “You’re running a fever again.”

“Ma’es sense,” Peter mumbled, struggling to try to push himself into a sitting position. He got halfway up before closing his eyes and flopping back down again with a huff that sounded like a mix of exhaustion and annoyance. “Don’ feel good, T’ny.”

“I know, Pete,” he said softly, squeezing his hand again. He looked up as he heard footsteps, relieved to see the nurse coming in. “He’s running a fever again.”

“This should help bring it down,” the nurse replied, walking over to the IV pole and changing the bag out and turning the drip up a bit. Once she was finished, she moved closer to Peter’s bed. “Peter?”

“Mhm?” Peter hummed, tilting his head to look up at her. “Yeah?”

“Do you want me to bring you a water and see if you can drink any?” she asked carefully. “You have plenty of fluids coming in right now, but it’s good to drink a little if you can.”

“Too ti’ed. Wanna sleep,” Peter mumbled.

“Okay,” she replied softly, glancing at Tony. “I’ll come check on him in an hour or so and see if his fever has gone down any. If he’s awake I’ll ask him again. If you need me, just press the call button.”

“I will, thank you.”

When Peter woke up again, his body was soaked with sweat. As gross as he felt, he knew that meant his fever had broke. He was a bit surprised that his head didn’t feel quite as fuzzy as before, but he noticed he could feel a slight pain in his leg. He guessed they had started to lower his pain medicine.

For a moment, Peter thought that he was alone. He was on his side, turned towards the side of his bed where May had been staying when she was there. He felt a hint of panic at the thought, trying to listen for a second heartbeat in the room but unable to get his senses to focus enough to do so. “Tony?” he called weakly, his voice shaking.

“I’m right here, Buddy.” Peter relaxed a bit at the voice. He heard footsteps and tilted his head as Tony came around to the other side of his bed. “Are you alright? Do I need to get the nurse?”

“Jus’ thought I was alone,” he admitted, giving him a weak smile. “I’m a’ight.”

Tony gave him a small smile and nodded, sitting down in the chair that was still pulled up to the side of his bed. “You look more awake,” he commented.

“Head’s not as fuzzy,” Peter told him. “‘S been fuzzy lately. You druggin’ me?” He gave a look that he hoped conveyed his joke, and he replaced it with a lopsided smile when Tony chuckled at him.

“Maybe I have,” he replied lightly. “Maybe you’re just going insane. Either sounds like a fair assumption in my opinion.”

“‘M not insane,” Peter mumbled, lowering his head to his pillow. “That’s you.”

“Hey now,” the man started, crossing his arms over his chest in mock offense. “I’m going to leave you here if you keep that up.”

“No you’re not,” Peter countered, closing his eyes for a moment. “May said. . . She said somethin’. I don’t remember what she said but you wouldn’ leave.”

“I’m just messing with you, Kiddo,” Tony assured him. Peter felt a hand in his hair and leaned into the touch. “May wanted me to tell you she only left because her boss is an *sshole, by the way. She told you herself before she left, but wasn’t sure if you would remember.”

“‘S okay,” Peter told him, looking up at him. “You can go too if you needa.”

“Wouldn’t even think about it, Pete. I’m going to stay as long as you’re here.”

Peter just smiled in reply. “I’mma sleep now.”

“Alright, Buddy,” Tony replied, taking his hand and squeezing it once. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“You’re okay, you’re okay. I’ve got ya.”

Peter tilted his head back, taking shaky breaths. He was gripping onto Tony tightly, leaning most of his weight on him. “I think I’m gonna pass out,” he breathed.

“Alright. You want to sit in the chair?”

Peter nodded and let Tony lead him to the seat, carefully lowering him into it. He closed his eyes in an attempt to calm himself, breathing heavy. His leg was hurting terribly even after just standing for a minute, and he had felt sick the moment he tried to move.

“Your blood pressure tanked, Buddy,” Tony told him, sitting on the edge of the bed. “We’ll get you back in the bed once it levels out and try again tomorrow.”

Peter sighed and nodded, feeling tears in his eyes as he opened them again. He had been in the hospital for over a week now and he was ready to go home, but the doctors said that he couldn’t be transferred until he was able to make it to the bathroom and back with help. Then, even when he got back to New York, he would be stuck in the medbay at Avengers Tower until he was completely healed. This was not how he planned on spending his summer.

“Hey,” Tony started softly, standing up and coming to crouch next to Peter. He took his hand and held it in his own. “You’re doing great, Pete. You’ve come so far.”

“I’m just so tired,” Peter whispered, trying to keep his voice from breaking. “I’m tired and I miss May and I just want to go home.”

“I know, Kiddo,” Tony sighed. “I wish I could take you home, I really do, but we need to make sure you’re strong enough for the trip.”

“I know,” Peter breathed. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Bud,” he replied. “You’re doing so good. You’ve been so brave through this, and I’m so proud of you for that, okay? Just stay strong for me a little longer.”

Peter nodded, unable to reply because of the knot in his throat. He felt a hand on either side of his face and then a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m not sure I told you this, but I’m so glad you’re okay,” Tony murmured.

“Yeah?” Peter asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s going to take time to heal, but what matters is that you’re here and you are healing. I know it sucks, and I’m so sorry that you’re hurting, but in the end it’s all going to be okay.”

Peter sighed and nodded, pushing himself to the edge of the chair and leaning forward. He was glad when he felt arms pulling him close, then heard the familiar beating sound in front of him. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Of course, Pete,” Tony replied, ruffling his hair a bit. “Anytime.”

#whumptober2020 #no.21 #infection #fandom #writing #marvel #mcu #avengers #irondad #spiderson #tony stark #peter parker #iron man #spider man

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 3 years ago

Text

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 66 – A Solution, a Dilemma, and an Ordeal

“Just as I’d thought.”

Upon Frankenstein’s murmur, Takio and M-21 stuck out their faces from behind him towards the papers he was holding.

Alas, they gave up straight away as their eyes locked upon the numbers, graphs, and charts incomprehensible for their level of knowledge.

Tao, the only person they could count on to translate them into human language(?) was busy fidgeting with the machine that just printed out the papers.

Which is why they had to wait for Frankenstein to explain.

And they showed the generosity of waiting until Tao could bring Yuigi from the machine.

When the subject of the tests finally arrived, Frankenstein nonchalantly raised his glasses and began his lecture.

“Simply put, I need to take a look at your head.”

“What?”

“Huh?”

“Hmm?”

Yuigi retorted in fluster, with Takio and M-21’s bafflement resonating in the background.

Tao’s mouth was hanging open as well, his eyes very close to popping like a pair of balloons.

“That was meant to be literal. There’s something in your head.”

“...So Yuri that bastard did something under Crombel’s order, when I was imprisoned at his temporary lab.”

Yuigi scowled as hard as she could and moved her hand to her temple.

She could not remember what happened back then, her memories blurry due to pain.

She tried scrutinizing what was left of the pieces of her memories, but she could not find any scene holding Yuri doing something to her head.

Assuming it happened when she finally succumbed to pain, Yuigi focused her gaze upon Frankenstein, demanding more details.

Flapping the papers, Frankenstein landed upon the page about in the middle and turned it around for his small audience, displaying CT and MRI pictures of Yuigi’s head.

The pictures were not so big, but the four of them could see very clearly something was there, their vision much more superior to normal human vision.

They could see an array of spots, each of them much more miniscule than grains of sugar, scattered in the area where her frontal lobe would be.

“I don’t need to tell you what I want you to look at, do I?”

“No. But what’s this? Did something get into Miss Yuigi’s head?”

“Yup. I recalibrated that machine according to my manual, and I believe Crombel planted nanochips in your head, Yuigi.”

“Nanochips...? Are you saying all those spots are...”

Yuigi’s body heaved, as if she were just notified that the dinner she had yesterday was infested with cockroach eggs.

“When I...”

Frankenstein’s lips were shut in the course of his reply.

The pull between his lips were so natural, like the sort that would exist only between two poles of a magnet.

Which is why no one noticed that it was not his intention to halt in the middle.

Calming himself by fingering his glasses, Frankenstein restarted himself as smoothly as he could.

“When I left this place, I could get my hands on several files and data on the Union. Some of them were about Union arts and crafts we weren’t aware of, including this technique that employs nanochips. Since Union's main focus was on the mastery of body modification, nanochips were not exactly the favorite from Union’s shelf of goods. But I wouldn’t say they completely disregarded this technology, since it’s on the list of items that none other than Ignes took her time and effort and resources to study.”

“So are you saying the nanochips in my head are Ignes’s creation?”

“Either Crombel snuck away her recipe to dissect and put it back up in a fashion he prefers. Or she stole some of the ingredients he was handling.”

“So what exactly does this thing do?”

“Consider it a remote control to make a marionette out of its host. One of the features of this nanochip happens to be automatically appropriating the host’s control over its body when the host finds itself in mortal danger, so to make sure the host will stay alive as long as its puppeteer wants.”

The four humans gaped at him, confusion clear on their faces, and Frankenstein continued on, probably having foreseen this.

“Remember what happened when I had a rematch with the 1st Elder right before our final showdown against Crombel? Back then he was under Crombel’s control. He served as Crombel’s battle figure, his mind in one piece, with only minimum amount of life force left in him.”

“...With his willpower trapped within, watching and hearing and experiencing how his body is not his...?”

Yuigi muttered, the only one who did not take part in the aforementioned battle, apart from Tao, who had had wire updates on the situation.

The three members of the RK knew why she looked so stunned when she had nothing to do with this occasion.

“So... You’re saying the nanochips that Yuri injected into Miss Yuigi are...”

“They were probably the prototype of the technology Crombel used upon the 1st Elder. You said when you were fighting with that Kornel guy, you couldn’t even speak before you had an outbreak of emotions and broke free from the unwelcome disconnection of your mind from body, right? Unlike you, at least 1st Elder could offer some words to me back then.”

“Wait a minute. The gas we fired was based on a sample of Yuigi’s DNA.”

“So maybe all the people who went through body modification are plagued with...”

“Oh, don’t worry. The results show that the mechanism of body appropriation derives solely from these nanochips. And as you can see, these nanochips were inserted only in specific parts of her brain. So the victims won’t turn back to pseudo-zombies.”

“So once these nanochips are gone...”

“You can return to who you are. I’ll soon come up with a treatment, so I’d appreciate it if you could take your time and wait.”

Yuigi nodded in affirmation, but in reality Frankenstein knew there was no need for a treatment.

The only thing Frankenstein had to do was to draw out just enough power he needs to destroy the nanochips within all at once.

However, he had to coin a specific treatment for the sake of another soul who was unofficially booked for a doctor’s appointment with him.

Another reason why Frankenstein scurried from Lukedonia upon hearing Yuigi’s symptoms from Tao.

And something that had been poking needles into his sanity way before the QuadraNet project joined to add trouble to his side.

‘Lord Muzaka said that during the nuclear missile incidence, his body scrammed from the site on its own. Which would most certainly mean his body saved itself from mortal danger. I bet I can find the exact same nanochips in his head as well.’

If he were to be honest with himself, Frankenstein was dying to use this opportunity to his benefit, to broider the front and back of the werewolf lord’s head with big, fat, angry marks from his grasp.

‘But I have no reason to turn the entire wolfkind into my enemy, after everything that has happened. Not to mention Lunark won’t be happy if she later finds out what...’

At then his hand froze in the middle of its frenzied waltz across Yuigi’s test results.

It was neither in his intention nor in his cognition, yet his thoughts darted themselves right back to Lunark before he could stop them.

In fact, he was stunned for a moment back when he mentioned Ignes’s studies, for he was reminded of the werewolf warrior who visited his island to hand the files of the noble whom he destroyed himself.

Now that his mind summoned Lunark twice, everything he regarded he had left behind in Lukedonia – his thoughts about her, his deliberation on her, and his feelings for her – cascaded right into his heart to cause furious ripples.

He came back to Korea to seek time to himself, but seemingly fate did not want him to waste his time taking refuge.

Towards the room that the RK and Yuigi emptied, the sound of footsteps that Frankenstein would always notice regardless of time and place drew near.

Which was a sign that he could hide no longer.

“Master.”

Raizel’s face was blank despite Frankenstein’s greeting, a natural response from a non-talkative noble.

Which was why Frankenstein momentarily lost his control over his facial profile when Raizel dispensed a verbal reply to his greeting.

“Still afraid, are you?”

Raizel’s words drew Frankenstein’s ears right back to Earth, the blonde man mincing his lips.

“Frankenstein. You treasure her.”

Raizel usually leaves others untouched in terms of their emotional states, in respect of their respective owners.

Yet here he was, volunteering to unwrap the subject as soon as he made his arrival, especially at a time like this, which gave Frankenstein good idea of how much he had been in anguish.

And now that the topic was out in the open with Raizel’s courtesy, Frankenstein knew somehow sneaking past this topic is not an option for him.

Considering where he was standing at this point, he knew he should at least touch on – no, definitely put an end to this dilemma.

“I believe you already know she treasures you just as same. You would know the colors of symphony in your hearts have been identical for a long time.”

Frankenstein’s lips were unmoving, his tongue dormant.

“Know I well what you dread. You must have dreaded harming Lunark even little under the influence of the Dark Spear, as Lascrea attested. Remember I of how the Dark Spear absorbed Crombel and the shards of Blood Stone to attain greatest power in its history. And with Lunark recovering from the harm caused by the Dark Spear, I can feel how haunting the guilt of your heart is.”

“...Then you would know. You would know that is exactly why I don’t deserve to...”

“Do you still believe you will be a harm to her?”

As mellifluous as crimson silk was Raizel’s voice, but Frankenstein had centuries of experience with his master to pick up how his tone steeled by the smallest of the shade.

Which is why he unconsciously began retracing the facts instead of losing his words.

“...No. I can no longer detect Crombel or Blood Stone within the Dark Spear.”

Frankenstein was telling the truth.

Although he had no chance to look back on exactly what Lunark did to him, too occupied with agony while standing guard by her bed, he could feel how the Dark Spear returned to how it used to be before it absorbed Crombel and the Blood Stone.

“Then no more is the reason for you to hesitate, is there?”

Frankenstein was dumbstruck, the answer so very simple and clear.

The reason why he had been staying away from those dear to him, Lunark included, was because he feared he will lose his battle of dominance against the Dark Spear and manifest as a weapon threatening them.

His fear grew even more humongous ever since the nightmare of effigies the Dark Spear staged for him.

But now that the Dark Spear can no longer be a nightmare for him, there was no reason for him to keep himself isolated any longer.

“What is the bidding of your heart? The choice is most definitely yours, but I have had my lessons from 820 years of sleep. Only logical for us it is to live our lives to fullest, with no regrets, during the time that is given to us. We must listen to our hearts for what they wish. We must follow the choices our hearts seek.”

Raizel gazed at his most trusted follower, unmoving and silent.

“I have already told you. The last thing you can save at the moment is time. So do not save your time. Use it well to look into your heart in wholesome.”

“...Yes, sir. I shall do that.”

Raizel, as always, did not linger after delivering all of his messages.

Frankenstein stayed muted in solitude until he got moving; it was time to take a look at another patient he was tasked with, and Tao joined him in the middle, rather faster than what either of them expected.

“Right now, we are the only ones tending to Mr. Jang. Now everyone at KSA knows about his betrayal, so nobody’s visiting him. Well, Sir Rael was the only one apart from us that...”

Thanks to Tao, Frankenstein was reminded of the lesser son of the only one he could ever dub as his true friend for his life.

Rael already left prior to his return to Korea, and being the heir of Kertias, the fastest of nobles, by now he would be officiating his homecoming in the Lord’s Hall.

And Frankenstein heard from his team about the skirmish Rael had with none other than his own kind – with none other than a head of a noble clan.

Tao was about to voice his concern for Rael while he was at it, but then he suddenly heard Frankenstein puffing out a ball of air.

Did he just laugh when we’re discussing Sir Rael here?

Tao’s eyes bulged out, but Frankenstein did not let him stare at him, wiping off his face of his laughter and concern.

‘What am I worried about? I should worry about myself. As of now, that boy will have no trouble at all.’

After a brief self-reprimand, Frankenstein began to strut ahead, with Tao tagging along and complaining at him to wait up.

(next chapter)

Previously Raizel asked Lunark to take good care of Frankenstein. Now he’s telling Frankenstein to follow his heart. I didn’t plan or see this coming, but I made Raizel a matchmaker in my fic. XD As you would’ve noticed, next chapter will be featuring on Rael, through a scene that I had been dying to compose since the brainstorming stage for this fic. Stay tuned and find out how my boy is going through another growth in his career as a head of his clan!

(Edited) I just realized I posted this chapter instead of saving it as a draft - my mistake, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again! My apology for whoever that got confused with the early upload!

#korean webcomic #korean webtoon #fanfic #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #lunarkxfrankenstein #wolfsbane #Mr.Wolf #AnAngelicDay

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choruscas · 4 years ago

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suptober day 10: sweet rides

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

(THERE WILL BE A PART TWO TO THIS! ONCE IT’S OUT, I’LL EDIT THIS ONE AND LINK TO THE SECOND PART ONCE IT’S FINISHED!)

also, sorry that you’re seeing the earlier days in your feeds! i forgot my writing ipad when i went on vacation this weekend, so I’ve been trying to make up the days i missed! i should catch up soon, i’ve just been incredibly busy!

October 10th, 1890 - Lawrence, Kansas

Castiel drew his breath in as the cold air of fall hit his face. He looked around the town, seeing no signs of anybody out.

Most of them were probably in saloons or shops of some sort, drinking their sorrows away with cheap whiskey and tapping all their fortunes out with gambling.

He had lived in this town his whole life, but downtown he has only recently grown familiar with it.

Two months ago, his parents disappeared from him. And the rest of his family either moved away from Lawrence or were arrested for felony and murder charges. Castiel wasn’t like that. Being the youngest in the Novak family was hard, but he managed. He was the last of the Novak’s and he never made any promises to carry the family name, since he wasn’t interested in women of any kind.

So he wouldn’t. Once he drew his dying and final breath, the Novak’s would be no more.

However, in the meantime, he could make fault of his name. He wasn’t the proudest of being a Novak, but like previously said, he managed.

Walking through the dirt roads, marked with horses hooves and wagon’s wheels after years of use, Castiel found himself at the Roadhouse, like he did every Friday night.

He enjoyed the company there, and the beer was cheap but it was decent. He wasn’t much of a drinker, as his mom had drank her heart out all his life, but alcohol was the norm, so he occasionally had a beer or two.

He went inside, pushing the doors forward to be greeted by Ellen Harvelle, the Roadhouse’s proud owner. She was serving a man, who Castiel had never seen before, with big ears and a long nose.

“Hello Ellen. Is Jo working tonight?” he smiled at her while approaching the counter. Jo Harvelle was younger and was also Ellen’s only daughter.

“Nah.” She shook her head. “She’s got studyin’ so she’s workin’ on that upstairs.”

Castiel nodded and looked around the room, there were the usuals that were normally around, like Bobby Singer with his friend Rufus Turner, Meg Masters (a devil in disguise, ask anybody) and...

Dean Winchester.

Town’s heartthrob. And Castiel would never admittedly say this, but also the only man Castiel had currently sought out for.

About a month ago, Dean’s father had died and so him and his brother moved all the way from Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to Lawrence. He became a regular and were familiar with some of the townspeople, since he had lived there until he was four. His mother had died in the paper’s fire at their house, and so they moved across the country. Since the town was celebrating its thirty-sixth anniversary soon, it meant that the town was still young, and so was Dean. John Winchester — thy boys’ father, was a state-famous cowboy, which gave Dean and his brother Sam a good name.

However, Castiel’s has barely usurped a full-on conversation with the man. Castiel was fairly confident, but pretty boys like Dean made his throat close up. Normally their conversations were around five minutes long, until some girl comes and ushers him away.

Although Castiel has never heard that Dean has gotten lucky with any of the women in the town. Maybe he kept it a secret, or maybe he wasn’t interested in sex. With a body like his, Castiel was surprised he didn’t. He could do so very easily, with anybody in the town who was willing.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean called out, waving a large arm up in the sky. Next to him was who he thinks was his younger brother, with shaggy hair and a lanky body, Sam Winchester.

Assuming Dean’s gesture was meant to usher him over, Castiel got up from his stool and walked over, taking off his black cowboy hat and placing it on the pool table once he got to his destination. Dean tipped his Stetson in greeting and flashed a toothy smile to Castiel, causing his cheeks to heat up.

“You here for a beer, angel?” Dean asked.

That was new.

“Uhm, yes. Like I normally am.” Castiel replied solemnly, a little bit skeptical since Dean was being extra flashy today.

Perhaps it was because Sam was around.

“Well,” he started. “I’d like ya to meet Sammy, my lil’ brother. Sammy, Castiel. Castiel, Sammy.”

Castiel nodded. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

The younger brother stuck his arm out, signaling a handshake. It was firm, despite his young age. “You too.”

Dean gave his brother a grin and a wink and Sam had almost immediately left to go to the counter, instantly striking up a conversation with Ellen.

Odd.

“So, have you heard about Lucifer?” The question just popped up out of the blue. Dean was leaning on his cue pole, his hands over the top and his chin resting on his knuckles.

Castiel quirked his head and furrowed his eyebrows.

“The murderer, guy got his face on the wanted posters ‘bout two months ago. People are sayin’ he murdered two people and some animals or somethin’. I don’t gossip like some people do here but it’s somethin’ I’ve heard goin’ ‘round.”

He licked his lips. He hasn’t seen any wanted posters of any kind, so either he was blind or oblivious to his surroundings. Hopefully the latter.

“I haven’t. Is his real name Lucifer?” Castiel asked, now engaged in the conversation, curious.

“Naw, Lucas or somethin’. Lucas... Shurley, I’m pretty sure.” He bit his lip, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets.

Fuck.

“Lucas Shurley? I...” Castiel’s mouth went dry and the world suddenly got dizzy. “I need to sit down— o-or leave... I—“

Dean put down his cue stick, and it clattered to the ground. He gracefully swept over to where Castiel started leaning over the pool table. He put his hands on his back and laced his fingers with his to support him up.

“Cas?” His voice was soft, like of those of a kitten. “Hey... hey, man. Are you alright?”

“I have to go home—“ Castiel started, his stomach feeling like thousands of volcanic ruptures.

“I’ll take ya, man. How far do you live?”

Castiel looked up to face Dean. “About— about two miles up north. You... I can walk.”

“Walk? No. Where’s your horse?”

“Don’t have one anymore. Horse disappeared along with my parents.” Castiel said like it was nothing.

In all honesty, he didn’t believe it was nothing. He just didn’t want to worry Dean.

It was everything. Chuck and Naomi Novak were his favorite people in the world. Sure, the both of them smoked their lungs dry but without them, Castiel would be a goner. They’ve saved him, fixed him, in more ways and times than he could count.

“I’ll take ya, Baby can fit two.”

“Baby?”

“My black mare. God, she’s a beaut. Love o’ my life.” Dean smiled with pride.

Castiel nodded. That’s how Lincoln was to Castiel and his family. He was a very obedient crime colored horse, and he was very fond of him. However, after his parents disappearance, Lincoln had gone with them. Over and over Castiel theorized where they could’ve gone, but nothing of the sorts came to mind. They’ve always sort of stayed around Lawrence. Never the adventurous type, which was why their disappearance was odd.

Baby was a very comfortable horse, but it was even more comfortable to wrap his hands around Dean’s waist, feeling the rise and fall of his breath against his body. His chest was touching his back and Dean talked to him as Baby slowly rode ahead. Dean had reassured Castiel that since he didn’t feel well, Baby wouldn’t go as fast as she normally would’ve.

Hiding his blush in the night sky, Castiel’s eyes were weary and droopy. He never even got the time to get a beer, nor talk to anyone else. His trip was cut short. However, so was Dean’s.

“Sammy’s a genius, I’m tellin’ ya.” Dean filled the empty silence with something to talk about. “Been studyin’ to go to this new college called Stanford. ‘Bout five years old, fairly new. It’s all the way in California, poor guy.”

Castiel didn’t respond, but Dean could feel the nod of his body against him.

“You got any siblings?” Dean genuinely asked, cocking his head back to meet eye to eye with Castiel. Dean seemed like a good horseback, so he trusted him.

Castiel thinned his lips. “Yes... two. They don’t live around here anymore. Older brothers... uhm, Michael and Gabriel and-“

He stopped himself.

“And what?” Worry sort of filled Dean’s voice.

“I also have an older half brother... but I don’t talk to him. He sort of made my life a living hell growing up.”

“‘M sorry to hear that, Cas.”

Baby stopped in her tracks slowly, and Dean eyed Castiel’s cottage. It was on the outskirts of town, and the wooden place wasn’t the biggest, but it managed. He was proud of it. It’s been there since Lawrence founded in ‘64 and he wasn’t planning on demolishing it anytime soon.

Dean hopped off of Baby and grabbed Castiel’s hand to help him. The sickness started riling back in his gut and he walked to his front door quickly.

The wooden patio could barely hold one person without creaking in vain, crying out because of the heavy steps heaving on it. Let alone two. However, Castiel couldn’t tempt away from the green eyes and peppered freckles face with a smile he’s grown so fond of since Dean moved back.

Dean took off his hat and placed it on his chest, his fingers curling around the crease and pinch of it. He looked down.

“I just realized ya forgot your hat at the Roadhouse.” Dean chuckled, his laugh music to Castiel’s ears. “Could I stop by tomorrow afternoon ‘n give it to ya? I promise I won’t mess wit’ it.”

Castiel nodded, his face becoming red. “Thank you, Dean.” He paused, then he furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Dean simply blinked and didn’t hesitate. “Because you made me realize that angel’s were real.”

They said their goodbyes and Castiel laid on his bed, first taking off all his clothing except for his undergarments. His sheets were cold with lack of use, as it has been a while since he’s used them.

Thoughts of Dean and his freckled body filled Castiel’s head. The imagery of his cock in Dean’s soft ass pumped his heart and he bit he lip, to try and attempt himself from getting hard. He had nothing but his hand to relieve himself, so he couldn’t tonight.

However, if he got lucky with Dean, he would be a sweet ride indeed.

(tags below)

@potato-painter

#suptober #suptober20 #day 10 #day 10: sweet rides #sweet rides #destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn #cowboy!dean #cowboy!castiel #cowboy!au #cowboy!deancas

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