#checking back on the blood and seeing all of the results came through made me more pleased than anything else in the world

[knifekris]

every day i struggle to make choices

[starfinss]

ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ — ʀᴏʀᴏɴᴏᴀ ᴢᴏʀᴏ

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: One Piece

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Roronoa Zoro + Reader

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW 

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 7,375

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: He’d gotten jealous when some random idiot hit on you, and you realized you didn’t mind that jealousy. The frenzied make out session in that tiny closet was just the result of that realization.

You hadn’t spoken a word about the situation since that day. That was two weeks ago.

And then it happened again.

Storms were the worst.

You used to love them, before you became a pirate. You found contentment in listening to them; the musical sound of rain against the window, thunder growling overhead, lulling you to sleep. Peaceful. That’s what you thought of them. There was a certain kind of incomparable coziness that came with laying tucked into bed while a storm raged outside. You were inside, warm and dry, in your own little bubble of warmth.

But that was then, and this was now. 

You knew you were in trouble when the sky had been blood red that morning, indicating the coming storm. It was just like the old mariner’s rhyme said, though thanks to Nami, you now knew the science behind it. Something about how the red color came from high water content in the atmosphere. You couldn’t remember the exact words she’d said.

Science or no, storms spelled trouble for sailors of any kind, even the kind that engaged in certain illegal activities such as piracy. Life was easy when the water was calm and the weather cooperated. Storms were a complication, and this one was no exception.

The low visibility, torrential rain, and rough water forced the Merry to dock at a tiny island town you didn’t even catch the name of, with you and the other Straw Hats left to find a motel or some other form of lodgings, since the rocking of the ship was making it hard to even stand up straight, let alone fall asleep. 

And that led you to now. Drenched and miserable, and standing in the shabby lobby of the town’s motel. 

“A room for six, please.”

The clerk looked at your captain for a moment before speaking.

“For six, sir?”

Luffy whirled around, counting the group out on his fingers before facing the clerk again. 

“Yep,” he said, and even unable to see his face, you knew he was grinning. “Six. One bed should do.”

Nami looked at Luffy in askance, clearing her throat. 

“Sorry about him, he’s an idiot,” she said, “how about six individual rooms?”

“A waste of Berry,” Luffy countered, waving off the navigator, “just give us the biggest bed you have.”

Nami sighed, running her hand through her hair, which was plastered to her forehead with rainwater. Your own was no different.

“Luffy, there’s absolutely no way we can all fit in one bed,” Nami said, then turned to the clerk, “we’ll take six rooms, if you have them available.”

The clerk nodded, clearly pleased with Nami’s much more reasonable request, turning his back to the group to check a clipboard. 

“We have five available, miss,” he said, “four with singles, one with a double.”

A hush fell over the crew as you took in the information. You chewed your lip. This was fine. You could just share with Nami. You were both women, so it made sense that way. Plus, you knew she didn’t snore, so you’d get a comfortable night’s sleep. You were just about to say something about this when Luffy beat you to it. 

“Who wants to share with me?”

Nami didn’t even look at him. “Not happening.”

Luffy wilted. “Why not?”

“What do you mean ‘why not?’”

Luffy looked offended. “I’m great at sharing beds!”

You figured this was as good a time as any to bring your idea up. “Nami—”

“I’m not having this conversation,” Nami said, more to Luffy than you, “you guys figure it out. I need a shower.”

“Wait, Nami,” you tried again, but she was already turning away, disappearing down the hall after collecting a key from the clerk, leaving you dumbstruck. 

Usopp gave you a look of sympathy. You appreciated that, even if it didn’t fix anything.

“Let her go,” he said, “she’s the one who navigated us through the storm to this island. She deserves her own bed.”

He was right, but that didn’t remove you from the awkward spot you were in. Your wet clothing was starting to get cold, and you were beginning to shiver, so it was suddenly less important who you may end up sharing with. 

“I’m still okay with sharing,” Luffy said, oblivious to any awkwardness, “anyone?”

You chewed your lip. You didn’t want to share with Luffy, and no offense to Usopp, but you weren’t all that keen about sharing with him either. He was your friend and you cared for him, but being that close in proximity with him would just be awkward. Sanji was similar in that regard. 

And that left Zoro. 

Zoro was different. 

You weren’t entirely sure how to define your relationship with the swordsman. It didn’t start off as smooth sailing, for lack of better terms. From the moment you met, you were constantly bickering. He was just as hard headed as you were, resulting in anything from petty spats to full blown arguments. The unstoppable force meets the immovable object, though it was hard to tell just who was what in that regard. 

Then the ‘incident’ happened, and things got even more complicated.

You shook yourself from your thoughts. You were too tired to deal with stupid feelings and the way Zoro’s eyes were boring into the back of your head. He had to be thinking exactly the same thing as you, and the thought of that simultaneously pissed you off and made your stomach twist in confusing knots. 

“I’ll take one for the team,” you said, breaking yourself from your thoughts, “one of you shares with me. It’s up to you which one it is. I’m going to take a shower.”

Without another word, you grabbed the key to the room with the double from the clerk, stalking off down the hall.

You jammed the key into the keyhole, stepping inside the room after you reached the door. It was a small room, a little shabby, but clean enough. The bed was on the left wall, centered beneath a painting of either a whale or some kind of indistinct mythical creature, you were unable to tell. The wooden floor was covered with a well worn striped carpet. The far wall was mostly taken up by a lumpy-looking red sofa, as well as two windows, both rather small and covered by threadbare curtains the color of watered down mud. Everything in the room had a sort of well-used air to it. As you entered, you got rid of your boots, leaving them by the door to dry out. 

All you’d brought along was yourself and a small rucksack with a nightdress you’d grabbed from your things, as well as a fresh change of clothing for the morning. You were starting to smell like fish and brine, so you made your way to the incredibly cramped bathroom connected to the room, quickly peeling off your clothes. 

Your skin was cold as you turned on the water in the standing shower, and you shuddered as you stepped under it. Thank God for the hot water. You half-expected it to be cold, which wasn’t uncommon in backwater motels like this one.

There was a half-full bottle of shampoo, seemingly left over from the last guest, and you hesitated to use it, but you also didn’t want to go to bed smelling like the worst parts of the ocean, so you squeezed some into your palm, lathering it into your hair. 

You knew what you were doing. You knew exactly who would follow you into this room. You groaned inwardly, your forehead thudding against the tile wall of the shower. You blamed that stupid jammed door for all of this. You blamed the idiot at the bar who hit on you, and the alcohol, and everything that led up to you being trapped in a closet with Zoro while bounty hunters trashed the building looking for your crew. 

Because that stupid series of events were what made you realize you had feelings for Zoro. And now things were weird. 

Silence filled by bickering was left empty and awkward, and the way Zoro kept looking at you when he thought you couldn't see didn’t help at all. Neither did the way his hands would linger on your waist if he passed you, just a brush of his fingers, sending electric shocks up your spine. And neither did the way he’d rest a palm on your thigh when you sat beside him at the dinner table. Nami was the first to notice the shift, though it was Sanji who deduced that something had happened between the two of you when you were shut in that closet, not that you’d ever tell him what it was, despite all his prying.

And something had. 

You remembered the buzz of alcohol fading as you bickered aimlessly, pressed closer than comfortable as Zoro struggled with the door. You remembered the way you snapped, something about how confusing he was being, and then he was gathering you into his arms, crushing his lips against yours, and how he’d crowded you against the wall behind you soon after. You remembered how his hands felt, drifting down your body to grab at your hips, how his tongue tasted like the whiskey he’d been drinking before, and how just his touch alone made you feel like you were losing your mind.

He’d gotten jealous when some random idiot hit on you, and you realized you didn’t mind that jealousy. The frenzied make out session in that tiny closet was just the result of that realization.

You hadn’t spoken a word about the situation since that day. That was two weeks ago.

And then it happened again. 

That was one week ago. You’d been in the kitchen, fixing yourself a sandwich late at night when Zoro appeared with the same idea. It started with you trying to bring up the closet incident, and ended with you caged against the countertop by Zoro’s arms, his mouth hot against yours, your fingers in his hair. 

And that wasn’t spoken of, either. 

You wanted to talk to him about it. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. You’d tried to approach Zoro about it, only to either chicken out, or end up with even more questions. It was incredibly strange, not only because it was out of character for Zoro to beat around the bush, but also because he seemed just as awkward as you were about it all. 

Maybe this would force his hand, you supposed. Or maybe he’d ignore you, though that was unlikely for obvious reasons, and you’d end up spending the night in the same bed as Luffy or something.

Through the thrum of the running water, you heard the door to the main room open, then close again. You couldn’t hear anything else, however, and whoever had just entered didn’t bother to announce their presence, but you were already pretty sure you knew who it was. You took a breath before turning off the shower, wringing out your hair before stepping out.

You toweled yourself dry before finger combing your hair, making sure to get rid of any knots before putting on your underwear and pulling your nightgown on over your head. 

You opened the bathroom door, pausing briefly when you saw Zoro sitting on the bed, busy unlacing his boots. He turned to look at you when you entered, clearly intending to only spare a glance, but his gaze lingered, doing a full sweep of your body. You suddenly felt self-conscious, tugging the bottom of your nightgown down further.

You shook it off. This was fine. You had him alone now. He had no way of escaping the discussion that needed to happen. 

With a breath, you circled the bed, sitting down with your back to him.

“We need to talk,” you said, “no more avoiding it.”

Zoro said nothing. You heard a soft thud as he tossed his boots away, followed by the rustle of fabric. 

“Zoro,” you said, “I’m serious.”

“Can we do this another time?” He said, finally, and you sighed, annoyed.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t feel like it right now.”

You turned around to face him finally. He was standing now, and wearing less clothing than when he’d first entered the room. His shirt was gone, as was the haramaki he usually wore. The latter was laid out on the nightstand alongside his swords, the former clutched in one of his hands. You didn’t blame him for taking it off, it was surely soaked with rainwater, but him being shirtless really wasn’t helpful at the moment. Infuriatingly, you felt heat rising to your cheeks. 

“I don’t care,” you said, “you haven't ‘felt like it’ in two fucking weeks. We made out, Zoro. Twice. Plus… everything else. That happened. We can’t pretend it didn’t.”

“We did,” Zoro said, crossing to the bathroom. He left the door open as he wrung his shirt out into the sink, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“There,” he said, “we talked about it. Are we done?”

You rose to your feet, arms crossed. “No. I need to know why. I need to know what that meant.”

Zoro turned to face you, leaning back against the sink basin. “What do you think it means?”

You tossed your hands up in frustration. “I don’t know. You kissed me. Both times.”

He shrugged, infuriatingly nonchalant, his face as impassive as always, though something about him was unmistakably smug. “I did.”

Zoro folded the shirt over the edge of the sink, moving to lean in the doorway. You cleared your throat, taking a step forward as well.

“Is that a problem?” He continued, eyes lifting at the corners in taunting mirth, “it didn’t seem like it at the time.”

“If it’s this easy to acknowledge it, why didn’t you talk about it at all? You got jealous, Zoro.”

Another shrug. Then a scoff, a near laugh, as he pushed off the doorframe to cross over to you. 

“I did,” he said, “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Don’t tell me you’d rather have been in that closet with that stupid drunk rather than me. Or that you’d rather be with someone else in that kitchen. Or, y’know. Everything else.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Of course not. Why would you even think that?”

A flash of mischief appeared in his dark eyes. “So you liked kissing me?”

You avoided his gaze, displeased with the way he’d taken control of the situation. “That isn’t the point. The point is—”

But you didn’t get to finish. Because before you could even finish being annoyed with him, Zoro was grabbing you by the shoulders, pressing his mouth to yours. It was a chaste, quick kiss, but it still left you speechless and reeling.

“And what about that one?”

You blinked, your thoughts a jumble of nonsense.  “Still not the point,” you managed, “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you, Zoro, this isn’t—”

Another kiss, deeper this time. You gasped in surprise, fighting back the urge to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Stupid, infuriating man, doing stupid, confusing things to you. You pressed your hand against his chest, pushing him gently, just to get a word in before he pulled you back in.

“Zoro,” you said, “what do you want?”

“You,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Fuck it. Fuck this, fuck him. This stupid moss-headed moron was messing with you, he had to be, and you could tell from the way he was smiling at you, crooked and devious, like the cat that got the cream. He liked seeing your confusion and uncertainty. He’d just been waiting for this, for you to snap. You stared at him furiously and wild-eyed before it was your turn to pull him in, your mouth colliding with his. 

Zoro’s hands rose to cup your cheeks, then shifted down to land on your waist, and you were moving, back colliding with the wall beside the bed. He tasted like whiskey again, which was puzzling since he hadn’t had any to drink that you knew of, though, knowing him, he probably had a flask stowed somewhere. 

It was almost a relief to kiss him, like a salve being applied to a burn, and you had to stop yourself from crying out as his hands drifted down to your hips, squeezing, his knee pressing at the close of your thighs. Zoro had been like a cat before, playing with his prey. Now he was going in for the kill. 

But two could play at that game. 

You slid your hands down from where they’d been folded behind his neck, flattening against his strong chest. Your fingers trailed down the defined muscle, pressing into the dips and curves of his abdominals, finally catching on the waistband of his trousers. Your thumb dipped into the ridge of muscle at his waist, nail scraping gently against the warm skin, and you felt him shudder, breath catching. 

His hand caught your wrist, with no particular strength, but enough to warn you of what you were getting yourself into. You responded by taking his lower lip between your teeth, tugging gently before linking your mouths together again. You knew what your were doing, and you knew what would happen if you riled him up more.

That did it. Zoro sighed against your mouth, a slow release of breath that seemed to display his rapidly fraying restraint, especially as you twisted your wrist free of his grip, fingers trailing up his sides, making him shiver. His grip on your hips tightened, the fabric of your nightgown bunching between his fingers, causing the garment to ride up, but you hardly cared, not when his knee was slotting itself between your thighs, pressing flush against your clothed cunt. 

The slow, easy grind made you gasp into Zoro’s mouth, hips twitching, but he was holding you down, firm against the wall, still an utterly infuriating tease, even now. You retaliated by palming him through his trousers, slow and deliberate, and he broke the kiss to look at you, breath heavy, gaze heated.

“You sure you wanna do that?” He warned, “you’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe I like getting burned,” you shot back, defiant.

Amusement danced in his dark eyes, his lip catching between his teeth as he fought a smile, and it was then that you noticed his face was flecked with countless freckles, a constellation across his cheeks. Absently, you wanted to kiss each and every one of them.

But the thought was ejected from your mind as he was kissing you again, tongue pressing into your mouth, and your fingers found his hair as he pulled your leg up to rest against his hip. Then his hand was between your thighs, broad palm against your clothed center, fingers pressing against the rapidly dampening fabric, dragging so slowly that it made you crazy, but his opposite hand was still holding you in place, unwavering, even as you squirmed in his hold.

Zoro’s fingers slid to your clit, pressing through the fabric of your panties, making you gasp into his mouth, the sound devolving into a low moan as he pressed again, rubbing in slow, lazy circles. He kissed you deeper, slower still, making you arch into him as his hand tightened its grip on your hip, pushing the fabric of your nightgown up higher, then sliding beneath to touch your bare skin. 

Fuck, the feel of his palm, rough and worn and calloused, against your flesh, it felt like perfection, and your body twisted as his fingers pressed against the bend of your waist, his touch like a simmering heat. 

“Touch me,” you blurted, muffled by his mouth, and he pulled back to look at you, amused.

“Aren’t I already doing that, doll?”

Your defiance was draining away more and more as the seconds ticked by, especially at the sound of his voice. It was a low, rough sound, husky and heated, and it made suffocating arousal shoot down your spine. It was almost embarrassing just how quickly he’d gotten you like this, only with his hands and stupid, smart mouth. 

“You know what I mean, jerk,” you shot back, but he simply chuckled, fingers sliding away from your clit to press at your entrance, pushing the fabric of your panties against your heated skin. 

You squirmed, but he held you still, his grip like iron on your body. You felt his breath against your skin, making you shudder, one hand gripping at his wrist, the one between your legs. His mouth brushed against the curve of your shoulder, dragging up the column of your throat, teeth grazing the spot just beneath your jaw, and you almost felt lightheaded. 

His fingers pressed against your panties again, aided well by the wetness that was soaking through the fabric, causing your body to jolt in his hold, back arching against the wall when his index finger circled your clit again. 

“Zoro,” you gasped, fighting for control, “please.”

“Please?” He rumbled, “‘please’ what?”

Your head fell back against the wall, eyes squeezing closed as he pressed down against your clit. Fuck, how were you already so wet? His mouth skated down your throat to your collarbone, teeth grazing your skin before you felt his tongue dart out, dipping lower, towards the top of your already low-cut nightgown.

“Just take them off,” you blurted, head swimming, “do it properly.”

Instead of doing what you said, he simply pushed the fabric aside, but before you could counter, his fingers were dragging along your cunt, teasing, and you let out a low whine. His mouth attached itself to your throat, teeth sinking into the tender flesh and making you cry out. His tongue smoothed over the spot he’d bitten before repeating the action. 

Slowly, his fingers sank inside of you, and your hands were grasping at his hair, making him groan against your skin, a sound that only riled you up further. He moved away from your throat to rest his forehead against yours, and when your eyes fluttered closed, he crooked his fingers inside of you, forcing a cry from your throat.

“Eyes on me,” he whispered, “don’t look away.”

A flush of arousal flooded your system at the request, and you realized how much of a struggle fulfilling it was as he began to move. His fingers were able to reach much deeper than your own were, not to mention that they were thicker. The slow, almost tortuous pace he’d adopted made the friction of his rough palm against your clit even sweeter. 

Gasping, breathless, your hands curled around his forearms as you clambered for any kind of purchase, anything to keep you anchored. Your eyes were still locked with his, leaving you unable to hide the flush on your cheeks, the desperation in your gaze. 

His eyes were growing wild. Famished and dark as midnight, his gaze slid down your body to what he was doing between your legs, and you watched in rapture as his lips parted, drawing a shuddering, stricken breath at the sight. You squeezed his arm, forcing him to look up at you.

“Don’t break your own rule,” you said, voice heated, and amusement flashed on his face.

“Minx,” he countered, palm grinding against your clit, and you let out a startled moan.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, “that’s what I wanna hear.”

You groaned, both in pleasure and in frustration. “Then go faster.”

He chuckled, full lips pulling into a roguish half smile. 

“Oh no,” he said, fingers curling inside of you, making your back arch, “I intend on taking my time with you. You have no idea what you do to me, do you? What you make me feel? I wanna savor this.”

His thumb moved to your clit, rubbing in slow circles, and you bit your lip to muffle your gasp of pleasure. This was embarrassing. You were so defiant before, but some pretty words and his stupid, pretty hands were enough to make all of that crumble.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t bite back. 

One of your hands slid down his chest again, fumbling with his belt before tugging it off. He was already hard, something evident through the fabric of his slacks, and when you pressed your palm against him, you got the pleasure of hearing him gasp.

You tugged at his button for a moment before it came unsnapped, then pulled down his zipper before reaching down past the fabric, palming him through his underwear. He shuddered under your touch, a muscle in his jaw tensing as you explored, breath coming out in a sharp burst when your thumb ran over his clothed tip. His eyes briefly flicked away from yours as you focused on that spot, rubbing in circles, making him grunt, and when you pressed down, ever so gently, he groaned.

“You’re making it hard to focus,” he said, and the way he was looking at you was almost predatory.

You looked at him through your lashes, causing his breath to hitch. “Good.”

Finally, you pushed his underwear down, tugging him free and catching him in your hand.

Fuck.

He was thick. Your fingers only barely met as you wrapped your hand around him, and his length was worth mentioning as well. Six and a half inches, you’d guess, maybe even seven. It was oddly pretty, too, with a pink flush. He was a good deal bigger than anything you’d been expecting, not that you thought about Zoro’s dick with any kind of frequency. 

You took him into your hand, rubbing at his leaking tip, smearing precum with your thumb, an action that made him groan. You stroked him slowly, just as slow as he was touching you, and you watched as he fought to keep his eyes on you, lashes fluttering. His jaw clenched, hips shifting towards your hand as you thumbed his tip, sliding your fingers down to rub the underside of him. 

Zoro’s breath left him in a burst, hips twitching forward, the hand on your waist tightening its grip to nearly bruising. His fingers curled inside of you, making your back arch, free hand flying to grab at the back of his head, tangling into his hair. Your eyes were still locked, and you wanted to kiss him so badly, but you wouldn’t be the one to break, not when he was still going so slowly it was driving you crazy.

So you sped up. You knew you’d catch hell for this, but you decided that whether or not you’d be able to walk tomorrow was a problem for then, when your thoughts weren’t blurry with arousal. 

You touched him in quick, even strokes, squeezing at the tip each time, and you got to listen to him growl, his hand slipping from your waist to press against the wall beside your head, fingers fanning out. You could tell from the quickness of his breaths that he was trying to keep control, and then he was speeding up, making you falter.

The curl of his long fingers as he pumped them in and out of you, creating a sound that should’ve embarrassed you, but really only aroused you more. Your brows pitched up, pressing together, because fuck, it almost burned after how slow he’d been going before, making you squirm, and his hand was grabbing at your wrist, pinning the hand that had been touching him to the wall. 

“Eyes on me, darling,” he hissed, voice heated, “you wanted faster? I’ll give you faster.”

You couldn’t help but moan as he pushed his fingers deeper, hitting all the right spots, mouth just grazing yours as you squirmed against the wall, bucking your hips against his hand. He was playing you like a damn instrument, thumb firm against your clit, and he rewarded you with deep thrusts of his fingers every time you cried out. You could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, and your fingers knotted in Zoro’s hair, eyes half lidded, pleading. He groaned, low and rough, just at the sight of your stricken expression.

His hand left your wrist to run up your body, stopping on your clothed chest, and he pushed the fabric down below your breasts, causing the straps to slip down your shoulders. His palm pressed against a breast, and your breath shuddered. Your hips jumped when he gently squeezed, rubbing a thumb over one of your nipples. He caught the nipple between his fingers, pulling, rolling it between them, and the sensation shot straight down between your legs. 

You were close. It was almost maddening, how good it all felt, and you could hardly focus on anything but Zoro’s hand between your legs, and how you were grinding down into his touch, chasing your high. He let you do as you pleased, gaze downright famished as he watched your face twist in ecstasy. You let out a loud, desperate whine, a near sob as he pushed his fingers deeper, thumb on your clit, driving you into that desperate build that comes just before you tip over the edge.

“Zoro,” you managed, voice strained, “Zoro, please.”

He said nothing, only replying with a growl as he crushed his lips against yours, frenzied and hungry, and your nails dug into his scalp as he brought you to your end, sending you toppling over that edge and into oblivion. 

You saw spots as you came, and he broke the kiss to watch your face, gaze dark as your head knocked back against the wall, hips bucking wildly against his hand, because it was all you could do not to scream, one of your hands slamming over your mouth, teeth sinking into your palm. You were squeezing around his fingers, spasms wracking your body, his name on your tongue like a broken prayer. Zoro pulled your hand away from your mouth, diving in to kiss you, deep and passionate, his tongue tangling with yours, and you moaned into his mouth as he worked you through your climax and into the realm of overstimulation. 

You were halfway towards a second orgasm when he finally pulled away, and you slumped against the wall, boneless, breath uneven and heavy. Zoro’s mouth pressed against the side of your throat, trailing up to your ear.

“Think you can handle more?”

You smiled, still breathless, looking at him through your lashes. “Let me catch my breath.”

“Tired already?” He taunted.

You responded by pushing off the wall to drop your nightgown off your body, followed by your panties. Zoro’s eyes raked down your figure, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and then he was pulling you to him, mouth hot against yours. You could feel his bare cock pressed against your stomach, and his hands slid down your hips to your thighs, boosting you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

His mouth trailed down your throat, sucking hard enough to surely leave marks, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You pressed your hips forward, grinding against him, and he moaned into your skin, his grip on your body growing tighter. He was growing impatient, you could tell. But so were you.

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he husked, and you whined, pressing your hips against him once again.

“Then do it,” you said.

That was all it took. You were suddenly moving, tossed onto the bed, and you watched as Zoro slid his trousers down his legs before he was taking his place above you. His mouth was hot against you, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, growing more impatient by the second, something that didn’t go unnoticed.

“So needy,” he chuckled, lips brushing against your jaw, and you arched your back, shifting your body against him, making him hiss between his teeth.

“So cocky for someone who was telling me how bad he wanted to fuck me,” you countered, “are you all talk, then, demon?”

His eyes flashed, thrilled and amused, and you knew you were in for it, but not one part of you cared. In fact, you welcomed it. Obviously just as impatient as you were, he was prying your thighs farther apart, his body slotting between them.

You felt his tip at your entrance, pressing forward, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as he pushed inside, and fuck, even just that was a stretch. Your head fell back, breath uneven. You felt Zoro’s mouth against your neck, and he was pushing forwards just a bit more, making you whine.

“Fuck,” you gasped, “fuck, you’re too big.”

“Relax,” he urged, voice rough, “it’s too fuckin’ tight, you gotta relax.”

You took a breath through your nose, fingers knotting into the duvet beneath your body. You took another breath as he sunk deeper, the stretch bordering on painful, but you could take it, even if it felt new and strange. 

Zoro’s face was flushed pleasantly pink, a sight that would be endearing in any other context, and you watched his teeth grit as he pushed forward again.

“You can take it,” he whispered, encouraging, “shit, relax, relax.”

You lifted your hips, allowing him to take hold of them, using them as leverage to push the rest of the way in, finally bottoming out.

“Fuck,” Zoro gasped, voice breathless and stricken, “fuck, that’s it, I knew you could take it— shit—”

His sentence was cut off by a loud groan, and you yanked him down into a kiss, appreciating how still he was being, despite his rapidly unraveling restraint, but you could hardly wait, even as your body protested at the unfamiliar feeling of being stuffed so full. You shifted your hips forward, your breath leaving your lungs in a sudden burst, and you heard Zoro groan in response.

“Move,” you gasped, “please.”

He gave a shallow little thrust, then another one, slightly deeper, and you felt his hands grip your waist as he pulled his hips back, only to thrust forward, filling you once more. 

You gave a choked, helpless moan as he thrust again, and fuck, you didn’t think you’d ever felt so full in your life. The stretch was rapidly making your thoughts turn to nonsense, head emptied out, and not one part of you cared at all.

Zoro adopted a pace that had you rocking back against the bed, head falling into the pillows, and he was dipping his head down to meet your mouth in a heavy kiss. His hands found your legs, pushing them up to wind around his waist, shifting his hips back to an angle that made your head spin. 

“Right there,” you slurred, “Zoro, Zoro, right there— so good.”

He gave a low, indulgent groan, his hands smoothing over your body, grabbing at your waist, tugging you flush against him before he was thrusting again, stuffing you full, forcing a sudden moan to fall from your lips. 

The room was filled with the sounds of skin on skin, mixed with your breathy, bitten-off moans and his soft grunts, and fuck, you didn’t know it would feel this good. It definitely wouldn’t be the last time this happened, not when it was more than evident that what you felt for Zoro was far from one-sided, and certainly not when it made you feel like this. 

Your nails dug into Zoro’s back as he fucked into you, and he gave a stronger thrust, breath shuddering. You watched a muscle in his jaw tense, twitching, eyes squeezing shut as you tightened around him. His head dipped to connect his mouth with the curve of your shoulder, dragging down to your chest, and his lips pressed against your nipple. His tongue passed over the sensitive flesh, making you arch into him, squirming, and his grip grew tighter.

“You don’t know how much I thought about this,” he breathed, hips rocking forward, “how many times I imagined fucking you in that closet. You’re so fucking gorgeous, with that smart-ass mouth. And you love this, don’t you? You’ve wanted this, too.”

You let out a shrill wine as he ground his hips against you, the base of his cock rubbing against your clit. Your hips lifted to meet his thrusts, making him groan, and he was holding you down, one hand on your lower stomach as he shifted back onto his knees, tugging your thighs around his hips. 

“I wanted this,” you slurred, back arching as he ground his hips against yours just right, “thought about it, too.”

Zoro’s hands tightened on your thighs, and you sobbed in bliss as he ground himself against you, the friction combined with the way he made sure to hit your clit with the base of his cock with every roll of his hips making it hard to even see straight. 

You tossed your head back, whimpering, and you weren’t going to last, not when he was doing everything he could to make you writhe. Each thrust left your head empty, breath heavy and rough.

“Harder,” you gasped, “c’mon, Zoro, give it to me.”

You felt his hands find the backs of your knees, lifting them to your sides to use as leverage as he pushed deeper with a heavy groan. His mouth met your throat, and then he was biting down, but the pain was nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure, the two mixing into an intoxicating feeling. Deep, hard thrusts sent you into incoherency, and when one of his hands left your leg to press a thumb to your clit, you let out a whine of his name.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Zoro groaned, “you’re gettin’ close, yeah?”

You could do no more than nod as he took your body with abandon, your climax so close it was driving you insane. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers in his hair, and he groaned in your ear as you bucked up against him. You were totally drunk on pleasure, overwhelmed. He was the center of your world at that moment as he thrust deep into you, the rough pad of his thumb working you into madness.

You bit down on Zoro’s shoulder, sobbing in bliss as your orgasm hit you, washing over you like a tidal wave. His name was the only word on your tongue as he worked you through it, repeating it like unholy scripture until you could do no more than whimper in ecstasy, nails digging into his back. 

“Fuck— fuck!” You heard him cry, hips stuttering, “one more, do that again, I need to feel that again.”

And he was hiking one of your legs over his shoulder as his pace turned borderline punishing, leaving you helpless, unable to do anything other than lay there and take it, but you hardly had the wherewithal to even protest, not as he worked your over-sensitive body to its very limits. 

His nails dug into your thigh, a growl tearing from his throat as his thrusts grew erratic. Your head was empty, completely fucked out, thoughts filled only with jumbled thoughts of the man above you as he fucked you, deep and hard. You felt tears beading at your lash line as Zoro worked you towards yet another climax, and you yanked him down into a sloppy kiss in crazed desperation for as much contact as possible.

“Gonna cum,” you choked, “Zoro, fuck—”

“Do it,” he snarled, “fuck, do it, cum on my cock— yeah!”

You felt yourself gush on his dick, muffling your scream in the crook of his neck, vision spotty, and you knew you’d get addicted to this, addicted to him, but you knew neither of you cared at all about that fact, not when he was chanting your name, chasing his release as you squeezed around him in a vice grip. His pace was relentless, entirely indulgent, and you could feel him twitching inside of you.

“Wanna fill you,” he gasped, desperate, completely undone, “let me, will you let me?”

Unable to form words, you only nodded, yanking him down into another kiss as he thrust all the way in, stuffing you completely full, moaning into your mouth as he pulsed inside of you, his hands bruising in their grip on your body. Heat bloomed inside of you, making you whimper against his mouth, and you slowly rocked your hips to help him through the euphoria of it all, something that made blunt nails dig into your flesh.

Together, you lay panting, breathless and undone, tangled together. Zoro broke the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing erratically, and it was a few tense moments before he was slowly pulling out, rolling off of you to lay beside you.

“That can’t be a one time thing,” you said, after you found your voice, and Zoro huffed what may have been a laugh.

“Fuck no.”

A few beats of silence passed before the bed creaked, and another few passed before you felt a towel between your thighs, wiping you clean. Then, the blankets were being pulled back, and you were being tucked under them. Zoro climbed in shortly after, tugging you to lay against his body.

Silence passed some more, and you almost thought Zoro had fallen asleep before he spoke.

“You make me feel things I’m not used to,” he said.

You stole closer, curling into him, resting your head on his chest.

“How long have I done that?”

He pressed his nose into your hair. “Since I met you.”

You snorted. “Bullshit. You didn’t like me when we met.”

“I did,” he said, “I’m being serious. You’re gorgeous and strong, and you know it. You don’t back down. You made me feel things I’ve never felt before for anyone. I didn’t know how to handle that, so I acted like an idiot.”

You smirked. “Hell of a time to tell me that, after you fucked my brains out. You had a crush, so you acted like a little kid on the playground, is that it?”

A snort. “Yeah, pretty much. Never said I was proud of it.”

You laughed, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours.

“I feel the same,” you said, “when you kissed me in that closet, I realized it. You could’ve just asked me to get a drink, though.”

Zoro smiled. “Sure, I could’ve. But this was way more fun.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Teasing me relentlessly?”

“Yep. Do you have a problem with that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, several. But I’ll pay you back for that in due time.”

“Give it your best shot. I look forward to it.”

Idle chatter continued for a little while before you began to doze off. You felt Zoro tug you closer as you fell asleep, and for once since you started sailing with the Straw Hats, you were actually thankful for storms.

And, as you felt Zoro’s lips press against the crown of your head, you were excited for the future.

“You had fun last night.”

You turned to look at Nami from your spot at the front railings of the Merry, eyes slowly growing wide.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure,” she said, “play that game. But maybe try a little harder to cover up the hickies next time you and Zoro… spend the night together.”

Shit.

“Nami, I’m sorry,” you relented, “it sort of just happened.”

She snickered. “Usopp told me he basically forbade anyone from taking the room with you after you left the lobby.”

You put your face in your hands, thoroughly embarrassed. “Usopp knows?”

“He isn’t stupid, anyone could’ve figured out what might happen. The hickies are just confirmation.”

“Confirmation for what?”

You bristled at the sound of Zoro’s voice, stiffening when he crossed the deck to reach you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” Nami said, and Zoro smirked, smugness radiating off of him in waves.

“Do I?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why else would she be walking funny?”

Zoro shrugged, nonchalant, still smug as ever. “I guess we’ll never know.”

And as he tugged you closer, nose pressing into your hair as Nami turned to walk away, you couldn't help but smile.

[dylansbedroom]

you've always looked up to me. even as kids, you played with my toys, watched the same movies as me, and wore my clothes. when I came out to you and our parents, I recognized the look in your eyes. admiration, love. brotherly or otherwise. so I wasn't surprised that when it was your turn to come out, you came into my bedroom afterward and asked me for advice.

I drove you to your first endo appointment. I sat in the corner when they drew your blood for labs, made conversation with the staff so you could relax. showed you where the needle goes and how deep to push it in. pretended not to notice how shaky your breath got when I rolled the hem your boxer briefs to your upper thigh. that cute little whimper when I lifted your chin to examine the onset of facial hair.

and all this time, I've been going through my own journey. every new patch of hair, every drop in my voice, I've showed it all to you as proof of what you can expect. you don't have to be scared, because your big brother will do it all first.

phallo is tough. time, money, recovery, multiple operations. but you've been there for me through all of it. feeding me and bringing me my meds. I can tell you like taking care of me. it makes you feel like a big boy, doesn't it? it's nice to switch roles sometimes.

just because I'm sedated doesn't mean I don't notice you. I see those little gym shorts you wear around the house. how they hug your ass and get caught in the cleft of your cunt, showing off your tdick. we've always just looked, never touched. even though you make it difficult. we've always left things unspoken. and for a while, I thought I could be happy with that. maybe I convinced myself the fantasy would be better than the real thing.

but I'm so frustrated. I've been in bed for a while. lots of check-ups, nerves reconnecting. my body has changed so much. it's hard to ignore the need now that I'm bigger. what used to be butterflies in my stomach has become a hot ache in my pelvis.

so don't be surprised when I tell you to sit beside me on the bed. don't be shocked when I pull down the blankets and tell you I'm just going to show you, since you've asked so many questions.

and don't look away. I'm going to wrap my hand around it so you can really see the size. put your hand on your own cock. over your little shorts, feel how much smaller it is compared to my new one.

cute, you let your mouth hang open a little because you were staring so intently. you ought to close it unless you plan on using it. to compliment the results, I mean.

of course it gets hard. let me show you how. watch how it changes. pretty cool, yeah? it's impressive. maybe someday you can have this. right now, you're stuck with that cunt, though, aren't you? oh, you're embarrassed about it, I can tell. you want a dick like your big brother's. hey, maybe you can get one that matches mine. same dimensions.

you tired of looking? want to feel it? in your hand? inside? deep? it's nothing weird. just want to show you what you can expect. just trying to help you decide what kind of man you want to be. hnng fuck. god, finally. finally, you've touched it. and now there's no going back. you want it. you want everything, don't you? me too.

[cultofdixon]

Motherly Instincts

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • It doesn’t go unnoticed how much you put your love into everyone in the group. Especially the Grimes’ kids. Daryl could only wish you’d take care of yourself • TW: Canon Violence / Sleep Deprivation / Anxiety / Over-Protectiveness

Requested by: Anon

Everyone knew about Y/N’s relationship with the Grimes’ kids. She cares about them deeply and when Lori passed, one would say she took that motherly role out of a natural instinct. When the infusion of Woodbury folk came into the prison, Y/N has even been mistaken as Judith and Carl’s mother and of course people corrected them. Even her.

But even if she may not be their mother, or their blood for those who care about that aspect…she could careless what others say, nothing will stop her from protecting them as if they were her children.

Daryl always had a soft spot for kids and seeing Y/N with them, his fondness for her only grew. Even when their luxury of a community came crashing down with the return of the Governor…

The archer was only thankful to have found Y/N within the woods the second people started fleeing from the prison once the walkers and fire came through. They had Beth with them and even from their farm days, Y/N cared deeply for the girl.

“You think we’ll find the others?” Beth asks Daryl first as his neutral expression gave no clear answer but she knew he wasn’t very hopeful.

“If we don’t, they will find us” Y/N reassures the young Greene. “Maggie will do anything to find her family and with that said, we’ll also do our best”

As they found temporary shelter within the forest after running for some time, Y/N finished getting the fire going as Daryl finished with the trigger line of cans or anything he found from the trunk they all found shelter in when the herd came through.

Beth did her best to help even if trying to cut more like for Daryl resulted in her nicking her finger.

“Let me see” Y/N took her knife away for a second to check the cut as she used a bit of the water from a bottle they found to clean it. “I’ll help Daryl finish. You go ahead and get some sleep, okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, we’ll keep watch” She smiles picking up the string she was cutting and went ahead to help Daryl as he had paused to watch the two for a moment before finishing the job.

Once more of the night took them…Daryl sat propped up against a tree that connected two of the trigger lines as he watches Y/N rub soothing circles on Beth’s back while her head rest in her lap. She was wide awake and didn’t seem to be getting sleep any time soon but that didn’t stop Daryl from keeping himself awake.

Even if his exhaustion took him once that when he woke, it was morning and the fire was set ablaze once more. He quickly scrambled when no one was around but Beth was quick to make herself known.

“Sorry, Y/N said to leave you sleep more…”

“And where is she?” His worry spilled in his tone as Beth gestured into the woods.

The archer didn’t even get far after rising when Y/N made herself known to the two carrying a squirrel which resulted in a satisfied sigh from Daryl and a disgusted look from Beth.

Once the three sort of replenished themselves and set off to scavenge while also find any trace of the others…they only seemed to get themselves further into what else lies in the apocalypse.

Beth spotted a sign for a country club so they’ve decided to check it out and collect some things if needed. Daryl was the first to step into the building finding the hanging walkers as it brought an overall unpleasant feeling to the three. Y/N watches Daryl kneel down to collect some of the money and valuables he saw as she couldn’t help the scoff to escape her.

“What?”

“You think that stuff is more useful than food and water?” She was just being honest and it left the man a bit dumbfounded until walkers started banging on the door they came through.

“Come on!” Daryl exclaims gesturing the two to flood in as Y/N grabbed his shirt forcing him to enter along with her.

Throughout the entire place they found new clothes to replace whatever may be torn on their person and a few things that can carry water. The food was scarce and questionable. Beth found herself in a few predicaments with walkers but she handled them, even if the worry written all over Y/N’s face came out clear as day when she’d find her over the now dead walker after taking it out.

“Are you alright, hun?” Y/N frowns as Beth nods giving a reassuring smile before continuing on her way. She locked eyes with Daryl who came to check on them both as her body tensed slightly thinking of the others. “What?”

“She can handle herself” He exhales bringing his gaze to the floor. “Don’t gotta hover” and with that he continued on his sweep of the place.

After being in that place for a while, experiencing more than what they signed up for. The three started to move again…finding a chapel of some sorts or more so a cemetery with a church like building in the center of it all. Beth sprained her ankle resulting in Daryl carrying her on his back and Y/N taking care of any walker in their path, which he didn’t want. He wanted to take care of her.

“Here, prop it up” Y/N moved the other chair that Beth wasn’t set in to put her ankle up while Daryl checked the cupboards. “Anything good?”

“Got some pigs feet and jam. Sounds like my kind of meal” He jokes while handing Y/N a jar of jam as he expected her to look for a spoon but couldn’t help but stare when she scooped a good glob of it on her fingers.

Y/N glared back at his staring making him scoff followed by a short lived chuckle as he handed Beth the canteen of water they’ve got. They didn’t take everything, just enough to satisfy the achy feeling from being hungry and leaving the rest for whoever comes by.

But it wasn’t that simple.

It felt as if it was an unsettling sign for more bad shit to happen when a dog came on their doorstep stuck in the trigger line Daryl set up. Y/N went out completely to go after the dog because in her words “she has a soft spot for them” and it could lead to more people. But when both the archer and young Greene thought it was her return with the soft pound on the door—-it wasn’t.

Then everything went sideways. The two struggled to get out and once they did, they separated long enough for this mysterious car to come snatch up Beth. Daryl chased the vehicle for as long as he could but without his bike he couldn’t get far.

Lost the prison

Lost his family

Lost…

Daryl’s frustration left him defeated in the middle of the road as he thought about giving it up right then and there. But there was still a small possibility of finding any of the others that could’ve found his…yeah. While out there.

But of course he had to get tied in with a bunch of bad apples that reminded him of people Merle used to associate himself with during their drifter days. He simply wished that this Joe guy wasn’t talking about someone he cared about in terms of getting revenge for the death of one of his own.

Yet again, that was asking for a lot in the end of the world.

“These are good people…” Daryl frowns watching Joe keep Rick in a hold as he exhaled a dry laugh.

“See…now that’s where you lie” Joe hissed letting one of the Claimers force Daryl against the hood of the truck.

The second Daryl made impact, he was about to fight until he noticed something coming through the treeline. He couldn’t make out the image until suddenly a javelin like object came barreling through almost nicking him but getting the claimer square in the face.

“What the fu—-“ The claimer grabbing Carl was suddenly thrown off the kid as he quickly locks eyes with a bloodied Y/N. “Wait wait wait I wasn’t gonna—-“

Y/N didn’t even give it a second thought when shooting the guy as the gunfire led Michonne to quickly swiping the claimer pinning her with her katana. Then Rick instantly ripped the leader’s throat out before the remaining claimers could take in what just happened. Daryl quickly pulled the javelin Y/N had thrown out of the dead claimer taking out those remaining.

Once they were down, Daryl pulled the javelin out of the dead tossing it aside when he realized it splintered and is of no use anymore. He quickly brought his attention to Y/N who he wanted to shower with questions of where she was but she was currently latched onto Carl holding him protectively after what could’ve happened.

When the few decided to rest for the night, Daryl took first watch and was about to check on Y/N when she came to him instead.

“Are you hurt?” He instantly asks even if her eyes told him she was going to ask the same of him while she carefully brought her hand to his cheek. “I’m okay”

“I’m sorry for running after that dog…it was just that until this car came out of nowhere and—-“

“Took Beth…how far did yea get?”

“Not far. Got stuck in a mini herd and didn’t want to come back to you in case….” Y/N shrugged the obvious end to that sentence as Daryl’s concern only grew but she gave him a small smile. “I’m fine. Ended up surviving with their blood covering me…then traced back to the cemetery then the road…and here we are”

“Don’t…don’t stray again alright?”

“I promise”

And she did. She did for more than the archer, but for their family and the newbies that came along when the horrors of this sanctuary was one with cannibalistic tendencies…

It was the first of many tragedies.

When they found Beth and devised a plan or more so a trade for their family, no one expected her to get one last shot in…one simply wishes she didn’t have to die as a result. Rick was taken aback by the sudden gunfire as Daryl didn’t hesitate to put this Dawn bitch into the ground after taking out someone he deeply cared for.

The screams that escaped the eldest Greene—-the only Greene, will forever haunt those who’ve heard it. Daryl and Y/N especially.

The universe kept taking unfortunately. Tyreese was next and that brought a bit of self blame onto Noah as he avoided Sasha’s gaze every chance he got even when she got the group some food…we don’t talk about that.

After some time alone, Daryl returned from what was a needed moment even if he noticed Y/N’s worried expression when she caught a glimpse of what he done. But he brushed it off when Rick approached him with the sign that went with the mysterious water.

“Think it’s poisoned?” Daryl asks while the one that annoys him most currently, Eugene, bent down and picked up one of the bottles.

Abraham instantly smacked the bottle out of his hand once he unscrewed the top before smacking him upside the head. “Are you mad?!”

“We won’t know unless someone tries it!”

“Just because you screwed with us with useless information, doesn’t mean we want you dead” Rosita adds with a hidden debatable look from Glenn that no one noticed.

“We just need to hold out a little longer. We’ll find something” Y/N was quick to add and it was instantly met with a scoff from Sasha. “What?”

“I’m surprised you lived this long with that optimism of yours”

“At least there’s still someone with optimism in this group” Carol cuts in with a bit of a defensive tone for her family as Daryl was about to bite in. “We’ll give the last of our safe collected water to Jude and Carl, a few more days on the road won’t kill us”

“I agree” Y/N finishes such and before any more words could be exchanged, the cosmic whatever decided to grace them finally after all it’s taken.

The rain fell and it brought a few laughs from some, but much needed silence from others. Y/N shrugged her jacket off to cover Judith from the rain as Abraham and Carol went ahead with filling the bottles with the collected rain water. When the rain started to pick up into more of a storm, then Rick shouted for everyone to find shelter for the night and that led Daryl to reveal the barn he found from his moment before.

The barn was much needed even with the scare of it collapsing at least once because of the herd coming through. But finally…a moment to collect themselves and rest…

Daryl came back inside to switch from his watch with Sasha as he noticed Y/N fighting off sleep when watching Judith sleep comfortably in her father’s embrace and Carl struggle to sleep on the dirt ground of the barn. He wondered when the last she slept was and brought himself closer to her but stalled when he watches her gently stir the young Grimes.

“Come here…I’ve gotcha” Y/N whispers gesturing for Carl to lay in her arms and he was hesitant at first until he eventually brought himself into her arms. “I’m here…” she whispers to him as her words finally led him to relax resting his head against her chest.

“Go sit with her” Carol whispered to Daryl knowing of his feelings and how in the moment he worried for her. “Give her something to rest her head on” she pat his shoulder to make it obvious as he quietly brought himself to the corner of the barn where she sat with Carl curled up in her embrace.

As the archer got comfortable beside her, he watches her bring her jacket to cover Carl as he finally fell asleep.

“You should sleep” Daryl whispers to her as she tiredly brought her gaze to him a moment when she had her head rested on top of Carl’s.

“I’m okay”

“You’re not” He kept his voice low to keep the Grimes kid from waking. “I’ll keep you safe. You’ve got him, let me take care of yea”

The smile that graced her features that night he will keep to memory, especially the feeling of her warmth on him when Y/N finally laid against Daryl with Carl comfortably in her embrace. He brought his arm around her keeping her close and glaring at anything and everything that dared wake either of them.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

something tells me our ghoulie would be fond of period sex (i’ll go to horny jail now)

Bloodletting

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,839

Warnings: smut (18+), blood play, bloody cunnilingus/bloody kisses, period sex, masturbation (male), rough sex, creampie, biting.

Notes: Can't lie, this was my immediate thought watching him tear into that bloody chunk of meat for the first time. I usually try to include at least a little plot, but this is basically all porn. Very fun submission to write; thank you! Please save a good seat for me on the bench in horny jail, I'll be in promptly.

Fun fact: orgasms can help relieve period cramps for some people.

Today had been a poor choice of start point for this long walk.

Normally, trekking across the bombed out western seaboard was strenuous and uncomfortable enough, the deadly sun baking seemingly the entire planet to a crisp, the cloying dehydration, the constant danger that something or someone was around the corner, ready to eat you. It was a far cry from the safety and monotony of the vault you'd grown up in. Usually, you were able to find lots of beauty on the surface, plenty of things to appreciate. But right now everything was just awful and uncomfortable.

Menstruation was such a nightmare topside. The proper products were apparently incredibly difficult to find anymore, leaving you to make the best of things with old torn pieces of clothing and less-than-ideal medical supplies. But these things didn't provide the absorption you'd long been accustomed to, and you kept having accidents the last few days, the result of a heavier-than-average flow. Normally, these things wouldn't bother you, but it was insanely annoying to constantly feel as if you were bleeding through basically the only clothes you had, doubly so when there was no place to clean them or bathe yourself most of the time. Besides, these pants chaffed terribly when they were damp.

Months back, you'd made the choice to ditch the vault suit. It was surreal and sort of sad feeling, packing away what had truly been a symbol of your identity for so long. However, it attracted far too much attention and caused trouble when people assumed they could take advantage of you, so you'd opted to start dressing like a proper Wastelander, boiled leather armor and denim pants. Right now, however, you desperately wished you'd been wearing the suit. The absorbent liner would have saved you some of this embarrassment.

The old ghoul had been telling you some story or another as you mounted a steep hill, your mind tuning in and out in frustration. You were sweaty, cramping, bloated, and bleeding on yourself, and all you wanted was a chance to clean yourself up and sit down for a minute. Eventually, the two of you came across what looked to be the abandoned skeleton of an old repair garage, just barely maintaining its tall stance against the horizon. As the two of you began to pass it by, you paused.

"I need to stop for a bit." you said, frowning at him as he turned his gaze to the position of the sun in the sky and back to you, confusion plain on his face.

"Whassa' matter?" he asked, "You're not usually this pussy about the sun anymore. Been long enough."

He was right, you were usually able to soldier on better than this. Today wasn't one of those days, though.

"I need like ten minutes alone, okay?" you snapped, short of patience. "I just...need it."

Your companion held up his hands in a silent, play-offended gesture of surrender, stepping aside to let you walk into the ramshackle little garage.

"Ten minutes!" he called teasingly behind you, prompting you to roll your eyes despite him not being able to see it.

Dropping your bag against the wall, you quickly toed your boots off so you could shuck your pants to the ground, groaning quietly at the bloody mess between your thighs. Digging some dirty rags out of your bag, you checked the spare canteen you kept undrinkable water in. Almost empty. You wanted to cry.

You could always ask Coop for some of his, since he was prone to drinking from questionable sources. He might even give you some, close as you'd become lately, thanks to a night of whiskey and Jet by the fire that had led to other forms of entertainment.

But you'd rather not have to explain this to him. As you did your best to scrub away the rusty red covering your skin, you wondered if he even remembered that this was something that happened to women. You had no idea what you were going to do with your pants.

Apparently, time had slipped away from you, as he appeared suddenly in the doorway a moment or two later, already speaking to you like he'd been standing there the entire time.

"It's been fifteen minutes, girlie. I'll have you know--" came his halted snark, quickly cut off as the two of you made eye contact, as he took in your nakedness below the waist. You felt a creeping sense of panic, a desire to flee out the broken window to your side. Neither of you said a word, and after a moment, he stepped forward towards you, softly gripping your wrist in his hand and holding it up to examine it. His honeyed eyes flicked back and forth between the soiled rag in your bloodied hand and where you'd been attempting to clean yourself up, briefly moving over to where your pants lay crumpled up on the floor.

"I'm--" you began, wanting to explain that you were fine, but you were quickly and decisively cut off from speaking when he lifted your bloody fingers to his mouth, sucking them between his lips with an obscene sigh. Your jaw fell slack as you watched him lick them clean, feeling like you were having some sort of erotic fever dream you'd wake up from any moment. Your hormones must've been working in tandem with the sun to drive you crazy.

However, it only continued to escalate as he seized you by the wrist, dragging you a few feet forward towards the rickety, grimy couch that leaned against the back wall, shoving you just enough to make you sit right in the center, a stale plume of desert dust filling the air around you as he rucked your hips up against his chest, your calves hooking over his shoulders. One of your flailing, still-socked feet knocked his hat clear off his head, sending it tumbling down to the floor, but he didn't even seem to notice, too preoccupied with running his hands along your inner thighs, smearing through the patches of drying blood there with fascination.

Your whole face burned white-hot, but you continued to watch him closely as his hands converged at your mound, one thumb tracing lightly over your now-swollen slit, just barely grazing your bud and drawing a hiss from between your teeth. However, instead of touching you there again, as you'd hoped he would, both thumbs traced down the line of your labia, parting them softly and spreading you open for his hungry eyes to see.

This new kind of attention made you squirm a bit at its intensity, the movement making your abdominal muscles clench just right to draw a trickle of warmth from between your legs, your face reaching supernova in embarrassment, but before you could pull away, he dove forward, his mouth sealing itself over your cunt and lapping wildly. The feeling was electric and ticklish and sent you clamoring to grab onto anything for leverage, letting out a screech that was half giggle and half moan.

He had done this before, gone down between your legs and licked and tasted and teased you until you couldn't handle it anymore, and always with great enthusiasm (and more than a little smugness, frankly), but never with a hunger like this. His thick tongue traced back and forth along your folds, seeking out every sanguine drop before dipping back down to your entrance, the wriggling muscle slipping inside with ease, drawing out another cry from you.

You were on fire, being teased more than you could handle; his tongue felt amazing, but largely avoided where you really wanted it to be, leaving you pushing and grinding your hips against his face as best as you could in your strange, folded over position. With one proper swivel, you managed to brush your clit against the bony ridge that sat at the top of where his nose would have been, scraping just right and sending you bucking right back at the same angle. The rough way you pushed against him was met by his hands curling under your ass, attempting to yank you even closer to his face as you felt that knot in your gut begin to tighten.

"Oh god, Coop, I'm gonna cum." you gasped, nails digging into his scalp as your thighs pulsed around his head. The older man, typically quite silent for most of the performance, let out a rather loud groan at that, and the sound was enough to push you right into a tense, crying orgasm, your little mewls ringing off the ancient concrete walls. If he were any other man, you'd worry about smothering him between your damp thighs, your scrambling hands pressing into the back of his head.

Fortunately, Cooper Howard wasn't just any man.

He continued to fuck you with his tongue through your climax, dragging it out for what felt like minutes. However, once you finally came down from that euphoric peak, he didn't stop, his tongue continuing to slather across you in full, wide strokes, his fingers moving up to tease at your oversensitive clit.

This, too, he had done before, this beautiful torture of keeping you constantly on the verge of a new orgasm despite still riding the wave of your current one. You both loved and hated it, feeling like every nerve in your body was alive with electricity, but simultaneously on the verge of pain from all the sensation. Presently, you loved it a lot more than you hated it, feeling the tight, cramping muscles in your belly relax just a little with your release. Glimpsing down at him once more, you could see that he'd tugged his hard cock free from its confines, jerking himself enthusiastically.

The ghoul's lips wrapped back around your clit, long, nimble fingers probing your saliva-slicked entrance. Two of them slid inside to the hilt before you even really registered their presence, causing you to hiss at the slight burn of the rad-rough flesh against your sensitive insides. The suction on your bud soothed the burn, allowing you to relax, and soon a third was added alongside the first two, quickly pushing you into another sudden and intense climax, washing over you like a tidal wave as he stretched you. When he eventually pulled his hand away, it was half-covered in red.

You were still trembling hard as he quickly worked his way back down your thighs, swiping up anything he may have missed. The sensation of his tongue running along your plush flesh made you giggle, earnest and breathless, but the sound was immediately cut off with a whine when he suddenly turned and viciously sunk his teeth into the meat of your inner thigh, not hard enough to break the skin, but damn near.

This, he had never done before.

Of course, you knew the man was intimately familiar with sinking his teeth into human flesh, but feeling them against you didn't frighten you as you expected it might, the sensation exhilarating and primal. The searing, pinching pain made you squeal, and one of his ungloved hands jammed up against your lips to silence you, filling your nose with the smell of iron and gunpowder. Come the morning, you'd be sporting a gnarly bruise there. The knowledge sent another hot tremble down your spine.

Unlatching his jaw from your leg, he pulled himself up to his full kneeling height, right even with you, a wild look in his eyes you weren't sure you'd seen before. So often he had the brim of his hat to obscure them, but now they stared, wide and glassy, into your own.

His fingers fisted into the already wild hair at the back of your head, pulling your forward into a passionate, metallic-tasting kiss. You could feel the way your face attempted to stick to his where he'd smeared your blood around your mouth with his hand. Quickly, he began to lean forward over you, pressing you into the mildew covered cushions as he pulled himself on top of you. The dry-rotted frame of the couch groaned loudly in protest at the additional weight, squeaking and sighing out curses as he repositioned your legs along his hips, falling right into place to rub his throbbing prick against you. Another throaty noise left you, strangled and awkward, but you were past being able to be embarrassed right now.

It distracted you just enough when the old cowboy dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his lips dancing along your pulse point, that you didn't tense when he pushed his way inside you, burying himself nearly to the hilt in one push. Both of you let out soft, satisfied groans as you stretched taut around him, clenching hotly already after all the attention he'd given you, his heavy breathing in your ear making every hair on your body stand on end.

For a short moment, he allowed you to adjust to his girth, warm hands pushing your shirt up to expose your breasts to him. His bare hands felt like they were everywhere, swiping affectionately against your face, tugging and pinching at your nipples, eventually settling into your hair, holding your head steady and forcing you to look at him as he began to fuck you. It didn't take long before he had you built right back up, the rub of his pelvic bone against you too good.

"Go on, gimme one more, baby. I know you can." he huffed, his warm breath tickling you just right. His thumb was suddenly strumming against your puffy, sore clit again, and tears brimmed in your eyes as your muscles seized once again, whimpering almost pitifully as you gave him what he wanted.

"Attagirl." he praised, running the blunted edge of his teeth along your throat as your body tugged at him. Your breathing was hard to control, making you see spots as he shifted your calves back over his shoulders, basically folding you in half once more as he pulled himself up higher and began to rut into you in earnest. The blunt head of his cock slammed into your tender cervix like this, making you jump and whine, but your legs only tightened around his shoulders, pulling him closer as he used your body to get himself off.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack, and the entire couch frame collapsed into a plume of dust, even worse than before, making you screech in shock. Cooper, however, seemed to barely notice, his pace not even slowing as he shifted you a few inches away from a busted 2x4 sticking out in your direction, pressing you harder into the cushions that were now trapped beneath you. Nevertheless, he did seem to be making sure you were okay in his own way, his wild eyes and insistent hands checking over every visible inch as he continued to pump between your thighs. When he dropped his mouth to your breasts, you throbbed around him, cooing as he sucked and nipped at your breasts.

"Fuck." he growled at the sensation, his hips slapping against you even harder, but in less coordinated strokes, his head heavily dropping back into the crook of your neck again, his entire weight resting on you now.

As you felt him begin to throb inside you, signaling his own release, you also felt those strong teeth latch onto the sensitive skin where your neck met your shoulder, digging deep into the smooth muscle as you screamed. You could hear your lover groaning loudly as he gave you a few more rough strokes, his teeth keeping firm at your neck as he pulsed every last drop of himself inside you. Beyond the pinching pain repeating itself, you could feel the burn of him sucking hard on the flesh between his teeth, trying to mark you up as visibly as possible. Remarkably, this was enough to push your oversensitive body into one last muted orgasm, leaving you shuddering against his chest.

Once his teeth released you, his strong arms wrapped around your body, carefully flipping you so that you laid across his chest, the leather of his clothing sticking eagerly to your sweaty skin. No one said anything for a few minutes, his fingers dancing along your spine, tracing the outline of the bite on your shoulder and earning a small whimper, which he chuckled at. Things were strangely blissful.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna need another fifteen minutes, boss." you sighed eventually, snuggling your face against the smooth leather of his vest and breathing in the smell of violence and sex.

"You can have ten." he responded, drawing a look from you until the hand that had been kneading away at your ass cheek slipped down further, rough fingers teasing at your abused entrance once more, pushing what was leaking out of you back inside.

"Oh? And what happens then?" you asked, trying hard to keep your hips still against his sinful hand and failing.

"Then we're going again."

[forthechubbies]

Our Little Wife

~Princess Under House arrest~ Vol. VI

Mafia BTS x Chubby Wife Reader

Being Korea's deadliest kingpins made seven men into untouchable demons, yet their little wife is made out of sugar and spice?

⚠️Um? Yoongi is a warning on his own as well as (bad boy gone wrong) Jungkook. Hot makeout scene w/ long haired drunken yoongi🥵, Jin's a sweetheart beyond sweethearts, Vulgar Language, Manhandling, and Jungkook is a sexy hot head so watch out!☺

<- Sex Sells. V

Your nightgown caught your foot as you rushed to your vanity. You've been cleaned, patched, polish and pampered.

You looked beautiful, a barefaced beauty. A healthy glow to your skin, volume and fullness in your hair-gently brushing your fingers over your face you discovered your nails were fully manicured.

"What's going on?" You lifted your nightgown to find the same result, your toes matched your nails.

All was flawless beside the ache in your wrist, the only thing not tended too, grazing your fingers ghosted over the sore skin-

You hissed with an "Ouch." squeaking out of you.

The sight of Jimin, the very last person you laid eyes on, sent shivers down your spine. Memories came rushing back, overwhelming you with a flood of emotions. The cruel and heartless actions of your once beloved husband twisted your stomach into knots, leaving you feeling utterly disgusted.

Even more so, you shared concern for him, However you do believe that He got what he deserved before you passed out.

But the memories only caused more confusion. Why are you back home? the men knew Jimin? and that man who grabbed you. His eyes...they looked like Kookie's.

To yours and my surprise, One of your French doors was unlocked, You shivered at the numbing temperature and aura of the house, scrolling down the corridor, The wholesome family pictures successfully made you feel like a bit better.

"Kitten?" The echo of a deep male purr startled, Yoongi stood at arm's length he looked sloppy..his clothes were hanging of his figure, hair overgrown into a tousled bun dangling off his broad shoulders.

"Is this finally you? My kitten." He reeks of whiskey. Yoongi calluses grip your jaw bringing your face to his, You grip his button up to keep balance on your tippy toes. "Or I'm finally dying for alcohol poisoning and you're an angel sent to ease my pain as I pass on."

Speechless you stared into Yoongi's heated face to see a long open wound slashed down his right eye, the dried blood still staining his crimison cheek. "If so, Could you pity me a kiss for a heartbroken man." His voice deeply rumbled as he whispered to you before planting his lips on yours.

You gasped. "Yoongi-" ghosting your fingers around his eyes. "You're eye."

Yoongi's large hands ♡ swallowed your chubby waist tugging all of your weight on him. The Innocent kiss turned course following Yoongi's lead as he worked his tongue.

"Mm!" You squeaked against his lips.

His tongue tricks distracted you from those busy hands of his stroking up the curves of your nightgown. You found yourself sandwich between the wall and Yoongi not that you mind-

"Ya! You better not puke on my carpet again, Min Yoongi! Or I'm settling for a divorce." Jin cried, you can't see him but you could imagine the blood rushing to his ears. "Yoongi, if you feeling sick dead outside-" Jin's eyes meeting yours.

Jin's eyes grew three sizes. "Yoongi! You're being too rough-" A harsh shove knocked the wobbly drunken man to the wooden floor where he happily retired. "My princess, Are you hurt? Any of those scratches stinging." He checked you frequently.

Jin quickly settled down placing his large hands on your shoulders, his sorrowful eyes roamed down your nightgown. "Namjoon was right...I should have kept the door locked." He mumbled, the last part before freezing at the loud sound of his husbands coming home so soon..too soon.

In the panic of heavy boots headed up the main staircase, Jin shoved you through your door frame, repeatedly cooing apologies at you as you fell flat on your bum. " I'm so sorry, Daddy loves his princess." You hardly heard him over the door closing with a click. He locked it.

"Is she up yet?" Kookie...

You kept your ear to door.

"No,-" Jin lied. " She's still asleep." You could hear his knuckles whiting from his intense grip on the french door's golden handles.

"What?! It's been three days?! Aren't you fucking concerned-at all!?" Jungkook's satori boomed, startling you on the other side.

You never heard kookie raise his voice maliciously to anyone especially his older spouses.

Jin's temper boiled over much like your bunny's. A loud thump was heard through the wood then a pregnant silence. Jin disciplined Jungkook upside his head.

"How dare you speak to you like I'm one of those punks you beat up, You feral mutt-!"

In seconds, The tip of Jungkook's nose tap Jin's as a horrifying fire burned Kookie's eyes. "What the actual fuck did you just call me?!"

A sudden adrupt shove against the doors sent you hurling into your fluffy carpet once more as fatal squeak falls from your lips. As soon as the cute sound left your mouth, Jungkook released his assault on Jin's collar.

The silence between the two men was deafening til Jungkook broke it with a small whimper. "Creampuff?! Are you alright?!" Jungkook ripped Jin away from your door, swinging opening them open to find you, his startled Creampuff grasping on your nightgown for dear life.

My goodness. You gasped. Nevermind the fact, He completely broken the lock on the doors effortlessly. I don't even think it he realized yet.

Jungkook stood tall before your dumbfounded face, You can admit it's been sometime since you seen your husbands but these dramatic difference in appearance are not for the faint hearted, to yoongi new scar and long hair to Jungkook's entire existence at this point.

He too has quit cutting his hair leaving his to fall to his shoulders , mainly hiding a good some of his face and yet the little droplets shimmering off his tips enchanted you.

It must be raining horribly upon how drained he is.

Jungkook's heavy muggy boots destroyed your ivory carpet as he slowly walked towards your shaken figure in awe. "It's really you?" He breathed, dropping his knees on either sides of your thighs, leaning closer in your face. "It is you."

Your eyes can't stand to look away from the new tattoos decorating the left side of his neck, beautifully paired with the two addictions piercing his lip and eyebrow.

Is this your kookie?

[thebigbadbatswife]

Day 28 - Body Worship

Pairing - Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Warnings - 18+ content, if you're under 18 leave immediately! Body worship, emotional hurt/comfort.

Summary - A brutal night on patrol sends Bruce straight into your arms.

When Bruce stopped by your apartment after patrol, he was usually silent. His steps light and in his mind he had mapped out where each creaky floorboard was. Easily avoiding them as he made his way to your bedroom where he would slip into the bathroom, stripping himself of his suit so he could have a quick shower before joining you in bed. All so that he didn’t disturb your sleep and you could happily wake up in his arms in the morning.

Tonight was completely different.

Instead of entering your apartment quietly, he practically fell through the window, knocking over the small table that sat next to it. The resulting bang from the table hitting the floor jolted you from the light sleep you had fallen into on the couch, having falling asleep while watching a movie. 

“What the hell?” 

Other than the glow from the tv, your apartment was cast in darkness. The black of the batsuit made him blend in effortlessly and made it hard for you to make him out properly. But you were sure it was him.

“Bruce?”

You were immediately on your feet and by his side, where he was kneeling on the floor, in a matter of seconds, hitting the light switch on your way so that you could see him better. You started checking him over, looking for tears in his suit and blood from any new injuries. You silently hoped that he would be untouched tonight. When you found no blood or tears within the suit, you reached for his cowl, carefully taking it off of him. You were one of the very few people in the world able to do so. Anyone else would receive a very nasty shock. 

You cupped his face and got him to look at you. There was a wild look in his eyes, something akin to what a cornered animal might have, and his breath was coming out hard and fast. Like he was on the brink of a full blown panic attack. Moving forward, you rested your forehead against his and wrapped your arms around him. Bruce’s arms circled your waist and he pulled you closer to him. You spoke to him softly, reminding him that he was somewhere safe and helping him slow down his breathing.

“What happened?” you asked.

He swallowed thickly, staying silent for a moment. When it came to things like his emotions and the things he saw on patrol, he struggled with his words. “There was a woman,” he started, swallowing thickly again, his brow creasing as he played it through his mind again. “I wasn’t fast enough. I couldn’t save her. I… I had to make sure that you… I can’t lose you.”

His words were failing him, but you understood. You held him tighter, getting him to rest some of his weight against you wich he had been refusing to do until now. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath as he inhaled your scent, trying to ground himself.

 “I’m here, Bruce. I’m okay. I know you would never let anything happen to me.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp slightly. He liked it when you did that. You had discovered early on into your relationship that it soothed him a lot. You moved your hands down his chest, over the symbol on his chest as you searched for the various straps and buckles that held his suit together. His chest plate fell and hit the floor. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his jawline.

“I’m here,” you whispered again as you continued removing his suit. You kissed the scars littering his torso as you exposed more and more of his skin. All of them from various gun and knife fights he had survived while trying to clean Gotham up of crime. There were times you had caught him in your bathroom, trying to stitch them up and doing a terrible job of it, all because he hadn’t wanted to wake you.

You pushed him back so that he was leaning against up against the wall. You continued kissing the scars and bruises that littered his body. He squeezed your hips softly as your mouth wrapped around his nipple, toying with the bud with your tongue.

“Sweetheart,” he groaned, the grip on your hips tightening, but not too much because he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Shhh, let me take care of you for tonight. Please Bruce?” 

You didn’t go out there with him. You didn’t see the things that he saw night in, night out. But you could see the things that it was doing to him. That look of grief in his eyes. The weight of the world on his shoulders with no one to share the burden with. You were here though. You wanted to take that weight from him. Even if it was just for a few hours. Gotham couldn’t appreciate or thank him for the things that he did for them. Not like you could.

He looked at you for a moment, you could see the gears turning in his brain, before he finally leaned in and kissed you. “Okay.”

You only had one plan for tonight and that was to worship his body like he was deity. Giving him all of your love and devotion and showing him how much that he, and everything he did for you, meant to you.

[specialagentlokitty]

Master chief x reader - my blood, your blood

Part 3:

You stayed there for a few hours like that, every time John began to speak you shut him down immediately.

Getting up, you jumped down from where you had been laid, and you stuffed your hands in your pockets as you began to leave.

John got up to follow you.

“Don’t even fucking think about it or I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“I’ll stay for however long it takes.”

“I don’t care, just stay away from me.”

You walked away, not even bothering to look back at him, but you knew him, you knew he wasn’t going to leave you alone, and you knew he was going to stay in the city.

So you avoided it for a few days, you didn’t have to go back for anything yet, so you stayed at your home, just doing some small repairs.

John had set up his own camp in a sturdy looking building, but it didn’t do anything for the need for food.

You had already had time to go through the place and take what you wanted, so after a few hours of searching he gave up.

He was debating hunting, but he didn’t know much about that, and he didn’t know anything about the animals on this planet whereas you did.

You had been here for years, you would’ve had time to learn the ins and outs of this place.

You had been away for nearly a week, he was living off whatever rations he could find in the ship, but he was running dangerously low.

Finally you made your way back to the city, and he watched you from where he was poking through a few shops looking around.

You tossed a bag at him, and stuffed your hands back in your pocket.

“Can’t have you rotting up the city and attracting attention.”

John picked up the bag, and he looked inside of it.

“Thank you.”

He set the bag down, and he went through his pockets, pulling out a vile, and he held it out to you.

You narrowed your eyes a little bit.

“I don’t know if it would work, but Halsey mentioned there was a cure to whatever she made me do. Miranda gave it to me.”

You gestured to the window and he set it carefully on the window ledge, taking his bag and he took a few steps back.

You held your knife carefully as you walked closer, and you picked it up, carefully inspecting it.

Putting it in your pocket you left again, heading towards the hospital where you could find the equipment you needed to check it.

All you had to do was draw some blood, put a drop of the substance on it and see what happened, and that’s what you did.

You carefully did a few tests with what you had, and when you deemed it was safe to drink, you did.

You weren’t sure how long you had to wait for the results, so you had to keep checking.

Walking over to a gap in the wall, you grabbed the scope you kept in your pocket and used it to look around, finding John was still here you had left him.

He was looking up at you, and he didn’t seem to bothered by the fact you were watching him, so you put it back and walked down the chunk of the wall that led to the ground.

Jumping down, you walked over and stopped next to him.

“You should seek higher ground, it’s flood season.”

With that, you left again, making your way back to your cabin.

A few hours later rain began hitting the roof, and you laid next to your fireplace, blanket over you to try and conserve heat.

When you woke up, it was sunny again, and you made your way back down to the city.

A lot of the streets were flooded, in some places the water came up to your knees, it made you wondered why they thought this would be a good place to build a city.

You trudged through the way, and you walked over to one of the barrels scattered around.

Nodding your head, you set the empty jugs down, and you began to fill them up.

You heard a splash, and the sound of somebody walked through the water, and you turned around to see John walking forward.

“Just leave. Most of the city will be flooded by the end of the week.”

“I’m not going anywhere until we talk. I saw visions, when I was a boy. I saw a happy family, and I saw Halsey there as well. I know she took us all away from our families.”

You stopped what you were doing and you turned around to look at him.

“I know what they did, you know too. That’s why you were so angry right? The reason why you were always furious with them all?”

You nodded your head.

“Why could you remember but I couldn’t?”

“Because of my species Halsey couldn’t erase all my memory like she did with you, she wanted me to remember what I could do, and she wanted to see if she could transplant my blood into somebody else and if they would be able to do the same thing. They wanted to turn me into a weapon.”

“But you were part of the Spartan programme.”

“They wanted to make me stronger than anything else.”

He nodded his head, and you went back to filling up the water jugs, setting one aside so you could take another one.

“How did you remember?” You asked.

John took one of the empty jugs, walking over to another barrel so that one could be filled with water as well.

“I touched an artefact, I had a vision, and I kept having it. It wasn’t a vision, it was a memory.”

You nodded, and you stood up, putting the kids back on the jugs, tying them together and you picked them all up.

“They’re going to try and silence you.”

“Why?”

“Because they won’t want to admit to anybody else what they had done, that’s why there’s no records about it. There’s nothing on the Spartan project, because they’re trying to keep it covered up.”

“What about you?”

You stopped walking, turning around to look at him.

“People know about me, people know what I can do, they want me dead. The only reason I wasn’t killed is because Halsey was using me as her little pet project.”

You carried on walking, and John walked alongside of of you.

“What do you know about the Spartan project?”

“A lot more than people think. Just because of my attitude they thought I wasn’t listening, but I was.”

You stopped by the building John was using as his own home, and you turned around to fully look at him.

“I’ve told you what you wanted, now leave me alone. If you come back I will kill you this time John, make no mistake about that, I will do it without hesitation.”

“I’ll go when I know if the cure worked. Miranda said it will take a few days.”

“Fine. I’ll come back in a few days if it worked or not. Then you leave.”

You left again, and for the next few days you kept trying your power.

It didn’t take long for the cure to work, and though you weren’t as strong as what you were, it was progress at least.

So you went back to John, blood sword in your hand, and you pointed it at his chest.

He stood there, not moving, hands raised slightly.

“Now leave me alone. I was never part of your team, don’t start treating me like one now.”

“Okay, I’ll go.”

You escorted him back to his shop, and you watched as he stood on the ramp, looking down at you.

“Thank you.”

With that, he left, and you went back to your peace, practicing your fighting everyday, getting stronger and stronger so if they did come back you were ready.

You weren’t afraid to hurt anybody for your freedom, and if that meant you had to kill the marines they sent, if you had to kill the Spartans, you would.

They knew that.

Your planet was one of their next missions, and he quickly stood up.

“(Y/N) will kill anybody that steps foot there.”

“The Coventry are after something on this planet, you’re to find it, keep it safe until we can retrieve it. I do not care what (Y/N) thinks, and if they intervene you arrest them. Am I understood?”

“You don’t understand (Y/N) can take over other people’s bodies, they will kill every marine you send there.” He argued.

“You are going on this mission, you are taking the marines with you.” The admiral warned.

John clenched his jaw slightly.

You just wanted your peace, and he had a feeling this mission was more than whatever was on your planet, there was some other reason they were being sent there.

If you saw them you would attack, and while the Spartans stood a chance, the marines didn’t.

It was only a few weeks after he previously left that he returned to your planet, and there was no sign of you where they were.

He made his way to the city, hoping to find you there and maybe talk it out with you before anything happened.

“(Y/N)?!” He called.

John stood in the middle of the city where you frequently went, and he looked around, calling out your name once more.

He felt a tight pain in his chest, and he placed his hand over it as he dropped to his knees.

“Wait! I’m here to tell you the Coventry are coming!”

The pain lessened slightly, but he was still being held down.

“There’s a Coventry artefact here in your planet, a team has been deployed to try and retrieve it before the Coventry get it. Do you know where it is? I swear we’ll leave right after.”

“You swore you wouldn’t come back.”

“I tried to tell them but they wouldn’t listen. You need to leave before the Coventry come, you know what they’ll do to this planet.”

You didn’t reply.

“If you know where the artefact is tell me where to find it, I’ll take you somewhere else.”

A map was tossed in front of him, and he could see where you had circled.

“I found it months ago. Take it and leave.”

You released your hold on him, not before opening a series of small but painful cuts along his skin as a warning.

“Let me take you somewhere safe.”

John waited for a reply but he never got one, he tried to scan the area but he couldn’t find you.

Grabbing the map, he made his way back to the others and handed it over, and he began to escort them to the location, because no doubt you were waiting, you were waiting.

There was a sense of unease among everybody know that not only were the Coventry going to be on their way, but you were around somewhere, and you had no qualms about hurting them.

John was looking for any indication that you were nearby, or where you would be hiding, because he needed to get you off this planet as well

[yrsdf]

Do you happen to be taking requests at the moment? if so, could we have Highschool Charlie x Y/n (no smut!) just Charlie being a bully while also having secret feelings for Y/n, but Y/n just plainly doesn't like him cuz of his poor treatment of them

The Bully

charlie dompler

school was usually an escape for most, but for you it was dreadful, you took extra long in the mornings getting ready contemplating whether to even go or not, but you sighed and got dressed. you packed your back pack with your homework and laptop you double checked your outfit and grabbed your car keys heading out of your room and parents home. you pressed the unlock button and opened your car door getting in and heading to school. as you approached the building you parked in your usual spot and got out of your car slinging your bag over your shoulder. you walked toward the school and got in by scanning your school ID.

you walked through the crowded hall and accidentally bumped into someone without paying attention, you looks up and connected eyes with a [pissed off] charlie dompler. you mentally winced at the fact youd bumped into him

"Im sorry charlie - i didnt see you there. wont happen again" you said truthfully, his angered eyes scanned your face momentarily before he scoffed, he adjusted his backpacks strap "i knew you had bird brain but seriously man - you cant be that dumb bumping into me" he said with a harsh tone that made a small frown appear across your face. "next time use your eyes - seems your brain hardly seems to work. y'know because you couldnt sense me coming." you were tempted to clap back a response but you sighed in defeat, which elicited a smile from his stupid face. you quickly apologized once more before hurrying off to class.

the day went on like everyother day until 8th period came around, you heard that charlies friend veronica was going to jump you, you kept a cool appearance acting as if you didnt hear a single word, you convinced yourself it was some sick prank or silly rumor.. the bell rang. you scurried out of class and made your way through jammed halls and out of the school to your car, before you could even reach your car you heard her "dont even think about getting in that car bitch." you turned to face her fuming face, you audibly gulped. "im sure you have the wrong person v..?" she scoffed before approaching you "i heard you degraded charlie this morning? you know i dont fuck with that." you went to speak but that resulted in a unexpected fist lodged in your nose. you stumbled back holding your nose, blood flowed between your finger tips and down your wrist. "i swear v! i didn-" her foot collided with your right rib cage resulting in a omph noise rising from your mouth, here you were getting beaten down with your back against your own car all over a stupid rumo-

"veronica??! what the hell man - dude.." charlie moved her and his eyes peered down at you, they widened at the gruesome look of your physical state "veronica seriously man - what the actual hell ran through your head when you did this?" she looked at him with guilt as they both fought it out you attempted to pull yourself up using your car door handle, you didnt notice her storm off until you felt a hand helping you up. "you seriously sat and took this beatdown? - are you stupid or something? i mean you have to be dumb taking this much damage with no retaliation" you saw pity in his exspression, you didnt care of his attempt at feelings. you pushed his touch away using your sleeve to rub the blood from under your nose "if this is your attempt at being nice charlie its not working, and stop getting your friends on me... im tired of playing punching bag."

you didn’t know but he felt a pain in his chest knowing there were fights you lost that he couldn't break up in time. his eyes scanned your broken face and you saw a sympathetic frown cross his face, you sighed at this and grabbed your keys from the floor unlocking your car that was behind your back. "listen man - ..im sorry alright? i helped you up and she left i mean - what more can i do?" you rolled your eyes seeing as he assumed common decency was a way to your heart. you saw a self centered smile cross his face which was actually a attempt at genuiness and you scoffed your eyes rolling as you grabbed your car door handle “fuck you charlie." you got into your car and started it, you took no time leaving him in the dust.

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[alotofpockets]

Your own stunts | Florence Pugh

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Reader

Prompt: “You can’t scare me like that, okay?”

Warnings: staged fight scenes, injury, stunt gone wrong.

masterlist | marvel masterlist | Words: 1038

You loved doing your own stunts, to the extent you were able to of course. And next to your own abilities, there was the limit that was allowed by your agency and the set. Something about the adrenaline you felt while flying through the air and doing all these cool tricks, was so amazing. You loved it when you got to portray characters that were a bit more on the rough side, just so you could do all the fun stunts.

Today you were on set filming the big fight scene of the new movie you were working on. You played a character with superpowers, as did your costar who played the enemy, safe to say it was going to be an epic fight. The two of you had practiced this scene about a thousand times, along with the choreographers, stunt team, stunt doubles and the directors. Everything had to be executed well in order for the fight to work. 

Your girlfriend Florence came to visit you on set, she was excited to see the scene you've been talking about for months and have practicing in the living room come to life. "5 minutes" was announced over the speakers, that was your queue to make your way to your mark. "I love you, Flo, thank you for being here today." You said before giving her a quick kiss. "I love you too, darling. You're going to do amazing."

The day started with filming the hand-to-hand ground fight, it was all going well. You had to shoot the same scene a couple of times, making sure to get all the angles that were needed. About an hour later you had a face full of fake blood, and the make-up team had also made your hands look like they’re been punching someone for real. The floor part of the fight was all done, meaning you could move on to the fun stuff.

The crew helped you and your costar into your harnesses, and you were ready for the next part. The part that involved you and your costar to throw each other around the room and what not. It was all going great until you got stuck on one of the stunts, shooting it over and over again because it didn’t look right. Your coworker had to throw you into a wall, but the ropes made it so you would be pulled back too soon to hit the wall. They decided to slowly give the ropes more slack, so you’d move back more, actually hitting the wall.

It worked, you managed to get closer to the wall each time, but it still wasn’t enough. The team gave the rope some more slack, and you got ready to be thrown again. This time you managed to hit the wall, but way harder than you were supposed to. There was too much slack in the line, which made you actually slam into the wall. Your back collided with the wall and your vision went dark for a moment. Feeling your body slide down the wall in slow motion and landing on the floor with a thud regained you your vision.

Everyone was by your side in seconds, they were all very worried for your safety. “I’m okay.” You said with a small voice, your breathing not yet back to normal. “I’m not taking any chances, we’re going to let you get checked out at the hospital. That was a hard hit and you look a bit pale. The stunt director helped you up and right away Florence was on your other side. Together they walked you over to the car. The director called it a day and told everyone to get some rest, and then followed you to the hospital.

They did all kinds of checks at the hospital, they made you follow a light and took some CT-scans of your back, making sure everything looked normal. Florence was sitting by your side holding your hand, while waiting for the results. The director and the stunt director sat on the other side of your room, you had told them to sit after they continuously apologized for what happened. It wasn’t their fault, they were being cautious and not giving too much slack, you encouraged them to add more.

When your doctor walked in they all stood up to hear the news. “Your scans are all clean, y/n. You’re free to go home.” Everyone was relieved, but no one was as relieved as Florence, who hugged you tighter than she ever has. “You can’t scare me like that, okay?” She whispered in your ear, not yet ready to let go. “I promise.”

After a couple days of rest, you got back onto set, ready to start filming again. Florence joined you again, because she was scared you were going to get hurt again, even though you promised that you were going to be more careful. When you came in everyone came over to hug you and ask you how you were doing, happy to have you back on set again. After your fair share of greetings you walked up to the director, “Can I see what happened?” He knew you were referring to the moment you hit the wall and asked for the scene to be pulled up. No one had watched it back yet, feeling like it was disrespectful in a way.

The scene played, you flinched at the moment you hit the wall and you see your own eyes glass over. It was kind of scary seeing it happen second hand. You ask to watch it again, now that it will be slightly less shocking to see. “You know, this is probably the best shot we took of the fall. Can’t we just use this? It looks super realistic.” The director laughs, “Are you forgetting that it looks realistic because it actually happened?” You share a short laugh with him, “Yeah, I know. I’m serious though, can we use this?” He considers it for a moment. “I’m going to have to talk to legal about this first, but I’ll let you know. Now let’s move on to some less intense scenes and we can get back to this one later on.”

~

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[cultofdixon]

Handle with Care

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Witnessing something as scary as that…regardless of your feelings from before…you’ll need to be more gentle • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Missionary / Hickeys / Grinding • TW: Violence / Anxiety / Minor Injuries

Requested by: Anon

I’ve witnessed a lot of stuff in my life…but this? Oh fuck me

It was a routine run for Alexandria. The two were asked to take a care and try and find anything in near by outdoor shopping centers…when they got in a bit of a pickle.

Y/N was going through one of the stores by herself checking for the usuals when a squatter came out of nowhere and instantly grabbed her. Resulting in her screaming out of initial contact. Thankfully her scream echoed into the next store over where Daryl was, and hearing such made him curse to himself knowing it was a bad idea to separate as he immediately made his way over to her.

The moment Daryl entered the store, he readied his crossbow to take the stranger out. But they were already pinning Y/N to the ground and the way the two were wrestling each other, the shot wasn’t clear. Which led him to drop his crossbow in a hurry and rush over to grab the person by the back of their shirt, practically tossing him into an isle away.

“Y/N are you—“ Daryl stopped himself when he noticed the cut on her cheek and the discarded knife that belonged to the stranger. He was seeing red.

Y/N was a bit taken back already by what happened to her, that when she noticed the stranger start to get up again she retracted and Daryl immediately threw a few punches at the stranger. But it didn’t stop. It was starting to become…a horror movie with the amount of blood that ended up on Daryl’s person.

I should’ve been with her

This never would’ve happened —-it’s just a cut

So much shit has happened, I can’t let anything more happen to her

I won’t let anything happen to her—-even if—

“Daryl!” Her voice cut though his thoughts as he realized that the stranger was dead and on his hands.

The archer dropped the corpse and pulled himself away. He checked his person seeing all the blood and only the worse was brought to his mind. I’m scaring her. Daryl frowns looking over to Y/N after his moment away in his own mind noticing the bit of a shock written on her face. It was a bit unreadable hence why his interpretation was that she feared him in that very moment.

But boy was he wrong.

That was hot—-he literally killed somebody

That shouldn’t have been so fucking hot—-RIGHT

Goddamn it—-HES LOOKING AT YOU

Y/N quickly met his worried expression as she scrambled a bit, only enough to press her back against a few shelves taking a deep breath.

“Uh. You’ve got uh” she gestured to herself where she implied the blood on Daryl’s person.

“Right…yeah uh. Imma clean up before I clean that up to see if it needs stitches” He did the same she did, pointing to his cheek indicating her injury as she completely forgot about it.

“Oh uh I got—-“

“Just to double check. Let me uh. Get somethin’” Daryl left for a brief moment to clean himself up.

Leaving Y/N to audibly exhale, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks when she recalls what she witnessed and what she thought about such. She quickly hid her face in her hands, only to wince to the cut.

“It’ll need stitches. But are you feeling alright? Your face is flushed” Denise asks as she finished cleaning up Y/N’s cut while she was in her own little world. “Y/N?”

Y/N still lost in her train of thought didn’t hear Denise and was immediately snapped out of it when the door to the infirmary opened revealing Daryl.

“How bad is it?”

“Just needs a few stitches but I’m afraid of a head injury if she’s not answering my questions”

As the archer bring himself close resulting in Y/N retracting a bit. Daryl frowns stopping himself.

“Y/N?”

“Yes. Sorry. I heard her. Just. Got lost in my…” Y/N quickly looked into Daryl’s worry filled gaze and covered her face in her hands when her face flushed again. But of course she winced again from the minor pain. “Thoughts” she pulls her hands away turning away from Daryl to give Denise the access she needs to her wound.

“Right…well I’ve got this, Daryl.” Denise reassures. “Won’t take us long”

“Alright. Well, uh. Y/N come find me later?”

But she never did. Y/N started avoiding Daryl because she didn’t want to say how what he did make her feel. Since it was more than a bit of a sexual awakening toward the archer. Something more rooted got pulled out of her that she simply didn’t want to address right away.

Which led Daryl continuing to think the worse.

“Hey, come on a run with me and Glenn”

“Sorry—“ Y/N ran into the door to the Grimes’ residence as she quickly scrambled for the handle. “Watching Jude. Next time?” She asks and didn’t wait for a response as she quickly enters the house.

Even Glenn thought that was a bit weird. But didn’t question it until the two were alone scavenging through an empty neighborhood.

“Did you do something to Y/N?”

“No, I did somethin’ in front of her” Daryl says without thinking as Glenn gave him a confused almost frightened look without being given context right away. “Nothin’…well. I don’t know what’s goin’ on in yer head! I killed somebody in front of ‘er and I scared her”

“So you’ve been trying to talk to her about it?”

“Not even. Or just not yet. I’ve been tryin’ to just…be with her. I don’t know what to do” Daryl sighs following Glenn into a house and doing the usual rummage through.

“You think she’s triggered from the wolves attack? And that you just. Triggered an unpleasant memory? Cuz from what I’ve been told about that invasion, they would kill everyone on sight”

“Shit…So I could’ve hurt her further?” Daryl frowns, only to go into instant annoyance when Glenn shrugs. “You’re very helpful”

“I have a lot on my mind too, man.” Glenn opened a cabinet seeing if there was anything useful. “I would just talk to her. Not exactly corner her but at least somewhere where she feels safe”

The two returned home and Daryl knew Y/N was at the Grimes’s residence last, but when he checked and Carl noticed the archer walking past his open door.

“Dad relieved her of Jude a while ago. Should be back in Carol’s” of course he knows who Daryl was there for.

“Thanks kid”

“Yknow” Carl almost yelled out to get Daryl to stay a second. “I overheard her and Michonne talking. About you”

Daryl brought himself to the doorframe giving the young Grimes a confused look.

“Nothing sound bad if that’s what you’ve been worried about”

“Who says I was worried?”

“Y/N.” Carl sits back in his bed reading his comic book the best he could. “About her obviously. But since you’re already on your way to talk to her, you can get more out of her”

Y/N was in her room in Carol’s reading one of the many books that Daryl has found for her ever since he started doing runs at Alexandria. She was still thinking about that day and not in the way that you’d think of course. She heard the softest knock on the door and looked at her for a moment knowing she was only wearing a bralette and shorts.

Daryl waited for a while thinking she was ignoring him and was about to step away when she quickly opened the door fixing her shirt to finish covering herself. “Hey…you got a second?”

“Mhm. Yeah, come in” Y/N closes the door behind him. “What was it you—-“

“Are you afraid of me?”

“What?”

“Are—-“ Daryl sighs, sitting on the edge of her bed as she remains in front of him crossing her arms giving him a concerned look. “Are you afraid of me after what happened in the store the other day? I lost control…yeah but I’d never—“

“I know you’d never hurt me” Y/N finished for him, bringing herself to sit beside him gripping her knees. “I just. Didn’t know what to say what I really felt there. Because it was like… a bit inappropriate but also not?”

“You lost me there…” He laughs a bit as Y/N tried her best not to just blurt it out. So she tip toed around it…until he connected it for himself.

“Uhhhhh….it was kinda…alarming, yes. And…also hot?”

“Hot?”

“It was just. At first really scary how you let go on this guy…but then remembering you were defending me, just. Me!” Y/N laughs a bit to herself feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “I just. Mm…never had someone that protective over me. It was nice…a lot more than nice but the words are kinda trapped in me a bit”

“I get that” Daryl assures her. “The words don’t always wanna leave” he subconsciously rubs his knee against hers as he brought his full attention to her. “I was really afraid that I scared yea away”

“You could never scare me away, D. What you did…only made me want you more” and that deceleration led a small moment of no words exchanged between the two…

Then Daryl suddenly presses his lips against hers as she instantly grabbed at his shirt for purchase. Y/N tugged at him gently bringing her back agaisnt the mattress as he followed suit carefully towering her on her bed. The first few kisses was soft and gentle, making sure the other wanted what the other wanted…once it was confirmed, Daryl didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss as he used his legs to get in between hers as she didn’t hesitate to wrap hers around his torso lowering himself on her. Y/N carefully pushed him back parting the two so she could catch her breath.

“Wow…that uh escalated”

“Yea want me to stop?” Daryl smirks panting a bit himself.

“Fuck no” Y/N brought his face into her hands admiring the man on top of her for a moment before returning her lips on his.

When he pulled away once more, Daryl looked at her flushed state knowing he wants to go further and with the lustful look in her hooded gaze…she wants to as well…and before his mind could return to that doubtful state, he flinched at first contact of her soft hands before easing into her palms.

“If you’re not ready, it’s okay. We can take it as slow as you want” She reassures as he brought himself into her embrace kissing her once more.

“I want you, I’ve always wanted you” Daryl whispers pressing his forehead against hers, feeling her hands gently run through his hair and softly brush against the back of his neck. “I’m done waiting, sunshine”

As the archer brought his lips back to hers for a few kisses, soon bringing his lips to her cheek…being careful with the bandaged one before trailing his kisses down to her jawline and sucking a bit to leave his mark that only started the trail of hickeys from under her chin to her neck and a little bit of her collar bone that he gained access from pulling the collar of her shirt down a bit. Said action led her to push him off a second, suddenly flipping the two as he was left a bit disoriented from how quickly she did such. But didn’t care when Y/N brought her shirt over her head.

“Holy shit…” Daryl exhaled watching Y/N’s blush take over her face. “Can…Can I?” He sat up resting his hands on her hips gesturing with his eyes to her breasts and back to her beautiful E/C eyes.

“Touch me, baby” She relaxed against his touch when his finger tips gently graze her skin from the end of her bralette bringing them underneath such.

The archer was ever so gentle at first with bringing her sensitive bud in between in his fingers. Tugging and pinching enough to draw out the beautiful sounds from her. He pulls his hand away before using both to take her bra off. He found himself staring for a brief moment, admiring really as he brought himself close pressing kisses along her sternum feeling her hands on the back of his neck playing with his hair.

Y/N arched her back slightly when Daryl toyed with her nipple bringing it in between his lips. Sucking gently before biting the sensitive bud drawing out more moans out of her as it was already exciting him, just making it more noticeable. She could feel him getting excited as she didn’t think and just did—by grinding against him listening to his own music while he sucked on the soft pillowy skin of her breasts while returning his hands to her hips guiding her against him.

“Fuck—-Dar” She felt the warmth grow at her core as she struggled to get what she wanted out. Daryl pulled himself back a bit looking up at her bringing his hands to caress the small of her back.

“Tell me what yea want, sunshine” He almost says in a whisper but the way his voice just instantly drew chills down her back when he spoke.

“More. Please god give me more”

Daryl tried to bite back a smirk as he quickly brought her on her back, bringing himself down to her core glancing for any negative signs before getting started with removing the last of her clothing. Tossing her shorts and panties along with the rest of her clothing as he started to feel a bit over dressed. As he was quick to rid himself of his vest he was hesitant with his shirt, Y/N knowing exactly why as she brought herself to sit up after removing her legs from around his torso. She carefully brought her hands onto his face giving him a quick kiss.

“You don’t have to take your shirt off if you’re not comfortable” Y/N reassures with that loving smile of hers that he’d always take into memory every chance he saw it. “I’m okay being the only completely naked individual” she continued to smile when Daryl scoffed at first to such before giving a short lived chuckle.

“I trust you” Daryl says softly returning his lips to hers as the two went from desperately needing the other to more of a tender moment with Y/N starting to pull his shirt over his head taking in the scars she first noticed.

When she started to gently touch them, he flinched at first of course but she didn’t pry or continue when he did. Oh how this woman makes him feel so important and cared for just by her actions. The archer brought his lips to hers enjoying every second even more.

“I need you” Daryl whispers against her lips, as he shifted a bit to bring himself back above her. Sitting up to get his belt off along with his pants and as he did he remembered. “I…I don’t have a condom on me”

“Uh drawer in the nightstand”

“Always prepared for this moment or?” Daryl smirks as he leans to grab it while Y/N hides the blush that grew darker on her cheeks when he said such.

“I would say yes, in the sense that I’ve always wanted this moment with you. But when I first moved in with Carol…it was in there” She exhaled a laugh, listening to Daryl’s escape him a second.

“Really shows what some of these people were before we came along” Daryl adds while he got his pants and briefs off before putting the condom on.

The archer brought himself back in between her legs aligning his cock at her entrance keeping an eye on any change in her expression when he slowly entered her. Y/N tried her best not to be too loud but she couldn’t control herself when she felt how big he was.

“Fuck—-“ Daryl was fully inside of her feeling her squirm beneath him as he leaned over her a bit resting his hands on either side of her face. “God you’re tight. Warm—Shit” He groans letting them both adjust before he started to thrust, slow at first.

Y/N brought her legs back around his torso indicating in one way for him to go faster with also the look in her eyes of wanting more. He was happy to give, bringing his forearms against the bed brushing the hair out of her face and smiling at her. Then suddenly picking up the pace and pulling out the sweet sounding moans out from her, especially the cut short ones when he adjusted to get the perfect angle to hit her sweet spot.

“Daryl—-Baby—Oh god” She moans directly in his ear when he brought his face in the crook of her neck biting slightly to contain his own sounds. But god his sounds shot straight to her core.

They both drew close to climax, Y/N a bit sooner given the way her legs started to shake as Daryl brought one of his hands down to rub circles on her clit to get her there.

“Kiss me—-Please, baby” She begged as he happily obliged firmly pressing his to hers as her hands instantly went into his hair careful when she tugged as that drew out a moan from the archer on top of her. She’ll remember that for later.

Daryl couldn’t hold much longer especially with the way she squeezed around him when she climaxed. He tugged at her bottom lip in between his teeth, releasing as he pressed his forehead against hers bucking inside her a few more times. Giving one last thrust, groaning loud but was quick to shut himself down in case Carol was home. Something neither of them cared about until they were finished.

As he pulls out, Y/N exhales a bit of the exhaustion from her watching his every move as he was very gentle with her. Rubbing her legs as they tiredly rest against him.

“Want me to—“

“Stay” Y/N cut him off knowing where he’d go as Daryl pulls away to rid of the condom and get his boxers back on along with his shirt. “Daryl…”

“I ain’t leavin’. Let me take care of yea” He leans over kissing her once more before grabbing her shirt and shorts helping her back in her clothes.

Once he got her comfortable, Daryl was about to get up and leave for something he didn’t state yet…he wasn’t going to leave her, but her thoughts took her a moment.

“Just…lay with me, please?”

Daryl felt his smile break through even if the poorly lit room couldn’t pick it up well enough. He lifted the blanket, bringing himself right beside her and feeling her get close.

“I won’t be upset if you leave once I’ve fallen asleep…” The archer chuckled to her words.

“I’ll be right here when yea wake up, sunshine”

[i-didnt-do-1t]

“Don’t really think Death cares if someone’s got a big brother to fight him off Jack.”

To the anon who asked if I could write a Morris getting hurt fic, I have finally done it :) Enjoy, it’s a slightly longer one

“I mean we can’t just leave him here.”

Jack was silent for a second too long. Davey whacked his arm. “Jack.”

“Look, I ain’t saying we leave him here but whatever happened him he probably done something to deserve it.”

“Jack.”

“Don’t give me that look Dave, I ain’t a heartless bastard.”

He rolled his right shoulder and crouched down next to Morris, unconscious on the dusty cobble stone street, pressing two fingers to his neck, just to double check, just to make sure.

“He’s alive.”

“I never thought he wasn’t.” David said, and he could hear the accusation in his own voice, even if he knew it was unwarranted. “You’re telling me you thought he was dead? And you were going to leave him?”

“Christ Davey, I weren’t gonna leave nobody okay, we just-“ he stopped, moved around Morris’s body, tried to avoid stepping in the pool of blood that had formed- formed from somewhere. Some mystery injury that Davey couldn’t see yet but already had him more on edge than usual. He took his hat off his head and shoved a hand through his hair just for something to do so he wouldn’t start fidgeting. “We just needa get him somewhere that ain’t here. Dave, grab his legs okay? Or take his other arm an’ we can keep him upright.”

He put his hat back on his head.

“Are you sure we should be moving him?”

“No. But I ain’t sure what else to do, so stop complainin’ and grab his other arm.”

For once, David did as he was told without debate, grabbed Morris’s arm and hoisted him upward, pulling the dead weight limb over his shoulder. Jack did the same with his other side until he was in some approximation of standing, his entire body weight reliant on both of them, a little more tipped in Jack’s favour because Jack was stronger. (The arm wrestle they had which confirmed this was unbelievably embarrassing but the result of it was surprising to no one)

It was obvious now, as they pulled him up, where the pool of blood had come from if the stained red torso of Morris’s shirt was anything to go by. Suddenly, David could taste bile in the back of his throat.

“Shit.” He muttered and he made the active decision to not let his knees buckle. All at once Morris’s body felt ten times heavier. “Jack he’s been stabbed or something.”

“What?” Jack’s head jerked up from where he was adjusting Morris’s arm around his shoulder. “Fuck.” It was a low murmur. “Shit, okay. Do you know where he lives?”

“No? Near the distribution centre. right?” He paused. “Wait, shit, okay Les said they came from around the back of it, it can’t be far.”

Jack readjusted his grip on Morris again. David did the same.

“He’s not going to die right?”

“Course’ not.”

Jack was liar. But he wouldn’t now, surely, not about this.

“Right.” David breathed, “Of course not.”

(The thought sat heavy in the pit of his stomach anyway)

—

It took five minutes to reach the distribution gate, another two to decide which ramshackle apartment around the back belonged to the Delancey’s. Morris hadn’t woken up yet, not properly. Nothing more than a few groans when one of them moved a little too quickly, when one of them readjusted their grip on him a little too roughly. As bad as it might sound David took the noises of discomfort to be a good thing. A thing that meant he was still alive.

About halfway back David decided he couldn’t stare at the spot of shiny coppery blood on his stomach anymore, had made Jack stop just long enough so he could take off his jacket (it was cold mid November) and tie it tightly around Morris’s waist. At least maybe that could help stop the slow sluggish bleeding.

“Alright.” Jack said, a little out of breath. “This one I think. That’s Weasel’s hat in the kitchen window.”

Davey didn’t need to be told twice, he tightened his grip around Morris’s ribs, ignored the way his head lolled forward and the forming purple-blue bruise around his eye, and knocked as loudly as he could manage on the door.

It hadn’t occurred to him until now that no one might be home, or that Weasel himself might open the door.

One glance at Jack told him that he hasn’t thought about it either.

It was a given to both of them that Oscar would be there, that Oscar would help but now that they were here, there was no guarantee that he was even in the house.

And as much as David tried not to think about it, it had happened once before that the Delancey’s had shown up to work, Morris with a bruised cheek and Oscar with bruised knuckles and maybe Jack wasn’t the smartest guy around but he was smart enough to put that one together, and had mentioned it to David a few hours later.

It had only been once, but the memory made Davey’s shoulder’s tense a little, still, Blink had punched him once and he still knew the guy had his back. He couldn’t judge anything, and the Delancey’s were weird.

He banged harder on the door.

On the other hand he had actually seen Weasel backhand Morris at the counter one time, and the more he thought about it, the less comfortable he felt about the idea of leaving Morris here with Weasel if Oscar wasn’t in, even if he had just shrugged off the slap with a tensed jaw, an eye roll and practically threw the papers at David’s chest hard enough to make him stumble back.

But what were the other options? Bring him back to the lodging house? To David’s home-

“Christ Mo,” The voice from the other side of the door was oddly fond, slightly frustrated, familiar enough in the way that David had heard it on his own tongue before. “Just cause you forgot your goddamn key don’t mean you gotta take it out on the door-“

The front door was roughly yanked open. It took less than a second for Oscar’s face to morph from something somewhat neutral to a snarl as his eyes jumped from David to Morris. His gaze finally rounded on Jack.

“What the fuck did you do?”

“We ain’t done nothing, we found him alright?” He propped him up again. “You gotta sofa we can lie him on or something?”

He thinks Oscar would’ve fought him on it, if his second glance at Morris didn’t have his eyes darting to the jacket, tight around his waist, already stained through with red.

“Fucking hell.”

He didn’t ask before he shouldered Davey out of the way hard enough he stumbled back, and took his place, Morris’s arm around his shoulder and his own around his brother’s waist.

He led them into the house. David followed.

And David continued to follow when they turned off from the kitchen, Oscar kicking open the rickety wooden door that led to what he assumed was their bedroom.

He did his best not to look around. Did his best not to notice the lack of things anywhere but he was nosey by nature. Maybe it was because his house was filled with stuff, smoothed pieces of glass that Les found interesting and had decided collect, various doilies and sections of lace Sarah had hung up anywhere she could hang things, articles his father enjoyed and had cut out of newspapers, stacks of his mothers favourite books, piles of pages of David’s own writing. Every surface, every nook and cranny was covered with things- this house, not so dissimilar from David’s own- was empty. Blank. Like ghosts lived there instead of people.

“Bed to the right.” Oscar muttered, voice low.

Jack complied without a word, gently moving around the bed, careful in the way he lay Morris down on it.

There was blood soaked in to Jack’s shirt Davey realised, now that Morris wasn’t slumped against him, it was barely noticeable against the already red background, but deeper and smeared, making his shirt stick to him. David didn’t need to look down to his check his own, he could already feel it.

Oscar had his hands on Morris’s face, on his neck, on his chest, on his torso untying the jacket with an urgency that made David need to do something to help.

“What the fuck happened?” Oscar ground out as he grabbed a sheet from the end of the bed, (messy and unmade Davey noticed) and bundled it up in a ball, pressed it to the hole in Morris’s lower right stomach. He didn’t look at either of them.

It felt like an oddly intimate act to witness, the gentleness with which he brought a hand to Morris’s pale face and flushed cheeks.

Davey shuffled uncomfortable, desperate to do something.

“We found him,” Jack said, “not far from the distribution centre. He was like this when we got there.”

He sounded as uncomfortable as David felt.

“What and you ain’t seen nobody else?”

“Woulda told you if we did Oscar.”

“Yeah? Cuz I ain’t so sure Cowbo-“

“Can we do anything to help?” Apparently David was good at finding his voice just before things went to shit.

Oscar glanced round at him like he had forgotten he was there.

The silence went on for less than a second but felt like it lasted a lifetime.

“Get some water.” He said eventually, abruptly.

“Right.” He grabbed Jack’s forearm. Vaguely aware he was leaving sticky fingerprints on his skin. “Water.”

He dragged Jack out of the room behind him, didn’t know whether or not he was meant to close the door so he didn’t touch it.

“Did he mean water to clean the wound or to drink.”

“I don’t know. Both?”

David nodded, “Right. Both.”

He had an excuse to look through the cupboards now, a reason to use his hands in a way that helped shake the nervous energy. He was vaguely aware of the smear of copper he was leaving on everything he touched but couldn’t find it within himself to care just yet, because Morris could still die. People had died from less right? The man that lived in the apartment above them died two years ago after a cut on his leg got infected, and that was only a small thing, Morris’s wound seemed deep, and it was still bleeding and-

“Dave.”

Shit. Everything smelt like iron.

“Sorry, sorry, here’s a glass.”

“You alright?”

“Should we see if we can find a cloth?”

“Oi. Davey.”

There was a hand on his shoulder.

He stopped, took a breath, refused to meet Jack’s eyes. “Sorry. I’m fine I just-“

He didn’t know how to end the sentence.

“You ain’t never seen someone stabbed before.”

David glanced down at the glass in his hand, now covered with rusted fingerprints.

“Something like that.” He shook his head and shrugged Jack off and turned to the sink while Jack grabbed a clean looking cloth from a dish wrack with two washed plates next to it, and ran it under the warm water.

“He’ll be fine Davey.” His voice was quiet in the empty room. And then softer. “Specially if he’s got Oscar looking after him. He ain’t gonna let anything happen to him.”

“Don’t really think Death cares if someone’s got a big brother to fight him off Jack.”

And something on Jack’s face shifted for a second, near imperceptibly, then his mouth pulled up at the corners in the way that meant it was forced and didn’t carry to his eyes as he ducked his head and squeezed the water out of the cloth.

“I think he might.” Jack swallowed awkwardly and cleared his throat, then louder, over David’s shoulder. “Oscar, take his shirt off him.”

“Done it already Kelly, I ain’t a moron.”

He moved around Davey, slapped a hand in his shoulder on the way past. “Stay here Davey, clean up the blood maybe.”

For the second time that day, Davey did exactly what Jack asked without debate.

—-

It was forty-five minutes later. Morris’s eyelids had flickered once as far as he was aware and he was warm to the touch, according to a low mutter from Oscar who asked for another cold cloth to place on his forehead.

Jack had nipped out to see if he could scrounge up something to drink that was a little more sugary than water and some thread to close the wound, David for his part tried to stay out of the way.

He wasn’t meant to be here. This ghost town.

He wrapped and unwrapped the bandage he’d found in a cupboard which had been empty aside from a couple cheap bottles of beer around his hand as he headed back to the bedroom, except he stppped short outside the bedroom door (Oscar had closed it the second he left) when he heard speaking.

“Jesus Morris.” Oscar’s voice was low, quiet, only a little louder than a whisper. “You’re an idiot you know that? I’m gonna kill you if you die you know that right?”

He paused, David overheard the light clacking of something, wooden bead against wooden bead.

“You want me to pray is that it? This some big idea to get me to use your dumb beads cuz I’ll do it but I’ll be pissed about it.”

.

More silence.

.

“Christ Morris, c’mon open your eyes or somethin’ alright? Morris?”

More shuffling, the sound of knees hitting the floor.

“You can’t leave me here on my own alright? You can’t do that to me Mo.”

He shouldn’t be hearing this. He wanted to knock on the door but couldn’t bring himself to move his hand.

“But fine, see I’m doing it alright?”

A pause, a somewhat shaky voice.

“God, it’s been a while. An’ I know I ain’t exactly been a model citizen but you ain’t done shit for me either, I-“ an exhale. “but Morris, he’s tryin’ n’ you can’t let him die.” His voice wavered. “C’mon Morris. Don’t leave me on my own.”

.

A pause. David didn’t breathe.

.

.

“Hail Mary, full of grace-“

David shouldn’t be here.

Before his brain was even aware his body was moving he slammed his fist into the door, knocking hard and loud. He pretended he didn’t hear the scramble as Oscar rose to his feet. Pretended it took him a second to get the door open because of the bandages he was holding.

“What?” The word was snapped.

He made the active decision to ignore how Oscar’s eyes were rimmed red, to ignore the rosary beads shoved half-heartedly in his pocket.

“I got bandages.”

His eyes didn’t soften any as he snatched them, David almost flinched. “Good.”

____

“Hey, hey Mo.” For the first time in hours his eyelids moved. “C’mon moron open your eyes, you done it a million times before.”

“Christ,” Morris’s voice was cracked and quiet, like he’d barely spoken at all. “Why m’ I feeling like someone came at me with a belt.”

Oscar barked out a laugh and David couldn’t process the sound, he looked at Jack who was stood stock still leaning against the wall in the corner of the room instead.

Oscar’s hand carded through Morris’s hair in an action that looked rough, but wasn’t, another hand on his shoulder, keeping him pinned in place so he wouldn’t tear his stitches.

“You got stabbed you fucking idiot. Always pickin’ fights with the wrong people.”

Immediately Morris rolled his eyes, despite them being barely open to begin with. “Yeah like you can talk Oz.”

His voice was drowsy, like he’d had one too many whiskeys.

It was one of those moments again that David had been having so many off since they first stepped foot through the door, a moment he didn’t think he was meant to witness, one he shouldn’t have been allowed to see.

Apparently half-conscious Morris shared the sentiment, David jumped when he heard his name.

“The fuck is Jacobs doing here. Why the hell-“ he exhaled sharp and harsh, coughed twice something rough and painful. “Why the hell have both Jacobs been in my room. What the fuck is this.”

“Davey and Cowboy found your dumbass after you got yourself stabbed in a back alley.” He shoved a glass toward him. “Drink some water.”

“I got blood on my sheets.”

“Yeah moron you were bleeding.”

Then all at once the fight seemed to drain out of him, not that there was much to begin with but he’d woken up which was a feat in itself. “I’m real tired Oscar”

“Go to sleep then.”

“I ain’t said my prayers.”

“I’ll say em’ for you. Go to sleep.”

Morris didn’t answer, instead nodded near imperceptibly as he seemed to suddenly forget there were other people in the room and closed his eyes the millimetre they’d been open. Immediately his body relaxed again, the tension David had barely noticed over taking his shoulders, leaving.

Accidentally he met eyes with Oscar, but it was only a second before his gaze darkened to something familiar and shifted to Jack instead. Davey took that as his cue to step back and notice how the bed on the other side of the room was made up, how it had a couple of books sat on the night stand next to it, a pair of brass knuckles on top of them.

“You tell anyone about this and you’re dead Cowboy.”

Jack held two hands up in surrender. “I won’t say a word. You need an excuse why he won’t be at the gate tomorrow?”

“Not from you.”

“Okay.” He paused. “I’m glad he’s alright.”

Oscar scoffed, looked at his brother. “Sure, Kelly.”

And then Jack took that as his cue, turned to leave. He got as far as swinging the door open when Oscar spoke again.

“Thanks.”

It was short and gruff, Jack just turned around, face blank, and tipped his hat.

Which left Davey stood there. Like an idiot.

“I’m glad he’s okay.” He said, for lack of anything else to say. And because it was the truth. (He had washed his hands a hundred times over but could still feel the stickiness of dried blood clinging to them)

Oscar gave him a look, one he couldn’t decipher, which wasn’t unusual, but it wasn’t one he was familiar with either. Something more inquisitive than threatening.

“Why the hell did you care. You and Kelly both.”

David exchanged the weight of his feet from one to the other, glanced at Morris asleep and pale but alive, then back to Oscar again, he shrugged lightly.

“I have a younger brother too.”

XxX

(When Morris showed back up at the distribution gate two weeks later, David could feel his gaze following him. He didn’t say anything, nor did Morris, nor did Jack. But he noticed when Morris handed him his papers instead of shoving them into his chest.)

[tsarisfanfiction]

Lodged Thorn: Chapter 1

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Teen Genre: Friendship/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Clarisse, Michael, Chris Soulmarks weren't supposed to hurt when they came in. Then again, soulmarks weren't supposed to immediately start fading, either. So this is the fault of The Fanfic Reading Challenge server on discord, with all their talk about Soulmate AUs reminding me that I've never written one. Being me, of course, I've gone the Platonic Soulmate route, and I am still firmly in Michael&Clarisse brainrot, so the result was rather obvious... I don't think this'll be more than two or three chapters; it's just an experimental fic so I'll be working on it as and when my muses engage.

A sharp pain tore through Clarisse’s leg and she stumbled, falling to one knee and barely bracing her hand against the ground to stop herself from overbalancing entirely.  “Shit,” she hissed, teeth clenching against the pain as she forced herself to breathe through it.

“Clarisse!” Chris fretted, instantly joining her on the ground.  “What happened?”  Around the two of them, armour creaked and weapons clattered as her siblings jumped into a defensive circle, no doubt searching for the threat.

She’d say she’d trained them well, except she knew they were all agitated at being held back from the war, their nerves on a hair-trigger for anything involving conflict.  She was the same way, no matter that she was pressing down on it with all her might, because she was not jumping into this war, not leading her siblings to fight a war for their father when Ares had always made it clear that everyone should fight their own battles.

Ares would fight to defend his own throne.  He did not need – would not want – his children to take that away from him.

It was a weak excuse and she knew it.  All of her siblings knew it.  She hadn’t even admitted it to anyone that wasn’t an Ares kid – or Chris, because Chris was her partner.  The chariot, the argument with Michael (another one, because the short bastard never failed to get under her skin), had made a better excuse, or at least one she was willing to verbalise.

Another bolt of pain shot straight through her leg and she cursed again, hand clutching at the spot in her thigh that burned white hot and intense.

Darker hands covered hers, trying to nudge it out of the way.

“Let me see,” Chris pleaded.  If it was anyone else, Clarisse would’ve shoved them away roughly, but it was Chris and while there was no reason for her leg to suddenly be in agony when they were within the bounds of camp, and as far as she could tell nothing was even trying to threaten them, she understood why he wanted to check.

“Sherman, take everyone on another perimeter check,” she ordered.  “Make sure camp isn’t under attack.”  Her brother grimaced as though it was his leg that hurt, but knew better than to protest.  Within moments, he had their cabin dispersing into their patrol routes, leaving her alone with Chris.

Her boyfriend wouldn’t be taking no for an answer now that they had no audience, and Clarisse also wanted to know what the Hades was happening to her leg, so she let him help her tug her pants off until her thigh was visible.

Chris spotted it first, eyes going wide.  “Uh… Clarisse?”

“What?” she snapped, moving her hands out of her line of sight until she could see- “Shit.”

Her thigh was uninjured, but not unmarked.  Blooming over old scar tissue was the shape of a thorn – a rose thorn, her mind supplied uselessly, trivia picked up from her friendship with Silena.

“That’s your soulmark,” Chris said numbly.  Clarisse kept her jaw clenched tightly against the pain.

Soulmarks were generally considered to be a sign from some higher power.  Different religions had different views on what, exactly, caused them, and Camp Half-Blood was of the general opinion that they were the Fates’ responsibility.  No-one had come up with a pattern in when they appeared, and people tended to only have one, an image that somehow linked two people together on a soul level, hence soulmark.  Soulmates were not romantic – not that it was unheard of for a soulmated pair to choose to be romantically involved, although it wasn’t overly common, either.  Instead, soulmates were platonic first and foremost.  Maybe a best friend, sometimes a sibling (often the case, at camp, where sibling was a broad category that encompassed so many people), always a constant.

Soulmarks were not supposed to hurt like Tartarus when they formed.  Clarisse had seen enough campers gain them over the years to know that it was a painless affair, often not even noticed until someone happened to spot the new mark on skin.

“What the fuck,” Clarisse growled at the new image on her thigh, and not just because of the pain that wasn’t supposed to be there.  The mark had formed over one of her scars, exactly over the old mark she’d got when she was nine and the new kid at camp had shot her.  Deliberately.  There was no way it was a coincidence, not when the thorn was golden and she’d always thought of the asshole as a thorn in her side.

Her soulmate was Michael and the Fates were assholes for it.

Trust Michael to still find a way to be a pain even when he was away, fighting a war in Manhattan.

“That bastard,” she snarled.  “That absolute…”

Going on a tirade about him at least distracted her from the pain, if nothing else.  Clarisse tore her eyes away from the offending image as she did so, spitting profanities to the sky and balling her hands up into fists.  She hoped his mark coming in had hurt just as much.

“Clarisse.”

Chris’ quiet voice cut her off.  He sounded wrong, looked wrong, skin paling.

“What?” she demanded, barely softening her voice because she was angry, dammit.  Why- how- was it Michael?

Her boyfriend’s next words felt like a bucket of ice water had been tipped over her.  “It’s fading.”

His voice shook, and Clarisse didn’t miss how his hand came up to grip at his shoulder, where she knew a faint silvery-grey outline of a feather hid under his clothes.

Chris hadn’t had his soulmark when he’d gone to join Kronos.  When Clarisse had hauled him, insane and insensate, out of the Labyrinth two years later, it was already faded.

It took longer for her to look back down at the damn thorn on her thigh, but when she did, she could see that Chris was right.  The golden colour was leaching away in a gradient.  Already, the sharp tip of the thorn had gone the tell-tale silvery-grey.

Michael was her soulmate.

Michael was dying.

She’d told him she hoped he died, a parting shot even after he gave up the damn chariot and proceeded to call her as many names as she’d had in store for him.  They weren’t strangers to death – even before this last stand at Manhattan, demigods had been dying.  She’d known exactly what she’d been hoping for – or had thought she had, back when she was ignorant about their soulmate deal.

Clarisse didn’t want to care, even now.  Finding out he was her soulmate didn’t make her suddenly like him, or even hate him any less.  He was still an asshole and maybe she’d do better without him.

“Clarisse,” Chris said quietly.  His dark eyes were still locked on her soulmark, and his hand was shaking against his shoulder.

Her name had been Mary, he’d told her, once he was sane again.  That had eased the sting of when he’d called her Mary, not Clarisse, while in the throes of insanity.  He hadn’t known her long, but she’d been his soulmate and her death had been part of what broke him.

“He’s in Manhattan,” she protested.  “There’s no way-”  Even if she could make it in time, before her mark faded, leaving the gold nothing but a brief memory, she wasn’t a healer.  She wouldn’t be able to save his life.

Chris’ voice still trembled.  “You have to try,” he said, insisted.  “Even if it’s not enough, you- you have to try.  Don’t-  No regrets.  No regrets, Clarisse.”

Clarisse wanted to say she wouldn’t regret not going.  She wouldn’t regret leaving Michael to his clearly inevitable fate.  If anyone else had told her she would, she’d have punted them out of her sight.

But this was Chris.  Chris, who knew regret.  Who knew how it felt to lose a soulmate, who knew things in a way she couldn’t.

Who didn’t want to even risk her feeling the same way he did.

“I’ll be too late,” she said, but she was already pulling herself to her feet again, tugging her pants back up and grabbing her spear from where she had dropped it when the pain began.

It still hurt, but it was a pain she could push aside, a pain that let itself be pushed aside.

Part of Clarisse wondered if painful soulmark appearances tied in to the imminent deaths of the soulmate, revealed too soon if only for closure.

She didn’t bother to grab her armour.  The thought that she should barely occurred to her; she had her spear, she could fight.

She was only going because Michael was a bastard who she suddenly needed to try and make sure didn’t die.  She wasn’t going to join the war.

It was a matter of minutes before she had the pegasi harnessed to the flying chariot and ready to go, and Clarisse didn’t let herself hesitate as she swung herself up into it.  Chris jumped up behind her without asking, without her asking, but Clarisse didn’t protest.

“Where are you going?”  Ellis was quiet but observant; Clarisse hadn’t noticed the younger boy until he called out.  If it was Sherman, she might have told him the truth, but Ellis was too young – and too smart – to hear about a dying soulmate.

“Patrol,” she said shortly.  “Tell Sherman he’s in charge until we get back.”

“What about your leg?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Clarisse snapped the reigns and the pegasi leaped into action, charging forwards and into the sky before Ellis could make any more complaints – or astute observations.

“You could’ve told him,” Chris murmured in her ear, his arms wrapped around her waist as they flew.

She shook her head.  “They need to stay here,” she said.  They needed to stay in camp, guarding camp from any side-blows Kronos might get it into his head to initiate, and also away from the front line of a war that would get them killed as shields for the rest of the campers.  If they realised she was running to the war front, regardless of the reason, they’d have used that as an excuse to jump into battle.

Pressed against her back, with only clothes and no armour between them, Clarisse could feel him still shaking.  “You didn’t have to come,” she said.

“Yes, I did,” he argued.  “You’ll need me, whatever happens.”  Even above the wind rushing past them, she could hear him take in a deep breath, “and I think… I need this.  He’s not Mary, he’s not mine, but… I have to try, this time.”

“Her death wasn’t your fault,” Clarisse said bluntly, and not for the first time.  Chris’ usual response of I know that, but… didn’t come.

“And if Michael dies, it won’t be your fault,” he told her instead, and Clarisse felt like the air had been punched out of her as her leg gave a reminding throb.

“I know that,” she said quickly – too quickly, dammit.  “He’s too far away.”  She couldn’t even see her soulmark to check how quickly it was fading, but it was still hurting so that had to mean he was still alive, didn’t it?  “This is as fast as the chariot goes.”  They were hurtling through the sky, far faster than mortal transportation could cross the distance between camp and Manhattan, but it was still going to take time to get there.

The odds of Michael being still alive, or even still saveable, by the time they arrived were slim and there was nothing she could do about it.  She knew that, of course it wouldn’t be her fault for not getting there fast enough – and besides, she’d already told Michael to die, prepared to not see his scowling, ferrety asshole face again.

She’d told him to die, though, and now he was dying, and it was stupid but there was part of Clarisse’s chest that was getting too tight.  Shit.

Chris’ “I know you do,” was full of understanding.

Their flight passed in silence after that, Clarisse pushing the pegasi as fast as they could fly and ignoring Silena’s voice in the back of her head telling her that she was going too hard on the creatures.  Instead, she found her head whirling, running through all her moments with Michael throughout her life and trying to work out where the fuck the Fates saw soulmate in there, because Clarisse couldn’t.

Maybe she had misinterpreted the soulmark.  That wasn’t common but could happen; the only confirmation was a matching image on the other’s skin, and until she saw Michael she wouldn’t know – and if his was also on his thigh, she wasn’t going to be seeing that ever, unless she tore his pants off to check.  Misinterpretation seemed more likely than it actually being Michael, now that she thought about it, but she was already on a mission, and Chris wouldn’t let her bail out of it without checking.

Hades, but Michael was going to be insufferable if he was perfectly fine and she landed in front of him without even bringing her armour to a war.

Eventually, Manhattan loomed in front of them.  It was big, big enough that looking for a single demigod would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.  From her birds’ eye view, nothing seemed to be even moving, leaving the city looking dead.

The bridges she flew over bore signs of battle, though.  Vines curled out of a tunnel, and chunks of masonry were dislodged in a way that only violence could cause.  Where was everyone?

She almost flew in straight towards the towering Empire State Building – if nothing else, they would be near Olympus – but a small instinct in the back of her mind had her veering around the city, following the waters that isolated the island from the rest of New York.  Past the Hudson, and over the East River instead.

Williamsburg Bridge was obliterated.  What had once been a large, proud bridge was a mass of steel and concrete churned up together in the middle of the river, with only solitary suspension cables still bridging the destruction.

Behind her, Chris breathed out Hades.

Demigods had died here.  There was no way they hadn’t.  She could even see bodies in the wreckage and surrounding river, although none of them wore orange.  Enemy demigods, then.

There was no sign of the living, but Clarisse still brought the chariot down, skimming the bizarrely clean waters – what had Jackson done, that had to be the son of Poseidon’s bullshit powers at work – past floating debris and bodies, until she saw it.

There, on the bank, sopping wet and broken, was a too-small body that had her thigh hurting again, and Clarisse wasted no time in bringing the chariot to land next to it, leaping out before the pegasi had even stopped and leaving Chris to scramble out behind her.

Michael looked dead.

Blood covered the side of his face, an open gash running from temple to cheek and barely missing his eye. His body was twisted and contorted in a way that was wrong, no doubt several broken bones. A spindle of metal erupted from his torso, staining the torn orange top dark red.

Worst of all was the certainty. From the moment she'd spotted him, she'd known he was her soulmate, no need to tear at his pant leg to hunt down a matching mark.

“Shit,” she swore, stumbling down to her knees for the second time since dawn because of Michael, of all people. He was still partially in the water and her shins soaked immediately. “Shit. Don't you dare be dead, you asshole.” Her fingers fumbled at his throat, hunting for a pulse. “Don't you fucking dare, Michael.” Blood and damp skin made it difficult to get a purchase, and Clarisse realised she was shaking as her fingers kept slipping away from his pulse points with no success. “Come on, dammit.” She couldn’t even see if he was breathing.

“Clarisse, he's got a pulse,” Chris said suddenly.  She jumped, not having noticed him kneeling next to her. He had one of Michael’s wrists in his grip, and Clarisse tried not to think about how lifeless his limp and dangling hand looked. “There's still a chance.”

A chance, but… “I don't know what to do,” she admitted. She wasn’t a healer - she broke things, she didn't fix them.

“Check if he’s breathing,” Chris directed.  He sounded calmer, now, as though Michael being not dead yet was the trigger he needed to get out of his own soulmate trauma.  Clarisse heard him rustling with a bag she hadn’t realised he’d brought with them, but focused on doing as she was told, dredging up memories of various Apollo kids over the years as they drilled basic first aid into the rest of the campers over and over again.

It was the closest she’d ever got to Michael without one of them trying to hurt the other, either physically or with barbed words, but she shunted the thought out her mind in favour of leaning over him, her cheek almost touching his lips as she squinted down the wonky line of his body.  He wasn’t flat on his back, which meant that she couldn’t really see if his chest was rising and falling, and with the metal spire sticking out of him, she wasn’t about to move him, but she could still focus on her cheek, and the faint tickling sensation of air puffing against it.

“He’s breathing,” she reported, pulling back without taking her eyes off his limp body.  It seemed impossible that he was still alive.  Clarisse had the horrid suspicion that one wrong action would tip him over the edge, and feared being the one to do it.

Only a few hours ago, she wouldn’t have cared.  She still hated Michael; a single soulmark wasn’t enough to undo seven years of constant clashes.

She didn’t want him to die.

“Good,” Chris said.  “Here.”  She sensed movement in her periphery and glanced over to see her boyfriend holding out a vial of nectar.  “I don’t know how much he’s got in his system already so go slow with it.  You know the signs of reaching the limit.”

Clarisse took the vial, pulling out the stopper with her teeth.  “You are never living this down, you hear me?” she told the unresponsive Michael as she slipped a hand underneath his head, her fingers getting tangled in snarled, wet hair, and slowly tilted it enough to straighten out his throat and part his lips.  He didn’t stir, no indication at all that he was anything other than dying, and Clarisse tipped the first drops into his open mouth.

In her periphery, Chris was moving around, flashes of off-white bandages flickering across the edge of her vision, but Clarisse didn’t let herself look away from the golden liquid as drop by drop, it landed on Michael’s tongue and slid towards his throat.

“Come on,” she growled as the first third of the vial disappeared with no visible effects.  “Show some signs of life, dammit.  This stuff is too valuable to waste on a dead body.”

Michael didn’t stir, even as a third turned into a half, and then two thirds.  A golden drop landed on the corner of his mouth, trickling down the outside of his face and she growled at it – at her hand, which had started shaking, until it steadied enough for the rest of the vial to trickle inside his mouth, where it was supposed to be.

He must not have had any godly food earlier, because even with an entire vial – and not a small one, either – there were no tell-tale signs of smouldering lips or tongue.  Clarisse dropped the empty vial and before her brain could catch up with her actions, caught the single drop now on his cheek with a finger, dabbing it directly on his tongue.

“Come on, you bastard,” she hissed.  “You are not dying on me now.”

She hunted for his pulse again, this time finding the spot on his neck that throbbed lightly.

“Is he still breathing?” Chris asked her.  She glanced at him to see that he’d packed bandages around the metal sticking though Michael and was securing them in place with more bandages.

When she ducked her head back down, the puffs of air that hit her cheek felt stronger.

“Still breathing,” she confirmed.  “What now?”

“We can’t stay here,” Chris said.  “We don’t have the supplies to do any more where we are.”

Clarisse sat back on her haunches and looked at the still-crumpled body between them.  “Can we move him?” she asked, although Chris was right.  They couldn’t stay where they were.  They didn’t know where the titan’s army or the rest of the campers were, or where the next stage of the battle would take place.

Hades, they didn’t even know which side of the battlelines they were.  She had an awful suspicion they weren’t in allied territory.

If they were, someone else would’ve come across them by now.  Michael wasn’t popular outside of his cabin – Clarisse wasn’t the only one that didn’t like him, which had made all the head counsellors siding with him over her about the chariot hurt even more – but even if no-one else had bothered, the other Apollo kids would still have come to try and help him, if they could.

“Carefully,” Chris stressed.  “I’ll bring the chariot closer.”

He stepped away and Clarisse’s attention snapped back to Michael.  He still looked pale, underneath the blood.  Chris had only bound the impalement, leaving the rest of his wounds untouched, and Clarisse grabbed for the bag, needing something do to while her boyfriend wrangled the pegasi.  She’d rather be the one dealing with the chariot, but given Michael was her soulmate, she knew why Chris had swapped roles.

“You are still a bastard,” she told Michael as she wrenched out a cloth and pressed it against the blood on his face.  She didn’t have any water to dampen it (the East River might look clean, but she still wasn’t going to trust it) and there was only so much it could do to lift the blood dry, but even clearing some of it away made Michael seem less dead.

She haphazardly covered the gash in gauze and medical tape, a temporary solution until they got back to camp – they had to go back to camp, her cabin were waiting, and even if they found the Apollo kids in Manhattan, there was no guarantee of a safe place to leave a half-dead demigod.  Camp was further, but was more likely to keep Michael alive.

Hooves sank into the soft bank next to her, passing by until the open end of the chariot sat next to Michael, and Chris reappeared.

“One of us will need to hold him,” he pointed out.  “You or me?”

The chariot was Clarisse’s.  “I’ll drive,” she said.

There was also no fucking way she was holding onto Michael for the hour it would take them to get back to camp.  Soulmate or not, that was too far.

Chris agreed easily.  “Help me lift him up?” he asked, crouching down next to him and gingerly starting to move him.  Clarisse knelt on Michael’s other side, painfully aware of how small and fragile he was as, between them, they manoeuvred him onto his back.  The metal spur shifted slightly, red starting to bloom on the white bandages surrounding it, and she cursed.

There was nothing they could do about it, though, and Chris scooped him up into his arms as soon as he could.  Michael’s head lolled limply, and his right arm slipped to dangle down as Chris stood up.  Clarisse grabbed it without thinking, and was halfway to setting it back on Michael’s chest when she saw it.

On the pad of Michael’s pointer finger, the same colour as freshly spilled blood, was a thorn, the exact size and shape as the golden thorn on her thigh.

It hadn’t occurred to her that Michael’s soulmark would be somewhere else on his body, for all that it was hardly uncommon for placements to be different.  Now she saw it, though, it was obvious.  Her mark was where the arrow had landed, seven years ago.  His mark was on one of the fingers that had fired it.

“Clarisse?”

Hurriedly, she let go of the arm, and stepped out of the way so that Chris could step into the chariot.  He sat down at the front, his grip on Michael obviously firm, and Clarisse wasted no time in hopping in after him, snatching up the reins and bracing herself for take-off.

Chris and Michael didn’t quite slam into her legs as the pegasi lurched forwards, but she still felt the touch as gravity tried to stake its claim on them, and braced harder.  It was easier to be the barrier than the cradle.  Still, she kept the acceleration gradual, not letting the pegasi immediately blast into top speed as they flew away from Manhattan and the war – or what seemed more like a temporary cease-fire, from the utter stillness of the city beneath them.

It meant that the flight took longer, and Clarisse couldn’t help the periodic glances down at her boyfriend holding Michael – her soulmate and that still felt as wrong as it did right – hoping that they’d made the right decision to move.  That she’d made the right decision to head for camp and the infirmary there rather than hunting down the temporary triage the Apollo kids had no doubt set up somewhere.

Somehow, Michael was still alive when the chariot touched down by the Big House over an hour later, and Clarisse jumped out of the way so Chris could hurry inside the infirmary with him.  She didn’t follow him immediately, buying herself some time to think as she unhitched the pegasi and led them back to their stables.

The thinking time flew straight out the window as she reached the stables to see that all the horses had gone.  There should’ve been several of them there, but not a single one remained.  All of their tack had gone, too, and an encroaching feeling of dread had her running to where the chariots were kept.

Gone.

All gone.

“Sherman!” she roared, abandoning the stables and throwing herself towards her cabin, already knowing it would be empty but hoping that her siblings hadn’t surrendered to the urge to go to war and marched out without her – behind her back.

Unsurprisingly, it was deserted.  All their weapons were gone, and their armour, too.

Clarisse’s armour was also gone.

What the fuck?  Why had they taken her armour with them?

Why hadn’t she seen them go?  She’d flown right over the route they must’ve taken-

Except she hadn’t been looking down.  Not at the ground.  Her attention had been ahead, at her destination, and at her feet, where Michael’s blood had been slowly staining white bandages red, and sinking into Chris’ clothes, too.  Her pants hadn’t escaped, either.

Blood on her pants didn’t matter.  What mattered was that her siblings had marched to war despite her best efforts to stop them.  Clarisse spun sharply on her heel and stormed out of the cabin, heading straight for the infirmary.

Michael or no Michael, soulmate or no soulmate, she knew where she was supposed to be and it was at the head of her cabin.

“They’ve gone!” she raged as she stormed into the infirmary.  “All the chariots, all our weapons.  Sherwin’s marched them to war!”

Chris’ head jerked up from where he was standing over one of the infirmary beds.  Clarisse deliberately didn’t look at the small body laying on it.

“I’m going after them,” she said, before her boyfriend could say anything.  “You-”

“Okay,” Chris interrupted her.  “Okay, but before you go, I need your help here.”

“I don’t have time to waste!” she argued.  “They could have left immediately-”

“The pegasi need a rest,” he overrode her.  “You can’t go charging back out there after pushing them so hard already today.  Let them breathe.  They’re still faster than the other chariots – you’ll make up most of the time even if you hang on another five minutes, and I need your help here.  Now.”

It was the sharp now that caught her attention, and she reluctantly trudged closer, unable to help looking at Michael as she did so.  The metal was still sticking up out of him ominously, and the surrounding bandages looked close to saturation.  Chris had somehow stripped Michael down to the waist despite it, and Clarisse could finally see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

The sight settled something in her, although it barely touched the agitation at her missing siblings.  He was still alive.

Her soulmate was still alive.

Her soulmate or her siblings?

Clarisse scowled.  “Five minutes only,” she said, glaring at Michael.  It was his fault she was delaying, still a thorn in her side even when he was unconscious.  “What is it?”

“This needs to come out,” Chris said, gesturing at the metal.  It glistened in the light of the infirmary, beads of blood pooling in its twists.  “I need you to put as much pressure as you can on the bandages while I extract it.”

“Fine,” Clarisse said shortly, crossing the last few steps to Michael’s bedside.  The blood-soaked bandages felt wrong under her fingers, and so did the idea of leaning on the wound with all her strength, but she knew Chris was right.

The metal had to come out, and Michael had to not bleed out in the process.

She braced herself, pushing down hard enough that a split-second choked cry came from the unconscious teen’s mouth, making her jump.  The unconscious weren’t supposed to make noises, although she thought it was supposed to be a good sign that he was responding to some stimuli again.

Chris ignored the noise.  He’d pulled on gloves, and wrapped his hands firmly around the metal.  “On three,” he said.  “One…  Two…  Three.”  On three, he pulled, and Clarisse had to fight to keep Michael’s body flat against the bed, and at least some of his blood still in his body as the twisted spire of metal slowly tore itself free.

Michael let out another cry and his fingers jerked, but a glance at his face showed that he was still completely unconscious.  Clarisse scowled and pressed down harder as blood started to leak through the bandages.

As soon as the metal was clear, Chris was working around her hands, flushing out the wound and starting to stitch it up.  Clarisse could do nothing except stay still and will Michael’s blood to stay in his body, where it was supposed to be.

It was much longer than five minutes before Chris was done, pulling away the last of the blood-soaked bandages and covering the stitched-up wound with fresh supplies.

“He was lucky,” he said as he stripped the bloodied gloves from his hands.  ��It didn’t go all the way through, and it was far enough away from his core that it didn’t puncture anything fatal.”  He sagged against the bed.  “I’m not an Apollo kid, but I think he should pull through.”

Clarisse hadn’t realised how much she needed to hear those words until they washed over her.

Fuck Michael for being her soulmate and suddenly being important to her.  Maybe he was tolerable while unconscious and near-death, but as soon as he was awake and talking again, she was going to remember why she hated him so much, she knew.  He was going to be insufferable about being her soulmate and she was going to wish she’d left him to die.

“I’ll stay here and keep an eye on him,” Chris continued.  “Are you still going after your cabin?”  That was a stupid question she knew he already knew the answer to.

“Those idiots need me,” she said, “and I’m going to kick their asses for entering the war!”

“Okay,” he accepted.  “Be careful, and if I see even a hint of grey on Michael’s finger, I’m going to kill you, even if I have to bring you back from the Underworld first.”

Clarisse glanced down at the finger in question.  The thorn was still full of colour, unapologetically red and confirming that Clarisse, at least, was in no imminent danger of death where she stood.  She found herself wishing that her own mark was somewhere easier to check, before pushing the thought out of her mind.

She was going to war.  She did not need distractions.

“You won’t have to,” she swore.  He gave her a thin smile and stood up, bracing his hands on her shoulders.

“Give them hell,” he said.  “Then come back.”  He kissed her, briefly but firmly.  “We’ll be waiting.”

She glanced back over at Michael instinctively; he looked better without metal sticking out of him, but he still didn’t look well.  Her feet dragged her over to his side and she looked down at him, crossing her arms.

“Don’t you fucking dare die on me now, Michael,” she said.  “I need your ass alive so I can kick it later for being my soulmate.”  And scaring me when you’re not supposed to be someone I care about.

Chris chuckled.  “I’ll do my best to make sure he doesn’t,” he promised.  “Shoo.  You’ve got a war to fight.”

“Damn straight I do,” she growled, and with one last glance at both of them, boyfriend and soulmate (both safely away from the war and staying that way), she spun on her heel and marched out.

It was time for the daughter of war to fight.

tbc...

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

Maze runner chapter nineteen

Previous chapter

Masterlist

Newt walked with you to the med tent where Thomas was sitting inside. The doctor was talking him through the immunity process having taken some of his blood, processed it and administered it to Brenda.

“Sorry Doc, we were just wondering if you check y/n’s arm.” Newt said sheepishly, concern filled Thomas's eyes.

“Sure, come here.” She patted a stool for you to sit on.

“She was…bitten about four days ago.” Newt said. The doctor looked at him and then you, suddenly very worried. Having removed your coats you hold your arm out to her and she gawks at it. She takes hold of your arm and twists it a little really taking in what she was seeing.

“You were bit by a crank?” She asks and you nod, “and nothing, no symptoms of turning?” You shake your head. “This is remarkable. You're healing wonderfully. Even with other immunes I've never seen this.” She uses some medical equipment to clean up the wound a little and ensure no other infections could get in before wrapping it in a clean white bandage.

“Usually, with immune kids we see them turn to some degree, they get the anger but after a few days it subsides. Do you mind if I take some of your blood? Just to take a look?”

You agree and she draws the smallest amount before putting on a glass slide to check below a microscope.

“Fascinating. Your blood is actually killing the virus.” She laughs, “wow no wonder she wanted you.”

“In the maze, well the control room I saw a list of the kids. Me, Newt, Minho and Thomas were highlighted. I'm not sure why.” You say.

The doctor thinks for a moment, then darts from the tent, leaving you all alone.

“Why didn't you tell us, y/n?” Thomas asks.

“I was scared, after Winston I just…” meets hands rubbed your shoulders and he kissed the top of your head. It seemed like now he had done it once there was no way he would stop kissing you, any part of you.

The doctor came back in with a folder of things in her hands.

“Here, look, the four of you scored the highest on all the tests, Minho a little lower but you three, you were her hopes. She put you two in early to try the breeding experiment.”

“The what?” You gawked, “what are those?”

“Thomas sent them to me, it's a copy of Ava's notes. Ava was convinced if immune kids had children together it would yield more immunes and better results. A master race of guinea pigs.”

“That's why they did the pregnancy test.” Thomas interjected.

“The what?” Newt looked between you all.

“At the facility.” You say quietly. Newt thought for a moment and then said, “I need to go.” He turned on his heel and left. You weren't sure what to do so you just sat there awkwardly.

“Come on, let's get you some food.” The doctor led you out.

The rest of the day seemed almost uneventful as you all settled into this new life. You ate and talked with other immunes and finally started to feel like you might be safe. The boys and you all take a seat on top of a small rock formation. Mai Mai sat beside you and Newt on the other side. The sun setting over the idyllic setting.

“I wish Alby could've seen all this.” Newt said.

“And Winston.” Frypan agreed

“And Chuck.” Thomas played with the small figure Chuck had made.

“He'd be proud of you, you know, Tommy.” Newt said to him.

“Yeah.”

“And Gally.” You sigh. Newt pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arm around his face. Thomas looked at you with his eyebrows drawn in.

“He was my friend, all he wanted was peace and safety for all of us.” You try to sniff away the tears.

“Yeah, yeah he did.” Minho agreed with a sigh.

“Hey, Aris!” Frypan called down to him

“Hey, guys!” Aris waved back, he was sitting between Harriet and Sonya. In a way it felt like he should've been sitting with you.

“I kinda like that kid.” Frypan laughed.

“Yeah. I still don't trust him, though.” Minho joked. You all laughed for a moment. Newt removed his arm from you and blew onto his gloves hands. He shuffled himself slightly away from you so you weren't touching anymore.

“Hey, where's Teresa?” Thomas asked.

“She went up there.” Newt pointed to a higher Rockford where Teresa was standing looking out to the horizon. As he walks away you turn to Mai Mai and stroke her. The tiger puts her large head on your lap and the warmth of her seeps into your skin.

“Guys, I'm really glad we all made it.” You say to them.

“Yeah, us too, y/n” Minho reached across and patted the tiger. You look at him but are distracted by two lights in the distance.

“What is that?” You ask standing up. The others turn and look. Several burgs were flying in and the noise that had been creeping up, now deafening.

“Run!” Frypan shouted as he grabbed your hand.

The chaos was instant, with people running around in every direction you got separated from the group. You trip on a rock and hurtle to the floor. Before you could stop him a man was kneeling above you. You struggle against him and manage to kick him off but as you scramble to your feet an explosion goes off beside you. It sends you flying into a pile of boxes. Your head smacks against the floor.

“It's the girl, get her in the burg.” you hear a voice you recognise commands a soldier.

You're too weak to fight back. In the distance you see Mai Mai defending Newt before being stunned by an electric shot.

The next thing you feel is cold metal against your face. Your hands are bound and then Teresa is standing above you but you can't hear what she is saying. A sharp scratch in the side of your neck has your eyes dropping and then, nothing, darkness

Next chapter

@fandomfan-102 @deanstolemydragon @afalls14universe @akilaporu001

[yoongisleftshoulder]

BTS Reacts: S/O Suffers From a Concussion

TW: ACCIDENTS, MENTIONS OF BLOOD, BULLYING

Seokjin:

It was something silly, really. You and Jin were cooped up in the kitchen, trying out a new dinner recipe he had brought up. The whole ordeal was cute and almost romantic. That is until your boyfriend went to open one of the kitchen cabinets. This cabinet in particular had a damaged handle and often got stuck. He was pulling on it with all his might when you turned to say something to him.

"Jinny, can you pass me the-"

Your unfinished question was cut off by a large thud and the sound of you letting out a shrill yell. Jin's expression dropped when he realized that he had just smacked you full force with the wooden door to the cabinet. He shut off the stove, put his hands around your shoulder and waist to stabilize you and walked you over to the couch. He sat you down as he called a nurse who worked with Hybe. The nurse arrived quickly and told them you had a mild concussion from the impact. She recommended that you don't sleep for a while to ensure that you would be okay. That night, Jin pulled an all nighter so he could keep a close watch on you. Dinner was long forgotten.

Yoongi:

Yoongi was seeing you off as your driver pulled the van away from his company building, taking you back to your own building for a dance practice. The last thing he expected to see while doing so was a car speeding through a red light and slamming into the van. He swore his heart stopped. The sounds of car horns and the screeching of damaged metal was deafening. Yoongi forced his feet to move as he sprinted over to your vehicle. Your driver had already exited the front seat to walk around to the back seat and check if you were hurt.

By the time he reached the van, he saw the driver opening the door to where you were sitting. He stuck his head in immediately to look at you. You were sitting in place muttering out "I'm okay, I'm okay...I'm okay." A light trickle of blood was running down your face from your forehead. Yoongi's panic grew higher and higher as he took in your dazed state. Scared, he went all the way into the car as the driver called an ambulance. He told you over and over that you were going to be fine when in reality, he was terrified. The ambulance arrived not even three minutes later and took you and Yoongi away. He refused to let go of your shaking weak hand. The wait for a doctor to give him an update at the hospital was unbearable. When someone finally came to speak to him, they revealed that you had scrapes and bruises and the worst you had suffered was a concussion. He was worried about this but he felt a sense of relief wash over him when he understood that you weren't dying today. A nurse found him a folding cot and chair to put inside of your room so he could stay with you overnight.

Hoseok:

100000000% Panic. Right before his own eyes, a set of hanging stage lights came loose and swung down at you, making contact with your head. You fell down as a result and your hands flung up to your skull. The pain was intense and it made tears prick your eyes. Hoseok would be freaking out so bad that he wouldn't even know what to do with himself. He was silently asking himself things like "Should I get ice?" or "Should I get water or painkillers or-" The staff members on site helped both of you calm down before calling an ambulance. Hoseok spent the remainder of the time there holding you close to him, letting you cry into his chest as he tried to whisper sweet comforts into your ear.

Namjoon:

Namjoon got an unexpected phone call from a local hospital saying you had been admitted there and you had told them to call him for an emergency contact. He had never driven so fast in his life. As soon as he entered the hospital, he darted over to the front desk and explained who he was. They directed him to your room and he went without a second thought. When he arrived at your room, he saw three police officers surrounding your bed, along with one nurse. Namjoon was internally freaking out at the sight. Everyone in the room noticed he was there and exited to give him a few minutes with you before returning to taking your statement. He was all over you in the blink of an eye, asking what happened, what your injuries were, and why there were police there. You yourself had to calm him down before explaining that while walking home from work alone, a group of women who had been giving you a hard time for a while finally picked a fight with you with an unfair advantage. It was five against one and your head suffered for it. Luckily, you didn't have much more than a concussion. This still wasn't good enough for your boyfriend, though. Even after you were discharged and deemed safe to go home, Namjoon was watching you like a hawk. For almost a full week he was attached to you at the hip. He would constantly ask you if you felt sick or dizzy or felt any type of pain at all. You basically gained a bodyguard for a few weeks while you recovered.

Jimin:

When a staff member pulled Jimin aside during a live to inform him that you suffered a concussion after falling down a flight of stairs, he would swiftly end the live and exit his company building, speeding over to the hospital. His voice was too nervous and shaky so the staff member lead the way and spoke to the hospital receptionist on his behalf. Once they found your room, the helpful woman opted to stand outside to give Jimin some private time with you. He took one look at you and immediately blamed himself. Even though it wasn't logical, the fact that he loved you and you were lying injured in a hospital bed made him feel like a failure as a boyfriend. Inside his head, he would beat himself up and fall into a temporary depression knowing that he wasn't around to protect you and keep you safe.

Taehyung:

You and Taehyung were in the dance room, practicing the newest BTS choreo. He was using his expertise and showing you how to execute each move perfectly. There was one spin in particular that you were having trouble with. Just as you were about to attempt the move again, your loose shoe kicked off of your foot and caused you to lose your balance. Unfortunately for you, you were unable to catch yourself before falling and slammed your forehead onto the slippery maple wood flooring. Taehyung laughed and asked if you were okay, not realizing how badly you had actually fallen. His eyes nearly shot out of his head when he noticed that you weren't responding or getting up. He called for a staff member, who then called an ambulance. Before it got there, you started to come to, asking your boyfriend what just happened. He explained everything to you and did his best to comfort you until the emergency crew arrived. After getting to the hospital, he tried his best to stay in your room with you while you were examined but was told by nurses that he would need to wait in the waiting room until they were done. As soon as he was allowed to, he rushed back into your room and insisted on sleeping there for the night.

Jungkook:

Jungkook had taken you to one of his boxing lessons. It was nearing the end and his trainer had already left the training room; at this point, you and your boyfriend were gathering your things into his large duffel bag, getting ready to leave. You weren't entirely sure how it started but the two of you became distracted and began play fighting. Jungkook was pretending to right and left hook you while you acted out fancy spin kicks. After a while, you decided it was enough because you were growing to be too tired and really wanted to go back home. Your boyfriend kissed your forehead, agreeing, watching you walk away over to the rest of your belongings. While he waited for you to come back, he threw out punches and moves with his elbows into the air. What he hadn't realized, however, is that you had stopped and turned back around to face him. The horror on his face when he felt his elbow collide with your head was something he never felt before. He immediately caught you before you fell to the ground, letting out a panicked string of apologies. The tears that left your eyes and rolled down your cheeks crushed him. He was the cause of your pain and that destroyed him. Picking you up bridal style, he carried you outside and into his car, rushing back to get your bags. Jungkook drove you to see a doctor right away. His heart tore open again when the doctor let you both know that the incident had resulted in a concussion. From that moment on, for a long time, he treated you as if you were a fragile glass sculpture.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Kicho's Main Story

Episode 0

What was Kicho thinking and doing before he met you?

Man dressed in black: "You're Nobunaga's vassal! Prepare yourself!"

Klink!

Kicho: "Guh!"

Kicho swiftly dodged the attacker's blows as soon as he saw him and picked up a nearby sword.

Kicho: "Back off. I have no intention of dying in a place like this."

Man dressed in black: "What are y―"

Kicho quickly adjusted his stance and slashed at the man with the same force.

His style of swordsmanship was rough and overwhelmingly fast, leading to a quick victory.

Swoosh!

Man dressed in black: "Guh!"

With a splatter of blood, the man dressed in black collapsed to the floor.

Kicho: "Well then."

As he shook off the blood dripping on the blade, he looked back and saw that the owner of this sword had already died.

(This guy must be Nobunaga's vassal.)

(And the one who attacked me thought I was also Nobunaga's vassal.)

The realization came to him as he felt the burning heat on his skin that this building, though engulfed in flames, was familiar to him.

Kicho: "No doubt. This is the Honnoji Incident of 1582."

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

(I've made it this far.)

Kicho: *sigh*

Leaning against a tree, Kicho took a deep breath.

The reason he had been feeling sick earlier was not due to the countless battles he went through to get out of Honnoji Temple but something else.

He clucked his tongue at the memory burning in his mind.

(Just remembering it makes me sick.)

(But as long as I have this memory, I'll never lose my way.)

He turned around and looked up at the black smoke rising into the sky, seemingly burning away the stars in the night sky.

Upon seeing the unending strife in this turbulent world, he narrowed his hazel-green eyes.

(Tonight, Nobunaga will die in defeat, and Japan will once again enter a new era of change.)

(And then―)

Kicho: "I need to move quickly."

One month later―

Kicho: "Nobunaga is alive?"

Kicho's subordinate 1: "Yes, I have solid proof."

(You mean some force has changed history?)

(I see. To think it would be this easy is a blunder on my part.)

Kicho's subordinate 1: "Also, I have removed all servants, as you ordered."

Kicho: "I see. Thank you for your hard work."

Kicho's subordinate 1: "Are you sure about this? Some requested to stay here."

Kicho: “No need. I don’t think they will last after seeing their masters being driven out like that.”

Kicho’s subordinate 1: “Yes, sir. Then, please check this.”

Kicho’s subordinate 1: “I have summarized the results of my findings on the recruits.”

Kicho: “Sobei and Yoroku? I see. It’s even more suspicious to see that there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Kicho’s subordinate 1: “We’ll monitor them. Is that all right?”

Kicho: “Yeah, I’ll leave it to you.”

Kicho’s subordinate 1: “Understood.”

A voice called out to him as soon as his subordinate bowed and left.

Kicho’s subordinate 2: “Lord Kicho, your guest has arrived.”

(He’s here?)

Kicho: “Let him in.”

Kicho’s subordinate 2: “Yes, sir.”

His subordinate left and later returned with a dark-skinned man.

Shojumaru: “Nice to meet you, Kicho. My name is Shojumaru. You already know I’m a trader, right?”

Kicho: “Yeah, I’ve already done some digging.”

Shojumaru: “Digging? I’m not into some shady stuff like that, you know? Though, I bet you found nothing.”

Kicho: “Yeah, except for this.”

Shojumaru's eyebrows twitched as Kicho pulled something out of his pocket and placed it on the table in front of him.

Shojumaru: "That is a dangerous thing to have."

Kicho: "I should say those words right back to you."

Kicho: "This is a good one. Is it the same type as the one in your pocket?"

Shojumaru: "Yeah, it's for self-defense. In my line of work, I often get myself in trouble."

Kicho: "It doesn't matter what you intend to carry. You are required to leave your weapons with us during business meetings like this."

Shojumaru: "............."

After a moment's pause, Shojumaru took it from his pocket and laid it next to the pistol on the table.

Kicho: "I knew it."

Kicho: "I've already done my research. I know who you are and what you've been up to."

Kicho: "I didn't expect a dead man to be alive. Motonari Mouri."

Motonari: "If you know that much, there's no need to make things up."

Motonari: "So, what do you want from me? You're the guy who was in Oda, right?"

Motonari: "I heard someone had taken over this trading post, so I checked it out, and then baam! You, a crazy bastard, popped out."

Kicho: "That's all in the past now. I have no intention of going back there."

Motonari: "Even though Nobunaga survived Honnoji?"

Kicho: "All the more reason to do so."

(I can use what that man has built up.)

(If a single stone could overturn even the life and death of a person, then―)

Kicho: "If done well, it will be the spark that shakes this turbulent world."

Motonari: "............."

Motonari: "So that's what you mean. Then let's start negotiating right away."

Motonari: "If our interests are aligned, we can negotiate a deal in one shot."

Kicho: "Yeah."

Baam!

Guy: "Guh! Ah..."

Kicho: "No hard feelings. I'll get rid of anyone who gets in my way."

(All for the greater good.)

Kicho put away his pistol as he looked down at the man who had fallen to the ground.

(I guess this is the last of the spies we released in Azuchi Castle.)

(This new information is hardly useful at all.)

(The culprit behind the Honnoji incident. And recently taken into the castle, associated with Oda―)

Kicho: "-----!"

He collided with someone as he continued down a back alley and onto a busy street.

Mai: "Ah! Sorry! I couldn't see anything in front of me..."

Kicho: "It's fine. More importantly, your stuff. You're carrying too much for you to see the road ahead."

Mai: "I think I bought a little too much. I should've planned it better."

(It's a lot, but not the amount you'd expect.)

Mai: "Anyway, I'm glad you're not hurt. I'm really sorry. Well, bye!"

Kicho: "What? Hey, wait!"

He almost reached out his hand.

In hostile territory, one should not try to stand out, even if it’s a bustling place where people’s lives blend.

(This is just a temporary peace.)

(Soon, it will all come crashing down, and everyone will despair.)

(But it's a necessary sacrifice. I'm willing to become a demon for the sake of the cause.)

Kicho: "I will leave everything behind and move on to greater heights."

Kicho: "This is why I returned to this turbulent world."

What will decide the outcome of this war-torn world? A twisted justice or an unshakable love?

This winter, you will reach the wounds of the demon.

➢ Main Story Translation