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2ndkaiser · 1 month ago

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could you do post crash reader relationship headcanons please. The reader is doing their best to keep him alive and is planning jimmys downfall and saving everyone in the tulpar crew and being ready to file a big lawsuit against pony express

𖦹 POST-CRASH CURLY X GN!READER ONESHOT

Of course I can. This prompt was fun to work with, hope this satisfies your request.

Word count: 990

Contains: Oneshot, angst with comfort, Curly x GN!reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, violence, Curly’s trauma

⟡ ݁₊ . Notes: Assumed that Curly is reader’s husband. Please message me if I left out any warnings.

BEYOND THE STARS, BENEATH THE LIES

The only sounds that seem to occupy the ship these days were the soft, robotic screeches coming from the doors. The Tulpar — where you once sat in the lounge with the crew, in front of the artificial sunset chatting away — now, devoid of that sense of familiarity.

Never would you expect this to happen. Never. Your husband, Captain Curly, crashed the ship? How could such a selfless man suddenly abandon everything he stood for and transform into the root of the threat to the whole crew? It didn’t add up a single bit.

Your feet carried you along the corridor, heels dragging across the cold floor beneath as you became lost in thought.

The same robotic sound of the door you started to feel sick of signaled the medbay’s door opening — opening to your sweet Curly. You weren’t even focused anymore, the only thing inhabiting your brain was Jimmy. It felt so off. He felt off.

A low cry escaped the teeth of the former captain in front of you, reminding what you initially came here for.

“Hey sweetheart,”

You knew he couldn’t respond, but that didn’t change anything. He was still Curly. The Curly you knew. The Curly who would never even think of committing such an act.

“How’re you holding up Curls?” You shot him a gentle smile, although you already knew it wasn’t near possible for him to ‘hold up well’.

It was evident his pain was heightened, judging by the wails he let out, it has been approximately 8 hours since he took painkillers, but in your presence his noises slowly died down into quiet whimpers.

“Let me take care of you, yeah? I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

It was a time-consuming task — gently pressing the painkiller down his throat, using water to help it go down, carefully removing the blood-soaked bandages and disinfecting each part of his body, replacing the bandages with tender precision, and making sure his eyes didn’t dry out. The shortage of bandages weighed on your mind, adding to the growing worry in your chest. The process usually took over an hour, and every movement had to be precise, every action gentle. But none of that mattered. You’d do anything — anything at all — to keep Curly alive.

Following the now-silent whimpers, you noticed that Jimmy was still residing in your head. His presence felt so off-putting. But you knew that Curly wanted Jimmy on this ship. That was what he stated. But at this moment, you couldn’t help but sense that your husband wanted the opposite of that right now.

You could see it. After Jimmy started to feed Curly his pills instead of Anya, you couldn’t help but notice how suppressed his cries had become — not to mention — the first time Jimmy fed him his painkillers, it sounded like Curly’s cries turned into loud weeps, pleading for mercy.

Seeing your husband in pain was unbearable.

“Curly, my love,”

Curly’s azure gaze which now appeared to be fading in colour due to the lack of eyelids, studied your expression.

In a hushed tone, you hesitantly asked, “Does Jimmy hurt you?”

His sapphire eyes stuttered then flickered left, it was the only way for you two to communicate right now, you established this method after acknowledging his inability to voice his thoughts, and this way he could ‘speak’ by moving the only part of his body he could: his eyes. Left signaled yes, right for no.

Yes. Yes you’re beloved Curly was being tormented. Yes you have failed to recognize Jimmy’s abusive behavior. Yes you have failed to protect him.

You couldn’t even pinpoint what you were feeling at that moment. Fury, regret, shame, sorrow — and the strongest of them all: guilt. Each emotion is blurry and indistinguishable from the others.

It felt like your brain was in a completely static state, unoccupied with thoughts, replaced with heightened emotions. How could this be?

You weren’t that ignorant, were you?

“I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry, Curly… I—” Your voice cracked, the weight of the words too much to bear. “I didn’t see it—didn’t understand until it was too late. I failed you. I failed us. I’m such a terrible person. I—” You gasped for breath, hands shaking as you gripped the edge of the bed, regret swimming in your irises. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen…”

Your voice broke into a whisper, barely audible. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I wish I could undo everything. I wish everything was reversible.”

The cold metal edge of the bed rested against your forehead, as if it was attempting to cool your head. As your body was engulfed in a sickening feeling, the gentle touch of a brief graze caused you to jolt, lifting your face up to see your lover, aiming to nuzzle his face into your hair as a sign of forgiveness and longing. A tear streamed down his cheek which you could only imagine was stinging severely.

“Listen to me, honey, I swear I’ll get us to safety. I’ll figure this out, I promise. We’ll make it home—together. We’ll leave Jimmy behind, let the police deal with him. He won’t ever hurt you again. I won’t let him. I’ll make sure of it. You’re not alone in this. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll sue this goddamn company, get the money we need, and start fresh. A new life, far away from all of this. No one, not even that… that unhinged maniac, will be able to get to us. Not ever again. I swear on everything, Curls, I’ll protect you. We’ll make it through this, I promise, okay?”

Another whimper left his throat, only this time, the whimper was more of a hum. A hum of agreement and comfort — and with that, his eyes flickered left again.

Finally finished, hope this is up to standard for a one-shot. Genuinely, I don’t know if this was what you were looking for but I’m hoping it is. Apologies if it isn’t.

Sorry for inconsistent uploads, I’m most likely going to posting slowly for a few weeks since I’m not exactly the freest man. Farewell.

#captain curly #curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing wrong organ #grant curly #curly mouthwashing x reader #captain curly x reader #curly x reader #post crash curly

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muntitled · 6 months ago

Text

Headlines & Headaches

-' Spiderman!Jake x Fem!Reader

-' Summary: All he did was make you worry and for that... You'd make him pay.

-' Warnings: Established Relationship, Loser!Jake, Language, Violence, Bruises, Slight Angst, Fluff, Spiderman AU, Mentions of Shootings, Jealousy, Weaponizing!Heeseung, Drinking, Smut (+18) mdni, Grinding, Dirty Talk, Dom/Sub Themes, Cunnilinghus, Fingering, Degradation Kink, Make Up sex

You are dreadfully aware of every single millisecond that passes without you by his side. While the seconds bleed into nanoseconds, it introduces a new string of endless possibilities that may or may not occur while Jake is out.

Everything that would and could go wrong.

Imaginations of Jake being subject to wayward punches and stray bullets ran through your head like a freight train.

The boy was clumsy enough to get bitten by a radioactive spider for God's sake. He is quite literally drawn to disaster.

Perhaps you would have found it attractive if it was not the bane of your very existence.

"I think this is why I'm attracted to you." Jake had said absentminedly the previous night. "You fuss over me way too much, and I like it way too much, and that says more about me than it does you."

"Please don't move too much, I'm almost done-" his big doe eyes bore dangerously into yours while you concluded stitching a wound on the side of his face. Thankfully, it had been a shallow laceration, but it still punctured a nasty rip in his mask.

"I also really like it when you yell at me, or like scold me really softly. It gets me excited."

You ignore his giggles, sighing while your heart panged at the bruises scattered across his face.

"Does that mean I have mommy issues, Miss Psychologist?"

Another sigh automatically unsheathed itself from your lungs as you pressed a disinfected cotton ball to his cheek and watched him wince. "I'm not a psychologist-"

"Yet." Said Jake.

"Yet." You nodded, "And you know I don’t believe in any of Freud's incest logic."

"Fuck," Jake cursed under his breath, which you intially thought was from wound repair but you quickly found out was from something else.

"You're so smart," he had affirmed with wide, soaped over eyes.

"You're quite literally studying biochemistry which is far better than my silly little psychology degree."

"And humble too!? I think I'm in love!" Jake was quick to grab ahold of your wrist.

"Jake, let me finish-"

Before you could even think, he placed your palm directly on the bulge that had grown underneath his suit, "I need you, okay? Baby, I always need you," while his eyes fluttered shut, mumbling "my pretty girl," under his breath, you had been completely and utterly spellbound by his use of the word 'need'. You were pleasantly surprised at how affected you were by the notion that your outrageously smart, charismatic and not to mention literally powerful boyfriend could ever really 'need' someone like you. 'Want' is okay. 'Want' is safe and free of complexities and obligations but 'need' extended far beyond letting him fuck you as senseless as he did last night...

But the worry was a neverending story. It hit you simultaneously - multiple little televisions streaming every possible kind of disaster all at once. Everything that might happen while Jake is out saving Seoul, potentially needing you and you not being there.

Even the deafening blare of the music leaking out of mysterious speakers failed to keep all the dreaded inevitabilities at bay. With a solo cup of soju in one hand and your phone in the other, you opt to gaze down at your phone quivering visciously in your hand. The minimal amount of alcohol floating in your bloodstream does little to hinder your functionality as you refresh the chat.

Jake's contact detail attached to a cute little picture of him stuffing his face with sushi sends a viscious pang to your heart as you sit robotically on the end of the smokers couch, nestled under a cloud of perfume and cannabis. Around you, a feverish game of truth or dare has befallen with people on the adjacent couch but your mind is elsewhere.

In Jake's business, death would be inevitable. All that matters is the final message you sent. One that he failed to respond to.

[22:36] Check in, Spider.

To which he would allay your troubles by swiftly and quickly responding with:

[22:38] checking in

Always without the improper punctuation as if to let you know he was currently very busy swinging about high rises.

This time however, he failed to check in and you're left stranded in the living room of a house party in Hongdae, with no actual clue as to where in the city your boyfriend had found himself.

"I'm sure your nerd boyfriend doesn't need you to smother him all the time," it was the drunken slurs of a fellow classmate, who's grating words succeed in peeling your eyes away from your screen momentarily.

"You're not his mother." Said Heeseung with a grossly charismatic smirk, only for you to stab him with the deadliest glare you can muster. Your jaw is locked, and your phone is suffocating in your iron grip.

"And I'm sure you didn't need to smother your hair in so much hair gel, but alas, we can't all have nice things."

Ignoring the hum of praise for your rebuttal, you press send on the second message:

[23:11] This party sucks... please check in.

"Instead of wallowing all by yourself, you could actually try to have some fun. Perhaps loosen yourself up in the process?" Heeseung sits way too close, his side, pressing into your side without a lick of space to separate you too, but the space lessens to an even bigger degree as he leans sideways. Your head is fixed on your lap as his lips brush past your ear with the unmistakable hint of soju wafting against your neck. "Truth or dare."

"What?" You ask, utterly discombobulated, having seemingly forgotten where you are. Heeseung’s Cheshire cat grin is unwavering as he asks, "Truth or-"

"Oh shit- someone top the volume!"

Almost like clockwork, a sea of gasps settle amongst the other patrons congesting the living room. You send Heeseung a furrowed brow to look at the tv past his grinning face, only to be immediately met with an utterly nauseating scene splashed across national television. The news anchors' tone of voice robs the scene of its devastation.

"Patrons say the shootout which occured only moments before in the crowded streets of Itaewon could have been an 'unmistakable act of terror' were it not for the friendly neighborhood Spiderman who appeared just in time to rid the gunman of his bullets. Witnesses are in awe of the Spiderman's innate, superhuman reflexes which allowed him to-"

You fail to keep the panic from exploding onto your face as the news anchor drones on and on in the background. Around you, your classmates make a quip or two before quickly losing interest. This is nothing new.

"Anyway," Says Heeseung, "Truth or Dare?"

But you feel utterly sick to your stomach with the notion that Jake flew blindly in between an open crowd and a loaded gun. Heroism be damned, what would any of it mean if he ended up fucking dead? Your boyfriend had the capacity to flood your entire brain, therefore prompting Heeseung to repeat his question.

"Princess? Truth or Dare-"

You realize then that you are dreadfully obsessive. Always fearing your partner may fulfill the inevitable and get hurt and leave you. You couldn't bare to live in your own skin if you turned out to be something that Jake left behind...

"Dare." The voice immediately has you snapping your head away from the tv. Everything happens at once. It is as if the sun is peeking through the crowds, bathing you in unforgettable light as you look up to find the one man you've been searching for all night. Your mouth hangs open as Jake sits directly beside you on the armrest of the couch. Dressed in a cool and comfortable long sleeve shirt, as boyish as ever. As normal as ever.

His body heat immediately restores a once thirsty, inexplicable part of your soul, rendering you a muted mess.

"Shit was crazy," Says Jake, pointing vaguely at the screen of the television, before looking back down at you with sly smile on his lips, "Or so I hear."

His gaze is unwavering as he pushes his thick rimmed glasses further up his nose. Your eyes are restlessly taking all of him in. Scanning every crevice of his face for any unfamiliar bruise while assessing the state of his perfectly imperfect state of curly black hair. No signs of his double life.

"Sorry bro," says Heeseung, effectively breaking the spell between the two of you. Jake very begrudgingly removes his eyes from the side of your head before looking at Heeseung, who says, "You've got to wait your turn-"

Jake practically whines out loud, as petulant as a child when he throws his head back and says, "Can't you just dare her to fuck me? She is my girlfriend..."

"Interesting," Heeseung responds as slick as silver, "We all pegged you as a virgin type, way to prove us wrong."

Jake leans forward, his fingers drawing odd circles on your shoulder as he says to Heeseung, "You fucking-"

"Give my turn to someone else!" You rush to interject before Jake embarrassed himself in front of your entire department. When did he have the time to consume alcohol because he certainly is not sober?

You're bombarded by a flurry of conflicting emotions as you secure your hand around Jake's wrist and drag him through the party and up the stairs. Your face is utterly muddled as you try to sieve through your emotions of anger at him for ignoring your messages and for having to be a superhero. All the while, Jake lets you pull his him away, a lazy smile dancing on his face as he signals a thumbs up to passersby.

It is only when you're in the confines of the homeowners guest room that you're able to hear yourself think beyond the humdrum of hip hop music. Your head pounds with the force of your emotion and you're quick to pull Jake inside, before pushing him against the slamming door.

"Don't throw me around, I'll cum," He whines petulantly, melting into the door before squeezing his eyes shut. You give him a murderous glare as you crowd him against the door.

"No message back, Jaeyun!? You're utterly unbelievable-"

"And you're utterly gorgeous. Is this a new dress?" You slap away his hand away skimming the lining of your lace mini dress - an outfit you would've liked him to appreciate at the beginning of the night, before you found out he ditched you in favor of psychotic lunatics.

"All I ask of you is to follow through with checking in! Message me! Even if it's a freaking full stop or an emoji! Even if you're not in a position to type out a full sentence - which is complete and utter bullshit by the way, I've seen you and your high-rise selfies." You're unaware that Jake's slightly tipsy mind is flooded with nothing but lust and adrenaline from yet another successful day of protecting his city. He's swimming in the high of gratitude, which only multiplied once he got to lay eyes on you and your black dress, your slightly drunken hooded eyes, and your glossy, lined lips. Lips that are very firmly cursing him the hell out. He really tries to be a proactive listener and take your scolding but it once again goes straight to his dick, and his hooded eyes drift from your eyes, to your lips, to the warmth of your, to your unmarked neck, to-

"Are you seriously staring at my tits right now!?"

He immediately snaps his head up to you, inadvertently pulling you close towards him until your front was flush against his front. "Let me suck on them please- I've missed you so, so much today."

You could feel your defenses waning. A boyfriend like Jake was a dangerous thing to have, especially since he harbored the power to distract you so easily from your anger. Your mind is fuzzy as Jake lowers his lips into the crook of your neck while his fingers make careful contact with the skin of your thigh.

"Missed hearing your voice, criminals are no fun." He murmurs into your neck, already sporting that needy little of tone of voice that he knew would always succeed in getting you wet. "Missed hearing you, and smelling you," his lips drift against your neck, spraying warm kisses along your collar as a distraction from his hand slipping further up your skirt...

"Do you know how boring it actually is, half the time? I still have to make police feel like they're actually doing something so some moments I'm just perched on high rises, left to my thoughts" He presses a kiss to the supple flesh of your cleavage spilling out of the dress' neckline, "Do you know what I think about, pretty girl?"

You shake your head. You're only really aware of Jake's hands settled on your hip under the skirt of the dress as he lifts himself from your neck. There is a small smile on his lips as he is now the one pushing you backwards.

"I think about you. I think about kissing you," his voice is airy and teasing, "I think about hugging you," the back of your knees connect with the edge of the double bed which he effortlessly pushes you down on, "I think about smelling you, and feeling you and fucking you," Jake's movements bleed into urgency, at having you splayed on the bed. His hands are restless on your body as he lifts your skirt to push your underwear to the side, unable to divulge anymore time to undressing. He kneels his tall frame on the ground as he pulls your thighs towards the edge of the bed. Your knees are framing his face and he looks at you from between your shaking legs.

"P-Please, Jake..." all your anger and all your sensibilities have all melted away in the wake of your boyfriend blowing teasingly against your exposed core. The very sight of how utterly drenched you are sends Jake into a frenzy.

"Fuck, babe. Don't beg like that- I told you, you're gonna make me cum."

He is unable to keep his gaze off your glistening cunt and the arousal that he spreads against your inner thighs.

"F-Fuck I need to taste you-" serves as your one and only warning before he lowers his lips to your clit. You scream into the air, back arching off the covers as Jake sticks his tongue out and begins to lap furiously as your vagina. He encircles a large hand around your thigh, securing your pussy firmly against your lips with no escape. You're left to endure his needy whimpering as he kisses your cunt with absolute fervour.

"F-Fuck, I- I think it's too much-" You attempt to pull away yet again but this boy is strong and very fucking needy and he refuses to let you get away from his lips suctioning your cunt while his tongue delved inside...

Your hips immediately grind your pussy further against him, only eliciting a whorish moan from him before he quickly rises. His curls bounce as he nods profusely, "Fuck, yes, baby... use my mouth okay? Please, please, please-" by the third 'please' he's attached his lips to your pussy once more, brain utterly flooded with lust and satisfaction at the feeling of your hips pushing against his face. Your movements have him nosing your cunt, evoking another strained moan from you - a moan so dirty and slutty, is has him automatically bumping his bulge against the bedpost to rhythm of his tongue moving in and out of you.

"Are you going to cum for me, Pretty Girl?" He asks, swiftly replacing his tongue with his fingers which slide so easily into your slippery cunt it had him grinding further into the bed. "Fuck- you're taking my fingers so well, baby!" His glasses fog up and clear in intervals as he nears his releases. He honestly doesn't know whether to watch how your face contorts into the glory of your orgasm or whether to watch your cunt swallow his fingers.

"You're gonna cum by humping my fingers, aren't you baby?" He more so tells himself, egging his impending orgasm along with a slow, nod while his fingers spear in and out of your pussy.

"F-Fuck, I think I'm cumming-"

You're most certainly cumming a nanosecond later, and the sight of your parted lips and the sound of your words have Jake whining into the air before melting into his own orgasm from rutting against the bed. His head melts in between your legs, while he completely makes out with your cunt and his fingers continue to fuck you through your orgasm. Your body is floating.

Gone are the worries.

Gone is the sliver of anger.

You're vaguely aware that this might have been Jake's plan all along, but you can not even bring yourself to be angry. Not when he is delivering such sincere kisses on your quivering, aching cunt.

"What the heck are you doing?" You ask, panting heavily as you watch your boyfriend be so utterly transfixed by your vagina, he's taken to whispering to it.

"I think she wants me to cum inside her next time. She's saying you should go on the pill-"

You muster enough energy to roll your eyes before saying, "take your fingers out of me-"

"But I like having my fingers inside of you-"

"Jake-"

"And I'm sorry, okay?" He lowers his head to press a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, "I'm sorry for not responding to your message. I promise to check in. Always."

There is no stopping your heart from melting, especially not when he is around.

"Okay," you say with a shaky breathe, "I believe you,"

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen headcanons #enhypen hard hours #enha x reader #enha fluff #jake sim smut #jake sim x reader #jake smut #jake x reader #jake sim #sim jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun x reader #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #sim jaeyun #jaeyun x reader

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pretzel-box · 5 months ago

Text

PROLOGUE: WELCOME TO URBANSHADE

Word count: 3,3k

Tags: GN!reader, Graphic mention of surgery and experiments on a human body

Summary: You get hired by Urbanshade, thanks to your father, but every start has its obstacles. And some obstacles might feel deeper than they should be.

The time on the wall clock showed it was just a few minutes past noon. Warm sunlight gently crept into the waiting room through the tall panoramic windows of the building. A quick glance to the side, catching a glimpse of the clock, was enough to tell you that it would still be a few moments before it was time to move from the comfort of the leather chair you were currently sitting on. Your freshly disinfected hands clung nervously to your phone as you swiftly scrolled through the list of contacts you had saved over time. You were so focused that it startled you slightly when another caller ID popped up on the bright screen, displaying the picture of your father's face.

This particular man had called you a lot lately, sticking his nose into your business after you dared to ask him for a tiny favor, hoping he would help since you are his beloved only child. But one thing you didn't expect from him at that specific moment was that he would take the opportunity to call you, considering that he was somewhere on the ocean.

He works as a high-class businessman, primarily sponsoring a company called Urbanshade. You didn't know much about them, but your dad mentioned something about how they specialize in underwater mining with some high-tech inventions. This explained his temporary stay on one of Urbanshade's ships, where they were testing and showcasing another new underwater mining robot of some sort, called Trenchbleeder. Your dad had funded the whole project over the past few months, so he was more than excited to see how his money was being put to good use.

"Did they call you yet?" Despite the slight static, the seagulls, and the waves in the background, you could make out the strict tone in his voice. Of course, he was curious. You had asked your dad if he knew someone who would hire you, his child. And naturally, the first thing he applied you for was a position at one of Urbanshade's research facilities. They weren't really looking for new employees in the first place, but your dad was very close to the higher-ups, so he bought the job for you. The fact that he paid the company to hire you made your stomach twist in discomfort, but it was too late to turn back and say no. "I risked a lot by doing that for you."

He referred to the payment he had made on your behalf, and you could feel the pressure he had placed on your shoulders.

You nodded, even though your dad couldn't see it over the phone. "I'm at their building, sitting in the waiting room. We're signing the contract today." You tried to sound confident, but you knew your dad could see right through your facade. "They should be calling me into the office soon."

Your name was called loudly through the room before your dad could reply, and he would probably have given you another warning not to mess it up for his reputation's sake. "Sorry, Dad, it's time."

You ended the call with a swift push of the red button, putting your phone on mute so nothing would distract you during the meeting with one of the higher-ups at Urbanshade. The lady at the reception told you where to go, and another employee guided you to a glass room, where a middle-aged man in an expensive-looking suit was seated. His arms were crossed, and the way he scanned your application papers made your stomach turn.

The man must have noticed your little stare from the other side of the glass wall because he looked up from the file, and it wasn't hard to miss the coy smile on his lips. The previous expression on his face was quickly replaced with a more welcoming one. "Ah, we finally meet. Your father has already told me a good deal about you."

"I am grateful for the opportunity to work for your company, Mr. Wiltshire." First impressions count, especially at a company like Urbanshade. So you took the opportunity to present yourself in the best possible light, even if it meant pretending to be something you're not—in this case, motivated and interested. Your hand almost raised itself to offer a polite and respectful handshake.

"I assure you, we are the ones who are honored to welcome you to our team. Welcome to Urbanshade."

A few months passed after Urbanshade recruited you, and it didn't take long for you to get the hang of all the small details involved in your job at the luxurious office—details like how the overpriced coffee machine worked, how to sort the endless stacks of paper files, and even how to avoid getting on your new boss's bad side. At this point, you'd even admit it feels like being a well-paid version of an intern since your higher-ups only trusted you with minor tasks so far.

Despite the simplicity and comfort of the tasks, you volunteered more than once for harder assignments, showing your most motivated side in the hope of getting a little more action in your otherwise boring life. But every single time, Mr. Wiltshire blocked you off with a polite smile and a shake of his head. "You're not ready yet."

It was frustrating; you felt there was more behind it than just a lack of skills, but you couldn't force your way into the deeper levels of the job without risking ruining it all for yourself.

A high-pitched female voice suddenly pulled you out of your regular daydreams, making you aware that you were indeed not alone at the moment. "Ah, look who's here!" Your black-haired co-worker beamed at you with the fakest smile you had ever seen, making you raise your eyebrow slightly. The action didn't go unnoticed by her, and you could feel her sharp acrylic nails digging uncomfortably into your left shoulder. "Be a sweetheart," she started again, leaning in from behind and speaking directly into your ear, "and take care of my files too, alright?" She no longer tried to hide her snarky tone and instead showed you her true nasty attitude. "We don't want Mr. Wiltshire to see how much you slack off at work, right, hon?" The pain slowly disappeared as she lifted her hand from your shoulder, wiping it off on her expensive business blazer. A glance over your shoulder to meet her gaze was enough.

Her smug smile hit a nerve deep inside you, but you swallowed your newfound anger like the smarter person and just nodded without a word. In the end, it wasn't worth the drama, and maybe you could use the opportunity to score some extra credit points with your boss if he saw you doing some well-executed extra work.

The fake woman left the moment you tried to open your mouth to give her a straightforward answer, leaving you behind like some worthless object in the middle of the office. By this point, it wasn't really offensive to you since you strongly disliked that woman for her weird attitude toward you, and every second without her was surely a good second. After watching her leave and get into the elevator at the end of the hall, you turned around too and slowly made your way to the coffee machine in the plain break room, pouring yourself a nice cup of dark liquid into your favorite mug. You would surely need it if you had to put in some extra hours to get the work done. With newfound motivation, you left the room and headed to your co-worker's personal office.

It was a neat space inside a glass room, furnished with minimalist-style furniture and a nice office chair made of quality leather. Some of the woman's personal items were scattered across the mahogany table, and your lips curled up as you felt the smooth surface of the table, thinking you could earn one of those fancy offices yourself if you worked hard enough.

Then you saw the stack of brown files on the table. It was in an unacceptable, messy state, with paper corners sticking out from all sides and some mysterious stains on the front covers. Yet, the weirdly pleasant smell of cigarettes and old paper hit your nose, filling you with a strange, comforting feeling all over again. Your eyes also didn't fail to notice the bright yellow note on the stack, with a hastily written message in black ink:

"Please sort by Thursday night. Return Z-13 file to higher-up when done."

Reading it gave you a sudden boost of excitement, seeing that there must be an interesting file usually in the hands of higher-ranked people. You didn't question it but rather saw it as an opportunity to dive deeper into the business that Urbanshade conducts, sensing a way to escape the boring intern tasks and join them on the front lines, maybe even leading a mining operation in the exciting underwater world.

Your hands took the small note from the files, discarding it without a care into the bin, assuming your co-worker was aware of it since she knew about the work the files required. It was another simple job of sorting papers and making sure everything was in its place before returning them to the basement archives below the building.

The warm, rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee replaced the smell in the small office as you took a careful sip from your favorite mug. The dark liquid was the only thing keeping you grounded amidst the tension of the day. Your fingers traced the rim of the warm cup absentmindedly as you scanned the chaotic stack of files on the mahogany desk.

Determined to make a good impression by sorting through the files with precision, you placed your mug at the edge of the desk, within easy reach. You started to carefully separate the documents, making piles according to their categories, when your mind began to wander.

You reached for another file, but just as you were about to grab it, your elbow knocked against your mug. Time seemed to slow as you watched in horror as the mug tipped over, spilling hot coffee across the desk. The dark liquid cascaded like a wave, soaking the neatly sorted papers in seconds.

"No, no, no!" you gasped, frantically grabbing at the files, trying to salvage what you could. But it was too late—the coffee had already seeped into most of the pages, leaving large brown stains that spread and blurred the ink in matter of seconds. The once crisp documents were now soggy and wrinkled, some of the text smearing into an illegible mess.

Your heart pounded as you stared at the ruined files. A wave of panic surged through you. These weren’t just any papers; they were official documents, meant to be returned to the higher-ups. And that one file—about something called Z-13—it was supposed to go directly to someone important. You remembered the note and its simple instructions, now crumpled in the waste bin, and felt a sinking dread.

Grabbing a handful of napkins from the small break room drawer, you desperately tried to blot the coffee from the papers, but the evidence of your mistake would be painfully clear, no matter how hard you tried to save the files. The edges of some files were curling up, the ink bleeding out, and some of the pages were beyond saving. The more you wiped, the worse it seemed to get.

You slumped into the leather chair, your hands trembling as you stared at the coffee-stained disaster in front of you. What would Mr. Wiltshire say? Worse, what would your father think if he found out? The pressure to prove yourself, to show that you were capable of handling the job, suddenly felt crushing.

With a deep breath, you tried to calm your racing thoughts. There had to be a way to fix this. Maybe you could reprint the damaged documents, or perhaps there were backups somewhere in the archives. You needed a plan, and fast. But first, you had to get rid of the evidence of your mistake—before anyone saw the mess you had made.

Forcing yourself to think clearly, you carefully gathered the soaked files, praying that you could come up with a solution before anyone found out about the spill. And then you saw it, the important file with big red letters on the cover, slightly drenched in warm coffee. The damage seemed to be at a visible minimum, making you slightly relax despite all the panic in your body.

Your finger traced over the paper cover before picking the file up from the messy table. It was slightly heavy, and as you felt the weight of the file in your hands, a ripple of curiosity surged through you. You hesitated for a moment, wondering what kind of secrets might be concealed within these pages. But the urge to know won out, and you carefully opened the front cover, revealing a neatly typed summary that seemed to offer a glimpse into the contents of the file.

The first thing that caught your eye was a series of police reports, meticulously detailed and organized, each one stamped with the official seal of Urbanshade. They were followed by a set of photographs, their glossy surfaces reflecting the dim light of the room. The first image you saw was a clear mugshot of a young man. His face was striking, not in the sense of beauty, but in the way it conveyed a deep weariness, as if the weight of the world had been pressing down on him for far too long. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and they censored his eyes, leaving them to your imagination.

His expression was a frown in each of the photos, a look of quiet defiance mixed with something else—something that sent a strange sensation through your chest. It wasn’t pity, exactly, but a deep unease that you couldn’t quite place. There was a coldness in his expression, yet also a flicker of something more, something human and raw, buried beneath the layers of exhaustion and anger.

You turned the page, your fingers brushing over the edges of the police reports that followed. The papers were old, some of them yellowing with age, but the text was still clear. Your eyes skimmed the lines, taking in the grim details of a murder case that had been closed years ago. The words felt heavy, each sentence a stark reminder of the horror that had unfolded.

The reports detailed a series of brutal killings—nine victims in total. The descriptions were uncensored, each one more gruesome than the last. As you read, a chill ran down your spine. The level of violence, the cold, methodical nature of the crimes, it all painted a picture of someone deeply disturbed, someone with a darkness that ran far deeper than you could have imagined.

And there, at the center of it all, was the young man from the photos. His name was typed in bold letters at the top of the report: Sebastian Solace. The name seemed almost ironic—“Solace” suggesting peace or comfort, while the man it belonged to was associated with such unspeakable acts.

You stared at the name for a long moment, trying to reconcile the tired, defiant face in the photos with the monstrous deeds described in the reports. The file mentioned psychological evaluations, interviews, and even some speculation about his motives, but none of it seemed to add up. There was a note in the margin, scrawled in a hurried hand, suggesting that the case was far from closed, despite what the official records stated.

A photo paperclipped to the back of the file caught your attention—a grainy image of a dark, empty room. The caption underneath simply read, „Day of Execution“ The picture showed the electric chair that they used in Solace his execution, but any sign of his presence was missing in it.

Then you turned the pages and the police reports changed into a large series of lab reports, endless lists of medication and a collection of pictures that left you in a nauseous state.

You read and read for what felt like hours, your eyes moving mechanically over the pages as the horrors of Sebastian Solace's life unfolded before you. Each detail seemed more grotesque than the last, painting a picture of a man who had been systematically stripped of his humanity. It wasn’t just the surgeries—those brutal, invasive operations where limbs were removed and reattached like parts of a machine. It was the utter disregard for the person he once was, the complete and total annihilation of his identity, his very soul.

The deeper you delved into the file, the more your hands began to tremble. You could feel your stomach churning as you flipped through page after page of graphic images and cold, clinical reports. The pictures were the worst—high-resolution photographs of Sebastian’s disfigured body, his skin pale and sickly under the harsh fluorescent lights of a laboratory. There were stitches crisscrossing his limbs, metal tools embedded in his flesh like cruel mockeries of life-saving instruments. His eyes—those once defiant, tired eyes—were vacant now, lifeless, as though the man he had once been was already dead.

Your breath hitched as you turned to a page detailing an experiment labeled "Procedure 17-C." The accompanying photograph showed a close-up of Sebastian's chest, where wires and tubes had been inserted into his heart, his blood replaced with a thick, unnatural fluid. The caption beneath it coldly described the experiment’s purpose—to test the viability of synthetic blood in deep-sea environments. The thought of what he had endured, of how much pain and suffering had been inflicted upon him in the name of science, made your vision blur with tears.

You forced yourself to continue reading, even as nausea clawed at your throat. The reports became increasingly more deranged, describing how Sebastian’s body had been treated like a puzzle, dismantled and reassembled in ways that defied all logic and ethics. The word "specimen" appeared frequently, a stark reminder that to his captors, Sebastian was nothing more than a test subject, an object to be used and discarded.

It was around page 35 that you couldn’t take it anymore. You shoved the file aside and staggered to the bin next to you, emptying the contents of your stomach. The bile burned your throat, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish in your heart. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, trying to steady your breathing, but the images lingered in your mind, imprinted there like a brand.

Sebastian Solace—the name now felt like a curse, a grim reminder of the horrors that could befall anyone who crossed paths with Urbanshade. And the Hadal Blackside... it was no longer just a place. It was a living nightmare, a twisted abyss where humanity was stripped away,

The weight of the file in your hands felt unbearable as you reluctantly picked it up again, your fingers trembling as you closed the cover. The secrets contained within were like a lead weight on your soul, pressing down on you with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. When you finally set the file back on the table, it was as though you were laying down a burden too great for any one person to bear.

But even as you tried to distance yourself from what you had just read, the haunted eyes of Sebastian Solace refused to leave you. They stayed with you, those hollow, lifeless eyes, staring back at you from the depths of your memory. They were a reminder that in the Hadal Blackside, there were things far more terrifying than the dark waters and the lurking creatures within. There might were men—once human, now monsters—who had been twisted by the same forces that now ensnared you.

You were tangled in their web now, caught in a nightmare from which there was no waking. And as you sat there, in the dim light of that office room, you realized that the true horror wasn’t what had been done to Sebastian. It was the knowledge that, in time, the same fate could await you, if someone found out what you saw.

#sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace #sebastian solace fanfiction #AsAboveSoBelow #sebastian solace fanfic #sebastian solace x gender neutral reader

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buildwithrobots · 1 year ago

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#uv disinfection robot

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shrimp-buffet · 11 months ago

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LARRY AND LAWRIE HEADCANNONS #2!!

Because holy crap the first one got so much positive attention- (again, headcannons after cut cuz I’m gonna yap for a sec)

Thanks to everyone who enjoyed the first one! It’s my most popular post ever and I’m glad it was so well received. I really hope this is a good follow up! Feel free to let me know if you want more Brawl Stars headcannons going forward cuz I’d be happy to make them.

Anyway it’s finally headcannon time!

Larry focused, Lawrie focused, Both

• Larry’s favorite music genre is literally elevator music (Lawrie likes rock!)

•Both of them hate the Cops theme song, they think it’s very annoying. Doesn’t help that park guest and other brawlers (*cough* Nita and Leon *cough*) tease them with it

• At first, Lawrie didn’t let Larry have a weapon since “they’re dangerous and you don’t need one” but Larry managed to craft his ticket wheel into an explosive weapon somehow and Lawrie was just too afraid/impressed to not let him have it

•They both live in the park’s security station. Specifically, Larry took an unused storage closet and made it into an actual little bedroom, while Lawrie just sleeps in their office (if they sleep at all)

•Lawrie collects bobble heads. They make him smile

•Larry really likes baking! Not to eat the sweet treats (since he can’t even if he wanted to), but he just loves the process of making them. He often bakes cookies with Pearl

•He has no clue that Pearl is related to the Gold Arm Gang somehow. They’ve seen her with them but it just somehow has never clicked and probably never will

•Lawrie does know, but they just think Pearl is harmless enough. The second any other Gold Arm member even gets close to Larry though, they’re ready to strike

•Larry is a hypochondriac even though he can’t even get sick. Lawrie is kinda similar, but they’re just a neat-freak. Either way, everywhere the two go is getting deep cleaned and disinfected

•Lawrie gets a ton of coloring books for R-T since they see R-T as like a little kid and don’t know what else to get them.

•Larry is really good at engineering, and makes elaborate “mouse trap” like contraptions to try and catch criminals. They also make little mini robots! Those don’t have any consciousness but he treat they like his children all the same

•Lawrie pretends they don’t like the little robots, but they will protect those little guys with their life if they have to

•Lawrie’s idea of “fun” is challenging Larry to little games that test their knowledge on all the parks rules (Don’t worry cuz Larry thinks it’s fun too)

•If you bring it up to them, both Larry and Lawrie the living embodiments of anti-smoking/drinking/gambling ads

•People will often sneak up behind Larry and put stickers on them to poke fun at him. He never notices until Lawrie takes them off. He keeps them in a sticker book because they think it means people like him

•No one puts any stickers on Lawrie because he’s just impossible to sneak up on and will punch someone if they try

•They own a cat! Larry found a little Calico kitten and went annoying little brother mode until Lawrie agreed to keep it

•Lawrie hated the idea of having an animal around, but much like a middle aged dad they’re now the one who spoils the cat the most

That’s it for now! Hope you liked it and thanks for reading this!! Again, show some love if you’d like more!

#brawl stars #brawl stars larry #brawl stars lawrie #larry and lawrie #brawl stars headcanons #headcannons #sequel

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rottenpumpkin13 · 5 months ago

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AGSZC who has the messier room? the cleanest?

Sephiroth and Genesis are the neat freaks of the bunch. Angeal is a compulsive cleaner, Cloud doesn't have a choice but to keep his space clean while he's in the army, and Zack is relatively clean and keeps his space organized....he just has his days. Like the time Angeal said he would inspect Zack's room as soon as he got back from his mission, but the room was no where near ready to be seen by human eyes.

*LOCATION: the land where organization goes do die, a.k.a Zack's bedroom*

Zack: Man, this is bad! Angeal comes back in three hours! How am I gonna get all this cleaned up by then??

Cloud: Relax. It's not even that bad.

Zack: Really?

Cloud: Totally. Lots of people have...a fort made out of pizza boxes, a deflated basketball used as a cereal bowl and....is that—is that a Sephiroth cardboard cutout tucked in your bed??

Zack: Shh, he's sleeping.

Cloud:

Cloud: Okay, there's no other way to do this. You need help.

Zack: I do.

Cloud: Which means we have to bring in experts to get the job done.

Zack: .....oh no....not THEM!

Cloud: Yes, them.

*Cloud opens the door*

Cloud: Oh good, you're here.

*Sephiroth and Genesis are standing there with cloths around their heads, surgical masks, yellow gloves, and all the cleaning supplies in the world*

Sephiroth: We heard there was bacterial growth.

Genesis: And uncleanliness.

Sephiroth, holding up his label maker: And objects that need to be organized, labeled and filed.

Genesis: And an opportunity to use my brand new disinfectant.

Zack: Wow, guys, I really appreciate this and all, but it's a heavy job. Are you sure you're willing to help without freaking out?

*They move inside the apartment*

Sephiroth: Nonsense, Zack. No job is too hard when it helps a friend.

Genesis: Yeah, and besides, it can't be that bad.

*Cloud opens the door to hell*

Genesis: OH MY GOD HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?

Sephiroth: THE Ḅ̂ͬ̐ͪ̑͌A͔̗͚͍͛̈̂̒͟͢͝ͅ_̵̡̰̫ͤͬͧ͟͟C̘̫͌̆ͦͧ͌̓̄̚T̴Ē̡̛͕͈͓̬̮̐ͩ̓̈ͥ͂͆ͧ̓ͫ͜R̵̡̡̳̩̻͍̠͍̫̙̥̗̻͙̼͉ͪ̏̅ͥͭ̈́͛̂̄́ͦ͗͛͂ͧͤ͊̕͡Í̶̸͕͎̮̩̤͍̹̻̬̩̂ͭͫ͌̀̏̇̇ͮ̇͋̄̀ͮͪͧ͠͞Á̘͈̝̉��̸̧̢̡̻͙̖͍͍̖ͮ̕͞ͅ

Zack: YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T FREAK OUT!

Genesis: We're not freaking out. This is....normal.

Zack: Really?

Sephiroth, walking inside the room: Yes, it's completely fine and healthy to not be able to see your own floor—*Sephiroth trips on broken bongos and face plants into a pile of stuffed animals*

Zack: Hey! My bongos! I was wondering where those went.

Genesis: See? We're organizing things already.

Sephiroth, resurfacing with a cat plushie: I'm taking this one as payment.

*Cloud is sweeping the floor next to a pile of dirty laundry. Suddenly the pile moves*

Cloud: ...

*The pile moves more*

Cloud, panicking: ...

*The pile moves towards Cloud*

*Cloud yells and starts beating the pile with his broomstick*

*Cait Sith jumps out of the pile*

Cloud: !?

Cait Sith: Oh-ho-ho!

*Cait Sith sprints away and out of the room, never to be seen again*

Cloud: What the heck??

Zack, coming up behind him: What?

Cloud: A strange, robot cat was in your laundry just now.

*Sephiroth walks up to the pile of laundry and takes it to be washed*

Zack: Cloud! Don't be mean! Sephiroth is only trying to help!

Cloud:

*Genesis opens Zack's closet door to clean, a skeleton dressed in a red leather coat and wig falls on top of him*

Genesis: WHY DO YOU HAVE THIS!?

Zack: Leave Skelesis Bonesodos alone. He isn't hurting anybody.

*Cloud is laying down spread eagle on a clean part of Zack's floor after Sephiroth mopped it up*

Cloud: This is so nice. I didn't even know you had heated flooring.

Zack: I HAVE HEATED FLOORING?

Cloud: Yeah, why??

*Zack dives under his bed and pulls out a pile of melted marshmallows*

Cloud: What the hell is that??

Zack: It was my marshmallow Stamp statue. Now it's just a pile of mush!

Cloud: Why would even keep that under your bed? You could attract mice.

Zack: Nah, I've never seen them, so I'm probably good.

*Sephiroth crawls out from under Zack's bed*

Sephiroth: You have the most lovely, welcoming mouse family living underneath your bed.

Zack:

Sephiroth: We're almost done here. Zack, why don't you and Cloud go get some fresh air while Genesis and I finish up here?

Cloud: Are you sure?

Genesis: Positive. Besides, only I can add the finishing touches. You boys go have fun.

Cloud: Alright! Come on, Cloud, let's go get Angeal.

*They leave*

*Genesis pulls out a box of scented candles*

Sephiroth: You want to put fire in Zack's bedroom?

Genesis: These candles will set the perfect mood with their apple cinnamon scent. Do you have a lighter?

Sephiroth: No.

Genesis: Does Zack have a lighter?

Sephiroth: Angeal confiscated Zack's lighter after he accidentally set his own eyebrows on fire.

Genesis: Rats.

Genesis: I don't have my bangles with me. Why don't you use your materia to light them while I go get my camera? I want to photograph my work.

Sephiroth: Alright.

*Genesis leaves the room*

Sephiroth: Lighting candles with materia sounds unsafe.

Sephiroth:

Sephiroth: Oh well. What could possibly go wrong?

*Zack, Cloud and Genesis are walking back inside Zack's apartment, leading Angeal*

Zack: You're gonna be so proud, Angeal! The room looks spotless!

Cloud: And Zack did it all on his own.

Genesis: HUH?

Zack: Yup! All on my own!

Genesis: MOTHER FUC—*Cloud tackles Genesis to the ground before he can spill the beans*

Angeal: I'm proud of you, buddy. You applied yourself and stayed on track. I can't wait to see how your room looks.

Zack: :)

*Angeal opens the door*

*Angeal closes the door*

Angeal: Call the police.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #zack fair #cloud strife #crisis core #ffvii crisis core #ff7 crisis core #storytime

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i-am-not-the-riddler · 4 months ago

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Butterflies?

Arkham Riddler x Reader: word count, 912. Okay but Eddie getting kinda flustered when you tend to his wounds.

⚠️CW: mention of blood, a little fluff, Eddie realising he’s a human being and not a robot

The sharp clatter of metal echoed through the dimly lit workshop as Edward worked intently on his latest project - a series of robots designed to carry out tasks with ruthless precision. His brow was furrowed in concentration, the soft glow of the monitors casting shadows across his face. You stood nearby, cataloging his latest notes, eyes glancing up occasionally as you tried to follow the intricate process of his genius.

He muttered to himself under his breath, words slipping into riddles as they often did when he was particularly focused. You’d grown used to it by now, the way his mind seemed to work on an entirely different plane from anyone else’s. It was part of what made him so fascinating—and so infuriating at times.

Suddenly, there was a sharp intake of breath from Edward, followed by a low curse. Your head snapped up, and you saw him clutching his left hand, blood already seeping between his fingers. The pliers he had been using lay discarded on the floor, a tiny smear of red marking where he had dropped it.

"Edward!" you exclaimed, rushing over to his side. "What happened?"

He grimaced, holding up his hand. "Just a... minor miscalculation," he muttered through gritted teeth. "Nothing I can’t handle."

You frowned, not buying his nonchalance for a second. The cut was deeper than he was letting on, a jagged gash running across the side of his palm. Blood dripped steadily onto the floor, staining the metal surface beneath him.

"That’s not ‘minor,’ Ed," you said, your voice firm as you grabbed a clean cloth from the nearby table. "Sit down."

He looked as if he might protest, his pride clearly wounded as much as his hand, but there was something in your tone that made him pause. Reluctantly, he sat on the edge of the table, still holding his bleeding hand in front of him.

You carefully took his hand in yours, your fingers warm against his cold calloused skin. His blood smeared slightly against your palm, but you ignored it, focusing on the wound. “This is pretty deep,” you murmured, pressing the cloth against the cut to slow the bleeding. "You should’ve been more careful."

Edward scoffed, though it was half-hearted. “I’m always careful,” he grumbled, though the tightness in his voice gave away the sting of the injury. His eyes flicked down to where your hands were gently tending to his wound, his breathing slightly uneven.

A strange flutter stirred in his stomach, something unfamiliar and unwelcome. It wasn’t just the pain. It was… something else. The way your fingers brushed against his skin, the care in your touch. It made him feel exposed in a way he wasn’t used to. He frowned, trying to brush it off, attributing it to the adrenaline and discomfort.

You reached for a bottle of disinfectant and some gauze, your movements practiced and efficient. As you began to clean the wound, Edward winced, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his eyes stayed locked on you, as if studying every small detail of your face—the furrow in your brow, the way you bit your lip in concentration.

"You don’t have to do this, you know," he said after a long pause, his voice softer than usual. "I could’ve handled it."

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. “Maybe. But you don’t have to do everything on your own, Eddie.” Your voice was gentle, almost too gentle for someone as sharp and calculated as him. "It’s okay to let someone help once in a while."

He blinked, momentarily thrown off by your words. For someone who prided himself on solving every problem, it was strange to hear that. Stranger still that it came from you, his assistant, the one person he could always count on for efficiency, logic, and order. And yet here you were, tending to his wound with a softness that was unsettling in ways he couldn’t quite articulate.

The flutter in his stomach returned, stronger this time. His mind scrambled to rationalise it. Perhaps it was just the rush of adrenaline wearing off. Yes, that must be it. It had to be.

As you finished wrapping the bandage around his hand, your fingers brushed against his wrist, sending an unexpected jolt through him. He tensed slightly, trying to suppress the odd sensation that seemed to crawl up his arm.

"There," you said with a small smile, tying the bandage securely. "All done. Just try not to reopen it, okay?"

Edward looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers slightly. The bandage was snug, the bleeding had stopped, but his focus wasn’t on the injury anymore. His eyes drifted back to you, lingering a little too long on the way you smiled at him, the way you stood just a little too close.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the words coming out awkwardly, as if they didn’t quite fit in his mouth. Gratitude wasn’t something he was used to expressing, especially not in moments like this. Vulnerability was a puzzle he had never solved, one he hadn’t even wanted to.

You tilted your head, your smile softening. "You’re welcome, Ed. Now, let’s try to get through the rest of the day without any more accidents, okay?"

He nodded, his mind still reeling from the strange mix of emotions swirling inside him. As you turned back to your work, he let out a slow breath, rubbing his bandaged hand absently.

The flutter in his stomach hadn’t gone away.

#arkham knight #batman #gotham #riddler #the riddler #fanfic #my fic #arkhamverse #arkham asylum #arkham riddler #riddler smut #imagine

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scramblescrew · 6 months ago

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good morningg/afternoon/nightt 💗! , can i request a shadow the hedgehog x fem reader where basically the reader gets hurt badly during a battle with eggman and shadow patches her up and gives her cuddles <3.

((With Pleasure, 💗 Anon!))

/TW: a few descriptions of blood and injury\

Shadow the Hedgehog x Fem! Reader: First Aid and Cuddle Scenerio

(Romantic(?) Fluff)

🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

_________Getting injured________

- you had been on several missions before and only had gotten minor injuries

- neither of you had expected one of Eggman’s Badniks to actually get a good hit in

- while Shadow was taking on a majority of the bigger threats but you made sure no stray badnik took a cheap shot on him

- as the robot waves dwindled down, you made the mistake of letting your guard down and turned to see the red eyed hedgehog finishing off the robots that were rushing towards him

- As Shadow turned to look at you, his eyes widened as two Buzz Bombers flew up behind

“Y/N!”

- Shadow launched forward, trying to save you from the things shooting at you

- unfortunately, you had turned just in time to be shot in the side and shoulder/arm. Sending you flying into Shadow’s arms

-bl**d gushed down your arm and onto the ground in a steady river of crimson. Lucky, the blast slightly cauterized a few blood vessels so bleeding out would take a bit longer than normal

-but it still needed to be addressed….NOW.

—Addressing your injury—

- after rushing you back to safety (your home), Shadow quickly got a med kit, then started disinfecting and bandaging the wounds

- thankfully the wounds weren’t that deep so gauze and bandages were applied to stop the bleeding

- but unexpectedly, even with quite a few wraparounds with bandages

- blood still soaked into the bandages enough that red was appearing on the top layers of the bandages

- Shadow quickly removed the gauze and bandages then re-bandages the wounds

- the bleeding eased up but there was a bit of blood still

-But for now, it would do…..

- you were wincing in pain still so your worried partner got you some painkillers then picked you back up

- shadow then took you to your bed and laid you down in it, getting in with you shortly after

————The Cuddle Session————

“Y/N….I’m so sorry…I should’ve been there…”

“Shadow, it’s ok! We’re both alive and doing pretty ok!”

- you two comforted each other as an outpouring of memories from your pasts emerged.

- Shadow talking about Maria and his fears about losing anyone of his other loved ones again

- …he couldn’t bare to lose you too… not after everything you two have been through and done together!

“Y/N, Seeing the blood and your pain…the memories all came flooding back again…ones I wish I could heal from…I can’t let you go…I can’t lose you-“

“And you won’t lose me…Shadow..honey…some scars don’t heal, Maria was your best friend..your sister…and there was nothing you could’ve done that would’ve made the outcome any different……”

“You’re right…I love you, Y/N..”

“I love you too…remember that she and I will always be here for you in one way or another…and that you can still live for her sake…”

-Shadow smiled as you told him about your life, the ups and downs, the trauma and possible healing, everything-

-that was until you finished talking and looked down

-you saw that your partner, the usual reserved and grumpy hedgehog had nuzzled his face into your neck and had fallen asleep with a look of relief and ease plastered onto his face

-you chuckled, and using your not injured arm, smoothed out any stray quills and patches of fur

-you hummed a soft tune as you too succumbed to sleep, albeit still in a bit of pain

——————BONUS!!———————

-Shadow woke up and reached his hand out, hoping you were still in bed…you weren’t.

- Shadow shot up, his eyes open and mind fully aware, you weren’t in bed, your place in bed was still kind of warm so you had to have gotten up very recently

- The immortal hedgehog teared up as he freaked out and got up and started rushing to the bedroom door-

- you were now suddenly in the doorway, leaning against the frame in a fair bit of pain with two cups of coffee and a small pouch in your hands.

“Y/N! You’re injured, you shouldn’t be out of bed! Come on- come lay down!”

“Darling, I just went to the kitchen and made us a little something! Just a little coffee for us two!”

-Shadow had taken the cups and pouch, setting them down on the bedside table,

“Doesn’t matter, now lay down!”

-You did as he said and got back into bed and into a comfortable position

“The larger cup and the pouch are for you, take ‘em.”

-Shadow looked at you for a second before taking the cup and pouch,taking a sip from the cup and going to his side of the bed, “….thank you, Y/N…”

“You’re welcome…I know you like your coffee..!”

“Yeah, I do.”

((IDK- I heard Shadow liked coffee and went with it!!!))

UP NEXT: Black Cat! Reader x Bishops (Platonic)

#shadow the hedgehog #taking requests #sonic the hedgehog #Shadow the hedgehog x reader #x reader #fluff #reqs open #request #so adorable #tw injury #tw blood #follow this blog for more #more coming soon #up next

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bamsara · 2 years ago

Note

Oooo, for the dialogue prompts "you should have thought about that before you got into a fight" and "I only wanted to help"

I love your works! Your art looks like itd taste like sour patch kids, v nice!! ^^

Sun (Mostly) Centric | Wordcount: 1,147 | AO3 Version

The world has not yet adjusted to the flood of robots merging with day-to-day society.

At least, not in the form they had taken prior. To say that there was some backlash was undercutting it; using arguments of humanity vs machine to its core, despite the clarity that those walking alongside them weren't just AI made to mimic human traits and personality, but sentient beings that develop their own. There's a difference between a chatbot app and your next-door neighbor who just so happens to be made out of metal.

Still, there is progress as much as there are incidents. A recent ruling states that all robots don't need to look human in order to receive the same amount of respect and rights (which is fantastic for all of Fazbear's line up of robots, considering they were animals in nature and all, in all franchises and pizza plexes across the country) but there were...incidents too, some of them making the news.

So when you're out doing some quick shopping for groceries one day and a stranger with a taut face and a sour attitude starts heckling Sun, and that heckling turns to harassment, and thus turns into him reaching for the back of the animatronic's head and pulling at the vulnerable wires there, you clock him.

Hard, actually. Your knuckles hurt like a bitch, but you don't have time to shake the feeling out from your hand because the guy sends one right back and oh, there you go, tumbling in the isle and knocking baking soda and sugar and other cake ingredients off the shelf as the two of you yell profanities and arguments while Sun has a metaphorical loading symbol over his head while he processes the last five seconds.

Now you're both banned from that store. The other guy is too, thankfully. Still sucks though. You didn't get to check out the ingredients for the cake.

"You're a real mess." Sun scolds you, dipping the rag back into the warm water, and bringing it back up to your face. He dabs at the dried blood under your eye, careful not to rub too harshly so as to not irritate the darkening skin beneath it. "Honestly. That could have gone so much worse-"

"Like pulling wires out of your head?" You interrupt. You're not too keen about the bathroom being turned into a lecture hall, and the lid of the toilet seat being your 'time-out' spot as he tends to you. "Yeah, sure. I'll just let the stranger rip out what is essentially your brain cords out of your flat skull and be fine with it."

Sun shoots you a look. The default smile is strained.

"What?" You hiss in the silent pause, and not because of the sting of your eye. "All I'm saying is that this-" A point to your face, "-is preferable than the other outcome."

"Our wires are welded in with steel, so I highly doubt a human could rip them out without some sort of power tool." Sun tuts. "You remember Parts n Service."

He had a point. The machine in Parts n Service did weld his arm back into place at the time, and all the other repairs since then didn't go without some sort of heat tool to make sure everything was properly molded in place. Still, you frown. "It's still fucked up that he did that, though."

"Language."

"We didn't even get the cake mix." A light dab on the eye, you bite your tongue as Sun clears the last of the dried blood from the area. "Shouldn't have banned us. Now we have to go across town to get groceries."

Sun pulls back the rag, stained pink and light brown with old blood, dropping it in the sink to be washed later. "You should have thought about that before getting into a fight."

"I was only trying to help!" You defend, continuing as Sun pulls out the disinfectant in a rather knowing manner. The cut underneath your eye from the guy's ring was about to sting like hell. "And it's not like I was the one who started it!"

He pours a dab of alcohol onto a cotton ball retrieved from the first aid kit, a small puff of white in between large silocone fingers, it's almost comical how he pinches it into place before crouching back down, the cotton ball hovering over your face. "Hush. This is going to sting."

Your mouth thins at the underlying tone of Moon's voice in his scolding, leaning away from the offending ball. "You're such a hypocrite."

A hand comes underneath your chin to hold you in place, thumb pressed into your jawline. "Stop whining."

"How would you feel, huh?" You wrinkle your nose as the disinfectant ball comes closer. "What would you do if someone attacked me like that?"

The cotton ball presses against the cut and you flinch, hard enough that your shoulders hike up and your neck tenses. It stings like hell, searing for a moment before dulling to an aching throb, a hiss in the back of your dry throat.

The Daycare Attendant's thumb keeps in place for a second, then pulls it away, expression unreadable. "The same thing we did the last time someone tried."

You grit your teeth, pressing your lips into a thin line as the stinging starts to fade.

"Though," He continues, pulling the cotton ball away and tossing it into the trash. "While your help is appreciated, It would be very much appreciated if we were to avoid something like that in the future!" He waves his hands, the bright smile returning, and Sun's fingers go behind your ear, pulling back out a colorful bandage. "I think it goes without saying that it makes me very sad to see you all hurt. Not fun at all!"

You blow hot air out of your nose in a huff as he applies the sticky bandage. "Hypocrite."

"There you are! Right as rain, dandy and peachy." Sun pulls back to observe his handiwork, and there's a slight pause. "Well, not quite. You've still got a bit of a shiner. I don't think I have a medicine for that one."

"It makes me look cool." You jest. "I look badass."

The animatronic sighs, heavy and loaded for a robot with no lungs, though his exasperation is evident in his voicebox. "Pulling my wires, our wires, please, you're constantly on them-" He's mumbling, quickly. Still talking even as he cradles your head gently by your jawline, and presses his faceplate to the skin above the black eye. "Afraid that's all I can give."

You wrinkle your nose, smiling. "I think a cake would be great too."

"Thanks to someone-" He starts, rising from a crouched position and taking your hand to help you stand. "It looks like we'll be ordering one from the bakery instead."

#drabbles #writings #fnaf sun #self insert #sun x reader #solar lunacy

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