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sevcasejay1chicago · 1 year ago

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Hi! Very happy to see you posted again.

Would love to see another Matt, Jay, and Kelly fic w/ morning sickness— maybe a follow up to the last one— where the reader’s morning sickness has gotten worse and one day after waking up in the middle of the night very ill she gets really shaky and lightheaded and the boys try to figure out if they should call 911, call Will, or drive to the ER.

Please no rush— you’re under no obligation to puts fics out fast. Health comes first. I hope life gets better for you soon <3

Here’s the part two you asked for FOREVER ago. I’m sorry for the wait my love!!! I hope you enjoy!!

Morning sickness- Jay, Matt, Kelly

Warnings: vomiting, SUPER fluffy

——————

You all hoped the morning sickness would go away. The boys hated seeing you so scared all the time. You were scared to eat, drink, sleep, and sometimes move. Even after you hit your 14 week mark, it just seemed to get worse. The boys refused to leave you, unless they absolutely had to. Matt and Kelly had decided to take different shifts at 51 to ensure that someone was always with you incase Jay got called in on a case. The intelligence unit was very forgiving and caring, trying their best to not pull Jay away from you unless Matt and Kelly were both home. Things seemed to flow better when two people were home with you. Someone always had you attached to their side while the other could do things to help you and keep up with things around the house.

One day, Kelly ended up needing to head to the store for you while Jay and Matt were at work. You both agreed that you could manage by yourself for the length of time he would be gone, though you weren’t completely confident. You had been feeling pretty sick and had yet to keep anything down, which led Kelly to go get a few things that you could sometimes keep down since you seem to be out of all of those things. You didn’t want to be any more of a burden than you already felt like you were, which made you agree to him leaving for a few minutes.

Everything went fine for the first 10 minutes, until the nausea got bad. You immediately texted Matt, letting him know you weren’t feeling good, as he was the one keeping track of all of your medical issues. In his worry, he decided to head home early, though he did not tell you that. He knew you were having some strong emotions with them changing their lives to take care of you, but he just couldn’t bare to be away from you any longer. This is the worst day you’ve had in a couple days.

Meanwhile, Jay had barely had the chance to set his keys and wallet down on the kitchen counter when he heard running footsteps. Assuming that he was alone since Kelly’s car was gone and you were never alone, Jay crept up the stairs with his gun in hand. He was quick to holster it when he heard vomiting coming from the master bathroom. He knew it could only be you. The sight of you shaking while trying to hold yourself up broke his heart.

“Oh god.” He whispered, heart pounding at the sight of your weak form. “Sweetheart. Sweetheart. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.” He said, running to you. He grabbed the hair you were trying to force out of the way, noticing how it was falling out of the hurried bun you threw it in. “I have your hair. It’s okay.” Jay shushed, rubbing your back and caging you between his legs.

Seconds later, Matt ran in. He could hear the commotion coming from the entryway. “Oh sweet girl.” You blindly reached for him as you heard his voice. “Aw, that’s alright. It’s alright. Just let it out.” Matt cooed, hating to see you so distressed as you heaved violently in Jay’s grip.

Jay leaned forward a bit when you started shaking violently, barely holding yourself upright. “It’s okay. It’s alright. I gotcha.” Jay soothed, strong arms coming around your chest after he let Matt take your hair.

You coughed, heaving in air during a little break. “Mmm, I don’t-“ you broke off into a sob that turned into a gag.

“Oh baby. I know. I know.” Matt shushed, petting your hair back. “It’s alright. It’ll be over in a minute.”

Simultaneously, Jay was whispering in your ear. “It’s alright. We’re here. We’re here. I know sweet angel. I know.” Jay soothed, kissing your shoulder.

“Mm-make it s-st-stop.” You grunted out, clutching your stomach.

“Shhh. I know baby. I know it’s uncomfortable and it hurts. I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Matt shushed, seeing that Jay was doing everything not to break at your cries. He was a strong man, but you turned him into jello in your hands.

“Oh God.” Kelly said, sliding through the door. “I was gone for 30 minutes. I’m so sorry baby.” Kelly explained before coming to sit on the lip of the tub on your left. “It’s okay.” He soothed, taking the hand you reached out to him. You seemed to finally start to empty, mostly dry heaving. “Yep. All out baby.”

“You all done?” Matt asked, reaching for some toilet paper to wipe your face clean.

Instead of answering, you tried to push yourself to your feet to rinse your mouth out. “Whoa whoa. Don’t get up. Your pale and shaky. Just sit right here and let me rub your back, yeah?” Jay said, catching you by the waist and sitting down with you. You turned sideways in his lap, allowing him access to your back. “There we go. Oh I know it. I know your stomach hurts. It’s okay baby.” Jay soothed as you whimpered, kissing your temple.

You looked at Matt through hazing, tear filled eyes. “Aren’t y-you s-su-supposed to be at w-work?” You managed to get out, trying to wrap your brain around what was going on.

“Shhh don’t try to talk. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine babe. Let’s worry about you and talk more later.” Matt shushed gently, worried about how pale you were and how sluggish your eyes and brain were. They needed to get some sugar in you. “Think your completely done? Maybe we can try some Gatorade.” Matt said.

Just the mention of putting something in your stomach had you heaving again. You pushed off of Jay and leaned over the toilet again, heaving hard.

“Oh. Okay okay. It’s okay baby.” Jay soothed.

“That a girl.” Kelly praised, clutching your hand again.

“Hurts.” You wheezed out, clutching your stomach with your free hand.

“Yeah. I know baby. I know it hurts. It’s okay.” Matt soothed, looking to Kelly. “Think we should take her to Med or call for help? She isn’t looking good.” Matt said, knowing you likely weren’t actually hearing him as you went through another round of violent heaving.

Both boys looked at you as you sucked in air, finally calming your stomach some. You stared off into space, seeming to lose track of reality.

“Baby. Are you okay?” Kelly asked, cupping a hand under your bicep.

Jay felt you sagging and immediately pulled you into his chest. You were hot from all the puking, but you were barely sweating. “Call Will. Tell him to bring an IV bag over here. She’s dehydrated.” Jay instructed, standing with you in his arms. You whined at the sudden movement, but clung to Jay’s neck.

“No. I’ll drive your truck with lights. Matt, call Will and have him get a room ready at med.” Kelly said, using a tone that left not room for arguments.

The ride was fast and Will barely had the room set up to check the baby and get you hydrated before Jay was running in the door with you. Nat saw you being carried through the door and ran into the room, helping put the baby monitor on you while Will put an Iv in.

Hours later, the baby seemed to be settling and you were starting to come around. You weren’t happy that you had an Iv in your hand, but you were pleased to see Jay and Matt sleeping peacefully while Kelly stood with his back to you.

When he heard you shuffle around in the bed, he quickly wiped his face and turned to you.

“Oh baby. Hey sweetheart.” Kelly cooed, barely above a whisper. He immediately came to your side, taking your hand.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, wiping left over tear tracks off of Kelly’s face after he kissed you briefly.

“I’m sorry I left you.” Kelly whispered, bottom lip quivering as he spoke.

“No no no.” You whispered. “Come here.” You demanded gently, tugging him into the hospital bed with you. “It’s not your fault. You were trying to take care of me the best you could. I should have spoke up.” You said, cuddling into his side, careful of the wires and tubing.

“Damn right you should have.” Jay mumbled, staying seated as Matt laid resting on his shoulder. “Don’t ever do that again.” Jay whispered, pout on his lips.

“Yes dear.” You replied, hiding in Kelly’s chest as Jay gave you his “dad” eyes. The “you just wait” eyes, but not in a good way. You knew he was playing, but you also knew you scared the crap out of your lovers. You just hope this kid chills out.

Tag list:

@treehouse-mouse

@shadowmeadowsworld

@sorry-i-spaced

@zephyrmonkey

@allisonargent144

@amie134

@lane-rodgers-barnes

@pensfan5871

@dumb-fawkin-bitch

@marvel-and-chicago-fan

@daggersquadphantom

@stellakiddsblog

@100yroldteenagers

@senjoritanana

@celtic-shadow-wolf

#one chicago #one chicago x reader #matt casey #kelly severide #jay halstead #fluff #matt casey x reader #jay halstead x reader #comfort #kelly severide x reader #emeto fic #emetophobia tw

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whereisten · 5 years ago

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Promises

“I make no promises, I can't do golden rings, but I'll give you everything tonight”

Pairing: Mafia Leader!Jaehyun x female reader (cafe owner)

Genre: Friends to lovers au, fluff, smut and angst at the end I’m sorry :(

Warnings: shower sex, unprotected sex, slight choking kink, slight innocence/corruption kink, oral sex (male receiving), brief mention of violent attack towards the end

Word Count: 3k

((A/N: this is a short fic inspired by the song “Promises” by Calvin Harris & Sam Smith. I’ve been obsessed with it for a while now so I hope you enjoy!!!!))

——————

“Why do you always come to me when you’re bruised and beat the hell up?” You rushed you your bathroom to grab your first aid kit.

“And now, you’re bleeding all over my floor..damn it Jaehyun!”

Jaehyun only gave you a half smile as he watched you walk back and forth while flailing your arms in the air. He sat on the couch and held his stomach while breathing heavily.

“Last time I checked, I don’t have a son that’s a gang leader! Why don’t you go to your mom’s house?”

You sat down beside him with a bowl of warm water and a cloth to wipe his bloody mouth.

Jaehyun was just a man that frequented the coffee shop your worked at. He liked looking at you while he sipped his coffee at the table in the corner, you were the calmest thing his eyes saw in his chaotic world. He was quite nervous to speak to you, and as the leader of a mafia, he wasn’t sure why.

But just a few months ago, he finally mustered up the courage to speak to you.

The two of you grew relatively close. He stayed with you when you closed the cafe by yourself, making sure no creeps followed you home, but he also just wanted to talk with you.

Something about you made him feel..happy.

You weren’t like everyone else in his life, you didn’t have any experience with crime and you sure as hell didn’t want any, but despite learning about who Jaehyun really was, you still stuck around.

You didn’t push him away, you only asked that he make sure to not bring that mess in the shop. You were also interested in him.

The two of you talked about movies, music, food, virtually anything. You clicked like you had been friends for years.

Jaehyun was somewhat satisfied with being your friend, but he knew he needed more. He felt a tinge of jealousy when he watched you smile with other customers. Your eyes crinkling at the sides as you laughed. Your voice was soothing, heavenly even. In a cruel world like this, not everyone deserved to share a space with you, he thought.

Oh and the twinkle in your eyes when you got excited about perfectly baked and iced cupcakes. He loved it. He loved everything you did a little too much.

A clear sign to him that he was too far gone. But what would happen if he asked you to date him? Would you say yes or would you say no and would the friendship be ruined?

“Jaehyun...when are you gonna protect this handsome face of yours?”

You asked while delicately wiping the blood from his face away. It has trickled down his neck, covering his intimidating demon neck tattoo in the process.

Your sweet voice disrupted his thoughts as he looked back at your worried face.

You were close to him, lips just centimeters away from each other.

Should he close the distance? No, that’s creepy. And what about his hands? Can he touch your back? No, definitely creepy.

Jaehyun was a murderer and criminal, but a creep he was not.

And almost as if you hear his thoughts run wild because of your close proximity to him, you look up with those large doe eyes and lock them with his. Your chest is stuck in place, you lick your lips, but quickly shift your attention away from his eyes and look to his neck.

Your hand stops moving and Jaehyun’s mouth opens slightly as if he’s about to tell you to keep touching him.

But instead, he apologizes.

“I’m-I’m sorry for always coming to you like this..”

He sounds genuine and your heart drops at how soft his voice sounds.

“Jaehyun..can you..kiss me?” You let out quietly without actually thinking it through.

Jaehyun’s eyes widen and he moves forward without hesitation.

Your lips finally lock as the cloth slowly drops out of your hand.

Jaehyun holds you close, pressing his palm into your back while you roll your body into his, gently pushing him into the couch more.

He looked amazing in his tight black t-shirt and you had to admit, you just wanted to feel his body on yours. His eyes were always dark and tempting as they watched you, tracing over your figure whenever you reached up high for something in the bakery.

He was a typical bad boy, irresistible, sexy, and dangerous. But Jaehyun has only showed you kindness. He was a normal person, besides the life of crime he lived.

Jaehyun takes your limp and awkward arms and wraps them around his neck while you kiss. Contrary to his rough look (created by the scary tattoos and black attire he had), Jaehyun was incredibly soft, delicately pressing his fingers in your back to massage it. His mouth caressed yours slowly, passionately but still yearningly.

He closed his eyes first, turning his head so his tongue could dance with yours.

Your hands ran down his chest tenderly as the sounds of labored breathing and quiet moaning filled the apartment.

“Jaehyun..” you whisper, asking for more without actually posing the question.

You bite your lips and look at his eyes. You take his hands and intertwine your fingers with them.

He breathes heavily and watches your lips.

You bring his hands under your oversized T shirt and take in a sharp breath when you feel his cold fingers on the sensitive skin below your breasts.

Jaehyun doesn’t know if he’s lightheaded from the blood loss or the fact that he’s finally touching you.

You still hold his hands, bringing them to your breasts and moaning once you feel his large, calloused and bruised hands on you.

Your head falls back and Jaehyun immediately leans forward and lays sloppy kisses on your neck, his hands now kneading into your breasts and palming the hard tips.

Your hand reaches down to his jeans now, patting the bulge in them gently.

Jaehyun bucks into your hand on instinct and nips your neck. You cry out, but he then holds your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Jaehyun nearly screams when you look down at him through your lashes. His tongues darts out over his swollen lips as he blinks rapidly. He wants to take you but the dealings of earlier have made him sweaty and dirty, and being a nasty man for you just isn’t what he wants. So he thinks of the perfect way to please you.

You’re about to question why he stopped, but then he smirks.

“Bathroom. Where’s your bathroom?”

————

Your hand flings against the light switch as your two bodies stumble into the bathroom.

Your lips are locked as Jaehyun takes and moans that you have for him. Your bodies are hot and needy, you’ve teased each other enough already and are both in need of release.

You and Jaehyun help each other strip down completely naked before getting into the shower.

Jaehyun presses you into the chilly wall of the shower, your shoulder blades feeling attacked instantly. But his luscious lips on yours make you forget the pain soon enough.

You squeeze some body wash onto your hands and coat Jaehyun’s body with it, slowly caressing his sculpted body while he groans. Your touch drives him crazy. “Fuck..” he mutters our as your hand runs over the silky skin of his pelvis, so close to his hard member, but not close enough.

The hot water decorates your bodies and only adds to the heat between the two of you. Soon the steam builds up in the bathroom and you are both taking deeper breaths between kisses.

Jaehyun returns the favor by rubbing you down with body wash all over, teasing you while watching you tremble with a smirk.

He kneels down and runs his hands up and down your thighs, slowly working their way inwards and up to your folds. His long fingers just barely touching against your bud. So close, but not close enough. You bite your lips and bring yourself closer to him but he chuckled.

“Mmm being teased isn’t nice, is it, baby?” He winks.

“If we stay any longer in this shower, you owe me half of the water bill.”

He stands up straight and chuckles. “You know me, baby, I always pay my dues.”

“Is that so? So how did you end up with those bruises, huh? You-“

Jaehyun shut you up with a kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut and you couldn’t help but smile.

He grabs your legs by the crook of the knees and wraps them around his waist before pulling away to look into your eyes. His playfulness has disappeared and you both swallow hard.

“Are you sure you want this...with me?” Jaehyun asks quietly.

You gulp and look at his neck tattoo, the one thing that constantly reminded you that he was no normal man. He wasn’t gonna be someone you could tell your parents or friends about. He wasn’t someone you could walk in the park with. He wasn’t someone you could walk down the aisle or raised kids with one day. No. He’s a gang leader. Someone that lived a life you didn’t understand. One that was just downright scary to you. And yet here he was, resting between your legs, ready to take you.

Jaehyun tried not to think too much about the doubt that he saw in your eyes when he asked if this was something that you wanted. But he knew you were conflicted. His reputation wasn’t great and you were scared, he had to understand that. You had reservations about him and unfortunately, he couldn’t promise to prove you or anyone else wrong. He couldn’t promise to be the long term partner you deserved.

Nonetheless, Jaehyun has showed you a side no one knew. He opened up to you and you opened up to him. You had more in common than you had ever expected.

You nodded.

“Fuck me, Jaehyun.” You whisper lowly.

Jaehyun smirks when the word falls out of your beautiful mouth, making him weak and even harder than he was before.

He pushes forward, teasing your entrance as he runs the tip along the folds, parting them every now and then.

You whimper, your mouth falling open as it feels incredible just to have some sort of friction against your needy pussy.

Jaehyun goes back to sucking your neck while one hand takes a fistful of hair.

His other hand pumps up and down his length as the sounds of your moans are muffled by the thunderous flow of water from the shower head.

“J-Jaehyun, please.”

Jaehyun places both hands on your thighs now, pushing into you slowly with his hard cock.

You gasp and hold onto his shoulders, your back riding up against the tiled wall as you pant.

Your heart feels like it’s stuck in your throat while Jaehyun stretches you out. He grunts and pulls back before pushing in slowly again.

“Fuck..you feel amazing.” Jaehyun’s member is comforted by your silky, tight walls closing around him with each push.

Your head falls back again and he watches your radiant skin sparkle with water drops that run down your neck and into the crevice if your breasts. It’s a beautiful sight for him and he never wants to forget it.

He then sucks hard into your neck as his speed increases. Your mouth stays open as you whimper and grip his shoulders, your nails digging into the skin.

When you looked at Jaehyun as he stares at your lips through low eyes, you feel butterflies in your stomach. His black hair plastered onto his forehead gave him a more gentle look, and his slightly parted lips were so kissable, you wanted to feel them everywhere.

But his dark eyes. Eyes of a wolf that watched his prey. You felt desired, wanted, special..

he groans as he gets closer, you can feel his dick twitch each time it enters you, and you know he is hesitant to go harder on you.

“It’s okay, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened. “A-are you sure?” He he snaps his hips into you hard as if to give you a teaser of what’s to come.

“Yes!” You cry out at the sudden feeling of him in the base of your stomach.

And so, he continues to push into your pussy harder. A mixture of your loud moans and his grunts filling the bathroom. The tip of his cock hit your depths as he pushed all the way in, leaving your legs weak as they widened more. Your spine tingled with pleasure.

Your back becomes numb as it rubs against the wall repeatedly, but you don’t mind. Jaehyun fills you up so satisfyingly and the way his skin presses against yours just adds to the erratic feeling you have inside. He breathes hard against your shoulder as his hips snap into yours.

Jaehyun puts a hand around your neck and looks into your eyes. You immediately nod before he kisses you, biting his lip as he pulls away.

He squeezes it while you moan, your close so Jaehyun rubs circles into your bud. You ignore the aching feeling in your trembling legs and shit your eyes tightly.

“Oh fuck, Jaehyun, yes..”

He grinds into you even harder and soon you feel yourself climax, you clench around him as his grip on your throat tightens.

You cry out his name as he continues to push into your throbbing and soaking flower, but he pulls out quickly.

“On your knees.” His tone is gravelly and surprisingly demanding for the first time this evening.

But you don’t hesitate to drop your knees for him and open your mouth.

“Can I?” He tilts his head and gives you a cocky expression because he already knows your answer.

You nod and without a second to spare, Jaehyun shoves himself into your throat, immediately hitting the back of it and making you gag, but you ignore the pain and hollow your cheeks.

The water hits your sore back as Jaehyun fucks into your mouth with his hand on the back of your head.

Tears run down your cheeks, but you feel yourself become increasingly wet every time he grunts or curses. Looking up at the tattooed man above you as he slowly loses it just makes you think of all the ways you’d love to have him ruin your insides, and even though you just came, you want more.

Jaehyun can’t get enough of your wet and wide eyes. You looks so innocent and pure, yet so nasty for him as spit runs down your chin. He pushes in faster and you him to push him along.

“Oh, fuck...Swallow.” He demands once again before shooting out strings of white onto the surface of your throat. He releases everything into you then pulls out while breathing heavily.

He helps you to your feet and uses a washcloth to clean the spit and cum from your chin.

He then cleans between your legs and watches you giggle as he purposefully tickles you.

He carries you off to your bed and lays you down while smiling softly.

“Did..you like that?” Jaehyun was surprised with himself, he normally didn’t care for a girl after fucking her. He’d send them in their way whether or not they were satisfied because only he mattered. But you. He wanted you to be satisfied, more than satisfied to be exact.

Your approval meant something to him and part of him hated that.

“Yes, I did. I’m always down for another round some time.” You gave him a wink and blushed.

“It’s funny because I wanted to ask you something..” Jaehyun looked away and onto the blanket that covered your body. He felt like he was back in middle school and about to ask his crush to the dance.

You had a feeling you knew what was coming.

“Will you-?” Jaehyun was interrupted by his phone. He cursed and took it out of his pocket, his soft demeanor shifting as his expression grew irritated.

“Give me one sec.” he looked away from your look of disappointment and left your bedroom.

You couldn’t hear what he said on the phone, but you knew that he looked angry when he saw the name on the caller id.

Jaehyun hung up and walked back into the room. He started to put on his clothes in silence while you clenched your blanket and watched.

“What’s wrong, Jaehyun?” You asked so softly, Jaehyun wanted to give in and cuddle with you all night. But he couldn’t, especially not after hearing what he just heard from his henchman. Someone from his rival gang had stalked and attacked the girlfriend of one of his gang member’s.

She survived but was hurt badly in the knife attack and it just served as a reminder to him of the kind of life he lived. He couldn’t live happily. He couldn’t love someone like you and put your life in danger just for his own benefit. He had to end things now before it got too late.

“Jaehyun..were you going to ask me to be your girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend? Listen..y/n..what we did..it was great but let’s be realistic..we would never last. We’re just too different.” Jaehyun couldn’t look at you when he said this. He was just so angry with himself. How could he get so emotionally involved? How could he fall in love so easily while knowing that nothing good could come of it?

“But Jaehyun..” you started but he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

“I..won’t be seeing you again, y/n. I regret ever meeting you.” His brows furrowed. How could he be so mean? He had to push you away, even if it meant saying cruel and untrue things.

Your eyes started to tear up. “W-What do you mean? What’s wrong?” You jumped off the bed and walked towards him, confused as to why his mood shifted and why he was acting like this.

But you were too late. He already slammed the door shut and headed down the hallway, pacing fast towards the elevator.

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unbridgeabledistances · 4 years ago

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hi 💜💜 i got a prompt about ian x body image a while ago (my inbox is a hot mess and i may have deleted the prompt lol, but i did paste it into my phone notes)- and i was feeling some feelings today & had some spare time amidst my travels & ended up writing this!!

prompt: can you write about ian and his relationship with his body image, esp post-canon when they move to the westside

(tw for body image/eating disorder/food mentions)

He didn’t really even think about it the first times that he did it— skipping a few meals that went unnoticed in the morning clamor of the Gallagher kitchen. He noticed his skin growing tauter and tighter around his abdomen with every passing day, a hollow absence sitting like a rock in the pit of his stomach.

He did it for a reason—he’d been getting more lingering looks under the flashing lights at the club, more unwelcome fingers pressed against the now-present ridges on his stomach, tracing his toned upper arms. The less there was of him, the more they wanted him.

The thing about Ian is that he was always disciplined; the middle child, the one who was overlooked and ignored and blended in until he decided that he had to make a name for himself. He and Lip and gotten into hair-tugging, jaw-smashing fights about this very reality; Ian was completely, totally, absolutely ordinary. Until he made himself extraordinary—until he burst through the storefront labeled “ARMY” at a strip mall with smudged windows and said with a tall chest: I want to enlist.

Everything had led up to this— every push-up on the creaking slanted floor of their childhood bedroom, every jog at the crack of dawn. He was going to make something of himself, he was going to be a hero.

He was going to get the fuck away from Mickey, and his wife, and whatever else kept pushing him down and holding him back.

When Ian came back from the army, when he was sleeping on exposed floorboards and working at the club all night—that was when it all actually started. When he decided that less of him meant more—when he decided that he should give people the best show he could, because everything else was fucked up anyways. This was all he was good for.

But then Mickey came through the door, pale skin flashing in the strobe lights, wearing that fucking dark button-up with sleeves folded to his forearms and smelling like nice cologne that he’d almost definitely stolen from one of his brothers’ bathroom shelves; and for a brief moment after the initial shock set in, Ian was proud— proud of how much negative space surrounded him, proud of how he could press his thighs into stretched golden spandex better than any of the other men thrumming to the beat beside him on the podium. Proud of how much other people wanted him, when Mickey didn't.

It was only later, after Mickey carried him home (easily, too easily) after he’d passed out in a snowbank, and Ian had woken and waited for Mickey to burst into his bedroom door at the Gallagher house while he leaned against the wall and scribbled on a notepad— later, when Mickey was about to curl on the floor and sleep using one of Liam’s balled-up t-shirts as a pillow— that Ian noticed Mickey’s eyes lingering on his uncovered torso, a second longer than the quick glances of admiration from the well-dressed men with greased-back hair and grubby fingers at the club. It hit Ian, then, when he saw Mickey’s gaze that was soft around the edges, the same fuzziness and confusion of Fiona’s stares when he would chatter on for too long in the mornings:

He’s worried about me.

But Mickey played along— Ian was back, and Mickey stayed beside him this time, and chuckled when he walked down the stairs to the sight of Ian cutting off the bottom half of his old ROTC pants, now multiple sizes too big and hanging baggy even at the hips. Mickey curled beside him on the twin bed, silently stroking hair back from his forehead and cradling his cheeks with a feather-light touch as Lip and Liam’s even, sleeping breaths swirled around them. And Ian kept doing pull-ups, and told Carl that he liked the way that Mickey smelled. Mickey came out for him. And for a while things were really, really fucking good, and Ian didn’t even think about the gnawing hollow feeling in his stomach at all any more.

Until a grey morning came, quick and silent, and kept him frozen under the sheets for days.

In the months afterwards, Ian trained harder, faster—he met up with Fiona as she pushed Liam in the stroller and jogged beside them, ran before and after shifts at the club, did push-ups on Mickey’s grimy floor while he was out handling Rub N’ Tug shit.

I’m not Monica. This wasn’t going to happen again. His body could do this. His body could fix his brain.

It couldn’t.

Most of what happened on the “road trip” with Yevgeny (that was the only phrasing that Ian could really mentally use to name the incident, the only semiotic filler for “kidnapping” that didn’t want to make him burrow even deeper under his tattered blankets) was a blur—Mickey feeding him fistfuls of pills and room-temperature Gatorade, luring Mickey to the dugouts where he tried to do a pull-up and felt a quivering in his limbs, a weakness rather than a familiar and fulfilling burn. Slamming Mickey in the face with a fist that was too flimsy, too weak—a fist that still left the blooming of a bruise on Mickey’s jawline, a splatter of blood caking into his eyebrow. But still weak, still not enough. Definitely not strong enough to fight off two MPs with loaded guns, tangling his hands behind his back and forcing him into the backseat of a car.

More blurry days— on the road with Monica. Breaking up with Mickey. Getting a job at Patsy’s. Withering away, purple bags sagging under his eyes. Becoming less, always less.

Then, a glimmer of light— he met Caleb. He studied to be an EMT. He got a call from Mandy, got to wrap her in his arms in less-than-ideal circumstances.

“I got tired of starving myself to fit in that golden thong.”

It was the first time he’d said it out loud.

He started to run again—and he started to not miss it, the hollow feeling gnawing at his insides, the twisting lack. He met Trevor, he went to brunches, he ordered mimosas and muffins and kept himself in shape, but didn’t push himself too far.

So it surprised him, really, when once again his body and mind weren’t in sync.

That was the biggest thing he’d think about, in the idle hours of he and Mickey’s prison cell, months later—that for once in his life, years after the nights at the club or the hazy early mornings at Patsy’s or in a baggy janitor uniform, he was actually doing really, really fucking good. He had a following. He was strong. Or at least he thought he was.

But something about being near Mickey pulled him out of his head and into his body, centered him— it always did. Mickey had always liked his body; Ian remembered how Mickey’s eyed at lingered that night at the dugouts, when they were two kids doing pull-ups and Mickey watched his muscles clench in the moonlight, two sets of shining eyes and bodies warm with beer leaning closer to each other in the muggy air. But Ian never felt a need to flaunt his body, or change his body, for Mickey— and in so many ways, those first days in prison were like his body was coming home. Sometimes it was hard, and fast, and filthy words whispered into each other’s skin—and sometimes it left them grasping for breath in an entirely different way, in fingertips lazily skimming over collarbones and fisted into roots of hair, of breathed “Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful”s escaping Mickey’s parted mouth that Ian mentally stored but never brought up again, because he knew in the best case scenario Mickey would just roll his eyes and call him a “soft bitch,” and in the worst he would just flat-out deny it. But Ian felt balanced in a way he hadn't in months, with all the "Gay Jesus" bullshit pressing in. He took his meds, he did his nightly sit-ups, he counted down the days—until the hourglass was slipped out from under his fingertips and he was teleported back to the Gallagher house, back to the place where so much of this began and so much was about to end.

The hollowness, the hunger, didn’t really need to be there anymore once he was out— it was only a dull murmur. A ghost, a memory trapped in dreams of strobe lights and prying hands.

Mickey got out, and they got married—and in the moments before Ian called Mickey an “ugly motherfucker” as he let a smile crack onto his face—and he knew Mickey felt it, knew Mickey heard: I have never known anyone as beautiful as you.

And Ian’s fullness just kept blooming and compounding and radiating after the wedding; they fought, and then they didn’t, and it didn’t matter anyways because they were fucking married. Ian kept doing sit-ups before they went to bed, even though he felt like he didn’t really have to anymore. Something big had shifted; something had settled and given way, had filled in all the cracks.

So he’s surprised, when they move to the West Side, and that feeling starts to stir again; faint, fuzzy, like some sort of invasive and shapeless amoeba in the dark corners of his brain, whispering and hissing that there should be less of him. On their first morning in the new place he heads to the gym, wearing a camo t-shit that covered his torso and shoulders—and of course he ends up making a fool of himself next to some guy, some guy that he could have been, with sweaty toned abs and bronzed skin and rippling muscles. He doesn’t know why it gets to him, that small interaction—he’s so much happier now, so fucking happy he’s buzzing with it, but there’s also something churning in the faultlines of transition; that aching for hollow absence and stretched skin and interested eyes, that feeling that made him woozy and lightheaded as a kid but also sickeningly proud, like every moment of standing tall, of dancing, of staying alive was a statement, a challenge, a test of how much he could push his ability to be desired.

He immediately pushes the thought down. He doesn’t fucking need that anymore to keep his head above water; he’s stable, he’s loved, he’s fed. He’s growing organic tomatoes, and definitely developing a farmer’s tan from his days hunched over their way-too-tiny community garden plot tenderly watering and pruning the vines and brambles. He is desired. So it doesn’t make fucking sense that the hunger, the clawing in his stomach for the absence, doesn’t really stop.

“Okay Gallagher, spill.”

Ian felt his eyebrow raise instinctively at Mickey’s tone. “Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at this fancy fucking chicken thing you made for, like, twenty minutes. Stop staring at it and eat your goddamn dinner.”

He felt a twist in his gut. I don’t want to.

“M’actually not really that hungry.”

Mickey’s eyes narrowed. “The fuck’s up? You stressed about work shit?”

Ian huffed out a breath of relief. “Nah. It’s not that.” He fiddled with his fork on the plate, drawing lines into the sauce pooled under the tomato-basil chicken he’d made. It was healthy, it was good, he’d worked out today; he could stomach a couple bites of dinner if he fucking had to. He just had to work up to it. Even the smell was making his stomach twist— it had smelled good while he was cooking it, placing fresh-scented basil leaves into the simmering sauce, but now it just was too much.

Mickey’s boot nudged against his calf from under the kitchen island. “Ey. Is it a tired thing? Or a… sick thing?” His eyes darted to their kitchen cupboard, where Ian kept his meds on the bottom shelf by the water glasses. “Or, like, a food thing?”

Ian felt his fingers go slack around his fork. “A food thing?”

“Yeah, man, y’know. When you get all weird about food.”

A tightness in his chest. “What the fuck? I don’t get weird about food.”

Mickey’s eyes flickered to meet his—and Ian would have gotten more pissed off if he didn’t see the soft concern bleeding into Mickey’s gaze, how cautiously Mickey was trying to broach the topic. Ian blew out a breath. Of fucking course Mickey noticed this shit— he always did.

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re usually good, especially compared to when you were fucking starving yourself when we were kids. But, uh… I don’t know.” Now it was Mickey’s turn to play with his food, scraping his fork along the remnants of sauce on his plate that was nearly clean. “You got kind of weird about working out and shit in prison. And then at the house, with all the quarantine bullshit the first few weeks. Eating fuckin’ cereal all the time, then not eating at all. You’ve been normal since then, or whatever. Lookin’ healthy.” Ian felt Mickey’s gaze drag over him. “Just don’t want you getting stressed out and not eating again or whatever.”

Ian felt a muted warmth blooming in the hollow of his stomach, filling in the cracks of where the jagged feeling continued to claw. If it was anyone else laying out this fucking analysis of his habits Ian would’ve gotten defensive—or at the very least annoyed, that someone was pinning down yet another one of his behaviors, putting them under a fucking clinical microscope.

But of course, this was Mickey— and the difference with Mickey was that he cared, he cared so much that it made Ian’s body ache every time he realized it. Those words wouldn’t have come tumbling out of Mickey’s mouth if they hadn’t been building for a while, hadn’t been gnawing away at some corner of his mind over time.

Ian raised a hand over the table to clasp into Mickey’s warm palm—reaching over the empty plate, the plate of uneaten food.

“It’s, uh. A food thing.”

Mickey’s eyes met his—open, listening.

“You’re right about all the starving myself shit from forever ago. And the not eating. And the… quarantine stuff. I guess I just thought that now that things were good, it’d go away? And I feel so fucking good right now. But sometimes I just have weird days.”

Mickey huffed out a breath. “I fucking know you do, dumbass. M’just saying that I notice that shit. And we can figure it out.”

Ian felt the corner of his mouth tick upwards. “I really thought it was gonna go away. I’m a fucking adult.”

Mickey shrugged. “Sometimes shit doesn’t work like that, Gallagher.” He chugged a sip of water from his glass, apparently glad that this heavier part of the conversation was over now that he knew what was up. “It’s like what you tell me about my shit with Terry. Trauma doesn’t just magically fucking disappear.”

Trauma. He’d never really thought about it like that before—he had plenty of childhood shit to work through, between abandonment and raging mental illness; and he’d never really thought that his body image issues made the list.

But maybe they did— maybe this was another wound, one that he could learn to heal.

Mickey kicked his shin under the table. “There’s cereal and stuff in the cabinet, I got the Fruit Loops shit you like. Want me to wrap up the chicken and shove it in the fridge?”

All he could do was nod— and once again feel that warmth on his insides that Mickey was this good, that he knew how to make shit like this easier.

And he snuggled into the couch beside his husband, a bowl of soggy cereal in his hands.

#idrk what this is but i wrote it at LIGHTNING speed #can u tell that i reached the destination of my childhood home & am having lots of thoughts and feelings about body image LOL #i was like !!! i have a prompt about this #love u all xoxo #gallavich #shameless #shameless fic #gallavich fic #gallavich fanfiction #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ixm #tw eating disorder #tw food mention #tw ed #tw body image

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aimeelouart · 4 years ago

Text

Repurposing a bit of server freewriting for part 2 of purring!Cloud (Saving Subject C AU). Lil’ bit of whump, lil’ bit of hurt/comfort, and lovely fluffy cuddles

Also doubles as a preview if we end up going in a certain direction, but tbh I doubt it. Either way, spoiler free.

Cloud held pressure across his stomach, grimacing as the pain came and went in throbbing waves. He’d already pulled the shrapnel out so his body wouldn’t seal around it. Now it was just a matter of staying still and keeping pressure on until it closed enough for him to safely move.

His chest was doing the fucking thing (he refused to put a name to it) but he couldn’t make it stop, which didn’t make any sense. Didn’t cats only...do the thing when they were happy? Why was it happening to him now?

Fuck, at least the SOLDIERs weren’t around to hear it.

“Cloud!”

The call was still fairly distant. Cloud loosed an involuntary, irritated grunt at the sound. Shit, they were persistent. Maybe that wasn’t surprising. He had run off and destroyed Shinra property at the first available opportunity. With any luck, his hiding space would work until the hole in his side closed and he could make a proper escape. It didn’t have to be long. Just...long enough.

Gaia, he was starting to feel lightheaded. He cracked an eye open and checked the size of the blood puddle spreading from his side. It was much wider than he’d hoped. He might be in more trouble than he thought.

“There you are.”

Cloud breathed out a heartfelt “fuck” as Sephiroth’s voice reached him. Grimacing, he tilted his head enough to see the silver-haired demon kneeling and peering into the dark space beneath the broken lift Cloud was using for cover. He snarled at the man, but it was half-hearted at best. Even if he somehow found the strength to take up his commandeered knives again, he was too weak to run, never mind fight.

He’d miscalculated, and how he was going to pay for it.

But…

But.

Sephiroth didn’t sound angry when he dropped down onto his stomach and slid as far into the narrow space as he could. “Cloud, where are you hurt?” He sounded…concerned, alarmed, maybe even a little bit…afraid? “Cloud?”

“Fuck off,” Cloud slurred, confused. His sight was starting to gray a little bit around the edges. A real pang of concern shot through him. Had he missed an exit wound?

Sephiroth snorted a little, disbelieving. “Even when you are bleeding out, you still…” He reached, but even his long arm wasn’t quite enough to snag Cloud’s shirt. “Cloud, can you move toward me? Just a little bit.”

He hunkered down into himself, trying to apply more pressure. The pain was fading, and he still couldn’t make the stupid rumbling stop. “No.”

“I can’t help you unless you move a little bit, Cloud.”

“Fuck off,” he repeated, eyes starting to slide shut.

Another voice. “Seph?”

“He’s here. I can’t reach him.”

Cloud’s eyes shut all the way.

“Let me try. Here, Angeal, take my coat for a second.”

The voices were starting to sound like they were coming from underwater. Cloud felt, distantly, that this was definitely the point at which he should have been outright alarmed. He’d missed something. Probably an exit wound on his back, based on the blood loss. He’d be fine, even if they left him where he was, but they weren’t going to do that. He wished he had the strength to grab one of his knives.

“Cloud, sweetheart, can you say something?”

He found the will to say “fuck off” a third time. It sounded like “f’k ov.”

Genesis—that was Genesis—snorted. “Okay. Okay, I’ve…” Fingers snagged the edge of his sleeve. “…got you! I’ve got you, come on.” He pulled, sliding Cloud across the blood-slicked ground until he could grab an arm, and then Cloud was dragged from the safety of his hiding space and out into the light. Alarms were still going off in the distance. He smirked weakly.

“Shit, kiddo,” someone breathed as he was rolled onto his back. He couldn’t quite find the strength to keep his hand over the wound and it fell limply to the ground. “Did you⁠—is this a shrapnel wound? Cloud, did you pull it out?”

Duh, he thought, unable to articulate his disdain.

“Later, Genesis,” someone else said. Large, strong hands provided the compression Cloud wasn’t able to any more.

“I need to see his back. Get the shirt off.”

His shirt was cut off as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He was shifted, then propped up across someone as two more hands pressed down on either side of his torso. Magic flooded his body, sealing the path carved through his flesh. The gray retreated a little as another flood of magical energy compensated for his blood loss until his body could make up the difference.

And, finally, the stupid purring stopped. He really, really hated that it seemed to be involuntary.

Cloud was shifted again, wrapped up in something primarily leather and then picked up like a swaddled infant. Fucking rude, he thought, struggling to drag his leaden eyelids up. A vaguely silver blur hovered above his face. He tried to object, but what came out of his mouth was closer to a grumpy kitten growl than articulated displeasure.

“Hush,” someone said. It might have been the silver blur. A water bottle was pressed against his lips and since he wasn’t completely self destructive, he drank.

“Little idiot. What was your plan, hmm? To bleed out under there?”

That was probably Genesis. Out of pure spite, Cloud managed to spit out a “yeah” in response.

A frustrated noise. A tired sigh. A rumbling, half-stifled laugh against his ear.

“Stop antagonizing him,” someone said. A hand passed over his face, brushing his staggering eyelids down. Tired, he let them stay closed. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about appropriate responses to severe bodily harm later.”

And Cloud was...increasingly confused. It was hard to think, drained and cold and barely hanging on to consciousness, but none of this was what should have been happening. They were threatening...scoldings? No one was angry. He’d destroyed a massive amount of Shinra property, practically spat in their faces, and somehow no one was angry.

He shivered, and it had nothing to do with the chill.

Cloud’s little stunt had scared the hell out of them. It wasn’t that they didn’t care that he’d demolished Shinra property and made their job fending off the Turks much, much more difficult—they did—but when they’d started searching, they really had thought it would be a tiny, lifeless body they found. Any anger and frustration they might have felt paled in comparison to the sheer relief of finding him alive.

Sephiroth was the one watching him (hiding him, more or less), while Genesis and Angeal dealt with getting all of them back to the Tower in one piece. It wasn’t going to be easy, but Cloud was so little and this event just reinforced the fact that only SOLDIERs had any hope of containing him. Hopefully that would bolster their argument rather than encourage Science to get involved, because...well, forget what he and Genesis and Angeal would do to save the kid, Cloud himself would rip the whole department to shreds using only his teeth if they even tried to take him.

On some distant level, Sephiroth wondered how Cloud had managed to ensnare the three of them (and more SOLDIERs besides) so quickly. Or at all. Sephiroth wasn’t supposed to have a heart. He was supposed to be the pure paragon of SOLDIER, a soulless weapon forged only to mete out death. But here he was, holding a child safe in his arms and feeling his breath stutter every time he wondered what it would have been like to find a cold, unmoving body beneath that broken equipment.

Cloud was asleep, face milk-pale where it rested against the dark leather of his coat. He had proper blankets now, and Sephiroth’s own body heat besides. Angeal had been very clear about that—Cloud was not to be without a heat source until he was no longer anemic.

Not that Sephiroth would have willingly put him down. He found himself oddly agitated at the thought of not being able to feel the boy’s heartbeat beneath his palm. And, more than that...he felt unwilling to give up the strange, powerful contentment he felt just having Cloud safe in his arms.

“Seph?”

He startled a little, moving his eyes from Cloud’s face to find Genesis standing with one hand on the door frame, watching them with an unreadable expression. “...yes?” Sephiroth responded when Genesis didn’t continue. He realized that he had been shifting back and forth from foot to foot without noticing. When had that started?

“...you’re purring.”

What? He stopped—he stopped breathing entirely, actually. They’d told him about Cloud’s near-violent reaction to his own purring weeks before, but only now did he really understand. Because humans weren’t meant to be able to do that.

“Hey,” Genesis said quickly, crossing over to touch his arm, “stop. I know what you’re thinking.” His eyes were unusually gentle, maybe because he was riding the same relieved high Sephiroth was. “But...aren’t you glad Cloud isn’t alone?”

Aren’t you glad you’re not alone?

And he...was. He really was, once the thought was put to words. Cloud had been frightened by his own body and abilities, but he didn’t need to be anymore. Not when Sephiroth was with him. Neither of them were alone.

The rumbling started back up. He thoughtlessly leaned his head down and pressed his cheek to Cloud’s damp, unruly hair. The boy smelled like mako and blood and explosives. Sephiroth didn’t mind at all.

Genesis huffed a laugh, but it choked a little, and Sephiroth cracked an eye open inquisitively. “You’ve...you’ve never been injured enough or happy enough to do this before, have you?” he asked.

Oh. Was that it? He thought it might have been in response to Cloud, somehow, but...he really hadn’t ever felt such powerful relief and contentment until today, had he? Objectively, that was probably sad—that’s what Genesis’s expression was telling him. He didn’t much care though. There were more important things to think about.

So he just hummed noncommittally and gathered Cloud a little closer, shutting his eyes again. When Genesis huffed a second laugh, it was much lighter.

“So,” Genesis said, nudging him, “when is it my turn to play space heater?”

Sephiroth growled.

#Tumblr exclusive writing #Saving Subject C #ff7 #Cloud Strife #Sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos #aimeelouwrites #SSC Purring Saga

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sanflowerseeds · 4 years ago

Text

They Do It With Mirrors

Genre: PWP, Smut

Pairing: Choi San x Fem!reader, surprise appearance by Jung Wooyoung

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mirror sex, fingering, unprotected sex, slight anal play

Synopsis: Whenever you visit San at the company building you both end up going at it in a variety of innapropriate places. Today is no different. Bent at the waist, face pressed against the practice room mirror, you watch your warm breath fogging up the reflecting surface as San brings you apart piece by piece.

Here’s the thing. You rarely visit San at the company building, but the few times you do, more often than not, it ends with you both getting frisky somewhere inappropriate.

Like that one time he sat you on the long table in one of the meeting rooms and fucked you silly. You had your legs wrapped around his waist, two of his fingers in your mouth keeping your tongue busy and your moans restricted to quiet whimpers.

Or when you had him silently begging you to let him come, fingers tangled in your hair while you took your sweet time sucking him off in the gym room.

Likewise, today you find yourself bent down, face and chest up against the practice room mirror as you watch your hot, ragged breaths fog the reflecting surface. Your skirt is bunched up around your waist and your soaked panties are down, twisted and forgotten around your ankles. San is glued to your back while his skillful fingers play with your clit in tight circular motions, deliberately building up your pleasure.

He's been teasing you for what feels like hours, even though it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. At this point you are soaked, deliciously aching, you can feel the rush of blood in your veins. You are just so needy it is like you are about to burn up from inside out.

It stopped surprising you long ago how effortlessly San can get you wet for him. Maybe it's the heated look in his eyes, blown-out pupils holding the promise of driving you wild, or the way his soft lips mold into yours, coaxing your tongue to follow his lead. Most of all, his husky voice, heavy with want and dripping desire as he spills sugar-coated obscenities in your ear.

"Good things come to those who wait," San teases before he licks the sweat off the side of your neck. "Lucky for you, I'm not feeling very patient today, either."

Thank God! If being honest, you don't know for how much longer you can take this sweet torture. When San grabs onto your hair, pulling your face up so you can stare at your own reflection, you need to use your hands to brace yourself against the mirror in order to find any sort of balance.

"Look at yourself, baby. So desperate and eager," his voice was viciously teasing. "I want you to see what you look like when I'm working you up, making you feel so good," he says.

With no further warning his fingers trace away from your clit, his middle finger gently finding its way into you from behind. It causes your eyes to close shut and a restrained moan to form on your lips. At the same time, you feel a harsh tug to your scalp followed by a hissed demand by your ear.

"I told you to watch." San’s voice was stoic, grave, in a manner you rarely heard from him. It was not a request. There is no way you can stop the shudder running down your body, dissipating in a pleasant, expectant warmth all the way to the tip of your fingers and toes.

So you watch with half-lidded eyes the blush on your cheeks and the redness of your parted lips. The burning need you have for him stamped on your face as San fingers you at a slow and steady pace, his darkened eyes transfixed by your image and the smallest changes he can see on your features as he does his best to make you come apart. He doesn’t have to try too hard to get you to succumb to him, really.

San’s ring finger joins the first one, his strokes precise as his thumb circles your other entrance in a light caress. You gasp, surprised, your legs turning weak at the silent promise of something more. He pushes in a little, not even enough to breach the tight muscle, chuckling at your frustrated whine.

"We can play like that some other time, beautiful." San breathes out, full lips brushing against your sweaty temple in a messy kiss. There is a sudden emptiness, your walls clenching around nothing when he pulls back and brings his fingers up to wrap his lips around them. Count on him to make a spectacle of licking them clean as if lapping at the sweetest of nectars while humming in delight.

He licks into your mouth, your neck twisted at an awkward angle guided by his hand still wrapped in your hair, but all that matters is tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss is feverish, frantic. If not for you being on the brink of insanity, you’d be perfectly content to just stay like this.

Kissing San is on the top of your “favorite things to do” list. He kisses with hunger and intent, his kisses talk of devotion and adoration. They make you lightheaded, euphoric. You are pretty sure you will never have any need for drugs because San is enough to keep you addicted.

"You're delicious," he says. The sudden weight in San's voice doesn't go unnoticed and your body's reaction is immediate, tightening the coil in your lower stomach, electricity running like pinpricks under your skin.

There is warmth where San is rutting against your asscheek, a thin trail of precum the evidence of his arousal. You feel the loosening pull on your scalp, your head falling forward as San’s hand runs down your neck, in between your shoulders, fingers trailing your spine until he can grip at your hips.

He uses his other hand to guide himself, running the tip of his cock along your slit, spreading your wetness and making goosebumps rise on your skin in anticipation. He is probing, provoking, but still not giving you what you desperately want from him.

"Tell me how bad you want it," he growls lowly. You can tell by his labored breathing just how worked up he also is.

A slight smirk graces your lips at the thought you are the one causing his sweet demise.

"I want it all. I want everything you have to give me." With your eyes focused on his through the mirror, you lick your lips in a clear invitation, your voice not faltering a bit. “Ruin me, San.”

Giving San the power to do whatever he wants to you made you feel powerful too. Yes, you were under him, at his mercy and will, but you gave him that, you allowed it. He can be the one calling the shots right now, but inevitably you are the one that’s got him wrapped around your fingers. The rush of adrenaline at the thought goes straight into your core, making you pulse, waiting for his next move.

The groan that leaves San’s throat while he slowly but steadily enters you is enough proof of the effect you have on him.

San doesn’t give you much time to adjust. Once completely sheathed inside he pulls almost all the way back, thrusting in again at a lazy, appreciative pace. He knows very well how much you enjoy the feeling of his cock dragging against your clenching walls. He knows how to build you up just to bring you crashing down in the most exhilarating way. There is not a doubt you will crash and burn for him, over and over, if it means he never stops making you feel like this.

It doesn’t take long for him to pick up his rhythm, making it hard for you to contain a breathy moan when you stare at the mirror, getting lost in his reflection once again. There are beads of sweat gathering on his hairline, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The tip of his tongue is peeking between his parted lips, giving him a boyish yet sinful appearance.

He catches your gaze and brings a hand up to run it through his hair, pushing back the sweaty locks while winking at you playfully. You are about to roll your eyes at his silly - but effective - teasing, but instead, you roll them in pleasure when there is a shift in angle as San leans in to lick and leave open-mouthed kisses on your neck. The faint scrape of his teeth on your skin makes you arch your back. When he bites down on your heated flesh, you cry out in a shameless whine.

“I'm so close baby,” San’s breath is warm and damp when his husky voice reaches your ear. “Cum with me.”

His left hand is on your hips, nails digging half-crescent marks where they grip, guiding and pushing you back on his cock. With his right arm wrapped around your waist, his hand comes down between your legs to play with your clit as his thrusts become increasingly more eager.

Everything is hot,sweaty and sticky, San’s broad frame pushing your upper-body flat against the mirror. You can feel the pull in your stomach getting tighter, tighter, until it finally breaks and you are coming with a high pitched moan that sounds too loud when it echoes on the walls of the empty room. San’s fingers still move in slow circles on your, by now, extra sensitive clit, waiting for you to ride out the intense waves of pleasure and the only lingering feeling to be pure bliss.

Not a second later, you feel his body tense up and the sudden emptiness leaves you breathless when San pulls out, stroking his cock in quick movements until he’s also coming, staining the back of your thighs in a decadent painting he can’t stop staring at.

The weight of San’s forehead touching between your shoulder blades is comforting and welcomed while he rests for a few seconds until his breathing is back to a more steady pace. Silently, he strips out of his damp t-shirt, using the soft fabric to diligently help you clean up.

“I have a spare one in my bag,” he smiles sheepishly, dimples and all, quickly intervening when you’re about to complain and stop his actions.

Defeated by the beautiful upturn of his lips, you let him dote on you for a couple of minutes before pulling your underwear up, adjusting your clothes and turning in his arms to fully lodge yourself into his embrace. You kiss him again, tongue licking into his mouth unhurriedly, simply enjoying the proximity of your bodies, one hand tangled in his dark locks and the other running softly over his bare chest. San is handsome like this, disheveled and pliant under your touch.

There’s a knock on the door and before you can pull away from each other, a mop of dark hair peeks in, a pair of lively brown eyes taking in the room before finally landing on you and San.

Caught out of guard, but definitely amused by the situation, Wooyoung stares at both of you for a minute, a knowing smile on his face when he finally speaks. “Will you two ever stop fucking on company’s premises?”

Staring right back at his best friend, San doesn’t miss one beat. “No,” he says matter of factly, laying a soft kiss to the top of your head. His hands are warm where they rest idly on your waist, holding you close.

You let out a muffled laugh at your boyfriend’s bluntness from where you’re hiding your face in the crook of his neck. In all honesty, the fact that Wooyoung has been aware of your escapades all along is incredibly hot.

Against your best judgment, you lean back a little and throw a quick glance at San that has him nodding as a sly smirk takes over his lips. You are glad he was quick in getting the hint and ready to play along.

“Why, Wooyoung? Interested in joining next time?” you say, turning around to face him and sending a small, sultry wink his way as San takes the opportunity to kiss the side of your neck, eyes never leaving Wooyoung.

Wooyung worries at his bottom lip, a small crease appearing in the space between his eyebrows as if pondering about the offer for a while. By now, he’s leaning against the door frame and you spare a moment to take in his form: arms crossed in front of his chest, muscles bulging just the right way under his t-shirt, a slim waist, black skinny jeans doing nothing at all to hide the curve of his hips or the thickness of his thighs. Wooyoung was enticing in completely different ways from San and there’s no denying the attraction and heavy sexual tension permeating the air around the three of you right now.

The change in Wooyoung’s features is clear, and San notices the mischievous glint in his eyes and daunting tongue wetting his lips at the same time you do. The rush of excitement and anticipation in your veins is almost instant, making you unconsciously grind back against San, earning yourself a low moan in your ear and fingers in a tighter grip over your hips.

Wooyoung smiles, cocky, he knows the effect he has on others and knows perfectly well how to use it to his advantage. When he speaks, it is full of confidence, with no room for second thoughts or any doubts.

“Gladly.”

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

Hi~ It’s been a while! How are you all doing?

Hope you enjoyed your steamy, sexy reading ;D Thank you for stopping by and taking the time to read it. This one was a wip for so long I’m glad I finally got the motivation to finish it. As usual, any comments or feedback is greatly appreciated, or if you just want to talk and ramble about other things don’t feel shy. My ask is always open!

#ateez smut #san smut #ateez x reader #choi san x reader #ateez fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut

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sourwolphs · 4 years ago

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Like an Animal - Bucky x Reader (1/8)

Read on Ao3 (For better interface + formatting)

Summary: Reader is an enhanced Omega kidnapped by Hydra and trapped in a cell with Alpha Bucky Barnes. Tags: A/B/O, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Rated M, Kidnapping, Degrading Language (not from Bucky) A/N: This story takes place post-Endgame, but everyone is happy and living in the compound and nobody died :-) Because I said so. Also switches POV between Reader and Bucky, with Reader in first person and Bucky in third! Follows typical A/B/O dynamics, with some random headcanons thrown in and explained.

The first thing I felt was the searing pain in my wrists.

My eyes flickered open, slowly taking in my surroundings, my heartbeat picking up as each terrifying detail came into my line of sight. My back ached terribly, cold cement beneath my skin. I was slumped in the corner of some kind of cell. It was dimly lit—just light enough to reveal the shadows of the large space, and the light of a hallway stretching to my right through the bars of the cell. I looked down at my body to find it clad in the clothes I’d been wearing the night before. My shoes were missing, plain socks dirty on my feet.Worst of all— my wrists were bound in a thick metal band, glowing with a soft blue light that ached where it touched my skin.

My memories were blurry. The last thing I remembered was approaching the front door of my 3rd floor walkup late at night, seeing a shadow slip from the dark alley to my left, before everything went black.

The red-haired agent had warned me it was only a matter of time before those with bad intentions discovered me and the things I could do. If I could, I would have kicked myself for not listening to her when I’d been warned.

I lifted my hands to test my powers, summoning the energy I felt like an icy throb in my chest. But when I tried to channel it down through my hands, urging even a snowflake to appear, all I felt was a stinging pain. Whatever the device on my wrists was, it completely neutralized my abilities. If my heart had been beating fast before, now I was approaching unprecedented levels of panic. Deep breaths, deep breaths, I told myself. Panicking won’t get you out of here. But as I took my next inhale, my other senses kicked in.

The second thing I realized? I was not alone in this cell.

I could smell my own scent, layered with sickly sweet anxiety and the sharp, metallic scent of panic. But a foreign scent, distinctly Alpha drifted towards me from the shadows of the cell. I instinctually curled closer to the wall, my Omega hindbrain working overtime to protect me. Bare your throat. Make yourself small. You are defenseless. Not like I needed the reminder with the sharp pain still throbbing at my wrists.

I curled into a small ball, taking a quiet gulp of breath to assess the situation as I peered futilely through the shadows. I didn’t smell anger, or danger—just a heady, strong Alpha scent. Cedar, a hint of campfire and the crisp, clean scent of… snow. Not typical. But… good.

But the Alpha scent also had a hint of something else. Something strong. Something like rut. I tilted my head, confused— I heard a shifting, and the glint of metal moving in the far right corner of the cell. Two pinpricks of light—his eyes— lifted up and connected with mine.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose in fear. An Alpha nearing rut. Locked in a cell. With me. I took another few deep lungfuls of air, willing my heart rate to slow down and making myself smaller. Whoever locked me in here couldn’t have had good intentions. Should I… introduce myself?

I didn’t get the chance to decide. A door at the end of the hallway opened, and a pack of men filed in to stand outside the cell doors, peering in at me. I squared my jaw, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep myself centered and tamp down on the inner voice telling me to submit.

“Not so powerful now, are you?” barked a weaselly looking Beta at the front of the group. He wore a tactical vest, buckled in an X shape in the front. His muscles, overcompensating an embarrassing amount for his designation, bulged on his compact frame.

I glared at him. “What do you want with me?” I spit.

He laughed. “Careful with that nasty attitude, Omega.”

I suppressed the disgusted shiver that trembled down my spine at his use of my designation.

“Big Guy in there won’t like a defiant bitch,” he continued. The men at the back of his pack laughed darkly. “Better get ready to submit.”

The Alpha in the corner was still motionless— still staring. I felt dread settle in a pit in my stomach at what they implied. Show no weakness. I put on my most defiant face.

“Oh, him?” I tossed my head in the Alpha’s direction, feigning indifference. Don’t show fear. “You can’t scare me. Take these cuffs off me and let’s see who submits first.”

The Beta growled, the laughter momentarily draining from his face, hackles raised. “Shut up, whore.” Then, he seemed to remember I was in the cell and he was outside of it. He smirked, before turning around to head back down the hallway with his pack. “You’ll see.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

I let out the breath I’d been holding as quietly as I could, willing my anxiety to settle so I could think. But it was then that the Alpha decided to stand and stalk slowly towards me.

Rationally, I knew Alphas were big and scary. They always were— overly tall, overly aggressive, insufferably controlling and dominant, and so strong-scented it made me feel lightheaded and stuffy. But this Alpha, well, all of the above was an understatement. He was tall and broad-shouldered with a wide chest and legs thick with muscle. He was wearing tight-fit, black clothing that showed off the muscles of his body to an exorbitant degree, and it looked, well, tactical—buckles and straps and belts with holsters that had been disarmed by whoever threw him in here with me. His face was still mostly in shadow in the dim cell, but I could make out curtains of brown hair and a strong jawline speckled with stubble. And the closer he got to me, the stronger his unique scent grew, washing over me like a wave— along with the growing scent of his rut.

You’re staring. Be small, my Omega hindbrain reminded me. I cowered, feeling fear wash over me again. What if he was in on this with them….I didn’t let myself think that far. I turned my head to the side slightly, baring my throat in an appeasing way to the dominant force in the room.

Then the Alpha’s full form came into my line of sight, and I realized exactly who I had been trapped in a cage with. Oh, fuck.

—————

Bucky didn’t know what possessed him to step forward. Chivalry, perhaps? Though according to Steve, that whole concept had died in the 21st century. Omegas didn’t look to Alphas for protection the way they had in the 40s. Something urged him towards the defiant Omega in the corner, and he would be lying if it didn’t partially have to do with her intoxicating scent and the weird and uncharacteristic prickliness he was experiencing that he couldn’t shake off. Her scent was sweet like peppermint, laced with the crispness of a cold gust of winter wind, but her anxiety at waking up across from him had soured it slightly. He didn’t blame her—but he couldn’t resist another lungful.

Bucky stepped forward slowly, his movements measured so as not to scare her. She had pushed herself as far into the corner as possible, her throat bared and chest rising and falling quickly. But as his face—and his recognizable arm— came into view, he saw the change in her expression as realization dawned. She gasped, her scent turning dark and desperate with fear. He stopped short, swallowing. Fuck.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured. Then, improvising, he lowered to his knees in a position he hoped looked as non-threatening as possible, turning his face to the side to show her his throat in return. “I’m not going to hurt you. It’s… I’m—“ He stopped, shutting his eyes in resignation. This was not going well. She was still panicked, curling in on herself.

“I’m in control,” he said, hoping that would be enough to quell her fears. These days, the public knew all about the Winter Soldier and the horrible things his hands had done. But Shuri had erased the loophole from his brain over six years ago now, if you count the blip. Which is why it made no sense that Hydra had gone to such lengths to trap him here on a mission gone awry in Northern Europe.

Now wasn’t the time to dwell, though. He estimated he’d been trapped here for no more than about 15 hours, and he didn’t doubt that Steve, Sam and the rest of the team would track this base down within 24. He’d already examined his body for injuries, tested the bars for give and scoped out any other potential entry and exit points before Hydra agents had cracked the cell door with three assault rifles trained on him and dumped the Omega inside three hours ago. The only thing that felt off was this strange, growing feeling that he needed to get out of his skin. He’d already removed his outer layer of Kevlar, feeling hotter than normal.

The woman looked normal enough, besides the panic taking over her faculties and the unknown, bulky device clasped around her wrists. She was small, but deceptively strong—he could see the lean lines of muscle on her limbs. Her long hair was loose around her pretty face, and they’d removed her shoes— if she’d even been wearing any in the first place. But god, her smell. Bucky couldn’t help taking another deep lungful, trying to be as discreet as possible. It was like his body was on autopilot, drifting closer and closer to where she was pressed against the wall.

She looked confused by his placating bared throat. Nowadays, Alphas were insufferable hotheads. She’d probably never seen one so willing to submit to an Omega. Bucky noticed that the rise and fall of her chest was slowing. “A-are you really….?” she practically whispered.

He nodded, clenching his jaw. “The Winter Soldier?”

She nodded back—so small, it was almost imperceptible.

“You can call me Bucky. I’m not— The Winter Soldier doesn’t exist anymore.” He laughed a little. “They actually call me the White Wolf now…”

Something was wrong with his body. He was feeling itchy—painfully so now. He shifted forward even closer, on his knees, and she flinched imperceptibly— turning to face the wall next to her. He took another deep lungful of her scent, and the sweetness lit every cell in his body on fire. Was he… getting hard?

Realizing her distress and how close he’d gotten to her body, Bucky stood up and put distance between them. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s going on…” He gasped. Her scent was addicting. His Alpha was screaming at him to close the distance, grab her, shove his face into her scent gland and inhale. To run his hands all over her body, to rut into her, to sink his teeth into her gland and bite, to claim her as his own and mark her body all over…. Holy shit. He was going into rut. After 75 fucking years, he was going into rut while trapped in a Hydra cell with an unmated Omega.

Against his better instincts and training, Bucky started to panic.

————

I could tell exactly the moment that the Winter Soldier—Bucky, I corrected myself— realized what was happening. He’d been drifting closer and closer to me, his ice blue eyes trained on my gland, taking deep lungfuls of my scent as if I couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing.

When he recognized my distress, he forced distance between us, wiping sweat from his forehead and inspecting his hands—one flesh, one metal— as if they’d have an answer.

“Rut,” I said quietly. Our eyes connected. His were wide, panicked. His scent was sharp with fear and anxiety, so strong with lust it was making me dizzy. I pushed my forehead against the cold cement wall to center myself. Why would they kidnap me as Omega bait for a fucking Avenger? Why me?

“I’m on suppressants—I don’t know how…” He trailed off, then abruptly ripped the leather sleeve off his shirt in one swipe to inspect his upper arm. Holy shit, he was strong. I mean, I knew he was a super soldier, but Jesus Christ. “They stuck me with something.” His jaw was set in a tight line when he turned back to look at me, pupils blown wide with lust.

I swallowed hard, squeezing my eyes shut. This couldn’t be happening.

He growled sharply in frustration, slamming his metal fist into the concrete wall of the cell so hard that cracks appeared on impact. I yelped in fear, my heart racing. Before I could open my mouth to apologize submissively, he dropped down to his knees again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I—“ He cut off, growling in frustration, fists clenched at his sides. He shook out his head, his hair falling in front of his eyes, before he looked up to meet mine again. “Please, don’t be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you,” he said through gritted teeth.

I nodded weakly, feeling the tears start to spill from my eyes. He was trembling now. Whatever they gave him was working quickly, and the strain of keeping himself contained was obvious in the restrained quiver of his limbs. Maybe I was fucking crazy, but I actually felt sorry for him. An ex-assassin Avenger twice my size, pumped full of super soldier serum and rut hormones. That couldn’t feel good— especially not with his history.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated again. This time, it seemed more like he was trying to convince himself. His hands were clenched so hard I could hear his Vibranium fist squeak with the strain. “I won’t. I won’t—“ he gasped for a centering breath.

Against all rational instinct, I started to believe him. He wouldn’t hurt me. At least— he really didn’t want to.

I knew about the Winter Soldier. Everyone did. How Hydra had kidnapped him, tortured him, and turned him into a brainwashed weapon for their murderous intent. I couldn’t imagine how horrible this would be for him— with his very public history— to have control wrested from him again. Especially like this.

Comfort Alpha, my inner Omega cooed unhelpfully. Alpha is hurting. Help him.

Fighting back my fear, I came to my hands and knees on the cell floor, shuffling a few paces forward until we were only a few feet apart. He was still shaking slightly, murmuring to himself in what sounded like Russian, breathing shallowly. I risked another lungful of his scent, and it made my Omega go wild. I felt my own body start reacting to his arousal, my scent billowing out in soothing notes, slick between my legs. It was impossible for Omegas to launch into a sympathetic heat when they were distressed or in danger, but I couldn’t ignore how intoxicating his scent was to me— or the growing need I felt to soothe and calm him as his chest heaved with the strain of restraining himself.

“Get— Get away from me. I can’t—“ he spit through gritted teeth. I paused, hesitating, my bound hands reaching towards his knee. “I don’t want to hurt you—“

“It’s okay,” I murmured soothingly, hardly recognizing the calm sound of my voice when my heart was racing a million miles an hour inside my chest. I was too cowardly to be a hero before, when the red-haired agent had found me and urged me to join her. I had always run from responsibility and hidden my abilities from the world. Maybe today, I could be courageous.

I placed my hands on his forearm, feeling the sweat-slick heat of him. His head slowly raised to look at me. Up close, I could see his plush lips, the stubble along his jaw, his pupils blown wide with lust. His scent, God.

“I know you won’t hurt me,” I said. Bucky was panting now. “I— I trust you.” He narrowed his eyes at me disbelievingly, but my words and tempting closeness seemed to tamp down his initial panic. He leaned in closer, close enough that I could see the stubble of his jaw, his adorably delicate ears tucked behind the loose strands of hair framing his face, the plush cupid’s bow of his lips.

The pictures in the news don’t do Alpha justice, my Omega murmured.

“Isn’t someone coming for you? Aren’t you, like… a superhero?” I asked.

He grimaced, breaking eye contact. “I’m not a hero. But the team should be here within a few hours. We’ve never… lost someone for longer.”

I took a shaky breath. Okay. So we’re getting out of here.

“Do you know what they want?” I murmured. I could guess. Scum like Hydra only see Omegas as good for one thing: breeding. But I didn’t want to voice the horrible thoughts out loud.

He scoffed. “Whatever it is… I won’t do it.” The resolve set in his jaw, muscles ticking as we made eye contact again, the scent of his rage and restrained instincts washing over me— bitter as gunpowder and steel. He was still trembling, fists clenched. “I won’t.”

I felt something soften inside of me at his words. I should be terrified, rolling over on my stomach to submit— throat bared —but I felt… protected.

“Do you mind— Would it be okay if I—“ He cut himself off, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and looking pained.

“If…?”

“It helps if I can… scent you,” he sighed. “I won’t—“

Before he could finish that thought, I nodded my head in assent. There’s no greater pain to an Alpha in rut than being unable to touch. I shifted off my knees, intending to curl against his side, but he shocked me by standing and scooping me up into his arms, returning to the shadowy corner of the cell he’d been in when I’d first woken up. I bristled a little at his intentions, but he quickly set me down on a soft pile of leather and thick canvas that smelled strongly of his heady cedar scent— clothes he must have shed from the heat of rut.

“Sorry,“ He murmured. “I won’t touch you if you—“

“It’s okay,” I interrupted, taking a deep breath to steady myself and leaning back to get more comfortable. He hovered over me, propping his metal arm by my head. His ice blue eyes searched mine, our breaths loud in the quiet of the cell as we settled into the comfort of each others’ scents. I tilted my head to the side a bit, feeling my mating gland peek out from behind my hair.

Bucky growled softly, leaning down to press his face into my neck and taking deep lungfuls of my scent. I squeezed my eyes shut, bringing my bound hands awkwardly to touch his side to anchor myself. Under my palms, I could feel the tension leaving his muscles as he breathed me in.

“Omega,” he groaned, his voice raspy and deep. I shivered. Arousal stirred in me again, his chest pressed tight to mine as he nose trailed up and down my neck, into my hair and onto my cheek. “You smell so good. Fuck,” he whispered.

He was starting to lose himself. His flesh hand came to my waist, strong grip catching me off guard as he settled closer to me. My heart rate picked up again, and I fought the urge to bolt. Alpha won’t hurt you, my Omega supplied. Please your Alpha. Bucky must have picked up on my fear, because he pushed himself back.

“Sorry. I’ll—“ He shifted so he was laying next to me but with his lower half intentionally tilted away, arm across my waist and face near enough to my gland that he could continue to breathe me in. “Okay?” He grunted. I nodded, shocked that he was able to control himself enough to hold himself stiffly away from me. The scent of rut was so strong that from what I knew about Alphas, he should be animalistic with lust— unable to stop himself from shredding my clothes and taking me on the cell floor. Small mercies.

“Sleep,” he said gruffly. When I didn’t move or shut my eyes, he tightened his much gentler grip on my waist. “Please. I won’t… I won’t do anything. We’ll be out of here, before…” he trailed off, again. Boy, was he a man of few words. But he didn’t need to say it out loud for me to understand his meaning: Much longer, and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

I took another soothing breath, trying to settle myself. Alpha wants you to sleep, my Omega purred. Alpha will protect you. For once in my life, I listened. I took in a lungful of his strong smell, taking comfort in the protective weight of his arm thrown over me, and let myself drift off.

#like an animal #my fic #bucky x reader #buckyreader #bucky reader insert #bucky x yn

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thishintoflove · 4 years ago

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"Bad Blood" - A Bloodsucking Bastards Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 7 (we made it, ya’ll!)

Pairing: Max Phillips x F!Reader

Warnings: Mature but not explicit (still 18+ though please). Language, Non-descriptive mentions of sex, Blood drinking, Non-consensual vampirism

Warnings: You and Max were in a happy, established relationship until one night he accidentally goes too far... and you wake up as a vampire.

A/N: I actually had a lot of fun writing for Max, I hope he’s in-character enough! As a current MBA student, I’ve definitely experienced guys with his same “business bro” vibe.

You were going to be angry at him for the rest of eternity.

How many times did you tell him that you weren’t ready to be turned yet? It felt like a million times. You needed more time, you wanted to think about it more, it was a big decision…

And then he messed up. He made a mistake. It was an “accident”.

That didn’t mean you weren’t still pissed at him.

Did you think we'd be fine?

Still got scars on my back from your knife

So don't think it's in the past

These kind of wounds they last and they last

The night of “the incident” started like any other. You and Max have been dating for a couple of months at this point and you’ve established a regular nighttime routine. He’d come over after work, he’d watch you and distract you with kisses as you made dinner for yourself, you’d settle down together on the couch for a show or movie, and then he’d fuck your brains out until midnight.

It was a good routine and it worked well for you both. You didn’t mind that your boyfriend was a vampire, which meant you could never actually share a meal together. You ate your dinner at a normal hour, and then later in the night, Max would have his. Sometimes he’d leave your bed and go out on a midnight hunt but other nights... you let yourself be the meal. At first you were wary of letting him feed from you, but he promised he’d be gentle and he was. Working it into your sex life was just a bonus. It actually felt good most of the time. The venom stung at first but as soon as it worked its magic, it spread a numbing, calming sensation through your veins. Vampires wanted compliant prey, so you figured it made sense.

Tonight was one of those special nights. Max loved it, obviously. He swore your blood tasted better than any other human he’d tried so far. For your part, you were just pleased to see your boyfriend so giddy. You loved watching his face light up like a kid on Christmas when you responded ‘yes’ after he asked permission.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he muttered, sucking your lower lip between his teeth as he kissed you. You moaned into his mouth and shifted your hips against his pelvis as you writhed beneath him on the bed. He had one leg between your thighs and your arms were wrapped around his shoulders and back, desperate for as much friction as possible.

“You feel so good,” you hummed, wanting to feel him everywhere. He pulled back a little and grinned down at you,

“Not as good as you, baby,” he replied. He trailed kisses along your jaw before moving down to your neck. You gasped and gripped the hair at the back of his head as he zeroed in on a particular spot. He devoted his entire focus to this new area- kissing and licking it until your entire body was covered in goosebumps.

His lips closed around the spot he was nuzzling and suddenly his teeth were sinking in. His tongue prodded at the raw spot as his teeth sunk beneath your skin, pulling a soft whimper out of you. The way he attacked the wound made you wince, all of his slowness and caution gone. The effect his feeding had on you was unsurprisingly intense-- one moment you couldn’t catch your breath, the next your breath came too fast.

Your teeth caught on your bottom lip but that did nothing to stifle your gasp as his hand slid to your thigh as he fed. The sound seemed to encourage him. All he did was suck-- suck the whole area dry of any moisture, and that suction was so hard it hurt but your body went flush with warmth and pleasure just the same. You always felt a little ashamed after, a little bit twisted and guilty when you recalled your enjoyment of this process.

Suddenly you felt more lightheaded then usual, and one of the last lingering threads of your rationality screamed at you to stop this. Max didn’t typically feed for this long- usually it was a couple of swallows and then he pulled back… but he wasn’t stopping this time.

“Max,” you gasped, knowing you couldn’t take much more-- you could feel your limbs going dangerously numb. “Max...stop...”

Your calls were soft, more pleading than insistent, and they didn’t seem to reach Max. He growled, the possessive sound echoing through your body. You could sense a wave of darkness crashing over your consciousness, and you realized that you were going to die. You were too weak to do anything, but you let out a sigh as the darkness took you. At least if you had to die now, you could say you died in the arms of someone who loved you.

***

But you didn’t die. Not really.

When you came back to yourself, Max was still there-- sitting as still as a stone statue at the end of the bed, watching you closely with wide, worried eyes.

You felt different. Everything seemed loud and bright, as if all your senses were supercharged. And your body… it felt… still. As if everything inside of you had just stopped, but your mind was still active. You finally realized what happened: you were dead. Or more accurately, you’d died and now you were a fucking vampire. A look of horror must have crossed your face because Max quickly reached for your hands and pleaded,

“I’m so sorry, love, please…. I didn’t mean to, you have to believe me-”

“Get. Out.”

Your voice was raw and strained. You couldn’t believe it. How could you have let this happen? How could he have let this happen? Max promised he’d always remain in control with you, but he didn’t. He couldn’t control himself and now you were a monster. Just like him.

“I never meant for it to go this far, but at least I stopped myself before you went dry!” Max babbled, desperately trying to meet your eyes but you remained frozen in place, staring at the wall. “You’re not dead, you’re just… like me now. That’s not so bad-”

“I said, get out, Max!” you yelled, ripping your hands away and standing from the bed. You crossed your arms across your chest, trying not to cry when you realized you couldn’t feel your own heartbeat. Then you realized you couldn’t cry either.

Max didn’t move to touch you again but you heard him stand from the bed- your new senses giving you a clear image in your mind of what he was doing even though your back was turned. “Baby, please listen-”

“Don’t make me say it again. You’ve done enough. Now leave me alone.”

He sighed, but he didn’t argue anymore. You remained frozen in place as he gathered his things and left your apartment. You didn’t move until you heard his car driving away down the street.

And when you did move, finally, you went hunting. Because the only thing you could focus on, besides your intense anger at Max, was your extreme desire for human blood.

Now we got problems

And I don't think we can solve them

You made a really deep cut

And baby now we got bad blood

You took two weeks paid vacation after Max turned you. Getting the time-off approved was easy since your boss was also your guilty (potentially ex) boyfriend.

When you did come back to the office, the other vampire employees welcomed you with open arms. You felt a little more like your old self as you jumped back into your regular work routine, but on your second day back Max called you into his office for a private meeting. You’d been avoiding him for two weeks- ignoring his texts, calls, and emails- and you braced yourself for the awkwardness of having your first conversation happen at the office.

“Glad to have you back,” he said, standing up behind his desk and gesturing for you to sit down.

You frowned at his casual tone. “Yeah. Well. Even vampires have to pay the bills, right?”

You thought you noticed his perfect grin falter for a moment before he quickly shook it off with a chuckle.

“That is so true. I’m glad to see you getting back into the swing of things.”

You merely hummed in response, eyeing him warily as he slowly circled his desk and came to stand right in front of you. His business smile slowly melted into a sultry smirk as he leaned forward towards you,

“So… is it safe to assume that you’re here because you’re ready to pick up where we left off?”

“Oh Max, I know you’re not that stupid,” you grumbled, glaring at him as he reached out to card his fingers through your hair.

“What do you mean?”

You responded by grabbing his hand and easily flipping him over your shoulder using all your new vampire strength, so that he landed hard on the ground behind your chair.

“You’re not forgiven. I’m still mad at you,” you growled, turning to look at him on the floor. He wasn’t actually injured, obviously, but he looked hurt and confused.

“Baby pleeeease, I miss you!” he whined, giving you a pouty face that you used to find adorable before he’d accidentally turned you into a damn vampire without your consent.

“Stop it. I told you I need more time.”

“Fine.” he pouted, standing up and smoothing out the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “I can wait. You’ll forgive me eventually.”

“We’ll see about that,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“You will. You’ll realize that this is actually a gift. And I know I shouldn’t have done it so soon, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You stood up from the chair and shook your head as you prepared to leave his office.

“Whatever you say, Max…”

Now did you think it all through?

All these things will catch up to you

And time can heal but this won't

So if you come in my way, just don't

“I have a surprise for you!”

Max’s sing-song voice interrupted your peaceful lunch break. As a vampire, you obviously had no need for human food, but you still preferred to take a break at lunch time. You were currently alone in the break room, reading a magazine and enjoying the silence. You frowned at Max as he waltzed into the room.

“No need to frown, baby! I brought you a treat.”

He was grinning and holding something behind his back. You carefully shook your head and lay down your magazine. “I’m not your baby anymore, Max.”

“Not right now maybe, but you’ll take me back after you see what I’ve brought you!”

“Fine, I’ll bite,” you replied with a roll of your eyes, “What is it?”

Max pulled the object from behind his back and held it out to you. You tilted your head, trying to figure out what it was, before you realized it was a blood bag. A hospital grade, completely filled, blood bag.

“I know you don’t like the idea of ‘getting messy’ during work hours-”

“You mean I don’t like committing murder and sucking people dry during work hours? Yes, you’re correct,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes again.

“Well… I found a solution for you. Easy, portable, delicious blood on-the-go!”

You frowned in disapproval. “You can’t just steal blood from donation centers!” you told him incredulously, not caring when his face fell at your disappointed tone, “Where did you even get this? The Red Cross? The hospital? There are people who really need this stuff!”

“Who cares?” Max replied, looking genuinely confused, “They’re all going to die at some point anyway.”

You shook your head, “This is why I wasn’t ready to be turned. You’ve lost your humanity and I’m not ready to jump onboard the ‘fuck the whole human race’ train yet. I know you thought you were being sweet, but this is wrong.”

“Oh. Well if you don’t want it…”

A growl rose in your throat as those words left his lips. As much as you disagreed with his methods, your new vampire instincts were screaming at you to snatch the blood bag from his hands and gulp it down until you were finally satisfied. The scent of the blood called to you, sang to you in the sweetest tone, and it was taking everything you had not to completely lose it right now.

“No, I’ll take it,” you said a little too quickly, reaching for the bag, “Just don’t do it again.”

Max smirked as he handed the blood bag over.

“That’s what I thought. I remember what it’s like to be a new vampire”, he said quietly, stepping closer to you, “how hungry you are before you’re able to improve your tolerance and time between feedings… I’m just trying to help you.”

He leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the top of your head, but you snarled and pushed him back. He merely chuckled as he watched you rip open the blood bag and begin to suck it down.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. He backed away and casually leaned against the door frame. If you were thinking straight, you’d feel annoyed and even embarrassed to have him watch you sink into a feeding frenzy but your human mind was long gone. So you sucked every drop of blood from the bag as he stared in admiration.

Oh, it's so sad to think about the good times

You and I

'Cause baby now we got bad blood

As much as you were still angry at Max, you really did miss him.

Things were going really well in your relationship before he made the fatal mistake. You had a lot in common. You were both focused on succeeding at work, you both hated whining and incompetence, and you shared a similar sense of humor. But you weren’t sure how you were supposed to forgive such a major breach of trust.

Rationally you knew it was a mistake and that you’d agreed to him feeding from you in the first place, and accidents happen… but the irrational side of you wanted to stay mad at him. It was easier to have someone to blame. It let you off the hook as you tried to grapple with your new reality and decide if it was something you really did want. Being a vampire really wasn’t that bad, once you got used to it...

“You heading home soon? It’s past six.”

Speak of the devil…

Max’s voice interrupted your thoughts and you glanced up at him. He was hovering at the edge of your desk, his briefcase in one hand and his jacket over his arm. He gave you a small smile but his eyes were cautious, knowing that you were still mercurial around him.

“Yeah I’m just wrapping things up. I have one more report summary, and then I’ll go.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding, “Keep up the good work then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He was letting you go, and something about that made your non-beating heart soften. He was already walking toward the door when you called out,

“Or I could head out now…”

He slowly turned, and you knew him well enough to recognize that he was desperately trying to hide a smirk.

“Great, I’ll hold the elevator for you.”

You smiled and grabbed your bag. You weren’t going to let him off the hook just yet, but you knew you’d be able to forgive him someday. After all, you had all of eternity.

#max phillips #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #pedro pascal x reader #how could I not choose this song for Max Phillips #my fanfic #fanfiction tag

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oikawaplssteponme · 4 years ago

Text

PART 6 | previously: part 5 | masterlist

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: swearing, unconsciousness, violence (?)

synopsis: When UA’s hot heads, Katsuki Bakugou and you, are forced to put your hatred for each other aside and plan the third year Prom, things end up getting a little heated...

a/n: hi hi! i hope you all are doing well❤️ all i have to say is: it’s about time Y/N ;)) enjoy XX

•

Six: butterflies

For probably the first time in your life, you weren’t looking forward to Hero Training today. You didn’t feel the greatest. Today was peer evaluations but it wasn’t with Aizawa. Midnight was in charge today.

“Alright everyone! So I’m feeling generous and you can pick your partner today! One partner will demonstrate what they have been working on while the other will be providing helpful, constructive feedback. Then when I tell you, you can switch!” explained Midnight. You looked around at your classmates, unsure who you’d partner up with.

“Hey Y/N!” waved Deku, “did you maybe want to be-”

“Sorry Deku, Y/N’s with me.” You felt a hand grab your wrist.

“Kacchan? I thought you and Y/N were banned from fighting with each other?” huffed Deku. You looked up at Bakugou, who was already leading you away.

“This isn’t fighting, it’s constructive feedback. And shut up Deku.” Bakugou led you to the corner of the room, away from the other groups.

“Well damn maybe I wanted to be partners with Deku,” you said, crossing your arms. Bakugou laughed.

“And miss the opportunity for me to show you up? I don’t think so princess,” smiled Bakugou. You groaned.

“Whatever. Alright, who’s going first?”

“You obviously. You need the help,” said Bakugou.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah so what have you been working on?” he asked. You rolled your eyes.

“I’ve been practicing close combat without using my quirk. I can't rely on my quirk to get me out of every tough situation because if my body temperature is really low or my creation time is super delayed, that could cost me the fight,” you explained. Bakugou nodded.

“Alright then, so come at me Y/N. Show me what you’ve got!” yelled Bakugou. He adjusted himself into a defensive stance. You took a deep breath and got ready to strike.

“Don’t waste my time now Y/N, I haven’t got all day!” he teased.

“I’ve been looking forward to this for too long,” you smiled. You went in for a direct punch with one hand while using your other as a fake. Bakugou saw it coming though.

“Amateur work,” he mumbled. Bakugou continued to dodge you and your attacks. You began to get desperate, unable to land a solid hit on him.

“You’ve got me yawning over here princess.”

“OH FUCK OFF!” You were getting worked up at this point. You went for an uppercut shot and then whipped your leg around to kick Bakugou in the side. He fell to the ground.

“Shit-”

“Hmm guess you should’ve paid more attention,” you smirked. You helped Bakugou back to his feet.

“That kick was good but I know you’ve got way more power than that,” he said. You raised a brow.

“What do you mean?”

“Here, when you go for a side kick like that, you want to engage more than just your leg. Use your core and hips to create more momentum. Like this.” Bakugou changed his stance and whipped his leg around for a clean swing. You nodded.

“Okay…” You attempted to do the same.

“That was better but rotate your hips more, like this.” Bakugou went over to you and placed his large hands tightly on your hips. Your eyes widened.

“You want to force them to move, not just have them go with your leg. That way you generate more power,” he explained. Bakugou moved your hips as he pleased, keeping his hands firmly on you. You looked over your shoulder at Bakugou. His red eyes moved to look into yours. You never really noticed his eyes until now. They were beautiful.

“I-I…” you became instantly flustered. Bakugou’s face turned pink. His face was so close to yours, your noses almost touched.

“Uh, is this okay?” he whispered. You nodded.

“Y-Yes…”

“OKAY TIME TO SWITCH PARTNERS!” Announced Midnight. Bakugou instantly snapped out of whatever trance he was in and took his hands off of you. You turned the other way, slapping your hands over your cheeks.

“Uh so yeah just try it like that next time,” he said.

“Yup okay yeah sounds good,” you stuttered out. You tried to cool off but your face felt like a million degrees. You couldn’t understand why.

“Okay, what did you want to work on?” You asked. Bakugou looked over at you and smirked.

“I hope you brought your gloves.”

“This is a bad idea,” you insisted as you put your gloves on. Bakugou shook his head.

“No it’s a good idea. If anything it helps both of us. Now start throwing them princess,” said Bakugou. He had been focusing on quicker reflexes and his air speed while dodging. His plan was for you to throw as many of if bonds as possible, to test how he reacts.

“Bakugou if I blow you up it’s not my fault,” you huffed. Bakugou laughed.

“Your confidence amazes me. I doubt you’ll be able to even get a bond near me.”

“Oh really? Wells how’s this!” You generated a quick carbon bond and aimed it right for his head. By the time you threw it, he was already blasted up with his own explosions.

“Nice try but you’ve gotta be quicker than that. Come on you’re supposed to be challenging me!” He called. You clenched your fists.

“FINE!” You began to throw your bonds at him. One after the other after the other. Bakugou shifted from flying, dodging on the ground, and using his own explosions to cancel yours out. As much as he hated to admit it, you were giving him a run for his money.

“WOW KATSUKI, TIRED ALREADY?” You teased. Bakugou continued to counter your attacks.

“NOT EVEN CLOSE!”

You kept on throwing your bonds at him, despite the pain radiating from your entire body. You weren’t used to such speed when creating your bonds. Your cells weren’t regenerating fast enough to keep you stable. You began to feel lightheaded.

“Don’t go and get shy on me Y/N!” He yelled. Your hands ached and you felt sick. You threw one last bond before crashing to your knees.

“Hey that last one was pretty weak Y/N...Y/N?” Bakugou landed from his explosions. Your eyelids felt heavy. The last thing you saw before you collapsed was Bakugou rushing towards you.

By the time you woke up, the school day had already ended. You laid in Recovery Girl’s office, a cold towel across your head. The room was dark. You felt better so you decided to get up.

“Now where do you think you’re going?” said Recovery Girl. You jumped.

“Oh hi, sorry. Am I okay to go?” You asked. Recovery Girl smiled and patted your hand.

“You’ve gotta be more careful sweetheart. I’ve never seen you get like that before,” she said. You sighed.

“Yeah I guess I overworked myself a little,” you explained. Recovery Girl shook her head.

“More than a little dear. You’ve gotta remember that you’re only human after all, and you’ve gotta heal. It’s a good thing that blond boy brought you over here immediately,” she said. You jumped.

“Wait do you mean Bakugou?”

“Oh yes, I think that was his name. He came bursting into my office while you were still unconscious. Very heroic I dare say,” she smiled. You couldn’t believe it.

“You’re good to go sweetheart. I recommend you grab a good dinner and rest up,” Recovery Girl removed the towel from your head. You nodded.

“Right. Thank you very much.”

You stepped outside of Recovery Girl’s office and there sitting on the floor was Katsuki Bakugou.

“Bakugou?” He looked at you and got up.

“Oh you’re awake. A-are you okay?” he asked. Bakugou was twiddling his thumbs as he spoke to you. He looked a little nervous.

“Oh yeah I’m fine. Just pushed myself too far that's all,” you explained. He nodded.

“Did you wait for me this whole time?” You asked. Bakugou’s eyes widened.

“NO-well uh maybe...I just felt bad that it was kinda my fault that you ended up like this…” he mumbled. You felt your face grow hot.

“It wasn’t your fault, I was the one who pushed myself too far. I knew that it was a bad idea,” you said.

“Still...uh, the cafeteria already closed so I uh grabbed you this.” Bakugou handed you a box with rice, vegetables, and meat. You gasped.

“Bakugou...”

“It’s not a big deal I just didn’t want you to starve to death that’s all,” he huffed. You took the box from his hands.

“Thank you Katsuki,” you smiled.

“Yeah well you’ve gotta get stronger if you even think about beating me for the number one Hero spot. I want it to be a fair fight,” he said. You laughed.

“Sounds good.”

“Well, I’ll see you later Y/N.” Bakugou started to walk back to the dorms. You looked down at the box of food. You had this warm feeling all over your body. Your stomach felt tingly.

What the hell…

Then it hit you.

Do I have butterflies in my stomach?

You rushed over to the bathroom and splashed cold water on your face.

No no no this can’t be happening.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t get his image out of your brain. The way he looked at you. The way he held you. The way he teased you. They way you always wanted to be around him. The way you couldn’t go a day without thinking about him.

After that night with Bakugou, something woke up in you. It was as if you had been suppressing it for years and you just now felt it. The only problem was, you had no idea what ‘it’ was.

Now, you did.

Fuck. I’m in love with Katsuki Bakugou, aren’t I?

•

[taglist OPEN: @vangoghpoets @vangoghmusings @bokutory @complimentaryhugsgirl @cloudswritings @kriswu46 @neodnyl @evivn1 @jazzylove @mileven-reddie @whalerus @misssugarless @random-fandom-girl-24 @fanfiction-and-stress @ushiwakatrash @minhoswife @addictofsupernatural @the-shota-king-masayuki @freyafolkvangr @fourteenow @tamaguchi @lalayy @athenarosaline @blxck-coffee @katsukibabe @thatonegeekchick @that-chick212 @bibly @nxynxy ]

#willow.🌸#my hero academia #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugō #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x y/n #katsuki x y/n #mha katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #katsukibakugou #hot heads.🌸

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vvitchering · 4 years ago

Note

I love, LOVE, your writing! Would you be up for some hurt/comfort Gesekel? I'm a sucker for it, especially along the lines of Geralt thinking Eskel has died on the path but then he shows up with his grin and the whole "you should know better Wolf". 💜

I’m so happy to hear that you enjoy my writing ;w; I write for you guys so getting feedback like this literally fuels me. I am also a sucker for hurt/comfort so you are absolutely in luck~

It’s never a pretty sight when he makes his way through settlements ravaged by the war. As Nilfgaard pushes ever northward, the people suffer. Geralt is used to carnage wrought by mindless creatures, but seeing the violence done by men to men makes his stomach turn. The bright side, if it can be called a bright side, is that with war comes death, and with death come monsters. War can be profitable for witchers, if there is coin left to be paid.

He’s just north of White Orchard, in one such town left ransacked and bloody by a skirmish. The notice board had been covered in desperate pleas for assistance with the encroaching necrophages, drawn in by the stench of blood and bodies. Ghouls and Algouls looking to make meals of the dead would quickly move on to living prey once the bodies were devoured. A witcher was needed. Geralt holds one of the contract offers in his hand as he talks to the barkeep at the town’s tavern, one of the only buildings left intact.

“Ghouls were a big problem, yeah, but you’re a bit late. Another witcher beat you to them, though that might be to your benefit.”

Geralt frowns. He doesn’t often encounter other witchers. They tend to stick to their own territories.

“And how is that to my benefit exactly.” Geralt asks, already mentally counting his losses. If this town was already clean, he had a week at least to go before he again encountered a settlement big enough to find work in.

The barkeep gives him a slightly sympathetic look.

“He drove out the flesh eaters, but they still got ‘im in the end. Poisonous bite, you know? Got ‘im right in the neck and it wasn’t long before he stopped moving. Real shame. Wasn’t a bad guy for a witcher, had a bit of good humor about 'im, even with that scarred face of his.”

Geralt’s heart speeds up despite himself. There are plenty of witchers with facial scars. It’s not him.

He asks the barkeep to describe the good humored witcher.

Brown hair, strong jaw, wide nose, and terrible scars that disfigured the side of his face and twisted his mouth.

Geralt’s blood chills in his veins. It’s not possible. No way he’d let something as mundane as a ghoul take him out.

“Friend of yours?” the barkeep asks.

Geralt is reeling, still trying to process the information, still finding loopholes, when the man reaches underneath the bar and produces a long thin object, wrapped in a white sheet.

“Was gonna try to sell it, but if he was your kin it’s rightfully yours.”

Any doubt Geralt was trying to hold onto vanishes as he pushes aside the sheet. It’s a witcher’s silver sword, adorned with runes as familiar as the ones on his own sword, and altered at the grip to be easier for larger hands to wrap around comfortably. It’s Eskel’s, unquestionably. And no witcher would let his silver out of his sight unless...

“Where.” Geralt bites out. “Where is he.”

“The body? Dragged ‘im to the old oak by the hill. Couldn’t spare the labor to bury ‘im, you understand, but it seemed the least we could do for his help.”

Geralt snatches Eskel’s sword from the bar and leaves as quickly as his feet can carry him. He leaves Roach tethered outside and takes off at a run toward the hill he can see by the edge of the town. It’s a mistake. It has to be. It can’t be, the evidence is in his hands, but it must be.

There’s a figure resting at the base of a huge oak that looms into view the closer he gets to the hill. It’s not him. It can’t be him.

Geralt skids to a stop. Falls to his knees in the dirt, the sword slipping from his hands to rest in front of him.

Eskel is splattered with dried but foul smelling blood and his armor is ripped and tattered. The townspeople must have arranged him in the dignified position he laid in; back straight, eyes closed, his steel sword resting on his chest. They’ve laid him to rest like they would a respected warrior, albeit one who they couldn’t spare the resources to bury or burn.

There’s a high pitched agonized whine coming from somewhere. It takes Geralt a moment to realize it’s coming from his own throat. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this day would come. No witcher ever died in his bed. But for it to be Eskel, already... They were both still young, by witcher standards, barely men, not even at their first hundred years. And Eskel was gone.

Distantly, Geralt registers that he’s crying. He feels lightheaded, like his soul is trying to escape and go somewhere else, like it can’t stand to exist in a reality where Eskel does not. Geralt shuffles forward on his knees until Eskel is close enough to touch. He bends over the fallen witcher and presses his face to his neck, searching for his scent, one last memory to hold onto.

Eskel’s lightning storm essence is there still, underneath the putrid stink of necrophage blood. Geralt breaths it in, greedy, desperate, tears dripping from his face to Eskel’s neck and leaving tracks in the filth there.

And then he hears it. A weak fluttering thud. A heartbeat. Geralt freezes, doesn’t even dare to breath, lest he destroy himself all over again with false hope.

A moment passes. Then another.

The dull thud sounds again.

He’s alive.

The relief is sudden and all consuming. Geralt collapses, curls around Eskel as best he can with all of their armor between them, and lets his sobs shake him apart. Eskel’s heart is slow, slower than even a witcher’s should be, and his chest doesn’t move at all for how shallow his breaths are, but he’s alive.

He’s alive.

Geralt tries to match his breaths to Eskel’s and finds himself slipping into meditation. Eskel is clearly on a deeper level than Geralt has ever experienced, if being handled and transported by humans and having his sword taken from him didn’t draw him out of the trance. Geralt drifts, exhausted by both his grief and his joy, and only stirs when he feels the pillow he’s made of Eskel’s chest shift under him.

Eskel groans and it’s the most beautiful sound Geralt has ever heard in his life. He sits up in a hurry and snakes a hand under Eskel’s neck to help the larger witcher sit up. His eyes are open and his pupils shrink and grow rapidly as he blinks and reorients himself. His gaze lands on Geralt and he smiles.

“Could’ve used you here a few days ago.”

His voice is rough and dry, but the deep tones are instantly comforting.

“You so far off your game you let a few ghouls turn you into a chew toy?” Geralt teases.

Eskel rolls his eyes and and moves to rotate his shoulder until it pops satisfyingly. He stretches his neck, producing a similar crack, and Geralt catches a glimpse of the half healed bite wound on Eskel’s neck. The barkeep’s story had been true, then. He brings a hand up to smooth down Eskel’s collar and lightly brush over the angry red skin. Eskel hisses and slaps his hand away.

“Gonna scar.” Eskel says gloomily. “I’ll never live it down.”

“You will. You’ll live.”

Geralt means it to sound light and humorous, but the look Eskel gives him says his joke didn’t quite land the way he’d hoped.

“I’m fine. It was just a ghoul. Got me in a hell of a shitty spot, but it’ll take more than that to get rid of me.”

“I know, its just...They told me you died. You looked dead. I couldn’t hear your heart.”

Eskel reaches up and slides his fingers through Geralt’s hair to cup the back of his head. He pulls lightly, bringing Geralt close enough to knock foreheads with him. It’s an action that they’d done since they were children at Kaer Morhen, their own special way of being close. Geralt can hear Eskel’s heart now, beating away strong and loud in his chest.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I really am fine.” Eskel says quietly, rubbing absently at Geralt’s scalp with the hand buried in the white strands.

Geralt leans into the pressure for a moment and then pulls away, clearing his throat after the emotional display.

“Don’t fucking do it again.” Geralt says, feigning annoyance.

Eskel laughs and Geralt once again has a new favorite sound.

“Yeah, sure, Wolf. I’ll do my best.”

*~*

:’) well that certainly got away from me. I hope this makes up for how long it took me to answer!!

#prompt fill #eskel/geralt #geskel #eskralt #the witcher #mine #my fic #ANYWAY HERE'S THIS

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amintyworld · 4 years ago

Text

Secrets - Dream SMP Drabble

WATERFALL (Part one) SUNSET (Part two)

A/N: Part 3 is finally here! So, bit of a update - this is indeed NOT the final part as I had planned, since there’s so much I want to cover about my own little backstory about two these two lovebirds, including how they get to the SMP. So, more parts to come, be on the lookout! Also, if you haven’t already, links to the two other parts should be above, please check them out if you’d like! Anyway, as always, enjoy!

TW: Arguing, secrets, surprise pregnancy, miscommunication, vomiting, cursing, roughhousing, injury (Not vv bloody tho). (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

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

“Alright boys, get down here, breakfast is ready!” Philza heard scampering and thudding footsteps on the stairs as both Tommy and Tubbo raced to the table, smiling and laughing all the way. Wilbur walked down next, the only one out of their pajamas as he sat with his notebook in front of him, scribbling ideas, notes, and lyrics. Technoblade was last, not exactly the morning person of the group, as he passed by his two younger siblings and ruffed their hair lovingly before sitting down with a yawn. Phil quickly set eggs in front of each of them, a warm loaf of bread at the center the baker delivered early in the morning. Techno murmured a sleepy ‘thanks’ as Philza set down a cup of coffee with his plate, and Wilbur got up to grab some orange juice for him and Tubbo, leaving it out so Tommy could pour his own as he insisted.

It was a nice feeling in the mornings with his boys, sitting and eating a nice breakfast as the sun began to rise over the horizon. Philza mused over just how much changed over the last few years - they adopted Tubbo, Technoblade and Wilbur were becoming adults - but yet, things still felt the same. The little family was silent as they ate, enjoying each other’s company as the world began to wake up just outside their windows.

Tubbo, to Philza’s relief, was not as chaotic as the rest of his siblings and was all around a responsible and kind soul - at least when he was alone. When Philza walked inside to Tommy and Tubbo covered head to toe in bee stings due to ‘showing dominance over the bees so they’ll be our pets’, he learned quickly that the two younger brothers together would spur on all kinds of trouble. Luckily, he was used to it from the elder two when they were around Tommy and Tubbo’s age. Philza chuckled remembering when Techno and Wilbur tried to corner that parrot to only run home with nothing but a bunch of scratches, bruises, and covered in feathers - he’d snapped a picture before they both cleaned up, both pink from embarrassment.

“So, I’ll be off today checking in and fixing up the garden, going into town for a while, and then going fishing if I have the time. I should be home by around sunset, though.” Philza declared, taking a swig of his morning coffee.

“Me and Tubbo are gonna go find Mothman and catch a couple of pet bees,” Tommy said. As Philza opened his mouth to respond, Tubbo interrupted.

“We’ll take our swords and be back by sunset.” Tubbo finished. “And we’ll make sure to follow the path and not get lost.”

Philza chuckled. “Good.” He smiled.

“Techno and I were gonna train for a bit - I think I’m getting close to beating him.” Wilbur said, and a loud ‘HA’ erupted from his older brother.

“You wish,” Techno smirked. “The day you beat me one on one is the day I give up eating potatoes.” The pig hybrid did love himself a baked potato, and Philza knew that all too well. Chatter spurred on amongst the family, and Philza just smiled, taking in the moment.

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

“Jeez, is Techno some kind of mega pig demon?” Sally said, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her treehouse, across from Wilbur who looked a little worse for wear. “He went way too rough with you.”

“He didn’t mean to, he just got carried away.” Wilbur defended. “He felt really bad after, I kept telling him it was fine.” Wilbur let out a soft curse as the disinfectant soaked cloth ran over a particularly deep cut on his forehead, and Sally rubbed circles on the top of his hand in a loving gesture.

“Wil, it’s not fine, you got really hurt.” Sally’s tone turned serious, and Wilbur intertwined their fingers together.

“You’re scared.”

“No shit I am!” Sally yelled angrily before she took a deep breath to calm herself, continuing.. “Wilbur, sure you’re fine now but what if you got worse, and he didn’t stop? What if you got really hurt?”

“I know, I didn’t mean to worry you.” Wilbur gently squeezed her hand. “I promise we’ll be more careful.”

Sally placed a bandage on the cut on his forehead and planted a soft kiss on it. “Thank you.” Wilbur cracked a smirk as she faced him fully again.

“How bad’s the damage?”

Sally smiled back. “Just some bruises and cuts, a few days of healing and you’ll be fine. Don’t worry, you still look handsome.”

“Good thing, too,” Wilbur said jokingly. “My face and my guitar’s all I got going for me.”

“Oh please, Beanie Boy.” Sally smiled as she moved to cuddle closer to him, and his arms wrapped around her until they were both comfortable against the wall, Sally’s head leaned against Wilbur’s chest, the girl all too careful in her movements to make sure she didn’t hurt her boyfriend’s many bruises. “Did you win, at least?”

“He called a draw,” Wilbur said. “But, I did manage to use that weapon snatching tactic you taught me.” He laughed a bit. “He totally freaked.”

“Good,” Sally chuckled. “Someone’s gotta keep that pig on his toes.” Sally felt Wilbur shift a bit as he tensed. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just sore,” Wilbur said. “Why do I have a feeling I’m gonna regret most of the fight in the morning?” They both chuckled at the comment.

“I’m sorry, Do you want me to kiss it better?” Sally asked, looking up to her boyfriend in time to see a slight telltale pink on his cheeks. He nodded as Sally shifted to sit up more and began leaving some kisses along his arms wherever she saw a bruise, before leaning in to give him a soft peck on the lips where a small bruise was beginning to form.

“It’s almost sunset, I gotta get home or Phil will kill me,” Wilbur said, before tucking a long piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be back tomorrow, though.”

“Good, someone’s gotta help me refill my stash of supplies,” Sally said, smirking. “I’m all out of beetroot for bruise cream, if you haven’t heard.”

“Will do, my salmon,” Wilbur said, getting up, grabbing his sword, bag, and beanie before heading to the entrance.

“Be careful heading back, you’re still healing.”

“Gosh, you sound like Phil.” Wilbur chided sarcastically before Sally gave him a look. “I’ll be careful, I swear.” Wilbur pulled Sally in for a close embrace, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I love you, my salmon.”

“Love you, Wilby.” At the rarely used nickname, Wilbur’s heart melted as he muttered a simple ‘bye’ and climbed down the ladder.

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

Sally didn’t understand what was going on, and she was mostly kind of scared. Standing over a bucket and puking as the sun rose up was not exactly a great sign. Neither was the weird soreness. Maybe she had some kind of flu or something? Either way, one thing was for sure - she didn’t like this, at all. Being a survivor and runner for years on end, she prided herself for being pretty healthy and knowing a lot of good healing tips and tricks to not slow herself down. Now, she felt ashamed. Weak.

She hoped it was just the flu. Grimacing, she swallowed the medicine and took some water and a snack on her way out - She didn’t want to be late for work. Her hair was a bit of a mess and she chewed a bit of mint to disguise the bad breath she gained from this morning. She felt awful but pushed the feeling aside. It must just be a bug or something, had to be.

When she was old enough, she started looking for a job in town to get some money and not have to worry about hunting every night. Sure, Phil always had a spot for her at the table, but even Sally knew how much he was stretched to the limit feeding five. Luckily, she found a pretty cushiony job at the trade center - where she and a handful of others settled disputes over what was a fair trade and what wasn’t.

As she worked she headed to steady herself every now and then when she felt sick or lightheaded. It just got worse as the days went on, and it got too much for her to ignore. She left early on sick leave and made a quick stop at the library before heading home, determined to figure out what was going on with her and fix it in whatever way possible. She settled in bed with some hot tea and opened the book: ‘Easy to Spot Ailments Hidden in Plain Sight’. At this point, she was fed up feeling horrible and just wanted it to end. Her head ached, her stomach churned with any bit of food she tried to get down. Her shaking hands flipped through the pages as she looked for what matched her list of symptoms in her head - Nausea, light-headedness, fatigue…

‘Pregnancy, in the early stages, is common to have morning sickness, fatigue, tender or sore muscles…’

Her eyes widened at the thought… pregnant…? She scanned the page intently and as it were - most of her symptoms she’d been suffering the past few weeks were right there. Her mind whirred with the thought of the possibility. Wilbur was still trying to find a job in town, and they haven’t even gotten their own space yet - they definitely were not ready. The shapeshifter’s thoughts turned to Wil - if it was really the case, how would he react? Maybe he’ll be done with her for good because of it, they took precautions but not enough, she didn’t do enough to stop herself from getting into this position. Wilbur wouldn’t be ready yet, she isn’t either - maybe he’ll ditch her for his own survival.

She wouldn’t blame him.

It took her a few moments to realize she was crying. Her head was clouded with so many doubts, fears and what ifs she didn’t even notice. She wiped her tears away. She needed to keep a clear head, she needed to stay calm. Maybe she wasn’t even pregnant, she had to check with the town healer to make sure. There was probably nothing to worry about anyway, and she’d have gotten so worked up over nothing!

Now, looking over the positive pregnancy test in the healer’s hut, all she could think was: ‘Shit.’

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

Wilbur strummed a bit on his guitar as he sat cross-legged in his bed, Sally snuggled up in blankets next to him, humming constantly. “Have you been writing, Wil?”

“A bit.” Wilbur smiled. “Nothing concrete yet, I’m afraid.” Sally pouted slightly, her lower lip out just so, dramatic enough to make both of them laugh. “Sorry to disappoint, my number one fan. Maybe I could make it up by playing a song request…?”

“Love your songs, Wilby.” Sally said as she nuzzled to his side and he smiled.

“I know, my salmon.” Wilbur crooned as he planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Now, what song do you wanna hear?”

“Hm… what about the pretty soft one?”

“You never remember the names, do you?” Wilbur joked as he checked and tuned up the instrument. Sally laughed.

“Never.” Sally said. “Luckily I don’t have to.” Wilbur began to strum a soft tune as he sang softly with the music, and Sally drank it all in with a smile, her heart feeling full.

“You and I

We’re different but somehow we fit.

And I promise you

No matter what, I’ll never quit.

Because you are the good days,

The tough days,

When I feel like I can’t breathe,

I love you, I hope you like me.”

Sally began to sing along as well, and when the song was done, Wilbur put his guitar down and cuddled Sally close. He wrapped his arms around her until she was completely comfortable and they both laid there, just content in each other’s arms. Though Wilbur could tell she was happy, he also could tell something else was up - she fidgeted every now and then, seemingly never comfortable. He knew her well enough to know when something was bothering her - the way her eyes focused too much on the blanket, lost in thought and her eyebrows furrowed were her telltale signs. “Okay, what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing’s on my mind, I’m just tired.”

“You’re fidgeting, you’re staring into space - did something happen at work?” Wilbur asked, concerned. “If anyone’s bothering you-”

“No, no. Nothing’s going on at work.” Sally said. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Wilbur asked, and he couldn’t help but notice her hesitation.

“Yes…” She said before she looked around the room a bit, her body fidgeting more violently. “Where’s the bathroom again…?”

“Just down the hall.” Wilbur grew concerned as he noticed her shaking body rush out of the room. Did… did he do something wrong…? He heard the door quickly slam, and he couldn’t help but replay the events in his head over and over. Did he make her uncomfortable? Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to cuddle her, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all.

“You okay?” Wilbur looked up to see Philza standing in the doorway casually, looking a bit concerned. That’s when WIlbur noticed how hard he was gripping the blanket on the bed, staring off into space.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I dunno if she is, though.” Wilbur said.

“I heard the slam.” Philza stated.

“Phil, how do you know if someone’s uncomfortable around you?” Wilbur asked, and Phil’s eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“I guess it depends on the person, sometimes you can tell by their body language... Why?”

“Sally’s been off, she’s not acting like herself. I’m worried about her, I know something’s causing her to be like this, and I dunno if it’s me.” Wilbur said honestly, and Philza’s face turned to a warm comforting smile.

“It’s not you, Wil. I know she loves you just as much as you love her.” Philza said, certain.

“If it’s not me…” WIlbur started. “Then what is it?”

“I don’t know, if I’m honest. But i wouldn’t worry too much over it, okay? I’m sure she’ll tell you what’s going on when she’s ready to.” Phil reassured him. As he told his son, he too tried to keep his worries at bay. He didn’t want to get in the middle of his son’s love life, but if something really bad was happening to the shapeshifter, Phil wanted to help.

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

Philza tried to stay calm as the girl broke down into tears over the two words that spilled over her lips. Part of him wanted to scream, to scold… they were both in their early twenties, but Phil still saw them as kids, kids who didn’t know what to do and were too young to be parents yet. He was mad at them for not being careful, he was upset that Sally felt the need to hide it, and most of all he felt scared for both of them. For the first time in his life, Phil couldn’t protect them. He couldn’t just pull out his sword and fight it all and make all the monsters and scary things go away, and it scared him. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second to process, before handing the crying girl a tissue, doing his best to calm her.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I… I felt so ashamed that I let this happen, I-” Sally’s voice shook. “If Wilbur knew, he’d probably leave, I-”

“Hey.” Phil’s voice was stern but soft. “You couldn’t have done anything to prevent this, it isn’t your fault, okay?” Sally looked to the floor. Phil rubbed her trembling shoulders as a few moments of silence passed between the two. Phil looked firm. “You’ve gotta tell him.”

“No… no I can’t…” Sally said, images flashing through her head of his disgusted face, glaring at her coldy, telling her that if she really cared and respected him, loved him, she would have been more careful, telling her that he wasn’t willing to get dragged down into her mess, so she’ll just have to deal with it.

“Sally, he’s gonna figure it out eventually. Would it be better if you told him, or if he figured out you kept it from him too late?” Philza said.

“He’s done so much for me, I don’t want to burden him with this. He doesn’t deserve to pay for my mistake.” Sally said softly.

“But it’s not your mistake, it’s not ‘your’ anything, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“Then who can I blame, Phil? Why did this happen, then?!” Sally snapped. “What am I supposed to do now… what can I do now?!” Silence once again engulfed the room as Phil sat and slowly took the shapeshifter’s hands in his.

“You know, when I figured out I was going to be a Dad, I was so scared. I was 22 with no stable job, moving from place to place, living off the land, that’s no way to raise a family.” Philza said, staring into space as he spoke, recalling the memory. “I learned a lot, then - like some things happen without a reason… bad things, but also really good things. Amazing things. And, I know that even now, I’m still scared about it all, but I know you’ll both get through it together just fine. You care too much about each other to let anything get in the way of that.” His gentle expression met hers. “What you’re gonna do now, is you’re going to breathe, finish your cup of tea, and relax. Then when Wilbur comes back from getting the honey with Tommy and Tubbo, you’re gonna look him in the eyes and tell him, even if you’re scared. Because as much as you’re afraid of losing him, he’s afraid of losing you, too.”

Sally swallowed thickly, nodding. “Then what?”

“Then, we’ll figure everything out together, okay?” Phil took his own tea cup in his hands and sipped, looking out the window as the sun began to set. Sally, with shaking breaths, sipped her tea as well as the two sat in a comfortable silence. When the door opened and shouts erupted from the hallway, Phil gave Sally’s hand one final squeeze before getting up and taking their empty tea cups to the kitchen.

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

“Go. Take your mind off everything for a bit.” Philza had told him as he practically pushed him out the front door. “You can’t just be anxious, worried and cooped up in your room over a girl. Take a break.” When he tried to protest, Philza put his hand up, silencing him. “Besides, Techno’s too busy today to go with them, and someone’s gotta make sure they get home in one piece. Enjoy yourself and have fun, okay?”

Now, sitting under the cover of a bush, all three of them - Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo - looked over toward the bee’s nest. “Okay, what’s the plan here?” Tubbo asked, and Tommy smiled, a plan already forming in his mind.

“Okay, so you lure all the bees out with some flowers, while Wilbur and I get the honey. If it backfires..” Tommy hit his fist against his hand. “We’ll hit ‘em with Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B..?” WIlbur asked curiously.

“Well, it's a highly complicated-” Tubbo began.

“-and a simplistic plan that has always gotten us out of trouble so far.” Tommy said, which did not do much to help Wilbur’s new worries over Plan B.

Tubbo picked a huge pile of lilies and daisies and nervously walked closer while Tommy gave him a thumbs up from behind the bush. “You got this, Bee Whisperer!” He hashly said softly, while Wilbur looked over to him.

“Are you sure this is safe?” WIlbur said, looking over at Tubbo, ready to tackle him to the ground if things went south. “I know bees like flowers, but I’m pretty sure they can tell the difference-”

“Oh yeah, Tubbo’s got this.” Tommy reassured him. “He’s the Bee Whisperer, after all.” A large glass jar landed with a ‘thunk’ on the soft grass. “You’ll hold the jar while I get the honey.”

“Do you even know how to get honey from the nest?” Wilbur asked, and Tommy looked confused.

“Yeah, you just stick your hand in, and-”

“No, nope, we’re not doing that.” WIlbur said. “You’re holding the jar, I’m getting the honey.” He looked over the bush, and to his surprise, the bees flew around Tubbo peacefully, landing on the flowers he held as Tubbo let out a weird buzzing noise from his mouth. Huh - the Bee Whisperer… cool.

Tommy muttered angrily in protest as he hauled the jar over at his signal, and Wilbur picked up a stick and slowly began to put globs of honey in the jar.

“Is the reason I’m not doing it because of your women problems?”

“Shut up, Tommy-” Wilbur harshly said under his breath, trying to focus. “You’ll alert the bees.”

“Well excuse me for trying to distract myself, this thing’s heavy-”

“Shut up.” Wilbur muttered angrily. Sure, it was kind of harsh, but he was the one who was complaining. They were about halfway done filling the jar when a few bees began to fly back to the nest, and Tubbo tried to call them back to no avail.

“I think it’s time for Plan B, Wil-”

“No, it’s just a few bees, Tommy…”

One bee in particular decided to land on Tommy’s nose, and that was it. “PLAN B!” He shouted as he capped the honey jar and gave it to Wilbur as he noticed all the bees begin to run back to the nest, sensing danger. Wilbur pushed him away from the nest. “Run!”

Well, Wilbur did not need to be told twice. He rushed away as Tubbo ran after him toward their hiding place in the bush. Tommy followed soon after, covered in honey and bee stings, his hands particularly sticky. Wilbur looked over to see the nest destroyed. He flicked Tommy’s forehead. “That was a terrible plan, you idiot!”

“Ow!” Tommy rubbed the spot a bit as it burned in pain. “Hey, it worked didn’t it? We’re all safe.”

“You can’t just punch away all your problems!” Wilbur shouted. “You could have gotten really hurt!”

“I’m sorry.” Tommy said quietly, looking bothered by his older brother’s tone. Wilbur sighed, his arms crossed. Though it was good to let his frustrations out, he shouldn’t have snapped at him - Tommy was far from the one who’d been aggravating him recently. Tubbo looked at the two, then to the jar.

“Well hey,” He said, smiling, trying to lighten the tense mood. “Look at how much honey we’ve got.” He moved the almost full jar in front to show off. “This has gotta be enough honey for the bee farm, Phil’s gonna be impressed - we make a pretty good team.” Tommy brightened a bit at his friend’s words, though still kind of hurt, and moved to take the jar from Tubbo.

“We should be heading back, the sun's almost down.” Tommy said as he stood, picked up the jar and walked off, Tubbo close behind, and then Wilbur at the back.

Wilbur would be lying if he said the past few weeks had been easy - he tried his best to just stay calm, but every time without fail Sally would always rush away, or snap at him. If she was upset with him, he wished she’d just tell him instead of playing this stupid guessing game. He felt like he was walking on eggshells around her, and he hated it. He didn’t like all this secrecy, he didn’t like not being able to just talk with her the way they used to. He was upset and angry with Sally, he just wanted to know what’s going on, is that such a hard thing to ask?

He scoffed to himself - he was supposed to be keeping his mind off it, but he couldn’t even do that. He couldn’t even relax when things were so tense with her, how pathetic is that…?

“Wilbur?”

“...What?” He asked, snapped out of his thoughts by Tubbo, who pointed ahead.

“This is the right direction, right?”

“I’m not Techno, but… I think…” He looked around, scrambling for some familiar landmark. Tommy was in front, uncharacteristically quiet. Then, he spotted a rotten tree log, and it clicked in his mind where they were. “Yes, just a bit that way.” He moved toward the front, and Tommy kept his eyes forward. Feeling awkward, Wilbur touched the sft fabric of his beanie, taking in his hands and running his fingers over it, taking a breath before finally breaking the silence.

“Look, I’m sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Tommy’s eyes were fixated on the jar for now. “You’ve been so off lately, and I just thought maybe if we dragged you on some crazy adventure, I’d get you back. But it still followed us, I don’t understand… is it me?”

“No, I… it isn’t, Tommy.” Wilbur said, focusing on the knitted stitches as he formed the words to say. “I’ve just been- Things with me and Sally have been... complicated, recently. Still, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“So, you really are having women problems.” Tommy’s tone was serious, an oddity for the usually joking teen. “You really care about her a lot, don’t you?”

“Yeah… yeah, I do.” Wilbur breathed.

“No wonder. I haven’t seen you this torn up about anyone in… in well, forever.” Tommy smiled, not joking or smirking, but just smiled. “We’re here for you, you know.”

“I know.” Wilbur smiled as the two made eye contact. “Thank you, Tommy.”

“Does this mean you’re not mad at each other anymore?” Tubbo asked from behind them, and the two brothers smiled.

“Yeah, yeah I think we’re done.” Tommy said as Tubbo wrapped his arms around both of his brothers shoulders with a relieved smile.

“Good, because I did not want to be walking home in that awkward silence for another hour.” With that, laughter erupted from all three.

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

Philza smiled, eyebrows raised in a bit of surprise as he took the jar of honey from Tommy, looking at his condition. “Should I even ask?”

“We used Plan B.” Tubbo said with a smile, making Tommy smirk.

“I punched a thing.” Tommy said confidently, and Philza laughed.

“Go get cleaned up, both of you - and don’t forget to apply that sting cream.” The two boys marched to the bathroom as Philza set their prized jar on the counter. Back in the living room, Wilbur’s gut ached uncomfortably as Sally walked toward him, giving him a sad smile.

“Hey.” Her hands found their way into his and their fingers interlocked. It felt… nice.

“Hey.”

“Do you, uh… can we talk? Alone?”

“Uh… yeah, yeah. Okay.”

Sally’s hands never left his as they sat down on his bed in his room, the door closed behind them. Though for the past few weeks Wilbur had so much he wanted to say to his girlfriend, now he couldn’t seem to find any words as they just sat in silence for a few moments. The fur on Sally’s ears and tail stood on end, and she took a deep breath, looking at their hands as she finally spoke.

“Okay, Wil… there’s something I’ve gotta tell you.”

Wilbur’s heart felt uneasy by your nervousness, worries filling his mind of finally figuring out the truth… and if he didn’t like what it was. If Sally decided to break up with him - all the uncomfortableness would make so much sense, why would she drag it out for this long… he really hoped it wasn’t that, but… it seemed more and more probable.

“You’ve probably noticed I’ve been acting weird, right?” She asked as he nodded. “Well, remember when I told you that I used to not be attached to anything, because I knew it could only lead to disaster?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well… I’m attached to you, a lot. I’ve realized it lately, and I’ve realized I don’t… I don’t want to lose you. I was so scared that if I told you, I would, and I… I love you too much to lose you, Wil.”

Is this what she’d been upset about?

“You’re never going to lose me, Sally. I promise…” He said, relaxing a bit as his mind whirred about the entire situation. He kissed her forehead softly as he pulled her in for a comforting embrace. “I promise I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Sally smiled, beginning to relax a bit more, but still a bit nervous. “That’s why it’s been so hard to tell you, Wil.”

“Tell me what?”

Sally took another deep breath. “Wilbur, I’m pregnant.”

Wilbur blinked a few times, trying to process what his girlfriend had just said. Pregnant. She… she was pregnant. That was not what he was expecting her to tell him in the slightest. But, it did explain some things - her frequent bathroom trips, for one. His mind slowly began to put the pieces together, how it made so much sense…

“You serious…?” He asked her, and she smiled, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“One hundred percent, Wilby.” Her voice shook with nervousness as she mustered a smile, not knowing what he’d do or say next. Wilbur broke out into a huge smile as he took Sally into his arms and spun her around as the two laughed, smiling. Wilbur was so relieved that it wasn’t what he thought, that it was the farthest thing from his worries. All the anxiety, the fear… it all went away. They both fell into the bed, smiling and laughing. Wilbur planted a soft kiss on Sally’s cheek as he moved to cuddle her tightly in his arms. “So… you’re not upset with me?”

“No, why would I?” Wilbur said. “Of course, I mean, it’s unexpected… but, we’ll get through it together.” His attention quickly turned to her, his relief turning quickly into concern. “Are… are you okay? I can’t imagine what you’re going through, if you even want the baby-”

“I’ve had lots of time to think about it.” Sally laughed. “And, I’ll admit I had mixed feelings at first - partly because of what you’d think, but partly because I’ve never even thought about kids, you know? It always seemed so far off.”

“Well, if you’re uncomfortable about it, we can always talk about other options, or…” Wilbur said, trying to reassure her.

“No. No… I…” Her eyebrows furrowed, and her ears flicked back and forth. “I think I wanna keep it.” She looked over to Wilbur as her hands found their way back into his. “I was so scared of losing everything that I kept this from you for so long… I don’t want to be scared anymore.” She laid her head against his chest, finding the words as her eyes were glued on their hands. “I want… I want you, Wilbur. I want this.”

“Are you sure, we don’t have to decide anything right now, I don’t want to pressure you-”

“Wilbur.” Sally reached up to cup his cheek with a comforting smile, feeling happy, relieved, and content. Of course, part of her was scared of the unknown, but Sally knew that what Phil had told her, what Wilbur told her was the absolute truth - she and Wilbur would get through it together. Her hand moved his over her stomach, and Wilbur couldn’t help but smile as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

You wouldn’t see it at first glance, but they were both absolutely terrified at the new adventure waiting for them. Yet, somehow, in each other’s arms, they felt safe, secure. Like they could do anything. I guess, looking to what would come next, that was more true than either of them would think.

#dream smp #dream smp drabble #dream smp fic #wilbur soot #sally the salmon #wilbur x sally #tubbolive #tubbo #tommyinnit #tommy #tommyinnit and tubbo #technoblade #dadza #philza #dadza philza #sleepy bois inc #pregnant sally the salmon #my writing

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kitsunesakii · 3 years ago

Text

A long day: part two

Part one here

Original prompt here (No.7)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The next day I woke up alone, got dressed and headed back to work. I'm going to get fired for what I do the words echoed in my head. A red hue taking place on my features. I got to work a little late, headed to my desk, and waited for my first call.

"Frisk! Come quick! We get to work in the feild today!" Maggie could barley contain her excitement as she nearly ran into me, quickly grabbing my arm and pulling me outside towards the 'bus', a military vehicle used when catching robbers and such.

"W- what?!"

"They said they needed reinforcements, and we were the only ones left!" We were given tactical gear and shoved in the back with a bunch of others.

"Where are we going?" I swallowed thickly, A tinge of fear swelling inside of me, I wasn't used to being in the feild. On the account of no powers, our division was pretty useless outside the building, mostly just used for reassurance. This must be pretty important if they were calling us in.

"We got a tip off the web that there's gonna be a robbery but most of the force is working on the other side of the city due to the super villain 'pyrite'" Maggie whispered into my ear. We got there fairly quickly. The main police were already there, in civilian attire.

I nodded in understanding, walking with her and an undercover officer into the bank. It was still morning, pretty empty except for an older couple and a mom with a sleeping baby over her shoulder.

I sucked in a breath, uncomfort stirring in my stomach. This wasn't going to end well.

We must have been there for thirty minutes, nothing. I looked at Maggie, she bit her lip, glancing at the officer a little ways away. He gave a short nod. Finally, we started towards the door.

"Everyone on the ground!"

My stomach flipped as I watched two men in masks break through the window. The mother screamed, covering her child with her body. Bending low against the floor. The older couple, frightened, leaned against a pillar, too out of shape to bend low to the ground. One of the men looked over at them, and angled their gun.

"Did I stutter? Get. On. The. Ground."

"Hey" I mentally cursed, why can't I ever keep my mouth shut, "come on, do they look like they're a threat?" Maggie gave a curt wine. I ignored her, lifting my hands, trying to give a peaceful gesture.

"Did I ask you?" He growled, his partner shifted, whispering something in the others ear. My eyes flicked from one to the other. The first lowered his gun off of the older couple and placed it in the holster. He looked back at me and cocked his head.

My brow furrowed, I felt heavy. I looked down to see my feat weren't touching the ground. Someone screamed. I was lifted up nd swung to the side, back hitting the wall. Hard. The impact would of killed me if the partner hadn't of knock into him. The pain came quick, a small rippling pierce cut through my ribs. Knocking the air out of me.

I closed my eyes, my body feeling the cool of the floor. I heard a gun shot before everything went silent, my body going limp.

Whatever room I was in was bright, I was on something soft. I jerked, remembering the past events and quickly feeling a sting close to my gut.

"Hey," someone breathed "carful, you're lucky that he didn't damage anything severely."

I rubbed my eyes, I was on a couch, whoever was talking was behind me. I strained to look. Sean. I breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing into the couch.

He walked over with some medical care. I looked at my arms, realizing I had bandages wrapped around cuts from the fall.

"I thought-" he paused, studying me, "you were out for a while..." He finished flatly, undoing a rather bloody bandage and replace it with new gauze, gently wrapping it over the cut.

I gave a weak chuckle "looks like we switched roles"

He didn't smile, instead moved on to check other bandages. "You hit your back really hard, and while I checked for signs of rib damage, I'm still gonna need you to try and stand." His voice was near silent, blanketing over the anger that was glazed over his eyes.

He helped me up, making sure I didn't hurt myself as I stood to my feet. I tried again at a small smile, "with all of this information, why did you ever need my help?"

Silence. I felt him gingerly roll up my shirt. I winced, everything felt like a low sting. He shifted into my line of sight, quickly grabbing some type of gel. The cool of it hit my back, shattering the numbness that was in place and caused my shoulders to rise.

He stopped emediatly, "did that hurt?" His voice lost its cutting edge and instantly turned into worry.

"No, no," I reasurred, "just cold"

He continued placing the gel, smoothing it over what was probably a bruise.

"Why were you in the feild?" He asked, moving over to scoop up a second layer of gel.

"We were the last resort, most of the team was working on detaining Pyrite." The pain was fading, only a small rising and falling pinch in my gut.

He hummed in agreement, moving his hands skillfully over the bruized patches. A minute passed.

"It wasn't your fault. " I held my breath, feeling his hands stop mid stroke. Simply lingering.

"You shouldn't of been there dearest" his words carried a bite, but I also felt the bit of weight roll off of his shoulders.

"Maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you" I whispered, echoing his previous statement.

I was rewarded with a small chuckle. He shifted, unravling my shirt until no skin showed.

"You can sit back down, I'm glad your safe. "

Speaking of safe, "why did they let you take me?" I asked, curiosity tinted on my face.

A grin spread over his features like wildfire, amusement bubbling in his words, "ah, yes... They let me. "

"You kidnapped me?!" My stomach dropped, "wha- how long have I been gone, are they searching are-"

"Hey, hey, relax dearest, I told the officer that I'd return you after I fixed you up"

I slumped into the couch "Oh and I'm sure they believed you!"

His lax posture returned, his grin spreading ear to ear with every comment. He stared for a moment, studying me before standing back up.

"What?-" I choked on my words as he moved over, taking up the space on my lap. Situating each knee at my sides. I sunk into the cushions, my heart leaping out of my throat. He draped his arms over my shoulders, towering a good inch higher than me.

My face lit up like a firecracker. My brain all but working. Leaving me frozen to the spot.

"Once they see that your bandaged up they'll relax"

"Ah yes, the villain that kidnaps people, patches them up, and sends them on there way." I drew in a breath, forcing my thoughts into words. "Nothing suspicious about that, your going to get me fired!" I squeaked, watching the amusement sparkle in his eyes.

He hummed, dragging a finger through my hair. Goosebumps danced along my skin. "Don't worry, you'll be on your way soon, but first-"

He leaned in, pressing his lips flush against mine. At the same time moving his hands to my sides, drawing shapes on my skin. I melted into his touch, easily leaning into his kiss, loosing my sense of gravity. Like a magnet I was pulled closer, paralleling his stance with my own.

He held me there for what seemed like forever. A love letter written in the blush of my cheeks, in the strength of his hands.

Then, without warning, he drew back, leaving me lightheaded. Taking his long forgotten spot on the couch back, and giving me room to breathe.

"Incase it wasn't clear enough dearest, I love you"

I gawked at him, taking on shallow breaths, my brain slowly starting back up. I couldn't help but giggle. I rubbed my forehead, a smile creeping up on my features. "I'm so fired"

#heroine x villain #bank robbery #writing snippet #writing #romance #cute

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myfavbau · 5 years ago

Text

her idiot.

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

requested: yes

a/n: i hope i did justice to the anon who requested this. personally, i actually really like this. ps enjoy six pages of hotch being a simp lmao

Hotch needed to make a decision, and he needed to make it fast.

Currently he was standing in the emergency room of Country General Hospital, where his team was investigating a case of hero homicide. The team had profiled that one of the staff members of this hospital was the one with the itchy trigger finger, so they decided it was best to split up in order to question various staff members discreetly.

So much for discreet.

The nurse must have overheard one of the agents asking questions, because now he was in the middle of the ER with a sniper slung over his shoulder. Phillip Dowd was the name of the man who was currently firing bullets at the roof in order to get the hostages to shut up.

This unsub was also smart enough to take away Hotch’s gun.

Hotch looked around at the room full of doctors, nurses, and patients. He was still in the middle of deciding what he needed to do, when Phillip’s voice interrupted his thinking.

“Everybody listen up!” he yelled, firing a few more bullets to ensure he had everyone’s attention.

Whimpers of fear and muffled sobs could be heard in the room, but besides that no one made a sound.

“No one move, nobody gets hurt.”

Phillip turned to face Hotch, his face was one of amusement.

“A fed huh? Must be my lucky day. Not so tough without your gun, now are you?”

Hotch chose not to respond. He couldn’t admit weakness, but anything he said could agitate Dowd and cause him react violently.

“That’s what I thought, “ Phillip spat.

Hotch noticed as Phillip thought for a moment, before he piped up.

“Let me barricade the door.” Hotch suggested.

“What?”

“Let me barricade the door. Let them see that you’ve got an FBI agent doing your bidding.” Hotch explained.

“Right, let you give them a signal,” the unsub scoffed.

“What signal? They knew you were in here. They knew you were armed. What can I tell them?” He said, keeping him engaging.

“What is this, some sort of profiler trick? New negotiation tactic?” Phillip accused.

“I think it's a good idea.” Hotch asserted.

“Why would you wanna help me?” he inquired suspiciously.

“I don't.”

Phillip laughed. “ Go ahead, boss man. Gotta say, you are one sick dude.”

“How do you think I found you?” Hotch retorted, as he made his way over to the exit.

At that exact moment, Hotch felt the panic in that room increase tenfold. Down grabbed one of the nearby doctor’s, yanking her figure until he had her detained and had his rifle to her head.

“Try anything, and she goes down,” he threatened.

Aaron could feel his heart beating in his chest, even if he could take a shot, from where he was standing, he couldn’t ensure that he could hit Phillip without hurting the woman he was holding hostage.

Hotch blocked the door before walking back up to his previous spot. He poke up again.

“Leave her, take me instead.”

“And now why would I do that?” Phillip asked him, mockingly.

“Who do you think makes a better hostage, some random woman or a fed?” Hotch asked him. He needed to keep up his facade. If Phillip caught any wind of his plan, they were all royally screwed.

“Come here.” Phillip grunted.

The woman he was pointing his gun at, looked like she wanted to cry. Hotch had to give her credit; most people he knew would crack under that kinda pressure. She almost looked familiar but he didn’t get a good look at her face as she was jerked out of the unsub’s grasp.

Phillip kicked Hotch in the calf, before barking his order.

“On your knees.”

Perfect.

Hotch leaned down, making it seem as if Phillip’s kick was a greater blow than actually was. That was when Hotch pulled out the gun from his ankle holster, taking a shot at Phillip. Hotch watched as the unsub crumpled to the ground.

Black dots started to blur his vision and he began to feel lightheaded. What was happening to him?

A few feet away from him, Y/N, the doctor he had saved, yelled for assistance.

“I’ve got a GSW to the chest. I need a stretcher and two bags of O-neg, now!”

-----------

Hotch was fading in and out of consciousness, as he heard a familiar voice. He smiled under the mask. He thought he heard the voice of an old friend. Maybe he was hallucinating.

He heard her again.

“C’mon, c’mon. I know you told me that you’d take a bullet for me in 8th grade, but I didn’t think you’d actually mean it, you idiot.”

Y/N tried to mask her growing worry with humor. She operated on countless people and saved so many lives, but there was something about seeing her childhood best friend on a stretcher with his blood on her hands that shook Y/N to her core.

Y/N could only hope to be good enough to save Aaron Hothner, as she wheeled his unconscious body into the operating room.

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

The first thing Hotch felt was the killer migraine. Groggy, his eyes fluttered open, attempting to adjust to the bright lights of the hospital room.

“Wha-?” He could barely get a word out before the resting figure by his bedside jumped awake, and was by his side in an instant.

“Here, have some water,” she offered him.

He gratefully took the glass from her hands, as bed started to shift to a more upright position.

“Thank you.”

She took the empty glass from his hands and put it on the side table, before resuming her position on the uncomfortable-looking chair in Hotch’s room.

“It’s no problem.”

There it was again. That same voice he heard from when he was shot. Hotch looked at the mystery woman in front of him, he looked at her hard, before finally saying something.

“Do you know a Y/N by any chance?”

Hotch was trying his best to read the name tag on her coat, but she was just too far.

“If by ‘do you know’ you mean, ‘are you’ then yeah, sure, I know a Y/N.” she laughed.

“It’s really me, Hotch. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

She gave him a soft smile. It was the same smile she had all those years ago; if anything, it was even more beautiful.

Hotch blushed.

“This is going to sound really weird, but I’m going to ask you a question, okay?” Hotch wanted to be absolutely sure.

“Sure. Go for it.”

“Did you have a pet parrot named Coconut when you were 13?” His words stumbled out of his words a little faster than he intended, but then again, she’d always had that sort of affect on him.

“Sure did. You helped me bury the poor little guy, remember?”

Hotch was pretty sure his jaw dropped.

“It’s really you,” he breathed.

“In the flesh. It’s nice seeing you too, Agent Hotchner” she said, emphasising his title. In childhood he’d told her about his aspiration’s to maybe work for the Bureau one day, but that seemed like ages ago.

The sound of Y/N’s voice shook him from his remembering.

“You know, you almost had me worried there, Hotchie.” He smiled at the use of his old nickname. “You saved my life and then I didn’t even get a chance to say thank you before you went all lights out on me.”

That was he connected the dot’s; Y/N was the same doctor that Phillip was holding before Hotch pleaded to take her place.

“Well, I believe you saved my life in return, so I think we’re even,” he said bashfully.

She smiled, but it was a sad smile. Had he said something wrong?

“Can I tell you something, Agent Hotchner?” she asked, out of the blue.

“Of course.” He looked into her eyes, eager to hear anything she had to say.

She let out a smile laugh. “I’ve been in love with you for the longest time,” she confessed. “Seeing you, almost dead like that… I just thought I neede to tell you.

Hotch held his breath.

“You said ‘in love‘ in the present tense.” He really hoped that the heart monitor attached to him wouldn’t betray him now. “Do you still feel that way?”

She took a deep breath and let out a light laugh.” Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

She looked at him. How could she not? From being best friends in grade school, to their adventures together in high school. Hell, Aaron Hotchner was the reason she even made through high school, emotionally and academically. With both of them coming from difficult homes, Aaron was the studious one, while she decided that high school was the time to live a little. They rubbed off on one another; they balanced each other perfectly. They were two sides to the same coin.

If it weren’t for Aaron Hotchner, there was high likelihood she wouldn’t have become a doctor. They both had decided that with the things they’d seen at home, they needed to be the good in this world. Now, Aaron would fight the bad guys, while Y/N helped the good ones.

Y/N was still in her thoughts when she noticed Aaron getting ing up from his bed.

“What are you doing?”

He said nothing, and she simply stepped closer.

He brought his strong yet gentle hands to the sides of her face, before leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss. In that kiss, he told her what he didn’t have the courage to say all those years.

He felt her smile into the kiss, before they both had to break apart for air.

“God damn, Aaron,” she said, smiling and out of breath.”Where’d you learn how to do that, law school?”

He laughed, a beautiful hearty laugh. It gave him this amazing feeling, knowing that he had the same effect on her as she did on him. If his teammates ever found out he was this crazy about a girl, he’d never hear the end of it.

He gave her a smile- a silly, lovesick smile, before leaning forward to kiss her again.

Suddenly, one of the monitors that was connected in the room started to beep loudly. In the process of stepping closer to Y/N, Hotch had accidentally let the heart rate monitor slip off his finger.

“Oh my god, you’re such an idiot.” She laughed, and moved to turn the beeping off.

He spun her around instead and pulled her so that they were standing chest to chest. He looked down at her with a smile.

“As long as I’m your idiot, I think I can live with that.”

“My idiot,” she hummed, a satisfied smile on her face, as he pulled her in for another kiss.

#cm #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #y/n #medic!reader #this is so cute #i love this concept #he's such a simp lmao #hotch

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jace-todd · 4 years ago

Text

Slack

@oh-faithful-inner-demons this is totally not about the headcanon you posted a little bit ago, pssh totally not but uhh enjoy anyway~ I tried to use some of your headcanons in this too!! Sorry if it's not that good- I decided to go with the first part of the headcanon, becoming slack in a hug to focus on Aizawa and Hitoshi's relationship as Father-Son but I'm still open to writing a second piece-

Word count: 2,069

You can read it online right here on my Archive

warning for bullying, jumping (as in bullies cornering a student after school hours to beat on them, i'm sorry hitoshi), neglectful parents, abandonment

There were only two people in the whole world who knew how weak Hitoshi was for affection. Affection was never something Hitoshi got a lot of when he was growing up. His parents were firm believers that vulnerability would only aid in you getting soft and getting yourself killed out there in ‘the real world.’ When he was four, not long after his quick manifested, all of the early affection he received to keep childhood development on path disappeared altogether. Maybe every now and then, his mother would ruffle his hair when she’d finish a long shift at the hospital - too tired to even remember her hatred.

At school, without friends, Hitoshi didn’t get to experience friendly hugs. He didn’t have that one friend who’d practically vibrate in their seat when he’d enter the room in the morning, calling out his name with greetings and asking all about his previous afternoon. That one friend didn’t exist so they never pulled him close in between classes, an arm thrown over his shoulders, talking loudly in his ears to combat Hitoshi’s natural silence. That one friend who understood that Hitoshi didn’t feel comfortable talking - not with his quirk as villainous as it was, not with his quirk putting up the risk it did merely by interacting with anyone. That one friend who’d sit next to him at lunch, against a tree, their entire body shoved against his side - completely foreign to something called personal space.

What he got instead were people leaving the seats around HItoshi empty every year, too afraid to go near the kid with the villainous quirk and the absent parents and the snarky personality. They whispered behind his back rumors about how he was the one that leaked the test results two weeks ago, he was the one that made Miyuki punch Kako in the fact yesterday after she hung out with him. The only kind of company and touch Hitoshi received were pushes in the hallways and jumpings behind school. Instead of hair ruffles Hitoshi’s hair would be held tight in a fist to maneuver back to punch him in the face. Instead of hands holding his, feet ground against them until he broke his promise to not show signs of weakness. Instead of hugs, arms kept him from slumping to the ground hit after hit landed.

After a while, Hitoshi stopped expecting to get affection from anyone. It became easier to expect the worst, assume that anyone who got close only wanted to hurt him. Unfortunately, it made Hitoshi’s life easier - knowing the world already wanted to hurt him prepared him for the worst. It prepared him for when his parents up and left two weeks before he started UA - no real explanation, just a final argument between him and his father that ended with Hitoshi silently heading to his room and hiding. When he came out for his work-out the next morning, their rooms were empty and money was left on the counter.

Life really became lonely after that. School was awkward and quiet - coming home to an empty house made it seem even worse. At least when his parents were still around, one of them would be home by the time he got back from school. They wouldn’t greet him but at least Hitoshi knew someone was there. Now though, there were no one to glance in his direction, to eat dinner with, to awkwardly stare at when they found each other in the middle of the night doing their own thing. He had the entire place to himself.

Then Eraser-head started mentoring him. After the Sports festival, being pulled aside during homeroom to talk to his favorite hero had felt like a fever dream. The minute he walked away, Hitoshi pinched his arm three times just to be completely sure that it wasn’t. Starting up training had been learning where Hitoshi’s boundaries were, being taught how to use Aizawa’s - Aizawa, Hitoshi gets to call his favorite hero by his name - original capture device, and figuring out their own dynamic. Every minute kept Hitoshi on his toes, exhausted with lack of sleep and too much working out, but more energetic and happy than he’d been in years.

Their interactions started out as just mentor-mentee. Aizawa was trying Hitoshi to get into the hero course, to get enough strength and control to impress the Board, Hitoshi was learning everything he could from his idol. It was strictly business. And then Aizawa broke first, offering Hitoshi a trip to get some food and water down at a cat cafe, not even two blocks from the school. Hitoshi had flushed, unused to any sort of attention from the hero outside of these training sessions. He had agreed without thinking too much and for the next two hours, Hitoshi found himself pouring out more information about himself than he’d told anyone in his entire life.

Two days later, Hitoshi perfected one of the hardest maneuvers to learn after only a month. Aizawa had given him that weird smiling-but-not-smiling thing of his and reached out. He initially flinched away, expecting the worst but the hand just slowed down. A moment later, it dropped onto his head and ruffled his hair. Hitoshi did not tear up. He didn’t, really. If there was one lesson his father taught him that stuck was that crying meant vulnerability and weakness. However, Hitoshi did feel lightheaded at the sudden affection.

Aizawa ever-observant kept it on his head a moment or two too long before letting go, nodding in the direction of their jungle gym, telling him to get going.

The next couple of months passed pretty much the same. Slowly, Aizawa integrated casual affections into their interactions. Whenever Hitoshi did something well, Aizawa ruffled his hair. When Hitoshi smiled, Aizawa gave it back. Eventually, when Hitoshi started to open up, Aizawa did the same - it was a sign of trust. They were going good - Aizawa and Hitoshi had what he was slightly afraid to call a father-son dynamic, Hitoshi was already admitted into the hero course, Aizawa was getting through physical therapy steadily and surely.

And then Aizawa came into their usual weekend breaks to the cat cafe with a manilla folder. Hitoshi was pressed against the back of the cat cafe, sipping at the strong coffee he had ordered when he arrived, stroking the back of the tabby on his lap, reading the latest comic he got his hands on. When the little ding of the door closing rang out, he lifted his head out of the pages to see who it was. Aizawa lifted a hand in greeting, heading straight to him rather than get his usual strong coffee and retrieval of his favorite cat.

Immediately, Hitoshi felt a pit rise in his stomach. This was it, this was where Aizawa decided Hitoshi wasn’t fit to be in the hero’s life anymore, wasn’t fit to be a hero, that he had come to his senses and Hitoshi would be nothing more than a low-life villain. He stuffed the comic back into his bookbag, careful with it despite the way his hands were starting to shake and he was getting light-headed. “Aizawa-Sensei? Is everything okay?”

Aizawa slid into the seat across from him, “Everything’s fine, Hitoshi. Take a deep breath for me, okay?” He didn’t want to take a deep breath. What he wanted was for Aizawa to just rip the bandage off so he could leave. One of Aizawa’s hands disappeared from view for a moment before coming back with one of the fidget toys he kept around for his kids. In a sign of peace, he put it in the middle of the table and Hitoshi took it, swiftly working it over with practiced ease.

It worked well to calm him down enough to hear what Aizawa wanted to tell him. “What’s in the folder, Sensei?”

The teacher flipped it around so that it was facing Hitoshi before opening it. “See for yourself, kid.” Staring back at Hitoshi in big bold letters were the words ‘Report of Adoption.’ The world stopped as Hitoshi read through it all. His biological parents had been contacted and had signed over custody already, Aizawa and Yamada’s information were nearly completely filled out except for the very last signature, which left only Hitosh’s section empty.

“Are...Are you serious?” He couldn’t look away from the papers, going through them over and over again just to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. Surely, there was his mother’s signature and then his father’s. On the other page, neat Shouta Aizawa stood above Hizashi Yamada.

Aizawa nodded, “I’m completely serious. It’s only logical considering your living arrangements and the multitude of arising issues as you enter the hero course next year. Hitoshi, you deserve to have someone who cares about you and whether you make it home safely or not. Hizashi and I have already spoken it over and we’ve contacted our lawyers. Before we continue anything else, I needed to tell you. Do you consent to being adopted by Hizashi and I?”

Did he consent? Did he consent to being taken in by the hero that kept Hitoshi going his entire childhood? Did he consent from having to leave the one place that was always home to him to move to a brand new location, a brand new layout, a brand new family? Everything between them would change again. He would have to readjust, find himself and where their limits were - surely, they would have rules and strict No’s for him. Maybe they’d regret adopting him not even a week into their legal adoption and then it’d all be for nothing. Maybe Eri would fear him and he’d leave. Not that he’d mind it. Eri and her had interacted plenty of times but he knew he made the little girl uncomfortable.

But Hitoshi wanted it. He wanted it more than he’s ever wanted anything in his entire life. Hitoshi wanted to wake up to Hizashi’s singing in the mirrors as he cooked breakfast. He wanted to wake up to his own cat pressed against his side. He wanted to step out of his room in the morning, dressed for the hero course, and see Eri leaving her own room, smiling up at him while he smiled down. He wanted to be able to walk home with Aizawa after training rather than have to go separate ways every day. Above all else, Hitoshi just wanted to be loved.

“I- I consent.” Aizawa’s smile was toothy and a little lopsided but Hitoshi didn’t really see it past his own tears. He hadn’t cried since he was six and had scraped his knee badly enough to need a hospital trip. This was the biggest thing in his life, the biggest change surpassing the hero course with ease.

The cat had already scurried off, leaving Hitoshi’s hands and lap free once he dropped the fidget toy. He stood up, rounding to Aizawa’s side. The hero stood up as well, and Aizawa reached a hand out to ruffle his hair no doubt. No more did Hitoshi flinch but he didn’t let the hand reach him. Instead, Hitoshi threw himself forward, wrapping his arms tight around Aizawa’s shoulders, tucking his head in the crook of his arm and Aizawa’s neck. Aizawa returned the hug, holding on even tighter than Hitoshi was, one hand on his back and the other curled around purple hair.

He let the emotions and relief finally escape him, completely silent sobs racking his body as he went limp, letting the hero hold his weight for him. Aizawa grunted, planting his feet more strategically before shushing him, “I’ve got you, Hitoshi, you’re safe, you’re okay.”

Aizawa didn’t budge under Hitoshi’s weight - even if the teen was nearly as tall and as heavy as the hero was, steadily starting to surpass him even. For nearly five minutes they stood there, Aizawa supporting both their weights, talking softly to Hitoshi the entire time, telling him to let it out, that he would be there and so would Hizashi no matter what Hitoshi needed. Unfortunately, Aizawa’s straining muscles eventually caused them to both slide to the floor, still gripping each other tight, Hitoshi slack in his arms.

They didn’t need to move anytime soon so Aizawa let the kid remain there. After all, it was about damn time Hitoshi got some well-earned affection.

#shinsou hitoshi #aizawa shouta #hannah's writing

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maybeitscordyceps · 3 years ago

Text

burning (1/2)

and by the time cookie had woken up, it was not in the soft place of light she had grown up in. it was in a wooden box, cold and dark, save for the small bits of light filtering in through the holes allotted for her to breathe. and the panic set in again, leaving her to howl and scream, and run in circles. the handler that opened the box was promptly bitten savagely by cookie. and in the back of her mind, a new voice was telling her to run. a new voice was commanding her to attack. the voice was not her own. she did not run. she did not attack. people in white coats assembled around her, dressing her in the tightest muzzle ever constructed by human hands. grabbing her, dragging her by her neck into a large, brick building. the insides were mostly white, and the air was freezing cold. this world was not built of kindness. this world was not made for her. the place was bright, yes, but only from the sterile glow of the fluorescent lightbulbs above, endlessly shining down like a million little suns. but they were truly nothing like the sun, who had felt warm and sweet like an old friend. these lights did not love. they did not care for cookie. days were passing, she could feel it in her gut. years had to be passing, but that was not certain. and every single new day was a new needle in her side; a new trip to a cold, metal table; a new prodding session, whilst surrounded by whitecoats. i could not tell you what a single one of them looked like, because at the core, all of them were the same. the same cold face. the same insincere sneer. the same cold, sharp, latex fingers. and the only time she ever got any rest was in the cage made of wire, one that hummed deeply with the sound of electricity, surrounded by hundreds of other tormented souls. not a one cried out. the ones that did never moved again. they just stared at her and at themselves with a million giant, watery eyes- species indistinguishable, intentions unclear. cookie was never sure if they wanted to hug or maul her. there was no way to tell. regardless, they could not reach her through the wire. sterile, white lights. cold, sharp air. latex and antiseptic and the awful smell of fur being burned. no cries. no sounds. not even a whimper. until. until the end of the shift came one day, and the guard dogs filled in. they did this every night, and it became nothing of consequence for cookie after a while. but one of them was new. one of them, with freshly cropped ears, and frightened, golden eyes. this one had not yet been broken. he walked without grace or dignity, small tail drooped as low as it could go. he was a handsome breed, black and tan markings so clearly and proudly on display. this is what he’d been bred for, she was sure, and yet... and yet he couldn’t stomach the sight of the torment laid out before him. perhaps he knew it could have just as easily been him, if he’d been a little smarter, a little less strong, a little less beautiful. there really was nothing beautiful in there, except for the guard dogs. glossy fur, shiny eyes, trimmed but sharp nails, polished teeth. and the oh-so-crisp blue and red leather of their collars, so proudly displaying the logo of the facility. cookie had been feeling quite different from the young pup she’d been originally. for one, she could now understand the humans almost perfectly. and she could read their dismal little words, written out so cleanly on their sterile white paper. what about this place wasn’t sterile, she often wondered. nothing about this was natural or beautiful, except for, once again, the guard dogs. and printed freshly on this one’s collar read “north forest medical and military research facility.” she could barely understand what the words meant. he stalked nearer to her cage, his two other packmates standing off to the side. something in her seemed to speak again, the voice that was not her own. and this time, she listened as it said something quite clearly, “talk to him.” so as he began to slink by, she reached out with a paw, gently brushing his fur through the wire. he froze, turning to her with massive, deer-like eyes. he looked as if he was about to be hunted. but instead, she laid a trap with her words. “do you want to be free?” and his ears turned upright again, and his eyes seem to shine. yet he still replied, “there is no such thing.” “freedom is...” she wracked her brain, trying so desperately to recall the pristine feeling of living outside of the walls of north forest. while it was growing fainter, she held onto it, internalizing it. she would never forget. she could never forget. “freedom is outside of these walls. its far away. its safe with the people who love you. do you want to be free?” she repeated herself, this time deliberate. “yes,” was all he said, the smallest word in the entire world, one that meant everything all at once. “then, open the cages. let us all free.” her eyes flickered to the wall of keys and the one singular button in the middle of them. faintly glowing red. the only thing that wasn’t white or silver. the only thing that mattered. “press the button. prove yourself to me, and then we’ll see if you are worthy of freedom.” and his eyes filled with the sight of the button on the wall. and it pushed down so easily under his paw. and all of hell suddenly smelled an out of the pits, and they craved it. all the depraved, lost, hated beings in the world wanted to kiss the fresh air, embrace the world with open arms. the alarm bells screaming were the sound of heaven’s gates, and every single unloved sinner wanted in. cookie didn’t participate in the brawl, though the smell of blood seemed to make her lightheaded in a way that was not unpleasant. no, the voice in her head told her yet another thing. “run. leave this place and never return.” her eyes caught on the young guard dog who’d given her the world yet again, watching him help a small group of shivering outcasts towards the door. and she barked. in hindsight, it may have been stupid. if she’d just ran, her life wouldn’t have been nearly as hard. she would be free of the burden this wretched pit had left on her soul. but she barked. and they listened. she lead them through the winding hallways, trying every door in her path. they followed obediently behind her, a trail of ducklings in her wake. only one opened, and she quickly ushered them inside, just as the smell of humans strongly hit her nose. and the sound of screaming and gunfire erupted from the lab. cookie looked over the survivors. a yellow cat with pigeon wings pasted onto her back. a mop-haired dog with six legs. a gray cat with mechanical bits all over his body. a golden dog with tusks like an elephant. a tabby cat with eyes all over his body. and, of course, the handsome guard dog. the voice spoke again, “ask for names,” so she did. none were given. they simply didn’t have them. except for the guard dog, who’s humble voice returned a small answer. “spike.” desperate, cookie called out to the voice, who returned with a swift answer. “i remember reading about packs of wolves. and how the humans thought they had a hierarchy assembled with letters of a foreign alphabet. we could name them after that, but keep in mind, the names determine rank.” “rank?” she called back, incredulous. “we aren’t an army.” “but you could be,” was the voice’s only reply. “and you’ll need to be, if you want to survive out here. if you want freedom, you’ll need to listen to me. let me guide you.” “and who are you to guide me?” “i saved your lives back there. you owe me everything.” “what even are you?” “i died here long ago, under the name belladonna. i was just a meek little bunny, you see. but i was smart, oh-so-smart. i could have escaped, if someone had only helped me along. if someone strong, like you or your new friends, were on my side. and now, i am going to aid you. i am going to give you the life i always wanted.” cookie did not have a response. she simply stared at the guard dog, checking everyone for wounds. her eyes wandered around the room they were in, and it seemed like an abandoned place of sorts. an old tv sat on a table, lopsided and out of the way. junk cluttered every inch of the place; textboxes, chalk, markers... if cookie had known what a school was, she would have called the place a classroom. instead, she called it a haven. she willed the ranking names from the ghost fluttering in the back of her mind, and made a small, alerting bark. the refugees turned, wide eyed and trembling. but cookie did not hurt them. she gave them names. she made them people. the mop-haired dog became gamma. the yellow, winged cat became delta. the mechanical cat became epsilon. the tusked dog became theta. the tabby became omega. and they all smiled amongst themselves, chattering quietly about their new identities. truly, they had to be special, to be saved by someone as courageous as the spotted dog before them, someone as favored by the whitecoats as her. there were no physical deformities on cookie, but something had to be special about her. she wasn’t sure herself, but the whitecoats had spent a lot of time working on her. not that she remembered much of it. all of the time she spent on tables was pushed to the back of her mind, to keep her from turning to a shivering husk. and winged little delta was the first one to address her directly, making the others watch in apprehension. “and you?” she asked. “do you have a name?” she stared back at the small feline, green eyes unyielding. she could not be cookie anymore. cookie was a weak, fragile young puppy, and she was a commanding, strong dog. she was better than cookie could ever be- clever, sneaky, strong. all these things and more did belladonna whisper to her, while a faint memory ignited in the back of her mind. her name, to the whitecoats, had been “project flores ignis.” and so came the name from her muzzle. “my name is ignis. and i am your new alpha.”

#this one was a bit longer folks #also sorry if these seem like i'm skimming #i'm actually just trying to write this in a more concise way #i don't want this to be a book #i don't care if it doesn't make sense #i am just finally letting this story out #it's been haunting me for a long time tbh #poetry??#idk what to tag this as #original story #part three

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