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eclipseberrycake · 3 days ago

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Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt. 7

AN: The long awaited part 7. Before anyone fears, no this isn't the end of the series don't you worry. I don't have many ideas for the next few parts, but I'm sure I'll think of something or one of you can help!

Also how do we feel about giving Reader a tail? /gen I have a few ideas I've been toying with with reader having a tail, but I don't want to cross the line between too self indulgent and reflecting of my character, rather than trying to be as inclusive as possible.

-> Part One -> Part Two -> Part Three -> Part Four -> Part Five -> Part Six -> Part Six 1/2

Warnings: Depictions of past trauma/ injury, past depictions of being turned into a Twisted/ seeing a loved one as a twisted/ recovering from being a Twisted, mentions of vomit, past depictions of losing a lost one, talk of scars (In a positive light, but just in case!)

☁ The first few nights were hard. So, so incredibly hard. Not by any fault of your own, oh absolutely not, but that didn't make the nights any less taxing or offer them anymore rest.

☁ There were a few times you offered tearfully to sleep in your old room so they could hopefully get some rest, each one shot down with a stern No'. The mere thought of having you out of their line of sight was more than their nerves could take, especially somewhere where they couldn't reach immediately? Hard Pass.

☁ The first night was by far the worst. Cosmo can't say he really remembers recovering from being a twisted, but there was one thing that stuck out for him during the entire process. And that was you. You were there the entire time, gently pressing cool cloths to his forehead, helping him sip water, even keeping saltine crackers on hand in case his temporarily fickle stomach decided that food was somewhat acceptable.

☁ You were the same with Astro and Sprout as well, ensuring the recovery, as awful as it was, was still as seamless as you could make it. If there was one thing he did remember about healing from being a twisted, is that he would never wish it upon another being. Much less you.

☁ The first night you're returned, you're rushed to med-bay as a flurry of commotion happens. Those left behind are eager to see if you've been returned, especially poor Toodles who took your turning hard. She's holding Blu when they rush past, tears in her large eyes, but Rodger is quick to turn her away.

☁ Sprout is already barking orders with Ginger meeting them halfway, first aid kit in hand. They had given you minimal attention in the ride up, but they didn't have the time, space or resources necessary to give you proper medical attention.

☁ It's a flurry of action that follows right after. Astro stays up by your head, wiping the ichor that stained your mouth and clumped your fur. His cheeks are shiny as he does it, shaking his head every now and then before continuing his actions.

☁ Cosmo barely remembers all he did that night, there was so much that needed done. That wound you had received from-...From when you turned into a twisted had never closed, the excess ichor from being a twisted keeping you alive. It was an awful, horrid thought, but not one they could ignore as Cosmo hurriedly worked alongside his cousin to close it. Sprout busied himself with working on the claw marks across your face you had made in your confused state. Every bit he seemed to do made his grimace deepen. He wasn't sure what the other was seeing, but currently wasn't certain he wanted to know during this moment.

☁ Your teeth still remained sharp as you groaned in pain throughout the process, hands reaching back up to swat at the insistent burden yanking on your wounds, only for them to be caught by Shelly, who had followed to offer her help.

☁ She had felt awful about the entire situation, regardless if you would've done it either way. Vee as well, though she stayed further back to avoid getting in the way. Shelly's tougher skin made her more resistant to your claws and slashes, so she was a welcome helper, even if it made the working space a bit more cramped.

☁ Seeing you hurt like that was an awful feeling. Cosmo remembers feeling the bile burn at the back of his throat that night, increasing in every little noise or whimper of pain you made. Even when the worst was handled, he had to step back for a moment, hiding in Astro's chest as Sprout continued wiping away what was left. The same grimace was on his features, one much more intense than what was usually there when he was in doctor mode.

☁ He didn't speak more on it until far after Shelly had taken her leave with a tearful well wishes. Even then, the berry had only dragged a chair closer, hiding his face in his hands. Neither Astro nor himself knew where to go from there, and that just made them feel all the more worse as you seemed to fall into a fitful unconsciousness.

☁ Cosmo wasn't sure if it counted as sleep, honestly, not with how you still shook.

☁ "They have so many scars." Sprout finally spoke up, voice wavering before it cracked as he smoothed back his leaves, letting them fall back into place. "They hide them under their fur. How did-..." Sprout swallowed tightly at this before looking up at them with teary eyes. "How did we miss that?"

☁ Neither waited for a moment further before rounding around the medical bed to wrap their arms around the berry. He was tricky when it came to emotions, especially since this entire thing began, flickering between anger and denial like a coin, to see him break down like that was rare.

☁ "It's easy to miss." Cosmo nearly choked on the words, tears welling in his eyes as he flickered between watching your chest rise and fall to the floor. There was a crack in one of the tiles. You'd want that fixed, so no one tripped. He'd make not of it later. "Their fur covers it-"

☁ "Is that really an excuse?" Sprout cuts back in, his own eyes watching you in the same clinical way Cosmo found himself doing it. "For the others maybe. But us?"

☁ Cosmo couldn't find any rebuttal, swallowing tightly. He knows he himself has spent countless hours with his fingers running along your fur, playing with the stands and drawing shapes against the grain of it. He just never really focused on the skin beneath because he truthfully didn't think too. Looking back, maybe that was on him. He should've done better, done something more-

☁ "I don't think anyone's at fault." Astro's comment cut through the sudden silence. He had been dreadfully silent since getting back from the run so to hear him sound so exhausted was...jarring. He always had a sleepy, tired lilt to his voice, but to hear it like that made Cosmo's tail curl tighter against his back.

☁ Silence fell again before Astro was continuing. "I think, to a degree, it would be...more questionable if they didn't have any. They've been doing this far longer than you, me or even Cosmo's been in the picture. We can't stop them, but we can support them however possible as we have been." Astro swallows for a moment, using a star shard to bring a box of tissues closer. He takes one, wiping under his eye before setting it to the side. "They will always be like this. They'll be our self-sacrificing idiot who doesn't know when to stop, but that's why we fell in love with them. We can't change them and I hope none of us would try. Their scars are part of who they are. We-...I love every part of them, even the parts they may not love as much. Those parts we just have to love a little extra."

☁ The words stand, nearly tangible in the air for a long while. He's right. There are very few times when Astro isn't, but it's a jarring notion to understand what you truly went through. Even Cosmo himself hadn't known how long you and Poppy and Boxten had been doing it since he wasn't even the first returned. No, by the time he had been recovered, Finn, Shrimpo and Rodger had been well acquainted parts of the group and you had become comfortable in your role as a distractor.

☁ He wonders just how much of the burden you've carried silently with you. He's terrified of the answer you'd give if he asked.

☁ "I do...I do love them." Sprout choked, as if that was ever being brought into question. "I just- What if they hurt? What if every time we ask them to distract they're just a constant reminder of every past failure to them? They've done so much for all of us. Who are we to ask anything more?"

☁ "Like Astro said, it's who they are. I think if they truly didn't want to distract, they wouldn't. And I hope they would feel safe enough to come to us if the scars were causing them pain." The first tear falls down Cosmo's cheek, which is quickly wiped with a star shard covered in a tissue. "I mean, for heaven's sake, they turned into a twisted to save Vee on a run to save Shelly. If that's not the most selfless thing I've seen, I don't know what is."

☁ "Truthfully, I think I rather would've dealt with Vee's Twisted then theirs." Astro deadpans only to immediately flush a navy blue as Sprout cackles, Cosmo hiding his own laughs behind a hand. Astro practically swallows his tongue as he's quick to try and amend it with, "Not that I would wish that on any of us!"

☁ Sprout shakes his head as he finally leans back, his own cheeks shiny- which the star shard tries to wipe at only to get swatted at, making Astro pout. Both of Sprout's arms reach around to hook around both Cosmo and Astro as he takes a final deep breath. "We'll talk with them. Maybe now they'll see reason. Because yeah. I'm not dealing with that again."

☁ "They were so scary!" Cosmo whines, leaning on Sprout's shoulder. "But also-...Hear me out-"

☁ "Stoooop." Sprout groans, tipping his head back as Astro nods solemnly. "I'm hearing."

☁ Cosmo laughs at this before you're suddenly jumping up, cheeks puffed and they already know what that entails. Cosmo grabs the nearest trash can while Astro gently pulls back anything that could get in the way while Sprout makes for the nearest medication cabinet.

☁ Cosmo holds the trash can for you as you purge the excess ichor in your body, watching your heaves with a heartbroken glance while Astro rubs your back, even if he himself looks nauseous at the sight and sounds. He's quick to switch with Sprout when he returns, measuring out the stomach medication the berry had grabbed. It had aided the rest of them when it came to rejecting the ichor and they hoped it would with you too.

☁ In the very least, as awful as it was, it was a good sight to see as it meant you were recovering in the very least. Even if your heaves sounded painful and tears tracked down your cheeks. It would a pattern that would continue throughout the night unfortunately, which they would need to stay up to assist you with, but it was a chore they were more than happy to do. You had been the one to sit with each of them throughout the night, making sure they had all the comfort you could offer at the time.

☁ So even as the minutes ticked like hours, they knew it was all worth it. Every trip to empty the trash cash, every startled awakening at the sound of your gags, every wince as you pleaded for mercy. Anything to get you back.

☁ The following days are better. The next morning, right before it could be qualified as noon, you were cognizant enough to recognize where you were, eyes unfocused as you swayed, trying to sit up only for that to be one of the worst ideas you've ever had.

☁ The boyfriend on duty is quick to come to your side, with a hand on your back as soft whispers buzzed in your ear. You curled in on yourself, eyes scrunching shut before a deep breath had you finally stabilizing enough you could blink your eyes. Sprout was right there, offering you a gentle smile as he tried to figure out what exactly you were seeing.

☁ You practically threw yourself at him, pulling him close as tears burned your eyes. You cried into his scarf as his hands slowly curled back around you, squeezing you tightly to his chest as his own shoulders shook. "Oh. bud, I've missed you."

☁ "I'm sorry." You blab. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." You cry, squeezing him tighter when it almost seems like he's going to pull away. You don't remember much about your time as a twisted except for spotting Sprout and smelling the ichor of a non-twisted toon being spilt. You prayed it wasn't you to cause that wound, that there was no wound at all, but subtly looking at his arm quickly dashes that hope.

☁ "No, no, bud you did nothing wrong." This time you allow him to pull away, only for his hands to cup your cheeks. "You're just as perfect as you always are." His green eyes shine with unshed tears, which quickly rectify that by trailing down his freckled cheeks. You sob at the sight, your own hands- with nails longer than you normally keep them- cupping his cheeks.

☁ Sprout crashed his lips against yours in a show of desperation, tears making the kiss taste salty as your shoulders fall in relief. IF he was okay, the others had to be okay, right? They had to be? You didn't hurt them too, did you? You prayed not.

☁ Pulling away, you angled his chin every which way, scanning his face as he gave you a few watery chuckles. "You're okay? All leaves, limbs and seeds?"

☁ Sprout caught your hands, pulling them down so he could look at you, nothing but sweet, adoring love in his eyes. "Leaves, limbs and seeds all attached." He coos, laying his forehead on yours as his shoulders heave with a long heavy sigh. "Oh, bud. You're okay."

☁ "You're not." You frown, feeling the tears threaten to burst out all over again. "I'm-"

☁ "It wasn't you." Sprout interrupts, making you blink. "No, a twisted flutter got me, but you? Even a twisted, you've proven you'll still protect us." His smile is sad, but relieved as you feel your stomach finally settle.

☁ You get a few moments more before the door is being slammed open, but not by another toon. No, it must've been ajar, because who else is waiting there but Blu herself, looking as grumpy as the day she accidentally fell into the snow in Bobette's shop, mewing in long, interrupted yowls as she trotted to the medical bed, jumping up and immediately crawling all over you.

☁ Sprout tried to grab her, but you waved him off, scooping up the baby and letting her place her paw on your cheek. You cooed at her, nuzzling your nose against her cold, wet one. She mewled once more before it delved into a purr, making you snicker. "I know, tell me all about how unfair your dads are."

☁ "Oi!" Sprout immediately called, looking only mildly offended before footsteps had you both looking over at the doorway once more. Cosmo was there, already panting as he leaned his head against the doorway. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, she was sleeping and then suddenly just took off and-" He looked up at that point, only for his mouth to gape open. He stilled for a second as Astro popped his head in, looking at the pastry. "Did you find-"

☁ He too was left slack-jawed before Cosmo was moving and he was following, both wrapping you in tight hugs and a flurry of kisses. It was comforting and perfect, and enough to make you forget about how awful your stomach felt.

☁ They were quick to fill you in on everything that had happened in your absence and, honestly? Hearing Astro talk about having his best friend back made your heart thrum and how happy he seemed, moreso now that he had everyone in his little family back at long last.

☁ While your side still hurt and your muscles still sung from the strain put on them. being wrapped between them felt safe. Safer than you've felt since the moment of pure terror that wracked your entire nervous system the second you knew only one of you would make it to the elevator.

☁ Still, you knew there was something on the horizon. A discussion that needed to be had and it made whatever was left in your gut churn and rot further than it already had.

☁ It didn't come until later that night when you were finally back in your room, eating something soft and easy to digest (My personal fav is oatmeal but I know now everyone can eat that so y'all get to choose <3), chatting with Cosmo when a knock at the door made you look up.

☁ Astro had popped his head in, scanning for your form before immediately relaxing when he spotted you. "Are you okay with a few visitors? Absolutely feel free to say no."

☁ You honestly hadn't expected anyone to visit you, really. Goob and Scraps had both had their own tearful reunions with you, Goob especially, and Poppy and Boxten had visited as well. You weren't overly close with anyone else, but while confused, you nodded.

☁ Astro scanned you for a second, as if to see if you were lying, but when he found nothing he stepped more fully inside. Sprout followed, immediately wounding to your side and pressing a peck to your lips. You smiled at him before looking back over, eyes widening at the two toons standing there.

☁ Shelly looked nervous, but waved even as her smile wavered, her tail giving a small, short little wag. Vee looked miserable if you were honest. You had never seen the main so...upset, making you frown. Was she upset with you? You know you probably shouldn't have pushed her, but you had no other option at the time!

☁ Astro took his own spot beside, across from where Sprout had moved to sit beside Cosmo.

☁ "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Shelly begins, tapping her fingers together before meeting your eye. "I wanted to thank you personally. And apologize. It was me you were retrieving and-"

☁ "And it wouldn't have happened if I had just picked up the pace." Vee cuts in. She makes it a point not to look at you, making you frown, fingers curling around your blanket. Vee let out a sigh, antennae giving a little spark as she wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm...So, so so-"

☁ "You have nothing to apologize for." You hold up a hand, scrunching your features. "I made my choice. You had nothing to do with what i decided. I promise. i never would've done something if it wasn't something I was sure about doing. There was never a moment I was upset with you, either of you." You're quick to reassure, sending them both a smile. Shelly returns it quickly, but Vee only gives you a glance and you frown.

☁ That was Sprout's best friend. You knew you didn't have to get along with everyone, but you wanted to get along with these two especially.

☁ Shelly seemed relieved at least, which made Astro relax at least a bit, but that wasn't enough for you. "I promise, Vee. If anything I owe you all an apology." You wilted a bit, even if Vee finally looked at you. "My twisted is...not the best, even I could admit that and I should've planned with the twisteds better rather than risk putting you guys in that situation. So for that, I apologize." You continue, continuing even if Vee looks like she's going to cut in. "It's happened, and it's fixed already. We can just blame whoever started the Ichor operation rather than try to keep playing this 'who can blame themself the most' game."

☁ Vee gapes and you smile at her softly, opening your arms. "Hug it out with me? Therefore all is forgiven and we can't blame ourselves anymore." The television looks at you, then at Shelly, then Sprout before her shoulders fall and she's slumping forward. You wrap your arms around her, feeling the chill of her metal plates. Looking over, you make eye contact with Shelly, who smiles sadly at the action. You open one of your arms and the fossil is immediately burrowing into the hug as well with her tail whapping about.

☁ When you separate, they take their leave not soon after, seemingly much lighter than when they came in. But then you're left with the other three. Astro's who's already sitting beside you, but the other two crawl onto the bed so you're all sitting in a circle of types.

☁ Your eyes dart from one to the next to the next before falling to where your knuckles are white around the blanket, having returned to clutching the fabric. You have to actively uncurl your fingers.

☁ You know there's probably tons to discuss, but you don't even know where to start.

☁ So Sprout does. He's never one to beat around the bush, especially looking back to before you all were together, and it's something you greatly admire about the berry.

☁ "We saw the scars." Is all he says, his own eyes remaining downcast as he plays with his scarf. You swallow, debating your options before breathing out, letting down the walls you normally kept up around everyone else.

☁ "Most of them are front the beginning." You admit. "I wasn't a good distractor then. I wasn't even really okay. I did it when we absolutely needed one. We had none of the trinkets we do now and didn't even think about them at the time. So I was an extractor and Cosmo knows that me extracting is like teaching a fish to fly." You spill immediately, thinking back to the lacerations that once marred your skin. "I'm sorry if they bothered you. I tried to keep them as covered up as possible. in case they...upset you all"

☁ "It's not the fact that their there, starlight. Well, I mean, that's kind of part of it, but...Why didn't you tell us?" Astro prods, laying a hand on you knee as another gentle rubs your shoulder. You bristle at the question, rolling your shoulders for a second before responding.

☁ "They aren't number one on my list of discussion topics. I'd rather forget about them personally." Simple as that.

☁ There's silence for a second before Cosmo is raising his hand, pointing to a white line that circles around his forearm. "This is from my time as a twisted. You'd remember best, but my hand was all sorts of messed up, right?"

☁ You nod at this and he points to his eye, with a matching line circling around it, so faint if he wasn't pulling attention to it, most wouldn't notice. "Half my face too, right?"

☁ You nod once more and he mimics the action. "Are you ashamed of my scars?"

☁ "No!" You're quick to bark, immediately ready to quell any worries he has, but Cosmo isn't done, pointing to Sprout- who blinks at the finger like it personally offended him. "What about Sprout? He has his own scars. You ashamed of those?"

☁ "No, Cosmo that's not-"

☁ "Then what about Astro? He's got his fair share too." The pastry points to one of the hands on your knees, which indeed had it's own smattering of scars from his time as a twisted.

☁ "No." You stare him down, gaze hard as he meets your own just as challenging. "Then why does that change for you?" You don't have an immediate answer, and Cosmo pounces on that. "What makes your scars different from ours? Why would we ever be ashamed of your scars, of your journey, when you would never dream of even thinking about that of ours?"

☁ You gape at him, trying to find some sort of defense, but you can't. He seems satisfied at that, but it's not for long as you're speaking once more.

☁ "Mine were self-inflicted." You avoid looking at them, even as your heart practically chokes you. "You never signed up to be a twisted. I willingly trained and worked to become a distractor. These come with the territory."

☁ There's silence for a second before Sprout is speaking once more. "Do they hurt?"

☁ You frown at the question, but shake your head. "No. They don't."

☁ Sprout exhales in relief at this before leaning back on his palms. "This isn't meant to make you feel any type of way about them, bud. They're yours and we understand better than most that scars can bring...complicated feelings. There's just...so many. We just want you to care a little more about yourself."

☁ "Seeing you in danger all the time is hard on his heart." Astro gently jokes, even if he gets a light kick in return for the jab. The celestial takes a breath before leaning on your shoulder, one of his hands reaching to hold your own. "We just want you safe, starlight, above all else. The bed's too big for three of us."

☁ You take a breath that quivered in your lungs before nodding slowly. You had expressed to Astro before how terrified you were of your own twisted and never wished to expose it to them, but did so anyway.

☁ You could only imagine the fear they were feeling the entire time, especially on the retrieval.

☁ "I'm sorry. Not for doing what I did, I don't regret and never will." You began, finally looking back up at them. "But I agree. I've been a bit careless. It's a distractor's job to keep the twisteds occupied, but not by being a dumbass. I don't want to give up distracting though." By the end you're practically pleading.

☁ "And we would never ask you too." Sprout gives you a soft smile. "Even if you stress me the fuck out, you enjoy it. Just...maybe keep the distance between you and the twisteds a bit bigger. And keep an escape route open whenever possible. And a bandage on hand. And a can of pop. And-"

☁ You laugh, wiping your tears as you shake your head. "I get it. I'm sorry I scared you all."

☁ "Just remind us to never piss you off." Cosmo shakes his head. "You're scary when angry. Although, watching you protect Sprout like that-"

☁ "We are not having this conversation again!" Sprout immediately shuts down, hitting the pastry in the face with a pillow, quickly getting a swift hit in retaliation. The two tussle for a second, making you give a wet laugh as Astro nuzzles into you. Your finger taps on the back of his hand, silently asking for an explanation.

☁ He hums in acknowledgement at the unasked question, moving to kiss your shoulder. "You're hot in all forms. Cosmo especially likes your protective side."

☁ This makes you bark out a laugh, calling the attention of the other two back to you.

☁ "What are you laughing at?" Sprout grinned, straddling Cosmo who was squirming under the hand on his forehead keeping him pinned down.

☁ "You're all such dorks." You snicker, grinning before holding your hands out to them. "Hugs?"

☁ You're only able to let out a yelp at Sprout turns instead pull you into his chest, the other two also wrapped in the absolute bear hug. It makes your heart thrum happily, especially when Blu manages to pop her head up in a crevice and mew her greetings happily.

☁ So even while the first few nights were hard, as you lay there, wrapped in the embrace of your boys and feeling their laughter once more, you know that tonight won't be nearly as so.

☁ And if absolutely nothing else, that was what made it all worth it.

AN: Guys, remember how I made that joke (It wasn't a joke) about hating that Rodger and taking it out on their Bobette? GUESS WHO'S NOW A MARKETABLE PLUSH >:) Huge huge huge shoutout to @belifbel

RAHH LOOK AT THEM

#dandy's world x reader #dandys world x reader #astro dandys world #astro novalite #astro x reader #cosmo doesn't have a last name #cosmo x reader #dandy's world astro novalite x reader #dandy's world cosmo #dandy's world cosmo x reader #dandy's world sprout seedly #dandys world sprout #sprout x reader #moonberrycake x reader #moonberrycake

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4doras · 2 days ago

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DOCTOR! DOCTOR! ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

how could a star player who never makes a mistake keep getting hurt? ⊹♡

basketballer!gunwook x studentnurse!reader

genre. fluff, mentions of getting hurt

wc. 1.4k

a/n. doctor doctor is stuck in my head and i’ve been wanting to make a gunwook fic, so it’s perfect timing ^_^

everyone knew park gunwook — gunwook, the star player of the school’s basketball team, gunwook, the guy who never missed a shot, gunwook, who wouldn’t miss a game for the world. he loved basketball, and everyone loved him, everyone except you.

you didn’t hate him per se, but you wouldn’t seem to find the hype around him. of course, you could agree if people spoke about his looks, but his personality? he wasn’t anything special.

more under the cut!

gunwook was flawless on the court with his precision and skill. no one could ever remember a time when he made a mistake, but lately, something odd had started. ever since you became the nurse at the clinic, gunwook had been getting injured more than usual. it was as if every time he played, he’d somehow end up with a bruise or a twisted ankle, always finding his way to you to get treated.

you couldn’t understand why he; who was so perfect, kept making these mistakes on the court. due to your slight dislike of him, you tried to keep your distance, but with each injury, you ended up seeing him more. and though you didn’t want to admit it, a small part of you wondered if it was more than just bad luck.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

“y/n?” a voice echoed through your silent office, “could you bring your kit and come to the court? gunwook got hit in the head.” you recognised the boy as one of gunwook’s friends, another basketball player. “alright, i’ll be right there.” you kept your composure light and smiley, but you couldn’t think of a way how gunwook, someone who was also known to have good agility, could’ve been hit in the head hard enough to need someone to care for him.

you weren’t in any rush to go over, not like the other players were, but when you noticed him rubbing his head, you figured that you might as well check, turning your slow walk into a paced jog.

as you made your way over, you noticed his friends were acting a bit… strange. they weren’t laughing or making jokes, but there was a weird energy between them — glances exchanged, suppressed smiles, like they were all in on something. gunwook wasn’t in much pain, just a bit shaken, but his friends were acting like everything was perfectly normal, almost too normal, considering the situation. you couldn’t put your finger on it, but the way they behaved around gunwook left you feeling a little suspicious. they weren't concerned, not in the way you'd expect after an impact like that, making you wonder if they were up to something.

you crouched by him, holding him up so he’d sit up properly, had he been laying down flat before. “does it hurt here?” you gently put pressure on his forehead, unsure of where he got hit. “a little,” his voice carried a hint of discomfort, “it’s kinda like… here.” he took your hand off of his forehead, bringing it to the side of his head. “tell me when it hurts.” you gradually applied more and more pressure on the area, promptly hearing a wince. “i think you’ll be okay, just be careful. follow me, i’ll get you some ice.” you got back up, extending your hand toward him, offering him help to get back on his feet.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

he sat in front of you, waiting for whatever help you could give. once you looked at gunwook closer, you noticed a few scratches on his hands and a small cut on his forehead. it wasn’t serious, but you still reached for some ointment and a plaster to tend to the wounds. carefully applying it to his forehead, you found herself realizing gunwook looked a lot cuter up close than you ever really paid attention to before. his features were soft, and even with the small scrapes, there was something about him that made him seem a bit more attractive than she’d expected. you quickly pushed the thought aside, focusing on helping him rather than letting her mind wander.

you couldn’t be thinking like this — about gunwook, or anything else that made your heart flutter a little, but it was hard. it didn’t make sense. you knew he wouldn’t like you back, and that was fine. you didn't think less of yourself, but the truth was clear: there were so many other girls that were prettier and ‘more his type’ who thought of him the same way too. you had no reason to dwell on these feelings, especially when it wouldn’t lead anywhere. you couldn’t let herself get caught up in something pointless.

“focus, y/n. don’t daydream, your patient is hurt!” he whined, playing a small pout on his lips. “i’m not… i’m just a bit tired.” you hoped your lie was strategic enough, but acting wasn’t your major. he could see straight through you. “hm,” he cooed, “tired of what?” gunwook tilted his head to the side in mild confusion, the corner of his lips curled up into a playful smile as he looked at you. it was almost as if he knew that you weren’t telling the truth and was waiting for you to explain. “tired of you always coming here. i thought you were the best player, how come you keep ending up hurt?”

gunwook couldn’t help but giggle, seeing how clueless you were. you had no idea how obvious his feelings were. it was like a secret game to him, watching you so unaware of how much he liked you, despite him constantly creating a reason to find you.

gunwook knew exactly what he was doing when he’d fake an injury during basketball practice. it wasn’t that he actually got hurt, but he’d always manage to ‘slip’ or ‘twist’ something just enough to need attention. but the real reason? he loved having your attention on him. he’d sit there, trying to hide his grin, pretending to be in pain just to have you close. it wasn’t that he wanted to get hurt, but the way you cared for him made his heart race, and the excuse to see you — even for just a moment — was worth it every time.

“you’re seriously blind, huh?” he folded his arms, an irritating smirk on his lips. “i like you, silly. i’ve only been getting hurt because i wanna see you, and it wasn’t even that big of an issue… to me, at least.” gunwook couldn’t help but smile, his eyes lit up with a quiet confidence, as if the words he just said were exactly what he’d been waiting to say for a long time.

“what?” you couldn’t find the right words. you wanted to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn’t come out. every time you opened your mouth, it felt like they got stuck somewhere in your throat, tangled. the more he came to your office, it became more obvious to you that you liked him. you knew that much — maybe more than you even realized; but trying to put it into words felt impossible. it wasn’t that you were unsure of your feelings, it was just that every time you looked at him, all you could think about was how much you wanted him to know, but not knowing how to say it.

“i’m not joking, y/n. why do you think i’d keep coming here for something so small, like a cut? i could take care of that at home. i come here because i like you, because i want to see you.” gunwook looked at you, his eyes held an honesty that was impossible to miss, as if everything he was feeling was laid bare in that quiet, unwavering gaze.

“please, give me a chance, y/n.” you couldn’t say no to him, his eyes were basically kneeling in front of you, pleading for you to say yes. “you’re so desperate, it really doesn’t fit your look.” you giggled. you couldn’t believe the park gunwook was on his knees for you. “is that a no?” he said, in a much, much sadder voice. “i didn’t say it was.” you couldn’t help but laugh at his face. “i like you too, gunwook. but you better stop getting hurt for me.” you crossed your arms, pretending to look annoyed, but the playful smirk tugging at your lips betrayed you.

“i promise i’ll stop,” he put his pinky out, “and i’ll win every game for you.” his smile grew bigger. you locked your pinky with his, and pressed your thumbs together. “you better.”

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eelliotss · 2 days ago

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— A Curse Between Us, part 1

Bound by a curse and centuries of longing, he scours the universe to reclaim the woman who once shared his soul, only to find her fractured by forgotten memories and a life that no longer includes him. As he fights to reignite their bond, you emerge—a black box of secrets and power capable of shattering the fragile balance of his kingdom and plan, a new variable that alters the balance of his life.

“I was supposed to be the last of us,” he breathed.

Will she always be his fate, or will your introduction into the picture tip in balance of his destiny?

⚠️ : Spoilers to Sylus’ myth. PS. reader is not MC, and in this story, Sylus is still a dragon!

masterlist

The story of Sylus and MC, Milena Cross, was a tapestry woven from threads of love, survival, and shared memories. Their connection had been fierce and all-consuming, a bond forged in the crucible of struggle and sealed by a curse. That curse—an ancient, desperate act she had cast upon him before his life was extinguished by the injuries he had sustained trying to free her from the greed and cruelty of men—ensured their fates were irrevocably intertwined.

When Sylus opened his eyes again, flashes of their love, fragments of shared laughter and pain, and the echoes of her voice came flooding back like shards of light piercing a darkened room. Half of his soul still resided with her, tethering him to her existence. With this realization came an unyielding obsession: he would find her, no matter the cost.

He scoured the universe in a ceaseless hunt, toppling regimes, invading planets, and ripping through galaxies like a force of nature. Prisons could not hold him; armies could not stop him. His path was littered with destruction, each step bringing him closer to her. Finally, his journey led him to Earth—to the underbelly of human civilization, the N109 Zone. Here, amidst the corruption and chaos, he found her. His other half.

To ensure her safety, Sylus claimed the N109 Zone as his domain, establishing himself as its unrivaled ruler. If he was the danger, none could threaten her. From the shadows, he watched her every movement, biding his time, crafting the perfect moment to reintroduce himself. He envisioned a reunion as fiery and intense as the bond they once shared.

But before Sylus could act, she came to him. Yet, the moment he looked into her eyes, his heart fractured. She didn’t remember him. The love, the curse, the fragments of his soul that tied them together—she had forgotten it all. Worse, she despised him, her hatred a searing wound deeper than the sword that had once pierced his flesh.

He tried to reignite her memories, to remind her of who they were, but every effort only pushed her further away. The realization that she no longer knew him—no longer loved him—was a torment he couldn’t escape. And so, he resigned himself to wait, as he always had, enduring the agony of her absence even while she was near.

During her presence in the N109 Zone, she struck a deal with him: his assistance in gaining entry to an exclusive auction in exchange for something she had that he wanted: to resonate with him. Sylus agreed. After all, he would stop at no means to bring the world to his woman’s feet if that is what she wanted.

At the auction, he left her to attend to his business as soon as they entered the auction house. “Have fun,” he said with a smirk, handing her his card. “Act as good bait.” While she navigated the opulent chaos of the auction, Sylus was escorted to a private room by the staff. As he trailed, a nagging feeling of unease prickled at his senses, a faint presence trailing him like a shadow. When the door opened, he found himself in a room overflowing with treasures—jewels, gold, protocores, weapons. His eyes swept across the hoard, but his gaze snagged on a single figure standing amidst the wealth.

You were studying a pendant, your fingers brushing its surface as if trying to decode its secrets. Your black dress clung to your figure, flaring out elegantly at your feet. Silver and gemstones adorned you, shimmering like frost under the dim light, but it was you who outshone everything in the room.

Sylus felt a flicker of irritation. Your presence was unwelcome, but you weren’t his concern—at least, not until he recognized your aura. Dismissing you, he turned his attention to his target. “Hello, Thomas,” he greeted smoothly, his voice a low purr. “I think you know what I’m here for.”

Despite Thomas’ resistance, Sylus was able to handle his business quickly. With his objective achieved, Sylus was ready to leave, but the stranger caught his attention once more. Something about her presence unsettled him. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her.

Then he saw them—your eyes. Midnight, ancient, brimming with power.

A chill ran through him, a primal instinct gripping his core. His sharp eyes narrowed, scanning you not just with his gaze but with something deeper—an ancient sense that stirred within him. There was something about your aura, a pressure that pressed against his chest, not suffocating but undeniable. It was the kind of power that couldn’t be disguised or dulled, no matter how much silver and silk adorned you.

“You’re…” His voice faltered, the single word caught between disbelief and awe as he took a step closer. It was then that he saw it, unmistakable now—a flicker of fire dancing in your midnight eyes, a glint of something ancient and untamed that no mortal could ever possess. The air around you seemed to ripple, almost as if the space itself was bending to your presence.

The realization hit him like a thunderclap. You weren’t just powerful—you were like him.

A dragon.

His breath caught. It was impossible. Dragons were supposed to be gone, their kind reduced to myth, memory, and him. And yet, standing before him was undeniable proof that he was not the last.

“I was supposed to be the last of us,” he breathed, the words heavy with a mix of wonder and dread. But as he spoke, the corner of your lips quirked up—not in kindness, but in a knowing, almost amused challenge. The room felt smaller now, charged with an energy he hadn’t felt in centuries, and in that moment, Sylus knew the balance of power had shifted.

This was no mere encounter. It was a collision of forces that would change everything.

The revelation was a shock to his core. Dragons were supposed to be extinct, or so he had believed. Yet here you were, standing in front of him, radiating strength. That strength set him on edge, and he dropped into a defensive stance, his instincts roaring to life.

You, for your part, remained calm. You had no interest in a fight, at least not here. Your presence at the auction was merely business—on behalf of your father, the second-most powerful ruler of the N109 Zone. Few had ever seen you, and fewer still knew the extent of your abilities. But Sylus was no fool, and he could feel the weight of your power like a storm brewing on the horizon.

The room crackled with tension as the two dragons faced each other, their fates unknowingly beginning to intertwine.

Note: I gave MC a name because it just felt so weird simply calling a character mc. I want to make this a series, and hope you enjoy the plot as much as I do!

#sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lnds #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you

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yuurei20 · 17 hours ago

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Translation from Twisted Wonderland the 2nd novel: Overblot Aftermath

"'I see… understood.'

It is difficult to gauge the masked headmage’s expression, but it is Leona whose thoughts are somehow even more unreadable. There is neither anger nor regret. It is as though he had been possessed by a spirit, and it has since been exorcised.

‘Therefore, Savanaclaw Dorm’s participation in the tournament is hereby forfeit, and you will be considered disqualified. Additional consequences are to be decided after all victims’ statements and requests have been taken into account. Is that clear?'

Riddle and Jack watch, in silence, as Leona nods his agreement. Even Ruggie bites his lip in resignation.

The atmosphere is heavy, despite how the string of so many incidents has now come to a close. For all that he despises conflict and for all that it has finally been resolved, Yuuya takes no pleasure in the moment.

So much harm has been done. The injured people, the uproar of the procession, Leona’s overblot—he cannot help but wonder if it all could have been prevented. He and Grim were the first ones to hear about the situation from the headmage. Perhaps there was more they could have done.

Out of everything, the thing that concerns Yuuya the most is Jack. While it did turn into a confrontation with his own dorm, for more than a few reasons he seemed to have been looking forward to the spelldrive tournament more than anyone.

Yuuya remembers how Jack’s eyes had sparkled while he described Leona’s prowess on the field. The tournament will proceed properly, just as he had hoped. But Yuuya feels terrible that Jack himself is not to be a part of it, despite all his anguish and hard work.

Yuuya glances to his side to see Jack wearing a stern expression. It is unlikely that he would be open to receiving sympathy. Knowing this, Yuuya cannot bring himself to speak.

‘Now then, let us head to the infirmary.’

While the headmage attempts to aid him, Leona shakes him off. Several times he fails to rise to his feet, bracing himself with both hands upon the ground—it is an unbearable sight.

Unable to watch any longer Jack opens his mouth, but before he manages to speak there is a different voice, from far away.

‘Everybody hold up!’

‘Hm? Ain’t that Cater?’ Grim squints into the clear blue sky.

Cater is on a broom, and headed straight for them. Behind him there are others coming into sight as well, with Trey in the lead. The shadowy figures grow larger as they approach.

And it seems that Trey has yet to fully recover from his injury: he takes Cater’s hand and gingerly dismounts from his broom, wincing slightly. His ankle must still be paining him."

#twstnovel2 #twisted wonderland #twst translations

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sheepispink · 3 hours ago

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A TICKING TIME BOMB

pairings: simon ghost riley/sergeant!reader

tags: platonic/romantic (up to u), angst, hurt/comfort, dissociation, scars (his and yours), injuries, temporary blindness, cuddling, fluff

Summary: Assigned on your first proper mission with the task force, things go wrong leaving you a.. little bit injured. Well, maybe a bit. It's bad enough the task force have to take turns looking after you like you're the team's hamster or something. It makes you uncomfortable somewhat, and you’re exhausted already, so when it gets around to Ghost’s turn, you break.

WC: 6.8k

——————————————————————-

As always, the simplest of missions always ended up going haywire, though that seemed to follow you wherever you went. This time, you were tasked with a simple job: get in under Ghost and Soap’s cover, plant the bomb and get out again. Straightforward, plenty of preparation beforehand and no room for mistakes— after all, the team consisted of only the most specialised operatives. Well, you liked to describe it that way, but the rest of the team were far more experienced than you. It’s not like you were one to typically put yourself down or the like, but it was your first time working without your usual team. Usually, you had them right beside you whenever you helped the taskforce, always backup and nothing more. That was until you were spending your Friday night with Gaz in his task force common room, chilling out before Price suddenly walks in and addresses Kyle about the next mission. You took the moment to let your mind wander a bit, already feeling the tiredness seeping in. An absent-minded yawn led you to unintentionally make yourself known, Price’s eyes suddenly narrowing at you.

“S-sorry.. Didn't mean to interrupt..” You say sheepishly, sitting up straight from your slouched position against the arm rest. Surprisingly, Price just shakes his head and rubs his beard curiously. “Didn’t you take the same year-long course Soap did?” He asks, and you slowly nod, remembering the hell you went through, but it was damn worth it for the skills you earned.

“Perfect, Gaz, bring them to the meeting tomorrow.”

Okay, so maybe there was a lot more to it than that, but you really had been half awake and, before you knew it, you were in that meeting with room layouts being thrown at you like bricks. You were slightly terrified to say the least; though, you were a sergeant now, so you had already expected that your usual work would change more than you had thought.

Now here you were, clearing the next corridor with ease as adrenaline pumped through your veins. Most are outside trying to take out the others, but there were always going to be a few strays that passed under the radar. Ducking into the next hall, you finally find where you were supposed to set down the bomb. If everything had gone right, Price and Gaz would be in the hallways not too far ahead of you and Soap and Ghost a bit behind. That meant all hallways had successfully been cleared from strays, allowing you to easily crouch down and begin to set up the explosives by the pillar. You’ve done this a million times, both in training and missions, and yet your heart is racing all the same. Something just feels wrong, even if the Captain had just radioed in and confirmed success in clearing the path ahead. You stick the last wire in, watching the timer begin to slowly tick.

“This is Bravo 7-2 speaking, the explosives are secured at the pillar and timer has begun.” Forcing the tremble out of your voice is near impossible especially when your stomach churns with uncertainty; that’s not the point though, you need to get out–right now. The clack of your boots against the tiling is loud and heavy, picking up with each second that passes. “I repeat, this is Bravo 7-2, the explosives have been set. Get out of range now.”

Before you can turn the corridor, your heart stops in your chest, and you feel yourself slamming to a stop. Footsteps drawing closer. More than one, maybe even three sets. With gritted teeth, you steady your gun and peek around the hall.

Thirty seconds

Another falls down, crumpling to the floor whilst his friend curses in Russian, now running towards you. Where the hell had he come from? His hands drop his gun, the empty barrel evident in the lighter noise it makes as it clatters to the floor, before landing them on your shoulders.

Twenty seconds.

You shoot at him quickly, throwing his slumped body off of you with a heavy thump. There's no time to catch your breath— you need to be out of here.

Ten seconds.

Your feet are moving and yet it seems like you’re not getting anywhere.

Five seconds.

“Bravo 7-2? This is Bravo 0-6, everyone is out.”

The soldiers had only taken up ten seconds of your time which would be nothing to anyone else in life—unfortunately, those seconds mattered the most in this line of work. Your thumb can barely even touch the cold metal of the radio before the bright light goes off behind you, debris showering over you as the building echoes the loud noise between its walls. The ringing in your ears is practically deafening, not to mention the flames that lick at your uniform as you’re thrown forward into the wall. The ceiling above makes a sickening crunch before promptly falling down and giving you mere seconds to roll out the way. It’s still for a minute as you sit there slumped against the rickety foundations that once held the building, every thought of yours at a standstill in your head.

“This is Bravo 6-2 to Bravo 7-2, what is your status?” The crackle of the walkie-talkie could easily be mistaken for the relentless ringing in your ears, only serving to make you groan and slump your head a little more. “I repeat, this is Bravo 6-2 to Bravo 7-2. Sergeant..? Are you alright?”

Gaz’s voice is still jingling through your head long before his concerns pass through your ears; the explosion had rewired your brain and changed the connections of your nerves, jumbling everything inside you into a giant heap that could be comparable to the disorganised look of Frankenstein’s creation.

“Gaz.. I’m alright, I think.” You mumble out, slowly pushing the rubble off of you, well you think it’s rubble— who knows. There's smoke all throughout the air, toxic fumes reaping through the hallways you roamed moments before. One arm reaches up to cover your mouth and face, coughing harshly into your sooted uniform. “I’m comin’, give me a sec..” Why did your chest feel so tight? Something was definitely wrong, but then again everything has seemed to go wrong in the last thirty seconds. You could sit here and complain about the burns on your leg, the clench of your lungs or the sting that forces your eyes closed. But that wouldn't be quite useful, would it?

You manage to stumble your way into fresh air, allowing you to finally deeply inhale the cold air that seems to shiver every nerve you thought you lost. It’s not long before Soap has rushed up beside you, giving you a small pat on your back as he lifts your arm over his shoulder. “C’mon, there’s no way you’re out cold by a little boom, eh?” You force a dry chuckle out as his words, even more so at his scouse accent, allowing him to aid you into the back of the exfil truck where you suppose the others are sitting— your visor is completely covered in dust right now, you can barely make out Soap’s stupid haircut as he sits you down.

“What the hell happened back there?” The rough voice fills your ears, clearer than Ghost’s and holds far more authority as well. That's only how you can tell them apart right now since squinting isn't helping much. You suppose Gaz is on his left, and maybe Ghost is beside you? Soap is patting you down for injuries whilst you cower under Price’s harsh tone. “Some slipped through, tried to stop me when I left.” You fumble to explain yourself, coughing harshly from the fumes you had accidentally inhaled back there. “Didn’t you clear all the hallways first? You shouldn't have acted without being sure.”

“I’m not badly hurt, I swear.” Those feelings from earlier fill your head, the doubt whilst you were wiring the explosives— you shouldn’t have ignored that gut feeling, but how would you have known?

With a soft sigh, you look up to meet his gaze properly. “I didn't mean to rush; you were all in position. I just didn't want to cause an unnecessary delay, sorry..”

He lets out a low scoff and Soap snorts beside you, still holding your arm over his shoulders and the truck starts to rumble and move over the unsteady ground. “Hey— w-what's so funny?” Now you’re confused, wondering if you’re about to get the death sentence or the like. “You could at least look at yer captain when yer apologising, you idiot.”

Now you’re very confused, turning your head to face your captain again or well face what you assume to be him considering your visor was still blurry. You were sure Price was right there, you could just make out his signature hat atop his head but then again this visor was really blurry. Now that the adrenaline has finally settled down, you lift your sleeve to rub the dirt on your visor away. What you hadn't realised is that you didn't have one, well anymore; it must’ve fallen off during the explosion. You don't think much and just rub at your eyes instead, trying to rid the blurriness.

Until it doesn't go.

You’ve opened your eyes wide, rubbed at every crevice in them and blinked multiple times to no avail. The three of them watched your flailing about, curious as to why you were so intent on rubbing your eyes like a fly was buzzing in them.

“I am looking at my captain—” You continue to argue, sure that some dirt must’ve gotten into your eye, but they know something’s wrong the minute you point straight ahead at Gaz, convinced it’s him as you ramble on about his hat. You’re silenced quickly by Ghost who firmly, but not harshly, grabs your chin to allow him and Soap to stare at the hazy look in your eyes. “What can you see Sergeant?”

He says, rough voice rumbling out right beside your ear which you most certainly would’ve jumped at if not for his touch that reminded you of his presence.

“Well it’s a bit blurry but-” A curse escaped from Price and you assume he’s the one who stands in front of you now, holding his arm up though you can't really make out anything but the blur of the colours of his uniform. “How many fingers am I holdin’ up, kid?”

The truck goes silent when you guess five, only his fist remaining in the air.

Your foot taps the floor anxiously as you sit in the infirmary, waiting for a medic to attend to you. Soap had escorted you here, trying to cheer you up with empty hopes, but he had left you whilst he attended the debriefing. In truth, you were even more terrified than before. You’d been shot at, had bones broken multiple times, but now you were visually impaired for who knows how long— if it was even temporary that is. Soon enough you’re speaking to the medic, failing to hide the shake in your breath as they examine your eyes one by one before eventually concluding that it’ll take two weeks to fully recover from. Somehow you had forgotten about the bullet that sliced into your leg which they were now preparing to stitch, having been too disoriented earlier to even notice Soap wrapping up the blood around your shin. The pain had been excruciating everywhere when you first stumbled out, especially those burns you hadn't yet showed them.

This sucks, not only had you made a fool of yourself earlier by absolutely not looking at Price when apologising, but you’re also about a nerve away from crying on this infirmary bed. You never realised how terrifying it’d be to live totally unaware of your surroundings, considering you managed to always be alert for everything, so this is practically hell for you. You can only hear the recruits on the bed beside you, chattering non-stop, and it’s only more overwhelming when you can’t even see directly where they are. Not to mention you can't even fend for yourself anymore— hell you’d describe yourself as useless and you are. The pain still ripples up your legs, burns from the explosion, and your head aches from the override of thoughts running through it. It just hurts so much.

A tear begins to well in your eyes before you suddenly hear the door open, familiar footsteps approaching. “7-2.” It calls out gruffly, the blurred figure crouching before your bed to look up at your dazed face as you sit there pitifully. There’s no one else that voice can belong to, so you just pitifully reply with your small voice.

“Ghost.” It’s hard not to miss the long sigh he lets out, likely looking over your current pathetic display.

Of course, you had heard the news already—since the holidays were coming around, most soldiers would be off base including any medics that usually would’ve looked after you whilst you were out of action. Somehow, a unanimous decision had been chosen that the task force members would take shifts looking after you for the duration of your recovery. Price would take the earliest days, Soap for two days, same with Gaz and then a week and a bit with Ghost, considering he never celebrated the holidays anyway. Ghost already had a feeling you weren't up to that mission, even if you often excelled with everything else— new people weren't exactly your forte. Especially working under Price like that— he could be quite the intimidating man when he wanted to be. So to say the least, you were feeling terrible about this new arrangement, even if you were friends with Soap and Gaz quite closely— you couldn't just make them look after you.

“Don’t make me drag you now. You need to rest, in your room. Johnny will bring you food later.” You soon manage to find a steady pace, hand holding his sleeve tightly, but it’s not as worrisome considering it’s only the pair of you walking through the corridors. You had guessed so by the lack of footsteps and the fact it was supposedly very late. It’s weird how you two always manage to be brought together in these early hours, only for him to disappear again when the light comes. Like a Ghost you suppose. “What's that stupid smirk on your face for?” He scoffs, and you’re positive he barely gave you a glance as he spoke. Instead of answering, you shrug, deciding not to tell him about the sudden nostalgia you had just felt.

“D’ya think the Captain is actually mad at me?” You say, switching the topic entirely to the topic you’ve been mulling over for a while now. It nags at the back of your head, like an annoying fly buzzing around your ears. Thankfully not a hornet.

“No.”

You stare blankly at him, trying not to snicker at his blunt answer as you attempt to press him for more. “Just no?” When you receive a silent nod, a low sigh escapes you and your free hand absentmindedly starts to fiddle with the ends of your uniform as you navigate the halls with his help. “I knew I shouldn't have joined that mission; it’s not the same as working with my team as I originally thought.” You ramble, spilling your thoughts into the silence that he left between you too. He lets out a grunt, urging you on and so you continue. “I really did do as best as I could though. I still don't quite understand how those two soldiers slipped through my radar.”

“Are you sure you weren’t blind before then?”

At his insult, your eyes widen, and you go through a series of annoyed expressions before grumbling some insult beneath your breath.

He’s left you at your bedroom soon enough, making sure you’re settled in bed before he switches the light off and leaves you alone for the night. Despite the exhaustion wracking through your body, you can't quite manage to fall asleep straight away, still tossing and turning with worries. The main one seemed to be the fact they’d be looking after you for the remainder of your state– you were half considering calling your parents in London to come and pick you up. But… you suppose that would be a burden on them, especially since this is so far, and they were never quite supportive of the whole army thing. You really didn't want to deal with yet another lecture and an ‘I told you so’. It’s not like you want to laze around for the entirety of your recovery period, but there's not much you can do whilst temporarily blind, and you really don’t want the others hanging around your every move. Either way it seemed like you were stuck in this situation for now.

Thankfully, your bags had already been packed considering that the mission had been done right before holidays began so you had preparations ahead. You wake up lazily the next morning, a throb in your head as you hear heavy footsteps enter. For a moment, you panic and try to clear the blur in your eyes before your exhausted mind catches up with the current situation, and you sigh, turning your head in hopes of hearing the footsteps’ owner’s voice.

“We’re leaving in ten, kid.” Price’s voice rings out as the sound of rummaging in drawers rings out. “Second draw down.” You mumble, and he gives you a mumbled thanks before handing you your army shirt and trousers. “Leave the door open when you’re finished, alright?” You give him a nod in response, the heavy thumps of his boots disappearing as the door creaks shut.

Being looked after by Price initially served to be pretty uncomfortable on your part, always feeling that you had to be acting right since he was your captain and all. You still felt guilty of what happened in the mission, and you couldn’t quite tell if he was annoyed at you or not, unable to see his body language which would’ve given it all away. Too stubborn to actually ask him for help like anyone would do, you decided to persevere and try to figure it out on your own. That meant whenever he’d leave you alone in favour of going grocery shopping or the like, you’d walk laps around this new room in an attempt to learn the layout so you could do things by yourself. He only found out when he heard a short cry of pain in the early morning, coming to check on you in bed only to find you had somehow fallen into the bathtub in search of the sink.

This led you to be passed over to Soap with new instructions to be supervised at all times. It wasn't like you’d make it much easier for him though, considering you could persuade him pretty quickly to let you off, but before you know it Soap has dropped you off at Gaz’s door. You weren't particularly good at keeping him happy and soon enough he has dropped you off at Ghost’s flat. Oops.

“I heard you’ve been causing trouble with the others?” You can almost hear a gruff amusement in his tone, his hand on the small of your back as he helps you inside. You hear the soft thump of your small duffel bag on the floor along with the shuffle of him taking off his shoes. “I didn’t cause trouble, they just want to coddle me too much.” You can almost feel the raised eyebrow he gives you at that, and he gives you a rough pat on the shoulder as if to confirm it.

“So they just gave me a list for nothing, huh?”

Before you can respond, he’s listing off all the instructions the others had come up with, a sheepish look on your face as he calls you out.

“Don’t let her walk around unsupervised.”

“I was stretching my legs!”

“Hide any electrical appliances in the kitchen.”

“I wanted some water; I didn't know he had something on the stove!”

“You almost fell out a window?”

“I wanted fresh air!”

He lets out a sigh, gently pushing you to sit on a stool as he helps you undo your shoes despite the protests you’re currently giving. “Seems like you’re quite the handful even with no eyesight. Lucky for you, I’ll be watching you at all times.” That makes you blink in surprise, despite the fact you can't even see. “That's not possible, you’d have to go out once a while.” You push yourself up to a stand when he’s done, fuzzy socks still on from when you dressed yourself this morning. “Trust me, you won't get a chance.”

Over the next few days, Ghost doesn't leave you alone for a second. When he’s cooking, he’s in the kitchen barely a few steps away and the rare chance he goes out to grab something from the shops, he locks you in the car with the radio low. You even tried to pretend to sleep once only for him to pat your cheek until you swatted at his hand, dragging you to the car to wait for him.

You’re sitting in the car, bored out of your mind when you hear the door handle get pulled at. For a second you flinch, unsure why he hasn't opened the door yet if it was really him who was opening it. What if it was still locked and someone was trying to get into the car? What if— “Dammit, got too many things in my hands.” He mumbles as he finally opens the door, reaching behind the seats to place the shopping bags there. You look over to him, slightly tired from being woken up early but curious as to what he has in his hand, after all you can only make out a faint shape of what seems to be a bottle.. Maybe?

“Here, got you something.” It’s far more cream than your typical coffee, but it tastes good anyway as he gently holds the cup for you, helping you hold it with your hands before letting go. “Thanks Lt..” You sip it down, enjoying the sweetness that comes with it, though somehow makes you feel even sleeper than what it’s supposed to do, keep you awake. He chuckled when your eyes only grow droopier, resting the weight of his palm on your head for a moment before letting go. “Alright, let’s get you back to sleep then.” He hums, kicking the car into drive before he’s making his way through the streets once again. It’s not like you do much but sleep anymore, especially since your eyes are a little sensitive at the moment due to some eye drops the doctors gave you. He only really wakes you for meals or something he has to really tell you.

This also means you and Ghost don't actually talk all that much. He’s always up to something, and you’re passed out on your air mattress to even notice, snoring quietly with your lips parted. To an outsider, it’d seem like you’re actively avoiding him from the silence in your relationship, however, for Ghost it’s quite the opposite.

Every time you drift off, he’s grateful, knowing you’ve missed out on at least a month's worth of sleep because of all the back to back missions. The higher the rank you grew, the less sleep you seemed to get, especially as people started to demand more out of you— that’s just how the military worked. Hell, the whole team was lacking sleep, though he knew something about you the others didn't. The reason you were kicking up so much trouble when you stayed with them is because you were restless— you couldn't quite feel comfortable around them. No, it wasn't because you didn't feel safe around them, he’s seen you collapse against Gaz’s shoulder in the heli far too many times to count. It wasn't because of Price’s status as a Captain either, no, it was something else entirely. Ghost was elusive compared to the others, seemingly not paying attention to anyone that wasn't of the mission’s interest, and thus made him a silent creature than the worry warts the others turned into. This is exactly how you always passed out in his presence; finally letting down your constant worries about being perceived by others, you figured he wouldn't glance at you for a second. And so, he’d watch from behind his mask as your shoulders quietly slumped, giving into the rest you had craved for weeks. You had received quite the scolding after the mission, and he had seen the way your eyebrows furrowed each time you were around the others, afraid of being some kind of burden.

He walks over to you as you doze off early, only eight pm, and you have drool spilling past your lips and staining your cheek. It’s a cute sight, really, especially since he’s completely aware that you think he doesn't know about all these little parts of you. He figured you’ll be okay now, the tissue in his hand wiping your mouth carefully before he grips the blankets a little too tightly, yet slowly pulls them up to your neck. He’d barely even needed to keep you entertained like the others, not when your body has subconsciously accepted his presence, constantly calm and quiet as you recover. A little part of him wishes you don't recover so soon, quite enjoying your confusion when you try to figure out where his voice is coming from in your sleep induced haze. Eventually he leaves you be, the little alarm clock flashing the late time on his desk, his past office now your make do bedroom.

Your head’s been swirling for a while now, thoughts muddling together from your half awake state and the small nightmare that had jolted you awake. It’s hard to stay calm when all you see when you wake is another blur, the room around you pitch black and full of terror. You haven't felt this since you were at Soap's place, but thankfully he had stayed up late binging some series he missed, the faint chuckles able to snap you out of the fear creeping into your throat. Though now, it was quiet, all the sleep you had caught up on making it nearly impossible for you to force yourself back to sleep if you tried. You were too awake, too aware, and alert as you carried on frantically looking around, each slam of wind against the windows making your head snap. British weather never helped you, always raining instead of the pure white you hoped to see when you opened the curtains, and always too hot yet too cold, a medium you could never seem to find.

With your heart thumping in your ears, you push yourself up to a stand, hands grasping his desk and accidentally splaying his papers across the floor. Your breath chokes, realising what you had just done, the loud rustle of the fall echoing in your ears as a pit of shame surrounds the current fear—the ball growing larger by the second. Panicked, you support yourself on any item you can, each soft knock of your hands against an object tugging at your heart muscle even more. Eventually you find the bathroom light, grasping at the air until you find the dangling string, and you pull, the blinding spotlights making you wince. The bathroom was slightly clearer, and you quickly closed the door behind you, not bothering to turn the lock in case for some weird reason you had to run out again. You could never trust your brain anyway.

Stepping forward, your hands grasp around the porcelain of the sink, your body shaking as you slump slightly, breathing heavier. It’s so silent, the fan the only sound echoing off of the surrounding tiles—the lack of noise driving you to the brink of despair. The way your hands grabbed the tap was nothing short of brutal, lifting the metal upwards as water gushed out, drowning the contaminating paranoia out of your brain through the little crevices. Your breathing slows a little, but it feels like a weight off your chest from how hard your heart had thumped against your ribcage, and you find your head wanting to tilt back, breathing in the cold air. However, this causes you to make a brutal mistake.

Your eyes open again, the mirror right in front of you. It’s been weeks since you’ve looked directly into one, and you can't help but be stilled into shock from what you see. As expected, your hair is a mess, falling over your shoulders in a way that’s never happened before, always in a tight bun for training. Not to mention, your eyebrows are furrowed together so tightly, instinctively forcing you to relax them, and your lips are cracked all over, chapped and broken. It’s not like you can see all of that, no, only faint blurs of what’s before you, a hovering blend of colours that make up your face, smoothing out into a strange shape—you don't even remember your chin looking like that.

The longer you stare, the more you lose track of yourself, blinking in confusion as you suddenly become aware of all your little nicks of your skin, not by sight but feel. Your hands trace over the bumps on your face, up the side of your cheek and just up to your eye. A fresh burn scar, not the worst definitely— but clearly noticeable. You hadn't known you had been burnt on your face too, perhaps refusing to acknowledge that. Instead, your other hand moves to graze your eyebrow, feeling the hairs out of place, and the rough texture of dry skin.

This isn't you— but it is, and yet it isn't altogether.

You know it’s you because when you widen your eyes you can faintly see the whites of your eyes become more visible. You know it’s you because when you lick your lips you feel the stab of the cracks, see the paled colour in the mirror. Likewise, you know it’s you because you feel connected to it yet so far away at the same time.

“Why’re you up?”

You don't hear his gruff voice behind you, even as his unmasked face approaches in the mirror behind your own. He’s tired, that’s obvious by his voice but no matter how hard you squinted you could barely make out a feature of his. His eyes roam over your form in confusion, wondering what had caused you to be up at this time, and he reaches around you to finally close the tap. It was quiet in the flat, and he’s sure he would’ve woken if there was a storm or any other loud noise. Besides, he doubts you’d brave the darkness without seeking him out if the nightmare was that bad.

He follows where your eyes are stuck on, the mirror and the scars that now litter your face. He knew that feeling, the detachment that came with a new scar, especially on something you see so often. After all, he wore a mask for a reason, to hide identity from others, and from himself. For him, it was less to do with the gruesome shapes of the marks, more struggling to place himself with that. He didn't feel as if he was that face, even if he remembers where everything came from like the back of his hand. Sometimes, he still remembers when his face was smoother, rounder, and his eyes were a little wider.

Your hands have a death grip on that porcelain, and he can tell now that you’re experiencing that similar emptiness he feels too. Gently, he places his large hand over your eyes, the warmth seeping your skin as his voice grows a little quieter yet no less thick. “That’s enough. You don't need to suffer any longer like this.” He tugs you away from the sink, gently turning you around to face him instead, calloused fingertips scratching your eyelids as he lowers his hand. “Look at me.” You do, seeing nothing but a blur of blonde on his head, a fuzz of his carved jaw and crooked nose. He holds your hand, fingers rubbing little circles into your palm. “Who is it?”

“I.. It’s you.” He nods at you, rolls up his sleeve, and brings it up to your line of vision, marks littering the skin in angry reds and pale pinks. “Who is it?”

“T-those marks—”

“Who is it?” He insists and you comply quickly.

“You..”

Gently he pulls up his shirt, even in the fuzziness you can make out the shape of the scarred tissue, spanning across the side of his waist. “Whose is it?”

“Y-yours..” You’re starting to understand now, as your breaths grow slower and your mind begins to focus on deciphering the meaning behind his words. He wants to show you something that reflects onto you yet comforts you because he shares that pain too. He pulls your hand to touch the scarred tissue, letting your fingers dance over the ridges and bumps and the uneasy feeling that comes with it. “I hide behind a mask,” He murmurs, pulling his shirt gently down again as your fingers retract. “Yet I’m still Simon. No matter how hard I try.”

He lets the silence hang in the air, allowing the reassurance behind his words to envelop you. His hands rest on your shoulders now, before slipping behind you into the cabinet above the sink, pulling out the first aid kit and medical plasters. You can see the white in his hands, how he places the soft material into yours. It’s an option, a chance, to hide away the bad and deal with it later. No, it’s not a trick question nor will he judge your answer. You had heard the bandage he had peeled back just to show you the scar tissue. He had said himself about his mask. If you want, he’ll help you cover them up, so you can feel comfortable in yourself again. But the choice is up to you.

You nod quietly, and he takes the plaster, holding your chin with one hand whilst he presses it along the burn scar that reaches up the curve of your cheek. “There, all gone.” It’s nothing, and yet you let out a sigh of relief, to be rid of that finally was a burden off your chest. You can feel his gaze roaming you, or maybe that’s just his hands lingering down your arms, across your sides and patting down your legs. “Did you hurt yourself when you got up?” You shake your head quickly, and he tucks a hand behind your back, leading you out the bathroom before he clicks the light off.

You’re just about to murmur a thanks, or something quiet when sound breaches the air down the entire street. It’s threatening and so damn loud, shaking your brain chemistry back to the bombs you hear on the daily.. It makes your entire body prickle, the shattering sizzle something you only hear in warfare, but to cross over into real life is like a fever dream you never wanted to become true. Your legs scramble on the cold tiles, trying to get out and see what’s happening as quickly as possible. The sound in the air grows heavier as Ghost follows, likely trying to see the commotion too. You’ll need your gear, your boots, and your belt and your helmet and vest and weapons and his too, he’ll need his mask if you’re going to go help.

“Hey-”

You’re still scrambling, unable to make it to the door until a strong arm forces you back against a warm chest. “It’s fireworks. Almost the new year.”You pause, instantly going silent, and he sighs, just giving your hair a small ruffle before he smooths down the mess of it. “You don't even know what day it is—Do you?�� You shake your head again, and he’s half tempted to chuckle at how tired he is and how wild this night is going. He walks you into his room, burying himself under the covers after you tentatively sit on the bed, unsure if he expects you to follow even after the countless times you’ve slept this close before. That is until greedy hands plant on your waist, pulling you down onto the bed as you let out a small gasp. Both arms wrap around your middle, pressing your chest to his as he slowly rubs up and down. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake if you have a nightmare.”

It’s a firm promise that he’ll help you, even as one of his large legs tuck between yours, keeping you impossibly close. Your breathing is still quiet, voice still silent, and he peeks an eye open at you before scanning your struck face up and down. “What’s wrong?” He’s caught a little off guard when you tuck your face into his neck; you’re just pleasantly surprised when no smell of burning copper goes to your brain this time. A sniffle is heard as your arms wrap around him too, and it just feels so, so strange.

For once, you are not grasping at cold fabric, desperately begging for an ounce of soft comfort. No, his neck is bare, and his skin is warm against you, an actual living breathing person existing beside you. It’s not rotting flesh, nor a lifeless form you’ve dreamt about clutching as you cried, mourning a lost teammate.

Still, what baffles you more is that never in your life have you felt him near you, never like this, never so bare like your minds are telepathically linked. Usually it’s his arm around your shoulders, simple yet not too touchy. Or perhaps a soft pat on the shoulder, a guiding palm on the lower back or even you taking advantage of the few times he swaps his balaclava for a surgical mask, opting to ruffle his hair while it’s present.

“Why’re you up Ghost? I wasn't the one who woke you.” . His chest sinks as you continue to sniffle, knowing he can't even be mad at you for seeing past him, and he sighs, the stubble of an unshaved jaw momentarily brushing against your forehead. “The fireworks.. set me off.” You stay quiet, sink into him a little longer as you both lay there, hearts beating against one another. There’s no point lying to you anymore, especially when he sees everything about himself in the way you act. Dealt entirely different hands in life and yet somehow led to the same conclusion, until you were here now, seeking comfort in one another. Slowly, your hand rubs up and down his back, making the stiff flesh slowly release the tension built between each cell. His body straights out a little, a shaky breath exhaling warmth onto the pillows.

“Thanks..love.” He murmurs quietly, and your nose nudges his neck, a silent response to his words in which he assumes is likely a ‘you’re welcome’ . His own nose buries into a few tufts of your hair, inhaling the clean scent of your shampoo. The both of you are here, still alive, still well. There are no explosions outside, no demands being asked of you and certainly no expectations to live up to. And you’d be damned if anyone even tried to ask you for anything right now, knowing well you weren't letting go of him until he did of you— which you both knew would never be anytime soon.

The week’s schedule shifts after that night, the interactions between you seem to have been planned according to a mutual understanding. Now you follow him everywhere, willingly too. Whether it was a grocery run in the early morning, the store was just empty enough to let you walk around with him without bumping into any customers. Or perhaps he’d drag you down to the park, let you sit on the benches and hear the soft sounds of nature. Your eyesight was becoming clearer much to your own relief, and you almost wanted to cry when you could read the time on the clock again. Still, he kept you close, letting you sit on the stool outside the shower or sit on the bed when he changed outfits. He felt comfortable, not entirely because you were still visually impaired but also because you made him feel comfortable, the shared vulnerability easing away at his hard walls. But the lack of sight really did help, and you knew because you felt his cheek brush against your ear when he shifted at movie nights. The way his bare nose would nudge your forehead to keep you awake whilst you indulged in a random crossword was nothing short of comfort either. It was most obvious when the sun began to set though, after he cooked you a hot dinner, and you’re allowed to let sleep come quickly with your head lolled lazily on his shoulder or if you’re extra lucky, even on his legs.

Like a loyal soldier, you followed his orders with glee. Like a good Lieutenant, he looked after you well, making sure that by the end of the night you were tucked safely beneath his blankets and shielded from the horrors of your own mind.

hope u enjoyed :)

#simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost fluff #simon ghost angst #ghost angst #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #call of duty angst #call of duty fanfic #ghost fanfiction

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 1 hour ago

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Crash Into Me

Summary: A snow storm is coming down hard and the reader is attempting to clear the driveway of snow before Dean gets home from a long shift. But one wrong move can change their whole night...

Pairing: Doctor!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,000ish

Warnings: language, head injury/body injuries, mention of car accident

A/N: Fun fact, this story takes place in the same world as one of my previous fics. We'll see if anyone can figure it out 😉

_________

You were panting by the time you’d made your third pass down the driveway with the shovel. Shit, you should have gotten the snowblower out. The snow had looked light but it was wet and heavy underneath, too heavy to push effectively. Plus it was coming down hard, the wind whipping more and more. Dean was due home in less than twenty minutes and you needed to clear it out if he wanted a chance of getting his truck in the drive.

Alright, you’d get the thing out of the back and clear off some room before it got too high.

Not two steps towards the garage, you felt your boot slip on some black ice and you stumbled backwards, cold hitting your back the last thing you registered before it all went black.

With a silent groan, you fluttered open your eyes, finding yourself staring up at the roof of Dean’s truck.

“Oh that’s not good,” you muttered, finding one of Dean’s hands touching your hand, his fiery hot in it.

“Y/N? Sweetheart?” You winced as you sat up, finding Dean turned back in the drivers seat, watching you carefully. “Take it easy. You have a concussion. You were out about sixty seconds from what I could tell.”

“What joy,” you grumbled, holding a hand to the back of your head and hissing. He squeezed your other hand, your gaze locking onto his. “S’just a bump-”

“I was just pulling up the road when I saw you go down and you were lights out. We’re going to the hospital.” You opened your mouth to argue but he growled. “Do you remember that massive car accident you were in eight years ago? How your doctor, me, told you to take any head injuries seriously? Hm?”

“Fine, we’ll go,” you sighed.

“That’s my stubborn girl,” he said, letting go of your hand when you hit an icy patch on the road. “We’ll need to take it slow. Let me know if-”

“Yes, Dr. Winchester,” you said dramatically, feeling an ache in your side you hadn’t before from the adrenaline coursing through you. It was quiet in the truck as Dean drove back to work. The roads were a mess and it was coming down even harder. You weren’t exactly expecting to get out of there quickly but you knew you’d have to wait for a break in the weather before Dean would be able to get back on the road again.

“There we go,” said Dean as he barely drove into the employee parking garage, your eyes darting out the window to see a pair of nurses and a doctor with a stretcher waiting by the elevator. Again, you wanted to argue you were fine to walk but your side was really starting to hurt and you had a feeling you’d bruised the ribs you broke in your accident years ago.

“Well if it ain’t my favorite Winchester,” said Benny, opening the back door for you.

“Hey, Ben,” you said, slipping out of the car before anyone could stop you. You sat down on the stretcher, Benny nodding to the nurses.

“I’ll be down in the ER in two minutes, sweetheart,” said Dean as you waved him off.

“I got her, worry wart,” said Benny, shutting the door for you, wrapping his white coat around himself as he trailed after you on the stretcher. It was much warmer in the elevator, Benny shaking the cold off and cocking his head at you suspiciously. “So. How bad does it hurt?”

“My head,” you said quietly. You pointed to your ribs and right hip. “This whole side aches. It feels like when I broke my ribs.”

“Alright. We’ll get you taken care of. Hopefully it’s just a bad bruise.” You tried to relax on the way downstairs, Benny getting you in a room off of the ER where the less intense cases were evaluated. After only a slight argument, you convinced him that you could take off your clothes on your own. You weren’t about to let them cut through your brand new winter jacket.

By the time you were down to your bra and underwear, Dean was walking inside, pouting as he noticed the deep bruises on your skin over some of your old scars.

“You are going to go stand in that corner and let me work,” Benny said to him as he and the two nurses gently rolled you to your side to examine your back. “Alright, we’ll take you for x-rays but my gut says bruised ribs is all. Your concussion is more concerning to me considering your previous accident.”

“What does that mean?” you asked, Benny shining a light in your eyes.

“Just means I want to have you observed for a bit. We’ll do a quick MRI but I’m guessing you’re perfectly fine. Just a little concussion,” said Benny as the doors to the room burst open. Your gaze shot over, Benny still checking your jaw as Dean glanced at the nurse in dark blue scrubs by the door.

“Dr. Winchester! ER 3 needs a surgeon and Dr. Zacariah just busted his ankle in the lobby on some melted snow.”

“Go,” you said to Dean his body already moving after her but his gaze on you. “Now, Dean.”

“Benny, you make sure she’s fine!” shouted Dean on his way out, loud footsteps echoing down the hall. Benny smirked when he was gone, feeling the goose egg at the back of your head.

“Little shit forgets I graduated ahead of him in med school,” he chuckled, running a hand over your head when he finished. “Okay. Everything looks minor. We’ll run some tests and get you admitted upstairs. Kline.”

“Yes, doctor?” asked the young nurse that’d been in with you. Benny hummed.

“Put Mrs. Winchester at the front of the line for MRI and x-rays behind non-critical patients. Stay with her for the night. I have a feeling with the weather, Dr. Winchester is going to be working awhile.”

“You should go help, Benny,” you said, nodding towards the door. “It’s icy out and I’m sure you’ll have way worse cases than mine to deal with. Go on.”

“Watch her,” said Benny to Kline as sirens sounded outside again. He took off with the other nurse, leaving you alone with the young man.

“So,” you said, sitting up with a wince. “Let’s get me taken care of so you can get back to helping people.”

“I’m sorry ma'am, but I’m not about to piss off some of the most important doctors in the hospital,” he said. “Let me get you on the schedule so we can get you somewhere quieter.”

Six Hours Later

“Hey, Y/N,” said Garth. You popped your head up from your book in the surgical staff lounge and gave him a smile. “Heard you took a fall. How you feeling?”

“Oh, they discharged me a few hours ago. A few bruised ribs and a minor concussion. I heard there was a huge pile up on the highway so I told them to give my bed to someone who needs it.”

“Which only happened because I offered to watch her outside of a room,” said Jack, who was working on charts at a table nearby. “Sorry for working in here. I know non-surgical staff aren’t allowed.”

“No worries, kiddo,” said Garth, going to the coffee machine and pouring a large cup. “I need to take a lunch. Why don’t you head on back to the ER? I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Thanks,” he said, gathering his tablet and notepad. “I’ll be back in awhile.”

You gave him a wave, Garth taking his seat when he was gone. He stretched in his chair, closing his eyes. “I’m surprised you’re not in surgery.”

“I was the past sixteen hours. Need some food and a few hours of sleep,” he said, glancing up at the clock. “Surprised Dean’s still on his feet. Didn’t he just work a double?”

“Triple,” you sighed, rubbing the back of your head, the swelling gone down thankfully. “He was only meant to do 8 hours and that turned into 24 when Dr. Alastair got sick so Dean covered his shift and then there was an accident. He never even made it into the house.”

“Good news is I’m pretty sure his surgery is wrapping up. Bad news is with the storm not everyone can make it in for their shifts.”

“Anything I can do to help?” you asked. Garth raised an eyebrow. “Come on. We both know I don’t need a babysitter or Benny wouldn’t have discharged me. I’m a little tired and have a headache and can’t lift anything but I can do something I’m sure. I mean I’m stuck here until this storm is over too. I know how much it sucks to be stuck in the hospital.”

“Let me talk to the floor nurse, see if we can find something.”

Two Hours Later

You grinned when Dean wandered into the ICU in a pair of clean scrubs. His green eyes were barely open but he was smiling when he found you coloring with a young girl who’d been in an accident with her mom.

“Dr. Winchester,” said the woman in bed quietly, Dean giving her hand a squeeze.

“I’m surprised you remember me from the ER,” he said, eyes settling on the young girl. “You taking care of your mom for me?”

She hummed, going back to her coloring as you stood slowly. “I told Darcy about how good a doctor you are from my own personal experience.”

“Ah, well, you weren’t in quite as bad of shape,” said Dean, glancing at the monitors for a moment. “Dr. Mills told me your surgery went well. Hopefully we can get you moved out of ICU in a few hours and home in a few days. Mind if I borrow, Y/N?”

“Take her. And thank you again for keeping an eye on my daughter,” she said.

“Anytime,” you said, Dean tucking you under his shoulders before escorting you out. He hummed, gently tapping the side of your head when you reached the elevators. “Listen. I know you wanted me to stay here and coloring isn’t that strenuous, I promise.”

“Ribs. Concussion. Hip-”

“Dean, I’m fine-”

“Thigh. Ass,” he smirked, gently rubbing your side. “That was a hard fucking fall and you need to rest.”

“I did! I promise,” you said, Dean chuckling.

“Always were a stubborn patient,” he said, the doors nearly closing when you spotted Gabe sneak inside. He gave you two a look, pretending to gag. “This is why you’re single.”

“By choice,” he said, holding up a finger. “And I’m getting the hell out of this building before I get pulled into another disaster. You two want a lift home on account of the head trauma and you looking like death warmed over?”

Dean flipped him off as you pushed his hand down. “Thank you Gabe, we appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

Approximately nine hours after Dean was meant to get home, you and Dean trudged inside the house, leaving the snow in the driveway to be dealt with later. You were hungry and sore and less than a minute inside, you were under the covers in bed, Dean crawling in beside you.

“Wake me up if you feel nauseous or your head hurts more or-” You pressed a finger to his lips, shushing him into closing his eyes. “Bossy.”

“Sleep-deprived,” you said, pecking a kiss on his lips that he was too exhausted to return. “I promise you can dote on me when we wake up as much as you want. I won’t even complain that much.”

“You better not,” he mumbled. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Dean.”

_____________

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #doctor!dean x reader #doctor!dean winchester x reader

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smilesrobotlover · 1 day ago

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Chapter 3- Sky Islands

First|| <-prev next->

AO3

Summary: it’s been three years since Calamity Ganon attacked Hyrule, and everyone was recovering well from it. Until the strange substance gloom appeared, making people sick when they touched it. Wanting to find answers, Zelda and the champions went beneath the castle against her father’s wishes to try to solve the problem. Meanwhile, the King of Hyrule is desperately trying to figure out more about the gloom, though no one knows the true danger lurking beneath Hyrule…

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

The first thing Link felt was the cold.

The damp, cool air caused him to shiver as consciousness slowly began to return to him. He curled and uncurled his fingers and toes, them feeling like ice as they touched warmer parts of his body. The cold traveled up his arms, making him shudder, and he finally opened his eyes. It took a moment for him to comprehend where he was as he laid there, trying to find the strength to not fall back asleep, but the unfamiliarity with his surroundings stopped him from finding more peaceful rest. He was clearly in a cave of sorts, with roots and vines dangling from the gray rocks and poking out of the ground, and he looked to be under a tree that rested protectively above him. Link sat up, curiously observing the mysterious cave he was in, and he rubbed his aching head. How did he get here?

A sudden stab of pain went through his head where his hand was, as if a twig or claw nicked him slightly, and he hissed in pain as he pulled away. He instinctively looked at his hand to see what hurt him, but his stomach sank slightly as he stared at the monstrous arm in front of him. What had nicked his temple were the fingernails, which were sharp and animalistic in nature. They were on a sickly, dark green arm wrapped in golden jewelry that went all the way up to his bicep, and on each finger bore a circular ring. Link stared for a long moment, confusion and panic settling in as he tried to remember what happened and what caused him to suddenly have such a horrifying arm. He glanced at his other arm, but it looked perfectly normal to him, with his simple soft skin and short fingernails that contrasted the rough and decorated alien arm.

“Link, you’re finally awake.”

Link flinched at the sudden deep voice, looking around him in a frenzy to see who was with him, but to his surprise, he was completely alone in the cave.

“Do not be alarmed, I mean you no harm,” the voice continued, though it didn’t ease Link’s unease. “Your wounds were severe, I was afraid that you wouldn’t make it, but I am relieved to see you escape death.”

Escape death… What happened?

“Your arm, however, was beyond saving,” the voice continued. “I had to replace it lest the injury endanger you further.”

Link instinctively looked down at the new arm again, taking in the details. He wondered if it was a prosthetic of some kind, but the way it moved—the way it felt proved otherwise. It was living, with blood flowing through its veins, yet it felt wrong. It wasn’t his, it was… something else. Something alien to him. He rubbed his head again, this time with his left arm, and he tried to remember all that happened. The voice didn’t speak up again, and Link finally stood up, though it was a lot more difficult than he realized. His legs felt weak and numb as they haven’t been used in a while, and his whole body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Link let out a grunt as he stretched his back, feeling slight relief for his tight body, and he finally looked around him, shuffling his feet to get used to them again. The cave was simple, plain and dark, with vines and roots that snaked through the room. But amongst the vines, Link spotted something, and his heart stopped.

The Master Sword.

It was tangled up in vines, but Link could see the decayed and shattered sword as he got closer to it. He stared in shock for a long moment, his breathing shallow as he reached for the hilt, almost hesitant to touch it as if he was unworthy. When he finally grabbed it, he immediately could feel the emptiness inside the sword; the once powerful and divine magic that rested within the Blade of Evil’s Bane was gone, and dread sank within Link’s stomach as he plucked it from the vines. As he observed the decayed blade, the memories from before finally flooded in. They were traveling beneath Hyrule Castle, they found forgotten history, they found gloom getting thicker as they walked, they found a corpse being held up by a green arm, it shot gloom at him, destroying his arm and…

Link glanced down at the new arm. Was it… the same green arm as before? It grabbed him as the corpse shot gloom above them, it grabbed him as he tried to stop Zelda from falling into the abyss with Terrako, it…

Saved him.

It must be the reason why he was here then, and it replaced his destroyed one. He felt slightly better about the new arm, but a new fear settled in.

Where was Zelda? She vanished into a gold light when Link tried to grab her, unless he hallucinated the whole thing due to the pain. Did she… teleport away? He didn’t know she could do that. And the champions… the arm grabbed him and saved him, but did it save the champions? Were they able to get away? Or were they still beneath the castle, fighting for their lives while he was tucked away safely in a cave?

Link huffed, pushing the dread out of his mind to make way determination as he sheathed the broken master sword. Though it wouldn’t do much good for him, it was better than nothing. But he needed to save the champions and Zelda.

He marched towards an opening covered in vines, cutting through them with the broken blade. He was expecting to see more of the same gray rocks from before, but to his surprise, he found himself in a building that had clearly been ruined due to time. It was a large room with stagnant gears to one side and a door straight ahead, and right in front of Link was a strange green circle with a handprint in the middle. He was tempted to leave it be, but curiosity got the best of him, and he walked right up to it. It was clearly a magic circle, with it resting within a statue encircling it. When Link lightly touched it with the right arm, a loud bell rang out, causing him to jump as the gears to the side began moving. The silent air was soon filled with the sounds of machinery as the gears turned, and the door right in front of him opened. Link let out a sigh of relief, grateful he went to the magic circle first, and he took off running, anxious to leave the building and running through the ruins. While running through the hall, small ponds that Link would have to dive into met him, with each dive being higher than the last. On the third dive, he climbed out of the water, laying on the rocky ground with a sigh. He hadn’t been running for a long time, and he was a remarkable swimmer, yet his whole body felt impossibly heavy. Maybe he hadn’t fully recovered from whatever that corpse did to him.

Link rolled over to his side when he felt his stamina go up, and he spotted a little chest glowing amongst the bland vines. Curious, Link scrambled to his feet, opening it with slight excitement. Inside was a tan colored skirt that had wraps underneath. Sandals rested underneath the garments along with a belt and Link frowned. He didn’t recognize this style of clothing. It was clearly old, yet well preserved, and he considered leaving it behind. But the feeling of rocks poking at his feet convinced him otherwise. He wasn’t wearing any clothes, let alone shoes; perhaps it’d be smart to put on something.

After putting on the archaic clothing, he ran to the next opening, feeling excitement as he felt a draft hit his face. Sunlight peered through the mouth of the cave, and Link slowed down when he finally made it out. The fresh air, the warm sun, the sound of trees rustling in the wind felt incredible to Link. It felt like he was inside the dingy cave for weeks, which considering his condition, he probably was. He sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes to see a stone flooring that led to an edge. Stepping out further into the sun, he walked to the edge, spotted a lake beneath him, and without thinking, he jumped.

As Link jumped off the platform, he was finally able to get a good look at the new world he was in. Several islands that floated were all around him, hovering over a giant island that dwarfed the rest. Orange and yellow leaves were floating away from the trees, hinting at the first signs of autumn, and large, strange white building rested on the large island, which stood out from the rest of nature. To top off the view, a white dragon flew through the sky, right above the white building.

As the large island got closer, Link’s heart began to beat harder, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he dove flawlessly into the water. He emerged with a gasp, the cold water shocking him slightly, yet he felt refreshed with his wet hair growing colder in the wind. The refreshed feeling quickly went away though when he felt heavy and weak again, and he swam to the yellow grass, hopping over big lily pads that were in his way. When he was finally out of the water, he shivered slightly and laid in the warm sun, panting for air as he stared at the beautiful blue sky. He laid for a long moment, the warm sun and his exhausted body threatening to force him to sleep, but the sound of flapping wings caused him to scramble to his feet instead, pulling out his master sword.

“You’re almost dead for an entire week and the first thing you do is dive off a cliff?!”

Link turned to the lake to see a familiar blue Rito standing on a log, his wings crossed and his piercing green eyes glaring at him. Though he never got along with him, Link couldn’t help the relieved smile when he saw the Rito champion. Revali was here which meant… the other champions had to be safe as well, right? Link sheathed the master sword and jogged up to him, stopping when Revali backed away.

“Woah, don’t you dare touch me when you’re soaking wet!” He squawked, his wing out to keep Link from getting closer. Link’s relief was replaced with irritation and to his surprise, offense, but he forced another smile, which made Revali’s gaze surprisingly soften.

“Well, I’m glad you’re at least doing alright,” Revali said, his wings crossed once again as he looked away, almost looking angry to express concern to Link. “We—the others have been worried sick about you. We didn’t know where you were or… if you were alive or…”

He trailed off, his eyes landing on the alien arm that replaced Link’s. Link glanced down once again observing the strange thing.

“Goddesses, what happened while you were up there?” Revali asked, mostly in a rhetorical tone. The arm was simply dropped at Link’s side, and he shrugged, not quite understanding what happened either. He could explain the voice that spoke to him and the arm being the same from beneath the castle, but instead he said nothing. Revali waited for Link to speak up, but when he didn’t, he simply turned away, knowing that Link’s voice never came easily.

“How are you feeling right now?” Revali finally asked, concern more apparent on his face.

Goddesses, how was Link feeling? He was confused, worried, relieved, hurt—he felt a lot of things. Link admittedly felt the need for comfort, but he couldn’t let Revali know that. Instead he stood up straight and forced a smile, nodding reassuringly at the Rito. Revali didn’t look too convinced, but he didn’t press any further.

“Ok, the others are doing ok too, if you’re worried about that.”

Link’s smile was more genuine, relieved that he wasn’t the only one saved.

“Except, Zelda is missing, we don’t know where she is,” Revali continued, and the relief quickly disappeared. “We’ve searched all over the island. We knew you were somewhere in the building above us, but we knew nothing about the princess. We still don’t, honestly. But that white building over there,” Revali pointed behind Link, “we hope that she’s in there. Urbosa feels some divine magic inside. Only issue is, we don’t know how to get in, it’s locked.”

Link frowned. It wasn’t ideal, but there was at least hope that Zelda was alright. It seemed he got hurt the worst from the corpse underneath the castle, which he was grateful for. He couldn’t bear for the others to get hurt the same way.

“Well… Um…” Revali stared at Link for a moment before looking around at the trees. “I’m going to go look for others, they’ll be happy to hear that you’re on your feet again. You should stay put while I’m gone. Just stay at this lake, and I’ll be back. You hear? Stay put!”

Link nodded, watching as Revali gave him a threatening look before flapping his wings and taking to the skies with power. The wind blew dust in Link’s eyes and covered his face with his arm, and when the dust settled, Revali was gone. Knowing that the champions were at least safe, he felt slightly better, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Though, he was still worried about the princess, and he wondered if she got hurt the same way he was and was inside the strange white building recovering. Either way, he needed to find her and the rest of the champions, and so he decided not to stay put so he could try to find them. Sitting around in the mysterious woods while waiting for Revali was not something he wanted to do anyways—he would feel much better if he saw the others with his own eyes. Especially Mipha.

Hylia, she must be so worried about him.

He needed to find her, but he wasn’t able to ask Revali about her. The champions had done well at interpreting Link’s silent language, but they couldn’t pick up on everything and Link couldn’t ever find the voice in time. It was frustrating, but it was something he had to deal with.

The woods were quiet as he walked through them, with beautiful sunbeams shining through the colorful leaves, leaving a warm light on the yellow grass. He was amazed that something like this was in the sky of all places, and he wondered how and why nobody knew about it. Were they still near Hyrule? Or were they in an entirely new realm? Link had seen the three dragons of Hyrule disappear in a circle of clouds before, and so he wondered if he was in the same area as them. Link’s eyes landed on the flying white dragon when he thought of that, and he stopped walking, mesmerized by the divine creature.

There had only been three known dragons in Hyrule: Farosh, Dinraal, and Naydra. Each one had their one distinct color that made them stand out amongst the skies and terrain they flew across. But this one was clearly not one of them. He could barely see the details of the white dragon, but a colorful light trailed behind the creature, which didn’t match the clumps of elements that surrounded the normal dragons. Who was this dragon, and why hasn’t he seen it before?

Link’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted with a strange mechanical noise. He spun around and saw a one-eyed robot with green light acting like a skeleton as it held pieces of green machinery together. It held a large wooden stick and started to float straight for Link, the red eye glaring into him. The hero simply stood there as the robot got closer, not knowing if it was dangerous or not, but a quick swipe for Link’s side answered his question, and he dodged out of the way before it was able to land a hit on him.

It didn’t seem difficult to fight; it felt like it was no more difficult than a red bokoblin, but he couldn’t fight it unarmed no matter how easy. Link searched the ground for a weapon, not wanting to risk damaging the master sword further, and he was able to find a tree branch by his feet. Though it took a few hits, the branch miraculously defeated the construct, and the robot exploded into a green light. Link let out a sigh and collected the wooden stick, knowing it would fare better than the master sword and the branch.

Leaving the broken machine behind, Link found himself in a clearing with a green statue in the middle. The same green circle of magic as before was in front of the statue, and Link instinctively reached out to touch it, curious as to what it would do this time. The statue suddenly began moving, green light controlling every loose piece and shaping it until a big, lizard-like robot stood before him. Link pulled out his wooden stick, expecting yet another battle, but it simply tilted its head at Link.

“Link, I have waited for you,” it said in a soft, mechanical voice. Link’s eyes went big and he put his wooden stick away, squinting his eyes at the strange thing. The robot straightened its posture and nodded at him. “Princess Zelda left something for you in my care.”

Link’s breath hitched at the mention of the princess. So she was safe, thank Hylia. Link’s pose relaxed and he let out a long sigh, the stress leaving him. The champions were safe and so was Zelda. That’s all that mattered to him. The robot made a sound, and a drawer opened from its chest. It reached inside to grab something, and out came Zelda’s Sheikah slate, with the robot offering the slate to Link.

“This is the sheikah slate. I am told that it is an invaluable tool and will provide you with directions,” it simply explained, the slate looking small in the robot’s large hands. Link stared at it confused as he picked it up. He was familiar with a sheikah slate; it was a helpful tool when fighting different monsters, and every champion had one thanks to Purah and Robbie. But he wondered why Zelda was giving this to him, and why she wasn’t the one to do it. Zelda wasn’t exactly one to willingly part with the Sheikah slate since it was her main weapon before, but Link glanced at himself and figured that he shouldn’t complain. His own Sheikah slate was probably destroyed in the castle.

“I received it from princess Zelda. I have now passed it onto you,” the robot continued, its hands pulling back once the slate was claimed. “My records indicate that princess Zelda is waiting at the location marked on its map. My message has been delivered.”

Link glanced at the map, seeing a pin at the large structure on the floating island. So Zelda was in that building, just as the champions suspected. What a relief. He attached the sheikah slate to his hip and gave the robot a nod.

“I am a steward construct, if you need any assistance, come to me or the many stewards on the island,” the steward construct explained before turning away from Link. The hero opened his mouth to ask the many questions he had. What is this place? Where am I? What happened? But no sound came out. Even to a robot, Link still couldn’t find his voice. When the construct was far away from him, he pursed his lips and let out a sigh, heading to the direction where Zelda was said to be.

The green magic circles that matched his hand fascinated Link. They always seemed to make something happen just by his touch. Thanks to one of them, he was able to build a bridge and get closer to the white building. He was curious about the power now at his fingertips, and he wondered who it used to belong to. The arm from beneath the castle clearly matched his new one—the same green glowing color, the same golden ornaments, even the beast-like fingers matched. But who did this powerful arm belong to? Link found himself staring at the new hand once again, taking in every detail as there was always something new he didn’t notice before. He was so distracted with his hand that he accidentally ran into another steward construct. The robot turned around and Link jumped back, giving an apologetic bow.

“Hello,” it greeted him, not seeming to care that it was bumped into. “You should be careful walking through these woods. Soldier constructs may be a threat to you.”

Link tilted his head. The robot he fought before, was that a soldier construct? How many different types of constructs were there?

“Soldier constructs protect this land and eliminate trespassers. They may fight you and should be seen as a serious threat,” it explained, and Link nodded. He figured that they were dangerous since the last one he met tried to kill him. He gave the steward construct a grateful bow and continued walking towards the building. The area grew more foggy, so much so that he was barely able to see the aforementioned constructs pacing the area, waiting for something like him to appear. Despite the steward construct’s warning about the soldier constructs, Link charged in, defeating the constructs in minutes. It was hard to see them as a serious threat when they were more harmless than a normal bokoblin.

As Link traveled closer to the white building, he saw yet another steward construct sitting by a fire. It was surprising at how many of those guys were here. It glanced up at him and watched him silently as he got closer, and Link stopped abruptly when he smelled something delicious.

“Are you hungry?” It asked, its mechanical voice the same as the other ones. “It is my duty to make all sorts of meals for those who consume food. I do not, but I do enjoy experimenting with different combinations. I suggest you try one of my meals.”

Link walked over shyly, eyeing a baked apple with his mouth watering. Goddesses, when was the last time he ate?

He picked it up slowly, the steward continuing to stare at him. When it said nothing, he finally allowed himself to bite into it. The sweet and tart taste of an apple met his tongue, but there was a hint of cinnamon that practically kissed his taste buds as he ate the apple. The fruit melted in his mouth and he felt like he was in heaven—though it was a simple apple, it was the best apple he’s ever had.

“I hope it’s to your liking,” the steward construct said, and Link nodded enthusiastically, finishing the first meal he’s had in a week. The construct nodded and gestured to the rest of the food laying there. “You may take as much as you’d like. I do not need it.”

Link gratefully took the food and gave the construct a grateful bow. He stuck another apple in his mouth and continued his trek to the building, feeling slightly more rejuvenated thanks to the food. When he got close to the building, he was met with a broken bridge, but it was no issue for Link as he shoved a baked acorn in his mouth and hopped on the side, climbing it with ease. When he reached the top however, he was met with another soldier construct, this one bearing a shield. He sighed, fiddled with the nut in his mouth and pulled out the wooden stick he got from the soldiers. The construct floated towards him, beginning its attack, but Link dodged with ease, rolling behind it and smacking its back. The construct flinched and was thrown off balance, allowing Link to deliver the final blow, destroying the construct. He adjusted the nut still in his mouth and began to nibble on it, collecting the perfectly good shield. Finally, he made it to the building’s doors, quickly eating the nut so he wouldn’t greet Zelda looking like a slob, and he wiped his hands on his trousers. There was a familiar green magic circle with the hand symbol in the middle, and he touched it, expecting the door to open like before, but to his surprise, a red X appeared on the circle, denying him access. He stepped back slightly, looking up at the large doors in confusion.

“That door will only open to those with sufficient power.”

Link jumped and spun around, his weapon drawn and shield up, but his defensive pose dropped slightly as he stared at the person in front of him. He was obviously a ghost, but he was a ghost of a tall creature with large ears on each side of his head, with a short snout and horns on the top of his head. His turquoise eyes watched Link, framed by long, white lashes. Decorated on his body was jewelry and a shawl that covered his upper body, with a tunic that draped over his short legs—it was certainly a style Link had never seen before. The ghost simply smiled and raised a hand defensively.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to startle you,” he said, and Link noticed the uncanny similarity between this ghost’s arm and his new one. “You may have this figured out, but it was I who spoke to you earlier.”

Link frowned, remembering the strange voice he heard when he first woke up. He stood up fully, putting his wooden stick away while staring at the ghost intently. The ghost lifted his arm, as if proving Link right that their arms were the same.

“That arm belonged to me. Seeing how I no longer have a physical form, I didn’t need it anymore. Not as much as you did at least.” The ghost’s arm rested at his sides again and he stared directly into Link’s eyes. “I am Rauru. I see you’re doing well despite nearly losing your life earlier, that is good news.”

Link looked down, instinctively looking at his new arm and not feeling satisfied with an answer to his previous question on whom the arm belonged to. Rauru floated closer to him, staring at the large, white doors.

“That arm should allow you to open this door, but it seems it has lost the power to do so,” he muttered solemnly. He glanced down at Link and rested his hand on his chin. “You should be able to restore it, fortunately. You’ll just need to enter a place filled with sacred light.”

Link frowned, not knowing where such a place could be, but Rauru chuckled.

“Do not worry, from what I can see, the many shrines on this island seem to still be standing.” Rauru turned and gestured to buildings that had a glowing green spiral coming out of the tips. Link stared and spotted more of them scattered on different corners of the island, and he nodded. Rauru nodded back. “Yes, the shrines are the key, I’m sure of it.”

Link stared at him as his expression grew melancholic, and suddenly, Rauru disappeared, leaving Link alone. He sighed, soaking in the information he got from the ghost. The only way to get to Zelda was through that door, and to do that he had to go to shrines scattered across the island. He wondered why she was locked in there, and if the champions even knew that’s where she was. It was all too strange to him—an unfamiliar world, an unfamiliar enemy, an unfamiliar creature guiding it, an unfamiliar arm—he was almost wishing that things could go back to normal. But he was here now, with a new danger threatening his home and friends, so he had to suck it up and fight back, just like he’s done before.

Link looked over to the closest shrine and began his journey to it, hoping to get this done as soon as possible. He wasn’t the biggest fan of taking time on tasks, let alone tripping over nature to get to his destination. It was a huge pain, but at least he’d be able to get to Zelda with the champions, wherever they were.

He just hoped they were safe.

When Link got closer to the shrine, he heard the sounds of fighting, and he quickly spotted the Gerudo champion fighting the soldier constructs. Even though Revali showed Link that the champions were safe, he was still relieved to see Urbosa fighting with ease. She took down the constructs as if they were annoying pests, shocking them with her lightning and taking them down with her scimitar. Link figured he could sit back and wait for her to finish before reuniting with her, but as he watched, he noticed a straggling construct at a higher elevation, a bow in its hands. Urbosa was too distracted with the other constructs, and when the construct drew an arrow, Link knew he couldn’t sit back anymore. He ran to the sniper, trying to stay out of sight as it aimed for the Gerudo champion, and he swung his wooden stick at the construct, killing it instantly. He picked up the discarded arrows and bows, grateful to get more weapons, and he looked up to check on Urbosa. All the constructs were dead, and the chief was smiling at him.

“Link! Get down here!” She commanded, sheathing her scimitar and shield and walking towards him. Link smiled and jumped down to greet her. The Gerudo chief pulled him into a tight hug when they met, and Link hesitantly reciprocated.

“We were so worried about you,” she said, rubbing his back gently as she swayed back and forth. She finally pulled away and held him at arm level. “You were put in this strange building and we’ve been trying to keep these constructs away from you.” Urbosa smiled gently and cupped his cheek. “I see you’ve recovered though. I’m so glad.”

Link smiled and nodded while Urbosa glanced at his arm.

“That arm… Goddesses that felt like eons ago,” she murmured, staring at the strange appendage. “It took us away when the castle fell and put you in that building. We heard a voice telling us that you would be healed, but then we were locked out, unable to see you as it happened.”

Link frowned. He had no idea that they weren’t by his side as he healed. They weren’t there when he woke up, but he chalked it up to bad timing. They must’ve been worried sick about him, not being able to see him. Mipha would have normally been worried if she could be by his side, but if she couldn’t…

“Mipha?” Link suddenly blurted out, his voice sounding raspy and clearly unused, and Urbosa gave him a teasing smile.

“She’s fine. That poor girl, she never left the island you were left on.”

Link looked down, longing to see her again. He could really use her support with everything going on.

“I’m not sure if you know this, but from what I’ve seen, Zelda isn’t here,” Urbosa said solemnly. “I don’t know where she is, but I pray she was taken somewhere safe as well.”

Link lifted his head and glanced over at the white building. Urbosa glanced over as well and took a few steps towards it.

“We’ve had our theories, but is she in there?” She asked, hope apparent in her voice.

Link nodded and opened his mouth to explain the situation, “I need to go to the shrine to open the door,” was all he could say. Urbosa gave him a knowing nod and grabbed his arm, escorting him to the shrine.

“Daruk has tried to break through that door,” she started to explain, “no matter what, we couldn’t get inside. If I had known she was in there, I would’ve tried harder.”

Link gave her a sympathetic look.

“Unfortunately, we couldn’t get into the shrines either,” she continued, stopping when they reached the shrine’s entrance which was blocked off by a green magic circle, “so I’m not sure how you’ll be able to get inside. But we’ll figure something out.”

Link nodded, walking up to the circle and touching it. The light dispersed and an entryway appeared, a green light beckoning him further.

“Wow, you figured that out fast!” Urbosa exclaimed, walking closer to the shrine. “I suppose that arm has many uses.”

Link took a step forward and stopped in front of the entryway. He turned to look at Urbosa, waiting for her to join him, but she shook her head.

“Sorry Link, I have a feeling I’ll be a burden to you. I’ll be waiting for you out here.”

Link nodded and stepped inside the shrine, leaving Urbosa behind. As soon as he left the islands and entered the large room of the shrine, vertigo and nausea assaulted him all at once. He gasped in pain as it felt like his insides were on fire, and he fell to his knees, his left hand grasping his chest and his breathing heavy as the pain moved through his body.

“Link.”

Link looked up to see Rauru watching him, a worried look on his face. The ghost floated over to him, studying him as he sat there shaking.

“The gloom that still remains in your body is reacting to the light in the shrine. It wants you to leave, to shelter yourself from the light. But I’m afraid you must not listen to it.”

Link let out a whimper, sitting up straight and taking in deep breaths.

“Do not worry, Link. The light will not only strengthen my arm, but it will remove some of the gloom still stuck to you. You just need to endure.”

Link took in a deep breath through his nose, and he nodded, standing up shakily to face the ghost. He needed to continue onward, for Zelda.

“Give me your hand,” Rauru commanded, and Link offered him his right hand, forgetting that it technically wasn’t his. Rauru extended his own, and a green light appeared above Link’s shaking palm. His right arm began to glow with the light, and Link felt something settle inside his palm.

“That is the ultrahand ability,” Rauru explained. “With it, you can build anything, anything you can imagine. Come, let me help you learn how to use it.”

Link took a deep breath and stepped forward despite everything within him screaming at him not to. Rauru guided him to a wooden plank laying on the ground and gestured to it with his hand.

“I want you to pick up this plank with ultrahand. Extend your hand towards it and imagine yourself grabbing it.”

Link frowned and extended his hand, continuing to shake terribly. Though he imagined himself grabbing the plank, nothing happened. He let out an exhausted huff as his hand dropped, and he leaned on his knees.

“I’m terribly sorry Link, I know these aren’t the best learning circumstances. But I’m afraid all I can do is teach.”

Link gave him a look and rubbed his aching head, standing up straight to try again. He needed to push through, he needed the power and he needed the gloom gone. Letting out a breath he tried again, almost feeling his right arm tingle slightly as he tried to pick up the plank, but once again, nothing happened. Rauru hummed and walked over to him.

“Whenever I used this ability, it always felt like my arm was extending towards the object. Perhaps if you… extend your arm, it’ll work.”

Link gave him another look. He was already extending his arm, yet nothing happened. Was Rauru saying for him to stretch it out? Or for him just hold it up like he’s been doing? Or to simply imagine it extending? Link let out a frustrated huff and held his arm up again. He shouldn’t get mad at Rauru; he was trying to help him out, and Link was grateful that he didn’t have to try to figure this out on his own with the way he was feeling. But he was really hoping to figure it out soon.

“Try to extend your arm,” Rauru muttered, looking away when Link shot him a glare. Link decided to listen however, and stretched his arm out. He expected nothing to happen again, but to his surprise, he felt the arm extend and move towards the wooden plank. A green light came from his arm as it encircled the plank, and Link felt to grab it. To his relief (and surprise), the magic grabbed the plank and lifted it off the ground. So he literally had to extend it for it to work.

“Nice work!” Rauru cheered. “I knew you could do it. I apologize if my advice isn’t helpful—I grew up with these abilities, so it’s hard to explain them to someone who hasn’t used them before.” Rauru smiled at him. “But you picked it up quickly.”

Link smiled and set the plank down, still feeling weak and shaky, but feeling more confident in himself.

“Now it’s time for you to stick things together!”

Link’s smile dropped. There was more he had to figure out? He wiped his forehead and glared at the plank.

“I did say you could build things! You can’t do that without sticking things together, can you?” Rauru floated over to another plank and pointed at it. “If you can pick things up, you can stick them together. It’s the same idea. Extend your arm, and use the magic that comes out of your hand to stick them together.”

Link sighed and raised his hand again, lifting up the plank with much ease the second time around. He moved the plank to the one by Rauru, touching the two ends together. He didn’t know how to stick them together, but he focused his energy on where the two planks touched. To his surprise, the magic brightened in that spot, and a strange green substance appeared, sticking the two planks together. He gasped and accidentally dropped the two stuck planks as Rauru cheered.

“Good work! You got past the hard part!”

Link walked over and stared at the green substance. Rauru gave him a knowing look and poked at it with his ghostly fingers.

“This is Zonai magic that’s been condensed into physical form. Far more durable than anything else in all of Hyrule.”

Link looked over at Rauru in shock. Zonai? Weren’t those the ancient people that Zelda rambled about? Looking at Rauru now, he did look like the statues that were beneath Hyrule castle. So Rauru was a… Zonai?

“Unfortunately, it can’t be produced in mass, so it’s used sparingly. Like to stick two objects together,” Rauru continued, not picking up on Link’s revelation. “Now, I bet you’re wondering, ‘how am I going to unstick them’? Well, this is the easiest thing to figure out! Just pick them up and shake them!”

Link snapped out of his stupor and went to unstick the planks. Just as Rauru said, it was a very simple thing to do. Link picked it up and shook it around, causing the Zonai magic to dissolve and dropping the plank he didn’t grab. Rauru smiled at him and nodded, and the two continued further into the shrine.

The shrine on the outside was relatively small, around the same size as a normal shed. For a shrine, it was quite pathetic, but on the inside the shrine had vast rooms that were incomprehensible to Link. How were these rooms able to fit inside such a tiny shrine? The Sheikah shrines at least went deep underground, which explained why they were so big. But the Zonai shrines? It was too much for Link’s tired mind. Zonai magic was strange.

Truly magic in general was strange to him. He couldn’t comprehend thinking of something and having it happen, similar to how Mipha could heal. He was always a more physical fighter, using weapons to directly slay monsters. Using magic for the first time was odd to say the least.

It didn’t take long for Link to make it to the end thankfully. He had to make an object to zipline to the end, and fortunately the more he used ultrahand, the easier it became for him. When he landed on the other side, he walked up to a small structure that had a window, revealing two white statues. In the front, there was yet another green circle. Link figured he should get used to seeing those since they seemed to appear everywhere now.

“Good work Link, now get a light blessing. It will help with the gloom,” Rauru said, before disappearing again. Link touched the green circle in front of the structure, causing it to rise and show the two statues in full. The one on the right was obviously Rauru, but a smaller, more Hylian looking statue to the left made Link puzzled. There was a lot more to Rauru that he didn’t know.

“Visitor to this Shrine of Light….” a voice suddenly spoke up, breaking Link from his thoughts. The voice was a deep, soothing feminine voice, one Link had never heard before. “That which imprisons and purifies the ancient evil… You have done well to reach this place…”

Link stared at the statues, specifically the woman to the left. Was she the one speaking to him? Were these statues similar to the goddess statues all over Hyrule?

“We offer this light that will cleanse you of evil.”

A golden orb appeared, resting in front of Link. Though the pain had dulled, it began to flare up again as Link reached to grab it. He gasped as he felt a sharp pain go through him, but it was gone as soon as he touched the orb. Link felt movement within him, and he watched as misty gloom began to leave his body. Though the dull pain wasn’t fully gone, Link suddenly felt lighter, more energized.

“May the Light of Blessing grant you the strength you seek.”

The structure fell, blocking off the statues again, and Link felt himself move out of the Shrine of Light. When he stepped back outside, he felt the pain subside, yet it lingered slightly. Urbosa was at his side as soon as he came out, looking at him with a worried look on her face.

“Are you alright?” She asked, her hand resting on his shoulder. Link swallowed and nodded, trying to give her a pleasant expression, but she didn’t seem convinced. “You look pale,” she stated.

Link let out a sigh. Though the shrine was painful to get through, he really was feeling better, but he supposed he couldn’t escape Urbosa’s concern. He gave a thumbs up and had a more genuine expression on his face, and Urbosa’s worry fell slightly.

“Alright. So what happened? Are you able to open the door now?”

Link pursed his lips and looked down. There were more shrines from what he’s seen on this island, and he had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to open the door until he visited all of them. He wondered if there were more abilities to learn too.

“I’ll take that as a no then,” Urbosa said, studying his face. “Daruk is somewhere on this island, maybe you can try to find him so we can work together in getting this door down?”

Link knew that he would be able to open the doors himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to correct her, and he nodded.

“I’ll go ahead and see what I can do to the door, I trust you’ll be fine on your own?”

Link gave her a reassuring nod and watched as she walked away, staring for a moment as his strength began to return to him. He turned around to observe the area, not knowing where he was going to head next, but knowing his goal to reunite the champions and princess together. They just needed to wait a little longer until he got strong enough.

#yayyyy update!!!#after so many month lol #I had fun playing with the magic #king of the Gerudo #tears of the kingdom #age of calamity #totk spoilers #smiles writes #a little clunky but I’m tired of working on this #we postin it #tears of the kingdom spoilers

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laswells-ashtray · 20 hours ago

Note

I have returned from the depths of the void that's called depression! :D

Anyways, hello again. Ever since I've been reading your posts of different rambles and all that about different cod characters Mac has somehow wormed his way into my heart. (Curse the Scottish characters somehow always worming their way into my heart)

Something that I thought of while trying to catch myself up on some things I've missed was what if Mac was the one who got hurt on a mission instead of Price? Either by the usual occurrences or even trying to protect Price on a mission. Or even possibly being left behind on purpose by another captain that was willing to do anything necessary to get John on his team, even if it meant leaving a fellow captain behind on a mission to the enemies.

(Also I'm slowly starting to try and get over my fear of asking not anonymously, which I think is a good thing for me. Makes me happy about it. :D)

Always try to keep your depression with a sword and eat some yoghurt. It's the only way. Anyway, hello anon. I am proud of the people telling me that I've made them a MacMillan fan because I know fuck all about that man and I just write him based on the people around me and their Scottish-isms.

John wants to scream. He wants to scream and break everything in sight, storming through the lifeless halls like a twister. His fury sporadic and terminal.

He doesn't, he sucks in a breath through gritted teeth and holds it until he hears another beep, breathing out.

Captain MacMillan is a highly sought-after man, proficient and minacious. He's virtue. Righteousness in the shape of man. A blinding beacon of integrity, the type of good that stings to lock gazes with because it isn't achievable in any other form.

Now, he looks half-dead and human. Painfully human. The dread drapes itself over John's shoulders like a weighted blanket. The room feels glacial, goosebumps racing up John's arms as his eyes linger on the blanched face of his captain.

The room is dizzying with timelessness and eternity. It feels ungodly. Like those interminable moments in a confessional as you await the man who cradles your absolution. There is no salvation here, only silence and wasted breath.

Every part of him aches, the lingering prickling sensation under his skin is torturous. He has no injuries, only reluctant hope to get him by.

Mac doesn't fit on the bed, his shoulders are too broad as is his waist, and his legs are too long. The bed is fit for John, the man who belongs in it. It was his originally but he'd never known a Scot who wouldn't dive in front of a bullet like the scar would be a badge of honour.

The bullet should've pierced his flesh, blood should've wept from his wound and he should be the one with a machine monitoring his heart rate. Not Mac, never Mac.

He should've been pacing around John's hospital room, a string of thinly veiled Scottish threats as he glowered at John's unconscious figure. The sergeant should've woken up to his captain ranting and raving at him, skelping his lug before pulling him into a bear hug and letting John slump against him as he radiated heat and comfort.

Instead, he stares at the body of one Captain MacMillan and no one stares back. No dark blue eyes, like glaciers crashing down into the ferocious, thrashing waves below to offer him consolation in such a dull, pallid room.

Truly, he's alone. The entire building reeks of chemicals, antiseptic doused over every molecule in the foundations. It's sterile. There's no scent of Mac's Vaseline men's deodorant that smells as ridiculously cheap as it looks. He's never smelt a deodorant that dries out your lungs quite as effectively as that one, he longs for that smell so much that it throbs in his chest. There's no faint smell of cigarettes because Mac had decided his life's mission was a lung cancer diagnosis, John can't remember the last time he smoked. He'd had to leave the room to do so.

He wants the other man to wake up, wants to scream himself hoarse and shake him until he gets the message. His life is not with more than John's.

He sighs, uncrossing his legs and lifting his elbows from the arms of the chair to cross them over his chest as he slumps back in the unbelievably firm, craped seat by MacMillan's bedside. He tries to blink away the stinging in his eyes as they watch the rising and falling of the Scotsman's chest.

If he tries to listen past the beeping, he can almost hear it.

"Am awright, son."

#captain john price #john price #captain price #cod macmillan #i hope this is up to your standard #im kinda proud of it idk

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palephilosopherstranger · 2 days ago

Text

Doctor Midoriya

CW: mentions of blood & injury, angst

Pain.

That was the last thing Katsuki remembered. The feeling of his insides being ripped apart, the metallic taste in his mouth, and darkness. It was possible that the adrenaline dulled the pain a little at first, but eventually it hit like a freight train. It was an odd feeling all together, being on death’s front door. He had done his own research into near death experiences, not that he ever planned on dying in the line of duty, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared.

A battle waged within him. Fighting for control; for hostile takeover. There was no blinding light, no silver lining. He was definitely not numb, there was no euphoric, overwhelming sense of calm. Just pain.

Agony.

Darkness.

The blinding light came when he finally woke in his hospital bed, and needless to say, he was a bit disoriented. The sterile smell of antiseptic stung his nose while the chill in the air covered his body in gooseflesh. His throat was sore, severely dry, and the still present taste of iron wasn’t helping either. Worst of all, his whole body was still in a continuous state of agony.

He wiggled his toes, finding he still had both his legs. That’s good. He tried to sit up, and a bolt of pain shot through his midsection and ricocheted off his left shoulder. Katsuki gritted his teeth, and tried to pull his arm toward his abdomen on reflex, but that just hurt more. What the fuck happened?

“Oh, good! You’re finally awake,” said a voice at his side. He hadn’t even noticed anyone standing there, his surroundings coming second place to checking his body, and the sudden voice made him flinch away. Katsuki groaned from the sudden movement, more electricity shooting out from his abdomen.

The voice apologized. They sounded sincere. There was an odd, sultry familiarity to that voice. It struck him deep; knocking at the door to his memories.

Katsuki tried to look over and up at the person standing next to his bed, eyes still swimming and struggling to focus. "Water," Katsuki asked, his voice scratchy and harsh.

As if his return to consciousness had been predicted, a plastic cup with a bendy straw was already sitting there waiting for him. They placed the cup in front of Katsuki, and maneuvered the straw to his lips.

He had been parched alright; The water in itself seemed to bring new life to him, soothing his achy soul like balm.

“Where am I?” Katsuki asked.

“You’re at the Musutafu General Hospital,” the man responded, and took the cup back. “You got here just in time, I might add.” He turned to pick up his clipboard, then sat down on a stool.

Now that the man was closer to him, or at least more in his line of sight, Katsuki could see that this man was definitely a doctor. As if the white coat and the stethoscope around his neck wasn’t telling enough. And he was handsome—strong jawline and a friendly face. Surely, the kind of face anyone would want to wake up to. Though his lighthearted smile didn't seem to match the way his emerald eyes observed the blonde with a certain absence of emotion.

The first sight of green curls caused Katsuki’s anxiety to spike. Although they were combed back and styled in a professional manner, Katsuki could still make out the wavy locks under whatever product he was using. Katsuki's heart skipped a beat upon seeing the freckles that lightly speckled his soft features. His eyes bounced from one to the other as if he were studying to make sure each freckle was in its proper place. They were all there all right … Those freckles … ?! Katsuki immediately tried to sit up again, out of shock, at the sight of the childhood friend he hadn’t seen since middle school.

Katsuki hissed in pain, the other put a hand out to stop him. "Please, don't pop your stitches. They took me forever."

Oh gods, his voice too.

His voice.

What the fuck?

For someone with such a beautiful face, his voice was like an intoxicating poison, made for a slow death. Was he hallucinating? There's no way this is happening right now. Katsuki couldn't come up with a reasonable enough response, still gawking at the sight of him. There was only one word his mind could conjure.

"D-Deku?"

Their eyes met, and they held each other's gaze. The stare brimmed with too much potential meaning to begin to interpret. After a brief pause, his expression hardened. "Don't call me that." Izuku was the first to look away, bringing his attention back to his clipboard. "How are your pain levels?"

"Wha-?"

"Pain levels. On a scale from one to ten, what level is your pain?"

Katsuki typically had a high pain tolerance, but this was excruciating. Every movement felt like he was being stabbed, but there was no way he was going to let the nerd know that. "Four," he replied, simply.

Izuku looked up at him again. Then after a moment, he nodded and scribbled something down. "Just as stubborn as ever, aren't you? You know you really shouldn't lie when it's your health in question." Izuku stood up from his stool, and removed his stethoscope from around his neck. "May I?"

Since when did the nerd get so fucking hot?

Now that Katsuki could see him better, he looked … bigger— broader. Perhaps even a little taller too. It was hard to tell since Katsuki had to look up at him from his hospital bed. His boyish, chubby cheeks had filled out and his eyes seemed to harden with maturity. Obviously, Izuku wouldn't look the same as he did in middle school, but he didn't expect Izuku to age in such a way.

Not that he thought he'd ever see Izuku again. But still, he almost expected scrawny, clumsy Deku. With his bright, curious, trusting eyes … always chasing after him. Always right behind him.

Katsuki almost didn't hear Izuku's question, finding himself too baffled and transfixed by his old friend.

" Fuck —yeah, whatever."

Izuku's hand slipped through the small v-neck opening of the hospital gown, placing the cold diaphragm to Katsuki's exposed chest. A shaky breath escaped his parted lips as he did so, and Izuku gently placed his other hand on Katsuki's back to support him. Katsuki took notice of how cautious he was; taking care not to actually touch Katsuki's bare skin as he checked his vitals. Izuku checked Katsuki's heart, and instructed him to take deep breaths to hear his breathing.

Katsuki hadn't realized how hard it was to breathe in his condition, like there was fire in his chest. According to Izuku, everything sounded fine, but he sure as hell didn't feel fine.

"What the fuck happened to me, Deku?"

Izuku rolled his eyes, then placed his stethoscope back around his neck. "I don't know exactly what happened. Long story short, you were injured while fighting off a villain. You have three fractured ribs, and you hit your head as you fell. You were impaled three times."—Izuku pointed with two fingers as he spoke—"Once in the shoulder, again in the abdomen, and also in your upper thigh." Izuku paced slowly, and stopped at the foot of the bed.

"Clearly, the villain was trying to hit the most viable places. The barbs you were impaled with contained a toxin, which ultimately immobilized you. You lost a lot of blood. Luckily we had O negative available, and we were able to quickly perform a blood transfusion. And since the villain was caught, we had quick access to the toxin so an antidote could be made for you. You've been out cold for two days while your body extruded the rest of the toxin."

Katsuki couldn't help his look of shock. "Two days?!" Izuku nodded. "Fuckin' christ, are there no healers here at this shitty hospital, Deku?"

Izuku ignored Katsuki's sly remark about his hospital being shitty, and cut directly to the source of his irritation. "Listen, let's stick to the formalities, all right," Izuku demanded, crossing his arms across his chest. The sleeves of his coat strained against his biceps, accentuating just how broad he was now. "The staff here are under the impression that we don't know each other. So, no 'Deku' , no 'Kacchan' . That ship sailed a long time ago." Izuku paused, letting his words marinate. "So, you can call me Doctor Midoriya."

Katsuki was still stunned. Fuckin' what?! "Doc—?"

"Now, would you prefer Bakugou, or Dynamight?"

The blonde grimaced, and groaned with disgust. Neither his name, nor his hero name, seemed to sound quite right coming from him. Something akin to nails on a chalkboard. "Ugh—don't call me that!"

Izuku shrugged, and said: "Right! So, Bakugou it is, then." Katsuki felt his left eye twitch. "And to answer your question, there are healers here, but with your injuries, low stamina, and severe blood loss, any healing quirk would have killed you."

At that moment, Katsuki couldn't find it in himself to care. Too distracted by the way the fluorescents sharpened Izuku's features, and gave his emerald curls a certain glow.

There’s no way this was happening. Was he hallucinating? Fuck, he could actually be dead right now, unable to really tell based on the angel that was standing at the foot of his bed, or maybe it was the mind fog clouding his judgement.

"What the fuck, why—why wouldn’t they know about us?"

The words were out before Katsuki even realized what he said. The way Izuku's brows furrowed made Katsuki worry that he didn't understand the question, but then he realized, in hindsight, the answer to that question was obvious.

"You want to be associated with me all of a sudden," Izuku asked softly. Disbelief was obvious in his tone. It might have been a little sad too, but surely Katsuki was imagining that as well.

Katsuki stayed quiet, not really knowing how to answer that question.

Us.

It sounds so foreign on his tongue. There hadn’t been an ‘us’ in a long time, especially after how he had left things between them. He knew that. Why would he say that?

Izuku sighed, and stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat. "Doctors aren't supposed to treat friends or family. And for what it's worth, I wanted to oversee your treatment and recovery."

“Fuck—” Katsuki breathed. He seemed to be growing more confused as this went on. Katsuki couldn't decide if he was surprised and delighted, or if it was just karma coming back to bite him in the ass. "It feels like it’s been fucking forever."

Izuku nodded, and sat back down. "It has been. It's been—what? Fourteen? Fifteen years?"

"How old are you," Katsuki asked suddenly. The idea that he'd somehow time-traveled or fell into an alternate dimension seemed about as reasonable as Izuku sitting in front of him right now.

At his odd, random question, Izuku set his clipboard down and leaned in a little closer to him, imploring him with eyes that seemed to know something that he didn't. Katsuki didn't move away this time. "How old are you?"

How old am I? "Twenty-nine."

Another nod. "What month are we in currently?"

Katsuki found he had to really think about it. "September?"

"That's right. So, how old am I?"

Okay, his birthday was in April; Izuku's was in July. "Twenty-nine?"

A small smile perched on Izuku's lips at that. "Twenty-nine," Izuku mimicked, then took a moment to write something else down. Maybe the questions had a purpose.

So, it had been fourteen years. It'd be fifteen years the following April. Fuck, it really had been that long. They were both fifteen the last time they saw each other; right before the start of the school year and his birthday that year. He'd had Izuku in his life for almost exactly half of it, and the other half without him in it.

Katsuki desperately wanted to ask why Izuku was there, despite him saying earlier that he wanted to oversee Katsuki's treatment and recovery. It didn't seem to answer why. But instead, another question came to mind.

"How's auntie?"

Izuku's smile dropped at his question. Katsuki wasn't sure if it was still welcome to refer to Izuku's mother that way anymore. But what surprised him more was Izuku's far off look as he stared in the corner of the room, and his mechanical reply.

"She's fine."

The blonde didn't respond, trying to analyze Izuku's reaction. Izuku’s gaze returned to Katsuki then, giving him another lighthearted grin. "Well, anyway, I guess congratulations are in order!"

"Haah?!"

"Well, despite your current condition, you did it!" Izuku threw both his arms out toward Katsuki, excitedly. "You're a Pro Hero now! I always knew you'd do it!"

The praises made his heart backflip in his chest. He inhaled a shaky breath, unable to form the right words to respond. He’d heard them plenty of times over. But it was Izuku saying it that affected him so much. Izuku was complimenting him now? In his current state? That was fucking bullshit. He was in a hospital bed, barely able to move, vulnerable as fuck, and Izuku was choosing now to be the right time for praise? But Katsuki also wasn't so sure he deserved it either, any of it , for that matter.

Izuku was smiling at him now, even though it didn’t reach his eyes. Katsuki didn't deserve that smile. If this was the real Deku, he was too good for Katsuki. It just didn’t make any sense.

It's like Izuku was being flaunted in front of him, complimenting him, and for what?

To make him realize how much of a piece of shit he was after leaving Izuku the way he did. Which he already knew, there was no need for the universe to remind him.

Quirkless, useless Deku. Why don't you do us all a favor and take a swan dive off the building? Pray you're born with a quirk in your next life, shitty nerd!

Katsuki squeezed his eyes shut at the memory, and he couldn't help the next words out of his mouth. It was easier to push Deku away, and be a mean little shit to him, than to accept his praises. "I don't need your hollow fucking compliments, Deku."

Izuku's smile dropped. "What do you mean?"

"You've always been fuckin’ jealous of me, I know you're only saying these things because you think you can look down on me. Well, you can't!"

Izuku rested his chin in the palm of his hand, observing Katsuki closely. "What have I been jealous about?"

"You know what, shit nerd! I got a quirk, and you didn't. I got into UA, and you couldn't. I'm a fuckin' Pro now, and you never will be. You fuckin’ wish you were in my position!" Katsuki tried to cross his arms, but found he couldn't without gritting his teeth in pain. So he balled the sheets in his fists instead; a motion Izuku noticed.

Izuku’s brows shot up with a kind of disheartened shock. "On the contrary, Bakugou, I don't wish to be in your position."

Katsuki leaned away from him, slightly. Who the fuck is this person? There's no way this is his Deku. "You know what? I don't think I like the idea of you treating me, Doctor Deku !" He hollered.

It was a flat out lie, of course, but Katsuki refused to let Izuku see him this way, not for a second longer! Even though it was evident Izuku had already stitched him up, cared for him, and seen him at his lowest. The words filled him with regret. He wished he pull them back into his stupid, filthy mouth.

Izuku pressed his lips together into a straight line, indents of disappointment clear on his handsome face, as if he wasn't really sure what else he expected. "Well, it's good to hear your injuries haven't affected your memory much."

Izuku paused, seeming to wait and see if Katsuki had anything else to add to his outburst. When he didn't, a pained expression flashed across Izuku's face, then it was quickly masked by something else. Katsuki felt the atmosphere shift.

"At least give me a little credit. I went through medical school, I completed my residency, and I still have the debt to show for it. I deserve to be here, just as much as you deserve to be a Hero.," Izuku raked his fingers through his once perfectly combed hair, and sighed. "But if that's the way you feel, then fine."

He stood up again, and lazily headed for the door. Even though his mouth had already gotten him into enough trouble, Katsuki was trying desperately to find his voice. Just take it back, Dammit. Why was he like this?

"My physician's assistant will do any further check-up until you're discharged. We really should keep you for another couple days for observation, but you do whatever you feel is right, Bakugou."

Fuck . Katsuki cringed every time Izuku used his name. What the hell was wrong with him?

Just fucking apologize you idiot!

"I'll make sure the nurse comes in to give you more pain medication, hopefully you can actually rest and focus on healing."

Say something!

Izuku pulled the door open, then paused half way through the door. He took a step back, and kicked the door shut.

"You know," Izuku started, and turned to face Katsuki again,. "nNot that I need to explain myself to you, nor do I think you'll care."

Izuku stuck his hands back in his pockets, and swayed one foot back and forth in thought. Like a young boy talking to his crush.

"You were right on all accounts, Kacchan—" Katsuki nearly gasped. "All but one. I did want a quirk and I did want to be a hero. I don't necessarily think I could have gotten into UA, but I didn't really see the point in trying after everything was said and done. And someone important to me, told me that I could never be a hero without a quirk."

Who? Me? No, that couldn't be right. How many times did I tell him that and he never backed down once … Aauntie? No, she would never tell him that either ...

"So, I set aside that pipe dream, and sought out a more suitable career path. In truth, all I wanted to do was help people. You knew that. I wanted to make a difference," Izuku said. "And you know what? I do, and all without having a quirk."

Katsuki just stayed quiet, continuing to listen to Izuku ramble and tell him off. If anything, this was what he deserved, and he knew that. Plus, it had been years, he could probably listen to Izuku go on and on about almost anything and everything. Not realizing how much he'd actually missed it. Katsuki didn't dare interrupt him, just continuing to clutch the bedding in his fists.

Izuku waved his hand dismissively again. "Now, I may not be a hero by your standards. It certainly isn't part of my official title. Hell, you don't even need to acknowledge that I helped you. Not here, not now, not fifteen years ago."

Katsuki's eyes widened again, completely ashamed and stunned. He hadn't thought about the sludge monster incident in years. That was a low blow, even for Izuku.

"And, you can pretend all you want that your condition isn't as bad as it is, Kacchan. But I want you to remember something …

At the end of the day, when you get injured, you end up right back here just like everyone else."

Suddenly, it felt like someone had just stolen all the oxygen from the room, as panic squeezed his throat. His words cast a shiver of goosebumps across his skin with an air of authority that radiated off his body like the crack of a whip. It wasn't a warning, by any means. Just a way of putting Katsuki in his place, and yanking him down off his high horse.

"Goodbye, Kacchan."

With that, Izuku opened the door again, and stormed out. For the moment, the silence in his hospital room was deafening. Only the sound of his rapidly beating heart filled his ears. Whether the sound was coming from the monitor or his own chest, he couldn't tell. But it was driving him mad. The more he listened, the louder it got.

There was something final about his words.

Goodbye, Kacchan —

The way he'd said it. No more chances.

Goodbye, Kacchan —

He was almost positive he'd just heard that nickname for the final time.

Goodbye …

A few minutes later, a nurse came in to administer more pain medication, just like Izuku said. But he didn't speak to her, and she didn't speak to him.

Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought. That thought was Katsuki's only attempt at keeping the panic at bay.

I'll just apologize … Deku's always forgave me before … it's fine, I just have to apologize …

Over the next few days, as he stayed for observation, Katsuki tried to ask for Izuku multiple times, so he could try to make amends. But Izuku never came, and the feeling of unease grew with each passing hour.

For full disclosure, this was originally posted on ao3 and has several more chapters. I just wanted to try posting it here. It’s not complete yet, but I’m trying to get some motivation back. Super big thanks in advance if you took the time to read it.

#bkdk #dkbk #fanfic #angst #mha #my hero academia #ao3 #doctor Izuku Midoriya #pro hero Katsuki Bakugou

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monabee-draws · 5 hours ago

Text

A snippet from a fic I'm committed to finally writing about Rook, the Crows and all their complicated little relationships with one another. I'm trying to get a strong sense of Emmaline and Viago's weird relationship:

“Is the contract done?”

“Hello, Emmaline. How was your trip to the backwoods of the Free Marches? Horrible, thorny and only marginally better than digging ditches in Ferelden I’d wager. Were you knocked out of a window this time around and had to limp back to your horse with a broken leg? What a shame. I hope on your way into Rialto that insipid ferryman Giamo choked on his mother’s maltagliati, and you pushed him into the river for good measure, at least.”

With that, Emmaline De Riva sauntered into Viago’s private chambers, unheeding of the either the ban on guests, the guards down the corridor, or the locks on the doors. Viago sighed and flicked his eyes over to her to find the elven woman scrubbed of mission filth and dressed in a pale silk nightgown. The length of the ruffled hem concealed the site of her supposed injury. It had been a few weeks since he had last laid eyes on her. She had complained endlessly about her latest contract and the barely hidden disdain she was certain Master Ferre – the giver of said contract – carried after she beat him soundly in a duel the previous summer. Since then, the cloying heat had faded into a more bearable warmth, and it leached out of the night air rather than sitting atop tacky skin. The Marches must have indeed been stifling to visit that time of year.

“You are injured?” He asked, drawing back from his desk but remaining in the plush velveteen chair.

“Addi would not have allowed me back into the apartments if I was not healed, would she?” Emmaline drawled, closing the door behind her with her foot as she flounced inside.

“She is reliable, yes, unlike some others I could name.”

“I know Teia finds your bluntness charming but that is certainly not true of all women,” she replied cuttingly. Despite the sharpness of her words, Emmaline was limp and languid as she draped herself across Viago’s lap, careful not to knock the inkwell over as she plucked his quill from his hands and set it down. Viago’s arms came up around her to steady her weight. Was she thinner? Or was it the nightgown? In the dark of his bedchambers it was difficult to assess for pallor, but her skin was at least damp from cleaning herself and not from fever sweat.

“At least you remembered to bathe first before clamouring all over me,” he said, frowning as he discovered a scabbed line on her forehead, hidden beneath her bangs. She allowed herself to be prodded and looked over.

“I would never dareto sully the Fifth Talon’s sheets with Marcher mud or entrails,” she said sweetly, letting him hold her head in his hands as he tilted her chin. Satisfied, he let go of her face, and she took the opportunity to snuggle down into his arms, resting her chin over his shoulder and relaxing until she was boneless.

“You are not sleeping here,” Viago warned her, but allowed her the closeness, picking up with his work as she lay against him. She’d been smart enough to braid her hair so it wouldn’t tickle his face while he drafted letters.

Despite having her both her own room within Viago’s estate (rarely used, it was practically a guest bedroom but for her collection of contract trophies she worried might be stolen at her other address) and an apartment on the bay, Emmaline preferred to spend her transitory evenings in the rooms of the Fifth Talon. It was old gossip now and rarely questioned but for the odd new chambermaid or passing fledgling. What they did in the Fifth Talon’s rooms was, of course, above open speculation, but considering that a most meticulous man such as Viago De Riva kept spare housecoats at elven height in his closet it was clearly something indulgent.

Good mystical morning, everyone!

It’s WIP Wednesday Thursday!

Just:

Reblog this post with a snippet of (one of) your current project(s) and I’ll reblog it again with commentary/encouragement !

It doesn’t need to be DA related, you can share whatever you want!

Very chill, no pressure at all! Hope you all are having fun writing/drawing/creating!

#wip #viago de riva #oc: emmaline de riva #rook dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #myart #need a tag for writing now I guess

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brutal-nemesis · 7 months ago

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ok siiince you asked for requests for demon boy castys… the tongue cut out + gag seemed like such an adorable situation for him <33

Giving you that and a little extra because I wanted More Whump 💕

←Previous - Castys & Terror AU Masterlist - Castys Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: manhandling, a lot of unsexy noncon touching, slight dehumanization, partial nudity

Castys wasn’t sure if he slept at all that night, but after what felt like an eternity, Neteri reappeared wearing different clothes under her white coat.

“Good morning, Castys!” She sat on one of the stools from last night and motioned for him to do the same. “Get up, I’ve got wonderful news to share!”

Castys opened his mouth to retort, but he found he couldn’t form the words. His tongue was still…he looked away, swallowing, and sat up while remaining on the floor.

“You’re going to have to start listening to me, you know. Because,” she broke out into an excited smile, “I get to keep you!” Upon seeing Castys’s glare, she just laughed. “I figured you wouldn’t be excited, but trust me,” she held up a finger, “you’ll be much better off in my hands than if you were sold as a pet to some bored aristocrat. I’m sure they’d beat that personality right out of you, and I don’t plan on doing anything of the sort. As long as you cooperate with my experiments, you’re free to be yourself. You can even hate me as much as you like!” Castys raised an eyebrow at her final statement. He’d see about that.

After rummaging in her bag for a moment, she pulled out a little silver medal and moved to crouch next to him on the ground. “Hold still now,” she ordered as she started to bring it towards his neck. Castys wasn’t sure what was happening at first, but after a moment, it clicked, and he decided he’d rather not listen, leaning back. Neteri just sighed. “You’re not off to a very good start.” Well, it’s not like he wanted to be.

Suddenly, Neteri changed tactics, shoving him down on his back and straddling his waist before he could try to sit up, pinning his arms down with a knee on each elbow. Castys cried out, the wounds on his back from the whip lighting up in pain, and that combined with her full weight on him kept him from moving. He bared his teeth as her hand came closer, daring her to get within range, but she just curled her other hand in his hair, yanking it back and keeping his head firmly in place. Great. He was once again powerless against this tiny lady, forced to keep still as she attached that dumb little tag to the collar and sealed the metal shut with the same spell that kept him from taking it off.

“There,” she said once it was on. She tapped the tag, cold against his throat. “Property of Neteri Crozien. Whether you like it or not. Now,” she grabbed his chin, “are you going to let me put some new restraints on you or should I call the guards to manhandle you? Your resistance is pointless and only delaying the inevitable, exactly like every other time. Just nod if you’re going to cooperate.”

Did he want to get manhandled again? Not particularly. He’d had more than enough of being grabbed and held still while chains were taken off and put on. And it’s not like he was resisting out of pride or something stupid, he just fought back when it was something he really didn’t want to happen. Which was most things in the past couple days, but, hey, if new restraints meant he got to leave this boring-ass cell, he was okay with it. Her grip on his hair had loosened enough to allow him a small nod, so he gave one, praying she’d get the fuck off of him now.

Neteri smiled brightly at his cooperation. “Great! Although,” she got off of him and stood, thinking, “maybe just stay laying down. I don’t really trust you not to try and run at the moment, so just roll on your stomach and I’ll take the chains off.” Castys sighed in annoyance but complied, gritting his teeth as his weight went from his injured back to his burned chest. The cold stone floor felt a little good on it, at least, but it was a small consolation as he watched Neteri walk back over with a key and a coil of rope.

She squatted down and-fuck, that was a knee on his back, not her full weight but enough to make him gasp in pain. Paying him no mind, Neteri unlocked the manacles around his wrists, and he could barely enjoy the feeling of not having anything around them for a moment, just wishing she’d tie him up and get the fuck off of his back. It didn’t feel like she was going particularly slow as she pulled his arms behind him and wound the rope around his wrists, but the seconds still dragged by at an agonizing pace.

Finally, she finished tying the knot and took her knee off of his back as she stood. “There we go!” Castys just groaned, rolling on his side. “Oh, stop being so dramatic. It’s not like I was hurting you.” Castys’s glare deepened, and he awkwardly used his bound hands to pull up the back of his shirt enough to expose the bandages wrapped around his torso. Neteri’s jaw dropped slightly, and she just stared at him for a second before worry took over her features.

“I…I’m so sorry I…I completely forgot. That you were hurt. I wouldn’t have done that if I remembered.” Her head hung slightly. “I’m really sorry, Castys.” Her apology seemed genuine, but how the fuck did she forget he got whipped and branded yesterday? She looked back at him again. “Let’s just hurry and get you to your new home so I can heal you up, okay?” Wait, new home? She was taking him somewhere else? At first the idea was scary, but then Castys remembered that he’d never particularly loved living in the castle, so whatever. It was probably just going to be a different prison cell, anyway.

With ridiculous difficulty and a lot of groaning in pain, he managed to sit up, using his elbows to help him do it since his hands were kind of useless. By the time that was done, Neteri was standing above him with…a chain? He was already tied up what the fu-no. No fucking way. He growled as her hands moved towards his neck, baring his teeth once more.

“Seriously, Castys? You said you weren’t a dog yesterday, but you sure are acting like one.” Yeah, sure, whatever, but since he couldn’t fucking talk, he was forced to resort to other means of protest. He honestly wasn’t entirely sure where the growling came from himself, and, yeah, it was a little animalistic, but that didn’t mean he deserved to get put on a leash. “This is happening either way, so just give it up already.” Her hand was moving closer, closer, the clasp at the end of the chain open, ready to-

Once again, instinct took over, and before he knew it, his teeth were buried in the flesh of her hand.

Neteri cried out, jerking her hand back and dropping the leash. “Lyte! Seriously?!” She winced as she dabbed the wounds with what smelled like the stingy liquid from yesterday and used her magic to close them up, during which Castys couldn’t help but smile smugly. Once she was done healing, she pulled on her leather gloves and grabbed a couple rolls of bandages from her bag. “I figured you were going to be difficult to keep in line, but this is just ridiculous.” Castys took pride in being ridiculous, so he’d take the compliment. What he didn’t want to take were the consequences of his actions, but he was a little bit helpless at the moment, so there wasn’t much he could do as Neteri shoved a wad of bandages in his mouth and tied a strip around his head to keep him from spitting it out.

“There. You’re just about the only person who’d need to be gagged when they can’t talk.” Castys just looked away, feeling his face grow hot as she clipped the leash to the collar. She gave it a tug, but he didn’t budge. Now he was just resisting out of spite. Neteri’s expression grew even more frustrated, and it looked like she was about to say something before she stopped herself and took a deep breath, calming herself down. She crouched down to look Castys in the eye.

“Look, I’ve been going about this the wrong way. I hurt you when I didn’t mean to, so I’m not going to punish you for biting me. We’ll just call it even.” She paused and held up a finger. “The gag stays until we reach our destination, though. Just for safety’s sake. But I’ll tell you something about my plans for you. If you come with me, you’ll have a tongue again by the end of tomorrow. Does that sound good?”

Castys could be stupid and stubborn and petty and shake his head and sit here and then end up getting dragged off to wherever, or he could just suck it the fuck up and get the ability to complain back. Complaining would be nice...After weighing his options he nodded, and Neteri broke into a smile. “Good. Let’s go, then.” She helped him stand, and she seemed to do her best not to pull on the leash as they walked along. Soon enough, they had reached the teleportation stone, and Castys…he couldn’t help but be a little excited to leave this stupid place. He knew he was a fucking prisoner now, but he was basically a prisoner in his old life, too, minus the chains and plus a comfy bed.

At least he was going somewhere else.

The other palace was pretty cool, at least, the short glimpses he got before he was pulled into the lower levels, down halls and through doors until they arrived at his lame little prison cell. It did have a bed, though, so that was an upgrade. And a private bathroom?! Why did the prison cells in his family’s dungeon have to suck so much ass? He only spent two nights there, but still. If he was ever in charge of a dungeon, he would make sure it was at least a little comfy in case he got thrown in there.

Neteri clamped a manacle around his ankle, which was whatever, because that meant she untied his wrists and took that stupid leash off. And then, true to her word, she healed his wounds. The brand scarred, of course, which was…the symbol was kind of cool, but since it meant he was “property” or whatever he wasn’t too excited about it being on his chest for the rest of his life. At least shirts existed.

After that was done, Neteri instructed him to clean himself off and left him alone for a bit. He wandered into the bathroom, chain clinking with every step, and paused in front of the mirror. He looked pretty much the same as always, just a little more tired and blood-covered than usual. Oh, and the stupid collar around his neck. Neteri was fucking delusional, it didn’t look the slightest bit “cute” on him, it just looked…He didn’t want to see it anymore.

Once he was clean and dressed in some slightly comfier clothes, Castys tried out his new bed. It was nowhere near as nice as his old one, but it was way better than the floor, so he’d take it. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, Neteri poked him in the face.

“I’m back, Castys, get up and take your shirt off.” Castys sat up, but didn’t take his shirt off, instead just crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. His wounds were healed, so what the hell did she need it off for? “Come on, I’m just going to examine you and take some measurements. Nothing painful, I promise.” Not painful, sure, but probably still not pleasant. Even so, he didn’t really have much choice but to listen, so he pulled off his shirt and stood, hoping this wouldn’t involve too much touching.

His hopes were in vain.

It started off fine, her measuring his height and a few other things with a strip of leather, but then she started running her hands all over him, poking at him, moving him this way and that. He couldn’t help but flinch every time since he hated being touched, and Neteri was clearly getting annoyed by it. His full-body recoil after she ran a hand down his spine was the final straw. Wordlessly, she clamped a manacle around one of his wrists before shoving him down onto the bed. He tried to stand back up, but she basically fucking tackled him, pinning him down on his back for the second time today. And, to top it all off, she managed to loop the chain around the top of the cot before cuffing his other wrist, leaving him pretty much helpless.

“I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just kept still,” Neteri sighed, seeing his frustration. Well, it was a little fucking hard to be still when someone who’s basically a stranger is running their hands all over your bare skin. He considered trying to kick her, but she’d probably just chain him up more and keep going, and he’d rather this bullshit just be over with already.

Being chained down on his back somehow made this infinitely worse. There was nowhere to run, nothing he could do, Neteri looming over him as she put her hands all over him, touching his chest, his brand, squeezing his arms, grabbing his chin, pulling at his eyelids, gloves on now, hands in his mouth, poking at the stump of his tongue, feeling his teeth, gripping his hair to turn his head from side to side, his skin was crawling, crawling, his muscles tense, breaths coming short, fast, he just wanted her to get off stop touching him examining him taking notes reducing him down to just numbers just a body not a person not someone who got boundaries or personal space no just someone who gets touched and touched and touched-

“Castys! Hey, hey, just breathe.” Neteri was standing over him now, fiddling with the cuffs on his wrists, releasing him. Castys hadn’t even realized he was hyperventilating, but he tried his best to calm down as he scrambled to the other end of the bed, as far away from her as he could get. Neteri watched him sadly. “I…I was making you uncomfortable, wasn’t I? I’m sorry, I just thought you were trying to be a nuisance.” No shit he was fucking uncomfortable, how the hell did she misread that?! At least she looked upset by this, but it was way too late for that. Castys still felt like there were bugs crawling all over him, and he could feel his heart pounding out of his chest.

Neteri reached out a hand in a misguided attempt to comfort him, but after seeing how Castys flinched and bared his teeth, she backed off. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave you alone. Well, I’ll go get you something to eat, and then I’ll leave you alone. Until tomorrow, and then you’ll have a tongue again and you can complain all you want and yell at me, okay?” Castys would rather never have to see her stupid face ever again, but that’s not how this was gonna work, so he just nodded silently, not relaxing until she’d left the room.

He almost wanted to take a shower again, just to wash the feeling of her hands off, but it was starting to subside, so he just pulled his shirt back on and hid under the covers. What was that, exactly? He knew he didn’t like being touched, and he’d never let anyone do it remotely that much, so maybe being touched for so long in such an invasive way had been too overwhelming. Castys had thought he’d be a little tougher than this, since the thought of pain didn’t really scare him, but apparently being pinned down and touched was too much for him? Kind of…pathetic. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if he could talk, protest, fight back a little bit with his words. Maybe he’d be okay once he could talk again.

He just hoped Neteri wasn’t lying about giving him his tongue back.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump @blackrosesandwhump @fanmanga1357-blog @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@hearse-song @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen @galaxywhump

@starnight-whump @his-unspoken-words @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg @pumpkin-spice-whump

@painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad @befuddled-calico-whump @whumpinggrounds @whump-queen

@whumpedydump

#i wrote something #whump-queen #whump #castys #neteri #castys & terror au #thanks aki enjoy sorry it took a bit but i think it turned out more fun because of that hehe #okay DISCLAIMER: neteri forgot he got branded and whipped because i forgot #and wrote her like pinning him down and shit #and then i remembered that he had other injuries #so instead of rewriting everything and cutting out all that sexy shit i just made it her fault so you're welcome #she really does feel bad about it tho #sorry if the gagging wasn't as whumpy as you wanted 😔 once she gagged him neteri simulation was like ''what if she was nice''#because she realized her approach wasn't going to work and she can tell castys is really upset about his tongue #so there it is the way to make him cooperate #he wants to be annoying soooo bad #yeah idk why he started growling. feral fucking man #he is just 19 he is so so young here so the defiant streak hasn't mellowed much aka he bitey #he also hasnt really been touched that much against his will and when it happens oh no :)#idk if it was a full blown panic attack but def a mild one #neteri is afraid he might have been sexually assaulted based on his reactions and she feels really bad about it #she will ask once he can talk again and he can tell her no he just doesnt like being touched

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