#it just bothers me that there's so much focus on just the death of her parents (and I get it it's the catalyst) but it feels like her five

[5ellaal5]

Here. The excerpt of this Fix-It Fic chapter with most of the flirting skipped.

This takes place after Singularity, after Burning Shores has started and Aloy’s companions disappear and leave data nodes for her.

It was inspired by the OP’s sentiment being shared by @fogsblue to give credit where credit is due.

Setting: Kotallo stops in at the Base and finds Erend already there doing some air guitar to [Travis Tate’s] death metal music videos/holos.

———————————

They were about to head out when Kotallo paused. Something about the Death Metal video had bothered him.

“Erend, would you bring up your music’s image once more. Uh, with the volume down. Just for a moment.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

Kotallo stepped beside and slightly behind him, looking over his shoulder. Erend glanced at him with his eyes only, holding his face still, seeming to hold his breath.

Kotallo pointed, reaching around him. “Are those… subtitles?”

“Yeah! It’s helpful to read the lyrics. I love the screaming, but I like to know what I’m screaming, ya know?”

Kotallo squinted.

“Why are they so small? And what is that font?”

“Small…? Font…? What are you talking about?”

Kotallo leaned in further, resting his chest against Erends shoulder to try to see, trying to avoid stabbing him with his neck spikes.

“Hmmm. Can you bring up a text file? Just something simple. Maybe a data point from around the Base or one of those messages people leave each other in ruins.”

“Uh, ok.” Erend manhandled some Focus gestures, and chose a text file at random.

Kotallo squinted again, leaning forward again. He looked at the file name, and then stepped to Erend’s side, opened his Focus’ display with the publicly-visible setting, and found the same file. The text was much larger, in a clear font, with ample line spacing.

Erend’s eyes looked back and forth between the two displays and then he abruptly shut his Focus display off so he could stare at Kotallo. “Hey, what? Is that the same file!? Why does yours look so different?!”

Kotallo closed his as well and stared back at his uncertain friend, who was so often putting down his own ability to read or make sense of things. How to offer help, delicately?

“Hmmm…”

“That’s all you’ve got for me, you brooding Tenakth? ‘Hmmm ?’”

Kotallo waved a hand for patience.

“When I first arrived, some of the Focus gestures needed two hands with normal settings. GAIA showed me how to adjust ‘Accessibility Settings’ so that I could use it with only one hand. She also directed me to particular ‘fonts’ because I would mix up the same glyphs over and over as I was learning to read. Something called, oh, what was it…?”

GAIA’s voice sounded between their Focuses’ speakers. “ I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ‘dyslexia-friendly fonts .’”

“Yes! That was it! Thank you, GAIA. Here, Erend. Let me see if I can lead you to these settings. Open the main menu and then go to Focus settings… Further down. Oh, wait, your menu is shorter. Maybe… there?”

Erend followed Kotallo’s gestures, with some help since the menu lengths were so different between the two displays and Erend’s display text was so very small and in a strange font that looked like handwritten Carja glyphs made with a leaky pen.

With his metal hand on his shoulder, Kotallo helped him pick a font that was easy to read, and switched it a few times to make sure Erend’s choice worked in multiple contexts, and set it to default. Changed the screen’s view size and taught him how to temporarily zoom in on a text file. They even experimented with shifting the saturation of the text display light until Erend said it wasn’t hurting his eyes as much.

Erend looked delighted.

Kotallo felt a little ill.

He had overheard Erend talking to Aloy on many occasions about how much trouble he was having learning to read and understanding the content, and the glyphs causing headaches, and it had never occurred to him to not take the man’s own beliefs about his stupidity at face value and just look at the damn settings. What kind of a friend believed their friend’s self-criticism?

Varl was also Erend’s friend. And Zo? Aloy knew him the best; why didn’t she…? Oh, but at that point, she was relying on GAIA to train everyone because she was almost never there, and everyone else was learning the Focus from the very beginning. Aloy had to believe what her team reported to her, when she stopped in, and her team was all doing their best.

Kotallo had gotten help from GAIA and Beta with ‘accessibility,’ and had received Aloy’s special attention for making his metal arm, and rebuilding his trust in himself, because his main impediment was physical and obvious.

But during Kotallo’s first days here, he’d had trouble with swapping glyphs, confusing words, having them blur before his eyes or fade into the environment behind him, causing headaches, as Erend might have been having this whole time. GAIA had talked about ‘dyslexia’ but also about past head injuries affecting reading, and that was an injury they likely both shared.

But unlike Erend, Kotallo had been shown how to make adjustments right away, and then knew it was possible to ask for a change. It had only impeded him for a few days at most, and after that he hadn’t been taking it personally when new but similar challenges slowed him down.

He shook his head in dismay and also awe.

Once Erend had closed the menus, looking stunned at how easy it was now that he’d made the font size match his fingertips for better precision, Kotallo spoke.

“Erend, you are one of the smartest people I know.”

“What?! What in the Forge’s tool chest are you talking about?!”

Kotallo just kept shaking his head, amazed.

“You learned everything we all did. But it was if you were learning to fight swinging a warhammer the size of a cart, rather than a practice wooden one. And you did it —you learned it— all the same.”

Erend looked even more stunned. He blinked.

“I did?”

He looked down. Quirked a smile. Huffed a laugh.

“I did!”

Kotallo slapped him on the shoulder and gripped where his hand landed. “Truly, you walk in strength, Oseram.”

Erend looked back up at him, still apparently amazed, and a few other things besides. Then firmed up his expression.

“Hey, we should still go hunting. A couple of us battle-hardened ancient tech experts, forging into the wilds, should have no trouble bringing down a brace of pigeons. Otherwise I’m going to get all emotional.”

Kotallo smirked. It seemed none of Aloy’s friends particularly enjoyed having many feelings. “Agreed.”

Erend in Forbidden West

maybe controversial opinion again but another thing i've noticed so far in Forbidden West is that they lowkey kinda butchered Erend...

idk if anyone else feels this way, i never see it talked about, but i swear to god he didn't used to be so one-dimensional. Again i'm only halfway through the game so there's hope for change, but i recently rewatched the Ersa mission in ZD and it just made me realise how he used to have so much character outside of just "haha funny dumb alcoholic", and that seems to be all he is in the second game (so far). I'm sooo sick of hearing constant jokes about how he's stupid, clumsy, drunk and annoying, as if that's all he is when i swear he didn't used to be. Sure there were jokes about him being a drunk in Zero Dawn too but it wasn't the majority of his character! They can have him be the comic relief character without making that ALL he is 😭 i'm honestly really really hoping we get more serious scenes with him to cancel this out... justice for Erend man, he's supposed to be more than that.

[karmaphone]

I feel like we really skip past a lot of Kat's trauma in Wendell & Wild. Like there's SO MUCH FOCUS on just the death of her parents and INCLUDING her Redemption Chamber scene we only get glimpses into the rest of her trauma. She was sent to a group home that only prioritized the money the government gave her IMMEDIATELY after her parents' death (she wasn't around for their memorial, even) and it seems like they locked her away too. She was bullied in school after that, and we see her react to that in what could be interpreted as her fighting back & accidentally killing that kid (he's just shown falling down the stairs and then we see the judge and I doubt she'd be in juvie so long for a broken bone or smthn) and then in just flashes of her face we see her getting into fights in juvie over the years. That's a lot to unpack just from one scene

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Tide

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Frankie Morales is capable of almost anything... except not cumming in his jeans when he thinks about you, the pretty clerk at the grocery store he always buys his giant jugs of laundry detergent at. Warnings: Smut thoughts, Frankie's POV and internal monologue, premature ejaculation, so much cum talk, addiction recovery, laundry detergent, this is so ridiculous but I also tried to make it super sweet. Words: 1,200

A/N: I'd probably classify this as a crack fic... but with heart. This is SOOOOO indulgent and ridiculous. I don't know what @luxurychristmaspudding unlocked in me but this is what's released. I know this is my *4th* story in a week, but I couldn't help myself. Also, shout out to the JM Discord and all of the tenants who join in the luxuriousness of this level of depravity.

Masterlist

🚁👖🤍Frankie🤍👖🚁

It keeps happening to Frankie over and over and over again. Recovery has been a challenge, abstaining from all of his previous vices means he’s no longer numbing his mind… and body. 

Nobody should ever cum during a prescription commercial and yet… he does. The swimsuit hugged the woman’s curves a little too close, plus she had the same color hair as you. His mind couldn’t help floating to thinking about you in a swimsuit.

Aye dios mio, get a hold of yourself man.

He’s too embarrassed to bring it up to his doctor. The notion of ever mentioning it to the Delta Force boys terrifies him, although he knows deep down they’d lend a sympathetic ear. They’ve killed, fought wars, and climbed out of the lowest points of their lives together… but the thought of letting his secret out? Awful. He shudders at the thought of telling his fellow Narcotics Anonymous attendees: “Hi, my name is Frankie, I’m an addict and I can’t stop cumming in my pants.”

He tries to think of the worst things, mental images that should scar even the scariest of humans, thoughts about death, rotting produce, weird looking insects, and yet, it still happens.

___

“Hi, how’d you find everything today?”

He blinks towards your tag though he’s already memorized your name, it repeats through his mind whenever he climaxes… he wonders to himself how your sweet voice would sound repeating his name. 

Uh oh, quick, think of a bee sting, everyone’s going to die, burnt pizza. 

He shakes his head, the thoughts of you wrapped around him flying out of his head with each subtle knock. 

“Sir, are you okay?”

Fuuuuuuck, you really had to call me sir, didn’t you?

“Y-yeah, sorry, long day. My name’s Frankie by the way.”

Focus, don’t look at how her hand wraps around the shampoo bottle, soldier. 

“Hi Frankie, nice to finally have a name to the face.”

Of course you say his name in the sweetest way. He presses his fingers into the flesh of his palm as hard as he can withstand, he prays you don’t see the way his nostrils flare.

Be strong.

He’s been captivated ever since he first saw you working in the mom and pop market across the street from his apartment. You’re always friendly and smiling, he swears he feels your eyes on him every time he leaves yet he’s too scared to look back and confirm for himself. He wishes he knew how to small talk and somehow step over the threshold of this case of shyness he has with you. 

Why bother? I’ll just end up disappointing you, never leaving you fulfilled. 

He’s so ashamed. 

“That’s a big bottle of detergent, you must do a lot of laundry. You have kids?” 

“I do… a four year old, but she lives with her mom,” he answers, lifting the giant jug into his cart, his cock twitches when he feels your eyes on his biceps. 

Stay cool, you can do this, you’ve literally overcome worse… and cummed over less.

He wonders if you notice just how much laundry soap he buys… he’s confident that you have no clue you're the only reason why his washing machine is constantly working overtime. 

“Oh, I love that age,” you mindlessly muse scanning a cereal box. “Is she as cute as her dad?”

His spine turns to jelly… he feels the phantom getting closer. 

Trash compactors, mom and dad’s divorce, elephant seals.

“Everyone says she has my eyes.”

“Then she must be,” you wink.

Not a wink, not a wink, not a goddamn wiiiiink. 

He quickly pulls his head down, sticking his card in the chip reader, resisting the urge to think of his now aching cock pushing into you. 

STOP. STOP. STOP THINKING FRANKIE.

Focusing on the pin pad breaks his spiral. Relief spreads through his tense body knowing this run in will be over soon, he can go home in peace, his pants surviving this moment.

Your fingers brush against his hand when you hand him the receipt, his favorite part of buying groceries. He’ll stand in your checkout lane no matter the size of the line for the split second of skin to skin contact. It’s all he can afford to let himself have, any more would surely stain his jeans. 

___

“Hey Frankie!” 

He turns at your voice, his breath hitching when you walk over to him while removing your name tag.

“Want to go next door and grab a drink?”

“I’d love to… but I, uh,” he lifts his hat nervously tussling his hair, “I’m in recovery.” 

“Oh,” your voice and face falter, “I’m sorry, um–”

Don’t let this moment pass, you can do it.

“I know a really good ice cream place, a few blocks down, I can meet you there?” 

Ice cream means licking. Frankie, you're an idiot.

“Oh, um, that sounds amazing but I don’t drive.”

“I can take you… if you’d like.” 

“Yeah?” your smile grows wider. “That sounds amazing.”

“I just need to drop these off, and then I’ll meet you outside in twenty?”

“Awesome!” You squeeze his hand wrapped around the cart handle. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Your touch scorches his skin, he blinks watching your ass sway while walking through the doors to the backroom. 

1-2-3, a gush of hot liquid releases against his jeans, his knuckles turn white as they clutch the cart handle.

Jesus Christ.

Frankie picks up his bags, holding them close to his crotch and leaves the grocery store. He better hurry. Thank god he just bought more detergent. 

___

In hindsight, he’s thankful for his little grocery store indiscretion. He’s carefree and relaxed as he falls even harder for you over chocolate sundaes. You ask for extra rainbow sprinkles and laugh at all of his jokes. 

This must be what it’s like to live normally.

___

“That’s me,” you point to a small bungalow unbuckling your seatbelt. “Thanks for the ice cream Frankie."

“This was really fun,” he turns towards you, shocked at how close you’re leaning towards him. 

Kiss her. No, wait, don’t kiss her. Yeah, definitely don’t kiss her. 

“It was,” you lick your lips and lean even closer. 

He can smell you now, you smell divine. Like ice cream and floral perfume. 

You place a soft kiss against his lips and pull away.

Frankie’s body tenses, a pathetic whimper escapes his mouth, he spurts against the cotton of his briefs. Doe eyes rounded with embarrassment stare at you.

“Sorry,” whispers out of his downturned lips. 

“Oh,” your face fails at hiding a smile, “Frankie, it’s okay. Really.”

His head knocks against the headrest, face frozen in a grimace, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“Frankie,” your hand clasps his chin forcing him to look at you. “Honestly, it’s okay. It’s actually… kinda hot.”

Right then and there he knows he’ll never shop at another grocery store again. 

[sugudoe]

❛ 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐘 ❜ ﾉ⠀ 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It had been a decade since the jujutsu world last heard your voice or seen your face. 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 had to deal with his emotions and conflicts by himself, and when he was nearly accepting that maybe you were dead, the unthinkable happens ── 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is the same universe as ‘𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾’ 𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗎 one shot, but obviously can be read separated (but don’t, read all of them <3), because i thought it would be cool. this one actually made me cry a lot, but as always, good ending. totally based on this song. also, i noticed i like to make the reader strong and whatever, expect more badass readers from me. mwah.

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: angst with good ending, mature content, blood, death, kidnapping, foul language, anxiety attack, self harm (picking skin), malnourishment, afab!reader (their uterus is actually important to the plot), happy ending.

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k

Gojo Satoru has had bruises and scars surrounding all of his fingers for almost a decade now. It’s a habit he picked to externalize his anxiety, much like Shoko with her cigarettes — ever since they met each-other, the girl would inhale one after the other.

When Ieiri became a doctor, her mission was to help healing the physical scars cause by either Gojo’s own hands or mouth, plucking the skin and tasting his blood, as if that could calm him. Maybe it could, he did felt relief through the pain. Shoko knew it was unhealthy and just the first steps before it all escalated to something more dangerous and difficult, so she tried to help.

“Let’s change this…” The brunette grabbed Satoru’s hands from his mouth, when he started to complain, she exchange it for a strawberry covered in chocolate. “For this.”

Soon, Shoko is reminded that Satoru can multitask. Blood and sweets merge in his mouth, the taste is addictive to him, much like something he unknowingly misses.

They both try cigarettes.

“Isn’t cigarettes as bad as this self-harm, you think I do?!” Gojo asks after burning his lungs and coughing the smoke all the way up his throat. There is a bitter taste that impregnates in his tongue, he can help but stick one of his fingers into his mouth and scratch the pink muscle. While he is at it, Gojo bites, tempted, his skin.

Shoko thinks that if Satoru is allowing all of this, that means he cares as much as she does, and he wants to be unhooked of this habit he has. One day, she suggests maybe he should focus on something else, like keeping his bed warm with a new person everyday. You’re never picking up your skin when you’re focused on somebody’s else, Shoko tells him.

Gojo turns it down the second she finishes her reasoning.

“Your pretty head is going to work harder for a new idea, Sho. Not in the mood for anyone else.” Shoko doesn’t bother slapping Satoru’s hands away from his mouth, the woman is to busy being stunned by his words.

“I thought you had move on, Gojo.” She didn’t meant to say it out loud, hence why it’s barely a whisper, but the contents of it could never scape Gojo. If the topic was you, he was always hearing, trained his ears in the hope to catch news a long time ago. “It’s been what? four years?”

“No, it’s been six, actually.” Gojo is not looking at Shoko, not at anywhere in the room but his hands, bruised and bloodied by himself. Shoko wonders if he is going to bite the whole thing off. “Six years since she has gone missing. Not a single news, she had no family, besides us, so no one has know shit.” He closed his hands in fists.

“Don’t you think she could have just gone away, Satoru?” Ieiri fidgets with her wedding ring unconsciously, the piercing blue eyes snap to the silver metal for a moment before returning to his lap, his long hand touching his necklace under the shirt. Shoko knew of your hate towards the jujutsu world and the men in power, but she was also your friend, you wouldn’t have left anyone behind, especially Gojo. “No, she didn’t.”

“Yeah, she didn’t.” Satoru grabs his glasses on the coffee table and adjust them over his eyes. To ease the pain of the six-eyes or to hide his tears, the woman wonders. “But I wish that’s what happened, y’know?” Gojo presses his thumb against the bottom of his teeth, tempted. “I would love her more if I knew she was far away, somewhere in the mountains, sleeping with dozens of blankets and a cat named Amour.”

Shoko doesn’t find her voice in that moment, is stuck besides her breaking heart and burned lungs. Gojo doesn’t seem to mind, he is lost in this calm and happier version of you he creates to ease his mind.

“If she isn’t, can you imagine? Can you imagine her dead?” Satoru slaps his hand over his mouth, and Shoko fears that’s the moment he will bite so hard the blood he is addicted to will paint himself, paint her, become physical enough to never be ignored like this situation they are right know. But none of that happens, Satoru simply try to hide his hiccups and cries.

It takes Ieiri a second to register what is happening, and when she does she jumps over the coffee table and hugs Gojo’s shaking form. In the six years since your disappearance, Satoru has never said out loud that you could be dead. The man thought such a thing was impossible, said that your curse energy was so strong anyone would feel it, Japan would lose its balance. He wondered if he had been wrong, had never noticed, because even if Satoru had spend all the time searching for you, he could have missed this. Could have missed you, and your last breath.

“Oh, please, my God.” Gojo begged the usual prayer: trade him for you, let him see you just one more time — he only needed a goodbye, a hug, a kiss. To look in your eyes and repent, to touch your skin and evaporate. Gojo Satoru would avoid death until the moment he sees you again, dead or alive.

“Gojo.” Shoko grabbed his face, removing his glasses and making him stare at her through his white eyelashes. He looked so young, the perfect mirage of how he was when Satoru learned of your missing. “She is not gone.” Ieiri hated herself for this, for trying to give him hope, something desperate to dig his claws in, unknown to the fact it was hope digging him, and when the truth would come out it could remove chunks of Satoru.

“Then where is Y/n?” Gojo whispered. “Where is she that I can’t find? Where is my love?”

Gojo Satoru became a shell of a man after that day. For the next four years he devoted his attention to anything related to you.

Becoming a good and happy teacher because he knew how much you wanted to be one, for the young sorceress who were obliged to give their lives for old men who couldn’t even thank them. Gojo’s spare time used to be for you, as well, searching Tokyo and hiring detectives all over the world, but now he promised Shoko to take some time at his penthouse. It sucks.

He holds himself against the large windows and knows you would love to see the city lights, when they would shine through your eyes and light half of your face, he would kiss you desperately. For a decade away from your lips, he still could remember how good it felt to be complete with you. The clouds reached the building some times, and he wondered if you were dead, this was your way of reaching. But whenever Gojo refused to believe in this, he would let the curtains take him away from the clouds.

Today is one of those days. And the sky is angry at him, demanding his attention with lightning and thunder — unfortunately, same as your cursed technique. Anytime a lightning falls at the city bellow him, Gojo hugs himself a bit tighter, to avoid himself from jumping to the windows, shamelessly looking for you.

His cell phone rings two times before he picks it up.

“Hey, are you alright? It’s a pretty heavy storm tonight.” Suguru asks right away, in the background there is two teen girls screaming with terror and then laughing like maniacs afterwards. “One lightning fell at the garden, the girls are going crazy. If you want to come, please do.” There is despair in his voice, and Gojo laughs at that.

“Sure, nothing better to do. Should I teleport in the middle of your living room to scare them?”

“Yes! That would be very much appreciated… Oh.” There is mumbling for a long time before Suguru returns. “Nanako is asking for you to bring her some of your snacks, the sour one, Mimiko says she want nothing but she likes the peanut butter M&M’s.” More talking in the background. “You are no bother, love, he is filthy rich.”

“Your daughters are lucky I love them.” Gojo mumbles getting up, before he moves there is a sound on his phone showing him a second number is calling. “I think Shoko is calling me, I’ll be right back at you. Tell your wife I’m bringing you and her something as well.”

“It better be good, last time you got her pineapple biscuits, what is wrong with you?”

“Those biscuits are good.”

“SHE’S ALLERGIC, SATORU.”

“OKAY, NO PINNEAPLES! WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING? Why am I screaming?” Satoru sighed before turning around from his cabinet with the pineapple biscuit.

He turned off the call with Geto who was busy with the girls to even notice. The second call was already off. Gojo shrugged, Shoko would definitely call again. Satoru was busy grabbing a random backpack is his closet when he heard his phone from the kitchen a couple of minutes later, he walked with the bag and picked the phone without seeing the id.

“Hi, you want to go to Geto’s house and prank the girls by teleportation?” Gojo starts to pack the bag, but stops when he hears no answer from Shoko, just breathing and thunder. “Wha…” Gojo takes the phone from his ears and checking the id find a random number. “Okay weirdo, this breathing thing is not really my cup of tea, know what I mean? I’m turning off now.”

“Don’t.” It’s a simple whisper, one word. It’s through the phone and the sound of wind, thunder clashes nearly at the exact same time. But Gojo hears your voice, and he doesn’t wonder if he heard right, but only if he is hallucinating, he would never forget your voice. “Please, don’t turn off.”

“Baby, please, please be you.” He has nothing else to say, no right question at this moment, the only thing in his head is you, has always been you.

“It’s me, Sato, I’m here.” He senses the smile in your voice, he can picture you with your eyes close and cuddling your face to the phone like he is doing right now. “Satoru, this is really, really important, okay? I need you to come get me now.”

Those ten years, Satoru had been waiting for this. Sensing the urgency of your words, Gojo removes his eye band.

“Tell me where you are, baby.”

Before you could answer, something snapped behind you.

“Here she is, dumb bitch couldn’t run that fast, after all. Still in our lands.” A man said causing not only yours but Satoru’s blood as well to run cold. You turned to him, admiring the blood dripping from the bite on his shoulder, your courtesy. “Let me make one thing clear, sweetheart, you’re never leaving here.” A slap followed his words. “Take her back to Naoya, he is waiting for the punishment.”

“FUCK.” A second man voice was present. “THE BITCH STOLE A PHONE.” All heads turned to him, in his hands was the object you dropped soon as you heard the men, the other line was silent but the call was still on.

“WHO WHERE YOU FUCKING CALLING?” The first man grabbed your hair, he approach his face to yours, forcing you to feel the putrid smell from his breath.

“I was ordering a pizza, asked for your favorite, no need to thank.” You stares at his nose for a moment, before launching at and biting it. Blood flows to your throat again in the day, he pushes you off and you stumble back, quickly getting up and spitting on the agonizing man. The other with the cellphone is scared, mostly due to the storms behind you, following the movements of your hands. “C’mon, I’m in the mood to a good fight.”

The man drops the phone. One step, is all he gives for you, all you allow before lighting meets him and he falls dead on the floor, a second hits the one on the floor. It takes you half a second to reach to phone, the call is still on but silent on the other side.

“Satoru?” You call worried for your lover.

“I’m here, baby.” You sigh in relief when he answers. He was coming your way, still.

“Did you heard me beating them?” You sit on the floor, under the rain who kisses your bruised skin softly, much like Gojo used to do. “I‘ve been waiting some time for this… How long was I out?”

“A long time.” Gojo answers are so short you wonder if you did the right thing by calling him. But if anything, he was the only number you had memorized, it was your only chance. When you first called him, he said something about ‘girls’ had he moved on? Are you allowed to be upset by this idea?

“Satoru, where are you?” It’s another whisper of yours he catch quick.

“I already said, baby. I’m here.”

You scrunch your eyebrows before getting up, turning your head for every direction, until you realized you had been so focused on the rain and Satoru’s voice, you didn’t catch the enormous red light over the trees and screams coming from the Zen’in clan’s houses direction.

“Stay where you are while I finish this, okay, baby?” He grunt, before you hear a punch being throw. “I‘ll come get you quick.”

You wait by the trees, sitting towards the entrance of the woods that you took off sprinting earlier. You were tired, had been years since you used your cursed technique, your muscles had gone missing after many malnourished sessions given by your kidnappers, as a lesson for disobedience, but you never stopped, never bowed down. For however long had the Zen’in Clan kept you, they never achieved their most sacred wish, the whole reason for capturing you. You were proud of that, even with your many scars and poorly healed broken bones, you were safe from the future they wanted, and now you were truly safe.

It’s silent before you see the first strands of white hair coming behind the trees. He moves gracefully with blood all over him, and you can tell none of it it’s his. Gojo keeps staring at the floor, but you know he knows you are there, standing up fast.

“Satoru?” You move towards him, but he catches your halfway, hugging your body like a cage you would have much preferred than the other you have lived. Your head is in his chest, and his is in your neck ��� both of you checking the other’s heartbeat, making sure it’s all real.

“If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.” Satoru says against your skin. He lifts his gaze to be met with your eyes, so pretty he smiles. “But If I do, I’ll burn the Zen’ins again. I’ll take it as a sign, you are alive, you are waiting for me.” Gojo closes his eyes and bring his forehead to yours. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

“I am real, my love.” It’s you who initiates the kiss, he answers right away, hands moving to all the right places, keeping you still under him, where you have always been meant to be. Gojo doesn’t let you separate your lips, but does so when you start to giggle. “I want to leave, and after a perfect bath, we can have all the kisses in the world.”

“Do you want to see the others?”

Is a instant after your nod, and you are in the garden of a temple, hands interlock and gazes lifted, Satoru walks with you towards the entrance, he puts you behind him before getting inside a room.

“What took you so long?” You recognize Geto’s voice right away, you squeeze Gojo’s hand. “Thanks for my wife calling, Shoko and Utahime came.” Satoru is quiet in front of you. “What? Yeah, fine, I am disappointed you didn’t pranked my daughters, wife already put them to sleep anyways.” Oh, so Satoru wasn’t seeing anyone? Wait, daughters? How long you were out?

“What is it, Gojo?” Is Shoko who asks this time, but again Satoru keeps quiet. “Is that blood on you?” Your head shuffling and movement, but out of nowhere, Gojo moves to behind you, hands on your shoulders in a instant, startling everyone.

“You should check her first.” Is all he says while your old friends faces turns from shock to relief, and then tears. There is so many of those you feel your robes drenching more than before on the rain. But everything is warm, be the presence of your lover behind you or the arms of your found family, all burns away the fears of your past.

You take a shower with Satoru before returning to the living room with matching sweaters, Geto has you eating a proper meal before giving you the most extra decorated hot chocolate you had ever had. Is in his couch, under Satoru’s arm, that you start to talk.

“There was this woman many years ago, a sorcerer who could see the future, she left many letters hidden in many sealed boxes she buried all over Japan. One of those spoke about you, Satoru. She predicted your birth.” You gaze him quickly, before sipping the chocolate. “The Zen’in Clan wanted to find something about themselves, adamant she must have written when would the next sorcerer with the Ten Shadows Technique appear.”

All eyes are on you, avoidant of your trembling hands, except for Gojo, he grabs the cup from your hand and kisses your head.

“I found the boxes, it was my missions to find them for the High Ups. And I did good, but the Zen’in interfere, demanding to know just what concerned to them, and I guess someone took pity and let them read.” You gulped. “My name was on the last letter, saying that my blood was strong enough that I would bear an powerful heir, even stronger than their father. The letter specifically said who the father would be, a Gojo. with both Limitless and the Six Eyes.” You are already staring at Satoru, his eyes are all o ver your face, inspecting for the truth, there is a small smile on his face.

“I’m gonna be a cool dad.” It’s all he says before looking at your friends.

“Shut up.” You timidly said. “The thing is, the Zen’in only cared about my blood and genetics part, they thought if I give them a child, it could be the next Ten Shadows’s user. I can’t tell with certain, but I think they got the blessing from the High Ups, it was supposed to be a quick mission, even I thought it was weird, I’m always needed with weird quests. I found nothing but Zen’in Naoya, who proudly called himself my master and me his concubine.”

Your attention went to Gojo, he was biting the skin of his fingers, you grabbed his hands quickly and noticed the old scars and recent wounds, kissing all of them.

“They seized me with the help of a sorcerer from the Kamo Clan, she could power down my curse, in exchange for an heir to the Kamo’s as well, but electricity has always run on me. They learned to handle the shocks, but only for a couple of minutes. Naoya never touched me like that.” You said to calm your friends, but you as well. Had that woman been a bit more stronger, your life would have been different.

“That’s how I scape, before dinner they forgot that sorceress are humans as well, and I was left alone with her. I killed her with normal punches who turned into electrical punches. Then, I found Naoya and strike a lightning on his crouch, before I could do more damage, the others saw and i ran, grabbed his phone and called you, I thought I was going to die and needed to hear your voice.” There is tears streaming down not only your face, but everyone else’s. Your pain is being dissected in front of everyone, you had been so close all this time. “You didn’t pick up at first, but I kept trying, and you did. And it wasn’t enough, I needed to see you. So you came.”

“You called me, I will always come to you.” Satoru has you in his arms again, hugging you scared that this might all be a dream yet, he couldn’t live without you ever again, and with the way you would hold him back, he knew you felt the same.

Gojo had never been so sure of something when he made you get up from the couch with him, even confused you did and stared at your friends, their wet eyes were as confused as yours. You turn back to Satoru, and he is on one knee. Gojo hands left yours to move to his neck, removing his silver chain that was hidden under his shirt, now you see the dangling diamond ring in it. Satoru takes the ring and stares at you, hopelessly in love and devoted.

“You know I have always loved you, everyone in this room can testify to that. I knew you were alive, I knew we would see each-other again, and I promised myself that when we did met, I had to marry you.” You try hard to see Gojo through your wet vision, he smiles triumphantly even before he gives you the question. “I bought this ring after you disappeared, and it was what kept me safe, the promise that one day it would be in your finger, and your name complimented with mine. The future is what has held me, the thought of you. So please, my love, let’s start our future. Marry me?”

It’s the quickest ‘Yes’ you had ever said, you repeat it like a mantra, Gojo laughs while sliding the ring on your finger and kissing all over your hand, then he gets up and kisses you again and again and again, until Shoko, Utahime and Geto’s wife are pushing him away and hugging you, letting your fiancé to his friend.

Later that night, when the talk gets easier and calmer, with every couple holding themselves like a silent prayer of what could happen or re-happen, they take solace in their lovers. Shoko stares at Gojo and his happy smile, he looks, once more, so young. One of his hands goes straight to his lips, and Ieiri is tempted to slap it away from his teeth, but Gojo stops himself before anyone could, he simply moves one hand to your face in a love embrace and the other to touch your finger and keep spinning your ring.

The medic had been right all along, he is too busy devouring your love and attention and giving all those ten years of love he himself had kept, to focus on picking his skin. His scars would forever heal from now on, with you by his side, nothing would ever hurt again.

[celestiamour]

May I request a flirty Edmund x flustered fem reader? Like the reader is trying to tend to his wounds after a battle or something but Edmund keeps distracting her by trying to show off and making teasing comments? And could it be a non-established relationship?

umm, I know you said requests were open (and you have the right to write what you want anyways) but if you don't want to do this then feel free to ignore this :))

anyways thank you! have a great day<3

ft. edmund pevensie x f! reader — the chronicles of narnia

╰₊✧ edmund flirting while you tend to his wounds┊0.7k words

setting: unspecified narnian age contains: descriptions blood/injury & mentions of battle, ed is a cheesy menace, medical inaccuracies probably

➤ author's note: i made it a bit shorter than planned, but i hope it’s still okay and that you’ll enjoy!!

“oh, god, edmund!” your concerned voice was a bit louder than it was supposed to be upon the sight of one of your beloved kings being brought into the medical tent, prompting you to quickly apologize to everyone in there before rushing to his side. the battle was already over and victory had been named for your kingdom of narnia, so several soldiers injured from the aftermath were being brought to you for recovery (thankfully, there weren’t so many that the youngest queen needed to go running around healing them with her elixir). “i was really hoping not to see any royalty today…”

he seemed a bit paler than usual from blood loss, but he weakly smiled at you rushing to his side, “edmund, huh? whatever happened to you insisting on calling me by my title?”

“is that really what you’re focusing on?” you immediately started removing his armor and cutting away at the fabric of his sleeve that obscured the damage for examination. it looked like an arrowhead got lodged in his arm and the wooden shaft got broken off at some point, needing to be removed in order for you to progress. “stay still and count to ten.”

“i don’t need to count to ten when the ten is right in front of— fuck!!” he almost bit his tongue in the middle of his compliment when you took the opportunity to take out the piece of metal with a pair of tongs, swiftly tossing it on a tray then applying pressure and working your magic as you were trained to.

“stop being so cheeky and let me get you cleaned up!” you huffed, trying to focus on your work instead of his flirtatious advances. it was no secret to anyone with eyes and ears that edmund fancied you and has been trying to woo you for quite some time now, but it seems that the only thing preventing you from being officially courted by him was your own denial of your feelings. even if the royal family made it clear that they would marry for love rather than status, you would still deny with everything in you that he always manages to make you falter without fail.

“a-at least if i die, the last sight i see will be the most beautiful girl in existence by my side,” he joked before hissing at the stinging sensation of you cleaning his wound. it was nowhere near the worst pain he felt or the closest he’s ever been to death, but he thought it would be funny to exaggerate the agony to get you to pay more attention to him as if it wasn’t already all on him.

“don’t say that! it’s not even bad enough to be that much of a bother, just remember to wash the wound with alcohol and change the bandages every day.”

“so i guess that means i’ll be seeing you every day since none of my servants are professionals like you are? i’m a king, you know, so it would only be expected to have the best of the best look after me!”

“… fine, i guess i’ll see you around this time for the next week for so until you’re fully healed…” his stupid smile made you get all hot and you turned around so that he couldn’t see your face for your reaction, but the very action told him everything that he needed to know.

“so do you think you could also help me up then walk be back to the palace to announce our victory and our relationship?”

“you hurt your arm, not your legs, so you don’t need my help to go back! also, we aren’t even a couple yet, there’s nothing to announce!”

“not a couple yet? so you admit that we will be someday?”

“oh, you’re insufferable!”

his cheeks ached a bit from all the smiles and laughter, able to ignore the pain like it was a mere paper cut thanks to the amusement teasing you has brought him. the day you’ll be his and he’ll be yours (although he always was yours) is close, he could feel it— and he’ll gladly milk this minor injury as much as he can if it means bringing that moment closer to him by spending more time with you.

[neerons]

Some of Gilbert von Obsidian's best quotes

[Warning: Heavy spoilers about Gilbert's route]

"Ahaha, what is the prince of Obsidian, if not rotten?"

"I hate people."

"No matter how hard I try not to, I can't help but be gentle with her. What kind of villain am I?" (—Gilbert talking about Emma to himself)

"(...) I hope you don't accidentally end up calling me 'big bro' or anything." (—Gilbert to Leon)

"(...) You were just saying what you really think. I don't think doing that is rude. And it's true I'm someone scary."

"I like you because you're so warm, little rabbit."

"Ahaha! You're so sassy. But I like that about you."

"I want to make things awkward for you."

"You can't just focus on the best of someone while ignoring the worst of them."

"If you were a bother, I'd kill you, so don't worry." *smile intensifies*

"...I'm no match for that pure, innocent gaze of yours. You're the only one capable of pushing me around, you know."

"Depending on what you say next, I might just take your head clean off." (—Angry Gilbert to Emma)

"(...) You nearly died. ...Do you have any idea how much that chilled me to the core?"

"The only thing I can ever be for you is a villain. ...Unfortunately."

"...Thank you. I almost got murdered by some dust."

"If you keep on lying over and over about being fine, I might just... Well, you can guess, right?"

"I found it in a book in the little rabbit's room. They need to understand what happens to them if they try to interfere with what's mine... Don't they?" (—Gilbert talking about a poisoned needle targeting Emma to Roderic)

"You said it, remember? You said you wanted me to learn to love Rhodolite. To me, you are Rhodolite."

"Those born with status have the right to do whatever they like to those who are lesser than them. That's what you want to say, isn't it? (...) Hmm? What's that? You look a little distressed for some reason. But I suppose that's no surprise. You see, I have the right to tyrannize you however I please, just as you tyrannized those children who had no one to protect them. I'm imperial royalty, and you're just a third-rate aristocrat. So I'm going to have to teach you just how different our social positions are... Aren't I? (...) Aren't you lucky that we're in Rhodolite? You've narrowly escaped death. If this was Obsidian, you'd be dead for sure. After all, we have no need for disgusting nobles who defile the purity of children." (—Gilbert to a Baron of Rhodolite)

"Wait, so you're telling me you baked cookies for another man, even though I'm right here. Ouch, that hurts."

"(...) if by chance I run into your dear papa, he'll kill me." (—Gilbert talking about Akatsuki)

"Welcome to Obsidian. (...) I introduced myself as Gilbert von Obsidian, didn't I? There's only one person in this country allowed to use the Obsidian name. And that's the emperor."

"There's nothing about you or me that makes one of us intrinsically inferior or superior to the other. Humans are all basically the same. And naturally, from a societal perspective, we probably need people who can take the lead. People who are capable, and talented, who can bring others together, and build a better tomorrow. That's a healthy way to be. I'm the ruler of a country that knows deception and decay all too well, so I understand better than most. That's why my ideal, my ambition, is to conquer all the royalty that have infested this whole continent, and free the people who are under their control."

"I wrote that story based on you. (...) Akatsuki told me a lot of stories about you, and they were always stories about you showing love and affection for others. He made it sound like you believed that the true nature of people is love, and that the happiness of others was what made you the happiest. The idea of living like that was repulsive to me, but at the same time, it made me curious. I got to wondering what sort of choices you'd make, if you were in the same position I was."

"You were bullying small children to amuse yourselves. That Rhodolitian might have stopped at just punching you, but I'm not that kind. Did I make military regulations or didn't I? And do those regulations say attacking non-combattants is forbidden, or don't they?" (—Gilbert to Obsidianite soldiers)

"Then how about you call me papa?" (—Gilbert to Luke)

"...Don't go. (...) I don't know... if I can hold on... until you get back. Being on my own... is lonely..."

"...You're the only one I'll ever love."

"I'm taking your daughter." *smile intensifies* (—Gilbert to Akatsuki)

"I'm not oppressing you with my power, it's just my love for you, overflowing."

"You can't do things like this with other men... Unless you want to see dead bodies."

"You're liked by everybody. A lot of the princes helped you out today. That's because people adore you, and they naturally want to help you out. They're all beasts with strong characters, but you're important to all of them. Do you know how rare that is? That means you're charming to everyone you meet. ...Including me, of course."

"There's no way I'd ever let anyone else kill you. It has to be me."

"I can't just bare my body for free."

"I've never liked seeing you clothe your body in things that other people have put their hands all over."

"Don't force yourself to talk. I'm not so narrow-minded that I'll go around saying you're disrespectful just because you didn't thank me. You're sick; you're supposed to just drink medicine and sleep."

"Wah, boohoo. I can't believe we were on different pages this whole time. I've given you my entire heart, and yet, look at what you've done with it! (...) Waaah, I'm so heartbroken that the only thing that could bury my sadness is world domination!"

"For his sake, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear him call me 'eyepatch bastard'. Rude." (—Gilbert's thoughts about Silvio)

"Her ability to right what was wrong, purify what was once sullied... It runs at complete odds with my nature. I may have truly met my match." (—Gilbert's thoughts about Emma)

"I blinked a few times as my vision seemed to expand all at once... and the little rabbit become clearer and even more beautiful." (—Gilbert's thoughts about Emma)

"I'm never letting you go. If you run away from me, I'll conquer the whole world and follow you to the ends of the earth if that's what it takes. No wait... I just need to control your heart, so that you'll never even want to leave me." (—Gilbert's thoughts about Emma)

"We all approach life differently. Chevalier slices hearts in two. I trample on them. But, you... You respect them."

"I wanted to see you bawling your eyes out."

"You're... the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"I like the little rabbit very much, you see. So I certainly hope that bold declaration of yours doesn't end up turning into a lie." (—Gilbert to Silvio, in Silvio's route)

"I'm not interested in the average woman. There's someone that caught my eye when I was young." (—Gilbert talking to Silvio, Rio, Keith, Sariel and Emma)

"You like these stories, don't you? Ones where a lowly village girl falls in love with a big, bad emperor and makes him change his ways—"

"It's a good thing I was born with a pretty face. If I looked scary without even trying, it would almost be TOO perfect."

"Keith, if you get tired, we can swap places. (...) Shame, Daddy says we can't." (—Gilbert talking about carrying Emma instead of Keith, but is stopped by Sariel)

"I was able to find some... treasure too, so I'm very satisfied with today." (—Gilbert most probably talking about Emma to the other princes and Emma)

"What? You'd like some new heads to decorate the castle's gates?" (—Gilbert to Emma telling him she wants friends)

"After a while of being betrayed over and over again, you start thinking to yourself. That maybe the world would be a better place if everyone who wasn't your friend just dropped dead."

"I know her. But only in fantasy. Because there's no way an Obsidianite royalty can have anything to do with a mere bookstore worker. (...) Die without meeting her? Or die after meeting her. Well, that's easy. I prefer the latter in that case." (—Gilbert's thoughts about Emma)

"I tried to hold down my excitement as I knocked softly on the door. (...) The door opened softly, revealing a woman that was different from what I had imagined. Strange. I thought she'd be more childish looking based on his stories. Her eyes that looked directly at me were clear and devoid of any baseless optimism. She was clearly a woman, not a child. I smiled to carefully hide my surprise. (...) She's purer and prettier than I imagined." (—Gilbert's thoughts about meeting Emma for the very first time)

"Oh, I get it. You think I was with another woman, don't you? Ahaha, you get jealous so easily. But don't worry, I only see you.If it would make you feel better though, I could always kill each and every single woman that gets close to me."

"...And so we've decided to officially hold our wedding ceremony. Can we count on your blessing, papa?" (—Gilbert to Akatsuki)

"You're much more important to me than family, you know. (...) After all, you're still alive, aren't you? I wouldn't kill you no matter what you did."

"I really do love you. And it's because I love you that I want to look good in front of you, and hide the things that I don't want you to see." (—Gilbert talking about his health condition to Emma)

"Do you know how long I've been wanting to officially bind you to me?" (—Gilbert's thoughts)

"Oh, that hurts... I just wanted to shower my beloved fiancee with my love, but I guess you don't want to... I'm absolutely heartbroken now. I might just have to go out and conquer one of the neighboring countries just to soothe myself."

"You're my type of lady. Do you know why? (...) I, for one, enjoy the rebellious, sassy look you always have in your eyes. I feel this strong will— that you will never bow down to me. That even though you're terrified, you won't run away."

[thelostconsultant]

Let her go

pairing: Lando Norris x MotoGP rider!reader

summary: You have a massive crash on a weekend when you're both racing. And that crash was really massive.

warnings: major character death (surprise, surprise)

Every time your race weekends took place at the same time, you both promised to watch the other’s sessions live if they weren’t at an ungodly hour that would screw up your sleep schedule, and in every other case you would watch it later when you had the time. It worked well so far, and this weekend wasn’t any different. You were both in Europe, the sessions’ start times were aligned perfectly to make sure fans could watch both F1 and MotoGP.

Lando was sitting on a couch in front of a TV, watching you make it into Q2 from Q1 with the best lap time with a proud smile on his face. Some members of the team joined his little watch party, although he knew perfectly well most of them had their favorite riders, who weren’t necessarily you. But it didn’t bother him. He was one of your biggest fans, and the same way you were one of his.

Four minutes into the qualifying you were in P6, a decent result that would give you a second row start, but there was time for several flying in the remaining time, so he knew you had to improve in run two to keep that position. The Ducatis were fast, and you were riding a GP23 that wasn’t as fast as the newest model, but still gave you a chance to fight for a first row position. Well, Marc was there to snatch it again, but maybe you would stand a chance against the eight-time world champion if you put together one amazing lap.

It was your first flying lap in run two when the cameras began to follow you. You were pushing yourself hard, it was clear, but you had a great first sector and at the moment you were estimated to finish in P2. But then he saw you being catapulted off your bike, landing on the track while the vehicle crashed into the barrier on the side of the track behind the gravel trap. Lando’s breath caught in his throat as he waited for you to jump up and walk away, but you didn’t move.

At all.

The race was immediately red flagged and luckily the other riders noticed you in time and didn’t hit you to make things worse. But the cameras quickly turned to find other parts of the track and the pit lane, the only thing shown related to the accident being the reactions of the team in the box and on the pit wall. Lando could feel his colleagues’ gazes on him, everyone sitting in heavy silence as they waited to find out what was happening. He sent a message to your assistant to make sure she called after getting any news about you, but according to her no one knew anything.

After fifteen long minutes his phone rang, and as if the others could sense he wanted to be alone now, they left without a word. “Hey, you have news?” he asked, voice trembling badly.

The young woman on the other end of the line took a deep breath, then said, “She was airlifted to the hospital. It’s bad, Lando. We’ll only know the exact details after they examined her there, but she’ll be in surgery for a long time apparently. The doc said there might be a spinal injury among the other things. I’m about to book a flight for her parents so they can be there with her.”

He gulped in hopes this could hold back his tears. Your job was dangerous, he had always said those guys in MotoGP were crazy, but having to witness the love of his life crash like that was a little too much. He always assumed the worst that could happen to you was a broken bone in your hand or a cracked collarbone, but a little metal could fix that, just as it had fixed dozens of riders on the grid over the years.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Can you keep me updated?” he asked her.

“Sure. FP3 is coming up for you, right? Be careful, the last thing we need is you getting hurt too.”

They said goodbye and Lando leaned back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. She was right, his next session was just about to begin, but how could he focus on driving when you were in such a bad condition? Maybe he would get in, then get out if his head wasn’t in it. There was no reason to force this.

He felt the couch shift on his side, and when he looked over there, he noticed Oscar sitting next to him with a worried look in his eyes. “I heard what happened,” was all he said.

Lando let out a deep sigh as he ran a hand through his curly hair. “I don’t wanna be here, I wanna be there with her,” he said, his voice breaking as he struggled to keep the tears back. “I’m so stupid, I always thought she was invincible, but in reality she is so fragile, I don’t even know how I could assume she would never get hurt.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” his teammate began as he put a hand on his shoulder. “This was a terrible accident, nothing more. She’s in good hands, there are great doctors there.” When he nodded, Oscar forced a barely visible smile on his face. “I have an idea. Spain isn’t that far away, maybe you could fly there after qualifying, and come back tomorrow before the race. Maybe seeing her could help you focus on driving again.”

It wasn’t such a bad idea, it could actually work, so he nodded and jumped up, moving towards the exit without saying anything. He could hear Oscar following him without missing a beat, and the Aussie soon caught up with him as they headed to find Zak in hospitality where he was last seen. Lando could feel everyone’s gaze on himself, so he assumed the news of your accident had spread like wildfire in the paddock. A journalist tried to approach him, but his teammate was kind enough to get him to leave with an annoyed come on, mate.

Zak was chatting with a VIP guest, but the moment he noticed them arrive, he excused himself and walked over to them. “I heard what happened. How is she? Do you know anything?” he asked worriedly.

Lando shrugged as he tried to find the right words to say. “All I heard is that it’s bad, there might even be a spinal injury.”

“You think you can focus on driving?”

With a nod, he looked down at his hand. “I’ll get in, do a few laps, and we’ll see. I don’t want to miss the weekend unless…”

“Don’t even think about that,” Oscar was quick to say, understanding what the rest of the sentence was supposed to be. “Zak, I’ve been thinking. What if he gets on a plane after qualifying, goes to Spain to see her, then returns tomorrow before the race? Maybe it would be good for him.”

Looking over at his teammate, Lando couldn’t help but feel grateful for his calm personality. He could think straight in even the most stressful situations, and now he could sense that he wasn’t in the right state to come up with these ideas. And Zak seemed to be understanding, because he nodded and agreed to let him do it.

From Lando’s point of view, the practice session just… happened. His head wasn’t in it, he only focused on testing a few settings just to see how the car felt and reacted, but he only did one or two fast laps. Between runs on the track, he kept checking his phone to see if there was any news, but all he saw was a message that you were still in surgery with no new information about you.

Shortly before qualifying, he gave your assistant a call to tell her he would fly there soon, but he wasn’t expecting to be greeted like this. Because she was crying, her voice muffled as she talked, and he had trouble understanding her. Then there were words exchanged in the background, and the phone was obviously taken by someone who wasn’t a crying mess. It was your crew chief, he recognized his voice when he greeted him, but it was also full of sadness.

He knew something was terribly wrong, and he felt nauseous at the thought. “What’s going on?” he managed to ask after some silence.

The man on the other end of the line took a deep breath. “She’s out of surgery, but… she’s hooked on machines and the doctors say she’ll stay that way. The staff in the medical center assumed she only had a severe concussion, but tests showed that the brain injury was much more serious than expected.”

“No.”

“Her parents aren’t here yet, but we talked to them the moment we got new info. They understand what’s happening, and they wanted us to tell you they will wait for you to get here tomorrow so you can say goodbye before they turn off the machines,” he said, his voice cracking by the end.

Lando felt like fainting. His head was spinning, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to scream, but at the same time his body froze entirely. He just stood there in the back of the garage, staring straight ahead as he thought about what he should do. It was only after a minute or two that he took a deep breath and said, “I’m going there right now.”

But Paolo was quick to speak up again. “Lando, listen, she would want you to get in that car and go on with the weekend as if nothing happened. You will come here tomorrow after the race, and you will have time to let her go,” he said, forcing himself to keep his calm.

“What do you mean let her go? Apparently everyone, including her own parents, gave up on her. There has to be at least one person there who fights for her, because the doctors need to do something to fix her!” he yelled into the phone, earning a few worried looks.

“Listen, there’s no fixing her. She’s brain-dead. If it weren’t for the machines, she wouldn’t be alive now.” Silence fell between them, and it was your crew chief who broke it. “Lando?”

“Fuck this,” was all the Brit said before ending the call.

His vision was blurred by the tears, but he wiped them away and headed to where Zak was talking to one of the engineers. At this point he wasn’t about to take no for an answer, so he approached him with the intention to state his intention to leave immediately before actually doing so. When his boss’ eyes fell on him, it was clear that he knew something was wrong, because the moment he got there, Zak grabbed his arm and gently led him to a more private part of their garage.

He didn’t say anything, only waited for his driver to talk to him. But Lando hesitated, having absolutely no idea where to begin and how to tell him the truth about you. Paolo had been right, you would want him to continue, but how could he do that when they were ready to pull the plug without trying to make things right? There had to be something they could do.

Zak seemingly had enough of the silence. “What’s wrong? Bad news about her?” he asked, his voice unusually soft.

Lando nodded. “They say she’s brain-dead and can’t be saved,” he said, once again fighting his tears. “I–I don’t think I can do this. The qualifying, the race, the whole fucking media circus… I just can’t do it, I’m sorry.”

“Okay, try to calm down. Get in the car, do a few laps, and see if you can focus on that. Maybe it will even help you clear your mind,” he tried, but all he got in response was a murderous look. “She would understand if you arrived a few hours later. Just like we agreed; you go there after qualifying, then return tomorrow before the race. We need points to beat Red Bull this year. We need you on the track, Lando, even if it sounds terrible now. Dedicate this weekend to her.”

He agreed, but only because of you. Only because the people around the two of you were right, and as a professional athlete you would focus on your race too. So, he did everything he could to focus, he pushed himself to the limit, and eventually managed to finish the qualifying in P2. First row behind Charles. You would be proud. Their press officer warned the reporters that they should not ask questions about you, so he could focus on the session alone, although mentally he was already on his way to the airport.

A few hours later he met your assistant in the hospital’s lobby after fighting his way through the army of photographers and reporters outside. She guided him to the room you were in without saying a single word, and when you reached the door, she stayed outside, even though everyone was inside. He gave her a questioning look when he turned back, but she only shook her head and wiped away her tears.

Your mother jumped up and hugged him tightly when she noticed him, and your father also stood up to do the same. Lando didn’t know what to say, but neither did your parents. Paolo was watching him with a worried look in his eyes, the memory of their previous conversation probably vivid in his mind. But he wasn’t about to make a scene. He had time to think, he had time to do some research, so now he understood the chances of you coming back to them was close to none.

With hesitant steps, he walked to the side of the bed and took your hand, his thumb massaging your skin the same way he had done so many times in the past. But now you wouldn’t react, you wouldn't wrap your delicate fingers around his hand with that adorable smile on your face. He started crying, for the first time letting himself go and not holding it back, and he began to tell you between sobs how sorry he was for not coming sooner, for all the times you fought over stupid, meaningless things, for not proposing before it became too late.

He told you how much he loved you, how he couldn’t imagine ever loving anyone else the same way he loved you. Then he leaned down to kiss your lips, probably for the very last time, and he kept repeating I love you like it was a mantra that kept him sane.

After God knows how long, your mother put a hand on his shoulder to make him look at her. By now he had stopped crying, but after seeing her watering eyes, he had a feeling he would be crying again soon. Because he could tell what was coming, he could feel it in his bones. That grave sadness in her eyes could only mean one thing, and even though he wasn’t ready to hear it, he paid close attention to every word.

“I think it’s time to let her go,” she said hoarsely.

To his own surprise, Lando nodded and let her take his place, then he stood in a corner and watched as your parents said goodbye to you. He didn’t want this, he couldn’t accept that he lost you, but a rational part in his mind told him it was over, and it was time to let you go. Your mother was right, it was better to turn off the machines now, because seeing you hooked on them for a few more days would only drive them crazy.

He said goodbye to your parents in the hospital after the doctor announced the time of your death and went to his hotel to spend the night crying and suffering on his own. He saw the messages on his phone, and he noticed the way their number increased after your team announced your death on official channels. But he didn’t want to talk to anyone, and even at the race the next day, he avoided everyone as long as he could. If he talked, he only talked about the car and the upcoming race, everything else was a taboo at the moment.

On the track he was powered by his rage, which resulted in a couple of aggressive moves, but in the end, he managed to win the race. When he stood in front of the reporter after getting out of the car, he was terrified of a question regarding you arising, because he was damn sure he would break down at that very moment, but apparently his press officer had previously told them not to bring it up. So, all he said was a simple I did it for her at the end and nothing more.

It would be a long process to move on, he knew that.

His parents told him to come over until the funeral so he wouldn’t be alone, which would surely help him calm down a bit, then he would lock himself up in his home and his focus would shift back to racing again. But deep down he knew he had to let his friends close again too, because they kept assuring him that they were there, and he could always count on them. Maybe that was the key. Maybe letting others support him would speed up the grieving process.

[planetwaynez]

obsessed

Jason x Roy x Fem!Reader

Notes: This is part 2 to bad ideia right? !!! So like I said on part one I got exicited and wrote too much, but this is a very special universe to me and I hope you guys enjoy the part two!

WARNINGS: kidnapping, tourture, aggression, complicated feelings, talks about death and guilt, murder, SMUT! cunnalingus, DP, edging.

Words: 7,2k

TAGLIST: @ilyyuuji @witchymomfrien @makiplsfkme @parttimeshadowhunter @fandxmslxt69 @27drunkdeer @solarrexplosion @mariam12344

Synopsis: She is safe once again after Roy and Jason's help, now she can live her life fully - or at least that's what they think.

TWO WEEKS LATER - AFTER SHE LIVES 

It's been two weeks since she left the safe house that turned her home for four months. 

Even though she knows she is safe, Y/N can’t shake the feeling of being watched away, maybe she is being paranoid or just finding ways to reach out to Roy and Jason again but deep down, she is scared that they didn't eliminated all of the threats, that one got away and is in hidden, waiting the right moment to strike her.

Y/N walks down the busy street of New York, always looking over her shoulder, even though she knows nothing will happen, she needs to relax and live her life again. 

She takes a deep breath and enters the bookshop, feeling the warmth of the place envelop her and inducing her to forget all of her worries; She will relax more from now on, if they said there is no danger, then there is no danger.

At least, that's what they want her to believe; 

TWO MONTHS LATER - AFTER SHE LIVES 

Y/N is finally comfortable in her own skin again, finally comfortable in walking around the city without keeping an eye out, finally comfortable to go out at night with her friends and she even applied to her masters degree. And that's exactly what they wanted from her.

You see, it’s not because you killed a few snakes in a nest that you managed to kill them all. 

Arsenal and Red Hood may have killed a bunch of the mafia but they didn’t kill all of it, and that’s why Victor Zsaz watches her right now. He was hired by a very angry heir to kill her and boy, was he enjoying watching her become comfortable in herself again. It was like watching a child learn how to walk, except that he was watching a grown woman learn how to be functional again. 

Victor takes a deep breath and smiles as Y/N gets in the busy pub, she is smiling and is dressed in a short black dress, looking adorable and oh so dumb to her surroundings. 

He made sure that tonight none of the boys would be around, since from time to time they come to see how she is doing on her own. It's cute, but totally ineffective since they never caught a glimpse of him. He enters the pub and follows her from a distance, keeping an eye on her movement around the crowded space, his instructions are very clear. Kidnap her, take her to the heir that he didn’t bother learning the name, torture her  a bit and then kill her off. An easy job, especially now that she is drinking again and it looks like the six shots of tequila she just took are hitting hard. 

Victor sits at the bar and waits;

And waits; and waits and waits;

Until it is around three in the morning and she looks wasted. He smiles and decides it's time;

He walks to her with a soft smile on his lips, getting mentally ready to deal with her drunkness. 

“Hello, lovely” he says, touching her waist lightly; She turns around and tilts her head to the side, but she smiles nonetheless. 

“Hello!” she screams, her eyes are glossy and they can’t focus on much at the same time; He smiles even more.

“You are so pretty” Victor says, getting closer to her and she giggles like the stupid brainless thing that she is; “How about we go to a more secluded place?” he shoots his shot and waits for her answer;

He knows he is not the hottest guy but he is fairly confident in his skills, and when she nods biting her lips, he knows he got her; 

Victor drags her out of the pub, listening to her talk about how she is not one for casual sex, but it's making an exception because ‘it's been too long’ and he is kinda cute. He is getting tired of her voice so when they reach his car and she is seated at the passenger's seat, he drugs her so she blacks out. It doesn't take much for her to pass out and look miserable. Victor chuckles and walks around the car, sitting at the driver's seat and taking off to the location he has to take her to..

She knew she shouldn’t have gone comfortable, she knew should’ve listened to her gut and called Roy and Jason but now it is too late. When she finally wakes up, she is in an empty room with a cold light on top of her head, her eyes hurt and her stomach is making her sick. Y/N looks around and sees no one, being alone is not a good thing, it’s a way to toy with her head and she can feel panic rising. 

She takes a deep breath and touches the ring in her ring finger, pushing just lightly the panic button that is disguised as a ruby. It’s going to be ok, soon they will be here to rescue her and she won’t have to be waiting for death to collect her.

“Look who just woke up” a voice says as the door is open, revealing a bald man with one scar in his eyebrow, he has a big smile on his lips and she remembers him. It’s the guy from the pub. 

She is so fucked.

“Who are you?” she asks, feeling bile rise in her throat, nausea hitting her like a train.

“Me? I am no one, lovely” he walks closer, until his nose is touching hers. “However you must know my boss, Mr. Campbell” 

Y/N feels her blood getting cold, her head gets empty and her heart is racing faster than its recommended. Roy said they killed the man, unless it’s someone else.

The door opens again and a young tall man enters the room, his eyes are focused on her and he has a mean quiver to his lips, making her nausea even stronger. This is not the Mr. Campbell that she meets, but he looks an awful lot like him. Probably a son that many didn’t know about. 

“Y/N” he says, his voice is pure venom as he crosses the room, coming in her direction “I am going to have so much fun with you”

She takes a deep breath, getting ready for anything that these two throw her way. Even death.

…

When Jason and Roy got the call from Y/N’s panic button they were kissing. Hard. Kissing to the point where they were shirtless and Roy was sitting in Jason’s lap. But everything stopped when their own rings in their ring fingers started to beep like a siren, very loudly; They looked at each other and started to move as fast as they could. 

Roy is calling Dinah and asking for a private plane while he puts on his combat boots and Jason is cursing himself for ever letting Roy convince him that taking a trip to Los Angeles was a good idea for their anniversary. 

They are out of the motel in less than twenty minutes and driving as fast as possible to the airport, the localization of Y/N is the outskirts of New York City, and they need to get there fast before something awful happens to her.  They don’t say it but they know they will never live a full life again if she dies. She was not theirs but knowing that she was alive and healthy was enough for them to move on as much as they could, if she dies, they won’t have anything from her ever again, not even a text asking how Lian is doing.

So they rush as much as they can.

…

Her head feels heavy and her body is in pain. She can’t think or even move, it's like she is in a state of numbness. Nothing seems right and she is just so tired. Y/N wants a nap, or two, or maybe not wake up again.

She is not sure how long it’s been since she pushed the button to call Jason and Roy but she knows what she’s been through in the meantime. Henry Campbell, the son and heir of her ex boss - who’s dead, is having his fun with her mind and body.  Henry and Victor punched, kicked, cutted and pushed her hair in their fists until they got bored. They said horrible things and they made mind games with her. She is tired and starting to lose hope.

They won’t come. They don’t care. They knew this was going to happen.

The intrusive and cruel thoughts won’t stop coming, making her dizzy and her throat tight with sadness, her eyes blurry with tears. 

She closes her eyes and let her breathing get even, maybe a little nap won’t do any harm, not more than she’s been through already.

But before she drifts into unconsciousness, there is a loud sound outside, screams and gunfire. Her heart beats faster and that spark of hope comes back stronger than ever; The door is kicked out of its hinges and she can see Roy standing there, his lips are tight and his breathing is heavy.

“There you are, pookie” he says, running to get her in his arms; When is in front of her, kneeling to see her state better, Roy feels a mixture of things. First, he feels guilty for not being there for her when she needed and not coming faster to her rescue; Second, he feels relief that she is actually alive. “Look at me, pookie” Roy asks but he sees right out that her eyes are glazing and she can’t seem to understand what is happening - not fully.

“Red Hood!” Roy screams for his boyfriend, hoping that he is already done with Szaz and Henry Campbell, the lost son of the Mr. Campbell they killed a few months prior. 

Roy holds Y/N's face, trying to keep her awake, since she has a concussion if he sleeps, he won’t ever again see her eyes or hear her voice. Jason sprints into the room, his breathing heavy even through  the voice modulator of his helmet. 

“Don’t tell me that she has a concussion” the brunette kneels next to the redhead, moving Y/N hair out of her eyes and looking for her gaze, but he only finds confusion and fear there. His heart is being crushed inside his chest. 

“You know she does, but she is not responsive” Roy’s voice is full of panic and he is starting to spiral, and Jason knows that he will have to think hard for everyone so they can’t get out of this labyrinth. 

“Take her, I will lead us out” he says, getting up and a plan starts to create itself in his mind. Szaz is unconscious and Henry Campbell and all his men are dead, and if there are more people out there wanting revenge against his and Roy’s girl, he will take them down. He promised he wouldn’t kill without a reason anymore, and now he has a really good one to kill every single person that harms who he loves. 

Jason looks behind him, watching as Roy takes Y/N in his arms in a delicate way, so she won’t feel more pain or get scared. They nod at each other and Jason starts to lead the way out of the horrible place, the only thing in his mind is Roys and Y/N’s safety, then getting her to Alfred so he can patch her up. He won’t let anyone with bad intentions near her ever again.

While Jason is focused, Roy is sparling. And he is spariling really hard. His mind is full of bad thoughts. All the possibilities of what could've happened to her if they didn't get there in time.  All the physical and mental torture that she gone through because they were careless and were more around her. All the punches, kicks, slaps, cuts because he didn’t feel to his knees in front of her when she was leaving their safe house and begged her to stay with them. 

He holds her closer to his chest, holding her bridal style but wanting to lay down, hug her and sob all his tears in her hair, he is scared, so scared that he won’t ever again see her, smell her perfume or hear her laugh. He doesn’t understand how they let Szaz slide, but they did, and now they are paying the price.   

…

ONE WEEK LATER - AFTER THE INCIDENT 

Jason paces around the bedroom, looking at Y/N in the bed. She’s been out for a week now and Leslie said that she would wake up any moment. Neither him or Roy left this bedroom in their apartment since she got here. The only people allowed are Leslie and Alfred, not even Lian can get inside - they are trying to prevent her from more trauma. 

Roy opens the door, walking inside; He looks miserable, dark bags under his eyes and his hair is a mess, but Jason is sure he is not much better than him. 

“Nothing yet?” he asks, giving Jason a mug full of black coffee. Jason sighs, holding the ceramic close to his face, letting the warm vapor soothe his headache. 

“No” they look at each other,  scared that she may not wake up soon or ever. 

“She will wake up” Roy says, trying to hold that last string of hope in him. To not give up;

“She will,” Jason nods, his shoulders getting tense with the idea of not having her ever again to cook with, or to talk about classic books while Roy smiles at them. 

Roy offers his hand to Jason, and he takes, intertwining their fingers together, hoping and waiting for her to wake up.

…

It’s night time and things are calm, there is no movement in the streets and there is no sound coming from Lian’s room - indicating that she is asleep. 

But they wake up with grunts and gasps coming from the bed. Y/N is moving, and she seems scared, nervous. They get closer, each one holding her hand and their eyes full of hope when she gasps again and opens her eyes, her gaze franict, looking at everything and nothing at the same time.

“Calm down, sweets”, Jason says, his voice soft and low, trying to not startle her. Y/N looks at him and frowns, then smiles and her shoulders drop, feelings her mind rest, feeling safe once again. 

“Where am I?” she asks, looking around and not recognizing the bedroom that she is in; Roy enters her field vision and smiles lightly at her, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.

“In our bedroom” he says and she nods, her head is still heavy and she feels her whole body scream at her, sore as a consequence of what happened. 

Y/N feels like she is invading Roy and Jason’s private space by being in their bedroom, but little does she know they've been hoping that she stays with them this time, preferably in this bedroom cuddling at night for the rest of their lives. 

“How do you feel?” Jason asks, worry evident in his blue eyes, she takes a good look at him and tilts her head to the side trying to understand that the worry he is feeling is directed to her healthiness. His hair is tossed, mixing the white strake with the rest of his black hair, making him look a little silly. But the dark bags under Jason’s eyes are obvious and he looks beyond tired. 

She smiles and they feel like the sun is finally shining again - even though it is the middle of the night. 

“I am fine” the tears are pooling at her bottom lashes but she swallows them, not wanting to cry right now, not having the mental energy for that. First, she needs to process what happened to her and process Jason and Roy’s actions. Y/N looks at Roy and he looks tired beyond himself, just like Jason. His red hair is greasy and full of knots, the dark bags under his eyes make him seem sick and his freckles seem to lose color without a smile on his lips. 

“We were so worried, pookie” Roys says, squeezing her hand in his hand when he truly wanted to squeeze her in his arms and not let go, unless it was to let Jason squeeze her in his. 

“Really?” disbelief colors her voice, making her feel more fragile than she already is. Jason moves next to her and clears his throat, clearly wanting to say something.

Since Jasonn died and came back, understanding his emotions was a very difficult task for him, but expressing them? Even worse. His throat dries and his heart beats way too fast, it was very confusing and hard for him to tell Roy his feelings, and now he is going through the same dilemma because of Y/N. Like when he expressed his feelings to Roy, he feels like he needs to assure her that they were both, in fact, worried with her. 

“You have no idea how much” that's all that he says, but she always had a easiness

 understanding him, so she smiles and nods, swallowing more tears. 

Roy reaches for Jason’s free hand and they meet halfway, touching each other with softness, their way to tell one another they are together in this, that it's all going to be okay. 

“Could I please be alone for some time? I know it's late but I need to process what just happened” both men exchange looks and their lips contorts into something she can’t quite describe. 

“If you need to go to the bathroom, please call for us… you were unconscious for a week.” she nods, looking at the machines attached to her body. They modified their room for her, so she didn’t have to endure staying at a hospital during this time. More tears pool at her bottom and she wants to scream until she loses her voice. 

Eventually, they leave the room and she looks at the window, wondering what could've happened if they didn’t rush to her rescue, if she didn’t have the ring in her finger. What was going to be? All the possibilities and different scenarios of tragedy involve her mind and she can feel herself fall in a rabbit hole very fast. 

She feels somewhat numb, remembering all the torture and aggression against her. And in the back of her mind she can’t stop thinking that she was a idiot for ever getting herself into this situation at all.

Only if she had been more careful and less curious. 

Looking at the moonlight entering the bedroom, she finally cries. 

TWO MONTHS LATER - AFTER THE INCIDENT 

The coffee machine is making that annoying sound again, which means Roy didn’t fill it with water until it reached the minimum required by it. Y/N sighs and gets up from her spot on the table, to fill the rest of the machine with the water that it needs to work.

It’s been two months since the biggest trauma of her life happened and she can admit that she processed quite well. Way better than she thought she would. But a lot of the healthy way that she dealt with it is thanks to Roy, Jason and Lian. The man practically forced her to stay at their apartment with them after she woke up and recovered.  Now their guest bedroom is her bedroom, filled with all of her stuff and smelling like her perfume. 

Moving to Gotham was not easy to get adapted to, because it is well, Gotham. 

But they make it worth it.

However in the last month they have been weird, as if they are tiptoeing around about something they want to tell her but don’t have the courage to. 

“Sorry!” Roy screams from Lian’s room and she can hear the girls laugh from the kitchen, saying something about him always doing the same thing, everyday. Roy tells her she always forgets the minimum required by the machine.

Jason chuckles from her side, he is at the stove, cooking pancakes, since it’s friday and its tradition to eat them on friday mornings. Lian’s words, not hers.

She looks at him and he is focused at his task, looking truly beautiful, so much that it’s almost unfair. His hair is falling a little at his eyes and he is shirtless, exposing his muscles and scarred skin to the sunlight of the morning, making Y/N’s mouth dry and heat pool at her belly; In the last two months she had to process her big, complicated feelings towards Jason and Roy. How they make her giggle and how they make her feel safe. How they make her feel hot and bothered. How they are doesn't belong to her but belong  to each other. 

“It’s always the same” she says, rolling her eyes and Jason nods, a smile on his lips. 

“Honestly at this point I think he is doin’ it to piss you off” Jason flips the pancake and watches the other side cook, never looking at her. He never does, not in the mornings at least. Y/N believes he avoids looking at her in the morning because she looks ugly. Jason doesn’t look at her in the mornings because he knows he won’t be able to control himself when she is wearing short pajamas and her hair looks so soft. He would break and kiss her until their lips got swollen. 

“You think so? Because I am sure of it” she turns the coffee machine on again and this time, it doesn’t make a weird sound and the coffee is poured into the jar. 

“Good Morning!” Lian screams and runs towards Y/N, hugging her legs and looking up at the young woman.

“Good Morning, Lili” Y/N says, bending down to kiss Lian’s forehead. Once the girl is sitified she turns to Jason and hugs his legs, wishing good morning to him as well;

“Are we eating strawberries with pancakes today, daddy?” the girl asks, her shining eyes on the fruit next to the pancake plate. Y/n smiles softly at the scene, wanting to hug Lian again.

“Yes, baby” Jason answers her, since she talked directly to him; It took a while for Y/N get used to the fact that Lian calls Roy dad and Jason she calls daddy, but once she did, they very easily fall into routine. 

The little girl sits at her chair at the table and waits for her breakfast, murmuring a song to herself. Roy gets in the kitchen, wearing a dark green shirt and jeans, his bare feet not making a sound on the floor as he walks. His hair is not in a manbun today, falling to his shoulders softly. 

“Good morning” he says, getting to Jason first, holding the brunette's waist and giving him a pack on the lips. Y/N looks away, never getting used to them being physical next to her, even if they never do extravagant things in her presence. She always feels like she is invading their moment. Roy walks to her, his hand going to her cheek and turning her head to him, he already noticed that she looks away everytime he gives Jason a pack or when Jason gives him one, as if she is trying to not stare. They think it’s cute, she always ends up with her cheeks red; Very softly Roy kisses her forehead, as a greeting, when he actually wanted to give her a pack on the lips as well.

But he doesn’t, so he just moves on as always.

“I will be taking Lian to class today, please wait for me to go grocery shopping” Y/N knows he is not asking Jason to wait, since he only leaves on the afternoon to go to his book club down the street, although she has to leave for work at one pm sharp, or she gets late at the hospital lap for her shift. 

“You won’t take the long way, right?” she questions, arching her eyebrow to the redhead and he smiles; His hand still holding her face and compelling her to hold his gaze.

“I promise I won’t” and she believes him, not needing more than just those few words from his lips. If he takes the long way, he gets home at eleven am, but if he takes the short way to and back from Lian’s school, he gets home at eight in the morning. 

They fall apart, going to the table to take their seats and wait for Jason. He hates when they help him in the morning, saying it’s his duty to Lian and not theirs, so they wait patiently for him to finish breakfast.

While waiting, Y/N and Lian talk about how the girl’s day it’s going to be at school. Y/N listens to the little girls rambles attentively, asking questions at the right time and agreeing when it’s needed to. Roy watches them, his hands itching to reach out to the other side of the table and hold Y/N hand on his, he is getting miserable by the day not being able to treat her as she deserves and Roy knows Jason is already miserable.

She is more than just pretty, she is divine. And it’s not just her looks, it’s her brains and her personality and her soul, it’s everything that makes Y/N that turns her into this being made of light. And Roy wants to devour her every time she laughs at one of his jokes or when she gets his favorite ice cream at the grocery shop before him, because she is just that thoughtful. 

He looks at Jason, who is filling another plate with pancakes and they share a look full of meanings. But the main one is: I can’t wait anymore.

They can’t wait anymore, they need to have her to themselves or they are going to slowly turn into mad mans. 

Jason walks to the table and leaves the pancake plates, to go back and return with one full of strawberries. Y/N smiles widely and before she starts to eat, she fills Lian’s plate with pancakes and strawberries. They sit next to each other and Jason sits next to Roy, watching the woman and the girl of his life smile at one another and talk in loud voices about Barbie.

They eat, conversation flows easily, especially with Lian at the table and once they are done, Roy leaves with the little girl to take her to school.

“Till later” she screams and holds Roy’s hands, leaving for another day of education.

Y/N smiles and looks at Jason, that is very much to avoid looking at her again.

“I will get ready, soon Roy is back” Jason only nods and starts cleaning, leaving a confusion on Y/N head. He is acting weird, almost robotically but she says nothing, going to her room to get ready for the day.

While Jason cleans, his mind wonders. When she turned around and her back was to him, he looked. He took a really good look at her in those flimsy pajama shorts and that oversized shirt that once belonged to him. He can’t control his mind, not anymore, fantasizing all the things he would do to her if she only looked at them, if she only saw how much they both burn and agonize for her. 

He finishes cleaning and goes to his and Roy’s room to get ready, sporting a raging hard on that it’s starting to turn painful.

He sighs and thinks about disgusting things to get calm, to not lose all his senses and jump on her when he sees her again.

Twenty minutes later, Roy is home, calling for them from the living room. Jason is the first to answer, showing up to Roy’s encounter and kissing his boyfriend, hard enough to bruise.

‘Wow, what happened?” Roy asks when they break apart and Jason rests his forehead against Roys.

“She was wearing one of my t-shirts today” Jason answers in a hushed voice, low enough to only Roy hear it and the redhead chuckles and caresses Jason back with one hand, leaving the other in his waist. 

“Yeah, yesterday she was wearing one of mine” they both groan lowly, not knowing what to do anymore. They need her just as much as they need each other.

“We have to do something about it” Jason says, his hands playing with Roy’s shirt and wanting to throw a tantrum over not having Y/N.

“Do something about what?” her voice is the one to answer Jason’s and they both stiffen lightly, worried that she hears something she shouldn't, not just yet.

They break apart and turn to her, just to be stunned by her beauty. Y/N was wearing a red suit, paired up with a white satin blouse and white high heels, making her look gorgeous.

Roy never really had a filter and he admits that when he was younger, it was worse. But now, looking at her, he feels like he is twenty again and can’t control his mouth.

“You” he says, not actually thinking anything coerent,  all his thoughts were gone and the only thing in his mind, in a loop, was Y/N on all fours sucking his cock while Jason fucked her from behind.

“What?” she asks, walking towards them. Wrong move, Roy thinks. The closer that she gets, the thinner their control becomes. 

“Do something about you” Roy repeats himself, this time crossing his arms over his chest, to contain his urges to just grab her like a man cave. 

“Oh” she says, and Jason can see in her eyes how oblivious she is. Its evident in her expression that she thinks they are going to kick her out of her apartment. “I will arrange a new place for me, don’t worry, Roy…” she smacks her glossy lips together, avoiding their gaze, “I know it must be weird to live with the ex girlfriend that you had to safe from death, so I will be moving out by the end of the next week” she guarantees and Roy gets angry. 

Really angry.

And it’s not easy to get Roy angry. It’s actually quite hard but with a few words, she managed to make him almost furious. 

And Jason smiles to himself, stepping back and enjoying the scene that is about to happen. He’s been waiting for the moment that Roy loses his mind, loses his control, loses all his composure because if Roy is the first to move, she won’t think that Jason is cheating. Or that he is out of his mind.

He is, but for a different reason. 

“What the fuck did you just said to me?” He doesn't call her pookie and he doesn’t relax his muscles, his jaw is tense. If Jason didn’t know his boyfriend he would have swore that Roy was going to punch Y/N in the face by the way he stood in front of her. But he knows better, he knows he is about to kiss the life out of her, she just has to make the wrong move, again. 

And she does; She moves closer to Roy, looking him dead in the eyes, her lips drawn in a mean scowl. “I said that by the end of the next week, I am moving out”

She truly doesn't know how this happened. How the easy going, soft vibe that was going on earlier turned into something heavy, angry and complicated in a few minutes.

“You are a fucking minx” Roy growls, grabbing her neck in one swift motion and collading his lips against hers. Y/N gasps and tries to move from his grip, her eyes open and wide and Jason smiles, a wicked one. The type of smile she never saw on his pretty face and she knows she is in trouble. 

Jason moves fast and stands behind her, holding her waist and leaning down to whisper at her ear, “Kiss him, sweets” 

And that is all she needs to melt into their hands and kiss Roy back, her hands tangling in his long red hair. Roy moans and pushes his tongue inside her mouth, his body and soul remembering all the things that made her swoon in a tidal wave, making him almost feral. 

He twists his tongue on hers and shivers when she whimpers softly. Fuck, he missed her.

Jason draws lazy circles in her waist, making her mind dizzy, not being able to process all at once, but she leans into his touch, wanting more from him. And he gives, pressing his body against hers and kissing down her neck, making her mewl and letting Roy swallow every sound that she makes.

Roy breaks the kiss, his lips red and swollen, looking down at her with a fire burning in his green eyes; “Turn around, pookie, and Kiss Jay” with his hand around her neck he turns her around, making her face a very horny Jason. No, he is actually going insane. If she doesn’t kiss him, he might never recover from the rejection. 

“Yes” she whispers, her hands going to his hair and bringing his mouth to hers, whimpering when his lips touch hers. Jason relaxes and grips her waist tightly, his tongue twisting around hers in a erotic way, making him hard and wanting.

They break apart and she says, in a rushed voice: “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this, wanting you, wanting Roy” she kisses his cheek and Jason feels warth at this chest, his heart at ease. She turns around and kisses Roy’s cheek and he smiles, some of his anger disappearing. 

“We need you, sweets” Jason says, his voice hoarse with want and his hands are shaking a little bit when he grips her hair and pulls, eliciting a choked sound from her, Y/N’s eyes rolling to the back of her head and her breathing heavy. Roy kisses down her neck and she feels so good with them lavishig her. Jason kisses her face and makes her giggle and Roy pinches her side. 

“Don’t you dare fucking leave” he moves up and Jason lets go of her hair, letting Roy grab her neck once more, “Not letting you go again, ever, you belong to us now, pookie” 

Jason can be possessive, he is aware of his own actions but when Roy gets in a mood, he can be so much worse and right now, he can see in Roy’s eyes that the red head is feeling really possessive. 

“Okay” she whispers, her voice low with desire. 

“Now, we are going grocery shopping” And as he moved towards her like a hurricane, Roy was at the door, leaving her and Jason dumbfounded. 

“Now?” Jason asks, not believing his boyfriend, “I have a hard on, Roy” 

“I know, I do too” and they stare at each other, and neither of them moves, Jason’s hands are resting in Y/N hips and he sighs when his conversation with Roy over looks is done. “She needs to learn to not run away from us, Jay”

Y/N huffs, leaning against Jason's chest and crossing her arms in something very kin to a tantrum. “I don’t run away!”

“You do, actually” that’s all Jason says before he goes to the door and waits for her, Y/N can’t believe they are going grocery shopping when they just made her wet but they are, and she has to go too because they never get the right brand of shampoo and conditioner. 

“That's cruel” she grabs her purse and walks to the door, feeling like an idiot and Roy giggles like a schoolgirl.

“Promise we will fuck you stupid tonight” and he kisses her cheek. Jason agrees with him and kisses her other cheek.

Y/N walks out of the apartment, with a little bit of hope to get what she wants at night, since Lian is going to spend the weekend with Dick and his daughter Mary. 

She truly hopes they fulfill their promise. 

…

Grocery shopping was torture and work was a full session of desperation. Y/N can’t wait to get home, she feels restless and she wishes that the bus moves faster. They are home waiting for her and all she wants is to kiss them and touch their skin.

When she gets out  of the bus, she sprints to their building and gets into the elevator, pushing the button to their floor.

The door opens and, as usual, Roy is waiting for her at the door with a smile. She once again sprints and throws her arms around him, kissing him hard.

“Missed you” she says softly, tangling her hands on his hair and making him laugh. 

“Fuck, this is good” he holds her by her hips and kisses her back “Is soo good to have you”

They smile to eche other and get inside, were Jason waits for them on the couch, cleaning his guns. When he looks up, automatically he drops his things on the table and waits for her next move. Y/N doesn’t think at all, throws herself at his lap and kisses him with the same want that she kissed Roy.

“Missed you” she tells him and smiles. Jason finally feels complete.

They walk around the promise from earlier. They’ve showered and are in pajamas, just waiting to see who makes the first move. They are in the main bedroom watching a movie and Jason can’t wait anymore.

He kisses her, pressing her body against the mattress and enjoying her little surprised sound. His hands roam her body and he feels like a teenager that never had sex before; He needs her, he needs Roy.

When he feels Roys hands on him, he completely melts; Roy grabs him by the back of his neck and breaks their kiss, just to turn Jason’s head towards his and kiss the brunette with want. This time, Y/N doesn’t look away, she stares and whimpers, loving the view. 

Roy turns to her and kisses her as well, loving the contrast between kissing her pliant mouth and kissing Jason’s demanding one. 

They kiss and touch each other, moaning and whispering praises to each other. Y/N feels her skin on fire every time they kiss her or when she touches them. Jason practically reaps her shirt off and he leans, kissing her right breast with want. He kisses, licks and bites softly, adoring the feeling of her on his mouth. Roy moans and goes for her other breast, making her scream with pleasure, her body not used to having so much attention at the same time. 

They meet in the middle of her skin and kiss, making wet sounds that drives her crazy. 

They move around and undress, kissing more and more. Wandering hands exploring new places.

Roy’s fingers find her clit and he smiles, playing with the bundle of nerves with expertise. Against Jason's lips, she moans, stopping her movements on his cock. Jason twists her hair in his fingers and clicks his tongue at her, and she can’t stop thinking how hot he looks right now.

“Don’t stop, sweets, or Roy won’t let you come” she whines but moves her hand again, eliciting a broken moan from Jason. He closes his eyes, lost in the feeling.

Roy kisses him and he feels like he could die again and this time he would die happy.

Jason moves away from them, making both whine in reprimand. But he pushes Y/N back into the mattress and grabs Roy to go down with him. Laying in their bellies, they settle between her legs and smile to each other, eating her out together. 

She moans loudly, not expecting this but loving it anyway. She feels like her soul might just leave her body when Jason puts a finger inside her, his tongue on her clit alongside Roy’s. 

Her vision blurs and she can’t hear anything when her orgasm hits her, making her body spasm. Both men smile, eating her out with more vigor and Jason’s finger moving faster. She grabs their hairs and tries to move them out, eventually they do, kissing her body and taking turns kissing her.

“I want to feel you” she says, mind in a haze, “both of you”

“At the same time, pookie?” She agrees, not thinking much about Roy’s question but she knows she wants them.

Now;

They move around until she is sitting on Jason’s lap, kissing his neck and caressing his skin, “Fuck me, Jace, please” she bags and he groans, not being able to deny her. So he moves his cock until he is pushing inside of her, their bodies connecting perfectly. 

He fucks her in a slow pace, letting her get used to and when she starts to moan more Roy moves, grabbing her asscheeks and moving them from his line of vision, opening more of her legs, showing all of her to him. He growls, watching Jason’s cock move in and out of their girl. 

“Ready, sweets? Roy is going to push inside” Jason says and she nods, wanting to feel full, full of them, of her men. Roy fists his cock and Jason stops his movements, letting Roy push inside her pussy.

She whines, hides her face on Jason’s chest and wiggles a little. “Fuck, pookie, don’t move yet” Roy groans and pushes inside more, until they are both inside of her pussy, feeling her and each other.

“Fuck” Jason growls, leaving marks of his hand on her thighs. Roy nods, agreeing with the feeling but not being able to form coherent words.

“Move, please” she bags in a broken voice, trying to move her hips up and down but not being able to.

They start moving, when one pushes inside the other pushes out and they fall into a delicious rhythm, where soon they are coming. Panting and moaning, Y/N comes and gets jelly, Jason comes soon after and so does Roy.

They move around again, but this time to cuddle. 

After a while, Roy says: “I hope this means you are our girlfriend now”

Y/N laughs, not believing his audacity; “Not even going to ask me out?”

Jason kisses the crown of her hair and smiles, just to ask in a sarcastic voice “want to go out on a date with us?”

“Yes” she doesn’t even need to think, and she only asked for the date to pick on them.

“Good but you must know that after the date, you are our girlfriend” Roy says, hugin her closer to his body and moving his hands to rest on Jason’s hips.

They go out a week later. Two months in, they are officially dating because Y/N made them ask and one year forward, they are marrying each other in Bruce’s garden. 

[eightstarr]

baby — abby anderson.

summary: you're on patrol with abby and you make her squirt for the first time. you don't mean to make a habit out of distracting her, but in your defense, it's hard to focus on anything else when she looks so pretty all serious and focused on keeping you safe! and you are only so strong!

notes: i don't ever really write smut and it for sure shows but anyway here it is! what no one asked for! yet again! also excuse the surprising amount of feelings that are in this considering it's technically supposed to be porn? it wouldn't be me if someone didn't say i love you at least once tho

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・。.・゜✧・. ────

"Do you have a danger kink or something?" Abby asks, trying to sound cool, but her breathing's a little too staggered for that. You've got her backed up against a counter in a random kitchen of a lonesome, old house.

You smooth your tongue over her pulse and feel her shudder, your hands sneaking under her loose shirt to cup her waist, fingers squeezing adoringly. "Can't I have some fun with my girl?"

"Yeah, but—" Abby cuts herself off with a moan that's almost embarrassing considering how little you're touching her. "You did this last time, too. It's like you want to get caught."

"Caught by who?" You scoff, lifting your head to look at her, nodding once as a silent way to say up. She abides without thinking, her palms against the counter as she pushes herself up to sit on top of it. You're needy enough that you don't bother teasing, no 'good girl', no 'what would your soldiers think if they saw you be so obedient?'. You slot yourself between her thighs and continue your assault on her neck, fingers brushing over chest. "There's no one here, baby."

Baby is perhaps your biggest tell. You call her baby when she's been away for too long, when you've had a long day and show up at her door unannounced, in the morning when you've woken up from a dream that left you aching that you refuse to share the details of no matter how much she asks. 'Baby' means you're desperate. And 'baby' makes Abby pull you closer, because nothing makes her need you more than you being desperate for her.

She lifts herself up enough to let you pull her cargo pants and boxers off in one motion, and her heart skips a beat as you sink to your knees, guiding her legs over your shoulders. She used to fret about that, fret about a lot of things— but the admittedly ridiculous thought of accidentally squeezing you to death was up there. You'd made the stupid joke, as anyone would, at least I'd die happy. But when that didn't quite work besides earning a roll of her eyes and a slight smirk to her lips, you'd simply gotten back to work on making her cum on your mouth until she had no choice but to close her legs around you. And when she did, the movement mindless and needy, you groaned and left loving fingerprints on her thighs enough to reassure her that you liked it. Loved it. You loved a lot of things that Abby used to be insecure about.

The point is, she shouldn't be shocked to see you get down on your knees. It's not an entirely unfamiliar sight anymore, you've made sure of that. But even on the first time you fucked, with all the eagerness and want and sense of overdue of your affections, Abby doesn't think she saw you quite this ravenous.

It's like you're drunk on it, like you didn't have her in a way not too different from this just a mere two days ago. You eat her like you're fucking starving. Not pulling away to breathe, your nose brushing against her clit just right, moaning every time she bucks her hips or pulls your hair.

When Abby cums, she feels it in her chest. It sinks on top of her, a lovely heaviness, and then drops off of her all together and leaves her weightless. When you don't stop, she breathes out a chuckle that turns into a broken moan and buries her fingers back in your hair, half expecting you to pull away still. But time passes, drags on and speeds away much too fast all at once, and you don't.

She's saying your name, she thinks, or a sound as close to it as her mind will allow her to formulate. Abby knows she's loud by the way her noises are echoing through the empty room, mocking her. Before she can feel embarrassed by it, as if you can read her mind as easily as anything else, you drag your mouth down and fuck into her with your tongue in a way that she didn't know could feel so good before she met you. As quickly as it came, the shame is gone. Her lips part and her sounds grow louder still, spilling out of her carelessly. You want to reward her, you think somewhere in the back of your mind, want her to know how much you love it. It's a privilege to make Abby Anderson a mess, and it always makes you lightheaded with need.

You wrap your mouth around her clit and suck, and Abby lets go of your head for once to grab onto the counter and make a lame attempt to keep herself still, her knuckles white.

The pressure building in her low abdomen is familiar, but then your hand comes to lay flat against the exact spot and something about the weight of it makes the feeling twist into something different.

Abby gasps quick breaths, her eyebrows furrowed in vague confusion and enough pleasure to drown it out and soothe the meaningless pain of bumping her head back against the wall.

"I'm gonna cum," she warns, barely legible. And it's fine, she thinks, it's just like every other time. But then she feels it start to unravel, finally, and it's the same but also not at all. "Fuck, wait, I think— fuck!" she's panting, shaking and forcing her gaze to refocus just to watch the way your eyes fall closed, the way your eyebrows furrow. You moan against her and the sound is loud even while suffocated, even though you've somehow managed to push your face closer to her, press your tongue deeper. Abby feels it gush out of her and it's nothing like anything she's felt before, so good and so much and she doesn't want it to ever end, even as she blabbers, "Oh my God. Oh my fucking God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

You don't seem to hear her, hungrier than she's ever seen you— you look fucking possessed. You pull back and the sight of you is dizzying, embarrassing, and it's the only thing Abby wants to look at for the rest of her life. Your lips are glistening, yes, but so is your chin, your cheeks, her cum dripping down your neck. Your eyes are dark, more pupils than anything else, and they swallow her whole. You haven't pulled back too far, your breath still hot against her, but it's enough that you can replace your mouth with your fingers and rub on her clit. What's left in her comes out in soft spurtz, dripping onto the floor, and you couldn't tear your eyes away if you tried.

But Abby doesn't know that, doesn't know what you're thinking at all. You're surprised, but is it in a bad way? It must be. Are you disgusted? You're so covered in her that it feels like you'll never be able to wash it off, and Abby can't read your mind like you do hers, so she doesn't know that the thought thrills you, that your heart is fucking pounding in your chest, that your underwear is utterly and completely fucking ruined. You lick your lips and swipe your chin with the back of your hand, absentminded. Abby's thinking, begging, say something.

"Holy fuck," is all you can manage, a quiet mutter, breathless. Your fingers haven't stopped rubbing, but a whine and an especially forceful quiver of her legs makes you blink and you stop like you've just come out of a trance, your hand moving instantly to soothe up and down her thigh.

"I'm sorry," Abby repeats, and then you look at her face like you've just remembered it's there.

Look up at her like she's fucking crazy, like she's grown a second head, mumbling, "What?"

"I didn't— I tried to warn you," she says, even though she doesn't know that she could've. It felt so foreign, she wouldn't have known how to explain it, really.

You lower her trembling thighs from your shoulders carefully, not before pressing a kiss against each one, and then you stand up. Abby wonders if this is where you'll tell her you didn't like that, where you'll help her put her clothes back on and then you'll promise each other to never speak of it again. Instead, your eyes grow impossibly gentle, impossibly loving, and you tuck yourself closer between her legs. The hem of your jeans brushes against her core and she gasps, but doesn't move away. "Baby," you call softly, pecking her lips. "Has this never happened to you before?"

Abby feels a little like she's suffocating, the breeze coming in through the window you'd opened when you first came in not enough to soothe her anymore. But you brush your knuckles over the faint scar on her cheekbone and her shoulders grow limp, her body relaxing except for where she's shaking— fuck, she is still fucking shaking. She remembers your question and shakes her head.

You don't show her how embarrassingly proud that makes you, that you made that happen before anyone else did, because it's not the time. You tuck the feeling in your pocket for later and hum, barely resisting the urge to kiss her, to get back on your knees until they're bruised and make her cum in whatever form she'll give you all over again. "Did it feel good?" You ask, not mocking, but curious.

If she wasn't so embarrassed, Abby would've laughed. It is very possible, and the thought does nothing to ease her shame, that nothing has ever felt so good. But admitting that feels like too much, so instead she whispers, "Yeah."

You smile, happy, genuinely relieved. "Then what are you saying sorry for?" You ask, kissing her again before you can help it. "That's my fucking job. I want you to feel good."

The words alleviate like water to a small fire, and Abby feels silly for having forgotten that it's you who she's with. She's had the thought before, but it suddenly becomes more present than ever, practically breathing down her neck— that she wants to keep you forever. Keep is maybe a bad word for it. She wants to be around you forever, for as long as you'll let her, wants to move into your shitty apartment and make you breakfast and sleep every night in your cropped shirts that fit slightly too tight and make her look ridiculous. She ought to say she loves you more often, she thinks. You say it nearly every time you see her now, like the words have been bubbling inside you for too long and now they can't be kept away. It's a fairly fresh relationship, but the feelings are ancient for both of you, and it shows.

"I love you," Abby sighs, and presses her lips against yours before you can say it back. It's sloppy, she's barely starting to come down from her high, but you don't complain. You kiss her with vigor, like you're trying to spell it out with your tongue, I love you. When you pull apart, her eyes fall from your eyes to your chest and she winces, eyes squeezing shut as her forehead falls on your shoulder.

"What?" You ask, a hand coming to cradle the back of her head immediately, without thought.

"Your shirt," she mumbles against you. You glance down and let out a soft oh. The white fabric of your tank top is soaked, mostly near the neckline, sticking to your skin. You hadn't noticed. Abby lifts her head to look at you, freckled face flushed red, so pretty that you forget about the mess she made of you all over again. "You have to change. We can't go back with you looking like that," she says— or begs, more like.

"I didn't bring anything else with me," you tell her, humming appreciatively as you look back down at your chest, grinning. "Besides, this is my favorite shirt now."

Abby groans, the kind of whiney, timid sound that you could've never imagined her making before you become her girlfriend. The kind of sound that makes you weak in the fucking knees, needy and cotton-mouthed. "It's not funny," she hides her face in her hands and huffs, "'S embarrassing."

You're chuckling, but biting into your lip to stifle it when she lowers her head further down, chin against her chest. With careful touch, you wrap your fingers around her wrists and guide her hands away from her face, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Her skin is hot beneath your lips, and you hum at the feeling of it. She's usually so cold, your Abby, freezing fingers sneaking under your shirt at night and making you shudder. It's a pleasure to make her warm, an honor to see her shy. You love her so much it tugs at you, a constant reminder.

"You're a dream, Abby. Fucking perfect," you say, as clearly as you can while dragging your lips down her neck. She's the hottest thing you've ever laid eyes on, so beautiful that sometimes you can't sleep, too excited that she's there next to you to ever close your eyes. And you need her to know, but you're not really one with words, so all that comes out is, "Nearly made me cum in my fucking pants, you know that?"

Abby moans. Her breath gets caught in her throat as you suck marks into her neck and she finds that she couldn't care less right now, about the evidence that'll be left on her skin or your stupid wet shirt. She guides your face up with a hand on the back of your neck, and kisses her flavor off your lips until she can't anymore, until her lungs burn and her lips tingle. Your voice echoes in her head. Nearly made me cum in my fucking pants. Nearly, she thinks. That doesn't sound very fair.

Thick fingers make quick work of your zipper, trailing over your lower tummy and sneaking under your underwear. She's a little fast, but you've never minded. Sometimes she'll notice and force herself to slow down, to savor, but most of the time her mind doesn't let her catch up to it. Like now. She can't worry about looking clumsy or overly-enthusiastic, because she just needs to feel you. Because she wants to check that you weren't lying, that she could've made you cum without ever touching you— and it's there, the overwhelming fucking truth of it soaking her hand. You gasp at the contact, and Abby's thighs squeeze you in place, as if you'd ever leave. "Jesus Christ," she pants. She finds herself saying it a lot lately. Jesus Christ. Oh my fucking God. Calling upon figures she doesn't believe in, delusional enough to think for a second that they'll bring some kind of comfort, release her of her sins.

You're so wet that it doesn't take more than a minute for her confidence to slowly grow back, so wet that it doesn't take more than two to make you cum. It's the fastest she's ever seen you fall apart, and it wouldn't be Abby if her immediate thought (right after that was so fucking hot) wasn't bet I can make it quicker. Her ego fizzles in her chest, warm and euphoric. Abby thinks she doesn't remember the last time she felt as proud about something as she does every time she makes you feel good. Isaac's occasional pat on her shoulder and mutter of 'good job' is laughable in comparison, as is the high of working herself till she's covered head to toe in sweat at the gym, as is everything else.

It might be the honeymoon phase the movies talk about. You slowly catch your breath and raise your head from her shoulder to look at her with the same adoration as you did when she kissed you for the first time, and Abby has a hard time believing that the feeling will ever go away. Movies get a lot of things wrong, anyway.

She's walking slower than usual on your way back home, her steps sluggish, and you're sweet enough to only make fun of her for it a little bit. One comment here and there, earning a scoff when you lean closer and offer to carry her bride style, a badly stifled laugh when you hum thoughtfully and wonder out loud about what Owen must be doing right now.

Her fingers are interlaced with yours and normally she would've let go by now, a little sheepish to show that much vulnerability in front of the people who are supposed to respect her, but the thought doesn't even cross her mind. You crack another stupid joke and she giggles like she did when she was a kid, silly and sweet, tugging your hand to her lips to kiss the back of it.

Manny looks you up and down as soon as you cross the gates, dark eyebrows raised. "The fuck happened to you?" He asks. You look at him with a confused frown and wait for him to clarify, "You're wet."

Abby's stiff as a board where she stands next to you, her quick blinking the only evidence that she hasn't actually been frozen in place by some kind of magic spell.

You're much more casual. "It's fucking hot. I poured some water on myself to cool off."

Manny hums. He's seen you do it before, maybe that's why he doesn't question it. He does note, though, the suspicious way in which Abby walks silently and swiftly past him with her eyes pointedly on the floor. Her hand is tight around yours still, and you follow because— well, of course you do.

[captainmera]

Your recent art post (wonderful art btw!) raised a question for me: how are Caleb's mental health issues different in the modern day? Does he still have broadly the same hangups, or do they have significant differences? (That AU summary was a joy to read!) Love your writings, both prose and analysis!

Broadly the same hang-ups, yes. :3

But some additions or contextual changes!

cw: mental health, suicidal ideation, self-destruction.

Though in the modern AU, he's a bit more tormented over being in the closet as a bisexual guy, since it's a lot more focus on that sort of "sin" in our modern time.

Back in the 1660s, it was a straight-up crime you'd get hanged for, sure.. But! People didn't immediately assume it. Men could be openly affectionate and nobody thought it was strange, because it simply wasn't in the forefront of suspicion. Even extremely flamboyant and effeminate men wouldn't even be suspected, especially if they had a wife. It would just be a... personality. Of a less masculine sort. Maybe become the brunt of teasing, but still; no crime, no case.

it was actually a very difficult thing to prove without a reliable eyewitness or caught-in-the-act of buggery.

Because of our political atmosphere today, men being affectionate towards each other is waaaaay more scrutinized. And it would thus affect him much more.

That aside though!

He would have access to medication, now. Though not always have the money to pay for it. He could also get his GAD and seasonal depression diagnosed, not that it would do a huge difference.

Another difference is that he's much less social in the modern AU. He's an extrovert who loves people, but isolates himself as a way to minimize the impact of his death.

Speaking of death - he has an active suicide plan in modern day, while in the 1660s, he's only fantasizing about it most of the time. (except the time when he did try to hang himself in ttocw)

Caleb isn't doing well, and can't always emotionally connect with Philip. He's tired. And the brothers have this unsaid thing between them were.. They don't pry into each other's private lives.

Caleb don't follow Philip on all his social media (just one, photogram), and respects Philip's privacy. This gives him the blanket of being able to tell Philip not to pry on him either, or ask questions.

Only causing the divide to broaden between them.

Caleb consciously make an effort not to tell Philip anything. Even when Philip straight up asks. Caleb shrugs, ignores, and leaves the conversation in silence. In Caleb's mind, he's keeping Philip safe from him.

Philip is too young to remember their mother, or what she was like. But she used Caleb as her entire emotional support system. He took care of her, and the home, and of Philip, even as a kid. And Caleb doesn't want to repeat the cycle - so he completely avoids it all together.

Only making Philip feel like a bother.

They're both grieving their parents in different ways. And they never talk about it. Mainly because Caleb just won't open the lid. And there's nobody else for Pip to turn to.

Until Evelyn.

Who flicks the switch in the Wittebane house and illuminates the situation.

Caleb has grown up believing that if he's vulnerable, or asks for help, he's a burden and a failure. Tie that in with the church giving him both praise and pressure to be a reliable hetero traditional man, too.

Most of his friends from school moved away, made careers, got married - you know, the typical pipeline. And lost touch with most, or can't find the time. And when you say no enough times, people stop asking to hang out.

Caleb never got to even begin the pipeline. He had to work after school, he flunked high school because he missed classes and didn't score high. He skipped out on trying out the baseball team, that could've helped him out, because Philip was sick, and he always chose his brother first.

He gave up on looking for opportunities, or having dreams. His only real social support came from the church.

Caleb is a lot more isolated in the modern AU. He has more resources, sure. But he's got nobody he feels safe with.

In 1660s, Caleb is terrified of horses. In modern AU, he's scared of sitting in a car.

They have a car, and it's remaining under a tarp on their driveway. He's only keeping it in case Philip wants to learn to drive someday. But although he himself can drive, he can't do it.

He will look at the car from his bedroom window, and to him, it's just a ghost made of metal.

Caleb listens to audiobooks people at church gives him, which aren't always helpful. Rarely so. Most just sound like conversion therapy to cover most sins.

Caleb doesn't seek out things he enjoys because he feels broken and unrepairable, and he's afraid of people will find out. He rather be remembered as the person they think he is.

And then there's Evelyn. Cartwheeling through his life like a cloud of rainbows. And she made him laugh, a real laugh. The kind that bubbles. :3

And he forgets he has a suicide plan when she's around. He feels like himself, and he doesn't hate who he is.

Perhaps because Evelyn is so unapologetically herself, he just felt compelled to do the same.

She doesn't cure his mental health. That's not how it works. But when someone makes you feel like a real person again, it sure does help.

[mossyeyeballs]

TW: mentions of pretty much everything terrible. 🍇, trafficking, all of the above.

CLASS OF 09 RANT, FLIP SIDE SPOILERS

Ok not my usual post (I’ve posted twice ik but shush) but what the freak was the flip side??….. I was a huge fan of class of 09 + the re up but this game was so.. what’s the word….. dog shit? Even if we ignore half of the game being about the creators weird foot fetish, the sl@ve ending was so unnecessary. I feel like the only thing in that route that was worth writing was the issue in retail work and that wasn’t even the star focus, let alone side focus. The main plot of that route was the counselor having some weird illegal 🌽 warehouse, jecka finding it, and then him blackmailing her into human 🚙 🚙 ing?

The only ending I thought was necessary IF THAT was when Jecka found Nicole after the sue a side ending from re up. I thought it did a decent job at talking about sue a side victims, and how nobody really cares about them until it’s too late, And even then they only care for a week or so and then move on.

But the Jeffery dying one was the most out of place in my opinion (unfortunately it beats the foot ending.) For starters, Nicole was really out of character imo, like yeah she’s talked about wishing Jeffery was dead before, but her actually killing him just out of boredom is so odd. Her entire character is “I don’t put effort into anything unless it benefits me.” Killing Jeffrey was not only ALOT of effort, but she gained absolutely nothing. On top of that, saying it’s different than doing. Like how she talked about wishing her mom was dead, but then when she had a heart attack, she panicked. Plus, she PLANNED on making Jecka take some of the blame on his death, which she stated in past games she wouldn’t do. She literally never put Jecka in harms way, let alone jail if it didn’t also benefit them both. But this didn’t, she just did it to do it.

While we’re talking about Nicole being out of character, I feel it valid to mention her and Jeckas dad. For obvious (and gross) reasons, I won’t be detailing this, but her doing that to Jecka wasn’t fully out of character, but still odd. Like I mentioned earlier, Nicole never really did anything to spite Nicole, so I find it odd that she did in this game. You could blame it on “oh she’s a sociopath she doesn’t care.” But I don’t think that’s inherently true. Yeah, I guess it’s canon she’s a sociopath, but in that case they do a bad job at consistency. She’s shown in both games 1 and 2 caring about people she’s close with, whether it’s Jecka, her mom, or even Emily in one segment. So I find it completely random that she did this to Jecka over something as small as not sharing how she got into foot work. Jeckas done much worse stuff to Nicole, and Nicole just didn’t care because they were friends, or didn’t feel the need to put effort into doing something if she did care. So yeah, Nicole basically screwing Jeckas dad over something so little felt out of character.

One of the few things that bothered me the least, but I feel the need to mention was the foot work stuff. Not because it was out of character, i fear I’ve seen worse stuff mentioned in that game. But I guess the way it was portrayed as less of a story plot and more of the creator trying to live out his fantasies. He himself has stated Jeffrey is basically a self insert, so the whole being sexually obsessed with Jecka and her feet felt REALLY weird. Compared to Nicole’s my space favor thing, this just felt dirty. For comparison. Both Jecka and Nicole took up sex work to keep a home life or lackthereof, they both got money from strangers to do sexual things, and they both hated doing it. But why did Jeckas feel so much more personal and gross? Because the actual sex work was shown. In graphic detail. And all of Jeffrey’s (the creators) personal thoughts were stated with no backlash. Jeffery literally asked Jecka if she would 🍒feed him, and he was excused. When Nicole was asked the same hing from the same guy, he was insulted, yelled at, even told to leave.

So, creepy creator who’s obsessed with his barely legal characters, Jecka being sold to 🚙 🚙ing agaisnt her will, Jeffrey being murdered for no reason other than a giggle or two from his haters, Jecka accidentally killing Ari cause she was drunk driving, feet fan service, and fan service in general aside, the game is left only with the regular drug and alcohol abusage we always see. which in the game that was advertised as a new experience felt really stale and honestly left me bored. The ONE SINGULAR time during this game that I giggled was when the hat man appeared in the Ari route.

If you’ve fully ignored everything I said in this, maybe didn’t care, or didn’t even read it. Id just like to mention for everyone that the creator of this game said that anybody who disliked him, his games, his writing, or his humor were kid diddlers. In full seriousness. So yeah, no shock this game was bad, but I guess I shouldn’t have expected better from someone who thinks his haters are all child likers. All this being said, I enjoyed class of 09, and the re up. I’m hoping the anime episode that comes out soon with be a decent save. all of THAT being said, I don’t support this creator. I don’t support his actions, I think he’s a shitty person who’s made some shitty jokes, but made some not so shitty games that I decently enjoyed. I also haven’t bought them, so none of my money has gone towards him or his projects. I in NO WAY support him. Thanks for reading.

Feel free to comment down some of your own opinions if you feel so inclined, I’m interested in what everyone else thought of this game :))

[ryuzakemo128]

Grim Reaper

Pairing: (Possibly?) Poly Team 141 x Female Reader / Female Reader x Her mental health

Content Warning: Mental Issues touched upon. Swearing.

Note: Your code names are either Grim Reader or Iron Maiden.

Words: 2502

Masterlist - Prequel - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

Supernatural AU - Poem

Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary:

If you can’t be perfect at something, why bother trying?

If you can’t get it right the first time, why bother?

What would they do if you had forcibly removed yourself from the equation? Would they notice that you were gone? Would they care? You went numb because of your parents. The lack of care and the added pressure to remain at the top.

"Do me a favour and just leave me alone." You said. Telling them both to go away. To leave you alone. They had each other and you were alone. Death seemed better than whatever mess awaited you back home. You have worked alone for the longest time. You require no back up. Not only that, but you don't need any pity or assistance. Death is reward in a sea of endless nightmares.

“It's not like you can stop me.” You told him. Eyes narrowing at him. Picking up your duffle bag to head out the door. “Do me favour a leave me alone.”

If you can’t be perfect at something, why bother trying?

If you can’t get it right the first time, why bother?

‘Do me a favour and go back to ignoring me. It’s what you’re good for.’ You thought.

‘Let’s get going morons. I don’t have the patience to deal with my shit and yours. Lets go already’ you think during times where people just take too long.

‘It’s war. Stop celebrating it like it’s a fucking football match and go back to work, you ignorant fucks.’ You pondered, looking over the soldiers celebrating too loudly.

‘My feelings are not yours to discuss. I will not speak endless garbage.’ You continued to glare at team 141 from afar. ‘They talk too much. Talking more doesn’t make you smarter. Nor does it make you look smarter, either.’

You have an interest in MMA, Kickboxing, axe throwing and Electrical Engineering. Your still undertaking your pathway into Electrical Engineering in different ways like the mask you wear on your face. Covering it entirely. Leaving nothing to the naked eye.

You have a high pain tolerance. An excellent one-track focus. Almost unnerving, eery according to your superiors.

You are your superior’s grim reaper as your lone wolf behaviour serves them so well. They don’t want anyone else to have you. Ever.

Thus, you have no intention of bonding with them. Once the mission is over. You intend to disappear once they turn around long enough to let you disappear.

‘Imagine looking like that.’ You heard about you. You managed to overhearing from your parent’s mouths, your bullies and the people you thought were your friends. Why bother giving someone else that chance to do it all over again when all they’ll do is leave you broken.

Your face staring back at you in the mirror. The only reason you got into the military is because of the fact that you wouldn’t be able to afford to fix your teeth otherwise. It was mostly a health reason rather than because you were so keen on ‘serving’.

All of your snacks are stored inside of a body bag to prevent people from stealing them from you. It made you feel safe and have a way to eat something without relying on other people. Even while you were growing up.

Touching your face, neck or shoulders are a big no, no for you. “Get the fuck away. Next time you do that shit, I’m hitting you in the face.” You said instinctively as a warning to get them away from you.

“Bury me in a cardboard box on the side of a highway or some shit. I don’t care.” You said once. You were annoyed and overstimulated from the lights, sounds and the combination onslaught of senses. You didn’t want more. You wanted less. You wanted to stop feeling like you were going to choke yourself or someone else.

All because you wore the evil socks that day and everything went down hill fast from there.

"Not here." You said, hoping the knock on your door would disappear as you were meditating.

You were wrong. You were wrong in a way you wish you saw coming.

The knock persisted. It grew louder, more insistent. It was as if the very wood of the door was begging for your attention. You knew it was Captain Price. His heavy footsteps and distinct knocking pattern had become all too familiar over the weeks. With a sigh, you opened the door to reveal the stern man with the unlit cigar hanging from his lips.

'God. I should have taken the drive into the lake this afternoon if I knew I was going to be bothered again.' you thought.

Captain Price looked at you with a gaze that could cut through steel. "We have a mission, Grim. Get dressed, you're coming with us." His voice was gruff, the words cutting through the silence of your room like a knife.

"Pretty sure you have all the help you need this time Captain." you snorted.

Price just stared at you. That unlit cigar doing nothing to hide the frustration in his eyes. He knew you didn’t care for the camaraderie of the squad, but that didn’t change the mission. “It’s a solo job, Grim. You’re our best shot at this. No one else can go in there and come out without raising suspicion.”

'Great. This means more time I need to get rid of excess aggression. I want to fucking kill myself.' you thought as you got ready.

You grabbed your gear, the same gear that had seen more blood than most people had in their lives. It was a grim reminder of your purpose. You were the weapon of choice for when things got too messy for the regular soldiers. The government’s way of keeping their hands clean.

The mission briefing was short and to the point. Infiltrate a heavily guarded compound, extract the intel, and eliminate the target. A simple task for anyone else, but for you, it was just another Tuesday. The room was filled with tension as the team around you studied the layout, whispering strategies and potential escape routes. You remained silent, eyes locked on the map, your mind already racing through the countless scenarios that could unfold.

Your mantra, 'I don't need you. Just as you don't need me.' echoed in your mind as you geared up. You didn't bother with the usual banter or good lucks that filled the air before a mission. They were just words. Empty, hollow promises of friendship and camaraderie that you knew would crumble under the weight of reality. You were the Grim Reaper, not their buddy. 'I am what you see when death is on the table.'

"I tolerate you. I don't intend to do more Captain." You said once, your voice as cold as the Siberian night you once fought in. You had earned your name, Grim Reaper, not just from your silent and deadly tactics, but from the emotional vacuum you carried with you. It was like speaking to a wall, but they had come to accept it.

Though the amount of aggression you had pent-up was enough to fuel a small war, you knew that you had to keep it in check. You were confronted about it, though for the life of you, you had no idea why they cared. You were heading to the gym to get rid of the excess aggression from your system.

You walked into the gym to just get to rid of it. If it was particularly traumatising, she won't speak to anyone on the way there. The sound of metal clanging and the rhythmic thump of combat boots on the floor echoed through the space as you approached the boxing ring. It was a cage match in here, but not the kind that involved a referee or an audience. Just you and your inner demons. You slammed your duffle bag down on the bench, the thud resonating in the room as you began to unpack your gear.

One such instance was today, and you were interrupted, "Ask someone else." you said and continued on your way. "Ask Ghost to help. I'm sure he's far more willing for you." You had enough pent-up to fuel a small generator.

He didn't budge, didn't move and he certainly had no intention of taking his eyes off of you. You felt like a caged animal, and Price knew it. He was the kind of man that knew when to push and when to pull. His hand rested on the doorframe, his knuckles white with the effort of holding himself back. You knew he had more to say, but he remained silent, waiting for your next move.

You came back from the most recent mission and you didn't want to talk.

You had just gotten back from a mission that had gone sideways. The intel was solid, the target was eliminated, but the compound had been a veritable hornet's nest. Bullets had flown like rain, and you had danced through the storm like a specter. But even as you walked back into the base, the stench of gunpowder and death clung to you like a second skin. You could feel it in every step you took, every breath you drew.

The gym was empty, a rare luxury in this place. You climbed into the ring, the ropes groaning slightly as you took up your stance. The bag before you was your silent adversary, the only one who never talked back, never questioned your motives, never judged your scars. You threw a punch, feeling the impact resonate up your arm, the pain a sweet release. You had done this a hundred times before, but tonight it was different. Tonight, the bag felt like it was fighting back, each hit echoing the pain you felt inside.

Your sparring match made you look more like Iron maiden than Grim Reaper. Each punch and kick sent the bag swinging, the sound of impact a cathartic symphony in the empty gym. Sweat beaded on your forehead, mixing with the grime of the day’s battle. You were lost in the rhythm, the therapeutic dance of combat, until the sound of the gym door squeaking open broke your concentration.

You spun around, fists clenched, expecting an unwelcome interruption from one of the chattering squad members. But instead, you found yourself face to face with Captain Price. He leaned against the ropes of the ring, his eyes never leaving yours. He didn’t speak, just nodded slightly, acknowledging your presence without interrupting your solitude. He knew better than to approach you after a mission like that. The air was thick with unspoken words, a silent agreement that sometimes the best conversations were the ones never had.

He still remembers when you judo threw soap when he touched your shoulders. "Keep your hands to yourself."

You could see the look in his eyes, the concern and the curiosity. But you didn’t care. You didn’t need his pity or his sympathy. You were fine. You had to be fine. You had to be the one who could handle it all, because if you weren’t, who would they send instead? The weak? The inexperienced? No, they’d send you. And you’d die.

So you ignored him, turned back to the punching bag, and threw another hit. This one was harder than the last. The bag swung back and forth, the chains groaning with each impact. The sweat on your forehead trickled down your cheek, stinging your eyes. But you didn’t flinch. You never did. That was your job, to not flinch. To not feel. To be the one who did the dirty work while everyone else patted themselves on the back and told themselves they were heroes.

Price remained there, his eyes never leaving you. You could feel his gaze boring into your back, but you ignored it. You had to. You had to keep going, keep fighting, keep moving forward. It was the only way to survive in this world. The way to keep the darkness at bay. The way to keep from breaking down.

From them seeing you as the caged animal you are. Ghost only had to hold you back once, which even for him, remains to be rather difficult, it was to give you your anti-psychotic meds which you had no idea you had to take. Ghost said, "You're an unruly beast, aren't you? Hey, stop trying to bite me." You growled afterwards. You didn’t know how to handle kindness, so you lashed out. It was easier to push people away than to let them in, only to watch them leave when they realized what you truly were. A monster, bred for war.

Ghost called you a good girl and you grimaced instead of growling, taking the pill with a sip of water. "Thanks," you murmured, trying to sound sincere. But the word felt strange in your mouth, like a foreign tongue you hadn’t spoken in a long time. You didn’t know how to be good, not when all you knew was the taste of gunpowder and the feel of cold steel.

Ghost chuckled, at your reaction, "No need to thank me, Grim. We all got our battles to fight. Just remember, we're all in this together." His voice was soothing, a stark contrast to the brutal world outside the gym. For a moment, you felt a flicker of something akin to warmth. But it was fleeting, snuffed out by the cold reality of who and what you were. You nodded curtly, not trusting your voice to respond.

You slept without nightmares that night. Odd. Normally they were there.

The doctor's eyes widened slightly at your candidness, but he remained calm. "Grim, you can't keep going on like this. The mind can't handle this kind of stress indefinitely. It's not healthy."

You didn't say anything in response. The doctor 's words hung in the air, heavy and unwelcome. You didn't need a psych evaluation. You needed a mission, a target to focus on, something to keep the darkness at bay. To the doctor's surprise you allowed him to get closer. To him it was a sign of progress, to you it was just a way to get what you needed. He offered you a hand to help you up from under the table, and for a split second, you took it feeling like you were five again. Lost without your parents.

You were now on your way home. Even though you didn't want to.The doctor had convinced you, or rather, the fear of incompetency had convinced you.

You didn’t want to be seen as weak, as someone who couldn’t handle the pressure. So, you agreed to the leave, with the caveat that you’d be back as soon as it was over.

You packed your bags with the same precision you used for your missions, double-checking every item. The gym had become your sanctuary, a place where you could unleash your demons without consequence.

Now, you were being sent back to the real world, where those demons were born.

[silhouetteonpaper]

Who’s To Blame?

Summary: When you show up at the compound with severe injuries, there’s no guarantee if you’re going to pull through. Even worse than that, there’s no one to explain how you ended up in this situation in the first place. Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Yelena Belova x Reader WC: 2,301 Warnings: Blood loss, wounds, mentions of killing, possible character death but I don’t want to spoil things A/N: I am so happy with how this turned out, I apologize in advance for the angst <3

The deep night sky outside Natasha’s window makes her groan as she rolls over to check the time. 1:35 am, great. Exhaling, she swings herself out of bed, too restless to attempt even another hour of rest. Something feels off tonight, and it’s impeding her ability to get a good night’s sleep.

Instead of trying to close her eyes for the fifth time, she chooses to venture out into the compound’s kitchen to make some tea. It’s silent, almost eerie out in the hallway as the dark cast of nighttime has settled. She doesn’t bother to flick on the lights, the soft glow of the moon providing enough light as Natasha lets her hot mug of tea steep.

The quiet sound of shallow breathing makes her nearly drop the mug, her entire body turning around with haste to see who dares to intrude. To Natasha’s surprise, it’s not an intruder, but rather a familiar figure lying on the couch just across the room.

She approaches, quickly seeing that it’s you sprawled out on the cushions. But you're not all safe and snuggled up against the pillows, instead she spots the blood pooling around your abdomen.

“Hey,” Her hands make quick work of finding the source, the mug now left for the cold on the coffee table. Your eyes flutter open, but it’s obvious they won’t stay that way for long. “Stay with me, I need you to tell me what happened.”

Natasha applies pressure to your wound, a soft whimper escaping your lips. It’s the last bit of energy you can muster, your entire body feeling numb and lifeless. She uses her free hand to cup your cheek, her thumb running up and down in hopes the comfort will keep you conscious.

“I need help out here!” Natasha shouts, looking behind her for any sign of her team. Silence. “Shit, please!” Her volume increases as she eyes your pale skin under the moonlight.

Suddenly, a half-awake group of heroes runs out of their rooms, your eyes barely able to make out their blurry silhouettes. “Nat? What’s going on?” Bruce questions, quickly noticing your limp body on the couch.

“We need to get her to the med bay, while she still has a heartbeat preferably.” Natasha moves to carefully scoop you up, but not before Bruce calls for her to wait.

“There’s no way we can get her there without losing too much blood, I’ll be back in just a minute!” And just like that, the doctor is off running. Natasha furrows her brows and leans back in by your side.

“Please, stay with me. I’m right here.” She grabs your hand, and you’re able to offer the lightest squeeze. Still, it’s enough for the Widow, a small ounce of relief filling her as she realizes you’re not fully out of the game yet.

“Do you know how this happened?” Steve’s voice breaks her focus from you.

Nat shakes her head, attempting to wrack her brain for any possible inkling on how you’d land with a wound this deep. “She said something about a last minute mission earlier, but she didn’t make it sound like a big deal.”

Steve tilted his head in confusion. “Nat, there were no missions today… I would’ve signed off on it.” Natasha was left frozen, but there was no time to think on it any longer as Bruce sprinted over with a case full of supplies.

The Widow reluctantly moved to the side as he began working. The entire group is on edge as he begins to tediously stitch up the wound, excess blood continuing to pour out while Natasha attempts to keep pressure.

30 minutes and nearly 100 stitches later, you’re finally stable enough to be moved to the med bay. The slow mimicked beep of your heart rate fills the room as Natasha sits silently beside the bed. Bruce informed everyone on your current state, assuring them they shouldn’t keep their hopes up for a speedy recovery.

Regardless of your injuries, Natasha’s beside herself with worry without any idea of how this happened. The sun is beginning to peek over the city when Steve knocks on the door. “How’re you holding up?” He stands at the edge of your bed, opposite of Natasha.

“I’m fine,” She breathes. “I just… I can’t even imagine how she could’ve gotten a wound this bad.”

Steve crosses his arms as he scans your lifeless state. “Last minute mission, huh? Do you have any idea what she actually could’ve been doing?” There’s no response at first.

“I wish I did.” Natasha takes a deep breath, the weight of the situation starting to fill her with guilt. Is this her fault for not knowing your whereabouts?

“Don’t do that,” Steve breaks Nat out of her thoughts, getting a confused look as she brings her gaze to him. “Don’t blame yourself.”

She shakes her head once more. “Don’t tell me what to do.” He’s about to argue back, but is interrupted by the sudden blaring noise coming from your heart monitor. “Bruce!” She yells, watching as the flat blue line creates a steady horizon over the screen.

It all happens so fast. Bruce rushing in, beginning chest compressions. Natasha yelling over his shoulder while Steve tries to pull her away. All while the relentless sound of truth hits everyone at once. The beeping goes quiet.

So does Natasha, but only for a moment. “No, no, make it start beeping again. She’s not dead, make it start working!” She’s beginning to shout as she tries to reach for the lifeless vitals monitor.

“She’s gone Nat! She’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do to change that!” Steve tries to calm her down, ending up in a near fist fight with the Widow as her grief floods all at once. He pulls her to the wall, both sliding down it as she begins to sob.

Her thoughts are overwhelmed with flooding accusations; it’s all my fault, it should’ve been me. But one thing swirls her mind like a tornado, blowing away the blame as it can’t change the absolute truth. You’re dead. And no one knows why.

The beaming sun lands onto the table covered in papers, each white sheet filled to the brim with various logs and charts. Natasha’s at the head of it all, flipping through each record and scanning it thoroughly before doing the same to the next… and the next… and-

“Nat?” Steve stands in the doorway of the office, trying to hide his widened eyes at the sight before him. It’s only been a few days since your passing—and besides filling her time with your funeral planning, Natasha’s also been caught up in figuring out the cause. What got you the deathly wound in the first place?

She doesn’t even look up from her tedious task, the super soldier finally walking forward and seeing for himself what’s got her so focused. “Damn, you’ve got every single comms record, mission log, criminal activity report… Nat, I don’t think-“

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She interrupts, refusing to lift her eyes from the stack of papers she’s holding.

“Yeah, you’ve been saying that a lot these days,” Steve comments before sitting down across the table. “Look, if you want to find out what happened to her, I don’t think you’re going to find it here.”

Finally, Natasha’s gaze unsticks from the pages. “Are you saying you know something I don’t?” Her eyes nearly widened with desperation, the need to find out what happened to you tearing her apart.

Steve takes a deep breath, wondering if it’s a good idea to loop Natasha into another research frenzy. “Not necessarily. Her phone was found downtown this morning. I figured if anyone is going to look through it, it should be you.” He takes out the mobile phone from his pocket, placing it softly in the middle of her chaotic mess of papers.

Her breath catches, the sight of any remnant of you making her nearly start to cry again. She only manages to nod, slowly reaching out for the phone. Natasha takes a second to feel it in her hands, the same sleek shape reminding her of the numerous times you made her take your photo, or when you’d hand it over to show a cute video. The reminder of your consistent smiling expression, it made a tear finally break free from Natasha’s stoic hold.

Steve leaves her to it as she reluctantly powers it on. The sudden reveal of your lock screen image makes her question if she really wants to do this, a recent photo of you and her making silly faces burning into Natasha’s tender heart.

Typing in the passcode is like muscle memory. 3123. 3/1/23. The day you became an Avenger. As all of your apps and notifications load into place, there’s no turning back.

3 Unread Messages

Yelena Belova

Hey, did you do it?

Starting to get worried… did you make it back okay?

Okay, seriously, I’m freaking out.

“She’s in contact with your sister? Do you have any idea why?” Steve and Natasha sit around the living room, a narrowed down stack of mission logs now spread across the coffee table.

“No, my sister’s really good about being vague over text.” Natasha responds, scrolling through your text history with Yelena for the third time, her heart racing no matter how many times she’s seen it. Multiple messages about ‘completing’ something, ‘following through’, ‘making it back’, it was all so cryptic. And there’s only one way to try and find out what it means.

“I think I need to call Yelena.” Natasha deduces, sitting in silence for a moment as she thinks what this could lead to. She hasn’t spoken to her sister in a few years, but has heard inklings about her whereabouts. Working under a new branch, doing missions for anyone just to get by.

“Do you really think Yelena could’ve been involved in the cause of her death?” Steve questioned. Natasha shrugged unknowingly.

“At this rate, I’m not ruling it out.” Natasha discloses while pulling out her own phone. It takes a few seconds for her to find Yelena’s number, the phone ringing for quite a while before finally a familiar accent sounds.

“Natasha,” Yelena answers, a weary tone seeping through even with just her voice. “I think I know what this is about.”

“Well, I’m certainly not calling to ask for my sweater back.” Natasha comments, sitting in the uncomfortable silence that forms after.

“Please tell me she’s alive.” Yelena’s fully worried now as she realizes the only reason her sister could call had to pertain to the lack of your responses from the other week.

“She’s dead.” Natasha states bluntly. It’s easy to feel the guilt flooding over Yelena on the other end of the line. “What did you do to her?”

Yelena takes an offended breath. “Me! She was doing this for you!” More silence sits between both ends of the call, but this time it isn’t awkward—it’s accusatory.

“What do you mean, Yelena?” Natasha speaks slowly. “I need you to tell me everything you know.”

Natasha and Yelena unknowingly take a simultaneous deep breath. “She… she wanted to eliminate Veronika Lebedev.” The name makes Natasha shudder, just as you did the first time she told you about this target.

Veronika, one of the handful of people at the head of the Red Room that made Natasha’s past a living nightmare. She’d confided in you not long ago about her experience, and more specifically each encounter with the walking grim reaper known as Madam Lebedev.

It was at that moment, Natasha felt the worst dread of all. Not because she was reminded of all the horrid things that happened in the Red Room, but because she knew exactly what happened to you. You tried to eliminate one of the strongest forces Natasha’s faced.

“Nat?” Yelena pulls Natasha back into the present, her attention suddenly fixated on ending a certain perpetrator’s life. But suddenly, her mind is no longer preoccupied as her sister utters two powerful words. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You're not the one that killed my closest friend.” Natasha breathes.

“Because she came to me asking where to look, and I told her. I shouldn’t have, I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve known Vernonika wouldn’t hesitate to swing first.” Yelena voices, the sound of sniffling lacing her words. “What’re you going to do?”

Natasha thinks for a moment, all the possibilities swirling in her mind. She wants more than anything to kill Veronika, to avenge your reason for knocking on death’s door too early. But a part of her feels urged to just… leave it.

What would you say if Natasha offered to go kill her worst enemy in your stead? You probably wouldn’t be too happy about it, and that very same thought process is working it’s way through the Widow’s mind.

“I think I need to bury my friend.” Natasha decides, the lingering guilt leaving her to get you safe and at peace as soon as possible. That’s her real priority, not killing someone, not avenging, not saving the world, but making sure her best friend can rest easy.

“I think that’s best.” Yelena agrees, the two of them sitting in a more comfortable silence now. “Hey, Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I come to the funeral?” Yelena asks softly. Natasha chuckles slightly, the memory of you and the blonde meeting for the first time replaying in her mind. Endless laughter, constant jokes, and a bond that could never be broken. The same bond Natasha has with you that no one can deny, not even a sister. So who is she to deny Yelena that?

Natasha finally comes to an answer. “I think she’d love that.”

[sant-riley]

[Task force 141 + others with Gen z!reader] [pt3]

A/N: Some of these you /may/ have seen on tiktok, that is me who posted them on tiktok. I am green haired bitch so no I didn't steal anything LMAO. I hope these live up to yalls expectations.

The last two of these my lovely friend gave me inspiration for <3 @frogchiro

Warnings: She/her pronouns swearing, age gaps, tiktok memes (like always lmk if I miss something!)

~

You steal Prices hat on numerous occasions bc its a fashion abomination and you refuse to let this man wear it around you. You hide around base as frequently as you can.

Jokes on you though bc he will literally wait til it's your birthday and buy you a matching one and will laugh at your scream of disgust.

Gaz one ups him by gifting you a matching hat as well, putting it on your head as he flicks the brim.

"Thanks Gaz! I love it!

"And not mine?"

"You're on thin ice, old man."

Price gets gifted a set from manscaped by the guys as a gag gift. He uses it for his beard bc he never bothered to look into why everyone was laughing around him.

Price takes your phone when you try and show him memes, squinting hard as fuck like a dad 💀

Soap, if yall have the time off takes you to scottish football games and it's a whole thing. You sitting there while he gets drunk out of his fucking mind, hollering and whooping and you're there trying to sink into your seat.

Chances are someone's gonna shove you and you're gonna trip and fall bc everyone's so amped up and Soap threatens to beat the shit out of them. It's a miracle y'all don't get kicked out 💀

If you have tattoos, Soap is the first one to take a marker set and color them in and adding his own additions. If you were ever to get them actually tattooed, he would tear up and pretend he isn't emotional about it.

"You like me that much Bonnie?"

He would get something of you too, so it evens out. This also makes Ghost in turn get a tattoo for you bc he refuses to be out done and he's just as attached

Neither of them get your call sign or your name, but they get something personal to what each of them associate you with.

The first time you meet Alex, you're across the room doing something that has your focus and didn't realize this is actually your first time meeting him. You ask him for a hand only to look up and see him extend his prosthetic at you with a smile and you scream.

"You asked for a hand but best I can do is a Leg." Price comes running and he sees the scene and rolls his eyes.

Everyone single one of them are the definition of "my girl can wear whatever she wants bc I'll break your jaw." meme btw. You can take care of yourself but you never need to bc they will beat a bitch up.

Laswell invites you constantly to come over and meet with her wife, esp if you don't have a mother figure. She always always tries to come on base to see you and always has a birthday and Christmas present on it's way to you wherever you may be. Her wife loves you to death and they've pretty much adopted you and you cannot escape it, oh well.

Gaz buys you whatever your little heart desires, especially if he's deployed away in a country where they sell exclusives of whatever you enjoy. It's a pain in the fucking ass to try and ship a anime figure to your place from Japan but he's gonna try his best.

Ghost doesn't share his food, or at least it was before you came along. He groans and grumbles about having to feed you but he wouldn't do it if he truly didn't want to. Soap asks and Ghost tells him to fuck off.

If you watch anime, please imagine trying to get everyone in the room and trying to explain who Dabi is. They're all so fucking old they keep thinking you're referring to the elf from Harry Potter and it infuriates you to no end.

Soap and Gaz know better but it's funnier to see you mad.

Being the youngest, they absolutely force you to do the jobs they don't want to. Whether it be cleaning the barracks, to cooking dinner when able, it doesn't matter bc they'll all pull rank on you.

"You're the new kid, get to it then."

"Ghosttttt-"

"Don't Ghost me."

Soap is the kind of motherfucker to play the fifa games and doesn't understand that he's stupid for buying it every single year bc there are no changes oncesoever. He will not listen to you about it and you've given up.

Ghost will see you talk about your etsy list and will ask for your phone, you trust him so of course you hand it over. He hands it back to you and it's just, all purchased. He says nothing while he sips on his tea while you scream at him asking why he did it. He won't tell you but it's because he knows it makes you happy and it'll keep your mood up, giving you a reason to be motivated to get through missions. It's also because he knows that retail therapy is a thing for your generation.

Soap, if you do any, is actually really good at doing your makeup! He knows how to do everything and he refuses to elaborate. (As a kid he'd do his mom's makeup when she went out for dates) he's the one who helps you doll up if you're going undercover.

Ghost, Gaz and Price find you unfunny whenever you make a "wow I wish British people were real." You say it so often and it gets annoying but they also just accept it's a part of life.

Soap personally enjoys the "SCOTLAND FOREVERRRRRRR" meme and will scream it with you. Ghost threatens to cut yalls tongue out.

Other parts can be found under #Kayla writes <3

Taglist:

@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess

@stupid-ninja @milkmily

@lune-la-chanson @tamayakii

@teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel

@perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains

@marsbar127xx @baddump

@xncasi @king-cookiex

@palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky @wolfyland07 @diejager

@hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom

If you'd like to be tagged, go to my pinned post and comment there :)

[cry4mina]

Death of Peace of Mind - Part 2 - Sugar

(Dom!Momo x fem!reader)

Death of Peace Of Mind - Part 1

Word Count: 3.6k

Filth, this is PURE filth/a fluffy moment or two

Summary: Momo wants seconds and you’re completely at her mercy.

TW: THIS IS AGGRESSIVE SEX. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE BOTHERED BY THE FOLLOWING: Degradation, Bondage, slapping, biting, overstimulation, mommy kink (please let me know if I missed anything!)

A/N: YAY OMG 200 FOLLOWERS WOW

Thank you so much to everyone who’s supported my works, everyone who has reached out and all the moots! <333 I did not think I’d be getting this much attention, so please know that I’m so grateful for every single one of you!

@nr1chaedickrider scheming with me for this one too so make sure u show chaepookums some love! Thanks again for bouncing ideas back and forth with me!

And of course all the moots who yelled at me to finish this lmaoooo

Fully prepared for the anons to go feral again.

Enjoy! :)

——

Shuffling and the sound of the shower turning on wake you from the deep sleep, the ache between your legs still very present, radiating not only desire but pure soreness from how rough Momo was with you.

A small whine and sleepy pout leaves your lips when you feel the bed dip back down next to you, hands gripping your face and a few light kisses scattering your cheeks as you furrow your brows.

“I’d rather your mouth somewhere else,” groggily leaves your lips as you fall in and out of sleep again.

“You’re lucky you got what you did last night.” scoff echoing in your ears, still holding your face and halfway pinching your cheeks to get you to pay attention.

“Was I?” Muffled through the haze, eyes still chasing the dreamscape as you lean into her hands. Lightly placing your head on the pillow, you can imagine the sneer she’s got painted across her face.

Momo gets up, “You are so ungrateful…” tone pointed as she heads to the bathroom, shower already anticipating her.

The static of the water and calmness of the room allowed you to slip back into your dreams of Momo throwing you around the way she did the night before.

—

Flashes of the night before present, rolling around with Momo in your shared sheets. Her sitting so close to your face- cunt dripping. pulling you up by your restraints and pounding the life out of you, sends aches through your body.

Aware of being in a dream space and happily reliving the memories when you felt something warm between your legs, taunting you. Heated breathes on your thighs, a familiar wetness between your folds, and the sensation of nails trailing around your hips.

Groggily whimpering and opening your eyes, your vision blurred by the half-sleep you were just getting. Attempting to stretch in your dazed state when you’re immediately halted by the cold unfamiliar feeling of metal around your ankles.

“Momo?” Breathlessly uttered, peering down to find her between your legs, ankles cuffed to the frame, chains taut to keep you from moving too much. Your muscle memory activates, reaching for her hair, only to find them connected to the bed frame in the same way your ankles were, metal pressed against the fragile skin of your wrists.

A gasp leaves your lips, eyes finally focus to reveal Momo between your legs tracing patterns on your clit with her tongue, just enough pressure to tease, looking at you with amused eyes when you finally realize what’s happening.

The punishment wasn’t last night…it was right now.

Mouth switching to a single pointer finger, imitating the pressure of what was once in its place. Half-lidded eyes make contact with yours, mirroring the lust you seeped from your pores, glistening in soreness and aching for more.

“I don’t think you made enough of a mess for me last night, baby. Let me show you why you won’t do that again'' calm in tone and aggressive with movements as she leans down and sucks on your pussy harshly. Still swollen from last night, attempting to writhe underneath her at how overstimulated you felt.

“Baby, please! Fuck fuck fuck!” bolts of lightning travel through your core, immediately setting a fire into the room as you attempt to pull away from the intense wave of pleasure hitting you all at once barely any build up.

Holding you down by your hips firmly as she works her tongue into you, moaning directly into your pussy as she sucks and laps at you, only to pull away quickly once you’ve finished, standing up and walking over to the side of the bed.

“You know the word, right?” breaking character for a moment to check in with you to make sure you knew you could stop this at any time.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your body, gasping as you weakly nod your head towards her, still trying to blink the rest out of your eyes and recover from the wave of overstimulation placed within you.

This was the permission she knew she had, before asking. An evil grin forms on her face as she starts chuckling at you, slowly dragging her finger down your body as she makes her way back down to her place between your legs.

Twitching under her touch as she lightly scratches down your body, unable to keep still when she reaches your core. Too sensitive to even pretend you have any sense of brattiness in you.

“Pathetic…have nothing to say back now?” cocking her head to the side and giving you a glare that made you tense up. She swings her hand down, a solid slap on your clit makes you jolt.

“Awh, does my little whore need something?” a smack to your pussy causes you to yelp and squirm underneath her powerful gaze still chuckling at how desperate you are.

Holy shit. She really wasn’t going to cut you any slack, was she?

Crawling up your body slowly, harshly biting her way up your chest to your neck just to whisper in your ear, “I’m going to make sure you know your place, princess.”

Roughly biting the side of your neck, brutally pinches your nipples, tugging them in a way that would still cause pain even if they weren’t already sore from the previous night.

Wailing at her every touch, she continues to laugh at the anguish you were experiencing, knowing full well that you started this. You were the reason it was even happening.

Moving to straddle your thighs, reaching her hand down and running her middle finger up your slit again to see how much you were enjoying what she was putting you through.

“Oh? Do you enjoy the consequences of your actions? How cute.” pressing her slick covered finger against her thumb, only to pull them apart to see the string that connects her digits together.

Pulling at your restraints again as she licks her fingers clean, making eye contact with you as she does so just to get a reaction, which was you clenching around nothing. Oh, she wants you dead.

“You won’t be getting out of those cuffs, princess. Don’t you understand what you’ve done?” a condescending tone glitters her words as she slides the familiar strap, the one you regularly used, on and tightens it to her waist. You notice there was nothing attached to the other side of it.

This was purely to punish you, she might get some pleasure from her clit rubbing against the leather of the harness but this was solely about you. Your wants. Your needs. What you had instigated last night…you were going to get full force today.

She shimmies her hand underneath you, placing a pillow folded in half under your ass to angle your hips up to the perfect spot for hers to connect.

“You’re going to take what I give you, my desperate little bitch,” spitting into her hand and stroking the strap, smearing her saliva all over it. Oh god, she really wanted you dead.

Legs too far apart to push your thighs together for friction especially with the elevation, trying to squeeze them together despite Momo being between them. You’re at her mercy and hoping that she’ll be nice enough to let you walk out of this bedroom with the ability to speak in coherent sentences. A lovely passing thought.

Scooting closer to you, her knees on either side of your hips, arms hooked underneath your legs as she glides the tip of the strap over your sensitive folds, stinging in sweet bliss as it passes up and down.

“Mmmph…fuck, Momo…please” a hand swings across your chest, smacking your already sore breast hard enough to have you squealing underneath her touch.

“Do you want to try that again?” Another smack to the other tit, another gasp, goosebumps so spread over every part of your skin, nipples hard at the sharp pain that laid into you.

“Mommy…I’m sorry, please…I need you” begging for some kind of release and forgiveness. She has you right where she wants you. Helpless, dripping, and begging.

Momo lets out a laugh and sighs, shaking her head and tsking at you disapproval evident. Her hands reach for your chest, flinching under her while trying to rock your hips in rhythm with the strap grinding into you just enough to cause a persistent ache, slowly building you up again.

“Look at you, my pathetic little slut. Pitiful. So reactive to my touch.” thrusting the toy against you again, tears almost spilling as the knot starts to tighten, needing something more to satiate.

“Fuck” moaned out, trying to arch your back to scoot closer to the pleasure, the only thing that fills your mind, completely taken over by lust as you try to shift your weight into to her. Whine after whine vocalized through a primal urge, pulling at your restraints to try to bring yourself closer to her. Maybe she’ll take the hint.

“Do you want to test me now, my love?” pouted back at you, slapping the strap softly against your swollen pussy. Taunting you, testing you to see how reactive you could get. It was working.

You lurch forward, only to be stopped by the restraints, about 5 inches from Momo’s face, continuing to maneuver the strap over your slit. Your arms are behind you at an angle, shaking as you try to hold yourself up long enough to challenge her dominance.

The intensity of pure lust in her eyes was palpable, intensely thick as she took in your state. Sweaty, whining, heavily breathing, and eager movements gave you away; not that you had the willpower to hide them considering the position you were in.

Suddenly Momo gets up, practically sprinting to the nightstand drawer, pulling it open and grabbing keys before hastily returning to the foot of the bed, and undoing the cuffs around your ankles. Who’s needy now?

Just as you’re about to move, she grabs you and folds you where she wants you. Legs tucked up over her shoulders, strap against your heat, and Momo nipping at your chest. You’re about to explode as she grinds up against your pussy again, torturing you just a little more before she fully commits and bottoms out in you instantly.

Stars cloud your vision and she starts a slow pace, almost slamming into you as you feel the sensitivity from the night prior deep within you. Finally getting the feeling you wanted, losing yourself in the haze of pleasure with Momo on top of you, grunting as she starts to pick up her pace, ever so slightly.

“You don’t cum until I say so, if i even let you, got it?” nodding your head knowing that you won’t be able to hold off much longer if she keeps up what she’s been doing. You practically begged her to behave this way weeks ago and you were finally getting what you wanted.

“Dirty fucking slut. -grunt- Do you really think someone else can fuck you like this?” One of her hands comes up to find its place around your throat as she mercilessly slams into you, adding to the euphoria that was already taking over every sense you had.

“Mommy I’m gonna cu-” her digits find their way to your face, squishing your cheeks forcing you to look her in the eyes, glaring at you as she continues to penetrate you roughly.

“You better fucking not! Desperate fucking whore wanted me to fuck her…-grunt- You needed this didn’t you? Needed me to fuck some sense into you?” Sternly escapes her lips between heavy panting, questioning the motives that lead you to where you are now.

“Is this what you wanted? To be turned into my fuck toy? Want me to cum deep in you? Hmmm? -grunts- Answer me, slut.”

You’ve been sucked into the void of pleasure, trying to form words but it all turns into loud groans as you violently quiver, unsure of how long you can hold the orgasm back. She slides her hand down to your neck from your face, squeezing lightly to hold you into place. Other hand aiding her from your thigh.

Stroking into you, holding you by the throat, she cocks her hand back and slaps your face lightly. Another stroke, another slap, another rhythm to add to the stimulation. Momo keeps this pattern, littering you with light smacks until you being to absolutely crumble beneath her.

“Gonna cum, fuck fuck right there, Mommy…please cum in me” releasing around her on the next slap. Completely fucked out and gushing, she doesn’t stop, even if your grip around her strap is making it hard for her to slam into you savagely.

Soreness builds up even more through her consistency, not giving you a break in the slightest. You were just a sleeve for her, happily accepting the punishment and overstimulation she offered you.

“…fuck, baby wait let me tou-” a particularly hard thrust causes you to completely lose your train of thought, back arched, tears falling and a total mess in mere seconds…all from her. Hirai Momo.

Leaning back, one hand on your thigh, she finally lets you uncurl your legs only to rub harsh circles around your clit, slapping it lightly between her vicious thrusts. Bed frame slamming against the wall at the pure fury in her movements.

“That’s right, cum for me again and again. You only stop when I tell you too, whore.” The sounds emitting from your mouth and cunt are lewd enough to make a pornstar shy. Wailing loudly, vision blurred, and completely overstimulated, your body twitches incessantly. Back involuntarily arching as you lose control from her feral fucking. It sends you into a spiral of divine delight.

“Gonna cum in you so you know your fucking place” picking up her speed again, her clit rubbing on the leather while thrusting her hips into you rabidly.

“Don’t you want that, princess? Don’t you want to leak my cum all fucking day? -fuck fuck fuck-” chasing her own pleasure, feeling her dripping onto you, scooching into you, hips sputtering unevenly before she lets out a string of guttural moans. Breath heavy with a light sheen of sweat layering her skin, muscles clenched as she gets closer to releasing at the thought of cumming deep inside you.

“So deep, Mommy. - so fucking deep - Cum in what’s yours.” through soft pants and almost uncomfortable soreness that hurt so good, you wouldn’t be upset if you felt it tomorrow.

“Fuck!” thrusting one last time before completely falling apart between your thighs. Shaking, uncontrollably bucking her hips into you, her hands are on your calves and her head tilts towards the sky while whine after whine levitates from her lungs.

Reaching back to grab the keys quickly out from the ankle cuffs, careful not to remove the strap from you just yet, she undoes your arm restraints - one by one and finding her place, laying on your chest as she attempts to catch her breath.

Your arms finally free from their cages, you slowly bring them down, wincing at the stiffness and placing them lightly around the back of Momo’s neck. You lightly kiss the top of her head, running your fingers lightly over the skin on her shoulders.

“Was that too much?” your little service top was back to being worried about you, lifting her head and resting her chin on your chest as she meets your eyes, wondering how you were feeling about what just transpired.

“It was perfect, baby. You did so well for me.” soothing her as she laid her head on your chest again, cheek flush against you and arms around you, tightly holding you.

“You know…I think I’d like to do that more. It was kind of hot.” Momo giggles softly at admitting she enjoyed being rough with you.

“I like seeing you so desperate for m-…baby, what are you doing?” ache returns deep within you as she talks about what she enjoyed from the session, hips starting to involuntarily rock as she talked about what pleased her.

Smiling at you in disbelief, she rolled you both over, staying inside you while she sits up on her knees, forcing you with her. Chests pressed together, your arms clutching her close by her neck, as you gently bounce up and down with shaky legs in Momo’s lap.

Hands slide up to your ass, grabbing and tugging at the flesh while she helps your momentum, adoring eyes looking up at you before kissing you passionately as you ride her.

Moaning into her mouth as she guides you to move faster, supporting your weight, thrusting up into you tenderly creating the perfect balance of pleasure through the sharp ache inside you.

“Mommy, -Mmm fuck-, I’m gonna cum again.” whispered into her mouth while gripping her hair tightly trying to put the orgasm off until she asks you for it.

“I love it when you call me that” passionately kissing you before finishing her thought.

“Cum for me, princess. You’ve been such a good girl for me.” that sends you into the wave of euphoria laced love, releasing completely to her again, clinging to her as your body tenses up, moans muffled by her tongue dancing with yours, you fully in her arms unable to hold yourself up.

Momo tilts sideways and lays you down gently on the bed, removing the strap from inside you causing you to gasp at the emptiness and soreness spikes, muscles contract around themselves instead of what she just ruined you with.

Momo giggles, being sure to bring the strap into the bathroom to deal with later before returning with a damp washcloth to wipe you off and a bottle of water, finding you already fast asleep curled up in her spot on the bed.

Smiling victoriously, she cleans you up without taking you out of your resting state, placing the water bottle on the nightstand next to you for when you wake up from your peaceful nap.

Taking her phone off the charger and grabbing her red silk robe, she slipped into it and quietly made her way to the kitchen. It’s still relatively early in the day, breakfast being on her mind as she starts the coffee pot, when her phone rings. She answers it on speaker when she sees the caller ID.

“Hi Sana.”

“Hey! How did it go?” Her voice rings loudly through the speaker as Momo grabs a mug and rolls her eyes, knowing that’s the only reason she would be calling this early.

“It went just fine, thanks for asking” awkwardly chuckling at how nosy her best friend was.

“Sooooo you did what we talked about?” inquiring further for details of the sexcapade. Momo turns beat red and puts her hands over her face to cover her embarrassment.

“Sana! I’m not going to tell you what happened! If she finds out you and I were scheming…I truly don’t even know what she’d do! She can’t know that you told me about what she said to you! ” exclaimed through awkward laughs.

“Scheming, hmm?” coming from behind Momo, causing her to freeze in her tracks, face turning bright red, holding her breath as Sana cackles on the other end of the phone.

“…so I have Sana to thank for the confidence boost you needed?” sarcastically said while walking over to her and leaning against her, still having a little trouble standing on your own. You kiss Momo’s cheek before starting to make two cups of coffee while she stands there in shock.

Sana is having a laughing fit on the other side of the phone, not being able to contain herself - entertained by the idea of how embarrassed Momo was and the reveal of you and Sana cooking up a plan to get you exactly what you wanted.

“Thank you, Sana!” yelled out into the kitchen so she could hear it over her own laugh, bringing you to chuckle along with her at how well everything actually worked.

“You’re welcome, Y/n! I want the details later!” Swiftly hanging up to leave you both alone with each other.

“If I knew all you needed was a confidence boost, I would’ve told her what I wanted ages ago instead of trying to convince you to be rough with me, baby.” pinching her ass, winking and then going back to your shared bedroom.

“Wait…wait what?! You told Sana…and then she tol- oh, you bitch! You’re playing a twisted little game!” playfully chasing after you, just to kiss you deeply before returning to cook you your favorite breakfast.

Thanks again for reading! 🖤

[callsign-rogueone]

you called - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader You're captured by gryphon fliers while out alone on patrol, but Brennan comes to your rescue. [request] words: 1.7k 🏷: no book spoilers, as this occurs years before Fourth Wing, soon after Bren graduated from Basgiath. gender neutral reader in an established romantic relationship with Brennan. brief / vague descriptions of interrogation, torture, and inhumane treatment of reader by fliers, but Bren mends you and takes care of you (lots of cuddles). your dragon is mated to Marbh. her name is Fuir, a shortened form of the word for "alive" since Marbh means "dead". you sleep in Bren's shirt but there's no description of how it fits on you. wrote this in an hour and didn't edit so be nice pls

It’s easy enough to find the cell block. You’re the only prisoner there, with just one guard posted outside that Brennan makes quick work of, taking the keys from his belt to unlock the door.

He kneels down by your side, comforted by the rise and fall of your chest -- he’d known that you were still alive, because he is, as are Fuir and Marbh, but the visual confirmation is soothing.

He wraps a hand around your wrist to block the pain, using the other to start mending your wounds. Whoever had been interrogating you must have had a very short temper; your temples are bloodied, a few of your ribs bruised or broken, several small cuts dotting the exposed skin of your arms -- they’d taken your flight jacket, as a trophy.

He burns with anger, but forces himself to focus on the good, the fact that you’re still alive in front of him, that he’d found you before it was too late.

You finally open those pretty eyes, struggling to focus your gaze on him, but you put it together quickly enough. “Bren,” you murmur, delirious, “you came.”

“You called,” he answers simply, still working on mending your wounds.

It takes you a moment to work through the thick fog of what is definitely a concussion, but you realize he must have heard your desperate cries for help down the bond and came to find you; your plan worked.

You’d wanted to give up hope after the first day, but accepting your death meant accepting Brennan’s as well, and you couldn’t let him die like that, so you persevered. You’d forced yourself to eat what meager portions of food they’d given you, to drink the foul-tasting water and sleep as much as you could, to keep yourself alive.

Whenever they left you alone, you’d tried to reach for Fuir, for Brennan and Marbh, for your magic, getting no responses. After two days, you realized that they must have put a power-dampener in that water, like the one the professors had dosed you with before RSC to disconnect you from your dragons. So you’d stopped drinking it, pouring it out instead to make it look like you had -- and that night, you’d finally felt that little red string connecting you to Fuir, and the shimmering orange one that leads you to Brennan and Marbh. 

You’d cried in relief, trying to reach out to them, but your words had quickly turned to screams of pain as the officer returned to try to get information out of you again. They must have figured out your scheme, because the beating was the worst that day -- they’d hardly ever left you alone, giving you less than an hour between rounds of questioning.

You close your eyes again, realizing that this is probably a dream, a hallucination brought on by days of isolation in this dark room with only enough food and water to keep you alive. You aren’t really aware of how long it’s been. There’s no sunlight down here, and they haven’t been feeding you on a regular schedule, so you couldn’t keep track by counting the meals, either.

“I thought Navarre didn’t bother with extractions,” you mumble. 

“They don’t. So I might be court-martialed when we get back, but I don’t care. I couldn’t leave you here.”

“M’sorry,” you murmur. “Shouldn’t have gone off on my own. Thank you for finding me.”

“Don’t apologize, love. And I’ll always find you,” he promises, stroking your hair. “We’re tied together, aren’t we?”

You manage a soft laugh that quickly turns into a cough, your throat dry and raw from the screaming and from days without much water.

He decides he’s mended you enough for now -- you should be able to move now without injuring yourself further, and you really need to get out of here. “Up you get,” he coaxes, hooking an arm around your waist and helping you up from the floor.

Someone is waiting for you in the hallway -- someone dressed in black. A rider.  “Nao?” you ask, blinking at him. You really must be hallucinating.

The older rider smiles at you. “Hi, kid. Good to see you in one piece.” He turns to Brennan. “There’s two guards at each exit. We can take them, but they’ll probably sound an alarm.”

The two men continue to strategize, and you try to follow along, but most of the words go in one ear and out the other. You settle for leaning against Brennan and trying to stay awake.

“Hello, sweet one,” Fuir says gently, and you nearly cry at the familiar voice back in your head after days of isolation.

“Hi,” you respond in a whisper.

Brennan and Naolin have agreed on a plan, and you follow them closely, staying by Brennan’s side as they lead you out of the compound. Naolin makes quick work of both of the guards, knocking them out easily, and you slip past the treeline into the forest.

It’s freezing outside, literally -- your boots make tracks through the half-inch of snow on the ground that continues to fall gently, tiny flakes drifting through the air and coating everything in a thin layer of white.

You rub your hands over your arms, trying to keep warm. Brennan drapes his cloak over your shoulders, and you burrow into it, happy to be wrapped in the warmth and softness of the fur-collared fabric and the comforting smell of your partner. 

You finally spot Fuir -- she looks a little worse for wear, too, cuddled up with Marbh, who is licking her wounds like an oversized cat. Cute.

“Can you still make it home?” you ask, concerned.

She sounds slightly offended. “Of course I can. It’s you I’m worried about.”

She lays down, making it easier for you to climb up her leg. As you settle into your seat, you can feel invisible bands of magic keeping you in place -- you breathe a sigh of relief that you won’t have to worry about keeping your seat as you pass over the mountain range. You have no idea how long of a flight it’s going to be, but you don’t think you could handle more than a few minutes in the saddle.

“Now would be an excellent time to leave!” Naolin shouts from his perch on the back of Tairn’s neck.

You turn your head, seeing three gryphons closing in from your right. Shit.

“We’ll be fine,” she soothes. “If we get high enough, they won’t be able to follow us.”

You shut your eyes tightly as the cold wind hits your cheeks, making your eyes water -- they’d taken your goggles too, and all your knives, everything except your base layer of clothing. She raises her head, blocking the worst of it, tightening up her formation with Tairn and Marbh, letting each of them protect you from one side.

“I think we lost them,” Brennan tells you through the bond, and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

Fuir adjusts the invisible ties keeping you seated, guiding you forward to lean against the back of her neck. “Rest. It’s another hour to get home.”

You hum in reply, pulling Brennan’s cloak tighter around your shoulders and relaxing into her. She feels warmer than usual, likely because you’re freezing cold.

You wake to the feeling of the wind dying down, and her wings stilling as she lands.

She settles down into the snowy grass, letting you climb down slowly. 

Brennan is waiting on the ground to help you, gathering you into his arms. “Let’s get you to the infirmary,” he coaxes.

You shake your head no. “Want you to do it,” you say quietly. 

He caves easily, leading you to his room, keeping you tucked into his side with a strong arm around your waist. Nobody questions it or stops you on the way up, your bloodied appearance perfectly normal for a rider.

He settles you into his desk chair, starting to mend the smaller cuts and bruises that he hadn’t gotten to earlier. The warmth of his hands and the feeling of the aching pain subsiding relaxes you, your eyes falling shut.

“You think you can shower?” he asks gently.

You nod. You don’t want to get up, but you do feel absolutely disgusting after the last four days, and a shower is definitely in order. Two showers, probably. 

You follow him into the en-suite bathroom, going through the motions without thought -- washing the blood from your skin, scrubbing off the dirt and making an attempt at washing your hair. Brennan stands by your side, showering himself in near-silence, washing off the day. 

He wraps you in a warm towel, letting you rest against him for a moment. “You should eat something,” he says gently.

You burrow deeper into him in protest. “Later,” you murmur. You just want to sleep. It’s late, nearing lights-out anyway, and you need to rest up for the inevitable scolding you’re going to get tomorrow morning.

“Do you want one of your shirts, or mine?” he asks.

“Yours, please,” you answer quietly; his clothes are always more comfortable, more comforting to you, and you could use that extra layer of his presence right now. You finish drying yourself off, letting him slip one of his black tunics over your head and wiggling your arms into the sleeves.

He pulls the covers back, motioning for you to climb into bed with him. The softness of the mattress underneath you and the feel of warm, clean blankets against your skin after three days of sleeping on a dirty stone floor is overwhelming. You finally start to cry, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“You’re safe, my love,” he soothes, holding you close. “You’re home, with me.”

“I know,” you whisper, trying to steady your breathing. “I know, I just…”

He shushes you softly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just know that I love you, and that I will never let anything like that happen to you again.”

You nod against his shoulder. “Love you too,” you sniff. “Thank you for finding me.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “I will always find you.”

You relax into him, comforted by the warmth of his body against yours, the muscled arms wrapped around you and the smell of his cologne that lingers on the sheets. This is the safest place in the world, right here -- not Navarre, not the fortress, but this room, this bed, because Brennan is in it, holding you.

“Get some sleep,” he encourages. “I’ll be right here with you.”

You hum in reply, nuzzling your cheek into his chest and letting the steady beat of his heart lull you to sleep.