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22ayla19 · 5 months ago

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Jiyan x Pregnant! reader PART I

As the wife of a general, you rarely saw your husband at home, but even so, in those rare moments when you spend time together, you try to enjoy so as not to forget them. After all, no one knows whether tomorrow or the day after tomorrow your husband will be alive.

Once again you accompany your husband to the gate and sadly look back at his departing figure. The next time you see him, you're not sure. Maybe in a month, maybe in two or three. No matter how many months pass, you will still be waiting for Jiyan.

However, a week after your husband left, you began to feel sick in the morning. Without being stupid and remembering that about a week ago you had sex with Jiyan, this could mean that you are pregnant. Of course, you bought a pregnancy test and checked your guesses, which in the end turned out to be correct.

Not knowing what to do in such a situation, you went to the hospital where your mother-in-law works. She, as a doctor and as a woman who has gone through pregnancy, will be able to tell you what to do, because in the early stages there is a possibility of miscarriage, and given your position as the wife of a general, who often puts her life on the line on the battlefield, there may be a high probability of miscarriage. How are you worried about him?

- Hello, mom. How are you doing? - you asked after knocking in your mother-in-law’s office. You didn’t even call her mother-in-law or her name, because she became a real mother to you. You grew up without a mother who died during childbirth. She was in the care of her father. You didn’t complain about life, because others could have had it worse, but your father didn’t stay with you for long, he died a couple of years ago. And when you first met Jiyan’s mother, you cried because of how much you missed your mother. The woman warmed to you and accepted you as her daughter.

- (Y/N), dear! Come in, come in! I haven’t seen you like that for a long time,- the woman hugged you, to which you happily responded.

- Sorry for not visiting, it’s work,- you answered the woman guiltily.

- Don’t worry, you have your own life, that’s why it’s understandable that you’re busy, sit down.

After chatting a bit about Jiyan's return and the latest news, you gathered your strength to share the good news.

- Mom, I really came to you with good news, - rummaging in your bag, you pulled out a pregnancy test and handed it to your mother-in-law. At first the woman did not understand why you wanted to please her. Taking the pregnancy test into her own hands, the woman’s smile became even wider.

- Will I become a grandmother? - the mother-in-law asked, not believing the test.

- You will become a grandmother, - you answered calmly, but just as happily.

- My congratulations, dear! How happy I am for you! Does Jiyan even know?

- No, I just found out that I’m pregnant a couple of days ago, and he’s been gone for almost two weeks, - you explained. You were already about to say something, like advice for pregnant women, when your father-in-law came into the office.

- Why are you happy here without me? Did something good happen? - asked the man.

- Rejoice, old brat. You will become a grandfather! - the wife shouted joyfully.

- Come on! (Y/N), dear, are you really pregnant? - The man asked you, not believing his wife’s words.

- Yes, father. I am pregnant.

The man smiled with all his teeth and joyfully said that now his colleagues would envy him that he became a grandfather before them. We laughed a lot at the man’s words, but the uncertainty immediately disappeared when we saw their loving glances.

Over the next months, while Jiyan was away, his parents helped you in any way they could. The main thing was that they supported you morally, because you were still worried about your husband. Another point where they helped you was with a medical examination, you underwent it on their advice once or twice a month. You decided not to find out the sex of the child ahead of time, let it be a surprise for everyone, no matter who it is, a boy or a girl.

Soon it was announced that the general would return, which means he will soon find out that he will become a father. The belly has already become more noticeable, although this is not surprising considering that I am already 4 months pregnant.

It was evening outside, you were in the living room with your mother-in-law and were talking about different topics. She often came and helped around the house more than once, saying: “You’re in a position, so it’s better to rest and walk more. I’ll cook you delicious, but healthy food at the same time.”

While you were chatting, the front door opened.

- I’ll go check who’s there, - said the future grandmother.

You remained in the living room, sitting on the sofa. Expecting to hear at least some voices, but somehow everything was suspiciously quiet.

Meanwhile, in the corridor, the woman met her son, who had returned from the border zone. Jiyan wanted to ask what his mother was doing in his house, but she told him to remain silent and quietly, so that you wouldn’t hear, told him to go to the living room, where you had prepared a surprise for him.

Jiyan was confused, what have you prepared that even his mother is participating in your idea? Quietly entering the living room, he greeted you, thereby frightening you.

- I’m sorry, dear, that I scared you, - the general said guiltily.

- It’s okay, I’m glad you returned safe and sound,- you replied. Jiyan didn’t immediately realize that you were pregnant, because you covered your stomach with a blanket.

- Mom, she said that you had prepared a surprise for me. Curious to know what it is?

- Well, the surprise itself is not ready yet. It will be ready only after another 5 months, - you answered your husband with a mischievous smile.

- That is?

You didn’t leave your husband thinking for long and took off the blanket. Jiyan's eyes widened in surprise. He remembered leaving and leaving you for a couple of months, but he didn’t know you were pregnant.

-Are you pregnant? - A lot of emotions were reflected on the general’s face. And joy, and fear, and surprise. He did not expect that he would soon become a father, he was very happy to realize this, but with this comes fear. Fear of losing you and your unborn child.

- Yes darling. I am pregnant.

These words echoed in his mind. He cried, cried with happiness.

- Darling, you can’t imagine how happy I am. You made me the happiest person in the world, - hugging you and also crying, he thanked you for such wonderful news.

Maybe someday he will have to die on the battlefield, but until then, he will fight. To fight so that I can return home to Jinzhou and see you and your baby growing up every day.

#wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves #jiyan #jiyan x you #jiyan x reader

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thepersonnamedsam · 1 year ago

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Could you do reader gets her wisdom teeth removed and the drivers take shift in watching her ?

anesthesia

pairing: the genz!driver x '23!grid

summary: the genz!driver wakes up one day with so much pain that she has to take out her wisdom teeth

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of depression and anxiety, reader on a high

note: sorry, it got a bit depressed here and there, but it’s still a very fun post to read, well at least i hope so

masterlist / taglist

Everything hurt, like everything. Not just a limb or a stomach, her whole body hurt, but mostly her mouth, her teeth actually. But she would never say that, afraid someone would accuse her of not brushing her teeth.

Oh and she was whining. Everybody she encountered had to listen to her whine. Show her body hurt and everything pulsated and how she just wanted to sleep and it was the worst. People war starting to worry about her. And Charles was the first one to suggested to pay a visit to the medics.

„Would you like me to bring you to the medics, y/n?“, he had asked her. But she just whined and shook her head. „Are you sure, you seem like you are in a lot of pain“, he checked with her, but she still refused. She didn’t want to know, if she had a bad tooth.

It was only Wednesday, so just media for the day, or that’s what y/n thought. When you’re in pain, even media is hard. She was thankfully paired with Max, Lando, Fernando and Kevin. At least she had some people she felt comfortable with. Max sat on her left, whilst Fernando sat on her right. Next to Max was Lando and Kevin sat on the other side of Nando - she was squished between the drivers. Her body leaned slightly into Nando and he just let her, he had heard about her pain and was just glad she was up and walking.

They asked some questions, y/n not really present and not actually listening, until Max poked her and pointed to an interviewer with his index finger.

„I am so sorry, what was your question again?“, she asked the nice looking lady. She smiled and repeated her question to the young driver: „There were some rumours going around that you are in pain, is that true and can you elaborate?“

y/n groaned internally, of course her pain made the talk. She was half expecting the question, if she could race this weekend with her pain and if she would’ve answered truthfully, she would’ve said I don’t know.

„Thank you for your question. Uhm, yes, I am experiencing some pain at the moment, but it’s not as bad as it seems. I can still race on Sunday“, she talked into the microphone. The interviewer seemed only kind of content with her answer, but it’ll have to do, because y/n was back on leaning against Fernando and had closed her eyes.

When she woke up on Thursday morning, she had to clutch her cheeks. Groans left her mouth and she was ready to die, or that’s what she thought. Something wasn’t right. She wanted to call Seb and ask for his opinion on things, but when she opened her mouth, she almost screamed. She opted for a text, explaining how much her mouth hurt and what she should do.

Seb immediately saw her message and had to ask Hanna. His wife told him to ask someone on the grid to take her to the dentist - immediately. So, that’s what he did.

„Hey Lewis, what’s up? Listen, I have a request for you“, he told Lewis over the phone. He explained how the young driver has felt pain in her mouth for the last two or three days and how she woke up that day with unbearable pain. „Aw man, that’s bad, she can’t race with that now, can she?“, the Brit asked back. Seb shook his head no, even though Lewis couldn’t see the action over the phone.

„Hanna said to take her to the dentist, and you know I would do it myself, but you guys are in Silverstone and I myself are in Switzerland.“

Lewis promised him to take the girl to the dentist as soon as possible. Seb exhaled, glad to have helped in some way. He texted y/n back, told her that Lewis was gonna take her to see someone for the pain.

You can’t imagine how glad y/n was, that Seb handled all of that for her. She texted him a thousand thank yous and she hugged Lewis so tight when he was standing in front of her hotel room.

„Ready to leave?“, he asked her. She nodded and the two left the hotel together. As always, paparazzi were waiting for the drivers and flashed them with their questions and pictures.

„Where are you going?“

„Is it related to your pain, y/n?“

„What do you think about the track, Lewis, will you bring it home?“

y/n‘s eyes hurt, well everything hurt, but the bright flashes didn’t do anything against the pain, it much rather made it worse. Lewis saw how y/n had to shut her eyes closed, so he took off his Mercedes hat and placed it on her head. The journalists would have a feast with that.

In Lewis‘ car, she took his hat off and placed it on the dashboard. The car ride wasn’t long, only about twenty minutes. And as the two walked into the dentists office, her heart started racing. The last thing she wanted to hear, was her having a bad tooth.

y/n struggled with depression and anxiety, so normal tasks as brushing teeth, was sometimes very hard to maintain. Her daily trains and meals were easy, because she had her personal trainer who tracked her and was always by her side. But as soon as she was all alone again, the easiest daily routines became the hardest. Brushing teeth and hair, showering and washing her hair. Cleaning the kitchen or the bathroom. Washing her clothes on the Monday after a race. It was all so hard, but she didn’t want anyone to know. She didn’t want people to know and pity her.

That’s why people noticing her unfinished tasks or her habits, it made her anxious. So, so very anxious. And she especially didn’t want Lewis to know. He would just tell Seb and Seb would probably order her to Switzerland and make an appointment with the best psychiatrist he knows and she could forget her racking career. No, that was not gonna happen.

„Lewis, can you please wait outside?“, she begged him. But he wasn’t budging. He knew of her fear of dentists and was not having it. He was going in with her. So, he took her by her hand and dragged her to the treatment room.

Her mind raced with anxious thoughts, but the dentist did not confirm her worst fear. Her wisdom teeth were growing and they had to be taken out eventually. But not at the moment, because she had Free Practice, Qualifying and a Race she had to attend in the next four days. They made an appointment on Monday, they would bestanden out under anesthesia, because of her fears.

The dentist sent her home with some pretty strong pain meds, which she was glad, because for the first time in a week, she didn’t feel any pain.

The days flew by, she placed P11 on the race. She was so happy for Lewis and Lando, a bit sad for Oscar. But so, so happy for the Brits. As she was standing from the sidelines, Lando offered her a the champagne bottle, but she couldn’t eat or drink 14 hours before her surgery and definitely no alcohol. So, she kindly declined and opted for a quick thumbs up and a air kiss for her favourite boys.

Fernando had heard from Lewis about her wisdom teeth and offered to come with Lewis, so he wouldn’t be all alone with the young and high driver. He may have also talked to Carlos about it, who told Charles, who told Daniel, who told Max. They were all coming with. Some to help the young driver and some to laugh at her. Their group chat was going to be full of videos and photos of her.

Monday morning, the girl was waiting anxiously for Lewis‘ car. And when he finally pulled up and she saw who were sitting in it, she groaned.

„Lewis, I told you not to tell anyone“, she whined. The addressed only laughed, so did the whole car. She squeezed herself between Charles and Carlos, who were sitting behind the drivers seat and the passenger seat. Lewis was driving, obviously, Fernando was sitting next to Lewis and Max and Daniel were seated in the backs seats. Even though it didn’t make much sense with Daniel, because of his long legs, he had to sit in a weird cramped position.

When the seven arrived, the assistants looked at them funny and the dentist had to hide a snort. The young girl with her seven bodyguards.

The procedure was short, all four teeth were removed and now they were waiting for her to wake up. The dentist warned them, that the anesthesia doesn’t wear off for about ten more minutes, so she’ll be sleeping until then. And after that, she’ll still have some after effects. Max was waiting for that to happen.

Her mouth was dry and it felt like she had sand in her mouth? Anyway, her body felt like she was hit by a truck, possibly a Haas or an Alfa Romeo. She blinked slowly, why was it so bright? And why were her hands not moving up to her face like she wanted them to? What was going on?

Something loud an obnoxious forced herself through her ears, it was almost painful. What the fuck was happening? She tried to wiggle her toes, but they didn’t move. She looked panicked and tried to find a familiar voice. That’s when she saw Daniel laughing, pointing his phone at her, probably filming this whole thing. Her eyes followed his movements and she found Lewis slightly smiling at her. She saw him move his mouth, but she couldn’t hear anything.

Lewis saw the watery eyes of her and wanted to reassure her that she was safe and all went well, but the more he spoke, the more tears spilt out of her eyes. She full on started crying. You could sense, that everyone in that room was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do. Until Fernando went up to her and took the girl in his arms. Shushing and humming a light tune. Soon her tears turned into hiccups and she was calm again.

„My body isn’t moving they way I want it to“, she whined, but it was hard to understand her with all the gauze in her mouth. „And I’m thirsty.“

Carlos stood up and got a cup of water for her, which she was very grateful for and she met him know very much.

„Thank you so much, Carlito. I love you, I hope you know that.“

The boys laughed at her, but she looked at them mean and said: „Don’t be jealous because he receives my love. And stop laughing, it’s so loud.“ That made Daniel laugh even louder and she just glared at him. Max was snickering silently and hit Danny on his arm, to signal him to turn it down a nudge, but that he was enjoying that just as much as he was.

„Danny, I heard you’re gonna be back on the grid in Hungary?“, she smiled at the Australian. „Yeah, yeah, but different than you might think.“ He smiled back at her and she made grabby hands at the older driver. He laughed and went to hug her. She nuzzled her head into his crook between shoulder and head and sighed.

„You know, I don’t think Heidi would enjoy you snuggling like that with y/n“, Max made the remark, but Danny just showed him his middle finger and put his arms more around y/n. It was soon time to take the girl back to the hotel, but that was harder than it sounded. Her limbs were still not reacting at the same time and walking was a no go. Lewis and Fernando immediately backed out of carrying her to the car, reasoning with their age and their backs. So, Charles was the one volunteering to piggy back ride her to the car.

„It’s like she’s drunk. Has anyone ever seen her drunk, by the way?“, Carlos mentioned. „Oh, yes. Let’s get drunk, guys. Carlito, that’s a very good idea of yours, that’s why I love you so much“, y/n responded to Carlos question. Max started to laugh and got out his phone to record the conversation.

„Okay, let’s not address some stuff with her in the car, okay? Stuff that could make her cry, or bring stupid ideas to her head or any stuff like that“, Lewis said from the drivers seat, his head turning slightly to look at all his passengers. „Agreed“, said Fernando.

„Can we listen to some music?“, she whined. She was whining for everything, so you couldn’t really call it whining anymore. Fernando turned on the radio and Speak Now was playing. „Omg, Nando! It’s your girlfriend!“, she patted Fernando excitedly on his back. He just grinned and said: „Hasn’t she been linked with someone else now?“ - „Well yes, Matty Healy, that greasy singer from The 1975, but you were a much better candidate for mother.“

„Is it Taylor’s Version“, she asked. „What is Taylor’s Version“, Max asked. She gasped and turned around to face the Dutch driver. „You don’t know what Taylor’s Version means? Shame on you!“

The car ride was short and they were soon in the garage of the hotel. This time it was Daniel who was carrying y/n to her hotel room. Charles was still rubbing his shoulders, as she gripped him so hard, out of fear she could fall off. Until then, everyone on the grid knew about the girl getting her wisdom teeth removed. That’s why Lando, Oscar, Alex and Lily, George and Pierre were waiting in front of her room.

Fernando was the first one to notice the bunch and laughed out loud. y/n covered her ears, as she was still thinking that laughter is too loud and was hurting her head. Lily was the first one she noticed, so she sprung from Danny’s back and sprinted towards Alex‘ girlfriend. „Lily, hi, what are you doing here?“, for Lily it was hard to understand her, not yet having learnt what her gibberish meant. For the others in the car, it became noticeably easier the more she talked.

„Hi y/n, I heard about your wisdom teeth and I just wanted to check if you were good and if you need anything. But I see that you already have a bunch with you.“

The young driver nodded and hugged Lily once again. She looked at Lewis so he would open her door. He smiled and made his way through all the drivers. And as soon as he opened the door, y/n was on her way to lie on her bed. The others went one by one into her room and either sat on the few chairs or opted to sit on the floor. She soon was snoring slightly, y/n was out cold.

„So, how do we do this? We can’t all be watching her or can we?“, Pierre asked the group. „We can take turns“, suggested George. „I would probably go, I mean, we, right babe?“, Alex turned towards his girlfriend who nodded her head. „I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t alone, s‘all“, she said.

„We can take the first round, right mate“, Lando looked towards Oscar, who nodded at his teammate. „Okay, thanks guys, I think me and Fernando will be back in, let’s say, three hours?“, Lewis asked. „We can look after you guys, me and Carlos“, Charles said and everyone nodded. „Max? You and me?“, Daniel wiggled his eyebrows at Max who laughed in response. That only left George and Pierre, who were content that they were last, which meant, they had a high chance of not looking after the driver.

Everyone left, expect the two McLaren drivers. Lando soon set up his phone and would start recording everything when she woke up. She did after a 20 minute nap and was very confused where all her favourite people went. She started to cry and Lando tried hard not to laug. „Hey there, what’s wrong?“, Oscer asked the girl. „Where did everyone go?“

They explained the situation to her, but she didn’t stop crying. She wanted to drink something, but the last time she couldn’t hold the water in her mouth. „I can ask for a straw, maybe that’s better?“ Lando frantically searched for the phone to the reception. Unfortunately they didn’t have any straws. „Oscar, go to McDonalds or so and get a straw!“

„Lando, I love you so much, the things you’re doing for me“, she whispered and Lando almost didn’t understand her. Nevertheless, he was still touched.

She mostly slept, took some pain meds and slept again. It wasn’t really necessary to watch her anymore, but all of them still stayed. Even on the next morning, where most of the grid flew home again. Lewis accompanied her home and they facetimed Seb together. He’s seen all of the videos already - she doesn’t remember a thing. He was just glad that she was okay.

y/n said her hellos to Hanna and his two girls and cooked for Lewis - vegan of course. She was so glad to have all of her friends working with her, she wouldn’t know what to do without them.

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret, @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @whatthefuckerr

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zepskies · 3 months ago

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Lost on You - Part 3

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: The tables are about to turn…

Word Count: 3.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Implied smut, drug use (weed smoking), and a bargain struck…

🎙️ Series Masterlist || YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 3: A Deal is a Deal

Once you were back from your little excursion, you were relieved to return to the privacy of your room. You dropped heavily down on the bed, face first, with an oof.

Rolling onto your back, you stared up at the white ceiling. Perfectly white. Unbidden, the memories of spending the day with Ben filtered through your mind. You were a little put out to realize you had mostly enjoyed yourself through it all, even though you knew he was only doing it to hook you in. To charm you.

To fuck you.

But the memory of his cocky grin, the restrained power in his hands whenever he touched you, the feeling of his lips dragging against your skin, and his sinful voice…

Well, pulling away from him had taken more restraint than you’d anticipated. Rolling your eyes at yourself, you sat up and went over to your desk where your phone sat. It was time to check in at home.

You dialed the number from memory and waited as the line rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad, it’s me.”

“Oh! Hey, honey. How’s it going over there. You all settled in? Get to do your first save yet?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m good,” you said. “I was meant to do my first save today, but…well, some things didn’t go according to plan.”

“Oh, really?” He sounded disappointed. It carved another small notch in your gut.

“It’s no big deal. I’ll get another chance soon,” you promised.

“Your first save on camera is important for your PR. They can’t wait too long on that,” he said.

You resisted the urge to sigh. You dropped your forehead into your hand, still holding the phone to your ear with the other.

“Yeah, I know,” you said. “Anyway, how’s Mom?”

He sighed. “You know. Good days and bad days. Today…today was a bad day.”

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth. Your brows furrowed with concern, and a familiar ache settled in your chest.

“Can I talk to her?” you asked.

“Ah, I just got her to take her medication. She’s resting now.”

“Okay. Yeah, don’t worry about it then,” you said. “…Do you think you guys will be coming up to visit with Chris this weekend?”

“You know what, I’m sorry, honey. I just don’t think it’s a good idea. All those people,” he said. You were nodding before he finished the thought, even if he couldn’t see you.

“Yeah, it’s okay. They’ve got me pretty busy right now, but I’ll come by and see you guys when I can.”

“All right. Sounds good,” he said. “Oh, before I let you go. I got the latest bills on your mother’s treatments. It’s just, it’s a bit too much for us. Think you could help us out again?”

You paused for a second, but you readily agreed.

“Sure, just let me know how much. I’ll write you a check.”

“Perfect. Thank you, honey.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said. “Um, tell Mom I said hi then. When she wakes up.”

“Aw, I will. Don’t worry. Now, go out there and make some saves!”

Your lips pursed. “Yep, will do.”

When you hung up with your father, you felt even more exhausted than before.

You had another mission on your schedule, this time with Black Noir, Soldier Boy, and Gunpowder. Your excitement had built all day after Arthur’s assistant Joanna called you with the news.

However, when you got downstairs to the lobby where you were meant to meet the team, you found Crimson Countess in heated discussion with Arthur himself.

He looked a bit exasperated, but was trying his best to be professional with her. You had a bad feeling about this.

“I understand, but this is meant to be Sirena’s day,” Arthur said. “We’ll get you and Soldier Boy together on the next one. Just you two, if you guys want.”

“It’s just that Ben and I haven’t done enough together recently. I miss him,” she said, hanging off her boyfriend’s arm. Ben himself seemed to be going along with the idea, looking like he didn’t much care one way or the other. Yet his slight smile looked smug. It likely stroked his ego to have her wanting to be with him for once.

She even leaned up for a kiss. Ben spotted you out of the corner of his eye. His smile kicked up a notch before he obliged her with a slow kiss.

Your gaze fell to the ground as you swallowed your irritation. It wasn't jealousy, however. You knew exactly what she was doing.

Arthur sighed. He’d noticed you as well. He gave you an apologetic look, but he came over and informed you that it would just be original team members today. Considering the last episode with you and Countess, he thought it best that they didn’t team you up again for your first official save.

Couldn’t agree more, you thought, but it also meant that you wouldn’t be going out with the team today. You’d be losing a prime opportunity to show what you could do and finally get the ball rolling on some good PR.

Countess shot you a wink when she and the rest of the team started to head out. You gave her a fake smile.

Fucking bitch.

The weekend came, and you had to put on a good face to hide your latent frustrations from your brother, Chris. He and his family had come to visit you, driving over from Queens.

When they arrived in the Tower lobby, you went to them and let your brother pull you into a big bear hug. It brought a genuine grin to your face as you hugged him back. You hadn’t seen him in months.

“Hey, troublemaker,” he said.

“What do you mean? I’ve been on my very best behavior,” you quipped.

He smiled wryly. “I’m sure.”

He pulled back so that Danny, your four-year-old nephew, could run up to you. You bent to his level and gave him a big hug as well.

“Hey, buddy!” you said. “Did you get the action figures I sent you for your birthday?”

“Oh, he did,” said Ellie, your sister-in-law. “To no one’s surprise, Soldier Boy’s his favorite. He sleeps with it under his pillow.”

You laughed a little dryly at that. Danny was a big superhero fan as well, but there was no accounting for taste. Your brother sidled up to you for a conspiring whisper.

“Yeah, about that. Is the big guy busy?” Chris asked. “Because I may have accidentally promised Danny that he’d get to see Soldier Boy today, and he hasn’t shut up about it ever since we started planning this trip. It’s literally the only thing he wants. So maybe now that you’re a famous superhero, you can do your big bro a solid so the kid doesn’t have the world’s most epic meltdown—”

“All right, all right. Shut up,” you said, holding back a laugh. Inside though, you were strained.

Shit.

“Okay, why don’t you guys hang out in the lobby for a bit, check out the gift shop,” you said. “I’ll…see if Soldier Boy isn’t too busy.”

You braved going up to Ben’s apartment on the penthouse floor, where three beautiful, if scantily clad escorts were just leaving. One of them was stuffing a wad of cash into her bra. Rolling your eyes in disdain, you almost lost your nerve.

This isn’t for you, you reminded yourself. It was for your nephew.

So you knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” you heard from inside.

“It’s me, Sirena.”

There was a pause, but eventually he replied.

“Come in.”

You had some trepidation twisting the knob and opening the door. When you stepped into his suite for the first time, you weren’t surprised to be assaulted by the smell of sex and weed smoke. You waited in the foyer of a lavish space, with shiny marble floors and rich dark wood furniture.

Ben padded out to you barefooted, but at least he was clothed, in a black silk robe no less. He was also smoking a fat blunt.

“What’re you, Hugh Hefner?” you couldn’t help a remark.

Ben grinned around his oral fixation. He blew a coil of dank smoke up into the air.

“Who do you think gave him the whole Playboy idea?” Ben said. He eyed you in your supe suit. “What can I do for you, baby doll? You caught me at a good time. Although, about twenty minutes ago would’ve been even better.”

Hiding your disgust, you waved the gray, musty cloud away from your face.

“Since it’s a good time, I actually wanted to…ask you for a favor,” you said. You knew how dangerous that really was by the way he smiled.

“Okay,” he said expectantly. You released a breath to steady yourself.

“My family’s here visiting, and understandably so, you’re my nephew’s favorite superhero.”

Ben chuckled through his nose, releasing more smoke like a fire breathing dragon.

“Understandably, huh?”

“Of course,” you said. You made sure your smile seemed sincere. “Look, about what happened last week…I hope you’re not upset with me. I had a lot of fun with you that day, and I’m really grateful that you wanted to show me a good time. To be honest, I’m incredibly flattered that you even noticed me.”

You took a step closer into his orbit, until your chest was inches away from brushing his. He looked down at you.

“But I know I’m the rookie here. I don’t want to step on any toes, especially Countess’s. I have a feeling she doesn’t like me very much,” you said. Your eyes were half-lidded in demure.

You were putting on your best performance. He only took half the bait, however. Ben’s mouth quirked at the corner, and he set his blunt on a nearby ashtray.

“I understand,” he said. “So what do want from me?”

Hmm, maybe your rejection had bruised his ego more than you expected. But really, he had to be refusing to break up with Countess for appearance’s sake, because there didn’t seem to be any real love there.

Christ, he wants to have his cake and eat it too.

“Well, like I said. My nephew is downstairs, and he’d really love to meet you,” you said. “Could you, uh…pretend to be a little more family friendly for a minute and take a quick picture with him?”

Ben frowned, like he was offended. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean? I’m a family guy.”

You raised a brow. Glancing around his apartment, you didn’t see any pictures on the walls, nor had you ever even heard him talk about his family.

“What’s in it for me then?” he asked, crossing his arms.

You blinked your eyes wider. Really?

“I doubt whatever you’re thinking, Soldier,” you said, a little more snidely than you meant to.

Ben’s cocky smile said it all.

Your lips pursed in exasperation. You hadn’t thought you would have to bargain to get him to be nice to a kid.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Clearly you’ve had a long day, so I’ll just get out of your way,” you said, raising your hands in surrender. You turned to leave.

“All right, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he said.

You paused at the door, tossing him an annoyed look over your shoulder.

His smile deepened. “I’ll do it.”

His steps were measured as he approached you. You turned back to face him, albeit warily. As he seemed to like doing, he gently grasped your chin between his fingers.

“I’ll do it for a kiss,” he said.

You tried to stifle your smile of amusement.

“One kiss?” you clarified.

“One kiss,” he agreed. “That’s harmless, right?”

Unlikely. But it was a bargain you were willing to make. It might even work in your favor.

“Okay,” you nodded, guiding his hand away from your face. “After you hang out with my nephew, for five minutes at least.”

He smirked at you. “You’re a demanding little thing.”

You gave a more impish smile. He then walked away to his bedroom, presumably to get dressed. You hoped he’d take a quick shower as well.

Ben found you downstairs in the lobby, now cleaned up and dressed in his supe suit. He hammed it up with your family. He was charming with your brother and your sister-in-law, and welcoming to your nephew, calling him young man and sport and pal and recounting an old war story with gusto.

When it was time to take a picture with Danny, Ben lifted the kid up into his arms, pretending he weighed a ton. It made a normally shy Danny giggle with glee, and Ben playfully held him under his arm so he could ruffle his hair. You noticed some genuine joy on the man’s face.

Afterwards, Danny even unzipped his backpack and showed his hero his collection of action figures. His prize’s possession, of course, was Soldier Boy.

Things were going so well that Chris and Ellie felt comfortable enough to break off and grab some food at the food court, while you stayed with Ben and Danny. They sat on one of the couches in the lounge area, play fighting with the action figures.

“So, got yourself a girlfriend yet?” Ben asked.

When Danny made a face of confusion, you shot the man a pointed glance.

“He’s a kid, Ben.”

He shrugged with a grin. “Fine. A little early for that, huh? Trust me, not for long.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“What’s your favorite sport to play at school then?” Ben asked.

“Ummm…” Danny thought about the question. He was busy creating a small Lego tower for Swatto to perch on. “Connect 4.”

“Connect 4?” Ben repeated. He shot you a glance, and he leaned over. “Kid ain’t too bright, is he?”

“He’s four years old,” you whispered indignantly. “He’s not exactly getting drafted for the NFL.”

Again, Ben shrugged you off and continued playing with the kid. You had a feeling he was enjoying it more than he’d be willing to admit.

When Chris and Ellie returned with food for you and Danny as well, Ben took it as his cue to duck out of the rest of the family activities.

“Thank you for your time, Soldier Boy,” Chris said, shaking his hand firmly. You knew he was trying to come off as manly as he could. You hid a smirk behind your hand while Ben obliged him with a nod.

“Yes, thanks so much!” Ellie gushed. She’d got a picture on her own with Ben earlier, and Chris had tried to pretend to be okay with the way she’d hung off the supe’s arm with proverbial stars in her eyes.

“You’re very welcome, ma’am,” said Ben, laying a smiling kiss on her hand. You thought her heart might just stop right there.

You sighed and took Ellie by the shoulders. “Okay, why don’t you sit down before you pass out.”

“Good idea,” she said breathily.

“You’re leaving?” Danny asked. He looked up at Ben with big glassy eyes, and he started to cry.

Chris grasped his shoulder and smoothed back his hair. “Aw, buddy. Soldier Boy’s really busy, and it was really nice of him to spend so much time with you.”

You laid a hand on Danny’s other arm. You glanced up at Ben, imploring him with your eyes, though you didn’t exactly know what you were asking for.

With a subtle sigh, Ben relented. He lowered down and took a knee in front of Danny.

“All right, none of that now. There’s two things a man doesn’t do: cry, and take shit from anybody,” he said. You frowned, but before you could say anything, Ben laid a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “I’m not going to forget you, Danny. In fact, I’m really glad I got to meet you today. Because I can tell you’re gonna be a great man someday.”

Danny sniffed, but his tears stopped. He smiled when Ben ruffled his hair again.

Despite yourself, you smiled too as you watched the scene.

Maybe he does have a heart in there somewhere.

After dinner, you gave your brother and his family a tour of Vought Tower, including your apartment. An hour later, you led them back to the lobby. They had booked a hotel nearby and were planning to see more of the city tomorrow before they went back to Queens.

You were grateful to get some time alone with your brother first, while Ellie took Danny for one last stop at the gift shop. You and Chris sat together in the lounge area.

“Is Dad still asking you for money?” he asked.

You frowned at him. “For Mom’s medical bills. It’s not like it used to be.”

“Okay,” Chris said, glancing away. “It’s just ironic that Mom and Dad can’t really appreciate how far you’ve come, after everything they did to get you here. After everything you did to get here.”

You sighed. They’d had variations of this conversation before, and it never ended well.

“It’s not her fault she got sick,” you said.

“Yeah, it can’t be the pack-a-day she smoked since we were kids.”

“Chris.”

“Well, it didn’t just tickle her lungs and kidneys,” he pointed out. “I swear, our family should’ve been sponsored by the Marlboro Man.”

You shook your head and glared at him. “She’s getting really bad now.”

“Yeah, I know. You weren’t the only one they called asking for money,” he said. He quieted in contemplation.

Despite his attitude, you knew he was hurting. This was just how he dealt with pain—by pretending he didn’t feel it.

Chris eventually sighed, relenting a little as he grabbed your shoulder. “Sorry. I know it’s always been harder on you. I just…they want to pretend like all that other shit never happened, you know?”

You nodded, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. You didn’t have the energy to get into all that other shit. Not today.

After you said your goodbyes to your family, you steeled yourself and ventured back up to the penthouse floor. This time when you knocked on Ben’s door, he was properly clothed, now out of his supe suit and wearing a nice shirt tucked into some dark brown slacks. He was halfway to putting on a pale gold Rolex.

He must be going out, you thought.

“Two visits in one day? Boy, do I feel fuckin’ special,” Ben remarked. He offered you a drink, and you accepted. You actually needed something to calm your nerves.

He led you into the living room and made you a vodka soda upon your request. He poured a glass of bourbon for himself. You slipped a finger around the rim of your glass, and you met his expectant gaze.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” you said, “for what you did today.”

You then smiled wryly. “I know it wasn’t without motive, but it made my nephew really happy.”

You took another sip of your drink and set it down on a ledge above the fireplace. It was your turn to look up at him expectantly.

“Okay. A deal is a deal,” you said. “One kiss. I’m sure you’ll make the most of it.”

Ben set down his own glass beside yours. He drew closer, looming over you. You almost felt the warmth of him; you certainly felt his anticipation. Or was that your own?

His head bowed, ever closer. But he stopped just shy of his lips brushing yours.

“Not just yet,” he said. He pulled back from you, making your brows furrow.

“Not yet?” you asked incredulously.

“Just what I said, sweetheart,” he grinned.

You blinked up at him in confusion, and then in annoyance, though you tried to keep it off your face.

“Must we play this game? Just kiss me,” you said. You grasped his arms in invitation, but he slipped out of your hold.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“But why?” you asked. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Apparently it is to you, rookie,” Ben said. He stepped back into your personal space, but you held your ground. “So I played nice, like the gentleman I am. But now, it’s gonna be my right to claim my prize when I want to.”

Your lips pursed. So he wanted to change the rules, did he?

You adopted a more magnanimous smile.

“Fine,” you said.

You grabbed your vodka soda and took another poised sip before you slipped it into his hand. Then you turned on your heel and left his apartment.

Ben watched you go with a smirk on his face. He raised his own glass back to his lips. He knew then that no matter what game you were playing at, he’d finally gotten under your skin.

AN: Ben's pressing his luck, isn't he? 😂 But I think you guys are going to like where we're going next...

(Bet you wondered why a song from Grease was on the music playlist for this series. 😉)

Next Time:

Arthur nodded. “Well, Soldier Boy agrees that you’re impressive. And he’s been chomping at the bit for something new. So, I talked to Madelyn and the rest of the team, and we think you two should do a duet together. A cover.”

You blinked a bit wider. “O-Oh, really? Of what?”

“You remember ‘You’re the One That I Want,’ by John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John?”

“From Grease?” you asked with furrowed brows. That movie was like, five years old already. But you did see the previews for a new movie John and Olivia just did together, Two of a Kind. It was set to come out later this year.

“Exactly,” Arthur said, pointing at you. “It could be bigger than the movie!”

You doubted that, but it was still a great opportunity for you. The exact kind you'd been waiting for. There was just one problem.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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emptyultimatum · 3 months ago

Text

GOOD GIRL

Avenger Loki x gender neutral!reader In which Loki changes things up a little

~ SMUT!! [ fingering, praise, light breast play, light oral, references to vaginal s3x ]

~ TW!! [ character injury but mild ]

I meant it as a joke, you thought to yourself, half ruefully, half gleefully. But as the quivering, spread legs before you revealed a dripping, fluttering cunt, you could hardly call your thoughts regret.

It all started with the mission. Twenty-four escaped convicts, an easy night out for the Avengers. Technically, it was below Avenger status (not exactly world-saving, after all), but Tony was trying to make a good impression on the U.S. government, so the superhuman heroes spent a lot of time running errands for the White House. You and Peter were on it, an easy fix. Honestly, either one of you could’ve done it alone.

You went left, Spider-Man went right. There were supposed to be an even split, but the numbers changed too quickly to communicate. You soared over the frigid treetops, angel wings beating the air, when a harpoon speared through your feathers. You crashed to the ground, keening with pain.

Six criminals got away. Peter handled the other eighteen, but the damage was done. They sent Vision after the last six and helicoptered the two of them back to Stark Towers.

Loki, as one can imagine, was distraught.

“What happened? Parker, who did this to her? She needs medical assistance—”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, Curlicues?” Tony Stark gestured to the corner with his chin. “Go over there and sit like a good girl.”

An unfamiliarly dangerous spark lit Loki’s features. You cocked your head curiously through the pain, but Tony blew him a kiss. Loki hissed through his teeth, but backed off, letting Tony scan your gaping wound.

“You know, I always wondered if these things were illusions,” Tony mused, tapping on his holographic screens. “They appear out of nowhere, it doesn’t make sense, unless—”

“Pocket dimension,” you gritted, as Bruce Banner and Tony snapped their fingers in unison.

“That does make sense,” Bruce said brightly.

A red syringe-shaped arm popped out of the side of the medical bed. It blasted freezing nanoparticles over the gash in your wing, then retracted. Enhanced healing patches were placed over the bruises and road rash along your arm and thighs, and Tony gave you a jar of skin-repair salve for later. A few adrenaline injections to the arm later, and you were feeling much better.

“Can I see my boyfriend now? He might tear a hole through all nine realms if you don’t let him check on me,” you rolled your eyes, beckoning Loki over.

He pushed past Tony, elbowing him out of the way. “Darling, are you okay?”

“You’re welcome,” Stark said. “No problem. I’ll just go over here and lick my ass, I guess.”

“Yes, do that,” Loki muttered. Tony winked at him, deadpan.

“I’m much better,” you reassured him, flexing the wing and drawing his attention. “I heal quickly, remember? The worst was the pain, but it won’t linger.”

“Good. Then let’s get to your bed. You need rest.” Loki scooped you up. The world wavered in a flash of green, blinding and strong, and suddenly they were back in their old, cozy room. A sweater lay, forgotten, on a chair. A few snack wrappers and… other kinds of wrappers lay scattered about the floor.

“Oh it’s a mess,” you smacked your forehead. “Good thing they healed me in the med bay and not here.”

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry,” he assured you, his eyes sincere. “Just take it easy, dearest.”

“What’s got you all worried, Lo?” you laughed, cupping his cheek. “I’m fine. I’ve been hurt worse before.”

“Yes, but that was before we were together. Additionally, I fear I’m facing some… insecurity, as it were.” He glanced away, cheeks pinking.

“Insecurity? About what?”

“I- nothing. It’s no matter. We shall discuss later,” he brushed you off, standing. “Please, let me clean for you.”

You grinned up at him. “If you say so. Thanks for cleaning for me, Loki. You’re such a good girl.”

You put a growl on it, a low, sultry purr. The tone of voice you usually said good boy or beg for me in. You meant it as a joke, a demeaning one, a call back to Tony’s patronizing snub.

Instead, you saw something liquify in Loki’s eyes. That same look he got when his cock was in your hands, or your teeth were sinking into his skin.

And being yourself, you capitalized on it.

“Do you like that?” you cooed, arching an eyebrow. “Do you want to be my pretty girl, Loki? My good little obedient princess?”

Oh, you had him cornered. His bottom lip trembled with thinly held control, his eyes darting back and forth, warring with himself.

You reached up, pulling him back down, so that he kneeled before her. You locked his gaze with her own.

“If you want to be my good girl,” you said gently, “You can.”

Loki shuddered, and slowly, his shoulders began to slough down and round off. His frame turned slighter, more slender, and his chest swelled. He was daintier, but still with the shoulder-length choppy hair and wild silver eyes. He was no he at all. She was Loki. A tall, wiry, masc Loki, with a dripping mess between her legs.

Loki whimpered as you laughed aloud, running your hands through that silky black hair. “Oh, you pretty girl, so many tricks up your sleeve! Why don’t you strip for me, so we can see what pretty trick you have up your pants.”

You had never seen Loki undress so quickly.

And so, here you were, Loki breathless and growling beneath you, your fingers sliding into Loki’s slippery, throbbing mess. You curled your fingers acutely, and Loki bucked up into your hand.

“Naughty,” you cooed. “Bad girls don’t get to cum. Stay still.”

“Please, love,” Loki begged, her cheeks flushed red. “Please let me cum.”

“Behave,” you scolded. “And maybe I’ll consider it.”

Loki let out the prettiest keening sound you’d ever heard. You giggled, leaning forward, wrapping your lips around Loki’s pulsating clit. You sucked, hard, and she moaned again, her legs clamping around your head.

“Is this the insecurity you were dealing with, pet?” you asked, stroking the pad of your thumb over Loki’s sensitive, aching clit. “Were you lost?”

She nodded, eyes screwed shut with pleasure and humiliation. “I wasn’t sure how you’d —fuck— react.”

You smiled, running your hand flat up her belly, cupping a tender breast, and squeezing. “Pretty girl. I’d never want you to be anything less than yourself.”

Her eyes opened, beautiful and silver as always. Loki smiled up at you, holding your hand over her breast. “Sweet love,” she murmured.

“Besides,” you gave her a sharklike smile. “Now I get to fuck you. Spread your legs.”

With a whimper, she complied.

#loki is an avenger #loki x reader #loki smut #loki is genderfluid #loki laufeyson #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki x y/n #loki #mcu loki #smut #dom reader #sub loki

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iliketangerines · 4 months ago

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you could write about touch starved Bihan reuniting with the reader who came back from a long mission?

the feeling of you

a/n: goddamn i need bi han like i need him

pairing: bi han x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI) implied blanket consent, cockwarming, somnophilia

Bi Han paces about his room, gritting his teeth together and wearing a hole through the flooring with how long he had been walking back and forth

you were supposed to come back today from your mission, but the day passed by without your return, leaving Bi Han worried and anxious

he knew your skills, fought against you personally many times, and you knew the risks when you had proposed the mission and then gone on to lead it, saying that you’ll be back in a week

still, he worries about your safety, and Bi Han sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, deciding that it would probably be better to just sleep

there’s a knock at his door, and he growls and stomps over, irritated that someone would dare to knock on his door so late at night and when he’s so stressed out, and finds a foot soldier

they bow and report that your team has arrived back at the base, and Bi Han fights with himself to keep his composure as he bows back and closes the door

he throws on a night robe, rushing out of the room to the entrance, and he finds you standing there, ordering some of the soldiers to bring medics and bandages

you spot him and wave, smiling brightly, and the grandmaster rushes over to you and pulls you in for a tight hug, burying his face into your hair and breathing in your scent

he missed you more than he would ever admit out loud, but you know him and smile, squeezing him back tightly and saying that you missed him

Bi Han just grunts, melting into how your hands rub at his back and how you place a gentle kiss to the side of his neck

hugging you tighter to his body, he refuses to let you go, closing his eyes and enjoying your warmth pressed against him

finally, you pat his back and say that you’ll find him soon, you just need to bring some of the injured soldiers to get checked out for their injuries

he scoffs and mumbles that they should've taken better care of themselves, and you roll your eyes and gently bring your hands to push lightly at his chest

Bi Han sighs and pulls back away from you, already missing your warmth against him, and you let out an amused huff and bring your hand up to cup his cheek

leaning into your touch, he looks at you through half-lidded eyes, and you say you’ll be back in thirty minutes and if you’re not, he can find you and drag you back himself

he hums and turns his head to kiss the inside of your hand and says to make it twenty minutes, and you laugh and agree, giving him a quick kiss to his lips and pulling away

Bi Han wants to chase after you, to get more than just a brief brushing of lips, but he restrains himself and glares at the soldiers staring at him, summoning his blade of ice

they quickly get back to work on the supplies, and Bi Han leaves, walking back to his quarters and waiting for you to arrive

he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the sliding doors and waiting for you to walk through, and he glances up at the clock on the wall, cursing time for passing so slowly

twenty minutes feels like forever, and Bi Han spends every minute of his time glaring at the door, willing you to appear at his side

as soon as the clock hits twenty minutes, he stands from the bed to find you, wanting, needing to feel you against his body, and he opens the door only to find you standing in front of it

you smile at him, saying that he was bang on the dot, and Bi Han simply grabs onto your wrist to drag you inside and closes the door behind him

he pulls you into his body, wrapping one arm around your waist to bring you in closer, and his other hand comes up to cusp the back of your neck and press your foreheads together

you don’t protest and let him touch you and feel your chest rise with his, how your warmth envelopes his body and his mind, soothing him and his worries

his head leans forward to press his lips to yours, and he sighs into the kiss, having missed the taste of you, and holds onto you gently

your hands hold onto his shoulders, sliding underneath his night robe to squeeze at the strong muscle, and you smile into the kiss, your eyelashes tickling his cheek as you close your eyes

Bi Han could stay in this moment forever, you against him and warm and safe, and he groans at the feeling of you melting into his embrace

neither of you move, simply kissing and letting out small little sounds every so often, and you finally pull away, breathless and flushed

his lips chase yours for more, needy for all of you, and you laugh and squish his face with both of your hands, telling him you just needed a second to breathe

he scowls at how you squish his face, but his chest warms at the feeling of your hands against his face and he wishes you could touch him forever

breathing in sync, it’s only the sound of both of your breaths mingling, and the grandmaster stares at you and waits for you to catch your breath

you bite your lip, stifling a yawn, and he blinks at you, asking in a hoarse voice if you want to go to bed, ready to pick you up and place you into the soft sheets

he had made sure the sheets were washed today, the pillows were fluffed, the covers were changed just to prepare for your arrival, although he would never say that to your face

your hands move down from his face to his shoulders as you hum, eyelids drooping close, and you say that you wanted to show him a surprise

Bi Han lightly chuckles at the exhaustion starting to hit you, the adrenaline was probably starting to sputter out and leaving tiredness in its wake

regretfully, he moves to the side, keeping one hand on your waist, and starts to move you to the bed to let you get your much-needed rest

you sigh and stop him, saying that you’re going to at least brush your teeth before you go, and you leave his grip, give him one last kiss, and shut the bathroom door behind you

he can hear the sink running, splashing water and the sound of the toothbrush, and Bi Han lays down on the bed, watching the door carefully for your appearance

it feels like an eternity, knowing you were right behind the door just out of reach as you got ready for bed

the image of you in your pajamas however, quickly shuts Bi Han’s thoughts down, your skin and thighs on display as you sleep in one of his shirts

the door slides open, and the grandmaster’s mouth drops open slightly as he stares at you, dressed in a nice set of lingerie that he most definitely did not buy you

your skin is on display, scars from sparring and missions on display, your chest pushes out the top and your thighs are in a mish-mash of straps, a slight pudge from how tightly they squeeze your figure

it makes his mouth water as his eyes roam over you, and he itches to touch you, to hold you and grab you

you walk over, trying to stifle another yawn and crawl towards him on the bed, asking if he liked it, you had bought it while browsing through the town you were stationed at

he sits up properly and traces his fingers along your skin as you kneel on the bed in front of him, sitting on your calves, and he breathes out through his nose harshly at how goosebumps appear where he touches you

he grabs onto the flesh of your thighs and lightly squeezes at the plushness, fighting a moan from crawling out of his throat at how soft you are

your head slightly droops forward, and he sighs at how exhausted you are and says that you can’t be comfortable and that you should change, that you can surprise him another day

slowly, he moves his hands backward to find the clasp for your top and slowly undresses you, and you grab onto his shoulders for balance and frown, saying that you really wanted to surprise him today since you know how much he missed you

Bi Han shakes his head and says that you come first, especially after a long mission, but he can’t help the way his hands shake and tremble at the feeling of your skin underneath his fingers

you’re still so soft and plush, strong and lean from fighting and yet so gentle with him and the initiates, the dichotomy makes his head spin every time

he wishes he could ravage you right now, hold you down and taste you with his tongue, watch you squirm in this beautiful set you had bought for him

shaking the thoughts from his head, he helps you undress, licking his lips at the sight of your bare skin and trying to ignore the ache in his pants

no matter what you wore, you always looked the best without clothing, where he could touch every inch of your skin and where you could touch him without abandon

you frown and say that you’ve also missed him, you’re going to actually explode if you don’t touch him right now, and Bi Han smiles at your persistence

truly, he could never resist you, and he hums as he unbuckles ever strap holding onto the pudge of your thighs and guides you on the bed to slip them off of you

your eyes never leave his body, and he can feel you staring at him and fight off the sleep as you sigh and grimace at the sight of the lingerie discarded to the side for now

he lays down on the bed and cuddles you close, his chest pressing to your back and using the opportunity for his hands to grab onto every bit of your skin, and you let out a tired giggle at how needy he is and place your hand over his

you hum and grind your ass back onto him, feeling his hardness and turning your head to raise an eyebrow at him, and he rolls his eyes and says that you need your rest, he can wait

biting your lip, you say that the both of you could compromise, that you could just cockwarm him while the both of you sleep, a win-win situation

Bi Han’s brain’s nearly turns to mush at the suggestion, and the thought of you so close to him and feeling every inch of you somehow gets him so much harder

his hand moves from your waist to your pussy, and he rubs his fingers against your clit, your top leg slightly lifting to give him better access

his fingers part your folds, and he grins at how you’re already wet, your cunt drooling onto your thighs and onto the sheets below

he moves his fingers slowly against you, rubbing your clit in slow soft circles and listening to you quietly groan and whine as you pant into the air

you wriggle in his grip, pushing your ass further into his clothed cock, and he chuckles at your impatience and whispers into your ear to let him enjoy you

moving his fingers downwards, he slips both of them into your needy pussy, the slick easing the stretch, and his fingers curl right into your sweet spot to make you moan

Bi Han listens to you squirm and can feel your hips trying to grind down further onto his fingers as he abuses that spot within you

your pussy clenches around him as you gasp and grip onto the pillow in front of you, and he fucks you on his fingers through your orgasm, his palm grinding into your clit

as you calm down and your breathing deepens, he slips his fingers from your pussy, wiping them on the inside of your thigh

he removes his hands from you, already missing the warmth of your touch underneath his fingers as he removes his underwear and flings it into some forgotten corner of the room

as quick as he can, he settles back in behind you and moves one hand to hook around your thigh and lift it up just enough to slide his cock in between your folds

your cum and wetness coats the length, and Bi Han breathes through his nose harshly, transfixed on how your body shivers and trembles as he pushes in

it’s like music, how you whimper and pant out breathlessly at the feeling of being filled, and he nearly cums just at the feeling of you clenching around his cock

letting your thigh come back down and wrapping his arm around your waist, he squeezes you to control himself and restrain from cumming inside of you so quickly

you squirm in his grip, struggling to control yourself, but eventually your twitches of pleasure turn into slow sleepy breaths as you settle down

he can feel tiredness weighing down on his own eyelids as he watches you fall into sleep, pussy still warm and wet around him, leaking your want onto your thighs and onto the sheets

but Bi Han can’t bring himself to care, not when you were so close, so pliant and soft underneath his fingertips, and he closes his eyes and falls asleep with you

when he wakes up, you’re still asleep, body still recovering from your mission, but his cock aches with need, almost painful with how needy he is to cum

his fingers dig into your skin as he grunts, and slowly he removes his hand from your waist, tracing his fingers over your stomach and down your thigh to lift it up

you don’t stir even the slightest, and Bi Han squeezes at your plush thigh as he lifts it up, enjoying the feeling of the fat spilling in between his fingers

his hips thrust up into you, drawing a small moan and whine out of you, but you don’t do anything else, still deep in the throes of sleep

he takes it as a sign to fuck into you slow and steady, groaning quietly at the wet squelch of your pussy as he thrusts his cock into you

you’re so tight, so much warmer than he remembered, and he resists the urge to bite into your neck in an effort to keep you asleep

Bi Han moves slow as he fucks into you, pleasure slowly creeping into him as he climbs toward the edge of the abyss of pleasure

it’s just the sound of your quiet whimpers and his strained grunts as he squeezes at your thigh and fucks into your wet pussy

he groans as he thrusts into you, cumming inside and filling you with his hot seed, and he can feel drops leaking out and onto the bed

you let out a small sound as you cum as well, groaning out his name and turning your head to look for a kiss, and Bi Han gladly gives you one, slow and deep

your eyes still droop, still fogged by the haze of sleep, and he tells you to rest a little longer, he’ll clean you up

nodding, eyes closing and body relaxing, you tell him to take what he needs from you, and he smiles and presses a soft kiss to your neck, thanking you

a small hum leaves you and then you’re asleep again, and Bi Han slides his softening cock out of you and moves you so that you lay flat on your back

he adjusts his position, hooking your thighs over his shoulders and moaning at the feeling of your soft thighs squeezing his head

digging his fingers into the flesh, he licks his lips at the sight of your needy pussy and leans in close to clean you up, and perhaps just to get a good taste of you

Bi Han could never get enough of your touch, your skin, your softness, and he would gladly take whatever you would give him

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artdcnaldson · 2 months ago

Note

medical MALPRACTICE 💜

theater kid conversation and gyno art conversation got me thinking about dr pommader from waitress…. aaurrr art, your pretty gynecologist, who you try your best not to look at too much during appointments bc you’re afraid you’ll get wet and he’ll obviously be able to see…

you’ve been seeing him more recently bc you and your bum ass husband are trying for a baby, but nothing is happening. your husband is convinced it’s your fault, so you go to dr. donaldson (art, as he insists you call him) to run some fertility tests. when you tell him what’s going on you swear you can see his eye twitch when you mention your husband blaming you. the exam is…… charged. he takes extra care with you, his gloved fingers gentle but firm, definitely lingering longer than they need to as he talks you through what he’s doing. he’s always been so easy going and he still is, but there’s an authoritative edge to his voice as he massages your gummy walls to “relax the tissue” so he can take samples for the tests. he asks you exactly what you’ve been doing to try for a baby… asks you describe positions that you’ve been trying… you blush and tell him it’s nothing but missionary in the dark for you and your husband. you see that little eye twitch again. he tells you that some positions are more optimal for it to take, offers to show you how to get into them. you end up on his table with him bending and stretching you into different positions, one with your chest down and your ass up with your thighs squeezed together, another on your back with one of your legs hiked over his shoulder. he maintains that he’s just demonstrating for you, but you’re both throbbing with need under your clothes. you can feel how hard he is in his scrubs, but you don’t mind even a little bit. you wish he’d fuck you right here on this table and he’s thinking the same exact thing.

you leave dazed and more horny than you think you’ve ever felt in your life. and if he schedules your follow up for after all his nurses and receptionists leave so it’s just you and him when he tells you you’re more than fertile and your husband is the problem… that’s nobody’s business but yours and his <33

MOANED AND DIED

God... you show up to the follow-up wearing a pretty little sundress (because it's easy to take on and off for any exams, of course! no other reason). You wear your hair really nice, do your makeup, leave your wedding ring in your car.

You always knew it was going to be your husband that was the problem. The news doesn't shock you as much as it makes the resentment that was building in the pit of your stomach boil over. Fuck your husband. Fuck your unhappy marriage. Fuck his insistence that a baby could fix something that neither of you really even wanted anymore.

"I do have another... I guess, like, problem," you say suddenly, before the 'appointment' ends and you have to go home to the shitty deadbeat waiting for you.

Art nods, brows furrowed in concern. He's a good doctor, he really is, even if he's definitely passed the threshold of a normal doctor/patient relationship.

"I just... I'm having trouble getting wet, when I'm with my husband." You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and let your words sink in. "Just... maybe you can just check and make sure nothing's wrong with me?"

That's how you wind up back on the table, feet in stirrups, gloved hands sliding your panties down your thighs. You shiver in the cold of examination room, goosebumps pebbling your flesh.

"Can I touch you?" He asks. His voice is barely above a whisper, gravelly with need, but it's so loud in the quiet of the close space.

"Yeah." The words escape you on an exhale, and you see the ghost of a smile on his lips as he moves his hands higher. You gasp as his gloved hand moves along the seam of your pussy, tracing the seam of you from your entrance to your clit.

His free hand rubs along your thigh— comforting, soothing. When you relax your thighs, he smiles. "There we go," he practically coos. "Just relax for me. I just need to check something."

His thumb rubs over your clit and you gasp. It wasn't a lie when you said you couldn't get wet for your husband, but with Art? It was fucking easy. You feel your body responding in earnest, cunt pulsing with need, dripping for him.

"See? You're perfect," his fingers tease over your entrance, collecting the arousal that pools there. "Your body works just like it needs to, for the right person."

#sighhhh #doctor!art au #it gets its own tag idgaf

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mintmatcha · 8 months ago

Text

Inevitable Things : chapter one

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in the first two chapters, sorry gang :)

masterlist | next chapter

Prome Medical Devices hired you as a personal assistant to the CEO, Toshinori Yagi, shortly after he was diagnosed with his second bout of prostate cancer and shortly before they learned it had metastasized to bone. It was a tragic, yet expected turn of events.The man had been sick most of his life, they told you, he's probably slept in hospital beds more times than he's slept in his own. It was, like most things, inevitable.

Over the following weeks, through chemo and taps and rotating hospital doors, he began working from home and handling only the absolute basics, and your silly assistant job evolved into more. You had only planned to stay for a couple months, but then another horrible thing happened.

You became Somehow Important.

Days went from scrolling on Twitter between writing notes to juggling everything that no one else could handle. Sitting in for meetings, handling calls, scheduling reviews and system checks, running to the pharmacy midday: there's nothing you haven't done. It’s a lot, but in the grand scheme of it all, it's nothing-- especially compared to the things that everyone else gets done here.

8:35am. The security man gives you a nod without checking for your badge. Engineers skitter around the office like cockroaches. It's always a good sign when no one immediately comes to find you; that means your boss is still alive and doing about the same as he was yesterday. No updates, you’ve found, are good. No one bothers to tell you when good things happen: you’re the fixer, the emergency contact. When you’re being informed of anything, it’s because someone else wants you to clean up the mess.

(The only exception is from the man himself. Toshinori sends you the best kind of updates; mundane things from his life that he needs to share, like pictures of his duck pond or his review of the new coffee shop in town. It’s enough to keep you going, even when the day absolutely blows. You only had a few months working directly with the man, but he was fond of you-- and everyone was fond of him.)

Outdated filaments thrum down the halls. Your heels click against the tile with every step, a slow march to another day of monotony, a kind of dread that not even your phone can distract you from. Because your position is rather undefined for the corporate world, your desk is in an awkward spot, sandwiched in the hall, equidistant from the engineering department, the CEO's office, and the coffee machine. In terms of convenience, it's lovely, but it also means you have nowhere to hide.

Before you can even make it to your desk, a young man pops into the way and heads straight for you, a bit too quickly to be passed off as casual. Your heart sinks, then you realize it's just one of the interns: a college kid who's clearly had too many energy drinks already.

“Hey,” Denki smiles with too much gum, so wide his cheeks almost swallow up his eyes. He’s a scruffy, dirty blonde, a patchy black streak on one side of his head. His button down is obviously unironed, so crumpled it almost looks like a pattern, matching perfectly with his untied tie. It’s a good thing that he’s cute; you doubt he’d have gotten this far in life if he wasn’t.

“Good morning, how are you? Have a good night? You look so pretty this morning. MILF town over here.” he says, twiddling the toe of his shoe into the carpet. “I made the pot of coffee for you,so you don’t have to worry about that-”

You cut him off. “What did you do?”

The interns don’t report to you. If anything, they run parallel to you. If there’s anyone they should be ass kissing, it should be the department head, not some personal assistant, but the group considers you an ally. Maybe even a friend.

“I wouldn’t say that it’s something that I did,” the boy explains. He sucks air in through his teeth. “It’s more like what I didn’t do.”

“Denki.”

“It’s just the reports! I have to submit them end of day and it’s just not--” He juts out his bottom lip. “Can you proof my work? Please? The Eraser’s going to have my head if I make another mistake.”

The lead engineer is infamous for deleting whole chunks of code that the interns have made and ruining months of their work. Last month it was Ochako's work, who then spent the rest of the day at your desk, sniffling. The four others were equally terrified of the man, constantly fretting and bitching about the ‘cruel working conditions.’ If Prome wasn't so prestigious (and internships weren't necessary for graduating) there’d be no interns left. You’re sure Eraser would prefer it that way.

“Please?” Denki clutches his hands together in prayer. “Please, please, please?”

You don't even pretend to hem and haw.

“Email it over before lunch.” you say and he lights up.

“Aw, you’re the best!” He turns away and practically skips down the hall. “I’m gonna drop off Izuku’s stuff too, okay?”

There’s no chance to say no before Denki’s gone. You flop into your chair and kick off your heels, trying to convince yourself that you don’t already regret saying yes. You catch your own appearance in the black screen of your computer. Makeup doesn’t do much to cover up the fact you’ve been crying. You can see it in your eyes, in the creases of your skin that you wish weren't there. Even as the screen lights up, you can still catch your own face, starting back with that sad, sad expression.

It's been mostly sleepless nights since Touya left, but you push through and ignore whatever you can. You miss your travel mug, the one that matched the coaster on your desk. You miss your forks, the ones that weren’t the awful ones from the thrift store down the road, bought solely out of panic when you returned to an empty apartment. Most of all, you miss him, how the apartment felt warmer with two bodies instead of one, and how secure you felt with someone who loves you.

Your screen loads and a big, red 24 flashes in the corner-- fuck, the works already piling up. You try to squish any thought of Touya’s disappearing act into the back of your head. Like a dog, Touya always comes back home to you. He just needs to be wild for a bit, play off leash, and then he’ll crawl back like always.

You check your phone. He’s still saved under “AVOID AT ALL COSTS” and the last five texts you sent are all unread. Your thumb hovers over the delete button for a moment; it’d be easier to cut him off and end this cycle. You can stop pushing the boulder up the hill, just for it to tumble back down again. You could pursue someone else, maybe someone nice or smart or at least not rude-

Focus. Compliance is raising concerns about the new platform and manufacturing has CC'ed you into an issue about screw heads, two things that you know nothing about. You flip your phone over and push through. What’s the difference between a hex and a truss and why should you care?

11:59. You’re none the wiser about either topic, but the dust seems to be settling and everyone seems to be happy enough. Denki’s reports are an absolute mess, bad to the point you start to wonder if he even tried. The pages aren't even formatted correctly, so it’s going to take most of your lunch to iron out the wrinkles. Luckily, Izuku is a bit more competent and his tasks look great, so-

“Oh, baby girl!”

You stop typing and sit straight up to peer over your computer screen, hiding the remnants of your microwaved lunch. With arms raised high and dressed in his finest ironed button down, Yamada Hizashi enters. Tall, blonde, thin, and leggy: Hizashi would have been a Victoria’s Secret model if he wasn’t a man. His long hair is tied back into a messy bun, a couple of loose tendrils floating around his face in an effortlessly, annoyingly charming way as he marshes straight for you.

“Let me see ‘em!” he demands loudly, a smile on his face and his hands on his hips. “Come on, baby. You know what I want.”

If it was anyone else, you’d think the man was a creep, but Hizashi is just so earnest about the way he lights up a room. With a belabored sigh and a grin, you roll your chair back a bit and stick your leg to the side to reveal your pink, fluffy slippers. The man claps his hands together and laughs a deep, hearty chuckle, genuinely bemused.

The bunny slippers had started as a secret. The original dress code had required women to wear heels to work, which was fine, until the back of your feet became nothing but blisters. To give yourself some respite during the day, you had hidden a pair of slippers under your desk, just a little treat to make it through the day. It seemed like a genius idea-

Until the day the fire alarm went off. In the surprise, you had forgotten to change your shoes back, and proceeded to spend the next half an hour outside with the entire company in your violently pink shoes.

Luckily, everyone thought it was pretty funny.

Especially Hizashi.

“Seeing my work wife is the best part of the week.”

You throw a hand over your heart and gasp, trying to hold back your smile. “Only your work wife?”

“Oh, babygirl, I’d marry you in an instant.” He leans over your desk with another sigh, this one heavier. “I’d make you the trophy wife you were born to be.”

“Cool it, Mic.” Your heart sinks a bit at the voice. “HR is going to have your head if you aren’t careful.”

Aizawa “The Eraser” Shouta makes his third appearance at the coffee machine this morning. He’s an average sized man, if not slightly short, with dark hair and the beginnings of a salt and pepper beard. The muscles in his jaw flex whenever he looks your way, almost as if he’s chewing away his annoyance. The most notable thing about him is a scar on his high cheek bone, long healed and silver in the light. He sits his coffee cup - a beat to shit Stanley thermos from long before they were cool- under the tap and lets the java pour, that sour expression never leaving his face.

Aizawa has worked here since the beginning. As one of the founding members of Prome and a lead engineer, he’s had his hands in absolutely every machine the company has produced, and yet he carries himself with none of the pomp and circumstance he deserves. Instead of abiding by the strict dress code, he wears a bright yellow sweatshirt that has an obvious coffee stain on the pocket. It’d be charming if he wasn’t an infamous dick. The two of you rarely interact, despite the fact he visits the coffee station next to your desk multiple times a day, offering you no more than a nod most days. The interns are terrified of him-- and rightly so. You’re also scared of him. You’ve never met anyone else as tightly wound or as obsessed with work as him; there’s a rumor that he even sleeps here some days.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hizashi says. “He’s just jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, I’m protecting the company from potential litigation when bunny slippers over here-” he juts a chin your way- “ decides your flirting isn’t fun anymore.”

You knew he wasn’t jealous. It’s an open secret that Aizawa doesn’t like you very much. Unlike any other of the department heads, he never allocates you work or stops by to chat. There was even a rumor that he wanted to eliminate your position last year; you wouldn’t care so much if he didn’t have the power and sway to make that happen.

Hizashi pops a hip to the side. He isn’t afraid of anyone it seems; he even claims to be the man’s friend after hours.“Would you rather me go back to flirting with you?”

Aizawa stares back, only the trickle of coffee echoing in the hall. Finally, when it almost reaches the top, he shuts it off and glares. “You’re not even supposed to be in office today, Mic.”

Hizashi had always been the most notable salesman in the company, but once the CEO’s health went downhill, he had taken over a lot of the speaking roles as well. Interviews, speeches, and the like: Toshinori Yagi had dubbed him Mr. Microphone and the name had just stuck. From what you can tell, he’s actually pretty close with Aizawa and the other founding members outside of work as well.

“I have a quick meeting with the marketing gals in a couple minutes,” Hizashi explains. He brings his attention back to you, brows waggling. Fuck- you know what he’s about to say.

“And I wanted to wish my wife an early happy birthday.”

Oh, god. Your face flushes with heat-- you had hoped he had forgotten that. You glance over to Aizawa, who seems more interested than usual.

“It's tomorrow,” you explain. He nods curtly.

“Our office darling is going to be thirty, flirty and feeling fine!” Mic explains further. Ugh. You wish he didn't sound so happy about it. When you think about it for too long, turning thirty feels like the end of the world, an evil you just can't avoid. It's better than the alternative, you guess.

“Are you and the boyfriend planning on a romantic night?”

A second gut punch of a statement.

“Oh, no, I’m just-- he--” You almost get emotional for a moment. Thirty years old and single: it feels like the end of the world for some reason. Everyone else is getting married or having kids or living some dream life. Fuck-- even two of the goddammit interns are engaged and they're practically babies! At this point, you might as well give up and die alone; no one else is ever going to want you, are they?

The glimpse of Aizawa in the corner, watching you with those judgemental eyes, sobers you up quickly.

“We broke up, so I’m just staying in.”

The two snap their heads towards each other. Mic waggles his eyebrows, not so subtly gesturing to a non receptive Aizawa. You know that look, the excitement and relief. It’s not a secret that no one really liked Touya-- people have been openly voicing their contempt for years. He wasn’t a bad guy, except for the times he was, but people only ever remembered the bad things.

“Oh, is it…?” Mic bites back his words, debating how harsh he should be. “Is it for real this time?”

Touya always comes back. Everyone knows the routine by now.

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m done with him.”

“Good.” Aizawa says. You grimace at that; even he knows? You didn’t know he paid attention to anything outside of work, let alone your shitty interpersonal drama.

“More than good. Amazing! Spectacular! I’m so, so, so proud of you!” Mic adds on and you pretend it doesn’t bother you. It’s strange; the more others despise him, the more your heart aches. Touya needs you and you need him; who else will have him?

Who else will have you?

“That means we can go out for drinks to celebrate!”

“Oh, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that.”

“Too late, nope. We’re having a two-for-one birthday single bash tomorrow.” He’s on his phone, typing wildly. “I hope you have something pretty to wear because I’m going to show you how you deserve to be treated.”

Fuck. You’d rather be alone, sniveling and waiting for Touya’s return in your apartment, but Hizashi is smiling. His intentions are good; it’d be cruel to deny him.

“Nemuri knows some awesome spots-” The man is a whirl, typing and talking and walking. “You better get excited, baby girl.”

“Oh, yay,” you offer weakly. Hizashi isn’t listening anymore; he’s caught up in his own plans, briskly walking down the hall. A breath you didn’t know you were holding sneaks out and you slump back down to your seat.

“You really don’t have to let him walk all over you like that,” Aizawa says. He swirls his cup slowly, watching the rim.

You try to offer the man a smile, but you can tell it looks forced. Sure, Hizashi can be a lot, but he just wants to help, as misguided as that urge is.

“It’s okay.” When he doesn’t look convinced, you add. “Really.”

“Are you sure?” he presses, voice tight.

“Mhm.” You return to your keyboard and start typing, hoping that he understands the social cue. “Thanks though.”

Thankfully, he lets it go. Turning down the hall, he starts to sip his coffee, but then freezes mid stride.

“You make this?”

“No.”

“I can tell,” Aizawa says, examining his cup. “It’s fucking dog water.”

That comment is so off kilter that you can’t help but snort. Aizawa watches you for a beat more, maybe bemused, maybe not, then nods. With that, he leaves, an empty coffee pot in his wake. Another item to add on your growing list.

The rest of the day goes by quicker than you need it to. Denki leaves a little bit after lunch for a doctor’s appointment and the rest of the workforce trickles out after. The head of development, Nezu, has you run through potential presentations before you follow up on compliance’s worries again. The coffee pot was refilled four more times, all by you, and your messages to Touya still sit delivered and unread. Two hours after the work day was supposed to end, you slip your heels back on. Denki’s files are pretty much unrecognizable now, but that’s a good thing. All of the college students are intelligent and more accomplished than you’ll ever be, but you’re not sure why they can’t figure out basic busy work. There’s nothing hard about it, other than focusing.

With a final press of a key, your personal printer hums to life. A staple and a paperclip and you’re done: now it’s just a quick trip to engineering and you can finally go home. Your work isn't physical, but God, hunching at a desk all day takes a toll on your body. A flare of something eats at your lower back as you stroll the empty building and try to rub the grit from your eyes. You think there’s a frozen pizza at home or maybe some pasta-- though, you can’t remember if that was from this monday or last monday. Maybe it’d be safer to just throw it away.

The department itself is a long row of cubicles, with miscellaneous machines and computers littering the other side of the room. You recognize old prototypes and parts of Prome's most famous product: a hospital bed.

Before you had set foot in this building, you never thought a bed could count as a medical device -- or as something highly complicated and thoroughly engineered -- but this bed is different. It’s comfortable, lightweight, and durable, all while able to track a patient’s movement and comfort. It even records a patient's glucose, body temperature, SPO2, and many other medical things that go over your head. When used correctly, bedsores rates have been reduced to nearly zero and hospital related illnesses are caught significantly earlier.

In about three months, the newest model will be released, complete with full integration into electronic record systems. If everything goes according to plan, it’ll be revolutionary. Working here is a headache, but you do take pride that it's a company that does good.

“Do you need something?”

You jump at the sound of the voice, flipping around to search the room. Tucked at the end of it all is an open office door. Inside, Aizawa is perched at his desk, head in one hand, reading glasses in the other. He’s illuminated only by the computer screen, his deep, dark eyes bouncing side to side as he carefully reads.

Aizawa always looks tired, but now so especially; his heavy lidded eyes are drooped with fatigue and his skin is pallor, black stubble dusting his unshaved cheeks. There’s no bite or annoyance to his voice-- maybe even a little levity. For once, you don’t want to scurry away from him like a mouse, hiding in the shadows and corners to avoid his claws. You still approach cautiously, heels sharp against the tile. The silence in between each hit makes your skin prick with an unknown nausea.

“I thought everyone went home.” You say.

“Everyone did. Just me-- and you, apparently.” He taps out a word or two. His office is devoid of personal items, desk covered in nothing but stacks of papers and illegible post notes, nothing to hint to his personal life. It’s been three years, yet you have no idea what his personal life is like-- if he even has one, that is.

“No slippers tonight?”

That was either a dig or a joke. You aren’t sure either way, but the way your shoes sound when you walk even closer feels like its own answer. When you reach the corner of his desk, he finally looks your way. It hits you that you've never actually been this close to him before. It's always been passes in the hall and distant conversations. His skin is smoother than you'd thought it'd be, with creases between his brow that fill themselves when he-

“Do you… need something?”

“Oh, uh-- Denki left these at my desk by accident,” you lie, sliding the file on to the corner of his desk. “I think they’re for you.”

He regards you again, more thoroughly this time. With a tilt of his head, he inspects your face, eyes flickering between your two. In the dim, they’re nothing but black dots, an inkinesss that you could fall into if you were any closer.

He’s pretty. And that’s an unsettling thought. You’ve never allowed yourself to consider that before. Immediately, you walk the thought back. No. Nobody with his personality is attractive-- hands down. Touya is the only dick you need in your life.

“You should go home. It's late.” he says before turning back to his work. He types a couple things, then hits the backspace and deletes it all again. “Go home.”

Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you sigh, the workday catching up to you. “You should too.”

“Hm,” he grunts. He takes a long sip from his thermos, tipping it back to suck the dregs. You’d never noticed the sticker of the bottom before- a faded and torn image of an orange cat. “Maybe.”

That’s a no. You don’t push the issue. You start towards the door, then pause.

“Do… do you want me to make another pot of coffee before I go?” You’re not sure why you offer. Everything’s been put away and cleaned for tomorrow. It’d take at least 15 minutes to set up again.

Aizawa slides his glasses back on, adjusting them by the bridge, only for them to slip right back down the flat bridge of his nose.

“You don't have to do that.”

With that you leave, no proper goodnight dismissing you. The tap of your heels and the clack of his keyboard mix into some sort of soft, unbalanced rhythm. Despite yourself, you think of Touya, of where he is and where he isn’t. Is it also quiet there? Has he thought of someone else in the same way you just did?

When the doors of the building close and the security guard nods your way, the sound of percolation echoes behind you, the final drops falling into a freshly brewed pot.

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sinkdownbeneath · 1 year ago

Text

“Fine By Me.”

Pairing - Daryl Dixon x Trans Masc Reader

Warnings - Talk of drug use, illness, needles, identity, possible transphobia.

Setting - S4 Prison

Summary - Daryl thinks you’re doing drugs, but ends up learning something new about you.

Type - Fluff

A/N: this is my first published fic!! i have briefly proofread, and i’m pretty happy with it. hope you enjoy :)

You sat on the edge of the bed in your cell, positioning the needle over your thigh, gripping at your flesh trying to gauge where to inject yourself. your palms were sweaty and you couldn’t get a good grip on the syringe, with Hershel in Block A, treating the prison flu, you had nobody to do this for you. Hershel had told you the week prior that he would be going to take care of the sick, and he took extra steps in showing you how to inject your medication, but this was the first time you had tried on your own, it was proving difficult.

You took a breath and widened your eyes, grabbing your skin and moving your face closer, trying to get the needle in the perfect spot before you pushed it in, ‘just do it, idiot’ you thought to yourself.

You heard a scoff and jumped, looking up with a surprised expression, Daryl stood at your door, holding the curtain you had put up against the frame.

“Didn’t take you for a fuckin’ junkie.” He said, a scowl across his face.

“What? No! I-“ you began,

“I don’ wanna hear it.” Daryl said, starting to turn away and leave.

“Daryl!” you jump towards him, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around, he looked taken aback, offended, you weren’t sure, but before he could do or say anything, you grabbed his arm and yanked him into your cell, peering your head around the curtain to check nobody else was witness.

You held the syringe in front of his face, waving it as you annunciated “This is not heroin,” in a whisper-shout.

He looked puzzled and almost like he was challenging you, as if he was asking ‘oh yeah? what is it then?’.

“I am not a junkie, this is my medication! Now if you would give me a hand with sticking it in my thigh I would be grateful.”

You spoke to him in such a way he stood speechless for a moment, like he was a child who just got an angry finger waved in his face for his attitude.

“Well?” You ask, impatiently.

He flushed red for a moment and sheepishly nodded, taking the syringe from your hand, you sat back down and rolled your trouser leg back up, exposing the piercing site, jab marks from the previous weeks lingering.

Daryl sat beside you, needle in hand, inspecting it, and just as you thought he was about to stick you with it, he hesitated.

“Just lemme see whatever you put in here, I don’t wanna be responsible for nothin’.”

It was your turn to hesitate, you scoffed and looked at him, gauging whether he meant it or not, whether he really needed to see why you were secretly medicating yourself every week, when his expression didn’t falter, you reached into the box under your bed, and pulled out the small vial containing your lifeline.

You placed it into his hand, avoiding all eye contact, this man was the one you worried about telling, he wasn’t as loud as Merle was about his opinions, but they were brothers, they were hicks, surely they had their opinion in common?

He rolled the vial in his palm, exposed the small text written on the label, and brought it up to his eye. The bottle read ‘TESTOSTERONE’ in a bold font. Daryl studied it before peering over the bottle and into your eyes, he looked at you almost knowingly, his eyes told you that it was okay, you were okay.

This was the softest look Daryl had ever given you, he had just said so much more with his eyes than you had ever heard from his mouth, it meant a lot.

He gave the bottle back to you, and took the syringe between his teeth, using one hand to move your trouser leg up, and the other to grip a chunk of your flesh, rolling it between the tips of his fingers until the chunk felt right, he took his hand from your trousers and retrieved the needle from his mouth, poking it into you, and pressing down on the plunger at a slow pace.

You watched him, how he nibbled on his lip and furrowed his brow in concentration, how gently he treated you, you watched as he handled you with such care, you looked so deeply into him that you didn’t even realise he had removed the needle. The sudden sound it made when he tossed it onto the table next to your bed startled you awake from your trance, and you found yourself staring at the side of Daryl’s face, his cheeks flushed and his eyes darting to all places other than your eyes.

“Sorry.” You said, he nodded.

“Thank you for doing that.”

“S’alright.”

The silence was so loud.

“How did you learn to do that?” You asked, breaking the silence so suddenly you caught yourself off guard.

“Do wha’?” he questioned, raising a brow and looking at you through his fringe,

“Inject, it seemed like you knew what to do.”

He nibbled on his lower lip again, looking around the room, as if he was trying to find the words.

“My Mama,” he replied, “before the fire, before everythin’, she was sick, I had to give her her medicine sometimes, she was in a lot of pain, kept her in bed all day, smokin’, readin’ her magazines, Merle took care of her when he wasn’t at Dad’s, but sometimes I had ta.”

He kept his eyes on the ground before timidly looking toward you, you looked at eachother for a moment, before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight, you were telling him it was okay, you were thanking him for not freaking out over you being trans. You were very private about your identity before the world fell, and you thought you would have to be the same now, you had told Hershel very reluctantly, but he told you that God loved you, and that he accepted you, and now Daryl knew, and he treated you with more care and understanding than before. You thought maybe your family, your new, found family, would be okay with it too.

Daryl wrapped his arms around you, and squeezed before pulling away from the hug and standing up by the door.

“Gotta go, Rick needs help with the fence.” he told you, punctuating his sentence with a half smile.

“Okay.”

He turned away and lifted the curtain.

“Daryl?”

“Mm?” He hummed.

“Thank you, I thought-“ You began,

“I know what it’s like. Feelin’ like you don’t belong. What you’re doin’, who you are, is fine by me.”

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x male reader #daryl dixon x trans reader #daryl dixon x trans masc reader #twd daryl #twd fic #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon fanfiction #i love daryl dixon #norman reedus #the walking dead fic #transmasc #daryl dixon fluff

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https-alberich · 3 months ago

Text

CW: Discriptions of gore. Bullying. Reader discretion is advised.

Notes: Guys my yandere sim(?) is going to begin soon!! Check it out on @killingfor-you.

“Think fast bitch.” A venomous voice dripped nothing but liquid malice as the bully cornered you after school. “Shoulder. Don’t make me say it again.” He said dryly, watching as you nervously undid a few buttons of your uniform, exposing your shoulder to the delinquent.

He grinned, dragging his tongue over the tips of his teeth. “Good bitch.” You knew better than to refuse him. The consequences that came after denying him what he wanted were far worse then what he usually had in store for you.

He knew you didn’t care for your own health, and while that did give him a twinge of sympathy, hurting you, playing around with you - the delinquent had a social reputation to uphold.

The feeling of a cigarette being put out on our skin made you wince but you knew better than to voice your annoyance. You didn’t want him to grow even more angry at you, it was obvious that he needed to vent out some emotions and whenever he did, he would slink over to you and make your life a living hell. The boy in question growled, grabbing your shoulder - making you wince - before shoving you aside. “See ya later bitch.” He hissed, smirking.

Like he knew he wasn’t done with you.

And even if him tormenting you was sometimes literal hell on earth, you knew in some sick twisted fucked up way, he wouldn’t hurt hurt you. He just… expressed his love for you in strange ways.

–

Abel winced as you fretted over him, wiping his nose of blood - that continued to spill despite your best efforts - as you carefully pressed an ice pack to his busted and bleeding lip.

Your eyes were determined and careful to avoid hurting Abel any further.

He looked confused and slightly annoyed at your worrying, despite telling you multiple times that he really didn’t need you poking around at his face with a bottle of medical alcohol in your hands.

He would’ve been grateful if he wasn’t so fucking confused. Why were so lenient when it came to him tossing you around like his personal plaything, but the minute he comes over with the slight amount of blood on his face, you’re fretting over his well being, making sure he’s okay.

Abel grunted, pushing you away. “I fucking told you- I’m fine! You don’t have to treat me like a little kid- I swear-” He sighed, exasperated. “You gotta fucking fight back one day or you;re gonna get yourself killed.” He whispered, looking slightly worried as he met your eyes.

You frowned, this sort of vulnerability was rare in Abel, your boyfriend was tough, and unforgiving. And mean, and annoying and now he was… being nice..?

“I get that you don’t care about yourself but fuck- you can’t just anyone treat you the way I do- fuck- you shouldn’t let me treat you the way I do!” He shook his head, conttinuing his monologuing, “The world isn’t full of sunshines and rainbows-” He exhaled. “The asshole I beat up after school. Do you remember him? From Biology.”

He gripped his bedsheets in a tight fist, his breathing coming out heavy, like the mere memory of the sound of his fist connecting with the other student’s face was making him angry again. “The cunt had the fucking adacity to put his filthy fucking hands on my bitch! Do you understand how fucking pissed I am I-” He gripped at his hair and groaned, glaring at you when you pulled his hand away from his black locks. “Fuck… just…. If anyone’s giving you shit. Lemme know.” He grumbled, defeated, as he pushed the medical kit aside.

“I need a fucking smoke.” He groaned, getting up, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. “C’mon.” He nodded to his balcony. “I need to stop fuckin’ thinkin’ for thirty minutes.” Abel shook his head and sighed.

Taglist: @mono273

#🔪 . . . [save] . .#yandere oc #yandere #yandere boy #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere boyfriend #yandere x darling #yandere scenarios #yandere male #male yandere #yanblr #darling x yandere #desperate yandere #tw yandere #x reader #yandere delinquent

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mandos-mind-trick · 1 year ago

Text

Healing Touch

Summary: It's ironic that your soulmate would be the one to save your life after sharing a pain connection with him. After the base you work at is attacked, you meet your soulmate, a loyal, dedicated clone who is willing to do anything to keep you two together.

Pairing: Kix x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, Kix is a freak, cum eating, oral, lots of discussion of pain and injuries, reader gets a really bad injury, life threatening injuries, blood, brief gore, medical stuff, soulmate AU, bad jokes.

A/N: I kinda hate this one but here you go. A surprise update to this series. I feel bad about not posting anything in a bit so I wrote some stuff. Also kind of inspired by a thread about friends of nurses who say they're a bunch of freaks. I'll let that speak for itself.

MASTERLIST

Pain is nothing new to Kix.

Though he’s usually the one treating others in pain, he’s had his fair share of injuries as well. Being in active combat had its risks, and he often witnessed them firsthand. He was also used to phantom pains that seemed to plague him every so often. Pain in his fingers and hands, like burns or the dull ache after pinching your finger between something. There were occasional deeper pains and aches, but after the war started it got harder and harder to determine which ones were his and which weren’t.

His soulmate link, he had figured out quickly after a panicked scan to make sure he wasn’t injured, or perhaps defective and suffering from some ailment they were supposed to be immune to.

It was ironic, really, that his soulmate link would be pain. Each soulmate feels the phantom pain of the others injuries. Though he had avoided some nasty injuries, he still feels bad for his soulmate. Not that they weren’t also constantly getting hurt as well, but theirs were more small pains than anything. In the rare moments when he wasn’t busy, he liked to try and picture what had happened, what they could be doing.

It’s what keeps him sane when the missions get bad, when they go wrong, when he has to look past his brothers' suffering as he tries to save them.

He often worries in the dead of night. What if something happens to his soulmate? Are they involved in the war? What if their planet gets attacked and no one’s there to help? Sometimes he lays there and waits for the inevitable excruciating pain of a fatal wound, or the blinding pain of losing his soulmate. He worries about something happening to him as well. He doesn’t want to do that to his soulmate. He’d watched far too many troopers die, far too many leaving their soulmates without ever having the chance to meet them.

It happens one day, when his worst nightmares come to life.

They had just finished a hard won campaign against the Separatists and Kix was still hard at work in the med-bay patching up those who were less severely injured. It takes him a moment to realize what’s happening, a strange feeling blossoming in his right side below his ribs.

Then the pain hits him.

He doubles over, barely catching himself on the gurney Fives was seated on.

“Kix,” Fives puts a hand on his shoulder. “You alright?”

Kix grits his teeth, trying to breathe through the sharp, stabbing pain in his right side. Had he been injured and not noticed until now as his adrenaline begins to crash? He can’t feel anything on his side, no wound, no blood, nothing. Had he taken a hit and not noticed?

“Come on,” Fives says, slipping an arm around his shoulders. “You don’t look too good.”

He was supposed to be checking Fives for a concussion, but instead here he is being escorted onto an empty gurney by his patient. A droid runs a scan, checking everything but there’s nothing. Still, the pain burns through him, sharp and stabbing with every breath in.

It’s not him.

It’s his soulmate.

Many things begin to rush through his head. Had something happened? Is it some sort of organ failure, perhaps? With the pain where it is, it could be any number of things. An injury? Illness? Are they getting help? Can they get help?

A comforting hand on his shoulder brings him back from his racing thoughts. Fives knows. Most of the squad knows. They trusted each other on the battlefield, and with their deepest secrets. He presses his hand into his side, taking a deep breath. He wishes he could ease the pain even a little.

The doors slide open, Rex stepping in.

“Kix, Fives, we need every able bodied trooper ready for a debrief in ten minutes.” He says.

“What’s going on?” Fives asks. “We just finished a campaign.”

“We’re being rerouted.” Rex says. “There was an attack on a base nearby. They need as many hands as they can get.”

Kix tries not to let his thoughts take over as he rouses every physically able trooper. He can’t think about his soulmate right now. He has a job to do.

***

Kix’s hands are shaking. He rarely lets himself get affected by the injuries he sees. He’s seen a lot, he has been trained to see a lot. Combat medics see the worst of things, and they weren’t supposed to break. They had to be prepared for anything. Calm under intense pressure, stable enough to be quick thinkers and ready to take charge if needed.

The carnage left from the attack is some of the worst he’s seen.

These weren’t just clones.

There are civilians.

Most of them are civilians. Engineers and mechanics employed by the GAR. Clone armor wasn’t impenetrable, but it offered a lot of protection against injuries and wounds. He’d seen clones survive what should have been a fatal shot because of their armor. Civilians don’t have armor. Most of them don’t see combat so there was no point to them wearing armor. Most of them stayed on bases, safe from the danger of combat.

At least, the bases are supposed to be safe.

The 18th Battalion had arrived shortly before them and had already begun locating and treating survivors. They were already working to stabilize those in the worst condition to shuttle them to the cruisers to get more intensive care.

There’s still civilians inside.

Most of the troopers were working their way through the ruins of the base, searching for more survivors. Most of them had been accounted for. Either managing to escape harm, or were already being treated. There were still many that were still missing. Kix knows trying to find all of them is impossible, but they had confirmed areas where there were injured civilians still, or they had heard voices calling out for help.

“This thing could collapse any minute.” Crash says as the mangled roof groans dangerously above them.

“There’s one right up ahead.” Kix says, staring at the map.

Something falls off in the distance, the crash echoing through the air before it settles. Both troopers share a look before pressing forward, stepping carefully. Kix’s side still aches, pain still burning through him, but he pushes onward. He has a job to do. He can only hope his soulmate is alright.

There’s nothing he can do to help.

He moves forward with Crash, stepping around a piece of collapsed roof. The civilian marked on the map is right there, sitting against a piece of still-intact wall. It doesn’t take Kix long to figure out why no one has helped her yet. A piece of rebar has impaled her through her right side.

She’s still awake, wide eyed and breathing shallowly. One look at her eyes tells Kix she’s in shock. She’s soaked in sweat and pale, blood staining her light blue shirt. He kneels down in front of her, taking a quick scan. She’s uninjured aside from the rebar, which has gone straight through her and into the wall behind her.

“What’s your name?” He asks her.

She tells him, her voice weak and shaky.

“We’re going to get you out of here.” He says, the pain in his side increasing as Crash moves her just slightly to check how stuck the rebar is in the wall.

His eyes widen beneath his helmet and he stares at her for a moment. Where the rebar is in her side is almost exactly where the pain is on his side. It couldn’t be...could it?

“There’s no way of moving her without removing it.” Crash says.

Kix sighs. He knows moving her at all is going to be excruciating. He takes a second to assess things and calm himself before doing what he does best and takes charge. “We can’t risk removing it. She’ll bleed out before we can get her out of here. Is there enough room to cut it back there?”

“Barely.” Crash says. “It’ll be close.”

“We have to try.” Kix says.

Kix kneels in front of her, bending her top half forward just slightly, until he can feel the pain of the rebar moving inside of her. He lets her rest against his shoulder, her hands weakly lifting to cling to his arms as Crash cuts through the rebar behind her.

He doesn’t need to guess to know how much pain she’s in. He can feel it. He has no doubt he’s right in front of his soulmate. Oh how he wishes they’d met in a different way. It was ironic, though, that he’d be the one saving his soulmate’s life. He’s determined to do everything in his power to save her.

She cries out as the rebar jostles free, pain radiating through Kix as well. He breathes steadily, trying to comfort her as best he can. The pain begins to numb, her hands slipping from his arms. He pushes her so she’s sitting up slightly, hands cupping her cheeks.

“Hey,” He pats her face gently, her eyes fluttering. “Stay with me.”

Her eyes flutter before they crack open, staring at him blankly. He takes in their color, trying to memorize her face.

“Let's get her on the stretcher and onto a shuttle.” Kix says, forcing himself back into his roll. He needs to get her into a surgical pod sooner rather than later.

Navigating the building is hard as they carry the stretcher, Crash talking to her to try and keep her awake. He can barely hear her responses, and later Crash would tell him she was speaking nonsense. He’s not entirely sure she even knew what was happening.

They get her loaded onto a shuttle, Kix having to watch it fly away the hardest thing he’s had to do. He wanted to be there, wanted to stay by her side, wanted to make sure she was going to be alright, that they got to her in time. He would know if she died, if he had failed.

He shakes those thoughts from his mind, jumping back in to help the other injured civilians.

***

Your head is throbbing when you wake. You feel like you’ve swallowed sand, your mouth and throat dry and aching. There’s beeping around you, and a harsh sterile scent burns your nose. Something flashes behind your eyes and you force them open, blinking against the bright lights.

Something presses against your shoulders, keeping you still as you try to shift into a more comfortable position. Pain shoots through your right side, stealing your breath for a moment.

“Easy.” A voice says above you. You know that voice. “Didn’t think you’d be up so soon.”

You blink blearily up at the figure standing over you. Your vision is still blurry, your mind trying to catch up. You’re disoriented, feeling far away from your body.

“Here,” Something cold and wet touches your lips. “Drink.”

You drink through the straw, cold water hitting your dry mouth. You drink greedily, feeling refreshed as the sandy feeling in your mouth begins to disappear.

“Bacta makes my mouth feel dry too.”

You turn your head to look at the person standing next to you. He’s a clone, you can tell that much as your vision begins to clear. That’s why you recognize his voice. You’re no stranger to clones after working for the GAR for two years.

You press the heel of your hand into your forehead, closing your eyes. “Where am I?” You murmur, not even sure actual words come out.

“On a cruiser, heading for a medical station. Do you remember what happened?” He asks slowly.

You think for a moment. Do you remember? “It was a normal day at work.” You start, walking yourself through your day. “I was working on an attack shuttle. I had gone to grab a different tool when...” Horrible images flash through your mind. You remember being thrown, heat washing over you. Something hitting you, or you hitting something. Pain. You remember pain.

Something beeps rapidly beside you, the clone putting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s alright. The base was attacked.” He explains. “You were injured badly. I was one of the ones that got you out. I wanted to come and check, make sure you were alright.”

You stare at him, taking him in. His head is buzzed, lightning bolts shaved into the short buzzed hair. There’s a tattoo on the side of his head, but you can’t see all of it from this angle. He’s handsome, as you thought most clones were. His armor is painted blue with the medic’s symbol on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” You say, staring up into his brown eyes. “For saving me.”

He smiles softly, running a hand over his head. “Well, it is my job. And I wasn’t about to let anything happen to my soulmate.”

You stare at him blankly, taking in his words. Soulmate?

“You have a pain link, right?” He asks, looking so hopeful.

You nod slowly, still trying to process his words. You had tried not to think too much about your soulmate. Your link had appeared later than you expected, little pains here and there, that blossomed into harsher ones more often. You wondered about your soulmate and if they were alright, until the war started. You had heard about people discovering their soulmates were clones and that’s why their links had shown up later.

You haven't put much thought into it. You were destined to meet eventually, and you trusted it would happen. You had been more focused on leaving home, on building your career.

He grabs a small needle pulling off his glove before pricking his finger with it. You feel the sharp pinch on your own finger, lifting your hand to stare at it.

Nothing.

No mark.

No blood.

You let your hand drop slowly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“My name’s Kix.” He says. “Medic with the 501st Legion.”

You tell him your name, introducing yourself with your status as a civilian engineer.

“I didn’t think this was how we were going to meet.” He says. “I’ve been waiting for this for a while.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. You knew about clones, about the rules around soulmates. That’s partially why you refused to think too much about it. You don’t want to be rejected. You’re not sure you can handle that. “A-Aren’t you supposed to-”

“Technically.” He says, cutting you off with a grin. “Most of us don’t follow those rules.”

You stare at him for a moment. “But...”

“If all of us followed every rule, we probably would have lost the war already.” He leans against the side of the bed. “There’d be a lot fewer of us, anyway.”

Your brain feels like it's moving in slow motion. “So...you’re not going to reject me?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “No. Not unless you want me to.”

You shake your head. “No, no. I just...didn’t expect...”

“I know it’s a lot. Especially after what just happened.” Kix says. “I just wanted you to know since we’ll be leaving after everyone’s offloaded at the medical station. I didn’t want to miss this chance in case we don’t cross paths again.”

Right. Their only job was getting you to the medical station. They still had a war to fight, so naturally they’d be leaving off to their next battle. You’re not sure where you’re going to end up now that the base you had been stationed at is gone. The chances of you two crossing paths again is slim, but you were soulmates for a reason.

You take his bare hand, squeezing it gently. You can feel it, the flow of energy between you two. His calloused fingers wrap around yours, and you try to memorize just how his skin feels against yours. “We’ll meet again.” You say, staring at your hands. “We are soulmates after all.”

He smiles, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “You’re right. I just hope it’s under better circumstances.”

You can’t help but smile. “I hope so too. I’d be happy if I never had to go through that again.”

***

Your name is called as you make your way down the hallway.

After your brief stay at the medical station, you had been sent back to Coruscant to the GAR headquarters to await reassignment. You assumed you’d be staying on Coruscant, since the war was heating up and a bunch of dead civilian workers wasn’t exactly a good look.

You turn, one of the lead engineers walking up to you.

“I have your orders for your reassignment.” She says, handing you a datapad. “You’re loading up with the 501st when they arrive.”

“The 501st?” Your eyebrows lift in surprise.

“I hear they asked for you directly.” She says.

Your brows furrow. Kix was assigned to the 501st. Had he managed to pull some strings without giving anything away? You couldn’t risk revealing anything, not with the GAR directly involved. So how had he done it?

They arrive a few hours later. You’re patiently waiting on the airfield among crates of supplies to be loaded on. The venator cruiser kicks up a breeze as it lands, truly an engineering marvel. A huge floating city, capable of housing thousands. Ships weren’t your specialty, but you often found yourself working on their communication systems. You had been fixing one in a shuttle when the base was attacked.

You wait for the offloading of troops and supplies, heading into the ship as troopers begin moving supplies on. You look around the hangar, likely where you’ll spend most of your time. Shuttles and cruisers, and all other sorts of vehicles.

You eventually find the lead engineer, getting a tour and introduction to the cruiser. You had only been on one briefly, most of your knowledge about them being learned virtually during training. You had spent more time learning about the clone’s armor and how to fix any sort of malfunction or damage that may be caused. The functionality of their armor is essential, especially their helmets.

You’re eager to see Kix again. You want to know just how he’d managed to get you assigned to his battalion. You can’t be conspicuous, though. Even at this proximity, you still have to be careful. If the wrong person found out, it would spell disaster for both of you.

You’re checking through one of the supply rooms when he finds you. Your first task with the 501st had been to restock and organize the supplies getting loaded onto the ship. It was a typical task for a newbie, since you’d need to learn the layout of the supply room and where things are located in case you need them in a pinch.

“Hello, mesh’la.”

You nearly jump out of your skin as the deep voice breaks the silence of the supply closet. You spin around, finding Kix leaning against one of the shelves behind you. You hadn’t even heard him come in. That was precisely why you weren’t a soldier.

“Kix!” You put a hand on your chest. “You scared me!”

He grins. “Sorry. Thought you heard me come in.”

You shake your head. “I was too focused, I guess.”

“It’s good to see you.” He says, stepping closer. “I missed you.”

It has been a few weeks since you’ve seen him. You’ve missed him too. You’d felt it, the longing deep in your soul for its other half. The distance, the lack of contact had begun to eat at you. It’s easing now with him so close. Even though you’ve just been reunited, your entire body is already relaxing.

“I missed you too.” You say, stepping closer to him.

He pushes the cart out of the way, stepping up right in front of you. You stare up at him, his fingers grazing over your side. “How do you feel?”

“Completely healed.” You say with a smile. “Hardly more than a scar left.”

“Good.” He says, wrapping his arms around you. You’ve never been this close to him before, but it feels right. “I hated feeling you in pain.”

“I hated being in pain.” You reply, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Though, whatever you did to your foot a week ago, that sucked.”

He grins sheepishly. “Would you believe me if I told you that was a box of medical supplies?”

You stare at him for a moment. “No.”

He chuckles. “I’ll tell you about it later.” He leans down, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, how did you manage to get me assigned to the 501st?” You ask, pulling away slightly.

He lifts a hand, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, I may have told Rex and had him put in a special request.”

You stare at him wide eyed.

“Don’t worry,” He tries to ease your concern. “He’s not going to say anything. None of them are.”

“What did you do, tell the whole squad?” You ask.

“The whole platoon, actually.” He says sheepishly.

“You were the one that said we had to be careful.” You punch his shoulder, the plastoid harder than you expected it to be.

“I think that hurt you more than me.” He says, taking your hand and inspecting your sore knuckles. “But don’t worry. No one’s going to say anything. We’ve all been sworn to secrecy about each other’s soulmates. It’s a sort of unspoken law among clones.”

“That’s sweet.” You say, captivated by his fingers as they gently massage your hand.

“I’ll introduce you tonight during third meal.” He says. “When everyone’s back on board.”

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be out enjoying your shore leave?” You ask.

“I wanted to see you.” He says.

You stare up at his face, at those big brown eyes. “You’re being all sweet on me now, making me nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous.” He soothes, wrapping his arms back around your waist. “I’m just a goofy guy who's never really talked to a woman before outside of a professional setting.”

You stare at him open mouthed. “You’ve never...”

He shrugs. “Never really wanted to.”

You lean against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. “Well, you’re doing a good job.”

He chuckles, the sound deep in his chest. “Thanks.” He holds you for a few moments before letting you go. “I’ll come by the lab and show you around later, okay?”

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips. “Okay.”

He swoops down, kissing your cheek before leaving you a bit flustered in the supply closet.

***

Despite how close you two are, you barely get to see Kix. With the 501st constantly on the move, constantly going from one campaign to the next, you’re very busy and so is Kix. You mostly see each other in passing, or in the mess hall, or occasionally in a stolen moment in a supply closet. You only see him in the med bay twice, there usually for burns on your fingers, things you’ve become almost numb to in your years of working as a mechanic and engineer.

You finally get a quiet moment to yourselves on a long journey from one side of the galaxy to the other. Well, it wasn’t exactly that far, but it was a long trip. You’re glad for the break, and glad for the quiet moment you get to spend with Kix.

He tells you to meet him in the barracks, a place you hadn’t really explored much. You weren’t really supposed to go into the clone barracks, especially as a civilian unless it was an emergency.

This was an emergency, you were about to go crazy from the longing to be close to him again. The GAR wouldn’t see it that way though.

You’re extra careful, slipping in quickly as he waves you over from the door. It’s empty besides the two of you, Kix leading you over to his bunk.

“How’d you get everyone to leave?” You ask, laying down and stretching out. They’re not any more comfortable than the civilian bunks.

“I may have promised to buy the boys a couple extra rounds on our next shore leave.” He says, stretching himself out next to you. He’s stripped from his armor, left in his blacks.

“Another unspoken clone law?” You ask, tracing your fingers over the muscles visible under the tight bodysuit.

“Well, they know why I’m doing it.” He says, his hand settling on your waist. “I just figured you’d prefer some quiet privacy. They’d pretend to ignore us, but they’d be listening the whole time.”

You hum, kissing him softly. “Then I thank you for your sacrifice of a couple rounds.”

He grins against your lips, pulling you closer against his chest. “Just doing my duty, ma’am.”

You pause for a moment, a tingle running down your spine as he calls you “ma’am.” You’ll have to lock that one away for later. He pulls you back to him, kissing you harder. You lose yourself in him, letting all of the stress and fear and emotions over the last few weeks go. You worried about Kix, every time they left on a campaign. You monitored comms as often as you could, for more than just your job of making sure everything was functioning. You waited anxiously to hear that Kix is alright, that he’s still alive and well.

“How long do we have?” You murmur against his lips as he rolls you onto your back, settling on top of you.

“An hour or so.” He says, lips leaving your lips to kiss down your jaw.

“Is that going to be enough time?” You ask.

He smirks against your neck, nipping at the skin. “I’ll make you cum at least twice before then.”

You smirk, lifting your arms as he tugs your shirt over your head. “Is that a challenge?”

“No,” He smirks, hands cupping your breasts. “It’s a promise.”

You gasp as his lips close around one of your nipples, tugging it gently with his teeth. You’re already wet, your underwear sticking uncomfortably to you. You can feel him pressed up against your thigh, painfully hard through his blacks. You’ve both been waiting for this, eagerly anticipating this moment. You wish you had all the time in the world to do this, but you’re lucky enough to even get an hour of privacy together.

You can’t wait for this war to be over with.

He continues his kisses down your stomach, tugging your pants and underwear down. You let your legs fall open for him, his eyes staring hungrily at your soaked pussy. Your cheeks warm a bit as he stares at you, his eyes dark and lust-blown. His hands hold your thighs as he leans in, licking a stripe along your slit. You gasp at the sensation, his tongue dragging over your clit.

You have to be careful not to make too much noise. Anyone walking past could hear, and with your luck it would be the wrong person. You’d get in so much trouble, both of you.

You press a hand over your mouth as he dives right in, eating you like a man starved. He was, in a way. You had put this off far too long. You’d snuck a hand into your panties in the dead of night a few times while thinking of him, trying to take the edge off as you waited for the opportune moment.

Nothing compared to the feel of him, though.

His tongue thrusts into you, licking at your walls as his nose presses against your clit. You curse behind your hand, your other hand gripping the sheets under you.

It doesn’t take you long to cum, his tongue lapping up every last bit of your orgasm. You’re close to overstimulated when he finally pulls away, face glistening in the low light of the barracks. You drag him up, kissing him deeply. He groans against your mouth, hips pressing against yours.

You break the kiss to tug his blacks over his head, your hands trailing down his chest, feeling every ridge of muscle. Your fingers trace every little scar, every little mark. He tugs his pants down, kicking them off the end of the bed and your fingers continue lower, wrapping around his thick length.

He presses his face into your neck, groaning as you work your hand over him. “Kriff, you feel so good.” He murmurs. “Better than I ever could.”

You smile, parting your legs a bit so he can settle between them. “Isn’t that the point.”

He leans up on his elbows over you, staring down at you. “You’re going to ruin me forever.”

“That’s my job.” You say, lining him up.

You bury your face in his shoulder as he eases into you, moving slowly. It’s a stretch, far bigger than you had anticipated. He pauses once he’s seated inside you, making you feel full and connected. You can feel it, the connection building between you two. There was no going back now.

He slowly begins to rock his hips, holding onto you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, pulling him as close as you can. You can feel him deep in your very soul, the connection between you two solidifying. You’re two halves of one whole, one soul shared between two bodies. This was what you were meant for, not what the GAR forced you to do, hiding and keeping secrets.

You wish the war would end. You wish you could steal him away, live a happy life somewhere free of war, free of the GAR, free of everything. A life happy together, where nothing has to be a secret, and you can take as much time as possible. Where you can shout your love for him as loud as you want.

You use his shoulder to muffle your moans, his own groans muffled by your neck. You move seamlessly, meeting his thrusts. You’re already close again, the tautness of his body telling you he’s close too.

“Cum for me.” He whispers, hitting that spot inside you over and over again. “Let me feel you.”

You cum around him, nails digging into his back. He cums with a groan, emptying inside you. You lay still for a moment, simply breathing each other in.

Kix leans up, kissing your lips before sliding down your body. You watch, leaning up a bit as he settles between your thighs once more. You can feel his cum starting to leak out of you, Kix watching for a moment before he leans in, closing his mouth around your pussy. You breathe out a curse, flopping back on the bed as he cleans you with his mouth. It’s unexpected and obscene as he slurps at your pussy, your skin burning.

You can feel it, another orgasm approaching. You bite into the skin of your arm, keeping yourself quiet as he sucks at your clit, forcing you over the edge a third time.

He laps at your folds for a few more seconds before sliding back up your body, gently tugging your arm free from your mouth. He soothes over the mark with his fingers. “You’ll want to clean that.” He says, so easily switching into medic mode. “Human bites can be very dangerous.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, doctor.”

He pauses, eyes widening as he stares down at you. You file that away too. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I kept my promise.”

You laugh against his lips. “You did. And a bonus.”

“I did say ‘at least twice’.” He says, sitting up on the bed. “I’d make it a lot more than that if we had time.”

You grin, sitting up next to him. “Save that for the next shore leave.”

He smirks, patting your ass as you move to grab your discarded clothes. You wash up in the fresher, trying to make yourself appear like you hadn’t just been fucking a clone in the barracks. Kix puts his armor back on, checking both ways before you step out of the barracks.

You walk closely, wishing you could hold his hand, but you know you can’t. You silently curse the GAR and their stupid rules. You can’t wait for this war to be over.

You’re so close to the elevator when your names are called from down the hall, both of you freezing. You turn, eyes widening a bit at the sight of General Skywalker approaching.

“G-General.” Kix says, standing up straighter.

General Skywalker looks between you, crossing his arms. “What are you two up to?”

“I was, uh, having some calibration issues with my helmet.” Kix quickly lies.

“Uh huh. And you had to fix that in the barracks?” General Skywalker asks, crossing his arms.

“Well, I needed to make sure it would connect with the others, and it was easier to just check it where they all were gathered, instead of disturbing them and making them come down to the lab.” You nervously explain. You know he doesn’t believe you. You’re absolutely screwed.

“Right.” The General nods. “That’s very thoughtful of you, not wanting to disturb them.”

“Yeah,” You nod. “They work so hard, they need all the rest they can get.”

“I still have some work to do, so we were heading to the mess to grab some caf.” Kix says, trying to explain why you were now leaving together.

“Very busy.” You nod, trying to make it as believable as possible.

The General looks between you two for a moment before nodding. “Then I should let you get back to it.”

You don’t relax, even as you turn to continue down the hall. Your shoulders are still tense, nerves running high. You had tried so hard not to get caught, and then here you were, getting caught by the General of all people.

“You know,” The General says, making you two stop dead in your tracks. “That’s not a bad excuse.” You both turn, looking over your shoulders at the General. “I might have to use that some day.”

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry, @6oceansofmoons, @ladytano420, @spicy-clones, @dangraccoon, @bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @stunkbiggu, @endofthexline, @rosechi

#star wars #star wars fic #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #trooper kix #clone trooper kix #clone trooper kix x reader #clone medic kix #clone medic kix x reader

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ghcstao3 · 1 year ago

Note

Have you ever done a Vampire!Soap with Human ghost before 👀👀

i don’t believe i have! that has now been changed

Let it be known that Ghost is not a coward.

Over the years he’s grown desensitized to so much that hardly anything scares him. He knows only how to incite fear, not feel it, and he certainly has no fear of Soap.

It just happens that the idea of the sergeant being a vampire makes him a little… squeamish.

Most days, Ghost can forget about the fact that his sergeant isn’t human. He can forget about the spare bags of blood stored in the back of the common room fridge just for him, he can forget that his strength is superhuman when Soap still loses their spars.

He can forget, until they’re deployed and Ghost sees Soap sinking his teeth into the enemy, ripping open their throats with fangs instead of any manmade weapon. He can forget, until Soap’s eyes, normally a vivid, lively blue, flash a bloodthirsty red as he feeds, as he has yet to come down from a rampage.

Ghost isn’t afraid of those moments, he’s not. He’s not afraid of Soap. The sergeant just makes Ghost feel all the more human.

But whatever it is he feels, whatever it is that’s making him wary, Ghost never confronts it. He never lets show his discomfort around Soap whenever he’s suddenly too aware of the man’s vampirism. Doesn’t need to.

They work just fine together.

Until it all comes to a head, after a particularly gruelling mission.

They’d underestimated the demand of the mission, landing Ghost and Soap alone, exhausted, after nearly two weeks of nonstop action. Their transport is hours out, Soap has been incessantly scratching his arms, and Ghost may or may not be in need of medical attention.

Overall, things could be better. Significantly.

“Would you quit that?” Ghost snaps. The sound of the scraping of Soap’s nails against his skin is grating.

Soap freezes. Slowly lowers his arms, revealing red, irritated lines left behind. He looks almost sheepish, hunching in on himself in a way that makes him look small, shy, like Ghost has never known him to be.

“Sorry,” the sergeant apologies. “Haven’t fed in a while.”

Ghost frowns, turning to finally give Soap a proper look.

Soap looks paler than usual, cheeks gaunt, under-eyes a deep purple. Ghost’s brows knit together.

“You didn’t bring any spare?”

Soap shrugs helplessly. “Don’t usually need it. Usually there’s hostiles to solve that problem,” he mutters.

“But you have some back on base, yeah?”

Soap nods. Ghost sighs.

“That’ll do, then.”

Ghost has the brief idea to offer help, but it’s disregarded almost as fast as it crosses his mind. He reasons he can’t because he’s already bleeding—and he’s sure Soap can smell it—but Ghost knows it’s not really the why.

When transport finally arrives, Ghost is constantly sending glances over to Soap, who drags his feet as they climb into the Humvee. He throws out concerned looks the entire way back, but eventually loses the chance to continue worrying when they return to base, as Ghost is dragged away to have his wounds checked.

He forgets about it, like everything else to do with the vampire, until Ghost discovers Soap pacing in the common room in front of a refrigerator that had been just about completely torn apart.

“Soap,” Ghost calls.

Soap doesn’t answer.

“Johnny!” Ghost barks.

The sergeant stops mid-step. He pivots on his heel to face Ghost, chewing on nails with fangs that somehow look duller. His eyes are wide, and noticeably crimson, and the wild look on his face almost has Ghost… scared.

“Sit-rep,” Ghost demands weakly.

Soap is trembling. “Someone threw it all out.”

Ghost could very well guess what he’s referring to. Still, he asks, “Threw what out, sergeant?”

“My…” Soap casts an almost forlorn glance toward the fridge and its emptied-out contents. “It’s gone.”

Ghost huffs. “When’s the last time you’ve fed, Johnny?”

Again, that timid expression reappears on Soap’s face. He wraps his arms around himself, though it does nothing to hide the way he shakes.

“A month,” Soap murmurs.

Ghost doesn’t like that he drinks blood. Doesn’t like that it’s another person’s life force that fuels him. But he still feels pity. Sympathy.

Vampire or not—he’s still Soap. And he looks on the brink of a second death.

“Need to be more responsible, sergeant,” Ghost says carefully, slowly. He takes a step toward Soap, and tries to do his best to ignore the ache in his heart when Soap moves backward.

“I know.” Soap’s head dips in an aborted half-nod, refusing to meet Ghost’s gaze. “‘M sorry.”

Ghost takes another step. This time, Soap remains glued in place.

“Don’t apologize,” Ghost scolds. He softens, then, with a quiet sigh. “Can you ask anyone to…?”

Soap shakes his head. “Gaz ‘n’ Price are deployed,” he says. “Don’t trust anyone else.”

It’s a split-second decision that has Ghost blurting out the option he’d hope to never propose. “What about me?”

Soap’s eyes snap up to Ghost’s, startled. Still red, but somehow transformed into the eyes of prey. “You…?”

Ghost swallows thickly. “You’ll… you need it, so—“

“I cannae… cannae ask that of you,” Soap croaks. Though he doesn’t really need oxygen, Soap’s breathing is erratic, almost like some animalistic part of his brain had been unleashed, finally unlocked once the idea of being fed has become real again. The refusal is only to be polite, Ghost is sure of it.

His heartbeat is loud in his own ears. It’s probably louder in Soap’s.

Slowly, never once taking his eyes off Soap, Ghost pushes up a sleeve and offers out his forearm to the sergeant. His jaw ticks, watching Soap carefully.

Soap hesitates. For a long moment, Ghost begins to think Soap would rather hope he’d get blood some other way than taking from Ghost—but then, tentatively, he grabs ahold of Ghost’s wrist and steps closer, before bringing the lieutenant’s arm to his lips.

The initial prick of sharpened fangs has Ghost wincing, but after a moment of adjusting to the strange sensation of Soap’s feeding—it isn’t nearly as horrible as Ghost had imagined it to be. Especially not when Ghost is more focused on the healthy flush of colour that returns to Soap’s cheeks, and the warmth that finds his palms.

But with blood comes a renewed vigour and strength, and Ghost has to attempt to wrench Soap off of him when his knees start to feel weak. But he finds no success—instead suffering from a roaring panic that had always existed under the surface, fearful of something like this ever happening.

Then, mercifully, only a few seconds later Soap seems to sense the change. Seems to recognize he’s taken all he’d be able to without hurting Ghost. He pulls off Ghost’s wrist, licking the wound until the skin knits together without blemish. He swipes his tongue over his owns lips afterward, now stained a deep scarlet.

His pupils are blown wide. What’s visible of his irises are… their usual blue.

Unlike every other time Soap comes off feeding.

Ghost hardly notices that he’s being moved to the common room’s ratty sofa after a moment, a strong, supporting arm snaked around his waist. Soap sits with him, thumb tracing gentle circles into Ghost’s side—a gesture far more intimate than Ghost wants to think about.

“I’m sorry,” Soap is whispering. “I’m sorry, I’m—“

“Why?” Ghost tilts his head, incidentally sending a new wave of dizziness through his system—but he pays it no mind. “Offered t’ help, didn’t I?”

Soap gapes, mouth bobbing open and shut as he tries and fails to find his words.

Ghost shrugs to himself more than anything, slumping further into Soap’s side. A weight suddenly tugs at his eyelids, and they fall sleepily closed. He feels fine, really. Lightheaded at most.

“Jus’ don’t let it happen again, Johnny,” he mumbles.

Ghost doesn’t think Soap notices his hold getting tighter. He’s not certain either of them really care.

“‘Course not, LT,” Soap says.

Ghost falls asleep to the comforting pressure of Soap surrounding him.

He’s not sure if he’ll feel any less afraid when he wakes up.

(part 2)

#ask #wow ok got a little out of hand #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #ghoap #vampire!soap #writing

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bluebeary-jay · 1 year ago

Note

Hey hey!

Congratulations on your well-earned milestone!

Here is my selection for the celebration:

Joel Miller

Hurt/comfort

❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜

I can't wait to see what you come up with 💜

HIII DARLING!!! 😍💕

Thank you SO SO MUCH for requesting!! I hope you'll like what I came up with cause I had so much fun with this one! (though it took longer cause my classes just started again so sorry for the wait!)

Again, thank you thank you thanks for taking part in my celebration and you're getting a little kiss from me, too! (muah! 💗)

“I’m not a nurse. You should see a real doctor.”

You told him that time and time again, but his response was always the same.

“Don’t trust them not to rat me out,” Joel would just grumble and collapse on your couch heavily. “I trust you.”

Your medical knowledge was minimal, but still a lot better than many people in Boston QZ. That didn’t mean you weren’t always nervous when Joel came to you with a more serious injury.

“What if I mess up?” you would ask, already cleaning his wounds, but he would just stare at you with an indescribable look on his face. “I don’t wanna make anything worse.”

“You won’t, sweetheart.” His voice, as well as eyes, would soften and he’d just watch you quietly in his reverie.

But this time, as he staggered through the door without even knocking first, bleeding on your floor, you really regretted not convincing him beforehand to find someone more capable. He mumbled some reassurances that he was fine, that it wasn’t his blood when you leaped to your feet in panic, but couldn’t hide the exhaustion and pain on his face. His eyes were drooping and it looked like he was on the verge of passing out.

“Were you bit?” you asked firstly as you guided him to your couch. Joel shook his head, leaning on you heavily.

“Wouldn’t have come here if I’d been, darlin’.”

Still you checked him for bites as soon as he laid down with a grunt of pain, but thankfully there were no teeth marks on his skin. He was, however, hurt and bleeding and your heart clenched in fear at the sight.

“Okay,” you mumbled, trying to calm down more yourself than him. “I’m gettin’ the bandages. You don’t move.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The teasing tone and playfulness Joel so often used with you was almost inaudible under the weariness and pain he was in.

“Joel, talk to me,” you said while gathering the essentials, wanting to make sure he stays conscious. “What happened?”

“Nothin’ big,” he murmured in response. You barely heard him with how little his lips moved. “There are… new gangs formin’ in the QZ. Got jumped by one of them when I got back from outside the wall.”

“Why?” you asked, pulling up a stool to the couch, and then uncorked a bottle of alcohol you always kept in your cabinet for situations like this one. “Did you know them?”

“No.” You started to cut his shirt open and he hissed when the material peeled off of his wounds. “I guess they just saw me and decided that killin’ me would be a good way to earn respect. Or maybe it wasn’t that. Who the fuck knows.” He turned his head, looking at you softly for a couple of seconds before speaking again. “They weren’t good fighters, though.”

“Did you kill them?”

Joel nodded. His expression was one of… almost apprehension. Was he worried you’d get scared? You hoped he knew you better than that by now.

“Good.”

He visibly relaxed when you didn’t shrink away or hesitate, and you exhaled through your nose to focus on the task at hand.

You spent the next half an hour on stopping the bleeding and carefully stitching the nastiest looking wound on his side. Thankfully it looked worse than it actually was, and after you cut off the last bit of the thread and dressed it, you started on tending the rest of his injuries.

“Why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood?” you asked some time later, trying to defuse the tension in the air. Joel was very quiet and it made you worry that there was some issue he wasn’t telling you about, but his lips twitched at your question and he offered you a weak smile.

“Can’t really help it, darlin’. It’s just your luck, I guess.”

“My luck?” you snorted incredulously and shook your head. “You’re lucky that you’re still walking after losing so much blood.”

“Told you it’s not mine,” he grumbled in response.

“I’d say most of it is, judging by these cuts and that hole I just had to suture.”

To that, he didn’t have any answer, and you pursed your lips as you moved the wet towel and now delicately cleaned another bloody spot on his neck.

“Goddammit, Joel,” you sighed after he stifled a moan of pain for the fourth time in a row. It wasn’t his fault, of course, and a weaker man would surely holler if he had his skin stitched back together, but his stubbornness really irritated you. Or more accurately – concerned you “I’m serious, find someone more capable next time. No one would dare to rat you out once they learn who they’re dealing with. Have you asked Tess if she could find you someone–”

“I don’t want anyone else,” Joel interrupted you dryly with an air of finality in his tone. “You’re good.”

Something in his demeanor caused you to arch your eyebrow. “Why?”

“Maybe I just like you,” he grumbled, irritation seeping through the tone of his voice, but instead of glaring at you, he averted his eyes. Your heart fluttered uncontrollably, but you contained it before the immense joy caused by Joel’s words could reflect on your face.

“If you really liked me, you wouldn’t visit only when you’re in need of patching up after a job.”

He didn’t answer and instantly you felt terrible about what you said. While it was true, sometimes he also dropped by to give you small gifts he ‘found’ outside the wall – a book, a pretty knickknack or just something he thought you might like… But those visits always lasted barely a minute so you didn’t really count them in your head.

Still, as you looked at Joel’s face, a weird feeling of uncertainty tugged at your heartstrings.

“How was it out there today, by the way?” you asked, trying to appear casual while you gathered all the spent materials and dumped them on the floor. “Did you go to Lincoln again?”

“No, sweetheart. Not this time.”

You made a noise of acknowledgement. A couple of seconds of silence passed before Joel cleared his throat.

“Maybe… You’d like to go with me, sometime.” Your head snapped up to his face, but Joel wasn’t looking your way. His cheeks were tinged pink, though you couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or the loss of blood. “You know. Out there. To Bill and Frank’s, for example.”

“My, my, Miller, are you asking me out on a date?” you asked playfully, half-expecting him to make a wry face at you… but Joel kept silent. The only indication that he heard you was the shame that ran across his features, causing your smile to fade instantly. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious,” Joel huffed, looking definitely regretful that he’d said anything in the first place. “I thought it would be… I mean, they wanted to meet ya, anyway, and they have it nice, not like in the QZ here…” He shook his head and got up from the couch, now undoubtedly blushing. “Jesus, just forget it. Thanks for your help but I’ll be goin’ now–”

“No, no, no, please!” You shot up as he staggered past you to the door, but managed to stop him before he could leave. “Joel, no, stay. Please.”

“No, darlin’, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He frowned down at you, his face harsh and eyes steely. He looked like he was entirely made out of stone, but you knew it was just a facade. “Really, just forget I ever said–”

“I’d love to,” you breathed out quickly, meeting his eyes hopefully. “Joel, look at me. I’d really love to go there with you. On a date.”

As if someone flipped a switch, Joel’s attitude instantly changed – his dark irises softened at your answer and the tension seemed to leave his shoulders, which in turn caused you to smile brightly. You touched his chest delicately, feeling your own heart thumping loudly in your ribcage. “Wasn’t it clear enough that I really like you?”

Joel stared at you blankly with slightly unfocused eyes, suddenly making you worried that maybe he’s going to pass out from overexertion. You tugged his arm lightly to drag him back to the couch, but he didn’t budge.

“Joel?”

His gaze traveled from your lips to your eyes, and he slowly shook his head.

“No.”

His voice was soft and vulnerable, so very unlike the fearsome man you knew and admired. His hand found yours and Joel swallowed heavily as he guided your joined fingers to his cheek.

“Darlin’...”

“S’alright,” you whispered with a small smile, understanding the turmoil that was surely happening inside of him. Stroking the side of his palm with your thumb, you climbed onto your tiptoes and brushed your lips against his. “We’ll talk after you rest.”

It was unclear whether Joel was still listening to you, but nonetheless he nodded with an absent-minded look on his face. You led him back to the couch and sat next to him on the edge after he refused to let go of your hand.

“You know… I started t’fall for you a long time ago,” he murmured out of nowhere in a whisper. You furrowed your eyebrows when you noticed the sweat dampening his forehead, and reached for a clean towel to wipe it away. “Since that time you helped me with the wound on my back.”

“That was a long time ago,” you agreed but your mind was partially elsewhere, trying to ascertain what was going on with his condition. “You never said anything.”

“Was afraid you wouldn’t wanna see me again.” His eyes were closed now, and you no longer were sure if he even knew what he was saying. “And…”

“Rest, Joel,” you coaxed him gently, checking for his temperature with your other hand. It seemed fine, so it was probably just his system shutting down from exhaustion. “You were hurt really badly.”

“Maybe I should’ve been more careful on this job.” Joel lifted his eyelids slightly to look at you, and with a small relief you noted that there was no fog or lostness in his eyes. They were full of only honesty and determination. “But I wanted to see you and t’was always… a good excuse.”

Did he really imply that he let himself get hurt just to have an excuse to see you?

You decided you’re gonna kill him in the morning when he feels better.

“Close your eyes, baby,” you murmured instead, leaning in to kiss his parted lips lightly. “I’ll stay with you. And later we’ll go on that date, and you will show me Lincoln and the world outside.”

Joel’s breathing slowed down as soon as your lips touched his, and you felt him trying to return the kiss, but sleep won in the end and his eyes closed.

But even when his consciousness slipped into the dream realm, he didn’t let go of your hand.

#bluebeary-jay's 1k party #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel miller x you

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barefoothighlander · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! So I'm not the same person that asked for the stubborn and sick reader thats afraid of the doc, but what about either a continuation, or a whole new piece where ghost HELPS the reader overcome their fear of doctors? (SFW please, whether he's nice about it or forceful is up to you! Just wanted some fluff!) 💜

I got you anon, this can be read as a stand alone or a part two to this drabble

warnings: fluff, anxiety, mention of doctors & medical terms, gn pronouns, not proofread

“Right, you can’t put it off any longer love”

“It’s not that bad” Your words come out through broken coughs

“It’s been over a week and your fever hasn’t broken, we need to see the doctor”

“I’m telling you I’m fine”

Simon sighs, his thumb rubbing small circles over the skin of your thigh.

“I understand you’re scared, but I’ll be there with you”

Your heavy eyes turn to him, sincerity seeps from his features, you believe him, you know that he’d never let anything bad happen to you but the anxiety sits like a weight in your stomach.

“It’s more than fear Si, it’s like all my worries just swarm as soon as I think about it, everyone gathers at once and combusts in my head, it’s just too much”

“I know” His hand moves to hold yours, your skin is damp from sweat, he can feel the heat of your skin in his own, “I feel like that too, anytime I think about you in danger, every time I think about my family, everything piles up until it just”

“Bursts”

He snickers, “Yeah, bursts”

You give him a weak smile, closing your eyes for a moment before slowly nodding, “Okay”

“Okay?”

“We can go, but promise me we’ll leave if it’s too much”

“Of course my love”

He holds your hand as you get out of the bed, your legs a little wobbly from the weakness in your muscles. You change in to a pair of sweatpants as Simon makes a quick tea, throwing it in a thermos for you as you both make your way to the car.

You’re staring out the window, watching the buildings breeze bye, a swarming feeling settling in your lower stomach as you bounce your knee nervously. Simons hand moves to rest on top of your hyper leg, pulling you from your thoughts.

“It’ll be quick, they’ll give you some medicine and we’ll go home, I’ll be there the whole time”

You nod, your lower lip between your teeth. You drive for a few more minutes before he parks the car near the entrance of the office, turning off the engine.

“You ready?”

You take a deep breath, nodding to him as you exit the car, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back, the contact helping ease some of your anxiety as you enter.

Simon checks you in and the two of you sit down, your eyes shifting around the room. Your skin starts to sweat as the abundance of objects enter your view, every wall is covered in posters or pamphlets, there’s half dead plants littering the shelves beside small models of brains and lungs.

Your breath picks up and you pick at the skin around your nails, Simon notices, his large hands moving to envelop yours, his thumb soothing over your skin, trying to calm you down.

“Did you finish your book?”

“You’re trying to distract me”

“Yep, so did you?”

“No, I have a few chapters left”

“Is it good?”

You turn to him, “Yes”

“What’s your favourite part so far?”

“You don’t need to keep me busy like a child”

“Just want to take your mind of your worries”

You give him a meek smile, “Thank you” you say before beginning to explain some plot line of your most recent read, Simon watching you talk, asking a few questions and listening when you go on a tangent.

A few minutes pass and the doctor walks out calling your name, you feel your heart drop, Simon squeezes your hands in reassurance as you two stand, your fingers cling to him as you walk down the small hallway to the office and sit down, the smell of alcohol invading your senses.

Simon explains your symptoms to the doctor, your fever and chills, the fatigue and lack of appetite, you sit there listening, your fingers tracing over his tattoos. You flinch a little as the doctor moves to examine your throat, your skin hot and sweaty as his hands prod at your neck, your nails digging into Simons arm.

You listen as the doctor says that you just have a pretty bad cold, probably the flu and that he’d prescribe some antibiotics for you. Simon thanks the man before taking nudging you out of the room, his hand finding it’s way to your back as you leave. You step out and feel like you can finally breath, the cool air outside helping to calm the heat of your skin.

“You did well love, I’m proud of you” His hand roaming along your back

You huff a small laugh, your palms digging into your eyes as you make your way back to the car. You drive back to your flat, Simon stopping to pick up your prescription and some take out for the two of you before you make your way inside.

You strip from your clothes, replacing them with looser items as they began to feel a little claustrophobic, Simon makes you another tea and sets out a glass of water beside your medicine. You swallow the pill and gulp back some water, his eyes watching you to make sure you finished.

“Right, as a reward for going I got your favourite”

He pulls out a small brown bag, opening it and placing a few boxes of chinese food on the counter as you smile,

“Did you get”

“Chicken dumpings? of course”

Your smile widens, he remembered your order. The two of you sit down on the couch to eat your dinner, Simon turning the tv on to the rugby game, cursing when the opposing team scored. He was so animated when he watched sports, such a different persona from his usual, it made you giggle.

“Nice to see you happy love” His hand cupping your jaw, you move your body to rest on him, your chin finding it’s place on his shoulder as his arm snakes around you.

You fall asleep after a few minutes, the stress of the day wearing you out, Simon slowly shifts from under you, moving the plates to the small table ahead before his arms lift your body, carrying you to the bed.

He sets you down gently, making sure the blanket covers you but wouldn’t make you too hot during your sleep as his lips press a kiss to your forehead, you mumble a small thank you to him before falling back asleep.

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #cod mw x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #mw2022 #simon ghost riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost fluff #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #reqs💌

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jolalibrary · 2 years ago

Text

rattled your bones

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader (Helen!Reader) word count: 2.5k summary: It’s instinctive, a direct response, his hand moving to clutch his vest—the space directly above his fucking heart. A pain radiating through him, flooding like wildfire that’s about to choke him from the inside out. an: blood, gun shot, ghost worrying (everyone is fine in the end tho, just pining and worries). for the anon who is desperate for the bullet story 💕 new readers, Helen is a nickname, it’s part of a whole “world” with reader as a medic nicknamed Helen by ghost (read Helen. Simon. for more info)

simon ghost riley masterlist

++++

“Helen.”

“I’m going as quick as I can,” she snaps, almost hissing it out through her teeth.

He watches her. How her eyes scan over the monitor, fingers pausing over the keys.

Ghost hadn’t meant it to come out sharp. Cold. But he couldn’t shake the fact something was wrong. It was too easy, too clean.

That, and the fact she shouldn’t even be here. Should be on the base, or at the Heli. Not here, not downloading information Price had demanded. She should be safe. Away from this shit—as much as he could prevent.

But she wasn’t. Isn’t.

The sound of boots—a pair, at least—filled the air. His eyes look to her, watching her rip out the USB as he removes a knife.

“Hide.”

“Wh—“

His finger over his mask, silencing her, moving to the door. It’s quick, easy—hand over their mouth, two punctures, neck and chest, moving them to the floor.

Ghost wants to think, and hope, it’s just him.

One lone man.

One man checking out this side of the base, but he suspects it isn’t.

Something in the air, something knotting in his stomach.

He spots her head poking up, his eyes stern, I need you alive, Simon, don’t die. Your eyes purposeful, direct, and beautiful—like fucking always.

But, from the worried look she’s giving him, she’s likely hearing them too—boots, more boots. He shows his knife, her hand raising, showing the one he gave her earlier.

Because all she can do is defend.

Part and parcel of being a medic in the field. Something he finds ridiculous and half the reason why she shouldn’t be here. The other being… she’s his.

He can’t lose her.

Keep her safe. Keep Helen safe.

He cracks his neck before he grasps approaching fabric, fist clenching vest as he disposes of one person after the next. His ears tuned in, forcing himself to listen through the grunts and hisses. Almost on top of it, thankful her head hasn’t popped up, almost sure they’d done it—remained undetected.

As in-and-out as two people can be in this situation.

Until he sees a shadow, a flicker of something in the other doorway as more boots approach. Trying to calculate, gripping his knife tighter to dispatch the one closer—making a snap decision he hopes will pay off.

Because it’s clear they’re already fucking compromised.

The four bodies on the floor are evidence of that.

So he stabs, and dispatches—glove soaked with other people's blood as he removes the knife, sliding it through more flesh to be sure.

And he hears it too late.

The sound of a bullet leaving a chamber—a handgun, the specific type coming to mind as he turns, and he sees it.

Sees her.

He hears her small, ‘No’.

There’s nothing he can do. Not a single, fucking thing.

Her body is already launching through the air between him and the man trying to shoot him—straight in his back. All he can do is watch it all happen.

A passenger.

A bystander to the fact the woman he cares about is about to be pierced with a bullet. One meant for him. Watching her take the bullet, hissing before continuing—adrenaline thumping as she attacks. His knife in her hand landing once, twice—just like he taught her. Like he’d shown her, her body slick with sweat, flushed cheeks and body pressed against his on the mat.

This isn’t practice.

This isn’t him showing her how to defend herself.

It’s real and it’s all in slow. slow. slow motion.

The sound of it all reaching his ears way after he’s watched it happen, punctuated by the horrific sound of her gasp. A horrid, fucking sound he’s not sure he’ll be able to scrub from his mind.

And for a moment, he’s lost. Frozen. Stuck. Even his blink is slower, his swallow slower than that.

Then, as though someone flicks a switch, everything rushes back to him. The sounds, the smell, the moment—it’s almost overwhelming.

His hand raising—all instinctive, a direct response—moving to clutch his vest—the space directly above his fucking heart. A pain radiating through him, flooding like wildfire that’s about to choke him from the inside out.

Even if the two of them land with a thud, his focus is on her.

Because it hurts. Almost as though the bullet has gone through him to hit her.

And then.

Like all moments, it shatters. It snaps. It cracks.

And he’s charging. Closing the small gap, grabbing her, lifting her to her feet, feeling her stumble before he holds her close. Her eyes looking down, scarlet blooming around her hip as she tries to smile—tries not to show how much she’s in pain.

Even if the air is tinged with sawdust and the iron of blood, his heart hammering as if he’s been struck with adrenaline himself.

They won’t take you from me.

They cannot have you.

Mine. You’re mine. Only mine.

He doesn’t look, supporting her, pulling her close by her vest, hearing her grumble at the movement as he radios.

Her hand taps her pocket, silently telling him she has the drive—has what matters. As though he even gives a shit.

Pocketing his knife, he shifts his gun into his other hand, trying to take the knife from her fingers, shaking it until she lets go.

“Simon…”

“Keep y’blood in you, Helen. That’s your focus.”

His grip on her tight, so fucking tight.

She says nothing, glancing to see her plugging the hole with one finger, the other clutching him. Tightly. Desperately.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” he groans, “Takin’ a bullet for me.”

The corridors feeling long, too fucking long.

“You’re one ungrateful bastard, you know that?”

Her voice breathless, tinged with something he doesn’t want to linger on. Because it’s clear she’s in pain. Clear that it’s more than a graze from the way she is breathing too.

Each corner they take, half expecting more people, more things requiring a fight—until he hears the distinct sound of an explosion—far away, distant. He almost grins, almost.

It’s not until he kicks open the door they first snuck in through, the sun hitting his eyes does he allow himself a moment to look at her. Seeing her face full of the same determination he’s sharing, the same look he’s seen when she’s assessing which part of someone to begin with first.

“I love you, just so you know.”

It’s not quiet when she says it, her eyes not meeting his either.

It’s purposeful—the same way her hand grips his tighter.

He almost loses it, almost readjusts her so he can see her face—rip her vest and tactical top off to see the damage. But Johnny skids into view, he hears it, hears the noticeable panic of him shouting ‘Doc?’ ‘Lt?’

He almost bites, almost tells him to back the fuck off. But he doesn’t.

He squeezes her hand instead. “None of that, Helen.” Please.

Her head nods, a silent acknowledgement before a slight hiss replaces it—falling from her tongue as Johnny takes her other side.

“Whatcha’ done ‘ere then, Doc?”

He likes that she laughs.

Short. But sweet.

“Took a bullet for our Lieutenant, didn’t I?”

“Sure he appreciated that.”

She laughs, more breathy, more through her teeth. “Y-yeah. He’s been thank-king me ever since.”

+++++

You’ve been hit before.

It comes with the territory of being a combat medic, of being on the field, back turned, in the midst of it.

There’s a scar on your thigh, a graze on your upper arm and a stunning one shoulder too. Ones he’s kissed before, paid attention to purposefully—as though he can will away the memories and pain. In a way he does. And he doesn’t even realise it.

But, this. This is something else.

Your side, from chest to hip, burns with something far worse than pain. It consumes you, it almost swallows you—desperately trying to pull you into its dark depths.

“Talk to me.”

You look at him. Snap your eyes to him.

And then you really look at him.

Read his eyes, the only thing on show, focusing on the way he’s holding your hand still. Having not let go. Not even when evac arrives, not even when the woods begin to fly past the window.

“What-t do you want to t-talk about?”

He leans close, and you wish you could feel his breath on your skin. “Where am I takin’ ya? Next time we’re off?”

You laugh, even if it hurts. Rolling your head against the window, hissing—your lung burning, your side throbbing.

“You like Italian?”

“It’s alright.”

You swallow, trying to take smaller breaths—already having assessed your lung has collapsed. The other needing to work twice as hard.

“You tell me where and I’ll t-tell you what dress I’m wearing-g.”

“You need to live first, Helen.”

You smile, just for him. “Not going anywhere, Simon. Y’need me.”

“I do.”

You blink, watching his eyes drop at the realisation of his words before they land on you—asking you what dress you’re gonna wear.

“Black. Probably.”

“Not red?”

You snort, eyes feeling heavy. “Y’seem like someone who prefers black.”

“Maybe I like red?”

“I know you like red, can tell from how much of it gets soaked into those gloves and mask,” you say, lips feeling dry, skin beginning to feel cold. “Black, though. Silk. Below the knee, a slit. Low cut—give you three things to look at.”

“What’re those then?”

You manage to open your eyes, finding him looking at you with worry—a look you rarely see in his eyes.

Always so confident, so self-assured. A little standoffish—unless behind closed doors when he can remove his mask. When he can unveil the full man you love. A man who has wiggled and fought his way out of situations other men would have died in.

“My smile and m’boobs. You like my boobs.”

“I like your arse too.”

Smiling, you try to squeeze his hand. “Know that. But. Y’Can see that when I turn around.”

“Helen.”

“I’d do it again… take it. The bullet...”

“Helen.”

He sounds distant.

Your throat is dry, chest burning more and more—your breaths harder to find, your hip not hurting as much. “I need Soap…”

Ghost mumbles something.

“Inflate. M’lung,” you manage to grumble, hoping he can hear you. “Bullet… likely fracture… lung. Yeah?”

Your eyes struggling to open, feeling his hand—his bare skin—on your cheek, moving your chin, tilting your face. “Copy.”

You hear him bellow something, likely Soap. Your head almost colliding with the glass, even if you feel his gloved-fingers clutching your skin—desperately trying to root you.

“Love you…”

Hoping the words come out how you intend them to. Hoping they’re not lost in whispers and groans.

You want those to be the words he hears last, not knowing if you’re close or far.

You’re sure he knows.

He has to.

++++++

He’s been pacing, drilling his boots into the wooden floorboards. It doesn’t matter he’s been told to sit down. Doesn’t matter that one of the times he has, had been from Price. He isn’t sitting.

Not when she’s still unconscious, not when he’s watched Soap inflate her lung in the ‘exact way she’s shown him’.

“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny!”

“I’m doing m’best, Lt. Lass is normally barkin’ orders at me.”

They all have basic medical training.

His likely more extensive, having needed it, having required it to be sent on so many solo missions. But, working on her is different. He knows it, Price knows it.

It’s why he imagines it was Soap who was ordered to inflate it, to check for a bullet—even if he’s sure the lung is due to a fracture. The bullet hitting your hip, through and through. He knows that from the blood loss—and from stitching her.

Not trusting Johnny to do it.

“Give it ‘ere,” he’d eventually snapped, taking the needle from him, trying to tell himself this isn’t her.

Isn’t his Helen.

It’s a soldier. Someone who needs him.

It works well, almost convincing himself until he moves from the hole on the back of her side to the one on her front. Seeing the places he’s kissed more frequently, the soft ghostly marks of bruises he knows he’s left from holding her when her thighs are either side of his.

And then he waits.

Waits some more.

Looking even smaller, more fragile than he ever recalls her being as she lays in the bed. The one she’s usually tending to, the one she’s normally rushing around. It’s weird she’s in one of these beds.

He doesn’t move, wringing his hands out as he stares at her—willing her to open her eyes.

And then, her eyelashes flutter. A soft groan. Then, her eyes land on him. It feels like something close between the sun and a spotlight, illuminating him, warming him. For a moment, the two of them sitting in this second that’s all their own.

Until her face shifts, and the hold on his chest lessens.

“Hi,” she whispers.

As if she almost didn’t die on him earlier.

He bites the inside of his mouth as he sighs. “Hi.”

She tries to move, groaning as she does. “How mad are you?”

“Very.”

“Thought so.”

He places his hand on her shoulder—the good side—urging her down. Happy she relents, taking a breath, fingers finding the tube still sticking out her chest.

“Soap did good,” she mumbles, licking her lips before staring at him. “You stitched me though.”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“How’d y’know?”

Swallowing, her eyes glance over his mask—unsure what exactly she’s looking at. “I was sorta awake. For parts. You're gentler than I imagined.”

“Yeah?”

She nods.

He takes her hand, “You shouldn’t have done it… that.”

“Not apologising.”

“Course y’won’t, stubborn—“

“Unless you want me to pop my stitches, I’d swallow that word. Because y’know I’d do it again.”

“You’ve said.”

Sighing, she smiles. “So, let it go.”

“Let it… Helen? That was the stupidest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever done!”

“Cool.”

“Don’t… don’t fucking do that.”

Her fingers turn, sliding between his as she sighs. “Simon, it’s done. You are worth saving—y’hear me. That’s why I did it, why I’d do it again. I need you around too. Did I think? No. But….” I love you.

“I’d have been fine.”

“Just like I am?”

Fuckin’ bitch.

But, fuck, she’s everything. She’s the only person who fights him, fucks him and loves him like she does. And, for the last so many hours, when she wasn’t awake, he’s had a chance to ponder it all.

How he can’t be without her. Ever.

That he wants to go back to that building and burn the entire base down. How he didn’t even slam his knife into the man’s skull, having only focused on her. He forgot the mission—even if it was done, accomplished.

Simon has never, ever done that.

“You passed out.”

It comes out fragile, cracked at the edges.

Her shoulders sinking, the most beautiful smile spreading over her pale face. “People do that sometimes when it’s hard to breathe, Simon. But, other than some stitches, I’m guessing a cracked rib, bruising, a sexy scar in my hip and a temporarily deflated lung, I’m fine. You’re fine.”

“You bled.”

“And yet still, here I am.”

The other words churning on his tongue. Tasting bitter, burning a hole into his mouth as he stares at her, hoping she knows them.

Until they fall from his lips anyway. “You scared me…”

That silenced her.

Just for a moment. “I can’t lose you either… I—“

“I know… I don’t. I don’t need you to say it,” she whispers, looping her fingers between his—and he’s suddenly thankful he’d changed his gloves, clean ones for her clean, soft skin. “I had needed to say it…”

“Just in case?” Her eyes dropping, as he shakes his head. “Fuckin’ hell, Helen. Don’t… don’t fucking do that again.”

“What say it? Or take a bullet for you?”

“Both.”

“I can promise to try and not do one of those things.”

“Tell me it’s the latter.”

“Sorry, Zero.”

“Zero?”

“He’s a ghost dog, from Nightmare before Christmas.”

“Never seen it.”

“I’ll show you one day.”

“Yeah?”

She closes her eyes, fingers playing with his. “Promise.”

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